dsmp songshots

blame it

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗/ 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:
[alcohol, nsfw, mentions rape and bad sex etiquette, implied/ referenced sexual abuse, cheating]

𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖎𝖓𝖌:
blame it - jamie foxx
⇆ㅤ ||◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷||ㅤ ↻

♩✧･ﾟ♬✧･ﾟ♪: *✧♩･ﾟ:*

the brunette sits in the car, staring at himself in the sunblock mirror and contemplating every decision that led him to this point in his life.

he had worn makeup in front of his friends more than once, and it was becoming an increasingly expected phenomenon ever since he started accepting his sexuality more and becoming comfortable with the person he actually was.

despite this, his friends had never seen him wearing makeup whilst drunk, and karl can't help but worry over the fact that their genuine opinions will come out now that their filters are broken down with alcohol. because of that, he'd spent especially long trying to make sure he looked perfect so that no one would make an offhand remark, but ultimately it has just made him late, and now the brunette was incredibly anxious to actually walk in under the fear that all the attention will be on him.

realistically, karl knows that that isn't likely, because everyone will already be drunk, and the house will be bustling with too many people to name, and the likelihood of anyone even batting him an eyelid is incredibly low.

still, being rational is not helping to suppress his fear.

he makes eye contact with himself in the mirror, squinting ever so slightly at his reaction. it isn't even like he's wearing all that much makeup! he's got concealer and blusher on, plus some translucent powder to keep it set and matte, then some clear lip gloss and mascara. really, the wow factor was his eyeliner, which is still only casual wings, but even so that's more than he's used to.

he gets up close to his reflection, wondering for the hundredth time that night if the wings are uneven, or if he's just imagining it because of his incessant overthinking.

karl decides the best way to solve this problem is to just say fuck it and yolo. so, with that thought in mind, he gets out of his car, shutting and locking it before walking his way back down the road towards punz's place.

since he was late, there were no free parking spaces actually near the frat house, so it was a little more of a distance to walk, but he didn't mind as it simply gave him more time to compose himself and act natural.

the best part about the transition from high school to college was how little people actually care now. in high school, he would've been beaten up for wearing makeup. now, no one will give a shit- or, at least, they're less likely to care.

people may judge him, or make a rude comment or two, but his future educational life isn't going to be ruined because of it.

plus, he's found a group of generally accepting people, so he knows they will stick up for him if anyone does have a problem with how he is presenting himself.

karl looks down at his outfit as he walks. the wind feels cool through the rips in his jeans, and he distantly wishes that he'd worn a warmer sweater, since the woven one he has on it not doing much to protect him from the cold night air.