#paperskirts

“Wow,” Alya mouths soundlessly, like the air is too scarce to support speech. Marinette understands; it’s the dress. The dress has black holes that suck in colors and light and air, and there just isn’t enough for you.

“Yeah, I know,” Marinette whispers. It’s not conceit. She knows - in the same way Alya knows, in the same way the other students whose steps stutter as they walk by know - this dress is something otherworldly. A full-length dress taken in from a tapestry of stars, white-beaded constellations, sheer galaxies with bright nuclei of skin, a cape like wings dyed violet-black with space. Marinette runs her hand down the dress form, her fingers catching on tulle and three days’ worth of embroidery. She traces her favorite, a planet with an encircling ring that separates out into darkness.

- At the Dawn of Day by @paperskirts -

His eyes soften as he takes in the dress in its entirety. “It’s beautiful. You’ve really outdone yourself. But,” he says as he stares at the lemon and orange appliques and blossoms growing up like vines into the torso. “Weren’t you going with a space theme for the collection?”

Distantly, she recalls the bitter flavor of ground asteroids and the spicy sting of sparking galaxies, but it’s overpowered with sweet oranges and sour lemons and honey blossoms and the cotton candy of bright spring colors. Once upon a time, she must have known what space tasted like, but that in itself feels like a myth. “Yes,” she says slowly. “I guess I forgot. But isn’t this dress wonderful? It popped into my head, and I couldn’t not make it. Do you know what I mean?”

- At the Dawn of Day by @paperskirts

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOANNA!!!!!! I hope your day is as wonderful as you are!! I hope you know how much you are loved and appreciated Joanna!! It’s only fair considering all the love you give! Endless hugs and kisses for you today and everyday! Cx

“Her fingers type it out idly. Angel . Glaring beacons of light and babies on clouds. She looks back at him, swaddled in his blanket, falling asleep while sitting up. It’s the closest she’s seen yet. In small ways, he’s like the children photoshopped with wings, all to do with long lashes and messy curly hair and nothing to do with the wings on his back.”

–

@paperskirts mentioned that the previous drawing I posted looked like it was from a children’s storybook so I decided to keep it that way. 

Oh, he swallows, this is what I was waiting for.

Even as his eyes water - the world sharpening and blurring in cycles, awashed in her refreshing blue - he takes her offered hand, unable to say anything with grief and realization lodged firmly in his throat.

He wonders if love is like death. Gradual and then suddenly there.

--

Marinette wakes up to fingers running down her cheeks. She peers through sleepy eyes at a face so soft with fondness her breath hitches. They lie side by side in the closet, face to face in his nest. Their hands are intertwined between them, which doesn’t seem terribly odd until Marinette remembers her hands are bare. She feels a fluttering of warmth, like a chick perched in the gap between their palms. 

At the Dawn of Day by @paperskirts