hh_mirror

cap-cook.livejournal.com

Hey Lola,

Here's that picture I promised. It's not that great, so don't expect it to be. I wasn't sure what kind of picture you wanted, so... You know, as a kid, I used to do all these superheroes, coming up with new ideas for powers and identies and stuff, and I thought maybe I'd give that a shot again. And what I came up with eventually was... Well, he started out as Soberman, you know, because we talked about me going clean and all. And it was like a play on words with Superman. But I couldn't think of much exciting to do with him. Then he kind of took on a life of his own and became Stork Man. He saves kids and stuff and brings them to better places so they can have parents that want them and know how to take good care of them. And he can also disappear and reappear at will, which is useful, in case anyone's trying to catch him, and it also makes the kids happy because it's like a really crazy version of peekaboo.

Anyway. Maybe I'll see you around sometime.

Jesse

miranda-bnewski.livejournal.com

Characters: If you want to vent to your muns, or complain about the people who share your headspace, this is the place. It may not help things, but maybe you'll feel better.
Characters may comment and talk with each other.

is-falling-down.livejournal.com

Well, okay, for starters, it was good to be able to get out of that hall. It'd been interesting and everything, sure, but a little bit overwhelming. After a while. The Photojournalist didn't mind people - hell, he liked people, and especially interesting people - but he still didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten here or where the jungle was or if the jungle even existed, if he even...

Hell, he didn't know. It was a lot to take in.

And the jungle might not have been there, but it wasn't exactly gone, either. He wasn't exactly gone. The Colonel. Because his voice... Christ, it just didn't stop. And it was both maddening and comforting in a way, the Photojournalist didn't know what he'd have done had the voice somehow stopped but it probably wouldn't have been all that great and might just have tipped him over the edge so, all right, the voice was probably better, the voice... But where was Kurtz? Had to be out there, somewhere. Maybe all of this had something to do with him. The man had the strength for it. The Photojournalist didn't know how anyone could have pulled off a trick like this, but he didn't understand a lot of what Kurtz had managed to do.

That was one of the things he'd admired about the man. The way he was able to do... things, incredible things. To achieve what no one else could even think of, let alone do. The Colonel knew how to act. The Colonel had his own rules, and somehow he made them work.

None of that got the Photojournalist anywhere nearer to figuring out what was going on, though. He wasn't exactly trying to figure it out, as every time he made an attempt, he hit a mental and very painful wall. So he tried letting it come to him, but that wasn't really working. Even the cigarettes weren't helping much now, and he was trying to slow down on those, keep cool. Just keep cool. It was just a school, right? What kind of harm could it do?

He'd been wandering for a while, stopping to take pictures here and there, poking around siderooms and stairwells. Maybe he'd find a quiet-looking room and try to get some sleep. That'd be something.

It didn't feel safe, though. It was, yeah, a school, but there were a lot of people here, and the rooms were a little bit eerie. This wasn't your typical school, no sir. More like a castle. Vaulted rooms, gigantic pillars, blocks of stone... It was almost monumental. And dark. Shadowed. All of which didn't sit well with the Photojournalist. He kept expecting... things. He couldn't say what. He didn't want to think what.

So he took more pictures, kept walking. It sure was a hell of a place for exploration. He didn't think he was likely to get sick of it, nor of the whacked-out variety of people and things or whatever they were (some of them were very nice; he felt a little bad thinking about them as things, decided he should probably find a better word), so maybe he'd just wander forever. He thought maybe that he could find this Hufflepuff place or whatever it was, but there was some sort of problem associated there, as well, so he kept pushing the thought aside. Hell, he didn't mind just kind of looking around, taking pictures. Whatever came around was fine by him.

((OOC: For anyone who cares to or would need to know, there is a bit of background information on the Photojournalist just now. Very much in progress, but a couple of details that some of y'all apparently might know in case... you should ever need to know? Erm, yes. Oh, and some other connections. ETA: Yeah, so I changed his background [and now the link is actually there, urgh]; less death, more suspension. Whoo.))

cap-cook.livejournal.com

In the middle of the Hogwarts Sorting Room stood a young man in sweatpants, a large t-shirt, and a heavy, hooded sweatshirt. His name was Jesse Pinkman. Jesse's arms hung at his sides, fidgeting with his sweatshirt as he glanced around awkwardly.

Nearby, there was a table with what appeared to be application forms.

"The hell is this?" he muttered to himself. To his astonishment, the words he'd just spoken formed at the top of the page. Eyes widening, he glanced around the room rapidly. Then he folded his arms and held the paper up for examination.

"Uhh..." The paper quickly added this comment.

Eyebrow raised in lingering skepticism and alarm, Jesse nonetheless decided to forge ahead.

( Yo. )

"I have read the

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

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

le-franceypants.livejournal.com

When Francis left the bathroom, he was humming La Mairseillais to himself and smiling. His dress shirt (blue, like his eyes), was untucked and unbuttoned on the top, revealing thin curls of blond chest hair. His tie was undone and draped around his neck. He smelled vaguely of expensive cologne.

The Frenchman continued to hum and smile as he took a few steps forward, oblivious to his surroundings. However as he zipped up the fly of his dress pants (red, to match the design in his tie) and looked up, his face immediately fell into a puzzled frown. Now, he knew government buildings were big but he was sure Alfred’s White House did not look like the inside of a castle. In fact, he was pretty certain Alfred didn’t have many castles to begin with (that was Arthur’s department). Francis crossed his arms and rubbed the stubble on his chin. He glanced behind him and, sure enough, there was no bathroom. He swallowed, trying to keep the nerves from writhing in his stomach, and looked forward again. There was definitely something strange going on.

Mumbling to himself in French, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek red cell phone. He opened it, expecting the screen to light up and show him the date and the time, but nothing happened.

“Merde”, he cursed under his breath, and shook his phone. It did nothing to help, so he dropped it back into his pocket with a sigh. Looking around, he noticed a desk a short distance away from him. He glanced again over his shoulder before walking over to the desk.

( Allow me to elucidate. )

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

[WARNING: The thread with Francis and Roderich is now NSFW.]

Current Mood: confused
Current Location: Je ne sais pas!
Current Music: Do You Hear the People Sing - Les Miserables

hellminxmel.livejournal.com

Maia's feeling bitchy. What's new?

( Owl to Brice, love from anonymous )

( Owl to Lola, with a smiley face on pink notepaper )

( Owl to Mel, with a strong smell of leaking bleach )

( To Octavian, note written on flyleaf )

Happy fucking Hogmanay, people.

Current Mood: bitchy

woocha.livejournal.com

As a certain manager muttered as he left the room, Wishbone dragged the last of the decorations in.

Today was the day everyone got their Secret Santa gifts! And Wishbone had even gotten the house elves to make food for everyone, including him!

Each present was clearly labeled with who it was for.

Wishbone looked around at the setup. Not bad, very Christmasy. Then he dug in to find his, dragging it out and tearing into it.

Oh boy oh boy oh boy...

[[OOC: Gifts are here.

psychic-sammie.livejournal.com

Pain was the first thing to creep into Sam Winchester’s consciousness. Intense, nauseating, head-splitting pain. Then there was sound. Groaning from a place not too far away. It took a long time before Sam could combine these two sensations with an awareness of his body and it was even longer before he finally realized he had eyes and could open them. When he finally did, bright light flooded in and threatened to sear his eyeballs. “What the…!?”

“Sammie? Sammie, is that you?” Dean’s voice. Hoarse and filled with a pain that must equal his own. Sam struggled to keep his eyes open against the brightness, struggled to work enough moisture into his mouth so that he could speak. He coughed. “Dean? I’m here. I’m…where the Hell are we?” The brightness was starting to fade and Sam could make out what appeared to be stone walls surrounding them. He tried to sit up but winced as pain sliced through his head. He grunted and heard it echoed by Dean who must have attempted a similar movement.

“I don’t know. Last I remember we were standing next to the car.” It sounded as if Dean were talking through gritted teeth. Sam could sympathize.

“Looks like a dungeon or something. Stone walls.” Sam replied. His head was beginning to clear now and he realized that there was far less light in the room than he’d originally thought. He also sensed something vaguely familiar about their surroundings.

“Wait…” Dean said. Sam could see him out of the corner of his eye. He was starting to sit up. “I know this place. We’ve been here before.” Sam started to pull himself up as well and began looking around the room in earnest.

“Really?” Sam asked. “It seems familiar but I can’t place it.”

Dean was standing up now, turning in a slow circle to take in the whole room. There was a look of horror and utter disbelief creeping onto his features. “You have got to be kidding me!” He turned and looked down at where Sam still sat on the stone floor. “Do you realize where we are?”

Sam shook his head and immediately regretted it. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes as he spoke. “No, actually, I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me.”

Dean pursed his lips and glared down at his younger brother. “Sammie, this is freaking Hogwarts! Someone’s brought us back to the land of freaking Harry Potter and kiddie magic!”

((This post is to officially unpop both Sam and Dean Winchester. Both characters are available for RP in this post.

An FYI to muns: Sam and Dean don't have total amnesia. Sam vaguely remembers having been to Hogwarts before. Dean remembers having been there, which house they were in and some other minor details. Neither remembers any prior associations they might have had or positions they might have previously held.))

Current Mood: blank
Current Location: Great Hall

oneof-me.livejournal.com

((This application contains spoilers for Thief of Time (including the character's name, unfortunately...) ))

A woman appeared in the Sorting Room.

This was not, of course, unusual, but the way she appeared was. Most new arrivals to Hogwarts turned up in one piece. They didn't start out as a strange disturbance in the air, and a stream of particles that swirled and twisted and eventually formed into a woman, who staggered slightly and grasped the edge of a chair to steady herself. "...oh," she said, quietly, and after a moment of apparent deep thought, "Oh, bugger."

Her name was Unity, and unlike most new arrivals she knew exactly what had happened to her, although she couldn't have explained the process to anyone not capable of thinking in eighteen dimensions.

She was pale, and dark-haired, and beautiful in a monochromatic, overly-symmetrical way that some humans found unnerving. She was also naked, to begin with. After a few seconds she noticed this and shook her head, frowning in concentration. More atoms rushed in from the corners of the room, forming themselves into a sequinned evening dress, and gloves, and a large feathered hat. There. That ought to be acceptable.

There was a form, on the table next to her.

If there was one thing Unity knew how to do, it was paperwork. In fact, there were many things she knew how to do, but paperwork was still definitely among them.

( Allow me to elucidate. )

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

angelicbadboy.livejournal.com

( I thought one look at you / Looking like a dream come true / Would leave me speechless like you always do / But now we're wide awake / We've got some plans to make / Let's take some action, baby )

Current Mood: nervous
Current Location: Room of Requirement
Current Music: Serious – Legally Blonde soundtrack

nicknamegirl.livejournal.com

Lola was an angel with a mission. It was a simple mission, given to her by Brice, who was a bundle of nerves because he was popping the question tonight and had thought of a way of doing so. What Lola had to do was keep Mel busy for a few hours while Brice set things up. It was an easy enough task. They hadn't been shopping for ages. So Lola sent Mel an owl, knowing that Brice would fully encourage Mel going out. Perhaps a little too much, even.

Carita!
I don't know if you heard, but my beet-loving ex-husband is around again... (Help!) I think I need a break from the castle. Want to go shopping with me, pretty, pretty please? It's been so long and I bet you anything The Source has gotten lots of cool stuff in while we've been gone! Brice can manage without you for a few hours, I'm sure. =P Can you meet me by the castle gates like right now?

/Lollie xxxxxxxx

There. Should do it.

Current Mood: distracting
Current Music: Angel With An Attitude – The Ditty Bops

beets-r-god.livejournal.com

After hearing some house elf gossip, Dwight had learned something disturbing. Apparently, he really had been at this Hogwarts place before, and, in fact, had been married. This was definitely something he thought he ought to remember, but since he didn't, he figured it was high time he contacted the wife who wasn't actually popcorn. So, after grabbing some Dunder-Mifflin parchment, he composed the following note and sent it with a disgruntled house elf.

( Unwarded owl to Lola Sanchez )

Current Mood: productive

angelicbadboy.livejournal.com

((First cut leads to an explanation on where Brice and Lola were and why Mel is in the dark about it (WARNING: very lengthy), and the other is an invite to go say hi to the pondering angel boy. =) ))

( I had all of these minstrels bring me roses, strike up the band / Everything revolves ‘round you, babe / Try to understand it / ‘Bout the way that I been loving you, baby / That ain’t nothing like I, like I love you now )

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Brice sat leaning against a tree by the lake, enjoying some of the last sunshine of the summer. Twoey was off somewhere chasing sparrows, and he could hear her happy yapping somewhere in the back of his mind, but his thoughts were focused on something entirely different. They were on the small velvet box resting in his hands. He’d already opened and closed it several times, just to make sure the ring was still there. It always was, but he kept checking, nervously, as if he expected some nasty imp or whatever sneak up and snatch it from him.

So, how was one to go about actually asking? He’d already pictured several extravagant proposals, ranging from spelling it out in seashells on the beach (Mel’s favourite place) to taking her on a hot-air balloon ride and pop the question while they were looking out on the world she had just helped saving, but they seemed... big. And sure, it was a big deal, but at the same time he didn’t want to make it huge. Like he’d told Lola, it wasn’t a real proposal. Just a... question. A promise that he’d like to make that kind of commitment to her, some day, when they were less young and stupid. He didn’t want to make it more than that. The last time he’d asked her, as a last resort, to try and make things better when he messed up, she’d panicked and looked like she wanted to run away. Like a trapped animal. He’d rather not go through that again. So it had to be... calming.

Brice sighed and closed the box again. He turned it over in his hands, looked over the lake, and wondered on just how out of his depth he actually was.

Current Music: Daniel Lemma – If I Used To Love You

hot-german.livejournal.com

No matter what anyone said, Dieter preferred powdered evil to fresh.

When making Pancakes of Evil, it was important to have the right ingredients on hand. He could have gone all Martha Stewart, and powdered the evil himself, but boxed evil tasted just as good as the real deal. Besides, the Cookies of Evil came from a store. Everybody knew that.

With a fresh batch of pancakes, Dieter left the mess behind in the kitchen, figuring that he'd clean it up later. Well, the house elves wouldn't stand for that! They put all of the dirty mixing bowls and utensils away, wiped the counters, and put all of the ingredients back.

It was an understandable mistake. Powdered evil looks a lot like salt.

So it may have been evil that was added to the soup that was served in the Great Hall for lunch. Nobody was sure.

((Sorry! I have to spend Friday out of town, so this is early. It is up to the mun if their character eats the soup. This is opt-in only! The soup had random effects that are determined by the mun. The duration of the effects is also mun-determined.))

totallyluminous.livejournal.com

( Owls, warded )

There's cake.

And cold fruit juice, and biscuits. Mel's not sure just how they'll take this. Sugar might help in mellowing their mood. After all, wouldn't you be mad if your best friend revealed they'd been withholding valuable information from you because they didn't want you to get hurt? With time racing toward her, Mel can feel it's past time to tell them about the Creation angel and his conversation with her.

Fiddling with a loose thread in her top, Mel bites her lip and leans back on the desk, waiting for her friends to come in.

fondofcabinets.livejournal.com

The sound was loud and vulgar. It sounded as if a large blemish or boil had finally come to and decided to pop. The whole experience however, wasn't as unpleasant as the sound. The air around Draco actually smelled quite good and he felt almost as if he was glowing with a strange sort of warmth.

The downfall was, of course, that he was covered in thick, sap-like butter. His robes, his embellished and expensive robes were now ruined and he doubted if he would ever smell normal again. Draco grabbed the globs and cakes of butter from where he could- it was everywhere- and struggled to get it off of his hands.

He looked around and recognized Hogwarts. These halls were hard to miss, and Draco became nervous. It wasn't about the butter, or the yellow tinge to his robes anymore, but now about why he was in Hogwarts and who was there with him. This isn't what he remembered last. This isn't what he would have planned.

This isn't the way it was supposed to be.

bantersucks.livejournal.com

((IC hiatus/canon-update post, co-written with Brenda-mun. Cut for tl;dr because Jaime-mun can't be concise EVER.))

"C'mon!" Brenda said, dragging Jaime down the hall. "It'll be fun!"

This, Jaime had learned, was a phrase that usually led to incipient doom. Or punching. "Yeah, for the one who isn't being slammed onto the floor repeatedly." But he continued down the corridor with Brenda, heading in what they thought was the right direction. "What floor's this Room of Requirement supposed to be on again?"

Brenda consulted a sheet of scribbled notes. "Seventh, I'm pretty sure. Across from a tapestry of dancing trolls."

"A tapestry of... oookay." He shook his head. "Least it'll be easy to spot." ( Of course, just by saying that, he'd jinxed it. )

( Raven to Lola )

He folded the paper up and waved it at Sancho. "Give this to Lola, okay? In one piece." Sancho cawed and launched himself off the chair, snatching up the paper with his talons as he fluttered out the window.

Milagro noticed the movement out of the corner of her eye. "Hey! What was that?"

Jaime didn't respond. He just stared out the window, watching the raven glide off into the afternoon sun. He stood there, watching, until Sancho was nothing more than a faint black speck on the horizon and then was gone entirely from sight.

totallyluminous.livejournal.com

((Written with with Brice-mun! SPOILERS for 'Feeling The Vibes'. ))

( I can't save the world. I'm just a kid. )

***

This staring thing Mel had going on was really starting to worry her boyfriend. They'd gotten back pretty recently. (And soon found out that a whole bunch of people had spontaneously popcorned. The hell? Here you go away to save a baby Buddha for a few days and people were getting turned into snack food left and right...) Mel had been scarily quiet for a long time, and it was so unlike her to not talk that Brice had to draw the conclusion that something was wrong. Had he done something? He hoped not.

He wasn't good at this. He needed a girl. A girl for his girlfriend to talk girly stuff with until she turned back to her normal, sparkly self. And there was really only one person he could contact in this situation.

( Warded owl to Lola )

nicknamegirl.livejournal.com

((Backdated to Valentine’s Day.))

Right. Busying herself and talking to Gatsby, to try and keep her mind away from Jaime and the Impending Talk, had only worked so-so. Fine. Lola knew she couldn’t avoid it forever. And besides, she had missed Jaime a lot during her mission. Part of her couldn’t wait to see him. So. She went up to her own room, changed out of her trouble-shooting outfit, which was dusty and completely not-okay to wear when you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in... how many days now? Lola frowned. She was pretty sure it had been at least a week where she’d been looking after Azhar, but who knew how long that meant she’d been gone from Hogwarts? Oh well, she’d find out soon enough.

Now she was standing outside his door, and calmly counted to five before she knocked. During those five seconds she checked her hair, made sure she hadn’t gotten anything in her teeth, and adjusted the locket around her neck. Today the little pad inside had been dabbed in a rich perfume of jasmine and spices that she’d picked up in Tunisia, but that was the only thing different about her.

Then she knocked. And forced herself to look calm and smiling, though her heart was hammering in her chest.

Current Mood: nervous

goldhatgatsby.livejournal.com

((Just as an aside, Gatsby's mun is British. Therefore, there might be bits I interpret differently. There's a reason I'm apping him on a cracky comm!))

It doesn't matter what this man's name is, his profession, or his life story. As James Gatz arrives at Hogwarts, he lets out a smile of such hope, a smile of such eternal reassurance, that it is best to savour it before it fades and dies completely. Those smiles only come four or five times a lifetime, after all. He puts down his bags (stamped with a gold J.G.) and brushes down his white suit, with a silver shirt and a gold tie, before looking up from under his eyelashes.

The castle will have to do until he can build another mansion--perhaps overlooking the lake? He claps his hands together delicately, trying not to make too loud of a noise. 'Well, old sport,' he declares to the Dictaquill, looking delighted as it notes down his words. 'I suppose this is what I have to do next?'

( Jewels more rich than Ormus shows. )

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Entries tagged with lola sanchez

Owl to Lola

OOC Post: Vent to the Muns

Open RP - Halls of Hogwarts, somewhere or other...

Application: Jesse Pinkman (Breaking Bad)

[Application:] Francis Bonnefoy, Axis Powers Hetalia

Owls to Brice, Lola, Mel and Octavian: backdated to Hogmanay

[Open RP] Secret Santa

Sam and Dean Save the World. (Sock and Open RP)

Application for Unity (Discworld - Thief of Time)

Closed RP: You're PROPOSING?! I thought you were breaking up with me!

Closed RP: How Many Angels Can Dance In A Shopping Mall?

Owl to Lola Sanchez

Sockpuppeting and Open RP: A Thoughtful Brice

So it's not chocolate, but it's magic food!

Owls and closed RP: Brice, Lola and Mel and spilling the beans

Draco Malfoy, Unpopping

IC Hiatus/Canon-update post, or, Took a Wrong Turn at Albuquerque

Closed RP: Mel and Brice get back: Lola acts as therapist. Again. She should get paid.

Closed RP: Jaime and Lola and a Talk.

Jay Gatsby, 'The Great Gatsby' by F. Scott Fitzgerald