Hello! I am usually called Galaxy (she/her). My age is the year. I cycle through fixations. always up to chat about DND tho. Pls note. Following me means you accept my frequent and horrible typos
I've been resource gathering for YEARS so now I am going to share my dragons hoard
Floorplanner. Design and furnish a house for you to use for having a consistent background in your comic or anything! Free, you need an account, easy to use, and you can save multiple houses.
Comparing Heights. Input the heights of characters to see what the different is between them. Great for keeping consistency. Free.
Magma. Draw online with friends in real time. Great for practice or hanging out. Free, paid plan available, account preferred.
Smithsonian Open Access. Loads of free images. Free.
SketchDaily. Lots of pose references, massive library, is set on a timer so you can practice quick figure drawing. Free.
SculptGL. A sculpting tool which I am yet to master, but you should be able to make whatever 3d object you like with it. free.
Pexels. Free stock images. And the search engine is actually pretty good at pulling up what you want.
Figurosity. Great pose references, diverse body types, lots of "how to draw" videos directly on the site, the models are 3d and you can rotate the angle, but you can't make custom poses or edit body proportions. Free, account option, paid plans available.
Line of Action. More drawing references, this one also has a focus on expressions, hands/feet, animals, landscapes. Free.
Animal Photo. You pose a 3d skull model and select an animal species, and they give you a bunch of photo references for that animal at that angle. Super handy. Free.
Height Weight Chart. You ever see an OC listed as having a certain weight but then they look Wildly different than the number suggests? Well here's a site to avoid that! It shows real people at different weights and heights to give you a better idea of what these abstract numbers all look like. Free to use.
but feel free to drop another ask if you want me to post what i already have haha
that would be amazing!! thank youu<3
ofc! enjoy
i: autumn
Four shifts go by without a glimpse of Langdon's shadow before Garcia thinks to ask if something happened. The answer catches her off-guard more than she'd like. Sudden sabbatical, Mckay informs her with a strange inflection to her voice, blue eyes very intent on the ECG monitor. Robby won't say why. Then, Why do you ask?
It's a good question. Garcia has known Langdon a long time now. They've shared the same acerbic sense of humor since junior residency, and he's still one of the only people with thick enough skin to take her quips unflinchingly, match her line-for-line. He bullies her about her bachelor pad, she asks when was the last time his wife smiled at him. Things of that nature. Incidentally, Langdon isā wasā also a good doctor. Quick, unhesitant, did what needed to be done without reminder. For someone like Garcia, whose two greatest dislikes are boredom and incompetence, he was nice to keep around.
So when Garcia asks Mckay where Langdon's gone, it might be because she misses their easy camaraderie, the ED a shade duller without his livewire presence. But she'd also be lying if she said a certain R1's face doesn't cross her mind. The rookie, shifting things still, causing waves, the distance rumble of an avalanche. Nothing but trouble.
----
Garcia had heard about the REBOA, of course. Word travelled fast in PTMC, and Abbot could be a real gossip when he wanted to. The gutsy intern with the ponytail, Emery relayed in an uncharitable impression of his voice, shaking her head. That was their dynamic. Good cop, bad cop, one picking up the other's slack. If Abbot was lenient, Emery was stern; when Abbot was brash, Emery was contained. Garcia could easily picture the rest of their conversation then, Abbot droning on about initiative and moxie while Emery rolled her leonine eyes.
Ponytail, Garcia repeated belatedly. Was it Santos?
Abbot didn't say, Emery replied. Then, with a sidelong glance: Really, Yolanda?
Garcia was resentful of the implication there, even more so because Emery was right. So maybe she had taken a shine to Santos. Why wouldn't she? An ambitious intern with a sharp intellect, a clear longing for the OR, and a face that was easy on the eyes. It was low-hanging fruit. Yes, she had stuck Garcia's foot with a dirty scalpel, but that could be forgiven. It was almost cute how apologetic she got. Less forgivable was Santos's pluckiness bleeding into impertinence, a disruption of the natural order of things.
And then the REBOA. Garcia didn't know whether to applaud or to curl her lip. Despite herself, she leaned to the former.
It isn't like that, she finally said. Plus, I think I scared her off.
Emery snorted. What, come off too strong?
An image of Santos's stricken face flashed unbidden before Garcia's eyes. Too strong didn't quite fit, but Garcia shrugged to spare herself the interrogation. Something like that.
Now Langdon's gone under hushed-up circumstances, and Garcia would be an idiot to not acknowledge why. She's familiar with how Robby runs his ER, shirking the hand of authority at any cost, and his fingerprints were all over how Santos had asked Garcia to "keep a lid on" what she'd been told. But what Langdon's up to is none of her business now, whether it be attending rehab or soul-searching in the Andes. Even if they got along fine in the trauma bay, he isn't the kind of friend she would give a call. She doesn't even know if she has his current number.
What is Garcia's business: Trinity Santos, first-year ED resident. Supposedly a quick learner, fast on the uptake, adjusting well to PTMC despite her hellish first shift. Not that Garcia would knowā Santos has taken to becoming a mannequin around her, stone-faced and tight-lipped. It's inconvenient. Their back-and-forth before the Pittfest shitshow had been fun, and was well on its way to ending in more, if Santos's appreciative glances were anything to go by. But then Santos had called Garcia downstairs only to bring up Langdon again, this time with accusations of legitimate crimes Garcia would've never thought him capable of, and maybe Garcia had reacted poorlyā baffled by how he'd gone unnoticed by everyone apart from an intern, too busy dodging the scent of legal trouble to properly watch her tone.
As a consequence, whenever Garcia spots Santos now, it's either to see her standing stiffly beside the gurney with downcast eyes, or to watch her retreating figure disappear around the corner like a prey animal. She still wears her hair in that little ponytail. It bounces when she's walking fast enough, which seems to always be in the opposite direction of Garcia these days. Sometimes, Garcia gets the urge to wrap her fist around it and pull. See what she reels in.
----
The latest in the trauma bay is a 24-year-old male, the unrestrained driver in a motor vehicle accident. There's air in the pleural space from a fractured rib which he'll need a chest tube to drain.
Garcia knows Santos is in the room. She'd walked in behind Doctor Mohan, and she now stands a body or two away from Garcia, just out of her line of sight. Not that it matters; Garcia still feels aware of her presence like a burr in her side, a rock in her shoe.
"Prep for a chest tube." Garcia holds her voice carefully neutral, inflectionless. "Doctor Santos, glove up."
She hears a startled inhale. When she turns her head to look, Santos's spine is ramrod-straight, like a string connected to the top of her skull had been jerked taut. "Uh, I don'tā"
"Do I need to repeat myself?"
Santos's eyes meet hers, finally, wide and just a little defiant. Green like stained glass. "Of course not," she quickly says, reaching for the gloves. There she is, Garcia thinks.
Hawk-like, Garcia watches as Santos administers the local anesthetic, makes the incision, this time safely returning the scalpel to the Mayo stand. Her hands tremble minutely at the start of the procedure, but they've steadied by the time she's inserting the tube and suturing it in place, finishing with Xeroform, gauze, and tape.
Her shoulders visibly loosen once she removes the clamp. "Nice job," Mohan says with a quick smile.
Santos grins back at her. Then, she catches Garcia's eye, and her smile fades into that deer-in-headlights expression again. Garcia might've laughed if she didn't feel so strangely stung.
"Good work, Doctor Santos," she offers.
"Thanks," Santos replies, but she's already averted her gaze. Garcia resists the urge to sigh. They'll have to work on it.
----
Garcia keeps at this for a few weeks. She's shameless enough to disregard the bad optics of blatant favoritism, and she's met with at most a brief look of suspicionā Collinsā or exasperationā Robby. The actual problem lies in how little effect it seems to have. Santos stops flinching when Garcia says her name, but that's the full extent to which she warms to Garcia. Otherwise, she seems bent on keeping a professional distance.
This is why, when Garcia exits PTMC to spot the bob of a familiar ponytail not far ahead of her, she finds her footsteps quickening. Big, scary surgeon playing catch-up to a first-year resident. The irony is not lost on her.
Santos isn't alone. The mousy med student is at her side, hands pushed into his pockets. They walk with a careful half-foot of space between their shoulders, but there's also a degree of familiarity to their movements, a well-worn routine. Garcia briefly wonders if there's something between them she should worry about. Still, she thinks she can recognize another dyke when she sees one, and it's too late for second guessing when Santos is now within arm's reach, stopping in place as she realizes who exactly is trailing her.
Whitaker, slow on the uptake, makes it a few steps without Santos before he realizes something's off. His eyes widen as they land on Garcia. "Doctor Garcia," he greets stiltedly. "Whā uh, what's up?"
"Whitaker," Garcia returns, then angles her head toward Santos. "Doctor Santos."
There's a rugged denim jacket pulled over Santos's scrubs, a few errant strands of hair escaping the front of her ponytail. She still refuses to meet Garcia's eyes. In the twilight dark, Garcia can't read her face at all. "Doctor Garcia," she says, and nothing else.
Garcia clears her throat. "Where are you two headed?"
"Home?" Whitaker replies, then seems to immediately regret it when Santos glowers at him.
Garcia is curious despite herself. "Together?"
"It isn't like that," Whitaker quickly says. "We're just roommates. She's, er, sort of helping meā"
"Please stop talking," Santos interrupts.
Whitaker snaps his mouth shut. "Right, sorry."
"Roommates," Garcia repeats aloud. She watches Santos tense, a new rigidity in the line of her shoulders. Defensive, maybe, of the boy. Or protective. "Very precious."
Santos exhales sharply through her nose. "If that's all, Doctor Garciaā"
"I wasn't finished."
Santos blinks, frowning. They're not on the clock anymore, and the cautious deference Garcia's grown accustomed toā and quickly bored ofā in the workplace has begun to slip, ever so slightly. "We really should get home."
"Do you have plans?"
"No, butā"
"You still owe me that cocktail."
Santos's face slackens in surprise. Garcia could get used to this, her gentle curve of her opened mouth. Behind her, Whitaker begins to cough violently.
Santos's jaw closes with a click. She swallows. "You were serious about that?"
Garcia shrugs. She glances at Whitaker, still wheezing a little. "Can he get himself home?"
Santos hesitates before reaching into her pocket, digging out her car keys. She brandishes them at Whitaker who, after a brief silence, allows her to drop them into an upturned palm.
"Not a scratch," she warns.
"Yes, yes, I know." His eyes flit toward Garcia, then back to Santos. "Are youā¦?"
Garcia can't see what expression Santos makes, but her tone leaves no room for argument. "Go home, Huckleberry."
"Right. Okay."
Garcia watches Whitaker scurry away with faint amusement. Then, she strides past Santos in the direction of her own car, listens for Santos's footsteps as she follows.
Santos doesn't say a word on the walk to the car, nor during the drive itself. She doesn't say anything when Garcia pulls into the parking lot of a 24-hour diner instead of a bar. Only once they've sat down and Garcia orders for them bothā Are you vegetarian? No? Good, we'll take two cheeseburgers, and then mozzarella sticks on the side, thank youā does she finally pipe up. "Do they even sell cocktails here?"
"They have beer on tap," Garcia absentmindedly replies, eyes flitting toward her phone as it buzzes. Emery's asking if she'll be able to pick up an extra shift this Tuesday. "I won't be drinking, though, since I drove us."
"Right." Santos fidgets with her napkin, looking very engrossed by the embossed patterns in the paper. "In that case, why are we here?"
Garcia shrugs. "I haven't had dinner. And you haven't either, I assume."
Santos's mouth twists, her lips bitten-pink, shiny in the diner's warm light. "You could've eaten on your own."
"Doctor Santos," Garcia says, very seriously, leaning forward in her seat to peer at Santos's face. "You're bright enough. Did you really think you could buy me a cocktail and get rid of me?"
Santos flushes easily, the color high on her cheeks. "I didn't think you wanted anything to do with me."
"Well, that isn't true," Garcia replies with a nonchalance she has to force a little. "Soā what do you do outside of work?"
----
Play video games, apparently, is the answer Garcia eventually wrangles out of Santos after multiple bullshit onesā read medical journals, swim, et cetera. Not that Garcia doesn't believe her, she just has little interest in answers engineered to impress. More amusing is the expression on Santos's face when Garcia asks her what exactly "Fortnite" is, even if the follow-up explanation leaves her uncomfortably aware of her own age.
Now, her plate empty before her, Santos is five minutes into a rant about one time she'd landed herself with a "random who couldn't land a shot to save his life" when she abruptly falters, eyes flickering to meet Garcia's. Sheepishly: "But you didn't ask to hear all that."
It's true that Garcia doesn't find the story itself all that interesting. She's been watching Santos instead, who she's discovered has an expressive face when she isn't actively avoiding eye contact, flickers of open emotion like watercolor in the line of her brow, her mouth. "No, go on," Garcia says with a wave of her hand. "I'm listening."
Santos shifts in her seat. "I mean, that's about it anyway." She catches her bottom lip between her teeth. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"What do you do when you aren't working?"
It's a good question. What does Garcia do when she isn't working? Read case studies, maybe, read this year's Booker prize nominees, read the daily horoscope and scoff. Time herself doing the New York Times crossword, compare results with Emery, frown when she inevitably loses. Go on morning jogs four times a week. Clean the house on Sundays, do her laundry. Pay the local gay bars an occasional visit, bring home a girl who'll ooh and aah undeservedly at her minimalist decor and make a show of riding her strap, pout when she's told she can't stay the night. Get herself off in the shower after with her non-dominant hand, quick and mechanical. Fall asleep alone.
"Nothing interesting," Garcia replies instead of saying any of that, and stings herself with the truth of it.
"I see," Santos says.
There's a frosty reticence creeping back into her expression that Garcia had thought they'd gotten past, warmed away by diner food and conversation. Garcia can't pinpoint what she's done wrong, if anything at all. The not-knowing discomforts her. She clears her throat. "I understand you're interested in surgery?"
"Yes," Santos replies, after a pause. She gives her head a quick shake like she's dislodging water from her ears. "Yeah, I am. Butā I mean, we don't have to talk about that."
"Why wouldn't we talk about it?"
"Seems like a conflict of interest," Santos carefully replies.
"I'd argue it's an overlap."
Santos's answering laugh is sharp and brief. "No offense, but I'm not really interested in sleeping my way into surgical residency. I can manage fine on my own."
Garcia takes a sip of her ice water. "Is that what we were going to do?"
Santos's eyes widen a fraction. "Fuck. Is it notā I mean, I just sort of assumedā"
"I'm messing with you." Garcia dabs at her mouth with her napkin, flags down a waiter for the bill. "I meant to ask, actually. When were you last tested?"
This brings the pink back to Santos's cheeks with a vengeance. "A month ago? I'm clean."
"Good. Me too."
"Cool," Santos croaks.
Garcia snorts at how stiff Santos has gone across her. "Relax, I don't bite." Then: "Unless you want me to?"
With her eyes trained stubbornly on the table, Santos mutters something that sounds a lot like God help me.
When the bill arrives, Santos makes a feeble attempt for it and is immediately rebuffed by Garciaā you owe me a cocktail, not a mealā who pays for them both. She then swiftly gets to her feet, stepping out of the booth into the aisle. "Ready to go?"
She watches Santos swallow, flicker of shadow over the column of her throat. "Ready," she echoes, and follows Garcia out of the diner, into the night.
santos' conversation with mckay was like. painful to watch. a mess. but it was so well written. it's so chewy.
she said LAST EPISODE that she felt her talents and abilities as a doctor were put into question on her first ever day on the job. she said that she feels ostracized by her peers. mckay calls her over for help with a patient because trinity is 'good with the weird ones.' trinity is going to say no, dennis gives her a little encouragement, trinity goes for it. in her head, this is her giving ground. in mckay's head, this is just what is expected of you when asked nicely for something. she goes over and solves the case within a few minutes. mckay sees this as impressive, santos sees this as what is expected of her when told to do something. if there's a problem with a patient, you solve it. mckay comes over and subtly praises her. santos essentially rejects it. all of last season, the messaging to her is 'you are too cocky,' 'you aren't experienced enough to have this much confidence,' 'when you are assured in yourself and your talents, you're unlikable.' when she asserted herself based on her own convictions about patient care last season, she was met with "are you aware you have an aggressive energy, trinity?" so, santos rejects the praise, and mckay tries to double down. then santos doubles down on the 'its nothing, our patients are stupid and its not hard and i'm not being bigheaded' strategy. unintentionally making mckay feel like she's being called stupid for not catching it. mckay goes wow. santos realizes she seems like an uncaring doctor, she goes 'but don't worry, i'm glad they're stupid! i love having job security.' like she is trying to save the conversation while also being true to herself while also not being egotistical while also trying to finish up her hours of unpaid post-shift work. but we've already gotten a š¦ mckay will remember this š¦ pop up in the upper lefthand corner and she has only dug herself deeper in this hole
Javadi: I'm sorry, your mean nicknames were your attempt at bonding!? We told you we hated them!
Santos: yeah I've really only ever socialized in the context of my gymnastics teams. Fucking up and getting a mean name you genuinely hated was part of the culture.
Javadi:.....what'd they call you?
Santos: My name was Pet, cause i was coaches favorite.
just saw a pigeon doing the puffed up courtship dance thing to another pigeon, and as he was strutting around he suddenly stopped for a split second to do a very brief preen-peck at his own side, then returned to the strutting around. and i surprised myself by instantly losing respect for the male pigeon in that moment, like come on man i appreciate you had an itch or whatever but how is she supposed to feel special when you're getting distracted by bullshit like that? which on reflection i don't endorse, i mean those are pretty harsh dating norms i'm imposing on these pigeons, from a total outsider perspective, for no reason. probably not all girl pigeons are as uptight about that sort of thing as i would apparently be if i was a girl pigeon, maybe she even found it endearing who knows, i don't know her. it's none of my business really. sorry pigeons.
Is Season 3 I want Becca to come in with her boyfriend. They had a mishap during sex or something and Becca's fine, but Adam has a minor injury.
Trinity, knowing that Becca usually answers things in great detail: ok, while Adam's getting his x-ray, why don't you explain to me how this happened and what you two were trying to do.
Outside of the room
Mel, definitely not fishing for information on her sister:.....is Adam ok?
Trinity: Adam's up with x-ray, and you know that. Trust me girl, just let this one ride. Becca is.....detailed.
Mel: *mildly disgusted face*
Later
Trinity *Looking through some BDSM how-to safety guide*: this job is so fucking weird....
Cassie *Glancing at the screen*: I mean, at least they told you, that hardly ever happens with sex injuries.
Trinity *Squinting*: There is no way this shit is the beginner's level. I'm just looking for a safety guide!
Cassie:....Wait seriously? I really thought you be familiar with all this.
Trinity *not looking up*: oh fuck you McKay.....
Parker: if she wants to be, I know a couple women that really fuck with the whole pathetic brat thing.
Trinity *turning an impressive shade of red*: pathetic brat? The fuck does-No, actually I have patients to check on.
ok ok i'm thinking color theory here because we know santos is wearing maroon in season 3 and mel has maroon accents with a white shirt
I didn't go back and look at each character in depth so please forgive me if i'm wrong or missing small details (also the note for Mel s2 is one of her socks is blue, but initially it was for my own use so, idk i'm sorry)
The darker the color, I think, the more dire the symbolism is. (Mohan's navy in s1 is lighter than others, indicating that her issue is not as serious. Robby and Langdon's greens are darker than Mel's, etc)
White - Perhaps "white flag" symbolism. Robby in s1 is attempting to work in spite of his trauma. Same with Dana in s2 (working through quitting and coming back after the punch). Perhaps Santos doesn't really fit this narrative in an obvious way? I could shoehorn her arc in s1 since I personally believe that Santos didn't want to be someone who whistleblows her first day (I think this is a contested point, but I really think the text supports that). The red accent might even be the indication that she can't let it sit. Collins is working through the morning sickness and then attempts to work through the miscarriage before Robby sends her home.
Maroon - Maroon seems to act as a foil to Robby specifically (alternate leader), typically by acting as a grounding force until a health issue that Robby has to confront. Collins is clearly the foil to Robby's deteriorating mental health in s1 until he sends her home after the miscarriage Mohan is, in my opinion, very grounded and doing very well as an R4 until her panic attack has Robby attacking her and forces her to doubt herself. Al-Hashimi is also very competent and does well until the health issue comes up and Robby attacks her as well.
Navy - Navy might indicate a struggle to fit into the ED, someone who has to fight to make it work. Langdon's s2 arc is all about struggling to come back and find his place Mohan's s1 arc is about whether she's "too slow" to work in the ED Santos' s2 arc is about being overwhelmed by the paperwork aspect of the ED (especially considering she is still gunning to do two residencies at once) Donnie has an arc in S2, and it's about struggling to be a father to a newborn while working in the ED Lena has an arc in s2, and it's about juggling the ED with being a Death Doola
Green - Hiding a Dark Secret (and/or) attempting to "physician heal thyself." Something they should not be handling alone. Robby's s2 is struggling to hide his suicidal tendencies and wears the dark green sweater until he's no longer hiding it. But he feels like he has a good handle on it (he's going to do it, he just has to get through the day) Langdon's s1 is obviously hiding his drug addiction. He also feels like he has a handle on it (he's convinced himself he's weaning himself off). Mel's s2 is about her no-good, horrible day and having no support system, trying to find a support system. Finding out things are not under control like she thought she had them.
Purple - Indicates that the character will Find Their Place Mel's wearing purple in s1 and finds that she does belong in the ED by the end of the MCE. Javadi's wearing purple in s2, and she realizes she wants to go into psychiatry. Mateo's wearing purple in s2, and he says that he's in med school and says he belongs on night shift.
Gray/Tan - Indicates someone who is competent and compassionate, if a little disillusioned with it all. Interestingly, a lot of characters wear grey in both seasons. See McKay, Whitaker, Perlah, etc.
Black - Lone Wolf indicator. I don't care to go into it, I think it's obvious.
Conclusion: Mel is attempting to work through the trauma of feeling displaced and needing a support system (white shirt). She will also have minor moments of being a foil to Robby's leadership (maroon accents), but Santos will bear the full brunt of this role in s3.
lukewarm take of the day, sometimes i feel like we attribute all of trinity's traits to her trauma instead of treating her like she actually has personality and is a person outside of her trauma. she makes crude jokes and nicknames people and is a little rough around the edges and yes, sure, part of that is because of what she's experienced. but on the other hand, i feel like when people talk about a version of trinity that's more healed or more comfortable around others, we file her down to a soft gooey nice woman with no personality. like where did trinity go? cmon guys.
it was very cool to see santos teaching ogilvie this past season because she obviously has no extra goodwill toward him and the pitt generally thinks of him as a kind of pain in the ass. but she still manages it in a very thoughtful way without the kind of pressure or rigidity that comes from some of the other members of the department. she can be impatient and impulsive and what have you but sheās a good teacher!
This mini story is something Iāve been wanting to do for a while, and I finally found the time and motivation to do so!
The main thing that captured my attention towards Kitty and Illyana, not just as a ship, but as a genuine pair, is their bond as soulmates. I fell in love with their devotion towards one another, regardless of possible romantic implications (especially in the early comics).
I think that whether we agree or disagree on the topic of them being in a relationship, it is clear that their love for each other is genuine, and no matter what life throws at them or how long they stay apart, they will always find a way back to one another.
Gotta say, while the current Magik series is by far the best writing Illyana's had in ages, I'm not too keen on it treating Darkchilde as a seperate entity from Illyana. I feel it flattens things somewhat. (Sidenote, I also find it a bit odd that that's still the word used given that yana is not a child anymore)
This is very late, but I think the purpose of the comic was to display that Darkchylde isn't this separate creature attached to illyana. Its literally her soul and body twisting to protect her from things she subconsciously cant face. Similar to how the 'multiple personality' is described by those that have them.
And you can tell because Darkchylde doesn't refer to them as separate, shes aware of what her role is. And a lot of the struggle illyana has is because shes treating this part of herself as a foreign body.
