#marty's diner

[synthsays]

Sketch I most likely won't finish

Sry if you can't decipher what it is ;-;

Basicly its the scene where Marty is sitting down next to (presumably) dead Doc, and looks like he's gonna break down, but then Doc gets up. And the ink from the letter dripping down :D

[hostilecityshowdown]

reading this tag from @razor-ramons-thighs in kid's voice as he cries to marty in the passenger seat of the man's beat up shitkicker volvo

[corvid-gremlin-official]

got a flat tire while trying to leave a Scheduled Hangout with my good friend

so now i’m sitting in a downtown parking lot waiting for my mom to show up so we can call AAA

this is fine

[yazmarina]

backburner

for hit play, a drabble event.

—"cause maybe you'll finally choose me after you've had more time?" (backburner by niki)

pepe marti (f2) x gn!reader

warnings/notes: mild angst, university au, ollie is the ex-boyfriend, pepe is the rebound

a/n: i'm back! i've healed enough hopefully to come back to writing <3

You don't mean to do this to him.

You know he deserves better and that no amount of empty promises from you would truly appease him. You told him you weren't ready and that you just needed a warm body to sleep next to at night. Not your words, exactly, but he understood.

It never got easier, the guilt impossibly heavier every time you tell him you need him. But he's there and he's smiling, telling you it's okay and that he's happy to be whatever you need him to be.

Pepe tucks some of your hair behind your ear, laying a tender hand against your cheek.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Pepe asks, running his thumb gently across the skin of your face, just below your eye. You're not crying, at least not yet, but Pepe had been there for nearly all your sobbing fits that it's just instinct for him at this point. To wipe away your tears, to make sure you're okay.

You shrug. "There's nothing to talk about. Just had a bad day."

Pepe nods, silently pulling you into a hug. You inhale his scent, boyish and mixed with the laundry detergent he and his roommate share on laundry days. His sheets smell like it, too. You know the smell well enough, having burrowed under Pepe's blanket nearly every night since you and your ex broke up.

"Did you see him today?" Pepe asks, pulling you further into the room, stopping only to maneuver you down onto his bed.

"Of course, I did. We have the same major and all the same classes," you say rather despondently.

You peer up at Pepe who's still standing, towering over you now that you're seated on his plush mattress. He smiles again, apologetic. Maybe he's sorry for you. Maybe he's sorry for himself.

"Do you wanna have dinner?" You ask, threading your fingers between Pepe's. You see his face light up and it almost hurts you, the way he doesn't know.

He doesn't know that you're only asking because you overheard Ollie tell Kimi that he'll be at that diner just outside campus with a couple of other friends. He doesn't know that the reason why you're so upset is because Ollie had his arm around another one of your classmates, a pretty blonde who you knew had a thing for your now ex-boyfriend ever since orientation days.

The words spring out of you before you can stop them.

"I was thinking we could get milkshakes at that diner just outside of campus," you suggest, pulling Pepe down to sit beside you.

He, of course, obliges. He always does. Pepe somehow doesn't know how or when to say no to you.

"Sure," Pepe easily agrees. He leans in and plants a soft kiss on your lips. You let out a sigh, a half giggle, mouth spreading into a grin when you feel him gently nudge you up the bed.

You let yourself get lost in his touch for a while, arms limp as he tugs your shirt off, your own fingers tracing the outlines of his bare chest after he tosses his sweater to the other side of the room. He's kissing down your neck now, and it feels good, feels right.

Your eyes close and suddenly, it's not Pepe who you're seeing. His tan skin is replaced with something fairer, lighter freckles smattered against his nose, almost red. His hair is curly and his accent is tinged with the barest of Italian inflection.

Ollie.

Your eyes fly open and you feel your body still, heart hammering against your chest. Pepe must feel the rigid reluctance from you as he stops, hand halfway behind your back, reaching for the clasp of your bra.

"You still with me?" Pepe asks, voice quiet. He pulls back to study your face, big brown eyes almost pleading as he looks at you.

Your heart rate evens out and you take a few seconds to look back at the face staring down at you.

Pepe.

Pepe is with you at this moment. His skin pressed against yours. His biceps shifting beneath your hands. It's Pepe that holds you now. Even if it's just for the rest of the night. Until you've decided you've had enough and you'd rather go back to stalking your ex's socials.

"Yeah," you whisper, cradling one side of Pepe's face. He leans against your palm, eyes fluttering shut as he revels in your touch.

"Good," Pepe mumbles back.

[ahaura]

Bones and All (2022) dir. Luca Guadagnino

Hélène Cixous, The Love of the Wolf

Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

Maud Ellmann, The Hunger Artists

Catherynne M. Valente, The Bread We Eat in Dreams, “The Red Girl”

Marty McConnell, The Best American Poetry (2014) ed. David Lehman & Terrance Hayes, “vivisection (you’re going to break my heart)”

Start Web Weaving Text & Image IDs:

[Image ID (1 out of 6): Maren is eating Lee; the shot is focused on Maren. The shot is in black and white. End ID]

Hélène Cixous, The Love of the Wolf

[Text ID: I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow. End ID]

[Image ID (2 out of 6): Maren is clutching her father's father's coat to her chest on her bed as she cries, shortly after he abandons her. End ID]

Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

[Text ID: I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it—to be fed so much love I couldn’t take any more. Just once. End ID]

[Image ID (3 out of 6): Maren and Lee sit across from each other in a diner; Maren is not looking at Lee and Lee is looking at her as he drinks coffee. End ID]

Maud Ellmann, The Hunger Artists

[Text ID: Since sexuality originates in seating, it is always haunted by the imagery of ingestion, having neither an object nor a territory proper to itself. Yet eating, in its turn, exceeds the biological demand for nourishment, for it expresses the desire to possess the object unconditionally. The infant sees his stomach as a safe in which he hoards his loot, thus learning his first lessons in private property. The genesis of secrecy may also be attributed to eating, for it is well known that the best way to keep a secret is to eat the evidence. {Highlighted} The stomach is a place almost as private as the grave. {End Highlight} End ID]

[Image ID (4 out of 6): In the dark of night outside of their blue pickup truck, Lee holds Maren's face in his hand. His face is bloody; he is shirtless. Maren's face is not visible to the camera. End ID]

Catherynne M. Valente, The Bread We Eat in Dreams, “The Red Girl”

[Text ID: I love you but there are things older and murkier than love. Things that live not in the heart but the entrails. I don’t want you to see me with the wolf. I don’t want you to see what he does to me. I don’t want you to see what I do to him. End ID]

[Image ID (5 out of 6): In daylight, Maren holds Lee; the viewer cannot see Lee's face. End ID]

Marty McConnell, The Best American Poetry (2014) ed. David Lehman & Terrance Hayes, “vivisection (you’re going to break my heart)”

[Text ID:When I say eat me I mean suck the bones clean, leave nothing

for the waiting, nothing for the vultures or the travelers to come. End ID]

[Image ID (6 out of 6): Maren is eating Lee; Maren's face is out of the shot but the viewer can see her hand on Lee's face as he screams. He is holding her hand to her face. The shot is in black and white. End ID]

End Web Weaving post Text & Image IDS.

[godlywh0re]

The Devil Wears A Suit And Tie

Rust Cohle x Reader (if you squint)

Word Count: 1.3K

Notes: I was listening to the song "The devil wears a suit and tie" and had a sick idea in my head, needed to get it out as soon as possible so let me know what you think :)

It had started out innocently enough. Rust watched as Billy Lee Tuttle strided out of Quesada’s office. An air of debonair followed the man like a second shadow almost making him miss the quiet woman following behind him, almost. Rust scanned over her quick, young, late 20s at most, pretty but unassuming in her demeanor. His eyes, always flickering beneath the surface, caught the way she carefully avoided looking directly at Reverend Tuttle. He filed it away, like he did everything else, his mind a database of half-formed connections waiting to coalesce into a larger picture. 

“Reverend, reverend, please come quick…”

She was quiet as the reverend spoke to them, gaze watching between Marty and himself. Their interaction was brief, she gave a polite smile while the reverend shook their hands. Rust let his gaze fall to the necklace she wore. A soft gold chain, hanging from it was a triangular pendant with three pearls sat in another triangle formation. For a fraction of a second, a curiosity tugged at his chest. It pushed away as quickly as the irritation grew. The thought of a task force possibly coming in on the case was quick to occupy his thoughts.

“ ‘Cause I got something to admit…”

The case involving Reggie and Dewall Ledoux was all over the news. She watched it unfold from behind her desk, the tension rippling through the office like a storm on the horizon. Whispers of the detective's names were spoken in hushed tones. Something cold washed over her as she turned her eyes to Tuttle who wore a sullen expression as he watched the news relaying the events. He turned the television off, his gaze cut to her sharp, whatever emotion that he had once portrayed gone from his face as he told her to schedule a meeting with Governor Tuttle. 

“I met a man out in the sticks…”

One evening, after another long day, she found herself at a small diner on the edge of town, picking at a plate of cold fries. The door chimed as it opened, and she looked up, surprised to see Detective Cohle walking in. She wasn’t sure if he’d remember her from when they first met but as his eyes locked with hers, a flicker of recognition passed through them. He hesitated for a moment before making his way over, his movements slow and deliberate as he sat in the booth across from her. They exchanged polite niceties, the kind of guarded conversation people have when they know they share something deeper but can’t quite name it. 

They made small talk, how she was doing, where she went to college, her job as a secretary for the reverend. In the stillness of their small talk Rust exhaled a slight breath, as if he had decided on something. After a while, he spoke, his voice low and gravelly. "Tuttle’s involved in something deeper, something darker. It ain’t just about politics or religion. It’s organized, systematic." 

He took a deep drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke like it was a confession. "You don’t get to where he is without dirty hands. Men like him don’t wear suits ‘cause they’re righteous. They wear ‘em ‘cause it hides the blood."

She looked at him, startled, her face pale under the light of the diner. The theories were outlandish to her ears, almost paranoid. The Reverend had been nothing but kind to her, offering her a good job and stability. Rust’s voice was steady, but there was a fire in his eyes she hadn’t seen before.

"Rust, that’s..." she trailed off, struggling to find the words. "That’s insane."

"Maybe," he said, his voice hardening, "but you’re too smart to not feel that something’s off. You know it."

They parted that night with the tension thick between them, as crazy as his ideas sounded, something made her stomach turn with dread. 

“Foolish, foolish was I...”

A few weeks later, Rust shows up to the office for an official meeting with Tuttle. She watched as he entered the building, his presence tense, his face more worn than usual. After the meeting, he approached her desk, his expression unreadable.

He leaned down, his voice barely above a whisper. "You need to get out," he murmured. "Tuttle’s dangerous. You don’t know what you’re mixed up in."

Her pulse quickened, but she kept her face neutral, not wanting to draw attention. “Rust, I—”

“I’m not asking,” he interrupted, his gaze piercing. “I’m telling you. Get out while you still can.”

Before she could respond, Tuttle appeared in the hallway, his gaze sweeping over them. Rust straightened, his face hardening into a mask of indifference, but she saw the way Tuttle’s eyes lingered on their exchange. The reverend smiled, but there was something behind it—something darker.

“Damn my foolish eyes…”

She didn’t see Rust after the meeting with Tuttle. To her disappointment, he never showed up at the diner again either. Though Rust might have been gone, his words never left her head. A deep pit grew in her stomach every time she showed up to work, stomach twisting whenever reverend Tuttle flashed her a charming smile. 

“Cause that man’s lessons had a price, oh sweet price..”

Tuttle offered to drive her home one night after a late meeting. She hesitated but accepted, not wanting to raise any suspicion. The resignation letter that sat neatly in a folder on her desk gone untouched, she would give it in tomorrow. Tomorrow she will be free of this sick feeling in her stomach. 

The drive was quiet, the only sound was the soft hum of the radio. A haunting melody filled the silence between them, her fingers clenched on her lap. Tuttle drove steadily, his eyes fixed on the road, but after a long silence, he spoke. “You used to talk to Detective Cohle quite a bit, didn’t you?” His tone was casual, but something in the air felt off.

She glanced at him, her stomach tightening. "Yeah, we talked sometimes," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "He had some… interesting theories."

“Oh?” Tuttle’s voice was calm, almost too calm. “What kind of theories?”

She forced a laugh, trying to play it off. “Crazy stuff. He thought you were involved in some kind of conspiracy. He believed you were hiding something.”

Tuttle chuckled, but it was a hollow sound. “And what did you think of all that?”

She shrugged, her stomach twisting with unease. “I didn’t believe him. I mean, come on. It’s ridiculous.”

Tuttle smiled, but his eyes were cold. He didn’t say anything else, just kept driving, turning down a dark, unfamiliar road. The farther they went, the more her heart began to race.

“Reverend?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Where are we going?”

His smile remained, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The song continued to play, the chords hanging heavy in the air.

“My sweet soul, everlasting, my very own eternal light…”

Fear gripped her, the realization sinking in. Rust had been right all along.

      · · ·

As Rust Cohle moved deeper into the heart of Carcosa, the air grew heavier, thicker, like something ancient and rotten clung to the very walls around him. The winding path ahead narrowed into what Errol had called the "Bride's Path"—a sickening name that made Rust's skin crawl. The stench of decay grew stronger as he moved forward, stepping lightly, senses heightened. The walls seemed to close in on him, suffocating, and then the path opened into a small, cavernous chamber.

 Rust’s eyes swept across the grotesque scene before him—mummified corpses. They were wrapped in bandages, old and tight against their bones, antlers protruding from their wrapped skulls. A glint of gold on one of the corpses caught in his sight. He stepped closer, eyes narrowing as he focused on the necklace that draped around the shriveled neck of the corpse. His breath hitched in his throat. It was a simple gold chain, the gold dirty and tangled, with a triangular pendant and three pearls in another triangle formation.

“The devil wears a suit and tie, saw him driving down the 61 in early July…”

[rose-of-pollux]

SO

I saw the Back to the Future musical again today. Partly because last time, it was a whim when I was stranded in the city and it was a last-minute “salvage the day” deal and I subsequently wasn’t in the best headspace, and secondly because now that Roger Bart is a Fave, I wanted to see him in the role again with newfound admiration.

The show is absolutely just as amazing, if not moreso, the second time around. And Roger and Casey Likes made it fresh with their ad-libbing—most of it was for laughs (Casey got Roger to break at one point and it was beautiful), but there was one played for drama, just when Doc heads out of the diner to see Marty off to the dance; Doc was bantering with Marty on his way out the door, but he pauses just before leaving and this happens—

Doc [softly and genuinely]: …Drive safely. Marty: [choking up as he writes the note warning Doc about the radiation poisoning] Me:

It was a beautiful moment and an all around great show. Roger really taps into that vulnerable side of Doc that we rarely get to see (he still reaches out and squeezes your heart during “For the Dreamers”) and shows how deep a character he is. And once again, he has revitalized my muse in the process.

(Also, when he’s out of character, Roger gives out peace signs like he’s an anime protagonist, and I love him for it)

So yes, it’s still amazing and I’m already planning to see it a third time 💜

[writing-with-yours-truly]

Wattpad Transfer. "I think I just met my dad in 1955" Marty [Back to the Future] x Reader

Warnings: Innuendo

Additional information: No use of Y/N, code name, inspired by the Bo Burnham song.

Requested by: N/A

...

1955. The year Doc Brown thought of his time machine. The year the town hall's clock had stopped working. The year Marty's parents met. You and Marty were currently in an-old fashioned diner, relaxing your nerves from what the past few hours had brought. Doc Brown getting killed by terrorists -who were looking for him-, traveling to 1955, and now trying to find him.

You and your friend went to the telephone booth that the counterman had directed you to, and looked for Doc Brown's name. "He's on here." You pointed out his name. A phone number was next to his name.

Marty dialed it, and waited for an answer. No answer. You peered past your shoulder, and there was the counterman, looking at the both of you.

"Marty, I don't think he's there. Let's just get a drink and cool off a moment." You both left the phone booth and sat down on the bar stools cemented in front of the counter. People gave you and Marty funny looks. They already gave him crap on his jacket that reminded them as a life jacket. You couldn't help but laugh.

For a moment, you had looked around the place. The colors were vibrant, and the floors were checkered. It was pretty quiet. The only people near you was a man sitting at the bar stool next to Marty, eating his cereal -who you must admit looked like his dad- and another young man sitting next to him, writing what looked like an assignment.

The history lectures did not tell you how different 1955 was. Not at all. "Can I get a Pepsi Free?" Marty asked the counterman. "Yeah, I wish I could have it for free, too." You sighed and shook your head. "Just...a drink without any sugar in it, please."

"I'll take an orange juice," you say. The counterman immediately went to work on our drinks. As the two of you waited for your beverages, you decided to have small talk. "So, you think Doc will believe us?"

Marty had an unreadable look, but sure enough, responded, "I hope so. He's the only one who knows what to do. Two point one gigawatts! Where could we get that? Only Doc would know!" He covered his face with his hands. "I should have grabbed the plutonium."

You put a hand on his shoulder, and reassured him. "Marty, you couldn't have thought of plutonium at a time like that. I know you. Doc was the only person, and the only thing you were thinking of."

You both drifted into silence, and the door opened, a group of kids walked in. "Biff?" You and Marty asked yourselves as you watched him walk by to stop in front of the other two people sitting.

The orange juice and sugarless drink were placed down, but neither of you paid attention to it. Too worried about Biff's intentions.

"Hey, McFly." He said, snottily, looking at the man. So is that George? He continued eating his cereal. Marty just looked at Biff, confused. "McFly, hello?" He started knocking on the young boy's head with his knuckles. "What, Biff?" George asked. "You got my homework done?" Biff asked. "Is that my dad?" Marty leaned over to ask you in a whispered tone. "I'm pretty sure." You answered.

"Why can't you do your own damn homework, Biff?" The other man asked, looking over at the standing bully. "Oh, what a surprise. The coward has the guts to speak up to me." He grabbed a fistful of his shirt. "Hey, hey stop!" You exclaimed. Biff released his shirt and glared at you. "And who exactly do you think you are, gorgeous?" You mentally threw up, and answered, "I'm Beatrice."

"Beatrice," Biff says in a weird voice. "Such a gorgeous name for such a beautiful girl." Marty looked like he was about to snap at him. "Hey, didn't your parents teach you how to treat a lady?" His gang gasped, and Biff's face turned red in anger. "Who do you think you are?"

"Her boyfriend." Marty answered confidently, putting and arm around your shoulders, causing you to blush. Him? Your boyfriend? "Oh well, I can change that quickly." Biff said in a dirty tone, leaning close to you. You turned your head to the right, looking at the 'coward' Biff referred to. Your father. And George. Marty's dad. Your dad looked at you and did a half nod. "Hey, Biff. Leave her alone." He warned. "Oh yeah? Why should I?"

"Because if you don't you really will regret coming here today. You don't ever disrespect people when I'm around." You lean your head next to Marty's ear. "I think I just met my dad in 1955."

[thejagermeister]

back to the future but they're all monsters, because i'm predictable:

marty passes as human but he's a banshee, able to channel his voice/guitar into a magical blast (or just a really powerful performance)

doc is the sandman, putting people to sleep and observing their dreams. his inventions take inspiration from the dreams he watches.

lorraine is a selkie. her natural form is that of a seal but she much prefers her more human-like form. her sealskin is magically disguised as a cardigan.

(she tries her best to subtly let marty "take" her sealskin and he freaks out every time. biff tries to snatch it every chance he gets because he can smell the magic on it. at the dance, george questions whether she's too warm in her cardigan and she immediately hands it over.)

george is a changeling, deposited at his parents' doorstep when he was a baby. he doesn't know why he was abandoned. every famous changeling tells tales about being switched with a human child for an ulterior motive, but george doesn't know his purpose.

goldie is a sphinx. he used to "protect" the diner (mostly just cleaned it, because lou didn't really care who was served there) but was elected mayor and proudly protects the clocktower.

jennifer is half-mermaid— she looks fairly human, but she can breathe underwater and has a naturally talented singing voice.

biff is a werewolf. he has the unique ability to half-transform even when the moon isn't full, which allows him to intimidate his classmates. he's threatened his victims many times to watch out, or he'll go after them the next full moon— his grandma doesn't care about protective measures and lets him roam free.

3-D is a basilisk, turning anyone who looks at his eyes to stone for a day. he wears his glasses to prevent this from happening, and tries his best to hide the fact that he's a monster at all.

slick is a sigbin, who can suck blood from someone's shadow and turn invisible. he only takes small amounts at a time, often going invisible to drink from multiple people while biff and 3-D distract them.

[kenobers]

Gangs of Coruscant | mobster!Obi-Wan Kenobi x fem!Reader

Chapter Two: The Godfather Espresso Blend

← Chapter One

After her run in with Coruscant's most notorious crime lords, reader finds herself working in one of his diners. Obi-Wan makes her feel anything but easy. However, sometimes he's a little less frightening when he's sweaty. tw: Mafia!AU, sweaty Obi-Wan a/n: I actually meant for this and the next part to be the same chapter, but this was so warm and gooey that I figured I'd separate it from when shit starts to get real. Disclaimer: Yes, this is a romanization of the concept of the mafia, but it is also a fictionalization based on the structure of the Jedi Order. No character in this story is based on any real life mobster and no plot point is based on an actual organized crime story. I am aware that most crime lords do not look like Obi-Wan Kenobi nor am I encouraging anyone to actually try and get with a made man (or woman). Please direct all complaints to Marty Scorsese. God Bless.

Obi-Wan paid well.

Technically it was the Jedi Order that paid well. Legally, it was Dex. But your checks always came hand delivered and signed by Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

It turned out you liked the waitressing job much more than you thought you would. If the diner was a front for mob activity, as you'd originally thought, that was none of your business.

Dex was a good boss. He was a big, burly man with a booming voice, and his bushy mustache covered much of his lower face, but you could always tell he was grinning. You were certain the man had lived every lifetime possible. He had a never ending slew of stories and postcards from every system lined the walls of the diner.

For the most part, the folks who frequented the diner seemed to be alright. The regulars had begun to learn your name - well, except for one elderly gentleman, who had thin hair tied in gold colored plates that reached his shoulders and had managed to call you by every variation and sound-a-like except for your actual name. You didn't hold it against the chap. You just appreciated the effort and the hefty tips. It was nice to have some semblance of community.

At first, being in the diner had felt suffocating. You would be lying if you said Obi-Wan didn’t make you nervous. The man had a kind smile and his eyes made you a little weak in the knees. He was beautiful, he was considerate and, once again, he paid well. 

Still, you couldn’t ignore the fact that he was keeping you here to surveil you. Or that he carried a gun with him. Or that he was an infamous crime lord. Maker knew you were paranoid about doing something to make him suspicious. You knew that’s why he dropped by so often; he was waiting for you to slip up. 

There were some days, however, where you could almost pretend this wasn’t the case. Like when he came in during lunch one afternoon. Instead of the usual tan and white suits, he wore a gray tank top with a Mandolorian band printed across it and a faded pair of green basketball shorts. His auburn hair still looked strategically placed, even when sweat had plastered it across his gleaming forehead. 

“Obi-Wan!” Dex greeted, shuffling out of the kitchen with a plate of food in each hand. “I take it you’re here for some protein?”

Obi-Wan laughed, “unfortunately not, although I wish I had the time. I’m just here to pick up coffee for Anakin and Ahsoka.” 

“Ah, (yn) will be right on that,” Dex nodded your way and realized you’d been starring. You dropped your head, then glanced up as if it was the first time you’d noticed him. However, you could tell from the amusement on his face that the silly little ruse hadn’t worked. 

Who could blame you for looking? It wasn't like a mobster in Adidas was an every day sight.

He slid down the counter to where you were stationed by the coffee pot and handed you a slip of paper with two orders on it. The first neatly written request for a white mocha with almond milk, complete with a smiley face and a thank you. The second was for a large coffee with a lethal amount of extra espresso shots and a particular amount of vanilla flavoring written in undeniably male handwriting. 

“I figured it might be easier just to have them write it down,” he said. Over the corner of the sticky note, you caught sight of his forearms, each adorned with a brown leather bracelet, and prayed that he couldn’t see your eyes popping out of your head. 

“Thank you,” you managed to whisper, getting to work on the order.

Your hands followed the instructions with ease, but the focus didn’t meet your eyes. They resisted the urge to turn back to the sweaty crime lord, acutely aware that he was studying you.

“I never asked what brought you to Coruscant.” 

You peered up at him like a deer in the headlights. As if you were unsure whether or not he was speaking to you, you glanced behind you - only to realize you were the only one behind the counter. 

“Well,” you started, pausing to add just the right amount of syrup to the first order. “I actually came here to work at the hospital.” 

There was an awkward moment of silence, before Obi-Wan sheepishly went, “Ah.” 

You gave him a small smile. It wasn’t his fault you’d lost the job you’d uprooted yourself for. Still, he looked a little guilty. 

“But,” you continued, moving to the second order. “It hasn’t been bad working here. A fresh start is a fresh start in any package.” 

He hummed thoughtfully and your heart stuttered a little at the musicality. 

“That’s an excellent philosophy. I don’t think I could’ve mustered up the same amount of patience when I was your age.”

Heat rose to your face. You managed to squeak out a little “thanks!” as you whirled around to grab the vanilla syrup, pretending to fumble for it before turning back to him. Maker knows why this conversation was giving you heart palpitations. 

Because his arms are, like, really strong, one voice in your head giggled. Another protested, or it’s just because he’s showing some interest in you. A third one shut them up, it’s because he’s hot, scary and he’s showing interest in you. 

“And what about sign language? How did you end up interpreting of all things?”

You looked up at him, a tad surprised. He wore a soft smile and seemed unnervingly laid back. There was a curious glint in his blue eyes, but it wasn’t prying, like it had been that night in the warehouse. He was genuinely conversing with you. 

“I was a bit of a hypochondriac and thought I was going deaf when I had an ear infection in high school, so I started learning some basic phrases. Then I just found a passion for it. It’s a fascinating language and culture, really.” 

You blinked, realizing you’d said all that while making direct eye contact with him - the longest you’d probably looked him in the eye since meeting him.

He chuckled, capping the lid on Anakin’s espresso death. 

“That’s admirable, my dear,” he said easily, placing both drinks in a carrier and tucking a generous tip into the metal jar. “And very cute.” 

You could’ve melted into a puddle of coffee right then and there.

However, it wasn’t enough to win you over. You couldn’t let your guard down around him.  

“He knows you aren’t trouble, doll,” Dex had assured you after Obi-Wan had dropped off your third paycheck a few days later. “He just has to be vigilant, he’ll do you no harm.” 

You hadn’t realized how tense you had become until Dex spoke. You sighed, “I know, he just….he makes me a little nervous.” 

Dex let out a hard laugh. “You wouldn’t be the first pretty girl to say that about him.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully as you opened the envelope. Two checks fluttered to the freshly cleaned counter. A yellow sticky note was attached to the bottom one. You frowned - what if this was a test. 

Your fingers shook slightly as you picked up the sticky note, turning it over in your hand to read it. 

Meant to drop this off last week, forgive me. 

You’re doing very well. :) 

O.K

You traced the smiley face, feeling heat rush to your own face. Then you picked up the second check. 

$1,000 made out to (yn) (ln)

For an excellent first month. 

     X    Obi-Wan Kenobi

Shock didn’t begin to cover how you were feeling. You pressed the sticky note to your racing heart. It was probably just to ensure your silence and cooperation. However, you knew he had no reason to do that. It was more likely...

Well, frankly, it was more likely that this was just an act of appreciation and kindness from a man who had the means to do so.

Those little voices in your head collectively sighed.

Maybe it's okay to fawn over a crime lord sometimes.

[greenfiend]

woahh!! please elaborate on Jim Hopper and Lonnie Byers swapping places!!! im so intrigued 👀

Yes yes yes anon I will be happy to discuss this! 😁

Basically my theory is this:

Hopper is Will’s biological father, not Lonnie. Lonnie “stole” Will away just like he (spoilers for TFS) stole baby Jesus from the Nativity Scene. And Hopper? He’s left with false memories of “Sarah” (whom is actually altered memories of Will… maybe I’ll make a separate post about that sometime). Thus, Lonnie and Hopper “swapped places”.

Another spoiler for TFS: Joyce and Hopper became close and literally had plans to move to Mexico together but the plans fell through and Joyce remained with Lonnie (for some reason). The last scene with Joyce and Hopper featured them talking at the diner Joyce worked at during Christmas time. Christmas… as in the day of Jesus’s birth. The association here with not only Jopper and Christmas but Lonnie and stealing baby Jesus from a Nativity scene (aka a scene of Jesus’s birth!!!) is obviously a hint. Plus that scene above where Joyce looks at a pregnant doll’s belly and says “Jesus” pictured above. 🤭 None of this is a coincidence… I’m just saying…

@erikiara80 has a great post here about Hopper and Joyce previously being together and Hopper being Will’s true father.

I also have to mention my “flayed Hopper” theory posts. Now, whether or not you agree with the flayed Hopper theory, you have to admit that Hopper is very much connected to Will. There are so many subtle clues to this!

Here are some other nods to some similarities between Lonnie and Hopper:

Hopper lived in the “big city” then returned to small town Hawkins. Lonnie lived in small town Hawkins then left for Indianapolis (a “big city”). Almost as if they literally swapped places/locations.

As a lovely anon pointed out previously… they both own Oldsmobiles which seems like a kind of random thing to show us… especially since these scenes are a mere episode apart from each other.

If you’re familiar with Back to the Future anon (specifically part II), you’ll know that Biff (the villain) basically manages to become Marty’s father. So… if ST continues the trend of heavily referencing these movies… I wouldn’t be surprised if the story plays out this way.

[cherrysfanfics-ily]

Omggg I saw you did grease could you do headcannons for doody with a French male reader

Here is your request! Thank you so much for being patient, and I hope you love it!! This is my first time doing headcannons like these, though I absolutely loved doing it!!

If there are any mistakes, please let me know!! <33

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Doody x Male! Reader

Word Count: 782

Warning: A tiny mention of the laws in the 1950s (didn't go into much detail)

before dating:

He was starstruck when he first saw you, Sonny had to tap his shoulder to get his attention back on the group

You had walked up to the school with Sandy, your cousin, and you caught his eye. He also caught your eye, but Sandy dragged you inside before you could look more

He stumbled over his words upon first speaking to you, especially after hearing your accent

If you allow it, he will have his arm resting around your shoulder most times under the guise of relaxing and not just wanting to touch you in some way

He is THE person to go and gossip with, you guys talk about what you’ve been hearing around school lately

People in the school really enjoy your accent so they go to you for advice, kind of like an excuse but because they assume you give good advice, and while you do share advice with them you also run to Doody and tell him the drama you were told

You accidentally broke one of his plastic water guns one day, and he let you get away with it but when Putzie broke one he forced him to get another for him (you also got another one for him but he told you, you didn’t have to)

If you are hanging with the group before he joins everyone for lunch, you are the first he acknowledges before acknowledging everyone else

You help him with his homework and classwork and he pays attention to everything you say

You are a T-bird so you're around the gangs a lot, and out of the ladies you're closest to Marty and you confide in her about your crush on Doody

He was the first to ask you out with the help of the other t-birds and Frenchy

He had Frenchy help reserve the diner for just the two of you and had the guy's help set it up to be romantic. There is music playing, a couple of candles, a few flowers, and a vinyl you were talking to him about

You definitely flirted with him in French and loved seeing him confused about what you said, you also refused to tell him yourself telling him to figure it out

when dating:

His love languages are touch and acts of service 

He loves holding your hand, or even just your pinky, and he loves doing things and getting you things that you mention you like

You call him 'My love, Honey, and a few French nicknames' and he calls you 'Beloved, My love, and dear'

His parents absolutely love you and always tell him so, which he relays back to you, and invites you to family game nights

He has always loved to hear you speak French, but he loves it so much more once you start dating 

especially when you call him a nickname in French

He loves sharing his lunch when you forget yours

He’d just plop down next to you and put his lunch in the middle of your guys’ laps

He sneaks little notes into your bag hoping you won’t notice (you do but you don’t say anything till after you guys meet back up)

You save the notes he gives you in an old box in your room, and when he finds it he is stuck to your side 

He gets you flowers and replaces them whenever they die (he likes seeing them in your room when he comes over)

He always hides you behind him when Bermudo and his gang come around as a way to protect you (even when he knows you can protect yourself, he just doesn't care)

You were the first to say I love you first, he was always too nervous and stumbled over his words when he tried

He had walked up to your front door with you, and you just told him, and he was blushy and nervous after you told him, but he said it back

You guys don't hide your guy's relationship, but you guys also don't announce it to everyone

there are some people who figured it out but give dirty looks towards you both, though you guys just ignore them

If it goes more than words doody won't hesitate to fight for you both, and neither are the gangs

You and Doody are following along with the laws and fighting to be together publicly 

If you guys ever fight, he will need time to calm down, but once he has, he’ll come back and talk it out

You guys met up at prom with matching ties, though you did not engage in the mooning (you did cover for him)

All in all, you guys love each other very much and he's just very much in love with you

[knickynoo]

marty loves his father just so so much. to the point where his father's death, even in a timeline that they were already going to have to fix, was the point where Marty is the most emotionally devastated in an entire trilogy full of tragedies. how immediately we see him stand up for his father when he so much as thinks Old Biff is calling him a loser in the Cafe 80's. how proud he is both times he sees his dad finally stand up to Biff, the moment he always wished would happen his entire life. the sheer emotion in his voice when he says "my father's alive!" marty loves his dad so much.

cannot believe I forgot him literally jumping in front of a moving car to save his dad with zero hesitation, as if it wasn't the main catalyst for the entire plot of the first movie. I love this kid and he loves his dad - pants anon

Hello again, Pants Anon. Nice to hear from you. Also, yes. I love thinking about this.

I've written a dozen posts about my thoughts on the core of the trilogy being love, but I don't think I've ever focused in on Marty and George before. It's true, though. Marty's love for his dad runs so deep in parts I and II.

The scene of him stumbling around the graveyard and finding his father's tombstone is absolutely the most emotionally intense version of Marty we get in all three films. He's already seen and experienced so much terror by that point, and we've seen him in tears and scared out of his mind at several moments, but none of it compares to the way George's death shatters him. It's a Marty who has truly hit his breaking point, and MJF's acting in those scenes is so good.

It makes sense of course—how else would a kid react to the sudden news of his dad's death but by screaming and crying like that—and at that point, Marty doesn't know what's caused the timeline to skew, so that sense of despair is real. But I feel like even if he knew what was up, even if he knew he and Doc would end up fixing things, George's death still would have hit him that hard.

As for the scene in front of the Baines's house, there's that part of me that goes, "Well, wouldn't anyone rush into the street to push their parent out of harm's way? Marty was just doing what most people would. It's instinct." Then there's the other part that does see Marty's reaction as a conscious act of love. He could have panicked or frozen up and just let things play out the way they were supposed to, but he made that split-second choice to "sacrifice himself" instead.

Which, by the way, is one of the themes of the movies that makes me lose my mind. So much of this trilogy centers on sacrifice. Doc and Marty in particular are constantly having like...a tennis match back and forth of, "No worries, I'll just go ahead and die for you," "No, no, I'll die for you." "I insist that I die for you." They just take turns putting their life on the line for each other.

Out of the plethora of lovely qualities Marty has, the intensity of his emotions is high on my list of why I like him so much. There's just such a depth to the love he has for people. It's what drives so many of his actions throughout the movies.

It's love that urges him to put himself in the path of a car in order to save his dad.

It's love that pushes him to storm up to Biff in the cafeteria in an attempt to protect his mother from the unwanted advances, even though Biff is twice his size.

It's love that makes him sit at the diner the night of the lightning strike to agonize over how to write a letter that can save Doc's life

Rushing at Biff in the hotel to (once again) protect his mother from abuse, falling apart at his dad's grave, willingly going to the Old West when he's been explicitly told not to? All acts of love.

I really don't even think the kid has a choice in the matter when it comes to people he cares about. No matter how scared or unsure he is, the enormity of his love for his family and friends automatically overrides it.

I truly think that's what makes Back to the Future, and Marty as a character, so special.

Thanks for the ask!

[llynwen]

oh my god?? i never noticed 2002 rust is wearing marty's shirts???? what level of homoerotic self-hating quiet devotion are we on now. the taillight, the shirts, the gift-wrapped cigarettes, marty sticking up for rust and being proud of him in the interview even after ten years, the fact that rust only eats around marty, just call me angel of the morning I swear to FUCK nic pizzolatto you WILL tell us what all of this means

yeah it's been driving me insane for realsies. throughout the show we see rusty wear a variety of dress shirts, wifebeaters, that on black long sleeve (my beloved), the hospital gown, and a few casual shirts but they're always. gray. plane. no spice whatsoever.

But Then! in the two scenes where we see him wear something colorful it's flannels. first one is with maggie in the diner when we Know marty is living with him and they probably have one load of laundry. honest mistake. (also. showing up to see the wife of a guy you're living with While Wearing His Shirt. the balls on him)

However, in '02, the parking lot fight, when he has that red number on???? do y'all think he put it on subconsciously. like. he Knows marty and him are done. there's no coming back from The Event. he's feeling beaten down (metaphorically, even before he gets his shit rocked), hopeless, like he's losing his grasp on reality, nobody will listen to him, the case is eating at him and he's just Done. and he puts on marty's shirt. is it for comfort? is it a reminder of how close they used to be (in contrast to the tail light serving as a reminder of how majorly he fucked up)? is it a form of self punishment? I NEED TO TALK TO THE WARDROBE COORDINATOR OF THIS SHOW SO BAD

also, I'm pretty sure this isn't on pizzolatto. from what @barbie-nightmare-house has told me and from what I've read myself, the scripts aren't actually that good. in fact, they're miles away from the end product that we know and love. the more I read of them the more I'm convinced the show is this good thanks to Other People, not pizzolatto himself. the cast and crew really put their whole pussies into this shit. rust is Much less... Rust. in the scripts. I am Convinced that if it weren't for the fact that mcchghoigheynahy just Gets It he wouldn't be half the character he is (I need to see that pdf matthew. give it to me or else). the cinematography, the music, the set design, even the special effects, every aspect of this show is impeccable and I don't believe it's all thanks to nic. I need to send a fruit basket to every single person who worked on this show.

anyways. let me leave you with this.

they're in love.

[roy-the-dork]

I know this isn’t technically after close at Lou’s diner, but the prompt for #mcflyjuly made me think of Marty’s letter writing scene in the first movie.

And I am once again having emotions about Marty’s letter to Doc

[ejzah]

Do you think Kensi and Deeks made up different stories for how they got together in the early days of their relationship?

***

Realtor: So, Kensi and Martin, how did you two meet?

Kensi: Well, De—Marty walked into my gallery one day and I guess you could say it was love at first sight.

Deeks: And now I get annual passes to the museum. Who’s your favorite artist again, babe?

Kensi: You know what, enough about us. This place is beautiful!

***

Waitress: Well, aren’t you two cute! You know, you make me think of me and my hubby. We met right here at this diner.

Deeks: Oh really? We met at the beach, actually. A surfing championship. *Deeks grins and points at Kensi* She was one of my groupies.

Kensi, from between her teeth: He’s joking. Babe, you can’t keep telling people that.

Waitress: Oh, it’s ok, honey. With a looker like this, I can understand.

Kensi, as she walks away: I can’t believe you said that!

Deeks: Hey, you said the next time could be my time to pick.

***

An annoying woman at a wedding reception: So, Kensi and—is it Marty?

Deeks: Yes. But you can call me Deeks if you want.

Woman: Right. I’ve just been trying to figure out you two. You’re just so…different. I mean, Kensi’s tall and beautiful and Marty you’re…unique.

Kensi, fire in her eyes: What do you mean by unique?

Deeks: Kens—

Woman, waving her hand: Oh, just the hair is a little, I don’t know, long and most men either are clean shaven or commit to a beard. I guess it must be an LA thing.

Kensi: I guess that’s why he made the perfect model back in his 20s.

Woman: Excuse me?

Kensi: Oh, I thought you knew. Deeks inspired an entire look the summer of 2005. I saw him a few years later at a show, took one look at that beautiful face, and got a pass backstage. The rest is history.

Deeks: Well, that’s enough about me. I could use another drink, how about you?

Kensi: Sure!

Deeks, as they leave behind the stunned woman: You know, you didn’t have to do that.

Kensi: I know, but it was fun. Besides, I think you could totally rock a runway with the right theme. And I’ll bet you my knew knife she’ll be asking for your number by the end of the night.

Deeks: Aw, that’s sweet. And slightly weird. Only one problem though.

Kensi: What?

Deeks: Now Eric’s going to have to design a photo shoot for me.