bitter shitposts

She limped out from behind the bead curtains — squeaky clean, wearing a cute white dress under her filthy jacket, paired with heavy black boots. Not exactly the best choice for snowfall.
A true fashion catastrophe.
But Dante couldn’t hold back a fond smile.
With her hair curling like that after a good shower, smiling in that ridiculous outfit, she looked damn cute.
Younger than she usually did.
Her age… he didn’t even remember asking about it.
“What do you think?”
She spun on her good leg, a little unsteady, catching herself at the last second. The loose skirt fluttered, flashing her legs before settling back into place.
“Don’t say anything. I know.” She pressed a hand to her chest, her confidence exaggerated enough to make the sarcasm obvious. “Stunning.”

Вивиан задумывалась с другой прической. Тогда ещё у меня не было четкого видения и мозгов, но была ИДЕЯ.

Спустя год-два я села за референс и поняла, что такое короткое каре не собрать на затылке. 😳

He watched Vivian step out of the car and glide past him, heels clicking against the marble steps of the museum. Brown hair pinned in low twist, an elegant velvet dress draped over her frame. Her every movement was smooth, almost catlike. Nothing like the soldier he was used to.
He caught himself calculating how many hairpins and cans of spray had gone into that masterpiece. At this point, she looked almost… unrecognizable.
I like Dante better.
Well, that made two of them. He liked her usual self better than this dolled up version of her.