trying to feel beautiful

I had a mighty need to color this panel.

I just

I love Liam Kosta so much?????

I don’t even have words for how much? he is a genuinely Good Dude who tries his best

(and kind of fails at it sometimes, but he owns it. and tries to fix it.)

and he is a monumental dork, from that goofy little wave on the Hyperion, to spinning around when the gravity goes, to “did not die!”, to hauling a freaking couch to Andromeda, to the armor scene, to the car, to his facial expression at “change…change of plan?” in his loyalty mission, (to his entire loyalty mission really), to organizing an interspecies soccer/football match, to the heart-shaped jump jets if you romance him

and I just.

He is such a beautiful goof and I love him so much

i love looking at strangers because i really do believe there is something beautiful physically on everyone. every person has a striking feature and i fully believe that embracing the traits that make us unique only makes a person more appealing. i love strong noses, wrinkles, crooked smiles, birth marks, moles, scars, dark brows and everything that makes a person who they are. beauty is so diverse and subjective and thats what i love about it.

3

Decided to stay home and practice make up on my own for the first time. It didn’t turn out as horrible as I thought it would. Yay!

I so desperately need long hair… uuuughh!

Ps: I still hate the fact that I have to shave whenever I wanna feel pretty.

I had a dream last night that I was Megamind

and it was E X C E L L E N T.

It was pre-movie; I was in the middle of an evil plot that was outside the Evil Lair and Roxanne was there (!!!) and tied up, only it was really windy out and she said she hadn’t gotten her hair cut in a while, so it was a little long. 

And it kept blowing in her face, so she finally got annoyed enough with it that she told me to get a pair of bobby pins out of her purse and pin it back for her.

(!!!!!)

aaaaaaahhhhhhh and I brushed her hair back from her face and I ALMOST DIED OF HAPPINESS, LET ME TELL YOU.

Also, it is INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT to pin someone’s hair for them when you have never had hair of your own, so I was S T R U G G L I N G, but Roxanne thought it was funny and she laughed (!!!)

And I finally got her hair pinned out of her face, and she jokingly asked if she looked funny and I was already pretty flustered so I was like “no no; you look really pretty!”

and she raised her eyebrows at me and said I must rate my skills as a hairdresser pretty high and I started babbling about how she always looked pretty and it was EXCRUCIATINGLY EMBARRASSING OH MY EVIL GODS.

But Roxanne seemed to think that was funny, too, which (!!!! ??? !!!!)

And then Metro Man showed up, only I’d been so busy with Roxanne that I hadn’t actually even set up the evil plot, so I decided to pretend that there…wasn’t an evil plot. And we were still technically on the Evil Lair grounds, and Metro Man isn’t supposed to attack there unless there’s an evil plot happening.

But Metro Man was all suspicious, so I was like “no, really, nothing happening here” only he insisted that Roxanne was there, and barged past me to look for her and I was like ‘shit’, but when we got to where she had been tied up, she wasn’t there.

(she must have escaped while I was gone)

So Metro Man left and I was like “well, this day is a bust, might as well take a nap,” so I went to my bedroom and took off my shirt and lay down on the bed and okay, maybe I wasn’t exactly intending on napping, per se, but luckily I didn’t do much more than think about…that…because 

THE CLOSET DOOR OPENED AND

ROXANNE POPPED OUT

And I screamed and launched myself off the bed.

When Roxanne finally stopped laughing at that, she told me she’d gotten lost looking for the exit after she escaped, and had hidden in the closet. 

She also added “now you know how it feels when people break into your house and jump out at you, Megamind.”

I was like “I HAVE NEVER JUMPED OUT OF YOUR BEDROOM CLOSET AT YOU, MISS RITCHI; THAT WAS UNCALLED FOR.”

And she was leaning up against the doorframe of the closet and I was on the floor in front of her, trying to find my shirt so I could put it on, only it was all inside out and I was flustered because Roxanne (!!!) was in my bedroom (!!!) and she was looking at me with this–expression of amused fondness and it was really difficult to try to function with that happening–

She was teasing me about screaming, which she never does, when I woke up.

…and I just realized, typing this out, that she could have easily waited for me to fall asleep before sneaking out to find the exit, but she deliberately came out of the closet while I was still awake, so she must have wanted to–see me–talk to me–interact with me more–

DAMN IT, WHY DID THE DREAM HAVE TO END THERE?!?

Never Easy, But We Try

A/N: This is just a little fic about Maurice and the Prince bonding that I couldn’t get out of my head. Enjoy friends, and happy weekend!

xxx

The trip to Paris is not entirely a smooth one, through patchy forests and muddy, uneven terrain after a heavy rainstorm the night before. Still, from his view, the rain is far preferable to eternal snow. Unexpectedly, the wheels slam against yet another tree root that feels like a brick wall, sending the carriage and its passengers jostling–and nearly sending his stomach flying right out of his throat.

He moves to tighten his hold on the person next to him, who miraculously has managed to stay asleep through their entire morning ride. Belle’s head bobs up and down with the rhythm of the carriage, before falling, her weight nestled once more against the nook of his shoulder. Not that he’s complaining. 

He studies what he can of her serene profile, familiarizing himself yet again with the gentle curve of her jaw, the graceful slope of her forehead with those little valley lines that can only mean she’s deep in thought, even in her dreams. Out of some strange yet familiar, domestic habit, his fingers quickly sweep away that troublesome patch of hair out of her eyes, revealing her appealing little nose. He hadn’t thought noses could be appealing (generally speaking, they’re not the most attractive body part); but honestly, everything about her is alluring to him that he can’t stop himself from reveling in her quaint little nose. Regal–that’s what his fellow nobles at Versailles would call it. She has a regal nose.

As if judgement of a person’s station were solely dependent on outward appearance.

He swallows, feeling a knot tighten within his chest. 

There was a time when his view of the world comprised exactly that notion.

“Well,” Maurice huffs from the seat across from him, graciously pulling him from his thoughts, as the carriage settles back into a somewhat easy ebb and flow. “I haven’t had quite this much fun on a long journey since the night I stumbled upon your castle in the woods.”

“What are rocks compared to ravenous wolves?” he quips, before he can stop himself. He almost winces at his tone. Oh, he’s in fine form already. If he can’t even go half-a-day’s journey without uttering some derisive remark, how does he expect to resume the social graces required of him in Paris? All this time closed off from the outside world may have merely distorted his coarse behavior. 

But Maurice chuckles heartily, seemingly oblivious to his impropriety. “Just so.”

When he finally manages to tear his gaze away from Belle, he notices the calm, mischievous twinkle in his father-in-law’s eyes; and it’s a familiar, knowing look, one that tells him Maurice knows exactly what he’s said but doesn’t seem to mind–it’s a look that Belle seems to have inherited and perfected as a means of disarming him as well.

He clears his throat, trying to recover his manners. He’s unsure why he still feels the need to act so formally around Maurice. Perhaps it has something to do with feeling both like a host and a child in his company. “I’m glad you could join us, Maurice.”

Maurice smiles kindly. “Thank you for inviting me along. I haven’t been to Paris since…” His smile fades, and the carriage falls into solemn silence for a moment.

He clears his throat again, unexpectedly even more unsure than before. “I’m sorry. Belle told me…well, that is…”

“Oh, I know about your little magical excursion.” 

As Maurice raises a single, paternal eyebrow, he shuffles in his seat nervously. “Ah. Of course.”

They’re silent for a bit once more, until he remembers where his thoughts had been leading him. “I am…truly sorry. I can’t imagine leaving…the woman you love…” He glances back at Belle, suddenly overwhelmed at even the idea of having to leave her behind, to save a child that doesn’t exist yet. What an impossible choice.

Belle also seems to have inherited from her father the ability to read his thoughts so easily. “It was the hardest decision I have ever had to make,” says Maurice. And when he glances back up at the older man, Maurice’s gaze is fixed upon his daughter, his eyes a bit greyer, carrying some secret horror he cannot name. “But I…I couldn’t leave my baby girl to die. She came first. She always has.”

He has no idea what to say to that, except his heart positively rings with the truth of his father-in-law’s words.

“And besides, if I’d stayed, who knows…I might have ended up alone.”

He understands what that’s like. Had Maurice made a different, easier choice…who knows where any of them would be. Belle’s life has touched so many others. Perhaps it’s a selfish perspective, but he feels that her very presence has changed him the most. And he can’t imagine…a world without Belle seems unlovable and unlivable. His kingdom for a choice, the choice of a simple yet honorable artist. And he wonders, not for the first time, if perhaps he misjudged his own father for depriving him of the chance to say goodbye to his mother. Maybe his father was protecting him more than he realized. Maybe that seeming act of cowardice was really the one good thing his father ever did with his life. 

“Someday…when you have children, you will understand.”

He nods, though he’s not sure what he’s agreeing to. All he knows is he’s grateful in ways he doesn’t even know how to put into words. That ridiculously expensive education, and all he can come up with is, “Thank you, Maurice.”

Maurice frowns, and the man looks so much like Belle that he can’t help but smile a little. “Whatever for, my boy?”

He swallows. My boy. His remembers his own father calling him many things throughout his life, but never that. For being a good person. For being the father figure I never had.

Yet he simply settles for, “For saving her life.” And saving mine. “For welcoming me into your family after…” After everything I put you through. 

He sighs, the guilt of years past creeping up on him again. “I’m sorry,” he finally utters quietly.

Maurice frowns again, and he realizes with a start that he doesn’t see it. Maurice may be a wise father, but in many ways the man still carries the sweet innocence of a child. And once again, he finds himself involuntarily dreading introducing Belle and her father to the aristocracy he’s socially bound to reenter. He knows what they’ll think of their marriage, what they’ll think of Maurice. If Belle thought one small village could hold so much prejudice… It seems wrong, somehow, to bring Maurice back to a place filled with so much hypocrisy. He feels he’s finally beginning to understand why Belle has been so protective of him all her life. 

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you when we first met. I was a fool and…a great deal many other vulgar, unmentionable qualities.” Qualities they’re all going to have to experience again tenfold.

Maurice smiles, ever the patient soul. “You know, one day, you’re going to have to stop apologizing. It’s all been forgiven, my boy. It’s in the past. Besides, you’ve more than made it up to me by making my little girl so happy. Just treat her with all the goodness she deserves–as I know you will–and we’ll call it even.”

He’s reminded yet again, as he so often is, that Maurice is truly one of the best men he’s ever known. It’s obvious now why Belle grew into such a lovely person, with such a gracious figure to guide her and care for her. Maurice may not be gentry, but he possesses the natural generosity of a saint. Versailles doesn’t deserve him. 

And neither does he, he thinks.

“You deserve all the happiness in the world,” says Maurice. 

He starts. For a dreadful moment, he wonders if he’s uttered his thoughts aloud. Or perhaps it’s that mind-reading trick only Belle and Maurice seem to possess. Or it’s possible that it’s merely his own thoughts that have become so open, like a book to be read by the world. Stripped of his mountains of fur and devilish horns with claws to match, he no longer has a disguise to conceal himself beneath. And he’s severely out of practice hiding his feelings.

Still, he knows when to accept kindness offered at face value. 

The men share a smile, until Belle suddenly stirs, lifting her head from her slumber. Immediately, his eyes find hers as she wakes. 

“Oh, forgive me.” She sits up quickly.

He smiles, sweeping a bit of hair out of her face once more. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he answers quietly, just for her, Maurice partly forgotten for a moment. He knows how much she needed rest. She was up all evening before their departure, reorganizing the luggage system, while trying to manage the school accounts for Pierre Robert. 

Her eyes go wide as she glances out the window. “The country!” she cries. “Oh, I’d hoped we’d be near the city by now.”

“It is a long journey.” He tries to soothe her by running his hand across her back, and she does him the decency of at least pretending to be comforted, leaning back into his embrace with ease.

“One that you insisted that we drive for whatever reason.” She shoots him the look.

“Well, it did give us a chance to talk,” Maurice chimes in.

“I see. And what exactly have you two been discussing while I’ve been asleep?” She glances between the two of them, before settling on her father across the aisle. “Nothing embarrassing, I hope, Papa?” 

He has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at her tone.

Maurice settles back into his seat with feigned innocence. “Me? Embarrass my daughter? I think not.”

Belle narrows her eyes before glancing back at him. “You would tell me if he said anything, wouldn’t you?”

He can’t help but tease her. “I believe in our vows we promised that we’d never lie to each other.”

She smacks his shoulder once. 

“Ow.”

“You are as bad as he is,” she remarks, wearing a firm frown, but he can spot the easy humor in her eyes that give her away.

“Thank you. I take that as a compliment.”

Something Missing (something strange) - Gaston/OC

Okay, so this is my first foray into Beauty and the Beast fics. I blame the 2017 movie (though I’ve been obsessed with the original movie since I first saw it as a child). I ended up writing the ending to this before the beginning and it turned out far longer than I had expected. It’s pretty rough right now but seeing as I’m leaving tomorrow for vacation, I wanted to give you something. (Also I could not get this out of my head). Let me know what you think (and if you find any errors both grammatically and characterization wise). 

Title: Something Missing (something strange)
Pairing: Gaston/OC
Fandom: Beauty and the Beast 
Rating: PG
Warnings: None really. Some misogyny because it’s Gaston.
Summary: Elise has finally returned to the village of her childhood. Things are not quite as she left them.

Keep reading

Okay (Jason ToddxReader)

Requested: No
Word Count: 959
Summary: Jason comes in from a rough night of patrol for you to clean him up.

Warning! Blood and gore mentioned!

The sound of a falling chair snapped you out of you light sleep. You glanced at the digital clock on your nightstand, it was 4am. You relaxed slightly as you realized Jason hadn’t come home yet, but you were still on alert as you crawled out of bed and slipped your favorite silk robe onto your shoulders. While normally, you wore at least one of Jason’s t-shirts to bed, this night it was hot and you wore only your underwear beneath the robe. You armed yourself with the baseball bat you kept by your nightstand and made your way into the kitchen area.

Jay?” you called out softly as you left the bedroom.

“Hey, baby girl, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he spoke up. His voice was thick with pain. You frowned and switched on the light. Sitting in the floor in a puddle of blood was one Jason Todd. You gasped and let your eyes search him over. You grabbed the closest first aide kit of the seven you had stashed around the apartment. You dropped to your knees next to hi.

“I’m ok, doll, go back to sleep,” he slurred. You simply shook your head and pulled his helmet from his head. His face was as perfect as ever, however there was a small cut that bled from his bottom lip. You made a mental note to come back and clean it up, but moved on to locate his more severe injuries.

You peeled off his brown leather jacket and found a bullet wound in his right shoulder. Upon further inspection, you found another would in his left thigh. You cursed softly to yourself as you began cutting away the fabric of his uniform.

I’m okay,” he repeated for the millionth time. You chose to just ignore his new chant and found the exit wounds on both shots. You sighed in relief because, while you had more stitching to do, you didn’t have to dig out any bullets. You began stitching him with practiced expertise. You placed a bandage over each wound once it was cleaned and sutured.

“I’m okay,” he chanted as his head leaned against the floor.

Stop telling me you’re okay, Jason,” you finally snapped at him. “You’re bleeding out on our kitchen floor,” you bit back angrily. You took a calming breath before going back to work. You could feel his eyes trying to focus on you.

You’re so beautiful,” he grinned goofily. You narrowed your eyes at him but continued to patch his remaining minor injuries. Once you were satisfied with your work, you managed to pull the now half naked man into the bathroom. You fully removed the remaining scraps of his clothing and began to gently clean the blood and dirt from his skin. He hummed softly in his blood-loss haze as your fingers spread through his hair.

“I love you, sunshine,” he mumbled in his half conscious state. You sighed as you gave him another look over. He was completely nude and covered in more scars than she ever cared to count. He had bandaged scattered across his body and fresh bruises along with faded yellow ones.

“I love you, too, Jay,” you admitted. It was the truth, you were an utter fool for the man in front of you. Once you deemed him clean enough, you helped him pull on fresh boxers and helped him into their shared bed.

Stay with me,” he requested weakly, he was beyond exhausted at this point.

Until forever ends, Jay,” you answered as you sat by his side. You brushed your fingers through his dark messy hair with it’s single white streak. You hummed softly as you did everything you knew to soothe Jason to sleep.

Once he was out soundly, you stood and kissed his forehead gently. You made your way back to your dining room area and frowned. It was a complete disaster area. It was the worst state you’d see it in, but you would once again be scrubbing blood from the tile grout.

You started with the first aid kit. You packed the kit, making sure everything was organized the way it was before. As soon as it was neat, you put it back in it’s place in the kitchen. You threw out the empty packages and soiled gauzes. You turned on the tap and started filling the mop bucket with hot, soapy water. You grabbed a fresh sponge and settled on your knees with the mess before you.

You scrubbed for a total of three hours until the dining room was entirely spotless and disinfected. It was when you were putting away the cleaning supplies that you realized you had fresh blood stains on your favorite silk robe and all over your exposed skin. You made your way to the bathroom, exhaustion from the adrenaline wearing off setting in. There were blood stains here and there in the bathroom. You cleaned them up quickly before starting the shower.

You watched as the blood ran off of your body and down the drain. It was becoming a common sight in your life and it almost bothered you that it didn’t bother you anymore. It was always so much blood. You couldn’t help but consider for a brief moment if this was really what you wanted for your life. You wondered what your life would have become if Jason had never made his place in it. You shook your head vigorously, water pouring over your face.

You loved Jason. No amount of blood or bullet wounds would change the fact that he was everything you wanted. He was worth the blood stained robes and the bright red that washed down the drain. He would always be worth it.