hh_mirror

vislor-turlough.livejournal.com

Sad to say this has been a long time coming, but I do not feel the enjoyment playing here like I used to, and I think it's time for me to move on.

All my characters: Turlough, Kaga, Panty, Dialga, Freakazoid, Andrew Jackson, Ofdensen, George and Wishbone are now popcorn.

I wish you all the best of luck in your lives, and have fun.

engravedonsouls.livejournal.com

In more recent days, Lenneth had steadily come to the realization that she'd never cooked a day in her life. In fact, Platina hadn't done any cooking either. The lack of food, in the home of the Valkyrie's human form, had forced Platina's mother to do the cooking so that no food was wasted. She could only recall that the meals were terrible but at least Platina had been fed.

And now, Lenneth wondered if perhaps she could cook a meal. She spent the better part of the day hunting for books on cooking, and then searching for recipes that didn't appear complicated. There was a pie that looked good but it seemed like it'd be hard. Maybe she'd try that once she got the hang of cooking. And then she found a recipe for tarts that had some kind of "peanut butter cups" placed in them. That one was certainly tempting, so she made a note of that one. And there was the classic chocolate chip cookies.

The goddess obviously chose the easy and well-loved chocolate chip cookies.

It started out well enough. She mixed the batter, poured in the chips and figured out (after about twenty minutes) how to preheat the oven. When the cookies went in, she was careful and then went to do what else she needed. Lenneth wasn't sure how it happened, but her cookies burned... in fire. She yelped and jumped back before fumbling for her wand and putting it out. Sure, she's a goddess and it couldn't hurt her too terribly but it was still a terrible surprise when your cookies catch fire! Even more so when, as you try to put the fire out, the sleeve of your robe catches fire. Her armor had always been so much more convenient. At least she could put the fire out without help.

But cooking was definitely... Not something she'd be trying for a long while.

arrogantmage.livejournal.com

"You know nothing, Jon Snow!"

In all his studies of arcane lore, in all the vast array of knowledge that the (VP-verse) Philosopher's Stone had granted him, how was it that Lezard never learned the nature of those fateful words?

In a trice, he was popcorn, with a bemused Jon Snow sniffing the buttery wind left in his wake.

When he awoke, shedding a kernel unusually scorched (did the Hat burn him in some malfunctioning microwave?), the mage would recall nothing of Hogwarts save what he had already known. Nothing of Mio, nothing of Amaranth, nothing of Steff. Nothing of the Death Worm he'd unleashed upon the school. Nothing of the dog plants and plant-dogs he'd devised.

In short, everyone else would have the advantage over him — Lenneth Valkyrie first and foremost among them.

is-not-a-droid.livejournal.com

((Grievous is apped with permission from the active Star Wars muns. As Grievous has ended up with 2 backgrounds, an original one and a retconned one, I should state that this is the Clone Wars CGI series Grievous, and will be adhering to the retconned background info given in this series. I have tried not to be spoilery about the series in his app, but, some amount of spoileryness is liable to come up in comments. Timeline-wise, he is being taken from the current point of the Clone Wars series.))

The new arrival said nothing, standing stark still as he found himself in the Sorting Room. After a few seconds, he glanced about, a low, gravelly growl emanating from somewhere within a body which formed an abrupt and jarring contrast to the mostly-organic sound it emitted. As he wore nothing but a dull greenish-grey cape, most of this body was visible, and aside from his eyes, it appeared to be robotic. The next sound was the metallic clatter of clawed digitgrade feet upon the stones of the Sorting Room floor as General Grievous began to pace, robotic hands clasped behind his hunched back. Aside from the cape, the only other accoutrement worn by the cyborg were four tubes secured to his waist, which occasionally clattered against the white plating of his thighs. As he paced, his yellow lizard-like eyes surveyed his surroundings from behind his elongated skull-like face plate- after a moment, they landed upon the application.

( Read more... )

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

ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com

The party was not intended to celebrate Halloween, actually, but to celebrate the existence of pumpkins. It just seemed Halloween would be a good time for that kind of a celebration.

Wizarding culture had a special regard for the pumpkin, making it into tarts and juice and savories, forcing it down the gullets of every magic-user from such a tender age as to form a lifelong habit. The Sorting Hat, being steeped in magic, had also steeped itself in many a vessel of pumpkin juice over the centuries of its storied existence. Pumpkin juice, pumpkin ale, pumpkin hooch. Gooey pumpkin-gut strings, luxurious nutrient-rich slime studded with pale seeds. Oh pumpkins, glorious gourd of wizard's delight!

The Hat had dubbed this party after one of its favorite recipes: the LUSCIOUS PUMPKIN JAM.

The huge doors of the Great Hall were open. While magic kept the chill seasonal drafts from the Great Hall itself, party-goers who wished to enjoy the crisp autumn air could do so from the luxury of a pumpkin carriage. These were quite literally hollowed pumpkins that the Hat's magic had transfigured into full-size carriages, capable of carrying several occupants. Each was lit from within by enchanted candles, and studded with gleaming black jewels, with carved faces in lieu of windows. Several of the enchanted wonders were lined up outside the doors, with their house-elf coachmen ready to whisk students around the school grounds in slightly-gooey, pumpkin-scented comfort.

Indoors, all was warm and merry, and candlelit, and mostly orange. Instead of bobbing for apples, guests could bob for miniature pumpkins, the sort Martha Stewart might have used to decorate a mantelpiece, their tub filled with pumpkin juice in lieu of water. A pumpkin-carving station took prominent position near the doors, with paints and yarn to bedeck uncarved gourds for those students uninterested in pulling out pumpkin pulp. Tables had been moved to accommodate a dance floor, with a karaoke machine placed nearby. Golems inspired by Arcimboldo, wholly composed of autumnal fruits, did duty as waiters and DJs.

From the vantage of the head table, elevated above the main body of the hall, the Hat could take in all at once the entire spectacle. Satisfied, it rapped a self-congratulatory pastiche/homage:

"There ain't no party like a Sorting Hat party 'cause a Sorting Hat party don't STOP!"

The Hat felt most coolio itself, extending a strap to caress languidly the sequined sombrero that lay beside its place at the Great Hall's head table. The sombrero did not respond, of course. It was rather like the hat-equivalent of a RealDoll. Inert though it might be, the sombrero was velvety AND blingy, and that was what mattered.

lemondrop-party.livejournal.com

(( this post is for entertainment purposes only. Albus is not a real therapist. Admittedly inspired by nonsensical sidechat.))

Albus Dumbledore felt he should be doing more on behalf of the children and adults of New Hogwarts. (That was how he sometimes thought of the school, in the Hat-ruled state it had either enjoyed or suffered for some time — oh, it had been years, true; but he had been at Old Hogwarts, proper Hogwarts, for decades longer than the current order had endured, with its Furby and its Kojiro. The change would always feel new to him.)

Perhaps these older students did not need his guidance, or his magical tutelage. Perhaps all he could offer was a cup of tea, a listening ear or a shoulder berobed in absorbent purple WizardGard (the better to wick away tears from the face of a sobbing friend). But offer it he should, and must!

So little fliers were sent out.

Are you oppressed by gloom or doubt?
Do you feel alone in this world?
Would you like a lemondrop or a digestive biscuit?

Know that you are welcome to visit
the office of Professor Emeritus Dumbledore.

gourmetchairman.livejournal.com

It was quiet in the Gryffindor common room.

Was.

In a cloud of Floo Powder Chairman Kaga came out, singing.

He had accepted an invitation from his old friend the Duke of Brissac to celebrate his birthday with him, an invitation he accepted with eagerness.

A good time was had by all the guests, and he was returning a day later, still buzzed from all the wine he drank (and in fact he had a bottle with him for later) and in a merry mood.

i-am-an-hero.livejournal.com

It had been a productive summer for A's garden, and he'd laid in plenty of preserves and pickles and other culinary delights. But the original purpose of his garden had been medicinal, and that didn't go neglected either. He was working on a batch of salve now, carefully grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle, stirring lightly simmering pots of melting beeswax. It was careful work, but not overly demanding, and having River's company made it as pleasant as any leisurely afternoon.

"If this batch comes out well, we should get some nicer jars," he mused, stirring cocoa butter into melting wax. "We could make balms to give as gifts."

tenofgallifrey.livejournal.com

"Master...What are you doing to our room?"

Current Location: i'm sorry, my brain =pfft. Better posts ahead!

brainsickbarbie.livejournal.com

(This unpopcorning was approved by fellow DCU players.)

She was saturated in melted butter, it trickled down her curves, getting lost under her corset and waistband. Rivulets past the tattoo on her exposed hip, and it looked like the Clown Prince was poised to lick it from her skin. She lifted a heavy hand, a six inch colt python at home in her palm. Butter drooled from the barrel, she released the cylinder and examined the bullets awaiting her command. She flicked her wrist, shutting the cylinder with a harsh click. Harley Quinn popped the gum in her mouth.

"Puddin', I'm home."

soggynotecards.livejournal.com

Demyx has finally emerged from the depths of Hufflepuff after a realization:

Today is September 19th. Also known as the best day of the year.

He's enlisted a couple of the house elves to put together some suitable costumes and is currently sitting on a raft just off the shore of the lake. He'd be dangling his feet in the water, except it's Scotland and even though it's only September that would probably just be stupid even if the lake wasn't full of grindylows and things. Either way, he's attempting to teach the house elves he's co-opted a suitable song.

"C'mon, try it again. With catlike tread, upon our prey we steal! In silence dread, our cautious way we feel! No sound at all, we never speak a word! A fly's footfall would be distinctly heard! And you've got to sing it louder than that, too - that's part of the joke, it's a really loud song."

He demonstrates, singing the lines again - at the top of his lungs. The fact that he can get the sound of a full orchestra out of one sitar is probably magic all by itself. And yes, he realizes that Gilbert and Sullivan's pirates don't exactly sound like the pirates you're supposed to talk like, but it's in-theme, right?

( Everyone else below... )

serrulata.livejournal.com

_{A couple days late, I blame work.}

Outside the greenhouses, waiting for the last rays of the sun to disappear from the sky, a mass of red lanterns that had been either purchased, grown, or painstakingly put together littered the ground. There were nearly a hundred, not counting the ones hanging from the gables of the greenhouses, waiting to be lit.

While not everyone at the school celebrated the Mid-Autumn Festival, there was no point in denying fun simply by being a minority. He'd been born in China after all, why not have a little holiday? He'd even bribed the Elves to make moon cakes for whoever passed by, and had little pots of ink and brushes in case anyone wanted to write their wishes on the skyborne lanterns. And, in a fit of creative effort, he'd made the flowers in the greenhouses grow in shapes representing the paper dragons.

Maybe he was having a little too much fun, but... ah, what the hell.

ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com

It's been awhile since we've had an ooc meme thread! And so: If a character of yours was a tea, what would the blend be? (And what would you suggest for others, so long as their muns don't mind?)

As an example- Elric is a white tea with a touch of valerian, willow bark, and damiana. It hasn't been steeped long enough, is rather tepid, and has a funny aftertaste that is might be poisonous.

((Thanks to Nny for this meme idea! If you need some tea-blend inspiration assistance, this site is a nice one.))

wombatminer.livejournal.com

((Digger is taken from after the end of the comic with the assumption she made it home ok; she has vague memories of Hogwarts but nothing specific.))

Digger had thought she was done waking up in ridiculous circumstances, but clearly, this wasn't the case, because in a strange place, surrounded by giant popcorn and covered in butter was ridiculous by anyone's measure. She sighed, facepalming, and then spent a moment furiously trying to wipe melted butter from her eye.

Well, no point crying over cracked marble (or errant dairy products, for that matter) - despite the butter, it didn't seem that anyone was trying to eat her, which was always a plus in Digger's book. And the stonework here was of solid quality, always a good sign - although she couldn't quite shake the feeling that it was somehow familiar. The wombat paused for a moment to extract a stick of chalk from her pack, marked a neat arrow next to the door of the popcorn room, and started along the passageway. Maybe she'd run into someone reasonable, although honestly, Digger wasn't holding out much hope on that score. As likely as not, there would probably be gods involved in a situation like this.

thefuturemrpond.livejournal.com

Amy Pond, Gryffindor said the popcorn plaque.

...this wasn't the worst that could happen, Rory reminded himself. Far from it. She'd be back on the Tardis now. They weren't even apart this time, technically.

He'd just have to wait.

walkingnapalm.livejournal.com

The expression on Liz's face reflected the absurdity of the places she'd found herself before. Nothing like headed into a cave on one side of the world and ending up once more on the other. Pretty much. It was Scotland again, right? That counted for something. Except this time, it wasn't some place on a desolate hillside (and she wasn't naked). This was a castle. Better than that it seemed inhabited and not by the usual standard of well... things that she'd bumped into during her time with the BPRD.

So when a piece of parchment and a quill appeared from nowhere it still didn't that much a reaction from her. "So now I have to fill this out?"

( The fire is not my enemy, it is a part of me, it is mine. )

"I have read the

hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. _____Liz_______
I have read the

hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. _____Liz______.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. ____Liz_______.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. _____Liz________"

ponyfectionist.livejournal.com

Jherek Carnelian and Rarity had been palling around, and had come to the conclusion that Hogwarts required a bit of aggressive beautification- neither of them being the sort to tackle anyone and force 'good taste' upon them, they had decided that offering free makeovers in the Great Hall was the best way to go about this- not only was it a way to spread the importance of aesthetics, it was an excellent opportunity to advertise Rarity's boutique in Sparklypoo.

A corner of the Great Hall was now given over to their temporary makeovers booth, much of which would be disseminated into the ether from which it came when they were done with their endeavor. The booth itself was an elegant pavilion which would not have been out of place in Canterlot, draped in pale iridescent silks, and liberally spangled with jewels (most of which were artificially created by Jherek, considering their size). The poles were golden-accented, and a small swathe of perfectly trimmed grass had been conjured up to surround it. A number of perfectly-manicured rosebushes and cute little topiaries adored this little lawn, sporting huge metallic blossoms of silver and gold. At the entrance to the sign a marquee proclaimed "Free Makeovers" in elaborate script, with the by-line of "Courtesy of Carousel Boutique Hogwarts".

For the occasion, Jherek had put together a 'French' outfit- a striped black and white shirt, close fitting, with tight black pants, a little red scarf, and a beret atop his shorter-than-usual hair. He'd felt it a stylishly conservative choice, especially when accessorized with a small false mustache and an opium cigarette in a long lacquered holder, which it was. Rarity had decided to show off in one of her more magnificent creations, a recreation of a rather lovely ensemble in fuchsia and gold, complete with a tiara and glass slippers, that had been one of the few highlights of an otherwise disastrous evening some time past. She had set out a few simpler creations, a few decorated baskets of gems, and some small tasteful bottled waters with her boutique's logo pony-magicked over their former labels, in view of passers-by. She stood out front, levitating one of the gem baskets first one way, then another, looking for just the perfect location for them to reflect the light in the most aesthetically pleasing manner.

onefootinhades.livejournal.com

Well he had to find out about the deal eventually didn't he. Dean didn't know all of the details of what went down between Sam and Crowley but right now he's more concerned about why. But once he figured out where his brother was, he was going to make sure that every little thing was explained to him.

Current Mood: pissed

engravedonsouls.livejournal.com

Lenneth had spent far to much time inside the castle, exploring each corridor, room, the computer lab (gods in Asgard, she would not be spending more than a few minutes at a time in there with those things) and the library and, of course, practicing with the instruments that Lezard had left her. With enough time here, Lenneth had calmed considerably when it came to the necromancer but she'd be unlikely to seek him out at any time and she'd be damned if she attempted to play nice.

It had been a thoughtful gesture though, delivering her those instruments. Lenneth had grown quite fond of them, which was one of the reasons she'd spent so much time in the library.

With the weather as warm as it had been lately, Lenneth had decided to go for a swim. And with the people here, she'd sooner enter a divine sleep than swim naked as she might have with her sisters and the elves in Midgard. So she spent some time finding a swim suit. Oddly enough, the only one she could find that would fit her comfortably was quite frilly and exposed much of her body, much to her disappointment. Others wouldn't be so objective towards it, she was sure. So she was careful as she went out to the lake.

From experience, she knew lake water would be far more cold than a pool. And that was to her liking. The chill of the water would feel refreshing, make her feel like she was more full of life than ever. And, if she had been tired, it would wake her in a heartbeat.

my-soul-itches.livejournal.com

Someone let Megan into the wine coolers in the Ravenclaw bar.

If asked later, she wouldn't say who, and she would mostly insist that the ensuing hangover meant that she would never do it again, and she would insist that she meant to play Dazzler really loud out in the Great Hall instead of Erasure. Specifically, "Always" on repeat and she couldn't get it to stop. But that was okay! She was just fine dancing to it. Dancing and accidentally puffing out her pixie dust.

Unfortunately for those caught underneath in the swirls of pink dust, it was hallucinogenic. Fortunately, it was awesome.

((Because the mun has had the song in her head all week, everyone else can ~~suffer~~ share! Visions given by Megan's pixie dust are benign--and for the purposes of this post, mostly along the lines of this, thematically--music, dolphins, rainbows, fairies, robots, double jumping, whatever. Though it's mostly a cracky suggestion and not a rule.))

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Recent Entries

[[OOC]] Farewell

Today in Lenneth's kitchen of fail...

closed one-shot (w/ permission from Jon Snow-mun)

Application : General Grievous (Star Wars : Clone Wars)

Luscious Pumpkin Jam (dated to Halloween night)

The doctor is in! Albus Dumbledore, therapist at large!

[open RP] Happy Belated Birthday

RP for A and River

(no subject)

Harley Quinn (Batman: Arkham City Companion Comic Series)

AHOY!

Raising the Red Lanterns (Open, Grounds, sunset)

ooc meme: tea

The Unpopping of a Wombat ((open rp))

((open rp))

Liz Sherman ~ Hellboy/BPRD

Makeovers! (Open RP)