Welcome to Potter’s Army

Potter’s Army is a roleplaying site that's been up and running since 2007. We pride ourselves on fostering a welcoming and helpful community where all levels of writers are accepted.

In this alternate universe, Lord Voldemort is dead, but so is Harry Potter. Factions continue to fight, Hogwarts educates the next generation of witches and wizards, and the Ministry of Magic does its best to hold everything together.

It is 2031 in the Wizarding World

Help us get new members by voting below

Honeydukes Topsites Top 50 RPGs Top RPG Sites
Word Counter

words: 0

View previous topicGo downView next topic
Gryffindor Graduate
Gryffindor Graduate
Maddie McKillon
36 : Alumnus
NoneGryffindor HOH

View user profile


on Tue Jul 12, 2016 12:17 am



NICKNAMES/ALIAS:  Known almost exclusively as “Maddie” to friends and acquaintances
Also known as:
“Maddie Mckay”-popularized during her high school years
“Maddie Jericho”- her married name, still used by those unaware of the consequent separation
“Mad”,“Mads”- by friends, family, and those who (rightly or wrongly) presume familiarity
“Madison” (inexplicably)- she can only assume it is a mistaken and rather annoying attempt to address her more formally than her specified preference of “just Maddie” (similarly, “Maggie”)

AGE: 35

ALLEGIANCE: Neutral (order sympathiser, if anything)

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Former Gryffindor

WAND: Willow, Unicorn tail hair, 12 inches, slightly springy

PLAY BY: Lena Headey


Having never paid much undue attention to her own physical appearance over the years, sharing her father's averseness to vanity and all its cousins, Maddie has been relatively careless of any related implications, describing herself, if asked, as “average, I suppose”, certainly as no great beauty. In her younger years, she'd been pretty, with shallow cheekbones, a wide mouth, straight nose, and clear blue gaze. Age has certainly not been generous, but has shown kindness to her, displaying signs of the years only in laugh lines and small burgeoning crow's feet, fortunately imbuing her face with traces of smiles rather than sorrow. However, this is also in part due to her consistent efforts to maintain the friendly, cheerful demeanour so natural to her in her youth, and increasingly harder to capture with age. When alone or if allowed to wander off into the private world of her thoughts, her whole aura seems to transform; all of a sudden previously absent lines and worries appear most prominent, deep frown lines and slanted brows betraying a hidden unease. Those watching would say they'd just witnessed the shadow of a dark cloud falling across her, and they wouldn't be far from the truth.

As it is, Maddie remains a- some would say remarkably- handsome woman, taking care to look neat and presentable with a meticulous approach to personal hygiene. On most days she will wear a minimal amount of makeup, using only what is necessary to inject a refreshing dose of colour to her face and not much more, never straying far beyond the boundaries of smart-casual dressing. The years have taken a toll on her looks, but have aged without detracting from her appearance. Her hair has seen the most transformation: sporting shoulder length locks for most of her childhood, adolescence saw it cut into an ear-brushing bob; though grown out in later years, it has now returned to its earliest length and remains the same brown-auburn colour she entered high school with. Graced with a naturally trim figure, Maddie has never had to worry much on that behalf, though her clothes become decidedly loose during times of considerable worry or hardship. A smile is never hard to miss, with her lips falling into a wide grin, eyes crinkling, head rising, and during these instances her youth shines unmistakably through.




her family
magical creatures
academic research & debate
long walks
the smell of turpentine
big windows
big armchairs

threats to her children's happiness/ well being
animal cruelty
most magical traditions
willful ignorance
exam period
formal situations
personal conversations

see her children grow up and lead successful, happy lives
get her doctorate
get back to travelling and researching magical creatures
publish a book with her findings


Frederick Felix McKillon (pseudonym: Frederick F. Fellows); muggle; (deceased at 57)

Charlotte Adelaide McKillon nee Gerber; muggle; (deceased at 25)


Casper Frederick Jericho; son; 17 ; Ravenclaw
Kathryn Rowena Jericho; daughter; 14 ; Gryffindor
Charlie Felix Jericho; son; 11 ; Ravenclaw

Robin Jericho; ex-husband; pureblood; (deceased at 35)
Melanie Jericho; ex- sister-in law; pureblood; 26
Bertha Gallows; former housekeeper; squib; 82


SOCIAL STATUS: Upper-middle class



It is a testament to the strange and wondrous machinations of the universe that Dr. Frederick Felix Fellows, renowned astronomer, purveyor of unusual objects and antiques, and archetypal eccentric genius had spent the majority of his considerable years trying to find magic in the far-off secrets of the galaxies, only to discover it right under his nose all along. Or, more accurately, by his side, in the result of a union that was arguably the most magical thing to have occurred in his life, the small girl he had spent ten years alternately hiding from and attempting to understand.

But, I digress.

When Dr. Frederick Fellows (legally Frederick McKillon Jr. II) proposed marriage to Miss Charlotte Gerber of the Gerbers of Lincolnshire, no one could have possibly foreseen that she would accept. At the time of engagement, the aforementioned bachelor boasted a relatively impressive 39 years under his belt, 16 years the senior of his young bride. That they loved each other was undeniable- Charlotte had apparently managed to see in the reclusive scholar a glint of something unapparent to most others- and their union was a happy one, but shortlived. The discovery of her first pregnancy accompanied the advent of Charlotte's 25th birthday, and though at the time this welcome news appeared to be mere confirmation of their easy marital bliss, tragedy struck the Mckillon household just as joy arrived in the form of a small, squealing pink baby. Not 2 hours after the birth, Charlotte passed away, leaving the father helpless and the child motherless with no first name, only the middle name of “Grace”, after her grandmother.

The first 10 years of the child's life were whiled away in the company of old books, an older housekeeper, and a selection of small animals and rodents that had made a home in the dusty nooks and crannies of their large Oxfordshire home. In his attempts to connect with the child, Frederick failed to realise that engaging a precocious five year old in intellectual discussions of the merits of scientific theorems and the deeper philosophical questions of life would not prove a fruitful endeavour, and it is the awkward, silence-filled encounters of the first 7 years of her life that drove Maddie's initial drive to seek out knowledge and devour it, in the hopes of impressing her (in her eyes, impossibly knowledgeable) father. Once she had begun the mission of working her way through the huge library and the substantial piles of academic works dotting the house and her father's desk, later attempts slowly became more successful, until she eventually achieved the ultimate promotion of sitting on her father's worktop on the 4th floor of the house in companionable silence, watching in rapt wonder as he observed the stars each night, reciting his findings for her to note down in a shaky child's hand.

Despite his many efforts, attentiveness had never been one of Frederick's more laudable traits, and so it was no surprise that when Maddie began exhibiting signs of abilities beyond the merely normal at the age of 9, it was a whole year before knowledge of these occurrences reached her father. After casually dropping mention of a number of unusual incidents that had taken place around his daughter into conversation on numerous occasions and receiving no response save an absent-minded “hmm”, in a spectacular loss of patience, Bertha had pulled her protesting ward into the study, snapped at Frederick to “just bloody watch for one second will you, sir”, and stood aside as the dusty tome she'd interrupted Maddie's reading of clattered up the four flights of stairs and landed at her feet. Frederick, more baffled than he'd been when a screaming, nameless pink bundle had been shoved into his arms with little ceremony a decade ago, found himself unable to do more than gape in astonishment. The old housekeeper, huffing, muttered some Latin under her breath and stuck her head into the violent green flames now roaring in the fireplace, at which point he promptly lost all consciousness.

When he came to, a tall sharp-nosed woman in tartan robes was standing infront of his desk in conversation with Bertha, who upon noticing his revived state briskly introduced herself as the headmistress of a school for magical children where they'd be delighted to have his daughter, and assured him that all would be fine from that point.

Most surprisingly, it was.


Much like her childhood, the new witch's adolescence was relatively unremarkable beyond the belated discovery of her magical powers. With Bertha's reassurance and her father's exhibition of something nearing excitement at his discovery of the-world-beyond-his-own at his own doorstep, Maddie adapted to all revelations hurled her way with surprising speed, focusing her determination on processing all the new information she could encounter about this world.

Having read “Hogwarts: A History” rapturously before her arrival (in the manner that most, if not all muggleborn students are wont to do in their pursuit of a basic understanding of their new world), the first year had an elementary grasp of the significance of the Sorting Hat and the prominent traits boasted by all the houses. Still, when the Sorting Hat expressed uncertainty over her sorting and enquired as to her preference, she informed him with all the self-assured resolution of an 11 year old that she did not yet consider herself enough of an authority on the matter to make an informed, intellectually sound decision. The Hat laughed.

“Just for that sentence, I ought to put you in Ravenclaw. But for sheer pluck, off you go to: GRYFFINDOR.”

Off she went, feeling unusually neutral about her new house, and increasingly as the initial glow wore off, the whole 'magic' thing in general. Her excitement was renewed, however, upon her arrival at the cryptically initialled “CoMC” class, where she realised there was more to the magical world than disappearing food and singing articles of clothing. As she and her professors soon discovered, the lure for her lay in the existence of creatures previously unheard of and unimagined; the simple fact that one could fly a horse, or talk to snakes, or get a burn from a crab astonished and astounded her beyond belief. In a natural chain of progression, she soon developed a talent for Herbology, then an attraction to Transfiguration and Potions- the former achieving this position on account of its ability to explain the mind-boggling existence of Animagi, while the latter she simply found good fun- as well as finding herself drawn, to a lesser extent, to the comfortable, familiar ground of Astronomy and Muggle Studies, which provided an opportunity to excel with minimal effort.

The previously friendless, isolated child found the most joy, however, in the endless opportunity for youthful company, the hundreds and hundreds of other children, her own age, that she'd wished for so wistfully during her childhood. By the end of her first year, a profound transformation had taken place in the young witch: no longer content to sit in dusty corners reading dusty books, she found in herself a friendly, boisterous, precocious side, one that much preferred to while away the summers catching and training magical and non-magical creatures alike, dragging her reclusive father and accommodating housekeeper to all corners of magical Britain, indulging in bursts of 'accidental' magic and writing pages and pages of garbled, overenthusiastic prose to newfound friends across the country.

She quickly gained a reputation within her house and wider year group for her cheerful, easy-going demeanour and noisy, excited nature, with her intelligence and intellectual capacity often overlooked by her peers in an unfortunate show of underestimation. Nevertheless, having achieved impressive results in her OWLs, she progressed into her final years with renewed confidence and academic rigour, determined to similarly excel in her NEWTs. Her father, having long since discovered the many benefits and discoveries to be found in the Astronomy textbooks and essays she brought home every summer, took on the role of her greatest academic champion and supporter, though quietly, from the sidelines. In a show of indebted gratitude, Maddie resisted all distractions that came knocking on her door throughout these years, including one confident American by the name of Robin Jericho, who not so much as walked but flew into her one morning as she was circulating the quidditch pitch with the usual group of Gryffindor girls. As is often the way of things, the tall, dark-haired boy apologised profusely before dismissing the incident entirely with a careless smile, meanwhile leaving within Maddie a barrage of confusing feelings and questions, only nurtured by the gushing admiration streaming from her posse. It is one of life's great ironies that we are often incapable of seeing what has been right infront of us until it has quite literally crashed into us, consequently leaving us rather stupidly wondering where on earth it came from. It happened this way with Maddie, and although nothing came of the incident in the two years immediately following, it would prove to be one of those occasions whose hidden significance there is no way of gauging without the illumination of later hindsight.

It was during her Sixth Year, right in the middle of that pre-exam-heat and revision scramble that Maddie's world suddenly lost the sparkle it'd gained 5 years ago. The news arrived by way of a rumpled barn owl, and the shaky words: “I'm sorry, but your father passed away this morning, Maddie” threatened to undo the culmination of all 5 and a half years' steady work. By her own words, the witch was a wreck. The shell she'd so willingly shed on her arrival at Hogwarts clamped decidedly shut once again, leaving her to wander the halls pale, silent, and- pardon the pun- shell-shocked. Her well-meaning, but awkward group of friends attempted to provide some form of consolation, but having never met her father, and sharing the collective blessing of leading hitherto charmed lives, all fell short of providing any meaningful comfort.

Respite came, ironically, in the form of a confident American by the name of Robin Jericho, who crashed into her, this time intentionally, in an empty hallway, and once alone and seated in an abandoned courtyard, proceeded to pour out the story of his own mother's death not 3 years previously. Beyond the initial enchantment she'd felt 2 years ago on that fortuitous quidditch pitch, she found in him a kindred spirit and the comfort others had attempted to provide and failed. This proved all the push needed for the life to return to her body and the smile to her face, and surprisingly enough for her, unsurprisingly enough for everyone else, the quidditch player and herself remained study partners for the rest of the term, finding solace and shared attributes in each other that only tightened the newly formed bond of friendship between them.

In the natural course of events, Seventh Year saw them find more than amiable companionship in each other, with a blossoming between them of something entirely new and strange for her, though not (she suspected) for him. Graduation saw her leave Hogwarts as she came, with a smile on her face and the added bonuses of stellar grades and a 1 month anniversary under her belt.


With the support of her professors and by virtue of her own hardworking merit, the National Academy of Magizoologism and Magical Naturalism expressed an interest in her not long into the summer, and the next year found her attending the prestigious institute that promised to provide a more refined outlet for her curiosity and an opportunity to hone her brilliance, with the promise of a shining career down the road.

As we all know, however, life rarely pans out in quite the manner we expect it to.

In another one of the great ironies of fate, after putting trust in it for the first time (“it was only one time!” echoed thousands before her), Maddie found in herself all the telling symptoms of gestation in humans. Or, as she told Robin a few weeks later, “I'm pregnant.”

In a fitting display of blind Gryffindor chivalry, Robin wasted no time in doing the honourable thing and proposing marriage. Not, he assured, due to any feelings of pressure or obligation- rather, it was what he wanted to do, and what would make both of them happy. He'd make both of them happy. Or, as she pointed out, all three of them. In any case, with her full consensus, they were married within the year, and Robin provided all the support necessary for her to return in time to finish the academic year once she'd given birth to Casper six months later. Two years later, when signs of a second pregnancy became apparent, their situation was not so accommodating, and with Robin having just started a long stint with a well-known quidditch team of impressive financial backing, it fell to Maddie to take the decision to drop out just before her final exams, a decision she has repeatedly told her children she made with “no regrets” (but much sorrow).

In a stroke of luck, however, (or sheer academic prowess), a sympathetic professor, having spotted the seeds of greatness and the potential for wasted brilliance in the hapless young mother, offered her the position of his aide when he embarked on a tour of Central Europe and East Asia the following year. Maddie, unable to ask of Robin to care for two young children alone, requested to take them along with her, the professor proved surprisingly accommodating of the issue, and the ensuing year passed relatively without incident, with the budding magizoologist learning with some of the most prestigious naturalists of the wizarding world and developing her first particular interest in the study of the basilisk and the chimaera. Until, of course, she fell pregnant again.

At this point, it became apparent to Maddie that a more accommodating path was needed, and cutting short her research, she returned to England to give birth to Charlie. Of the years following little is remembered: the many belated “firsts” of her children, a muddle of housework, childcare, attempting to keep up her academic journey alongside everything, and above all, a startling absence of Robin. Having taken up freelance writing to bolster household finances, the final positive blip in the radar came with the publication of what would have been her doctorate: a paper on the dietary and predatory habits of the basilisk and the uses and effects of its venom. It did, as it happened, result in the NAMM rewarding her an honorary degree for “Excellence in the Field”, and The Practical Potioneer bestowing upon her their annual “Greatest Contribution” award.

And then the proverbial excrement hit the fan.

As Maddie worked steadily away during spare hours and late nights on the paper that began the making of her name in the world of magizoologism, Robin Jericho had begun a steep rise to fame in the international quidditch arena, finally securing a coveted position as part of the world-renowned Fitchburg Finches- also, coincidentally, the team of his home city. With increased prestige came increased troubles for the young couple, and Maddie soon found herself floundering in a position she resented- that of the embarrassingly clueless wife. Though her husband had accepted the position on the condition that he would remain based in England, flooing and apparating for practices and matches, Maddie soon lost her grip of the situation, becoming increasingly unaware of his plans or whereabouts, with no real clue as to his schedule, and only night upon night of waiting up in vain, or the occasional running into him in the landing as he rushed out again, calling over his shoulder about an urgent meetup, or a looming tournament.

When she started resorting to reading the paper and gossip rags to receive updates on his wellbeing, she knew something was wrong.

When she started hearing about numerous “exploits” and “altercations” she otherwise knew nothing of, she knew something needed to be done.

When he floo'd in to say he'd miss Charlie's birthday, don't wait up, and she later read a measly article about him on the lash with his team mates somewhere in North Carolina, she did it.

Maddie had never boasted an emotional prowess as substantial as her academic one, nor had she ever been one for unnecessary pomp and circumstance, but one cold spring morning of 2024, with Robin uncharacteristically home for the night, she'd sat down at the kitchen table with two coffees laid out before her and the cat on her lap for support. When her errant husband came down for breakfast, she outlined the situation for him, without mincing words, and laid down the next possible steps. The other half of the conversation, still half-asleep, yawned. Despite entering into the discussion with a sense of unusual calm and resignation, Maddie felt within her a surge of righteous fury, and told him, with no room for protest, that they needed some time apart. He laughed.

It was only that night, when she'd finally got an owl from one of his team mates telling her to “check up on her husband”, that she phoned him, soundly informed him not to bother coming home, set up wards around the house and changed the locks. The divorce took two years to finalise.

That time, not that she'd admit it, proved to be the darkest of Maddie's life. Initially, not much changed of the situation. She was still at home, looking after the kids- writing, sometimes- occasionally attending the odd academic meetup or lecture, and he was still abroad, living the quintessential quidditch player life, occasionally popping in to hurriedly kiss his offspring and “check up” on her, going as far as to take the children out on day trips when he found the time in his busy schedule. The second year saw a complete vanishing act on Robin's part. At the end of the year, divorce papers were sent to her soon-to-be-ex husband c/o his quidditch coach, who Maddie had only met once. They were returned, filled and signed, within a week. Her feelings of self-assurance and security took marginally longer to return. In the meantime, she found herself herself turning to a variety of emotion-numbing substances, eventually beginning to develop a marginal alcohol dependence.

She'd thought herself adept at disguising her weakness, casting glamour charms on her room and her appearance, continuing with life as usual, to all intents and purposes appearing totally normal, going so far as to secure a leading position in the Beast Division at the Ministry, but- and it is ironic that- the one person who was living furthest away from her was the only one who was not so easily fooled. Initially resistant when her ex-husband reached out again, Maddie soon realised that the possibility of reconciliation might not be such a bad thing- particularly for her main concern, the children. When he expressed his own sorrow and regret she began to consider it- this time, however, on her terms. A steady stream of uneasy contact was upheld between the two until that fateful afternoon of May 2027, when, during a particularly fiery argument over the phone, Maddie heard the squeal of brakes and a deafening crash, then, where her ex-husband's voice should have been, silence.

Robin was declared dead within the hour.

As tends to happen in life, she only discovered just how much she had to say to her ex-husband after his death, but she understood more than anyone that no amount of wishing could bring someone back to say “I'm sorry” or “I miss you”. Unsurprisingly, she became more determined to guard well what did remain to her, and it was at this point, with death taking on his usual role as the harbringer of rude awakenings, that Maddie decided to take back the reins of her life, diverting all her focus to her children and attempting to put the past totally behind her. She sobered out, applied for a teaching position at Hogwarts, where Casper and Kathryn were already attending and Charlie would join next autumn, packed their things and moved them temporarily out of the house that held so many memories and into a small cottage by the school grounds. When the first slot in the professor roster opened up at Christmas, she seized it and embarked on her new role with much gusto, determined to prove to herself that all had happened for the best, and so far succeeding.



RP EXPERIENCE: considerable?

HOW YOU FOUND US: wandered back


Last edited by Maddie McKillon on Thu Aug 11, 2016 1:07 am; edited 5 times in total
Slytherin Graduate
Slytherin Graduate
Selwyn Thorfinn
23 : Alumnus
NoneDeputy Headmaster
HalfbloodPart Veela

View user profilehttps://www.etsy.com/au/shop/NovelLane

Re: MCKILLON, Maddie

on Tue Jul 12, 2016 3:29 am
Okay, so.

Siblings means brothers and sisters - you're actually talking about her children there.

I'd also really love you to remove her parents' current ages and just write their ages when they died, for ease of understanding.

I'm not entirely sure what to make of her early years.  Your character was born in 1992, most people didn't have housekeepers then.  Even if they did, it would be rare for a witch to work as a housekeeper for a muggle.  Perhaps she was a neighbour or a babysitter?

And McGonnagall has never been headmistress of Hogwarts in the Potter's Army timeline.

Unless I'm missing something, it's also really unlikely that Maddie would be able to see thestrals just from her mother's death.  You have to actually process the death to see them; that's why Harry doesn't see them immediately.  And a newborn's brain isn't developed enough to process that.

I'm also finding her self awareness a little hard to believe.  Not saying you HAVE to change it, but most eleven year olds, especially intelligent eleven year olds, think they know everything. Basically the more intelligent you are the less likely you are to question yourself and people who are young are even more prone to it.

I also find it hard to believe that Maddie could take her kids along to study such dangerous creatures as basilisks and chimeras (quite leaving aside that basilisks are man-made monsters).  In real life one can make significant discoveries in biology just from studying things like bugs, and nobody thinks any less of you if that happens to be your area.  Maddie needn't be studying particularly dangerous creatures to make significant strides in her field.  But if you do want her to study dangerous creatures she should leave the children at home unless she wants certain characters to believe she's an unfit mother.
Gryffindor Graduate
Gryffindor Graduate
Maddie McKillon
36 : Alumnus
NoneGryffindor HOH

View user profile

Re: MCKILLON, Maddie

on Tue Jul 12, 2016 4:29 am
Ok, I'll try to work through my thoughts here.

Yes, you're completely right, children, I'll fix that.

Her father was particularly eccentric and reasonably well-off, as I hoped to get across in the history, so I imagined the housekeeper had worked for the family for a long while and he never really questioned her being there. I imagine she was one of those squibs who lived life as a muggle, and not having much by way of a formal education probably found domestic work at some point in the early '60s with the family and eventually just never left (nanny?).

I had no clue that was something PA disregarded, can amend that to a description of whoever was in charge at the time Smile

Yep, something I was unsure of myself. Will remove!

I'm not sure what you're addressing here, but I'm assuming it's about her sorting? My understanding is that the less intelligent you are, the more certain you are of that intelligence. However, I saw it as coming from a combination of intelligence but more greatly insecurity, as she'd always been seeking her father's approval. So she would have replied with what she'd have said had he been quizzing her, the answer that would have most pleased him, with all the pompous confidence she'd seen in him and tried to emulate. If that makes sense? Certainly 'the self-assured resolution of an 11 year old' was intended to be entirely ironic, because she was more attempting to act like a middle-aged academic than actually outsmarting the hat and it would have picked up on this and her knowledge-not-quite-for-knowledge's-sake approach, at least at that point.

Yes, I agree that it wasn't exactly a wise decision. I think it came across more strongly in the longer personality section of the first app, but Maddie has always faced a significant conflict between her role as a mother and her desire for adventure, something she's never admitted or even realised herself. She was also quite young at the time, fresh out of university, and in some ways is a lot more immature than she'd like to believe. I didn't see the trip's purpose as studying those creatures exclusively; at some point during her research/expeditions she came across them and developed an interest, in the chimaera more so than the basilisk, though the very nature of the basilisk being easier to breed (I'd assume, given it's pretty much a chicken egg) would (I'm guessing) have made it more widely available for research, so that's what she wrote her paper on in the next few years once she was back home. In the meantime, her research was most probably confined to slightly more innocuous creatures, likely fire crabs or ashwinders, but I don't think the Gryffindor in her would have been able to resist the lure of something more exciting. As it is, her everyday work is pretty mundane as are the pets she keeps. I saw her as travelling with a team of experts, mostly looking at habitats and observing creatures from afar, definitely not taking the children with her on big expeditions, rather leaving them at the camp with house-elves. It was more the matter of her husband being very busy and not very present due to his job, and Maddie in her relative inexperience probably saw keeping her children close as more of a responsible maternal thing to do than leaving them behind (helicopter mum, yes). I can't say I personally agree, but that would have been her thought process. I'll take any judgement, will definitely make things interesting and make for some great conflict!

I hope that helps to clarify things! if you'd like me to put these explanations into her history somehow, I'll find a way to do that.
Slytherin Graduate
Slytherin Graduate
Selwyn Thorfinn
23 : Alumnus
NoneDeputy Headmaster
HalfbloodPart Veela

View user profilehttps://www.etsy.com/au/shop/NovelLane

Re: MCKILLON, Maddie

on Tue Jul 12, 2016 10:32 am
Ah, I think some of that irony wasn't getting across.  We don't often have that in apps. 

Those clarifications are great, and certainly make things more plausible.  You can put them in the main app if you like, or just leave them down here in your reply.  It's totally up to you. 

I'll get her sorted out then.
Sponsored content

Re: MCKILLON, Maddie

View previous topicBack to topView next topic
Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum