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penvisions · 4 months

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the melting point {chapter 16}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: In the aftermath of a rather eventful and terrifying last summer farmer's market, you try to find a semblance of normalcy as best you can. Meanwhile, Frankie is up to something that is beginning to cause you to worry about the burden you've become in your recovery.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: medical jargon, mild language, emotional monologues, internal monologue, negative feelings, negative thoughts, ptsd symptoms, pining, emotional pining, depressive thoughts, description of pain and injuries, blood, descriptions of post shooting chaos, panic attacks, notions of death, hospital setting, mentions of needles and iv's, mentions of narcotics, use of prescription narcotics, feelings of inadequacy, angst

A/N: um, so it's been four months since i've touched this fic, then i woke up yesterday morning and just began writing like nothing. takes breaks when you need to, don't force things and it'll all work out. please let me know what y'all think!

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“C’mon, hang on for me baby, please, don’t-don’t close your eyes.”

“Mantequilla, everything is gonna be okay, I promise, we’re all here for you, please know that everything is going to be okay.”

“We’ve got you, you did so good, you saved my little girl, you did, you saved her.”

“Honey, we all love you so much, please stay strong, I’ll hold your hand the entire way there.”

“Let’s get you turned over, ma’am, c’mon. There we go, you’re doing amazing.”

“Santi, she-she-“

“Papa!! Papa, please help her, I love her! Tio Santi, do something!!”

“Merde, that’s so much blood, Frankie you’ve gotta focus, you’ve gotta calm her down. Get her home safe, to your mother’s, somewhere safe.”

“Will!! They got her, call Morgan! She went missing the second things got crazy.”

“Has anyone seen Benny?”

“They’re transporting her now, rushing her to surgery the second the get there.”

“She’s lost a lot of blood, any donations with the same blood type would be appreciated. Who here is a positive?”

“Sweet girl, please, you’ve got to pull through, I know you can do it. You’re so strong.”

“No response, it’s been how many days now?”

“She’s being rushed into another surgery, she keeps clotting. They can’t figure out why.”

“Fransico Morales? You’re next of kin?”

“No, no, but we’re all she has. Her family is flying out, they’ll be here in a few hours.”

“Taylor, take a moment, it’s…it’s a lot to take in.”

“Daddy, why is tia all tangled in those machines, she’s going to be okay, right?”

“This is my son, he wanted to come and cheer her up because she always did the same for him when he was sick.”

“Please, mi amor, please, you have to make it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Fractered memories played over each other, words echoing and bouncing off of each other through the fog that was all you knew. You couldn’t feel anything, all of your senses stripped away, and you were nothing more than a half-conscious mind tunneling in and out of suspended darkness.

Beeping, an even beeping was the only steady thing you could make out. Sense of environment completely gone and sense of awareness slowly trickling in. Your eyes hurt as you slowly blinked them open, the faint lights around you too bright and you clenched them shut with a huff that pulled at your lungs. The stillness of where you were was shattered as the clattering of a chair sounded, followed by a pair of hands tightening around yours that were settled over your middle. A hushed order to go fetch someone and then a deep voice was rumbling close. You turned your head toward the presence hovering close to your left side, drawn to whoever it was.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, sweet girl.”

A grunt sounded from deep in your chest as you tried to open your mouth and respond. Then a gasp when pain reverberated from the same spot. You tried to shift your legs, hips feeling oddly numb but you couldn’t quite feel them. It was as if they were asleep, but… you cracked your eyes open a second time, squinting down the length of the bed you were in. Your legs were there, obvious underneath the thin, knit, scratchy blankets that only a hospital possessed. You tried to shift again, but even your hips didn’t feel like a part of your body. Your eyes flew open completely, tearing up at the brightness of the room.

Shuddering breaths pulled deep hurt, but you tried to shift again and again but there was no movement underneath the blanket. None.

“Okay, alright, querida, please. Take a deep breath, it’s-it’s gonna be okay.” Frankie. It had been Frankie speaking to you, close to you. His hands reached out for your own, where you had pried them from him to try and prop yourself up, wires and tubes pulling, clattering against each other and making your head swim. “The doctors-“

“I know this must be quite a shock, but it’s good that you’re awake!” A white coat, thrown over a modest skirt and blouse, blonde hair. A kind face, pinched. A furrowed brow. Bad news on the tip of her tongue.

You tried to speak, demand why you couldn’t feel anything below your waist. But you could only croak out the faintest notions of words. Everything was a blur, the hospital room you were in a mess of blue and white, the beeping of machines hurting your ears. Nothing made any sense, confusion coloring every thought as to how you got here and why.

“Let’s get you some water and food first, your body is pretty weak right now. Can I get a level two meal delivered to room thirteen eighty-nine, please?” She turned to address someone who had been hidden behind her, a nurse in teal scrubs.

“Tell me.” You managed to croak out, eyes fixated on her pinched ones.

“I would really prefer to get you a little acclimated.”

“No.”

Her eyes flickered toward Frankie, as if in a silent plea to get him to calm you down and put you at ease however little he could manage. But you ignored the warm weight of his hand on your shoulder, eyes trained on the doctor in front of you as you tried to find more strength to speak around the dry cotton feel of your mouth, the panging hunger that was present in your stomach, the lack of control over your body.

She sighed, arms holding the clipboard in front her in an imitation of a fig leave over her hips.

“We had you in a medically induced coma for the last two weeks. I’m not sure all of what you remember, the brain is fickle that way, pushing things and events out in response to trauma.” She didn’t look from you as the sound of fast steps approached the door, nor when a large figure moved passed her and came straight to your right side. It was Taylor. Both of the most important men in your life on your sides. He was quiet, but you could see the evidence of tears in the puffiness of his eyes, the lack of a smile on his face as he hovered close.

“You were hit in the sacrum and coccyx region, paralyzing you from the waist down. We performed three surgeries to remove the bullet shards and repair as much of the damage as possible. Your blood flow and reflex reactions have improved but we had no way of knowing if anything truly worked until you woke. A week has passed since we stopped inducing you, we were beginning to think you might not wake up.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur, medical terms floating heavy in the air of the room. Daunting, terrifying, life altering. You didn’t think you could handle another life altering event of this caliber. But it didn’t look like you had to traverse it alone. You teared up once the doctor left the room, offering to come back and talk to you once visiting hours were over, though she had mildly glared at both men as she said it. But knowing them both, they had been alternating staying the night to watch over you past the set hours that allowed for them to be present.

You had two wonderful men who were willing to do anything for you, one with a friend group who would follow his lead and the other who had given you so much already. You hoped it wouldn’t be too much, taking what they were willing to give.

“It’s a lot,” Taylor’s voice broke, his words spoken through eyes glittering with tears. His hands tight around yours as he leaned his forehead against yours, completely in your personal space. “But we’ve done somethin’ like this before and we can do it again. We can do it again.”

You could only nod, throat and voice still weak from weeks of disuse.

He walked closer to the side of the bed, the man’s large build shadowing over you in the dimmer setting of the lights you had requested. The full effect of them too bright for you eyes after being unconscious for so long. You reached out to him, urging him to sit atop it as best he could as you all but threw yourself at him. He let you, aware of Frankie standing close to the other side, eyes watering as he heard the cries that began to bubble up from you.

“I-I-“

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here. We’re both here.” Taylor murmured, as he wrapped his own arms around you to pull you close. He smelled like your apartment, a mix of faint buttercream and the rose perfume you favored all rolled into one comforting scent. His own masked by the time he had been in town. “Alfred was here too, but he had to be taken back for school. He sat with you every day for that first week and read to you. He was so worried about you, mami. He kept talking with you like he always does, hoping you would wake up and respond.”

Frankie excused himself, his phone beeping in his pocket and the sound of you crying too much for him to handle all at once. You watched him leave the room, his shadow visible through the blinds in the window looking into the room as he paced up and down the hallway just outside. His voice a low murmur as he spoke with whoever had been trying to contact him.

“I didn’t mean to scare him…or you. I’m so sorry, that call – it must’ve been so terrifying.” You hiccupped into his chest, unable to stop the tears and emotions from flowing all at once, overwhelmed and completely at a loss of how to respond to anything at the moment.

Hushed words eradicated any ill thoughts you were having of yourself, comforting in their genuine indication. He assured you he had been able to handle it, that he was able to handle the hard things that came along with being bonded with someone for life, for knowing someone for so long. For having already done something similar before. But yeah, that it had been scary but Frankie had been as detailed and direct as he needed to be, levelheaded in his description of what had happened and what immediately happened afterwards.

Frankie came up to you both as he entered back into the room, a hand on both your shoulders to get your equal attention. You looked up at him with watery eyes, feeling so proud of how everyone was trying to keep it together for you but guilty at the same time since it had been something they had been dealing with for weeks now.

“That was the airline, they need someone to come in and take over a few tours for double pay. I wouldn’t normally turn them down and I will if you need me here. You’re awake now and I want to be here with you.”

“Y-you should go, if you want to, if you need to.” Scratchy words spoken with what little conviction you could muster. He was conflicted, worried about making the wrong decision.

“You need me here.” He didn’t argue so much as read the thoughts in your mind as clearly as if you had displayed for him to see. “You want me here.”

“Yes, but….money is money, Frankie. For your house, for your daughter, for everything. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“I’m gonna run and get a coffee before you head out, I’ll stay the night, okay?” Taylor announced before he pressed a kiss to your temple and stood. Leaving you and Frankie truly alone for the first time since you woke up. You reached out to the man, gripping his open flannel shirt and lightly pulling him toward you. But he didn’t budge, his feet stable on the ground and his back not leaning to meet you. He wasn’t looking quite at you, but just beyond you. His eyes a little distant.

“I’m sorry.” Pulling your hands back to rest in your lap, you began to twiddle your fingers, unsure of what to do, unsure of why he was acting so weird and distant. Maybe he was just exhausted, mentally wiped out from waiting and waiting for you to wake up. Maybe…he was rethinking everything he’s once promised you…

“Hey, no, you don’t have to be sorry.” His eyes caught your own, his hands reaching out to hold your own as he kneeled down to be at your eye level. Emotions you couldn’t read swirling behind them. “I just- It’s just… you’re awake. And I’m so scared I’m going to open my eyes or wake up and you’ll still be unconscious…or passed.”

“I am awake.” You insisted, worried about this being an elaborate dream all the same. Some made up fantasy your brain concocted in its last moments and none of it was real, that you weren’t real anymore.

“I want to stay,” He pleaded with you, desperate for you to understand how hard it is for him to make the decision to leave, to heed the call of an entire week’s worth of pay in just a few days. But he had a plan and he had to stick with it, it would be for the best in the long run.

“C-can you stay tomorrow?”

“Of course, sweet girl. I promise. I just- this is important. For the both of us. I swear.”

“I believe you, Frankie. I love you.” You lifted your intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles. He repeated the words before he shrugged his jacket on and bid you goodnight. He didn’t kiss you back, instead squeezing your hands twice in farewell.

“Hermosa, I-I just-“ Frankie hung his head, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees the next evening.

He had gone home to change and get a little sleep after a hectic two days of back to back tours. A touch restful now that he knew you were awake, but still fleeting. His thoughts had been a jumble as his mind flashed your unconscious form across the backs of his eyelids. Bleeding, hyperventilating, being rushed into emergency surgery not once but three times. Of you completely still save for the slight rise and fall of your chest laid out in the hospital bed. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing or diminish anything but- just thank you.”

“You saved her, at such a great risk to yourself. But you did, you saved my little girl when I couldn’t. I have endless love and admiration for you, querida. Please, I am here for you. I will help you with whatever you need or want. And not just because of this, but…but until you don’t want that anymore. You’ve got me, sweet girl. I promise.”

The conviction in his tone was strong despite the way his words were pushed out with deep breaths, trying to keep his composure. His shoulders were quaking with the effort he was holding back another wave of tears. Too many emotions for him to handle since the second you had rushed in front of that gun aimed at his daughter.

“Come here,” You softly compelled him, trying to shuffle atop the bed. Feeling still numb below the tops of your thighs, only some control over your legs that you were trying not to dissect. Going over your charts and test results had helped a little, compartmentalizing that it was happening to you and mind working to help solve and reason the things you read as if it was a patient of your own. Work. And a lot of it was ahead of you.

Frankie shuffled up and out of his shoes, choosing to urge you forward softly so he could be the one resting against the back of the angled bed. He helped to situate you against his chest, his arms coming around you in a warm embrace, the smell of his cologne and body wash puffing up and surrounding you in a comforting way. He pressed kisses to the crown of your head, nose shuffling in your hair and making you sigh out at the human contact.

“I would do it again, in a heartbeat. Even knowing what would happen.”

“Te amo. Te tango mucho amor ti, querida.” He whispered hoarsely in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. All you could do was repeat the words to him, meaning them with everything in your very being. Bringing his hands up to rest over your heart, palms flat over your chest, you both just laid there soaking up each other’s company.

His thoughts took over as you felt your breathing even, reaching over to silence the television that had been playing quietly in the corner where it was installed high on the wall.

‘Everything was so loud, a cacophony of too sharp frequencies grating on his ears as he watched the way your body fell to the ground. The man with the gun fleeing from the scene as soon as the gun had fired, steps heavy as he ran as fast as he could. Pope taking off immediately after him, his own gun pulled from the holster attached to his belt. Permission to carry it around off the clock from one of the local military bases where he worked as a freelance advisor.

Frankie was rushing too, toward you. Toward his daughter. Toward you both. There was a pool of blood forming beneath you, having twisted yourself to prevent from falling on top of Alexia’s smaller frame. She was kneeling beside you, tears running down her cheeks as you reached up to cup her face. A pinched expression on your features and blood blooming dark low on your front. His little girl turned to him as he crashed to his knees behind her and brought her in a crushing embrace to his chest, hearing the hum of the crowd that had begun to form all around.

Shouts to call 911 and responses that more than one person was already speaking with officers, telling them of what had just happened.

She begged him to help you.

She begged him to save you.

Shouting at him in her small voice that she loved you and she knew he loved you too.

She buried her face in his chest as he leaned forward to try and get your eyes to focus on him, but you were barely able to keep them open. Lashes fluttering as your breath became labored. He was speaking, words falling from him as he fell back on years of training. Pinging questions off one after the other, getting no response from you for even one. Unresponsive in the worst way, body completely laid out before him and eyes now completely closed. You could’ve been sleeping, as you were still for a fleeting moment.

But then you started to convulse, body fighting against the bullets that had landed deep in your body. He tried to tilt your head toward him, to avoid you biting on your tongue or choking on your own breath.

A new set of hands was taking over, gently ushering him away as paramedics appeared on the scene.

He could only hold tight to his sobbing daughter as he watched the two technicians tend to you. Your chest ceasing heaving at an alarming rate, your breath almost rattling as your lungs desperately tried to keep working.

Blinking rapidly, Frankie focused his eyes on his hands curled over the controls in front of him. He was flying, the landscape of the city and surrounding greenery, the ocean all laid out before him. He was okay, you were okay. Alexia was okay.

He was at work. He was okay.

His fingers twitched at the clueless ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ of the tourists clamoring for views outside the windows. Their voices coming in clear through the headsets they wore to match his own. Completely in their own world and no problems plaguing them. Carefree.

He was at work. He wasn’t okay.

He should’ve stayed with you.

He should’ve turned down the offer.

But he had run at the first opportunity. Unable to stop the events from replaying in his mind on a loop.

Preventing him from sleeping, preventing him from being able to look at you half the time. Seeing you as you had looked right after the attack, seeing you as they rushed you onto the ambulance, seeing you as your chest went completely still once loaded up. The way your body didn’t respond to the attempts of resuscitation.

Mind torturing him by projecting you laid out in an open coffin. Copper hair resting around your lifeless frame, beautiful face covered in the wrong shade of makeup, hiding the freckles that dotted your face from him. Forever closed eyelids hiding your bright eyes from him. Black dress hiding your soft skin from his twitching fingers, itching to trace the delicate ink that decorated your skin. A masterpiece taken from him in a cruel twist of fate.

Shaking his head minutely, he shoved the fake notions out of his head and pivoted the helicopter toward the coast. Following and announcing the route for the tour that the people sat behind him had requested.

He was at work and he didn’t think he’d ever be okay again. But he would try for you, because you were awake and waiting for him to return to you.

He pulled his sunglasses from where the frames were hanging from his collar and covered his reddening eyes.’

“Come on, two more steps and we’re home free.” The physical therapist was encouraging in the most grating of ways. Your normally polite and civil personality being shattered by the turn of events your life had taken. It was a lot of work now, but it had been a lot of work to initially discover that you had only minimal feeling and control over your lower half. Hips sore no matter how much medicine was added to your IV, legs numb and unresponsive more often than not.

But that didn’t stop the doctor from putting you on a physical therapy track of two appointments per week. Something you had thought was a lot right off the bat but not wanting to argue. Just as angered by the quick pace as you were determined to stick to it. It was the second week since waking up, discharge looming like a storm over the horizon, visible but not yet tangible.

There had been talk about Taylor renting a home to move into for the duration of your recovery. His son being taken care of by his co-parent back home with school having started. But Frankie had offered up his own home, a flush to his caramel skin as he did so. Not having wanted to ask you to move in under such dire circumstances. But he would be lying if he said the thought of offering you a space in his home hadn’t been on his mind lately.

Taylor had offered to split his time between Frankie’s and the apartment above the shop. An outpouring of love from the community delivered to the shop and hospital in overwhelmingly equal parts. Baskets of treats, flowers, cards, vouchers for services from all around the city and local vendors. Everything was being toted back between the two spaces that were now yours.

Lex indulging in the treats as she sat with you in the afternoons after school. Homework laid out before her atop the bed as you helped her with her math and writing. Different people picking her up while Frankie returned to work, determined to put in as many hours before he took two whole weeks off to help you transition to being home once you were discharged.

But right now, you were stood on shaking legs, arms braced heavily on the bars on either side of you as you stood between the set up of the parallel bars. Sweat dripping from your hair thrown up in a haphazard bun, skin sallow from the medication you were on a strict rotation of. You had forgone shoes, insistent that you wanted to be able to feel anything should it come back to you while practicing.

Your arms were shaking, holding up the entirety of your body weight on them, muscles straining and tattoos looking distorted with the flex of them. With a huff, you shifted your hips, right leg lifting slightly and managed to shuffle it about a foot before placing your foot down flat and tipping forward to even your weight with the new stance.

“Alright, you did it!” The nurse was a kindly young man, his arms hovering behind you as he waited for you to tap out. But you sucked in a deep breath and concentrated. Shifting your left foot ahead in the same manner before a spike of pain shot up from the arch of it as you settled it flat on the mat.

“Fuck! Okay, okay, I’m out. That’s all I got.” You wavered, arms shaking and legs beginning to tingle where you could feel them.

“That’s okay, you did good today. Four steps is progress.” The nurse helped you, gathering your form in his arms and lifting to get the pressure off your aching shoulders.

Santi was in the room when you were wheeled back, no sign of Taylor or Frankie. He informed you that they were both taking care of something for you which made you feel a little uneasy that they hadn’t told you themselves the night before that they wouldn’t be in to see you today. The nurse let the man take over with helping you get back into the bed, knowing you’d rather it be someone who you knew handling you for something a little more intimate of a move.

The man’s broad shoulders tensed as he supported your nearly dead weight, completely at a loss of energy from the days activities.

“Did they say where they were going?” You inquired, voice soft as you nuzzled your face into the man’s neck. He smelled so good and you were just in a very physically affectionate mood in wake of not getting any direct attention from Frankie in the way you were too hesitant to ask for.

“Mante, you know I would tell you if I knew, but they were like school boys, shuffling their feet and avoiding eye contact. I’m sure it’s just a surprise for you, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

You were quiet for a moment, allowing the man to situate your aching legs as best he could and covering you up with the blankets that had been brought from your apartment. He busied himself with getting a take out bag unpacked and placing containers over the collapsable table attached to the bed for you. A cup of coffee that smelled of caramel and foamed milk pressed gently into your reaching hands. He was so diligent, the soft curls of his graying hair falling over his forehead as he focused. When everything was set up, he settled into the chair beside the bed with his own container and began to dig in.

But you were still, only a sip taken from the hot coffee handed to you.

“Santi…”

“What is it, hermosa?” He looked up from his food, utensils loaded up and a bite halfway to his lips. “I get the wrong thing?”

“No,” A small smile offered to him as your heart fluttered in your chest, unsure of how to even broach the concerns that were crashing over you in overwhelming waves. “No, this is great. Thank you.”

The man watched you, eyes scanning your face as you averted your eyes. He let out a quiet sigh and set down his utensils completely, asking you to tell him what was really on your mind.

“Frankie…he, um, he-“ You felt like a complete idiot as your face heated up, tears welling in your eyes unbidden. Foolish question, it was such a foolish thing to be worried about when the man’s words were nothing but reassuring and loving. “Why won’t he kiss me, Santi?”

“Is that what you need right now?”

You warbled out an affirmative. Feeling for all the world like a pathetic lovesick fool even surrounded by everyone who you could possibly need in your life right now, everyone working together to help you in any way possible.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

A shake of your head was all the answer you could muster up.

“He’s probably just trying to respect you, not wanting to put pressure on you to be that way with him if you’re too overwhelmed.” Santi went on to explain that his best friend had trouble with stuff like this, showing his affection and feelings in wake of traumatic events.

That you should try not to worry too much, though he knew that was easier said than done. To not take it personally, but he admitted to knowing that might be hard to do as well, everything so much at the moment. He reminded you that you could reach out to you with anything at any time. He would try his best to be there for you in any way that he could. Even jokingly offering to pepper kisses over your face and approaching you with overly pursed lips until you erupted into a laughing fit at how ridiculous he looked as he loomed closer. He sealed the conversation with a genuine press of his lips to the corner of your mouth, his hands cradling your face in their warmth before he moved back to his seat and ordered you to eat.

Across town, Taylor and Frankie had a similar conversation as a bell dinged above them where it was nestled in the doorway to a shop front. The two men determined to surprise you with something that Frankie had quietly brought up one night following your first rush into emergency surgery. An approval of sorts he had been seeking after was granted instantaneously with a smile and words of encouragement from the only other man he felt like he could share the conversation with at the moment.

“Discharge papers should be processed by end of day, looks like you’ll be spending the night in your own bed.” The doctor offered you a small smile. She had been worried about having you under her care when she found out you were a once trained medical technician, knowing how bad of a patient she was when sick herself. But you had surprised her, not talking over her or voicing opinions on what needed to be done. It had been another week, progress made in physical therapy.

You were able to walk the length of the parallel bars, slowly and with a lot of huffing and puffing. But it cleared you for outpatient treatment. The feeling in your legs was spotty, coming to you mostly in the mornings when you first woke up and at the end of the day after resting for a few hours. Something she was only mildly worried about, muscle atrophy from being unconscious for so long lingering even now.

But she had been confident that the feeling would come back completely, though she was honest when she said she was worried about numbness flaring up.

That’s how you found yourself seated in the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck as he pulled into the drive of his house. He was waiting for the garage to open, in order to make it easier for you to walk straight into the laundry room instead of having to attempt to tackle the stairs to the front door. Everyone would be over tomorrow, to celebrate your release. Giving you a free night to settle in and mentally deal with the shift in environments. Lex would be at her grandparents so Frankie could focus on getting you settled.

“One moment, just…want to get something set up before I help you out, okay?” His earnest gaze widened his beautiful eyes, watching you and making sure you were alright to be left alone for a moment. He was through the door and back in the garage in a matter of minutes, a shy smile aimed at you as he helped you down and got a walked ready for you. It had a cushioned seat in the middle, in case you needed to take any breaks when trying to move about. Something you wanted to argue but didn’t have a good one against.

You felt…weird. Having to rely on him so much, but extremely grateful that he was willing to. You’d seen friendships and relationships fall apart with this much stress and similar situations. Both as a professional and a civilian, as a friend. You only hoped this wouldn’t be one of the last things he did for you before telling you it was too much, that you were too much. Love could only encompass so much before it wasn’t enough to hold two individuals together.

Melancholic and depressive thoughts abundant as you tried to come to terms with what the near future would hold for an unknowable amount of time. There was no timeline with things like this and that’s what worried you the most. What if you had flares of numbness for the rest of your life, what if he began to see you as a burden, as work he had to come back to after doing his shifts at the mechanics and his flying tours. What if all your progress was meaningless and you woke up one day with no feeling at all?

He had hushed you on more than one occasion with soft words, promises he wouldn’t do that. Promises that he was yours, that you were his, that you were in this together. But doubt crept in regardless. Even more so in the realization that he hadn’t wanted to kiss you. He was quick to dodge your advances, placing placating touches of his lips to your hair instead; of pulling you tighter to his body instead. Almost as if he was hesitant to show you affection in that way and it was hard to handle when all you wanted was that type of comfort from the man you loved so completely.

His hands were warm as he supported your weight, but he didn’t shift you down to the ground completely, instead he pulled you flush against him. Your own arms tightened around his neck, feet barely touching the ground as he ducked his head to kiss you fully for the first time since you woke up in that hospital bed. You melted into him even more, welcoming his lips against yours reverently, desperately.

The plush give of them against your own feeling like a true welcome home.

Shifting your hands up into his soft hair, you knocked the cap clear of his head as you parted your lips for him. He held you tight, not risking you putting too much weight on your own feet for even a second as he kissed you again and again, lips meeting yours in a dizzying display of his unfettered affection. Pulling at his curls, you pivoted his head to deepen another kiss, desperate for his touch and his taste. He groaned into your mouth, pulling back slightly to rest his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes slowly, watching the way his face was completely relaxed. The lines of his age smoothed out slightly as he moved to peck one last kiss to your slick lips.

He had set the table up before picking you up, at home during the day as he had received your hopeful text about the paperwork this morning. But he had run inside to pull everything from where it was keeping warm in the oven, lighting twin tapers set in the middle of the dining table. You tried to hide the squeal of surprise as he lifted you up completely, choosing to carry you bridal style over the threshold of the house and through the laundry room and into the kitchen.

“Frankie, you didn’t have to do all this.” You placed a kiss to his cheek as he carefully set you down into a chair, making sure your legs were situated how you wanted them. “I woulda been happy with a fast-food drive thru, you know that.”

“I know, but I wanted to do something special for you.” He moved over to the closest chair, settling down into it with a sigh. He looked nervous, you realized as you took in the dinner had had made before picking you up. One of your favorite dishes filling the kitchen with its tantalizing scent. The boys had snuck in food from time to time, but it had mostly been bland hospital food for a majority of the last three weeks.

Frankie cleared his throat, your eyes lifting from the items on the table and toward him.

In his hands was an emerald velvet box, open to reveal a simple gold band with a sparkling rhombus diamond in the middle.

Your lips parted, a gasp falling from them as your heart stuttered hard in your chest. Hands dropping the utensils you had just picked up clattered to the table and you stared across the table at him. At a complete loss for words as he nervously shifted in his seat and leaned closer toward you to take your hands in his own, the small box set down gently beside your plate. His hands were shaking slightly, his nerves obvious as he bared his soul to you with his next words.

“Sweet girl, I know things are going to be touch and go for a long while,” He took a deep breath, chest pulling the fabric of his shirt taut with the action. His tongue peaked between his lips, a habit you noticed when he had a lot on his mind, and he was trying to sort through everything. “But I don’t want you to worry about anything to do with us, with you and me. You have me, you have me until the moment you decide you don’t anymore. I hope you don’t ever change your mind because I’ve been gone on you since the second you aimed that glare in my direction all those months ago. Will- will you do the honor of marrying me?”

Tears welled up the longer you looked at him, his eyes so wide and open, his voice cradling you with his earnest words. All you could do was nod, voice caught in your throat.

He let out a deep exhale, pulling a giggle from you when he broke out into the widest, goofy smile you had seen on him yet. You mirrored him, lips pulling as you squeezed his hands and leaned forward to rest your forehead against them clasped together.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Fransisco. Of course.” You kissed the tops of his hands, one and then the other before you were pushing yourself up slightly, tentatively placing weight on your legs and surging forward to kiss him.

He only let you get away with one before he was standing from his seat and kneeling in front of you with the box in his hands. He carefully removed the ring from its spot nestled safely inside the velvet cushion and you held out your left hand for him. It took a second for him to place it securely on your ring finger, snug and perfect against your skin. It glittered in the candlelight and you felt a tear run down your cheek.

Frankie’s hands came up to cup your face, his lips connecting with yours as he chuckled breathlessly at having managed to pull out the surprise proposal. At your resounding yes. At the prospect of a concrete future with you.

“I love you so much, thank you for...for everything.”

“I love you too, you dork,” Your laugh sparkled against his parted lips. “I can’t believe you just thanked me for agreeing to marry you.”

“Well, you could’ve said no.”

“Not in a million years.”

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taglist: @tanzthompson @clevergirl74 @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @anoverwhelmingdin @jessthebaker @peppermintfury @for-a-longlongtime

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

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variousxreader · 3 months

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I DUNNO IF THIS WAS THE RIGHT INBOX OR NOT AAAAA

CAPTAIN KOBY HEADCANONS MY BELOVED

(Haven’t watched that far into One Piece, I’m at like episode 500 so sorry if these are ooc at all)

General

- Doesn’t like coffee, no matter how much sugar or creamer he puts in it’s always not quite right or to his liking, he’s the same way with some teas.

- Keeps a pocket sketchbook or some sort of small notebook hand, sketches or writes about things he sees or thinks about.

- Favorite animal would be otters, I feel like he would see them frequently while sailing and overall likes them for their smarts, such as using rocks to open shells. Though, he absolutely adores how they hold hands or hold their kin while they sleep or float to not get lost.

- Morning person, definitely. Almost always the first one up and awake, walking around and already doing things while everyone else is still in bed.

- While he has grown up and became stronger, he’s still an easy crier. He gets emotional over things and while he can shove down the need to cry, he finds some place private to let his emotions go. He doesn’t like it when people see him cry publically, he feels like that wouldn’t make him “strong” to anyone anymore, especially with everything he has to go through.

- Struggles with anxiety, and I mean this man is brimming with it. His habit of overthinking can lead him to peril, while he has been scolded for “not doing anything and risking lives” due to it, some of his decisions after that could seem reckless, as he wouldn’t even give a second thought to the first thing that comes to mind.

- Definitely sleeps hugging a pillow, cannot sleep without hugging or holding something.

- Personal headcanon (I don’t know if we ever learn about his family or not) I think that while yes he truly did mistake the Alvida pirate’s boat for a fishing boat, he really was trying to sail away for good that day. People in his life would always tell him that he cries too easily or was too skittish about literally everything, overall bringing him down for years of his life. Yes, it was ok when he was younger, but while this behavior continued, people yelled at him more about how he needed to “not be such a crybaby” and not be so afraid of everything. Even now, he has issues dealing with people yelling or raising their voice at him.

- Another personal headcanon, this fella is so trans masc coded to me. When he found Luffy he was scared at first of course, some random ass stranger popped out of a barrel. But what really sold him is that Luffy didn’t question him at all about how he sounded or looked different, but to be quite frank, Luffy doesn’t seem like the type of person to bring that up anyway. Yes, Luffy saved him and he’s happy about that, but he also saw how he was? How he actually wanted to be? AND inspired his dreams?? The boost of confidence he got from that still fuels him to this day as a captain, that’s why he still looks back to that day, the first day someone saw him for who he actually was and didn’t question him. Still questions to this day if he’s valid or even passing for that matter, but that memory always helps him with dysphoria.

S/O

- Loves spooning, he doesn’t care if he's big or little spoon, he’s perfectly content either being held or him holding you. Though, he does have the habit of being mostly big spoon since he wants to protect you and keep you safe.

- His love language would definitely be quality time, especially with how long he has to be gone for sometimes. When he comes back after whatever duties he had, all he wants to do is spend some time with you doing whatever. Could be something as little as just sitting and holding each other in silence, or something more like going shopping or on a date. Though, his favorite thing to do would probably be being able to snuggle up with the person he cares the most about and rest without having to worry.

- Love hugging his s/o from behind and resting his head on their back or shoulder, depending on his height.

- This man is all green flags, will absolutely pamper his s/o if they’re feeling under the weather and sooth them if they’re not feeling 100%.

Sorry for any spelling mistakes btw :3€

AAAAA GOD TIER HEADCANONS!!!! I love them all!!!!!!

Don't you worry, im crawling through Impel Down, dreading 482 and what comes after 🙃 Ace girl things™️

But AAAAA no SADS JUST KOBY

This man has abused golden retriever energy, like rescued and bounced back and is the healthiest boy now.

He is a literal cinnamon roll!!!!!

God he'd cry over every animal he sees because its so cute. Like "S/O! Look!!!!! At them!!! Can we adopt them?!" Its so hard to say no

I loveeeeeeee the idea of him falling for a Pirate. Man is so upset about it too at first, like he is so in denial about it. Till a silly fanfic esq situation gets them alone and he can't deny the attraction, physical and emotional anymore?! Chefs kiss the drama!

I also love the idea for Trans masc Koby, that Garp is just like Luffy in his acceptance, like hes so confused as to why people would be upset that Koby identifies as a man. "You say you're a man so you're a man. " simple as that.

Also, forehead kisses on his scar!!!!!

Steal his bandana to tie up your own hair, the mans heart nearly stops and he clutches his chest.

Also i love the idea of his S/O trolling Alvida in subtle ways. As petty revenge on Koby's behalf. Like just any chance they get, they fuck with her. Steals her hat or something just goofy shit that you know would drive the unhinged woman mad.

Koby would 10/10 write little love poems in that notepad/ sketch book for his s/o or crush. Not that he'd be brave enough to share. He could be convinced. Lol

Hes a precious little Peony

#one piece x reader #koby one piece #koby x reader #coby x reader #coby one piece

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herbatka-z-nieba · 1 year

Text

Obey me! Brothers reacts to “South Park”

Soo… the MC is fan of South Park, and please the brothers to watch it.

Lucifer

Don’t like it but don’t hate it either

He think that this type of humour is really stupid

A little bit disappointed on MC taste of humour

Likes Stan and Craig (idk why)

Mammon

His type of humour

He said that this is stupid but really liked it

Likes Kenny but his fav character is Princess Kenny

Feel bad for butters sometimes

Sings the intro every time

Leviathan

For sure he was in SP fandom since 2015

Really liked that MC also likes South Park

He watch with MC newest episodes

His favs are Mysterion and Pc principle

Kins Tweek

Ships Craig x Tweek and Stan x Wendy (well, these are canon and I think Levi likes canon stuff)

He had an “Randy Marsh simp” era

Asmodeus

Don’t like it

Only likes Paris Hilton episode

But tbh he likes Bebe

Satan

This show is “too silly for him”

I mean he watched only 3 seasons because of Levi in the past and like it

But for him the newest seasons didn’t were great especially Tegridy farm

Likes jimmy, Kyle and Clyde

Beelzebub

Emm he likes some of the episodes but not a big fan of the series

Likes Liane but he don’t know she is aaaa (y’know)

Also feels bad for butters

Sometimes he sings loo loo loo (butter’s song)

Belphegor

Kins Craig

Fan of Eric Cartman

Tbh he enjoy the show

He even has a Cartman plushie

MC is really concerned why Cartman, and he says that he inspires him

Now MC sleep with knife 😃

________________________________

I wrote this on Mobile, English isn’t my first language, some of the characters are ooc, and this is first time I wrote smth like that and posted on tumblr. SORRY!

If someone speaks polish there so I got one thing to say „tak trch z dupy mi to wyszło no ale trudno się mówi no, przepraszam!”

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superlinguo · 5 months

Text

Barb Kelly

This time last year came the sudden, unexpected news of the death of Barbara F. Kelly's. Barb Kelly was one of my undergraduate lecturers, my principle PhD supervisor, and eventually a collaborator and friend. I have mentioned Barb in passing on the blog over the years, but now we've muddled through a year without her, I finally feel like I have some space to reflect on the fact she has been one of the most important influences the course of my life.

Barb was many things to many people. She managed to do this by being deeply curious about people, and had a devastatingly compelling ability to give you her full attention when you were talking with her. She was interesting because she was interested; her friendships, hobbies and tastes were eclectic and wide-ranging. There's a really beautiful obituary from our colleague Nick Evans that captures the story of Barb's life. This is my story of how Barb shaped me as a linguist, a researcher and a person.

I first encountered Barb when she was teaching in my final year of a Bachelor of Arts. The third year subject Language and Culture was a romp through kin terms, colour theory, names, primates, spatial systems, social intelligence, politeness, and so much more. Barb was an enthusiastic lecturer, with anecdotes, contextualisation and rich examples every week.

One week she introduced us to the topic of gesture. I was intrigued! How had I made it through a whole degree without encountering this work! (now that I write courses, I know how hard it is to find space in the curriculum for every topic worthy of attention, and gesture rarely features at all in undergraduate coursework). At the end of the lecture Barb said "this is one of my favourite topics. You're not allowed to do you're final assignment on this unless you see me first, because I don't want to read a bad assignment on this topic."

I still remember when I went to talk to her about it, and experienced the full intensity of the undivided attention of Barb Kelly for the first time. At some point, mildly bewildered by all this new reading, I wondered how we even knew that people paid attention to different types of gesture. "I always thought that would be a good topic for an honours thesis," Barb mentioned, before walking me back to something more manageable for a class paper.

[A brief time jump: The last time Barb and I caught up, it was getting to the end of the year and we were trying to avoid editing a paper. Somehow we got talking about the first time we met. Barb's main recollection was: "You were so weird." Barb thought it was very funny, but I also think that being interesting to Barb Kelly was a delightful compliment.]

A couple of weeks later, I went back and asked "could... I be the person who did that paper you mentioned?" At the very end of the final semester of my degree, I threw in my plans for a fourth year of Art History. I'm not usually one to change big plans so dramatically, but I decided that I wanted to do linguistics if I got to do the kind of linguistics Barb did. Of course, many years later when we were talking about it she laughed "I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't want you to do it!"

That's how we got working on a small honours project to see what kinds of gestures and other movement people report that they pay attention to. It was an in-the-spirit replication of an old task Adam Kendon set up in the 1970s with a projector and silent film, but we used a computer and software that let people mark what they thought a gesture was (this became, many years later, Gawne & Kelly 2014). Just as I was finishing up data collection Barb disappeared. She had colorectal cancer and (although I didn't know this at the time) the prognosis was terrible.

At the end of that year I felt quite lost. I had finished the project, but didn't really know what to do next. I managed to get an office job for a while; it was fun to have a steady income after years of student life, but I got bored pretty quickly. I had planned a long nonsense holiday in Europe to distract myself. Barb had returned to work and I emailed her about catching up for coffee. I even fact-checked this in my email archive, and apparently I asked to "pick [her] brain about post-grad courses". It's easy to forget, with the benefit of hindsight, just how little idea I had of what I could do, what I should do or how I should go about making any of it happen. The only people I knew who had PhDs were the ones who taught me. I do remember we talked about where there was good work being done, the difference between Australian/UK and North American PhD programs and what kind of topics I might do. Barb then mentioned that she had a project she was working on and they were looking for someone do contribute by doing a PhD on evidential systems of a Tibeto-Burman language from Nepal. How was I meant to come up with a better idea than that? She promised me that her oncologist gave her at least the four years I needed to finish a PhD, because I am excessively practical and Barb had a very good sense of humour. I mailed my application to do a PhD at The University of Melbourne from a post office in Malta while on my holiday. I only mention this because it sounds very nonsense and like something form the 1930s.

[A disclaimer here: I usually strongly discourage students from staying at their undergaduate institution for graduate study. But I also point out I'm a giant hypocrite and staying at UoM to work with Barb was a good decision for me. Please take into account the survivor bias. Barb believed in me and that was more useful than anything another institution could have provided]

The week before I started my PhD with Barb, we caught up off campus with Sara, another PhD student who was about to start working with Barb. Barb used it as an opportunity to explain to us that even though a PhD would be big and demanding and important, it was also important that we didn't let it stop us living the rest of our lives, "if you need to, take a break to tour with a band or have a kid, that's important too" I was worried she was maybe expecting I had time to start a band as well as do a PhD? but it also left a lasting impression on me. She was so good at talking through the linguistic content of what I was doing, but also socialising me into the expectations of academia, while being realistic about life also happening. With Rachel Nordlinger as co-supervisor and Jill Wigglesworth as chair, they were an amazing, sometimes slightly terrifying, dream team who took their roles as supervisors, teachers and mentors seriously.

After my PhD, Barb joined me in the work with Andrea Berez-Kroker on data management. We also tinkered away on other things; including getting my honours thesis published. She helped me plan job applications, and even loaned me her office when I had video interviews. When I left Melbourne for post-docs we'd meet in different corners of the world. She was supportive and practical during many of my less optimistic moments while I was precariously employed. I enjoyed that my postdoc work allowed me to return to gesture, and spend more time doing lingcomm stuff, while still continuing to do work on evidentials and language documentation. Having Barb as a role-model mean that I normalised having a range of interests as a strength. I still spend a lost of time at a desk, but it's as far away as possible from the monotonous office job I left to come back to do a PhD.

In late 2020 Barb had a cardiac arrest. When La Trobe offered me an ongoing job in that same week, I apologised to her for texting her while she was in ICU. Obviously this is important because I'm the protagonist of my own story, even though it's a story about Barb, but I also wanted to mention it because a recurring theme in conversations over the last year has been "but, even when she technically *died* she still came back", which hasn't really helped things sink in.

I am pretty much the age Barb was when we first met. And, a couple of years into a tenured teaching/research role, I'm in a similar place professionally. And that's very much thanks to Barb. Without Barb I would not have done honours in linguistics, and I would not have come back to do a PhD. I wouldn't have been ready to face the grueling academic job market, and I wouldn't have normalised the importance of having more in life to define you than your job.

I miss talking with Barb all the time. There have been moments in the last year when I've been introducing someone to the bouba/kiki test, writing about my favourite gesture papers or talking through a problem a grad student is having with their writing, and I get to continue Barb's passion and enthusiasm. I am so grateful for the influence she has had on me as a linguist, teacher, supervisor and human, and I'm grateful I get to pass that on.

Co-authored papers This is a list of all the published papers for which we were co-authors. I'm proud that they represent a good range of our shared interests across gesture studies, language documentation, and data management. We have one more forthcoming paper, a handbook chapter on discourse in Tibeto-Burman languages, which is the other major area of shared interest that carried through my PhD work and beyond.

Gawne, Lauren, Chelsea Krajcik, Helene N. Andreassen, Andrea L. Berez-Kroeker & Barbara F. Kelly. 2019. Data Transparency and Citation in the Journal Gesture. Gesture 18(1): 83–109. https://doi.org/10.26181/5f57fddc85ebb [Superlinguo blog post]

Berez-Kroeker, A.L., L. Gawne, S. Kung, B.F. Kelly, T. Heston, G. Holton, P. Pulsifer, D. Beaver, S. Chelliah, S. Dubinsky, R. Meier, N. Thieberger, K. Rice & A. Woodbury. 2018. Reproducible Research in linguistics: A position statement on data citation and attribution in our field. Linguistics 56(1): 1-17. https://doi.org/10.1515/ling-2017-0032 [Superlinguo blog post]

Gawne, L., B.F. Kelly, A.L. Berez- Kroeker & T. Heston. 2017. Putting practice into words: The state of data and methods transparency in grammatical descriptions. Language Documentation & Conservation 11: 157-189. [OA PDF] [Superlinguo blog post]

Gawne, L. & B.F. Kelly. 2014. Revisiting ‘significant action and gesture categorisation. Australian Journal of Linguistics 34 (2): 216-233. https://doi.org/10.26181/5e4b684d8f1e9

Gawne, L., B.F. Kelly & A. Unger . 2010. Gesture categorisation and understanding speaker attention to gesture. In Y. Treis & R. De Busser (Eds), Selected papers from the 2009 conference of the Australian Linguistic Society. Melbourne: La Trobe University. [PDF]

#language #linguistics #Barb stories #PhD

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kamiko1234 · 10 days

Text

I'm bored rn so imma just info dump all my favorite Arthur headcanons y'all XD

Arthur uses a BUNCH of very expensive and flowery perfumes. That man is smelling like the most expensive shit you can imagine

He also uses a BUNCH of hair products. He spends ATLEAST 20 mins in the shower JUST dealing with his hair. It's very thick and horrid to take care off.

On the topic of hair, he takes AGES to get his hair done in the morning. As someone with the same hair type and base hairstyle, let me tell you brushing it out once it get's tangled enough can be a straight-up NIGHTMARE.

The reason for his hairstyle (part of the hair open with the other over it in a ponytail) is that he needs access to his hair for sacrifices. Having it all up in a ponytail or smth would mess with that access, especially since he also needs it quickly. But wearing the entire hair open also wouldn't be an option since it would get in his face and bother him during fights. So, he compromised and got to the hairstyle we know and love him with now XD

When he feels safe and has no need to be alert or expect any fight, he wears his hair in a bun or some other way to keep it out of the way.

He's one big softy for his family. You don't normally see it since Jeremiah/The Uzais as a whole just aren't very affectionate people, but Arthur is a total pushover for them (THEY DON'T DERSVE ARTHUR OMFG)

The man is LOADED. Like, no joke he's RICH. In the same vein however he also has no conception of his actual wealth 💀 He's buy a 1000 dollar flask of wine or smth and think that's completly normal and reasonable.

The eight languages Arthur speaks and the reasons for them are :

1. English ("world language", can easily communicate with most people, also thinks he's part english)

2. Japanese (shown in the manga, used to live in Japan during Section 13)

3. Italian (works at the Vatican, which is in Italy, and also grew up there with the Uzais from 15 on)

4. French (Thinks he's part french, also general european culture, he's just fancy)

5. German (General european culture, he's just fancy)

6. Mandarin (Most spoken language in the world, helps with communication in asia)

7. Russian (Biggest country in the world, also was later stationed in Russia when the fake Gehenna Gate came up so maybe he knows atleast a bit of the language ?)

8. Greek (general culture, he's just fancy)

He also knows how to speak a bit of Latin due to being raised at the Vatican, and thus coming into contact with these things.

While Arthur does canonically has the Tamer Meister, he's genuine shit at it and dislikes it. He barely passed the exam, and he holds no love for the craft at all. He has an affinity for kin of light.

In terms of his fake heritage, he feels more connected to his "French side" than his "English" one.

The emotionless and detached behavior young him had during that flashback in the Blue Night time travel arc came from an emotional response, and not the elixir experiments. The reason for that is that he seems reasonably emotionally involved post-amnesia. With that I mean that Arthur does show genuine emotion, opinions and is overall more livley. The emotionless and dull stuff was a coping mechanism to deal with constantly being surrounded by death and the possibility of it for himself in Section 13.

That coat he wears is HEAVY.

Arthur is actually a pretty nice guy outside of business and all the demon hate. He's great with kids, even if he is more than a little dense.

He has a whole collection of ribbons for his hair with all sorts of different colours and patterns for different outfits and occasions.

Arthur's favorite colour is blue, specifically royal or prussian blue.

(omfg I forgot to add this one in the initial Post BUT-) Arthur sleeps in a bed with a frankly abnormal amount of pillows. Like that thing is SOFT AS FUCK. You sink into it like water.

AANNNDDDDD that was all ! Thanks for listening ^^

#plz share your thoughts and opinions on these with me XD #blue exorcist #ao no exorcist #arthur auguste angel #arthur a. angel #english isn't my first language #headcanons

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kami-kun1003 · 1 year

Text

twst as things me and my friends have said on discord part 2

(warning: nsfw language and mention of religion)

Riddle: What does monster energy taste like?

Silver: I don’t know, I guess it would depend on the type of monster? And what sort of energy it has.

Silver: WAIT DID YOU MEAN THE DRINK?!

Sebek: [laughing]

~~~

Cater: Anyone else have glass bones and paper skin?

Ortho: You guys have skin?

Floyd: What’s skin?

Lilia: I believe it’s when you feel deeply connected to a character to the point where you believe you are that character, whether reincarnated from a past life or from an alternate universe.

Idia: No, that’s kin. Skin is when someone makes rapid noises or movements while feeling an intense emotion, usually autistic people do it.

Azul: No, that’s stim. Skin is when something is extremely similar to another thing, to the point where they’re practically the same.

Vil: No, that’s akin. Skin is when you quickly read a page of words without properly processing them in your mind.

Jade: No, that’s skim. Skin is when you go into water.

Silver: No, that’s swim. Skin is when something or someone turns around in circles repeatedly.

Yuu: No, that’s spin. Skin is when you commit a crime against religious laws.

Ace: No, that’s sin. Skin is like updog.

Deuce: What’s updog?

Ace: Oh not much, what’s up with you?

Trey: Great job everyone.

~~~

Yuu: Power move: flirt with the waiter.

Ace: How is that a power move? What if you were male and the waiter was also male? (Or if you were female, and the waitress was also female?)

Deuce: [blushing] Oh my god, they were male and male…

Jack: [also blushing] Oh my god, they were female and female…

~~~

Lilia, texting: Get over here sulfur

Lilia: SILVER I MEANT SILVER

Sebek: SULFUR?!

Malleus: [sends a pic of actual sulfur]

Malleus: This is what he looks like when Crewel’s done with him.

Lilia: [loses his shit]

~~~

Deuce: What does “fap” mean?

Yuu: It means poggers

Deuce: Oh okay :D

[later]

Deuce: HEY HEY

Deuce: YOU DID BIG LIE. BIG.

Deuce: FAP DOES NOT MEAN POGGERS.

Yuu: >:)

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bilbobagginsomebabez · 1 day

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i tend to replace fear with anger so i feel insane about how scared people are of cultural diversity when it's the the technology that's going to save us all.

cultural traditions are in and of themselves a technology to cultivate the skills and values needed to meet the group's physical needs and maintain social cohesion. it's a type of accumulated knowledge, we do x thing for x reason. for example, the old testament says not to mix linen and wool not because of the moral paradigm but because it sucks ass, doesn't really work, and counteracts the benefits of each type of fabric. the heat retention and stretch of wool ❌❌ the breathability and durable, non-stretchy nature of linen. you also probably don't want to get caught outside in a partially wool garment in an arid region. keep it on and overheat and die, or take it off, dehydrate, and die anyway but also burn your skin off in the process. unpleasant results no matter what. so just don't.

the inuit teach incredible anger management skills and consider it deeply humiliating and childish to lose your temper. because they live in remote places in small dwellings and need to get along. it is a requirement to keep the peace when it's like -60 degrees out and nobody can physically leave or stray far from the fire and warmth of other bodies or they will straight up fucking die.

celtic folklore tells of kelpies, who lurk in pools and will lure you with promises of adventure before dragging you down into the depths (don't swim in pools you aren't familiar with or you will drown.) my grandma taught me to bribe the house fairies with notes and soft pieces of cloth left in nooks and crannies when you've lost something (go pay specific attention to places you usually ignore.)

the haudenosaunee (iroquois) seventh generation principle teaches environmental awareness by requiring that you protect the next seven generations of all your kin, every member of the system, animal(humans are included here) and plant alike.

the knowledge you have, the language you learned it in, and the terms and the connotations that were used to explain it all direct paths of thought and imagination that a person has. if you live in a culture that hates and fears insects, bugs are introduced to you in hostile language, conceptualized for you as pests and interlopers, and you're told that the right thing to do is get rid of them. the word "bug" is itself hostile-- "don't bug me." you have to personally really fucking love bugs to see beyond that framework and the social stigma attracted by violating it to become an entomologist. the culture that does not hate and fear insects has many more entomologists. the culture that loves them has more entomologists than anybody else. the culture that has more entomologists has a better understanding of ecosystems, and will accumulate a more comprehensive body of ecological knowledge over time. i'm using insects here as a stand-in for gross or alien aspects of the natural world and by extension the concept that the animal homo sapiens is superior to and can be separated from nature. which is a stupid ass concept that fucked western/european ecological thought from the jump.

that accumulated body of knowledge will influence other types of thought, particularly how you think of and understand systems. a vast body of ecological knowledge lends itself to understanding that a top-heavy system is unstable, that systems thrive on diversity and redundancy, that there are many ways to accomplish the same task and it's more likely the goal will be accomplished with various methods in play. you need bees and wasps and mosquitos to pollinate your plants. bees will ignore a plant that a wasp loves. the lives of both are purposeful, necessary. ecological thought tends to breed egalitarian imagination, and this is the soil from which the Seventh Generation Principle comes from. american indigenous nations do not have magic nature powers, they are descendants and inheritors of cultures that cultivated more comprehensive ecological knowledge than europeans did. much requires rebuilding, but the base assumptions of their ecological (and political) knowledge systems are not fundamentally fucked. so we should listen. landback

culture is cultivation, and cultivation bears fruit. the same way that negative attributes (kyriarchy, racism, homophobia, sexism) can be cultivated, positive attributes (anger management skills, ecological knowledge) can be cultivated, too. and here's the best fucking part, the most human of technologies: we can learn them from each other.

we can learn from each other!

we can learn how the inuit teach their children anger management and practice those skills ourselves. we can learn each other's little tricks for finding lost objects. we can learn the ecological principles that structure the Seventh Generation Principle. we can use this knowledge to change how we understand and imagine all our systems, to respect each other better, to never change a puzzle piece but recognize its curves and where they fit. to love the colors needed to make a beautiful and complex tapestry.

it's all right here. not at the tip of our fingers but already in our grasp! and it takes nothing but respect for the necessity of diversity. that others know things you don't, and that is a profoundly joyful thing.

#blur recognized

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vapolis · 14 days

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you're not wasting my time, don't worry <3 I'm sick in bed right now and can't do anything but read 😂 I'd love to hear more about sköll!

:D ty!!!

i have more (trivia-ish?) facts about my little skronkly sköll

her zodiac is a taurus (11th may) and her love language (giving) is words of affirmation and her love language(receiving) is physical touch. her mbti istj-a and her enneagram is type 5 wing 4.

(spice?)

sköll is generally a switch doesn’t mind being dom or sub but leans more towards sub (likes giving up control every now and then) and prefers topping though with people she REALLY trusts cough orla she will bottom. she’s into hair pulling, mild dirty talk.

on the surface she likes it rough and fast, though she melts if it is tender and soft and the person cradles her, telling her how well she’s doing praise kink praise kink praise kin-

when she kisses it is bruising and hard, desperate as though she is trying to crawl inside your skin and devour you at once, tinged with a sort of panic.

with orla though she is obedient, anxious to be told how well she is doing, enjoys being rough but not too rough.

with dante there’s a certain freeness she feels- that feelings of giddiness and risk she only gets from a fix or stepping over the edge of a cliff- and she likes that dante is kind (kinder to her than most people are and she drinks it up eagerly, more trusting than she should be, because rarely anyone is kind to her and she is begging for scraps) and somewhat tender she enjoys his exhibitionist streak, finds it exciting

sköll is generally quite stoic, brutal in a fight though if orla is mentioned she seems almost manic (😅😅😅)

sköll has slightly tan skin, snow-hued mullet, faded golden eyes, muscular long-limbed build, scars twining down her arms with an array of tattoos (the most notable being one of two wolves trying to devour each other in tandem, an eclipse and a daisy though that is faded with time) she has a ragged almost brutal appearance to her w her scrappy mullet, wolf-like eyes and sharp set of her jaw and slightly pointed teeth. she dresses in tank tops by herself, leather jackets, quite grey & white shades with metallic tones (shes a suit girlie😌

the reason i think sköll has such an idolatry view of orla is that she views orla having helped her “when no one else did” and the devotion blurred into something else attraction- over time! :)

sköll’s view on the cast is interesting- she views orla…well you probably understand by now😭😅 and is constantly in a battle of wills w jax (both have a devotion to orla that is somewhat blind= unhealthy relationship with a tinge of rivalry) she is drawn to dante and oddly lets down her guard with him. she feels somewhat at ease with echo and appreciates them <3

(thank you once again for listening about sköll :D i have a few ideas for the Pinterest board so i’ll work on that :) )

hello!! <3

had to look up that part about enneagrams but it's interesting that she's the philosopher!! the site I looked up said their biggest fears are to be incompetent and their biggest desires to be helpful and that's pretty on brand for what I'm going for I'd say!

being a bottom for orla is so. relatable lmao I'm not even playing. the energy she has is just enough to have people submit and sköll having a praise kink too is v funny. orla doesn't dish out praise easily but she could be persuaded to. with the right initiative 🤭

AND THEN being brutal for orla and so eager to place ohhhh she's gonna have fun with your merc. the more brutal paths next chapter will have a merc gain orla's approval a bit easier, that much I can say.

and then her feeling free with dante ohhhhh how different she is for them as opposed to orla. very interesting! I do think dante/delilah exudes a calmness and has a merc act at ease bc there's no real power dynamics between them. they're equals unlike orla and sköll seems to be very aware of it from what you've described.

love the way she looks. a bit scrappy, a bit starved of attention. wolf like to match her name. I love when things like that add up in the character design sm.

the thoughts of the cast is also quite interesting bc I do agree about jax. they have a similar devotion to orla that has apparently bled over into attraction!

you mentioning all the ro's but royal is funny to me tho icl. Ik it was probably an oversight, but when u think about it royal seems too good to fit into All That.

thank u again for talking abt sköll! u have a great insight of what the characters are like/feel like right now and how your merc fits into their dynamics <3

#asks #c: mc

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honey-minded-hivemind · 9 months

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The platonic yanderes I've mentioned before all have nicknames and relationships with their bby (a.k.a. you, the reader!). How they met their bby is considered a special, life-changing moment in their eyes, and they are protective in their own... special... ways. But that story will come at a later date. For now, I think I should delve into some smaller stuff , so let's explore the type of humor and nicknames between these platonic yans and their bby:

• 🧡Wolverine/Logan Howlett🦡: nicknames for his bby: pup, bub, darlin', shortstack (regardless of if you are shorter than him or taller than him)

Nicknames his bby gives him: Lo, Old Guy, Wulv, Mr. Cigarette Duet (the bby might have either been testing the waters with that one, or under anesthesia. People say weird things under that stuff)

Their humor: dry humor and small quips

• 🦁Sabretooth/Victor Creed🦷: nicknames for his bby: cub, fresh meat, whelp, kitten

Nicknames his bby gives him: Vic, Large Lion Man, Shere Khan, Mr. Backstabber (both literally and metaphorically, bby has seen him do both, it was messy)

Their humor: cat puns

• 🦡Wolverine 2.0/Laura Kinney💛: nicknames for her bby: fox, pearl, sibling-in-arms, honeybee

Nicknames her bby gives her: Laurel, Kin-ship, Baby Claws, Little Badger

Their humor: stand up comedy (where you pretty much do a spoken caricature of your life, poking fun at it, or something that happens to you)

• 🐺Daken/Akihiro🌀: nicknames for his bby: beautiful, doll, handsome, my favorite (insert sexuality/gender)

Nicknames his bby gives him: Wolf Guy, Seducter, Nature's Child, Lone Wolf (the bby calls him Seducter because they found out about his pheromone ability. And yeah, the bby poked fun at the fact it failed on the bby, because they aren't attracted to him in the least like that)

Their humor: quips and movie references

• 🔥Marvel Girl/The Phoenix/Jean Grey🦚: nicknames for her bby: sunshine, dear, sweetie, firecracker

Nicknames her bby gives her: Miss Marvelous, Venus, mind games, Jeanie

Their humor: inside jokes

• 😎Cyclops/Scott Summers🚨: nicknames for his bby: kiddo, shortstuff, kid, gremlin

Nicknames his bby gives him: Scout, Shades, Laser-Light, Ruby in the Rough (bby wanted him to feel good about his power, so they say those nicknames in a nice fashion)

Their humor: puns all the way

• 🥈Cable/Nathan Summers🤖: nicknames for his bby: tiny, powerhouse, tyke-bomb, brat (he means these nicely, even if he is gruff and stern)

Nicknames his bby gives him: Back To The Future, Terminator, Metal Man, Mr. Robocop (bby couldn't help themself, they saw so many nickname opportunities)

Their humor: banter and witty remarks

• 🎭Mystique/Raven Darkholme💙: nicknames for her bby: child, precious, dear, little heathen

Nicknames her bby gives her: Karma Chameleon, Blue, enchantress, The Blue Fairy

Their humor: witty and dry remarks

• 🎱Rogue/Anne-Marie🥀: nicknames for her bby: suga', hun, love, sweetheart

Nicknames her bby gives her: Miss-Anne-thrope, Marie, Killer Queen, lovedove

Their humor: Southern stand up comedy and phrases ("sweet Southern heat is not just a flavor", "sweeter than apple pie", and jokes of all the various animals found in the South, especially in weird and concerning places)

• ♠️Gambit/Remy LeBeau♥️: nicknames for his baby: Ace of Spades, imp, bebe, ma moitie

Nicknames his bby gives him: King of Hearts, Sugar and Spice, trickster, Jack

Their humor: poking fun at languages and their relationships (the English and French language are hard to master. Good job if you understand half of it, or even a little of it)

• 🌌Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner😇: nicknames for his bby: angel, treasure, friend, beauty

Nicknames his bby gives him: doll-baby (it is a Southern nickname, it means sweet, charming, and innocent, in my area), Angel of the Night, fluffball, Blue (Da Ba Dee)

Their humor: pranks. Pranks all around

These are all my opinion, and if you get the references, great job! If not, that is okay! These were my ideas of nicknames and humor for previously mentioned platonic yanderes (plus their bby's nicknames for them!). I hope you enjoyed these platonic yandere honeycomb thoughts!

#platonic yandere marvel #honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere x reader #yandere x-men #platonic yandere x-men #platonic yandere

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gojoshooter · 1 year

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Jjk characters reaction to Jujutsu kaisen !!

ft. Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, Gojo, Geto, Toji, Mahito

a/n: this is my first work ><!! english isn't my first language but hope u enjoy :)

(geto & toji are alive :D)

WARNING : manga spoilers

Yuji Itadori :

He's 17 in highschool

Was bored and binge watching netflix when he found out about this anime

Favourite character is Nanami because he thinks his 7:3 technique is super cool (my boy's eyes shine whenever he comes up on screen 🥺)

Thinks he can fix Geto

Secretly recommends Jjk to his closest friends since he wants to "gatekeep" this precious show and now they have to hear Yuji's rants about how one day he will fist fight Mahito

Obsessed with Jujusanpo

Fushiguro Megumi :

One of Yuji's unfortunate best friends who was recommended Jjk

Did not watch the show untill Yuji was falsely declared dead and he needed something to remind him of his best friend

Itadori is his favourite character (and we know why)

Becomes his comfort show

Looked up for the manga because he can't wait for second season and oh boy was that his biggest mistake... he cried his eyes out under his blanket reading Shibuya arc

Kugisaki Nobara :

Yuji told her about a "hot girl with green hair in specs who's exactly her type" in the show and yes that's all it took

Maki is her kin (what did we expect) and mentally notes to keep that her kid's name

Jumps on couch to hype up Gojo every time he beat ass

Tags official jjk on Twitter and rants to bring back the previous intro

Has her room filled with merches which she's proud to show off. One time when Yuji stole her favorite Maki hoodie he faced the wrath in form of her hammer

Gojo Satoru :

Heard Yuji recommend this show to his friends & decided to watch to "fit in" 🙄

Actually gets into it

Favourite character is Megumi and he roots so hard for him, one-sided arguments with Shoko to let her know how much potential this boy has and comes up with theories for the reason for his current personality

Replays the intro 5 times while humming loudly to the music that's his ritual

One day he shows up in his 'violin teacher Satoru' cosplay to the class and everyone is frustrated because how the fuck does he look so good and on-point

Geto Suguru :

Starts watching so Gojo doesn't have to fanboy alone

Favourite character is Gojo because he's his definition of a perfect sorcerer and lowkey wants his powers

Has made tons of jjk playlists

Yells "slay gurllll " when Nobara or Maki fight/do something mean

Has uploaded a cover of him and Shoko singing to the intro on youtube and guess who is sulking now

Toji Fushiguro :

Megumi put it up on the TV so he can re-watch the show with his dad as a method to bond with him

To his surprise his dad actually looks invested??

Favourite character is Yuta and he's very much fascinated by Rika

Little eyebrow frowns as he completely freezes in concentration during Yuta VS Geto fight scene and Megumi can't stop his giddy smiling

Calls Todo his 'son'

One day he calls out Megumi for having the same hair as that emo shadow kid and cackles hard to the point of tears

Mahito :

He's an anime youtuber

Has been requested for a reaction on Jjk multiple times so here he goes

Did no research so starts from movie 0 and he's completely clueless 😭

He's a Toji stan do i need to say more

Cheers for the bad guys because they're hot and even hypes them up sometimes

Has done Mei Mei cosplay

Gives manga spoilers to anime onlys mercilessly and has been canceled on twitter for the same

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #headcanon #jjk headcanons #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #satoru gojo #geto suguru #toji fushiguro #mahito #gojo headcanons #toji headcanons #megumi headcanons #new writter #jujutsu sorcerer

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nwlyvs · 2 years

Text

relationship with 25-ji

feat. mizuki akiyama, ena shinonome, kanade yoisaki, asahina mafuyu.

sfw, obviously. fluff.

afab s/o, but reader’s gender isn’t mentioned.

a/n: OOOkay, I kin all 25-ji characters and, of course, I love them w my heart! I have sm hc about them and ideas..

a/n 2 LOL: HELLO?? maybe i need to do this type of reactions scenarios etc w the fandoms i am rn🐱🩷 HELP WHHSBSBSB

Thanks for being with me, dear. . . .

“Just. . . Thanks for being with me, (name). .”

this girl oh woah

KANADE loves all of you, your personality, hair, eyes color, skin, height.. EVERYTHING ‼️‼️

she will gladly help you to know yourself and your identity, if you have problems or are confused about it.

loves spending time with you, especially when the two of you are alone. She tends to be more charismatic (not really) with you when she realizes that there is no one else around.

KANADE loves to write poems dedicated to you, mostly written with feelings from within.

KANADE is the type of girlfriend who would dedicate songs to you, writing the text “i was listening to this music and uhh I noticed the lyrics and i was thinking about you”. once you open the link, you will see that it is a love song (or in relation to how grateful she is that you are in her life ej)

she absolutely loves cuddling with you (she just don’t show it often), watching a show or listening to music together and then you two falls asleep (really).

“[reader], thanks for this. Really... with you, i know that i can continue to do this and be able to save people you did w me, i’m so glad to have you here right now, by my side・・・・ Thank you.”

when MAFUYU expressed her feelings to you, she was confused fr,,, she never had a feeling like ‘this’ (her words)

all she knows is that she doesn’t want you to leave her side, she has finally found someone with whom she can feel comfortable to the point of almost taking her ‘true’ feelings out on you. so please, [reader], don’t be cruel and don’t leave her alone (or im gonna be her next gf)

MAFUYU doesn’t express an ‘i love you’ in words, but rather in actions.

although it may not seem like it, she loves being with you. to be honest, i think that MAFUYU’s love language is quality time + acts of service. doing some homework together, in bed about to sleep while you watch something on TV, +. .

For MAFUYU, your silhouette alone is enough to make her feel safe and comfortable wherever she is. you have become her safe place since she knew she could trust you thanks to your actions

remember something‼️‼️: she will be infinitely grateful for all the times you were there for her, like when she revealed some of her true emotions in front of you while crying and you gave her words of support, while you hugged her protectively,,

she realized that you shared some of her true feelings, such as the desire to disappear from all the anguish. she realized that behind that beautiful smile there was also a person empty in emotions, however you were getting to know you little by little and she would use this as support to do the same until she rediscovered herself.

“[reader], thank you for everything you have done for me..

— made me feel somehow ‘alive’.. I want to thank you for everything, the only thing what i want now is to be with you as long as you allow me... without you, i don’t know what would have become of me....”

you met MIZUKI at school, a year before you moved. after coming back, you could see them more confident and you felt so proud of it. mainly for knowing that previously, they took it out their feelings on you

believe it or not, MIZUKI had feelings for you even before you moved in. and seeing you return, omg, they knew their feelings had never left

not only were they fans of your aesthetics, voice and appearance, they also loved your personality and acts. they knew that what they felt wasn’t just attraction once when talking to you someone started teasing them about the way they dressed, and you stood up for them.

“hey, who do you think you are to talk about someone’s dress like that? why don’t you look at yourself better? it’s your life. MIZUKI needs respect, like everyone. i don’t want to see you here, go away.”

lol they still remembers that day, and every time mizuki does they repeats in their head: “mizuki from the past would be screaming if they knew that I’m in relationship with [reader] now... AAAAKY&HJJKG-” u cant see but mizuki is SCREAMING and THEIR FACE RED ASF.

they love spending time with you and reminding you every day how much they love you, mentally thanking you for standing up for them past and present.

MIZUKI love language is quality time + affirmation words! maybe physical contact too.

MIZUKI invites you to their house most of the time, and it’d become routine that from friday to sunday you stay at their house all day (u know their sister btw, she LOVES YOU). they tend to fall asleep much faster being with you by their side, why? eeeaajwjaasy. knowing that they are with you, they feel much safer and more comfortable. they feel that you are protecting them from nightmares and practically everything bad (ofc)

whenever they have a bad day, they remembers YOU in their mind and a little spark of peace begins to sing in their head.

“H-Hey [reader]... I just want to tell you; thanks, thanks for everything. i can’t say how (w) much i love you. ever since i met you, you have always been there for me.

— defending myself, making me feel sure of myself. Really, i have so much to do to be able to show you how much I love you, and if i did, i’m sure it wouldn:t be enough..... thank u so much”

ENA was your best friend since you entered at Kamiyama High School, you met her thanks to Mizuki and Akito

thanks to your actions and words, she began to trust you. and believe me, she still remembers those days from years past when you encouraged her to keep drawing because you knew she would achieve whatever she wanted to achieve

DAMN she fell in love with you fast (n hard, literally can do ANYTHING for u)... she really considered you, considers and will consider you as her safe place 4ever

when she declared her feelings to you, she did it by means of a letter giving it to you herself, and then running away

我が神よ、東雲えな、愛してる・・

まあ、彼女はとても愛情深いです・・・そして、嫉妬深いので、注意してください。

anyways, she really love spending time with you. you are what she calls “motivation”

doesn’t know what to do to thank you, tbh

she called you just so she can tell you how much she loved you

— love! How are you, ENA? Did you eat something?”

— “oh oh, later! Don’t worry, and you... did you eat?”

— fufu, yep,,, ENA, you can’t tell me something like that. i need to be worried about you, since you always asking me if i eated, how i am, yknow”

— “uhhu [reader], that’s because i loooovee you. i called you because i just want to tell you i love you with my heart, you always cared about me, you always supported me, always telling me how good i am at drawing, hah. [reader], thank you so much. i don’t know how to make you know how much i love you!”

— ENA... i love you too, my silly..”

— woah, honey, it’s late. you said you have an exam tomorrow, so uhm. honey, sleep and sweet dreams, my love!”

then you heard a kiss on the phone

I LOVE THIS GIRL.

#pjsk mafuyu #project sekai #mafuyu x reader #asahina mafuyu x reader #kanade x reader #kanade yoisaki x reader #mizuki x reader #mizuki akiyama x reader #ena shinonome x reader #ena shinonome #mizuki akiyama #25 ji nightcord de #Nightcore at 25:00 #fluff #project sekai x reader #project sekai x you

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