[identity profile] gourmetchairman.livejournal.com
It was quiet in the Gryffindor common room.

Was.

In a cloud of Floo Powder Chairman Kaga came out, singing.

He had accepted an invitation from his old friend the Duke of Brissac to celebrate his birthday with him, an invitation he accepted with eagerness.

A good time was had by all the guests, and he was returning a day later, still buzzed from all the wine he drank (and in fact he had a bottle with him for later) and in a merry mood.
[identity profile] my-soul-itches.livejournal.com
Someone let Megan into the wine coolers in the Ravenclaw bar.

If asked later, she wouldn't say who, and she would mostly insist that the ensuing hangover meant that she would never do it again, and she would insist that she meant to play Dazzler really loud out in the Great Hall instead of Erasure. Specifically, "Always" on repeat and she couldn't get it to stop. But that was okay! She was just fine dancing to it. Dancing and accidentally puffing out her pixie dust.

Unfortunately for those caught underneath in the swirls of pink dust, it was hallucinogenic. Fortunately, it was awesome.

((Because the mun has had the song in her head all week, everyone else can suffer share! Visions given by Megan's pixie dust are benign--and for the purposes of this post, mostly along the lines of this, thematically--music, dolphins, rainbows, fairies, robots, double jumping, whatever. Though it's mostly a cracky suggestion and not a rule.))
[identity profile] frosty-odinson.livejournal.com
It would have been unlikely that someone should have caught the exact moment of Loki's arrival, but if anyone happened to be nearby, they might have noticed that, suddenly, in a spot unoccupied just moments ago, there now stood a tall, young-looking man with a long, pale face. He was dressed in silver armor, adorned with a long green cape and a double-horned helmet, which he removed after a moment, revealing dark, swept-back hair that fell almost to his shoulders.

He took in his surroundings, expressionless, and eventually made his way over to a desk. As soon as he'd seated himself, a Dictaquill picked itself up and stood poised over a piece of parchment.

"Application for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy," Loki read.

Might as well see where this was going. )


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

((OOC NOTE: I am picking Loki up right where he left off at the end of the movie. Also, mad spoilers up in here.))
[identity profile] i-am-harkonnen.livejournal.com
((In short- It's a giant over-the-top wedding party with a Dethklok concert for characters to enjoy and do whatever- the whole school's been invited. It should be noted that Dethklok's music is known to have a almost magical effect- they've driven audiences insane, raised trolls, caused hurricanes, etc. Half the food's been spiked by Valentine, choose your poison if desired! This was a group-written bit of epic TL;DR with permission received from all characters mentioned- sorry about the length, but there's a lot going on! The dragons arrive at the very end of the party- they mark 'the end' so to say, and are mostly just torching everything but the DETHTOWER, They're not assaulting any random chars, so there's no reason for anyone to interfere with them, it's basically 'under control'. . . =D ))

Certain human traditions are nearly universal- in most any culture, the concept of marriage can be found in one form or another. And in most of these cultures, marriages involve weddings. The Baron Vladimir Harkonnen and Lord Valentine Wolfe knew this as well as anyone, and, also knew exactly what a wedding actually was. Although many of the common masses felt weddings to be a wonderful, romantic celebration of a couple's love and commitment, both of these noblemen knew that a wedding was actually a huge, memorable party- memorable being key- intended to make a public statement. Although the exact nature of this statement varied from situation to situation, Vladimir and Valentine were well-aware that their union was making the best statement, which basically summed up to "We're better than you, we have more fun than you, and if you fuck with either of us, you fuck with both of us." Obviously, this statement had to be accompanied by a party of unforgettable proportion.

An epic account of the wedding extravaganza follows. . . )
[identity profile] ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com
The Sorting Hat kept up with the trends! It knew that the world was scheduled to end on May 21, and all the righteous would be uplifted to Heaven.

Since the Sorting Hat knew itself to be the wisest and most righteous being of all, it came to the most logical conclusion.

Upon waking from a nap on the afternoon of the 21st, and realizing it was still at Hogwarts, the Hat understood that it was already in Heaven.

Hogwarts was heaven.

"Halos and harps for everyone!" the Hat decreed.

And so it was. House elves brought everyone gilt halos and strap-on wings and hand-held harps, or autoharps, or the occasional harmonica (the house elves had taken to tasing one another for fun, and their mental acuity was not what it once was). The Great Hall (still home to the wax display of Hatsguard Heroes, mind you) was bedecked in white draperies, tinsel, and leftover battle fog from the Harkonnen Dining Experience machines (the Hat felt this would create a cloudlike effect). Angel food cake and ambrosia were the evening meal. Oh, and cans of Red Bull ((at player suggestion, because it GIVES YOU WINGS)).

Debbie Gibson's BELINDA CARLISLE's "Heaven Is a Place on Earth" was piped through WART, the insipid soundtrack of Hat Heaven. Alternating with the Elvenking cover of same ((thanks to Igor-mun)).
[identity profile] my-soul-itches.livejournal.com
Talking to Jem had put Megan in an incredibly good mood, and she felt like sharing. She had spent the past few days shut in her room, working out the logistics, making decorations, going through her music collection (and what she could find in the radio station, once she finally stumbled over it) and at the last minute, scrambling over to the Hufflepuff food libraries for snacks.

Since it would take forever to decorate the Great Hall all by herself (even with her awesome wings and teleporting, that room was huge) she got a decent-sized flock or swarm or whatever you called a group of house elves to help tack up posters and streamers and lights while she sent off a quick owl and grabbed the music from her room. It was all fun stuff, easy to dance to, even what she had borrowed from the WART studio: Dazzler (naturally), Katy Perry, Pink, Lady Gaga, that sort of thing.

As a last measure, she 'ported around the school and scattered fliers. Because nothing said a dance like fliers.

((Share your favorite top 40-type dance songs if you want! Assume they are in whatever she grabbed from the WART studio. As a side note, I have been rocking out to my favorite late-nineties pop while writing this, mostly Aqua. It has been incredibly distracting. In any case, have your characters unwind and have fun!))
[identity profile] glamhologram.livejournal.com
In the Sorting Room, a starburst of magenta light flashed and was gone. At the center of the afterglow stood a young woman with big pink '80s hair, wearing a pink wrap dress belted with silver beaded fringe. Her matching pink heels were alarmingly high, yet she could do anything in them, it seemed. This was adequately demonstrated as she ran back and forth between the Sorting Room's walls, alternately throwing herself against the walls and pounding against them. Throughout this display, she managed not to break the microphone she was clutching in her hand.

"Help! Let me out! Someone? Anyone? Rio, where are you?!"

Finally she gave up. With a furtive look around to assure herself no thugs or Misfits were around to discover her secret, she reached up to finger one of the gaudy red starburst-shaped earrings she wore.

"Show's over, Synergy."

But nothing happened. Instead, a funny piece of parchment floated into view, and a floating quill beside it. Was the quill actually reading questions to her, and then writing down the answers?

Show's over, Synergy! .... Synergy? SYNERGY?!? Hello ...? )

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

Thanks to the multitude of televisions peppered across the Great Hall, it was getting difficult to find a quiet place to work. Sam had finally taken his books and the memory given form that was his old laptop and hunkered down in Gryffindor’s common room to try and get some additional reading done. His work was leading to one, inevitable and generally unpleasant conclusion. There was only one way he was going to save Adam from Hell.

He paused long enough to send an owl to Castiel, asking the angel to come by when he had time. It was apparent that Cas and Death were.. well. Cas looked really happy for once and Sam didn't want to interrupt.

[identity profile] lorne-host.livejournal.com

A somewhat confused demon stood in the middle of the Sorting Room. His brilliant green skin, red horns and eyes contrasted sharply with the well tailored pale blue shirt and lemon yellow suit that he wore. He looked around and groaned. “Jumping Judas on a pogo stick, a castle? Isn’t this all a little, you know, cliché? I swear if the Powers sent me somewhere I can’t get my hands on a decent Seabreeze, I’m going on strike. Ya’ll can call Miss Cleo from now on.”

Test? Can't I just hum a few bars? )
[identity profile] my-soul-itches.livejournal.com
Dear Mr. Winchester,

Hi! I'm Megan Gwynn. I don't know if you remember me, we met in your Sorting. I'm the one with wings. (And if you met more than one person with wings, I'm the one with pink hair.) I think you must be settled by now, so I was hoping to get some lessons on those Devil Trap things you were talking about for your bribe. I found some chalk! Well, the house elves found it, I just asked. Is it all right if it's blue and yellow? They brought a few different kinds just to be sure.

Also, do I need any safety equipment or anything?

When would be a good time or place for you? Thanks!

Sincerely,
Megan Gwynn, Gryffindor and X-man
[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] 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] my-soul-itches.livejournal.com
So here's a thought exercise.

SPOILERS for Pixie Strikes Back, X-men: Second Coming, and Hellbound. ) Yeah. Good times.

Megan came back to Hogwarts, less bloody and concussed than last time, but somehow twenty times more beaten-down. There was a limit, and she had just about reached it.

Moping was not going to help her. If she started thinking about it--any of it--she might very well start screaming and never stop. Instead, after 'porting back, she slipped very quietly into the kitchens and enlisted the help of several house elves. They tried to do all the work, but she needed something to do to keep her in constant motion, something to keep her from thinking.

After a sleepless night, she set out trays with heaps of baked goods in the Great Hall, all with the lumpy appearance of genuinely homemade treats. She taped up her sign ("Free! Guaranteed NO HEXES OR POTIONS!") and sat back with a sigh, wings folding neatly behind her and a slightly too-desperate smile on her tired face.
[identity profile] vizierprandine.livejournal.com
((OOC: I've been unable to find a specific name for his headdress, as it has aspects of a Chaperon, yet is also similar to the Sultan's headwear in Disney's 'Aladdin'. So, for the purpose of this application and any role-play involving Prandine, I'll be referring to his headdress as a 'bourrelet' as it is the culturallyl evolved form of the Chaperon, and is the closest description I could find. P. S. Thaegan mun approved, as I am her.))

Prandine sniffed the air and pined for the sulphuric atmosphere of the Shadowlands. The wind picked up in the sorting room, carrying with it the scents of honeysuckle and fresh dew. It ruffled his long, bulky black robes and long greying hair. The nerve under his eye twitched, he scrunched his features into a scowl. 'Putrid,' he muttered. He glanced around looking for the opened window, and was buffeted by another sweet scented gale. His bony hand clamped down on his bejewelled bourrelet, as the wind wrestled with it. He caught sight of the window and rushed it, the hem of his robes billowed behind him. As he reached for the window another gale got caught within his floor length sleeves, in affect, disorientating him long enough for his hand to leave the bourrelet. As it blew off, it tumbled across the flagstones. Prandine grumbled, clasping the iron hatch of the window he slammed it shut, the pane rattling. Prandine picked up his hat and dusted it, placing it back on his head as if it were a crown. When he felt comfortable that his headdress was on properly, he found himself staring at a cedar desk. It was tucked away in the corner of the stone room, with a solely piece of parchment on its surface, and beside it; an intricate quill with a brass tip and fluorescent green and blue feathered tail. Intrigued, if not slightly perturbed by the joy in the room and the avarice in his heart, he sat himself before the parchment and read its proposal.

Prandine read the parchment's header out loud after a moment, as to understand it. 'Hogwarts Enrolment Application.' It wasn't until his spoken word that the quill reacted in anyway. Its fluorescent feathered tail twitched and moved like a cat's, once it took a moment to wake up, Prandine had thought he'd hallucinated the twitch of the quill's feather. But then the quill stood to attention on its brass point, flicking its feathered tail and turning on its point. Prandine stared. The quill took to hovering above the application and with three hostile slashes it underlined a fine noted, located in the side-margined that he had over-looked. It detailed that the quill would reiterate spoken word. With such knowledge in his slimy mind, he smirked violently. Prandine continued in ascertaining the parchment, and equally, his reason for being here.

Allow me to elucidate... )

"I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. Prandine, Chief Adviser.
I have read the
[info]hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. Prandine, Chief Adviser.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. Prandine, Chief Adviser.
One day, marmalade the Shadow Lord will rule the world Deltora. Prandine, Chief Adviser."
[identity profile] eleventyrags.livejournal.com
Somewhere, in the vast and unquantifiable reaches of space, a Police Box turned slowly in the void. The interior, expanded through the powers of pocket dimension science and convenient narrative, was loud with the noise of industry.

The Doctor was preparing.

"Aaaall right," He spoke aloud, to the population of the TARDIS, pulling levers and turning knobs and looking busy in the way only a man who had to look like he knew what he was doing to keep everyone sane could.
"That should do it and if you two are ready," he spun from the console of the TARDIS, arms wide. "We are ready for Ri-oooh..." The Doctor's jovial voice died to something a little more along the lines of 'bloody hell what is this' and he reached into the inside pocket of his smart overcoat, pulling from within The (and the capitols here were important) Sonic Screwdriver.

This was not the TARDIS. As far as he knew, the TARDIS had never adopted an interior featuring heavily on the stone and drapery motif. The library came close, but having to account for the pool made things a little less gothic and a little more... well, library with a pool in. But that wasn't the point here.

The point was... that he didn't know what the point was. yet.

He scanned the room briefly with The Screwdriver and checked the reading with barely a glance. Earth, 2010 (not a year he wanted to be stuck in at the moment, though it seemed to be well after The Day of Great Importance) Scotland, but... somewhere not on the 'map' that The Screwdriver set itself by.

No indeed, not any part of Scotland he knew at all.

He stood still a moment, then pocketed The Screwdriver. Well, here he was, and here the room was, and he had no clue what was going on, but that, of course, would be easily fixed by careful and methodical planning.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, took a deep breath, and shouted.

"Hell-ooooooo? Would anyone be so kind as to tell me where I am?"

He waited.

He tried again.

"This is really kind of an inconvenience," he gestured to the wall that had been the TARDIS a few minutes ago. "I have an appointment with an attractive couple in the tropics and I really should get on to it. Hello?"

It was then that he noticed the quill. )
[identity profile] amandagraystone.livejournal.com
((WARNING: spoilers for all existing episodes of Caprica))

Land on your feet, in a crouch. Amazed. Hands outflung as if in flight. Fold your arms, unfold them, stretch one out before you and study your hand in amazement. Same scarred wrist. Run a finger over the keloid ridge. Reach up to feel your face. The back of your head. Fingers clenching in your own hair. Think you ought to have a headache. Experimental pull. Yeah. It hurts to pull your hair. You have sensation. Full range?

You are embodied and aware.

You always knew who you were and now, in a blink, you suspect where it is you've jumped. Before you even look around.


They say that surviving is the punishment for leaving things left unsaid. )


ooc disclaimer: I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. AG
I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. AG
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. AG
One day, marmalade will rule the world. AG
[identity profile] not-so-stellar.livejournal.com
(( With mod permission and due process followed, here is Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa does not remember her prior time(s) at Hogwarts, unless and until we find it amusing. Barring that, she's straight outta HBP. ))


She found herself on a cold floor, amid a pool of tepid and congealing butter, and her muscles were not obeying her. Very little elegance in this, more's the pity: Narcissa twitched. It was not even as dignified as sleep-paralysis. Her limbs were coming back to life, all pins-and-needles, and she did not know what had happened to her. She could only assume the worst.

Draco, failing? Snape's Unbreakable Vow, exacted at such a cost of pain and embarrassment for Narcissa, all for nothing? Memories of the most recent past stirred sluggishly in a mind not quite yet in possession of its full faculties. No, but Dumbledore was dead, was dead, and that task was done -- why would anyone have punished Narcissa? (And by anyone, she meant Him, or someone acting at His order, which amounted to the same thing. Him. The Dark Lord, who had wanted her son to fail.)

She shivered and cried for her husband. She would be deeply embarrassed later.
[identity profile] super-sword.livejournal.com

Strange.

Duncan Idaho, Mentat, Swordmaster of Ginaz, protector of the Atreides line and ghola number.. 489 (give or take a few, it was hard to keep track after so long) AND the ultimate Kwisatz Haderach (ftw!), stood in the sorting room. He wasn’t easily confused, but he could find no recollection of such a room across the vastness of his memories. Where was he? Was this some trick of Erasmus? A final strike against humanity?

It had just been revealed that he was in fact the ultimate Kwisatz Haderach, and had merged with the flowmetal skin of the robot Erasmus in order to bring humanity to it’s next pinnacle.

Or something like that.

Read more... )

 

Profile

hh_mirror: (Default)
HH_mirror

March 2022

S M T W T F S
  12345
67 89101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
2728293031  

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jun. 26th, 2025 05:58 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios