#cosmicangsts

[savingthrcw]

@cosmicangsts

Jenny didn't know whether she believed in fate or not, but she knew that after a decade looking for her father, learning about him, always missing him and his TARDIS even just by a minute, only now, only after choosing to hide from him, she had seen the famous blue box. Her time vortex manipulator was off, needed more charging, so she could choose to stick around and wait to see if it would work before the place blew up, or go knock. And she had to choose fast, because if the noise was any indication, her father was about to leave again.

He didn't know she was alive, hadn't seen her new face, she had to hold onto that thought. But when she ran up to the TARDIS and started hitting the side so he'd hear over the noise, she wasn't thinking of needing to escape the explosion: she was thinking she wanted to see her dad.

[doyl1st]

Asking for Favors // Still Accepting @cosmicangsts said: " you didn't have to help me out, there. "

For just a moment, Isaac sees stars. Not the genuine thing, of course, but the photopsia brought on by the completely unnecessarily exaggerated rolling of his eyes. Of course he didn't have to help. Nobody has to do anything. He just wanted to.

A fellow like Isaac does not express himself easily. He can fake it, sure, but anything he's really feeling has to be kept in check. He's tightly coiled, his emotions like springs shoved into a vice grip and tightened until they either compress or break. It's difficult for him to release that pressure, for fear of the tension becoming volatile. But he's trying! Goddammit, he's fucking trying. So he forces himself to speak, even if he'd rather keep his jaw wired shut.

"I didn't, but I wanted to. I don't want to see you get hurt, Doctor."

[vitalphenomena]

@cosmicangsts

SHE'S GOT GAUZE WRAPPED AROUND THE TOP HALF OF HER HEAD. Blood has stopped seeping through.

"I don't know how helpful I can be," she admits. "I hear a lot. I have since I was a little kid, a little thing. I used to see a lot, too.—that's not really a thing, anymore."

[fereldensheroesa]

@cosmicangsts, Marie and Five.

Marie knew the forest well. The snowy landscape barely made hunting harder, despite that it left everything silent. Each footstep was careful, each bit of brush navigated. Her ears perked at a sound--- footsteps. It sounded more like a person than animal. She turned, fingers dancing over her belt quiver, just in case. Brown eyes stopped on a man. An oddly dressed man.

The Frenchwoman's hood was lowered in a show of friendliness, revealing long, dark loose curls. "You do not seem dressed for this chill. Or... a forest." What was he ever wearing? City clothes? Was that what they wore in the cities?

[peculiarbeauty]

starter for : @cosmicangsts

" i'm terribly sorry , monsieur .. it's just that i've never had the privilege of meeting someone who actually enjoys reading stories besides my dear papa. "

[timelessjournalist]

@cosmicangsts sent: ❛  your optimism might be starting to rub off on me.  ❜

Sarah Jane smirked. “That’s great to hear — your pessimism was beginning to get a little tiring. Besides, there is so much good in the Universe, so many possibilities for good things to happen.” Not to mention the ability of pessimism to wear a person down. “How does it feel?” she asked, her smirk turning into more of a grin as she looked at him.

[mocksfate]

@cosmicangsts / liked.

“ and then  i  am the witch. ” ellie raises an eyebrow, hands resting on her hips. a wooden blue box is indeed not a common sight in rural england, especially since the doors of her house are not large enough to let it pass through. an object of such size and weight would also make a lot of noise ( a noise she did not hear ) when moved somewhere – and there were no drag marks inside or outside her abode; she’d call the authorities if it didn’t worsen her already delicate situation. perhaps, this is simply a mystery she herself has to solve. thus, with ginger steps, the young woman approaches what looks like a possible entrance to the tight cabin and knocks on it with uncanny intensity.

“ pardon?? is this some sort of joke? ”

[ofthetardis]

There was something oddly familiar about this person, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Not yet, anyway. Despite it, the Doctor at least felt he could trust him and that they would mean no harm. Glancing them over, he did as he usually did with a new face, bringing out his bag of Jelly Babies. "Hello there, I'm the Doctor. It's a pleasure to meet you. Would you like a Jelly Baby?"

@cosmicangsts liked for a starter with Four!

[painbears]

@cosmicangsts liked for a thing!

❛ there are no books on this kinda thing. ❜ emma continues to run around the strange and unusual inside of the vintage looking blue police box. ❛ what even is this place? ❜ there's another statement that lingers on her mind, an obvious observation that most people could make after laying their eyes on this interior. ❛ and why is it so big on the inside of this tiny looking box? ❜

[vervainlacedveins]

@cosmicangsts ♥ ( DOCTOR ) liked for a starter

"Aliens aren't real." Eva snorted out in heavy sarcasm: her expression deeply furrowed. It seemed funny that she couldn't bring herself to believe that such a thing existed when she, herself, wasn't fully human either. After all ... surely there had to be a limit with how much logic there was in the world? "Vampires and werewolves and witches? Sure. But aliens?" Eva rolled her green eyes, "C'mon ... even that is pushin' it."

[protectxthem]

@cosmicangsts asked: " we started this together, and we'll end it together. " ( for fourteen ! )

"Together." Prompts | Accepting

"Yeah?" Fourteen asks, looking over at Five. He remembers all of what is happening because he once lived it and it was all folding out in front of him just as it was happening all at the same time.

He sucks in a deep breath, slipping his hand into the other's hand, and gives it a squeeze. "Together." He says, nodding as he digs into his pocket, pulling out his Sonic Screwdriver. He flips it into the air and catches it with his free hand before turning and pointing it at the Cyberman approaching them.

"Do you remember the way out?"

[lghtyear]

⁽ ᴿᴼᴳᴱᴿ ⁾       . . .     ‘    requested by @cosmicangsts :       still accepting !    ⁽ ᴼᵁᵀ ⁾

brows furrow at the sight , pure confusion painting features . this wasn't the man she expected to see wandering in through tardis doors , and yet . . . how familiar he felt . and how at ease he seemed with the inside of the tardis . " sorry , it's . . . you shouldn't be in here . " but she's making no moves to send him away , curiosity far too present .

[adversitybloomed]

🌸  ┊@cosmicangsts​    The Fifth Doctor   liked for a small starter.

        ❝  i apologies for intruding, but do you need help ?  ❞

[drummingncise]

@cosmicangsts // continued from here!

The Master finds there's no need for disguises, not now. With the war looming in his timeline, he decided to put that energy elsewhere -- his last disguise worked far too well for his liking, anyways. The Doctor that he'd met then didn't even try to see through it, leaving him behind in medieval England. Again.

What use is a disguise, even, when you know this is not the face that matches yours?

This face -- he remembers the last time they'd seen each other. Burning in flames thanks to the other's actions. Anger boils under the surface before quickly being suppressed.

"Hello again, dear." It's carefully calculated, betraying none of his repressed anger for the Doctor. He has more important things to be angry about, things that he's currently running away from.

[starwrittenfates]

@cosmicangsts

feeling normal about them

[moonshadowed]

"I thought I told you to keep that on your eye."

He doesn't have to turn round from where he's rifling through the gladstone bag to know that @cosmicangsts is decidedly not following his advice. Not that he blames him as such. How could he? He can almost remember what it was like all those years, all those lifetimes ago; almost, but not quite, like a half-forgotten dream lost to the world between sleep and waking.

Looking over his shoulder to confirm his suspicions, he studies the blond on the chaise longue, the frozen peas that are ten to one older than the child who holds them. Something sunken in his chest aches at the sight of those hazel eyes, young and sparkling, the pain as familiar as it is unwelcome.

"Go on," he encourages instead, soft-spoken but firm, "put it back." He snaps the bag shut, putting the needed supplies in the pockets of the moth-eaten blue overcoat, slippers gently scuffing the floor as his feet carry him over to the chair.

He kneels-- surprised, as always, that his knees don't crack at the motion, that it is only exhausted blue eyes that convey how ancient he feels-- and lays his hand over the other's, his touch tender and parental. No matter what, it seems he can never hide that.

"Where else are you hurt?" he asks. "Your head?" // starter call!