#why can't we wake him up?

[redroomroaving]

RED ALERT RED ALERT - NPCS we need to talk about

Let's talk about: Dairow Vin

("who is Dairow Vin, you ask?" he's the unconcious tiefling you can find in the sewers in an unbreakable sleep, who has lost his husband - almost certainly one of the refugees that died on the road, and has an offer from the Thieves Guild to join them.)

He's also, having pulled him out of the sewers, Goth Sleeping Beauty Tragic Gay Rolan.

(imagine though - he's found and brought to the only place they can think of with the resources to lift a magical sleep - and Rolan's suddenly staring a man that looks just like himself. Huuuuh.)

[mintypsii]

early bird activities

[doctorbrown]

DOCTOBER '24 ⸺ 「 1 / 31 * RED-LETTER DATE 」

“Hey Doc? I wanna ask you something.” 

Emmett doesn’t pop his head through the doorway to acknowledge his friend, too focused on topping off one of the mugs of hot chocolate with a generous helping of marshmallows, but he does shout, “Of course, Marty,” into the air. “You know you don’t have to ask. Let me bring Verne his cup and then you’ll have my undivided attention.”

Marty makes a vague noise that many years of friendship has taught Emmett means sure thing, Doc, and it takes him barely three minutes to drop off the hot chocolate to Verne, who smiled like it was Christmas morning when he saw the mountain of marshmallows floating at the top, and join Marty in the living room, carrying the tray with their own drinks. He passes one of them off to Marty who accepts with a smile and a nod and then takes a seat opposite him, fixing him with an expectant look.

“So, what did you want to ask me?”

Marty’s eyes immediately drift to the shelf, where Emmett and Clara’s small assortment of family photos sit, arranged in elegant wooden frames. In the centre is a black and white photo that has started to yellow around the edges, looking paradoxically fragile and yet able to withstand even the most rigorous tests of time, holding onto that frozen memory for all eternity. Emmett turns his head to follow Marty’s attention, his eyes alighting on the single photo he expects will be the topic of their conversation.

Ah. Out of all of them, there is only one Marty was never able to be present for.

For once, Emmett manages to look perfectly natural in a photograph, even dressed to the nines in a sharp suit. His smile stretches from ear-to-ear, making him look at least ten years younger, and though his face is angled away from the camera, his eyes are bright and alive, brimming with love and warmth. Marty could even imagine the photographer trying to get Emmett’s attention, demanding he look at him for the photo, only for every single word to go in one ear and straight out the other when Clara was standing beside him, smiling, the picture of radiance as she regards her husband with the same fond warmth. Her wedding dress was no more intricate than any of the outfits Marty had seen her wear during his few days in the Nineteenth Century, yet it seemed to be made for her and her alone, perfectly tailored and somehow able to put even the outfits of royalty to shame.

If Clara was the sun, Emmett was the moon that revolved around her. In that single moment, forever frozen in time, they were the only two people on Earth. 

“I had been wanting to ask for a while, but–”

“No, no, of course. You didn’t get the chance to see it, and I’m sorry for that, so I’d be happy to fill you in on the details.”

Marty curls his fingers around the warm mug, shuffling somewhat in his seat, and Emmett waits patiently, noting each one of Marty’s nervous habits as they arise. There are a hundred and one things Marty wants to say, Emmett can see them written across his body, written into every small movement, and, equal and opposite, there are a thousand things Emmett wants to say in return, things he makes an effort to hold back until Marty speaks first.

“I’m happy for you two, Doc–really, I am. Clara’s–well, Clara’s amazing. And I’ve never seen you so happy before. I was afraid that–” Marty shakes his head, his eyes focused on the photographs. “When I first saw the picture, I was…” He forces a laugh, but there’s no humour in it and Emmett would know that self-depreciatory tone anywhere. 

“It’s stupid, I know. I didn’t realise it at first, but I was jealous. Can you believe that, Doc? My best friend is happy, he’s got a family for Christ’s sake, and I was too busy at first being afraid that now you’re–you’re just gonna forget me because you’ve got Clara and the boys and the house and there wouldn’t be a place for me.”

Emmett’s eyes widen despite knowing the blow was coming and before he can open his mouth, allow the words that have been building up on his tongue to break free, Marty shakes his head and continues, reinforcing the wall and keeping the words at bay just a little longer.

“I know what you’re gonna say, Doc. I already said I know it’s stupid but I couldn’t help feeling that way. And I should have asked you about your wedding and everything a lot longer ago but I-I just couldn’t. And that’s fucking stupid, right? I want to know because I couldn’t be there for you and you’ve always been there for me.”

Marty’s words are a blade driven straight through his chest, each word twisting that razor-sharp blade a little more. He can’t help the pang of guilt he feels echoing in his ribcage, scraping against the bars of a prison he will not allow it to escape from, not now. This conversation was a long time coming–he’d almost expected it sooner rather than later, but he knew better than to push, knowing Marty would open up when he was ready–but no amount of anticipation could have prepared him for the blow that hearing it put to words would strike.

The Time Machine’s destruction had not been an accident. Everything had been carefully orchestrated to prevent any further corruption of the timestream, to spare himself the temptation–the broken heart–of trying to go back against all rational, scientific thought.

Ultimately, Marty couldn’t stay in the Nineteenth Century, not if he wanted to live a normal life, not if he wanted to be happy. And he couldn’t allow Marty to become another unsolved disappearance, leaving the McFlys to wonder and agonise over their youngest son who vanished from the face of the Earth without a trace.

Emmett may not have planned to stay, but even he couldn’t predict Clara’s intervention. 

Life had to go on, even under extreme or difficult circumstances. There was only one choice available, then.

Still, Emmett doesn’t hesitate.

“Marty, I could never forget you. Whether we’re in the same time period or separated across the timestream, you will always be my best friend. And I will never stop caring about you. I know things have been busy lately, both for you and for me, what with your college courses and the boys’ schooling and Clara’s acclimation to the Twentieth Century and making the necessary repairs on the house–” Emmett stops himself before he runs off the entire list of seemingly infinitely-growing projects on his list. 

“The point is, nothing is going to change that. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel neglected or unwanted at any point, because that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Marty nods, finally pulling his eyes away from the photo to take a good long look at his best friend. 

“I know, Doc. God, I know. You must think I’m an asshole.” 

“You’re not an asshole. Far from it.”

Marty actually smiles at that, swirling his hot chocolate carefully in the cup. “So… You’ll still tell me about your wedding day?”

“Of course I will, Marty.” Emmett pauses for a moment, a thoughtful expression working its way over his face. Then, he smiles, almost conspiratorially as he recalls something of particular note. “The minister certainly wasn’t pleased when we changed until death do us part to something a little more fitting–until the end of time—”

@bttfdoctober

[cryolyst]

~

[sleepinginmygrave]

hkkjhhhh i really hate my dad

[torgawl]

can i can i kiss the palm of your hand sir

[euclydya]

*shakes curly awake* PLEAZE WAKE UP AND FRONT JIMMY IS DRIVING ME INSANER

[nobodysdaydreams]

Wait hold up I just noticed something about Curtain right before he gets kidnapped!

I was re-watching the flower delivery scene in Mysterious Benedict Society (because it's funny), and I realized something about the scene where Curtain is talking to himself in the mirror. At first I assumed he was practicing his speeches in the mirror again (like in season 1, because he’s a dork), but the happiness technique has worked pretty well so far so practice doesn't seem necessary. Then he starts getting frustrated, ok, so maybe the stuff about the freezing effect is really getting to him and he can't focus. Maybe he's actually worried about what he's done to SQ or Nicholas, he does seem to be slipping a lot, he really freaked out on Jackson and Jillson and didn't do much about Nicholas' questions and obvious suspicions other than blow him off.

Then I thought about what he was saying to his reflection: "It's not just for everyone else. You too can opt into joy and good feeling. You too can choose happiness. Use a joyful lens." And he gets progressively frustrated and keeps muttering "choose happiness" at his reflection. Was Curtain trying to use the happiness technique on himself before the society took him? Did he figure it was too late to correct his mistakes so he might as well make the pain go away? I'm just wondering how dark they are gonna go with this.

[palesoftangel]

my heart is about to stop

[borgeslabyrinth]

I will say it was extremely funny how my boss and I just had a conversation about how much we've been working on our temper and just letting things go. And how neither of us had lost our temper in two years.... and then both of us blew up over the exact same thing like. Minutes apart. We fail together 🫶

[watch-out-it-bites]

I believe I deserve a sweet little treat [He has done nothing important for the past week]

[ashorterurl]

.

[born-to-lose]

Missing people and regretting shit o'clock

[elytrafemme]

i'm starting to wonder if therapy is going to be productive because no matter what happens i'm probably going to experience this every night of my fucking life

[unnecessarilygrandiose]

i have this fic idea but i haven't written anything creatively in EIGHTEEN MONTHS and i am afraid i forgor how to write

[sevenseasaurus]

so do the rest of you guys just simplify your dreams when explaining them to people or do I just remember a significantly weirder degree of depth than the average bear