Listen I Am Enjoying Building A Long And Rich Life Together For Mel And Langdon In My Head Despite Only

my watery friend... are you too brushed with the pattern of the dappled light...?

Just found out I was thirsty not by receiving a signal from my body about it but by dozing off and dreaming about cold water from different alluring angles. This is great. I think all my wants and needs should be revealed to me this way

qualeasha wood, "bed rot," 2024, woven jacquard, glass seed beads, and machine embroidery

I like when my dreams reuse locations from past dreams. like oh cool we doin a bottle episode

the hottest thing a woman has ever done on television is when yennefer spat out that alcohol and burned rience's face off

"save me, substance abuse!" i cry. before you can moralize to me about the dangers of addiction, a noble and powerful steed gallops into the room - my horse whom i have named "substance abuse". you learn an important lesson about making assumptions. i snort a line off its back

thinking about mel outside the pitt a lot

she has no interest in performing femininity. she hates the sensory experience of makeup on her skin, or tight glittery dresses, or, god forbid, curling her hair. she hates going to the salon (loud blowdryers, strangers touching her, eyes judging her when she stims and hums), so she trims her own hair herself (forgetting most times until her braid is too long and hits her waist).

she used to cut her hair very short in high school, a practical pixie cut, but becca always cried, upset by big changes, so she tries to keep it the same length now.

but she likes pretty things, collecting trinkets like a mockingbird. gold rings, clinking bracelets, a necklace with a deep green stone that kisses her breast bone. she barely wears them, but puts them on her window sill so she can see them gleam in the morning.

during the summer, she only wears loose flowy cotton dresses and linen baggy pants—anything else makes her skin hurt. she hates denim and corduroy, but loves cotton shorts and butter soft sweaters and long wool socks in a plethora of colors.

at home, she’s perpetually in shorts and a huge sweatshirt and fluffy slippers with rabbit ears

she lets becca play with her hair. frazzled space buns with colorful clips. twin bubbly braids with tiny butterfly hair pins. and she doesn’t mind nail polish—it’s soothing, the cool wet stroke of the brush, becca’s face wrinkled with concentration.

of course in the ED, she aims for comfort over fashion—boring orthopedic shoes and light t-shirts under her scrubs. she takes off the nail polish every morning with acetone wipes since it’s not allowed on shift.

(Frank sees her one day at a random restaurant with Becca and does a double-take because thats Mel King with twin buns in her hair and a huge band tee shirt and cotton shorts and dirty converse and it’s like now he knows this secret part of Mel, the Mel outside the ED.)

(She invites him to sit down and meet Becca. Every time they hang out after, on grocery store trips, in her tiny cluttered apartment, Frank looks forward to seeing what mishmash of clothes she’ll wear, discovering the books and jewelry on her shelves, the music posters on her walls.)

(And maybe, while walking with her through a park with his new dog, he touches her cottony skirt just barely with his fingertips and allows himself to want her—just for a second.)

some fucking resources for all ur writing fuckin needs

* body language masterlist

* a translator that doesn’t eat ass like google translate does

* a reverse dictionary for when ur brain freezes

* 550 words to say instead of fuckin said

* 638 character traits for when ur brain freezes again

* some more body language help

(hope this helps some ppl)