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The Pitt Interview: Taylor Dearden on Mel & Langdon

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I am rereading jane eyre and the second time they speak ever rochester essentially tells jane to get comfortable with him because he is incapable of being normal about her.... which obviously made me think of kingdon

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real things the pitt characters have said

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they are so cartoon shaped

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seven sentence sunday

(tho it's not 7 sentences but idgaf)

boop @cvldbones <3

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She's just stepped off the bed after doing compressions for close to 4 minutes. They have a heartbeat, and she's picking glass out of a gash from their pile-up vic, breath hot in her mask.

That's why she In the corner of her eye, Whitaker does a double take. "Oh! Uh, Mel. You should step away. Blood."

"What?" she says, looking up from the gash she was picking glass out of to cinch the vein as fast as they could.

Samira's eyes widen when she looks at her face. "Your nose is bleeding."

Mel jerks back, instinctively getting as far away from the patient as possible.

"Mohan, take over for Mel, please. Mel, you can take five to take care of that," Robby, who Mel hadn't even noticed had been around, said.

"Yes, I- sorry," Mel said as she discarded her gloves and gown. Samira was already stepping into place, and the procedure continued smooth without her. "Sorry," she said again, noticing the tension in her voice more than feeling it.

"No need to apologise, Dr King," she heard Robby say absently as she left the bay. Inexplicably, she didn't go to the bathroom, but instead speedwalked outside, to the ambulance bay, and then a little around the corner, out of general sight.

She realised why when she finally noticed her erratic breathing under the mask she hadn't taken off. She ripped it from her face now, fruitlessly trying to absorb the steady stream of blood with the wadded up mask.

"Fuck, Mel, are you okay?" Her shoulders jumped, and she looked to her right to find Dr Langdon, all surprised concern, holding his phone and leaned against the wall.

Fine, she tries to say, but all she can manage is an unconvincing nod. In her moment of surprise, she inhales sharply through her nose and accidentally breathes a flow of blood down her airway.

She starts hacking coughing, redfaced and embarassed now too. "Fuck," Frank says again, quickly pocketing his phone. "I'll get you some tissues from-" Her hand on his arm stops him.

"Please," she says, throat rough. "I need you for a second."

She immediately cringes at how vulnerable that made her sound, how presumptuous of his time. But Frank just steps back, says "Yeah, of course."

She must be a sight, dried blood sticky on her chin, still flowing heavily when she slightly lowers the mask to check.

"Mel, can you breathe alright?"

"I bled into a patient," she says.

"It happens," he says immediately. Then, with more gravity, ducking down slightly to catch her gaze, "Mel, it happens to everyone." She feels her eyebrows pull up. "Uhm, yeah, not the nosebleed thing, nessescarily, though I did see it happen during a surgery once- but accidents will happen. We're human. We just do the best we can." He pulls a face. "Generally speaking."

She leans into his chest, forehead to his clavicle, so the blood won't stain his scrubs. He hovers his arms over her shoulders, then puts them around her. Her body feels safe again.

It's such a relief, she feels pinpricks of sensation in her cheeks, a telltale sign of tears coming. She clenches her eyes shut.

"I'm meant to be okay today," she says, turning her head. He pulls her in closer, and she unthinkingly wraps her arms around his waist, leaner even than he looks.

"Did something happen?"

"My mom died last week," she says, before realising how that sounds. She hasn't talked that much about her parents. "Eleven years ago, last week. I was really trying to hold it together then, and it worked, 'cause Becca had her play and we did some last minute decor to set up and- well, I held it together then, but today there was this woman who," the tears start flowing, and she pulls back abruptly. "Oh, I don't want to-"

Frank pulls her back in, that warmth enveloping her in the november chill. "It's an ER, sweetheart, I've changed shirts twice today," he assures, his voice soft and thoughtful like he's grieving right beside her, and Mel just breaks. She cries like it doesn't matter anymore, she lets herself fall apart in the relative privacy of this moment, everything outside of them two void.

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Snippet Sunday

From a Kingdon WIP

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you were our golden child

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Writing isn't just about putting words on a page - it's about creating new worlds, giving people a glimpse into your mind, and inviting them to live in your stories.

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meme-ing shen bcause we’re basically the same person | pt4

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if not best friends, why same size 🤨🧐

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John Shen + his iced coffee

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please, untitled document was my father, call me untitled document (1)

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lemon boy and i, we're gonna live forever 🍋✨

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The clip of Javadi telling her mother that Santos called her Crush not Crash ‘because I’m always crushing it’, next to Langdon telling Mel “you’re crushing it with your patients.”

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I’ve been thinking about these moments specifically

“You examine me, Miss Eyre,” said he: “do you think me handsome?”

I should, if I had deliberated, have replied to this question by something conventionally vague and polite; but the answer somehow slipped from my tongue before I was aware—“No, sir.”

And

“I tell you I must go!” I retorted, roused to something like passion. “Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton?—a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong!—I have as much soul as you,—and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh;—it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal,—as we are!”

Kingdon Jane Eyre AU

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yoyo & er ken supercut