#the bright purple one is new england aster | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kiyodu · 3 years

Text

Been interested in Floriography (language of flowers) lately. Here are my Favourites Part II:

Heather

• luck, protection

The meaning originates from a Scottish folklore. Malvina, a legendary beauty, was betrothed to a brave warrior called Oscar. As Oscar lay dying in battle, he instructed a messenger to deliver a sprig of purple heather to his bride-to-be as a token of his eternal love. When Malvina's tears fell upon the flower, it changed from purple to white. From then on, heather was said to turn sorrow to good fortune and protection. Pair it with rose as you begin a new relationship, and cattail for good health for a friend awaiting a diagnosis.

Holly

• foresight

Holly branches were hung in homes to protect against misfortune. It was said that if a girl ran seven laps around a holly tree one way, then seven times around the other way, her future husband would appear to her. Pair it with eucalyptus to indicate looking out for a friend, and lily of the valley to show better times are on the horizon.

Lilac

• first love, reminiscence

In Greek mythology, Pan, the god of the forests, was in love with Syringa, a nymph who feared his advances. To disguise herself, she turned into a lilac bush. Pan, upon finding the shrub, cut its hollow reeds to form the pan flute, memoralizing his first love. Victorian widows often wore lilac while in mourning over their late husbands. Pair it with monkshood to honor your first true love, tulip to declare being in love for the first time, daisy and aster for the purity and innocence of one's first love.

Lily of the Valley

• return of happiness

Saint Leonard, a hermit who lived in the forests of West Sussex, was said to have slain the last dragon in England. According to legend, the places where St. Leonard battled the dragon were marked by lilies of the valley, which are blossomed in clusters wherever the saint's blood was spilled. Once he defeated the dragon, St. Leonard was able to resume his life of happy seclusion. Pair with protea to transform a bad situation into a good one, and yarrow to help soothe a broken heart.

Marigold

• grief

When clouds roll in or night falls, the marigold curls inward and lets its head droop. When it opens again in the sunlight, its petals, wet with dew, appear to be crying. Traditionally, marigolds are used to celebrate Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) in Mexico, when the spirits of the departed are believed to visit the living. This celebration is rooted in the Aztec festival honoring Mictecacihuatl, the goddess of the underworld. Pair it with willow to indicate sorrow at the loss of a loved one, and rue to apologise for the pain you've caused.

Mistletoe

• surmounting all difficulties

In Norse mythology, the beloved god Balder was haunted by dreams of his impending death, so his devoted mother, Frigga, made everything in nature promise not to hurt him. Sadly, she overlooked the mistletoe plant. Loki, god of mischief, created an arrow from the plant and tricked Balder's brother into killing him with it. In her grief, Frigga begged the other gods to bring Balder back, which they did, proving he could surmount all difficulties, even death itself.

The bright winter berry, cut from the oak tree, was seen as a symbol of hope during the darkest, most difficult time of the year. Pair it with amaryllis for the confidence to overcome a challenge, and lady slipper to indicate your faith that the tides will turn in the recipient's favor.

Oak

• bravery

Oak trees have long been associated with brave and triumphant figures in many different cultures. In Norse mythology, it is known as the tree of life. Pair it with sweet william and monkshood for someone you admire, and clematis to indicate appreciation for a leader in your life.

Pansy

• you occupy my thoughts

The name comes from the french pensée, meaning thought. In Shakespeare's Hamlet, Ophelia remarks, "There's pansies, that's for thoughts," while distributing flowers after the death of her father. Pair it with chrysanthemum for a loved one going through a rough time, and forget-me-not as a gift for a friend whose kindness and generosity you'll never forget.

Snowdrop

• consolation, hope

One of the first flowers to bloom in the depths of winter, the bright white snowdrop is a sign that spring—and a turn toward better, easier days—is coming. Victorians loved this unique flower but warned against bringing it into the home. If brought indoors, it was considered a bad omen, perhaps even a harbinger of death. Pair it with carnation for a broken heart, mistletoe to indicate endurance through difficult times.

Sweet pea

• thank you for a lovely time

The flower's light and sweet smell was believed to brighten the home and serve as a symbol of hospitality. Pair it with hyssop and orchid to thank a friend for inviting you to their home, zinnia as a token of appreciation.

— Jessica Roux, Floriography

*image credits given where it's due.

#floriography #flowers #flower meanings #books #book quotes

46 notes · View notes

romeulusroy · 4 years

Text

A Garden Of Apologies (Thomas Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: Thomas

Word Count: 1,295

Inspired By: Flowers by iyla

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomimagines @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16

A/N: 1.) I love this song 2.) Sorry for the spam of fics lately!!! I always fear I'm being annoying when I post a fic every few days, especially with the tag list included!!! It feels like I'm bothering people!!! Is this a common thing or just ya gurl overthinking? Also, y'all would let me know if I was being annoying, right? :P Anyways, I'm really happy with how this turned out! I hope you like it as much as I do! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

Spitting roots, breathing petals, dead leaves in his vomit, instead of apologies, instead of the proper words an adult should be able to say to the person he loves. With every regret, every forgotten anniversary, rushed date, ever back handed compliment and passive aggressive comment, came another bouquet. There weren't enough flowers in all of England to keep him out of trouble. There weren't enough in the whole world to heal all the wounds, your nights spent plucking thorns from your palms, tending to broken glass and spilled water, another vase gone, cleaning yourself up enough to be presentable when another bouquet found its way on your doorstep. An abandoned baby. A stray dog. Something to care for, another reminder of his failures, of your rotting relationship. One by one, taking over, taking up space, until you were sure the smell of flora would finally suffocate you. A choke, a sob, a sad attempt at crawling your way to help. What a beautiful final place of rest. Colorful. Bright. Alive. Ironic.

Maybe then he'd deliver them himself to your grave. Maybe not.

Roses. Daisies. Tulips. Chrysanthemums. Dahlias. Azaleas. Lilies. Jasmine. Blood turned pink, purple, white, dripping into the water, the roots, ruining the whole plant. Good. Your anger turned towards them, as if they were to blame. Vases smashed against the walls. No words, just screams, yells, needing to get it out somehow. Listening from bed. The same routine. He'd come home to a crime, a murder, nothing new in his line of work. Disappointed you hadn't at least used a gun. Made them suffer, suffocate, scream for help, your fingerprints all over the scene. The shine of his shoes muddied by limp leaves begging, torn petals crying. He loves you, you love him not. You love him, he loves you not. Guess you'd never know the answer. He always did keep you guessing. It used to ne so charming. Bending, cupping the glass in his own calloused hands, disposing of it without a word. He wasn't sure how to talk to you anymore, to communicate, instead holding all the things he would have said in his palms, in a pile of curse words, in shards of sorry's, and shiny little excuses. He wasn't sure how to feel anymore, what to do, what to say.

He wasn't sure what you were anymore.

Your husband, if that's what you wanted to call him. Someone you used to recognize. Vines around your finger, tightening, cutting off circulation. Purple, swollen, bloated, dying. Every time you took it off, there was relief, the lack of pain you hadn't realized was there in the first place. He left early, slipping away, as if it never happened, the rest of your home, your garden, untouched. In some ways, they were the fights you never had. Fussy, decaying, shrivel in up. Taking on the emotions the two of you emitted. All the words you left unsaid. Inhale the tension, the sighs, the cries you hid from one another. Exhale what could have been. A resolution, a rekindled relationship, the marriage you always dreamed of having. Instead there was a quiet resentment boiling, brewing, and a careful bitterness seeping into staged smiles and counterfeit kisses. It was poison, and one day it would kill you.

You used to love them. The bloom in spring, coming to life, sprouting between cracks in the cobblestone. Admiration for the fighters, the ones willing to do anything to get their way, move their way up in the world, unaware of the neglect, the lack of thought for the rest of the world. A one track mind. That's what he was, whether or not you realized it at the time. His come up was grand, and bold, blooming in the light of day after so much time spent clawing his way up. It deserved a celebration, a commemoration. Underneath the cracks, though, you were left behind. Forgotten. Abandoned. Left to drown in the downpour, to wilt, over watered. With you, your dreams of the life you'd have. A home far away, getting out of the Small Heath. A family of your own, children to raise, to cherish and love. A hope of growing old together. All of that withering the second business took off. That was when he forgot, opting to file through papers, sift through cigarette smoke and an endless supply of secretaries, instead of making time for you, for all the conversations you were supposed to have.

This can't be love.

It was never what you expected. Marrying him, it should have been a dream. Instead, you watered each plant every morning, moving them when they needed light, cursing the constant cloudy weather. Watching them grow, thrive under your care. Strong, healthy, happy, you hoped. In a home like this, without words, you doubted a child would ever thrive. A little boy, Aster, and a girl, Iris. Maybe you'd give up on flowers altogether. Name them what he really loved, what he cherished above everything else in the world; Money and Power. Re-pot them when they grew too big, outgrowing you, the small space available by the window, leaving the same way he did. A funny thought, a sad one, too. It was only you and your plants. Something to hold on to when there was nothing else. The last proof he gave a damn about you. There'd be another one for you. Wrapped snug in paper, snipped at the stems, crawling with regret, with the weight of the world on its tender leaves. The only thing you had to nurture, to love, searching for a cradle, something for it to sleep in.

Your home. Lacking warmth, security, everything you ever wanted. Grey skies, grey roads, grey people. Was this his way of adding a little color to your life? A cottage, a farm, fields of green where the flowers lived outside instead of in. Warmed by the sun through the windows, your cheeks properly kissed. Time would be slower than before. No hustle, no chasing after cars. The air would be so much lighter, sweeter, softer. You'd finally be able to breath. Your world would be honeyed, glistened in a foggy kind of yellow, the rest of the world oozing away. Nothing could touch you there, nothing would rot. You'd die in Birmingham. Family, money, business, all of it too important to leave behind, too crucial to be far from. It's what he lived and breathed. Your dream of thin linen nights and stars you could actually see with the lack of smog, of watching bunnies scurry and birds chirp would be buried with you.

This was your life. A let down.

He hadn't always been like this. Not when you were first together, not even after your wedding. Attentive, caring, comforting. He was your sense of safety, your sense of security. A gate around the garden walls, keeping the bugs, the animals, the sharpness of any pair of sheers out, away. He told you what he could. Enough to share, to plant the seeds, water them, but never enough to put you in danger, to invite a parasite in your life. That was enough for you. It would be now, if he shared that much. Somewhere, between then and now, he lost that, choosing work over everything. Business before love. Screaming fits, sleeping on the couch, maggots, all of it hushed. You shared the bed, the soil, but it wasn't what it used to be. It never would recover, too many questions, too many onlookers, dirt kicked up, stems stepped on, the hands of others wandering along the lock of the gate. It wasn't sacred anymore. Nothing between you two grew anymore. You weren't sure it ever would.

Fuck flowers and fuck Thomas Shelby.

78 notes · View notes

sumpix · 4 years

Text

🌱🌿☘🍀🎍🎋🍃🍂🍁🌾

I very proudly entered the forestry school as an 18-year-old and telling them that the reason that I wanted to study botany was because I wanted to know why asters and goldenrod looked so beautiful together. These are these amazing displays of this bright, chrome yellow and deep purple of New England aster, and they look stunning together. And the two plants so often intermingle rather than living apart from one another, and I wanted to know why that was. I thought that surely in the order and the harmony of the universe, there would be an explanation for why they looked so beautiful together. And I was told that that was not science, that if I was interested in beauty, I should go to art school.

Which was really demoralizing as a freshman, but I came to understand that question wasn’t going to be answered by science, that science, as a way of knowing, explicitly sets aside our emotions, our aesthetic reactions to things. We have to analyze them as if they were just pure material, and not matter and spirit together. And, yes, as it turns out, there’s a very good biophysical explanation for why those plants grow together, so it’s a matter of aesthetics and it’s a matter of ecology. Those complimentary colors of purple and gold together, being opposites on the color wheel, they’re so vivid, they actually attract far more pollinators than if those two grew apart from one another.So each of those plants benefits by combining its beauty with the beauty of the other. And that’s a question that science can address, certainly, as well as artists. And I just think that “Why is the world so beautiful?” is a question that we all ought to be embracing.

Robin Wall Kimmerer, “The Intelligence of Plants”, from the podcast On Being with Krista Tippett

#Robin Wall Kimmerer #intelligence of plants #botany

2 notes · View notes

hopeymchope · 7 years

Text

Planning Ahead - Naegiri One-Shot - Danganronpa Fanfic

This one grew way beyond my intended length. Sorry, but… here’s the longest one-shot I’ve ever done.

Honestly… I wound up being kind of proud of it.

Naegi and Kirigiri squatted down to focus on the dusty concrete floor. Kyoko instinctively glanced at the hem of her skirt to see whether any of the filth from the ground was brushing it, then promptly returned to ignoring the matter. This was not the time or place to worry about the state of her outfit. It’s not like she expected to be imprisoned in an abandoned building today.

No - this time was best spent strategizing.

Kyoko extended her left forefinger and used it to trace out her vision in the dust, placing it just within the beam of sunlight that extended from their cell’s tiny window along the back of the small room. “We put Togami-kun here,” she told Makoto as she drew a circle in the filth. “That way, he can serve as a distraction.”

Makoto chuckled a little. “He won’t like that,” he said.

“The venue is ideal for it,” Kyoko countered. “The entryway serves as a bottleneck. If we have him near the door, then align ourselves so that you and I have a direct line of sight to both his location and said door-”

“I get it,” Makoto said, smiling in realization. “He can cut off any unwanted guests and prevent them from getting decent shots of us. And they’ll naturally be drawn to look at him anyway, since he’s… Togami-kun.”

Kyoko smirked and gave a nod in response. Pleased with herself, she raised her right forefinger to her lips in thought. “Perhaps we should put Fukawa-san with him?”

“He definitely won’t like that,” Makoto replied with a grin. However, his face fell as a complication occurred to him. “Wait, what if she accidentally sneezes and ‘changes’ on us?”

Creases appeared in Kyoko’s forehead as she mulled the possibility over. “I think we can prevent exposure to any of the obvious triggers,” she said. “I’ll just tell the florist to keep all arrangements away from their table, then ask the chef to go light on the pepper in Fukawa-san’s dishes.”

“There’s another thing to consider,” Makoto warned her. “Komaru will want to be wherever Fukawa-san is.”

“Fine,” Kyoko said as she drew a few more ‘x’ marks next to her first circle. “Then the table closest to the entry will have Togami-kun, Fukawa-san, Komaru and Pennyworth-kun.

“What if Togami-kun starts wandering, though?” Makoto asked with concern. “To get away from Fukawa-san, I mean. If he moves off, we lose our shield against the paparazzi.”

Kyoko frowned slightly. “Then… hm… ”

She started to wipe away three of her dusty ‘x’ marks when a loud noise came from the metal door. Kyoko quickly stood to regard the armed man in ill-fitting fatigues who stepped through. He was joined by a partner wearing a white tight-shirt and jeans. This one had his spiky hair dyed a bright, unnatural blond.

“It’s time,” one of them said roughly. Naegi stood up and took his place by Kirigiri’s left side.

Kyoko placed her hands on her hips. “No last requests?” she asked indignantly.

“Boss says you don’t deserve any,” the blond one answered.

Makoto glanced down at Kyoko’s left hand, nervously eyeing the engagement ring slipped over her gloved hand. He grabbed her hand in his and swallowed.

Even as she gripped Makoto’s hand with her left, Kyoko ran her right hand through her hair, flipping it defiantly. “Your 'boss’ is unfathomably rude,” she informed the men.

The one in fatigues gave her a toothy grin. “I’ll pass along your complaints,” he snarled.

Naegi and Kirigiri were marched down a dark corridor with a rifle pointed at each of their backs. They kept their hands locked together while they walked.

As they approached the end of the tunnel that exited into blinding sunlight, Kyoko cleared her throat. “Just for the record… ” she began.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Makoto interrupted her.

Nevertheless, she continued: “You shouldn’t have come after me.”

Makoto had beads of sweat forming on his forehead, but he managed to smile weakly. “I know.”

“I’m perfectly capable of handling myself,” she went on.

“I know,” Makoto repeated.

“You could’ve at least wait for an official rescue operation to be mounted instead of running off half-cocked,” she finished with exasperation.

Makoto looked over at his fiance with an expression containing both affection and regret. “Did you really think there was any way that I wasn’t going to come racing after you?” he asked.

Kyoko smiled sadly at him. “No, I suppose I didn’t,” she acknowledged. She squeezed his hand a little tighter in hers as they walked out and into the light.

Once her eyes adjusted to the glare of the sun, Kyoko saw that the pair had been taken into a small, dirty parking lot with a makeshift barricade of shipping crates blocking access to or any view of the adjacent road. The other three sides of the lot were blocked in by buildings, including a large skyscraper to the far right and the mid-sized building they’d just emerged from on the left-hand side. A shorter two-story structure made up the back wall that faced the barricade. Three-quarters of the lot was surrounded by men spaced a few feet apart from one another, adding up to maybe 20 or 30 individuals by her initial estimation. More than half were openly wielding firearms.

“As I thought,” Kyoko mused aloud. “We’re only 10 kilometers or so from the school.”

“Next time you go outside the campus walls to 'check the perimeter,’” Makoto advised, “Could you maybe take more than one bodyguard with you?”

Kyoko eyed him affectionately. “I’ll consider it, Headmaster,” she teased lightly.

“Shut up and move,” the man in fatigues ordered them.

The two men at their backs led them over to a pair of metal poles, each mounted in a concrete-filled tire. They resembled the kind of thing one would attach a tetherball to, but their captors attached Naegi and Kirigiri to the poles instead by pulling them apart, then tying their hands behind their backs and around the poles. The wall of the building directly behind them was the only area of the arena not lined with members of the controlling gang. Kyoko was not at all surprised to learn that this was because she and Makoto were to be shot by weapons facing that direction, firing-squad-style.

A large, muscular man wearing dark green pants and no shirt stepped out from the crowd and slowly strolled up in front of the two, standing about five meters away from them. He was holding a Kalashnikov rifle in both hands, but his most notable feature was that his face was painted half-white and half-black. Kyoko immediately pegged him as the aforementioned “boss” of this group.

He let his rifle hang down on one side as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Sorry,” he said insincerely to his captives. “Our group isn’t as well-funded as Enoshima-sensei was. We’re gonna have to film this thing guerilla-style, but don’t you worry: Everybody will still get to watch you die.”

Makoto swallowed hard. Kyoko just stared blankly at the group’s leader, clearly bored by his little speech. “I’ve been told that you don’t believe in last requests,” Kyoko said flatly. “Am I at least allowed some last words?”

The leader’s grin revealed that he’d filed some of his teeth down to ragged, painful-looking points. “Oh? Got something to say, sweetie?” he hissed.

Kyoko let her eyes drift around the parking lot, looking each member of the group in the eyes for a fleeting moment as she announced, “I just wanted you to know that I understand. I understand that you abducted two people who work at a school because you long for discipline. And I want to assure all of you that you will get what you’re after very, very soon.”

The assembled group of thugs chuckled awkwardly at her words. A few of them shifted their stances uncomfortably. The leader just shook his head in disbelief. “You ain’t the one in charge here, little girl,” he growled with a twisted half-smile. “You got nothing on us.”

Kyoko smiled at him confidently and stared him in the eyes, saying nothing. Gradually, his own smile faded into an irritated scowl.

“Whatever,” he grumbled. The leader turned his back on the two and held the phone in his outstretched arms, beginning to record a “selfie” video with his two captives in the background. “A despairing day to you,” he began in a rasp. “We are the Sons of Enoshima, and today we present you with a long-overdue treat: The execution of the Ultimate Hope. Along with him, we-”

Kyoko couldn’t bring herself to pay attention to the rest. He continued droning on, but she turned her attention to Makoto instead. “You know how I wanted to do a Fall wedding because of the traditionally Autumnal wedding colors?” she began innocently.

Makoto was sweating heavily from his face now, but he tried to give her as much attention as he could muster while still eyeing the leader at the same time. “Y-yeah,” he stammered. “Um, especially the purples.”

Kyoko gave him a small smile. “Naturally. Unfortunately, it seems that both lilacs and violets will be out of season in the Fall. The florist suggested we can surround the centerpieces with New England Aster, which I’m in favor of. But for the central focus… I confess that I’m struggling to make a decision. Do you have any thoughts?”

“I will count down from five,” the leader said to his phone’s camera with a sickening smile. “I want you all to watch the last five seconds before I rip Hope out of this world. And when I’m finished… it’s punishment tiiiiiiiime!” he screamed. Cheers erupted from the men around him, some of whom fired their guns blindly into the air.

“Uhh… Kyoko?” Makoto half-whispered.

“Don’t worry about him,” Kyoko said dismissively. “Focus on the task at hand.”

The blond man in the t-shirt and jeans ran up to his boss and took the phone from his hand, taking over filming duties as the leader turned around and aimed his rifle at Makoto and Kyoko.

Makoto closed his eyes, attempting to concentrate on his fiancee’s question.

“Five!” the leader yelled.

“What about an orchid?” Makoto suggested. “I know they’re not easy to find-”

“Four!” the leader continued.

“No, that’s perfect!” Kyoko said happily.

“Thr-”

The leader suddenly lurched forward in pain, cutting off his own count. Some confused chatter began to rise among the crowd of his followers.

Kyoko eyed this sight with a tight, satisfied smile, then returned her attention to Makoto. “The purple ones are gorgeous,” she noted with quiet enthusiasm. “And we only need a small number of them.”

Makoto wasn’t paying attention to the conversation anymore. A soft whup-whup-whup noise began to escalate in volume, filling the air around the parking lot. About half of the gang looked skyward, trying to identify the source of the noise, while others were looking at their boss-

-as he threw his head backwards, exposing the pair of scissors embedded in his jugular.

The blond thug dropped the cell phone and cried out, “What the unholy fuck?!”

The painted face of the leader gurgled a bit before his body fell backwards, hitting the ground with the sound of wet meat striking a slab.

The rhythmic thumping in the air grew progressively louder.

“Ehehehehehehehehe!” cackled a feminine voice above them. Makoto watched as the body of his friend Fukawa somersaulted over him, evidently having launched herself from the roof behind them. She hit the ground in a crouch, then rose to reveal the pairs of genoscissors in her hands and her long, dangling tongue.

“Shit NO!” yelled one of the thugs.

“Thank God,” Makoto mumbled, relieved.

The gang was still out of sorts, with some of them pointing their guns towards the sky and stumbling around as they searched for the source of the loud thumping while others were focused on the serial killer before them. The blond man backed away from the scissors-wielding lunatic before him and pulled out his pistol, pointing it at the woman. “Everybody aim at that psycho bitch!” he ordered the others.

Before the group could comply, a black helicopter flew over the adjoining mid-sized building. The group of men looked up in awe and horror.

Byakuya Togami’s authoritative voice called out over a megaphone. “This helicopter is armed with a minigun and an M197 cannon. Your entire force is currently within our sights. Drop your weapons and get your on your knees. I give you my word as a Togami that no one who complies will be harmed. I also give my word that anyone who disobeys will be destroyed.”

And with that, the entire gang obeyed. The sound of guns clattered to the pavement echoed through the lot.

“Ooohhh, I love it when he’s bossy, hehehe!” Genocider cooed.

The helicopter flew lower, and ropes unfurled from it so as to drop some troops into the makeshift arena. As the security forces came in, Makoto Naegi let out a lengthy sigh.

“I’ll have to talk to them about their response time,” Kyoko said to no one in particular, frowning. “They should’ve been here four seconds sooner. Sloppy.”

One of the security troops came over to the bound couple and stepped behind them. He worked quickly slice through their bonds with his combat knife. “Sorry for the delay,” the man in black offered.

Kyoko’s face turned stern as she whirled around to face the soldier, but Makoto cut her off. “No worries!” he told the security officer happily. “The only thing that matters is that you made it in time. We both really appreciate it. We’ll be sure to thank everyone on the team.”

He shot a warm smile over at Kyoko, who reluctantly added, “I… also thank you.” The soldier saluted her and then scurried off.

Moments later, the helicopter had landed in the center of the lot. Most of the troops were securing the so-called Sons of Enoshima. Byakuya Togami climbed out of the helicopter and headed for Naegi and Kirigiri, accompanied by one of the soldiers.

“Oh Master Sweet Cheeeeeeks,” a sing-song voice called out. Togami turned to right to see Genocider holding the now-severed head of the gang leader aloft. “Want some head? Hehehehehehe!” she cackled, clearly entertaining herself.

Byakuya looked utterly disgusted. Turning to the soldier beside him, he ordered “Get someone to gas her before I vomit.” The man with him just nodded and ran off.

“Awww, come on!” Genocider cried out plaintively. She held the severed head in her outstretched arm and declared, “Lookit lookit, I’m Hamlet! That’s the kind of classy shit you dig, right?!”

Byakuya ignored her as he strode over to Naegi and Kirgiri. “Are you both well?” he asked.

“Well enough,” Kyoko responded curtly.

“Isn’t Fukawa-san going to freak when she learns she killed somebody?” Makoto asked with concern.

“She’ll be fine once she knows I ordered her to do so,” Byakuya remarked coolly.

Kyoko folded her arms. “You were slow,” she said simply.

Makoto rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You’re too harsh,” he told her with a soft laugh, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“No, she’s entirely correct,” Byakuya fired back. “I’ve already made the team aware that their performance today was unacceptable.”

Kyoko was looking Makoto in the eyes and only half-listening. “I suppose… unacceptable might be a bit much,” she accepted as the corners of her mouth curled upwards.

Byakuya shook his head. “You’re growing soft, Kirigiri,” he said — thought his tone was far less harsh than his words. “Get yourselves checked out by medical, won’t you?” He turned on his heel and walked off without another word.

Once more alone with Kyoko, Makoto grinned at her. “Thanks for keeping me grounded during all of that,” he said sincerely.

Her tiny, subtle smile was still there when she told him, “It wasn’t just a distraction, you know. We really do need to make these decisions.”

“I know,” he said happily. “Um, I was thinking about our cake, actually, and… do you like Red Velvet?”

“More than I should,” she said, her smile growing a little.

“Awesome!” he said excitedly. His eyes glinted with playful intent when he added, “Next question, then: Are you going to admit it?”

“Admit what?” Kyoko countered with faux ignorance.

“That my special engagement gift was a great idea, of course,” he said, grinning. He put his hands around Kyoko’s hips, sliding them just above the back of her skirt.

She rested her hands on his shoulders and leaned her head down slightly to look him in the eyes. “I never thought having an emergency transponder in my engagement ring was bad, you understand,” she said. “Clever, certainly. Unconventional? Definitely.”

He giggled a little. “Come on, you thought it was weird,” he teased her as his face leaned closer to hers.

“And smart,” she said softly, leaning her nose against his.

“And weird,” he pressed, staring deep into her eyes.

Unable to help it any longer, Kyoko Kirigiri’s mouth broke into a grin. “Yes,” she acknowledged. “It was very weird.”

With that admission, she finally leaned in and pressed her mouth against his. Makoto gently pulled her closer to him as he took the kiss in. He kissed her softly at first, but after what they had just been through, that wasn’t what she wanted. Kyoko moved her hands around his upper back, balled them into fists, and pulled him hard against him, causing him to grunt low in his throat. His arms wrapped around her tightly in response and they pressed together so hard that she thought they might begin to grind into one another.

“Fucking hell!” shouted the dyed-blond thug. From six meters away and on his knees with his hands cuffed behind his back, he made a gagging sound of disgust as he watched Naegi and Kirigiri. “Get a fucking room, you nasty cunts!” he added.

Without stopping the kiss or even opening her eyes, Kyoko pulled her left arm away from Makoto and quietly raised her middle finger in the direction of the voice.

#danganronpa #danganronpa fanfic #danganronpa fanfiction #danganfanfic #danganronpa fan fiction #naegiri #makoto naegi #kyoko kirigiri #genocider syo #genocide jack #byakuya togami #otp fic

129 notes · View notes

tarensran-blog · 5 years

Text

How to Care Aster Blossom

Asters are delightful perennials that are discovered wild in North America and southern Europe. The variety Aster incorporates somewhere in the range of 600 types of generally disseminated blossoming plants in the family Asteraceae.

Asters are likewise called as Starworts, Michaelmas Daisies, or Frost Flowers. Asters are found predominantly in North America, with certain species stretching out into South America; others are conveyed all through Europe and Asia. The word Aster is of Greek induction and alludes to the Starlike blossoms that can be white, red, pink, purple, lavender and blue, for the most part with yellow focuses.

www.flowersdelivereduk.org.uk

The class Aster is presently commonly limited to the old world species, with Aster amellus being the sort types of the variety (and of the family Asteraceae). The new world species have now been renamed in the genera Almutaster, Canadanthus, Doellingeria, Eucephalus, Eurybia, Ionactis, Oligoneuron, Oreostemma, Sericocarpus and Symphyotrichum, yet at the same time the new world species are likewise broadly alluded to as Asters in the green exchange.

Asters are really 1 - 1.5 - inch blossoms. Asters are extremely convoluted blooms. An Aster bloom is really an accumulation of exceptionally little cylindrical blossoms, assembled together in a focal plate, and encompassed by supposed beam blossoms or petals, eg., Sunflower. The focal circle of blooms on the Asters is encompassed by the ring of beam blossoms. By and large the circle blossoms are an unexpected shading in comparison to the petals so the whole bloom head resembles a solitary bloom with a focal plate encompassed by contrastingly hued petals. The beam blooms on the Asters are never yellow. The cylindrical blossoms of the Asters are indiscriminate, having both a pistil and stamens; the beam blooms are generally sterile.

Some well known assortments of Asters are: Lindley's (Aster ciliolatus), New England (Aster novae-angliae), Many-Flowered (Aster ericoides), Western Silvery (Aster sericeus), Willow (Aster hesperius), Flat-Topped White (Aster umbellatus), Smooth (Aster laevis).

Realities About Asters

Aster plants are for the most part coarse-developing, verdant stemmed plants that are at times marginally woody at the base.

The greater part of the Asters are perennials, however a couple are annuals and biennials.

All Asters have interchange, basic leaves that are untoothed or toothed yet once in a while lobed.

The leaves of the Aster plant are regularly dull green and, similar to the bloom petals, can likewise be long, slim and pointed.

Asters for the most part blossom in pre-fall and fall, yet Alpine asters (Aster alpinus) bloom in May and June.

The two primary gatherings of Asters are New England Asters (Aster novae anglias) and New York Asters (Aster nova belgii).

Asters are one of the simplest greenery enclosure perennials to develop.

Asters' most serious issue is fine buildup. Asters might be spread by partitioning or developed from seed sown inside at around 70 degrees F or might be sown straightforwardly into the patio nursery after all threat of ice has passed. Germination takes somewhere in the range of 15 to 30 days, contingent upon the temperature.

Asters ought to be planted in soggy all around depleted soil in full sun, yet they will endure light shading.

Plant Asters something like 18 inches separated with the goal that plants don't frame expansive rugged bunches.

Develop clusters ought to be partitioned each 3 - 4 years in the late-winter, or pre-winter after the blooming has wrapped up.

Squeeze back the tops by 6-8 creeps in any event once amid the late spring, to make a bushier plant and to draw out the fall sprout.

Squeezing must be done before mid July, or it will have a contrary impact, and blossoming will be decreased.

Asters Plant Care

By planting Asters in a bright spot with great air flow, fine mold can more often than not be kept away from.

Asters need customary watering at their underlying foundations.

Numerous Aster assortments neglect to endure the winter whenever kept excessively clammy.

Asters ought to be chopped down subsequent to blossoming to stop seeding. Indeed, even without seeding, Asters ought to be isolated at regular intervals to remain taking care of business.

Infection in Asters can be constrained by separating them yearly in spring.

Pruning will in general postpone blooming by just a couple of days however creates an a lot prettier plant.

Asters are utilized as sustenance plants by the hatchlings of various Lepidoptera species.

Asters are generally an ideal objective for feathered creatures, honey bees and butterflies since they are fragrant and vivid.

Numerous types of Asters are dry season safe. Asters rely upon creepy crawlies to fertilize them. A few creepy crawlies that take dust starting with one plant then onto the next incorporate honey bees, butterflies, and flies.

The seeds of Bushy Asters are little achenes, and look like parachutes, which normally spread by wind.

The China Aster (Callistephus cinensis), likewise a Compositae, a local of China, is identified with the genuine Asters.

0 notes