greenthumbwannabe
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Summary
Penny Langdon, 15, realizes her perfect family picture isn't as perfect as she thought.
Bookmarked by greenthumbwannabe
26 Sep 2026
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Hey Mel, I meant to say bye before leaving but I think you went up to the roof with everyone else? Thanks again for your help today. Excited to see you tomorrow :)
—Langdon
~a story told through post-it notes~
Bookmarked by greenthumbwannabe
24 Aug 2026
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“I’m jealous.” It escapes before she can let herself back out, “That my sister has a sex life, and I don’t.”
She doesn’t know why she’s admitting that to him. She honestly doesn’t. It’s embarrassing.
“Right there with you.” His voice is low, “How long–?”
She chews at the bottom of her lip, doing the mental math, “Three years…You?”
“Thirteen months.”
Warmth pools in between her legs, and she clutches his hand like it’s a lifeline.
It’s barely a whisper, she’s so afraid to say it,
“Close the trunk.”
---
“Wait, holy shit, King–” The wand stills inside of her as Trinity freezes the frame.
“What?” She asks, “God, it didn’t nick something, did it? I’m not about to bleed to death?”
“No, but you might pass out.” Trinity answers, “Maybe?”
“What is it?” She tries to sit up, but Trinity’s already turning the ultrasound monitor around to show her.
Her heart stills as she takes in the tiny flickering heartbeat on the screen in front of her, “Oh–”
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- English
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Bookmarked by greenthumbwannabe
01 Aug 2026
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Some nights were, naturally, worse than others.
Nights where Frank laid in bed for so long, staring at the ceiling, that it made his heart start to race with anxiety and his back ache and ache and ache no matter how he positioned himself. Nights where his thoughts spiraled out into worst-case-scenarios that seemed so vivid and inevitable that he would have to get up and go to the bathroom, just to turn the light on and look at himself in the mirror to remember what was actually real.
Those were the nights when he wanted the pills again the most: alone in his guest bedroom, trying to wring sleep out of his body like the last few drops of water out of a dirty dishcloth.
He tried not to call Mel on nights like that. He did not always succeed.
- Language:
- English
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- 90,073
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- 4/4
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Bookmarked by greenthumbwannabe
19 Jun 2026
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Summary
Mel King was a creature of habit.
There was a specific sort of choreography to her life beyond the chaos of the Emergency Department. A carefully controlled routine, a color-coded calendar, a rigid set of rituals that kept her grounded enough to keep showing up day after day, to keep on doing the work that was required of her to save lives.
Everything was going fine for Mel. Her personal life was predictable, unexciting, and perfectly fulfilling, thank you very much.
Enter Frank Langdon, agent of chaos.
- Language:
- English
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- 1/1
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Bookmarked by greenthumbwannabe
19 Jun 2026