Siria's Bookmarks

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This is an automated feed of the fannish bookmarks maintained by @siriaeve at Linkhut. Bookmarks made pre-December 2025 are all at Linkhut.

Current primary fandoms: The Pitt, Interview with the Vampire, and The Old Guard, but I read eclectically.

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Turns out, Mel’s a pretty good girlfriend.

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A homeless vet takes up residence on the corner next to Robby’s place. Not that it’s any of Robby’s business.

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Twelve years after she left without telling him, Anna Del Amico returns to Chicago and John Carter’s life. Both of them are eager to catch up, but neither of them are prepared to admit that happily ever after hasn’t come as easily as they’d once hoped. After hearing about the loss of Joshua, and feeling the desperation of her own failed attempts at having a child, Anna asks Carter to be her sperm donor. This, he thinks, is a terrible idea...and yet...when has he ever let that stop him?

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Daniel is old enough to know that you can never really do anything ironically. But he still starts calling Armand “Dad.”

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His therapist calls it hypervigilance, a trauma response. Jack calls it paying attention. And okay, maybe it overreacts sometimes, this hypervigilance, but it’s rarely wrong outright. So when he gets that feeling of something bad about to go down, Jack turns toward the source without consciously deciding to. His eyes meet Robby’s across the ED, and his entire body goes cold. “Lena, call security,” he says, the low whip-crack of his voice cutting through the conversation at the desk. “Get them here quiet. And call the police.”

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Noah Wyle knows some “The Pitt” fans came down hard on his character, Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, given how the character’s personal struggles caused him to lash out at some of his colleagues in Season 2. But he tries not to pay attention to the online discourse.

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“Did you come here to fuck me?” he asks, gasping as Jack licks a line down his throat. “I came here to help you get some goddamn sleep,” Jack says. “Fucking you’s a bonus.”

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“You think Dr. Abbot is being inappropriate with Dr. Mohan?” Santos’ expression flickered. “Look, I know he’s your—you know, your friend,” she said in a way that implied a lot more than that. Robby didn’t engage with that side of it, simply inclining his head. “He is my friend. I’ve known him a long time. What you’re describing would be out of character for him.” “Men always fucking say that,” she snapped, a lifetime of frustration living there. “‘He’d never do that; he’s a family man. Goes to church on Sundays, gives to charity, pillar of the community.’ But it’s not like that. Abusers aren’t obvious. They hide it. That’s how they get in the door.” She shook her head at him, like he should be smarter than this. “You’re his boss. Of course you’d never see it. It would only come out with people who have less power than him.”

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“Excellent work as ever, Whiptail,” Grant replies. “Now, we’ve got another–” “No,” she interrupts him. “I told you, I need two days. Nonnegotiable.” “Whiptail, this can’t–” “This CAN go to another agent, and it will. Two. Days.” She taps at the screen of her watch to end the call and waits for the clock to reset. 1:43am. It’s thirteen hours back to London from Thurso. Fuck. She’s going to be late. Nine years into her career as an assassin, Judith ‘Whiptail’ Burton struggles to bridge the gap between her career and the only relationship in her life that has ever truly mattered.

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Jack's entire body went still when Robby's eyes flicked over at him, the ED fading out around him as he met Robby's look. He hadn't realized until that moment how much he'd been trying not to get caught looking at Robby since PittFest, and now he knew why; he felt pinned, like he was in a full body hold he wanted to stay in for the rest of his life. Anything could have been happening around him and he wouldn't even know, let alone be able to do anything about it. Jack's got a problem, but he's handling it. Really.

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“What the fuck?” Jack breathed, his attention locked across the bar, on fucking Robby, who was being led toward a back exit by his pool partner, the guy’s hand resting possessively on Robby’s lower back. Robby returns from sabbatical, still trying to find his way forward, and it appears to Jack that Robby’s plans don’t include him.

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At first he thought he was hallucinating his grandmother.

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Terrified to leave, more terrified to stay, unable to bear the thought of being alone with himself for even a single hour longer, he did the only thing he had ever known how to do in moments like this, which was run blindly toward the person who frightened and comforted him in equal measure.

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Robby gets a call that Trinity's in trouble. Again.

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John was abruptly angry, the special anger that was reserved for the obviously guilty, because Ben had Yeah, I did it written all over him.

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Jack successfully distracted Robby with talk of an atypical stroke in a twenty-year-old as they walked just down the street. Robby was so focused on asking him questions that he didn't much pay attention as Brandon led the way inside, past the bouncers and through a dark doorway, the low beat of sensual music rising as they entered. Which meant that Jack got the unparalleled joy of watching Robby as he pulled up short just inside, his eyes widening as he took in the stage, the glittering lights, the gleaming poles, and the parade of half-naked women on display. "What the fuck," he muttered, not a question. "Oh, have you not heard of Lola's? It's all the rage," Jack said innocently, trying to control his grin. Robby locked onto him, expression going stormy. "Et tu, Brute?"