Mother and daughter: kick-ass with a gun.
‘Twas the night before Fringemas, and all through the lab,
are body parts, organs, a corpse on a slab.
The beakers and flasks antiseptically clean,
with holiday chemicals dyed red and green.
The agents are nested all snug in their beds,
hoping for dreams without bursting of heads.
And here I am spiking my eggnog with rye,
recalling the joys of a year just flown by.
A gruesome attack on a jaw-dropping flight,
allowed my escape from the men dressed in white.
We needed to contact the brain trapped within,
a comatose agent with translucent skin.
A woman who wanted a quick one night stand,
gave birth to a baby the size of a man.
And then came the fellow who went half insane,
from the terrible sights in his radio brain.
On Peter, On Astrid, On Charlie, and Gene!
We’ll find Mr. Broyles is securing the scene.
To the sight of the blast, then back we repair,
after seeing a capsule and a man without hair.
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
our magnetic pigeons took to the sky.
We blew up a papaya, just like the girls brain,
and out formula stopped it from happening again.
A man had a parasite wrapped ‘round his heart,
a marvelous creature near tore him apart.
An unsolved equation, to my utmost chagrin,
forced my return to the nut house again.
When a Massive Dynamic man fell with a splatter,
Twas poisonous toads at the heart of the matter.
Once more in the dreamscape, Olivia sought,
to commune with her traitorous love, John Scott.
As jolly old Santa used chimneys, not doors,
a man breached vaults threw the walls and the floors.
But leaving no toys, they stole mine instead,
who’s secrets I locked in my very own head.
A new year commences with the passing of old,
after 17 years I came back from the cold.
Experiments finished, and new ones begun,
a new little family, complete with my son.
So much has happened, and so much is about to,
and we don’t want to locate the pattern without you.
There’s madness afoot, so until our next fright,
Merry Fringemas to all, and to all a Fringe night!
mr. papaya gets a mentiOn. sO happy :’)
Best. Story. Ever. #Fringe
Speaking of Olivia, we asked Wyman when her wedding ring might resurface (since Peter wears his on a chain). “When it comes, it comes,” he hedged. “It’s a very personal thing for the character.”
- Matt Mitovich via Joel Wyman (via annietorv)
Maybe she puts it on right as she dies. #PleaseDontKillMe
Ascot, look. It’s my son and his girlfriend.
So much eye-sex in this *-*