#╰☆{ limerick green

[larrylimericks]

12Jul24

Three hundred and fifty-six days Since last we saw Harry on stage, But tonight a duet! For Ms. Nicks’ Hyde Park set, And a Songbird who’s now flown away.

[theotherklm]

[hautecouturehues]

[ghostofnuggetspast]

Shamrocks at Christmas

One thinks that this form* harks of greens, As it hails from the Ireland scenes. Well, green is quite pretty, And red needs no pity. John looks good in both with his jeans. *limericks, silly

More on a03!

[ephemeralskies]

Limerick, Ireland

[k00291991]

Disrupt

Week 6

To continue progress from my Adobe workshop I created this video to show the different ways clothes can feel on the body. One of my peers was wearing a neon yellow jumper which worked very well as a green screen so I asked them if I could use this video for my project.

The video was made using Adobe Premiere Pro, I used stock footage I found online as well as my own to edit in how clothes disrupt the body. It was interesting to get to work in a digital way for this project as I have mainly stuck with 2D works as of now.

This video continues to relate back to my theme of clothes and my sensory issues with them. Clothes can sometimes feel soft like the gloves or baby chicks pictured, sometimes too hot like the fire shown or too suffocating and sharp like the knife or broken glass in the video. I also finally found a way to use the song ‘Buying Smokes’ in my work as the audio of the last 30 seconds really recaptures the feelings of stress and panic that come with clothes disrupting the way the body feels.

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1916 – Easter Rising | Irish patriots, Michael Mallin, Eamonn Ceannt, Cornelius “Con” Colbert and Sean Heuston are shot dead in Kilmainham Gaol.

Executions of Easter Rising Leaders continue by a British regime in Stonebreakers’ Yard at Kilmainham Gaol, completely insensitive to the fact it was creating numerous martyrs and generating an emotional calling cry for Irish rebellion that would culminate in the War of Independence. Shot dead on this day: Michael Mallin | Born in Co Dublin, he was a music teacher, devout Catholic and teetotaler.…

[neverland-king]

tag drop

╰☆{ sea green [ ariel ╰☆{ drk midnight blue [ merida ╰☆{ limerick green [ tink ╰☆{ raspberry pink [ aurora ╰☆{ royal purple [ esme ╰☆{ fire brick [ kuzco

ooc || out of character .01 || visage .02 || aesthetics .03 || playlist .04 || headcanon .05 || humor .06 || prompt .07 || promo .08 || neverland

[paigebstorey]

Day 25 Prompt: Grow

I once was a tiny, dead weed

Who never could sprout from the seed

But rain came one night

In morning, sunlight

I now get the care that I need!

My leave finally had turned green

And I was a sight to be seen

No longer in gloom

A flower in bloom

And breathing in air that is clean!

(This was the last poem I was actually able to write for Poemvember back in 2020.)

[reblogandlikes]

And to THINK Amarantha could have continued to basically be High Queen of Prythian with possible expansion, but her hots for Tamlin was too strong that he eventually became her demise with the help of a human.

This bitch had everyone on lock and stood on business for 50 years. A notorious no-nonsense, spiteful, vengeful general turned conqueror, and she fumbled for a music loving, limerick speaking, powerful and kind-hearted male with beautiful green eyes and luscious blond hair.

Damn. Ladies, never let a man distract you from greatness 😂

[ghostofnuggetspast]

Green Carnations

"A ghost?" said Sherlock in surprise. "That lady with really green eyes?" John smiled, took a chance, Then asked him to dance. "Mix pleasure with business?" he sighs.

The Curious Case of the Green-Eyed Ghost by @batslikepastel hath updated!

@helloliriels @friday411 @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @chriscalledmesweetie @naefelldaurk @keirgreeneyes

Day 22: Ghosts

For Sherlock and John on this day Old sorrows are melting away Ghosts of Christmas past Are banished at last Their future is merry and gay

You can find all 31 of my Holly Jolly Johnlock Limericks on AO3.

Thanks to @notjustamumj for the December 2024 prompts and to @ghostofnuggetspast and @friday411 for their own delightfully inspiring limericks.

[larrylimericks]

6Oct23

With hues blue and green, Lou was tinged, Sang ‘7’ in Barça, then grinned Cos sharing is caring And H still likes wearing Lou’s jumper — Um, bro, they’re unhinged.

[mamaspark]

I went on a quilt retreat with some of my favorite people 🥰. We were all very productive! I brought 2 quilt tops that I finished ahead of the retreat just so I could get good photos

I have a backing ready for the triangle quilt. The triangle fabrics are an Alice In Wonderland fabric line. Still thinking about backing on the Wizard of Oz quilt.

I got a couple of quilts back from my quilter so I trimmed and bound both of those. The bear quilt will be gifted to my husband’s uncle. The garbage truck has Kelly green Minky on the back. Quilted in a Diamond plate pantograph. Was supposed to go to my grandson but will likely be for sale. If you’re interested please email me at mamaspark@gmail.com

I had the center block made for this pillow front. Made the block into the pillow front. Now I need to quilt it and finish the pillow.

I had enough greens and low volume fabric to make a second green Limerick quilt. I also made a coral Limerick. Got both tops finished

Lastly, I had almost all my star blocks made. I finished the blocks and put this top together. I really love it!

Now you’re all caught up with what I’ve been doing. Let me know what you think of my work!

[shorthaltsjester]

god i have so much i could say about tlovm s2 so far but all my brain is providing is rot about scanlan and vex and oh boy i am. so very intrigued by the space that the show is giving their dynamic because it’s certainly one that I think is essential to their character arcs in campaign one but i also know that isn’t an opinion that is always held by campaign one enjoyers. but god between their hostile but caring dynamic in s1 and the foiling that is happening between the twins and scanlan and his lack of someone who evidently cares for him (post dragon splitting up, when the twins reunite scanlan has a witty comment about how he’s also glad he’s alive and then in ep3 after vax stops vex from trekking across the lake to find the tomb because it might not be safe, no one stops scanlan from doing the same when he volunteers seconds later) i am so, So happy that my favourite mask wearing, comedy wielding, self hating members of vox machina are being presented as the power duo that they are.

and just god. their relationship in the campaign was so small and so big at the same time and i love that it seems to be the same in the show even though it Easily and Understandably could’ve been something they cut because of the massive editing they have to do. just . god. they are so important to me and what was his mothers name and they went into the feywild to deal with her daddy issues and he helped her figure out a magic broom and she wore the stupid hat he had made for her and he minor imaged her skin green and he was a triceratops down the aisle and she isn’t perfect but she’s the most perfect of all of them and in his absence she said that their leader wasn’t with them and he turned her into a dragon and she flew him around a library and he made a wish for her and she told grog to stop carrying him like a football and he relentlessly bullied her bear and she wrote him a limerick to make fun of him almost sleeping with his daughter and he gave her 30 gold for a book and she saw a stranger with a shorter shadow and a familiar moniker and they’re best friends and they’re enemies and they’re family and they mean the world to me

[alpydk]

Writing Prompt - Gale entertains the camp with the tale of Ahghairon's lost nose.

Yeah... I thought over this after riding the waves of shameless flirting from the last few days. Oops. - I'm now going to go and collapse into bed, but hope people enjoy this. Thank you for another great prompt. I do love writing these, so very much.

Find the Nose

Word Count - 1757 - CW - Fluff, flirting, some hands on.

“What do you mean, find the nose?” Tav said with a curious look in her cool green eyes, her blonde hair being mindlessly braided over her shoulder, a surprising comfort found on the log she sat upon.

Gale had, for some time, been sharing in wine and frivolities with the ranger. The blush of her cheeks gave away the amount that had been indulged in and he stood before her, the fire burning brightly not far from them both, their companions long since departed for their tents with the rise of the moon in the sky. They’d shared in the histories of their upbringings, gone through many a dirty limerick, and now the party games had begun. Grease the pig had been a favourite of Tav’s, but no pig and a wizard with weak knees meant for a lousy opponent. Instead, they’d talked of other games and he’d begun to waffle on about a Waterdhavian pastime called find the nose.

 “Well, the grand mage, Ahghairon, is renowned in Waterdeep for his magic and political skills. A statue was built in the centre of the city as a tribute to his dedication to the people. After all, it was thanks to him that we have the system we do…”

He trailed on for some time, explaining the political landscape of the city and the history that had led to the City of Splendour’s reputation. Tav didn’t hear much of the subject, but she enjoyed how each word seemed to drip as poetry from his lips, the way his soft hands wove through the air and his slightly drunken eyes settled on her.

“And so, over the years, people would climb upon the statue and rub at his nose, the belief being that if one did, one would gain the fortune of the mage: wisdom and knowledge to guide in life’s hardships.” He rubbed mindlessly at his own nose, as if mentioning it had triggered something within in. “With that, the nose has simply eroded, lost to time, some might say. Gods forbid, it was another extremity.”

Her gaze was met with a playful smirk, too suggestive to ignore, but very much welcome after so many similar nights. “I still fail to see how this is a game, though, Gale. We have no statue, and sorry to say, no grand mage.”

He rose his hand to his chest in mockery. “My dear, you wound me.”

Tav shook her head and chuckled. “You know exactly what I mean before you get all dramatic and go planning to blow yourself up.”

���Me? Dramatic? I think you are confusing me with our vampiric friend.” He approached her and sat at her side, his hand resting on her knee.

She tried to ignore the sensation of warmth that ran through her, obviously caused by a little too much wine. “And so, how would this game be played, then?”

He ran his gaze over her figure, seeing the way her white cotton shirt hugged her body. He gave a nervous cough and looked away, distracting himself from the effects the alcohol had clearly had on him. “First, we must find an insignificant item. Why, the conch shell you found in the Underdark would do perfectly.”

“Conch shell?”

“It’s practically nose shaped, if one were a hag.”

Tav dug through her pack, another bottle of wine removed and placed to the side for further imbibing. The shell lay at the bottom under the various notes and trinkets she’d picked up.

Gale eyed her pack curiously, seeing the amount of tat that seemed to be stored in there. “You do know that traders will give you gold in return for goods?”

“Shut up,” she scoffed in response. “If it were all books, I’m sure you’d spout a very different set of remarks.” She brought out the shell and curled it between her fingers, thankful for the momentary distraction. “Now, what am I meant to do with it?”

He gave a devious smile, intoxication driving his intentions forward. The orb quelled had left him with little doubt in his mind of his body’s physical desires, combat with Githyanki at the creche setting his nerves on fire for his bow wielding companion. “Now you simply turn away and hide the item on your person.”

A look of realisation spread across Tav’s face as to how this game would pan out. “Ah, and then you are to find it, I suppose? And how do we determine a winner?”

“It is not the winning, but the enjoyment of the game that matters, my dear Tav.” He gave a knowing smile of what was to come. “But if you insist on a victory being the goal, one must simply hide the object well enough. Gone from view, just as Ahghairon’s nose is.”

“Hm, very well then.” She licked her lips, the taste of the red wine still present, the shell clutched delicately in her hand, and she turned from Gale’s view.

He could see the way her hands moved over her body, the slight lift of her shirt from her chest giving him some idea of her tactics. He would not start there, though; this game was not meant to be played to win but to exhaust all options and then potentially lose, and he would be as thorough as possible in his exploration.

“Ok, it’s hidden.” She turned back to him, ready for whatever it was he had planned. Her eyes gave a mischievous gleam, her competitive nature not letting her lose under any conditions.

Gale scanned her figure, first looking for any odd lumps where the shell might lie. He lifted his hand. “May I?”

She nodded. “Wouldn’t be much of a fun game if you were to only stop and stare?”

He smiled, his hand coming to pat down a crease of her shirt that lay just under her breast. His fingers continued to trace around her side, going around her back as he saw the way her cheeks flushed a deepened red, almost that of the wine shared between them. Her eyes shone in the moonlight, the flickering of the campfire burning, reflecting at him. He pulled himself closer, his palm resting on her rib cage. “Tell me if I commit anything untoward.”

“Untoward and Gale Dekarios; I don’t believe those words have ever fallen together, have they?” She felt one of his hands slip under the hem of her shirt, the other continuing around her back above the cotton.

“In my youth, I was quite the charmer. Many a game like this was played. Wine, poetry, the exploration of bodies quite the regular pastime.” He felt around her abdomen, his mind losing focus on the aim of the game, his finger tracing under her breast lightly.

She gave a soft hum with the sensation of his finger stroking her. “I get the impression it’s been some time, though.”

A light scoff was released from his parted lips, ones that breathed so gently against the warmth of her neck. “Since I had the opportunity to play such a game?”

“Since you explored a body that was not was formed by starlight.”

He took a moment to pull back and look at her, regaining his senses, his palm removed from under her shirt, a brief sobering of his mind. “Hm, you’d be correct.”

She looked at him apologetically, a slight dip in the mood not her intention. She thought over her words, trying to regain the playfulness, trying to fan the flames of desire that burnt as brightly as their own campfire. “That would explain why you’re so cold in your search.”

The glow of his dark eyes brightened with yearning, his goddess forgotten once again, for the one sat in front of him. He took his hand from the behind her and lowered it to the base of her back, his finger dipping under the leather that lay beneath. His other hand was placed firmly on her thigh, a slow clenching motion as it travelled upwards in search of its target. “Inform me if I am getting any warmer.”

“I thought the aim to win would involve not assisting you.”

“Hm, you’d be correct. I guess I’ll just have to work off how you react to my touch, then.” One palm lowered itself further down in between her thighs, the other sinking deeper into her trousers and cupping the soft flesh that lay there.

Tav’s involuntary gasp was enough for him to lean into her, his lips so close to her neck that he could almost taste her.

“You need to look so closely?” She whispered at his behaviour.

“Not look, my dear. Smell.” He wasn’t sure if he was in search of the scent of the salt water, or if it was the subtle aroma of rosewater that he was more interested in. An unintended kiss was placed upon her neck, her sigh permission enough for his hands to continue their travels. The warmth of her legs clouded his mind, mixing with the wine, and a hunger drove him forward, both of them forgetting the game and the search for the shell.

Neither heard the footsteps that approached them, as their hands explored one another, as their lips joined in a mesh of a wine touched kisses. The intentional kick of a pebble across the grass towards them went unnoticed under breathy gasps of wanting.

Astarion’s voice purred out, a jeering at the behaviour he was witnessing. “It’s about time you two finally stopped dancing around each other.”

Gale quickly pulled himself from Tav’s body, his ability to act casual in the situation failing him miserably. “It’s not how it appears. We were merely indulging in a spot of…” His words abandoned him, the sight of Tav patting down her shirt and stroking her legs distracting him.

Tav blushed, her eyes wide at the appearance of the vampire who’d crept up on them. “I think there’s been a little too much wine for tonight. Thank you for the evening, Gale.” She grabbed her pack and before Gale could stop her, made a dash for her tent, the embarrassment at having been caught in such a compromising position too much to endure.

Astarion approached the wizard, a crunch released as he stepped on an unfamiliar object. The fragments of a conch shell lay under his boot, some distance from the log both Gale and Tav had shared. “Darling,” he let out with a sigh. “Is it all wizards, or just you that cannot woo a woman normally?”

[diableriedoll]

I've written up a brief background of Sister Evangeline; From Birth to Death. I originally did it just for the sake of the ST but I figured it would be good to post here so you guys have an idea of her story. Please bare in mind I'm not a writer though..😬 (Art by @crownedinmarigolds, Salubri divider by me!)

In order to begin Evangeline’s story we need to start with her parents; Shauna and Brian Lambe. Both belonging to the Irish communities within Manchester, Brian’s ancestry alone being traced all the way back to the 1800s where they were documented as the O’Luain’s and leaving Limerick in Ireland to escape the famine and arriving in Liverpool, spreading out to Manchester after arrival. 

The couple met through their families and were quick to marry, Shauna herself only being eighteen years old, while Brian was twenty-three. Love at first sight. Despite the recession, the couple were able to maintain their jobs and even earn enough to buy themselves a home, ready to start a family, however this first house was never going to see their child. Years pass, their marriage still as loving as the moment they set eyes on each other, however Shauna’s desperation for a child turns to obsession, dragging her husband to church weekly, praying every moment she gets in hope that they’re answered. Just one baby. That’s all. That will be enough, but still, nothing. Seventeen years later, their savings and earnings grew, causing them to move one last time, finding a lovely three-bed cottage in the Village of Lymm. They settle in and sharply make themselves known to their local Catholic church and community, Shauna volunteering when she can, desperate to earn some extra points with her God, and hopefully, a baby. It was in this chapter of their life that their prayers were answered. In her mid thirties, Shauna finally conceived. Convinced that this baby is a gift from God, the couple do all they can to make sure the pregnancy runs smoothly. Everything has to be perfect to make sure the baby is healthy and thus, the visits to church double.

Come the August of 2000, Shauna has what she believes to be braxton hicks as it’s a month or so too early to be in labour, so she continues her nesting around the cottage, making sure everything is perfect for the upcoming arrival, though unknown to her, that it would be sooner than expected. The fake contractions don’t stop, in fact, they double down, become more patterned, closer together and intense, making it exceedingly clear that the baby is on the way. Brian calls for an ambulance in a panicked state, but before the call is even ended, tiny cries fill the home of the Lambe’s. At 11:15 am, on the 7th of August, 2000, Shauna and Brian finally had the baby they were praying for, for the past eighteen years, cuddled up in their arms. A little girl, who they named Evangeline Brigid Lambe, and due to her premature birth, she was indeed tiny, but perfect. She had delicate pale skin, large eyes, the rosiest cheeks and thick tufts of copper hair. 

All parents are biased that their baby is beautiful, but precious Evangeline truly was. The new parents truly felt as though their prayers were answered and they were given an angel.

As Evangeline aged, freckles delicately dust her face and body, her doe eyes turn a shade of emerald green and her hair grew thicker, longer and curlier which were often styled with ribbons. She was perfect in the eyes of her parents, to the point her mother became paranoid of the world around her, and turned to God even more, to a point it was obsessive, visiting church more regularly and praying for her child’s safety.

Once Evangeline reached school age, to continue her safety from the “impurities and sin” of an unclean world, she was sent to all girl’s primary and secondary convent schools, where her high empathy and kindness grew as she’s shielded from a regular childhood due to her mother’s fears. Evangeline never really played outside with children her own age. She never visited friend’s houses, and the friends she did make had to meet her mother’s standards, as who knew what sins they would introduce her gift to, and don’t even mention boys…

At 18 years old, not knowing of anything else other than her faith and beliefs, she was under the assumption that her path was already decided for her and it was to become a Sister. A Nun of the Catholic church, which thrilled her parents, or mainly, her mother. It was clearly the only route to take after being a gift from God himself, and that was to devote herself back to him.

Evangeline chose a convent within Manchester to start her novitiate period, so she can remain close to her parents as she has never been too far from them. However, a year in, content that their daughter is well protected and watched over, Shauna and Brian decide to return to their heritage roots of Limerick, with the plan that once Evangaline has finished her novitiate period and taken her vows, she will join them in a convent nearby.

Come March 2020, six months away from taking her vows, the UK is placed into lockdown due to Covid. Evangeline was requested to leave the city to a new one in order to aid a different and smaller community due to not having enough hands to help. Her new home was to be the city of York and the St George’s Catholic Church, which just so happened to be originally built for the Irish Catholic immigrants in the 1850s. A stunning church yet there was something about the lighting that always made Evangeline see shadows in the corner of her eye.

It was here where she aided those in need during uncertain times, where she prayed with the ill, the worried and the scared and here where she would meet her death and her unbirth.

Occasionally under the watch of Father James and Father Nathaniel and accompanied by a Nun named Sister Marianne, which never seemed to be through the day, Evangeline took part in voluntary work for her new community, doing what she can while risking her own health and continuing her novitiate period alongside.

In August of 2020, lockdown restrictions are beginning to ease and Evangeline celebrates her 20th birthday with birthday wishes and a new rosary delivered through the post from her parents and surprise cake gifted from the Priests of the church, apologizing the can’t be there but to enjoy and they will meet her at 11pm upon the balcony to wish her a happy birthday in person. At 11pm, Evangeline waits upon the balcony, her gaze watching the church hall below, awaiting Father James and Father Nathaniel, just as the note said, however, instead of a birthday greeting, she was pushed over the ledge to the floor below by something she didn’t even hear step up behind her, breaking multiple bones. Laying on the floor, flitting out of consciousness, she witnesses Father Nathaniel materialize out of the shadows and lowers himself down, taking hold of her hand in comfort and a content smile to his lips as he keeps an eye on his watch until eventually, he lifts her broken body, pulls down her collar and leans into her neck, draining her dry of her blood. As her life fades, she hears the doors open with rage and running footsteps running towards them, an angered yell of “Nathaniel!” and a final blurry sight of Father James, with blood running down his forehead and the light of a candle glowing behind his head, causing a halo-like glow within her haze before it all turns black. At 11:15pm, 7th of August, 2020, Evangeline Lambe met her death, aged 20 years and 12 hours.