[identity profile] needsanewliver.livejournal.com
From Nathan to Charles:

((Permission was given to 'vandalise' Ofdensen's room.))

Valentine's Day morning, Ofdensen would find his room looking—and smelling—like the scene of a massacre. Blood splattered the walls, the furniture, and whatever had been left out on his desk (any paperwork would appear to be saturated); the blood was still wet and some of it slowly dripping, the puddles growing. Assorted viscera had been festively hung across lamps and the privacy screen in front of his bed, and some lined the window sills.

Read more... )


From Pickles to Dethklok and Ofdensen:

He'd prepared enough blood and guts martinis to share, so went around the school hand-delivering them to each of his bandmates (the ones he could locate, anyway) and their manager. No holiday was complete without booze, especially not one as gay as Valentine's Day.


From Glorfindel to Elrond:

Based on the advertisements around Hogsmeade, Glorfindel had reached the conclusion that Valentine's Day was intended as some sort of romantic love festival, a day on which to spoil the one you love. He didn't normally celebrate other cultures' holidays, but was happy to make an exception for this one, just as he had for Yule.

Read more... )
[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] 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] vaultofstars.livejournal.com
For many months, Elrond had been undertaking a gradual project along a quiet bend of the lake. He'd started in the spring, and worked through the summer days, and on into the autumn. And now, as the green had faded from much of the forest and a chill had touched the air, his work was complete. He stood upon the lakeside to survey it in its completion- a small Elven ship, crafted in the style which Círdan the Shipwright had trained his father. It was not so large as a vessel intended for seagoing purposes, being small enough for a lone sailor to handle the square-rigged sail, but the light, open hull was spacious enough to seat several individuals, if not a crowd. It was crafted to sit high upon the waters, and skillfully shaped for stability despite its shallow keel, intended to move through the shallower parts of the lake as easily as its deeper reaches. In cast, it vaguely resembled a small viking craft, but, its elegant, deceptively delicate-looking construction assured that this similarity was merely superficial.

Read more... )
[identity profile] serrulata.livejournal.com
Signs appeared on the greenhouse doors.


Forgot to get flowers for your special someone(s)?

Speak to Prof. K for unique arrangements.


((Feel free to make up your own flower sets, including imaginary plants. The sky is the limit, and beyond. Be careful, though. Non-specific requests could bring more trouble than they're worth.))

[identity profile] prettypendulum.livejournal.com
((OOC: As stated in the reminder post, feel free to RP in this or start your own threads. Some of the poems wander into questionable for work anyway, so we'll just call the whole post not quite work safe and feel free to take things as far as you'd like in here or into your own threads if you want. Yukimura-mun, Kuronue-mun, and Kurama-mun all had a hand in the poetry and if you really want to know, PM one of us and we can tell you who wrote what. Otherwise, the whole point of this is to laugh....which means, really, you shouldn't have things in your mouth when reading the poems. :D If you want a reminder of who asked for what, it's here. ))

Decorations appeared, pink and frilly with an occasional burst of red and tiger-y for the myriad of students who would be celebrating the Lunar New Year. Normally, they would not have bothered with the New Year, but it fell on the same day, so the decorations came across as incidental rather than deliberate. Streamers and unpopable bubbles floated around the Great Hall and those elves tapped to deliver messages. Enthusiasm was something they all possessed in abundance; talent, not so much. Just who had set them up for this or why remained a mystery they would not divulge. Each recipient was found and serenaded, with no respect to any form of musicality, wherever they happened to be at the time.

Tra-la-la-la-la/A valentine for you/Tra-la-la-la-la/Have a cut tag here, too )
[identity profile] vaultofstars.livejournal.com
Elrond had recently seen an extremely strange sight in the Forbidden Forest. A sight both strange, and deeply unsettling, and certainly not the sort of thing that an innocent person taking a stroll in the woods should have to come upon. Two men- well, a man and a creature that looked similar to a man with wings- had been engaging in unspeakable sexual acts, right out in the open. Being an Elf, Elrond considered the forest to be a very public sort of place.

Read more... )
[identity profile] elegantsamurai.livejournal.com
Yukimura was outside, within the fringes of the Forbidden Forest. In his mind, a battle was raging. He danced around the trunks of the trees, his sword flashing against unseen enemies, stopping mere centimeters from trunks and vines, slicing leaves as they fell to the ground. The trees made the shadow-fighting that much more difficult and fulfilling an exercise.

The fighting also provided a time when he could focus his mind, clear his thoughts. He still wasn't entirely sure why he let Kurama see so much, other than part of him desired something concrete. He had no desire to 'trap' anyone and wouldn't say anything directly, not to either of them, but that didn't stop him from wanting to know what they thought.

He paused a moment, his thoughts disturbing the flow of his practice. He sighed, sheathing the sword, crossing to where he'd left his bow and arrows.

((OOC: Yeah...ummm...NSFW ;) ))
[identity profile] tallyhopippip.livejournal.com
[[And maybe Elrond.]]

[[Takes place roughly three to five days after this]]

Pain.

Indescribable pain.

Pain that is very hard to describe.

That was what George had been feeling for the past few days, on and off. Whatever had knocked him out could only knock it out so much. He remained huddled god-knows-where in a ball, whimpering and crying out for someone, anyone.

Then suddenly the pain stopped.

George held his breath. It stopped? Just like that? He must be better! Not noticing that he didn't really need to breathe, he opened his now-red eyes to see an elf there.

"Oh, hello."
[identity profile] bar-en-lothglor.livejournal.com
((Continued from here.))

George was carried as quickly as Glorfindel could manage up to the room the Elf-Lord shared with Elrond in Gryffindor. The Elves' respective routines at Hogwarts were somewhat different from what they'd been in Imladris, and he had made a point of familiarising himself with Elrond's so that he would know where to find him at any given hour, which served him well now. Glorfindel dearly hoped today would not be the day his friend decided to break habit, and that he would be in their room when he got there—if anyone at Hogwarts stood a chance at healing George's terrible wound, it would be Elrond. )
[identity profile] mirror-noldor.livejournal.com

Whatever forces or magic moved the mysterious popcorn room seemed to be quite active lately. There was another shifting among the kernels and another resounding *bang* as a former student of Hogwarts appeared in a hail of butter and salt. A statuesque woman of etherial beauty stood in the middle of the hallway. Galadriel, the Lady of Lorien had returned. 

She had marched with the Noldor in their flight from the Valinor. She was no stranger to combat, cold or other hardships that had been visited upon the her kin in their travels across Middle Earth. However, she was quite confused to find herself standing in the middle of a castle hallway, her pale silver gown and long silver blonde hair streaked with some strange oily substance. Experimentally, she raised her hand, tasting a bit of the greasy substance on her finger. It was butter. Why did she have butter all over her?

 Galadriel cast a glance about the corridor, she could detect no immediate threat and Nenya lay cool against her hand. Still dizzy from the process of unpopping and millenia of memories rushing back, Galadriel found the nearest chair and eased herself into it. In a true testament to her kin, she managed to look regal, despite her rather greasy appearance.

 


[identity profile] ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com
Starter Debate Questions:

1) How will you make your House a better place?
2) Are you experienced? Have you ever been experienced?
3) Teamwork is important. How do you get along with the members of your House?
4) If you were to get your ass kicked, who would you want to do it and why?
5) Who is your hero and why?
6) Where my lasers at?


Rules for the Debate:

A. Any persons currently nominated for Prefect may choose to answer or not answer any questions asked.

B. Any Hogwarts student or staff member, including those running for Prefect, may pose additional questions to any or all nominees. If you would like to ask nominees questions, please ask them now ((OOCly: post them in a comment or comments to this post. Be sure to indicate in your subject line that your comment contains questions, and if they are directed to specific candidates, please indicate that, as well.)) Keep in mind that nominees are not required to answer any questions. Voters may choose to take failure to answer any way they would like.

C. Question answering begins immediately, and lasts until the time the Polls go up, which will be approximately 8:00 p.m. Monday, August 24, 2009. ((OOCly that's 8 pm Eastern Daylight Time. ICly it wouldn't make any sense to specify a time zone since they're all at Hogwarts XD ))
[identity profile] pixie-jenks.livejournal.com

There was a shifting among the giant kernels of popcorn. A single large kernel appeared in the corridor and popped with a rather loud bang. Instead of a normal-sized human, a pixie about the size of a large dragonfly appeared out of the resulting mess. A very handsome, but grumbling and butter-sodden pixie.

 “Tink’s undies, where in the Turn am I now?” he muttered, wiping the butter out of his blonde hair and the grains of salt off his tunic. Jenks stood up and regarded his wings. “Oh gross, it’s gonna take forever to clean those off!” he moaned."Rachel if this is your idea of a joke, I will pix you for a week!"

 Satisfied that he had shaken off enough of the oily residue to take off, Jenks zipped about the corridor, his wings clattering loudly and leaving a trail of brightly colored dust in his wake, a sure sign of his annoyance. When he had cleared his nose of the overpowering smell of butter, Jenks sniffed the air. He knew this place!

 Right, right. The magical school in.. whereverhewas. He pulled  a tiny bandana with the crest “Gryffindor” embroidered on it out of his belt and mopped his face off. He didn’t smell fairies, which was good, but he did smell all manner of strange creature. The magic felt off somehow, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

 Wait.. did he smell elves?

[identity profile] nerdsexgoddess.livejournal.com
Very early on Friday morning, a team of house elves had begun construction of a large and gaudy pavilion, located just outside the window of the groundskeeper's hut. There was a lot of noise going on during this construction, which probably woke anyone currently sleeping in said gamekeeper hut.

Once the pavilion had been constructed, Amaranth swooped in to do some decorating. Soon, several picnic tables, all covered with plastic tablecloths, had been put into place. One table was designated for any food, and another would hold any gifts people would bring to the Turlough-Hagrid wedding reception.

The pavillion was large enough to give people room to move around--even to dance, if they should so choose. A karaoke machine had been set up in one corner, powered by magic. The food table contained a massive, three-layer wedding cake featuring likenesses of Turlough and Hagrid made out of chocolate, for those who had always hoped for an opportunity to bite off either of the grooms' heads, literally. One of the guests, Miranda binewski, had also brought scones, and there were, of course, other perennial wedding reception foods, such as homemade mints, a bowl of macadamia nuts, and both a relish and meat tray. Champagne had been provided for anyone who wished to imbibe. For the tetotalers, the house elves had made several pitchers of Crystal Lite. As with most large events at Hogwarts where food was offered, most of it was enchanted, though Amaranth had not realized this when she commissioned the food order from the house elves.

Amaranth looked around the gaily decorated pavillion and clapped her hands happily. True, Turlough and Hagrid hadn't wanted this marriage, but she was happy to help them celebrate in the best way she knew how.


((The scones were approved by Miranda mun in chat. As with all chocolate plots, the effects of the enchantments will vary according to what you want them to do, so have fun and be cracky. This RP is open to everyone, even if you don't know the characters in question, so feel free to have your character drop in without worrying about a pretext for them to do so.))
[identity profile] bar-en-lothglor.livejournal.com
Glorfindel left the Sorting Room to get cleaned up following his unsettling encounter with Gríma. His injuries were such that all he could do was wash his hands, carefully wrap each of his still bleeding, burnt fingers with fresh bandages, and hope for the best. Though he was an Elf, a race highly resistant to illness, Saruman's petty retribution had been anything but natural and Glorfindel was already beginning to feel the other, less obvious aftereffects of it.

He was looking slightly drawn when he made his way back to the Sorting Room to check on Elrond's Sorting. The long riding cloak he wore concealed his hands for the moment, and Asfaloth would follow of his own accord, so Elrond hopefully wouldn't notice or have to worry about the injuries just yet. It was merely by a stroke of ill-luck that he'd managed to get injured in the few minutes he was out of Elrond's sight, and he didn't want his friend to somehow blame himself, as seemed likely given his recent mood and their prior conversation about the sad fate of Celebrían.

Once the Hat announced its verdict and his friend was free to leave, Glorfindel returned to Elrond's side, smiling and offering his arm. "Will you walk with me, híren?" he asked, the formality of his tone meant to be teasing. "Though these titles apparently hold little significance, I am pleased we're now of the same House in this place."
[identity profile] vaultofstars.livejournal.com
((Elrond apped with permission by the other LotR muns. He's got pretty mad powers, but, they're of a subtle nature. He's somewhere below Glorfindel in power, but above the average elf, and has one of the Three Rings of the Elves, Vilya, the Ring of Air. What Vilya specifically does isn't mentioned anywhere I'm aware of, but, it seems reasonable to presume that it aids in healing/magic as a sort of amplifier. I don't recall a mention of Elrond owning a specific Elven sword, but, he's Lord of Imladris, so I think it can be presumed he's got one.))
 
An elegantly-featured man, or at least what appeared to be with a passing glance, observed the Sorting Room with somber grey eyes, wondering just where he was. Any who spared him more than a passing glance would quickly note that the man's features were too refined and and inhuman, and his ears too pointed- there was something human to him, but, it was very understated after any lengthy look at the man- for he was Peredhel, Half-Elven. His dress was that of the Elven folk, a somber robe and cape in soft shades of grey, and he wore a runed sword at his side, and a silver circlet on his brow. On his hand he wore a band of gold set with a large blue gem.
 
Elrond had found himself in an entirely unknown place. This was not what was supposed to be here. He didn't remember this room from any of the halls of Imladris, which he knew so well, being the master of the Last Homely House, and having dwelt there for thousands of years. He had found himself filled with dire worries and misgivings about a situation that was pivotal to the future of the world, at least, that of his own. Would the nine walkers even make it to Gondor? Four of them were lucky to have made it to Rivendell, and that was only because Aragorn stepped in. And Aragorn. . . the ranger had filled him with a deeper, more personally worry. Even if their quest succeeded, what would this mean for Arwen? He had spent most of a night awake worrying about these matters. Eventually, it reached the point where he thought that perhaps a friend's sage advice could prove a beneficial thing to seek- the last thing he recalled was setting out to find his herald and close friend.
 
Read more... )

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

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