hh_mirror

thefuturemrpond.livejournal.com

When exactly meeting up for drinks with the Master had become a regular thing, Rory wasn't sure. But it helped, having one other person around who understood things. Even if that one person was a megalomaniacal alien.

They were in the Ravenclaw bar, because the drinks in Ravenclaw had substantially less chance of causing anything embarrassing to happen, like getting into fights or long involved discussions of root vegetables. And Rory was experimenting with the iSieve. From the device, a little voice proclaimed "Prisoner Zero will vacate the human residence..."

science-advice.livejournal.com

A blue box gradually appeared, harked by its eerie, otherworldly klaxon… albeit one that wasn’t working as smoothly as it should have, by the sound of it. It flickered as if reluctant to solidify into existence, and the settled on visibility with a violent blink. Even it’s sound shut off rapidly, and there was an ominous bang from the inside. A moment after the door opened and a man exited, bringing with him a puff of smoke. He coughed discreetly and brushed his plum velvet coat and black cape with a brilliant purple satin lining somewhat indignantly, before looking around himself.

“Well, it’s not where I left at least… but where is it then…” he muttered to himself.

It looked like Earth, possibly even England, though not the time period he’d just left (and that was the first time in a while, he had to be getting better at this fixing business)… and yet not quite right. He gave a wide berth to a particularly unpleasant looking hat, and instead went to inspect a table, which seemed to be empty, but perhaps-- the Doctor’s eyebrows rose as a piece of paper and a quill shimmered into existence on the table. Now this was certainly not technology from any of humanity’s older periods. And a school of magic? Probably another embarrassing ploy from the Master, he really had to stop dabbling with this sort of thing. But for now, he might as well go with it.

( Now what is this nonsense? )

thefuturemrpond.livejournal.com

The weather was starting to get warmer now. Rory thought this would be a good day to get out of the castle.

He was wandering the grounds fairly aimlessly, not sure he wanted to see anyone, until he found himself approaching A's garden. A was there, taking measurements in the dirt. Rory paused, frowning. Even from a distance, A looked...

...honestly? He looks like I feel.

He came a little closer, concerned. "Um... hi."

ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com

The party was not intended to celebrate Halloween, actually, but to celebrate the existence of pumpkins. It just seemed Halloween would be a good time for that kind of a celebration.

Wizarding culture had a special regard for the pumpkin, making it into tarts and juice and savories, forcing it down the gullets of every magic-user from such a tender age as to form a lifelong habit. The Sorting Hat, being steeped in magic, had also steeped itself in many a vessel of pumpkin juice over the centuries of its storied existence. Pumpkin juice, pumpkin ale, pumpkin hooch. Gooey pumpkin-gut strings, luxurious nutrient-rich slime studded with pale seeds. Oh pumpkins, glorious gourd of wizard's delight!

The Hat had dubbed this party after one of its favorite recipes: the LUSCIOUS PUMPKIN JAM.

The huge doors of the Great Hall were open. While magic kept the chill seasonal drafts from the Great Hall itself, party-goers who wished to enjoy the crisp autumn air could do so from the luxury of a pumpkin carriage. These were quite literally hollowed pumpkins that the Hat's magic had transfigured into full-size carriages, capable of carrying several occupants. Each was lit from within by enchanted candles, and studded with gleaming black jewels, with carved faces in lieu of windows. Several of the enchanted wonders were lined up outside the doors, with their house-elf coachmen ready to whisk students around the school grounds in slightly-gooey, pumpkin-scented comfort.

Indoors, all was warm and merry, and candlelit, and mostly orange. Instead of bobbing for apples, guests could bob for miniature pumpkins, the sort Martha Stewart might have used to decorate a mantelpiece, their tub filled with pumpkin juice in lieu of water. A pumpkin-carving station took prominent position near the doors, with paints and yarn to bedeck uncarved gourds for those students uninterested in pulling out pumpkin pulp. Tables had been moved to accommodate a dance floor, with a karaoke machine placed nearby. Golems inspired by Arcimboldo, wholly composed of autumnal fruits, did duty as waiters and DJs.

From the vantage of the head table, elevated above the main body of the hall, the Hat could take in all at once the entire spectacle. Satisfied, it rapped a self-congratulatory pastiche/homage:

"There ain't no party like a Sorting Hat party 'cause a Sorting Hat party don't STOP!"

The Hat felt most coolio itself, extending a strap to caress languidly the sequined sombrero that lay beside its place at the Great Hall's head table. The sombrero did not respond, of course. It was rather like the hat-equivalent of a RealDoll. Inert though it might be, the sombrero was velvety AND blingy, and that was what mattered.

thefuturemrpond.livejournal.com

Amy Pond, Gryffindor said the popcorn plaque.

...this wasn't the worst that could happen, Rory reminded himself. Far from it. She'd be back on the Tardis now. They weren't even apart this time, technically.

He'd just have to wait.

chipsandwich.livejournal.com

Stepping through a doorway and finding himself somewhere totally unexpected was... well, not entirely outside of his experience. Out of the ordinary, maybe, but not his ordinary.
Still, being alone in an unfamiliar place was unsettling, and as he set to examine the room, he hoped that his friends were just out of sight. "Rani? Sarah Jane?" He'd been with them just moments ago, hadn't he? "Luke?" And, a long shot, but possible: "Maria?"
And since he was suddenly in a place that wasn't merely unfamiliar but that somehow felt strange, "Doctor? Is this one of your... things?"

( That was when he spotted the quill and parchment. )

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

ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com

The dome was supposed to be indestructable. Hat magic trumped almost every power known to man or god, here on the Hat's turf.

Yet there was a creature the Hat was known to fear.

The Canadian Weasley bear.

( In which the Canadian Weasley bear is discussed )

It started by attacking the dome — the last place the scent of the other bear's pelt could be detected. (Elric had given the pelt to Ariane Emory as a superlatively romantic Valentine's Day gift. Ari, learning of its origin, hadn't wanted it around any longer, and stashed it within the dome. Ironically, she'd done so in the belief the impregnable and invulnerable dome would be the safest place to hide such an artifact.)

Spiders poured from the bear's mouth in an unending stream. Some skittered through the gash the bear's claws were tearing in the dome.

Where was Elric of Melniboné, whose Stormbringer might stand a chance against the Canadian Weasley bear? Where was Ariane Emory, who could've deduced what the bear was after?

( in which it is explained why Stormbringer is unavailable to save the day )

The Hat Shore cast was on its own. They would have to fend off the Canadian Weasley bear. They couldn't die trying, thanks to the protective enchantments on the Hogwarts grounds, but any close encounter with a Canadian Weasley bear could get ugly pretty quickly in painful and nightmarish ways exclusive of death.

Conveniently, Kojiro was nowhere to be seen ...

((OOC note: The Canadian Weasley bear / TerrorBear can be written as an NPC in any of the Hat Shore contestants' tags. As with Yoda Boot Camp, when attacking the Canadian Weasley bear, go to random.org and use the number generator on the front page, 1 to 100, on the subject line of each first event post for your character. This determines the success of your attack or tactic, on a scale from 1 = complete failure and your character taking damage from a bear counterattack, to 100 = critical hit with impunity.

Try not to KO the bear immediately, so everyone who wants to play can have a chance :) Creative and/or amusing tactics are welcome, along with involvement from dropbears and tree octopi. Small fires will erupt in the bear's footprints, and the bear will continue to drool spiders until KOed.

If the Hat Shore cast doesn't collectively manage to stop the bear, Something Else will happen. If they do manage to stop the bear, Something Magical will happen.

Live broadcast will be shown in the Great Hall. Characters capable of escaping the castle to attack the bear from outside the dome may do so. The rest should remain indoors since the Hat will have battened down the proverbial hatches and raised an alarm.))

thefuturemrpond.livejournal.com

Rory stopped by the popcorn room, sometimes. Just out of curiosity. There were a couple of - versions? regenerations - of the Doctor listed on the plaque, and, alarmingly, a Dalek, which he was keeping an eye on.

He'd noticed 'Ninth Doctor' appearing on the list, not long ago, and 'Tenth Doctor' disappearing, and remembering some of his awkward conversations with the Master, he'd thought that could get interesting...

And now 'Tenth Doctor' was back on the plaque.

Rory suddenly had a very bad feeling.

thefuturemrpond.livejournal.com

Rory has a plan.

Amy's been saying she doesn't want anything special for Valentine's Day. Something low-key, just the two of them. Which is Amy-speak for 'it'd better be good'. Rory knows these things.

But this is going to be good. He's been sorting it out quietly for ages. The only thing he can't be sure about is the weather, since it's February, but they've got umbrellas. All he's told Amy is to dress for somewhere warm. She might work it out from that, of course...

Now, he's waiting for her to get ready.

lady-thujone.livejournal.com

It had been a while since La Fee Verte had gone all out and held a party. Nothing about this particular day demanded celebration, but sometimes the days with nothing to throw a party for were the best occasions.

She hadn't exactly gone all-out, but the karaoke machine had been topped off with new selections - Sadako, taking a guise that was less 'waterlogged corpse' and more 'alluringly damp', was currently doing a creditable rendition of "Sir Patrick Spens" - and she was stretching her mixologist's art and preparing an array of increasingly elaborately layered pousse-cafés, lined up on the bar in an implict dare for the bold drinker. Occasionally, she'd set one on fire.

The Master found the spectacle entertaining, but he was well aware that such beverages were mainly useful in the creation of truly spectacular hangovers, and he rarely felt the need to cultivate such a thing. But La Fee Verte did make a good Sidecar, and he was sipping one and absentmindedly nibbling on a new minor success; the little pretzel sticks common on Earth bore a striking outward resemblance to a type of snack that had been popular on Gallifrey when he was a child, and with some careful spell use, he'd been able to conjure the memory of the taste into the vastly inferior Earth food. Of course, the Gallifreyan version was I-dare-you spicy, but anyone who tried to make off with any without asking deserved a little pain.

[[give a holler in your subject line if you're trying to get La Fee Verte, Sadako, or the Master's attention, or feel free to belt out some karaoke! The drinks are completely mundane, but very strong, sticky-sweet, and the flavor combinations are dubious at best.]]

serrulata.livejournal.com

( From Kurama )

To Sokka - A Set of boomerangs.

To Kaga - A sampler of demon-world herbs, with a note: None of them are poisonous, but I can't cook. Let me know if you find fun uses for them.

( From Zack )

( From River )

( From Matt )

( From Eleven )

( From Brendan (Though he's still being sorted, he does take time between 'interrogations' to scribble up a few gifts) )

serrulata.livejournal.com

They'd raced through the dungeon, Kuronue taking the West end, Kurama the East, and by the time they met up again, every water pipe in the place was glowing a different color. Some were even alight with colors that didn't even exist, or sparkled and dripped in disconcerting ways.

"Excellent," Kurama grinned, shoving his wand back into its holster. "I wonder what'll happen once the sprinklers go on in the greenhouses."

There was a long pause of contemplation.

"I think you might wanna take a day or two off work," Kuronue said, catching a distant tinkle of glass as something in that general area broke. Or, broke free.

"D'you think we might not have planned this out too carefully?" Kurama asked.

Another long pause.

“Still, you know... No need to get tentacle raped or something.” Kuronue looked oddly pleased at the possibility of such happening however. Especially since he knew it was possible.

Well, it was Kurama.

_{((OOC - Kuro socking done with mun approval. Basic chocolate plot rules apply, all the water in the school is magicked, cursed, charmed, and so forth, all with different effects up to the mun. Have fun!))}

thefuturemrpond.livejournal.com

I want to talk to you. If you're interested meet me in the Great Hall.

- the Lone Centurion

It was a short letter for two reasons. One, Rory was not sure about the wisdom of setting up a meeting with the psychopathic alien who'd threatened to do unpleasant things to you with a cocktail stirrer. But he needed to know more than he did, to protect Amy and himself and the rest of the school and possibly even the Doctor because what the bloody hell had he got himself in to? And he had a bargaining chip, sort of.

Which was the other reason the letter was so short. He couldn't remember how to write anything more elaborate in Old Norman dialect. Still, that ought to get the Master's attention.

thefuturemrpond.livejournal.com

[after this happened.]

Doctor,

We need to talk. Who is the Master and ~~why didn't~~ what is going on with you and him?

Rory

And after hastily writing that owl, Rory headed back to Gryffindor to find Amy.

theregothedrums.livejournal.com

((The Master's video game preferences inspired by the wonderful Raven Aorla. Go read a few of her fics. The post will still be here when you get back, I promise!))

Even the Master needs a break from planning to take over the world, and video games were a welcome distraction. Once he'd found out about the computer room (Maddie had certainly been chatty, but in a far more useful manner than some human females) he'd sought it out right away, and had commandeered two of the systems. On one monitor, tiny computer sprites who worshiped him as a god were at war with each other, and on the other, a green scaly monster was rampaging through the complex city he'd spent the morning constructing. That was the most beautiful thing about building things up; getting to see them all come crashing down.

And, of course, playing video games required munchies. The box of truffles that lay so invitingly open on a nearby table otherwise occupied by... were those really dot matrix printers? had been quite tempting.

Really, too tempting. It wasn't until eating his third, which tasted of a fruit that had never set root in Earth soil, that he realized what a mistake he'd made. And by then it was far too late. Having been overcome by a rather giddy and voluble mood, he'd ignored one game and shut down the other in favor of the local intranet.

But you'll need to look to the comments to read what he had to say.

[[ETA: Yes, it's those sorts of chocolates. The ones that only the n00bs and the thrillseekers go near. Your choice of temporary magical effect!]]

theregothedrums.livejournal.com

((with the approval of the other Who muns))

He was...

He was in a slick heap on the floor, the smell of butter the first thing he consciously aware of. The smell. It was impossibly silent, an undreamed-of silence.

The Master, looking distinctly unmasterful in ragged, butter-drenched clothes, dragged himself from the room, pulling himself upright on the doorframe.

Silent, but for his breathing, and the butter dripping from him to the floor. His mouth felt greasy, and he spat to clear it. If only he could do the same to his mind! It was too quiet to think. He staggered into the hall.

He was...

He was alive. And that was all the starting point he'd ever needed.

The Master's laughter echoed down the stony corridor, echoing, folding in on itself. He was alive.

vislor-turlough.livejournal.com

Artemis wanted to go back to her native element for a bit. Not that Turlough blamed her-he wants to go back home too-but at least it was close enough that she could frolic in the mangosteen grove while he watched, and that it wasn't a permament thing. She still did the clinging neck stole thing, as he put it.

So while Artemis ran around being a normal civet cat, Turlough watched her, absorbing the heat and sun since outside the grove the temperature was starting to drop, what with fall coming.

callmewednesday.livejournal.com

It suited Mr. Wednesday's purposes that more students should get to know him.

The usual notices were posted in the usual places (common rooms, Great Hall, etc.) to the effect that Office Hours were being held in the Ancient Runes Office by the Professor of Ancient Runes, one Mr. Wednesday by name.

He left the shoebox of old and ownerless magic wands out in the hallway on a chair. His office door had its plaque, Mr. Wednesday, Professor of Ancient Runes, graven in nondescript and standard fashion. Beneath the plaque, into the wood of the door itself, runes were scratched colorlessly and unobtrusively. They gave other names.

ancient-adam.livejournal.com

((Intended for a few, open for anyone who wanders by!))

The decorations had finally been swept up, the cake cleared away and Kurama had at last escaped the birthday celebration inflicted upon him by the house elves. The Great Hall was deserted, save for one man seated at a long table. There were piles of books surrounding him and at least three dictaquills hovered expectantly nearby. Every few moments, the man would raise his head, aim his wand at the quill and mutter a charm. Sometimes the quill sprang to life, scratching on the paper. Most of the time it refused to move.

Giving a frustrated sigh, Methos reached for the beer at his right hand and took a deep drink. He stared at the quills thoughtfully – he had been working on the translation charms for weeks without much luck, but when you’re an immortal at a magical school, you have to find some way to pass the time.

eleventyrags.livejournal.com

Hogwarts, it turned out, was almost an interesting place in itself to make up for not being able to jet off into the universe at will.

The library, for example, wasn't nearly as vast as the Doctor's (or other planetary libraries he'd visited) but was charmingly exclusive on certain subjects, and very involved where those subjects were concerned. The restricted section especially had been an experience.

Even better, the ceiling of the Great Hall. He had spent hours one day just laying on a table, staring at it, watching magically-induced clouds drift between the hall's pillars.

But even with those lovely things, absolutely nothing in this world compared to the endless fun inherent with the moving staircases. Finding all kinds of secret rooms, forgotten halls, and classrooms full of students who'd just gone in because they couldn't get to the floor they wanted provided so much marvelous stimuli that even he was starting to get exhausted.

And to that end, he was taking his careful time going down one staircase that seemed to react to the climber's speed, when everything happened.

No, really. Everything happened. Bad dreams lizardpeople pandorica soccer pandorica River Amy Rory centurion plastic centurion married time blue box old new and...

He absolutely had to find a fez right now. It would help if he found a way to climb back onto the stairs proper. Time had happened in such a sudden rush that he'd been knocked over the side of the staircase by the force of it, dangling now from an awkward handhold - part of the railing - and looking very far down past his feet.

He looked around, hoping for a little help.

Current Mood: h-help?
Current Location: Stairway Hall

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Entries tagged with rory williams

Drinks in Ravenclaw ((Rory and the Master))

Application: Third Doctor (Doctor Who)

((closed for Rory and A))

Luscious Pumpkin Jam (dated to Halloween night)

((open rp))

Application for Clyde Langer, THE SARAH JANE ADVENTURES

Hat Shore finale: attack of the Canadian Weasley bear

confidante ((closed for Rory and the Master))

Valentine's Day surprise (closed for Amy and Rory)

Free-for-All at the Little Green Apple! (open rp)

The Giftening!

The Water Warlocks (Open Chocolate Plot, whole school)

owl to the Master

owl to Eleven and rp for Rory and Amy

Compy and Chocolate... open to all!

Open RP - The Master returns

[Open RP] In the grove

open office hours for Ancient Runes

Stubborn Quills ((open RP))

Jumping Time (Open RP, Eleventh Doctor)

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March 2022

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