6 months ago I left shiftblr and said I would be lurking around which ended up being a lie SORRY 😰!!!!!! But Ive been getting more into 60s pop culture and needless to say every time Jane and Peter Asher appear I think of you and John ☺️
Sometimes I feel bad for leaving LMAO we twelve 60s shifters need to stick together
-🥀
omg HI!!!!!! so good to hear from you! I've been pretty MIA myself honestly, from shifting as a whole. I think I'm getting close to a comeback though because I miss my boys. actually it's so funny that you mention jane & her brother because there's this picture of them that uncannily looks like john and I when you squint a little.
it's so wild to see 😭😭😭 if I ever need a reference for my dr, there it is!
do you think you'd enjoy the swinging 60s more than the 70s in your beatles dr? 🧘🏻♀️
honestly I'm more of a 70s girl, which might come as a surprise. the fashion, the hair, the music, the movies—are all much more my vibe. also, just, around that time in my dr everything would be much tamer in every way possible. I'm stepping back from the limelight and instead focusing on supporting george. I'm not really doing interviews or dealing with the press, only fans when they recognize me in the street and want me to sign some things. I'm an aunt two times over at that point, I'm just focusing on my family. it'll be a breath of fresh air for me. so, in every sense, it's the 70s!!!
i hate regulus black so much and I hate that if I want to read a fic from james' pov, he's always the love interest. i also hate how obvious it is that he's the writer's favorite character because Somehow he's always the victim
I do think I really want a dr where I'm a younger teenager because I never actually got to experience highschool and was very sheltered growing up (homeschooled) but on the other hand, it does feel strange to know that I would like... mentally regress when I shift there 😭
calling all lesbians!!!!! do you think it was helpful for you in accepting your sexuality to only shift for women? I've been considering it, but I'm still undecided. I do think it's made me doubt myself a lot more than I had been before I got back into shifting. I'm just so attached to my current s/o's, but I'm not sure that shifting for them is healthy for me.
" Welcome to the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, most commonly referred to as: the Pitt. "
"Ha! You get it? Like the pits of hell—"
"Yeah, we get it."
Accessing Dr. Mercer's file ...
Full name: Erin Isabela Mercer
Date of Birth: June 20, 2000
Sex: Female
Height: 5'6
Education: UPenn, Perelman
Status: Resident (R1)
History (Confidential)
Erin Mercer was born and raised in a small suburban town just outside of Pittsburgh. Her father, Matthew Mercer, was (and still remains) an extremely accomplished surgeon at Westbridge that fell in love with his charge nurse, Alexia Danton. Two years after their wedding, at 36 and 29, they welcomed a newborn daughter into the world. Erin had a fairly privileged upbringing, regarding class. Her childhood home was a two-story house with a white fence around the yard and a carefully maintained garden in the back. Erin’s mother quit her job as a nurse shortly after the birth of her daughter, unwilling to have a Nanny raise her child and miss key moment's in her life. At 11 years old, on a trip back from the grocery store while Erin was in school, Alexia Danton was involved in a collision with a drunk driver. She was taken to Westbridge, where Matthew still worked as a surgeon and where they met all those years ago. Erin was picked up early from school by a work friend of her father's. Matthew was forced to operate not only on his wife, but the man who had hit her. Alexia never woke up and flatlined shortly after surgery; they were unable to resuscitate. Erin watched the doctors flurry around the room as she stood just by the bed in horror, quickly being pulled out of the room by another nurse. The drunk driver himself lived. It was that day that something began to spark within young Erin Mercer. That was the first time she had ever wanted to be a doctor, if only because it meant she might've saved her mother. As for Matthew, he hadn't been the most present within her life even prior to the accident, he was simply too busy—but he had always shown up for her at the end of the day; had dinners where they engaged in conversation, tucked her in at night. After the loss of Alexia, she rarely saw him. When she did, they barely spoke—certainly not about what had happened. He hired a Nanny to look after her while he was at work up until she was 15. Both father and daughter retreated into themselves as a response to the grief—though Erin was mourning two losses. As a method of bridging the gap between her father and herself and a response to that fleeting bitterness she'd felt at 11 years old, she became interested in the medical field. At 16, she started volunteering at Westbridge, which she later found to be a mistake. Her peers and superiors alike had little respect for her own abilities and teased her about her familial connection to the top surgeon. Her ambitions were never taken seriously and she was merely viewed as a child mimicking her father. In truth, that may be one reason she took notice of the profession, but it quickly became her own passion. That's when she swore to herself that she'd never work at another hospital with a connection to her father—which led her to PTMC, one of the only hospitals in Pittsburgh whose residency program didn't require a rotation at Westbridge.
Demeanor
Erin has a desperate need to be taken seriously and she's been confronted with the fact that she will have to work harder for it than most because of her father’s history in the medical field. She can perhaps overcompensate because of that. There is no one more devoted to their job than Dr. Mercer. She's been dubbed a walking, talking textbook due to her uncanny recitations. Some might call her a workaholic, too serious, too clinical. She struggles with less conventional methods of treatment and isn't prone to thinking outside of the box, unwilling to take risks or defy the textbook. She isn't arrogant, but she is intimidatingly confident in her abilities as a doctor, almost never displaying any signs of nerves. She isn't one to slack off or engage in distractions, thus she isn't very quick to make friends—though she finds no issue with this and would simply rather focus on the task at hand. When approached, however, she is never unkind, just distant—but polite. She can be snarky, harshly blunt, or passive aggressive when she feels judgement is warranted, but never without reasonable cause. She's quiet and methodical. Oftentimes she can seem too unemotional, for a number of reasons; her face reveals nothing, the most notable movement usually is only a softening of the eyes, she refuses to give false hope to her patients, unlike most other doctor's, and she offers only honesty and reliability as a comfort, nothing emotional. In spite of what you may see on the surface level, Dr. Mercer cares deeply for her every patient. It is a concentrated effort to keep her distance and her face impassive. After a loss, oftentimes she can be found slipping into the restroom to release her tears and frustration away from prying eyes. In fact, if you pay close enough attention, you might notice her true emotions slipping through the surface just before she quickly forces them behind a face of neutrality. Or maybe you will see the delicacy and gentleness with which she handles her patients, a thoughtfulness only a person who cares could display. Or her strong sense of justice, of right from wrong. It's a shocking thing for a doctor so typically by the book—to be willing to break the rules for the right cause. She always says that, ultimately, her responsibility is to her patients and she will always prioritize what is best for them because that's what it truly means to be a doctor. There is also her remarkable softness with children, her true achilles heel—that seem to unlock all the tenderness that she does her best to keep hidden. What may further seem to shock you about the intern is her dry sarcasm, which seems to be a delight to her coworker's—such a stern, serious woman is capable of being funny, it's a beautiful thing.
Erin is completely easygoing when off the clock, almost unrestrained. There remains an air of nonchalance and responsibility, but it's much less severe. She's more approachable. Her sarcasm is in tact, along with the most shocking after work trait: her penchant for mischief. Her smile, mostly unseen while on the clock, shows itself—a soft, teasing thing. She proves that she is, in fact, capable of having fun. With limits, of course. Still quiet in demeanor, but with a willingness to engage in conversation. She's less put-together, less self-assured. The confidence she has in her capabilities doesn't seem to extend to other areas of her life, she becomes humble.
Relationships
Dr. Frank Langdon (R4)
frequently bought together, do not separate
From the moment Langdon set his eyes on the new resident, he was deeply fascinated with her. Mercer was terminally focused, unshakable, which presented him with a much needed challenge: make the newbie lighten up. Langdon seemed to be constantly peering over her shoulder, instructing her. She didn't mind the direction, but what began to disturb her peace was the distraction. The incessant questions when they caught a free moment, his terrible jokes that never landed, perhaps most of all—the baffling kindness he freely gave. Mercer curtly answered his questions in ways that only left him with more, barely reacted to his jokes; a huff at most ! This, however, only served to embolden him further. That's when he began to notice. The peaks into who Erin Mercer truly was beneath the stiff formalities. When he saw her gentleness, how above and beyond she went for each patient—that's when something began to bloom inside of him, something dangerous. The resident, for her part, was utterly perplexed with his attention. She had grown used to flitting around, unnoticed and undisturbed. No one had ever bothered to peer past the surface, but Langdon was ridiculously persistent. Mercer wasn't very at ease with the way he made her feel; the lump in her throat, the clammy hands, the butterflies from hell in the depths of her stomach. Indeed, before long, they had become two peas in a pod. The first time Mercer returned his playfulness, Langdon shimmied in place like a dog wagging it's tail. "That was a joke." He had confirmed after being met with another deadpan stare. "You know that if you have to announce that you're joking, it probably wasn't funny, right?" She had replied with a sarcastic lilt to her voice that he'd never heard before. He is so doomed.
just a glimpse...
Mercer exhaled softly, straightening her posture into one of focus as she searched the board for her next patient—hands clasped behind her back, chin up.
“Tired?” Langdon slid in next to her, forearms bracing himself on the front desk as he tilted his head towards her.
She spared him a glance, eyes softening ever so slightly before returning to the board. “It's been a long day.”
Mercer hadn't been able to take her mind off of the young drowning victim they'd lost around an hour ago. Everyone had been in a funk since, even her—when she was usually so good at keeping herself distracted.
Langdon seemed to pick up the slight melancholy in her tone, his eyes scanning her over with concern. He opened his mouth to give reassurance, but no sound came out before he was abruptly interrupted.
Santos marched up next to them, searching the board herself. She glanced over at her fellow intern, a furrow in her brows. “Chatterbox. Wasn't aware you experienced fatigue.”
Mercer’s eyebrow twitched slightly, her frown deepening. She seemed to be preparing herself to give Santos yet another reminder of her personhood.
“That's enough, Santos.” Langdon pushed himself up, palms flat on the desk now. His voice was hard in a way Mercer had never heard before, she hardly thought him capable of it.
Mercer turned to look at him then, truly look at him. Her lips were parted as if surprised at his intervention. Something flickered in her eyes, a conflicting array of emotions. Confusion, gratitude, doubt—all in quick succession, like she were trying to solve something difficult. Her lips lifted into something pleased, just a fraction, hardly even there. Then all of it disappeared in an instant to be hidden behind that mask of indifference. Langdon caught it all regardless.
She spared Santos another glance, or maybe a long suffering glare would be more accurate. At that, Santos scoffed, throwing her hands up in surrender as she walked past them.
Mercer shook her head softly, paired with a roll of her eyes.
“Hey.”
“Yes?” She didn't look at him, eyes scanning the screen of patient names before her.
A warm hand squeezed her shoulder, causing her to whip her head around.
“Look alive. I've got a case for you, Scully.” He tipped his head back to gesture at the room, before slipping away for her to follow.
She stayed rooted in her spot for a few seconds, hand absentmindedly rubbing at her shoulder where the warmth lingered. Then, just like before, it was gone with a blink. She straightened, taking wide strides to catch up with the man who had simply expected her to follow, still tingling from the contact.
To his credit, he began to slow his pace once he picked up the sound of her footsteps, turning his head to look at her as she fell into place beside him.
“You shouldn't speak for me like that. You know it'll only make it worse, right?”
“Yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't—”
“But… thank you, regardless.” Mercer swallowed, eyes facing forward even as she felt Langdon peering over at her. Her voice carried a warmth that she'd never directed at him before.
His next words were breathless and weak, “No problem.”
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