hiii!!! you can call me Asher or Mateo since those are the names i commonly go by now.
im really shit when it comes to intros, but i’m rarely active on tumblr unless i have something to bark about…
but i’m litterlly just a guy. just a guy who has a tail to wag about litterally anything :3
I am really into call of duty, Red dead redemption 2, the pitt, and animal kingdom rn !!
but these are other stuff i’m really into as well^^
Legend of Zelda 🫶🫶🫶
your turn to die🫶🫶
six of crows🫶🫶
master of one🫶🫶
Dark rise🫶🫶
arcane 🫶🫶
batman/dcu🫶🫶
DNI!!
Homophobia/transphobia
Rasicm
Making fun of people for their interests??
Genuinely don’t be an ass
NOR GROSS ‼️‼️‼️
I’m here to have a place to publish art or writing? It’s mostly writing lmao. I have a few fic drabbles and poetry posted. I havnt written fan fiction in a hot minute ._.
jack abbot getting drunk texted by his boyfriend when he’s on shift.
i imagine it could be anything along the lines of: incoherent spelling, thirst texting and wanting jack to come home, some minuscule thought that is SO obvious not a sober thought
and jack mid shift glancing at his phone after a trauma and giggling to himself or smth. Jack texting back respectively
“ohh i know you can wait for me hm?”/ “if your going to do anything send me a video yeah baby?”
jack abbot getting drunk texted by his boyfriend when he’s on shift.
i imagine it could be anything along the lines of: incoherent spelling, thirst texting and wanting jack to come home, some minuscule thought that is SO obvious not a sober thought
and jack mid shift glancing at his phone after a trauma and giggling to himself or smth. Jack texting back respectively
“ohh i know you can wait for me hm?”/ “if your going to do anything send me a video yeah baby?”
jack abbot getting drunk texted by his boyfriend when he’s on shift.
i imagine it could be anything along the lines of: incoherent spelling, thirst texting and wanting jack to come home, some minuscule thought that is SO obvious not a sober thought
and jack mid shift glancing at his phone after a trauma and giggling to himself or smth. Jack texting back respectively
“ohh i know you can wait for me hm?”/ “if your going to do anything send me a video yeah baby?”
He was born in Broken Bow, Nebraska, where everyone knew everyone. It was a small community.
He was so sure that he'd stay there. That he'll find his someone there. That he'll start seeing colors pretty much as soon as he starts school.
He was wrong.
There was no pretending. Sure, maybe he could've pretended that he did, in fact, see that the apples were red, the sky was blue, and the ground was yellow, but it was hard to do. So he didn't.
That cost him his identity and dignity.
His parents started to get harsher on him. His brothers made fun of him. His classmates and teachers looked at him with too much pity when there was a particular topic about colors.
That's when he realized that he wasn't giving up. He would find his soulmates somewhere, and he was going to be happy with them.
He wanted and needed to leave this place.
So he did.
Now he was here, in Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, waking up for his shift at the hospital, where he squatted out. He'd been here since his rotation for Internal Medicine a month ago. Now, it was the first day of his ER rotation.
He was nervous. Sure, he'd been in the ER before during his third year, but he'd heard that PTMC was one of the best ones yet. He wasn't sure how he'd been accepted at all, but he takes the wins he gets.
He got ready in the dingy but functional room. He rinsed his hair, brushed his teeth, and chomped on one of the designated granola bars for the day.
He packed his bag with his things that he didn't want to lose if ever someone did find the room. Then by 6:50 he was out.
———
Dennis Whitaker was a changed man. Maybe for the worse, maybe for the best. He'd found his soulmate, and he wasn't homeless anymore.
Okay, maybe he's lying about the soulmate part. Can't he just say that he knew who it was, but since it didn't really seem to matter to the other half, he just... never brought it up, either.
For the first month that he'd lived with Trinity after she found him on the 8th floor, she's been asking subtly if he had a soulmate.
He always answered vaguely. He tried to feign innocence by sometimes messing up colors and their names. He tried, trust him.
It only happened 11 months ago, when he looked for a senior resident to consult, only to be grabbed by Dr. Robby and forced to present.
"Ah ah ah," Dr. Robby said as he grabbed him, forcing him to face the man.
What the fuck.
His eyes suddenly flashed with vibrancy.
What the fuck times two.
A headache formed quickly.
It's so...vibrant. It was brighter than white. The more he blinked, the more he couldn't believe it.
He was seeing colors!
Wait. That means—
"You okay, Whitaker?" The man let go of him now; he seemed unbothered by it.
What?
Okay. Maybe Dr. Robby was just keeping it professional for his sake. Yeah. Alright.
"Uh- yeah. I had a case for Dr. Collins?"
And yet. It wasn't brought up. At least once. Nothing.
By the time his rotation ended, there was nothing. Still silent on the whole thing, and it stung.
Was he that unlovable? unworthy?
Maybe he really was.
———
He only understood a week later when he saw Jack Abbot.
The first time he'd been acquainted with the man was when he clocked in for the Pittfest shift with his go-bag, which was cool. Then sometimes the man would clock in earlier than he was supposed to. Sometimes he would help pick up cases, or sometimes he would hang around the on-call room.
He saw the night shift attending with Robby. The way they seamlessly moved around difficult cases. Equipment was already handed out to each other before they even spoke. Their diagnoses were clear and concise, and they both knew when to let the other take the lead.
It was undeniable that the two were soulmates. Even before Dennis was in the ED, it was well known that the two were soulmates.
In turn, that meant that Dennis had two soulmates.
He tried to look it up. Maybe there was something fundamentally wrong with him from the start. Maybe this was just a mistake. He knew that people with two soulmates existed; he just didn't think it would be him.
And seriously, not one but two of his attendings?
What a joke.
But nothing came up. There was only one thing that was for sure, and that was it's impossible for one person to be soulmates with one but not the other.
Once he was sure he reached a dead end, he never wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
At least he knew now why his attending hadn't reacted. It was because he already met his other soulmate. There wouldn't be any other indicators otherwise (that may be a lie; there were other indicators, but he chooses to ignore those). He was a delayed soulmate.
Despite all the research saying that a delayed soulmate should eventually introduce himself as one, he concluded that they deserved better than him. They found each other first after all. He didn't want to intrude on their relationship.
Not when they looked so linked. Dennis wanted that too.
So, he kept his distance. It was hard at first, especially since his attending, Robby, had his hands on his neck and shoulders. "Manhandling" (Trinity's words, not his) him every chance the man gets.
But he did. Eventually. He pointedly slipped from Robby's hands as they were about to touch him, and the man seemed to notice.
After that, the attending stopped.
Dennis would be lying if he said that his chest didn't ache at the action, though.
He didn't see the way that Robby furrowed his eyebrows when he did.
———
Before he knew it, he was coughing for almost half of his last year in medical school.
He was through his pediatric rotation when he had to take a break because his lungs burned as an object lodged itself there. He felt and heard his breathing get shallow. His chest ached as he felt his lungs getting full of prickly things. 'Almost like branches,' he thought.
Thankfully, somewhere around after Pittfest and after Trinity had taken him in, he was able to afford the pills.
It didn't take him (a medical student) to figure it out. He was stupid but not blind. He knew what he had the moment he saw purple and magenta petals with twinges of blood on his palm. He knew what disease it was.
Hanahaki.
A particular disease for being unrequited love. Victims are people whose soulmates rejected them, or so they thought. Usually can be cured through surgery, admitting the truth, or plainly knowing what they felt wasn't unrequited. It was rare enough not to happen to just about anyone, but it was also fascinating enough to be studied. So, the world decided to study the disease.
Luckily for Dennis, they had developed pills. Pills for the disease that could prolong the lifespan of someone who had the disease. Not cure it but minimize its damage until the person decides to cure it themselves.
It was cheap enough; apparently big pharmaceutical companies care enough about soulmates to let anyone dirt-poor like Dennis survive through it.
He took them. He knows that logically, he should've told someone. Not only so that he can protect himself if ever he did have a Langdon situation, but also so that he can rely on someone if anything ever went sideways.
That privilege was forced out of him when Trinity suddenly barged into his room while he was sitting on his bed and had the bottle of pills in his hand.
"What the fuck is that?!" Trinity shouted. He was sure they were going to get a knock from their neighboring units again.
"Trin! Lower your voice. You'll get us in trouble." He said as he rolled his eyes and took out one pill, swallowing it dry.
She immediately sat down on the mattress. "Did you really just—?" She went over to him quickly, grabbing the bottle from his hand.
"Hey!" Dennis said, reaching for the container.
Trinity lifted the container up high, making sure the label was facing her so she could read it.
Dennis scrambled behind her as she pushed him with her other arm.
She squinted as she read the label.
Jasminum Samnostreum.
Dennis saw the moment she read the label and knew what it was. He finally gave up on taking the container back.
"What the fuck, Huck?" She said as she lowered the container down.
"Look, I was going to tell you but—" he sighed.
"But what? Jusko po, Den. You didn't trust me enough to tell me that you had Hanahaki? You know what might happen if you forget to take one of these!" She looked at Dennis. Looking at his eyes, searching for any answers.
Dennis looked away as he muttered, "I know, Trin. It wasn't like that. I trust you. More than anyone in my life. It was just..." he paused, running his hands through his face, "it's just so fucking embarrassing. I don't know." he slowly looked up at Trinity.
Trinity looked back at him with soft eyes and said, "I don't think having a rare disease is embarrassing, Huck. I don't think being rejected by a soulmate is embarrassing."
If he wasn't already crying, he was pretty sure a few tears had already run down his cheeks.
Trinity opened her arms while sitting, offering a hug, which Dennis immediately took.
It was a few minutes of silence after that.
"So who is it?" Trinity broke the silence.
"Can you keep it a secret?" He muttered against Trinity's shoulder.
"When did I ever air out your secret, Huck?" She pulled away and looked at him with wiggly eyebrows.
He chuckled wetly, looking at her. "You literally told Javadi that I had never watched Interstellar before."
"Okay, but this is different. Seriously, Huck. I would never tell anyone."
"There's two.. actually..." He hesitates.
"...okay..."
"Would you be surprised if I told you it's Dr. Robby and Abbot?"
"...what?" Trinity looked at him with wide eyes, as if he grew three heads all of a sudden.
"We know they're both soulmates, and I literally didn't see colors until, in your words, Robby manhandled me."
Trinity laughed loudly, "Okay. What the fuck."
Dennis soon followed too.
Yeah. It is absurd to say it out loud anyway, he thought.
Then Trinity stopped abruptly as if she realized something, then she squinted. The voice was now firm. "Is this the case that you never told them or they literally rejected you? Because I'm telling you right now—"
Dennis quickly interrupted her, "I never told them, Trin. So don't go punching your attendings."
"I never said that." She sighed as she now sat at the edge of his bed.
He grins at her, "You implied it."
"Whatever, hucklefuck." She said as she stood up.
She stretched and looked back at him, "Anyway, sappy shit done, that's your dose for the year. You want some palabok? Literally got it delivered, so you better do."
Dennis chuckled as he stood up from his bed too. "Yeah."
And if the two roommates watched a new TV series all night despite having an early shift tomorrow? No one would know except for them. (That's a lie; everyone noticed Santos' grumpy mood and her chugging energy drinks throughout the day.)
And if Trinity constantly reminded him to take his medication? That was for Dennis to notice.
i feel like the same thing goes for like he/him lesbians (which i’m 99%!!! what this is about) and it’s also like bro they are not hurtin ANYONE why are we so pressed about labels and the intricacies of sexuality, gender, and how one wishes to be identified 💔💔💔
like guys PLEASE i promise you a gender queer person calling themselves a he/him lesbian isn’t harming you OR the community (and look at your queer history)
literally because he/him lesbians and lesboys and genderqueer butch lesbians have existed since before any of us were born
also why is it always the most BITCHLESS people doing it too
like it reeks of "im jealous of happy people so I have to find a problem with this" as well as "I think lesbians aren't capable of choosing who they want to be in a relationship with"
and a lot of people’s arguments comes from “oh but you wouldn’t want a cis man calling himself a lesbian” BUT THATS SO DIFFERNT. or saying “if you don’t want a cis man why wouldn’t you want a trans man. it defeats the point” or whateve or like “why would a tmasc want to be called a lesbian when it’s a ‘straight relationship with extra steps” or whever and it’s so auuuufgg omggg guys it’s 2026 can PLEASE move on with our lives. i understand that to SOME people it’s weird that a tmasc would want to call himself a lesbian but there’s so much more to that label escp if the tmasc WAS a she/her lesbian at some point. and it goes sooo much more than that escp with growing up in women/girlhood and having that play so much more into attraction AND gender and !!!!
sighhhh ily he/him lesbians plz never loose your sparkle
i feel like the same thing goes for like he/him lesbians (which i’m 99%!!! what this is about) and it’s also like bro they are not hurtin ANYONE why are we so pressed about labels and the intricacies of sexuality, gender, and how one wishes to be identified 💔💔💔
like guys PLEASE i promise you a gender queer person calling themselves a he/him lesbian isn’t harming you OR the community (and look at your queer history)
He’s going to be staring at his hands like all those years in medical school…. And I can’t help the one person I care about the most……..
Meanwhile we’re laying there in bed like for the love of god man can you please just get me more excedrin and water before I die here (also don’t explode that would be really messy)
jack abbot has parasites and has infected my brain with it. TO BE FAIR. i’ve been this crazy about him for months but this is an all new high because instead of ranting to my friends about it, i am posting it onto tumblr.
part two of whtver this shit is.
—
jack abbot who takes your phone out of your hands because your screen bothers you more
jack abbot who purposefully hides the phone so you don’t know where it is so you HAVE to not be on your phone and acctually rest
jack abbot who has your favorite and easy food to eat on standby when your unwell
jack abbot coaxing you to eat even though you yourself doesn’t feel hungry but he knows your body is secretly hungry
jack abbot who coaxes you to eat with so much praise and affection and promises of added treats in the future
jack abbot who’s proud of you no matter how much you eat off your plate
jack abbot who gives you a snack because he knows you’ll eat better than a meal
(idc if those are like contradictory comments)
jack abbot who helps you bathe when you don’t have the energy to do it by yourself
jack abbot who prides himself in the fact that his sweetheart is all wrapped up in his sheets and clothes
jack abbot who takes you home knowing that his lover spent hours in his bed and smelling like him
jack abbot who hates to leave your side
jack abbot who binges your favorites shows with you
jack abbot who loves seeing you in his clothes
jack abbot who will constantly shower you in praises and affection
jack “my boy” “my love” “my sweetheart” “my darling” abbot
jack abbot who’s there for your every beck n call
jack abbot who just lazes around with you
jack abbot when his own body is giving him a hard time so you return the favor
jack abbot who can’t believe he’s able to live another day and no less with you
jack abbot who thought the military would take everything from him
jack abbot who feels blessed with every day and second he’s able to spend time with you
jack abbot who wholeheartedly believes he’s on “borrowed time” and has to make every second worth it
as requested by TheOneWithWhoLockHallows for the rabbot hole adopt-a-prompt! banner under the cut by @uzmacchiato
When Robby's brain gets so loud that he can barely hear the world around him, he can't bear to make more decisions. That's what Jack's for.
By the time they got home, Robby had made approximately three hundred decisions.
Trauma activations. Staffing shortages.
Who got the last ICU bed, whether to call a family, whether to push back on administration, whetehr to let a resident take the lead—
Every decision had mattered.
By the time he unlocked the apartment door, his brain simply stopped.
Jack noticed immediately.
“Hungry?”
Robby stared into the kitchen like he’d been asked to solve quantum mechanics.
“I…”
“You don’t know.”
“No.”
Jack nodded once.
“Okay.”
No teasing.
No sigh.
Just an acceptance that Robby’s ability to choose had run out somewhere around patient number thirty two.
Jack disappered into the kitchen while Robby kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the couch.
A few minutes later, Jack returned with a bowl.
“What is it?”
“Pasta.”
“What kind?”
“The kind you’re eating.”
Robby looked up.
“You picked.”
“I picked.”
“… Thanks.”
Jack handed him a fork before sitting beside him with an identical bowl.
Decision fatigue wasn’t dramatic, it was quiet.
It looked like Robby standing in front of the refrigerator for four minutes because he couldn’t decide between water and iced tea.
Jack would simply open the fridge.
“Tea.”
“Yeah.”
The glass appeared in his hand before he’d even realised he wanted it.
It looked like Robby staring blankly at the television remote.
“What do you want to watch?”
“I don’t care.”
Jack clicked on an old baseball game.
“There.”
Robby settled into the cushions.
“Perfect.”
It looked like standing in the grocery store.
Jack held up two brands of coffee.
“Any preference?”
Robby frowned at them.
“They’re… both coffee.”
“Mhm.”
“You choose.”
“Got it, boss.”
Jack never asked questions Robby couldn’t answer.
Not after a shift.
Instead, “Blue shirt or grey?”
“Grey.”
Done.
“Chinese or Mexican?”
“… Chinese.”
Ordered.
“Walk or shower first?”
“Shower.”
Simple, tiny decisions.
Never open-ended, never requiring unnecessary thought.
Just enough to help Robby find his footing again.
Dana noticed first, after a brutal shift.
The attendings had escaped to a diner because nobody had the energy to cook.
The waitress arrived.
“What can I get everybody?”
Orders went around the table.
When she reached Robby, he only blinked at the menu.
Everything looked like words; They didn’t mean anything.
Jack didn’t even glance up.
“He’ll have the turkey club, fries, no tomato. Coke.”
The waitress scribbled it down, and left.
Dana watched the exchange.
“… You didn’t ask him.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
Robby smiled faintly.
“He asked me what sounded good after work.”
“And?”
“I said a turkey club.”
Jack shrugged.
“I remembered.”
Dana looked between them.
“Seriously?”
Robby rubbed at his eyes, exhausted.
“If he asks me to make another decision today, I might actually cry.”
Jack slid a glass of water toward him before he could even ask.
“There.”
Without looking. Like muscle memory.
The reciprocation wasn’t obvious.
Most people thought jack was the stoic one, the independent one. The one who didn’t need looking after.
They were wrong.
Three weeks later, a mass casualty. Fourteen hours. Everyone was wrung out.
Jack had been making rapid-fire decisions all day. Which patient first, which OR, which intervention, who could wait another sixty seconds.
His face gave nothing away, but Robby knew.
As they walked toward the oarking garage, Jack stopped.
Just… stopped.
Keys in one hand, looking at the rows of cars.
Robby waited.
“… Jack?”
Silence.
“I…”
Jack laughed once.
“I cannot remember where we parked.”
Robby smiled.
“Blue level.”
“Oh.”
“Row seventeen.”
“… Right.”
“You’ve parked there every Tuesday for six months.”
Jack blinked.
“I have.”
“You’ve also forgotten your coffee on the roof of your car twice this week.”
“I have.”
“And you haven’t picked dinner once since Monday.”
Jack finally looked at him.
“… I’m cooked.”
“You are.”
Jack sighed.
“I don’t want to think anymore.”
“I know.”
Robby held out a hand.
“Keys.”
Jack handed them over without hesitation.
No protest, just trust.
“You drive.”
“I was planning on it.”
People assumed Jack took care of Robby because he was easier to read, expressive. His exhaustion showed.
Jack’s didn’t.
His fatigue looked like becoming quieter.
Missing turns while driving, standing in the pantry unable remember why he’d opened it, staring at the washing machine because he couldn’t remember whether he’d already started it.
Robby knew every sign.
“You already brushed your teeth.”
“I did?”
“Mhm.”
“… Right.”
“You’ve also asked me what day it is three times.”
Jack blinked.
“I have.”
“You have.”
Robby gently took the laundry basket from him.
“I’ve got this.”
Jack wanted to argue.
Instead, he leaned forward until his forehead rested against Robby’s shoulder. Just for a second.
“… Thanks.”
Robby smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
At work, it was more subtle.
No one needed to know.
After a marathon shift, Robby watched Jack reaching automatically for another chart. He quietly intercepted.
“I’ll take bed twelve.”
Jack frowned.
“I can—”
“You’ve been on your feet for eleven hours.”
“I’m fine.”
Robby handed him a fresh cup of coffee.
“Go explain the plan to Ms. O’Connor.”
“That’s…”
“The easy patient.”
Jack looked at him.
Recognition flickered.
Robby wasn’t giving him less work.
He was giving him fewer decisions.
One complicated trauma became one straightforward conversatioin.
One impossible choice became one familiar task.
Jack’s shoulders loosened almost imperceptibly.
“Okay.”
Later, Mel caught Robby smiling to himself.
“Something funny?”
“You know how everybody thinks Jack takes care of me?”
“Doesn’t he?”
“Oh, absolutely does.”
Mel grinned.
“But?”
Robby glanced across the department, where Jack was finally sitting for the first time in hours, sipping the coffee that had mysteriously appeared beside him before he’d realised he needed it.
“But he lets me take care of him.”
“And that’s different?”
“It is.”
“How?”
Robby’s smile softened.
“Jack trusts almost nobody with the parts of himself that stop working when he’s exhausted.”
Across the room, Jack looked up.
Their eyes met.
Robby held up the spare set of car keys with a tiny, questioning lift of his eyebrows.
I’m driving?
Jack answered with the smallest nod.
Please.
No words. None were necessary.
Because love, after enough years, sometimes looked less like grand declarations and more like never having to ask, Can you make one more decision?
fanon rabbot is fun and I love making them have freaked out kinked out sex but when I think of canon rabbot (TW PERSONAL OPINION) I rlly do just want them to be friends tbh. like. genuine real friends that have no fucking idea how to be there for each other but they try anyways. qpr rabbot. maybe a few quiet kisses when it gets bad, when they need connection, curled up and cuddling in robby's bed. it never goes further.
slow burn or love at first sight // fake dating or secret dating // enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers // there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence // hurt/comfort or amnesia // fantasy au or modern au // mutual pining or domestic bliss // smut or fluff // canon-compliant or fix-it // reincarnation or character death // one-shot or multi-chapter // kid fic or road trip fic // arranged marriage or accidental marriage // high-school romance or middle-age romance // time travel or isolated together // neighbors or roommates // sci-fi au or magic au // body swap or gender bent (some characters of various genders are trans women to me, the trans woman, and I will make that real) // angst or crack // apocalyptic or mundane
(the tags have me ranting about my choices)
(fun fact guys i reached tag limits for this post)
tags !!!!
@theweirdestandthewildest @jackoquako @sparrowsortadrawzzz @orionswhispers @imfreakingtuff @anyone who wants to join
