Hello, I'm Kev. I'm 20-ish, and I use He/Him, They/Them, and It/Its pronouns. I am still figuring out my sexuality so for now I'm using the labels: Pan with a strong preference for men and aro. I am not actively looking for a partner or partners, I'm Poly, but if you wanna chat be my guest but I might not respond I suck at texting. I am not any of the people shown in this blog. if I ever show my face it means I've d13d and a shapeshifter has taken over my life, please eliminate it.
Warning This Blog Contains: 1nc3st, S3x, Men, Generally Suggestive Content, R4p3/N0n-C0n and general LGBTQA+ content.
I am a person in a lot of fandoms like Supernatural, Monster Hunter, Pokemon, and 9-1-1, LOTR, Percy Jackson, Danny Phantom, Teen Wolf, Marvel/MCU, DC Universe, COD, Transformers, TMA, ORV, Bloodborne, Dragon Age, HP, I also like anime particularity isekai and very character driven stories. If im using the term correctly, I am a Proshipper. I understand if you do not wanna associate with that kinda thing, use the block button and move on please. This mean I ship lots of ships even if they are considered morally, legally and/or an afront to God and Man. I do have some morals just most are very loose and up to interpretation.
My main ships are:
Wincest: Sam/Dean, Sam/John
Buddie: Buck/Eddie
Hannigram: Hannibal/Will
Bagginshield: Bilbo/Thorin
SpideyPool: Wade Wilson/Comic or Andrew Spider-Man. (Get that underaged Tom Holland Spider-Man away from my ship)
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i think when Frank says ‘you look exactly how I thought you would. nice kid.’ It’s because he’s been picturing his own son who would’ve been close to peter’s age by then, and Frank would’ve been so proud to have a son like him papa frank you are real to me
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Rabbot - "Im missing a leg." "Okay, do you still have a dick?"
First one of the day
Since Lizzie died Jack hasn't thought about getting out there. Sure he's had his moments where he misses being held or holding someone.
He'll wish to wake up with another person or cook breakfast for someone else but those thoughts eventually turn to how much he misses Lizzie.
His therapist said it's good to at least try though.
"If not to be with someone, then to test the waters."
Which is why he's at a bar with his friends listening to them talk about the merits of Shrek vs Megamind.
Jack stops listening after Parker says, "Shrek is a flawless deconstruction of a classic fairy tale with unmatched cultural impact."
And Shen fires back, "Megamind is cooler."
He doesn't want to be involved in whatever millennial argument that was turning into.
Instead he heads to the bar to swap out his beer for water. His gaze lingers on the game silently playing in the corner. Every now and then it sweeps across the bar noticing other people.
More than once his eye catches someone else's. A shy woman who blushes and looks away, a bold man looking him up and down, a woman who looks like she wants to devour him whole.
All of them make his stomach queasy.
He's about to call it a night, remind Shen and Parker he's here and offer them a ride. He takes one last gulp of his water ignoring the heat of a stranger sidling up next to him.
"Excuse me." The stranger touches his elbow.
Jack sighs, turning around to tell them he's not interested, that he plans on going home alone, when the prettiest set of brown eyes catch his. They belong to an equally pretty man, his crow's feet spanning out from the corner, bending down to shape his shy smile. His hair is short but messy like he's been running his fingers through it. He looks sheepish like he's been hyping himself up to talk to Jack all night.
A bubble forms in Jack's throat, travels to his chest and plants itself behind his heart. He wants to go home and crawl into his bed while watching videos on his phone but he stays. Instantly intrigued by this complete stranger with the kindest smile he's ever seen.
"Uh, yeah?" Very clever Jack, Jesus.
The man rubs the back of his neck, "I'm sorry to bother, I'm Robby and this is going to sound weird but I think we went to med school together."
Jack blinks.
Did he know Robby in med school?
He doesn't think he does — he can't really remember anyone that wasn't his roommate and Lizzie. He was focused on getting through the program so he could go get yelled at by a bunch of pricks from the US military. He's sure he made a few friends but all of them were pre-war so who knows.
"Did you go to Pitt Med?" Robby asks.
"I transferred halfway through the year there. Did we have any classes?" Jack thinks he would remember someone as pretty as Robby, except maybe not. He only transferred to UPMC because his mom had died and he didn't want to be in Maryland anymore.
"Yeah, a couple. You were friends with my roommate's cousin Elizabeth."
Jack squints.
Robby looks embarrassed now, cheeks cherry red, smile now tipping into awkward territory. His shoulders have drawn up to his ears and the inkling of self-assurance he held in his frame has disappeared.
"Shit, I'm sorry. I'll just-" He steps back, twisting sidewise and Jack sees the flash of a silver earring.
A distant memory came roaring forward.
A lanky man leaning into him at a school function. They'd provided alcohol and several of the students were imbibing far more than they should. Jack had been one of them, he'd been moping because Lizzie was dancing with someone else even after their date.
She'd left him at the table with a group of her friends. He'd chatted some, getting drunker and drunker. The guy next to him was basically holding him up, laughing at whatever ramblings he was going on about. Jack couldn't stop looking at his dangling earring, it was pointed and kept hitting the side of his neck anytime he laughed.
He'd had a delirious idea of kissing the stranger at the time, wondering if Lizzie would see and be jealous.
He doesn't remember his name being Robby though -
"Michael."
Robby laughs, bending his head to his chest as he covers his face. His fingers are long, thick, Jack remembers them brushing his cheek when he'd smeared ketchup on it.
"Wow, I haven't been called that in a while, but yeah, not shocked, you don't remember me you were pretty wasted."
And God Jack had been wasted but he does remember thinking how hot Michael had looked. How good he had smelled. He was the only person who made him stop thinking about Liz for the first time since he arrived there.
"Yeah, sorry, it's nice to see you though. You wanted to go into emergency medicine, right?"
Robby lifts on his toes, bouncing some, "Yup and you were going into the army."
"Yep." He shrugs, "Uh," he shoots a look at his friends to see them attempting to stack several shot glasses.
They'll be fine.
"Would you want a drink?"
Robby beams.
An hour later Jack is pressed into his door, Robby's mouth on his neck, hands sliding under his shirt. His head is spinning, body lit up like a Christmas tree as he tugs at Robby's belt.
He doesn't know who initiated the kiss or really anything past, "My apartment is close." Because Robby touches the small of Jack's back and heat blooms so hot and rapidly down his spine he loses all cognition.
Robby bites his collar, scraping teeth across sensitive skin and Jack melts. Dissolves into putty, yanking Robby's belt and working for his buttons. The taller man has gotten Jack's button up open, shoving it back and off his shoulders, fabric stuck around his elbows.
"You're still hot as fuck." Robby groans into his neck, muttering in another language while sucking a bruise beneath Jack's jaw.
He needs Robby's pants off now, needs to get his hand around the dick that was pressing into his ass as he struggled to unlock his door, needs to-
Jack freezes, his nerves running cold.
Robby notices immediately, pulling back with furrowed brows and concern etched around his eyes, "You okay?"
"I only have one leg."
Robby frowns.
"What?"
Anxiety ripples along Jack's body. "I was a field medic," he swallows, "and uh, there was an accident-"
Realization dawns on Robby's face, a silent 'ah' falling from his lips. Brown eyes trace Jack's, looking over him with careful consideration before his thought process seems to complete.
"Do you still have your dick?"
Jack flounders, "What-"
Robby leers, flickering his gaze to Jack's crotch and back up, "Do you still have a working penis."
"Dude, yes."
He's given a shrug followed by a cheek-splitting grin, "Then we're good. Can I go back to getting you naked now?"
Jack sucks in a breath then grabs Robby's collar and yanks, dragging him in for another filthy kiss, "Fuck yeah."
jack is the man with the "you never know when you might need it" drawer full of junk and scraps. That man throws away absolutely NOTHING. One day Robby decided that no, this shit needs to be thrown away, and literally the day after something from it actually would have come in handy and Jack has never felt so vindicated in his entire life.
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Robby really wasn't expecting to wake up one morning to find Jack Fucking Abbot doing nude yoga in his backyard.
He'd moved to the area a few short years ago after finally selling his Bubbe's house. It wasn't an easy decision, but the house was too big for just him, and with his tenure being renewed he figured spending money on a new place wasn't a bad idea.
It's not a large neighborhood. He'd lived in Squirrel Hill his whole life (except those years in New Orleans and MSF), so being in an area with more trees than people was nice.
His next door neighbor shares his yard, but there's enough space for it to feel like he has some real privacy.
It's a nice place.
He even considers inviting some of his colleagues over for a barbeque. Maybe get to know some of his residents.
Maybe even the newest attending, Jack Abbot — the guy is a bit of a mystery. A hot, dreamy mystery that Robby feels guilty thinking about when he remembers the wedding ring on his left hand.
He keeps the barbeque idea in his mind as he settles into his new home. Buys new furniture, paints the walls, spends his rare free time deciding between building a deck or keeping the low patio.
It's this decision that has him sitting in his back yard, a coffee in hand, phone held up to his face as he watches YouTube videos of backyard setups.
It's early, too early, but his internal alarm goes off every day at six am whether he wants it to or not. The sun is rising, breaking over the tree line. It's cool enough that he kept a blanket around his shoulders.
He's so focused on what the handyman in the video is doing with his weatherproofing that he doesn't notice his neighbor joining him outside.
The handyman is attractive, greying hair, stubbled jaw, his shirt damp with sweat and sticking to his well-muscled chest. He's good with his hands, voice steady as he explains what brands of primer he uses.
The video ends with the handyman winking at the camera, reminding people to like and subscribe.
Robby is about to click the next video, thumbnail of the same man holding up potted plants, when he sees movement in the corner of his eye.
He blinks up, squinting against the sun, trying to focus and—
"What the fuck." He gasps, then slaps a hand over his mouth.
Across the yard, arms stretching towards the sky, head tilted back with his eyes closed, is none other than Jack Abbot.
He's twisting his torso, spreading his arms out before pulling them back in. A tinny voice can be heard guiding him through yoga poses.
His curls, auburn and greying, catch the light, pale skin lit up showing off a spanning canvas of freckles.
Freckles that cover Every. Single. Inch.
And Robby knows this because Jack is bare fucking naked.
He knows he's staring, his tongue dry as his mouth hangs open, fingers numb where they grip his phone.
Jack bends forward, keeping his flesh and blood foot planted as he lifts his amputated leg in the air.
He twists and turns his torso before lowering himself onto his mat. Robby watches him, his blanket curling tighter over his shoulders. His body is on fire, shame like flames on the sides of his face. He should 100% go inside, stop staring at his coworker doing naked yoga.
Maybe stick his head in his microwave.
Instead he keeps watching. Jack has an unfair level of control over his body. He moves fluidly, holding himself in complex positions.
He incorporates a few exercise movements, his muscles flexing in a tantalizing manner.
He's soft through it all, hanging out in the open. Robby would probably be embarrassed to have his dick flopping around like that, but Jack seems to accept it with grace.
The video he's watching must come to an end, because suddenly he's grabbing a pair of crutches and standing up straight.
Robby has a single moment of panic when Jack turns in his direction before he tugs his blanket over his face and takes off inside.
Coffee cup and phone left on his cheap plastic recliner.
Did Jack see him?
Did he know Robby lived next door?
Should Robby say something?
Oy vey, how is he going to look him in the eye after this?
Luckily, Robby doesn't have to think about it for a few days. Their schedules never align, patients keeping them apart when they do overlap.
It's not until two weeks after the incident that he's confronted with it.
Robby is home, reading a book in his living room, his second beer sitting half drunk on his coffee table.
He's deep in his story when someone knocks on his door. He thinks about ignoring it, but maybe it's something important, or a delivery brought to the wrong house.
He flips his porch light on, peeking through his window, but all he can see is an elbow and the line of the person's back.
With a sigh he opens the door, "I'm sorry, you might— Abbot?"
Is he drunk?
Jack smiles at him, shifting awkwardly, "Uh, hey. Did you know we're neighbors?"
Robby just stares at him.
Jack licks his lips, "Right, well, I saw your Jeep the other day and thought it looked familiar. When I noticed it after work I figured I'd come say hi. Ask if you'd wanna watch the game with me?"
Robby blinks, "Game?"
Jack tilts his head, "Pens? Do you watch—"
"Oh," Robby rubs his neck, "right, uh, yeah, sure. Come in."
Jack does, shoulder brushing past him. Robby's stomach is at his feet.
"I have some beer, uh, I haven't gone grocery shopping but maybe we could order—" he stops.
Jack's standing behind his couch, his fingers rubbing the blanket thrown over the back.
It's the same blanket Robby hid behind the other day.
He might die. Right here. Stress-induced aneurism.
"—a pizza."
"Actually." Jack spins around to face him, "I'm not really here to watch the game."
His death certificate will say Cause of Death: Acute mortification that led to myocardial rupture.
"Uh—"
Jack clears his throat, "I'm not wrong — you saw me doing yoga the other day?"
Profound vasovagal syncope with secondary cerebral ischemia.
"Yeah."
Jack slowly nods, "I wanna apologize—"
Robby flounders, throwing his hands up, "No, don't — I didn't — I didn't really see anything, I swear."
The look Jack gives him tells him he doesn't believe that at all.
Robby groans, pinching his brow, "It's okay. Seriously." He tries to laugh but it comes out a little unstable, "Your wife is a lucky woman."
Jack frowns.
What the fuck is wrong with him? Robby squeezes his eyes shut, fighting the urge to bang his head against the wall. He just admitted he definitely saw more than he claimed, and he just complimented him.
They'll label his case a sudden onset of stupidity.
"I'm a widower."
Robby had the flu a few years back, he'd barely been able to get out of bed. He'd spent three whole days watching YouTube and sleeping. In that time he learned all about sinkholes.
Now would be the perfect time for one to open up and swallow him whole.
"I am so sorry. I didn't mean—"
Jack stops him, "It's okay. I'll take the compliment for her." His eyes shine, mouth quirking into a smirk.
just saw someone post “it’s common knowledge ur not supposed to spam reblog from someone ur not mutuals with” …..?????????? am i confused??? IS that common knowledge???? i try not to spam if i can help it but i actually personally love seeing spam notifs lmao??? unless i dont know what spam reblog means
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"i know this show was made for children but i enjoy it too." > awesome and cool. watch whatever you want forever.
"i know it LOOKS like it was made for children but its SECRETLY for us. calling it a kids show is an insult cause kids could never understand these THEMES and EMOTIONS. we're the TRUE fans." > i dont think i trust your opinions. you seem lame as fuck.
