Quinneths - 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣'𝕤 𝕡𝕖𝕥

“by the time i’ve finished with you, you won’t know whether you’ve been kissed or cut, whether you were loved or butchered. and either way you probably won’t care, just grateful you came close enough to touch.”

— Warsan Shire, “under their breath, someone said.”

bvwie·:

— 𝙊𝙋𝙀𝙉 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙍

WHERE right outside of the linden dorms 

     “ shh, please, be quiet — ” he desperately whispers into his backpack, which was now being carried at the very front of him, with the bag facing wherever he was walking. but it was as if bowie was just talking to a helpless baby animal, the kitten hidden in his backpack only meowed louder back in response. maybe this wasn’t his brightest idea. he stops in his tracks, when he realizes that he was about to walk into someone else. “ shit, sorry — ” and just as he began to apologize, the kitten meowed from the half open bag once again. he looked straight at the person in front of him. “ — don’t mind that, that’s just… my alarm. going off. i like to wake up to meows. ” he says confidently, as though that wasn’t the stupidest strain of words to leave his lips. “ on a very separate, hypothetical note… is it a Big Ogden Crime if i try to sneak a pet into the dorms ? i’m asking for my friend. ” at this point, he’d given up, a grin already making its way onto his lips. 

               quinn   swivelled,   ready   to   apologise   in   return,   when   she   registered   that   it   was   bowie.   she   was   just   about   to   ask   how   his   day   was   going   when   a   noise   escaped   his   bag.   was   that...   a   meow?   she   peered   at   the   backpack.   "alarm,   huh?"   quinn   humoured   him.   "totally   hypothetically   —   kinda.   definitely   a   health   violation.   possibly   a   suspension.   that   wouldn't   be   something   you   were   thinking   of   doing,   would   it?"

Quinn’s apartment 🌺

© Kate Sears, x

kitkallberg·:

-

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 MORRISON @ greer’s birthday pool party

JESSICA SULA in PANIC

1.01

kitkallberg·:

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Of course not followed by Quinn gesturing over her shoulder. Kit didn’t know what to believe. His face crumpled in confusion. “Uhh no,” he answered. “I mean, it was a beach ball so it’s not like I’m injured. It hurt just a bit.” Whoever whacked that ball had some serious fire in their palms. He continued to rub the back of his head for a moment more before dropping his hand to his side. “But uh, hey,” he greeted. “Are you…” Having a good time? No, that wasn’t the right thing to ask. “You’re here,” he decided to say instead. A bit surprised Quinn showed up at all.

               —quinn   tittered.   "no   shit,   sherlock."   you're   here.   she'd   forgotten   how   completely   awkward   kit   could   be.   he   got   away   with   it,   too;   a   puppy   transfigured   into   a   six-foot-something   beefcake.   if   she   ever   let   herself,   quinn   would   miss   the   friendship   they   had   struck   up   when   he   first   arrived.   but   she   was   quinn   morrison   and   she    didn't   do   that.   at   least,   that's   what   she   told   herself.   "got   to   be.   what   if   your   girl   shows   up?"   she   asked   with   a   bitter   rhetoric.

parisadavani·:

.

“I mixed it myself,” Parisa confirmed, almost as though she could read Quinn’s mind. She didn’t trust people she didn’t know to make her drinks at an event like this. “It’s… good but maybe a bit too sweet for my tastes, I should’ve probably gone with seltzer instead of Sprite,” she reviewed, savoring the flavor of lemons and pomegranate nonetheless. “Not like pina coladas are an option here,” she muttered, wondering when non-drinkers were going to have their time to thrive at college parties. 

Snickering as Quinn talked about her cousin’s power of persuasion, Parisa shook her head. “I’m not ridiculously opposed to going in, but also not intending on it. I spent a little too long doing my hair and makeup to let it get messy, at least this early.” Curly tendrils framed Parisa’s face, with her dark tresses styled in its usual updo. “Plus, I much prefer the ocean to pools. Saltwater is sticky, but still more refreshing than chlorine. Not like we have great beaches up here anyway, but still I’m more of a resort pool girl than a… college competitive pool girl.”  Even Parisa’s family’s pool in California was saltwater - not that she swam in it much.

               "i   don't   see   the   point   in   any   of   it,"   she   admitted.   quinn   had   never   been   one   for   the   water.   "but   if   you   do   end   up   in   there,   please   scrub   hard   after   and   don't   come   crying   to   me   if   you   catch   norovirus   from   the   human   soup."   she   finished   her   drink.   parisa   was   right,   it   was   too   sweet.   "i   have   a   question   for   you   while   i   have   you   here.   it's   months   away,   of   course,   but   when   the   holidays   come   around   i'm   sure   i'm   going   to   be   invited   to   something   formal.   i   wanted   to   ask   if   you'd   consider   designing   a   dress   for   me.   paid,   of   course."

I come from a long line of people who should not have had children but did anyway

aceofportsmouth·:

He kept smiling. She wouldn’t break his exterior. “Personally, I wouldn’t have put something like this on, but I didn’t know Greer too well. Was she the type to want the party to keep going?” Booker inquired. Greer was still an enigma to him. Despite nothing being revealed by her, their brief encounters were memorable. Her cousin surely knew her better than he did. “She seemed cool. Were you both close?” Booker didn’t have any cousins, but he would like to think if he did they would be close. 

               quinn   shrugged.   "she   is   the   type,   to   be   honest,   but   greer's   never   exactly   been   known   for   making   the   best   decisions."   at   least   to   anyone   who   could   think   independently   of   the   golden   girl's   influence,   she   thought   to   herself.   "and   we   are.   we   were.   well,   as   close   as   any   relatives   around   the   same   age   could   be.   we   grew   up   together,   went   to   the   same   schools,   spent   breaks   with   our   family.   i   think   we   just   eventually   grew   up   to   be   very   different   people   with   very   different   interests."   the   blonde   touted   the   same   vague   answers   everybody   knew   to   the   stranger.