Same song, second verse. formerly onamissiontocivilize. Musician, academic, educator. She/her, probably old enough to be your mom. I got no time for fandom nonsense and ship war bullshit.
Let’s use an example to see why Mel’s capabilities as a doctor with autism are limited. Look at 2 cases from Season 1: a woman with burned hands and 2 small children (presumably homeless) and a woman suffering from nausea (who has an 'incel' son).
On the surface, these are very simple cases - a burn and nausea. The burn is treated - the patient goes home; the nausea subsides, the test results are normal - the patient goes home. But Cassie senses something. Something isn’t right. It’s intuition, it’s the nuances, it’s something in voice. As a result, Cassie tries to help both women beyond their injuries.
Is Mel capable of providing professional help to both women? Of course. Did she sense the subtext? No. Would the line at the emergency waiting hall have moved faster if Cassie had ignored her suspicions? Yes. Would I want to be treated by Dr. King? I’m not sure.
Complicated? Yes. But how interesting! And how great that the characters are portrayed as precisely this complex and ambiguous.
I've been on summer break and not written a single word. I started a bunch of meds to get my depression, ADHD, and insomnia sorted, then jacked up my rotator cuff (again) so it's been a struggle to find the creative motivation to write.
It's been a few weeks since I updated Tangerine Skies and I hate that it's been so long. I'm on a new antidepressant and finally got some ADHD meds at the ripe old age of 50, and they've done a number on me. But I am writing! Just super slowly.
here's a little snippet where Drs. Langdon and King are getting ready to take forty-eight choir students on a recruitment tour:
Mel steps out of the bus just as they walk over, carrying a clipboard. Her hair is in its usual braid, and like Frank and the yawning choir kids making their way to the bus, she's wearing black pants and a blue polo shirt with a yellow university logo. "Good morning, Dr. Langdon!" she says, far more excitedly than anyone should be at this hour of the morning. "Hello, Penny. And Tanner."
Tanner says hello, but Penny, suddenly bashful, presses her face against Frank's leg. "She's not really awake yet," Frank says. This is a lie. Penny has been wide awake since at least four am. "Abby is meeting us here to pick them up, since I didn't have time to take them to school before we have to leave."
"I want to see the bus," Tanner reminds him.
"Yeah, buddy, we will. Come on. We'll just be a minute," he adds to Mel, before letting Tanner and Penny get on the bus and look around. Penny tries to climb into the driver's seat, but Frank gathers her up just in time and deposits her into one of the empty front seats while a couple of tenors high-five Tanner (this makes him puff up a little bit, very importantly).
One of Frank's piano students, a freshman named Emma, is sitting a couple rows back from where he'd deposited Penny, and she smiles at Penny and waves. Penny waves back and tries to climb over the back of the seat to get to her. Frank catches her just before she topples over the back of the seat. "Oh, no you don't," he says, and she grunts in annoyance.
"Your kids are really cute, Dr. Langdon," Emma says. She makes a silly face at Penny, who laughs and squirms in his arms. "Are they going with us?"
"Oh, definitely not," Frank replies. "Their mom is coming in a few minutes to pick them up."
"How old are they?"
"I'm four," Penny says. She has somehow turned herself upside down in Frank's arms, and the yellow hair bow he clipped in her hair as they were headed out the door falls out onto the floor of the bus. Emma picks it up and hands it to Frank. Penny points her fingers at Emma and counts. "One… two… three…four. I'm this many."
"Tanner will be seven next month," he says, stuffing the hair bow in his pocket. Penny had her fourth birthday while Frank was in rehab the third time. It was the first time he missed a birthday—and hopefully, the last. "He's in first grade."
"Oh! I love first grade," Emma says. "For my music ed class this semester, my field experience is at an elementary school, and there's a first grade class while I'm there. They are so cute. I think I want to teach the little ones. It seems like so much fun."
"Well, luckily you have lots of time to decide," Frank says.
"Hey, Mama's here!" Tanner says, tapping on the window and pointing. Frank looks out the window to see Abby talking to Mel on the sidewalk, presumably asking where the kids are, since Mel's pointing to the bus. "Okay, monkeys, time to go," he says, turning Penny right-side-up and reaching for Tanner's hand. Tanner wants to jump off the bus steps, but Frank keeps hold of his hand. "Careful, buddy," he says. "Lots of cars pulling into the parking lot, don't want you to get hit. Hold my hand till we get to your mom, okay?"
Abby meets them at the bus. She's already dressed for work, her hair slicked back into a bun. She's wearing the gold hoops Frank gave her for her birthday after they were married. "Hey, Frank."
"Thanks for getting the kids," he says, although he said it to her like fifty times on the phone last night. "This is a huge favor, I owe you."
"Yeah, you do. I'm sure I'll find a time you can pay me back." She takes Tanner's hand. "Are their things in your car?"
"Yeah—it's right over here." He walks them over to his car, Penny babbling in his ear the whole time. "She's gonna crash hard later," he warns Abby. "She's been up since at least four."
"Great." Penny being up before the crack of dawn is not a new thing. "Okay, Tanner, can you get your backpack? Thanks, honey. I'll get Penny's."
They get the kids and their stuff into Abby's car and Frank buckles Penny into her car seat. She hates the forward-facing car seat slightly less than she hated the rear-facing one she had when she was smaller, so he only has to wrestle her into it a little bit. "Bye, peanut," he says, and gives her a kiss. Abby's buckling Tanner in, so he goes around to that side of the car to kiss his son goodbye.
For a moment that seemed to draw on for an hour, nobody said anything, the awkward shock of whatever the hell had just occurred settling between them all. Garcia turned toward Frank slowly.
“What the fuck is up with ER Barbie today?” she asked. “Did Poison Ivy over there key her car or something?”
Santos had to cover her mouth to stifle the laugh that burst out. She would think this was hilarious. He bit his tongue so he didn’t say anything he’d regret - they were just beginning to tolerate each other.
Frank stared out the closed doors. “I have no idea.”
or: the one where an overconfident intern openly flirts with Frank, and unleashes a side of Mel nobody has seen before.
inspired by this post by @nervousgazes! thanks for letting me use your idea <3
"Waa why aren't fandoms fun anymore" because you keep policing people's headcanons, make fun of cosplayers,make fun of selfshipers, make fun of beginner artists and just make fun of people for having fun 😐
Also nobody talks to each other anymore. People lurk silently and sometimes like stuff, but nobody exchanges their thoughts and ideas anymore. Which is pretty shit considering fandom is a hobby that is supposed to be about community and not mere consumption.
also you people keep throwing fits about sexual content existing and existing in ways you don't want it to when erotica- especially weird erotica- has always been the backbone of the fic writing scene. we need to bring back don't like don't read. there is never a reason to harass someone over their writing.
literally if you want to read fanfiction, stop policing what kind of fanfiction the people around you write. if it's someone else's creative process, you don't get to have a say in it.
