#upswept hair

[bettie-may-page]

Beautiful Backside Of Bettie’s Butt #299

Photograph Repaired: Craig Stewart

[cute-girls-from-vns-anime-manga]

千一夜CB⑯　銭湯 by たろうまる

[huariqueje]

Young Woman with Upswept Hair    -   Paul Albert Besnard 

French, 1849–1934

Pastel on paper mounted to linen ,  18 x 15 in.

[lightkidshenannies]

had a dream that there were two new seasons of sky, season of moths and season of veterans. moths had spirits of rising, falling, gliding, and soaring, and veterans had spirits of secret places, storytelling (lore), friendship, and fashion. all the cosmetics were really cute and for moths they were all igc, but for veterans they were all IAP :/

[azrielhours]

Tight Enough

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Synopsis: Reader needs help tightening her corset and no one's around to help but Azriel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shit,” you breathed, pulling at the laces awkwardly around your waist, trying and failing to tighten your corset. You shifted them around your shoulders, hoping it’d provide sufficient pulleying. You bowed forward, yanking.

Still not enough.

You huffed. You’d been at this for upwards of twenty minutes, hauling and tugging in all kinds of positions til your hands shook.

For all the gentlemanliness and compassion in Rhys and Cassian, you entirely refused to ask mated men to assist you.

Tying the laces onto the doorknob, you tried letting your body fall in the opposite direction. Your feet slid against the tile as you pivoted, nearly tripping. “Shit.” 

This was so fucked.

A gentle knock on the door startled you. “Y/N?”

Azriel.

Fuck.

You scrambled to untie the laces from the doorknob. “Yes?”

“Cass and Rhys stepped out for a bit. Are you alright?”

Fuck.

You scrubbed at your face. This was the outcome you’d been avoiding above all. Worse than the mated men. Mated my ass. You should’ve bit your tongue and asked Cass for help.

“Y/N?” he asked again at your silence.

“Sorry,” you breathed, heart racing.

You cracked open the bathroom door, peering up at him. He searched your eyes patiently as you searched for your courage. “I can’t get my corset on,” you admitted quietly.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, eyes marginally widening.

You shook your head. “It’s fine,” you said quickly, voice tight. “I’ll just—I’ll try—”

“I can help,” he offered softly.

You looked up at him again, eyes pleading. Turn him down. “I—” you swallowed. Turn him down. A glance at the wall behind him with a clock revealed you were even later than you thought. Turn him down. You bit your lip and steeled your spine. Fuck. You were really doing this. “Okay,” you whispered, like you could hide the admission from even yourself.

He gave a slight nod of encouragement, stepping aside to let you come out.

“I—let me—one second,” you stammered, closing the door.

You were still undressed.

Right.

Another huff of indignation as you yanked on a slip to cover your bare legs. This was fine, right? It was just help he was offering. Necessary help.

You took a steadying breath and walked out of the bathroom.

Azriel had moved to stand near the fireplace, watching it with his back to you, like it would offer you privacy. He could surely see your panicked mortification.

You padded to him, placing a hand softly on his elbow to let him know you were ready.

He turned, face carefully neutral as he took in the sight of you.

Where corsets were typically worn over shifts, this one was fashioned to sit directly upon your skin. So you stood before Azriel, flushed cheeks and fidgeting fingers in just your corset and a skirt.

Azriel focused his gaze strictly on your face, didn’t dare let it fall to where the flesh of your breasts generously spilled over the delicate lace trim adorning the hem. Didn’t allow a glance at the thin shift mercifully—barely—covering your legs.

He’d never seen you so undressed.

You shifted your weight between feet beneath his hefty gaze. “Usually, Nuala or Ceridwen or Mor help me,” your voice was still tight. “I’ve never had to do it by myself.”

Azriel nodded. Your skin had a slight sheen to it in the light of the fire. A few pieces of hair had fallen out of your intricate upswept style, curling at the nape of your neck. Azriel might have bitten back a laugh at the endearing sight, at the physical evidence of your struggle—had you not struck him dumb with how beautiful you looked.

How you allowed him to bear witness to your exposed skin, to this intimacy.

He was no stranger to corsets—hell, he’d taken women wearing lingerie that made your attire look like a priestess’s robe, and yet—

He shook his head. This was just help. No matter how lovely you were.

He cleared his throat. He needed you to turn. “Would you—” He twisted a finger in the air, unsure how to ask.

“Oh,” you breathed, still donning that pretty blush on your cheeks. You took another step toward him, turning at last.

With the absence of your imploring gaze—one he’d scarcely forget—Azriel exhaled, allowed himself an assessing glimpse down your form presented before him. He bit back a curse. The laces across the length of the corset were haphazardly pulled. He wondered how Rhys overlooked something like this that clearly required assistance. The spaces between the undone laces revealed your bare back, curving all the way down to the slip resting on your backside.

He didn’t know how to begin touching you.

“Az?” you asked, voice still thin, your nervousness anything but subtle. But you’d been comfortable enough to ask him for help, and that made his heart soar.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat again. Raised his hands hesitantly; a silent deep breath, and he began.

He carefully pulled at the laces starting from the top of your corset, loosening them to correctly adjust their security. Azriel keenly tried his best to pick up each lace without touching your skin. Tried not to consider how creamy it felt when he did graze skin, how warm and perfect. When he’d finished working his way down, he began tugging at the string to tighten it properly.

At the first firm tug, you gasped, stumbling backwards into him. “Oh,” you stepped away hastily. You’d landed directly onto his abdomen, trapping his hands between your bodies. Your own hands had landed on his thighs, bracing yourself. “I’m sorry, Azriel.”

“It’s alright.” Azriel tried not to think about how your softness felt. “It’s my fault.” He couldn’t recall the last time he’d helped a female with her corset.

You looked at him over your shoulder, doing funny things to his heart again with your eyes. “We need a bedpost.” There was sheepish mirth lighting your eyes, displacing the anxiety from before. He managed a reassuring smile back and nodded.

You walked to Cassian’s bed in the inn room you were sharing, gripping the post for stability. Azriel dutifully returned to your back, and you tried not to think about how the warmth from his body radiated so easily into yours from your proximity. How careful he was being with his hands, doing everything to make you more comfortable.

He yanked gently in warning. When you remained sturdily in your spot, his pulling grew stronger, working his way down. When he neared the base of your spine, he began tying the lace. Your hands moved to your waist, feeling snug but not quite as tight-laced as you’d wanted.

You turned to peer at him over your shoulder again. He met your eye in question. “Um, I was hoping to wear it a little tighter,” you admitted.

“Tighter than this?” His brows rose.

You nodded.

He undid the knot, pulling the laces tighter as per your request, waiting for approval.

Once again, you caressed your waist, pushing the corset to feel its give.

“Is it tight enough?” he asked, voice gravely.

“Can I have one more inch?” you asked, and he internally composed himself.

“I don’t know if it would work,” he said.

“Here,” you released your waist, reaching behind, wiggling your fingers for his hands. Azriel extended his hands to hover on either side of your waist, allowing you to guide them on your waist. You pushed onto his hands, making him squeeze your waist. “Can you hold it there?” you asked.

Azriel swallowed, holding your waist tightly, pressing the corset tighter to your body as you reached behind, pulling the untied lace. He tracked your every move, every careful twist of your fingers, how your arms brushed against his hands. Your hands worked dangerously close to his body as you worked to secure the ties at last.

When you finished, he regretfully released you, allowing you to turn, standing between him and the bedpost. He braced himself for the onslaught of your stare, the way he knew you’d look up at him.

Where there’d previously been jittery nervousness, there was something in your eyes now that set his nervousness off. A sense of open depth that swallowed him whole as you took him in. “Thank you,” you breathed. A small smile tugged your lips up.

He wanted to admit something stupidly vulnerable, like thank you for trusting me. So instead, he took a step back, ducked his head, and said, “You’re welcome.”

That pretty, trustful look returned to your eyes, a look he’d do anything to keep others from seeing. “Maybe you can help me zip up my dress too?” Your playful glint had him smiling back.

“Of course.”

You hurried to the bathroom and rustled for a bit before returning to him with the top half of a floor-length, black evening gown hanging off your torso. You stood before him, more confidently than before, and Azriel took his time zipping it up, tucking away the corset. Tucking away the knowledge, the memory of it. It was all his to cherish.

As you put your heels on, a knock sounded on the door. Azriel opened it to find Rhys and Cassian conveniently ready to go, all smug smirks.

“Sorry for making us late,” you said, rushing up behind Azriel. “I had a hard time getting dressed.” Azriel stepped aside, allowing you to exit, taking Cassian’s arm.

Rhys mockingly tsked. “Sorry to hear that. How’d you manage?”

“Azriel helped,” you said over your shoulder.

“Well, thank goodness for Azriel,” Rhys winked at him.

Azriel stood stunned, staring in disbelief at Rhys until you looked back at him blushing, a shy smile knocking the breath from his lungs.

“Yes. Thank goodness for Azriel.”

~

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @riddlesb1tch @cullenswifezz222 @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @emotionless-lover @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @banasheefan56 @nyotamalfoy @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @lilah-asteria

(lmk if your urls changed, sorry some of them don't work!)

[varilien]

(oc uses he/him. his little friend in the second image uses she/her)

ive gotten so used to drawing upswept hair the last three years that it just sort of Happens naturally now while im trying to figure out my guy's new design lol

Palestine: Funds | Action | eSims | Info Sudan Resources | Congo Resources

[kimolisai]

Using Bing Create with the prompt: Highly detailed whimsical art nouveau watercolour illustration of an african american woman, full-body, in a tudor era velvet royal blue dress with red slash sleeve and gold skirt with upswept braided hair held by a red hair band. She stands by an apple grove, holding an apple. Storybook, filigree, ink drawing,

[talshiargirlfriend]

@hjea said we deserved more adorable half-Vulcan baby and that is 100% correct. So here’s what can be considered a missing scene or if you prefer you can say 🖕 to canon and consider it the opening of a fix-it.

Phlox had been notified of their imminent arrival, but nothing could have fully prepared him for the sight that greeted him as the doors to Sickbay parted. A pinched-face Commander T’Pol clutched an infant protectively to her chest as she strode in, flanked by Captain Archer and Commander Tucker. Commander Tucker had a hand on her back and concerned eyes focused on the baby’s profile. A brief look of pain flashed across his face indicating to Phlox that he may soon have two patients. Captain Archer wore his fight face. Behind them trailed a stricken Ensign Mayweather and a stoic Lieutenant Reed. All of them appeared dirty and dishevelled. 

The tiny girl stared at everything around her with wide blue eyes reminiscent of her father’s as she chewed one chubby fist. It brought to mind Sim as a baby, but of course there was no time to dwell on that now. The upswept brows and delicately pointed ears were all her mother, the doctor noted. 

“Well, what have we here?” Phlox greeted T’Pol when she stopped before him. He passed a handheld scanner in front of his young patient. 

“She is gravely ill, Doctor. Her immune system appears to be severely compromised,”  T’Pol informed him as she gently bounced the baby in her arms. It was somewhat less graceful than her usual movements in Phlox’s estimation, but he could nonetheless see the care in her touch. The baby gave a rattling cough as if to confirm her mother’s assessment. 

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask everyone who is not a patient - or the parent of a patient - to leave,” Phlox ordered as the scanner whirred. 

Lieutenant Reed nodded at T’Pol and Phlox, and then whispered something to Commander Tucker before giving him a supportive squeeze on his shoulder as he passed. The resulting grimace on the engineer‘s face confirmed Phlox's earlier suspicions about patient count.  Ensign Mayweather had evidently already had the good sense to slip out unnoticed.

 “You’ll inform me as soon as you know anything,” the captain confirmed as he briefly caught the doctor’s eye. “I’ll check on you all soon.” 

T’Pol gave no acknowledgement as she rubbed the baby’s back rhythmically to soothe her. 

“Take care, Trip,” Jonathan added with an encouraging smile. 

“Aye, Cap’n,” Trip responded with the ghost of a smile as he briefly tore his eyes away from T’Pol and their child. 

Phlox glanced down at the scanner in concern before he addressed the new parents. “She has a respiratory infection. We’ll start with some medication - a mild analgesic, antibiotic, and expectorant. I’d like to see that fever reduced quickly. Depending how she responds over the next hour we may move onto a more aggressive treatment for her lungs including placing her in an oxygen rich environment.” 

As he moved across to the cabinet to prepare the medication Phlox could hear the soft timbre of Commander Tucker’s voice. “She’s heavier than she looks. You want me to take her for a bit?”

“I’m fine,” T’Pol said softly. Trip must have looked ready to argue because she continued quickly, “you are injured, Trip. I will hold her… but perhaps you’d like to touch her or speak to her?” 

When Phlox returned he was loath to interrupt the scene before him. The two parents stood close with their heads canted toward each other. The baby had dropped her head against her mother’s chest and was drooling peacefully as her father stroked her hair and cheek and whispered quiet words of reassurance. In less fraught circumstances Phlox would have taken amusement in the sight of the normally impeccably groomed Vulcan with a patch of spittle spreading on her clothing. 

“I’ve got an injection ready,” he said as he approached the family. “This should ease her discomfort and allow her to sleep more soundly. I’ll also take a blood sample.”  

The child made an irritated squawk when the needle pierced her skin and she shifted her head to give Phlox the most dignified look of pouty-lipped disdain he’d ever seen on a baby. 

Apparently she would take after both her parents in temperament as well as appearance, Phlox thought wryly.

 “Shhh now, you’re all right, little one. I know it’s no fun getting jabbed, but the doc here is gonna help you feel a lot better.”

T’Pol turned pleading eyes toward the doctor as she gently rocked the baby. 

He would certainly do his best. 

“Commanders,” Phlox said gently as he prepared to analyse the blood of Enterprise's newest resident. “This will take some time. I won’t ask you to rest now, but it would be a good idea to refresh yourselves somewhat and get comfortable…” he trailed off as he nodded toward the chairs along the wall. 

Their reluctance to leave was palpable. Phlox could understand it well, but they would be better able to care for their newfound daughter if they first looked after their own needs. 

He glanced back to see the two commanders locked in an apparent staring contest. Before he could make a stronger appeal, Commander Tucker gave a faint sigh. 

“All right. You two go sit in one of Phlox’s comfy chairs.  I’m gonna go wash the moon dust off and grab a cup of coffee. When I get back I’m gonna bring you a change of clothes and a cup of tea, and you’re gonna take a break for ten minutes,” he informed T’Pol rather intensely.  Phlox expected Vulcan indignance, but instead she only nodded in response. That was interesting. 

Satisfied, Trip leaned down to gently stroke his daughter’s cheek. “I’ll be right back. You be good for your mama,” he whispered. T’Pol’s eyes widened slightly, and he gave her a faintly bewildered smile. “I know. It's surreal. But you’re her mom.”

“And you are her father,” she replied seriously. 

A bright grin spread over Trip’s face. “I am,” he said, wonder evident in his tone. His voice dropped back down,”You’re doing great, T’Pol.” He rubbed her arm. 

“Ok, Doc,” he said a bit louder. “Keep an eye on these Vulcan girls for me. I’ll be back in twenty minutes, tops.” He paused to kiss the sleepy infant on her head and the startled mother on her lips. 

Phlox politely averted his eyes and hid his grin as he focused on the screen at his workstation.  “Commander,” he called out as Trip reached the door. “I'm going to take a look at that shoulder when you get back.” At the dark muttering he heard in response, Phlox allowed himself a small smile before frowning at the data loading before him. 

The baby’s eyes were starting to drift closed, and he could hear T’Pol speaking quietly to her as she paced.

“Your father is very physically affectionate.” There was a pause. “We will adapt.”

“You still need a name,” T’Pol murmured to the child. “I have something in mind. We will discuss it with your father when he returns.”

[eemcintyre]

All or Nothing at All (Tom Cruise)

TW- allusions to sex? Other than that, it's fluffy sweetness, a bit of angst, and then sweetness again.

Summary- Attending a friend's wedding compels Tom to ask you an important ~question~, and it invites a conversation about the direction of your relationship and your anxieties about it. Could be read as a prequel to "Something to Talk About" if desired??

I said I would do it, and I have finally delivered- I just had to muscle past the mire of depression and procrastination lol. I don't feel like this is my best, but hey maybe I'm wrong and hopefully y'all still enjoy it :)

It was long after sunset when the wooden front door of Tom’s Colorado home creaked open and he and Y/N stumbled over the threshold. Having just completed the short flight home from a friend’s wedding, they laughed and reminisced over the evening’s antics- the ceremony, the food, and the wedding party members who’d been caught hooking up.

“….But who do you think had the better speech?” Y/N hung her coat on the rack next to the door, placing her shoes, which she had removed long ago, on the floor underneath.

“Oh, definitely the best man,” Tom replied, tossing his house key onto the kitchen island, yawning and running his fingers through his hair, unkempt after the day of activity. “When he started dancing to his own rendition of ‘You’re My Best Friend’, I knew the competition was over.”

“He did make it pretty hard to beat,” Y/N laughed, following Tom into the kitchen. “But I think he was also already a couple of tequilas in.”

He slipped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her side against his chest. “I don’t know, you didn’t need any tequila to break it down pretty damn hard to the Spice Girls,” he smirked, quirking his eyebrows.

“And you loved every second of it,” she retorted, giving him a playful push as she stepped away to undo her upswept hair, which was half-falling down anyway. “But while we’re on the topic of the music- what kind of self-respecting wedding DJ doesn’t play ‘The Way You Look Tonight’?”

“Y’know, you’re right. I kept waiting for it and it never happened,” he marveled, disappearing into the living room as he shook his head.

“Tom?”

The notes of Frank Sinatra’s aforementioned tune began to lilt through the kitchen entryway, and Y/N wandered in that direction, leaning against the wooden support, smiling. Tom, who had been standing next to the stereo with an expectant grin when she arrived, approached her with an outstretched hand. They began to dance leisurely across the living room, the expanse of windows around them providing a backdrop of stars and silhouetted birch trees.

“I guess we’ll just have to get married so we can set things right. Play Sinatra’s whole discography,” Tom chuckled, holding Y/N’s hand against his chest.

“And then end the night with ‘Baby Got Back’,” she joked in return.

“Oh, absolutely.”

She joined Tom in the laughter until it seemed to go on for a bit too long, and she was struck with the notion he might not be entirely joking. The music seemed to recede into the background as the conversation continued.

“Y’know, this has all gotten me thinking… why don’t we get married?” He gazed at her intently as his voice took on an unmistakably sincere tone.

“What? Are you crazy?” she cackled, an intense blush climbing her face. He launched her into a spin as the music crescendoed.

“I love you. Why is that crazy?” he replied, once they returned to face each other.

“No, I mean, it’s not crazy.” With one hand she gripped his shoulder, and with the other, she stroked the side of his face. “Tom, I adore you and I’m really happy…”

“Then, what-”

“But you like everything to be new and exciting. You’ll eventually get bored of me.” Her laugh and an attempt at a forced smile faded, and she stared at the rug beneath their feet.

“Are you kidding?” Tom was incredulous as he gently gripped her chin, tilting her face upward again. “Or do you think maybe I need someone stable in my life that I can count on, who doesn’t spew all the fake bullshit that I have to deal with from everyone else?” Their dancing was now confined to only a small patch of the floor, where they were not so much dancing as just rocking back and forth. “Otherwise, the exciting stuff isn’t enjoyable. It just becomes constant chaos. And having all of this,” he gestured generally at the house, “It doesn’t mean anything to me anymore if I can’t share it with you. It’s just some lonely guy’s big, empty house.”

He finally paused as Y/N stared thoughtfully at him and he stared back, unsuccessful in determining whether her expression was affirmative or negative. As she appeared at a loss for words, he felt the continued need to fill the space.

“Sweetheart, you know I’m an all-or-nothing kinda guy…”

Finally, she managed to speak again. “You know I am too, and that’s what scares me. If I commit to you like that, I need it to be forever. I need to know that, when things get difficult, we’ll work through it and you won’t just leave like you’ve done before.”

As she referenced Tom’s past relationships, it stung, but he knew she was right. They had stopped dancing entirely by this point and simply stood in the middle of the living room with the stereo playing.

“I need to know that you’d always be in it one hundred percent, and not just when it’s easy and new and interesting and I don’t have any wrinkles.” She smiled ruefully, clutching his hands. “We’ve got such a good thing going. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Darlin’, if you really love me like I love you- and I think you do- please don’t talk yourself out of this just because I know you don’t like change.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “I get that you’re worried, and honestly, I’d be a little concerned if you weren’t.” He shrugged, grimacing. “I’ve screwed up a lot, and I haven’t always been the best at decision-making. I know that. But there’s one choice I’ve never regretted, and that’s you.”

He paused, his grave expression softening, as his grin returned. “Think about what an adventure it would be! It’ll be great- we’ll watch movies and fall asleep on the couch, and we’ll cook pancakes together in our underwear and just, like, make love constantly. All over the world.” Y/N giggled as Tom rambled, and he could see her eyes gleaming in the dim light. “We’ll get wrinkled together and be one of those cute, wrinkly old couples. And we’ll work through anything bad that comes our way. You’re one of the toughest ladies I know, and I’m tired of running away from fights. That’s not who I wanna be. You’re the only one who calls me out on my own fake bullshit.”

“You’re pretty good at that yourself,” Y/N murmured with a guilty look, and Tom’s eyes crinkled knowingly.

“I know you’ve taken a lot of chances on me, but I haven’t let you down yet, have I?” Finally, one of her hands still in his, he got down on one knee. “So, please just take one more and, I promise, the trend will continue.”

Y/N beamed down at him, and he realized that the gleam in her eyes was from tears, a few of which had rolled down her cheeks. “Cruise, you state a compelling case.”

“Is that a yes?” he inquired, eyes widening.

“It’s a yes,” she nodded vigorously between kisses as he sprang back to his feet and pressed his lips to hers.

They threw their arms around each other and he swept her off her feet, spinning her around to the music that still played.

“And now, you know you’re stuck with me,” she chuckled, sniffing as he wiped the tears from her face.

“God, I hope so.”

[the-girl-from-another-time]

Smallville was consistently intentional with its costuming choices, but one of my favorite details is how clearly Lana Lang’s sense of style comes across through her formal dresses.

Her freshman homecoming dress (1x01), senior prom dress (4x18), and wedding dress (6x16) all feature corseted tops, sweetheart necklines, and pastels. Moreover, the progression shows her character growth.

Her homecoming dress reflects her characterization at the beginning of the show (more specifically, how other characters see her). In pastels and flowers and pearls, all soft and delicate fabrics and poofy skirts with her hair down, she’s still the fairy princess and hometown sweetheart. She is what Smallville expects her to be. She has not yet grown into herself.

Now she’s 18, and she’s lived abroad for a summer. She’s become more mature, sophisticated, and independent, and her prom dress reflects that. This look is less frilly/girly/princess-ish than the first. The satin fabric, tight fit, upswept hair, and elegant simplicity are more adult, and they suit her.

Other than the skirt, her wedding look is really similar to her prom dress. It’s clearly her style (including the simple, sparse jewelry). The soft purple hue of the bow/belt of course symbolizes her Luthor connection (and the Luthors’ control over her). It’s also clear that despite the element of force in this wedding, Lana did want it at one point, and she chose this dress with care and authenticity.

Anyway, it’s so nice to see characters with consistent, individual senses of style instead of just wearing whatever basic clothes are trendy at the time.

[bettie-may-page]

Bettie Page Standing #560 Replacing a clearer photograph of Bettie from an earlier black & white post, enjoy!

Photoshop Repaired: Craig Stewart

[invisibleraven]

we kissed last night but we have to pretend like nothing happened

peterpatterlina

Julie wasn't usually one for parties-she much preferred to be home with a good book, or even an enjoyable reality show. However Flynn wanted to go out after a disastrous break up, and well Julie wasn't letting her go out alone.

Even so, she felt uncomfortable in her little black dress and spiky heels-even if she looked great, it didn't seem like her. At least the drinks were good.

Flynn seemed to be having a good time-flirting with a cute girl in a lilac coloured wig in the corner, seeming genuinely happy for the first time in weeks. Julie was glad-her friend deserved nothing but happiness, especially after the awful way her last relationship had ended.

Julie was happily single herself-she wasn't really interested in flings, and hadn't really been looking for 'the one'. She would find romance when it was ready for her-and not before.

She wandered around the party, observing games of beer pong, an impromptu dance floor in the living room, and then-music coming from the basement. She cautiously went down the steep stairs, having to hold back a laugh when she saw the set-up for people to play old school Guitar Hero and Rock Band on the TV.

There weren't many people down here, and most were off in dark corners drinking, smoking, and hooking up from what Julie could see. Which was a shame, because the guys playing were doing really well, and sounded great as they sang along to the songs as they played.

"You guys are really good!" she commented as the song ended.

"Thanks!" the scruffy brunette on guitar said with a disarming smile. "But we're better with real instruments."

"We're Sunset Curve-tell your friends!" said the other guy with upswept black hair and a truly enthusiastic grin.

"You wanna play? We've got the keys empty if you wanna jump in," the guitarist said.

Julie had never really played the game before-and while she understood the concept, she wasn't sure she'd be any good at it. "I could sing instead if you're okay with that?"

"Yes!" the bassist cheered. "My falsetto only goes so high, perfect chance for us to do some Heart, or Blondie, maybe even Dolly!"

"Reg there is no way this game has a Dolly Parton song on it."

"It might! Come on Lu, let me live in hope!"

Julie giggled, scrolling through the songs, finally selecting something she knew from listening to vintage stations on road trips with her mom. "How's this?"

"Perfect."

Julie grinned and began singing, not caring about being pitch perfect, but having fun. Belting out the lyrics and smiling so wide her face hurt-especially when she saw the astonished faces of her two bandmates at her voice.

She danced around the small space as she sang, draping an arm around each of the boys as she got close, hamming it up a little, but they both got into it, giving her heavy looks and it made Julie warm down to her toes-even if they were squashed into her pinchy heels.

When the song ended there was a smattering of applause from the few people paying attention, but they soon turned back to their own things as Julie flopped onto the couch, the guys on either side of her.

"Damn," the guitarist-Lu the bassist had called him-said. "Your voice is killer!"

"Thanks," Julie replied.

"You sound like an angel," Reg said, blushing so prettily, and Julie couldn't help but feel her face heat up at the compliment.

The guys had tossed off the plastic instruments, but it still felt like there was no room on the couch-maybe because Julie felt the overwhelming attraction between the three of them. He heart was still racing, and she wasn't sure if it would ever slow down.

It didn't help when the guys crowded in even closer, their faces nuzzling hers, and Julie knew what she wanted-even if it was just for fun, which she didn't usually do, she wanted to kiss them.

She couldn't kiss them both though right?

Well it seemed she could, as Lu turned her face to him, capturing her mouth with his-a heady, passionate kiss that had Julie whimpering into it and almost chasing his lips when he pulled away. Only then, Reggie turned her to him, and his kiss was almost electric, making Julie feel as though she had been woken up after a dream.

Then-Julie wasn't sure she wasn't dreaming as the guys pulled each other in for a kiss-more harsh and rough then the ones they had granted her, but delicious none the less, and Julie craved even more from them-kisses, songs, the whole shebang.

She was about to reel them in for more when she heard Flynn call her.

"Jules, we have to go!"

Julie looked at the boys apologetically. "Sorry. I have to-sorry." With that she took off, finding Flynn who was shuttling them out of the house lickety split, as apparently her ex-and her newest flame-had just come in.

The rest of the night was spent consoling Flynn-and while Julie was a little sad she didn't get more kisses, friends came first. And maybe she'd see the guys on campus?

The next day, feeling a little worse for wear, Julie tossed back some Advil, threw on her comfiest clothes and cursed Past Julie for signing up for such an early class.

She barely made it to her Composition class, stuck in a seat up front, guaranteeing the prof would call on her, but that was what she got for drinking on a school night.

"Alright," Professor Harrison called out. "I have a treat for you all. Today I have some former students of mine to come in and talk to you all about song writing. Please welcome Luke Patterson and Reggie Peters, two of the members of Sunset Curve!"

Oh fuck.

Julie froze as the two guys she had been all but making out with the night before walk into the classroom. The rest of the class was full of whispers-apparently their band was pretty well known? Julie didn't really keep up with modern music due to her concentration in the Classical area.

But she guessed she should check them out-their band! She should check their band out!

The guys saw her too, with Luke freezing and Reggie giving a smile that looked less than natural.

She guessed they didn't expect to see her in the class they were talking to this morning. But they were all adults, they could be normal.

She knew how to be normal right?

Given the flush of her cheeks and the way she could barely concentrate, let alone look at the guys, apparently not, which is a shame, because she was sure whatever they were saying was very interesting and insightful.

Clas swent blessedly quickly, and Julie was ready to bolt when the hour was up, but of course Professor Harrison called her up. "I wanted you to meet Luke and Reggie here-they were my star pupils in this class-I think you could learn a lot from them outside of what they shared with the class today."

"T-thanks."

"How about we go get a coffee?" Luke offered.

"Unless you have another class now?" Reggie asked, giving her an out.

But as embarrassed as Julie was, she did feel like she wanted to get to know them. And she really could use a coffee...

"I'm free until this afternoon."

"Excellent," Luke said, the three of them heading out.

"So Julie," Reggie started, smiling bright at her. "You up for another game of Rock Band?"

"I might be-but you promised me coffee," Julie replied. "And to show me how good you are with real instruments."

"We can do that," Luke responded. "But you still gotta sing with us."

Julie bit her lip, last night had been one thing, just playing around after a few drinks. This was singing with a honest to goodness band. However, given how Luke and Reggie were looking at her-much like they had last night-well Julie was sure she would like to see how today would end up, especially with no Flynn coming to drag her away.

Needless to say, she missed her afternoon class. But given she came away with two new boyfriends, she was going to say it was definitely worth it.

[strangenewwords]

Mr & Mrs X (2018)

Okay so I have a lot of feelings about this panel. I love LOVE LOVE Laura being a part of this. Her just fixing his hair and trying to take care of him.

but please

someone tell me

WHY IS STORM WHITE.

like I legit did not could jot figure out who that was with the upswept hair.

WHY. WHY IS STORM WHITE. THIS ISNT EVEN KINDA JUST WTF.

[osunism]

Thinking about Sukuna and Nadja strolling through the garden during winter [their favorite season], and Sukuna draping his haori over her [it swallows her she's tiny] to keep her warm. Sukuna marveling at how good Nadja looks in the traditional attire of HIS country.

Her black, curly hair upswept in a coif, the way the kimono he had made for her suits her so well: black silk, a prowling tiger [his subtle mark of ownership] along its back. How the dark umber of her skin, and her dark eyes stand out against the snow.

She does not have the hands of a woman who was gently-reared. Slender and delicate, but calloused and blade-ready. He takes them and kisses her fingers and palms anyway, worshiping hands as capable of taking life as his own. Sukuna is tender with her in the winter.

Nadja, who asks Sukuna about local festivals, and he indulges her [much to chagrin of the Hida locals]...takes her to see what life is like in his world. For a while, he is happy. And she is too. Neither one of them thinking about her mission to kill him. She doesn't want to.

Sukuna, who takes supreme pleasure in untying Nadja's obi, unwrapping her like a gift. He marvels at the body carved by Heaven, she marvels at his beauty, cursed by Hell. Somehow they meet in the middle, and Sukuna feels full for the first time in his life.

Nadja, whose hands are slow and ponderous as she explores every inch of him, rubbing Sukuna down with a thorough massage that leaves him drowsy and boneless beneath her. She leans in, presses a kiss to the tattoos on his neck, laughs when a pair of hands tickle her feet.

Sukuna, who is wearing a lazy and drowsy smile, dozing as the lantern burns low, and incense smoke curls like serpents in the dimness of the bedchamber. Nadja, who is fast asleep in his arms, looking for all the world like an angel and not the dagger sent to pierce his heart.

Sukuna, who doesn't tell Nadja that he loves her, only holds her closer than skin as the velvet night deepens around them, and makes a vow that will change their destinies for the next thousand years.

[knifedancer]

Love At First Sight - Main Story

Marinette is hit by an akuma on her way to school one morning. At first, she doesn't feel any different but a few classmates seem to be acting strangely after meeting her eyes. Realizing the dire situation she's in, she gives the Ladybug miraculous to Alya and hides herself until the cure can be cast. However Felix finds her huddled under a desk and he seems to be immune to the effects of the akuma...why?

This is posted on AO3, it can be found here! Silly Thoughts

Bonus, Sorta

*******

Huddled beneath a desk in an empty classroom, terrified and miracu-less while an akuma ran amok outside, Marinette would not count this as one of her better moments…but desperation was sometimes a powerful source of inspiration. Desperation born from that same akuma, which appeared on her way to school and hit her before she could even transform. And that wasn’t even the worst part!

What could be worse? Good question.

Marinette could think of several ideas but, right now, she really could only focus on trying to calm her panicked breathing and nurse her sprained wrist. She had created a sling with the ripped remnants of her jacket as soon as she hid here from her pursuers.

Why was she here instead of out in the fight? Wait– pursuers?!

Well, it’s a long story…

~~~

Like any typical Thursday, Marinette awoke late and rushed to get ready before stumbling out of the bakery to head towards the school. She had thrown on her new pink circle skirt – which she hemmed to stop a flirty few centimeters above her knees – since her capris were in the wash, which ultimately made getting ready faster. Perhaps, if she weren’t so sleepy from a late-night working on commissions and sewing projects, the bluenette would have noticed that there were far more cars and people in the street than usual. She would have taken more than a precursory glance at the sheer amount of people chasing others around and fighting over each other. Maybe she would have reacted a little faster when the initial chill went down her spine hearing a singsong voice soliloquizing behind her.

“Guillaume said he didn’t believe in love at first sight; that it seldom happens that you can plan your whole future just by looking at someone in the eyes. I’ll show him!”

Marinette, suddenly wide awake and on high alert, spun to face the oncoming threat with a clenched fist. In the middle of the street stood a lone figure draped in a Juliet styled dress of red and white, decorated with gold floral embroidery. A violet gauzy Grecian drape seemed to attach at the shoulders and flared back behind her, the train forming a torn heart on the ground. The long slit up one side of the skirt revealed smooth lavender colored skin from hip to bare foot with each purposeful step. A circlet of gold arrows formed a dangerous looking crown that rested upon her upswept ebony black hair. However, what the secret heroine was most terrified of was the long bullwhip the akuma had stretched between her hands.

Red, heart-shaped irises locked onto the young designer on the street corner. The chill was suddenly replaced with dread as an unnatural grin split the akuma’s face, “You believe in love at first sight, don’t you, chérie? Haha, if not, you soon will!”

‘Not good, not good,’ the girl thought as her eyes scanned for an escape route. Marinette was within sight of the school – in fact she could hear the tardy bell ringing right now! She could take shelter there and transform in the locker room!

Armed with a plan and with only seconds to spare, she proceeded to bolt down the sidewalk as the akuma’s whip cracked on her heels; barely missing the teen and causing the akuma to growl with frustration. The pink clad girl rounded the curve and began bolting up the front stairs, only to trip on the top step when she glanced back to gauge the distance between them. She scrambled to get up on bloodied knees, but it was too late. The akuma’s whip landed a solid blow to her left leg and Marinette screamed as the searing hot pain coursed up her body from the point of impact. A blinding ache seemed to settle behind her eyes like a migraine before vanishing completely. By the time the bluenette recovered, the akuma had gone – her distant cackle echoing in the noisy Parisian streets.

“I don’t feel any different,” Marinette muttered to herself as she looked down at her hands and felt around for wounds. Besides the bloodied scuffs on her knees and light scratches to the palms of her hands from the fall, there was no mark from where the akuma hit her. “I’m not under mind control or changed into anything odd...” The designer got up with a wince and limped into the doorway. Too preoccupied with brushing the bits of dirt off her knees as she glanced back towards the street, she failed to notice a person leaving the locker room and bumped right into them. She soon found herself back on the ground again. “Oh gods, I’m so sorr—"

“Being as clumsy as ever, huh, Maritrash?” An unpleasant voice sneered down at her.

Marinette looked up and met the glaring eyes of the one person she really couldn't stand: Lila Rossi.

“Look, Lila, I didn’t see you there so it’s not like I did it on purpose!”

“Oh…,” was all the school’s liar could say in reply. Marinette noticed her olive-green eyes widened and took on a pink sheen before returning to their normal coloration. Lila’s look softened and she helped Marinette to her feet with a sweet smile, her voice becoming as smooth as honey. “Did you do something new with your hair today? It really glows in the sun. Perhaps you could tell me all about your beauty routine…”

Freaked out by the sudden change of character and filled with suspicion, the bluenette took a few steps back. “What? What ploy or lie is it this time, Lila?”

“Ploy? Oh, nothing… I just suddenly realized how beautiful you look and wanted to tell you,” the Italian shyly replied. “Oh goodness! You’re bleeding! Here, let me carry your books for you…”

Marinette jumped back, her eyes narrowing as she tried to figure out what Lila’s plan was. The sausage haired teen continued to advance and grabbing at her backpack straps as they circled each other. ‘I need to go transform; I don’t have time for this!’ the heroine thought with irritation.

Suddenly a long shadow cast over the entryway and both girls looked up to see Lê Chiến Kim curiously watching them as he stood there holding a doctor’s note in his fist. However, once his eyes met Marinette’s, the athlete’s mouth dropped open in a silent ‘oh…’ and his eyes also took on a quick pink sheen.

“Dang, Mari, have you been working out? You look really great today!” The taller boy smiled and approached them.

“Uhh….no…” she replied stiffly as Lila took that moment of distraction to latch on to her arm. Marinette glanced at the Italian, who seemed to be glaring at Kim as she began to pull the designer in the opposite direction. “Lila, what are you—let go!”

“Hey, Rossi, you heard the hottie with the body. Let her go,” growled the Vietnamese boy, “or I’ll make you.”

The hallway fell silent as they glared at each other, time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl. Suddenly Kim dropped into a three-point stance and leveled his intense gaze on them. Without warning, he launched himself forward – remaining low to the ground as he charged – and scooped a screaming Marinette over his shoulder as he sprinted further into the school. Lila attempted to tighten her grasp, but it was only successful at ripping the other girl’s sleeve at the shoulder seam. Marinette felt her friend bolting up the central stairs two at a time while Lila let out an unholy screech from the floor below. ‘Is this caused by the akuma? Was looking at me the trigger?’ Marinette thought warily as she jostled on the jock’s shoulder.

Kim finally slid to a stop and set her on her feet again right in front of the classroom. He opened the door for her and had the expectant face of a puppy looking for praise. “Um, thank you…,” Marinette mumbled before proceeding into class, she would have to ask to go to the bathroom so she could transform. That’s when Kim’s arm snaked around her waist and pulled her to his side, she looked at him in shock at his boldness. “Wha-what are you…” the bluenette began to ask when Chloe approached.

“Dupain-Cheng! What are you doing? What, is Adrikins not enough for you or are you attempting to make him jealous? Because he’s not even in class today!” The whole class fell silent, watching with interest.

‘Well, it’s not from looking at my person then, otherwise Chloe would be acting oddly,’ the secret heroine mused.

The athletic boy’s arm tightened on her as Marinette tried to edge away unsuccessfully. Chloe’s hand reached out and grabbed her right arm and yanked hard, finally dislodging her from Kim’s embrace and causing her to stumble right into the haughty blond. They landed in a heap – Chloe beneath her – on the floor. The blond diva began to shriek and attempted to push her off while the designer tried to get up. In the process, their eyes met for a brief second.

“Oh…” stated Chloe, her eyes shining pink for a moment before a blush appeared on her cheeks.

“You’re so clumsy, Mari,” she stated fondly, raising her manicured hand to cup the bluenette’s cheek as blue gazed into blue. “It’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Maybe it’s because you’re falling for me?”

Marinette’s mouth hung open and she was momentarily stunned, unsure how to process this sudden change in Chloe’s behavior. Same as with Kim and Lila…it had happened after they made eye contact. ‘That must be the trigger!’ she thought, already worrying about the struggle of trying to fight if she could not risk accidentally meeting someone’s eyes. Meanwhile the mayor’s daughter was taking her silence as encouragement and leaned towards Marinette hesitantly, her eyes on her lips… Only to be left blinking in surprise as her ladylove was suddenly torn from her arms. She glared up at the jock and now-present liar as they both tried to pull the bluenette closer. Marinette focused her gaze on the floor to avoid enthralling any other of her dumbstruck classmates and struggled to get free.

“Guys, let go!” she desperately cried. The trio began to argue, pulling her around as the heated exchange threatened to become a brawl.

“Vaffanculo! I saw her first, testa di minchia!”

“She would rather be with a guy like me than your sausage-faced ass!”

“Neither of you can truly appreciate Marikins! If you don’t let go, I’ll get my daddy to ruin both of your lives!”

“Sausage-face?! I’m going to claw your face off, stronzo!”

“Lê Chiến! You already have a girlfriend, Ondine. And Rossi, you don’t even like her on a good day!”

“Ondine isn’t my true love, Mari is! Besides, you’d just crush her until she gets akumatized like you did to me!”

“I’ll show you—!”

“Mang nó đi con chó cái!”

All at once, they began to claw, pummel, and shriek at each other – with Marinette trapped in the middle, like a violent game of keep away. Forcing her eyes closed, she felt one of them pull a pigtail while another yanked hard enough on her right arm that she felt something pop. Someone else – Lila, she assumed – ended up stomping on her foot hard while jumping to reach Kim behind her. The next instant she felt someone’s nails slide down her face nearest her eye, causing the bluenette to cry out with pain. Her cry seemed to bring the rest of the stunned class out of their bewildered voyeurism, their panicked voices joining the cacophony of the argument until she felt deafened by the volume.

Suddenly two familiar arms wrapped around her waist and pulled until she was free of the kerfuffle at the cost of her right sleeve – which ripped clean off by whomever had last held her arm. She briefly opened her eyes but used her peripherals through her lashes to look back towards the fight. The trio were so engrossed in attacking each other, verbally and physically, that they had not noticed her sudden departure. Their classmates and teacher were attempting to pull them apart. Marinette closed her eyes again, as Alya’s voice popped up next to her ear.

“What the hell is going on with them?”

“Akuma. Code scarab,” the secret heroine murmured, knowing her friend would know exactly what needed to happen.

“On it,” came the blogger’s reply. Marinette stumbled painfully as she was guided quickly out of the classroom and down the hall. She could hear a commotion behind them as the trio finally noticed her absence, so they picked up their pace a little as they started hearing footfalls giving chase. Soon enough Alya pulled them into an empty classroom and shut the door; they stood in silence as they heard angry voices pass them by. They both let out a relieved breath.

“Alright, you said it was an akuma. What happened?” Her friend kept her voice low so as not to chance them being overheard.

“I was on my way to school when an akuma hit me with their whip. Besides some horrible pain at first, I didn’t notice any other change until I got in the front door. I bumped into Lila and she started acting odd, then Kim, and you saw what happened with Chloe. If I look someone in the eyes, I think it makes them fall in love with me.” Marinette carefully shook her head and reached up for her earrings. “I can’t chance compromising Chat Noir nor making the fight any more difficult. There’s no way I can transform like this, we’ll need Scarabella on this one,” blindly she held her hand out in front of her, palm up with the miraculous on full display.

“I won’t let you down, girl,” she felt Alya’s warm fingers take the earrings from her hand and then guide her to one of the desks. “You better settle down and take cover until I can cast the cure.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks and good luck, Alya,” she sighed, slipping beneath the desk. Once she heard her friend leave the room, Marinette opened her eyes and looked around. The Ladyblogger had brought her to one of the classrooms they used for the occasional overflow when other schools visited for special events. At least no one else would likely come in here! Whew.

Then she began surveying the damage from the fight earlier. She could tell she was missing one hairband, so she pulled the remaining one out and slid it onto her left wrist for later and ran the fingers of her good hand through the tangles quickly. Her jacket was missing an entire sleeve and a pocket was ripped open, her black flat now sported a foot-shaped scuff but, other than that, her clothes were simply disheveled. Her wrist was badly sprained from the tugging earlier and was beginning to swell, her knees were scraped and bleeding, her palms were lightly scratched, and she could feel a stinging wound on her face where she had been clawed. ‘Just my luck,’ she thought ruefully. ‘At least these should be healed by the cure, might as well make myself more comfortable until then.’ She carefully extracted her arm from the blazer and created a sling to immobilize her right wrist, any blood would have to wait until she had access to supplies to clean the wounds properly – man, she’d kill for an icepack – but like hell was she going outside right now!

Marinette heard a stampede of footsteps and people frantically calling her name in the hall, her heartrate skyrocketed with panic, and she prayed to every kwami that they would not find her. The door opened and she held her breath, keeping her eyes firmly planted on her knees as she listened. The door closed and a single pair of soft footfalls could be heard moving through the classroom. ‘Please don’t be Lila or Chloe, please go away…’ she begged mentally as she screwed her teary eyes shut. The footsteps stopped in the aisle, she curled more tightly into the corner beneath the desk in hopes that she would not be seen. Hearing a chair scrape back beside her made her involuntarily open her eyes and stare forward in absolute fear at whom was there.

The bluenette was shocked to see the grey hazel eyes of Felix Fathom gazing back at her with a hint of concern. The same Felix that disguised himself as his cousin months ago and now attended their school with the excuse of ‘needing to review his French’ – which he obviously didn’t need! The same rude, cold, and argumentative classmate she had to deal with every day in class; always attempting to get a rise out of her as if it were his new purpose in life. The same boy that sported the face of her former crush. All things considered, at least he wasn’t Lila!

“Dupa—oh…” Her eyes slammed shut again, unwilling to watch the change as she cursed her idiocy. Marinette flinched back and whimpered as she heard him sidle more under the desk. Unexpectedly she felt the ghost-like touch of fingertips beneath the wound on her face and she jerked away, finally opening her teary eyes to see Felix kindly lifting a handkerchief to dab at the blood on her face. “You’re bleeding.”

“How were you able to find me?” Her tone was as accusatory as it was scared.

“I happened to see Césaire slip out of the room after she took off with you. Don’t worry, I made sure I wasn’t followed. Care to explain what is going on?”

A few rebel tears spilled down her cheeks, but he mopped those up too, with growing concern in his eyes. “I was hit by an akuma on the steps of the school…apparently it makes anyone that looks into my eyes fall in love with me. I bumped into Lila and Kim in the entry and, well, you saw what happened with Chloe in class. And now you—” she choked on a sob. If her current state was from Kim, Lila, and Chloe’s possessive reactions, she was terrified of how malicious Felix could be under the forced enthrallment.

The taciturn blond frowned but remained silent as he continued to dry her tears and check for any other wounds. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke softly to the huddled girl. “I think it would be best to get you out of here. It’s only a matter of time before the others start ripping apart classrooms to find you.”

“You’re right but I would never make it past the front gate and our classmates know where I live. Going to any unaffected friend’s house would put them at risk and likely end in the same kind of fight we saw earlier…”

“Hmm. I have an idea, give me a few moments to get it ready. Stay hidden and quiet,” he replied.

“Wait, where are you going?” Marinette looked into his eyes as he rose to his feet, a small smile gracing his lips.

“I’m going to gather some supplies. Stay here. I’ll knock three times so that you know it is me.” With that, he departed the classroom and shut the door firmly behind him. Having no other choice, Marinette took out her phone and texted her mother to make sure she knew not to let anyone into the house from school and checked for battle updates on the Ladyblog’s messaging board. ‘If only I had Kaalki, then I could just teleport home…,’ the girl thought sadly. About fifteen agonizing minutes later, she heard the three consecutive knocks that announced Felix’s return but didn’t even attempt to move from under the desk until she heard the door shut. He quickly strode to her side, setting out his spoils on the tabletop.

A large red hoodie.

White sunglasses.

And was that an icepack?!

“Felix, what…” the confused girl started.

“You can thank your ‘admirers’ for their generous gifts later. I found Lê Chiến, who was easy to convince to give me his sweater. The sunglasses… I found Bourgeois and encouraged her to give you a ‘token of her affections’ that you could wear. I told them that you would meet them at Andre’s at 2 o’clock. Lila must have overheard as I saw the three of them running off in an effort to get to you first,” he laughed softly.

“And the icepack?”

Felix’s eyes softened and his voice dropped to a murmur, “I stole it from the nurse’s office. For your wrist.” He cleared his throat and looked as if he was trying to find something to keep him preoccupied. He settled on picking up the icepack, breaking the activator inside of it and shaking the contents to expedite the reaction. “This will be your disguise to get you off campus grounds. The sunglasses are to, hopefully, block anyone else from possibly seeing your eyes and being affected by the akuma’s influence.”

Her heart fluttered briefly in her chest. To think that he planned this all out and even considered the pain she was so obviously in as well as her worries…she was truly touched. “Thank you, Felix.” She carefully began to untie her jacket sling from her chest and began to slide into the red hoodie, finding that it hung down just past her skirt hem. ‘This is going to make me look naked under here,’ the designer thought wearily. She hissed with pain as she attempted to zip it up; her sprain made it almost impossible to maneuver the end into the slide. Felix extended the icepack to Marinette to wrap around her wrist, then pulled the ends of the zipper together to help fasten the front for her.

“Do you have a hair tie on you? It would be best to tie it back to hide it in the hood.”

“Um, yes,” she gently rolled it off her left wrist and held it up between her fingers. “But I won’t be able to secure it with one hand. My right is practically useless right now.”

“May I?” Offered the blond, taking the hair tie and situating himself behind her. Marinette held in a surprised squeak as his fingers began to tentatively card through her locks, gently massaging the scalp while he pulled her hair back. She closed her eyes and reclined her head slightly, getting lost in the tingling sensations on her scalp for a moment. However, it could not last forever – too soon he tied off the ends and she felt his fingers glance off her shoulders before he moved in front of her, both teens now sporting a light blush. The bluenette reached up and touched her hair, finding that he had created a loose French braid that even incorporated her bangs in a way that kept most of it from her face.

“I didn’t know you knew how to style hair…” she murmured, unsure why she was even saying the thought aloud.

“It’s…uh, not common knowledge. However, I’ve always loved to play with my mother’s hair since I was little. I picked up a few techniques,” he kept his eyes diverted from her face, the tops of his ears turning as red as Ladybug’s suit. He finally cleared his throat and crossed his arms behind his back.

“Put the hood and glasses on, then we’ll get out of here.” Felix instructed gently.

Marinette did so, feeling a bit ridiculous in the giant hoodie and bug-eyed glasses. A giggle bubbled up her throat and Felix looked at her as if silently questioning the sound. “How do I look?” She held up the overly long sleeves to either side like tentacle appendages, popping out a hip as she posed. He raised a contemplative hand to cover his lips and chin, his eyes wandered down her body, lingering on her exposed legs for a long moment before trailing back up to her face.

The blond chuckled and adopted a falsetto to his voice, “In the words of Bourgeois: ‘ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!’” They both broke into quiet laughter.

“No one would ever expect to see me wearing this!”

“Exactly why I chose it,” he smiled smugly. “Now, come. We have quite the walk ahead of us.”

“Wait…where are we going? Aren’t I just going home?” She asked in confusion, joining him by the door.

“You said it yourself: they know where you live, and I highly doubt they will stop at your front door just because you say ‘no.’ The whole class saw how one-track minded they were. Plus, you can’t chance enthralling anyone else. The most obvious solution is that you come home with me. You’ve already looked into my eyes and they certainly won’t come looking for you there.”

“But I…” the bluenette paused, unable to see a flaw in his logic. He was right. No one had ever been to his house and, besides herself and the school administration, no one else would even know Felix’s address. Besides he was already hit and seemed unaffected – perhaps he was immune? Contemplating the boy’s face a little more, she was unsure why he of all people would be unaltered by the akuma’s power. Perhaps he was aromantic or something? Would one’s sexual identity even prevent an akuma’s abilities from taking hold when nothing else seemed to? This required further study… “Alright then. Lead the way.”

~~~

They made it out of the building and down the front steps without an issue, a chance encounter having proven Felix’s hypothesis that blocking her eyes with dark sunglasses would prevent them from becoming enthralled after they bumped into another student coming around a corner too quickly. They had both made an audible sigh of relief after the student had stalked off in a huff. Once on the street, the blond grabbed her hand and pulled her in close to his side. Marinette had questioned it – no, she would not admit that she was blushing because he was holding her hand! – but he had simply explained that they could not risk them getting separated in her current state. Logical.

They had walked about two kilometers from the school when they came across a gaggle of people that seemed to be arguing the finest points of a terrified looking young man. Felix tried to give them a wide berth but, in a hot second, the argument became a shoving match. A dark-haired man was shoved hard enough that he stumbled back into Marinette, dislodging the glasses from her face and knocking her to the ground. While Felix was distracted pushing the man away, the bluenette was looking frantically around for the glasses – catching sight of them as a man in a leather jacket across the street was also caught by her gaze.

“Oh no,” the designer cried as she frantically shoved back on the glasses and attempted to get to her feet – only to find her ankle had twisted in the fall. She was helpless on the ground as the man was quickly approaching. She had to get Felix out of here before he could get hurt! “Felix! Go, run!” The blond, having finally dealt with the argumentative idiots from before, turned and caught sight of the approaching figure. However, instead of attempting to get away, he took up a defensive stance in front of the young designer.

“Hey Baby, how about we go back to my place?” Asked the leather clad man.

“She’s NOT your baby,” growled the blond, the tone making her heart race.

“Not yet but she will be. Come on, Baby, I’ll show you a good time,” laying on the cocky smarm rather thickly.

She watched in horror as Felix balled up a fist. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

“Oh yeah, tough guy? Let’s see how you—” the man never finished the sentence for, almost faster than the blink of an eye, her blond protector swung two quick punches. First to the man’s stomach, winding him, and then a right hook that knocked the cocksure man right out. She blinked, amazed at how efficiently he had resolved the fight. He glared down as if waiting to see if the man would wake and, when sure he was out cold, turned a worried countenance back towards Marinette.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, offering her the same hand that had just been used to defend her, long fingers now relaxed and extended as if presenting her a treasure. Something about his seamless transition from protector to caregiver brought a warm fluttery feeling to her stomach. She took the hand and wobbled on one good leg as she hopped back onto her feet.

“No, I must have twisted my ankle when that other guy bumped into me. I can’t put any weight on it.” Marinette winced as she demonstrated.

Felix sighed, turned away, and stooped down slightly. “Come on, hop on.”

The young designer blinked, ‘Does he…. want to give me a piggyback ride?’ He motioned with one of his hands to hurry up. ‘Wow, I guess so.’ Carefully placing her hands on his shoulders, she slid in close enough for him to cup behind her knees and effortlessly lifted them both to his feet. He bounced twice, resettling her weight between his hands – his palms now pressed against the back of her bare thighs. His thumb softly rubbed up against her hiked up skirt hem for a moment and they both froze. Marinette’s face instantly heated up but she silently thanked Tikki that Felix could not see her over his shoulder at this moment.

He cleared his throat roughly, “Are you comfortable?”

“Y-yes, thank you…” came her bashful reply.

“Good, th-that’s good.” Felix cleared his throat again, “Right. On our way again.”

“Um, Felix? If you don’t mind me asking…where did you learn that back there?”

“…I learned karate when I was young at my father’s behest,” he simply stated.

“Ah! And here I was worried the akuma’s power might somehow make people better at fighting or something,” she giggled softly against his shoulder. She could hear him softly chuckle in response, the awkward intensity of the moment finally dissipating as they drifted into companionable silence.

~~~

The rest of the walk was (thankfully) uneventful – even if she did get a bit flustered when his hands gently squeezed her thighs occasionally. Marinette knew it was likely to help with blood flow so his fingers would not go numb under her weight, but she couldn’t logically explain the little electric jolts that went up her spine whenever his thumbs drew lazy circles against her exposed skin. Felix had carried her without complaint the rest of the way and she now found herself comfortably settled on the couch in his family’s quiet apartment. He had switched on the news to keep her entertained while he retrieved a first aid kit and a reusable icepack from the kitchen. The main story was the ongoing akuma battle, which had moved north to the 18th androssiment – nearest the Sacré-Cœur Basilica – and the fight looked intense. Both Scarabella and Chat Noir had had to leave to recharge at some point, but they seemed to be finally gaining the upper hand!

Felix returned with a bowl of warm water, a washcloth, and some first aid supplies. He handed her the icepack and Marinette quickly replaced the instant pack from earlier that had become warm to the touch. He kneeled beside her feet and wet the cloth, then began to carefully dab at her knees. The TV became background noise as the bluenette observed the boy in front of her. He was being unusually kind and gentle with her, never trying to push the boundaries into impropriety or make her uncomfortable. True, the akuma’s effects seemed to make any person enthralled become a tender lover… However, looking back at the reactions of her classmates, it also brought with it a fierce possessiveness and jealousy…which, besides the defensive protection that he demonstrated against the man in the street earlier, Felix did not seem to exhibit. Instead, he had respected her boundaries, giving her as much space as he could with the circumstances being what they were, and dedicated himself to her safety.

The blond rinsed and wrung out the cloth again, edging slightly closer as he leaned in to dab gently at the claw marks beside her eye. The stinging pain had lessened but, if the look in his eyes back in the classroom was any indication, it probably looked worse than it felt. The girl peeked at him through her lowered lashes, attempting to observe his face without being caught. His grey hazel eyes were warm but held a hint of anger in them; his brow was lightly furrowed with concern. ‘Is he worried for me?’ she thought with growing wonder.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Th-thank you, Felix, for everything.”

His lips upturned softly at the edges with his reply. “You’re welcome, I’m just glad I was there to get you out of a tough situation.”

“I…I know you’re probably just being nice to me because of the akuma but…” He paused his ministrations briefly at her words and she noted his lips thinning into a firm line.

She pushed forward with what she was trying to say while fidgeting with her hands, knowing this moment wouldn’t last after the miraculous cure but wanting to communicate clearly what was on her heart. “I really appreciate the thoughtfulness and help you’ve given me today. Everyone else turned violently possessive and you’ve been nothing but respectful. I don’t know if it’s just that each person reacts differently under the influence of the akuma’s powers or what but… I-I know we’re not exactly friends either. However, I’m really glad you were here for me, Felix.” The bluenette raised her eyes to meet his, smiling sweetly. “I mean it, thank you.”

Grey hazel eyes seemed to bore into bluebells for a moment, strange emotions seeming to dance within them. He set down the cloth and took her hands in his own. Felix opened his mouth to say something but hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Marinette, I…”

“I know, it’s weird. I wonder why you didn’t have the same reaction or behaviors as the others,” the girl interrupted him as he hesitated again. They stared at each other in silence for a moment when, all of a sudden, a wave of ladybugs flitted around them before disappearing. Her knees and hands were still scuffed up, those injuries having happened before she was hit by the akuma, but her sprained wrist and rolled ankle were fully healed. Felix’s eyes searched her face, one of his hands gently cupping her cheek while his thumb rubbed over the place where her scratches had once been. The bluenette realized his eyes still held something tender and sweet in them, which exalted and confused her. He should have been freed from the influence with the cure!

“You want to know what made me different?” The blond asked softly, his lips quirked up with a smirk. She nodded into his palm as she stared into his eyes curiously. He raised her other hand in his and pressed a delicate, lingering kiss to the back of her knuckles, which caused a blush to form across her cheek bones. His eyes never left hers.

“That’s my secret, Marinette: I was already in love with you.”

[littlesparklight]

Which of your designs do you think has evolved the most?

Ohh, fun question!

Though my answer will probably be a little boring, because there's not really that much difference even in the designs that have had some evolution. I just get an idea in my head and in the first art work out the details and then they're pretty... set?

But here;

The absolute first art I made of these three, using one of those templates. They were designed together, for visual contrast. If they weren't, Paris might've had dark hair and sometimes I waver about changing it but I keep not doing it.

About the third art I did with these three, together or not. Paris got his upswept front in the second one, so this isn't the very first art for him with that hairstyle, but it gives an idea of how quickly I abandoned the simpler fringe/front part of his hair. (It was partially to visually differentiate him from Ganymede more, even if they don't share a hair colour.)

In the end, Helen's design is definitely the one that has had most evolution, though only in the face, really!

The very latest art; she's ended up with a lot more defined/curvy facial features, though it's "just" a development of what was there from the start. Her nose, too, has gone through some tweaking, but not much.

She's also gotten quite a bit taller - my initial idea had her and Menelaos both around 173 cm thereabouts, because I did like them being a similar height but both taller than Paris. By now however, she's 188 cm (which is still the shortest among demigods, the ones that I've given heights to range between 190-200 cm). Menelaos has gained a bit of height too, but only a couple cm. Paris is the only one who kept his height as-is. I thought it silly and kind of dumb that when I'd decided that all demigods are markedly taller than non-demigod mortals, that Helen should be so much shorter. At her original height she was certainly tall for a regular woman (especially Bronze Age-wise), but it was way shorter than all the (male) demigods. So I boosted her up to be a couple cm shorter than the "average" shortest height a male demigod has so far been and that feels much more in line with my own worldbuilding/headcanon!

(Also, tall Helen supremacy!!!)