(no subject)

[average-adam.livejournal.com]

Date: October 31, 1999 - 5:30 pm
Status: Public
Setting: Adam's room
Summary: Everyone puts on their costumes for the party... or else.



Looking into the mirror, Adam made the final adjustments to his costume. He was pleased with the overall effect. It was rather dashing if he did say so himself. The costume was a little snug all over and the tights were odd, but the cape more than made up for these inconveniences. He snorted at the irony of his Superman costume and glanced at the clock. It was 5:30. Everyone had just half an hour to get dressed or he'd play dress up for them...

With a michevous smile and a jaunty toss of his cape, Adam went in search of Wensleydale for part two of the plan.

Comments

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John loitered impatiently near the foot of the western staircase, fidgeting. Crowley wasn't late--yet--but he was cutting it fairly close. Ten minutes til Adam's party started (and what a fun time was sure to be had by all, he thought with a dim sense of dread; the last gathering at the Manor had gone over so well) and he just hoped to Christ, or to Somebody at any rate, that the demon had come up with some sort of plausible costume idea that could be implemented in a big hurry, because John had been drawing a complete blank for weeks. His Halloweens had heretofore been spent mostly finding ways to deal with real scary things, not pretending to be one. (Or attending parties with them, for that matter. He had carefully avoided asking Crowley why he wasn't going with Aziraphale, as the topic of the angel was still off-limits by unspoken agreement. It also went without saying that it was far better to go with a mate and risk giving the wrong impression than to hazard being randomly paired with, say, Beelzebub.)

He wasn't sure what sorts of costumes Adam would come up with for recalcitrant guests who came without one, but he was fairly sure he didn't want to find out the hard way. And short of swallowing his pride and fleeing the Manor, he couldn't think of any way to get out of attending. Not that was likely to work, anyway. Bloody super-powered uberbrat and his kumbaya mentality...

He turned and looked up as footsteps sounded on the steps, and groaned. Crowley was looking very much his usual, slightly stressed-out, Armani-clad self. "'Bout time you showed up. Ah, fuck...don't tell me you couldn't think of anything either?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"Think of anything? Oh, the costumes you mean. I don't dress up. This is what I wear." He gestured to his suit.

John raised his eyebrows. "You maybe missed the part where Adam chooses costumes for us if we don't show up in one?"

"How bad could it be? He's just a kid." Crowley shrugged.

John sighed, considering the sorts of sadistic get-ups he might have inflicted on unsuspecting guests at that age, had he had the ability, and it wasn't at all reassuring. "Right, fine. But you're the one who said he had a weird sense of humor. Don't come crying to me if you wind up dressed as a Teletubby or Margaret Thatcher or something."

"A Teletubby?!?" Crowley went pale. "You don't really think..." He shuddered. "Right, John, we have to do something. Think, man! What are you waiting for?"

"Me?! You're the one who can conjure shit out of thin air. Six thousand years wandering this Earth from one end to the other and all you can think up to wear is an overpriced straightjacket?" John gestured at Crowley's suit in exasperation, then cut himself off abruptly, a peculiar expression crossing his face.

"Crowley..." he said after a moment, with the air of someone who's just been struck with a brilliant (or perhaps slightly mad) revelation.

Crowley stared. "Oh, no. No, no, no. I know what you're thinking and the answer is no. Think of something else and I'll miracle it for you instead."

In answer, John grinned maniacally. "C'mon, we've only got a couple minutes." He pushed open the door to the mens' lavatory and paused in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. "Unless, of course, you've got a secret fetish for bright purple plush..."

"You wish," said Crowley, smirking, as he followed John into the loo.

[barking-harry.livejournal.com]

Harry looked critically in the mirror. He really wasn't quite sure that the moose costume was really him. The fluffy antlers weren't too bad, even if they were a bit uncomfortable. It was more the fact that the 'body' part of the whole ensemble looked rather silly: a fluffy, and rather too clingly jumpsuit type affair with a bobtail on the rear. Still, Draco seemed to think very highly of it and had been very kind in helping him select it.

Deciding that there was nothing more he could do to improve upon the costume he sat on his bed and waited for Draco to finish getting ready.

[i-hate-crawly.livejournal.com]

After ten minutes of trying Ligur finally managed to sqeeze his left foot into the four inch stiletto heels. He was certain that he looked great. His shopping partner, a very minor demoness who knew when to cower respectfully, had assured him that the off the shoulder red, black and purple number with lots of lace he'd eventually selected really suited somebody of his status and personality. This was the first occasion he'd had to wear it. After all it didn't really do for an infernal Duke to go around in a human woman's dress looking like a tart, but given that this was a costume party he was certain he'd get away with it.

Ligur's main problem at present was that Hastur had once again disappeared once more with only a brief note about how the lurking partnership was clearly fizzling out. This in itself would have been slightly easier to deal with had Ligur been able to find another date for the party. He'd tried most of the higher standing incubi and succubi of the pit; yet nearly all of them had plead prior entanglements. He'd then gone through his little black (and red stained) book and tried three dementors, two Nazgul and a host of other creatures of the dark. None of them had been interested. He'd briefly considered temporarily dragging the gossipy tart Nagini away from the Voldemort Project for an evening, but the memories of how his KOing by the Angel Shagging Virgin had mysteriously become public knowledge throughout Pandemonium was still raw in his mind.

Realising that he was beginning to mope Ligur looked in the mirror and defiantly applied another layer of purple lipstick.

"Pull yourself together," he said to his reflection. "What would Sugarplum think if she could see you sitting 'ere mopin' about like a poncy angel."

[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

Aziraphale tugged at his odd-shaped cap, and straightened his tie one more time.

He reflected how little he had to improvise for his costume, although, truth be told, it had been years and years since he'd smoked a pipe. And they were never as cartoonish as this one. He crossed his eyes to squint down at it.

Completely ridiculous. His pipes had never loked like that.

He turned to the mirror again and studied his reflection, stroking his chin. He smiled. With his curls sticking out comically from under his cap, and his cane still at hand (a sober colour this time, not tartan), he thought he looked rather dashing.

Pride was all right for one night, he decided, and went to go see if Gabriel had arrived yet.

I'm moding Anathema until she bloody well gets her act together or is replaced, okay?

[electrictadpole.livejournal.com]

Newt shifted in his pants and winced. "Ana," he whined, "I'm sure this straw is going places it's not supposed to! And my hat is falling over my-" at this point said hat covered his eyes again, and he tripped over Anathema's foot and landed on his arse in the hallway. Luckily the straw cushioned his fall.

Anathema smothered her laughter and helped him up. "You know, you ought to play the Scarecrow in the broadway musical. If you had any singing talent at all you'd be perfect for the part."

Newt glared at her and spat out a piece of straw. "In this? Are you kidding? It's so... so ITCHY!" He shuddered. "I don't know how I let you talk me into this. And what are YOU? You're not even wearing a costume!"

Anathema smirked. "I am a psychic."

"But you're wearing your normal clothes!"

"Well? I'm a psychic, aren't I?"

Newt had to concede that point.

[radishesncorks.livejournal.com]

Luna adjusted the skirt of her costume and looked at herself in the mirror. She hadn't known that armour could clank so much - she'd always thought that the suits of armour in Hogwarts were just putting on a show. Luckily it had been charmed to be lighter than normal - Luna thought that she probably couldn't really carry the true weight of a suit of armour.

Applying the spell that Draco had so thoughtfully provided, Luna watched her hair turn red and shorten in the mirror. She was glad that her Transfiguration was really not bad.

Then, sword banging against her hip with every step she took, she made her way downstairs.

[lordofthesouth.livejournal.com]

Belial ran a finger over his lips, making sure the rouge wouldn't smudge. Kohl shadowed his eyes, and his hair had been done up in elaborate braided strands, twisted behind his head and pinned together inside the loop of a silver coronet. The thin body of an asp sprung from the silver circlet and rose over his scalp, touching his hair as it went, and drooped down between his eyes before rearing its head again.

His neck paid tribute to wealth; dozens of silver and turquoise baubles hung from long chains that dipped down to his bared stomach. The top of the outfit was sheer in places, red silk in others, finely woven to appear seamless. The white, flared sleeves were stitched at the cuff with hieroglyphs detailing prayers to Isis. Water lilies bloomed in golden thread along his arms.

He adjusted the woven white skirt, smoothing down the fur waistband and correcting the intricate fall of ruched cloth. Taking a step forward, his bare foot silent on the floor, his ankle jingling with a multitude of bells, a sway in his hips, he smiled like a dagger.

[dearwensleydale.livejournal.com]

Where else would Wensley be but the kitchen? It was practically his second room; most free time was spent there, browsing the cookbooks or looking for non-existent virgin's blood. At the moment, he was arranging platters for the party later on in the evening. Nothing fancy, of course, he told himself. Just a bit of-

He was denied the pleasure of recounting his list by the sight of Adam, zooming down the hallway in- was that a Superman cape? Bemused, he walked to the kitchen entrance and called his friend back.

[average-adam.livejournal.com]

"Wensley! There you are!" Adam was nearly bouncing in excitement. "It's nearly six o'clock. Time to put people in their costumes. You have the list?"

While Wensley pulled out and carefully unfolded the list, Adam concentrated. "Let's see. It's looks like Aziraphale, Hugo, Luna, Newt, Ligur, and Belial are the only ones dressed. Oh, and John and Crowley just got changed."

Grinning mischievously, he said, "Well, I remember a couple of them..."

In the space of a heartbeat, Gabriel was dressed like a sexy french maid and Anathema looked like Glinda, the Good Witch of the North from the Wizard of Oz. Raphael and Michael changed to Sonny and Cher, respectively, in full early-70's costumes.* Metatron became the Watson to Aziraphale's Sherlock Holmes, in a modest brown tweed suit and bowler hat and Beelzebub was suddenly a glam rocker in tight, black leather pants, an artfully ripped silk shirt, and lots of glittery makeup.

He really couldn't wait to see their faces...

"Okay, Wens. Remind me of the others?"

*Adam was particularly proud of Michael's long, black hair.

[dearwensleydale.livejournal.com]

"Well, there's..."

As Wensley rattled off the rest of the list, more popping sounds were heard, followed by both screams of terror and doors slamming as people chose to hide in their rooms until they could figure out how to remedy their situations. Horus found himself dressed as an Olympic swimmer, sporting the U.K flag on his speedo. Brian and Pepper. lounging in their rooms in various states of undress, found themselves dressed as a butler and nun, respectively. Hastur became a clown, and Mr. Wednesday found himself in a suit and stovepipe hat. Remus was dressed in all black as Darth Vader, and Sirius was Puss in Boots, resplendent in leather boots and a furry mask.

"Did we miss anyone?" Wensley wondered aloud, scanning the list quickly.

[average-adam.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, a couple," replied Adam.

"Draco just got dressed and so did De..." he stopped and glanced nervously at Wensley, "someone else. But we need somethin' for Ruby, Mr. White, and Dr. Alabaster. And I don't think Hastur's gonna be comin', so I'd better change him back."

He concentrated. Somewhere in Hell there was a second pop, an enraged Duke, and a number of sniggering subordinates.

After another moment of intense concentration, War was suddenly wearing the saffron robes of a Buddhist monk, Pestilence found himself in a rather short nurse's uniform, and Pollution was dressed as an indian brave with soft leather garments and a headband with a feather. Almost as an afterthought, Adam laughed, and Wensley was suddenly wearing a flapper dress with lots of sequins and fringe.

Before the boy could complain, Adam transported him to the ballroom with his date for the evening, Luna. Going over his mental checklist, he moved everyone to the ballroom and paired them off.

"Lessee, there's John and Crowley, Aziraphale and Gabriel, Brian and Pepper, Remus and Sirius, Michael and Raphael, Harry and Draco, and Newt and Anathema. So I'd better put the Metatron with Beelzebub, Horus with Belial, Mr. Wednesday with Ligur, War with Pollution, and Pestilence with Death."

He also took a second to barricade the food and drink tables from Pollution and Pestilence. "No sense takin' chances," he muttered.

"Well, I guess that just leaves me and Carrie..."

A final thought, and he was gone.

[angsty-death.livejournal.com]

YOU KNOW, I'M BEGINNING TO THINK THAT THIS IS A BIT UNDIGNIFIED, said Death, who was looking at himself in the mirror through blood red tinted eyes.

The Death of Rats SQUEAKED reassuringly.

YOU REALLY THINK SO? said Death, patting down his hot pink and black duct tape- for lack of a better word- dress. It had taken a while for him to stuff himself into it, it just kept sticking into the wrong places. It was a endeavor that rivaled his attempts to be jolly during Hogwatch night.

He also wore what looking like a hastily taped cardboard box covered with lime green duct tape over his head.

The girl at the Duct Tape MegaStore, shoving a costume pattern into his bony hands, had told him that the character was all the rage with people who were out of their minds. She obviously meant that it was for people that couldn't remember anything, which made Death buy it on the spot.

She also mentioned something about "doom," "paranormal investigators," and "aliens." Those silly humans.

[barking-draco.livejournal.com]

Draco stared in the mirror in dismay. Why would Luna do this to him? His gaze traveled over his reflection from head to toe, and Draco found himself wincing at the frilly pink princess gown in general, and shuddering at the tiara and the butterbeer cork decorations in particular. He felt vaguely sick. Even the ridiculous moose costume he had charmed Potter into wearing was better than this. "Ravenclaws really are the twisted ones" he said to himself, as he glanced hopelessly at the clock and realized again that there was no time for anything else.

[mssr-black.livejournal.com]

Pop!

Sirius opened his eyes when he heard the noise…

The world was somehow fuzzier. Was that… fur? Tentatively he reached his hand to his face. Yes. It was fur.

Lightning couldn’t have been as fast as the leap Sirius took from the bed to the mirror.

As he reached it he nearly fell over in a fit of chuckling. There was indeed fur on his face – in the form of a feline mask, complete with pointed little ears. He found himself in tight black riding breeches, oversized brown leather boots, a puffy shirt, and a black velvet coat. Hanging at his side was a needle-sharp rapier. Somewhere behind him, a rogue tail swished in amusement. On the table sat a musketeer hat with an ostrich plume.

He grabbed it and placed it carefully on his head.

"Puss in ruddy Boots", he mused, "or extremely poufy pirate? Anybody’s guess."

He’d completely forgotten there was to be a party tonight. Adam, it seemed, had not.

"Well," he chuckled to himself, "let’s not keep them waiting."