PARADISA LOST

[a very loud, high-pitched, sustained beep sounds over the journals, in lieu of the usual music]

This is NOT a test of the Emergency Broadcast System, we've got a problem on our hands. In case anyone hasn't noticed, THERE IS A FUCKING DRAGON OUTSIDE WRECKING SHIT. I'm broadcasting from the Doc's TARDIS, and if you can't get there, get to the basement ... If walls start comin' down, you all oughta get your asses somewhere safe.

If you need an escort, lemme know and I'll have someone from the Peace Patrol come get you... I've got more news for all of you, but uh, it's gonna hafta wait until later. For now, get your asses to safety!!

[this Monday evening finds peppy music jumping out of the journal, and soon enough, your resident DJ's voice rises up above it, mingled in with the sounds of a crowd:]

Heeeeey, everybody! Hope you've worked off those Christmas hangovers, because it's 10 PM, and that means it's time for your weekly peek at the pulse of Paradisa! This is Hard Harry, comin' at you LIVE from Le Beat on the Left Bank! That's right, yours truly's got himself a bonafide payin' job, and I gotta say, it's rockin' pretty fucking hard right about now. Anyone else still lovin' their assigned life, or are you ready for the good old daily grind to come and break you into tiny sheep-shaped pieces again?

[he stops for a second to take a swig of soda and fade in a new track from the DJ booth]

Everyone give a nice "Bonsoir" to our new kids: Claudia, Rin and Len, Flynn, and Mycroft and Anthea.

Also, hey, a belated happy birthday to Will. And just a reminder... anyone who needs advice or whatever can write in to a friend of mine at Le Monde - just address it to Ask Phoebe.

Now that we've got the business end of things out of the way, let's move it on to the rumor mill! I've heard it through the grapevine in a couple of places that ... some people are coming back and remembering having been here. People that've just been ... living here in Paris. Scuse me if I'm wrong, but that just sounds totally out of line with everything we know about this place. Think Paradisa's got a glitch, you guys? Or is this its idea of a fucked-up Christmas present? Let's hear some theories, everyone, c'mon, let's go!

[Peace Patrol]

So guys! Uh, HI, GOOD MORNING, I've seen at least TWO of the people we had locked up dictating something along the lines of "YAY I'M FREE" in the journals. Are we DOING anything about this? I mean, are we sure they're gonna get kicked back into their cells when we get back? Whenever that is?

[/Patrol]

((OOC: It's Hard Harry's last hurrah in Paris! Come hang out at the club? :D))

[ten PM, as usual. Harry lets "Everybody Knows" run through the intro, and about halfway through the first line before he cuts it off. he's eager to get started, tonight....]

So, uh, hey, here's food for thought for all of you Paradisans. According to the admittance records for the clinic, last week they took in an unconscious patient named Thomas Elliot. [there's a rustle of papers]

The admitting, Dr. John Watson, says here he was admitted with ... well, I can't pronounce some of this, and I don't wanna bore you all, but he was beat up pretty fuckin' bad. He also had a gunshot wound to the shoulder. And I'm pretty sure nobody down in the City Royale has guns, folks.

Now: here's the kicker:

Yours truly has been through the floor map on CastleNet five times, and he ain't on there. So, that begs the question: are we taking in townspeople now? Because last I checked, they had their own damn hospital.

Talk amongst yourselves. And say hi to our fresh new faces if you feel like it. They ARE on CastleNet, and their names are Ran, Tim, Balthazar, Rarity, Ezio, Tomoe, Renee, Kermit, and Catelyn.

We also had a guy named Numair, but ... when I was checking through the 'Net again today, he wasn't there anymore. So, that kinda makes me wonder what's the shortest amount of time anyone's lasted, here ...

Oh, and before you go and call me out? I didn't forget last week's promise.

[and this week, you all get to enjoy the dulcet tones of the Chipmunks' original Christmas album. the whole thing. HOORAY.]

[Generic All-Purpose Anti-First Gens/Sympathizers Filter]

[your weekly broadcast is back to manageable volumes, this week, Paradisans. how are your eardrums healing? Leonard Cohen's gravelly rumble comes drifting out of the pages of the journals, and Harry lets it play for a little bit before crossfading into something else to play while he talks]

Heeeeeey, kids, welcome back to another Monday with your favorite resident loudmouth, Hard Harry. Sounds like we've got the show back on track this week, all your usual features and creatures. For our new fresh faces out there in Castle Wonderfuck, a big warm, uncomfortable, up-in-your-personal-space welcome to Greg, Mindfang, JJ, Dave Strider, John Watson, Haibara, M'Gann, Karkat, Renji, Merlin, Azazeal, and River. I know a few of you are comin' back to crazy town for your second or third run, so hey, you're welcome for the memories you don't have. If you ever wondered where the fuck deja vu comes from, this is prrrrrobably it.

Now, on to the meat and potatoes of things, the part where I sit here and talk about how none of you ever do jack shit about what goes on around --

Wait.

Wait, what's this? What's this?! People taking initiative? People discussing what actually happened? We've got Carolina organizing emergency plan groups! Arthur's looking for volunteers to help create safe havens! We've got the Peace Patrol starting to get its shit together! We've got other people like Sherlock and Tesla getting just as steamed about all of this as yours truly -- and on top of it all, Sylvanas may as well have just given us all a giant collective pat on the ass for not completely turning into blubbering idiots!

HO-LEEEEE SHIT, everybody. Hold on, I think I -- yes -- wait -- what's that sound?!

[and this comes rolling out of his stereo into the journal, not quite as loud as last week's broadcast, but still pretty loud]

God help me, I think this flock might be breakin' itself up after all! Marie Antoinette painted her sheep, yaknow. Every day. She'd have her maids paint 'em to match the color of whatever dress she was wearin'.

You might still be sheep, for the most part, but I'll be damned if some of you haven't started pickin' out your own warpaint. If you're still stuck on what to do, ask one of those fine folks I pointed out earlier, they're still lookin' for help. Keep it up, kids, and I'll see you next week.

[there's the scratch of a needle and ... well, something that's not Leonard Cohen starts playing.]

Wait a second. The fuck? --- But this is my ---

[Mark picks the record up off the turntable, checks it --]

Okay, the castle's fucking with my records. This is NOT cool. ... I know I haven't taken this record off the goddamn turntable since I GOT here, and suddenly it ain't Leonard Cohen anymore. Doesn't even SAY "I'm Your Man" on the label. .... Eh, nothin' to do but roll with it, I guess.

[he puts it back on. it'll continue, in the background, as he goes about his business. anyone listening closely might notice a theme in the lyrics, though ... two words that've been cropping up increasingly]

First off, the ol' weekly Welcome To Castle Wonderfuck greeting goes out to Kaito, Cole, and Carolina! You've got a couple weeks to dig your toes in before we start getting zombie turkeys or possessed cranberry ooze invading our rooms, so get right on that, would'ja? I don't wanna hear you all whinin' about how you can't take it. I'm a vet, now, been here nearly a year. And if I can make it through all this crazy, fucked-up bullshit, SO CAN YOU!

In more mundane news, someone's starting a Boys' Detective Club... and the Host Club was taking auditions last week. So ladies, you'll probably have all new hunks of cheesecake to drool over the next time they open the ballroom doors. Please. Drool responsibly. Bring napkins. None of us want to have to clean up after you.


So! Guy Fawkes night! I gotta tell you, the British sure know how the hell to put together a holiday! How about that, huh? First we built little straw men, then we built bonfires, and then we SET 'EM ALL ON FIRE! My kinda' day, if you ask me! Yours truly used up his share of sparklers and chucked a good number of little straw men into the fire. My personal favorite was the little wicker castle I made, but I'm sure you all had your own personal little homages to be made... if you made one of those little dudes, what'd he end up lookin' like? Your ex? Your parents? Some jackass back home that had it comin' to him? Or were you so fulla self-loathing that you made a little mini you?! Honestly, that might not be such a bad idea.

Lotsa places burn their land after they farm it so the grass can grow back greener for th' next year ... I remember learnin' that in social studies. -- Hey, gold star for Harry, he's actually using his mainstream education! -- But think of it this way: f'you burn up some little model of yourself, it could be like, I dunno, burnin' up everything you don't like about yourself so you can start fresh. Make a better start of it. .... And isn't that kinda what some people are doin' here, anyway?

Food for thought. Just don't overeat, kids. The mental equivalent of a stomachache is a bitch. Just sayin'.

[ten PM sees the castle being serenaded by the usual song - but it's a cover, this time - a woman's lilt instead of Leonard Cohen's gravelly rumble]

Hey, folks, it's that time again. This is Hard Harry comin' at you with a fistful of this week's sticky scoop on life in Castle Wonderfuck. Apparently, the place has turned itself into the Far East for however fucking long. Guess we all gotta start reading up on Indian horror stories? As long as the cows don't start attacking us, I think I'll be good. And hey, even if we do? Free sacred cheeseburgers. Moo moo moo, motherfuckers. [Harry snickers and lights up a cigarette, spinning around in his chair. once he's taken a drag, he sets it in his ashtray, then picks up the pouch of caisos he found on his dresser and starts tossing it up and down in time with the music. clink, clink]

I think my question for the week is, who's got the best batshit meteor loss story? That seems to have been last week's running topic of discussion, so I think we should turn tonight into the Greatest Hits. And I'm not talking angst fodder, I'm talking, you saw someone make a complete idiot out of themselves. The kind of shit that gets photos in the yearbook. Or would if we had one.

New people! We got a lot of those this week, didn't we? A tip of the hat I'm not wearin' to Elrond, Aveline, Bethany, Steve, Castiel, Ryotaro, Noble Six, Xena, Geoffrey, andBucky! Also, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think a couple of the random people that showed up during all that meteor craziness stuck around, too. ....

So, let's hear it, folks! Stories, questions, comments, concerns. Random castle hatred binges. Whatever's on your mind, hit me with it. That's why I sit on my ass in this spinny chair once a week, ain't it? Let's go!

( Mr. First Place ... aka Gabriel )

Soooo, happy Monday, kids, and welcome back to your weekly edition of the Happy Harry Hard-On Show. We had some technical difficulties last week, otherwise known as LEAVES FUCKING EVERYWHERE, as I'm sure you're all aware. But we're over that now, and ready to broadcast to you live from a shiny new station location. Everybody knows where everybody's at, now, right? If you don't, check out that nice little miracle of technology and time wasting we like to call CastleNet. York was kind enough to donate what semblance of a life he could've had here to update it for us all, so if you're still wanderin' around campin' in the halls, looking for where all your shit went? Look no further.

Before I start gettin' on the box of soap I picked for this week, just for YOU guys .... let's give a shout out to all our new arrivals, shall we? A warm, Harry welcome to Kuchiha, Tess, Elena, Katherine, Gino, Mai, and Loki, Arya, Tamaki, and Yosuke! I know a couple've you've been here before, so extra condolences from me to you, you poor bastards.

I've heard all the bitching and the moaning, but is there any good new stuff I haven't been clued in on yet? Like, I dunno, did we get another season in the Beach room? Is there a random playground in an empty room somewhere? Or maybe the castle opened a pizza place? Because damn, right about now I could really go for a pizza at a pizza place. Anyone else ever notice that wishin' up somethin' isn't necessarily always the same as gettin' it the way you used to back home? Pizza's a pretty damn good example. If you found the right little hole in the wall place, you could sit at your table and watch the guy behind the counter throw the dough up into the air, and spread it out, and top it and all that shit, and throw it into the big old brick oven. And there'd be a jukebox, or some kinda arcade game that you had to kick to get it to work, or whatever. Around here? You just wish up the pizza. No guy, no oven, no game. Just pizza. BORING. ... How d'you get around that? Besides opening your own pizza place, I mean. I'd be shit at somethin' like that. Any thoughts? I know you're out there, I can hear you griping....!

Who: Mark Hunter & Raenef the Fifth
What: Bowling Lessons!
When: Saturday
Where: The alley in town
Rating: PG-13 for Mark's mouth? IDK.

( ...to see what condition my condition was in )

[it's been a little while, but yet again, at ten, "Everybody Knows" comes wafting over the journals. Harry's kind to his record this week and doesn't scratch the needle over the vinyl - he just lifts it off, and lets silence reign over the journal for a good twenty seconds or so. long enough to make people wonder if he's actually going to open his big fat mouth and start talking]









Wow, you can almost hear the crickets ... and I've got a hungry iguana. What say we feed Cohen, and liven things up around here in one fell swoop? C'mere, buddy. [there's a pause and some audible rustling as he hoists the little lizard out of his terrarium]

I know a lot of you are still gettin' your feet under you, gettin' used to havin' your regular rooms back, goin' on about havin' to walk around in or avoid your own brains for nearly a whole week. Hell, I'm still getting used to it. I love mouthin' off to you guys, but five days of a taste of my own fuckin' medicine? [he laughs] Jesus Christ, how the hell do you sad, sorry fuckers put up with me?

In case you all missed it, running around everyone else's private personal thoughts, the Pie Hole is hiring. As for yours truly, I tried one door out of random curiosity, and all I got for my trouble was soaking wet. And not in the fun way. So, there's that. And to our new people: Danarius, Tear Grants, Anders, and Jet? Congratulations, you showed up in the midst of the weirdest castle fuckery I think I've seen since I got here. This place really outdid itself, this time. And you know why? You guys really wanna know why? Don't say "no", wise-asses, I'm gonna tell you anyway. Bear with me, here.

[he lounges back in his chair, letting Cohen perch on his chest as he digests his dinner] Picture the life of your average Paradisa resident. And I'm not just talking wake up, get outta bed, drag a comb across your head. I'm talking, straight from the inital shock of "where the hell ass balls am I" down to one minute you're walkin' down the hall, and suddenly someone else is tellin' everyone else you're not around anymore. You get here... you flip out. Or not! Some people are amazingly chill about this whole thing - something which yours truly will never completely understand, beyond it being a cultural thing. But one way or another, y'get here. And you start learnin' the ropes. Kitchen on the first floor, beach room, wishes, magic - with or without air quotes around it. Crazy changes to things. People turnin' into random shit. Talking books. The whole enchilada, the works. And whether you want to or not, sooner or later, you make a routine.

Maybe you make a few friends, maybe you're a loner. Maybe you find a job, down in town, or spend the whole day picking your ass on the couch down in the lobby, watchin' everyone go by. Maybe you try an' help people out, or make their lives hell. Maybe you spend your Monday nights listening to some asshole talk bullshit. But you get a groove goin', something that doesn't mean too much to you, somethin' to fill the space in between the crazy bullshit, so that when the downtime hits, you can pretend you're still sane. That life's normal.

And then we all get mirrors held up to our brains for five days, and the truth hits like a ton of shit bricks: none of us are normal. None of this is normal. Whether we had the right to go crawlin' around inside each other's heads isn't the point. The point IS: nobody's head was the same as anyone else's - well, 'cept maybe the Doctors, but they don't really count, because they're fucking insane in the good kinda way. We were all special snowflakes, and we still are.

So the next time you go wanderin' around and get into some argument with somebody else, because you think they should automatically know exactly where you're comin' from and why they're pushin' your buttons ... or on the other hand, if you decide to be That Guy and tell someone what they think is wrong, or they're lookin' at somethin' the wrong way? Remember that their room didn't look a goddamn thing like yours.

And thank this crazy, fucked-up place for at least having the last shred of decency it possibly could, by not makin' us all cookie-cutter clones. 'Cuz you KNOW it could, if it really wanted to.

[with that, he'll put on some music and just chill, waiting for the masses to chime in. at some point during the evening's broadcast, he idly scribbles in a filter]

[Peace Patrol]

Hey, you guys all heard about the problem this Fenris guy is having, right? ... And I've heard some scuttlebutt about some people wanting to get one of the prisoners released. What's the skinny on that?

[/Peace Patrol]