The Doorway: a panfandom game

The Youth Center downstairs is just so disorganized since everyone keeps getting sent back. Apparently, in another life, I was a youth director for a space cruiser. Maybe that's a sign.

FILTERED TO THE MIDDLEMAN:

You are just full of surprises, aren't you?

As attested in various musicals, books, films and other sundry 'works of art', I've a rather prodigious ability to get lost inside my own head. And it's not so much lost as it is thoroughly captivated by one idea or another that lends itself to another, then builds upon a foundation which yields to the combined strength of the twinned ideas whilst the other strikes bricks into the wall. I'm a bit early for post-Modernism, is all, and I prefer seeing connections where-ever I go.

That said: I've determined that the small not-for-profit which was started as a way to bring help to those affected by the human bombings needs a grander scope. I've a patron of a not entirely ill repute who promises that there are no strings attached and given that, I've applied for a business license. People are still hurting, they still need us. So, I suppose (with a smile) I shall put my shoulder to the wheel. As ever I have.

Roman skulls unearthed deep beneath London.

When we're caught in the grips of our own daily little inanities, it's very hard to think about the sedimentary layers of civilization which lies directly beneath our feet. A little bone, a little clay pottery ... it's all that's left of a thriving civilization which once hung the heads of its foes on pikes outside the city walls.

If we were to dig up the streets of Paris, would the old broken wi
Would my own skull

It's good to know something persists.

Voyager 1 has left the solar system.

Oops, no it hasn't.

I think we could settle this with the headline "Voyager 1 Has Gone Really Fucking Far."

[Filtered to Henri]

Hey. You.

To those who have made their arrival in New York City upon this night, I offer my glad tidings and salutations. If you find yourselves in need of ways in which to employ your time while you are becoming accustomed to the year or the culture, my friends and I work with and have organized several charitable and educational outcomes which would be happy to have you.

We cannot pay you for your time but I assure you that the payment you will receive in great dividends includes laying up treasures in your heart as you seek to bend your backs and your collective wills to helping those of us that our less fortunate.

That being said: I know that I have a history and a reputation for ripping up paving stones but I am told that several streets sustained damage in the fighting which occurred due to the fear gas. Because of my knees I do not think it would be a good idea to bend my back to the task as once I did but in celebration of Labor Day I am most willing to first take food to our intrepid city workers and then at least provide them some break from their day.

If you would like to join me, meet in the lobby tomorrow morning at 6:00 AM.

In the past seven days, I've had a three-day weekend and a three-day week. Tuesday I lost somewhere between West 52nd and Bryant Park. I dedicate it to the workers. I have no real notion of what work entails, precisely, but as the only thing of value I possess is time (and never do a damned thing with any of it) I have to imagine it's better off in someone else's hands. I have nothing; I give all. I am the most generous and the least lavish. I'm a boy with a wooden shoe.

But not a very good boy with a wooden shoe, as I'd have much preferred to give them Saturday. I only slept through half of Saturday, and as far as I can tell it was the better half.

The last time I was completely without the TARDIS I did get a rather nifty car. I'll have to talk to these SHIELD fellows about Bessie 2.0. I will definitely have to stick with the yellow color.

Hello alternate earth! This is rather exciting. Superheroes? Always liked those. Always exciting to read about anyway.

It's interesting how they say they're celebrating labor today, but it's only the people with desk and government jobs who seem to have it off.

TEXT TO LISBETH SALANDER:

» 26 august, if you haven't got plans
» you do now :)

Delivery For:

Oscar François de Jarjayes Basil Hallward Dorian Gray Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Don Draper Clara Oswald Pepper Potts & Tony Stark (MCU) Peggy Carter & Stephen Dedalus Henri Combeferre Septimus Smith & Isabel Pole Thor & Jane Foster Rupert Giles Dr. Stephen Strange

Lady Door Albus Dumbledore Severus Snape Mycroft Holmes Gregory House James Wilson Contessa Valentina Allegra de Fontaine Wesley Wyndam-Pryce Armand Chauvelin Simon Grantaire & Denis Enjolras George Oscar Bluth, II April Ludgate-Dwyer Henry Sturges

(OOC: If you're friendly with either one of the Blakeneys, assume you also got an invitation -- it's my oversight! Not Marguerite's! A few people on this list (Contessa, GOB, April) received invitations because Marguerite thought your name sounded fancy (and because I thought it was kind of funny to invite GOB). You can all RSVP IC to this post!)

( AN INVITATION! )

TEXT TO COMBEFERRE:

» Fear not
» For behold
» I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be unto
» All people
» A towel can be used as a blanket

The last time I took a bath was on Saturday, June 8th.

I may never take one again.


[FILTER: Enjolras & Combeferre]

This morning, I dreamed that you both had joined a Benedictine monastery in Madrid and left me your entire collection of shirt collars.

Please check in. If you fail to respond, I shall assume your vow of silence prevents you from doing so and will mount a rescue effort.

And fie on your collars.

[Filtered to Tony Stark (616)]

Are you done saving the world?

[ETA: Filtered to Henri]

I need to borrow your butterfly.

As much as I know there is a sincere little cabal in this tower who believes that I am incapable of fun and amusement, I should think this is no time for fun that ensuring the children de-homed by the bombing in Batignolles were able to find their own diversion was amusement enough for me.

All my love and appreciation to those of you who are assisting and donating your time to our crisis center I spoke of in my last entry. You're already touching lives and I do promise you that the warmth you show to 'the least of these' will not go unnoticed or unsung. People and fed and clothed, children are smiling and life is going on, bit by bit.

( Cut for Images, not filtered )

On June 25th, the district of Paris so lovingly committed to canvas in those paintings above was attacked, the bomber and nine civilians died, many were wounded and for many more still -- gone are the days when les Batignolles was a peaceful, quiet neighbourhood cloaked in the culture and warmth of those who lived and worked there. Batignolles is now a battlefield. It is a place where people lost their lives in another struggle against injustice. It is a battlefield where once again the lives of individuals become expendable in the face of tyranny.

I entreat you to not leave these men, women and children to die in vain. Stop this senselessness. Do as and what you can for this victims of these cowardly attacks. Rise against those who rule by fear, stand -- and if you cannot help bring him to justice than take the hand of your neighbour and do for them what you would have someone do for you because there is no better way to undo fear than with compassion.

Tomorrow, you will celebrate this country. For some of you, it is and has always been your home -- for those like me, it is a new but warm and welcoming place that I have grown to love already, in my months here. But tomorrow, as you raise your glasses to toast the United States, remember that she is a country not defined by her leaders, or her armies, her governments or her churches -- but by each person and every person -- rich, poor, of any nationality or religion, clergy or criminal.

Take their hands.

Who: Henri Combeferre, Stephen Dedalus, Denis Enjolras, and Simon Grantaire
When: After the Paris bombings
Where: A grimy little brasserie in the Av. de Clichy, Paris
What: Surveying the aftermath of the attack - from a distance
Rating: Low
Status: Gdoc, in progress


( Drink with me to days gone by )

There's nothing more satisfying than nailing an asshole who's plotting to permanently silence his mistress.

Well, almost nothing.

Yesterday, Batignolles, the 17th arrondissement of Paris was attacked. While details and speculation are still flashing across the news, what is known is that it was a suicide mission, and that at least ten people are dead. Ten innocent people. My Paris is no stranger to this brand of violence. In February and September of 1986, Paris bombings killed hundreds, during the second World War 68,778 civilians were killed in France by Allied and German bombs. Before explosives, there were guns and bayonets and guillotines. Before that...

I understand that the payment for change and progression is blood. I understand that that is how it has always been and as much as I hoped and believed and prayed for change, it is not yet that perfect world without death that we are living in now.

But one citizen's death is too many. There are those who give their lives and those willing to lay down for the greater good of the people at his back, but life should not be taken, should not be stolen from the men, women and children who have done nothing wrong. And while I can, and do, advocate the need for more walls to be taken down and more freedoms be awarded to all people regardless of race, creed or income -- the cities of tomorrow can not be built on the skeletons of innocent citizens as those before have been.

And whoever is responsible is not innovative, is not glorious and is not enlightened. The deaths of innocent people have branded him a coward, regardless of his goals, and if I had the opportunity I would execute him myself.

TEXT TO LISBETH SALANDER:

» you saw that, didn't you? the broadcast.
» anything from your contacts? the equipment? any word?

I understand that I don't have the touchstones (in this world) to recognise or respond to potential threats in the way that some of the residents of this tower -- particularly if these residents have 'super powers' and are accustomed to battling overblown rhetoric and violent imagery with any regularity -- but I do know a terrorist when I see one. I do understand what it means to be a connoisseur of fear and to have such self-aggrandised delusions regarding oneself that they overtake all of the airwaves ...

But -- hear me out, here.

There is a point. As much as I rail against being called a lamb, there is a purpose to making this society think on its sins. I would hazard to say that this person will get there eventually. I hope it's sooner rather than later.

Still and yet. We've every reason to listen.

Perhaps.