celestialintervention-blog

[celestialintervention-blog]

There is something wrong with the sound of her feet as she moves toward him. Her movement, too, seems unnatural. Every step is slow, calculated. The actions almost symmetrical. One hand goes to his shoulder, the other to his cheek. The cracks around Laura's eyes fold together; her lips pull into a tight smile. She plants a brief kiss on his cheek. Hands pull away, and slowly clasp together. Taking a step back, her smile opens. "Time is not all that you think."

If one were to consult the matrix, the syntax of the moment was speared by a (101) Traxian Index, the three dimensional (3D+1D) structure of time parted by a wedge of foreign “intelligence.” Panic throughout the capitol. Not since the days of the Great Vampires, had the syntax broken.

Rassilon’s miasm parted, and Narvin 

-witnessed- 

a foreign moment. Chakras are a lie on the Orthorhombic plain, as witnessed by Cardinal Matxhalin in his monograph Four Proofs Against Existence. 

Scarlet shaders separated the riotousness of black and white. 

Laura smiled. He was not in Laura’s room.

And then he was back in his office, the Castilian shaking him. There was no enemy.

[You deserve this kind of response, Will]

[celestialintervention-blog]

Gallifrey VI (2013) - episodes 6.2-6.3

[celestialintervention-blog]

I'd not have insisted on a kiss as a Presidential prerogative, Coordinator, but if you're /offering/....

He makes a muted noise in response to her kiss. It is perhaps not entirely displeased.

“At no point have I said I’m offering...I have only been subjected to a number of these...lower affections.”

[celestialintervention-blog]

merry new years again iris is here to smooch mel (clubtypeforty)

“Oh! How nice!” She kisses her cheek back. “You’re having a very happy New Year, I see.” She lowers her voice, equally helpful and conspiratorial. “Remember, alcohol is loaded with calories. Drink carefully!”

[celestialintervention-blog]

It’s time to watch the best New Years movie.

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Send “New Years Kiss” to give my muse a kiss at midnight on New Year’s Eve

[celestialintervention-blog]

"If Iris is not even human and allowed to kiss you on our holy day, then so am I, I think," Leela says, with mischief in her eyes but a soft smile on her lips. She presses a surprisingly gentle kiss just at the corner of Narvin's mouth. "Happy New Year, Narvin." (from leelaofthesevateem)

He recoils. Touch is already unfamiliar. A touch to his lips, all the more so. But it’s not the revulsion and shock from the last kiss.

He bites his lips to disguise a smile. “It is much more...” charming “agreeable when it doesn’t taste of...juniper.”

[celestialintervention-blog]

MERRY NEW YEARS NARV U GET A SMOOCH FROM IRIS WILDTHYME (clubtypeforty)

He sputters and backs away, coughing, pressing his sleeve to his lips.

“By what standard is it a new year? Some alien culture’s?” He works his lips, dealing with the alien-ness of that contact.

[celestialintervention-blog]

Ace, Mel, and the seventh Doctor in The Silurian Candidate...

when people talk about bad adaptations of your favorite character

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merry christmas, Gallifandom! sorry for no color; i’ve had like no time to do this whoops.

bonus Ace:

[celestialintervention-blog]

I have a resume and CV ready to go, BBC.

Writers, hire me.

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“I see why, in some quarters, you were known as President Grumpy.” It’s a challenge, from his Island of Misfit Otherstide Decorations. He sets the room design controls; his half of the office becomes a festive, Otherstide celebration in the most garish colors. More than a few notes of his old chapter’s colors strewn about, as well.

“Tasteful, I think you’ll agree.”

Narvin looks at Romana from behind his tastefully-decorated desk. He shakes his head slightly, looks at his Otherstide decorations sadly, as though even THEIR cheer can't cut through SOMEONE'S grumpiness, and continues work.

Romana raised an eyebrow. Passive-aggression had it’s place, but so did outright aggression. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, deputy-Coordinator. Just because I wouldn’t let you ruin the rest of OUR office with TASTELESS decorations. Letting you have sovereignty over your desk was generosity enough.” 

[celestialintervention-blog]

I’m active again

Consider it a Christmas miracle. Replies, starters, and other long-owed things will filter in over the next ~undefined amount of time.~

Christmas-relevant stuff comes first, ideally within the 12 hours, then everything else.

[celestialintervention-blog]

Ace looks at the Grymloq. Then back at Kroq-gar. Then Grymloq. Then Kroq-gar. She’s clearly trying to decide if it’s “he will actually eat you” or the Professor’s “I don’t want you to do that, Ace, so to discourrrrrrrrrrrrrage I will insist it’s dangerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrous.”

He IS a dinosaur.

He’d probably actually eat her.

“Wicked,” she squeaks, then stands up on her tip-toes to look Kroq-gar over. “Pretty Mesoamerican. Guess you’re a Silurian? One of the ones without a third eye? South America, but you won’t know it’s called that yet.” She presses the middle of her forehead, to illustrate.

“I’m Ace! Just Ace. What’s your name? Rad spear.” She falls back on her heels, looking up at him with awe.

@celestialintervention​ Ace finally gets to see a dinosaur

The ancient saurus oldblood stands, unmoving, as the warmblood spawnling circles him. Golden eyes track its every movement, quick and curious like a skink. The warmblood trespasses in Lustria, but it is alone and unarmed. It does not wear the armor of an enemy. He grips his sacred spear, trying to decide what the Great Plan of the Old Ones would have him do. 

Then it speaks. In the tongue of the cold ones.

It asks if it can pet his carnosaur. His faithful friend, Grymloq, who watches and waits for a command. Only his word keeps the savage beast from tearing the warmblood to pieces. The saurus do not show much emotion, but Kroq-Gar comes close. He stirs, leaning down to better inspect this warmblood who knows his speech and knows no fear. 

Finally he speaks, a hissing, rumbling sound.

“He would eat you.”

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Mel laughed, making sure his paper crown was extra secure. 

“That’s half the fun of setting everything up. You can enjoy Christmas for more than a month and a half, if you time putting the tree up just right. And who wouldn’t want want a month and a half of all of these colors and lights?”

She watches her tree, the lights blinking on and off--cascading, doubling back, and scattering--with the grace only a computer programmer with too much appreciation for colors could ever design. She’s too transfixed to even touch her eggnog. 

“You do know that it isn’t actually Christmas yet, right?”

[celestialintervention-blog]

stealing dogs is good

@imjustanauthor

[celestialintervention-blog]

@okaycallmefred

They’ve landed in Scotland. Almost his era, just a decade or so later. Jamie knows this much, and has taken over preparations. First, and most importantly, ensuring Romana is arrayed in tartan. But not just any tartan.

He drapes some over her shoulder, standing very close to do it. “Ah, ye’ve gotta be in my clan’s tartan. They they’ll know you’re friendly. Better than friendly. Family. My ma’ll give you the biggest hug once she knows you’re fine. Pick you up, probably, like this.”

Without warning, he lifts Romana up into a hug. Her feet clear the ground. And he puts her back down.

“Strong woman, my ma.”