The Doorway: a panfandom game

Esteemed Residents of Potts Tower, I require your help in corrected a grave injustice.

One of our own, my friend Phoebe Halliwell, is employed by the New York Times, and is experiencing a great difficulty at work. It appears her editor is inappropriately censoring her work as an advice columnist. He is limited they type and topics for which she is able to give advice on. This is censorship in its highest form, and I do not believe it should be tolerated.

I would like to organise I letter-writing campaign in protest. As I believe that the purpose of an advice column is to respond to the reader's requests and not, as it were, to only publish what the editor himself is seeking advice on. If you are able to pen a letter to aid in this endeavour, it would be incredibly appreciated by both her and myself. For more information on the nature of this problem, you may seek answers from our conversation on the subject here or ask either her or myself.

Sincerely,
Ichabod Crane.

I hate people right now.....I really do.

My congradulations to the Tony Stark who managed to shoot me. Your a better marksmen than the whole of Cornwallis's regiment.

I am very pleased that Abbie and I were able to return to New York in time for the event, as last Wednesday we took a trip to Philadelphia to witness the groundbreaking for the future location of the American Revolution that it being constructed. It seems that in the future collection, George Washington's tent will be on display, which I would very much like to see. My initials were drawn into Washington's tent back in my place of origin, and I wish to see what decorates their space in this universe.

It can't be stranger than what the "reenactment" soldiers I encountered considered to be authentic costuming. We did not have StarkPhones stuck in the pocket of our trousers -- nor did we have zippers, for that matter. They are certainly lucky Detective Mills was there to remind me to pick my battles, or I might have given them a forceful demonstration on just how one is expected to charge with a bayonet.


Source

Ummm okay....that was a weird interaction.

Internet,

while I understand that you are a demanding and fickle mistress with unreliable Y-Fi, your indecisiveness regarding whether or not a page can be found, and your All-Seeing Google.

But I have out irrigated your unsophisticated frat boys a number of times, and I meant only to look up museums in New York.

Will someone please offer their assistance tell me how to be rid of them?

Sincerely,
Ichabod Crane

While admittedly I, myself, am all too often quite intrigued by the unforgiving speed of contemporary life I cannot help but scoff at the notion of speed dating. As a whole, does courtship mean nothing to you? After all, I st

Such as is the case, I wish you well in the three minutes you give yourself to find love. Perhaps you shall prove me quite wrong.

Let it be known, the scanning of documents for digital archiving is a wonderful thing. And if I had the opportunity in the eighteenth century to share information as you share it now, I wonder if the Revolution would have been won far more swiftly. Extremely doubtful, but

However. Please, do, write your thoughts down. And do not rely solely on the electronic-nature of your social world or its ability to hold and capture your creative mind. I should think that parch
vellu paper is a far worthier medium.

Gonna learn about this Captain America! I don't think I know the same stories anymore. Kind of weird, huh? Like he's here, but not the same one exactly. Everything's all familiar, but not.

And I'd forgotten how much I hate long bus trips. LALA, at least there's cell service. I'm not sure how long my battery will last today though. Gotta make sure to save some for the way back.

EMMA SWAN, KILLIAN JONES, CORA AMELL:

Jet lag's a bitch. I'm back from Italy, and I come bearing gifts.

ICHABOD CRANE:

You've always wanted to help catch a vampire, right? It's your lucky day.

For open discussion, given the season and the estimable tenor of hysteria in this known world:

Last night heralded the beginning of the Jewish holy time known as Passover, in which it is commemorated that while in Egypt, the Death Angel passed over the houses of the faithful who painted their lintels with lambs' blood.

Last night also heralded the first lunar eclipse in a series known as the tetrad; of which several lunar eclipses shall follow. The next is scheduled for 8 October. Further, last night's eclipse was - as the word goes - a 'blood moon'.

Fundamentalist evangelizer John Hagee purports that such signs herald the End of Days. He points to the timing of said tetrad, and the timing of the last which occured during the Six Day War in 1967. Acts 2:19 - "And I will show wonders in Heaven above and signs in the Earth beneath, the sun shall be turned into darkness and the moon into blood before the coming of the great and awesome day of the Lord."

TEXT TO ICHABOD CRANE:

-- You feeling okay?

TEXT TO ICHABOD CRANE:

-- Have you heard from Jenny lately?

If there is a coup to be staged or a revolution to be had, I might hope in the future that my fellows here in the Tower might be sporting about it and include the rest of us.

Notwithstanding, of course, the ability to pre-determine our desire to take part in said coup. But owing to the fact that we are (generally speaking) all heroic-persuaded, I should think it would be some good work.

I know it's been told that revenge is a dish best served cold. And as this is the case, my revenge was 250 years in the making. I am not ashamed.

[EMMA & CORA]

I've spent a great deal of time thinking on not only what you said but the timeliness of how you said it. The two of you, in lock-step, seem to be quite possible of completely bowling me over. Now I shall be honest with you.

My feelings for Abbie - as ridiculous as I find this sentence - are as intimate and depthy as I am quite sure you imagine. We are one, she and I. And I was quite free to choose my friendship with her not because of any prophecy (though it was driven by it) but due to our connection.

However, ladies. I should like you to realise I am not a man who can easily set aside promises. My wife - though she is not here - lives, if the Horseman has not oh god killed her already. And Abbie deserves - Abbie should have - a companion free of such intricate failings. I hasten to add that you should press her in this direction.

I love her enough to know that I am not the best choice for her. Not in the way you expect or perhaps even hope.

[ALEX VAUSE + OTHER REFUGEE LIAISON EMPLOYEES]

I know we lost quite a lot in the midst of the raid. But if you've enough ink and parchment, I can set to recouping for you.

Had I the time - or the inkling that I wouldn't have had the time - in my youth, I should have liked to travel. It might shock some to know that in my day, rather, I was known to be a bit of an upstart rebel. And as such, I was wholly fascinated by Shrovetide (particularly the Carnivalesque nature it took below the skirt in Brazil and other such nations).

And in 250 years, my fascination has not waned. Had I more capital, I would have perhaps traveled to New Orleans to partake in the atmosphere. That being said, I will not allow a lack of funding to keep my curiosity at bay. Instead of flying, I shall simply have to imagine. As that is so, I have determined to go to the Village Pourhouse for said celebrations.

If any should like to join with me, they are most welcome.

To the Rising Tide and to their faceless eagle-sporting foes I offer these small quotations regarding the symbolism of the eagle versus the symbolism of the turkey for this, our great United States, from my friend and comrade Mr. Benjamin Franklin:

"For my own part I wish the Bald Eagle had not been chosen the Representative of our Country. He is a Bird of bad moral Character. He does not get his Living honestly. You may have seen him perched on some dead Tree near the River, where, too lazy to fish for himself, he watches the Labour of the Fishing Hawk; and when that diligent Bird has at length taken a Fish, and is bearing it to his Nest for the Support of his Mate and young Ones, the Bald Eagle pursues him and takes it from him."

"I am on this account not displeased that the Figure is not known as a Bald Eagle, but looks more like a Turkey. For the Truth the Turkey is in Comparison a much more respectable Bird, and withal a true original Native of America... He is besides, though a little vain & silly, a Bird of Courage, and would not hesitate to attack a Grenadier of the British Guards who should presume to invade his Farm Yard with a red Coat on."

Perhaps the lesson is is that one should not be surprised an organisation sporting an eagle on the door of their vehicle is of an allegedly less than savoury nature. For my part? I wouldn't mind meeting one of them.

Oh good. The machines have gone back to their normal confusing selves minus the talking.

I had a fairly good conversation with the oven clock yesterday too.

Είμαι ένας ανυπόφορος άνθρωπος.
Καταχραστώ το Google Translate.

My name is Oliver Queen and would someone like to explain to me how the hell I got here? While we're at it, what is this stuff about being a fictional character from a TV show? None of this makes sense.

Okay, so that was interesting. My refrigerator just told me that it's "seen things, terrible things," and that I should be ashamed of myself.