starlightcalliope: (troll: wonk)
[personal profile] starlightcalliope
Today, Calliope has a hankering for company. She's been consumed by various projects for a handful of days now, perhaps three or four, hiding away in her increasingly spacious nook in the library on her quest to read every book, and illustrating her pirate Doctor fanfictions in a special secret room she's found where the walls are hung with otherworldly maps and beautiful sketches. There is so much to do that she sometimes forgets the time, no longer needing to worry about scheduled naps to afford her brother equal awakeness, and there is something so reassuring and companionable about knowing she can be on her own as much as she likes, while her friends are just around the next corner. Ianto seems to worry a wee bit, when she's disappeared for a while, texting her occasionally to ask if she needs anything or wants dinner, the sweet dear. The Doctor leaves her be for the most part, unless he's found something especially exciting, like a spatial anomaly or a new type of candy. It's all wonderfully domestic and she couldn't be happier.

So when she's had enough of hermitting away, she gets hold of a kitchen and rustles up some muffins (replacing the cherries in the recipe with chopped steak and adding a generous helping of chocolate chips). She arranges a few on a plate and leaves the rest on the table for peckish passersby, setting out to find a friend. And it isn't long at all until she does, a helpfully red door pointing the way to a truly impressive workshop, walls lined with contraptions and desks filled with gadgets, and a few stairs leading down to another level. There the Doctor sits hunched over a workbench, tinkering away. He's so adorably engrossed in his work that he hasn't even noticed her entering, so she flops down on her belly and peeks through the railing at his desk below, watching him for a minute before deciding he quite clearly needs a break. She nudges a muffin between the bars until it drops straight down on his work, quickly scooting back to hide her head and muffle a giggle with her sleeve.
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
 photo anigif_enhanced-buzz-29762-1378302740-10_zpse82a67eb.gif


Ah, October. A time of crisp weather, beautiful foliage, pumpkin spice lattes—and the flu. Make sure you get vaccinated!

Of course, vaccinations can't keep you safe from everything. Especially not a capricious, omnipresent entity that has, quite recently, been treated to the highly entertaining sight of someone struggling with illness for the first time in their life. Oh, dear. Someone's been giving the Rift ideas.

On the morning of October 2nd, those rifties who would never consider getting vaccinated against paltry human illnesses--because why would they need to?--will find themselves awake to a new level of personal hell: the flu. It will instantaneously infect any entities who are generally immune to such things, leaving them snotty, achy, miserable, and completely powerless to stop what is happening to them. What is this?! Are they dying? Oh god, the pathos.

Symptoms will persist until October 4th. Get plenty of rest, stay hydrated, and maybe investigate the wonders of chicken soup. Probably don't go see a doctor. Clinic doctors will be very confused and unhelpful about your weird anatomy, and The Doctor will probably be really gross and contagious.

Definitely don't consult WebMD. No good can come of that.

[OOC: Post here for initial reactions or start your own threads using the tag Event: Flu Season. Characters who can be affected are: the Doctor, the TARDIS, Zagreus, Aziraphale, Crowley, Desire, Ascended Daniel, Gabriel, Lucifer, and Rashad. You could probably also make a case for various other non-human/not-quite-human folks. No one's gonna tell you you can't have the flu, okay. Go nuts.]
i_jones: indiefairy @ LJ (guys there's all this pizza and turtles)
[personal profile] i_jones
Welcome, welcome. Not through that door. I mean, you can try it, but all doors lead to breakfast. Even that one underneath the console. You thought you were being clever. Maybe once you've behaved yourself and the TARDIS judges you to be worthy, you can explore a little more. For now, breakfast. For one night only, the TARDIS has become - or rather, has been inhabited by - King Ianto's Coffee Stop. Would you like to join the club? He has pamphlets. And buttons! But more importantly, he has breakfast. Lots of breakfast. The countertops of the cozy diner are lined with plates of breakfast foods galore - bacon, eggs, sausage, mushrooms, tomatoes, black pudding, cockles, laverbread... and okay, there are American staples too. There's your pancakes and your french toast and hash browns and cupcakes or whatever strange sweet things Americans eat for breakfast. Oh, and tea. Lots of tea. And if you ask very nicely, King Ianto himself might brew up some of his very own coffee. It's so good, it has a cult following.*

The walls are decorated with a strange collection of primarily alien souvenirs. There's one whole section of postcards from other planets and galaxies. GREETINGS FROM MARS! says one particularly upbeat postcard, featuring swathes of blue sand and a setting blue sun. Many others are unreadable. There are flags, leis of unfamiliar flora, letters of commendation (right next to WANTED signs), photographs both old and new of various people and various Doctors posing next to various monuments and landmarks, and strangely enough, what looks to be a stolen sign commemorating Ianto's death, from the management of Mermaid Quay. Have a look around! You never know what you might find. Probably none of it is dangerous. The food definitely isn't.

Oh and also the ceiling is space and outside the windows is space and spaaaaaace.**

*((Ianto has an undiscovered power: his coffee improves you. Your health, your powers (temporarily), your mood, whatever needs fixing. Please drink responsibly.))

**not actually space
whofrownedthisface: (pretty)
[personal profile] whofrownedthisface
With his trip to the park having turned out more fruitful than originally envisioned, the Doctor hurries back to the TARDIS, though still with next to no idea what he's up against. Something, that's for sure. Not a riftugee (so much cleverer than riftie, but it just won't catch on somehow), and it doesn't seem like there's any manifestations to investigate on site in the park. But clearly something is up. At least the rift isn't sucking in monsters from who knows where or messing with the park's timescape. And if Daine's affliction is the only trouble, well. Just being honest. Not really the crisis he got out of bed for. Metaphorically speaking.

Upon returning to the TARDIS he sets to with his usual flurry of console activity, calling up maps full of squiggly concentric lines, popping in all the readings he'd gathered, reading about strange weather phenomena involving frogs. Just an oddity to resolve, hopefully in time for lunch (why not cucumber sandwiches?), guaranteed to lift his spirits and maybe even provide new insight into the rift.
i_jones: (ehhhhhhhh)
[personal profile] i_jones
There's a trail of sweets leading him, labyrinthine, through the TARDIS. The rooms, the corridors, swirled along the walls, all within approximate arm's reach of a certain troll. Ianto follows it, fearing for the inevitable candied Lot's wife, though eventually he gives in and plucks a sherbet lemon off of what used to be a doorknob. The TARDIS probably wouldn't allow it inside if it weren't safe. Sugary occurrences aside, it's not been a bad day so far - the nerve pain in his legs is particularly unnoticeable, and dare he say he's even feeling well enough to go without the cane. He carries it still, just in case, but he's feeling optimistic (for once).

The first kitchen he finds has been ransacked by licorice and caramels, leaving him nowhere to sit and nothing to drink. He finds another, blessedly unmarked, although this one has the arguable downside of containing the Doctor, who does not seem as preoccupied by the possibility of some kind of candy minotaur as Ianto is. "Doctor," he starts hesitantly from the doorway, in that companion-esque 'there's something I've noticed that you haven't and I'm waiting for you to tell me if I should be scared of it' way.
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
 photo beauty and the beast stained glass rose-NZWR_sm_zpsadnbeqxz.png


The twenty-seventh of August dawns bright and clear, but when your characters wake up, they will immediately notice something wrong. They've woken up the wrong size, or species, or age. Or perhaps everything seems normal until they take a bite of their apple-flavored toaster strudel, or attempt to speak, or wander into the woods, or bump into that old crone in the subway and fail to adequately apologize. However it happens, there's no getting around it: your characters are cursed, like an unfortunate out of a fairy tale.

On the bright side, many curses can be broken. Unfortunately, none of them come with user manuals, so how they might be broken isn't clear. Perhaps true love's kiss will do it, or a heroically sacrificial act, or some serious reflection followed by revelatory insight into your own soul. Or, y'know, whatever. But it's far more likely that your character will just be stuck with whatever it is until sunset, when any and all remaining curses will be broken.

[OOC: Feel free to use this post for initial reactions to whatever curse your character has found themselves suffering. Any additional posts for more specified shenanigans can go up under the 'events: curses' tag. Sunset is a little after 7:30 PM. Backdating and backtagging are the best and you should do both of those things if necessary.]
lottawork: (think the thoughts)
[personal profile] lottawork
The days without his laptop were not pleasant or painless ones, nor was it particularly easy to make any notable progress in any work-related or personal or significant areas while deprived of that rather key resource, but since Rush's series of, for lack of a better term, decommissions, he has had very few opportunities to return to the TARDIS to obtain it.

He was extremely grateful, to say in the least, to receive an explicit request to do so, and coupled with an invitation to understand the TARDIS in a more hands-on and constructive manner; neither were opportunities he could think to refuse.

He leaves after his return from work. He leaves his apartment with its darkened spill of equations across walls and the thickening heat and the shattered head it does not represent, does not in any way represent, and locks the door firmly behind him. The confinement of the physical becomes infinitely more escapable when one habitually surrounds oneself in the theoretical, in the unquestionably conceptual, in what can only be captured in the lines and curves of numbers against an unmarked expanse.

The TARDIS defies all these conventions. Infinite potential contained in theoretically finite space, brought to a point on an axis unquantifiable.

It is an unspoken relief to vacate the contained, arid hell of his apartment, and an even greater one to at last make out the blue outline of the TARDIS between the trees, the release from the park's numberless haze. He draws even with the door and knocks, even and controlled, and shifts back one pace, unconsciously redistributing his weight in vague curiosity as to who will answer: the TARDIS, or her pilot.

He knows without question which he prefers.

i_jones: (thank you intern ianto)
[personal profile] i_jones
Once you get to the TARDIS - because you did follow those blue balloons through Central Park, didn't you, you got that clue, and maybe those of you with good (or not-bad) intentions found it a little easier to find, and were drawn to it, even - anyway, once you get to the TARDIS, you find a sign on the door, which is ajar. No, not that sign, a handwritten sign taped to the front that says PARTY (I PROMISE) with an arrow pointing inside. And yes, oh, isn't the console room nice, how merry-go-round, whatever. More importantly, there are signs on every door out of the room that say assorted things like PARTY THIS WAY and ALSO THIS WAY and JUST PICK ONE REALLY. There is one festive balloon tied to the console.

If you go through any or all of the doors, you'll find yourself in a room with a very large pool (that one might say looks like this one except much grander in scale). The pool is lined, not excessively, with taps in various shapes, sizes, and colors. Some pump out bubbles, some foam, some clouds, some... who knows? Surrounding the pool are chairs and tables with appetizers, desserts, drinks, and various types of cake. Also pie. There's a jukebox tucked into a corner playing a mixture of 80s songs, unfamiliar songs from various points in the future, and the occasional song in an alien language with a good beat. There are rooms if you need to change, and some doors might even take you to the wardrobe room if you need a bathing suit. And I guess you could explore further if you really wanted to, but why do that when you can party? Because most doors will probably lead you back to the pool room, let's be real.
whofrownedthisface: (pretty)
[personal profile] whofrownedthisface
Time flies when you're fussing purposelessly making minor TARDIS repairs and doing the occasional broody doze. Enough so, that the Doctor is surprised when the TARDIS alerts him to the fact that his guest is awake. Enough so, that it's been hours since he bugged her to give him an update (which had boiled down to, 'The child is asleep.' every time). He does an exceptional job not displaying any of the relief he feels at the news, bright sunrise relief as old as dark and uncertainty, and probably not half of what Callie herself feels, under whatever dawn her windows are choosing to display. The TARDIS will direct her here whenever she straggles out of her room undoubtedly in need of food and direction. Neither of which he really has in spades, come to think of it. Maybe some errand running and exploring outside the TARDIS will take care of both of those.
etherthief: (playing with fire)
[personal profile] etherthief
Iman hits the rendezvous point at 11am sharp, fed, caffeinated, and now enjoying a smoke in the open air. Mr. Fring seemed moderately suspicious that they both requested Wednesdays off, but whatever, right? Everyone's entitled to a day off. What if they need to make a doctor's appointment? She snickers to herself about that.

She feels good about this. She feels good about Dr. Rush. She can't believe her luck, finding such a solid confederate on her first day of ROMAC training. Going to make the process a lot better. And now she gets the pleasure of introducing him to the most impressive thing he'll probably ever see. She hopes the Doctor is in, so to speak.

She leans against the stone archway and smokes, passing a calm gaze around, until she spots the string Scotsman approach. She smiles and gives him a cheery wave.

"G'morning," she says. "We ready?"
starlightcalliope: (troll: callie)
[personal profile] starlightcalliope
Calliope has been wandering around the TARDIS for what is very likely to be hours. She'd spent at least five of them in an absolutely grand library - a library! she had never even imagined that many books in one place, and now here is a room with possibly endless shelves - until her eyes started aching from all the reading and she reluctantly had to go do something else. Of course, the ship seems to offer a never-ending supply of things to do, most of which rather confounded her with their marvelous alienness. There was a huge body of water in a gorgeously decorated room that she spent a while wondering about, for instance. Water really wasn't a thing on her own planet, let alone so much of it. But she resolved to ask the Doctor about every bit of strangeness in this place and continued her exploration. 

And with every oddity she encounters - beautiful flowers and very very small trees cut into weird shapes! tiny bright animals with wings!! an art gallery!!! - she gets more excited and more eager to tell the Doctor all about it. Also her feet are starting to hurt and she is quite exhausted and hungry, but never mind that. Though when she reaches out for the next door handle in a very long line of door handles, her hand is suddenly green and clawed again, and she does mind that. With an irritated flick of her tongue she concentrates hard until she changes back and then makes a face at nobody in particular. She is done being a cherub, she's a troll now, and it had better stick!

Fortunately, the next room easily distracts her yet again, being the room that she first saw, the one that leads outside. And the one that might contain the Doctor! Lighting up with excitement, she hops down the stairs, barely curbed by the fact that he isn't actually anywhere in sight. Maybe he's outside sitting on the roof again. The ceiling is doing a complicated sort of chime, which she will just go ahead and assume to be a greeting, so she comes to a halt by the column and cheerily exclaims "Hello again!" up at it. All the shiny whirry things are still terribly enchanting, and this time she can't help herself; she presses a bright red button and giggles delightedly at the ringing it makes. And what is this box that sort of looks like a keyboard for? She'd better find out!
starlightcalliope: (dream self)
[personal profile] starlightcalliope
Once again it is quiet and lonely in the void of the Furthest Ring. Some time ago - inasmuch as time can be said to be a thing that exists here - Calliope had suddenly found herself in a very strange dream bubble. It had been quite frightening, but also nice, so nice, to not be alone for a while, and of course it was over far too quickly, leaving her to stew by herself in the dark once more.

Despite the brief respite from her miserable lot that the dream had granted her, she is soon overwhelmed by loneliness and despondency again, curled up at the center of her protective vortex and wondering how she is supposed to make a difference to all of Paradox Space. Being dead means irrelevancy, after all, and she has already been killed by her brother once before - quite rightfully, the more she thinks about it. So how can she hope to find the courage to leave her hidden sanctuary and go in search of the secret weapon of legend, capable of defeating the invincible reality-rending monster her brother has become? Hope is in rather short supply out here, she muses gloomily.

Just then, as though to prove her wrong, something changes. Calliope stares up in speechless shock as a pair of majestic wings appears in mid-air, getting larger and brighter and quite mesmerizing and then she feels like she's tumbling, the wings guiding her. It's a short tumble, at the end of which she finds herself sitting on smooth stone, looking up at the back of a winged human statue. There is water sprinkling down in front of her-- water? And trees?? And humans!!! With an undignified squeak, Calliope more falls than scrambles down the edge of the oddly round body of water and cowers at the foot of it.

What is this place? There are so many humans she doesn't know, and this really doesn't feel like a dream bubble at all, and she feels slightly cold... just about anywhere would be cold to someone who grew up beneath a massive red supergiant, but she's never felt much of anything in the void or in dreams. This is all too much to take in and so is quickly eclipsed by her usual paramount concern - not causing a panic among the humans with her monstrous appearance. Which is going to be rather difficult, as the round structure isn't hiding her well at all, and oh she's quite sure she couldn't bear it if they all started running away screaming. Too scared to care that this doesn't seem to be a dream, she squeezes her eyes shut and desperately wills herself to look more acceptable, imagines with all her might her trollsona's soft grey skin, pretty face and lovely curled orange horns. But for all her imagining, she's still too afraid to open her eyes again.
whofrownedthisface: (the fuck is that)
[personal profile] whofrownedthisface
The sound of the Doctor's arrival in the Ramble ought to be much more catastrophic than it is. Much more fitting for a crashlanding than the anti-climactic whump of a bird-boned body hitting the ground, followed by the collectively stunned silence of park and Doctor alike. Quickly broken by a convulsive intake of breath and couple of coughs, as the Doctor rolls into a slightly less crumpled heap, recovering from having the breath knocked out of him on impact. His attitude is that of someone who has just lived an entirely foreseen consequence, and would absolutely do it again given the opportunity.

He had taken every precaution, hadn't he? Well, every precaution except not seeking out the rift. And he hadn't even done anything to it yet. Not much, anyway. Just some preliminary prodding. The Doctor gets up, pats himself down gingerly, an inventory of bodily integrity as well as pocket contents. All the important things, screwdriver, yo-yo, and--yes, chalk. The geography of the area is right for rocky outcroppings, and the Doctor means to find one and write on it for awhile. First order of business: • Do not prod the rift.

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