Ectoberhaunt 2024: Day 1 - Past, Present, & Future
Summary: Clockwork had never expected to find themself turning to Pariah for answers. But this was a matter meant for Ancient powers and Pariah was the oldest Power of them all.
Content Warnings: Minor Character Death/Murder, Migraines, Passing Out
They’d never been fond of the Sarcophagus, the hinges and carrys meant to hold back Time staring back at them tauntingly. Now those same grips were struggling to keep Power contained.
Pressing a hand against the prison, Clockwork closed their eyes and concentrated. Entering Power’s domain was never easy. A slimy sensation washed over Clockwork as they disentangled themselves from time, the process just as painful now as it had always been. Blinking back the oncoming headache Clockwork could finally open their eyes and look into the landscape of the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.
It was vast, the wide open night sky casting little light on the soft rolling hills that decorated the area. In the distance they could see Pariah, leaning against one of the few trees present. Floating slowly Clockwork carefully approached their fellow Ancient, stopping a few feet from the lounging ghost and taking in his missing armor and lax demeanor. Pariah had yet to move, eyes closed as he rested against the thick trunk of his tree with fern like leaves reaching to nearly the ground he sat on.
Clockwork hesitated, form shifting nervously as they considered returning to the Long Now and forgetting this ridiculous endeavor. Then the biting cold behind their eyes returned and desperation began to claw in their throat.
No.
They had to be here.
“Come to taunt me Timekeeper?” Pariah lazily opened his eye, turning his head to look at Clockwork’s flickering frame in annoyance. If the time ghost had come here simply to annoy him with cryptic messages Pariah would send him away immediately. He had no need for that in his current imprisonment.
He waited for the other to speak. Surly Clockwork had come to him for a reason and not simply to stand around in these barren hills? After a time his patience grew thin with the useless silence, the constant ticking of Clockwork’s core the only noise to accompany them. Just as he thought to push the ghost out of his prison Clockwork spoke.
“What was it like?” Their voice was a whisper, leaving behind the base of their official form and shifting to something smaller, younger.
“What?” Pariah was shocked, seeing his sibling’s true form like this. When was the last time he or any of his siblings had shown what they truly looked like? In this form Clockwork truly did look like the youngest of the Ancients, softly curling white hair falling into their face and covering the gory remnants of their left eye. They shuffled, gingerly sitting down next to Pariah and adjusting their staff in their curled lap.
“When you killed the Ens Entium what was it like?” Clockwork ignored the sharp intake of breath from beside them, keeping their gaze down at the pale gray grass beneath them. “I remember feeling the shockwave at my birth but I was not there to witness it.”
“What is your goal here Timekeeper?” Pariah was certain this must be a trick of some kind. He had lost any trust from his siblings long ago, Clockwork would never show him such a vulnerable form. But there was his youngest sibling, face still clinging to the last bits of baby fat and red eyes round and innocent as Pariah remembered. Those same eyes were wide with a terrible fear now, a haunted look in them as Clockwork avoided eye contact with their older brother.
“Please-” Clockwork felt their chest catch, a terrified chime ringing out from their core as they looked desperately at Pariah. “Tell me what it was like.”
Pariah sighed. He may have his doubts about why Clockwork had come to him now but he knew his sibling was genuine in their curiosity. Scooting closer to the young ghost Pariah stared out into the sprawling sky above them.
“You were not born yet, none of the others were. Only the Entium and I existed at the beginning. They were powerful, more powerful than me and vast beyond comprehension. It was… inspiring to be in their presence.” Pariah paused, looking briefly at Clockwork to ensure the other was listening. Clockwork had yet to look up from where they had shifted attention to their lap but the time ghost was clearly paying attention. He supposed that would be enough. “But you know what I am, Power must take and Ens Entium was all that was available to consume.”
He remembered those early days, trapped in an expanding darkness with nothing to latch onto. The Entium had been boundless and Pariah had felt his own domain quiver against the might of the First Ancient. That had been his first taste of Power and it wasn’t his own. It had felt like a mockery at the time, that another had overshadowed him in his own domain when Pariah had only just come into existence.
It had enraged him.
“I had hoped to eat them, consume that power for my own. But I was not strong enough to contain such energy and neither were any of you.” When he had killed his first sibling Pariah had never expected such a backlash. His strike against Entium, drawing the first blood ever to be spilled, shook the very foundation of reality. He had hoped to strike their core, to rip it from his sibling and eat that Power. Instead he was met with the howl of the universe as Entium churned and clawed, finally taking shape after an eternity of darkness. It made him afraid and Pariah’s fear and hope for power had birthed his first sibling, Nocturne crawling from the remnants of Ens Entium’s now shattered form. Together they watched the burning of their sibling, Entium shattering further and their power spreading across the universe. It was that churning that brought about another sibling, Clockwork wailing in the blood of the Entium as the first moment of Time began.
“Entium broke and I stabbed into their core and took 2 shards for myself. You all gathered your own pieces and the others scattered.” Pariah looked carefully at his hand, where the Ring of Rage would have been. He’d fashioned his shards of Ens Entium’s shattered core into items of power, items that would make his control of the emerging space left behind by the death of the first ancient much easier.
“I… recall.” Clockwork clutched their timestaff close, their own shard of Ens Entium’s shattered core housed inside the item. It had felt like a gift at the time, something to know their sibling by.
“Then why do ask me this Clockwork? Must we rehash old wounds?” Pariah sighed, mind returning to the present as he looked at his sibling. “Or have you come to your senses finally? Do you all understand what a danger Ens Entium is now and why we must rule with an iron fist?”
He was getting angry, he knew that. Why had Clockwork opened this scar? The death of their sibling had been necessary but it had painted Pariah as little more than a hungry monster in the eyes of the other Ancients. Nocturne and Clockwork understood to some extent why he had done it, the three of them bearing identical scars from the Entium’s death echo, but they still hadn’t lived under the Entium’s weight for that endless amount of time. The newer Ancients had always looked upon him warily, knowing him as nothing more than the Tyrant King who killed Space. And Clockwork had brought that all rushing back to the surface and Pariah wanted to scream.
“Did it hurt?” Clockwork nearly sobbed, finally turning their gaze to Pariah and it was desperate, like a cornered animal that knew it could not hope to win the upcoming fight. Pariah softened immediately, always holding a soft spot for the one sibling who had trusted him implicitly.
“Immensely.” It had burned to kill Ens Entium. But he would accept that burning again if necessary. That had to be the reason Clockwork was here, rehashing such old wounds. Ens Entium had returned. “You must let me free to deal with Ens Entium once more.”
Clockwork shook their head fervently, wounded sound leaving them as the frost behind their eyes began to creep in once more.
“They are still scattered.” Clockwork shuddered, a chill sweeping through them. They reached for Pariah’s hand, turning it over and calming at the warmth that radiated from their brother. It was enough to push back the chill in their core and push out the real reason they had come here. “Daniel’s coronation was today, the first halfa to take the throne.”
“No.” Pariah could feel his core thrum in his ears. He must have misheard. He must have.
They didn’t put a halfa on the throne.
“Ens Entium and Ens Reale, two made one. I saw it, in a vision from outside of my sight.” Shame colored Clockwork’s face as they looked at their brother. They knew what Pariah must think of them, of their choice to back the half-breed that none of them could see properly. They had been optimistic that such clouded sight meant Daniel was destined for great things, things far greater than even Clockwork could know. But Pariah had seen something different, saw a depth that none of the other Ancients had taken seriously. Surely Pariah was paranoid, still traumatized by the mark Ens Entium left behind.
Now they would pay the cost for their foolishness.
“We cannot hope to stop this.” Clockwork leaned against Pariah, taking some comfort in their brother’s presence for the first time in centuries.
“You may not, but I will not sit idly by and let your foolish decisions jeopardize us all! Your faction has made their choice and this is the result. It is time I took action.” Pariah spoke with authority, form shifting into the one he had worn nearly an eternity ago in the darkness. The form of Power, more concept than king and exuding a level of control that ensured something would happen.
“I’m sorry to have asked this of you.” Clockwork felt a final chime echo from their core before they were back in Pariah’s Keep and out of the Sarcophagus. They had awoken a beast, a second one that could hopefully deal with the first beast they had created. For as much as they loved Daniel the universe could not handle Ens Entium and Ens Reale existing at the same time. Daniel’s ascension had already begun but Pariah may be able to do something about it.
For ill or for gain Power would strike again.
-----
Vlad absolutely hated being in the office during the fourth quarter of the year. There was always a rush of paperwork, purchases, approvals, and meeting that should have been emails. He could feel the migraine that had been building all morning finally catch up with him and wanted to scream bloody murder. It wasn’t even lunch yet.
Pressure spread across his forehead and Vlad groaned, leaning back into his chair and ignoring the concerned look his secretary sent him. The pain in his head had spiked suddenly, going from a painful if not uncommon migraine to searing heat behind his eyes in a blink. His vision blurred, a warm haze spreading across his sight and too late Vlad realized this was no normal migraine as his core spiked alongside his head.
Weakly he tried to push himself up only to feel his limbs give out beneath him.
Something was very wrong.
He could hear his secretary, Olivia, saying something just out range but he was too tired to make it out. He was melting practically and his vision going from fuzzy to spotted black quickly.
Before he passed out entirely he heard a familiar voice speak, far clearer than the muffled sounds around him.
Summary: Daniel Benton had been raised to keep to himself and his own business. Of course that never stopped him from sticking his nose into places it didn't belong. But seeing the way the blacksmith Brown and that newcomer looked into each other's eyes was enough to make even him turn his head.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/54576379
Daniel Benton would always remember the lessons his mother had tried to impart on him as a child. His Ma had taught him not to pry into business that wasn't his and to never make assumptions about people he didn't know. All of those lessons flew out of his head as he stood on the blacksmith's doorstep. He'd heard about what happened over at Chester's and when Ms. Harding had caught his attention to look over that newcomer he was slightly ashamed at how quickly he agreed. You could hardly blame him. The blacksmith was such a recluse and no one knew much about the man. He'd rolled into town one day severely burnt up and looking for a place to stay. He never gave his story but Daniel remembered tending to the man's wounds on that first night the blacksmith was here, remembered the massive lightning scars along his back and the scrapes and cuts on his arms and legs with metal sticking out of them. Mr. Brown was a mystery and Daniel hoped to at least get some information about his past today.
He knocked firmly, standing on the doorstep of the smithy. The windows were caked with years of dirt and mud so he couldn't see inside the building but he could hear the blacksmith as he got closer to the door. The door yanked open and Dr. Benton blinked as the blacksmith's face calmed down from the wash of frustration it had been just a moment ago. He wondered if he wasn't the first to bother the man today.
"Doctor Benton." The blacksmith spoke and Daniel startled only slightly. The man seemed surprised and confused to see him and Daniel blinked in surprise. Someone had been hung, even if Ms. Harding hadn't gotten his attention Daniel would have come by to make sure that newcomer didn't die from his wounds. Did the blacksmith think him so heartless?
"Ms. Harding told me that new boy was here in need of medical assistance. Everyone's talkin' about what happened over at Chester's." Daniel smiled, briefly looking past the blacksmith and trying to see where that newcomer was in the smithy. He was genuinely worried about the newcomer in town, he hadn't seen the event but hearing that Tannen hung the poor boy even if for a moment was distressing. And getting a head start on the gossip that was sure to permeate the town wasn't too bad either.
Daniel watched the blacksmith huff, frown marring the man's face. Mr. Brown moved back to let Daniel enter the smithy, eyes darting back to a door in the back of the room. There were tarps everywhere, covering large objects that Daniel wanted nothing more than to peek under. But he was here to do a job and snooping was unbecoming. His Ma would have his head if she knew he was snooping around someone else's place.
"I helped him as best I could, gave him some cannabis and tried to cool the wounds. He's resting now." Mr. Brown led him to a backroom in the smithy, explaining the treatment he'd given the newcomer. Daniel was slightly impressed, rarely did any of the residents of Hill Valley know how to treat a wound. There was minimal care for small scrapes and wounds until Daniel had arrived and most major injuries were brought to the next town over for serious treatment.
Daniel stepped into the back room of the smithy, following just behind the blacksmith. It was a small bedroom with minimal furniture fit for one, maybe two in close quarters. There on the bed was that newcomer, he looked relaxed for someone who'd been hung only an hour ago. Daniel did his best not to balk at his clothing, focussing on providing proper first aid to the man in the bed. When he'd heard the butcher describe the newcomer he hadn't thought the other man was serious about the molly-boy outfit. But looking at the tasseled pink and yellow get up it was hard not to think of this newcomer as a molly-boy, especially with how soft his skin was under Daniel's examination. He could say that he'd met his fair share of less rugged men when he lived back east but this was a whole new level for Daniel. This boy hasn't seen a day's hard labor in his life! His teeth were clean and hands never used for the kind of work they did out here or even back east, this had to be a molly-boy much as Daniel tried to deny it.
Momentarily Daniel let himself wonder at the relationship between the blacksmith and this newcomer. Some new boy dressed like a dandy came rolling into town looking for the blacksmith, pretty smile on his face and no knowledge of the west. He'd heard from some who were at Chester's that the boy'd come here from just a letter the blacksmith sent. He didn't know too many people who came runnin' out west due to one letter for any reason.
Daniel relaxed as he focused back on his patient. The blacksmith had done some good work on the boy, there were some unavoidable lumps that would go down with time but they weren't nearly as angry red as they would be without treatment. No signs of a concussion or any rope burns and he was breathing easily.
“This is good work blacksmith. You ever think of being a doctor?" Daniel stood, packing away the few items he'd removed from his medical bag. Honestly, he could use an extra pair of hands if Mr. Brown was willing. It was tiring to be the only medical man in town, especially with Tannen's men around demanding care from a shootout with the sheriff.
"I did some work back home when I was younger." The blacksmith started to fidget, eyes glancing back to the man on the bed every now and then. Daniel watched as a fond look passed over the blacksmith’s face, the man’s hand stretching towards the newcomer unconsciously.
"You could do some work now if you wanted. Lord knows we've got enough sick and injured people in this county, ‘specially with Tannen runnin' around shootin' and hangin' people." Daniel sighed, adjusting his vest as he stood next to the blacksmith. He could tell the man was barely listening, too focused on the newcomer lying in the bed to pay Daniel any attention. The blacksmith absently ran a hand thought the newcomer's hair and Daniel turned away to give the man some semblance of privacy. The two must be close, very close, and Daniel tried not to think of what they might get up to in this small room. After all, he knew very little about the blacksmith but he knew the man was escaping something. And being out west was the safest place for a relationship like the blacksmith and this newcomer seem to have.
“Hopefully the Sheriff will deal with him now.” The blacksmith gave Daniel a strained smile, a forced look of politeness on his face. But Daniel could see the anger burning inside the man, a fire behind his eyes as he spoke of Tannen. Briefly Daniel worried for Tannen’s safety, the blacksmith looked ready to kill. Daniel cleared his throat, hoping to snap the blacksmith out of his angry stupor.
"Well, your boy looks like he's going to be fine blacksmith. I recommend rest and maybe some cough drops if his throat is still hurting." Daniel smiled and made his way towards the door, hoping to get back to the butcher quickly. He'd always tried to keep himself above gossip but this was too much for him not to share. The blacksmith followed behind him, leading Daniel back towards the entrance.
"I'll be keeping an eye on him, Dr. Benton." The blacksmith held the entrance open for the doctor, an awkward smile on his face as he said his goodbyes to Daniel. The man was interesting if not clearly unused to company. Daniel made to say his farewell when a high and breathy moan interrupted them.
"Emmett..." That must have been the newcomer, moaning out what seemed to be the blacksmith's name by the way the man whipped around to face the sound. Daniel blushed, entirely sure now that he was right earlier. This was a molly-boy, maybe even more for the blacksmith, who had followed the man out west. He was glad the two had made it here relatively unharmed to enact their relationship but he'd rather not watch them go at it. He'd seen his fair share of handsy couples when one took ill and he was never a fan of watching the intimacy that followed.
"You be safe now Mr. Brown.” Daniel gave the blacksmith a knowing smile, stepping back and pulling the door shut with him.
Well, that had been informative. He needed to get to the butcher quick, he was sure the rumor mill was already turning what with Louisa Harding around but Daniel would be the first with accurate information. Plus the others were waiting for news on the newcomer's condition, Tannen had really done a number on the boy and everyone was worried.
Summary: Emmett stared at the picture of his gravestone in a detached sort of concern. Why was he destined to die in every timeline? Was this his fate? Constantly running from the universe trying to fix the mistake of his continued existence. He felt a hand wrap around his arm and looked into Marty's concerned eyes.
"Didn't want to lose you." Marty smiled up at Emmett, wanting that hunted look in the scientist's eyes to go away.
"I- thank you Marty. You still shouldn't have come here but thank you for worrying about me." Emmett pat Marty's hand that rested on his arm. Once more Marty had crossed time to ensure that Emmett Brown lived and he couldn't be more grateful.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/54576163
Emmett wasn't sure if Marty knew what kind of image he was presenting. He let his hand card through the teen's hair, keeping a close arm around Marty as they sat in his wagon. They were on their way back to the smithy, Tannen's men long behind them while the Sheriff dealt with those ruffians, and Marty had curled himself against Emmett's side. Now they were pressed against each other and he could see the butcher grinning at them from across the way. At this rate everyone in town would have some sort of opinion or gossip by tomorrow morning. Why had he dressed Marty in pink of all colors?
"Doc?" Marty coughed, hand unconsciously going to the rope burns on his throat and Emmett felt his blood near boiling again. He was going to kill Tannen when he got the chance.
"Hush Marty, you'll strain your voice further. I have some cold water back at the smithy." He scratched lightly at the back of the teen's head, knowing Marty was comforted by the touch. He had always been a very tactile young man.
"Course you'd find a way to make ice." Marty laughed, a dry cough following him as he turned to press his face into Emmett's chest. He whined and Emmett tightened his grip on the reins, feeling the leather digging into his palms.
They rode in silence for the rest of the way and after a few minutes found themselves in front of the smithy. Emmett hurried off of the carriage and helped Marty down before the teen could strain himself further. When Marty did little more than grumble and sway towards Emmett he was sure he'd need to look over the teen's wounds. He startled as a woman stepped out from one of the nearby doorways, her bright yellow church dress swaying slightly and grey hair tucked neatly into a bun.
"Blacksmith? That boy doing alright?" Emmett smiled weakly at the elderly woman that had stepped towards him and Marty. Louisa Harding was probably the worst gossip in town and she had more than enough free time to start spreading rumors. Emmett pulled Marty closer to his side, trying to back up into his smithy. If he could just get them inside he could tend to Marty without any distraction.
"He's just fine Louisa, had a run-in with Tannen over at Chester's. I'll be seeing to him for the night." Emmett unhitched his horse from the wagon, drawing the reins towards the horse shed attached to the smithy. He was both relieved and worried that Marty let him do the talking, he wouldn't have to worry about the teen saying anything that might give them away but Marty was never this quiet. Marty had just buried himself in Emmett's chest, hands gripping tightly at the scientist's shirt and keeping his face comfortably pressed into the crook of Emmett's neck.
"Oh I'm sure you'll be seeing to him. Just make sure he sees the doctor if he had a run-in with Tannen. There's been no medicine drop-off for weeks now." Louisa gave him a knowing look and Emmett did not feel the strength in him to try and decipher what she was saying. He hated the doublespeak that permeated conversation and much preferred the frankness of science and mathematics. With a nod and a tight smile he turned away from the woman, leading Marty into the smithy and hurrying to place the teen in bed. Marty went easily and Emmett did his best not to worry too much, instead turning towards his cabinets for clean water and any cannabis extract he had preserved.
"Doc?" Marty reached towards him and Emmett let a small real smile grace his face. He knew he should be upset that Marty had come back for him after he'd sent a letter expressly telling him not to but it was hard to feel angry when looking at his favorite person in the world. He was happy to see Marty despite the circumstances and he could never bring himself to stay mad at the teen for long. He gathered up his supplies quickly, plopping an ice cube into Marty's water and mixing in a bit of the preserved cannabis extract he'd found.
"Shhh, I'm right here Marty. Here drink this. I'd give you something stronger but I'd rather not hand you cocaine or opium." Emmett sat next to the teen, propping Marty up against him. He pressed a hand against the side of Marty's neck and sighed when he felt a few lumps forming. Luckily it didn't seem like Marty had a concussion but he was definitely suffering from the effects of asphyxiation and a case of mild hypoxia.
"Doc you- your letter-" Marty coughed, bits of water falling from his mouth as he tried to speak. Emmett gently rubbed at his back, taking the half empty glass from Marty's hand and setting it aside.
"Please don't try to speak Marty, let your throat heal. I know you missed me but my letter told you not to come here." Emmett couldn't help but think that Marty shouldn't be here, should have been at home with his family. Not injured and stranded in 1885 with a scientist who couldn't get him home. Emmett let his hand wander to the back of Marty's head, drawing the teen closer to him. Marty went easily, resting his head back on Emmett's chest.
"No, it- not the letter- you-" Marty coughed again, shoulders hunching as his lungs spasmed slightly. He needed to get this out, needed Emmett to know.
"Marty." Emmett sighed as Marty pushed himself to speak. The teen was going to permanently damage his throat at this rate.
"Look." Marty huffed, fumbling for the newspaper he had shoved in his pocket. He handed the paper over to Emmett, watching as the scientist read his own obituary.
"Great Scott." Emmett stared at the picture of his gravestone in a detached sort of concern. Why was he destined to die in every timeline? Was this his fate? Constantly running from the universe trying to fix the mistake of his continued existence? He felt a hand wrap around his arm and looked into Marty's concerned eyes.
"Didn't want to lose you." Marty smiled up at Emmett, wanting that hunted look in the scientist's eyes to go away. Doc looked so frightened.
"I- thank you Marty. You still shouldn't have come here but thank you for worrying about me." Emmett pat Marty's hand that rested on his arm. Once more Marty had crossed time to ensure that Emmett Brown lived and he couldn't be more grateful. Still, something bothered him. "And who's this beloved Clara? I don't know anyone named Clara."
"Your girl?" Marty shuffled slightly, trying to think if he'd seen anyone who looked particularly interested in Emmett around the town. Although he hadn't really paid much attention on the way back to the smithy, too happy to see Doc alive again and worried about his own health to pay much outward attention.
"I don't have a 'girl' Marty. That'd hardly be appropriate of me, I could ruin the very space-time continuum." Emmett sighed, absently patting Marty's hand. He was dreading this conversation. He'd honestly hoped he would never have to explain this part of himself. Marty was a kind and accepting young man but people could be cruel, even unknowingly, and Emmett wasn't sure if he could take Marty hating this aspect of him. But he had to be honest, especially now that they were trapped here in this time and people liked to talk. Steeling himself, Emmett looked away from Marty, unable to look at the teen while he confessed this. "Besides, I've never been one for... women."
"Doc?" Marty's head snapped up quickly and he winced, his hand flying to one of the swollen lumps on his neck. He must have misheard.
"I don't mean to alarm you Marty and I'm sorry to have kept it secret. But if we're both going to be stuck here, and people are going to talk with that show near Chester's, then you deserve to know the truth. I've dated women before but never felt a pull towards them, not like I've felt for those of the same sex. There was a young man in my youth that I loved and the usual collegiate experimenters but I never had much chance to explore a relationship with another man. And now that you're here people will talk and I want to make sure you're prepared. I've heard the same rumors all my life but that doesn't mean I want you to suffer Marty." Emmett sighed softly, tension keeping him stiff. He hadn't looked at Marty, too worried about the reaction he would receive for his confession. He couldn't stand to lose his closest friend.
Marty stared at Emmett's profile, watching the fear on the scientist's face. It stung a bit, to think that Emmett believed Marty wouldn't accept this part of him but he understood that fear all too well. He'd had the same fears confessing to Jen, so worried that she would hate him and no longer be his friend. He could give Doc the same comfort she gave him.
"Emmett, I like men too. Well, men and women." Marty curled his hand around Emmett's, keeping his gaze on their laps as he shared his secret with the scientist. It had been so comforting when Jen made him feel not alone and he wanted to share that comfort with Emmett. "Only Jen knows, she's- she's like you too. She likes other women."
"Marty-" Emmett sucked in a sharp breath, his gaze moving to finally look at Marty. The teen seemed nervous and Emmett almost laughed hysterically. They were the same it seemed, both pulled by the same and, for Marty, opposite sex. He wanted to laugh, or cry, he wasn't sure.
"We made a deal that we'd get married if the kind of marriage we wanted wasn't legal later. So she'd have some kind of cover for whatever woman she wanted." Marty continued on, not looking at Emmett as he spoke. He wanted to get this out, wanted to ensure that Emmett knew he wasn't alone. Blush spread across Marty's face as he clenched Emmett's hand. He might also be able to get his interest across now. "And I could be with whoever I wanted too."
"I'm glad, Marty, that you have such a close and caring friend. You saw what your future was like in 2015 and Jennifer was still there to support you." Emmett smiled gently, feeling warmth settle in him. He had been so worried that Marty would hate this side of him only to be delightfully proven wrong. His smile fell as Marty coughed again, shoulders shaking violently. The teen had pushed his vocal cords too far, speaking with those swollen lumps in his throat. Emmett stood, pressing Marty down onto the bed again. Marty resisted for a moment before relaxing on the bed, he did need to lay back. Every part of his body was still aching and lying down helped somewhat.
"Doc..." Marty reached out towards Emmett as the scientist stepped away from the bed. He didn't want to be too far from the man, worried slightly that Emmett might disappear again when he wasn't looking. Marty closed his eyes, doing his best to breathe softly as Emmett stepped away from him.
"You need rest Marty. I'll be here when you wake." Emmett ran a quick hand through Marty's hair one last time, smiling at the teen. He stepped away, moving out of the backroom to let Marty get some rest. He looked over some of the spare parts hidden under the large tarp he had found. If he had the resources he would be able to fix the Delorean and bring Marty home. But those delicate parts and harvested resources wouldn't be available for nearly a century.
Emmett startled as a knock sounded at the front of the smithy. He cursed himself for not putting up the closed sign. He didn't have the time or mental focus to work on some project right now, not while Marty was still sickly like he was. He hurried towards the front door, intent on turning away whoever was there. He opened the door, dismissal on his lips until he looked at who was standing there.
"Doctor Benton." Emmett blinked in surprise when he saw the town doctor on his doorstep, medical bag in hand. Dr. Daniel Benton rarely made house calls unless the situation was dire or he was personally requested. The doctor was in his mid-forties, hair greying at the temples but slicked back into a stylish east coast cut. He was in his work clothes, simple slacks and a mostly clean white button shirt and grey vest. Emmett stared at the man, trying to hold back his confusion. He hadn't thought Marty's situation was that dire. Doctor Benton seemed to sense his confusion and spoke easily.
"Ms. Harding told me that new boy was here in need of medical assistance. Everyone's talkin' about what happened over at Chester's." Dr. Benton smiled, eyes darting over Emmett's shoulder and he briefly worried that he'd left something out that shouldn't be seen.
Emmett huffed. Of course Ms. Harding would call the doctor to his home. He knew the woman meant well but he had the situation well under control. He wasn't overly fond of the medical practices of the time and didn't want to subject Marty to them. Still, he stepped back and let Dr. Benton into the smithy. He'd let the doctor look over Marty just to confirm that he was fine.
"I helped him as best I could, gave him some cannabis and tried to cool the wounds. He's resting now." Emmett led the doctor towards the back room Marty was resting in. Thankfully he'd covered his inventions and tinkers from sight earlier. He didn't want to try to explain the futuristic technology he had strewn about his workshop. He liked living here and keeping some sense of normalcy. Carefully he opened the door to the bedroom, allowing Dr. Benton to step inside.
The doctor moved towards Marty's bedside, the teen asleep already from the day's exhaustion. Emmett watched as Marty was examined, the doctor seeming far more relaxed by the end of the examination. He supposed no one knew of his doctorates and basic medical knowledge, without it Emmett was sure the town had good cause to worry on Marty's health.
"This is good work blacksmith. You ever think of being a doctor?" Dr. Benton stood, putting away his few tools and stepping away from the teen's bed to stand next to the blacksmith.
"I did some work back home when I was younger." Emmett smiled nervously, eyes darting back to Marty. He was never good at lying, it's why he kept himself so distant from the townsfolk. He could never explain his knowledge and where he got it.
"You could do some work now if you wanted. Lord knows we've got enough sick and injured people in this county, ‘specially with Tannen runnin' around shootin' and hangin' people." Dr. Benton sighed, adjusting his vest as he stood next to the blacksmith. Emmett hummed, not really listening as he kept his gaze trained on Marty's resting form.
"Hopefully the Sheriff will deal with him now." Emmett looked over at Dr. Benton, giving the man a strained smile as he tried not to think of how much he wanted to hurt Tannen. He'd never been one for violence but watching that man hang Marty had made his blood boil like no other. He was tired of dealing with Tannens. He was tired of having to keep them from hurting Marty, the boy didn't deserve it. Emmett snapped out of his thoughts as the doctor cleared his throat.
"Well, your boy looks like he's going to be fine blacksmith. I recommend rest and maybe some cough drops if his throat is still hurting." Dr. Benton smiled and made his way towards the door. Emmett followed behind him, trying not to rush the man but wanting to get back to Marty's side. He led the man back towards the entrance and held it open for the doctor.
"I'll be keeping an eye on him, Dr. Benton." Emmett smiled politely, ready for an end to social interactions for the day. Dr. Benton seemed ready to say something else before Marty's voice stopped them both.
"Emmett..." Marty whined, his voice a high breathy moan traveling from the backroom as he called for Emmett.
"You be safe now Mr. Brown." Dr. Benton blushed and stepped out of the smithy, giving a knowing smile to Emmett that the scientist did not understand. Emmett closed the door, sighing deeply. Why were other people so complicated? Conversations never made sense and there was always a layer of doublespeak to work through to even understand what was being said. He rubbed a hand down the side of his face before pushing himself off the door. Marty was still calling for him and Emmett hurried to his side.
Once in the room he could see that Marty was struggling to sit up in the bed, the glass of water he had left for the teen was spilled over onto the ground and part of Marty's shirt. A soft smile spread across Emmett's face as he stepped forward.
"'M sorry Doc." Marty grinned sheepishly at him as Emmett picked up the spilled glass.
"It's alright Marty, I'll clean this up, you just lie back." Emmett smiled brighter, setting the dirty glass aside for cleaning and pressing Marty back into the bed. He needed Marty to rest, he was so worried that the teen would overexert himself and cause an injury. Even calling for Emmett across the smithy was too much for Marty's vocal cords no matter how much Emmett liked hearing his name come from his friend. Rarely did Marty call him by name, preferring to use the lovely nickname the teen had come up with instead. But Marty was calling him by name now and Emmett was happy to hear it spoken again by someone he cared for.
He blushed and tried to will away any inappropriate thoughts and turned to grab a new glass when a hand reached out to his. He looked up to see an embarrassed flush spread across Marty's face and smiled slightly.
"Stay?" Marty stared at the bed, too embarrassed to meet Emmett's eyes. He didn't want the man far from him, he'd had too many experiences of turning his head only for Emmett to have disappeared.
"Of course Marty, I'm here." Something in Emmett's heart melted and he squeezed Marty's hand gently. He would always stay with his best friend.
also kind of obsessed with how this is framed like an innocent prank a kid would pull on their parent (giggling as they go to startle them from behind and such) even though the actual context is that finn is trying to rip off one of his father's limbs
It’s you friendly neighbor fanfic author here. In the light of this apparent new trend of people feeding unfinished fics to AI to get an “ending,” and some people even talking about “blanket permissions,” let me just say this:
I EXPLICITLY FORBID ANYONE TO FEED MY FICS TO AI. DUDE, THAT IS ABOUT THE LEAST RESPECTFUL THING YOU CAN DO. IF YOU DO IT, SHALL YOU BE EXCOMMUNICATED FROM YOUR FANDOM AND WALK ON LEGOS BAREFOOT TILL THE END OF DAYS.
I know the OP is saying this in a bit of a lighthearted way to be nice but I’m not that nice and I’m frankly really appalled at what I’ve been seeing so I’m going to explain why you shouldn’t do that.
AI CANNOT create on its own. It’s not that smart. Anyone who’s ever build any sort of language AI can tell you with 100% certainty it’s not that smart. It can “learn” and it can “create” sentences, but it needs to be fed a language to do so.
So it will only ever “create” based on what it’s fed. This is absolutely crucial.
There are ethical ways to do this. I did this in my undergrad with my class, taking .txt files of old classic books and feeding them to our programs for words. That way our programs were only ever “creating” from works that did not break copyright laws.
But feeding an AI someone else’s fanfic? Yeah, now you’ve given the language model SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK to learn off of WITHOUT THEIR PERMISSION.
It doesn’t matter that it’s a fanfic and technically, the author does not own the characters/setting. They created the story, they engaged in creative exercise, so that fanfic is theirs. YOU do not have the right, legally, to take THEIR work and do what you want with it, much less feed it to an AI who will take their work and now use it to further its language learning.
Especially since AIs like Chat GPT have a payment model. Now someone else is making money off of a fanfic author’s work, and YOU directly contributed to that.
A little shocked I have to say this but please don't feed my work, my writing or my art, to any AI for generative purposes or otherwise. Generative AI is theft, and innocent intentions are not an excuse.
I'm not going to explain why generative AI is bad, many artists and writers have already done that much more eloquently than I ever could. Do your own research. I work professionally in art and have been deeply personally impacted by AI, and seeing AI versions of my characters is deeply upsetting.
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