fellowshipincynicism

[fellowshipincynicism]

i have a lot of feelings about langdon's addiction arc as someone whose opioid addiction started in a v similar way to his/has known quite a few benzo (ab)users— and it's not all sympathetic, esp when it comes to how it must be affecting his wife and young children at home— but i will say this show's insistence on framing it as something he's doing to robby or a personal betrayal of robby's trust is starting to drive me bananas

[fellowshipincynicism]

(insert eggplant emoji here)

hello! i got bullied by my unhinged friends on twt to write this (@langdonmelism). it's unedited because i hate editing and it was read by my lovely friends willow and @melissakingdon! also note that there is a screenshot from a real reddit post, but i edited the user for privacy reasons ship: mel/frank (duh) rated: E word count: 3,278 tags: implied semi-public sex, implied oral sex, dick pics, reddit posting, multiple ways to describe having an absolutely massive dick

Frank does it because he feels pathetic.

(If anyone asks, it’s because Yolanda gave him the idea and peer-pressured him into it. She had, quite literally, sent him a link to the subreddit and told him to stop moping and start posting, loser.

how do you know this exists. why do you know this exists. arent you a lesbian, he texts her in response. He then gets sent some graphic, explicit descriptions about the kind of shit Garcia gets up to on the internet, and yeah, he kind of regrets asking any follow-up questions in the first place.)

He’s in his sad, divorced man apartment on his day off; the kids are at Abby’s, and he’s sitting on his couch pretending to watch whatever movie is on. He clicks the link because he’s curious, and he already has an account on Reddit to talk about EM and addiction recovery and parenting and shit. He knows that the porn side exists; he’d been subscribed to r/adorableporn and r/glassesntitties for a bit pre-divorce, but then he’d felt like he was cheating, in a way, even though the marriage had essentially been over the moment he went to rehab the first time.

R/MassiveCock is just a bunch of pictures and videos of people’s giant dicks. Some are stroking it, some are mostly clothed. There’s a variety of poses and angles, and some shots are of just cock and others are full-body. But the purpose of each post is clear -- look at and appreciate my big ol’ dick.

He’d known that the interest is there for this kind of thing - Frank’s stupid, but he’s not an idiot - but he didn’t expect the subreddit to have over a million members. Some of the posts even have thousands of upvotes and hundreds of comments.

He’s just never considered posting himself on the internet, is all.

In high school, it wasn’t a secret that Frank was hung - small town, small school. It was a point of pride in the way that most masculinity rituals were to straight, hormonal teen males. It’s not like he showed it to anyone who asked, thank you very much, but he wasn’t exactly able to keep it hidden in the gym showers. He’d hear the giggles of girls as he walked by in the halls, and he’d feel the desperation of the girls he made out with at parties when they grinded against him.

For a while, being known as the guy with the nice face and the monster dick made him feel fucking great. In reality, when he was finally able to put said dick to use, the results were mixed.

He lost his virginity in the back of his truck, in which he finished way too early and had only managed to get the first one-third of himself inside of his partner, who looked relieved at the idea that she didn’t have to try to fit the rest. The first time his college girlfriend had intended to give him a blowjob, she’d been excited before dropping to her knees, sucking on the tip for a few minutes, then promptly abandoning the task in favor of hand stuff - determining him a lost cause.

Some of his hookups during his single years were super into it, but the majority of them told him that his dick was painful for them, which also made him feel like shit.

Abby had told Frank, bluntly, that while she very much liked the size, feel, and challenge that came with Frank’s anatomy when they’d first started hooking up, it was a bit much for her to handle regularly without extensive prep. He theorizes that part of the reason their sex life dried up in the first place is that they were both too exhausted to put effort into the preparation Abby required; he with residency, her with their surprise newborns.

In the middle of one of their last arguments, she’d thrown at him, “If I’d married a dude with a normal cock instead of the one I fucked to get a check on my bucket list, maybe I’d have gotten off more!” And - yeah.

And Frank’s not that much of an asshole. He won’t make anyone do anything they aren’t comfortable with, and he’s really, truly okay with whatever his partners want to do. He could spend the rest of his life getting his partners off and only putting portions of his dick inside someone else if it made the other person happier. It just doesn’t feel great knowing that he’s just someone’s idea of a good time, and not a real person worth putting effort into accepting. Add that to his lump of insecurities.

Yo-Yo had also been his med school roommate, which is how she has the unfortunate knowledge of what Frank’s packing downstairs. “I don’t know, Langdon,” she’d said to him once, sharing a bong and deep thoughts on their couch, “I think you’re sleeping with the wrong people. I’m pretty confident there’s plenty of straight chicks into big dicks. Plus, don’t you have a rep for eating pussy like a god?”

So here Frank is, a year post-divorce, too scared to put himself back out there because he’s insecure about the size of his dick. And being an addict. And being a fuck-up.

He’s not interested in random hook-ups, meeting someone at a bar, or through an app for a quick fuck. He got that out of his system in his twenties. Maybe he needs anonymous people on the internet to tell him that at least there’s some part of him that’s worth something.

(He’s also trying very hard to ignore the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s in love with a particular tiny, blonde, glasses-wearing resident. Who would probably break in half and burst into tears the second he took off his pants. He tries really, really hard not to think about it.)

But what does Frank have to lose at this point? He’d lost his pride a long time ago.

Maybe he’s losing his mind, he thinks, as he gets off the couch and heads to his bedroom. There’s a mirror on the door of the closet that he can use for this.

He’s never been a big dick pic guy, and the idea of taking one and posting it online makes him bristle, instinctually. His phone is still loaded with the subreddit, so he sits on the bed for a few minutes while he sorts the posted content by “top” and “all time” to get some ideas for what he wants to do. He doesn’t like the videos, or the ones where there’s weird object comparisons (someone used an axe?), or the ones where it’s just a floating dick and nothing else in the frame. He knows the rest of his body looks okay, since he’s been putting in more hours at the gym as a diversion. Maybe, if the internet doesn’t like the way his dick looks, they’ll at least appreciate a chest and some visage of abs.

He also knows he doesn’t want to post himself flaccid, because that’s just fucking embarrassing. So, gathering a breath, Frank sheds all of his clothes, starts to stroke himself slowly, and lets himself think about Mel. That usually is enough to get him started.

Would she be flattered or horrified if she knew he thought about her perfect face to get himself hard? He thinks about how her eyebrows scrunch together when she’s confused, how she teethes at her lip when she’s concentrating, how the bite of her glasses would feel against his cheek. How her sexy little hands look when she’s suturing, or how she’d look bent over the nurses' station, maybe she’d take her tits out for him, or-

Okay, yeah, he’s ready to take the picture pretty fast.

Frank feels insane, posing his naked body in the mirror so that his dick looks suitable for people on the internet to critique. But he gets a few pictures that he feels aren’t terrible - his face mostly out of frame, and no identifying marks in shot. He’s purposeful with his framing - the photo cuts off mid-thigh, and he’s got his chest and arms on full display. Certainly better than some of the other pictures he’s seen on the forum, so that’s something.

When he creates a burner account, comes up with a suitable caption, and posts the image he’s settled on (which he triple-checks is actually on the burner, and not his main account), he still feels off-balance and on edge. He’s already waiting for comments or upvotes to come in.

Please, tell me you like my dick, internet perverts, he thinks, although he knows he isn’t any better than them.

There’s no way in hell he’s telling Yolanda he went through with this. She was probably joking, the asshole. The fuck does he know about cocks, anyway?

Frank’s exhausted. He’s gonna go to bed early, because he does have to work tomorrow, and he wants to skip to the part where he reads what people have to say about him.

He does need to take care of his hard-on first, though.

-

When Frank walks into work the next morning, he’s got a spring in his step.

Three thousand upvotes. Over one hundred comments. 9 messages from people asking for more pictures or for way too much personal information.

basedapplesauce354: good thing ur a doctor because im gonna need to see one after im done with u

unhingedtwink27: you look magnificent… more like daddy dong am i right

emergency_horseshoes: you have a very beautiful body and an absolute horse cock :)

Okay, maybe Garcia had been onto something with her suggestion.

Because, yeah, it feels nice having a bunch of random strangers on the internet tell him that he’s got a nice body. He doesn’t hear a lot of praise these days, and it feels good to have people who say to him that at least part of him is worth something - even if it’s through being objectified by horny strangers on Reddit. He’s not sure if it’s enough to get him back out there, not yet, but the ego boost is indeed lovely. Sue him, he likes being told that he’s got positive attributes.

He feels fucking fantastic, until he realizes that Mel’s avoiding him.

She’s not at their regular before-shift meeting spot at the lockers. She pointedly ignores his attempts at eye contact during the morning huddle. He tries sending her a few smiles and nods from across the nurses' station, but every time she notices he’s there, she decidedly turns and runs the other direction. She asks Mohan to buddy up during cases, which actively pisses him off because that’s his thing, thank you very much (and, to her credit, Mohan also looks confused, sending Langdon curious glances from behind Mel’s back).

Every time Frank tries to get in the same room as Mel, she walks out. And it’s noticeable. Santos even elbows him in the ribs at some point, pointedly asking, “the fuck did you do to her?” And even though Frank tells Trinity to fuck off, he didn’t do shit; he’s not sure he didn’t do anything.

Frank’s concerned the moment he realizes something’s wrong, but halfway through his shift, he’s now downright alarmed. He’s thinking about every interaction they’ve had since the last time he saw her. Did he say something, do something to upset her? Is it something he didn’t do?

The great mood Frank had walking in this morning had quickly been snuffed out because Mel won’t even look at him. Frank’s a lot of things - an addict, a shitty ex-husband, a mediocre father. But he forgets about those things, if only for a moment, when he looks at Mel’s beautiful face and smile. The way the light brings out the blonde in her hair, always tucked back her signature, neat braid. The mole next to her eye. The way she cares about her patients and cares about him. How she makes him feel like a man who isn’t worthless, if only to be worthy of a few minutes of basking in her warmth.

If he doesn’t figure out what’s going on soon, he’s convinced he’s gonna die.

So when Frank sees an opportunity, he takes it. Mel is standing alone outside of a patient’s room, looking intently at her tablet. She’d just finished her workup and was probably just overlooking her charting - he would know, considering he’d been stalking the room for the past 10 minutes, waiting for her to leave.

He walks up behind Mel, grabs her gently by the wrist, and tugs her towards the on-call room.

“Oh! Dr. Langdon, what-” is all Mel can say before he’s got her where he wants her, alone, his back against the unlocked door. He’s trapping her in there with him, basically, but he doesn’t give a shit about optics right now. He needs to know what she’s thinking.

Mel yanks her arm away and stands a solid few feet away from him. She’s red in the face, fidgeting with her hands, and she still won’t look at him. “I need to get back to the floor, so if you could please -”

“Did I do something?” he snaps, and he probably looks insane; he’s been running his hair all day, and he’s wide-eyed and desperate for her attention. “Mel, you’ve barely even looked at me today, what the fuck?”

“Frank, I really need to-”

“Mel, please,” he whines, and her eyes snap to his from where they’d been previously steadfast to the floor, “can you just tell me what’s going on?”

She’s not making any moves to leave the room. Mel looks over his face a few times before closing her eyes and sighing. When she opens them, she seems resolute - like she’d been steeling herself up for something, like she’d made a decision. Frank holds his breath.

“I can’t stop looking at you and- and thinking about it.”

“Thinking about what?” he asks, eyebrows drawing together.

“Please don’t make me say it,” she squeaks out.

“Mel, for the love of-”

“Your Reddit post, Frank.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

His jaw drops, and his arms fall from where they’d been crossed on his chest to his sides. He’s pretty sure he’s actually standing outside of his body. There’s a ringing in his ears. He could get stabbed right now, and he wouldn’t feel a thing, because he’s pretty sure he just heard Mel admit that she knew that he posted a picture of his dick on the internet last night.

He doesn’t say anything, so Mel keeps going. “I didn’t find it on purpose! I’m already a subscriber to that subreddit -”

“You what?”

“Oh my god, you didn’t need to know what. Anyways, Garcia keeps referring to you as-”

“Oh, Jesus Christ-”

“Dr. Long Dick, which I just thought was a very crass nickname, and she only uses it when you aren’t around! I just didn’t think she was being serious. But then I saw you last night. And I know you. I know what your hands look like, your chin dimple, the caption was so obvious, I just- I just knew it was you. So. I have seen your penis, Frank.”

Frank’s gonna die. The ground is going to swallow him whole. He’s never going to step foot in this hospital again.

“Oh, fuck, this is embarrassing,” Frank sputters out, about to turn around and run out the door, out of the hospital, away from this situation. Away from the possibility that he’s ruined his friendship with Mel, one of the only good things he has in his life, over an ego boost that he never thought she would see.

Before everything, maybe he would have made a cocky, flirty comment, diverted by asking her if she liked what he saw; he doesn’t recognize that version of himself now.

But he feels Mel’s hand on his shoulder, and he freezes.

“Please don’t leave,” she stutters out, “please don’t be embarrassed. It’s just- it’s perfect, Frank, it is! And I look at you, and I can’t stop thinking about it, because you’re my friend and we work together. I’m the one who is being inappropriate. I’m so sorry.”

Oh.

“What’s perfect?”

“Huh?”

Frank reaches back a hand and quickly sets the lock to the door.

“I need you to be clear with me here, Mel,” Frank says in a low voice, “because I’m kind of freaking out, and it kind of sounds like you called my dick perfect.”

Mel’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Well, that’s what it sounds like because it’s what I said. I just- I don’t want to lose your friendship because of this. Please. I promise to be normal from now on.”

Oh, he is so in love with her.

Frank figures he doesn’t have much left to lose. Not if she’s saying what he thinks she’s saying. “Do you want to see it?”

“What?”

“Do you want to see my cock, Mel?” he asks, backing Mel slowly up by moving towards her until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed, forcing her to sit down. “Since you liked that picture so much, might as well figure out how you feel about it in person, hm?”

“Oh, well, I mean, really?” Mel stutters, looking both surprised and curious. “Please?”

Frank’s harder than he has been in weeks, but he hesitates. Before he gives Mel what she wants (what he wants, too), he has to know, first.

“I like you, Mel,” he says, voice quiet but steady, “I really fucking like you, actually.”

And Mel positively beams up at him from the edge of the bed, eyes wide and teeth gleaming. She’s looking at him like he hung the goddamn moon in the sky. She’s the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Oh! I didn’t- I didn’t know. I really like you too, Frank,” she says.

“I just didn’t think you’d be into me. Into this,” he says, waving in the general direction of his crotch. “I’m a lot, in a lot of ways, I guess. Figured I’d scare you off.”

Mel’s nose wrinkles, and she places her hands primly on her knees. “Well, I think you are perfect. Every part of you. Not just the penis. Even if it’s really, really nice.”

He huffs out a laugh, even though he is genuinely touched, but she continues. “I’m an adult. And I prefer my male genitalia on the sizable end of the range. Not that it mattered what you had going on down there, because I like you so much. But, yeah. I can take whatever you have to give me.”

“You promise?”

“I feel like we need to discuss your insecurities, later, because I don’t know where this is coming from,” Mel tells him, licking her lips, “but can I please see your penis, now, Frank?”

He can do that.

He can do whatever she wants.

And ten minutes later, when they both leave the supply closet, Frank can help Mel fix her hair and straighten her clothes. He can’t help the red, swollen look of her lips, or the tear-stains on her cheeks, her puffy eyes, or the extra raspiness in her voice (she had insisted on gagging on it, and who was he to deny her anything?). Their coworkers are probably going to ask questions, but he doesn’t really give a shit about that right now.

He can promise her that he will delete the Reddit post, upon her request, because she’s the only one who can see his naked body from now on, thank you very much.

He can also promise her an ice cream date after their shift, sealed with a kiss.

Frank’s good mood is back, baby.

[fellowshipincynicism]

snippets from a life worth living

day seven: hammock

a microfic collection, created thanks to @kingdonmicrofic

He thinks a hammock is only meant for one person. When he sets one up in the backyard of his house, he imagines himself laying back, looking up through the trees, maybe chasing a tan. Solitude, something he doesn’t get often in his busy life, is something he could find, if only for a moment. 

Instead though, he has Mel.

read on ao3

[fellowshipincynicism]

@kingdonmicrofic Day 7: Hammock (481 words)

The sign read, “Only ONE Person in Each Hammock PLEASE!!”

Perfect, Mel thought. The last thing she wanted to see was another person.

She submitted her RSVP without thinking about it. She had a good time at Robby’s cookout earlier in the summer. How different could it be?

Turns out very different. The hospital’s yearly summer carnival took up every picnic shelter at the park. Kids ran around on the various inflatable rides. Mel arrived early, picked up a can of Dr. Pepper from a cooler, and then suffered through five minutes of small talk with a couple of oncologists before she was ready to head back home.

She looked around desperately for her ED colleagues. It was just so loud. She couldn’t focus on anything with the screaming kids. Finally, she uses her empty can as an excuse to take a quick breather.

Mel made it a short distance into the walking trail before she saw them: a row of hammocks next to the creek. They were shaded by large oak trees and the only sound was the quiet babbling water next to them.

She lowered herself onto the net and breathed out. She got approximately two deep breaths to herself before she heard heavy footsteps on the trail. She’s shocked when she opened her eyes and saw Dr. Frank Langdon bursting through the trees like some sort of wild animal.

“Hi,” he said simply.

“Hi,” she replied. “Did…did you follow me?”

“Kind of,” he admitted. “I saw you when you arrived but I couldn’t get away to come say hi. The kids are.…”

“Wild,” she finished.

“Yeah.”

“Is this what your house is like?” she asked him, and he laughed.

“Only sometimes. I usually don’t give them a week’s worth of sugar and them put them on a trampoline.”

“Sorry,” Mel shook her head. “That was rude of me. I love kids, but I just got overwhelmed.”

“No, I get it,” he sighed. “Why do you think I followed you into the woods?”

From anyone else, the statement would probably creep her out, but not from him. Mel didn't think too hard about why that was. She filed the thought away in the back of her head along with the urge to run her hand through his hair when he was doing a procedure or why his smile was the best part of her day.

“Mind if I join you for a bit?” he asked. “Or are you trying to be alone?”

She was, but she’d gladly take being alone with him.

“Sure, but it says only one person per hammock.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

It’s when they end up on the ground, tangled in each other and laughing hard enough to make her sides hurt that Mel realized why it was only one person per hammock, but she’d break the rules again for him anytime.

[fellowshipincynicism]

match day :’)

[fellowshipincynicism]

written for @kingdonmicrofic day seven - hammock - 481 words - ao3

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In the summer between 6th and 7th grade Frank helped his older brother string up a bedsheet between the two hickory trees at the end of the yard, a makeshift hammock in which they could while away the quiet afternoon hours under the thick blanket of humidity. The boys had fought over whose turn it was relentlessly, oftentimes resorting to physical altercations to see who ‘deserved’ it the most. Frank rarely won those battles, spending the months of June and July tending to the scrapes and bruises on his shins as his mother chided him for getting into scraps he knew he couldn’t win. The simultaneous promise and threat of puberty would evade him for a bit longer, but he’d cling to the plucky underdog persona for as long as he could.

One night in particular brought down its own strain of oppressive warmth, the kind that alerts you to a brewing storm. Low hanging clouds locking in the heat of the day, that strange hum in the air colouring everything a faint purple. Frank had snuck out under the cover of darkness, treading carefully through the overgrown grass in the backyard to claim his spot in the hammock. Even the song of the cicadas had started to peter out at this hour, leaving only the gentle whistle of the breeze in the leaves to fill the silence.

After hours of laying there trying to still his frantic mind, the clouds finally parted, revealing the expanse of sky above. He looked up at the stars through the tangled branches of the trees, committing the way they splayed out across the sky to memory. The way they were spattered in a seemingly random pattern made so much sense that it felt intrinsic to his understanding of the universe beyond his tiny hometown. The kind of beauty you could see, but that existed so far away that you’d never be able to touch it, never be able to feel the blaze of it under your fingertips.

Those memories came flooding back all at once the first time he saw the bare skin of Mel’s back, a sweet sucker punch that made his eyes water. She slept on her stomach, breathing deeply through slightly parted lips. Frank couldn’t help but watch her as he fought the pull of sleep himself. The freckles that spread from her shoulders wound down her spine, that infinite galaxy of tiny marks that made his breath catch in his throat.

Before he could chicken out, he let his palm rest gently between her shoulder blades. Her skin was warm, soft. She sighed under his touch, shifting closer and settling deeper into her sleep. 

Frank never thought it would be possible to touch beauty like this. But he’d always been a good student, happy to be proved wrong. He’d let Mel prove him wrong every day, no doubt about it.

[fellowshipincynicism]

a softer kingdon

[fellowshipincynicism]

if i get a good nights sleep i can feel like a human being but it does mean missing out on an hour of phone time. so there's nuance.

[fellowshipincynicism]

Top Kingdon moments as voted by my followers

#1: you're a sensitive person Mel

[fellowshipincynicism]

mel/frank | exactly 334 words | rated g ↳ for day six: lemonade of the august @kingdonmicrofic challenge

[fellowshipincynicism]

written for @kingdonmicrofic day six - lemonade - 496 words - ao3

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Mel heard him before she even rounded the corner, the unmistakable rattle of ice cubes in a plastic cup. She slowed her pace to a walk, wiping her forehead on the sleeve of her shirt. With night shifts kicking her ass she was forced into a painful routine of running in the unrelenting heat, so the brief pause was welcome.

‘I can’t believe you guys haven’t heard of it, it was like, the lemonade scandal last summer. So, basically, two people died after drinking it–’

The two children running the stand couldn’t be older than five, their mouths slightly open as they watched Dr Shen gesticulate wildly as he spoke.

Mel approached the group tentatively, sneakers thudding against the warm asphalt of the sidewalk. She looked around, trying to spot some sort of adult supervision to hopefully relieve the children of this less-than-appropriate conversation.

‘-- so all because a couple of lightweights couldn’t handle their caffeine intakes, now I can’t get my favorite drink anymore.’

The children were both silent for a moment as they stared at him. Suddenly the boy opened his mouth. ‘Daaaaaad!’ he cried out.

There was a crash from inside the house, followed by a muffled cry of Fuck!. The hinges on the door squealed in protest as it swung open. The man that came barreling out of the house had an overflowing pitcher of lemonade in one hand and a dangerously tall stack of cups in the other, and was still stringing together curse words under his breath.

‘Shen, I told you not to be weird– Oh, Mel! Hi!’

She felt the flush spread over her cheeks instantly. Dr Langdon, the mentor she’d had for all of 15(ish) hours, stopped in his tracks. His hair was unstyled, rumpled like he’d been running his fingers through it again and again. Her gaze caught on the hideous camo-patterned crocs he was wearing. She committed the detail to memory, part second hand embarrassment, part endearment. 

‘Hi Dr Langdon,’ she said, raising her hand to wave at him. The smile that bloomed across his features was warm. He remembered her.

‘So you left your fulfilling career in emergency medicine to open a lemonade stand?’ Shen’s voice broke the spell of Langdon’s eye contact.

‘Don’t piss me off John,’ he bit back, but the smile still playing at the corner of his lips betrayed his stern demeanor.

‘Dad that’s a bad word!’ the little girl whispered, tugging at one of Langdon’s belt loops with her chubby fingers.

‘Sorry honey,’ he said, leaning down to tuck an unruly lock of dark hair behind her ear.  ‘Shen, you have two weeks left without me, enjoy them while you can.’

When he looked back up his eyes found Mel’s instantly, like two magnets snapping together. She hadn’t laid eyes on him since last September but it only took one look for that burn in her chest to return in full force. 

Two weeks. Mel could last two more weeks.

[fellowshipincynicism]

BREAK THE ICE

mel/frank for @kingdonmacrofic day 05 (blackout) | 1456 words

additional tags: alternate universe: mall employees; 2007; alternate universe: college; title from the britney spears BLACKOUT album (2007) ‼️ the zumiez 🤝 claire’s alliance

Langdon loves summer. With no courses and lectures or labs to worry about, everything narrows down to just three things on his personal hierarchy of needs—work, sleep, and hang. It also means his morning routines are a little more…chill when he gets ready for his shift.

He rolls out of bed, kissing a still snoozing Abby on the cheek as she drools a little against his pillow. Find yesterday’s jeans from his haphazardous dirty clothes pile cannibalizing his desk chair, with his purple-and-black checkered belt still inside the loops. Chugs down a Mountain Dew, always prematurely dreaming about the Auntie Annie’s cinnamon pretzel he’s going to devour during his fifteen minute break. If he has extra time (rare, Frank struggles showing up on time most days), he’d wake and bake with a dank sativa to right his brain. Instead, he makes it to the bus stop two minutes early, riding all the way from his Ellsworth Ave duplex up to the Moss Grove Park Mall stop, his packed JanSport and sticker-covered longboard in tow.

At least, that’s how it usually went, but he hadn’t heard from Abby in three days. She’d been pissed when Langdon came over to her dorm with his eyebrow freshly pierced. “Those take 6 months to a year to heal. Do you want to send my mother to an early grave? Intentionally mess up the family wedding pictures in September? My sister is going getting married once. You could've have just waited, but no, you had to go out and just do it, like always.” It didn’t help that he immediately replied at least it wasn’t the snake bites I really wanted.

Truly, he only had himself to blame, currently stuck in a time loop of constantly sliding the keypad open on his Nokia, readying to reach out, then remembering he maxed out on his limited texting plan ten days into July. Damn. 

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Princess conspiratorially looks him up and down, pausing her re-merchandising of Vans t-shirts near the Zumiez registers. “Thought I had twenty more minutes of peace and quiet before you’d finally stumble in.”

“What can I say, I have to do my part if we're trying to get corporate to make our store one of their Couch Tour stops, Prin,” he leans in, conspiratorially. “There’s forum rumors that they booked Senses Fail as the headliner. Do you know how fucking sick that is?”

She just huffs out a laugh.“You and those forums.”

“Hey—can’t win if we don’t play,” he says, dropping off his stuff in the staff break room as the same old Dashboard Confessional song blares from the speakers. He was hoping their regional manager would finally discover he had a soul and spare them from the straight from Washington, U.S.A Head Quarters approved mega mix of 14 songs that looped every 54 minutes in favor of an auxiliary connector to play their own stuff. Not that Langdon has a fancy iPod to plug in—more like a cracked Zune he found outside fraternity row while skating home from the library. He’d jail broke the damn thing, filled it with all the torrented music he sourced from Pirate Bay and LiveJournal (and LimeWire, once, until it nearly wiped out his family's already archaic desktop. Rookie mistake, really. He blamed little sleep and lapsing on his Ritalin script for that unforced error). “So, do you want the floor or registers tod—”

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” A voice cuts through; a true screech that echoes across the plaza, skating across the shiny tile floors, past the big fake planters and escalators, all the way across the mall’s expanse to Zumiez. When Langdon turns and looks, he spots the stomping, enraged form, a tornado short red hair and a dark green vest, screaming spittle back into the Claire’s, making a scene. He’s pretty sure his fight or flight is triggered immediately by the bombastic when she yells about speaking to the manager. 

“What the fuck?” 

“A new girl started today, apparently. The manager-on-duty no showed, so she’s been trying to hold everything down…” Princess doesn’t even finish her sentence and he’s already out of Zumiez and half-way across the mall over to Claire's because that shit sucks. It wasn’t even noon on a Wednesday.

Frank can’t say he’s ever been inside of a Claire’s except for the occasional glance over in the distance when his mind wanders during a slow shift. 

It’s everything he expects: the bumping Britney Spears; the entire wall of beaded necklaces and hair scrunchies and sequin purses in every pastel color imaginable; the piercing podium and corresponding stool, a sign exclaiming Free Ear Piercing! Which is a total scam, probably make you pay for the jewelry and aftercare disinfectant after. He knew a grift when he saw one. 

The Claire's employee, however, is like nothing he could anticipate. 

Blonde braided hair like dried grass in the summertime (what a fuckin’ corny thing to think, even for him). Glasses starting to fog; brown eyes filling with tears, chest heaving in and out like he does after hitting a hard fall from his board, body so shocked that it doesn’t process what’s happening.  Maybe it’s the bright, overexposed overheads, but he’s pretty sure he spots the light splay of freckles across her nose like splatter paint. She’s in a short sleeve blue button down tucked into khaki pants, complete with a shiny pair of loafers and two pens sticking out of her shirt pocket—the most professional looking Claire’s employee he’s ever seen. 

“I’m so sorry,” she starts, and Langdon’s mind crashes for a second at the sound of her voice. “Just give me one moment, and I’ll be back to answer any questions—”

“Listen, look…I’m not a customer. I’m from across the way, at Zumiez.” He motions to his name tag, proof that he’s legit. “I saw that real piece of work of a customer from over there, and—I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Mall workers solidarity, which side are you one, and all that.”

She sniffles, worrying her bottom lip with her two front teeth like a rabbit. “I think this might be my first and last day working at Claire’s.” 

“Well,” he starts, thinking maybe he should’ve smoked up this morning, to calm some of the residual jitters he feels from looking at her. “It seems like the rumor around Moss Grove is that you're the only one working the store on your first day, which should never happen—”

“Trust me, I already knew I was in over my head here, even before...I don’t even like shopping here, but my applications at Brookstone and Franklin Covey were all rejected, and Claire’s is my sister’s favorite store. I thought—it’s not really my thing, but I do get a 50% employee discount on store merchandise, which isn’t nothing! Then I came in early to watch the ‘How to Pierce Ears’ training DVD in the back, but Kim left before I could finish and it’s so irresponsible anyways for this company to use a piercing gun and not a sterile needle, especially in this environment. That’s what I told the customer too, that she would be much better off going to a professional studio with a licensed piercer. I would know: I’m a pre-med student with a new belly button ring. Who better to give advice, y’know? Obviously…that’s not what she wanted to hear, along with me not knowing how to work any of the registers and everything being a lot and never sure if I’m smiling enough…”

“Hey, you’re doing great.” He truthfully replies, because wow, his brain’s fixes on pre-med and belly button piercing and an inherent love of fine-leather planners and niche electronics. She’s even painted her nails to perfectly match her shirt. Langdon’s fucked. 

“Let’s make a deal: I’ll give you five minutes to grab your things. Do you know where they keep the store key in the back?” She furiously nods like she’s relieved to finally get an answer right. “Good. We’re going to pull down the cage and lock up, get Auntie Annie’s in the Food Court, and talk through how the rest of your shift is going to go. My co-worker Perlah comes in soon, so we should have enough coverage for me to help you out in the meantime. Does that sound okay?” 

A lingering tear rolls down her cheek, but a small smile turns up at the corners of her mouth. “I’m Melissa, by the way. Everyone calls me Mel.” 

“Langdon, but everyone inside the mall calls me Frank.” He mirrors. Mel suits her. “I’ll be back in five. In the meantime, think about what pretzel you want—the cinnamon one is my favorite.” 

“Thank you! Will do! And Langdon?” Mel asks, saying his name in two, distinct syllables. His hands flex. “I like your piercing.”

[fellowshipincynicism]

when you forget step 4...

for @melissalangdon 🖤

[fellowshipincynicism]

Top Kingdon moments as voted by my followers

Tied for #1: you're making a great first impression

[fellowshipincynicism]

written for @kingdonmicrofic day five - blackout - 364 words - ao3

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“Oh my Godddddddd you guys, I’m fineeee!’ Javadi slurred as she staggered between them, bouncing off their shoulders as if she were in a pinball machine.

Frank was starting to regret broadcasting the information that his sobriety extended to alcohol too, earning him the perennial title of designated driver. Maybe he should’ve lied, told them there was enough vodka in his Diet Coke to knock out a Bolshevik.

‘We just want to make sure you get home safe,’ Mel said, swinging an arm over Javadi’s shoulder to pull her upright. She shot a concerned look across to Frank, wrinkling her nose when Javadi laughed too close to her face. He would wait to light his cigarette, he thought, fingers toying with the carton in his pocket.

To be perfectly honest, he couldn’t judge. The night of his own 21st birthday would remain a total mystery, the only evidence the evening had even occurred being a tattoo on his inner bicep of… something. He’d never quite worked out what it was and truthfully he was too scared to find out.

‘You guys are too nice,’ Javadi babbled, her head lolling to the side to look at Mel. ‘My mom’s a bitch.’

Mel coughed, eyes widening at the sudden confession. ‘You’ve had a lot to drink Victoria, I don’t know—’

‘I wish you guys were my parents,’ Javadi cut in, giggling. 

Frank stumbled slightly as he felt all the blood in his body flood into his cheeks. He was suddenly acutely aware of the heat of Mel’s gaze on the side of his face. This was not a conversation he wanted to be a part of, especially stone cold sober, at 11pm on a Thursday.

‘Like, Mel you would be my mom and Dr Langdon, you could be my daddy—’ she hiccuped. ‘Oops.’

‘I don’t think—’ he choked out, but she wouldn’t be deterred.

‘You could get married and then be in love forever and then also maybe help me study for my Step 2. I think you guys would be really good at that, wayyyyyy better than my own parents who SUCK!’ she hollered into the evening.

Maybe they should’ve just called her an Uber.

[fellowshipincynicism]

being #uncouth