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hh_mirror2007-08-22 12:12 pm
turnthenipsdown.livejournal.com) wrote in hh_mirror2007-08-22 12:12 pm
Application for Sasan, from So NoTORIous
Okay, this place? Effing huge. No really, the vaulted ceilings. Gorgeous woodwork up there, if Sasan should say so himself. The cobblestone floors? Tapestries and plush carpeting and guh. Totally... some past century or something. Medieval. Something like that. But compared to The Mansion, said with implied capitals for emphasis? Seriously, ew. Look at all the cobwebs in the upper corners. Practically inhabitable.
Why was he here again? ...Wasn't he supposed to have ended up in the nice, sunny Caribbean? Sipping a mimosa or something. This was... England? Scotland? Hello, something with castles. ...Maybe he shouldn't have taken that Valium before the plane ride, this totally wasn't an island vacation. Not fun. No way he could wear his new Maschino sandals here. Well, he could, but not nearly the same dramatic effect as there would be in the Bahamas. And there was near to nil chance of boys. Pretty boys. In Speedos. Woe.
Ugh. This couldn't be good for his pores. And they were already being stressed into clogging, and that face wash was not doing its job, the label totally lied.
Anyway.
Sasan shrugged his carry-on bag onto the table, nose wrinkled at the room around him. Stark bare. Nothing but rock and this... weird little... table? Rustic. He'd give it that. But, God, boring. This room could use some definite sprucing. Nice new curtains in the windows... Ooh, and definitely some displays. China? No, too tacky. Something to dress it up. ...At least a vase, jeez.
...What the hell had he walked into anyway? Sasan straightened out his jacket and slid onto the table with a delicate sort of ease that showed just how much he disapproved of the room. Which was more of a huffy slump, really, as he crossed his ankle across his knee and grasped at one of the papers. Was this some weird little survey or something? Ooh, like on Myspace? Those were such time fillers, they were addicting. Um. ...Not that he had a Myspace. ...Or over seven hundred and seventy nine friends. ...Never mind.
Ahem.
1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?
Did he even have a pen? No? Too bad. He plopped his chin onto a palm, eying the paper with a frown. Hmm. Cheese? ...How random. Not even name or sex or favorite color or something first. Just cheese. Oh, well. Maybe it would tell him what his aura was at the end or something. Because he totally got purple last time he did one of those, and he was fairly sure he was more of a sky blue.
"Does cheesecake count?" he speculated aloud to himself. "I mean, it's hell with the cream and all that crap, but, yum." As a Dictaquill sprang into life, doodling out his answer and hello, he may or may not have let out a decisively un-manly yelp of surprise. The thing could move. Oh, man. Where could he get one of those? Writing always gave such a hand cramp, God, there was a reason he loved his laptop. "Uh?" he asked, experimentally, as the quill scrawled out the two letters. Awesome.
2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?
Kill? Oh, God, no way, he couldn't kill anyone. Especially with a knife or something like that and, ew, it would get on his hands and be all gross and sticky and urgh, that couldn't be good for his skin, and that would undo all what the L'Oreal had been doing. Unless it was damn Paris Hilton and her total slut ways. There was a reason she ended up in jail! If not just for the nose job alone, come on.
"Carrottop," he scoffed, decisively, wrinkling his nose like something smelled bad in the room. And that pen thing was just way too cool. Anyway. "The hair? His skin is just dying for moisturizer. Hello, boy's in need of a massive makeover. Not that it could save him. Just... ew."
3. What time is it where you are?
Time? Okay, whatever. He eyed his watch with a tilt of his head, debating. "It issss..." Time for him to get a room with actual decor involved? Maybe? Yeah. "Seven forty-two." ...Woo hoo?
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.
Sexual harassment? Oh, now that was something he could do. ...Maybe not the whole coming back from the dead thing, that was a little off, to say the least. Being a zombie would be kind of gross. "Depends." Who was the Order of the Phoenix? ...Was that some band? And anything like Fall Out Boy? Because Pete Wentz was kind of short but, damn, he'd seen those pictures from his Sidekick, and there was a substantial amount of man there for Sasan to take.
Okay, maybe it wasn't Fall Out Boy. "Order of the Phoenix?" he offered weakly instead, and glanced up, as if expecting validation. Nobody nearby. Boo, no fun. "I don't know. ...Who's got the biggest cock?" He could almost picture Tori thwapping his arm, and defenses were automatically set in place. "What? Inquiring minds! They want to know!"
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? Oh, that could be so fun. He'd definitely wanted to take a class on that once. And not just because the teacher went to his gym and had you seen that ass? God, what he wouldn't have paid to tap that. Anyway, it didn't work out. And that other guy from the bench press had been way easier.
"Does it have to be dark?" he asked, a bit poutily. "Aesthetically pleasing lighting is crucial for a warm environment, you know." No? Oh well. "I suppose if you were going for the Brad Pitt slash Ed Norton sort of thing? Could work. Anyway, it would definitely be Fight Club. Just for that." And if Brad Pitt showed up himself, he would not be complaining.
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.
Ooh, here were the goods. Because, you know, if this was anything like the Janie-Kyle-him thing, hello, drama. Which was where the fun was at. Duh. Late night phone gossiping. Giggling? Shut up, it was more fun than you knew.
"Has he asked himself the three B's? Brains, Butterfaces, Bed?" He sighed, and elaborated, as though the answer were something entirely too obvious. "Which one's smarter, which one's hotter. Which one's more limber?" He gave a sniff, shrugging and slouching in his seat again. "I dunno, ask Zeus. He was the manwhore of Mount Olympus. Guy got more tail than Furcadia."
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.
Ew, paperwork. Totally annoying. But, you know. Necessary. "Maybe you're trying to start the totally chic Lane Bryant for dogs and your friend is totally slacking off on some Canadian F-movie." Clearly, because that happened to everybody. "You know, you should organize. If you wanna type it out, maybe. On the computer? Computers equal so much easier to handle." He paused, debating. "Or tabs? Sorting? I don't know."
D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.
Useless? Sasan's jaw automatically dropped, in an entirely scandalized expression. Okay, he was in head to toe Marc Jacobs right now. You weren't anything near resembling useless when you looked this fabulous. Thank you.
"Tori Spelling? Hi, me, her best friend and resident gay man on the premises?" He let out of a huffy sort of breath, brushing a hair out of his face and wondering... vaguely, why he was getting so antsy about a Myspace quiz. Thing. "Trust me, that much influence? I'm so not useless. I have a total kind of weirdo power over her or something. No, really, she'd marry me, if I didn't like the beans better than the tacos. I'd make a fantastic wife." Beat. "Husband. ...Same difference. Besides, I'd be doing all the decorating."
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.
...Uhhh. A bribe? Oh, jeez, totally not prepared for this. Not nearly the pressure of getting the right present for Kiki or something but, God, what was? Maybe fitting into the Juicy Couture jeans after a cheeseburger or two. No, seriously, he had to coat hanger those suckers on.
"Um, there's..." He flipped open his bag. "Peanuts?" From the flight? No? He tossed the pack onto the table, frowning a little. He'd swiped a few of those itty bottles of liquor, that could work, right? Everyone liked booze. Definitely added to the pile.
God, he couldn't get rid of any of this, what the hell. "I suppose I could maybe possibly part with the Dolce and Gabanna's," he commented aloud, a bit sadly, picking at the aviator sunglasses hanging off the front of his polo. "Ugh, I dunno. They're so pretty. Just have the peanuts." Problem? Solved.
"I have read the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. Sasan.
I have read thehogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. Sasan.
I agree to be a good sport and not get myknickersnew Cavalli boxers and they're silk, don't be jealous. In a bunch. Sasan.
One day,marmaladeKiki Spelling will rule the world. ...Oh, wait, she totally does already. Sasan.
Why was he here again? ...Wasn't he supposed to have ended up in the nice, sunny Caribbean? Sipping a mimosa or something. This was... England? Scotland? Hello, something with castles. ...Maybe he shouldn't have taken that Valium before the plane ride, this totally wasn't an island vacation. Not fun. No way he could wear his new Maschino sandals here. Well, he could, but not nearly the same dramatic effect as there would be in the Bahamas. And there was near to nil chance of boys. Pretty boys. In Speedos. Woe.
Ugh. This couldn't be good for his pores. And they were already being stressed into clogging, and that face wash was not doing its job, the label totally lied.
Anyway.
Sasan shrugged his carry-on bag onto the table, nose wrinkled at the room around him. Stark bare. Nothing but rock and this... weird little... table? Rustic. He'd give it that. But, God, boring. This room could use some definite sprucing. Nice new curtains in the windows... Ooh, and definitely some displays. China? No, too tacky. Something to dress it up. ...At least a vase, jeez.
...What the hell had he walked into anyway? Sasan straightened out his jacket and slid onto the table with a delicate sort of ease that showed just how much he disapproved of the room. Which was more of a huffy slump, really, as he crossed his ankle across his knee and grasped at one of the papers. Was this some weird little survey or something? Ooh, like on Myspace? Those were such time fillers, they were addicting. Um. ...Not that he had a Myspace. ...Or over seven hundred and seventy nine friends. ...Never mind.
Ahem.
1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?
Did he even have a pen? No? Too bad. He plopped his chin onto a palm, eying the paper with a frown. Hmm. Cheese? ...How random. Not even name or sex or favorite color or something first. Just cheese. Oh, well. Maybe it would tell him what his aura was at the end or something. Because he totally got purple last time he did one of those, and he was fairly sure he was more of a sky blue.
"Does cheesecake count?" he speculated aloud to himself. "I mean, it's hell with the cream and all that crap, but, yum." As a Dictaquill sprang into life, doodling out his answer and hello, he may or may not have let out a decisively un-manly yelp of surprise. The thing could move. Oh, man. Where could he get one of those? Writing always gave such a hand cramp, God, there was a reason he loved his laptop. "Uh?" he asked, experimentally, as the quill scrawled out the two letters. Awesome.
2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?
Kill? Oh, God, no way, he couldn't kill anyone. Especially with a knife or something like that and, ew, it would get on his hands and be all gross and sticky and urgh, that couldn't be good for his skin, and that would undo all what the L'Oreal had been doing. Unless it was damn Paris Hilton and her total slut ways. There was a reason she ended up in jail! If not just for the nose job alone, come on.
"Carrottop," he scoffed, decisively, wrinkling his nose like something smelled bad in the room. And that pen thing was just way too cool. Anyway. "The hair? His skin is just dying for moisturizer. Hello, boy's in need of a massive makeover. Not that it could save him. Just... ew."
3. What time is it where you are?
Time? Okay, whatever. He eyed his watch with a tilt of his head, debating. "It issss..." Time for him to get a room with actual decor involved? Maybe? Yeah. "Seven forty-two." ...Woo hoo?
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.
Sexual harassment? Oh, now that was something he could do. ...Maybe not the whole coming back from the dead thing, that was a little off, to say the least. Being a zombie would be kind of gross. "Depends." Who was the Order of the Phoenix? ...Was that some band? And anything like Fall Out Boy? Because Pete Wentz was kind of short but, damn, he'd seen those pictures from his Sidekick, and there was a substantial amount of man there for Sasan to take.
Okay, maybe it wasn't Fall Out Boy. "Order of the Phoenix?" he offered weakly instead, and glanced up, as if expecting validation. Nobody nearby. Boo, no fun. "I don't know. ...Who's got the biggest cock?" He could almost picture Tori thwapping his arm, and defenses were automatically set in place. "What? Inquiring minds! They want to know!"
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? Oh, that could be so fun. He'd definitely wanted to take a class on that once. And not just because the teacher went to his gym and had you seen that ass? God, what he wouldn't have paid to tap that. Anyway, it didn't work out. And that other guy from the bench press had been way easier.
"Does it have to be dark?" he asked, a bit poutily. "Aesthetically pleasing lighting is crucial for a warm environment, you know." No? Oh well. "I suppose if you were going for the Brad Pitt slash Ed Norton sort of thing? Could work. Anyway, it would definitely be Fight Club. Just for that." And if Brad Pitt showed up himself, he would not be complaining.
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.
Ooh, here were the goods. Because, you know, if this was anything like the Janie-Kyle-him thing, hello, drama. Which was where the fun was at. Duh. Late night phone gossiping. Giggling? Shut up, it was more fun than you knew.
"Has he asked himself the three B's? Brains, Butterfaces, Bed?" He sighed, and elaborated, as though the answer were something entirely too obvious. "Which one's smarter, which one's hotter. Which one's more limber?" He gave a sniff, shrugging and slouching in his seat again. "I dunno, ask Zeus. He was the manwhore of Mount Olympus. Guy got more tail than Furcadia."
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.
Ew, paperwork. Totally annoying. But, you know. Necessary. "Maybe you're trying to start the totally chic Lane Bryant for dogs and your friend is totally slacking off on some Canadian F-movie." Clearly, because that happened to everybody. "You know, you should organize. If you wanna type it out, maybe. On the computer? Computers equal so much easier to handle." He paused, debating. "Or tabs? Sorting? I don't know."
D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.
Useless? Sasan's jaw automatically dropped, in an entirely scandalized expression. Okay, he was in head to toe Marc Jacobs right now. You weren't anything near resembling useless when you looked this fabulous. Thank you.
"Tori Spelling? Hi, me, her best friend and resident gay man on the premises?" He let out of a huffy sort of breath, brushing a hair out of his face and wondering... vaguely, why he was getting so antsy about a Myspace quiz. Thing. "Trust me, that much influence? I'm so not useless. I have a total kind of weirdo power over her or something. No, really, she'd marry me, if I didn't like the beans better than the tacos. I'd make a fantastic wife." Beat. "Husband. ...Same difference. Besides, I'd be doing all the decorating."
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.
...Uhhh. A bribe? Oh, jeez, totally not prepared for this. Not nearly the pressure of getting the right present for Kiki or something but, God, what was? Maybe fitting into the Juicy Couture jeans after a cheeseburger or two. No, seriously, he had to coat hanger those suckers on.
"Um, there's..." He flipped open his bag. "Peanuts?" From the flight? No? He tossed the pack onto the table, frowning a little. He'd swiped a few of those itty bottles of liquor, that could work, right? Everyone liked booze. Definitely added to the pile.
God, he couldn't get rid of any of this, what the hell. "I suppose I could maybe possibly part with the Dolce and Gabanna's," he commented aloud, a bit sadly, picking at the aviator sunglasses hanging off the front of his polo. "Ugh, I dunno. They're so pretty. Just have the peanuts." Problem? Solved.
"I have read the
hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. Sasan.I have read the
hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. Sasan.I agree to be a good sport and not get my
One day,
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At any rate, this was troubling. Spitting image? What was he talking about? Someone else who looked like him? No, this was his gorgeous complexion, despite the competing Iranian-ness with the Muslim-ness and the predominant gay-ness. Definitely his perfect facial structure. Who else? Not fair!
"Furcadia, site with people who like to do cats or whatever," Sasan dismissed with a wave of his hand, fixing Peter with a stare. "Um, hi? Who?" Said, of course, as though the poor Petrelli had a few extra chromosomes in store.
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a few fries shortat Sasan like he'd walked into an incredibly strange universe. "I don't know if that's his actual name. His hair is a bit shorter, and you look less evil, but it's definitely the same face."Intrigued, Peter reached out and poked Sasan in the chest. Huh. Actually real. "Sorry, I'm just weirded out," he smiled apologetically.
Then, the explanation of Furcadia caught up with him. And the information did not compute. "People who like to do cats," he repeated. Wait, what. Seriously? "You mean, zoophilia?"
no subject
Clearly, he had to be destroyed.
Until then. Hi. Was he flirting al--no? He was... poking. What the heck? "Trust me," he replied, of course mistaking the check for fantastical means with... a pec test or something? No idea. "It's all real, baby." And took him months to build up, so bitches best respect.
Oy, always with the furries, this one, wasn't he? "Zoophilia?" Sasan asked, with a weird sort of expression. "Isn't that someone who's afraid of zoos? Because, I don't know, they could be. But they dress up in weirdo teddy bear costumes and fuck each other. Hell if I know the details beyond that. Keeping the hot dog out of the package of moldy buns, if you know what I mean."
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"Actually," Peter piped up, "Zoophilia is the fetish for animals. You can tell, because it has philia on the end. Phobia would be the fear of something. And 'zoo' is actually a prefix for animals, in that case." Way to go Peter, look like you know way too much about this sort of thing.
And cue Peter's subtle horror when Sasan talked about people in teddy bear costumes having sex with each other. Okay, that was wrong. On so many levels. "Oh. That's... pretty disturbing, actually." How would that work? No, he shouldn't ask, he didn't want to know.
no subject
Har, pun.Okay, so a few more brain cells than Sasan had been giving Peter credit for. Or, he was just reciting Wikipedia articles or something. Whichever came first. "So..." Not fear. He knew that. Totally. "They like... Oh, ew," he grimaced, sticking out his tongue, in a clear way of communicating 'do not want' across his features.
And it just got worse and worse. Why was this guy so into furries? Or not, but still! Asking about it! "God, can we... switch topics? Anything better? Kelly Clarkson's new CD? God, football! Something!"
no subject
Switching topics was a very good idea. At the mention of Kelly Clarkson, Peter brightened. "Isn't the new CD great?" he grinned. "I couldn't stop listening to How I Feel for the longest time." If this guy wasn't a fan, he'd probably just made the biggest idiot of himself. "Are you a fan?"
no subject
Maybe not so straight. ...Maybe he was flirting. ...No, you don't talk about fucking animals while you're flirting unless you're really that much of a weirdo. Or if he had a crush on this Sylar guy, the mental thing was transferring over to Sasan's face... Ahhh, there we go. Drama! Five minutes here and he was creating his own soap opera.
Anyway. It was fangirling time. "Oh, God," Sasan automatically spewed, hands flailing around for a moment before they clapped over his mouth, a little too excitedly. It was Kelly Clarkson, he was obviously excused. "I was just talking about (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1437457.html?thread=73242129#t73242129) how 'How I Feel' is, like, totally the best song of all time, guh. Love her."
no subject
But... wow, this guy was really excited about Kelly Clarkson. If the flailing and the gushing were any indication. Cool!
"I think what I really liked what the lyrics of some of those songs," Peter agreed, pushing hair out of his face with an eager grin. "A lot of popular pop these days just have nonsense lyrics about... I don't know, milkshakes or retarded people. They're catchy, sure, but the lyrics from My December really just spoke to me."
no subject
Kelly Clarkson. Made of things much more important than closets and Zuba pants. "Well, I mean, my milkshake brings more boys to the yard than Kelis," Sasan scoffed, finger to his chin in contemplation. "But, ohmigosh, I know what you mean, she's just so... deep. If I wanted a soundtrack to my life. She would write it."