#redacted audio quinn

[s0lairee]

remorse (lack thereof).

(26/31) OH my god i have stroooong feelings about this bastard. gba did such a good job voicing him ESPECIALLY THE PART WHERE HE GETS DECKED WITH A CHAIR. that was so satisfying i didn't stop relistening for weeks. i hope we have quinn back if only to execute his sorry ass and resolve his story.

[venuslove-28]

i feel like if you grabbed him by the ankles and shook him fleas would fall off

[huxleaf]

"If your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room;"

- Quinn

"You can lean on my arm as you break my heart."

- Tank

[cascadiiing]

Bloodlust, or something like that

(Quinn Redacted Audio)

[mr-laveau]

I miss Quinn. My fucked up lil white boy. My disaster man. My toxic messiah complex bastard. My bitch boy cult leader. My funky rock metal music man. My orphan turned sociopath. My manipulative little scrangly man. My rebel with a cause to burn down the world. My man who accidently caused wonderworld.

[maddeyg]

does anyone know of a darlin and Quinn fic? I have an itch to scratch.

[poedays]

‘I don’t know what to do whithout you // I don’t know where to put my hands’

‘I don’t need the world to see // That I’ve been the best I can be // But, I don’t think I could stand to be // Where you don’t see me’

Tank + Quinn

Francis Forever by Mitski

‘Something happens and I’m head over heals // Ah, don’t take my heart, don’t break my heart // Don’t, don’t, don’t throw it away’

Porter + Treasure

Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears

‘But the dream was too much for you to hold // Now, over and over, I keep going over // The world we knew // Days when you // Used to love me’

Avior + Starlight

The World We Knew by Frank Sinatra

[strawberryboynoir]

OH GOD OH SH*T OH F*CK WAIT--

[dollscircus]

I’m going to fuck this man. Quinn<333 he’s coming home^^

[crysoon]

so shocked at quinns voice really. he doesn’t sound like he was chewing wires on the night of inversion but instead was sipping tea on a rooftop watching shit go down

[yeahyeahgrumblegrumbleakasage]

Is Olivia Rodrigo's song, Vampire just Darlin' singing about their relationship with Quinn or....

[hhoneyglasss]

enter: TANTALUS

notes: long time no see ! sry i hvn't been posting much, end of the year for school has been a little rough. however, the recent quinn-athon gave me quite a few ideas ! so, this is the one i ended up finishing first, and i also hv a fic that has just sam and quinn during their convo bcuz i wish we could've seen more of it. that should be done soon, hopefully.

i'd like to mention that my interpretation of quinn prior to the quinn-athon was v different than what he actually ended up being like; the same goes for my interpretation of his and darlin's relationship. that interpretation hasn't changed; i'm gonna keep writing him how i've been writing him, although i might add a little more edge.

also him being british... i'm going to ignore that bcuz i'm still in denial. let me grieve.

also also ophelia is darlin's friend that was attacked by quinn (she's mentioned in here twice). there's an artwork of her u can find on my masterlist.

pov: third person omniscient (quinn leaning)

pairings: past romantic relationship w/ darlin'/quinn

word count: 1.3k

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47247202

!! TWs {these begin under the cut} !! severe and graphic gore, self-inflicted injury, and purposeful mental torture. if any of these topics are triggering to u, please proceed with caution or do not interact with this work.

reblogs r v much appreciated !! thank u !! <33

Darlin’ is standing in front of interrogation room 3B, eyes locked on the bolted door. Their living nightmare sits inside of the room, their presence unbeknownst to him—at least for now. 

They nod to the guard standing beside them, their fingers wrapping tighter around the long, silver knife in their right hand as he unlocks the door. He pushes it open and nods to them again before stepping away. They enter Quinn’s arena. 

Him and his chair are turned towards the one-sided mirror hanging on the opposite wall, but the blindfold around his eyes has him catching their scent instead. A scent so sweet his mouth waters, and his fangs extend ever so slightly, the razor points poking into the flesh of his mouth. 

He laughs at their entrance, an awful sound that echoes throughout the wide room. They resist the urge to flinch even as the large metal door slams shut behind them—they stand their ground and take a deep breath before walking towards him. 

His arms and legs are bound to the chair with thick metal braces, and white ropes are wrapped around them. Along with the blindfold, another restraint is strapped to his face, a silver grill over his mouth. 

It’s a muzzle. 

They resist a laugh as they remove the blindfold from his face, the knife now placed on his lap. Their hands wrap around his face before sliding into his hair, and the low groan that falls from his lips vibrates through their fingertips. They untie the cloth, even though they know why it’s there—to prevent him from Trancing them. 

But they know he won’t do that, that would be too easy—it takes all the fun out of it if they’re forced to obey him. 

Quinn believes it’s much more amusing for them to willingly, and they know this. 

They don’t look away when his piercing, silvery eyes meet theirs. They don’t look away when the crimson flecks seem to slice through their skin. 

Beneath the muzzle, he smiles at this. Their hands return to the sides of his face and he leans into them, something akin to a purr coming from his throat. He thanks them for letting him see that beautiful face of theirs, and he asks how they’ve gotten more gorgeous since the last time he saw them. They don’t answer.  

They move away from him and pick up the knife, both hands clasped around the hilt as they raise it above their head. Quinn remains silent even as they drive the knife towards his skull. 

But they stop right before it can pierce bone—he knew they would. 

They instead step back and cup the knife’s blade in their left palm. They still stare at him, their gaze cold. 

They ask, “Do you remember the night you attacked Ophelia?” 

“I do. How could I forget?” 

They smile slightly. “Then do you remember when you were pleading for me to stay?” 

The smile leaves Quinn’s face, and he doesn’t respond. 

Darlin’ places their hands on his neck. “I’ll take your silence as a yes. I remember, Quinn.

  “I remember how your arms were wrapped desperately around my waist, and you were sobbing into my stomach. Skin washed red by my blood, and your knees digging into the dirt as you cried and begged for me to run away with you. To leave Ophelia dead and gone in the mud so we could get away from here and everything could go back to the way it was before.”

Their grip on his neck tightens. “You were on your knees and whining for me like a dog.” 

They hold onto his muzzle and lower themself in front of him, their face mere inches from him. “Tell me: who’s the mutt now?” 

They lean away and place the knife back onto their left palm. They sink the blade in, rich blood pooling in their hand when the skin finally splits. They drop the knife onto the floor, and the clatter of metal against concrete sounds like a gunshot. 

As soon as the scent of their blood hits his tongue, Quinn lunges forward, the braces and ropes creaking from his body pushing against them. His teeth are bared now, a deep growl tearing from him. 

They lean over him and squeeze their hand into a fist, the blood dripping down onto his jeans and shirt. A drop of their ambrosia hits the bare skin of his palm, and he swears he’s going to crawl out of his own body if it means he can get to it. 

Darlin’ lets their blood drip onto him for a few moments more before they smear it on their other hand and cup his face again. They undo the straps of the muzzle and push it to the floor, and a strangled scream leaves Quinn. His breathing is heavy, labored, and sweat drips down his forehead. Darlin’ smiles down at him, and you could almost mistake the look in their eyes for love if you weren’t paying attention. 

But Quinn is paying attention, and he knows exactly what that look means. 

Fear grips him, yet he doesn’t even try to move away from them. They’ve pulled him into their gravity, and he’s captured in their orbit. He sees the event horizon now as their fingertips trace his features, their eyes finally landing on his lips. 

He furrows his brows at their actions, then moans when their fingers enter his mouth, the taste of their blood enough to make his eyes roll back in his head and fall shut. Darlin’ lets him drink until he opens his eyes again, and they move their fingers to grip his fangs. 

They kiss the top of his nose once before they smile again, and Quinn finds himself breathless. He plans on asking if he can taste them again, but he doesn’t get the chance when they start to pull on his fangs. Quinn chokes, a gargled sound of surprise, then agony as the roots holding the teeth to his gums begin to snap. 

He starts to scream, but Darlin’ doesn’t react as they continue to pull. They pull and pull and pull until the teeth are ripped out, and blood pours onto his shirt. He’s yelling now, but his words are warped from their hands in his mouth. 

They toss the detached teeth aside, ignoring the clatter whence they hit the floor. They move to his bottom fangs and begin to tug, the teeth almost immediately giving into their strength, the action easier now that they had practice. 

They don’t move away from him, their eyes fixed on his as they watch him writhe in his bindings. He chokes on his own blood, pitiful howls of agony escaping his bloodied mouth, yet he refuses to try to push them away. He instead pulls them closer with what bodily freedom he has left, his neck stretching towards their body as he looks up at them. 

They turn from him and he cries, tears falling from his eyes for the first time since that bloody night with Ophelia. Darlin’ walks around the room, their palms pressed against the grey walls and mirror as they stain the paint and glass red. 

Quinn’s screams louden as the scent of their heavenly blood presses down on him from all directions, the pressure enough to rip the air from his lungs. Darlin’ walks back towards him and grips his face, forcing him to look up at himself in the blood streaked mirror. 

“Maybe you were right–you do look dashing in blood,” they whisper into his ear. He shivers. 

They begin towards the door, ignoring his pleads for them to not leave him. Before they grab the handle and step through, they turn to him one final time and repeat the same words he said to them the last time they refused to stay. 

“Keep barking, dog. No one will hear you now.” 

[artbykays]

I HAVE SILLY QUINN ART

[somethin-human]

Me sitting here, a non-Patreon user, waiting for Erik to post the next video for Quinn’s interrogation

[jelatiney]

I can't get the idea of Quinn listening to Mitski out of my head. Like whyyyyy?!

[sliveralpha]

My AU

What if Quinn and Darlin/Amethyst Had a kid.

So Quinn and Darlin/Amethyst had a kid. Later Quinn hides the kid and tells Darlin/Amethyst that something dreadful happened and their kid passed. Quinn still provides the kid's needs as he/she is traumatized by his crimes overtime.

Fast Forward To Present Time

After Quinn says "Did you miss me precious?" He spills the truth about the kid and how he/she is still alive and won’t tell anyone where the kid is.

To be Continued