hi! i don't want to make my tumblr look nice so i'm making this pinned post instead :)
i'm julie (they/them) & triple A: ace, agender, & ADHD 😎 but also a lesbian and a wife guy ✌️ we also have 2 dogs whom we love dearly 🥰
i've been on and off tumblr since high school, just back for the pitt now, but previous/background interests include buffy, the raven cycle, bbc merlin, check please, nothing much to do/lovely little losers, and most shows that were popular on tumblr in 2012 (although shockingly not supernatural).
i do NOT give permission for my fic, past, present, and future, to be posted on other platforms, including goodreads or other external sites, or to be shared with actors/writers/people outside fandom. i do not use AI nor i do consent for my work to be fed to AI. i create free works for fandom and none of my work should be involved in anything that generates a profit. [adapted from @avocado-moon's pinned post]
some tags if you want to check them out (or mute them, idk):
#asks, #kingdon, #about me, #personal, #my writing, #my art - what it says on the tin
#wife guy 😎 - posts about/mentioning my wonderful wife 😍
#dtp - posts specific to do the panic & its extended universe
#co-teacher au - posts specific to emotional consonance (fka the chemicals between us) & its extended universe
#about the bugs - posts about about the bugs & alphabet
#we're starting to believe! - posts about my wife & i watching the x files for the first time
#soccer posting on main - posts about LA COPA MUNDIALLLLL
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txf s6 e16 this episode has been one of the most confusing to me because i have not felt like i am seeing the same things that the characters are between karin and mulder??? she does not seem "enamored" by him? if anything he seems into her. weird weird vibes
Frank is so excited to bring his amazing new friend Mel home to meet his family. In his mind, the evening went great, Abby loved her, even Abby’s mom liked her, and so he’s really confused when Mel dodges any future invites he extends.
When he eventually straight up asks her why, she takes him aside in the fanfiction corridor and asks him: “If you went over to someone’s house and they were beating their dog, but the dog kept wagging its tail because it doesn’t know what’s happening to it is wrong… you’d still have to save the dog, right? You can’t keep going over there and let it happen?”
“Is someone hurting our dog?” He asks, horrified.
Mel makes a pained face. “You’re the dog in this metaphor, Frank.”
T (?) | 1.8k | pre-kingdon, langdon & javadi friendship | discussion of omegaverse
One of the only nice parts of the timing of Frank’s return to the Pitt was that he’d been basically free the entire month of June, which meant he got to actually watch the World Cup for the first time since college. He’d tried to get Tanner and Penny in on it, too, but their interest only lasted until the Netherlands got knocked out.
(Despite Frank’s attempts to get Tanner to choose a team based on anything substantial, he’d taken one look at the neon orange jerseys and declared them the best team of all time. Frank’s hoping Tanner will move on before the Euros. Langdon complexions aren’t built for orange.)
Being back in the Pitt means that he finally feels like he’s actually doing something helpful, doing something he’s good at, for the first time in months, though, so he barely mourns the fact that he won’t be able to watch games as much anymore. It’s made easier each shift as he finds his rhythm with more and more of his colleagues: self-deprecating jokes about being an old man to Javadi (mixed in with sly allusions to Dr. J), open-ended questions to Whitaker (when he isn’t running around frantically), offers to show Emma pictures of his kids while fending off her offers to babysit.
Luckily, his social media algorithms have all deduced he’s all in on the World Cup, so at the very least he stays up-to-date. He follows along on the will-they/won’t-they reversal of Ballogun’s red card and still gets the best memes, even if he’s a few hours delayed. (The best English language memes, that is. He’s been told the Brazilian memes are the actual best.)
It’s this confluence of factors that leads Frank to seeing a tweet that will haunt him forever.
(continued below or read on ao3)
Actually, that first tweet is more confusing than anything; the haunting part is more what he learns, sees, and reads when he turns to Google to figure out what about pheromones could possibly have led Norway to losing the game. For some reason, he just keeps falling down the rabbit hole, unable to tear his eyes away from the corner of the internet he’s inadvertently stumbled upon: Yaoi. RPF. Omegaverse. Mpreg?
He finds himself watching a TikTok edit about Bellingham and Haaland that’s honestly pretty compelling before he snaps out of it.
He’s trying not to be judgmental—something he’s had a lot of practice working on over the past year—and he’s reminding himself not to yuck other people’s yums or whatever, but it’s just...a lot. It’s completely different from how he engages with sports and celebrities and even characters. He wonders how many other people are wandering about with this framework in their head. Is this supposed to be a fight club situation? Is the first rule of reading the omegaverse Wikipedia page to never tell anyone you’ve read it?
Whatever. It’s really not his business.
---
Except....maybe it is his business if it means a new way to mess with Javadi.
It only occurs to him when he walks by her during a lull and catches a glimpse of her phone screen.
A week ago, what he saw on her phone would have meant nothing to him. Now, however, he’s a man of the world, so he knows what that red little scribble in the lefthand corner means: Javadi is an AO3 user. Not only that, but she’s an AO3 reader to the extent that she’s actively on it at work. In an emergency room.
He can work with that.
His opportunity presents itself later in the day, during another slow moment. Javadi is leaning against the Hub, scrolling on her phone again. Mel is charting at a computer nearby, but all the other nurses and doctors are on the other side of the Hub, listening to Santos regale them with some story about Whitaker’s ineptitude as a roommate.
Frank sidles up next to Javadi, resting his forearms on the counter and knocking into her shoulder companionably. She locks her phone frantically.
“Hey, Dr. J,” Frank says, tone deceptively friendly. “I saw something online the other day that confused me. I figured my favorite Gen Zer could help clear it up.”
Javadi rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Who let you on the internet? You should use your kids’ tablets so that safe search is on.”
Frank huffs a laugh.
“Uh, excuse you, we’re extremely careful about Tanner and Penny’s screentime. They don’t have tablets.”
Javadi’s smile becomes more real, the way it does every time he does something that reveals him to be more than just an asshole with a drug problem.
“Anyway, have you been following the World Cup at all?”
Javadi grimaces.
“I was following it until the people’s princesses got eliminated.” At Frank’s blank look, she continues, “Cape Verde? The only reason to care?” She kisses her fingers and points upwards. “We’ll never forget you, Vozinha.”
That was a lot more than Frank anticipated.
“Valid,” he chuckles. “Do you know anything about the England-Norway game the other day?”
Javadi’s eyes fly open in poorly concealed panic. Bingo.
She shrugs, trying to look casual as she starts to spin her phone around on the counter in front of them.
“Uhh, just that there was the Viking rowing thing, and that one guy looked like Shrek.”
“Haaland?”
Frank pauses to consider this. He wouldn’t have compared him to Shrek necessarily, but he sees where she’s coming from. Regardless, that’s the perfect segue for him.
“That’s actually what I wanted to ask about. So I saw this tweet—” Javadi’s nose wrinkles in distaste. “—yeah, I know, fuck Elon, it’s a cesspool of white supremacist bullshit, but it’s also where all my favorite sports journalists are, sooo—”
“I bet they’re on Bluesky,” Mel pipes up.
He didn’t even know she’d been listening; she’s been typing the entire time he’s been here.
...Not that he was watching her or anything.
“Uh, maybe,” Frank allows, thrown. “I guess I should check.”
Mel nods with a pleased smile.
“Anyway, I saw this tweet saying that Haaland didn’t score against England because of Jude Bellingham’s pheromones and because he didn’t want to make his omega sad. Do you know what the fuck any of that means?”
He wishes he had a camera to capture the journey Javadi’s face goes on. First, eyes the widest he’s ever seen. (And that’s saying something: he’s seen her eyes go pretty wide before.) Then, her entire face scrunches up, like she’s tasted something unbelievably sour or she’s dealing with the worst brain freeze of all time. She squints at him for a second and then scrunches her face back up, eyes clamped shut as she shakes her head a little. She slowly opens her eyes, barely more than her previous squint, while her lips are fixed in a moue of displeasure. She opens her mouth for a moment, like she’s going to talk, then snaps it shut. Her hands find the back of her neck in a move that’s more something he would expect from Mel than from her.
He’s starting to feel a little bad—it seems like this might be causing her, like, psychological damage, not just embarrassment—but Mel unexpectedly chimes in before he can backtrack.
“Oh! I know this one!”
Frank looks over at Mel. Her hands have paused on the keyboard, and she’s smiling brightly up at him, the complete opposite of Javadi’s slow-motion horror.
“That is a reference to something called omegaverse, which is a genre—subgenre, maybe?—of fiction, generally fanfiction that introduces specific dynamics and physiological changes derived from werewolf fantasy stories.”
Javadi’s eyes widen again, her mouth dropping open in a look of panic.
“It’s based extremely loosely on wolf dynamics, but it’s often used in erotic writing as a way to amplify sensory experiences for those involved.”
Mel pauses, her eyebrows creasing thoughtfully. Javadi makes a high-pitched noise not unlike a squeak.
“I guess I should back up. Do you know what fanfiction is, Dr. Langdon?”
Frank’s mouth has fallen open at some point in Mel’s spiel. He clears his throat, not trusting his voice.
Javadi glances around, but Frank can’t tell if it’s because she wants another witness to whatever the hell is happening here or if it’s because she wants to ensure nobody else can hear. Everyone is still across the Hub, so she’s on her own.
“Uh, yeah, it’s when people write stories about characters from shows and books and stuff, right?”
Mel nods enthusiastically.
“Oh my God,” Javadi whispers beside him, her hands coming up to cover her face as her eyes flick between the two of them.
“There’s a misconception that fanfiction is just erotica, but a lot of it is character studies or opportunities for fans to explore universes they love. Omegaverse is definitely more about smut, though, since the physiological changes include things like self-lubrication and the ability of cis men to get pregnant.”
“Nope, I can’t,” Javadi says, throwing up her hands and speed walking away.
She leaves her phone behind, the clearest sign of a Javadi in distress that Frank can imagine.
“What was the tweet you saw, Dr. Langdon?” Mel asks him earnestly. “I might be able to help explain what they meant if you tell me more about the two players involved. Is one of them more—meek or submissive?”
She frowns a little, unhappy with herself.
“I mean. Does one of them come off that way? While the other is assertive or protective?”
Frank swallows and clears his throat before responding. Against his will, his brain flashes back to the TikTok edit that showed Haaland sprinting up to an opposing player who knocked Bellingham down.
“Uh, yeah, exactly.”
Mel nods, looking pleased.
“It sounds like there’s a fandom that ships those two players, then.” She blinks at him. “That means they think those two players should have a romantic or sexual relationship. Omegaverse is usually kind of niche, so I’m surprised it came across your Twitter out of the blue.”
Frank nods, drumming his fingers against the counter. This plan has gone completely sideways.
“Got it. Thanks for filling me in, Mel.”
Mel brightens.
“Anytime, Dr. Langdon! I know I’m out of the loop on a lot of online trends and popular media, but feel free to come to me with questions about fanfiction or fandom anytime, even the erotic side. I’m pretty familiar with a lot of it.”
Even the erotic side. Jesus Christ.
“Sounds good, Mel.”
Frank backs away from the counter, inexplicably shooting Mel finger guns—which makes her pretend to get hit and flop back in the chair before perking back up with another devastating smile—before he turns tail and flees to the bathroom.
It’s karma. It has to be karma or some cosmic joke, that his attempt to mess with Javadi instead has him trying and failing not to imagine why Mel is pretty familiar with fandom, even the erotic side.
But hey—maybe he can work with this, too. Maybe she’d like that TikTok edit.
txf s6e15 the range of this show is hysterical. e14 was unbelievably heartwrenching and intense and now i'm in a fanfic. what do you MEAN they're UNDERCOVER IN A PLANNED COMMUNITY as a MARRIED COUPLE
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@kingdonmicrofic | july 18: parade | 500/347 words | warnings: none | ao3
“Do you think this is a good picture for my Tinder profile?”
Mel looks up from her phone in slight alarm as Frank holds up his own to her face. They’re sitting on her couch, his legs spread out beneath him while hers are curled up against her chest. They’ve been hanging out in silence until he decided to drop that bomb.
“You’re creating a Tinder profile?” she asks, feeling slightly embarrassed at the wariness in her tone, but he doesn’t seem to notice it, just shrugging in response.
“It’s been a while since the divorce, and I think I’m ready to move on,” he says, and there’s something unreadable in his expression as he stares at her. “I guess this is the first step, right?”
She feels slightly disappointed, maybe even a little heartbroken at the idea, but she covers it up with a smile as she grabs the phone from him.
Looking at the picture, she purses her lips and frowns, before shaking her head. “This is blurry and half of your face is cut off. Also, there’s a stain on your shirt.”
Frank groans playfully, before reaching behind her and tugging at her braid. “Way to rain on my parade, King.”
Swatting his hand away from her, she hands him back his phone. “Sorry, it’s the truth.”
Looking down at the photo again, Frank grimaces. “No, you’re right. It’s just difficult to find a picture without my children or which isn’t my PTMC headshot.”
“Wait, I might have one,” Mel says, quickly swiping through her own phone to find the picture. Her heart aches a little as she texts it to him, because it’s her contact photo for him, a photo she cherishes a lot. Part of her feels possessive of that picture and doesn’t want to share it with other women. But it is a good one.
He’s sitting on this very couch in it, his dog next to him, a hand behind his head and a bright smile on his face as he stares at someone behind the camera – at her. His shirt is riding up slightly, revealing his happy trail. He looks gorgeous.
She watches him carefully as he stares at the photo silently, thoughtfully, and fidgeting a little, she tells him, “Trust me on this one, the ladies will all swipe right.”
He looks up at her, indecipherable expression on his face again as he moves a little closer to her. His eyes flick to her lips as he asks, “Would you swipe right?”
Feeling her face heat up immediately, she lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t have Tinder.”
Frank hums in response, and she notices there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes as he murmurs coarsely, “You should get it. I’d swipe right on you.”
Cheeks still flushed, she rolls her eyes playfully, before averting her gaze and turning back to her own phone.
As she does, she doesn’t notice that he closes the app and deletes it off his phone.
hey team how concerned do you think we should be about the fact that i have over 40 bug bites on one foot/ankle and it's been three days and they're not going down. like. scale of 1-10 how worried should we be
Frank's pinky is resting against Mel's thigh--Mel's exposed thigh--and she is not moving away.
She wears shorts to the PTMC's softball game, just like every other person around them, but this is Mel, who, until now, he's only seen in scrub pants. While his hand habitually presses into her back at work whenever he squeezes past her, a clothed barrier always prevented any heat from heading south. So this is the first actual touch of her skin that he feels he doesn't have a right to, and she's still letting him, trusting him, the thought of which only makes him harder, like he's some damn pervert, and--
"Langdon, you're up," Robby grunts.
Oh, he's up alright. How the hell is he supposed to stand right now? There's so many people waiting out in the bleachers, a majority of whom he needs to impress if he has any hopes of getting an attending position someday.
Mel suddenly shifts and points her knees towards him, which slides multiple of his fingers to an even higher spot on the back of her thigh, right at the edge of her shorts. He's--he's basically touching her ass--
"Batter up!" she pipes at him with a giggle.
He strikes out with a full erection shoved into the waistband of his pants. The crowd does not go wild.
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last fall, in a group text, i started kingdon au of the day where i would share plot bunny ideas i didn't have the time/energy/desire to write, free for anyone to take and develop on their own. if you read a kingdon au of the day post and say, "oh! i want to write that!" feel free to take it! credit is not needed but always appreciated :)
The call came in from the league's front office. It apparently wasn't ideal for one of the core faces of the league—if State Farm commercials, Gatorade sponsorship deals, and a MVP finalist bid last season were anything to go by—to fail a randomized drug test after a post-failed playoff run and then immediately go off the grid and enter a messy divorce. “Image rehab,” they said. So the league called the Steelers general manager, who called the head coach and the community outreach team, who then called a contact at Middle Hill Creative Center for Adults.
They’ve been looking for a volunteer coach for their four-week flag football summer league. Would line up perfectly with the start of training camp. Get your face back out there. Show people you’re still a good guy.
Frank didn’t think that was him anymore, and yet…he says yes, and there’s a prickling feeling in the back of his neck that something’s about to change.
(or: NFL Pro Bowl quarterback Frank coaches Becca’s team at the center…meets Mel…falls in love…and she gets the family she’s always wanted in the form of fifty overzealous and energetic football WAGs.)
@kingdonmicrofic | july 16: glitter | 499/227 words | warnings: none | ao3
“Woah, what happened to you?”
At Ellis’s outburst, Mel turns away from her locker and then quickly turns back to hide the laugh that threatens to bubble out of her at the sight of Langdon. She’s lucky she’s not on shift with him today, she thinks, because she doesn’t think she’d be able to concentrate at all.
Of course, he always makes it hard for her to concentrate with those eyes and those arms, but today’s distraction is very different in nature. Today, he’s distracting because it is impossible to take him seriously with his face, hair and hands all completely covered in glitter.
Behind her, Langdon groans in embarrassment. “I did some arts and crafts with Penny and we had a little accident.”
The last word is hissed and Mel hides her smile behind her hand as Ellis lets out an amused snort. “Yeah, I figured.”
“It doesn’t wash off at all either. I’ve showered three times and I still look like this, and since I’m trying to learn to embrace my imperfections, I’ve come to accept that this is my life now.”
From the corner of her eye, Mel can see Ellis look at Langdon warily for a second before crossing her arms over her chest. “Therapy’s done a real number on you, huh?”
Langdon hums in agreement, and Ellis laughs and shakes her head in response. “Well, at least it’ll be a fun shift.”
She laughs again at the middle finger Langdon sends her, before turning to Mel and nodding at her. “Have a good night, King!”
With that, she’s gone, leaving Mel and Langdon alone in the locker room. Mel still doesn’t face him, but she can hear him move until he’s leaning on the locker next to hers, letting out another groan.
“I feel so embarrassed,” he whines, and this time, Mel lets out the giggle she’s been holding in as she turns to him.
“Don’t be, it’s cute,” she blurts before she can think it over and she feels her cheeks heating up as he raises an eyebrow in response, a smirk forming on his lips and an amused twinkle appearing in his eyes.
“Cute?” he repeats, and averting her gaze again, Mel shrugs.
“Well, yeah, you look like this because you’re a good dad who loves his daughter and wanted to spend quality time with her. I think that’s sweet.”
When she looks back up at him again, his smirk has morphed into something more gentle, his face flushed slightly like hers. Running a glittery hand through his glittery hair, he chuckles. “I guess that’s true.”
“You do look a little ridiculous, though,” she teases him, and Langdon’s responding laughter sounds genuine, as if he’s only now truly accepting the hilarity of the situation.
“But cute?” he prods, earnestness in both his gaze and his voice, and combined with all the glitter, she can’t help but feel completely and utterly endeared by him.
@kingdonmicrofic day 17: crowd - 499/317 (lol) - no warnings
Frank can feel someone’s eyes on him as soon as he wakes.
It’s not the familiar weight of Tanner and Penny’s attention as they crowd his bed, negotiating about the day as soon as the light on their clock switches from yellow to green.
When he opens his eyes, he’s confused to see a canopy of leaves above him, early morning sunlight filtering through the branches. It takes him a minute, but he gets there: he and Mel are camping.
It’s something she’d never done before, so they’d added to their “figuring out what we like” list. Frank’s been camping up and down the Blue Ridge Mountains his whole life, so he’d taken lead on logistics for once, planning a simple overnight at Raccoon Creek State Park.
Privately, he thought camping was likely to join ceramics and lifting on the “not for Mel” list, but she’d been petty gung ho about it. She loved setting up the tent, but her spirits faltered when he put up his hammock and threw his sleeping bag into it.
“You’re not…sleeping in the tent?” she’d asked, frowning.
“Nah, I always like sleeping outside when I can. Plus, I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable about sharing.”
She’d accepted it, but her energy seemed lower the rest of the afternoon and evening as they hiked out to see the waterfall and stuck their feet in the lake. She didn’t say anything, but he thought that Mel didn’t love camping—she kept reapplying her bug spray wipes and wincing, not to mention her suspicion over sand—but he had a blast, especially messing around with his film camera (a cautious addition to the “yes for Frank” list). Frank had some fun building a fire up after dinner and tending to it as they roasted the requisite marshmallows and discovered that neither of them knew any ghost stories.
Mel’s vibe dipped again when they called it a night, smothering the fire and packing all the food back into the car. It seemed like there might be something she wanted to say, but she ended up crawling into the tent with just a quiet sweet dreams.
Frank had his usual night in the hammock: a period of discomfort followed by the faux philosophical thoughts inspired by proximity to nature before falling deeply asleep.
But now: the feeling of eyes on him. Presumably Mel’s, which gets him to sit up, hoping his bedhead isn’t too egregious.
Sure enough, he finds Mel standing nearby, wringing her hands and watching him. When he smiles at her, she brightens.
“Good morning! I hope you slept well! I woke up early so I already, um, packed everything up? And made some oatmeal and coffee for you. I’m ready to leave whenever.”
He blinks at the onslaught of words and then peers around. Everything they’d set up yesterday is gone, leaving just his camping bowl and thermos on the picnic table, his pack against the tree.
@kingdonmicrofic july 16, glitter (wc: 358/227)
abby pov
cw: infidelity
Abby was reasonable. She noticed the effort her husband was making to fix things, and she was a good enough wife to be grateful for it. He was sober and he was present and when it was her birthday he’d sat the kids down at the kitchen table with glue and popsicle sticks and they’d all worked together to make her a picture frame. They’d used green glitter to decorate, and it had gotten everywhere, into Frank’s scalp, his collar, in the gap between his ring and his finger. A week later it was still around. He'd pick it out from under his fingernails or shake it out of his hair like a dog and say, I’m pretty sure this is a biohazard, and she'd laugh, and it felt good, like before.
Sure, Frank didn’t quite look at her the way he used to, but that would probably come back with time. He was coming back to himself more and more every day.
So she decided to drop by the hospital on a Tuesday. She had forty minutes before daycare pickup and a meatball sub she knew he would appreciate, and she was thinking about the old days, when she used to show up with a homemade meal and he'd laugh and kiss her in front of everyone.
But this time, when he saw her, it was like his face went dark. He glanced over his shoulder, looking paranoid, as though didn’t want anyone to see her there.
He came over. He asked if the kids were okay, and his demeanor didn’t get any less intense when she reassured him that they were.
A woman approached, another doctor with a blonde braid pulled over one shoulder, and he turned his body fully away from Abby to give her his full attention. She asked him something about moving a patient to a bed upstairs, told him she’d defer to his expertise, and she did not look at Abby at all. Frank answered her. He did not say, this is my wife. He didn’t look at Abby either.
The woman, smiling and obviously charmed, thanked him and turned to go.
Abby saw it there, on the back of the woman's neck, just above the collar of her scrubs: a fleck of green glitter.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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affirmations for writers: i know how to write. i have seen sentences before, and i know how to make one. i can identify up to several words and their meanings. i am not afraid of semicolons.
