bring the bass back

my love, your love, your time machine.

[thestargazerlily]

── lilly

YOU SEEM PRETTY ANGRY FOR A GIRL SO FULL OF HOPE.

20s. she/her. stuck in a time loop (again). germany. of sunsets and earrings and unmade beds. something different bloomed, writing in my room. at the beach, in every life, through every door.

[🪩] my web weavings [🐛] my edits [🍀] my writing ⋆ ao3 [🎧] music recs ⋆ my spotify [📖] fable ⋆ reado [🩷] fav books/movies/shows/albums of... 2025

[stellectrics]

Consider this, 'cause this is it As a kind of requiem.

[spiriteddesire]

He was the only one that was curious about her. It's almost a year now, and still, he's the only one that still tries with her.

[kmsk8r]

@kingdonmicrofic day 12: gold | 340/340 | rating: g

Becca sniffled in the bed across the room, breathing still uneven with upset, even in sleep. In her own bed, Mel snuggled into her mom’s side, blinking back tears that never seemed to fall with an audience. Her mother smoothed down her hair, tugging once on her earlobe, thumb firmly pressed against the gold studs that were still slightly tender from when she got them pierced five months ago. She winced, but didn’t whimper.

You’re always so quiet, her mother whispered. We never have to worry about you.

Her backpack straps dug into her shoulder, shifting uncomfortably in her BIO 313 professor’s office. The bags under her eyes keep growing these days, never enough time in the day for sleep on top of school and Becca and life. With the funeral, she had to miss a week of lectures, too physically exhausted to drive to campus from the apartment that still smelled of her mother’s perfume. It’s understandable why her performance on the midterm was underwhelming. All Dr. Stark had to offer was a bittersweet smile and a knowing look.

You’re a smart kid, he waved off. We never have to worry about you.

Six months into working in Pittsburgh, Mel felt like she was drowning. She worked and slept and worked and slept and nothing else. Every week, she and Becca watched Elf and every week, she’d listen intently to the social dynamics of Middle Hill, living vicariously through her sister’s complex web of friendships to fill the void that she didn’t know she had until a fateful September day. Sometimes, she’d slip up — miss a chart or forget to put in an order. Little things, to see if anyone would notice.

You’re one of our best, Dr. King, Robby assured her instead. We never have to worry about you.

“You really don’t have to do this for me, Frank,” Mel said, hugging her middle tight.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know, but you really don’t have to worry about me.”

Frank frowned.

“I always worry about you, Mel.”

[selkiese]

wawa

[noweakergirl]

Which of these "being near the water with a lover" Taylor lyrics is your favorite

do you remember we were sitting there by the water

the one with danced to all night long / the moon like a spotlight on the lake

he was trying to skip rocks on the ocean sayin to me don't you see the starlight

the coastal town we wandered round had never seen a love as pure as it

salt air and the rust on your door / I never needed anything more

take me to the lakes [...] / I don't belong and my beloved neither do you

Remaining time: 6 days 16 hours

[thestargazerlily]

oh to be in a body of water rn

[kingdoncrumbs]

gold | @kingdonmicrofic july 12 | 318

(i think this is my favorite microfic hehe. i’m drunk. hope u guys love it as much as i do)

“What’s your favorite color?” she asked him absentmindedly, coloring with Penny’s abandoned art supplies on the kitchen table.

It was a simple question, really. He asked it to little kids in the ER who needed a cast or a bandaid so he could get them what they wanted. He asked his kids every year, on the first day of school, when Abby had them hold up a chalkboard for Instagram photos: name, age, grade, favorite color, likes, dislikes.

He couldn’t remember though, the last time someone had genuinely asked him. As the younger brother to three older sisters, he was the blue kid, the only boy. Anything to avoid another pink hand-me-down. His high school football jersey was blue, so he bought blue sneakers to match. Undergrad at Penn State meant just about every shirt he owned for four years was navy, and med school at Pitt was more of the same, so it kinda stuck until he married Abby and she started buying his clothes for him.

He wasn’t a big fan of her tastes, always dressing him up like he was some kind of Vineyard Vines-wearing, boat shoe-owning conservative.

“Why’s it all blue?” he asked, as she pulled out a fourth, nearly identical polo shirt.

“You love blue,” she said, like it was obvious.

He shrugged and, as usual, wore the polos when she asked, and bought the overpriced wine she told him to buy, and laughed when she nudged him under the table, and assumed that she was probably right. Wasn’t she always?

But now, years later, on the other side of his life, sparkling light streamed through the kitchen window. The rays hit Mel’s hair just right and it glowed, like magic, like a million tiny strands of golden tinsel. She was like an angel, her concentrated face shimmering as she colored in the cartoon horse, not a single mark outside the lines.

“Probably gold,” he said, sure this time.

[thestargazerlily]

@kingdonmicrofic day 12: gold ✴︎ 340/340 words ✴︎ warning: some sideline mention of suicide! this is a happy one though bare w/ me

This is inspired by my fav poem 'Hammond B3 Organ Cistern' by Gabrielle Calvocoressi

Coming back to work was Frank's final straw. It was one last try to reach a lifeline before drowning. He doesn't believe in miracles, not after life came crashing down like an avalanche. He unearthed himself, came back wrong and weird. All rebuild like a little Frankenstein.

He doesn't expect to be his old self again or to feel any different.

He doesn't expect Mel.

After the almost-hug and her forgiveness, her encouragement and the fireworks, life hits him like Amor's arrow. He wakes up alone, but for the first time, he doesn't think about ending it all. No pills, no bridge, nope, not today!

Without warning, the brightness is back up: All sunshine and vibrancy and gold optimism pulsating through his veins. How come he spend the last months sulking on the couch when he could've had… this?

It's Monday, and he feels like flying. Don't Stop Believin' on the car radio, volume up, windows down. On his way to work, he passes a smoothie store. He's late, but fuck it. Pulls over, orders two iced teas and some donuts, and tips a ten dollar bill.

He comes into work, not like a beat dog crawling back, but like a tail-wagging Golden Retriever finally returned to its owner.

"Morning, Mel!" He calls out, and everyone around the Hub turns. He's only got eyes for her, and goes in for the hug before he can overthink it. "Got you an iced tea."

"Oh. Wow. Thanks!" She laughs, cheeks flushed pink. "You look happy."

"I am. Cheers!" He bumps his drink against hers. "We should do something tonight. Cinema? Ah, I don't know if I can sit still that long."

Eyes big, the most beautiful shades of brown and green, she drops the straw from her pink lips and points at herself.

He nods eagerly. "Yeah, you!" Who else? She's like the sun, brightening up every room she steps in, and he can't look away.

A grin. "Okay. Yeah. Yay!"

"Awesome!" He holds up a hand, and she meets his palm.

[ofchaosgoddess]

help I’m having ideas beyond my available free time

[drmelbows]

@kingdonspirits obsessed w mel and her birkin

[leclerclegacy]

mutual 1: ITS COMING HOME 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

mutual 2: england is on a blight on humanity

[audreyvoilax]

Gilded Age AU Kingdon

[downheartted]

@kingdonmicrofic day 11: surprise (391/186) mild nsfw warning

“No fuckin’ way.” 

She hadn’t meant to keep it from him. In fact, there is very little now that Frank doesn’t know about her, thanks to the compulsive urge to tell him everything and his compulsive urge to ask. He started getting nosy far before anything happened between them, wanting to know what movies she liked (Waitress and Indiana Jones), the music she listened to (90’s Hip-Hop), and her favorite snacks so he could keep extra in his locker (chocolate chip granola bars). 

By the time they finally slept together, frenzied on her couch in the late afternoon, he could’ve written a novel filled with all of her quirks and habits, what made her laugh or wrinkle her nose.  And after that first time, when Frank proceeded to stay at her apartment the whole weekend, fucking her into her mattress, cooking for her in the cramped kitchen, Mel knew he was hers completely. 

“Mel, baby,” his voice is choked. 

“I just never found an opportunity to mention it. I promise, Frank, I didn’t mean to keep it from you!” Mel’s tone is placating but not wholly serious, as she knows he is far from angry – shell-shocked, if anything. She wiggles a little in place, settling herself more comfortably across his legs. 

“When did you–” 

“After my mom died.” It’s a little silly to talk about while she’s ass-up on her boyfriend’s lap, but she presses on, giving him the CliffsNotes. “She had a thing about good luck charms. There were horseshoes all around the house, that and rabbit’s feet – Becca liked those. My uncle kept horses, too. We would visit his barn in the summer and ride them.” 

“Just like your earrings,” he mumbles, and that makes her feel warm down to her toes. And then, finally, he’s touching her again, running his fingers delicately over the tattoo on her lower back, her small and dainty horseshoe. “It’s–” a pause as he palms her ass and squeezes, making her squeak. “It’s really sexy, Mel.” 

“Oh, yeah?” 

Frank exhales, long and slow, moving to pull her panties down the rest of the way. He flings them unceremoniously to the other side of her bedroom, and they catch on the corner of her dresser, hanging. Before Mel can laugh, his large hand is between her legs. 

“Uh huh. Best surprise ever.” 

[toiich]

Summer Tale (1996), dir. Éric Rohmer

[mortalfaerie]

ooooh i'm on my becca king soapbox again okay so i think something a lot of neurotypical or even just non-autistic fans are missing in characterizing mel is that she identifies with her sister. when she talks about becca it's never "oh well becca does this" it's "WE do this," she and becca are a unit. even when talking about her food issues she talks about it as "my sister and i" and not just her, not even considering this is a notably autistic trait because it's just a her and becca thing. it's not a stretch to say she finds becca - who yes, does have higher support needs - more relatable than her neurotypical coworkers. and mel saying becca is her best friend isn't just her being nice, it's true. becca understands her and she understands becca more than anybody else. becca is not and never will be some "thing" mel feels a responsibility to take care of because becca is the most important relationship in her life, hands down.

[audreyvoilax]

Posts and then runs away—

You guys fuck with frabbymel?