Catherine Chidgey, from 'Remote Sympathy'
——— ⁂ Quinn had spent the day now gone at her apartment in town. She needed to decompress. The amount of studying she was forcing herself to do wasn't healthy. She knew that, she did, and yet she carried on. Part of it was the same anxiety she had carried her whole life: that at some point, she would get complacent and fail horribly for everyone to see. She had come so close a few times. Mostly it was a distraction. If Quinn worked herself to the bone, there wouldn't be time to think about her missing cousin, the heightened public interest in her family, her tangled feelings. It had taken accidentally crashing in the library last night for her to finally take a day off. Was it a waste of a day? Absolutely. But that was what she needed. Challenging herself to a chocolate macaron recipe by Pierre Hermé, the sun had long set by the time she had 24 little iced meringues she was content enough with.
Walking back to campus, sealed tupperware hugged tightly in her arms, Quinn was wrapped in a thick woollen coat that grazed her ankles. She imagined she might cut an intimidating figure in the shadows if she wasn't the height of nothing. The sophomore hadn't noticed it was Ollie walking ahead of her until he turned around. She grinned. ❝ Would you like to bleed out fast and get it over with or nice and slow so you can ponder over all your terrible life choices ? ❞
Near the dorms, Late Wednesday Night. ( open ! )
It was colder outside than Ollie had thought as he walked from the dorms to the nearby 7-11 to get a Big Gulp late at night, and back again. He’d spent more than enough time in his room, really only leaving for one of two reasons. Going to class, or visiting Monty(/replenishing his supply). But he couldn’t last all week in a dark room sitting in front of a computer screen working out this phone tracking issue, and sorting out any pre mid-term issues he was having before that time of the year came up out of no where, like it seemed to every year. It was one of the busiest times of the year for his business, but also one of the most lucrative, so he wouldn’t complain. It was nice to get some fresh air, despite the nearly freezing temperatures as he walked along the campus sidewalk back towards Waverly, chewing on the bright red straw from the large plastic cup in his hand, slowing when he started to notice foot steps behind him. “Please tell me you’re following me because you’re planning on stabbing me, that will solve so many of my problems,” he said, turning to see who it was behind him. “Please?”
artwork by @holly-warbs
[ID: Digital art that has been broken up into four panels. It is of a person wearing a long blue coat and blue pants with a green backpack, with long black hair and a pale face. They are reaching out to a white, translucent figure next to them. The background gives a vague impression of a field, and blue and purple night sky. White text has been added that reads, “Is it haunting? If I’m the one leaving open a crack in the window.” END ID]
ironlvngs·:
instead of denying, he shrugs at her — he’s never denied the attraction he’s had to her before. to her face, at least… in front of greer ? well, he had to keep up appearances, no ? plus, the ongoing illusion of what’s going on between greer and link ?? would be shattered, if he publicly went for her cousin. “ it’s human nature, isn’t it ? why are we constantly breaking the rules otherwise ? besides that, though, you hold your head up high. that’s attractive. ” he responds, leaning back against the wall after exhaling his smoke into the running water. “ well, you’re in this locker room alone.. in the middle of the party. planning a costume change or hiding ? can’t be anything else. ”
she smiled coyly. "i was waiting for someone interesting to show up, and they did, but i'm appalled by your lack of imagination." quinn stubbed her half-smoked cigarette out on the white tile; it hissed against the moisture as it died. before she could think herself out of it, quinn nimbly swung herself over his lap so that she was straddled on top. the skin of her thighs met his jeans and she hoped she had picked the right moment to make a move. as her hands weaved lightly behind link's neck, she looked into his eyes and thought of all the late nights he left her on read. all the contemptible craving, despite her better judgement. "don't you know how much fun a woman can have while everyone thinks she's alone?"
It makes your heart race. It turns the world upside-down. But if you’re not careful, if you don’t keep your eyes on something still, you can lose your balance, you know?
PRACTICAL MAGIC (1998) dir. Griffin Dunne
𝕨𝕙𝕠 @ironlvngs 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 the pool party 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 late into the evening, the attendees are suitably buzzed
she sat alone in the men's locker room. after a failed attempt to complete her dare, quinn was toying with the idea of giving up and going home. while she didn't want the anonymous 'g' spilling her secrets— she also knew if they did, they'd have little left to blackmail her with. was it worth the risk? as tempting as it was, at this time in the term; absolutely not. it was still early enough in the year that the whispers would follow her into next. that paired with greer's disappearance and she would be a laughing stock. she cared too much about her reputation for that.
so she fell on her backup plan... as shameful as it was. the scheme was basic, a little desperate and it relied on the base desire of even the most prudish college students to give in to their lust. ogden students in particular had a proclivity for believing they were god given gifts. if she targeted someone she had some kind of history with, someone she knew would fall for her flirting, quinn was sure she could pull this off.
just as the blonde was about to get up from the bench and go back into the main hall where the pool, and most of the party, still was, lady luck dropped a prize goose into her lap. she tilted her head as the door swung shut behind link. the overheads were off and the light was low. still, she could make out their silhouette from that mop head they called hair. "you better not be following me, crawford." she sung into the space between them, her voice honeyed and inviting.