squealedagent13 - Tumblr blog

[squealedagent13]

((here for now))

I need a role call.

(( if it’s not too much trouble. ))

[squealedagent13]

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

[squealedagent13]

[squealedagent13]

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."

☼ - 13

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."

[squealedagent13]

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..."

☼ - 13

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."

[squealedagent13]

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."

☼ - 13

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."

[squealedagent13]

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.

☼ - 13

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."

[squealedagent13]

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!?"

☼ - 13

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."

[squealedagent13]

"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."

☼ - 13

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."

[squealedagent13]

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.

☼ - 13

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."

[squealedagent13]

I'm gonna learn parkour.

[squealedagent13]

[Months. Vir has been sick for months, with no sign of getting better. Grey has investigated, but he can’t figure out what’s wrong with the anon. He can’t sleep, can’t do anything for fear of nightmares and this overwhelming exhaustion. Whereas anons don’t usually need sleep, it is obvious that...

[squealedagent13]

Source

[squealedagent13]

[squealedagent13]

"I know they call this a loveseat, but I'm not feeling anything special towards you"

"Okay, well," the agent says, leaning back in the huge chair with a grin, "You're missing out on some pretty great feelings. Plus, this was the only seat left in the room, so I didn't think you'd mind sharing it."

[squealedagent13]

Ask Meme - F•R•I•E•N•D•S version

"Isn't that just kick-you-in-the-crotch-spit-on-your-neck fantastic?"

"I wanna quit the gym!"

"I wanna quit the bank!"

"You big tree..."

"How you doin'?"

"Wax the door shut. We're never leaving, ever."

"We were on a break!"

"I'm not great at the advice...can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?"

"I tell people secrets, it makes them like me."

"[name] doesn't share food!"

"Three failed marriages, two illegitimate children....the personal ad writes itself."

"Well I couldn't tell her I was naked. She's allowed to see me naked."

"Why does anybody have to be naked?"

"Because, sometimes after you sleep with someone, you have to kill a fish."

"Are you sure you peed on the stick right?"

"It's not that common. It doesn't happen to every guy. And it is a big deal!"

"No one ever listens to me. When the package is this pretty, no one cares what's inside!"

"Oh my God. You still have feelings for me, don't you?"

"In my defense, it was dark, and he was a very pretty guy!"

"Whoa, whoa, kindergarten flashback."

"Whoa, whoa, prom night flashback."

"Awww. Oh no, wait a minute. I have no one!"

"I have no idea what's going on but I'm excited."

"I'm so excited I may vomit."

"Hey, if we were in prison, you guys would be like my bitches."

"It was 18 pages. Front and back!"

"You're my lobster."

"Stick out your tongue."

"Take off your shirt!"

"Yeah, I know it must be important to you when you start chattering like a monkey."

"You know what they say, ask your slippers a question...you're going crazy."

"Did you see the kid on that nose?"

"We saw them doing it through the window. Actually, we saw them doing it up against the window."

"Crossed the line? You're so far past the line! The line is a dot to you!"

"I know they call this a loveseat, but I'm not feeling anything special towards you."

[squealedagent13]

You and he have entered the era of washing machines. This is the steady heartbeat. This is the synchronized breathing. This is sleepy summer afternoons where soft silence beads between you. You are familiar, you are touching only knuckles or ankles or elbows but still always somehow connected. You are looks passed to one another when newer couples fall in love in front of you, you are certainty in a changing world. You are linked hands and walks in the park discussing what sort of dog breed you’d be if you had been born as one. You are resting your head on his lap while he finishes his book and he is drawing patterns on your spine while you finally get around to answering your email. You are television marathons and eating more ice cream than either of you are terribly proud of. This is conversation less about secrets and more about passing the salt, this is comfort. You are sitting on a dryer and reading your English essay aloud, he is sorting laundry. You are making breakfast and he is falling asleep into his coffee. You agree to clean the kitchen if he will wash the dishes. He makes you pasta and you sit on the counter, strumming a guitar slowly. You play Wonderwall as a joke and he pretends to find it funny. He is the only one you feel safe in front of. You two are comfortably odd, letting out the scraps of your personality too weird for public but just weird enough for each other. You lick his jaw, he bites your collarbone, you both laugh and kiss and breathe in the taste of the other person’s amusement. You are not afraid to make a mistake. He loves you anyway. When the two of you fight, it is full of fire, full of pent-up, full of things you regret as soon as they crawl out of your mouth. But when the two of you fight, there is still a current below it: he loves me and I love him. This is certain. You fight, but you make up when the steam has cleared, you both apologize, you both forgive. You hug tight and sigh and feel good in the warmth that he gives. And when he kisses you, maybe it is not always the fevered passion of the first one, but it is always with love. Having him is closing your eyes and falling and knowing he will catch you. Having him is one part nights with bite marks and bruises and out of breath and one part smiling when he pulls you closer to him in his sleep and waking up from darkness to gentle kisses if he notices you’re nightmaring. It is simple. It is uncomplicated. It is not fancy or forced or even extremely poetic. It is plastic forks and being in your underwear and arguing about which radio station and having someone to take to parties, it is dumb gifts and changing lightbulbs and grocery trips and good lord, it is absolutely perfect.

Soft dies the light (part four) /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)