Work Text:
“I need you to do my makeup this time, when I do it it’s a mess.”
Flashy came to Poppy just an hour and a half before their latest performance with the Carervan. They had stationed the Dome of Dreams just on the outskirts of the Gladlands in an attempt to persuade a new group of marauders to join the Gladlands and help the kindness the land brought grow. Hugi, Connor, Tess, and Breaker were a few miles away negotiating with a well-known marauder group to ensure more people as audience members to their show while the rest of the group spent the time getting ready to perform.
The Carervan was being used as an area for hair and makeup, a space that was only really being occupied by Poppy, Flashy, and Quinn/The Spinch at the moment as they were really the only ones who needed to get into hair and makeup.
Poppy was putting on her lashes when Flashy came up to her. She blinked them in place, then sent Flashy a beaming smile.
“I would be honored, Flashy.” Poppy gets close to Flashy’s face, inspecting the work that has already been done to it. “You have a solid vision, but it really does need some work.”
Flashy nods, just slightly so as to not disturb Poppy’s process. “I know. It’s terrible.”
“No no no. Not terrible.” Poppy pushes back, putting her hands on her hips. “No art you create is terrible. It just needs more… definition. It’s already so perfect and so you, it just needs help popping.”
“I suppose you’re the expert.”
“Mhm.” Poppy’s eyes scan up and down Flashy’s form, and Flashy can’t help but feel the heat that rises to her cheeks. Otherwise her face doesn’t change, but the flusteredness in her voice is clockable.
“What are you doing?”
“Your outfit. Again, I love it and I see what you were going for, but it’s a bit understated. There’s just not enough going on.”
Flashy takes a breath and shrugs. “I was going for a mostly monochromatic look.”
“Honey, you can be monochromatic and not boring. You cannot be called Flashy and not look flashy.”
“I suppose that’s true…” Flashy holds her forearm with her hand and crosses one of her legs in front of the others.
“Darling, no.” Poppy put her hands on Flashy’s shoulder, one slowly rubbing the area up and down. “I don’t mean to make you feel self-conscious. You shouldn’t be. You’re probably one of the coolest people I know.” She takes this moment to look at her darling Flashy in her glasses-less eyes, then steals a quick peck on her lips. “I just want to give you the makeover that you deserve. Do you want that, Flashy?”
In this moment, there wasn’t a doubt in Flashy’s mind.
“I do.”
Before she knew it, Flashy was being whisked to what had recently been identified as a salon chair from the Before Times that Poppy had salvaged for her use on the Carervan. Poppy’s hands go to the new drag queen’s hair, fluffing it up a bit.
“This hair is gorgeous and perfect for you. Maybe we can mess around with some different wigs in the future. But now…”
The next thing she knew, Poppy was kneeled in front of her applying powdery products to her face.
“Have you gotten your tetanus shot recently? The rust on this metal would be a perfect shade for your rouge.”
Flashy nodded.
The sewing kit that was kept in a cookie tin burst open minutes minutes later, scraps colored black and silver flitting about as Poppy tirelessly sewed them together.
“Do you know your measurements? I can do them for you if you don’t.”
As Poppy wrapped some measuring tape around her body in a way that Flashy didn’t quite understand, she scribbled down some numbers.
“Perfect.”
Soon they were off the van, Poppy rummaging through some nearby scrap heaps while Flashy was explicitly tasked with standing there and looking pretty. She was doing a pretty good job at that.
“I think some barbed wire would tie this all together. Maybe around your shoulders?”
Poppy popped her head out from the heap, barbed wire in hand. Flashy took a few steps forward and admired the loot. It was very, for lack of a better word, Flashy. Shiny and out there and nothing like what she would have been wearing in the History Heap before its aesthetic overhaul.
“Not my shoulders,” Flashy draws a line. “It would get in the way of my bass strap.”
“Hmm… Then maybe around your waist? Definitely some on your boots. Let’s go back inside.”
The hour that had passed had gone by in the blink of an eye, yet when Flashy saw herself, her new self, in the cracked mirror, it felt like she was looking at an entire day’s worth of work. Poppy surely had a magic touch when it came to artistry and creativity.
Poppy, the artist she was, was still adjusting and tweaking her outfit while Flashy got her first look. She could never be satisfied, that one, but she has to stop for now. They had to get into places for their storytelling show any minute now, and Quinn had been asking for help with her Spinch makeup.
“What do you think?”
Flashy was pulled out of her own thoughts, now looking at the reflection of Poppy over her shoulder instead of herself.
“I love it… I feel… I’m not quite sure how I feel.”
Poppy smiles, soft. She knew exactly what she meant. “That feels like something we can start unpacking after the show. You should be tuning up your bass.” Poppy patted the new Flashy’s shoulder, then moved back to her work station to sterilize her makeup brushes.
“I should.” Before Flashy could fully walk out to the Dome of Dreams, she gave Poppy another glance. “Thank you.”
The performance was a huge success. The marauders were entranced by their music and stories, just as the dusty do-gooders thought they would be. And most importantly, Flashy left this performance more confidently than she did any performance in her life. Poppy did too.
...so did the Spinch.