art of medicine.

[pittchief]

dr. isobel marecha is an independent & medium to low activity original character from hbo's the pitt. isobel is the chief operations officer of pittsburgh trauma medical center. created by molly, follows back from @empitthy — rules can be found there.

BIO ⸻ HEADCANONS ⸻ TBA

[pittchief]

one thing is for certain: you've suffered enough. it's time for some peace. ( @robinav1tch )

2012 // quote on pinterest // er (finale) // quote on pinterest // at the gates

[pittchief]

dr. isobel marecha ( during residency )

[pittchief]

isobel is still connected hi <3

[pittchief]

good genes, doctor & miss marecha ♡

[respondsfirst]

golden retrievers. therapy dogs. was her stress that obvious? sucking in a deep breath. "thank you - i'm fit to work." is what she immediately blurts out. that was important for your boss to know. her head was just ... busy. stuck on the most private matter. her and alex's daughter. little luna and her progressive hearing loss. daycare had noticed first. and she hated that. her husband was head of peds and she was a freaking ob-gyn. they should've been the ones to know. tilting her head a bit.

"you're a great boss - the hospital is gonna thrive with dogs around. it'll be great for the kids," great, thoughts and head circulate right back to her kid in daycare. how she's doing? if she's scared? she didn't act different. she wasn't that old, maybe she never quite realized. "... the atrium you say?"

[pittchief]

isobel didn’t blink at the blurting — just held the space with the same steady presence she brought into trauma bays  &  boardrooms alike.  she heard what was said  &  what wasn’t,  the quiet thrum behind the words.  fit to work wasn’t in question.  ❝i believe you, ❞ she said simply.  no challenge.  no pity.  her gaze remained level,  but not unkind.  measured in a way that gave jo the room to breathe,  or not.  ❝we all have our private weather,  wilson.  yours doesn’t make you less capable.  it makes you human. ❞

a pause,  then: ❝ &  yes — the atrium.  they’re gentle.  patient.  they don’t need you to smile or say the right thing.  just show up.  some days,  a warm nose  &  a quiet space is the closest thing we get to grace. ❞ isobel studied her for a beat,  then added,  ❝if you’d rather not go alone,  i’ve got ten minutes.  we don’t have to talk.  just …  breathe near a dog. ❞ she didn’t move away.  she stayed.  waited.  because whatever jo chose next — it mattered that someone didn’t rush her toward it. 

[pittchief]

do you love her?

[goodsirs]

Thandiwe Newton as Maeve Millay in Westworld — 4.01 “The Auguries”

[robinav1tch-a]

there’s not much thought to it— his eyes just happen to jump up at the right time and a sound barks out of him— hup!— as he hauls isobel out of the way. unfortunately, out of the way seems to mean onto the floor as his shoulders take the impact of the wayward ceiling tile and they both go sprawling. robby pitches to the side in an attempt to avoid crushing her, and he thanks his lucky stars that, when he lands awkwardly on his side, it’s his elbow making first contact with the floor, not his knee. a shocked, embarrassed silence falls momentarily over central– an awful low hum that comes when someone (but especially an attending) eats shit in the middle of the er and everyone can't seem to help but stare. but before robby can reflect on it for too long, isobel’s hands are on him.

❝i’m fine, ❞ he croaks, displeased to discover that he seems to have indeed inhaled some of the plaster settling around them. ❝no, no— ❞ he clears his throat, ❝i’m probably gonna be hearing from my back in the morning, but i’m all right. i'm not hurt. ❞ he blinks once, twice, reorients himself so he can look her over. ❝how about you, are you all right? i kinda tossed you on the ground, there. ❞ without thinking, he gently takes her chin, guides her head this way and that to check for any cuts. a soft smile flickers over his lips when she grows stern— he knows it’s all love. 

❝would that be the worst thing? ❞ he grunts a little getting up, and extends isobel a careful hand to help her back onto her feet. bits of debris skitter to the floor as he brushes himself off, his focus still locked on her, eyes roving over her form. ❝let me take you to an exam room, make sure you're all good. ❞

[pittchief]

isobel didn’t stop him when his fingers touched her chin — there was something in the way he did it,  familiar  &  careful,  that kept her still for a breath longer than she meant.  her eyes stayed on his,  steady,  even as he tilted her head this way  &  that like he didn’t already know every angle of her.  when he smiled,  that soft thing that always snuck under her guard,  she exhaled — not quite a laugh,  but something close to it. 

❝i’m fine, ❞ she said,  echoing him,  but quieter.  her hand rose to rest against his chest,  fingers sifting through dust,  checking his collarbone,  lingering like she wasn’t in a rush to pull away.  ❝but you’re not brushing this off,  michael.  you took the damn hit.  i felt it. ❞ her voice was calm,  but beneath it was that clipped tension she only let slip when it was him — when it mattered more than she wanted to admit. 

she was aware — acutely — that they had drawn attention.  half the department had paused,  watching the aftermath of the fall like it might turn into a teaching moment,  or a headline.  but isobel didn’t care.  she stood as he did,  not quite accepting his hand,  but brushing against him deliberately as she rose.  she reached out to flick a stubborn bit of plaster from his shoulder,  slow  &  deliberate,  not caring who saw.  ❝no,  it wouldn’t be the worst thing, ❞ she murmured,  just for him,  eyes scanning the slight tension in his stance.  ❝but if you’re going to throw yourself under falling ceilings for me,  the least you can do is let me make sure you didn’t crack something. ❞

her voice dropped,  still quiet,  still firm.  ❝exam room.  you first.  non-negotiable.  i may not run your department,  but i do run this hospital. ❞ she arched a brow as she took a step toward the hall,  glancing over her shoulder to be sure he followed.  ❝so unless you want me calling a trauma alert on my attending … ❞

[creatreasurebox]

[pittchief]

letterboxd brought me ... a dad? / @robinav1tch

❝four stars, ❞ ziva said,  not looking up as she logged it.  ❝ &  if you rate it lower just to mess with me,  i’m blocking you. ❞ her tone was teasing,  but there was a sharpness to it,  the kind that came from knowing exactly how to make someone laugh while still making her point.  she set her phone down beside her,  leaning back into the couch like she didn’t have a care in the world.  this routine was familiar,  a little sacred:  movie,  silence,  log.  no rush to fill the space with words.  they let the endings sit there,  unfinished in their own way,  until she nudged him into reviewing it.  just the way things went. 

she glanced over at him,  a little more serious now.  ❝i know you come for her,  but you stay for more than that. ❞ the words came out like they were nothing,  but they meant everything.  ❝i see it. ❞ she paused for a moment,  watching his reaction — or maybe she wasn’t.  maybe it didn’t matter.  it was just something she needed to say.  ❝i’ve never really had a dad.  not in the way that counts.  but … you kinda feel like that sometimes. ❞ she said it softly,  but there was no hesitation.  ❝you don’t have to be anything.  i’m not asking you to be,  like … my dad or whatever.  but i notice.  you’re just here,  being here.  it matters. ❞ she finally looked at him,   &  there was a softness in her eyes,  something that held a quiet understanding.  then,  just as quickly,  she turned away again,  eyes gluing back to her phone.  ❝anyway,  don’t forget to log it. ❞

[desafia]

chipped nail polish reflects sunlight, gleaming and glinting as she stares down a tiny smear of charcoal on her pinky. there is a serenity to the day despite all that goes on inside the building. she has no desire to shatter the stillness. so she has remained just outside, watching as ambulances arrive and disappear round the back. she is glad, however, for company. she senses the pair as they approach and her head lifts, something lighter entering her eyes.

a smile curls itself across freckled features as the dog demandingly noses into her palm. she obliges without hesitation. magnolia sits forward and begins to scratch at his ears, smoothing over the coat at the back of his neck with her other hand. talos remains laid out at her feet, barely doing more to acknowledge than other canine than simply quirk his ears. ever a diligent worker. she almost laughs at the contrast of the lazy great dane sun bathing and the eager golden retriever nuzzling into her hands.

❛ they're beautiful, ❜ she manages to pull a hand away long enough to sign. the creature's eyes flick up from where it's head perches in her lap, watching the movement of her hands. it makes her giggle and she immediately pats honey again. she motions for her human friend to join them on the bench.

[pittchief]

isobel caught the movement of mags’s hands with practiced ease,  her eyes never needing a second pass to understand.  she smiled,  a quiet warmth spreading across her face,   &  glanced down at honey,  who was now completely melted into mags’s lap like she'd belonged there her whole life. 

❝you should’ve seen her when they opened the van door, ❞ isobel said,  tone light.  ❝straight down the hallway,  like she had a schedule to keep  &  no time for small talk.  but i think this was the appointment she was meant to make. ❞ she tilted her head slightly,  watching mags’s fingers stroke rhythmically through golden fur.  ❝figured you’d be out here.  i wanted to bring you something that doesn’t fill the air with noise.  just a little peace that walks on four legs. ❞

isobel glanced toward the hospital,  its windows catching the light like watchful eyes,  then back to the stillness they’d carved for themselves in the courtyard.  her voice stayed soft,  barely rising above the hum of the world around them.   ❝ she’s not here to fix or change you.  she’s just here to be.  sometimes that’s more than enough. ❞ her voice dropped a bit,  quieter now.  ❝ &  i wanted you to know — you don’t have to be inside to be seen.  i see you. ❞ she reached down to pat honey once,  then leaned back,  letting the silence return,  but not empty — settled,  full of presence. 

[robinav1tch-a]

he could live in this moment forever. the gentle way the sounds outside carry into the bedroom, the sunlight soft where it dapples the bedsheets, the floor. safety. peace. he just watches her, lets himself soak in the slow drag of her fingertips, the warmth of her body caged loosely between his arms. he lets out a scoff at the accusation, quiet, faintly indignant. ❝i don't think i always talk like that. though i don't know how you could blame me if i did. ❞ robby ducks his head down to kiss her again, slow and sweet. ❝i'm a pretty big fan of the in between, myself. ❞

he smooths his thumbs along the dip in her waist, hands resting lightly on her hips. she touches her forehead to his and his eyes slip shut almost unconsciously. all she has to do is touch him and he's lulled into a little sliver of serenity. isobel has a way of just... silencing the noise. ❝i'll go wherever you go, ❞ he says, soft like a confession. michael is too lost in her to be startled at the vulnerability as it lips past his lips– or maybe this is what it feels like to feel safe enough to open up.

[pittchief]

she felt it before she answered it — the way his words settled between them,  not like a promise but a truth he hadn’t realized he was carrying.  his voice was soft,  but not uncertain.  no posturing,  no bravado.  just robby,  stripped of everything but what was real.  she watched him through half-lidded eyes,  still drowsy with warmth  &  morning,  her body folded into the space between his arms like it had always known how to fit there.  the sunlight caught in his lashes,  his mouth still soft from the kiss.  god,  he always looked a little younger like this.  not foolish.  just …  open. 

❝you say that like you think i’ll ever stop moving, ❞ she said,  her voice low,  lips just brushing the curve of his cheek.  her hand slid up beneath his shirt,  not urgent,  just familiar — mapping the landscape of him with a kind of reverence.  ❝i won’t.  i never really have,  not even after ziva was born.  ❞ the words were honest,  but not sharp.  there was no defense in them.  just truth,  shared between the spaces where their breath mingled.  ❝but i’ve never had to look back to see if you were still there. ❞

the thought pressed quiet into her chest — not like orpheus,  who turned around because he couldn’t bear to trust what he loved without proof. she leaned in  &  kissed him again,  slow  &  certain,  a kiss that said i see you.  i trust you.  i want this.  ❝i don’t look back.  i just keep choosing forward. ❞  &  in that moment,  wrapped in the hush of june  &  the weight of him,  forward had never felt so much like home. 

[ellies-enrichment]

[pittchief]

mamma mia plot but isobel is donna, & really it's just a reason for me to write fun threads

[pittchief]

puppy as promised / @robinav1tch

isobel approached from the side,  her pace unhurried,  one arm cradling a downy golden puppy that squirmed gently against her chest.  robby didn’t look up at first — he was locked in that particular kind of concentration he wore like armor — but she didn’t wait for permission.  she stepped in close,   &  without a word,  placed the warm bundle into his arms.  the puppy let out a small grunt of protest before settling,  nose pressing sleepily to robby’s collar.  isobel watched him adjust instinctively,  arms tightening around the dog like muscle memory.  ❝hold this, ❞ she said,  voice dry,  but fond. 

❝we’ve got a few of the future therapy dogs in today,  early socialization run, ❞ she continued,  eyes scanning his face for that subtle flicker of unguarded joy she knew he wouldn’t admit to.  ❝figured the hospital could use the company.  so could you. ❞ she reached out,  briefly brushing her fingers over the pup’s soft fur.  ❝you’ve got twenty minutes until your meeting.  go see the rest of them — let something lick your face that isn’t responsibility. ❞ her mouth curled just slightly.  ❝besides,  i wanted to see if you’d melt or short-circuit.  jury’s still out. ❞

[pittchief]

honey for mags / @desafia

isobel crossed the courtyard with slow,  intentional steps,  the leash loose in her hand as honey — the golden retriever — trotted alongside her with ears perked  &  tail in steady motion.  the morning was warm,   &  the hush of the hospital felt distant out here among the trees  &  brick paths.  she spotted mags on the bench near the fountain,  a quiet figure folded into herself just enough to make isobel's chest ache.  the bond between them had formed in pieces,  quiet exchanges  &  shared silences.  now,  isobel didn’t ask questions mags hadn’t already answered.  she simply brought the dog forward,  let honey take the lead. 

❝this one’s a professional, ❞ she said gently,  her voice almost lighter than the air.  ❝certified in unconditional affection  &  silent understanding. ❞ honey moved in close,  nudging her way under mags’s hand with an ease that didn’t ask for permission.  isobel watched for a moment,  then sank into the quiet beside them.

 ❝we’ve got a few more inside,  just for a couple days for now.  figured the hospital could use a little soulfulness that doesn’t come from a white coat. ❞ her gaze stayed on honey’s head resting now in mags’s lap.  ❝you don’t have to do anything special.  just … let yourself enjoy it.  that’s allowed too. ❞