open RP: El Mundo del Sombrero bites the dust! Hot Pockets for everyone!

[ugly_old_hat]

The Sorting Hat had a new lease on life, thanks to the return of its abducted bride. In Virginia's absence, the Hat had fretted alone in the Hat House, leaving only grudgingly for the Sortings it must perform, and using the rest of its time for contemplation so emo as to be worthy of the most bespandexed Gryffindor. Had it a navel, it would have

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[tallyhopippip]

Not...married?

George was a bit sad and upset. Forcing people to marry, well, that's one thing. Forcing them to divorce, that's another matter entirely!

Well, George is going to fix this!

Now, where's Doug?

[nervous_guy]

Whaaaaat?

Forced divorces? Say it wasn't so! Doug had liked being married, man! Even... if it was to, well, another man. ...Sort of. George kind of liked dresses. But still. He'd been the one to wear the pants in a relationship! How often did that happen?! Not at all, was the answer!

He had to find George! Luckily, not a feat too hard. He was kind of really tall.

"Holy crap, did you see this?" he managed to squeak out to his ex-betrothed, mouth pulling down into a bit of a distressed frown.

[tallyhopippip]

"Yes, and it's wrong, and it's Bolshevist, and it's just not right! Well, I'm going to fix this right now!"

Saying that, George got down on his knees, and held out the ring that the nice chap made for him.

"Doug, marry me!"

[nervous_guy]

"What's Bolshevist mean?" Doug was asking, and wasn't that a kind of sauce? But George was still going, ah well. It wasn't important.

What was important! ...Was what was in front of him!

Doug's jaw dropped, automatically, as he clapped his hands against either side of his head and stared. For a few long seconds. And more staring. "This is... oh man! This is so sudden!" Gaaah! What to do? What to DO?

"Yes! I'll marry you!"

[blue_ataru]

Aayla was cautious of chocolates and punch. Jelly donuts? The thought didn't cross her mind. She brought a couple of donuts and a cup of punch for Yoda over where he was sitting. Yoda poked at the donut, but downed the punch happily enough.

It was only when she realized that she couldn't feel her lekku anymore and that Yoda was now talking animatedly to a spot on the wall that Aayla realized something might be wrong here.

[ghostorangel]

Silas had never heard more welcome news. His forced marriage, which he had at first attributed to divine punishment, had been more thoroughly frightening even than his time in prison. The fact that he’d now been released was surely divine forgiveness, and it couldn’t have had better timing--the last thing he’d wanted to have to do was go to Ned, his liege lord, and explain the entire problem. Quite fortunately it seemed Ned and Catelyn hadn’t gone through the same trouble themselves--perhaps because they were married already, and so were immune, or…something

[usethepoker]

Silas nodded without looking at Ryder, resolutely silent. Behind them, Shaun’s frustrated voice shattered what Silas would have liked to leave a moment of cold silence.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Susan, cyanide is bad, all right? It bloody kills people.” He’d been arguing this point with her for half an hour, and was beginning to feel like he’d be doing so for another three days, at this rate.

YES, BUT HOW? Susan asked, patient as only Death could be. She nudged a kitten onward with the handle of her scythe. “How does it work?”

Shaun, a vein twitching in his temple, resisted the urge to bite straight through his cricket bat. “I dunno! Does it matter? Dead’s dead--come on, you oughtta know that.”

“Yes, but you see, the point is to know why it makes people dead,” she explained, still patient, as they passed through the huge doors and into the Great Hall. “It would be for science

[grandmasteryoda]

Yoda, who was currently tripping like a motherfucker, discovered something that a lot of bored college students before him had long ago: Dio rocks, and that shit is deep. His neck would probably snap in two if he attempted to headbang, so he stuck to bobbing his head. "Amazing, you are! An encore, I would hear!"

He'd never felt so at one with the universe. Also, he is aware of his tongue.

[daxtastic]

Dax, on the other hand, was disgusted. Everyone knew what filthy pigs rock stars were! Soon, the Great Hall she had been cleaning so thoroughly (while somehow managing to keep every hair on her gloriously coiffed head in place) would be nothing more than a den of broken glass and bodily secretions!

Unacceptable!

"No!" She cried. "I vould not 'ere any more of zis 'music'." If it could even be called that. Everyone knew no band was complete without a French Horn. "You should not be encouraging zem, little man!"

[likeabadpenny]

Peter hadn't really known what to think when he'd gone back to the castle for a bit, and then returned to a definite lack of a tent village and everybody being herded out by house elves. No, really, the absolute non-presence of a reaction was kind of disturbing - he just hadn't processed yet. It took him a while to get his head around things sometimes, especially when said things seemed to involve not being married anymore after weeks of being so.

On the way to his room, Peter shuffled past the table of food and absently grabbed a donut, reminding himself that eating was probably a good idea. He didn't make it much more than a few steps after the first bite before everything seemed... decidely different.

Not to mention much bigger. And unfamiliar.

Oh, no, he'd gotten lost again. Nathan was going to kill him. If Nathan even found him, and what if Nathan wasn't here, and where was he, and what if he never got home again? Eyes growing wide and teary, and a very much four year old Peter crawled under the table and hid from the adults.

[daxtastic]

Sacre blue! A small child! Along at night, in a crowded hall.

Dax had to take a break from her rigorous cleaning schedule, to do the right thing.

"DO NOT TOUCH ANYZING!" She cried, pointing her feather duster at the small person. Children made messes! Messes that she would have to clean up. "No food, no juice. No anyzing!"

[likeabadpenny]

Even though he was still huddled under the table, Peter folded his arms across his chest and stuck out his lower lip. He wasn't touching anything! He wasn't being bad! Mean woman.

"Are you a nanny?" Peter asked, wondering if his mother had gotten someone new. The last one had been okay, though she hadn't made good cookies. She'd tried to slip broccoli into his chocolate cookie. Broccoli! Peter hadn't been able to look at anything green for weeks!

[daxtastic]

"A-a-a nanny?" Dax sputtered. "Never! Children, zey are too messy! Too snotty! I vould never subject myself to zat!"

[daxtastic]

Dax had slightly less cause to celebrate than most of her former neighbors. Her marriage to Jack Sparrow had been a convenient, and rather pleasant, union. But, oh well. Perhaps they could still be friends!

Never one to miss a party and perhaps looking for an excuse to avoid rearranging her suite to hold one person, since her former roommate's popcorning, Dax ambled into the the great hall, and helped herself to one of those 'Hot Pockets' that her students kept going on about.

Chewing thoughtfully, Dax found said Hot Pocket to taste like of mixture of cardboard, chemicals, and stale fungi. The scientist was so busy wondering what would tempt today's young people into such a culinary mishap, she barely noticed that her hair was twisting into an elaborate updo. Her sensible working boots were changing into very suggestive heels. Her clothing itself was shrinking into something....not at all work appropriate.By the time the transformation was complete, Dax wasn't the least bit concerned with her appearance. No. What she was concerned

[parlulilaloo]

Oh my! Not annulments! And they'd been having so much fun.

Luckily, Jack's Hot Pocket had taken things off the edge. Not that he had any idea what a Hot Pocket was, but it DID look like a rather sumptuous lump of bread. They did not live up to their wondrous outer appeal, dammit, magma hot inside! He'd absolutely destroyed his tongue. Thank God for Hot Pockets. At least... for Special Hot Pockets.

Yes, Jack was quite apparently stoned. Very stoned. You could probably throw a Frisbee through his pupils if you really tried.

"Your dress, darling, it is so... very..." Oh, jeez, what was the word? Damn. Um. "Leggy." Good enough. "I do like spots." He wanted to touch them. That feather duster seemed worlds of foreboding, however. "Ah, marriage! Right! We are... not. No more."

[daxtastic]

Jack! Despite her mind being on much more important things, like the cobwebs lurking in every corner, Dax was still pleased to see her former-husband. Surely he could aid in her crusade against dust!

"I know," Dax said, pouting. "But you vill still 'elp me keep zis place clean, yes?" She clasped his hands with her own, and batted her eyelashes. "For old time's sake?"

[parlulilaloo]

...What a strange accent! Funny. And French-like. Jack resisted more urge to feel the dots, instead, looking very pointedly down to their hands, for a few lo~ong seconds.

Oh! Right! Speaking! A concept not all too foreign to him! "I... yes! Cleaning? Wait." What was the answer to go with here. Banana squared. Hahaha. Er, anyway. "Yes! I will!" And may or may not have attempted a bow that ended up with his head knocking somewhere amongst her breasts. Same difference, really.