hat embroidery

need refs/inspo for period clothing?

here you go:

lots of periods in one spot/fashion through centuries:

it indeed is western/european centric, I’m sorry for that, but for other cultures I simply don’t have so many references

ALSO note that most of the pictures show historical clothing from the upper classes or more festive clothing of the lower/working class because normal working clothes wouldn’t survive for such a long time, and the clothes were often re-used over and over again!

Two Types of Gravity: An Adrien Fic

Let it be known Adrien Agreste loves science. His favorite subject is physics.

Physics is easy, physics is constant, and gravity will always be 9.8 meters per second squared. Ladybug will always be that constant.

What does that even mean, anyway? Meters per second squared? It sounds like a fictional variable just for math.

During a photo shoot, Adrien calculates what gravity really means. It’s roughly 35 kilometers an hour or 22 miles per hour.

That doesn’t feel fast enough; he thinks while riding home in the backseat. He remembers falling from RogerCop’s car; it had to be faster than that. He tries again, that’s 32 feet per second.

Oh.

In perspective, he reasons while fingers run through a classic masterpiece and his instructor keeping time behind him, that’s ten seconds. Ten seconds to fall from the top of the Eiffel Tower to reach the ground. He’s dived that over a dozen times with Ladybug. Each time he’s thought those leaps were too long, the rate he fell for the spotted heroine was faster than that.

Because with Ladybug, the pull of gravity is immediate and obvious. She leaps: he falls. People are pulled to her in an instant. An Akuma trying to escape her is like trying to leave the atmosphere.

Adrien sits as Chat Noir from the rooftop of the Trocadero, watching his lady gaze out to the tower beyond. She is the gravity that keeps Paris safe. There is logic and sense and normalcy. There is no danger of floating away; there is no danger in the unpredictable. She is his 9.8 meters per second squared. She is his gravity.

Ladybug is the apple to his Isaac Newton. Both fell from the sky, both leave a man dizzy.

And yet…

And yet, he suspects there’s a different kind of gravity at play.

Let it be known Adrien Agreste loves science. Lately, he’s taken an interest in Geology.

He read once that it’s impossible to travel in a straight line. That, the further he is from the equator the tighter the circle he will travel, leading back to where he came. He read it had to deal with the earth and magnetic fields. He read it had to do with gravity trying to pull him to the earth’s molten core. It’s not an obvious thing, by the time someone realizes they’re not walking straight anymore, it’s too late, the circle is almost done. This aspect of gravity is a barely acknowledged fact, like how toilets flush in opposite directions depending on the hemisphere.

Except, he thinks, that’s not a good example. (Even if Chloe thinks otherwise)

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is his sudden interest in Geology. It starts as a paired project, where Alya snags Nino as her partner before Adrien can reach out. Marinette is nervous around him, though he doesn’t know why. She stutters, stumbles, and flails in ever extravagant fashion; he wonders how she can create a bowler hat with delicate embroidery if all she does is make large gestures. He thinks one of these people have to be true: Bowler Hat Marinette or Nervous Marinette.

Adrien discovers Bowler Hat Marinette is tried and true. She is shy, there’s no question, but the flailing and stutters are just nerves. Her pink room, strewn with fabric and clothes have the care and calm of someone who is at ease with themselves, who welcomes any and all that come her way as if she has a gravity of her own.

He finds himself turning to look at her at school, dropping by her balcony clad in a catsuit after patrol, offering to study together in his limited free time. He’s caught in a circle, no matter how much he tries to correct his path, he winds up at her side.

If there was a straight path to loving Ladybug, he supposes he got off course. Adrien circles Marinette, discovering it’s this aspect of gravity that leads him home. Marinette is home; this is his barely acknowledged fact.

She is not loud like Ladybug. She doesn’t leap so Adrien can fall. She is not the immediate cause and effect of physics. Everything about her is quiet, subtle.

He thinks her quiet gravity will easily take over his lady’s someday.

He thinks, while setting his book bag on his desk, he should start looking into Geophysics, should he ever escape his modeling career.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a different kind of gravity than Ladybug. His eyes still gravitate to the both of them, but he doesn’t have to fight with or against Marinette’s pull. He surrenders to it.

Adrien hears her laugh, so he turns, just a little bit more away from Ladybug, and towards the door Marinette pushes open, giggling at a joke.

Let it be known Adrien Agreste loves science. He loves it almost as much as he loves Ladybug. And as much as he keeps turning, Adrien may just love Marinette even more.



Wrote this as a way to explain sibling characters to a friend. Hmmm, dunno if I did it justice. 

Greek God Aesthetics
  • zeus: pastel yellow bike rides along the dreary empty highway. clouds crushed under the wind. uneasily swaying powerlines overhead.
  • poseiden: seagulls fighting over bread, university sweatshirts and the winter ocean. shoes thrown to the wind and exhausting games of beach volleyball with not enough players
  • hera: cold lemonade on the front porch, long taffeta skirts blowing in the wind. hydrangea bushes blooming in rows, red ants crawling in the blue bushels
  • hestia: clean sheets, straw hats with ribbons. framed embroidery and fraying pillows. hanging bushels of herbs, thick and full as a bouquet. bits of dried leaves on the floor
  • hermes: old shoes thrown over a phone line, sitting on the curb and feeling the heat absorbed by the pavement. 90 degree weather and sweatshirts. snippets of other people's conversations
  • athena: a single droplet destroying the calm of a lake. misty mornings. soft goose calls. stinging cold morning air, cheeks burning with exhaustion on the morning jog
  • artemis: smoking by the window so your parents don't smell it. hiding things in the lining of your shoes. bugs crawling out from under a book, triumph of catching them with a shoe
  • aries: old diners and motorcycles, driving around town in the middle of the night. other cars fly by in a sea of headlights. a radio playing the old hits.
  • apollo: the sharp glint of sunlight when driving home. being stuck in traffic, flipping through radio stations and finding nothing but commercials. someone in the fast lane drives by with the most beautiful music playing
  • aphrodite: a mouthful of rose petals, over-sized sweaters and thick thighs with cellulite stripes. an hour preparing for a selfie and the one of the false eyelashes keeps coming off.
  • hephaestus: gum wrappers twisted into shapes. tearing up strips of paper to make paper stars. mechanical pencils that no longer work, but you still push lead sticks in
  • demeter: farmer's market stands closed down for the year, but weeds and grasses throng through the fences. little blue flowers bloom through the cracks in the sidewalk
  • persephone: picnics in unexpected places, old bridges and train tracks. evergreen forests dripping with water, moss covered boulders touched by hands with pink painted nails
  • hades: early shifts. the quiet highways before the sun has risen, the world darkness and neon glowing signs. driving with the windows down, cool air soothing nausea