Voice Mail

Jun. 21st, 2015 09:47 pm
former_cheerio: ([pos] clapping)
"Hi, it's Quinn. You missed me. You know what to do."



[This is an RP journal for entertainment, specifically the game [livejournal.com profile] fandomhigh. No rights to Glee, the character of Quinn Fabray, or Dianna Agron are claimed or desired.]
former_cheerio: ([neg] what.)
Quinn didn't go to the town meeting. (If she had, she would have volunteered that the auditors were freaks who didn't know what cankles were, but the townfolk were -- perhaps mercifully -- spared that set of insights.)

She did not go to the meeting because, after spending a couple hours at the gym, she decided the thing she should do next was clean out every stash of alcohol in the dorms that she knew about.

No one said grief-crazy seventeen-year-olds were smart.

After four hours of exercise, two beers, six warm kiwi wine coolers, a thick swallow of something that was either tequila or alcoholic motor oil, and almost no food for 36 hours or so, Quinn dressed all in black and wobbled out of the dorms. She was armed with a baseball bat, and she was going to kick some auditor ass and avenge! Puck's! loss!.

"I'm going to find you, creepy people!" she told the sky. "I'm going to get you and beat you and make you tell me how to get my boyfriend back!"

She would have done her best to make good on her threat, if she hadn't walked almost smack into a tree near the edge of campus that brushed up against the force field. As she did, the force field blinked, the Nothing got in, and campus was one tree -- and one Quinn -- poorer.

Only the abandoned baseball bat marked that anyone had ever been there at all.

[OOC: NFI.].
former_cheerio: ([neu] earnest in uniform)
Quinn stood just inside the vestibule of the hotel, waiting for Puck and the promised walk home. She felt a little silly about it, but at the same time, creepy women were making plants vanish. Boyfriend duty was a completely reasonable thing to expect.

She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering even though it wasn't really that cold. He should be here soon.

[OOC: For one, then some others.]
former_cheerio: ([neg] sadface)
Quinn thought about it, she really did, but she decided not to go home.

Mostly -- though she wouldn't admit it -- it was about not being brave enough to go home and see what was gone. It was easier to live in denial when she was at least a little ignorant.

So she was more or less trying to do normal stuff. Like returning a prank call. If she had the source a little twisted, well, she was not necessarily at her best.

That done, she sat down on her bed and tried to read, some stupid fluffy chicklit story about people she kind of wanted to smack. It wasn't going so well: She kept having to go back and reread every third word.

[OOC:Door cracked, post open!]
former_cheerio: ([neu] very curious)
Quinn decided Saturday afternoon that she couldn't go home for Thanksgiving. For one, there was the co-president thing; even if Annie would be around, it felt a little like the captain abandoning her ship with the iceberg straight ahead.

For another, Portalocity was being unusually impossible to deal with. The best their haggard-sounding customer service rep could offer Quinn was $350 each one way for a trip that included spending all of Tuesday on a layover in 1349 Denmark. Quinn was fairly certain this meant they'd run into either the black plague or meta Hamlet, and she didn't need Puck to get in trouble for dropping the Prince of Danes down an outhouse.

In which Quinn has a few disconcerting conversations. )

The conversation didn't really recover from that one. And now Quinn would be searching her room, trying to find any proof that she wasn't hallucinating having had a sister. A photo, a card, anything.

[OOC: Post/door open! Also, I pulled the name Frannie from a fan wiki, and reserve the right to change that if the character shows up and the show uses another name.]
former_cheerio: ([neg] facepalm)
Quinn had just gotten back to her room and flopped on the bed -- watching someone else do your laundry was exhausting, thanks -- when the date occured to her.

It was the day before Halloween.

Which meant her door had to be decorated for the contest tomorrow.

Which meant it was time to get creative with the stuff in her room now.

The usable stuff in her room was a handful of fluffy pink bunnies who hadn't quite made it to Goodwill, a couple ratty t-shirts and skirts she hadn't gotten around to throwing out yet, and some random paper and markers. Once she'd talked to Claudia, she had some metal and wire bits to add to the scavenged heap.

Quinn rolled up her sleeves, made a pile out of all of it, and set to work putting together the best bunnies-of-doom scenario she could manage on short notice. It was her duty to the school.

[OOC: Open post, cracked door, Claudia modded with permission.]
former_cheerio: ([neu] school stuff)
Quinn had been on a series of increasingly frustrating minor errands all day, and -- after a quick stop to check in with Rilla -- she dropped by her room for just long enough to send an email to the sorority girls.


To: sorority-list;
From: quinn.fabray@fandomhigh.edu
Subject: Today's Meeting

Today's meeting is cancelled due to a personal scheduling conflict. See you next Monday at the Sorority-Fraternity-Pride Halloween mixer!

Your Sister,

Quinn

P.S. If you see somebody who doesn't understand email yet, please pass this message along. Thanks.


And then she was back out the door to resume her quest for the perfect costume and something that would get the last of the glitter from the weekend out of her hair.

[OOC: Establishy due to day of suck.]
former_cheerio: ([neu] very curious)
Quinn was exhausted from the carnival when she got back to the room. She hadn't signed up for a booth this year, but there was still more than enough to do to keep things running to keep her busy.

She squinted at the new decor when she came in.

"Bunnies, bunnies everywhere," she muttered, and flopped onto a pile of them. She had no idea why they were there, but they were pink. They were cute. They didn't seem to want to bite her head off, literally or metaphorically. She'd seen worse invasions.

[OOC: closed door, open post!]
former_cheerio: ([neg] what.)
Quinn was not, generally speaking, an early to bed type. But she hadn't had anything in particular to do all weekend, and sometimes her bed was just a really nice place to be.

This may have been a mistake. While she was innocently asleep, a small, rarely sighted marsupial crept into her room, and -- spotting the cotton candy-like fluff sprawled across Quinn's pillow -- snuffled deeply at her hair.

By the time the wallaby hopped away, the pink was gone from Quinn's hair as dark blonde locks flowed past her shoulders again. But Quinn dozed on, oblivious to the animal's work for at least a few hours more.

Fandom's hair-growing wallaby had struck again.

[OOC: Establishy. Hair-growing wallaby cheerfully stolen from [livejournal.com profile] auroryborealis, nyeh.]
former_cheerio: ([pink] thinking)
Now that the pink hair wasn't quite so new, Quinn felt like she could get a realistic idea of what it looked like. She decided it rocked, even though it was such a contrast to her usual fashion sense. Part of the fun was shocking people. (And now she understood why some girls changed their hair every other week.) It had been a very successful temporary nervous breakdown.

She had some free time before sorority, so she played around with her makeup and clothes until she had a good rock chick look, then turned on her phone's camera and started modeling in the mirror. The new hair wouldn't feel quite real until she saw what her Facebook friends would have to say about it.

[OOC: Door cracked, post open.]
former_cheerio: ([boy] pissed off)
Awkward insane weekend fallout aside, it had been a pretty good couple of weeks to be Quinn Fabray. Puck was back, sorority seemed to be off to a good start, and she was Student Council co-president which rocked, even if it wasn't quite as good as being president by herself would have been. She had a couple more personal reasons to be in a good mood, too.

So when she woke up in the wrong body on Saturday morning, all she could do was roll her eyes and mutter something about it being about time for Fandom to screw with her again. This was not an aspect of island life she'd miss when she graduated.

She quietly went over to check herself out in the mirror. Same cute guy as last time, though she wasn't sure how she felt about the scruffy beard. If the facial hair stuck after she changed back and she had to get electrolysis, she was going to be very pissed.

[OOC: Door closed, post open.]
former_cheerio: ([pos] pretty striped dress)
Quinn dropped off the very last cupcake packet on Claudia's desk (a vote was a vote, even if it was a little funny to campaign at your roomie) sat on her bed, and promptly pulled off her shoes and yanked the covers over her legs in search of a few more hours of sleep.

She hadn't realized how many seniors there were until she started trying to track down every single dorm room. Well, if being a little OCD won her the election, it was totally worth it.

She was happy she'd done it, but for now, she just wanted some rest.

Flier image and text back here! )

[OOC: Open post/Closed door/SP for today! Also, I tried to hit every senior in the directory, but there were a few people whose VM I couldn't find. They had cupcakes left for them anyhow.]
former_cheerio: ([neu] determined)
It was break week, which Quinn supposed meant she could go back to Ohio and hang out with Santana or somebody for a couple days. The weird thing was how little she felt like it, even if the island was conspiring to give her a life filled with fantastic adventures, pickle-and-ice-cream rain, and mouthbreathing gigglers who threw jello. Here was brainbreakingly weird, but it was also home.

She put an old Janet Jackson CD on her stereo and laid on her stomach on her bed, notebook propped in front of her. She needed to figure out what she was doing with the sorority this year, and it wasn't too soon to start at all.

[OOC: Post as open as the door.]
former_cheerio: ([spec] humanoid - BDE)
Quinn had slept and Quinn had taken a bath and Quinn was feeling just fabulous, thank you very much, with all this power surging through her. She'd been wrong all her life; she needed to be strong more than she needed to be pretty.

She tapped her feet impatiently, and if she noticed through her sandals that her toenails were thick black claws now it certainly didn't bother her. "We should go before anyone thinks to look for us."

She lisped as she spoke, just a bit. The sharp teeth took some getting used to.

[OOC: For He Who is With Her.]
former_cheerio: ([spec] humanoid - BDE)
The oatmeal bath last night had stopped the itching, a bit, but had done precisely nothing for Quinn's peace of mind. She woke up this morning feeling as if several large trucks had hit her in succession, then backed up and run over her again, just for fun.

She stumbled to the mirror to brush her teeth. Two classes today. Gotta get to them, gotta look good, gotta get through --

She was gray. Not pale and under the weather, not sickly and in need of some good concealer or a nap or chicken noodle soup: Gray. And when she blinked, as if that might fix it, she noticed her eyes were pitch black instead of their normal greenish hazel.

Panic jumped into her throat, scalding hot. She was mumbling to herself as she attacked her cosmetics drawer. A little more moisturizer, some heavy foundation, some eye drops and this would all go away.

It had to.

[OOC: cracked door, open post!]
former_cheerio: ([neu] blue top)
Quinn was pretty sure she was supposed to have some kind of broken home trauma or something. But the truth was, from what she could tell, divorce kind of rocked. Her mom had gotten a job, which gave Quinn way more freedom. She didn't have anything interesting to use it on -- most of her friends either spent all their time at cheering practices or were still being totally annoying dorks about glee club -- but it was the principle of the thing. Besides, Quinn kind of liked the quiet after a year in Fandom. Lima was the dullest place on earth, but it was good to know piranhas weren't going to suddenly appear in her bathtub.

Well, she liked the peace for the first three weeks. Then she was ready to climb the walls out of boredom. The birthday weekend with Puck had come along at exactly the right time.

The other great thing about her mom being preoccupied was that it was fairly easy for Quinn to get permission to drive to Fandom. A portal would have been faster, but she liked her little red car. It was nice to have it waiting for her in the island's parking lot.

She patted the dashboard, locked the car doors, and started toward the causeway. It was her senior year. She'd decided it would be amazing.

[OOC: Open if you happen to be in the parking lot too. "Divorce kind of rocks" is a canon quote.]
former_cheerio: ([neg] well duh)
Quinn had not been talking to her parents a whole lot lately.

It wasn't intentional; it was just that usually when she thought of it, she was either busy, or trying to study, or turned the wrong age before she got around to it. Or else things were too weird to possibly explain, and Quinn wasn't sure she was up to lying.

Besides, her folks weren't exactly burning through their phone minutes calling her.

But when they didn't call on her birthday, that was ... more than a little off. She finally found out why when her mom got in touch. Apparently her dad had been too busy sleeping with some tattooed freak to remember he had a younger daughter, and her mom had been too busy kicking him out.

Quinn was packing a bag for home before she even hung up the call. The island was cold and smelled like Viking; it was a good time for a long trip to Lima.

[OOC: Quinn is heading off the island for at least half the summer. If you want her to have given you notice before she left, handwave away, or this post is open for extreeeeeme slooooowplaaaaaaay. Thanks to everybody who tagged to her b'day party -- and especially to Erin for putting it together -- sorry I had to miss it!]
former_cheerio: ([neu] half a face)
Quinn wasn't sure what had possessed her to buy the little toy keyboard during a supply run in town. She hadn't practiced piano since ... how long had it been? Since she gave up piano lessons for cheerleading, at least.

Maybe she was going back to her roots, or regressing to a second childhood, or something like that. Anyhow, picking out the melody to a Supremes song on the keyboard helped distract her from the lovely shade of lime she'd been almost constantly since her morning latte.

[OOC: Open post of integrating random canon.]
former_cheerio: ([pos] laughing)
The problem with Puck having offered to carry her home from the dance was that once the idea was in Quinn's head, she kind of had to take him up on it.

The awesome part was, he did it, and without much wobbling. Quinn was giddily impressed.

"Can you find the light?," she was saying as they got through the door. "Oh my god, if Claudia is home by now she'll laugh her ass off at us."

[OOC: NFB, NF (other) I. Sorry, squirrels.]
former_cheerio: ([neu] seated)
So Quinn had kind of forgotten that she was supposed to send out invitations to her and Emma's slumber party.

She was going to blame being blonde.

Anyhow, 24 hours was enough notice if nobody had to go anywhere or buy anything, right? Right.


From: Quinn.Fabray@fandomhigh.edu
To: female-students-list;
Subject: SLUMBER PARTY TIME.

Hey there,

Emma Frost and I would like to invite you to an ALL-GIRL slumber party tomorrow night on the sixth floor to celebrate the new semester. (Yeah, we know, we're fashionably late.) No drama, just a night of cheesy movies, junk food, and make-overs.

If boys absolutely must crash, they will probably end up with manicures or worse. Consider this a warning.

Call me or write back if you have any questions or anything.

- Quinn


[Closed door, post open to responses, random guests, etc.]

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Quinn Fabray

June 2015

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