Day 21: Bang

@kingdonmicrofic

January, 17XX. Princeton, NJ

The kitchen staff rushes to prepare dinner for the occupants of the Nassau Inn. Pots clang, voices yell orders, the fireplace roars. Despite the bitter cold outside, it is a sweatbox within. Trinity, one of the kitchen staff, wipes sweat from her brow after heaving a bag of flour onto the countertop when suddenly, the loud BANG of the back door being kicked down startles her. All focus turns to the entryway. As a gust of wind blows snow into the room, Melissa heaves the lifeless body of a man through the threshold.

“Somebody help me!” Melissa cries out, strained from dragging the body.

The staff rushes to help her carry the body to the fireplace. Meanwhile, Trinity slams the door shut behind him.

“Really, Melissa? I thought Samira forbade you from bringing dead bodies into the inn?” Trinity scoffs, kicking snow away from the door and rushing over to the hearth. She brings her hands up to her face and huffs hot air into them, rubbing them to retrieve any warmth she lost.

Meanwhile, Melissa pushes the nearly frozen hair out of the body’s lifeless face. His eyes are shut, his pale cheeks gaunt, and his full lips stained purple. All the telltale signs of being shuffled off from this mortal coil. Yet when she places two fingers to the pulse point of his neck, she feels the unmistakable, slow thrum of his heart.

“Actually, Samira forbade me from bringing body parts, not full bodies, into the inn. Besides, he’s not dead. His heart is still beating. I can save him yet,” she says, refusing to give up hope.

“You can save him? Maybe in your wildest dreams! You’re not a doctor, Melissa. You’re a laundry attendant,” Trinity sneers before returning to her work.

Melissa bites the inside of her cheek, holding back the choice words she’d like to throw at Trinity. True, she is not a licensed medical doctor; that profession is reserved for men and men alone. However, the hours she spent poring over medical journals in the King’s College library and analyzing the remains of dismembered soldiers would indicate otherwise. Now that opportunity knocks, Melissa is confident she can answer no matter what Trinity says. By her hand, this man will live; that much is certain.

388/462

Summary:

This is the story of Domiclese, a young shepherd in the time of the ancient Greeks. What does he have to do with modern-day Gravity Falls? Quite a lot.

Submitter's notes:

Summary:

Its been 6 years since Dipper was in Gravity Falls. Now at the age of 18 Dipper decides to enjoy his alone time in the woods

Submitter's notes:

Summary:

Reflecting on how Stan's history of trauma impacts his worldview, how those beliefs are passed on to Dipper, and what the ramifications are.

My submission to the Gravity Falls nonfiction zine "Reading Between the Falls."

Author:

Summary:

For the first time in what must surely be forever, nearly the entire Pines family will gather under one roof. Filbrick has resigned himself to a weekend of dread, terrible small talk, and general disappointment with the state of his family, as he always has for years.

But in the cold night, he begins to see an figure creeping closer and closer. It says nothing, wants nothing, but sometimes, if he listens very carefully, he thinks he can hear something strange-a whistle.

Author:

Day 15: Silk

@kingdonmicrofic

Frank swallows, and the thick lump in his throat crash lands in his stomach. Before him stands Melissa King, golden hair down and dressed only in a delicate, cream colored silk slip. In the warm, low light of her bedroom, the fabric’s luminous shine makes her glow in turn. Yet, were it not for the wine colored blush that spreads from her cheeks all the way down to her chest, it’s nearly impossible for Frank to distinguish where the garment ends and her soft skin begins. Best of all, it hugs her figure in all the right places and is thin enough to reveal the stiff peaks of her tempting nipples. 

“I know it’s not much…” Mel mumbles, biting her lip, refusing to look Frank in the eye. She fidgets with the thin strap that can’t seem to find purchase on her shoulder. 

If Frank weren’t so taken by how absolutely breathtaking she looks, he would scold her. How can she not see how truly beautiful she is? Is it not apparent in his face? In the way he pushes her golden strands behind her ear? In the way he gently takes her chin between his forefinger and thumb and directs her gaze towards his own? 

“It’s perfect, Mel. You’re perfect,” he says, unwavering. 

Mel’s eyes widen, dark pupils overtaking hazel.

“Do you mean it?” she asks, trepidation apparent in the way her voice wavers. 

Frank doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he gently guides Mel’s lips towards his own and kisses her. He pours every bit of his unspoken love into it—cupping her face and rubbing comforting circles into her flushed cheeks. 

And when Frank feels her hands take hold of his wrists and hears a high-pitched whimper, he knows she finally understands.

Day 13: Smoke

@kingdonmicrofic

The first time Mel sees Frank Langdon smoke, she bites the inside of her cheek and holds back a scold that is on the tip of her tongue.

Everyone knows doctors smoke for the same reason line cooks smoke. With long and grueling hours and a high-stress work environment, nicotine is guaranteed to mellow it all out. They can slip out easily, discreetly, for a few minutes and return ready to jump back into the fray.

Faint traces of menthol always linger on Frank Langdon’s skin. This faint, yet crisp spice that Mel, for whatever reason, never wanted to acknowledge, despite it being hard to ignore whenever they happened to be working in close proximity. She always chalked it up to the AA meetings. Lots of former addicts find themselves smoking to quell unwanted urges. When she’s at her most wicked and bitter, she blames it on Abby. She usually imagines Abby as one of those rail-thin, yet effortlessly beautiful, women with a lit Marlboro between her index and middle finger.

But no, it’s Frank. Frank Langon is the one who puts harmful chemicals in his body. Rots his teeth and coats the inside of his lungs with tar, toxic gases, and carcinogens.

He’s killing himself, she thinks bitterly. How could he do this to himself, to his family?

So why, then, does Mel wish she were the cigarette between his lips? Smoking has always been a red flag for Mel. An immediate hard pass and turn off. Frank Langdon shouldn’t change that. But he does, he absolutely does. . He looks so cool when he takes a long drag and sighs deeply as the smoke rushes out from his nose. She could learn to live with the stale smell of tobacco, maybe even love it if it’s what he wants.