[identity profile] daniels-thief.livejournal.com
Vala looked round in confusion, her hand going for the knife down the side of her boot. She'd been with the rest of the team, hadn't she?  They'd been scouting out some hideous backwater pub looking for a contact.  She'd even got dressed up to play the part of the hardened criminal, leather and all, and they'd been about to walk through in to the bar area - except this really wasn't the right place any more.  This wasn't even the pub. 

"Anybody there?"

No response.  A cursory search of the room revealed nothing except for a table with a piece of parchment, and a quill hovering above it.  Right.  A levitating feather.  As magic tricks went, pretty pathetic, but still...never scoff at a miracle, she always said.  Leaning over, she read the first line aloud.

ExpandOne day she'd set foot offworld without bizare things happening. It would probably be very dull. )

I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. ______Vala______
I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. ______Vala_____.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. ______Vala_____.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. _______Vala______"
[identity profile] engravedonsouls.livejournal.com
Lenneth's eyes roamed the room she found herself in. Her wings were spread, pristine white and almost shining. She did not move a muscle for mere moments ago she had been with her sisters and allies, standing before Lezard in his twisted world. Her right hand is held till over the hilt of her blade, waiting for some sign of hostilities.

None came, and the Goddess allowed herself to relax. Her wings vanished, only a couple feathers falling the the ground around her. Normally used to show that a fallen warrior was chosen to fight for the gods, Lenneth cannot help but spare them a moments glance as she recalled times when that was all she was meant for.

ExpandAllow me to elucidate. )

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

[identity profile] chipsandwich.livejournal.com
Stepping through a doorway and finding himself somewhere totally unexpected was... well, not entirely outside of his experience. Out of the ordinary, maybe, but not his ordinary.
Still, being alone in an unfamiliar place was unsettling, and as he set to examine the room, he hoped that his friends were just out of sight. "Rani? Sarah Jane?" He'd been with them just moments ago, hadn't he? "Luke?" And, a long shot, but possible: "Maria?"
And since he was suddenly in a place that wasn't merely unfamiliar but that somehow felt strange, "Doctor? Is this one of your... things?"

ExpandThat was when he spotted the quill and parchment. )

"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. ______CL______
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. _____CL______.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. ______CL_____.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. _____CL________"
[identity profile] ponyfectionist.livejournal.com
((Sorry for the no-notice hiatus! Many bad things happened. I won't go into it. Here's a pony who knows how to use a sewing machine.))

It had taken longer than she had expected. For all her unique and special gem-finding talents, this place seemed somewhat less gem-saturated than Equestria had been. And anything worth making was simply not worth making without at least a token gem or two. Or ten. And then, of course, she had to find house elves to assist her in digging them up, not having a useful and somewhat infatuated baby dragon willing to help her to keep her hooves from getting dirty.

Finally, after days of slaving away over her sewing machine, her room in Sparklypoo filled with scraps of fabric and completed ensembles and small heaps of carefully sorted unused gems, she sent out a few house elves (well-cleaned; they were not going to get her precious creations dirty!) with packages wrapped in very tasteful paper and notes attached. Her penmanship was, like everything else about her so long as she was not stressed or in the throes of drama, impeccable.

ExpandFor Dialga: )

ExpandFor Jem: )

ExpandFor Beowulf: )

ExpandFor Lorne: )

ExpandFor Jaime: )
[identity profile] nize-hat.livejournal.com
((Maxim has a very thick Eastern European derived accent- I apologize if it gets confusing. Maxim is a 'Jägermonster' - they doesn't really have any special 'powers' persay, but have superhuman strength and resiliency as well as highly enhanced senses of smell (and hearing in Maxim's case). His right arm is mechanical, but, doesn't appear to be 'special', merely a functional replacement (unless something's yet to be revealed in his canon).))

"Vell now, dis iz confuzink. . . Oggie? Dimo? Vere are hyus?"

What appeared on a glance to be a quite attractive young man appeared in the Sorting Room, looking very perplexed- that he had purple skin and pointed ears were immediate evidence that he was something other than human. Aside from the bluish scales and silver spikes on the single pauldron he wore, he was perfectly coordinated in purple and red, with gold accents. He adjusted the jaunty wide-brimmed hat atop his long purple hair, attempting to figure out where he was. Moments before, he'd been in audience with the Jägergenerals, and now, he was. . . somewhere castle-y.

"Am hy in de kestle, mebbe? Hullo, Miz Agatha? Are hyu here?" Maxim, the newest arrival at Hogwarts, could only think of one nearby castle, which did happen to contain a good-enough explanation as to why he might suddenly appear there. Where sparks were concerned, anything might happen. But, it didn't take more than a few seconds for Maxim to notice the utter lack of gears, clanks, the previously mentioned individuals, and, anything remotely sparky. "Dis is kind ov fonny. . ." he mumbled to no one in particular, as the realization that he was Somewhere Else began to set in. Sudden transportation to Somewhere Else was pretty odd, but, odd was a matter of course when dealing with mad science- and Maxim was not only used to mad science, he was a product of it.

ExpandRead more... )

"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. Maxim
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. Maxim
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. Maxim
One day, marmalade hats Heterodynes will rule the world. Maxim
[identity profile] ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com
(( OOC: The CWB event is going so well! Everyone is being awesome and now it's time to wrap it up. We definitely have enough attackers, with enough luck, to defeat the bear. Since we have so many separate fight threads going on but there is only one Canadian Weasley Bear, we thought we should bring it all together. To avoid getting hung up on posting order, here's how it will work:

One of the fighters posts a comment
|
The Hat account replies for the Bear
|
Any other fighter replies to that Bear comment
|
The Hat account replies again for the Bear
|
Any other fighter replies to that comment

Etc, until we think the Bear has been vanquished! This way we keep it all in one thread, but we also avoid getting stalled by posting order. The Bear will be played with speed by mods who've subscribed to the thread, so that there won't be a lag on the Bear's side. Make sense? If not, give us a shout. ))

ExpandScores thus far, in order of success: )

***
Expandour story thus far!!! )

Time to take this ginger menace down.
[identity profile] hogwarts-kojiro.livejournal.com
Ask Dean Winchester, and he might tell you he'd escaped the Hat Shore dome. Ask the Sorting Hat, and it might tell you Dean just wasn't entertaining enough for the Hat's liking. (More shirtlessness would have pleased the Sorting Hat.) On the one hand, the Dome was unbreakable; on the other hand, the night of Dean's departure, the Dome had been open for visitors to come and go freely.

The nature of the departure was not covered on the show, either by Ari's voiceover or by Elric the Adjudicator's in-house admonishments.

What did happen openly was this: the Sorting Hat, inspired by other reality shows, decided to introduce a new housemate, one chosen for maximum drama.

It was none other than the Headmistress' secretary, Hogwarts' own resident samurai ninja king, Kojiro the enigmatic.

He moved into the room Dean used to share with Turlough — but did he sleep there? He seemed to be everywhere but his own room. Perpetually shirtless, Kojiro would sit on the living-room sofa oiling his bare and hairless chest with Johnson's Baby Oil. He would nap in others' beds while they were off doing other things during the daytime. He would also short-sheet others' beds. Perhaps someone had given Kojiro some kind of handbook on stereotypical summer-camp pranks.

It was unlikely anyone had fallen for it when Kojiro covered the toilet bowl with clingfilm.

Of course, there was never any proof Kojiro had done these things (though the cameraman quite often captured Kojiro's antics for the viewers' benefit). Except for the clear oily smudges his baby-oiled hands might leave, he had no real calling card to leave. But who else to blame? None of this stuff was happening before Dean left and Kojiro joined Hat Shore!

The time had come. Feeling obligated in his erstwhile Prefectly role, Beowulf called a House Meeting.

Everyone was invited except Kojiro, who'd taken the limo back to the school for the night. Adding insult to injury, Kojiro was allowed to leave the dome anytime he wanted.
[identity profile] ponyfectionist.livejournal.com
((Done with Derpy Dipsy-mun's permission.))

The pony-sized unicorn who appeared in the Sorting Room gasped in dismay upon seeing her new surroundings. These walls, the table, the floor... "Oh no no no no, this won't do at all!" The interior decorating was a far cry from that of her native Equestria, where the buildings were as much confectionery as they were architecture.

She trotted from one wall to the next, her anxiety increasing. "Whoever decorated in here should be put on notice! No, this is awful. Ugh, that's what they decided to go with?" The table and chair that she finally reached simply got a shudder. But there was something on the table, and she supposed that it should be examined. With any luck it would be a letter giving her free rein over redecorating this awful room and a blank check. Her horn glowed softly as she levitated the parchment over to her, skimming over it and giving a moue of disappointment as it turned out to be nothing but a questionnaire.

ExpandLook upon me, Equestria, for I AM RARITY! )


"I have read the [livejournal.com profile] hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. Rarity
I have read the [livejournal.com profile] hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. Rarity
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. Rarity
One day, marmalade will rule the world. Rarity"
[identity profile] ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com
Hat Shore party planning had ended up falling mostly into the hands of a couple of contestants, along with set designer Jherek Carnelian. These 'couple' of contestants were actually the Shoggies and Beowulf, who'd squelched and shouted their way toward transforming Hat Shore into a strange Under The Sea experience.

Expandthe lagoon )

Expandthe musical stylings of the Shoggies )

Expandrefreshments )

ExpandCAKETOWN )

Expandthe Lonely Hearts Club: speed-dating amidst the battle fog )

And so, on the night of Feb. 14th, Hat Shore's doors were opened to the whole of Hogwarts for the festivities.
[identity profile] ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com
Clearly, the residents of Hat Shore needed something to do to keep from getting restless, much like a giant hamster ball. But once the idea of shoving everybody into a giant hamster ball had been nixed, the next best thing had been arranged: a boot camp! It would get everybody out into the open air, give everyone a chance to burn off energy, and provide a good laugh to all and sundry.

Being a wise and all-knowing and general busybody of a Hat who could indeed read minds while Sorting (even if it liked talking for talking's sake), the Hat had the perfect candidate in mind to be drafted into its fun. A few consultations were made, owls were exchanged, and Yoda, former Grand Master of the Jedi Order, found himself in charge of Hat Shore's Boot Camp.

ExpandHat Shore goes to camp. Not a happy camp. )

((Yoda will be available upon request--please note so in the subject line of your reply.

In order to pick a winner, the mods request that participating contestants go to random.org and use the number generator on the front page, 1 to 100, on the subject line of each first event post for your character. We will be operating on an honor system. At 11 p.m. US Eastern time on Wednesday, February 9, the mods will be totaling up the numbers and determining the winner thusly. Any further IC interactions--races, dueling, etc.--should be handled as usual, with communication between players to determine what, if anything, they wish to happen.

Have fun with each other and the environment!))
[identity profile] ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com
So where did the Hat get a magic boombox?

And where did all this boiled goose come from? Because there are platters of boiled goose in random places around the Hat Shore house. Not just in the dining room, but also on the bathroom counter, and the coffee table, and on one of the lounge chairs poolside.

The boombox starts playing. It doesn't seem to have an off switch or batteries to remove. It won't turn off until it's gone through its entire playlist. Which consists of:

Expandthe Hat's idea of entertainment )

As long as the music is playing, the residents of Hat Shore feel inclined to dance, wear fingerless gloves, eat boiled goose, dance some more ... (Since no one is sufficiently geriatric for the nursing-home-specific effect to kick in, everyone is spared the orgies that a magic boombox could have created.)

The dancing is interpretive and creative!
[identity profile] ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com
ExpandThe contestants are led from the limos to the house ... )

The pairs were:

  • Bad Boyz 4 Lyfe: Bucky Katt and Kuronue, room 2.

  • SnarkBros: Vislor Turlough and Dean Winchester, room 7.

  • Pretty in Pink: Cathy Dollanganger and the Shoggies, room 1.

  • Team Beefcake: Beowulf Ecgtheowsson and Captain Jack Harkness, room 3.

  • Bat and Bait: The Scout and Adam Milligan, room 4.

  • Sparkle and Kimono: George St. Bartleigh and Sanada Yukimura, room 6.

  • Team Estrogen: Glorificus and Maddie Magellan, room 5.




Once the entire group of fourteen was assembled, the house-elves herded them into the Hat Shore house's dining room, where each was required to sit in a suspensor chair. A map of Arrakis hanging on the dining-room wall revealed its true purpose: it wasn't a map, it was a television screen! The desert geography dissolved into the familiar interior of Hogwarts' own Great Hall, with Ariane Emory somberly gazing into the camera, microphone in hand.

ExpandWelcome to Hat Shore. )

ExpandElric the Adjudicator lays down the laws )

Before anyone could pose a question about the rules, the Adjudicator raised a hand to ward off such foolish attempts. "Questions will not be taken at this time. Rules are not up for debate. Contestants, to your rooms! Craft supplies await you!"

And indeed they did. Tons of craft supplies had been brought to each room by the house elves while the contestants were listening to Elric. Many colors of felt, glitter and glue, ample markers and butcher paper, a bulletin board for each room, and -- the pièce de resistance -- each room had its very own Bedazzler.
[identity profile] iam-beowulf.livejournal.com
On the day of the Hufflepuff-hosted potluck, the Great Hall had been transformed to accommodate the event, courtesy of Skwisgaar, a few of his bandmates, and several other helpful volunteers from Hufflepuff -- and one Ravenclaw. Skwisgaar and Toki's adoptive dragon-son, Smaug, had assisted with arranging some of the heavier items.

(Beowulf hadn't been much help at all; he was busy worrying about missing Yule Goat gifts, and haranguing house-elves to bring him replacements so no one would go ungifted. Many copies of the Tarvunty would be given out, from the sound of it.)

The enchanted ceiling of the hall offered an unobstructed view of the evening sky: clouds painted in brilliant shades of coral and lavender, fading to pale gold toward the horizon.

Luxurious black satin tablecloths covered the rows of tables, and places were set with exquisite crystal goblets and sterling silver cutlery. Elegant candelabras were scattered across the tables, and a much greater multitude of candles had been enchanted to hang in the air like fireflies -- and not drip wax -- at such a height that only Smaug might be in peril of bumping into any. Deep crimson draperies adorned the tall windows, tied back with black cords.

Several enormous fountains featuring somewhat morbid sculptures had been placed around the hall, quietly flowing with red wine, and there was also an assortment of tall fir trees, festively decorated for the Yule holiday.

A, Skwisgaar, and Beowulf all had places of honour at the head of separate tables: the Hufflepuff prefects' chairs were draped with graceful lengths of black and gold velvet, and the Gryffindor prefect's with red and gold velvet, to set them apart from the rest.

One row of tables had been designated exclusively for food and drink, and they were differentiated by their crimson tablecloths. Per Skwisgaar's request, Berwald Oxenstierna had been hard at work all day preparing a proper Swedish smörgåsbord: there was gravlax, kroppkakor, Swedish meatballs (of course), pickled herring, a variety of tasty items for open faced sandwiches, ostkaka, waffles with a selection of toppings (jam, whipped cream, ice cream), chokladboll, and kladdkaka. A had been equally busy, preparing a roast lamb, brussels sprouts, panettone, and, also by Skwisgaar's request, homemade lingonberry jam. In addition, a small area was set up with stacks of fresh baked butter cookies, along with bowls of icing and various toppings to decorate them with, should any guests wish to.

The presence of Valentine Wolfe, who had arrived with Vladimir Harkonnen to deliver the booze ahead of time, assured that several of these items would undoubtedly be drugged, unbeknownst to any of the prefect hosts.

Outdoors, on the lawn, wood was piled high for Beowulf's festive bonfire. He had tried to transfigure it all into one gigantic Yule log, with little success; here and there, the lengths of lumber appeared to have melted into one another and recongealed into their proper consistency, but it was still just a pile of firewood for the most part. Overenthusiastic house elves had added bits of furniture to the firewood. A safe distance from the firepit, a sleigh sat mired in mud; it was filled with nothing but heaps of fur robes. When dinner was over, Beowulf would blow his golden horn and lead the revelers out to light the fire.

But first: food! and the exchanging of presents!


(( OOC note: Any item may be safe or may have been spiked by Valentine, at your wish. If spiked, the nature of the character's altered state is entirely up to the player. Since we already have a chocolate plot running thanks to the enchanted water, Valentine's spiked goodies may alter or nullify the effects that the enchanted water may have induced. as the player sees fit. Or it may leave those effects in place and simply add another simultaneous effect. The more, the merrier.

One more thing: If your characters become inclined toward NSFW action, please split it into a separate post rather than RPing the NSFWness in the party post. Ditto for anything triggery -- anything that you'd normally put a warning on. Putting it in a separate post as a closed RP means you can put the appropriate warning right on the label, with a nice LJ-cut for everyone's protection. ))
[identity profile] best-guitarist.livejournal.com
((A chance to show off your character's culinary skills or lack thereof; their dish can be prepared by house elves if it suits.))

Flyers had begun appearing all across the school, elegantly lettered in gold ink on glossy black cardstock. Various designs in dark crimson bordered it that wouldn't have looked out of place as death metal album art. Several of these flyers were also personally addressed and delivered by house-elves to A and Skwisgaar's closer acquaintances, as well to as everyone who was assisting with the planning, and to everyone who had signed up for the Yule Goat gift exchange.

The flyers read:

You are cordially invited to attend a school-wide potluck and Yule celebration hosted by Hufflepuff's prefects, A and Skwisgaar Skwigelf, on the evening of the winter solstice in the Great Hall of Hogwarts Castle.

Yule Goats are especially exhorted to attend by Gryffindor prefect and Yule Goat coordinator Beowulf Ecgtheowsson, so that they may to exchange their gifts and reveal their identities in a festive atmosphere of celebration.

Food and drink will be provided, however it is asked that you prepare a traditional meal from your homeland or simply your favourite dish* to share. This is not mandatory for attendance. All are welcome!

Fellow prefects are encouraged to wear their official prefect hats so that others might recognise them. After the main meal, all beings are invited to join Beowulf at a bonfire on the lawn for mead and marshmallows. Fur robes will be furnished to all who visit the bonfire.

*Bring live animals/beings and you risk their confiscation by monster-loving Geats. If you are responsible for too much disruption you will be forcefully removed.



At the very bottom in fine print was a watertight legal disclaimer, courtesy of Dethklok's CFO and lawyer, absolving Hufflepuff's prefects and their associates of all liability in the event of any injuries, transformations, or deaths—magical or mundane—as the result of attendance.
[identity profile] iam-beowulf.livejournal.com
To every person whose name had been added to the Yule Goat sign-up list, Beowulf sent a message via owl. Beowulf did not know or care whether they had signed themselves up or whether someone else had thoughtfully/mischievously added the name for them.

The message was a form letter, cranked out by Dictaquills, thus sparing the world Beowulf's straggling, runic-influenced attempts at writing in the Anglo-Latinate alphabet. However, the Dictaquills took Beowulf's habitual shouting as intentional.

HWÆT!

TO THE WIZARD OR WITCH BEARING THE NAME OF ___________________

YOU ARE A YULE GOAT AND WILL BRING A GIFT OF YOUR CHOOSING TO THE WIZARD OR WITCH WHO BEARS THE NAME OF __________________________

BRING IT TO THE CELEBRATION OF THE WINTER SOLSTICE ON THE HOGWARTS LAWN ON THE 21ST DAY OF THE MONTH NOW CALLED DECEMBER

THERE WILL BE A BONFIRE AND MANY DRINKS OF ALL KINDS

CHILDREN AND ANIMALS WILL BE PRESENT THEREFORE DO NOT DRESS LIKE A MILF OR YOU WILL BE GIVEN A FUR ROBE TO COVER YOURSELF. THE FUR WILL NOT SMELL NICE.

BEOWULF


Then he filled in all the names, again via Dictaquill. It took a long time and at the end he needed to relax with a hornful of mead, and with a warm poultice to soothe his brow.

Being a secretary was hard work!
[identity profile] righteous-pen.livejournal.com
It was the first thing Teru had done in - too long. Months. He'd told himself that nothing was wrong, that in a school full of demonic psychopaths it was only sensible to keep to himself. But that wasn't why he isolated himself, and he knew it.

Humans shouldn't know the day they'll die. He'd let himself despair over it, let himself stagnate, become one of the very things he'd wanted to see the world cleansed of. And there was only one thing to do.

So, he went to the popcorn room, dressed in the clothes he'd worn the day he arrived, Masuyo in his arms. He set her down on the floor, gently, stroking behind her ears. She mewed up at him, worried.

"It's all right," he murmured. "I won't be gone long. And if I'm not back soon the elves will take you to A or Yukimura and give them the letter I wrote, and they'll take good care of you, a-and I'll always -"

Pop.

Five minutes later, by Hogwarts' standards, Teru reappeared, lying in a pool of butter, his suit now replaced by a grey prison uniform. For a few moments he lay motionless, as Masuyo watched anxiously from under a popcorn case - then sat up abruptly, gasping for air.

Memories flooded back into him. This was - he'd been here so long, years, seen it all before it happened and forgotten, had to live it and forget again...

...but it was over now, he told himself, clutching at butter-drenched hair. All over. Near couldn't have him any more.
[identity profile] iam-beowulf.livejournal.com
Beowulf loved the Secret Santa exchange. He had loved it ever since Pippi Longstocking gave him the gift of rainbow-striped scarf, hat, and matching gloves, which he wore every year at Yule thereafter.

The concept of Santa, however, had very little to do with the holiday cheer Beowulf knew best. This year, he decided, as Gryffindor Prefect he would take matters into his own hands.

Posters went up everywhere, dictated by Beowulf to about twenty Dictaquills writing on twenty different sheets of parchment at once, and subsequently tacked up by house elves in all the usual places.



HWÆT! Yule tide does approach!

We call upon you to give gifts to one another, in the manner of a Yule Goat. If you do this, a Yule Goat will also give a gift unto you! If you fail to honor your pledge of gift-giving, a Yule Goat will disapprove!

Note the name by which you are called, if you wish to take part in this jolly exchange!

You have until the 10th day of December to make your pledge. On the 11th day of December, you will be told the name of the Hogwartsman whose Yule Goat you will be!




((OOC note!: Wishbone's player has kindly passed the torch to Beowulf this year. Beowulf will be organizing the Secret Santa exchange along the same lines as Wishbone's exchange last year.

Like last year, characters can ICly sign up other characters if the mun has OOC approval from the other character's player. Just note the permission OOCly in your comment.

Either let me know what e-mail address I should associate with that character's player, or what LJ account I should PM, once Beowulf has made all the assignments. ICly the character will receive an owl from Beowulf giving them their assignment, which is how the characters who didn't sign themselves up will find out they are obligated! OOCly, I'll either e-mail or PM each player.))
[identity profile] livingaustria.livejournal.com
So Austria kinda got distracted by books. Lots of books. Meaning he hardly left the library for two weeks.

Meaning he was only just catching up on his news, after a shower and a proper meal of course.

Looking for the country's oldest murderess: well, maybe if they had examined her right last time, she'd still be in prison.

Delaying a loan to bail out Greece: well, if he'd stop daydreaming and playing with his cats maybe he wouldn't need to be bailed out.

The far right (read: anti-immigrant) party is popular, even among the younger voters. Austria sighed. When it comes to immigration, no country won.

What's this? Austria's first Formula One constructor's team, Red Bull Renault, has won its first Constructor's Championship? How on earth did he miss this?

While Austria was not prone to loud displays of joy, he couldn't keep the grin off his face.

[[Yes, this whole post was for that F1 part. I...kinda forgot I played Austria and that Red Bull is technically an Austrian team, okay?!]]
[identity profile] chief-michael.livejournal.com

Just five more minutes. He had five more minutes before his shift was over and he’d be able to retreat to his quarters with a hot pizza and 4 or 5 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Things were finally going his way.. which had him worried. Because when things went his way, it meant that something was gonna go wrong, something always went horribly, catastrophically wrong. It was just the way the universe ran. Something going right? Time to screw with Garibaldi.

He stepped through the doors, intent on making one last sweep through Brown Sector before calling it a night. His boot caught on a rock and sent him sprawling.

See? Things were already going awry. And what the hell was a rock doing on a space station?

ExpandThis is gonna get weird, isn't it? )

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