Trick or Treat Meme (Or Frea is Bored)
Oct. 26th, 2012 12:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
frea_oIn honor of All Hallow’s Eve, I’m inviting trick-or-treaters to my ‘door.’ Comment “trick-or-treat” to this post and…well, you know the drill. Treats can be anything that strikes my fancy (pics of fave actors or pairings, one sentence fics, graphics, a few words why I’m glad to have you on my flist, etc. etc.). The more “houses” to visit the more fun it’ll be, so go ahead, open your journal and help spread the fun!
Stolen from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
anuna_81. Also, I've enabled anonymous commenting for my Twitter buddies, but if you could let me know who you are, I can tailor your treat—or your trick!—just for you (aka sign your comments if you can!).
Stolen from
anuna_81. Also, I've enabled anonymous commenting for my Twitter buddies, but if you could let me know who you are, I can tailor your treat—or your trick!—just for you (aka sign your comments if you can!).
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2012-10-26 06:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-26 06:14 pm (UTC)A very spooky Halloween video for you with five of the most awesome singers on the planet!
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Date: 2012-10-26 06:13 pm (UTC)By Maximus
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Date: 2012-10-26 06:45 pm (UTC)“The Intersect was supposed to be suppressed,” Chuck said, frowning. “After everything Quinn did, she shouldn’t be able to flash at all.”
Peter Bishop made the final adjustment to the headpiece his father had created in the 80s and went over to check the monitor to make sure that it was outputting the correct wavelength readings. “You should have called the Fringe division in a long time before this,” he said as he tapped a few things into the keyboard. “Things like this Intersect are kind of our department. We deal with the spooky.”
“It’s more technological than spooky,” Chuck said. He didn’t feel that the rebuke was entirely fair—how the hell was he supposed to know that the man who had served as a TA in his physics seminar at Stanford worked for a secret government department?—but at this point, he’d give his right arm for Sarah to look at him the way she used to. His left arm, too, and any number of toes, really.
Oh, who the hell was he kidding? He’d give everything.
Sarah sat quietly wearing the headpiece, not at all perturbed by the fact that they were in a basement in Harvard. Chuck felt like that was progress. The mad scientist in a lab coat that talked about bacon-flavored mints on end hadn’t fazed her, she’d smiled politely at the harried lab assistant, and she’d calmly signed all of the paperwork the FBI agent—who could kind of be Sarah’s cousin, though Chuck didn’t say anything—had handed her.
She hadn’t even blinked at the cow.
“Okay, so we’re going to induce a flash,” Peter said, looking first at Sarah and then Chuck. “You said you brought some flash cards?”
Chuck hurriedly dug them out of his coat pocket and tried to hand them over. “Why don’t you do that part?” Peter asked.
Walter Bishop wandered back in and took the flash cards. “Fascinating! And these, as you say, cause a flash?”
“Yeah, they’re subliminal triggers,” Chuck said.
“Fascinating,” Walter said. “You know, I once met a man who had a theory that the brain could be used just like a processor for data.”
Chuck exchanged a look with Sarah. She might not remember meeting his father, but she’d read all the files on his private journal.
“He had a name…oh, it was a silly name, a constellation. Cepheus?”
“Orion?” Sarah asked as Chuck took a sip of coffee. The day just kept getting more and more surreal.
“Yes! That was it. Brilliant man.” Walter thought about it. “Made a really great raspberry rumble, too. His wife, as I recall, was a stone cold fox.”
Chuck choked on his coffee.
“You know this guy?” Peter asked Chuck.
“Let’s just say, you’re not the only son of a mad scientist around here.”
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Date: 2012-10-26 06:45 pm (UTC)Sarah rolled her neck when she was freed and gave Chuck a hesitant smile. “What now?” she asked, turning to Olivia.
“Now we let the science geeks do their thing. Coffee?”
“Sure, that would be great.”
They adjourned to a small room to the side, which Olivia Dunham obviously kept as an office. Chuck was feeling jittery from the number of coffees he’d already had, so he declined politely, and let the blondes sip in silence.
Sarah was the first one to speak. “You look so familiar,” she told Olivia. “Do we know each other?”
Immediately, Olivia Dunham relaxed. “I’ve been trying to figure that out, too.”
They both looked at Chuck, who raised his hands in a ‘whoa, there’ moment. “Not during the last five years,” he said to Sarah, and she frowned a little as she studied Olivia.
“I don’t remember too many ops with the FBI,” she said. “Although…wait, when did you go through Quantico?”
“That’s it! You were the class ahead of me.” Olivia snapped her fingers. “Okay, that makes so much more sense now.”
“Nice to see you again,” Sarah said, toasting the other woman with her coffee cup.
“It appears today is one of many coincidences,” Olivia said. She opened her mouth to continue, but the door opened, and Peter Bishop poked his head in.
“I think we can fix you,” he told Sarah, and Chuck’s heart leapt into his throat. “It’s unconventional as hell, but Walter thinks he can…well, it’s hard to explain, but he thinks he can format your brain to handle the Intersect a little better. Since we’ve got a perfect test subject right here.” He turned to look at Chuck. “You in?”
“Whatever I can do. Seriously.”
They followed him back into the lab; Chuck’s palms began to sweat, but he rubbed them dry on his jeans. His eyebrows lowered when they stopped by a huge container of some sort in the middle of the lab, with two doors on one side. “What’s this?”
“We call it the tank,” Olivia said, patting the container almost fondly. She gave Sarah an apologetic look. “If they’re planning what I think they are, you’re probably going to have to strip down. And I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Sarah asked.
“Have you taken LSD before?”
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Date: 2012-10-26 07:18 pm (UTC)That was the best! Hahaha. Wow, I want to read so much more! Sarah and Olivia sharing a "screen"! The hotness, it melts! Peter and Chuck having sciency talks! Walter being his mad scientist self. Of course Walter and Orion had met before. That makes perfect sense. Seriously, this could make for an awesome full-length one-shot.
*puts his shotgun down and decides to let this plot bunny live*
Thank you!
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Date: 2012-10-26 07:28 pm (UTC):)
Did you enjoy your dollar?
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Date: 2012-10-26 06:19 pm (UTC)Because Natasha wants a treat.
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Date: 2012-10-26 07:06 pm (UTC)Because they had about four hours to kill before extraction could arrive, and Steve had asked for a little alone time—Natasha suspected he just didn’t like others to see him in pain—they headed into Istanbul to play tourist for a couple of hours. Natasha enjoyed these interludes more than she let on: Clint got a kick out of taking on a persona, whether it was an “ugly American” or a local, and he could usually goad her into playing along.
Today, they were tourists. Cliff and Nadine Wurst (because he made a bad pun about falafel and she called him “the Worst,” he said), enjoying an exotic trip to Turkey as a way to get away from their native Des Moines. It meant Midwestern accents and a lot of gawking, as though they weren’t armed to the teeth and terrifying besides.
Tourism meant wandering through the Hagia Sophia (and trying not to laugh at the pitiful security) and the Blue Mosque. It meant street vendors and containing her laughter at the way Clint wrinkled his nose at her ayran. It meant buying gaudy things as a joke for Coulson, who would give them a pained look because he would feel obligated to display them in his office. Manners, Natasha had always told him, would be the end of him.
They headed to the Grand Bazaar with that goal in mind, which was one of the greatest shopping meccas in the world, so Natasha didn’t mind. She browsed the stalls until she heard, “Oh, that’s perfect,” from Clint.
He held a small red fez with a golden tassel in his hands.
“Uh, that’s a bit small for Coulson, don’t you think?”
Clint grinned. “It’s not for Coulson.”
“Don’t you think we’ve got enough clothes around the Tower for when one of us gets de-aged?” Natasha asked, for that unfortunate scenario happened more often than any of the Avengers wanted to admit.
“Oh, probably,” Clint said, and paid for the fez.
They bought Coulson a sequined street-air painting of the Hagia Sophia, and some beautiful scarves for Pepper, and some of the local cuisine to take back for Thor because he was always curious about other cultures in Midgard. For Steve, they found the Turkish version of his shield, and a tiny Turkish Iron Man action figure for Tony. For Bruce, they bought coffee beans, as the man inexplicably adored Turkish coffee. Natasha stopped by an electronics stall while Clint was off haggling over some local-made arrows.
It wasn’t until they arrived back and Dummy, as ever, found her outside her room, that Natasha figured out who the fez was for.
She smiled at Clint, who trailed after the robot, as she petted Dummy on his armature. “Just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
“What? He looks fantastic.”
“Yes, he does,” Natasha said, and Dummy preened.
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Date: 2012-10-26 07:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-26 07:40 pm (UTC)Dummy, of course, is sulking in a corner because Tony stole his hat.
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Date: 2012-10-26 07:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-27 05:03 am (UTC)I love that! Why didn't I read this yet!!!! This must be rectified ASAP. Bad me!!!! I love the level of mutual comfort here - all of this feels like they've been together for years and been doing this for years and it's fun.
Coulson and his manners and action figures and TURKISH COFFEE (not only a brand of coffee but also a way to make it - best way!) - ALL OF IT - i just LOVE it. <3333333333!!!!!!!!
Now I have to know more about Dummy.
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Date: 2012-10-27 05:44 am (UTC)And I've never had Turkish coffee, though my friend assures me it is THE BEST coffee. We debated if Bruce would have the equipment to make it, and figured he would. I'm glad you enjoyed your treat! :) I enjoy a good keyboard smashing comment, so yay!
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Date: 2012-10-27 05:50 am (UTC)Also, I'm in a bit of hurry right now - but if you want me to tell you how to make turkish coffee, I can do that. If you have the ground coffee (not beans) all you really need is a coffee pot. and yes, THE BEST COFFEE, PERIOD.
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Date: 2012-10-26 07:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-26 07:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-26 07:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-26 08:05 pm (UTC)Below her on the ground, Tony threw his new shield and caught it with a whoop before charging into an entire group of Skrulls, knocking them gleefully aside with his fists. For a man who let weaponry do all the work, he had taken to the brute force that was Captain America rather quickly. Possibly far better than Steve, who looked large, green, and vaguely embarrassed to be roaring about in only a pair of pants.
At least the Hulk’s pants were magic, Tony had told him.
Natasha saw a group of Skrulls break off from the main set and head for Thor, who was currently mid-flip, his thighs wrapped around a Skrull’s neck, and headed over to provide air support. Clint flew by, clinging to Mjolnir and hollering like a cowboy at a rodeo. He’d yanked off the cape first thing (“No capes!”), of course, but he still wore the silver-plated armor and chest piece.
He waggled his eyebrows at her as he crashed to the ground, swinging Mjolnir to take out a couple of the enemy. Natasha rolled her eyes in reply and went to go take care of a group that Bruce had noticed was trying to break off. She took out two with a repulsor and Bruce fired an arrow into the eyesocket of the third, providing cover.
“Thanks,” she told him over the comms. As a favor, she blasted away two of the Skrulls that were trying to sneak up behind his perch on the building ledge.
He saluted her as she flew by.
The Avengers were used to working together, and working together unconventionally at that, so it probably surprised nobody that the changes didn’t trip them up at all. Within twenty minutes, there were a bunch of Skrull bodies in the street. Steve was trying to cover himself with a billboard, Tony was tossing things around just because he could, and Clint was brushing his flowing blond locks back. Natasha dropped Bruce off first and landed next to him—a little unsteadily, which made Tony snicker—and flipped the helmet back to look around. The catsuit just looked…awful on Thor, but the God of Thunder was snickering as he made the Widow’s Bite shoot tiny lightning bolts.
“Anybody spot bad guy?” Steve, always the leader, asked.
“I think he went thattaway,” Bruce said, pointing.
Natasha fell into step next to Clint as the Avengers wandered off together to let the police, who were used to this kind of thing, handle the clean-up. “Think this Ethan dude can change us back?” Clint asked after a minute.
“What, you don’t enjoy being a giant blond behemoth?”
“Feel blind,” Clint said.
Natasha understood. She felt like a hulking, clunky mass in the suit, no matter how fantastic it had been to actually fly during a fight.
“You know, we should be grateful none of us listened to Tony,” Clint said after a minute.
Natasha nodded, which felt weird in the suit. They’d been going trick or treating as each other this year, a publicity stunt that SHIELD had forced them into, when the curse had hit. Thankfully, the Skrulls were easy to pick out of the crowd, as they hadn’t been ghosts or demons or Power Rangers or the things everybody in the city had dressed up as, and subsequently turned into.
“I doubt ‘Natasha and the Pussycats’ would have been a great way to fight Skrulls,” she said, agreeing. “It’s harder than you think to fight evil in a miniskirt.”
“Yeah, but the theme music would have been fantastic.”
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Date: 2012-10-26 08:11 pm (UTC)I have not yet stopped laughing. I love it!!
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Date: 2012-10-26 11:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-26 11:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-27 05:22 am (UTC)By Kit-Cat... mostly Cat.
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Date: 2012-10-27 06:25 am (UTC)That fact was strange enough. The fact that he was also dry, and wearing boxers as opposed to his preferred briefs was even stranger. And frankly a bit disconcerting, if he was going to be completely honest with himself. He recognized the feel of the tux—the restrictive, pinching shoes, the cut of the pants, the fit of the jacket around his shoulders, and most of all the fact that the bowtie was partially restricting his airflow—all before he was fully awake. Multiple missions prior to the Bartowski clan had seen to that.
Still, it took him a minute before he opened his eyes, just in case he had somehow fallen asleep on a mission. If a superior was about to chew him out, might as well enjoy the obliviousness for a minute.
There was no superior standing over him and glaring. Instead, he awoke to find himself in an unfamiliar room, stretched out on a recliner.
Wearing a tuxedo.
He lifted his head, noting the room dimensions, egress points, looking for any signs of a hostile force, before he saw her. There was a couch a few feet away from his recliner which looked dusty from years of disuse—and smelled worse—and Carina was asleep on the cushions, curled on her side. Her hair flowed like a soft red waterfall over the side, her face was slack with sleep, and she wore a black dress that was as stunning as it was brief.
As Scott stared at her, perplexed—she had definitely not been wearing that before, he would have remembered—she rolled over onto her back. The dress hem inched up a couple of inches, exposing more thigh.
Scott looked at the ceiling very quickly. He tried to lift his arm to rub his face with his hand, but it was attached to something. Handcuffed, he saw, to some kind of metal briefcase on the floor.
What the hell?
He pushed the footrest down into the seat, pulling the recliner to its upright position and leaned over to pick up the briefcase. He set it in his lap and stared, bewildered, at the post-it note on top of it.
Do Not Open!!
A cell phone went off, but the ringtone wasn’t familiar. Scott jumped; on the couch, Carina stirred. It took Scott a minute to realize that it was coming from his suit jacket. With his free hand, he reached inside and pulled out a small black burn phone. The number was unlisted.
Carina’s eyes snapped open. They widened as she took in their surroundings, her gaze prowling up his body lasciviously enough for Scott to start blushing again. But after that brief lapse, Agent Miller took over. “What’s going?” she asked, sitting up.
“I don’t know,” Scott replied. “I just woke up myself. I was already wearing the tux, and this was in my pocket.”
He held up the ringing phone.
“Going to answer it before it goes to voicemail?” Her eyes trailed down to his wrist and the briefcase handcuffed to him.
Scott shrugged and pressed the ‘talk’ button. “Who is this?”
“Agent Barstow.” The voice on the other end of the phone was modulated and careful—and they knew his name. Crap. “You have thirty minutes to deliver the briefcase to the address on the note by the door. You will be given further instructions once you arrive.”
“What are you—”
“Fail to complete this mission, Agent, and a lot of people will die.”
The line went dead.
Scott slowly hung up the phone and looked at Carina. She stared back for a second before she let out a long sigh. “Our night just got weirder, didn’t it?” she asked.
“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but, yes. Yes, it did.”
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Date: 2012-10-29 10:17 pm (UTC)by MKudron
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Date: 2012-10-30 10:56 pm (UTC)“Okay, first thing’s first.” Chuck, somehow sensing that Violet was creeping toward the collection of knives that he had laid out, plucked his daughter from that side of the table and unceremoniously plopped her down on his other side. “We need to hollow these babies out. If you’re over twelve and know how to use a knife properly, that means you get to participate.”
“I’m almost twelve!”
“You’re turning five in two days. That’s not even close.” Chuck patted Violet on the head, and she sulked. “Nice try.”
“I’ll be twelve soon,” Violet said, giving him an annoyed look.
“I know. Sarah, as the guest here, you get your choice of knife first.” Chuck swept a hand toward the collection on the table like a salesman showing off his wares. “Choose wisely, for this is serious business.”
Sarah picked up a knife.
Chuck’s eyebrows rose. “Are you sure you want that one?”
Was he kidding? She tossed it from hand to hand before she really thought it through, for indeed Violet’s eyes widened and she breathed out a long, “Cooooooool. Can I try that, Miss Sarah?”
“No,” Chuck said, and Sarah hid her wince. “Knives are for adults.”
“I’m almost an adult!”
“Nuh-uh, I’m the dad here and you’re not an adult ’til I say you are one, so no knives.”
Violet scowled at him before she scampered around the table, which had been covered in newspapers in preparation for their evening of pumpkin carving. She crashed into Sarah’s side, immediately wrapping her arms around Sarah’s waist, and rested her chin on Sarah’s hip. “How’d you learn to do that?” she asked. “You’re really good at that.”
“When you’re an adult, I’ll show you,” Sarah said, though she was pretty sure it was a lie. She would be long gone—or probably dead, as agents didn’t exactly have the longest lifespans—by the time Violet was considered an adult. “But no touching the knives until then.”
Violet sighed, long and long-suffering. “’Kay,” she said.
“Now we cut off the hat,” Chuck said, putting on an exaggerated accent that Sarah didn’t recognize, save that the ‘w’ became a ‘v’ sound. He began sawing at the top of the pumpkin, around the stem, holding his knife like an amateur. Sarah nearly winced again. “It will be magical!”
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Date: 2012-10-30 10:56 pm (UTC)She cut a neat hole. “Can Miss Sarah cut mine instead of you?” Violet asked Chuck when he held up his own pumpkin stem. “Hers is so much neater.”
“Replaced,” Chuck said, holding the pumpkin stem to his heart (and leaving a wet blotch on his T-shirt. “Replaced in my daughter’s heart by a blonde.”
“Aw,” Violet said, and scrambled off of the table to hug him. “I still love you lots, Daddy.”
“No, no, I see how it is. You’ve chosen Sarah over me. I hope you can live with your choice, Megabyte. She cuts a neater hole.”
“But you’re better at lots of stuff, too.”
“Like what?” Sarah asked as she pulled Violet’s smaller pumpkin to her, in order to cut the stem out. She was getting better at playing along, she thought, when Chuck was being melodramatic, even if she wasn’t quite to the level of making monkey noises and bouncing around the room with the others. She wasn’t quite that far gone, after all.
“Like…” A frown line appeared between Violet’s eyebrows as she thought it over, tilting her head to look up at first Chuck and then Sarah. “Like…”
Chuck started laughing. “This is inspiring so much confidence,” he told Sarah.
“You’re taller!” Violet said, pointing at him. “There.”
“There you go,” Sarah said. She set Violet’s pumpkin, with the steam very neatly cut out, on the table between them. “You’re taller.”
“Glad that’s settled.” Chuck waggled his eyebrows at her before he turned to his daughter. “Are you ready for this next part? It’s ooky-icky part. Now we get to reach in and pull out guts.”
Violet peered into her pumpkin. “Looks gross,” she said. “Is it safe?”
“Sure, it’s safe.” Chuck reached into his pumpkin, digging his entire forearm into the goop. “Safest thing on the plan—oh, God! Oh, no!”
Sarah had to forcibly stop herself from reaching for her gun.
“What is it? What is it, Daddy?” Violet, ever the curious, crept closer to him, her eyes wide on the pumpkin while Chuck pretended to twitch and to writhe in place. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s—” Chuck yanked his hand out; it was now covered in glistening orange goo, with a few tendrils of orange and stray pumpkin seeds stuck in the mess. “It’s turning me into Pumpkin Man!”
“There’s no such thing,” Violet said, but she looked uncertain.
“I can feel—the changes coming—” Chuck, other hand on his elbow, continued to wiggle about before all of a sudden he went absolutely still. He turned the world’s biggest, scariest grin on his daughter. “Better run, Megabyte, or you could become Pumpkin Girl!”
He reached out with his gooey hand; Violet needed absolutely no prompting whatsoever to take off running, already shrieking. “Save me, Sarah!” she called over her shoulder, and Sarah was too busy laughing at the both of them to notice that this was the first time she’d become Sarah and not Miss Sarah.
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Date: 2012-10-31 03:08 am (UTC)Fabulous snippet, as usual, Frea. :)
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Date: 2012-10-31 03:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-30 11:19 pm (UTC)