carnations — mlm! disaster! simp! enzo berkshire x male! mlm! muggleborn! gryffindor! reader
hooooo boy, alrighty, a few things:
i am in fact alive, hello! i just got really bad imposter syndrome about my writing and didn’t post any fics for like three months <3
i did actual RESEARCH for this fic. using an actual physical BOOK.
one of my lovely little darlings suggested an enzo + male reader + picnic date drabble, and it spiraled into 1.4k words of gay
you will get secondhand embarrassment from enzo in this. just warning you. but it’s in like a cute way so yk
ty all for not getting mad about me not posting i literally adore y’all sm 🤟
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
“Y/n,” Ron loudly whispered, elbowing you in the side. “Do you have a spare quill I can borrow?”
“Can you last one day without breaking something, Weasley?” You rolled your eyes fondly, giving him the quill in your hand and reaching down to grab another from your bag. Instead, your hand brushed against something else.
You retrieved the mystery object from your bag with furrowed eyebrows. It was a small rectangular object, no bigger than your palm, wrapped in brown paper and tied up with a pretty lavender ribbon—with a single green carnation in the center of the bow.
You set aside the carnation, unwrapping the tiny gift and being met with the sight of a small book, bound in leather, which bore the gilded name: FLORIOGRAPHY: A Guide to the Victorian Language of Flowers.
~~~
The first flower you found was pressed between the pages of your Runes textbook. A combination of a rich purple and vibrant yellow color, with a striking dark center that spread out onto three of its five petals.
You carefully tucked the flower back away in between the pages of your textbook, vowing to look it up after class.
You couldn’t focus for the rest of the lesson.
~~~
It took a while to flip through every entry of the two-hundred page book, squinting at the tiny illustrations, but you eventually found a match to the mystery flower.
—————
PANSY
Viola tricolor var. hortensis
Meaning:
You occupy my thoughts
—————
~~~
“Parkinson!”
Pansy stopped in her tracks, looking back over her shoulder with a look of distaste. “Yes, lion?”
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“We’re talking right now,” she drawled, but grabbed your sleeve and pulled you into a nearby empty classroom. “What is it?”
You root through your bag, drawing out the Runes textbook.
“Homework?” she scoffed. “I’m not a tutor, little lion.”
“No, not the book.” You rolled your eyes, carefully opening it. “I found this in between the pages this morning.”
Her eyes lit up at the sight of the pressed flower you cradled in your hand. “It’s you?” She looked baffled. “Huh. I never would’ve guessed. Anyways, congratulations on solving the first clue.”
~~~
An odd hot-pink flower, with little shoots sprouting from the center and reminding you a bit of those light-up fiber optic lamps from the Muggle world, sat in the palm of your hand. A second green carnation was tied to the stem of the mystery flower with another lavender ribbon.
Pansy had abandoned you as soon as the flower was in your possession, saying that she hadn’t been paid enough to stick around.
(You knew she was just as invested in this as you were.)
Finally, after flipping through the little leather-bound book for what felt like the hundredth time, you found the strange flower.
—————
MYRTLE
Myrtus
Meaning:
Love
—————
Huh. Well. Okay then. A little on the nose, but alright.
~~~
“Um, excuse me? Miss…Myrtle Warren?”
“A boy!” the unsettling ghost girl shrieked. “Twice! In one day!”
“There was another boy in here?” you asked hopefully. “Who was he?”
“Get out! This is the ladies’ room!”
“I’m real sorry, Miss Myrtle,” you said placatingly. “I’m just on a…scavenger hunt of sorts, and I thought a clue led to you. My apologies for bothering you.”
“A scavenger hunt?” Myrtle questioned, suddenly interested. She uncrossed her arms and floated down from the ceiling. “What are you looking for?”
“A flower of some sort? The last one I got was from a myrtle tree.” You held the offensively pink flower up for her to see. “It’s why I thought you might be the next clue.”
She looked flattered. “Well…the other boy who came in here earlier did have something with him. A package.”
“Did he leave it in here?”
“Yes.” Myrtle points to the dusty windowsill on the far wall. “Why is he leaving things for you?”
“I don’t know,” you said vaguely, hoping to bypass the conversation. As much as you’d love to discuss the intricacies of queer relationships with an annoying ghost girl who died in the forties, you’d rather do literally anything else.
So you merely picked up the brown paper-wrapped item, familiarly decorated with a lavender bow and a green carnation, and tucked it safely in your bag to be opened later.
“Thank you for your help, Miss Myrtle.”
The ghost giggled and her cheeks turned a silvery-white; probably the phantasmic equivalent of a blush.
You quickly hurried out of the girls’ bathroom.
~~~
—————
CLEMATIS
Clematis
Meaning:
Cleverness
—————
“I’m at a dead end,” you groaned, resting your head on your arms.
Ron patted your shoulder from beside you, only half paying attention to your queer plight. “You’ll figure it out,” he mumbled around a mouthful of pie, spewing crumbs all over the table.
Hermione made a face. “Charming, Ronald.” At his weak protests, she just rolled her eyes and turned back to you. “How do you even know it’s a boy anyways?”
“Carnations,” you mumbled. “Green carnations. Oscar Wilde’s secret symbol of homosexuality in the late nineteenth century.”
“Okay, so your secret admirer is a dork, is what you’re saying,” Ron drawled.
You looked up with a scowl, ready to throw back a witty remark, when you were interrupted by Lightning Boy-howdy-how-has-he-not-died-yet.
“What’s with the whole bouquet you’ve got going on, L/n?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the half-dozen flowers spread out across the table.
“Trying to decode some fuckin’ Victorian bullshit.” You smacked the book down on the table, frustrated.
Harry picked up the large dark purple flower you’d unceremoniously tossed in front of you.
“Oh, this is a clematis flower,” he said offhandedly. “My aunt and uncle have this exact shrub in their garden. The blooms never get this big though.”
You perked up in surprise. “You’re familiar with it?”
Harry nodded. “Yep. Tricky little bugger. Lord Neville’s a pretty aggressive feeder and needs lots of fertilizer, although that’s true of all clematis plants, I suppose. They’re also—”
“What did you just say?” you interrupted.
“It’s an aggressive feeder…?”
“No, no, the other part. Lord Neville?”
Harry quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah? It’s just the name of the subspecies, Y/n. No big deal.”
“Oh my Godric— I have to go!”
You shove everything into your bag, almost tripping over the table’s bench in your haste to get up.
“What about lunch?” Ron called after you, affronted.
“No time!”
~~~
You hesitantly opened the door to Greenhouse No. 5, peeking inside the warm shed.
“Neville?” you called out cautiously, giving one plant actively trying to wriggle out of its pot nearby a wary look.
You fully stepped inside the greenhouse, your attention immediately caught by the neat trail of green fan-shaped petals on the ground.
You followed the trail through the front room of the greenhouse, crossing through the threshold to the second room and looking up, only to see—
“Berkshire?”
Enzo rocked back and forth on his feet nervously, chewing his bottom lip and fiddling with the cuffs of his uniform shirt. “Surprise?”
You didn’t know the boy too well. You’d been his assigned partner on a few school projects here and there, and he’d always been friendly when you passed him in the halls, but he’d always seemed a bit reserved and shy around you.
You took a moment to draw your gaze away from him to look around the greenhouse. A silver and green Slytherin blanket was spread out neatly across the ground by Enzo’s feet. A proper wicker picnic basket, two crystal glasses, and a bottle of wine sat on the edge of the blanket, waiting.
Enzo himself had a green carnation pinned to the pocket of his shirt, tied with a lavender ribbon. You grinned.
“You did all this?”
He must’ve misinterpreted your tone of surprise, because he immediately panicked. “U-um, yes. Yeah. Yep. Sorry. I should’ve asked before trying to court you, right? Oh— rats, I didn’t I ask— I just thought you were so handsome, and nice, and— and I didn’t really know how to ask you out—” he rambled nervously.
“Thank you,” you interrupted, for his sake. “This is adorable.”
Enzo’s face was bright red, and you couldn’t help but grin at the sight.
“Why flowers?”
“Oh! Uh. Big part of pureblood culture. Flowers. Daphne, Astoria, Pansy…all flowers.”
You nodded, still grinning.
Enzo cleared his throat awkwardly and motioned to the blanket. “Please, sit.”
You settled down on the soft blanket across from him, sitting cross legged. At your perpetual grin, he seemed to relax a bit.
“Y’know,” you started, as he uncorked the wine and started pouring the glasses, “I think this is the perfect place for a first date.”
His hands trembled as you said that and he looked up at you hopefully. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you grinned. “Perfect place for romance to bloom.”
“That’s a terrible pun.”
“I know. Can you be-leaf it?”
“That’s worse.”
“Be nice. I’m a budding comedian.”
“Shut up.”
“Why don’t you use your tulips to make me?”
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
[please comment if you enjoyed this! this author needs constant positive reinforcement, like a literal toddler!]
187 notes
·
View notes
A long post on writing and languages and insecurities
I went ahead and started in the translation project because I’m excited for it but also I’m seeing a pattern developing in the poll and I like to deliver.
the amount of colloquial expressions that I use for tone and dialogue just…don’t translate. This will be my biggest hurdle. I’m far from fluent. I’m leaning on online translation tools to get the noun or verb I need and then conjugation charts to try to match the tense of the story.
if you’ve politely not mentioned that I cannot spell or conjugate in my mother tongue, thank you, but take solace that I know and I’m so much more aware of it now lol. I feel like I’m better at English by trying to learn other languages. Hm that’s a sad thing to type. Moving on.
I think I’m going to be brave and try to make friends with the French and Spanish speakers at the new job and maybe like talk to them to learn. My skills always degrade because I watch stuff or read but I don’t actually speak so it’s like there’s this enormous downed tree in my mind and I just don’t have the ability to jump it so instead of responding in the target language, my tongue goes all gooey and I just go ummmmm. But I’ll get there one day.
I read something once and I wish I could find it where the author was describing how their voice changes and they “feel” different as they spoke in different languages. I was fascinated by this concept and I feel like I’m seeing it as I translate some of the GLs dialogue in my fics.
Hal and Guy especially are so so much more cool and sexy in Spanish I have to say. I can’t quite explain the change in the tone but I am rewriting a little bit to accommodate my lack of slang and accents to characterize. As I was writing for Kyle, he feels less cool and authentic and it inspired some little WIPs where I have him talking about feeling like he doesn’t know himself or wishes he was more a part of his own heritage. So that was interesting. John always comes off as just slick and natural no matter what I do with him. In my head he just is unflinchingly honest and himself and he applies himself fully to everything he does. He’s passionate without all the show and pizazz of the others. But I also haven’t read him as much as I wish I had. I mostly know him from the Justice League animated show. I adored him and I hated Batman lol. I didn’t feel any love for Bats until Kevin Conroy, go figure. I had a subscription for the DC comics app for a bit and the nearest comic shop to me is over an hour away. I just don’t make it out often enough to read the way I wish i could. For all my love of Green Lantern and space operas and Star Trek and the Lensman series and all that I’m actually not that well read. I feel like less of a fanatic fan and more like a Tik Tokker on a parade float; waving at the real fans and tossing the occasional, unsolicited WIP that’s promising but never finished.
Is it the imposter syndrome getting to me or is it the glaringly weak characterization im delivering staring me in the face? Eh. I enjoy writing. My amateur yet passionately created half-works be upon y’all.
To quote my fave, good old Henry (Rollins): “My mind is like a ball of Teflon; coated in obsidian and impervious to the uptake of ka-nah-ledge.” I feel that in my soul, i really do. Henry and I read and forget so much because it keeps the brain demons busy.
And so the reading/writing hour bell tolls and it’s time to get out of bed for another shift. Off I go!
as always, thanks for reading
3 notes
·
View notes
LAST ONE WAHOO, @lavenderlevetan 3/3 “twos not divisible by 3”
70: are you very critical of your own writing? how much do you find yourself editing (either during the writing or after the fact)?
VERY FUCKING CRITICAL. Holy hell imposter syndrome my beloathed. I’m surrounded by talent and y’all are intimidating. I edit a lot I think, after writing. I tend to add at least 10-20% more words LMAO, as well as rewording stuff
74: are you a planner, pantser, or planster?
Hang on I have to Google something. Reading this description, I think plantser with pantser tendencies. I get a basic idea, at least a few events, and then just go for it
76: what is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain?
Oh god idk man. Lighthearted, I’d say make them decently likable if you want them to be compelling. If they’re evil and annoying or evil and boring, that sucks. One dimensional and/or annoying characters are no fun. Give them some pizzazz. BUT. On a serious note, also be careful to avoid harmful stereotypes. Queer villains are fun—don’t make them your only queer characters. That kind of thing
80: do you try to put themes, motifs, messages, morals, etc in your writing? if so, how do you go about it?
Yes! I tend to mostly use specific themes that go along with the main story theme. It’s hard to explain. Road trip = sunlight and warmth and nature themed allegories and freedom. There in the garden = dark and spooky and gothic and blood and animalistic. You know? Morals I don’t usually use intentionally but I’m not Aesop /lh
82: “proper” punctuation or all lowercase?
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I need my proper punctuation (in 98% of cases). I don’t necessarily have a reason outside of it makes it easier for me to read in regards to when sentences end kind of?? BUT!!! I think stylistically, all lowercase can be a SUPER FUCKING COOL option. Favorite example is dancing in the moonlight by our own summersociety / @candle-lion when it comes to Birdie’s POV, it’s just an incredible choice in my opinion!! It’s fitting that the beast is “simpler” more “animal” you know?
86: which season best matches the mood of your wip(s)?
Fall. I’m an Autumn bitch. I tend to write stuff being in Autumn without really thinking about it
88: if you could have another author write your wip for you (bc we all dream of this occasionally), who would it be?
Hey would you like to take a stab at there in the garden? Or @candle-lion or @sapphicriley I know any of you three would do an incredible job with the concept, I think!! Also @suwunnysideup maybe it’s just me but I think you would absolutely knock the apocalypse au floating around my brain just out of the park
92: first, second, or third person?
Third person! I don’t hate first person necessarily, but for some reason I prefer my fics third person. Novels in first person are cool tho, that doesn’t bother me
94: do you prefer dialogue or description?
Description. I think I tend to talk in a way that’s kind of awkward, and it translates into making my written dialogue awkward. The amount of times I go back and change it to sound more real and human before I post is unreal. Description is more fun to me, and I get to fuck around with metaphors and whatnot
98: what don’t you like about your writing style?
See above. Dialogue is icky
100: open question to the writer.
I’m not sure what this means. I’ll just use it to say I love you and this was fun, thank you for giving me something to do LMAO
6 notes
·
View notes