On the eighth day of Christmas...
...I had to rewrite eighth four times before I got the right spelling and my true love gave me eight masquerades, seven unwilling observers, six questions asked, five skeletons, four things that puzzle, three special treats, two changed directions, and one protective shield.
Still catching up reading posts as well so there will likely be delayed comments over the next week too.
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Rating: PG
Word Count: 157
Summary: There’s a room no-one likes to go in, right at the back of the warehouse.
“No no no no”, Myka could hear Pete’s voice and his constant babble from the other side of the warehouse and she stopped with one hand on the handle of the door.
The scuffing of feet sounded as Pete scurried around the corner, nearly sliding into one of the cabinets as he did.
“Don’t...touch that door”, he came to a stop panting and puffing beside Myka, “No-one ever goes in there but Artie”.
“Then why’s it not locked?”, Myka asked.
“Well...because it’s not - you know - dangerous or anything but”, Pete pulled a face and waed vaguely towards the door, took the box from Myka’s hands and put it on the side. Then he wrapped one arm around Myka’s shoulders and steered her away from the door.
“What’s behind there?”, Myka asked, craning her neck to keep looking at the door.
“Death masks”, Pete said, “And they get very chatty when someone new goes in there”.
Fandom: Batman Arkham Series (VG)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 134
Summary: Joker’s preparing for his final serenade.
It was awful really, what Titan did for one’s complexion. Joker’s hands were shaking as he smeared the white make-up - more face-paint really - over the bruises and the sores.
He envied the Bat, at least he had a mask to cover up the hideous side effects of this mutation. It would have been worth it if he had won. Power made up for a multitude of costs after all.
Clayface had done a good job convincing the world he was cured, but that wasn’t a permanent solution. Bats had to be close to finding the cure by now, and Joker needed to be there when he did.
He took care with the lipstick, checked it three times and touched up until he was happy. Dying really wasn’t an excuse not to look one’s best.
Fandom: Papo & Yo
Rating: 15
Word Count: 302
Summary: Quico is getting older but it doesn’t make the scars easier to hide.
College. Quico had never imagined that college was an option for him.
When they had taken his father away, Quico had bounced in and out of foster homes - no-one seemed to want him for too long.
There was always a reason but he never got to hear it.
Eventually he had ended up back where he had started - where he had first confessed all and bared all his scars - back with Mr Oliveira.
It took a while to get used to calling him Filipe but he had been insistent. Sometimes Quico still slipped up even now.
That reminded him - he needed to call, let him know that he’d settled in.
Quico flinched as a door slammed further down the corridor and he heard the excited chatter of the others on his floor. Someone would come down soon, ask if he wanted to join them for a few drinks in the common room.
Quico wasn’t sure how many more times he could say no before they would just start ignoring him. He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and slipped out the door before anyone had the chance to ask. It was better that way.
It was cold now that night was falling. He zipped up his jacket and wrapped his arms around himself. Lights were on all over campus. It was Friday night and that meant parties. Parties meant alcohol.
Quico was pretty sure they’d understand if he explained but that was never going to happen. Who would want to volunteer the misery of their life to almost strangers? Was he to sit in the common room and cry as he brought up all the neglect, all the pain?
No.
Quico was much better off being thought of as odd and anti-social. That he could deal with for now.
Fandom: Portal
Rating: PG
Word Count: 369
Summary: Chell knows she’s just pretending to be a functional member of society.
When she first got out - into the real world that is - she scared people away. She hadn’t spoken to anyone but that robot, who still haunted her nightmares, for months. Most people gave her a wide berth.
Of course, Chell was adaptable. That’s how she had survived down there, that’s how she had won. Not that robot - no - she had won. So Chell had started going to coffee shops, watching people and forcing herself to relearn how to act like just another human.
Like someone who wasn’t broken.
She still had the nightmares and she still checked all the locks over and over every time she went in or out of her tiny little flat. She had it under control though. For now.
She found a job - a warehouse job where she didn’t need to talk to people. Or at least, not as many people. A lot of the others who chose to work the same night shifts she did were about as silent and damaged as she was. She bought some clothes, bought some makeup, and added that to her costume.
Little by little her mask took place and she could walk down the streets and keep her head held high. She could make that dreaded small talk with the barista at her local coffee shop and smile at the Line Manager every evening when she got into work.
Yes - Chell was adaptable, but it was all a carefully layered pretence. If someone looked too close or pulled out one of the carefully stacked cards of her new and improved persona, then everything would come crashing down again.
So when the guys at work suggested she join them for an after work drink, she always had an excuse. And sure she liked to think that the reason the barista tucked a free cookie alongside her coffee wasn’t just because it was the end of the day and they were going to go to waste. Maybe in an ideal world she’d ask him to go out, for something other than coffee but this world wasn’t ideal, it was the best she had scrounged together from trauma and ruin.
No, no-one needed to know about the Chell behind the mask.
Fandom: The A Word
Rating: PG
Word Count: 339
Summary: Rebecca doesn’t get why everyone else can’t just see Joe for who he is.
Rebecca looked up from her phone to the end of the bed. She smiled to herself as she watched Joe sleep. He must be exhausted. They’d spent all morning out walking with grandad - who still hadn’t figured out that they weren’t all as keen on hiking up and down the hills as him. Then Joe and Rebecca had thrown on one of Joe’s favourite CDs when they got home and danced around the front room.
It had been fun until mum and dad came home.
Mum had this look on her face - this forlorn and sad expression that she always wore when she saw Joe and his music. Dad wasn’t much better because he tried to join in, tried to muscle in on their time together. Joe had withdrawn back into the music, pressing his ear to the speaker and Mum had freaked out about his hearing…
Rebecca had just gone to her room.
She was considering calling Tom, asking if he wanted to go down into town and pretend like there was anything to do other than sit in the cold and not be at home, when the door pushed open and Joe padded in. He clambered up onto her bed and lay down, adjusting his headphones so that they were comfortable. She settled for texting Tom instead, giggling to herself at his bitchy texts about the classmates that had been giving him hassle that week.
She put on her own headphones when she heard her parents arguing again. It would be about Joe.
It was always about Joe.
About how Mum wanted Joe to be something else, someone else, chasing after this glimpse she thought she had seen beneath a mask that didn’t exist. About how Dad thought he was some kind of perfect father, a champion for his autistic son, when actually he fell pretty far short as well. Maybe if they’d both just accept Joe for Joe, they wouldn’t have to keep having these arguments.
Rebecca turned up her music as the voices got louder.
Fandom: Dexter (novels)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 161
Summary: The benefit of being a monster
Being a monster - or at least being a functional monster of use to society - meant wearing a mask. This came with the added benefit of being able to see under the masks of other monsters, especially those less skills than he in fitting theirs to their faces.
It might be a moment in a coffee shop when someone bumped into them and spilt coffee down their freshly laundered suit.
It might be in a restaurant when the food is cold and they’ve already waited for half an hour.
It might be because one of the lab technicians - the blood analyst to be specific - just has something off about him and you’re too big and angry and pumped full of experiences from your special forces days to let that go.
One of the places where Dexter hadn’t expected to see a mask slip out of place was taking little Cody out on his fishing boat.
The world was just full of surprises.
Fandom: X + Y
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 354
Summary: Luke has so many masks he’s forgotten who he’s supposed to be.
It was hard for Luke to stand there and keep his face settled when they all told him how sorry they were that he hadn’t made it through to the Olympiad. He had spent hours practising his response until his chest didn’t burn and his arms didn’t ache and his eyes didn’t fill with tears. So when they said that it was a shame and that they were sorry he just shrugged and carried on like he always had.
He asked the learning mentor in his class, Lloyd, why people kept apologising to him when it had nothing to do with anything they had or hadn’t done - except maybe his math’s teacher - and all to do with the fact he just wasn’t good enough. Lloyd told him it was just something people said to try and make him feel better.
It didn’t make him feel better and he wished people would stop.
At home was no different to school, with his father telling him that there would always be another chance, maybe not at the Olympiad but in another math’s competition. There Luke has to put on a different mask - the one where he pretends to love maths - and he has to sit in his room surrounded by text books and posters from when he was younger and the world needed numbers and order, and try not to scream.
Even walking around town he has to keep his defenses up. If he drifts into his own world, distracted by the way the light catches on the puddles or listening intently to the sound of the river bubbling under the bridge as he walks over it, then he might not notice his fingers start to flicker and his wrists start to twirl. Lloyd tries to tell him that it’s okay; that he’s just a bit different and that’s alright.
But Luke doesn’t want to be different and he doesn’t want to do maths and he doesn’t want to have a different mask for every moment of every day. Except by this point he’s not sure who he’d find beneath if he stripped it all away.
Fandom: Malory Towers/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: 15
Word Count: 2684
Part 8/12
Still catching up reading posts as well so there will likely be delayed comments over the next week too.
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Rating: PG
Word Count: 157
Summary: There’s a room no-one likes to go in, right at the back of the warehouse.
“No no no no”, Myka could hear Pete’s voice and his constant babble from the other side of the warehouse and she stopped with one hand on the handle of the door.
The scuffing of feet sounded as Pete scurried around the corner, nearly sliding into one of the cabinets as he did.
“Don’t...touch that door”, he came to a stop panting and puffing beside Myka, “No-one ever goes in there but Artie”.
“Then why’s it not locked?”, Myka asked.
“Well...because it’s not - you know - dangerous or anything but”, Pete pulled a face and waed vaguely towards the door, took the box from Myka’s hands and put it on the side. Then he wrapped one arm around Myka’s shoulders and steered her away from the door.
“What’s behind there?”, Myka asked, craning her neck to keep looking at the door.
“Death masks”, Pete said, “And they get very chatty when someone new goes in there”.
Fandom: Batman Arkham Series (VG)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 134
Summary: Joker’s preparing for his final serenade.
It was awful really, what Titan did for one’s complexion. Joker’s hands were shaking as he smeared the white make-up - more face-paint really - over the bruises and the sores.
He envied the Bat, at least he had a mask to cover up the hideous side effects of this mutation. It would have been worth it if he had won. Power made up for a multitude of costs after all.
Clayface had done a good job convincing the world he was cured, but that wasn’t a permanent solution. Bats had to be close to finding the cure by now, and Joker needed to be there when he did.
He took care with the lipstick, checked it three times and touched up until he was happy. Dying really wasn’t an excuse not to look one’s best.
Fandom: Papo & Yo
Rating: 15
Word Count: 302
Summary: Quico is getting older but it doesn’t make the scars easier to hide.
College. Quico had never imagined that college was an option for him.
When they had taken his father away, Quico had bounced in and out of foster homes - no-one seemed to want him for too long.
There was always a reason but he never got to hear it.
Eventually he had ended up back where he had started - where he had first confessed all and bared all his scars - back with Mr Oliveira.
It took a while to get used to calling him Filipe but he had been insistent. Sometimes Quico still slipped up even now.
That reminded him - he needed to call, let him know that he’d settled in.
Quico flinched as a door slammed further down the corridor and he heard the excited chatter of the others on his floor. Someone would come down soon, ask if he wanted to join them for a few drinks in the common room.
Quico wasn’t sure how many more times he could say no before they would just start ignoring him. He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and slipped out the door before anyone had the chance to ask. It was better that way.
It was cold now that night was falling. He zipped up his jacket and wrapped his arms around himself. Lights were on all over campus. It was Friday night and that meant parties. Parties meant alcohol.
Quico was pretty sure they’d understand if he explained but that was never going to happen. Who would want to volunteer the misery of their life to almost strangers? Was he to sit in the common room and cry as he brought up all the neglect, all the pain?
No.
Quico was much better off being thought of as odd and anti-social. That he could deal with for now.
Fandom: Portal
Rating: PG
Word Count: 369
Summary: Chell knows she’s just pretending to be a functional member of society.
When she first got out - into the real world that is - she scared people away. She hadn’t spoken to anyone but that robot, who still haunted her nightmares, for months. Most people gave her a wide berth.
Of course, Chell was adaptable. That’s how she had survived down there, that’s how she had won. Not that robot - no - she had won. So Chell had started going to coffee shops, watching people and forcing herself to relearn how to act like just another human.
Like someone who wasn’t broken.
She still had the nightmares and she still checked all the locks over and over every time she went in or out of her tiny little flat. She had it under control though. For now.
She found a job - a warehouse job where she didn’t need to talk to people. Or at least, not as many people. A lot of the others who chose to work the same night shifts she did were about as silent and damaged as she was. She bought some clothes, bought some makeup, and added that to her costume.
Little by little her mask took place and she could walk down the streets and keep her head held high. She could make that dreaded small talk with the barista at her local coffee shop and smile at the Line Manager every evening when she got into work.
Yes - Chell was adaptable, but it was all a carefully layered pretence. If someone looked too close or pulled out one of the carefully stacked cards of her new and improved persona, then everything would come crashing down again.
So when the guys at work suggested she join them for an after work drink, she always had an excuse. And sure she liked to think that the reason the barista tucked a free cookie alongside her coffee wasn’t just because it was the end of the day and they were going to go to waste. Maybe in an ideal world she’d ask him to go out, for something other than coffee but this world wasn’t ideal, it was the best she had scrounged together from trauma and ruin.
No, no-one needed to know about the Chell behind the mask.
Fandom: The A Word
Rating: PG
Word Count: 339
Summary: Rebecca doesn’t get why everyone else can’t just see Joe for who he is.
Rebecca looked up from her phone to the end of the bed. She smiled to herself as she watched Joe sleep. He must be exhausted. They’d spent all morning out walking with grandad - who still hadn’t figured out that they weren’t all as keen on hiking up and down the hills as him. Then Joe and Rebecca had thrown on one of Joe’s favourite CDs when they got home and danced around the front room.
It had been fun until mum and dad came home.
Mum had this look on her face - this forlorn and sad expression that she always wore when she saw Joe and his music. Dad wasn’t much better because he tried to join in, tried to muscle in on their time together. Joe had withdrawn back into the music, pressing his ear to the speaker and Mum had freaked out about his hearing…
Rebecca had just gone to her room.
She was considering calling Tom, asking if he wanted to go down into town and pretend like there was anything to do other than sit in the cold and not be at home, when the door pushed open and Joe padded in. He clambered up onto her bed and lay down, adjusting his headphones so that they were comfortable. She settled for texting Tom instead, giggling to herself at his bitchy texts about the classmates that had been giving him hassle that week.
She put on her own headphones when she heard her parents arguing again. It would be about Joe.
It was always about Joe.
About how Mum wanted Joe to be something else, someone else, chasing after this glimpse she thought she had seen beneath a mask that didn’t exist. About how Dad thought he was some kind of perfect father, a champion for his autistic son, when actually he fell pretty far short as well. Maybe if they’d both just accept Joe for Joe, they wouldn’t have to keep having these arguments.
Rebecca turned up her music as the voices got louder.
Fandom: Dexter (novels)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 161
Summary: The benefit of being a monster
Being a monster - or at least being a functional monster of use to society - meant wearing a mask. This came with the added benefit of being able to see under the masks of other monsters, especially those less skills than he in fitting theirs to their faces.
It might be a moment in a coffee shop when someone bumped into them and spilt coffee down their freshly laundered suit.
It might be in a restaurant when the food is cold and they’ve already waited for half an hour.
It might be because one of the lab technicians - the blood analyst to be specific - just has something off about him and you’re too big and angry and pumped full of experiences from your special forces days to let that go.
One of the places where Dexter hadn’t expected to see a mask slip out of place was taking little Cody out on his fishing boat.
The world was just full of surprises.
Fandom: X + Y
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 354
Summary: Luke has so many masks he’s forgotten who he’s supposed to be.
It was hard for Luke to stand there and keep his face settled when they all told him how sorry they were that he hadn’t made it through to the Olympiad. He had spent hours practising his response until his chest didn’t burn and his arms didn’t ache and his eyes didn’t fill with tears. So when they said that it was a shame and that they were sorry he just shrugged and carried on like he always had.
He asked the learning mentor in his class, Lloyd, why people kept apologising to him when it had nothing to do with anything they had or hadn’t done - except maybe his math’s teacher - and all to do with the fact he just wasn’t good enough. Lloyd told him it was just something people said to try and make him feel better.
It didn’t make him feel better and he wished people would stop.
At home was no different to school, with his father telling him that there would always be another chance, maybe not at the Olympiad but in another math’s competition. There Luke has to put on a different mask - the one where he pretends to love maths - and he has to sit in his room surrounded by text books and posters from when he was younger and the world needed numbers and order, and try not to scream.
Even walking around town he has to keep his defenses up. If he drifts into his own world, distracted by the way the light catches on the puddles or listening intently to the sound of the river bubbling under the bridge as he walks over it, then he might not notice his fingers start to flicker and his wrists start to twirl. Lloyd tries to tell him that it’s okay; that he’s just a bit different and that’s alright.
But Luke doesn’t want to be different and he doesn’t want to do maths and he doesn’t want to have a different mask for every moment of every day. Except by this point he’s not sure who he’d find beneath if he stripped it all away.
Fandom: Malory Towers/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: 15
Word Count: 2684
Part 8/12