Hi everyone β‘
My name is Kaylia (she/they) and I'm in my late 20s now, walking around writing silly little blurbs for silly little people!
Currently, I'm very much into the pitt, especially into rabbot, but even just character studies are really fun for me to dabble in! Those two old nuggets are my favourite toys to play with at the moment!
If I'm not on here, writing anything and everything small my brain decides to throw at me, I love to write longer one-shots on AO3 and am currently working on my first longer fic for them!
On that note: I absolutely take prompts to write if you have them; especially if they are angsty, fluffy or smutty! Or all of them at the same time!
Below the cut, you can find further information on how I organize my tags, as well as all the pitt-fics I have written and links to their posts here and in the archive!
Happy browsing β‘
Let's start with my tags and their purposes. These can also be found within the tags at the bottom of the post to easily search the blog!
#kaylia.exe -> all kinds of my writing excerpts
#kaylia.archive -> all fic-posts, introducing their AO3 version
#kaylia.inbox -> any asks coming in (prompts will also be marked with .exe)
#the robinavitch case -> thoughts and processes on that series
#Anonymous Aftercare -> my Omega!Robby and Alpha!Jack universe, I am building!
My current rabbot fics or introspectives that I have created thus far!
The Robinavitch Case (Explicit) (ongoing) ao3 | tumblr
point taken (Mature) ao3 | tumblr
just this once (Gen) ao3 | tumblr
In His Defense (He Didn't Use a Clicker) (Gen) ao3 | tumblr
Loneliness Hangover (Mature) ao3 | tumblr
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everyone start using your queues more theyre the best goddamn feature on tumblr. imagine if you could post consistently with no effort. imagine if instead of passing around the same new art like a blunt you put it in an indeterminate purgatory where it would come out at random because you shuffled the queue like 5 times to disguise the fact that you went buckwild over your blorbo and went through their whole tag
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Originally, I went in worried the opposite would happen. Growing up, I've been taught that Nigeria, the country, is homophobic. (I was born in America.) But over time, I learned that there's tons of other queer Nigerians; some are out, and some are in the closet π.
RE: Your Mohan Post, I saw someone's tags on a gifset and I was like wait wait, here's another thing:
Speed is incredibly important in an ED. We can talk about how doctors and nurses are forced to work more than able because of hiring practices and take on more-but I do think there is a point to be made by how Mohan's speed does affect others.
Like yeah, she takes her time and ultimately makes good connections with patients (which is why she has high satisfaction scores) but I wonder: if she was forced to move at the speed of her fellow residents, would her scores still be as good? I think the scripts and other characters reactions (such as Collins referring to her as slow-mo in the show, and Langdon doing so as well in a scene that was either filmed and deleted or simply just written) is that it also bothers them.
Like we see Langdon, who is only a year ahead of her, treat a lot more patients in season 1. And I think (even though part of its due to being in triage) when he comes back to the main hub he still is able to treat more, see more patients and be involved in more cases, even just for a few minutes. I think even McKay saw just as much if not a few more cases, or was involved in more.
To me I wonder: does she get too caught up in cases such as Orlando's often? I wish she was in season 3 to see more of this dynamic, but I also think her story ultimately ending with her not being a good fit for ED wouldn't have gone over well, despite the fact the show kinda says so.
Efficiency is really important. One of the most important skills in working in the US healthcare system at this moment is balancing the ability to connect with patients with the ability to see the number of patients needed.
Iβll just share what my experience is because I think itβs a good window into pace of practice that people not in healthcare might not know or understand. My training is in internal medicine and I work in primary care and urgent care at a community health center that takes care of mainly low income patients, the majority of whom are immigrants who do not speak English.
In primary care almost all my patients are elderly, extremely medically and socially complex and require an interpreter. Their visits are 15 minutes long. Think about that. 15 minutes for an 80 year old patient who has numerous health conditions, takes 20 medications, needs an interpreter for the visit, is marginally housed, and is afraid of being deported. Thatβs a typical visit for me. And I do that again and again, seeing 25 patients per day
I canβt run behind or my patients would wait hours and become angry and I would never go home. On top of that are administrative tasks for my panel of 1500 patients. You have to be efficient. You literally cannot do that job if youβre not committed to learning to be efficient. I have a wonderful friend who is so kind and thorough and she gets paid for 40 hours per week and literally works 80 hours because she spends time outside of work doing administrative tasks. This is unsustainable. This is why inefficiency contributes to burn out.
Now I donβt work in an ED but I do work in an urgent care. One shift I work with the kindest most empathetic doctor. She has Mohan energy with patients. They adore this doctor. And when we work together, in a four hour shift she might see ten patients while I see twenty. Now my coworker is kind and wonderful and doesnβt have Mohanβs attitude towards her colleagues so I donβt mind. But you can see how one doctorβs inefficiency makes a lot more work for the other doctor. It also means I just canβt take time with my patients. I have to have quick visits. I canβt take the extra few minutes to sit with a crying patient. Because in the waiting room people are cursing and threatening out front desk staff. And patients are coming out of their rooms and yelling at nurses about the wait time.
It would be wonderful if the system was built for doctors to spend hours with patients, but thatβs not reality. Occasionally it has to happen with a special circumstance. But it canβt be the norm or the system falls apart and everyone suffers.
Geriatrics is a good speciality for slower doctors because you have longer visits and more support staff. But Samira would have to go into EM Geri which is different. She would still work in the ED. Otherwise she would need to redo her whole residency in IM or FM then do a geriatrics fellowship. And as someone who found residency to be some of the most challenging years of my life I cannot imagine choosing to do a second one.
Just figured Iβd give some context since a lot of my thoughts on Mohan are shaped by having worked with very slow residents and interns both in the hospital when I was a resident and now when I supervise them. They cause real problems for teammates and patients. And residents are learning and so if theyβre working on efficiency thatβs great. But Mohanβs self-righteous attitude where she refuses to try to work on this is what gets me.
Back on my Robby has both touch aversion and touch starvation bullshit.
As if it weren't bad enough that he has that contradictory set of issues.
the one exception to the aversion has to be the exact person whose touch would undo him completely.
I needed to write about it, so... have this snippet of Robby and his very normal, completely fine evening of watching a basketball game with his best friend in which he barely watches half of the damn game.
rabbot | 1.3k | angst if u squint | but also comfort | tiny splash of subspace at the end as a treat for both Michael and Me
The game was on the third quarter now, but Robby had stopped actively paying attention to it somewhere around the second.
It wasn't his fault though. The Knicks were down by eleven and Jack had been giving a shitload of commentary that had very little to do with basketball and a lot more to do with his personal beef with specific players that Robby knew dated back years.
It was background noise in the best way possible. That kind Robby's brain didn't have to do anything with and could instead just⦠turn off.
Unfortunately though, that plan hadn't panned out the way he intended, because for some damn reason, something was different today, compared to the many times he had constructed this situation.
Instead of being able to just exist in the proximity that was so much more than just a ball game, Michael was aware the entire time.
Aware of the fact that Jack's arm was laying along the back of the couch.
Now⦠that wasn't unheard of and far from the first time it had happened, but today, during his shift, he had overheard a singular piece of a conversation that simply wouldn't let him rest.
'Oh, well that's not surprising. Dr. Robby doesn't really like being touched.'
Which⦠was true. To some degree, but instead of just appreciating the fact that his boundaries were being respected and communicated, Robby's mind immediately shot to the fact that he wanted nothing more than being touched. Nothing. More.
Yet never would allow himself that.
The arm was not around him and that was the thing. It was just⦠there. Draped over the cushions lining the back of the couch; Like Jack needed somewhere to put it, the back of the couch was both convenient and comfy and Robby just happened to be there.
Entirely without ulterior motive. Just like every time.
Now Michael had become aware of it in the way one became aware of a sound that'd been going for a while. Not immediately as it started, but after some internal threshold had gotten surpassed and ones brain decided that it was time to register it now.
The warmth of that arm sitting almost-but-not-quite on his shoulders-
The fact that if he shifted back even just a minimal amount-
But Michael didn't shift back.
Instead he thought about why not.
He thought about Santos who'd grabbed his elbow some two weeks ago to get his attention. How Robby had shifted away without taking his attention off her, responded and then spent the next ten minutes utterly aware of his own elbow as if it was an open wound in need of navigating around.
He thought about how touch lands wrong on him usually. Acting as too much information. Too much intimacy for what it pretended to be. People touching him to get his attention or a point across and his body logged every single instance of it with a faint, persistent static he'd learned to just- live with.
Maybe he didn't like touch after all.
Jack's arm hadn't moved and there was no static to report.
However, this time that was the part he kept returning to, circling it without landing on the conclusion. That silence, where a clear discomfort about the incoming touch would be.
But⦠He was fine.
More than fine actually.
Michael was sitting there in that specific warmth of Jack not-quite-touching him and some traitorous part of him had been quietly cataloguing the exact distance between Jack's arm and his shoulders. Wanting. Wanting in a way that had nothing to do with anything reasonable for that distance to close.
Michael wanted it the way he wanted things he never let himself have. Badly and without any logic tied to it, and underneath everything else, like a damn frequency his body's been broadcasting for so long he'd forgotten it was there in the first place.
The problem - and he saw this very clearly - was that if this were anyone else on that couch, he wouldn't want it. He'd be managing it. Smiling, staying still, waiting for it to be over.
But the wanting and the aversion seemingly ran on the same track, the same wire, which meant the only touch that didn't make him want to crawl out of his skin, was the exact touch he couldn't ever afford letting himself need.
Because Jack would notice.
Of course he fucking would.
Jack who had known him for long enough to read him even when Robby was actively working on being unreadable in his expressions and actions.
Jack, who could see through every facade of his and butt his way head first through any stubbornness he put on.
If he shifted back in the slightest and Jack's arm were to settle around his shoulders, then something in Robby's face would change and betray him.
Which Jack would clock immediately.
Which would then turn into a moment of Michael baring himself in a way he hadn't even allowed himself to look at for a long time.
So he sat precisely the way he did. He held his beer in his hand and he watched the Knicks.
When the Knicks score, Jack's arm lifts off the couch, accompanying his huff of disapproval.
"Clean shot," Robby says, his voice a little wobbly from the stiffness in his neck. He said it because it was a clean shot and because he needed to be saying something out loud after all this time. Certainly not because the absence of the arm behind him had landed in his soul like a damn sinking anchor.
"It wasn't a clean-" Jack turned to stare at him with a fully betrayed look in his eyes; then his hand dropped right onto Robby's head and tipped it forward the way one were to dunk someone in a cake. "Robby!"
When he was satisfied with the punishment of straining Robby's neck, Jack looked forward again at the TV. His hand however, didn't move back to the top of the couch. Instead it just⦠stayed.
Shifting slightly from the top of his head down to the back of Michael's neck, Jack's fingers settled at his nape with something that could only be the absolute thoughtlessness of familiarity. Like they had simply found the exact place they'd wanted to go and stopped there.
Robby didn't say anything.
He wasn't sure if he could if he wanted to in the first place.
His body was frozen in place as he was more than just aware than moving a single muscle would lead to that hand leaving his skin, moving somewhere far away from him again.
The Knicks scored again and distantly, Jack said something about it. The commentary continues as the game went on, but Michael heard none of it.
He sat in the warm, unbearable and completely ordinary fact that Jack's hand was draped across the back of his neck and had to admit that it changed something within him.
Something in his chest had gotten very quiet, settled down for the first time of what felt ages, held in place by a touch that he'd craved for even longer.
The thick fingers wrapping around the base of his skull didn't rest but instead let their tips run through the short hairs in Michael's nape.
If the Knicks lost by fourteen, several minutes later, Michael didn't see it.
How was he supposed to, with how heavy and deep his breaths had gotten, grounding him in the moment.
How was he supposed to notice with how hazy and blurry his vision had turned, giving him no chance to even guess what had been going down on that screen.
How was he supposed to notice anything, when there was this warm buzz spreading from his nape and seeping into every limb, making it impossible to focus.
If Jack had stopped watching the game several minutes ago, then Michael hadn't noticed it at all.
One day while lounging on the couch, wrapped up in each other, Jack tells Robby that his family called him "rabbit" growing up. Robby thinks thatβs funny because his grandma called him "Mishka" (aka little bear).Β
From then on, whenever they see a rabbit or a bear out and about, they snap a pic and send it to each other. They never realized how often they came across rabbits and bears until they started doing this.Β
Robbyβs at a book store, eyes roving over spines, searching for a particular title. He pauses and smiles to himself as his eyes land on a book with an illustrated rabbit on its cover. He automatically reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone.
Jack's doing their weekly grocery shop. He turns down the coffee/tea aisle and spots the bear shaped honey bottle. A wry grin spreads across his face. Heβs already composing the text in his mind as he reaches for his cell.
Sometimes the pics are accompanied by a joke (mostly Jack), other times a βthinking of youβ (Robby). At this point, they've been doing it for so long, itβs often just the photo. An unspoken way to say, even when you arenβt with me, I always look for you.
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current obsession: fully The Pitt. No way around it. The old man yaoi has me in a chokehold like nothing had in a while.
currently reading: admittedly... nothing apart from the snips I come across on here and beta-ing for the hubby when he asks oops
currently working on: A shitload of Rabbot!
Sequel to The Robinavitch Case (Robby's late gay blooming)
Sequel to Loneliness Hangover (Omega!Robby recovers from a heat spent alone and gets anonymous gifts to help)
Plus all and any snippets that come in contact with my muse as the days go on
last google search: 'Merry-Go-Round of life - Hauru no ugoku shiro'
to find out who the composer was again :/// I didn't remember. Fake Ghibli fan right here.
tagging:
I've only been here a teeny tiny while and am horrible at talking to people (even moots), so if you see this? Then consider yourself tagged by me! Or not! No pressure at all! Have a nice day either way :D
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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