#tbt ; mom

[timechange]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 — blind spot.

JANUARY 11, 1986

The key turns in the front door, the winter chill rushing into the house. A moment later, the hall light turns on.

“Mom? You awake?” 

Sylvia smiles at the sound of her son’s voice, putting down her crochet things on the end table.  

“We’re in here, Georgie!” 

Carefully, she stands, easing her grandson’s head off her lap and tucking a pillow underneath. She’s pretty sure the kid must’ve been an acrobat in another life; there’s no way he’d be able to sleep all twisted up like a pretzel otherwise. She readjusts the blanket she’d put over him, smoothing down his hair, before meeting her son and daughter-in-law halfway.

“Well, how was the party?” she asks, leaning up against the breakfast bar as George and Lorraine hang up their coats. “You two crazy kids have fun hobnobbin’ with the head honchos at Simon & Schuster?” 

“It was nice, Mom, thanks,” George answers, way too dismissively for a party he’d been talking about for weeks, full of editors and publishers and everything he’d always dreamed of, “but–”

“How was Marty?” Lorraine interrupts, urgently.

Here we go. Finally, some answers.

“Lorrie, honey, you know Artie and I always love bein’ with the kids,” Sylvia begins, and she meant it, even though Artie had called it a night about three hours ago and was now snoring loud enough to shake the walls, “but seventeen goin’ on eighteen’s a little old for a babysitter, don’t you think?” 

“Oh, we’ve just been so worried about him, Sylvia,” Lorraine pleads, eyes wide. “We… we didn’t think it would be a good idea to leave him alone.” 

“For the last few months,” George elaborates, wrapping an arm around his wife and holding her close, “he hasn’t been himself. He doesn’t sleep, he’s been having nightmares… he’s been having memory problems, too, and I know he’s a teenager, but sometimes he’ll get in his own head and it’s like… he’s not even here, like he goes somewhere else instead.”

“He’ll get so confused,” Lorraine agrees, “and-and he used to love thunderstorms but now he’s just so afraid of them and... other things… sometimes it even feels like he's afraid of us…” She bites her lip and buries herself into George. 

It breaks Sylvia’s heart to see them like this; in mourning for the boy who’s alive and breathing and fast asleep on the couch. Just a few hours ago her and Marty were singing along to the radio while making dinner and laughing until they cried trying to play games on his Nintendo while eating Lucky Charms by the bowlful.

“We must’ve missed something,” George murmurs, “something must’ve happened to him and we missed it somehow.”

“We’ve just been so busy,” Lorraine laments, “too busy. I-I thought it was the stress… with college applications and everything changing… but even Jennifer and Doctor Brown don’t know what’s wrong.”  

Sylvia isn’t quite sure she buys that. 

She may not know a lot of things, but she does know that Carl Sagan from 1931 certainly doesn’t look like that nice young man on PBS from a couple years back but did look a whole lot like that whiz kid Emmett and even more like her grandson’s best friend, that nice Doctor Brown, that Emmett grew up to be. 

She also knows that Sonny Crockett (who is pretty much all they talked about at dinner tonight) is from one of Marty’s favorite shows, not that kid from 1931 with her grandson’s sweet blue eyes and a fake mustache.

She even remembers George begging her and Artie to help him get all dolled up for some dance at the last minute and talking all about how he wasn’t going with a date but he was going to meet up with his new friend Marty there.

Not to mention the date on that Bubble Bobble game of his is two years from now.

When you grow up around liars and cheats, you get to be really good at noticing things. 

“So how was he tonight?” George asks again. “Really?”

“Georgie, sweetheart, he was fine,” Sylvia emphasizes. “We had a great time. As for the other stuff… Remember what you were like when you were his age? I sure do. Any time your dad and I got near ya we’d have to promise we weren’t tryin’ to look in your journals. Even if we were just givin’ you a hug!”

They crack a smile at this, George at least having the decency to look sheepish.

“Whatever’s going on with Marty,” she continues, “he’ll tell ya when he’s good and ready. And remember: you’re great parents. He loves you. He’d do anything for you. Just be there for him until then and let him know that you love him too. No matter what.”

Sylvia looks over her shoulder at her sleeping grandson, a fond smile and a mischievous look in her eye.

We got a lot to talk about, kiddo. I’m ready when you are.

[psielapki]

teeny teeny starter call for alice liddell, tinkerbell and elsie !! please specify with which one would you like to interact, & if you're a multi, specify muse on your end too. please keep in mind that these "canon" characters aren't really canon, but ocs with inspiration taken from their source material and media with their appearances. 💕

[darlingzsworld]

#tbt when times were different. Not good, not bad, just different. 💕

Also, I have a new Michi. 🩶

Okay that’s all. Byeeeeee.

[hcrctic]

this has tommy energy. 1/?

[gumpistol]

   ❝ heh, the old hag is winning. that's weird. ❞   it's almost like she actually cares about him or something. 

[phatcatphergus]

Of course the tubparents took up archery. It’s so random but makes so much sense in my head

[coyfox]

I hate to do this, but could anyone spare a few dollers to get me through until Thursday? I'm flat broke w/o groceries and I didn't get paid back from some family like I was supposed to 😔

PP @ neonteens

[leighlew3]

From Facebook memories 14 years ago…

I went to the Butterfly Gardens with my mom and nephew (he’s now 16!). She wanted to take a picture because she thought we were “so cute” walkin’ hand-in-hand.

Then she barely included me because she was so focused on the pretty surroundings. 🤦‍♀️😂💜

[precipine]

@strangeattract explores: ‘  you may not like this… i’m gonna try to agitate it.  ’

BUZZFEED UNSOLVED SENTENCE STARTERS. always accepting.

"Um... no offence, Dr. Einstein, but that sounds like a horrible idea."

He's very bravely hiding behind Chaz covering Chaz's back, doing pretty much everything but holding onto her legs like a kid. He's flipping through the journal, trying to find something, anything that would help them in this situation.

"This is part of your plan, right?... Please tell me you have a plan."

[crownshattered]

|| Fuck psychology, I should’ve been a streamer….

[pocketramblr]

Izuku: So you see me and my mother as nothing but games to entertain you? Well, I'm going to play a game of my own called "Kill my Dad" guess what the goal of the game is?

AFO: :(((((

Izuku: oh good, him seeing us as dolls in a doll house makes me feel way less guilty about seeing him only as a life insurance payout

AfO: wait what

Izuku: and I'm about to buy Mom something real nice

[malinaa]

my dad telling me i'd "regret" being pro-choice when i'm pregnant.... first of all id be caught DEAD pregnant literally . second of all. be fucking real

[4lexnilsen]

lucy: “ this beer is not sobering me up at all. ”

“i’m sorry,  but who exactly advertised pouring more beer into your system as some secret strategy to sober up fast?”   alex lets out an exasperated exhale,  shaking his head as his hand curls gently around @unheavenly’s arm to help steady her.   “your liver needs time to metabolize alcohol.   humans don’t digest it like we do food and so nothing can truly…”   he trails off,  realizing now is most likely not the ideal moment for this kind of conversation.   brash music is still pulsing in tandem with neon lights all around them,  clouds of cigarette smoke mixed with a not-so-subtle undertones of weed hanging in the air.   he can barely hear his own thoughts.   “would you like to go outside?   breathe in some fresh air?   maybe that would help?”

[moonspower]

this is another hautè takè cuz i went back to my old blogs from like 10 years ago.... ull see these psas now like ' WE DONT RP THE WAY WE USED TO CUZ WE'RE OLDER NOW WITH MORE RESPONSIBILTIES!!1 ' except when i look at my archive from back then its more fun, very brief threads that's just good one-liner after good one-liner and icons without borders, with gif icons, big text, etc, very low maintenance but also fulfilling. just how much time do we lend into making sure we look into being presentable or whatever the fuck who gives a shit when we could just be having fun.

just a thought.

people will announce that their dad died in plain unformatted text and will end the post with ' sorry for the ugly post. '

[timechange]

Marty leaned against the doorjamb, watching the familiar scene with a smile. Jules and Verne raced into their father’s arms, Doc sweeping them both up in a triumphant hug. Einstein followed suit, giving a few barks of welcome, the boys clamoring for tales of Doc’s latest adventure.

Marty was about to make a quiet exit of his own when arms encircled him and swiftly bundled him into a hug. After the initial surprise, he returned @nerdynanny ‘s embrace.

“Told you I’d bring him back safe ‘n’ sound, Clara,” he informed her. “I always do.”