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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    When she'd gone to Robby, she wonders whether he'd been able to smell the desperation buried beneath her hesitance, the overwhelming stench of decaying need giving itself away. Believe me, believe me, believe me. It's all she'd ever wanted. Maybe no one had to die this time.

    Or: Trinity Santos rediscovers the meaning of team.

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    02 Feb 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 15

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    Emery was looking at her with an unusually open expression that made Samira immediately realize she was veering dangerously close to becoming a hypocrite by discussing her personal life with her coworkers.

    Clearing her throat, she quickly changed the subject. “Anyhow, we got a bunch of nice chocolates from a patient’s family earlier, they’re in the break room if you want to steal a few.”

    “Thanks for the tip, Doctor Mohan,” Emery said with a small, surprisingly warm, smile that made Samira’s stomach swoop.

    Giving her a tight nod, Samira turned to go check on another patient. Any patient.


    Samira's now-canon aversion to knowing anything about her coworkers' personal lives becomes just a little hypocritical. Maybe more than a little.

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    30 Jan 2026

  3. Public Bookmark 52

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    “I don’t think your girlfriend likes me very much,” The patient says, words slurring as he gestures towards the curtain lazily. "The mean surgeon chick who was just here. Dartmouth lady. Your girlfriend. She seems pissed. Are you guys fighting? Or is she always like that?

    Samira doesn't mind working on New Year's Eve, mostly because it gives her an excuse to avoid going out. What she does mind is the number of drunk patients who throw up on her, the drunk patients who assume she and Emery Walsh are together because of a shared hoodie, and the drunk patients who demand she and Walsh kiss when the clock hits midnight.

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    28 Jan 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    It’s one of those things—words, phrases, insults, sometimes even compliments—that sticks with Trinity, even though it shouldn’t. Lodges itself somewhere in the gaps of her ribcage, so with each step she can feel it there under skin, flesh and digging through bone. It grooves into the recesses of her mind, it gets caught in her throat, she can taste those words just on the tip of her tongue and she really fucking hates it.

    Much like everything else her stupid brain clings to (it’s a trauma response, she knows that, she’s a doctor, but calling her brain stupid is easier than really facing the problem) it sticks.

    Trouble, trouble, trouble.

    Or: Trinity Santos learns to let her guard down, just a little bit.

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    28 Jan 2026

  5. Public Bookmark 82

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    Natasha is eye-catching even in her misery and her rage; it’s a gift, to be so naturally noticeable and still be able to make herself disappear.

    And she can devastate Steve with a single look. Natasha won’t let him plead to her, so in the quiet of their bedroom at night, he pleads to Peggy because it needs to spill out somewhere: what was I supposed to do, Peg, was I supposed to leave her on Vormir like some broken piece of space trash? Was I supposed to live knowing I’d let her die? Was I supposed to leave her to wake up stranded on some other planet with no way to get home? What else should I have done but bring her with me?

    Peggy has no answers for him. She wishes she did.

     

    [Post Endgame.]

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    26 Jan 2026