[identity profile] nerdofthelord.livejournal.com
((This one's open to pretty much anyone, but Yukimura and Lee are particularly invited to come around before or after Bobby and the boys show up.))

---

Castiel had finally gotten around to investigating the bar in Ravenclaw tower, and found the place to his liking. He could sit quietly and watch people come and go if he wanted to, socialize if he liked (which he hadn't yet ventured to do, but he was working up to it,) and he could drink as much as he wanted of whatever he liked.

He'd been trying not to abuse the privilege. Getting roaring drunk, he'd been assured, did little to improve his disposition. Though Dean had made some puzzling allusions to marijuana that frankly stumped him, as he hadn't tried the stuff. Yet.

This afternoon, though, he was here for a purpose, waiting for Bobby to arrive so that they could set in motion their plan to exact retribution upon the Winchester boys for the events their prank war had set in motion the night of the Yule party.

Practical jokes were still unfamiliar territory to the angel. But he was cautiously optimistic that the plan was both appropriate and effective; Bobby had devised the spells, and he had thought of the delivery system.

Whether it would be funny, on the other hand...well, that he really wasn't qualified to judge. He was fairly sure, though, that Dean and Sam would not be laughing.
[identity profile] ancient-adam.livejournal.com
Lee )

Brienne )

Igor )

Dean Winchester )

For Kurama )


Eleventh Doctor )

((There are probably more I'm missing, but I can't quite figure out the right/clever gift or it's being done in an already ongoing thread))
[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] nerdofthelord.livejournal.com

((Application approved by the Winchesters and Bobby! *Waves paperwork stamped APPROVED*))


---

"I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace--or freedom?"

It was a disheartening way to say good-bye.  But Castiel, his recent 'upgrade' nothwithstanding, was tired of shouldering the responsibility that should rightfully have been borne by the entire Host; and if he sat there in the Impala any longer, the temptation to stay, leave Heaven to sort itself out and try to help Dean put his life back together (and maybe, possibly, try to find one of his own?) would be impossible for even an angel to resist.

And he couldn't do that.  The war for Earth was over (at least for the moment,) but there was still a mess of Biblical proportions waiting to be cleaned up elsewhere, and as far as Cas knew, there was no one else left with the means or the will to tackle the job. Not who could be trusted, at least. The prospect made his head hurt, but if today's victory--and the terrible sacrifice with which it had been purchased--was to mean anything at all in the long term, he couldn't leave the job half-done.

He'd make it up to his friend later. He hoped.

By an effort of will, he was swept from the passenger's seat of the old car, soaring at the speed of thought on mostly-metaphorical wings toward the glimmering spires of the Silver City, and home.

...or not?

This isn't Heaven. )

---

I have read the [livejournal.com profile] hogwarts_hocus  faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. NOTL

I have read the [livejournal.com profile] hogwarts_hocus  rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. NOTL

One day, marmalade will rule the world. NOTL

[identity profile] perkeleperkele.livejournal.com
(OOC: Never let it be said that I don't like a challenge)


Well, he had been dozing in his comfy chair. At least he still had his bottle of beer and his knife

When he got up, one could see that he was a guy with a beard and a hat, who didn't talk much. The only indication of his identity was the shirt on him: white, with a blue cross.

Finland looked around, displeased that not only was he woken up, he was now someplace different altogether. Coming closer to the table, he saw the application and looked at it.

The Dictaquill sprung to life. Finland tried to grab it, but it kept darting and wriggling out of his grasp until, frustrated, Finland started chasing it with his knife.

With it wriggling as it was pinned down, Finland muttered "perkele," as he picked up a normal quill and began writing.

Allow me to elucidate. )

"I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. ___Finland_________
I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. ____Finland_______.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. __Finland_________.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. ____Finland_________"
[identity profile] mnemosyneeater.livejournal.com
Magic made it considerably easier to shift the wooden sculpture he'd carved down to the Great Hall. He placed it just beside the door. There was a lot of traffic there, he'd noticed, student had to eat, after all, though some took their food elsewhere. It was a large statue, about the same size as Apos, which seemed short to everyone else here.

He took a blue orb from his pocket, blew on it until it was yellow, and set it in the wooden hands that reached out to him. There was a pole through the wrists of those hands, and through other places of the faceless woman he'd carved. She was like a more violent rendition of Saint Sebastian with poles through her neck and most joints, forcing her into a kneeling, beckoning position. He'd even carved the blood, the gore of the wound in her neck. 

He caressed her face, carved into an expression of agony, and pressed his lips to hers.

Moving back, he tilted his head at her, smiling happily. She was beautiful. Placing his hand on the sword at his hip, he walked down the hall a little, hid himself well in the shadows of the hall. He wanted to see what kind of reception she gained, how long it took them to destroy her, move her. He also wanted to see if anyone would take the Spore, if they would become like him and regenerate limbs in seconds, live forever.

(OOC: Feel free to inspect the statue, or the orb. The orb (or Time Fruit/ Time Spore) itself, when yellow, can be taken into people through osmosis. It'll sink into skin on first touch. It turns the victim immortal, regardless of gender, since he's been working on alterations to work around that little issue--and also because I can count the females at Hogwarts on one hand. Once absorbed, if Apos embraces his male side or brings his wings out, the victim will become overwhelmed with arousal, a desire to be eaten. The arousal is debilitating, to the point where women in canon can't stand, let alone walk when he is near by.)
[identity profile] raistlin-black.livejournal.com
((Bringing Raistlin back with a canon update to boot! And one of these days, his mun will learn how to format on the first damn try!))

A man in black robes staggered to his feet outside of the popcorn room, clearly disoriented. He snarled a word of magic, creating a thrumming wave of energy that surrounded him like a shield. Raistlin Majere, Master of the Tower of High Sorcery, had returned to Hogwarts. The mage looked down at his robes, jet black and normally of the softest fabric, trimmed in ornate silver runes now sodden with grease. He plucked at a sleeve with with an expression of disgust.

He was back. Raistlin tore his hood back and gave an inarticulate scream of rage. He had passed through Shoikan Grove unharmed and claimed the Tower of High Sorcery as his own, all of it’s secrets and magic were his. The spellbooks of Fistandantilius were his, he was learning the most powerful secrets of arcane magic. Yet the magic of this school had pulled him back against his will.

His spell components were ruined, but he could call on enough magic to burn the grease from his robes. Anyone passing by would see a cranky looking wizard standing in the hallway, smoking.

 

[identity profile] im-wacky-times.livejournal.com
... well, worksafe if your boss does not mind you READING ABOUT T-REX AT HOGWARTS while you are at work. Maybe even WRITING with or about T-Rex, OMG!

T-Rex personally felt he was extremely safe at Hogwarts. Some things even scared a tyrannosaurus. Even a tyrannosaurus who was routinely accosted by unwanted conversation from the Devil himself. (The Devil usually just wanted to talk about video games, and was more annoying than anything. God could be scarier than the Devil.) Devil, no big deal. But some things were just too creepy.

Those things were raccoons and cephalopods. Poopy raccoons and cephalopods. Who liked to make really creepy suggestions. Even the nice things they tried to do for him just ended up being super creepy. Like, how could baking a cake for someone be creepy? If raccoons and cephalopods made it, that's how.

And those things lived next door to T-Rex. Well, first they had started just hanging around his house, then they moved into the house next door because they liked bugging T-Rex so much.

Those things were so persistent that when T-Rex moved to a different house, they moved to the house next door to his new house. And came over to use his bathroom, wtf?!

He wasn't sure which was creepier, the raccoons or the cephalopods, who liked to 'chillax' in T-Rex's bedroom (uninvited, obvs). He just knew that the best thing about Hogwarts was that they were NOT AROUND, and especially that they were not living next door to him!

The very helpful Sorting Hat had sent some house elves to situate T-Rex in his "assigned space". He couldn't fit in a dorm room, funky Hogwarts enchantments notwithstanding, even though the Sorting Room had somehow magically accommodated him. Not to worry, the Hat assured him, he could live next to McGraw Tower!

What was McGraw Tower, and whose was it?

Oh, it belonged to some guy named Andy Bernard, who was a human, and not a raccoon or a cephalopod? Awesome, that would be great!

T-Rex was busily moving in to ... some kind of quonset hut with weird magical capabilities and capacity ... that had its own bathroom, because duh, what dinosaur doesn't need his own bathroom? And there were no cephalopods and no raccoons in the bathroom, either! He went out in front of his magical quonset hut to chillax on the lawn. In the shade of McGraw Tower.
[identity profile] chinasorrows.livejournal.com
((OOC: In the Skulduggery Pleasant canon, when a person first sees China Sorrows, they fall instantly in love. The ability isn't gender bias, it will affect men and women equally. In addition, within the canon, is the susceptibility to control somone once their name is known. These abilities may or may not affect the characters at Hogwarts if that is the mun's preference. If you think it will be fun to play into it, e.g. to let a character fall for China, then you'll need to let me know through OOC or pm. For more information on China, check her user profile. Her mun.))

China Sorrows; her hair, black as deepest sin, framed her face while her eyes, as pale as her brother’s had been, scanned the sorting room. The heavy doors closed behind her with a soft fwump. The skirt she wore was a light green, and the jacket was of a green deeper than a thousand crushed emeralds. Her necklace was exquisite, having cost two very fine men their lives. At times, she wore it as a tribute to their sacrifice. Other times, she wore it because it went well with the skirt.

China walked to the desk at the far end of the room, situated below the large arched windows that overlooked the lush grounds of the castle. When she sat down in the chair the quill, having been unanimated next to a scruffy piece of parchment, became animated, standing at attention on its gold-point. China eyed it. A small smile graced her lips. She noticed that as she leant in to read the parchment, the quill was slowly turning clockwise on the desktop, grinding into the grain. Curious, she thought.

At the parchment’s top it explained that any verbal answers would be written down by the quill. The addendum and questions were all written in the elegant, Edwardian script. She was intrigued. She read on.

Allow me to elucidate... )

"I have read the hogwarts_hocus  faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. __China Sorrows__
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. __China Sorrows__.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. __China Sorrows__.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. __China Sorrows__"
[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] righteous-pen.livejournal.com
The Baby Sun had been gone for a week, and nothing had spontaneously combusted, been covered in pink sludge or played disturbing music in that time. Mikami had finally accepted that it probably wasn't going to, and that the world around Hogwarts had returned to - comparative sanity.

Which left him free to think of other things. Specifically, the anonymous conversation he'd had on the secret post. He had no idea who the other commenter had been, of course, or whether their circumstances had been anything like his own, whether he should respect or revile them for what they'd admitted. But... God was trying to teach me something. It could have meant anything, it could have been a coincidence, it almost certainly was...

...and still, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

He couldn't just post asking to hear from that commenter again, though. They'd confessed anonymously for a reason, and there were too many other people who'd find it amusing to respond. Something more indirect, then.

Eventually he posted the following, anonymously, in the early morning when there were few people around and not much chance of being caught. Masuyo lay on his lap, occasionally adding remarks like sdffdr and ############# to the post, which he carefully edited out again. He hadn't been quite comfortable leaving her behind.

Have you ever communicated with a god, or other 'higher power', directly or indirectly?

If the communication was indirect, how did you know?

What did they say to you?

Do you believe that your life has a purpose?

Anonymous comments are encouraged. Please do not feel obliged to answer all questions if you don't wish to.


That done, he returned to his room. He'd check back later.
[identity profile] 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.
[identity profile] 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._______"
[identity profile] a-grave-man.livejournal.com
 ((You want classic characters, you got it. Also, I'm aware that the pic is of a modern version of the guy.))

Mercutio sort of spaced out in the sorting room, admiring everything.

"Such gleeful creations; such would be touched by the very hand of God himself, were this not but a mortal design!" ...Right. The man picked up one of the application forms, and again got transfixed--the dictaquill had written out his words, complete with fancy script. "Impossible! Inconceivable? This marvelous creation..." Scribe scribe. "copies me as if but a child, eager to imitate its father in all regards."

Then he actually looked at the app.

TL;DR )
[identity profile] noseymaddie.livejournal.com
So, yes, the muns are plotting. Poor Maddie, the target of that plotting. Little does she know that as she goes into the Compy Lab to see what horrorswonders await her.

Behold, the shiny technology.

Behold, the intrawebs.

Behold, the BBS, which, only occasionally like the BBC, is calling her name.

Actually, I don't believe the BBC called Maddie.

The mun has a disgraceful habit of following bunny trails in Maddie's posts. Let us get to the point, if you please.

Maddie goes into the Compy Lab and after registering the very clever screenname of "MysteryAuthor" posts the following:

As one who is new to this bulletin board service style of posting,
I was wondering how does one integrate this into normal social gatherings? 
Is it an adjunct to mixers and face to face contact or a replacement for them?


Maddie really doesn't know much about these things.
[identity profile] arrogantmage.livejournal.com
Lezard and Steff had inadvertently grown a giant death worm.

All right, they hadn't grown it inadvertently. They'd done that intentionally. What they'd done inadvertently was to give it far too much growth catalyst potion, then allow it to escape Lezard's dorm-room-turned-laboratory.

Now there was a death worm slithering the corridors of Hogwarts, making its way up from the dungeons and roaming the halls at will. Mercifully, it had stopped growing at five feet in length. It was looking for food, to fuel further growth.



(( Wikipedia describes the death worm thusly: "it is reported to look like the intestine of a cow. It is the subject of a number of extraordinary claims by Mongolian locals -- such as the ability of the worm to spew forth sulfuric acid that, on contact, will turn anything it touches yellow and corroded (which would kill a human), and its purported ability to kill at a distance by means of electric discharge." Since you can't die at Hogwarts, this would make for nasty electric shocks or what have you, but wouldn't be fatal. Feel free to NPC the death worm. Attack it, flee from it, get shocked by it -- whatever you like! In the end, if nothing else avails, we're told the shoggies will eat it.

ETA: apparently the electric discharge is, er, rectally emitted ...

ETA again: let's say that if you manage to chop the worm in half, you'll end up with two smaller worms. That way some folks can actually defeat a worm without ending the RP for subsequent threads. :) ))
[identity profile] goodheadbadhead.livejournal.com
The man who appears in the Sorting Hall is rather . . . unusual. Not just because he appears to be missing the skin on his left side, either. It's the way he's arguing with himself that takes him from disturbing to surreal.

"--don't care if you wanted to, I'm not about to get us killed because you're a soft-hearted idiot!
"Just because I'm not willing to shoot innocents in the face doesn't mean I'm stupid, Harv, I'm just . . . what on Earth is this, now?"

They look around themselves, frown, and spot the paper.

"Oh, this is stupid.
"No kidding. Alright, what are the questions?"

Well, we weren't doing anything important . . . )
[identity profile] raistlin-red.livejournal.com
His entry was preceeded by the rustle of robes against the stone and the steady tap of a staff on the floor. Hourglass shaped eyes narrowed at his unfamiliar surroundings. Raistlin Majere, sorceror of Krynn and bearer of the Red Robes of Neutrality, surveyed the room. He was alone, there were no signs of his oafish brother Caramon, Tanis, even that infernal Kender, Tasselhoff. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep near the fire, and hearing the steady snores of his companions.

After a moment’s pause, the hood was pushed back, revealing the careworn face of a young man. White hair tumbled past his shoulders, contrasting with his metallic golden skin.

Shirak,” the young man whispered. The round crystal, clutched in a golden dragon’s talon at the top of his staff flared, spilling light into the room.

Seized with a coughing fit that racked his entire body, Raistlin clutched at his staff to remain standing. When the fit had passed, he straightened, and noticed the quill hovering over the parchment.

(the mun apologizes in advance, Raistlin is a complicated, sarcastic and often bitter character considering his very frail health. So he can sound rather dickish. His spellcasting abilities are based on the AD&D 2nd ed rules))

"I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. raistlin_red
I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. raistlin_red

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

One day, marmalade will rule the world. raistlin_red

Read on )



[identity profile] ancient-adam.livejournal.com
Freshly showered and feeling much better in non-buttery clothing, Methos swung on his trenchcoat and decided to begin re-exploring Hogwarts. Thanks to directions from a few helpful house elves, he managed to locate his old room and was relieved to find his journals safely stacked away on a shelf among the other books and empty beer bottles. Dragging a finger across the dusty desk, he frowned. "Guess I've been gone for awhile then."

Methos closed the door behind him, hoping he'll at least remember his way back. His challenge in the Forbidden Forest with Akabane had left him in strangely good spirits. He still couldn't remember much about the school itself aside from a random flash or two, so perhaps a long stroll around the grounds would serve to jog his memory.

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