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

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Iola Hitchens for Elladora Black. The Blacks' black sheep.
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 at least once with the same character every day for a month.


God Bless Us, Everyone
December 17th, 1888 — London
Eugene was feeling positively festive and merry despite the new challenges in life that he was facing with his missing leg. He had never considered himself to be especially dashing so he hadn't been concerned about his appearance. It was just a whole world harder for him to get work like this. Even so, while his life was not exactly wonderful, he was alive. The former Hufflepuff knew he had it a lot better than most.

Walking through the currently silent street of London, it didn't last long as he heard the hoofbeats of horses pulling carriages in the distance. White, fluffy snow fell as he hobbled his way towards the noise with his crutches. Wanting to be among people on this crisp Winter night. Maybe enjoy a mug of frosty butterbeer in one of the wizarding pubs.

Eugene looked up at the stars, noticing that one star seemed to be shining brighter than most. Distracted, he didn't notice the person in blue that was trying to speak to him.

Eugene returned from the Avalon Expedition minus a leg.
While Marmaduke certainly fancied himself revolutionary, it was an ideal first and foremost. You know, the Victorian Whole Foods of revolution. Buy from the grocer who says he donates 1% of it to charity sort of revolution. Get drunk and write something crass about his boss type of revolutionary.

And so, his first instinct on seeing a legless man out hobbling in the snow was to turn the other way and make a donation to one of those crippled youth foundations on the morrow. Would he ask for money if he spotted Marmaduke? Would it count in his favor if he bribed him not to, or was the moral thing to do to allow that sense of unease to penetrate his mortal coil?

The cold was doing that just fine, thank you very much.

… Hooves were pounding in the distance, and he was tempted to hail it. Which meant it would be unconscionable to leave this poor miser out to become a human snow man.

So be it.


C-clop, c-clop, c-clomp. Oh no, was Barstool Plus Arms here dumb, too? He tried to remedy this by walking in front of a man with crutches-bearing momentum to remedy that, before realizing he had few means of communicating. The result was a blank look as he tried to figure out this act of charity whilst making his recipient’s life considerably harder in the process.
Eugene was startled when a man stepped in front of him. Was the man mute? Aw, bless. "Can I help you?" Eugene asked politely. If the man wanted money, he didn't have any. Though his clothing suggested a higher station anyway. The man was rather handsome, Eugene thought, his skin a rather nice shading. Almost similar to Eugene's own partly Indian coloring. There was also the chance the man recognized him as one of the Avalon Expedition sailors. He did sometimes get asked questions about it.

Eugene returned from the Avalon Expedition minus a leg.
Marmaduke opened his mouth, closed it, smiled, and gestured oddly with his hands. He was far more well-spoken in, well, writing.

Goodness. He had not found a proper look at the man’s face from behind. He was a beautiful beggar. Had a woman been blessed with his features, she might be the sort the Witch Weekly warned about: the type that tempted a man’s heart beyond his soundness of mind. Not that the Witch Weekly knew anything about anything.

He opened his mouth and no sound came out.

The carriage came into sight now. Marmaduke looked over his shoulder, back to the gorgeous cripple, then thumbed  to it and made a walking motion with his two fingers. Then, on second thought, he frowned and dropped his hands entirely.

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