i'm still relearning tumblr, so forgive me if i make any errors but i wanted to pin my ao3 in case anyone's interested in reading what i've written
everything i write is for fun. all scenarios, stories, and thoughts are purely fictional and in no way a reflection of the characters or actors. i'm just here for a good time, that's all!
my ask box is always open if you're interested in hearing me yap about melfrank freakisms or anything else
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Pitt (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Melissa āMelā King/Frank Langdon
Characters: Melissa āMelā King, Frank Langdon, Heather Collins, Michael āRobbyā Robinavitch, Dana Evans, Cassie McKay, Becca King
Additional Tags: Inspired by Fleabag (TV), Quote: This is a Love Story (Fleabag), Fleabag (TV) References, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Light Angst, Miscarriage, Blood and Injury, Swearing, Smoking, Robby is an asshole, Protective Frank Langdon, POV Melissa āMelā King, Miscommunication, Pre-Relationship, Appalachian Frank Langdon, Appalachian Melissa āMelā King
Summary:
No oneās asked her a question in 45 minā
āSo, where are you from?ā A pair of piercing blue eyes meet hers across the bar. The round wall lights illuminate him from behind, the tips of his messy brown hair gleaming golden.
Or: Different First Meeting (Fleabag S2 EP1 AU) ā¢ For Angsty Kingdon August: Miscommunication
***disclaimer that this is not aimed at anyone in particular, this is something I noticed maybe a year ago and have been discussing in dms for a couple of months. ***
I have noticed over the past few months that there is a significant contingent of this fandom that have a fear of reading AUs for Kingdon, or they at least have a reluctance to interact with AU fics which I think is a real shame.
There is only so much that can be explored in the canon world with the guardrails set in place by the show. This can be circumvented in AU! Dynamics can be twisted and we can explore these characters in deeper, more tangible ways! AND ITāS FUN! At its core, an AU removes these barriers and puts up new ones. It requires so much skill on behalf of the author to create this new world but to also stay true to the ship we know and love, and I think a well crafted AU is one of the delights of fandom. This strict adherence to canon reads to me as a lack of imagination and curiosity about how unique Mel and Frankās dynamic is and personally? I think thatās sad. Sorry! Canon is not the be all end all. To write fic is not to be proven right, and it's not solely to just continue canon. At its core the purpose is transformative.
Iāve also been thinking about the lack of AUs a lot recently because I think itās also a factor in how a lot of people received s2 of the show. I have noticed some people saying they only read canon-compliant fic and have no interest in any AUs which IN MY OPINION (!!) skews their perspective on what canon actually is, and theyāre unable to separate the idealised version of the ship from canon. So at several points in s2 people would say they were disappointed in certain Kingdon scenes because it wasnāt blatantly shippy holding hands heart eyes, whereas if they actually removed the characters and their dynamic from the context of the show theyād be able to understand how the interactions we did get were so fantastic for Kingdon. It becomes this vicious cycle of letting fic inform your view of canon characters and then getting mad when said characters are not like they were in fic. Thatās not how it works Iām afraid!
A few months back I decided to do some digging: did you know that out of the top ONE HUNDRED Kingdon fics sorted by kudos, only ONE is a total AU. The fact that for a lot of writers their AU fics statistically fare 'worse' than canon compliant fics is damning for a lot of the Kingdon readership.
I maybe understand not being as interested in a specific kind of AU because it's not your type of fiction (historical/sci-fi/fantasy/paranormal etc.) but the way some people have said they outright refuse to read any AU at all when itās SO broad a label is confusing to me personally I guess.
I'm obviously not saying canon fic should be thrown out of the window (and if that's what you've taken from this I worry for your reading comprehension), I think there's equal value in that too. We should be encouraging and uplifting all corners of the fandom, and I think publicly saying that youāre totally uninterested in a large swath of fic is harmful and not helpful to anyone. I shouldnāt have to feel like I need to literally defend the concept of AU fic! But that is the environment that has been brewing, so. There you go.
i'm going through WIPs and trying to figure out what my brain will allow me to work on because most of the tab titles are self-explanatory even if i didn't write a little blurb, but i'm struggling to find out what "Sexy Thing :3" means. nestled between "songs in my head" and "tiktok frank". like. did i miss something. am i insane???
@angstykingdonaugust
prompt: addiction
!!! TW: set in season 01, canon divergent, active talk of ongoing addiction, angst, obsessive behavior, frank POV, infidelity, ambiguous ending, hurt/little to no comfort !!!
2.7k words, rated M.
thank you so much to @kingdoncrumbs for beta'ing<3 i appreciate you endlessly.
The morning Mel arrives at PTMC is both the very best and the very worst day of Frankās life.
Itās a clear testament to how cruel the universe can truly be; offering Frank something so pure of heart when heās on the verge of total collapse. Hiding the worst parts of himself from someone he does not know but desperately wants to, pretending he isnāt constantly thinking about the stolen pills in his locker while he puts on the charm, hoping Mel cannot see the tremble in his lips or the way his pupils just donāt look quite right. For her, he never wants to be the version that exists beneath the facade, only what he believes himself to be.
Perhaps itās rather foolish of him to think he can purposefully keep her oblivious to his blatant issues. Sheās a doctor, too, after all, and he may be under some kind of delusion that what heās doing isnāt obvious, so he tries to steer conversations in a way that wonāt shed any light on himself. Complimenting her skills, teaching her complex procedures, asking about her personal life; any means of keeping her from asking about him, because thereās a thick layer of honesty she wears so plainly on her face that makes a majority of his body feel like static, and if she really pried, heād flay open with ease and show her every nasty little part of him he tries to bury.Ā
Thoughts of her cloud his brain in a way that, at first, is somewhat concerning, but itās how heās always been. Consumed instantly with something full-force to the point that it becomes everything, tangling messily inside of his head until another thing or person or thought comes along and takes its place, thus continuing a viscous, subconscious cycle of obsessiveness. Itās how heād passed his undergrad exams, how heād gotten through dozens of parenting books in a measly 24 hours before returning to work during residency without sleep. Itās how he ended up swiping patient medication and tampering with vials from his place of work, because he couldnāt stop thinking about how to manage the debilitating pain and knew he couldnāt trust anyone to fix it except himself. He got through everything else just fine.Ā
But Melā¦ the issue is that the pills didnāt matter when she walked the halls with him, when she calmly spoke to their shared patients, when the corners of her eyes welled with frustrated tears because she couldnāt display the confidence needed despite the fact that she had it. When her smile stretched and brightened as she spoke of her sister, her best friend, it made his heart stammer harder than it ever had from caffeine or the touch of his wife beneath crisp white sheets with the lights off. He didnāt need to step away and isolate himself and groan through the pain ā jaw clenched and molars aching ā because it was time to finally take the edge off. He simply didnāt notice the twinge in his back, only the warmth that radiated off of her that managed to seep into his bones. The kindness. The openness. It was exhilarating, torturous, and so undeniably selfish to try and keep for himself. Mel did not belong to him, Mel did not know him, but morality did not matter. She was his next thing.
They break apart at some point, and as Frankās washing his hands, he dares to stare at his reflection. Heās sporting a smirk so wide, so crooked, that it looks sickeningly wicked. Consuming. As thoughts of Mel swirl around in his brain like thick cigarette smoke in a tiny, dark room, the mischief grows. What blinks back at him is not a married man, for it is a weak excuse for a human being with a devil perched upon his shoulder, whispering that one little syllable he will not let go.
Mel, Mel, Mel.Ā
He walks out with wet hands, with his stomach coiled in a way it has not been since he swiped that first little capsule carelessly from Louieās bottle. Back when his fumbling was chalked up to inexperience twinged with underlying egotistical tendencies and nobody thought twice, despite being on the cusp of his third year of residency.Ā
The quick swivel of his head produces a ghastly sight; Santos, talking with Mel, hushed and conspiratorial-like. Jaw ticking, he looms, lurking close enough to get a read on Melās expression but not so much that either of them really know heās there, attempting to eavesdrop. Ever since Santos made a fucking comment in the trauma room about the vial being difficult to open, Frankās been on edge. Itās her first fucking day and sheās already asking questions when theyāre slammed to high-hell. PTMC is a level-one goddamn trauma center, not a Q&A panel.Ā
Frank bristles when Melās eyes briefly flick over to him. The tiniest flash, so quick that heād miss it entirely if he wasnāt so engrossed in trying to decipher the light pinch of her face, the soft pinkness of her cheeks, and the tiny crease between her fuzzy brows as Santos continues yapping on and on. Eventually, though, after what feels like hours ā and in actuality is about three minutes ā Santos grumbles out a āforget itā and moves on, leaving Mel awkwardly hanging in the way of everyone else, at the risk of being trampled by someone who isnāt paying attention.Ā
He swoops in, feigning nobility like some knight in shining armor, dutifully requesting she join him on a case that definitely didnāt need two doctors. The smile she offers him is downright blinding, and he has a sort of out of body experience, a rush of endorphins that makes him feel ten years younger, freed of all obligations, a man he didnāt get the chance to be for very long. He does not think of his wife, nor his children, nor the fact that Santos has been sniffing around like a rogue guard dog; no, he thinks of Melās bunny teeth sinking into her lower lip and her wiry lashes and her profound faith in an idiot like him.
ā¦
When Robby throws him out the first time, something cracks. Frank says things he does not mean, and bites back things that may ultimately save him, frenzied, not at all focused on Robbyās disappointed face or his brash tone or the way he shoves all of Frankās things into his flailing arms; he aches for Mel. He wonders if sheās looking for him, asking where heād gone. If he could make it out of this, make his way back to her.
He stumbles to his car in the parking garage on uncertain, shaky limbs, his sneakers dragging on the concrete. Everythingās sort of muffled and distant aside from his own heartbeat, pounding mercilessly in his ears, and the pressure in his head. He canāt track down a single thought, throwing his belongings into the backseat and pouring into the driverās side, boneless. He does not turn over the ignition.
Instead, a gutteral, raw scream crawls out of his throat with such fury and determination that it wracks his entire body. His palms slam against the steering wheel until they sting and ache, he thrashes and curses, and doesnāt consider that there may be witnesses to his tantrum. Lungs burning, desperate for a break, Frankās screams turn into whines, drawn out sounds one might expect with tears, yet his eyes remain dry.
Attempting to catch his breath, a glimmer of afternoon light sneaks in through the windshield, and the glare of it ricochets off of his wedding ring. The sight finally draws a weak sob out of him. The gold band mocks him, like a metallic noose, reminding him of who he is under the surface, and what, at the end of the day, he truly has to lose.
He does not like reality and the way it creeps in. Preferably, the lines remain murky and blurred, and Frankās rules are the only ones to exist. He cannot break them if they constantly bend. Besides, there isnāt anybody keeping score.
What he should do and what he does are two very, explicitly different things. On complete opposite sides of the spectrum of morality.Ā
Frank should calm himself down, and call his wife. Explain things the best he can. Attempt to come to terms with what heās been ignoring for so long. Sheāll be upset but hopefully his honesty ā or partial honesty, at that ā gets him farther than he deserves.
However, he does blast Robbyās phone with frantic calls, hanging up before heās sent to voicemail. Tries the hospital, too, incoherently begging whoever answers to just get Robby, fucksake, please but heās brushed off, disconnected, told Iāll give him the message, but Frank knows after the fourth or fifth time of dialling PTMCās emergency department, that message never was relayed.
He goes through phases. If he were cognizant enough of his own internal turmoil, heād recognize that it was likely due to the abuse of pills that did not belong to him and were never meant to be in his system. The moodswings, as heād laugh maniacally about the situation as a whole before breaking down again, wondering why nobody would just listen to him. Why do they only care about his actions, and not what led him to do such things?Ā
Would Mel care?
The idea of her slithers in, wrapping around every doubt and strangling it until it no longer has the freedom to fester. And slowly his breaths regulate, his eyes no longer sting from unshed tears, and his body becomes a simple hum of mild static. An odd, almost peaceful feeling washes over him, eyes slowly fluttering closed, the image of her thin black glasses and pristine braid and her soft, low voice practically floats in his ear. Frank, she whispers, and goosebumps rise along the back of his neck, down his arms, as everything else slowly washes away. Frank. Frank.
He can hear her so clearly, which is fucking insane, given that heās spent only a handful of hours with her and sheās only addressed him as Dr. Langdon, but itās vivid, the way she constantly repeats his name, though the more she says it, the more frantic she sounds, and something about it feels off. The fantasy tilts until he ultimately opens his eyes, and recognizes thereās a dull pounding of tiny, stark-white knuckles on his car window.
And there stands Mel. All five-something feet of her, with glassy, wide brown eyes, athletic jacket balled up in her arms.Ā
In his stupor, he attempts to roll the window down, but forgets that the vehicle isnāt on, so he cracks the door open with a croaky, āMel?ā
She slips into the crevice he created, swallowing audibly, the late afternoon sunset casting an orangy haze across her face and braid, only making her hair look more golden than honey blonde. āFrank,ā she says in a breath. āIā I was looking for you, andā and Princess said something happened but wouldnāt tell meā Iāve been wandering around for a bitā Iā are you okay?ā
Right now, his life, potentially in shambles and flipped entirely upside down, does not take precedent. Mel does. Mel, who looked for him. Mel, who found him. Mel, who makes the pain nonexistent. Mel, the soft thing a cruel universe had given to a man undeserving of such.Ā
āNo,ā he says, realizing just how hoarse his screaming had made him. āIām not okay, Mel.ā
Her lips roll in contemplation, and briefly, she looks over her shoulder before pushing further into his space. Frank can smell oats and chocolate on her breath, her face mere inches from his own.
āAre you hurt?ā she asks quietly.
āYes,ā he nods. The weight of what heās done hasnāt fully crushed him yet, but itās getting heavier by the second, and he doesnāt know what heāll do when it all comes crashing down. Heās lost, seeking salvation in someone who cannot afford the risk. āI fucked up, Mel. Pretty bad.ā
āIām sure that whatever it isāā
To drive his point home, Frank reaches for her jaw, grasping it with what tenderness he can possibly muster up, and leans forward enough to press their foreheads together. He absolutely does not feel a surge of pride in the way she shudders from the forced contact.
āIt cannot be fixed, Mel,ā he tells her firmly, but his voice maintains a gentle edge, something heās reserved throughout the day solely for her. āNot by me, or you, or anyone. Iāve made my bed, and now I need to lay in it. Even if thatās the last thing I want.ā
He doesnāt expect her to respond, so when she does, it startles him.Ā
āWhat do you want?ā
Words fall out before Frank can stop them: āYou, Mel. I want you.ā
The āokayā she lets out is spoken directly into his mouth. He can taste the chocolate still lingering on her tongue, along with a tang of something else he canāt outright recognize, but figuring out the flavor is the least of Frankās worries. While his tongue dances in a way it hasnāt since he was stupid and young and inexperienced, there is a bright, blaring alarm ringing in the back of his head, warning him of where they are and the risk of what theyāre doing. Nevermind the ring, nor the pills, nor the disappointment on Robbyās face when Frankās secret slipped out. He comes to the rapid conclusion that nobody needs to see Mel like this.Ā
So, as eloquently as he can, Frank pulls her into the vehicle. Sheās a mess of limbs and accidentally nips his top lip when she fumbles around in his lap, ultimately settling her thighs on either side of his. The door shuts quietly, and Mel pulls away, her lips slick and pink and puffy.
āIāve neverāā she hiccups out.
āSāokay,ā he says, soothing his palms over her arms. āJust sit here with me for a little bit, okay? Can you do that?ā
She nods before tucking her face into his neck. Her cheeks are damp.Ā
Confessing will not change things. He could tell Mel everything, going all the way back from the very first time he stole a pill back in high school after a nasty fall at track practice. Or the adderall he wasnāt prescribed always finding its way down his throat before exams. Or his wifeās pain medication he swept for himself on nights he just couldnāt shut his brain up. The years of addiction that have gnawed at him, and stolen precious pieces of him that he tried to cover up with a smile and a witty remark and a shitty, cliche egotistical personality.
Admitting to what heās done will not change what the future holds for him but it may change the way Mel perceives him. He knows he does not have her for very long. A thing will come along, whether itās new, or he reverts back to the very little pills thatāve caused such detrimental destruction ā or rather his misuse of said pills ā and Mel will be nothing more than a distant memory.
Itās difficult to stomach while sheās wrapped up in his arms.
Eventually, the sun dips below the horizon, and Melās phone begins to blare with an emergency alert. Frank knows itās not his ā heād turned it off in a fury when Robby refused to take his calls.
She says thereās an active shooter at PittFest. Itās all hands on deck. She begs him to come with her, cradling his jaw with her small, soft hands, eyes so earnest, pleading him to return. To help. To fix those whoāve been wrongfully hurt.
He wants to. His hands ache to. He swore an oath, afterall, but Frank has an idea of whatāll greet him if he grants Mel her wish, so he simply shakes his head and apologizes to her with a slew of gentle, featherlight kisses to the corner of her mouth.
Fate brought Mel to him on a day he was unprepared, and unable to accept, and letting her go may not grant him any mercy, but heāll pretend, for now, that it does.Ā
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inspired by your stargazing fill, how does mel ruin a happy(ish) frabby marriage?
that micro was specifically set somewhere in canon (like a year post s2) so in that one i just assumed frabby were decently happy cuz they were in denial. so much of their happy marriage is just delusion - ignorance is bliss sort of approach - so they ignore just abt everything unless it threatens their livelihood like frank losing his job for ten months after getting fired for taking and diverting pills. their marriage is happy but in my head, their happy marriage is a facade of their own making and keeping.
anyways mel doesn't really mind letting frank eat her out or touch her inappropriately - she's looking for some low commitment fun after years of sweepingly long commitments like med school and whatnot - so she lands on letting frank have his way with her in the backseat or in the staircase before rounds. the thing with affairs is that they're not having one. not a typical, easily identifiable, stereotypical one. they're coworkers who feel comfortable granting each other non-sexual and sometimes sexual favours, that's it. mel doesn't like to think abt his marriage because she's not wrecking anything. They Are Friends. capital F and everything.
mel had enough on her plate w school loans, becca's fees, her apartment that has a leaky faucet that won't quit tapping away at the bottom of her sink while she tries to rest after a gruelling shifts - it's all So Much. when frank hears about the faucet, he gives her a plumber's number and sets her up w a friends and family discount (by this point, she's neither). when he hears about her breakfast skipping issue, he grabs extra snacks before he leaves the house. when he hears she has an awful pebble in her shoe, he forces her off the ER floor so he can shake it out and send her off with a smile. when he hears she needs a hinge profile, he helps her craft one (w victoria's help). when he hears she need to let out some steam, he offers her a baseball bat and her son's piƱata a week before his birthday (they go to the store to buy him a new one before the party). when he hears she has trouble sleeping, he buys her an eye mask with extra foam padding to block light.
and when frank hears mel needs to hump her pillow at night to summon an inkling of sleep? you best believe he shows up to her apartment with his hand ready to administer 10mg of melatonin and two orgasms.
frank waits for his family to finish dinner before he slips out for an hour. he brings mel anything she'd enjoy off the langdon family dinner menu and a quick convenient store run so his wife finds cigarettes in his car and doesn't wonder if he's seeing another woman. everything is so neatly planned out, he just wants to put in his efforts to see his friend when she needs him.
nobody's needed him in a long while. his kids are growing faster then their height charts can keep up, his wife doesn't say she loves him as a greeting or farewell, his dog has an automatic feeder. he just wants to be needed again. so enter mel.
she has all these needs she put off for ages, or willfully ignored (he knows a thing or two about that) to keep her life chugging along. everything is fine if u say it's fine. mel has little issues that need squashing so he squashes. every single on that rises eats at her nerves and he can't have his best resident off her feet. her head needs to be in the game so he puts his head between her thighs to help her fall asleep. a few orgasms here and there. abby never gasped so loud scrunched her face so adorably when he ate her out - not that he had done that this year but he didn't keep track of it anymore, whatever. mel scratched an itch he didn't realize he had.
her needs in turn becomes his because he cannot quit providing her solutions. he figures mel doesn't care enough to inquire into his perfect marriage. it's so perfect that it's no longer a topic of conversation, just a fact of life. like yeah frank langdon is married. they'll put it on his headstone: loving husband, father, retired er doctor, a true friend.
he doesn't know that mel borrows his feelings and now feels the same. she worried at first - he has a family, she forgot what it was like to have a full one of those - still, she knows not to break them. what they were doing never broke his family. he granted her favours like normal! like a true friend!
frank has his family the way mel has becca. none of it threatens their dynamic. they'll always be mel and frank. even when abby finds them giggling at her annual friends and colleagues barbecue where she served 60 of her friends and his colleagues. so what if she caught mel with her leg swung over frank's shoulder as he drilled into her relentlessly? abby doesn't know mel just wants to give sex a trial run with a friend before the real thing with her hinge date later. that doesn't stop abby from calling mel a horrendous string of names she couldn't repeat.
mel never felt like a thief or a conniving little whore who had an eye for other people's husbands. she'd never been called selfish and evil in such crude, unfeminist language. none of it was true of course, she was his friend - and she'd tell abby that if she let her and frank just explain this was a misunderstanding before she threw his clothes in the year and slammed the door in their faces.
truth is, they never wanted abby to find out their friendship led them in such odd places but they couldn't help it. lighting never strikes twice in the same place and they both knew if they didn't grab hold of each other right now, they'd never have this spark with anyone else. wives and hinge dates included.
that's how mel ends up kissing her married coworker on his front yard surrounded by most of their coworkers and all of his clothes. his lips still have specks of bbq sauce but mel loses track of her senses once he whispers we're free, baby against her kiss-bruised lips
Patrick ball no longer attending that panel cause he got a calendar invite letting him know that at the same time he actually has to film a scene with his costar where they are making out in a supply closet. And itāll take all day. So you know scheduling conflicts and all that shit. Itās true I asked him and he told me
I cannot imagine the shock you must feel being handed such a burden, and so unexpectedly. I can offer you nothing but an apology, and a promise that I will do my best to return to you as soon as possible in order to relieve you of tasks I am sure you find unpleasant at best (at worst, I shudder to think). I wanted to offer you security, not responsibility, sweet Melly, and I regret that circumstances have forced you into a scantness of the former and too much of the latter. Please give the children and Becca my love and tell my mother I think of her oftenāand if you would pray for my dear brother's soul along with mine tonight I would be much obliged to your graceful kindnessāyours affectionately, F.L.
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"You're right. You're just touching yourself and I'm just touching myself. And we just happen to be next to each other. There's nothing wrong with that, right?" He says quietly.
"Right." Mel says, and she can't help but smile a little.
"So touch yourself." He whispers, his eyes roaming down her body. "Touch yourself." He repeats.
Mel King doesn't believe in superstitions, but Trauma Room West 13 does seem to be a cursed room in the Pitt. There's always some sort of commotion in there. It seems to attract the craziest or, sometimes, the most aggressive patients. Many times, she's heard someone tell a story of a crazy patient only for them for them to realise at the end of the taleā"oh yeah, that was in room 13 too!"
It wasn't like it was intentional. Dana had started putting the simpler, calmer cases in there to help dispel the curse rumours, but it kept happening. It was like the minute someone stepped into that room, the energy of madness took over.
Today was no different, as Mel watched Frank take a swig from his Red Bull at the West Bay nurses' station just outside of room 13. There was a crash of something which sounded like it hit the floor, a scream, and a code 'hula hoop!' shouted out the door by Perlah. Mel stood up from her chair to assist, but Frank pushed his foot in front of her before she could step forward. "Let me." He told her quickly as he shouted over to ask Ahmed for backup.
Mel watched as Frank and Ahmed dragged a redheaded woman, who kicked, screamed and thrashed her arms, and repeatedly screamed "cheater!" into the room.
A blonde woman quickly came out of the room, dressed in a red sparkly dress. Her makeup ran down her face as she sped walk in the opposite direction. Mel struggled to place where the woman looked devastated or embarrassedāmaybe a blend of both.
Mel followed Perlah as she exited the room, determined to help in some way and check if her colleague was okay. "Were you hurt?" Mel asked as Perlah sat down at the central hub. The nurse was, for some reason, laughing a little and shaking her head.
"We're going to need a two-people-at-all-times rule in that room, for God sake." Dana sighed as she grabbed her phone, likely using it to complain about the incident to Robby or someone upstairs.
"As far as Room 13 incidents go, that one was pretty funny." Perlah laughed again.
Mel felt Frank step next to her, who also laughed as he made eye contact with Perlah.
"Did she leave willingly?" Perlah asked with a laugh.
"Once Ahmed mentioned calling the cops she was in the first cab she could flag down." Frank chuckled as he moved his hair out of his face.
"OK, I'll bite." Cassie said as she slid up to the group. "What was so funny about that?" She asked, as she squinted her eyes.
"OK. The guy in thereāa magician by the wayāhad a hypoglycemic attack. The blonde lady in the red dress is his assistant. They seemed pretty friendly to me, but not romantic necessarily, like they weren't touchy with each other or anything. She just seemed a normal level of worried about him, like you would be for your boss, right?" Perlah explained.
Mel found herself enwrapped in the story now, too, and nodded along with the group that gathered to hear it.
"Then, the red-head ladyāthe wife!āwalks in and I don't think anything of it at first. But she's immediately angry, barking things like "Why weren't you checking your blood sugar?" and "Why do you have so many high heart rate notifications on your phone?" She just keeps asking all these questions that they're both awkwardly avoiding. Then she just straight up asks if they're having an affair." Perlah continued, stretching out the word "affair" for dramatic effect. Mel watched as Frank's throat bobbed as he gulped while listening.
"Without a beat, the husband goes "no! no!", and then he tells the wife that they were just you-knowing next to each other but didn't "actually touch each other" like that makes it any better! The wife goes insane, of course. Then the mistress or whatever runs out cryingāit wasn't funny, funnyābut I can't believe the husband actually thought that would work." Perlah said, shaking her head with a chuckle.
"That's disgusting." Victoria weighed in; she soured her face as she said it.
Jesse joined the conversation and shrugged. "I meanāI guess they weren't strictly cheating." He laughed, but everyone in the group silently stared until he made eye contact with Frank.
"I know Langdon agrees with me!" Jesse added.
Mel hates when they get into these sorts of debates. She finds it difficult to participateāor even understand why they want to debate these things. On all her school reports growing up, her teachers would always write, "Mel has a sensitive side, and she can become quite upset if she feels things are wrong." Over and over again, year after year, teacher after teacherāit'd be the same thing. Mel always knew she had a strong sense of justice. She also knew she was sometimes guilty of black-and-white thinking with no room for nuance, but she was getting better at it. She was beginning to think that seeing all these patients with complicated lives could shake up that kind of all-or-nothing thinking in anyone.
Frank, shook his head, which distracted Mel from her thoughts. She heard him laugh and shrug, too. "It's not strictly cheating, yeah." He smiled, which made Dana, Cassie and Victoria make a disgusted "ugh" sound towards Jesse and Frank.
"So if Abby came home and said she got off next to another guy, you'd just be like "cool, honey, you didn't cheat!"?" Donnie, who had also joined the conversation, asked.
Mel couldn't help but watch Frank's reaction. He rarely brings up Abby around her, and quickly changes the topic of conversation anytime anyone else does.
"I didn't say that!" Frank grinned as he threw his hands up in the air. "I'm just saying it's more of aā¦grey area. Like strictly in a court of lawāthe jury would find that he didn't touch her; therefore, did they really have an affair?" He added with a smirk. But Mel felt that he avoided eye contact with her as she stared at him, as if he didn't want to disappoint her with his opinion.
"I agree, the wife asked if he was having an affair, so he was technically right when he said no." Jesse laughed. Mel couldn't tell if he was trying to purposely get a rise out of everyone; Dana accused him of that more than once.
"You guys are so vulgar." Cassie rolled her eyes.
"It's a grey area," Frank repeated again with a shrug, opening another Red Bull. Then, he finally looked at Mel and smiled as he offered her a sip. Mel smiled back at him and shook her head. He always offers, but Mel only drinks energy drinks on the roughest of shifts.
Victoria watched the interaction and smiled back at the rest of the group. "What do you think, Mel?" She asked.
"About what?" Mel said, looking down at the ground. She wasn't purposely playing coy, but she didn't involve herself in the conversation before, and she doesn't really want to now.
"Do you think it's a 'grey area'?" Victoria asked, she quoted 'grey area' in a voice like Frank's, like she was poking fun at him.
"She doesn't have to answer that." Frank frowned and raised his a brow at Victoria.
Mel shook her head. "I don't knowāI've never really been in a relationship so I don't have much authority on the matter." She shrugged. "But strictly speaking, like if I was on a jury on the matter, I guess the patient wasn't completely wrong. He ultimately didn't touch her...I think there's a bit of a grey area there." She added.
She watched as Frank gulped and frowned as she finished her spielādid he not want her to agree with him?
"Don't side with the boys, Mel." Victoria complained, but Cassie and Dana eventually laughed and shrugged her off as the crowd of debaters dispersed.
"SorryāI didn't mean to get you roped into that." Frank whispered with a frown.
Mel met his eyes and smiled softly. "Don't be sorry! No one forced me to speak on it." She offered.
"Do you really think that? Or were you just backing me up?" Frank smirked. He leaned his back against the nurses' station. Mel winced when she heard it crack. It always stresses her out when he does this; she's convinced he's going to pull something or tweak his back in a bad way doing that.
"NoāI just happened to agree. I'm not saying the magician was completely in the right, but I don't know if he was completely wrong either." Mel explained.
"Jesus, I forgot that guy was a magician. Makes the whole thing even better." Frank laughed as he took another big swig of his drink and looked up at the board.
Mel felt herself staring at him. It's a bad habit, she knows it is. She thought it would've worn off by nowāthe crush she has on him. Even though 'crush' doesn't really feel like the right word. It sounds too juvenile. Too simple, really. It's not like she thinks she's in love with him either. She's just pretty sure he's the closest friend she's ever had, and that he's the most beautiful person she's ever seen in her lifeāso whatever the word for that is, that's what he is to her.
She watched as his head moved away from the board and his blue eyes darted back to her. A loose strand of hair followed. Her mouth twitched upwards in sync with his, and he showed his teeth to her. He's got one of those winning smiles; it could be annoying if it weren't so genuine.
She thinks it's almost as if he moves in slow motion when she watches him sometimes, like he could be one of those male models that would be in a perfume ad with someone like Keira Knightley, where they run through a beach or a museum and pretty music plays.
Sometimes she thinks it's impossible not to just marvel at himāshe's seen plenty of patients do it before. She's heard them whisper everything from "he's so handsome" to "I would ride him until I literally died". She's seen med students on rotation blush and giggle around him, regardless of their gender; it's like everyone wants him. He has a flirty personality, maybe, as far as Mel can tell. He flirts with almost everyone, she's pretty sure.
Trinity once told her he doesn't pay "special attention" to everyone, and wouldn't elaborate with more than an eye-roll and a comforting pat on her back when Mel asked what she meant by that.
"Can I ask you something?" Mel enquired; she wanted her tone to sound confident, but she's pretty sure it doesn't come out that way.
"Anything." Frank smiled down at her.
"Did you mean it when you said you wouldn't care if Abby didāshe gestures her eyes back to room 13āthat with someone else?" Mel whispered. She's not really sure why she asked; the conversation really should've been over and done with. But there's something in her, the endlessly curious version of herself, that has to push, has to know.
Frank's eyebrows raised as she asked the question. His eyes bulged a little, and he shook his head. "Um." He gulped. "Well, I wouldn't love it, if she did that with someone. But hey, I guess I'd be happy one of us was getting off. We haven't had sex in well over a year." He sighed and pursed his lips in a downward frown.
Mel accidentally opened her mouth in a silent gasp. They don't discuss his marriage very often, other than the odd time that Frank will confess they had a fight or that he did something with the kids that Abby didn't approve of. It's not like she's spent significant time thinking about Frank's sex life within his marriage, but she wouldn't have guessed at what he just confessed to.
Mel's lack of response and the probable shocked expression on her faceāwhich she really does try not to make obviousāled Frank to close his eyes and wince. "Sorry. Probably shouldn't have said that." Frank added quietly. She could've sworn there was even a slight blush on his cheeks.
"Why?" Mel gulped. She doesn't really know she felt the need to continue this conversation, but there's a part of her that can't help it. She made a mental note to check if she's ovulating on her cycle tracker app.
"Well, HR would probably frown on it." Frank chuckled. He smiled at her with the soft, gentle grin that he always saves for her.
"I thought we were more than just co-workers." Mel shrugged and added a grin herself, but Frank took in a deep breath when she spoke and furrowed his brows at her.
"We're friends." She added with a small smile to try and resolve the worried expression on his face.
Frank smiled again and nodded. "I guess friends can talk about these things." He said, cautiously.
"And friends do things for each other, right?" Mel replied. She regretted it the moment she said it as she watched his face fall. His eyeballs bulged too, like he was somehow in immediate pain.
"Melā" He started, in his quiet, sweet way, before she cut him off.
"Remember I mentioned my smoke detector was beeping? Do you think you could change the batteries for me? My landlord is still being useless about it, and I can't reach up to it." Mel chirped up, smiling and bouncing on her tiptoes.
"Sure." Frank smiled softly. Mel thought she could see a look of relief flood his face, which she tried not to overthink.
"I can follow you home after our shift finishes tonight?" He said, then winced. "That sounded creepier than I was intending." He added. That got a giggle out of Mel.
"That works for me." Mel grinned. The smoke alarm thing was genuine. The beeping had been driving her crazy and keeping her up all night for a week. But a part of her just wanted to spend a little more time with him. 12 hours (plus plenty of overtime) is never enough to get her fill of him. She knows it's wrong to take this man away from his wife and kids to go to her home, but she wants him there.
It's all innocent, at least. It's just changing batteries. So she tries her best to ignore the swirling guilty feeling that builds in her stomach when she pictures the image of Frank standing in her apartment.
"I have a little step stool, if you need it." Mel says, watching as Frank inspects the beeping, high-pitched noise the smoke detector at the top of her stairs makes.
"It's alright." Frank huffs. "I can reach."
Mel tries to keep her jaw shut as she watches him. He's a little sweaty and breathing through his mouth as he reaches up on tiptoes and uses a screwdriver to open the smoke detector cover. His position is making his white t-shirt slide up his stomach, and Mel can see the hair that trails down to the waistband of his Calvin Klein's. She's determined to commit this look to memory. She literally stares, then closes her eyes like she's taking a literal mental picture with her brain. She wants to remember how he huffs his breath and sticks out his tongue in concentration as he works.
"Can you hand me that?" He asks, breaking Mel out of her trance. Her eyes fall on the new battery, and she hands it over, letting her skin meet his warm hand. He's always so warmāso physically hot.
"Your hand is freezing." He notes, smiling before he returns his focus to the smoke detector.
"I know. I don't even have an iron deficiency or anything, I get that checked when I donate blood. I'm just naturally cold-blooded, I guess." Mel shrugs.
Frank laughs, softly. "You're the furthest thing from cold-blooded, Mel." He adds, leaning back to examine his handiwork on the alarm.
"I'm going to press the tester button now to make sure it works. It's gonna be really loud if you wanna put your AirPods in or something?" Frank says. It almost makes her want to cry. She's never had someone in her life so considerate of her feelingsā¦and her oddities. Never. And he does it so casually, like he doesn't realise it means more to her than she could ever even explain.
"Yeah, actually I'd like that if you don't mind. Find me in the living room after?" Mel smiles.
"Deal." Frank grins as he watches her pop her AirPods in and walk to the living room.
Mel puts them into noise cancellation mode and selects a rainforest playlist to listen to. She settles on the couch and closes her eyes, just barely hearing the faint buzz of Frank testing the smoke detector upstairs.
She doesn't exactly mean to, but the vision comes to her. Frank's arms reaching up and changing the batteries. His biceps. Jesus. She doesn't know how he finds the time to work on them.
His hands are beautiful, too. Mel has caught herself staring at them more times than she'd like to admit. She's studied the blue veins that trail across them. She's found the calloused marks on his fingers that have come from using his hands every day.
His stomachāparticularly the hair across his stomach. It's, quite literally, made for him. Mel couldn't imagine a world where Frank was hairless on his chest. It wouldn't be right. She's thankful for whatever higher power intervened in the creation of him and added all the hair.
It feels wrong to be thinking of him, like this, while he does a favour in her home for her. It feels even more wrong when Mel starts to feel her heartbeat settle between her thighs and a familiar urge to part them. It's what she's trying to suppress when she feels Frank's hand waving very close to her face, not quite touching, but making a cool breeze of air against her skin.
"Oh." She says, removing her AirPods and looking at his smiling face. He has his hands on his hips, too, which Mel finds weirdly attractive, then she tries to ignore that thought.
"You okay?" He asks. "Sorry if the noise bothered you. I tried to be quick." He says, gritting his teeth.
"I'm great. I barely heard it." Mel replies, trying to avoid his eye contact. It's so intense to have him above her as she sits below him. He looks like an ancient statue of some kind.
"You want a soda? Becca makes me keep Dr Pepper cans here. Tastes like metal to me." Mel offers, standing up so she makes level eye contact with him. That's slightly easier to manage.
"Sure." Frank smiles, collapsing on her couch. His legs go all the way under her coffee table, like he's a comically large giant in her comparably tiny home. Mel skips over to the kitchen before she can linger on the image too much.
She smiles politely as she hands him the can, then questions whether she should sit next to him on the couch or find another spot to sit. She decides not to make it weird and settles next to him.
Mel folds herself against the edge of the couch but because Frank is so spread outāhe never seems to grasp the concept of personal spaceātheir outer thighs are making contact. The closeness makes energy rush between Mel's legs again. It spreads dangerous happy hormones to her brain that make her speak without thinking, makes her say things like "So you and Abby really haven't had sex in over a year?" out loud.
Fuck, she really said that out loud.
Frank immediately chokes a little on his Dr Pepper and looks at her with his mouth agape. "Melā¦ I don't know if we should talk about that." He finally says.
Mel hangs her head a little. "Why not?" She asks quietly. "Don't you want toā¦get off?" She adds, before she can stop herself.
Frank gulps and Mel thinks for a second that he looks like he could devour her. "I do." He whispers, like he's unsure of this whole conversation topic.
"Don't youā¦touch yourself? Just touch yourself. It's okay." Mel shrugs. She doesn't know what has come over her.
"Melā" He protests, but Mel sits up on her knees in front of him.
"Please, Dr Langdon. You said it yourselfāit's not really wrong. We're just friends. It's just two friends getting off, right?" She asks with a desperate frown.
Frank takes a deep breath as he takes her words in. "I said it's a grey areaā¦ it's all a technicality." He sighs.
Mel flops him away from his view and gets back into a sitting position. "Sorry. It's okay if you don't want to." She whispers, desperate not to cry in front of him. Our friendship is over. She thinks. I always push it too far. I always push people away like this.
Before she can spiral anymore, Frank is right next to her face with his hands on her knees. "Of course I want to. Jesus, Mel, this is like the theme of every wet dream I've had about you for months." He says, as Mel finally looks into his eyes.
"I justā¦ I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do. I don't want to corrupt you, I guess." He shrugs, taking in a big, deep breath through his nose.
Mel shakes her head in confusion. "You're not corrupting me. I asked you, Langdon." She says. They both stay silent for a beat. "You're not making me do anything, it's kind of the opposite, actually. My whole life, I've done what my parents asked me to do in order to care for Becca. Then care for my parents themselves when they were sick. Then care for Becca full time when they were both dead. I justā¦ I want to do something for myself for once. I want to be selfish for once." She adds, feeling her skin start to melt under the weight of his hands on her knee.
Frank nods, maybe even smiles a little, then leans back, removing his hand from her knee. "You're right. You're just touching yourself and I'm just touching myself. And we just happen to be next to each other. There's nothing wrong with that, right?" He says quietly.
"Right." Mel says, and she can't help but smile a little.
"So touch yourself." He whispers, his eyes roaming down her body. "Touch yourself." He repeats.
Mel nods and slowly slips a hand down her leggings and in front of her underwear, running her palm against her already soaking centre.
She makes eye contact with Frank as he watches her with undivided attention then nods, mostly to himself, like he's giving himself permission to give in. His fingers find the button on his jeans which releases with an audible 'pop' and the sound of his zipper quickly follows. His legs wiggle out of his jeans and he throws his socks off too before he strokes himself over his boxers.
"Is that how you touch yourself when you're alone?" He says, very quietly. Mel has continued to tease herself over her underwear this whole time but breaks concentration to shake her head.
"I'll usually get naked." She answers.
"Then get naked." He shrugs, like it's the most simple thing in the world.
So she slides her leggings down, follows his lead and throws off her fluffy socks, shakes her t-shirt over her headāher sports bra goes with it too. She stares at him, only in her panties, as he throws off his shirt too so he's only in his boxers.
"That's not naked." He says, flippantly.
"You're not naked either." She says, in a tone that kind of shocks herself. She sounds like a brat. She doesn't know what's come over her, but it only makes Frank tilt his head up at the ceiling and crack a big smile.
"I guess not." He smiles, and rolls his boxers down his hips. Mel physically gasps when she sees his hard length spring free from the tight constraints of his boxers. Then she feels embarrassed, but he grins smugly.
He's huge. Bigger than anything she's seen on any cadaver or patient she's ever worked on. On par with actual porn stars she's seen on videos late at night. And he knows it, obviously, and he grins while tugging at the pink, needy tip, already leaking pre-cum.
She's almost glad they're just sitting next to each other and touching themselves tonight, because she's genuinely not sure if she could handle all that inside her.
She doesn't get another second to contemplate before Frank makes eye contact with her. "You've seen mine, now show me yours." He winks, which makes her want to melt in the best way.
Mel closes her eyes and she slides her practical purple underwear down her legs. She parts her legs, just a little, and strokes her clit once again. "Perfect. Perfect." Frank remarks, like he's saying it to himself.
Frank stops for a second and wrestles with his wedding ring, for once stuck firmly in place on his finger, like he's going to slide it off. "No. No. Please, Dr Langdon, don't take the ring off. If you take the ring offā¦it means we're doing something wrong. And we're not doing anything wrong, right?" She says, as if she isn't in front of him, getting wetter and wetter as she teases her own clit.
Frank hesitates, frowns and then nods. "You're right." He huffs, and goes back to stroking himself.
"But no more of this Dr Langdon stuff, please, Mel. Call me Frank, at least for tonight, call me Frank." He whines, going between staring at her face and what her fingers are doing.
"It feels too intimate." Mel protests with a frown.
"Please." He wobbles. He really does sound desperate. And it's totally normal for friends to call each other by their first names, everyone in work calls her Mel, after all.
"OK. Frank. I'll give you that." Mel says, her breathing becoming a little more erratic as her other hand has found itself teasing her nipples.
"Fuck. I love hearing you say that." He hums, quickening how strokes himself. She watches as he sticks out his tongue a little, something she's seen him do many times while deep in focus in work. It makes her lean up against the edge of the sofa and spread her legs a little more. She's sure he can see just how wet she is. A slick glistening is probably settling between her thighs.
"Frank." She repeats, in a low, breathy tone, which seems to excitedly spur him on.
She finally lets herself give in, and places two fingers inside herself, stretching her own thumb to continue to pat against her clit. He turns to face her, and his skin goes pale then back to pink as he watches her.
He audibly moans then, which makes her do the same. For a while they sit like that, in perfect tandem. Every stroke she makes with her fingers, he makes with his hand. For every moan she releases from her throat, he lets out a similar groan or whimper. Every bead of sweat, every lift of their hips, every breath, in sync. Eyes on each other. It's like they're doing some kind of fucked up pre-choreographed dance. But they're not, it's all second nature to them, like it always has been.
It oddly reminds Mel of doing a procedure in work. It comes so naturally to them, like the first STEMI they did together. Their like a mirror to one each other. You move, I move.
She knows where his hands are going before he moves them, he knows what tool she's about to reach forā¦the paper she's about to reference when discussing a patient's care. She's never had that sort of relationship with anyone before him. And she's pretty sure he hasn't either, not even with wife.
By the time Mel is so desperately wet that she can hear the sounds of her pussy every time she moves her fingers and she's moaning so loudly she's almost shocked it's her making these noises, Frank's mouth opens wide as he stares at her.
"I wish I could cum on you." He announces, in a tone that almost sounds like he's in pain.
"But that'd be cheating." They both say in sync, which makes them both release a bout of nervous laughter. We're perfect for each other. Mel thinks, then tries to drown it out.
"But I wish you could too." She admits with a desperate whine, closing her eyes tightly as she feels the familiar closeness of her orgasm reach the nerve endings of her clit.
"I wish I could finish inside you." He counters, tugging on his cock so roughly that Mel almost wonders if he's hurting himself.
"You can't talk like that." She whines.
"Why not?" He huffs, exasperated, staring into her eyes.
"Because we're just friends." She hums then swallows down a gulp.
Frank tugs himself more frantically, and Mel swipes at her clit more quickly, biting her lip as Frank turns his head to her again.
"We're more than friends and you know it." He hums. Mel lets out a desperate moan that she's not sure was meant in protest or agreement and it's not a second later that they both finally cum.
Mel's orgasm comes in quick, spirited gushes and for a second she thinks it might never end as she feels the beating aftershocks in her core.
She's sure it might never end as she leaks around her fingers and Frank whispers a string of pretty phrasesā"that's it, baby", "let go for me", "you look so fucking good right now."
Frank cums hard and fast against his own hand and across his stomach. There's so much cum, it even covers his wedding ring.
Mel wishes more than anything that could've been inside her, but she's not a cheater. She's not the other woman. They're just friends, still just great friends, according to any court of law or character witnesses. Mel and Frank? Just really close friends.
That's what she repeats in her head over and over again as he reaches over for tissues to clean himself up, gets his clothes back on and kisses the top of her head with a quiet and simple "goodbye sweetheart."
"I can't believe you've let this debate carry on to day two." Cassie huffs, after Jesse brings up the magician and the whole debate again. Mel thinks the same as Cassie as she feels Frank skin burn and his face turn red next to her.
"You know I might be changing my position on the whole thing, actually." He remarks.
"What?" Frank says, his head tilting in confusion.
"I spoke to Chris about it last night and he brought up a good point. Was it only the getting off next to each other or was there an emotional aspect to it? Because it's kinda more intimate than sex, in a way." Jesse says with a shrug.
Mel takes a small step away from Frank in a motion that she tries to not make obvious.
"If I found out Chris was having an emotional affair it'd probably hurt more than if he just got off next to someone. Hell, even if he had sex with them. Like if he had inside jokes with someone else, laughed with someone else, had deep conversations with someone else. Relying on someone else to get through his days at workā¦yeah that'd kill me. So I guess I'm only standing with the magician if it was just a purely sexual release." Jesse laughs, throwing his hands in the air.
Everyone else goes on to debate about something else but Mel and Frank just stare at each other. Their skin is mutually flushed and they have a guilty look on both their faces.
and then i got distracted and didn't even go in the drafts at all. it's crowded in there, i know for sure. tomorrow i'll be super extra annoying i promise <3
hi sorry for being late, Iāve been away from tumblr for a while, but i love my name inside your voice and rank frank are my favorites, though you never miss.
also for the fic writer ask game, 20, 8 (for the above two), and 7
why hello loki, it's so wonderful to see you<3
i feel like i love my name inside your voice seems to be a favorite, which makes my heart so incredibly happy. i mean, i'm happy anyone likes any of my fics, as someone who overthinks everything to the nth degree. it just makes me very proud, i think. you're so incredibly sweet!!! xx
okay, for the asks. let's do this
20 -> answer any one of the other questions that you want to! i'm choosing this one -> are there any songs you want to write a songfic for?
-> yes, and i'm kind of doing that at the moment. lonely heart by 5sos. a very heavy melmisery fic, focusing on her isolation and emptiness as a child that bleeds into young adulthood and her blossoming friendship (and more) with frank. it's probably going to be my longest, angstiest fic and i'm really excited for it. i mean, it's really a love letter to both kingdon and the album (CALM) as a whole, but lonely heart is just very mel-coded to me. and gut-wrenchingly beautiful.
8. what part of i love my name inside your voice and rank frank is your favorite? (mild spoilers for those who may not have read these fics)
-> for ILMNIYV, i think my favorite part is just frank overall. it was my first real shot at trying to write soft dom! frank and i think (hope) i did a decent job. but i also like that they communicate. don't get me wrong, i love heat-of-the-moment sex and a good scoop of miscommunication but writing mel's complex emotions about losing her virginity and frank setting very clear boundaries about avoiding any gray areas / murky stuff was just. i don't know. i loved writing it overall. the misunderstanding bit was silly but i believe i wove it in somewhat naturally lol. for RF, i think my favorite part is how frank just spirals. i mean, he's so against the entire arrangement for so long and tries to ward off his feelings for mel to the point that everything just explodes. the whole Big Final Scene with frank and mel and the way things fall with abby is just very precious to me. i wanted to make frank malicious as fuck, originally, but i'm a big softie, so.
7. is there a fic you wish you received feedback on, but didn't get any/much?
-> i think i've gotten some pretty significant feedback on a majority of my fics but i will say, i don't mean to sound rude but i think people are sort of scared/nervous to be critical even though i always ask for it. if my sentence structure sounds off, say something! if i use a word too much, say something!!! it really does not bother me and i love it. i will say i do get less engagement when the fic isn't rated mature or explicit, but that's not something that irks me. i won't yuck anyone's yum or whatever yk.
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"There are hundreds of stories about the acts of gods and heroes. Epics about how they shaped the world, comedy and tragedy dancing with one another in the same tale.
Everyone wants to hear stories of such great figures.
Much rarer are the stories of nymphs.
And rarer still are those about nymphs that donāt find themselves to be a tragedy."
OR
Mel is a dryad drawn out into a world larger than herself when the beloved daughter of Demeter is stolen away under her nose. With no answers and a clock ticking down until her mother finds out about her disappearance, Mel must leave her comfortable grove and find her before it's too late. No matter the personal cost.
Most people I know had that one movie as a kid; that one movie that they would watch over and over and over to the resigned acceptance of their parents. Iāve always thought that movie says something about a person. What was your movie?
