#tempestcs

[nightmdic]

why did you go without me?

Deciding to work for a bit in a hospital in another country was one thing, but suddenly finding herself under the shaded canopy of her rented home treating some soldiers (some group called UNIT, she's been told) was another thing entirely. Whatever chaos was happening nearby that had her aiding the wounded, currently occupied bandaging one's arm up when she hears the voice behind her towards them.

"Considering they're soldiers, they lsiten to orders." she would know. voice goes to speak again when she finishes the bandages, arms resting at a light cross at her chest when emerald gaze catches familiarity of the other. the one from the hoospital when oddities were occurring there.

". . . you."

@tempestcs

[frser]

❝Let’s go to this creepy tavern and ask for some directions.❞

the faint sounds of wagons can be heard , the various lodgings lit in such a way that would welcome any weary traveler. the lure of paris had perhaps died , his younger years had been kinder to such idealism. though ? jamie inhales , he had known a time traveler from the very sight of one - his wonderful wife had opened his eyes to such a fact. the other's use of language had proved too modern , and it's when jamie stops.

' if you are so tied to such a notion may i entertain the idea of a better use of language , or are we to be a spectacle for all ? ' the moon peeking from behind a cloud as his red hair is illuminated by such a movement , ' doctor ... if you are to meet the son of a king i would suggest kinder language , one that would perhaps not bring suspicion to an already lost cause. '

though the tavern is of little walking distance he confesses that with lying comes the ease of drink , it makes one dull to the fact that one is lying. jamie then clenches jaw and nods in the direction of such an establishment , ' just what are you hoping to accomplish ? '

[yes7erdays-a1]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹ endless edits of clara oswald ( feat @tempestcs )

[stardustghost]

francine orwell. there are times where name barely feels her own: heavy lead on her tongue, oddly sharp when late at night she rolls it on her tongue. francine. fred. young woman is a blur of dark && vibrant colours all mixed together: a punk, she would correct anyone who labels her anything else, leather jacket used as cushion, chipped nail polish tapping on her legs. ( human girl is pure brilliance... until she goes unwatched. )

" best view in wales. " the torchwood team - the proper members - are all busy. so she keeps out of way, staring at star filled sky rather than the stranger that has caused such a storm with others. " @tempestcs, right? is the ' the ' a pronoun or part of the title? name? is it like being called kevin for your people or is it a declaration you're the ultimate doctor? "

starter call.

[am4zon]

@tempestcs said: I have learned to watch everything die.

It is not enough to witness with two eyes as Mankind withers to ash. Nor as the world succumbs to dust as empires fall and mortals pay the price. No, Diana hears the anguished cries, too. She tastes the bitter flavor of death all around her. It is not only people who die, but culture and traditions and ways of life. Diana has not just buried friends and enemies alike, she has buried fragments of herself. So many that you would think she is made of shards, and yet, her edges remain soft, somehow.

They of the unknown moniker seems to not only share Diana's pain, but know it. He knows, perhaps, what the dust of bones tastes like. In her culture, Diana would offer him her hand and their fingers would interlock and they would know the world would be faced together. But it is a promise Diana can no longer make, and this is not the culture from which she was forged.

Her eyes shut to disengage with tears that one might assume she was too old to shed any longer. ❝ We are not made from the cruelty of gods, who feast on ambrosia as their creations suffer. ❞ The gods, whose laughter is hideous to her ears, for they relish in the pain their violent hearts have unleashed. The gods, who gifted Diana all the powers she holds, yet who made her nothing of who she is. She bloomed despite them, not because of them.

❝ All those we love, all those we do not love quite as much, are destined to fall. ❞ This moment between them, too, shall fall. Perhaps it shall even fade. ❝ Yet, not even death can steal away the moments our hearts keep close. ❞

She offers them her hand after all.

[espercr]

✶ - 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ( accepting ! ) 

@tempestcs​ said : 🗣️

[pendraigon-moved]

                                     @tempestcs​​​​   ›    𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖆 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗.

                       ❛   how   much   further?   ❜   this   isn’t   the   first   time   he’s   asked,   maybe   the   third   or   forth.   but   he   was   getting   tired   of   walking   when   he   had   not   a   clue   what   he   was   walking   towards.   ❛  do   you   even   know   where   you’re   going?   ❜   he   huffs   with   each   step   he   takes,   mud   and   dirt   clinging   to  his   boots.

 ❛   there’s   no   shame   in   saying   you’re   lost.   just   admit   it,   you’re   lost.   ❜   the   king   taunts,   part   of   him   trying   to   reel   out   a   reaction   from   him,   another   part   just   wanting   him   to   say   so   —   then   arthur   can   swiftly   take   over.

[rosetylar]

fingers   are   intertwined   with   his,   girl   is   alert   and   attentive.    “   so   .   .   .   barcelona?   the   planet,   not   the   city.   ”    rose   looks   around,   taking   in   the   sight   of   it   all.   it   would   be   nice   to   relax.    “   i   will   admit,   it   is   nicer   than   the   city.   at   least   i   think   it   is.   ”    @tempestcs​​.

[huntrcsss]

@tempestcs

It’s a rather common hunt she’s attempting to conduct right now - rumors of a werewolf causing ruckus in the small town just outside of the forest here; all she really needed to do was track the werewolf down, discover if he was part of a pack or alone, and end it right there. Simple as that really - were it not for the strange sound seeming to escape just a few feet ahead of her.

A sort of odd woosh noise she couldn’t quite describe herself properly, only that she had been swift to hide her backside against the nearest, largest oak tree. It’s perfectly wide enough to mostly conceal her, shifting everything so carefully as to not disturb the array of twigs and leaves beneath her feet, head granting the lightest tilt in curiously when - did….did a blue phone booth just appear? She doesn’t recall seeing it before, but it’s standing there proud & tall in all its glory.

A hand ghost closer to the bag at her side, prepared to withdraw the battered colt if needed as she carefully emerges from behind the tree after a few moments of silence, daring to inch closer to the odd box. She hasn’t seen a lot of phone booths like this in her travels on hunts, but considering she’s rather certain it wasn’t there before, let alone so common for one to simply be in the middle of a forest with little use, she’s certain to keep cautious.

“…..the hell-?”

[queensupe]

@tempestcs​​  |  starter call

❛     UNFORTUNATELY  FOR  YOU,  I’M  PRETTY  sure  someone  noticed.        ❜    her  shoulder  blades  touch  up  against  cool  brick,  one  arm  folded  across  the  cusp  of  the  silver  swirls  on  her  bodice,  the  other  outstretched  with  a  cigarette  breathing  bright  orange  into  the  velvet  tones  of  a  night  sky.    

[frser]

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖?

novels ; you fall in love easily and hard, and you are the image that pops into someone’s brain when they think of a love interest. you are a romantic and find yourself falling in love a hundred times a day because your imagination is wild and certainly knows how to get the best of you. you are soft and delicate and need to be handled with care, because a heartbreak would break you into a million pieces. you don’t want much else except to be loved and to love. you want to live out your wildest dreams, and the person that loves you can't help but let their imagination run wild with you.

tagged by : @darehearts ( <3 this was wonderful thank you! ) tagging : @covrroucer , @highevar , @ircnwrought , @bridgeirton . @penvcnens , @leighiche , @tempestcs + anyone else (this was fun so do it!)

[yes7erdays-a1]

i'm on your side, it's alright

❛⠀ i don’t believe you. are you on my side. are you, doctor? ⠀ ❜ ⠀ ⠀ there is a sense of déjà vu in the air. clara feels it in her bones, in the very essence of her splintered, fractured being, that there is something wrong here. the doctor is keeping something from her. like before.

he used to do that. or will do that, is more accurate. in the future, when he's forgotten her ( them ) he won't trust her. he'll take her hand and lead her to impossible things, all the while keeping himself in another galaxy. she's tired of orbiting the sun, of burning herself only to find him gone.

❛⠀ cause friends don't keep things from each other. ⠀ ❜

WATERFALL.

[anomalytm-archive]

jenny,  introducing  her  dads:  this  is  my  space  dad,  he’s  the  one  i  was  cloned  from.  this  is  my  spy  dad,  he  has  an  eyepatch  because  of  a  cat.  this  is  my  science  dad,  but  sometimes  he’s  green  dad  and  we  love  both  dads.  this  is  my  russian  dad,  he’s  a  super  soldier  too.  and  these  are  my  two  time  agency  dads,  they're  the  exact  same  person  (  but  i  can  tell  them  apart  )  and  they’re  both  in  love  with  loki  laufeyson.

their s/o: 😳😳

[vagasbonds]

THE DAYS HAVE A CONSISTENT CODE OF REPETITION . each day eleven can almost predict what happens every minute solely based on routine . there was hardly ever a break from it . testing , exercising , learning , monitoring , traveling , playing , and repeat ; tis never bothered her . it’s all she’s known and what she assumed was all she would ever know .

some nights ( or what she thinks is night — there are no windows ) , eleven doesn’t sleep immediately . silence seems to ring in her ears as her mind refuses to rest , with eyes boring into the ceiling . no one ever bothers her ; they leave the sticky pads with wires connected to her skull for more monitoring . maybe they’re trying to figure out what makes some nights different . and this one certainly is . a strange , unknowing whirring noise comes from her door marked ‘ １１ ‘ .

as if broken from a spell , she sits up in her bed and stares pointedly at the door and its handle . this is a break in repetition — is it a test ?  the door eventually swings open to reveal a lanky man , dressed unlike papa or any of the other scientists . she tilts her head with an almost blank expression but says nothing , waiting to be spoken to .

&& . @tempestcs / PLOTTED .

[compatiissante]

@tempestcs​ sent: “ Is it only me? “ (hello!)

CHAMELEON CIRCUIT LYRIC STARTERS

“i’m-- not entirely sure i understand the question here. like--”   hands gesture vaguely in front of her own body, between the two in confusion. maya never was one for understanding things easily right off the bat, but it wasn’t really for lack of trying. her brain just didn’t connect the dots easily for her, or at least, not compared to how they did for others around her.

          “. . . are we talking about physically? or-- or is there somethin’ else goin’ on here? what are we talkin’ about, dude?”

[wwxnka]

“As promised, a few of my Toffee Apples - I hope dear Arthur is hungry.”

@tempestcs​ liked this for a one-liner.