Language Of Flowers - Tumblr Posts

Thank you guys, I love these analyses of the subtleties of translation so much

English Translators: "Jaskier" translates as "Buttercup", but we can't just let a manly man use "Buttercup" as his nickname! That's way too feminine, and our readers would be horrified! Let's call him "Dandelion" instead. Yes, much better... Mucho macho...

Netflix & Joey Batey: Yeah, no. We'll just call him Buttercup by keeping the original Polish name, i.e. Jaskier.

So, this is our very own Prince Buttercup. He's a damoiseau in distress that's regularly in need of being rescued, enjoys chatting with animals, and might randomly break into song.

He feels very comfortable asking a strong, stoic, muscular man to accompany him to the Royal Ball for protection, and will attempt to convince him by rubbing chamomile onto his lovely bottom, giving him a bath, washing his stupid hair, and dressing him up in stylish, fine clothing.

He tends to see the good in everyone, and will spontaneously attempt to become friends with things that want to eat him (both figuratively and literally).

However he can occasionally become pretty condescending with commoners, and treat those that fail to appreciate his talent as beneath him; often with a complete disregard for his personal safety, as if it doesn't seem to occur to him right away that they'd actually dare lay their filthy hands on him.

He cries very pretty (so pretty), and will look at you with gorgeous doe eyes when he feels sad, hurt, scared, or needs a favor.

He's very distrustful and afraid of power-hungry sexy witches coming at him from many different angles, until they stop being all predatory and menacing, and begin rescuing and protecting him instead.

He gets along very well with other princes/princesses, and will resent not being invited to one of the most important social events of the Continent, but not getting to spend more time with them.

And he never experienced what romantic love truly was until he finally got to meet his very own Prince.

Obviously, Prince Radovid fell in love with our Buttercup at first sight, and was willing to give up his Kingdom for a chance to be by his side.

And as far as Prince Buttercup is concerned, he sees himself as a

because that's simply who he is, and that's also what masculinity looks like.

So, unless Jaskier, in the books, is a very insecure man that constantly worries about being mistaken for a woman, I can't help but find it hilarious that the translators of the books, in English, got so worried over "Buttercup" sounding feminine...

...when the character himself likely wouldn't have been bothered by the way it sounds in the least, and would totally have rocked that nickname while making it work perfectly for a guy!

Hell! As a non-native English speaker, other than the fact that I've seen the movie "The Princess Bride", and the princess in it was named "Buttercup", my brain does not at all perceive "Buttercup" as inherently feminine, nor "Dandelion" as inherently masculine.

Perhaps because, in French, each word has its own gender, and "bouton d'or" (i.e. "buttercup", but the literal translation would be "button made of gold") is masculine.

Un bouton d'or (a buttercup) is masculine.

Un pissenlit (a dandelion) is masculine.

Une rose (a rose) is feminine.

Une tulippe (a tulip) is feminine.

Etc.

"Princess Buttercup" is thus named "Princesse Bouton d'or" (it's actually the title of the movie) in French.

But "Bouton d'or" (Buttercup) is, by itself, a masculine word.

The funny thing is that, where I'm from, I think the dandelion is literally the single most hated flower I can think of.

When I was a kid, my parents - and pretty much all our neighbors - spent countless hours trying to remove every single dandelion they could find on their lawn and in their garden while making sure to fully eliminate the whole root, because they tended to replace all the grass, and some of the other flowers and plants from their garden.

Some of our neighbors had their lawns treated with very harsh chemicals (many of which are thankfully illegal today) in a desperate effort to get rid of them.

Dandelion always makes allergy season a complete and utter nightmare, makes it harder to breathe outside (those floating bits clouding the air always get stuck in your nose, throat or even eyes), it also clogs the air filter of your car...

And, when you cut them at the stem, your hands wind up all sticky and smelling awful.

Unless they want to make a point that they'll be extremely annoying, unwanted, sticky, smelly, trying to get into every single exposed orifice of your body as soon as you're exposed to them, and hard to get rid of, why would anyone ever wish to nickname themselves "dandelion"?

I mean, "pissenlit", the French name for "dandelion", comes from "pisse-en-lit" and literally means "peeing-in-bed".

Because if you eat dandelion leaves, they will make you pee and wet your bed (they have a strong diuretic effect).

Yes, we hate the dandelion so much, that we've decided to name that freaking flower "peeing-in-bed".

So, if you go from the original Polish name to the English translation of the name, and then translate the English name back to French...

You've essentially replaced:

Jaskier - > Buttercup - > Button made of gold (Bouton d'or).

By

Jaskier - > Dandelion - > Peeing-in-bed (Pissenlit).

It's hilarious!

All because some English translator got scared "Buttercup" would sound "too feminine".

The good news is that we kept Jaskier's name as "Jaskier" in the French translation of the books and the games. Although Bouton d'or would have worked just fine.

But yeah, come on! Jaskier would have made a beautiful Buttercup!

#the art of creating some gender issue where there's none.

When in doubt, just ask the character...

Would Jaskier have had what it took to call himself a "Buttercup"?

You bet your lovely bottom and bloated biceps he would have!

Still can't wrap my mind around him being a peeing-in-bed flower in English... Just... Nope! Does not compute.

folklore botanical stamps 💐 [zoom for hq]

My favorite flower! It represents a lot of beautiful things, my favorite being "Return of Happiness".

Lily of the valley (=｀ω´=)☘️ You can grab wallpaper HERE!

Day of Love.

CHAPTERED FICS

With Eyes Wide Shut (We’re Close But Not Enough):

Complete (2/2), 28k, friends to lovers, explicit

Fear of Falling:

Ongoing, (4/9), 67k, strangers to lovers, teen and up

Redamancy:

Ongoing (1/5), 6.7k, strangers to lovers, explicit

For The Love Of The Game:

Complete (10/10), 68k, rivals to lovers, teen and up

Strawberry Sky:

Complete (8/8), 42k, established relationship, mature

Clueless:

Complete (7/7), 31k, friends to lovers, explicit

Mercury Retrograde:

Complete (8/8), 44k, exes to lovers, explicit

My Little Secret:

On-going (1/5), +20k, teen pregnancy, explicit later on

MASTER LIST

[Start ID: A digital drawing of a bouquet of flowers on a solid light green background. The flowers are in the colours of the aromantic pride flag, with some extra green leaves as decoration. Above the bouquet it says "LET WONDER RESTORE YOU" in black text. At the bottom of the bouquet is OPs signature that says "CJD 2024". End ID]

Fern, for magic

Eucalyptus, for protection

White camellia, for steadfastness

Silver sage, for esteem

Black tulip, for power

AroAce Version

Ace Version

Decorative front cover, title page and some decorated pages taken from ‘The Coloured Language of Flowers’.

Published 1886 by George Routledge & Sons, Limited.

Chicago Botanic Garden, Lenhardt Library.

archive.org

The language of flowers..

Polite Society at Home and Abroad, 1891

warning, it’s long, but there’s a lot of really great specifics, like:

you are a fop good but odd you will cause my death I declare war against you intellectual but heartless false and gay handsome but dangerous your looks freeze me an enemy in disguise

Czytaj dalej

Written in response to a request & also (almost as an afterthought but it just fell into place so nicely) as a writing challenge using as three word prompt of 1) Faye 2) dry martini 3) red ☺️

***

Her perfume smelled like roses.

He remembered that from their first meeting. In an overcrowded casino that reeked of spilt booze, sweat, air-conditioning, and money - cutting through all the standard human scents and manufactured ones, like a breath of fresh air. Roses.

He'd always been a sucker for that aroma. Julia had found it amusing. She'd been pleased enough with the bouquet when he presented it to her, but she'd later admitted that it wasn't her favorite scent. Marigolds. Lovely enough but the scent was acrid. Reminded him of fires. But she thought his affinity for roses was endearing. Truth be told, sometimes he felt like a child when he'd offer her a red bloom - like a little boy playing at big emotions and being condescendingly coddled as a way of keeping him happy.

It had been the meaning behind the flowers that he was trying to convey to her, something she had to understand. Love, passion, romance and desire. All things that she had ultimately been indifferent to.

Letting the last bouquet drop carelessly to the concrete, letting his heart wash away down the street with the petals that fell from the bud, he gave up on love. On the silliness of romance. On the instability of desire. On the pursuit of a passion that gave life meaning.

Then, unexpectedly, the sweet smell wafted softly back into his life.

She'd been coy and charming at first, saucy and sassy afterwards, and then she made off with the money and he felt his heart tug as if to chase after her. It had been exciting, amusing, and overall refreshing to have her grace his life with her exuberant presence.

And then suddenly she was back again - all the money gone, along with her fuel, and stranded in space until they'd decided to pick her up. Well, Jet had suggested bringing her in for the bounty she had on her head and Spike had gone along with that plan just for a chance to verbally spar with her again.

Then she'd gone and flipped their tentative plan on its head. She'd put her butt on the line, risked her own life - for the reward? Maybe. Spike didn't think so though. Whatever her motive, it swayed Jet enough to let her stay instead of collecting woolongs by turning her in.

Delightfully, disturbingly, his world was now awash in the soft, heady aroma of roses. Whether it was her shampoo, her conditioner, her lotion, her perfume… all were rose scented. It should have been cloying, overpowering, enough to gag a man.

He couldn't get enough.

So he let her take first showers. He took advantage of opportunities to sit next to her on the couch. He'd stand downwind of her when they were on the deck of the ship.

And then, after he'd laid all his ghosts to rest, he decided to take it all a step further.

It started with a yellow rose that he left in the cockpit of her zipcraft, along with a pack of her preferred brand of smokes. She came in wielding it like a sword and demanded to know why it had been left there.

"Figured by now we were friends," He'd replied honestly with a shrug. It was enough to placate her, and he watched as she buried her nose in the bloom to inhale deeply before wandering off to her room without another word on the matter.

Then, a few weeks later, he left an orange rose on the birthday gift he'd gotten her - one of the trashy paperback novels she secretly adored. This one garnered no verbal response, but she did blush deeply before sneaking off to her room with the book in hand and the rose held to her nose.

After that he couldn't wait any longer. He left a purple rose in front of her door the very next day and then he went to the bridge and bribed Jet to take Ed to the museums in town. Fortunately, they were in Alba City and there were plenty of those - history museums, aircraft museums, museums of science and space. With luck they'd be gone the better part of the day.

Working quickly, Spike set a trail of petals leading up the stairs to the bridge and then scattered more in a path to the windows at the front of the command room. He arranged a bouquet of seven roses in the middle of a square fold out table upon which he'd placed several take out containers, a pair of plates, and their drinks. A dry martini for her, garnished with a lemon twist, and a whiskey on the rocks for him.

Finally, to really set the mood, he fiddled with the Bebop's radio until he found a station playing jazz. The soothing notes of Ahmad Jamal's 'Soul Girl' filled the air just before the sound of Faye's heels rang out as she ascended the stairway.

"You know, a person could read a lot into all this," Faye called out as she sashayed into the bridge proper. She was wearing one of his button up shirts, the purple rose tucked into the button hole between her breasts, with one of his ties affixed around her trim waist like a belt, and her heeled white boots. Spike's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as he regarded her.

Licking his lips, Spike gestured at the table laden with food and flowers.

"No need to strain," He managed after a moment, brain catching up to her words. "Everything is spelled out pretty clearly, I'd say."

"Mm," She murmured in reply, slinking her way closer. "You're a changed man these days. Coming back from the dead seems to agree with you."

He rolled his eyes skyward. "I went there to see if I was really alive, not to die at all." But then he fixed his mismatched eyes on her. "I don't see the past out of one eye anymore, Faye. I see you, right now, in this present moment."

"I remembered my past, Spike." She replied as she reached him and slipped past him to tuck herself into one of the seats and began opening the take out boxes. "Mmm, dumplings, rice balls, noodles, wontons, Peking duck, and moon cakes?!" Faye reached out for the martini glass and took a generous sip.

"Admittedly the Peking duck was mostly to appease my own appetite, but I know you love the rest." Spike confided.

Faye set down her drink and smirked at him, then moved closer to the roses to inhale deeply. "Ohhh, roses are my favorite. Their scent is just so rich, so sinful…" Her gaze lingered on the blossoms for a moment before lifting up to peer at him over the top of the red blooms. "As I was saying…my memories came back. Nothing useful really, nothing that changes where I belong at least. But I do recall something about flowers. Quite a bit about flowers in fact. Did you know there's a whole language of meaning in flowers?" She leaned back in the chair to toy with the purple rose still snugged in the button hole.

"I may be fairly well versed in that language as a matter of fact." Spike said as he slid into the seat across from her and began dishing up the food onto their plates.

"I suspected as much after the orange one. The yellow didn't have to mean a thing but by the time the purple one showed up… well…"

"You've got some thorns, Valentine. Didn't want to get myself pricked… but you're also impossible to resist I hope you know." Picking up her martini glass to hand to her, relishing the smoothness of her skin as she let her fingers shift along his before claiming the stem of the vessel within her own grasp, Spike nearly shivered with delicious anticipation. Taking his own tumbler in hand, he tilted it towards her with a sincere look on his face.

"A toast, my dear, to…exploring urges…and perhaps seeing what may come of this spark between us." He held his breath as she raised an eyebrow and considered him for a long minute.

At last she tipped her own glass to chime against his in salute.

"To pursuing the potential…as long as we remember to stop and smell the roses from time to time." Her smile at him then changed from seductive to something warmer, touched with a more meaningful type of promise.

Perhaps romance, desire, passion and yes even love were still destined to be a part of his life.

Well…who says you can’t do both?

BEHOLD

And totally because I’m not like a nerd or anything

✨🪷 Floriography Flowers ✨🪷

Clematis: Represents both ingenuity and cleverness (which I feel like you exempt through both your art and how you engage with fellow tumblrs. Like you are so polite and healthy that is absolutely refreshing to read your asks)

Foxglove: Meaning riddles and secrets (because I genuinely can’t get a read on you and your stories + work always leave me incredibly stunned because MAN I did NOT see that coming)

Anyhoo, 👉🏼😅👈🏼 I hope this doesn’t come across as love bombing or anything and makes you feel uncomfortable, just really admire ya respectfully and you inspire me, so…ya…🧡👊🏼

Telling On Yourself: Pt. 1

//Feeling super "FLUFF-Y"--

...Ohmygosh-- I need to draw this ridiculously intimate or love-y thing-- IT'LL BE WONDERFUL--!!!💜💜💜

//Starts sketching--

...But what if--

//Chooses different pose-- Character is now solo--

...Okay, I can still--

//Adds a toothy grin or smirk-- Expression becomes intimidating--

...Alright, maybe just--

//Adds battle scars, wounds, blood, etc.-- Stares at canvas--

...

...MAN--

Ok, so this picture was so incredibly wholesome that I HAD to try and redraw it because it legitimately made me cry. I had to no joke pull over because I was getting teary while on the road.

This picture means a lot to me for two reasons: #1 I’m 5ft 8” and on the heartier side of things, so usually I’m the tallest/ biggest or one of the taller folks whenever I engage in with company. So to imagine having one of my favorite characters just pick me up and cradle me like a child made me A: incredibly flustered and B: it did something funny to my heart.

I don’t necessarily have an emotionally safe relationship with my pops at the moment, so it makes it hard to accept hugs from him. And not to mention, because I’m again the “bigger friend”, I’m usually the person giving hugs. I don’t get hugs. Especially those good Dad Hugs. So imagining getting a hug from Sprout…well…it definitely filled an empty part of my heart. So @intotheelliwoods thank you for this. I…I kind of needed it so it meant a lot.

Also I drew myself with my arm sleeves because I wanted to match Poptart. I really struggle with picking my arms due to a skin condition that I have, so I wear my arms sleeves to try and prevent that. I guess just another reason why I relate to these guys.

I’m also a nerd who loves Floriography, or the Victorian Language of Flowers, so I wanted to include a little something extra to show my thanks. Honeysuckle to show how much I adore 2 Arms Left; it’s got a sweet little spot in my heart. And Sweet Pea to just keep cheering y’all on and to say thank you for everything. Literally.

And then of course my signature orange heart to represent warmth, friendship, and care.

It’s a lot of words, so thanks for reading. Just know this. You made my week a little better by just being your sweet self. I know life is hard and hurt can be heavy, but I promise you. You’re making a difference. Thank you for existing. 🫵🏼✨🧡🫂🌎

AHhh so many hugs and so little time! <3

And thank you so much for your message @theanonymousninja247 it really made my week! 🥺