- Answer the questions of the person who tagged you and write 10 new ones
- Tag 10 people and link them
- Let them know that they have been tagged
1.) If you had to watch one show for the rest of your life, what would it be?
FRIENDS
2.) Do you believe dreams have meanings?
Yes, I do.
3.) Favorite celebrity?
None so far. They're all equal to me.
4.) Crunchy or smooth peanut butter?
smooth
5.) What’s your zodiac sign?
Virgo
6.) Your OTP for this account?
Whouffle, or Souffez
7.) Headcanon about your TOP?
Headcanon: If Clara were to die currently, The Doctor would continue to go on a never-ending search for her. He would never give up, even if it were no longer possible, he'd keep searching.
8.) The person you like waves at your in the hallway— how do you react?
Wave back and give a kind, "Hello." and attempt to strike up a conversation
9.) Who do you admire the most?
Currently? That's tough too. I'm not sure either. I've never really thought about this one.
10.) What’s your top played track this week/or all time in your music player?
Levels - Avicii
1.) What is your favorite food?
2.) Do you play videogames? If yes, which games? If no, why not?
3.) The person you currently do NOT have a crush on asks you out, but you do not return those feelings, what would you do?
I'm just gonna slap this on and hope I did well. I can't sing for the life of me. But here it is! Just for you all. Please ignore me trying to clear my throat and all that.
Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened. | thistimeiwillbeimpossible
Lindsey has no way to cope with grief. It's the reason she's always shut herself off. It's the reason she's locked the doors and closed the curtains now, and curled up around her daughter, sobbing. She cannot deal with grief. Especially not now.
Clara Oswald is dead. That's all she knows as of now- which hurts her beyond belief- and that's all she needs to know to break down completely. The worst part of this was that it completely, one-thousand percent blindsided her. Clara dying before her was not something she had ever even thought about. Clara dying at all was something she didn't want to think about.
And here she was, a complete and utter wreck, forced to face reality. A reality she didn't want to accept because she wasn't sure that after all that time she could even live without her wife.
It was Christmas night. An extremely cold night, snowflakes floating around, and the smell of pine and gingerbread flooding the air...
In the Alfreds' tiny cottage, Bert's father had just come down after cleaning the chimney. There was snow on his shoulders and head, and you could see his face was bright red even when it was covered in ash. His mother had prepared a completely ordinary meal, the usual, except for a pair of candles and some other things that had been added, and was now decorating the table for dinner. Their house wasn't the place where you would find expensive gifts. Bert's parents ocasionally gave him presents: a knit sweater, a hat or a pair of shoes, but nothing else. They didn't exactly have an enormous amount of money, but they always tried the hardest they could to make their son never lack of anything. Of course, he did the same for them.
That night, Bert was doing practically nothing but only staring at the snow from the living room window. He was just a young man, around 19 years old. In that exact moment, while swimming in his thoughts, he realized he had forgotten something. Someone, in fact.
Bert stood up, smiling widely, and searched in his pockets, cheering in the inside after finding a pair of bills and some coins. He hurried to the door, not even waiting for one of his parents say something.
"For God's sake, Bert!" His mother screamed.
"Where are ya goin', son?" His father asked after her, a bit too loud maybe, still not sounding as mad as his mum, while standing up quickly and looking at his son confused. James Alfred was used to His son's wild thoughts and crazy plans, but this definitely caught him by surprise.
"To visit someone. Nobody should be left forgotten on Christmas. I might be a bit late tonight too. G' night!" Bert answered the same way and left. And as he ran, he felt his father's look behind him, full of doubt. But right now,the only thing in his mind was the person who lived next to them.
He stopped in front of the flower stand, his eyes immediatly stopping on the daisies to then give the man the coins he had. Now his pockets were empty.. again. He knew they were her favourites, or well, not perfectly sure. Bert indeed felt a bit scared that She would scold him or complain, just as she did most of the time.
He stopped before running into something, the river of thoughts being interrupted. The familiar house came to view, the chimney where he had hung upside down from he knew so well, and an extremly familiar face looking from the window in the living room.
Bert climbed up to the rooftop, not a big deal to him as he had done it every day. He sat on the edge of the chimney, holding on from it with his legs and letting himself fall upside down.
After what seemed 3 minutes, he knew he had been noticed, and was glad to see that funny nose peeking from below.
"What..? Bert?! What are you doing up there?!" Mary asked troubled, crossing her arms as she spoke, with her usual grouchy tone.
"Ho ho ho, surprise cleaning!" He said, and giggled at his own joke but cut it immediatly after noticing the mad expression still on her face. "Well, can I come down?" He asked, already feeling the blood going all the way down to his brain.
She rolled her eyes and made a sign with her head to tell him he it was okay. He 'flew back' to the roof quickly, and 'flew' because it indeed seemed he had the abillity to fly. Managing to slide down without getting hurt, he landed on his feet with a big "Pash!" and walked towards her, keeping the bouquet of flowers hidden behind his back. His face now covered in ash, it took Bert a couple of seconds to realize they were alone, something henwas tad thankful for. Both said nothing, spending a while in silence. Not a warm nice silence but a.. Weird, uncomfortable silence. Fortunately, she broke it, trying to have a look at the things hidden behind him with a slight smile and raised eyebrows.
"What's that?" She asked playfully.
"Oh, nothing, it's for... Glynis" He answered quickly, trying not to blush, without success. One thing was: he was a bad liar. Terrible indeed. Still, Mary's smile faded, replaced by a sad frown, like if it had been turned off, to then look away, seeming a bit hurt.
"It's for you" he confessed quickly, already feeling extremly guilty because lf the lie, and held the bouquet if diasies in front of him, smiling like an idiot. That happened everytime they talked, something he hated about himself too. 'Idiot', he said to himself inside his head. A surpised smile reapered on her face, along with a doubtfull look.
Before they had to go through another long silence, he gave her the flowers. She could just stare at them, or at least that's what he thought. "I heard Daisies were your favourites, but I wasn't sure.." He said quick yet shyly before she could even say a word. "I mean, I thought you said they were but uh- " Bert started to ramble, but decided to shut up as he felt his cheeks turning tomato red. Still, Mary giggled, and he could see how a couple of tears rolled down her cheeks. "Aw, Bert.." She said, smiling warmly and hugging him. A short quick hug. "Daisies are indeed my favourite flowers", she added as the hug was broken. Both again went quiet, just staring at the other and smiling slightly. During that time, their faces got closer and closer. The only thing lighting up the room were the lights of her family's Christmas tree. Bright colourful lights reflected also on the shiny ornaments. The living room felt warm and sweet, colurful and happy at the same time.
"Merry Christmas, Mary" He whispered, and he could even hear the tears streaming down her face. Not sad tears, but salty, tiny tears of joy.
"Thank you. Merry Christmas to you too, Bert" She replied, and before anything else was said or done, he leaned in and kissed her. And she kissed him back. None of them said anything. They just continued. Actually, they didn't need to say it at all. That moment, that silent moment, one of the most warm, the snow and the sharp cold air didn't matter at all. The smile of pine and gingerbread too. That moment; infite and perfect.
