[identity profile] codex-of-good.livejournal.com
Codex sat outside, for safety's sake. She was learning a new spell. So, yeah, safety was needed.

According to the books she'd read, the spell was supposed to make a bunch of birds fly out of her wand. Which was kind of useless, but pretty cool. She wondered what kind of birds they'd be. Something cute and harmless, she hoped. Like sparrows. Or parakeets.

"Avis," she said, waving the wand like she'd read she was supposed to. Or she thought she'd said "Avis." She'd had a cold recently and her nose was still a little stuffed up, and--

"Oh god! Bees!" she squawked as a swarm of buzzing horrors were let loose from her wand instead of harmless birds. "Not the bees! Not--Incendio!"

Oh, the beemanity! It was a really good thing she was good at that fire spell thingy now, because she didn't think she was up for running all zig-zag-y to the lake and jumping in. With the squid. Ugh. Squid.

She panted, wide-eyed in shock, and eyed the crisped cinders of the dead bees at her feet. "So... maybe that could have gone better."
[identity profile] scribe-counter.livejournal.com
((Veronica is taken from after the Independent ending, companion quest finished on the Causeless Rebel path, and the Dead Money DLC completed. Potential spoilers accordingly. I haven't RPed here in ages, please tell me if I'm botching something))

The woman entering the Sorting Room in what looked like a brown potato sack with a hood on top might be mistaken for a monk – that is, if you didn't take into account the mechanical gauntlet on her right hand that would hurt at high velocity. With a tired sigh, she lowered her rucksack from her shoulder and turned to the application.

A fresh start. From what she'd managed to pick up after arriving in a place that was unexpectedly metropolitan beyond even the preserved grandeur of New Vegas, her travels had shunted her into another version of the Old World. There was a lot of science involved, and at this point she wasn't ruling out magic. Her knowledge of technology might not be as helpful here, but at least the Brotherhood of Steel wouldn't be after her for giving it out.

'Tell me about yourself'? My favorite subject! )

“Well, hope you'll take a chance on a naïve young girl from postapocalyptic Nevada with stars in her eyes and a pneumatic gauntlet on her hand."

"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. _____VS_______
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. _____VS______.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. _____VS______.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. _____VS (Ooh, like an irradiated jar from the Old World gone horribly wrong? Check the safety seals, people!)________"
[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?"

That 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] 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.

Read 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] nolongerprimal.livejournal.com
why am I doing this?

[[Taken post-credits. Yes. He does speak in capslock.]]

There was a bright blue flash of light. It would be hard to get close to it, the closer one got, the more it felt like time was bending, for lack of a better word.

Eventually the light dimmed. A blue and silver dragon stood in the Sorting Room. His red eyes looked around.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" Dialga said. "WHY HAVE I BEEN TAKEN FROM TEMPORAL TOWER?" He fired a Hyper Beam at the nearest wall, but it did nothing to answer his questions.

The poking at the fleshy part of his flesh did, though.


Oh crud, I just realized Beowulf will want to do something with him. )

"I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. __DIALGA__________
I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. ____DIALGA_______.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. __DIALGA_________.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. _WHAT IS THIS MARMALADE?____________"
[identity profile] grandmasteryoda.livejournal.com
Cards from Codex to:

Francium. )

Dieter. )

Igor. )

Nemo. )

Marcus. )

Sakon and Ukon. )




Gifts and such from Megan:

Igor! )

Sage and Rat! )

Maddie! )

Dean! )

Rose! )




Valentine's presents:

Baron Harkonnen. )

Jasper. )

Dethklok. )

Professor Homsar. )




Not-presents from Lee:

Methos. )

Raistlin. )

Castiel. )




Something confused from Sokka:

Ty Lee? )

Kurama and... Mr. Kurama? )




From Aayla, there are a bowl of fortune cookies under a tiny Christmas tree in the Gryffindor common room, with "Merry Christmas - From Aayla Secura" on the bowl. The fortune cookies are not cursed, drugged, or in any way tampered with--they just have happy messages inside.




From Santa Yoda:

To R2-D2 and C-3P0: )

To Rat: )

To Tenel Ka: )

To Coraline: )

To Toki and the Shoggies: )

To Dieter: )

((And because I think it's hilarious, the voices of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda from Star Wars: The Clone Wars did their own version of 'Twas The Night Before Christmas this year. Obi-Wan, Cad Bane, and Ziro doing How The Grinch Stole Christmas last year was pretty fun, too!))
[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] serrulata.livejournal.com
He's never been very good at taking advice. Even from the people he'd grown close to, even from Kusuriyuri, he's just never been able to take someone else giving him pointers, no matter how necessary, on how he might make his life a little bit easier.

But he recognized the necessity, and decided to supplement good advice with doing something he sucked at even more.

The road just rolled out behind him, that was all. )


((OOC: Hecklers and cheerleaders would be most welcome.))
[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] finbarwrong.livejournal.com
((OOC: With permission from China mun - me.))

A man with long greasy black hair found himself in the Sorting Room. The great doors were closed behind him, and some feet away a lone desk with stationary upon it rested, undisturbed. He took measured steps forward, as if assessing the firmness of the stone, should the flagstones disappear from under his shit-kickers. The man wasn't edgy or confused; he seemed at one, content and relaxed with his given situation. He had coloured tattoos up and down his bare arms, all melting into one another. He wore a band shirt which not only had undergone some savagery (no longer sleeved and frayed) was terribly loose on his willowy frame. He sported a collection of black bands around his wrist, ranging in thickness and spiked or not spiked styles, one even holding a shiny silver skull. Even before he seated himself, there was an inner awareness that the quill would act upon his spoken word, be it because he was a Sensitive .. or merely because he took the time to read the note beside it.

Allow me to elucidate ... )

"I have read the
[info]hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. Finbar.
I have read the
[info]hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. Finbar.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. Finbar.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. Finbar."
[identity profile] thefuturemrpond.livejournal.com
((ooc: Approved by fellow Who muns.))

Rory had thought he was getting used to things like this. All right, maybe not 'used to'. More used to. Less likely to stand around boggling in the face of alien weirdness. But, that was what he was doing - staring, wide-eyed, at what had been the TARDIS a few seconds ago and now...

Well, the room looked medieval, lots of stone and drapery. Like something on Earth, but then he didn't know what alien architecture was like. And - he hadn't heard birdsong. Or anything, really. Definitely not that vworping noise. He'd just blinked, and been here.

"Amy? Doctor?" No answer. He tried again, a little louder - "Amy?" - and this time there was a panicky wobble in his voice that hadn't been there before, so he stopped shouting for a bit. They'd find him, right? He must have been teleported here somehow, and he'd bet the Doctor had something that could trace him among all those mysterious buttons and knobs on the TARDIS controls. They'd be along any minute.

That was when he noticed the pen. It was a quill pen, exactly like you'd expect to find in a medieval castle, except it was floating above a table. And seemed to have just been writing something. Rory went over for a closer look.

His eyes widened even further. "...right," he muttered, after a few bewildered seconds looking down at the paper, which said Amy? Doctor? Amy? and then a list of questions underneath that. At least this gave him something to do. And by the time he finished they'd be here to explain things, surely? Or somebody would...

Spoilers up to Amy's Choice. )

"I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. ____Rory Williams____
I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. ___Rory Williams___.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. __Rory Williams___.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. ___Rory Williams___"
[identity profile] ukon-sakon.livejournal.com
Tachibana Sakon is a bunraku puppeteer. Ukon is a bunraku puppet made in the 1870 (the series is set in the late 1990s). As Sakon is shy enough to be practically mute without Ukon and Ukon is a puppet, they are together. Sakon is also a master ventriloquist. His mouth doesn't move when Ukon talks and their voices are different. He can also mimic voices he's heard, though he tends not to very often as he feels that mimicing voices is something similar to channeling. Ukon can be touched, but permission would be needed, either IC or OOC to actually remove him from Sakon's control. For Sakon's sanity, though, Ukon shall have to be indestructible as his version of the 'no kill' spell (or, in other words...I'm fine with curious poking, asking to take the puppet, but no taking apart the puppet).

One of the joys of being a performer was being able to travel. Sakon enjoyed being a street performer, enjoyed the more formal stage performing, even enjoyed the practice for performing. He loved puppetry, loved learning more of it, exploring more. He was going to a museum in Hokkaido, a long way from his home, to learn more about the art of puppet making and repair. While his family did have ties to a school of puppet makers, it was still a good idea for him to know as much as he could about as many different techniques as he could. And, he enjoyed the opportunity to travel. The journey also coincided with the autumn festivals, giving him a chance to perform as well.

He was dressed for travel, as well—a long, brown trench coat with and elbow length cape over the shoulders to keep out the cold, his sneakers on his feet, comfortable for walking and standing in, black pants, a black, long-sleeved shirt and the sleeve covers that kept his sleeves out of the way of his puppetry, and a gear-like collar. On his back, the green wooden case that held Ukon and in one hand, the suitcase that held clothes for him. He traveled light, his family only providing enough for the train fare up. It was up to him to earn the fare back and to cover a place to stay—a task he'd yet to fail in.

When he arrived at the gates of the castle, he thought it a little strange. He couldn't remember any building like the one before him in Japan, but he also knew that western style archetecture wasn't completely unheard of. The grounds looked different, too, but it was his first trip to Hokkaido, so he wasn't entirely sure what to expect. As the gates were open, he started to proceed, only to pause. He brought the case on his back forward and Ukon burst out of it.

"What is this, Sakon? This doesn't look like a museum!" the puppet declared, looking around, even over Sakon's shoulder.

"I'm not sure, Ukon. This is where the train and the map led us," the boy replied, his voice much gentler, quieter than his puppet's.

"Are you sure you read it right?" Ukon demanded.

Sakon chuckled, handing over the map. While Ukon examined the map, Sakon adjusted the case on his back and picked up his suitcase and started toward the castle again.

"Oi, Sakon, that lake is on the wrong side," Ukon said as they approached the doors to the castle.

Looking over at the map the puppet held, Sakon considered a moment then turned it around. "No, it's not," he said, raising his hand to knock on the door. It opened before him, though, before he made contact.

"This place gives me the creeps," Ukon complained.

"Hush, Ukon. We were invited," Sakon replied, though a shadow of doubt flickered over his features.

They remained in the door, though, a portrait of contrast. Sakon, with his dark clothing, dark hair, fair skin and violet eyes, still, only his eyes moving as he looked around the strange room. Ukon, a child's puppet, a masterpiece of work, with bright red hair, blue eyes and a yellow haori over a white kimono, a blue collar showing at his neck, a square sash around his neck with white medallions on it, looking around avidly, his neck craning, trying to take in everything.

"Well, I guess we're here," Ukon declared, his hands coming up behind his head. "Might as well see what this place is about, Sakon."

Sakon walked in, turning when the door closed behind him. "It seems we have little choice," he mumbled.

"What?" Ukon demanded, his eyes wide as he stared at the door.

"Nothing, don't worry about it," Sakon said, turning back to the room. As there was nowhere to remove his shoes, he left them on, walking over to a table in the center of the room. He picked up one of the pieces of paper on it, handing it over when Ukon demanded to see it.

What is the meaning of this? )
[identity profile] damien-thorn.livejournal.com
There were things that even the Prince of Darkness could learn from a textbook, and Damien Thorn could often be found in the library with a few good books. At first his studies were out of mere curiosity, as he explored these magical powers that did not bend to his will. Then by pure chance the Daggers of Megiddo had landed in his lap, and Damien had turned to the library to find the perfect way to hide the tools of his destruction. With the Daggers safely hidden, he could focus on on more entertaining pastimes.

There was a spells that caused wounds that couldn't be healed by magic. How interesting. He flipped the page. Damien had skipped the Unforgivable Curses altogether, since he could perform those with a single thought. Now he was reading about the Dark Arts in general, and what separated magic from its darker side.
[identity profile] amandagraystone.livejournal.com
((WARNING: spoilers for all existing episodes of Caprica))

Land on your feet, in a crouch. Amazed. Hands outflung as if in flight. Fold your arms, unfold them, stretch one out before you and study your hand in amazement. Same scarred wrist. Run a finger over the keloid ridge. Reach up to feel your face. The back of your head. Fingers clenching in your own hair. Think you ought to have a headache. Experimental pull. Yeah. It hurts to pull your hair. You have sensation. Full range?

You are embodied and aware.

You always knew who you were and now, in a blink, you suspect where it is you've jumped. Before you even look around.


They say that surviving is the punishment for leaving things left unsaid. )


ooc disclaimer: I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. AG
I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. AG
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. AG
One day, marmalade will rule the world. AG
[identity profile] future-tinman.livejournal.com
He knew he had to open his eyes, and he didn't want to.

Wasn't the point of dying that you got to close your eyes for good? "I'll sleep when I'm dead" and all that? Except that he'd been dead twice now, and it wasn't turning out to be the restful experience he'd thought it would be. The last time he'd woken up from eternal slumber had been a nightmare.

You are an infiltration prototype. )

"I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. ___MW_________
I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. __MW_________.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. __MW_________.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. ___MW__________"
[identity profile] nerdsexgoddess.livejournal.com
((Backdated to sometime during the holidays. I'd have put this up sooner except, well, I've been busy.))
Given how well it had worked last year, Amaranth decided that spreading holiday saliva was a tradition that should continue for as long as possible.

Thus it was that, with the assistance of house elves, she made sure mistletoe was hanging above every frequently (and not so frequently) used door in the school. The mistletoe would be charmed to remain levitated over the school for a few days, which was certainly long enough, in Amaranth's view, for gratuitous snogging to commence.

Satisfied with her work, the nymph bounced gaily down the halls, eager to assist anyone should they find themselves in need of a makeout partner.
[identity profile] codex-of-good.livejournal.com
She had not left her house in a week.

This was not entirely unusual--mild agoraphobia was just one of the reasons she had gone to a therapist for years. Until the break-up. How many people had their therapists break up with them? It wasn't good for self esteem. And while Codex had been doing so much better lately (she had hosted a party however unintentionally and actually gone out in the sun recently!) the stress of recent events had made her a bit twitchy.

More than a bit. She was pretty sure she had been on the edge of a psychotic breakdown. The events of the big LAN party versus those d-bags the Axis of Anarchy had really driven that point home.

So when, for the first time in a week, she opened the door to the apartment that she was back to sharing with Zaboo, it somehow made perfect sense that she stepped into a room that looked right out of the keeps of the end-game dungeons.

"Oh god," she said in a small voice. "She was right. I've snapped."

I can do this. I can do this. OH GOD PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME DO THIS. )

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

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