Categories > Cartoons > Daria > Slight Return
A Study on Fights and Fashion Sense
0 reviewsCrossover with Good Omens: As if anthropomorphic holidays and hurricane-themed spontaneous singing weren't enough, Lawndale now gets to deal with fallout from the end of the world... well, sort of....
2Funny
Slight Return
Part 1: A Study on Fights and Fashion Sense
------
Crossover with /Good Omens/: Lawndale gets to deal with fallout from the end of the world... well, sort of.
Disclaimer: Neither involved universe is mine; just shoving them together for the hell of it.
Also, this will make a lot more sense if you've read /Good Omens/. If you want to carry on wihtout, do so, but... it's a wonderful book.
------
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Personages of Apocalyptic Significance
*War (War - makes everyone fight, or, failing that, at least argue)
*Famine (Famine - makes people really, really hungry)
*Pollution (Pollution - gets stuff messy)
The Popular Crowd
*Sandi Griffin (president of the Fashion Club, scraping-by student)
*Quinn Morgendorffer (vice-president of the Fashion Club, occasional student)
*Stacy Rowe (secretary of the Fashion Club, also an occasional student)
*Tiffany Blum-Deckler (coordinating officer of the Fashion Club, only nominally a student)
*Jamie White (a football player, one of Quinn's admirers)
*Joey (...Well, except for the name, see Jamie.)
The Cynics
*Daria Morgendorffer (a student and aspiring writer)
*Jane Lane (a student and artist)
Mystik Spiral (Members Thereof)
*Trent Lane (lead guitarist/vocalist and a slacker-narcoleptic)
*Jesse Moreno (rhythm guitarist, fond of one-word sentences)
And:
*Crowley (the only emissary of Hell whose mind has made it out of the 14th century)
Scarlett woke up with a start. After cursing falling dreams to the highest appropriate degree, she noticed her surroundings. Then she actually looked at them.
How in the world had she wound up in a canopy bed?!
This was probably part of Someone's plot to keep certain people visible, at least for a while. She wouldn't be surprised if that miserable excuse for an Antichrist was in on it. So far as that matter went, she sincerely hoped Below had better taste next time they pulled that trick.
But no matter. It wasn't going to do her any good to get steamed at her superiors at (um... clock? Anyone? Ah, there we go.) three in the morning. And besides, she was clearly going to need the saner hours to work out where - and who, from the looks of things - she was.
Problem was, she didn't know if she could get back to sleep now that she knew she was in a canopy bed...
>
She must have managed in the end. Quinn Morgendorffer, owner of the room, woke up a good twenty minutes after her alarm went off. She didn't know why she was so tired even after the extra sleep - after all, she hadn't woken up in the middle of the night.
Can't even sleep till noon, she thought for no readily apparent reason. As she made her way to her closet, her mind also seemed to be leaning toward wearing something red.
She brushed the oddity of that thought aside until she actually opened her closet and discovered the only red thing in it was her Mom-bribing halter top. (She'd lost track of the ultimatums it had earned her, not to mention the cash.) Knowing full well she'd never hear the end of it if she was caught trying to wear it to school, Quinn pulled the halter top out and started fishing around for a jacket to wear over it.
< While not incredibly happy about the lack of total control over what she was doing, Scarlett was willing to put up with having things in hand at least part of the time. It was something, and she'd take something over nothing any day. Having just sat through a solid stretch of Nothing for undefined amounts of time, she should know.
So what was this chick's schedule, anyway? There was a planner in her locker, though Scarlett doubted it was school-issued. Not if the cover was coral pink. At any rate, it probably contained some of her answers.
One of those answers was a little (all right, a lot) hard for her to accept. "Fashion Club? Whose brilliant idea was that?"
Oh, that's right, the rightful owner of the body mused. That sale at Cashman's. Sandi's only been going on about it for the last three weeks or so. I'll have to get money later.
Scarlett was definitely not looking forward to spending the entire afternoon in a shopping mall. On the other hand, she might be able to get some more red in the girl's wardrobe selection. With the slightest smirk, she set about going through the rest of the locker.
>
"Kuh-winn."
Quinn glanced sidelong at Fashion Club president Sandi Griffin. She was nearly certain that whatever was coming had something to do with the halter top. She sighed and said, "What?"
"Why are you, like, mixing primaries? That's been a fashion don't since day one, or something."
Even though she knew there was nothing wrong with a red top and blue jeans, she now had a case to argue. "Oh, honestly, Sandi, don't you know pastel blue when you see it?" (A convincing argument, though she had no idea why she was being so... forceful about it.)
"Gee, Quinn, I would think if your jeans were old enough to count as pastel, you would've, like, replaced them by now." Sandi paused in her valley-girl-isms to eat some of her salad. "Maybe your geeky cousin, or whatever she is, is rubbing off on you?"
"Saandiii..." coordinating officer Tiffany Blum-Deckler chimed in (or droned, anyway). "That /worrd/... eww."
"Look, just because I'm putting a little more effort into my classes doesn't mean I've lost my fashion sense. Besides, I thought the whole point of different styles was to get some variety in." Part of Quinn's brain was absolutely screaming for a way - ANY way - out of this stupid conversation.
"Um, Quinn?"
Not accustomed to only hearing from one-third of the J's at once, Jamie White's presence nearly went unnoticed by the three girls. however, the rebellious sector of Quinn's mind put two and two together, came up with five, and noticed Sandi had spilled her grape juice.
As she turned around, she also noticed the third J's clothes looked like they'd been washed in a bleach load. "Hi, Jer- Jo- Jim- what is it?-"
< Scarlett thought this would be as good a time as any to take over for a bit. "Mr. White." This earned her an appreciative smirk from both the person she was talking to and the one who was standing there - not that anyone else would have known the difference.
"Presumably you want to go talk," she continued, not bothering to make it a question. He nodded, and she stood up, leaving Sandi and Tiffany to their own devices.
They headed for a corner table that was otherwise vacant and sat down. "I hope you're having better luck than I am," Scarlett started. "Someone figured it would be funny to see me dealing with a fashion head."
"Three of them," White corrected.
"That's not my point! My point is..." She had to stop and think about her point, and wound up changing it altogether. "If I say there's no God, do I lose my job?"
"Don't know. Wouldn't try it, if I were you. The people Below probably have enough to deal with after that... anticlimax without trying to replace you. How many jobs've you got going now, anyway?"
"Work? What do you mean, work? We just got out of Limbo, and besides, I'm currently stuck in Suburbia amongst a bunch of fashion heads. How'm I supposed to work under these conditions?"
"Check a newspaper," White explained. "You'll see what I mean. Aside from what you've mentioned, has it been a good day?"
"Eh. Been a day, at any rate. This girl has no red clothes besides this," she said, pointing out the halter top. "And a skirt that's maybe three inches long. That is soon to be remedied."
"So you're actually getting into this fashion thing?"
Scarlett treated him to a withering glare. "Only so much as it benefits me. On a related note, I may have come off lucky in regards to which fashion head I got landed in. That poor Asian girl... has she ever had an original thought in her life, and what is she taking to keep from repeating the experience?"
"Maybe stuttering therapy?"
"Stepped in what?"
"Till recently, the most anyone could do for chronic stutterers was to get them talking at one syllable per second."
"Oh." A pause for thought, then: "Hey, you haven't seen Famine around, have you?"
"You know the trade-names deal. And no."
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the class-change bell. "Catch you later," Scarlett managed to get out before Quinn was running things again.
Part 1: A Study on Fights and Fashion Sense
------
Crossover with /Good Omens/: Lawndale gets to deal with fallout from the end of the world... well, sort of.
Disclaimer: Neither involved universe is mine; just shoving them together for the hell of it.
Also, this will make a lot more sense if you've read /Good Omens/. If you want to carry on wihtout, do so, but... it's a wonderful book.
------
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Personages of Apocalyptic Significance
*War (War - makes everyone fight, or, failing that, at least argue)
*Famine (Famine - makes people really, really hungry)
*Pollution (Pollution - gets stuff messy)
The Popular Crowd
*Sandi Griffin (president of the Fashion Club, scraping-by student)
*Quinn Morgendorffer (vice-president of the Fashion Club, occasional student)
*Stacy Rowe (secretary of the Fashion Club, also an occasional student)
*Tiffany Blum-Deckler (coordinating officer of the Fashion Club, only nominally a student)
*Jamie White (a football player, one of Quinn's admirers)
*Joey (...Well, except for the name, see Jamie.)
The Cynics
*Daria Morgendorffer (a student and aspiring writer)
*Jane Lane (a student and artist)
Mystik Spiral (Members Thereof)
*Trent Lane (lead guitarist/vocalist and a slacker-narcoleptic)
*Jesse Moreno (rhythm guitarist, fond of one-word sentences)
And:
*Crowley (the only emissary of Hell whose mind has made it out of the 14th century)
Scarlett woke up with a start. After cursing falling dreams to the highest appropriate degree, she noticed her surroundings. Then she actually looked at them.
How in the world had she wound up in a canopy bed?!
This was probably part of Someone's plot to keep certain people visible, at least for a while. She wouldn't be surprised if that miserable excuse for an Antichrist was in on it. So far as that matter went, she sincerely hoped Below had better taste next time they pulled that trick.
But no matter. It wasn't going to do her any good to get steamed at her superiors at (um... clock? Anyone? Ah, there we go.) three in the morning. And besides, she was clearly going to need the saner hours to work out where - and who, from the looks of things - she was.
Problem was, she didn't know if she could get back to sleep now that she knew she was in a canopy bed...
>
She must have managed in the end. Quinn Morgendorffer, owner of the room, woke up a good twenty minutes after her alarm went off. She didn't know why she was so tired even after the extra sleep - after all, she hadn't woken up in the middle of the night.
Can't even sleep till noon, she thought for no readily apparent reason. As she made her way to her closet, her mind also seemed to be leaning toward wearing something red.
She brushed the oddity of that thought aside until she actually opened her closet and discovered the only red thing in it was her Mom-bribing halter top. (She'd lost track of the ultimatums it had earned her, not to mention the cash.) Knowing full well she'd never hear the end of it if she was caught trying to wear it to school, Quinn pulled the halter top out and started fishing around for a jacket to wear over it.
< While not incredibly happy about the lack of total control over what she was doing, Scarlett was willing to put up with having things in hand at least part of the time. It was something, and she'd take something over nothing any day. Having just sat through a solid stretch of Nothing for undefined amounts of time, she should know.
So what was this chick's schedule, anyway? There was a planner in her locker, though Scarlett doubted it was school-issued. Not if the cover was coral pink. At any rate, it probably contained some of her answers.
One of those answers was a little (all right, a lot) hard for her to accept. "Fashion Club? Whose brilliant idea was that?"
Oh, that's right, the rightful owner of the body mused. That sale at Cashman's. Sandi's only been going on about it for the last three weeks or so. I'll have to get money later.
Scarlett was definitely not looking forward to spending the entire afternoon in a shopping mall. On the other hand, she might be able to get some more red in the girl's wardrobe selection. With the slightest smirk, she set about going through the rest of the locker.
>
"Kuh-winn."
Quinn glanced sidelong at Fashion Club president Sandi Griffin. She was nearly certain that whatever was coming had something to do with the halter top. She sighed and said, "What?"
"Why are you, like, mixing primaries? That's been a fashion don't since day one, or something."
Even though she knew there was nothing wrong with a red top and blue jeans, she now had a case to argue. "Oh, honestly, Sandi, don't you know pastel blue when you see it?" (A convincing argument, though she had no idea why she was being so... forceful about it.)
"Gee, Quinn, I would think if your jeans were old enough to count as pastel, you would've, like, replaced them by now." Sandi paused in her valley-girl-isms to eat some of her salad. "Maybe your geeky cousin, or whatever she is, is rubbing off on you?"
"Saandiii..." coordinating officer Tiffany Blum-Deckler chimed in (or droned, anyway). "That /worrd/... eww."
"Look, just because I'm putting a little more effort into my classes doesn't mean I've lost my fashion sense. Besides, I thought the whole point of different styles was to get some variety in." Part of Quinn's brain was absolutely screaming for a way - ANY way - out of this stupid conversation.
"Um, Quinn?"
Not accustomed to only hearing from one-third of the J's at once, Jamie White's presence nearly went unnoticed by the three girls. however, the rebellious sector of Quinn's mind put two and two together, came up with five, and noticed Sandi had spilled her grape juice.
As she turned around, she also noticed the third J's clothes looked like they'd been washed in a bleach load. "Hi, Jer- Jo- Jim- what is it?-"
< Scarlett thought this would be as good a time as any to take over for a bit. "Mr. White." This earned her an appreciative smirk from both the person she was talking to and the one who was standing there - not that anyone else would have known the difference.
"Presumably you want to go talk," she continued, not bothering to make it a question. He nodded, and she stood up, leaving Sandi and Tiffany to their own devices.
They headed for a corner table that was otherwise vacant and sat down. "I hope you're having better luck than I am," Scarlett started. "Someone figured it would be funny to see me dealing with a fashion head."
"Three of them," White corrected.
"That's not my point! My point is..." She had to stop and think about her point, and wound up changing it altogether. "If I say there's no God, do I lose my job?"
"Don't know. Wouldn't try it, if I were you. The people Below probably have enough to deal with after that... anticlimax without trying to replace you. How many jobs've you got going now, anyway?"
"Work? What do you mean, work? We just got out of Limbo, and besides, I'm currently stuck in Suburbia amongst a bunch of fashion heads. How'm I supposed to work under these conditions?"
"Check a newspaper," White explained. "You'll see what I mean. Aside from what you've mentioned, has it been a good day?"
"Eh. Been a day, at any rate. This girl has no red clothes besides this," she said, pointing out the halter top. "And a skirt that's maybe three inches long. That is soon to be remedied."
"So you're actually getting into this fashion thing?"
Scarlett treated him to a withering glare. "Only so much as it benefits me. On a related note, I may have come off lucky in regards to which fashion head I got landed in. That poor Asian girl... has she ever had an original thought in her life, and what is she taking to keep from repeating the experience?"
"Maybe stuttering therapy?"
"Stepped in what?"
"Till recently, the most anyone could do for chronic stutterers was to get them talking at one syllable per second."
"Oh." A pause for thought, then: "Hey, you haven't seen Famine around, have you?"
"You know the trade-names deal. And no."
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the class-change bell. "Catch you later," Scarlett managed to get out before Quinn was running things again.
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