The Doorway: a panfandom game

New York summers are always so hazy; the air's thick with water and pollution and the concrete makes for a pizza stone under your feet. I'd be lying if I said I didn't love it, but it gets a little same-samey after a while. I've already pulled a vacation with Sara earlier in the summer so stuck I am until the weather decides to back off.

The ennui with my current employment doesn't help. Art restoration in the wake of an alien attack sounds Very Important, but I've been on the same tapestry for three weeks now - the same panel of the same tapestry, point of fact, and while unicorns are lovely creatures, I'm going to hang myself with my needle if this doesn't start to progress any faster. Where are the simple crimes of yesteryear? I realize we've got more superheroes in Potts Tower than the Forces of Good know what to do with, but c'mon. Those with a philosophical bent can argue over whether good guys are even necessary when in such abundance. I'm bored. Do you know what happens when I'm bored? Peter worries more, first of all, and then a lot of circumstantial evidence piles up and I'm wearing orange again.

The MoMA uses RBAC for the delivery parking level (for those of you with an allergy to acronyms: Museum of Modern Art and Role-Based Access Control).

RBAC. In this day and age. And a closed-circuit feed.

The front of the museum's decked out, of course, with all that's new and shiny. But the back? Where the exhibits are shipped out? You might as well say "pretty please" and you're in.




Peter, you'd better be glad that the MoMA wasn't in my radius at the start of our parternship.

[ Filtered to Clara Oswald ]

The Tesseract continues to thwart - it's taken Peter's wife, so I'm going to do the Best Friend thing this weekend and try to keep him from crying over his instant waffles (no one wants to see that). Didn't want you thinking I'd stood you up after I said I might go to the prom.

Have a good time; don't do anything I wouldn't.

[ /Filter ]

[ Filtered to Sadie ]

Going to Boston. Any requests for souvenirs? No art, I'm going with the leash.

[ /Filter ]

>> We're going to Boston this weekend.

Honestly, can anybody in this city actually make decent Mexican food? Really, what kind of excuses do you have when this country neighbors Mexico, and that's not even discounting the fact that this is New York. You'd think I've have arrived in 1775, what with my demands for a burrito that didn't come from Taco Bell or Chipotle. (And a word to the wise: don't come here in 1775. It's a shitshow and I actually had to get a smallpox vaccination. Ugh, colonists.)

Look, I get that I could simply hit up any restaurant in Chelsea or god forbid -- a street cart, but having just flown in from Europe, I've already tired of Italian, French, and Greek. Don't even get me started on British food.

All right then. Who's in need of a prom date? I've never been to a prom, and it certainly sounds like as good an excuse as any to get dolled up and dance like an idiot. Who wants to go with me?

Mother's Day! While I'm sure that the majority of you have tragic backstories that would prevent you from fully-appreciating the holiday, those few of you who do have mothers, mother-figures, and people-who-are-like-mothers-to-you present in this world had better pony up and make them feel special. Absolutely no excuse.

In keeping with this post's theme, my favorite depiction of the Madonna and Child:

( Cut for size: The Virgin with the Laughing Child, 1465 )

One of my favorites by virtue of how unique it is. How many depictions of the baby Christ have you seen where he appears to be a miniature adult, austere and collected? All of them, right? However, this sculpture done by Antonio Rossellino near the birth of the Renaissance shows a much more natural, almost private moment between the Virgin mother and the infant. As you might expect, it was extremely controversial in its time. Some considered it blasphemous. Fine hairline fractures exist near the Virgin's cloak from where someone attempted to dash it upon the cathedral floor. Thankfully, no significant damage was done to this work. I can attest that it's in beautiful shape these days, and much more appreciated by its audience.

This is not to say that I'm in love with most of the work I've seen out there, but I find all the opportunities for those to make money selling their version art to be truly impressive in comparison to my own time. At first I thought that in a way this cheapened the value of a good piece, given that there is now so much out there to consider, but looking back I realized that just such a reason may even increase the amount of satisfaction to be felt when you find something truly worth admiring.

You're all murderers, aren't you?

It's an unsettling thought, when you realise that you've killed fewer people than the majority of your neighbours, and they all seem to think the murders they committed were justifiable. I wonder what the total body count for Tower Residents is -- not even including the recent vampire massacres.


[Tony Stark]
((a continuation of Dorian and Tony's #RealTalk started Here))

The trouble is, Tony, that when it comes to murdering seven billion people, or anyone, it isn't about what's right or wrong -- it's about choosing a side. You might imagine that you're doing the right thing for the people you care about, but that's all. You're never going to get a divine moment, you're never going to know for certain if you ever did the right thing and the consequences of your actions may very well reach on long after you die.

Morality, like art, means drawing a line someplace -- All it is, all it's ever been, is the ability to be unwavering. There is no right and there is no wrong, there is only movement forward. People live, people die and they always have. You've played a role in that, so have I and so has nearly everyone else here. There are really only two kinds of people, those that live and those that exist. Those that live are the ones who get to make decisions, to experience the light and darkness in themselves, that paint and play and create. To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all -- and those that do, the world happens to them. You can argue about their opportunities or lack thereof until you're blue in the face, but the truth is still that the choice was never theirs -- it was always yours because you earned it and because you took it. All you can do, Tony, is give it up. Give up living, give up the position you put yourself in and go work for one of those companies that'll pay you desperate amounts of money. Or don't. Continue to choose a side, continue to take lives in the interest of helping others, continue to let your ego rule you -- if that's what you want to do.

It's about drawing a line someplace -- but the line isn't drawn in deciding who to kill, it's long before that. You chose trump, deaths are just following suit.

It is curious to know what you would look like had you lived had the opportunity. I suppose I'm getting used to it rather easily.

By the bye, this is Septimus.

Bast! Bast something's wrong where are you?!

Well, it's no Jolly Roger... But it'll work in a pinch. And it would get me out of this blasted building for more than just work

Now accepting donations.

Peggy's gone.

Thought everyone should know.

[ Filtered to Peter & El ]

Sara's gone.

Before you ask, I'm fine. Another day, another dropping shoe.

[ /Filter ]

So these vampires. Their skin isn't actually worth anything, right? All this talk about diamonds is strictly rooted in simile.

[Filtered to El]

You know, you'd be perfect for the Business Manager position. Helping kids, fundraising. It sounds right up your alley.

[End Filter]

[Filtered to Neal]>

Neal. Please, please tell me that you were joking about Dorian Gray's portrait. I was sick, so I wasn't fully up to answering that question, and it's been plaguing me since. Tell me the idea has worn off since you were on vacation. There's a difference between stealing something from--

I can't believe I'm at a point where I'm justifying theft. Never mind. I'm going back to work.

[End Filter]

Today is Administrative Professionals' Day, as some of you may know, and there's a good number of people working in this position at both the FBI and, as I understand it, at SHIELD. I really want to work at SHI These are people who, day to day, perform a lot of grueling and thankless tasks and without which everything in business would grind to a halt. I am thankful for each of you every day, but I'd like to take a moment to tell you all how much your efforts mean to me. So, thank you.

TO: Peter Burke
FROM: Neal Caffrey
SUBJECT: Important Inquiry Within

Hello Peter!

I hope you're feeling better. I'm still having a wonderful time in paradise. I can't imagine how terrible it must be to be sick while your BFF canoodles around Europe without a care in the world. It's awful. I bought you a pen.

So. On a scale of "irritated yet reluctantly proud" to "instant jail and abandonment", where would stealing Dorian Gray's portrait fall?

Don't hold back.

Time for more carefree entertainment and gorgeous scenery. Ciao!

N.

While the art store is always exceedingly peaceful, the morning shift is downright worshipful. The sun bars in through the windows warming the stock room and I, perched on one ladder or another, catalog and fill the shelves with what will one day be the stuff of other worlds. Even the cabs are quiet - not yet filling the street with the ire - and if I stand still, I can hear the doves calling to one another in the rafters. Maybe even a sparrow who trills, waiting for his beloved to return to the nest.

As it is, I am exceedingly prone to enjoy my morning shifts. I did not experience such peace in Sibleys - always the hawking of wares, there - but perhaps I have a comparable experience. Mist (or phosgene - but let's say mist) hung on the trenches those early spring mornings. Before the Morning Hate - just after being roused for inspection - the thrushes would swarm the pitiful trunks of the trees that stood sentinel in No Man's Land. Sometimes, I'd close my eyes and listen to that song and imagine myself somewhere else.

Home in Shropshire, maybe. Or in some Thracian glen. I even imagined myself as John on the Heath, waiting for Fanny to come home. I never imagined an art supply store in New York City. Sometimes, we've got to be prepared to be surprised.

But really I'm writing to ask all of you if you received (or saw) the flier inviting we refugees to a charity gathering at a church? A dark haired woman was handing them out ... I saw her in Sam's when I stopped to pick up lunch. She seemed nice, if a bit circumspect.

“The reason is that all you know about me is what I have written so far; it has nothing to do with what I want to do next, because I don’t know, either.”

My dearest and sincerest apologies to those who had to witness last night's troubles. I truthfully did not intend to cause anyone any strife, or upset because of my silly laments. I would also like to apologise on behalf of Harry Potter, because while I did take what he said as a threat, and he never denied it was so until he was in trouble for it, I think it is of the utmost importance that we do our very best to get along in these strange circumstances. He does not, in my opinion, represent all of those from his world -- as individuality must never be lost -- I only hope that no one now feels unsafe alongside him.

And remember, after all, so many of you are sick, I suppose it's safe to assume Harry might be literally, not figuratively, hot-headed; perhaps running a high fever.

If anyone needs anything, I'm rather immune to illness and could certainly fetch for them what they require.

[Ginny]

I hope the chocolates pleased you, I thought it might be the best thing, and I'm dreadfully sorry for any personal upset I caused you. Do let me know if there is anything else I can do for you especially.

Sara and I are currently in Ravello, and we absolutely don't want to come back. I'm no stranger to dodging customs, but unfortunately, I think we're going to do the legal thing and come back to New York before our tourist Visas expire.

Here are some photographs of our trip: ( under a cut )

There are worse views to wake up to.