valesco ; a harry potter rpg

WHO: Siena Orpington and Thomas McCormack
WHAT: He's helping her out wit her little problem
WHERE: A quidditch pitch!
WHEN: Today?

( This is the sort of shit everyone keeps telling me to stop doing )

♥

WHO: Thomas McCormack and Cara Flume
WHAT: Making the best of a situation
WHERE: Some...event!
WHEN: Last night?

( Can you imagine the uproar if I concussed the Arrows captain... )

Who! McCormack and McTavish
What! Locker room chats
Where! Arrows Locker Room
When! Today?
Status? Possibly finishing in comments?

( Thomas was not particularly sure how he felt about this McTavish scenario. )

ooc: Have a character shipping off to Paris on Sunday that wants to say some good-byes? Post here!
Ideas: Team England Party @ Grail's bar | Last minute packing | Portkey Terminal | etc.!
...maybe it doesn't have to be quidditch related? dun dunn who's taking off as well?

Kendall pushed back his plate completely full. Perhaps too full. Resting his hand on his stomach, he looked down with a small frown wondering if it was obvious that he hadn’t been working out as much not. Most of his normal routine hadn’t been allowed while the healers tried to figure out what was wrong with him and his eating habits hadn’t changed much either. If anything he was eating more.

“I need to stop cooking so much food,” he groaned looking over to Thomas. He had been meeting for lunch almost weekly now, mostly so he could assure his friend that he was still fine. It had been easier that it should have been to avoid talking about his and Jinty’s adventure to Peru. Of course, he had told Thomas that he had being seeing Jinty. It would have been impossible to hide with how much time they have been spending together. Though he hadn’t mentioned that she was living here now. Kendall usually just steered the conversation to the latest from the healers, or recently, Euro Cup.

This week though, his secret wasn’t the only thing weighing on his mind. His appointment at Mungo’s this morning had, for the first time in months, ended with more than the healers assuring him that they were getting closer to figuring it out. No, this time, the entire time was spent explaining exactly what was wrong, and what they were supposed to do now. It was great, there was a plan, but it didn’t take long for everything that Kendall had been steadfastly avoiding to come crashing down.

“So,” Kendall started, flexing his fingers out of habit. ’Tell him about Jinty,’ he told himself. ’Or Mungo’s. Or Quidditch.’ “Ready for Paris?”

Spread & Share the ♥!
OOC: Cards/Gifts from your characters to their loved ones can be posted here!! Have fun!

WHO: Kendall Broadmoor and Thomas McCormack
WHAT: Hospital visits and revelations
WHERE: St. Mungo's
WHEN: Today!

( Is it true that they down a pint before each match? )

hogsmeade fright-fest | state dinner masquerade | trick-or-treating | and more...!

Heading back to France was not something she imagined herself doing any time soon. It was a beautiful country, and she had spent many years there in an attempt to distance herself from what was going on in the UK at the time. Her country had been at war with you-know-who and his army of Death Eaters, and she couldn't stand to spend another moment in a country where nothing but terrible, traumatic things had happened to her and the ones she loved. France had been an escape for her, but now she was being sent back against her will, all because more terrible things were happening.

She hadn't been harmed in any of the events that had occurred in the league over the last few weeks – she had gotten a bit scraped up at the riot due to some debris that had hit her from the falling press box, but many players from her team had been hospitalized. And for what? No one even knew why the riot had started in the first place. There were speculations, but all the reports she had read were incredibly vague. Then there was the disaster with Geoffrey Brand, and last but not least the shootings at Caerphilly.

Her stomach dropped when she read about what had occurred. A renowned player had died, and the Minister had decided to cut the season short for the safety of the players and the fans who attended their games. She was honestly relieved, knowing she didn't have to step foot onto a pitch and worry about whether she or anyone else would be making it out alive.

She was in the middle of packing up her things when she heard someone at her door. Folding the shirt she had in her hand, she placed it in her suitcase and scooted past her dog to get to the door. She smiled at the sight of Thomas standing on the other side. "I wasn't expecting to see you today," she said, moving out of the way so that he could come inside. Shutting the door, she turned around to give him her attention, her thumbs slipping into the back pockets of her jeans.

"I was just getting the rest of my things together."

He should probably stop cooking. In fact Kendall should have stopped cooking long ago, at this point there was more than enough food. It was the only thing that could calm his anxiety. Staring at the spread on the counter, he tried to figure out what he was missing. Surely he hadn't gone through all the breakfast foods yet. Pancakes, waffles, crepes, omelets, french toast, eggs benedict. Oh, parfait. And muffins! Those were missing.

"I'm out of eggs." Kendall frowned picking up his bloody mary, moving over to sink into a chair at the table with his friends. Running out of ingredients put a quick halt to his cooking frenzy. He did not want to go to Germany any more than Rose wanted to go to the United States. He would have been just fine with the season ending. After this season, with the riots, the wards breach at Caerphilly, players getting attacked on the pitch, Kendall felt so done with quidditch. It was enough to make any player feel that way, but when he added on his dismal performance, Kendall wondered if it was even worth going to Germany.

"You should trade places with me, Rose." He pulled a waffle onto his plate, not feeling any better about this situation. He couldn't cook anymore, but he could eat. Rose should be staying in Europe to play, she certainly didn't deserve to be sent off to play in the US. "You can go to Germany, and I'll go play in the states. I'll fit in there better than you. Maybe I could even pick up quodpot."

WHO: Kendall Broadmoor and Thomas McCormack
WHAT: Blah
WHERE: Thomas' pitch
WHEN: Last week or so?
STATUS: Finishing in comments

( Did you happen to bring down any whiskey with you? )

WHO: Thomas McCormack and Billie Trimble
WHAT: Baby McCormack isn't feeling too well
WHERE: His house, then St. Mungo's
WHEN: LATE tonight/early tomorrow morning

( She's burning up. )

"Damn..."

Billie let out a huff as she dropped back down onto her heels, placing her hands on her hips as she stared up at the top shelf of her locker. She didn't have her wand on her, and she knew there was something towards the back of the shelf that she just couldn't reach. She was tall, but not tall enough to grab the last of her belongings.

This was what she got for waiting so long to get the rest of her things from Appleby's stadium. She had been trying to get there on a day where she knew none of management would be around, since she really didn't feel like facing them after they had said such terrible things to her a few months ago. She didn't play for their team anymore, so she could only imagine the things that could spill from their lips when it came to a player from an opposing team. It was still strange, to think that she was no longer an Arrow. She no longer had the right to wear the pale shade of blue she had been playing in for the last few years. Instead, she would be donned in a darker shade with gold accents, and would be flying alongside players like Caden Flint, Drystan Fawcett, and Matt Summerby. She respected all of these players, and was glad to have a friend in Matt, making her transition a bit easier. Still, she was going to be playing for Puddlemere United, which meant she had a lot to prove, and-

She ran her hands through her hair as she thought about all the new changes that were happening in her life, and was quickly reminded that her hair was one of them when her fingers ran out of something to comb through. She had just gotten it all lopped off about an hour before arriving at the stadium to get the rest of her things. She was still deciding whether or not it was too short, but it was too late to go back now. That seemed to be Billie's mantra about life in general - it's too late to go back now. She wanted that to change. She wanted so much to change, and while her appearance wasn't going to change anything, she thought that it would be a nice addition to the fresh start she wanted to make in Puddlemere.

Climbing up onto the bench, Billie carefully leaned forward, balancing precariously as she reached to try and wrap her fingers around the tiny, stuffed bird that had somehow gotten pushed to the back of her locker.

"Got you, y'little bastard," she said victoriously, though it took her a few moments to realize that the position she had gotten herself into was going to be a tricky one to get out of. The front of her right sneaker was just barely on the bench behind her, while she had used her left foot to get leverage from the locker next to hers, which belonged to Andrea. She groaned, wondering how the hell she was going to get out of this mess without breaking something. It would be her luck, getting injured before the season had even started. She wobbled for a moment, and then froze like a cat when she heard someone approaching. She turned her neck awkwardly, and when she saw who it was she let out a breath of relief that it wasn't management...and then she remembered that she was stuck, and blew some hair out of her face, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"A little help, please?"

ooc: If your character received this valentine, post your thread here!

When Billie had woken up that morning to an owl tapping at her window, she had expected to see another letter from the ominous Tempest . Instead, as she lazily unrolled the parchment, she saw the familiar scrawl of the secretary to the owner of the Arrows. The man she worked for was requesting to see her within the hour, which meant Billie only had about 20 minutes to clean herself up and make it there on time. This wouldn’t have been a problem if the Quidditch star wasn’t recovering from a long night at the bar, though these days it was hard to catch her on a day where she wasn’t hung over.

She damn near tripped over the lab in her living room as she ran into the bathroom to hop in the shower, making sure the water was cold enough to wake her up. She threw on some clothes, and swiped some concealer beneath her eyes to try and hide the dark circles there, a brush stroke of mascara added to her lashes just so she didn’t look like a complete train wreck when she got to the Appleby stadium. Her hair was worn in a tight bun above her head since it was still soaking wet from her shower, and she had thrown on a pair of jeans with one of her nicer sweaters that hung off one of her shoulders.

She worried about her appearance as she stared at herself in the mirror, trying not to think too much about why the owner of the team she played for was asking to meet with her. She wondered if any of her other teammates had received a similar owl. Maybe they were trying to see if any of the Arrows had written back to the Tempest. If that were the case, the meeting would be short and sweet, since Billie didn’t even know anything to tell the anonymous source. She would just tell them that she hadn’t said anything, and she didn’t know anything, and then she would be able to go back home and crawl back into bed. It would be that simple.

Apparating to the stadium, Billie felt the frigid chill of January as she made her way to the management offices. She adjusted herself again, took in a breath and then knocked on the door. The kind-faced secretary opened the door, greeting the chaser with what looked like a nervous smile before allowing her to cross the threshold. Her brows furrowed together a bit, but she stepped through the door, caught completely off guard when she saw the entire management team sitting inside. Billie blinked her eyes, looking between all the men who were waiting for her. One of them gruffly asked her to take a seat, but she hesitated for a moment before she moved towards the vacant chair. She unzipped her jacket, shrugging it off before she took a seat, folding it on her lap. No one said anything for a while, so Billie quietly cleared her throat.

“With all due respect, is anyone going to tell me why I’m here?”

ooc: We're doing things a little differently this year! New Years threads will all be posted under this one thread, branching off to whatever your characters wish! There's the Champion Catapults New Year's Gala (GO 'PULTS!) in Caerphilly, Hogsmeade is having fireworks and ice skating, Diagon Alley's got parties going on, and whatever else you can think of! After starting the game in the summer of 1976, we're heading into 1986, isn't that crazy?!

Kendall was bad at gift giving. Notoriously bad, he could count on his fingers the number of times he had given gifts that he was actually proud of and he was certain both Thomas and Rose had a box of his gifts hidden somewhere. Or perhaps they just threw them out. Either way, he had long since given up on actual attempts of buying gift and generally always just gave them certificates for cooked meals of their choosing. Not that it really counted as he was always cooking for them anyways.

It was the reason that Kendall begged Thomas to come out shopping with him. His gift for Anya needed to be just right. It needed to show how invested he was in the relationship, without going overboard, but he couldn't figure it. And all the last minute shoppers just stressed him out, because he had been trying to think of something decent for a month.

"I introduced Anya to my dad." Kendall dropped suddenly, when he felt Thomas was not understanding the extent of his near melt down. He himself felt distracted by all the cute things in the shop window's that could be bought for his goddaughter, so it wasn't like he could blame him, but there was an important task at hand. "As my girlfriend."

Glenda hadn't a wisp of worry all day, and was it funny to think that one of the most relaxing days she'd experienced in her recent years was her own wedding day. They were blessed, she and Vinny, with friends and family that could take time out of their busy schedules to drop by the house for a lax celebration in the fields behind their house. She hadn't wanted to make a huge fuss out of anything, opting for simple refillable plates and a relaxed atmosphere, and whether guests decided to stay eight minutes or eight hours she was more than thrilled to welcome an old or familiar face. She just, to put it simply, wanted to remember today as enjoyable and happy. And she hoped that everyone else would feel that way too. When whispers of a of pick-up quidditch game began to run through the field, Glenda had encouraged Vinny and Tristan to go along. After all, with this many professional quidditch players popping in and out all day, it would've practically been sacrilege to not partake. Their departure, more importantly, gave Gleny a bit of necessary alone time, letting her mind, peacefully, wander to Gideon... The shriek of happy child brought Glenda back to the present, and it was with surprise that she realized the sun had moved significantly in the sky and her two boys were returning to her with glints in their eyes and pride in their smiles. "Hello, sir," Glenda greeted her six-year-old son with open arms. Instead of crashing into her, he tumbled to the ground arms wide and began to babble about how he was destined to be the next great quidditch star so he would really appreciate something a bit better than a training broom. Her eyebrows rose, and withholding a laugh, she pressed her lips together as she looked at Vinny from her perched seat on the ground. "What do you think about that Vinny?" she asked aloud, most amused.

OOC LITERALLY everyone is invited/all guests are welcome. talking six degrees of Kevin Bacon here

Arista Sykes,


I have a second invitation to an opening of a quidditch museum that I think you'd like to attend.

Catriona is not being honored in the slightest.


- Thomas McCormack