[identity profile] coxinsox.livejournal.com
The problem was, Dr. Cox had somehow thought that the new job would actually fix things.

Which he guessed was his first mistake, come to think of it. Come on -- he'd also thought divorcing Jordan would fix things, and that hadn't done a whole lot.

Anyway, the fact of the matter was that something... was in the air around here, and his nice new salary wasn't doing a whole lot to get rid of it. At first, he'd thought maybe it was just that he was more bored than usual... But nah, that wasn't it. Something was definitely different. Something was changing. People were starting to disappear left and right, like something was actually repelling them away from the place. And good God, some of the people that were coming in! He kept hearing rumors through the House Elves about all kinds of... well, some of it was better than his stories, but some of it was just downright disturbing, disgusting, and many, many other adjectives that, when you boiled it right down to it, all meant "screwed the hell up."

It had been putting him on edge, that was for sure. He was snappy to begin with, God knew, but lately even he had to admit he'd been unbearable. And -- well, he could not tell you why, but one day enough was enough.

Maybe it was that he'd gone down to the Popcorn Room and seen one too many new names he knew. Maybe it was that on his way to the Great Hall for lunch, an owl had crapped on his lab coat. Maybe it was just that he wasn't getting enough fiber in his diet. Whatever it was, he was done.

When he got back to work, an errant House Elf dropped a set of beakers, and Cox finally snapped for good. "All right," he snarled at the poor, terrified Elf, "that's it! I have had it up to here with the amateurish crap that goes on around this place aaaand if I have to go ahead and do hyeverything by myself, well, gosh darn it, I may as well do it someplace that doesn't make me want to go ahead and kill myself and everyone around me." He gave the Elf a twisted, manic grin and surged to his feet, knocking over the rest of the beakers. Whistling cheerfully, he stalked out of the Wing, heading back towards the Popcorn Room.

The fact of the matter was, magic wasn't fun anymore, not these days. The fun had gone right out of the whole damn place. And he couldn't go back home, not with everything he knew now. So, he guessed, it was time to find out what was next.

And maybe -- just maybe -- if he was reeee-heeeeeeally lucky -- JD wouldn't follow him this time.
[identity profile] vislor-turlough.livejournal.com
OOC: While the people below have signed up, this is open for anyone to enter the crazy.


So. It's Valentine's Day. Turlough had rounded up a few house elves to do his bidding. Said bidding was to set up tables with name cards, a table with food and drink (which may or may not be hexed, I couldn't decide), and a sign:

We will not be responsible for anyone fed love potions.

Because someone will.

We also will not be responsible for any actions here on in.

Turlough stood in the corner of the Great Hall, drink in hand, smirk on face as he watched people come on (or forced in by cattleprod point, in Soichiro's case.)

[identity profile] thequeenbluth.livejournal.com
((Note for those of you who have not seen Arrested Development: The show has a narrator, who is voiced by Ron Howard and who acts like sort of a Greek Chorus, commenting on the action. He's very integral to the style of the show, so I've chosen to include him here. That said, this is totally a stylistic thing -- like how some characters are written in first-person -- so your characters won't be able to hear anything, and anyone with psychic or extrasensory abilities isn't going to notice anything. It's just for fun.

Anything written in italics will be the narrator's commentary.

Also, there are spoilers in the comments, so be forewarned!))


This is Lucille Bluth. Moments ago, she was on the deck of the Queen Mary, but now she's found herself here, in a very strange place indeed.

"What the hell is this?" Lucille snapped. "Is this one of GOB's stupid magic tricks? Oh, God." She sighed wearily, putting a hand to her forehead. "I knew I shouldn't have gotten into the Aztec Tomb."

Lucille's oldest son, George Oscar Bluth II, a.k.a. GOB, was a magician who had given Lucille absolutely no reason to believe in magic. His most notorious trick was called the Aztec Tomb, and it had had some poor results in the past.

"GOB?" Lucille shouted at the walls. "You let me out of here right now, or so help me--"

And that was when Lucille spotted the form sitting on the table in front of her.

"Oh? What's this?" Lucille moved closer to take a look. "Application...? What on earth?" Suddenly, her face cleared. "Oh! This must be for the club. Well, if it will get us back in..."

She sat down and began to write, only to discover that the pen -- actually a Dictaquill -- was already doing the writing for her. Assuming the country club she thought she was at had upgraded its computer systems, she took this in stride.

And can I get a vodka tonic? )

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

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