✨ Witch but respects every single faith out there.
✨ ADHD as FUCK
✨ Fandom obsessed (current: The Pitt and ER 🩺 and all things Noah Wyle but B99, Scrubs, and Marvel are still hanging on. Fucking hyperfixations, bro)
✨ Writer, bad photo editor, ranter
✨ Spoonie: Fibromyalgia, PCOS, POTS, migraines
✨ Goth/Punk even as an adult. It's not a phase, mom! (Kidding, my mom is dead)
✨ Feminist, democratic socialist, can actually handle the nuance of this world
✨ New York, baby! (That means I like the word fuck)
✨ Zero tolerance for idiots.
✨ Millennial Core but only because I never fucking left it.
✨ Minors DNI - Sorry, loves. I like my job way too much.
🌹 Current ship(s): Rabbot and BentonCarter (but I have TIME for LukaCarter too. Carter is just a bratty bi bottom, you know...)
🌹 Past ships I still post about from time to time: Stony, JDox
🌹 Robby Robinavitch Defense Squad
🌹 Will also blog about: Horror movies, literature, Millennial shit, movies I like, photography, dumb shit, whatever I fancy at any given moment.
🌹 Firm believer in reblogging posts and commenting on fics because that's what keeps the damn fandom alive. GET IT TOGETHER.
Any issues with me, you can suck my metaphorical cock. ✌️
💥 If you send me anon hate, it goes there to die. I do not answer that trash because I literally do not give a fuck about your dumb ass opinion. It will be deleted.
noah wyle's body language in his characters is like so. Loose. he's just bobbling and bouncing around idk. like especially john carter. he's always fucking bouncing
There has been no horny Flynn Carsen artwork online (that I can see) so here's my introduction.
Mercs find it hard to kill Flynn even when they have him captured because he looks like SpongeBob and Indiana Jones had a baby. They're gonna do... Something else to him. :3c
You know, I'm not loving the way everyone (including Kevin Feige??) has decided the best defence against the 'Doom had no build up' argument is to say that 'Well, Thanos didn't really either'.
1. That just isn’t true. There were references to Thanos in the Avengers, Guardians of the Galaxy, Age of Ultron and Ragnorok, and the Infinity Stones were featured in CATFA, Avengers, Guardians of the Galaxy, Thor Dark World, Age of Ultron, Doctor Strange… and I’m probably even forgetting some. Even if some of those references were fleeting, and took up little screen time. Even if some of those references weren’t originally intended to feed into the over all plot, they were still threaded together into something that felt coherent, and that the audience could look back on when we got to Infinity War. I don’t need to know the writers intention to understand the impact on screen – which was that when we got to Infinity War, we all felt like we were watching the culmination of a decades worth of stories, and we recognised the stakes. Trying to reduce that down to a few split second references that weren’t coherent at the time is just inaccurate.
But more to the point-
2. Why would you try to promote your new movie by shitting on the reputation of your previous movies, which many people invested in, enjoyed, and helped make the biggest movie franchise of all time? Not only does that seem unnecessarily disrespectful to your own fans, but it just seems to make bad business sense.
If someone says, “Your previous projects seemed really coherent, and well thought out, but this one seems less so”, surely the idea is to make a case for why your current project is good, on it’s own merits? Not to respond with “Well, you may think that, but actually our previous projects were also shit”
Rabbot time travel au // E (eventually) // Use of the F-slur // Jack is 50 Robby is 22 // nerdy little bubbe’s boy robby my beloved
9.04am. Jack's face hits his pillow. His back aches. His leg aches. His temples behind his eyes ache. With no effort at all, he slips into unconsciousness.
4.27 pm. Jack blinks awake to his face pressed up against a matted foisty carpet. His back aches. His leg aches. His temples behind his eyes still ache.
…did he have an episode?
The carpet under his cheek isn't the lovely plush cream Liz chose, bit it's a blue that accosts his fuckin' eyeballs. A blue you couldn't have paid him to put anywhere in his house. He sniffs and it smells like… like stale beer and overdue laundry. He screws up his nose, takes in the shitty wooden furniture, medical textbooks, shit made bed and Barbara Eden pin up. He turns his face back into the floor with a sigh. A dream then.
Wake up Jack.
"Uh. What?"
"Hi." He mumbles into the carpet to the unfamiliar voice.
Usually Jack's dreams are abstract floating things, strings never tied together, or violent memories. It's been years since he dreamt like this.
"No. No what the fuck, who are you?"
WAKE UP JACK
He tilts his head and peers up at, "Robby?"
"Who are you?"
"Jack. I'm your-" He drags himself up to sit and waves his hand. "- friend, whatever. God you look young."
"I've never seen you before in my life." Robby hisses. "Why are you in my room? Where is your leg?"
Jack snorts.
"Sorry. Sorry. I mean. Do you have, um, how did you get here without crutches or- where is your-" Young Robby babbles. "Prosthetic. Prosthesis?"
"Dunno brother. I normally have my leg in my dreams."
"Are you on drugs? Do you need help?"
"Man, how old are you?" He squints, trying to remember if he's seen pictures of Robby from this exact age. "Pre-med?"
"MS1." Robby says, running his hand through his hair. It flops about weirdly and sticks up all spiky. "Did someone give you a key? Did- did Nige- oh fuck is this Patrick?" Fear flicks across Robby's face. "Can you just tell me what they said to you? Please?"
Its not really feeling like a dream anymore, or if it is then it's a pretty goddamn realistic one.
"Okay. Robby-"
"Thats not my name." Robby snaps. "My names not Robby."
"Michael Robinavitch." Jack sighs.
"How do I-"
"I know you, we're friends, I work with you, just a good thirty years from now." Jack looks at his open mouth dumbstruck expression and thinks, cute. "Help me up onto your bed."
Robby doesn't move. He bites his lip raw and stares at Jack.
"You're gonna leave me stranded on your floor? What would Esther think?"
"You know my grandmother?"
Jack closes his eyes. If Robby is MS1 that means Esther will be still around for two three years.
"I know you've lived with her since you were eight. I know you took her name when she officially adopted you. I know she makes matzo ball soup whenever you're sick even now. You've told me how you used to walk through Squirrel Hill to buy challah before Shabbat. I know, Michael, that she wanted you to move out this year right? Thats why you're here? She thinks you should have this experience because you stayed with her through college, and I know you told everyone it was the other way around and you couldn't wait to leave."
"The fuck?"
"Close the door Michael, and help me onto the bed."
He pitches his voice authoritative and that seems to do it. The kid gingerly closes the door behind him and takes a hesitant step towards him, looking at Jack's bare chest and blushing furiously. Shit, he's in his fucking boxers. Christ.
"Please don't like, kill me."
"If I kill you now, whose gonna put up with my shitty jokes in the future huh?"
"This is insane." Michael mutters, making a mess of it as he helps jack stand and gets a shoulder under his arm. They both nearly go over, but the manage the few steps to dump Jack onto the shitty mattress. "I've- uh- never told anyone about that before. That it was her idea."
"I know brother." Jack says gently. He knows too, that Robby regrets moving out when he could have had those two years with her.
This, of course, he doesn't say.
Robby flops onto the bed next to him and collapses down, sticking the heel of his palms into his eyes. "This is crazy weird. Okay, say if I do believe you, what is this? Time travel? Like back to the future?"
"Sure." Jack laughs, looking at the small patch of exposed skin where Robby's shirt has ridden up.
Seeing him like this is interesting. Robby has a few pictures up in his house- Esther's house, his house, whatever- from when he was younger. And a couple of months ago they'd done that little 'baby photos' thing in the staff kitchen, and Robby had brought in an especially twink-y one from the nineties that had made half the ER swoon. Fucker. Jack would have bullied him if he didn't know that Robby probably didn't have a bunch of baby photos. And the ones he has with Esther seem to be incredibly formal affairs, his bar mitzvah, graduation, the likes.
When he'd stood looking at the wall of fresh faced babies and Robby looking like a fucking nineties boy-band model, Ellis had whispered twink death, DILF birth and patted Jack on the shoulder.
This version of Robby is definitely in his twink era. Floppy hair and ruddy blushing cheeks, his lithe body and sparse hair from what Jack can see. He's a picture, no doubt about it.
"Why'd you call me Robby."
"S' how you introduce yourself." He yawns, then pitches his voice to his best Robby impression and says "Hello there, I'm Doctor Robinavitch but you can call me Doctor Robby."
"Weird." Robby half laughs, a near giggle, peering through his hands now. "So what's the future like? I'm a doctor?"
"You're a doctor now." Robby screws up his nose like Jack's being particularly annoying and the motion is so familiar that Jack startles from his own laugh. "Sorry, sorry. Yes, you're a doctor."
"Where?"
"Here still. PTMC."
"Emergency?"
"Yup, chief in fact."
"Sick."
Jack's eyes crinkle. "Sick." He mimics.
"What about you?"
"Night shift attending." Robby looks down to his leg. "Ah- Iraq, 2004." He shrugs. "They paid for med school and I paid with half my leg. It is what it is. Wish I'd time travelled with a little more than my boxers, as cool as this is."
He's still not convinced this isn't a dream or a psychotic break but what can you do. Weird shit happens. It's a weird world. He'd learnt enough overseas to have a liberal take on the unexplainable, and learnt too to not ever voice that opinion.
"Do you want a shirt?"
"Please."
"Should you be telling me all of this?" Robby asks, shifting through his draws. "I'm not sure if I have anything that'll fit."
"Anything's good." Jack mumbles. "And I don't know. Time travel didn't come with an instruction manual."
"But like, what if you say something that changes a decision I made that was really important to me becoming who I am and the Michael you know, and then you don't know that me- what happens to me then? Or you? Like the classic grandfather paradox you know, because in back to the future-"
"Robby you don't even like back to the future." Jack interrupts, grinning ear to ear at how into it he'd getting.
God, Robinavitch is a nerd.
Would they have gotten along? Where would Jack be right now? Probably sucking off a guy behind a barrack trying not to scrub his uniform in one moment and and then calling Ruiz a faggot and slapping his back in the next. Just one of the guys, right? Jack would have wanted him, but fuck he couldn't have liked him. He would have torn Robby appart, probably, in his effort not to like him.
"What? I do?"
"Noo." Jack drawls. "You hate it. You get all weird every time I suggest it and say time travel shit bores you."
Robby's nose scrunches. "Oh. Well maybe I watched it too much by then. I have seen it a bunch, we have it on VHS."
He gets thrown a Depeche Mode t-shirt and some gym shorts. The shorts are just about okay. Thank fuck for 90s fashion, but the shirt stretches over his arms. He catches Robby looking which is… interesting, but when he looks back he flushes and busies himself with closing all the draws up again.
"So what's the plan?"
"What do you mean?" Robby rocks on his heels. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? You're in my room. And you're-" He waves at Jack.
"What?"
"Like… old."
"What?"
Robby blusters, "I just mean that you're an adult, an actual adult, you're not old I didn't- I mean- you don't look old you're very-" He stops and bites his lip. Looking at Jack for a second and then turning to flop down dramatically on his desk chair. "This is horrible. Sorry."
"I meant what's the plan for you buddy." Jack laughs, rolling the term of endearment on his tongue and liking the way it sits, with this Robby. "Do you have classes or plans with friends?"
"It's a Sunday." Huh, so it was. Seems like that hasn't changed with his little jolt through time. "I was with bubbe- my grandmother- yesterday and I stayed over this, so I was just going to study."
"Right. Makes sense. What classes are you-"
Theres a rasp on the door, interrupting him. Robby's head snaps to the sound, then back at Jack and then to the door.
"Oi, Mike, we know you're in there, get your ass out here."
This time, when Robby looks over at him his eyes are wide and spooked, the colour slowly draining from his face.
~
3 part mini series because it won't leave my brainnnnn!
