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doctorbrown · 11 months

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DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 31 / 31 * FINALE | HEART 」

March 8, 1929

Whenever Erhardt was at the courthouse, if Emmett wasn't in his room, pouring over works that would make his father red-faced and angry, he could be found with a pillow propped up against the grandfather clock in the living room, leaning back and reading whatever caught his eye this time.

It had become a pattern over the years, one Sarah had learned quite quickly after the first two times wondering where her son had run off to when he wasn't anywhere to be found in his room. Emmett was at his most comfortable when his father wasn't at home—and she couldn't blame him for that, despite how she'd tried to soften the tension between her husband and her child—and he didn't hesitate to take full advantage of the house when it was open to him.

Sarah quirks a brow upon seeing the book clutched in Emmett's hands. ❝Are you reading one of my science-fiction novels again?❞

❝Father isn't home to yell at me for wasting my time reading this worthless trash.❞ He puts on his best impression of his father as he can, mimicking the gruffness of his voice and the accent he'd yet to lose even after nearly twenty years here. ❝He wouldn't even listen to me when I told them they were educational, because they were about science.❞

Sometimes, his parents seem like fire and ice compared to each other, opposites in every way eternally fated to clash, especially where their interests are concerned; there are days he simply can't understand how they get along.

❝I found this hidden in your library.❞ He holds up the copy of A Voyage to Arcturus he'd swiped, knowing he won't be reproached for his choice in reading material. Finally, he looks away from the book, and Emmett purses his lips, studying his mother's done-up hair and full state of dress, coming to the conclusion she must be going out again for some of the day's chores.

He wonders if this time, he'll be forced to go along.

❝You know your father usually gets home around five,❞ she says, prompting Emmett to lift his head as high as he can to see the hands of the grandfather clock above him, ❝so be cautious how long you spend out here, dear.❞ The time currently reads 11:00 exactly and he frowns.

❝Is Father ever going to get our grandfather clock repaired? It has been broken for weeks and I really liked the hourly chimes.❞

❝He said he sent out for a repairman, but that was two weeks ago and I've heard nothing since. At this rate, I don't know when it'll be repaired. I'll bring it up to him tonight at dinner. Speaking of—Emmett, I'm going out to pick up some groceries. I trust you'll behave for a few hours while I'm out?❞

Emmett nods and with a quick goodbye, Sarah closes the door behind her, leaving him alone.

The book in his hands no longer holds his interest. Now that they've brought it up, all he can think about is the broken clock, whose mechanical songs have been sorely missed over the past few weeks. The clock had always been a constant, a comfort, a staple in the house as far back as he can remember, and he'd found himself on more than one occasion peering into the glass, watching the pendulum swing and the weights dance with their precise, rhythmic grace.

It was as close to watching time live and breathe as he could get and it had captivated him, as did the smaller clocks set up in the house.

Just a few months ago, he'd disassembled the small bedside clock in his room to see how it worked and had managed to put it back together without either of his parents figuring out.

If he could do that, surely he could fix this one, his favourite clock in the entire house.

His father clearly didn't see the importance of having it operational again—that, or he simply didn't care—and he could already imagine how the conversation at dinner would go. Poorly. And the clock would remain broken for another several weeks.

If he didn't, nobody else would.

Emmett checks to make sure his mother really has left before he hurries to the storage room to dig out the toolbox he'd seen his father use several times.

It's heavier than he remembers, but his mind is made up and nothing is going to get in the way of his goal, even if he has to drag the box the rest of the way towards the house.

As he peers inside the glass, he starts to take stock of all the pieces within, studying each of them carefully as if the answer will suddenly leap out at him. There could be any number of things that silenced the clock and as far as he's concerned, the best solution is to start carefully removing pieces until he can pinpoint the culprit.

For a moment, the task feels gargantuan, what with all the sprawling, delicate clockwork, but he's got his wits, his determination, and his trusty toolbox, so as he stands on his toes, reminding himself to be slow and cautious, it starts to feel more doable.

I should start from the top down.

The side door only takes a little wiggling to get loose and Emmett marvels at the first real look he's ever gotten at the movement, glittering gold in its wooden case. His eyes widen at the mechanical marvel twisting before him and he finds it even more appealing than the ornate carvings inlaid into the dark cabinet.

The front door swings open easily and Emmett's touch is almost featherlight as he pulls the hands off the movement. The clock face looks unsettling without the hands there, almost like it's naked, and he frowns as he sticks the hands in his pockets for safekeeping.

Everything has to come out in order for him to properly inspect it, but the question now becomes how. How does he remove the movement without further damaging what he's trying to repair?

Emmett sticks his head through the open side panel again and lets out an excited aha! when he spots the latches holding the face of the clock in place. A firm push knocks it free and sends the face clattering to the ground. He winces at the sound, but a quick inspection reveals no new damage—nothing has snapped off or bent or broken, so he must still be okay.

The relief he feels at that is short-lived when he realises he has no idea what to do next.

He presses his lips together in thought and reaches back through time to try and feel around the different pieces of the machine. This is all just another puzzle, one created by someone who may understand time better than him, but he has science on his side, and if he follows the cables and pulleys back to their origin point, where they connect must be the problem.

A broken gear, perhaps, or a bent hammer, or something has gotten knocked out of place.

When he tries to pull at the movement again, it remains stubbornly locked in place, and so he drops his focus down to the weights dangling lifelessly at the end of their golden ropes.

Those, too, clatter to the ground in perfect synchronisation with the loud yelp of surprise he lets out.

The rest of the pieces follow unceremoniously after, one-by-one until he's left cradling the silent heart of the clock in his hands.

Emmett turns it over in his hands, scrutinising it from corner-to-corner to try and spot anything that screams this, this is the problem!

❝Emmett Lathrop Brown!❞ That cold, booming voice strikes fear straight into his chest and Emmett immediately freezes, clutching the clock's heart to his chest like a shield. He's sitting in the centre of the half-circle of dismembered clock parts and no amount of trying to talk his way out of this one is going to make him look any less guilty than he is.

His father's anger could level the house. He can feel it, a thousand white-hot blades digging into his skin, even from across the room.

He tries to look up at the clock above him, but instead of helping him, it screams accusations.

❝Y-Yes, Father?❞

#doctober 2023 #a broken clock may be right twice a day but in this case it was very wrong rip emmett #and with that...doctober is over!! it's bittersweet but i'm also thankful and i feel like i've grown more confident as a writer for this #fandom even if just by a little. to all who've read and liked and commented and reblogged any of these prompts i thank you wholeheartedly #you've definitely kept me going with your enthusiasm and i appreciate you greatly for it #i feel like emmett's love for reading definitely came from his mum and sarah is one of those types of people who will read a wide array #of different types of genres #and she likes to collect books too which young emmett helped himself to whenever erhardt wasn't around #it was basically their little secret #also the fact that even in the delorean owner's manual doc talks about the fact that his mum and dad did not part on good terms #just lends weight to this theory of mine; it was probably the culmination of a lot of bs and them not being fully compatible and the fact #that well he just treated their kid like shit and she was not about that #and in the comics erhardt was basically like 'you're just as stubborn as your son' just lends me to believe that he was not the #type of person who did well with others who didn't fully bend to his will #&; a great idea can change the world 「 hc 」#also given the origin of the grandfather clock and the neat science behind it #it seems so fitting that it be used as a main catalyst in doc's life - and that he'd love it #he just wanted to fix the clock okay and as you do when you're young you think you can do everything #doc being also wicked smart and too curious for his own good def didn't help but #doc's obsession with time and clocks is everything to me tbh #every clock is a little different and they all tell different stories and time is such a fascinating concept #man-made perhaps but still

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silverselfshippingchaos · 6 months

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could cozy up to me- ahem

#ash rambles 💚#i love him soooo much! i know i get stubborn about it sometimes but he really does have my heart #him and ash get together post-game so i love writing him and his development and him learning to be a better person #theyre not together during the game. theyre enemies during the game. theyre also both kinda immature late teenagers/young adults #(i just wanna make it clear that there's nothing weird there going on!! he and ash have had mutual attraction to each other since they were #kids but they dont get together until theyre adults and he is an adult in canon!!!)#but back to what i was saying #his development with ash is sooo goooddd! they spend a little while doing mercenary work together! ash has quite long hair and man ajsjajsh #the way he learns how to take care of her hair always makes me soo warm and fuzzy inside! he may be a bit of a meanie but he is a #surprisingly affectionate bf! f.f8 s/i probably also straightens her curly hair like i do and he just likes helping and stroking her hair #there's a lot of playful bickering though! lots of matches of triple triad too! whoever loses does the dishes LMAAOO #man.. he's so handsome and strong... i love how he's always so dedicated to being a knight and a protector... i know he uses that as an #excuse to like. do horrific things in the game but!!! in the mobile game you can see him develop and i really do like his redemption arc #from mean ass bully to kinda mean ally that'll protect you no matter what. his character is so good especially when you consider that he's #literally been forced into training since he was five. lots of things to analyze and think about there #but back to the knight thing!! he always says he's ash's knight! makes my heart flutter hehe! though he is very well-aware that ash could #kick his ass... and he loves it! he's not big on using her beloved guns (shes very picky about who touches her sweethearts too) but he does #like watching her epic gunslinger gf in action hehehe! okay yeah i think thats enough rambling for now #i got sick 😔 i'm okay and it'll pass but expect a lot of half-asleep f/o rambles LMAAOOO #okay yeah. tldr: i <3 s.eifer a.lmasy #your knight until the end 🤍

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a-lonely-dunedain · 1 year

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12 for Margim & Celeair

12. "help me"

Margim's old habits die hard as it turns out (I think I could've done better with this one, but my brain is deep fried and crispy so Words and Descriptions Do Not Go. I plan to shove all these little prompt fics into an Ao3 fic once I'm done with all of them, so I'll probably clean this one up/flesh it out a bit then.)

There were no casualties for us in the last skirmish with the Dragon-Clan raiders, but still some injuries, and that’s where my work began.

I’ve spent the last few hours in the infirmary with the other two healers patching everyone up. Exhausting but rewarding work, and far less grim for once. There was healing to be done, but no mourning. By the time we were done, no one was in poor enough shape that they would need to stay the night here, so one by one all of our charges were eventually sent home to rest, as were the other two healers. Except for me of course, I offered to stay behind and clean up so they could go to their families. Gathering up bloody rags and discarded vials, making careful notes of what salves and politics had been used so that we could resupply before we ran out, and anything else that needed to be set right.

Margim often stops by to help me with this, but I have not seen her yet. I imagine she’s celebrating the victory with Elain and her other friends, or has already gone home to rest and is waiting for me there. She looked tired when she returned with the other warriors.

Just then, I hear the door slowly open and soft footsteps approach. It sounds like someone is trying to be quiet, not necessarily trying to hide their presence, but trying not to draw attention to it at least. I look up from what I was doing and see that it’s just Margim. I smile at her "oh, hello Mar!"

“Can you… help me with this?” she asks quietly, although I'm not sure what 'this' is exactly.

“Hm? With wh…” I start to ask, but as she approaches I see the answer and my words seem useless. She moves her cloak aside to reveal a large black stain on her garment, her blood, slowly oozing from a wound on her side.

“You’re hurt!” I exclaim, gently taking her arm and guiding her over to a nearby cot.

“I noticed.” She responds dryly as she sits down, removing her cloak.

“How… How did this happen?” I ask, examining the wound. There is some panic in my voice, although I try to hide it.

“One of the cursed Draig managed to land a blow.” she says bitterly “Only after I caved his skull in, but his dagger found its mark anyway.” This is from the skirmish then, but… that was many hours ago.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” I ask in equal parts confusion and worry.

“There were-” she winces as I remove her garment from the cut, I whisper an apology. I’m being as gentle as I can, but the blood has clotted to her clothes and there’s not a way I can do this that won’t sting at least a little. “-There were others more hurt. I would rather not take your attention away from them.”

“There was plenty to go around,” I take a nearby bowl of clean water and carefully start to clean the cut with a cloth, “and I would rather have tended to this sooner… What if it was-”

“If it was more serious I would have had no choice but to come earlier. But the cut was not deep, it could wait.” her tone is strangely defensive.

My brow furrows. Maybe the cut was not deep, but it was still in a place where any injury would be cause for great concern. She’s still bleeding, and ideally, she would not be.

“-really, it hardly even hurt!” she insists

My frown only deepens, it clearly hurts a great deal. Margim sees that I’m not buying the act and lets out a defeated sigh. “...I’m not a very good liar, am I?”

“Not to me, no.”

I’m nearly done dressing the cut. Luckily she was right that it was not deep, there’s little else I need to do to it, but I am still troubled by the fact that she waited hours before letting anyone see to it. It was not severe this time, but the concerning thought of her trying to hide a more serious injury –and the damage that could be done by that– is still in the forefront of my mind.

“So… why did you hide it then?” I ask quietly.

Margim’s averts her gaze “I… did not wish for the others to see.”

There would have been no shame in it, letting the others know she was hurt, for the other warriors were even bragging about their own wounds when I saw to them. The Caru-Lûth consider scars earned in defense of their land to be a badge of honor, as proof of what they endured for the sake of love and loyalty. The numerous battle-scars Margim already bears were part of the reason they so eagerly accepted her among their ranks, as they seemed visible proof of her strength and devotion. I know Margim would not see the scars from her time in Mordor that way, but whether or not she agreed with their assessment did not change the fact that they respected her for them.

None of them, least of all those who had fought alongside her, would ever think of her as weak for something like this.

“I do not think they would have thought any less of you for it.” I try to assure.

“That’s not what I was afraid of… I… do not know what I was afraid of.” she mutters haltingly, barely loud enough for me to hear. She seems to be looking away at something that isn’t there. “...It's a force of habit, I suppose.”

Ah, that makes more sense then. It was not a fear of shame that caused her to hide the wound, but an instinct carried over from Mordor, where showing any physical weakness would only paint a target on her back.

“You have nothing to fear here.” I say gently as I finish with the bandages, although I do not know if my words will do much to help. It’s not an easy thing for her to unlearn, not when it was fear that kept her alive for so long.

“I know it… but sometimes I think my heart does not believe it. We are not always on the same page.” she mutters slowly

“I understand. Well, a little bit, at least. If there is anything I can do to help, please, let me know.”

“You have already helped a great deal, there is nothing more I would ask of you.” she sighs “I think I would just like to go home and sleep.” she pauses, a somewhat regretful expression on her face "and... I'm sorry to have bothered you with all this."

"It's not a bother to me at all! I'm just glad I you're alright now."

#this ends. very abruptly #as I said brain not do words today. will fix later #I realize I've been doing Celeair's PoV for all the last prompts with them #I think that's bc he's currently Unable to narrate in Bitter Ash and Stubborn Flowers so it's like exclusively Margim PoV there #still I'm gonna try to make Margim the narrator with the next one #idk why but I can only seem to write about these two in first person #3rd pov is easy for everyone else but Margim and Celeair are just more talkative I guess #really idk what's been up with my brain sense yesterday but it's been like #me: ok let's get these last three asks done!#my brain: no (:#me: why not?#my brain: I don't wanna words. if you make me describe one more thing I'm going to bite you #well ok then!#methinks I should wait a bit before trying to get the last two done #lotro #lotro oc #Margim #Celeair #ask games

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wildflowercryptid · 8 months

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the persona 3 remake dropped today... i yearn for tartarus...

#i'm not getting yet since i don't got the moneys and i'm not sure if it can run well on my computer #also i kinda want to hold out to see if atlus stops being stubborn and adds kotone's content as dlc #literally everyone and their mother is begging for kotone to be brought back fucking come ON #either way i'm happy to see these kids back p3 has a very special place in my heart #especially happy to see junpei again i love him a lot #it makes me so happy that he's voiced by zeno robinson now he's one of my fave voice actors!!#i could always replay p3p i guess... i wonder if the scaling is okay on the switch version #it was already pretty crunchy on the vita #mj.txt

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reikunrei · 1 year

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sleepy bc I accidentally stayed up late monologuing to myself about how free! really should have ended for the nth time 🥴

#imagine haru saying what he said to rin at the end of fs1 right. the ‘you always run away’ or w/e #and he’s angry but also upset w himself for saying it when he doesn’t REALLY mean it #and now he’s afraid he’s going to hurt his other friends so he secluded himself and throws himself into swimming #but his body is still shutting down! and albert is the one to say something #he says how he admired haru’s swimming. how the water favored him. but now something’s different. something’s wrong #and he says something that gets haru to listen. maybe haru’s a little stubborn and is like ‘stay out of this’ but it still gets #under his skin. so either he just goes to iwatobi or azuma tells him to #and he wanders around reliving memories. but they’re sort of staled now. he feels like he has no emotions. it’s like the start of s1 again #then he goes to their time capsule. and he digs it up. and inside are all their letters and the footage we saw of all his friends at the #beginning of fs1 on a dvd or thumb drive or smthn #he takes it home to his empty iwatobi house and plays it #at this point he is thinking about quitting. but then HE would be the one running away. and that fight with rin stings even more #and he doesn’t want to let his friends down. not when almost all of them are swimming Because of him #he’s so scared they’ll hate him or br angry. he wants to quit but he feels like he can’t bc who is he without swimming?#but then he watches the videos. and it mentions swimming sure. but he realizes all of his friends love him for HIM #and he can go back to tokyo and tell them everything he’s been thinking. about how he’s gonna quit. bc he just can’t do it #and of course they all support it. makoto does right out the gate. as does nagisa. rei cries a little bit he’d rather haru be happy #very similar to his choice in s1. he’s sad he can’t swim with haru. but he understood that the friendship comes first #and rin is maybe pissed. but you know he can’t be pissed for long. and he apologizes for putting haru on a pedestal #and then haru’s like well… I have to swim one final relay. so they sneak in and explain to the teammates at the last second and swap places #(none of that talking to the coach shit. I want them to commit crimes like they did in s1)#and they don’t care about winning they don’t care what the results are. they just want to see one final sight. share one final swim together #and it makes haru strong. but he’s accepted that competitive swimming isn’t for him. and he quits happily #maybe becomes a coach of sorts alongside makoto #anyway. stayed up late thinking abt it and now I’m in bed late writing it out #I did Not mean to do it it just Possesses me #i say things

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nitw · 2 years

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i feel confident about telling my mom pretty much anything but there’s exactly Three things i’ve never told her and never will tell her, only bc it’s been so many years now that it’s embarrassing. but i do wanna share them here bc they’re funny in hindsight

one time when i was like 7 i was SO close to drowning in a public pool on a vacation to tenerife with my dad. i’d just learned how to dive, and while my dad was elsewhere i tried diving under a large inflatable platform that was chained to the bottom but i hit my head underneath it and breathed in, and for a second i couldn’t tell which direction was up, but i managed to make it out on my own. i spent a few minutes coughing and trying to calm down before just going back to my dad and pretending nothing happened????

around 2019 my dad got really bad glaucoma which sucked bc he had shitty legs and driving was his main mode of transportation, and i was pretty reliant on him driving me to places back then? and while he waited for his laser treatment appointment he wasn’t confident about driving in the dark (HE OBVIOUSLY SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN DRIVING AT ALL. I KNOW. but my dad was the most stubborn fool i’ve ever known ok) so he literally asked me to be his extra pair of eyes on the road (I WAS 17) 😭 i’d have to help guide him with google maps and warn him before bumping into things. IT WAS CRAZY but i didn’t even mind back then???? i was just like “dad you’re an idiot” but went along with it anyway dfghjkssdfgj. and after he finally got the treatment we made a vow to never tell my mom bc we Knew she would lose it

the right side of my ribcage is bent inwards. i don’t know why. it’s never caused me any health issues as far as i can tell, and no doctor has ever commented on it, but i’ve been wondering about it my whole life. i just never brought it up with my parents bc i didn’t want them to panic unless it became a problem lmao

#i lvoe my dad n miss him every day But he's just got so many insane stories like that. godspeed old fart #yknow I THINK THERES A PATTERN HERE. my dad was always rlly stubborn and let his pride get in the way of his own safety?#and i definitely inhereted some of that as you can see with the last bit #i have a VERY BAD HABIT of keeping my worries to myself if there's the slightest chance i can bullshit my way through it on my own #and i hate having to ask for help until it becomes so bad that i literally have no excuses left #SO THATS. HM. WELL.#leo.txt

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