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happy74827 · 6 months

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Parallel Hearts

[Marty Mcfly x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Just as he was about to leave for good, Marty finds himself at a standstill because of you.

WC: 1,595

Category: Fluff

I always wanted to write about the Enchantment Under the Sea Dance and now I have. Enjoy!

『••✎••』

“Marty, that was very interesting music.”

The words were uttered in a tone that was as dry as a desert, but Marty didn’t care to take heed of it, for he had a mission – and that was to get home as fast as he could.

He knew Doc was waiting for him at the clock tower, with the DeLorean fully hooked up and ready to go. His face was probably set and grim, too. In fact, Marty was certain Doc would be more than a little concerned, since Marty had been away much longer than he had told him.

But he had to make sure he was going to be able to return back to 1985, so what did it matter if he spent an extra ten minutes just to make sure he was still going to exist?

Besides, the old-fashioned audience actually appreciated his guitar skills (for the most part), and it felt good to be noticed, even if it wasn't the type of audience he was used to. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

And so… Marty was going to leave this outdated time period behind with a smile and return back to 1985, the town Hill Valley that he had grown up in, where he had his best friend who knew him, his frenemy, his parents, and the life that he loved.

He was going to return to the Hill Valley he called home, but then he saw you.

He had only met you a couple of times before, but he recognized you instantly. It was hard to forget the young woman that was so dedicated and so determined to help him out in his mission, despite being completely clueless about it. You had helped him a great deal with setting up George and Lorraine, and the way you had helped him was something he could never repay.

He couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of regret when he thought of his rushed adventure in the past, because he had never gotten the chance to get to know you. He was just aware of your name and that you were a good friend of Lorraine.

“Leaving so soon?” you asked, the smile on your lips soft and gentle. Your eyes sparkled in a way that was very familiar, and he remembered how Lorraine had looked at him when he first approached her.

It wasn't exactly the same look, but there was a spark of something in your eyes that made Marty stop in his tracks.

Maybe it was a mistake to linger, because he knew that his life was quite literally on the line. And yet, here he was, doing just that.

“Uh, yes?” he replied, feeling like an absolute fool for being so tongue-tied. He could barely manage to get a word out, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He was usually cool under pressure, but right now, he was anything but cool.

Your expression softened, and you looked at him with such sympathy that it made his heart ache. He could feel a blush slowly creeping up his cheeks.

It didn’t make any sense, he didn't even know you! And yet, it was as though there was a connection. It wasn’t something physical, or something tangible, but something deeper and more meaningful.

Marty couldn’t understand his strange thoughts, or the way his heart was racing so fast. The sensation was unfamiliar, and it was almost as though he was experiencing his own life from an outsider's perspective.

It was strange, and not something that was easy to describe. But one thing was certain...

He really did want to get to know you.

You tilted your head slightly, a look of amusement crossing your features. He realized then that he had been silent for a long time.

"Are you alright?" you asked, reaching out and placing your hand on his arm. "You look a little lost."

“What? No! I mean, yes. Yeah, I'm… peachy." he replied quickly, trying his best to regain some semblance of composure. "I, uh, just wanted to thank you again for helping me out with the whole Lorraine and… uh, George situation. It worked, and they're together... in love. Soon, they'll get married and have three kids, and hopefully this time be a happy family.”

He could see your confusion at his words, but you hid it well as a smile spread across your face. "That’s… very specific, but I’m glad it worked out. Lorraine really needed someone who would cherish her. She's a very sweet girl."

There was a long silence, and Marty felt his heart thumping wildly against his chest. It was so loud that he was certain you could hear it.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. It wasn’t working.

One thought told him that he needed to go. The other urged him to stay.

A strange mixture of fear and anticipation made his heart pound even faster. He glanced around the room, searching for an escape route.

It would be easier to walk away now and forget about you. He knew he couldn’t afford to dally, not when Doc was waiting for him at the clock tower. He would probably have a heart attack if he was kept waiting any longer.

Marty turned to look at you, his blue eyes meeting yours. "I should, uh… really be going," he said, his voice faltering. "It's been really nice to see you again."

Before he could take another step, though, you reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

Marty turned to look at you, and was surprised by the intensity in your eyes.

"Can you spare one dance?" you asked, giving him a small smile. "Just one. It'll be quick, I promise."

He had a feeling it would be a bad idea. He was on a deadline, and time was running out. He was also supposed to be avoiding any form of contact with people from the past. It could change history, and he couldn't risk making another mistake.

But wouldn’t it be a mistake if he walked away from you?

What if the reason he felt this strange connection was because he was meant to get to know you? What if it was a sign that he was destined to meet you, and that he shouldn't walk away?

Marty took a deep breath, and decided that, for once, he was going to go against his better judgement and follow his heart.

Doc would probably hate him for it, but Marty didn’t care. What he did care about was the way your smile brightened when he caved and allowed you to drag him back.

He was slightly irritated with the fact that the band was still playing without that guitar, as it meant they completely bullshitted him on the whole 'can’t play without Marvin' thing, but when he took your hand in his, he forgot what he was mad about, and found himself getting swept away by the moment.

It wasn't a complicated dance. In fact, it was incredibly simple, but it was nice. Dancing with you was nice. It was like dancing in a dream. He felt like he was floating on air as he was lulled by the soft melody of the song.

It was a magical moment, and he wished it could last forever. However, reality came crashing down upon him, and he was suddenly reminded that his time was short.

He had to get home.

"I... I really have to go," Marty muttered, his gaze flickering down to your lips. You were close, so close that he could feel your warm breath tickling his cheek.

It would be so easy to lean in and kiss you, but he knew that would be a mistake. If he kissed you, it would only complicate things.

As much as he wanted to stay, he had to go.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I wish I could stay, but I… I can't.”

"That's okay," you replied, giving him a sad smile. "I understand."

You pulled away, and Marty instantly missed the warmth of your body pressed against his. Man, this was hard. He had never felt such a strong attraction to anyone before, and it was a struggle to resist.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and looked at him with an unreadable expression.

"Marty," you began, and his name sounded so sweet coming from your lips. "Thank you. For everything."

Before he could ask what you meant, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It was light and quick, but it was enough to send his heart racing.

"Goodbye, Marty," you whispered, a hint of sadness in your voice.

And then you were gone, disappearing into the crowd, leaving him standing there with his jaw hanging open and his heart racing.

He didn't know what to say or how to react.

All he knew was that he would never forget the look in your eyes as you turned and walked away. It caused his hands to shake a little, and he couldn’t help but run one through his hair.

Damn. He couldn’t stop the memory of the way your lips felt against his cheek from lingering in his mind. It was a moment he would never forget.

He didn’t know if he would ever see you again, but he knew that he would never forget the girl with the sparkling eyes.

And, perhaps, if he was lucky, he would see you again.

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the-oblivious-writer · 11 months

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Wanna Be Yours |1|

Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

Chapter One: Pranks & Fifth Year

Notes: Modern AU, Fem!SlytherinReader, any characters you don't recall from the Harry Potter universe are my OC's

Warning(s): None that I'm aware of

Prologue|Next Part

Y/n entered the train when a hand waved her over to a compartment. She entered the compartment where she saw familiar faces. Amelia and Leo were sitting across from each other, Y/n gave a quick 'hello' but then gave a confused expression.

"Where's Raine and Link?" she asked, Amelia rolled her eyes at the mention of the two. "Pranking the first years with Fred and George. Same as always."

Leo scooted closer to the window and left more room for Y/n to sit down. "Judging by the sudden silence, I'm assuming their plan is already in place." Y/n tilted her head back and sighed. "Merlins, do I even want to know what they have planned this time around?"

Leo chuckled slightly as he shook his head,"Why spoil it?" Just as those words left his mouth Lorraine, Fred and George came running in the compartment abruptly. They had their hands on their knees and were out of breath. "I'm assuming something went wrong" Y/n remarked.

Fred was peeking his head around every now and until finally shutting the door.

"Yeah..about that we uh kind of got the wrong compartment" Lorraine said as she took a seat, bunched up next to Y/n as Fred and George stood and avoided the window to the compartment door.

"Wait-" Amelia started looking around, "Where's Link?" Fred, George and Lorraine suddenly looked at each other and back at the girl.

"He kind of decided to take his own road but he's fi-" before George could finish his sentence the compartment door opened. The three pranksters jumped but soon relaxed when they saw that it was only Link. "Merlin's beard, you scared us," Fred said.

"Sorry bout' that mate just had to wait for the coast to be clear before showing my face" Link responded, still taking heavy breaths. "Whose compartment did you get instead?" Amelia asked curiously.

"Draco's who was with Blaise and Theo. We ran before they could even leave their seats" Fred said, slightly laughing as he recalled the memory. "You should have seen their faces when the stink bombs went off" the four started to laugh.

"I swear one of these days, you're gonna get yourselves killed" Leo said as he shook his head.

—

They arrive at Hogwarts and separate when getting to the Great Hall to go to their house tables. Amelia and Y/n sat together at the Slytherin table, Link sat with the Hufflepuffs and Lorraine and Leo sat at the Ravenclaw table. Dumbledore made the same speech he made every year. It was their fifth year, they had gotten used to the same boring words he fed them at the beginning of every year.

Eventually it was time to eat and the Great Hall grew with noise. Y/n sat and ate silently as Amelia spoke with another Slytherin. Y/n wasn't one for making conversation, half the time it felt forced. She kept a small friend group and that was it. Y/n was an anti-social butterfly as her friend called her.

Y/n poked around at her food but couldn't help but feel eyes on her. She looked up to see a Gryffindor girl staring at her, only for the girl to instantly avert her stare. Y/n felt heat rush to her cheeks from being stared at. The Slytherin stared back at her food as her mind kept trailing back to the girl.

Suddenly, Y/n felt a gentle nudge. "You alright?" Amelia asked the girl. Y/n only nodded and turned her head back at her food. Amelia looked at the girl skeptically but didn't want to push and left it at that.

—

Amelia and Y/n made their way to the dungeons when Amelia spoke. "I know you're always spaced out and stuff but you seemed a bit more than usual. Everything okay?"

Y/n thought for a moment. "Yeah it's just..there was this girl who I caught staring and it just caught me off guard I guess." Amelia gave a little smirk which confused Y/n. "What?"

"I think I might know who you're talking about," Amelia replied. "And how is that?" Y/n asked curiously. "Just have a feeling it's the same girl who I've caught staring at you before" Amelia answered as she still held a small smirk.

"And who might that be?" Y/n asked, heat rushing to her cheeks. "Just some girl whom you’ve never spoken to but I have a feeling this year will be different. Considering this is the first time your clueless ass has noticed" Amelia remarked.

Y/n rolled her eyes at the girl's last comment, "Enough playing blue's clues, I'm exhausted." The two girls entered the Slytherin common room and made their way to the dorms.

-----

A/n: Hope you enjoyed that first chapter! Exams are still going on but I'll try to work on a chapter whenever I can

Remember to stay hydrated folks, happy pride and good luck to anybody else who still has exams going on!

#hermione fic #harry potter fanfiction #hermione granger #hermione x fem reader #hermione fanfiction #hermione x reader #hermione x you #hermione granger x reader #wanna be yours #emma watson x reader

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arcanemoody · 9 months

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Listening to two season 5 era Nygmobblepot playlists I put together that, while very catchy and grounded in a love story I hold dear, are far from joyful. Particularly Ed's which is post-5x11, where he knows he has BIG feelings, but feels clotheslined by his actions in season 3. "That" is not something he can ask for from Oswald, so he's settling for staying in his orbit and keeping the knives out of his back.

i'm getting sentimental over you (tommy dorsey and his orchestra)

you don't know what love is (chet baker)

rehab (amy winehouse)

april fools (rufus wainwright)

don't say nothing bad about my baby (the cookies)

(what can i say) after i say i'm sorry (dinah shore)

telephone (electric light orchestra)

to love somebody (janis joplin)

am i blue (billie holiday)

last dance (donna summer)

they didn't believe me (dinah shore)

i'll call you mine (the zombies)

everything happens to me (chet baker)

i'm not okay (i promise) (robyn adele anderson)

just a gigolo (louis prima)

show me the way to go home (irving king)

keep yourself alive (queen)

the way you say goodnight (magnetic fields)

[x]

And Oswald’s bridges the end of season 4, when he finds Ed’s dead body and goes through the standard Penguin ‘stages of grief’ in early season 5: try to stop feeling and make the world eat shit. All of which lands him squarely in the middle of the Haven crisis and, shortly after, Pena Dura: staggered by senseless death and how much Ed still doesn’t understand.

suffragette city (david bowie)

gatsu (guts' theme) (scooby)

glory and gore (lorde)

last nite (the strokes)

new town (the vitamins)

habanera from carmen (georges bizet)

real men (joe jackson)

house without windows (roy orbison)

stay with me (lorraine ellison)

faust (paul williams)

nightclubbing (david bowie)

have mercy on the criminal (elton john)

the way i do (bishop briggs)

stop the world and let me off (patsy cline)

don't look back in anger (scott bradlee's postmodern jukebox feat. maiya sykes)

sally go round the roses (the jaynettes)

i would die 4 u (prince)

prince charming (adam ant)

[x]

Because. As much as I love a renewed accord awakening new passion... I need them both to do a melancholy conga line of raw suffering until someone forces them to talk it out at knifepoint.

#fandom playlist #nygmobblepot #gotham #this is a little self-indulgent #but i've had a hard day #and i don't care

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bookishzelda · 1 year

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I Think We're Alone Now

Marty McFly x reader

This is a small, very fluffy Y/N fic inspired by the song I Think We're Alone Now by Tiffany! Hope you enjoy it!

"This is a wonderful dinner, Mrs. McFly," you say, poking at the last few bites of lasagna on your plate.

"Thank you, Y/N," Lorraine replies, giving you a small smile. You return it, glad to be on her good side for now.

You glance over at Marty, who’s working on his third helping. His blue eyes meet yours with a smirk; then under the table you feel him reach to touch your leg, squeezing your knee gently. You smile down at your plate until you hear Lorraine clear her throat. You look up to see her glaring at Marty, and he withdraws his hand, resting it on the table instead. You sigh mentally. How does that woman always know?

Marty was always complaining about his conservative parents, but it wasn't until recently, when you had started coming around to his house for dinner or homework, that you had been on the receiving end of his mother's disapproval. While Lorraine had never been overtly mean or rude to you, there always seems to be a tension between the two of you; and although Marty doesn't say anything about what she says about you at home, you get the impression that its not particularly positive. As a result, displays of affection between you and Marty are always clandestine, snatched in moments when Lorraine's back is turned. More often than not, you get caught by someone.

You throw a sideways glance at Marty, who rolls his eyes and shrugs. You smile back and return to your food.

When everybody’s finished, you stand up, saying, “I’ll help with the dishes, Mrs. McFly.”

“Thank you, Y/N, that would be great,” she replies.

“Aw, Mom, come on; she’s a guest,” Marty protests.

“I don’t mind, Marty,” you say.

“I know, but you shouldn’t have to.” Slipping an arm around your shoulders, he says, “Hey, Dad, Y/N shouldn’t have to wash dishes, should she?”

George looked up from where he was staring at the TV. “What? Oh, oh, no, it’s fine, it’s all… fine.”

“All right, then you’ll help me, George?” Lorraine says.

Marty slips out of the room, leading you by the arm down the hall. “What are you thinking?” he hisses, pulling you into a corner of the hall.

“I’m trying to stay on your mom's good side,” you whisper. “I figured I could earn some points with her.” “Yeah, but if you’re in there doing dishes,” he argues, brushing a lock of hair from your face, “we can’t do this.” He brings his lips to meet yours, letting his hands rest on the back of your neck. You shut your eyes and bring your hands to his sides. His touch is gentle, making you melt.

You hear someone cough pointedly behind you and immediately break away from each other, whipping around to face whoever caught you. Linda is watching you, arms folded.

“Do you mind not doing that where I have to see it?” she drones.

Marty narrows his eyes. “Then don’t look.”

“I need to get into my room, but I’d prefer to know you two aren’t making out right outside my door.”

“Come on, Linda, you know Mom would kill me if I had Y/N in my room,” he whines, rubbing your shoulder. “There’s nowhere else to go.”

“Not my problem,” she shrugs.

You sigh, grabbing Marty’s hand. “It’s okay, Marty. Maybe we can slip into the garage.”

“Don’t bother. Dave’s having some friends over in there.”

You let out a grunt of frustration. Why does it always seem like his whole family is trying to keep you apart?

Marty leads you to the other end of the hall, shoving past Linda. Once you’re out of her line of fire, he looks down at you and whispers, “Well, Y/N… it looks like we’ll just have to find our own place.” His eyes twinkled eagerly, like a little boy’s, bringing a smile to your face. Although you’re not entirely sure what he’s talking about, you squeeze his hand and say, “I’m in.”

You follow him through the house, letting him open the front door as he yells, “Mom, Dad, we’re going for a walk!”

You’re both out the door fast enough that you can pretend not to hear her call, “Just a minute, Marty!”

Marty grabs his skateboard, which is leaning against the wall of the front porch, along with a spare, which he had used to teach you how to ride. He tosses one to you, and you run down to the street, laughing. You both drop your skateboards on the asphalt and push off, heading for the gate. You’re not quite as fast as Marty, but you push furiously as you grab onto his hand, feeling the wind in your hair.

You let Marty lead the way, trusting that he had an actual plan. He keeps a grip on your hand the whole way, leading you along sidewalks and through intersections. You close your eyes for a brief moment, relishing this spontaneous escape.

When finally he lets go of you and cruises to a stop, you realize you’re at the entrance of Hill Valley’s main park. After hiding the skateboards, he grabs your hand again, and says with that same eye twinkle, “Let’s go.”

You have no choice but to follow as he takes off running. Your legs pump furiously to stay beside him, feet pounding on the grass. You both run toward the middle of the park, finally coming to a stop at the top of a low hill. As you stand there to catch your breath, Marty throws his arms around you and pulls you both to the ground so that you land in a heap. You laugh, rolling off of him and onto the ground. You face him and he puts a finger to your lips.

“Listen,” he says.

You obey, trying to pick out the noise. You can hear cars in the far distance, and a dog barking somewhere in the park, but that’s about it. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly,” he grins, pulling you closer. “I think we’re finally alone.”

You smile, draping an arm over his shoulder. “Finally,” you echo.

“No more of my family watching our every move… no one to tell us what to do… no one to keep us from doing this.” With those words he brings his lips to yours. You let yourself get lost in his kiss, putting your hands on his shoulders. His hands wander to your waist, gently pulling you closer to himself, letting your kiss become heavier.

When finally you break apart, you’re breathless. You gaze at him to see his beautiful, blues eyes shining in the evening light. You smile through a blush and say, “I’m glad we could get away.”

“Me, too,” he says, cupping your cheek with his gentle hand. Your eyes flutter closed as his fingers stroke your skin.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he whispers.

You flush so hard you worry he might burn his hand. “So are you.”

He smirks. “I’m serious. I think destiny brought us together.”

You plant a kiss on the tip of his nose. “You’re adorable, you know that?” you say, rubbing your nose against his.

Marty weaves his fingers through your hair and closes the small space between your mouths with a soft, slow kiss. The tenderness in his touch makes your whole heart melt. When he lets you go, you touch your forehead to his, running your hand through his unbelievably soft hair and breathing in his familiar cologne.

“Marty,” you whisper. That’s all you can think to say before he draws you in for another kiss.

The two of you lie on the grass for nearly an hour, his arms wrapped securely around you, exchanging kisses and caresses as night begins to fall. At last he kisses the top of you head and says, “We should probably leave.”

You pout dramatically. “I don’t wanna leave,” you complain.

Marty chuckles, kissing your hair again. “Come on, Y/N, I’m probably in trouble as it is; I don’t need to get deeper in for staying out too late.”

You gaze at his face, lit by the last rays of sun and the florescent streetlight overhead. “Fine,” you say, rolling away from his embrace and standing up. The sudden separation from his body heat makes you acutely aware of the chill in the evening air, and a shiver runs through your body. You’d forgotten to grab your coat when you rushed out.

“Cold?” Marty asks.

You shrug. “Maybe a little.”

“Here,” he replies, slipping off his denim jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders. You slide your arms through the sleeves.

“Thanks,” you say.

“Of course,” he replies, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and squeezing you to his side. As you walk, he lightly kisses your hair and rests his cheek against the top of your head.

When you reach the park’s exit, you both grab the skateboards that you had stashed in a bush. However, you don’t put you’d on the ground. “No reason to rush,” you say, taking his hand again. He smiles down at you, squeezing your hand tenderly.

The two of you walk home in comfortable silence. All too soon the lion statues marking the entrance to his neighborhood come into view. Stepping up into his porch, he finally lets go if your hand and turns to face you. “Ready to go back to reality?” he asks.

You sigh internally, depressed that the spell is about to be broken. “Yeah.”

Marty reaches to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Your breath catches as his hand lingers, before he lifts your chin and softly touches his lips to yours.

All too soon he pulls away and opens the front door, ushering you both back into the real world of noise, scowls, and judgmental family members.

#marty mcfly #back to the future #bttf #back to the future imagine #bttf imagine #marty mcfly imagine #marty mcfly x reader #fluff

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sadgirlbaby · 1 year

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MARTY MCFLY - back to the future (1-2)

FACTS

status: alive

birth date: 1968

family: george mcfly (father), lorraine mcfly (mother), dave mcfly (brother), linda mcfly (sister), stella baines (grandmother), sam baines (grandfather), milton baines (uncle), toby baines (uncle), joey baines (uncle), sally baines (aunt), ellen baines (aunt), marty mcfly jr. (son), marlene mcfly (daughter)

relationships: jennifer parker mcfly (spouse), emmett brown (doc.) [best friend]

height: 5’4” (163cm)

occupation: student, musician

HEADCANONS & PREFERENCES (marty x female reader)

some “headcanons” are inspired on true information from the movies.

he really loves being in the spotlight

he always wants to make you have some great time with him

he always brings joy even during your worst days

he’s ESFP

he’s a gemini

you and him often hang out hoverboarding somewhere

he looks like the sweetest boy alive but trust me when I say that he’s very dirty minded

he is so friendly and he gets happy every time he has to meet new people (like your friends)

he will NEVER forbid you a meeting with your friends

he is so understanding

he could be moody sometimes but nothing exaggerated

he literally can’t wait to have children with you

reminder: requests are always open!

+ I accept any kind of tip about my writing/grammar and also about the structure of the imagine/preferences post.

#back to the future #marty mcfly #‘80s #time travel #imagines #smut stories #headcanon #back to the future imagine #marty mcfly x reader

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waywardrose · 5 months

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THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 24

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

5.6k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: Idk if the Cali group arrives in Hawkins on Saturday or Sunday. I'm going with Saturday. If that's wrong, well, this fic isn't canon compliant anyway. Also, Unnamed Freak (aka Dave) has a canon name now with Flight of Icarus: Dougie. I've corrected this entire fic on all platforms. If I've missed a "Dave" somewhere, please tell me. 🖤

The phone rang, jolting you from your research. On reflex, you stretched across the spread of opened spell books for the phone on the nightstand. Then you remembered you weren’t at home. You sat on the bed in one of Steve’s guestrooms.

When he didn’t ask you to answer the phone, you straightened and found where you’d left off. The ringing ceased, then Steve’s voice drifted through the open door. At one time, it would’ve been an annoyance. Now, it reminded you that you weren’t alone. You had people who knew you for who you were and weren’t wary of your abilities.

Last night, Robin had stayed through dinner and Back to the Future. Working at Family Video had its perks, because there was a waitlist to rent it. Robin and Steve had talked through the entire movie, asking about you and sharing about themselves, but you hadn’t minded. You learned that ‘Scoops’ was Scoops Ahoy, an ice cream parlor. It must be a Midwestern chain, because you’d never heard of it.

Robin bragged Steve had slung so much ice cream, they had to put in special orders. Steve shrugged, all bravado, yet his flushed cheeks belied his cool demeanor.

“You should’ve seen some of the girls who came in,” Robin had said, face reverent. “They must’ve come from Fort Wayne or Indy—”

Eyes wide, Steve had interrupted. “Yeah, they weren’t local, that’s for sure.”

You’d glanced at him, then at Robin. He’d tried to divert the conversation. Maybe to protect her? That had made no sense until you remembered you were in the Midwest, where homosexuality — or even bisexual tendencies — was anathema.

To Robin, you asked with a sly look: “That hot, huh?”

“God, I could barely keep eye con—” She curled her lips between her teeth, but rallied. “I mean, they were, like, super intimidating.”

You grinned with a minute shake of your head.

“No, I get it. Girls are hot.”

“Yeah…” she breathed, eyes going glassy. “Girls are hot.”

The conversation had paused as George confronted Biff on screen. When George and Lorraine walked away together, you’d reached for your drink and glimpsed Steve holding Robin’s hand. He noticed you noticing and opened his mouth to speak. You stopped him with an understanding look.

“So, is there a girl at school you like?” you’d asked before taking a sip.

Robin glanced at Steve, who’d offered an encouraging shrug. She’d smiled, giddy and love-struck, and gushed about Vickie. According to Robin, she looked like Molly Ringwald, but even cuter. Vickie was talented and funny and smart. Steve insisted Vickie was into her despite what they’d seen at The War Zone. Robin waved it away, saying Vickie had a boyfriend. It was a lost cause. She’d pine from afar.

You’d said, “Well, not necessarily. She could be bi.”

“I don’t know? It doesn’t seem likely.” She’d gnawed on her bottom lip. “I would normally say that’s ridiculous, because this is Hawkins, but—” She gestured at herself.

You’d narrowed your eyes playfully.

“You could still win fair maiden’s heart.”

Steve laughed. “You sound like Munson.”

“What can I say? He’s rubbed off on me.”

Robin had snorted. “Yeah, I bet that’s not the only thing he’s done.” You’d giggled even as your face heated. You grinned now thinking about it.

Knuckles rapped on the doorjamb. Steve stood in the doorway, the sleeves of his teal henley pushed up his forearms. His perfectly tousled hair framed his face, his jeans showed off the goods, and his Nikes were clean.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey, lookin’ good.”

He put a hand on the back of his head and looked down as if bashful. Like he didn’t know how handsome he was.

You asked, “Going somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah, that was Nance on the phone. She wants to donate some stuff at the school, and I offered her a lift. I think I’m going to volunteer while I’m there, too. You know, whatever they need.”

“That’s…” You first thought ‘surprising,’ but that was insulting. “That’s really generous of you.” You glanced at your suitcase overflowing with clean laundry. “Actually, I bet I have a few things someone else could use.”

“Oh, wow, sure.” He nodded. “You wanna come with?” He waggled a hand. “I mean, I know you’re not ready, but I was going to call Robin and Dustin. See if they wanna join.”

“I want to, but I can’t. I need to heal Lucas and Max.” You gestured to all the opened books. “That’s what I’m researching.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

He pointed at his left eye.

“Wouldn’t everything be a little easier if you had both?”

“Probably, but Max is worse than I am, so…” You looked at the books. “I can manage.”

He surprised you a second time when he said, “It’s hard to take that ‘put your own oxygen mask on first’ advice, but you should consider it.”

You met his earnest eyes.

“I will.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. You should be the guinea pig before you sprung a healing spell on Lucas or Max. While you were certain a healing spell would never harm, that didn’t mean it would be effective.

Marking your place in the book you’d been reading, you eased off the bed. You knelt in front of your suitcase to pick out a few pairs of socks, a free promo t-shirt you wore when cleaning, and a pair of tartan trousers you hadn’t worn since moving.

There was more at home you’d be happy to donate. You realized you could drop in after healing Max to pick up more — as long as your parents hadn’t returned.

When Steve stopped at your door, you handed over the clothes and told him of your plan. He brightened with a nod. You jokingly assured him not all your clothes were black and scary.

He lifted the stack of clothes.

“Just most of them.”

You laughed as he smiled at you.

He stepped back and said he was leaving, adding he’d leave the spare key on the foyer console. You thanked him and wished him luck before he skipped down the stairs.

As the front door snicked closed, you plucked the book from the bed and found a white tea-candle in your magic supplies. After placing both on the en-suite bathroom counter, you flipped on the light. With a deep inhale, you found your center. Time to be a guinea pig. You opened the book and lit the candle.

Holding your fingertips above the flame, you said, “Magic mend as candle burns; Affliction end and health returns.”

You brought your warmed fingers to the dark, tender bruise on your jaw and repeated the chant. Your skin heated almost to the point of pain. You closed your eyes to concentrate on the feeling. Tendrils of cooling energy twisted through your flesh. You shivered and breathed through it.

Once the tendrils dissipated, you opened your eyes and withdrew your fingers. The bruise was gone. You wiggled your jaw, then put pressure where the bruise had been to find it recovered. Like Jason had never punched you.

That was one injury — and the lesser of the two.

You slipped the pressure patch from your eye and examined your reflection. The cursed eye was like any other injury, you rationalized. Surgeons removed damaged bits of the eye all the time. You were no surgeon, of course. You weren’t removing damage; you were healing it. That was different.

You couldn’t psych yourself out, though. It was like making the Creel house go unnoticed on Thursday. Size didn’t matter. Hence, the extent of the injury didn’t matter. It was all the same and all connected. There was plenty of energy in the candle, in the spell, in the universe, and in you to heal this.

You took a few deep breaths before holding your fingertips above the flame and reciting the chant. You closed your eyes as warm energy gathered. You brought your fingers to your left eye, swallowed the mounting tension in your throat, and repeated the chant.

Your fingers went numb. Heat radiated from your eye like needles of fire. Lightning burned under your skin. The floor left your feet. Or your feet left the floor. You couldn’t find the counter. You couldn’t move or think or orient yourself.

You clawed at the dark like a panicked animal. Red flashed across your vision. Rotting vines slithered across every surface, growing thicker. Their musty, sour smell invaded your nose. Your heartbeat thundered through the room. Red flashed again. A figure made of sharp edges and pain moved behind the vines. You stepped back. They stepped back. You reached forward. They reached forward. You screamed at them. Their mouth opened as though mocking you.

You charged forward to thrust your hand between the vines. Your palm hit cold glass. You met the figure’s eyes. They were your own.

You stumbled away. Your back slammed into something hard. Each blink of your eyes tore you through different realities. The gray Upside Down, your sunny reality, glowing lava fields, a silent city made of slate, a world full of unvoiced secrets, neon lights and the scent of stale beer. Time curved in on itself. No future, no past. On and on it flowed until you yelled for it to stop, stop, stop.

The soft bathmat cushioned your calves. You held onto the counter edge with your forehead pressed against the wood cabinet. The side of your nose filled the left border of your vision.

The spell hadn’t worked.

“Shit.”

You hauled yourself to your knees and braced your elbows on the counter. Thin tracks of blood ran down your reflection’s left cheek.

“Shit.”

You stood and bent over the sink to examine closer in the mirror. The cursed eye didn’t look any worse. Its milky pupil and iris were the same as before. Rheumy blood flaked under your touch.

If the spell hadn’t worked for you, you doubted it would work for Max. She’d taken part of the curse, the same as you. Your eye wasn’t only injured. It stood to reason her arm wasn’t only broken. Then you remembered both her eyes looked like your left.

This was more complex than any healing spell could manage—

Which you said to Lucas after mending his swollen cheek and eye.

From behind him, Erica asked, “Can’t you kill this son of a bitch already?”

You glanced over her shoulder at Susan, who slept on the alcove couch.

“I don’t know if a spell would reach him.”

Lucas turned to Erica.

“And if she kills him, she could kill Max.”

You frowned.

“Why do you think that?”

“El said she couldn’t find Max,” he said, tapping his temple.

He’d explained when you’d first arrived the other members of the party were back in town. On Thursday, El had fought Vecna by connecting to Max’s mind, while Vecna was also connected to Max. El then said Vecna had roared in pain and disintegrated into smoke in his own mindscape. Nancy had connected that to her shooting him and Robin Molotov-ing him.

El had seen Max unconscious in Lucas’s arms afterwards. She felt Max’s steady heartbeat then. Max’s heart continued to beat, which the EKG confirmed. However, El entered Max’s mind this morning to find a void.

“You think she’s with Vecna?” you asked.

Erica said, “Or she’s brain-dead.”

Lucas’s face became a mask of absolute anguish.

“Harsh,” you said to her.

Erica shrugged in lieu of saying it was a possibility. It might be, but you didn’t want to give up hope just yet. Lucas returned to the bedside chair to page through The Talisman. There had to be something you could do or something you could offer.

Erica cursed under her breath and went to Susan. After Erica repeated Susan’s name and shook her shoulder numerous times, she woke with a grumble. Erica announced it was two o’clock. Susan blinked in sullen confusion. Erica said Susan had work at four.

Susan’s voice was hoarse when she said, “O-of course. Thank you.”

Erica backed away as Susan coughed with a wince and sat up. She sounded like shit. Her pallid face looked more tired than yesterday.

You asked, “Would you like some water?”

Her drowsy eyes settled on you.

“Oh, you’re back.” She couldn’t seem to muster a smile, but she looked pleased. “It’s good to see you.”

Without waiting for an answer, you went to the squat pitcher and disposable cups on the overbed table and poured her some cool water. Her hands trembled as she took the cup from you, but she managed drinking half the water in one go. That appeared to revive her, and you offered her more.

She nodded with a soft, “Yes, please.”

As you filled her cup, you thought of a quick blessing. She needed strength to see this situation through. For all you knew, she might be the key to bringing Max back, because despite what Erica said, you didn’t think Max was brain-dead.

By the time Susan finished the water, her green eyes had brightened. She stood, fluffed her hair, and straightened her rumpled clothes. She announced she was going back to the motel to shower and change before work, and if anything happened, to give her a call.

You, Lucas, and Erica promised. Susan nodded to herself and hooked her purse over her shoulder. She went to Max, righted one of her braids, and murmured something to her. She hesitated a second, taking a quick look around, before leaving the room.

You placed the pitcher on the overbed table and threw Susan’s cup in the bathroom wastebasket. The tense silence made you aware of every noise you made, from the swish of the wastebasket liner to the crinkle of your clothes and faint footsteps. Rhythmic squeaking of wheels came from the corridor.

Watching the EKG display, you thought of something you could do:

“I can look for Max, too. I don’t have El’s powers, of course, but Max and I, we’re connected.” You shook your head. “I… I might have a better chance of finding her or finding a clue to get her back.”

Lucas asked, “Are you sure?”

“What if Vecna’s got her, and he takes you?” Erica leaned her elbows on the overbed table. “Then we’re down a magic-user — and we need as many as we can get.”

“He can’t get me here. He tried before and he failed.”

“But you died.”

“And yet, here I am, talking to you.”

“Died.”

You threw out your hands. There was no arguing that fact. Yes, you had died. Yes, Vecna’s curse had killed you. Nevertheless, you were alive. Also, Vecna was wounded.

Lucas asked, “What’s your plan?”

“I don’t know? Connect with her somehow?”

You thought of psychometry. Through touch you’d seen Eddie’s past. Perhaps through touch you could see Max’s. If you could see when the curse hit her from her point of view, maybe that would show you how to get her back.

“Maybe I can’t communicate with her,” you said. “But I might be able to see how Vecna took her.”

“Then you could reverse his steps.”

“Something like that, sure.”

Lucas sighed in thought, tapping his fingers on the book. He came to a conclusion before looking at you.

“It’s worth a shot.”

Erica huffed in disapproval and retreated to the couch.

You propped a hip on the bed, facing Max. Her delicate fingers curled over the cast. You tucked your hand around them and closed your eye.

Unlike with Eddie, you didn’t have to tell Max to relax and trust you. You loosened your shoulders, breathing deep. You focused on her hand, the stillness of her fingers and the fine skin of her knuckles.

The room went cold. Ambient noise disappeared. The mattress sagged under your weight.

Max’s grip tightened.

You opened your eyes. The pressure patch was gone — as was Max’s cast. She stared at you through milky eyes in a younger face. Her now-smaller hand held fast to yours.

The world went wound-red and drained of life. Only you and she remained in the room. No leaves grew on the trees outside. A motionless, stormy sky hovered close. You were in a frozen, bloody version of your world, like a paused horror movie.

“I can’t sleep,” said Max.

“You’re sleeping in our world.”

“What? How?”

“This isn’t your world.”

“Am I dreaming?”

You hadn’t considered that. She could be dream-walking. If she were, why would she choose this? Why would she be younger?

You said, “I don’t know, but you need to leave this place.”

“You mean I need to wake up?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I can’t. I can’t switch back. I don’t know how.” She frowned. “Where’s El?”

“I don’t know.”

Instinct kept you from telling her El had been at the hospital to visit her earlier in the day. This younger Max could be an illusion. You could be talking to Vecna. Or Vecna could be listening.

“How did you get here?” you asked.

“I was fighting Vecna, and he threw me. Everything went dark.”

“And then?”

“And then I woke up in the goddamn Upside Down.”

You examined the room, noticing how much differed from what you’d seen through the tumbler.

“You sure this is the Upside Down?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s red, and where are the vines? The lightning? The demo-creatures?”

From nowhere, an invisible force pushed you backwards. Your foot skidded across the floor. You held onto Max’s hand. She bent forward to stay with you, then struggled to her knees. Your hip dropped off the crumbling mattress. You gripped the edge of the tattered sheets until they tore.

Her eyes widened as she shook her head.

“Don’t go!”

“I’m trying!”

But there was nothing to fight against.

You met her panicked gaze.

“We’ll find you! Wherever you are, we’ll find you!”

Your heel hit the floor. You lost your hold on Max’s hand. She screamed your name, crawling to the end of the bed. You pitched backwards, your heel the focal point. For a second, it felt like flying.

You landed hard on your side. Your ears rang. Like Dorothy landing in Oz, the world bloomed in technicolor. The pressure patch was back. Hands rolled you onto your back. Above you, Lucas and Erica blurred and sharpened. Their mouths moved, but their voices couldn’t overpower the ringing. You touched Lucas’s shoulder to confirm you’d returned.

The room dimmed. Shadows deepened. The three of you paused.

Red light flared through the window. Thunder vibrated the glass, restoring your hearing. You froze. You’d brought the Upside Down — or wherever you’d been — with you. Any second, those rotting vines would slither over the walls, the floor, Max’s bed.

Lucas helped you sit. Erica peered at the window on the other side of the bed. The clouds darkened further. When the vines didn’t appear, you used the bedframe to hoist yourself to your feet. Erica went to the window first, Lucas right behind her. You followed them, keeping to the shadows. You dared not look at any reflective surface, lest that sharp-edged figure look back.

Red lightning cut through the iron gray tower of smoke now spewing from the mega-gate’s nexus. Deafening thunder shook your bones. Warmth quaked in your gut a second later, silver and true. It filled the emptiness that had settled days ago.

Pitch black surrounded him. He lay on ice — or something like it. It curved around the back of his bare arms, cooled his body numb. So numb he couldn’t move. And he needed to move. There was work to do, someone to find, wrongs to right. Too much had gone wrong in the world. Too many injustices to name. He could make it right. He could help, gather, hunt.

Blood hung in the air. Screeches echoed through his mind, a hungry call for vengeance. Vines pulsed with wrath. The Source promised a righteous purpose larger than himself. The Source was a kindred soul: misunderstood, rejected, and enraged by the world’s hypocrisy. They were misfits together.

And there was no need to be frightened of anything anymore.

He searched the dark, his fingers not offering the answers he needed. He moved his legs and found the curve of the surface he lay on. Raising a foot, his toe bumped into something hard and smooth inches above. He let his heel fall as he walked his hands across the surface. He pulled it down his body. Whatever he was on moved instead.

He walked his hands above his head to find more of the same smooth surface. To his left were round protrusions, like bolts. Yes, he thought, bolts. Bolts meant hinges. Hinges were weak points.

More bolts were on the right. That was the hinge. The left was the handle. Handles were weak points, too.

He placed his palm on the handle bolts.

The Source said he could free himself. Something as mundane as this wouldn’t injure him.

He slammed the heel of his palm below the bolts. The handle rattled. He struck a second time. The handle whined. He struck again. The handle clanged in the background. He waited for someone to come investigate — police, a guard, even an assistant. He pushed the hatch open and waited a few minutes more. It was nominally brighter beyond, yet there was enough light to see he lay on a metal drawer.

He pulled himself through the portal. The drawer rumbled. Still, no one came. All around the portal were similar metal doors with chrome latch handles. He recognized it for the morgue it was.

He’d been dead. He was dead.

The Source contradicted the thought, saying everyone had mistaken him for dead. They’d not looked close enough. They’d abandoned him. They’d thrown him away. Only Source accepted him and had seen him for the valuable individual he’d always been.

He sat and scooted up the drawer to maneuver his legs out. The skin on his torso pulled. He looked down and gagged. Lines of black stitches or patches of missing flesh disfigured his chest and stomach. He touched the flap of skin on a patch on his right side. It should’ve hurt—

Nothing hurt.

He should’ve been cold. He’d been in a refrigerated box for who knows how long, but he wasn’t.

The Source assured him he was beyond pain.

His right calf and left thigh had been gnawed on, too. Someone had attempted to repair the damage with more black stitches. Those injuries didn’t pull like his torso.

That hardly mattered, though. He needed to leave— wherever the fuck he was. He needed clothes for that, because he was very, very naked. Making anything right usually required covering your ass.

He slipped off the drawer, landing on feet that didn’t feel like his own. His legs wobbled. Every wound protested as he straightened. The skin stretched little by little until he could stand.

A shelving unit stacked with linens stood by the main door. He found a scrub top and held it up. His bare hands felt as naked as the rest of him. That wasn’t how it should be. He only took off— No, he hadn’t taken off anything. He was supposed to see someone. They were waiting— No, no one was waiting for him. Everyone thought he was useless — and dead.

He was forgetting someone— No, they’d forgotten him. He touched his upper chest. Something should be there. They’d stolen something from him.

Yes, someone had taken something from them. He needed to find this person— No, wait for this person. They had an essential component in Source’s plan, and he had to capture it.

“Something’s changed,” you said.

“Uh, yeah,” said Lucas, pointing towards the window. “The Upside Down is invading Hawkins.”

You shook your head.

“No, I feel the pull of something.”

You didn’t want to say you felt the silver flame of Eddie’s energy for the first time in days. That sounded hokey even to yourself. If the emptiness — which had to have been Eddie — was filled, it meant Eddie was alive. You couldn’t desert him. You had to find him.

Erica said, “You can’t go now.”

Lucas nodded.

“The party doesn’t separate.”

“Even if it’s for a member of the party?”

“Who is it?”

“I think it’s Eddie.”

“What about Max?” he asked. “Did you find her?”

With a nod, you explained the paused, red world where Max couldn’t sleep. Max thought she was dreaming, but you weren’t sure it was her dream. You theorized it was an illusion to keep her stuck. There had to be something to get her unstuck. She wanted to switch back, but she didn’t know how.

“She exists in two worlds,” you said. “Her body in ours, her mind in another.”

“Or in Vecna’s mind.”

“We have to unite her,” said Erica.

“She asked where El was, but I didn’t tell her. Because I don’t know, and because I didn’t want Vecna finding out.” The pull of Eddie being alive nagged at your consciousness, and you shook your head. “Look, I can’t stay. I gotta find Eddie.” You grabbed your purse from where you’d left it by the door. “Guard Max. Hide her, if you have to.”

Erica and Lucas shared a look.

“We can do that,” he said.

You gave them a nod before leaving the room. Eddie’s energy drew you outside. Though you didn’t understand, you took the service stairs down. Hospital personnel pushed open doors and passed you on the stairs without questioning you.

While the first-floor corridors bustled with people and staff, a hushed tension overlaid every conversation. You swerved around anxious groups of two or three and the occasional thousand-yard-stare loner.

Outside, the scent of smoke and hot ozone had your eyes near burning and your nose on the verge of running. Ash fell like snow from the low ceiling of the clouds. It disappeared when it touched your skin.

You brought your shirt collar over your nose, then crossed the parking lot to your car. You stowed your purse in the trunk and pocketed the keys. There, you hesitated. If Eddie wasn’t in the hospital, he could be anywhere. Perhaps Wayne had identified him and took him to another hospital. However, there wasn’t another hospital in Hawkins. Maybe he was at a doctor’s office. His wounds might’ve looked worse than they were. That didn’t explain his absence from Indra’s net or his reappearance, though.

You turned to the path that led through the trees at the back of the parking lot. Except for funeral homes, only the hospital and coroner’s office could store dead bodies. If Eddie was in a funeral home, word about it would’ve been everywhere by now.

His energy wasn’t far, yet it was muddled, like poor reception on a TV. You tried getting more of a read on him. Pain lit your nerves, making you back off. You pressed your shirt over the bridge of your nose and breathed deep.

Fine, you thought. The coroner’s office it is.

You had to get yourself worked up. An injured girl near tears could get sympathetic assistance and soothing information. You made your breath shallow and rapid as you marched across the parking lot. You brought to mind every stressor: your father rejecting your every idea, being a stranger in this town, Vecna disfiguring your face after stealing your magic, making mistake after mistake and not finding the strength to get over it or fix it, finding Eddie and losing him all in one night.

Tears rimmed your eyes as you walked under the coroner’s office awning. You righted your shirt and pushed at the door. It clanked in its frame.

“What the hell?”

You caught your breath. Maybe you had to pull it. You tried that, earning another clank.

It was locked. Still.

That was complete bullshit.

Your tears evaporated as you grit your teeth. You would not be kept from him any longer. It didn’t matter if he was alive, dead, or undead. You would see Eddie.

You placed a palm over the deadbolt.

“You are undone,” you whispered to it.

Its screws unwound and fell to the floor. The outside cover tumbled off. The interior mechanism flicked open and teetered in the hole. You encouraged it to drop with a jab.

You swiped the cover from the sidewalk before entering the building. Inside, you gathered the deadbolt pieces and dumped them in a potted plant in the dim waiting room. You went to the empty check-in counter to find the area beyond it vacated and dark, save for the blinking lights of the desk phone.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind the reinforced door to your left. With nowhere to run, you put on an innocent expression and curled your shoulders inward. A guard in fatigues tore back the door while another rushed into the waiting room, guns in hand.

“Hands up!” said the closest guard as the door closed behind them.

You raised your hands as your gaze bounced from one to the other. They both had black armbands with MP decorating the side. Military police. Your hunch yesterday about the Humvees had been correct.

“How did you get in here?”

“The front door?” You glanced at it. “The lock’s gone.”

“State your business.”

“I can’t find my-my parents.” You didn’t have to force any nervousness with two guns pointed at you. “They’re not at the hospital. And… and-and the ER told me to check he-here.”

The MPs scowled.

A frenzy of banging and clanging came from behind the door. The MPs turned from you with guns at the ready. You took a step back, heart in your throat.

What were they keeping back there?

The door flew off its hinges, springing off the linoleum by its corner. It ricocheted and crashed into an MP, who toppled to the floor. The door landed to cover his top half. His gun skidded into the waiting room.

“Back away!” yelled the remaining MP. “Hands up!”

You turned your attention away from the gun, thinking he yelled at you. Rather, his attention was on the person in the doorway.

You almost didn’t believe your eyes. You’d expected a demogorgon or some other sort of hellish creature. It was neither. It was Eddie. Unmistakable, even backlit by the severe hallway light. His usually wild hair hung limp around his face. Green scrubs had replaced his clothes.

Eddie hissed at the MP and stomped onto the collapsed door. The MP underneath bleated in protest.

If he kept on like this, he was going to be shot.

“Eddie?”

He turned his focus on you, his blank expression so unlike himself.

The MP shouted, “I said, hands up!”

Eddie’s eyes had you taking another step back. They were like your left: cursed. His skin was waxen like the dead. A tag hung from his big toe. You didn’t know who this was, but he wasn’t your Eddie. He felt like him, looked like him, had his silver flame, but he wasn’t Eddie.

The door was less than a yard away. You could make it out before anyone would reach you. Once outside, you could dash to your car — or lead Eddie away from the hospital.

You pivoted on one foot. A cold body plowed into yours. Hands grabbed your upper arms. The check-in counter dug into your back. Eddie reared up over you.

He’d moved too fast to be natural. In comparison, the MP turned in slow motion.

Eddie pulled the pressure patch down your face.

With a pleased look, he said, “Ah, I see you’re half ours already.”

His breath smelled of old blood.

“Eddie, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Have you join us?”

He leaned in to drag his nose over your cheek, inhaling as he went. You closed your eyes and pinched your mouth shut. His dry, cracked lips skipped up your cheek.

“Pretty, pretty witch.”

“Show me your hands,” ordered the MP.

“Should I let him shoot me?” Eddie asked you.

“Don’t shoot,” you called over his shoulder. “He’s… He’s not hurting me.”

Eddie hummed in your ear. “Take me to Max.”

You couldn’t let him get his hands on her. He’d take her to Vecna. If Vecna had you, Max, and Eddie — all cursed in one manner or another — it would be a recipe for destruction. He’d drain you like a vampire, sacrifice Eddie, and use Max as a pawn. Or maybe something even worse. You couldn’t let any of that happen.

You arched away to look into Eddie’s cursed eyes, so much like your own. You’d tear Vecna limb from limb for this. Apart from El, only you had power enough to destroy him. And you could with the Eradix spell you’d found on Thursday.

“Step away from the girl!”

Eddie snarled and turned his head like a predator. He released your arms before you could protest. You reached for his shirt to keep him with you. Your fingers grasped air.

A triple pop of gunfire had you hunching and covering your head. The waiting room window shattered. A gust of smoke and ash poured into the building. Boots shuffled across the floor. The MP grunted as something clattered.

You wanted to look, make sure Eddie hadn’t been shot, but you needed to get out of there. A wet gurgle and grind turned your stomach. You scurried to the main door, pulling it open. Wind dragged the door from your hand. It thudded against the wall.

With a flinch, you peeked over your shoulder. Eddie stared back. Blood dripped down his chin. The MP hung slack from his hands.

Everything narrowed.

Then everything sharpened as you steadied the main door and sprinted to the street.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

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incorrectbttfquotes · 4 months

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(Lorraine's birthday)

Lorraine: (opening a present) What is this?

Marty: It's an aromatherapy machine. See, you put in oils that are supposed to help you with the stress of the day.

Lorraine: Oh! Alright, well... let's see. So far, I have gotten a spa day, three massages, a meditation class, an ocean pillow, a rage bat, and a little machine that's supposed to trick my nose into calming me down. Why does everyone think I'm so tense?

George: You bit through your night guard.

Verne: (sitting on Lorraine's lap) You're squeezing me too hard.

Linda: And last week, you made the pharmacist cry.

Lorraine: That's because he wouldn't sell me any more Sudafed. The entire family was sick. I was not cooking meth. You know what? I don't even want cake. I really don't appreciate being criticized like this, especially on my birthday.

(They hear a motor buzzing from one of the unopened presents)

Clara: Um, that's my gift. Open later.

#Back to the Future #BTTF #Lorraine Baines McFly #Marty McFly #George McFly #Verne Brown #Linda McFly #Clara Clayton #George x Lorraine #George McFly x Lorraine Baines #George McFly x Lorraine Baines McFly #Incorrect Quotes #Incorrect BTTF Quotes #Source: Modern Family

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eruanna1875 · 6 months

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An Entirely New Kind of Lost (OTGW x BTTF)

Chapter One: The Photograph

For @incomingalbatross :)

~~*~~

Marty gasped, clutching at his chest, and swayed. Memories wavered in his mind—his own hand, vanishing before his very eyes; his heartbeat, fading into silence; the world around him, turning to mist, as the tick of time flatlined.

But his heart at least was beating now. In fact, it was what had startled him so when his eyes flew open. The pounding of it, as sharp in his chest as if it had never been there before. As if it didn't belong there.

Still, a pulse was a good sign. So was solid fingers, which (he doublechecked) he also had. His breathing was the only thing still a little unsteady.

A dream, he told himself, rubbing sleep and nightmare from his eye. Yeah. Yeah, that’s all it is. The whole thing was just…

His bleary vision cleared. And the truth shocked theory from his thoughts.

He wasn’t in his room in 1985. He wasn’t at Doc’s. He wasn’t in his grandparents’ house in 1955. He wasn’t even lying down. No, Marty was standing upright, dressed in this old zoot suit, in the middle of a dark wood. And he had no idea where he was.

“Doc?”

His voice sounded feeble, dwarfed in the midst of these huge, silent trees.

“Da—” He cleared his throat. “Uh, G-George? George, you here? Lorraine?”

The only reply was a distant echo. Of what, he didn’t know.

Marty shook his head, putting a hand to its side. How’d he get here? What, did Biff and his cronies knock him out, drag him into the middle of nowhere? But it didn’t make sense! It was only a minute ago he was at the Enchantment Under The Sea Dance! In fact, he was just playing the guitar, up on the stage, watching his parents as they…

As they…

“No.”

He fumbled around inside his jacket. He searched every pocket, in it or his pants. Then he searched for more pockets. His hunt came up more and more empty. His hands grew more and more frantic.

Marty’s eyes happened to glance up. And there it was. Lying on the ground, face down by the roots of a tree. He must have dropped it.

Plunging to his knees, he snatched the familiar photograph from amidst the leaves. He brushed off the specks of dirt that had dared soil it. Then, holding his breath, Marty turned it over.

It was empty.

The only thing in the picture was the little well at his aunt’s house.

No Dave. No Linda.

No him.

“No.” He folded and unfolded it. “Oh, no.” His out-of-place pulse almost stopped. “No, no, no, please, God, not—”

His voice cracked. Giving up words, he turned over, his back against damp dirt and damp tree, and buried his head in his hands. He felt the photo film against his forehead. He didn’t care.

George and Lorraine had walked away from each other. He saw it. It was the last thing he’d seen before everything faded. All his plans to get them back together, George decking Biff, him playing at the dance, all of it failed. He failed. And now, because of him, his family never came to be.

If any nightmare could’ve been worse than what happened at the mall that night, it was this.

“The Doc was right,” he murmured, voice close to failing too as his hands dropped. “I screwed up, I busted the timeline, and… now we’re all gone. My brother, my sister, me, we’re all…” His head thumped back against the tree trunk. “Geez, we’re not even dead, are we? We’re just…”

Marty opened his eyes.

Lifted his head.

Glanced around.

“Where am I?”

Uncertain, he pulled himself up. He had to brush off a vine or two first (he must’ve sat right down in a bunch of them), but he scrambled to his feet, peering at the landscape surrounding him. And… it didn’t make sense.

“Doesn’t look like Heaven or Hell,” he muttered, running through every description he’d heard, on every Sunday morning of his life. Then, a question asked itself. “Where do people go if they never existed?”

A noise, making him jolt. That didn’t sound like something that existed either. Heck, was it even human? Or would that be worse?

Heart thumping, Marty darted his glance round. No one in sight. No thing either—the noise wasn’t nearly far enough away, but it wasn’t close either. He was… safe? Or not in direct danger, at least.

But he didn’t feel safe. The trees were dark and thick about him. The faint wind tasted like no autumn he’d ever known. This place, wherever it was, didn’t look or sound or feel like anything even close to his hometown.

Everything was strange, and nothing was familiar.

“Okay,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair, “no family, no Hill Valley, no Doc. Totally new.”

A hesitance.

“What now?”

The woods didn’t answer.

Marty sighed sharply and started pacing, marching clockwise. It wasn’t right. It was even less right than spending a whole week in the wrong year. Sure, he’d gotten stranded in the past. Sure, he’d been punched by Biff and given weird looks by everybody else in town. Sure, he’d met his parents and messed up everything for them (and everybody else in his family). But at least he’d known…

His pace slowed like a clock winding down.

At least he’d known.

At least they’d been his town, his parents. At least something had belonged.

His feet almost clicked to a stop.

Now his heartbeat didn’t even belong in his chest.

“What kind of lost is this?” Marty murmured, shaking his head hopelessly. The knots in his throat refused to let him answer.

Blinking back grief, he stared at the photograph. His mind filled it with memories, the ghosts of everything lost to him. They chilled like winter down his collar. They drifted like mist in his eyes. There. Gone, forever. Ghosts.

And suddenly, one ghost came close enough to touch.

“If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.”

Marty’s eyes widened before he even realized he’d said the words aloud. He froze. Then, a breath slipped out, almost smiling as it escaped.

The Doc had told him that. Doc told him. And, heck, Marty said it to George, too. To his dad.

Doc. Dad.

The names made his heart rise.

“I think this qualifies as anything.”

Fists clenched, Marty took off in what seemed the best direction, with stumbling steps and blind hope. What exactly he was doing, even he didn’t know. But he would do it. Or at least, now he could believe he could.

The photograph never left his hand.

~~*~~

Inspired by this post (and its reblog as well):

Not sure when I'll continue, or directly how, but I hope you liked it, my friend!

#writing #my fanfiction #over the garden wall #back to the future #marty mcfly #An Entirely New Kind of Lost #written gifts #@incomingalbatross

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sundove88 · 1 year

Text

Back to The Future (Sundove88’s Version) Casting

In this 1980s sci-fi classic, small-town Californian-Hylian teen Link is thrown back into the '50s when an experiment by his eccentric scientist friend Doctor Light goes awry. Traveling through time in a modified DeLorean car, Link encounters young versions of his parents (Yuri Lowenthal, Erica Mendez), and must make sure that they fall in love or he'll cease to exist. Even more dauntingly, Link has to return to his own time and save the life of Doctor Light.

In this zany sequel, time-traveling duo Link and Doctor Light return from saving Link’s future son from disaster, only to discover their own time transformed. In this nightmarish version of Hill Valley, Link’s father has been murdered and Fawful, Link’s nemesis, has profited. After uncovering the secret to Fawful’s success -- a sports almanac from the future -- Link and Doctor Light embark on a quest to repair the space-time continuum.

In this final chapter, Link obtains a 70-year-old message from the time-traveling Doctor Light, in which he informs Link that he has retired to a small town in the Old West. Link then finds out that the Doc was murdered shortly after sending the letter. In order to save his friend, Link will have to travel back in time, disentangle a lovestruck Doctor Light from a local schoolmarm, and repair the DeLorean -- all while avoiding a posse of gunslingers.

Link as Marty McFly (The Legend of Zelda)

Dr. Light as Doc Brown (Megaman)

Zelda as Jennifer Parker (The Legend of Zelda)

Fawful as Biff Tannen (Mario And Luigi)

Pure Vanilla Cookie as George McFly (Cookie Run)

White Lily Cookie as Lorraine Baines (Cookie Run)

Principal Krupp as Mr. Strickland (Captain Underpants)

Zero as Douglas J. Needles (Megaman X)

Maggie as Clara Clayton (Home on The Range)

Crystal King as Griff Tannen (Paper Mario)

El Mustachio Grande as “Mad Dog” Tannen (Poptropica)

Stoutland as Einstein (Pokemon)

Here’s the hint to my next casting:

😡🐦🎥

#crossover casting #parody #back to the future #bttf #the legend of Zelda #tloz #Megaman #super mario #Mario and Luigi #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #captain underpants #megaman x #Disney #home on the range #paper Mario #poptropica #Pokemon

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the-lone-writer94 · 8 months

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Power of Love

Marty McFly x Jennifer Parker

Summary: Set a day before Marty's time travelling events. Marty feels bored with his life - but he should be happy right? After all he has a great girlfriend and gets to spend all his time playing music.

Rating: 13+

Word count: 2,629

25th October 1985

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

Marty groaned. Another goddamn day.

His eyelids felt heavy as he forced them open, he had forgotten to close the drapes the night before and the sunlight had seeped into the room, blinding him. Pushing himself up from his bed, his hand slammed down on the alarm clock. At least it was Friday and there was a party he would be going to tonight with his girlfriend Jennifer, the thought of it was enough motivation for him to throw himself out of bed and head towards the bathroom.

Once Marty had cleaned himself up, and changed into his usual attire, which consisted of acid wash jeans, a checkered shirt, denim jacket then to top it off his crimson puffer vest. Grabbing his backpack, skateboard and his walkman he proceeded towards the dining room, but pausing in front of his poster of Farrah Fawcett.

“See ya, baby.” He muttered and smirked, before stepping over the threshold and closing the door behind him.

Marty dragged his feet towards the dining room. Everyday was an endless loop of repetition and prediction, his father would sit in the dining table consuming a bowl of cereal with his eyes glued to the television set, his sister Linda would whine about the fact that she doesn’t have a boyfriend, his mother would have a cigarette in one hand with a drink in the other, meanwhile his brother Dave would either still be asleep or taking his sweet ass time to his job at Burger King.

Time management was certainly not a strong suit amongst the McFly residence.

Marty dumped his bag and skateboard on the ground beside an empty chair, where he then slumped himself down into it. He reached for a clean bowl in the middle of the table, then grabbed the box of cereal before drenching it in milk.

The sound of the TV filled the room, as Marty glanced up. The images flashed across the TV screen, unamused by it his gaze returned down to his bowl of cereal as she continued to scoop up tablespoons of it.

In the distance, he heard the sound of thumping footsteps.

“George!” Marty’s mother, Lorraine’s voice shrieked.

George McFly was completely oblivious to his wife’s calling, instead his attention remained fixated upon the TV.

“Goddamnit George!” Lorraine roared again, quickening her steps beside him. “How many times have I told you to call the electrician? The washing machine is busted again.”

Finally, George’s eyes peeled away from the TV. His head was ducked low. “I wanted to Lorraine,” his voice dragged out as if he were too afraid of speaking, “but when I was about to- Biff called me and needed help painting his house.”

“Jesus Christ, George.” Lorraine whined.

Marty rolled his eyes. No doubt, the next few moments would then turn into a bickering match. Well, it was mainly his mother that would do the bickering and his father would avoid eye contact. It was enough for Marty to lose his appetite. He immediately pushed himself away from the table, grabbing his half eaten bowl of cereal he proceeded towards the kitchen where he dumped it down the garbage disposal, leaving the bowl in the sink. Grabbing his backpack and skateboard he got out of there as fast he could.

-----

Before heading to school, Marty had decided to drop by the record store in town. After all, he figured he had a couple of minutes to spare with his abrupt early departure from his home. Plus he was hoping to pick up a new cassette tape for his date with Jennifer tonight.

Marty released his hands from a Chevrolet van he had hitched a ride on. Whilst he was growing up he often felt insecure about his small height, however he had soon discovered the advantage that most of the time, people did not notice him. Once he had latched onto this idea he had used it to his personal gain, crouching down on his skateboard as he held onto the back of various vehicles to get to places quicker, and limiting his physical strength.

Marty halted just before the sidewalk, stepping down hard on the edge of the skateboard. It flipped up vertically, grabbing the skateboard in his hand as he proceeded towards the entrance of the record store.

The smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air. Marty’s gaze scanned the rows of records before him. He stalked towards the end of the store where he reached the line of tapes. Marty’s finger traced over the rows of tapes, he paused over a Once Upon a Time by Simple Minds picking it out from the rack he examined the tape. Whilst Marty was more of a Van Halen type of guy, he knew that Jennifer would love this. Shrugging, he proceeded towards the till, where Jeff had emerged from the back. In his hands he held a box of tapes which he slammed onto the till and groaned. Jeff was middle aged with a receding hairline and an anger problem, but he had always been cool to Marty, mainly because in Jeff’s mind Marty sort of reminded him of how he had once been in his youth.

Jeff’s eyes scanned the tape before him and released a low chuckle. “Really?” He commented.

“It’s for Jennifer, alright,” Marty argued. He took out a couple of crumpled dollars from his denim jacket and counted them, before sliding the amount to Jeff.

“I hear you,” Jeff said, “she must be real special for you to be seen in public with this.”

Marty smirked. “Oh she’s something.”

“That reminds me,” Jeff began before he turned around and grabbed a neon green flier. He handed it to Marty and continued, “don’t say I never helped you with anything. A buddy of mine who runs The Brew, they’re having auditions tonight for the new Friday night band slot.”

“Woah dude, that’s awesome.”

“Yeah dude,” Jeff said with a hint of sarcasm laced upon his words. “I already put in a good word about your band.”

“Wow Jeff, that’s really cool of you dude, but-” Marty hesitated. His palms began to sweat and multiple scenarios bounced through his mind.

“But, what?”

Marty chuckled nervously. “I don’t know if we’re ready,” he stuttered, then handing the flier back to Jeff. “Plus it’s kinda short notice.”

“What? Are you serious? You’ve been begging for ages asking to set you up with connections. The Brew is huge!”

“I know it’s just-” he began trying to form the words. “If we’re not ready then I don’t wanna go out there just yet. We only get one shot to prove we’re something. I want it to be perfect.”

Jeff shrugged. “Well it’s your call,” he said.

An awkward silence lingered. “I’ll run it by the guys.” Marty finally said, before he took the flier and shoved it in his pocket.

“Cool,” Jeff said and smiled. Then his brows furrowed and he cocked his head to the side, “aren’t you meant to be at school now?”

Marty shrugged. “I got time. Left home early for once.” He said nonchalantly before his gaze fixated on the wall clock behind Jeff. Suddenly, Marty froze. His heart skipped a beat. “Why does that clock say 8:30?”

“Cause it’s 8:30.”

Marty gasped, he glanced down at his wristwatch. The goddamn thing had stopped.

“Shit!”

----

“Woah dude that was heavy-” Paul, one of the members of The Pinheads exclaimed.

“Totally dude!” Lee chimed in. “Marty?”

Lost in thought, Marty fixated on the Eddie Van Halen poster hung on the wall opposite him. “Huh?” Marty finally returned to the present, he nodded, “yeah it was heavy.”

“You alright man?” Bobby asked.

“He’s probably thinking about going over to Jennifer’s tonight after the party,” Paul teased, “I saw the Simple Minds tape in your bag.” He continued then paused, “unless you’re making some very questionable music choices.”

Marty chuckled. “Shut up man- and no I wasn’t thinking about Jennifer. I am now.” He said and stood up straighter, rubbing it in the guys’s face that he was the only member of The Pinheads that actually had a girlfriend.

Marty unplugged his guitar, chucking the cord away from him. He proceeded towards the large amplifier where he leaned against it. “Do you guys ever think we’re actually gonna make it?”

An awkward silence lingered, no doubt Marty had opened a gate towards a series of questions that everyone of them had wanted to repress.

“Well, yeah of course I wanna believe that we’re gonna make it someday-” Paul was the first to answer.

Marty saw the skepticism in Paul’s expression, and added, “but?”

“It’s tough man-” Bobby finished off the sentence.

“Maybe if we got an audition or something we could work towards-” Lee suggested.

Immediately, Marty’s hand patted against his back pocket where he had placed Jeff’s flier. The weight of it felt excruciating to bear. A string of thoughts formed in Marty’s mind. Deep down he knew that this was an opportunity and a risk he’d have to take, but there was a block in the road ahead of him, the fear of failure pulled him back and he wasn’t sure if he could take the rejection.

“We gotta make it big man- otherwise how am I gonna date Farrah Fawcett” Lee joked.

Paul rolled his eyes. “Even if we become rockstars you still wouldn’t be able to get Farrah Fawcett.”

“Hey, shut up man!” Lee argued back.

Marty removed his hand away from his pocket and scoffed. “Paul’s right, no way in a million years could you ever get Farrah Fawcett.”

-------

After the party, Marty followed Jennifer on her heels as they crossed the threshold over her house, his ears still ringing from the music that had been blasting on high volume from the speakers. The second Jennifer had informed Marty that her parents were out of town, his mind immediately jumped to the conclusion. It could only mean one thing.

He had been a train wreck almost the entire week. After all, Marty had never actually gone all the way. He had even refrained from drinking too much beer, in the fear that he would be too drunk for this moment.

Jennifer hooked her hand into Marty’s as he guided her up to her bedroom, he felt his hands sweating and he hoped Jennifer wouldn’t notice. Soon after they reached Jennifer’s bedroom, pushing the door open they both entered. Jennifer crossed her bedroom and switched on the lamp that rested on her desk, allowing a faint glow to illuminate her bedroom.

Marty had only been up in Jennifer’s room once, they had been making out before Jennifer’s mother barged in. He had jumped off the bed so fast that he had gotten a headrush. After that he was too freaked out to go back to Jennifer’s house.

Jennifer stood before him, a vision of beauty. He couldn’t imagine any girl more beautiful than she was. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Hmm- I got you the new Simple Minds tape.” He stuttered, and drew out the tape from his jacket.

Jennifer smiled, then stepped towards Marty. “You’re so sweet, Marty.” She said then took the tape from him.

Marty chuckled, running his fingers through his brunette hair. “Yeah, well-”

She fumbled with a stack of cassette tapes laid out beside the stereo, then placed a tape into the deck. Turning around she stalked slowly towards Marty, as she did the music filled the room. “I made something for tonight.”

Jennifer stood before Marty, wrapping her arms around his neck. The only thing that Marty could fixate upon were Jennifer’s plump lips, under the soft glow of the light he could just about see the sparkly baby pink layer of gloss painted across her lips, and how much he wanted to plant his lips upon hers.

“Marty,” Jennifer whispered, her hot breath caressing Marty’s skin.

Slowly, Marty closed the gap between them as he pressed his lips onto Jennifer’s, immediately Jennifer’s lips parted and he slipped his tongue inside deepening the kiss.

Marty’s hands grazed along Jennifer’s thighs then resting them on her hips pulling her closer into him. Jennifer’s grasp tightened around Marty, before she began to guide him towards her bed. They sank down onto the soft velvety mattress, as Jennifer gently pushed Marty down resting on top of him. Marty’s hands traced along Jennifer’s waist as their tongues continued to dance with each other.

Abruptly, Marty’s grip tightened around Jennifer’s waist as he rolled her away, positioning himself on top of her. Jennifer released a giggle, and Marty flashed a smile. He lowered his mouth down onto Jennifer’s neck, leaving a trail of kisses. Jennifer moaned into him, Marty’s fingers traced along Jennifer’s collarbone as his finger hooked around the strap of her dress, his gaze fixating upon Jennifer’s. Gently, he pushed the strap down before repeating the action with the other. Then Marty began to remove his clothing and so did Jennifer. The next few moments, they had become entwined with one another, hoping that this moment would last forever.

-------

At the break of dawn, Marty found Jennifer laying on his chest, his arm draped around her naked body. He shuffled in his position causing Jennifer to stir and awake soon later.

As Jennifer’s eyes opened, she fixated upon Marty’s face. She smiled sweetly, as images from the night before replayed in her mind.

“Hey,” Marty said quietly.

“Hey,” she responded.

Marty peered down at his wristwatch and then yawned.

“What time is it?” Jennifer asked.

“It’s almost seven.” He responded.

Jennifer groaned. “My parents will be home anytime soon.”

“That’s my cue then.”

Just before Marty was about to remove himself from the bed, Jennifer held onto his arm. “Last night was,” she began and then paused.

“I know.” Marty said, and smiled, before he lowered himself and planted a kiss on Jennifer’s lips.

Later on Marty found himself stalking the streets on an early Saturday morning, and somehow found himself outside of Jeff’s record store. He figured he’d roam about for a bit before heading home, after all he was in no rush to return to his family.

Pushing the doors into Jeff’s shop, he was immediately greeted by Jeff slumped behind the till. It took Jeff several moments before he had the energy to look up.

“What are you doing here so early?” Jeff asked in confusion as he reached for the styrofoam cup beside him and took a huge gulp of his coffee.

Marty shrugged. “I was already up.” He responded, then added, “why are you so tired?”

“I literally just left The Brew an hour ago,” he said, then his eyes narrowed, “you never showed up for the audition.”

“I told you it was too short notice, the band said they weren’t ready.” Marty lied.

Jeff shook his head. “Well you missed out kid. When we were having auditions last night a big shot record executive was actually there. Signed a band on the spot.” Jeff explained, then paused. “That coulda been you.” He said and looked Marty dead in the eye.

After some time had passed, Marty had walked out of Jeff’s store dragging his feet across the concrete sidewalk he paused in front of a garbage can. His hand reached into his back pocket where the flier had taken up home there, drawing it out he unfolded it. Staring at the now creased and crumpled flier he thought long and hard.

Marty sighed. Couldn’t believe he had let fear consume him into going after what he wanted. Out of anger he tore apart the flier and dumped it into the garbage can, wishing he could go back in time.

#back to the future fanfic #marty mcfly fanfic #marty mcfly x jennifer parker #fanfic

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