#like the color coding is clear

[respectthepetty]

I have random thoughts about colors in episode six of Peaceful Property, so I'm writing them out without any real order or reasoning.

Home is a Red Rascal. Peach is a Cyan Cutie.

But Peach tends to be more of a Blue Boy.

(And that "More Than Friends, Less Than Lovers" shirt is gay)

Home has consistently been wearing more blue in his outfits.

And in episode five, he wore purple (which is a mixture of blue and red) while Pangpang wore blue to support her brother in the Peach-focused episode.

Peach, in his darkest moment, wore a very dark blue shirt.

Home is a Red Rascal.

Peach is a Cyan Cutie with a tendency to lean more into his Blue Boyness.

And they are color-coded boys . . . in love.

During Peach's darkest moment, his color turned darker, and now during Home's darkest moment, he also has turned dark.

And when he hit Home, he was also darker.

Panppang is a Pink Person and Kan tends to be a Brown Beauty (but can be considered neutral, but even her bag this episode was brown as well as her shirt).

So why did Kan pick the red drink (with the yellow straw) and give Home the green one (with the blue straw)? Girl was playing color games, that's why! She knew Home's secret. She keeps his color. She knows he hit Peach. She gives him some of Peach's color, and offers him the advice of confessing. She is giving him in out but still holding onto him. Sidenote: The drinks were too sweet because Kan has proven multiple times that she has a sweet tooth, and her ghost better involve a candy maker.

Home wears Peach's color again when he has a nightmare and calls Peach to calm him down. But he is also wearing yellow (the car?!). Sidenote: The blue whale last week in the tub now the polar bear mask. This is a BL and the polca people know it.

Yet Peach isn't in his normal green or blue color. He is a burnt orange, possibly brown. What's important is Peach is handling something red. Home has been seeing a bloody Peach up until this moment, so this substance could be another allusion to Home's fears, but I think it's important that Peach is messing with the red rather than it being blood on him. The color of his outfit being almost the dullest beginning of red mixed with the red substance makes me think something is starting to develop, like feelings for a Red Rascal.

The next day, they are back in their colors, but brighter than they have been recently (but Peach has yellow on too!).

And Kan is in blue. She agrees to play along with this schtick for the Cyan Cutie's sake.

And Pangpang is adorable in her pink (and purple).

The final dish comes, and it's a red strawberry dessert about forgiveness. *stares directly into the camera* Are you picking up what I'm dropping off?

I was worried that Kan was in love with Home when I saw the BTS images when the show was filming. She is wearing red as she plays along. She also questions Peach about the car accident in front of Home in the kitchen. Therefore, unlike Home who keeps wearing blue (because he is in love with Peach!), I don't think Kan is in love with Home.

The red drink, the red dessert of forgiveness, the red suit. They were all warnings that Kan knew, and even when she shot the confetti at the end, the colors were blue, red, and purple (with white too). It's Peach and Home. She sank my ship.

But Home caught a pink taxi (of love) to get to Peach after Suradech was ordered by his uncle not to leave the driveway.

Because Home started that adventure brightly in his color (and his Muhammad Ali shirt) ready to confess *wink*, but his uncle got in the way, and now the "Cok Long" sign is no longer lit!

Once again, Peach's colors get dark because this is a horrible moment (and he hasn't worn his glasses for the majority of this episode).

He leaves behind the blue burner and the purple uniforms (so he is leaving behind the ghost business AND cooking).

And even though Pangpang supports her brother in blue, there is a little red hiding underneath her shirt over her heart (she is the ultimate shipper).

So I'm excited to see Home sulk next week in BLUE and yellow (the car?) because even his house is darker without Peach and Pangpang in his life.

It looks like he is wearing a shirt with red "DUDES" text on it (because only the gays wear this shirt) on the outing next week, but the shirt is blue.

And even though there is no hint of Kan in the preview, Pangpang is back in her pink while Peach is wearing the same shirt we were introduced to him in the very beginning. However, the green around the shirt's collar is darker, there are stains on it, and he is wearing glasses again.

Since we know ForceBook are showing up as the (gay?) ghosts, it's even better that they are wearing red, simply because I think this will help Home start his forgiveness tour.

Because Home and Peach are color-coded boys . . . in love.

So when will Peach wear red?

[donttellunclesam]

flagging and other such shenanigans

(close ups under the cut)

[sincerely-sofie]

*silently slides Twig/Ark content onto your dash* *scurries away into the night*

(Read the rest under the cut!)

[assumedcryptid]

[lunapwrites]

Had a random thought but consider Sirius and Remus bonding upon finding out they were both colorblind AF but also different types of colorblind

Like Remus has protanopia but Sirius has straight up cone monochromacy so neither of them actually know what color their robes are.

James: Why can't you two just be regular blind like me?

Pete: [watching them trying to disguise themselves as Slytherins but putting on Hufflepuff robes] Because this is a million times funnier.

[lapdogchase]

welp its official

[regenderate]

rewatching wild blue yonder. did anyone else notice that anytime the doctor and donna are separated the real doctor gets blue lighting and the real donna gets orange lighting

[svtskneecaps]

feel like the global tasks sweep strat should probably be nerfed somehow. my thought would be, give each team an individual ten minute overall cooldown on global task claims. that is to say, a certain team can only claim one global task per ten minutes. say, deliver gas masks, and then in ten minutes you're allowed to deliver tea, and then after another ten minutes you can claim hot chocolate.

another teams would be able to claim a global task for bananas during this time, and their own ten minute cooldown would start.

(the global tasks can either keep their individual ten minute cooldown [i.e. after tea is claimed no one else can claim tea for ten minutes] or a slightly shorter cooldown, say 5-7 minutes)

when a global task is claimed, everyone is notified, right? if not, in my hypothetical, they will be.

then, a team trying to sweep six tasks at once would actually take sixty minutes to do, allowing another team to swoop in and have a chance to stop it in cinematic, entertaining fashion rather than tubbo having to grind resources and then log out in front of the merchant to counter this, which is boring for everyone (including the person delivering). plus, if a team cuts it down to the last second and ends up getting delayed, they physically wouldn't have time to make a delivery, meaning even being a BIT of a nuisance could be a viable strategy, even if you can't manage to kill; if you can STALL you could still wreck their plans.

that's my dream anyway idk i'm not a game designer. just think it would be interesting for most players

(i elaborate under)

red team would have to shake up their strategies, which is fun since they're a team that kinda has to rely more on strategy than outright brawn (overall the team's pvp can't be relied on unless they have carre or phil, as seen today when pierre, bad, and etoiles attacked phil cellbit foolish and baghera, and cellbit and foolish both died to etoiles in the attack, despite it being a 4 on 1 at the time. baghera was killed by bad soon after. phil was the one to get the kills. the first day, when blue attacked [niki, tubbo, and bad as i recall] carre got both kills)

the other teams would then still have a way to stop a global sweep since a sweep would have to start earlier, allowing not only more time to arrive at global to pvp about it, but ALSO allowing another team to swoop in and steal the goal out from under the team again

i'm gonna use it in a scenario bc i'm badboyhalo and i can't stop myself from making examples:

so, tonight, if the proposed cooldown was in place, bad and tubbo would both still had roughly 17 minutes when red team would have HAD to start the sweep process if they wanted all six global tasks: 1 hour until the server closed at absolute MINIMUM. more for safety's sake.

therefore, in this scenario, there's a lot to happen

blue team could wait at globals, knowing red will probably try this strategy, and attempt or perhaps SUCCEED in killing red. if they kill red entirely, the operation is a wash; red doesn't have to gear to come back from scratch and take out blue team, and even if they could, the travel time to return to globals alone would mean they wouldn't get all the global tasks, potentially meaning they don't take the lead. if blue team is unable to kill red and dies themselves or has to retreat, but succeeds in delaying red, red would face the same problem.

if red sends in all of the task items on one person, and that person dies, even if the rest survived, blue could loot the items from that person and would be able to either use the items themselves, if green is currently the owner, or could run away with the items, effectively wasting red's time and again, meaning they wouldn't get all tasks claimed even if they were able to overtake the runner and reclaim their items.

i'm unclear what would happen if red divided the task items between them since it seems like the person claiming the task doesn't have to have all (or any? again, unclear) the items in THEIR inventory in order to claim so long as a teammate is nearby with the items in their inv (evidence: pac's vod "voltei... o que tá acontecendo no QSMP?!" at roughly 3:00:00; tubbo claims tea and tea is taken out of pac's inventory. i don't know the limits of this strategy)

blue team also has time to swoop in and steal a global task out from under red during this time. say, if red team had claimed the task for 10 tea leaves, upping the price to 15 tea leaves, and then blue team snuck in and claimed the task and set the price up to 20 tea leaves, (since the proposed 10 minute cooldown on claims would be TEAM LIMITED; red's cooldown applying to red only and so on). if red waited until the last second, they wouldn't have the time to reclaim this task even if they did have the resources, possibly forcing them to start their sweep earlier to counter this possibility, at which point team members who had logged on earlier and are out of time by the end of the night, OR members who live in time zones that don't allow them to stay up until server close, may have an easier shot at participating in defending against a global sweep.

all of this DIRECT CONFLICT would make for good audience entertainment and heighten the stakes of an attempted global sweep, since it would practically have to be one team defending globals for an hour while they pipe all their resources into it, knowing that if they die another team could easily swipe their task resources and use it themselves (along with the rest of their gear). it makes it more interesting, while still mostly viable.

plus it would force more strategizing for red team which is maybe just a personal plus, i just really like seeing people planning both in advance and in spur of the moment. it's really satisfying to see how a plan comes together and succeeds or fails; plus, since red team is the main team using this strategy at the moment and their main draw and strength as a team is cohesion and communication this would be completely fucking riveting for me as a viewer so maybe this is just a personal thing. but i really really think it would be fun

but again, i'm not a game designer, or a qsmp player, or a qsmp admin, or honestly even really a gamer? so maybe i'm off my rocker and out of my gourd and this isn't viable or balanced in any way shape or form but YKNOW what is this blog except putting stupid thoughts into the void and seeing if this time the void spits back hate mail so. i'm folding this into a paper airplane and throwing it into the abyss. hopefully it made sense.

k love you appreciate you getting this far, have a good week!!

(i hope your team gets a win in dramatic fashion and celebrates together!!! i hope they come together and unleash a plan so spectacular it takes the server by storm!!! i hope it's so good it becomes a vod you go back to even years in the future!!!! i hope you have a good week!!!!!)

[floralovebot]

helia is obv meant to be androgynous and bishounen but I get why people would think he was designed to be a woman initially because his name is a woman's name actually. helia is a girls name. also, compared to avalon or other long haired characters, he's also somewhat more different.

I don't think it's too far fetched. some language groups like greek fans could have other pov. in latin american spanish his name was changed to helio for this very reason.

i know his name is feminine. that still means nothing tbh

sky is a popular girl's name in the west. does that mean he's automatically a girl? like no of course not. no one is arguing that sky is a woman just because of his name. griffin is a masculine latin name. don't see anyone questioning her. if his name is the Only proof people have that helia was meant to be a girl, that's weak when other characters also have feminine/masculine names that don't align with their canon gender.

also, you need to ask yourself, what is different about helia? like actually answer that question. what exactly makes helia different from characters like palladium, valtor, or avalon. it's not his body - helia has the same muscular body the other specialists have and he's one of the few male characters we see shirtless on screen. it can't be pacifism - he's not a pacifist and pacifism is not a feminine trait. it can't be art or poetry - neither of those things are feminine traits/hobbies. it can't be his fashion - he's just wearing a shirt and jeans. if anything his wardrobe would be considered more masculine compared to the crop tops the other specialists are wearing (even for the time). it can't be his personality - nabu is also wiser and gentler, timmy is also a simp, brandon is also caring.

so what exactly makes helia different from other long haired male characters?

nothing. that's your answer.

the only thing that makes helia So different is that other long haired male characters are often coded as white Or specifically have darker skin, so fans don't feel the need to question their masculinity (which is a Whole other discussion). helia is not coded as white. even fans who don't consciously realize it are still picking up on that coding. these white fans then feel comfortable questioning his masculinity because they've done that to men of color for decades. it's not just asian men either. white people love to question the masculinity of all men of color, regardless of race or skin color. that's how they demean them. how they separate them from white men. they uphold certain racial and gender stereotypes and then demean any man who "doesn't fit that". which in their eyes, is all men of color.

it's like this: man of color doesn't adhere to western/white/european cultural standards > white people realize, don't like, insult them, and try to make them feel like they need to adhere > white men prioritize the patriarchy and feel the need to glorify it > in order to insult men of color, they specifically call out and question their masculinity > white people around the world think this is genuinely innocent because it focuses on gender instead of race > white racists get away with it

listen, i know at first this seems like a really harmless and maybe even amusing topic. "oh helia is so pretty people think he's a girl ahahah". and for some fans it is genuinely harmless. they just think he's too pretty to be a man. and then they realize, laugh it off, and don't question it again.

unfortunately, that's not the case for a lot of other fans. it's not innocent. it's not harmless. it's white people picking up on racial coding and questioning his identity because of it. you guys don't do this to other characters. you don't do it to sky, who also has a "feminine" name. you don't do it to palladium, who is slimmer and has a gentler, nicer personality. you don't do it to saladin. or nabu. or ogron. or gantlos. or anagan. or tritannus. or nereus. or king neptune. or king teredor.

all of those names are male characters with long hair.

i know it's nice to assume that this is innocent and genuine. but unfortunately, that's not the case. this is an example of something that isn't innocent for a majority of adult, white fans. even if they're not doing it On Purpose. subconscious bias is called that for a reason.

[cerbreus]

Sometimes I have an epiphany about something about myself being very not normal when I'm trying to explain all these intricate paths of logic and plans and how I map out every little tidbit of every little thing I'm stressed about or working towards n I see the look on their face and go 'oh okay so this isn't.... How normal people approach things.....'🤔

[welcometoteyvat]

pet peeves: drawing people yellow

[spinifera]

another thing abt reading mirage right after watching rise/mm is that like now im very aware of the fact that for sweeping iteration crossovers everyone only ever really gives a fuck about the audiovisual media. usually the animated stuff but i do see the bay movies around more than like, the 07 movie tbh. sticking to just the animated tv shows seems like a very reasonable limit but when u start adding more things i feel like you have to admit ur picking out of the things you've watched and enjoyed etc. etc.

[return-of-the-vegetable]

_ this website is better than twitter in a lot of ways (((e.g. no character limit. or well there is one but its like a bajillion letters instead of 400ish. how cool is that))) but i will admit that twit is more suited for fastpaced interaction with your followers/oomfs/mutuals than tumblr is. __ idk why that is and i dont really care enough to try & look for the reason why but i feel like the difference that exists between retweeting & reblogging stuff might be part of it. ___ if youre on twitter retweeting doesnt clog ur account or your timeline too much since its just one singular meager post but on tumblr, mass reblogging a bunch of posts that differ vastly in length clogs up ur blog or the dash for all followers & mutuals do. plus the timeline refreshes faster than the dash does but im still sitting here shrugging my little heart out. I dunno!

_ tumblr has the better humor award thanks to its userbase though its sheer utter ridiculousness turns into hilariousness very often & i love it

[sega-saturn-arcade]

Last night I got curious over what exactly happened between me and Medkit and why it escalated. I’ll be walking through this in chronological order as MUCH AS I CAN, with of course the gaps of memory of the exact happenings.

This is a long one so i’m going to preface this by saying I am not entirely sure what happened yet and I can’t for sure say “this feels 100% right” which leads me to believe there’s something else to it? It’ll come in time, I am sure

GREEN is CONFIRMED MEMORY.

ORANGE is UNSURE.

PINK is THEORY.

MEMORY GAPS are in [BRACKETS]

Another Important Note is that not all unsurety is entirely true as I misremember details sometimes, and not all theory is false—it is merely speculation upon what might’ve happened. If this makes sense

Memory under the cut. CW/TW for violence and description of eye trauma.

Medkit and I enter the lab that day. It’s early in the morning, so not many people are there. Yesterday we might have had a breakthrough on the crystals in some way that showed us that there was something that could change the entire world, that they were more than simply stupid powerful. We decide to sleep on it, and come back the next day to discuss and do whatever we had to in the lab that day. We begin talking about what the crystals can do, both standing bc at our usual station. I start the conversation with wonder. I cannot remember my exact words, but I said something along the lines of how the crystals were amazing and could change the world. He agrees, and I continue.

[There is a gap here of how exactly we got onto this topic as to what was said.] I say something about how the faction’s militaries could utilize the crystals to protect its citizens and fairly have defenses, something of that sort. He disagrees with me and says that he doesn’t trust the governments, and especially Blackrock’s. He wants something better for the world in a way to utilize the crystals, something about the people personally. [I GENUINELY cannot remember what exactly he wanted however I do know it was anything BUT the government.] Maybe he perhaps wanted to keep our work away in some way, MAYBE destroy some of it? Regardless, we started arguing over it. The fight escalates very badly, and I push him and he pushes back, which sets me off and makes me go after him by pushing him again but harder.

[Memory gap, I do not know what exactly happened to get to this point.] I was on top of him, and we were struggling with each other. I clawed out his eye somehow, either with my bare ass fingers or gloves or whatever or a sharp object. I did not cut his eye out meticulously as I was too angry to consider doing that. (also, he was a childhood friend, I think the maximum amount of violence is whatever managed to occur during this fight. I also had morals despite it all.) If anything, the reason i clawed it out was because i was swatting at him with one arm and I managed to get his eye. He then (I would obviously assume) got mad at me for this and [does something to get up and turn the tides in his favor] clawed out my eye the same way? If not, he might have grabbed something sharp like a lab scalpel and specifically sliced at me.

I don’t think we had ever seen each other that mad at each other before. We weren’t thinking straight at all, or at least I wasn’t. I don’t think I ever truly intended the fight to start to begin with.

(Here’s where things start to turn into gaps and bits and pieces. I’ll try to connect them the best I can.)

I think it’s important to note neither of us had our gears—they were left at home.

We punch at each other and throw things [details unremembered and muddled]. At one point, Medkit grabs a scalpel. He slices at me and gets me pretty good in some places. He ends up stabbing me a few times in non fatal places (but they were still deep cuts that hurt—I remember retaining scars on my body from some of those slashes and stabs) This was kind of ignored by me in the long run because of adrenaline, but this fight went on for a long while and I was moving around a lot which I don’t think helped the bleeding.

As I am writing out this memory I remember him with a lab scalpel in his hand, I was on the other side of the lab and I was bleeding, but I know I was not focused in the slightest because adrenaline was doing things to my brain. We’d known each other all our lives, but I have never seen such anger and spite in his eye (this was after he took mine, judging by the conscious realization of a void on my left side of my vision).

It felt like there was only negative emotion in that expression and thought. Someone who had such gentle expression usually and tone had shown a fierce, driven-by-anger expression. I think I would have thought on it more if I wasn’t in the moment of anger myself, but I think a part of me paused to think about that. It wasn’t scary, but there was an emotion I couldn’t and cannot describe to you that was in the back of my mind.

[Memory gap. The fight continued for a while but I don’t remember the details.] Regardless, I started getting weak from the wounds I sustained and the blood loss. I remember feeling tired and a little sick, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. [Memory gap again between that, though this was a bit closer] I know at one point we grabbed each other and with his full body at full force shoved me backwards. I remember slipping on the shattered glass on the floor and falling backwards. There was a cabinet island table thing there, and I remember the adrenaline wearing off at this point. I don’t think I could physically get up. I might’ve blacked out from blood loss and gone into medical shock/hypovolemic shock.

[Large memory gap between then and the time of which I was aware I was in the hospital] I am genuinely unsure how much I faded in and out of consciousness, or if I even did because once again there’s a big memory gap. However I do know that my recovery took longer than I assume Medkit’s did, because when I was able to fully recover he had fled Blackrock entirely. I blamed myself for starting that fight and blamed myself for him fleeing Blackrock for the period of my life that I remember from that point. [Note: Assuming it was critical, it could have taken anywhere up to a week or two, to at max a month. I cannot remember what time period or how long it took.]

That is about as much as I remember of that fight, and while it is still a lot of detail I still have yet to remember it entirely as again there is a TON of missing detail. cool awesome i love memories. Yippee!

[luna-azzurra]

Genius Things to Do When You’re Stuck in Your Plot...

Make a fake conspiracy board connecting every character like you're solving a murder. Use string, post-its, color-coded chaos. Even if your book isn’t a thriller, this helps you spot secret relationships, hidden motivations, and “oh crap, this character actually caused that moment three chapters later” reveals.

Write a therapy session transcript for your protagonist. What would they say to a stranger? What wouldn’t they say? What does the therapist pick up on that they don’t? (Also: gives you instant internal conflict fuel.)

Record a fake podcast episode where your villain is a guest. The topic? “Why I Was Right and Everyone Else Is Just Soft.” Let them monologue. Let them get unhinged. You’ll learn so much about their worldview and how they justify their chaos.

Assign zodiac signs to all your main characters and write how they’d react to a haunted house. Not because astrology is the answer—but because forcing your brain to imagine characters in weird situations unlocks surprising truths. (Your Scorpio would definitely flirt with the ghost. Your Virgo brought sage.)

Write the worst possible ending to your story on purpose. Like, make it hilariously bad. Deus ex machina, everyone dies, aliens show up—it doesn’t matter. Sometimes mocking your plot actually helps you figure out what doesn’t work so you can reverse-engineer what does.

Do a “what if this happened instead?” daydream session in the shower or on a walk. No pressure. Just free-thinking. Let your brain go off-road. You might stumble into a better twist, or a softer moment, or a scene that guts you in the best way.

Write the one scene you’re most excited about—now. Even if you “haven’t earned it” yet in the draft. Screw linear order. Give yourself a jolt of joy. That scene might be the key to unlocking everything else.

Make your characters write Yelp reviews about each other. “One star. Always steals my fries. Would still die for him.” This is ridiculous, yes. But it will reveal interpersonal tension you didn’t know was there.

Tell your plot to someone who knows nothing about it—and see where they get confused. Your roommate. Your cat. Your reflection. If you can’t explain it out loud in 2 minutes, it’s probably too complicated. Simplify the heart of the story. Get clear again.

Write a flash-forward epilogue. Even if it never makes it into the book. Where do these characters end up? Who are they now? That can tell you where the real story wants to go—and help you figure out what’s missing along the way.

[stellamarielu]

soft

jack abbot x female reader

summary: jack gets injured on his shift and you’re there to help him get stitched up, making it impossible for him to ignore the soft side you bring out in him— especially when it makes his heart rate jump alarmingly high.

content: just a whole lot of fluff, reader is a resident on robby’s shift and jack has a capital c crush, i’m talking down astronomically bad, cursing, lots of cheesy banter between robby and jack bc i couldn’t help myself, reader is described to be upbeat and positive, very sunshine x grump coded, also the reader wears bright colors and patterns from time to time [sorry if that’s not your jam it just has to be that way for the plot, you get it], mentions of a brief altercation, mentions of blood and stitches, bad medical terminology [don’t yell at me i tried my best]

word count: 3.5k

author’s note: ok so hi this is my submission for the A DOCTOR A DAY event! but it's also a request from the lovely and talented @letsgobarbs so I thought I'd put them together and make this bad boy. thank you loops for the extraordinary idea, and thank you to my lovely babies, @clubsoft @ananonymousaffair and @letsgobarbs for putting on such an incredible little event! very very excited to see all the entires! my assigned dialogue was, “nothing defines a man like love that makes him soft.” and the color i got was green!

A reoccurring psych patient, and an elbow straight to the eye, landed Jack a seat in his own emergency department.

“I’m fine,” his voice came out with a twinge of annoyance, and a profusion of frustration as he side-eyed Robby from across the room.

But he was indeed, not fine. He was annoyed— borderline livid— at the current situation.

He should be on his way home, not sitting in an open treatment room with blood trickling down the side of his face.

It was completely unintentional, just an unstable patient throwing limbs in an effort to avoid an IV. What he thought would be his last case of the day, was now the reason for his friend making jokes at his expense, while Jack waited to get his brow sutured up so he could finally go home. 

“Yeah Okay. Whatever you wanna tell yourself.” Robby’s voice filled the room as he gathered supplies for the simple procedure.

“If Gloria found out you got a work related injury and walked out of those doors without somebody clearing you— on my shift? She’d have my neck.”

“Whatever, just make it fast.” 

All Jack could think about was how last night’s shift felt like the longest one he’d worked in a while. Taking a hit straight to the face was just the cherry on top of a dreadful night. The comfort of his bed was starting to look unbelievably far away as his presence at the hospital persisted long after it was supposed to.

“What’s the rush? You got a hot date I don’t know about?” Robby’s expression was a little too amused for Jack’s taste, as he placed a pulse oximeter on his finger.

“Yeah actually, her name is a breakfast bagel from Cal’s and 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep.” Jack stared down at the contraption sitting on his pointer finger, almost chuckling to himself at Robby’s commitment to care.

“A pulse ox? You’re really serious about this whole Gloria thing huh?”

“Yeah she’s been on my ass lately. Plus you got hit pretty hard, gotta make sure you don’t go down on us. Your risk for a heart attack is only going up with your age.” The smug curl of Robby’s lips as he pulled at the latex of his glove, made Jack instinctively roll his eyes.

Before Robby could start stitching, Dana’s voice carried into the room as she passed by the open door, “Robby, we’ve got a motorcyclist coming in. Multiple open fractures, severe blood loss with trauma to the head, and a possible pneumothorax, about 3 minutes out.” 

Robby shot Jack a knowing look as if to say, sorry buddy, duty calls.

“Oh c’mon, you’ve got this in three minutes.” Jack was desperate to get out of the hospital and on his way home. He was right, they both knew Robby was more than capable of lacing up two or three quick stitches before he was needed on the incoming trauma.

“As much as I would love to sit here and miss potentially the best case of my day to be ridiculed by you, I’m gonna have to make your fucked up eyebrow somebody else’s problem. Don’t worry, I’ll leave you in good hands.”

The sudden smirk Robby shot his way, had confusion clouding Jack’s mind. It wasn’t until the smug attending was calling out your name, that Jack understood the motive behind Robby’s words.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me.” The murmured annoyance from Jack’s lips sent Robby chuckling.

The laugh was no doubt caused by the memory of a shared confession over a couple of beers not more than three weeks ago.

Jack and Robby went out for drinks on their day off. It was a regular occurrence, but that specific night was a little different, because that night, Jack let it slip that he thought you were pretty. 

The men were sat side by side at the bar, recounting some of their best cases of the week, when Robby brought up your impressive intubation record.

Jack’s comment on your abilities had Robby stunned into a quick moment of silence.

“Pretty and she knows how to clear an airway.”

It was a subconscious declaration of affection from Jack, spoken into his glass as he took a sip of beer. 

A meek confession that Robby clung to, because he’d always noticed it— the way Jack’s stare lingered a little too long on you in those fleeting minutes when your shifts overlapped.

It was impossible for him to miss his friend’s not-so-subtle flirting when you were around. He’d been patient, waiting for Jack to bring it up first.

“Just your type.”

Robby’s words met Jack in the same way, stumbling off his lips and into his glass before taking a swig.

You were one of Robby’s residents. One of his favorites actually. A phenomenal doctor, always one step ahead of everyone else and charting your own course without having to be told what to do, it made Robby’s life a whole lot easier. What didn’t make Robby’s life easier? Watching his best friend dance around his undeniable attraction to you. He knew better than anyone that Jack had been out of the game for a while.

In fact, he hadn’t seen him show interest in anyone until you came along. Over the three months of shy smiles and round-about compliments paid to each other in passing, you and Jack's interactions had become impossible for Robby to ignore. He'd even tried bringing them up multiple times to see if Jack would admit to having a crush on you, only for him to jokingly brush it off every time.

“You could ask her out, you know?” Robby kept nursing his drink, trying to look nonchalant because the moment he put too much attention on the topic, he knew Jack would shut it down. 

“Yeah, we’re not doing this.”

And there it was, right on cue. Shut it down, and brush it off, like he did every time.

“Oh come on Jack. She’s great, you’re great, I see the way your demeanor changes when she's around.”

“Oh does it now?” Deciding to indulge in Robby’s incessant need to meddle in his lovelife, Jack fed into his friend’s accusation with raised brows and chuckle on his lips. 

“Yeah you get a little softer.”

“And, what makes you think I’m not just tired after a long night of people griping at me.”

Robby let a brief blanket of silence fall over the two of them before adding one final thought to the conversation.

“Nothing defines a man like love that makes him soft.” Robby smiled as he said it. He knew Jack would give him a hard time for saying something so introspectively cheesy, but he also knew it would resonate with him whether Jack chose to admit it or not. 

“I’m sorry?” Jack nearly choked on his IPA at the abnormally poetic words leaving Robby’s mouth. 

“Did you just pull that right out of your ass or what?” He was giving Robby a hard time, but couldn’t deny the truth hiding in the statement. 

That night he went home and lost more sleep than usual thinking about you— playing out past conversations over and over again in his mind, just to hear you say his name, or to see the captivating curve of your lips. The visions kept him up, even if it was just glimpses of you in his memory.

Robby didn't bring up Jack's comment about you after that night.

A few lingering stares and silent chuckles slipped from him when he watched the two of you interact, but he decided against bringing up that specific conversation. He knew Jack would just dismiss him, and keep to his stubborn reservations when it came to you, so he didn't push. 

This was the first time Robby took a chance, venturing into the territory of Jack’s confessed feelings. The timing was impeccable, with him needing to find someone else to do Jack’s sutures. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to force the two of you to be alone in a room together. 

“What can I say? I like watching you squirm,” a low giggle remained on his lips as Robby aimed his words at Jack, just before you appeared in the doorway.

“Hey, what’s going on?” 

Soothing with a gentle glimmer of energy, your voice flooded the room in mellow twilight and shimmering stars, hitting Jack’s ears in a way that instantly made his face heat up.

“Dr. Abbot here, took an elbow straight to the face first thing this morning. I was gonna stitch it up, but they need me on the incoming trauma.” Robby barely looked your direction as he spoke, but Jack couldn’t take his eyes off you, only a few feet from him, watching from the doorframe.

“Think you can handle it?” Robby glanced over at you as he joked, a grin stretching across his face.

“I’ve got it covered, boss.” You matched his playful tone, and the whimsical change of your voice made Jack’s eyes divert to the ceiling because— fuck Robby for doing this to him. 

“Make sure to keep an eye on his vitals, he took a pretty hard hit.” Robby’s voice carried from down the hall as he walked out of the room, leaving you and Jack alone.

You took to the space in front of Jack. 

Your body slid so effortlessly next to him, that he had to fight not to adjust his position under the sudden nervousness of having you so close. 

Drawing a quiet breath at the feeling of your thigh resting next to his, he sat still on the edge of the cot. You were on his right side, your left leg gently pressed against him as you leaned closer toward his body to get a good look at his face.

“Damn that’s bad. Someone really had it out for you this morning, huh?” Your fingertips barely touched his temple as you examined his forehead. An audible swallow pushed down his throat at the contact.

He didn’t know what was more embarrassing, his body’s immediate response to your touch, or the fact that he’d nearly been taken out by a patient, and you were the one witnessing him in such a vulnerable position. 

“Yeah well, he had a really effective defense response. I'll give him that.”

Thank god his voice didn’t betray him. His words came out clear and concise, despite the fluttering in his chest at your body right next to his.

Then you laughed. 

He really loved your laugh. In fact, he went out of his way to make jokes just to hear it. It was soft, but rich. The kind of distinctive, infectious sound you could hear in a crowded room ten years later and know exactly who it belonged to. 

“Well, I’m sorry you had to be on the receiving end of it.”

The laughter fizzled from your voice and was replaced with genuine concern as you cleaned his brow. The gentle passes of gauze against his forehead made his mouth go dry, only because he knew it was your fingertips behind the motion.

“Somebody’s gotta take one for the team.” His response was quick as he focused on the words leaving his mouth, trying not to think about the way your hands were working so carefully to take care of him.

Your presence made him nervous enough, but your touch? He couldn’t get a handle on the distraction of your fingers on his skin, even if there was a veil of latex and gauze in between.

You bent further forward into his body, the warmth of your thigh pressing harder against his as your hands carefully angled his head where you needed it, fingertips underneath his jaw, and at his temple. He forced his stare to the floor out of fear that looking into your eyes would send him straight into cardiac arrest.

Looking down at your shoes, he memorized the pattern of your laces to keep himself from thinking about the mildly intoxicating scent radiating from your body. He’d never been this close to you before— close enough to get a whiff of something fresh and so distinctively you.

Maybe it was your shampoo, or laundry detergent? Perfume perhaps?

Shoes. Back to your shoes. It was the same pair of white sneakers you wore most days, but the green socks peeking out at your ankles made him grin. A subtle smile that he was sure you wouldn’t notice as you prepared a needle at your fingertips. 

You always wore a pop of color, something to bring your own personal style into the doldrum of the ER.

It was something he shouldn’t have noticed; the patterned shirts you sometimes wore under your scrub top, the red hair tie you left on your wrist every so often, the memorable collection of colorful socks you constantly sported with your tennis shoes…

The subtle excitement of your accessories matched the bright charisma you brought into the building every time you walked through the doors. You appeared every morning like his own personal ray of sunshine, equipped with an irresistible laugh, sweet smile, and lime green socks. 

“Are you feeling okay?” His sock induced trance was broken at the sound of your voice— abrupt and concerned.

“Yeah, I’m good.” His eyes peered up only to notice your stare fixed on the pulse ox resting on his finger.

He almost forgot about it entirely, busy with the distraction of your proximity taking over his entire being.

“Your heart rate is just really high.” 

Of course it was. 

His heart was nearly beating out of his chest from the moment Robby called out your name earlier. 

“I’m fine.” He tried to move his hand further from your view, hoping to brush it under the rug, and get a move on with the mortifying interaction. 

“Are you sure? If he hit you hard enough to break skin maybe-”

“I promise. I’m fine.” He pulled out a tone in his voice that people usually didn’t argue with. It was a deep, commanding timbre that he had perfected over the years. It came in handy when he had an especially combative patient, or in this case an extremely beautiful woman hounding him for an incredibly humiliating confession as to why he couldn’t get a grip on his bodily reaction to her presence. 

“Whatever you say, Dr. Abbot.” Finally giving up the fight, you let a spirited air back into your words. Jokingly dismissing your concern, and trading it in for weary trust as you let him convince you that he was okay despite his alarmingly high heart rate. 

“But if you go AFib on me…” 

“I won’t,” his voice still held the same robust sound as he looked you straight in the eyes.

“Just stress.” He looked at you as he spoke, and the desperation in his eyes contradicting the tone of his voice.

His stare was tender, and almost pleading while his words spread through the room, sturdy and sure. 

“Or adrenaline or something… I’ll be fine.” He didn’t look away as he continued explaining the reason for his quickening pulse. You found it slightly unnerving, and undeniably endearing as he kept his eyes fixed on yours for far too long. His words began to trail quietly, slowly losing their robust momentum. 

Jack was in a complete daze. He made the mistake of looking up into your eyes, and now he was stuck, getting lost in the all too familiar color, illuminated by the concentration in your gentle stare. He was enamored.

“Well I’ll be quick so you can get out of here.” You reached down to grab some supplies before bringing your hands back up to Jack’s face, finally starting to suture his brow. 

“Although I’m sure Robby would’ve been done by now.” Your eyes zoned in on his injury, while Jack’s stare stayed trained on your face. 

“Eh, I’m glad you’re here and not him.” His voice was amiable and subdued, dripping with a delicate sound you’d never heard from him before. 

“Why’s that?” Still watching the careful work of the needle threading at his forehead, your eyes narrowed in focus, as the question formed on your lips.

“I’d have to deal with his smartass jokes. Plus, he’s too perky in the mornings.”

“And I’m not?”

He wanted to laugh at your question. Of course you weren’t too perky in the mornings. You weren’t too anything. You were perfect. 

“I don’t mind it when you are.” Your movements paused for a split second when the words left his mouth in that same strange, fragile tone.

You could feel his eyes watching- peering up, as you tried your best to keep your attention on your hands.

He felt you stop, internally panicking that he’d said something wrong, he kept talking. 

“I just- you’re different.” The words stumbled out, losing a bit of their fragility as they tripped over each other in an effort to reassure you. 

Your brows furrowed slightly at the word and Jack was convinced he’d just dug a deeper hole to bury himself in. 

“Different?” The one word question left your lips as they struggled to withhold a smile. 

You were amused at the way Jack was fumbling over his words.

It was rare to catch him in such a flustered state. You chalked it up to the fresh wound he’d just received, and his abnormally high heart rate that he really should be paying more attention to. 

“Pleasant.” 

Then you stopped. Longer this time. It must’ve been at least 30 seconds that your fingers paused their threading, as you glanced down at the pulse ox between sutures. Sure enough his heart was racing again.

110 bpm.

You would be concerned about his inevitable descent into a questionable cardiac rhythm if it weren’t for the way his eyes were fixed on yours. His stare was so deliberate, you could feel your own pulse quickening underneath the growing heat of your skin. 

“Pleasant? How so?”

112 bpm.

“You just have this way of making everyone happy. It’s subtle. You’re always smiling and positive, but it’s never performative, it’s just who you are.”

A warmth spreads through your body at the compliment, rolling like waves as each of his words washed over you, completely enveloping you in a state of coy flattery. 

“You’re just easy to be around.” 

The heat threatened to reach your face, as he continued talking. His words were nearly a whisper with his voice floating up to you, low and smooth. 

“I like being around you.” 

115 bpm.

You open your mouth before you’ve even decided how you want to respond to Jack’s innocent confession, then unexpectedly, a voice that’s not yours fills the room.

“Still not done in here?” Robby came barreling into the room. His presence was loud and boisterous compared to the sheepish exchange taking place between you and Jack.

He stopped a few feet into the room. Seeing your body so close to Jack’s, with your hands still working at the injury on his forehead, and your eyes locked on each other, seemed to make him apprehensive about continuing into the room, like he was interrupting something.

“Jesus, let the man go home.” His chuckle echoed around you as he decided to come closer, inspecting your work. 

“That was fast. What happened to that being the best case of your day?” Jack piped up from underneath your touch. He was careful not to move his head as he aimed his question at Robby, eyes averting to the man standing next to you. 

“Yeah, it went south pretty quick.” Robby’s voice finally found a level close to silence, as he watched in concentration while you tied off the last stitch. 

“You need some help there? I could send in one of the medical students-” He joked looking over at you. He knew you were quick. The way you were taking your time, being overly methodical with Jack, was out of character for you. 

“Very funny. I’m done.” You softly glared over at Robby as you took a step back, pulling your gloves off.

“See what I mean about the smartass jokes?” Jack’s eyes were on you, still holding a lingering softness from your unfinished conversation just moments prior. 

“Oh so I leave you two alone for a few minutes and you just use it to talk bad about me?” Pretending to be offended, Robby scoffed at the notion of you two discussing his comedic timing, watching as you and Jack just stared at one another.

“Something like that.”

Your response was hidden behind a smile while you and Jack stayed submerged in a brief moment of smitten eye contact and unquestionable curiosity, before you made your way to the open door.

“I’m gonna get back out there. Try not to take anymore elbows to the face Dr. Abbot,” You joked before taking a single step into the hallway, turning your back for a split second to look at him one last time.

“and I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

With that, you were already halfway down the hall, onto the next patient.

Robby stared at Jack with a goofy smile forming on his mouth as your absence left the room silent.

“Don’t.”

The single word snapped from Jack as he brushed past Robby, leaving the room before he could be hit with his friend’s smug confrontation.

He left for the day, but not before stopping by the triage desk on his way out, purposefully walking past you just to get one last glimpse of your smile for the day.

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