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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!
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Old Hat
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25th February, 1889 — Ministry Break Room
It may have been coming up on eighteen years of being in the Ministry, but Ewart had yet to develop even a pinch of disinterest in his work. Of course, he suspected that was because his committee was the only corner of the whole institution that wasn't dull as ditchwater - but oh, he pitied the rest of them, and all their humdrum.

He pitied them all the more when, upon occasion, he ventured up to one of the break rooms to mingle with the mundanes, and found himself sliding into boredom when he spent any longer here than the time it took to munch upon a sandwich.

(He had just finished his sandwich.)  

"Good day," Ewart said serenely to the person seated across from him, as though they had both not been in the room for at least a quarter of an hour already. He pointed across to the hat that had been set atop the table near them. "Is that, by any chance, your hat?"  

He had not seen them touch it, in the time they had been here. (And, you see, for the last quarter of an hour, he had been looking very intently at the hat.)

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   Elladora Black
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Roman did not often come into the break room at work, often working right through the day. This time around, however, he was feeling peckish and needed a break from paperwork. And so he had ventured into one of the break rooms and had procured a snack for himself.

Reading a newspaper as he nibbled at his snack, he looked up from it when one of the other Ministry workers spoke to him. "Good day," he greeted in return before turning his attention to the hat being pointed out to him. It was very decidedly not his. His was sitting on his office desk.

"It is not. Do you have a liking for it?" He asked since the older man seemed to be very... fascinated by it.
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Ewart couldn't fathom that the newspaper the younger man was reading - though he seemed to be well-enough engrossed in it - was at all an interesting pursuit to make up one's breaktime. And the hat, he said, was not his. All the better. It would surprise them both.

"A liking?" He echoed, chuckling mildly at the question. It was not an exceptional hat, in looks: it was of a safe shade and a modest trim, nothing flashy in personality, hardly a hat to crow about. But they would see, now wouldn't they?

If the young man proved agreeable, that was. "Let's reserve judgement on that, why don't we," Ewart said in a conversational non-answer, and instead leaned over a fraction closer. "Indeed, I had a hope you might do me a favour," he explained, gently nudging the hat towards the gentleman, "and pop it on for a moment."


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