more desperately than romantically

pip. 27. da pitt side blog. bluesyogurt on ao3 my main is ibrahim-mazur!

[stickwithme1]

just in case no one ever heard it yet. here's the "stick with me" aka my namesake and it's the red sauce that makes me go crazy and hurt others and myself

(i believe there was a script transcription that showed he was saying it to mel but i haven't found it yet)

[tdeardztown]

TAYLOR DEARDEN

THE ACTORS NIGHT

[fellowshipincynicism]

for @girldadlangdon (insp)

[stickwithme1]

@kingdonmicrofic @kingdonmacrofic day 25: overwhelm. 1.5k/488. cw: addiction, people being shitty about addicts.

The only indication that something was off was that he couldn't help but feel people's eyes on him.

Nothing too outright but between the nurses, the new med students and his fellow doctors they all seemed to be exchanging a mix of glances amongst themselves that he couldn't quite put together.

It didn't matter. Frank had patients to see and a waiting room to empty. He still headed out to the hub to speak to Dana and pick up something new. But when he walked over, looking at the board and about to pick up the patient with pain around their pancreas, Dana didn't even look him in the eye before taking the tablet away from him and handing it to Mohan as she walked by.

"Al-Hashimi wants to talk to you. She's tied up in a trauma right now." Was all Dana said before turning away to receive a call.

Walking away from that ominous statement, Frank goes and checks if the labs are back from his other cases or if his head trauma had gotten back from his scans. Simultaneously poking his head around Trauma 2 to see if Al-Hashimi was any close to leaving.

He headed to triage, to at least get through some a case or two quickly. Except, when he heads there, he overhears this month's new crop of med students talking among themselves.

"According to Dr. Whitaker he's "done the work" but he looked kinda sus when he was saying it."

"But do you think he'd be dumb enough to pocket a bunch of Xanax and think no one will suspect him?"

"He's basically working in a junkie's paradise. Bet you they don't make such a fuss about missing meds when he's off-shift."

The conversation packs a punch to his stomach, as pointless and judgemental as it is coming from three med students who should be taking the opportunity to learn and not shit-talk a random doctor. But the effect is still the same, his heart falls into his stomach and begins to beat from his diaphragm.

Frozen in place, he retraces his actions though all his patients this morning. He doesn't remember taking anything or being on a case where a patient needed benzos, he's worked on them before but today there hadn't been any need for them. Could he have prescribed something by mistake while distracted? A strange force of habit that he had never gotten rid of? Maybe the computers glitched, and someone else's prescriptions showed up as a prescription he made.

Before he can set himself off into a spiral, Frank exits triage and heads toward the trauma rooms overwhelmed and slightly panicked, half convinced he's was going to storm in there and tell everyone he hadn't stolen anything when he crashes into Al-Hashimi just as she's exiting.

"Oh, Dr. Langdon, I need a word—"

"I didn't do it, Dr. Al you have to believe me." Frank cuts to the chase.

It takes Al-Hashimi a fraction of moment to put herself together, probably not expecting that he was up to speed on the lost medication. "I respect you coming to me, Dr. Langdon but there is protocol—"

"You can check my locker! You can check my car and my backpack, my pockets everything but I didn't take anything. I didn't do it." Frank pleads, desperate. If this got back to the PHP, would he still be on the program? Would they still let him keep his silence even if the meds didn't appear but his urine tests came back clean? What if they thought he had sold them? He grabs at his arms and pulls up his sleeves, showing his clear arms. "No injection sites, no irritation. Nothing. I didn't take anything."

Al-Hashimi's mouth forms a strong line slightly irritated as she speaks firmly. "Dr. Langdon, I appreciate you coming to me. But like I said there is protocol that must be followed, even if it wasn't you there is still medication missing from the Pyxis and we have to report it. We will be checking your locker, we will not be checking your car."

"I promise you there's nothing there, I wouldn't fuck up everything again over some Xanax. I didn't do it."

"I understand that this is upsetting to you, I appreciate that you've come to tell me this." A flash of irritation goes through Frank, hearing the tone they always extend to patients. I statements. He suddenly forgives every patient who got mad at him after he spoke to them like that. "Now I have to continue with the investigation regarding the lost medication and I do recommend you take a moment for yourself, Langdon. No one here is your enemy."

With that, Al-Hashimi walks away and Frank feels the faces of everyone in the main area just stare at him. When he'd fought with Robby it'd been in the faux-privacy of the locker area, now he'd just begged her to believe him in front of everyone, not dissimilar to when Tanner begs not to take a bath.

He turns and walks outside to the cold ambulance bay, hearing the tittering of gossip start up as he's leaving. He walks off to the cement plant boxes whose inhabitants have already been killed by the by the autumn chill. He presses his fingers into his eyes, hoping he damages a part of his cornea to justify the burning feeling of tears building up.

As much as he tries praying, meditating and tries grounding himself by feeling the beads on the bracelet Tanner made him, it's almost inevitable that his thoughts to spiral into outcomes where he ends up in prison.

"Frank?" A voice calls out from the ambulance bay. Mel. She hasn't seen him yet.

"Over here." He calls out, the knot in his throat still firmly in place.

He sees a blurry Mel walk over, worry in her brow as she comes sits next to him. The warmth emanating from her body almost addictive to his skin that has now cooled down with his time outside, his hand feeling stiff already.

"I didn't do it."

"I know."

"I wouldn't fuck up everything just to get high again. I'm better. I swear I'm better."

"Even if you did you wouldn't deserve judgment for it." Mel says, simply and honestly. In the Mel King way, the one that couldn't even imagine judging him for his addiction.

Something in him breaks, the knot in his throat tugs and his eyes burn painfully. He can't stop the tears falling from his eyes as much as tries to breathe through them. Frank looks away from her, as he begins to cry, as quietly as he can. Hoping she doesn't notice, or that she gives him enough grace to pretend that she doesn't notice.

But of course, if she did that, she wouldn't be Mel. She wraps her arms around him, bringing him down to her shoulder and lets him cry.

[cardi0myapathy]

The Last Great American Rock Star (Part 13)

Part 12 | Next | Series Masterlist

[cardi0myapathy]

The Last Great American Rock Star (Part 14)

Part 13 | Next | Series Masterlist

[cardi0myapathy]

The Last Great American Rock Star (Part 15)

Part 14 | Next | Series Masterlist

[audreyvoilax]

Jagged vacance, thick with ice

But I could see for miles, miles, miles

—

[rosenfinchzz]

I forgot to post this drawing :)

[stemelwithme]

@kingdonmicrofic day 25: overwhelm | 488/488 | college au | cw: accidental injury, glass child mel, melmisery

Mel was twelve when she decided she would attend the University of Pennsylvania.

It was a sensible dream. Penn was an Ivy, which meant, according to her teacher, she could “live up to her potential.” It was close enough for her to go home by car, train, bus, or plane, so she could visit as much as she wanted. Becca would come with her, obviously, since she knew that they wouldn’t want to be separated. Philly was a big city; it would have plenty of programs for Becca.

The biggest draw was, of course, Penn’s history. It was one of the oldest colleges in the country, founded by Benjamin Franklin, who Mel had been obsessed with since fourth grade. She checked book after book out of the library about him, starting with the books for kids but quickly graduating to books she could only read with a dictionary by her side.

There was a lot to learn about Benjamin Franklin. Mel liked how funny he was, even if she could only understand half of his jokes. She admired how he cared about fairness. She was upset to learn that he had owned slaves early in his life, but she respected that he changed his mind after learning more and became an outspoken abolitionist. She really liked that he published under a female pen name and defended the amount of work women did.

Mel didn’t apply Early Decision to Penn because she couldn’t risk committing without the financial aid offer, but she submitted her app in October anyway. She applied to the University of Pittsburgh, too, and their rolling admissions meant she had one acceptance under her belt before December.

As senior year progressed, it was clearer and clearer how overwhelmed Becca was by the prospect of Mel moving away and leaving her behind. Becca had been excited about CITY Connection, looking forward to the cool partnerships and opportunities, but she started regressing in January. She stopped talking. She barely ate. She only wanted to watch YouTube on her iPad.

The day Mel got into Penn should have been the happiest day of her life. It was the culmination of everything she’d worked towards for years. Instead, she ended the night in the ER, holding Becca’s hand as she got the glass she’d thrown on the floor removed from her feet.

It was easy to tell everyone that she picked Pitt because she got a full ride. She took down the red and blue pennant in her room. Replaced it with blue and yellow.

At first, Pitt was fine. Just fine.

She ignored her mom’s worried looks. Grinned when Becca started talking again. Cried the minute she was alone in her dorm room.

She finally made her peace with Pitt the first time they kissed. It was fumbling and awkward, mostly because she couldn’t stop smiling.

In the end, Penn had nothing on Pitt: Penn didn’t have Frank Langdon.

[stickwithme1]

Rules: Shuffle your “on repeat” playlist and post the first ten tracks, then tag ten people

tagged by the wonderful @cynicscene <3 thank you! ily!

all eyes on me (outtakes version), bo burnham

2. i know the end, phoebe bridgers

3. the summoning, nerdy prudes must die (musical)

4. la vida era más corta, milo j

5. begged, olivia rodrigo

6. the hand, annabelle dinda

7. all them horses, noah kahan

8. dan, noah kahan

9. no quiero estar acá, lo quiero ya (musical)

10. stupid, lizzy mcalpine

tagging but no pressure!! @mateo-diaz @boundtotheforest @coffeealwayshelps @margathings @captainscurvyisajoke and whoever else wants to partake. i want to know what you guys are listening to <3

[xskywalker21]

MDNI

he looks like he works with his hands

[stickwithme1]

i do want to start tagging certain posts that have nudity or nsfw headcanons with certain tags so people can avoid them if necessary but i believe??that tagging things flat out as nsfw/nudity/etc makes tumblr immediately put a mature label on it so does anyone know an alternative?

[stickwithme1]

im a strong mel also calls frank baby truther. like it's not all the time but that man is her baby.

[melsglasses]

kingdon as ophelia and hamlet doodle this afternoon

[pansiesandposies]

@kingdonmicrofic Day 24: Premiere (304) WARNINGS: age gap, power dynamics, implied infidelity

It’s a little… controversial, at first. The sort of thing that people think is just to stir up buzz about the movie. Rumours that start trickling out of the set of Today, Tomorrow. How close the director seems to be with one of the leads. Chemistry that might be happening behind the scenes, rather than in front of the camera. Jealousy sparking in real life. There’s a good amount of people who write it off. At this point, Mel King is a respected director. She’s been in the business for years, worked her way up how people used to. She’s thought of as sweet, refined. People say that in her forties, her movies are only gaining a new level of depth. It’s hard to believe she’d risk the controversy of going after Hollywood’s new golden boy. Frank Langdon is hot— hot headed, attractive, and selling movie tickets like they’re going out of style. At 26 he’s already been in and out of rehab, worked his way back into the public’s favour, and married a pop-princess. It’s hard to believe that he would throw all that away, too. But then, at the premiere, Frank’s wife is nowhere to be found. His ring finger is empty, even if his arm isn’t. Instead, he’s accompanied by the director, both of them blushing like teenagers as they take pictures and speak to the press. The only answer given when they’re asked about their relationship is a small smile and something half baked about what an honour it is to work with someone so talented. All that to say, when pictures emerge a year later of Mel King with an engagement ring in the same week the paparazzi manage to get a picture of the initials MK tattooed on Frank’s collarbone, it isn’t much of a surprise to anyone.

[tackycardiaa]

Day 24: Premiere

@kingdonmicrofic - july 24 - wc: 432 - cw: implied future sexual content

-

"This is it! Oh my gosh! Look, look! Ugh, you're not looking!"

And yes, Langdon should look at the television in front of him, but Mel's hands forcibly twisting his chin towards the screen is just a bit—okay, a lot—more interesting. Her fingers have become a lot more familiar with his body lately, whether she realizes what she’s doing to him or not. Yesterday he swore her pinky tapped his during rounds, and he’d felt the lingering warmth of it the rest of the day.

Then, earlier this morning, a reporter had interviewed her outside the hospital doors about the nursing shortage. A giddy smile had been plastered across her face ever since, and whenever their paths crossed, she found a chance to tell him about it, repeating the same details, but he didn't mind. For one, she was so cute when she went all starry-eyed, but she also grabbed his arm as she did it.

He finally got so worked up over it that his mouth got ahead of his brain and asked if she wanted someone to watch her “big premiere” with. And, God, her delighted laugh filled him with something embarrassingly arousing.

He hasn't been able to stop staring at her since she'd let him into her apartment. She's in danger of being kissed if she doesn't drop her hands soon—especially now that she seems to be using his jaw as part of a stim, running her fingers over his stubble as her gaze remains fixed on the screen. It feels very good.

"Oh my gosh! That's me!" she squeals as the segment begins, squeezing his face, and Langdon restrains himself because she deserves to watch what she's been waiting to watch all day without interruption.

His eyes flick between the Mel on screen and the Mel still stroking his jaw. The TV version recites exactly what Mel had told him she'd said—maybe, he's not really paying attention—and though it's only a ten second clip, it feels like she's been doing this to him forever.

When it concludes, she finally looks at him, and he smirks as she realizes her hand placement.

"Oh, um—I—I'm sorry."

"Don't be, superstar," he says, and she blushes so hard, so fucking adorably, that his hands cover hers, keeping her there.

She swallows, and then she rubs his face one more time while holding eye contact.

“You can touch other parts of me,” he whispers, voice cracking, “If it helps.”

Her fingers slide to his neck, and then to his chest.

They go even lower a little later.