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Entry tags:
Nicked from Recessional
ALL SLOTS FILLED! I'll do my best to write these by Halloween. :)
1. Autumn/harvest/day-of-the-dead traditions in Asgard [contains Thor 2 spoilers]
2. Werewolf!Peter and werewolf!Diana being wolfy together [Peter & Diana gen, 2200 wds]
3. Natasha anything (but perhaps post-Written in Blood and Bone Natasha & Bucky)
4. Methos anything
5. White Collar, Kate meets June
6. Neal and Mozzie planning a heist on Halloween (or any Neal & Mozzie)
7. Trick-or-treating with SGA or Avengers
8. Theo trick-or-treating at the Burkes' or anything Peter/El
9. Steve & Bucky friendship or White Collar Halloween (Steve & Bucky comfortfic, posted over on AO3 due to length)
10. Anler/Taiv (Torn World)
.... Though I will add the caveat that since I'm traveling/visiting/not at the computer much this month, these might be REALLY short! I'll guarantee a couple of paragraphs but not more than that.
Avengers or White Collar are most likely to get more than a couple of paragraphs, but I'll try my hand at anything I've watched/read, and any character, pairing, or prompt is acceptable. If I truly don't think I can do it, I'll ask you to pick another.
ETA: Since I may not be able to check this post very often, you might want to look at both the LJ and DW side to see if there are still slots! First come, first served.
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----
Tonight is the night when summer gasps its last warm breath and the world pivots towards winter's endless darkness. In the modern world, mortals call it Halloween.
It was something different once. The pumpkins with lantern eyes are dim shadows of the protective talismans they used to be. Today's ghosts are children under sheets; yesterday's were the restless dead who fill the dark. The name of the festival changes, the customs change, the calendar changes. But as long as there is light and dark, there will always be rituals to appease the dark and bring back the light.
Methos knows this because he has been the thing in the darkness that mortals fear.
Tonight, however ...
"You're not seriously going to wear that, are you?"
Methos studies his reflection in MacLeod's bathroom mirror before smiling. "Yes, I am. Do you suppose anyone will give me candy?"
"Adults don't do that," Joe says from the kitchen. "Children do that. Which I sometimes think is what you are -- a five-thousand-year-old, overgrown child."
Amanda is sleek and slinky in a spotted leopard-print body suit with a tail coiled around her waist and cat ears perking up above her short hair. She carries a matching domino mask, twirling it around her gloved finger. "This is going to be wonderful. I haven't been to a masquerade in so many years."
"They're called Halloween parties now," Joe mutters into his beer.
"I can't believe I got talked into this," MacLeod complains as she takes his arm, but he looks cheerful anyway. Having refused all Amanda's efforts to talk him into a kilt and bare chest for the occasion -- "It's the traditional dress of my people, Amanda, not a party costume" -- he's a plaid-shirted, false-bearded lumberjack with his sword neatly hidden in the handle of his enormous plastic axe. "Come on, Joe, don't abandon me."
"Sorry, buddy, you're on your own." Joe cracks open another beer. "I'm usually up for a bar crawl, but not if costumes are involved. I'll be holding down the fort here, in case anyone has to be rescued from the morgue."
"What are the odds?" Amanda asks brightly. She dons her mask and hooks a claw-tipped finger into Methos's black hood. "Come on, the candle is burning at both ends and we're not even slightly drunk yet."
Methos grins at his own reflection, pulls down the plastic skull mask -- 99¢ in a bargain bin at Walmart -- and picks up his plastic scythe.
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