I need a role call.

thefanbabes:

blackboltwidow:

squealedagent19:

owlsandmonsters:

megstarkindustries:

(( if it’s not too much trouble. ))

(( We’re kinda hanging out, chilling. I think people may be sleeping still, though. ))

((Still up and running!))

((Mine are still around

((And all the kids are here too.))

((here for now))

pick a princess meme (x): belle → favorite pairing

(Source: clarieholt)

Anonymous asked:
☼ - 13

the-scarlet-witchie:

squealedagent13:

the-scarlet-witchie:

9 By chance: Our muses wake up in Vegas, already married and no way out of the marriage.

Head pounding, she squinted against the morning light and groaned. It hurt. The hum of the AC, the sunlight and the sound of traffic outside were going to make her head explode. How much did she have to drink last night?
Slowly sitting up, she caught her reflection in the mirrored, closet door. Her hair was a mess, she had a sharpie mustache and there was glitter and feathers everywhere. Wrinkling her nose she grabbed her phone to see if there was any lead to what happened during last night’s escapades. Except… it wasn’t her phone. Glancing over she saw her sleeping comrade and furrowed her brow.
"Jordan?" she croaked, shaking her shoulder, "Jordan wake up."

She slides off the bed, stabbing pain in her joints and in her head, and mumbles “Do hotel front desks usually have aspirin?”

She then thinks as she rubs her eye, tugging absently at the hem of the unfamiliar shirt she’s wearing. “I mean, I guess it’s Vegas, so if any hotels do that, it should be the ones here…”

"I dunno." she said with a shrug, trying to tame her wild feaux-hawk. "If they don’t, I’m sure they have one of those gift shop kind of places that has some." Venturing across the suite, she checked the drawers and the closet for any signs of their luggage. It seems all they had on them were the clothes on their backs, their wallets and phones. Great.

She combs her hand through her tangled blonde hair and scratches it, yawning with a pained groan as she does.

"I vote that you go check," she says through her yawn as it causes something in her stomach to swirl angrily, "And I will proceed to the bathroom, for I feel that something crawled into my stomach and died."

She then shuffles to the bathroom, grimacing and mumbling, “This is why I never drink.”

Anonymous asked:
☼ - 13

the-scarlet-witchie:

squealedagent13:

the-scarlet-witchie:

9 By chance: Our muses wake up in Vegas, already married and no way out of the marriage.

Head pounding, she squinted against the morning light and groaned. It hurt. The hum of the AC, the sunlight and the sound of traffic outside were going to make her head explode. How much did she have to drink last night?
Slowly sitting up, she caught her reflection in the mirrored, closet door. Her hair was a mess, she had a sharpie mustache and there was glitter and feathers everywhere. Wrinkling her nose she grabbed her phone to see if there was any lead to what happened during last night’s escapades. Except… it wasn’t her phone. Glancing over she saw her sleeping comrade and furrowed her brow.
"Jordan?" she croaked, shaking her shoulder, "Jordan wake up."

She places her head in her hands, wishing that they were colder and that she had some ice. Scarlet’s question brings forth a wellspring of “where’s Rory??” in her mind, but she doesn’t say that. Instead, she groans and peeks on eye at Scarlet.

"We need to find aspirin."

"A-frickin’-men to that." she sighed, rolling out of bed. Peeling her ten ton body off of the floor, she could feel all her muscles and joints straining against her in protest. As much as she’d like to sleep this off, there was much they had to do today.

"Think the front desk will have any?"

She slides off the bed, stabbing pain in her joints and in her head, and mumbles “Do hotel front desks usually have aspirin?”

She then thinks as she rubs her eye, tugging absently at the hem of the unfamiliar shirt she’s wearing. “I mean, I guess it’s Vegas, so if any hotels do that, it should be the ones here…”

Anonymous asked:
☼ - 13

the-scarlet-witchie:

squealedagent13:

the-scarlet-witchie:

9 By chance: Our muses wake up in Vegas, already married and no way out of the marriage.

Head pounding, she squinted against the morning light and groaned. It hurt. The hum of the AC, the sunlight and the sound of traffic outside were going to make her head explode. How much did she have to drink last night?
Slowly sitting up, she caught her reflection in the mirrored, closet door. Her hair was a mess, she had a sharpie mustache and there was glitter and feathers everywhere. Wrinkling her nose she grabbed her phone to see if there was any lead to what happened during last night’s escapades. Except… it wasn’t her phone. Glancing over she saw her sleeping comrade and furrowed her brow.
"Jordan?" she croaked, shaking her shoulder, "Jordan wake up."

Oh, right. Her headache reasserts itself violently in her brain, and she groans with pain.

"Right. Sure." She tips sideways on the bed, and looks down at herself. "…..Scar. Is this your shirt? Why are we wearing each other’s shirts." And since when does she call the magician "Scar"? What is even going /on/? She isn’t sure she is extremely eager to find out what had happened the previous night.

Glancing over, her brows knitted closely together. Sure enough it was her shirt. Letting her hands flop into her lap, she hung her head, trying to remember.
"Um… Jordan, I found your ring." she said noticing the ring jammed tightly around her left ring finger. "Seriously! What the heck happened? Where’s everyone else?"

She places her head in her hands, wishing that they were colder and that she had some ice. Scarlet’s question brings forth a wellspring of “where’s Rory??” in her mind, but she doesn’t say that. Instead, she groans and peeks on eye at Scarlet.

"We need to find aspirin."

Anonymous asked:
☼ - 13

the-scarlet-witchie:

squealedagent13:

the-scarlet-witchie:

9 By chance: Our muses wake up in Vegas, already married and no way out of the marriage.

Head pounding, she squinted against the morning light and groaned. It hurt. The hum of the AC, the sunlight and the sound of traffic outside were going to make her head explode. How much did she have to drink last night?
Slowly sitting up, she caught her reflection in the mirrored, closet door. Her hair was a mess, she had a sharpie mustache and there was glitter and feathers everywhere. Wrinkling her nose she grabbed her phone to see if there was any lead to what happened during last night’s escapades. Except… it wasn’t her phone. Glancing over she saw her sleeping comrade and furrowed her brow.
"Jordan?" she croaked, shaking her shoulder, "Jordan wake up."

She takes a great effort to sit up, her body creaking and groaning with protest. After ascertaining that she won’t topple over again, she slowly starts to stretch her arms, wanting to regain control of them.

"Well." She answers finally, rubbing her temple with her thumb, "Apparently I had a drink or two last night, so it’s possible." She never drinks, and this astounding monstrosity of a headache is one of the many reasons. "But I sure hope not, because I’m-" She looks at her hand, and her heart drops as her aching body suddenly stops mattering. "MY RING!!! WHERE’S MY WEDDING RING!?"

"Good God woman, would you please keep it down?" She moaned, flopping back down on the bed and shoved a pillow over her head to block out the noise. "Don’t worry we’ll find it. First, let’s just worry about curing these hangovers and retracing our steps. We’ll be sure to find your ring that way."

Oh, right. Her headache reasserts itself violently in her brain, and she groans with pain.

"Right. Sure." She tips sideways on the bed, and looks down at herself. "…..Scar. Is this your shirt? Why are we wearing each other’s shirts." And since when does she call the magician "Scar"? What is even going /on/? She isn’t sure she is extremely eager to find out what had happened the previous night.

Anonymous asked:
☼ - 13

the-scarlet-witchie:

squealedagent13:

the-scarlet-witchie:

9 By chance: Our muses wake up in Vegas, already married and no way out of the marriage.

Head pounding, she squinted against the morning light and groaned. It hurt. The hum of the AC, the sunlight and the sound of traffic outside were going to make her head explode. How much did she have to drink last night?
Slowly sitting up, she caught her reflection in the mirrored, closet door. Her hair was a mess, she had a sharpie mustache and there was glitter and feathers everywhere. Wrinkling her nose she grabbed her phone to see if there was any lead to what happened during last night’s escapades. Except… it wasn’t her phone. Glancing over she saw her sleeping comrade and furrowed her brow.
"Jordan?" she croaked, shaking her shoulder, "Jordan wake up."

"Last night," she mumbles beneath the jacket, which is becoming more unappealing by the moment because of the strong smell of alcohol. She shoves it away and winces at the light through her eyelids, which makes her head pound less like a marching band and more like a jackhammer. She rolls over again, showing to Scarlet that her face is free of sharpie, and slowly cracks one eye open. She blinks that eye and, after a pause, makes an extremely intelligent observation.

"You’re wearing my shirt."

"And you’ve got my phone." she said with a frown. Leaning over her, she reached for the device, squashing her unexpected bedmate in the process. Scrubbing at her eyes blearily, she turned on her phone and began to scroll through photos they had taken last night. Most of them were blurry or her aim was off, but there was one particular thing that caught her eye.

"Were we at a drive-in wedding last night?" she asked, looking a little more than concerned.

She takes a great effort to sit up, her body creaking and groaning with protest. After ascertaining that she won’t topple over again, she slowly starts to stretch her arms, wanting to regain control of them.

"Well." She answers finally, rubbing her temple with her thumb, "Apparently I had a drink or two last night, so it’s possible." She never drinks, and this astounding monstrosity of a headache is one of the many reasons. "But I sure hope not, because I’m-" She looks at her hand, and her heart drops as her aching body suddenly stops mattering. "MY RING!!! WHERE’S MY WEDDING RING!?"

Anonymous asked:
☼ - 13

the-scarlet-witchie:

squealedagent13:

the-scarlet-witchie:

9 By chance: Our muses wake up in Vegas, already married and no way out of the marriage.

Head pounding, she squinted against the morning light and groaned. It hurt. The hum of the AC, the sunlight and the sound of traffic outside were going to make her head explode. How much did she have to drink last night?
Slowly sitting up, she caught her reflection in the mirrored, closet door. Her hair was a mess, she had a sharpie mustache and there was glitter and feathers everywhere. Wrinkling her nose she grabbed her phone to see if there was any lead to what happened during last night’s escapades. Except… it wasn’t her phone. Glancing over she saw her sleeping comrade and furrowed her brow.
"Jordan?" she croaked, shaking her shoulder, "Jordan wake up."

The agent only rolls over, the prospect of waking up absolutely horrid in every way. Her head pounds like it’s trapped in the middle of a drum during marching season, and she can’t recall ever wanting a glass of water so badly. She reaches for the nearest thing- a jacket (not her own jacket??)- and covers her head in an attempt to block out every sound ever created.

"Jordan what are you doing in my bed?" she muttered grumpily, giving the woman’s shoulder another shove. Then again… this didn’t look like her room. Then it hit her. She and a few others from the team were in Vegas for an operation, but plans changed and then… it was all blank until now.

"Wake up, we’ve got to figure out what happened last night."

"Last night," she mumbles beneath the jacket, which is becoming more unappealing by the moment because of the strong smell of alcohol. She shoves it away and winces at the light through her eyelids, which makes her head pound less like a marching band and more like a jackhammer. She rolls over again, showing to Scarlet that her face is free of sharpie, and slowly cracks one eye open. She blinks that eye and, after a pause, makes an extremely intelligent observation.

"You’re wearing my shirt."

Anonymous asked:
☼ - 13

the-scarlet-witchie:

9 By chance: Our muses wake up in Vegas, already married and no way out of the marriage.

Head pounding, she squinted against the morning light and groaned. It hurt. The hum of the AC, the sunlight and the sound of traffic outside were going to make her head explode. How much did she have to drink last night?
Slowly sitting up, she caught her reflection in the mirrored, closet door. Her hair was a mess, she had a sharpie mustache and there was glitter and feathers everywhere. Wrinkling her nose she grabbed her phone to see if there was any lead to what happened during last night’s escapades. Except… it wasn’t her phone. Glancing over she saw her sleeping comrade and furrowed her brow.
"Jordan?" she croaked, shaking her shoulder, "Jordan wake up."

The agent only rolls over, the prospect of waking up absolutely horrid in every way. Her head pounds like it’s trapped in the middle of a drum during marching season, and she can’t recall ever wanting a glass of water so badly. She reaches for the nearest thing- a jacket (not her own jacket??)- and covers her head in an attempt to block out every sound ever created.