pushing me (you're breaking) [quinn]
title: Pushing Me (You're Breaking)
rating: PG
fandom/pairing: Glee. No pairing, just Quinn
spoilers: Gen. S01 stuff?
warnings: Angst. Herpderp.
summary: She looks perfect.
words: 137
disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or the Ting Ting's "Traffic Light."
a/n: For the gleeversechallenge "Time Warm" (Part 2) which had the option of writing a 137-word fic that had to use every letter of the alphabet at least once. One of these days, I'll write something that isn't angst. Until then, please continue enjoying Merylie's inappropriately wide grins attached to said angst.
She looks exactly how she should. There’s never a single blonde hair out of place, always pulled back into a tight ponytail high on her head. Her uniform is crisp and clean, all sharp lines that do very little to accentuate the gentle curves of her body, most likely by design. She applies her makeup judicially every morning, and it’s always tasteful; never gaudy to attract unwanted attentions.
She frowns at her reflection, frowns at the frowning girl that gazes solemnly back at her, and smoothes down the pleats of her red skirt. She pushes her shoulders back, stands up straighter, takes on an expression of fierce determination (Coach Sylvester’s favorite quality, from what she’s been able to gather), and nods like she’s happy with what she sees.
She’s not, really, but at least everyone else is.
rating: PG
fandom/pairing: Glee. No pairing, just Quinn
spoilers: Gen. S01 stuff?
warnings: Angst. Herpderp.
summary: She looks perfect.
words: 137
disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or the Ting Ting's "Traffic Light."
a/n: For the gleeversechallenge "Time Warm" (Part 2) which had the option of writing a 137-word fic that had to use every letter of the alphabet at least once. One of these days, I'll write something that isn't angst. Until then, please continue enjoying Merylie's inappropriately wide grins attached to said angst.
She looks exactly how she should. There’s never a single blonde hair out of place, always pulled back into a tight ponytail high on her head. Her uniform is crisp and clean, all sharp lines that do very little to accentuate the gentle curves of her body, most likely by design. She applies her makeup judicially every morning, and it’s always tasteful; never gaudy to attract unwanted attentions.
She frowns at her reflection, frowns at the frowning girl that gazes solemnly back at her, and smoothes down the pleats of her red skirt. She pushes her shoulders back, stands up straighter, takes on an expression of fierce determination (Coach Sylvester’s favorite quality, from what she’s been able to gather), and nods like she’s happy with what she sees.
She’s not, really, but at least everyone else is.