#Floriography

[ansitru]

Hey friends, have you taken your medication? 💖

[loosescrewslefty]

Local Floriography Bitch Emerges from Hibernation Because Cute Spy Found Family Romcom Has Cheeky Flower Shot!

Alright, let's get the Basic Bitch of Floriography addressed first, which means looking at Bond and his Yellow Rose

Roses are the flower that even people who know next to nothing about Floriography usually know on sight, but it's still cute that they gave the flower representing Friendship to Man's Best Friend.

Moving Counterclockwise through the picture, our next subject is Yor, sporting a fetching Orchid on her hairband.

Orchids symbolize Beautiful Woman, Refinement, Grace, and Uniqueness, and while it's 100% accurate for Yor, a part of me started to strongly suspect here that Loid is responsible for everyone's blooms, and used to opportunity to give discreet messages to his family without them knowing what he's telling them. (sneaky sneaky~)

Speaking of Loid, the man himself is up next, standing slyly with a Blue Aster.

Asters are also known as Starflowers, a sneaky nod to Loid's codename Twilight. And like roses, asters have different meanings depending on the colors you choose. Blue asters just so happen to symbolize Trustworthiness and Faithfulness. The perfect flower to represent a hardworking family man devoted to his wife and daughter! And certainly not the sort of thing one would associate with an undercover spy!

And finally, there is the last Forger Family Flower, and a brutal suckered punch to my soul;

Anya, and her Cosmos.

Just like with Loid's Aster, Cosmos are also flowers associated with the stars, and have even been called "Mexican Asters." Which doesn't feel like an accident when Anya here is mimicking Loid's pose and holding the flower to her lips. And Cosmos have a very, VERY special meaning.

"Hold My Hand and Walk With Me"

[stu-dyingstudent]

One thing I love about Naruto is the use of ikebana, the art of Japanese flower arranging.

In the manga, Sakura gets Sasuke (and Lee) a singular daffodil while he spends time in the hospital recovering. She claims that in contrast to Ino’s declaration of love she feels Sasuke much better suits the daffodil. A resilient flower that flourishes all year despite the difficulties it faces.

Daffodils have many different meanings. Regard, chivalry, self love, a promise of a new beginning… when I think these varying symbolic associations I can’t help but agree with Sakura.

I’ve seen many fans declare that Sasuke’s eyes look like cherry blossoms, the sakura flower, but I disagree. His eyes are ones of daffodils. Sasuke learning the truth of the massacre, continuing to fight even after all of the troubles he’s faced throughout his life are proof of his persistence and strength. The way he was able to find himself again even after losing himself to revenge… He is just as Sakura said, a resilient man. He is one that I believe brings declarations of a new beginning with his hopes a making Konoha a place worthy of his brother’s sacrifice.

Just look in comparison of the two flowers to Sasuke’s mangekyou sharingan. His carry the same six petals and inner cup seen in daffodils rather than the five of cherry blossoms.

Tombirama himself proclaims that despite the clan seen as one fuelled by hatred they are really one driven by love. Love so powerful it consumes. Their sharingan being a representation of their heart. The way I see it, Sasuke’s eyes reflect his inner desire for change. They show not just his resilience, but also a promise that he will make a difference.

I suppose you could relate it back to Sakura as well… “patiently waiting for spring without bowing to the cold.” Sakura’s full name quite literally means “springfield of cherry blossoms.” After years of Sasuke living in cold, in hatred, once he was able to rise above his past grievances Sasuke was able to let Sakura, his spring, in. Perhaps you could say he was patiently waiting for love. Something the Uchiha clan holds deep.

[biblicallyaccuratecrow]

isat thoughts: the bright flower (flower symbolism makes me mentally ill)

[woe, spoilers be upon ye!]

So, the bright flower visually resembles a pansy. Which feels innocuous until you realize. Pansies are symbols of remembrance. Because it sounds a lot like the French pansées, meaning thoughts. And in Old English, it was referred to as ‘heartease’ because it was thought that carrying one around would remind the person that they were loved, truly and wholeheartedly, by the one who gave it to them.

Now. I want you to let that sit for a sec.

Siffrin gives every party member a flower. It’s a gift, a way of showing that he cares about them. That he loves them. Isabeau says that he’ll treasure it forever.

Bonnie asks why, and then looks at it sadly.

Mirabelle says that she’ll press it in a book to keep it forever.

Odile says that it’s proof.

Siffrin doesn't know what it's proof of, but... of course, it's proof that he loves them. And more than that- that he won't forget them. Even if they forget him. Even if this all meant more to him than it did to them.

Then there's the people outside the party.

Euphrasie can't accept it. She is stuck, like Siffrin. She won't remember. Can't remember.

The King takes it. Instead of asking if Siffrin remembers like he usually does at the start of the battle, he asks if they will remember him. No matter what you say, the battle still happens. But if you say no, the King laughs, and says that he'll remember Siffrin after they're defeated.

The King knows, then, what it symbolizes. Even if Siffrin doesn't.

When you try to give the flower to Loop, they refuse it. They refuse it, again and again, turning it towards other members of the party, to those more deserving of it.

And when they finally take it...they act like nothing happened. But they took it. Quite literally accepted a reminder of love the only person who can care about them.

Do with that information what you will, but...

If you take the flower in Act 5, you can pluck it. If you keep it until after the King, siffrin will remark that it's still there.

If you look at it during act 6, however, you get this.

(You still have the flower.)

(...)

(You guess it's yours, now!)

It's yours now. You don't give it to any of the party members.

It's a reminder of love. Not for the party- they know, now, far better than they ever could have before. No, it's for Siffrin themself.

A way to remember that you are loved.

anyways insert disc 5 you are mad and i am in pain, your days are numbered /j

[kateksmallcuteowl]

Page 2/3 of my BagginShield comic.

New headcanon: Hobbits take Floriography (flower language) very seriously. Dwarves have NO IDEA of it existence. Thorin just really picked up the tiniest and prettiest flowers he could find, because he thought Bilbo will like them.

And, yes, that’s a quote from Shrek in Thotin’s line🌚🌝 Why not?

I’m still trying new things with the style and colouring here, so I’ll be glad if you let me know what you think of it.

[mangakachan]

Hydrangeas are beautiful, elegant flowers, befitting the queen of the moon. But the flower’s symbolism, just like the fandom’s feelings towards Queen Serenity, aren’t always positive…

I find Queen Serenity to be an interesting character across the many medium that she has appeared in. Many people see her as a strong, wise, and loving mother who sealed away Nehelenia to protect her daughter, then years later sacrificed her life so that her child, her court, and Endymion could be reborn. Yet, she is also the one who forbid Pluto from ever leaving her post, and have the Inner Senshi take on the role of soldiers for her daughter when they’re still only children. As such, some fans adore her, while others dislike her for her perceived cold-heartedness.

The hydrangea shares a similar trait of having both positive and negative associations. In Japan (and more commonly in modern times) they symbolize apology, heartfelt emotions, wish for a deeper understanding, grace, rebirth, and love, depending on the flower’s color. But in Victorian times, due to the showy blossoms producing few seeds, hydrangeas were a symbol of frigidity, vanity, and singlehood. By all account Queen Serenity was a single mother, who only had a single child, thus making hydrangea a fitting flower for this beautiful but complex moon queen.

[thestarsloth]

Cool stuff to learn when you are bored that is actually really interesting and might come in handy:

how to recognise the stars and constellations and the myths behind them (if you go stargazing)

the victorian language of flowers (to send secret messages to your friends)

morse code (same as above, plus it could save your life)

how to survive in the wild (speaks for itself)

biology/animal/human anatomy (its just. so interesting)

differerent types of seashells (again really interesting)

poisonous plants and their uses (DO NOT POISON ANYONE THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEAN. but you can recognise if one plant is poisonous and. you know. save smb)

learn about other cultures (food, clothes, myths etc. always be respectful tho <3)

read philosophy

read the illiad or the odyssey (the real ones. its so interesting)

honestly anything you are interested in is so cool learning about!

[spinaroos-47]

Blue, the most human color

[falling-star-cygnus]

things i've noticed about HSR characters bc character design is my obsession

part two: 🎼Save a horse🎵 Ride a Cowboy🎶 ✨Boothill✨

who should i do next :D

his bullet earring and cartilage piercings [the bullet as a red chain link coming down from the hoop, kinda like when it first gets shot] -> also- if you zoom on his face too long he glares at you

it doesn't matter what direction you tilt his head, you cannot see his right eye clearly, this is the closest i got -> obviously this line was him joking about the cause of him being a cyborg, but i think he genuinely lost his right eye too. also- he's an optimist??

he's got air vents on his neck!!

Boothill's medals glow when you get victory stacks :D -> also they jingle every time you use his attack!! and look at his spurs!!

he's got a port on his left hand, to match the one on his back, but not his right. [are they connected? what does the one on his hand connect to?] -> i wonder if he can put bullets through the one on his hand and store them for later

his original name meant loaded gun, so that's pretty cool -> and pretty dark considering he was literally turned into a living weapon ['as always, he and his partners turned to guerrilla warfare 😃' has the same energy as 'so anyway, then i cursed her 😊.']

man's hips are OUT

anyway-

his hair is interesting to me. is it natural? his sixth eidolon has the interesting mix of black and white that it does currently, even though that's him as a human

wouldn't be cool if it was Marie Antoinette Syndrome? -> it can be caused by extreme stress and trauma to the body//mind, which you can't deny Boothill went through -> but it can also be caused by Alopecia Areata, which is a rare autoimmune disease that causes your cells to attack each other and target the pigment and structure of hair follicles [altho alopecia usually results in hair loss]

could the loss of his body, paired with how he was found as a baby, cause the discoloration of his hair?

also the leaves in his eidolon are most likely that of a tulip trees, which are symbols of freedom, liberty, and free speech [which he unfortunately does not have] -> Native Americans would often use the inner bark of these trees for medicinal purposes too!

they can also just be decaying leaves, representing the deteriorating state of his body

HC for the road: Argenti is the only one he’s let see his missing eye. He fully intended to try and scare the Knight of Beauty off, try to force him to admit that his body wasn’t all he praised it to be, but instead Argenti just cupped his face and repeated his praises

[odioart]

Floriography yammamoto tetsuya x odio colorful

[casketjones]

Alright, who wants some silly self indulgence that helps me pay rent!

https://ko-fi.com/c/8884d0f5d5

I am offering a new commission option on Ko-fi where I cuss your oc out with flowers.

See that girl and her charming little flower crown? It is calling her a dumb rude nasty little witch. I'm not even using witch to censor.

Dodder for Meanness Witch Hazel for Magic Barberry for Petulance Columbine for Folly Borage for Bluntness

What a shitter. Let me give your blorbo the business with silly Victorian coded garbage and fancy hats today! (I can also be nice, if you want that for some reason)

[ansitru]

Bless your sweet 'n innocent little heart, darlin' ~

--

FLORIOGRAPHY: - Aconitum napellus: a foe is near, deceit - Fumaria: hatred - Orange lilium: hatred, revenge - Ocimum basilicum: hatred - Black rose: hatred - Lotus corniculatus: revenge - Petunia - deep resentment, anger

[loosescrewslefty]

SWEAR TO GOD IF I EVER FIND OUT WHO'S RESPONSIBLE FOR THE FLORIOGRAPHY IN THE OWL HOUSE, MY AROMANTIC ASEXUAL ASS IS GONNA KISS THEM FULL RIGHT ON THE GODDAMN MOUTH.

The flowers we see right after the kids return to the Boiling Isles are Purple Columbines, which symbolize "the Resolve to Win" and if that looks and sounds familiar, it's because it's the first flower on my original TOH Floriography post, the first time floriography was used in the show, and the flower that was used to introduce us to Willow Park.

BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE!

The flowers we see growing when Willow is having her panic attack are Fuchsias.

In Floriography, these flowers symbolize "True Emotions," "Freeing Deep Emotions," and "Confiding Love." Which all tie in so goddamn perfectly with the scene that I am gonna be buzzing for WEEKS.

Also, Fuchsias DO have another meaning as well.

They are a way of telling someone- or in this case, a group of someones who enjoy a certain pairing, perhaps- that they have "Good Taste <3"

[jessicaroux]

Floriography in my spring garden 🌷 My book is published by Andrews McMeel, and you can find it wherever you like to get your books!

[spaceyaceface]

you are a wildflower garden growing in my head

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC/Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: None

Summary: When she learns that Ominis Gaunt is well versed in floriography, she insists on him giving her lessons to learn the language of flowers. Thankfully, he ins't too hard to convince. Requested by @applinsandoranges

A/N: I loved researching Floriography a bit (or maybe a lot) for this fic!!! I'm sure it's not perfect, but I tried my best to be as accurate as possible. Thank you thank you THANK YOU to applins for requesting, I loved writing this so much!!!

Normally, the courtyard was pretty quiet���it was what made it an ideal place to study in the early spring, when the snow had just finished melting and trees had started to bud. She and Ominis had made a habit of sitting out there in the late afternoons, when Sebastian was serving his various detentions. 

That day didn’t seem to qualify for normal. 

Everett Clopton was chasing after a weeping Adelaide Oakes, who had burst out into wailing tears mere moments ago. 

“Addie, what did I do wrong?” Everett shouted after her, the flowers he had given her left on the ground where he had thrown them. “I’m sorry! Come back!” 

The ruckus caused quite the stir in the courtyard, students looking up from their studies to watch the pair—she herself couldn’t help but stop her reading, observing them with a furrowed brow. 

“What was all that?” Ominis asked from beside her. 

“Everett Clopton just gave Adelaide Oakes some flowers, then she ran off crying,” she summarized quickly. “Pretty unexpected turn of events. I always thought she returned his feelings.” 

Ominis frowned. “What flowers did he give her?”

She took a closer look at the flowers laying on the ground, tilting her head a bit. “They’re petunias, I think.” 

The loud laugh from beside her caught her off guard—Ominis usually contained his amusement pretty well, especially in public, so his loss of composure made her brow furrow. “What on earth is so funny?” she asked, perplexed. 

Ominis sat himself back up, taking a deep breath. Small chuckles still escaped him, but he seemed to have control of himself now. “Petunias,” he began, “Mean anger and resentment. No wonder Adelaide was upset.” 

Her own lips turned up in the corners. “Seems like poor Everett didn’t have a clue,” she said. “But to be far, neither did I.” 

“I’m not surprised Adelaide caught on,” Ominis said. “Hufflepuffs are usually more inclined to plantlife, aren’t they?”

“I suppose,” she replied. “Hold on, how do you know the meaning of petunias?”

She didn’t miss the slightest blush that covered Ominis’s cheeks. “My sisters,” he answered. “It’s a form of sending messages that normally wouldn’t be allowed to be shared when properly courting. They’d receive bouquets from suitors and would sit and talk about their meanings for hours, speculating it from every angle. I grew a bit fascinated by it, and learned what I could about the subject flower meanings.” He gave a small smile. “I know much more than the meaning of petunias.”

She smiled, thinking of a young Ominis delving into such topics. She rarely heard him talk about things he was excited about, especially from when he was younger. There was a certain glow to his features when he did—one that fit beautifully with his handsome features. It was subtle; something people who’d spent less time observing Ominis would likely have missed. But she had become somewhat of an expert in the slight expressions on her friends face—likely due to the extended periods of time she found herself staring at him. It had only gotten worse as they grew closer—as her feelings for him became stronger. 

“How come you’ve never told me about any of it?” she asked. 

He shrugged. “You never asked.”

“Well, I’m asking now.” 

He chuckled, hands reaching for his textbook once more. “Fine then. I’ll give you a lesson in floriography. Just give me some time to prepare for it. We better finish our Potions homework in the meantime; Sebastian will need someone to copy off of later tonight.”

She sighed, but didn’t argue. She’d hold him to his lessons, she’d make sure of that. 

-

It took a few days of pestering him until he finally told her he’d teach her about flowers later in the afternoon. She agreed to meet him by the Black Lake—the spring had started to warm up, and being near the water seemed like a wonderful idea. 

When she trekked down to their meeting spot, her eyes widened a bit at the scene. No wonder he had wanted to take a bit of time to prepare—he’d gone out and gathered a wide variety of flora, each of them sitting around him. She couldn’t help but think that anyone who didn’t know of their intentions would have taken the scene as a romantic one. 

He heard her approach, smiling up at her and patting the ground beside where he sat. “My student has arrived.”

“You better not assign me homework,” she said, sitting down. She enjoyed the chuckle her comment drew out of him. 

“I’m sure you’re busy enough studying for N.E.W.T.S. already,” he said. 

She groaned. “God, don’t remind me. I came to escape that for a while.” 

“Well, hopefully I won’t take up too much space in your head with this useless information.”

“Hang on,” she protested. “Don’t go calling it useless. Seemed like Everett would have benefited greatly with this knowledge. Besides, who knows when I’ll have a secret message to decode?” 

He faced away from her, busying himself by grabbing a couple of the plants beside him. Was his face a bit flushed–? Surely not. It was perfectly clear when his head tilted toward her once more. 

“As you learned not long ago, not all flowers are fit for a display of love or affection.” He smiled a bit. “In fact, a lot of them have sentiments more akin to the opposite. For example…”

He reached to his side, pulling forward a cluster of small flowers, bright pink with white on the edges of the petals. “These are China Pinks, or Indian Pinks. I’ve been told they’re quite lovely. But looks can be deceiving, as the mean the giver has an aversion for the receiver.” 

She laughed a bit. “That would be a shock to receive, I’m sure.” 

He grinned. “Precisely. If one wanted to be a little less harsh in their message, one could instead give someone everflowering candytuft—”

“Candytuft?” she interrupted, giggling.

He shook his head in mock annoyance. “Yes, candytuft. Don’t be fooled by its sweet name, it means indifference.” He placed a white flower with many layers down in front of her. 

“Are all these flowers a way of telling me how you really feel about me?” 

Ominis laughed at that. “No, I just wanted to give you a sample of some of the things you can say. Those last two are just as untrue of my sentiments for you as the message this next one conveys.” He showed her a small white flower with a yellow center and red dot on each petal. 

“What’s that one mean? I’m going to burn down your house?” 

“It means ‘I die tomorrow.’”

Her jaw dropped, and she couldn’t help but let out a surprised laugh. “Do people really tell people things like that through flowers?”

Ominis shrugged, setting the flower aside. “They must, if it’s a well-known enough meaning.” 

“I’ll never look at flowers the same way again.” 

“They’re not all bad,” he promised. He continued with his lesson, bringing forth each flower he had brought. She listened to each one very attentively, thoroughly enjoying listening to him. He was right—it was a fascinating topic. She learned magnolias represented a love for nature. Mountain laurels stood for ambition. The colors mattered greatly, too—a red columbine meant anxious and trembling, while a purple one meant the giver was resolved to win.

By the time the sun came to rest on the horizon, her head was swimming with various names and meanings. They’d gone through all of the samples Ominis had brought her, and he seemed satisfied with the lesson he’d given her. 

“There better not be a test,” she said as he gathered up the flowers around them. He grinned. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not that cruel.”

The two of them stood, ready to be on their way. “I’ve got to visit Poppy about nifflers she says she spotted,” she told him, wishing she could spend the time it took to walk back to the castle with him. 

“Ah, of course. You and your beasts,” he said with a small smile. He shifted on his feet. “Before you go, I’d like you to have this.” 

He handed her a large red flower, tall and curving with strange petals sticking up all down the length of it. She took it from him, brows furrowed. “I don’t remember what this one meant. You haven’t showed it to me yet, have you?” 

“Not yet, no,” he said, voice quiet. 

“What’s it mean?” 

He smiled at her softly. “I’ll tell you soon enough.” 

And with that, he headed off toward the castle. 

-

She really tried not to think too much about the large flower occupying the vase in her dorm room over the next several days. Tried being the key word. Every time she walked into her room and saw it, she couldn’t help the slight flip of her stomach, remembering the slight blush Ominis had sported while handing it to her. 

Surely it was something simple and lighthearted. Surely it was some sort of jab or joke, and not any sort of… confession. He had spent that whole lesson talking about what flowers meant outside of romance, hadn’t he? Why would the gift he gave her at the end be any different?

Even so, she found herself checking out a book on floriography at the library, trying to learn the secret message he’d given her. So far she’d learned nothing of it. 

It didn’t mean she didn’t learn anything, though. 

It had taken them several days to find time for another one of their little lessons, with actual studies taking the unfortunate priority. But they promised to squeeze it in on a Saturday morning just before lunch. She’d woken up early to locate one of the things she’d latched onto while reading her book—a variegated tulip. 

Beautiful eyes, the book had told her. She figured if he got to tantalize her by giving her that flower, the least she could do was try to flatter him a bit into telling her. She hoped it wasn’t too forward; she’d told him his eyes were lovely before, but to do so in a language so dear to him—well, it just felt a bit intimate. 

In any case, she found herself headed to the very same shore of the Black Lake, seeing a scene much like the first time they had met there. Ominis sat there with a group of flowers, but this time, they were all bunched together, forming a mis-match bouquet. 

She grinned as she plopped down beside him, tulip tucked away. “That looks lovely.”

Ominis chuckled. “I hope so. All I know is it smells pretty decent.” 

“Is that how you tell all of them apart?” she asked. “The scent?”

He nodded. “That and the texture of the petals. Though I’ve gotten used to using my nose first—I’ve ruined a good number of flowers by manhandling them.” 

She laughed. “It’s a bouquet this time.” 

“Very observant of you,” he teased. She gave him a gentle shove in response, making him laugh. “Don’t abuse your teacher!”

“Don’t patronize your student,” she said, grinning. 

He shook his head. “As my amazingly brilliant and very astute student pointed out, I’m holding a bouquet—” she shoved him again— “which will be the focus of our lesson today.” 

“Permission to leave class early?”

“No.”

“Fine.” 

He chuckled, his fingers beginning to gently run along the different flowers he held in the bunch. “Last time we went over some of the more specific and less used meanings. Today I’m hoping to touch on some of the more common flowers, ones you’d be more likely to come across.”

“Sounds practical.”

“Precisely. I’ve gathered them in a bouquet for you—often times you’ll receive a bouquet so the sender can express more complex feelings, allowing the combination to give a better overview of their emotions and perception of you. So let’s dive in.” 

His finger pointed out a stem holding a few small white flowers. “These are white bell flowers, an expression of gratitude.” 

She hummed. “I like those ones. They’re pretty.” 

He smiled and nodded, turning the bouquet. “Here are oak-leaved geraniums, meaning true friendship.” 

She tilted her head, scooting a bit closer to him for a better look at the pink petals. “How sweet,” she said, smiling. 

His ears went a little red. “The next one needs a bit of an explanation as to why I included it in your bouquet, but—”

“Wait, my bouquet?” she asked. 

“Yes, your bouquet,” he said, red spreading to his cheeks and across his nose. “Now let me continue.” 

“I… carry on, then.” 

His fingers ran over the flowers he’d been indicating once more. “Water willows are representative of freedom. You’re always running off to some place, despite all the rules you should follow, so… freedom.” 

She nodded beside him. “That makes sense.”

He continued on, explaining the reasoning of each flower there in her bouquet. Each one made her heart beat a little faster—he’d spent all that time, thinking of her, picking out exactly the right words to describe her and what she meant to him. It left her grinning like an idiot as she tried to remember each and every thing he said. None of the things he brought up trailed into the realm of romance, but she didn’t need it to. Not now, at least. It was perfect, just as it was. 

“And there you have it,” he said finally. “Your bouquet.” He held it out to her, tilting his head away from her a bit. 

“I… I don’t know what to say, Ominis,” she said, taking it from him and holding it gently. “This is… you’re too kind.” 

“You don’t need to say anything,” he said quickly. “I thought a… demonstration would be best, to help you learn about it. Sorry if I overstepped—”

“You didn’t overstep anything,” she said. “I’m just glad I at least have something to give you in return. I’m sorry it’s not a full bouquet, but it’ll have to do.”

She pulled out her tulip, which looked a little pitiful next to his varied display. But she pressed it into his hand. He felt up the stem gently, and then froze.

“Is… is this a tulip?” he asked quietly. “What color is it?”

She furrowed her brows at his reaction. “It is. It’s a variegated tulip.” 

He let out a breath he must have been holding, a small smile coming to his face. “Beautiful eyes,” he said softly. “Thank you.” 

She couldn’t help but think his smile had a strange tainted emotion behind it—one she couldn’t quite grasp. “You’re welcome. Sorry it isn’t much.”

He tilted his head in her direction. “It’s perfect.” 

-

She couldn’t help thinking about Ominis’s reaction to her tulip the rest of the day. Something about it bothered her—the way he froze up at first, the strange tension in his voice. 

It wasn’t until she looked back at her book on floriography she thought she understood why. 

She’d looked back at the page on the variegated tulip, trying to see if there was something she missed, when her eyes drifted up to the entry just above it. 

Tulip; Red - Declaration of Love. 

Her stomach churned. That had to be it. Ominis had no way of knowing what color tulip she had handed him. For all he knew, she’d been about to confess her feelings to him. 

But had he been full of dread or excitement?

She racked her brain, trying to recall every last detail of his words, he tones, his movements. But to no avail. She was just as clueless of his feelings for her as before

The coming days didn’t help, either. As much as she tried to observe the way he interacted with her, all she learned was… well, that she loved him. She already knew that, of course. But she kept being reminded of all the little reasons why. 

Like the way he whispered snarky jokes to her in class. The way he smiled so slightly when he was amused. The way he walked her to class, even it made him late to his own. Everything about him, really. 

She loved that he made the time to have one final lesson, right before N.E.W.T.S., too. 

Being so sure of her feelings now, she decided to take a risk. Which was why, before she left for the Black Lake, she tucked a red tulip into the pocket of her robes. 

Maybe she’d use it. It was still up for debate—but she’d have it ready if there was even a chance he might feel the same. 

When she arrived at their meeting spot, Ominis was fiddling with the flowers around him. Much like the first time, they laid sprawled out, ready to be dealt with one by one. She came and sat across from him, smiling. “Well, here I am, at my final lesson,” she said. 

He chuckled. “I hope I’ve been a sufficient teacher.”

“We’ll see if I pass the test.” 

He let the smile linger on his face for a moment before moving to one of the first flowers beside him. “I feel like I’ve done a proper job of informing you the uses of flora outside of romance—however, it doesn’t mean it’s still not a large part of it.” 

The flower he held twirled in his fingers. She felt her cheeks heat up a bit—no, she couldn’t get too excited about this. Just because they were talking about love and affection didn’t mean…

“I feel like it’s an important section to cover,” she said, still eyeing the flower he held—pink with drooping petals. 

He nodded. “Extremely. This one I’m holding is a bit… well, dramatic, I suppose. But it conveys the giver’s message pretty clearly. Justicia—the perfection of female loveliness.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Very clearly. I assume you only give it if you really mean to court someone?” 

“Precisely. Would you mind holding it for me?” 

Before she could reply, he pressed the stem into her hand, all but forcing her to take it. She grasped without much thought, as Ominis was already reaching for the next flower. He held up the cluster of small flowers, smiling. “Here we have Peruvian heliotrope. It signifies unwavering devotion.”

He held it out to her, and she took it without a word. He continued on, not missing a beat. The next thing he held was not a flower at all—but he was quick to explain. “Cedar leaf,” he said. “Perhaps not a flower like the others, but it expresses the proper messages. I… I live for thee.” 

There was a tone in his voice that had changed dramatically from when he was simply giving her explanations. A distinct shift that made it hard for her to breathe. One that made her hand feel like it was burning where his fingers brushed against his as he handed her the leaf. 

“Everlasting,” he named, holding a bright burst of yellow and orange petals, “Never-ceasing remembrance.” 

It was added to her growing bouquet. 

He picked up the final flower she saw, a lovely little pink thing, taking the shape of a ball. “Globe amaranth. It has two meanings. Immortality, for the first. But the one I’d like to emphasis is unfading love.”

She sucked in a breath. The petals shook a bit, resulting from his trembling hand. Before he handed it to her, he reached behind him, pulling out a flower that he had let lay concealed there. 

“You’ll recognize this one,” he said softly. She did. The flower he had given her on that very first lesson—the one he told her she’d learn about in due time. It seemed that the time had come. “Honey flower. Love sweet and secret.” 

He felt the same. He had this entire time. He’d sat with her, day after day of studying and laughing, all the while letting his heart beat for her. It filled with with a joy she had never known—one she was determined to never let go off. 

She looked up at his face, jaw tense, and she realized her silence at his confession must be excruciating. She reached forward, taking the flowers from his hands and adding it to her perfect collection before setting it aside. “You mean it, Ominis?” she asked, hoping she had not taken this all ridiculously out of turn. It was relief when he answered in a quiet voice. 

“Every word.” 

She grinned, taking one of his hands in her own before reaching for the pocket of her robe. The flower was still intact—a small miracle she was glad had occurred. “You’ve been an absolutely amazing teacher,” she said, guiding his hand to take the tulip. He wrapped his fingers around it, brows furrowing. “For one, I now know how important colors are when it comes to deciphering meanings.”  She leaned closer, voice coming out as almost a whisper. “I’ve brought another tulip for you. But this one is red.” 

His face lit up in an instant, lips reaching up to spread into the most beautiful smile. The flower was set aside, for his hands found something much more important to do. He placed them on either side of her face, fingers tracing over her cheeks. She held his wrists, letting him lead her closer and closer, until there was no distance left at all. 

The breeze blew softly over them, carrying the floral scent with it. She’d love that smell for the rest of her life, she was sure—because it would always remind her of the way his lips felt on hers. 

[7pleiades7]

Love's Shadow (1867) by Frederick Sandys (British, 1829–1904), oil on panel, 40.6 × 32.5 cm, Private Collection