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Nov. 7th, 2008 12:56 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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still_grrrWell, the holiday is over, so let's see what some people did for Halloween. Three drabbles and two ficlets on a theme. None of them is exactly of the happy sort, sorry.
Title: Why Are You Wearing That Stupid Human Suit? Five Halloween Costumes
Author: Beer Good (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
beer_good_foamy)
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 1100 (100+100+100+300+500, that spells M-O-O-N)
Prompt: 090: Halloween Free-for-all
Characters: Faith, Fred, Snyder, Wood, Lindsey
Summary: Five times five people got dressed up. Or didn't. The length of the title is dedicated toxlivvielockex. :-)
"Creatures of the night shy away from Halloween. They find it all much too crass." (Rupert Giles)
The Creature From The Black Leather Lagoon
Faith never dressed up for Halloween as a kid. If she wanted candy she could swipe it at the store, long as Mom didn't find out. Besides, nowadays she gets enough monsters the other 364.
So while Buffy and her friends sit around watching movies, braiding each other's hair or whatever they do at those inner circle meetings, Faith leaves her motel and hits the Bronze in leather and lipstick. She grabs the nearest guy who looks like he knows his stuff and isn't dressed like a Creepshow reject and drags him into the back room.
"Hey, what -"
"Treat."
Come As You Aren't Year
Fred loves Halloween. Over the years, she's dressed up as a ghost, and Lizzie Borden, and MacGyver (nobody got that one), and many more. She and Pa would make the costume together, then they'd go around town until she could barely carry her bucket o' chocolate.
It's probably late October now - it's a harvest festival, after all. But everyone's wearing the same costume; the same chafing collar, the same torn rags, the same downcast eyes as they're herded from field to back-breaking field. Cows stay in character if they want to eat. And there's nobody here to carry you home.
Fear me
Snyder's parents bought costumes for him and made him go trick-or-treating with his "little friends." Somehow they always managed to buy the costumes that make the other kids laugh and the grown-ups go "awww, ain't you the cutest little thing." The Superman costume that hung off him like pajamas; the Robin Hood costume where the bow broke right away; the little devil costume where everyone stepped on his tail.
Snyder owns 14 suits. Each one says "I'm in charge." Each one is supposed to put the fear of God into those bratty kids.
Somehow, not one of them fits perfectly.
Mother's Milk Is Red Today
Robin looks in the mirror. Not bad. The shades that cost him two allowances both make him look bad-ass and hide the shiner. He hasn't found her coat – apparently it went missing, after – but the black t-shirt is almost as cool. He's tried to make his hair like hers, but Uncle Bernard makes sure he cuts it regularly and it just won't stand up the way he remembers it doing. But he's got the don't-fuck-with-me glare down, and the stake in his hand feels good. He tries different grips, trying to figure out which one she would have used, which one will get the job done.
Uncle Bernard shudders when he walks in, as if he's seen a ghost. "And you're sure about this?"
"Yeah."
"Right. Now, first of all, let me make this clear: this is not a reward. I will not stand for you getting into fights in school, and you will be punished for it."
"But he -"
"But he what?"
"...Nothing."
"Nothing is right. As ridiculous a tradition as Halloween is, even by American standards, you cannot go around beating up classmates for dressing up as vampires."
"He started it," Robin mutters.
"That's beside the point. Now, I will teach you how to fight, if only to make sure that you don't get yourself killed. It won't be easy, and with any luck you'll realise you're not cut out for this. But that's the last time you ever picked on an innocent; do we understand each other?"
Robin grins despite the sharpness in the old Watcher's voice. "Yes, Sir."
"Fine. Meet me in the back yard in ten minutes." He starts to walk out, then turns back with a pained expression on his face. "And for God's sake, comb your hair. You look like a fool."
Mansion On The Hill
On Halloween, six months after he left LA, he finally allows himself to relax a little. After all that running and hiding, being constantly on the look-out, he finally gets 24 hours when he can be sure that all Wolfram & Hart agents are busy. Even field agents miss the annual office party at their own risk, even tracking down rogue employees isn't a priority.
Lindsey spends the day doing things he'd almost forgotten could be luxuries. He sleeps late, without a gun under his pillow. He goes out in broad daylight, walks around town. He goes into a local bar with a jukebox playing Hank Williams. He has a beer, talks to a few of the people at the bar, flirts with the waitress, has a proper meal in the time it takes to eat a proper meal. He has another beer, and another. But he knows his reprieve is running out, and at 10 PM he pays up and leaves.
He walks back through town towards the motel – first time in weeks he's dared to stay in the same room two nights in a row. He's getting sloppy. He passes a big house, with a Lexus and a Merc parked outside. The outside looks familiar; there were houses like that where he grew up, too.
There were times in his life when he would have killed to have that, he thinks.
A voice inside him points out that there were times in his life when he did. Yeah, that was wrong, but it's not like he can undo it, right? And what does he have to show for it now? Lilah's probably got his old office, even Angel gets a hotel of his own, Darla's God knows where, and he's right back where he started.
Full of dark thoughts, Lindsey crosses the road and sees the oncoming Volvo at the last second; it brushes against him, he loses his balance and skins his palms on the sidewalk. "Son of a bitch."
"Geez, buddy, are you alright? I'm really sorry..." The driver is out of the car immediately, his young daughter still safely belted up in the passenger seat. "I swear, I didn't see you coming, I -"
"It's alright," Lindsey assures him, wiping off the blood on his t-shirt. "It's nothing."
"But you're bleeding! At least let me take you to the hospital, or call you a doctor, or..."
"I said I'm fine." Hospitals have records. Even under a false name, Files & Records would find him in hours. Change the subject. "You, uh, you guys out trick-or-treating?"
"Yeah." The driver looks relieved. "Say hi to the nice man, Katie."
"Hi," the girl chirps. "I'm a princess."
Lindsey takes in the silver tiara, the custom-made dress. "You sure are, sweetheart."
She regards his bloody shirt and hands with the curious attitude of someone who's never seen anything like that before. "What are you supposed to be?"
He looks at his stained hands and shrugs. "A lawyer, I guess."
Title: Why Are You Wearing That Stupid Human Suit? Five Halloween Costumes
Author: Beer Good (
beer_good_foamy)Rating: PG13
Word Count: 1100 (100+100+100+300+500, that spells M-O-O-N)
Prompt: 090: Halloween Free-for-all
Characters: Faith, Fred, Snyder, Wood, Lindsey
Summary: Five times five people got dressed up. Or didn't. The length of the title is dedicated to
xlivvielockex. :-)"Creatures of the night shy away from Halloween. They find it all much too crass." (Rupert Giles)
The Creature From The Black Leather Lagoon
Faith never dressed up for Halloween as a kid. If she wanted candy she could swipe it at the store, long as Mom didn't find out. Besides, nowadays she gets enough monsters the other 364.
So while Buffy and her friends sit around watching movies, braiding each other's hair or whatever they do at those inner circle meetings, Faith leaves her motel and hits the Bronze in leather and lipstick. She grabs the nearest guy who looks like he knows his stuff and isn't dressed like a Creepshow reject and drags him into the back room.
"Hey, what -"
"Treat."
Come As You Aren't Year
Fred loves Halloween. Over the years, she's dressed up as a ghost, and Lizzie Borden, and MacGyver (nobody got that one), and many more. She and Pa would make the costume together, then they'd go around town until she could barely carry her bucket o' chocolate.
It's probably late October now - it's a harvest festival, after all. But everyone's wearing the same costume; the same chafing collar, the same torn rags, the same downcast eyes as they're herded from field to back-breaking field. Cows stay in character if they want to eat. And there's nobody here to carry you home.
Fear me
Snyder's parents bought costumes for him and made him go trick-or-treating with his "little friends." Somehow they always managed to buy the costumes that make the other kids laugh and the grown-ups go "awww, ain't you the cutest little thing." The Superman costume that hung off him like pajamas; the Robin Hood costume where the bow broke right away; the little devil costume where everyone stepped on his tail.
Snyder owns 14 suits. Each one says "I'm in charge." Each one is supposed to put the fear of God into those bratty kids.
Somehow, not one of them fits perfectly.
Mother's Milk Is Red Today
Robin looks in the mirror. Not bad. The shades that cost him two allowances both make him look bad-ass and hide the shiner. He hasn't found her coat – apparently it went missing, after – but the black t-shirt is almost as cool. He's tried to make his hair like hers, but Uncle Bernard makes sure he cuts it regularly and it just won't stand up the way he remembers it doing. But he's got the don't-fuck-with-me glare down, and the stake in his hand feels good. He tries different grips, trying to figure out which one she would have used, which one will get the job done.
Uncle Bernard shudders when he walks in, as if he's seen a ghost. "And you're sure about this?"
"Yeah."
"Right. Now, first of all, let me make this clear: this is not a reward. I will not stand for you getting into fights in school, and you will be punished for it."
"But he -"
"But he what?"
"...Nothing."
"Nothing is right. As ridiculous a tradition as Halloween is, even by American standards, you cannot go around beating up classmates for dressing up as vampires."
"He started it," Robin mutters.
"That's beside the point. Now, I will teach you how to fight, if only to make sure that you don't get yourself killed. It won't be easy, and with any luck you'll realise you're not cut out for this. But that's the last time you ever picked on an innocent; do we understand each other?"
Robin grins despite the sharpness in the old Watcher's voice. "Yes, Sir."
"Fine. Meet me in the back yard in ten minutes." He starts to walk out, then turns back with a pained expression on his face. "And for God's sake, comb your hair. You look like a fool."
Mansion On The Hill
On Halloween, six months after he left LA, he finally allows himself to relax a little. After all that running and hiding, being constantly on the look-out, he finally gets 24 hours when he can be sure that all Wolfram & Hart agents are busy. Even field agents miss the annual office party at their own risk, even tracking down rogue employees isn't a priority.
Lindsey spends the day doing things he'd almost forgotten could be luxuries. He sleeps late, without a gun under his pillow. He goes out in broad daylight, walks around town. He goes into a local bar with a jukebox playing Hank Williams. He has a beer, talks to a few of the people at the bar, flirts with the waitress, has a proper meal in the time it takes to eat a proper meal. He has another beer, and another. But he knows his reprieve is running out, and at 10 PM he pays up and leaves.
He walks back through town towards the motel – first time in weeks he's dared to stay in the same room two nights in a row. He's getting sloppy. He passes a big house, with a Lexus and a Merc parked outside. The outside looks familiar; there were houses like that where he grew up, too.
There were times in his life when he would have killed to have that, he thinks.
A voice inside him points out that there were times in his life when he did. Yeah, that was wrong, but it's not like he can undo it, right? And what does he have to show for it now? Lilah's probably got his old office, even Angel gets a hotel of his own, Darla's God knows where, and he's right back where he started.
Full of dark thoughts, Lindsey crosses the road and sees the oncoming Volvo at the last second; it brushes against him, he loses his balance and skins his palms on the sidewalk. "Son of a bitch."
"Geez, buddy, are you alright? I'm really sorry..." The driver is out of the car immediately, his young daughter still safely belted up in the passenger seat. "I swear, I didn't see you coming, I -"
"It's alright," Lindsey assures him, wiping off the blood on his t-shirt. "It's nothing."
"But you're bleeding! At least let me take you to the hospital, or call you a doctor, or..."
"I said I'm fine." Hospitals have records. Even under a false name, Files & Records would find him in hours. Change the subject. "You, uh, you guys out trick-or-treating?"
"Yeah." The driver looks relieved. "Say hi to the nice man, Katie."
"Hi," the girl chirps. "I'm a princess."
Lindsey takes in the silver tiara, the custom-made dress. "You sure are, sweetheart."
She regards his bloody shirt and hands with the curious attitude of someone who's never seen anything like that before. "What are you supposed to be?"
He looks at his stained hands and shrugs. "A lawyer, I guess."
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Date: 2009-06-11 10:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 10:23 am (UTC)