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writers-potion · 3 months

Text

Plant Symbolisms 🌱🌿🪴

Flora have a special corner in literature.

Starting from the Greco-Roman period when certain plants were representative of gods (like olive trees for Athena), plants have meant more than just a source of food or pleasure.

Lotus - Symbol of creation, rebirth, and the sun. The blue lotus represents spiritual enlightenment, while the white lotus symbolizes purity.

Papyrus - Represents prosperity, growth, and regeneration, often associated with the Nile River and the goddess Isis.

Mandrake - Associated with love, fertility, and aphrodisiac properties.

Poppy - Symbol of sleep, healing, and regeneration, often associated with the god of sleep, Hypnos.

Rose - Represents love, beauty, and the goddess Aphrodite.

Jasmine - Symbol of sensuality, love, and spiritual growth.

Palm - Represents victory, triumph, and eternal life, often associated with the god Osiris.

Acacia - Symbolizes resurrection and the afterlife, linked to the god Osiris and the Tree of Life.

Cornflower - Represents fertility, abundance, and regeneration.

Anemone - Symbol of protection, healing, and renewal.

Anemone, garden: Forsaken.

Almond, flowering: Hope.

Balm: Sympathy.

Bamboo: The emblem of Buddha. The seven-knotted bamboo denotes the seven degrees of initiation and invocation in Buddhism.

Bay leaf: I change but in death.

Bell flower, white: Gratitude.

Bluebell: Constancy.

Broken flower: A life terminated, mortality.

Buttercup: Cheerfulness.

Calla lily: Symbolises marriage.

Campanula: Gratitude.

Carnation, red: Beauty always new

Chrysanthemum: I love.

Clover, white: Think of me.

Clover, four-leaved: Be mine.

Cinquefoil: maternal affection, beloved daughter.

Convolvulus, major: Extinguished hopes or eternal sleep.

Coreopsis, Arkansa: Love at first sight.

Crocus: Youthful gladness.

Cuckoo Pint: Ardour.

Cypress tree: Designates hope.

Daffodil: Death of youth, desire, art, grace, beauty, deep regard.

Daisy: Innocence of child, Jesus the Infant, youth, the Son righteousness, gentleness, purity of thought.

Daisy, garden: I share your sentiment.

Dead leaves: Sadness, melancholy.

Dogwood: Christianity, divine sacrifice, triumph of eternal life, resurrection.

Fern: Sincerity, sorrow.

Figs, Pineapples: Prosperity, eternal life.

Fleur-de-lis: Flame, passion, ardour, mother.

Flower: frailty of life.

Forget-me-not: Remembrance / true love.

Furze or Gorse: Enduring affection.

Grapes: represent Christ.

Grapes and leaves: Christian faith.

Harebell: Grief.

Hawthorn: Hope, merriness, springtime.

Heartsease or Pansy: I am always thinking of you.

Holly: Foresight.

Honeysuckle: Bonds of love, generosity and devoted affection.

Honesty: Sincerity.

Ivy: Memory, immortality, friendship, fidelity, faithfulness, undying affection, eternal life, marriage.

Jonquil: “I hope for a return of affection.”

Lalla: Beauty, marriage.

Laurel leaves: Special achievement, distinction, success, triumph.

Marigold: Grief or despair.

Morning glory: Resurrection, mourning, youth, farewell, brevity of life, departure, mortality.

Mystic rose: Mother.

*some of these flower symbols have Greek or Roman origins but were also used in ancient Egyptian culture.

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🖱️References

https://www.proflowers.com/blog/plant-symbolism-guide

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/396668679699365428/

https://lilysflorist.com/blog/the-symbolism-of-flowers-in-literature-and-poetry-a-look-at-the-hidden-meanings-of-blooms-in-classic-texts/#:~:text=Rose%20%2D%20Represents%20love%2C%20beauty%2C,and%20the%20Tree%20of%20Life.

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scriptflorist · 2 years

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What flower would be associated with forbidden, painful love? Like the obsessive crush of an older sister for her brother, and that she feels envy and sadism towards his potential romantic interests.

Hi subyss-chan,

That’s a question well within the realms of flower language and very much something tumblr likes to argue about for entirely different reasons. Anyone who has made it this far in the ask, please don’t argue on this post. The subject of forbidden, painful, even obsessive love is nothing this type of relationship has a monopoly on, and the following list will be able to help many more stories than just this one.

acacia – secret love, platonic love, friendship

acalia – temperance

achillea millefolium – war

alstroemeria – security

almond (blossom) – indiscretion

almond (flowering) – hope

almond (laurel) – perfidy

anemone – forsaken, frailty

anthericum – antidote

apocynum – deceit

apple – temptation

arum (fly-catching) – snare

asphodel – my regrets follow you to the grave

azalea – temperance, romance, fragile and ephemeral passion, take care, fragile, passion

balsam of peru – cure

basil – hatred

belvedere – I declare against you

berberry – sharpness of temper, sourness of temper, sharpness, sourness, petulance

bilberry – treachery

bindweed (great) – insinuation, importunity

bird cherry – perfidy, hope

bittersweet nightshade – truth

bittersweet – truth

blackberry – envy

bladder nut tree – frivolous amusement, frivolity, amusement

bramble – lowliness, envy, remorse

cacalia – adulation

carnation – alas! for my poor heart, pride, disdain

carnation (red) – my heart breaks, my heart aches for you, admiration

catchfly – snare

catchfly (red) – youthful love, I fall victim

chrysanthemum (red) – I love.

chrysanthemum (white) – truth

chrysanthemum (yellow) – a heart left to desolation, slighted love

clover (four-leaf) – be mine

convolvulus – bonds, uncertainty

convolvulus (major) – extinguished hopes

cranberry – cure for (the) heartache, hardiness

daphane (winter) – I would not have you otherwise

goat’s rue – reason

hair moss – secret

heart’s ease (purple) – secret

heather (lavender) – admiration, solitude

hellebore – scandal, calumny

hemlock – you will be my death

honeyflower – speak low if you speak love, love sweet and secret, sweet, secret love, generous affection, sweetness of disposition

honeysuckle (coral) – the colour of my fate

honeysuckle (wild) – generous and devoted

ice plant – your looks freeze me, rejected addresses, frigidity

ivy (tendril and bouquet) – “may I”, “I desire”

jasmine (indian) – I attach myself to you, attachment, separation

jonquil – I desire a return of affection, desire, affection returned, love me, sympathy

laurel (common flower) – perfidy

lily of the valley – the heart withering in secret, return of happiness, modesty, tears of the virgin Mary, happiness, humility

lint – I feel my obligations

liquorice (wild) – I declare against you

lobelia – malevolence, arrogance

love-lies-bleeding – hopeless (but) not heartless, deserted love, desertion

lungwort – you are my life

marigold (french) – jealousy

mezereon – desire to please, coquetry

milfoil – war

milk vetch – your presence softens my pains

motherwort – concealed love, secret love

myrobalan – privation, bereavement

narcissus (false) – delusive hope

nettle – you are spiteful., cruelty, slander

nightshade – dark thoughts, truth, falsehood, scepticism

peach blossom – I am your captive

pear – affection

pine (spruce) – hope in adversity, farewell!

pink (yellow) – unreasonableness, disdain

polyanthus (crimson) – the heart’s mystery

potentilla – I claim at least your esteem

pride of china – dissension

quince – temptation

reed (split) – indiscretion

rocket – rivalry

rose (campion) – only deserve my love

rose (carolina) – love is dangerous

rose daily/rosa quotidians – thy smile I aspire to

rose (maiden blush) – if you love me/it you will find it out

rose (moss) – confession of love, pleasure without alloy, superior merit, voluptuous love

rue (wild) – manners, morals

shepherd’s purse – I offer you my all.

siphocampylus – resolved to be noticed.

spindle tree – your charms are engraven on my heart

spurge laurel – desire to please, coquetry

sunflower (dwarf) – your devout adorer, adoration

swallow-wort – cure for (the) heartache

thistle (scotch) – retaliation

tiger-flower – for once may pride befriend me, cruelty

tuberose – dangerous love, dangerous pleasures, voluptuousness, le plus loin le plus cher

tulip (yellow) – hopeless love

tussilage (sweet-scented) – justice shall be done you

venus flytrap – deceit, caught at last

– Mod Jana

Disclaimer

This blog is intended as writing advice only. This blog and its mods are not responsible for accidents, injuries or other consequences of using this advice for real world situations or in any way that said advice was not intended.

#incest tw #incest cw #flower language #writing advice #victorian flower language #forbidden love #painful love #obsessive love #feelings of love #romantic love #mod jana #ask answered

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o5-the-daughter · 2 years

Note

Four, any ideas for what flower anon is going for?

I'm rather sure that I didn't see all of the flowers that were sent, but, as The Progeny has pointed out, it's the combination that matters, so I will try to piece things together based on what I recall. I also believe there may be some significance in the pacing/timing of the flowers, though that's likely a stretch.

From what I remember, Experimenter was first sent a larger amount within a relatively short time, including black roses, a poison I sadly don't recall the name of, carnations, yellow roses and yellow begonias. These stand for mourning, misanthropy, from what another anon said, disappointment, and both of the latter mean friendship. From the order, they may symbolize the receiver's circumstances getting better over time, as something of a 'rebuilding their life' situation.

Another that stood out to me was the convolvulus, or bindweed, sent not too long ago to both GS011's Six and our Eight. It generally stands for a bond of some sort, with the meaning possibly being pulled into a romantic direction with the armband placement? It might be something related to the shipping topic some of you anons like to talk about, though that could easily be me reading too much into the placement.

While the combination of hemlock and dogwood could be interpreted negatively, as hemlock is one of the most famous poisonous plants and dogwood is.. well, Eight's callsign, the meaning is otherwise overwhelmingly positive if the latter flower is taken at face value; protection, rebirth, and hope. It could, again, play into the rebuilding 'trope' I assume of the first few put together, though it's a bit unlikely with the spacing between the incidents. This one might be a bit of a 'take it however you like' situation.

As for the asclepias yesterday.. it could be, as Mx. Gallagher and Progeny said, a suggestion for Experimenter to reconnect with someone or something from their past. Though, I'm somewhat tempted to lean more towards the flower's meaning as remembrance and 'let me go'; a person named Mathieu was brought up earlier yesterday, as a deceased person from Experimenter's past in some sense. Considering they showed little interest in this person, the flower could mean that they are, or have, let go of their attachment to this aspect of their life while keeping it in memory for one reason or another. The flower is given to new Overseers in our reality with a similar sentiment.

In the end, all we can do is speculate, I fear. From what they have shown so far, Flower Anon seems to be unlikely to explain their intentions anytime soon. What is happening is rather interesting, though - at least from an outside perspective. I doubt that being in this situation is very nice, so my best wishes to Experimenter.

#a questioning mind #change of seasons #[mod's note taking is paying off aksksksks /lh /pos]

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waitineedaname · 3 years

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Benrey knew about bouquets theoretically.

They were what the winners got in some sports games, and they were bought by sitcom boyfriends when they’d fucked up with their girlfriends. They were bundles of flowers that held some kind of meaning that was really beyond Benrey.

The thing was, he never saw one in person until months after they’d all made it out of Black Mesa. They were all at the Boomer household, throwing them an anniversary party. No one was quite sure if it was their one year anniversary or fiftieth anniversary -- neither of them would give anyone a clear answer -- but Bubby had presented his husband with an enormous bouquet of flowers, trying and failing to appear like anything but a sappy fool.

Benrey was fascinated by it.

Xen didn’t have flowers. There were plant-adjacent things, sure, but most of them tried to stab passersby or emitted poisonous gasses. Benrey was sitting on a barstool next to the bouquet in its vase on the countertop, and he had yet to be stabbed by the dethorned roses, and the sprigs of lavender didn’t emit anything except a soothing scent that reminded him of the hand lotion Gordon wouldn’t let him eat. He gently ran his fingers over the layers of carnation petals while Coomer spoke beside him.

“-language of flowers was introduced to England in the early 18th century by Mary Wortley, Lady Montague, whose husband was Ambassador to Turkey. By the Victorian era, almost every-”

“Flowers have a language?” Benrey said, looking up and zoning back into the Wikipedia infodump.

“Yes!” Dr. Coomer informed him brightly. “Floriography (language of flowers) is a means of cryptological communication through the use or arrangement of flowers. Meaning has been attributed to flowers for thousands of years, and some form of floriography has been practiced in traditional cultures throughout Europe, Asia, and Africa. In Western culture, William Shakespeare ascribed emblematic meanings to flowers, especially in Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Similarly, in a scene in his Henry VI, Part 1, English noblemen pick either red or white roses to symbolize their allegiance to the Houses-”

“So different colors have different meanings? Like, uh. Like Sweet Voice?”

“Yeah!” Tommy answered him this time, Dr. Coomer too busy telling the rest of them about Victorian flower meanings. “And- And each kind of flower has a different meaning too. It’s like a whole language!”

Benrey stared at the bundle of flowers in front of him. He sang out a Sweet Voice note the exact shade of one of the scabiosas and smiled.

He didn’t tell anyone his plan when he started. Something told him that would ruin it somehow. It felt more meaningful to have it be a surprise. He did his research in private. Wikipedia may be gone, but there were still plenty of websites eager to inform him of all the strange meanings Victorians applied to flowers. (What the hell was “assiduous to please” supposed to mean?) He stayed up after Tommy and Gordon had gone to bed, and sang notes of Sweet Voice as softly as he could, searching for the right correlations between flowers and Sweet Voice colors.

A bouquet arrived on Bubby and Coomer’s doorstep first. Cheerful American starworts and chrysanthemums wrapped in convolvulus, accompanied by sprigs of larch and black poplar. (White like sagebud to misty golden, you’re a bold one. Morning glory, I’m glad you got through this story. Black poplar to yellow larch, I’ll follow where you charge.) Bubby was wildly confused by its appearance, but the next time he saw them, Coomer took Benrey under his arm and gave him a noogie that would’ve drilled a hole into anyone else’s skull.

Gordon and Tommy’s came next, and Benrey made sure they arrived at the same time. Gordon was the one to find them, having opened the door to two bouquets addressed to the two of them. “Uh, Tommy?” He called out over his shoulder, picking up his bouquet and examining it. Bright Peruvian heliotropes peered out from between hundred-leaved roses and pencil-leaved geraniums, all surrounded by southernwood and Irish ivy. (Purple as heliotrope, you give me hope. Geranium to rosy pink, I’ll love you forever, I think. Green as ivy and southernwood, for you, I’ll be good.) “Do you know anything about this?”

“No,” Tommy said, walking up behind him and peering over his shoulder. When Gordon stepped aside for him, he scooped up his bouquet too. His was entirely made of flowers, a bright splash of color: the warm colors of the red periwinkles and scarlet lychnis offset by the American cowslips and traveller’s joys. (Scarlet, with you, my worries I forget. Purple like cowslip, I think you’re smart as a whip. White, you make my life bright.) “Benrey, do you- did you do this?”

“Nah, man.” Benrey shrugged, hands in his pockets. “Y’all must have, uh. Some kinda secret admirer, or something.”

Tommy stared at him for a long moment, and Benrey could swear he saw the wheels turning in Tommy’s head, but if he was going to say anything, he was distracted by Gordon ushering them into the kitchen to find vases.

He was hunched over his laptop that night again, trying to figure out if he could feasibly make a tiny arrangement of sorrel, bearded crepis, and juniper to put on Joshua’s bedside table (Green to juniper blue, I’ll protect you. Yellow, I’m proud of this tiny fellow) without Gordon accusing him for bringing weeds in the house, when a voice broke the relative silence of the living room.

“Ben?” Gordon said groggily. Benrey jumped in his seat and sang out a string of surprised teal. “You’ve been coming to bed late like every night this week, what’s up.”

“Uh, nothing. Just… browsing. Making deals on… eBay.” Benrey bluffed. Gordon squinted at him, clearly not believing the lie, then glanced at the laptop screen.

“Are those flowers?”

“...What are flowers.”

Gordon snorted and draped himself over the back of the couch. “I fucking knew it. You’re not sneaky, dude.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What are flowers.”

Gordon flicked the side of his head. “Why were you keeping the bouquet thing a secret?”

“I dunno.” Benrey looked away, embarrassed. “Thought it’d be a fun surprise.”

Gordon chuckled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I never expected you to be the sentimental type.”

“Didja like them, though?” Benrey looked up, hopeful.

“Obviously. I put them on the kitchen table, they’re beautiful.” Gordon straightened up and reached for Benrey’s hands. “Now c’mon, Gordon want cuddles.”

“Gordon want cuddles? Cuddles from Benrey?” Benrey teased, taking Gordon’s hands and standing. “What about Tommy?”

“Tommy also want cuddles. He’s the one who told me to go get you.” Gordon said, pulling him up the stairs to their room. “Also, he figured out the flower meanings. Why the hell is there a plant for bantering?”

“The Victorias knew banter is important to any relationship, man. It’s like you don’t even understand enemies-to-lovers, smh.”

“Stop saying abbreviations out loud.” Gordon laughed, shoving him into bed, where Tommy sleepily grabbed him.

The following afternoon, Benrey found a vase of roses addressed to him, alongside several seed packets.

#hlvrai #frenreylatta #benrey #I'm not gonna tag the others bc they're barely in it but they're all there #my writing #okay to reblog #I wrote this in a rush today because the idea would not leave me alone!!!!!#shoutout to people who regularly come up with sweet voice rhymes bc that was HARD #most of these are a stretch but I wanted to make them work with the flowers #the flower meanings come from a flower language book I have and the meanings are as follows:#american starworts: cheerfulness in old age #chrysanthemum: cheerfulness under adversity #convolvulus: bonds #larch: boldness #black poplar: courage #peruvian heliotropes: devotion #hundred-leaved roses: dignity of mind #pencil-leaved geraniums: genius #southernwood: banter #irish ivy: clinging affection #red periwinkles: early friendship #scarlet lychnis: sunbeaming eyes #american cowslip: divine beauty #traveller's joy: safety #sorrel: parental affection #bearded crepis: protection #juniper: protection #I did not proofread this whatsoever hope y'all like it

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literallyjusttoa · 2 years

Text

7 Flowers for each Riordanverse character based on flower language.

Strap in, this is gonna be a long one.

Percy Jackson:

Apple Blossom: Preference. Fate speaks him great and good

Blue-Flowered Greek Valerian: Rupture

Camomile: Energy in Adversity

Hawkweed: Quick-Sightedness

Larch: Audacity. Boldness

Mistletoe: I Surmount Difficulties

Southernwood: Jest, Bantering

Annabeth Chase:

Azalea: Temperance

Canterbury Bell: Acknowledgement

Cloves: Dignity

Hundred-Leaved Rose: Pride

Indian Lagerstroemia: Eloquence

Red Catchfly: Youthful love

Walnut: Intellect, Stratagem

Grover Underwood:

Bearded Crepis: Protection

Bluebell: Constancy

Cactus: Warmth

Convolvulus: Bonds

Larkspur: Lightness, Levity

Magnolia: Love of Nature

Water Lily: Purity of Heart

Jason Grace:

Blue Violet: Faithfulness

Broom: Humility. Neatness

Fennel: Worthy all praise, Strength

Garden Marigold: Uneasiness

Mint: Virtue

Sycamore: Curiosity

Woodbine: Fraternal Love

Leo Valdez:

Chinese Chrysanthemum: Cheerfulness under Adversity

Fern: Fascination

Fleur-de-lis: Flame. I Burn

Penciled Geranium: Ingenuity

Peppermint: Warmth of Feeling

Thyme: Activity

Yellow Balsam: Impatience

Piper McLean:

Acalia: Temperance

Amaryllis: Pride, Timidity, Splendid beauty

Cabbage Rose: Ambassador of Love

Coreopsis Arkansa: Love at first sight

Holly: Foresight

White Dittany of Crete: Passion

White Mullein: Good Nature

Frank Zhang:

Canary Grass: Perseverance

Christmas Rose: Relieve my Anxiety

Coriander: Hidden worth

French Willow: Bravery and Humanity

Milfoil: War

Small White Bell Flower: Gratitude

Sweet Violet: Modesty

Hazel Levesque:

Aconite-leaved Crowfoot: Luster

Balm of Gilead: Cure. Relief

Flowering Almond: Hope

Holly Herb: Enchantment

Lote Tree: Concord

Lucerne: Life

Sweet Basil: Good Wishes

Reyna Ramirez-Arellano:

Ash-leaved Trumpet Flower: Separation

Barberry Tree: Sharpness

Branch of Thorns: Severity. Rigor

Goat’s Rue: Reason

Quamoclit: Busybody

Striped Carnation: Refusal

White Oak: Independence

Nico di Angelo:

Amethyst: Admiration

Lavender: Distrust

Milkwort: Hermitage

Oleander: Beware

Red Balsam: Touch me not. Impatient resolves

Weeping Willow: Mourning

Yellow Acacia: Secret Love

Rachel Dare:

Auricula: Painting

Beech Tree: Prosperity

Dandelion: Rustic Oracle

Gooseberry: Anticipation

Purple Clover: Provident

Ragged Robin: Wit

Scotch Fir: Elevation

Chiron:

American Starwort: Welcome to a stranger. Cheerfulness in old age

Buckbean: Calm repose

Flowering Reed: Confidence in Heaven

Goldenrod: Precaution

Marsh Mallow: Beneficence

Olive: Peace

Rhubarb: Advice

Apollo:

Before ToA

Bundle of Reeds with their Panacles: Music

Glory Flower: Glorious Beauty

Love Lies Bleeding: Hopeless, not Heartless

Nightshade: Truth

Prophetic Marigold: Prediction

Scarlet Poppy: Fantastic Extravagance

Sweetbrier: Poetry, I wound to heal

After ToA:

Agrimony: Thankfulness. Gratitude

Everlasting: Never-Ceasing Remembrance

Flos Adonis: Painful Recollections

Lotus Leaf: Recantation

Moschatel: Weakness

Scarlet Lychnis: Sunbeaming Eyes

Small Bindweed: Humility

Meg McCaffrey:

Borage: Bluntness

Burdock: Importunity, Touch me not.

Dogwood: Durability

Mouse-Eared Chickweed: Ingenious Simplicity

Mushroom: Suspicion

Oak-Leaved Geranium: True Friendship

Thornless Rose: Early Attachment

Luke Castellan:

Aloe: Grief, Religious superstition, Affection

Begonia: Beware

Belvedere: I declare against you

Dark Geranium: Melancholy

Quaking Grass: Agitation

Raspberry: Remorse

Thorn Apple: Deceitful Charms

Octavian:

Abatina: Fickleness

Buttercup: Ingratitude. Childishness

Citron: Ill-Natured Beauty

Dahlia: Instability

Madder: Calumny

Tall Sunflower: Haughtiness

Wild Geranium: Steadfast Piety

Calypso:

Cornel Tree: Duration

Crowsbill: Envy

Garden Anemone: Forsaken

Lotus Flower: Estranged Love

Vervain: Enchantment

White Camellia Japonica: Perfected Loveliness

White Clover: Think of me

Thalia Grace:

Arbor Vitae: Unchanging friendship. Live for me

Checkered Fritillary: Persecution

Elder: Zealousness

Purple Columbine: Resolve to win

Sainfoin: Agitation

Yellow Carnation: Disdain

Zephyr flower: Sickness, Expectation

Will Solace:

Allspice: Compassion

Ambrosia: Love returned

Cowslip: Pensiveness. Winning Grace

Honeysuckle: Generous and Devoted Affection

Oak Tree: Hospitality

Spearmint: Warmth of Sentiment

Wild Grape: Charity

Lityerses:

Bay Leaf: I change but in death

Birdsfoot Trefoil: Revenge

Box Tree: Stoicism

Columbine: Folly

Hazel: Reconciliation

Mountain Laurel: Ambition

Tremella Nestoc: Resistance

Nero:

Beech Orchis: Industry

Cabbage: Profit

Passion Flower: Religious Superstition

Pidgeon’s Berry: Indifference

Polyanthus: Pride of Riches

Scarlet Auricula: Avarice

Wolfsbane: Misanthropy

Commodus:

American Cowslip: Divine beauty

Centaury Bluebottle: Delicacy

Chestnut Tree: Do me Justice, Luxury

Crown Imperial: Majesty, Power

Hydrangea: A Boaster. Heartless

Laurel: Glory

Narcissus: Egotism

Caligula:

Agnus Castus: Coldness, Indifference

Bilberry: Treachery

Hop: Injustice

Lobelia: Malevolence

Parsley: Festivity

Purple Larkspur: Haughtiness

Rue: Disdain

#pjo #hoo #toa #riordanverse #flowers #I POSTED THIS BEFORE IT WAS READY #I WASN'T DONE #FUCK #anyways #long post #sunny speaks #Apollo gets two cuz I love him

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cannedcrow · 2 years

Text

‘Flower Frost’ - An Empires SMP/Flower Husbands fanfic: Part X, Convolvulus

Flower Frost: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX

Please reblog if you enjoy! :)

Convolvulus (Major): Bonds of affection, even with extinguished hopes.

Gem lay curled in her bed, a small figure shrouded in layers of silk, wool, and fur - the futile nest of warmth that’d been her home for days now. Weak winter sunlight streamed through the lilac glass of her window, dappling the room with indifferent light while the honeysuckle that climbed the walls and peeked through the window showed the true state of affairs, its limp petals dull and rimmed with frost, yellow heads drooping in mourning.

The frozen channels of her wound had spread quickly, snaking like veins of ore through rock, and the warm copper of her hair had succumbed to the slight of silver-white, like so many strands of frost haloing her. If she looked in a mirror, she could see her own heart through the clear, glassy ice, the purity stained with her own blood like ink in water, motion perpetually frozen. And still the wound spread, always reaching out more spiderweb cracks that widened into ice-soldered ravines in her flesh until one by one she lost the use of her limbs to the ice that made her very veins feel iron-wrought. It was only a matter of time until it killed her, she knew, and she couldn’t help looking forward to it, for it was as though she’d been run through with knives, so cold that they burned like an iron brand - one that never cooled.

Fwhip sat by her bedside day after day, often joined by Sausage, only leaving to take care of affairs in his own kingdom. He read to her, talked to her, while Gandalf curled on her bed, the little ash-silver cat evidently aware that his mistress needed his warmth.

It almost hurt Gem more to watch Fwhip crumble as the ingravescence of her affliction became clearer, and indeed he did wear away. To see his sister lying there, frail and delicate as an injured sparrow, was agonising. The shallow breaths that clouded the air, the hateful mass of silver hair that seemed like a malignant vine intent on choking her, the skin as pale and bloodless as a corpse - every detail was a knife to his heart.

Her suffering was his, and it grew and mutated into fury. This was Scott’s fault. Scott had done this to Gem and abandoned her to die. I’ll kill him, he thought venomously, the promise of violent retribution the only thing keeping him sane.

If Gem dies, I’ll burn you alive and put your entire damned Empire to the torch.

A nightingale began to sing from somewhere outside.

Days went by before Jimmy noticed the dusk-purple that began to gradate his hands. This is the beginning of the end, then, he thought, examining his numbing fingertips, the first hesitant signs of frostbite. He was so cold, trapped constantly in a cage of ice that was undeterred by fire or heat, and as close as he’d sit to the fire, as tightly as he may wrap himself in blankets, he could not get warm.

For all this though, Jimmy would’ve been happy to die there. The circumstances that’d brought them there were dark, but he’d been happy.

Scott held Jimmy's hand gently in his own, staring at his discoloured fingertips in horror. Both had known the severity of the Winter Plague, and both had seen their people die one by one at its hands. But to see the sickness slowly creeping over Jimmy like frost on petals was a confirmation, the tightening of a noose around his throat. Scott had enfolded him in a wordless embrace, clinging onto him as tightly as though it were himself dying, and Jimmy had felt the cold tears dampen his shoulder, the subtle tremble of Scott's own shoulders.

It was over their usual habit of sitting by the fireside in the evening that Scott broached the thoughts that'd consumed his attention for so long.

"Do you think we should go back to the empires?" He said slowly, measuring his words.

Jimmy looked to him, knowing then that they'd reached the same conclusion already. "I think we have to," he said, thinking of Lizzie, of his other friends, of his people. "I guess that's what I came here to do, anyhow. But what about your uh ... Angel-of-Death thing?" The corner of his mouth twitched up.

"I don't mean to return to our normal life, but I think we should be closer to our people and the Empires,” Scott declared, “We could live in my manor in Rivendell; that way we'll be able to keep eyes on goings-on without making contact. It might even be worth sneaking in - the servants won't be working in the house without me there, and if no one knew we'd come back, we could avoid any problems."

Jimmy nodded, "Hunkering and trying to cure the Winter Plague. Sounds like a plan!”

And so it was settled, and they made plans to return to the Empires. It was no difficultly to gather their few belongings into shulkers, and from his ever-generous ender chest, Scott produced not only a spare elytra but a lodestone compass that pointed to Rivendell. It was a small but beautifully made affair framed in gold filigree, with a slim chain allowing it to be worn as a necklace.

“It took us both a while to get here because we didn’t know where we were going, but as the crow flies, it shouldn’t take too long to get home,” Scott determined.

There was no particular reason to clear out the little house, and they chose instead to leave most of it to the elements. The two armchairs would face the empty fireplace for years, perhaps. Mice would nest in the cushions, snow would powder the floor, and brave weeds would push between the rotting floorboards.

Their last night, they braved the outside to sit on the partial roof of the cabin that’d served them so faithfully.

Above the clawing branches of the trees, the sky was a star-scattered abyss, a carelessly broken pearl necklace on a sea of black velvet. Courtesy of the full moon, the snowflakes glowed with moonlight until they rivalled even their celestial cousins, and the sky was silent but for the occasional mourning of an owl. Jimmy was wrapped in Scott’s storm-blue cloak, the pale fur soft against his neck. Warmth of any sort did little for him, but the cold was more uncomfortable for him than Scott, who sat in only his usual clothes - a deep cyan shirt of thin wool, the collar embroidered subtly with gold, and his customary trousers and boots. Moonlight glittered on the frost in his hair and wings, giving him an ethereal look - a composition of stars, watching wistfully his fellows in the night sky. How can anyone be so beautiful? He thought, entranced despite his firm self-admonishment for thinking of Scott as anything but his closest, dearest friend.

Scott tilted his head from the stars then, looking at Jimmy and smirking. His eyes glimmered with captured moonlight, and with mock flirtatiousness, he said, “Can’t keep your eyes off me, huh?”

Jimmy snorted, hoping to hide the flush of his face behind a matched tone of nonchalance. “You wish.”

Scott’s hand fluttered to his heart and with a tone of feigned injury, he said, “Are you saying you don’t find me irresistibly sexy and enchanting?”

A thought seemed to strike him then, and he held one hand in front of him, palm upward expectantly, the tips of those icy claws glinting. With the other he summoned a tiny flurry of snow that danced and melted together at his conduct, shaping itself into-

“A token of my esteem,” Scott declared proudly, displaying his creation. On his palm there sat a little ice statue about the size of a chess piece, depicting a leaping codfish on a spray of frozen water, a crown on its head. Jimmy took it in fascination, examining the intricacy and beauty of the figure.

“It’s beautiful!” He said excitedly, holding the piece up to view through the moonlight, “you’re getting good at being an ice demon!”

Scott flinched slightly, and Jimmy once again cursed his careless words. Unconfident in his ability to summon the right words, he threw himself towards Scott, hugging him tightly and murmuring consolingly into his shoulder, “I’m only teasing. You’re not a demon.”

When he pulled back, Scott looked surprised but flushed, and he felt the same warmth come to his own face as he grinned at him. Then Scott leant forward and kissed him.

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iownfish · 2 years

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17. Charlie Slimecicle and Convolvulus

These flowers represent bonds, the very thing that ties him to Big Q.

Find Slime and more at the kickstarter!

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/iownfish/flowers-from-the-smp-a-dsmp-enamel-pin-set

#fanart #slimecicle #charlie slimecicle #enamel pins #kickstarter #flowers from the smp: explained

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vifetoile · 3 years

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Some Obscure Floriography

For my own reasons* I compiled a list of flower meanings that turned out to be rather obscure. The sources have vanished so thoroughly even I didn't record them, but I thought, what the heck, someone else will probably find this interesting. Other people are interested in flower meanings besides just "Rose for love, daisy for innocence"

Anemone: Forsaken, Illness, Withered hopes

Bachelor’s Button: Hope; Happy celibacy

Bellflower: A Foe is Near

Canterbury Bells: Gratitude

Christmas Rose: Relieve my anxiety (as seen in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall); Wit; A Beautiful Year Ahead

Chrysanthemum: Truth

Clover: Industry

Convolvulus: Dead hopes, Extinguished hopes, Uncertainty, Bonds, Love in vain

Columbine: Anxiety

Day Lily: Coquetry

Evening Primrose: Inconstancy

Hollyhock: Female ambition; Generosity; Fecundity

House-leek: Domestic economy;

Jonquil: Desire; Return my affection (you’re welcome, writers of The Glass Menagerie essays)

Lily of the Valley: Return of happiness; also Humiliation; Let’s make up

Mint: Suspicion

Monkshood: Deceit, a Foe is near; Chivalry, Knight-errantry

Nightshade: Dark thoughts, Bitter truth, Sorcery

Ox’s Eye: Patience

Pennyroyal (a mint): Flee away

Peony: Shame; A Good Life, Prosperity

Rosemary: Remembrance; also Your presence revives me

Sage: Esteem

Sunflower: Respect, Haughtiness, Pure & lofty thoughts

Thyme: Activity, Courage, Bravery, Strength, Thrift

Venus Fly-trap: Caught at last; Deceit

Wild Rose: Secrecy, Silence

* I acquired a copy of The Harmonious Tarot, with illustrations by Walter Crane, a great Edwardian illustrator; unfortunately the woodcuts didn't always match the cards' own meaning, and I was trying to broaden my understanding

#flowers #floriography #flower language #my writings

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heartthrummed-a · 3 years

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@idoladne asked: “ you always meant the world to me . i’m sorry i let you forget that. ” to tatsumi (: (accepting)

It was supposed to be like any other visit. Just him, alone at Kaname’s grave with a small handful of pink convolvulus (the late idol’s favorite, with such a tender meaning for an invasive and poisonous species that they held so dear) and a lifetime of regrets. The former are placed at the headstone, the bunch bound together by a thin blue ribbon, while the latter are tearfully spilled out when he finally gives in under their weight― because Tatsumi is no Atlas, and he cannot support the weight of the sky on his shoulders alone, no matter how hard he tries. But he knows that, deep down, and that is why he saves the cracking and shattering of his facade (taken from Kaname just like their stage persona) for private moments, where none can see him, because even in his weakest moments when he needs help himself, he cannot bear to burden others.

But apparently he is not alone this time. Not as much as he might have hoped, anyway, for a voice speaks up and no matter how hard he sobs, he will never be able to miss or ignore that voice. It is too familiar, too cherished, and too sudden. So he looks up to Emiru with a fright, eyes wide and watery and pained, and he’s at a loss for words. Ah, but what had he said...? Tatsumi isn’t sure. As much as he latched onto the sound, he hadn’t registered any meaning, still too lost in those sorrows weighing heavy on his heart. Well, that and panic now, too― after all, to encounter Emiru here of all places, at the grave of the beloved cousin he took from him, is the last thing that he wants.

He supposes his luck had to run out eventually, though, with how often they must both visit this place. And aren’t they the only ones who do?

❝...I’m sorry.❞ It’s all he can think to say to Emiru, even as he turns his gaze back to the headstone before them and wishes he and Kaname could trade places, because they’re the one that deserves to be here, they’re the one that would be able to stand with their cousin in such terrible times and do for him what Tatsumi cannot. His voice cracks in the process, choking on another sob that he just barely restrains for the sake of trying to speak clearly. ❝I’m sorry I took away something so precious to you. Kaname was― they were so good, weren’t they? A light in this world, dear to you and me and everyone blessed enough to meet them, whether they realized it or not. And you two... You were close as brothers, were you not? You both always seemed like you were each other’s world, and others were simply privy to be a part of it.❞ Oh, and such a beautiful bond it had been― maybe at one point in the past, Tatsumi had even been ever so slightly jealous, not of the smile that Kaname could put on his beloved Emiru’s face but of a pure and wonderful family bond itself, the very thing he’d been craving until he realized, they were part of his family, the both of them, even if in different ways. To Tatsumi, anyway.

Which made it hurt that much more when Emiru left after Kaname’s death. And without even a proper goodbye! No, Tatsumi had to find out that HiMERU was still active, had to question what he thought he knew, and then see the man perform in person just to realize a dead man was not walking, but rather being impersonated by what he had to assume was his now ex-lover. And then he had to endure his scorn and contempt, delivered under a thin veil, all while Tatsumi faced it with an unwavering smile, because it is what they would have done.

And the sad part is, he never held it against Emiru, believed he deserved it even if it meant Tatsumi slowly began to dread their meetings as much as he looked forward to them. Though, as of late, there has a been a lull in the tension, a greater frequency in oddly tender moments that made his heart ache with memories of days long gone...

Now? Now it is simply time for the dam to break, apparently.

And yet... rather than facing further scorn, Tatsumi is met with words of consolation that only serve to make him release that sob and fall into a pair of arms he could almost swear were waiting for him.

You always meant the world to me. I’m sorry I let you forget that.

How terribly unfair of him to even drop the third person act, Tatsumi thinks, even as his own arms come to wrap around Emiru in kind.

❝Don’t― don’t be sorry. I... I deserved it, every bit of it,❞ he chokes out. It’s getting harder and harder to speak through the lump in his throat, and tears blur his vision so much he can barely make anything out anymore, but still he holds onto Emiru, like he’s terrified he’ll be gone when he lets go and he’ll just find out this was all nothing but a terrible, mindless dream. (And really, that’s exactly what he’s terrified of)

❝I just― I’ve missed you so much, Emiru. More than I can say. And I’m... I’m so sorry. I started this path, dragged the both of you along with me, and... God, I’m so sorry, Emiru. From the bottom of my heart. To do this to you, who I loved and still love so much, and to Kaname, who the world should have adored had I not dragged them through the mud... It is unspeakably terribly, isn’t it? So why would you be sorry?❞

Am I not the one who destroyed your world, even if I meant it to you?

#idoladne #❧ ｢ general ｣ ⸻ answered #❧ ｢ tatsumi kazehaya ｣ ⸻ ic #❧ ｢ ship ｣ ⸻ yellow lily ( tatsuhime / idoladne )#ask to tag //#this became messy after like two paragraphs but anyway #who ordered that tatsuhime pain with a large exes to lovers suffering #and a dash of found family ideas just for an extra kick in the gut bc i've decided violence w/ tatsumi and kaname's dynamic #SDFGHKHKFHJK

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askran-order · 6 years

Photo

“king’s spear” flower; regret. “asphodel” flower; death, my regrets will follow you to the grave. “volkamenia” flower; may you be happy. “agrimony” flower; gratitude. “convolvulus major” flower; extinguished hope, bonds. “anemone” flower; forsaken and forgotten, my sincerity, protection against evils.

“thank... you. now, leave me; i promise i’ll... be fine.” “i-i cannot do that-- you’re dying-- you have to reach askr, you’re--” “go. it is, not your place... i was never meant to live... this long, anyways.” “but--” “...if i am... truly this, ‘hero of prophecy’ you... s-speak of, then... just return for me, once this ends; but we... are being, t-tracked by soldiers, and i... cannot let any... other lives be lost.” “...i will come back for you, ijana. i swear upon this blood of mine. you’ve saved me too many times, and i have to repay that. i-i’m sorry...” “do not... apologize. please, forgive me, for... asking you to, erase m-my... memories.“ “you said so yourself, that... it was for the best. i’ll return. i’ll repay my debt. gods...” “thank you. i trust you to... keep your word, prince--”

“i remember… a colorful glass shard. or a sword? glowing, maybe. then i remember falling...? i do not know. a lot of light afterwards, and then… askr.”

#kiran #fire emblem heroes #ask-kiralfonse #a recollection of acacias and red carnations #ic #???#send asks :')#press f to pay respects for kiran

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kevinscottgardens · 2 years

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23 au 29 mai 2022

Monday through Wednesday was hectic. Monday morning the masons arrived and started working on the collapsing stone wall supporting the walkway. I found two Pistachia dug up and placed in my Gator. Why doesn’t anyone have conversations ? I then noticed that they covered another area the same size again that I had removed plants on Friday. They were going to squash them all under plastic. I said I would remove them and that all they need to do is ask. I also told them each plant costs 10€. I moved around another 40 plants. In the evening was a nice gathering at Denis and André’s for an early birthday dinner for André.

Tuesday I managed to lightly trim all the Pistachia in the prairie and lightly thin the Reseda lutea. I showed Thomas where the taps are and hopefully he’ll be watering for me while I’m away. It rained a little and we had lots of lighting and thunder Tuesday evening. I had a nice chat with Jody. The Iberis sempervirens I ordered finally arrived; they are tiny. I’m glad I went out Monday to purchase some nice big Limonium perezii for a pot that Laurie has been asking me to change for a few weeks.

I also bought a Convolvulus sabatius for another pot on the patio in dappled shade.

Wednesday I had to have a Covid test in the morning. Then I had my hair cut in the early afternoon then had an adjustment and a massage. Most of the Champagne flutes I bought from Ikea arrived, one box short. I’m going to see if things sort themselves out on this, I’m out of time.

Thursday very early I started my journey to LA for the first time in almost three years. British Airways, Economy Plus, via Heathrow, to LAX. Thankfully I’m still Silver so I can use the lounge during my layover. I was able to stop by Fortnum and Mason to buy a few gifts for Kerry and Sheryl, Yeah!

Friday the last box of Champagne flutes was delivered; I’m wondering where they are sitting. Sadly, Thomas’ mum died, I didn’t even know she was ill. Janet, Stacy and Piper arrived from Wisconsin. We enjoyed a good day of catching up. Saturday Kerry, Mike and Matthew drove down; Jeffrey was working at REI. Eric, Sofia, Heather, Kent and Megan all arrived around noon. Dianne and Ken hosted a really nice mini family gathering all afternoon. Janet and Heather had never met. That evening the Reilings took me back to San Gabriel.

Sunday Eric, Heather et al. met Kerry and me at Mt. Lowe Brewery, then they came over to Dad’s house for a barbecue in the evening. It was really nice to spend time with them. Heather and I have a bit of a bond. I hope we stay in touch now.

Plant of the week

Campanulaceae Campanula rapunculus L.

common name(s) - rampion bellflower, rampion, rover bellflower, rapunzel; français : campanule des haies; Deutsch : Rapunzel-Glockenblume; italiano : campanula commestibile, raponzolo infraspecific(s) - Campanula rapunculus subsp. lambertiana (A.DC.) Rech.f. synonym(s) - Campanula calycina Boeber ex Schult.; C. castellana Pau; C. coarctata Gilib.; C. decurrens Thore; C. elatior Link & Hoffmanns.; C. esculenta Salisb.; C. fastigiata S.G.Gmel.; C. glandulosa Banks ex A.DC.; C. patula var. rapunculus (L.) Kuntze; C. rapuncula St.-Lag.; C. rapunculus f. hirsutissima Faure; C. r. subsp. rapunculus; C. r. subsp. verruculosa (Hoffmanns. & Link) Nyman; C. r. subsp. verruculosa (Hoffmanns. & Link) P. Silva; C. r. var. bracteosa Willk.; C. r. var. calycina (Boeber ex Schult.) A.DC.; C. r. var. cymosospicata Willk.; C. r. var. hirsuta Schur; C. r. var. hirta Murr; C. r. var. micrantha Beyer; C. r. var. racemosopaniculata Willk.; C. r. var. reclinata Griseb.; C. r. var. strigulosa Batt.; C. r. var. verruculosa (Hoffmanns. & Link) Steud.; C. r. var. verruculosa (Hoffmanns. & Link) Vatke; C. verruculosa Hoffmanns. & Link; C. virgata A.DC.; Neocodon rapunculus (L.) Kolak. & Serdyuk.; Rapunculus verus Fourr. conservation rating - none native to - Europe to Mediterranean and Iran location - Domaine de l’Orangerie leaves - stem is erect, lightly hairy, branched on the top; basal leaves are petiolated, ovate, slightly toothed and arranged in a rosette, while the upper leaves are sessile and narrow lanceolate flowers - hermaphrodite; clustered in a racemose inflorescence, with a bell-shaped, light blue or violet corolla; are arranged along the stem in a fairly narrow one-sided facing cluster fruit - fruit is a dehiscent capsule in the form of inverted cone with many seeds habit - biennial, herbaceous, to 1m tall habitat - prefers limestone soils and grows in dry meadows, cultivated beds, forests of oaks and pine trees, along roadsides, from sea level to 1,500m pests - generally pest-free disease - generally disease-free hardiness - to -10ºC (H4) soil - sandy and loamy, moist and well-drained, neutral to basic (mildly alkaline) sun - full sun to part shade propagation - self-seeds; surface sow May/June in situ, usually germinates in two to four weeks at 18°C pruning - none nomenclature - Campanulaceae, Campanula - small bell, refers to the bell-shape of the flower; rapunculus - diminutive of the Latin rapa (turnip) and means little turnip, which refers to the shape of the root NB - once widely grown in Europe for its leaves, which were used like spinach, and its parsnip-like root, which was used like a radish; The Brothers Grimm's tale Rapunzel took its name from this plant

References :

Gledhill, David, (2008) “The Names of Plants”, fourth edition; Cambridge University Press; ISBN: 978-0-52168-553-5

IUCN [online] http://www.iucnredlist.org/search [22 May 22]

Plants for a Future [online] https://pfaf.org/user/plant.aspx?LatinName=Campanula+rapunculus [22 May 22]

Plants of the World [online] https://powo.science.kew.org/taxon/urn:lsid:ipni.org:names:140952-1 [22 May 22]

Wikipedia [online] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Campanula_rapunculus [22 May 22]

World Flora Online [online] http://www.worldfloraonline.org/taxon/wfo-0000828443 [22 May 22]

#Campanula rapunculus

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lokiarsene · 7 years

Note

Joker giving flowers that mean a lot of things and Akechi's reactions over the months, culminating with him seemingly coldly rejecting them close to the time he's supposed to kill Joker?

Title: How Hearts BloomRating: G

Also on AO3 if you prefer.

“You don’t mind my coming here so often, do you?” Goro asked, folding his hands one over the other as he hunched over the counter.

Akira scratched the back of his neck. “Not really. But that all depends.”

“On what?”

“On what you’re coming here for.”

Goro chewed on the inside of his cheek. “For the atmosphere,” he heard himself say. He heard himself laugh, too. Strange, that he could slip into autopilot with ease. It had to be because of him. “For the coffee, too. What else are cafes good for?”

“I dunno,” Akira said, scrubbing at the stainless counter. He avoided Goro’s eyes. “The company?”

Goro gave his heart until the count of ten to stop pounding so hard. “That’s true,” he said, pretending to give it some thought, pretending that his hopes weren’t leaping eagerly at the prospect that he was wanted here, of all places. “I wouldn’t mind coming back for all of those things–the atmosphere, the coffee… and you.”

Akira turned to look at him.

“If you aren’t too busy, of course,” Goro added, smiling. He felt his face stretch to accommodate the expression.

An awful lapse of silence passed. Then, just as Akira was about to answer, Goro’s phone began to buzz. He fished it out of his pocket–and his heart sank.

Of course his father would interrupt what would be the nicest conversation Goro had in practically his entire life. Of course. Goro had a stray dog’s luck, with none of the pity. “Excuse me, but I need to take this.”

“Take your time,” Akira said, waving him off.

When he came back to his seat, a single flower sat on the edge of Goro’s saucer. The bright, impossibly vivid purple petals were a stark contrast to the bone white china and the small brown blotch of spilled coffee.

“Excuse me?” Unease twisted in his belly like a knife. “I think there’s been some mistake.”

“There’s been no mistake,” Akira said. He spoke just the way he looked: dead-set and head on. Only his eyes were dark. His words were light, soft, evenly said– and so deceptive. It made Goro’s chest ache; each word he heard Akira speak smashed up against his heart like glass beneath a hammer.

Goro picked up the flower by its stem and examined it close. “What should I do with it?” he asked.

Akira shrugged, already turning away. “Keep it, if you want. Maybe it’ll cheer you up or give you something nice to think about for a while. I dunno. What else are flowers good for?”

Goro didn’t say anything. Then, “Where did you even get this?”

“At the shop.”

He frowned. “What, today?”

Akira nodded. “I work there every now and then, picking up hours here and there.” He paused before adding, in a lower, muted tone, “You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.”

“No.” Goro closed his hands around the flower, taking care not to crush the petals. It was so bright, so… brave, so bold it was almost garish. But that was only in its nature; the flower couldn’t help but be itself. “No, I’ll take it. I mean–thanks very much.” It wasn’t often he got a gift; he could count them on two fingers. His powers, and now… this.

Akira nodded again, his lips hitching up into a sideways smile. “Don’t mention it,” he said.

Later, after he had spent five minutes staring at the flower as it leaned up against the water in a little glass cup, Goro opened up a new tab in his browser and described the flower as best he could.

Aster, the search results said. Higher classification: astereae. Rank: genus. Did you know? Aster symbolizes patience, love, good luck, and daintiness. Also–“I will think on it.”

And now Goro had something new to think on, too.

The next flower, when it came weeks later, was no less vivid and bright than the first. It sat stemless inside of Goro’s empty coffee mug, its indigo bright blue petals fading inward to bone white, then daisy yellow at the center.

“You’ll take that to go?” Akira asked, and then, as if his smile weren’t bad enough, he actually winked.

Goro scr*d his teeth against the inside of his cheek just to have something else to feel. “If it’s no trouble,” he said before he lost his nerve.

“No trouble at all,” Akira reassured him. “It’s my pleasure.”

Convolvulus, the search results later said. Common name: morning glory. The Victorian meaning was love or mortality. Current meaning: bonds.

Goro’s heart pounded against his ribs like a hammer determined to turn bone into dust.

Weeks past. Despite his doubts and unease, Goro stopped by Leblanc’s almost every day, as often as he could spare as the summer marched forward in its dreadful, suffocating lurch. He barely felt the sun anymore; there was something oppressive and heavy about the light and the heat, and rainy days only seemed to smother him more.

Towards the middle of August, as he sat brooding quietly in Leblanc, Goro received both his cup of coffee and a plate full of flowers. He recognized these flowers well enough; red and white roses were arranged in halos around the plate. In the center sat a blue hyacinth as large as Goro’s fist.

“You’re lucky I don’t have allergies,” he said before Akira could walk away.

Akira blinked. Goro had the distinct pleasure of finally seeing the boy taken by surprise. “I didn’t even think of that,” he said.

It was Goro’s turn to smile and reassure. It came so easy; he didn’t like to think why. “Like I said–you’re lucky.”

He felt terribly stupid carrying a plate of flowers home with him. And even though they were carefully wrapped up to avoid damage or blowing away in the wind, Goro couldn’t help but worry that they would shrivel and wither the further they got from Leblanc. There was a warmth to the shop that seemed to deliberately avoid the rest of Goro’s life, as if he removed all comfort just by being… well, anywhere. The further he got from the cafe, the more the warmth in his chest faded, the ore of his heart dulling back to a dim, hard stone.

He carefully typed the flower names into his phone, swaying with the movements of the subway train. Blue hyacinth–constancy. Red and white roses, together–unity.

It was as if a hand reached up and seized his throat in its fist.

Goro didn’t return to Leblanc for a month after that.

Ever since he was dubbed the second coming of the Detective Prince, Goro was used to receiving strange things in the mail. Fan letters, declarations of love, carefully coded hate mail that bordered on menacing threats, even the occasional confession of crimes. But today was the first time he ever received–

“Flowers.” He read the card attached to the tall, thin vase. There was no name attached, but he felt safe in guessing who would be so bold, so thoughtful, so… infuriating.

Goro recognized the writing in the card–only one other person had both a sloppy and proud penmanship. “Sweet william and Jacob’s ladder,” it said. “’Smile, and come down to me.’”

A few minutes later, Goro heard the buzzer to his door hum to life. “Yes?” he heard his voice say. His thoughts were miles away, his hopes flying even further than that.

“So,” he heard Akira’s voice clearly through the crackle. “What do you think?”

“About what?”

“The flowers.” A pause. “And the card.”

“How did–? Never mind.” Goro closed his eyes. “Why didn’t you just bring them up yourself, if you were going to hang around somewhere close by?”

“I wanted to give you some time to think,” Akira said, “and the space to do that in.”

Goro’s heart ached with a raw throb. “I can’t,” he heard himself say, the words coming out thick and wet. A voice for the tears he would not shed. “Not today. I’m–I’m busy.”

“Take your time,” Akira said again. “You know where to find me.”

The sun slanted across the bare white walls in long, thick chunks. Goro watched as the shadows grew longer, the light threadbare and weak.

Smile, and come down to me. He lifted the vase in his hand and hurled it with all his strength. The glass smashed against the far wall, matching the shattered shards that bared their razor edges inside his chest.

Some time toward the end of September, Goro ducked into Leblanc one last time.

“No matter what happens,” Akira said, his voice low and rough, “I want you to know that we’re still friends. You got that?”

Goro said nothing. He simply watched the other boy in silence, studying his expression, the twist of his lips, the gleam in his eyes. Akira made a gesture, and Goro pulled his hands back with a little shake of his head.

“Sometimes you talk like you’re expecting the world to end,” he said.

“Maybe I am. Have you seen what’s happening to the world lately?”

“I try not to. It’s too much to think about.” He forced a smile. It came out crooked and wrong, stilted, broken. Much like the boy who wore it. “I’ve got enough on my plate as it is, wouldn’t you say?”

Akira cleared away Goro’s half finished coffee in silence and left the other boy alone to think. He waited until Sakura-san, grumbling and slouchy, muttered that he was going out for a smoke before reaching out again.

Another plate of flowers slid across the counter and into Goro’s view. A deep, maroon red stem curled delicately around small white and green sprigs of the smallest flowers Goro had ever seen. But it was the red flower that held his attention–how heavy it looked, how somber, like a willow bleeding.

“I’ll save you half the trouble,” Akira said, closing his hands into fists that framed the plate. “Amaranth and honeysuckle.”

Hopeless, the search results said. Not heartless. Devoted affection.

Goro’s heart thundered in his ears. He lowered his phone as a familiar ache rose up in his chest. He knew the name for it, knew the name and reason that this persistent throb refused to fade despite his demands to do just that. He also knew who was responsible for making such a mess of him this way.

“You could save me all the trouble and just get rid of it,” Goro heard himself say. He made himself look into Akira’s eyes as he continued, each word like a knife that wounded just to be said. “All flowers are good for is decorating trash. That’s where they wind up in the end, isn’t it?”

How could his voice stay so steady and sure while his heart raced on and on as it did? Goro closed his hands into fists, lowered his eyes, and waited. Waited for Akira to take the bait, waited for Akira to fall for yet another lie. But the plate stayed where it was, and Goro could not bring himself to apologize–no matter how hunched and vulnerable Akira’s back looked as he left.

Later, much later, when the dark and the cold and the quiet like the grave had its fill of him–when the strange miracle of life clashed and came out the victor against the cold, quiet grip of death–Goro opened his eyes and sat up in his hospital bed.

The world was a riot of color that took its time to settle into shapes. When it did, he noticed two things first: Pink carnations stood in a vase next to his bed and Akira sat hunched in a nearby chair, dozing. His glasses were askew, and his unruly dark hair hung lank over his pale face. Goro tried to reach out to brush a few strands of that ridiculous hair aside, only to be greeted with a fresh wave of pain.

He must have said something, must have made some type of noise or a sharp sound, because Akira jolted awake, almost throwing himself out of his chair.

“Goro!” Akira’s hands curled around the metal bars of his bed. Tears filled up those large, black eyes and spilled over in rivers down his cheeks.

What a mess–and all for him. Goro took a long breath and turned to the flowers in the vase. “What’s this supposed to mean?” he asked. His voice was straw thin, a husk of its former self.

Akira waited until Goro looked at him again, his eyes darting all over the other boy’s face, as if he sought to memorize the wonder of him. “I will never forget you,” he said, his voice low and heavy, like a wounded heart.

Goro turned his hand over on the bed and waited. Akira’s fingers slipped over his palm and around the back of his knuckles, squeezing hard enough to hurt. It was a familiar ache, different from the months of slow suffocation, different even from the agony of returning to a life he wasn’t even sure he wanted.

“I should be so lucky,” Goro said, and he waited, eager to hear Akira laugh. But something must have gone wrong in the translation from thought to speech; Akira only continued to cry, smearing the tears off his cheeks with an impatient flick of his free hand.

Sleep was coming on fast–Goro was tired, so tired, every bone in his body heavy with the weight of being, but his heart was lighter, brighter–free of the hammer and free of the stone that dragged it down. “Stick with a rose next time,” he heard himself say. “Red. Red and white, together.”

Goro woke again three days later to what looked like a garden of roses scattered across his bed. Yellow, pink, purple, orange and red, red, deep, blood bright, fresh wound red.

“This is a very expensive way to say I love you,” he said and that, finally, brought a smile to Akira’s face.

“All you had to do was ask,” the other boy said, and he leaned in for the first of many long, tender kisses.

#akeshu #shuake #goro akechi #akira kurusu #akeshu fic #fanfic #this is the ask tag

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scriptflorist · 6 years

Note

hey!! do you know of any flowers that could represent coming to terms with events and/or yourself? thank you so much for this blog its helped me a lot ^^

Hey Nonny,

I’ll see what I can find for you.

allspice – compassion

alyssum – worth beyond beauty

balm – sympathy

basil (sweet) – good wishes

bee ophrys – error

bell flower (pyramidal) – constancy

bittersweet nightshade – truth

bittersweet – truth

bluebell – constancy, sorrowful regret, kindness, humility, gratitude

broom-rape – union

bryony – prosperity

butterfly weed – let me go

calycanthus – benevolence

cattail – peace, prosperity

celandine – joys to come, future joy

chervil – sincerity

chrysanthemum (white) – truth

cilanthus – worldliness, self-seeking

coltsfoot – justice shall be done, we will do you justice, justice, maternal care

convolvulus – uncertainty, bonds

convolvulus (pink) – worth sustained by judicious and tender affection

copihue – there is no unalloyed good

coronilla – success crown your wishes

cress – resolution, stability, power

dock – patience

flora’s bell – without pretension

geranium (apple) – present preference

ginger – strength

goat’s rue – reason

greek valerian – rupture

hazel – peace, reconciliation

helenium – tears

honeysuckle (coral) – the colour of my fate

humble plant – despondency

lint – I feel my obligations

persicaria – restoration

poppy (red) – consolation

red valerian – readiness

rose (christmas) – tranquillise my anxiety

rosebud (stripped of thorns) – I fear no longer I hope

rue (wild) – manners, morals

sea-lavender – sympathy

starwort – afterthought, welcome, welcome to a stranger

sultan (lilac) – I forgive you

volkameria – may you be happy

wild-service – harmony

willow (french) – bravery and humanity

zinnia (scarlet) – constancy

I hope this was helpful.

– Mod Jana

Disclaimer

#flower language #writing advice #victorian flower language #coming to terms #ask answered #mod jana #Anonymous

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seirxi · 7 years

Photo

white convolvulus represent bonds and ground laurels show perseverance. The judgment tarot card can mean rebirth, inner calling, and absolution while upright. However, it can also mean self-doubt when reversed.

Artswap with the amazing @sagisawarei for the 4 year anniversary of birdmen!!

They drew the lineart and I colored! You can check out our other piece here

#birdmen #birdversary2k17 #karasuma eishi #mixed tarot card meanings and flower language for ours ngnngnsj #it was fun

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heyitscmei · 7 years

Text

The Language of My Love

Characters: Keith, Shiro, mentions of others Pairing(s): Shiro/Keith Warnings: none Notes: my gift for @bringembers for the sheith flower exchange on twitter!

Read on AO3

Summary:

“I got it from a secret admirer,” Keith says. Shiro hopes that Keith didn’t notice the way he tenses before forcing himself to relax. It’s just small talk.

“Oh? Do you have any idea who it’s from?” Shiro wonders if he’s just imagining the disappointment on Keith’s face because of his own affections. After a beat, Keith shakes his head.

“No… No idea.”

-- When Shiro finds himself lost for the right words to express just what he feels for Keith, he decides to try another language.

The idea strikes Shiro as he works on an arrangement of flowers for a customer. It’s a confession.

“I want something that’ll show them how much I care.”

He wonders how the idea had never crossed his mind before, considering he works in a flower shop. After a bit of time and some internal debate, he finds himself in front of Keith’s apartment, just across from his own, with a small pot cradled in his arms. Looking up and down the hall, he confirms there are no witnesses and feels silly immediately after as he gently sets the plant down. He gives a few quick, hard knocks before quickly retreating back into his own apartment where his neighbour and closest friend won’t see him.

Peeking out of the hole on his own door, he waits to see if Keith will come, realizing that he doesn’t know if Keith is out or napping. He’s just about to take it back when the door opens and Keith stands there, looking up and down the hall with a confused furrow in his brow, before he finally catches notice of the purple flowers Shiro had left for him. He watches as Keith carefully hefts the pot up and finds the card Allura and Pidge had insisted he include.

From your secret admirer , in Allura’s fancy cursive because Shiro couldn’t bring himself to write the words himself.

The light flush dusting pale cheeks is possibly one of the most charming things Shiro has had the pleasure of seeing before Keith disappears, plant and all, behind the door.

He isn’t expecting it, when Keith comes knocking on his door later that day.

“You work in a flower shop,” He says. It’s not a question and Shiro’s stomach swoops and he wonders for a minute if he’s been found out, but before he can explain or entertain the notion that Keith might be here to accept his confession, Keith is asking him for help. “I have a new plant and I was wondering if you could give me advice?”

Shiro thinks he could confess properly right here, but when nothing comes out of his open mouth he ends up nodding, following Keith out into the hall and then into his apartment.

“I got it from a secret admirer,” Keith says. Shiro hopes that Keith didn’t notice the way he tenses before forcing himself to relax. It’s just small talk.

“Oh? Do you have any idea who it’s from?” Shiro wonders if he’s just imagining the disappointment on Keith’s face because of his own affections. After a beat, Keith shakes his head.

“No… No idea.”

By the time Shiro’s back in his apartment, reeling from the soft smile Keith had shot his way, he hasn’t confessed, but he’s still happy to have something else to bond over with someone who has so quickly carved a place in his life.

He doesn’t regret it at all.

The confirmation that Keith enjoys caring for the flowers is enough to convince Shiro to continue getting them for him. He enjoys seeing how eager Keith is to learn from him.

And maybe he allows himself the pride that Keith would rather ask him for help than turn to the internet.

So he finds himself bringing another plant and then another. Red flowers and then flowers with petals rimmed with white. Baby blues, and then white blossoms that remind him of bells.

Keith takes them all in, and he finds himself in Keith’s apartment even more often than before, helping Keith water and fertilize them when they need it. There’s something nice about the way Keith knocks their hips, telling Shiro in that playful tone not to hog the sink and he enjoys the way they’ll sometimes start to flick water at each other as they try to shove each other out of the way. And he loves how, when the plants are taken care of, Keith will ask him to stay for a while. It’s the time spent sitting with Keith talking about nothing in particular that he wishes he had more of.

It’s on one such occasion that things shift again, talking on Keith’s little couch as afternoon becomes evening.

“You know what they mean, right?”

“What?”

“The flowers.” Keith looks at him with something that Shiro might dare to call hope in his eyes. “You know what they mean, right? Flower language?”

“I didn’t think you knew what that was,” Shiro responds and it’s true. He’d been under the impression, after all this time, that Keith hadn’t known flower language. Keith shakes his head.

“I don’t,” he shrugs. “It’s something Pidge brought up.”

Ah. He’s going to kill her, the little shit. He can almost hear her saying how she got tired of his pining.

“Oh?”

“She told me it might be a message from my secret admirer, but they didn’t leave anything on the cards. So she said to ask you.” There’s a look in Keith’s eyes that Shiro can’t quite decipher, but could dare to call hope. “You know what they mean, don’t you?”

Keith is looking directly at him, and he knows Keith’s asking more than if he knows flower language. Mouth running a little dry, Shiro swallows and decides to take the leap.

Convolvulus.

“Bonds. For… for our bond.” Shiro tells Keith, glancing at him, cheeks aflame, before looking at soft, purple petals still sitting neatly in their pot. A small bit of pride blooms in his chest at how they’ve flourished and a sappy sweet part of his heart tells him it’s fitting. Their bond has flourished too.

“Our bond?” Keith echoes. Shiro licks his lips and nods.

“It’s always growing stronger and brighter... like flowers.” He feels a little silly, saying it out loud, but Keith smiles at him. It’s a small, but soft thing, as if he’s thinking over Shiro’s words and likes the realization. Spurred on by Keith’s smile, he continues, wanting to see this through.

Red Camellias.

This one is embarrassing to say, but the whole situation is maybe a little embarrassing anyways. Having Keith turn to him for tips to properly nurture and care for his potted confessions, all while being oblivious to the intentions behind them, is perhaps not one of Shiro’s finer moments.

Still, getting the chance to care for these plants with Keith, watching the way they thrived under his care and determination, isn’t something Shiro could ever bring himself to regret. The memory of the excited smile Keith had shared with him when that one stubborn blossom finally started to bloom, running into Shiro’s flower shop with eyes lit up like the sun, lights something up inside of him too.

“You’re a flame in my heart,” Shiro says, finally, glancing up at Keith before looking back down at red flowers and deep, green leaves. They remind him of Keith. Gorgeous. Red. Fiery in the ways Shiro could never think to extinguish, should Keith’s light ever be snuffed out, and so, so full of life.

If Keith is a flame in his heart, Shiro is all too willing to let the flame consume it until he’s burning in all the ways that remind him that he’s alive too.

Keith snorts softly. “A flame in your heart?”

��Look, it seemed fitting at the time,” Shiro defends, a little helpless.

“At the time?” Keith quirks a brow. “How about now?”

Shiro feels the way his cheeks grow hot and knows that the sentiment still rings true.

“Yeah. Still fits,” He tells Keith, and is completely distracted by the way Keith bites his lip to stifle a laugh. Shiro narrows his eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”

It’s not a question so much as a statement of fact, but regardless, Keith tilts his head, smirking, and says, “maybe.”

Before Shiro can respond, Keith gestures to the next pot, a small one containing maroon blooms with white-rimmed petals.

“What about those ones?”

Gloxinia.

“Love at first sight,” Shiro says, picking the pot up and stroking gently at the leaves just to give himself something to do.

“So.... from when I first moved in, all those months ago?”

“Seems like it,” Shiro confirms, “but I just wanted to know you.”

“Well, now you know me. What do you think?”

“There are a lot of things to think.”

“How about starting with this one?” Keith asks, picking up the next pot, filled with small, soft blue flower. “I think I know what these ones are.”

Forget-me-nots.

“They mean true love,” Shiro confesses. “I hadn’t been sure until recently, but… I know now.”

The time spent together has only ever made Shiro’s affections grow stronger, after all. Quietly and slowly filling him like a glass, now overflowing. Growing stronger with every smile Keith shares with him and every time they brush arms. With every time Shiro makes him laugh, loud and full-bodied and every bit of information that Keith tells him about himself. It grows stronger with every piece he finds himself sharing with Keith, too.

“I think I know what you mean,” Keith says, putting the pot back down and looking at Shiro meaningfully. “What about these last ones?”

Lily of the Valley .

“Sweet love,” Shiro responds. “I guess they kind of go together, huh?”

He can’t quite bring himself to say it out loud, not now, but he thinks in the privacy of his own mind that falling in love with Keith was one of life’s sweeter pleasures. Judging by the way Keith is looking at him, he thinks he has plenty of time to divulge everything else that Keith makes him feel. Plenty of time to lay his heart bare. No rush.

“Like us?” Keith asks, lips quirked.

“Yeah.” Shiro exhales. “I can agree with that.”

The following day, Shiro opens his door and halts before he can trip over a pot, filled with dark red flowers. He hefts it up and finds a simple note, written in Keith’s handwriting.

From your not-so-secret admirer.

He laughs softly to himself, looking up at the door across from his before taking the pot inside. He goes about finding the perfect place for them and getting them some water. He figures Keith must have done some research for these ones, but he knows exactly what they are and what they mean.

Red Carnations.

Deep Love.

“Yes.”

#voltron #sheith #shiro #keith #sheith flower exchange #cmei writes

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