#designs and years are subject to change since I’m still writing this

[leonisloresmith]

The nobles of the Coronet Highlands, circa 1803 (20~ years ago)

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 14

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: Nothing for this chapter

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha​ @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @elizabetharegina @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos   @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @happydistraction @hannah9921 @valacircareads

Masterlist

A/N: I'm sorry I'm so late with answering comments but I will as soon as I have a little more time 🖤

Day 176

Leah was down for chow before anyone else, having not slept much that night. Sheʼd heard Sy give the boys the typical “lights out at sundown or risk getting sniped” speech followed by a new addition of “Corporal Colemanʼs room is off limits to everyone”.

She’d brought her sketchbook down with her, desperately needing something to focus all her nervous energy into. It seemed to have worked because she didn't notice Niki walk in until he sat on the bench beside her.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Niki bumped his knee against hers under the table, not wanting to risk any sort of half hug with the soldiers slowly filtering into the hall.

“No harm done, I promise.”

His reassuring smile helped convince her that there was indeed no harm done—well, not for him at least. The harm to her… relationship was still to be seen.

Leah flipped to the back of her book, tearing a blank page out and handing it and a pencil to Niki. As she turned back to the drawing sheʼd been working on, Niki caught a glimpse of the picture of Leah and Caleb that she had taped inside the front cover. 

“You heard from Caleb lately?”

“Not since he started his residency.”

They both turned their focus to their pages. The act of working side by side with only casual chatter was comfortably familiar. They’d done it many times when she was a teenager.

“I can’t believe I call him more than you do.”

“I don’t want him to worry,” Leah said by means of explanation.

“You mean, you don’t want to be reminded of how much you miss him.”

It seemed that in the years since she’d last seen Niki, Leah had forgotten that he could sniff out her lies like a damn bloodhound. And that he wasn’t afraid to call her on her bullshit.

“How’s your mom?”

Niki sighed but accepted the change of subject. Chow hall was not the best place for long, emotional conversations.

“Same as always, asking me how I’m going to give her grandbabies if I’m halfway around the world,” he paused, looking up at Leah’s profile. “She misses you.”

Leah smiled to herself. Her head tipped to the side as she shaded the moth she’d been working on for the past week, trying to make it perfect. It was the same basic design as the one she’d drawn on Sy but with a level of detail she couldn’t accomplish with just sharpies.

“I miss her too. You think she’d mind if I stopped by if I ever get back?”

Niki didn’t like that she was saying if she ever got back. He hoped it was just because it had been so long since she’d been stateside

“Are you kidding? She’d love it. She’ll take one look at you and drop everything to cook you a decent meal. What the hell are they doing to you out here, anyway, you’re all skinny.” He poked Leah’s ribs as if to emphasize his point.

“That’s because Coleman refuses to go easy on the training even when she almost dies.”

Jer fell onto the bench across from Leah, making the whole table shake. Leah snapped her sketchbook shut before he could recognize the design as being the same one she’d drawn on the captain.

“I’m sorry,” a frown fell over Niki’s face, “how frequently do you almost die for this to be a habit?”

The other boys gathered around Leah, Ethan and Benjie taking a seat on either side of Jer and Rohan sitting on Leah’s right.

“We have to save her ass at least once a week,” Ethan answered.

“It’s exhausting,” Rohan added.

“You guys suck, you know that?”

Niki laughed, setting his pencil down on the half finished image of some robot or another. A few men from his platoon joined him while others found seats wherever there was room.

“A little sensitive, are we?” a cute blond private said. “Whatʼs wrong, are your menses making you irritable?”

Leah was about to give him a very unladylike response but Niki spoke in her place.

“Nah, this is just her default level of bitchy. You’ll get used to it.”

“Oh yeah? And how would you know that?”

“Because I’ve known Leah a long fucking time and the day she got her IUD and stopped getting periods it was like a weight was lifted off of all of our shoulders. She’s mean when she’s PMS-ing.”

“As opposed to how mean she is at any other time of the month?” Benjie quipped.

“Okay, first, fuck all of you. Second, you really wanna play that game, Niki, then we can talk about summer break oh-five.”

He immediately shut his mouth, his next words dying on his lips. 

“That’s what I thought,” Leah smirked.

Niki’s boys started asking about the logistics of the upcoming op while Reynolds dropped by long enough to inform her that Sy had ordered that she get a follow-up check before being cleared for field duty. Her gaze instinctively found the man in question.

It seemed that even with new men at the base he hadn’t changed his habits, sporting shorts and a faded red t-shirt. Aika walked into the room ahead of him, taking a lap with her nose pressed to the ground. It was unfortunate that she was born a stray rather than at some breeder out in the States. She would have made one hell of a bomb dog.

Sy’s intense blue eyes flickered between Leah and Niki, studying them. Leah wished that for once she would be able to read his expression.

“So how do you know Leah?” Benjie asked after they’d all gotten their food and settled back around the table.

“I met her brother Caleb in my second year of junior high. Unfortunately for me, him and this pain in the ass were a package deal.”

“Caleb, that’s the doctor right?” Ethan directed his question to Leah.

“Yeah, I’ve only got the one brother.”

“Huh… The way you act sometimes makes it seem like you were raised in a house full of boys.”

Niki didn’t miss the way Leah looked down at her lap, chewing her bite more than strictly necessary as a way of buying herself time.

The pair shared a subtle look, Niki giving a slight shake of his head. Leah knew exactly what he was trying to ask. Don’t they know? Leah answered with a barely there shake of her own. No, they don’t.

“Her house was where we all used to hang out. Gage was a second father to all Caleb’s friends.”

Luckily, the guys didn’t notice the unspoken exchange, too focused on their breakfast.

“I better get to medical. Wish me luck.”

“Na, you don’t need luck. I’ve seen Reynolds check out your ass. If he doesn’t clear you, a quick blowie will change his mind.”

Leah kicked Jer under the table, standing to clean up her tray and her sketchbook.

“I’ll meet you in the tent when I’m done.”

The exercise tent was buzzing with activity. Normally there was more than enough room for everyone to do their own thing but now, Sy actually found himself having to wait his turn or use lighter weights just to get things over with.

As he spotted Pepps on the bench press, his eyes roamed over the new arrivals. They were a decent looking bunch. Young and fit but not so much so that their inexperience was a major concern. Energetic but not undisciplined. Confident but not cocky.

Their lieutenant stood by the chin-up bar, his arms crossed over his chest as he chatted with Benjie while Ethan and Jeremiah competed to see who could hold the longest with their chin above the bar.

Pepps finished his set, setting the bar back in place without any help from Sy. He didn’t really need a spot but it gave Sy an excuse to stand and stare.

They traded places, Sy stretching out onto his back and taking hold of the bar. Sy stared at a small tear in the roof of the tent as he absent-mindedly brought the weight down to his chest before pushing it back up again.

There were about a million things to do before the op. They needed a full inventory of supplies and ammunition, the humvees needed maintenance, plans needed to be finalized and a briefing needed to be held to make sure everyone knew their role.

Having not kept count at all, Sy used the burn of his muscles to determine when to stop. With the bar safely back on the rack, he quickly stood, liberating the bench for the next person in line.

He was almost ready to call it a day but he still needed to do a few sets of squats. As he approached the stack of plates in the corner, Niki pulled his shirt up, wiping the sweat from his face.

“Woah, that’s some serious ink you’ve got there,” Connors said.

The Lieutenant looked up with a raised brow, almost seeming to ask if the comment was indeed directed towards him. 

“You mean my back?” 

When Connors nodded in confirmation, Niki removed his shirt, turning away so the other man could get a closer look.

Though Sy had never really been a fan of tattoos, he still found himself studying the man’s back like the others around them.

“I've seen that before,” he said without thinking and to no one in particular.

When Connors got called away and the others lost interest, Niki shrugged his shirt back on, turning to face Sy.

“That’s not surprising, Cerberus is a pretty well known mythological creature.”

“No, I mean I’ve seen that exact design before.”

It took a moment but it eventually clicked. Leah’s sketchbook. He’d seen that design in her sketchbook in her second month on base.

“It’s hers, isnʼt it?”

No one else was within ears reach but he still refrained from saying Leahʼs name. The younger man looked almost surprised but nodded anyway.

“Yeah, I went to her guy. He reworked her drawing to make sure it would look good and age well but thatʼs about it. I’d have asked her to do it herself but she ended up enlisting and giving up her apprenticeship.”

Though Leah had said her decision to enlist was for the best, it felt like lately she spent every spare second bent over her sketchbook. It made him wonder whether she was truly happy or whether she was having second thoughts.

Sy picked up his weights moving to the side where he wouldn’t be in the way. For some reason he thought it would sound more like a casual conversation than a fishing expedition if he was doing something else at the same time.

“How many people has she made tattoos for?”

Niki chose a pair of dumbbells and took up position next to Sy, both men facing the room rather than each other.

“Just me and herself, I think. She doesnʼt really take requests or anything itʼs more like… Like her drawings are her diary. If something or someone is on her mind, she draws. The more worried she is the more she draws. Or she works out. She made mine right before I left for OCS.”

“Guess that explains why sheʼs so damn secretive with that book of hers. She fucking drags it everywhere since she got shot last month but she threatened to stab Jer with a fork if he tried to open it.”

He really wanted to know what was eating at her. Well, he already knew, but he wanted to know how she felt about what had happened that night. 

Niki dropped his weight, turning to face Sy.

“Wait, you mean she actually did almost die? I thought the guys were just fucking with her.”

Sy paused for a moment, reliving the night all over again.

“It definitely qualified as near-death but luckily she came out of it with only a concussion and some fucked up ribs.”

“Shit.”

As if summoned, Leah walked into the tent, pausing at the entrance as she looked for her team. They found her first, huddling around her and impatiently awaiting to hear the verdict of her check-up. By the sounds of it, sheʼd been cleared, earning her a round of high-fives from the men.

Niki sat down, brushing a hand through his hair. It was freshly trimmed but it looked like he kept it about at the maximum length they were allowed. Not that anyone at Warhorse would give him shit if he stayed long enough for it to grow out.

After finishing his second set, Sy joined the man on the ground.

“The moth makes more sense now.”

Sy was so focused on Leah that he almost didnʼt hear the off handed comment.

“What?”

Niki looked up from where he was busy fixing the laces on his boots.

“Nothing, itʼs just a hunch. She was drawing a moth earlier. Typically they sort of mean rebirth, new beginnings, stuff like that. Or maybe she just thought it looked cool and I’m looking for meaning where there is none.”

“Right.” Or it could mean the guy she drew a moth on had basically tried to jump her bones while she was half out of it with a concussion. “What does a three-headed dog mean?”

“Protection. Or, in Leah speak, ‘you better not fucking die on usʼ. She texted me the picture on the day I left. It wasn’t meant to be a tattoo but I liked the idea of having something watching my back out here, you know?”

Us. That fit with his claim from the night before that he knew Leah through her brother. And if Leah was an ex then he probably wouldn’t have wanted a permanent reminder of her etched into his skin, but that didn’t mean neither of them had ever wanted more. He was a few years older than Leah. Maybe he’d gone off to OCS before they ever got a chance to try and be together.

“Yo LT, you got a minute?”

Niki sighed, putting his weights away. “Duty calls. Iʼll let the boys know weʼre briefing at fifteen hundred.”

Chapter 15

[wcbweblog]

WELCOME!

WHAT IS ‘WHAT COULD BE WORTH ETERNITY,?

What Could Be Worth Eternity?, or wcbwe for short, is an art/storytelling project of mine! I currently have a comic (very early stage) in-the-works, as well as some writing and other art pieces. In short, wcbwe is what I call the original universe that holds a number of stories and characters I want to share!

OH, SO THIS BLOG IS FOR THAT COMIC?

………not exactly, unfortunately. The comic is still very early in its production, and as the only person working on it, progress is slow going. I think taking the extra time will be worth it in the end, but I’m biased lol. As it stands, this blog is not specifically for the comic in the works, but when I am ready to start posting pages, this is where it’ll happen!

…ALRIGHT. THEN WHAT IS THE POINT OF THIS BLOG? WHY THE COUNTDOWN, IF THE BIG PROJECT ISN’T GOING TO BE READY FOR A WHILE?

Wait, countdown? For anyone who doesn’t know, for about two months, I was doing a… daily, countdown on my main blog, and it ended today, 2023.08.28, the day this blog goes up.

To be honest – the countdown wasn’t for this. In fact I’m writing out this lil intro post the day it’s supposed to go up while at work haha! I am incredibly unprepared. The countdown was to something at work (that never ended up happening, to my knowledge), I think we were supposed to do some sort of… media blackout? Like I said, it didn’t happen, so it doesn’t really matter. But, well, a couple of my moots saw the countdown and got curious, and I thought ‘well I should do something on tumblr, too!’. So here we are. Art blog! Yup, this is an art (and sometimes writing) blog centered around the wcbwe universe. Right now the plan is to update every Monday, but that’s subject to change because I have no clue what my uni schedule is yet XD

YEAH YEAH COOL. GO BACK TO THAT COMIC FOR A MINUTE?

Ah yes. The comic. My pride and joy, should I actually manage to stick with the project. Like I said, it’s still very early in its production; only the prologue and first chapter have been scripted, and only half the prologue has been storyboarded. And it’s going to be a very long comic, so that’s not a lot. I’d prefer to have the whole thing, or almost the whole thing, storyboarded before I start making pages. If you want an estimate? I’d say it’ll be about a year or more before I can start posting pages.

OKAY, SO IF YOU WEREN’T PREPARED TO START THIS BLOG, WHY DO IT?

Well, there’s no time like the present! I need somewhere to organize my thoughts and concepts for the universe, story, and characters, and I’m hoping having a dedicated blog might motivate me to sort out my ideas haha.

*INSERT FANCY LIL PROGRESS BAR HERE*

Wow! What was the progress again? Not to worry! I’ll keep the progress updated here :]

scripted up to chapter 4

21/? pages storyboarded

0/? pages completed

IF THIS IS AN ART BLOG, WHAT KIND OF ART WILL YOU BE POSTING?

In short, anything wcbwe related! Digital art, traditional art, short writing things, animations, concept art, storyboard sketches, etc. etc. Anything I make that has to do with the wcbwe universe will end up on here eventually! Not all of it will be Quality Art TM lol

ALRIGHT, BUT WHAT’S THE STORY ABOUT?

I don’t want to get too into spoilers, especially since I don’t have most of the plot ironed out yet. Up until the comic’s production is further along, the main focus here will be on worldbuilding and designs. With that said – you might be able to put together pieces of the plot with the art provided! I’ve got a couple big pieces coming up that have some kinda major spoilers. I just don’t want to actually talk about the plot things until I know what I’m doing. With that in mind, some art might end up getting retconned in the final production. Though, there’ll be a liiiiiiiitle plot sneak peak at the end of this post. Very small :p (it comes with art!)

ASKS ARE WELCOME!

Idk haha, if you’ve got anything to say, or any questions, drop an ask! It might take me some time to answer or I might want to save it for whatever reason, but I’ll answer eventually! Oh – asks are exempt from the Monday Updates btw! I’ll answer them whenever I answer them :3

…oh yeah I should probably mention. C a t s. (also tags are in the. tags-)

Without further ado – welcome to What Could Be Worth Eternity? Let’s dive in.

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Arceli dies.

And then she doesn’t.

[kryptonitecore]

Reread: The Transformers (2009), #1-4

This comic really wants you to know that Spike Witwicky fucks, and I hate that.

We’ve gone from Furman to McCarthy to Mike Costa, who, as TFWiki points out, was at one point the third most prolific author in the Transformers canon, writing more than thirty issues. He would eventually be outstripped by later writers like Barber and Roberts, but I think I really underestimated just how much of IDW1 Costa actually wrote.

We have another time jump, this time to either two or three years into the future after Megatron’s defeat. I’m slightly wobbly on exactly how long it has been, since the comics themselves waver back and forth. Costa begins with his version of Optimus, who is very verbose… if in a slightly unfortunate way. No to be juvenile, but when you put together phrases like ‘reduced, in our impotence, to naked hope’ I can only assume you are doing it deliberately.

The art is similarly interesting, as Don Figueroa began to opt for Bayverse-inspred designs, which appear in several issues. I’m not a huge fan of that, though it does perhaps indicate who they are aiming this comic towards. A slight quirk in the art of the human characters, meanwhile, is that they often look kind of sleepy, with their eyes half-lidded. That, or they have a sort of resting sneer.

Characterisation with Costa is extremely variable. In some cases he picks up right where Shane McCarthy left off and builds from there, for example with Thundercracker, but with others he takes characters in a completely different direction. I think the most obvious example of this here is Prowl. In one of the first scenes, Prowl sees that Breakdown is potentially about to be captured or killed by Skywatch, Spike Witwicky’s anti-Cybertronian task force. Morally outraged, Prowl impulsively rushes in, breaking cover and disobeying orders to try and help the Decepticon, eventually getting captured for his trouble. Now, character interpretation is subjective, but this is coming after Furman’s strict Prowl, McCarthy’s embattled Prowl in All Hail Megatron, and the introduction of Nick Roche’s cynical, pragmatic version. Not only is this pretty out of character by any of those standards, it’s just kind of a confusing move - there were so many other Autobot characters who could have done something like this more believably, but it ends up being Prowl for some reason.

Ironhide is killed off very early on, so new readers probably would not have had much time to develop an attachment to him, and his backstory with Optimus was only filled out in one of the coda stories at the end of All Hail Megatron.

Speaking of Optimus… Wow, is Costa’s Optimus Prime not working for me at the moment. He’s combining a lot of verbose narration with some very high-handed actions and overall the character seems sort of clueless, vague, and oddly indifferent to the wellbeing of his own faction. I presume that Costa was interested in exploring the idea of a martyr complex and I honestly don’t mind that angle at all, but here the character seems to view himself as beholden to humans to a weird degree, even defecting to Skywatch. I know that Costa was interested in a human-focused storyline, but it’s really kind of jarring to see the character change so abruptly.

This isn’t helped by the fact that a lot of the Cybertronians in general, not even just the Autobots, come across as a bit hapless and are pretty easily captured by small teams of humans with some advanced technology, when only two or three years prior the US military was so incapable of fighting the Decepticons that other countries were preparing nuclear countermeasures. The time-skip helps make this more plausible and characters like Breakdown are presumably not in good condition, but it’s still a massive turnaround that takes place off-page. Regardless of these technological surges, Optimus is portrayed as feeling intensely guilty and somewhat pitying towards humanity, even as Skywatch begins attacking and abducting Autobots, including Prowl. And that’s a thing! Optimus seems weirdly complacent about Prowl being captured, despite the fact that Skywatch were actively trying to kill a fleeing Breakdown and, say, what the Machination did with Sunstreaker. I think perhaps Costa was so focused on developing Optimus’ relationship with the human characters that any sort of loyalty or camaraderie or concern about the second in command being kidnapped is framed as an overreaction. Certainly, Hot Rod/Rodimus is painted as impulsive and over-emotional, even as Optimus abdicates and defects, abandoning his faction in a crisis situation, because he feels really bad, you guys. The problem is that I don’t know if the irony is intentional or not.

Ironhide’s comments really don’t help in that scene, as he is written with a very condescending tone: ‘You did the right thing, Prime. Make the kid [Hot Rod] feel like he’s doing something’. Keep in mind, this is in response to Hot Rod taking a team to rescue Prowl… The apparently shocking revelation that the humans are willing to use lethal weaponry against them (despite the fact that they have killed and abducted multiple Transformers by this point?) results in Ironhide taking a shot for Hot Rod and dying. To be honest, it didn’t have a ton of impact on me, especially as it felt rather hurried. Apparently, Costa wanted to kill of Bumblebee, but Hasbro refused, so Ironhide was substituted in. Initially, I thought that Ironhide’s death was going to be used as a sort of ‘punishment’ for Hot Rod for not listening to Optimus, especially given the emphasis those panels put on the fact that Ironhide died protecting him and his reaction afterwards. However, in the following issues it didn’t seem to head in that direction at all. If anything, it helped to speed up Hot Rod’s alienation from the Autobot hierarchy. Also, a lot of characters call Hot Rod ‘kid’ in this, despite the character not being younger than them in this canon. It’s minor, but the character is written to be particularly immature here in a way I don’t think some fans would appreciate.

The strongest moments of these issues probably come in the one focused on Thundercracker, which I don’t particularly like, yet I suspect is the most competent bit of writing. Between this and ‘Heavy Lies the Head’, perhaps this is an indication that Costa fared better with character-focused issues? However, I didn’t enjoy the slower pace as much as I could have, as one of the chief complaints about the Costa run overall is that it is very decompressed, essentially not a lot happening in each issue and some arguably wasteful uses of limited panel space throughout. As a result, this feels like a slow issue among already slow issues, rather than a change of speed. 

Costa leans heavily into the change of heart for Thundercracker that McCarthy began, really developing his appreciation for humanity and Earth into something more philosophical and personal, a choice that would influence the character’s portrayal for the rest of the continuity. Nevertheless, I don’t love it, as I feel that his internal narration relies on a few too many faulty premises (the Decepticons were incapable of wiping out humanity, Transformers are a static and unchanging species, lacking in personal development, that Earth is the first time that Thundercracker has had an opportunity to appreciate beauty). Ultimately, I think that Costa turns the very internal process of Thundercracker reevaluating his life and then focuses that outwards… But it ends up going in the direction of putting humanity and the Earth at the centre of everything in a way that feels a little self-aggrandising. It feels like it flattens the Cybertronian characters (and any other alien species that are portrayed later) in favour of the human ones, I suppose.

Speaking of flattening, this is a minor bugbear, but IDW1 in this period had a bit of a fixation on ‘brothers’. Characters use the word a lot in dialogue: talking about literal brothers, members of their faction, members of their team, particular friends, and even just anyone with a similar frame type to them. I don’t like it because it’s used to so many times and in so many contexts that it starts to lack any meaning, effectively just flattening social dynamics between specific characters to very broad, boring ideas of loose alliance. Costa also makes a point of having several characters fail to understand idioms, despite the fact that it hasn’t really been a problem in previous comics, which further helps to make their speech seem formal and distant. See also: Optimus Prime’s voice.

This is also my first extended look at Spike Witwicky under a new writer and it’s not great. Thing is, I think there were ways Spike could have been a much more interesting or sympathetic character than he has ended up being so far, even keeping this general shape.  They clearly wanted a more action-hero-esque version of the character, so they aged him up, made him and his father military, had him be incredibly central to the plot and way more adversarial… Yet you also cannot tell me that Costa was not writing him to be obnoxious on purpose. I think wish fulfilment is the only explanation I can think of, that Spike was intended for certain readers to project themselves onto. Hence the insistence on the fact that Spike fucks. And drives a cool car. And is really muscular. And is in a super prestigious position with authority yet does whatever he wants, regardless of the consequences. And the frequent references to incredibly non-specific problems with his father.

Swindle does have good finger guns, though.

[ana-chronista]

🖤💉✈️⭐️🌺 please? :)

Thank you for the asks!

🖤 favorite hobbies outside of your blog Writing is a big one (of course), as is reading. Tolkien and Terry Pratchett are both favourites of mine, and more recently I’ve been reading a few books by Emily St. John Mandel and would definitely recommend them! I’ve been gaming for years, especially RPGs. I’m currently getting started on another playthrough of Stardew Valley (because really you’re never done with that game and this is my ‘evil’ playthrough) and trying out the Final Fantasy VII remake. I’d like to get back into jewellery making, it’s been a while since I’ve had the time (and space!) for it but it’s nice to do something creative that’s a bit different. 💉do you have tattoos and/or piercings A couple of ear piercings. No tattoos (yet? Never say never!) but mainly because I haven’t ever been able to decide on one particular design to stick to! ✈️ favorite place you’ve travelled New Zealand! I travelled around both islands for a few weeks several years ago and absolutely loved it. A couple of things I’d recommend:

The Waitomo Cave on the North Island is very famous, but my favourite of the three around there was actually the Ruakuri Cave; we had a guide who had worked on the excavations and was really passionate about the subject, so it was really interesting. You can also go black water rafting through it!

Obviously lots of Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit related tours are on offer, and as a Tolkien fan I enjoyed that. Of all of it though, the Weta Workshop near Wellington where the props etc. were made was the best, and it’s fascinating to see how all these special effects are achieved for TV/film even if you’re not big on Tolkien as they cover a lot of different projects.

The penguin sanctuary at Dunedin, especially learning about the inter-penguin dramas going on!

Overall though just a really lovely place to visit – it’s a beautiful country and everyone seemed very friendly and laidback (at least compared to where I come from, so it was a good change of pace).

The other two are a bit longer so I placed them under a cut...

⭐️ what is one of your biggest accomplishments? Why is it so important to you? I was the first person in my family to go to uni. Lots of people have that same achievement, but for me personally it meant so much because I’d worked so hard for it and still had really strong doubts I’d ever manage it. I definitely wouldn’t be the same person today without it because of the self-confidence it gave me, and for me personally it was definitely one of the best things I’ve ever done. 🌺 what is the best gift someone has ever given you and why is it so important This is very random, and something very normal, but a towel turban. It was a Christmas present from my SO a few years ago – we’d been together all of five minutes, and what do you buy for someone when you’re still getting to know them? I hadn’t actually seen these before but after a conversation about why I always wrapped my hair in a heavy towel after a shower, my SO went and researched and found one for me as a surprise. It was just something really lovely and thoughtful because I could use it every day, and especially because it came from someone who’s never had long hair nor had anyone in their family with long hair to know about it beforehand. I’m now on towel turban number 3, all gifted by my SO, and still referred to as “the best thing I ever bought you.”

[hoagmaster]

Another Month, Another Sunset

Well I did say I would return to the subject of shows I’ve watched ending since Mario Kart 8 dropped back in 2014, so this is the continuation of that dropped point.

I have watched television animation for as long as I have conscious memories. I grew up with it. I define the stretches of my life based on the big show I watched during each of them: Rugrats, Hey Arnold, SpongeBob SquarePants, The Fairly OddParents, Danny Phantom, The Mighty B!, Gravity Falls, Steven Universe. I was mostly a Nickelodeon kid as you can see, because that was largely the only channel we had around here when I was growing up.

I’ve dabbled in many other shows that aired at the same time as these, but there was always the one I focused on. But each of these shows either ended, whether by its own accord or not, or frankly went to pot and I jumped ship. It was the time when things were stewing in the latter show in 2018 when I decided maybe I’d have my fun elsewhere.

There were several months when I didn’t latch onto any show out of lack of interest, I might say. I watched some but I wouldn’t say I engaged with them. 

That all changed in October 2018, when, at the suggestion of someone I used to know along with a forum I frequented, I checked out Hilda on Netflix. I’d never read the comic it was based on, nor did I have much experience with a show designed for streaming.

But despite all that, I loved it. It felt like a rejuvenation into a medium I’d followed since youth. It opened my eyes to the potential of a series made for an online service.

Perhaps as a way to fill in a void left by season one ending, I decided to see what else I’d missed in my admittedly narrow-minded viewing. This led to my current favorite (remaining) show, Big City Greens.

My slate grew to those two. And then there was She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Carmen Sandiego, Amphibia, Victor and Valentino, Infinity Train, It’s Pony, The Owl House, Glitch Techs, Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts, The Midnight Gospel, Kid Cosmic, Centaurworld, City of Ghosts, Invincible, The Ghost and Molly McGee, Inside Job, Arcane, Tear Along the Dotted Line, Maya and the Three, Dead End: Paranormal Park, Hamster and Gretel, Bee and Puppycat, Pantheon, Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur, Kiff, Hailey’s On It!, and a couple others I’ve checked out some clips of.

Granted, I like some of these shows more than others. I wouldn’t call any of these perfect because with enough time I can find things in each of them that irk me. But I certainly feel I have a stronger awareness of shows that have aired in the past five years than I have for the rest of my life. Gaining a lot more online awareness probably also helps in that regard. I feel like I’m learning more about myself as an artistic person and writer by thinking about these and wanting to write about them.

With the end of Hilda, I feel it also marks the end of an era. Nearly every show I mentioned above has ended, whether by its own terms or not. Some have questionable conclusions, some were cut short, and a handful are ongoing or even just begun. But 2024 will mark the first year in some time where the big show that got me to get further into animation watching will not be on the horizon.

Now, I don’t think Hilda is going away forever. We’ve likely all seen Luke Pearson is already writing a prequel comic. There are more supplemental and side books being released faster than I can keep track of. Most of the shows I mentioned that have ended are still with us in a bevy of ways. With some networks looking for the next big hit they feel content to keep on reminding people about the stuff they already love to keep them engaged. For instance, for all their corporate shenanigans, Disney is doing a good job at keeping people aware of Amphibia.

I think the process of shows going away has been made easier by maintaining a broader range of shows to watch. Even with Hilda finished, I have the remaining episodes of Big City Greens along with the shows that just premiered and have more episodes on the way. Then there are all the upcoming shows that could grab my attention in the ways many of the previously mentioned have.

It does feel bittersweet, knowing we’ve all watched this show and came together for it and may be left wondering where we go now. I regret not engaging with you all more in the past, but who’s to say that can’t change now? At the end of the day, a show like this and many others extend far beyond what’s on the screen.

We’re all here to celebrate a show that we enjoy and that inspires us to create, to tell stories, to meet new people, to reflect on who we are and where we can take ourselves. Looking back, I have mixed feelings on the last season of Danny Phantom, but it was the first show where I talked with folks online about it and looked at fanart and read stories, and it is in this way that I met some of my oldest friends. Some of the most genuine, wonderful people I’ve known for over 15 years. That’s the beauty of an artistic creation like this or any other show.

Looking at the upcoming slate of shows and seeing just a bunch of stuff I don’t recognize does add to the hesitation. It’s easy to think that nothing new could live up and this empty feeling will persist. The strongest sense of “emptiness” I felt recently was when Amphibia ended, but this one is also up there because of what its end brings with it. But looking ahead, who’s to say we won’t all find a show that will enrapture our senses and inspire us the way our past favorites did?

I certainly didn’t think I could move on from Danny Phantom or Gravity Falls or Amphibia at those moments. But with some time, I’ve been able to keep moving forward and find new things that inspired me in all new ways. It may take time, but I think many of us will do the same here.

I’m sure I’ll keep reading the stories, and seeing the fanart, and thinking of my own ideas of stuff to share. To paraphrase Star Trek II, it’s not really gone so long as we remember it.

Here’s to the future, y’all. Cheers.

[rawrtriesagain]

Long post incoming idk how to do Read More on mobile, sorry. Tldr: just a post abt my writing as usual and stuff about my interest in lwa (nothing crazy)

I know I talk abt my old fuckin fics all the fuckin time (like Jesus theyre old enough to be considered toddlers now) but anyway this is my vent blog and y’all will never hear the end of it so guess what still has an absolute GRIP over my mind after 3 years

Its forest of arcan- im jk its dreamer of stars lmaooo. I reread it right now for the funsies after months of forgetting abt it, and each time I read it I think “surely I am over this story and can move on with my life” and like the first half of the story its like yea I kinda am over it haha but then the second half just obliterates the thoughts and runs me over and I just lay in my bed and contemplate my life and go into like a State of Emotions and simply have to talk about it (but it also could be because its 4am at the time of writing this)

I do think it mostly has to do with nostalgia though. Truthfully I’m probably not able to write smth like that again because it was 100% written completely on emotion and quite actually everything bad Diana was feeling in the story was smth i was also going through so it was easy to… write a vent and disguise it as a fic LOL. But I was also running on the high of being in love with my best friend which also really easily translated to everything going on in the fic blah blah nobody remembers it but me so this means nothing to anybody and im being cringe and gay on main (not even my main)

ANYWAY the point of my babbling here is that honestly I miss having that intense amt of emotions that would spur that level of creative writing? Like yea forest of arcana (not updated in over a year) is fun and all but it definitely isnt written on a personal level like dreamer was. I also just genuinely miss writing lol and its like ok bitch why dont you write then and then its like good question why dont i?? I probably still enjoy writing more than i do drawing and i know my blogs say otherwise but the two mediums are both definitely different outlets for my life. Maybe i would change my mind the day my art is actually good tho 😛

Im laffing rn seeing me talk abt this “deep” different outlets of life cause like when u think abt it im also literally just Currently describing little witch fanfic and fanart since thats all i do LOL. Not that theres anything wrong with lwa being my Muse of course, but it just adds humor in whatever the emo hell im going on about

Another side sad mini vent but i dont think im as into lwa as i used to be which also waters down my interests in doing things, but im literally not interested in any other media or fandom rn either so lwa stays my hyperfixation. Plz dont be alarmed lol im not saying im NOT into lwa anymore since diana is still a fuckin god to me like 10/10 chara design and vibes, but its definitely not as strong as it was when i first joined the fandom 3 years ago. And you know what maybe it has to do with me not watching little witch academia in full in those entire three years after i first watched it lmao. Most of the friends ive made in the fandom are pretty much gone too which is sad but is what it is. Sometimes i get a burst of seratonin when i think about smth diakko and definitely like now when i reread my fics i also remember the Emotions i had for these Gays and it like floods back for a bit like a buff.

I think something im very interested in for both the spark of writing and also the revitalization for my love for diakko is that i wanna do like a oneshot slice of life series for diakko. Just something easy, cute, subjectively funny, and a vibe. I still fantasize abt diakko shenanigans even if mundane and i wish i could also capture it more in my art but im not at that level yet, so writing it is. First i probably need to rewatch lwa in full since ive forgotten most everything except for key diana scenes haha oopsie And sucy world episode that was a good fuckin episode.

Anyway thanks for reading this far if you did lol sorry for the LONG ASS NONSENSE POST. Sometimes i see how i type in my blog and to people and compare it to my writing and its like where the hell did my comprehensive english go. Sorry if this was just hard to read from the lack of grammar and punctuation but thats showbiz anyway stay tuned for the next diana content ttyl bffl rofl xD zomg

[vagueandominousvibes]

For the ask game, orchid and chamomile?

Hi! I was hoping someone would say orchid, purely because the one I bought back in October has been blooming since New Year’s!! (It’s got three flowers!!! and one bud still to open!!!)

Orchid ⇢ What’s a song you consider to be perfect?

I’ve got to say ‘Spanish Train’ by Chris de Burgh, who’s the only artist I’ve ever seen live (a friend and I went to see him in uni, were the only 20-something-olds in a horde of 50-and-older, and we had a fantastic time). ‘Spanish Train’ is one of those songs dad and I would blast in the living room after midnight, when we were home alone, or in the car when the speakers were working, and I absolutely love the alternations between the mellow spoken parts and the parts where de Burgh just goes all out. 

The answer to the second question got kind of long, so I’ve hidden it in the ‘Keep reading’.

Chamomile ⇢ What were you like when you were younger? Do you think you’ve changed a lot?

I don’t know how much I’ve talked about it here, but I’ve for a long time been fascinated by how people change. You see it in my own fanfics (Arn’s arc in Just Close Your Eyes) and in some of my favourite novels (Apollo in The Trials of Apollo by Rick Riordan). I’ve also grown up with a gestalt psychotherapist for a parent, which ... yeah. I suspect I was a bit of a lab rat growing up. At least mum used to tell me she studied psychotherapy to Help Me. (In her book, queerness and autism require Help.)

My own fascinating with change comes from, I think, putting a lot of effort into changing myself during my years in uni. For about four years, about fifty percent of my time was spent observing myself, reflecting on my behaviour, and figuring out Who I Was. What I discovered was that Baby Me (0–4) and Young Adult Me (20–25) were surprisingly similar (excited by everyday things, enjoyed crafts and baking, and loved music and aesthetic designs). Baby Me grew up on a small seaside farm above the Polar Circle, and in those four years, I realised I wanted to return to that farm — to live there, nurture it, and run writing retreats there. It’ll take a lot of work to get the finances to do so, but as long as the farm stands, I’ll return there.

But. Change. 

Between Baby Me and Young Adult Me, there’s Teenage Me (5–19, technically ‘Child & Teenage Me’, but ‘Teenage Me’ for ease), and Teenage Me was not a good person. You know the idea of the Narcissistic Family? It’s the closest description I’ve found to explain the dynamics within my family. Teenage Me had an unfortunate obsession with wanting to make mum proud. As a result, I put others down in passive-aggressive ways and sought to make friends with “the right people” (as implicitly defined by mum: rich cis-het people, ideally white Christian). I was the Golden Child who achieved As and A*s in the majority of my subjects in school, I was always right, I was going to write novels, I was going to become a Professor and an artist, and I was going to have a brilliant future. (Ha. Ha ha. /s)

I’m still not sure how much of that was me and how much was mum, and I think that’s the rule for a lot of Teenage Me’s life: I had no idea where I ended and mum started, in terms of dreams, wants, and hopes. Honestly, it’s something I’m still struggling to untangle.

I like to think I’m moving away from my passive-aggressive ways, and that realising that I myself am not one of “the right people” has done wonders towards learning to value people for who they are rather than what they do and what they have. Setting boundaries is another new experience, and good gods it’s hard. Actually learning my own boundaries and being kind to myself is also really goddamn hard, and I’m still trying to figure out where the lines are between trauma bonding and info-dumping and just talking (is this info-dumping? or am I just talking? I’m answering a question and I have no idea). An unholy combination of depression and anxiety hasn’t made it any better.

That said, writing this today, I’m looking forward to the future. It’s raining outside, but I’ve had a clementine, I’m listening to ‘Champions’ by Kurt Hugo Schneider, and in a few hours I’ve got my first ballet class for beginners — something I’ve only recently worked up the courage to attend. I know I’m in my mid-twenties and that I’ve got years to grow and learn ahead of me. One day, I’ll reach a point of grounded self-assuredness. The depression and anxiety might never go away completely, and there are people I doubt will completely forgive me, but that’s part of growing and learning. It is for me to remember that every tree can be transplanted into better soil, and that there’s a sun above.

[bholenathvalsan]

Just Over a Month to Halloween!

How are you doing? Long time no see! Around here things are quite not-same-old lately.

The last hiatus I took from horror genre content publishing was rather extensive, and I couldn’t find a time when all the variables (read: enthusiasm, energy, and ideas for quality content) aligned like they are now.

My 2018-2021 experiences around the horror social web were nothing to write home about, so I branched out into video game design, as you may know already if you’ve been up to date with my other project going on at Jimminy Studios.

I guess my cinematographer side is too greedy to stay in one genre, so I took advantage of the past several years of disconnect from the horror and Halloween 24/7/365 mentalities that drove me from ‘18 to late ‘21 and got into many non-horror things.

I watched a lot of non-horror and must-watch series, like The Sopranos, Better Call Saul, or The Wire, and old 1980s series too.

One thing horror I got into, and extra enjoyed is that I realized I had come full circle with Lovecraft after decades reading his tales, and got started with the Cthulhu Mythos writers and the tales I’ve read so far are kind of good and highly enjoyable.

Lovecraft is too big of a subject to really be done with it, if he interests you, not just as a writer of weird fiction, but also as a person in general.

Consider all his tales, poetry and articles, the biographies, and the ton of letters. And all this without counting the derivative products, like the Cthulhu Mythos writers and stories.

The one side of Lovecraft I’ve been into lately is his T. S. Joshi biography. Although I haven’t read it for almost a year and a half I’m not done with it. It’s a tome. I’m taking notes and it’s the best biography I’ve read so far, truly exhaustive.

Even if I have been this self-absorbed (I don’t know if I told you, but I relocated to a different place from where I was before) moving to Florida wasn’t something to take lightly and it took me a long quantity of months to adjust (and I’m not sure I’m too adjusted yet, to be honest), even if I couldn’t write anything or do any work for Shock Depot to grow, I had the mindfulness I needed each time I saw or read something remarkable that relates or belongs to the horror genre to star/fav/save it so I can later share it with you.

Streaming services are the bread and butter for a Shock Depot horror content publisher and while I administer and own the website I also fed, feed, and will feed it with content like anyone else, and lately I’ve been focusing on one source of ideas for content that doesn’t cease to amaze me.

First, some background to give you an idea of where my all-time horror (borrowed) knowledge comes from, it comes from Fangoria. So you must imagine that it’s just a sliver (among many) of knowledge of the genre.

I read all the Fangorias from the first issue up to issues from 2005 or so, and while I was doing that, I was taking notes of the movies I thought I wanted to watch, and later went and watched them.

This went on from 2006 until 2012 or so, from then on I got all my knowledge of horror from the web. Thinking vainly that I’d watched almost everything there is to watch from past decades, I kind of stopped inquiring about non-current horror movies.

The thing that changed this wrong notion about myself was Tubi. It has a big bunch of old horror movies and series I didn’t even know existed, and still today it doesn’t cease to amaze me for more than half a decade now.

Among the things I’m going to share in the next month and a half, there are going to be some Tubi horror movie lists I curated from the horror movies I watched since I started using the service.

[antimonyandthyme]

the way I would pay you to write 5 million words of the sebchal vampire au dear GOD

Anon alas I fall short of the might that Georgia K has but IF I ever wrote 5 million words for the sebchal vampire au this is prolly what it’d look like…

Charles has walked the earth through civilizations. He’s older than he can remember. He thinks he saw the pyramids erected. He thinks he’s seen the fall of emperors. Events are blurring in his mind, as are faces. He may have loved once. He doesn’t let himself do so anymore. He understands the pain of forgetting a lover’s countenance, and would not wish that upon his deepest enemies.

Yeah, he still needs blood to survive. He’s adept at breaking into hospitals. A mentor might have called him too soft-hearted before. Dying in the sun is a myth, as are sparkles. The latest vampire fantasy stories always make him chuckle. Humans and their little tales.

To kill time, Charles picks up a hobby every century. After mastering every Chopin etude and Beethoven sonata, Charles decides he needs something new. In Monza he watches some funny looking cars zoom around a funny looking track. Huh.

He meets Sebastian. Oh, he’s fascinating. The man claims to have no interest in Charles, but spends hours giving him tips and helping him adjust. Charles likes listening to him speak. He lets Sebastian win all the challenges Ferrari make them do. Sebastian tries to pretend he doesn’t care. It’s endearing.

He gets careless, wanting so much to impress Sebastian. He gets loose with his tongue. It’s been millennia since he found delight in another’s presence, too aware of the mortality of their tiny, human existences. Seb walks into his motor home one day while Charles has his teeth in a hare’s neck.

Oh, here’s another feeling he hasn’t succumbed to in years. Fear. If Seb were to walk out of his life this instant Charles might just drive a stake through his undying heart. (It would not kill him, it would only hurt.)

Except Seb doesn’t scream. Doesn’t hurl abuse. He sits down and asks Charles for an explanation. Charles tries to encompass thousands of years of wandering into the span of a two hour long conversation. At the end, Seb cradles Charles’ cheek in his hand, says, “You must have been so lonely.”

Charles catches his hand and holds it there. “Not anymore.”

Seb designates himself as Charles’ blood bank. He goes to pet stores and convinces teenagers that he’s raising a family of rabbits. He becomes friendly with a guy named Randy. Here’s another new feeling — jealousy. Seb laughs until he falls over while Charles pouts.

It takes months before Charles can bring himself to feed from Seb. Each time Seb offers, his heart rate spikes and his sweat smells of terror and Charles would rather starve than subject Seb to that. But each time, Seb offers.

Charles takes when he wins his first championship. He takes Seb’s blood, given to him willingly. Takes Seb’s body, makes him moan and whine and beg.

Seb retires and becomes a farmer. A farmer! Charles didn’t think he could love him any more than he already does. He visits in between every race. Seb is his rock, the bookmark that details the centuries.

Years pass and time takes its toll on Seb. The lines around his eyes deepen. Charles remains the same as he always has. It doesn’t matter. Charles loves him all the same. He waits until Seb asks the dreaded question.

Seb does, after his fortieth birthday. Kind and unaccusatory, but still curious. “Why haven’t you changed me?”

Charles hangs his head. Every day he struggles with this desire, this thirst that is greater even than his need for blood. A companion. He’s a monster for even considering the option.

He says, “Because I would die before I subject the one I love to such an existence.”

Seb says, “But I would not be lonely. I would have you.”

Charles shakes his head. After all, Seb is only human. He does not yet understand.

(Anon I’m going to stop here before I drown you in sadness)

[fanficswheniremember]

Tomorrow Night - Teaser

Just a little teaser for an Eddie Munson x reader fic I've been working on. It is a silly little fluffy fic where nothing bad ever happens. Super excited about it, lots planned. 26k words written so far. Below is the first scene.

(Tomorrow Night is the name, not when it's being posted. No release planned yet.)

(Chris is the name I gave the member of Hellfire/Corroded Coffin who seems to have just been credited in the show as Freak #1.)

--------------------------------

Eddie swept into the cafeteria holding the poster he had spent the previous night designing. He spotted Gareth, Jeff and Chris at their normal table. Long strides took him over to them quickly.

Before they had noticed his arrival, he slammed the poster down in front of them. “Gentlemen, I have a proposition.” None of them jumped at his sudden appearance, too used to the charming chaos he brought with him everywhere he went.

The poster still obscured by his hand on top of it, Eddie gestured around the group with his other hand. “You all know that I was writing over the weekend, and you are going to love it. But…to truly be able to appreciate the artistry…we are going to need something first.”

Finally, he pulled his hand off the poster with a flourish, revealing it to his bandmates.

Decorated with his usual style of illustrations, the headline that drew their eyes was, “FEMALE VOCALIST WANTED” right below their band’s name, “CORRODED COFFIN”. Lower down it gave details of auditions that Thursday in the storeroom they normally used for Hellfire.

“Why do you want to let a chick in the band?” Chris asked, not sounding pleased with the idea.

Eddie sighed at his bandmate’s lack of vision. He put his hand on Chris’ shoulder, looking him in the eye, “Just think of how much it would expand our range!” Letting go of Chris, he turned away slightly as he added, “And…one of the songs I’ve been working on just won’t be the same without a female voice.”

Looking around at his bandmates, his arguments did not seem to have moved any of them on the subject.

“Aw…Come on, guys. Unless one of you guys has a decent falsetto?...No?...Then give it a chance.”

They just continued to grumble.

Biting his lip and spinning on the spot, Eddie ran a hand over his face before turning back to his bandmates. “Fine,” he held his hands up in defeat. “But since I’ve already booked the room and put ten of these up around school,” he held up the poster, “let’s do the auditions and if we don’t find anyone that convinces you, I’ll figure something else out for the songs.”

After grudgingly accepting his terms, they changed the subject.

“Do you have everything prepared for Hellfire on Friday?” Jeff asked, rubbing his hands together. “I’m pumped to see what you’ve got planned for us this year.”

“Same, man,” Gareth agreed. “Any clues for us, Eddie?”

Eddie smirked, finally sitting down at the head of the table before leaning forward on his elbows and tapping his fingers together to give a sense of foreboding. “I am indeed prepared for the first official Hellfire session of the school year, and I have a lot planned for you…However!” He held up a finger, before slowly pointing it at Gareth. “You are aware that I cannot abide spoilers. And I would never share information with only part of the party…without reason.”

“I still don’t understand why you invited those freshmen to join,” Chris complained.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie stood up again, leaning forward, his hands flat on the table supporting him. “Those freshmen are vital to the future of Hellfire. I may have started this club, but I do not intend to let it end with me, with us.” He stood up straight, gesturing wildly as he continued, “As you replaced your predecessors, we replace our party members lost to graduation,” he swayed a little and put on a silly voice for the word ‘graduation’, “with fresh blood, that they may continue our legacy. They will find more little lost sheepies to guide on our sacred path once we are gone.” As he finished, he raised a hand in the air and crossed the other over his stomach before performing an over-the-top bow.

“So, are you actually going to graduate this year?” Jeff asked.

After flopping back into his seat, Eddie held his arms out in a lazy shrug. “We’ll see.”

[just-a-cup-of-anxietea]

Thanks for the tag @the---hermit ! 💕

Nickname: tbh i don't really have one? Some friends call me b. Just the letter b. (Short for Bea.) Others call me Emma or Sara bc for some reason people seem to mistake me for those names fairly frequently. Like a weird amount. Neither of those even slightly resemble Grace, but i guess they still count as nicknames?

Sign: Cancer

Height: somewhere around 5'7? 5'8?

Last thing I googled: EDC removal biodegradation

Song stuck in my head: Fired My Therapist by Madelline

No. of followers: on this account it's a pleasant 198!! Love you guys! 💕💕

Amount of sleep: 2 hrs. Help. Akjxkajska

Lucky number: 3, 7, 11, 12

Dream job: probably like a museum or hotel guest services specialist. Working with people directly to teach them about local wildlife and natural history while also still having highly variable days that allow me to work within a WIDE skill set. I think I'd also really like consulting as a sustainable design specialist! Or being a professor! Or scientific diving! Or-!

Wearing: Very comfy teal-ish pajama pants + yellow shirt + pinkish peach sweatshirt

Movies/books that summarize you: BOOKS: The Martian by Andy Weir, The Library of Babel by Jorge Luis Borges, The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan, Instant Karma AND Cress by Marissa Meyer, Journey to the Center of The Earth by Jules Verne, Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell, Brain on Fire by Susannah Cahalan, Silent Spring by Rachel Carson. MOVIES: Princess Bride, Moana, Finding Nemo, Frozen, The Sound of Music

Favorite song: Take the Weight by Kristin Stokes and Rob Rokicki. (Subject to change in the next 30-1300 seconds)

Aesthetic: morning light shining through crystals in windows and casting rainbows all around a room. Water splashing up and sparkling in the light during an early morning paddle out to a quiet surfing spot. overgrown jungle trails teeming with unusual life. Paint stains on old t-shirts and paintbrushes tucked into perpetually wild hair. Well-worn field guides, pocket-sized sketch pads, multi tools long since broken in, creased maps covered in scrawled writing, and pages and pages of notes (with exclamation points aplenty) on how to read the land, sea, and sky. Stacks of books lovingly arranged and filled with homemade book marks (paint swatches with doodles inked on). Dream destinations tacked up on the wall. Musical instruments and songbooks in every corner. Whiteboards with doodles and architectural sketch ideas with arrows pointing to hastily written acronyms and questions. Laptop with one million tabs open. Leg always bouncing, eyes always starry, shoes always tied tightly ready for the next adventure. Always humming. Faint smell of green tea and vanilla.

Favorite authors: Marissa Meyer, Rick Riordan, Neal Shusterman, Rachel Carson

Favorite animal noise: when my dog gets really excited she does this lil grunting thing that sounds a bit like a contented Berkshire pig. She's so weird i love her so much.

Random: I have a long term goal of watching all the Disney movies in the primary language of the country in which they’re set, so I’m trying to learn like All The Languages. It’s a lot but it’s FUN. The University of Hawaii at Manoa sent me a copy of Moana in Hawaiian like a year ago and I’m STILL freaking out about it ITS SO COO L.

No pressure tagging: @daydreaming-optimist @contre-qui @seasoftea @sttchingllies @oceanok @willowstea @thiscolorfulmess @suckstobehuman @whats-in-a-username @silhouette-of-sarah @humble-boness @earlymoderngothic @cheshire-castle-library @noa-the-physicist @backtomycorner @permanentreverie @notetaeker and anyone else who wants to join in!

[soulmate-game]

New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

—*—*—*—*—*

For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at��� but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

--*--*--*--*--*

Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

[edwad]

Can you explain more about your critique of base and superstructure? I’ve never really read any helpful criticism of it and I’m interested

the usual description of the model really only makes any sense in a capitalist context where there is a meaningful separation between the political and the economic. feudal lords represented both economic and political authority over their serfs, etc, so the case for a political superstructure which is derived from an economic base is hard to square when dealing with societies where political and economic power were ultimately the same thing.

this means there are serious limits for using it to make sense of non-capitalist history (likely not its intended goal anyway!), but also there are the obvious issues where the economic base doesn't just give rise to ideas about legal institutions etc but is in fact predicated on their real existence. this is probably more obvious of a point, but private property, wage contracts, legal subjectivity, formal equality before the law, etc are all necessary elements of the capitalist mode of production which marx identifies in capital; these things are not merely results of "the economic", the network of social relations which they map out are its historical and system-logical foundation. of course plenty of people have made excuses about this, saying the superstructure reflects back on the base etc etc and dragging out that old engels quote about it, but this really doesn't save it for me and still retains the distinction, even when allowed to be "dialectical", which i think is much more complicated regardless.

at the more sophisticated end, there are other problems as well, such as the ironic fact that using this model to account for history or even the shape of society completely sidesteps questions of class struggle, which most people using b/s would probably agree is important (perhaps even the "prime mover" of history!). but it in fact makes absolutely 0 reference, by design, to anything other than a completely one-sided representation of a stable world which isn't even capable of adequately grappling with the real contradictions of society, except for maybe (and probably too generously) at a level which is effectively meaningless and allows for little if any sensitivity to the issue. it is a metaphor which marx alludes to once in a preface for a work whose plan he ultimately abandons and then he never really returns to it.

heinrich makes the case that he is attempting to briefly combat the way of approaching history/society typical at the time rather than offering a fully fleshed out alternative which we should all submit to, but i think it's also important to note how much marx's own understanding of history and society necessarily changed after 1859 when it was written. even a few years later, by the time he's working on capital, the picture becomes much more complicated. this is even truer for the distance between the status of the critique of the political economy and his much earlier historical thinking from the 40s which people tend to backwardly project b/s onto.

anyway there are a lot of things i could say, some more speculative (e.g. i think the function of many of marxs prefaces have a lot to do with putting an appeal to scientific objectivity out front so that he has an easier time getting past the censors he'd been struggling against since his youth etc), but i hadn't even planned on writing this much. maybe i'll return to this eventually and give a fuller treatment but not today lol

[dagobahbound]

The Anniversary

based on this post by @mallr4ts  

summary: After a pretty good day with force 99, Crosshair gets upset and locks himself away, the others not knowing what they did wrong. You are able to talk through it with him, helping him calm down. 

pairing: Crosshair x Reader (romantic!)

reader description: I didn’t feel it was necessary to give gender or pronouns, so I didn’t. I think it reads fine without them.  

word count: 1.4 K 

notes: I am usually a Wrecker girl, but the answer Rat gave made me tear up so I had to write something. Very much angsty stuff, so enjoy I guess. 

“Hey, do you think you can check on Crosshair?” Hunter’s voice broke the silence you were enjoying in your quarters, reading the new book you’d had on your “to be read” list for far too long. 

“What’s up?”

“Well, we were talking and he seemed to get a bit anxious, and we tried to change the subject and then he just got up and went to his room,” he explained as you climbed down from your perch. Bunk beds were cool, but you hardly slept there. Usually Crosshair wanted you with him. 

“I’ll check up on him,” you tell Hunter as you turn the corner to leave the room. You look up to find Echo and Wrecker standing at the end of the corridor, worry on their brows. Tech came from the common room, then. He looked just as nervous. “I’m sure he’s fine, guys. He just needs time,” you assure them. 

Echo shook his head slightly. 

“Tell him I’m sorry,” Wrecker pleaded, his hand rubbing his head. 

“For what?” 

“I dunno, but I’m usually the one who says something wrong.” You smile. 

“I’ll tell him.” You shoo them away with your hands, now standing in front of Crosshair’s door. Hunter gathered the men back into the common room. Not that that would do much. You were certain the walls in this ship were made out of single sheets of paper. 

You knock twice on the door, and stay silent. No response. You sigh. 

“I’m just checking on you, love. I’ll be in my room,” you announce through the door. You knew he wouldn’t want you to barge in, even though you did have a key. 

You stepped back down the hall and into your room. You climb the ladder to the top bunk, and begin to read again. You usually read with some white noise, but you wanted to be able to hear if Crosshair called for you. 

On the contrary, he came around the corner and through your doorway after a few minutes. You set your book down, looking at his tired eyes. He’d been crying, but he didn’t want you staring. You cleared your throat and clicked play on your white noise player. Thunderstorm in a forest. You placed your bookmark in between the pages and left the novel on the bed. 

You start down the ladder as Crosshair crawled onto the bottom bunk. He pulled the blankets down, but didn’t wrap them around himself. He knew you’d want them, but they were too... soft. 

The door swished closed when you hit the button. You stepped to the bottom bunk and crawled in beside him. He leaned on the pillow you’d never used, except for times like this. He’d been upset like this before, and you always tried your best to be what he needed. 

Silence. 

Wrapping your arms around him as he buried his face in your chest and shoulder. The white noise was just loud enough that he didn’t have to hide every sob. Thunder sounded from the speaker and he took a deep breath. You made small circles on his back with one hand, gently squeezing his hand in the other. 

You both stayed like that for a while. The track had repeated, and they usually lasted for about an hour. 

“What were you reading?” His question sounded far away, but really he was just whispering. His throat likely hurt from his crying. 

“That novel you bought me the other day. It’s pretty good.” You couldn’t keep back your smile as he turned his head to look at you. He took his hand away from yours and traced your lips with his index finger. 

“You’re pretty good.” You stifled a laugh. You leaned down and kissed his forehead, warm under your lips. 

“Feel any better?”

“You definitely help,” his voice still hoarse. 

“You don’t have to talk about it, but I was instructed to tell you that Wrecker is sorry.” Crosshair’s brow raised. You shrugged. 

“He didn’t do anything. None of them did. I just,” he trailed off. You patted his back and pulled the blankets closer to your body. You held the corner out to him, offering to wrap him as well. 

He sighed and nodded. You smile as you wrap the blanket around him. His hands were ice cold, and you knew he was freezing. 

“It’s been another year.” 

“Another year?”

“Since Jelucan.” You nod, not saying anything. If he wanted to talk, he certainly could, but you wouldn’t force anything. “I got through the day, and I was fine. But, Hunter started to talk about the anniversary of Geonosis, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Jelucan.” 

You rub your hand up and down his arm, and kiss his forehead again. He takes a deep breath again. His fingertips trace your arm and elbow aimlessly. He was nearly shaking. 

“I was sent to handle some rebels hiding on Jelucan. They were, more accurately, rebel sympathizers. They had no weapons. No plans. They were just people. Refugees hiding from the Empire.” He stared off into nowhere. Thunder clapped and he jumped. “I gave the order, but I also shot into them. I killed them,” he spit out, sobs following his confession. 

You pulled him impossibly closer, rubbing his back. “You had no choice, my love.”

“I didn’t have to fucking join them! I should’ve just given the damn order!” He was shouting into your neck, and tears fell from your eyes and on his shoulder. You regretted your words, lightly shushing him. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, squeezing him tighter. 

“No, don’t be. You’re the only one I can talk to,” he cried. You nod. 

“Your brothers would listen, you know. They love you,” you say, weary of his response. 

“I know, I just,” he started. He squeezed your wrist gently. “They already think I’m broken enough.” 

“They may think so, but that doesn’t negate their concern. They really love you, and so do I. We want you to feel better.” He breathed through his nose, even though it was stuffy, now. He traced down your neck and to your wrist. His hands were always precise, but stayed busy. 

“What I’ve done, I just, I wish I could wipe it all away.” You sigh and grab his hand on its way down to your wrist. You kiss his knuckles and rest your cheek on his loose fist. You could feel his pulse as you held onto his wrist, just counting the beats. 

“No one can change the past, but you can change your future. Don’t let what you’ve done get in the way of what you can have.”

“What can I have?” His question wasn’t rude, it was genuine. He wanted to know what he could have after everything he’d done. 

“You have four brothers that love you, and will follow you anywhere. You have me, of course, I’m a little biased there.” He chuckled. His hand squeezed your shoulder gently. 

“You have the entire galaxy, love. A galaxy full of potential and future. Don’t give it up for something you can’t change. Let us help you.”

He sighed. The thunder rolled from the speaker, rain drops hitting leaves steadily. You both sat there for a little while. His fingers traced abstract designs on your skin. 

“You’re never going to wipe away what you’ve done, but you can begin to understand how to live with it. Don’t let your past eat you up.” He nodded, a lone tear headed down his cheek. You stop it with a kiss. 

“You do so much for me, how can I make that up to you?”

You grin, dramatically thinking about your answer. “Well, I’ll probably finish that book tomorrow, if I get enough time. The sequel came out last year, and I’m sure there will be a book store on our next stop.” 

He rolled his eyes and laughed. “I buy your love with books, now?”

“Well, it’s easier than some other things you could buy it with,” you joke. You both sit there giggling for some minutes, enjoying the booms of thunder from your speaker. 

“I love you,” you say, noticing his breathing had calmed. He gave a small smile. 

“I love you, too. Let’s sleep here, my head hurts too much to walk.” You laugh as he pulls free enough from your hold to reach the remote for the lights. 

“Fine, but if you start snoring, I’m going to your room.” 

[nobodyfamousposts]

My-Crack-ulous: Aku-Maid

In which I am a horrible person...

No seriously. Don’t read this.

For @mermain123, for bringing up the cursed image that started this mess in the first place.

Mermain: i said i was suffering

Mermain: i didn't want you to make the internet suffer

Me: That sounds like the internet’s problem.

Also for @bloody-writes. You know why...   ; )

_________________________

Hawk Moth was a supervillain who had been terrorizing Paris for the better part of two years.

But no one could really argue that not all of his ideas have been good. Or well thought out. Or in any way sensible even.

Like the time he akumatized a baby.

Or the time he akumatized a girl to transform people into exact replicas of herself.

Or the fact he keeps akumatizing Mr. Ramier for going on 29 times at this point…

Or the other time he akumatized a baby…

Times that he destroyed Paris. Times that he nearly destroyed the world. Times that he gave people powers that were completely contradictory to the goals of getting the Miraculous he was after by erasing the heroes from existence or transforming them in ways that made the Miraculous inaccessible.

But none of his akumatizations had ever gotten him as much hate, caused as much misery, were were ultimately as pointless as this most recent incident.

Aku-maid.

It was known the instant she was akumatized. As soon as she was transformed, a wave of power enveloped the city. And within that wave, half of the people of Paris were transformed as well. 

…the male half.

Her power was to transform all the men of Paris. She didn’t even have a weapon or attack that did it, it just happened almost instantaneously. All men suddenly found themselves changed.

Or rather, their outfits…

“Ah!”

“What the hell—!?”

“I can’t get it off!”

One by one, every male in Paris suddenly found themselves in a much different state of attire. What had just been a normal day full of various styles and appearances had all suddenly become very…frilly.

“WHY AM I A MAID?!”

Much as implied her namesake, the akuma’s power involved transforming whatever any man was wearing into some variation of a maid outfit.

Every man.

All over Paris.

From Andre Bourgeois, who has refused to leave his office to make an official statement…

“ANDRE!” Audrey shouted, banging on the door. “Get out here this instant!”

“But, honey, I can’t be seen like this!”

To Roger Raincomprix, who has tried to continue his normal duties despite the…change of uniform…

“Stop in the name of the law!” Roger shouted, reaching into his pockets in an automatic reaction to try to get his handcuffs. While the dress he was wearing did still have pockets, the only item they procured was a cleaning rag, which was notably less threatening as the suspect in question stared for a moment before deciding to take off.

“HEY!”

And yes, even to…

“I’m a Macrophage!” Adrien gushed happily as he lifted his lengthy skirt to give a twirl.

…even to Adrien Agreste, who was apparently the only one to find anything pleasant about the current crisis.

Nino stared.

“Dude. Seriously?”

“I’ve always wanted to cosplay!”

Nino, having been long-since exposed to his friend’s deep love for anime in its many forms, at least knew what a Macrophage was. But even so, he couldn’t help but feel there was something odd about the way Adrien took to the long pale dress and cap.

Kim rested a hand on Nino’s shoulder. “Just let the guy enjoy this.”

“At least somebody is.” Nathaniel muttered bitterly as he tried to hide as behind his sketchbook. It was a futile attempt, of course, as he at most only covered his face, leaving the red dress, white apron with pockets, and knee-high boots on full display.

“I don’t understand how he can.” Max complained. He tugged at his own skirt in vain, looking at Adrien’s ankle-length ensemble enviously. The skirt was much shorter than he would have liked—reaching a couple inches above his thigh and almost seemed to be defying gravity to stay that way despite his attempts to get it to either flatten or otherwise lower. “I question the design choices.”

“But you look just like Misaki from Maid Sama! And Nathaniel looks like Lizbeth!” Adrien insisted. “It’s totally a cosplay!”

Max just stared incredulously. He was wearing a black dress with puffy sleeves that tapered off just shy of his elbow, white apron, a cap, and thigh-high black stockings and knee-high boots, it seemed Adrien did have a point.

Max, in all fairness, didn’t particularly care in favor of the problems that came with suddenly finding himself in a short dress, heels, and a corset.

“I just can’t peg where Kim or Nino’s outfits are from.” He continued, studying the outfits in question contemplatively. “But give me a little time! It’ll come to me!”

The boys had been having an afternoon hangout session in the park. No girls. No teachers. No Gabriel Agreste or bodyguards to whisk certain teen models away. It was supposed to be a normal non-drama-filled day.

…which was naturally when it became something less than normal and certainly more than drama-filled.

“I think I get why girls complain about this sort of thing now.” Kim said, looking at his shoes. “These heels are kind of uncomfortable…”

“Are you sure it’s the heels and not the flippers?” Nino asked, annoyed.

Sure enough, Kim was wearing flipper-heels. They were black and also had black ankle straps with a little bow on each. This strange footwear did seem to go with Kim’s talent in swimming, which was also emphasized by the ruffle maid swimsuit they matched with.

“Nah, it’s definitely the heels.” Kim insisted.

So this was what their all-boys’ afternoon had come to.

Kim was wobbling on unsteady heels.

Nathaniel groaned and kept his ever reddening face covered.

Max was questioning where they could procure jackets. Long jackets.

Adrien was giggling to himself and asking if they could do a full Cells at Work group cosplay.

And Nino paled, suddenly realizing something.

"Guys. Guys, we have to hide!"

"Why?" Kim asked. "It's annoying, but this akuma doesn't seem really dangerous."

"No, you don't get it!" Nino hissed. "If Alya catches us, we will NEVER live this down!"

Nathaniel looked over the edge of his sketchbook. “Alya wouldn’t actually post pictures of us to the Ladyblog, would she?”

A long pause followed.

The boys paled.

Except for Adrien, who turned to them with a gasp of excitement. “Do you think she would? We could do a group picture!”

All the other boys paled even more, looking downright ill.

And immediately took off running.

Or at least as well as they could with heels. None of them made it very far without tripping, stumbling, or simply struggling to stay upright as they still tried to move away from the area as quickly as the heels would allow.

“But what’s wrong with—?”

“JUST RUN, ADRIEN!”

“Who thought maid outfits with high heels was a good idea?! How can anyone be expected to clean in these things?

“I will never draw high heels on a super heroine again.”

“I can’t breathe! Who created corsets?! What objective does this achieve besides crushing one’s lungs?”

Nino groaned, still running. “I hope Hawk Moth is suffering as much as we are!”

_____________________

If Nino Lahiffe had the ability to break the fourth wall and peer into the events happening outside of his immediate vicinity, he would be happy to find this was actually the case.

And he would laugh.

Oh, how he would laugh.

“Sir…?”

“Don’t.” Came the dark growl from a very unhappy supervillain. “Don’t say anything, Nathalie..."

This was an akuma that impacted every male in Paris. Every male.

…even to Hawk Moth, himself.

“Why did this happen?”

It would appear that even Hawk Moth was not immune to Aku-Maid’s power as he had been similarly transformed. And unfortunately, due to the change, he could no longer access his Miraculous. The Butterfly broach had disappeared, having been transformed along with his outfit.

And his outfit had…actually left much to be desired.

Which was truthfully just a nice way of saying it was ugly.

Really, really ugly.

Normally the picture of stoicism, Nathalie had to pretend to cough to avoid reacting.

“Can’t you order the akuma to undo it?” She eventually was able to ask.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes in concentration. “No. It’s no good. I’ve lost the link!”

His eyes widened and he clutched his chest in a panic.

“Where is the Miraculous?!” Hawk Moth demanded, trying—and failing to pull at the tasteless dress. But as others across the city had already discovered, the clothes were magic and would not be removed or displaced. Not even the frock or the cap he now wore.

“Sir, you were transformed when you changed. It looks like the Butterfly Miraculous was transformed along with you.”

He froze, eyes widening in horror. “But that’s—”

He grasped at the empty place on his chest. Where once had been his lapel and pin now only had ruffles and a leathery texture. His mask remained in place, though it was now fully black except for the openings around his eyes and mouth, which were bordered with a lighter grey color. The material and outfit overall had a shine to it that could be found on any wetsuit.

To put it nicely: he looked atrocious.

To put it bluntly: he looked like some sort of BDSM role-player with a maid kink.

So it was fortunate, perhaps, that no one else in Paris would have to be subject to the sight.

Except Nathalie. Who was probably going to have nightmares.

Or a coronary from the laughter she was trying to hold back.

It was admittedly a bit hard to tell.

But it seemed she was handling the situation a bit better than Hawk Moth, despite the fact that the man was currently unable to see himself or the full extent of the monstrosity he now wore.

…this was probably for the best. Given the man’s fashion sense, there was really no telling whether he would be horrified or inspired, and nobody would want to find out.

“I can’t contact the akuma! And I can’t call it back!”

He moaned, covering his…already covered face with his hands. “I’ll never be taken seriously again!”

Nathalie resolutely held back from pointing out he was barely being taken seriously now.

“It’s…not that bad?” She tried. Not very well, but she tried.

Hawk Moth clutched his head in horror. “Unless Ladybug and Chat Noir can stop this akuma, we’re doomed!”

“Sir, it’s just an akuma that puts men in maid outfits. It’s really not that bad.”

“DOOOOOOMED!!!”

__________________________

The akuma, for her part, was unaware of her benefactor’s misery, too busy enjoying the abject misery of everyone else around her.

Nobody knew just what had set the girl off to get her akumatized in the first place. Her comments about men being “the eye-candy now” suggested an argument. The maid outfits involved suggested what the topic of the argument had been regarding.

To be honest, nobody had actually realized she was the akuma responsible. She did appear fairly normal by akuma terms, dressed in a seemingly authentic Victorian era dress more befitting as an authentic Lady’s Maid compared the frillier, lacier varieties that the men around her had suddenly found themselves in. What would normally have gotten her a few odds looks was mostly ignored in the face of the sudden change. Few even took notice of her dark purple skin or black hair. Or the fan in her hand.

“THAT’S RIGHT! SEE HOW YOU LIKE BEING OBJECTIFIED!”

The yelling…was a bit harder to miss.

It was the first thing that drew the attention of the three girls settled at the cafe.

The second thing was the various cries of horror as several of the men around them suddenly discovered their state of dress transformed into…well…dresses. Of a variety that made the little cafe appear more like a maid cafe than anything.

The third thing was the appearance of a familiar face running down the road, holding up his long white dress to make running easier as he looked for a place to hide.

Marinette stared.

“ADRIEN?!”

Adrien Agreste was running around in a long white and pale cream Victorian-era dress and cap, looking like Cinderella running from the ball. Except a maid.

A quick glance to her companions showed that both Alya and Kagami were similarly staring in befuddlement, so this was neither her imagination or a fever dream.

“Adrien? What’s going on?” Alya asked for everyone.

“It’s an akuma!” He replied, quickly. “She’s putting everybody into cosplay!”

“…cosplay?”

“Yeah!”

“…everybody?”

He paused, glancing around. “Well…all the guys, I think?”

Marinette stared.

“…Just that?” Alya asked, thankfully taking over while Marinette’s brain started to become aware that this WAS Adrien she was talking to. “She’s not doing anything else besides putting guys into…‘cosplays’?”

He blinked in confusion. “I…think so?”

“She isn’t…I don’t know…commanding you or anything?”

“Well, she hasn’t yet. Which, really, isn’t so bad for an akuma if you think about it.” He said with a frown before he noticed the strange look on Kagami’s face. “Kagami, are you okay?”

Kagami made a strangled sound.

“Marinette?”

Marinette pretended to choke on a drink from an empty glass to avoid speaking.

“Can I add to your order?” The waiter came by, seeming unconcerned by the ruckus or the act that he was now wearing a rather cutesy maid outfit the likes of which would be seen in a maid cafe in Japan.

“You don’t seem put off by this.” Alya pointed out, noting his relatively unfazed attitude compared to the panicking of the other men around them…or the gushing from Adrien.

The waiter took it in stride.

“It’s okay.” He replied blankly. “I’m already dead inside.”

“Oh.”

He turned to Kagami. “Do you need anything else, Miss?”

Kagami was still staring at Adrien, blushing furiously.

“I think I have a problem.”

“You mean a kink?”

“A. Problem.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

“Story of my life.” The waiter replied as he refilled her glass of water, either unaware or uncaring of the specific nature of her trouble.

Alya gasped in sudden realization. “Wait! If this is happening here then…” She turned to Adrien. “Where were Nino and the boys?” He blinked, curious. “Oh, they decided to head home. Why?”

An almost sinister smirk formed on Alya’s face. One that would have anyone it was directed at cowering in fear. And strong enough to be felt from several blocks away.

Unbeknownst to them, Nino felt that smirk like a trail of cold fingers down his back, and promptly threw himself into his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

As if she sensed this, Alya slammed several bills on the table and dashed out the door.

“GOTTA GO!”

Realizing an akuma was about, Marinette was right on her heels. She found a nearby alleyway and immediately prepared to transform and face this latest threat.

“Oh my god. OH MY GOD.” She broke down, letting out the laughter she’d been trying so hard to hold in. “He’s a dork! The boy I’m crushing on is a complete DORK who is in to cosplaying! He thinks maid outfits are COSPLAY!”

…or she would be.

“And here I’ve been driving myself nuts with anxiety over just asking him out and he doesn’t even—”

Any minute now…

“Marinette!” Tikki hissed. “You need to stop the akuma!”

“Can’t I just take a picture first?”

“MARINETTE!”

“Oh fine…”

_____________________

Luka didn’t realize anything had happened. He felt a bit off balanced for a moment, and a bit colder, but attributed that to being on the Liberty. So he simply shifted his stance to be a bit more steady and continued playing. It wasn’t until the drum stopped that he realized something was actually wrong.

The look of shock from Mylene and the following shriek from Ivan cemented it.

He spun around, not sure what could have elicited such a cry from his fellow bandmate. And at first, he couldn’t really tell what had happened. Ivan was crouched behind the drum set, covering his face with his hands and trembling in what appeared to be mortification.

Then he noticed the mobcap on Ivan’s head, which he was pretty sure hadn’t been there before. And Ivan’s shirt seemed distinctly…fluffier and frillier than he remembered seeing a few minutes ago. He tried to move closer to offer help, only for his own balance to be off. And when he looked down…

Oh.

The dress was new.

As were the stockings.

And the notably thinner and sleeker heels on his boots.

He hummed to himself, considering the change.

“Akuma?” Juleka asked him.

“Most likely.” He replied.

Mylene had rushed up to their practice stage and to Ivan’s side, even as he moaned for her to not look at him. The poor guy was completely red in embarrassment. Seeing how upset he was, the other three had backed away, leaving Mylene to try to help her boyfriend.

“Luka, are you okay?” Rose asked worriedly, trying to respect Ivan’s need for space while also checking in on their other effected bandmate.

“I’m fine. It was just a surprise at first.” He replied.

It wasn’t every day that you suddenly found yourself in a maid outfit, after all. It was a simple outfit. White off the shoulder puffy sleeves with black frills. A black tube skirt. White apron. And…he reached to his neck where a weight was, feeling a choker.

Huh…

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Honestly, he could be in worse.

Rose seemed surprised at that. “Really? Even with those shoes?”

He looked down at the shoes in question. The boots were his style—surprisingly, given it was an akuma. The higher heels were definitely different from his norm, and clearly what Rose was referring to. In any other circumstances, she would be right.

But...

Luka smiled, shifting his stance and resting a hand on his hip. “Well, someone had to teach Jules to walk in heels. And I couldn’t show her if I didn’t know how myself.

Juleka huffed. “Don’t say that like you didn’t enjoy playing dress up.”

Luka merely curtsied, not only showing off more of his slightly ripped and punk-looking fishnet stockings, but almost proudly displaying his ability to move fluently in heels.

Rose appropriately “oo-ed” and “aah-ed” at his display. Juleka merely shook her head and smiled. Ivan was still recovering from his panic attack and had resolutely refused to come out from behind the drums, despite Mylene’s reassurances.

“So it has to be an akuma, right?” Rose asked.

“If it is, I want a picture or two, at least.” Juleka muttered as she admired Luka’s outfit, mumbling about commissioning Marinette to recreate it in her size. She hadn’t known maids could come in this style.

Mylene nodded from her place at Ivan’s side. “Though it seems rather fortunate if this is all the akuma is doing.”

“We don’t know if that is it, though.” Luka warned. “For all we know, there could be some other ability she has if she catches us. It would probably be safer if we hid out inside until this is over.”

The others agreed. And Anarka, bless her soul, actually came up with a large blanket for Ivan to wrap himself in to preserve his dignity. Then she and Mylene helped the taller teen to safely relocate to inside. Much like Luka, Ivan’s shoes had changed, but he was substantially less able to maneuver in them. And no amount of effort or force on his part could seem to separate the heels from his feet.

Once he and the others were inside, Luka moved to follow. He hesitated, however, at the sound of something landing behind him.

“Viperion? We’ll need your help.”

He turned to see Ladybug standing tall. And was that perhaps a hint of blush on her face?

Oh. 

A shame.

It looked like Juleka wouldn’t be getting her pictures, after all...

_____________________

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

He shuddered, backing away from the door as far as possible.

“Ninoooooo…”

It was a fight for survival.

“C’mon, Nino. Just open the door.”

The survival of his dignity, but still!

He’d lost track of the others and immediately rushed home and to the safety of his room. His room, which he could lock and hide away in until this all blew over.

“I have a key!” Came Chris’s voice. “Somewhere…”

“Give it and I won’t take any pictures of you.”

“Deal!”

His room, which his traitorous little brother was willing to allow the enemy entry into.

Under any normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be this desperate. But if Alya caught him like this…

Black dress. Puffy at the shoulder, sleeves that extended to his wrists and were bound by white cuffs. A white smock tied back with a white ribbon. White bow at the neck and white frills along the bottom of the dress?

Oh yeah…Alya would never let this go…

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten into all those anime Adrien pushed him into! So what if the maids were cute? And sure, he’d admit he's had a thought or two of Alya in such attire...

But how was he supposed to know Alya had such thoughts as well? And in the complete opposite direction! Clearly this was the akuma’s magic punishing him!

Nino looked to his window.

It would be a long fall, but it was his only escape.

But would the broken legs be worth it when Alya would soon figure out what he did and be able to catch up to him easily?

Maybe he could try to climb up instead…but in these heels? It was suicide!

“Fufufu!”

…screw it. 

He opened up his window, only to meet a new pair of eyes.

Ladybug stared in surprise from her place at his windowsill, a certain box in hand.

“…hi?”

“Oh thank god!” He exclaimed. He took her by her shoulders, half leaning out and half pulling her in. “Alya’s insisting on taking pictures! Please tell me you have my Miraculous with you!”

“Actually, about that—”

“I don’t care! I’ll do anything! Just please—SAVE ME!”

Ladybug looked back behind her to a distant rooftop and the other allies she’d left behind.

The sound of a key jingling could be heard and Nino stared up at her, pleadingly.

Well, she could never resist the eyes…

By the time they’d gotten the door open, the room was empty.

Nino was gone.

_____________________

Six heroes stood assembled.

Ladybug.

Chat Noir.

Carapace.

Viperion.

King Monkey.

Pegasus.

Six heroes.

Five of whom were male.

And…still wearing some semblance of feminine maid-like outfits.

Ladybug wasn’t sure if she should be impressed or worried.

“What the hell?! I thought the Miraculous were supposed to change us into our hero suits?” Nino groused.

Contrary to his hopes and expectations, using the Miraculous had not transformed him into his normal Carapace look, but had rather simply given him a different outfit. The dress itself was green and had a turtle shell pattern, while the apron and waist belts were a brown color. The bowknot around his neck was a dark green and a brown to match the apron. He wore stockings. And to his very limited relief, his shoes were flats instead of heels.

“Well, at least this skirt is longer.” Pegasus said, now wearing a dark brown blouse and bicycle skirt. The skirt went to just above his ankles, for which he was grateful. But this seemed to be countered by the increase of height to his heels.

Plus no corset. The outfit was still fit tightly and not very comfortable, but at least he could breathe now.

“Though I believe we’re getting away from maid-wear now.” Chat said, conversationally.

Pegasus gave him a flat look. “I’m not complaining.”

If Chat had witnessed his earlier ensemble, surely he would understand.

King Monkey, for his part, seemed somewhat appeased with his Miraculous suit. It was a notably more Eastern style of dress, appearing more like robes worn by palace servants. He wore a light brown waistcoat with wide sleeves over a blouse and a wrap-around skirt. It looked heavy, but Kim seemed to have no trouble with it. Maybe it was made of a lighter material…?

And Viperion’s dress was different in style as well. Whereas his maid outfit as Luka had been more punk, this was more sleek. Wearing a green sleeveless dress and white smock, as well as what appeared to be a green corset. The dress had a slit at the sides, giving more maneuverability for his legs…as well as more show, given the appearance of a garter belt and stockings. His shoes were high heeled but including a beautiful snake design that wrapped around his ankles. To finish it off, rather than remain bare, his arms were covered in what appeared to be loose green sleeves that started at his elbows and extended to his wrists.

…maybe a picture or two wouldn’t hurt? Or three? Because the amount of details on these outfits were amazing and she was just brimming with ideas now…

Ladybug broke out of her musings when someone tugged on her shoulder to get her attention.

It was Chat. Chat who, much like the other heroes, as dressed in a fantastical outfit. Though a maid outfit, it was definitely more cat-themed with a giant paw-like gloves covering his hands, a paw print on his apron, and bow and bell on his tail which rang as he shifted.

What material was that made of, anyway? She kind of wanted to give it a feel and see if she could find something to compare it to. Maybe a quick sketch?

Oh. Right.

Akuma.

Maybe if she was lucky, they could finish this quickly so she could rush back home and take notes while she still had the ideas bouncing in her brain.

…maybe someone would have gotten pictures by then…?

“Ladybug?” Chat whispered, snapping her back to reality.

“Yes?”

Chat frowned in concern. “Is the Guardian okay with this?”

Ladybug froze.

“PSST! Ladybug!” Came a voice from a nearby rooftop, drawing her attention.

“Master Fu?”

“Ladybug! Here’s the Miracle Box. Take as many allies as you can and resolve this as soon as possible!”

“Master? Are…you hiding in a box?”

“No questions! Just go!”

“…he’s fine.”

Chat seemed uncertain, but decided not to pry.

“Let’s just split up and find the akuma.” Ladybug said. “But don’t engage until we’re all together!”

With that, the six split into three groups, with Chat and Carapace going one way and King Monkey and Pegasus going another, leaving Ladybug and Viperion searching together with the former trying not to get caught stealing peeks at the latter.

“Is something wrong?” He asked with a smile.

…trying. The key word was trying not to get caught.

“No! Nothing!” She replied quickly. “I’m just…surprised that you can still move so quickly in those heels.”

“I’ve had practice.” He explained, still smiling. He even lifted one leg behind him, managing to stand perfectly balanced even on one leg in heels.

“I…see.”

Part of her wanted very much to laugh. It was the same part that had found this entire day ridiculous. The other part of her was her inner artist at work and really wanted to make a few sketches inspired from the presented outfits. Like Viperion’s sleeves…and those shoes with a snake coil wrapping around the ankle…

“Ladybug!”

Gaah! Focus!

She turned towards the shout to find King Monkey and Pegasus stumbling towards her.

Her fingers twitched. She ignored it.

“We found the akuma.” King Monkey reported. “She doesn’t seem to be doing anything. Just…kind or roaming around.”

“And laughing.” Pegasus added bitterly. “She appears to be doing a lot of that.”

“How’s THAT for ‘doll them up’?” Came a shout from street level. “HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, HUH?!”

As if on cue…

Ladybug and the others peeked over the edge of the roof.

“Has she displayed any other powers?” She asked.

“No.” Pegasus replied. “From what we could see, her power has already been activated to…obvious effect.” He hesitated, resolutely avoiding mentioning his new outfit or the indignity he’d already suffered. “She has only been laughing. And tripping the occasional person while searching for someone in particular—possibly the one responsible for her ire.”

Ladybug nodded. “At least she’s distracted and doesn’t know we’re here. We just need a plan of attack before we try to fight her.”

“No problem!” King Monkey said with a grin as he reached for his weapon. “We can just do a head on attack with our weapons and—”

They stared.

In place of his staff was a broom. A normal cleaning broom.

They sent cautious glances to each other before they checked their own inventory.

Said inventory consisted of a broom, a bucket, and a feather duster.

“I believe that constitutes as a problem.” Pegasus stated worriedly.

“That’s no fair!” King Monkey exclaimed. “Adrien was able to summon a machete!”

Ladybug blanched at that. “A what?!”

Pegasus pushed up his glasses. “I believe it’s a component of his…‘cosplay’?”

“Pfft!” Ladybug covered her mouth with her hand.

“Ladybug?”

“I-it’s nothing!” She replied hurriedly.

Viperion raised his eyebrow at her but didn’t comment.

King Monkey at least seemed to take it in stride.

“Now we just need a plan for attack!”

“With what?!” Pegasus questioned, waving the feather duster in frustration. “Our weapons don’t work!”

“More like our weapons aren’t actually weapons.” Viperion said, considering his bucket.

“I could smack her.” King Monkey offered, holding up his broom. “Maybe your feather duster has dust on it and could make her sneeze?”

Pegasus gave him a flat look.

“I think the broom is the best weapon we have right now.”

“Don’t knock a bucket!” King Monkey commanded, resolutely. “I got one stick on my head one time and it took hours to get it off! Buckets are evil, man!”

Pegasus sighed and rubbed his head. “It concerns me that you’re the second person I know whom that has happened to.”

Ladybug coughed, discretely trying to draw attention off that particular subject lest identities be at risk. “Anyway, I think I have a plan...”

______________________

To be honest, it wasn’t that difficult of an akuma. Especially not with six of them teaming up against it.

Akumaid truly see to have no ability other than the initial one of transforming what any male in Paris was wearing into something embarrassing...unless you were Adrien, apparently. Aside from that, she showed no other power—neither over the clothes themselves or the people wearing them. Well, she wasn’t controlling any of the victims or shrinking the clothing to choke them at any rate...which if you think about it, was rather lame for an akuma in the power department.

The only real disadvantage in battle came in the difficulty the boys had moving freely in their current outfits. And the afore noted lack of proper weaponry.

Their advantage of surprising was ruined by Chat’s bell ringing before they could ambush her, and both Carapace and Pegasus losing balance with their heels and falling over. King Monkey’s outfit, while longer, also meant more fabric to flap about and resist his movements regardless of how light it may have been, so he wasn’t able to get a hit in fast enough before the akuma turned on him and knocked him away.

Chat was able to get a hit in though.

With his…Kitty Wand…

“THIS IS MAGICAL PUNISHMENT!” He shouted as he smacked the akuma over the head.

“Chat. Chat no. Chat why?”

And Ladybug had hopelessly lost her composure by this point and was laughing. Just laughing. Laughing so hard she was crying actual tears as she smacked her own thigh in her struggle to breathe. Viperion was trying to help her stay standing, keeping an arm around her to support her as she half leaned and half chuckled tears into his chest.

“What’s going on? Does the akuma have some power over Ladybug, too?” King Monkey asked.

…

Viperion sighed.

“Sure. Something to that effect.”

Ladybug wheezed.

“LADYBUG!”

“Lu-haha-lucky haha-charm!”

It said something when her own Lucky Charm magicked up a paper bag. With Ladybug still victim to her fit of giggles, Viperion simply put the bag over her face and had her try to breathe.

“A paper bag doesn’t help with out of control laughing.” Pegasus noted as he forced himself to his feet.

“Do you want to try to figure out the Lucky Charm?” Viperion bit out in annoyance, Ladybug still shaking in his arms.

Pegasus coughed and backed away. “No, thank you.”

Ladybug let out another giggle.

“All right, enough! I’ll stop her!” Carapace shouted, reaching for his back. “With my…serving plate.”

His shield.

His precious shield was gone.

“…Carapace?” Ladybug asked.

The newly rendered Turtle Maid sighed and simply threw the plate as he had his shield, not expecting much.

…the plate slice flew through the air at a surprising speed, but missed the akuma entirely. Instead, it sailed past her, hitting a light post.

Ladybug had expected it to bounce, but instead there was a sound of shredding metal as the serving plate actually tore through the lamp post and into the concrete itself.

The lamp post, now detached, tilted and fell over—conveniently on top of the akuma before she had the time to realize what was happening and move out of the way.

SLAM!

It fell on top of her and she hit the ground.

“Huzzah?” Kim asked.

“Well…that’s one way to defeat an akuma.” Pegasus marveled.

“Great. Now can we fix this already?” Carapace asked impatiently. If they took too much longer, someone was bound to catch them.

That someone would probably be Alya.

And that was the last thing he wanted at this point.

“But I kind of wanted to make a sketch at least…” Ladybug muttered to herself, holding the paper bag Charm to her chest.

“LADYBUG!”

She waved her hands insistently. “I’m on it!”

But she could dream…

“MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

It was with some disappointment that the Miraculous Cure wiped away the outfits of the other heroes, returning them to their original costumes.

“OH THANK GOD!”

“That was…horrible…”

“Corsets were invented as a torture method, I swear…”

“Shieldy!” Carapace exclaimed, hugging the shield in relief. “Never leave me again!”

“You okay now, Ladybug?” Chat asked her in worry.

“I’m fine.” She said, even though she wasn’t really. She felt like she’d missed a chance, even if it was for the greater good. But it would have been an abuse of her power to be taking pictures of the guys in that state and she already felt bad enough for breaking down laughing in the middle of the fight.

In that moment, however, the loveliness of ladybugs that made up the Cure returned from their task of restoring Paris to flow over Ladybug herself before vanishing, leaving her holding an envelope in their wake. Curious, she opened the envelope…

She gasped.

Inside were a multitude of photos of the other heroes. From different angles. In different positions. All of them in their new outfits.

Ladybug bit the inside of her cheek to keep from responding and drawing attention to herself.

…Thank you, Tikki.

Best. Kwami. Ever. “Ladybug…” Carapace said in growing wariness. “What is that?”

“Nothing!”

“Ladybug. That better not be what I think it is…”

She shoved the photos back in the envelope.

“It’s nothing at all!”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Noticing the stand off, the others approached as well.

“It was just something I was missing, yeah.”

“Then let us see it.”

“Can’t.” She replied, clutching the envelope to her chest. “It’s…Ladybug stuff.”

“Hand it over. Right now!”

"NOOO! THESE ARE FOR THE FUTURE OF FASHIOOOON!”

“GIVE US THE PHOTOS!”

“Wait—did she get any of all of us in a group cosplay pic?”

“NOT NOW, CHAT!”

Unfortunately, that small distraction was all she needed to get away.

Viperion, the only one having been pretty nonchalant this whole time, simply watched her leave and the others shout after her.

“…isn’t she going to take our Miraculous back?”

_________________________

Angela sighed, already dreading what was to come.

It was a humiliating end to an already humiliating week as the former akuma victim had been forced to return to her job to go over the updates for the new Ladybug game with the rest of her team.

Said updates were apparently to include maid outfits for the female heroes thanks to one particular coworker who had decided to work on maid outfits for the female heroes instead of the level he was assigned. It had been part of the reason she had been angry enough to be akumatized.

The fact that he was insistent on shoving his maid fetish into the game for no good reason other than having them be eye candy was the other part.

The images in question that he insisted on bringing featured the three female super heroes of the city: Ladybug, Rena Rouge, and Queen Bee.

But not as anyone had ever seen them.

Instead of their usual hero suits, the three girls were portrayed in sultry, even provocative poses. And most notably, all three were wearing some mockery of a French Maid outfit…as what would be believed by Americans, no less.

They might as well have been the initial sketches of pinup posters.

“You can’t still be serious!”

“Hey, I’m not the one who got akumatized just because I was jealous that someone else had a good idea.” He said bitingly and giving her a pointed look, perhaps still a bit bitter of the aforementioned experience that her akumatization had caused.

“It’s not a good idea, John.” Angela countered. “There was no reason to have the girls be running in maid outfits.”

He shrugged. “We could just say an akuma did it. After all, we did just get an akuma who did exactly that.” He said, giving her another look.

She clenched her fists and was about to retort when their team lead entered the room.

The meeting commenced and she’d been forced to bite her tongue. Each of the team members went over their progress and updates for their contribution to the game. Level design. Enemies. Testing.

And then came his grand achievement. Instead of the level he was assigned, he gave scantily clad designs for three of the eight known heroes.

What effort.

“I was thinking we really need to include something to make our game stand out, so I made some extra skins for the heroes.” He bragged, sending her a smug look. “The appeal would sell plenty of copies.”

“Or the controversy.” Angela muttered back before turning to the team lead and hoping that the man leading their group had more empathy…or sense.

The team lead looked over the designs with an analyzing gaze. Tiffeny, despite the initial impression his name would give, was a rather buff man who took no shit. But was also a guy. Who liked guy things. But did those things include young women in maid costumes?

After a moment, Tiffeny dropped the pictures on the table and looked at John incredulously. “You know, if you were going to base skins off recent events, you could at least have been authentic.”

John stared. “What?”

“It was the guys who were affected by Akumaid. Not the girls. If we’re going to do maids, we need to keep it true to life, just like the rest of the designs we’ve included. We talked about this when we started this project.”

“But it’s what the audience wants!” John argued.

“Do you know who comprises the majority of our audience?” Tiffeny asked. “Girls. Girls, gay guys, and those who are exploring their interests. Guys in the outfits would sell leagues more than the girls.” He started ticking his fingers “It’s different. It’s original. And it’s based in actual events. People would love it.”

“But…they’ll love this!”

“Man, if people wanted to see sexy girls in skimpy clothing, they’d play literally any other game! Or watch porn.” Tiffeny explained. “But what game do you know of has had guys in maid outfits?”

“Well...”

“Exactly. We want to stand out. And we even have recent events as justification. So if you’re going to be wasting time you should be spending on level-making to put people in maid skins, then get those male heroes some maid costumes.”

“But that’s not fair!” John exclaimed.

Tiffeny paused at that. “Hmm…you’re right.”

With that, he turned to her. “You’re good at designing. Make some butler outfits for the girls. Something dashing to serve as a counter for the guys.”

Angela blinked in surprise for a moment before smiling.

“Sure thing!”

“You know…” one of the other workers noted. “While we’re on the subject, I WAS thinking of some medieval armor designs for the girls and princess dresses for the guys.”

“Hey yeah! Like a light green for Viperion!”

“Maybe teal might be better?”

“Ooo! How about…”

Soon enough, everyone seemed to be invested in the new plan.

Everyone that is, except John.

“Lovely!” Tiffeny said cheerfully. “Plan it out and bring the concepts to me later.”

With a new task in hand and John’s pouting to forever be a memory to hold onto, it seemed her day was looking up…

_________________________

“That was some akuma battle.” Marinette said as she slid into her seat next to Alya.

The reporter, however, only looked annoyed. “Ladybug had apparently called all the male heroes and I completely missed it!” She groaned and leaned back in her seat, bemoaning the lost opportunity.

If she’d hadn’t been so focused on tracking Nino for the purpose of collecting blackmail ensuring his safety, she would have been able to catch all of the male heroes in their maid outfits.

Marinette smiled. “You know…I may have a connection…”

Alya gasped.

“No.”

Marinette giggled and slid over her phone with a picture showing.

“NO WAY!” She cried out before staring up at Marinette in shock. “Girl, you have to send me these!”

“Wait—you have what now?” Nino had arrived, initially hopeful that he had avoided the worst of that day only to have those hopes immediately dashed upon arriving to see the two girls sharing what could only have been one thing…

“I have pictures of the heroes in their new outfits.” Marinette replied cheerfully as she swiped through her phone. “Oh look, Nino! You’re in here, too!”

“WHAT?! NO!” He shouted, rushing forward.

Marinette quickly grabbed back her phone and hid it in her pocket with an overly sweet and not at all innocent grin.

“Mari, come on, no! Don’t do this to me!” He begged.

“Don’t do this to ME!” Alya cut in. “You can’t just show me that and take it away! That’s just not fair!”

“Don’t worry.” Marinette assured them. “It’s going where all my blackmail material goes.”

“Wait what?”

“Since when do you have blackmail material?”

“Since somebody started a game of ‘let’s take pictures of Marinette while she’s asleep and post them online’.” Marinette replied dryly.

Nino groaned. “Come on! I said I was sorry!”

“And now I can be just as sorry.” She replied blithely.

Which was to say: not sorry at all.

“Come on! Alya made me do it!”

“It was just in fun! Marinette! Please!”

“Do you want me to beg? Cry? I’ll cry.”

“I’ll pay you! Pretty please! At least the heroes if nothing else!”

“Oh no you don’t!”

“My blog NEEDS this!”

Marinette smiled at the minor chaos she had caused as the normally happy couple bickered with each other.

Sweet sweet music.

“Hey, Marinette!”

And speaking of sweet…

She turned to look up at a certain blond-haired model as he arrived at his own desk. Though he seemed to be a bit distracted by the arguing couple.

“Hey, Adrien!” She greeted, for once with no stutter to speak of.

“Hey, um…are they okay?” He asked, gesturing to the two.

“Oh, they’re fine.” She said, waving them off. “Just…a bit excited over the recent akuma.”

At that, Adrien brightened. “Wasn’t it awesome?”

She nodded, trying to keep her laughter inside.

“You…ah…enjoyed yourself then?”

Adrien shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. “Well, it’s not often I get to dress up in a way that’s ‘silly’. Or in anything that isn’t promoting Father’s brand. And I’ve never gotten to cosplay. So it was…really fun.”

Oh. Ouch. Okay, that one kind of hurt. The poor Sunshine Child…

“You know…” Marinette said, leaning over her desk and smiling at him. “I’ve seen a bit of that one anime you mentioned.”

“Cells at Work?” He asked, brightening up.

She nodded. “Mmhmm. I could make you a jacket based off the lead Red Blood Cell. And if you like, I can keep it so you can wear it whenever we hang out.”

He gasped. “Really?”

“Sure! Maybe you can come over sometime so we can try a fitting. We could even play Mecha Strike.”

Adrien beamed. “That sounds great! Thanks, Marinette!”

She waved him off and went back to full sitting in her seat.

Alya and Nino both became distracted from their arguing by the miracle they had just witnessed.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had just spoken to Adrien Agreste…and not a stutter to be heard!

“What the heck, girl?” Alya whispered, sliding into her seat beside her friend. “Since when could you do THAT and why haven’t you done it sooner? I could swear I saw hearts in his eyes!”

Marinette shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “After seeing Adrien Agreste in a maid dress, I kind of wondered why I was so scared of talking to him to begin with.”

Alya laughed. “Well, at least something good came out of this, then.”

“You know...more good WOULD come out of this if I had pics of those heroes..." 

“Really, Alya?”

“You’re pretty much the only one who managed to get any shots of the male heroes!” Alya exclaimed. “Seriously, how?!”

Marinette giggled.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

________________________

OMAKE 1:

Knock! Knock!

“Felix?” His mother called on the other side of the locked and barricaded door. “Will you be coming out?”

“That depends. Do you have a camera?”

A pause. Which was all the answer he needed.

“Then no.”

OMAKE 2:

Fortunately, in the midst of their searching, the team had managed to find the akuma and her primary target, getting between the two.

“So what happened?” Ladybug asked him.

John gripped his skirt, nervously. “She’s my coworker in developing a new video game and she didn’t like my input.”

“What set her off?”

The guy rolled his eyes. “She’s one of those types who wants to take the fun out of video games.”

“What?” Ladybug blinked.

“Okay, so I wanted to put some maid costumes in the game! It was just for fun! Besides, it would have added a bit of pizazz! Something for the players to enjoy!”

“You could just try making a good game.” Pegasus pointed out. “If you have to rely on a cheap gimmick to get buyers, it may not be a good product.”

"I'm sorry, really! I mean, sure, I'm still going to put it in the game, because who wouldn't want hot maids, but still! That doesn't mean I deserve this!"

The akuma raised her fist and shouted at him. “THEY ARE HEROES, DAMMIT! THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN MAID SKINS JUST BECAUSE THEY’RE GIRLS!”

Ladybug blanched. “Wait…is the game about me?”

Pegasus coughed and looked away. “There have been…rumors, yes.”

Viperion tilted his head. “That seems like a double standard though…since we’re the ones in maid outfits...”

“Not the point, Viperion!”

Ladybug frowned.

“I don’t think I want to help now.”

“Ladybug!”