#sunday flowers

[fairytaleprincessart]

[funkyflowers12]

The Funky Bunch

The funky bunches is a group of musicians who have been a part of a number of hits over the years. Their most notable track is “Good Vibrations”, which made it to the top of the Billboard charts in 1991. They are also known for their signature catchy riffs and rhyming lyrics.

A funky bunch has a lot of different names, a few of which are surprisingly well known to those in the know. They are often a source of pride for the members, but not necessarily to those who work with them.

A great example of this is the Tusk chair, which aims to defy expectations while still being comfortable for those who need it. Its unique shape features two distinct “tusks” that connect the back and seat to the leg rest, a design that is not only a funky sight in person, but also one of the best ergonomic chairs on the market.

The Most Magical Bunk in the world - There are many perks to working at a company that does things differently, but one that stands out is the flexibility boxed flowers delivery. The team is always on the lookout for new and exciting ways to provide more and better service to our customers. They are also constantly testing the latest products and services to make sure we keep our customers happy.

If you are in the market for a pair of funky pants, check out our newest designs! To know more information visit at funkyflowers.com.au.

[truepinkshape]

Summer magic 🌸

[corallapis]

Yeah, but you've got a granddaughter? Like, now? Like, today? Back in our time — my time. Ah! Where is she? I don't know. How can you not know?

[halloween-sweets]

[happyheidi]

[gatoburr0]

Splatoon AU with Deep Cut except their band name actually fits their songs (because metal)

[retracexcviii]

Sunday Moon

Hi there dear fellows and Luna lovers. Sunday is here.

Don't edit this drawing and don't post it anywhere.

This really lovely Luna was made by an artist that is active on the fandom to support Palestine.

The artist is @/cinnajer on Twitter.

[thatbuddie]

after buck and eddie get together, eddie starts giving buck absentminded kisses all the time.

kiss on the forehead after he passes him his morning coffee. kiss on the cheek while buck is cooking dinner. kiss on the back of his hand as buck drives them to bobby’s house for a family bbq. kiss on top of his head while they cuddle watching a documentary. kiss on his shoulder while they sit on the station couch reading in between calls.

but buck’s favorite kisses? the ones edde blows him from a distance. when no one is looking during a call and they have to separate, buck doing evac and eddie treating some minor burns. when buck is pulling out of the their driveway to go meet maddie and jee for lunch and eddie sees him off from the front porch. during their family night out at the movies with chris in between them before the action film their son chose and they’re both probably going to hate begins.

every single blown kiss is always followed by eddie mouthing “i love you” at him, and every single time buck feels himself start to blush, the butterflies in his stomach staging a very chaotic and uncoordinated flash mob.

there’s something so exhilarating about knowing that no matter how close or far away they physically are eddie always wants to be kissing him. like eddie knows just as well as buck does that his lips were always meant to graze buck’s skin and leave behind goosebumps for hours to come.

even when they can’t see each other at all, buck knows eddie is thinking about it too because eddie does not go more than 3 hours without sending him little 😘 emojis. he doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t contextualize them because he doesn’t need to. it's just random 😘 throughout the day, scattered in between the rest of their texts.

buck [3:33pm]: got caught in traffic, chris and i will be there soon! eddie [3:33pm]: ok, hen and denny just arrived eddie [6:03pm]: 😘

&

eddie [11:27am]: can you write “chris dentist appointment” on the kitchen calendar for 10/17? buck [11:31am]: done! eddie [11:32am]: thanks, baby eddie [2:16pm]: 😘

&

buck [10:08am]: we also need eggs! buck [11:43am]: remind me to replace the lightbulb in chris’s bedside lamp eddie [1:14pm]: 😘 eddie [3:09pm]: your amazon package just arrived buck [3:09pm]: yaaaaaaay eddie [7:24pm]: 😘

&

eddie [6:02am]: 😘 eddie [8:56am]: 😘 eddie [9:07am]: 😘 eddie [12:31pm]: 😘 buck [3:17pm]: 😘😘😘

[prisonhannibal]

Jude and Nemoira from On Sundays She Picked Flowers by @fluoresensitive! Jude made Nemoira that cute blouse and she made it with LOVE!!

If you've followed me for a while you might remember that I did the art for the hardcover version of the book in 2022 (!!! such an exciting and fun project to work on) This was one of the early concepts that we didn't end up using, but I found the sketch and decided to finish it for fun <3 If you still haven't read On Sundays go read it right now! You can buy it here

[fairytaleprincessart]

[photographss-world]

“Ben sizin ruhunuza çiçek aşısı yapayım. Da çiçekler açsın ruhunuz.”

Didem Madak...

[fluoresensitive]

ON SUNDAYS, SHE PICKED FLOWERS, YAH YAH SCHOLFIELD: LINER NOTES, PATREON EXCLUSIVE

There is no such thing as art without inspiration. We are a visual and sensual people, likely to draw influence and ideas from the most benign of experiences. A piece of music, a photograph, a painting— you cannot get through the process of writing without having had something guide your aesthetics.

On Sundays, She Picked Flowers is a culmination of eight years of watching, listening, and observing. It is the end result of my being raised in the Black baptist church, of generational violence and trauma, of my lived experiences as a very lonely, and a little touched, Black lesbian. You can't separate these truths from the novel. I am Black, so my characters are Black and do Black things and have Black thoughts, Black experiences. I'm a lesbian and so my characters tend to be lesbians, tend to see the world through pink-white-orange lenses, even if they don't have the language we have now in 2024.

Finally, after all these years of watching and listening and observing, I can show off my non-exhaustive list of inspirations and influences for On Sundays, She Picked Flowers. Likely, there will be more— I still have plans for showing off the three playlists I made— but for now, there are these movies, videos, books and a few articles that have informed the novel.

[jacobgraphy]

[faetima]

𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐚 . .

. . judging by how many times you fell for him, you probably had amnesia.

// tws ; blood !! slight swearing ; gn reader ; modern & high school au, hanahaki au 

a/n: amnesia by boynextdoor is so good i love it sm i want to inject it into my veins

he was so ethereal, whether he was happy, sad, or pissed as fuck.

even as his face curled up into an ugly scowl or fell in despair or suddenly brightened with a subtle and soft smile, you couldn’t but find him absolutely gorgeous.

maybe that was why you were laying here on the ground now, pitifully hacking up pungent and bitter blue hydrangeas.

it was almost funny how the color of them were almost the same as sunday’s hair, just a little more blue than it.

it was also almost amusing how accurately they symbolized his response if you were to tell him your feelings; rejection.

your feelings were concealed within the hydrangeas too — regret and despair.

you sobbed as you heaved up the stupid blue flowers. they flopped onto the once clean floor ungracefully, leaving a trail of blood and mucus, of heartbreak and hopelessness.

maybe it would’ve been better if you had never laid your eyes on sunday in the first place.

—

as you saw sunday in school the next day, you felt yourself toppling head over heels for him all over again.

at this point you might as well have amnesia with how many times you’ve felt yourself falling in love with him again.

every time you saw his stupidly perfect face, his pretty wings, his fluffy grey-blue hair, you dug your grave deeper than it already was.

why did sunday have to be so fucking perfect, so fucking pretty, and so, so sweet?

—

it was dumb falling for someone you had barley talked to.

maybe if you pushed your shyness and anxiety aside you could’ve talked to him.

maybe you could’ve been acquaintances.

friends.

maybe even lovers.

but, alas, that was never going to happen.

you hated yourself so much — why couldn’t you just fucking talk to him? what the hell was wrong with you?

you sobbed, coughing out more of those wretched blue hydrangeas.

—

you were going to get the surgery.

it was useless dying over someone who didn’t even know you.

you could live without knowing him.

now you would get amnesia for real.

—

you woke up blearily, blinded by the extremely bright fluorescent lights of the hospital.

you did it.

you finally got the surgery.

you couldn’t remember what you got it done for, though.

—

after recovering, your parents saw fit for you to go back to school again.

you sat in your english class, waiting for your peers to fill up the empty room.

you watched people file in, chatter filling the room, bouncing off the walls.

and then you saw a face.

an extremely pretty face, paired with almost piercing yellow eyes and hair that reminded you of blue hydrangeas.

suddenly you started coughing. you brought your elbow to your mouth, muffling your coughs.

pulling away your face, a single blue petal drifted down to the ground, a little bit in front of you.

and then it was crushed by none other than sunday.

[happyheidi]