Never quite figured out who owns the Buffyverse, but I know for a fact that it's not me. Nor do I have any clue who owns any Marvel character not created by Stan Lee. Not mine all around, savvy?Joe's Note:
amusewithaview made that Cordelia YAHF challenge, and so I decided to write this up to keep her occupied until I can revamp and then update Into the Darkness
. Enjoy, dear.
Wig. Wig. She was late and she needed a wig, or else her entire costume was going to fail like Xander at… well, anything he attempted. Cordelia Chase's eyes flicked back and forth as they adjusted from the bright California sunlight to the lower lighting of Ethan's. Party Town had been a complete bust, Party Warehouse only had wigs that belonged on really bad drag queens, and she was running out of time. Wigs. Wigs. What kind of costume store didn't have any wigs? Wait! There!
Cordelia scooted between two rows of costumes and made a beeline for the back corner of the shop. Black, blonde, red, brown, straight, curly, wavy… not helping at all. Finally, her eyes lit upon one particular wig and she smiled widely. It was perfect!
"Can I help you, miss?" Gahh! Sneaky British person! Cordelia let out a shriek as she whirled around to find an older, well-dressed gentleman standing behind her. While he sounded a bit like Giles, he was definitely a better dresser than the librarian, without a square inch of tweed in sight. He also struck her as a bit more… human… than Giles. Less uptight. Then again, that could be because he'd actually sought her out instead of standing waiting in one place for people to come to him. "I must warn you, that these wigs are made of real human hair and can be quite pricey."
Checking the price tag on the wig that had caught her eye, Cordelia's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Wow. From Party Warehouse's junk wig to this gorgeous one meant a price jump of $8.99 to $899. But still, it was the perfect color and in just the right style too. And it wasn't like she hadn't already blown an obscene amount of money on a costume she definitely wouldn't wear more than once (because really, how tacky was that?), so why not? "Not that pricey. I'll take it."
The gentleman nodded and pulled the entire mannequin head off the wall. "Very well. If you'll follow me, we'll get you rung up and out the door in no time." Cordelia followed obediently behind him, half her attention on him and the rest on the store's other customers, curious if any of her friends had found their way to what was undoubtedly the classiest costume shop in Sunnydale. Eww, Buffy and Willow were there. Maybe she should change her mind. After all, if Buffy and Willow… and Xander, double eww, were shopping there, how fashionable a place could this be? But it WAS the perfect wig. "I take it you already have a costume, given the way you went straight for my wigs?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I just didn't want to order a wig from somewhere other than a real store, because stuff always looks different in person." Cordelia let out a little wince as the final total came up on the cash register before reaching into her purse and pulling out the credit card her parents had given her. Adding 7.75% sales tax didn't sound that high until you calculated 7.75% of $900. Come to think of it, she didn't get a seat in Congress. That was taxation without representation, wasn't it? She should rebel! Viva la revolution!
Right after she paid for the wig, though. The British guy was starting to give her weird looks.
Running her fingers through her short hair, Cordelia sighed. Boy was she going to be getting weird looks tomorrow. But there was no way she could have hidden all her long, dark hair under her white wig without looking like one of those trashy half-done dye jobs. And it was a bit of karma. She was wearing a wig of human hair, and now someone else would get to wear her hair. Not to mention she'd gotten a free haircut out of it because she'd donated the hair to Locks For Love, so it was good for her purse too. Everybody won!
Or at least that's what she'd thought until after it was already done and she'd told her stylist why she had called them up for an emergency haircut. Maria had tried not to laugh directly in her best tipping customer's face as she explained that yes, there was a way to hide lots of hair under a shorter wig and it wasn't that hard. Wig cap, anyone? After all, actresses regularly had to change their hair rapidly on TV shows… soap operas where you played your own evil twin and stuff like that. Which had made Cordelia feel really stupid and seriously regret deciding to go with 'I need a new look' instead of the truth.
Because now she had dyke spikes. Using both hands, Cordelia worked the gel into her hair and then slicked it down flat. She'd never worn a real wig before and didn't exactly know who to call to ask for help, but it didn't seem like rocket science. Flatten her hair down because wigs generally went on bald people (wig caps hadn't even occurred to her and she was too embarrassed to go buy one now), slide the wig on, comb and arrange as necessary. Simple.
Cordelia turned to grab the wig on the counter, still resting on the mannequin head it'd come on, when something occurred to her. The strap for her mask probably should go under the wig to hide it. And contacts had to go in, which she probably should do before putting a mask on. Grabbing the white clamshell case instead, Cordelia opened it and delicately removed one of the green lenses inside. Tilting her head back, she managed to work it into place with only minimal eyeball-poking pain. The second one went a bit smoother. She'd actually paid for a domino mask sculpted perfectly to fit her face, so getting the black mask on and settled was no trouble at all.
The wig didn't prove to be any more troublesome than her mask, although getting the strands to lay right was a bit of a trial. Finally, Cordelia gave up. The look was very close to what she wanted and Felicia had a windblown look to her in most of the pictures Cordelia had seen, so did it really matter?
Turning off the bathroom lights, Cordelia passed back into her room and let her bathrobe slide off her body and onto the floor. The catsuit was another perfectly measured and hand sewn item that had put a major dent in her parents' wallet, and Cordelia prayed she hadn't accidentally put on or lost any significant amount of weight since she'd been in for her final fitting two weeks ago. It HAD fit like a dream; hopefully that would still be the case. The black PVC garment lay on her bed and she admired it for a moment before picking it up. Time to get dressed, or she was going to be late.
Her panties came off and then Cordelia sat on the edge of the bed, gingerly sliding one leg into the catsuit and then the other. The soles of the feet were tougher than the rest of the outfit, and she knew from her test fitting that it was even well enough padded to make a walk on the graveled path to her koi pond a painless experience. Pulling the catsuit up over her hips, she rose and wiggled a bit to get comfortable before moving on. Each arm had a nearly invisible zipper along the outside so that her fist could fit through without stretching the forearms out, which actually made the top half easier to put on than the bottom half. Cordelia brought one hand up to her face and stared at the long, wicked-looking black claws on her fingertips. Oh, Dominique had done exquisite work.
Twisting her body back and forth, Cordelia admired the bits of white fur that adorned her forearms and calves. Well, it looked a bit too long to be fur… but it was white, had a hair-like texture, and so fur was probably the best term. Then a gust of cooler air came in through the open window and brushed over her nipples, and Cordelia blushed. Oh. Yeah. She hadn't finished dressing yet. Thank God she lived on the second floor in a house set on a large plot of land, or she'd totally have given her neighbors a free show.
Cordelia reached down to her waist and found the silver slider, tugging it up slowly. Finally she reached the top, a spot just below her sternum, and looked down. During the design and construction of her costume, Cordelia had been forced to admit that while her breasts were a bit larger than the average girl's, she (and most women alive) paled in comparison to Felicia Hardy in that department. So, after a bit of debate and a battle of ego versus the desire for authenticity, she'd asked Dominique to add some very carefully shaped padding to the catsuit, carefully pushing her own breasts into just the right shape to present the necessary visible skin while bring her closer to the character's body shape. Gazing down at 'her' cleavage, Cordelia grinned. She looked damn good like this. Maybe she could get Dominique to design some bras and tops for everyday use…
From there, it took only minutes to finish putting her costume on. There was a black collar with silver studs that went around her neck, a bit tighter than anything she was used to but not that uncomfortable, and a grey belt with a half-dozen pouches spaced around it. Alas, she didn't actually own any cool superhero toys like the Black Cat did, but they made for an easy, purse-free way to keep essentials like money, lipstick, and a compact with her. Oh, right, lipstick. Reaching into one pouch, Cordelia pulled out a tube of black lipstick and applied some. There. Now she was done.
Slinking over to the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door, Cordelia grinned as she ran her hands up and down her sides. "Purrrrfect."
Okay, that was the worst pun she'd ever made.
Not punny at all.
…okay, now THAT was the worst pun ever.