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babygustyTitle: A River Runs Through It
Wordcount: 685
Summary: two cosplay contestants, sworn enemies, find they may have things in common after all...
A River Runs Through It
By the second day, Cheryl was to equal parts annoyed and excited. Excited, because she was honestly looking forward to the cosplay contest. She had prepared her costume for months, had handcrafted all the accessories, knitted the knee-length dress, felted her boots, and dyed her hair just the right shade. It was a flawless costume, and she had rehearsed posing to perfection.
Annoyed, because her long time nemesis was going to be there, too. Heather Dibley. Heather had prepared her costume with the same diligence, the same obsession for detail, and the same skill.
For the last two years, Heather and Cheryl had alternately won 1st and 2nd place at all the costume contests, but Cheryl wanted to break the pattern and win 1st twice in a row this time. She had already won last month’s contest (her Predators outfit was unbeatable), and she would win today’s. She deserved it; her costume was spectacular, she was River Tam.
Yet, so was Heather. Due to some karmic coincidence, they had both chosen to cosplay as Firefly’s hottest crew member.
When it was time to step on stage, Cheryl locked eyes with Heather. The game was on. May the better River win.
Cheryl did her routine to great applause, then watched Heather do her thing to equally grand ovations. It was impossible to hear who elicited the more enthusiastic reaction from the audience. It was unnerving. Plus, her unmentionables were slowly riding up her unmentionable and the room was far too hot. She was sweating profusely.
Impatiently, Cheryl waited for the other contestants to have their thirty seconds of limelight. There were always too many of them, most of them okay, some embarrassing, some simply painful, very few almost good.
She caught Heather’s eye—they both seemed to experience the same boredom. Cheryl rolled her eyes at her, and Heather mirrored the expression. For the first time in two years, they almost had a moment of bonding. It lifted Cheryl’s mood to some extent, which was perhaps why she felt so excessively crushed when the winner was announced. Cheryl had the best costume, there was no doubt about it. To not win first place was gut-wrenching. Being second place to Heather’s first would have felt less insulting, if Heather had actually come first place. Which she didn’t. Some, admittedly deadly cute, Sailor Chibi-Moon won, and then the Doctor came second. Cheryl knew the girl who cosplayed as Eight, a total bitch who didn’t deserve the fresh air she breathed in every day.
Cheryl and Heather came third. Together. They had to go to the judges’ table together, accept the little medal together, and share the applause. The humiliation was almost unbearable.
After the contest, Cheryl didn’t make a point of hurrying up, even though the room was already getting prepared for the next panel, a meet and greet with two adorable actors playing members of the dwarf horde in Lord of the Rings. Cheryl wasn’t into dwarves. The excitement, and even the annoyance, from before had evaporated and been replaced by a dull sense of disappointment. She wasn’t the only one. On the other side of the room, Heather holstered her weapons slowly and with a visible lack of zest.
Cheryl nodded at her when their glances met, and Heather nodded back. She looked kind of cute in her outfit. Definitely hot. Cheryl had never thought of Heather as hot before.
It just so happened that they walked to the door at the same time.
Cheryl’s stomach growled. She hadn’t breakfasted for excitement.
“I’m hungry, too,” Heather broke the two year long silence.
Despite herself, Cheryl replied, “I’m headed for the vending machines on the third floor...” leaving the sentence hanging in the air because she didn’t know how to finish it.
“I like the ones on the second floor. They have peanut butter cups.”
Cheryl said, “I like peanut butter cups.”
“Me, too.”
Cheryl looked at the girl who used to be her nemesis. She looked kind of nice, actually. Perhaps they could have some peanut butter cups together for lunch.
Wordcount: 685
Summary: two cosplay contestants, sworn enemies, find they may have things in common after all...
A River Runs Through It
By the second day, Cheryl was to equal parts annoyed and excited. Excited, because she was honestly looking forward to the cosplay contest. She had prepared her costume for months, had handcrafted all the accessories, knitted the knee-length dress, felted her boots, and dyed her hair just the right shade. It was a flawless costume, and she had rehearsed posing to perfection.
Annoyed, because her long time nemesis was going to be there, too. Heather Dibley. Heather had prepared her costume with the same diligence, the same obsession for detail, and the same skill.
For the last two years, Heather and Cheryl had alternately won 1st and 2nd place at all the costume contests, but Cheryl wanted to break the pattern and win 1st twice in a row this time. She had already won last month’s contest (her Predators outfit was unbeatable), and she would win today’s. She deserved it; her costume was spectacular, she was River Tam.
Yet, so was Heather. Due to some karmic coincidence, they had both chosen to cosplay as Firefly’s hottest crew member.
When it was time to step on stage, Cheryl locked eyes with Heather. The game was on. May the better River win.
Cheryl did her routine to great applause, then watched Heather do her thing to equally grand ovations. It was impossible to hear who elicited the more enthusiastic reaction from the audience. It was unnerving. Plus, her unmentionables were slowly riding up her unmentionable and the room was far too hot. She was sweating profusely.
Impatiently, Cheryl waited for the other contestants to have their thirty seconds of limelight. There were always too many of them, most of them okay, some embarrassing, some simply painful, very few almost good.
She caught Heather’s eye—they both seemed to experience the same boredom. Cheryl rolled her eyes at her, and Heather mirrored the expression. For the first time in two years, they almost had a moment of bonding. It lifted Cheryl’s mood to some extent, which was perhaps why she felt so excessively crushed when the winner was announced. Cheryl had the best costume, there was no doubt about it. To not win first place was gut-wrenching. Being second place to Heather’s first would have felt less insulting, if Heather had actually come first place. Which she didn’t. Some, admittedly deadly cute, Sailor Chibi-Moon won, and then the Doctor came second. Cheryl knew the girl who cosplayed as Eight, a total bitch who didn’t deserve the fresh air she breathed in every day.
Cheryl and Heather came third. Together. They had to go to the judges’ table together, accept the little medal together, and share the applause. The humiliation was almost unbearable.
After the contest, Cheryl didn’t make a point of hurrying up, even though the room was already getting prepared for the next panel, a meet and greet with two adorable actors playing members of the dwarf horde in Lord of the Rings. Cheryl wasn’t into dwarves. The excitement, and even the annoyance, from before had evaporated and been replaced by a dull sense of disappointment. She wasn’t the only one. On the other side of the room, Heather holstered her weapons slowly and with a visible lack of zest.
Cheryl nodded at her when their glances met, and Heather nodded back. She looked kind of cute in her outfit. Definitely hot. Cheryl had never thought of Heather as hot before.
It just so happened that they walked to the door at the same time.
Cheryl’s stomach growled. She hadn’t breakfasted for excitement.
“I’m hungry, too,” Heather broke the two year long silence.
Despite herself, Cheryl replied, “I’m headed for the vending machines on the third floor...” leaving the sentence hanging in the air because she didn’t know how to finish it.
“I like the ones on the second floor. They have peanut butter cups.”
Cheryl said, “I like peanut butter cups.”
“Me, too.”
Cheryl looked at the girl who used to be her nemesis. She looked kind of nice, actually. Perhaps they could have some peanut butter cups together for lunch.
