dw still

Short spoop

I was messing around, drumming various things when my father entered the room. Visibly anxious, he told me off for “knocking on the floor.”
I agreed, defeated, before I met a wave of curiosity resulting in two questions that needed answering. Why couldn’t I knock on the floor? And, why was my father so worried about it?
We lived on the ground level, nothing below us but foundation and gravel. So, out of childish rebellion, I hovered a stable fist over the wooden boards of my mission, and I knocked. Three little knocks on the floor. Nothing right? I sat back, satisfied that I fulfilled my curiosity. Unfortunately I was interrupted by someone knocking back.

arturum-expectare  asked:

Just so you know I now hc that otabek learned how to braid hair from practicing on his little sister. And now he gets to practice on yuri. Okay bye! <333

MY HC TOO!!! I also hc that yuri and beka’s sis fight over who beka braids first >:3c

Tfw @mortalspork finally finishes her malec fic :’) sorry this draw isn’t as good as it could have been but I still had fun going ham with my glitter brush lol

Read Marijke’s fic here! :D

why did i spend time on this  a word cloud of every key word the twelfth doctor has said - from ‘the time of the doctor’ to ‘the return of doctor mysterio’ (including class because how could i not). long story short, his catchphrase is clara (the larger the word the more it was said)

long story in its entirety:

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4

“Still making eyes at a puddle?”

There is a moment of quietness there, in the middle of the chase. Of beauty. Of sorrow. As Heather‘s face rises from the water, as Bill gazes over the edge of the puddle, transfixed, a soft smile on her face, it first becomes clear that at its core, their confrontations are not about fear. They are about longing.

It is barely the sketch of romance. Eyes meeting. A few sentences traded, with awkwardness, but with compassion too. So much unfulfilled promise, in more ways than one. Fragments of information. Of stars and defects. Of the desire to flee. Of what happens when so much alienation encounters a puddle, a single tear drop, left behind all alone in a strange world. But all of time and space at her fingertips only reveal how much she is truly yearning. For that connection not quite made. Sadness is scarier than any other monster. And the girl with the star in her eye is made of tears.