they call me victoria the way i’m going into psych and have mommy issues (just another pre-med student who watched the pitt for the cool medical shit and got way too invested)
not to be christian for a sec but some of you guys really need to internalize "he who is without sin cast the first stone" in this fandom because jfc most of you have not been through half of what these people have been through and you feel comfortable wishing death upon them. if you've never been an asshole once in your entire life then maybe you can say something.
especially if you’ve never worked in healthcare!! like i’m still pre-med in a small town so my job rn is just fetching shit for doctors and nurses in hopes of a good recommendation letter and it’s still so fucking debilitating to be around that level of trauma and distress for even a few hours every day. you are constantly the scapegoat for people going through the worst moments of their lives and then you go home sleep (go to class in my case) and go back.
it’s really not something that you can understand until you’ve experienced it, i’ve had so many friends change career paths because seeing it even from just a volunteer perspective was so difficult.
all this to say, a little empathy goes a long way!!!!!!!!!
small angsty garsanshimi ficlet because… actually i have no excuse sorry
tw- referenced csa and implied suicide
it started slow.
a missed call here, an unread text there, a last minute backing out of the group plan or a irish goodbye early into the night. taking chairs instead of jumping on traumas, saying they were easier to chart. skipping out on the catering orders in the breakroom because “the er waiting room wasn’t getting any emptier.” slowly convincing the people around her not to look for her, not to want her around, not to need her.
it worked well, but the second phase was harder. telling dennis that she was staying over at yolanda’s, telling her girlfriends dennis needed her at the apartment, spending nights walking alone until exhaustion pulled her under right where she was. waking up on park benches, under trees, and on a few memorable nights, curled up next to her best friend’s gravestone. she managed for a week and a half before baran cornered dennis after a trauma to check in because if he had needed trinity at the apartment for 17 days then something must be really wrong. her concern quickly morphed into horror when she learned trinity hadn’t been in the apartment either, begging the question of where she was every night. she called garcia down in a panic and the three plotted how to approach her, the worry setting in as they realized they had no way to know if she’s been eating, been sleeping, if someone was hurting her, if she was hurting hers-
but they tabled the conversation as trinity came back from chairs, deciding it could wait until that night.
then the trauma happened.
17 year old girl, overdosed on painkillers given to her by her gymnastics team doctor. signs of repeated assault.
trinity worked tirelessly to bring her back, and yolanda almost expected her to swing at her when she pulled her off of doing compressions. green eyes turned blue as tears spilled down her cheeks, and she dodged any attempts at comfort as she disappeared back into the chaos.
the worry became fear.
but yolanda got stuck in back to back surgeries, baran had to sort through an admin issue, and dennis had been roped into pulling a double, so trinity left alone.
and trinity left alone.
they returned home to a note and a key to a storage unit, all of her belongings cleared out of all three places.
@mothicalspoken // animal crossing // graceland too - phoebe bridgers // true blue - boygenius // Stars Isa Briones and Gerran Howell on Who Gets Squeamish on Set, Season 3 Expectations and the Unlikely Santos/Whitaker Friendship // funeral - phoebe bridgers // Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life // please stay - lucy dacus
cat got your tongue? - a garsantos social media au
(in this au, trinity never met yolanda on her first day, but she still met whitaker and offered him the spare room because whitsantos siblingism means something to me)
listen I know the running bit is "trinity santos peds calls to you..." but I'm actually such a huge fan of the fact that trinity is not shown to particularly like kids. she's understandably irritated by baby jane doe's crying, (doesn't she even make a comment about how "this is why I didn't go into peds.." or am I hallucinating that lol) and she makes a couple other (funny) comments that give the impression she would rather be doing anything else.
I think what's beautiful about trinity santos + kids in s2 is that she is so kind and good to them despite not having a particular enjoyment of them. softening herself when she talks to Kylie, going the distance to make sure she's safe. singing a lullaby to BJD. comforting the boy who got his fingers blown off, gentle, soothing. trying to fight against an impossibly broken system to find some other way for the boy to have both his parents and his sister at the same time, to have a chance at a better life despite the hopelessness of it.
trinity santos is kind to children and that does not make her a mother. that does not make her a peds doctor. it doesn't make her find some particular love for them. and I fucking love that interpretation way more, because so many times, media will center women around children as if it's their "calling". they motherify so many female characters. they didn't twist trinity into a motherly character she doesn't embody.
the fact that she's good to children is because she's just a good fucking person. and because inside her is a child who was taken advantage of and hurt very badly, so children are probably easier to empathize with. she relates specifically to feeling so much pain whilst being young and scared and confused. and most children have an innocence that does break down barriers and shells. trinity adapts to that communication style. you have to match a child's innocence.
anyways I thought her arc was rich and in character. she's quick thinking and adaptable, she likes the rush of traumas, "strong patient advocate", etc etc... her character isn't suited for peds. it's suited for the ER. she just has a good fucking heart. idk if I explained this very well but it was soo important to me as someone who doesn't particularly "like" kids but will always always be sweet to them because. they're just kids.
dennis accidentally falls asleep on santos one night after a thirty hour shift. they’re sitting on the couch watching some terrible rom com, and dennis just tips over. His head falls on her shoulder. completely unconscious. santos freezes because dennis is not physically affectionate with anyone. but he looks exhausted. he looks safe. so she just sighs and mutters, “jesus christ,” before pulling the blanket over both of them. after that, the cuddling becomes a habit neither of them acknowledges out loud. it starts small. dennis sitting close enough for their shoulders to touch. santos throwing her legs over his lap while they watch movies. dennis absentmindedly leaning into her side when he’s tired. eventually they start falling asleep like that regularly.
dennis sleeps better when santos is there. santos notices first. normally dennis tosses and turns all night, wakes up from nightmares, or jolts awake at every tiny noise. but when they’re curled together on the couch or tangled under blankets after movie nights, he sleeps deeply.
santos secretly likes it. when he curls against her half asleep, trusting, something in santos softens in a way that scares her a little. santos becomes the only person Dennis touches casually without overthinking it. he steals fries off her plate. fixes her necklace when it twists. lets his head fall onto her shoulder after long shifts. grabs the sleeve of her hoodie absentmindedly when he’s anxious. none of it feels romantic.it feels like home. on especially bad nights, when dennis wakes up shaking from nightmares, santos lets him crawl into bed beside her without asking questions. no teasing, no jokes. just warmth and steady breathing in the dark. sometimes dennis wraps a lazy arm around her, grounding himself , inching closer to her. santos never pulls away. they had found a home in each other.
just had an insane thought about spiderman santos and the way if garcia, al hashimi, or literally any of her girls was gwen stacy in the andrew universe id literally be sick
getting big mohantos vibes from "please stay" by lucy dacus
esp. the lines
I think you mean what you say / when you say you wanna die / I think you mean what you say / when you say you want to stay alive
idk just feels particularly santos to me (lov that big feelings kid, she wants to live)
[i'm haphazardly working on an outside pov fic of mohantos & so here we are hearing from trinity's therapist lmao. partially this is bc isa said that trinity chooses life so that's not even my fault. cw self harm discussion but nothing graphic, i skimmed over the details :)]
//
riley would never tell anyone—ethics and all—that they have a favorite client, but trinity santos is definitely their favorite client. firstly, trinity is difficult—not that that always consitutes a client that's enjoyable or even productive to work with; in fact, it usually doesn't. but, after a delightfully disastrous first session where trinity spent the entire fifty minutes trying to deflect riley's intake questions to no real avail, there had been a set to her shoulders when she'd come back the next week. trinity is difficult, yes, but she's even more determined.
secondly, trinity is funny. riley has to school their expression into something serious and professional instead of taking the bait of trinity's jokes, but they do enjoy them. sometimes, they laugh, when trinity is either having a really good or really bad session, and trinity always looks incredibly pleased. riley is a good therapist, in part, because they've learned how to balance things in the way that clients need: sometimes they just need to feel better.
mostly, trinity is riley's favorite because she's fundamentally kind. it's a kindness that's hard to unearth, that's buried under so many layers of fear that have, infuriatingly to riley, who had been attracted to this work because of systemic harm, been reinforced often throughout trinity's life—at least, based on what riley's managed to get out of her in the past two months. trinity tells stories—full of genuine fondness beneath an ever-thinner veil of annoyance—about her roommate and best friend. she gives riley updates about her friends, generous in describing their attributes, how she's developing relationships, even if she rolls her eyes. there's a care impossible to hide when she talks about her younger brothers; her frequent exasperation with them seems lifelong and more amused than anything.
trinity is kindest when she talks about her job; riley isn't yet going to maybe agree with her rant about how her attending suggested she think about a fellowship in pediatric emergency medicine, not when they're still just getting to know each other and trinity, frankly, hasn't made enough progress for that to be a long-term healthy situation. but riley thinks she'll get there, if she wants. there's a heaviness, one that trinity has gotten better at diving into, her walls lowering as the weeks have gone on, as riley has been patient but also held trinity to account often in a way that they think she really appreciates, when it's all said and done.
they've gone through riley's ideas for diagnosis together, in part because they value trinity's opinion, and also because riley knows giving trinity agency is going to be the key to all of it. after a month or so, after trinity opened up in a small amount of detail about some of the abuse she suffered as a teenager, about how it lingers all the time in ways she knows fit a textbook diagnosis, she'd accepted riley's clinical opinion of cptsd with a frown and nod: some resignation, some anger—and some relief too.
that had truly been the start of things wobbling between getting better—making friends and improving her relationships with her colleagues, finding meaning in anything outside of work, working to believe she genuinely belongs as a doctor—and worse—the reemergence of horrible nightmares, even more trouble concentrating, increased hypervigilance, worsening chronic physical pain. riley is good enough at their job—excellent, if you ask many of the clients they've helped, and most of their supervisors—to know that this is all part of it. they think trinity probably understands: infected, scabbed over wounds being reopened to properly disinfect them, stitch them up, bandaged and safe, so they really heal this time around from the inside out. one of the hardest parts of the job, even harder than seeing people not want to get help, is to watch someone like trinity, who, to riley at least, clearly wants so badly to feel good, struggle so immensely on the way there. debreding a wound comes with its own devastation.
today, riley already knows it's, categorically, a terrible day. trinity often looks tired, sometimes exhausted, mostly because of her job but sometimes additionally because of her insomnia. riley is used to her pallor and the dark circles under her eyes, especially when trinity drags herself in after a double or a string of long shifts without days off in between. but when she walks in this afternoon, she seems shaky, heavy; when she sits down, she immediately puts her head in her hands.
usually, riley starts each session asking trinity for a few updates from her week. it gets her comfortable: trinity is notoriously thrilled—and also sidetracked—by good gossip. she likes to talk about work, enjoys when she's really able to genuinely help people; she likes to talk about her friends too, especially samira lately. riley is fairly confident that trinity realizes she has more-than-friendly feelings toward her, and that, by all of trinity's accounts, those are reciprocated, but they haven't pushed. mostly, it's kind of fun to watch trinity try to talk about samira in the same way she does whitaker when she actually blushes and smiles so softly it's impossible to miss.
'well, should we start with some positives?' riley asks. 'how's samira?'
it's a very bad day because usually trinity can shake off some of her heaviness at first, check back into her strong front for a few minutes at least, but instead she just offers a humorless laugh when she lifts her head and brushes greasy hair off her face. she's not in scrubs today, just in a pair of loose cargo pants, her hands shoved into a hoodie.
'did something happen with her?'
trinity sighs. 'no. uh, she's good. we're fine. it's not about—i mean, i guess it kind of is.'
riley sits forward. 'explain a little more?'
trinity puts her head back in her hands and takes a few deep breaths. trinity had eventually opened up to riley about her disassociative episodes—depersonalization sometimes; derealization often—and they're momentarily concerned she's about to have one right now, but then she seems to center. progress, riley thinks.
'i… i haven't been fully truthful.'
'to samira?'
trinity shakes her head. 'no, to you.'
'oh.' riley notices how trinity clenches her hands in her sweater, her chest moving quickly again; they hand her a tissue and then say, 'well, that's okay. i'm glad you feel comfortable to share more now.'
trinity genuinely looks confused. 'i… okay?'
'part of the process,' they assure. 'do you feel like you'd like to tell me what you haven't been able to fully explain so far?'
trinity swallows, processing the reframing that riley thinks they're pretty good at—and they're proven right when trinity takes a shaky, steadying breath. 'i've been self harming.'
honestly, riley is not at all surprised by this: trinity has been struggling, a lot, as she works through things, and, besides, she never seemed fully convinced of her own answers when you'd go through your standard questionnaires to track her mood and safety weekly. 'can you explain more?'
trinity looks hesitant, a little shaky.
'i'll be more helpful if i understand more. that's all.'
she clenches her jaw, but then she nods. trinity explains the timeline to riley, from being a teenager, and medical school, and how she'd been able to stop then, how she thought she'd healed cleanly, the way she was able to take care of her cuts, even though they scarred. 'but, after everything that happened at work—and, i guess, maybe just work itself sometimes, before i was seeing you—i don't know.'
riley makes sure to stay calm, even. 'self harm is a coping mechanism—a powerful one, actually.' it's delicate, the way riley knows they need to be direct but also trinity looks like she's about to bolt out of riley's office at any given moment, but they keep going. 'are you self harming as a coping mechanism to cope with thoughts of suicide?'
trinity shakes her head. 'no. i don't want to die,' trinity says, forcing the words out as she starts to cry. 'there are thoughts i have, and they're overwhelming, but… i want to live. i want to live so, so badly. it's just so fucking hard.'
'yeah, it is,' riley agrees gently but without pity. 'but i believe you, that you want to be here and get better.'
trinity is still crying, but it seems to stop her in her tracks. 'really?'
riley nods. 'it's very clear to me, actually.'
'even with—it's just so fucking embarrassing. i have a real support system now, and i have someone i really care about who's kind and pays attention. i'm good at my job. and i just—i can't stop.'
'first of all, it's not embarrassing.'
trinity frowns.
'and the initial step we'll take today is talking through some alternatives for you to try when you are having intrusive thoughts or need to reorient yourself during overwhelm. we'll put together a safety plan. how does that sound?'
trinity sinks back into the couch, clearly relieved, even if she's still upset. 'that sounds good. hard, though.'
you shrug. 'it is. but that's why we'll do it together.'
she nods, sniffling.
'i want you to be safe, but i don't expect you to suddenly be perfectly healed today.' riley has to fight back a laugh when trinity genuinely looks stunned. they know she's a competitive person, someone who wants to do well at everything, therapy being no exception. 'did you feel like you were going to face negative repercussions for being honest?'
trinity rolls her eyes—red rimmed and watery and very green. 'i mean, obviously.'
riley does laugh then. 'stupid question, sorry.'
'even i'm better at inner child work or whatever than that.'
riley grins. 'you've been working hard.'
'yeah, well. i still haven't sealed the deal with samira.'
'sealed the deal?'
trinity flops back into the couch again. 'you're being mean today.'
riley waves her off. 'continue, sorry.'
'well, it's, like, one thing for whitaker to know. he's so lame, i don't care.'
riley knows that trinity deeply loves him and also does care, but they let it go for now.
'but samira… i have new cuts. it's, like, really unsexy? and she's seen my scars, a few weeks ago, and, like, we've kissed.'
'you've really been holding out on me.'
trinity sighs. 'i'm sorry.'
'no apologies necessary.'
'well, still.'
riley concedes. 'i appreciate it. but i really am just glad you're opening up. this is a big step.'
she groans, which makes riley smile. 'you know, this is really fucking terrible.'
'sure,' riley allows. 'but, congratulations! that's exciting that you and samira have kissed. i know you've been developing feelings.'
'yeah, i'm fucking in love with her.'
this admission—frustrated, on the surface; scared, below it—leads trinity to put her head back in her hands.
'are you worried about how she'd respond to your current self harm?'
trinity scoffs, lifts her head. riley tries, very hard, to make sure they have boundaries, that they feel for their clients but not too much. but their heart aches for trinity in that moment. 'i mean, not in that way. samira is… she's lovely. wonderful. kind. patient. kind of uncool, but that works to my advantage because i can show her drag race and bravo and whatever.'
it's hard not to smile at trinity's truly loving ramble. 'so what's worrying you?'
'it's just so… unsexy. not sex, but that too. scars are one thing; i can deal with that just fine. but this is different.'
'that's fair, to feel that way.'
'i just—i don't want her to have to take care of me.'
'you deserve someone—a partner—who wants to do that, though.'
'sure.' it's halfhearted but riley allows it; better than nothing. 'but, like, samira can take care of me by helping with dinner or making me laugh. she's already stressed enough with her residency and her own life, you know? she doesn't deserve someone who's a mess.'
'i don't think you're a mess.'
'you're the only one on earth who knows shit about me who thinks that.' trinity picks at one of her nails. 'i want to get better for her. i want to be good for her.'
'and, most importantly, for yourself?'
'i guess.'
riley decides this isn't quite the time to push at that wall. next week, maybe. 'well, how do you think samira would feel about not knowing?'
trinity's eyes fill with tears again. 'that's not fair.'
riley waits this one out.
'fine,' trinity finally decides on, frustrated, but all on her own. she wipes tears and her chin trembles. 'she would want to know. she would want to help.'
'how about we get you some tools started today, and then you can talk to her.'
'i guess.'
'that way you have some solutions that you can talk about too.'
'ugh.'
riley laughs. 'you're doing great.'
'fine.'
riley spends the rest of the session coming up with alternatives with trinity, suggesting a list and seeing which ones she thinks might help. when riley gets out a workbook with exercises to help process distressing emotions and physical overwhelm, periods of dissociation, trinity actually perks up a lot.
when riley laughs, trinity blushes a little, but she brushes it off by saying, 'i'm very good at homework.'
when riley asks what trinity's plan is for after therapy—namely, if she plans to be alone—she says, 'samira and dennis are working, and i think i'd probably murder victoria, so i've planned to have mel come over. we like to sit next to each other and play on our switches. it's… nice. i don't have to talk, she doesn't mind. we'll probably order pizza. and then maybe i'll see samira, if she's not too tired.'
'that sounds like a really good plan. and you made it without any of my help.'
'like i said, i'm really good at homework.'
and, overall, riley knows they're good at their job—and, even more importantly, that they really do help people. trinity should've had access to help like this for a decade, but she's here now. when riley tells her that she sniffles again, complaining about how riley keeps making her cry—but it's halfhearted, and trinity works too hard to not be genuinely grateful for their help.
'i'll see you next week,' riley says.
'yeah, yeah.' trinity grins—still looking worse for wear, but lighter than she did fifty minutes ago. resolute. telling the truth will do that, riley believes, and, as they drive home later that day, they think about trinity's words earlier, how she wants to live.
the weeks go on, and trinity is, true to her word, very good at homework. they work on so much healing: trinity wanting to get better for samira, for whitaker and mel and victoria, for her brothers, for her patients. and, finally, a steady admission that she wants to get better because she deserves to, because she wants to.
it's not easy, riley knows it very rarely is. but in trinity's first session she said one good thing about herself is that she doesn't give up. steadfast, she'd said—and, riley thinks, as trinity nears two months without any self-harm, she very, very much is.
