#he travels all the damn time

[quantumshade]

my problem with dhawan!master coming after gomez!master isn’t that it goes back on her character arc. it’s that it goes back on her character arc with no explanation. it would be one thing if the show acknowledged all their years together in the vault but expressed that the master backslid hard after series ten. but it doesn’t. it makes no reference to that whatsoever, and that’s why i like to read it as dhawan being pre-missy. because chibnall makes no effort to connect his era to the last, it just becomes so narratively unsatisfying to longtime fans of the show. there is one reference to the events of twelve era in all of thirteen era, and it’s in an episode not written by chibnall. I don’t trust that the man even read a plot synopsis of the twelve era, much less watched it. so it’s more fun to me, as someone who cares about consistency and emotional continuity, to read missy coming after the events of thirteen’s era.

[hauntingblue]

ARCANE EPISODE 7!!!!

MY GOD I WASNT READY FOR ANY OF THIS!!! WHAT WAS THAT!!!

Also ekko wallpaper I got with my fries lmao

[doctorbrown]

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.”

[youve-doomed-us-all-jerk]

official crossover, they truly be doin anything with tmnt and we love them for that lmfao also idc about breaking canon give raph a susanoo on this, it was foretold in rottmnt

[wonder-worker]

"Among their complaints [in 1460, the Yorkists] specifically blamed the earls of Wiltshire and Shrewsbury and Viscount Beaumont for ‘stirring’ the king [Henry VI] to hold a parliament at Coventry that would attaint them and for keeping them from the king’s presence and likely mercy, asserting that this was done against [the king's] will. To this they added the charge that these evil counselors were also tyrannizing other true men* without the king’s knowledge. Such claims of malfeasance obliquely raised the question of Henry’s fitness as a king, for how could he be deemed competent if such things happened without his knowledge and against his wishes? They also tied in rumors circulating somewhat earlier in the southern counties and likely to have originated in Calais that Henry was really ‘good and gracious Lord to the [Yorkists] since, it was alleged, he had not known of or assented to their attainders. On 11 June the king was compelled to issue a proclamation stating that they were indeed traitors and that assertions to the contrary were to be ignored." - Helen Maurer, "Margaret of Anjou: "Queenship and Power in Late Medieval England"

Three things that we can surmise from this:

We know where the "Henry was an innocent helpless king being controlled and manipulated by his Evil™ advisors" rhetoric came from**.

The Yorkists were deliberately trying to downplay Henry VI's actual role and involvement in politics and the Wars of the Roses. They cast him as a "statue of a king", blamed all royal policies and decisions on others*** (claiming that Henry wasn't even aware of them), and framed themselves as righteous and misunderstood counselors who remained loyal to the crown. We should keep this in mind when we look at chronicles' comments of Henry's alleged passivity and the so-called "role reversal" between him and Queen Margaret.

Henry VI's actual agency and involvement is nevertheless proven by his own actions. We know what he thought of the Yorkists, and we know he took the effort to publicly counter their claims through a proclamation of his own. That speaks louder than the politically motivated narrative of his enemies, don't you think?

*There was some truth to these criticisms. For example, Wiltshire (ie: one of the men named in the pamphlet) was reportedly involved in a horrible situation in June which included hangings and imprisonments for tax resistance in Newbury. The best propagandists always contain a degree of truth, etc. **I've seen some theories on why Margaret of Anjou wasn't mentioned in these pamphlets alongside the others even though she was clearly being vilified during that time as well, and honestly, I think those speculations are mostly unnecessary. Margaret was absent because it was regarded as very unseemly to target queens in such an officially public manner. We see a similar situation a decade later: Elizabeth Woodville was vilified and her whole family - popularly and administratively known as "the queen's kin" - was disparaged in Warwick and Clarence's pamphlets. This would have inevitably associated her with their official complaints far more than Margaret had been, but she was also not directly mentioned. It was simply not considered appropriate. ***This narrative was begun by the Duke of York & Warwick and was - demonstrably - already widespread by the end of 1460. When Edward IV came to power, there seems to have been a slight shift in how he spoke of Henry (he referred to Henry as their "great enemy and adversary"; his envoys were clearly willing to acknowledge Henry's role in Lancastrian resistance to Yorkist rule; etc), but he nevertheless continued the former narrative for the most part. I think this was because 1) it was already well-established and widespread by his father, and 2) downplaying Henry's authority would have served to emphasize Edward's own kingship, which was probably advantageous for a usurper whose deposed rival was still alive and out of reach. In some sense, the Lancastrians did the same thing with their own propaganda across the 1460s, which was clearly not as effective in terms of garnering support and is too long to get into right now, but was still very relevant when it came to emphasizing their own right to the throne while disparaging the Yorkists' claim.

[gentrychild]

Hi! In Anyone, I'm curious about this: how would it be if AFO and AM never had their final battle? Because I refuse to believe Izuku wouldn't get into a bigger mess now that he has money. Money can solve any problem; if it doesn't it only means you probably don't have enough money. AFO is probably richer than God. Which means Izuku much be unstoppable.

That and I think it would be Funny to see a Stephanie Brown&Clue Master dynamic

You will be disappointed but honestly, you would have the BNHA canon.

Anyone was first defined as a story showing what would happen if Izuku was never chosen by All Might. That's the base on which the story stands.

But the truth is that under this base stands four wooden legs, three of which are broken, which are AFO being sent sooner to Tartarus. Izuku couldn't become Anyone if he didn't have the time and the freedom to invest a fuck ton of time and energy into Anyone. For that to happen, you need Inko to be gone. And AFO's leaving and the money problems it created is the reason why Inko is abroad.

[shirogane-oushirou]

💋💋💋

[blujayonthewing]

idri's thieves' tools were inherited from her mentor; they're big and clunky in her hands and she'd maybe be better served with finer, lighter tools, but these are the ones she learned with, and she wouldn't give them up for anything

elyss's are a bespoke matched steel toolset made for her by her blacksmith friend and the party's former fighter; she asked him to make them, but she treasures them like a gift nonetheless

melliwyk's are personally handcrafted and bundled together into one fold-out multitool doohickey, stylized as an insect with various tools for its antennae and legs

felix's are a hodgepodge, obviously accumulated and/or replaced one piece at a time across a wide timespan and from completely different sources, bundled together with his other hand tools in a worn but well-tended leather case embossed with a raccoon motif

[unsteady-calcium]

My Breath of the Wild Slow Livin' challenge is in its third iteration and let me tell you it is the only way to play this game

[inundatae]

I do think a lot about how a creature that's 500 years old can remain so stagnant for centuries. That it takes until now for Neuvillette to start... slowly developing some personal growth. Not quite there, but taking those small steps towards something.

Simply to me, five hundred years is a very, very long time for someone to remain the same. But it's hard for me to grasp the idea that for an immortal being that their concept of time is different. Perhaps five hundred years passes in a blink of an eye to him. And Neuvillette is very much a creature of habit. If he refuses to allow himself to form personal attachment, rarely travels beyond his home and his work, then where would the opportunities be for him to change?

And honestly, it's so interesting to think of the brief glimpses of Neuvillette in the flashbacks, who is a lot more... open with his emotions. And it's seemingly the one and only time he's openly called someone a friend. Losing Carole, having to sit there and preside over Vautrin's hearing and then personally having to send him to prison, having the last words he hears of the person closest to him be full of hate. He's been paralyzed for so long and had no one. And to think of all the other acquaintances that he might have been friendly with too, his staff and such who slowly over time began to disappear from his life due to natural consequences. No wonder the only people he keeps close ties with are fellow immortal beings as well.

[flowercrowngods]

Oh, I see. Crying throwing up. Crying throwing up while it's hot. Hot on my floor and time travel steve hurts. Hurts in the best way where you understand. Thank you for sharing him.

*screeching goblin noises*

[mekatrio]

naw that final trial was Weird was there seriously only one cross-examination in that whole thing HUHHHH. strange strange rushed writing towards the end BUT WELL i liked this game anyways!!! 💥💥💥💥

[arolesbianism]

Every day I mourn the fact that none of my family and friends give a single shit abt oni lore, I don't wanna keep repeating shit I've already said before on here but every now and then I just remember the horrors™ and nearly explode not being able to scream abt it again

[the-scungles-of-crungles]

This is "The Doctor", a resident of the nightmare realm, who has been there long enough to have been almost completely corrupted. His face is normally just a pitch black void hole but sometimes you can see eyes and/or teeth in there

He wants to help people, but he's almost completely lost his mind, and can sometimes act a bit... Feral.

Surprisingly, the nightmare realm's usual effect of making people lose every memory of their life before they ended up here, hasn't managed to take away his medical knowledge. He's still very smart, despite everything.

Unfortunately he seems to scare off most people who he would otherwise have helped...

[dutybcrne]

What is it with Diluc and sabotaging Kae's rizz kjdbfgg

[paisleywraith]

The King and his guards.