#masquerading

[treasuresfromthearchives]

Masquerading

Thomas Rowlandson British August 30, 1811

[youngcreatorfanbear]

[artschoolglasses]

Masquerading, Thomas Rowlandson, 1811

From the Met Museum

[kalamitykam]

i’ve been away from tumblr for so long here have the video i forgot to post here as a treat

[lost-sunset-canine]

Winter Voidpet Challenge 8 - Candy cane A greed stage 5 masquerading as a candy cane to steal ur money :p  “totally real candycane!” “not stealing vm” (vm = currency)  -Dairiem

[euesworld]

"Darling, I'm the softest daydream masquerading as honey.. so sweet, with you by my side I feel that I can do anything in this world.."

Hymns to the one and only girl for me - eUë

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

dylan halloween imagine??? 🥺👻🎃

Hey there, anon!

Sure! This sounds kinda fun :) I wrote this up pretty quickly, so apologies for the boring plot and clichés ;)

- Trashy

Masquerading

You never thought you'd catch yourself dead at one of these ridiculous things. You'd always felt like they were pretentious as hell. Where was the imagination? Especially on Halloween. But you played along. You usually do. It's just easier that way. You could find a quiet corner to sit in, somewhere to hide and spend the evening escaping on the internet somewhere.

You'd thrown on the simplest dress you had, something that wouldn't really draw any attention. It was black, like the mask you wore. The mask you actually liked, but only because it did help you feel a little more comfortable in a room full of strangers.

Sitting quietly on a wide window sill in the back of the room, sipping on a weak-ass vodka-lime you'd definitely overpaid for, you were startled when someone actually spoke to you.

"Hey."

You looked up to see a man standing in front of you looking as though he felt just as out of place as you did. His costume wasn't quite in keeping with the theme either. He was wearing his suit sloppily, his tie was long forgotten--if he'd even been wearing one to start with--and his shirt was unbuttoned enough that you could see a skiff of his chest hair. His mask covered more of his face than most. It was mostly white, but there were flecks of blue and orange paint splattered on it.

"Hey," you replied.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to the empty half of the window sill next to you with the drink in his hand.

You slid back enough to make it a little less cramped. "Be my guest," you smiled.

"Sorry if I'm intruding," he sat down, resting his back against the window frame, "everyone in there is just exhausting."

You followed his eye line through the doorway into the ballroom where people were dancing and laughing.

"Not one for parties?"

"No, no..." He took a sip of his drink and you couldn't help but watch the way a few drops of it clung to his lips. He had a pretty mouth, curved lips, and a sweet cupid's bow. "Parties I like, it's just...it's Halloween."

You smiled at the disappointment you heard in his tone. It mirrored your own.

"Where's the fun in a stilted suit and a generic mask?" he asked, deflating a bit.

"What would you rather be?" you asked, putting your phone in your purse to give him your undivided attention.

He didn't speak right away, but eventually answered. "Anything?"

You smiled, looking down at the drink in your hand as you swirled it. "That's a good answer," you said before you looked up to meet his gaze.

"And what about you?" He set his drink down on the sill and folded his hands together. "What would you be?"

"Hmm..." you considered his question, running through your memories of your favorite costumes from years past. "I'm not sure. Would you have talked to me tonight if I was sitting here looking like the corpse bride?"

He laughed, lifting his drink to his lip for another sip. "Oh...hours ago," he joked.

You cleared your throat. "Undead fetish. Noted."

He chuckled and you were sure he moved a bit closer. "This look," he said pointing to you with the finger wrapped partially around his glass, "is also good."

"Oh?" you asked, looking down at your dress.

"Mhm," he assured, swallowing down the last of his drink.

"I like your mask."

"It's a bit of an homage," he said, pointing to it.

You tipped your head to the side, narrowing your eyes as you looked at the splattering of paint that surrounded his brown eyes. Blue and orange. "Mets?"

"Oh my God," he said softly. "Yes! You're a Mets fan?"

"Eh. I dabble."

He scoffed. "No one 'dabbles' with the Mets."

You blushed at the sort of bewildered expression he seems to be wearing, though half-hidden behind the mask, it was hard to tell. You could tell he was handsome, not even a mask could hide that, but you wished you could see more of this intriguing stranger. You wished the two of you could have met just about anywhere else.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's nothing, I just..." you reached up behind your head and untied the black ribbon that held your mask in place.

His eyes were trained on yours as you removed the lacy mask that had been hiding your face.

"Hey."

He smiled at you, and his hands only hesitated a moment before he reached up to remove his own. When he slid it down over his face, you couldn't help the little gasp that escaped your lips. You'd been talking to Dylan O'Brien.

"Hey."