dazzlingsuns

[dazzlingsuns]

The Pitt Ask Game

I want people to send me questions about The Pitt, so here’s an ask game with general questions.

Who is your favorite character?

Who is your least favorite character?

Who is your favorite recurring or minor character (i.e., not in the main cast)?

Which episode is your favorite?

Which episode is your least favorite?

Which patient/case is your favorite?

What is your overall favorite scene?

Which scene was the one that had the most emotional impact for you?

Which scene is the funniest to you?

Which character dynamic is your favorite?

Which character dynamic do you want to see more of?

Which doctor would you want to handle your care if you were in the ER?

Which nurse would you want to handle your care if you were in the ER?

If you worked at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, which department would you work for?

Would you rather work day shift or night shift?

Which character do you want to see the most in season 2?

Do you have any have any favorite ships? Which ones?

Do you have any crackships or rarepairs? Which ones?

Which friendship is your favorite?

Tell me your thoughts on [insert character A] and [insert character B]!

What are some of your headcanons for [insert character]?

If you were working on a patient, which doctors or nurses would you want to work with?

You somehow found yourself in the Pitt. What is the most likely (silly) medical reason, and would it happen during the day or night shift?

What storyline do you most want to see in the next season?

After a shift, how would you decompress?

[dazzlingsuns]

Here she is Mohabbot Nation! Lots of Samira character study and slowish burn Mohabbot for those who enjoy that :D

Enough (for the Wise) (9.1k, rated T) - One year out from Pittfest, Samira looks at her life and it’s not what she wants. A character study.

[dazzlingsuns]

samira mohan, the pitt

[dazzlingsuns]

Couldn't get the Mohabbot News Anchors AU out of my head so here's something to chew on: Coming to You Live (1.5k)

[dazzlingsuns]

the people yearn for you on twitter

OKAY OKAY I'll make an account:

https://x.com/dazzlingsunss

[dazzlingsuns]

14. Fries + Mohabbot! ♥️

Hi friend!! Thank you for the prompt!! <3 Hope you enjoy!

14 - fries

Samira's always been an assured sort of person. She knew from a very young age what she liked, hated, tolerated, and loved. It was easy for her in that way-- neat categories for thoughts and feelings and opinions, even when life landed her in the gray.

Back pressed up against a bright red cushioned booth, it goes a bit like this: she likes pancakes, hates scrambled eggs, tolerates ketchup, and loves french fries.

"Remember how I said no amount of fries could survive me?" she says with a grin as the steaming pile of fries is placed between them.

He smiles, devilish, knowing.

"All yours, Dr. Mohan."

"There are worse Achilles' heels," she rationalizes, salt and potato searing her tongue. She doesn't care. She likes the burn.

"Yeah?" he says, amused as he watches her.

"My mom's is chocolate cake," she says, "My mausi's is designer shoes."

"And yours is french fries," Abbot supplies.

"Exactly," Samira replies. "So, what's yours?"

"My Achilles'?" he says, the words rolling over his tongue. From the smile playing at his lips, she knows he's mulling over another missing leg joke but he keeps it to himself. Mostly, she just appreciates him humoring her latest inquiry.

The truth is Samira likes asking him these questions, the kinds no one else does. And the thing is, no one really asks her these questions either. She doesn't go on dates or have friends or pour into people the way she knows she probably should. She's only got so much bandwidth, after all.

But she's trying. She gets breakfast with her 40-something-year old attending when he asks and tries to talk to him about something other than medicine (though they often fail). They don't have a set schedule, but if their shifts don't cross paths for a while, he'll shoot her a 'bkf?' text and if she's not working, she'll shoot back a thumbs up emoji. He always picks up the check and it's gone on long enough that she's stopped faux fighting him for the bill.

"I like fishing, I guess. It's quiet, gets me out of the house."

"That's a hobby. Not a weakness," Samira purses her lips, displeased. "Try again, Abbot. Your Achilles' can't be something you like, it has to be something you love."

He shakes his head, like he knows some secret she'll never be privy to. "I love our job," he finally settles on, "So maybe that's my weakness-- talk about a toxic relationship, if I've ever been in one."

"Yeah," she chuckles softly, because, well, "Yeah."

"What else you got, Mohan? French fries and..."

"I love pens," she says, like it's some sort of revelation, "I love when Dana opens a fresh pack of Paper-Mates and lets me take the purple one. We obviously can't use the hot pink or yellow, but Robby says the purple is fine. Sometimes the patients notice it, especially when it's their favorite color, and I don't know, maybe when you're at your worst it's the small things that add a little joy."

"A little joy is good for that place," Abbot smiles, kindly. He gets it. He always does.

"I think I love joy but only like love," Samira confesses. She doesn't know why. "I think that's my real one."

"I think," Abbot says slowly, "There are worse Achilles' heels than that."

"Like what?"

"Like french fries."

He steals one off her plate.

[dazzlingsuns]

I deserve an em dash. As a little treat

[dazzlingsuns]

Walt Whitman, from "Song of Myself" in Leaves of Grass

[dazzlingsuns]

you spend all your time fantasizing about white men and desi women fucking white men. you're part of the problem.

Genuinely, don't know how to respond to this. Crazy thing to send to someone you don't know <3

[dazzlingsuns]

girllll its a magazine cover its not that deep. besides isa is filipino fyi

Hi. For my own sake, I'm going to assume you didn't have bad intentions coming to my inbox with a message like this but I'm a (desi) woman of color and saying "its a magazine cover its not that deep" is pretty minimizing, dismissive, and frankly, wrong. Yes, it's a magazine cover, but more importantly, it's a very public symptom of white supremacy and how it operates within the entertainment industry. Having these conversations are important. Educating ourselves about intersectionality is important. Calling out media outlets is important.

If you actually are interesting in learning why exactly it is that deep? I would recommend taking a look at Kimberlé Crenshaw's On Intersectionality: Essential Writings. Crenshaw is THE scholar on intersectionality and I think her work is important for everyone to read. Happy to share more entertainment industry-specific readings if that's something you or anyone else is interested in.

And look, I am aware Isa is Filipino, but let's not ignore the privileges she has as someone who is part-white, light-skinned, and a nepo baby. Am I glad she spoke up about her castmates? Yes, very much so, but I also don't really feel the need to give some big congratulations about an insta post. At the end of the day, she still benefits from that media coverage in a way her Black and brown costars will not. Let me be 1000% clear, this is no hate to Isa, I think she's super talented, important representation, and I enjoy her character very much. This is a Variety problem, an HBO problem, an entertainment industry problem, and a White feminism problem.

Unlike Variety, I always have "room" to talk about and celebrate the accomplishments of Black and brown women.

[dazzlingsuns]

don't get me wrong i am happy for isa, taylor, and katherine but wtf is this variety? "didn't have the room" is a lousy and spineless excuse. for a show that touts diversity the way it does, the treatment of the pitt's brown and black women during this emmy run has been abysmal and disappointing but not surprising. tracy, supriya, shabana deserve the room, they deserve the space, and all the accolades and that's all i have to say.

source : variety

[dazzlingsuns]

22 MOHABBOT 😀

Thank you so much for the prompt Becky <333 This... is probably not what you are looking for ahhhhhh but I hope you enjoy this lil prose-y piece nonetheless. Sometimes I just have to go where the words are taking me XD

22 - dandelions

There are cracks in the concrete of the sidewalk that leads Samira to the hospital. They sputter outwards, exploding in the shape of veins, leaving just enough room for patches of green and yellow to burst against the endless gray.

On a kinder day Samira might stop and smile (maybe make a wish or two). She's too busy today, too tired, too everything to avoid the crush of her foot against the flowers. The weeds. They pop back up immediately, resilient, unflinching in the face of her casual callousness. She's just so fucking over the things that bloom in broken places.

What happened to roses and tulips? To lilac and lilies? When did it become too much to want the things that die in fancy vases?

Then again, Samira thinks, at least the dandelions don't die in hospital rooms. Maybe it's not about the bloom or the death. Maybe it never was.

Maybe it's about what gets sunlight, real sunlight, not the kind that filters through waiting room windows. Maybe it's resentment. Jealousy, too. Of girls, who got their first bouquets at dance recitals, not fathers' funerals.

Maybe it's that she's good at her job and bad at love. And that she wants the world to be something it's not.

Fair.

And when Jack takes her on a date. A real first date. He brings her flowers: pink peonies and roses wrapped in a brown paper, bundled neatly with twine. (Of course, they aren't grocery store flowers, he'd never bring her grocery store flowers.) She wants to throw them at him. It's all too nice, too perfect. Why can't he see it? They are too pretty. This is all wrong. Like a shipwrecked chandelier on an desert island.

These are flowers that belong in a hospital, not in her apartment. (God, does she even own a vase?)

I want the dandelions, Samira wants to scream. I want to pull you from the Earth. I want to send you into the sky. I want crush you in my palm, just to keep you there.

"Too much?" he asks, when he realizes she hasn't said a word. He smiles easy, sheepish, even. He's a handsome, nervous wreck. "Sorry, I'm a bit out of practice."

"I've never been in practice," Samira says. She takes the flowers and his hand and stops on her way home to buy a vase.

Send me a number + ship and I’ll write a lil drabble ;)

[dazzlingsuns]

hi. fuck ice. here is how you can help families affected by unlawful deportation

edit: and FUCK LAPD. here is how you can help bail out protestors who are in the trenches, facing mass arrests and putting their bodies on the line.

[dazzlingsuns]

erin lecount, sweet fruit

[dazzlingsuns]

mohabbot 8 + 24 (sorry I know that’s greedy but you are so good at this!!)

THANKS NONNY! Both are beneath the cut! Hope you enjoy <3

Send me a number + ship and I’ll write a lil drabble ;)

8 - postcard (rated c for cheesy af)

Jack has a lot to say. He always has. He can't help it, really, he's been that way since his first grade teacher, Mrs. Trank, stuck him in the back of the classroom for being too chatty with Bethany C. and Becky R. He still talks too much (Robby tells him as much) but he now writes too. He'll do anything that will take the thoughts from his head and heart and expel them from his body.

His therapist says it's a good habit to have but when he's standing in the center of the hospital gift shop post-shift, desperately shuffling through a half dozen variants of 'Get Well' cards, he starts to wonder if perhaps, silence, is indeed golden.

"Seriously, not one happy birthday?" Jack groans, just loud enough for the underpaid shop clerk to hear.

"It's a hospital, not a Hallmark," she replies, with a scoff. "Forgot your wife's birthday or something, Doc?"

"Not quite. Just found out it's colleague's-- a friend's-- birthday about fifteen minutes ago," Jack shakes his head. He doesn't have time to ruminate on the fact the shop clerk thinks he's the type to forget birthdays like that. "You got anything less depressing than 'get well' or 'condolences'?"

"You can have 'Greetings from Pittsburgh!'" the clerk offers, waving a glossy a postcard in his direction. Jack supposes it'll have to do. He pays the outrageous three dollars and nineteen cents for the thin piece of cardstock and flips it to back. He fumbles for a moment before grabbing the pen from the pocket of his scrubs and glances at the empty space.

Dear Dr. Mohan? Dear Samira,

He was already overthinking. How was he already overthinking?

He settles on:

Samira,

Congrats on thirty. It's a big one. I think we all agree you are one of the best things this hospital has going for it. Seriously. I hope today is everything you want. Happy Birthday.

JA

As he slips it through the groove of her locker, he hopes it reads more platonic and collegial and less like a teenager with a horrendous crush. He really does see the irony in slipping it into her locker, rather than handing it to her directly.

What he doesn't see, until many months later, when he's kissing her up against the tiny kitchen island of her one-bedroom apartment, is the lone postcard pinned up on her fridge with a star-shaped magnet and suddenly, Jack can't think of a better spent three dollars and nineteen cents.

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24 - pearls (rated s for slightly spicy fantasies)

Jack thinks he loves her.

He thinks he loves her like the sea loves the moon: worlds apart but intrinsically linked together in a tidal, rippling devotion. He feels it when she enters the room, her laughter bright, windblown, ever so slightly guarded, echoing in his ears long after she's left.

And yet, he says nothing.

He does nothing.

Jack goes through each day with a kind of militaristic discipline, restraining this thing he has gnawing and writhing himself: love, surely, but more than that, a needy ache for ruination, like saltwater on a bleeding, open wound.

Samira is younger. Despite this, Jack sees beyond the visage of her age. When he watches her move through the ER with such determined curiosity and commitment, as though she already bears the weight of the betrayals life has to offer, he knows there must be a million more pages to her story that he's yet to read.

And still, her light is no illusion.

Jack doesn't forget it, even in his dreams, where she appears like a vision, dark curls pulled back, full lips around his cock, a fantasy dredged from the depths of his conscience. He's not sure what worse, that he can't sleep unless he's thinking about his tongue on her bare skin or that he wants to strip her mind apart until he knows her every single thought before its formed.

She's like a pearl, Jack thinks, an impossible beauty, forged in pressure and pain and silence. Her voice is iridescent, teeming with softness and certainty, eyes brimming with a raw rainbow of kindness, even when they fall upon those who do not wish to be seen.

Samira sees him, certainly, which perhaps terrifies Jack most of all.

There are moments, however brief and glimmering, when Jack thinks she feels it too. In the OR, when she's pressed up against him, and he can feel the heat pulsating between their bodies as he guides her through a new procedure. But then she would narrow her eyes, return her focus to the task at hand, leaning right into the sunlight like it belongs to her. Like she isn't forged in the same darkness of loss as he is.

He is the saltwater sea, the poison fruit, Jack repeats to himself. To touch her would be to erode her. So he stays near, to skim at her heels, but never close enough to drown.

"Drown me, Jack," she says, in his dreams.

And god, he wants. He wants. He wants.

[dazzlingsuns]

Tattoo- mohabbot :)

Samira doesn't regret it, per say, the little pair of feathered wings that sit at the base of her spine placed between her perfectly symmetric Venus dimples. Sure, it's entirely cliche and little wrought, but it's not unsightly. If Dr. Samira Mohan made it through nearly three decades with her worst mistake being an angel wing tramp stamp, then she supposes she really couldn't be doing so bad.

Besides, she's never had any complaints.

Most days, Samira forgot she even had it. The placement was easy to hide beneath the dual layers of her scrub top and a tight undershirt, but a packed schedule meant she hadn't done laundry in a month and was fresh out of clean, secondary layers to bring to work. Instead Samira settles for her thickest sports bra and a promise to herself to tackle the overflowing hamper over the weekend.

"Hey, Samira, can you bring down the box of protein bars for me from the breakroom? It's on the top shelf and I can't reach."

"I'm barely an inch taller than you, Trinity."

"Yeah, but if you fall and break something then I'm up for the next intubation," Trinity says, entirely deadpan. "That's a joke, by the way."

"Noted," Samira replies, pressing her lips together with the marginally unamused roll of her eyes. "Fine."

She strolls into the breakroom that's empty, except for one Dr. Jack Abbot who sits at the table sipping coffee and scanning a newspaper. It's a real, physical newspaper that Samira's sure he's plucked right from the packed waiting room. After all, she's pretty sure he was the only person in the entire hospital with both the audacity and charm to pull such a heist off.

"Hi," she greets, evenly, "You're a bit early for night shift."

He shrugs, "Thought I'd come in early but apparently I already maxed out my overtime for the month, so Dana has me in breakroom jail until 9pm."

Samira glances at her watch: 7:12pm. So typical. She might feel something resembling pity if her brain wasn't wired the exact same way. Instead, all she's really left with is an insurmountable surge of respect.

"Well, I'll see you, then. I'm working a double tonight," she says, opening and closing various cabinet doors until she finds exactly what she looking for. She considers, for a moment, if she should ask for help but immediately rejects the idea in favor of narrowing her eyes determinedly and pressing one knee firmly into the counter top, giving her just enough leverage to reach up and grab the box. It's only when she has both feet planted firmly on the ground and she turns to see Dr. Abbot staring at her, slack-jawed with a look she can't quite read, that Samira realizes her scrub top has risen up, exposing the unmistakable trace of ink right above the waistband of her navy scrub pants.

Jack blinks at her.

Samira freezes.

"You--" she tries to no avail, as she tugs her shirt down hastily, "Uh, you know what? Never mind."

He sits up slowly in his chair and Samira's unsure why she suddenly feels like it's judgement day. It's not like she's done something illegal. "I was nineteen. I thought it was cool, okay?" she tries to preempt. She refuses to be embarrassed, especially not in front of man she's truly come to admire.

"Cool?" he echoes.

"Like I said, nineteen," she retorts only half-defensively. She still can't read him, which feels a little unfair.

"Cool," he says, again, this time with a nod, his tone settling into what Samira can only describe as a little reverent. She tries not to think to hard about it.

"Okay, well, I'm going to go, then," Samira says, grabbing a pair of protein bars-- one to give to Trinity, one to stuff in her pocket for later.

"It suits you," he says and it comes out a little strangled, a fairly distinct departure from his typical collectedness.

Samira huffs out a soft sort of laugh, "Uh, thanks...I think."

She doesn't think much more of it the rest of the shift, especially not when she's pulled into an emergency gallbladder removal followed by a tibia shaft fracture. She's so bone-tired by the end of the double she sleeps for twelve hours straight.

It's only when she's sorting socks mid-wash cycle does it hit her.

It suits you.

Now, what the actual fuck did he mean by that?

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Send me a number + ship and I’ll write a lil drabble ;)

[dazzlingsuns]

Send me a number + ship and I'll write a lil drabble ;)

June Prompts 🌼

Word prompts to use for doodling or writing

fairytale

garden hose

fruit stand

radio

block party

tattoo

ice cream

postcard

festival

skating

barefoot

night walks

pride

fries

stream

flower crown

outdoors

cocktail umbrellas

playing cards

sailboat

karaoke

dandelions

buttons

pearls

midsummer

universe

neon sign

dragonfly

birch tree

peaches