I haven't been on tumblr in ages but The Pitt brought me back here. My posts will be plain looking because I don't know how to do the fancy cool stuff.
I write fics, blurbs, prompts, and headcanons (really whatever format)
I would love for people to drop into my ask box and request Pitt Yuri so I can just type feral unhinged shit. Please I beg. (Do I make a separate post saying requests are open? I've seen that several times.)
What I'm working on right now or would love to do
Stuck in the Middle (Garsanshimi) updates
Mellis one shot(s)
Mowalsh one shot(s)
Mcevans one shot(s)
Jemma one shot(s)
Somvadi one shot(s)
All of the above will be in the same currently canon compliant until January 2027 universe. There will be crossover in the main story and then within the one shots (insane orgy occurrence still under review)
Reader insert blurbs and/or full fics to be posted on ao3 and then shared on here. I will write about almost all of them
Just random headcanons of people ask
Topics/Subjects I'll write about as fics/blurbs/HCs
The Pitt and really The Pitt only one here (I have a masc lesbian/nonbinary reader with Agatha/Rio fic on my ao3 but that wouldn't come over here.)
Tooth rotting fluff
Absurdly detailed smut
Devastating angst
Really any Yuri pairing on The Pitt. I know I listed a bunch up above but that is just for that one universe I'm cooking up. I might even favor them but please know I understand the appeal of like every pairing for the women of The Pitt. I will write any pair/set of these women being hot together.
The women of The Pitt being adorable parents
Most common tropes. But ask for the uncommon ones too let me try I beg.
Disability. I HC various characters with varying disabilities. I work within the community and am part of it. If I don't know a lot about a specific disability I will do my research prior to posting so this specifically could take a bit longer.
Heavy on Butch/Stud/Masc/GNC/Nonbinary rep. But if you want something femme I will try my best.
Fat/Plus sized/Husky/Chubby whatever anyone wants to call it rep! I am, so I will write about it.
Subject/Topics I will not cover
Anything with minors. Take that pedo shit elsewhere it's extremely unwelcome here.
Any bigoted shit.
Gratuitous violence and major character death. It's just not really something I'm good at or enjoy.
Rape/Non-con
Hetero or Yaoi. Just not my thing.
I'll gladly write kinky things but am too lazy to really list everything I would so you're getting my list of nos. This is not kink shaming. I might read some from this list but don't write it. (If you request something and don't get answered within a week, it's something I realized I'm not into writing and will add it to the list)
Told myself I wasn't going to post smut this week but @whittkrs sport Emery lives in my head rent free.
Summary: Whether it’s in surgery or on the football pitch or between your legs Emery Walsh knows what she's doing.
Author Note: I'm sorry I couldn't bring myself to use the word soccer but just know when I say football I mean soccer. (side note my most niche desire is Gaelic football player Emery looking yum in an O''Neill's shirt) Also lets all have a moment for competitive, eager Cassie McKay in sportswear. I may have to write something about that.
another rewatch post but it is an absolute insane fact that after sending langdon home, robby (1) went to the bathroom to flush the pills and bury the evidence, then deciding against it. and then (2) tried to give them back to louie which also buries any evidence that langdon stole drugs. he really wanted to protect that man from any harm. all the anger was just because his favourite boy disappointed him; he did not give a fuuuuck about the fact that he stole. there is such a lack of focus in general on how harmful his behaviors were from a medical standpoint and it's mind boggling to me. lorazepam is for anxiety, seizures, sedation, and more. the patients he treated got less lorazepam than they needed and could have suffered severe consequences or even die. and it got covered up. this man faced so little for what he did
because langdon’s drug use was never properly reported, there is so much we do not know.
because robby’s first, and only, instinct was to cover it up, we will never know if patients had negative health outcomes because of him.
patients could have stayed in status epilepticus for prolonged amounts of time due to the dilution. patients could have stayed in manic episodes for much longer than necessary because of the dilution. patients could have had seizures due to him shorting pills. patients could have died because of his diversion.
and we will never know. there was no formal audit, just dana. there was no consequences for any of that. it really fucking pisses me off when people ignore that and brush over it.
90% of my job is working with patients who have had poor outcomes, patients who have experienced and been permanently disabled due to medical malpractice or negligence. it’s not okay that he had no repercussions for this behavior.
he also got no proper help and support in his return to work because of this, but that’s a different conversation.
Maintaining eye contact is something Baran Al-Hashimi prefers - it tells her the person is actively engaged in the conversation, makes it easier for her to clock if someone is lying and... ok, sure, maybe she uses it as an intimidation tactic in the M.D. boys club. After all, it was still a 60/40 split even in 2026.
So when a certain pricklepear of an R2 can't maintain eye contact (she has definitely noted that Trinity's eyes lock on anywhere but her eyes) she aims to correct the issue.
Until she overhears Dr. Santos and Dr. King discussing the similarities between ADHD and Autism, both expressing that eye contact is distracting, exhausting, and incredibly overstimulating.
... or in Dr. Santos' words "the last patient demanded I look her in the eye and I wanted to tear my eyeballs out and put them in a blender with bleach."
I found this half-finished in my drafts from april. I figured I’d finish it quick and post it <3 emotional hurt/comfort, baran comes home tired and drained. this drabble is named after the poem ‘after many springs’ by langston hughes (pictured above on the left).
sometimes she needs a little bit of silence. when the world gets too big and loud and needs her too much, or when she wakes up in the middle of the night with memories flooding in that are best left forgotten. baran needs silence — it is a form of rest, at times more fulfilling than sleep.
you thrive in the silence. when she comes home from work and can barely hold a conversation, you don’t force anything out of her. you coax her into a hot bath and wash her hair and let there be nothing spoken between you that she doesn’t initiate, just a mutual understanding of what is needed and what is given.
baran lets herself be guided for once. she allows you to make her food and she trusts you to stay with her when she lies down in bed and closes her eyes, and you are all too willing to take her into your arms when she rolls over and sets her head on your chest.
the silence ends when she speaks into the darkness. “do you think it will get better?”
you don’t ask what. you figure she is past wanting to give long explanations, whether about work or her seizures or any of the other trials she faces on the daily. “I know it will.”
she seems to sink into you a little bit more. she slides a hand under your shirt to rest on your abdomen just so she can feel you, the warmth of your skin beneath her tired hand, the softness of her palm flat against your body.
the first time she lied down with you like this, with nothing expected from her except to be loved by you, it nearly made her cry. it had been so long since anyone had took her into their arms like that that she had felt suffocated by the comfort in all of the right ways, and she had kept you there for so long that the next morning her back ached from keeping herself locked around you for so long.
“are you okay?” she asks suddenly. she feels bad for not asking about your day earlier, but hers had left her so drained that she could barely stand.
“I’m fine,” you say. you slip a hand into her hair, still slightly damp from the bath, and massage her scalp softly. “really, don’t worry.”
she accepts that. she will ask you for more details in the morning, when the gentleness of the weekend gives her a chance to rest and she can finally think again. “okay.”
“get some rest.”
sometimes she doesn’t sleep well after long shifts. work sticks to her on those days and cases run through her head, what-ifs and regrets. she thinks back on patients she has saved and those she has lost and what she could have done differently had she been more perceptive or better-prepared.
it’s why she used to use those ai models before you made her stop — they made her feel as though something could fill the gaps in her logic, check the validity of her steps before she took them. she has always struggled with trusting herself.
she always trusts you, though. sometimes she thinks she trusts you too much, but you haven’t done anything yet to warrant that trust being revoked. and luckily tonight is one of the nights she feels sleep coming to her more easily, the pull of it growing steadily stronger, and she allows herself to sigh contentedly against you.
suddenly, she remembers. “fuck…”
“what?” you ask. “what’s wrong?”
“I didn’t call him,” she says, sitting up. she reaches over you and picks her phone up off the nightstand, unlocking it and scrolling through her contacts. “I didn’t call my fucking son, and I always call him when he’s at his dad’s before he goes to bed.”
you know that. you always give her space during that nightly ritual, taking your time to clean the dishes while she disappears onto the back porch or into the living room, voice low and soft. you have both become accustomed to the ritual of it, and you’re sure baran’s son has as well.
“I have to do it now,” she says. “fuck, I can’t believe I forgot.”
“wait,” you say, placing a hand on her shoulder that prompts her to look at you, wild-eyed and so tired. “it’s almost midnight, baran. he’s asleep by now.”
“he’s probably so disappointed,” she murmurs. “I only miss calls when I’m sick or—”
“you might as well have been sick tonight,” you interrupt. “you walked in and you looked on the verge of collapse. you aren’t disappointing anyone, and as soon as you get up tomorrow you can call and tell him you weren’t well.”
she looks down at her phone, thumb still hovering over the contact of her ex-husband, and you half expect her to call and demand that he put her son on the phone no matter what.
eventually, she turns her phone off. she hands it over to you and you set it on the bedside table again, then pull her back into your arms and ease her down again.
“get some rest,” you say, and this time she listens.
some fluffy snippets of the lives of trinity santos, yolanda garcia, baran al-hashimi, and their two kids.
there are a few more little snippets i have of them but i am impatient and lazy 🙂↕️. plus i’ve seen a bunch of funny tiktoks that i think these five would embody and i don’t wanna gatekeep the thoughts any longer
the polycule 🥰 @blueeyesshyskies @black-plant-leg @saintfingers
egging on
"do you see this egg?" jahan asks, holding out his hand. in it is a hollowed out eggshell, still completely intact.
alma nods, eyes wide and full of wonder. she reaches out to grab it but jahan yanks his hand away. "wait, look." jahan crushes the eggshell with ease, displaying the remnants to his little sister.
"how did you do that?" she questions, grabbing his hand and peering into it.
jahan adjusts the angle of his phone camera and pulls his hand away. "it’s a fake egg," he says, setting down the eggshells on the table and grabbing another. "here, take this."
he hands the egg over to alma. "okay!" she agrees, taking it into both of her little hands. "what do i do?"
"we are gonna prank maman." he smiles, nodding towards the kitchen where baran is making dinner. "you’re going to go into the kitchen, tell her it’s a real egg, then throw it on the ground."
"okay!"
he stifles a laugh as he follows alma to the kitchen. she’s so gullible, no matter how many times he tricks her she keeps falling for it and believing him. it’s cute but also the perfect fuel for an older brother.
she looks back briefly, smiling widely as jahan gives her an encouraging thumbs up. he hides around the corner, phone and head being the only thing sticking out.
"maman, look!" alma says, holding the egg out in front of her like a prize.
baran turns from where she is chopping something, setting down the knife and kneeling. "and what is that, golam?"
"an egg." she looks as smug as any six year old can, eyes gleaming mischievously. "watch what i can do!"
"and what wo—" baran is cut off by the sound of an egg hitting the ground. not a hollowed out eggshell, a full, real egg. it splatters everywhere, some yolk getting on baran’s slippers, eggshells mixed in.
baran blinks in shock, staring at the mess on the floor. laughter erupts out of jahan, stepping into the doorway and doubling over. he makes sure to keep his phone trained on alma, capturing the look of betrayal on her face.
she looks between jahan and baran, tears welling in her eyes. they quickly spill over and alma is wailing, pointing at jahan to accuse him. "jahan- jahan lied," she cries, whole body shaking. "he said it’s fake." she’s blubbering, snot pouring out of her nose already.
baran looks at jahan, furrowing her brows and pressing her lips into a thin line. he is so fucked, but the video is definitely worth it. he ends the recording and runs out of the room, passing yolanda on the way.
"it’s okay, golam, it’s okay," baran soothes, scooping alma into her arms. "it’s just an egg, right? we can clean it up." she strokes her hair, listening to alma sob about jahan.
yolanda quirks an eyebrow at the sight before her, leaning on the doorframe. baran just shakes her head at her while pressing a kiss into alma’s temple.
—
please be quiet, please
"mama farted!" alma yells, pointing at yolanda.
yolanda halts, grocery cart wheels squeaking with the sudden stop. her eyes fly open and she stares at alma, mouth agape. she had not.
"you farted, mama," alma continues, laughing her head off. "fart, fart, fart, you farted!"
yolanda leans down, holding onto her outstretched hand. "shhh, please be quiet honey," she whispers, trying to ignore the people around them staring. "we’re in a store so you need to use your inside voice."
laughing, alma shakes her head. "faaaaaaaart," she sings, wrestling out of yolanda’s grip. alma runs around the cart and her mama, continuing on about her farting.
yolanda hangs her head in shame, hiding her face in her hands. she can hear adult laughter around her and wants to disappear. alma’s tiny hands grab her arm and shakes it.
"mama, mama, you did a fart. you did a fart!" she says, a new wave of giggles taking over her.
yolanda groans and picks her up, putting her into the seat of the cart. "okay honey, let’s keep shopping."
alma keeps giggling, repeating the word fart over and over until they get into the car with yolanda sporting a beet-red face.
—
AHHHHH
trinity knows she fucked up at 8:21 at night when trying to give alma her bath.
trying being the keyword because every time trinity tries to bring alma into the bathroom, she screams and cries.
maybe, just maybe, showing a five year old jaws was a bad idea.
trinity thought it was a classic, the very basics of horror to the point it barely even counts. it was just a shark attacking people at the beach, and they rarely go to the beach. it should have been fine, it should be fine.
she may have forgotten the water aspect applies to a lot more things. like the bath that she takes every night.
the shark toy in the bath definitely did not help.
"alma, bunso, it’s okay. it’s just a toy, it’s just sharky," she tries, holding up the toy and moving it around playfully.
alma cries harder and buries her face in baran’s leg. baran shakes her head and looks down at trinity’s pleading eyes. she picks her up and alma quickly wraps herself around her maman who bounces her gently, whisper words of comfort into her ear.
"how about this? how about i get in the bath with you?" trinity offers. "no shark will get you if i’m there, right?"
alma calms a little and nods. "okay," she squeaks out.
trinity takes a bath with alma every night for thirteen weeks, only slightly regretting her decision.
—
he’s…. straight?
jahan takes a deep breath, rocking back and forth on his feet. his nerves were obvious, emanating off of him in waves.
the nerves spread through his mothers, all equally worried about what he wants to tell them. baran already has a sneaking suspicion, having caught him smiling like a child at his phone. trinity and yolanda on the other hand, assume the worst. crashed the car, failed a class, got in a fight, something wildly out of character for him.
"um, i was wondering…" he trails off, eyes darting between the three. "can i bring a girl home?"
a warm smile spreads across baran’s face then yolanda’s quickly after, a mix of pride and happiness washing over them. trinity however, tilts her head.
"yeah? why would you not be able to?" trinity asks, raising an eyebrow. the confusion is clear in her voice. he’s had girls over before, half of his friends are girls.
yolanda snickers before baran elbows her in the side. "stop it," she whispers harshly. baran is glaring at her wife who is now holding her hand over her mouth to hold back her laughter.
jahan shakes his head, looking down to the floor. "no, she is— imani is my girlfriend. we want to watch a movie and we have a nice tv."
furrowing her brows, trinity leans forward. "that’s fine, you’ve had girl friends over before. i’m confused."
"nanay," he whines, staring at her with pleading eyes. trinity is usually so sharp, picking up on the subtlest of hints to piece things together. now though, she was missing ever clue even though they barely counted as such. it was spelled out plainly before her and she was reading it with both eyes shut.
"what?" trinity asks, drawing out the word. "it’s true! i’ve never met imani before but i’m sure she’s wonderful."
jahan looks desperately between yolanda and baran, begging them for help. yolanda shakes her head, still stifling laughter, and baran sighs. she scoots closer to trinity and leans into her ear.
"my love," she begins, grasping one of trinity’s hands gently. "what jahan is trying to say is, he wants to bring a girl over for a date." when trinity says nothing, eyes just widening as she blinks slowly, baran continues. "imani is his not his friend who happens to be a girl, she is his girlfriend. they’re a couple."
yolanda has given up on holding back her laughter, letting the sound fill the room as she gives jahan a thumbs up.
trinity doesn’t move, staring straight ahead. jahan has a girlfriend. jahan likes girls. maybe he’s bi, or pan, or omni, or fluid, or, oh god she doesn’t even want to think it. he could be straight.
"jahan," trinity says slowly. she still hasn’t moved, but her grip on baran’s hand has tightened.
"yes, nanay?" his voice shakes, clearly surprised by whatever sort of reaction this was from trinity.
"i need you to know i will love you no matter what, okay?" jahan nods and trinity continues, "are you straight?"
jahan swallows, nodding as he meekly says, "yes."
trinity inhales deeply, ignoring yolanda’s continued laughter and the beginnings of baran’s, holds for four, and exhales. "okay," she squeaks out. "that’s fine. i just—"
she stops, letting go of baran’s hand and standing. "three polyamorous queer moms. three," she whispers, beginning to pace. "where did we go wrong? was it the star wars? yola, was this because of you?" she asks, running her hands through her hair.
yolanda quells her giggles to stand and cup her wife’s face. "baby, cariño, calm down." her amusement at this scenario clear. "as long as he’s safe and happy, that’s all that matters. right?"
nodding, trinity sighs. "i know, i know. but, straight? really?" she asks, sending yolanda back into her fit of laughter and giving baran the final push into hers.
showtime NEEDS to put the l word gen q back in their streaming catalog immediately. sapphic pitt fans deserve to see sepideh moafi properly lezzing out! like hello
Omg omg omg Bette Porter AND Gigi Ghorbani?!?!?! I literally died— Insane.
Gigi’s “you want this?”, Bette’s barely mumbling of a yes, desperately following Gigi to kiss her, followed by Gigi tauntingly retracting and making Bette tell her multiple times how much she wants her— oh dear lord.
What a delightful surprise to have a bunch of people who are also ravenous for age gap yuri on a show where we see no action which means we get to be so unhinged because pretty much anything could be canon compliant if you squint enough.
If you want drop something in my ask box and I'll read some HCs to short stuff. It might turn out long who knows.
