Closed RP: Tent City FTW

[usethepoker.livejournal.com]

( Welcome to the sideshow, I'm cutting to the chase/Yeah I can hear you thinking it's going all to waste/I don't mean to offend you when I look you in the eyes/What's all this commotion? It leaves me mystified )

Application for George (Georgina) Grainger; Rob Thurman's Nightlife/Moonshine

[girl-george.livejournal.com]

A petite girl made her way into the sorting room, wearing a plain, white-strapped summer dress and thong sandals. The only other accessories were a cloth rucksack hanging from a shoulder and a leather chord tied around her wrist. Copper curls that once dangled in a wave past her shoulders had been brutally sheared a couple months before, and now were just coiling about her ears. She did not appear to be perturbed by the isolation greeting her, although it was quite a different greeting most frosh received. For, while she looked a few years younger and behaved many years wiser, George was just old enough to be starting college.

“Hello,” George said as a greeting, and not as the question many applicants opened their Hogwarts careers with. She watched with delight as the quill start to take down her greeting, and repeated her salutation, this time directed at the dancing feather. “Hello.” She went to the chair and silently pulled it back. She slipped out of her sandals to sit at the chair on her knees, moving a hand to gently take the quill. “May I?” Whatever silent communication took place evidently resulted in acquiescence, and the dark-skinned teen was soon filling out the application herself.

( Arrival of the Freckle Queen. )

"I have read the hogwarts_hocus   faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. George.
I have read the hogwarts_hocus  rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. George.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. George.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. George."

Marriage hurts. A lot. ((Closed RP))

[crossed-my-mind.livejournal.com]

To his credit, Trent got a fair distance down the hallway before the house elves caught up with him and shocked the sense back into him. What sense there was, at least. They would be shocking him until the cattle came looking for their prods before they'd get real sense back into him.

After being allowed out of the Sorting Room, John ran in the first direction he could get a clear shot at, screaming at the top of his lungs to keep the gremlins away. The elves had tackled him quite effectively, although the ones at the bottom of the dog pile were now brushing themselves off and wondering if it would break any house-elf laws to scrub themselves with steel wool and boiling water, and if they could burn their rags and just go around naked. A few several volts could get anyone moving in the right direction, though, and soon they dropped Trent off in room A3.

Which is where he was some time later, huddled into the corner and too terrified to move, much less repaint the walls or even shower.