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First names were most often used by childhood or school friends. If the friendship was made after school age, first names would only really be used by women. Men were far more likely to refer to their friends by their surnames, a mark of familiarity. — Documentation

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Emilia Wright for Jude Wright. Casually alienating offspring since 18882.
Separating was also not a great idea, though they weren't doing great at staying together anyway. If she were to volunteer to be the human sacrifice.. well... Hogsmeade had plenty of debutantes anyway...

Barnabas Skeeter in CYOA: Group D

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Complete threads set in ten different forum locations. Threads must have at least ten posts, and three must be your own. Character accounts cannot be combined.


Don't Cry, 2020
See Inside 
Early hours of 10th September, 1888 — South Bartonburg Streets
He'd squinted at a clock in the High Street as the gathering finally dispersed: after midnight. Which meant his birthday was over now, technically. Which meant - no owl, no word, no card and no present and no nothing. Maybe there would be one when he got home, but... Tyb knew there wouldn't be. He hadn't sent her anything on her birthday, hadn't sent her anything since his 'made it back alive' missive. And, after all, even if things hadn't ended the way they had, even if it had not been as permanent as Elsie made it sound, not seeing each other had been his suggestion. Not writing was to be expected.

There had been a hollowness to the day, all the same. He'd been in good spirits earlier, through drinks with friends - he always was, in company - and it'd been his birthday, so no one was going to look twice if he'd downed everything like his life depended on it. Those good spirits were slipping away slightly, now, strewn along the streets with his scattered thoughts as one of the guys - mercifully - helped him home.

He liked the bunch of people he knew now. Shame this was his last birthday celebration with them, properly. They might carry on inviting him to things - he wasn't sure - but really it wouldn't be the same. "D'you think the blokes at the Ministry have any idea how to have a good time?" Tybalt wondered aloud, with the part of his brain that was not presently occupied with placing one foot in front of the other.   

Open to a ~quidditch dude or someone Tyb might be vaguely friendly with!
[-] The following 1 user Likes Tybalt Kirke's post:
   Elsie Beauregard

With four of his five sisters back at Hogwarts and the quidditch season in full-force, adulthood was finally beginning to settle for Handsome - or as much as it could settle, given his current mourning period and the gossip that still circulated through Hogsmeade every now and then. He'd tried his best to sober up, and to some degree, it had worked; he no longer carried a hidden flask on his person, nor did he feel compelled to stash them around the house. Social drinking was his biggest weakness now, but that pleasure wasn't one he'd yet deprived himself of.

That evening had been Kirke's birthday celebration, but Handsome had done the stupid thing - which was also the nice thing - in offering to take his friend home. Handsome had figured the somber vibes he was picking up from Kirke as the evening progressed were a side-effect of the alcohol rather than an indication of true problems.

(Besides, as someone whose problems seemed visible to those around him, Handsome was convinced he could always tell when someone was suffering. It was a naive belief, but his belief nevertheless.)

"I would think so," he responded absentmindedly, focused on getting his teammate home in one piece rather than idle chitchat. "With such a boring job and all, I'm sure most of them appreciate a good time."

[-] The following 1 user Likes Handsome Whitledge's post:
   Tybalt Kirke

this MJ set has killed me and sent me straight to heaven
Post Log

/enter the Tybsie fan girls

Declan went out with the lads whenever he had the chance — going out with out them sometimes, even. Surrounded by a household of women, he could only take so much. Sure, two of his sisters were at Hogwarts so it wasn't quite as crowded as it had been over the summer. Still. There wasn't many shenanigans one could get up to with your mother and little sisters in the house. Besides, it was Kirke's birthday! A perfectly good reason to be out.

Sadly, he was sobering up enough to have some vague embarrassment as he shuffled home. He hadn't planned on walking the birthday boy home - Whitledge had it handled - but they happened to be walking the same path that he was taking to get home himself.

"Nah," He shook his head, causing him to wobble on his feet, "They're jus' as borin' as their jobs - ya don't see them out drinkin' and havin' a good time do ya? They've sticks up their arses, the lot of 'em."
[-] The following 2 users Like Declan Wood's post:
   Elsie Beauregard, Tybalt Kirke
Tyb hung onto Whitledge's every word, much as his arm was hanging mindlessly off the Keeper's shoulder to make sure he kept walking in the right direction. A spark of relief flared up at the first part of his answer, but fizzled quickly out at boring job. Well, he shouldn't be surprised about that, should he? He'd known that for eons, known that on instinct. The Ministry was a place full of desks and paperwork and dull people, like all the worst parts of school. Maybe it was a life he could get used to again, if only he had Elsie to sit patiently by and tutor him through it -

His face fell anew, as though the ache had not already been eating through him all night, for weeks and months on end. Stupid of him, to have counted so much on one particular person to make his days worthwhile. He should have known better. But then, he had always been stupid, and slow to catch on, and it was better that she had come out with the truth now and not years down the line when he made an even bigger fool of himself. 'Course, without Elsie to count on as a bright side, looking forwards to the decision he had already made - would have to make regardless, as the first smart thing he had ever done - was much more dismal than he'd pictured.

The picture got no brighter at Wood's timely addition, even less optimistic than Whitledge's guess. "Yeah," he murmured. Boring jobs for boring people: Tyb supposed it made sense. Boring lives. (Tybalt was not sober enough to consider that maybe neither Wood nor Whitledge knew a damn thing about Ministry life or Ministry people, too concerned as he was with mulling over their answers.) Frowning from the taste of bile in his throat, Tyb careened away from Whitledge's support and took his next few paces with his eyes drifting to the ground, and then he looked up and pronounced, wry: "S'pose I'd better start looking for a stick, then." Somehow, the thought struck him as so despondent it was almost funny, and he barked out a brief laugh at his own joke.

[-] The following 1 user Likes Tybalt Kirke's post:
   Elsie Beauregard

Handsome flashed an annoyed glance in Wood's direction. He wondered whether the chaser had ever stepped foot in a Ministry office; it wasn't a place law-abiding citizens, apart from the employees themselves, normally visited unless they had complaints to make. His frown slipped even further when Wood's words obviously had a negative effect on the already dreary Kirke - unless his hysterical laugh could be counted as positive (and based off the involuntary furrowing of Handsome's brows and the chill that went up his spine, he guessed not).

"Not all of them," he countered, turning his head towards Wood to give him a wide-eyed, that's not helping sort of look. "I did two summers at the Ministry during my sixth and seventh year - one in Magical Accidents and Catastrophes and one in Magical Law Enforcement. There's definitely some lively people there." Admittedly the work was hell, but the people were generally nice...?

this MJ set has killed me and sent me straight to heaven
Post Log

Declan rolled his eyes at Whitledge's remark, wondering if the keeper's eyes were usually so big or if he'd drank too much absinthe and had begun to see things. He tipped his head back and let out a barking laugh, probably harsher than he'd intended, but he was drunk and likely wouldn't remember it in the morning.

"Here Kirke, lemme jus' take th'one outta Whitledge's arse and give it a lil' shove for ya," He pantomimed doing so, chuckling at his cleverness all the while. Had he been sober, he might've realized that Kirke had made an odd comment and asked for clarification. Instead, he dramatically wiped his hands on the front of his shirt, as if wiping off whatever muck had gotten on them from his stick transplant.

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