tell me true // (sarah jarosz) : do you think of me the way i think of you? / do you hope for things that most likely won’t come true? / do you dream of me like i dream of you? / tell me darlin’ / please tell me true

no envy, no fear // (joshua radin) : every day we try to find / search our hearts and our minds / the place we used to call our home / can’t be found when we’re alone / so have no envy and no fear

candles // (daughter) : well i have brittle bones it seems / i bite my tongue and i torch my dreams / i have a little voice to speak with / and a mind of thoughts and secrecy

long, hot summer days // (sara watkins) : gonna pick up some of these empties here / just as soon as we know where they lay / tied off them jolly and leaving lines / on a long hot summer day

southern girl // (incubus) : you’re an exception to the rule / you’re a bonafide rarity / you’re all i ever wanted / southern girl / could you want me?

gypsy // (sarah jarosz) : i saw a gypsy today / she was beautiful / i couldn’t look away / she was yellow and gray / the colors of the day / a bit too gorgeous / and not much to say

robin and marian // (nickel creek)

the lion’s roar // (first aid kit) : well i guess sometimes i wish you were a little more predictable / that i could read you just like a book / for now i can only guess what’s coming next / by examining your timid smile

forever young [cover] // (audra mae & the forest rangers) : may your hands always be busy / may your feet always be swift / may you have a strong foundation / when the winds of changes shift

overjoyed // (matchbox twenty) : and if you want / we’ll share this life / any time you need a friend i’m gonna be by your side / when nobody understands you / well i do

annabelle lee // (sarah jarosz) : we were both children in this kingdom by the sea / but we loved with a love that was more than love / i and my annabelle lee / with a love that the winged angels high / coveted her and me

this little light of mine // (elizabeth mitchell) : everywhere i go / i’m gonna let it shine / let it shine / let it shine

make ‘em laugh [cover] // (darren criss) : my dad he said / be an actor my son / but be a comical one / they’ll be standing in lines / for that old honkytonk monkeyshines

storm comin’ // (the wailin’ jennys) : when that love calls / will you open up your door? / you gotta stand on up and let it in / you gotta let love through your door

only the good die young [cover] // (glee cast) : you might have heard i run with a dangerous crowd / we ain’t too pretty / we ain’t too proud / we might be laughing a bit too loud / but that never hurt no one

young and beautiful // (lana del rey) : hot summer nights / mid july / when you and i were forever wild / the crazy days / city lights / the way you’d play with me like a child / will you still love me when i’m no longer young and beautiful?

you are my sunshine (part 1) // (elizabeth mitchell) : you are my sunshine / my only sunshine / you make me happy / when skies are gray / you’ll never know dear / how much i love you / please don’t take my sunshine away

first and last waltz // (nickel creek)

little lion man // (mumford & sons) : tremble little lion man / you’ll never settle any of your scores / your grace is wasted in your face / your boldness stands alone among the wreck

carnival // (nora jane struthers & the party line) : i want to see the bearded lady in her yellow dress / i want to pray for the man on the high wire / i want to gawk at the grizzly bear’s arabesque / and the man who’s breathing fire / oh how does a man breathe fire?

any other name // (thomas newman)

buffalo gals // (university of utah singers) : i want to make that gal my wife / gal my wife / gal my wife / then i’d be happy all my life if i had her with me

passion play // (william fitzsimmons) : are you still on my back after all these years? / chasing me out of hell and my nice veneers? / i don’t know how you stand when you’ve got no floor / or how you can breathe with your hands on boards

what i wouldn’t do // (a fine frenzy) : if i were old my dearest / you would be older / but i would crawl upon your lap / wrap a blanket round our frail little shoulders / and i’d die happily like that

performance [from the butterfly circus] // (timothy williams)

run away // (sarah jarosz) : i buried my heart in a willow tree / you came along / gave it back to me / now we’re creatures of the night / we set each other free / run away with me

(X)

(Source: crazyfornaynay, via waddlingdodo)

(Source: anothergayshark)

Santana can only imagine the kinds of things that a man as hardened as Mr. Pierce might say under the effects of such a powerful drug. She hates to think of him insulting Brittany or cursing Brittany or blaming Brittany for things which aren’t Brittany’s fault. Santana recalls how keenly it stung when her own grandmother died spewing maledictions about her; she hates to think how she would have felt if it had been Papa who had spoken about her in that way. Brittany seems so small just now and Santana’s heart aches.

When Abuela started to hate her, Santana stopped talking to the old woman—stopped going in to see her and trying to give her comfort. Since Abuela wouldn’t have changed her mind anyway, and it wounded Santana too deeply to even stand in Abuela’s presence, Santana had started avoiding her.

Brittany doesn’t avoid her father, though.

“Golly,” Santana whispers.

Brittany quirks an eyebrow. “What?”

Santana tries to explain what strikes her. “It’s just—,” she says. “It’s just that you don’t ever seem to mind your father, even though he says cruel things to you.” She pets over Brittany’s wrist again, absentminded. “He just seems like a hard person to be around, is all.”

Brittany shrugs.

“He wasn’t always,” she says, as if that’s the entire matter.

But it isn’t.

She shrugs again.

“When it was time to meet the new baby, Sam’s mama told me it was my job to heat the rags on the hearth and bring them over to her, but Daddy had to stay out in the hall. It was night and we were at a hotel, but the room had electric lamps, so everyone could see. Sam’s mama kept saying how good everything was, but then it wasn’t anymore—good. There was so much blood all over the bed sheets and on floor and on Sam’s mama’s shoes. Mama wanted us with her, so Daddy had to come inside. Mama put my hand in Daddy’s and she said to him, ‘Darlin’, Brittany will take care of you and you’ll take care of Brittany.’ I left the last rag on too long. It singed the edge and smelled like wet leaves in the cooking fire.”

Brittany shrugs for a third time.

“Daddy and I are supposed to take care of each other now.”

Brittany has spoken about her mother’s death to Santana on two other occasions since they’ve known each other, but never has she done so in as much detail as she does now. Before today, Brittany had never mentioned how her mother died. She also hadn’t told Santana that she was in the room to see it happen. Santana feels a pang and wraps her hand around Brittany’s wrist, holding her.

“Oh, Britt,” she says, “I’m sure you didn’t mean to burn it.” Then, “I’m sorry about your mama.”

Brittany nods and reaches down, closing her hand around Santana’s hand, like the inside spiral of a seashell coiled about itself. She gives Santana’s fingers a squeeze and fixes Santana with a queer look, peering out from underneath her hair.

“You don’t remember your mama at all?” she asks.

Santana shakes her head. “No,” she admits. “I don’t even know what she looked like.”

It’s strange, Santana thinks, that two girls could be bereft of their mothers in such very different ways and yet share a single sense of grief concerning their experiences. Brittany lost her mother, whereas Santana never really had her mother in her life to begin with, but still both of them carry a notion of missing something that they can’t quite name—that they can’t describe, though they know precisely what it is.

Brittany gives Santana’s fingers another squeeze. “I’ll bet your mama was really beautiful,” she says.

Santana nods, her throat suddenly thick again. “I’ll bet yours was, too.”

(X)

(Source: dylanome)

(Source: brittanypierce, via thatllwork)

(Source: naomicamp)

Britt’s face appreciation ♥

(via drlaurenlewis)

In those lonely days between Abuela’s death and Papa’s, Santana spent her time cooped up in the bachelor cottage, hardly using her voice at all, with no one to keep her company at chores, except sometimes for Puck, who would smile his idiot smile at Santana through the windows while he washed them or as he trimmed the roses and Sweet Williams in the garden, grinning at Santana as she read her books, seeing her without comprehending her at all, always through a pane of glass and from some ways away.

On rare occasions, Santana would invite Puck inside the bachelor cottage and offer him lemonade or tea rolls just to have someone with whom she could make conversation until Papa arrived in the evenings. It wasn’t that she wanted to talk to Puck, in particular—just that she wanted someone around.

But even inviting Puck inside didn’t cure Santana’s loneliness.

Puck could talk to Santana for hours without ever saying anything to her. He could watch her read every book from the Grolier Club shelves and never see her once, no matter where she sat in the latticework light of late afternoon around the house.

He never knocked on the door for her and he never found her, though she hid in plain sight.

Even Papa never did.

Santana always just wanted someone to find her.

(Brittany always does.)

For so many months, Santana longed to feel anything but lonely, and the thing is that she hasn’t felt that—hasn’t felt lonely—since the circus stopped in Worthington and she sat down to sew riding habits at the trisection of tents.

Brittany fills every empty corner in Santana’s bachelor cottage heart.

(X)