Chat 20572
Notes
Posted 11 seconds ago
  1. mom: you realize normal people don't have such strong feelings about the oxford comma
  2. me: THE OXFORD COMMA IS IMPORTANT
  3. mom: you realize this makes you a nerd
  4. me:
  5. mom:
  6. me: i had a party with the strippers, george bush and barack obama
  7. me: i had a party with the strippers, george bush, and barack obama
  8. me: without the comma, you are implying that george bush and barack obama are strippers
  9. mom:
  10. me:
  11. mom: this isn't normal
via castleoflions
Text 15
Notes
Posted 3 minutes ago

the art of boxes (chapter 3)

possibilistfanfiction:

[i promised frequent updates, so here you go :) title from florence and the machine’s “cosmic love.” i mention lykke li, so you should listen to “everybody but me” because it’s very quinn and very rachel and also it’s my favourite. i also mention zee avi. you can read this fic here, on my lj, or on ffn.]

.
part 1.
part 2.
…

three. the stars, the moon, they have all been blown out

.

“What are you up to after class on Thursday?” David asks, spinning his now-empty coffee cup around on the table.

“I have a thing right after, but then nothing. Did you have something in mind?” Quinn asks.

David raises his brows. “A thing? As in a hot lesbian thing?”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “Nope. A thing as in a doctor’s appointment.”

“Oh.” David pouts. “Well, I have studio time reserved on Thursday evenings if you’d like to come dance. We could get dinner or go shopping after if you wanted.”

Quinn smiles. “That sounds perfect.”

“Fantastic,” David says, taking the sleeve off of the coffee cup and folding it carefully.

Quinn takes a sip of her tea. Her hands feel clammy. “I—um, would it be weird if I asked you to come with me to my doctor’s appointment?”

“Is it a gynecologist?”

Quinn laughs. “No, no. Just a checkup thing. I was in a car accident six months ago so I just have to go and make sure I’m not going to randomly fall apart.”

“That wouldn’t be good.”

“Certainly not.”

“I’d be happy to accompany you, then.”

“Thanks. I just—sometimes I still get a little freaked out, and I usually go with my mom but obviously she’s not here, and—”

David raises his hollow cup and guides Quinn’s to meet it, clinking mutedly—paper against paper—in the air.

“A toast,” he says, “to not falling apart.”

Read More

via possibilistfanfiction
Text 49
Notes
Posted 10 minutes ago

the art of boxes (chapter 2)

possibilistfanfiction:

the art of boxes

.

[these updates might be a little shorter than my one-shots, but they’ll be frequent. listen to regina spektor’s “firewood” because she wrote it for faberry. you can read the story here, on my lj, or on ffn. part 1 here.]

…

two. sadness would rise from our bones and evaporate in sunlight the way morning fog burned off the river in summer

.

“I love your shoes,” he says, gesturing to her oxfords.

Quinn turns her head to glance at the guy next to her. He has dark, rich skin and even darker eyes, hair cropped close to his scalp. He’s tall and thin and Quinn’s pretty sure he’s a dancer. She smiles. “I love your shoes.”

He laughs. “Flea market in Berlin,” he says, then sits in the chair next to Quinn’s, so that they’re sharing the thin table. It’s the second day of syllabus week, and Quinn’s early to her first Analysis of Literature class because she’d left plenty of time for her to get lost and still find the right building, which hadn’t actually happened.

“I got mine in Ohio,” she says.

The guy smiles, offering his hand. “I’m David.”

“Quinn.”

David leans back in his chair. “So are you from Ohio?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

David pats her on the shoulder with a sympathetic pout. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’d never have guessed that.”

Quinn twirls her pen between her fingers. “That does, actually.”

“Excellent,” David says, adjusting his scarf. “I’m from Dallas.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“It’s okay. I’m from Ohio, remember?”

David smiles. So does Quinn, uncapping her pen and doodling a little in her brand new notebook.

“I’m a sophomore,” he says.

“Freshman.”

David says, “I’d never have guessed that either.”

Quinn laughs. “Excellent.”

Read More

via possibilistfanfiction
Audio 86
Notes
Posted 15 minutes ago
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Regina Spektor – Firewood

possibilistfanfiction:

“firewood” by regina spektor.

the piano is not firewood yet
they try to remember but still they forget
that the heart beats in threes
just like a waltz
and nothing can stop you from dancing

rise from your cold hospital bed
you’re not dying
everyone knows you’re going to live
so you might as well start trying

the piano is not firewood yet
but the cold does get cold
so it soon might be that
I’ll take it apart, call up my friends
and we’ll warm up our hands by the fire

don’t look so shocked
don’t judge so harsh
you don’t know
you are only spying
everyone knows it’s going to hurt
but at least we’ll get hurt trying

the piano is not firewood yet
but a heart can’t be helped
and it gathers regret
someday you’ll wake up and feel a great pain
and you’ll miss every toy you ever owned

you’ll want to go back
you’ll wish you were small
nothing can slow the crying
you’ll take the clock off of your wall
and you’ll wish it was lying

love what you have and you’ll have more love
you’re not dying
everyone knows you’re going to love
though there’s still no cure for crying

(Source: amourpourlecoeur)

via possibilistfanfiction
Text 36
Notes
Posted 16 minutes ago

the art of boxes (chapter one)

possibilistfanfiction:

[this is the first chapter of my college!faberry fic, as promised. it follows canon through s3. i’ll rec “1000 sundowns” by emma louise because it’s breathtaking. (you can read it here, or at my lj, or at ffn.)]

…

the art of boxes

.

so many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them.
—sylvia plath

…

one. box after box and you’re still by my side

.

“Don’t you dare touch that,” Santana says, walking up next to Quinn and bumping her hip lightly, pushing her away from the cardboard box sitting on the cement outside of her new dorm building.

“It’s not even heavy,” Quinn says, but she moves anyway.

Santana bends down and lifts the box, motions for Quinn to walk in front of her. “No way did I come all the way from New York just to watch you hurt your back. You’re pathetic in a wheelchair.”

Quinn rolls her eyes but as she opens the door she smiles softly. Santana walks by with a smile too.

Quinn follows Santana up two flights of stairs, making it to her dorm. She hasn’t met her roommate, but her stuff is already set up; there’s a Youth Lagoon poster tacked on the wall and a stack of biology and chemistry textbooks in one of the bookcases.

Quinn’s side of the room is currently five cardboard boxes, four suitcases, and a few totes full of pictures.

Santana puts down the last box, sighing. “That’s it then, right? I don’t have to carry any more of your shit?”

“I would’ve helped. And it’s not shit.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Santana sits down on the bare mattress.

“That’s it.”

“Awesome,” Santana says, lying back.

Quinn sits down on the bed next to her, and Santana takes Quinn’s hand.

“This is pretty nice.”

Santana sits up. “Yeah. It is.”

“My mom’ll be happy. She was worried I wouldn’t like the building or something.”

“So you and Judes are talking now?”

Quinn laughs. “You spent, like, half of the summer eating her food. At my house.”

“She’s a good cook. No wonder you were fat as a little kid.”

Quinn shakes her head with a smile. “Should we start unpacking?”

Santana sighs dramatically. “I suppose so.”

Read More

via possibilistfanfiction
Video 8
Notes
Posted 22 minutes ago

lillahtovpeace:

“Take me or leave me” by the musical Rent

via groundchele
Text 7143
Notes
Posted 23 minutes ago

badgermoles:

plot twist: my hips are actually compulsive liars

via swaans
Video 2691
Notes
Posted 24 minutes ago

littleolrabbit:

Going to the chapel and we’re

gonna get married

Remember when

via littleolrabbit
Video 5792
Notes
Posted 24 minutes ago

(Source: rivergron)

via fluent-in-lesbianism
Photo 50575
Notes
Posted 11 hours ago
teen-with-twins: my sister went to a dress up party. guess which one she is? Zoom

teen-with-twins:

my sister went to a dress up party. guess which one she is?

via fluent-in-lesbianism
Text 914
Notes
Posted 11 hours ago

Tumblr: The Secret Life of the American Lesbian.

(Source: everydaygay)

via fluent-in-lesbianism
Chat 11329
Notes
Posted 11 hours ago
  1. someone follows me: why
  2. someone unfollows me: why
via fluent-in-lesbianism
Photo 365
Notes
Posted 11 hours ago
via states
Video 1422
Notes
Posted 11 hours ago

(Source: finnicksbutt)

via fucktana
Photo 12083
Notes
Posted 11 hours ago
aromannamedrory: areyoutryingtodeduceme: loyalnerdwp: theconsultingdrag0n: prickedfinger: cakinator: honeyyoushouldseemeinacrown: finalproblem: finalproblem: New headcanon: Nobody at Scotland Yard knows how to flip the water bottle onto the cooler without spilling, so they never have water to drink. The detectives just stand around the water cooler staring longingly. Did a post about a water bottle in the background really just get more than 1000 notes in under three hours? Oh, fandom. Never change. I SHOULDN’T FIND IT HARD TO STOP LAUGHING AT THIS BUT I CANT HELP IT OH GOD I blame Anderson. I BLAME ANDERSON. I BLAME ANDERSON. “Anderson, why isn’t the water cooler set up?” “I can’t figure it out!” “Christ, do I have to call Sherlock for everything?!” I think you mean: “Anderson, why isn’t the water cooler set up?” “Not my division.”

aromannamedrory:

areyoutryingtodeduceme:

loyalnerdwp:

theconsultingdrag0n:

prickedfinger:

cakinator:

honeyyoushouldseemeinacrown:

finalproblem:

finalproblem:

New headcanon: Nobody at Scotland Yard knows how to flip the water bottle onto the cooler without spilling, so they never have water to drink. The detectives just stand around the water cooler staring longingly.

Did a post about a water bottle in the background really just get more than 1000 notes in under three hours?

Oh, fandom. Never change.

I SHOULDN’T FIND IT HARD TO STOP LAUGHING AT THIS BUT I CANT HELP IT

OH GOD

I blame Anderson.

I BLAME ANDERSON.

I BLAME ANDERSON.

“Anderson, why isn’t the water cooler set up?”

“I can’t figure it out!”

“Christ, do I have to call Sherlock for everything?!”

I think you mean:

“Anderson, why isn’t the water cooler set up?”

“Not my division.”

via blainefapderson