𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐝'𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

𝘌𝘓𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘕

(ONLINE TRANSLATIONS WILL BE MY BEST FRIEND DURING THIS BOOK SO S'IL VOUS PLAÎT, YOU NATIVE FRENCH SPEAKERS, DON'T MURDER ME.)

"OKAY, you're all set Miss l/n."
"Jane, I've told you, y/n is fine." I smiled at my makeup artist before standing up, walking over to a full-length mirror.

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(here are the closest sketches i could find to what i imagined the character to look like- of course, you can imagine whatever you'd like to.)

(^ instead the school uniform would be the MHS uniform-)

(& here's the closest representation i could find of the 'superhero' outfit she'd have. it wouldn't be as emo though, i imagine more color in it representing the elements.)
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The costume fit perfectly on me, tailored to my body professionally.
The CGI mask, that was currently lowered to my neck for easier breathing, for the time being, was supposedly going to look like vines that wrapped around my nose to my chin.
The classic Incredibles-eye mask was also CGI, & it was 'supposed' to look like flames surrounding my eyes in the future edit.

The mainly-red bodysuit hugged nicely to my skin, the material extremely elegant.
From the gloves, to the hood, to even the little markings and etches, it was the best outfit I had ever been in.
I'm going to be honest- it felt empowering.

I felt like a real superhero.

"Wow, y/n, you look incredible." A familiar Brit complimented from behind me.
I turned around, taking him in from head-to-toe in his Spider-Man costume.
Damn, he was fit.

Strangely, the only image that came to mind in this moment was the squinted glee of Timothée's eyes when he laughed, crow's feet and all.
I almost had to shake my head like a cliche movie or book to clear the thought.

"Why, thank you, Holland. You don't look too bad yourself." I grinned, pulling the hood of the costume down, sitting back in the makeup chair to let the hairdresser do his thing.
I couldn't move on without noticing the sudden rosiness in Tom's cheeks.

"They sent me in here to let you know that we're about to start filming the 'war'." He laughed almost shyly as he scratched the back of his neck aimlessly.
"Okay, tell them I said 'thank you'. This'll be the funnest war in history." My comment received a full, genuine laugh out of Tom, causing his shoulders to unclench themselves- relaxing.

"See you out there, Lis De Feu." He smirked before exiting. I couldn't help but cringe at his attempt at French; and that's coming from someone who can't understand a bit of the language.

"Tu es magnifique."
'You look stunning'
Timothée's words rang in my ears hauntingly, as if a ghost.

Why am I thinking about him so much today?
Was it because of him leaving me on read, not responding? Was it because that's the first time he had ever done that to me in the short months I had known him?
Was it because he never hung up without whispering,
"Faites de beaux rêves, mon meilleur ami."
'Sweet dreams, my best friend'

Was it because, in knowing Timothée for the little time I have, we had never gone a full twenty-four hours without speaking?

Please get out of my head, Tim; I need to focus.

"y/n? You're all done." My hairdresser called, now standing in front of me, giving me a pondering look.
"I wasn't hurting you, was I?"
"No, no— of course not. Why do you ask?"

"You look almost green, like you're going to vomit."