#pushin daisies

[this-boys]

Lee Pace attends the Thom Browne Haute Couture Fall/Winter 2023/2024 show as part of Paris Fashion Week at Palais Garnier on July 03, 2023 in Paris, France.

[jax-bloom]

{9} “I can’t develop feelings. That’s how most idiots screw up.”

Body: Ebody Reborn + Juicy boobs addon

Head: Lelutka Gaia

Skin: Glam Affair - Mei (icy)

Hair: Magika - Oats

Ears: Swallow - Gauged (human)

Ear jewelry: Pushin’ Daisies - Simjang gauges (human / solids)

Eyes: Someone - Matrix eyes (clear blue)

Brows: Simple Bloom - LivSpring Neutral

Lashes: Malina - Boo eyelashes

Choker: Kibitz - Twisted Heart choker

Tank: Renie - Willow Tank Top

Shorts: Kottr - Cakes booty shorts (comes with Cakes booty mod)

Tattoo - House of Pain - Death Note tattoo sleeve (healed)

Bruises: Jack Spoon - Juicy hickey (combo)

[pancakedinglegagger]

ᴡɪɴɢꜱ-ᴛᴏ1220-ʜᴀɪʀ ᴘᴜꜱʜɪɴ' ᴅᴀɪꜱɪᴇꜱ - ꜱɪᴍᴊᴀɴɢ ɢᴀᴜɢᴇꜱ ꜰᴇᴡɴᴇꜱꜱ - ʜᴇᴀʀᴛɴᴇꜱꜱ ɢʟᴀꜱꜱᴇꜱ @ᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛ29 ᴏᴛᴀᴋᴜ. ʙᴇʟʟ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʀ ʟᴏᴋɪ - ᴠɪᴠɪᴀɴ ᴛɪᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴅʀᴇꜱꜱ @ᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛ29 ʀᴜꜱꜱᴋᴀʏᴀ - ᴊᴇɴɴɪᴇ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ @ᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛ29

[nxttheendxfthestxry]

"Okay, let's make one thing clear. Do not threaten my family."

[afcmtnpz40]

Nala Brooks 1st spanking at Spanking Glamor... CONTINUE...

[jentledaisies]

hey hey

drumroll pls!!!!! a bitch is officially 20!!

my teen years are done and now i have no more excuses to not be an adult,,gotta love that for me.

as miss queen sabrina carpenter would say, i’m pushing 20!!! (i’m writing this before my bday SO IT COUNTS)

thank you all for giving me such a safe space since i was 18. for letting me write freely and without pressure, even when my schedule is spotty at best and loving me anyway.

♡♡♡♡

[chibipwincess]

S P O N S O R E D

ʚ THE KAWAII PROJECT ɞ

⁞ ୨୧ ‣ Lipstick by { wistaria } // Eunji Jelly Tints @TheKawaiiProject

⁞ ୨୧ ‣ Hairpins by oddle oddle. pom-pom hairband @TheKawaiiProject

ʚ THE KAWAII PROJECT ɞ

Ears & Tails by .STOIC. LYNX PARTS @Mainstore

Outfit by {HIME*DREAM} Reina Outfit  @Access

────── °.  「 e x t r a ◦ i n f o r m a t i o n 」 .° ──────

── G e n e t i c s

‣ Head: LeLUTKA Briannon Head 3.1 .

‣ Shape: . Yubbi . // Personal Shape .

‣Skin: Heaux.

‣ Eyes: —–

‣ Blush: Cake Inc. + [Utopia]

‣ Body: eBODY - REBORN + Waifu Boobs

‣ Hair: VCO ~ KUROI Hair / Rigged / (WEAR)

── N o t ◦ s p o n s o r s

Shoes: (fd) Baggy Bells - Dusty

Glasses: Pushin’ Daisies - Namsi Horns - White

[this-boys]

Lee Pace attends the Thom Browne Womenswear Spring/Summer 2023 show as part of Paris Fashion Week on October 03, 2022 in Paris, France.

[spiritofjustice]

their dedication to having Inga talk like a 1920s gangster all the time is sooo funny to me. everyone else in this royal family talks in a really formal, flowery, if not downright stilted way and you got him here shooting Dhurke and going "you're gonna be pushin' up daisies, see??" like why is he like that KRKFJ

[lmaioiod]

pushin’ up daisies!

[nxttheendxfthestxry]

S'chn L'Vorr Hope makes it back to her counterparts apartment as quickly as she can. She gets in the door and rushes to Brandon the moment she sees him, hugging him tightly. "I hate it here."

- ( @storystartsanew )

Brandon Breyer instantly pulls his sister in, hugging her tightly and rubbing her back a bit, somewhat awkward but better than he once was. "Me, too. Did you see mom, or-- anyone, on the way?"

The hybrid rolls his eyes and gags to himself. Gross, honestly.

[oxalisvulcanicola]

"It's not pining it's passed on! This parrot is no more! It has ceased to be! It's expired and gone to meet its maker! This, is a late parrot! It's a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed it to the perch, it would be pushin' up the daisies! It's rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible!

"THIS IS AN EX PARROT!"

[ashtons-lemon-tree]

5SOS as euphemisms used for the word ‘dead’ by fictional Italian mobsters

Creds to this post

Calum

Off to join the skeleton war

Presently huntin down Reagan

Turnin into plants

Kicked the oxygen habit

Pushin up daisies

Six feet under

Ashton

Beefed it mega hard

He earned a livin but now he’s livin in an urn

Yee’d his last haw

Croaked

Takin a dirt nap

Cashed in their chips

Luke

She’s denaturing

Rollin in the deep

Closin her eyes for an extended period of time

Wasted

Kicked the bucket

Michael

She’s riggin her mortis

Went to live at the big farm

Got murderalized

Bit the dust

Pining for the Fjords

Sleepin with the fishes

[annikavelde]

{.743.}

.:ANATOMY:. Head: LeLutka - Ceylon Body: Ebody - Reborn Hair: KUNI - Olivia Dog Ears: SugarNova - Floppy Dog Ears

.:CLOTHING:. Muzzle: Random Matter - Zakei Muzzle Collar: Mug - Deviant Doll Collar Cuffs: Mug - Deviant Doll Handcuffs Tail: VALKYR - Puppy Tail Outfit: TRIGGERED - Everly Set *NEW* @ Kinky Event Stockings: Rotten x Pushin’ Daisies (Rotting Daisies) - Alice Socks

.:SCENE:. Background: FOXCITY - Rude - Nudes Mono past gacha Pose: MEWSERY - Satsuriku

[foolofatook001]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I got tagged by @havenotwillnotreadthebooks (wooo!) <3

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

I have 69 works rn lol

2. What's your total ao3 wordcount?

308,253!!! Which is a lot. My goodness.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Oh, so many. My biggest ones in terms of fic number are dsmp and then atla, although I think the life series is catching up

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

they are all dsmp which makes sense because the fandom is (was?) absolutely forking massive

We'll See Where We Land (296 kudos); Death and Her Angel (246 kudos); I Don't Discriminate (Between the Sinners and the Saints) (239 kudos); I'll Go With You (225 kudos); History Has Its Eyes On You (198 kudos) (wow I really went for the Hamilton titles lol)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I do! I don't get many comments, so I always try to reply when I do, because it's exciting to know that people enjoyed my writing :D

6. What is your fic with the angstiest ending?

Oh definitely How Soft Your Fields lol. No spoilers but that one got some people.

7. What is your fic with the happiest ending?

I'm gonna go with Sleepless in the Fire Nation, I think

8. Do you get hate on your fics?

Nope! Kefi also said this but I'd say I'm not a big enough fish to get hate lol

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Also nope.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's your craziest crossover?

I do write crossovers on occasion. As far as "craziest" goes, either Diplomatic Relations, which is an Avatar the Last Airbender/Lunar Chronicles crossover, or my Magnus Archives/Lord Huron lore series lol (this one more for like. nicheness)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I'm aware. Like I said, small fish.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have not! Definitely down if anyone ever asks though

13. Have you co-written any fics?

I have! Who Killed Markiplier: Origins, with my dear friend who goes by Madness_Life_and_Choice on ao3, and then I'll Be Back Again, which was part of a collaborative "telephone" event I did with the ever-wonderful stardust server.

14. What is your all-time favorite ship?

Gotta go with Zutara for this one. It's definitely one of the ones I've shipped the longest, and a lot of the tropes/characteristics they have are what I find I like in other ships as well

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt will actually happen?

NGL a lot of my multichap dsmp fics. Some of them I have outlines for, and I feel bad for letting them languish, but I probably won't be back to them any time soon (although idk I've been rereading a lot of my bookmarks lately lol)

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'd probably say character voice? I like to think I'm pretty good at letting the character shine through in dialogue and in narration.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I don't always do enough description, I think-- I forget that not everyone has the same image in their head as I do.

18. What are your thoughts on dialogue in other languages in fic?

It can be done well and it can be done poorly, and it's Really Irritating when done poorly.

19. What was your first fandom?

Avatar: The Last Airbender.

20. What's your favorite fic you've written?

Probably Lord Knows I Should Be Pushin' Daisies, which was my first TMA/Lord Huron crossover and very near and dear to my heart (Johnnie Redmayne my boy my beloved <3)

tag time! I shall tag @wikipedianna, @liminalumi, @randomprojectedkat and @fennzer

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // keep pushin’ forward.

in which the dust settles in carentan — but a medic's work is never finished.

masterlist | gallery | taglist

WARNINGS: typical discussions of war & death, brief mentions of period-typical sexism

SUMMARY: the first day of fighting draws to a tentative close, and as the men prepare for an inevitable counterattack — daisy learns some new names.

For a moment, all Daisy does is rapidly blink, not expecting the solid form she bumps into before her eyes finally move upward to get a look at the person’s face. Brown eyes, brown hair, upturned nose and now that she has a better look at him — his face is clear of any abrasions or cuts, which is a bit surprising all things considered. But his arms are crossed over his chest in a way that exudes the type of fresh-faced cockiness that a lot of the soldiers hadn’t quite shed yet.

“Long time no see.” Whatever anger he’d been struggling to contain earlier seems to have dissipated slightly — or maybe he was filtering it and turning it into this confidence he radiates now.

“Ah… Liebgott, right?” She asks, choosing to ignore the line he’s thrown her way. He nods, looking her up and down in a examining way.

“That’s right, Nurse…”

“Daisy’s fine enough. For now. Nurse Clarke when I’m stitchin’ your guts back in though.” And although she doesn’t necessarily mean to be funny, he laughs irregardless and she doesn’t have it in her to defend herself. Laughter is good. Morale boosts are good. They’ve got a long fight ahead of them and she isn’t going to be the one to spoil the few happy moments they get in between.

“Right okay, Daisy,” she’s not used to hearing the name leave the lips of anyone beyond those in her unit, which was still a rarity. In the past six days she’s gotten used to responding to the wails of Nurse! Liebgott’s face grows serious for a moment after that. “What’d you think Tipper’s chances are then, Daisy?”

She furrows her brows. She’s never been one for lying and she doesn’t think it wise to start now, so she hums as she tries to compose a response for him.

“A bit slim. There’s just no way we’re saving that eye. He’s gonna need one hell of a surgeon to save his legs,” and then she looks up at him, reaches out and gives his forearm a gentle squeeze. “Luckily we have one hell of a surgeon up at the field hospital. Once you boys cleared out the area he was the first one up there. They’re slim, but they’re there. Promise.”

Liebgott nods along in understanding, before his eyes fall to where her hand rests on his arm, and his eyebrow raises, a bit of a smirk growing on his face as his gaze shifts back to her. Realizing what she had done, Daisy’s hand quickly retracts and she feels the tips of her ears heating up in embarrassment — she can hear Liebgott let out a self-serving laugh as she folds her hands in front of herself and stares up at him for a moment longer.

“So, you gonna be sticking around for a bit or what?” She reaches up, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear which had fallen from it’s low bun, and gives him a bit of a shrug.

“Depends on what the medical situation is gonna look like. Your numbers took a pretty heavy hit on D-Day, they might mobilize us or keep us at the field hospitals depending on what the situation calls for,” It sounds way more strategic this way than bluntly going ‘I've got no idea.’ She takes her lip between her teeth for a moment before releasing it. They taste irony. “Right now I’m not sure since I’ve been here all day.” Then his expression changes — she isn’t sure if it’s mischief or excitability or what — but she watches as Liebgott reaches out to grab her wrist. Daisy bites her cheek at the familiarity of the gesture, stares into his eyes, and gives him a questioning look.

“Well, just in case, you’d better meet the boys then, huh?” Her mouth runs dry for a moment, unsure where this burst of energy came from, but at the same time but at the same time Liebgott seems more than eager and if this is a way to distract him from his own worry about Tipper, she won’t be the one to shut him down. She lets out a sigh, and nods.

“Guess you’re right. Don’t need any more men half-glarin’ at me 'cause I asked for his name,” Now it’s Liebgott’s turn to snort, and she doesn’t miss the way his ears turn a little pink before he’s dragging her through the now repossessed Carentan.

As it turns out, Joseph Liebgott is a proud member of Easy Company’s 2nd Battalion. And “meeting the boys” means pointing them out to her with a teasing grin on his face and giving each of them his own form of increasingly crude commentary. There’s Bill Guarnere, or rather Gonorrhea as they liked to call him — thickly accented with a clean, fresh face. There’s also Lipton, who she remembers as the poor man with the shrapnel in his thigh and face. In the aftermath, she’s a little more embarrassed to have seen his… delicates, but she chooses to keep that information to herself.

There’s Malarkey, who approaches with big, curious eyes and a wound on his hand that Daisy is insistent on wrapping up at the very least, and Malarkey simply stares at her with parted lips as she goes about wrapping it with a piece of cloth. Daisy gives him a quirked brow.

“Is there something wrong, sir?” she asks, to which he promptly shakes his head.

“No! No I just…”

“Have never felt the touch of a woman?” Liebgott remarks and Malarkey shoots him a half-glare. Daisy’s eyebrows shoot up, Malarkey’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, and she lets his hand fall unceremoniously.

“I’m sure you’ll find a lovely French wife soon enough, Donald,” she teases, and once Malarkey realizes she isn’t actually upset with him, he lets out a stiff and breathy laugh of his own. They exchange brief words, more pleasantries and a ‘It was nice to meet you miss…’ and before she can answer, Liebgott is immediately parroting her own words.

“Daisy. Nurse Clarke when she’s stitchin’ your guts in.” Malarkey tests out the name on his own lips, before finishing with a ‘It was nice to meet you… Daisy.’ before he’s moving off in a direction unknown to her.

Guarnere, Lipton, Malarkey, and then later she can add Talbert, Webster, and “Buck Compton” to the list as well. She squeezes Eugene Roe and Winters in there as well at some point, and all the while as she and Liebgott move around she can feel the lingering stares of other soldiers. It’s not an uncommon thing, but she’s always been a bit too perceptive for her own liking, so she can still feel it, the occasional mutter of ‘Liebgott’s already makin’ his move, eh?’ She just rolls her eyes at the notion. Beyond the initial grab of her wrist to move her along, he’s kept his hands to himself and hasn’t thrown any more lines her way. But he keeps her laughing and laughs at her own attempts at a joke or two — for a moment she wonders if they, too, could be friends.

There’s no guarantee she’ll be back here soon, however, so she doesn’t pose that question to him.

He’s in the middle of recounting the story of his friend Popeye and the misfortune that resulted in him taking a bullet to the rear when, from across the courtyard, she hears a voice call out.

“Hey Liebgott, hurry it up, huh? Speirs says we’re moving out soon, apparently.”

Without meaning to, her gaze snaps to the person calling to him. She doesn’t recognize the man, but presumes his name is ‘Skip’ from Liebgott’s mildly irritated muttering. Her blood runs cold, and she wants to ask if she heard correctly, but decides to give herself some plausible deniability by keeping her mouth shut, biting the inside of her cheek. Liebgott turns to look at her — and she feels almost guilty for being a million miles away, not even thinking about goodbyes.

“We’re getting ready to move out. Hopefully I see you around, Nurse,” he runs his fingers through his hair, and Daisy musters up a smile for him.

“I wouldn’t say hopefully, but maybe you will. I’ve gotta get back to the field hospital anyway. My captain’ll likely bite my head off if I delay any further,” they exchange one last smile and a wave as Liebgott makes his way back towards Skip, and she’s left alone with her thoughts as she makes her own way back to the awaiting jeep that’s going to take her back to her side of the war.

Speirs says we’re moving out soon.

She weighs her options and outcomes as she climbs into the passenger’s seat.

If it is him — then it means he’s alive. That his mother won’t be burying a son. It also means that there’s a chance she’ll have to see him, and she isn’t sure what she’d even say without it coming across as cruel and cold. She’s never seen herself as cruel or cold, but who knows what he thinks now. If it isn’t him, then as far as she’s concerned — Ronald Speirs is still somewhere out there in the world, lost to her. If anything happens, she’ll be completely ignorant to it.

Cruel as it may be, she prefers the latter of the two options.

This changes nothing, she’s half-heartedly scolding herself as they pull into the field hospital. He changes nothing. And she mildly curses herself for having such a visceral reaction, but when she gets off the jeep and Rita’s immediately rushing towards her and pulling her into a hug — she immediately pushes aside that chill for the warmth of her friend’s embrace.

“Pats is hangin’ in there. No clue on death count yet but we’ve got a breather now that they’ve left Carentan. Ginny says we’re stayin’ put for a while though, they’re expectin’ a counterattack — all hand’s on deck situation.” Rita slings her arm over Daisy’s shoulders as they make their way towards one of the larger tents holding recovering soldiers. If there was one person who could deliver such intense news so casually — it was Rita McCarney.

They enter the main tent, and the other women greet them as they pass, and Rita delivers Daisy straight to Captain Brant — her hair frizzy, face flushed, but still smiling with all the radiance of the sun that was breaking past the clouds after all the fighting.

“They took good care of you down there?” she asks playfully, and Daisy laughs lightly.

“Yes ma’am, think they were just happy to have a woman around,” Ginny laughs at the remark, pulling Daisy in for a brief squeeze.

“Good to hear. Bet Rita already told you but they’re expecting a counterattack. We stay put here for now, till we’re ordered to move out. We’ve already started moving boys up into a proper hospital back in England.” She takes a scan of the area, doesn’t see Liebgott’s mangled friend, and only hopes he’d been moved up to the aforementioned hospital. The itch satiated — she no longer feels that dire sense of usefulness. They recuperate, reorganize, tend to the wounded as best they can despite the beds filling up at a rapid rate.

They’ll make do with what they have, worry about the rest later.

Daisy isn’t sure exactly how many they lose in the following days, but the field hospital was easily overcrowded with wounded and dying men. There’s not enough beds, not enough supplies, and to get a little over three hours of sleep is a blessing. Her body cries out in protest, but Daisy has never been one to complain.

Apparently, Rita sarcastically remarks one night, as they’re scrounging for whatever supplies they could spare in one of the tents intended for storage, they ain’t account for the Germans havin’ freakin’ tanks. Lucky our boys in the armored unit made it when they did.

Lucky is certainly a word to describe it, but it’s hard to feel lucky when the amount of bodies outweighs the amount of beds they have onhand. At the very least, they’d strengthened the beachheads and were now anticipating more supplies coming in and, hopefully enough, more hands on deck.

“I’m tellin’ you, Pats. I’ve got the most stubborn freakin’ guy in the whole damn company.” Rita moans. Back on bandage cleaning duty, trying to find what the four of them can salvage. Daisy hears Patty giggle quietly at Rita’s complaints. “Had to practically wrestle the guy into bed. I mean seriously, you just took a piece of a freakin’ grenade to the head and your guys ain’t goin’ nowhere till we get the order to move out. Relax!”

“Bet you're really missing North Africa now,” Daisy teases, to which Rita once again groans. “This guy got a name?”

Rita shrugs as she dumps more bloodied bandages into the pot, pushing them further down.

“No clue, but he’s a damn broody type to top it off — feathers all ruffled cause he can’t do nothin till he’s healed.” A lot of soldiers were like that. She’d already see a fair few make a break for it and go AWOL from the 42nd — she didn’t think it’d be much different here. Daisy still isn’t sure if it’s noble or stupid.

“At least he isn’t going AWOL.” Daisy reminds her, and she can hear Patty’s giggling only grow in volume, as well as the unceremonious thwap of wet cloth against a wood table in the center of the room.

“Oh I’d drag ‘em back by his freakin’ ears if he went AWOL. Mark my words.”

She doesn’t doubt it for a second. Rita had been in it longer than the three of them — being transferred from North Africa to Europe as Invasion day edged ever closer. Daisy was almost certain she’d dealt with every type of “frustrating soldier boy” there was to deal with. So she just laughs at Rita’s grumbling, reaching over to give her a reassuring shoulder squeeze and a half-amused smile, to which she rolls her eyes but smiles back at her regardless, leaning over to put her head on Daisy’s shoulder for a moment.

“Do me a favor, Dais?” she asks, her voice a little softer now. Daisy hums in response. “There’s a whole crate of plasma n’ other supplies I’ve still gotta run by supply office, think you can do it for me?” She nods in agreement, and Rita mutters out more specific directions on where exactly the crate is, before Daisy is making her way out the door and towards that side of the field hospital.

The clamor of medics and men floods her ears as she walks. Her body is undeniably sore and achy, her head pounds and any sunlight almost seems like too much for her sleep-deprived eyes to handle, but she continues to walk. The tent in question isn’t too far removed from the central part of the village they’d holed up in, so it’s not exactly too difficult to find. She walks in, each crate arranged in neat-enough stacks, marked off with varying tags to indicate delivery date, whether the supplies inside had been accounted for.

She skims the labels before finding the designated crate, and moves to take it into her arms.

“Nurse McCarney? Are you in there?”

She lugs the wooden box into her arms with a heave, hears the rustling of tent fabric behind her as someone walks into the tent. As she begins to turn slowly, she calls out her own reply.

“No, no, McCarney’s busy, it’s—”

“Daisy?”

The sound of the wood crate clattering to the floor is deafening.