hh_mirror | Entries tagged with keenan caine

weaponized-love.livejournal.com

( Owl to all Pilots and Anchors )

((OOC: The objectives for each pilot are therefore:
- Form ANIMa
-- Set wards (Failure will harm a random Non-pilot character with a Relationship to that Pilot. This means something in Bliss Stage terms, but screw that; it's just an excuse for the mods and muns to be Cruel.)
--- Destroy ~~Bliss Generators~~ Flower... music... things. (Muns, at your option, if someone fails, have someone close to them Bliss Out... temporarily, for teh dramaz.)
---- Scan sun (only one pilot needs to succeed at this.)
----- ?????
------ PROFIT!

PILOTS! ANCHORS! TO YOUR STATIONS! Last chance to join the Corps!

And o rite, others can't participate in the mission, but, you know, feel free to comment on how lulzy it is.))

Current Mood: Lol whut Bliss Stage game

iam-beowulf.livejournal.com

TO BRIENNE OF TARTH:

GREETINGS, WARRIOR MAIDEN. YOUR FELLOW PREFECT, I WHO AM BEOWULF, SALUTE YOU. HARD TIMES HAVE FALLEN UPON THIS SCHOOL. 'TIS PREY TO A FELL MONSTER.

GRYFFINDORS ARE CALLED TO ACTION! WE MUST MOBILIZE OUR FORCES, SUCH AS THEY ARE. I AM GOADED IN MY DUTY, YEA, THOUGH I FEAR FOR MY BELOVED PYARAY, MY BELOVED TAKO, AND MY BELOVED SACK JOE. SACK JOE MOST OF ALL, FOR HE IS TENDER OF SKIN AND FEARFUL OF HEART.

THIS BOY KEENAN CAINE INVOKES US IN OUR PREFECTLY MIGHT. COME TO MEET ME IN THE PLACE OF EXERCISE EQUIPMENT AND OCCASIONAL CRUMPETS.

BEOWULF

To random Gryffindors, whomever the house elves can find:

YOUR PREFECTS SUMMON YOU TO BATTLE AGAINST THE BABY SUN! MEET IN THE COMMON ROOM! I AM BEOWULF!

He just had to add the tagline in there.

Later, he directed a house elf to make an addition:

There will be Kool-Aid. Orange flavor, red flavor, green flavor. It's here to kill your monster.

weaponized-love.livejournal.com

( Private Military Communique )

( Primavera )

( Rat and Sage )

Current Mood: aggravated

weaponized-love.livejournal.com

So Keenan is going to do his level best to take out the Baby Sun tomorrow, and he's going to do it with a hastily slapped together ANIMa Corps of Hogwarts.

Going to bullshit this as a mission under Bliss Stage rules, ifn' no one minds.

Keenan is Pilot 00, anchored by Primavera; Rat is Pilot 01, anchored by Sage; Brienne, 02; Coraline (anchored by Beowulf), 03.
The slots will fill. 2 slots left, guise, for 04 and 05.
~~Why yes, this game was based on Evangelion, how could you tell?~~

( Bliss Stage: Abridged Stage rules )

After Operation Archer, i'll get to Interlude bits, and how one levels up to Intimacy 5. :D

Just for an example, heeeeere's Keenan!

( Allow me to eluci... errrr, Stat Blocks, yeah! )

NOTE: Also note that we don't all have to be online at the same time so long as there's a definite order - each Pilot will be on one of the five Objectives; once all are complete; Keenan will go "wait whut sun went poof wai?"

Current Mood: amused

hotshot-momma.livejournal.com

The very first thing that Anna did was to shudder in sheer abject terror, eyes wide open. This was NOT Darkside Base. Was this another illusion, a Nightmare trick?

"Anchor," she snarled. "What's going on?" No response. "...Anchor?" Still no response.

"N...nathan?"

When there was no response, she took a deep breath, pulled herself up to her full height, and experimentally incanted: "Laura, you are my side-arm."

A baby started to cry. Anna looked down at the source of the noise, a two-year old and similarly Chinese boy, who seemed to have come in with her.

"Chobaoxi chusheng,* screwing with me and poor Archer," she snarled, but she sighed and picked up the baby and rocked him to sleep, satisfied that what was going on was strange, but not Nightmarish.

Then she noticed the application. And it explained a lot, really.

She sighed and began to fill it out.

( ATTN: The Commanding Officer, RE: Allow me to elucidate. )

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

I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them.
Ah Na

I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch.
Ah Na

One day, marmalade will rule the world.
Ah Na

((OOC: * "Bestial sons-a-bitches" in Mandarin, FYI.))

Current Mood: cranky

weaponized-love.livejournal.com

( To Rat and Sage )

Current Mood: chipper

i-am-harkonnen.livejournal.com

The first portion of a two-part Muggle Studies class will be held on Saturday the 24th of October. The subject will be An Introduction to Modern Muggle Weaponry, and as such, it may be somewhat dangerous. If you have problems with loud noises or strange moral issues regarding warfare, it is advised that you do not attend. This will be a practical class, and as such, will be hands-on experience. Arrive on time, and prepared to pay attention. In order to assure that I will have enough equipment prepared for everyone, sign up on this roster if you plan to attend. Sign up for Part 2 will be separate, and at a later date.

Baron Vladimir Harkonnen (Professor)

((Part 1 of the class isn't the war game- that'll be Part 2. Just a clarification as this was asked in chat, but I was afk at the time.))

kingbandit.livejournal.com

Jing is a thief. He lives to steal secrets and the representations of grief or pain from their owners. Hogwarts is rife with such secrets, but there is the matter of deciding just what to steal and when and whether he'd truly get away with it.

Then, there is the open challenge he has out to another thief, but the time isn't right yet. So many things happen that keep that particular prize from achieving the value it should have before it's reclaimed.

He's seen the compy lab and wondered about it. Does it hold secrets to steal? The best way to find out is to try. And Jing is one to be rather direct, issuing warnings of his intent. The lab is perfect for this as well.

A brief introductory session, interrupted by a tapestry behind him and the house elf showing him the system bursting into flames, and Jing understands much more than he was shown. In the manner of mischief common to boys and thieves, he makes a post under the name "ODorobou," since he is not one to hide just who and what he is.

Everyone has secrets, things they hide--or think they do--that they don't want anyone else to know. The problem with those secrets is the harder you try to hide them, the more valuable and more vulnerable they become. Unburden yourself. Reveal your secrets and be free of them.

Another fire behind him makes him decide to wait elsewhere, but he'll check back periodically to see just what secrets he collects.

This may be one of the easier heists he's pulled, if it works.

Current Mood: mischievous

serrulata.livejournal.com

So, in review, the last few days had been... well, bad wasn't exactly the word. 'Harrowing' maybe. Or 'Psychologically damaging.' A ressurrected ex-lover, a crazy man on a broomstick blowing up half of a greenhouse, and a mad infant sun causing the other half of said greenhouse to spontaneously combust. Kurama had had worse weeks. He'd deal.

Well, it would make for a productive night, if nothing else. Though he doubted anyone to be in a helpful mood, he posted a 'come in, under construction: All hands welcome' sign outside the greenhouse and set up lantern flowers at strategic locations around the greenhouse (the lighting system that had been there previous was gone, as well as most of the roof.) Kurama himself was in the thick of it all, a look of set determination on his face and a pushbroom in his hands, shoving broken glass and debris to the outer door of the greenhouse. Belophoebe, faithful and clingy cat that she was, observed this in queenly state atop the one remaining worktable.

Current Mood: annoyed

weaponized-love.livejournal.com

Keenan Caine stands in an empty practice room, the door open, screams of "EXPECTO ANIMA!" and "EXPECTO ANIMUS!" ringing through the halls.

He brings to mind his memories of his ~~3 Intimacy 3 Trust~~ relationship - as short as it is - with Primavera to his mind, and tries to manifest it, yet again. "EXPECTO... ANIMA!"

A brief flicker, a small gun, flickers before him, bright green, the color of mint chip ice cream; but then it fades.

He slumps down a little. "Fuck. Is it because I'm not Anchored?"

(OOC: Anyone interested in weird, unusual dueling magic ~~and crack pairings~~ should come on down!)

Current Mood: amused

ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com

There had been only the most obscure and private of warnings. There were beings who could have predicted the event, with runes or through oracular visions, or by whatever arcane powers they brought with them to Hogwarts -- whatever powers had not fallen prey to the castle's unpredictable field of interference. But how might they have prevented it? And how could they banish it, now that its inevitable advent had begun?

It rose in the sky, bloody and shrieking, three weeks short of All Hallows' Eve. Having risen, it radiated visible rays of unclean light, a light which carried no warmth and lent a cast of jaundice-yellow to the objects thus illumined. Going outdoors was like trying on a new outfit in a fluorescent-lit fitting room. Everything looked subtly wrong.

Mostly its shrieks heralded nothing. They were disconcerting, and raised the hackles on the backs of animals; they caused a mild dyspepsia in some who heard the shrieks, though by no means all. Indeed, some sentient creatures remained unaffected altogether.

But then there were the rarer moments when the shriek of the Baby Sun signified the beginning of something strange. Phenomena that could best be described as Fortean.

The first of these, beginning with the sun's shriek at noon of the day it first rose over Hogwarts, was a rash of spontaneous fires afflicting inanimate and nonsentient objects. This took place not only on the grounds, but also within the castle. Students might reach for their books only to find the book beginning to smolder, then abruptly flaring into a tower of flame. A plate of food in the Great Hall might go to greasy ashes before the first forkful could be taken. The house elves seemed to be spared, at least for now. Pets were safe. But no inanimate object, no matter how cherished or sacred or essential, was immune.

The Baby Sun giggled its loathsome amusement and lolled in the sickly sky. The whole of the grounds lay bathed in its bilious light. Once a student stepped off the grounds, the normal and benevolent sun of Earth was the only sun visible. Yet all of Hogwarts remained under the Baby Sun's mysterious sway, and none could say why or wherefore.

Perhaps some intrepid students might seek to find an answer.

(( OOC: As usual with these kinds of events, you can opt out. Your stuff doesn't need to get burnt; you don't need to get caught outdoors in a rain of fish or blood, or whatever subsequent phenomena take place between now and Halloween. If you want, your character can be unable to detect the Baby Sun or the weird quality of light at all. The mods will banish the Baby Sun through certain mysterious IC means once Halloween has come to pass. ))

znachit-v-morg.livejournal.com

It was with no small amount of confusion that Ivan found himself not in the foyer of his house in Moscow, but inside what seemed to be a rather large castle he had never stepped foot in before. His round, childish face scrunched up, he slowly turned around to stare at the door he had just come through. No, that was definitely not his front door. Strange, because he was certain that he had just come in from his garden.

Well, damn, he hoped he'd seen the last of those memory lapses after 1991.

When Ivan turned back around there was a wide, cheerful smile plastered on his face and a long metal water pipe clutched in both gloved hands. He surveyed the room quickly for anyone he could talk to about exactly where he was and how he’d gotten here, before he spotted a desk across the room. As it was the most distinguishing object he had seen so far, Ivan approached it with a few long strides.

( Allow me to elucidate. )

"I have read the

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

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

prettypendulum.livejournal.com

Startled profanity announced Kuronue's appearance in the sorting room. Twisting at the waist and peaking over his shoulder to look around rather warily, as well as curiously, he let loose another mumbled tangle of words that may or may not have made much sense to anyone who was close enough to hear. He wasn't quite sure what he'd said himself he was so startled. There had been blackness, and then...this.

"Right," he said to himself. "Right, okay. Stranger things have happened."

Shaking his head and stretching his wings a little, he figured it was the correct thing to do to wander over to the table not too far away from him. He stared down at the parchment for a moment, then sighed. Honestly, he'd seen stranger. He was a demon. A big nasty demon with pointy claws and fangs to go with it. This shouldn't startle him as much as it did.

People came back to life suddenly all the time. Uh-huh.

Kuronue shrugged his worries away and began fiddling with his old straw hat without realising it. He bent forward to read the first question.

( Allow me to elucidate. )

"I have read the

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

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

weaponized-love.livejournal.com

( Private Channel )

Current Mood: contemplative

arrogantmage.livejournal.com

(( Setting this up mainly so that Lezard and Yukimura can interact, but why not throw it open? If you want to thread with Lezard, just let me know in the subject line of your first comment. If folks want to thread amongst themselves, go for it. ))

The atmosphere of the Little Green Apple appealed to Lezard far more than the Ravenclaw bar could. The Ravenclaw bar seemed like a nondescript little pub, not at all catering to the dramatic and overdone. On a more practical note, the Ravenclaw bar was far likelier to receive visits from Mr. Wednesday, whom Lezard preferred to avoid.

Plans for the chinchilla habitat were in readiness, things with Mio were proceeding nicely, things with Steff were ... less problematic than before. All in all, Lezard felt entitled to a small break from his many nefarious projects.

It had also occurred to him that a drink or two would relieve his mind of certain worries which Michael Scott had planted there. To this end, he was sitting in one of the LGA's booths, sipping the first in a series of Black Widows.

haplo-runner.livejournal.com

((Haplo from the Deathgate Cycle))

There was a brief shimmer and a figure stepped lightly into the Sorting room. He was a man of about average height, wearing simple clothing made out of soft leathers. Beneath a leather vest he wore a high-necked and long sleeved shirt His hands were wrapped in strips of linen, leaving his fingers free to lightly touch the dagger at his waist. His hair was a nondescript shade of brown, tipped with white; his eyes were intelligent and hard.

Close behind him followed a dog with a dark pied coat and bushy tail. The dog paused beside his master and scented the air. Not sensing any danger, he barked joyously and began racing around the room, investigating all manner of new smells.

Haplo, one of the few Patryn Runners to survive the terrors of the Labyrinth, watched the dog with the smallest of smiles as it capered about the room happily investigating their surroundings. Certain that they were alone, at least for the moment; he tugged back the wrappings on his hand and glanced down. His skin was covered in tattoos of interlocking blue and red whirls and lines. Each rune touched the other, forming an elaborate and colorful network that covered every inch of his skin save for his hands, head and the soles of his feet. They were his protection and the source of his magic and would begin to glow in the presence of danger. The exuberance of the dog and the lack of glow from his runes convinced him that they were in no immediate danger.

The insistent tapping of the dictaquill caught his attention and he padded closer. The translation charm flared to life and he was able to understand the writing on the parchment in front of him.

( Read more... )

mixedup-pup.livejournal.com

A soft coalescence of heavenly blue light made itself happen in the Sorting Room. It stirred into a cloud, a shape, a body... a dog. A mangy, flea bitten mutt that could have been part german shepherd somewhere down the line, but was all mutt from the tip of one gnawed ear to the bottoms of his dirty paws.

Charlie B. Barkin, formerly alive, dead, alive and dead again, dropped from the blue, sparkling cloud in an undignified heap with all the grace allotted his species, which was to say none.

"One place this ain't is Heaven," Charlie muttered, picking himself off the floor with a pained grunt. He didn't remember there being cold stone floors in Heaven. Or stone walls, or anything that wasn't pink clouds, stars, halos and clocks.

So maybe (definitely) he wasn't going back after all. Hell, all of that pretty blue light and the "come home, Charlie" and the sparkles... Never trust a whippet. Heck, never trust a damn dead dog about anything. especially ones that could dance.

Sure, he'd died for Anne-Marie (and Itchy. God bless him, never forget Itchy) and he'd do it all over again if he was asked to. But he figured if this is where someone who nobly sacrificed his life to be a Good Dog and do the things that Good Dogs did ended up, well... he didn't want it anyway. Not that he had a choice.

Well, he'd dealt with worse. And if the worst this place (wherever this place was) could throw at him was a floating pansy pen, then he'd take here over New Orleans any day. Better than getting shot at by Flash Gordon rayguns or being nearly-eaten by foppish, gigantic sewer gators. Nothing, he was sure, could beat that.

He sniffed at the quill and parchment topped table, wishing for nothing more at that moment than a stiff drink.

( What's a dog gotta do to get a drink in this joint? )

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

serrulata.livejournal.com

Realizing that it had been more than long enough since he explored the particular acoustics of the Great Hall, Kurama had grabbed up his guitar and made his way from the greenhouses to the many-purposed hall Not to be left behind, his imperialistic cat followed at his heels, sniffing at passers-by in a queenly manner. Finding a seat at one of the massive windows, he began to tune and re-tune the sadly neglected instrument, playing snatches of songs as they came to him, or as people passed.

weaponized-love.livejournal.com

A gangly teenage boy in a button-down white shirt and big baggy slacks ambled into the Hogwarts sorting room, idly turning the pages of a manga, with far too much pink and blushing on the cover.

"Epic trap, that," he said with a grin before closing the... work, slipping it into his backpack, getting a pen and filling out the application form.

( TOO LONG DIDN'T READ (SIGNED: KC.) )

(OOC: Is that better?)