#a pocket full of posies

[entropiasgift]

Eurwen es yo cuando alguien propone la telepatía como superpoder que les gustaría tener.

En plan, la telepatía suena más a maldición que a superpoder, que a veces es difícil aguantar a la gente cuando están hablando en voz alta, imagínate oírles también cuando están callados lo que puede ser eso, but go of I guess...

Y aquí Eurwen está sufriendo lo que viene siendo una especie de síndrome postvacacional extraño. Te acabas de despertar de un sueño de mil años, pero ya vas cansado a todas partes y no sabes qué se supone que tendrías que estar haciendo, pero tú te mueves por hacer algo...

Y por último, atención al hachazo final que le ha metido a Tina en toda la cabeza.

Tina: Pueeeessss...

[jeraliey]

My friend asked me to sew back the front pocket of her work hoodie, which had been torn off by an overeager dog looking for treats.

I decided to put a little surprise in the repaired pocket for her.

This one was fun. I should do more freehand embroidery.

[jazzstarrlight]

The 4 Horsemen- Ring Around The Rosie

Sometimes (cough cough all the time cough), Joan has a hard time when children are affected by epidemics. This one bad plague has been taking such a toll on them & breaks down after watching some children put on a brave face better than them.

PS- "Nursery" is a space in the afterlife for young children who aren't ready to move on & eventually shall return to earth to try again at a new life.

(Made up just for the story. But honestly, why judge a child whose brain is still underdeveloped & learning?)

[m3r1m4r5u333]

Ring around the rosie,

A pocket full of posies.

Ashes! Ashes!

We all fall down!

...

The Wizard of Oz:

You're out of the woods,

you're out of the dark, you're our of the night,

Step into the sun, step into the light.

Keep straight ahead for the most

glorious place on the face of the earth or the

sky.

Hold onto your breath, hold onto your heart, hold onto your hope,

March up to that gate and bid it open.

...

Eddie: Maybe I'm just not a therapy kind of guy.

Buck: Right, right... You prefer to work it out in the ring.

Eddie: There was no ring, Buck. There was a fence.

...

So, gates, or fences, rings? Sounds like a locked yard mystery. Maybe there's love, locked somewhere in there.

Ring around the rosie

A pocket full of posies

Ashes, ashes

We all fall down

Interesting choice, Marisol's shirt. An image of a dragon (like Maleficent is) and a text that says 'Dreamed'... Yes, Maleficent's been busy cursing imposters, posies!

Ana of course was one, too. She dressed incredibly similarily to Shannon, the red dress with the white pattern is super similar to Shannon's. Kim is obviously one too.

And the way Tommy is reintroduced in an imposter-themed episode. Tommy, who like Eddie is also a firefighter, who was in the army like Eddie, who like Eddie also fights, and likes monster trucks, and on his first date with Buck says almost exactly the same line as Eddie does earlier to Buck's words..

"... Can't save someone from themselves, not if they don't want you to."

Eddie mutters: "Ain't that the truth..."

"Ain't that the truth, right Evan" is also what Tommy says, on the date, it's his reply to Buck inventing a story about him and Tommy being on their way to pick up hot chicks.

Anyway, after Eddie says the thing about there never being enough closet space, and Tommy goes "Ain't that the truth, Evan?"

It's really a subtle reference to the Cowardly Lion from the Wizard of Oz. The cowardly lion being someone who sings stuff like this:

Yeh, it's sad, believe me, Missy

When you're born to be a sissy

Without the vim and verve

But I could change my habits

Never more be scared of rabbits

If I only had the nerve

I'm afraid there's no denying

I'm just an awful dandy-lion

A fate I don't deserve

But I could show my prowess

Be a lion, not a mouse

If I only had the nerve...

Anyway, in the end the Cowardly Lion finally finds his courage to help rescue Dorothy, and receives a medal of courage for it.

That is why "Ain't that the truth?" really does refer to pride and courage. Because it's very similar to something the Cowardly lion, in Wizard of Oz, the capricorn of queer subtext, repeats after he finds his courage!

"Read what my medal says:

"Courage".

Ain't it the truth? Ain't it the truth?"

So Tommy's and Eddie's lines... They are really sarcastic quips, and point out someone lacking courage or pride because the line is iconic words of a Cowardly lion....

And would be falsehood when the topic of the conversation is actually someone making silly, cowardly decisions instead of being someone who found their courage, and is being admired for that courage.

[zmbiefood]

(x)

[ofyorkshire]

i don't think "babe" is out of the question if bj were particularly vulnerable at that point and tk was being supportive in the. the. aftercare-adjacent way. i think it might slip out and he'd stick by it so long as BJ was comfortable with it at the time.

send a pet name/nickname that your muse might call mine, and see how my muse reacts to it.

There are some terms of endearment that make BJ kneejerk recoil (he has been called a lot of things by a lot of people, so some terms are soured for him, a bit) but "babe" is safe, especially coming from TK.

It would hurt initially for obvious reasons. The pining is real and loud lol. But BJ also will take any and every ounce of affection he can get and would be melty about "babe". When he's especially vulnerable, I think he'd like to be babe'd and babied a little bit for that matter. Hold him, pet his hair, rock him a little in your arms, and tell him nice things until he can believe them. He'll feel silly and probably a little embarrassed afterward but soooo grateful to have a safe, soft place to rest for a moment until he can pick himself up again.

Anyway. "Babe" is nice. BJ could learn to like it. I could see it becoming something that tethers him a little. Imagining him getting focused on something that worries him or starts dissociating, TK "hey, babe"s him, and it's enough that BJ remembers to take a breath. A+. He doesn't want TK to feel obligated to tether him, but is grateful when he does.

[arcadekitten]

Wait, Mary n Reggie I have two hands pls pls pls 😞😞

This is how you're trying to be I see

[3lafvanny-blog]

ONE HAS TO WONDER WHAT HAPPENED YESTERDAY TO MAKE EVERYONE BREAK DOWN SIMULTANEOUSLY

BUT IN THE END DOES IT MATTER?

WHAT'S INEVITABLE HAS COME.

[neige-leblanche]

bruh i think my trash is rotting due to the heat + humidity but my tea for tomorrow has lavender in it so thats what im smelling even as the rot mists into the air. this is how medieval ppl used to live

[waxfullwan]

fall down

it’s the mourning dove

of the evening

it’s the soundtrack

of a memory

and it plays inside

of your head

of silly string hair

and reverie

now our pockets are

full of posies

now we’re all leaving

small ghost towns

to burn up our love

into ashes

until all that is left

is to fall down

a.b.

[crispyjenkins]

geraskefer "crispy has lost control of their life again" celebration sneak peek

this fic is really really heavy, in ways none of my other works are, so please read the following warnings closely even though i don't actually talk about any of those heavy things in this excerpt this is, however, a story that's very near and dear to me and i really love the world building i've done with it so far, and am actually almost done writing it but it's over 40,000 words and just wanna talk about it 😭

inspired by of music and motion and love (and it’s companion piece) by writethroughthenight on ao3.

warnings/tags: implied/referenced/off-screen sexual assault, canon-typical violence (non-sexual tho), stregobor-typical human experimentation, implied and canon-typical fantastical racism, implied/referenced torture (like it’s not really torture but it’s not NOT torture y'feel?), jaskier whump, no post-mountain geralt vilification, poly-heavy like this is very much a poly fic, minor mind/body control but no outright possession, good valdo marx, jaskier is the sandpiper, angsty but very much with a HAPPY ENDING

 She sighs and lets him kiss his cheek before ushering their strange little party out the door and down a servants’ passageway to the stables. To his relief, it’s just their means of escape, and they don’t actually have to deal with smuggling a horse or two; despite knowing she’ll be back the next time Geralt buys a chestnut mare, Jaskier still mourns whatever current Roach Geralt had to have left behind somewhere between Cintra and Temeria. 

  Also in their favour is the fact that everyone here is quite used to sneaking and hiding for their lives, so it’s quick work to move through Wyzima’s dark streets towards Dandelion. Any time Jaskier has to do something Geralt or Yennefer don’t expect (paying off a watchman here, steering them around patrols there, and even whistling a short code to one of the side business’ other Birds to allow them through a locked gate to cut through someone’s garden), Jaskier feels their curious and considering stares at his back, Yennefer’s with grudging admiration, and Geralt’s with slightly-accusatory guilt. 

  Whatever, Jaskier doesn’t owe Geralt anything, least of all an explanation for his unexplainable skills.

  Luckily, he only has to kill one person during the trek, one of Foltest’s soldiers that recognises Geralt as they pass, and Jaskier doesn’t have time to hesitate, flicking a terribly-thin throwing dagger from his left sleeve with enough force to stick it through the soldier’s throat to the hilt. After he retrieves his dagger, Geralt is back to not looking at him at all.

  They reach Dandelion in just over an hour thanks to shortcuts and an old smuggling tunnel, arriving at a small two-storey cottage in a relatively nice area of the city, with no distinguishing features except a single paper Dandelion in a vase in the curtained front window. Jaskier leads them around to the back (the front doors of all the safehouses are sealed and barred, with magic and wooden slats both), and uses a small burst of his own magic to unlock the door to the cellar.

  He makes sure everyone enters ahead of him, closing and relocking everything with the same touch of chaos that has Yennefer’s nose twitching, then ushers Destiny’s Trio up into the cottage properly.

  It’s sparsely decorated, it’s not exactly meant to house anyone for more than a night at most, but the warm wood furniture and whitewashed walls are actually quite cozy, if Jaskier says so himself. Amused, he watches understanding dawn on everyone’s faces when they see the collection of paper dandelions tied together on the kitchen table.

  Yennefer turns to Jaskier. “Dandelion is the safehouse?”

  “Of course, my dear witch!” Flouncing into the kitchen, he quickly —though not quite painlessly— unslings his satchel to drop it onto the table next to the dandelions. “So are Buttercup, and Chamomile, though in your defense Poppy is very much a person.”

  “Jaskier.”

  He winces, taking a deep breath before finally meeting Geralt’s golden eyes for the first time since he’d burst into Triss’ infirmary. Do Cirilla and Yennefer realise just how much emotion their stoic witcher is showing right then? Pain in the clench of his jaw, confusion and the fear of that confusion held in the tension of his shoulders, worry in the lines of his pursed lips?

  Fuck, this is why Jaskier never wanted to see Geralt again, because he remembers when Geralt used to look at him with that much emotion all the time, back before Yennefer fucked her way into both their lives, back before Geralt had lost them both.

  “Geralt,” he murmurs tiredly, sagging to lean on the back of the chair.  “Why do you have multiple safehouses?” The ‘Why do you need multiple safehouses?’ goes unsaid.

-

[hosannan]

Pocket Full of Posies { Lachesis & Nanna

There was a sleepless element to the way you loved someone, especially when they were more further gone than there. Nanna knew she grew up more on the idea of Her than an actual, tangible figure, but she proved herself keen on folly long after that warmth was lost. She would close her eyes, having sat up too quickly, and count the stars on the back of her eyelids, hoping her mother would do the same. (Where ever she was.) There was an element of love in pretending that this was still real—as she imagined those arms were still strewn around the soft arch of a little girl left to grow flowers out of her ribcage. Oh, how she could pretend.

Nanna descended from the outdoor stairway, cutting it close between two crossing merchants with boughs of long-stemmed, flowing flowers on each arm. Lengthy branches of plum blossoms and orchids vaulted for a brief moment like a beautifully ornate bridge, obscuring her vision between flutters of soft white and enriched purples. She trotted backwards to avoid being accosted by pollen and petal, only to vaguely discern the silhouette of a woman who had never lied to Nanna in her life. (In fact, she had never told the truth, either. Having been lost the way she was, everything Lachesis ever was was a dream.)

As swiftly as the branches had arched overhead, Nanna caught her heart in her throat and her delusions in the back of her eyelids. The arch of flowers broke as soon as the merchants pedaled away from each other, and in their clearing, all Nanna could see was the gossamer cut of sun against that woman's back. Again. Again, watching the backs of others. Nanna dreamt of winded capes and the curve of a distant back more often than a face, nowadays.

"Mother!" Nanna cried out, willing to risk injury to her pride for the chance to see her face. It couldn't have been her. She had not seemed to have changed for even a second since she had last left Nanna in her father's care. Were these last 16 years apart unable to touch her? Could change come to a woman who only existed in her memories?

It mattered not if it wasn't her.

Love was an easy thing for Nanna. Even when it was hard.

"Mother!"

The hard clicks of her heels against cobblestone began to match her own heartbeat, as both stirred in her eardrums on a will of their own. Nanna's calloused hands met the gloved shape of another, and in a silent prayer, she blamed the gloves for having not recognized the warmth behind them. "I've been looking all over for you..." Her voice was fierce for only a moment, having stated the truth and nothing but the truth, but it gave way to something raw, something vulnerable that she could not hold back. Her eyes crinkled in sadness, in joy, piercing the sky in a way the sun would.

As she finally met the woman's eyes, she felt a rose spread from her chest. And she plucked it, as it peeked from her ribcage. "It... It really is you..."

@lionheartedsunflower

[dilfsisko]

I love my fursona. Would love to actually draw them one day

[chaosmultiverse]

@funtimes-n-faz-kids count from the source

"Circus Baby?" Forget the gag she was going to pull about collecting names, there was more important business! "Oh I simply love the circus! What a wonderful name you have Baby! It's so fun!"

"And I am wonderful! I mean, I'm a little confused about why everyone I've seen is so shiny but I am so excited to meet you and your friends! I haven't met new people in so long, it's always so nice to make new friends." There was a smile on the puppets face, well there had been one before but it was wider now.

"What about you, new friend?"

[takunwilliams]

bukakke flowers 2024

drawing by technodrome1

[theperplexedpoet]

posied pockets

the nursery it set the rhyme this cursory rhythm in time the worst of me is on the line the nursery it set the rhyme hearts and lockets posied pockets but none are safe within the storm lightning crashes sparks and flashes the fires blaze and keep us warm hearts and lockets posied pockets these trespasses they seed the ground sacrifices moral crisis ashes, ashes we all fall down the nursery it set the rhyme this cursory rhythm in time the worst of me is on the line the nursery it set the rhyme hearts and lockets posied pockets the petals fail the silver too lightning crashes on the classes the bonds are frail the flames ensue hearts and lockets posied pockets in black masses we gather 'round sacrifices moral crisis ashes, ashes we all fall down (3/16/24)