Everyone knew it had to happen ((sock, Maddie, Mello))

[noseymaddie.livejournal.com]

((OOC: why oh why did they have to be pointed to each other...))

Let’s set the scene, shall we? The school library, with its myriad of books and tables will do nicely. Yes, let’s have Maddie in the library because we haven’t thus far. Not that she doesn’t like books, you see. She loves them. Her apartment is utterly full of them. Just, she’s been preoccupied thus far. But, she’s found the library and is even more convinced than ever that this place is completely nutters. But, she’s reading anyways.
( More more more... )

Open RP - Slytherin Prefect hours and game night

[ugly-imp.livejournal.com]

It had been far too long since Tyrion had held prefect hours. And it had been far too long since his mun had done anything with him.

Thus it was that he had appropriated the Slytherin common room as his prefect office. He'd drawn the tables together into small clusters, and the house elves had been sent to find cards, dice, and whatever else people liked to gamble with. Tyrion himself was perched at one of these tables, a small pile of gold Galleons in front of him. He'd just put a sign up on the door to the common room that read:

SLYTHERIN GAME NIGHT AND PREFECT HOURS
ALL GAMES OF CHANCE WELCOME!

In small print he'd added:
"The management is not responsible for any cheating that may occur. Please try not to bet your soul on a game played here. You should all know better than that."

Tyrion idly tossed a handful of dice as he gave last-minute instructions to his new assistant to the prefect. Dwight was supposed to be earning his keep by helping the house elves serve drinks and acting as a bouncer, because Tyrion didn't actually know that Dwight was, in fact, Lousy in a fight. In further fact, Tyrion didn't much like Dwight, and he would have rather had the wildling Chagga, for example, serving in this capacity, because Dwight probably couldn't keep a room of infants well-behaved, whereas the wildling would happily dismember people and feed them to the goats. But there were no goats at Hogwarts, and no amusing wildlings, so Tyrion was stuck with Dwight. Oh well, one worked with what one had.

He'd left the door open, allowing anyone from any house that wanted to come wander by the dungeons to do so, and now he waited to see who would show up and what they'd play.

Dunder-Mifflin, this is an open RP...

[the-office-pam.livejournal.com]

Just beyond the main doors and inside the entranceway to Hogwarts Castle was a tall desk. It was the sort of desk one would see in the reception area of a generic American office -- chest high, beige, and entirely nondescript except for three things: the "RECEPTION" name plaque that sat atop it, the jar of mixed jelly beans that sat next to said plaque, and the girl with wavyish light-brown hair who sat behind it. And right now, that girl, one Pam Beesly, looked entirely bored.

This was Michael's new thing: having her sit at a reception desk right smack at the front of the school. It was as though he thought Hogwarts itself was Dunder-Mifflin, a misconception that didn't surprise Pam. She knew Michael all too well. And truth be told, she didn't mind sitting there, except for the fact that she was all by herself -- no Phyllis, no Toby, no Oscar...no Jim.

Not even Kelly, her former roommate, who one day, in the middle of a stream of chatter about Britney's blubber and baby bumps, had suddenly flown up into the air and turned into a piece of popcorn.

At this point, Pam was so bored and lonely that she would even have been grateful for some company from Dwight.

She didn't even need the job anymore; it wasn't as though she had to pay rent to live in Hufflepuff, and the food at Hogwarts was free. But for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to quit. Maybe it was because she didn't want to hurt Michael's feelings, or maybe it was that she was used to this job. Or maybe she just really liked the office chair Michael had gotten for her; she might as well be comfortable if all she was going to do all day was doodle, anyway.

So she just sat there for her shift, drawing pictures of parchment reams and staplers and waiting for five o'clock to arrive. And if anyone approached her, she'd politely look up and say, "Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam," as Michael had instructed.

((Feel free to throw your chars at Pam!))