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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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Brigit Langley for Fletcher Langley.
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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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The Reckless And The Brave
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1st March, 1889 — The Connolly House
@Finnian Byrne @Edric Umbridge
For the only Connolly that actually had left the family house (besides Desmond Byrne, whom no one had ever really counted as a Connolly in the first place), Lorcan Byrne did spend rather a lot of time lurking about the place. He hadn't intended to tonight, but he and Finnian had spent a little too long in one of the local pubs down the way, and out of nowhere, disconcertingly, Lorcan had found himself too squiffed to survive apparating back to London. Not that Finnian was much better. Pissed as newts, the pair of them.

So they had ambled on back to the family house, and managed - miraculously - to make it inside and up the darkened stairs in one piece. How quiet they had been in this endeavour, Lorcan couldn't say, but he deemed it a success anyway.

"Shame Maeve isn't shackled to Skeeter any more," Lorcan said, daring to raise his voice from a whisper once they'd reached the door to Finnian's room. He was a touch wistful about Maeve's annulment. For more reasons than one, really, although primary among those were the hilarity, and the potential for even more hilarity by making both the unhappy couple's lives more miserable than they already were. Not to mention - "I suppose that makes me the most scandalous cousin again." Lorcan declared with a roll of his eyes, (though not, admittedly, without a hint of pride).

Most scandalous, biggest disappointment in the Connolly family - he preferred to think of it in different superlatives. Why not most memorable? Most daring? (Coolest?) Poor old Finnian might have stood a chance, if he hadn't always been too tempted by tradition.


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Finnian couldn't say he'd enjoyed Skeeter's company—but then again, could anyone say that?—but he certainly missed being able to mess with the pair. Skeeter was paranoid, while Maeve was the sort of woman who instilled fear into any man who crossed her. It was a perfect match, at least for the sake of humor.

He slammed the door behind him as Lorcan moved into his bedroom, a lazy smile spread across his lips. "I'm not sure, Lor," he said, moving across the room. He sent himself sprawling across his bed on his back, his arms touching each corner of his bed. "Maeve is a divorced woman now. I'd say your neck-and-neck," he snickered.

Finnian was decidedly less scandalous than both his cousin and brother, but that was because he—somehow—had been sneakier than either one. "What do you think I'd have to do to best both of you? Start wearing dresses?" He envisioned himself in one of those fluffy ballgowns the debutantes wore. If he did wear a dress, he thought he'd look best in red.



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Lorcan hung onto a bedpost, watching intently as his brother sprawled across his bed with an admirable flourish, considering the amount of coordination they had left, between the two of them. Eventually, he flopped onto the floor, pleased he had managed to do so without planting his face on it.

"Yes, but she always had a headstart, she's a girl," Lorcan protested: Maeve would always be considered more rebellious and more disappointing because of her sex. She was supposed to be a young lady. Young men were supposed to be idiots, so Lorcan had to try much harder than she did to be disappointing.

(Well. Men had to try. He - didn't, so much. Scandal was a natural state of being, when one was as talented as he was.)

Lorcan snorted at the image Finnian presented him. "Nah, too easy." The world might get used to that. People might not even notice. "Start wearing nothing?" He mused, delighting in taking the topic as seriously as he could. Nudism was definitely a start, but Finnian could probably aim higher than being an eccentric loony. "Or wear your dresses, and start taking men to bed?"




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