#thread:001

[peregrinaticn]

— horse ranch in colorado; runaway horse return

Not knowing what she wanted to do with her life was an understatement and somehow that'd translated into taking up a job at the National Park in Colorado in a city that she never expected to return to. Honestly, she'd never expected to return to the states at all, alive anyway. Not after everything she'd spent the last decade seeing. Yet, there she was, alive and well and trying to figure out how to live life after in a way that didn't involve the military. She refused to be her father. Instead, she'd spent the last year dealing with mostly boring days with little to do except patrol the mountains above Bighorn Hills, wishing for something to keep her mind busy. It was only a call like this that truly distracted her. A runaway horse. What was she in, a western? Thankfully, the animal hadn't put up much of a fight when they'd finally managed to slip a lead around his head and allowed her to lead him back to the ranch he'd run from about a mile away. By the time they'd made it, Skipper had dropped the hat from her head, holding it at her side as she led the horse up the lane to the ranch. "Nice try, bud. Looks like we're home," She spoke up, giving him a soft pat on the shoulder before she squinted in the sun, trying to find the person they said would be waiting for the horse. It wasn't until she grew closer that the shape of a human came into view. In fact, it wasn't just a human, but the shape of someone she once met in passing, someone she figured knew a lot more about her than she knew about them. Skipper swallowed and steeled herself for whatever the other woman might say. If she were lucky, maybe she'd forgotten all about her. But she doubted that, not when the other was connected to the family of her son. "Here's, uh, the culprit. Made it a mile before we found him."

@ajaguirre

[peregrinaticn]

muses: emeline cormier and tyler singh.

location: ty's home, in her cool rich person backyard probably.

The internal conflict drove her mad for almost a year; to tell Ty they decided to try for a baby or to wait until the process was irreversible to tell her. Emmy wasn't going to lie and claim that the other couldn't have convinced her to get cold feet about the entire thing — she never envisioned herself as a mom, never in a million years thought she'd be the one peeing on a stick and waiting, impatiently, for a positive to show up, and yet, she found herself doing exactly that... but it wasn't a stretch to say she was anxious about it and when she was anxious, her first response was usually to run. In the end, she decided to wait to tell her best friend until the news was actually official, played the side effects from the fertility injections off as long work hours and summer exhaustion, and her wife didn't take much convincing. Things between her and Ty were still touch and go and Emmy assumed they always would be.

The waiting game she was playing was over that morning, when three tests laid on the bathroom counter, all positive. It took everything in her not to put it off for another day, insist that they needed to confirm once more with the doctor. Even though she liked to think she was better now, that running wasn't her go-to response, sometimes the urge was still there, fighting and bubbling to the surface. Ty was her best friend, though, and she wanted the woman to be a part of this big life moment and so she dragged herself out of the house, sun beating down on her as she let herself into Tyler's home and wandered into the backyard where she knew the other would likely be by the pool. "Remind me why we haven't childproofed the doors so you won't drown when you're unsupervised?" She immediately teased upon seeing her best friend, a grin curving on her lips. For a moment, everything was good. Slipping off her sandals, she took a seat on the edge of the pool and dropped her feet into the cool water. "Can we talk for a second? I, um, have something I need to tell you, but you have to promise you won't actually try to drown yourself when I do."

@thecxtalyst

[violetpaintedbarnes]

Stepping into the halls of the academy felt like a harsh dose of reality coming back to bite her in the ass. The reactions were mixed, some were eager to tell her she was luck to be alive while others were eager to tell her how stupid she'd been. Both were true, but one she liked hearing more than the other. For the first couple of weeks, they thought she'd just ran away. It wasn't until she was found that they learned the full story, and when it did it spread like wildfire. Violet Barnes, came face to face with a strigoi and lived to talk about it. The story of how differs depending on who's telling it, and the only one who knows the truth didn't want to talk about it. 

"It's been three days, I think I can handle walking down a hallway." 

[quinntessiontalprincess-blog]

Higher then a motherfucker ------ Quick

Tagged: Quinn Fabray & Noah Puckerman

When: Sunday, 2:00 AM

Where: Puckerman Residence

Notes: Quinn goes over to snort coke and hang out with Puck. 

Quinn was thrilled when she read the Puck's response - although she didn't expect much else. Not only was she tip toeing the line between flirtatious friends and something actual sexual happening between them, but she was getting the much needed high she was without all day. The pink haired beauty wasn't particularly happy she was co-dependent on a narcotic she use to use for party purposes, but in the wake of her rebellion it just seemed so easy to fall into the dust bowl of white powder that queued a side of her wanted, needed, and lusted after by her own self. It was fun, peppy, coy, but a sexual deviance she still felt at ease in; then the Christian horror of a life of missionary that still carried over from her past as a bible thumping bottle blonde.

Quinn coaxed her lips with lip gloss that poked and prodded the nerves within to let them just tumblr out slightly more plumper then before. Her face already buffed and coaxed into perfection by her rigorous night time routine was only highlighted by the carefully selected make up regimen in front of her vanity. Eye lashes painted black, a flicker of her eye line at the top of her eyes and cheeks dusted a natural hue of pink. Her pink hair fell down her back in long thick ringlets. The ensemble was a her (now) signature thigh high black boots, tiny high waist shorts that melted into her curvy physique that peaked at her tiny waist line, and a white tank top. Her nipples looked profound without the tedious fabric of a bra when the cold picked and nipped at her skin. The breeze lashing against her body was quite the match, but her leather jacket did it's deed as a sexy accessory, and partially shielding her away from the cold.

Quinn took a taxi to Puck's house, her bag filled with a wine bottle and a bag of trinkets ranging from her wallet, lip stick, and her smokes. She paid the gawking taxi driver and walked to the door. She didn't even bother to ring the bell but walked around to the back door and opened it up. She greeted the maids with a smirk, laughing in the inside at their shock at the audacity of her strutting in to the Puckerman mansion, but even further at the drastic change of the infamous Quinn Fabray. When she reached the top floor and familiar room of Puck, she opened it up with out warning. Her bitch walk on full display. Thick thighs pouncing into the opening of the door with her head held high and lips partly open so her tongue could slip across her lips as blue eyes looked around the room and dropped on to the very sexy Noah Puckerman. "Hey." She had a evil little side smirk playful on her lips. "So, I brought some drinks, where is the coke? It's been awhile and I'm feeling a little down without it."