yasssss girl slay wait no stop dont actually girl what are u doing what are u doing stop stop oh my god no no heâs dead no no oh my god girl what have u done
Read TOS carefully and ask more questions in DMS if you're interested in purchasing!! The commission deadline is a week from now, or perhaps even earlier if you're lucky. If the recipients artwork is delayed I'll notify you I promise!!
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little write up on some adrian disability thoughts as ive been watching the show!
my headcannon is that all sentimonsters are in some way disabled (kagami is deaf and uses a talker, felix has eds, etc) and part of the conflict with their guardians that specifically kagami and adrien have are that kagami and adrien are beautiful, smart, funny, kind, compassionate, creative, willing to learn and grow, the epitome of children anyone would want, but they're also disabled in a way that needs help, constant help, and tomoe and gabriel didnt want to put effort into this fantasy theyd constructed or give these wonderful kids the help theyd need to be what they wanted them to be, so their kids are haunted by the ghosts of what perfect meant to their parents.
the fandom has taken a massive dip in interaction in just the past year alone. new fics no matter the writer used to get 100 kudos within the day; now it's a struggle to get 100 kudos within a month. this is most likely due to a lot of fans dropping the show. however, it also says something about the state of fandoms as a whole. a lot of fandoms, not just ml exclusively, are experiencing severe drops in interaction, because people are just consuming creations instead of interacting with them, and treating creators like content farms
if you enjoy reading fanfics in the ml fandom (or any fandom really) show the writers some appreciation by leaving a kudos or a comment. it goes a long way in encouraging that writer to keep creating and shows them that their effort was worth it!
fandoms die without interaction. help keep the ml fandom alive by leaving comments, kudos, and reblogging other people's work!
Myth, Muse, and Mourning in the Figure of Ămilie Agreste: A Study of Her Portrayals in My Work
This contains spoilers for three of my stories: House of Agreste, Flightless Birds, and Smalltown Boy.
Before Ămilie Agreste was a mother, a muse, or a dead woman, she was a myth. Or rather, she became one. In canon, she exists as a doll in a pod, a photograph on the wall, little video diaries saved into Nathalieâs phone, a rose-tinted memory etched onto Adrienâs longing, and stories told through notorious unreliable narrator Gabriel Agreste. Sheâs a beautiful absence, made notable by how little she is allowed to be.
In my stories, namely House of Agreste, Flightless Birds, and the second half of Smalltown Boy, Ămilie steps out of the shadows and into her own body. She speaks, smokes, flirts, argues, grieves, and easily spins entire worlds around her. Still, no matter how vivid she becomes, her tragedy lingers. Like the women whose legacies have shaped her at various points in my stories, Adele Bloch-Bauer, Sharon Tate, Marie Antoinette, and Courtney Love, Ămilie is at once an icon and individual, muse and martyr, beauty and ruin. No matter where, when, or how, Ămilieâs image is never formed in a vacuum.
These women share little in biography, but much in aesthetic myth. They are looked at more than they are heard and they become symbols of everything society projects onto femininity: adoration, jealousy, control, desire, blame. Each of them, in different ways, informs the Ămilies Iâve built not as a one-to-one allegory but as facets in a broken mirror. Through them, Ămilie becomes a portrait, a ghost, a queen, and a calamity.Â
All the things we want from beautiful women, and all the ways we destroy them for it.
I. The Portrait: Ămilie as Adele Bloch-Bauer
To be painted is to be preserved, but not to live.
Adele Bloch-Bauer was a Jewish Viennese socialite and patron of the arts in the early 20th century, known for her intelligence, elegance, and sharp political mind. She was painted twice by Gustav Klimt, most famously in Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I, a masterpiece of gold leaf and patterning and a visual symbol in Miraculous throughout Seasons 1 to 5, as well as a haunting constant in House of Agreste. In the real world, the painting, later stolen by the Nazis and eventually returned to her family, became a symbol of her beauty and of a stolen legacy.
But in the portrait itself, naturally, Adele is unvoiced. Obviously, itâs a portrait. Sheâs stylized into ornament, a woman flattened into iconography, and her expression is completely unreadable beneath layers of abstraction. The real Adele disappears beneath Klimtâs devotion. She becomes mythic. Untouchable.
âI want it. How much could it be? Iâve yet to find a work of art I couldnât afford.â
âItâs one of the most famous paintings in the world, Ămilie. Itâs priceless. And I donât think itâd be fair to her niece.â
âThen I want to be her.â
Nathalie looked intrigued. âHer life was tragic. There really isnât much to envy.â
âNo, you donât understand,â she said as she took a few steps back, framing the painting from afar with her hands. âI want to be her. I want you to find me an artist I could commission to recreate it, in the exact style of Klimt. But I would be Adele Bloch-Bauer,â she turned to her then with a million-dollar smile. âYouâd do this for me, wouldnât you?â
âIâll⊠see what I can do.â
House of Agreste â Chapter 3
Ămilie inhabits a similar contradiction in House of Agreste. She is the face of Gabrielâs fashion empire, the namesake of his most celebrated dress, âThe Ămilie Dress,â which is reworked and paraded through every season like a ritual. Sheâs the woman behind the muse, but eventually, the muse overtakes the woman. Gabriel curates, rather than loves her. He dresses her like his very own Barbie Doll, displays her, claims her as his ultimate source of inspiration and creation in an interview with a British Vogue journalist. He elevates her into a symbol of his genius and her identity consequently becomes molded into fabric and sewn into silhouette.
And yet, Ămilie is no passive canvas. In my retelling, she participates in the mythmaking. She advises Gabriel on what women love and want, quotes Style Queen reviews back to him, lets herself be idealized and sometimes sharpens the illusion herself. She knows she is part of the exhibit. That her beauty, her body, her name are all on display.
But a portrait does not age. A portrait does not weep, or argue, or change. A portrait does not fight back. And when Ămilie disappears, Gabriel clings harder to the version of her he can control; namely the ghost in the painting. The muse who never says no.Â
The gold leaf, after all, never tarnishes.
II. The Beautiful Victim: Ămilie as Sharon Tate
As sad as it sounds, Sharon Tateâs death is what made her famous. Not her films, not her voice, not her love.Â
Sharon Tate has become less a woman than a genre: the innocent American starlet, framed in perfect 1960s light, forever paused just before catastrophe. What holds the publicâs fascination is her death, her beauty, her body, pregnant and doomed. She was lovely, and she was loved, and she was murdered, and the tragedy is made more palatable because she was photogenic.
âFirst of all,â she began, gently lifting Nathalieâs index finger as if to keep count. âYou know how my agent called the other day? I was cast to play Sharon Tate in a comedy-drama about Hollywoodâs golden age.â
âThatâs great,â she said, racking her brain to remember exactly who was Sharon Tate. âItâs a big role.â
âIt is. Iâve looked up to her for as long as I can remember. Iâve always said, if it wasnât for Gabriel, Iâd be living it up in LA, a house on the hills, partying every night. I can do a mean American accent, you want to hear it?
âUm...â
"We can run some lines together later. I canât wait to play her, even though Iâm not exactly chuffed by the thought of playing wife to Roman Polanski, but weâll cross that bridge when we come to it.â
House of Agreste â Chapter 3
For context, in House of Agreste, before her miscarriage, Ămilie was cast in a fictionalized version of Quentin Tarantino's Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. Naturally, Ămilie was thrilled. She idolized her! She wanted to wear the go-go boots and the eyeliner, to swirl around in sun-drenched California light and leave audiences breathless. For a brief moment, it felt like a tribute to the actress she loved so much.
Ămilie, in this story, is somewhere between a B-list and A-list actress, so, famous enough to be recognized, photographed, whispered about. She isn't a nobody dreaming of fame; sheâs there, or nearly there.
She knows what it's like to be a woman turned public property. To have people comment on her waistline in magazines, to be celebrated when she smiles and ripped apart when she doesnât. Sharon Tate represented a kind of performance Ămilie once aspired to; beauty without bitterness, attention without the sting. Sharon was a woman adored for being, not doing. She floated rather than clawed. That was what Ămilie admired: the ease, the myth of being wanted without having to fight for it.
But then Ămilie had the miscarriage.
And suddenly, she could not play a woman eight months pregnant who would be murdered onscreen for aesthetic purposes.
(Nota bene, and SPOILER alert for the real movie: in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, Sharon Tate's character is famously not murdered. Tarantino rewrites history, saving her in a fantasy of retroactive justice but even in that revision, she is more symbol than subject. Sheâs spared, but not centered. The myth remains intact.)
That moment reframes everything. Ămilie ceases to participate in the myth and becomes a critic of it, recognizes how beauty becomes a curse, how pregnancy becomes spectacle, how violence against women is endlessly reenacted for art and entertainment and catharsis. She now knows what it means to be adored until you bleed, and rejects the commodification of her own grief by refusing to let her body be a prop. This refusal, though, does not save her. Her trajectory, like Sharonâs, still leads to disappearance, to martyrdom, to myth.
She was beloved, and when she was gone, her image lingered longer than her voice ever did.Â
III. Let Them Wear Couture: Ămilie as Marie Antoinette
Marie Antoinette, frivolous queen of aesthetic excess, became the face of a revolution for what she represented. She was punished not because she was a tyrant, but for spending too much, dressing too extravagantly, smiling too prettily in a time of collapse.
âI would love to play Marie-Antoinette in a movie. I just⊠I get her.â
Nathalie smiled, meeting her eyes. âI get the feeling youâd make a very convincing Marie-Antoinette.â
âAnd Iâll take it as a compliment⊠Shall we go this way then?â
House of Agreste â Chapter 3
In House of Agreste, Ămilie is the queen of the house. She climbs the fashion ladder beside Gabriel as a business partner. She is the one who speaks to investors, who knows when to flatter and when to threaten.
What Marie Antoinette also was, though, was a queen who liked to play peasants. She escaped the constraints of Versailles by retreating to the Petit Trianon, where she dressed in linen chemises, milked cows for fun, and entertained fantasies of simplicity all while the country starved outside her fake little sanctuary. She was therefore also hated for the performance of humility, for making poverty look picturesque.
In Smalltown Boy, despite being literal royalty, Ămilie cosplays a broke girl, and Gabriel (Gabi, at the time), takes notice immediately.
âI donât hate it,â she says, dreamily. âThis place. Itâs got that bohemian charm you hear about in the Aznavour songs. Artists scraping by on passion and cheap wine⊠Not glamorous, but⊠weâre free. I could tell you a great deal about freedom. And how important it is to me.â
A small part of Gabi wants to point out that this studio is a romantic concept mostly for someone who grew up with more bathrooms than family members. Ămilie is like a modern-day Marie Antoinette when she built her little farm at Versailles and wore peasant âshepherdessâ dresses for fun, accidentally launching an entire trend in 1700s high-society court fashion. Heâs seen the glint of real silverware in the few boxes Ămilie brought along, the embossed stationery with her family crest. Itâs a constant reminder that if she fails, she can always go back to velvet drapes and fine china. If he fails, itâs back to⊠well, nothing.
The new context we were offered recently has given birth to yet another depiction of Ămilieâs character in my story.
She smokes secondhand cigarettes in her husband's crumbling flat, dresses like a waifish art student, flirts with other peopleâs trauma like itâs an aesthetic. Itâs not that she lacks intelligence, far from it. But her detachment is a luxury and she knows it.Â
Gabriel, in contrast, grew up in the kind of house that smelled like fryer grease and unpaid bills. He didnât pretend to be poor, he was. He worked shifts, and stared down the inevitability of staying small unless he carved out a future with his own hands. Their class difference is the unspoken language between them, one she occasionally romanticizes and he occasionally resents.
When they meet, she treats his reality like a costume party.Â
What a lovely place! sheâd exclaimed, twirling around the dead streets and sampling a single fry from the family-owned friterie. How quaint and charming!
Smalltown Boy â Chapter 2
She thinks of post offices and rusted fences as aesthetic, calls their attic of an apartment bohemian and wants to live in a Godard film where nobody eats but everyone is beautiful.
As a side note, and speaking of Godard, Ămilieâs relationship with performance, beauty, and the aestheticization of suffering is yet again depicted in Flightless Birds. In the story, Ămilie plays Nana in the movie Solitude, a fictional version of Vivre sa Vie [1962], and channels the same fragile beauty and performative despair that defined Anna Karinaâs character. Like Nana, Ămilie turns her suffering into spectacle. It allows her to rehearse tragedy, to play at ruin, to live out existential collapse onstage without having to truly endure it.
In conclusion, like Marie Antoinette, Ămilie doesnât mean to offend. Sheâs not malicious, sheâs curious, and doesnât see how her presence distorts the room. How her poverty is always a phase, a mood, a role she can exit at any time.Â
IV. Disaster Icon: Ămilie as Courtney Love
Where the previous icons Iâve named were silenced by death, Courtney Love has survived by being loud, brash, feral, loving, grieving, and resisting the saint-or-sinner binary forced onto widows and mothers. She is accused, exalted, and ridiculed in equal measure.
Audrey caught the girl giving her a nasty glare.
âOh, relax, Courtney Love, I wonât steal him from you,â she cackled, stepping closer. âHeard of you, Ămilie G.â
Flightless Birds â Chapter 4 (The Brooch)
When Audrey Bourgeois first meets Ămilie in Flightless Birds after praising Gabi for his incredibly promising first collection at Fashion Week, she narrows her eyes, sizes Ămilie up, and calls her, âCourtney Love.â Itâs not a compliment.Â
She mainly says it because of Ămilieâs grunge look in that scene, some kind of jab at it, but there are layers and implications that come with the name.
The name makes you think of fishnets, smeared lipstick, tabloid carnage. Courtney Love is a litmus test for everything people love and loathe about women. Was she the witch or the widow, the muse or the murderer, the parasite or the prophet?
So when Audrey calls Ămilie âCourtney Love,â what she means is too loud, too emotional, too ambitious, too sexual, too much. Basically, a woman who refuses to fade politely into the background of her famous manâs spotlight.
And Audreyâs not wrong.
In Flightless Birds, Ămilie has not yet become a muse as she is still fighting for control after escaping from an arranged marriage that would have ruined her, and is trying to make something of herself. Sheâs messy, sharp, magnetic, and much like Courtney, Ămilie falls in love with a man who is actively breaking. Gabriel, like Kurt Cobain, is an artist with a soft-spoken center and a gaping wound where emotional intimacy should live.Â
There was a pause, and then he replied. â(... ) Youâre whatâs keeping me sane.â
(...)
âI donât want you to be sane.â
House of Agreste â Chapter 1
âOf course he is,â Ămilie replied, positively glowing. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching him like an artistâs muse observing the creation of her own portrait. âHeâs fretting. You see that? The pacing, the refusal to rest⊠classic artiste behavior. Itâs thrilling. Passion like that, itâs⊠intoxicating. Nothing good ever comes out of a sound, undisturbed mind.â
House of Agreste â Chapter 1
Courtney Love was often vilified as manipulative, some kind of âYoko Ono figureâ blamed for Kurt Cobainâs self-destruction, as if women exist only to corrupt or save genius. In reality, theirs was a mutually destructive bond: two artists enabling each otherâs addictions. Ămilie and Gabriel mirror this dynamic closely, particularly in House of Agreste. She feeds his insanity, knows when heâs unraveling and leans into it, out of a private thrill. It makes her feel powerful, desired, and indispensable.
Whatâs interesting is that when I wrote House of Agreste, I hadnât consciously drawn the parallel to Courtney Love. And yet, the reference surfaces anyway in the scene where Audrey Bourgeois warns Gabriel about Ămilie. The myth was already there, waiting to be named.
âYou know, Gabriel, I donât carry Ămilie in my heart and never really have. I warned you from the beginning, didnât I? Told you she was all surface, no substance. Beautiful, yes, but insincere to her very core. And what did you do? You ignored me. Built your entire brand around her. Named collections after her. You practically handed her a pedestal and begged her to stand on it.â
âYour point?â
âMy point,â she said, circling him like a cat with a mouse, âis that she doesnât love you. She loves what you represent; adoration, power, relevance. Thatâs all sheâs ever cared about.â
âAll right.â His voice was a knife in velvet. âYouâve made yourself perfectly clear.â
âHave I? Because youâre still standing there, pretending sheâs the saint you painted her as. Iâm not trying to be cruel, Gabriel. Iâm trying to save you from yourself. One day, sheâs going to leave, and when she does, there wonât be enough left of you to stitch together.â
House of Agreste â Chapter 5
Courtney Love was never forgiven for surviving Kurt. Not because anyone really believed she killed him, but because people wanted to believe she could.
Unlike the popular story of Kurt and Courtney, though, Gabriel lives. And in living, he rewrites everything. He makes Ămilie into his excuse, his idol, his martyr, the perfect posthumous love story. What he cannot control in life, he canonizes in loss.
âYou owned the 90s and God knows there was some tough competition out there. Do you know what it takes to be able to steal the spotlight from the likes of Chanel, Prada and Versace at that time? You put up a fierce fight this last decade too, and I know youâve got so much more to give to this world⊠At the end of the day, you made this happen with your own two hands. She helped, but she didnât make you, you made your own self. You can do it without her.â
House of Agreste â Chapter 9
When the smoke clears in the end, we remember the geniuses these two women loved. But we never stop talking about the women who were too loud next to them.
V. The Afterlife of Ămilie
What links all of these women, Adele, Sharon, Marie Antoinette, Courtney, is the way they persist even when gone, or shunned, or vilified, they remain embedded in culture. As a painting, a headline, a cautionary tale.
But perhaps the most chilling thing is that we never get Ămilie whole. Not in canon, and not even in fanfiction. Every version of her is a reconstruction, including mine. Itâs always a narrative curated by someone else, a story told by those who survived her.
Which is to say: Ămilie is a reflection of how we view women and of what we value in their silence, of what we mourn and what we fetishize. She is a beautiful corpse, a golden queen, a dirt-streaked child in the woods, she is a ghost in couture, and like all women who are too looked-at and too loved, she is more myth than memory.
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