#thats all just some words of advice from a local! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jellybeansmud · 26 days

Text

so i got angry trying to catch an octopus. and now its 4:30 am and i finished a little something about how horrible it must be to be the farmer when your player is crazy stupid and trying to achieve everything immediately like they're a fucking speedrunner or something (<- thats me. i am like that)

putting it under readmore. unedited since im only getting two hours of sleep today even without editing

Solo Stress | Farmer & Elliott

| they/them for the farmer | 1693 words

It is a beautiful morning in the Pelican Town, and the local farmer is yelling at the sea like it just insulted their mother. It is barely seven.

You get used to it always being a bit noisy, living right by the sea, but swearing that was so loud it almost sounded like it was right inside of his cabin overpowered the usual sound of waves and seagulls quite a bit. Enough so that Elliott shot straight up from his bed before even properly waking up, running outside with his heart sinking to his stomach, fully expecting to find someone injured there, or to see fire, or a flood, or something of sorts. He rubbed his eyes, adjusting to bright rays of sun shining right into his face, and looked around the beach.

The area was peaceful enough. Definitely no natural disasters happening. All Elliott could find that was out of the ordinary were a kicked over bucket, a few sardines flopping helplessly on the sand next to it, and the town's newest resident, who stood by the edge of the water, screaming and gesturing around at such speed that the fishing rod in one of their hands hit the water from time to time, sending splashes half their height up in the air. After a minute of consideration, he called out to them before walking closer.

Olli whipped around faster than Elliott has ever seen a person turn in his life, fishing rod drawing a half-circle deep in the sand. Their, honestly, quite terrifying scowl dropped when they saw him, to his relief. The second that they looked at him like that was enough for him to reconsider whether it was a good idea to ask them what happened. He did so anyways.

"Fucking octop- octip- octopi, is what happened!" they hissed, throwing their hand up. Purple metal of their fishing rod shined brightly, catching a ray of sun, before it fell to the ground a good distance away from the shore. The farmer seemed to not even notice they threw it, caught up in their anger. "Motherfuckers get my fucking bait, almost break my arm thrashing on the hook worse than the god damned Legend, and then they rip my line like it's nothing! I've hooked two dozen of them just this summer, and you know how many I pulled out in the end? Fucking none!" The bucket almost joined the rod in the sand, but ended up falling several meters closer to the treeline. Elliott didn't know people could kick something this hard before. "Fucking none! They are just some fucking fish! What the hell am I supposed to do to catch at least one alredy?!"

He was, frankly, stumped here. This must've been the first time anyone in the town has seen Olli this angry, and it was over some bad luck with fishing. Elliott wished someone else was dealing with this right now. Unfortunately, Willy just left for a fishing trip on his newly repaired boat. Oh well.

"I... suppose, uh, out of everyone in town, Willy would be the only one who could give you any advice on that... Would you like to have some tea, perhaps? I would invite you to saloon, if it weren't this early in the morning," he tried. If he couldn't offer any advice, then distracting Olli probably was his best chance to prevent them from doing sonething stupid. Like smashing their fishing rod in half. Or fighting an octopus with a sword. He wouldn't be surprised if they tried that.

The farmer dragged a palm across their face to calm down, taking a deep breath, and just nodded in response. Their shoulders sagged as they followed Elliott to his cabin.

The Moonlight Farm was one of the best ones you could find in the country. Even if it couldn't compete in output with huge corporate farms, it definitely won all awards when it came to the quality of produce. It was almost unbelievable that the smell of starfruit that filled the room came from the dried cubes in the tea Elliott served to his guest and not a fresh fruit, so sweet and intense it was. The writer often wondered how Olli managed to achieve so much in two short years since their arrival to the abandoned, barren farm. Right now wasn't the best time to ask, though.

Olli was cutting a pomegranate with a pocket knife when he turned from his kitchen cabinets to the little table with a pair of cups in his hands. He grabbed a bowl for the seeds after setting down the cups.

"Brought this for you," the farmer said, smiling shallowly without looking away from the fruit when they heard the clink of the bowl placed in front of them.

"You are such a kind friend." Elliott sat on the other side of the table and smiled back. "You were planning to visit me?"

"Just wanted to bring a gift. There are a few more, too."

They pulled a bundle of cloth with several pomegranates inside from their bag that sat on the floor by their stool and placed it on the table. Each fruit looked pristine and absolutely perfect, like no fruit Elliott has ever seen anywhere but Pelican Town. He thanked Olli again, and they offered him the same faint smile.

"You seem really upset still. Are you trying to catch an octopus for something important, or is there something else bothering you?"

They didn't reply for a minute, popping the seeds out of the pomegranate in their hands into the bowl. They looked somewhere past it, however, eyes lost and unblinking.

"Uh... Just... Slept bad tonight and overreacted because of that, I guess... It's fine, don't worry, it's alright, it's- It's alright."

It really did not seem alright. Olli just pretended to focus on cleaning the fruit.

Elliott studied them while they seemed to not even notice his eyes on them. He didn't get a chance to look at them up close often, really. They were always around, and chatted with him (and everyone else in town) every day, but most of the time, they were in one place only for a few minutes before running off. The longest they stayed somewhere besides the farm was when they went fishing. Or to the mines, from what he's heard from Robin, who sometimes saw then enter them early in the morning and leave past sunset.

"Are you getting enough rest, usually?" he asked, realizing now that he has never seen them without these dark circles under their eyes.

"Yea, it was just... Um... Baahrbara had a lamb late into the night, I had to stay with her, you know, to see if they're alright. Just a..." Olli took a deep breath, poorly trying to hide either a sigh or a yawn. "Just one of those things."

It seemed like that one time he saw them arrive to the tide pools well past midnight when he got carried away writing was, perhaps, not just an one-time thing.

"And you were here today since?.."

Their face fell. Weak smile they held gave place to a sad, tired expression, and they slumped into themselves.

"...You know, don't you?" they asked quietly, not looking at him.

Elliott reached across the table to place his hand on their shoulder.

"You do a lot of hard work every day. You know you should take better care of yourself, right? Nobody would want to see you hurt yourself by accident because you were tired."

Olli stayed silent, bringing their legs up to hug them. Their long hair obscured their eyes, but Elliott was almost certain he saw tears behind their bangs.

"It's okay, Olli. You've helped the town so much, and you're still doing a lot of great things for us all. Do something for yourself, too, okay? You don't have to wear yourself out this much."

"People need the farm, y'know?" Their voice was definitely watery now. First time anyone in the town has seen them cry, too, probably. Elliott got up to hug them around the shourders. "I- We don't have the JojaMart anymore, I have to work harder so I can give enough to town, I can't just not do this! And there are public plans that need finances, so I need to sell enough to cover that, too, and- and- Yoba, I j- I just can't, Elliott, I have to work this hard! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

He didn't say anything, patting their back while they cried into their knees. It only lasted for a brief minute, and then they forced their tears to stop, curling up tighter and hiding their face more.

Elliott fixed their hair, trying to look them into the eyes, and Olli glanced up for a moment. He smiled warmly at them.

"I'm sure Marnie wouldn't mind helping you with animals, right? And Shane need something to do, since he doesn't have a job right now. I can ask Leah to help with the plants, and most people would be happy to help with the harvests, if they have free time. This can even be a new little festival, don't you think?"

"They already have enough to do without this, it's my farm, I-"

"Clearly you can't do all that you want to do alone, Olli. It wouldn't hurt to ask. Think about it for a while, at least, okay?"

"...Okay. Okay. I- Thank you. I'm... I'm gonna ask Shane. That's... I think he will like my chickens. Okay."

"And take at least today off, please."

They looked up at him, eyes wet and pained, and he cut them off before they could say a word.

"For me?"

"...If it's for you."

"Thank you. I'll help you bring your things to the farm. Go to bed when we get there, you can always talk to people later."

Olli slipped off the stool right into hugging him.

Elliott collected their discarded bucket and fishing rod as they both headed out to the other side of the town. He hoped they will follow his advice. He really wanted to see them happy.

#mud babbles #stardew valley #sdw #stw elliott #i am mentally unwell and love torturing myself. i shouldve just written it after work #but nooo. i needed to do this nowwww. well enjoy sleeping only 2 hours before work you idiot.

7 notes · View notes

polyamorouspunk · 1 year

Note

Hi, i’m a young person who wants to join the punk and anarchist movement(If thats not what its called i’m sorry!) but i have no clue where to begin with it, especially with my age and being young not many people will take me seriously, or will just belittle me where i’m from. I’ve always been skeptical and quite bothered by the monarchy and government, especially with the “kings” recent coronation. Do you have any tips for what i can do to contribute to the anarchist movement and do my part? Thank you :)

Hey there!

Thank you for coming to my blog, and I hope I can help.

First of all, I have a great list of personalized ideas of things from my own life from a similar ask that I recommend checking out here:

To add onto that though, social media is a great tool! I’ve recently had the opportunity to submit a piece I made for this blog to a zine someone was making, and that was very exciting! Get creative, make some art and post it, whether it be digital or patches or whatever! It can be easy to feel like just because you aren’t *directly* doing anything doesn’t mean you’re contributing, but getting the word out about things is y both easy and important! Pick a cause you feel really strongly about (perhaps like the recent coronation of the king) and have at it! Make a “no master, no kings” graphic, an “eat the rich” patch, etc. These steps are small and usually “safer” and yet still speak volumes and are defiant.

Nothing more punk than volunteering in your local community. Groups like girl/Boy Scouts and girl guides are great forces of change in things like this. As I mentioned previously I cleaned up the local animal shelter, stocked our local town food pantry, made blankets to donate to the local shelters, volunteered at the shelter to just play with cats and socialize them, and literally so much more. Helping organizations that have already been established is a great and easy way to help.

If you’re young you probably don’t have a steady source of income to donate to organizations to. I’m lucky enough that I’ve been in a place to lend money to some people I know irl and online, and that through this blog I’ve donated $30 so far to the Trans Doe Task Force, which is a cause I’m invested in, in a move to combat transphobic asks that I receive about my person.

Attend pride if you can! We live in a society that wants us eradicated. Showing up and being there is a sign of defiance.

Not everything has to be so big. Getting involved locally and with people around you is just as important as going all-out.

#punk gets mail #punk culture

33 notes · View notes

goldenlaquer · 1 year

Note

REQUESTS OPEK??!?!?!;&@, I JUST WOKE UO IM NOT REAUD UM UN UHH UM

may i request Gintoki with a gn reader who just LOVES to spoil him and make him food but at some point just. stops and doesnt say why and while gintoki doesnt want to sound like "hey wheres my food☹️" he is lowkey wondering if they are mad at him and does a bunch of stuff to try make it up to them. rither like cooking himself or spending more time with them yknow?

but in reality its just that money got tight for a bit and they were embarrassed to say they were spending so much on gin lmao

sorry if thats like all over the place! love you lots professor💚

The way you always come as soon as I open requests, It's like you're in my walls 🥺🚓

Sakata Gintoki Headcanons:

Majority of his life, Gintoki been used to going without comforts, some way or the other. Warm clothes. Fresh underwear. Food. Good food, especially. And it ain't been all so bad since he started the Yorozuya. You can always catch a meal from behind Snack Otose's bar before the old lady catches you by the ear and tosses you out like a dirty mongrel. You can always dip your head in the fountain at the local park to gulp down some cold water. You can always get your 14-year old coworker to stand in a corner and beg for some spare change for your strawberry parfait at your favorite cheap family-style joint.

Point is, you put a street urchin anywhere, and he finds a way to survive.

Theoretically.

So what actually does him in is meals, hot meals, three times a day, seven days a week. The dining table these days is actually creaking, heavily set with the weight of those little side dishes. Side dishes. Gintoki now is getting choices with his meals. And after a delicious meal, then comes dessert. Not just any dessert— strawberry parfait. A tall glass dish filled brim with his favorite sweet, pushed under his nose with a sweeter kiss to his temple before you're happily clearing the rest of the dishes to the sink.

Gintoki has gained ten pounds since loving you.

Until he's suddenly back to square one, ten pounds lighter, back to three-way chopstick fights over every rotten grain of rice, back to scavenging in Sadaharu's dog feed bag, back to harassing Otose's rice cooker, back to swishing fountain water through his teeth to line his never-quite-satisfied stomach.

It's not his first rodeo, but this time, hitting the ground is harder than he remembers.

It's not about the food. In the past few days, you haven't even been looking at him in the eyes, while ladling a fourth of the food that you usually serve into his chipped bowl. Have barely peeped a few words, except murmured thank you for the meal's before quietly eating your portion, smaller than everyone else's. You've kissed him less, hugged him less. The Yorozuya doesn't carry your scent anymore, you're hardly there.

You're ignoring him, he's concluded. Gintoki knows, knows he's pissed you off because Sakata Gintoki always pisses everyone off at some point. You're sick of a lazy, no-good guy like him, he knows it. He knows it.

Fuck, he hasn't missed any anniversaries. On your third month together, he pissed your name in the snow in front of the Yorozuya! If that isn't the most ardent declaration of love, he doesn't know what is! On your birthday, he gave you a DIY, a lovely sculpture! And told you to use it when he's gone! And his performance in bed— no, that definitely can't be it. He puts his back into it! His dicking is flawless. S-tier!

Shinpachi suggests gifting you the newest Otsuu-chan CD. An advice expected of a cherry boy, damn him.

Kagura is more helpful— she's seen it all before. Papi always swallowed his pride and kneeled in the dirt and begged.

And so, Gintoki kneels in the dirt and begs.

And he says something not worth repeating. Blah blah blah blah I miss you blah blah blah blah don't leave blah blah blah blah You don't have to do anything blah blah blah blah just stay blah blah blah blah I love you or whatever blah blah blah blah.

And you're wrapping your arms around his prostrated head, maybe in tears, saying something like money was running short, you were out looking for a job that's why you weren't at the Yorozuya more often, and something like you were embarrassed to face him— which is the most ridiculous bullshit he's ever heard because look at him while he's wiping your tears away with a rough hand, you idiot— you're dating the sorriest, the poorest bastard in Edo! Getcher ass home so we can eat dinner.

And dinner that night— even with four pairs of chopsticks and one paw fighting over the last shriveled dog kibble— has never tasted better.

Happily ever afterrrr

#gintama #gintama headcanons #gintama fanfiction #gintama imagines #sakata gintoki #answered ask #im so sorry if this sucks pure ahhhh bc im stretching my sore writing skills after a while

66 notes · View notes

traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 1 year

Note

tw: sexual assault, controlling abusive behaviour, mental health issues, fat fetish

im 25, gay, and i live with my boyfriend who is a good bit older than me. we met on the internet when i was in low place during the pandemic and I was wanting some form of affection. I moved in with him about a year ago not long after losing my mother. I am also very fat, I always have been, and hes fit I knew going into it that he had a fetish for my weight i just wanted affection but since living with him it's gotten more intense and he says he doesnt 'want' me to get bigger but he likes my weight and he knows i obviously have problems with food anyway so he says he likes giving me what i want. he weighs me and measures me every week and i have to do it tomorrow. I never look at it he says he does it to make sure im not getting bigger. but im not an idiot. And i have to be naked when hes here I hate myself so much and i hate having to look at myself like this 24/7. I have no friends at all and I'm so isolated, hes the only person i really interact with apart from my therapist who he takes me to, I depend on him for so much and he controls my whole lifefor his own pleasure i have to go along with it no matter what. he knows everything about me he knows all my trauma from a past relationship like this where it was even worse, he infantalises me and keeps my money i have to ask him for things. i dont feel okay i feel like a zombie, im so confused and sad i dont know what to do. I dont have anywhere to go and i dont want to live like this. I know i should tell my therapist more about my relationship but im ashamed to say it and i dont even know if she can help me i feel like theres nothing i can do. I had a bad day and im so lonely

Oh the sexual assault tag was because he has had sex with me multiple times in my sleep even though i have told him i dont like it. he tells me it's not a big deal and that i like it. He knows i was r word in my late teensand i tell him thats why i dont like it i have cptsd from my first relationship and he says it's not the same thing. I just want advice on what i could do

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what you've been going through. Please know that there's no need to feel ashamed, just as other survivors have nothing to be ashamed of. It's not your fault at all.

It sounds like your partner may have preyed on you during your low point in the pandemic and is taking advantage of you in several ways. It's controlling of him to demand you constantly weigh yourself and you deserve the right to say no. You also deserve the right to wear clothes around him if you want to. Isolation is also a key feature of abuse. It sounds like there may also be some financial abuse going on as well, with him in control of your money. I can definitely see how these things make you feel infantilized.

Please know that it can be considered rape to have sex with someone who is asleep because they are incapable of providing consent (unless it was agreed to prior, but that doesn't seem to be the case here). Especially knowing your history, he should respect that. While it may not be the exact same situation that you experienced previously, it's still not okay and you deserve better.

A therapist may not be able to directly help you leave this situation, though they can definitely provide emotional support much better than us. If it is safe to do so, I recommend looking into some local crisis resources. I'm not sure where you're located, but this is a super helpful resource regarding abusive relationships. They have ways to reach out, as well as forming a safety plan.

If anyone else has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Otherwise, hope I could help. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #tw abuse #tw sa #tw r #tw emotional abuse #trauma details

3 notes · View notes

nishimaru · 10 months

Text

wishes from shooting stars aren't honest whatsoever.

synopsis: xena finds herself lost, longing affection and some attention from the woman who gave birth to her, so she turns to a coincidental event that happens in the night.

notes: xena katrinova from acsfitn has my absolute heart and im reviving this stupid fandom thats been dead for years </3 come back to me acsftn fans imy. this entire post screams word vomit. ((BYE I JUST SAW I DIDNT PUT THIS ON PUBLIC THIS IS EMBARASSING))

a heads-up: angst NO COMFORT BITCH, hopeless thinking, mommy issues, broken relationship with mom, refusing to let go of already broken relationships, sorrowful self pity, xena being delusional. lowercase intended, and fast-paced, btw. xena being childish hrlp

as long as xena remembered, her mother has always been "too busy" for her. when in reality, the woman has been lounging around god knows where, finding excuses to avoid her daughter, and muttering empty apologies for the past 17 years xena has been alive for.

this time, xena plans to improve her and her mother's relationship using everything she can. she tried communicating with her mother more than she usually does, and doing favors for her which end up being fruitless, she tried going for advice from friends who's relationship with their mothers are more preferable, for the lack of a better term.

but alas, all her attempts on bettering her relationship with her mother have been ill-fated from the start if the receiving end did not want anything from xena. day after day, she began to lose hope and think to herself if it was her fault all along and it was because she wasn't trying enough.

she always felt bad at how envious she became to her friends who had a relationship with their mothers that only a girl like xena, could wish for during the night of when shooting stars were existent. suddenly, an idea popped into her head, she smiled. feeling like she discovered something that could finally make her dreams a reality. it seemed silly to count on a shooting star to make her relationship with her mother improve but she was yearning for the love of the woman who has seen her from the beginning till now.

xena quickly sprang up from her bed, rushing over to her laptop, going to the search engine as she typed in the words, 'nxet shootig star near kaia avenue'. xena typed in the words so fast, some spelling mistakes occurred in which she snickered at. a few searches coming up, she clicked on the local weather forecast, the website said shooting stars were gonna appear tomorrow night. "how conventional." lena softly sighed, wishing to whatever godly being that her relationship with her mother will improve. she couldn't find herself to fault her mother of her shortcomings to relieve the burden of a strained relationship, even if it was a devestating impact on her own life because, her mother was a girl who was trying to find herself, but is doing an awfully shitty job at that. (she might blame her mother for that though, who knows). whatever, she just wanted this silly little wish to come true, as she imagined her mother finally giving her praise and unconditional love that she was promised at a younger age, but now became fruitless as she became older, more perceptive. she brushed her thoughts off as she got ready for bed, silently praying for anyone to answer her wishes tomorrow.

the day came, xena's memory of the day became a blur, her only priority making it to night so she can await the shooting stars that she had craved to make countless wishes of her ''own selfishness.'' as she said in her own words. the moonlight shone on her raven hair, her black pupils dilated as she shut her eyes, opening her window and clasping her hands together, putting it near her forehead as she kneeled down to face the sky. "if it's not too much to ask, please make my mother finally acknowledge me so we can finally have a stable relationship, i want her to care for me like a mother should and love me as her own. i always wanted a mother figure like on those tv shows or like my friend's mom's." she pleaded, as she heard tiny 'fwoosh's' in the gleaming night sky, assuming its the swift shooting stars. she finally got up from her knees, dusting off any unwanted particles on the silk pajama pants that she wore. she thanked whatever being that would grant her wish and closed her window, heading off to bed and yawning.

the next day came, xena was filled with hopefulness and bliss as if it was Christmas morning and she was six years old again, with her father and mother, but she wasnt. she's become 17, who's still clinging onto a thread of affection that anyone is willing to throw at her. she rushed downstairs to greet her mother. "mom, good morning!" xena had greeted, opening her arms slightly, nervously awaiting for her mom to give her an embrace and whisper sweet nothings into her ears and apologies, just like she had dreamed. her mother scoffed, looking at her with an annoyed face as she shoved xena out of her way. "xena, what the hell are you doing? don't you know any better than to get in my way? I've told you this already, haven't i?" her mother grimaced. xena's frowm immediately made itself known as her nose stung everytime she breathed and her eyes became glassy, and her heart piercied and laced with anguish as she forced a nod. "i-.. i just thought that you-" xena said before she got cut off. "you thought wrong, xena. now move, i have somewhere to attend in an hour and i don't want to be late for whatever pitiful excuse you throw at me." xena's mother spat, opening the front door and walking out, slamming it close. her presence gone as swiftly as she first saw xena this morning. it's pitiful on how she thought a simple shooting star could fix all the problems she had with her mother, but she was desperate for any solution and a shooting star is what came up as a last resort. she trudged to her room, salty tears of sorrow painting her dejected face.

how silly, in the end all her attempts to rekindle the relationship she had with her mother became fruitless, maybe it was time to finally sever the already broken relationship with her mother that she was so gullible to think that it would be fixed, but she tried, and that's all that mattered.

a few more months and she would find her own place to stay, far, far away from the place she called home once.

(crying rn as we speak)

#mommy issues #acsftn #please notice this #this is a cry for help #angst #mother issues #xena katrinova #words words words #rambles #shooting stars #nishimaru writes #a crushed star fell in the nightsky

1 note · View note

mental-health-advice · 1 year

Note

Hi, I think I'm experiencing depersonalization. It happened again tonight, frankly it's still ebbing away as I type this I still can't unlock my jaw yet and it feels like it's not me putting down the words but at the same time I know it's me. This has been happening semi-frequently over the last year and a half I think? I experienced it really badly for the first time many years ago and it was terrifying but then it wasn't that bad again for many years. Now it happens so often that I kinda recognize when it's starting to happen and it eats at me until I don't see myself in the mirror anymore and my body runs on auto pilot stuck in some kind of loop until my body goes numb , I can't feel anything really and no matter how much I tell my body to move it just won't. Tonight wasn't so bad, not as bad as other days. Sometimes it'll go on for hours and all I can do is lay there motionless as I try to convince myself I'm real and as I stare at my body it feels distorted and wrong. This was happening really badly and at least once to twice a week a few months back but it hasn't happened like this in a while. Day by day it's just struggles to recognize myself in the mirror or the feeling of my hands touching my body feels foreign but I still have control. I can ignore it for the most part by avoid mirrors or not touching bare skin until it goes away. I know I should see a therapist, but I work so much and I don't have a way to get to in person visits. I can't do virtual video chats they just feel fake and I can't focus. The thing is I don't know what's triggering it. Normally it hits badly late at night and I'll just know its happening but be unable to stop it. I'm not even thinking of anything bad, I haven't got any trauma that could have started it, I've not been abused and I'm no more stressed then usual and I like myself as I am. At least for the most part. It feels like I'm doing it for attention at times but no one else knows this happens, so logically I know thats not true. Still I can't figure out why this is a thing. I just want to feel real. I want to look at myself and know yeah, this is me. I'm really, this is my body and I exist. I'm here now and I'm not just floating through life. Do you guys have any advice? Logically I know I'm real, but I don't feel like I am at the same time. Please tag as ⏳Thanks.

Hey there,

I am not a professional but it does sound as though you may be experiencing and struggling with depersonalization.

I know that you mentioned that you work a lot but some therapists also work on the weekend and can be quite accommodating for those that may have trouble going to day time appointments throughout the week so this may be something to definitely look into when you get the chance. Until then though I would encourage you to see your local doctor or GP for some professional help and advice as sometimes medication can be really helpful at times for those suffering from depersonalization as well in severe cases.

I am not sure if you have tried this but sometimes trying different grounding techniques such as listening to music and trying to really focus on your present surroundings can be really helpful, and especially when you are starting to feel detached from your own body and like you not who you really are. You can find out more information of different grounding techniques here. The point is trying to distract yourself and thinking of something else rather than focusing on the symptoms that may be happening for you at the time.

With this being said, trying to go about your days as normally as possible can also be of some help. So therefore, not letting the disorder from having the control over you and worrying about when the symptoms of the disorder will next happen/ occur. And when you feel like an episode is coming on, then this is where listening to music or trying to focus on different things and grounding techniques can come in handy.

I would encourage you to see a doctor though when you can, even if it means taking some time off of work. Your mental health and well-being is of upmost importance and if things especially begin to start getting worse like with the frequency and severity, then it may mean that at some point you may not be able to work due to the symptoms affecting your daily life more.

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you and hope you are otherwise going well!

Take care,

Lauren

#mha-lauren #advice #advice blog #mental health advice #⏳#depersonalization #symptoms #affecting daily life #seeking help #grounding techniques

0 notes

chaotic-tired-cat · 2 years

Note

This is very strange, so it’s okay if you delete this. I was trying to talk with my dad about a story idea I had, where two teenagers have to get away with murder and the moral consequences thereof, but he kept shooting me down and said that those stories were awful and senseless and he hated them. He always picks apart my ideas and even though he means well I literally have nobody else willing to listen I can talk to easily about my writing so it’s kind of weighing me down :( very sad :(

Hey Anon! It's not strange at all - the writing community online is a fantastic way to share stories and support each other creatively. Also, that sounds like a super cool concept!! It'd be really interesting to see how the ripple effect/consequences spreads out as the plot goes on. There's loads of ethical questions to deal with there as well, and with two main characters trying to get away with a whole entire murder you'd probs be able to have some wild dialogue!! AAAA thats just so COOL??? Very curious about all the possible paths that concept could take.

But I hear where you're coming from with this - it sucks to share an exciting concept and have that torn apart. So I'm going to pass on advice from a writer friend: It's your story. If someone doesn't appreciate it, then that just means the story isn't for them.

Also, if you don't mind me being blunt: those kinds of stories aren't awful. They're necessary. Every creative work is a way to put a piece of yourself into words/art/music/etc., and every reader/viewer/listener/etc. has a chance to reflect it back. You have something to say, and that's amazing. It should be celebrated. And I'm really sorry you offered that connection and had it shot down.

Random thought but it might be worth checking in with a local librarian/bookstore owner/language teacher for writing workshops/online writing communities/slam poetry groups - every community has a space for storytelling. Online or offline, formal or informal. It might be a place to find an audience that gets just as excited as you are. I credit a huge portion of my writing style to friends I made in a creative writing class. They def helped me grow from someone who could only write angst like [kraken gets hit by an oil rig] to someone capable of adding humor.

There is so much worth in your creativity and the time you put into it. So take care and keep writing!

#anon #tired cat asks #going to revisit a point in the tags but like #there is so much to be gained from telling stories #i say this thinking of the last lie i told a bunch of toddlers about diver lisences but bear with me:#its about putting an idea into the world that someone else might need #its abt the connection #and its abt the fact that your idea then lives on in someone else's mind or heart #this may sound cheesy but that kinda thing matters

0 notes

brokenbeskar · 3 years

Text

Denial

Chapter One of Memories Reforged ( Din Djarin x F!Reader )

Word Count: 8.2k

Summary: After crash landing on the planet of your next job, you learn another mysterious mandalorian bounty hunter is working the same contract as you and you decide to investigate.

Warnings: descriptions of blood and death, canon level violence, grief, there's a nightmare sequence but nothing crazy!

A/N: I’m super nervous to start posting this, but I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know if you find any mistakes or have any criticisms/advice! Theres a lot of mystery surrounding you for the first couple chapters, but I promise they will be explained soon enough!

Everything around you is happening so rapidly, in flashes. Red, surrounding you, clouding everything around you...

It’s blood. Blood--blood on your hands, you realize. Blood on the ground around you, on you--on everything. Your vision is so blurry you can barely make out the shapes around you. You’re sobbing, your chest aches, burning, smoke and ash in your lungs, you try to cry out but barely any sound comes through. A rushing in your ears so loud you can barely hear.

You're desperately applying pressure beneath you, but the bleeding won’t stop. You beg and plead to the maker, the universe, whatever could possibly hear you, whatever could possibly help you, you're so desperate. you’re trembling, shaking so hard you can’t keep steady despite trying so hard to keep the pressure on the gushing wound beneath you...

Another flash, you can’t see anything anymore, everything is too blurry, but you feel something brush up to your cheek, you lean into it. It’s comforting, but the burning in your chest only gets worse, your sobbing doesn't stop. The brush on your cheek is so tender, so precious, but so painful. So bittersweet...

More red, another flash, and now a sound, cutting through the white noise that fills your ears--a steady beeping. Through your clouded vision you can barely make out the light flashing on the bomb that's been set to detonate in his hand. You press your forehead to something cold, and you squeeze your eyes shut, blackness engulfing your vision, only the faint blinking of the light shining through your eyelids...

Suddenly, everything is crystal clear. The feeling of his hand tangled in your hair, pulling you tighter against the cool metal of his helmet, the warmth of the blood gushing out of the wound you are still so desperately applying pressure to, and when you open your burning, sobbing eyes, the crystal clear reflection of the bomb blinking in the corner of his visor. The light growing brighter, and the beeping growing faster, louder, and louder---so LOUD-- You shoot up with a sharp gasp in your seat, absolute panic still consuming you, the beeping from the bomb still going off rapidly--no...you realize suddenly. The beeping from the cockpit of your ship, you're dropping out of hyperspace.

You’re shivering, covered in a cold sweat, things slowly starting to come back to you. It was another nightmare. You must have fallen asleep while you were still in hyperspace. You glance over to the helmet in the copilot seat next to you, the familiar visor staring at you, hollow. The stars reflecting off the tint of it, and the beat up, once glossy copper accents framing it. You try to get your breathing under control while you shakily take hold of the ship's controls, flicking off the alarm and getting ready to break through the atmosphere of the planet thats suddenly in front of you.

This is going to be rough. This ship, if you can even call it that, is a piece of shit. It’s barely holding together, you were shocked it was even able to make the jump into hyperspace in the first place. It's trembling dramatically under you, as you try to hold her steady while you descend.

“Talk about a bumpy ride,” you barely mutter to yourself through gritted teeth as you struggle against the violent rattling of the hunk of metal surrounding you, suddenly very thankful you were already buckled in. Suddenly the whole ship lurches violently despite your firm hold on the controls as you break into the atmosphere, and alarms start blaring deafeningly throughout the cockpit, the ship is barely holding together at this point. You clench your jaw tight, this is going to be a rough landing. Another violent jerk of the ship and you feel something big break off. You can’t even begin to think about what it is though, because you are quickly losing control entirely. You are descending much too fast, and there's nothing you can do about it. Alarms blaring in your ears as you try to make this the softest crash landing possible. The sandy surface of this planet is coming quick, until it's all you can see. You violently collide with the ground, you can't see anything, sand shoots up all around the ship blinding you. You had tried to hit a good angle coming down, but your ship slides through the sand, bounces back up, and rolls twice. You get roughly knocked around in your seat and you wack your head pretty hard on the dashboard in the collision, you black out.

You groan, slowly coming to, clutching the sore spot on the side of your head while you try to collect yourself. Maker, it HURTS, you can feel the pulsing behind your eyes and you’re seeing stars, your vision blurry from the impact. You shakily undo your seatbelt, and try to lift from your seat, hand still clutching the side of your head. Everything on you hurts, you know you’re going to be covered head to toe in bruises despite being buckled in the whole time. You tap the nav console in the center of the dashboard, but nothing, unresponsive. The whole ship has gone completely dead. No more flashing lights and blaring alarms. Just the slight groaning of the metal struggling to stay together after the crash.

“Well fuck…” you sigh out, but then the dread and anger hit you all at once. A pit pooling in your stomach and rising up tight in your chest like an inferno, You had scrounged together every last credit you had for this piece of shit, and now it's absolutely trashed. It would cost you more than its worth in repairs, if it can even be repaired. You would bet all your remaining credits it was far beyond saving. You violently slam your fist down into the control panel, cursing loudly into the cockpit. You needed this ship, badly. How were you supposed to collect bounties without it? How could you afford a new one? You bang your fist into the control panel again, then slump down defeatedly back into the pilot's seat, resting your elbows on the edge of the control panel and leaning forward to burying your head in your hands.

You take a deep breath in and run one of your hands through the hair framing your face as you lean back in the seat and let the same breath out. You turn your head slightly to look over to the copilot's seat, but you shoot back up to your feet when you find the seat is empty. Your heart is racing again. Where is it? Where did it go? You frantically scan the floor of the cockpit, desperately looking for even the smallest glimpse of it. When you finally catch sight of the familiar hunk of metal in the far corner, you rush over and drop to your knees next to it. You carefully pick up the heavy beskar helmet and rotate it so the familiar T of the visor is staring empty at you. You breath out heavily as you press your forehead to it, clutching it so tightly in your hands. You pull away to inspect for any damage--well any new damage at least. The helmet was in bad shape. It had a couple dents and gashes in it, the paint that once coated it so beautifully now chipped and worn, the small crack in the corner of the visor catching the light. You sigh at it, realizing you probably wouldn't even be able to tell what's new and what's not at this point.

“Well,” you breath out to the helmet as if it could hear you, “no point in wallowing, right?” You stand from where you were kneeling on the floor, tucking the helmet under your arm. “We’ve got a bounty to catch.” And with that you step into the hull of the ship, trying your best to ignore the mess caused from the crash, all of your belongings thrown about and scattered unceremoniously throughout it. You find your go bag and sling it over your shoulder. Then head to the exit ramp to leave, but pausing before you step out into the sandy environment to slowly slide the helmet from under your arm, over your head, with a click.

---------------------------------

You hate desert planets. You're burning up under your bulky beskar. It barely fits you, so you have to bulk up under it to make sure it stays on properly. It doesn't look as awkward as it feels, and no one can tell how much you're sweating under the helmet, but maker, you’re miserable. With every step you can feel the soreness lingering from the crash earlier. It was quite a walk to the nearest settlement. You’re in some kind of marketplace. It’s bustling and busy, vendors lining the sand covered streets selling all kinds of wares, a lot of it junk.

You’re in a terrible mood. Between crash landing your one and only ship, the heat of this planet baking you alive under your armor, and the sand that you can feel working its way uncomfortably into your boots, you’re seething with anger. You swear it would only take one local giving you the wrong look for you to snap and break their neck with your bare hands alone. You bet it shows in the way your walking, you're used to people staring at this point, it comes with wearing beskar, but the way people are quickly stumbling to get out of your way as you angrily stride through the streets, crowds parting for you so you can pass, you know you probably seem more intimidating than usual.

Stepping into the nearby cantina, is instant relief. It’s much cooler in here, but you try not to relax too much and lose that power in your stance as you enter. Something feels off, when you notice the reactions in the bar. The stares and hushed whispering were normal to you, but something about it was different this time. Maybe the heat was getting to your head. You stride over to the bar and silently take a seat. The patron in the seat next to yours, quickly gets up to move away from you, and you don’t even bother to look in his direction.

The bartender in front of you, polishing glasses speaks before you get the chance, “Let me guess, you want information on the bomber.” You tilt your visor up to him a bit surprised. How did he know? “You’re friend already came by, I told him everything I knew, I’ve got nothing else for you.” Now you’re really confused. You cock your helmet slightly to the side quizzically without saying a word. Friend? You don’t have any friends. And definitely not any you would be working on a bounty with. Not anymore at least. The bartender seems to catch your confusion so he continues, “The other mandalorian.” Other mandalorian? There was a mandalorian here hunting your bounty? when you don't move he elaborates, “The big one, uh you know--real shiny guy, all chrome and whatnot…” the bartender trails off not knowing how else to describe him. Well, that's surely interesting. Suddenly you decide maybe you need to investigate this...shiny mandalorian. You nod at the bartender as a quiet thank you as you rise silently from your seat at the bar. You toss a couple credits onto the counter for the information, even if it's not what you were initially looking for. The bartender at the sight of the credits points you in the direction of where he had seen this mysterious mandalorian head off to, likely understanding now, that the two of you were most likely indeed, not friends.

It doesn’t take long to spot him. He must have just left the cantina not too long before you arrived, he was close by, and the reflective beskar stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd that was parting for him in the same way it had for you. You kept your distance, keeping out of sight but trailing behind just enough that you wouldn't lose him. You knew damn well, that he probably knew you were following him, any truly skilled bounty hunter would realize that fact, let alone a mandalorian. Your theory was proved correct when he suddenly took a turn and dipped into an alleyway. You weren’t trying to sneak up on him, but you still kept your distance, turning the same corner and following him until you lost the crowd completely. The both of you walking to a part of town with no one, the bustling of the marketplace becoming faded white nose in the background. He makes a few more turns and you follow a few feet behind, until you go to turn the next corner and he's gone, no longer in front of you.

But you’re no fool, in a flash you whip around behind you, your blaster unholstered and pointed straight in front of you. He’s standing there, his own blaster mirroring yours. You both stand there, perfectly still, unmoving, blasters pointed to each other, fingers on their respective triggers. He speaks first, “Why are you following me?” but he doesn't move an inch “Why are you hunting my bounty?” you quip back. Making sure to stress the fact that this is your bounty, not his. You need those credits, you can’t afford to let them slip away from you when you have no way off this sandy shithole.

He tilts his visor at you slightly but doesn't reply. So you continue, “The bomber is mine, I suggest you find someone else to hunt down. I’ve got this one handled.” and by that, you mean if he does anything to compromise your ability to collect this quarry, you won't hesitate to kill him too, and you know he knows it...doesn’t he? The mysterious mandalorian doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move a muscle and neither do you. The silence between the two of you carries a tension just as deadly as the blasters you have pointed at each other.

With him standing in front of you like this, you’re able to get a better look at him. You look with only your eyes, careful not to move your head at all, as to not give him any indication you’re looking anywhere other than his visor, which is staring deadpan into yours. The bartender wasn’t exaggerating when he said this strange mandalorian was shiny and chrome. His beskar armor is unpainted, and beautiful, not a single flaw. You’ve never seen anything like it before. Whoever forged that for him was truly skilled in their craft.

“Your beskar,” You suddenly nod in his direction after the silence drags out far too long, “it’s new.” He still doesn't say anything. He’s giving you nothing. You’ve been doing this job awhile, there's usually something you can pull from, a slight change in breathing, tensing on the shoulders, anything to know what your enemy’s intentions are, but him....he's giving you nothing. “I’m looking for a forge master.” You hope by elaborating, you make your own intentions clearer.

“An Armorer?” he questions, and you nod once slowly. “Don’t have one in your clan?” He tilts his visor at you in inquiry, and you slowly shake your head once.

“I have no clan,” and you can sense his confusion so you continue, “I’m no mandalorian.” you confess, and instantly his blaster arm straightens and you hear the click of his safety switch off. You expected nothing less.

“Beskar belongs to the mandalorians. Hand it over.” His voice is dark and firm in his demands, but you can't help but scoff.

“I may not be a mandalorian, but this armor is mine.” your voice darkens threateningly, “It belonged to someone very important to me, passed down in their family for multiple generations. They’re gone, so now it's mine and I will die defending this armor in their honor.” “Did you inherit it from your father?” his voice through the modulator is firm, unwavering, and when you shake your head, he tries again, “Your mother?” You shake your head again. “Then it’s not yours, take it off...or I will” he threatens taking a step forward.

You take that step forward as an attack in itself, there's no way in hell anyone will take this armor from you, you quickly lunge towards him in a flash and he goes for you. You go to grab for his blaster, but at the same time he grabs yours and next thing you know, both your blasters are skittering across the sand in opposite directions. You both snap your gaze back and your visors meet each other, pausing for just a second before you're immediately swinging in his direction, aiming directly for his unarmored throat. He catches your fist, and swings with his free hand, you duck expertly out of the way and knee him right in the gut below the beskar chest plate. He doubles over, but manages to kick out one of your ankles causing you to stumble, and he goes for another swing. You jump back the best you can, and punch him perfectly in his unarmored side. He groans loudly at the impact, and stumbles back, but then before you know it, he gets you right back, and then again, his beskar fist colliding with the side of your helmet. It knocks you to the ground, your vision blurs again reminding you of your earlier injury from the crash. You shake your head and try to regain your footing, but he lunges down to grab you. You both struggle on the sandy ground before you get a hold of one of his arms and kick him up with both feet, hauling him over you, so he lands roughly on his back behind you.

He scrambles to get up, but you’re too quick, you’re on top of him pressing the mouth of his own blaster under his jaw. He doesn’t move and the only thing that can be heard is the rough modulated breathing of the two of you through your helmets. He moves the slightest amount, you're not sure if it's to adjust or to try to get up but you won’t risk it. You press his blaster farther to the underside of his jaw and click the safety off, a threat you think he understands well. You will absolutely not hesitate to kill him if he makes a wrong move. You’ve had a bad day, blowing a hole through his head would be the first good thing to happen to you, but at the same time, he clearly knows where to find what you're looking for and you want to get that information from him before you kill him.

“The armor is mine,” you say gruffly through your heavy breathing. You nudge the blaster into him again, just to make sure you’re being clear, “and if you, or anyone so much as lays a finger on it, I will kill you.” He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move an inch. Neither do you.

Instantly heat blasts against the side of you, and white noise erupts in your ears, a powerful force sends the both you flying sideways and slamming into the wall of the other building next to you, smoke and sand fly up and surround the air around you. You’re groaning as you slowly try to pick yourself up off the sandy floor, the heat from the fire building next to you quickly heating up your armor. It takes you a second to realize what's going on. The bomber. You had almost forgotten about your bounty, you were so transfixed on the strange mandalorian next to you, grunts coming from his modulator as he struggles to his feet. There's another explosion next to you and you try to keep steady scanning with your visor through the smoke to see if you can catch a glimpse of your quarry--and there! It's quick, but unmistakable as you see his heat signature duck away behind the roof of a neighboring building.

“Stay out of my way.” you spit darkly at the rival mandalorian, before turning and breaking into a sprint in the direction of your bounty.

It doesn’t take you long to catch up to him. You're running through the alley beneath the cloaked bomber while he jumps from roof to roof above you, desperately trying to shake you off his tail. He throws explosives in your direction, but you evade them expertly, bursting through the clouds of smoke and sand just when he thinks he's gotten you. He thinks he's being smart when he decides to throw another explosive ahead of you this time, blocking the rest of the alley with rubble from the surrounding buildings as their walls crumble. He lets out a loud and victorious laugh as he continues to run, celebrating far too early, not realizing he's made a critical error.

Instead of the rubble halting you in your pursuit, you use it to your advantage, nimbly leaping off a large piece and hauling yourself into the roof. Now that you're level with him, and off the maker forsaken sand, you start gaining on him, quick. He looks back in horror at you and tries to speed up, but you both know it's futile. You would have shot him already, but you left your blaster in the sand, forgetting to pick it up after the explosion, so you have to use other means. You grip the vibroblade strapped to your thigh and unsheath it. You’re just about to lunge for him, grab him and pull him to the ground, but something hits him and he drops instantly onto the roof below him.

You come to a screeching halt, almost tripping over his body. What the hell happened to him? You look down at him, convulsing on the floor, he's been stunned, quite literally electrified. You immediately know who's responsible and angrily look up to see that damned shiny mandalorian a few roofs away, lower his rifle and start to stride across to you. The sun reflecting off the top of his helmet in such an irritating way.

“I told you to stay out of my way!” you shout in his direction, “This is MY bounty! I’ve got it handled!” you grab a pair of cuffs off your belt and drop to your knees to cuff the bastard below you roughly despite his lack of resistance.

“You were too slow.” he says matter-of-factly as he approaches you. Oh you could kill him, you're tempted. The fact that he not only had the audacity to take down your bounty, but now dares to mock you? It would be an absolute pleasure to sink your blade into his neck.

Your thoughts are cut short when a gloved hand holds your blaster down to you. You look at it in confusion, then tilt your helmet to look up at the reflective beskar staring down at you. He nods towards you and nudges the blaster towards you again. You snatch it from his grip and put it in your holster without a word, and haul yourself up onto your feet with the bounty. Keeping a firm grip on his cuffed wrists behind his back while he struggles to hold himself up, “Bounty is mine.” you remind him, your visor burning a hole through his with how intensely you stare.

“I shot him down,” he reminds you.

“I had it handled,” you shoot back at him. Suddenly you’re curious, and you have an idea. You tilt your helmet up at him, if this works, you might have a solution to your crash landing earlier. “How much are they offering you? For the bounty.” He doesn't answer, you assume it's because he doesn’t trust you, so you offer your commission price readily, “Mines ten thousand.” with the way his visor snaps straight ahead in response, you know you have him beat. Probably by a lot. “I’ll tell you what,” you continue, “let's split the reward.” He cocks his helmet to the side in surprise...or possibly confusion? Maybe both. You can't really tell. So you repeat yourself, “let's split the reward. Five thousand between the two of us.”

“What's the catch?" Well, it’s not a no, so far so good.

“I need a ride,” you admit with a modulated sigh running through your helmet, “I had a bit of a rough landing. My ship’s scrapped."

"Five thousand credits isn't enough for a ship."

"That's not your problem. We'll part ways after we split the credits. We got a deal or not?"

"Only if you hand over that beskar when we split the credits."

you pretend to mull it over in your head, but you know that nothing in the universe could possibly convince you to give up your armor. you will die with it, and even in death you will take it to your grave.

"I'll consider it." you say finally. you know it's not what he wants to hear, but you hope it will be enough.

"Then it's a deal." He nods and doesn't say anything more, just starts walking in what you assume is the direction of his ship, so you kick the heels of the bounty you're still holding up by the cuffs.

"Move it." you snap at him and start pushing him forward as you follow the silver armor ahead of you. the bounty is still barely hanging onto consciousness, dragging his feet, you're doing most of the work for him.

Then suddenly the bounty stops all together like dead weight, digging his heels in, refusing to budge.

"I said move it!" you nudge him again roughly, more aggressive this time, but the bomber doesn't comply. His shoulders start shaking, rumbling beneath you, it takes you a second to realize he's laughing. "what's so funny?" you jostle him lightly to encourage a response. and at that, he throws his head back and starts laughing maniacally. That shock bolt from earlier must have done something to him, fried his brain or something. He just keeps laughing, like he can't control it. the mandalorian in front of you has stopped walking, and turned back around to you and the bounty to investigate the commotion.

"You're too late" the bounty spits out darkly between laughs, and he roars out louder, finding whatever it is he's going on about absolutely hysterical.

"What are you talking about? you roughly yank him around to face you and his laughing subsides leaving a sickening smile ripping across his face. He cranes his neck to look back at the bustling marketplace and begins roaring with laughter once again. but he's cut off at the sound of multiple pieces of metal hitting the tile of the roof in front of him.

"Talking about these?" the mandalorian asks, tossing another destroyed detonator bomb to the bounty’s feet. and the bomber looks at the pile horrified. it doesn't take long for you to put two and two together. This shiny mandalorian must have caught onto the bomber's plan early on and found all the hidden explosives long before you ran into him.

The bomber continues to stare down at the destroyed explosives in distress, realizing his plan failed, before that same sickening smile breaks out across his face and he chuckles out, “You missed one.”

He bursts back into a horrible laughter, and you suddenly have a pit in your stomach at the sound of it, you yank the bounty roughly by the neck, “Where is it?” your voice is rough and threatening, but he just continues to laugh maniacally. You can’t take it, todays been too much and his horrible laughter pushes you over the edge. Still grasping at his throat, you slam your armored fist hard straight into the center of his face, cutting his laughter off all together. He hangs his head limply, blood dripping down from his mouth, where his disgusting smile once was. “Where is it?” you grit out, pulling him in close to your visor with your grip tightening around his throat.

The bounty in your grip lifts his head just enough so his gaze meets your visor, and he smiles again brokenly, blood continuing to drop down from the middle of it. “Who knows?” he shrugs. Then spits blood at your visor, chuckling again weakly at you. Your veins turn to ice at the blatant disrespect and you can’t help yourself. You slam your fist into him again, harder this time, sending him flying to the ground at your feet, unmoving, out cold from your attack. Your stare lingers on the bloodied bounty beneath you too long, violence swirling through you. How dare he--how fucking dare he disrespect the armor like that--how dare he disrespect him like that.

Your fists clench at your sides, as you try to calm yourself. Your helmet snaps to the chrome mandalorian besides you, his visor shamelessly staring directly at you. You wonder if he can sense the anger whirling inside of you. “Where did you find the others?” You manage to grit out through your tight jaw. “The explosives.” Everything about you is rigid and tense from the altercation.

“At vendor tables he was harassing a few days ago, after the first bombing at a neighboring settlement. I checked all of them.” The chrome helmet doesn't move its gaze off of you. He's standing statuesque, unmoving. You look back to the bomber still unconscious on the floor. You’re trying to rack your brain, think where the last explosive could possibly be. You haven't even had the chance to investigate anything yet, you didn’t even get a chance to gather information, you immediately ended up tangled up with the strange mandalorian next to you when you made it into town. That’s when it hits you--the cantina. “Did you check the cantina?” you snap your visor to meet his again, and he shakes his head. “Keep an eye on him,” you nudge the bounty on the floor with your foot, then take off in the direction of the bar without another word. You have to be quick, you don’t know how much time is left until the bomb detonates and kills everyone in that cantina.

The bartender greets you when you rush in, “Ah! Your back! Did you find your friend?” but you ignore him, you don't have time for pleasantries. You start scanning the entirety of the bar rapidly, looking for any sign of anything unusual. You don’t even know where to begin, patrons staring at you and murmuring to each other while you silently search around--but then you hear it. The faintest of noises barely cutting through the hum of the scene around you. You follow the sound of the achingly familiar beeping, it's at the bar, close to where you sat earlier today. The bartender mistakenly thinks you’re walking over to him directly, and panics at the way you’re striding over in his direction, with purpose. “H-hey, listen-- I don’t know what I did, but i'm sure we can work something out--there's no need for any un--unnecessary violence...,” he backs up nervously, his hands out in front of him trying to show he's unarmed and willingly surrendering.

You continue to ignore him, and he swallows audibly as you make it to the edge of the bar, but you immediately drop down to reach below it, snatching the blinking explosive from where it's stuck under the bar and rising back up, holding it in your hand. He stares at you--stunned. Now realizing what your intentions were as you toss the explosive to the ground and crush it with your boot. The light fades from within the device and you pick it back up, staring at the cracked device in your hand. Your mind wanders for just a second as you remember your nightmare from earlier, the painful memory that still haunts your dreams. The environment of the cantina fading entirely until it's just you, and the broken metal in your hand. You swear you can almost still see the faintest of light blinking from inside it.

“Thank you.” you snap back to reality at the bartender's words, suddenly realizing where you are. You nod at him once accepting his gratitude. “Drinks are on me--always! Forever! Anything you want, you can have, I owe you that much…” he fades off looking down to the destroyed explosive in your hand. You smile at him, knowing he can't see it, and nod again.

You’re about to reply, but the bartender cuts you off, looking behind you, “Ah! I see you found your friend!” You turn to look towards the entrance of the cantina, where you find the shiny and chrome mandalorian standing, the unconscious bounty slung over his shoulder, while his visor is staring at you. You hold up the destroyed piece of metal in your hand for him to see, and at that, he's already turning to head out. You go to follow him, but stop when you hear the bartender start to speak again, “Maker,” he breathes out, “I’ve heard stories of mandalorians before. Never thought I would see one in person--let alone two!” he chuckles to himself.

You turn your helmet in his direction over your shoulder without turning fully towards him, “I’m no mandalorian...” your voice ringing through the modulator at an audible volume, despite how quietly you feel you say it. You don’t wait for a response, you immediately continue your way outside of the cantina to catch up to the stranger carrying your bounty ahead of you.

----------------------

When you finally arrive at his ship, just on the outskirts of town, you’re a little surprised to see his ship isn’t much nicer than yours was. It’s old and worn down. It looks like it's been abused to no end. “Are you sure you’re able to give me a ride? She doesn’t look like she would last the journey through the atmosphere…” “Where’s your wreck? We’ll stop by so you can grab what you need.” You know he ignored your question on purpose, and he hits a button on his vambrace, which triggers the slow lowering of the ship's ramp, kicking up sand around it.

“I’ll punch the coordinates into your nav comp. Just get that asshole in carbonite.” You’re already climbing up the ramp to his ship, not waiting for an invitation, and walking into the dark of the ship's hull, its armored owner following close behind you, your bounty still slung over his shoulder unconscious. You take a quick look around as the ramp closes behind the two of you, dim lights illuminating the space. It’s not big by any means. You make note of all the crates and other miscellaneous goods neatly tucked around the hull’s nooks and crannies, it’s surprisingly cozy.

While the mandalorian moves past you towards the carbonite chamber, you take that as your sign, and you make your way up the ladder of what you assume to be the cockpit of the ship. Opening the door once you make it to the top and stepping inside, you let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the control panel. It’s familiar enough, thank the maker. With how old the ship is you were expecting the controls to be unrecognizable and ancient, but you could pilot this. Easy. You step up to the navigation panel and punch in the coordinates of your wreck.

You go to sit in the pilot's seat and initiate for takeoff, but stop suddenly. This isn’t your ship, you should wait for him. You’re going to be stuck with this stranger of a mandalorian in hyperspace for an unknown amount of time, you don’t want to overstep and cause another scuffle. He's, unfortunately, your only way off this planet, and he's got your bounty. You should be considerate seeing as you’re a guest, and he's doing you a favor. A five thousand credit taxi ride...maker what a shitty deal you negotiated yourself into.

You settle into the copilots seat, and groan slightly as you sink into it. The soreness from the crash earlier is starting to settle in now that all your adrenaline from the day has worn off. Your glaring headache is becoming more and more unbearable. You reach up and, with a click and a hiss of the release, slide your helmet off your head and rest it in your lap. You breathe in deeply, maker...nothing beats the initial hit of fresh air when your helmet comes off. You lean back further in your seat trying to relax against the plush, worn leather seat. Everything aches, you're exhausted. You close your eyes and continue to breathe deeply as you enjoy the feeling of air hitting your face without your helmet. You don’t even hear the door to the cockpit slide open while you take a moment to relax.

He says something, as he approaches behind you, but you didn’t quite catch what it was, so you spin in your chair to face him, “Sorry,” you shake your head slightly, “I was zoning out, what was that?” but he doesn't say anything or move. The armored wall of a man looks frozen, tense, his body language is all rigid and weird compared to how he usually stands. You just stare back at him confused. Is there something outside? You look behind you and out the windows of the cockpit, feeling your hair brush against you at the movement. Nothing there. You turn back to him, “Uhh? Everything okay, shiny?” He continues to stand there staring at you, stiff as a board, before he suddenly looks away from you and makes his way to the pilots seat, sitting down without a word and initiating for take off.

What the kriff was that about? You continue to stare at him confused, hoping for an explanation, but he continues flicking the controls and grabbing hold of the thrusters to take off without a word. You know he's focused on flying, but at the same time, it's really starting to feel like he's purposely avoiding looking anywhere in your direction. You can’t help the way you tilt your head at him in suspicion, but you decide to let it go. You just met the guy, he doesn't owe you anything other than the ride you agreed on. But maker, is it going to bother you the whole time.

You ride the rest of the way to your ship in silence, luckily it's not too far and you make it there relatively quickly. The second his ship touches the sand next to yours, you jump out of your seat tucking your helmet under your arm. “I’ll be quick. I don’t have much.” you wait a second for a response, but he’s still avoiding looking at you, and doesn't say anything. You tilt your head at him again with growing suspicion, but head out regardless without another word.

Stepping back onto your trashed ship feels surreal. Looking at all your belongings scattered around and trying to decide what to take is upsetting. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this, having to leave behind the majority of your belongings and start over, but it never gets easier. You pack mostly practical things, the essentials: clothes, medical supplies, rations, whatever weapons you have. You figure you should probably bring your blanket, you aren’t quite sure how long your journey will be and hyperspace is cold.

When you head over to your cot however, your gut wrenches seeing what you still had of his things scattered throughout the space. The old box you kept some sentimental items in had spilled, scattering the contents across your bed. Some of his old clothes, a crumpled note he left you once, you chuckle lightly to yourself at the memory of it. A necklace, he got it for you as a gift on Coruscant. You pick up his old sleep shirt that's bundled up in the corner and bring it up to your face, taking a deep inhale. It still smells like him. Despite sleeping with it every night, his scent still clings to the material. It's faint, not as strong as it once was, but it's there. Your heart aches, not a day goes by that you don’t miss him. You gingerly and lovingly fold it up neatly and pack it away with the rest of the belongings you plan to take with you.

You haul the large bags of your belongings over your shoulder, off your own ship and carry them up the ramp of the stranger mandalorian’s ship. You hit the control panel on the wall once you're inside, closing the ramp behind you. You set your things down in an unoccupied corner and make your way back up to the cockpit, helmet still under your arm. When you enter the cockpit however, you pause.

There’s a strange cooing coming from the pilot's seat where the mandalorian is sitting. Was...was that sound coming from him? There’s no way. You slowly make your way over so you can peer over his shoulder, you gasp at the sight of the green creature bundled up in his lap. It’s big dark eyes staring into yours. “What is that thing?” you mutter out, barely able to squeeze the words out as you stare at it curiously.

“A child.” You furrow your brows together at his answer. Well no shit. That was clearly a baby, but not like any baby you’ve ever seen. You don't recognize its species. Let alone the mystery as to why the mandalorian in front of you has it in his possession. “Is it...yours?” you're not quite sure how to vocalize all of the questions running through your head. Is the mandalorian the same mysterious species under that beskar? How has he managed hunting bounties with a youngling on board?

“For now.” You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. You slowly lower yourself into the copilot’s seat, not once removing your gaze from the green baby in his arms.

“And that means?” You tilt your head and the baby mirrors you, cooing at you.

“He is mine until I can reunite him with his own kind. I’m looking for a jedi to take him on.” the baby reaches out to you babbling happily. You go to hold him, reaching out to take him from the mandalorian’s arms, but stop in an instant when his visor suddenly snaps up to look at you. He's doing that thing again, just staring at you intensely. You decide to ignore it, more transfixed by the baby. “May I?” you tilt your hands still outstretched in front of you, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that he still doesn't trust you. He just met you, another bounty hunter, and now you're asking to hold his baby. Much to your surprise however, he allows it and cautiously hands the baby to you, his visor never moving from your face.

The baby coos happily and reaches up to you as you pull him to your armored chest. He’s adorable, the way his little teeth poke through his smile, it swells through your chest. Oh he is absolutely precious. You wiggle your finger at him and he latches his tiny green ones around it. You haven't even noticed the mandalorian still staring at you. “Does he have a name?” you press your finger lightly to the baby's nose and his little green smile grows larger as he giggles in response. You can feel yourself smiling too, you can't help it, it's contagious.

“Grogu.” You can still feel his visor on your when he replies. “Little Grogu…” you repeat softly, stoking the baby’s cheek. His big ears perking up at the sound of his name. He reaches up with his little fingers, so you hold him up a little higher against your chest, and he grabs onto a piece of your hair. You chuckle lightly at how captivated he is by you, in the same way you are with him. “He’s adorable.” you finally break your gaze from the baby in your arms, looking up to the shiny wall of beskar sitting next to you. Your smile fades into a frown when you see he's still staring at you. Okay, this is getting weird. “What's your deal?” you snap out at him, the baby still babbling away in your arms, his little hands reaching out to touch your face and hair. “Why are you staring at me like that? We got a problem?”

The mandalorian quickly averts his gaze to the control panel, and begins initiating take off again, punching coordinates into the navigation. “No, sorry.” He mutters, barely audible through the helmets modulator.

“Then what is it? Is there something on my face?” and with that he pauses. Stops flicking switches for just a second too long, before continuing. “No.” He grabs a hold of the thrusters and pulls back, lifting the ship off the ground, and taking off. Maker, his responses are so--frustrating. Absolutely infuriating. How many more questions do you have to ask before you get to the bottom of this? You decide to give up again, it’s not worth your efforts. Let him be difficult if he wants, you’ll forget about him soon enough when you part ways. You turn your attention back to Grogu, immediately your irritation dissolves into nothing. Maker, you’ve only held this child in your arms maybe five minutes and you are already absolutely enamored with him.

By the time you make the jump into hyperspace, the child has fallen asleep soundly in your arms. The mandalorian stands, and carefully takes him from you, descending the ladder into the hull with him to put him to bed, you assume. Now that you're alone in the cockpit, you look down to the helmet in your lap with a sigh. You grasp onto it lightly and tilt it up to stare into the visor. You reflect on your day; the crash, the scuffle with the strange mandalorian, the rush of trying to find the last bomb your bounty hid. Nothing ever goes smoothly for you anymore. Everyday feels like a struggle now that he's gone. It's been over a year since he died--almost two, you realize suddenly. The nightmares still plague you almost every night. You clench your eyes shut, and shake your head lightly trying not to think about any part of that horrible day. You should have died with him--you were supposed to. Whatever kind of sick joke the maker was playing, saving you and not him, you’ll never understand. You flutter your eyes back open, another sad sigh escaping your lips, as you stare back into the familiar visor. The smear of stars through hyperspace reflecting off of it. Hollow...empty. You gently hold the beskar up in your hands, and lean forward to press your forehead into it, taking a deep breath as you do so.

You gasp lightly when you hear the cockpit doors open, and pull away from the helmet in your hands as the new and mysterious mandalorian you just met enters and resumes his seat in his respective chair. You’re suddenly embarrassed, hoping he didn’t see that. Such a personal and intimate moment you don't want to be witnessed by anyone, let alone someone you just met... and quite frankly don’t like. You relax slightly after a moment of silence, and lean back into your seat, resting your aching body against the back of it, closing your eyes against the streaks of light coming through the window.

“Who did it belong to?” His modulated voice ringing out through the silence catches you off guard.

“Hmm?” you open your eyes and turn your head slightly against the back of your seat to face him. He hasn't moved his gaze from the cockpit window.

“Your armor. You said it belonged to someone important to you.” You suddenly get the feeling he definitely saw you earlier, when you had your forehead to the helmet in your lap, and you tense a bit. You’re just staring up at him cautiously, uncertain if you can trust him.

You’re quiet for too long before you let out the softest of sighs and take another deep breath in, “Maybe another time...” is all you can manage. You’re not sure why, but the idea of telling him seems impossible. It's not a secret by any means, you haven't hesitated to tell anyone before. Maybe it’s because you're not sure you can trust him, or simply the fact that you don’t like him. Maybe it’s because he's a mandalorian...

It's probably all of those reasons and more, all mixed up. It doesn't really matter, there's no reason for him to know. You will be parting ways with this mysterious mandalorian soon enough. Thankfully he doesn’t press the issue. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. The two of you ride your way through the silence of hyperspace without another word. Only the low rumbling of the engine beneath you filling the air. *** MASTER - Next

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #mandalorian fanfic #fan fic #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction

73 notes · View notes

projectshadovv · 3 years

Note

Thoughts on shadamy? Or how you see the potential behind their dynamic? 🥺👉👈

gosh i havent thought that much about shadamy in awhile!! i was REALLLLY into it tho, just as much as i was into sonamy, like i honestly couldnt decide which i liked more.

(under read more cause once again i am Just Talk Talk Talk)

obviously now sonshadamy is the way

but ok well, i think i ship them more platonically firstofall (tho im not against romantically, we just haven't seen them together that many times? i would LOOOVE more interaction with them) and she'd be really good for helping him open up more about his thoughts and feelings, encourage him to be kind and thoughtful. people like to say that Sonic is a lot like Maria, and maybe they are similar!- Maria never got the chance to be adventurous or active though, and in SA2, Amy clearly reminded Shadow of Maria just as he was about to watch Earth be destroyed. She reminded and showed Shadow the actual meaning in Maria's words, what she wanted for Shadow and thats how he was able to save the world.

Amy's a really 'get into her feelings' kind of person and i can see her and Shadow having a few arguements and disagreements and lack of communication and understanding between them. It would def be really rocky at first (while Sonic on the other hand, just *understands* Shadow and leaves him be if needed, or confronts him directly and straight to the point). It would take a long time for Amy to really understand Shadow who's a closed door, and Amy's a open book and maybe that scares Shadow. He doesnt understand someone like her, who is so selfless and kind and lends a helping hand to anyone in need, and maybe he hates being on the other hand of that dynamic- he sees it as being weak, and Amy could teach him that theres bravery in kindness.

On a happier note tho, some activities i can see them enjoying together. Clearly Amy cant keep up with him in combat or speed, but she has a good endurance, and i can see her taking him out shopping or to local game arcades, or maybe help him with gardening. he grumbles and complains at the thought of being around people and doesnt like the center of attention but i think he'd think the experience is worth it

In battle, he'd be pretty annoyingly worried about Amy, she's not as strong or skilled as him and Sonic, or as elusive and cunning as Rouge- and you know, he wouldnt wanna lose someone close to him a second time, so he'd prob jump in front of Amy all the time and Amy would get soooo pissed off at him and theyd just get into a yelling match in the middle of the battlefield and everyone else is just face palming and its sooo awkward for everyone.

Finally, sonic who's known amy like his whole life, assures Shadow that shes more than capable of taking care of herself. Yes she was the damsel in distress in the past, but she's gotten stronger, not only for her friends but for herself and he's seen the improvement. it takes a lot of convincing to calm Shadow and so maybe he tries to work together more as a team with her. He's not used to that, so he'll still mess up and still try to get the most enemies defeated, but thats because he wants all the glory. it's still kinda annoying to Amy but he's trying i suppose!

Or maybe I'm giving Shadow too much credit, maybe he leaves Amy by herself TOO much, leaves her to fend for himself, refuses to work as a coordinated team. He's always worked alone, and when he doesn't its with Rouge, and its more like theyre fighting alone but together- if that makes sense. This irritates Amy cause 'arent we friends? friends look out for each other' and he'd be like, ive always been able to look out for myself' and she'll say 'yes but not all of us are Ultimate Lifeforms like you. What's all your power and strength for if not used to protect those who need you?' and once again she reminds him of Maria's promise. She's really good at humbling him and gently or harshly putting him back in his place depending on whats going on.

Amy of course finds herself stumped from time to time and goes to Rouge a lot for advice, to which Rouge is happy to help but says sometimes its best to leave things alone as she's learned to do when it comes to Shadow. Rouge is kinda relived too, now that Amy's trying to take over as some sort of caretaker for Shadow. Takes some of the stress out of the older girl's hair. Amy can't leave things alone though and just pushes and pushes Shadow until he snaps at her and lets her have it. It sucks but at least he's communicating. Again, Amys not one to back down and tells him that what he does hurts her and his friends. Shadow grumbles that he doesnt care but he doooes when it comes to Rouge and Amy, and eventually learns that to have the girls stop pestering him is to just *tell them* what hes thinking or feeling. He learns its just easier to do that than have them bothering him for days and days.

this is a lot of "amy makes shadow a better guy" so let me think of how Shadow helps Amy for once, okay so obvs i think he'd be up to sparring with her on a lower level to help her advance her skills. She becomes a much stronger fighter. Since she doesnt have the speed he or Sonic does, he teacher her to put all she has into her Piko Hammer, helps her go through rigorous training to better wield the weapon in a more convenient manner rather than just swinging her hammer around and wasting energy when it doesnt hit. He'll even rope Omega in who's more than happy to shoot a moving target. Amy will have to skillfully weave and dodge through it all, or use her hammer to block or deflect the projectiles.

I guess he'd tried to teach her to be more careful of the people she trusted, not to trust so easily and openly. But I think she'd be pretty adamant about it, after all, she trusted him pretty much as soon as she met Shadow, and when she met Omega (E 123 Gamma? sorry cant remember if theyre the same character), along with a bunch of other baddies. She's not afraid of getting hurt or being wrong or trying to be the try hard good guy, she cares more about giving second chances to those who want it. Shadow and Amy agree to disagree but its brought up when its relevant.

hopefully this is good enough?? idk the shadamy fanfics i read back in the day, Shadow was either a really emo guy in highschool or some guy in a gang or mafia, and along came amy this really preppy girl who'd bring him out of his shell and into the sunshine, until one day her life was in danger and he'd have to save her, and sonic was either the villian or some asshole jock kid who get jealous now that amy wasnt always on him, or it was shadow's dad LOL that was THE formula for shadamy fics back then.

#me: huh i dont have many thoughts #me: i am ALL THOUGHTS

13 notes · View notes

classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

Text

Traveling in time with Marty McFly would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(I wrote this as a slight friends to lovers type of scenario so I hope thats okay! Also, this is based on just the first movie so if you’d like certain time periods or something then feel free to request.)

- You’d been working for Doc alongside Marty for a while so of course you’d be invited to help with the DeLoreans send off. Doc was excited, the tapes were rolling; Everything was going great...until it wasn’t.

- The Libyans arrived and ruined everything, forcing you to join Marty inside the DeLorean in an attempt to save your skin. Soon enough the two of you were going through a terrible blast to the past, still mourning your lost friend and scared half to death.

- Fast Forward a little, or rather rewind a lot, and the two of you are sat panicking worse than ever in the front seat of a stylish time machine. You get out of the car as quickly as he does, gazing at the long empty road and the sign that proves you aren’t where you’re supposed to be.

“Hey Marty?”

“Yeah....”

“Do me a favor and pinch me...hard.”

- And so he does, asking that you return the favor once you yelp in pain. The two of you shut your eyes tight, praying that once you open them again you’ll be back home in bed but alas, no luck.

“I don’t think we’re dreaming.” You say, grabbing onto his arm and feeling more helpless than you’ve ever felt before.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” He responds, his eyes returning to the Lyon Estates sign once more.

- With nothing else to do, you help him stash the DeLorean and start your long journey to town.

- Once you get there, you’re torn between being amazed and horrified. I mean, you’re in the 1950′s! ...But you’re also stuck in the 1950′s.

- You’re sure you look downright insane to the locals, stumbling around like you’re experiencing everything for the first time, but you frankly don’t care. You’re just wondering what you’ll have to do to return home, or if you’ll ever get to return home for that matter.

- The two of you walk into the diner and take your seats at the luncheonette. You end up interrupting and ordering for the two of you yourself, deciding to be merciful to your frazzled friend and not wanting to suffer from anymore secondhand embarrassment.

“What my friend here meant to say was that we’d like two coffee’s, Decaf.”

- Marty rubs a hand down his face and leans his forehead against your shoulder, groaning quietly in “silent” gratitude. You get your coffees, taking a sip just as the door of the diner swings open to reveal the one and only Biff.

- You soon find out that the young man beside you is Marty’s father to which you can only respond with a whispered “Holy Crap McFly, your dads hot.”. Marty still isn’t sure how to feel about it though at the time he just gave you a disturbed look.

- Now it’s at this time that I should mention: Marty has had a pretty big crush on you for a while now. The main reason he hadn’t asked you out yet was because he really didn’t want to lose you as a friend or have to face you every time he visited Doc; in case you did wind up rejecting him.

- The reason I’m telling you this is because after Biff and his friends make fun of Marty’s “life preserver”, he notices the babe sitting beside him. Now Biff wouldn't be Biff if he didn’t try to flirt with a dorks girl so he gives you a line and Marty uses everything within him not to launch himself at the bully.

- He has a silent victory when you just scoff at the boy and turn back to your coffee. Biff gives one of those tough guy, undeterred responses and finishes his threat to George before walking out with his buddies.

- You turn back to Marty, watching awkwardly as he uncomfortably stares down his father. After a minute, you lightly hit his arm and give him a look, trying to make him stop. The two of you have a silent argument, giving each other different facial expressions and mouthing words. You’re both interrupted by Goldie's speech.

- You’re the one to first notice George’s absence, prompting you to pull Marty out of his seat and push him out the doors of the diner.

“You know y/n, you’re really taking this whole time travel thing way too well!”

“That’s because I’ve got you Marty.” He melts.

- You’re sort of just forced to watch from afar as the whole car accident scene unfolds. You spend the rest of the day awkwardly waiting outside the families house with nowhere else to go.

- You have to jog to keep up with him after he runs out of the house. He explains everything to you at a mile a minute, grabbing you by the arm and telling you that it’s really time to find Doc.

~One extremely long conversation about how you’re from the future, the mechanics of time travel, and other interesting tidbits later~

- Marty and you get dressed up in 50′s wear, which he finds particularly adorable on you, and head over to the school. You quickly come across his father and without even thinking, you storm up to him, ripping the sign off his back and standing up to the jerks who were tormenting him.

- In theory, your actions are harmless but they proved to have a much bigger effect than you intended. George thanks you, commenting shyly how nobodies ever stood up for him before to which you respond that nobody deserves to be treated that way.

“You’re beautiful.... I-I mean, you’re heart is! Not that you aren’t! You’re very attractive, it’s just... What I mean to say is that you’re very nice.” Shit.

- It became increasingly obvious that George was now infatuated with you. You’d just royally screwed up, and all because you wanted to be a decent person.

- As Marty whisked George away, neither of you could ignore the fact that the boy was trying to look back at you as he was being pulled.

- When Marty attempted to introduce his parents to each other he found that it was completely in vain. His mother hardly even noticed his father and his father didn’t even seem to mind all that much. Why? Because he was too busy sneaking glances at you.

“Oh dear. We certainly have a predicament on our hands.” Doc muttered once you all joined back with each other.

“Great job y/n. You made my dad fall in love with you in what? Two minutes?” Marty quipped sarcastically. Not that he could really blame his father, he was sure he would have fallen for you even quicker. Well now you had to think of a plan, and fast.

- Lunchtime came and you were sure you had the perfect excuse to let the boy down easy, getting him and Lorraine together in the process. You and Marty made your way to the boys table, sitting down and greeting the nervous boy who looked ecstatic to see you.

- George greeted you back, saying how he was hoping he’d see you again and how he wanted to thank you by taking you out for a milkshake or something. This was your chance. You opened your mouth and...

“Actually George, you see, we’re kind of dating. You know, going steady.” Your mouth snapped shut, eyes widening as you turned to look at Marty.

“Oh....” George replied somewhat dejected.

- You quickly jumped in, saying how you knew he had a thing for Lorraine and how you wanted to help them get together. He tried to deny it before he shyly asked you what you had in mind.

- You try to give him some dating advice but he quickly decides that it would never work. After all, how’s he supposed to win over Lorraine’s affection when she’s obsessed with “Calvin”.

- You help Marty dress up as “Darth Vader” all the while seriously questioning his sanity and how he thinks it’s a good idea.

- He gives you this smug, prideful look when George approaches you the next day, rambling about how an alien told him he has to ask Lorraine out. You just smack him on the arm and start to try and coach his father.

- Marty somewhat argues with you on what his father should do, giving George the typical male dating advice while you give him the more sensible “what females actually want” advice.

- You sit back with him while George goes to talk with Lorraine, giving him puppy dog eyes while asking to get a good old fashioned malt.

“You know it’s seriously unfair when you do that to me.” He says, digging into his pockets. The kiss on the cheek you give him is worth the trouble.

- Sitting back and watching things go South after he messes with Biff. You realize that things are only going to get worse between him, his mother and his father if you don’t do something so once he’s finished with his getaway, you run over and lay one on him.

- You’re hoping that once Lorraine sees him with “his girlfriend” she’ll realize he’s off limits and be more open to getting with George. It does seem to somewhat work but it certainly makes things between you and your friend a bit awkward.

- You can’t help but think about how you actually enjoyed that kiss and how he seemed to just as much. You pull away from him awkwardly, whispering an apology to him while he shyly reassures you that it’s fine.

- The dance is your last chance to get Marty’s parents back together so you really have to be at the top of your game. Lorraine obviously doesn’t have a date so Marty uses his influence with her to persuade her to double date with him, you and George.

- The plan will go as planned, Marty will convince her to come out to the car with him, “force himself on her” and George will come to her rescue. Except before Marty can even think about going through with the plan, Biff comes in and Marty gets locked in the trunk.

- Long story short, George punches Biff, woos Lorraine and Marty performs on stage before saying goodbye to his parents. You and Marty have a tough final goodbye with Doc and successfully make it into the future, or rather, where you’re from. Doc gets shot, again, but this time he’s equipped with a bulletproof vest and survives, much to your (ecstatic) surprise.

- He drops you and Marty off at the boys house, saying goodbye before departing into the future. Marty, whose arm had been around your shoulder as you watched, turned you around and confessed that he’s liked you for a very long time. You admit that you like him too and the two of you lean in for your first kiss as an actual item.

- You walk home that night happier than ever and in the morning you meet up with him so that the two of you can have a well deserved relaxing day together. Well, that was what you were planning on doing before Doc showed up to whisk you away for another time travel adventure.

- You and Marty share a look before getting into the DeLorean, eager yet scared to see what’s in store for you.

#back to the future headcanons #back to the future imagine #back to the future headcanon #80s movie imagine #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon #marty mcfly imagine #marty mcfly headcanons #marty mcfly headcanon

281 notes · View notes