I cannot believe you reblogged my photo, you are literally the only person to ever do so & you have honest to god made my freaking night. Like my jaw legitimately dropped when I saw the notification & the fact that your blog is all about "cute people" & cute animals? It makes absolutely NO SENSE why you'd go for a picture of MY face. But seriously, thank you so much, you are a lovely, lovely, wonderful person & you've made me really, really happy. Okay, I'll shut up & stop bothering you now.
Honestly, people like you are the reason why I run this blog. If I reblog 100 photos and make just one person feel like you did than it’s worth it to me. So you’re welcome beautiful person and thank you thank you thank you for your message
silentbutsure replied to your post:this constant teasing of the deliciously...
ARE YOU SERIOUS I WOULD HAVE WEPT REAL TEARS
Yes. After Quinn’s accident in season three, I considered turning my abandoned Amnesia!Rachel fic into an Awake!Quinn. I even rewrote the first scene. Like so:
Amidst her jumbled thoughts and growing fear, she feels Rachel squeeze her hand tightly. “Oh, God, Quinn. You’re awake,” she whispers in awe, tears beginning to fall without restraint. “Thank God, you’re finally awake.” The girl smiles tremulously, reaching out with her free hand to brush back a strand of Quinn’s hair before resting it on her cheek in an overly familiar gesture that Quinn doesn’t understand. “You’ve had us all so worried.”
Quinn wants to ask why, she wants to ask what happened, but she still feels so foggy and her head is still aching and she’s absolutely terrified, so she closes her eyes again, just for a moment, just to compose herself. Rachel’s hand over hers tightens painfully.
“Oh, no…no, don’t close your eyes again…please, Quinn, please don’t leave me…”
She does what Rachel asks on instinct and because the panic and desperation in the girl’s voice is impossible to ignore, but it doesn’t make any sense to Quinn. She’s only ever imagined Rachel Berry looking at her this way in her most fevered dreams.
“Am…am I dying?” she finally manages to rasp.
Rachel’s expression is pained, but she’s quick to say, “No,” though the word is weak and breathy. Her thumb brushes at the moisture on Quinn’s cheek, wiping away tears that Quinn hadn’t even known were there, and when Rachel speaks again, her voice is stronger and infused with a hint of the determination that had kept her standing strong against every insult and setback that she’s ever suffered. “You’re going to be just fine now. I promise.” She moves her hand away from Quinn’s face reluctantly and reaches over to press the call button.
Quinn watches Rachel’s every movement. She takes another fortifying breath and forces her voice to cooperate. “W-what happened?”
Rachel swallows thickly, her eyes briefly fluttering closed before meeting Quinn’s gaze. “There was an accident. Some drunken idiot ran a stop sign,” she trails off brokenly just as a nurse rushes into the room. The stocky redhead’s concerned expression relaxes as she gets closer to the bed, and she smiles kindly at Rachel.
“Is she responsive this time?” Rachel’s strained face brightens for the first time and she nods, but her attention remains on Quinn. “I’ll page Dr. Walters,” the nurse promises as she checks the monitors at Quinn’s bedside and makes some quick notations on her chart. She flashes a little grin before she turns to leave. “Welcome back, Ms. Fabray,” and Quinn irritably wonders where she’s supposed to be coming back from.
Quinn’s attention turns back to Rachel, and she frowns. “How bad is it?” she asks weakly, dreading the answer. She doesn’t stop to think that asking this of Rachel is probably inappropriate and so far beyond the boundaries of their tentative kind-of-friendship. She needs immediate answers more than she cares about etiquette right now.
Quinn watches Rachel’s jaw clench before the she hisses out a shaky breath. “We should probably wait for the doctor,” she hedges.
“Please,” Quinn cuts in desperately, “tell me.”
Rachel closes her eyes and swallows visibly. “The accident,” she begins, but her voice cracks almost immediately and she shakes her head in frustration. Her eyes stay tightly shut. “The impact was on the driver’s side,” she tries again in a tightly controlled monotone. “You were hit by a pickup truck. The frame b-buckled…and you…you w-were…pinned inside,” Rachel chokes out around a stifled sob. She swipes at the tears on her cheeks impatiently, and her eyes finally open only to stare fixedly at the opposite wall where the blind is closed against the window. “They had to cut you out,” she whispers brokenly.
Quinn listens to every word with a growing sense of horror and frustration, because she didn’t ask Rachel for a graphic play-by-play of the supposed accident that landed her here. She really just wants to know how badly she’s injured. She sucks in a breath and feels her lungs burn and her side ache, and then she curls her fingers into her palms, digging her nails in until she feels the pain. She surreptitiously glances down her body to see that her hands are indeed closed into fists. Rachel’s left hand still lightly resting over her wrist where Quinn can feel the warmth on her skin. Quinn attempts to wiggles her toes, but the sheet draped over her feet is mockingly still.
Paralyzed, she realizes with escalating dread, not realizing that she’s whispered the word out loud.
Rachel exhales on a shuddering breath. “T-there was some swelling around your spinal cord…and,” she chokes off a sob, but Quinn’s throat is tight and her heart is hammering, spiking the monitor into overdrive. She feels like she can’t breathe, and she certainly can’t see through the devastated tears spilling from her eyes. Rachel’s hand tightens over hers. “They don’t know that it’s permanent, Quinn. They’ll be able to…to evaluate your condition better now that you’re awake.”
She can’t speak past her pitiful sobs, and she can’t think past the painful realization that she might never walk again. “Where’s my mom?” she asks desperately, yearning for her mother’s arms to wrap her up and tell her everything will be okay.
“She just went for some coffee. She’ll be back any minute,” Rachel tearfully assures her.
Quinn focuses on her breathing, struggling to get it under control, and as she does so, she becomes even more aware of the pain she feels in her chest and torso and the devastating numbness below her waist. Little snippets of fuzzy memories start to filter back.
Yale. Regionals. Rachel’s wedding….
The pain in her chest intensifies, and she stifles another sob. Every repressed emotion that she’s ever felt for Rachel Berry rises up to torment her with what she’ll never have. And now she won’t even have her fresh start at Yale to look forward to.
Rachel presses her hand back to Quinn’s cheek, wiping her tears and sweeping her hair back as she tries to calm her. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay, Quinn. You’re the strongest person I know, and you’re going to be back on your feet in no time. We’ll get through this together,” she promises.
“What about Finn?” she spits weakly.
Rachel’s hand stills in her hair. “What about him?”
“He’s your husband now, isn’t he? You can’t make any promises to me.”
“What are you talking about, Quinn?” Rachel asks in genuine confusion. “I’m not married to Finn Hudson.”
Quinn’s vision isn’t 20/20 without her contacts, but it’s good enough to reveal that Rachel’s expression is genuinely confused and--horrified?
“You…you didn’t marry him?” Quinn breathes.
“Why in Barbra’s name would I marry that moron?” Rachel mutters in confusion, eyes suddenly going wide with worry as her fingers trace along Quinn’s forehead. “Oh, God. Dr. Walters said you might experience some disorientation, but…Quinn do you know what year it is?”
Quinn feels her stomach turn as she studies Rachel more closely—Rachel, whose hair is suddenly about four inches shorter and whose bangs have magically grown out and who--Jesus, who’s wearing a gold necklace with the letter Q.
I've been watching you're ME Let's Play, do you go with the soldier class for your Shepard?
Yes! I love the idea that my Shepard is just this powerhouse that can be dropped into a battlefield with a gun and tear through anything. She’s a front line soldier for sure ;)
silentbutsure said: Gotcha. That’s a very good standard to have. And I would LOVE to see Thao live, her music is amazing.
my friend was so smitten with her. he helped her with her band equipment. she's a sweet person. i was definitely in love with her when she performed "tallymarks." that and "bag of hammers" are my favorites. they're go-to shower songs haha.
