#thank you francis i love you francis

[solplease]

dont need to go to my last class should i get a drink yes or no

[milliesfishes]

Just thinking about pk coryo yelling at you 🤭 not for no reason but you did something stupid maybe something that could’ve harmed yourself and he’s just aaanggrryyyy 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

OH!!!!!!

౨ৎ꣑ৎpeacekeeper coryo yells at you౨ৎ꣑ৎ

You hadn't thought it'd be a big deal. It was only an hour after the town's curfew, but Coriolanus was pulling you aside, ducking into an alley and taking off his helmet, letting it drop at his feet.

He tossed his gun aside, hissing, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Now you're a little embarrassed, eyes wide as you take in his anger. "I just wanted to see-"

"Do you know how dangerous it is for you to be out past time?" he was nearly shouting now, and you recoiled against the wall, shrinking back. He'd never yelled at you before.

Taking your arms, he squeezed them, leaning down. "You're my girl. You know what that means. You cannot be parading around like you can just do whatever you want."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, tears stinging your eyes as you looked up into his icy blue eyes. But once you did, you saw something soften in them.

He huffed affectionately, resting a big palm on the side of your head and stroking your hair with his thumb. When you leaned into his touch, you saw some of the tension leave his shoulders. Gruffly, he said, "I'll walk you home. Don't ever do anything like this again."

Offering you his arm, he guided you through the back streets and around the corners, keeping quiet. When you reached your little home, he kissed your forehead firmly, hand grasping your hair. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said stiffly, though his eyes betrayed fondness. "Remember what I said. Never again."

And with that he marched off, leaving you on your doorstep.

[senditothemoonn]

I don't know if you've done other vintage outfits before, but your recent post just made me think of France in a 50s dress, maybe the Christian Dior style from back then with the cinched waist and the full skirt! He'd look so classy 😌🩷

“It was as if Europe had tired of dropping bombs and now wanted to let off a few fireworks” 🎇 🎆

[sunnylolli]

Can you draw 60s or 70s Fruk

Indeed I can

[joansiesbeloved]

Ethel Kennedy's spirit shining down on their home. 💗

Shared by Kerry Kennedy on her Instagram.

[z0mbiekin]

AAAUUUUUUUUUGHHHH 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕*explodes*

[baylardian-1]

doodled my PMD hero OC Francis through her reincarnations :3

[saintaviator]

hi im not providing a screenshot cuz you know i voted a d you know i wouldnt lie. Can you draw rulaj and mirror francis maybe. Im evil also

buncha freaks

[VOTE FOR CAPTAIN LOVELACE HERE AND ILL DRAW YOUR REQUEST !]

[phatkochi]

I know damn well Francis is going to win that poll BUT PLEASE I'M PRAYING FOR AN OFFICIAL PEACH PEACH PLUSH

[ahopefulbromantic]

What do you do to celebrate the Feast Day of St Francis?? (i've never celebrated a feast day before)

For me the best way to spend any feast day is to:

Attend the mass! and get excited for the collect prayer and for the colors of the garments

Pray the Liturgy of the Hours, mainly lauds and vespers - they have special hymns and prayers about the saints and other features depending on what type of saint it is (martyr/virgin/scholastic), a hymn to St Francis rocks btw

Read about the saint, pray with them, spend some time with them - if you haven't read Canticle of the Sun yet, I can guarantee you'll love it!

If there is a special tradition or activity associated with the saint, it's awesome to participate in it, especially in a community. So for the feast of St Francis I blessed my animals and gave them their favorite treats ☺️

Have fun and happy feast!

[until-another-one-comes]

Do you think Mr Mosses belittled Francis for being too boring? That he didn’t win in that competition? Could be baseball, art, anything? That he could never amount to anything for being so useless and talentless? Does he actually love his son? If he does, is it conditional? Was he sad that Francis cut all contact with him?

Has anyone in school bullied Francis for being too average? Does he not have any friends?

Not boring, but that he doesn't stand out in anyway or possess any trait Emeric (calling him that from now on, its official. But you can still call him Mr Mosses) deems good. Its not enough that he has a son who by all means was a perfectly good kid who just wanted to do his own thing without standing out, his son needs to be special and talented and gifted and Francis is none of those things.

I can see Emeric forcing Francis to join in various activities like sports or other type of competitions, and expect perfect grades, but none of them worked out and with each failure he gets angrier and more disappointed with Francis.

Do any abusive parents love their children? Maybe they do, but if its conditional its not love to me, its expectations that their children owe them something and if their children dont fulfill it, then they don't 'deserve' said parent's love. But people like Emeric can never not be abusive and unfit to be parents IMO. And even if Francis DOES win his affection or be the son he wants him to be, then Francis would then just fall into the 'Golden Child' role, which is yet just another abused children position but on the other end of the scale.

OHHH I never considered what Emeric thinks about Francis cutting ties with him. I think he'd be angry and surprised but not sad or remorseful, at least not at first. He hates his son and thinks he's a failure, so its no loss to him. But with his wife dead and no other family, I think later he'll start feeling regret and guilt over how he treated Francis.

I have thought of a scenario where Emeric went to the apartment to make amends with Francis but he, rightfully, doesn't want to talk to his father. No idea how he'd react, if he gets angry and makes a racket there are other people around to witness it.

I don't think Francis was bullied as kid, maybe a bit on the wallflower loner type where he gets teased a bit and largely unnoticed, but nothing worse. He did have a few friends but prefer to keep to himself (just like now, I guess)

[daincrediblegg]

hari seldon cuddle comp.png

[lesbianlenas]

got recommended an article abt the pope using a gay slur & two things abt this article are hilarious to me. first that by the pope using a gay slur when he is supposed to be a “conduit to god” or whatever i just made up that phrasing is sooooo funny bc that means god uses gay slurs by association. second his apology is worse than a youtuber apology unironically. “the pope did not intend to express homophobia when he used a homophobic slur. sorry if you were offended by ppl reporting his use of this word!” like lmfao 😭

[angelhareincorrectquotes]

Original submitter: Had to adapt this down a good bit since I only got 1 VA kickstarter perk, but I think you'd get a kick out of this

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1jUQXESIoFWLJMFG9HvCBsIEuhJnnljtw/view

[milliesfishes]

𝓗𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂 𝓑𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓕𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓲!

guys guys guys it is ~Franci’s birthday~ and OMG I HOPE YOU HAVE THE BESTEST DAY!!! You’re just the best mutual ever and so sweet and funny not to mention TALENTED HELLO?! I reread every one of your fics all the time (Fangirl behavior) and I’m just so glad to have found you here- you’re supportive and lovely and you deserve the best of everything <3

Have the best birthday today love! @francixoxoxo

[wexhappyxfew]

hi shannon!! marianne is calling my name so... can i request "it's 4am. you need sleep." with her? 😁 hope you're having an AMAZING day!!

HI BLUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!! you already are very aware of my excitement towards this prompt because i have not talked as much as i have wanted about my queen marianne salinger, resident tail-gunner of silver bullets who loves three things in this world (1) the silver bullets crew, (2) frank sinatra and (3) her orange cat, frank. AND OF COURSE -- i took this opportunity to talk a bit more about co-pilot of silver bullets, francis montez - co-pilots are just....they're so interesting. there is so much depth to them, especially what their relationship is with the pilot, and we dig into that here. also -- we get some birdie faulkner mentions! my queen (lost but not forgotten)!! francis montez, my tragic hero, i am HUGGING YOU!!!!! please enjoy this look into life before annie bradshaw became replacement command pilot for silver bullets! it is such an interesting space to work in, especially considering what we already know about life with annie bradshaw as the pilot!!!

we all lost birdie

(a/n): marianne salinger POV of the limbo time in between the command of birdie faulkner and annie bradshaw as francis montez struggles with the weight of leadership in a time like this. let's just say....she's not coping well, but the silver bullets crew is there to help with that. also -- marianne is just a gem for real, like observant, chaotic af, non-smoker but is the 'do it because my friends did it' person tbh she's great LMAO! please enjoy!!! (and thank you blu for this....i sincerely hope you enjoy!!!) <3333333 co-pilots my beloved!!

Birdie Faulkner had been on levels even some men would never get to in their lifetime. Highly respected, rather decorated and equally intelligent as any man flying a B-17 as anyone. It’s probably what made Silver Bullets so reliable.

The first she picked was her co-pilot.

Francis Montez - a good Californian, who had top marks in school and a knack for opening up her mouth when prompted, she was an easy choice for co-pilot, a second in command, another leader who would undoubtedly be useful in unforeseen circumstances.

The navigator and bombardier came next: Bessie Carlisle and Carrie Achterberg or Bergie, of Queens and Brooklyn, New York, respectively, from two sides of the same town. Damn good at their jobs, efficient, the glue to the crew and the ones with the brains. Necessary investments.

Then came the flight engineer. Not only must she know all she can about the B-17 but how to fix it on the ground or in the air if needed. Marjorie Harlowe - or Margie - from Michigan, took up that role with ease. A smile, a flick of the finger, an easy-going and competent nature - it wasn’t any surprise that if you flew with Margie Harlowe, you were safe.

Radio ops was next - Paulina Stagliano of Philly was one to talk. Loud mouth and an even louder mind, she got her point across in short question and answer scenarios for her crew, and was always of the opportune to play music when the morale was low.

Then - her turret gunners.

Waist gunners were first - Kennedy Farley hailed from Boston, a rather passionate, raging Red Sox fan, who was a fierce and loyal protector and friend. And a damn-good gunner - she knew that gun inside and out and if you needed a hand with repairs, she'd show up with a smoke, a screwdriver and a small frown and get it done in 5 minutes.

Vivian Ratcliffe from Colorado had grown up with a father teaching her the ropes in mechanic garages - and it was no wonder she was so used to the cold up in that open-air belly - nights and mornings spent skiing in the Rockies, gaining rough-and-tumble love from nature, from the air to the sea. The best of the group, truly.

Then she went for the ball turret gunner - they had to be pretty small, reliable, quick-witted, and no doubt, Birdie wanted someone with a funny personality - Judy Rybinski was practically over-qualified for the role. Showing up with a grin on her face, offering Birdie a bouquet of wildflowers hand-picked, shaking hands and talking about how quickly she could blow a target from the sky seemed to sell Birdie and the rest of the crew immediately. She was a peach.

Then there was herself; Marianne Salinger.

Tail gunner.

Sort of oddly lanky, but not super tail, slightly scrutinizing of others that weren't her crew, painter and animal lover when the war wasn't on, and a Frank Sinatra fan that even if his mother showed up, Marianne would've professed her love greater onward than that. She even found a stray orange tabby named Frank to join her.

She was a lot of things in ways, but very observant. Incredibly observant. Overly observant. And sometimes - to be like that hurt.

Because right now, Birdie was dead.

And the Silver Bullets crew was pilotless - the vacant spot staring the 90% crew in the face, the empty cot where Birdie's things had been like a sore bruise on the body - aching, but almost gone.

In moments like this, Marianne always admired Lieutenant Montez.

Probably since she was first brought into Silver Bullets and introduced to the Silver Bullets co-pilot; Lieutenant Francis Montez.

The good-hearted Californian.

Called you five different nicknames before sticking with one.

Keeping the brave face on in front of the rest of the Silver Bullets crew after Captain Faulkner's death.

Especially when she'd been right next to her when it happened.

So, in shifting herself to the left side in her cot, yawning widely and letting out an overdramatic 'hmph' as she snuggled into her pillow, hearing a rather distressed and choked cry leave someone's lips sent her sitting straight up in her cot. The quick movement made her heart pound, a pressure building behind her eyes and the sudden realization, from a quick glance at her watch, that it was only 0400 with the moonlight still peaking through.

Marianne swiveled her head around the barracks, squinting in the darkness, attempting to seek out who it was. Truth be told, after losing Birdie, nightmares became a normal thing - and some nights, no one slept. It'd been a tense and uneasy atmosphere for nearly a week and with no new pilot, things were even more worrisome and weary.

The only person holding them together was co-pilot Francis Montez. And currently, she was the one breaking down. Marianne could tell because it came from the far corner of the bunk room, closest to the door. And Francis didn't ever let it on that inside she was hurting. It's probably what hurt Marianne the most to see.

At dinners and lunches and breakfast - Francis would be sat, that blank look in her eyes, that ache buried deep inside, barely eating and trying to laugh it off seconds later.

Slowly standing to her feet, and nearly tripping over Frank's little pillow on the ground that he'd taken to, she picked her way down the rows of the crew towards Francis.

Deep-down, she probably should've stayed in her cot, kept her mouth shut and let Francis deal with her emotions. But a sudden urge to protect her and hold Francis through a moment like this was all she wanted to do.

Marianne approached the outlined form on the cot, bathed in a sprinkle of moonlight and held her breath, debating if she should turn around now.

"Lieutenant Montez?" Marianne whispered, her voice causing Francis' form to freeze-up entirely, turning to look over her shoulder towards Marianne stood there, as if a ghost had appeared - Marianne almost choked out her words, "I just heard something and wanted to make sure you were okay and then I saw you were awake and-"

"Salinger." Francis said, voice slightly hoarse, silencing her rambling, "I'm fine. Just, some fucking nightmare. But, it's fine. I'm going out for a smoke anyway. Take the edge off." Marianne stood, cheeks heated red in the darkness, as Francis stood to her rather tall height and picked up her A2, throwing it on roughly, before grabbing her smokes' box and heading towards the door. Marianne's heart hammered in her chest before she wiped at her nose and cleared her throat.

"Need a buddy?" Oh, God, now how awkward do you sound? Francis turned and looked at Marianne and she balked. "Uh, need a buddy. Ma'am." Francis stared at her in the darkness and Marianne swore that she could've died on the spot if it was possible.

"Sure." Francis said and then turned to the door stepping outside. Marianne skittered to follow her out, slowly shutting the door behind herself and settling down on the stoop in front of the barracks beside Marianne.

Outside, with the moonlight, Marianne could get a better look at Francis' face and saw the dark circles under her eyes, the fading scar from the incident on that fateful day and the blankness of her eyes all at once. Her heart ached.

"Want one, Salinger?" Francis said, placing one on her own lip before offering the box. Marianne - resident and very adamant non-smoker in the group - stared at the box before looking at Francis again. Francis usually never offered because she knew Marianne didn't smoke, but Francis seemed on a whole different planet right now. And something made Marianne want to take one.

"Yes. Yes, ma'am." Marianne said, reaching forward to pluck one out of the box and place it on her own lip - the paper taste wasn't nice. Francis chuckled slightly.

"You don't have to keep calling me ma'am or….or Lieutenant. It's fine, seriously." Francis said, glancing at her, "Here." Francis leaned forward and gently lit the edge of Marianne's cigarette before leaning back to light her own. Marianne's warm cheeks failed to dissipate and she couldn't help but watch as Francis clicked the lighter closed and then popped the cigarette off her lip and blew out a drag of smoke. She didn't realize her staring until Francis looked to her and waved a hand.

"You there, Salinger?" It didn't take long for Marianne to blink herself out of it, before inhaling the cigarette chemicals too fast, breathing it in and hacking up a lung, loud and noisily, before gasping for breath, the cigarette forgotten between her fingers.

"Sorry," Marianne croaked out as Francis gently tapped her back, clearing her airways, "I don't smoke."

"I forgot about that," Francis said, sounding slightly defeated and guilty, "just not with it right now."

Marianne recovered her bearings and slight moment of embarrassment and looked to Francis sat beside her, staring out towards the airfield at night, planes silhouetted in darkness. It was an eerie feeling - knowing she had died on that plane, after getting up into it thinking there'd be many more times after. Knowing that cockpit would remain empty until the replacement showed up.

Knowing that plane was still sitting out there, soaked in that feeling, those memories, that moment.

"Probably because it's 4 am. And you need sleep." Marianne said quietly, looking over at the co-pilot, "Brain won't work and wire itself right without it."

"Can't sleep most nights anyway so," Francis said, popping the cigarette on her lip and clenching her jaw, "if I do, the nightmares come so, prefer not to if I can."

"Of Birdie?" Marianne asked. Francis grew quiet and continued staring out, blank-eyed. It grew quiet and Marianne wasn't going to push her - fresh in the mind, only four days ago - she almost regretted saying Birdie's name, but she knew Francis needed to get it into her mind what was going on. She needed to be able to talk instead of bottling it inside.

"Yeah." Francis said quietly, pulling the cigarette from her lip, "It replays in my mind. Every night since it's happened." Marianne watched as Francis looked towards her, tears in her eyes. She watched as Francis shook her head, biting back her lip and looking towards her again.

"It was our second mission. We just got out here. And….and she's already gone." Francis whispered quietly before looking out at the darkness again, "They won't allow us to fly until they've got someone new in here, and…I don't know, going up there again and she's not next to me. I….I don't know." Marianne glanced sidelong at Francis again and watched as the co-pilot reached up to angrily wipe at some tears in her eyes and sigh.

"I gotta get myself together - there's some pilot from San Diego coming in tomorrow anyway - Atchinson….something or other. I gotta…." Francis let a hand linger lightly over her body, a display of dissatisfaction on her force, "I know I won't go back to sleep so. Don't want to keep you awake. I'll be fine." Marianne watched Francis - did she actually think Marianne would leave her sit out here alone and suffer in silence? In the darkness?

"I can stay." Marianne said, her cheeks growing warm uncontrollably. Francis looked over at her, slightly surprised. Marianne stuttered. "I mean, I can stay and we can talk. So you're not alone. I don't mind. Mind being here with you. With…" Marianne watched as Francis looked towards her a small smile on her face, dark eyes watching Marianne with mirth.

"When in doubt, Mari Salinger's gonna make sure you're not alone," Francis said, her eyes never leaving Francis' as she reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze, "thanks, Mari."

Marianne sat there, incredibly aware of the feel of Francis' hand on her shoulder, the warmth from the co-pilot's hand now infiltrating her body, along with the look in Francis' eyes that simply only watched Marianne in this endless darkness. It took a matter of seconds, but then Francis was pulling her hand back, unflinching, and removing her cigarette from her lips again and nodding to her.

Clearly, she wasn't unchanged, but Marianne felt like her entire world had shifted on its axis and suddenly, she wasn't sure if she knew how to breathe right or if her lungs were working.

"So, you hear anything about this Atchinson?" Francis asked her cooly, waving around her cigarette between her fingers and rubbing her temple, "You always got the scoop on this sorta stuff, so." Marianne cleared her throat and looked at Francis.

"I…I must say it's the first time that I really don't know much to anything about her. Just that's she's a pilot. From San Diego. Captain ranking I believe. Nothing more." Marianne said quietly with a shrug, focusing on a spot of dirt on the ground and attempting to pull herself together, "Say, Francis…what happens if this doesn't work out?" Francis glanced at her and raised a brow.

"Come again?" Marianne balked and cleared her throat.

"Atchinson. Uh, Captain Atchinson. What happens if the fit isn't….the right one?" Marianne asked her, "You heard Harding. He said 'We gotta make it the right fit.', the hell is that supposed to mean?" Francis watched her and offered her an upturn of a smile.

"They don't just want anyone up there, Salinger." Francis said to her with a nod, "Birdie was more qualified than any of us. Best of the best. And she hand-picked the group of us. Now. We're down our command pilot and the spot's vacant. They're not just throwing names in a hat and picking out the first piece of paper they touch." Francis smirked.

"Which, I'll give 'em credit, they're looking out for us," Francis said and Marianne's cheeks warmed as Francis smirked at her wider this time, "but that don't mean much, I gotta say. Until that replacement's in the sky with us, until you really know what they're like….I don't know. May not know the right fit until they come back after a mission and know what it's really like." Marianne slowly nodded and glanced back at Francis.

"You think Atchinson's gonna work out?" Marianne asked her, her mind thinking, if Birdie were here tomorrow, to meet her, would she like her? Francis shrugged.

"You can only hope," Francis said quietly, "I don't know though." Francis sighed and scratched at the back of her head for a moment, her dark hair tied into a bun that rested gently on her neck, where the scars of that final flight for Birdie had occurred. They both fell quiet, Francis smoking her cigarette, Marianne trying to get a wrangle on her head and her heart.

"Hey, Francis?" Marianne asked quietly, watching as the co-pilot turned to look towards her. Francis' eyes were always dark and consumed with something no one could ever quite distinguish, but for the first time in what seemed like a while, they were clear and quiet. That chaos, that storm inside was calmed for once.

"What's up?" Francis asked her, as Marianne watched her.

"If you ever need to talk to someone in the future, whatever it is, I'm here. We all here." Marianne said quietly, tapping her fingers against her up-bent knees against her chest on the stoop, the warm night breeze running over her bare legs, "We all lost Birdie." Francis watched Marianne and slowly nodded, tears forming in her gaze. It was those few seconds in between recognition and having a breakdown that Marianne caught as Francis squeezed her eyes shut and bit back her quivering lip.

"I just don't want you all to think this is it for Silver Bullets, for all of us," Francis whispered quietly, her voice breaking, "that without Birdie, we're done for. We all worked to get here, you know. We all deserve to be here, sticking out necks out, dealing with all the shit from everyone else. We're all here because we earned it. And I just….I don't want to show that in front of everyone. That it fucking sucks trying to keep it together, trying to cooperate with a replacement that won't ever be like Birdie. Knowing Birdie won't be coming back." Marianne watched her, tears welling in her own eyes. Her throat tightened as she tried to speak.

"You're not alone, Francis," Marianne said quietly, "Birdie's always gonna be up there, alright? Watching over us." Marianne pointed to the sky. Francis managed a stifled cry and wiped at her tears and sighed.

"I know." Francis whispered.

"Birdie would want us to keep going, too," Marianne said quietly, "remember when Birdie told Judy that one time about how years from now, when people think about this war, our names are gonna be apart of that. Silver Bullets is, too. Even if there's a replacement. Birdie's name is gonna be sticking in that, too. She'll always be here."

Marianne wasn't sure what happened, but in a span of a few seconds, Francis had scooted over and wrapped Marianne in a hug, holding her close, a few silent trembling cries somewhere near her right ear.

Slowly, Marianne wrapped her arms around Francis, holding her there, and letting her feel those emotions for a moment where the only thing watching was the cloudy moon. Francis wasn't a heavily emotional person, so when she pulled back after 30 seconds, Marianne wasn't surprised that she was clearing up and nodding herself back to life.

"Sorry, Mari," Francis said, patting her arm and sighing, "just, thanks for that. Just needed to hear it from someone else, ya know?" Marianne nodded with a small smile, for the first time seeing their co-pilot come a bit more to life, especially in the past week more than anything.

"We're always here." Marianne said, with a small smile, "We are a 10-woman crew. Not a 1-man." Francis chuckled wetly, wiping a few more tears from her eyes as she smiled again.

"I know it's barely 5 am, but they might have coffee out. Wanna join me?" Marianne watched Francis and it only took about a millisecond for her brain to respond.

"Of course." Marianne said with a smile, following Francis to the mess hall for a cup of coffee. A cup of coffee at 5 am to ponder the horrors of the week was all one needed to ready themselves for another day, another mission, another breath of air. It's all Francis needed and something Marianne needed to. It's what they all needed.