Did you know?
The Language of the Flowers was a popular method to express feelings where words might be improper, but did you know other means of doing so? Some ladies used their parasols, as well as their fans, gloves, and hankies to flirt with a gentleman (or alternatively, tell them to shove it!). — Bree ( Submit your own)
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Questionable Friend/Crush for Philip Aymslowe.
When your mum thinks you're gay for your best friend (but you probably are)
This boy, then. He wasn't new. Wasn't one of the worst people in the common room, those rotten rich boys - like Mr. Jailkeeper - who could not fathom a world beyond their own farts. Was a good working class lad, so he'd heard. Had a bit of a weird looking face, and a bit of a weird thing for preaching. Still.Aubrey Davis in The Under-Sofa
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Post 3+ times in three or more class threads during the course of a school year. Must all be done with the same character, be they a professor, student, or school portrait or ghost!

Diary of L. Elizabeth Thompson
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[Image: rrrvintage_pastel_floral_white_shop_preview.png]

This Diary Belongs
L. Elizabeth Thompson

[Image: Free-Watercolor-Border-Flowers-PNG.png]
1883, 9th July

The sun had barely found time to grace me in its glory when suddenly I felt her presence in the room, grandmother had come to my quarters awake me before anyone else gather to celebrate this day. She helped get me dress up in something warm, one of her gifts was awaiting me outside. I had a feeling what might be in store, since a few weeks ago I heard movement in the stables, although, I dismiss my thoughts as I recall my beloved uncle would often retire to the stables to groom his prize horse, Lancelot.

As we head downstairs I could listen the servants arising in the kitchen, one of them heard us and came take a look if we need it anything, grandmom reassure that everything was fine, they let us be, as we head through the winter garden, one of my favourite rooms in the house, which head to the back garden. From that point we moved to the stables, it was a bit cold outside, but my heart was anxious that could not even bother with such peculiar matters. Suddenly I recall a dream I head in which I was walking alongside grandmother and as the sunrise I heard the cry of a horse, majestically trotting in my direction. I was shaken from my oniric thoughts when I hear a cry like the one I dream follow by my grandmother words "Letitia, you know how much I treasure your company, and I thought that you deserve something extraordinary to make this point of your life memorable. Go on, look inside the stables, your gift awaits you." could it be true? I wonder as I step inside the stable, there, I saw it: a young white pony who seems to be waiting for me. I immediately fall head to heels for her, Gwyniver, that is what I would call her, in honor of the lady who captivates King Arthur's heart.
1883, 10th July

I refrain from putting everything into words, as yesterday party had drained the strength of me to pour my heart in these blank pages. Although it was a wonderful day, I could not ask for more. Father gave me a new dress in a rosy peach shade as well a locket with a portrait of he and Mother, although mother portrait often wanders off just like Mother, she is dreadful with Bartholomew every passing quarter of the time, anxious that he might need her. Mother gave a few editions of the latest up charts novels, a majority were romances from what I manage to glimpse. Aunt Charlotte gift me with a few trendy hats for when I went outside, they are beautiful, although a bit over the top for my gardening activities. Uncle Clarence gave this journal, along with it a beautiful quill which releases a lovely aroma everytime I write, right now it smells like the tea garden that Grandmother Myrtle had brought from their old residence, I think she misses now and then her old house, since I often see her in that garden reading a book or making notes.

There were other gifts, my grandparents had paid ahead for some tutoring classes of music and riding, however, when no one was around Grandmother Myrtle pull me aside and said in a fortnight she would bring her along to instruct in the healing arts, I confess, I was thrilled but I kept my poise, and thanks, her for allowing me to observer at her work. A few family friends drop by after brunch and stayed until the middle afternoon, by dusk we had supper and after farewell of everyone I retired to my quarters. Although, that dream of the field of daisies still haunts me now and then, what could this mean, I wonder...

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