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Walking the halls of the witch bookstore was unusual for Robyn. She had been with so many things to do and practice over the days that she had not even noticed that the year had changed and she had not even had to lie to her family about Christmas. Her fingers fingered the covers of several Quidditch books, picking out the most ordinary and so simple a five-year-old could read. She opened the book on a random page, smiling dumbly at the simple image it contained when she noticed someone watching her. “Did not you know it’s extremely unkind to face people?” She replied, eyeing the other with raised eyebrows.

beaumontjemma

“Well that won’t do at all, I’m only supposed to be unkind when you tell me to.” Jemma smiled, shifting the novel she’d been contemplating getting that would inevitably wind up decorating her bookshelf for all time to the other arm. “Enjoying your afternoon off, oh captain my captain? I don’t actually remember the last time I saw you doing something for fun, it’s a little scary.”

#C: Robyn

selenaxnewf

Getting an older wizard to tear themselves away from conversation was nigh impossible, but Selena had somehow managed to convince a particularly verbose party-goer that their spouse was flagging them down. Whatever they had been blathering on about was forgotten to Selena – - who, admittedly, retreated to the far corners of her mind as soon as the word ‘entitled’ made an appearance in the conversation - – but the dispersing crowd all looked war-torn and haggard. Only one other person stood at ground zero by the end of the fiasco, so the owner of Puddlemere United turned to them just as she flagged down an unfortunate waiter. “Do you need another drink as much as I do? I feel like I just lost seven years of my life.”

beaumontjemma

Taming her eyebrows back down from where they’d crept around her hairline, Jemma nodded, any potential snark or awkwardness warded off by the fact that she did, in fact, need a drink after what she was almost positive was a long winded rant about.. poor people? Young people? Possibly both? “I don’t know if it’ll help, but it can’t hurt. Good party, by the way.”

#C: Selena

#qd:christmas #qd:task

For the muse

1. What is your most treasured possession?

First real broom, a very nice little cleansweep 12. It flies like an ocean liner after all the shit I put it through, but it holds pride of place on my mantle.

2. What are your biggest flaws?

Temper? Short attention span about anything other than quidditch? Probably something in the middle of those.

3. If you could start your life over, would you?

I’d redo a few things, but overall I’d rather take the bad I’ve had than risk not getting the good by doing things differently.

#qd:task #qd:christmas

obviouslyorion‌:

“Morale?” He could’ve scoffed if he wasn’t talking to his only favorite niece. With a bit of self-restraint, Orion kept his skepticism to an arched brow while he strummed his fingers against his jaw, “Morale for you or for the fans?”

As much as he loved Jemma, Orion still felt a knee-jerk reaction to agree with everything she had said. Even if he didn’t particularly believe she could’ve prevented the outcome of the match, there was a mean streak in him that nearly had him spitting out the kind of vitriol that he’d offer someone who worked directly beneath him. It was easy to curb – - easy when he was dealing with Jemma, at least - – but he didn’t quite manage to keep the skepticism from his face. “It’s a team sport,” he waved her idea off. “No way you could pull the whole team through. Someone dropped the quaffle on this one.”

A grin split his lips even before he went for a sip of his drink, but Orion followed through and ruminated on whatever fun he was going to have that day. “Just work. I took the day yesterday for the game.” Fat lot of good that did. “Might work through the next one, though. I’m starting to get the feeling that I’m a bad luck charm.” He, on the other hand, had quite a bit of luck at the Crimson Grimoire, though that wasn’t a detail he needed to divulge to his niece. “I ran into your friend… Maggie. Still not a fan of her nicknames. If she calls me …” He wouldn’t dignify the name ‘Oreo’ with an actual verbal acknowledgement, but he did grimace and hope Jemma would understand, “That… then what does she call you? Or Edison?”

Snorting against her cup despite her attempts to play it cool, Jemma shrugged noncommittally, “My morale is the fan’s morale. Can’t keep them optimistic if I’m sulking all over the place. I find it helps to hash these sorts of things out with a neutral third party, clear my mind without anyone else’s baggage.”

It was sometimes hard to tell whether Orion was being sarcastic or not. Maybe not quite sarcastic, but like he knew something you didn’t, and was humoring you until he could figure out the most cutting way to tell you. Choosing to believe his sincerity was the best option, regardless, as it always was with the inherently cocky. “Thanks, I keep telling myself that, but it’s always easier to believe ‘you didn’t suck and it isn’t your fault’ from other people.”

“Goodness knows I understand experimenting with that, I went a whole season with just newspaper coverage when I was at school because every game I listened to on the radio was a loss.” Jemma paused, shuddering for dramatic effect, “It was possibly the worst year of my life. As for Maggie, it’s mostly just bad luck you have a name ripe for silly nicknames. Dad’s usually just Eddie, and I don’t even know what she calls me anymore, I just respond. I feel like she called me Jam one time, but I may have just been preoccupied with breakfast.”

#C: Orion

obviouslyorion‌:

Orion Beaumont could recognize a walk of shame when he saw one; hell, he was making a trek of his own when he saw his niece duck into a nearby coffee shop. The collar of his suit was still askew when he strolled into an establishment he wouldn’t have set foot in mere moments before, but he made quick work of the mistake and acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be fixing oneself up while queuing. The whole place reeked of muggle sensibilities, but he ordered his breakfast tea and hoped to Merlin that the art of steeping tea leaves had somehow transcended across cultures.

Paper cup in hand, Orion strode directly to the seat in front of Jemma and plopped himself down without so much as asking if she was meant to be meeting someone. “Good morning, sunshine.” His cup was left to steam, though he didn’t quite remove his hand from the cardboard collar even after he had placed the drink on the table. “Long night?” The grin on his face said he was anticipating a yes, though his next words were far more somber, “Tough break last night, kiddo. You did great out there, though.”

There were very few occasions in which Jemma would prefer a chance run in with Orion over one with her father, in fact off the top of her head she could only think of two or three. Bless him, he’d managed to appear in front of her in just such a situation. Bemused, Jemma joined him at the table, propping her hand on her chin and beaming innocently, “Well, you know how important it is to maintain morale, sitting at home moping wouldn’t help anything.”

That, of course, was exactly what she was on her way to do, but that was beside the point.

“I could’ve done better. Like, I know it’s stupid to blame myself, but I’m still going to, I think. Could’ve stopped some of those hits if I’d been more on my game.” Her coffee was too hot, and not nearly as sweet as she’d usually take it, but she chugged more than was advisable anyway to shut herself up. “Just gonna have to train harder for a bit, I guess. Anyway. You up to anything fun?”

#C: Orion

There were plenty of reasons to appreciate flat shoes: the lack of pain, the ease of movement when walking or dancing, and the way they looked so much less out of place when returning home in the cold light of dawn.

Tugging her scarf tighter around her neck, Jemma ducked out of the wind into the coffee shop nearest her apartment, reveling in the sudden warmth as she stepped through the queue and took the drink that presented itself to her. Her plans to crawl into bed and sulk, however, were foiled neatly by the familiar figure who’d just entered. Jemma tried to smile, probably mostly grimaced, and held up her cup in acknowledgement, as she paused to see if they’d want to talk. For some reason. Damn manners.

#qd:starter

angel-elena-puddlemere-deactiva

Elena was upset, and as she went down the stairs to the hotel corridor, she kicked one of the iron parts that held the structure and controlled the pain. She kept walking, even if she felt a little pain, but it did not matter to her that she felt betrayed by her own games. She could feel so many antagonistic feelings, and in the end, she was mad at herself because of a man. Fuck! When she opened the door to the hall, she felt the tears wanna come down and she looked around for a distraction. Any of them.

beaumontjemma

It was silly, but there was something nice about running in the rain, even if she did wind up chilled to the bone and unable to even do anything to warm up when surrounded by muggles. Shucking out of her dripping sweatshirt, Jemma fumbled for the key to her room when she heard the soft whoosh of a door opening, followed by the very obvious noises of someone trying not to cry. Borth trying not to cry, apparently. And really, she’d feel like shit if she just pretended not to notice when she had already made eye contact. “You okay? I can find your team medic, if you need me to. If you’re hurt, I mean.”

#C: Elena

magnolia-barnes‌:

“You don’t have to keep them or anything, just play around with them like a cat would a mouse,” she pointed out, turning to the mirror once more before tugging the dress a bit lower, exposing more cleavage. “Besides, I’m not trying to bang him. I mean, I would, don’t get me wrong… I just happen to enjoy staring at his face. He’s got a great face, yeah?”

“Ye uh ey away eh-” She mumbled, and shook her head, “Yes but they always get attached. Because they’re stupid. More importantly, I feel like you would get better boy results if you went out with that goal in mind, rather than following a guy who’s way too old for us and is also going to think you’re trying to get a scoop on him or expose his weird foot fetish or something.”

#Jemma stop being a brat #be nice to your friend #C: Magnolia

magnolia-barnes‌:

“He’s not the enemy if I’m not playing, Jem. Besides, isn’t it my job, as a professional reporter for Quidditch Daily to know things about players and managers and all that? The only one I’m stalking is you, silly!” Pursing her lips again, Magnolia pointed to the purple. “Definitely purple. Those Irishmen own’t be able to keep their paws off you.”

“What happened to solidarity? You’re supposed to be on my side!” Jemma held her fake outrage for a moment, and snorted as she dropped the tube of red back in her bag. “Trying to bang the team manager is not covered under the journalist job description, Mags. And I’m not trying to find any Irishmen, or any other kind of men. The lipstick is just to make them realize what they’re missing.”

#ignore the dude lol #C: Magnolia

Half an hour, and then I can go to lunch. Half an hour and the world’s longest list of stupid questions.

Jemma meditated on that fact, schooling her fidgeting hands into her lap and sitting as straight as she possibly could without aggravating muscles she’d beaten into submission that morning. This was just an interview. Just a bunch of canned sound bites, and charming smiles, and PR work for the team, all of which she could do in her sleep. She’d even put on foundation in the middle of the day for it, wouldn’t Lorelai be proud?

#qd:task

magnolia-barnes‌:

Pursing her lips, Maggie tapped her chin thoughtfully. “There are sixteen pubs in walking distance from this hotel, and Oliver Wood always spends his dinners alone when he’s not doing team stuff. The likelihood of us casually bumping in to him is fairly small, but we’re much better at barhopping than he is, so we’re sure to catch up to him at some point, right?”

Snorting, Jemma slumped back into her seat, summoning her makeup bag to hover next to her as she touched up her face. “I shoulda guessed you were hoping to fraternize with the enemy. How do you even know what his dining habits are? That’s rapidly approaching stalker, Mags.” She held up two tubes of lipstick and half turned to face the room, “Purple or red?”

#C: Magnolia

magnolia-barnes

@beaumontjemma

Magnolia eyed herself in the mirror, turning around once and then facing it again. “What do you think? Does this outfit say ‘single and ready to mingle’ or ‘desperately pining for you to notice me’?”

beaumontjemma

“That depends, doesn’t it?” Jemma hauled herself to a sitting position in her overstuffed chair (as opposed to laying splayed across the arms, not at all conducive to fashion opinions) and shrugged, “Are you trying to impress someone specific, or just put it out there in the universe that you’re dtf? Either way, higher heels.”

#C: Magnolia #should I be downloading gifs onto my work computer? no #Am I gonna anyway? yes #try and stop me mfs

edisonbeaumont

“No, of course. - I’ll wait.“ Edison sighed as the skeleton serving as bartender rushed around a corner to refill the quickly depleting liquor stock. Or so it seemed quick to Edison who was still woefully sober. “He’ll be right back.” Edison assured the person who had just moseyed up to the vacated bar. “Actually,” Edison started, moving so he could step around the other side of the bar. “What’d you want to get? Except the ah, whiskey - he’s just gone to get that.”

beaumontjemma

“Will my citizenship get revoked if I admit that it just tastes like death to me? Whiskey, I mean. Sweet, angry death.” Jemma propped her chin on her fist, grimacing at the mere memory of her first stolen drinks. “I didn’t think hosting the party meant you had to play bartender, but you can pass me that bottle of gin if you feel so inclined.”

#C: Edison

mgr-oliver-wood‌:

Oliver tilted his head to one side, eyeing the outfit. “It’s not your color,” he mumbled, shaking his head before heading over to grab something he’d just seen another girl discard. “This, this is your color. Trust me, you wear this and you’ll be in her good graces for a year. Or as close as you can get to it.” He flashed a quick wink at Jemma before pushing the garment into her hands.

Glaring mildly at her accidentally acquired fashion consultant (and making a mental note not to ask questions to the room without checking again), Jemma shook out the dress he’d shoved at her. “Yes, I’ve always thought puce looked grand on me. Universally flattering color, that. Do you lurk around changing rooms often, Wood, or were you just extra bored today?”

#C: Oliver

selenaxnewf‌:

“It does look good on you,” Selena agreed hastily, unwilling to let go of the opportunity presented before her. “You’ve got a great figure, so you aren’t going to be walking out of here looking like a pumpkin, at least.” Wast that offensive? Selena didn’t have time to consider the implications of her words. She only eyed Jemma and took note of her thoughts on the color purple. “Something with an orange accent might be nice.” If her motivations were to piss her mother off, however…

Jemma couldn’t have known that she’d transported Selena back to a bygone era; one in which she’d attended parties and stolen bottles of champagne and dragged Jemma’s father around the Sinclair estate to escape owl-related functions. Her desire to rebel had led to a few embarrassing displays, so Selena appreciated Jemma’s headstrong approach to the entire party. If she’d been more in touch with her emotions, the owner of Puddlemere might’ve recognized the feeling as endearment or sympathy. As it was, however, she chalked it up to a desire to vicariously relive her youth.

“I’m sure there’s a way to dress sneakers up…” None were coming to her mind, though, and she wasn’t eager to give it a shot. “Let’s go with orange. Might as well tack a Chudley pin somewhere on there. You could borrow your father’s.” She backed away as quickly as she’d directed Jemma to the mirror, “Did you have anything else picked out, or was this it?”

It was funny, almost, how Selena could remind her so much of her mother while being completely unlike her in every way possible. That was probably more of an opinion than she should have, when they’d barely ever spoken and mostly only about clothes and her father.

Actually, that wasn’t unlike Lorelai at all. There may be more to that idea. Worth considering, at least.

“Actually now you mention it, a pumpkin costume might be just the thing. Really get into the spirit of the season.” Lifting the skirt out around her in a joking imitation of an oversized gourd, Jemma snickered. “This is the only thing I’ve kind of liked that I’ve tried on, so I was going to go with this. And I have some flats at home that work with everything. I’m almost offended you think I’d have to borrow someone else’s Chudley stuff, though, as though I don’t have plenty of my own.”

#C: Selena

Haunted House, Jack-o’-lantern?

Haunted House: If you could be roommates with anyone of your choice, who would you pick?

Probably any of the girls from the team. We’ve all spent enough time together to know we get along, a little more wouldn’t kill anyone.

Jack-o’-lantern: Do you have any scars? If so, how many?

Not as many as I should have, apparently wandering around with a crooked nose and looking like you fell through the whomping willow isn’t “ladylike”. Got a nice one down my shin where I bit it diving for a bludger though.

#jemma does ask memes #Anonymous

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