whoa oh my god another thing to update sporadically(at best)! And my first dip in the waters of GLEEEEEEE...
Admission time - I have no business in this fandom but I'm fond of sticking my nose in things. I've seen episodes of glee. I like the idea of it, I really, really do. The actors and actresses are beautiful baby cherubs that need all my money BUT the way that glee is kinda rubs me raw. The way it and it's characters develop is at times incredibly frustrating, to be very kind.
But I love the fandom and all it creates so. Dilemmas... anyway, I'm a garbage lady, here is my filth. Loaded through with cursing and a touch of total and complete AU OOC bulldoggery, I present, this fuckin thing.
P.S. I use the human language like I use my car like I use my body - I treat it like hell and expect it to keep up with me regardless of that fact. Enjoy.
No one had heard of her.
Or. Or maybe they had, you know? Locked deep inside those corners of the mind, the ones so seldom loved or looked upon, so easily forgotten. She had been something to someone there, probably. Maybe. Once? It had to be.
The rumors spread hot and fast before her arrival and even quicker after her abrupt departure, everyone talking as if they knew her, really knew her. She'd hailed from their little loser town they said. Moved only God knows where while still in her adolescence, they knew. And then, Jesus, then her first day back in Lima!
Rumors were a Hell of a thing. After that first day, they became less factual and more fantastical. Suddenly it turned into a mess about her being a man- specifically, it was, "No one's got the balls to do what she did!" and rapidly it devolved into, "Did you hear she's got balls? - which, shocker(but seriously though), for the first time in her life she refused to feed rumors that weren't about her.
She'd been there to witness that day. She knew. And she took a special, vested interest in the girl because. Well, actually she didn't know why, just that she did and therefore it was her duty to regard the efforts of the rumor mill with distaste in this particular instance. But harsh denial can be indicative of guilt.
The whispers became aimed at her.
She was dating the shorty. Or actually it was, "Did you hear Quinn Fabray got caught fucking that tranny?". Because apparently, every person in the whole school building had caught her in every janitors closet and every empty classroom and over every inch of the girls locker room, entangled with the ever mysterious girl that had lasted less than an hour on her first day.
Which, like, what the fuck!? She's not that easy and she hardly had the time! But whatever, she was queen of this hovel. Sure whispers were there, but she was stronger than words, especially lies from the mouths of strangers. (That is to say, she knows them and they know her, but they aren't her friends, so they simply don't matter).
But rumors come and go and these were no different. A year passed. The world changed but in the halls of McKinley nothing ever really did. On this day, Quinn wondered if that was just life. If high school was this separate entity from existence that was stuck forever in some odd homeostasis. Ah, perhaps limbo was a better word?
Oh what things she did consider in the morning when she'd gotten up well too early and skipped coffee before making her commute.
And it struck her in such a delay. It wasn't a rush in which they met. And in all actuality they hardly met so much as happened to glance at one another in a brief window of eternity. She walked by and in a sheer moment of fate their gazes locked. And then she was gone.
Her brain still clung to the fleeting minutes of mindless wandering, so it did strike her a tad late exactly who she'd seen. Slow blinks. Slower processing. Her brain ran on dial-up apparently. And then, light bulb illuminating, she whipped her head around and watched the last sway of hips around the corner.
What the fuck.
Rumors were a Hell of a thing, and they'd missed this. How had they not started up? Last time, the first time, they started up weeks before the arrival. And lasted months after the departure. There's just No way. She follows, of course. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back and she simply had to be certain.
Once certainty was obtained she could worry about that satisfaction bit. It'd be quite in her interest to know why the Hell her rumor-bane had returned, after all.
Already, as she passed, people were beginning to whisper. She thinks, Oh, NOW you start. Worthless peons. Then feels slightly bad about thinking of people that way, proceeds to get the fuck over it(everybody has something, don't they?), just in time to crash into the back of her quarry.
"I swear if- oh!" The girl whips around, teeth bared and hands balled into fists, only to immediately relax and take a step back. "Oh jeez, hey I'm sorry I thought you were... someone else..." And Quinn starts at the kind smile she receives, half expecting she'll get decked anyway, even without a slushie facial to precede or provoke it. And three seconds is all it takes for her manners to kick in; she says,
"No! I'm sapologizing! I mean, ah, I meant to say I should be the one apologizing; I ran into you, after all. Sorry 'bout that," but the girl - despite wracking her brain for the name, she's drawing a blank - is still grinning. Snickering in fact. And Quinn can be kind, when she's not in this Hellhole she's actually a kind-of decent human being... but she can't stand when people laugh at her. And to her face, no less!
"Sapologizing? Never heard of that one before," she provides when Quinn's expression darkens with a scowl. Oh. OH! Well, fucking duh. Even she manages a snort and a roll of the eyes, one corner of her mouth quirking up.
"Maybe you should learn you up some better English," she informs, matter-of-fact, and then they both laugh and what is she doing she's supposed to be figuring this girl's whole deal out! "Ah, you, uh( fuck, come on think of something) look a little lost?" Good enough.
The girl - a name would be fantastic like, anytime now brain, thanks - scoffs. Grumbling, and mostly to herself, "I wish." Then she blinks rapidly, a smile creeping upon her features that she then sets upon Quinn. "Ah but if you're offering a tour, I'd be delighted to take you up on that."
So Lima was the kind of small town that she thought serial killers were born in. A bum-fuck, abysmal hole on the crust of the earth that probably would have made a more interesting parking lot versus place to live. The kind of bum-fucky place that didn't even have a Wal-Mart.
You had to travel the next town over for that gem.
It was a pimple on the buttcrack of Ohio, basically.
And for whatever reason that suited her just fine. This was the kind of quiet place that was ideal to settle in, and moving had been fun - but like, not really - and all but roots to grow(at least through high school) just sounded so nice. And maybe it was really her fault, you know? She was the one to assume that small towns were all quaint little havens. She assumed that bum-fuck kids weren't capable of exceptionally unacceptable behavior.
Forgetting dad's favorite phrase in traffic: "Everyone's an idiot. Look to your left, look to your right- idiots."
Sometimes she thought he was hilariously abrasive. Usually she realized he was right. Parents, it seemed, were doomed to be right. Or hers at least.
Her first day had started with an automatic expulsion. And she was almost certain that wasn't even allowed. She could have argued to stay but by that point she'd well and been absolutely done with the shit heaped upon her. Because bullies were a thing, have been for years and will be forever. They're everywhere and anywhere and come in all shapes and sizes.
It really is her fault for forgetting that. For not considering it. For just happening to existence in this soul-sucking ditch of misery and rot.
Some fucking worm had poured a slushie on her head on her first day. She'd be lying to say she'd never wanted to throw a drink in a person's face, but damnit she was saving it for someone that deserved it. And maybe she wasn't Mother Theresa, but fuck she hadn't done ANYTHING to the guy! He just walked up to her - while she was wearing her really nice headphones and rocking out to Carole King! Like, FUCK - and dumped it upon her head.
The initial shock of cold had frozen her. The buzzing death of her headphones zapping at her ears had struck a mighty blow to her heart, having gotten them just a week before. The cold syrupy mess seeping into the virtually priceless tee she'd been wearing had made her feel a depth of emotion she didn't know she was capable of.
It was like a fucking movie. Time slowed. Sounds warped and muffled. Her heart throbbed out a beat that was increasing as fury melted through the haze of shock, bleeding acid into her veins, shaking her limbs. Tears had tickled at her eyes, she'd sniffled once. For the fallen tee, a present from daddy when, in his unbelievable youth, he'd gotten to meet David Fucking Bowie. It was signed.
And then she'd kinda lost her shit. She'd hit a pitch of enraged-animal-shriek that had ruined her voice for three days after. She rounded on him and tackled him and after his back had hit the floor and she had her hands on his face, it, uh... She kinda blacked out.
She came back to her senses only after she'd been pulled off of him, but not before she'd head-butted the brave jock attempting to help his friend.
She'd punched him bloody. She'd been sitting on his chest, legs wrapped around his arms and wailing on his mug, cutting her knuckles on his teeth with her fierce, wild swings. The one arm he'd managed to wrangle free he'd used to push at her face and in her blind rage she'd bitten him until her teeth touched bone and he was literally squealing and screaming like a pig at slaughter. She'd either broken or fractured his jaw. Not to say anything for his nose.
And all that was before she'd spit in the principal's face.
...
Ok maybe she wouldn't have been able to contest the expulsion. But in her defence, that slushie business was bull shit!
...unfortunately, that hadn't been a very convincing argument, not to Mr. SpitFace. So she'd been expelled forthright. But lucky, when she'd gotten home and finally got her chance to break down and cry over the gifts that had been utterly ruined, her daddies were more understanding than the school official had been. Daddy hadn't even mourned the ruination of his prized shirt, more concerned for her injured hands.
And then she'd been scolded but not that badly. She'd taken a look at another local school but had eventually requested homeschooling. That school was douchy and the lot was covered in expensive cars that just really rolled her eyes back far enough to gaze upon her brain for minutes.
And time, as it did tend to do, passed. This place was a weeping-fuckhole that she'd come to be content with. It was charming in the way that shitty small towns intrinsically are. She got a job at a tiny little movie theater on the edge of town. One that her daddies delighted in telling her fit her stature quite well.
One day they came to her, on one of her days off in fact, and asked if she'd like to attend school again. On a whim, thinking they were joking, she'd said sure, why not? Because, really things were so quiet, maybe she had thought about school and friends outside of work.
Not seriously, per se, but she'd entertained the idea before. She hadn't realized they'd gotten a letter informing her and her Parent slash Guardian slash Custodian(s) that her expulsion had ended and she would now be allowed to return to the halls of McKinley High, should she so choose. And her dumb ass had said yes.
Dad was right, of course. She was an idiot, but one of a mass of them.
But, and here's the crazy part, her second first day at McKinley was starting out on a good foot. Well, sure everyone was giving her a wide berth and not even pretending to "discreetly" whisper as she passed, but hey no slushies! Small favors, right? Or like, huge favors. Because, little nothing hick town that it was, beauty inhabited it.
She'd been ready for a fight and found a tour guide instead. An incredibly gorgeous blonde one with enchanting eyes and a smile unrivalled. The sorta, be-still-my-beating-heart kinda beauty, one that belonged on commercials, magazine covers, the silver screen! It was her imagination that cued the angels singing, montages of romance, the music that swelled with passion as light from heaven itself anointed her blonde head.
Her imagination and her flare for dramatic.
"So," conversation time. "Got name?" Nailed it. Blondie shrugged, a little smile curling at her pretty mouth.
"Probably."
"Oh yeah?"
"Mhmm."
"Cool."
Awesome. This was good.
"So," she stuffs her hands in her pockets, smiling but small. "You takin' me somewhere to have me beat up? Gonna be honest, I might actually be The Hulk." And breath be gone, Blondie laughed. This girl was incredible.
"No, no," she waves a hand, giving her what can only be described as a secret grin. "I just wanted to talk to you, but uh, in private?"
And they said secrets don't make friends. They fucking lied.
"Oh yeah?" She can't help her grin, shit-eating though it be. It receives another secret smile, but this one even more secrety.
"Mmhmmm."
"Cool."