A/N: There's a guy on the PPMB named Thanatos who has argued that Quinn is a Ferris Bueller-style psychopath. I disagree, but it gave me a funny idea for a story.

Daria came down the stairs late one night and saw her vapid sister in the kitchen. Just her luck. She was slumped on a stool at the counter, fearfully paging through a large book entitled So You Think You're Crazy.
"Here's a tip," Daria deadpanned. "The pictures just illustrate the words, not the other way around."
Quinn peered warily over the edge of the book. "You really shouldn't poke fun at me, Daria. It might be dangerous. I'm a psychopath, you know."

"Uh-huh," Daria reached into the fridge, failing to find anything more appetizing than day-old lasagna. A moment later, her sister's words clicked and she looked up. "Wait. What?"
"Didn't you hear what I said? God, I'm so psycho I don't know what to do with myself."
Daria blinked, trying and failing to process this. "Um…"
"I'm popular and charming, right? I date a lot of guys and tell them what they want to hear, right? People say I'm not responsible, right? Come ON, Daria, you're a brain. You should get this."
"I wonder what kind of clothes are in for crazy people this season! Well, not that you would know…"
Daria raised her voice. "Quinn! Who said you were a psychopath?"
The fashion princess shrugged and kept leafing through the book, obviously absorbing none of what was written there. "I don't know! Some guy. He was a brain, but he was actually okay-looking. And really judgmental, sort of like David, so I figured he knew what he was talking about."
"Well, you're wrong. As usual." Daria settled for the milk.
"But he said," Quinn protested. "And it feels so cool! Maybe I should start wearing black again. Who do you think my first victim should be? It really should be Brooke. God, you would not believe the top she showed up in yesterday…"

Daria slammed the full milk jug onto the kitchen counter. "Quinn. I'm going to put this in words even you can understand. Why did you try to tell Lindy she had a drinking problem?"
She blinked in surprise. "Well, 'cause she's my friend and stuff! Or was my friend…"
"Exactly. So you want to help people when they're in trouble and you feel bad when they get hurt?"
Quinn rolled her eyes. "Well, DUH."
"Do you lie even when you have nothing to gain from it? Would you describe yourself as fearless or a rebel?"
"Of course not, that's just silly! And have you seen how social rebels have to dress? Sandi would laugh me out of the school!"
"Were you anything like Brian Taylor as a child?"
"Those poor cats…"
"Do you sleep around?"
Quinn recoiled. "EEE-yewwwwww!"
"Then you're not a psychopath."
"Oh NO!" Quinn cried, putting her face in her hands. "Then what am I?!"
"Shallow, clueless, and very annoying. But you're not psychopathic. He only told you that because he doesn't like you. If he's convinced himself of it, fine, but we don't need to play along. That's the advantage of having a brain. Not being one—having one. So use yours for a change. And anytime you need to be reminded of who you are, knock on my door and you'll get an earful. Now good night."
Daria chugged unceremoniously from the jug and put it back in the fridge before going up to bed, hoping this was all she would hear of the matter.