#devils trumpet meaning

[starker-sorbet]

⚘ Devil's Trumpet ⚘ - symbolizes power and caution

Husbands Peter and Tony ruling the criminal underworld with iron fists

[strawberrymothteeth]

A cage is still a cage little songbird. for @pluck-heartstrings Pluck My Heartstrings AU

here are some close ups! it is a really good fic y'all should give it a read if you haven't.

[lightyearssurrogatedaddy]

Dream worries for Ink's safety, reasonably so, that flower's a trip.

[oddarette]

Okay, last in my native California plants project. Sacred Datura, sometimes called devils trumpets. Highly toxic and hallucinogenic, but damn is it pretty. Side note, I recently got an idea that means I’ll have to revisit this series some day, whoops.

[auspicioustidings]

Devil's Trumpet

AKA the Appalachian horror brain worms would not leave me alone

Summary: You move to small town West Virginia to get your head on straight but the men in the woods start unravelling you instead.

Words: 3.5k

CWs: mild horror, vague reference to mental illness

This is best read while listening to some Southern gothic tunes 🎶 I suggest Big Dark Love by Murder by Death!

Colour leeched out of the world here. There is something almost comforting about that, something familiar. Familiar too is the way this town moves like syrup too thick to be pleasant in your mouth. It was how you moved though the world once. Not anymore though, no, now your mind is your own and not an invading force. Now you can appreciate the drab slowness as something external to yourself, just an environment around you and not a prison closing in inside your head.

There wasn’t much of a plan really. A will reading that left you with not a lot, but enough to get the hell out. Signing with a fountain pen that made your skin crawl with how it scratched. A stiff drink and a dart thrown at a map and tearing a ragged hole in the Greenbrier River as the sharp point didn’t quite sink far enough into the board and tore its way through the paper on the way down. You were never any good at darts.

You aren’t putting down roots. Those were for old growth, not for hardy weeds that broke through concrete and always found another crack through which to grow when killed. Nothing that felt too much like a home, so instead a room at the only inn.

This town is too small to warrant one, but it doubles as a watering hole come evening. It doesn’t seem to have been updated in an age, you wonder idly if the plaque upkept to a gleaming shine declaring the inn to have been opened in 1824 is somehow conveying pride at the fact. The peeling wallpaper in your room was probably pretty once, but the green now seems sick with age and the delicate floral pattern has started to wilt.

There is no routine to your days here until one slowly creeps in as it always does.

Breakfast first. You don’t know if it’s something in the air here, but you wake up with a bitter taste in your mouth and are eager to drown it in food and mint toothpaste. The inn has a small kitchenette for guest use and you make yourself toast with butter and strawberry jam. It’s a little too sweet but the tea helps, black with no sugar.

You stretch out the back of the inn and enjoy the view of the woods. You don’t call it yoga because it makes you less likely to do it, but you had learned when things were bad that quietly engaging your body in the morning was a good way to quiet your mind. There’s a little tension in the back of your neck you try to work out but it sticks there until you finish up and go back inside to shower. The hot water fixes it you think.

The first few weeks here you just sit and watch the world go by, but then you one day you decide to get up and spend some time wandering the town. It’s small, decrepit. There is the inn, a few sparse houses, one general store. The library, despite being the only venue with any chance of entertainment, is usually empty. You meet Mrs Lela Kaletaws who runs it, although she isn’t always around.

Roads here are barely holding together, but the one main road that runs out of town is at least in somewhat better condition. It runs parallel with the woods at one point, curving off just past old Mr Kleer's house. The man in question usually sits on his porch but he’s friendly enough so you don’t pay much mind to the gun.

After you’ve wandered town you make sandwiches for lunch. It isn’t much exciting, but it is routine and is filling enough that you bunker down for a nap after.

In the afternoon you go for a long walk before returning to the inn for dinner. There is a bar downstairs that opens in the evenings and serves food that while not a delicacy by any means is hot and filling. You retire to your room, read some of your book and go to sleep.

It continues that way. Breakfast, stretch, shower, wander, lunch, sleep, walk, dinner, read, sleep.

At first you only really skirt the edge of the woods, but with each passing dreary day you venture closer to the depths down the packed dirt path. The path through the woods is confusing and unmarked. Where you swore just yesterday it went to the right, today it goes to the left. Even so it must be your sense of direction, because the path always leads you past the jimsonweeds that come up to you chest before spitting you out on the road that leads to old Mr Kleer's house. The flowers are beautiful, but there is some metallic tang to their otherwise sweet scent that causes your teeth to ache.

—

More comfortable with the area now, it causes a fright when you see a man in the woods just in the corner of your eye only to snap your head around and have him vanish. You force calming breathes and keep walking. There is no such thing as ghosts in these woods.

Old man Axell calls to you from his porch as you pass, rifle butt settled on the rickety wood that you worry will collapse and left leg stretched straight out towards you like reaching for something.

“Seeing things in the woods kid?”

“I look spooked sir?”

“Like you’ve seen a Ghost I reckon.”

You give a shaky laugh at that.

“Only if ghosts come in flesh and blood and quick feet. Some man gave me a fright is all.”

“Must be out of towners” Axell says.

You do not like the way he says it. You do not like that he looks at you strangely. But you smile and nod and get on your way. He is only an old man.

—

There is someone in the woods. You feel his gaze on you, feel the dull prickle that rests on your nape from those eyes.

“We really must stop meeting like this” you say.

You have stopped trying to catch him. Now you only speak, eyes set on the dirt path in front of you. You do not think you will get a reply and when you do you shudder horribly at how much closer the voice is than you had anticipated.

“Don’t enjoy the company?”

He’s English and you frown. Out of towner. The old man must know something, but maybe you cannot begrudge him having fun at your expense. You have not made friends here.

“Enjoy company where I can see it if it’s all the same to you.”

The man laughs. It is a confusing laugh, warm and cold all at once as it bounces through the trees.

“Careful what you wish for.”

You resist the urge to turn even as his voice moves strangely, like he is swaying from one side of the path to the other.

“Must have a face like sin to keep hiding away” you say.

The next words you can feel. His breath is right at your cheek, a strand of your hair lifted by his fingers.

“Quite the opposite.”

Your heart is a prey animal running from a predator, beating wildly against your ribs as you turn to find he isn’t there. Only you certainly felt him. He leaves a sweet smell behind.

—

Sleep does not come easily that night. The rain against your window casts the moonlight strangely into your room. You spend hours watching as the creeping vines on the wallpaper seem to twist and shift beneath the moon flowers. When you finally fall asleep, it is almost as if you can smell them. Sweet and slightly metallic.

You wake up with the fading scent of damp earth and something on the edge of rot in your nose and the feel of dirt packed uncomfortably under your nails. They’re clean you find, but you spend the start of the morning cutting them down once you see the fading scratches left on your arms and legs through the night.

—

He is not the only stranger in the woods. You swore you would not go back, but routine takes you there without thought.

The Scottish man likes to walk on your right hand side, just enough steps behind you that you can only see him at the very side of your vision. You think he is handsome, but it is difficult to be sure. What you can be sure of is that he is dressed oddly. You have spoken to him for a while now, discussing yourself mostly. Perhaps it is the eerie quiet of the woods that makes you want to fill the dead space, but you tell him more about yourself than you ever would have thought yourself comfortable with.

“Are you a soldier then?” you ask.

“Sometimes, I think.”

You take a moment to chew that answer, wonder at the taste of it. There is a panic when you smell blood on the air, but it is quickly blanketed by sweetness. You have reached the jimsonweeds. It is too early, you have not walked far enough to be here already. But before you can protest the steps to your right stop and you know the man is gone.

None of them ever come farther than this.

—

You try the next day and the next to get answers from him. He seems to make a decision at one point just as the familiar smell reaches you and you think you will leave with no more information than you had before.

“I’m SAS.”

He is not there when you turn to thank him. He is not there at all when you return the next day.

—

The library run by Mrs Kaletaws is added to your routine. Breakfast, stretch, shower, library, lunch, try to sleep, walk, dinner, read, try to sleep. The small building has the peculiar addition of a cat you never quite see. You hear the skitter of claws on worn wood floor that has started to smell of sickly sweet rot, see fading scratches on the legs and arms of the chair, find hairs on your clothing, feel the prickle of eyes focused on you from the dark running up your spine to settle dully on the back of your neck. You have tried before to get a glimpse of the creature, but it only seems to exist in the very corner of your eye and retreats when your gaze tries to creep around to catch it.

Lela never talks about the cat. She told you once that it is only her and her wife that live in the basement below the library. You have never seen her wife and fear she must have some permanent sickness that stops her from being able to do much. You think they should move above ground so she can at least see the world through the windows obscured by racing raindrops, but you keep it to yourself.

The one computer here is old, the white plastic exterior now yellowed. Still, it is the only gateway to the outside world in this little town and you blow at your tea while waiting for your search results. ‘SAS military bases in West Virginia’ is a shot in the dark, but you need to start somewhere. After a sip you dump more sugar into your cup before looking at your finally loaded results.

There are none. No British military installations at all in the USA. You had hoped at least the results would bring up something about training exercises but it is just pages of useless information about bases around the world. You read about the SAS, fall down a rabbit hole of how they torture their soldiers to train them to withstand it. You go through pages and pages of search results until finally one talks about SAS soldiers in this area.

The link takes you to a dusty website that stopped being updated sometime in the late 90s. It’s some sort of conspiracy blog and you are prepared to close it, but you can’t help but get lost in the story it tells.

The details are unclear which you suppose is the hallmark of any good conspiracy. 40 years ago. There was a team of two, or maybe four or maybe seven. They set up just outside the woods with little to no explanation. There’s an interview from a local, not a name you recognise so one you think is likely long dead. She says two of the soldiers went into the woods first. She remembers something bad must have happened, because there was an argument between the five left outside. Nobody was allowed close, but she watched two more men go into the woods. After that the operation seemed to vanish entirely overnight and nobody heard anything more about it.

Whoever authored the blog has a gift with words because despite your logical mind knowing it was probably nothing but a random training exercise, the hairs on the back of your neck raise.

There is a photo of the alleged unit at the end loading slowly. You stare in fascination as line by line appears from the top. The world stops before it fully loads. At first you are confused as to why your whole body is tense, why your heart is racing. And then you figure it out. Silence. Complete and all together sudden silence. No rain hitting the windows, no scratching of the cat echoing, not even the whir of the computer.

You do not want to look away from the screen. You do not want to turn around. The prickle on your neck goes from dull to sharp.

The computer powers down.

—

He says to call him John. This man does not walk to your right like the Scottish one, or behind you like the first one you met. He walks in front of you. You can see the full expanse of his back clad in a vest. He wears a hat. He only ever turns slightly, enough to see that he has sideburns but never enough to see his face.

You are so enraptured by being able to see so much of him so clearly that it takes you a while to notice there is someone on your left. A few steps behind like the Scottish one does on your right. It takes you by surprise enough that you are about to forget the unspoken rules and turn, but John predicts your move.

“Eyes forward.”

“Sorry” you say automatically, fixing you eyes to his back and letting the other man stay as the impression of a creature just in sight of your left eye.

“They’re pretty, Captain.”

“I’m aware.”

It should not make you blush but somehow it does.

“What’s you name?” you ask.

There is no way to direct it specifically to the man on your left, so you simple direct it to the back of John and hope that the trees will send it where it needs to go.

“Captain?” the man asks, not for permission but as if genuinely unsure of the answer.

“Kyle, your name’s Kyle.”

“Right. Kyle.”

You catch the movement of him touching his chest, maybe rubbing at a name tag there but you can’t be sure.

“You can call me Gaz if you like.”

John and Gaz are your company for weeks. Whenever you ask after the other two, the air turns sweet and bloody and you are left alone among the jimsonweeds.

—

“Got intae trouble for ye.”

You’re not sure where you are but you recognise the voice. Is he in your room?

“We both did. Curiosity would’ve killed you little kitten,” comes the other voice from the first man in the woods somewhere behind you.

You hazily look down at yourself. You are not in the bed at the inn, you are in another bed laid on your back. You feel your legs brush against one another, not clad in the flannel you remembered wearing. Silk, you are wearing silk. Delicate against your skin, not much of it. Were you wearing perfume? Something smells sweet.

As you stare at the bare expanse of your leg a hand sinks into your thigh, squeezes.

“Fuck LT, so soft. Fingers just sink right in.”

You fight the urge to look to the right where the hand is coming from. You can’t look, some primal part of your brain knows you cannot look.

“Stay away from the woods” the man behind you whispers into your ear like a caress as his hands settle gently around your neck.

You do not feel the snap of bone, but you hear it. You taste the blood in your mouth.

You do not manage to fall back asleep when you wake.

—

Breakfast, library, try to sleep, don’t go into the woods, dinner, try to sleep, stare at the wallpaper, try to sleep.

—

You overhear Axell and Lela once. You think they are talking about you.

“You think we’re doing the right thing?” Axell asks.

“I don’t think there is a right thing anymore.”

“It’s been a long time now. Maybe we should let them go.”

“You think we could?”

There is a silence. Neither of them thinks so. Paranoia settles over you that you haven’t felt since back when things got bad. It’s like an old vice settling into your bones, or maybe seeping out of them as if it never truly left. You cannot go back to that place again so you take some aspirin for the rhythmic pulsing behind your eyes and the dull prickle at the back of your neck and resolve to put any thoughts of conspiracy out of your mind. Lela and Axell are simply old, there is not something they know that you do not.

—

You do not mean to walk into the woods again. The man behind you is back. He feels different somehow.

“I could eat you right up” he says against your neck.

Old Mr Kleer sees the bloodied bite at your throat and says nothing as you walk by.

—

You book a bus ticket. It feels too much like there are tendrils growing from you to burrow into the ground, to fix you here. If you don’t rip them out now, it is only a matter of time until the roots are so deep you won’t be strong enough to move. You aren’t eating properly, you’ve hardly slept and when you do you wake up with a bitter taste in your mouth and covered in scratches. There is still the shape of a bite on your throat and the B&B owners in Pennsylvania look at you with pity as you check in.

The building is charming and fairly new. You stare at the neutral pink wallpaper. One corner of it has lifted ever so slightly. You fall asleep staring at the peek of green underneath.

—

It doesn’t rain as much here, the sun is out and everything seems more colourful. Weeks pass in a haze and you slowly emerge again, eating properly, sleeping through the night. The town on the Greenbrier starts to fade to an unpleasant dream.

—

There is something comforting about the old man who comes to stay and sits by you for breakfast in the mornings. He has the remnants of a Russian accent and laughs frequently and easily. The stories he tells are fantastical, but he’s non-committal about his visit to small town Pennsylvania although he at least tells you that he likes the nature around here. He whispers that his legs aren’t up for much walking anymore, so he has to take the easy paths through small patches of nature.

It takes a week or so more to work up the courage to accompany him on a walk. It seems silly, but the woods make you feel afraid. Maybe a short walk through the small area he spoke of will help you get beyond it. You rub at your neck, feeling the marks faded but still there.

—

He notices your discomfort and tries to ease it with his stories as you walk the dirt path.

“It’s the most important thing I’ve learned you know” he says, the aching grief in his voice causing you pause, “you cannot leave friends behind.”

You turn to him, intending to ask how much longer the path leads since it is getting dark now. He is not there.

“Nik?” you ask, calm at first but increasingly more frantic.

That old familiar dull prickle settles on the back of your neck as you run back down the way you came to get out of the woods. Drooping tree limbs get in your way and you push through, ignoring the scratches. As darkness falls you slow to a walk, unable to see anything in front of you. You catch the smell the sweetness of the jimsonweeds. You can smell blood.

Foot steps that are not your own surround you. A set in front of you. One behind. To the left and to the right.

“Welcome home.”

[icycoldninja]

hihi!! may i pretty please request some sparda boys + v x musician reader, preferably a pianist or vocalist? would greatly appreciate it i love love love your hcs so much

Yup yup, here you go!

Sparda boys + V x Musician!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

Oh, you've hit the jackpot. Dante loves listening to and playing music; the fact that you're a musician makes it all better.

-Hopefully you play the drums, bass guitar, keyboard, or something like that because Dante rocks the electric guitar.

-If you're a singer, great, Dante will try to start up a 2-person band.

-It probably won't work, but he doesn't care, he just wants an excuse to hang out with his favorite person.

-You and Dante will have a blast jamming together in the lobby of Devil May Cry, pissing off all your neighbors, upsetting Vergil, and scaring off any potential clients.

-You two are an incredibly loud and badass duo, whose music career will probably never take off, but whatever, you only make music because it's fun.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil is a sophisticated man who appreciates the finer things in life, like classical music.

-He plays the violin himself, so if you play something equally elegant such as the piano, flute, cello, or something like that, he would love it.

-You two could also have jam sessions, except more refined and delicate.

-If you're a good singer, that would be so cool because then Vergil could hav someone sing lyrics while he plays the violin. Of course, he'll have to write the lyrics, (poetry skills finally paying off) but that's just more fun.

-If you happen to play the flute or trumpet very well, you can scare the crap out of Dante by playing mystical music in the middle of the night, making him wonder if Devil May Cry is haunted.

-Or you could serenade Vergil with magical fairytale music and possibly lull him to sleep in the process--whatever works for you.

□ Nero □

-Nero likes heavy metal music with lots of drums, so if you know how to play those, great for you.

-He actually knows a little bit about operating a synthesizer, but nothing more. If you could teach him, that'd be nice.

-He'd love to pick up guitar, but he's way too rough with it and his fingers aren't delicate enough for picking. He actually snapped a couple of strings the first time he tried.

-Nero is also a pretty decent singer. He doesn't have the vocal chords of Freddy Mercury, but he can at least hit high notes pretty well.

-If you are also blessed with awesome singing skills, expect regular karoeke dates, where you and Nero rock out to metal songs, rock songs, and occasionally love ballads.

-Honestly, you two have a better chance at succeeding in the music industry than anyone else mentioned on this list. You two just need a guitarist, maybe a bassist, and you're set.

● V ●

-V, being part of Vergil, enjoys classical music more than anything else--but that doesn't mean he dislikes other types of music.

-V has a secret fascination with pop songs that he just can't understand. Perhaps it's because he's never heard such music before, maybe it's because he just likes the bouncy beats, or maybe it's because he's just a dork.

-Since he is a competent poet, he can easily write lyrics for you, should you happen to be a singer.

-He would love to learn the piano, so if you are able to play, please teach him.

-If you play a string instrument like a violin, guitar, or something like that, V would love to just sit and watch you practice. It's oddly calming.

-If you can play the flute, tuba, or some other similar instrument, he will enjoy observing you play.

[srbachchan]

DAY 5879

Jalsa, Mumbai Mar 23/24, 2024 Sat/Sun 10:23 AM

🪔 ,

March 24 .. birthday greetings to Ef AMIT Trivedi .. 🙏🏻🚩❤️

..

March 24 .. World TB Day .. prayers .. 🙏🏻

Spending the time with the words of Babuji is not just an education but a revelation of a poet's mind and soul .. a mind that wanders in the visionary hemisphere unknown and unseen in a relative World, but yet possessing the intelligence of the probability of a higher philosophy ..

For it all to come to me now , is a shame .. a shame of lost opportunity and time to have been spent in the research and his presence to be able to understand the deeper meanings in his thought ..

I did on the odd occasion give intent of his interpretation and reason for many of his thoughts .. and they were most revealing .. but then .. time passed away .. as did his presence ..

It is a known and accepted fact that genius of creative art, writing, painting, music or whatever form, has always been overlooked and never given its due during the lifetime of the artist .. and it has been recognised fact of this phenomena that coerces me to, yet again , mention here for consumption of the mass ..

A pity ..

But the efforts of time , or whatever is left in it for me , shall endeavour to give some exposure to Babuji's works and his incredible genius ..

The World has very seldom seen or experienced the greatness of such ..

Last night I spent time on one such random thought of his from a published work :

नई से नई, पुरानी से पुरानी

it contains works of his in short verses, or abstract from , blank verse - short and expressive , but of immense value for us all to think and wonder of how certain thoughts and the express of them , do get created ..

The title of the Poem :

KAVI KA RAKT .. A POETS’ BLOOD

meri band mutthiyaan dekhkar .. seeing my closed fists jis-jis ne mujhse poocha, .. all those that asked me “ismein kya hai” ? .. ‘what is inside them’ ? maine imaandaari se bataya , .. i told them with all honesty “ismein kya hai ? .. ‘what is in them ismein kadamb ka phool hai “ .. in them is the kadamb flower ? "(Neolamarckia cadamba, with English common names burflower-tree, laran, and Leichhardt pine,[2] and called kadam or cadamba[2]) aur logon ne is par .. and the people on this sahaj vishwaas kar liya .. did keep their instinctive believe

vo to jab .. that is, when meri mutthiyaan se .. from my clenched fists rakt ki boondein choone lagein .. drops of blood did start to drop tab logon ne mujhe avishwaas ki nazaron se ghoora, .. then, did the people did stare at me in disbelief mujhse kaha .. and they told me “mutthiyaan to kholo ।” "at least open your fists" aur jab maine mutthiyaan kholein .. and when I did open my clenched fists to unmein .. in them kantkeela dhature ka pahal nikala । .. did come out the thorn laden datura fruit !

(Datura is a genus of nine species of highly poisonous, vespertine-flowering plants belonging to the nightshade family. They are commonly known as thornapples or jimsonweeds, but are also known as devil's trumpets. Other English common names include moonflower, devil's weed, and hell's bells.)

main sharmaya, .. I was ashamed mera jhoot pakda gaya ,.. my lie was caught mujhe apne par aashcharya hua, .. I was filled with wonder , kyunki maine apni ankhein kholkar .. because I had with my open eyes kadamb ka phool apni mutthiyon mein liya tha । .. taken the kadamb flower in my clenched fists !

shayad mai apni bhavatishayata mein ।.. perhaps in the belief of my aatma , the self , the soul kante ko phool samjha, .. I thought the thorns to be a flower par kaanta , kaanta hi kaise reh gaya , .. but how did the thorn , remain a thorn phool kyun nahin bana , .. why did it not become a flower usnein toh ek kavi ka rakt piya tha । .. it had consumed the blood of a poet !!

the word भावा ति शय यता , bhavatishayyata seems to have been taken from a form of the mention in the scriptures of Hindu philosophy, saints and religion , which is why i believe it refers to his aatma, his soul , his inner .. perhaps a more 'cultured way' 😁 of expressing his thoughts ..

DATURA

KADAMB .. CADAMBA 👆🏼

My love and more ..

Amitabh Bachchan

[frostfires-blog]

Kusuriya no Hitorigoto Part 2: OP2 Ambivalent

┏ · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ┓

-> 2.1) Thornapple

The 1st flower showcased in the second opening is the Thornapple (Datura sp.), commonly known as the Moonflower and Devil's trumpet. Thornapple flowers are also shown in Episode 20 of the anime. Thornapple species are all exceedingly poisonous and psychoactive, particularly the seeds and flowers, which can cause respiratory depression, arrhythmias, fever, delirium, hallucinations, anticholinergic syndrome, psychosis, and death when ingested. In Japan, thornapple is called mandarake (曼荼羅華) and symbolises charm, false charm, dreaming and “intoxicating you” in hanakotoba. Its representation of charm is supposedly derived from the trumpet-like shape of its flowers—while its symbolism of false charm and intoxication stems from its severe toxicity. In Western floriography, thornapples symbolise power, caution, transformation and transition. Thornapples are also said to represent the cycle of life, death, and rebirth.

-> 2.2) Blue Roses

The 2nd set of flowers shown in the second opening are blue roses. These flowers are also featured in episodes 22, 23, and 24—with episode 22 highlighting Maomao's struggles to cultivate blue roses. Canonically blue roses are mostly commonly associated with Lakkan and Fengxian’s relationship. Blue roses do not occur naturally and are a product of human cultivation methods. For ages, botanists and scientists have been obsessed with obtaining blue roses. This unattainability has profoundly affected the symbolic meanings of blue roses worldwide. In Japan, blue roses are called aoi bara (青いバラ) or aoi soubi ( 青い薔薇). They represent dream fulfilment, miracles, impossibility and “blessings of God” in hanakotoba. In Western floriography, blue roses represent mystery, rarity, creativity and attaining the impossible. They are also associated with love at first sight, longing, captivating beauty and unattainable love. They are a powerful symbol of precious and unreachable love and are ideal for conveying deep and complex emotions.

-> 2.3) Rose Balsam

The 3rd flower depicted in the second opening is the rose balsam (Impatiens balsamina)—commonly known as garden balsam, spotted snapweed, and touch-me-not. Rose balsam is also featured in episodes 23 and 24, where it is primarily associated with Maomao's mother, Fengxian. In Japan, rose balsam is known as hōsenka (鳳仙花) and symbolises "don't touch me," short temper, and vivaciousness in hanakotoba. Its Japanese name is a phonetic interpretation of its Chinese name and is derived from the flower's shape—which is thought to resemble the mythological phoenix. The balsam's symbolism of impatience, short temper, and "don't touch me" stems from its fruit, which when mature bursts at the slightest contact and scatters its seeds. In Asia, rose balsam petals are crushed and combined with alum to create a dye used to colour fingernails. In Western floriography, rose balsam mainly represents impatience and ardent or fiery love. The rose balsam also embodies purity, innocence, and beauty. The flower also represents motherly love, which, while appearing counterintuitive, can be interpreted as a metaphor for the complexities of maternal care. The figurative symbolism of rose balsam combines sensitivity with strength similarly to a mother who relentlessly protects her children while encouraging their freedom. The balsam's representation of "fiery love" stems from the vivid red colour of its flowers, which evokes an image of passionate love.

┗ · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ┛

Part 1A│ Part 1B │Part 2

╰➤ Other anime & donghua hanakotoba posts

[A/N: Please check out part 1A and 1B as well! Since I've only watched the anime but haven't read the manga or light novels and thus cannot comment on how everything ties into the overarching storyline or character development—I didn't go into too much detail here... Also, since there are so many flowers featured, this post would grow way too long if I did lmao. 

If anyone has any ideas on what anime/anime theme song I should cover next in this series please lmk✿ Also, if you liked this post, check out my other hanakotoba analysis posts...]

[aziraphales-library]

Hello!

I was wondering if you have any fics about jesus and the second coming so a continuation of season 2!

Ive been trying find a tag for it but I cant fine any unfortunately

Thank you!

Hi! Tags on ao3 I'd suggest are The Second Coming (Good Omens) and Jesus (Good Omens). We also have series three speculation fics here. Here are some more fics for you...

Fallen from the sky-The Second Coming by Bucky1984 (M)

After the abandonment of Aziraphale, Crowley struggles to reinvent himself and finds comfort in the daily lives of the inhabitants of Soho... Meanwhile, the new Supreme Archangel has been entrusted with the new phase of the Great Divine Plan! Determined to use his new influence to save humanity from the worst, Aziraphale is torn between trust and conscience. When Good and Evil become diluted, there is no longer black or white. Only grey remains...

Once for the Devil, Once for Christ by Eighty_Sixed (G)

During the Second Coming, Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves on opposite sides. Meanwhile, the newly returned Jesus Christ isn't quite what everyone expected.

Falling with Style by NooRose93 (E)

Aziraphale is having a difficult enough time averting the second coming without an amnesiac demon to look after, thank you very much. Crowley has always been the one to rescue Aziraphale, will Aziraphale be able to save Crowley's memories before the end of the world?

I am with you always, to the very end of the age. by garlicpasta (NR)

Then will appear in heaven the sign of the Son of Man, and then all the tribes of the earth will mourn, and they will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. And he will send out his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other. Or maybe not. Aziraphale and Crowley get together after they last saw each other to save the world once more. But working together won’t be easy if they don't stop arguing every five seconds. Will Muriel and Jesus Christ be able to save their marriage, I mean, the world? Saving the world was never this fun! –Muriel I just want to get over with this already so I can see Hozier live. –Jesus I think everyone should just die. –Michael

Demiurge by PanderrynRose (E)

As the dust settles, Crowley drives. Away. Away from everything. He can't stay, not now. Not when warm memories have frozen into icy shards that shred his heart and lungs every time he sees something that reminds him of everything he's lost. But just as he can't stay, he also can't stay away from those who need or ask for his help. Earth--for all intents and purposes--is his home. And he can't leave the planet to the whims of the same bureaucracy and being that harmed him.

From Foxclere (with love?) by Bohemia (T)

There, in the small space between the dessert bowl and Crowley’s coffee saucer, was a partial map of the cosmos, rendered delicately in Châteauneuf-du-Pape. “How’s your mythology these days?” Crowley asked, head bent down, keeping the conservation cloistered without any need for a miracle. “As good as it always was, thank you,” Aziraphale replied primly. ---------- Wherein Crowley restores himself to the Court of Hell, Aziraphale just wants to Do The Right Thing, and they are still very firmly Not Talking. An imaginary Season 3, featuring terrible choices, heartbreak, ridiculous situations, Jane Austen, Greek Mythology, a hefty dose of plot, and perhaps a long overdue Conversation.

- Mod D

[debb987]

Rise!Dee looked at the flower with surprise.

"For us? And you picked a nice one too! " He grinned and immediately grabbed it. "A Devil's Trumpet! I'll ask Mikey to put it in a vase, we don't want him accidentally using it for a new recipe, but the kitchen counter could certainly use some purple-"

"Actually, I think that's for us," 12!Donnie snatched the flower with a pointed look. "Since the story is still currently on our side of the multiverse, this offer is obviously meant for-"

"You wish this flower would be intended to your obviously inferior world-"

"It's got nothing to do with that! It's just logical."

"Don't even try to bullshit and claim it's logic, that's MY thing-"

"ARE YOU TWO GETTING ALONG OVER THERE!"

"YES!" they both answered in unison, grinning and linking arms like the best buddies on Earth, as they both grabbed onto the stem of the flower.

Rad squinted suspiciously. "Uh-huh, I have an eye on you guys- oh, what a pretty flower! Is that for us?"

EF!Raph, who had watched the exchange while slowly stepping back simply nodded.

"Hey, thank you! It's so cute, I wonder what kind of flower is-"

"Devil's Trumpet." Both Donnie's answered in unison before exchanging sideway glares.

Rad hummed and took the flower from them-

And ate it.

"Thanks for the snack, other Raph!" Rad muttered obliviously while both Donnie's stared with growing horror. "And sorry about them, please ignore these bozos-"

"Raph that was poisonous."

"They mean no harm- what."

"Why would you eat it, oohhh why, oh no."

"Ok, so there's a 60-40 chance Draxum accounted for that scenario-"

"No wait, why would a flower be poisonous!?" Rad huffed. "They're so pretty!"

"The real question here is why would you eat it-?"

EF!Raph slowly escaped from the accidental soon-to-be-crime scene, because even if Rad resulted to be inmune, it was obvious the two purple turtles would end up fighting each other.

[queen-of-the-misfit-toys]

Eye of the Beholder

Warnings: not much really, talk of sexy times

Word count: 0.7k a little thing

Summary: Sophie soothes Benedict's fears of needing glasses.

I can't resist this man in specs 😍🤓

____________________________________________

Benedict stood in his dressing room frantically rummaging through his waistcoats.

"Sophie, SoPHIEEEEE, I need you, Darling!!

"There's no need to shout, Ben. I was just at my vanity. Now whatever could be the problem?"

"Where the devil is my cornflower blue waistcoat? The one with the cherry and raspberry embroidery. I've looked everywhere for it and it is nowhere to be found!"

Sophie sighed as she walked over to the blue section of the wall. She reached and immediately pulled the much loved garment out of the crush of clothes.

"How? I've been through that section a dozen times! How did I miss it?"

"Darling," Sophie started softly and laid her hand on his arm, "I think it may be time to start considering spectacles. I've noticed that you are squinting a lot and I believe that your eyes may be the cause of your frequent headaches. Kate said Anthony recently received some and they have helped him tremendously."

Benedict blanched.

"Spectacles, Soph? I'm not that damn old yet!

"No one is calling you old, Ben. It's just th…"

"What next? A walking stick and an ear trumpet? Maybe a wheeled chair because I can't dodder around anymore?" His voice was reaching a pitch which Sophie knew her darling, dashing husband was about to lose it.

"Benedict Bridgerton, you are being utterly ridiculous. Needing spectacles does not mean you are old! Gracious, there are children who need them. Our dear Belinda must wear them and Daphne believes Caroline may need them as well. Do you consider your precious nieces old?"

He sat on the edge of their bed, looking chastened and forlorn.

"No, Soph. I do not consider them old," he sighed. " I've just always had perfect eyesight. Even when Colin stuck a spoon in my eye when I was seven, I recovered with seemingly no effects to my vision."

"Colin stuck a spoon in your eye?"

"He was two and I attempted to take a bowl of ice cream from him as I had finished mine. That's when we, well…I, learned how seriously he takes his food. Mother cried but Father joked that I deserved it for stealing Col's dessert."

He sat for a few minutes quietly while his wife rubbed his back.

"I'm not ready to lose my vitality yet. Or my virility, Sophie."

"Why would you think you would lose either, my love? The spectacles do not possess magical powers to suck all of your life-giving energy, Benedict." she teased him. "Only I have that magic power" she giggled into his ear as she palmed him through his breeches.

"Sophie!!

"What, my love? I am your wife. Can I not make advances towards you when the mood strikes?

"Not when I am having a crisis of confidence!"

"Darling Ben, that is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing I have heard come out of your mouth and I have heard many. Your wife, whom you daily heap praise on for being the most gorgeous, most intelligent, most interesting person of your acquaintance, has just propositioned you. One would think your confidence would be soaring."

"You won't be so amorous when you see me in spectacles. I'm sure they will make me look a fright."

Sophie kissed his shoulder.

"Actually, I think you will look very handsome in specs. Very distinguished, worthy of respect and honor. You will make all the ladies of the ton swoon, my love. And I will be first in line at your feet." She nuzzled his neck, inhaling the woodsy, smoky scent of him. " I am your biggest admirer after all."

Benedict groaned at his wife's attentions.

"You are the only person in the world that matters, my Sophie."

He reached around and pulled her into his lap, capturing her lips with his own.

"Then why are you so self-conscious about spectacles?" she mumbled against his mouth. " I've already told you how attractive I believe you will be with them. Sexy even. Very sexy. Have you ever considered making love in just spectacles, dear husband?"

"Sophia Maria, what has gotten into you? Not that I want it to stop, mind you."

He spun them around, laying her flat on the bed while he hovered over her.

"Do you really think I will look sexy in specs?" he asked as he licked along her collarbone.

"I shan't get anything done for lusting after you, my prince."

Benedict laughed heartily.

"I will call for the doctor this very afternoon."

[viperrot]

⇁high school sweethearts | leon kennedy | pt. 2

resident evil 4 remake leon s. kennedy x fem!band-student!reader high school au

oboes are fuckin' expensive. much to you and your brother's dismay, the school is making you pay for the damages instead of your newfound enemy. oh, and his dad wants you to tutor his daughters!

pt. 1 pt.3

content contains: mild angst, enemies to lovers, mean leon, cliches, story is told in first person, reader is a bit shy and is an oboe and trumpet player!, leon and reader are in their juniour year, fictional town set around 1980!

not proofread i am sleepy

2252 words

song rec: "the mercy of the wind" by million eyes

still on the slower side, but alas.

"Ms. (L/n)? They're asking for you at the guidance office," Mr. Kay coughs during our water break. I look up at him, confused for a moment, but I realize it was most likely to talk about that awful interaction that happened before this period between Damien, Leon, and me.

"Oh... Oka-"

"Let me go with her, Mr. Kay," Sammy demands, setting her flute down in her case beneath her seat. Before the director can say anything, the ravenette drags me by the sleeve of my shirt out of the door. She's got this pout on her lips, and I know that she's still angry.

"I can't believe that fuckin' asshole just thought it was a good idea to drop your oboe like that!" She fumes. I swear I can steam come out of her ears as she grumbles profanities about the ace soccer player. "Y'know, you'd think that he knows how expensive those things can be since he has two sisters in band, but nnooooo, he just had to go on 'n do that to you, huh? I'll show him...!"

"Sammy, it's fi-" The five-foot-nine beauty stopped in her tracks, turning on her heel to face me and slam her palms onto my shoulder.

"Sugar, it's not fine," she sighs, seeing how shocked I looked. "That oboe is your baby. You can beat up your trumpet as much as you want, but that oboe is what's gettin' you into college," she reminds me. I look down at the toes of my converse, a bit embarrassed by how I was so easily putting off my emotions. I feel Sammy give my cheek a soft caress with her thumb.

"Don't lie to yourself and put Kennedy in a shinin' light. He did something awful to you, and that's a fact. Me 'n your brother are gunna make him pay hell," the girl assures me, and I nod at her words.

"Thank you, Sammy... I'm glad you love me enough to tell me I'm being an idiot," I chuckle dryly. She slaps my shoulder softly.

"That's what best friends are for, (Y/n)!" Sammy gives me a comforting smile, and we begin walking again. The journey is a bit long considering the band room is on the opposite end of the high school, but it was fun because of how Sammy described the most grotesque ways of torturing the new boy in town. Eventually, we made it to the guidance office, and inside was my counselor, my older brother, and the devil incarnate.

"Ah, there you are," my conselor, Ms. Penelope smiles. She nods at Samantha, and I figure she's okay with my friend being here. I sit down awkwardly between Leon and Damien, shrinking in my spot to take up as little space possible. My best friend sits next to Damien, furthest away from the ex-Greenvale resident. The silence is deafening, and I feel as if I could cut the tension with a knife.

"So..." Ms. Penelope clears her throat, resting her dainty hands atop her desk. "I think we all know why you three are in here," she motions towards the boys and me. Damien grunts, and Leon is dead silent. I decide to speak up.

"How will my oboe be repaired?" I question. I see Ms. Penelope's expression turn a bit somber. Through gritted teeth, she responds.

"Well, I had asked some other people before I called you in, and they said it would be best not to penalize Mr. Kenne-"

"What.," Damien and Sammy eyes narrowed as they spoke in unison. I hear Leon stifle a giggle, and my brother immediately stands up, about to pounce.

"Don't fucking laugh, you piece of shit!" He roars, fist tight at his sides. "That thing was hard-earned, dipshit!"

"Mr. (L/n), sit down, now!" Ms. Penelope gasps.

"Please," Leon scoffs. "Nothing from your family is hard-earned. As far as I know, you bribed your coach to be team captain. It's too bad that money's all wasted, Dami-poo~ I'm here now," the blonde smiles devilishly, and I see my brother is getting ready to rip his throat out.

"You little-!"

"Boys! Settle down, please! You are not making this situation any better," Ms. Penelope orders. Like a kicked puppy, Damien retreats back into his seat, crossing his arms beneath his chest like a child being scolded by his mother.

"Ugh, Ms. Penelope, this doesn't make any sense. That was an advanced-level instrument. If (Y/n) can't get it repaired or replaced soon, she won't have anything to play for our concert season," Samantha said, trying to reason. "Surely he can pitch in a little money. This is his fault, after all."

"I'm sorry... I have no control over this. If I had it my way, I'd have him pay in full, but it was a request from our principal. The best I could do was have a fundraising event approved for your band," the brunette woman explain, her frown worsening.

"Great. Can I leave now? My study hall is about to end, and I've got an English class to catch," Leon yawned out, the sleeve of his Greenvale High letterman straightening as he stretched. Ms. Penelope pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly irritated dealing with ignorant high schoolers.

"Yes, yes. Go 'head, Mr. Kennedy," she eagerly dismisses him. Immediately, he saunters out the door of her office, seemingly very happy with himself. The door shuts with a click, and it's just us four left. Tears begin to swell in the corner of my eyes.

"Erm... So, w-what's the fundraiser going to b-be?" I stutter out, not wanting to show weakness. The counselor hands me a slip of paper.

"I recommended a bake sale. It's simple, and I know our little town never says no to a sweet treat, especially with how nice the weather's been recently," she smiles gently at me, and I feel my heart squeeze. Samantha takes the pink sheet out of my hands and grins from ear to ear.

"Thanks, Ms. Penelope. I'll be telling our director about this. Is that all you needed from us?" Sammy asks, standing up from her spot. The brunette shakes her head as a no and has us leave her alone. Damien sighs when the door closes behind us, and I can tell he wants to blow up. I take his hand in mine, softly squeezing it.

"You okay, Dami?" I frown. He looks at me, clearly distraught.

"I guess..." he huffs. "I just wish he were dead," his eyes narrow, and I know he's thinking about Leon.

"Tch, you 'n me both," Sammy clicks her tongue.

"You gunna be okay, sis? I can get Ma to pick you up if you need," Damien asks me, worried. I think for a moment, and I nod as a yes. It's a Friday anyways, and there won't be any games until two weeks. Sammy leaves Damien and me on our own, deciding to get back to the band room to retrieve my belongings. My dear big brother takes me to the front off and requested the desk-lady to call our mom. After a bit, he left me with a chaste kiss on my forehead and told me to wait for Mom and Samantha.

I sat alone in the office, patiently waiting for my mom with my broken oboe in my lap.

"Hey, (Y/n)? Can you come down here for a second?" I hear Mom call from the bottom of the stairs. I slug myself out of the bed, not wanting to leave my room. My slippers drag against the floor as I slump down the stairs, wanting to get this over with and just sleep for the rest of the day. We don't have dinner until an hour or two, so I'm curious as to why Mom would call me down so early. When I make it down the stairs, I see Mom sitting in the living room with a familiar man, happily talking to him.

"She's had a bit of a rough day, so give her a moment," I hear her tell him. I walk in, still in my school clothing. My fingers fiddle with the fabric of my shirt as I sit down next to my mother, looking at the man confused.

It's Leon's dad...

"Honey, this is Mr. Kennedy. He wants to ask you a favour," Mom sets a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it softly. I swallow dryly, a tight feeling in my chest as I stare at the blonde man across me. His hair is slicked back, dressed in black dress pants, and a maroon button-up. His eyes are a gentle chocolate brown, a stark difference compared to his son's harsh and icy hues. Mr. Kennedy nods at me, smiling gently.

"Nice to meet you, (Y/n)," he grins at me. "I got a suggestion from my little ones' band directors about private lessons for trumpet. I was wondering if you were perhaps interested? I'm willing to pay you 20$ an hour if so," he asks me, crossing his legs. My eyes widen at his price.

"O-oh, uhm...!?" I bite my bottom lip, unsure of what to say. I shoot a look at my mom to my left, silently begging for guidance. She gives me only a reassuring smile, and I look back at Mr. Kennedy.

"Well?"

"Uhm... sure," I cough. "Is it alright if they're after school every Monday, Tuesday, and some Friday nights? I would like her to have some experience with our marching band as well, if you're both okay with it," I ask him. He thinks for a moment before nodding.

In the end, we agree with the schedule. Every Monday and Tuesday, his daughters will come over to practice with me. For Fridays, they'll only accompany during home football games to get some experience playing more advanced pep-tunes, but only if they want to. I tried to tell him that 20$ an hour was a bit much, but he insisted, claiming that his daughters can be rowdy. Eventually, he leaves, and I'm left alone with my mom in the kitchen to drink some tea. Slumping in my seat, I sigh annoyedly.

"Do you think he knows about my...?"

"Maybe," Mom murmurs as she washes dishes, sometimes looking at the stove to check on the boiling pasta. "But I'm assuming not," she hums, and I frown. I didn't have the heart to tell him his son is a heartless person, and it made me feel a bit worse than it should have. I leave the kitchen without another word, stumbling back into my room to cry a bit more...

It's sunny today.

"Oi, thumper, wake up," Damien raps at my bedroom door, opening it enough to poke his head in. I'm already up, sitting in my window nook while I look through some music I played in middle school to get ready for tutoring. I look up from the sheets, staring blankly at my brother.

"Ready?" I ask him. He looks surprised that I'm awake, but he nods.

"Mom's letting me take Pa's car today," my older brother smirks, dangling the silver keys in the air. I chuckle, knowing how much he loves Dad's little Impala. I get up from my spot in my plush nook, following Damien downstairs and out the door after we bid our parents goodbye. The two of us race to the car childishly, giggling all along as we throw ourselves into the noir Chevrolet. We settle into the cool leather seats, and I immediately pop on our cassette tape that’s stored in the center console. Immediately, Toto’s “Hold the Line” begins, and we begin to pull out of the driveway. As Damien hums along to the song, I look out of the window to my left.

Today, we’re going out to get a hand-me-down oboe from a local shop that is generous enough to give me one since I’m there so often. A little temporary deal until my personal one can be repaired or replaced. As we pull out of the drive way, I catch sight of the devil across the street.

He’s sitting on the porch, and I’m confused as to how I didn’t notice him before. In Leon’s lap is what looks like a guitar, and he’s got this ugly scowl on his face as he glares at us from his home.

“What an ugly bastard,” Damien white-knuckles the wheel, glaring at him through the rearview. I glance over to my brother, seeing his brows furrow as he stares down the blonde boy across the street.

A large part of me wanted to defend Leon’s beauty. I know I should hate him, but he’s just so… charming. From the rearview, I notice how his hair is a little damp, and I assume he had showered this morning. His shirt is simply white, and I can’t see the rest of his outfit from the way he sat behind his porch. My fingers clutch the at fabric of my sleeves, holding myself back from saying something about Leon’s looks. We drive past the Kennedy household, and I can’t help but stare through the window.

Leon’s gaze pierces through the glass, and I feel myself shrink into my seat, my heart drumming against my ribcage as we lock eyes. His lips are formed in a straight line as his icy glare follows the Impala I rode in, and I can’t bring myself to look away.

Is it wrong to want to talk to him, despite what he did to me?

uhh its still slow but yk i think thats what will make it good or not i honestly just type out my scrambled thoughts and hope it works!

pt.3 here!

some lovelies⇁ @vampiramaeve @kurawooooooo @umooooo74 @estre11afugaz

[keketopia]

luka couffaine headcanons

• luka is a pretty laidback person

• he sometimes stargaizes at night, just so he can look at the constellations

• he isn't actually afraid of snakes, in fact, he's actually considering having one as a pet

• he and juleka have a secret communication system through music. like when one of them asks a question or speaks they would respond by playing a few notes on an instrument and they would know what it means.

juleka: "luka, have you seen my phone?"

luka: *plays a few strings on his guitar*

juleka: "found it, thanks!"

____________________________________________

luka: "what happened to my toffee pudding?"

juleka: *plays a few strings on her bass*

luka: "really, jules? I was saving that!"

juleka: *plays some more strings on her bass"

luka: "how was I supposed to know that spaghetti was yours? I didn't even see your name"

juleka: *aggressively plays some more strings on her bass while also pouting and glaring at luka*

luka: "okay, it was half finished. but i was hungry and i wasn't really craving any other foods"

juleka: *plays some more strings on her bass*

luka: "whatever, i'll just buy some"

____________________________________________

• might want a houseboat when he's older. he just loves listening to the calm waves of the water when he's sleeping or meditating

• writes songs for marinette even when they broke up

• sometimes uses juleka's head as an armrest because he's taller than her. just a way for him to tease her and laughs when she gets annoyed.

• he has really good memory. this stems from his obsession with music. not to mention that he's pretty observant. like if someone places a book somewhere and they can't remember where they put it, luka would tell them where it is.

• luka's love for music comes from when his mom used to play guitar for him and juleka as a kid. in fact, the guitar was the first instrument he learned how to play

• luka goes to the pet store to buy mice because sass admits that mice are his favorite food.

• luka is pretty chill, it's rare for him to get angry. there are only a few times where he gets angry (silencer for example)

• remember when I said that luka isn't afraid of snakes? yeah, may I mention that snakes are his favorite animal? he's considering having a snake tattoo when he's an adult, although he's not sure if he wants it on his arm or on his back.

• an empath

• his favorite flower is the devil's trumpet

• studies psychology & philosophy

• he keeps his hair his natural color for a while because keeping his edges blue can be a pain in the ass since the color washes off very quickly. so he keeps it black until he gets bored and dyed them again

• he has chromesthesia

• he firmly believes in rebirth and that there is life after death

• reads past life regression books

• he doesn't really have any aspirations for fame. despite his dad being a famous rockstar, he doesn't want to be in the spotlight. he instead wants to teach music to other people, which is why his choice of a career is a music teacher

• he is a buddhist. he believes in the majority of buddhist beliefs, including samudaya

• allergic to seafood

• plans on getting just a few more piercings

• luka is explicitly against sass calling him master

• luka will sometimes play with sass' tail whenever the kwami sits in an elevated position

• he knows how to play the lyre (due to being viperion), keyboard, & the cello.

• he is very protective, especially towards juleka. he has gotten in trouble a lot as a child for starting fights with people that bullied her.

• despite being french, he does not like cheese. he once passive-aggressively (but in a good way) gave adrien deodorant because he couldn't stand the smell of camembert

• when luka is stressed. he plays notes on his guitar with his eyes closed and tries to guess what pitch the note is at

• he is pansexual i refuse to believe he's straight!

• jokingly refers to himself as an old man because he mostly hangs out with juleka's friends, who are all two years younger than him

[turniparts]

So... Life series winners as Omori characters anyone? Individual ref sheets and more info under the cut :D

Okay SO, for starters I will just say that I am biased towards Scott Smajor and that is why I made him the main character. However, I do believe that in the end he does kind of make the most sense for Sunny considering that everyone else fits better as the other characters imo. Also I used tints of blue instead of black and white bc drawing Scott in black and white just simply feels incorrect.

Anyway, Scar and Pearl are just 100% Hero and Aubrey respectively. A lot of Hero's character revolves around his charming personality, which he uses in headspace to get people to do him favors. I feel like this matches up with Scar's "too charismatic for his own good" schtick that usually happens in the life series.

Aubrey reacts to a negative experience where she was abandoned by IMMEDIATELY lashing out at everyone and becoming a social outcast, hanging out with delinquents. I don't think it's rocket science to see that Pearl, who reacted to negative experiences where she was abandoned by going crazy and lashing out at everyone, matches her character really well.

Going from there, Scott as Sunny makes sense because of his abandonment of Pearl in double life mirroring Sunny's retreat from Aubrey and his friends in how the latter reacted.

Then Grian as Mari because 1) Desert Duo(not necessarily romantic, just in how they are inextricably linked), and 2) He was the first winner and with Watcher stuff I feel like his character is best suited to Mari's role in headspace.

That left Cleo and Martyn as Kel and Basil. These two were the ones I debated the longest, because I feel like they both suit both roles. I went with Cleo as Kel because she's the one who stuck with Scott throughout every life series, like how Kel never gave up on knocking on Sunny's door.

Martyn and Scott were of course the mean gills, and Martyn won through attacking Scott despite all they'd been through together. Basil experienced the trauma with Sunny but still ended up attacking him in his fear. Plus with listener lore I feel like Martyn being the only other person to know the truth makes sense.

Also, whether you look at it in the celestial bodies interpretation(Grian Sun, Scott Stars, Pearl Moon, Martyn Mars, Scar Earth, Cleo Pluto) or tarot cards interpretation(Grian Sun, Scott Stars, Pearl Moon, Martyn Tower, Scar World, Cleo Fool), the omori characters also match up to those.

Sorry that was a lot of explanation for why I linked the specific characters I did. Onto the flowers! Scott as a poppy actually makes a lot of sense even w/out flower husbands, as it's a flower that symbolizes sleep, due to its use in sleeping gas, as well as death, which both match up with how Sunny acted in game.

Pearl is a Datura becuase of its ties to the moon(Moonflowers) as well as its other name(Devil's Trumpet) referencing her Double life character. It is also a very spiritual flower for many cultures, which ties into Aubrey and how she attends church.

Cleo being a succulent feels self explanatory, much like Kel's cactus in game they are easy to take care of and grow under many conditions.

Scar is lavender because of its associations with calming and devotion. Hero acts as the group's peace-keeper, and Scar with this role would do the same. It also has some medicinal properties like soothing headaches and having anti-inflammatory effects, which I feel fits well.

Martyn is a water lily because the season he won was the mean gills season, which I wanted to tie in. Their meaning being rebirth(which also matches the poppy) fits the way that Sunny can only face the truth after Basil nearly kills him. They also symbolize enlightenment, which again aligns with how Basil/Martyn is the only character to know the truth other than Sunny himself.

Grian is the red zinnia because firstly, I wanted him to have a red flower, and secondly its symbolism matches pretty well. Familial love, of course, represents how Mari(Grian in this case) was not only Sunny's big sister, but also acted as a sisterly figure to the other kids. While they are tough flowers, they also symbolize remembrance, pointing towards the death of Mari/Grian. I probably could've kept everyone except Scott and Martyn's flowers the same, but I actually had a lot of fun looking into flower meanings and stuff(sorry if it's not al 100% accurate).

I was honestly surprised with how many parallels I was actually able to find here. This really started as a silly thing I played with in my head because I enjoy both of these medias, but the more I thought about it, the more I went "huh, that actually does make sense", so now here we are.

@easily-distracted-by-fandom , I hope you enjoy the ramble. I also hope that I find more people who know what the heck I'm talking about lmao

Edited in an attempt to make this easier to read instead of big blocks of text lmao

[wedreamedlove]

Hello! what are the LN men flower motifs? how do they correspond to them?

OSBORN = IRIS (鸢尾花)

The monsoon of early summer climbs onto the window sill, and the iris prepares to bloom.

in china, irises represent messengers of love and long-lasting longing. in europe, it symbolizes light and freedom. in egypt, it symbolizes strength and eloquence. blue irises in particular represent a pure and unadorned love.

EVAN = DATURA (曼陀罗花)

Someone like him should not possess the light.

daturas, also known as devil's trumpet, are a genus of highly poisonous plants that belong to the nightshade family. red ones in particular mean a bloody love... haha. i think it's appropriate for this man's intensity.

SARIEL = EPIPHYLLUM (昙花)

At the end of life, he thought on how he never truly appreciated the course of a Queen of the Night's bloom, and suddenly he felt intensely unreconciled.

queen of the night's have always represented the fleeting moment of eternal beauty because they bloom once a year and only for one night. this one is a bit more abstract and, at the beginning of the game, it fits Sariel because of how his degeneration was going to make him die within the year. now though, i think it fits the "fleeting" moment Sariel and the heroine have together because of their different lifespan. he will outlive her.

CHARLIE = CLEMATIS (铁线莲)

Please forgive me for I have sinned because of you.

clematis represent nobility, a beautiful heart, and change. in china, they're also seen to symbolize loyalty, tenacity, and steadfastness. it fits when we think of how Charlie continues to persist in saving people and the world when it's so dark.

JESSE = PERUVIAN LILY (六出花)

To him, there's nothing happier than reuniting with her again!

it has a very obvious meaning in relation to Jesse, the joy and expectation of meeting again! orange ones in particular though can also symbolize passion, an awakening, and uplifting feelings.

[brotherslayer]

If athy main flower is roses then wich one is jennette's?

Officially? I believe it's marguerite daisies. They are in her name, on her dresses, all around her.

In the language of flowers, daisies symbolize new beginnings and rebirth, in addition to love, cheerfulness, beauty, purity, innocence, hope, fun, and affection. They’re also commonly given to new mothers as a symbol of childbirth and motherhood. In spirituality, daisies represent faith and eternal life. One of the earliest associations of daisies with childbirth comes from the ancient Celtic people. Although it’s darker than the symbolism of motherhood and childbirth attributed to daisies today, the ancient Celts believed that when a child or infant died – especially in childbirth – the gods would cover their graves with daisies in an attempt to console those who were grieving the loss. Another early association of daisies with childbirth comes from Norse mythology. The daisy flower is associated with the goddess Freya who is a goddess of fertility, love, and beauty.

If you ask me I find Athy's association with roses a bit boring and cliche. Roses are beautiful but nearly every female lead has roses drawn around her. If it was ever special it's not anymore. Regarding Jennette and daisies I feel a similar way. It fits 50/50 I guess but the meaning is so universal it could also be applied to Athy. I like to associate Jennette with Angel trumpets and lp Athy with Bleeding Hearts.

Angel's Trumpet

Brugmansia suaveolens, Brazil's white angel trumpet, also known as angel's tears and snowy angel's trumpet. The Latin specific epithet suaveolens means “with a sweet fragrance”. Every part of Brugmansia suaveolens is poisonous, with the seeds and leaves being especially dangerous. Ingestion of the plants can cause disturbing hallucinations, seizures, paralysis, coma, memory loss, and death. Angel's trumpets are so lethal that they have been used throughout history and literature as a means of killing a person or committing suicide. Supposedly, it was even used as an execution drug for criminals. Traditional external uses have included the treating of aches and pains, headaches, infections, and as an anti-inflammatory. They have been used internally much more rarely due to the inherent dangers of ingestion. Brugmansia is a symbol of danger, but it also represents vivacity. It is thought to be heralding a time of transformation and rebirth.

Devil's Trumpet

Datura is a genus of poisonous flowering plants belonging to the family Solanaceae. Throughout history, there have been stories about this plant being used to make poisons, witches' brews or love potions. Due to its toxicity and the shape of the flowers, they were granted the common name of Devil’s Trumpet. In some religions and cultures, Datura symbolizes a powerful and dangerous plant. Pictured above is the Purple Queen Devil's Trumpet.

Bleeding Hearts