welcome to storybrooke ❧ network community

Sucked through a portal. Vortex manipulator fried. No idea how to get back. Stuck in a world with actual magic and the promise of quite a bit of confusion and danger.

I must say, I haven't had this much fun since...honestly, I can't remember when I last had this much fun. It's like Christmas come early.

Sweetie, you must be about somewhere. There's no way you'd miss out on this much trouble, even if you are trying to behave yourself. Come on then, front and center.

In the event you're not paying attention, which wouldn't surprise me in the slightest, could someone point me in the direction of the Doctor?

WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?

[ filtered away from sam; ]

If anyone gets the smart idea to mention this "Supernatural" show to my brother, I will cut your throat. Don't think I won't. I'm not trying to be mean here or anything, but it's just a request. Me, asking a bunch of random people for a favor. He can't know.

[ public; ]

I think I need a job, I'm almost out of beer money. And the locals are starting to catch on that I'm hustling them.

( ((Unfiltered, but cut for mentions of adult and ridiculous dinosaur books)) )

I don't know whether to be angry or just unsurprised. No. Angry. I'm definitely still angry. Of course those cheating sons of bitches won. I wouldn't be surprised if they paid Wilson to take a dive. Though it seemed like the entire Seahawks team was taking stupid pills by the end of it, so it might have just been a case of collective idiocy. The Pats shouldn't have made it this far anyway. Them and their sanctified asshole of a quarterback and dirty dealing coach. That whole outfit is crooked. But what the hell do you expect to come out of Boston?

So, sorry this is late but I was recently traumatized by about four thousand different things, not least of which being the fucking alien god who doesn't know how to go about making friends, hint not mind control, but it's time to extend the yearly invitation to the Barton-Romanoff Secret Agent Thanksgiving Dinner. Dinner being used in the loosest sense of the word. Also, Thanksgiving. For our purposes, those words mean vodka, Chinese takeout, and poker. This will all be taking place at the Clint Barton Home for Wayward Failboats and Spysassins, and possibly in a giant blanket fort depending on the varied emotional states of the household that day. SHIELD attendance is mandatory. Other people we know are welcome, including significant others of SHIELD people and their angry Jewish and/or Jersey friends. Loki, if you try to come, someone will set you on fire. Other Loki, I don't mean you. You and Steph are fine. If anyone in the house has anyone they want added to the no invite list, speak now, or speak later, whenever's cool.

We probably have enough room for everyone. There are cats, so mind your allergies. We will have all the eggrolls, they're basically the equivalent of stuffing anyway. When I say all the egg rolls, I mean it. Grant is ridiculous and we love him. Feel free to bring extra takeout if you want. And extra blankets in case of expansion.

Huh. Well. Can't say I haven't seen weirder.

And apparently technology has progressed rather rapidly in the last... What year is it again?