astrid

trying to be more purposeful.

[angeastrd]

astrid. she/her. woc. lesbian. digital diary.

+ : writing. art. medicine. women. gym. makeup. emery walsh. flowers. the pitt. mcu. natasha romanoff. literature. caitlyn kiramman.

- : homophobes, racists, maga, zionists, antisemites, xenophobes, transphobes, etc. i am not afraid to block, please be mindful that i am a person.

[angeastrd]

ok my last shitpost about this BUT i think the pitt fandom has a problem reducing characters (like samira!) to ships.

bc why is the discussion of samira not returning for season 3 suddenly a mohabbot gravesite... like i understand the sentiment but reducing a (female) character to a romantic relationship that doesnt even exist doesn't sit right w me! idk

[angeastrd]

didnt know it was possible but this might've genuinely ruined atremis II launch day

[angeastrd]

the fall of an empire... it was great while it lasted

[angeastrd]

guys samira mohan is coming back!!!!!! she is just at home with emery walsh during season 3.... she just isn't working next shift!!!!

[angeastrd]

ok, i've seen this discussion a lot with al-hashimi's character and wanted to offer my 2 cents! I'd like to preface this by saying I am not pro AI, but i do believe there are nuances on how it fits into the medical field. I do not use AI. Both my parents are high-skilled doctors. I am heavily involved in the medical field, I engage with patients and research regularly. I would love to hear thoughts on this but please do not send me death threats - this is a discussion, ultimately, about a fictional TV show.

Firstly, I'd like to say that the way the ER and primary practice operates is a little discombobulated because patient care is often sidelined in favor of meeting with as many patients as possible. (Sources 1 2 3 ) The US healthcare field is generally understaffed and overworked and patient care and satisfaction is a huge central theme but hospitals expect doctors to meet w/ as many patients as possible within a day, which ends up reinforcing a lot of systemic issues. While there does need to be system changes, AI is helping in making small strides in increasing patient care. (Sources 1 2)

I think theres an argument to be made about the hasty release of AI to gen pop and the repercussions on that environmentally & socially, but considering that healthcare providers make up around 9% - 14% of the US workforce are healthcare workers, and most healthcare jobs cannot be fully subsidized by AI, the environmental footprint is most likely not coming primarily from than but rather (again) gen pop. Hell, theres even a more compelling argument to be made about how AI is invested in so much with such low profit margins (Sources 1 2 3) However, AI has also made strides in healthcare that wouldn't have been achievable for many more generations (Source 1 2) The medical education program is not something you can rely on ai for and pass along through - doctors are taking annual exams (a lot more in med school), boards & not to mention, residency is constant tests where you are being tested off the top of your head. Again, not really something AI can subsidize. There are ethics to consider - a lot of ethics and I recommend reading Danielle Ofri's "What Patients Say, What Doctors Hear," and reading more research on the topic and forming your own opinion!!!!! But AI in these departments are not being used to make diagnoses or provide treatment & I do not believe they should be. I am 100% an advocate for healthcare workers remaining in the field and not being replaced by AI.

I think its fair to critique Al-Hashimi on her ill-timed remarks, and you can critique her on her AI usage but there is a nuance which is important to recognize. Also she is clearly very component considering she was taught medicine before gen AI & she most likely had to be more than qualified considering she's a woman of color trying to match into a high competitive field. (Source 1 2) She is very qualified!!!!!!! She also most likely had to get extra credentials to work internationally. I am tired of seeing these posts that are like "Al Hashimi is my girl but the AI usage..." Her entire character is about her trying to fix the system (which also is very very rare for attendings - especially considering that she worked internationally in crisis times! Morale is already lost by the failures of the US healthcare system and I think it is very admirable that Al Hashimi is still so focused on trying to improve the system.)

[angeastrd]

garsantos... barsantos... hear me out.... all 3 of them... at the same damn time

[jack-abbot]

SAMIRA MOHAN & EMERY WALSH in The Pitt 1x13 — "7:00 PM" // 1x14 — "8:00 PM"

[angeastrd]

mowalsh nation if you can hear me.... please.... please rise up.... rebel against mohabbot and park the shark...

[angeastrd]

on a similar limb (i guess) how are people glazing park the shark and hating on garcia's attitude... theres only 1 (2) differences between the two.....

[angeastrd]

the concept of emery walsh and brandon park... i need a moment. are we meant to believe that pretty princess emery walsh would ever abandon samira mohan for... park the shark. right.. right.

[angeastrd]

they got rid of emery walsh because she would come running as soon as samira collapsed... and berate the fuck out of robby for the way he spoke to her... missing her like a solider at war

[angeastrd]

yolanda garcia and emery walsh had a FILTHY situationship during their gen surg residencies and everybody knows about it but nobody ever dares to bring it up. Nobody knows how it ended - maybe they don't either. One day it was just done. idk Nobody can convince me otherwise.

[angeastrd]

i think yolanda garcia is a very good cook and follows mise en place to a t

[angeastrd]

. . . you got (e)mail

caitlyn kiramman x fem! reader. office romance

when emails from a colleague become more. aka Caitlyn Kiramman has a crush on you & doesn't know how to flirt.

Subject: Paperwork Criteria Comment

Good morning,

I had some time to look over your submitted paperwork. Unfortunately, I do not think it meets company criteria. See my notes, and we will re-evaluate. 

Regards, Caitlyn Kiramman

Fuck Caitlyn Kiramman. You had spent all night making sure that paperwork was up to par – see her notes? God, how the fuck did she have time to do her own paperwork, and then find time to nitpick your paperwork. You had not had enough coffee to deal with the heir of the Kiramman business.

Caitlyn had joined the company a couple months ago, some bullshit about working her way up from the bottom as if her last name was not plastered on the side of the building. Though, you did feel for the girl. She was trying, at least. The emails made the empathy harder. And they were, for some reason, only directed at you.

Subject: Re: Paperwork Criteria Comment

Dear Caitlyn Kiramman,

Fuck you. Literally and Figuratively.

Warm Regards.

You had meant to backspace. Instead, you're met with the ever-familiar whoosh! sound of an email sending. Fuck. 3 googles searches later, and you learn that emails cannot be deleted. And you probably were going to be fired for your email cursing at the boss's daughter. 

Which is how you find yourself, at Caitlyn’s desk, praying she had not opened her email yet. While you wait, you wonder if you should have brought something for her; maybe she liked cupcakes? All you had to offer was the granola bar, ungraciously squished in the bottom of your bag. Fuck.

Heels click against the floor, and the clouds around your head seem to disappear as your eyes meet hers. Her eyebrow raises slightly, before she speaks, “What’re you doing here?” she asks, and she sounds confused; which makes sense, it's not as though people were lining up to talk to the boss’s daughter. Actually, nobody had lined up.

“Hi Caitlyn,” you greet, and then wince at your inability to be nonchalant. “I don’t know if we’ve met before, I’m–,” you start, and she cuts you off. Okay, Great. 

“I know who you are,” she says, before realizing that she had cut you off, murmuring a quick, “Sorry for interrupting. I’ve seen you around,” she says, as if she hasn’t been sending you nitpicky emails spanning over the last couple months. 

“Oh.” you falter, before nodding, trying not to get deterred. “Oh, okay well I was wondering if you had a chance to check your email because I sent you something by accident and it looks really bad, but I swear that's not what I meant–,” you ramble, as she takes out her phone and opens her email. Fuck. Maybe she would get really chill for the first time ever. 

Her lips quirk up at the email. Maybe she thought it was funny. You hoped so. The job market was brutal. “So you don’t want to fuck me literally or figuratively?” she asks, and your face turns to one of mortification fairly quickly. And she laughs– Actually full-on laughs. You had emailed her a bunch of curse words, and here she was, laughing. 

You look, somehow, even more appalled, as manicured nails reach for the water on her desk, taking a sip after her laughter quells. “I’m sorry– it’s not funny.” she murmurs, and somehow the way her accent wraps around the words make the crudeness of your email sound polished. “It’s alright. I’m sure the emails must be irritating, in their own capacity. I’m sorry,” she apologies, and you blink at her; was this a dream? The Caitlyn Kiramman, apologizing to you? You tried not to pay attention to the lilt of her voice, and the way her accent curled around her words. God, she was so posh.

“No! It’s okay– they aren’t that bad. Just frustrating sometimes,” you admit, and the way she looks at you doesn’t seem judgemental or angry – she seems to revel in your presence. You realize, with a slight pang in your heart, guilt maybe, this was probably the most Caitlyn had actually spoken with a co-worker in the year and a half she’d been working here. “Uh– where’d you go for lunch? I’ve been looking for new places,” you throw out, and the smile that she tries to push down is unmistakable. God, she was cute. 

Which is how you find yourself, slowly becoming friends with Caitlyn. The shift is gradual, of course, granted your email, but she seemed to find you amusing. And you enjoyed the reserved smiles that seemed to become a commonality in your presence. First she takes you out to some cafe; hidden away in the bustling street, and the servers seem to know (and adore) her. It was scrappy, but the food was some of the best you’d ever had, and the company might have been better. 

The real Caitlyn was nothing close to what you imagined; she was witty and incredibly sharp, and her laughter was elegant, but she was also kind. The way she would look over your reports – the comments weren’t meant to be nitpicky, they were meant to help you grow. The way she would lend a hand to co-workers who were known for demeaning her position in the company – (nepotism, they called it. You knew better.) The way she seemed delighted to have a friend who was a co-worker; the coffees on your desk before an early meeting, lunches together. You had invited her out to a bar once, after work; she was thrilled, in her own unspoken way. You also learned that Caitlyn couldn’t handle her alcohol. She learned that you did not consider her emails thoughtful flirting. 

So she shifted her approach. The emails were consistent, but they were accompanied by invitations to get dinner together after work. Dinner at very exclusive hard-to-get-into places, which she had no problem getting either of you into. She didn’t correct the hostess when she referred to the two of you as “Mrs. & Mrs. Kiramman.” Neither did you.

Subject: Overtime Query 

Greetings, 

I noticed that you were planning to stay overtime to review your presentation. Coincidentally, as am I, and I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner together afterwards. I have a reservation at 7 o’ clock for 2. I look forward to seeing you. 

Warm Regards,

Caitlyn Kiramman

Dinner that had spiraled into her tongue on you, and somehow she had more skills past her flawless grammar and pristine work ethic. “I have no interest in casual. You’re mine. Obviously,” she had said, after the 4th or 5th time together. Which is how you found yourself arriving to work with Caitlyn. People had muttered, and started; you were sure your names had been thrown around by the watercooler. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care when her manicured hands had curled into yours as you walked to the parking lot.

Today had been a particularly trying day, long meetings and not enough sleep (Caitlyn had returned from a business trip of 3 days, and had taken it upon herself to prove how much she missed you. You already knew how much she missed you. She sent you 12 emails. You didn’t protest.) 

“Can you grab me some coffee too—” you begin, looking up as you hear the unmistakable sounds of her heels – Louboutins today – as she approaches your desk , and she cuts you off as she places the warm cup onto your desk.

 “Already did. Just the way you like it.” is all she mutters, and your lips quirk upwards at the way her ears redden.

“Careful Kiramman, I might think you like me,” you tease.

Subject: I know you didn’t eat lunch.

Meet in my office in 15? I brought food for you. 

Love,

Caitlyn Kiramman

[angeastrd]

. . . late night calls .ᐟ

natasha romanoff x fem! reader. fluff!

after a hard mission, all she wants to do is talk to her girlfriend

“Did I wake you up?” The hoarse voice of Natasha Romanoff is the first thing you hear in your bleary haze, as you blink, willing yourself to wake up. You stare at the unknown number on your screen – burner phone. She wasn’t supposed to communicate with you during missions.

“. . . Huh?” you mumble. Your eyes glance over to the clock; 2:14 A.M. glares back at you, as you focus back on the voice crackling through your phone. You shake your head, before seeming to remember that she can’t see you on the other side of the line. “No,” you correct, perhaps a little too delayed. “You didn’t wake me. Been up. For a while,” you lie. She snorts. She still didn’t understand why you tried to lie to her– she was a professional spy, for god's sake. She was always going to know. Still you liked to try. 

She doesn’t call you on it, instead admitting, “I needed to hear your voice.” She pauses. Was that too vulnerable? Sometimes Natasha worries that you may be in love with the Black Widow the world sees, and not the broken-down, morally gray Natasha Romanoff. She was a fragmented soul, and she dreaded the day that you would gain clarity of that and take your leave. Being with an Avenger already wasn’t easy work – hell, the title had at least a decade of trauma attached to it. It probably was in the contract. Being with the Black Widow? That was more trouble than she was worth.

“I missed you too,” you responded simply, and she was thankful that you were able to read in between the lines of what she was not brave enough to say. “I’m sorry for waking you up,” she starts, and before you can reassure her, she continues, words flowing now that she had begun, “I had to exterminate a target today. He was a HYDRA agent. He had a picture of his kids in his wallet,” she confesses, voice cracking as she tries to recompose herself. “You probably think I’m being ridiculous. Having more empathy for this random man than he had for everything I stand in,” she mutters. 

“I don’t think you’re ridiculous, Natasha. I’ve never thought that,” and you can picture the way her shoulders relax at your words. She had always worried that her flaws were too varied – and her strengths too lacking. “I think you’re incredibly strong, especially to feel so much empathy over someone who was not on your side. I love you,” you tack on, almost like a reminder that she's allowed to feel with you – she’s allowed to admit things and be vulnerable and it's okay. 

She clears her throat, and your heart aches for her. Long distance truly never got easier, but absence did make the heart fonder. “When do you come home?” you offer. Natashas' window of vulnerability had closed by now. But every time, that window got a little longer (for you. The S.H.I.E.L.D. appointed therapist still didn’t even have a window). 

She hums at that, and you can hear ruffling on the other line – she liked to talk to you before bed. It was her version of long distance pillowtalk. “Should be home tomorrow night.” she answers, as a yawn escapes your lips. “You’re tired,” she notes, and there's a hint of apology in her words. 

“‘M not even tired,” you mutter in protest, “I have never yawned in my life. Swear,” you grouse, and she lets out a soft laugh at your words. Your lips curve up at that. You always liked being able to make her laugh; she didn’t laugh unless it was genuinely funny. She laughed with you quite a lot.

“You’re a liar,” she chides. “And you snore. I miss your snoring,” she admits.

“That's gay,” you mumble, head lolling against the pillow. 

“So was the phone sex we had last night?” she counters, and you both delve into giggles. Even though the two of you were apart, you can tell that she muffled her laughs in her pillow – just like you did. 

“Shut up. I need to go to bed,” you mutter, trying to change the topic. You would probably never get used to how easy it was to talk to her. “Stay on the phone. Don’t hang up”

“Needy. Have I ever hung up on you?” she asks, the indulgence in her voice ridiculously evident. “One time your phone died,” you retort, before letting out a big yawn. “Tell me about the rest of your day” Mid-way through her story, she hears a soft snore crackle through the line. “Are you asleep right now?” 

“. . .” 

If you were awake, you’d be able to visualize the fond look on her face. “Goodnight. I love you. Sleep well,” she whispers. 

[angeastrd]

thinking about caitlyn indulging spoiled! reader. . .

Letting you rest your head on her chest, after she had completely ruined you, lithe fingers traveling through your hair. She had cleaned you up, as she always did, and put you in a monogrammed Kiramman house robe. She had made you sit against the headboard while she had done your elaborate skincare routine for you - she had called it ridiculous, but she still made sure to do it correctly, step-by-step. You had recently convinced her to get proper reading glasses (she used to just squint at the words and insist that she could see just fine! Stubborn girl). The silence is comforting, broken only by the flipping of pages, until you mumble a soft, "'m tired," against her boob, and she snorts. "Then shut up and sleep," she mutters dryly, entirely unhelpful, before adding. "You're tired? I'm the one who was inside of you for at least 2 hours. What work did you put in, hm?" she adds. She attempts to sound peeved, but its bellied by the way that she adjusts your neck against her boob, muttering something or the other about "sleep posture."

She'd never admit just how much she enjoyed these quiet moments with you, having you alone. Where she does not have to be Caitlyn Kiramman, head of the Kiramman household, but she can just be Cait. Your Cait.

As much as she liked to complain about how high maintenance you were, she was basically your enabler; a couple weeks into dating, and she had ordered all your skincare and haircare products to be kept in her bathroom, alongside the sink that was unofficially yours. Occasionally, you would find a new makeup product that she had picked out for you, sitting on the countertop.

And of course, you would wake up to her side of the bed empty - she had an early start to her mornings - yet you can't find it in yourself to mind. Not when theres fresh flowers on your (unofficial) nightstand, with a note signed "i love you," in her perfect script. And fresh muffins on the island, and a smoothie in the fridge. Just because.