#mlle and m are mademoiselle and monsieur

[meet-the-thenardiers]

Disney X Les Misérables

1. Jean Valjean - I imagine two characters "playing" him. In his younger years (before he was arrested, and sent to the galleys) I imagine him as Aladdin. And when he is older, I imagine him as Cassim.

I don't know how many people will remember this character (or this movie) but he is Aladdin's father and first appears in Aladdin and the King of Thieves (1996)

2. Fantine - I know that many people relate the character of Cinderella to Cosette (which is fair), but her appearance in the Disney films really reminds me of the Fantine, and how she described in the books:

"She was called Fantine because she had never been known by any other name [...] She had gold and pearls for her dowry; but the gold was on her head and the pearls in her mouth."

3. Euphrasie "Cosette" Fauchelevent - Okay, for Cosette I imagined these three characters for each "stage" of her life. The first two images are of Penny from The Rescuers (1977), and would represent her around the time she was rescued by Jean Valjean. The third is Princess Eilonwy from Black Cauldron (1985), who would represent Cosette at 12-14 years old, when she left the Petit-Picpus convent. And lastly, Princess Aurora would be her at 16-17 years old.

Also, I just noticed that while in the novel her hair is described to get darker over the years, here it seems like it has gotten lighter.

4. M. Thénardier - Dr. Facilier as Monsieur Thénardier, that's it! I could list a few reasons why I think these two fit together perfectly, but I think the decisive one for me is Facilier's expression in the masked ball scene (that would be the second image). It reminds me of the part of the novel where M. Thénardier sees Marius and Cosette's wedding procession during the Mardi Gras.

5. Bishop Myriel - The Archdeacon from The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996). Yeah, I don't think there's much to explain about this one. Besides the two (in a way) being part of a work by Victor Hugo, their personalities and appearances fit together very well.

I also thought of Friar Tuck from Robin Hood, and more specifically, the anthropomorphic version of him that appears in the 1973 film.

6. Fauchelevent - For Fauchelevent I imagine Amos Slade from the movie The Fox and the Hound (1981). I remember that I didn't like this character when I was a kid, not necessarily because he was a hunter, but because of his "obsession" with capturing Tod. But looking back today, I believe it was because we were seeing the movie from the poor animals' point of view (I mean, his dog was hurt too).

But like Fauchelevent, I believe he is not necessarily a "bad guy" – perhaps a lonely, grumpy old man.

7. Monsieur Gillenormand and Mademoiselle Gillenormand - For Monsieur Luc-Esprit Gillenormand, I imagine his appearance to be similar to that of Georges Hautecourt from Aristocats (1970). And although the lawyer seems to be much more lively, pleasant and fun than M. Gillenormand, I really imagined his appearance to be something like that.

And for Mlle. Gillenormand, I picture Aunt Sarah from Lady and the Tramp (1955). Although I don't think Marius's aunt is as old as Aunt Sarah appears to be, so I picture her hair starting to turn gray, not completely white.

8. Toussaint - Last but not least: Nanny from 101 Dalmatians (1961) as Toussaint, the maid of Jean Valjean and Cosette. Let me tell you, to this day I find Nanny to be the most adorable female Disney character, the way she loves and cares for the Dalmatian puppies is just so cute, even in the live-action version.

[dolphin1812]

I love that the porter is basically having the mysterious-man-experience that Hugo wants us to have every time he introduces a strange man and reveals that he’s Jean Valjean.

“Monsieur Tranchelevent....”

Father Gillenormand did not do it intentionally, but inattention to proper names was an aristocratic habit of his.

“Monsieur Tranchelevent, I have the honor of asking you, on behalf of my grandson, Baron Marius Pontmercy, for the hand of Mademoiselle.”

Monsieur Tranchelevent bowed.”

I love that Hugo goes with it in the narrative, but I hate that this probably reflects Valjean’s lack of self-respect, not even correcting his fake name.

Cosette’s description of Marius’ wounds is incredibly disturbing, reminding us of just how badly the fighting affected him physically (not to mention mentally). She also presents his fighting as an interpersonal choice rather than a political one, but given that she had no context for him leaving like this, she is more justified in doing so than Gillenormand.

Hugo’s description of Mlle Gillenormand as a “failure” for not marrying is so insulting. And so are M Gillenormand’s comments along the same lines, although at least we know anything he says is questionable.

Their wedding is very much a projection of wealth already, with Gillenormand searching for a fancy church rather than one they have actual ties to. Marius and Cosette love each other, but their marriage is about projecting a bourgeois ideal from its inception.

That reminder that Courfeyrac is dead was jarring and tragic. Marius is really so isolated now, which makes his upcoming marriage scary. He has no one to rely on outside of Cosette and his grandfather, and I don’t think Gillenormand - who was horrible before and now doesn’t contradict him - is all that reliable.

And poor Valjean! He only speaks to prove that Cosette has the money to be comfortable because her comfort is all he cares about.

[pedanther]

Il va sans dire qu’il avait emporté avec la plus scrupuleuse exactitude jusqu’au dernier paul de la somme qui lui avait été allouée pour son voyage, et pour la récompense de la façon majestueuse et solennelle avec laquelle il avait joué son rôle de père.

He had spent every farthing that had been allowed for his journey as a reward for the majestic and solemn manner in which he had maintained his assumed character of father.

It goes without saying that he had taken with him the amount allocated for his journey – and as a reward for the solemn and dignified way in which he had played his role of father – scrupulously counted down to the last paul.

-

—Je n’en réponds pas, dit Monte-Cristo. On m’a présenté son père comme marquis, il serait comte; mais je crois que lui-même n’a pas grande prétention à ce titre. —Pourquoi? dit le banquier. S’il est prince, il a tort de ne pas se vanter. Chacun son droit. Je n’aime pas qu’on renie son origine, moi.

“I will not answer for it,” said Monte Cristo. “His father was introduced to me as a marquis, so he ought to be a count; but I do not think he has much claim to that title.” “Why?” said the banker. “If he is a prince, he is wrong not to maintain his rank; I do not like any one to deny his origin.”

“I can’t guarantee it,” Monte Cristo said. “His father was introduced to me as a marquis, he could be a count; but I think that he doesn’t even make any great claim to the title himself.” “Why not?” said the banker. “If he is a prince, he is wrong not to boast of it. Every man has his rights. Personally, I don’t like those who renounce their origins.”

-

Mais pour en revenir à nos adorables chanteurs, vous devriez nous faire un plaisir, monsieur Danglars: sans les prévenir qu’il y a là un étranger, vous devriez prier Mlle Danglars et M. Cavalcanti de commencer un autre morceau. C’est une chose si délicieuse que de jouir de la musique d’un peu loin, dans une pénombre, sans être vu, sans voir et, par conséquent, sans gêner le musicien, qui peut ainsi se livrer à tout l’instinct de son génie ou à tout l’élan de son cœur.

But to return to the charming musicians—you should give us a treat, Danglars, without telling them there is a stranger. Ask them to sing one more song; it is so delightful to hear music in the distance, when the musicians are unrestrained by observation.

But to come back to our delightful songsters – you should do something for us, Monsieur Danglars: without telling them that there is a stranger here, you should ask Mademoiselle Danglars and Monsieur Cavalcanti to begin another piece. It is such an exquisite pleasure to enjoy music from a distance, in the shadows, without seeing or being seen, and so without embarrassing the musician, who can thus abandon himself or herself to all the impulses of genius and the transports of the heart.

-

—Eh bien, oui, je l’avoue, je vois avec peine que, connaissant vos engagements avec les Morcerf, il vienne ainsi se jeter en travers et abuser de sa fortune.» Danglars se mit à rire. «Oh! que vous êtes puritain! dit-il, mais cela se fait tous les jours dans le monde.

“Well, I acknowledge it annoys me, knowing your connection with the Morcerf family, to see him throw himself in the way.” Danglars burst out laughing. “What a Puritan you are!” said he; “that happens every day.”

“Well, no, I confess I am sorry to see that, knowing your arrangement with the Morcerfs, he should interfere with it in this way and take advantage of his wealth.” Danglars began to laugh. “What a Puritan you are!” he said. “It happens every day in society.”

-

—Ah! baron, baron, dit Albert, vous nous empêchez d’entendre: pour un mélomane comme vous quelle barbarie!

“Ah, baron, baron,” said Albert, “you are not listening—what barbarism in a megalomaniac like you!”

“Please, baron, please!” said Albert. “We can’t hear a thing. What an outrage – from a music-lover like yourself, too!”

-

Mais que pour cette fois cela se fasse d’une manière explicite et définitive, surtout qu’il me demande ma fille, qu’il fixe une époque, qu’il déclare ses conditions d’argent, enfin que l’on s’entende ou qu’on se brouille; mais, vous comprenez, plus de délais.

But let it be done explicitly and positively. If he demands my daughter let him fix the day—declare his conditions; in short, let us either understand each other, or quarrel. You understand—no more delay.

And this time let’s have it all done clearly and definitively: he can ask me for my daughter’s hand, set a date, talk about the dowry... In short, let’s shake hands on it or shake fists, but no more delays, you understand...

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

When the Longing Returns (Phantom of the Opera 2004 Fanfiction) || Erik x Christine

Chapter 4 Author's Notes

Read the fic here on Tumblr, or on AO3

◇ Raoul was started rather rudely awake by Mme. Giry rapping her stick against the leg of his chair, and made to leave the immediate vicinity.

Abbreviation of the French title "Madame". "Mademoiselle" being "Mlle." And "Monsieur" being "M." (Plural "Messieurs" being MM.)

◇ Her parting wish was also affectionate. She couldn't help that, though he was older than she, he was still the soft-hearted boy who had retrieved her red scarf from the surf

Exact ages are always of some debate in this story. We know that in the book (and presumably the play also--although given musical theater casting conventions, its understandable why they keep it vague) Christine and Raoul are about the same age (twenty at least).

However this fic is based on the movie, in which Christine's age is sixteen. Whether you choose to accept this exact age in my story is entirely up to your discretion--the birthdate that confirms her age appears on her gravestone in the 1919 tag on the film; which doesn't exist in my canon because I've altered the timeline. So I'm also keeping it vague--Christine could be as old as nineteen in this story.

Patrick Wilson was thirty during filming and, though a very fresh-faced thirty, he most definitely is not passable as being near Christine's age. Raoul would have to be, at the very least, three or four years older than Christine (so 20-24). This would make Raoul ten or eleven during their summer in Brittany.

An even more believable scenario to me, however, is that Raoul was fourteen (seven years older than Christine, making him now 24-28) when they met, and he took the trouble to keep her company when her father was engaged as his music tutor (not something many fourteen year old viscounts would do, even those lacking for company their own age), which caused her to develop a crush on him. This age gap might explain why Raoul is so patronizingly overprotective of her.

It's notable that in the film, Raoul does not share Christine's experience of growing up without parents (unlike in the book), while Erik (though not orphaned, presumably abandoned) does. This not only removes any potential for Raoul  and Christine bonding over that trauma as they do in the book, it also puts them on more uneven footing in terms of maturity. Christine's circumstances have put her in a position in which (though still sheltered and relatively innocent) she has matured faster, while Raoul's petted and privileged life as a rich only child with both parents still living has allowed him to stagnate in his rather charmed youth a good while longer.

◇ She opened it, and withdrew a beautiful pair of ivory silk slippers embroidered with blue and yellow flowers.

It has always bothered me that Christine goes to the lair in her stocking feet in the movie. The idea that Erik would allow that—ludicrous. So I’m indulging a little bit here by having him specifically make sure Christine’s tootsies are warm and dry. Victorian evening and bedroom slippers were less sharply defined than you might think. It was common for both to have heels or to be flat. Christine’s slippers here have only a small heel, as that would be more comfortable for her.

◇ She debated whether to tie her hair back... she seemed to recall it somehow coming undone the last time she traveled down into the tunnels below the opera.

I am not above meta references, as you will see. I noticed that the exact moment when Christine's hair is first seen completely loose is when she is riding César.

Here is Christine as she is when she steps through the mirror with her perfect neat halo and smooth curls

Here we can see they've changed to the more voluminous style. Sexier, but still up...

And this is the next shot as they round the corner, and her hair is now completely loose.

My Watsonian (ie in-universe) explanation for this is that Erik snatched whatever ribbon was tying her hair back when he helped her mount the horse.

◇ She picked up the black ribbon she'd used to tie her hair that morning, pulling it through her fingers thoughtfully, and then suddenly remembered exactly how she had come by it: tied around a red rose.

Christine's hair is tied with a black ribbon in "Twisted Every Way"

It's probably too wide to be the ribbon from Erik's rose, but this is what gave me the idea.

I'd love to know exactly what Christine's state of mind was between the First Lair and Il Muto. My thought is, probably confused. Erik clearly jump-started her repressed Victorian sexuality with Music of the Night, but then they both mucked it up with the unmasking and the aftermath, so then those wonderful new feelings she experienced because of him are tainted with negativity and fear, as I explored in the first chapter. But it seems possible to me that when the rose withered, she kept the ribbon and has been subconsciously using it to tie her hair all this time.

◇ But Mathilde Giry knew that Christine would never swear on her father's grave unless her conviction was entirely sober.

I'm very annoyed that in the novel we learn the name of Mme. Giry's late husband ("Jules") but not hers.

So I made this up--this name has no basis in canon, nor in any other off-shoot properties. I don't know why, but Miranda Richardson's Mme. Giry just seems like a 'Mathilde' to me.

Perhaps it's because whenever my dog Matty, who we nicknamed 'Matilda', does something particularly annoying I have a tendency to call her "Mathilde" with a very Miranda Richardson-esque hissy French accent.

I put this to a vote here on Tumblr, with the other option being "Julie" (a play on her husband's name in the book) and this won by quite a margin.

Quite by coincidence, after finishing this chapter, I learned that the name of the victim in Gaston Leroux's acclaimed locked-room mystery story The Mystery of the Yellow Room (who also appears in its follow-up, The Perfume of the Lady in Black) happens to be "Mathilde". I swear I had no knowledge of that fact until after the chapter was finished. This is a complete coincidence. I mean, "Mathilde" isn't an uncommon name in France, but at the same time it's not one you pull off the top of your head either. I was very taken aback to find that my chosen name had ties to Leroux's works.

◇ He'd gone out the previous night and scanned the shop windows until he found those exquisite confections of ivory satin, and blue and yellow silk thread. Christine loved blue.

This is a little headcanon of mine; that Erik knows Christine’s favorite color when Raoul doesn’t. Raoul thinks that her favorite color is red, because of her red scarf, but actually, it’s blue.

◇ Her mouth was rather broad, which he understood was not considered the ideal of beauty by Tout-Paris. It was no demure bud fit only for petty conversation, but a rose in full bloom, made to open wide and pour out the hallowed tones of music… and other sacred tones which he hoped, soon, to draw from her.

Emmy Rossum (who is the basis for this Christine), though undeniably gorgeous by modern standards, very much bucks 19th century beauty ideals. The ideal Victorian beauty had a small, round face; graceful, sloping shoulders; large eyes, and a tiny, rosebud mouth. Contrast that with Emmy’s high shoulders and broad mouth and you can see that, though perhaps “pretty”, her Christine would likely be considered somewhat scrawny and gawky.

Tout-Paris is a French expression: literally translated, it means “All of Paris”, but it specifically refers to Paris’s fashionable elite, similar to the concept of “The Ton” in England. This expression is used by Leroux in the novel when he first introduces the character “Known by all of fashionable Paris as ‘The Persian’”.

◇ "The stone is Alexandrite," he explained.

Finally the last details on the ring! The stone is, as Erik says, Alexandrite.

You'll forgive my terrible photo editing skills. This is exactly how I imagine the ring, and the setting runs very close to Ramin Karimloo's ring in the 25th Anniversary at the Royal Albert Hall.

Alexandrite was a relatively new gemstone in the mid-nineteenth century. It was discovered in the Ural mountains of Russia in the 1830's. As it was noted to shift colors between red and green (the national colors of imperial Russia) it became the national gem and was named after the Czar. Because of its novelty it became very much in demand for jewelry throughout Europe and Asia minor.

As with all gems, symbolism was attached to it; in this case the symbolism shifts with the color. Appearing green in natural light, it became associated with decisiveness and clarity of thought, as well as hope and resolution; in firelight the gem takes on a hot red tone which symbolizes passionate emotion and romantic love. Given these two sides of the stone, those who attribute certain powers to gemstones believe the use of Alexandrite to be beneficial when making important decisions regarding matters of the heart. (In Ch. 3, Christine notes that she feels clear-headed when she holds and looks at it 😉)

Though I don't put sway in such ideas myself, it seemed fitting to me, given the magnitude of the choice Christine made in the cemetery, that the ring Erik gives her should have such symbolism as would encourage and validate her resolve in her decision.

Interestingly enough, I actually made the choice of Alexandrite for the ring simply based off of its neutral smoky teal-gray color before I even checked the symbolism.

The smoky teal-gray neutral tone above mentioned. You can imagine the ring like this if you're more into the John Owen-Jones style

As you can see, Erik's ring in the musical is usually a polished black stone, probably onyx or maybe jet (though some have had red stones). I decided not to use either of these because their association are generally not very positive, given the context. Jet is associated with healing and grief, and, while onyx is apparently sometimes meant to ward off unwanted romantic attentions, it usually just represents death or mourning--hence my choice to swap it for an alternative dark(ish) stone. (Although maybe the onyx would be useful for putting Raoul off lol!)

◇ "I acquired it in Persia"

I am genuinely trying to stick to movie canon as much as possible for consistency. However, though Madame Giry says that since she helped him escape he has known nothing of the world outside of the Opera house, this is a movie specific change I can't quite truck with.

Having read the book, I can't imagine Erik without having made the disastrous life-choices that Persia presents to his character. I think it's essential to his character development, gives his proficiency with assassination context, and is probably the root of his sense of grandeur. So this, like the ring, is another way that I'm deviating from the movie canon, even though it's still the primary basis for this fic.

◇ Christine and Meg went often to the stables to feed the horses, and had fed César treats from their very own hands almost daily.

This is a nod book canon:

I was startled to hear a joyful neighing and I murmured, "César!" The horse quivered... I'd recognized César, the white horse from Le Prophète. I used to pamper him by feeding him delicacies. One night there was a rumor backstage that he'd disappeared and been stolen by the Opera Ghost. [Trans. Lowell Bair, 1990]

Like, how was I not going to include references to this? Leroux makes it clear earlier in the book that César is the smartest horse in the stable, so of course that's the horse Erik would steal to be their steed, but then Christine confirms that she is familiar with César and often went to visit him and feed him!? And César recognizes her, too?! Like hello?! Could I just let that slip by?

◇ M. Lachenal, the head groom, was even more upset. He was certain the Opera Ghost had been the culprit. And he had been right.

Book character! M. Lachenal is the head groom in the novel, and he absolutely delighted me:

"We don't have need for more than four stablemen for twelve horses!"

"Eleven," said the head riding master, correcting him.

"Twelve," repeated Richard.

"Eleven," repeated Lachenal.

"Oh, the acting manager told me that you had twelve horses!"

"I did have twelve, but I have only eleven since Cesar was stolen."

And M. Lachenal gave himself a great smack on the boot with his riding crop.

"Has César been stolen?" Cried the acting manager. "César? The white horse in Le Prophète?"

"There are no two Césars," said the stud-groom dryly. "I was ten years at Franconi's and I have seen plenty of horses in my time. Well, there are no two Césars. And he's been stolen." [Trans. Alexander de Mattos, 1911]

What a character! I had to include him, even if it's just a mention.

◇ They didn't speak, because the Phantom had begun to sing from Roméo et Juliette

Either Gounod was a very popular composer at the time, or Leroux just really loved his work because he's he most referenced composer in the novel. Primarily Faust, but Romeo et Juliette is also frequently mentioned.

After the masquerade, when Erik comes to meet Christine in her dressing room, he is singing the "Wedding Night Song" from Act IV of this opera.

I could easily have used that duet, but I thought even Erik, under the circumstances in my story, would consider that too forward. So I opted for the iconic confession scene on the balcony from Act II instead (here is the performance I used as reference while writing this scene). It seemed appropriate given that Christine is elevated, and Erik is singing up to her.

What really sold me were a Romeo's opening lines:

"Ô nuit ! sous tes ailes obscures

Abrite-moi!

(O night, beneath thy dark wings,

Shelter me!)".

The dance around identities and names also seemed apropos; and the comparison of Juliet as a "bright and enchanting star" I thought tied in nicely with Christine's "Star Princess" aesthetic for the masquerade in the play.

◇ His rendition would ruin this song for her forever; not even the most mellifluous of lyric tenors would ever be able to do it justice.

I'm half meta dunking on Raoul here: Romeo is traditionally a lyric tenor, but Patrick Wilson also happens to be a lyric tenor.

◇ "My father's surname was Vachon, but I don't remember if my mother ever gave me a Christian name," he said

Erik's surname: the eternal poto white whale.

So many adaptations have attempted to give him one, but none have ever quite satisfied me. By far the most successful, I think, was "Destler" from the 1989 film with Robert Englund.

I could easily have used that name, but while reading M. Grant Kellermeyer's 2018 annotated, restored version of the 1911 translation, I came across this name, "Vachon", as the name of the [unsubstantiated] supposed inspiration for Erik. While Erik Vachon (a purportedly real disfigured architect who was employed in the building of the Palais Garnier) is likely a mere figure of urban legend, the name has its roots outside of Fandom spaces and extra-canon, and so I feel most comfortable using it.

It apparently means "Cow herder", and I additionally think that's a nice contrast to the rather lofty name he chose for himself, "Erik", which has multiple possible meanings including "eternal ruler", "sole/singular king" and "ever powerful"

◇ A few silent moments later, she glanced up at him and observed: "Erik is a Scandinavian name..."

Leroux reference: in the novel, Christine questions Erik about his name and origin over dinner, wondering if perhaps he is of Scandinavian descent, as the name Erik is originally Scandinavian, especially with the "k" spelling.

Here the tone is obviously different: while in the novel Christine is awkwardly casting about for conversation to fill the silence while he watches her eat (without eating anything himself, a very awkward and uncomfortable situation for anyone), here, Christine is testing the waters, feeling buoyed by the fresh sense of trust she feels from him.

[x688plsloveme]

Companions React To Sole Giving Them A Present

ADA: When presented with an entire "spa-day" of sorts by Sole as a thank you, Ada was...shocked. She was presented with every kind of oil, paint, and polish that she could think of. Sole told their companion that it meant a lot to them that she decided to stick around after avenging her old boss. She was free to use the workbench whenever she wanted to, to apply whatever she wanted to. Ada didn't know what to say. She hummed in the way she does when she's indicating a smile. "Thank you Sole."

CAIT: What better present to give their rough and tough friend than a nearly new customized super sledge? Sole held it out to her while Cait could just look with her jaw on the floor in disbelief. Sike smiled smugly at rendering her speechless. "Go ahead and take it. It's getting heavy." Cait didn't need to be told twice. She snatched it from her friend's grasp and swung it around a couple of times to get a feel for it. "This is amazing! Where d'ya get it?" Sole shrugged. "Off of a gunner captain who didn't know how to use it right, and I knew just the person that could use it properly." They finished with a wink. Cait turned around with an almost manic look on her face and happily exclaimed, "I'm gonna go kill something. Don't wait up." Sole laughed. "Wouldn't dream of it."

CODSWORTH: Sole's faithful robot butler wasn't big on material items, but that wouldn't stop them from trying to get him the best present ever. And after many weeks of trial and error with a certain bedroom safe, they finally got it. But when they presented it to Codsy, he was confused, they knew he would be. He had plenty of bowler hats already anyway. "Sir/Madame... I truly appreciate everything you give me, but I don't think I need any more hats..." Sole tried and failed to surprise their smile. "Ah, but this isn't just any old bowler hat Codsy, this belonged to me/my husband. It's been cooped up in that safe with the rest of our nice clothes, but I finally cracked it. I wanted you to have it to remind you that no matter what, you'll always be apart of my family." If Codsworth could cry he would. He settled for his "crying voice" and loudly saying thank you while trying his best to hug Sole. They just let him go through it while patting his head and hugging him proper.

CURIE: As a scientist first and foremost, Curie was always interested in animals. But Sole knew that she also really really loved them. And they seemed to live her right back. She was like a modern day snow white or something, but at least that made it easy to decide what to give her for being such a good friend all this time. As soon as they held up the bunny, Curie grabbed it and started cooking over it in that famous baby voice of hers that gets even angry deathclaws to calm down. "Awwwww. Aren't you just precious! Mon dieu! You need a name! What about Cotton Tail? Or Koo Koo?" This went on for some time and Sole was just watching her, endeared to no ends by one of their best friends. It took a little while before Curie even remembered that they were there at all. "Oh I am so sorry!" She gave them a quick hug, careful not to squish the bunny in-between them. "Merci beaucoup mlle/m! I must go and tend to this little darling." She started to leave in a hurry to get everything prepared for her new little friend and waved bye to Sole. They knew she'd react that way, and they were glad she liked it so much.

DANSE: Being a synth was wearing down Danse. Sole and everyone else could see. He wouldn't eat or sleep, and he would hardly move for days. Everyone did what they could, but nothing seemed to help. But that little detail  couldn't stop Sole from trying. They made a meal with all of Danse's favourite foods, deathclaw steak topped with muttfruit puree and a side of mashed potatoes, courtesy of their mutual friend, The Lone Wanderer. All Danse did for a long time was just stare silently at his food until Sole insisted he started eating. He broke down crying. "It doesn't matter! It wouldn't be real! My enjoyment, my full stomach, even these tears are fake! Just a program put in me. Nothing about me is real." Sole was heart broken to see their friend in this state. They hugged their friend and walked him through some breathing exercises until he calmed down enough for them to speak. "Don't say that Danse. You hurt, feel, and cry just like any other human. All your feelings are 100 percent genuine and if anyone says anything otherwise, they'll have to go through me!" Sole puffed out their chest and tried to look as tough as possible, which forced a laugh out of Danse. Even after crying, he still looked tougher than them. But he gets what they were going at. He pulls them in for a hug, his tears finally having dried up. "Thanks Sole. You're the best friend I got. Thanks to you I'm alive and thanks to your kindness I think I want to stay that way."

DEACON: There's not much that comes to mind when it comes to personal details on Deacon. He doesn't reveal much thanks to both his job and insecurities. There is one thing that they're sure of however. That Deacon really loves pranks. Or he just does them so much and laughs with such glee to completely fool everybody. Either way, he's gonna love his gift. If his laughing and hugs have anything to do with it, a prank kit really was the right idea. Sole gives themself a mental fistbumb and start brainstorming ideas with Deacon right away. This might start a prank war between everyone, but at least they'll have fun before Piper kills them all for replacing her shampoo bottle with a dead rat for the third time. Deacon and Sole snicker at that idea.

DOGMEAT: No dog will say no to anything you give them, especially not post-apocalypse dogs. So it's not very hard to spoil a dog, and boy is Dogmeat spoiled. With no shortage of wild, aggressive animals, he always gets fresh cuts of meat instead of kibble bits and bones to chew on. When they can, Sole collects bone marrow from deathclaws, arguably the best part, and dries them into dog treats for their dog. He can come and go as he pleases, but he'll always come to sleep next to Sole on their bed at night. He is their favourite person after all.

GAGE: Gage always seemed jealous that Sole had a dog and he didn't. He always dreamed about fighting alongside an utmost loyal companion that he could spoil rotten when they're not out killing things. After finding a beautiful pitti mutt scavenging on the outskirts of Nuka-World, Sole bought the information on when Gage's birthday is from the Operators, thankful that it was soon because they don't think they could keep the dog a secret for long. On his birthday, Sole brought in the dog and despite both parties' nervousness, they took to each other quite nicely. Gage started crying when she finally let him pet her. "Never tell anyone about today or I'll kill ya. Also... Thanks boss." Sole just laughed. "No promises."

HANCOCK: The only suitable present for a guy as wild as Hancock would be something as equally as wild. And what's better than a completely unhinged party with all the best booze and chems and closest friends? In the end, about 50 different people from all over the wasteland, including The Lone Wanderer and some of their friends from the Capitol Wasteland came to the party. It was the best the world's ever seen and by the end of it, Hancock was clinging to Sole drunken and high, telling them that they're the greatest thing that's ever happened to him and he's never been luckier to have such an amazing best friend.

MACCREADY: For such a scruffy looking guy, MacCready had a lot of caps saved up. He bought tons of stuff for his son and any other kid he comes across and wasn't lacking in necessities but there was one thing MacCready couldn't readily get with caps. And that was comic books. No one sold them, and a lot burned up or otherwise disenegrated during the last 200 years or so. Thankfully, Sole's collection of mint condition, first editions were still in tip top order when they dug them out of the safe they had burried a lifetime ago. They knew MacCready would flip when he saw their collection and they were right. He almost didn't believe that Sole would let him read these whenever he wanted. (as long as he washedhis hands first)

PIPER: Sole had never been short on caps after opening Nuka World back up to non sociopathic killers. It was about time to spend some of their excess wealth on one of their best friends. All Piper wanted was to expose the truth and give a better life to her sister. Sole decided that the sisters deserved something good. When Nat's birthday came around, Sole took her and Piper to a trip to the Capitol Wasteland where all the fancy clothing stores are. They let both of them pick whatever they wanted and introduced them to Lone while they were at it. Nat was in awe. She's heard stories about the famous Lone Wanderer, but to actually meet them up close? Was a dream come true. On the long trek back home, while they were setting up camp for the night, Piper came up to Sole and hugged them. "Thanks Blue. My sister hasn't had this much of a good time in a long, long while." Sole smiled at her. "Anytime Pipes."

PRESTON: Anyone who has spent 5 minutes with Preston knows that if asked what he would want for a gift, he would just say, "More food and water for the Commonwealth's people." If you haven't left within the next few minutes because he's asked you one to many times to help a settlement out, then you would know that he is completely genuine about it. He's just that kind of person. Enters Sole, who has absolutely no clue what to give him, so far he has been the hardest one to gift something too. 'If it was a material thing, he'd just donate it, so that's out. What about...? No. Too much excitement for him. He'd have a heart attack. Oh! I got it! I'll take him to Nuka World!" After liberating the raider base and giving it back to the settlers, Sole enlisted some help and fixed almost everything enough so that it wouldn't collapse immediately. Rollercoasters didn't phase Sole much, but the real entertainment was watching Preston's reactions to every loop or swirl that a coaster made. They don't think they've ever heard a man scream that high in their life. At the end of the day, Preston was smiling and couldn't seem to stop. "This is probably the best day of my life, thank you so much General!" Sole knows that feeling of excitement of being at an amusement park for the first time. "No problem Preston. It was my pleasure."

STRONG: Sole knew strong genuinely liked poetry even though he doesn't know how to read all too well. So when they found a cache of poetry books, Sole was quick to invite Strong so that they could read some to him. Needless to say, he didn't exactly like the idea of sitting still for a long time, but relented when they threw in a glass of brahmin milk as an incentive. To everyone's surprise, Strong actually really enjoyed himself, often acting out some of the more violent - and in his opinion, the best - scenes by himself. Sometimes the others would join in on their poetry reading nights and it would be a great time all around.

VALENTINE: Sole has been wanting to get Nick something since visiting Far Harbour an meeting DiMA. Today, they finally got together all the parts and are ready to present it to him. Nick I taken aback when he sees the storage room filled with memory hard drives just like the on this brother has. "Kid...I don't know what to say." Sole pats their friend on the back. "Don't think anything of it. I know how worried you are about forgetting important things. Like your friends..." They trail off for a bit like they were afraid of the exact same thing, but continue in a much more chipper voice. "This will make sure you don't! You can pick and choose memories you want to back up so it won't be clogged with how to make a brahmin steak or something useless like that. It was tough to get together, but definitely worth it." Nick smiles at Sole. "You're the kindest person I've ever met, you know that kid? And I know Preston!"

X6-88: X6 likes cats. X6 doesn't like dogs. What about reptiles? Hopefully he'll at least take care of it. "Dammit Lone! Always giving me weird things... It's fine. When you think about it, this tamed deathclaw that I'm currently dragging by a leash is just a really big chameleon. . I had one when I was young. They're friendly, and cute, and are funny cause they hold on to little swords and the like when you hand it to them-" The deathclaw snorts and Sole can clearly feel it's breath on the back of their head. "Yep. Nevermind. This is not going to work. I gotta get rid of this thing." When they get to X6's house, a little ways past Sanctuary's borders - he prefers being alone - they're met with the most surprise they have ever seen on their friend's usually stoic face. Sure, all X6 is doing at the moment is raising his eyebrows but it's not usually that high. He just silently waits, obviously waiting for this decidedly crazy person to say something. Sole coughs nervously. "Um... Surprise?" X6 just keeps staring, compelling them to keep speaking. "It-It was a gift, all right? I couldn't say no, I actually think he's kind of cute, but u do not trust myself to not accidentally get killed, but I don't want to just murder it without it giving me a reason ya know? It's perfectly tame though! My friend keeps one as well and they're not dead yet!" X6 releases a sigh. "Sir/ma'am. Why did you think I would want to take care of a giant lizard that may or may not try to kill me in my sleep?" Sole started scratching the back of their head and looking anywhere but at him. More nervous ticks. "Honestly you're the only person I can think of that could handle a deathclaw as a pet. Please~~~ X? It's kinda cute once you get past the razor sharp teeth and claws." They looked up at him with hopeful eyes and X6 sighed once more. "... Fine. Only because it's you. Having a trained deathclaw would be useful to have around too I suppose." Sole's whole demeanor lit up. They leaped foward and hugged their friend. "Thanks X! I knew I could count on you!" The courser rolled his eyes slightly, but despite what he was showing, he was actually rather excited about having a pet deathclaw. It sounded...fun. He pat his friend on the head. "Anytime Sole."

This was actually requested by @mysticfaust ! Their patience knows no bounds considering I think they sent that prompt in a year ago. I hope you see this and enjoy it! It's the first thing I've written in a while so I may be a little rusty, but there are some parts I genuinely like.

[floatingbook]

What do you use as a title? I dislike Miss and Mrs, but apart from the gendie Mx, I'd have to use Ms, so was wondering your opinion.

I’ll give you my opinion, but in all fairness you would be better served by asking a woman who lives in an English-speaking country. That’s not my case currently, nor has it ever been. All I can share is my French experience.

Men have “Monsieur”, shortened as “M.”, as a title here. As with “Mr” in English, it doesn’t yield any other information than the sex of its bearer. The man in question could be married or celibate, young or old, it doesn’t matter. As women, we used to have officially “Mademoiselle” (Mlle) for unmarried girls and women, and “Madame” (Mme) for married women. Officially it is no longer the case. “Mademoiselle” has been retired, because it was sexist. It is normally no longer featured on official forms, all we have are M. and Mme., which just serves to distinguish sex (or I guess gender, if you go to this particular church, but then again, the gender nonsense is less widespread here). People still use “Mademoiselle” informally though; mostly to refer to girls and young women under eighteen. Most of the women I’ve crossed path with don’t hesitate to correct people who use “Mademoiselle” for them, irrespective of their marital status. I always make a point not to add any “Mlle” or “Mme” when I write the address on a letter though, some things are unnecessary.

Overall, I think the state we are in France is fine. We need titles to address people we don’t know, instead of just going “hey you over there”. I wouldn’t really know what to use if I were in your place. There’s little point in wilful obfuscation, or in giving people information they don’t need. “Ms” is the neutral one, right? The one which doesn’t convey your marital status? I would probably go with that one. I’d want other women to know I’m one too, and not in thrall to delusions about who’s doing the oppressing or whether we can just identify out of it.

[child-of-hurin]

To the Marquis de Coulanges Monday, 15 December 1670

I am now going to tell you something so surprising, so astonishing, so marvelous, miraculous, triumphant, so unbelievable, so singular, extraordinary, unexpected; the biggest, the smallest, the most rare, the most commonplace, the most notorious and, until now, most secret, the most brilliant and yet obscure, as most to be envied; in short, something unique in the whole of history with one exception, which however may not be an exception, something which we in Paris cannot believe (how much less in Lyons?). Something which calls for universal commiseration; something which will rejoice the hearts of Mesdames de Rohan and d’Hauterive, finally something which will take place on Sunday, when those who are present will not know if they are standing on their head or their heels, something which will take place on Sunday and perhaps on Monday will not have been accomplished. My lips are sealed; I give you a guess— three guesses. You give it up? Well then, I capitulate!

M. de Lauzun is being married at the Louvre on Sunday— Guess to whom? I give you four, I give you ten, I give you a hundred to one. Mme de Coulanges says: “How mystifying! I know— Mme de la Vallière?” Certainly not, Madame.— “Surely then, Mlle de Retz?” No indeed, how provincial you are!— “How dense I am”, say you— “Mlle Colbert?” Still less.— “I know, Mlle de Crèquy?”— Colder and colder: I shall be obliged to tell you. On Sunday, at the Louvre, with the King’s sanction, he will wed Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle de… Mademoiselle… try again! Mademoiselle, I swear it, on my honour! On my sacred word of honour! Mademoiselle, the great Mademoiselle¹. Mademoiselle, daughter of the late Monsieur. Mademoiselle, grand-daughter of Henry IV, Mademoiselle d’Eu, Mademoiselle de Dombes, Mademoiselle de Montpensier, Mademoiselle d’Orléans, Mademoiselle, first cousin to the King, Mademoiselle destined for a throne. MADEMOISELLE, the only consort worthy of MONSIEUR². Is this not a fine subject for conversation? Should you exclaim, be indignant, maintain that it is all an invention, a tissue of lies, that we are making fun of you, that you do not find the joke a good one; should you, in fact, turn round and rend us, we shall consider you are justified, for in your place we should do likewise.

Adieu: the other letters carried by this ordinary will bear witness to the truth of our story.

¹ Anne-Marie de Bourbon. ² Philippe d’Orléans, brother of Louis XIV.

[chocoluckchipz]

A Soulmate for Christmas - 2

< Previous

The Mayor had always thrown the most lavish parties in the city. The Christmas Eve Gala was the grandest of them all. Anyone who was deemed important or famous was invited. The venue sparkled and shined with extravagant decorations. Shimmering gowns of ladies whose beauty could rival the stars, handsome men in tuxedos, a multitude of servers to attend to the guests' every need; everything screamed wealth, influence, and power. With everything being of the highest quality, it was no surprise all the food was prepared on-site by the best chefs in all of Paris, including the pastries which her parents were hired to make. 

In previous years, Tom was the one who baked, while Sabine or Manon served in the ballroom. Today, however, Papa lay home with a broken leg, Manon was out of the city, and anyone else who could’ve stepped in was unavailable at such late notice. So, it was Sabine who was left to stir up a storm in the hotel's kitchen, while Marinette took the trays of sweets into the ballroom for attendees to enjoy.

The first hour went by splendidly. Neither Adrien nor his fiancée nor Chloe Bourgeois showed up. Marinette was starting to relax as she danced around the room with a tray in hand, offering attendees her Maman’s treats. It all changed when Adrien walked in the room with Kagami Tsurugi on his arm, her mother and Chloe Bourgeois following right after.

Perfect. Her torture had begun.

Marinette moved farther into the room, as far from the trio as possible. Unfortunately, being a waitress, she couldn’t remain in one spot for long. Which meant she had to constantly scan the room to be aware of Adrien's location at any given moment. His and Chloe's. Because even though she didn’t want to risk getting too close to Adrien, she’d take that over running into her high school arch-enemy. Unlike Chloe, at least, he wouldn’t recognize her.

"Excuse me? Mademoiselle?"

She peeled her eyes away from Chloe conversing with Adrien’s fiancée to look at the person calling her and froze. 

Those eyes.

Her heart took off in a panicked sprint. She knew those eyes. How did she not realize he was her soulmate before? She stared at his posters for hours at a time, days in a row. His eyes were always gorgeous but… the eyes that watched her now were the ones that haunted her dreams all these years. And that barely-there smile he was giving her was so different from his model one. Mischievous and kind, and somehow familiar. 

Butterflies raged in her belly, Marinette turned away and focused on her work. She was there to help Maman, not swoon over her unfaithful soulmate.

"I apologize, but have we met before?" He stepped in front of her, blocking her attempted escape. "I feel like I know you."

This couldn’t be happening. There was no way he recognized her! "I’m afraid, you’re mistaken, Monsieur. I don’t think we’ve met."

"Are you sure?" His hand slowly reached out for hers, the one his mark was on. "May I?"

With a swift move, Marinette slipped a serving tray between them, offering him what was left of an assortment of macarons, at the same time protecting her hand from his touch. "Of course. Which flavour would you like?"

He hesitated for a moment, then smiled. "Which one would you recommend?"

"Coconut. They’re a huge hit tonight. The white ones."

"Thank you." He took the treat and bit into it. "Oh! They are delicious."

"I’m glad you like it. Now, if you excuse me. I must get back work." Marinette gave him the most professional smile she could muster at the moment as she turned around to walk away.

He followed. Like an annoying stray. No wonder his soulmate mark was a black cat. "Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Adrien. May I ask for your name?"

"It’s confidential."

A fleeting look of bewilderment on his face, replaced by an amused sparkle in his eyes, he smirked right after. "Accept my apologies, Mlle ‘Confidential’, but may I ask if you ever visited Milan?"

He wasn’t beating around the bush. This was bad. "Curiosity killed the cat, and you’re one curious kitty, aren’t you, Adrien?"

His eyes widened just a speck, lips stretching in one of the widest grins she had ever seen in her life. "It is you, isn’t it?"

With a look of absolute innocence on her face, she looked away. "I’m sorry? I’m not following."

"Ladybug. I don’t remember your real name but your soulmate mark is a ladybug. I’ve been calling you that. I knew I would recognize you if I ever saw you. Your eyes haven’t changed. You still have those adorable freckles and that sweet smile."

Good thing Marinette and her father had taken up playing poker lately. Otherwise, she wasn't sure she'd be able to look at him with an air of indifference right then. "As I said before, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. My name isn’t Ladybug, and I don’t think we’ve ever met before. Now, if you excuse me, I have work to do." 

She walked past him. He followed.

"You called me Kitty after you saw my soulmate mark. A black cat. Right there." He pointed to her right hand. "I can prove it if you’ll allow me to touch it."

She couldn’t let this happen. He didn’t deserve to confirm his suspicions. This had already gone a lot further than Marinette ever intended for it to go. She didn’t have a choice but to cut this short and run. "I’m sorry, I have no idea who you’ve mistaken me for, but I’m not your soulmate. After all, aren’t you engaged? 

"Please, let me explain—"

"I’m sure Mlle Tsurugi won’t approve of you talking to other women, M Agreste. Especially me," she snapped. She forced herself to take a breath and a step back. "Congratulations on your impending engagement. Have a good life." 

Without giving him a chance to respond, Marinette strode away toward the kitchen. If anyone asked, it was only because her tray was almost empty, not because the hope in her heart was, too.

"Wait!" He rushed after her. "I can explain."

She didn’t want him to. She hurried away, but Adrien kept pace. Just as she was about to exit the ballroom, he caught up and grabbed her right hand. The black cat soulmate mark on the top of it burst with all the colours of a rainbow, glowing the most beautiful way Marinette had ever seen a soulmate mark to glow. 

She snatched her hand back before anyone else could notice, hissing at him. "What are you doing?"

"Begging you to let me explain."

"Your engagement is explanation enough," Marinette snapped, throwing open the door to the servers’ area and escaping him once more.

Adrien called after her, but she knew these hallways well enough to lose him. Turning a corner, she slipped into an old storage room and ducked under a desk, hoping he’d just pass by without a second thought. 

She was wrong.

"Ladybug?"

She froze in her hiding spot, careful not to make a sound. 

"Ladybug, please. I can explain. I promise I’m not—" 

"Adrien, what’s going on?" A female voice sounded closer to the door. 

"It’s her," he answered breathlessly. "I found her."

"‘Her’ as in?"

"Ladybug! I found my Ladybug! And the first thing she does is yell at me because she thinks I’m engaged to you."

"Please, don’t tell me it’s that waitress that you kept hovering over?" Another female griped. An unfortunately familiar female. 

"Oh, shut up, Chloe!" Adrien snarled. "I’m not in the mood for—"

"Calm down, both of you. No need to start a fight," the woman who Marinette guessed was Kagami Tsurugi cut in. 

"Like I’m going to fight him over Dupain-Cheng. He can have her, for all I care."

"You know her?" Adrien asked, surprise clear in his voice. "Chloe, please, tell me you know who she is?"

"Of course, I do. We suffered each other’s presence all through lycée."

"Name, Chloe! Tell me her name! Her number? Address? Anything!"

The scowl in Chloe’s voice was palpable. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She lived in the bakery across the street from my old school—" 

"Are you kidding me?! She’s been living less than a block away from me all these years?!"

"Just your luck." Kagami chuckled. "All the time and money you wasted on your trips to Milan. I almost feel sorry for you, Adrien." 

"You’re so kind, Kagami. Remind me, why are we still friends? "

"Because you needed a fake girlfriend."

"I think it was the other way around."

"Let’s be honest: we both benefited. Some more so than others, but who cares about the details, right?"

Adrien groaned. "I don’t have time for this. Chloe, where can I find her?"

"You remember that online fashion boutique I showed you? The one you ordered that blue scarf and a few of their Chat Noir pieces from?"

"MDC? Wait—was that her?"

"Yes. MDC is short for Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Adrien pulled out his cellphone. "Good idea. The website should have her contact information."

"Not her personal contacts. Only a business email."

"Damn it, Chloe. I don’t have time for this. Where can I find her now?"

"Most likely in the kitchen," Chloe huffed. "Her parents’ bakery was hired to cater for the party. Tom and Sabine’s."

"Thanks." 

By the time the door shut, Marinette could hardly breathe, a single sentence played in her mind over and over and over again, 

 "Because you needed a fake girlfriend."

 What did she mean by—?

Bang!

Marinette’s heart stopped at the sudden slap of a hand on the desk she was hiding under. 

"Dupain-Cheng." Chloe leered down at her with a smile Marinette knew always meant trouble. "We need to talk."

Next >

Read it on A03 FF.net WattPad

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[pompadourpink]

Acronyms and abbreviations

ADHD: TDA(H) - trouble du déficit de l'attention avec ou sans hyperactivité, m

AIDS: SIDA - syndrome d'immunodéficience acquise, m

B.A/Sc.: Licence, f

CEO: PDG - président directeur général

DNA: ADN - acide désoxyribonucléique, m

EU: UE - Union Européenne, f

FAQ: FAQ - foire aux questions, f

GDP: PIB - produit intérieur brut, m

GMO: OGM - organisme génétiquement modifié, m

HIV: VIH - virus de l'immunodéficience humaine, m

HQ: QG - quartier général, m

HR: RH - ressources humaines, f

IMF: FMI - fond monétaire international, m

Induced abortion: IVG - interruption volontaire de grossesse, f

IQ: QI - quotient intellectuel, m

IVF: FIV - fécondation in vitro, f

Miss: Mlle(s) - mademoiselle/mesdemoiselles

Mr.: M. - monsieur / MM. - messieurs (pl)

Mrs.: Mme(s) - madame/mesdames

NATO: OTAN - Organisation du traité de l'Atlantique nord, f

NGO: ONG - organisation non gouvernementale

OCD: TOC - trouble obsessionnel compulsif, m

PHD: doctorat, m

STI: IST - infection sexuellement transmissible, f

UFO: OVNI - objet volant non-identifié, m

UN: ONU - Organisation des Nations Unies

VAT: TVA - taxe sur la valeur ajoutée, f

WHO: OMS - Organisation mondiale de la santé

*

Also, units of length and mass:

[vangoghs-other-ear]

Madame

use it for- women

abbreviate it to- Mme

plural- mesdames

english equivalent- Ms, Mrs, Ma’am

etymology- ma dame (my lady)

Mademoiselle

Use it for- young women (can be insulting/condescending)

abbreviate it to- Mlle

plural- mesdemoiselles

english equivalent- miss, young lady

etymology- ma demoiselle (my young lady)

Monsieur 

use it for- men

abbreviate it to- M.

plural- messieurs

english equivalent- Mister

etymology- Mon Seigneur (my lord)

[hedgerlogs]

i dont generally condone french but i gotta say their like. honorifics look much nicer than english ones. like monsieur (m.), mademoiselle (mlle.), and madame (mme.) just look cleaner to me. unfortunately french would literally collapse under its own weight if it tried to incorporate non gendered titles but c'est la vie

[coffeecomicsgalore]

A Night To Remember

Adrien quits.

Ao3

Chapter 6 – Adrien’s Final Blow

“Thank you for meeting me, Monsieur Agreste.” Lila was sitting on the bench with her back towards him.

Gabriel stayed firm in his car; the window partially opened, ready to hear what this girl needed to say.

“Mlle. Rossi.” he said flatly. “You stated that you have some information on my son?” His tone was as cold as ice.

“Yes, sir. I was told that Adrien and Kagami have not been together for some time. It seems like your son has been lying to you for a better part of a year."

“Is that true?” He was intrigued, but kept his composure. “And where did you hear of this information Mlle. Rossi?”

“I overheard that Nino-friend-of-his talking to his girlfriend about it.” Her voice was filled with venom. “It seems like it was only kept between a few close friends. Those friends are a terrible influence on him, M. Agreste.”

“And how do you expect me to change that? I am sure you have heard that he has threatened to quit the brand if something were to happen between him and his so-called friends.”

“Then maybe his ‘friends’ will need to turn their backs on him.”

“See to it that it works. And do not disappoint me, mademoiselle.”

----- xoxox -----

Adrien returned home with anxiety over the unpleasant news. He was hoping that word did not spread as quickly as he thought and he could head off to his room without a scolding from his father.  He walked into the atrium and made his way up the steps before seeing a figure waiting for him at the top.

“Adrien.” his father said coldly.

“Father.” Adrien returned the cold gesture.

“What is the meaning of your so-called ‘relationship’ with Mlle. Tsurugi? Have you been lying to me all this time?”

“No, Father, I have not been lying to you.”

“But you have not been telling me the truth, have you?” The anger could be heard in his voice.

Adrien did not want to have this conversation today. He was exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions he was feeling since Kagami called him with the news. “Kagami and I were in a relationship. We both chose to end our dating relationship. We still have a friendship-relationship. Friends can hold hands especially during special events like the ones we attended. And yes, I do love her, but I love her as a friend.” he said in a way to make his voice bold, strong, and heard. “We never confirmed our relationship with the press. And we never told them we were in love. They assumed all of that themselves. So, as I have said, I was not deceiving you in any way, Father.”

“Your disobedience perturbs me, Adrien. First, the wanted freedom. Then reducing your activities and modeling. Getting a job - at a bakery no less - when you could continue to model. Wanting to attend a university with your own elected degree instead of the business degree I suggested you attain. Now a ‘fake’ relationship instead of an actual relationship with Mlle. Tsurugi? What’s next, you are going to tell me that you are dating that bakery girl - Mlle. Dupain-Cheng is it? Well, I forbid whatever it is you choose to do next. You will stop your disobedience this instance, and you will go back to your schedule as previously done. Nathalie will take care of everything for you from now one and you will do as you’re told. Now, go to your room.”

Adrien was seething. He was an adult. He finally had his taste of freedom. Finally was able to make decisions for himself. And that man that he calls Father was taking it all away. For what? Over the misconstrued deceitfulness of a ‘fake relationship’ that his father assumed continued? And the implied controversy of wanting to date sweet Marinette? No. It was all because it was never part of his plan. He didn’t care about Adrien and his happiness. All he cared about was his brand.  

Adrien was done. “No.” He said sternly.

“You will not disobey me again, Adrien. Go to your room.” Gorilla walked up behind Adrien while Nathalie walked alongside Gabriel.

“I. Said. No.” Adrien said through gritted teeth. He walked up to his father and stood in front of him. His hand was clenched tight into a fist, ready to punch him square in the face. But he wouldn’t lay a hand to him. He had more dignity than that.  

“I quit! I quit modeling. I quit the photo shoots. I quit the Chinese, fencing, and piano lessons. I quit all the appearances that I am forced to attend.” The words spilling out his mouth with such force, he was shaking. He took a step forward until his face was so close to his father’s face, they could feel the puffs of breaths coming from their mouths. “And I quit being your son.”

Adrien looked at his father before taking one step to the side and set off to his room. Gabriel stood there in shock over the brash words. His mouth was slightly agape. Nathalie walked forward, unsure of what to say or do. Gorilla had a slight smirk to his face as he turned and walked away.

As soon as Adrien marched into his room and slammed the door shut, Plagg zoomed out of his chosen’s shirt and stared in shock.  “Wow kid. I never thought you had it in you to talk back to him like that.”

“Honestly, neither did I.” Adrien was still shaking; his body was full of adrenaline over the encounter. No amount of scary akumas could ever match the fear that overtook his body. The moment Marinette’s name left his father’s mouth, he knew he couldn’t hold back. No one talks about his princess that way.

Adrien didn’t say much as he gathered a few sets of clothes, toiletries, and other important documents. Plagg took the opportunity to gather all his cheese from the vault and set it in the almost full bag.  

When he was finished, he picked up his bag and head out his bedroom door. In the atrium, his father stood with his arms crossed behind his back. Nathalie stood near the door with Gorilla standing in front of the exit.

Adrien made up his mind. No one will stand in the way of it. He looked straight into his father’s cold eyes. “Father.” Gabriel chose not to acknowledge him. “Nathalie.” She nodded to his greeting with a stern look on her face. Gorilla stepped aside to allow him to leave.

As soon as he walked past the gates, he felt the anger release. He wanted to fall to his knees right there. But he knew he couldn’t let his body relax until he reached his destination. Where? He didn’t know. He just walked straight towards the subway station and decided to take a train as far as he could go.  

As he was boarding, he received a message from the girl that occupied his mind.  

Marinette: Hey. I’m just checking up on you. Did your dad talk to you?”

Adrien: Yeah, about that....  

Adrien: Do you think I can come by? I kind of quit being his son and now I’m essentially homeless. :/

Marinette: …

Marinette: You quit? Being his son? Can you do that?

Marinette: And yes. You know you’re always welcomed here.

Marinette: I’ll go and let my parents know and set up the guest room.  

Adrien: I guess you can, because I just did.

Adrien: Marinette. You are seriously the best. Thank you.

Marinette: :) Always.

[spork-guitar]

Lucky Lady Chapter 7 (Bodyguard!Mari)

Based off a prompt by @gale-of-the-nomads

@sapphicsovereign @gingerdaile

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Welcome back! It hasn’t been a month, so that’s new. It’s just the same old story, but slightly more French (translations at the end). 

Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6.

I might throw in a French phrase here and there. They’re all simple because I’m still learning myself, so feel free to correct me if you know more than I do (you probably do).

   “Bonjour, Ladybug!”  Adrien greeted Ladybug as she walked into the room, her eyes baggy from lack of sleep and poorly concealed with makeup.

   She gave him a tired smile. “Bon matin, M. Agreste. I trust you had a restful night?”

   “Not as restful as I would have liked, but I’d sleep until the afternoon if my schedule allowed it.”

   “I understand. Has Mlle Rossi arrived yet?”

   He looked over his shoulder towards the door. “She should have been down by now. Oh, quand on parle du loup.” Lila strutted in as if she heard their conversation. “Salut, Lila.”

   She greeted him with an emphatic kiss on the cheek, leaving behind a sticky print of lip gloss, which he unsuccessfully attempted to wipe off. “Good morning, chouchou!” She glared at Ladybug, giving her a brief once-over before grabbing Adrien’s orange juice and helping herself.

   “Bonjour, Mlle Rossi. Did you sleep well?”

   The girl faltered for a second before painting on a sweet smile. “I slept very well. Thank you so much for asking!”

   Adrien rolled his eyes internally. She was missing half the night, and back by the time he woke up. Questioning her about it wouldn’t do any good. A good night’s sleep was just another in a long list of carefully camouflaged white lies.

   “May I bring out your breakfast?”

   “That’s so sweet of you, but I really haven’t got the time. We have to leave in a little while, after all.” She gave the two of them a what-can-you-do shrug and flounced off the way she came, presumably to get ready for the photo shoot.

   Lila’s departure left behind an awkward silence, and Adrien could tell Ladybug felt a little weird about standing there watching him eat. He would, but he was so used to it that any awkwardness came from it being a new person.

   “Is there anything I can do for you, M. Agreste?”

   He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “You can call me Adrien, if that makes you more comfortable. M. Agreste makes me think of my father, and that isn’t what I want on my mind when I’m trying to eat.”

   She flushed, embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-”

   “No, don’t worry about it! I was joking. But seriously, Adrien is fine. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not super professional.”

   “Okay. Merci. I have to get today’s schedule from Nathalie. I’ll be back in a minute… Adrien.” She grinned, and he pretended her saying his name wasn’t affecting him at all. “I’ll have to get used to that.”

   He watched until she was out of eyeshot. “Me, too.”

…

Ladybug quickly parked the car, and Adrien knew why she wasn’t wasting any time. His father had reprimanded and fired many workers, especially ones who were new on the job. Gabriel Agreste didn’t give second chances. As a child, Emilie always told him Gabriel preferred ‘perfection over affection.’

He had only known Ladybug for a couple days, but he didn’t want her leaving any time soon, so he stepped out of the car as soon as she opened the back door, reflexively offering Lila a hand to help her out as well.

“According to the day’s schedule, the two of you are having separate photo shoots today in order to save time.”

Lila stopped in her tracks. ”What?”

“The new collection has fallen behind schedule because of an error in design. Pair modeling sessions have been double booked for next week, meaning you will have six shoots instead of the usual three.”

“That can’t be right. Gabriel would never do that. Who gave you that information?”

“M. Agreste himself, through Mlle Sancoeur. I have an email forwarded to me if you would like to see it.” Adrien bit back a laugh at the unimpressed expression on Ladybug’s face.

Lila sneered briefly, then covered it up with a pout. “No, never mind.”

“Very well. Mlle Rossi, you will visit Baptiste for your makeup and wardrobe, and Juliette for photography. Madeleine will attend to you, M. Agreste, and you know Vincent already.”

“Oui, merci.”

Ladybug pointed out a trailer on the other side of the park. “Your photo shoot is over there, Mlle Rossi. I will bring you over there and introduce you to Juliette. M. Agreste, you’ll be right here by the fountain. I believe they are ready for you.”

Adrien smiled as Ladybug led Lila away. If there was one thing he missed about being single - at least, that he would admit - it was doing photo shoots by himself. Lila had a tendency to cling to him the entire time, and she wasn’t the best at dissecting Vincent’s metaphors. Of course, he had done shoots with many a model, but he found it easiest when he did them alone.

“Are you ready, M. Agreste?”

He forced himself back into reality and flashed the young cosmetologist a model smile. Adrien was as nice as possible to the staff his father employed, mostly because he knew they wouldn’t get the same treatment from the elder Agreste. He memorized her basic features - average height, brown hair, brown eyes, glasses, visibly nervous - and reminded himself of her name.

“Of course, Madeleine. Merci.” She grinned at him and adjusted her glasses with a shaky hand.

He stole one more glance in the direction of his fiancée and bodyguard to find the latter heading back to him. She looked up, seeming shocked to find that he was already looking back, and stopped in her tracks. Her mouth dropped open slightly, and Adrien swallowed, throat feeling awfully dry as his pulse danced to a new rhythm. It couldn’t have been more than a second or two of eye contact, but it was enough. He would blame his tinted cheeks on the weather.

Translations:

Bonjour = hello, good day

Bon matin = good morning

Quand on parle du loup = when one speaks of the wolf (speak of the devil)

Chouchou = childish term of endearment

M. (monsieur) = Mr. (mister)

Mlle (mademoiselle) = Ms. (miss)

Merci = thank you

Oui = yes

[flashflashitsash]

Phantom of the Opera 1

Hello!! This is going to be based on this post I made a little bit ago. I was watching the movie and kinda just thought of it. So why not make it an AU? Enjoy!

Also- (Mostly when it comes to costumes.) I will be referencing the live action play, as it’s my favorite version, but I also love the movie! And will reference aspects of it too.

(PART 2-> here)

—

Present time…..

Adrien Agreste perks up at his old age of 70, as the auctioneer describes the musical box his late wife had described in such detail to him.

“ This item, discovered in the vaults of the theatre, still in working order.”

He taps his nurses hand so she could place a bet.

The bidding continues, but Adrien ends up buying the musical box, taking in the details of it as it is placed in his lap. A Papier-mache musical box, in the shape of a barrel-organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes playing the cymbals.

He whispers/sings quietly, half to himself, half to the

box, “ A collector's piece indeed, every detail exactly as she said…. She often spoke of you, my friend, your velvet lining, and your figurine of lead. Will you still play, when all the rest of us are dead?“

The auctioneer clears their throat, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Lot..666, a chandelier in pieces. Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera” they paused, pondering on how to continue, “ A mystery never fully explained. We are told ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which was in the famous disaster. Our workshops have restored it and fitted up parts of it with wiring for the new electric light, so that we may get a hint of what it may look like when re-assembled. Perhaps we may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination…..gentlemen?” The auctioneer smirked flipping the switch.

—

Past time.....

Roughly 50+ years ago.

Juleka sighed as Kim messed up his note again, smashing her fingers down onto the piano keys

“Signor ... its ’Rome’ not ’Roma’” she says, frustration in her voice.

Kim rolled his eyes turning his attention to the dark haired girl, wearing a purple dress, hair in an updo but half covering her face in a swoop. “Right right, sorry Madame Couffaine”

Juleka took a deep breath, “Okay..again! Sad to return—“ she groaned silently, getting cut off by the owner of the Opera House, M. Lefevre.

“This way gentlemen! Ahh yes hello ladies and gentlemen. I’m sure you all have met M. Gabriel and M. Andre! “ he beamed gesturing over to the two men.

“I’m sorry Monsieur, But if this could wait until after practice?” Madame Bustier called out coming from behind the ballet dancers. Wearing her usual black gown, hair up and out of her face, staff in hand.

“Oh sorry of course Madame Bustier “ M. Lefevre moves aside letting the rehearsal continue.

The ballet dancers came to center stage,dress in tight dark brown corsets, with light brown fishnet designs dropping off into their legs, hair down and curled to the max. In the mix of all the girls, a brownish/red haired girl stood out from the others.

“Who is that young women?” M. Gabriel asked Lefevre

“Ahh that is Alya Bustier, Madame Bustiers daughter, one of our best and most promising dancers Monsieur!” Lefevre smiled watching the girls but frowned as a raven haired one fell out of step.

Madame Bustier firmly tapped her staff on the stage “Dupain-Cheng! Concentrate! “ Madam Bustier said, eyes the dark haired girl.

“Dupain-Cheng? Curious name..” M. Andre trailed off

“Any relation to the late, famous violinists duo Tom and Sabine Dupain-Cheng?” M. Gabriel asked curiously

Lefevre sighed “Yes, their shy daughter. Sadly, she always has her head in the clouds and is very clumsy.“

They singers and dancers continue their practice for Hannibal, ending with applause form M. Gabriel, Andre And Lefevre.

“Fantastic! “ M. Andre smiles greeting Kim

“The pleasure is mine signor!” Kim smiles boasting a bit about himself. But as always, Chloe, comes forward making her presence known to those in the room, wearing her royal red gown, detailed in gold.

“Ahh and the magnificent Chloe!” M.Gabriel goes over, kissing the top of her hand. She smiles wide moving her hair from her shoulder, making sure everyone in the rehearsal knew of her popular status.

“Signora! If I remember correctly there is a fabulous solo in act three, if you would, give us a private performance? As long as Madame Couffaine agrees?” M. Andre smiled looking up at Chloe with smiling eyes.

“My manager commands, Maestra? “ Chloe looks over at Juleka demandingly.

“Of course, Will two bars be fine?” She questions making her way back behind the piano.

“That will be sufficient.” Chloé smirked making her way to center stage, taking the scarf from her stage maid, Sabrina. “Maestra!”

Juleka began on the piano playing the introduction of the solo song from act three. The sweet slow sounds filling the room.

Chloe began to sing, “Think of me..think of me fondly,

when we've said goodbye.

Remember me once in a while -

please promise me you'll try.

When you find...that, once again, you long

to take your heart-“ she yelled jumping back as she was cut off by a backdrop falling down onto the stage floor

“It’s him!! The Phantom of the Opera!!” Alya shouts amongst the other dancers. “He’s with us! The ghost!!”

“Chloe, Chloe! Are you alright?! “ Kim questions rushing over to her dramatically.

“Get down here now, Ivan!” Lefevre screams up to walkway above them

“Is no one else worried about our Prima Donna?!” Kim asks frustrated at the lack of attention to the pair. He begins to fan Chloe as she dramatically pretends as if she’s going to faint. Calling for her stage maid Sabrina.

Ivan emerges from the back holding a cut rope, almost looking like a noose. He frowns as he crosses the stage.

“Ivan! What was going on up there?!” Lefevre yells

“Please Monsieur, Do not look at me. As God as my witness, I was not at my post. “ he paused moving closer to the former owner. “There’s no one up there, and if there is...it must have been a ghost!”

Alya makes her way to her mother “I told you! He’s there! The phantom of the opera!! “

“ Mademoiselle please!” Lefevre calls out.

“Madame Chloe, these things do happen..” he trailed off hoping to calm the drama queen.

She hums, scrunching up her nose, shaking her head vigorously, “ Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous! Yes! These things do happen. And until you stop these things from happening,” she gestured to herself ”this thing doesn't happen!” she screams making her way off the stage calling out orders. Sabrina following close by.

“Amateurs!” Kim calls out following Chloe out.

“Well gentlemen.. I’ll leave you to it then! If you need me, I’ll be in Frankfurt! “ Lefevre smiles and leaves the stage with quickness. Enjoying the fact this is no longer his mess to take care of.

“Mlle Chloe will be back!” M. Andre states shakily.

“You really think so? Well, I have a message for you Monsieur, It’s from the Opera Ghost. “ Madame Bustier says handing over the letter to the new stage managers. The dancers whispering and twirling around in fear and mischief. Along with the crew behind the curtains, coming forward to hear what the letter says.

“My god! You’re all mad!” M. Gabriel grumbles loudly, taking the note from Andres hands.

Madame Bustier smirks, “He merely welcomes you to his opera house, and commands you to continue to leave Box Five empty for his use…” She points up to the balcony box with her staff. “...and reminds you that his salary is due.” She points to the letter showing them where she is speaking of.

Confused, M. Andre asks “His salary??” He glanced over to the letter in Gabriel’s hands.

“Monsieur Lefevre paid him twenty thousand francs a month. Perhaps you can afford more, with the Vicomte de Chagny as your patron.” She chimed, taking a glance over at the raven haired girl clinging to Alya nervously.

“I wanted to announce that myself, but yes he will be here, in our box. “ M. Gabriel states, rather annoyed his big announcement was spoiled.

“Who is Chloe’s understudy?” M. Andre asks the maestra, hoping to calm the waters.

Juleka rolls her eyes, and said “There is no understudy! The work is new!” She scoffs at their ignorance.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng could sing it sir!” Alya calls out pulling the shy girl with her.

“The chorus girl?” They men say simultaneously, eyeing both of the young women.

“She’s been taking lessons from a great teacher Monsieur,” Alya beamed at Andre, hope in her eyes for her friend to be in the spotlight she deserves.

“From whom Mlle. Dupain-Cheng?” M. Gabriel asks almost coldly.

Marinette pulls on a strand of hair, and nervously says “I-I do not know, s-sir “

Gabriel turns to Andre flustered “Can you believe it!?! A full house and we have to cancel-“

Madame Bustier interjected, “Let her sing for you M. She has been well taught. “

Juleka takes her spot behind the piano smiling at Marinette. “From the beginning of the aria then?” Marinette gives her a small nod. Then glanced over to her best friend Alya, who gives her a nod and smile of support.

She takes a shaky deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves. She could feel her heart race, thumping against her chest so hard and loud. She began to sing—

“Think of me..”

—

Please let me know what you think! Also what could be better? I'm not sure how many parts there will be but I’ll figure it out soon, until the next part!

Tags

@findinglingling

@unabashedbookworm

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

[soignante]

Dialogue prompt: “I don’t know what you were expecting?”. (E/C, snippet, unless you’re inspired to write something longer)

 As with so many who ventured to the Pole in their quest for glory, Raoul never returned.  For the first year, she grieved him, living on the money he had left to sustain her until his ‘inevitable’ return.   In the second year, she found that her career had burned away with the auditorium of the theater.  Though new construction rose from its foundations,  no one had undertaken to restore her.  Heavy with loneliness and purposeless, Christine cast about for a means of supporting herself.  She could not bear Paris, and the cost of living was crushing. After selling all she could of her remaining belongings, she presented herself at the Grande Theatre de Bordeaux, where she was received enthusiastically as a music teacher.  Too relieved to question her good fortune, she worked diligently at her job, lifting young voices to meet their potential.  But her name was known, and the expected questions came, tentatively at first.  The choristers, the stage actors, the director all found a moment to sidle up to her and politely inquire:“Christine, the cast is celebrating their success.  Won’t you come sing with them?”“Mlle Daae, it would be lovely if you would help with the Ladies’ Aid benefit? Sing something, maybe?”                                                                                  “But Mademoiselle, why do you never audition?  Your voice is still quite lovely!” Ever demure and polite, Christine would only smile and kindly dismiss the invitations.  “I am quite happy to teach, thank you.  I shall certainly come and listen, though!”Like the hydra, every declined invitation seemed to sprout two new petitions for her voice, her performance.  They grew in number and intensity until the ex-diva found herself hiding in closets to avoid confrontations in the hallway.  The headaches began soon after, and she sometimes missed lessons due to a need to lie abed with a cold cloth on her forehead. It was inevitable, then, that her absences would be noticed.  One evening, even as she changed into her dressing gown, a knock came at the door.  There stood the theater’s errand boy, bouncing on his toes, holding a summons signed by the management.  Sighing her resignation to the empty hallway, she trudged miserably to the finely appointed offices.  The errand boy opened the door for her and scurried off on his next mission, unconcerned about the singing mistress’s fate.M. Soucy sat in his red velvet upholstered chair, his hands folded solemnly on the table before him. 

“Ah, mademoiselle.  I see you received our summons.”  He cleared his throat and stood, leaning forward imposingly on his knuckles.  “And you do know why we have called you here?”Christine swallowed, wet her lips, and lifted her chin.  “I suppose, monsieur, that I have been remiss in tending to the needs of our students?”“Indeed.  The staff inform us that your health has been quite delicate of late.”“But monsieur, it is only that they press me to sing and to audition and I…” she crossed the room to stand before him, wringing her hands.  “…I have left that life far behind me.”“It is as he feared, then.”  He shook his head. “We had hoped the entreaties of your peers and students would move you to audition.  Instead, we have only driven you into hiding.” “You say ‘him’ and ‘we,’ monsieur.”  Her voice quavered and she felt the beginnings of another headache tensing her scalp and pricking at her temples.  “I see only you.”In response, M. Soucy cleared his throat and turned to stare expectantly at the wall.  Momentarily, a door, cleverly camouflaged by the office’s extravagant wallpaper, swung open.   The smell hit her before he stepped in the room: that insistent scent of dankness and decay that never left him, no matter his efforts at colognes and sachets. Enervated, she sank weakly into a chair.  

“Angel…” it was no more than a breath. He stepped into view, then, the long and tall and black of him.  Christine could hear glass breaking, shots firing, the roar of a vicious crowd…the sounds of that horrific night pounded in her memory.Erik loomed darkly before her, his head tilted curiously to one side, the shrewd sparkle of his peculiar eyes perfectly familiar. “Of course, my dear.”  He advanced upon her and extended a white gloved, spidery hand.  “I don’t know what else you were expecting?”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

#15yrsago Brit Airways' honorifics kick United's ass

Thomas sez, "Thought United Airlines covered every possible title? Not a chance. British Airways covers absolutely everything including -- I kid you not -- 'His Holiness' and 'Her Majesty'. Because I'm sure the Pope needs air miles."

Mr Mrs Ms Miss Dr Herr Monsieur Hr Frau A V M Admiraal Admiral Air Cdre Air Commodore Air Marshal Air Vice Marshal Alderman Alhaji Ambassador Baron Barones Brig Brig Gen Brig General Brigadier Brigadier General Brother Canon Capt Captain Cardinal Cdr Chief Cik Cmdr Col Col Dr Colonel Commandant Commander Commissioner Commodore Comte Comtessa Congressman Conseiller Consul Conte Contessa Corporal Councillor Count Countess Crown Prince Crown Princess Dame Datin Dato Datuk Datuk Seri Deacon Deaconess Dean Dhr Dipl Ing Doctor Dott Dott sa Dr Dr Ing Dra Drs Embajador Embajadora En Encik Eng Eur Ing Exma Sra Exmo Sr F O Father First Lieutient First Officer Flt Lieut Flying Officer Fr Frau Fraulein Fru Gen Generaal General Governor Graaf Gravin Group Captain Grp Capt H E Dr H H H M H R H Hajah Haji Hajim Her Highness Her Majesty Herr High Chief His Highness His Holiness His Majesty Hon Hr Hra Ing Ir Jonkheer Judge Justice Khun Ying Kolonel Lady Lcda Lic Lieut Lieut Cdr Lieut Col Lieut Gen Lord M M L M R Madame Mademoiselle Maj Gen Major Master Mevrouw Miss Mlle Mme Monsieur Monsignor Mr Mrs Ms Mstr Nti Pastor President Prince Princess Princesse Prinses Prof Prof Dr Prof Sir Professor Puan Puan Sri Rabbi Rear Admiral Rev Rev Canon Rev Dr Rev Mother Reverend Rva Senator Sergeant Sheikh Sheikha Sig Sig na Sig ra Sir Sister Sqn Ldr Sr Sr D Sra Srta Sultan Tan Sri Tan Sri Dato Tengku Teuku Than Puying The Hon Dr The Hon Justice The Hon Miss The Hon Mr The Hon Mrs The Hon Ms The Hon Sir The Very Rev Toh Puan Tun Vice Admiral Viscount Viscountess Wg Cdr

Link

(

Thanks, Thomas!

) Update:

Johannes

points out a glaring omission here: in German, someone with multiple PhDs goes by Doktor Doktor Doktor (und zo weiter), abbreviated DDDDr -- how does BA expect to attract hyper-educated Germanic people without this honorific in its otherwise exhaustive list?

https://boingboing.net/2004/04/28/brit-airways-honorif.html