mcfly july 2024 || 🌲 || day 16 Paradox

“Paradoxes don’t exist.”

Marty stared at No Pines as he lit a cigarette. 

“Of course they do,” Marty said, waving the cigarette smoke away. “What the hell do you think I’ve been running around the space-time continuum trying to stop you for?”

“Is it you? Or is it the space-time continuum preserving itself? You don’t really think you’re that important, do you?”

Marty narrowed his eyes. He swiped the pipe bomb out of No Pines’s hand before he added it to his backpack.

“You think you’re special enough to end time,” Marty said.

“No, I’m badass enough to end time.” 

mcfly july 2024 || 🌲 || day 15 "Erased from Existence"

“Do you know why there’s no Three Pines Marty?”

Marty backed away from No Pines, unaccustomed to the panicked sheen and manic smile.

“It’s because that psychotic, evil, shit stain of a man we know as Three Pines Doc erased him.”

Marty wet his lips. 

“Why?”

“Because he started hunting for another Doc in the space-time continuum to take down this guy.”

Marty’s brow deepened. No way.

“How do you know this?”

“Because he came to my Doc! The next day, Doc asked where my letterman jacket was. Said it ‘looked nice.’

“Guess what that poor Three Pines bastard wore?”

mcfly july 2024 || 🌲 || day 4 Hell Valley Biker Gang Ride

No Pines Marty staggered into Courthouse Square, gawking at the orange chaser lights shooting into the black sky above Biff’s Pleasure Paradise. 

A laugh leapt from him. 

“Good for you, man.”

Maybe Biff would put him up for the night since his house wasn’t his house right now –

“Hey! McFly!”

Marty turned at Needles’s voice, eyes igniting when Needles revved his motorcycle at him. A stream of others coursed around them like bees in a hive.

“Leech got Strickland good and riled up. You coming?”

Marty stared at him, smile curt.

“Is that the son of bitch with the AK-47?”

Oh, look, it's No Pines Marty being a menace again 🙃

RATING: T (explicit language, evil!marty) || GENRE: Angst, Hurt No Comfort || WORDS: 883 || SUMMARY: In the No Pines Timeline, Marty doesn't need to pander to George's love of science fiction to get him to ask Lorraine out.

doctober 2023 || day 29 2023

“You trapped him in a time loop in 2023?” Doc seethed. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Relax,” No Pines Marty said, pacing his cell in the I.F.T. “It’s not a terrible year. Pandemic’s calmed down, people prefer to be indoors alone, and the Barbenheimer thing? Priceless pop culture movement they’ll equate to Woodstock in the future.”

“The Internet, you fool!” Doc pressed. “Once he discovers it, he’ll have access to untold amounts of information!”

No Pines Marty chuckled. 

“Doc, you’re kidding yourself if you think the first thing a guy does with the Internet is look up ‘information’.”

doctober 2023 || day 24 Record Player

Records kept skipping in Marty’s dreams.

He had yet to find the source of the music. Each skip struck deep in his gut like a hammer; something is wrong .

Soon, all he remembered was the skipping — not the dream, not the music. Nothing but the skipping.

There was a rift.

A splice.

Marty blinked at the “Peabody Mall” entrance sign. No Pines Marty skidded his skateboard to a stop next to him, sucking one last lungful of smoke from his cigarette before pitching it into the brush.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

DAY 7: "YOU'RE A JERK WHEN YOU'RE SICK."

Fandom: Back to the Future Rating: T (flippant discussions of violence/ illnesses, language) Genre: Meta, Parody, Sickfic Summary: In which I, an unconventionally sunny “whump” author, recruit Marty to be my patient for Sicktember. He knows better than to underestimate me this time around, and he should be thanking me, really; this subgenre of whump comes with so many pillows!

mcfly july 2021 || day 27 Boombox

xxvii.

Rolling a cigarette side-to-side between his lips, Marty spun the metal housing of the facedown boombox perpendicular to himself and gave it a good shake. Confident all the components were snug, he sat the radio up, flipped the power on, and smiled as Freddie Mercury belted from the speakers.

The lab door opened. Marty snuffed out his cigarette on the underside of the workbench.

“Hello, Marty!”

“Hey, Doc.”

“What’s that you got there? A little repair?”

Marty turned off the boombox, laid it facedown again, and causally positioned the back panel over the pipe bomb before Doc saw it.

“Upgrade.”