Quinneths - 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣'𝕤 𝕡𝕖𝕥

Catherynne M. Valente, The Bread We Eat in Dreams; “Mouse Koan”

          ———      ⁂      This year at Ogden, Quinn had bought herself a townhouse in the local area as a birthday present. Living in dorms freshman year without somewhere to escape to had driven her half mad. A librarian had given her the idea; one of the many mornings she showed up groggy and incoherent from lack of sleep. You're rich rich. Why not buy somewhere? It hit her like a train. Veering on the sensible side, she still kept paying her dorm [ Waverly #206 ] for when she needed to be on campus. Tonight was one of those nights, with a biochem midterm stupid early in the morning.                                       She didn't know what had triggered such a petty tactic... other than the fact she merely existed. At exactly 10pm her dorm mate had decided it was the perfect time for flute practice. He just continued, getting louder and louder. Eventually, after leaving the dorm for a walk and coming back, she had enough and jumped up from her bed — grabbing the flute from his two hands and smacking it against the wall. The head joint fell to the floor with a clang. It was probably dented. He just laughed and said Bianca was right.                                      The phrase ringing through her head carried her slippered feet all the way to Linden. Quinn was FURIOUS. The sophomore didn't know if this was a Greek rivalry thing or a Pre-Med thing but whatever it was, tonight was not the night. She wrapped her knuckles furiously against Bianca's door. After she answered, Quinn dropped the rest of the flute at her feet.

                       ❝  I  need  you  to  stop  giving  your  minions  ideas  !  ❞

open / closed starter location: late night at linden housing / bianca’s dorm

the loud knocking on her door nearly made her jump out of her skin. she scrunched her eyebrows together as she hurried to finish moisturizing her face before leaving the bathroom. bianca didn’t want whoever to get the chance to pound on her door again. besides, it was late and she wasn’t expecting anyone, or was she? if she did, she forgot about their plans. bianca opened the door and plastered a smile on her face before speaking, confusion still written on her face. ❝it’s nearly midnight and you knocking on the door like you’re the police,❞ she shook her head. the pace her heart was beating would’ve given an old man a heart attack. ❝you needed something?❞

kitkallberg·:

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Bonk! The impact of whatever that was knocked Kit’s head forward, the sudden movement uncomfortable on his neck. “Ow…” From the sound of the thump, he was guessing what assaulted him was one of those beach balls people were throwing around. His hand sought the place where it struck, fingers rubbing at the base of his skull. Who the heck? He turned around. A look of surprise bloomed on his features when he saw who the culprit was. Or at least strongly might have been. “Quinn, was that you?” Even under the influence of something, Kit knew to be doubtful. Quinn wasn’t exactly the type after all.

               she   blinked   incredulously   in   response   to   kit's   query   and   then,   for   dramatic   effect,   turned   to   look   behind   herself   while   laying   her   palm   over   her   sternum.   "who   —   me?"   the   blonde   continued,   "of   course   not."   being   the   ever-confident   liar   she   was,   quinn   took   the   hand   from   her   chest   and   used   it   to   point   behind   her   shoulder.   "i'm   sure   it   came   from   over   there.   are   you   injured?"

if a guy calls you princess in a condescending manner what you do is you assert your newly appointed royal status and you have him beheaded

montyrichler·:

.

“Oh, shit.” Steps halted, he made a move to pat down his jean pockets, although it seemed pretty likely that the Juul she was holding out to him was indeed his – how many people plastered their vapes with Tweety Bird stickers? “Thanks. Another couple hours and I would’ve been spiraling into the painful grips of nicotine withdrawal,” Monty joked with a smile, somewhat surprised that Quinn of all people was the one to return it to him. She tended to be a hater of most things fun, and because of that, he clipped right along to ask, “Are you expecting a finder’s fee? ‘Cause I was just headed over to the campus café. That one librarian got on my ass about having open drinks around the books, again.”

          ———      ⁂      At his joke, Quinn raised a brow and smile. The expression was one of amusement, rather than judgement. She had learned by now that nagging Monty was the same as shouting at paint to dry. ❝ Of course not. If you want to die from lipoid pneumonia, that's between you and your poor lungs. I'll come for a coffee though. Hold on,❞ She held up a single finger to signal a minute. ❝ Just let me get my bag. ❞ The sophomore pushed in past the library's double doors.

               a   freshman   approaches   her   with   a   green   glow   stick.   quinn   politely   declines,   waving   her   hand   to   shoo   them   away;   bravado   she   would   later   come   to   regret.   she   enters   with   the   confidence   she   was   born   into.   a   steadfast   belief   she's   above   it   all—   you   know   the   type:   everyone   else   but   me.   exclusivity   from   human   frailty.   closer   to   god   than   man.   it   was   the   morrison   way   and   quinn   was   not   immune.

               at   first,   she's   presented   with   options:   a   staircase   with   a   ghoulish   figure   looming   and   a   claustrophobic   hallway   of   chains.   she   would   rather   take   on   an   opponent   she   can   see   so   she   chooses   the   stairs.   as   expected,   the   robed   figure   lunges   at   her   as   she   reaches   the   top.   she   pushes   back,   laughing.   this   wasn't   scary.   this   was   corny.   this   was   camp.   it   was   a      kkg   event   after   all.   she   should   have   known   to   lower   her   expectations.

               quinn   has   little   interest   in   the   party   laying   ahead;   the   same   as   every   year   before.      in   fact,   she's   only   making   an   appearance   because   that   was   what   was   expected   of   the   greek   letters.   for   all   the   rivalry   between   them,   they   made   sure   to   show   up   to   each   other's   occasions   as   a   point   of   cooperation.   she   was   tri   delt's   vice   president   of   recruitment,   so   personal   choice   was   outside   the   equation.   she   did   her   best   not   to   be   the   rain   on   everyone's   parade...   by   this   point   in   the   halloween   season,   in   all   honesty,   her   social   battery   was   draining   fast.

               she   moves   forward   through   the   haunted   house,   coiled   hair   bouncing   on   her   proud   shoulders.   the   sophomore   finds   herself   in   an   empty   room.   her   first   impression?   apathetic.   the   room   is   wallpapered   white   with   some   pictures   plastered   on   top.      she   gets   closer.   curiosity,   as   usual,   reaping   bitter   fruit.   

she   recognises   a   word   emblazoned   over   and   over   again   in   bold   block   letters.   

          MISSING         

the   brunette   steps   back,   first   in   shock,   then   again   in   disgust.   a   weight   drops   in   her   abdomen.   with   a   nauseous   gulp,   she   turns   and   walks   out   as   fast   as   her   tiny   frame   is   able.   blinded   by   revulsion,   quinn   opens   the   next   door   she   sees,   hoping   for   an   exit.   she   isn't   paying   attention.   the   memory   of   greer   is   suffocating   her   senses   just   enough   for   idle   complacency   to   mutate   into   foolishness.   this   next   room   is   pitch   black   and   out   from   the   shadows   comes   a   paunchy   man   dressed   as   a   clown   —   face   paint   and   all.   he   makes   a   grab   for   her.   quinn   screams.

                      by   the   time   she   runs   all   the   way   back   to   the   entrance   she's   pale   and   clammy.   she   falters   over   the   front   step,   vision   blurred,   and   vomits.   exorcist-style.