Sometimes in the zombie flower apocalypse family can be just you and your dad (who's perfectly fine actually and definitely healthy and alive)

- @one.paper.crane

flowers for the dead

This week I've really been missing my bestie. We lost her a year and a half ago. Shit still hurts like it was yesterday.

Cherish those you love & let em know. Even if you and your people don't talk everyday. A little check in/I fk with you text can mean more than you know. You never know when's your last hello..

Yules...There's just so much life happening & I can't even share it with you. I miss laughing with you so fkn much.🌻 Descanse en paz comadre.💛

Flowers for the dead

Place them on my bed

Let my body burn

Cast to the fire to return

there's a cherry blossom tree in DC that keeps blooming every year even though it shouldn't and the park service keeps thinking it's dead and then it keeps blooming! well they're removing a lot of trees to rehabilitate the area and they've said it's finally time for stumpy to go and they're going to mulch it and use the mulch to enrich all the other trees so it can help everything else keep going. and they're also going to plant spliced little pieces of it all over so that stumpy can live forever and this is genuinely sending me into a spiral

Yarrow and Feverfew

Art trade with the incredible @liscepu, I'm so grateful for the chance! Thank you for fueling my love for the game again <3

i can't believe martyn didn't warn scott that people die when they are killed

Sirius: you know James gives Regulus flowers all the time, I think you should do that too.

Remus: …okay…

*the next day*

Remus: *gives Regulus flowers

Regulus: ???

Remus: I don’t know, I’m confused as well

Sirius: I MEANT GIVE ME FLOWERS! NOT MY BROTHER!!!

Remus: WELL THEN SAY THAT!

Regulus: They’re lovely thank you

James: Don’t steal my man Remus!

Remus: I GIVE UP!

Peter Newcombe (British, 1943), White Dead Nettles, 1984. Oil on board, 26.5 x 24.3 cm.

flowers for a lady

Grogu from the fic I'm working on rn (flowers for the undead)

name moodboard for “tallulah” for anonymous

it's immensely funny to me how andrew lloyd webber read this passage from the book and was like yeah the journey down to the phantom's lair is this really breathtaking magical gondola ride where christine is just captivated by the strange and fantastical beauty of it all (see below)

when in the novel they're both like in a rowboat in the dark with christine scared out of her mind and confused as hell while erik is paddling like he's out for an extreme day of fishing and just staring christine down for the entire duration of the journey without blinking once . like mind you his eyes quite literally GLOW in the DARK and he's just fucking staring into her soul and silently rowing and probably not even breathing like

Cujo the Bathound

EDIT: Now a fic on AO3 :) : Let Dead Dogs Lie “Hand over the dog.” Gotham’s reputation for crime and many flavors of strange preceded it, but Danny did not anticipate being robbed at sword point for a dog. Granted, a green, glowing dog does attract some attention, but this was a city with rampaging clowns and toxic sludge. Cujo wriggled excitedly in his arms, tightening the leash wrapped around Danny’s wrist. “This dog?” Danny freed his other hand to point at Cujo emphatically, cartoonishly looking around the deserted alleyway as if the sword swinging child might have been mistaken. “Are you sure? You can have my wallet, it has 15 cents and a Bat Burger punch card, only one more visit for a free side!” “Don’t be absurd.” “Yeah, I heard you used to get a free combo. Punch cards aren’t what they used to be.” The edge of the blade pressed into Danny’s throat, Cujo jumped down and Danny raised his hands placatingly, keeping the leash out of reach of the would-be petnapper. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, what kind of person would let someone take their dog?” The kid’s face softened slightly at that, and Danny took the opportunity to swat the sword away, scoop up Cujo, and run. “STOP!” Danny kept running. Faintly, he heard the click of a device, but no one pursued him. It was a good thing too. He lied about the punch card. “Hand over the dog.” Gotham’s reputation for crime and many flavors of strange preceded it, but Danny did not anticipate being robbed at sword point for a dog. Granted, a green, glowing dog does attract some attention, but this was a city with rampaging clowns and toxic sludge. Cujo wriggled excitedly in his arms, tightening the leash wrapped around Danny’s wrist. “This dog?” Danny freed his other hand to point at Cujo emphatically, cartoonishly looking around the deserted alleyway as if the sword swinging child might have been mistaken. “Are you sure? You can have my wallet, it has 15 cents and a Bat Burger punch card, only one more visit for a free side!” “Don’t be absurd.” “Yeah, I heard you used to get a free combo. Punch cards aren’t what they used to be.” The edge of the blade pressed into Danny’s throat, Cujo jumped down and Danny raised his hands placatingly, keeping the leash out of reach of the would-be petnapper. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, what kind of person would let someone take their dog?” The kid’s face softened slightly at that, and Danny took the opportunity to swat the sword away, scoop up Cujo, and run. “STOP!” Danny kept running. Faintly, he heard the click of a device, but no one pursued him. It was a good thing too. He lied about the punch card.

Cujo was Ace the Bathound. Need I say more???