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

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. 

rewdmello·:

who: @quinneths· where: Near the pool what: Carew’s just really sick of her shit

He was already annoyed. That much he was certain, was obvious in the way he’d kept to himself almost the entirety of the night. He didn’t want to be bothered anymore than he wanted to get in this fight tonight. But neither of which seemed to be his choice when he found himself coming face to face with none other than their golden girl herself’s cousin. Quinn Morrison. Someone initially he really liked to believe he would have gotten along with. Intellectually he could appreciate just about anyone who seemed smart enough to keep up with him. But her personality? In comparison it was like nails on a chalk board. If he wasn’t afraid of getting in two arguments that evening he’d have passed her on all together. But he decided against being rude when she stopped in front of him. “Quinn..” He started, not quite willing to make eye contact with her. “Didn’t expect you to want to be at something like this.” He suggested, glancing down to finally meet her gaze. He wasn’t sure how the hell he’d handle a party thrown by a missing relative but it sure as hell seemed like one he’d wish to avoid himself. 

               quinn   was   bored   and   that   was   bad   news   for   everyone.   a   middle   child,   and   a   spoiled   one   at   that,   her   reflexive   reaction   was   to   start   pushing   the   buttons   of   whoever   she   could   find   as   entertainment.   even   better   if   there   was   already   bad   blood   there.   she   spotted   carew   in   the   standing   crowd   and   made   a   beeline.   quinn   didn't   have   a   particular   dislike   for   the   junior.   far   from   it;   she   found   his   mind,   and   looks,   attractive.   what   she   did   have   was   an   awareness   that   she   ground   his   gears   for   whatever   reasons...      it   wasn't   like   he   made   a   secret   of   it.   while   she   theorised   he   actually   secretly   enjoyed   their   back   and   forth,   quinn   knew   she   was   mostly   in   this   for   herself.   she   stared   up   at   him   until   he   looked   back. "i   don't.   but   what   would   the   masses   say   if   i   didn't   come?"

@aceofportsmouth​

QUINN MORRISON @ greer’s birthday pool party

ironlvngs·:

     they really began to rack their mind through every trick that he learned throughout the years trying to figure out where she was going to go with this as she led them towards the showers. and then when she turned the tap on, explaining to him exactly how it would work. as she explained, he found himself grinning at her. “ and if you ever wonder why i’ve been so deeply attracted to you, morrison, do remember this moment. ” he says as he puts the cigarette up to his lips, offering to light hers first before going for his. “ so, why are you hiding in here ? ”  

               —she   held   the   cigarette   between   her   forefinger   and   middle   and   leaned   forward   to   the   flame,   wrapping   her   lips   around   the   filter   and   inhaling.   the   paper   and   tobacco   crackled   and   the   ember   took.   quinn's   eyes   flicked   up   to   them,   the   green   in   her   hazel   eyes   brighter   in   her   purple   ensemble.   "you're   attracted   to   anything   you   can't   have,   link..."   the   blonde   answered   after   exhaling   a   stream   of   smoke.   at   least,   that   was   her   running   theory,   if   it   were   true   to   begin   with.   "who's   hiding?"

Florence Pugh (Tiffany & Co, 2022)

               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.