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lukolathoughts · 2 days ago

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McGuffin or Chekhov's smokin' gun?

During my old university days, I studied Media as part of my Drama degree. I was interested in film at the time, until they made us all sit through 2001 Space Odyssey. Absolute torture. Anyway, we studied a whole lot of Hitchcock also. I learned a great deal about the auteur, the male gaze and the 'McGuffin'. Stick with me reader, I am going somewhere I promise. In fiction, a MacGuffin (sometimes McGuffin) is an object, device, or event that is necessary to the plot and the motivation of the characters, but insignificant, unimportant, or irrelevant in itself. (Wikipedia) For example, in Pyscho the lead female character Marion Crane turns up to Bates Motel with a suitcase full of stolen cash. It ends up being irrelevant because that is not the main plot. Marion (spoiler) is stabbed to death by Norman Bates and the suitcase of money ends up in the lake with her car. That is her story over. A modern day McGuffin in my mind would be Dennis Nedry stealing dino DNA in Jurassic Park using a can of aftershave cream. The plot point is irrelevant, even though it causes the fences to shut down and chaos to ensue, the can is lost as Dennis is eaten by a Dilophosaurus and that is the end of that. The main narrative is elsewhere.

In university, I was fascinated with Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill. As a Buffy fan, I was almost ecstatic with joy to see another badass female lead slice her way to revenge and justice wearing a yellow, leather jump suit. It is an incredibly gory film, but I see it as a masterpiece of cinema. This is where I was made aware of the term - Chekhov's gun. "is a narrative principle emphasizing that every element in a story be necessary, while irrelevant elements should be removed. For example, if a gun features in a story, there must be a reason for it, such as being fired at some later point." Usually in film, the director will make a point of showing the object/device and it will come up repeatedly or later. In Kill Bill, there is The Bride's sword which is made and then shown later with her lopping off a hundred or so heads. In Kill Bill part 2, in a flashback to years earlier, Bill tells the young Bride of the legendary martial arts master Pai Mei and his Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique, a death blow that Pai refuses to teach his students; properly used, the attack is reputed to leave an opponent able to take only five steps before dying. This is how (major spoiler) The Bride defeats Bill in the end. She was shown by Pai Mei. I could go on and on about how these devices are used in cinema and television, but you will be aware of them. In Bridgerton, we can see that Penelope's feather quills are Chevhov's gun, because they are representative of a secret that she is keeping that has indirectly and directly affected so many people. Lady Whistledown has massive plot implications.

So, ZG where are you going with this blog post? I have struggled with keeping my mouth shut these last few months and running things through in my mind. It is easier to just chat in my discord and much less hassle, but it also grinds my gears that us Lukola's feel the need to be underground. I want to be a voice of reason for the fandom and not be stifled. A few days ago, I was made aware of a picture. This picture had my eyes widening and my heart thudding, because it was confirmation to me that what I had suspected and read in my cards, was absolutely right. I have struggled in the past with even writing this down, because people get so mad. I am a mother of four. I have actually had six pregnancies. I have dealt with early miscarriage, gestational diabetes, premature labour the lot. I am an experienced mother now of many years and I recognise another mother when I see one. I do not take pregnancy and childbirth lightly. I know what I saw last year from Nicola and I stand by that. This has NOTHING to do with fat shaming or commenting on Nicola's body, which I NEVER have.

It is now up to the story narrative to play out and for us as an audience to find out whether the buggy/stroller in the picture that Nicola is pushing, is a McGuffin - irrelevant. I saw someone say it might be a doggy stroller. Sigh, sure Jan. Or she could be pushing her sister's baby around Dublin. It is possible, but why are all her friends there that particular weekend? Where is her sister? Why is Aimee there? Why was Louisa tagged in the photo? What was so special about that weekend? We have worked out from Louisa's clothes that the weekend was most likely the 5th April. Jake shared a photo with Louisa in a pub that Saturday and the clothes match. I will come back to Jake in a moment.

Or is the stroller Chekhov's gun? A massive plot point and integral to this whole damn narrative and why my friends, we have been dragged along on this bumpy ship navigating an endless storm, that has included missiles, hurricanes, a great white shark, shelves, anchovies, tiramisu etc. My question from a few blogs ago was, what are Nicola and Luke hiding in the attic? In my opinion, it is the stroller. As I said on X yesterday, if you see the picture but refuse to acknowledge at least the possibility of what that stroller means, then that's on you if a harsh truth is ever revealed.

The Jakeholes have been quiet about this. It almost makes me giggle. Nicola liked that post, so she is absolutely aware of it. It has been sitting on Instagram for two weeks literally like a smoking gun undetected until the Lukola FBI finally dug it up. Lets face facts here. Jakey boy was filming from April - June last year in Wales and Nottingham for What it feels like for a girl (I loved it by the way! It weas excellent). Nicola was on a massive six month press tour with her co-star Luke Newton. We all saw the way they looked at each other in Brazil. We are not blind or stupid. We don't have amnesia either. I can look at the live footage at a touch of a button. Us Lukola's do not have to manipulate footage of Jake from WIFLFAG, where he plays a male prostitute and pimp, with footage of Nicola from Big Mood, where she plays a woman with mental health problems, and mash it together to make it look romantic. Those edits are sickening. They are also pathetic because whereas we have actual footage from Bridgerton and in real life, the Jakolas have nothing. Even Tiff couldn't make the Cannes footage look romantic. He looked like Nicola's assistant and we caught Jake making horny eyes at a man in the pre-Bafta party. My point is, Jake was not around when Nicola likely became pregnant and I will quote someone in my discord, Jake hasn't seen a vagina since he came out of one.

I believe the person in Nicola's recent post is Luke. My very dear friend @pikanchidouble-blog has done excellent analysis on this over the weekend of the ear and thumb and I absolutely think it's Luke. If it was Jake, why not tag him? She's not been shy about tagging him before. The sweet treat is also Luke coded and the fact he loves Italian food. Jake is also at the moment busy shooting a film. Nicola has better things to do than sit alone in a hotel all day in Australia alone, waiting for him.

We are yet again back to waiting game. If that was Luke in the selfie, Nicola has made a massive step forward in showing an aspect of him. She has made strides in showing the stroller also. I love Nicola for this. There must be a reason that she has decided to show us this. It has to be part of the larger story.

So do we have a McGuffin on our hands, or Chekhov's gun? You decide. We wait.

PS. Love you all xx

#lukola #nicluke #luke newton #nicola coughlan

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theywereafairy · 2 days ago

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Paper Rings

⋆˚࿔ Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Wordcount: 5.6k

⋆˚࿔ Summary:

Javier brings you to a wedding in Laredo, his hometown, his past, his baggage. It’s the first time he’s brought anyone around like this, and the tension in the air is thick with small-town gossip and quiet judgment. But when someone makes a shitty comment about him, you don’t just defend him, you show them. What follows is slow, worshipful, passionate love making and the kind of soft aftercare only Javi could give.🤭

⋆˚࿔ Warnings:

Worship-level smut • established relationship • small town tension • public makeout scene • oral (f receiving) • PIV (unprotected) • grinding with clothes on • filthy talk • possessive Javi • “you’re mine” energy • praise kink • begging kink • Javier Peña being soft in love but still nasty in bed • post-orgasm aftercare • future marriage tease • overwhelming feelings and emotional vulnerability

⋆˚࿔ Author’s Note:

Hi besties 🥹 I wrote this one-shot after going to a wedding this weekend and couldn’t stop thinking about how Javier Peña would act if he brought someone back to Laredo. This man has me in a full chokehold and I need him to know what it feels like to be loved that deeply.

Hope you’re all doing okay and finding joy in little things. you deserve it. Sending hugs, hydration, and Javi smut to everyone who needs it. 💌 Would love to hear your thoughts, reblogs, or screams in the tags🫶🏼

You told Javi he didn’t have to take you.

You’d said it softly, the night he first brought it up, tracing the lines of his collarbone while his arm lay heavy around your waist. You could tell it was weighing on him, the idea of bringing you home. The hometown. The family. The questions. Not from you, never from you, but from everyone else.

Still, he asked. Told you he wanted to. Told you he wanted them to meet the woman he was with. His words, not yours. The woman I’m with. Like he still couldn’t quite bring himself to say girlfriend out loud, but every time his fingers curled around yours or his lips brushed the corner of your mouth in public, it meant the same thing.

So you said yes.

Now here you were, in a borrowed garden behind a family friend’s wedding venue, ankle-deep in gravel and stares. The sun had dipped low enough to cast everything in a gold-dusted haze, champagne flutes catching light like diamonds, laughter echoing off pergolas wrapped in string lights.

You stood there, half-finished drink in hand, and reminded yourself to breathe. The air was thick with the scent of roses and barbecue smoke, and still, still, you couldn’t stop noticing the eyes. The way they lingered too long. The brief glances exchanged between groups like they were passing a secret around.

A breeze ghosted over the lawn, catching the hem of your dress and brushing it softly against your shins. You smoothed it down with one hand, your fingers trembling just slightly. The music drifted up from the patio, slow and syrupy, a twangy country ballad you didn’t recognize.

Then he appeared at your side. Javi didn’t say anything at first, just rested his hand at the small of your back like he’d been waiting for the exact second you needed it. His fingers splayed warm and wide, grounding you instantly. The scent of his cologne hit you a moment later. Dark, smoky, familiar, and your body responded before your brain had time to catch up.

Javier Peña, in a fitted beige suit that should’ve looked too polished on him but didn’t. The shirt beneath was slightly unbuttoned, just enough to tease the hollow of his throat. His hair was combed back in a way that made you ache a little, like he’d actually tried. For you.

His eyes scanned your face like he could read the tension there, and maybe he could. Of course he could. He’d been watching you all night from across the lawn, you were sure of it. Watching the way the women tilted their heads when they looked at you. Watching the way the men did too.

You leaned into him without thinking. Just a little. And he pulled you closer without hesitation.

“Too much?” he asked, voice low, brushing the words against your temple.

You shook your head, swallowed hard. “Not with you.”

He smiled, just barely. It was a private thing, the kind of smile no one else got. The kind you’d seen in his kitchen at midnight or across his pillow in the soft haze of morning. And for a moment, the noise of the wedding dulled around you. Like none of them mattered. Like the two of you were a secret no one else deserved to understand.

But they were still looking.

You barely heard the man approach.

It wasn’t even someone you recognized, just another sharp-suited ghost from Javi’s past, someone who had probably once shared a beer with him at a high school football game, or nodded to him at a gas station before the war on drugs turned Javier Peña into something to talk about over breakfast tacos.

He said it with a laugh. That was the worst part. Like it was just some harmless joke tossed between old friends.

“Look at you,” the guy chuckled, sloshing beer over the rim of his glass. “Back in Laredo, showing off another knockout. Guess you always land on your feet, huh? One hot mess for another.”

It took a second for it to register. For the words to sink in. Your spine straightened first. Then came the cold flash of disbelief. Another?

You looked at Javi.

He wasn’t meeting your eyes. His gaze had dropped to the gravel like it was suddenly the most interesting thing at the wedding. Shoulders tense, jaw tight. His usual sharp tongue was nowhere to be found. No snide comeback. No smirk. No venom disguised as charm.

You’d never seen him like this. Never seen Javier Peña shrink. And it pissed you off.

This man, this man who held you like you were fragile and made love to you like you were made of fire. This man who touched you with reverence and kissed you like you were a prayer he didn’t think he deserved to say. This man who had lived, who had bled, who still carried ghosts he never spoke about, and some asshole thought he could reduce all of that to gossip and a cheap punchline?

Absolutely the fuck not. You turned, slow and deliberate, facing the man like you were squaring off in a ring.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice as smooth as the champagne in your glass. “Were you saying something?”

He blinked, faltered, maybe realizing just a little too late who he was dealing with.But you didn’t wait for an answer. You didn’t need one. Instead, you turned back to Javi, and without hesitation, cupped his face in both hands.

His eyes snapped up to yours, wide and confused, and you could see it, the hurt, the flicker of something raw that he hadn’t meant for you to see. He looked like he might say something, but you didn’t give him the chance.

You kissed him. Hard.

There was nothing delicate about it. No tentative brush of lips. No polite affection. This was a kiss made for headlines. A kiss designed to scorch.

You pressed your mouth to his like you were trying to fuse your body to his, like you were trying to prove something. That he was yours. That you were his. That every whisper and sideways glance and snide little insult meant nothing compared to the way he made you feel.

His hands found your waist in half a second, tightening as he groaned into your mouth, surprised but not resisting, not even close. His fingers dug in, dragging you closer, chest to chest. You deepened the kiss, parting your lips and letting your tongue glide against his with a slow, teasing stroke that made him shudder against you.

It was obvious how the tension melted from his shoulders and the kiss turned hungry. When his grip turned bruising, when his mouth slanted over yours like he needed it. Like he needed you. Right here, right now, under the fairy lights and the weight of small-town scrutiny.

You kissed him like a woman who knew exactly what she was doing, who wanted to be seen, who wanted them to watch. You licked into his mouth and moaned, just a little, just enough, and felt his breath hitch in response.

When you finally pulled back, his lips were swollen. His eyes were blown wide. His hair had come loose at the front from where your fingers had curled into it.

You turned, casually, to the man still standing there with his drink frozen halfway to his mouth. No one said anything. No one had to.

Javi’s hand slid to yours. This time, it was him who kissed you, softer now, but just as firm. Just as certain. And the silence around you was louder than any applause.

You didn’t leave his side after that. Not for the rest of the night.

Javi didn’t ask you to, didn’t need to. He stayed close like he was afraid if he let go, the crowd would close in again. And you weren’t about to let them. So you curled your fingers into his where everyone could see, laughed at all the right moments, and leaned into his side like you belonged there. Because you did.

And God, he felt it.

Every time you touched him, a hand on his chest, a brush of your lips near his ear, he melted just a little more. Loosened up. His shoulders relaxed, the corners of his mouth curled into that trademark half-smirk that made your knees weak. He was back to himself, but… softer.

Still, the comments didn’t stop completely.

“You two want a room?” someone muttered under their breath as you passed near the bar. Javi didn’t even flinch.

He just kept his arm around your waist and shot back, deadpan, “Nah. We’ll just use yours.”

You laughed, unabashed, and watched the man blink like he didn’t know what hit him. There was your Javi.

But even as the hours slipped past and he put on a good face, even as he leaned down to whisper teasing little things in your ear like bet you regret wearin’ that dress now, baby, or you keep lookin’ at me like that and I’m gonna get real fuckin’ disrespectful about it, you could still feel it. The way he held your hand tighter than usual. The way he tucked you closer every time someone walked by too slowly or looked too long. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, not like a man showing off a prize, but like someone trying to memorize a moment he thought he might not deserve.

He needed you tonight, more than he’d ever say out loud.And you were going to give him everything.

The hotel was nothing special, beige walls, scuffed floors, a bedspread with a pattern that hadn’t been in style since the nineties. But to Javi, it was sanctuary. It was privacy. It was you, alone with him and no one else’s eyes on the two of you.

You could’ve stayed at Chucho’s, he’d offered. But there was already a cousin bunking in the guest room, and Javi had leaned into your ear with a low murmur that made your thighs press together: “I need you all to myself this weekend, cariño. No interruptions.”

So when you reached the door to your room, keycard in hand, you barely had time to blink before he had you pressed up against it. His palm slapped flat against the wood beside your head, his body crowding yours, the warmth of him sinking through your dress like fire.

You gasped, but you were smiling, both of you a little tipsy, a little giddy from champagne and lust and the afterglow of shared defiance. Your back hit the door and his mouth hovered just inches from yours, his eyes dark and wild, locked onto you like you were the last thing left on Earth worth looking at.

“You tryin’ to kill me in that dress?” he asked, voice low, almost amused.

“I thought you liked it,” you teased, breath catching.

“Oh, I fuckin’ love it,” he said, his lips brushing your jaw, then trailing lower. “Love it even more thinkin’ about you out of it.”

And then he kissed you. Not on the lips, not yet. He started at your collarbone, his mouth warm and open, peppering reverent little kisses across your skin. He dragged them slowly, one after another, up your neck, pausing to suck softly just below your ear before biting down, gentle but sharp enough to make your breath hitch.

You giggled, flushed and breathless, and he smiled against your skin.

“I can’t believe you’re fuckin’ mine,” he whispered, his voice ragged with sincerity. “Mine, baby. You…Jesus…you stood up for me today like it was nothin’.”

“It wasn’t nothin’,” you said, and he kissed your ear in thanks.

He finally reached for the key in your hand, unlocked the door behind you without even looking, and then you stumbled backward together into the room, lips colliding like magnets. The door clicked shut behind you. And then it was just the two of you, tangled in the dark.

Javi’s hands were on your waist, your ribs, your face, everywhere. Like he didn’t know where to touch first. Like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You’re too good for me,” he muttered as he kissed you again, deeper this time. “Too fuckin’ good.”

“Shut up and show me how much you want me,” you breathed against his lips, and that was all it took. He backed you toward the bed, mouth never leaving yours, until the backs of your knees hit the edge. Then he dropped to his knees.

You blinked, dizzy. “Javi…”

He didn’t even let you finish.

“Lemme thank you properly, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with heat as his fingers tugged your dress up your thighs, higher, higher. “Lemme take care of my girl.”

He pushed the fabric up around your hips and buried his face between your thighs like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And then - God.

His mouth was all heat and devotion, licking long, slow stripes through your folds like he was tasting something sacred. His tongue circled your clit, soft at first, featherlight, teasing. Then firmer. More deliberate.

“Fuck…Javi…” you gasped, one hand tangling in his hair, the other clutching the bedspread.

He groaned against you, the sound sending vibrations through your core. Loving it. Getting drunk on you.

“You hear that, baby?” he rasped, breath hot against your soaked skin. “That’s how wet you are for me. Fuckin’ perfect.”

He wrapped his arms around your thighs, locking you in place, and didn’t stop. Didn’t pause. He licked and sucked like he had all the time in the world, like this, you, was the mission now. His tongue flicked faster, rhythm steady, sinful, devastating, and when he moaned again, your knees nearly buckled.

“You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he whispered, voice low and reverent. “Could spend the whole night down here, cariño. Just like this. My mouth on your pussy. You let me, baby?”

You could barely breathe, your body already arching into him, heat coiling tight in your belly.

“Javi…, I’m gonna—”

He didn’t stop. He tightened his grip, sucked your clit into his mouth, and that was it. You shattered, thighs trembling, hips stuttering forward as he groaned into your release like it was his own.

He licked you through it, slowly now, gently, like he was savoring the aftershocks. Like he was proud.

When he finally pulled back, his chin was glistening. His eyes were dark, burning with something more than just lust.

“Look at you,” he murmured, standing, kissing your stomach, your chest, your mouth. “My perfect girl. Took me so good.”

You whimpered, still shaking, already aching for more. And the night wasn’t even close to over.

He didn’t stop touching you.

Even as your legs trembled and your chest heaved from the orgasm he’d just coaxed out of you, Javi kept his hands on you like you might float away without them. One on your hip, the other sliding up your spine, gentle and grounding. His lips found the curve of your neck again, soft, reverent, like he was trying to press all his love into your skin.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “Took it so fuckin’ good, baby. You should’ve seen yourself.”

You whimpered, half-laughing, still trying to catch your breath. He was still fully dressed, his beige suit slightly wrinkled, his shirt damp with heat, and you were standing there, clinging to him, panties soaked, heart beating like a war drum.

He stepped back only enough to look at you, eyes flickering over your body like he wanted to memorize it again from scratch.

“Can I take this off you?” he asked softly, fingers already toying with the straps of your dress.

You nodded, and he smiled, a real one, wide and devastating, before slipping it down your shoulders with almost clinical precision. Slow, careful, like peeling open a gift he’d waited all night to touch. The fabric pooled at your feet in a whisper, leaving you in nothing but ruined underwear and trembling anticipation.

“Fuck me,” he breathed, running a hand down your side like he couldn’t help himself. “You’re perfect. You know that? Just fuckin’ perfect.”

You reached for him, fingers slipping under the buttons of his shirt, finally undoing them one by one, your hands greedy for skin. He let you undress him without a word, just watching your face, breathing heavily as your palms smoothed over the warm planes of his chest.

God, that chest.

Golden and dusted with bright hair, soft but strong, familiar from a thousand sleepy mornings and shirtless photos he swore he didn’t like you taking but never actually stopped you from snapping. You kissed just below his collarbone and felt the way his breath hitched, his cock pressing harder into the front of his slacks.

The bulge was impossible to ignore. Neatly contained but straining. A dark, wet patch had already formed at the tip, pressing through the fabric and smearing against your thigh as he rocked into you without meaning to.

You moaned, needy and involuntary.

He grunted, burying his face in your neck. “Look what you fuckin’ do to me,” he growled, rolling his hips against yours again. “This is what happens when you talk to me like that. When you stand up for me. Shit, baby, never knew I could get this fuckin’ hard just watchin’ you be mine.”

“Javi…”

He kissed you, hot and possessive, and kept grinding into you, rutting against your soaked underwear like it was the only thing holding him back. The friction was just right, dragging over your clit with maddening pressure. Every pass of his cock made your stomach flip, your breath catch.

“Feel that?” he rasped. “Feel what you do to me? I could get you off like this, fuck, just keep goin’, let you ride it, get you all messy before I even take it out.”

You whimpered, hips rolling up to meet his thrusts.

But then, finally, he stepped back, hands going to his belt, moving with a desperation that made your mouth go dry.

He stripped in one fluid motion. Pants, briefs, finally gone. And then there he was, thick and leaking and ready, eyes locked on yours like he was about to ruin you. He held out his hand without speaking. You knew the drill.

You leaned forward, lips parted, and spit into his palm. He groaned low in his throat, spreading it over his length with slow, deliberate strokes, eyes never leaving yours. Your pulse pounded in your throat.

“Can I go raw, baby?” he asked, voice like smoke. “Need to feel you. All of you. Don’t wanna miss a fuckin’ thing.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, please.”

He leaned in close again, nudging your nose with his, his cock brushing against your stomach, hot and heavy and so ready it made you dizzy.

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet when you beg, baby. Gonna make you beg again once I’m inside you. That okay?”

You nodded.

And then he reached down, lined himself up, and, slow, careful, possessive, started to slide in.

He pushed in slow. Painfully slow.

Like he wanted to savor every single inch, watch the way your mouth parted, the way your lashes fluttered, the way your fingers clutched his arms like they were the only things keeping you tethered to earth.

You gasped, back arching, body trembling, as he filled you inch by inch, dragging the head of his cock along your walls with torturous precision.

“Fucking hell, baby,” Javi groaned, jaw clenched, hips straining to stay steady. “You’re so fuckin’ tight for me. Like you were made for this. Made for me.”

You whimpered, burying your face in the crook of his neck, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

He sank deeper, slow, steady, intentional, until he was fully seated inside you, cock pulsing against your walls, and you swore the air had been knocked out of your lungs.

“I’ll never get used to this,” he whispered. “The way you feel. The way you melt around me like that. Jesus, mami, you’re perfect.”

He stayed there for a second, not moving, just feeling you. His forehead pressed to yours. His hand brushing hair back from your face with something that almost felt like reverence.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice barely a breath.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Move, Javi. Please.” And just like that, something in him snapped.

“Oh, I love when you beg,” he growled, hips rolling forward with a slow, deep thrust. “Say it again, baby. Say it nice for me.”

“Please,” you gasped, voice high and breaking. “Please, Javi, I need you. I need you so bad.”

“Yeah, you do,” he grunted, thrusting again, harder now, his hands gripping your hips like he wanted to mold them to his. “You need this cock. Need me to fuck you nice and slow, let you feel it for days.”

You cried out, the stretch, the drag, the way he filled you completely, it was too much and not enough. The pace was maddening: slow, deep, unrelenting. His thrusts weren’t hurried. They were measured. Devastating. Like he wanted to reach every part of you and leave his name there.

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders.

And he loved it.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned. “Hold on to me. Let me take care of you.”

He kissed your neck, your jaw, your lips. He couldn’t stop touching you, couldn’t stop talking.

“You feel what you do to me? How fuckin’ crazy I am for you?”

“God, look at you takin’ me so good, so fuckin’ pretty like this.”

“This pussy’s mine, right? Say it, baby. Say it’s mine.”

You said it. You’d say anything he wanted.

“Yours,” you gasped, voice wrecked. “Always yours, Javi.”

That did something to him. His hips stuttered, his breath caught in his throat, and he buried his face in your neck with a low, broken sound.

“I love you,” he said, like it hurt. “Fuck, I love you. So much.”

You froze, then melted instantly, all your walls crashing down at once. That was all it took to send you spiraling.

“Javi, oh my god, I’m gonna…”

“Do it,” he whispered, hand sliding between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, circling just right. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you fall apart.”

You shattered with a cry, clenching around him, body convulsing as pleasure washed over you in waves. He groaned, a long, desperate sound, and slammed into you once, twice more before spilling inside you with a curse, holding you so tight it bordered on worship.

For a moment, the room was just breath and sweat and the sound of your hearts trying to recover.

Then he kissed your shoulder.

“You think those bastards heard this and are jealous out of their minds?” he murmured, voice rough and teasing.

You laughed, shaky, blissed out, utterly ruined. “Shut up and hold me.”

You didn’t know how long it had been.

Minutes, maybe. Maybe more. The world felt far away now, dulled and quiet, like it had exhaled with you. The room was warm, lit only by the bedside lamp Javi had turned on earlier, casting soft gold across tangled limbs and wrinkled sheets.

You were still wrapped around him, skin to skin. Your leg draped over his hip, your cheek pressed to his chest, damp with sweat. His fingers traced soft circles along your spine, over and over, like he wasn’t quite ready to stop touching you.

Neither were you.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice gravelly from sex and sleep and everything in between. “You okay?”

“Mmm.” You nodded, breath fogging against his skin. “Better than okay.”

He smiled, you could feel it against your forehead. That lazy, post-orgasm kind of smile that only came out when he was completely at ease. When he let the walls down.

His hand slid down to your thigh, massaging gently, then back up to the curve of your hip. “I wasn’t too much?”

You lifted your head, brow furrowed. “Are you serious?”

He just shrugged, shy in that rare way you’d only seen a handful of times. Like he was still surprised someone could look at him the way you did. Like maybe it still didn’t quite compute.

You leaned in and kissed him. Soft, slow, nothing urgent, just lips on lips, a quiet thank you.

“You were perfect,” you whispered.

He looked at you like you hung the stars. Then he tilted his head back against the pillow and sighed, the kind of long, content exhale that said he could stay here forever.

“When we get married,” he said suddenly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, “I don’t want a wedding.”

You blinked, lips parting. “Oh?”

“No guests. No tux. No church. Just you and me. Naked. In bed.” He grinned. “Maybe with cake.”

You snorted. “Chocolate or vanilla?”

“Tres leches,” he said immediately, tapping your hip. “Keep it cultural.”

You laughed again, heart full and aching. But then something stuck in your mind, the way he’d said it.

When.

Not if.

You shifted, propping yourself up on your elbow so you could really look at him. “When?”

His eyes flicked to yours, a beat of silence passing. Then he nodded, totally serious.

“Yeah. When.”

Your throat tightened.

“Not if?” you asked quietly.

Javi reached up and brushed your hair back from your face, eyes warm and steady.

“Obviously when,” he said, like it was obvious. Like there was never a question.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just let your head drop back to his chest, your arm curling tighter around him. His hand found yours and laced your fingers together, thumb stroking the back of your knuckles.

And in that moment, wrapped in him, pressed against skin still warm from love, you knew. Knew he meant it. Knew you did, too.

Eventually, he spoke again, voice soft and close to sleep.

“Let’s stay like this forever.”

And you smiled, eyes closing.

“Okay,” you whispered. “But I still want cake.”

#javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #javi peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena smut #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal x you

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beiyuanism · 23 hours ago

Text

fully inspired by this post. i was initially going to put this in the tags in a reblog, but no one deserves to be hit with this wall of text in their notifications. anyway - never give annabelle a gun is amanda wilson's favorite western.

so. hear me out. mr wilson is a huge fan of westerns, and amanda pretty much grows up on winnetou movies and shit, because that's all that plays on their tv at all times. one time, he gets this entire box of westerns on dvd on clearance, and he and amanda make it A Thing Of Theirs that they watch one of these movies maybe every day over the summer holidays, or at least as often as they can. and one of those movies is never give annabelle a gun. i can picture this pretty much straightbaiting dvd cover with annabelle and henry front and center, and butch just somewhere in the background, or maybe even not there at all, so they don't really know what they're in for. and i'm ngl, i think mr wilson is a little worried as he realises what relationship the movie is actually setting up, because he's not exactly feeling ready for the "what's a lesbian, dad?" talk, but amanda doesn't ask, so he doesn't offer, and the movie ends, and he's glad to move on.

except, amanda becomes fully obsessed with it for a while. like, she watches it over and over on the family tv every time her dad isn't home, she tries to dress like annabelle and butch, but she doesn't exactly have cowgirl-esque clothes in her closet, so it doesn't really work, etc etc. she keeps talking to clarissa about the movie so much that clarissa finally agrees to watch it with her, but she decides that it's boring halfway through and they never finish it. and after that amanda maybe stops watching it so much, and then maybe the dvd gets misplaced somewhere, and she slowly forgets about it.

until years later, as a teenager already, she's going through some boxes in the attic, and one of those boxes is full of her dad's old westerns that he now just watches on the internet. she looks through the dvds, trying to remember some of the titles she hasn't seen her dad watch in a while to remind him about, when she comes across never give annabelle a gun. she gets hit with this wave of nostalgia, she knows she used to love this movie, but she doesn't really remember anything about the plot itself, so she takes it downstairs to her room and puts it on, curious.

she sobs for a good half an hour after finishing it. and maybe she doesn't even know why, because she hasn't realised she's a lesbian yet, much less that she's in love with clarissa, but the movie stirs something in her, and she feels almost physically sick for the next few days. after that, she watches it every time she needs a good cry, and then, when she accepts that she's a lesbian, she watches it for the good kind of tears and the happy lesbian couple. and THEN, when she realises she's in love with clarissa, it becomes bittersweet again. especially after clarissa and mark start dating slash it starts to seem they're serious about each other. she sees herself in the way butch is obliviously pining for annabelle and the way annabelle keeps saying stupid things whenever she tries to confess (i mean, amanda proposed a threesome instead of telling clarissa not to marry mark. she could just as well ask her to rob a bank together when she wants to say she loves her), and, hell, she sees mark in henry, even though sometimes, when she's feeling less mean, she has to admit mark is nowhere near henry's levels of creepiness and most of it comes from her just not liking him.

(and then maybeeee after mark and clarissa inevitably get divorced - because i don't believe they're lasting more than a year - clarissa is in such a weird and apathetic mood that she hasn't even cried for weeks, and she's having trouble processing everything, so amanda, without really thinking about it, suggests that they watch this one movie that always makes her cry when she needs it. she's shaking the whole time they're watching it, because the second butch appears on the screen, she remembers why exactly she cries over this particular movie, and something about it seems dangerous. like clarissa is going to realise amanda is in love with her just because her favorite movie is a lesbian western. meanwhile, clarissa is a little confused, because by the time they get to the helium bit, it mostly seems like a stupid comedy. but then butch gets kidnapped, and clarissa is suddenly wiping tears away. she doesn't see the lesbian couple setup at all btw, but when annabelle and her dad are having that conversation about butch, she's full on sobbing, and when annabutch finally kiss, she literally stops breathing for a moment. she doesn't yet know why. but she will soon.)

#i also would like to think that the movie is based on real events because i want annabutch to be real and happy in every universe #and this causes amanda to become obsessed with not only cowboys and wild west in general but also history. just for funsies #sfth #shoot from the hip #mine #clarissa's diy wedding #never give annabelle a gun

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selunefae · 20 hours ago

Note

i would really love to if you could write smut reiner as the reader's husband about him after holding back for a few months after his wife gives birth. with a lil bit lactation kink maybe?

Is it that sweet? I guess so (+18) - Reiner Braun

After months of holding back, your husband Reiner can't stay away from you any longer. You're restless and aching, and he plans to help you out.

masterlist | rules

rating: +18, MDNI

word count: 2,272

tags: reiner braun x reader, smut, fem!reader, afab!reader, domestic fluff, dad!reiner

cw: shameless smut, fingering (female receiving), nipple paly and sucking (female receiving), PinV sex, lactation kink, big boobs, size kink if you squint

notes: I had to do a little bit of investigation for this one – I'm a 20yo woman who has never been pregnant. I hope it's accurate enough. I'm aware that first-time sex after giving birth can be painful and uncomfortable, but this is fiction and we all want to feel good, so sorry if it is a little bit unrealistic. I've never read or written any lactation kink fic, but I understand the appeal and I think that maybe I did too much... VERY messy sex is described. I write it with post-canon in mind, but I tried to make it vague enough that the setting can be anything you like. Anyways, hope you enjoy it! (English is not my first language, not beta reader, not proofread)

You roll under the weight of the blankets, arms tightening around your chest as you wince into the pillow. Your breasts ache. The baby had a weird schedule today. She refused the afternoon feeding and fell asleep earlier than usual. Your body had been ready to feed her, but after seeing her sleepy face dozing off, you hadn’t had the heart to wake her up. You shift again, legs tangled in the sheets, trying to distract yourself from the discomfort. But no matter how much you turn, no position eases the dull throb of your full, swollen breasts.

“Mm… you okay?” a deep, groggy voice murmurs beside you.

It’s your husband, Reiner. You must have woken him up from your stupid struggle.

You sigh and nod your head before remembering it’s too dark for him to see. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you whisper. “Don’t worry, go back to sleep.”

He hums, but doesn’t do as you say. Instead, he pulls you closer, one arm sliding around your waist while the other strokes your belly. “Feels like something is wrong.”

You bite your lip.

“It’s nothing, just… I’m a little bit sore,” you admit, brushing a hand over your chest in a helpless gesture. Your shirt is clinging a little too tightly, and the ache manifests again. “She… didn’t eat before bed, and now… I’m kinda… full.”

Reiner goes quiet for a second, his chest still pressed to your back, but his hand doesn't move. He shifts closer, nose deepening between your shoulder blades. When he speaks again, there’s a different edge to his voice. “I can help you.”

Your eyes flick open to the dark ceiling. “Help?”

He nuzzles into the curve of your neck, lips brushing there in a soft kiss. “Yes, let me help you,” he explains as he moves his mouth to the back of your ear. “I haven’t touched you in months. I’ve been trying to be good. I know you needed time to rest. But – fuck – I miss you.”

You stiffen.

It’s not that you don’t want him. You miss his touch, too – but your body doesn’t feel like it used to. There are new lines and softness you’re still learning to live with. Your breasts are heavier, your hips fuller. Maybe he doesn’t like the way that you look anymore.

“I…”

Despite your hesitation, he doesn’t pull away. His hands travel up, cupping you over the thin cotton of your sleep shirt. “C’mon, love. I’ll make it feel good…”

“Reiner…” you start, your voice smaller than ever. “It’s just that…”

You struggle to get the words out. Even if you’ve already accepted the idea that he might not be as attracted to you as he once was, saying it aloud feels like pressing a newly made bruise.

“What if you don’t like me anymore?”

…

Silence.

His hand drops from your chest. A heartbeat later, he pushes himself up on one elbow, and then the mattress dips as he sits fully, knees bent and body half-turned towards you.

“What?” he says, voice tight.

You keep your gaze on the sheets. You’re unable to see his face, but you don’t need to. You already know what kind of expression he has on right now: stern and serious. You feel ridiculous. Fragile. Like if you say one more word, you’ll shatter.

“Hey–hey, look at me,” his hand finds your cheek, and you flinch at the contact. “Babe, no. Don’t say that ever again. You’re beautiful. Of course I still want you. How could I not- ?”

You suck in a breath that burns in your chest. You feel the tears pickling at your eyes. The turmoil of emotions that’s been lingering for weeks finally spills out of your throat:

“You don’t even know that!” You snap, louder than you mean to. “You’re not even seeing me right now!”

He doesn’t say anything, and for a moment, you’re scared you might have done something wrong, shouting at him like that. The tears start pooling in your eyes. With a quiet shift of fabric, Reiner leans across the bed until he can touch the nightstand. You hear him moving until a warm light spills into the room.

Your breath catches.

He’s looking at you.

Really looking at you

His eyes trail up and down, from the strands of your hair fanned out on the pillow to the tip of your toes under the blanket. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. The light reveals everything: the soft curve of your waist, the stretch marks along your hips and thighs, the milk-damp fabric clinging to your breasts…You cross your arms on instinct, shielding yourself from his intense gaze.

He smirks. Not in the sharp, cocky way he used to in his youth – this one is softer. A little arrogant still, but in the way that comes from knowing exactly what he wants.

“I see my very beautiful wife lying in my bed,” he says, eyes drifting down your body again. “And she just so happens to be in a very sexy state right now.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel nice,” you mumble, trying to hide your shaky voice.

He leans down. One of his large hands wraps gently around your wrists, pulling them away from your chest. The other wipes away a tear that’s slipped down your cheek. He pins your hands softly to the bed, one on each side of your head. His breath is warm against your skin as he dips his head, lips finding the space just behind your ear. “You’ve never been more beautiful,” he whispers. “All this time, and I still can’t believe how I got you to fall in love with me.”

You exhale at that, words caught somewhere between your ribs and throat. Reiner starts pressing kisses from your ear down to your neck, slow and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world. His hands move down, tracing the curves of your body through your shirt.

“I’ll make you feel good, okay?”

You nod lazily, and he doesn't waste another second.

His hands slip under your shirt, cupping your breasts fully. They’re heavy, full of milk and a little firm, but that doesn’t stop him from squeezing them with appreciation, his large hands almost big enough to cover them completely. You gasp. Your body is more sensitive than ever, and even the minimal pressure pulls sounds out of you. His fingers glide upward, feeling the few drops of warm liquid already dampening your areolas. He tweaks your nipples, and milk spurts out in response.

You feel something hard against your thigh.

“R-Reiner –”

“I’m sorry, love.” He grabs the hem of your shirt and tugs it off, eyes hungry as he finally sees everything he’s been aching for. “I’ve been wanting to do this for months.”

He takes one of your nipples into his mouth and starts sucking. His other hand continues giving attention to the other breast, kneading it. He groans when the warm milk touches his tongue and instinctively begins to grind his hips against your leg. You're a moaning mess beneath him, arousal burning hot between your thighs, spreading in slow waves from your core. Your hands find his hair, fingers tangling tightly, holding him there. This is the relief you needed.

“Mm…” he moans, sucking once more before pulling back for air.

His eyes are hazy, cheeks flushed, and there’s a drop of milk slipping from the corner of his mouth; one he quickly licks away with his tongue. Then your mouths crash together. You can taste the sweet, warm liquid on his tongue as he kisses with hunger, tongues fighting for dominance and fluids mixing together. With one swift motion, he pulls down his underwear, cock springing free as the tip hits your thigh from the sudden force. He’s desperate to be inside you, but no matter how many times you’ve done this, you still need a little more prep to take him. His hand moves between your legs, cupping your cunt before he trails your lips with his middle and trigger fingers. His thumb moves to start rubbing circles over your clit, and then he presses two fingers inside of you.

“AH!” You yelp. They slide in easily, but the sensation it’s still intense, your body still getting used to the new way things feel.

He smiles against your lips and starts to move them, slow at first and faster with each passing second. Your breasts press to his chest, nipples grazing skin, adding friction to the rising pleasure. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close, needing more of everything.

“Relax, baby…” he says between kisses, fingers working in and out, in and out, in a hypnotic pace. “I’ll make you come.”

His lips leave your and return to your chest, switching to your still full tit. His mouth latches on, sucking firmly, milking you as his fingers drive into you faster and deeper. “You taste so good…”

He starts sucking with more enthusiasm when he feels your walls clench, and with one flick of your clit, you come.

You let out a loud moan, back arching as your pussy spasms around him. A clear, wet gush coats his hand and wrist, dripping down your thighs. Your nails dig into his back. At the same time, milk spills freely from your nipples, streaking down your chest and spattering Reiner’s face. You look up at him and –

God, he looks wrecked.

His body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, your release glistening down his arms, and drops of white sizzling down his lips and chin. You’ve never imagined he could look this hot all soaked between your fluids.

The sigh somehow, even though you just came, makes you feel heated up again. You reach for him and start to lick and kiss him all over his face, the mix of his salty sweat and your sweet milk a delicious combination. Your hands find his heavy cock and you start stroking,

“Eager, are we?” he teases, voice hoarse and smiling against your temple.

You’re not in the mood to pout and play, so without a word, you guide his length to your entrance, still slick and sensitive. Then, he sinks into you in one smooth, desperate thrust.

Your eyes roll back at the sudden pressure.

You can feel everything – every thich inch, every throb of his cock. He’s filling you to the brim, the swollen head prodding your cervix. Your body trembles from the stretch, from how perfectly full you feel.

“Fuck, you’re so hot… so beautiful,” he murmurs, hands sliding all over your body. He caresses your waist, your hips, the back of your thighs. He touches you like he’s rediscovering you, like every inch of your body is something worth worship. You whine softly, hips twitching, impatient.

He’s not moving.

You meet his eyes, wide and pleading, the kind of look you know he can’t resist. “Please…”

“Please what?” he growls, lowering his hands to your ass and giving a firm squeeze. He wants to hear you say it.

“Please… fuck me.”

And that’s all he needs.

With a deep groan, he grabs your ass with both hands, lifting your hips slightly and angling them just right, and then starts moving.

The first few thrusts are slow and careful. He’s trying to be gentle, trying to give you time after all these months. But with the way your eyes roll back, your tongue slips past your lips, and the sounds that escape your throat, he can’t hold back for long. Before you know it, he’s fucking you deep and hard, each thrust powerful and hungry, dragging moans from both of you. The headboard bumps faintly with his rhythm, and the room soon fills with the sounds of skin meeting skin.

“God, baby – fuck – I love you,” he groans, burying his face in your neck. “I love every inch of you. I love your pretty face, the sound of your voice… and how this sweet cunt feels around me.”

You moan loudly at his words, arousal spiking even higher. Your fingers clutch the sheets, trying to ground yourself in something real, but it’s all too much. The sight of his body above you, the scent of his skin, the stretch of his cock inside you, it drowns every thought on your mind.

All your previous worries fade away.

“R-Reiner, I’m gonna –” you gasp, the pressure building again, much more intense this time.

He kisses you, muffling your cries, and one of his hands slips between your bodies. He starts rubbing your clit, syncing his rhythm to every thrust.

“That’s it, angel,” he pants, “come for me.”

!!!

Your orgasm crushes into you in violent waves. Your whole body shakes as your walls clamp down around him. You moan into his mouth, thighs trembling, nipples sensitive and tingling. Reiner groans and pulls out just in time, stroking himself with one hand while the other keeps playing with your clit. He finishes over your stomach, thick ropes of cum spilling across your skin.

You both stay like that for a moment. Sweaty, messy, and spent. You’ve never felt more release in months, and your body hums with contentment. Your eyes flutter closed on their own, and you have to fight to keep them open.

“I’ll clean you up,” you hear Reiner say. He strokes your cheek with one of his hands. “You rest.”

You barely notice the mattress shift as he slips out of bed. Your body sinks into a deep slumber, and you can finally rest.

Satisfied and with no aches.

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antithetical-bolter · 7 hours ago

Text

Hi everyone, here’s a WIP that fell out of my brain tonight.

4.5k words | Robby x Original Female Character

Seasoned ER nurse Iris had been treated to the best sex of her life almost exactly a month ago - from the attending she’s been low-key in love with for longer than she’d like to admit. Now, she’s sitting in her bathroom staring at three separate positive pregnancy tests. Unfortunately for her, Robby had dipped before she woke and has all but ghosted her since.

Title TBD? Pls suggest Taylor Swift themed titles if you have any.

This is the second fic I’ve ever posted anywhere and my first time posting to tumblr so pls be kind to me (but still tell me if you hate it), It’s also very much a first draft with minimal editing so keep that in mind

Well, shit.

That is most definitely two pink lines.

On three different tests. Iris Elizabeth McDowell, you fucking idiot.

Just my fucking luck, that getting tipsy and fucking the very hot and vey emotionally unavailable attending would result in a god damn pregnancy. I’d been blissfully ignorant the last 6 weeks, my periods have never been all that regular but as soon as the nausea and the sore boobs hit I knew it was time to face the music. And sure enough, the music was telling me that I was pregnant. With Michael Robinavitch’s baby.

Robby, who has barely made eye contact with me past what was required for patient care since it happened. Robby, who let it slip at the bar that he had been interested in me for months now. Robby, who I was unfortunately in love with. Had been for an embarrassingly long time now, so him up and leaving the morning after the best sex of my life triggered a full blown crisis. Almost a decade of pining, all for one (admittedly spectacular) night. He briefly had me considering switching jobs, but decided I wouldn’t let a man dictate my life. Even if it was that man.

Do I want to keep it? I think so. Should I want to keep it? Probably not.

It’s not like I’m some young new grad nurse who doesn’t have a career. I’ve been an ER nurse for 10 years now, working at the Pitt for all but the first two. I occasionally fill in for the charge nurses, I’m damn good at my job, and I have a great support system. But the thought of having to tell Robby that I’m carrying his child? Genuinely makes me want to puke. Again.

I have money, a 2 bedroom condo, a regular enough schedule that daycare wouldn’t be an issue. But do I really want to be a single mom? Put my body through the fucking wild ride that is pregnancy? Oh god. Pregnancy scrubs? The absolute worst. Not to mention actually giving birth.

Thankfully, the universe has seen fit to give me a single win in all this, and I have the next 4 days off to figure out how to be normal at work again. First order of business - call my OB. A brief phone call later, I have an appointment for 9:45. Just over two hours from now.

Fuck, I could really use my mom right now. Not like we were ever super close, with her living on the west coast and me getting the fuck out of my tiny ass hometown right after high school, but I’d like the option to call her and freak out. Both her and my dad were killed in a car accident just over three years ago, and somehow this scenario had never crossed my mind. Cue the tears - but they feel cathartic. A release I desperately need right now.

My therapist is going to lose her ever-loving mind. A quick look on her patient portal reveals that she has an opening this afternoon, so I guess that makes 2 wins from the universe for me today. I’ll take what I can get.

***

I am very picky about my medical providers. Working in the field myself means I have seen some shit doctors, and I just flat out refuse to put my care in the hands of someone I don’t trust. My OB is the best of the best, and she’s really earning her copay right now.

The transvaginal ultrasound was quick, confirming that I definitely have something cooking in there. The tech asked if I wanted to hear the heartbeat - but I said no. I’m right at the six week mark so a heartbeat can be heard at this point but I am not ready for that just yet. Not until I decide what I want to do. My OB, bless her, ran me through all of my options. She knows I know them, I’m an ER nurse after all, but it’s like all my schooling and experience fell out of my brain the second the stick(s) turned pink.

She encouraged me to take my time in making a decision. I have a few weeks to make a choice either way. We went through what it would look like to keep, terminate, and adopt. Having all the information laid out in front of me makes me feel both better and far worse.

She also tells me that no matter what the father wants, this is my choice. That I should lean on my people, and find someone I trust to tell. That if I do decide to terminate, I need to have someone with me after I take the medications to make sure everything progresses as it should.

I leave the appointment armed with 4 different pamphlets and 3 sonogram images that I have yet to look at.

Therapy is significantly harder. Erica, bless her, has been my therapist since I moved to Pittsburgh for college almost 15 years ago. She knows me far too well. Immediately clocks that it must be hard to be dealing with all of this without my mom’s support, which triggers a crying spell. Once I’ve recovered from that, we move on to how I’m going to tell Robby.

“I don’t know, Erica. He has barely looked at me since we slept together, I can count the non-patient related words he’s said to me since then on one hand and none of them were particularly nice.” That man needs therapy more than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s an incredible doctor and great to his friends, but ever since he fucked up his relationship with Collins so badly that she left the state he’s been especially moody.

“How do you think he’s going to react to this?”

“Not particularly well. He’ll freak out, not speak to me for a few days, and then inevitably come back around and say that he’ll help me with whatever I choose. I know that if I decide to keep it that he would help, but that it would be out of obligation and that is not what I want. I would never keep him away from his kid, but I can almost guarantee that I would be eternally fucked up over it.” Erica nods thoughtfully, taking a pause to formulate a reply that won’t send me over the edge.

“Maybe you should start by telling someone else, then. Maybe Samira, or Dana? Someone who will support you unconditionally without any emotional baggage taking up space in the back seat. They could help you decide what to say when you tell him, and support you if it goes as poorly as you think it will.” She gives me a very pointed look before continuing. “Also, and really think about this before brushing it off, maybe this conversation between you and Robby will help you both. A push that requires communication where there is a gap right now.”

“I - I, ugh. I just really, really don’t want to have to do this with him. He really hurt me when he just up and fucking ghosted me. Especially because he spent the whole night prior telling me that he’s been wanting to kiss me for months, and a whole bunch of other shit that he clearly didn’t mean.” He doesn’t seem like the type to spout bullshit to get a woman into bed with him, but I really cannot come up with another reason for him to be acting this way.

“It’s fair and reasonable for you to be scared. And if he screws this up, you have my blessing to tell him to fuck off. But no matter what you choose, you will be okay. It might suck for a while, but you will come out the other side.” The unspoken words are loud - that I will be okay but that it’s going to take a while for me to get there.

“I know you’re right but it’s hard to see right now.” Pretty much impossible, actually.

“That’s okay, I’m here to remind you. Your homework this week is to tell someone you trust.” Sad that I don’t consider the father someone I trust, but he definitely is not making that list right now.

“I’m going to call Dana literally as soon as we hang up - Samira’s working right now.” She nods in response, flashes me what I’m sure is supposed to be a reassuring smile but it just doesn’t land. We schedule an appointment for next week and then we hang up. I give myself 10 minutes to spiral before I pick up the phone and call Dana.

***

Dana picks up her phone on the third ring.

“Hey, kid! Where are ya?” I can hear the sounds of what is likely a bar or restaurant in the background and belatedly realize that there’s ER social plans today - most of day shift is gathered at the sports bar near the hospital to watch the first Penguins game of the regular season. Hockey is one of the few sports I will watch voluntarily, and I definitely told Dana I would try and make it out tonight.

“Shit, Dana. I totally spaced, had a bit of a personal crisis. Can I call you later? When you aren’t surrounded by our coworkers?” I hear a booming laugh in the background and immediately place it as Robby’s. Just my fucking luck. “Can you just, uh - text me when you leave the bar?”

“No, Iris, wait. Are you okay?” Her voice changes, drops lower and sounds muffled. Like she’s covering her mouth while she speaks in an effort to afford me some privacy. She knows something happened between Robby and I, and has had a front row seat to whatever the fuck is going on right now so she’s sensitive to the fact that I might not want him knowing about said personal crisis.

“I mean, okay is not really the word I would use but I’m safe and not currently in any physical danger.” Very much not okay, but I don’t want to make her change her plans for me. It’s so rare that we’re all able to see each other outside the Pitt and I know she values this time with her friends.

“Iris, honey. What’s wrong?” I don’t answer, but I do start to cry. My best efforts at keeping my sobs quiet are unsuccessful. “You know what, never mind, I’m just gonna come over. Hang tight, okay?” I hear the screech of a chair as she scoots back and presumably stands up. Her voice is quieter as she speaks next, having moved the phone so she can talk to whoever else is at the table. “Change of plans, guys. I have to go. Enjoy the game and I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The crying has not slowed in the thirty seconds it takes her to get outside.

“Dana, really, I appreciate it but you can stay and finish the game. I can wait.” I must not convince her, because she laughs at me. Fairly so, given that my words are very much broken up by sobs.

“Absolutely not. I’m on my way, I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

She arrives in eight.

I’m waiting by the door, and open it before she has a chance to knock. I’m still crying - no longer sobbing, but a pretty steady stream of tears track their way down my cheeks. I see the question forming on her lips but I beat her to it and hold out my three positive tests for her to see.

“Are we happy? Shopping? Making an appointment at the clinic?” Classic Dana - no big reaction, just thoughtful statements of action. Unfortunately I don’t know what I want.

“I don’t know yet. Took the tests early this morning and was able to get in last minute to see OB this morning to confirm it. I’m just about 6 weeks along and I have no fucking clue what I want to do.” She closes the door behind her and immediately pulls me into a tight hug. Rubs my back with one hand and runs the other through my hair, tells me that it’s okay to not know what I want and that she’s here for me no matter what. Does not ask me who the father is. Unfortunately that is the biggest piece to this puzzle and I know I need to tell her.

We move to my couch and she makes me drink some water before continuing to fill her in. I decide it’s best to just fucking do it - no preamble and no backstory.

“Robby’s the father.” That stops her in her tracks for a second. Her eyes go wide and I can tell she’s working extremely hard to keep her own emotions under wraps.

“Well, shit. So that ‘thing’ that happened between you guys in August was sex?” I nod. “And, let me hazard a guess here, he freaked the fuck out and now he’s unable to act normal around you.” I nod again.

“That about sums it up. He left before I woke up and any effort I made to talk to him about it ended with him getting snippy and walking away from me. My texts went unanswered so I just stopped trying.”

“What an asshole - I’m so sorry, Iris.” She leans over to pull me into another hug. “Are you going to tell him?”

“I mean I kinda have to, don’t I? Would be a real dick move of me to not tell him about this. Even if he doesn’t deserve me speaking to him ever again.”

“I think that depends on what you decide you want to do. If you want to keep it, then yeah you’re gonna have to tell him. But if you don’t, then we go to the clinic this week and he remains none the wiser. Either choice is okay, whatever you decide to do will be the right decision for you.” I take a deep breath, enjoying having her here to support me.

“See that’s the thing, my first instinct is that I want to keep it. I’ve always thought that I could go either way on having kids, but now that it’s staring me in the face I can’t imagine not going through with it.” Saying it out loud all but confirms my decision - this is happening. I’m going to have a baby. And I’m going to have to tell Robby.

“Then that’s what will happen. I’ve got your back through all of it, and if you want me to hide upstairs while you tell Robby I can do that. I’ll even chase him out if he acts a fool.” She’s serious, and I love her for that.

“Might not be a terrible idea. The last thing I want is for him to be involved purely out of obligation.” I debate stopping there, not divulging the depths of my (unadvised) feelings for him, but I’ve already gone this far so what’s the harm. “I’m like, stupidly in love with that man. Have been for a long time, and I was happy to have it kinda live in the background of my life up until recently. He approached me at that party we had for Jesse and we hit it off, and he was really sweet. Told me that he’s been wanting to kiss me for months and that he hasn’t been able to get me out of his head. We each had a few drinks, but I wasn’t drunk. A little tipsy for sure, but sober enough to consent and be smart about it. Then he was gone when I woke up and you’ve seen how he’s been since then.” She grimaces a little before responding.

“Yeah, he’s been in rare Robby form. Very broody. But, Iris, I really think he meant what he told you. Handled it terribly for sure, but he’s so thoroughly fucked up in the past that his ex literally left the state. He’s probably just trying to protect you in his own, very fucked up way.” I laugh and try to wipe away the tears staining my face, but they just keep coming.

“Well he’s doing a terrible job. Is it crazy of me to make him go to therapy before I let him really be involved? Is that, like, blackmailing?” The last thing I want out of all this is for my kid to be hurt in the same way - their dad hot and cold, unable to really make a commitment to be present in their life.

“Maybe a bit, but I fully support you in that. I actually think that’s plenty reasonable, and if he gives you pushback then he’ll hear about it from me.” So quick to jump in and support me, even when the problem is one of her best and longest friends. “If it makes you feel any better, the second I said your name at the bar earlier he looked like he was two seconds away from taking my phone and checking on you himself.” A mirthful laugh escapes me at that, it does not make me feel better.

“Then blackmail it is. Now, how the fuck am I supposed to have this conversation with him when I can’t even get him to say three consecutive words to me that aren’t directly work related?”

We spend the next hour brainstorming, and by the time she leaves I feel better. I have a loose plan, my tear ducts have long since run dry, and I no longer feel like I’m about to fuck my whole life up.

I make myself a list before I go to sleep - things I need to buy for first trimester health, food I should avoid, and symptoms I’ve been experiencing so I can be as informed as possible.

My list exhausts me (that, and the tiny human I’m currently cooking) and I fall into a blissful, dreamless sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

***

I spend the next three days making more lists. Baby names, furniture, birth plans. If there’s a relevant list to be made - it’s currently up on my fridge.

My first day back at work since The Event (TM) is fine, I guess. Dana greets me with a hug and a quiet check in, and while this isn’t that out of the ordinary it is unusual that she pulls me off the floor to do it. I feel Robby’s eyes track us as we walk back in from the ambulance bay, especially when we get closer and Dana does not smell like she’s just come back from a smoke break.

I treat Robby to his own taste of the silent treatment. No niceties, no attempts at small talk. Strictly patient care and work related conversations, and honestly conversations is a generous word. Terse exchanges is more accurate. I don’t let it get in the way of my job, and if I do say so myself I really knock it out of the park nursing wise.

Three shifts pass in this manner, three shifts where I can feel him fucking watching me like he knows something is up. Thirty-six hours of me sitting on the biggest fucking secret I’ve ever kept when all I really want to do is yell “Hey, fuckface! You ghosted me and it sucked, and I’m fucking angry about. By the way, I’m pregnant with your child. Get some god damn therapy if you’d like to be involved!” And then walk out, leaving him to stand with the aftermath of his actions.

But, unfortunately, I am professional adult so I don’t do that. I do heavily fantasize about it though.

Samira notices that something is up right away, but she is also on a long stretch of shifts so we agree to hang out when our work weeks are both done. We meet for breakfast at the closest Denny’s and she spits her coffee out when I tell her that not only did I sleep with Robby, but that there’s going to be literal life long consequences for it come early June.

“Oh my god. I would ask if you’re okay, but I think I can answer that myself. When are you going to tell him?” I shrug as I finish my bite of French toast.

“Great question. He’s been fucking frosty towards me lately and it doesn’t have me feeling very generous towards him. I know he deserves to know but god the thought of that conversation makes me want to punch a wall.” Another bite of toast. “I know that a few weeks after we slept together was the anniversary of Pitt Fest and Adamson’s death, but the way he’s been treating me does not make me want to tell him. It makes me want to be spiteful and keep it from him until the last possible second, so he can be as blindsided as I feel right now. Very immature of me, and I won’t do that but it’s nice to entertain it for a bit.”

“He’s clearly fumbling the bag pretty hard right now, but you and I both know he’s going to do the right thing.”

“I know, and that’s almost worse. If he’s going to be all emotionally constipated while attempting to be present I am going to lose my shit. Dana said she thinks I am well within my rights to threaten him with therapy, so I think that’s my game plan.”

“That’s - that’s actually a great idea. If anything will get that man into therapy it’s the threat of potentially fucking up his child’s life.” She chuckles a bit. “Can I tell Jack? I will obviously swear him to secrecy but it might be nice to have him in your corner.”

“Please do - but if he tells Robby before I do I will kill him.”

“And I will help you hide the body. Also, he’s picking me up from this meal so if you’d like to fill him in yourself you’re about to have your window.” Like she summoned him, Jack Abbot walks in the door. He immediately finds Samira and she waves him over.

I decide that I do not have another long, emotional story in me and just spit it out.

“Hi, Jack.” He looks at me a little weird, we’re friendly at work but I don’t think I’ve ever called him by his first name before. “Welcome to the party, you’re about to hear some very classified information so prepare yourself.” He stares at me, a little stunned, but I just keep on talking. “I’m pregnant and keeping it. Robby’s the father, but I haven’t told him yet.” His jaw drops open, and he has to open and close it a few times before actual words come out.

“Uhhh, wow. Fuck. Are you, uhm, are you going to tell him?”

“I mean, yeah. Not sure when or how, but yeah. What’s your opinion on me using this as an opportunity to threaten him into therapy?” This gets a loud, genuine laugh from him.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. You want my therapists number? I’ve given it to him multiple times but he’s clearly never used it.” Abbot doesn’t wait for me to answer, just pulls a card out of his wallet and hands it to me. “Are you doing okay? Managing symptoms alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks. Freaking the fuck out, but okay.” With that, I decide I’ve had enough social interaction for the day. “Now that all that’s out of the way, I’m going to head home. Samira, love you, thanks for the support, and Jack I’m a little sorry to drag you into all this but thankful that you’re here anyway.” I leave them at that, dropping enough cash to cover my meal and all but running to my car so I can have my next meltdown in peace.

***

I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I let another two full weeks pass before I even consider telling Robby. Erica, Dana, and Samira are all on my case a little bit but ultimately don’t push me too hard.

It takes an extra long session with Erica, complete with roll play and multiple outcomes of the conversation for me to feel even slightly ready to broach the subject with him. We decide that I’ll attempt to talk to him after our next shift together, a rare night where neither of us have to be in the next morning.

Dana knows, and as she leaves out the ambulance bay doors she shoots me a very encouraging thumbs up and a ‘call me!’ While I wait for him to leave. I don’t have to wait much longer. 10 minutes pass before I see him walk out, backpack slung over his shoulders and thick winter jacket thrown on like it’s armor. He doesn’t turn his head to look at me as he passes.

I parked at the very end of the lot today, hoping to use my car as an excuse to follow him for a bit. As we approach my green Honda CRV, I know it’s time to bite the bullet.

“Hey, uh, Robby? Can we talk for a sec?” He pauses, takes an AirPod out, and turns to face me. He looks like shit. Tired, like he hasn’t had a good sleep in weeks. I feel mean for thinking it, but I’m glad he’s getting just as much (little?) rest as I am.

“I’ve got somewhere to be, Iris. Now’s not a good time.” He maybe facing me, but he’s not really looking at me. Fucking infuriating.

“It won’t take long, please. It’s kinda important.” Fuck him for making me plead to have a conversation - this is starting to feel a little humiliating. I can feel the tears forming and threatening to spill out, but he isn’t looking at me so he doesn’t see them.

“Not now. There isn’t really anything for us to talk about. I have to go, I’ll see you later.” And with that, he’s got his AirPod back in and is walking away. Fucking dick. The hot sting of rejection sits heavy in my chest, and I have to take a few minutes before I feel steady enough to drive home.

I work myself up pretty well on the way home, moving from shame to anger. I kick my shoes off in the entry way and slam my bag down, feeling like I need to scream. I decide a run will suffice and quickly change into my running gear. As I slip on my shoes and grab my running belt I decide there’s something I need to do first, and pull my phone out to send the riskiest text I’ve ever sent.

Iris (7:58pm)

Hi, asshole. I have been working up the nerve to talk to you for weeks, but since I apparently don’t deserve even five minutes of your time I guess this is how you’re going to find out.

I attach a picture of the tests and hit send, and then immediately send a follow up.

Iris (7:59pm)

Before you have the fucking audacity to ask, yes it’s yours and I’ll be keeping it.

I immediately put my phone on do not disturb and start my watch so I can track my run. I hit the pavement with a vengeance. My feet feel heavy beneath me, and it takes me longer than usual to feel warmed up enough to really run. I play my angriest playlist, and run until I no longer feel like murdering the father of my unborn child.

I hit my favorite smoothie place on my way home, and as I walk and warm down I call Dana.

“So I told him.” She gasps. “But, uh, over text. I tried to talk to him as he left but he blew me off and I was just so fucking angry and maybe jumped the gun a little, but it’s done now.”

“How are you feeling about it, hon?”

“Terrified. Have not checked to see if he’s responded. A little elated? But like, in a manic way so maybe that’s not a good thing.” Dana laughs and reassures me.

“It’s alright, kid. That’s a big step you just took and you tried to do it in person, so fuck it. You want me to come over?” She asks, just as I turn the corner onto my street. My heart all but stops as I see an unfortunately familiar suburban parked in front of my house, and my breathing stops with it when I see that the man himself is sitting on my front steps.

“Ah fuck.”

“He’s at your house, isn’t he?” She’s far too smart for her own good, or maybe she just knows him too well.

“Yup.” God dammit, past Iris. Did you really have to send those texts?

“I can still come over if you want.” Seriously considering taking her up on that.

“No, I’ll handle him. But, maybe later? If and when I need to cry about this?”

“I’ll be waiting by the phone. You’ve got this, kid. Give him hell.”

#the Pitt #the pitt fanfiction #Robby x original female character #michael robby robinavitch #dr robby #dana evans #samira mohan #jack abbot #Robby x therapy #we stan therapy in this house #rough draft #wip

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fraddit · 1 day ago

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This is the fourth post in a series of four. It covers the spaces that we've never seen on the show and other miscellany.

The other posts in this series: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

My other floor plans: Diaz House | Buck's Loft | Madney House

They're also on my Ao3

The Bunk Room

I’ve had more than one person ask me where I think the bunk room is, and 84 years later, I’m finally answering. First off, since we’ve never seen it, I clearly don’t have an objective answer. So feel free to take everything I’m about to say with a grain of salt. You can imagine the bunk room and everything else I’m about to discuss however you want. But I’ll tell you what I imagine and why I picture it like that, and you can feel free to do with that as you wish.

The practical reality answer is that the bunk room doesn’t exist and there’s not really anywhere in the existing building that it could exist or that I think would make sense for it to exist. The only area large enough to hold such a space is the section we’ve never seen inside of, in the bottom left corner of all the floor plans. That doesn’t work for me because it’s so far from the kitchen, living, dining etc areas and because of all the doors that go into that space which indicates that area is carved up into several smaller spaces somehow and because of the giant glass wall which feels like a weird design choice for a place where people need to sleep at potentially all hours of the day.

So, I imagine something different. The magical firehouse in my mind occupies part of the building next door. I’ve highlighted the nebulous section I’m discussing below. There’s nothing exact about any of this, hence the gradient. Imagine it taking up as much space as you wish.

When I picture the bunk room, I picture it upstairs in this adjacent section, accessed through a doorway in the big blank wall over by the stairs and fire poles. I tried to create a visual example that was still vague and ended up with The Void. Sorry it’s horrifying. It made me laugh though, so it’s what you’re all getting.

To me, this location makes the most sense, since it’s close to the LDK, and I always thought it was weird how much egress is in that corner with both the wide stairs and the poles and it’s not really a highly occupied space. But if the bunk room is also right there, that would make sense for them to have so many ways down right there.

Additionally, fire code in the US requires two modes of egress for sleeping quarters. This is usually a door and a window. And, it makes sense for there to be windows on that exterior wall toward the bottom of the image above. And therefore, that makes sense to me as a location for sleeping quarters.

This solution also solves a few other issues for me, namely the roof stuff. The roofs of the adjacent buildings are flat. Although, this is all imaginary, so even if they weren’t flat, I could picture them that way. But this allows me to reconcile the not at all flat roof of the firehouse and all the hanging out on the flat roof scenes. In my mind, that all happens on the this other roof section. Boom. Solved.

And, since we’ve never seen the roof access from downstairs, because it doesn’t exist, I also picture the stairs up to the roof in this wonderful pretend place.

I also picture some more bathroom facilities here. If I’m picturing the imaginary bunk room over here, well, they deserve at least one imaginary bathroom upstairs too.

Downstairs, I picture part of the same section of building also being annexed into the firehouse off the locker room as the showers, accessed through a doorway in the little nook that’s over by the stairs and poles.

I picture it this way because I feel like there’s not really enough room for full shower/bathroom facilities in that top right section that connects to the locker room through the red door, since there’s three doors off there, that again, imply several smaller spaces. Where’s the water heater live? Where’s the bathroom? So for me, it’s just easier to picture another area where the showers live. Perhaps there even exists, in this imaginary shower room, private changing areas that make the glass walled locker room make at least a little more sense.

The Firehouse Location

This is a map of approximate locations of various places in the show.

Over on the left, there are three tiny, colored rectangles. Pink is Chimney and Maddie’s apartment neighborhood (not their new house). Purple is Eddie and Chris’s neighborhood. Red is Athena and Bobby’s neighborhood.

The large swaths of green are where most of the craftsman style homes are located, so Hen and Karen live somewhere in there. Alternatively, I've been told that Hen's LAFD separation paperwork in s6e06 puts their address in Altadena, near JPL. Which also makes sense.

The blue rectangle over on the right is where Buck’s apartment is. The orange marker in the blue rectangle is Michael’s apartment.

The yellow marker in Koreatown is Bobby’s church.

So, given all of that. If we’re assuming that Bobby went to that church because it was near his apartment. Which, I do, because I don’t think s1 Bobby was driving out of his way to go to the prettiest church he could find. And if we assume that Bobby rented an apartment reasonably close to the station he would soon be captain of. And if we assume that when Buck got his apartment in s2, he chose a place that was reasonably close to the station as well, and that everyone else also lives kind of close to the station, then the station is probably kind of in the middle of all those places.

So my guess is that the station is somewhere near that red house icon in the middle. I just put it at that major road and highway crossroad because why not?

And that's everything! Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me. I hope it's helpful or useful in some way. Happy weewooing!

The other posts in this series: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

My other floor plans: Diaz House | Buck's Loft | Madney House

They're also on my Ao3

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australet789 · 24 hours ago

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Im back to my house!

My bathroom, i missed it so much (never leave me again 😭)

Ok, so, i want to recapitulate everything i went through so others can understand what went with my surgery. A friendly reminder I'm from Peru, so maybe it's a LATAM thingy

The surgery i went through was partial hysterectomy. It wasn't full because my cervix was waaaay too close to my bladder and to prevent a prolapse.

Pre surgery was normal stuff so i dont need to describe it (fasting, take my clothes off, put on the gown)

Shit changes when you enter the operation room

They didn't put me to sleep. The anaesthesia was only for the lower part of my body. You know it's that because they will inject it in your vertebrae. Yeah, your back.

I had problematic veins because of the fasting and it's winter here. So they put the IV on my neck. Yeah, THAT Jugular vein. Metal af but you will hate it later

I didnt fall asleep so i listen to every single gossip the doctor interchanged. They gossip a lot btw.

I didnt feel what they were doing, only when they put the instruments on my belly. If something, i only felt they were shaking it lmao

Surgery over, post-operation. This part sucks.

So the whole "it's metal af to have the iv on your neck?" Now sucks. I needed to have my neck turned sideways and it hurt. No where the needle was but the effort the muscle was making

I didnt feel my legs until the very late night. I had an urinary catheter

The catheter it's NOT fun but you will miss it later

Unless you are very used to sleep on your back, you will suffer

Next day, they took the catheter off. I felt like i gave birth. I also had food.

The cartoons are right, hospital food sucks

This is were it gets terrible. Because the moment you have food, it starts the real pain: the flatulences

I kid you not, it hurt like hell. I had a nervous crisis because the flatulences inflated my guts and i couldn't pee on the bedpan.

The bedpan. I couldnt. I remember it and fuck, it was hard.

I felt so bad i wasnt able to go (even though the doctor said it's normal to not being able to go) i started shaking. Nurse thought i had a fever, but nope, it was my nervous system

Didnt help i hadnt take my depression pills neither, so take your meds.

The problem mostly was the neck iv so the nurse (bless her) decided to finally put it on my arm. I was then sent to the bathroom and i could finally go pee

I could hear angels singing on my hear

The flatulences still stayed. Even though i felt better because i could use the bathroom, the fucking gases moved a lot, i could feel them in my anus like it was a bomb.

After that i was okish. I recommend sleeping on your side and have a pillow or something to pur between your legs and help hold your belly. That does wonders

Today i was able to eat breakfast better than yesterday. But that's because i also started walking to make the gases go away.

I have yet to poo so, uhm, i have no records of that to inform.

So far that's it. I will edit when i have more information. And it's not to scare people, it's to tell you what to expect, because not everyone will tell you about the problems with peeing and pooing, you are supposed to just "deal with it" and you know what, im not like that.

#babbling australet #personal #surgery #tw medical talk #ask to tag #also i was on a clinic which is a 'private hospital'#you complain about healthcare? go to a latam country #or ar least try it here on Peru #long post

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lunanightshade8 · 2 days ago

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Can we stop saying Jay should have left everything in Marble Hornets and it would have fixed everything? I’ve thought about it a lot and heard so many people say he actively sabotaged everything by not letting it go and should have dropped it.

Um…

He tried.

TWICE.

Spoilers are ahead.

Now, I come from the camp of “Alex is the main antagonist and not the major bad guy under the Operator’s manipulation and is what fully broken in Operator sickness looks like” camp. I genuinely think a lot of blame isn’t possible to be shifted on one person, though I’ll get into that later.

Now, imagine if your old college friend had started making a film and you find those odd tapes. Wouldn’t you start digging? Yeah, he’s slowly becoming obsessed, but that’s more on the faceless monster following them constantly. Jay’s reaction is a genuinely sane one of “wait, there’s something here? I need to uncover what’s going on.”

As stated previously, he did attempt to quit. In Entry 23, he says straight up he’s not interested in finding answers anymore. After the house, we see him say that he’s done after his camera died, came face to face with the Operator, and a whole myriad of torment, missing chunks of memory, and generally beginning to question his sanity.

Doesn’t sound like direct confirmation he quit? Fine, there’s also the people who after the series ended didn’t know he had a twitter account. I couldn’t find the original tweet, but I found a reupload of it from 2021. The original was posted on February 3, 2010.

That statement is saying he deliberately tried quitting. While it partially does hurt my point due to stating he felt functionless and he posted two more times, the important thing to note is that 24 is not camera footage from a tape, but from him doing a disappearing act. I think he considered getting back in, and sort of did, though not in the same way.

Entry 25 came after ######, which would concern a heck of a lot of people. Remember, Marble Hornets used to be a real time thing and is Unfiction. The audience could interact and see what was going on. If something like that was posted to your socials, you’d want to hop back in to explain on YouTube “I’m not dead, I’m okay, I’m checking into different hotels, but my apartment did burn down.” to the people who follow you, because Jay did have a following.

And finally, the second attempt was after realizing “my life is in danger.” He chose to try to quit after this, and he stated as such in Entry 26.

He was actually done, again. He would have prioritised his mental health and safety over answers… had it not been for the text.

Seriously, what are you supposed to do in this situation? Let it go? Then the package arrives, shows Alex in genuine danger, and mentions he may be a while, if ever.

Heck, he didn’t post until November of 2010 because of his memory being wiped! I genuinely believe if his memory wasn’t compromised, he’d have stayed undercover.

You can get on Jay for so many things like his lack of empathy and tendencies to stalk people or blackmail to get what he wants. He posted a woman having a mental breakdown, and while it’s understandable why he filmed, he still posted people being held at gunpoint. I will criticise him for that all day long. Those parts of his personality are not great, but criticise THAT. Marble Hornets is a Shakespearian tragedy, and I mean that.

No one person has the full blame. Tim couldn’t help that he received The Operator first or that it came to the set. If he hadn’t brought it, then Brian would have been the source and it’d be impossible to track.

Alex is the victim who didn’t get help, and he’s the one who murdered his fiancé and everyone involved, but Jay also fell prey to Operator Sickness, and he tried to kill Tim, yet I don’t see many people talk about it.

Jay is the person who started it, but he tried to end it TWICE. I can’t overstate that he did try leaving and ALEX was the one who dragged him back in.

No one is solely responsible for Marble Hornets, and we should stop trying to pretend that it’s on one person. If you want to blame someone, blame the faceless cryptid who tormented a child and drove everyone who we want to shirk the blame onto into insanity.

#marble hornets #jay merrick #alex kralie #Marble Hornets opinion #marble hornets operator

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aboutzatanna · 2 days ago

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Who Is Allura?

Allura; the closest Zatanna has had to an archenemy. she has been mentioned on this blog a few times (like here and here). She has appeared in Justice League of America #51, Adventure Comics #413-415 (later reprinted in DC Super Stars of Magic) and the 1987 Zatanna Special, in that order.

But one thing that has remained elusive is why Allura hates the Zatara's and exactly what she is. She is referred to as a 'Dark Elemental' and generally depicted as a ghost like spirit that can do magic but needed to possess others to exist on the Earthly plane. In her first appearance she is trapped inside the 'Sword of Paracelsus' (that's a huge clue btw) and promises to help Zatanna find her father but is revealed to be the one who cursed him and she was actually leading Zatanna to her and her father's deaths.

I have been meaning to dive deeper into Allura's character and I was inspired by @ringaroundaroses's post on Zatanna's enemies to finally do some research on Allura.

Luckily I didn't have to look too far. Yes, guys, I have figured out Allura!

So, in occult and supernatural works, particularly A Book on Nymphs, Sylphs, Pygmies, and Salamanders, and on the Other Spirits, 4 types of Elementals are specified; Gnome (being of earth), Undine (being of water), Sylph (being of air) and Salamander (being of fire). The book was written by Paracelsus. When we first meet Allura, she is trapped in the Sword of Paracelsus.

Source: Justice League of America #51

(Fun fact; Paracelsus real name was Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim and he is the real life inspiration for the character of Hoenheim in 'Full Metal Alchemist'.

Paracelsus was also a doctor and is responsible for pushing ideas like 'the dose makes the poison' and the ethics of a doctor. He still had some outdated ideas but he was still an important contributor to the field of medicine.)

Anyway, Paracelsus describe Sylphs as "invisible beings of air" and "are rougher, coarser, taller, and stronger than humans. The elementals are said to be able to move through their own elements as human beings move through air. Because of this, sylphs are the closest to humans in his conception because they move through air like we do, while in fire they burn, in water they drown, and in earth, they get stuck." You can read more here.

In literature, Sylphs appear in poems like 'Rape of the Lock' (despite the name the story is in fact not about rape), which was written to be a satire of alchemical writing, the Sylphs are said to be the spirits of women "full of spleen" (meaning full of suppressed anger) and vanity whose spirits are too heavy to ascend to heaven. The heroine of the poem, Belinda, is attended to by an army of Sylphs who "foster her vanity and guard her beauty".

The chief Sylph of the story is named 'Ariel', which is also the same name of the "airy spirit" which appears in Shakespeare's play, 'The Tempest' whose main characters are a magician named Perespero living on a secluded island with his daughter, Miranda along with Ariel and their servant, Caliban . Ariel was previously imprisoned in a tree by a witch and Perespero freed him from their imprisonment and later in the story, Perespero agrees to free him completely if he fulfills some tasks for him. Ariel also used to be played by men by later women began to portray the character on stage.

Finally, there is also a Sylph in the titular 1778 novel 'The Sylph' by Georgiana Cavendish in which a Sylph acts as an unseen guardian to a woman trapped in a loveless marriage (actually nothing supernatural, just an anonymous letter writer whose true identity is a mystery until the end of the novel but it is yet another example of Sylph's acting like guardian spirits).

Anyway, back to Allura:

Source: Justice League of America #51

She fits the Sylph (Air Elemental) type. She pretends to be a guardian spirit to Zatanna but in an ironic twist was actually trying to kill her and her father. She is also "stuck" inside a sword (which could considered an earth element) when we first meet her. She is also exorcised from Zatanna's body via fire. As mentioned earlier, Sylphs are weak to fire plus the bell, book and candle is a popular excommunication method.

Source: Justice League of America #51

She is never called a sorcerer within the story. Always referred to as an Elemental and treated like a supernatural being (because she is!).

Source: Justice League of America #51

For once, I'm disappointed that an older comic did not go into a long expository detail about something and acted like we should know what an Elemental is off the bat. Or maybe it's something the readership of the time would have recognized but we don't.

The main difference between Sylphs in myth and literature and Allura is that the latter needs to possess to exist on earth, has both a good half and an evil with Allura's good half unable to exist outside of the Land of the Kharma.

Source: Justice League of America #51

So now that we know she is an air Elemental, this also opens up possibility of introducing characters based on Undines (water elemental), Gnomes (earth elemental) and Salamander (fire elemental).

Still, that leaves one unanswered question; why does Allura hate the Zatara's ?

Well, there is no canon explanation so we have to resort to building our own headcanons instead.

Some of mine are:

(1) Allura used to be someone's guardian. Zatara promised to protect that person but failed thus Allura is seeking vengeance.

(2) Allura used to a real person, good at one point, but was resentful of Zatara. After their death, their spirits split into two; their good half resided in the land of Kharma whilst their evil half continued to curse Zatara.

Anyway, what are your thoughts on Allura? What do you think her backstory should be? What do you think of her being a Sylph? And how do you think that that should be developed in future story arcs?

#zatanna #zatanna zatara #john zatara #john giovanni zatara #allura #villains #justice league of america #fullmetal alchemist #van hoenheim

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scootersscooter · 8 days ago

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thinking a lot about gender in relation to marcus davenport...

#something about how her sense of her gender is so intrinsically tied to trying to be perfect son for her father #something it could never achieve because while they appeared to have a traditional family dynamic compared to donald and the rats #douglas never really saw her as his son #he saw it as something to use to gain what he had lost: his 'real' children #something about her having to unlearn what she was made for in order to discover what it truly is #including her ties feelings and aspirations toward being the perfect son #i need to make a full post about this later...#marcus davenport #lab rats

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missescalientee · 5 months ago

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Finally revealing one of my other blorbos, Niccolo Sonata! A mixed genre troll who poses as a Pop Idol up until world tour

He's a complicated bag, he's half rock half classical, his mother kind of low-key hates him, and his dad does care but is kind of paralyzed with various anxieties that comes with the fact that Niccolo is half classical (worried about his constitution and his wings) and things related to his mother (she doesn't want Niccolo to become like his dad and puts a lot of restrictions on him)

Both of his parents don't really know what to do with him, and he doesn't know what to do with himself.

He has a lot of internalized hatred towards himself and the two sides of his musical families, plus he is a secret third genre (symphonic rock) which he doesn't fully understand. He got picked on a bit in Volcano Rock City, they're a lot rougher than he's used to so he just kind of took it, which is why he looks so roughed up in one pic and the other he says they hate him in VRC

Again he's really complicated even tho he doesn't look it, if you have questions about him lmk

#dreamworks trolls #trolls #trolls 3 #trolls oc #trolls world tour #twt #trolls oc Niccolo #his father calls him Nicky #his dad did try to be a good dad and just ended up dropping the ball because he was worried about what niccolos mom would do #shes not a nice person #idk if you can tell #she does care for her son she just cant get over the other half of him #if that makes sense #she believes that even if he isnt full classical she can just make him #which causes him to run away from home at 18 #he lived between houses for about 10 yr #and then the rest with his mother due to an incident #which will appear in a different comic #ill share more about his parents later #niccolo is kind of stuck up #and rude to people when hes off stage he doesnt mean to be #it just happens which he does eventually grow out of #his story is one of learning to be better not just for himself but for the people hes around #i think he probably doesnt have many friends until after his growth #tho he does have some its like 3 people who see his potential for growth and or tolerate his bad behavior #i have a few comics of him BUT i need to fix them before i post #cuz i got his wing shape wrong in ALL OF THEM #legit got them wrong in the two comics i have here and they were made 2 sec after i made his design #i had to fix them to post them #idk how i did that but i did smh smh

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xxplastic-cubexx · 7 months ago

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Charles representation enjoyed here again! I’ve not read much of the comics bc I can’t afford them but I just rewatched FC and I was wondering if Charles being paralyzed is the same in the comics (Erik doing it)? Do they often include that part of his story?

hello my inquisitive friend :] !!!! im more than happy to give some more info bout the origins charles' disability in the comics- to the best of my abilities that is !

while they don't include an origin for his paralysis in EVERY story/run, as far as i know there are three major ways charles loses his mobility (though like yourself, i havent read many of the comics so far, so i could be missing a few. this is the part where i invite readers to submit additional info if im leaving any out)

the very first manner of charles losing his legs was relayed to us in the original X-Men run of the 60's in issue #20

(X-Men #20: "I, Lucifer!")

before magneto was regarded as charles' main adversary there was the extraterrestrial lucifer (who sported the same color scheme, ironically. it wasnt as though lucifer came before magneto so it was definitely A Choice..) who charles would have a semi-reoccurring feud with for a bit early on in the series. during their first encounter, charles would corner lucifer in his lair only to have a stone slab dropped on him, disabling his legs indefinitely

the second manner in which charles loses his mobility- and the time where erik is the most involved and is most deliberate- comes from. Our Favorite Universe in 2001: The Ultimate Universe

(Ultimate X-Men #1: "The Tomorrow People")

as is typically how charles x magneto team-up arcs go, while charles and erik worked together for some time it wasn't very long before erik wanted to pursue more Dramatic Measures for mutantkind. and As This Story Goes, amidst trying to escape the savage lands sanctuary he and erik built, erik drove a metal spike through charles' spine, leading to his disability in this verse

lastly, we have the House of M- or more specifically its prequel miniseries, Civil War: House of M- verse in 2008:

(Civil War: House of M #2: "Revolution")

(Civil War: House of M #3: "Reign")

similar to Ultimate and the movies, this is another timeline where charles and erik team up. this time however, charles is more willing to follow erik's ideas after seeing the horrors of genosha upon reading the mind of a mutant who escaped the island, and the two seek to liberate the other mutants left behind. unfortunately, during their mission, a sentinel collapses the building charles and co. are infiltrating, leading to the loss of his legs

hope you had fun reading- i had fun typing up everything and looking back at these issues :] !

#long post #x-men #x-men comics #cherik #snap chats #also! its very easy to find these issues online for free. thats what ive been doing LMAOO #i still have to read ultimate and house of m in full so i have very little idea of the plots beyond these issues #again i only really buy issues if i really like the story or if i happen upon it in the wild and it piques my interest enough for me to tak #buuuut yeah as far as i know here's how charles loses his legs. in various timelines #bruh what makes me pissed about ultimate is that art of charles getting spiked is actually so fuckin well drawn #horrifying but its drawn so well it makes me mad #as far as i know they dont address the origin of his disability in any of the cartoons #not that i can remember of 92 and i havent finished evolution #we'll just have to see 😩#its kind of insane with the classic timeline cause not even like three/four issues later #charles builds some kind of device that lets him walk using his Psionic Energy or something #granted its not permanent and does need to recharge and he doesnt use it often but still. wild #anyway ! hope this helps :]

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crystallizsch · 8 months ago

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thinking about the twst cast as tinkerbell fairies and i was debating kalim possibly being a light fairy because *gestures vaguely* but also water fairy because his oasis maker UM

#[—✦ rambling #twst #also i need an excuse to draw jamil as a fairy #i'm thinking of fast flying fairy for him but hmmmm #i’ll make a full-on post about this later about the whole twst cast bc i think it’ll be fun #IT’LL JUST BE A TEXT POST #i’m not drawing all of them 😭#also feel free to send any ideas if you have any??? i’m down for suggestions 🫶#especially for the twst characters i dont know very well hfjdjd

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vaguely-concerned · 6 months ago

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I feel that during the first coffee date walk through the market, rye has a fraction of a millisecond's kneejerk trauma freakout of '...wait. wait. am I really catching feelings for a rich boy again. with how that went down last time. am I truly that stupid' (once derogatorily referred to quite openly at a party as 'young master anaxas' pet mortalitasi' to which the young master anaxas only grinned and shrugged and STILL you don't break up with his smug controlling ass for good for six more months because you have a desperate bottomless yearning pit where your self respect should go, twice shy lol). and then he actually looks at lucanis standing next to him getting harding spearmint to help with bad dreams and generally being so quietly thoughtful and sweet through the prosaic yet necessary medium of grocery shopping it makes me feel a little unwell to truly contemplate. and rye is like '*the softest fondest eyes anyone has ever turned on anything* ...you know what. I suspect we don't have to worry about that repeating, I think we're probably safe. I am comfortable being this level of stupid. (slowly dawning marital intent even at this stage)'.

(part of the reason rye buys NONE of illario's bullshit at all right from the beginning is that he's basically vaccinated against this exact type of dude after that relationship lol. charming suave guy who in the beginning pays you a lot of lavish attention and takes pains to make you feel special every time you're in a room with him -- but shallowly and mostly, it slowly dawns on you, when there's something he wants from you (and he's often doing it at the expense of someone else, raising you up to put someone else down and you won't believe this... it can turn into a seesaw at a whim. yay). and beneath that there's just a seething pit of resentment and inferiority complexes and bitterness left to fester until he can make it everyone else's problem and that IS going to start to bubble up between the cracks with you too if you stick around for long enough. no thank you been there done that wasted my youth and potential on it and all I got was this lousy shiny set of new emotional intimacy issues haunting me for life! trust me illario I HAVE, as it were, chosen the wrong dellamorte before, which is exactly how I know I didn't this time. go get him lucanis I've got your coffee

hilarious mental image: rye and illario sitting quietly together while everyone else is busy milling about during a cursed dellamorte family dinner (the vibes are so bad. you know the vibes are bad. sitting as still as you can and hoping for calm skies is your best bet without lucanis or teia favourite child privileges to work with) and rye out of the blue gazing thoughtfully into nothing over the edge of his glass with half-lidded eyes to go 'you know. you remind me a lot of my ex. not in a good way' and illario with absolutely no shame and hilariously also something that's the closest he ever gets to real sympathy going 'yeah, I get that a lot'. best talk those two ever had, unironically. their bond leveled up to its final form that day. *soulsborne boss defeated text* MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING REACHED)

#idly trying to decide what nevarran great house rye's shitheel early twenties boyfriend was part of #(possibly as one of the piddliest side branches of that house too b/c between that and the youngest son thing..... bad news)#there would be something especially delicious about him being a van markham of course. adds some Layers #to the baron van markham situation. but maybe that's TOO neat. nobles can just suck as a Class (as they do). I must Contemplate #I do really love the idea I'm going with here that it could be the youngest son of the duke of cumberland (so an anaxas)#(perhaps grandchild? slightly unclear how the numbers work out there we have too little information to go on I think)#who made so much trouble back home in cumberland they basically sent him off to the capital to raise hell over there lol #the classic 'god idk send him off to an aunt and she'll either straighten him out or they'll kill each other #either way he won't be my problem for the duration' move. oh the tribulations of an afterthought of a son no one really needed #(funny headcanon to make that the pentaghasts can't come up with a solid direct heir to king marcus to save his at least #seven-fold resurrected ass. while the duke of cumberland has heirs. maker help him but does he have heirs the house is full of them #where are they all coming from. his wife staring directly into the camera like she's on the office)#dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #oc: Ellaryen Ingellvar #Lucanis Dellamorte #rook x lucanis #rookanis #illario dellamorte #doing coffee with the crows after the city choice adds quite a bit here lol. among other things it opens the distinct possiblity #that rook has overheard lucanis talk about wyverns in banter and the dagger is a more purposefully chosen thing #much like lucanis' cake choice is dependent on rook's beverage preferences later on. their freaks match #gifts to give your special person to tell them you've done deep research on them but like not in a stalker way #this post went off to places I hadn't expected. but love the rye and illario stuff that turned up here lmao like yeah that feels about righ

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reel-fear · 1 year ago

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Genuinely so curious who Mike thinks is gonna be buying The Cage or the new DCTL GN bc with the way he tweets as far as he's concerned, it's not gonna be:

The queer people he has actively admitted he will never show any representation of in the games.

2. The POC he has actively fought against representing in his franchise. [Who he also mocked for thinking they would be represented in his franchise]

3. The Bendy fandom which has always been concerned with topics of diversity esp in the sense of queer people since its creation. Who he has responded to really poorly esp in regards to the GN.

4. The fans who critique him. [He blocked me for doing so lol]

5. His fans in general who he tweets about like this currently. [He's being vague about why people were mad at him or sent him 'nasty messages' because if you actually looked into why you'd see he was in the wrong. Either way, a very hateful way to speak abt ur own fanbase.]

Reminder while Mike is trash talking his fans he has always treated them rather poorly. The fans who won the fanart contest for Chapter 5 never got their posters actually in game due to it being rushed. Not only was chapter 5 a big slap to the face story wise, but it was literally so rushed he couldn't be bothered to add in the art his fans gave him for his game FOR FREE. [Meatly blames this on a crazy timeline, reminder him and Mike are the literal ceos of this company. The proposal of future updates here is also pretty cruel considering Mike nowadays happily admits he corrupted Chapter 5's source code and therefore literally can't update it At All currently. Because he is a moron]

At least they got to be in Boris and the dark survival, and by that I mean that was the Only game they got to be in so far, isn't that just treating your fans like you love them? Shoving their hard work into a spin off game almost nobody has played or addresses much. [Hell, who knows if with the Lone Wolf rebrand they'll even stay there. In which case they'll be in None of the games, only in the credits of BATIM]

6. The Bendy fans who just generally disagree with him on stuff. Like the new ink demon design where there is literally a public poll showing people generally prefer the old one.

7. The Bendy fans who can see he is actively lying to them. To their fucking faces.

He says this has always been the case, but screenshots and links to tweets regarding the books being canon prove it was not. Does he really think bendy fans are stupid or something? [Unless he's admitting here he lied to Kress when he told her the books were canon which sounds worse!]

8. Anyone who doesn't like the idea of giving money to a guy who laid off tons of employees then afterwards thought it was a great idea to express his anti-union views! Also brag about how good of an employer he was, according to his employees, he was not!

So in summary; Mike is an awful person who has not learned anything from the awful things he did. I will not be purchasing The Cage because, combined with this and his absolute refusal to take any kind of critique or see any differing interpretation of his franchise, I have no reason to think my problems with the franchise will ever be addressed or fixed. I probably will pirate The Cage along with any future Bendy Products [Including the movie] and will do my best to avoid giving it any kind of monetary support. Unless this changes any time soon, I can't see myself making anymore positive Bendy posts soon.

Mike has just managed to make it so hard to speak positively or optimistically of this franchise when he's so willing to broadcast how little he cares about it or its fans. I'm at the point where I refuse to pull any of my punches with my problems with it. What's the point of trying to play nice with my critique when either way the people creating it don't care?

So with this post, I want to invite anyone who feels similarly about the franchise to tell me, make a post or send an ask talking about how all of this makes you feel. It may not change how things are, but genuinely seeing other people share my feelings of anger makes me feel better. It feels nice to see when other people share our same concerns and worries. I'd also love to know if anyone else thinks they'll be avoiding purchasing Bendy products over this.

I'm not forcing anyone to participate in it nor trying to say anyone who doesn't supports mike but genuinely maybe if we can collectively decide to boycott things like the movie, graphic novel and The Cage... It might at least make the bendy devs acknowledge how much they have destroyed their own fandom's faith and trust in them.

The way Mike tweets about his actions like he had no control over why people were mad at him at least proves to me he takes NONE of it back nor regrets it. If you didn't know about his actions and only went off his tweets, you would be led to believe Mike has been needlessly picked apart by fans over things he couldn't control [or in his own words, had his words twisted and taken out of context]. That is not how you speak about your actions if you have actually learned better from them.

anyway, that has been my bendy dev callout post. This is an open invitation to anyone feeling similarly upset about the way the franchise is going to talk about it. It's genuinely nice to see how people feel about this and the more we talk about the more it's likely the bendy devs are forced to address our concerns. I don't think they will but hey, that's why I'm not gonna support them with my money anymore nor am I gonna be nice to them in any content I make critiquing Bendy. I mean I'm also basically making this post just in case anyone asks me Why I feel this way towards to bendy devs/as a way to respond to anyone who thinks I am too harsh in my critique in the future.

As always, it seems the best part of Bendy isn't actually anything about canon but about what the fan's are creating with the ideas Bendy failed to do anything interesting with.

Also the books, the books slap.

#batim #batdr #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #ramblez #bendy and the silent city #bendy the cage #for the record another reason Im making this post is bc some of the only good resources to learn abt why the bendy devs suck are some old #very longer videos and this is a very long post but I thought it was important to document the recent shit theyve been doing alongside some #of the worst past things theyve done bc Mike has been trying to misinform people on what happened but those videos are still great resource #if you want more info n such #long post #mike D #for anyone who doesnt wanna hear abt him since he doesnt go by mood anymore #sorry if this is rambley or emotional Im just so sick of these guys fr dskjhgskdfjghskdjhgkjhsd #I miss when I didnt spend my days stressed about the awful shit mike is gonna say next and how I would have to disprove it in a post later #or explain why its bad to have a cast of nothing but cishet white guys n constantly fight back against any push for diversity in said cast #genuinely its just tiring esp when u see other bendy fans give ignorant or very silly defenses/takes on those things #n then u lose a lot of respect for them bc they are speaking on stuff they dont know much abt so confidently and therefore misinforming #people or even encouraging very bad views on stuff like diversity n its importance #Im not saying people like that are bad people but it is stressful n upsetting when u see someone u thought knew better do that sort of thin #it makes it hard to trust them again on other issues bc u now dont trust they know what they r talking abt!!#like please think twice before telling young artists making norman white was a tough and complicated decision it was fucking not the bendy #devs just think all their humans are white by default and dont wanna change that its been proven time n time again thats all it is #and defending them just bc u like a franchise they made is very very bad!! They are not ur friends!! they suck and we seriously need to #stop pretending they dont!! toxic positivity is only gonna make the fandom an absolute nightmare its not gonna make ANYTHING better #it just means people will be forced to PRETEND they never have negative thoughts abt the franchise n therefore make them burned out #just look at other similar fandoms please lets not make those same mistakes!!#sorry can u tell Ive been having just. A time recently #anyways back to making my queer ass bendy fan game full of so much diversity mike will prolly shit when he sees it DKFJGHKSDJHGKJHSD

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