Application for Mason, from 'Dead Like Me'

[bad-trepanation.livejournal.com]

The sorting room was... surprisingly still. Was it empty? All there was in the room was...

Oh, wait, what was that lump in that chair?

There was most definitely a man sprawled across the desk, face smushed into the pile of pages on the table and looking... a bit like a hobo, really. There were rather loud snores coming from beneath the hood tugged up over the guy's head, and the Dictaquill had sprung into action, scrawling out several 'Z's across the parchment. It had filled up two and a half backs of various applications before it finally came to a pause, instead taking it upon itself to jab furiously at the sleeping form's arm.

"Fucking what the bloody 'ell!"

Mason snapped upright, nearly knocking his chair over backwards in his rather overzealous backwards flail. Woops. With a hard sweep of the hood off his head, he mumbled something a little loud, that sounded vaguely like, 'I'm awake, I swear' before he started slapping at the papers on the table in a last-ditch effort to look like he was actually doing something.




1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?

What the hell kind of paperwork was this? Mason paused to furrow his eyebrows at the page, wrinkling his nose and glancing around briefly, as if to see if certain other reapers were ready to pop out of nowhere to laugh. Was this for real? "Fuck, I don't know," he mumbled under his breath in a slightly slurred British accent, trying to grab at the quill as it started hopping away from him towards a fresh page, making a strange sort of raspberry-esque sound in the wake of its escape. Prick. "That shit they put on pizza. Mozzarella."


2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?

"Both," Mason added without a beat, glaring at the quill as it scribbled away his answers just out of arm's reach. "I've got nothing for the dinosaur and his songs actually rather make me want to pluck my ears off and eat them for breakfast." Touche, quill. Long as he didn't have to do any work.

He leaned back in the chair and kicked up his feet onto the table. "And, I mean, Carrottop, you'd want to off for the hair alone. 'S terrible." Not that he was one to talk, with hair so hopeless rumpled that it looked like he'd just clambered out of bed. He could at least toy with the possibilities of this. God, how fantastic would it be to reap Carrottop? And to know you've saved the world from that kind of horror?


3. What time is it where you are?

Er. He had... no clock on him. His watch had died last week. "It is..." He pursed his lips, glancing idly around the room, at the windows. Afternoon. "Three?" Maybe?


4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.

Oh, now that was just uncalled for. "Now, I do not sexually harass anyone," he replied earnestly, slinging an arm across the back of his chair. No, really. He didn't. Because he usually ended up getting slapped if he even looked at a girl funny, never mind his absolutely shit pick-up lines. "That's just wrong, it really is. So many levels. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

...But while they were on the topic? "You know, I wouldn't say 'no' to that Hestia Jones." What? He had a thing for the nice girls. "And, I mean, Lily Potter? Nymphadora Tonks? I see much potential in that group. I really do." Not too many ladies in the group, mind, but, hey, Mason was an equal opportunity sort of person.


5. If you are pushing to be in:

A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.

Bartend? Mason? He could barely manage shell games. "I'm not much for sitting behind the bar," he admitted honestly, patting his coat pocket with the faithful little flask of brandy inside. Nor was he an alcoholic, no, that was just cruel to suggest. What? "On a stool in front of it? Now THERE'S a place to be."


B. Gryffindor – Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.

Wait, George? Toilet Seat Girl George? And who was Fred? Mason'd no idea, but if George was getting tangled up in shit like this... Hey, love triangles. Why not?

It did still pose an interesting question. Mason sat up straight, letting his chair fall to all four legs with a solid 'thud' in the midst of the room. "Who the fuck is Harry?" he asked in a mutter under his breath, eyebrow arched. Shit, he barely knew anybody else in the way of people outside of the first and middle initial, last name, basis.

"Whatever. If Harry's got two people fighting over him? Right on." Mason could barely get one. What was up with that? "George happens to be a rather angry young woman, if you're getting my drift, so. Run along with Fred while you still can. She'll eat your heart, I swear."


C. Ravenclaw – You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though I’m constantly disposing of it.

"Because your boss couldn't possibly upgrade technologically and he's still writing out records with a fucking pen from the who-the-fuck-knows-what decade?" Mason snarked, grinning a little and... oops? Was Rube here? It didn't matter. Wasn't the first time Mason had pulled the smart ass shit on the guy. It was fun! ...Being called a fuck-up, not so much, but torturing Rube? Very.


D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.

Say what? Mason was not useless! He could. ...He could, um.

...

"Salesman!" he suddenly yelped to the quill, pointing at the thing with a narrowed look to his eyes. "I can sell kitchen appliance shit like nobody's business, and you'd best write that down you fucking little demon quill."


6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe. Do not threaten us rather than offering a bribe. A threat indicates you either don't really want to be here, or don't have enough sense to answer the question properly. The hat will automatically squib you, regardless of other votes, if you do.

A bribe? ...Well, shit. That, he hadn't been expecting. He'd had a joint not long ago, but... Er, that was gone. Yes, long gone. He'd never had much to begin with, after all. He didn't have a job. He was absolute rubbish at conning. "I am an excellent man for advice. No, really. Ask me about frogs. About parrots! I know it." Er, what else could he do? "Spelling. I can spell."

Yeah, total fail. New strategy. "All right, I've got a bag of ecstasy tablets in my coat, yeah? But I'm only coughing up one a piece, I swear. I earned these." From fairly-earned quarters from that broken vending machine up on Thayer Street. ...

What! It was just begging to be stolen from!



"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. Mason
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. Mason
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. Mason
One day, marmalade will rule the world. Oh, bloody hell, I should hope not. That rubbish makes my toast taste like fried asshole.

Comments

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

"I dunno. George seems pretty laid back to me. The breasts are news, too! I mean, I'm flexible about these things, but it's kind of a shocker. Springer-worthy, even." She grinned. "Honestly, you think you know a guy."

[bad-trepanation.livejournal.com]

Huh? Mason paused, head tilted towards the newcomer with a confused sort of look in his eyes. "I'm thinking that somewhere, we've mixed up our Georges, because I'm fairly certain that the one I know is not in possession of any sort of man-bits." Or... she could be. You never know!

[waste-lock.livejournal.com]

Oh, just what this place needs. Another druggie.

[bad-trepanation.livejournal.com]

Hello. "And it is incredibly lovely to meet you too," Mason scoffed sarcastically, frowning at Nny and furrowing his eyebrows. Prick.

[wh0-kill3d-m3.livejournal.com]

"Frogs," Laura drawled. "Nature's little green friends, or demon spawn, swamp division?"

[bad-trepanation.livejournal.com]

"Complete demon spawns," Mason prompted back automatically, wrinkling his nose and resisting a grimace. "They're all... froggy. Green little legs and..." He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. "Think if frogs just ate everyone on the planet. What a shit place that would be."

[wh0-kill3d-m3.livejournal.com]

"bzeaaaahhh." Laura shuddered. "Now me, I feel that way about owls, and it's my bad luck to have landed in the one place in the world where everybody loves them. There's a whole roomful of 'em up in one of the towers, and they use 'em as mail birds. 'Hogwarts: A History' says there used to be a lot of toads around here too, not so much at the moment. Not too sure how they felt about frogs though."

[bad-trepanation.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, well... Toads are... pretty much the same 's frogs, right?" he prompted back, scratching at his head. "Except with the warts, naturally." Yes? Maybe? Okay, he had no idea. Like the quote out of his own lips: he was so smart, he was practically retarded. "And. Hang on. Owls? Great big fucking birds with the heads that can go all the way around, all for the better for them to eat mice, yeah?" Buh. Toads AND owls? What kind of place had he happened upon?

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

The small girl reads the application, mentally noting down any new and interesting words to show off in her next letter to Daddy, and looks up.

'What are 'ecstacy tablets'?' Rose enquires.

[bad-trepanation.livejournal.com]

Okay. A nosy little girl. Just what he needs. Mason looked to Rose with an arched eyebrow, leaning forward in his chair. "They're things that a girl your size should very much not be having," he replied in short, marking a spot in the air about a foot or so above her head. "Until you're about this tall. And... not... ten? Nine?"

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

Rose disappears for a moment, small hands gasping the back of the other chair that just happened to be there, what, it's Hogwarts and scraping it along the ground until she returns to Mason, and positions it carefully on the ground. Then, she clambers up, meeting the distance pretty well, she feels.

'Yes, I am nine or ten,' she agrees. 'What are ecstacy tablets?'

[bad-trepanation.livejournal.com]

...Bloody hell, the girl had some smarts. He let his face contort into a bit of a beaten frown, sitting up in his chair and slinging his arm over the back of it again. "Ecstasy. Is a drug," he replied matter-of-factually, raising his eyebrows. "Makes you go all crazy. Colors and shit." Oops. "Crap. Not shit. Don't say 'shit', it's a bad word."

Because he is an upstanding example of 'good' colloquialisms.

[usethepoker.livejournal.com]

((Because I HAVE to. Reaper-to-Reaper FTW!))

Susan arched an eyebrow, hiding a smile. "Demon quill?" she said. "No, the quill's not a demon, though we've got a few of them here. I'd avoid them, though they mainly seem concerned with fighting one another."

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

She rolls her eyes. 'Drugs and sex. It's all anyone thinks about.' Rose lets herself sit on the chair, legs swinging freely. 'And I know that 'shit' is a bad word. Daddy went ballistic when I said Mummy had taught me it.'

Well, technically she'd only written the last of banned words to put on t-shirts on the board and Rose had copied it down. 'Have you got anything else?'

[bad-trepanation.livejournal.com]

"The quills or the demons?" Mason asked with a furrowed look to his eyes, glancing back to the Dictaquill as he started dancing away from him, across pages, some more. "Or demon quills, because, you know. I could frankly do without the lot of them."

[bad-trepanation.livejournal.com]

"Well. Yeah," Mason replied lamely, as though the idea were obvious. "What else is there, really? Besides music and food and death. There's not much." He paused a bit, considering. "Maybe television." Beat. "Or ferrets."

Anything else? Ah, fuck. Mason patted idly at his pockets, wrinkling his nose and sighing. "I don't have much, little girl. I mean. I'm broke, yeah? I've got..." He dug in his pockets a little, frowning. "Lint. Do you want lint? Or a rubber band. I've got one of those."

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

'My name is Permanent Rose,' Rose says, almost snappily. 'And I don't know what lint is.'

He just left art off the list of things that matter. Rose is all thundery.

'I was broke when I came here too,' she adds. 'I still managed good bribes. Have you got any paint?'

[bad-trepanation.livejournal.com]

Yes, well. She also didn't throw all of her money away on booze. There was a difference.

"Yeah, well, I'm mason. And lint is, you know." He removed a pinch of it from his pocket and let it fall to the ground. "This fluffy rubbish in your pocket." Yummy! "Permanent Rose?" Mason repeated with a bit of a grimace, looking up from the lint to Rose with a weird sort of look in his eyes. "Christ, your parents were cruel."

Damn little insistent girl. "No, I don't have any paint," he replied, a little snappily on his own. "I wasn't exactly expecting on showing up in the middle of a castle, you know." Where was this place anyway? He hadn't thought of it much until now. Had he been reassigned? Damn. "I've got what I said and..." God forbid him, this was the only cash he had, "seven bucks in my wallet. But that's it. I mean it."

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

Good point. She doesn't have any money, either, and isn't quite so mentally unhinged as to try and drill a hole in her head for the ultimate high.

'No. My parents are artists.' This could be one and the same. 'My brother is called Indigo and my sister is called Cadmium and my cousin-sort-of-sister is called Saffron.'

'It's a nice castle,' Rose points out, 'too. Hmm. May I have the lint and the rubber band, please?' She can try a Jackson Pollock-like installation.

[bad-trepanation.livejournal.com]

Drilling a what in the where now? Who would go and do a thing like that? ...Now that's just silly.

Mason paused, staring at Rose for a few long seconds and only further wrinkling his nose. The 'artist' thing made sense - naming the children after colors. But still. "What horrid names to give to little girls," he replied shortly. "I don't get why the 'Permanent' then. Unless you're talking about markers."

Okay, he'd give her that. It was pretty nice. "That still doesn't belie the fact that it still is, in fact, a castle. In the middle of nowhere, for all I know." Wait, she actually wanted the lint and the rubber band? Er. "All right." Mason picked around in his pockets, retrieving a... rather substantial (http://www.mamaliz.org/blogs/pinktea/images/ConstantCompanionLint.JPG) amount of lint, and holding the ball and the rubber band out to Rose.

Easiest bribe ever.

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

'It was because I was not very permanent when I was a baby,' she replies calmly, stowing the bribes away for safekeeping (after checking for any holes in her pocket), 'And I nearly died. I had a hole in my heart! And pneumonia.'

She seems quite happy about this. What other nine-year-old girls can say they nearly died? 'Daddy did not find out until he was doing the passport. And it is very nearly the middle of nowhere. Or Scotland.'

[usethepoker.livejournal.com]

"Both, really," she said. "Demons and quills, though so far as I know there are no actual demonic quills." Something about this guy didn't quite jive as human, but she couldn't figure out what it was. "What's an ecstasy tablet, anyway? I'm assuming it's a sort of drug, but I've never heard of it before." Not that she knew a great deal about the drugs of this world, beyond her limited experience with things like the Little Green Apple.

[bad-trepanation.livejournal.com]

"Except for that one," Mason added pointedly, jerking his thumb in the direction of the evil little Dictaquill, hopping up and down on a piece of parchment. Asshole of a thing.

There was something a little... off about Susan too. Mason had automatically labeled her as a reaper - he and Roxy had always had an uncanny sort of ability to tell who was - but maybe it was just that her hair was, you know. A bit odd.

He tugged at the lace of his shoe, wrinkling his nose at Susan. "Honestly. How do you people not know what ecstasy is? This... is a sheltered place. And incredibly sheltered place." He pulled his shoe off, sitting upright and shrugging. "Ecstasy. Methylenedioxymethamphetamine." What? He knew a lot about drugs. "Or E or X or whatever the fuck you want to call it. It's a rave drug. Makes you feel happy. See colors. All that fun shit."

Without a beat, he suddenly slammed his shoe down onto the quill, crushing the thing into a lump of a pile. Victory! "Gotcha, you little fucking devil," he muttered under his breath, entirely too gleefully, and shoved his foot rather unceremoniously back into his shoe. The quill twitched once, a bit painfully.

[bad-trepanation.livejournal.com]

Ahhh. See, that made more sense. Somewhat. "And they thought if they called you 'Permanent', you would have to live up to your name?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. And no, not every nine-year-old could say they had been near the brink of death, but, hell. After being around death so much, you got used to it. He had seen plenty of kids receive their death with a kind of calm. Except for that one brat who kept bitching about not getting his ice cream cone. Arse.

"Scotland?" Whoa. Wait. What? Back up! Being a reaper brought you all over the board, but he was in Scotland? "That's... fucking awesome," he replied, a bit gleefully, glancing around. Oh, fuck, that just posed so much of an opportunity, being that much closer to home.

[usethepoker.livejournal.com]

Susan watched what he did to the quill, raising an eyebrow. "I'd be careful," she said, picking the thing up and, after yanking her wand out of her boot, tapping it back into proper shape. "It's school property--they might give you detention or something." Not that they seemed to care when random explosions took out bits of masonry, but still. "So, basically ecstasy is a little like magic mushrooms? I had a bad experience with those a while back--I think I'll pass." Her and Grandfather both, and that was saying something.

She peered at him, curious, trying to figure out what he was, and then it hit her--he was like Rube, wasn't he? Susan hadn't seen Rube in quite a while, but this young man had the same sort of...vibe, if you wanted to call it that. "Would you by chance know a man named Rube?" she asked.