you won't make yourself a name if you follow the rules

from blame it on the (t)rain, the second chronologically in Friday (I'm In Love):

Vanessa Michel, store manager of the flagship boutique of Gabriel Fashions, folds her arms and does not, quite, glare at the supposed Aurélien Dubois, or at his CV full of lies. Studying fundamental sciences at Paris-Saclay University? Possible. Bakery cashier? Not likely. "So are we filming an episode of Patron incognito," she asks, "or are they launching Celebrity Undercover Boss: France?"

Adrien Agreste winces. "Father thinks I should start taking on responsibility for the family holdings. He isn't happy about the job I already had, either—it isn't somewhere he could control, you understand," he explains, toying with the ring on his left hand and not meeting her eyes.

(ETA: I did not realize for hours that I posted the first tidbit of the "Marinette and Adrien steal Gabriel's company out from under him" story on Father's Day!)

(via china_shop)

Comment with a word. If it's in my WIP, I'll reply with the sentence it appears in.

because I'm helpful like that, I will also tell you which WIP

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ETA: apparently I'm taking "I don't have this or anything close to this in any of my WsIP" as "time to write until I do!"

from "Tuesday's Child", and yes I already know it's probably going to be novella-length like Ariaste's "Attempting the Impossible" and Speranza's "With Six You Get Eggroll" before it and therefore I will want to post it as not a one-shot and therefore setting off the title with quotes instead of italics is me kidding myself:

Not that Émilie, armed with absolutely nothing except diplomacy and pink-enameled fingernails, will be able to do a single bit of good for anyone. But Adrien still lives in the mansion Émilie bought, and would have had no reason to remove her voice print from the security access list; Gabriel's personal phone line is still active, though with a recorded tenor voice she doesn't entirely recognize saying "You have reached the voicemail of Adrien Agreste" instead of Gabriel's familiar brusque baritone; and though she has neither her brooch nor either Miraculous, that is undoubtedly for the entirely sensible reason that someone might steal them far more easily from her bedside than from her safe. Once she's home, she'll be able to make real plans.

—What on God's green earth have people done to her courtyard wall?

The mural is beautiful, Émilie must admit: a small turtle tussling with a black kitten among marigolds and sunflowers; a large bee and a purple butterfly hovering over yellow cinquefoils and white chrysanthemums; a fox kit hiding in a patch of chamomile, poised to pounce on an oversized ladybeetle in flight. But why is there a mural? Eleven years later or no, Gabriel would never allow—

from "Transposer":

"Oh no, you don't understand," called a cheerful voice, a half step to the left of familiar. "I'm transgenre. I'm transitioning from rom-com fantasy to magical-girl drama." The speaker, bouncing around the lobby out of reach of the akuma's scarf-whip, was unmistakably Chat Noir, though with shoulder-length hair and—

"Are those kitten heels?" Ladybug asked, incredulous. It could be worse, at least: the new shoes were still steel-toed and now pointed, and he could have gone for a taller, equally narrow stiletto heel.

"You know I've mastered the catwalk."

everything I've been writing is where the firelight fades spoilers, so have a bit I should've posted for Six Sentence Sunday a couple weeks ago, from three square meals for three-squared lives (or: the saddest hungriest cat in all Paris):

The loveliness of ladybugs whisked through the bakery, lights coming on and both warming and refrigerated displays humming back to life. Sabine mimed mopping sweat off her forehead, and Mme Lahiffe murmured (or mouthed or shouted, for all Sabine could tell) a thankful prayer. "OH, GOOD," said Tom over the growl of the generator, "I'LL GO TURN OFF THE GENERATOR."

Outside, Chat Noir held out his fist for the heroes' usual victory sign, smiling, and Ladybug bypassed this in favor of flinging herself into his arms. His wide-eyed, quiver-tailed startlement melted after a moment into something softer and gentler, hidden seconds later behind a flattening mouth and worriedly flicking cat ears as she lifted her head. "—and meet me," Sabine could hear her say, as the generator grumbled to a stop.

from the currently untitled (because I haven't found the right pun yet) story in which Chat Noir, certified actual cat, has never been fed ever, he is but skin and bone, Paris cares not for us—which I remember telling myself was not going to be an angstfest, though it did not then occur to me to tell myself not to make it need the Character Death tag that it in fact needs:

"Lucky Charm!" Ladybug shouts, whipping her yo-yo after the escaping purple butterfly almost before the Charm itself bursts into being.

Chat leaps to snatch first the falling toddler, then the fluttering Charm out of the air—it's a takeout menu for Marigold Garden decorated in black-dotted red; the restaurant itself is down the block—and scan the area for any sign of Hawkmoth or Mayura.

"Bye bye, little butterfly. Miraculous Ladybug!"

The sparkling ladybugs swirl briefly and vanish. The sidewalk doesn't repair itself. Neither does August's mother's skull.

from "Privacy Policy", sequel to "Terms and Conditions" by Socchan:

"I fell in a puddle of pink peroxide."

"Pink peroxide."

"Hey, these things happen! Weirder things happen all the time! …What happened is, a few weeks ago I realized I am not currently contractually obligated to look any specific way. So several of my friends broke out their dye stashes, and I took one look at that rainbow of possibilities, and I handed the decision over to my friend with the best eye for color. And half of my friends are shocked my hair's now shocking pink, and the other half would be shocked if it weren't."

from "j'ai rêvé (so I don't have to dream alone)":

The scene was rockin', all were digging the sounds, they have an audience, but that's background. The pose that's more obviously tango, her left leg has to cross between both their right legs—she can't step on him, her ass—when her right foot can just move sideways when they move forward, before her left foot joins it. Slow, slow, quick quick slow, quick quick slow. Back, back, quick stop check, cross side close. And they're dancing the tango to 'Monster Mash', and Alya will never ever let her live this down.

Igor and the mad scientist and the drum set fade out; a sultry slide down the xylophone takes up the cheerful new melody.

from "j'ai rêvé (so I don't have to dream alone)", which apparently I'm not posting on Halloween after all (fucking bodies):

"Maman taught me," Adrien says. Maman is to blame for Adrien ever having heard this earworm, too. "Your hands go here and here—" He places one on his right shoulder, hooks his arm under hers, and takes her other hand. "—elbows stay forward, knees stay a bit bent, perfect. And I'm leading, so you cannot possibly step on my feet," he adds, mostly to get that exact amused huff.

The best bit is it's entirely true.

from nine lives, snake's eyes:

Adrien wraps his arms around [Marinette]; Nino hugs them both for all he's worth. "She would have turned forty-two yesterday," Adrien murmurs, and huffs, as though something's amusing. "Father still does not know where his towel is, and I don't think he wants to."

"—Huh?" Also, ew. If Nino must imagine one of the Agrestes naked, then teasing Adrien about showering during akuma attacks in hopes of showing Ladybug the goods is much more fun.