My favorite shade from @inglotsingapore’s new HD Lip Tint Matte has got to be #18, the deep dark bittersweet-chocolate brown.

Also worn:
#MAC Pro Longwear Shadow Stick in Bitter Clove
#INGLOT’s new AMC Pure Pigment Eye Shadows in 22 a bronze-taupe, and 118 a pale gold
#Benefit Rollerlash Mascara
#Tarte Amazonian Clay Blush in Classic
#LANEIGE BB Cushion Pore Control 021
#Albion Elegance La Poudre Haute Nuance Face Powder I - this gorgeous multicolored powder is Albion’s alternative to Guerlain Meteorites

#makeup #weekend #fotd #darklips #brownlips #chocolate #bittersweet

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A little drabble inspired by @infinite-atmosphere‘s cute wittle mcHanzo comic. I hope this is adequate..

His voice is roughened with age and cigar smoke. His grin has lost its exuberant and carefree shine, more crooked and absent-minded, as if an after thought, an old habit that never quite fades. More metal than skin shows and the crinkles around his eyes are heavy with unspoken burdens. 

Hanzo supposes he is the one being childish this time, wanting to reach out and tug at that fluttering serape, to demand if McCree still remembers him. Alas, it is not to be.

He finds himself distracted sometimes, watching the cowman strides around confidently in his ridiculous getup, greeting anyone and everyone, even the enemies, with that crooked smile of his. It gives Hanzo this twinge in his heart, a pulling that is both melancholic and stings a little.

Neither of them owes the other anything, it is foolish of him for having such thoughts. His chances have long passed, it is unreasonable to want them, to want McCree back again.

But then, Hanzo can’t help the tiny jolts whenever McCree tips his hat at him, at every wayward smile, a friendly bump on the shoulder. They are all too little, and yet too much. He finds himself thinking too hard at night, when the world is quite and his only companion is his perfect memory. It is both a blessing and a curse, because then the mind would let him see what reality does not.

They both have changed, but that fleeting feeling of longing, gentle like a fallen petal yet constricts his guarded heart too tightly, refuses to go away.

“Somethin’ on yer mind?”

His reverie is shattered, not violent like broken glass, but soft as dry leaves crunching under one’s steps in the autumn sun, at the feeling of metal finger brushing his cheek. Hanzo shrugs it off, face betrays no emotion even when his pulse quickens.

“The moon is beautiful tonight.”

There is a pressure on his chest, a coiling at the very pit of his stomach when broad shoulder meets his, arms aligning with each other. The back of McCree’s metal hand brushes his own and, somewhere, a knot eases when the gentle wind carries the familiar scent of gunpowder and cigar, enveloping him in a warmth that isn’t his own. Brown eyes fall upon his, and the smile, crooked with just a hint of something else, melts away the grasp around his guarded heart.

“Aye, it is.”

So a family friend came over who is Catholic. They found out I’m gay and they’re okayish with it I think. But anyway my mum said he started a sentence with “no offence” and she just freaked out and was getting ready to defend my honour and he was just like “your guttering is awful I’m going to come over some day and clean it” and like idk that just makes me feel really warm inside thinking of my mother getting ready to go into defendmygaychildTM mode.