This silly thing is for you, Yin, because how cute is that concept I mean really. 

“Are we there yet?”


Today is Siku’s 1st birthday! You can wish Siku a happy birthday here.

Photo by Cats_in_blue on Flickr


omg she recognizes me on video chat

the third one


See that guy?
That’s me.
My name’s Eli and I’m just your typical Homecoming King of 2012..
but I’m a trans* guy.

 I ran for Homecoming King not for the popularity or the attention but to just see if I could do it. It’s my last year of highschool, and I’m openly out.

I was against 2 football playing jocks that everrrrrryone knew, and I was known as “the girl that’s apparently a dude now”.

On Friday, September 14, 2012, was Homecoming Night, and the guests were given Homecoming ballets once walking into the doors. I instantly knew that I was going to lose. While the night was going on, I suddenly had many friends and strangers tell me they voted for me.. as the end of the night arrived, and the King nominations were told to come front and center to be announced, I felt sick..

All of a sudden, I heard my name, and I was shocked. Hearing the screams and applause from the crowd, I was given my sash and my crown. I got congratulated by soooo many people.

The best part was having 4 random teachers come up to me and say that the admired my courage to even run for Homecoming Court and that this showed that a lot of people are open minded in my school now.

This helped my self esteem by so much. I feel like me being trans* is not going to stop me from making a stand and making a difference.

I DO feel like a king. 


Prompt: Quinn makes Rachel breakfast in bed before her first day playing the lead in a Broadway show.

Ships: Faberry (obviously), Westberry (brotp)

Summary: Rachel Fabray-Berry wakes up with butterflies in her stomach eleven hours before she’s due to debut as Elphaba Fabala Fae. Her wife thinks it’s better to be filled with pancakes instead.

Word count: 826

For Bobbie [teadalek]

On the morning of the day she’s waited for since she was approximately eight months old, Rachel Fabray-Berry’s stomach is in knots the second she opens her eyes. Her hand seeks the warmth of her wife’s body next to her, but Quinn’s side of the bed is cool, the sheet wrinkled but the edge of the comforter tucked close to her own body. She sighs, turning her face into the pillow, shivers beginning to make their way from her sternum to her toes.

Rachel glances at the clock. 8:30 A.M.

She sighs and sits up, pulling her hair off her neck. She won’t have to take the stage until 7:00 that night, which seems simultaneously like an infinite amount of time and a second from now. For all the years she spent wishing, aching, for this moment, Rachel feels like she would be perfectly okay if it was postponed for at least a few more hours.

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