Thinking about Baran and Trinity in an established relationship and Trinity hasn’t shared any of her history of abuse with Baran. But then one day she’s listening to Baran talk to her son (for the hundredth time in his life) about how strangers should never touch his private parts and teaching him about consent and telling him that if anything ever happens that makes him uncomfortable that he should come to her right away. And that breaks Trinity because her mother never told her that and she never felt safe going to her mom and her mom still doesn’t know. And then Baran adds that it would never be her son’s fault and that she loves him and he can tell her absolutely anything. And Trinity has to excuse herself because she still doesn’t really believe what happened to her wasn’t partly her fault. And Baran finds Trinity crying in the bathroom, and Trinity can’t tell Baran, can’t make herself say the words. But Trinity knows Baran knows, wonders if she’s actually known for a long time.
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Something lighter for Baran - celebrating her birthday/her son makes her breakfast in bed
oops, I made it a little angsty!
July 5th
Baran just wanted to forget that it was her birthday, had planned to spend the day feeling sorry for herself.
That is until she wakes up to the smell of cinnamon and butter. Five-year-olds are not exactly known for their culinary skills, and hers is still with his father to the best of Baran’s knowledge. So why does her house smell like baking, and why can she hear her child’s laughter from the kitchen?
“Happy birthday,” Baran’s brother shouts when she walks out of her bedroom. Her house is decorated with steamers, balloons, and Happy Birthday banners.
Babak runs over to Baran with open arms, and she picks him up and settles him on her hip. “Happy birthday, Mama,” he tells her, and tears spring to her eyes. She’d gone to bed feeling so sorry for herself and woken up to this, to her son and her brother who she loves so much. “Uncle Reza and I cooked.”
Baran looks at her brother with surprise. Last she knew he was in California. “Surprise,” he says, walking over and hugging Baran.
“When did you get here?”
“I got in last night. Ahmad knew I was coming in.”
“Are you and my ex-husband friends?” Baran asks.
“We were just coordinating so that Babak and I could properly surprise you.”
“We got you presents, Mama,” Babak tells her with excitement. “And cinnamon buns for breakfast.”
“I can smell that,” Baran says.
“You need to go back to bed,” Babak says seriously. “We’re making you breakfast in bed.”
Baran chuckles and walks with her son to the kitchen and sets him down on the counter before going to the full coffee machine and pouring herself a cup. “You’re the best brother,” she tells Reza as he grabs her milk and pours just the right amount into her mug. “Thank you for coming.”
“I can’t miss my big sister’s birthday. Cinnamon rolls are a tradition, and you can’t bake to save your life, so if I weren’t here what would you have eaten?” Reza asks cheerfully, and Baran sighs thinking about what her birthday plans had been. If Reza weren’t here, she probably would have stayed in bed until noon and cried before going to pick up Babak. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
She looks over at Babak, and Reza grabs his nephew and puts him on the floor. “Go grab your mom’s presents from your room.” When Babak leaves, Reza turns back to Baran. “What’s wrong?”
“I had three seizures yesterday,” she tells him, and it feels like a weight off her chest when he pulls her into his arms, when she finally feels for the first time since yesterday morning like she isn’t entirely alone.
“I’m sorry,” Reza tells her, rubbing her back and holding her tightly. Baran tries not to cry, not now when her son will be back any second with birthday presents.
“Mama, open your presents,” Babak says, dropping a sack of them down in the living room.
Reza looks at her with worry. “I’m ok,” Baran says. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
“I know, but it still sucks,” he whispers softly enough that Babak can’t hear.
“It really does. But I’m glad you’re here.” Baran takes a deep breath. She can figure her plan out later. Right now, she is going to open presents and let her son give her birthday hugs and eat cinnamon rolls for breakfast.
combining this with a prompt from @valkyrie-in-yellow-coat for Siuan and Lan having a fishing competition. Sorry, somehow it turned a little angsty.
The world doesn’t end, and so they fish.
There is work to do, a world recovering from war and famine, women still held by the Seanchan. Moiraine would have thrown herself into the next mission if Siuan hadn’t confessed how badly she needed time to heal, time to remember who she is after years as Amyrlin then months when she was stilled and her body hardly felt like her own. She didn’t say that Moiraine needed time to heal too. Moiraine would never take time for herself. But for Siuan, Moiraine would stop running. For Siuan, Moiraine would sleep in and spend lazy mornings in bed together, her touch reminding Siuan of what her body was meant to feel, of the pleasure it gave her after months of agony when she felt so distant from herself. For Siuan, Moiraine would spend entire days on the Erinin, fishing, swimming, talking, holding each other.
There are good days when the past fades and Siuan and Moiraine feel so much like the women they’d been before a prophecy stole so much from them. And then there are bad days, days like today when Moiraine wakes up and struggles to communicate what she needs. Siuan and Lan ask if there is anything that would help, but Moiraine doesn’t answer, just looks through them as if she hardly is here, lost in her mind and the horrific memories she’s only just started to share.
Siuan doesn’t know what to do, and so they fish. Moiraine just sits on the boat, and so Siuan and Lan find themselves in a bit of a competition. He insisted that being from a land known for its many lakes that surely he could best Siuan. Ultimately, neither had caught much on their midday boat trip down the Erinin, not exactly a prime fishing time of day.
It hardly mattered when they could both feel that Moiraine was more peaceful than she had been this morning, when they could see her smile at hearing them squabble about who was a better fisherman. And none of it mattered at all when Moiraine dipped her hand into the water and emerged with a fish the size of her arm, smiling triumphantly and laughing with delight before tossing the fish back into the river.
Hi it's the 5 times anon, sorry I wasn't here to reply to your question earlier (also omg your dog what a cutie pie!!) I loved your take on the prompt and I also wouldn't have minded any ship, I'm easy when it comes to Baran. I just love her and love to see her loved.
Thanks for replying to thw prompt in such a thoughtful way<3
Thank you! So happy you enjoyed it and thanks for the prompt. I’m actually happy I didn’t know what ship to write because that led me to write her son instead and I really enjoyed that.
Thank you for sending me so many prompts! This is an accountability post that the next thing I post will be WoT. I have been badly ignoring Moiraine, Siuan, Lan, and most importantly Shark and Piranha. But I also want to say that the amount of angsty prompts you all have sent me for Baran is wild. Anyone want to send me some lighter prompts for her? Maybe a crack fic to write? Even smut. Not that I’m not thoroughly enjoying the angst, but for variety, you know?
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while i don’t dislike the idea of them in vegas (hijinks!) perhaps they elope in vegas on a whim but then they choose to have an actual ceremony later.
but if you were feeling angsty… baran having a seizure in the midst of the celebration. her father just gets up and leaves after that. she’s sad.
No! I am drawing the line! Everyone is having fun at the wedding! (But if you need some family angst that will be posted soon thanks to another prompt)
hi the wedding anon: i know it’s gonna take some research (possibly cultural fusion wedding?) but based off your other works i believe you can pull it off, haha.
i am imagining all the pittlings at the reception. shen and abbot being the life of the party; lifting robby and al-hashimi onto chairs. “dr j” live-streaming the celebration. santos and king on the dance floor. mckay with harrison. whittaker just making friends as he goes. mohan getting them a really wedding present. frank showing up late.
Hi wedding anon. I fear I was growing attached to Vegas hijinks wedding, so thank you for redirecting me to the wedding you actually wanted. I’m Jewish so I can handle the Jewish part of the fusion wedding without research, but I appreciate your addition of the idea that Robby in no way wants anything to do with being lifted on a chair during the hora but that Shen has been to enough Jewish weddings to know this is a thing and to insist on it. But I will put it on my to do list to look up Persian and Iraqi wedding traditions so I can write the wedding you actually wanted and not a Vegas wedding.
Question for the anon who left the prompt for five times people find out about Baran having epilepsy. Working on this now while my dog sits on the sidewalk. Any ship preferences or ships you hate? I’ve got the first few written about Baran’s childhood. But I kind of want the last to be a romantic partner, and I don’t want to write a ship you hate. So if you want to drop me an ask and tell me your shipping preferences that would be amazing.
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I just want to say that I love that you all seem to understand my fandom niches.
Almost every wot prompt is hijinks. Piranha and Shark running away together. Siuan and Moiraine fishing. Siuan and Lan fishing. You get that I’m here for the fluff to counterbalance the angst.
Meanwhile everyone has clocked that I’m also here to torment Baran. Write her having more seizures. Write her life falling apart. Write her suffering.
Anyway thanks for the prompts. I have another train journey next week so I promise to attend to more of them. And if you have any prompts anytime send them my way!
Thinking about Javadi deciding to go into psychiatry. In season two she actually proves not particularly adept at patient or family communication with the Davis family. She has one decent moment with the sister but she also has a moment where she makes her cry and Princess has to deal with the fall out. I don’t have a sense of if she genuinely likes psych or if it’s just an out from competition and expectations. It doesn’t seem like she’s done a psych rotation since her clerkships and that’s very minimal experience to have to get a sense of the field.
No shame to anyone choosing a lifestyle speciality in any way, but I do sort of have the sense she’s choosing psych in part because it’s an easier residency (objectively true- the hours are relatively very good) and a less competitive one (as is EM actually, whereas derm which her dad points her to is very competitive and something she likely would do for the prestige, money, and lifestyle).
I think psych is great if you genuinely love it and want to do it. But I feel like part of her choice is about realizing that actually she might not even want to do medicine at all (she says as much at the end of both seasons) and as a kind of fuck you to her parents (because she chose one of the least prestigious specialities, again no shade as someone who also chose a very not prestigious speciality).
She feels so young in this choice. Like she isn’t making decisions about what she wants but is rebelling against her parents and their expectations. I wonder if a future Javadi will actually work as a psychiatrist or if she’ll turn into a full time influencer or start a wellness company.
Whoever left me the prompt to write Baran and Robby getting married, I love you but do you have any idea how much research I am about to have to do into Persian wedding traditions? Unless they somehow end up in Vegas for a medical conference and get married on a whim. Hmm, much to think about there. Married by Elvis in Vegas? Now I’m imagining them in some The Hangover type hijinks.
- Baran experiencing her first big seizure in years (whether it is a tonic-clonic or a cluster of focal impaired ones is up to you)
- Baran struggling with the fact that she cannot do something independently and safely and hating the fact that she is having to ask for help
I posted this one to ao3 as a one shot but there's a real chance that I'll post a second chapter later.
Thanks for the prompt!
Not Alone (564 words) by Rae325
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Pitt (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Baran Al-Hashimi/Michael "Robby" Robinavitch
Characters: Baran Al-Hashimi, Michael "Robby" Robinavitch
Additional Tags: Epilepsy, Hurt/Comfort
Summary:
Baran is with Robby when she has a seizure.
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omigosh omigosh omigosh i would die if you did anything barantos related!!! maybe trinity helping manage baran's seizures (or her fear about having more seizures), or baran coaching trinity through her own fear of baran's illness? thank you !! xx
I hope this is close enough to what you wanted. It's not Trinity helping Baran during a seizure, more helping her try to find peace with her body. And sometimes that peace comes through sex. If this turned out to be a fic that was totally different from what you wanted please feel free to yell at me and I will happily write another iteration of your prompt.
Pleasure (3014 words) by Rae325
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Pitt (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Baran Al-Hashimi/Trinity Santos
Characters: Baran Al-Hashimi, Trinity Santos
Additional Tags: Smut, Romance, Shame, Allusions to past sexual trauma, Tumblr Prompt, Prompt Fic, POV Baran Al-Hashimi, five years after season two, Baran is still coming to terms with the way her life has changed
Summary:
Baran runs into her former resident at a medical conference and decides to take Trinity up on the suggestion of spending the night together.
Baran and her son going through a school shooting drill/being scared
What if I misread this the first time and wrote an actual school shooting instead? So sorry!
Trigger warning for school shooting and war.
Thank you all for the prompts. You are making my train journey far more enjoyable, though I confess I’m ignoring the work I’m supposed to be doing in favor of fanfic. It will definitely take me a while to write all the prompts but I’m very exited. Some I’ll post on ao3 too and some of the shorter ones will probably just live here.
It happens on field day. Baran is on the sidelines cheering for her son as he hops along in a potato sack. Babak is not a sporty kid but he’s having a good time and that is what matters. He’s nearly in last place when he gets to the finish line, and that’s what saves him.
Baran startles at the noise and feels foolish for it. Her body has never stopped believing that most loud noises are gunshots. It’s better than when she first returned from Afghanistan, but still fireworks, construction, cars backfiring, all make her heart race and her breaths come too quickly, make her need to consciously settle her body and remind herself she isn’t in the maternity hospital. That’s what Baran is trying to do when she sees the first child fall. Then the second. Then the third. Sees blood spread out on the grass.
Baran runs towards Babak and throws her body on top of his. She’d spent an hour in Kabul shielding another woman’s child with her body, that woman lying beside Baran, eyes staring emptily. It was only when the attack was over and a soldier had come and helped Baran up that she had realized the child was already dead.
“It’s ok, you’re ok,” she whispers to Babak. The gunfire continues. She could help people, save people. But all that she can think about now is her son, his small body pressed beneath hers. “I love you,” she tells him, needs it to be the last words he hears if they die.
***
The shootings never get easier. Tree of Life. Pittfest. Days that Dana can never forget. Today an elementary school. The first ambulances are rolling up now, and Dana takes a deep breath, but there is no way to prepare herself for what she knows is coming. They’re expecting twenty victims, and the sight of the six-year-old in the first ambulance makes Dana want to vomit. She’s so small, looks so much like Dana’s eldest when she was that age. Mohan rolls the child inside and Dana goes to the next ambulance, shocked when she sees a familiar face leaning over the stretcher. Baran Al-Hashimi is covered in blood, her hair and the back of her shirt caked in it, and Dana can’t tell if it’s hers or someone else’s. The blood on her arm is hers though, a gunshot wound obvious in her forearm though she shows no signs of acknowledging her own injury. Instead, she’s soothing her child, her tiny five-year-old boy that Dana has never met before but has seen endless photos of. Baran is whispering to him quietly while he cries, and Dana sees the wound on the boy’s upper arm.
Cary Nguyen gets out. “Five-year-old with a GSW to the arm. Good pulses. Received four of morphine. Tachycardic but otherwise normal vitals. Mom won’t let us examine her properly or give her anything, but it looks like the bullet that hit the kid went through her arm and another grazed her back.”
“Baran,” Dana says gently as she watches Baran get out of the ambulance like nothing happened to her, won’t let go of her son. “Can we take care of you?”
“I need to be with Babak.” Baran looks at Dana, utter terror on her face. Dana’s kids are older but she’d spent nights lying awake after listening to the news about yet another school shooting worrying about sending her kids to school the next day.
“Of course,” Dana says, wrapping her arm around Baran’s arm as they walk. Dana knows not to suggest a wheelchair, knows Baran won’t leave her boy’s side. “He’s going to be ok. You both are.”
“Shen,” Dana yells, “Meet me in trauma one. I’ve got two GSWs.”
They transfer Baran’s boy on to the bed, and still she manages not to ever stop touching him. She’s singing to him softly now while he cries, trying to calm him as they get him hooked up to the monitors and evaluate him. Dana brings Baran a chair and eases her into it. “I’m going to look at your back,” Dana says, needs to see what’s under Baran’s shirt to decide how urgently they need to attend to her wounds. Baran nods. “Princess is going to take your vitals and I’m going to cut your shirt off.” She nods again, seemingly unconcerned with what they do as long as she can stay with her child.
The bullet seems to have grazed Baran’s back, but she’s still bleeding. “Shen, come here,” Dana tells him.
“Baran,” he says as he puts his hand on her wrist to to feel for a pulse, “can you move your fingers?” Dana is relieved when Baran does. “Can we give you something for pain?”
“Low dose. I need to stay alert for Babak,” Baran answers, and Dana isn’t sure how Baran isn’t screaming in pain right now.
“Perlah can you get an IV?” Shen asks before turning his attention back to Baran, “Babak is stable. Superficial gunshot wound to his right upper arm. No other injuries that we can see.”
“I don’t think he has any other injuries. I was on top of him.”
“Mom,” Babak calls when Santos examines his arm, tears coming again with the pain.
“I’m here,” Baran promises. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re ok.”
“You probably do need to go to the OR,” Shen tells Baran. “Who can we call for your son?”
“I’m not leaving until my ex gets here.I can’t leave Babak alone.”
“I understand,” Dana says seriously. She would do the same in Baran’s situation. “We’ve got you both now.”