Quinneths - 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣'𝕤 𝕡𝕖𝕥

Florence Pugh promoting ‘Black Widow’ in Paris on July 6, 2021

ironlvngs·:

     the pill ( or was it more than one ? link couldn’t even remember anymore ) that he’d gotten from ollie earlier was definitely at the forefront right now, and it mixed quite well with the loud music and bodies going in and out of the pool. though, even with that, link knew that he was due for a breather soon — and he was sick and tired of freezing his ass off outside when he goes for a cigarette. 

    so this time, they opted for another five second hiding spot — the locker rooms. though, there was sincere doubt in his mind that there weren’t a couple people in there already fucking each other. to his luck, though, upon opening the doors, it seemed a bit quiet. that is, until her voice came through just as he shut the door behind him. 

   link turns around to face her, unable to keep the grin from forming on his lips at her comment. “ i’d follow you through a thousand storms, quinnie, and i’m sure you know that — but following you to a bathroom ? or… locker room, whatever this is. that’s a level of creepy i’d like to stay away from. ” he scoffs, looking up the ceilings, wondering if he could get past the smoke detectors if he smoked in here. “ — and it pains me deeply that you think of me that way. ”

               quinn   rolled   her   eyes,   albeit   as   confused   as   ever   internally   by   link's   hyperbole.   he   had   a   way   of   saying   the   most   insincere   words   in   the   most   genuine,   charming   way.   it   made   you   second   guess   yourself   —   which   she   suspected   was   exactly   how   they   liked   it.    "be   pained,   then."   she   retorted.   in   her   defence:   it   was   bewildering   to   have   someone   flirt   with   you   privately   and   then   lowkey   act   like   you   didn't   exist   with   an   audience.   

               she   noted   the   box   of   cigarettes   in   their   hand.   the   blonde   stood   up   and   stretched   her   arms   in   an   arc   before   making   link   an   offer.   "lend   me   a   smoke   and   i'll   show   you   an   old   private   school   trick."

Curtains (1983) dir. Richard Ciupka

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?"

          ———      ⁂      Quinn's panic attacks had a certain rhythm. First - the freakout, the reaction, the fight or flight. Adrenaline keeping her buoyant through stormy waters. Then - the crash. After what was a horrible experience at KKG's Haunted House, she took an uber home and nosedived into bed. While her peers partied, she overslept, which she had to admit to herself was very Quinn Morrison.

                                     She'd found herself a corner in The Commons and made a home of a grand leather armchair, an americano occupying one hand (in a reusable cup of course) and a book hinged open with the other. Her eyes were beginning to sting from reading. She looked up from the page and connected with Parker. The junior wasn't looking quite her usually pristine self. It was in the small details: slightly puffy eyes, fallen curls, no glow. Quinn smiled sympathetically.

                                                 ❝    Hungover  ?    ❞

who: open where: the commons when: tuesday, november 1st

the commons bustled with just about all of the energy one could expect after a night like halloween. that was to say, not that much. students mulled around the coffee shop, nursing hangovers and trying to finally jump start their day, now that it was past noon. and though parker had washed off all of the spare glitter and showered away all of the alcohol smell one possibly could, spiritually, she was right there with them. one knee bent towards her chest, she’d been curled into the far side of an otherwise vacant couch. red, now loose curls—the remnants of last night’s hairstyle—shielded her profile as she gazed down at a small stack of papers.

august 29th, the letters, the first day of school…

drawing and releasing a deep breath, parker rested her chin in the palm of her hand and looked up. eyes glazed over the space without much purpose until locking eyes with someone nearby. her head shook and eyes blinked, snapping out of her daze with quiet laughter. “hey,” parker called out, resting her forearms over the paper. “sorry, i’m lagging by, like… thirty seconds today.”

g: you try so hard, quinn. but the truth is, you still always resented me, didn’t you? g: well, let’s see if we can fix that. i dare you to actually let loose and have some fun - go convince someone to switch tops with you. 

montyrichler·:

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“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.

isabellafm​:

Bella stopped in her tracks, sighing, rolling her eyes, the works because, oh my god — “Proud of you for your good deed, Sandra Dee, but that’s totally not mine.” She poked her head towards the pencil case in Quinn’s hand; it was a tacky orange color, completely outside of her color scheme, and god forbid she ever used mechanical pencils. Good lord. “Though, I’m not against opening it up and digging through. Might be some goodies inside, y’know?” 

          ———      ⁂      Quinn blinked at being called Sandra Dee. She'd heard it before. Her jaw clenched, wanting to react but knowing it wasn't worth it with Bella. ❝ Oh, ❞ she held back. The pencil case had been sitting by Bella in the library but must've been left before she arrived. Quinn pulled her arm in and held the item close to her chest, pulling a frown at the fellow legacy. ❝ I think not. ❞