i l o v e my life.
indie rp blog for dr. samira mohan from hbo's the pitt heavily headcanon based loved by katie - she/her - 30+ - est - side-blog to @agntwells
rules | verses | memes | wishlist
Monterey Bay Aquarium
ojovivo
KIROKAZE
almost home
No title available
Misplaced Lens Cap

titsay

izzy's playlists!
Cosmic Funnies
No title available
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Mike Driver
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

★
sheepfilms

⁂

Kaledo Art

Janaina Medeiros
No title available

seen from Türkiye

seen from Türkiye
seen from Brazil

seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Indonesia

seen from France
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from Brunei

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Rwanda
@slowmo-md
i l o v e my life.
indie rp blog for dr. samira mohan from hbo's the pitt heavily headcanon based loved by katie - she/her - 30+ - est - side-blog to @agntwells
rules | verses | memes | wishlist
Samira: Ah, yes, my train of thought. Samira: Or, as I like to call it, the anxiety express.
@slowmo-md gets a plotted starter
A month into the transfer, and Jack has somehow become everybody's favorite resident. The nurses wave him over when they need a hand. Consultants take his calls without immediately sounding annoyed. Patients leave their rooms smiling even when he's delivering bad news. He's always been good with people—good at making conversations feel easy, good at putting others at ease. Most days, he can talk to just about anyone without thinking twice about it.
Samira Mohan is apparently the exception. Not because she intimidates him. At least, that's what he tells himself.
The department has finally settled into one of those rare lulls between disasters when Jack spots her across the nurses' station. He's supposed to be finishing his notes. Instead, he finds himself heading in her direction with a coffee in hand and a chart tucked under his arm as a half-hearted excuse.
"You know," he says as he reaches the desk, leaning one hip against the counter, "I've been here a month now, and I'm starting to think I've been lied to."
A faint smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.
"Everybody keeps talking about this mysterious thing called a life outside the hospital." He gestures vaguely with his coffee. "I've seen evidence that most of the staff possesses one. Friends. Hobbies. Apartments. Some of them even claim to sleep." His gaze settles on her for a moment.
"I haven't found any proof that applies to you yet." The smile lingers, easy and warm rather than challenging.
"Which is a shame," he adds. "Because at this point you've become kind of a mystery, and it's starting to bother me."
One of the things she still truly enjoys about her job is the teaching aspect of it -- Samira loves almost everything about her job, sure, and there are always less savory aspects to any field of work. Though it feels like being a doctor in an emergency department tends to have more than its fair share of… less savory aspects, especially the night shifts. But being able to teach, seeing the med students learn and the residents flourish is something she will probably always love.
She tries desperately to not have favorites, too, but Jack Abbot is making it very difficult to continue that pattern.
Newly transferred and in his third year of residency, it’s only been a month and everyone loves him. He’s charming, funny, and with a bedside manner that could surpass some attendings she knows. She also tries desperately not to think about how the way his eyes light up when he laughs or his freckles --
There’s a crashing noise that pulls her from her thoughts, head turning in the direction of the sound only to catch that one of the newer med students had tripped and toppled some supplies from the top of a cart. He looks sheepish and apologetic, but Samira just smiles and nods once, watching as he kneels to start picking up what’s fallen before she turns her head back to the board. She can see Jack from her periphery, and though she knows he has charting and notes to catch up on, something in her flutters when she notices he’s walking towards her.
Nope. Nopenopenope, she chastises herself. Inappropriate… HR would have a field day…
She stares at the board even as he sidles up beside where she’s standing at the central nurses’ station, trying to look unaffected before he suggests having been lied to, which makes her look over at him with an arched brow.
He’s smiling. Teasing her -- you shit, she thinks, trying to keep her own smile at bay as he starts mentioning others having a life. Of course. Notorious workaholic Dr. Samira Mohan, married to her job, the reason she’s not sporting any kind of ring or family or life outside the Pitt -- she’s heard people talk, but she doesn’t let it bother her. Or at least, she tries not to let it bother her. Turns out trying is just as lonely.
“Mm.” Samira hums, glancing back at the board that hasn’t changed in the last ten minutes, before turning her attention fully toward Jack again. “Well, contrary to popular belief, I do at least have an apartment, and I do sleep. Occasionally. When my cat isn’t yelling at me the second I walk in the door.” She says, a smirk of her own tugging at her lips finally before she pulls her phone from her back pocket, tapping the screen to show off the picture of her calico.
A brow arches again as she tucks her phone back into her pocket. “Afraid it’s going to be quite the Wizard of Oz type disappointment when you peel back the curtain, Dr. Abbot. Not much mystery here -- just a woman with a cat.” She says, deciding to take advantage of the momentary lull. “But if it helps solve anything, I’ll allow two questions -- be careful, though. I don’t like the question, I make sure you get assigned the next bowl obstruction that comes in.” Samira threatens, smirking still.
THE PITT 1.01 | "7:00 AM" (2025 -)
✦ ⋆ 𖤓 ⋆ ✦ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄 ··· a collection of injuries tended in silence, pain worn like armour, the intimacy of being seen at your worst. genre: hurt and comfort, angst, romance, drama.
• You're bleeding through your shirt. Don't tell me you're fine. • How long have you been walking around like this? • I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to see how bad it is. • You should have told me the moment it happened. • Hold still. I mean it. Hold still. • This is going to sting. Bite down on something if you need to. • You've been hiding this for days, haven't you. • Who did this to you? I need you to tell me who did this. • Stop being brave for five minutes and let me help you. • I've seen worse. I've also seen men die from worse, so let me look at it. • I found the bandages in the trash. You want to explain that? • Don't you dare apologize for bleeding on me. • Your hands are cold. That's not a good sign. • I'm not angry. I'm terrified. There's a difference. • Come into the light. Let me see your face. • You should have stitches. I know you won't go. So sit down and let me do what I can. • You're white as a sheet and still trying to stand up straight. • I could hear you in the night. I didn't say anything. I'm saying something now. • Don't look at it if it makes it worse. Just look at me. • It's not weak to let someone see you hurt. • You came to me. Of all the places you could have gone, you came here. • Lay back. You're not getting up until the color comes back to your face. • I'm not going to ask what happened. Not yet. First let me fix what I can. • You've been holding your left side since you walked in. Think I didn't notice? • This is going to leave a mark. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. • I've patched up a lot of people in my time. None of them scared me like you do right now. • You could have died out there. You could have died and I would have been the last person to know. • Sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere. • You're allowed to make a sound. Nobody's watching. • I need you to stay awake for me. Just a little longer. Talk to me. • You're lucky the cut wasn't deeper. • Stop apologizing for needing help. Stop it right now. • I've seen what it looks like when someone's used to this. That's what scares me most about you. • Tell me your name. Tell me what day it is. Stay with me. • You're going to be alright. I promise you. • You went back out there after this? With this? • Nobody takes care of you, do they? That ends tonight. • I've been gentle with you. I need you to be honest with me in return. • You're safe now. You're here, you're safe, and I've got you. Just breathe.
*makes a smart character* *realizes im the one who has to make them smart*
♡ SUPRIYA GANESH entertainment tonight
probably my favorite thing about mohan’s character is that she is SO empathetic but she is still a deeply data driven person. so frequently the bleeding heart character is stereotyped as more intuitive-emotional than logical-analytical, and their worldview is therefore implied to be a consequence of naivety—or, failing that, wishful thinking. for a character to be so explicitly compassionate and also explicitly logical pushes that in the other direction and says yeah, empathy is actually a logical choice. compassion is not blind but backed by empirical data. “feelers” are not to “optimists” as “thinkers” are not to “cynics”.
samira mohan the character you are…
"it's just stress" oh thank god, it's just the silent killer that slowly kills you, perfectly harmless, no need to worry
✱˚。⋆ ↪ 𝐀 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐒 . ( a collection of action prompts. feel free to reverse roles as desired. this prompt will be updated. )
[ REDWOOD ] sender lashes out at receiver when it isn't their fault.
[ WILLOW ] sender embraces receiver in a moment of extreme distress.
[ PINE ] sender fervently resists receiver's attempts to comfort / care for them.
[ BIRCH ] sender finally ends a tense argument by reaching out to apologize.
[ POPLAR ] sender mentors receiver through learning a new skill.
[ PALM ] sender and receiver avoid / ignore the stresses of real life together.
[ ELM ] sender lends receiver aid in a time of urgent need.
[ MAGNOLIA ] sender, believed to be dead, arrives at receiver's door.
[ DOGWOOD ] sender gifts receiver a token of good luck / protection.
[ MULBERRY ] sender and receiver take a long walk through nature together.
[ HAZELNUT ] sender begrudgingly patches up receiver's wounds.
[ CAMPHOR ] sender suddenly pushes receiver out of danger's path.
[ CASHEW ] when they're finally alone, sender invites receiver to dance.
[ LAVENDER ] sender lays their head in receiver's lap and closes their eyes.
[ BEECH ] it comes to light that sender has betrayed receiver.
[ HIBISCUS ] sender invites receiver to go traveling with them.
[ HICKORY ] sender pushes receiver to admit that they need them.
[ MAPLE ] sender shakes receiver's shoulders, begging them to wake up.
[ CHERRY BLOSSOM ] sender revels in receiver's beauty, stunned.
[ JOSHUA ] sender offers receiver a safe place to hide / crash .
[ ASH ] sender and receiver become reacquainted after many years.
[ FIG ] sender, knowing receiver is hungry, pressures them to eat.
[ YEW ] sender beckons for receiver to join them in the water.
[ CYPRESS ] sender shamelessly flirts with receiver.
[ LINDEN ] sender cares for receiver, who took a hit to protect them.
(princess)^2
Dr. Samira Mohan & Dr. Melissa King in THE PITT (2025- )
Silence settles for a moment while she talks, his gaze fixed out over the city instead of immediately looking at her. It keeps the moment from feeling cornered somehow. Less like interrogation, more like sitting beside somebody while they bleed a little without making them explain the wound before they’re ready.
The worst day I’ve ever had.
Something in his expression shifts at that, subtle but immediate. Understanding, maybe. Recognition.
“Yeah,” Jack says quietly after a moment, voice roughened by exhaustion and something older sitting underneath it. “Those happen.” His jaw tightens faintly before easing again as he glances over toward her properly this time. “And they make you think stupid shit.” The corner of his mouth twitches without humor. “Like one bad shift suddenly erased every good thing you’ve ever done here.”
He leans back lightly against the ledge then, shoulders settling for the first time since he came upstairs. “You know what I think?” Jack asks, calmer now, steadier. “I think if you didn’t belong here, you wouldn’t be wrecked over it.” His eyes hold on her a second longer. “The people who scare me are the ones who have catastrophic days and sleep just fine afterward.”
A quieter breath leaves him before he looks back out toward the skyline again. “And for what it’s worth,” he adds, softer now, “I’ve had shifts that made me sit in my car for an hour afterward trying to figure out if I should come back the next day.” His mouth pulls slightly at one corner. “Still here, unfortunately.”
She’s wallowing. Throwing herself a little pity-party, Samira knows it’s exactly what she’s doing -- exactly what her mother would have hated. Even though she’s cleaned up after her mother’s own fucking wallowing when men inevitably leave because she’s impossible to please--
Eyes squeeze closed and another heavy sigh escapes as she listens to Dr. Abbot, shoving all thoughts of her mother aside -- because apparently she stopped thinking about me when she decided to go on a cruise around the world, the thought is bitter and angry and makes her feel guilty again. Twisting her stomach into knots before Abbot asks her you know what I think? Curiosity makes her look over at him even though she knows there’s an annoying shine of tears in her eyes, ones that just will not go away no matter how much she wants them to.
If you didn’t belong here, you wouldn’t be wrecked over it, he says, and it hits her that this was what she had needed earlier, when she had said to Robby that maybe she didn’t belong. A scoff escapes and she looks down at her hands again. “No way am I going to be getting much sleep tonight.” She mutters quietly, picking at her thumbnail as a fresh wave of exhaustion and defeat sweeps over her, but it is still kind of reassuring to know that he’s had days like today and is still around.
“Did you ever have a panic attack on the clock in triage and think you were having a heart attack, only to get carted back in a wheelchair by a med student, and then be told by your attending that it’s your mommy issues and that you’re a liability?” She asks before a lump lodges in her throat and she shakes her head, glancing back out at the city, listening to the cars pass by, horns honking distantly somewhere. Samira tries not to think of her father, of how she thought earlier this is how I’m gonna die, just like he did, how that had made her panic worse.
She presses her right thumb into her left palm. “Sorry, I don’t mean to word vomit or... or speak ill of Robby, I just…” Samira sighs quietly. “He called me a liability and then someone died because I missed a triple-a. It’s like he fucking called it.” Her voice wobbles the last few words, teeth catching the inside of her cheek as she turns her head away from Abbot, knowing that her one bad day couldn’t hold a candle to the shit he’s dealt with. And yeah, she knows she’ll pick herself up from this, but right now she can’t help but feel everything.
. and i'm still a believer but i don't know w h y
indie & selective rp blog for dr. samira mohan from the pitt loved by katie | rules | side blog to @agntwells
@slowmo-md liked for a starter
Jack stands in the kitchen with flour dusted across the front of his black t-shirt and one forearm, focused intently on sliding the pizza peel beneath the margherita like the process requires surgical precision. The apartment smells like fresh basil, garlic, and blistering dough, warm enough now from the oven that the windows have started fogging faintly around the edges. Music hums quietly from his phone on the counter while he works, shoulders finally loose for what might be the first time all week.
“You laugh at my technique and you’re not getting any,” he warns dryly the second he catches Samira watching him from the doorway. There’s no real threat behind it though, especially not when the corner of his mouth immediately twitches upward afterward. He glances over briefly, eyes softer than the teasing tone suggests. “And before you say it—yes, making the dough from scratch was necessary.” A beat passes. “Store bought dough tastes like disappointment.”
The smell of something delicious surrounds her the moment Samira steps into Jack’s apartment and closes the door behind her. “Hi, I’m here!” She says as she nudges her shoes off by the door, wine bottle in hand even though he’d said she didn’t need to bring anything -- showing up empty handed still feels rude even though it’s Jack. If he’s going to cook for her, she’s going to bring something. A soft hum leaves her lips as she follows the smells wafting from the kitchen.
It smells amazing.
Samira’s gaze quickly falls on Jack as she steps into the kitchen, leaning against the doorway as she lets herself admire for a moment. That is, until she’s caught staring, and she can feel the heat creep up her neck, skin warming. “I wouldn’t dare laugh at your technique or your insistence on fresh dough. I’ve never made a pizza that wasn’t frozen in a box -- don’t judge me.” Samira quickly points the index finger of her free hand at him with a small smile. “Med school is expensive, and grants don’t cover everything… frozen pizzas had to do. I brought wine, by the way. I know you said not to worry about anything, but it feels rude to show up empty handed when you’re going out of your way to cook for me.”
If Samira put in an order, there was a reason. I trust her. Maybe you should too.
THE PITT 1.07 | 2.11
|| things katie needs to do (aka my 'girl get ur shit together' list -.-)
finish my promo
come up with verse tags
update my pinned post
add more headcanons
post an open starter
@pittresilience