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veilkeeper · 1 day ago

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The Sacrifice of Souls, Part 2

alt title: why im putting corentin in the torment nexus

this is the second instalment of a 2-part essay series. the first part focused on the events of emmrich's quests, as well as my analysis and critique of his quest line overall. this part will focus specifically on the effects these choices have on the romance, as well as my thoughts on how i'm handling the events for my emmrichmancing rook, corentin.

spoilers ahead! beware that both essays are going to assume you have completed The Sacrifice of Souls and at least one of the follow up quests, Heir to the Dead or Will and Testament. if you have not, i suggest returning to this later and playing it out yourself.

so let's start with the most important question of the day:

what happens to the romance after the sacrifice of souls?

good news! no matter what you pick, the romance can continue on unabated. there's just some long-term details and tone changes that need to be considered.

if you choose to save manfred, be prepared for parenthood. previously, the game had poked at the idea of manfred being emmrich's kid, but now that manfred is talking and progressing at a rapid pace, he is in full "magic-flinging skeleton son" territory, and a romanced rook is going on that journey with emmrich. there is also now a near certainty that rook is going to outlive him—regardless of your personal headcanons, the game assumes that rook is younger than emmrich, and now that he's locked into a mortal lifespan that's something that needs to be considered. especially since, as discussed in part one, emmrich's fears of his own mortality haven't really been addressed at all.

but if you're into co-parenting a rambunctious skeleton with an older, gentlemanly necromancer (which, let's be real, is what most people signed up for when they hit those first flirt options anyway), then this path is probably exactly what you were looking for.

that said, let's talk about the lich romance angle. i was worried when i went down this path that the romance would just immediately end, but it actually doesn't! emmrich certainly wonders if it will—before he undergoes his rites, he has a conversation with rook about how they'll navigate a relationship once he's undead. he says that his senses will change, the way he feels (not about rook, but literally the way he feels) will change, and his body will be different. but they agree they can make it work, so hell yeah.

and if you like the whole "immortal lover" trope, there's some stuff here to like. the lich lords, when you arrive to bear witness to the rites, refer to rook as "challenger of the gods, volkarin's beloved", and emmrich waxes poetic about how even after rook passes, the way he feels about them will be immortalized alongside him. there's also a very sweet kiss before he goes into the rite, and rook has the opportunity to tell him they love him, just in case he doesn't come back out. and afterwards, they have a powerful, immortal skeleton boyfriend, so for the monsterfuckers in the audience.... nice.

so what's the catch?

if you're looking for a fairly unambiguously "happy ending", and if you like the idea of your rook parenting for the foreseeable future, saving manfred is your easy option. on this path, rook and emmrich will have many good years together before he dies. there's absolutely still room for angst here because of emmrich's unresolved issues, but there's definitely a more... domestic, low-key quality to this path.

the lich romance has some pretty glaring obstacles, and that's probably a big part of why a lot of people doing the romance might not pick this. first of all, he wasn't joking, he's literally a skeleton. he can put on a glamour for polite company, but he is a skeleton. realistically, intimacy is going to be complicated by that. on top of that, as a lich for the mourn watch, he's going to have certain duties that he can't get away from. myrna herself asks if they're going to be seeing less of emmrich now that he's a lich, and his answer is basically not yet. at some point, some time in the future, he is going to have to go into the necropolis to begin his lich duties and he won't really be coming back out after. so in a very real way, there is an invisible timer on the relationship where it'll basically be dead in the water unless rook makes some serious lifestyle changes* to accommodate that (assuming they're allowed to). so there's some built in angst with the lich romance that may or may not be your preferred flavour, because his job might end their relationship long before rook's mortal lifespan even becomes a consideration.

*theoretically a mourn watcher rook is going to have an easier time with that particular adjustment, but i'm speaking from my perspective as a LoF rook

decisions, decisions

this is the part where i start talking about my rook, but do us both a favour and keep reading, because believe it or not there is still some emmrich analysis in this part, and it might inspire you to do your own dissection for your rook, too.

so my rook is corentin laidir, and from the moment emmrich said the word "lich" he's been quietly freaking out about it. largely because of the whole "you're going to leave me to be a lich in the necropolis" thing.

i had hoped that resolving emmrich's quest line would give me a very clean solution to the lich freak out issue, and it does! ....if i liked the ending where we save manfred. which i don't. controversial opinion, but i don't actually care about manfred enough for corentin to be his second dad, and from a roleplay perspective i don't think corentin would advocate for bringing manfred back.

but on the other hand, the lich!emmrich option is quite literally corentin's nightmare. what corentin wants, at his core, is for emmrich to accept both manfred's death and his own, whenever it may come. he wants emmrich to understand that running from his own fear of death like that is beneath him. is it honouring death to defy it like that, even (supposedly) in the name of service? corentin would argue no, if he could bring himself to argue with emmrich about anything.

selfishly, corentin is also afraid of what eternity means. sure, emmrich says now that he'll always remember corentin and what they have, but what about a thousand years from now? he's afraid of being replaced, and of becoming insignificant to someone who is so, so important to him right now. in this life.

so the question becomes: do i choose an imperfect, happier ending that maintains emmrich's mortality, or do i throw corentin into an emotional blender?

why i'm putting corentin in the torment nexus

one of the problems of being a creatively-minded person while playing decision-based games is that there comes a time when you have to make a choice:

do i work with the options available to me, or do i pull out my scalpel and gut this thing?

and in moments like this, where neither option is quite right, i have no choice but to get surgical. pick what's interesting, and frankenstein that thing into something that works well enough to carry me to the end.

and the fact of the matter is, the lich path is just more interesting to me in this case because it's an angst machine, and because it makes sense for him to get stuck in it. if i dig into corentin's character, in that exact moment when a decision is made, there's no world where he's going to tell emmrich to give up on his life's work just to bring manfred back and stay mortal. but there is a world where he'd recognize that telling emmrich to give up on his life's work for a guy who loves him who he met five minutes ago is a dick move, and then he'd get completely caught off guard when emmrich says he's going to start preparing for his rites now.

so where does this leave corentin?

here's how i'm handling the situation for the time being, unless something comes along that completely revolutionizes how i feel about all this.

every time emmrich has talked about becoming a lich, it's always been a vague future thing with no real timeline attached. in hindsight, it's pretty clear that the only thing delaying the process was himself—emmrich was uncertain if he was willing to risk the danger of the rites. this uncertainty, however, has left corentin with the impression that even if he was 100% sure and raring to go forward, there would be tests and preparation that needed to happen first, and there would be time before the rites could happen.

so when the question of whether or not to save manfred comes up, corentin does what any good boyfriend would and he tells emmrich that he's dedicated his life to potentially becoming a lich, and he needs to be really certain before throwing that away.

corentin is allergic to being a bummer; even when he's really struggling with something, he feels like he can't talk about it if it'll upset someone else. emmrich is desperately afraid of death, and corentin is desperately afraid of being alone, so he's gotten very good at keeping himself... palatable. so when emmrich responds to his encouragement by saying that he'll start preparing for the rites immediately? well, corentin feels locked into the supportive boyfriend schtick. he feels like he has to be unerringly supportive and not question emmrich's decision, even though it is definitely something that effects him, too.

the whole time emmrich's preparing to become a lich, corentin is thumbs up "you got this babe!"-ing his way through it, all while frantically trying to squash down the feeling of impending doom. because he is 100% completely convinced the other shoe is going to drop at any moment and emmrich is going to go to the Lich Corner Store for cigarettes and never come home.

though it should be noted, the skeleton part of "skeleton boyfriend" is really the least of his concerns. it's just everything around that.

and where does this leave emmrich?

he doesn't know it, but it leaves him with a pretty miserable boyfriend. they're going to have to reckon with corentin's issues at some point.

just like they're going to have to deal with emmrich's. becoming a lich is maybe not 100% a good thing, at least not right this second. he says that he "thought he knew its price," and in keeping with that banter i linked in the first part, he seems unprepared for the reality of losing people. it feels a little like he's rushing into it headfirst before the grief can hit him full force and he can get cold feet.

i'm really curious how he's going to feel if something happens to corentin (or almost happens), and it gives him a reality check on his boyfriend's mortality. losing manfred is already unimaginably hard... is he prepared for what it's going to be like when he loses corentin?

because i don't think he's realized that he isn't, yet.

#word count: 1777 #emmrich #emmrichmance #oc: corentin #volkorentin #corentin pt #dav #dragon age #veilguard #datv #dragon age the veilguard #dav spoilers #dragon age spoilers #da meta #my meta #mine

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have-you-seen-my-sanity · 2 days ago

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OI characters with tourette s/o headcanons

This has been a request but I wasn't able to find it again. :(

Poe Dameron: Poe would be the most caretaking of you. This man puts you above anything else, even important meetings with Leia.

Whenever a tourette tic happens, (depending on what the tic is) and how much it may affect the people around you, he will take you into his arms, telling you how nothing should make you feel out of place, especially not your tourette.

If Poe can't be with you at the moment, he would ask BB-8, Finn or Chewie to look out for you. It breaks his heart knowing he can't be with you.

Whenever you feel particularly shy to go under the crowd out of the potential fear of getting weird looks or worse, Poe takes you out for a trip in the Millennium Falcon, visiting all your favorite places and planets.

If Poe and you aren't sharing quarters, he'd send BB-8 into yours for whenever you need some comfort. Ask BB-8 to get Poe and the droid will zip out to get him.

Poe wouldn't spare even a fracture of a second if you'd ask him to stay for the night. Has you in his embrace within a second.

Jake Lockley: Jake fights the urge to pull out a gun everytime he would see people looking at you in the wrong ways.

Jake always carries some meds for you if you think you'd need them.

If some of your tics causes something against him, Jake's face softens, his heart sinks down inside his chest at seeing your regretful gaze looking back at him. Will calm you down, wrapping his arms around you and telling you how strong you are.

Whenever you had a specifically bad day he would drive you around in his cab with comforting music, and if you fall asleep will carry you bridal style back inside your place.

If you think you don't deserve Jake with how good he's treating you, Jake will always prove you wrong, showing you the opposite.

Jake may be the ruthless menace working under Khonshu, but with you he is tame and understanding. Even Khonshu is surprised by how soft Jake could actually be if he really wants to. That stupid god won't understand anyway.

Steven Grant: This man has a whole row of books dedicated to tourette and how it may affects you.

Steven will try his absolute best in making you forget you even have tourette. If you're having your tics(again, depending how strong they are), he slowly calms you down, one hand on your back and the other holding your hand.

“'s okay love, breath with me. Breath. It's going to be alright, 'm here.”

Whenever you're having strong tics or getting looked at, Steven takes you into his arms, wanting nothing more than to shield you.

Just in case, Steven carries your meds and depending if some tics cause even harm to yourself, he has first aid always near him.

He won't get hurt or mad if you insult him because he knows it wasn't your intention to do it, then tries to comfort you.

Marc Spector: He literally is a mix between Steven and Jake. Marc himself has some trouble/drama going on in his life, so seeing you struggling with your tourette is tugging on his heart strings.

Just like Jake, he's ready to throw hands if someone makes a comment about you. Marc hates people insulting others for something they have no control of.

Marc does the same breath in-calm down with you like Steven does, mainly because it helps him with some situations too.

He knows life itself can be a pain in the ass sometimes and your tourette may make things harder, so he's always supportive of you no matter what.

Goes with you to the doctor and makes mental notes of everything that will help you.

Kindly reminds you to take your meds if you haven't already(they all do by the way).

Leto Atreides: Leto will spend 99% of his freetime with you. If he can't, a servant will take care of you, though he prefers to have a doctor near you if something happens.

Leto's guards will keep you safe and make sure no one even gets the thought of saying something bad to you.

The good behaved leader that he is, Leto has strict rules for his guards and servants if you're near them, especially the servants, he wants them to carry the best medicine.

He will always re-schedule his meetings for you, he knows it can be tough for you having those tics, so Leto stays with you all night, all day.

Leto tells his troops to not only defend house Atreides, but also you.

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Tags:

@nekoyin @steven-grants-world @iolaussharpe-24 @buckyssugarchick @krakenkitty

@deceasedream69 @lunaana-02 @sugarplumz100 @cordeliaelise @mochiitoby

@mooksmouse @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @minigirl87 @chaithetics

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#moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #star wars #poe dameron #dune 2021 #duke leto atreides #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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haru-dipthong · 2 days ago

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Ep 12 of my Utena fansub is out!

私たちも今までいろいろやってきた、疲れたわね

We've been so busy the last few episodes. I'm pooped.

A juicy little indulgence on my part here - the fourth wall break here by the shadow girls does not actually exist in the Japanese (explicitly). I’ll explain why I added it.

Here’s a very literal translation of the individual words above with no thought given to context or adjusting for grammar.

We (also) | until now | various different things | have done up to this point

I believe いろいろやってきた (lit. we’ve done various different things up to this point) is referring to their various performances in a sort of meta way. If we take each appearance of the shadow girls as a semi-in-universe mini stage play, this line is referencing the presence of previous plays within the current play. They’ve played pirates, plate spinners, cowboys, an educational program, and more! Acknowledging these things is tantamount to a performer acknowledging the fact that they’re an actor rather than a character while on stage, so the fourth wall break felt appropriate.

Anya was also happy with the fourth wall break and added that it emphasises the episode as a turning point and helps close out the arc, which I really agree with!

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また黙秘するわけね。今のウテナってかっこ悪いよ。何か取られた腑抜けみたい。なんだかわからないけど、取られたら取り返しなさいよ！

Are you clamming up again? You look pathetic right now. Like you let someone steal from you! I don’t know what it was, but if someone took something from you, take it back!

Couple of little things to discuss about this line:

かっこ悪い is often translated as “uncool” or “lame”. This can sometimes be accurate, since it’s the opposite of かっこいい (lit. cool), but in this circumstance those words don’t hit hard enough. This かっこ悪い is more barbed than usual, so I kept the barbs by choosing a different word: pathetic.

“Clamming up” was an off the cuff choice because I felt I’d used “be quiet”, “not talk”, etc too many times in the previous scene to reuse them here. I think it fits with Wakaba’s personality and the current situation pretty well! 黙秘 is defined by jisho.org as “remaining silent; keeping secret”.

腑抜け means “coward” or something similar. I tried phrasing this line a few times to get that word in somehow, but in the end the whole rant just read so much better without forcing it in. Also cps (characters per second) was a concern here.

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元気な友達がいるね。

Your friend has quite the personality.

元気 (genki). What a word! Often translated as “energetic”. So often in fact, that even before I checked, I knew that the ohtori.nu translation would have used it, and sure enough!

Your friend is very energetic. (from ohtori.nu)

Along with “eyesore” and “confession (of love)”, this might take the bronze medal for common Japanese words that consistently get translated into very uncommon English words.

Of course, 元気 can literally mean “having a lot of energy”, or simply “well” (as in the opposite of “unwell”). But “energetic” is just such a bad translation for it 90% of the time. I wish I could convey why in words, but in most contexts, the word 元気 and the word “energetic” just feel so different.

Anyway, 元気 has quite a positive nuance, which emphasises the passive aggressiveness of Touga’s comment. The intent with this line is that he’s giving a vague compliment to Wakaba, indirectly (talking about her as if she’s not there), and making it clear that he wishes she wasn’t around. Everything else about the line should be secondary, including the specific meanings of each word.

I think this is emblematic of my general approach to translation — to identify the author’s original intent of a line/scene/work and then write it in a different language with the same intent in mind. Every line, every scene, is trying to do something — I believe it’s the translator’s job to identify what each line and scene is supposed to be doing and preserve that, so media literacy is very important. Sometimes that line is doing exposition, in which case a literal translation of each word is often ideal. Sometimes that line is trying to evoke a feeling, establish a character, or make the audience remember similar experiences, in which case the individual words used matter much less. In this case, the line is attempting to invoke memories of similar experiences of passive aggressive, dismissive comments. And frankly, “Your friend is very energetic” does not do that, so I consider it a poor translation.

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Thanks as always to my ride or die @dontbe-lasanya for their awesome editing this episode (and every episode!)

Make sure to follow the blog for episodes as they're released. Go here for all previous episodes:

#revolutionary girl utena #rgu #shoujo kakumei utena #sku #translation #japanese #japanese language #langblr #utena fansub #official blog post

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wandixx · 3 days ago

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You'll never find the aswers ch.4

Words in this part: 5547

Story summary: M'gann was having an amazing day. She met with her civilian friends, drank an amazing smoothie, saw a cute dog. For a few hours, she didn't have to think about problems that took more than 20 minutes to solve. For a few hours, she could just be Megan.

And then there was a scream of a woman, mother, who thought too loud and faded too fast and M'gann wasn't enough to save her and it made her whole world come crashing down

And then Danny found her, with a soft smile and patient voice. He kneeled beside her to pick up the pieces.

And shards cut them both in the process.

This part summary: M'gann and Danny hold a funeral ceremony

Trigger warnings: Mention of Character Death (should I still put it in chapter tw with... everything this fic is?), (Made up) Funeral Traditions, Referenced Cultural Appropriation (I think? I'm not sure. He means well, he's trying but he just couldn't learn everything)

Please let me know if I forgot to put something here

first chapter, previous chapter

M'gann's hands were trembling. It didn’t make any sense since she was sitting in a relatively warm room and just trying to force herself to do her homework. But her hands were trembling and her head was empty. She pressed her pen to the paper anyway and wrote her human name in the corner to at least have something. It looked wrong. Her handwriting always looked weird when she was holding her pen so hard.

Mountain was unusually quiet. Most of the time it was just her and Conner here, and neither of them were particularly loud, but usually there was something to be heard. Rooms were soundproofed to give people with super hearing some chance to rest and everyone else some privacy, but M’gann almost always left her door at least cracked. It still was too quiet. Like there was nobody there in a fifty mile radius around her. Her ears were ringing just enough to be counted as a sound.

Artemis said once that when she couldn’t think of a way to start writing an essay, she would try to find a definition of the key word in the topic. It apparently was a good way to get started.

M’gann stared at the printed sentence for what felt like milenia and still didn’t know what she actually read, let alone identified a crucial part of it. Her brain just felt disconnected a bit. Not quite like she stood next to herself but like she leaned back a little.

She sighed and threw her head to stare at the ceiling for a moment as if it held answers to any of her problems.

Knock… knock, knock, knock-knock-knock!

Danny was at her door, knocking on the frame. At some point or another, way back when she thought she could actually help and save people and be a hero people expected her to be, back then Danny would come around to her room a lot and along the way they created a knocking system. This pattern meant something important.

She really didn't feel like she had energy for important.

Knocking repeated. She got up and opened the door fully. Her telepathy felt harder to use lately, as a side effect of overall impairment of psychic powers Martians typically experience at the times of great distress. In her case it depended on a day. Sometimes she could use her powers like nothing happened. Sometimes, like today, even the easiest tasks felt out of reach.

Danny smiled solemnly at her and slowly held out his hand. There were two colorful spheres in it, a bit smaller than a ping pong ball and imperfect in shape as if they were handmade by someone inexperienced. Her fingers brushed on the uneven surface. Breath caught in her throat, her lungs stilled. She recognized the colors, she recognized the texture, she recognized the scent.

Those were mourning orbs.

“Everything is ready” he announced earnestly, whispering as if it would be an utter sacrilege to speak any louder. She nodded. She looked back at her room, her eyes darting around anxiously. She was supposed to prepare urns. She didn’t even think about touching it.

“It alright, I've got it” Danny placated seeing her fear and shifted his bag to bring her attention to it. He was so gentle that M’gann wanted to cry a bit. What did she do to deserve it?

He held her hand now, soft and tender. There was an unexpected comfort coming from his familiar calluses rubbing against her still bruised skin.

“Are you ready? We can do it another time if your not”

Her vision blurred a bit but she nodded, exiting her room. They began walking, Danny leading the way to the place he found. She couldn’t bring herself to wonder where it was. Contact helped her stay more firmly in her body but her thoughts were still fuzzy around the edges. Their footsteps weren't making any sound. Danny most likely shared his intangibility with her, to make sneaking around easier. She was familiar with the tingling of her skin it caused.

He was careful but sure in his route. His head was slightly tilted, like always when he was continuously using his enhanced hearing. He was probably making sure they won't bump into anyone, even if they could turn invisible the moment someone showed up. If they wanted to disappear at all, in theory nobody should stop them from just coming outside.

She appreciated it. She didn't want to see anyone else right then.

She rarely thought about how harsh lights in the Mountain were and how intense smelt the lemon detergent they used for floors. Silence around them was heavy, overwhelming, loud in a way that didn't make any sense. Main room was staring when they crossed it, despite being empty.

She wasn't sure why she was able to breathe a little deeper only when they were by the door. Mountain was her home. She liked it. She felt safe there.

She felt like tearing her skin off until they left.

She had to blink a few times when the sun hit her eyes. She didn’t even realize how much darker it was inside. She didn't like the thought that it was her first time outside since she came back from school on Friday. It was late Sunday. Danny stopped and only continued after making sure she was alright. He let go of intangibility, letting their feet break twigs on the ground and brush along the soft grass.

It was warm outside, sun low enough to begin painting the sky in yellows and oranges and pinks while most of it stayed light blue. M’gann breathed in the scent of earth and leaves and overall life outside that felt too strong for how dry the past few days were.

“We're almost there. I hope you'll like it“ Danny said with a reassuring smile when she slowed down to take it all in. They stopped walking for a moment.

M’gann tried to return his smile but it felt wrong. Like she was possessing her own body and had to almost manually pull muscles for every gesture, continuously using wrong controls.

“I'm sure I will,” she said. She realized with a strat that it was the first time she spoke that day. Her voice was scratchy and uncomfortable. Judging by the concerned glance Danny sent her way, he caught it too. She cleared her throat like it could change anything. Her hand was lightly squeezed. They went deeper into the forest surrounding Mount Justice.

They walked a bit more, slower than before. Despite released intangibility that would indicate they didn't need to sneak around, Danny was careful to not break too many branches and M’gann followed suit. Here silence wasn't suffocating but sacred. Gentle wind was rustling leaves above their heads while a few birds sang. It was late enough both in the day and the year for them to appear after doing whatever they did the whole day outside of mornings and evenings full of music. Before… before the accident, she sometimes woke up early to watch the sunrise and listen to them, before heat became unbearable even for Earth born beings. She too wasn't too keen on the heat of summer.

They stopped in the clearing small enough that most of it was still in the shadows of surrounding trees. Only some rays of golden sunlight made it through the leaves, illuminating a miniature, fragile looking bush in the middle. The earth around it was freshly disturbed.

“We're here” Danny explained, barely louder than the breeze “You said you wanted something human to it and we usually put flowers so I took liberty and planted it here. Maybe it was too much. If it is, just tell me, I don't think it's settled enough to not survive uprooting. Sam helped me pick it, she mentioned something about flower language. I don't know much about it but I can try expla–”

“It's perfect, thank you” she choked out, not really listening. It truly was.

“Oh, okay. Okay, cool”

Sun was peeking in between leaves, marking their faces with golden flecks. Any other time she would say it looked almost magical. She felt alone all of the sudden. Of course Danny was there, silent and solemn but other than that, outside of this little clearing stopped in time, the whole world could stop existing and she wouldn't realize. She wouldn't care.

Mourning orbs somehow made their way to her hand, accompanied by a traditional necklace to carry one of them. Both of them already had some emotional residue in them, like all handmade things tended to. She liked it. Her heart felt warmer sensing utter devotion that sinked in with the time Danny spent working on them. It was too faint for him to catch, sincere as one could get.

Traditional necklace meant to hide one of them was clinically clean, made by some professional.

Danny put his bag on the ground, and took out a set of two urns. M’gann winced internally. They weren’t made by him, obviously. It wasn’t a problem. Process of creating urns was too complicated for even an untrained Martian to replicate, let alone human who had two weeks to learn. It was a sophisticated art, specifically cultivated by White Martians in their workshops. Urns Danny brought weren’t wrong in any outright visible way. They were clearly made by someone who knew their craft, a bit wider than normal but not enough to be incorrect. Clearly, the big rim was a part of the design for some reason. If she focused enough, she probably could even guess from which artist family they came. The urns were frankly stunning, painted with rusty reds, some oranges and muted yellows and white, the color of death and danger, bright yellow like Priest’s skin to signify how sacred the item and ceremony in general were, barely there smidge of hopeful light blue and saturated red like royalty’s skin to tell anyone who could see it, how important the person mourned was to the people attending a funeral. They held weird green tinge to them and M’gann carefully didn’t consider what most likely caused it, focusing on the a bit too complicated, ornate shapes and perfectly even surfaces. If she had a chance to get a traditional funeral when the time came for her, she’d like to get urns almost like these.

But they were dead. Carefully kept from being polluted by foreign feelings. M’gann knew it was an industry norm, almost no one wanted stranger’s feelings on their gift for the dead. But it rubbed her the wrong way. She wanted feelings on her gifts, even stranger’s would be better than this unnerving emptiness. She couldn’t stand that something so personal was so dead. It didn’t make sense on a level so fundamental she couldn’t quite express it in words in her own head. Her urns should be ingrained with her tears and if not, with anything else, they should hold someone’s passion for the craft or annoyance at weird request or something, anything really.

Many others shared her opinion on the matter, so often in between getting a finished product from a workshop and the funeral itself, there was a set time when family and others that were supposed to attend the main ceremony would meet to fill urns with their feelings.

But obviously Danny couldn’t know that. So his urns were empty, perverted, wrong like a macabre funhouse mirror. off just enough to make people unsettled while being right enough to immediately recognise yourself in a distorted image.

“Do you want me to leave or do it with you?” he asked, bringing her back from her mussing.

Did she want him to leave? Not really. It felt intimidating for some reason. Overwhelming. Lonely. She didn’t want to be by herself while pouring her heart out to the world. She wasn't supposed to be on her own while doing it.

On the other hand, despite his clear, enormous effort, Danny didn’t know what it was supposed to look like. If anything, this slight mishap with urns proved that there was so much he had yet to learn and she didn’t want his lack of knowledge to profane the ceremony. Especially since he didn’t have any connection, any reason to feel anything towards the woman in whose memory they even did it.

But he seemed earnest in his respectful silence, ready to give the unknown dead person all of the reverence they deserved. And she didn't want to be alone.

“Stay please“ she breathed out, so softly she wasn't sure he heard her. But he nodded, taking out two other orbs from his hoodie pocket.

“These were the trial runs,” he explained hurriedly “I took them just in case. I didn't plan on using them. And I only have two urns. I’ll get another two later, I promise”

“It's alright. You put a lot of effort into it all. Thank you”

Danny stared at her with a look somewhere between offended and absolutely appalled.

“You can't halfass preparations for the funeral, it's like, the most basic decency!“

There was some sort of weird longing and jealousy(?) that flared up when she said that, strong enough that her impaired brain picked it up. They should talk about that later. It was potentially something she could do to at least partially repay him for all the effort he was putting in helping her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad-”

“It’s okay, you did nothing wrong. I’m just a bit touchy about this stuff. It’s not even a ghost thing, just a me thing, really. You had no way of knowing, it’s okay”

They’ll definitely have to talk about it later. Not now though. They had other things to get done at the moment.

“Alright. I’m still sorry”

Danny just sighed and went back to searching his bag.

With gritted teeth M’gann changed back to her true form. After so long in Megan’s body it felt wrong, too stretched out and squeezed in all of the uncomfortable places, but she stayed like that. There were no lies to be told at the funeral.

Some part of her wanted to scream and rub the skin off of herself.

“Should I switch to Phantom?” Danny whispered.

“It depends. Which form do you consider the true you?”

Halfa hadn’t said anything, furrowing his brows, analyzing her question from all the angles by the looks of it. After a long moment his face smoothed over again and looked her in the eyes.

“I’m here as your friend not as a hero. Tell me when you’re ready to start”

She nodded and with an unpracticed gesture she put one of the Mourning Orbs in the necklace. She took a few steps to stand at an appropriate distance from the bush. Under normal circumstances, in its place would be preserved brain and ashes of the body, or if it wasn’t possible, something truly personal to the dead person. They had neither. Even little bit of blood that got on her clothes wasn’t available as it disappeared the moment she switched clothes. It still made her sith when she thought about it. Her ectoplasm was useless two, covering M’gann in a way that even Danny couldn’t reverse.

Boy stood on the opposite side with a grim expression on his face, holding his a bit shapeless orb like it was both a lifeline and the most precious thing he ever encountered.

She wasn’t ready. She was terrified. The memory of the dead body in her arms was just at her fingertips and she wasn’t ready to actually remember. Her breath hitched. Danny nodded with an encouraging twitch of emotions.

Let it all out~ he seemed to say. His voice and that of her home sang in unison and she could only do so much against their joined forces.

First tear ran down her cheek, quickly joined by next and next.

She held the body in her hands, staring as the life slowly left it, each desperate thought getting quieter and quieter, more hopeless as M’gann tried her best to put crushed ribs back together based on telepathic touch alone because she didn’t have an x-ray amd the family was getting broken in front of her and she wasn’t sure if the gut wrenching sobs she heard came from her or from the little boy whose smile she saw in his mother’s dying thoughts. She destroyed this little boy and his family and she couldn’t do anything to fix it and an apology would be pointless but she was going to do it anyway. She was powerful and yet, she couldn’t save life in front of her and it was so unfair that her shortcomings hurt these innocent people.

She would switch their places if she could because they deserved to be happy and together and she could stand that they weren’t because of her and her knees hit the ground much stronger than she would think was possible in relieved memory. There was blood on her hands and she spent countless nights trying to wash it off, even though most of the bleeding was internal. Three was cheerful little boy waiting for his mom and she would never get to him because she was dying on M’gann’s lap and it was her fault and why wouldn’t world punish the responsible and not the bystander and she was choking, her chest tightly squeezed and it didn’t make sense because she didn’t need to breathe as much but earthly air still felt to thin and a woman on her lap drowned in her own blood and how could M’gann let it happen and, and, and…

And now she was using her friend who was already stretched thin and she kept worrying him and others and she was trying to get better and help people like she was supposed to instead of adding to their workload. But she couldn’t force herself to appear alright enough, not in front of Danny, being naturally more intune with emotions, and it was only a matter of time before they left because she was too much to deal with and was too weak and too useless to justify all their effort. She couldn’t get alright but she had to because she was supposed to be better and she trained more to get where she should already be but her mind and body kept slipping, kept betraying her and she was dead, the woman was dead because M’gann didn’t, couldn’t save her and now she was dead, she was dead.

She was dead, she was dead, she was dead…

Only when she couldn’t cry anymore, and when she got too tired to feel, did she open her eyes. With some surprise she realized she actually fell to her knees, back in the form she had that day. She shivered and quickly turned back to her true form. It wasn’t something that was supposed to happen.

Danny solemnly stood where he did before, fiddling with his hands like he did when he was stopping himself from doing something very intently. All of his feelings were kept tightly in his grasp, undetectable without an almost violent pressing. M’gann knew from experience how straining it was and it had to be undeniably harder for someone as unused as him.

She was almost sure he did that to not overwhelm her even more. She probably wouldn’t be able to tell him how thankful she was for that.

Curiously enough, despite how well he hid at the moment, she could sense the tangled mess of feelings he let out just before. She wasn’t in the right headspace to wonder or read what these emotions were but she knew they were strong. Much more intense than she expected of him. After all, he never even met the woman. He knew her only as a victim of M’gann’s shortcomings, taken from the world too soon. He wasn’t obliged to feel anything, to work on the whole memorial and yet he did, with more respect than she saw during some ceremonies she witnessed back home.

“Now we should burn it,” she said, her voice not raising above the quiet rustling of the leaves above their heads. In her White Martian form she could probably brush on them with her head if she stood straighter.

Burning was a complicated part. It had to be done calmly and slowly, with a confident hand so none of the ashes ended up outside of the small urn. Back on Mars, there were Priests and Priestesses, Flame Tamers who trained for ages to get rid of natural fear of fire and control flames before they caught anything they shouldn’t. Anyone inexperienced would taint the ceremony. Obviously they didn’t have anyone experienced anyway and they were both quite susceptible to the heat alone.

Flame Tamers always had a set of heavily ornate tools, that only ever they were allowed to touch. One of them, probably most important, was a stick with a funnel on the one end. It was still really precise to work with, but from what M’gann understood, it significantly facilitated the task. Danny took out a thin metal stick, from his seemingly bottomless bag. It looked like it belonged to chocolate fountain assorted silverware but she couldn't really judge him on that. She wasn't sure if there was punishment great enough for someone who would pervert such a sacred tool and gave it to anyone.

“Sorry, that's the best thing I could find”

No matter how he got everything else, there was no way he could get it too. It would be both too good and too unsettling. She was already uneasy from the horrible contrast between the calm, warm, beautiful day in the forest near the place she wanted to call home and the ceremony from her cold, unforgiving past, which was always held in the coldest of the caves, ones with the thinnest air. The most inhabitable ones.

“That’s alright”

Danny winced, looking like he wanted to disagree but didn’t say anything. They both stayed quiet for a long moment, on a lonely, quiet clearing.

“How do you want to do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I only have a really vague idea how this part looks. Nobody wants to tell me how it looks. What do we do now?”

Of course nobody told him. She was surprised he learned this much anyway. He shouldn’t. How the ceremony goes was supposed to stay secret from anyone and everyone who didn’t attend it. It was too vulnerable an event to share anything outside.

But now Danny needed to know. Someone had to tell him.

M’gann explained even though her tongue felt too big and too dry in her mouth.

She wished she could just put information in his brain. She knew far too well how Danny would react to that.

“Oh, alright, alright. Do you want me to do it or…”

“You. I wasn’t trained.”

I still fear fire, she didn’t say.

It will hurt less if it’s you who messes up, she didn’t say.

He heard it anyway and responded with a nod.

He stabbed the mourning orb with a stick (M’gann didn’t wince, M’gann didn’t wince) and fished out a lighter from his hoodie pocket. It was the lighter, night sky blue one, patterned with golden stars. The one he almost never used because it was too precious to him. Gift from someone he couldn’t bring up without tears, let alone mention them by name.

M’gann felt like crying again.

He kneeled, doing his best to stabilize his hand over the urn and let a flame lick an urn until part of it turned warm gray and started crumbling. If Danny used the right materials (and he did, as far as she could tell by texture) it didn’t need to be on fire the whole time. Just this starting nudge.

Smoke smelled like iron on the surface. Just right.

She started whispering prayers around the gulp in her throat, their soft melody rolling easily off her tongue. She should be louder, they were meant to be heard, because how else can gods know to help her traveling to whatever was her place to rest. She should be louder because her song was lost in between chirping birds and quiet wind.

But the prayer was never meant to be sung by one person. There was never supposed to be anything else that could be louder. (She wasn’t sure if she remembered words right).

This woman had her own gods anyway. Martian ones didn’t need to guide her.

She sang a little louder anyway.

She was on a very poetic passage about promise to never forget and always grieve when Danny’s hand trembled. Ash almost got over the rim of the urn, almost got polluted. M’gann flinched and stopped singing.

Up until this point he was doing surprisingly well. Maybe even suspiciously if she didn't know he had no way and no reason to actually train it. But there he was, almost as sure and precise as some Flame Tamers were.

Whoever designed the urns probably suspected that. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if they were standard size.

Even from the height of her ‘true’ form she could see tremors running through his body and a way his face was screwed to contain crying. The way he seemed to carefully measure each breath. He caught his wrist with other hand, his grip so strong that his knuckles turned white.

“Sorry about it. Don’t interrupt yourself” he muttered, his voice hoarse from unshed tears.

Some dark part of her mind wanted to listen to him, but the thought lasted no longer than half a second, drowned by guilt. Up until this point M’gann had never really considered how attending a funeral would affect Danny. He just seemed so ready and almost… excited for the lack of a better word. Eager to help like he always did. Never uncomfortable, even a slightest bit, with an idea, other than the first time when she wrote it off as overall stress from consoling her right after the… right after.

But she wasn’t really looking for it either, was she? How many things she missed because of her stupid impaired brain or because she was too self centered on her own pain or because he tucked it fast enough to consider it her mistake. But he was clearly not fine and his orbs were filled to the brim and everything filling them was just tad too personal.

“Are you sure you’re alright? We can take a break. Or I can finish on my own.”

It wasn’t really supposed to happen but really, there were so many rules they broke. It wouldn’t change anything if they broke one more. Danny’s wellbeing was more important anyway, plus it’s not even that she needed Martian gods to help the woman. He said himself, it was mostly to help her and she wouldn’t feel any better if her friend worked himself to breakdown.

“I’m fine Meg” he muttered, hiding his tears a bit better “Just… It’s a beautiful prayer. I got moved by it” he explained, not lying but not telling the truth. There was another pang of jealousy that slipped his control. She made sure to remember it. They couldn’t talk about it at the moment, but they had to speak about it later “You can finish, I’m fine”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Sing Meg. I want to know how it ends,” he said softly. If his tone was a bit less sincere he would sound demanding. He didn’t. She knew if she really dug her heels in she could stop and Danny wouldn't fault her.

She sang again, this time it didn’t feel like she had to fight wind to be heard. She was singing for the victim and Danny both. Yes, they both had their own gods but Martian ones could lend their hands. Maybe that’s what they both needed to rest.

This time it felt like a soft breeze carried her voice, like chirping birds turned a bit more solemn and they complemented the simple but powerful melody. Words rolled off her tongue with ease. Last bits of her devastation and grief were unsticking from her soul, leaving her body with each line, each sound.

It was cleansing.

She looked up at the sky when she finished, pinks and oranges familiar in a beautiful and terrifying way.

She heard rustling when Danny stood up. She didn’t realize she zoned out long enough for him to finish burning the second orb. It wasn’t important. He smiled at her, small and comforting, craning his neck to look her in the eyes. He rummaged around his bag again and took out intricate containers that usually held the brain and ashes from the rest of the body with some solvent. They too were created by a clear master of the art.

She really needed to ask Danny how he got all of this.

“Where do we…?”

Before he could finish, she gently took both objects out of his hands. It was something she needed to do on her own.

She carefully put them in the same distance from the anemic bush that marked the center of the grave circle. Usually the remains of the dead were placed first thing first during the ceremony, but in cases like this, when there was nothing, the reminder of it was put as almost last. There was no place for lies during the funeral. Even if the lie was just to make it hurt a tiny bit less.

Then she fixed the placement of the urn, in the circle around the brain. She carefully didn’t think about how it should be half circle, about to be finished when everyone moved on, and not mere two lone urns.

“To finish we need stones that’ll mark the border of the grave,” she explained, looking for anything sufficient. Usually funerals were attended by enough people so there was no problem with making a consistent circle but there were only two of them. Stupid tears filled her eyes. She wished she could do it properly. There was no way they could do all of the steps correctly and she knew from the start. It went better than she could expect.

She still felt an urge to throw a tantrum about everything that was wrong, wrong, WRONG!

Danny fished out two big stones, almost squares, a bit less than foot wide, about four inches tall. She knew that he had enhanced strength but it still looked unnecessarily heavy. Especially when paired with everything else he had to carry.

“Do you try to get a hernia or something? There are other ways to skip training, you know?” she joked, drying her eyes with her wrist.

Danny stayed silent for a moment, as if he was looking for words, with empty eyes and blank face. M’gann didn’t know if it was an angle or new light or something totally else, that made dark bags under his eyes more pronounced. He seemed a bit paler, too.

“Nah. But you two deserve all the best things I could get for you,” he muttered softly. He raised both stones higher, pointedly closer to her hands. He smiled at her, earnest and solemn.

Was he trying to make her cry again? If he did, he was doing a great job at it.

“Yeah?” she choked out around a sudden gulp in her throat.

“Of course”

They put stones across each other, small, missed twig snapping under the weight. Birds kept singing cheerfully and wind kept blowing as if to spite them, as if to remind them that the world was still moving forward and even things closest to them wouldn’t stop for even a second.

It should be silent. Why wouldn’t it be silent?!

M’gann finally turned back to her green form. Danny quietly opened his arms, a quiet invitation to the hug she could reject if she so wanted. She threw herself into it fast enough to make the boy grunt.

It wasn't an all encompassing type of hug, they were too similar in size for that. But it was warm, soft and unyielding in all the right places. She was safe in it, separated from the outside world in a way no walls could ever manage. Like the most beautiful song, she could hear and feel life in Danny’s body, each deep breath and small twitch of muscles and subconscious moves of his head that made his hair tickle her cheek. She wasn’t exactly tense before but her body uncoiled the longer she was being held. It wasn’t hard to tell that Danny did too.

Neither of them mentioned hands fisted on the backs of their shirts. Neither of them mentioned how the deep breaths turned just a bit more shallow and hitched. Neither of them mentioned how tender grass cushioned their fall.

M’gann couldn’t tell she felt better, with a tension headache and all of her emotions just too close and raw.

But she felt lighter and that was probably the first step.

******

I love this chapter, it's probably one of my favorites, but god damn was it pain to write. I liked writing it, but I was getting to it like dog to a hedgehog. I just had to be in the right mood to write it, y'know. It's probably kinda why I didn't finish rewriting before I had to start posting and why I run out of backlog hah (and right at the part that I think needs the biggest rewrite and cannot bring myself to it. Though now I have college deadline maybe I'll manage to procrastinate in a productive way)

And I had absolute blast comming up with these traditions, @audhumla-sailor can confirm that

But yeah, I love this chapter, I hope you like it too thanks to or despite a bit more... poetic way of writing

Drink something and check in with yourself if your binge reading

AO3 link

Next part

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdcbang2024 #g&g24 #danny fenton & m'gann m'orzz #wandixx writes #have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

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nowshesdoingitallthetime · 27 days ago

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oh this is bad for tumblr user @nowshesdoingitallthetime

#THEY DID THIS FOR ME #AM I LATE PROBABLY BUT I HAVE MIDTERMS GUYS PLEASE #A GIRL IS FIGHTING FOR HER LIFE RN IM SORRY #anyway back to what’s actually important here #GEORGE #CHARLI #AHHHHHHHHH #I CANNOTTTTT #PLEASE #CAN EITHER OF THEM FIGHT?!?#mostly george #i could take him I reckon #(he would snap me like a fucking twig)#((and I’d let him! :)!))#george daniel #Charli xcx

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fridgrave2-0 · 2 months ago

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hehe ghost-turbo haunting felix au

turbo is connected to the last piece of his code in the whole arcade - a trophy he gifted to felix in mid 80s as a symbol of him genuinely caring about their relationships on par with being the best racer. felix also gave him one of his medals and both kept their gifts next to other rewards, but when roadblasters and turbotime were unplugged, the medal was gone with everything else

now, after burning in cola-lava turbo is basically dead, but scraps of his code still were intertwined with the trophy (after all, it was his first winner's cup, but felix never knew about it), giving turbo an opportunity to exist as a shadow incapable of interacting with anything and anyone besides felix, who kept the trophy even after the roadblasters incident

also I went crazy in tags, feel free to check them out

#turbo #turbotastic #fix it felix jr #80s boyfriends #hammertastic #headcanon about them exchanging their trophies isn't mine but i loved it A LOT #and “darling” is turbo making fun of how felix was calling him in 80s #this hc about “doll” and “darling” pet names also is not mine but i adore it #turbo here is a complete freak who just stays around felix most of the time even when felix has moments with calhoun #and felix is an ass who keeps secrets from everyone bc he doesn't want his dirt to come out #he's ashamed of his previous relationship with turbo and doesn't want anyone to know any details #and calhoun to just know about it #this just gets worse and worse #they also didn't actually break up and were still technically dating when turbo went gamejumping #and he's mad af at felix because he's the reason ppl in the acrade made a boogeyman out of turbo and he couldn't come back #like imagine your bf says to you what you are better than others think of you #and then behind your (presumably dead) back tells everyone that you're just an egocentric maniac #i believe turbo has other reasons why he gamejumped (besides jealousy which took place but wasn't the most important reason)#and felix is an unreliable narrator #so yeah turbo HATES his ass #(but still would-) no im not making it suggestive #anyway i hc that turbo had put A LOT of emotions in this relationship even tho he's bad at this #he tried his best with felix but they were just making each other worse #and turbo while feeling betrayed never really moved on (yes even after 25 years he's PATHETIC)#and felix is just full of regret about everything but he won't admit his mistakes in his relationship with turbo #bc “well he turned out to be a bad person so that automatically makes me in the right about everything”#but felix had made a lot of bad decisions while dating turbo and was just classically ignorant about a ton of things #sorry about this random ass essay in tags i'm done for now #wreck it ralph #wir

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camellcat · 8 days ago

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stray thought but why didn’t they just let giles die in spiral? like... other than make buffy miserable what does he even do in the later seasons? I feel like it would've been better to just let him go out on a good note than waste away as a character

#absolutely let me know if I'm wrong please #but I've just finished s6 and what. what was the purpose of him even being there #in fact he WASN'T there!! his bitch ass self was in england!!!!#he was RIGHT when he said he wasn't needed but he hasn't BEEN needed since SEASON 3!!!!!#like could he not have just set some firmer boundaries with buffy. completely abandoning her was so extreme #plus I think killing him would've been like scary y’know?#cause the core scoobies are always safe in this show. in fact everyone BUT the core scoobies die around here #so to kill giles? big BIG deal!!#well actually I guess buffy dies a lot but she keeps coming back so idk if she counts exactly #me when I want all everybody to die #I realize I've also talked about how spike could've died within this season hahaha they say kill your darlings or whatever #also I get it was important that he killed ben for buffy but like being fr? I think xander and willow could've done it #for buffy? maybe. maybe. but for willow? I think xander would kill someone for willow. especially cause this guy is host of the hell god #and y'know willow would kill for willow. well tara but willow's love is a very selfish love so also for herself #anyways I think they could've done it they just didn't have to #and obviously spike would if he could not a question there #rupert giles #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer

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spacedlexi · 9 months ago

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the way the ericson group were at the outbreak just a bunch of troubled kids who made various mistakes or committed crimes and were judged by a system that punished and abandoned them instead of giving them the support and love they needed, are then nearly a decade later put into a situation where now they must judge a troubled child for the mistakes and crimes hes committed against them. and 5 to 3 vote them out 😭

#twdg #i love the way s4 connects back to lees whole 'murderer' thing back in s1 😭 guilt...atonement.....systems of punishment #i love thinking about s1>s4 themes and crying #anyway this is partially why i hate when i see the ericson cast reduced down to 'just some teens' its so much more than that #them being abandoned in a boarding school for troubled kids is SO IMPORTANT its not 'just some school'#anyway its also probably why theyre my favorite cast #theyre literally one of if not the most mature group of the series even while being a bunch of kids who make choices i dont agree with #because they actually love and care about each other. even when theyre mad. because theyre all they have left #i do think the vote was a fair way to handle it even tho i still ultimately find it cruel. they couldve talked it out #but this is still a story that needs conflict to resolve so is what it is #they would rather they leave than have to face their confused feelings. the most immature thing they do. but understandable #they did such a good job crafting that cast for clem GOD an entire ensemble built around her and aj....delicious #zombie/post apoc media about love and community my beloved 😭#sorry but get tf out of here with that 'humans are evil and everyone dies' lame ass bullshit we are nothing without community #the amount of love pouring out of s4 is like getting my ass kicked but then they give me a big hug and kiss after and send me on my way #s4 my absolute beloved i really love it more and more every time. so much to appreciate even with it the way it is #the themes bro the themes........ the connections between seasons 1 and 4 you are everything to me #it speaks

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mercymaker · 4 months ago

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went to bed last night feeling that it was finally time to step back and let the dust settle and try to get things back to normal and then woke up to all that

#life #don't get me wrong i'm all for stepping back and starting over #i feel like people would be much more willing to give third or fourth chances if you just take responsibility #ACTUALLY own up to your mistakes (instead of playing the victim) and just say 'hey i fucked up i'm sorry i'll be taking a break'#for self reflection or whatever #all of us make mistakes all of us mess up and hurt others whether intentionally or not #it's human #yet i also feel like it's important what we do about it yaknow? you can't change the past but you certainly can the future #i believe we all can learn and grow from mistakes and become better #my naive dickhead ass wants to sincerely hope that he will change and get better #and choose being a respectful human being instead of chasing clout #but seeing how everything's been unfolding i fear that he will just go back to his old ways but will try to mask it better this time #hoping for starting over without doing the same old copy-paste stuff and being respectful #fearing it's just block-evading #anyway.. here's to hoping this will be the last of it

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amphibianaday · 2 years ago

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day 1107

#amphibian #olm #described in alt text #i tried a pixel art app on my phone it was not very easy to use #it would probably be better for actual pixel art but this was kinda fun #an important fac tof drawing daily is it wont always be good. accept this and have fun anyways #which is what i tell myself to beat down the urge to go back and draw something better those days #im here to draw daily i never said anything about the QUALITY of those drawings

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doctorbrown · 4 months ago

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MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 24 / 31 * OUT IN THE DESERT 」

January—March 1943

From the moment he’d been visited at the university by Oppenheimer with Groves in tow, the latter a looming, intimidating presence towering over him in his uniform compared to the amicable and even friendly disposition of Oppenheimer, he’d felt the cold bite of the Sword of Damocles pressed against his neck, digging deeper and deeper with each day he’d been left in purgatory, waiting.

He feared he’d lose his head before ever hearing the official outcome of his new employment.

When one of his colleagues had approached him about a week and a half after their departure, informing him that he’d received a call from the FBI asking some questions about him, Emmett’s heart stopped then and there and he was absolutely positive he’d seen the moment his head was severed from his neck, rolling down the hallway.

Twenty long seconds later, when his senses had returned to him, he learned that the sensation was just dizziness and he was still firmly intact.

Three weeks later, the hell had ended. To say his official acceptance onto the project was a weight off his shoulders would be an understatement. Emmett breathed a long sigh of relief, nearly giddy with the excitement that he’d come through the process relatively unscathed; his frayed nerves were the only real casualty of his stint in purgatory.

Why the outcome should have been anything other than this, he couldn’t say, but that didn’t stop his mind, already having latched onto the mystery and thrilling scientific intrigue that Oppenheimer had offered, from conjuring up the what-if possibilities while unseen hands manipulated the course of his life. He’d never been in legal trouble, no criminal record, his father was an incredibly prominent and well-respected, if feared and disliked, member of the community, and his academic achievements had been exceptional.

But now it was official and the part that should have been the most daunting brought him the most joy. Two months was more than enough time to wrap up his affairs in California nicely.

His courses at the university would be discontinued and his students would be disseminated out into the other professors’ courses. The small home he’d been provided here would go back to the university and whatever he deemed unimportant to take with him to New Mexico would be discarded. The head of the department wished him well, and after a brief exchange steeped in rumour and hearsay, he’d left, returning home to pack up the last of his things.

How fascinating that an entire life could be stuffed in a couple travel bags.

—

When Emmett returns to Hill Valley, tugging the last twenty-three years of his life up the pathway to the mansion he hadn’t seen in almost five years, it is his mother’s joyful cries that greet him, her hands that all but pull him through the door, and her voice that fills the living room as she sits down, harmonising with the song of time played by his favourite Grandfather Clock.

Emmett, the doctor. Emmett, the scientist. Emmett, her son, doing his part for his country, whatever that meant, because it was secret, secret, secret—all so very secret all he could say was “I can’t talk about it but I have to travel to get there”—and while she looked ten years younger, radiant with motherly pride, his father scoffed and harrumphed, making his opinion known in no uncertain terms.

You would’ve done better for the war as a soldier, not some damned-fool scientist.

‘But at least maybe you’ll have a chance to be useful. Do something good.’

This time, his father’s barbs do not sting. They strike at him from all angles, jabbing at his skin but never piercing, and he lets them fall to the ground at his feet, unwilling to have this argument again, as they did for so many long nights in his youth. With the prospect of unforetold scientific progress right there at his fingertips, he could find it in himself to forgive his father without a fight. He didn’t understand. He wouldn’t let him spoil this.

Science—science was the future. And they would see.

His departure comes as quick as his arrival, his mother asking when he thinks he’ll be back in California.

“Soon,” he says, unable to give her any definite number, pulling at the hope this project is supposed to bring. “When we’ve won the war.”

Alone, he arranges to have himself and his entire life brought to San Francisco, where he’ll meet the train that carries him to the future.

—

San Francisco to Santa Fe.

Emmett spends most of his time in comfortable silence, watching the touches of humanity upon the land slowly and slowly being stripped away. Pavement gives way to dirt and grass and unsullied earth and the towering buildings of the cities sprout leaves and stretch up to the heavens, basking in the afternoon sunlight.

He remembers the itinerary—cryptic instructions written on a packet of papers shoved into his hands and the explicit instructions to allow nobody else to see the contents of this folder. Emmett doesn’t think he could forget it if he tries, burning a hole in the inner pocket of his overcoat, searing his chest even through his clothes.

More often than not, he tries to imagine the stage that will hold what is supposed to be the greatest scientific advancements of the last three centuries—what we’ll be doing here will be the culmination of the last three centuries of physics. Don’t you want to be a part of that?—I want to take on this challenge—only to imagine something even more fantastical than its predecessor every time he tries.

A fully functioning laboratory and city do not just spring up overnight in the middle of the desert, but Oppenheimer had said it would be ready in time, and Emmett found himself almost immediately assured by that, half-convinced that Nature itself would bend to that man’s charm.

Perhaps, Emmett thinks, a flutter in his stomach equal parts dread and excitement, it just might.

What else would require some of the greatest scientific minds to gather in one remote location under the strictest security imaginable?

The possibilities lull him into a dream-filled sleep.

—

They’re waiting for him there, just as they said. Two large uniformed escorts that Emmett easily has several inches on tower over him, usher him into an ordinary old car—grey, unassuming, rather mundane, actually, but when discretion is key—and expertly fit an entire life into the boot.

As if they’ve done this before.

Clement and Rosario, Lieutenant-Commander and Lieutenant, respectively, as he’s come to learn from the intermittent conversation, were the ones assigned to bring him to the site, get him through security, and make sure everything went off without a hitch.

Emmett watches, his face all but pressed against the window in the back as the landscape overrides the thoughts about this project that have been playing on a loop since he first alighted the train back in California. The desert is beautiful, nothing like the views in the city, and maybe he views the wide open area through the tinted lenses of lingering boyish romanticism for such an environment, but there is a rough, rugged beauty to it all in reality that Emmett is pleased to know for himself is not just a result of the films.

He must have said that out loud, because the younger of the two—or the one Emmett assumes is younger, given the softness still present on his face that looks out of place with the gun strapped to his hip—Rosario, says, “Yeah, isn’t it? Beautiful place out here. Shame we went and ruined it.” Before Emmett can ask what that means, he just says, “You’ll see.”

He does see, almost immediately.

This complex—‘Welcome home, Doc,’ Clement jokes in that gruff voice of his—looks more like a prison dropped in the most remote location they could think of, where they’ll work and torture them until they get what they want or die trying. That fence must be ten feet high, topped with barbed wire, and Emmett wonders how many scientists they know of that are athletic enough to even attempt scaling a wall like that.

They preferred to scale theoretical hurdles, not physical.

The cold feeling of dread slithers up his spine. He dismisses it the moment they reach the security checkpoint, telling himself he’s being foolish—the military is involved; everything with them is cloak-and-dagger.

Processing takes an eternity, and Emmett feels a rush of dizziness he can’t quite explain when a thick set of papers are pressed into his hand, followed by a white identification badge that has immortalised his awkwardness in a frozen snapshot of time.

“Housing information’s on the first page. You’ll get used to the layout. Keep that badge with you at all times, Doctor Brown.”

#mcflyjuly #mcfly july 2024 #back to the future #bttf #NATURALLY I HAD TO GO '40S DOC CONTENT MY BELOVED #but not the usual doom and gloom and i decided to do this one in a style different than i usually do #some snapshots of that time starting from his involvement to actually arriving at the hill #because it's so fascinating to me - here's this young twenty-something year old about to sequester himself in the desert #to work on the most important project in history under the military and an incredibly brilliant man #SO I JUST NEEDED TO WRITE IT LIKE THIS #and i wanted to keep writing and i wanted to write all the in-between but #this one is already so long - my longest yet #anyway HERE WE ARE #if doc gets to be in that photo with the main project heads in the delorean owners manual he gets a white id badge and that's just that #also a parallel that i personally adore and that's assuming i remember this correctly #that oppenheimer got his doctorate around twenty-three and i tend to take 1920 as doc's birth year and so that means #that they got their doctorates at the same age and one became the father of the atomic bomb and the other becomes the father of #time-travel . JUST A NEAT THING TO ME IDK LET ME LIVE #as always I didn't proofread a damn thing so it is what it is

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