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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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Carson Bixby for Sloane Bixby. You can take the middle-aged man out of quidd—oh, apparently you can't.
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.


Bros Before Hoes
April 11, 1888 - Thomas Tilcott's Bartonburg Rooms
Thomas Tilcott Rufus Bixby
David had been bored since the night at his brother's, not really sure what to do with himself in Hogsmeade. The small little wizarding town didn't really feel like home anymore, not with as much moving around as he did. It was still the place he went to when not off doing his own thing though so clearly that meant something, didn't it? Regardless, he'd hated every minute of it and as soon as it seemed to be an appropriate time to head to Tilcott's rooms in Bartonburg, he'd headed straight there.

A couple of bottles were stashed inconspicuously on his person, shrunk down to easily be tucked into pockets, as he loped up the steps to his friend's rooms. He'd brought extras after the mention of Bixby joining them, sounding as though the other Quidditch player was in need of the added boost.

He knocked on the door and waited patiently but the patience didn't last long. He probably hadn't' been standing there for long but it felt like an eternity before he was pounding on the door again. He could certainly hear movement in there so he knew Tilcott was certainly in there. "Open the damned door you bloody bastard," he shouted to the door, not bothering to keep his voice quiet. Surely the other man would open the door sooner if David started to make a scene.
It started with three knocks in quick succession and Thomas peered over from his small desk and smirked. He wanted to play a game.

Holding onto his wand, Thomas shuffled on his chair and began counting. David, Thomas had come to know very early in their friendship, wasn't a very patient man at the best of times though the chaser had never explicitly tested these limits on his friend - and what better way to test it them now?

One. Two. Three.
So far so good.
Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.

Thomas stood up, put his wand on his desk, and moved to a small cabinet he had in his room which housed three glasses. He pulled them out and put them down on his desk loudly - just so David knew he was there.

It took not 17 seconds before the barrage of bangs accompanied by the sweet sounds of damned door you bloody bastard and with that, he opened the door with a swish of his wand.

Thomas started laughing as he moved over to greet his friend, "Why the shoutin', Davey? All ya' had to was knock, you bloody imbecile." He said through his laughter, leaning in to shake David's hand and give him a welcoming pat on the back.

Moving back to the desk, Thomas sat on his chair - there was another one situated at the end of his bed by a wall - and flicked his wand toward the door once more.

The door slammed shut and Tommy turned to his first guest, "When Bixby gets 'ere, I want you to hide in my closet and jump out when I say... er... erm... hag-breast." Thomas shrugged, "And I'm seein' a distinct lack of alcohol, David. Don't make me upset now." Thomas said with a mocking upset expression.
There were two things that Rufus had learned from the arrival of Miss Fortuna Lockhart’s last letter. One, that he had most certainly led her to a certain conclusion that could not be maintained. Two, that he would miss her friendship. The dejected hurt that spread through him as he read her letter with shaking fingers had indicated that the hurt went deeper than simply missing her companionship and her company. But she had been right, it was better to leave her alone, regardless of what his feelings for her might have been. She deserved to be able to find someone that would be able to not make her wait. Someone who would not mean that she would live life with anything missing financially. It was one thing to flirt with a young woman, but to know their feelings went deeper…. Rufus couldn’t lead her on like that. He cared about her too much - and that was the very truth he was terrified of facing.

Ignoring his own feelings Rufus simply knew he needed a night out. He needed to get Miss Lockhart and her books, her conversations, and her damnable smiles out of his mind. What better way than to catch up with old friends? When Tommy had sent him the invitation Rufus had of course accepted, it was even better that Pettigrew would be there, but now with these circumstances? He was more than thrilled to indulge in such an evening. As such he arrived at Tommy’s apartment right on time and knocked on the door with something close to relief that he’d no longer need to think of the letter now folded in the back of his desk.

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BEE-utiful set!
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David narrowed his eyes in a glare once Thomas finally did answer the door. "I'll show you bloody imbecile," he said with a snort as his hand was shook and back patted. He stepped inside and promptly flung himself on the man's bed, completely ignoring the chair. He had no ideals of sitting on a hard old chair when there was a bed he could be properly comfortable on. Besides, he was still suffering from the massive time change and the cold weather of Britain. He really should see about simply staying in the warmer climates at all times.

"You're a damned idiot," he said at the man's idea of hiding in the closest though he couldn't help but to laugh, "I'm not about to get in your damned closet. I know you well enough to know I'll wind up locked in it and then who knows what will happen." He was still laughing even as the Quidditch player started acting as though he were tough in regards to alcohol not having been brought.

He fished into his pockets to procure several tiny bottles of alcohol and laid them out on the bed. "I couldn't very well be seen walking around with full sized bottles of alcohol now could I?" he questioned as he brought his wand out just as there was a knock on the door. "Let him in quicker than you did me and I'll get to bringing these back to their rightful size." He started doing just that, each bottle different from the rest. One a good ol' firewhiskey, one a bottle of mezcal style tequila with the worm in the bottom like he'd shown Thom, another tequila though of a higher end, a gin he'd found in South America and then a brandy. Certainly plenty to see the three gentleman thoroughly sloshed.
David had referred to Thomas as an idiot and Thomas couldn't help but think; it takes one to know one. Though he quickly realised how silly that sounded and elected to change the subject onto the topic of alcohol.

"So you bring bottles fit for a drop? How in Merlin's beard-" Thomas began to speak just as a knock permeated through the room. He turned to the door and raised his voice at the very thought of actual real life size bottles of alcohol and not the toy sized ones David had produced; "It's open, Bixby. Pettigrew 'as already stolen the bed."

Thomas nodded toward Rufus as his teammate entered and his expression turned momentarily sour, "Why's your face look like a trolls bottom, Bixby? You're meant to be 'appy. You're gonna be drinkin'..." Thomas trailed off as he moved over to his bed and picked up a bottle.

Shaking it, he looked at the bottom rather confused, "Worm piss apparently. Davey, you aware there's an animal in our drink?"

David had weird taste.
Rufus could hear the two men speaking through the door, he shook his head in amusement and let himself into Tommy’s apartment. The scene that greeted him was of old friends adjusting into the way things had once been even though time has passed them by, almost as if they had only just gotten out of school.

He snorted at Tommy’s observation of his face and shook his head dismissively. “Always assuming the world’s as happy go lucky as you.” He brushed the comment off. There was no reason a letter should get in the way of having a good time with these blokes.

At the comment of drinks Rufus laughed, “You sure that’s not in your head Tommy. I thought we cured you of seeing things.” Rufus approached the bed and eyed the bottle that Tommy held a bit warily. While he doubted Tommy’s assessment of worm piss he would need to be in a dire place to drink something with an animal in it.

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David quickly snatched the bottle back from Thomas and rolled his eyes. "Uncultured swine," he said with a smirk as he put the bottle down and grabbed the firewhiskey, tried and true, "I'll have you know that worm's piss is a delicacy in Mexico. It's called mezcal, a type of tequila that burns like a a dirty whore but is one of the best to get you thoroughly sloshed."

He cracked the bottle of firewhiskey open then and took a hearty swig of it before handing it off to whoever grabbed it first then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "And they say that whoever gets the worm at the end," he continued on, ignoring any strange looks his friends may give him cause surely they would, "Is said to have good luck for a year. 'Tis a good omen!"

He eyed Rufus then and offered him up said good luck bottle of tequila. "And you my friend, look as though you could be using some," he said with a nod as if it would help to get the other man to actually take the bottle from him.
"The world is a shit, Bixby. Stop takin' it serious and you'll be as 'appy as I am!" Thomas exclaimed as he went to grab the bottle of tequila. Happiness, to Thomas, was a simple feeling.

It was the feeling of sitting on a stick and throwing balls around all day or, failing that, it was either gambling or alcohol. The simple things, really; none of that complicated nonsense like "love" needed to be involved.

At Bixby's comment, Thomas swirled the bottle a little and sure enough; the literal worm sloshed in the alcohol. Thomas squirmed a little as he watched it with awe, shock, curiosity, and fear. What the fuck kind of drink came with worms?

Apparently the answer was some Mexican delicacy. Thomas raised an eyebrow and grabbed the firewhiskey before taking a swig. He shook his head as the burn went down his throat, "Davey, I think the Mexicans 'ad you mate. I don't think drinkin' worm piss then eating the worm is somethin' people do."

Thomas shrugged and took a second swig of the whiskey seeing as Rufus was being offered the tequila, "I'd rather 'ave firewhiskey than a good omen in the form of a dead worm, Davey. But Bixby," Thomas moved to sit on a chair, "You should eat the Mexican worm. Davey says it's good luck, after all!" He chuckled and offered the whiskey up to someone, "But you can't beat whiskey, boys."
Rufus could indeed use some luck right now, and alcohol was pretty close to luck - or at the very least a good stop gap. Luck at the end of the bottom might be an added bonus. Taking the bottle without comment he tilted it in a salute to the others, “Bottoms up gents.” Rufus took a large swig of a ‘worm piss’ it burned a trail down his throat although not as numbing as firewhiskey did.

Offering the bottle to his friend, Rufus couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Tommy’s objections. “Like a little luck would hurt you Tilcott. After all you’re the one that owns a broom with murderous intentions.” He flopped down on the bed, inclined to agree that he liked whiskey, but they all came to the same outcome didn’t they? Drinking yourself to a peaceful oblivion for a few hours before it all caught up in a storm of hell the next morning.

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BEE-utiful set!
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David shook his head in response. "Tommy, you're an idiot," he said simply before grabbing one of the unclaimed bottles of alcohol still on the bed by him. He almost felt bad for Bixby. Having to put up with Tilcott on a daily basis. Friends they may be, but Tommy certainly had a way about him at times.

"So what's the story, Bixby?" he asked after he'd taken a big swig of his own bottle, "Tommy said you've got some girl problems. You do know girls are nothing but trouble." Not that he had any experience first hand himself. He avoided women at all costs. They just..he almost shuddered at the thought.
Shaking away the worm infused drink, Thomas took a swig of the firewhiskey and exhaled, "First, I ain't an idiot," He shook his head as the recognisable burn ran down his throat, "And second, that broom is in my cupboard. I got a new one - wanna see?"

The chaser stood up and began to move toward his small broom cupboard before stopping in his tracks and turning to Rufus, "I didn't say anythin'! But go on, what's eatin' you?"

And instead of sitting back down, Thomas elected to lean against his cupboard and listen. He was happy to just stay here and drink all night with his friends. They were both handfuls on their own right but they were loyal and good company - and that was something Thomas enjoyed.
There were times when Tommy really was like a child, new brooms were one of those times. Rufus shook his head in amusement. "Hopefully this one won't try to kill you. I'm not going to patch you up next time."

Conversation turned to Rufus's latest troubles, giving a half hearted glare at Tommy (who honestly might have been telling the truth given the circumstances) before looking at Pettigrew. "You could say that again. Apparently I am the latest issue of whatever that Witch publication is." And the amount of trouble it had caused him too. Not that the publication was to blame, no Miss Dippet was more at cause for that - and partially Rufus's luck with the ladies it seemed.

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BEE-utiful set!
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David wasn't exactly one to pry. Truly, he didn't quite care when it came to problems of the female variety. He avoided them himself. Not because he didn't like the idea of a woman but because they unnerved him. He'd botched the one kiss he'd ever had, after all. But he wasn't about to tell these guys that's the most he'd ever shared with a girl. One very bad kiss. Man, he was a poor example of a man.

"Well, my advice, forget all of 'em," he said with a nod before taking a swig of his own alcohol. Not that he was any sort of expert on the matter. He could at least pretend to be one.
“Nah, brooms won’t kill me. If they do, I’ll kill ‘em first,” Thomas said with a definitive nod before conversation turned to Rufus.

He had to agree with David, though, forgetting all women was the best way. There was quidditch and… more quidditch. What more could you want?

“Here here!” Thomas said, raising the bottle he had claimed as his own and taking a hearty swig, “To… Whatever.”

After swallowing quite clumsily, Thomas decided he was bored of talking about Rufus’ troubles and turned his focus to David, “Say, Pettigrew, ‘ow long you in Hogsmeade for?”

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