Trad Goth Makeup Novels & Stories

I dye my hair often. My make-up, when I bother to do it, is considered colorful gothic. The blue of my eyes, I’ve been told, makes the smokey style pop. Today I have a black base on the crease of my lid with what looks like thick winged eyeliner. A baby blue sparkly shadow on my eyelids and over the creamy black shadow to create a cool look. My lips are outlined in black with a liquid matte plum lipstick. My skin is a tan that most beach barbies would kill for. My hair is shoulder length. It’s not curly but not straight either. I have to straighten it most days or it’s a frizzy mess. The roots at the crown of my head are pink while the rest is blue and purple. For now, anyway. My shirt is a

She’d lost access to her usual arsenal of disguises but she’d made up for it but heavy, bold makeup. Her eyelids were colored dark, making her eyes look sunken and hooded. She had twisted her hair into tight curls, a look she didn’t usually go for herself but it was okay now that she needed to look different. She used a fake septum and wore a black choker and silver studs in her ears to seal the whole goth look. “So, there’s a possibility,” Calix asked, his voice so soft she almost missed it. She flipped the mirror close, turning her attention back to him.

Dan had described to his mistress. I opened my makeup drawer and bypassed the muted roses and the soft corals he preferred. I reached for a heavy, square tube I had bought in secret, hidden beneath the velvet lining of my jewelry box. I uncapped it, revealing a shade so deep and visceral it looked like an open wound. Blood Red. I applied it with surgical precision. The pigment was thick, matte, and unapologetic. It didn’t soften my features; it sharpened them into a blade. It turned my mouth into a weapon. This wasn’t makeup; it was war paint.

Looking in the mirror, I'm horrified by the person staring back at me. My eyes puffy coupled with dark circles, I look rough. I feel even worse. After applying a generous amount of eye cream to reduce the swelling and concealer. I finish by using far too much mascara and eyeliner attempting to create a sultry look to mask the tears. To my horror, I look like a Goth sister. Giving up, I throw my hair into a high ponytail and slip on a fitted black tracksuit.

The girl with the burgundy colored hair in a side-swept crop, only scoffs at Kitra, taking a step back as she fires wickedly, “You could never undo the ghoul haunts I cast on you back at junior high. I advise you run along to Zorien before I make your bling-bling life a miserable hell, Kitra” What a jarring surprise to see Kitra getting whooped as she grits her teeth angrily and stomps away with a flustered expression. Just who is this girl to have made the arrogant brat cower like that? I’m still staring at her with wide eyes when she turns and catches my gaze. She giggles behind her palm, walking towards. Decked in smokey gothic makeup, a black choker around her neck with a ring piercing i

“There’s a letter here from Elizabeth Giordano.” “She’s my … mother. Unfortunately, we don’t get to choose our parents.” Shiloh replied as she finished stocking the baby section. Several of her friends had babies and complained about the pastel baby crap, their words, not hers. When she came across a small business that specialized in goth baby items she reached out. Along with black onesies that declared “Not smiling, it’s just gas.” there were also bottles with the poison label and Deadly Nightshade. Spider and skull rattles and teethers.

"They’re too bright. The mud is washing off. We need to hide them." "How?" Tristan walked to his desk. He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a small glass vial filled with a milky liquid. "Belladonna extract," he said. "Diluted. It’s for… recreational use. Dilates the pupils." He held it up. "If your pupils are blown wide, the black swallows the violet. It will make you sensitive to light. Your vision will blur close up. And you’ll look drugged." He offered it to her.

And Lydia believed her And honestly? Vanessa kind of meant it. She had spent her time stalking YouTube makeup channels like it was a full time job, pausing, rewinding, practicing on both their faces until she found the look that worked. The night before, they’d even done a homemade face mask they found on i*******m, laughing the whole time It didn’t matter if the prep was five-star or DIY. The whole thing still felt huge— glittery, exciting, like something that would be remembered. Their own little version of the MET Gala