Down The Rabbit Hole

Quinn Fabray “I'm not lost for I know where I am. But however, where I am may be lost.” ― A.A. Milne

[writelikefabray]

finnyhud:

I’m sure you can find some kinda scandal I mean isn’t that what journalism is all about? Digging for the truth? If you dig hard enough you might just find something here that’s more interesting than wood chips at the park—though anything is more interesting than wood chips.

I hardly thought you’d be asking me to dig. But I suppose if you’ve nothing to hide, you’ve nothing to fear? Regardless, I don’t plan on digging into your lives. It’s not worth it, there’s nothing of excitement here.

[writelikefabray]

fionablair:

Well, I do hear Sue is hunting down the girl who threw up on the third floor? So if anything you’ll have a murder to write about soon, I’m sure. Until then… there’s scandals all over this building, you just have to know where to look. They might not be worthy enough for the front page of the paper, but find yourself the right column for calling these assholes out, and I’m sure you’d have a hit on your hands. It’s like gossip girl, but…worse. 

Fair point, but I refuse to be the Gossip Girl of Whatever Weekly. I’m not actually interested in who is with who, but sleeping with the girl next door; although, it can be entertaining. I’ll leave that to poorly-done teen dramas. Sue, on the other hand, concerns me. Am I the only one genuinely afraid of our landlord?

[writelikefabray]

pucklehead:

Why must you deny yourself the good things in life, Blondie? Is that like, a writer thing? Sounds depressing.

It’s Quinn*, thank you. Trust me, I don’t deny myself the good things in life. I just vet them heavily.

You should know. Aren’t you a “writer,” Puck?

[peterpierce]

I’m not really that good with introductions. I’m Peter, welcome to my blog. 

[writelikefabray]

You’re really not.

I’m Quinn, pleasure.

[madeleinelee]

Listen, everybody — I don’t know what you may have heard already, but that couch in the stairwell is mine. I spent all evening trying to get it up the stairs and it got kind of stuck, but there were all these signs that said ‘don’t block the stairs,’ so I left. I’m hoping that the stairwells will get really cold at night and the couch will freeze and shrivel up a little, so don’t touch it, okay? Human contact will just warm it up again.  

[writelikefabray]

I’ll...try not to touch the couch on the stairwell. Do you believe all inanimate objects shrink in the cold, or do you reserve that for couches?

[nopuck-blog1]

Tomorrow is National Martini Day, and honestly, I couldn’t think of a better holiday myself. I think I’m gonna go straight up Blueberry Lemondrop with sugar rim instead of salt. Who wants some? 

Alcohol, that is. I know everybody wants some of this.

[writelikefabray]

Thank you for the offer, but I’ll pass on both.

[damnedpuck]

quinn fabray aesthetic →

“make your parents proud, your enemies jealous, and yourself happy.”

[writelikefabray]

@mitchellpuckerman

There should be a rule about Quinn Fabray and alcohol. Queen Elizabeth’s Comprehensive Book of Manners Volume I, page three-ninety-four, don’t give Quinn adult beverages; in the event that she does drink an adult beverage, place a sign on her back that reads “Stay back 25 feet.” The conference room was a ridiculous place to hold a mixer, someone was throwing up in the corner, and Mitchell Puckerman existed. It was all enough to make her furious, and she knew it was that last shot that had done it. Quinn had never been known to be a friendly drunk. Oh well, at least she wasn’t sobbing.  Her position in the corner with her arms crossed was the best place for her. Silently fuming over the pattern of the office chairs was better than biting someone’s head off over something petty that she couldn’t care less about the next morning. Self-imposed exile was her best choice, and she was content to watch the crowd from a distance, silently fuming every time her gaze fell upon Mitchell.

[writelikefabray]

It’s three a.m. and I just finished writing an article about park maintenance. Please tell me there’s more to this town than whether or not there’s enough cedar chips under the swing set at Whatever Public Park? If not, someone make it interesting. Three floors and drums at all hours of the night; if Sylvester Suites doesn’t give me a scandal to write about at some point, I quit.

[prttypctures]

Currently my apartment is just littered with way too many cat toys and other supplies. I may have went a little overboard and got as many nice things as possible to keep Princess Pussy happy. Like, I don’t know how she managed it, but this little teenage girl that works at PetSmart talked me into buying one of those intricate cat towers. There is nothing more beautiful than watching my baby jump and crawl around her new little home inside her even larger new home. Is this what pure, unadulterated happiness feels like? 

[writelikefabray]

Princess Pussy? Princess Pussy?

Tell me Audrey named her. No, don’t tell me, you don’t have to tell me. Audrey named her.

[alvajalvarez-blog]

I don’t know about the rest of you guys, but I’m itching to get my dance on at this party. Watch out for my body rolls - they’re a gift from the big man himself.

[writelikefabray]

Right, thank you for the warning. I’ll be sure to watch out.

[messagesebastian]

I came down here to find out if there are any guys worth banging in our building, but this miserable excuse for a “luau” is more depressing than a high school mixer. I’ll be sitting in the corner on Grindr. If you have alcohol to share, then you’re welcome to join. 

But don’t approach me if you’re ugly.

[writelikefabray]

You can sit in your apartment and Grindr far easier, you know. Then the only person you have to worry about is yourself.

It could be good for entertainment value, given the right amount of alcohol. As long as no one attempts Journey karaoke, I’ll be around.

[cqlebrvrs]

So, I’m not too sure how on the nose Sue is about these rules for this mixer, buut I’m willing to bet that she’s not going to allow what I have planned. That being said, I want to put my abilities to the test — if anyone wants a free tattoo from someone who’s in training to be a professional, feel free to stop by my apartment once the festivities die down. Just remember — not a professional. But if I fuck it up, I’ll at least try to fix it? So I mean, you can’t really complain. 

[writelikefabray]

No.

[writelikefabray]

iMESSAGES 📲 OPEN.

KENZIE: There's literally no one at Vertigo right now. I mean, we have our regulars but they're old and don't give a fuck. Anyone willing to make my night less boring by coming out and getting a couple of drinks? First drink will be on me, I promise.

QUINN: I give this number out for apartment emergencies. Not for "my job sucks" texts. Kindly refrain, thank you :)

[huntavec-blog]

I’d enjoy if this incessant singing would stop so I could focus on my work, please and thank you.

[writelikefabray]

I’ve found coffee shops are more conducive to work than anywhere in this apartment complex, even late at night, courtesy of certain neighbors. You might want to consider finding somewhere off the property.

[hanssoned-blog]

It’s in all our best interests to keep our expectations for Thursday at an all time low. I’ve known Sue for years, and if we’re lucky, the mixer’ll be on par with my niece’s baptism bbq. Or worse. If there aren’t balloon animals and magic tricks, is a pizza party really worth taking the night off for?

[writelikefabray]

Please, tell me more about your niece’s baptism bbq. I’m dying to know.

Let’s start with the fact it’s a party held in an apartment conference room. She could dress it up however she’d like, there’s nothing that could make office chairs and track suits worth it.

[writelikefabray]

coachbaer:

Fear factor aside, do you wonder about my boobs a lot, or…? 

You’re assuming yours are something special around here. Have you seen third floor? It’s overdone. And besides, it’s called sarcasm. Are you familiar, or would you benefit from a definition?