#living arrangements

[mintaka14]

Welcome to Chapter 9 of Living Arrangements, my Lukanette ML AU fanfic where they were roommates! Thank you for your patience, and now, sit back and hopefully enjoy:

Living Arrangements

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter 9 – Old Friends and Complications

'Cause she don't need umbrellas in a summer rain She could catch the eye of a hurricane in blue jeans and pearls

[I Met a Girl: William Michael Morgan]

The café that Adrien had suggested wasn’t one that Marinette was familiar with. She checked the address, and checked it again before she pushed open the doors. The café was full of hushed, business-like conversations going on over the soft clink of gleaming silverware and tasteful china.

A young woman around Marinette’s age in a starched black and white uniform greeted her with a bright, customer service smile.

 “Welcome,” she said, “and how may I help you today?”

“I’m… uh, meeting someone here,” Marinette said a little uncertainly.

“Of course. Do you have a reservation with us today?”

“Sorry?”

“Your reservation. What name is it under?”

What kind of café needed a reservation?

“… Agreste,” she said, and the waitress’ smile grew more perfunctory. She glanced down at the appointment book in front of her.

“We do seem to have a booking today.” Her gaze swept over Marinette, and lightened as she seemed to reach a conclusion. “You must be here for an interview with Gabriel’s recruitment manager. She’s not here yet, but we’ve reserved the usual table -”

“Actually, I’m meeting Adrien Agreste,” Marinette tried to clarify. The customer service smile grew condescending.

“I’m afraid Adrien Agreste doesn’t usually meet with new hires in person. But you’re welcome to wait until Mlle Garamond arrives.”

“No, I –“

Before Marinette could finish trying to explain, the waitress had turned away to lead her to a reserved table. Marinette gave up the attempt. She shrugged herself out of her jacket, and draped it over the back of the chair, setting her bag beside her as she sat down.

Marinette could hear Tikki rustling around in her bag as she stashed it near her feet, and it was very distracting. Usually, Tikki was content to snuggle down, and maybe play a silent game or two on Marinette’s phone, but the kwami was oddly restless. The bag gave an odd little skip, and tipped over.

Marinette bent to straighten it, and whispered into her bag, “Is everything okay?”

Tikki blinked up at her, almost vibrating. “You’re going to see Adrien again,” she whispered back. “Are you okay?”

“Mademoiselle?” the waitress said from somewhere above her. Marinette’s head slammed into the underside of the table as she jerked upright. When she straightened, rubbing the aching back of her head, the waitress was regarding her with a raised eyebrow and a menu in her hand.

“Would you like to order anything, mademoiselle?”

Marinette fumbled her sketchbook out of her bag and held it up with a nervous little laugh.

"Just… doing a bit of work. I’ll wait for… I’ll wait, thanks.”

The waitress’ eyebrow climbed even higher, but she turned away without a word.

Marinette opened her sketchbook, sparing a grimace in response to Tikki’s wide-eyed look of sympathy from the depths of her bag, and started making notes to distract herself from the whispers and glances around her.

She flipped another page, losing herself in the movement of her pencil, and didn’t notice when the café door chimed and all the subdued conversations in the café seemed to pause for a moment.

A hand drew back the chair opposite her.

“You’re early. That doesn’t seem like the Marinette Dupain-Cheng I remember,” a voice said lightly, and Marinette looked up, startled, into Adrien Agreste’s famous smile.

“Oh my god,” the waitress gasped, sharp over the soft buzz of whispers and recognition that rippled through the café. “It really is Adrien Agreste!”

It was like a spotlight had been switched on, glinting on his golden hair and brilliant, photo-ready smile. Marinette’s practised eye for fashion design couldn’t help sweeping over the lines of the casual suit he was wearing that was anything but casual, and she would have bet that it cost more than her entire wardrobe. It did sit well on him, she had to admit, even if he did look as though a team of stylists had spent hours crafting the perfect look (Summer Catalogue, page five. Cool linens for that casual look, said a sarcastic little voice in her head that sounded like one of the kwamis, and she hastily silenced it).

Marinette blinked, and glanced away, half-expecting the flash of cameras to have followed him in, but all she saw was café patrons watching with varying degrees of avid attention, and the waitress with her wide eyes fixed on Adrien and all traces of supercilious boredom gone. The girl was practically trembling with speechless excitement, and Marinette felt like she was staring at her fourteen-year-old self. Marinette looked away, to find Adrien still smiling down at her, his hand resting on the back of his chair.

He still had that air of open guilelessness that she remembered from the boy she’d known before, but now, on the man he’d grown into, it felt as much of a curated image choice as his suit did.

“Well, we’ve both changed a bit in the last few years,” she said.

“You’ve certainly grown up since I last saw you. You’re looking well,” he said with unmistakable admiration in his voice as he sat down, and Marinette couldn’t help blushing furiously. Back in collège, something like that from Adrien would have reduced her to an incoherent mess. As it was, she dropped her eyes, focusing on the table for a moment. 

“I’m feeling a little underdressed, though,” she admitted. “If I’d known what this place was like, I would have dressed up more. I think I’m the only one wearing jeans here.”

Adrien looked around in mild surprise. “I suppose you are. I know our recruitment manager likes to hold business meetings here because she likes the rhum baba, and I used to come here with Father sometimes when he met with private clients. I remember it as being good.”

The waitress had recovered from her starstruck paralysis, and rustled between the tables towards them with a couple of menus clutched in her hands.

Adrien turned his attention back to Marinette, his gaze raking over her as he said, “You might be the only one wearing jeans here, but no one else could make them look that good.”

“Adrien!” she sputtered, feeling her face burn.

Then he said, “You’re injeanious,” and his professional, perfect smile cracked into a shit-eating grin that was so unlike the Adrien she knew that for one wild second Marinette didn’t know how to respond. She stared at him, and tried to suppress the weird sound between a groan and a snort of laughter that escaped her as his words sank in.

Adrien’s grin grew wider.

“Was that meant to be a pun?” Marinette asked in disbelief. Since when did Adrien Agreste make puns? “That was terrible!”

The waitress flashed her a disparaging look, and then ignored her completely, as she breathed, “Adrien Agreste!” She thrust the menus at him. “I’m your waitress. I’m Josephine. What can I get you? Can I get you anything? Anything you want, just let me know...”

Adrien was still watching Marinette, with a hint of that grin lingering.

“Have you ordered yet?” he asked her. “What would you like? Coffee? Tea? Or they used to have a really good vin chaud here.”

Marinette had a memory of Luka in the kitchen that morning, smiling his slow, sweet smile as he handed her a mug, and his voice a little rough with lack of sleep as he asked, “Coffee, Melody?”

“Tea with lemon would be lovely, please,” she said. She wondered if she was actually going to get the tea. She wasn’t convinced the waitress had actually heard her.

“I’ll have a black coffee, thanks,” Adrien said, hitting the waitress with that dazzling smile.

Adrien settled back into his seat, and he waited until Josephine was gone, his eyes on Marinette. He seemed to be studying Marinette’s face as if he was looking for something, and she shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

“Your recruitment manager must come here a lot. The waitress was convinced that I was here for a job interview with Gabriel,” she said to break the awkward silence.

“Gabriel would be lucky to get you.” 

Marinette couldn’t help the dismissive sound she made. “You don’t have to say that to be polite. You don’t even know if my work is any good.”

Adrien’s smile grew warmer. “Don’t forget, I’ve worn your designs. You got Father’s attention back in collège, and believe me, that’s not easy to do.”

“For a kids’ competition,” Marinette scoffed, feeling her cheeks heat up again. “That’s a long way off scoring a position at Gabriel, or any of the fashion houses for that matter.”

“It’s only a matter of time,” Adrien shrugged, and glanced up to give the waitress a smile and a murmured thank you as she settled his cup of coffee in front of him and fussed with the placement of the teaspoon and petit fours beside it. “Alya showed me some of the photos from your showcase last year. This is your third year at IFM, isn’t it?”

Marinette nodded faintly. 

Josephine slid a dish of tea in her direction.  Marinette thanked her, and decided not to mention the absence of lemon. She lifted the dish to her lips and sipped the scalding tea carefully.

“So what are you planning to do after that?” Adrien asked, and Marinette responded, but she felt very aware of the waitress hovering around their table with carafes of water and cutlery they didn’t need. Marinette answered Adrien’s questions and talked self-consciously about her plans and possibilities, and tried to ignore that Josephine and half the café were likely listening to every word.

Adrien, on the other hand, seemed sublimely unconcerned by the surreptitious interest around them. He flashed Josephine a smile every time she topped up his already full glass of water, and he leaned in a little closer to ask Marinette about her fashion marketing classes when Josephine finally ran out of reasons to linger and retreated to the café counter.

He knew most of Marinette’s professors when she mentioned them, and when she told a story about one of the guest lecturers who had been particularly brutal, he laughed.

“I don’t know about that,” Adrien said, “but I do know that Father refuses to work with him again.”

Marinette leaned forward, and propped her chin in her hands.

“Father brought him in for a ready to wear line,” he went on, “and they fought over the whole thing from start to finish. Things really blew up, though, when the patterns went out to the manufacturer, and somehow no one spotted that some of the dimensions were out by a factor of ten.”

“No!” Marinette pressed her fingertips to her lips to suppress a horrified snort of laughter.

“Oh, yes. Father blamed Fabian, Fabian blamed my father, and I don’t know which one of them threw the bigger fit about it, but in the end Father threatened to have security fling Fabian into the street if he ever darkened our doors again.”

“The glamorous world of fashion,” Marinette giggled, and Adrien gave an exaggerated sigh.

“The things I’ve seen since I started working with my father.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing since you left Paris? Working at Gabriel?” she asked. “I mean, we know you’re still modelling, obviously –“ It would have been hard to miss - there were still billboards of him all over Paris, and every fashion magazine had him splashed all over the covers. Adrien pulled a wry face that didn’t make him look any less perfect.

“That wasn’t exactly my idea, but it’s good for Gabriel’s profile, according to Father’s PR gurus. And I’ve been shadowing Father in the company, learning more about the business side of things, since I passed the international bac.” He picked up the teaspoon beside his half-drunk coffee, turning it in his fingers.

“And now you’re back in Paris.”

“I’m back to stay,” he agreed.

“It’s good to have you home again,” Marinette said, and Adrien’s green eyes lit up at the polite sentiment. “It’s been too long since we’ve heard from you.”

“Yeah, I know I haven’t been that good at keeping in touch,” he said a little guiltily. “Things have been rather busy the past few years.”

“We were all a bit worried when you just left without a word, and even Nino didn’t know what the story was.”

“It was nothing that exciting,” he said, absently stirring a pattern in his coffee. “Father had been considering going to New York for a while, to oversee a few changes the company was planning to make there, and then… well, a few things happened, and we had to leave for New York pretty quickly. I wanted to say goodbye before we left, but Father didn’t really see any point…” Adrien trailed off, looking uncomfortable for the first time since he’d walked into the café, and Marinette was suddenly very conscious of all the surreptitious eyes watching them, and the ears listening. Over by the counter, Josephine had given up all pretence of doing anything but eavesdropping on their conversation.

Like they always did when Marinette was nervous, a jumble of words crowded into her mouth, and before she could stop herself, she found herself blurting out the first thing that came to her, “At least we knew you hadn’t been abducted by aliens or anything.”

Marinette cringed, but the discomfort in Adrien’s face disappeared. His eyes flicked up to hers with a startled look.

“Aliens?”

“When you left Paris, we knew you probably hadn’t been abducted by aliens, because you were all over the magazine covers, and we saw all the interviews you did,” she ploughed on, and then giggled. “Although Kim did come up with a whole deep fake theory for a while, until Max talked him out of it.”

Adrien stared at her. “I’m almost afraid to ask –“

“The board of directors put it out that you and your father had moved to New York so that no one would find out that they’d locked you both in the basement and replaced you with AI simulants,” she recited glibly.

Adrien’s startled laugh was loud enough to draw attention from everyone in the café. He glanced around apologetically, with that bright golden smile of his that melted all the disapproving looks into indulgent smiles, and he turned back to Marinette.

 “Seriously?” he asked. “Why?”

Marinette was trying to keep a straight face herself as she told him, “Well, Kim couldn’t decide if it was because your father was about to announce a line of clothing so horrendous that it would destroy the company if they didn’t get rid of him, or if it was because he’d come up with a revolutionary new flipper shoe and had to be stopped before foreign agents could steal the designs and weaponise them.”

Adrien started laughing helplessly. “You’re so funny, Marinette.” His laugh faded. “I wish we’d been able to talk like this, the last few years. I’ve missed this,” he said, his green eyes meeting hers, and she felt a pang of sympathy for the boy who’d been so desperate for friends, for school, for something resembling a normal life. And he’d just disappeared one day without so much as a goodbye to any of them except Nino.

 “We missed you, too,” Marinette told him gently. “I know Nino’s organising some sort of a collège reunion party while you’re in Paris.”

“No, I mean –“

“Can I refill your coffee for you?” Josephine asked, materialising beside them.

Adrien’s practised, brilliant smile switched on as he turned to glance up at the waitress hovering at his elbow with a coffee pot in her hand.

“No. No, thank you. I’ll be up all night if I have another coffee now, and I have a photoshoot at the crack of dawn tomorrow,” he said with a charming, self-deprecating roll of his eyes that had Josephine practically swooning. “Although your coffee is nearly worth risking Vincent yelling at me when I turn up with bags under my eyes.”

Josephine was still giggling as she backed away again.

Adrien glanced at Marinette’s empty tea cup once she’d gone. “She forgot your tea.”

“I think you have a fan there,” Marinette said quietly, and Adrien glanced behind him.

Josephine was on her way back to them before he’d even finished turning his head.

“Is everything alright?” she asked eagerly, the words tripping over themselves in a way that felt all too familiar to Marinette. “Can I get you anything?”

“My friend would like another cup of tea, if it’s not too much trouble,” he said.

“No, it’s okay,” Marinette protested, but neither of them seemed to hear her as Josephine spilled out apologies, and Adrien cut the waitress off with another smile.

“We really appreciate the way you’ve looked after us today,” he told her.

“I’m such a huge fan,” she blurted out, and Adrien’s smile grew brighter.

 “And I’m so glad to have the support of fans like you, Josephine. I’d be happy to take a photo with you, if you have a camera handy,” he offered, and Josephine stammered out something before bolting hastily. She came back with a phone in her hand.

Adrien turned that smile on Marinette, one eyebrow lifting.

“Would you mind?” he asked her, and she took the phone while Adrien smiled at the camera and Josephine gazed up at him as if she couldn’t quite believe he was real. Marinette handed back the phone.

“No one would have believed me, if I just told them I met Adrien Agreste,” Josephine sighed happily. “Thank you. I… thank you!” And she disappeared into the back of the café, clutching her phone as if it held something unspeakably precious.

“You still get a lot of that,” Marinette said, quietly enough that no one nearby could hear, as Adrien sat down again. His brilliant smile grew a little wry.

“I’m used to it. Remember the day we hid from that mob that chased us?”

“I remember.”

“It’s not uncommon, although that’s the only time I’ve hidden in a fountain to get away from them,” he teased.

Marinette buried her face in her hands. “I still can’t believe I did that.”

“Hey, it worked. They can be pretty persistent sometimes.”

“That’s why Luka dyed his hair and wears long sleeves when he goes out,” Marinette said, and reached for the empty teacup to hide the fond smile she could feel spreading across her face. She instantly felt silly for pretending to drink tea that clearly wasn’t there.

“Luka?” and Adrien’s brow creased at the unfamiliar name. “Who’s Luka?”

“He’s Juleka’s brother,” she explained, trying not to sound self-conscious. “I moved in with him and Juleka a few months ago.”

Adrien’s frown deepened. “Is he your –“

“Your tea!” Josephine interrupted brightly as she returned with a fresh, steaming cup, but her eyes were on Adrien.

A look of cold annoyance flashed across his face at the interruption, and for a moment the resemblance to his father was uncanny, then it vanished, wiped away by his habitual, charming smile, but Josephine’s hand jerked nervously and the teacup skittered in its saucer with a clatter of china as she put it down.

Marinette barely had time to feel second-hand cringe before the cup tipped, sending the tea spilling down the front of her blouse in a scalding splash. She couldn’t help the faint cry as hot liquid hit her blouse and soaked through the thin fabric, dripping in burning trails down her chest. She hunched over, trying to pull the blouse away from her skin.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Josephine gasped.

Marinette glanced up, her mouth open to respond, but the girl was staring at Adrien, her eyes wide in horror.

Adrien gave Josephine a reassuring smile.

“I’m such a klutz,” she was babbling. “I can’t believe I was such an idiot in front of Adrien Agreste.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her. “No harm done.”

Marinette glanced down at the spreading stain on her shirt. She had a sudden, unpleasant flash of memory – Adrien, in collège, telling her not to call out Lila’s lies because they weren’t hurting anyone – and she shifted uncomfortably, pushing the moment aside. The waitress wasn’t Lila, and hadn’t deliberately spilt the tea on Marinette.

“It’s fine,” Marinette said wearily. “Accidents happen, I know.”

And Marinette was rewarded with Adrien’s full-wattage smile, but she was too distracted to appreciate it. She took the napkin that Josephine was holding out vaguely in her direction, and patted at the damp brown spot without much success.

“I should go,” she sighed, dabbing at her shirt again. “Maybe if I get this in to soak quickly, I can get the stain out.”

She put down the napkin and reached for her bag, but Adrien stretched out a hand as if to hold her back.

“Oh, no, do you have to? It’s barely noticeable, and it’ll dry soon.”

He was right, it would dry quickly, but that was the problem. Once the stain was dry, it would set beyond much hope of repair. Maybe if she got some bicarb soda and detergent on it, she could still save it… Adrien was saying something.

 “… I’m sure Josephine can bring you another cup of tea, and we can finish catching up.” That famous smile was still turned on her. “I’ll get you a new blouse, it’s the least I can do.”

Marinette didn’t mention that finding a replacement for this particular blouse would be impossible. Josephine was spilling out reassurances to Adrien that she’d replace the tea, bring petit fours on the house, anything he wanted, anything at all …

“It’s okay. I really do have to go,” Marinette apologised, and started to gather up her bag and her jacket, shrugging it on over her soaked blouse. She stuffed her phone into her bag, and rummaged around in the depths under the tangle of keys, tissues and pencils trying to find her wallet, until Tikki silently pushed it into her hand. “It was nice to catch up, though.”

She tugged her credit card out of her wallet, and held it out to the waitress to pay, but before Josephine could take it, Adrien had produced a sleek black visa card.

 “Don’t worry about the bill,” he insisted. “There have to be some advantages to having a company credit card.”

 “Adrien –“ she protested as Josephine froze, with her hand hovering between the two proffered cards. Her anxious gaze shifted from Adrien to Marinette and back again.

Rather than leave the poor girl stuck while she argued the point with Adrien, Marinette put her card back into her wallet, and stuffed it into her bag.          

“Okay,” she gave in, “but next time is on me.”

His smile grew, as if he’d just scored a point. “It’s a deal. I’ll look forward to next time.”

When she brushed a quick bise against his cheek in farewell, Adrien seemed to lean in to it. His hand tightened briefly on her forearm.

 “Until next time,” he told her, and Marinette hurried out the door of the café in a jangle of bells.

~~~~~  

Luka was there when she got back to the apartment, stretched out on the couch and focused on his laptop.

 “You’re home early,” he said, looking up as she came in, and gave her a smile that faded into a look of concern as he caught sight of her blouse. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s just a tea spill,” she tried to say lightly. “It’s not a big deal.”

He was still frowning, as if he wasn’t buying it, but all he said was, “Is there anything I can do? I’ve got to take a load of washing over to the Liberty later anyway –“

Marinette shook her head, and her own smile felt a little crooked. “It’s fine. I’m just going to try soaking it in the bathroom.”

She’d changed into an old t-shirt and was standing over the bathroom basin, anxiously eyeing the blouse soaking in cold water and working a bicarb and detergent paste into the tea stain, when her phone rang. Alya had obviously given up on waiting for a response to the increasingly peremptory string of texts that had been pinging on Marinette’s phone and had decided on the direct approach.

“Well?” Alya’s voice demanded. “Don’t keep me hanging here! How did it go?”

Marinette sighed, and stirred the blouse in the cloudy water. “Do you ever have the feeling you’re cursed?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Look, Alya, I’ve got to go finish washing this tea stain out.”

 “What tea stain?” But Alya had obviously come to her own conclusions, and a sympathetic, if slightly impatient, laugh came through on the other end of the phone. “Girl, you’re hopeless. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Marinette found herself protesting to the sound of the dial tone. Alya must have been already on her way, because it wasn’t long before Marinette heard the doorbell ring. Nothing motivated Alya like the scent of gossip in the water.

The doorbell rang again impatiently, and she heard Luka getting to his feet. She wrung out the blouse to drape it over the towel rail. It would have to do.

She came into the living room just as Luka opened the door, and heard Alya asking him with studied casualness, “Hey, Luka. How’s it going?”

Alya followed Luka up the steps into the living room, and her uncomfortable defensiveness was obvious to Marinette as she came into view. Judging by the way the way Luka’s mouth twitched imperceptibly, it was obvious to him too.

 “Not bad,” was all he said, amusement lurking in his voice. “And you?”

“Oh, good, I’m good.” There was an awkward pause. “If you’re not doing anything, you should come to Nino’s next gig on Friday,” she added abruptly, and Marinette suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the unspoken no hard feelings in Alya’s voice and posture. “You’d probably enjoy it, he’s really good.”

Luka’s easy expression didn’t change, but there was a gleam of humour in the depths of his blue eyes. “I’ll see if I’m free,” he said easily.

Alya abandoned the attempt at pleasantries as she caught sight of Marinette.

“Alright,” she demanded. “Spill. How did the date go?”

“Alya –“ Marinette sighed.

“I know, I know. Not a date. You were having coffee.”

“I didn’t get coffee - it was just a cup of tea,” Marinette protested, flicking a quick glance at Luka as she moved past the couch towards the kitchen, but he’d gone back to frowning at his laptop screen as if he hadn’t heard anything. “I didn’t even have anything to eat with it.”

 “Oh-kay…” Alya said, giving her a bemused look and following on her heels. “Well, whatever it was, stop holding out on me and spill the details. What did he say? What did you say? I assume you can actually talk to him these days. And what was all that cryptic stuff about being cursed?”

At that, Luka shifted and got to his feet with a sigh. His eyes met Marinette’s, and the corner of his mouth turned up in a brief half-smile that didn’t give much away.

 “This paper is giving me hell, so I’m going to go out for a walk, try to clear my head.” He reached for his coat draped over the back of the couch beside him. He shrugged himself into it, and glanced over his shoulder to tell Marinette, “The place is all yours for a few hours.”

“You don’t have to leave for us,” she protested, but he just gave her a quick smile, and headed down the steps, his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat.

Alya watched him leave, and before the door had even closed properly behind him, she turned back to Marinette with a knowing smirk.

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy there?”

“Who, Luka? Why on earth would he be jealous?”

“Well, he didn’t exactly want to hang around and hear all about your coffee date, did he?”

Marinette levelled a look at Alya. “Or he didn’t want to stay so you could be hostile at him again.”

“Hey, I was perfectly friendly! I invited him to Nino’s gig, didn’t I?” Alya protested. She followed Marinette back into the living room as Marinette scooped up her jacket from where she’d left by the door when she’d come home. “And of course he’s jealous. The guy looks at you like you’re his favourite snack - of course he’s jealous that you just spent the afternoon with Paris’ most famous supermodel and heir to the Agreste empire.”

Marinette stopped in the middle of folding her jacket, and turned to knit her brow at her best friend. Alya had said something at the bar the other night about the way Luka looked at Marinette, but she’d just dismissed that as too many cocktails and Alya reading too much into things.

“Paris’ very single supermodel,” Alya added slyly.

“Oh, but Adrien’s not single,” Marinette cut her off brightly, “not according to the Daily Mail – he’s in a very serious threesome with one of the British royals and that guy from last season’s I’m a Celebrity. And I know how you feel about the Daily Mail’s sources on these things.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Alya grumbled. “But I’m right about this. I know what I’ve seen with my own eyes. You can’t say that’s not reliable –“ Marinette chose not to respond to that  “- and, since we’re talking reliable sources, I’d just like to point out that I know for a fact that the first thing that Adrien did when he got back to Paris was ask me and Nino for your number,” Alya pointed out triumphantly.

“Seriously, it was just catching up with an old friend from collège. I’m not even sure we have all that much in common anymore.”

“You’re both in fashion. You have that in common. You didn’t talk about that?”

“Well, yes, until I ended up with tea all down my blouse and I had to leave,” she said without meaning to, and Alya pounced on the hint of gossip.

“Is that why you were washing out tea stains when I called?” she demanded.

By the time Marinette gave in and told her the details, culminating in getting the cup of tea knocked all over her, Alya was chuckling.

“Oh, girl, only you!” Her laugh became a knowing smirk. “Still klutzing out around Adrien, huh? Nice to know some things never change.”

Marinette sighed. “It really wasn’t my fault this time.”

Alya waved away the protest. “Yeah, yeah, it was the waitress.”

Marinette scooped up her bag, which she’d left by the stairs when she’d come home, and stole a quick look to check that Tikki had managed to sneak away to the bedroom. An odd smell of cheese wafted up from her bag, and she wrinkled her nose. What on earth had Tikki been eating in there? She’d have to clean it later… and all thoughts of weird smells got left aside as she realised what definitely wasn’t in her bag. Marinette scuffled through the mess with increasing agitation while Alya kept talking.

 “- and Nino’s planning to throw that reunion party for Adrien, so -” Alya broke off when Marinette upended everything onto the couch. “Jeez, Marinette, what’s up? Lost your phone or something?”

 “Worse,” Marinette muttered, focused on the assorted junk on the couch. Her lipstick, her spare pens, her wallet, the sheaf of course notes from three days ago were all there, but there was no sign of the one thing she really needed. “My sketchbook. I must have left it at the café –“

That was the last time she knew she’d seen it. She’d been sketching out ideas while she’d waited, and then Adrien had turned up and she’d –

Alya laughed, and said, “Well, isn’t that just the perfect excuse to see Adrien again. Maybe he picked it up for you.”

Marinette glared at her. “Alya, this is serious! That book has all my notes, my sketches for the finals, everything.”

Alya scooped Marinette’s phone up from the litter on the couch, and held it out to her.

“So just call him,” she insisted with a roll of her eyes. “It’s not a big deal, and at least you’ll know if he’s got your sketchbook or not. If he hasn’t got it, then you can panic.”

And, sure enough, there was a message from Adrien that she’d missed while she was washing her blouse, in the middle of Alya’s texts. Marinette ignored Alya’s questioning eyebrow, and tapped out a quick response that had an answer within seconds of hitting send.

“He has it,” she said as she put aside her phone. “I can pick it up tomorrow.”

“And you have another date with Adrien,” Alya said on a note of satisfaction.

“It’s –“

“Not a date,” Alya chimed in, rolling her eyes again.

She didn’t stay long after that, and Marinette was left pacing the apartment, feeling twitchy and unsettled. Between Alya getting into her head about Luka, and a growing feeling of anxiety when her thoughts swung round to her sketchbook and having to go the Gabriel offices the next day to get it back from Adrien, it took her longer than it should have to realise that the noise when she pushed open her bedroom door wasn’t just a manifestation of the agitation in her head.

Tikki was flitting around with unusual energy, and there seemed to be an escalating argument going on. None of the kwamis noticed Marinette.

“There’s sssomething he’ss keeping to himssself. I don’t like thisss at all,” Sass hissed, swaying over the coil of his tail, as Tikki zipped past his head.

“I’m staying out of it,” Roarr yawned, “but I agree with Sass. Something doesn’t smell right.”

“That would be the cheese,” one of the kwamis snickered.

A tiny rubber banana ricocheted off Roarr’s head, and she bared her fangs, snarling at Xuppu as he drew back his arm to launch another one. The second banana caught Roarr between the eyes, and the monkey kwami bounced out of reach as Roarr’s snarl became a low, warning growl.

“I’m sure he’ll be looking for an opportunity to see me again, and fill me in,” Tikki said defensively, just as Fluff tumbled out of the air to land on Marinette’s bed, startling the kwamis clustered there.

“Trussst you to make excussses for him.”

“A tale as old as time,” Fluff announced out of nowhere, “and I should know.”

The little rabbit somersaulted over the edge of the bed, and vanished again. Sass’s forked tongue flickered.

“Sssome people don’t deserve the sssecond chancesss they’ve been given,” he hissed. “And I should know.”

“That was not his fault, and you know that, too. He didn’t have any choice about leaving us-“

“Much asss that cheesemonger itchesss my fangss, I wasssn’t talking about -”

“What on earth is going on?” Marinette finally managed to make herself heard over the rising noise, and everything went quiet. Tikki whipped around guiltily. Marinette eyed the hovering kwami for a long moment, and glanced at Sass on the window sill. His tail was still flicking against the painted wood with an agitation that she’d never seen in him before.

“Does anyone want to explain what’s going on here?”

Before anyone else could answer, Tikki swooped through the air to hover in front of her face.

“It was nothing,” Tikki insisted, her big eyes going wide with an unconvincing innocence. “Just a small disagreement.”

“Who were you talking about?” Marinette asked, directing the question past Tikki at the snake kwami, but Tikki whirled around to intercept Marinette’s attention before Sass could answer.

“We should go out. How long has it been since you transformed? It would be good for you – you’ve been so wound up since we got home,” Tikki suggested, as if she hadn’t just been doing manic little spirals in the air. “You could use a bit of fresh air. You really shouldn’t let yourself get out of practice.”

“Becaussse that’sss what we ssshould be focusssed on right now,” Sass said caustically, and Tikki whirled around to face him, glaring.

Their voices rose, and the other kwamis threw in opinions and unhelpful, inflammatory comments that escalated until the room was full of shouting and Marinette had to clap her hands over her ears. She felt a sudden spike of panic at the thought of what would happen if Luka got back before she could get the kwamis calmed down. There was no way Marinette would be able to explain away the noise that they were all making.

“Enough!” she finally shouted over the top of them, glaring around the room as she flipped her hair back to touch her miraculous earrings. “Do you want Luka or Juleka to walk in on all this? You and me, Tikki, we’re going out, and when we get back we’re all going to have a nice, calm discussion about this that doesn’t involve the neighbours calling the police on me, or having to lie to my roommates, or bananas,” she added sternly as she caught sight of Xuppu out of the corner of her eye, just as he drew his arm back to throw something.

The little monkey hid whatever it was behind his back, and gave Marinette a sheepish grin as she transformed.

At least the streets of Paris felt quieter than her room had, once she swung out over the rooftops. It was good to feel the wind in her face, and focus on the adrenaline rush of every leap, on the way her heart rate sped up in a steady rhythm and her mind moved sharp and fast across the rooftops ahead. Tikki was right about one thing, even if she’d only suggested it to avoid answering Marinette – it had been far too long since she’d gone for a run as Ladybug.

It was an uneventful night down below her in Paris, and things had calmed down in her bedroom by the time Marinette finally landed back through the window. Most of the kwamis had vanished into their various corners and nests, but Sass reared up his head as she came in. The tip of his tail was twitching.

“Did you sssee anyone interesssting?” he asked Tikki, a trace of acid in his tone. She huffed, and flitted away to sulk without answering the question or staying to continue the argument that had started it all.

Marinette eyed Sass.

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” she asked.

The little snake turned a thoughtful look in the direction of Tikki’s nest, and said, “Jussst an old argument among usss kwamisss.”

Marinette stared at him, and Sass stared back at her, unblinking. He added slyly, “I hear Luka’ss back.”

As distractions went, it was a pretty effective one, and Marinette also took his subtle reminder that they weren’t alone in the apartment. Even so, she thought for a moment about pushing harder, but when Sass flicked a meaningful glance in the direction of the shelves, she gave up on getting a straight answer from him with all the kwamis listening in from their various hidey-holes and perches, not when it might start off another noisy disruption.

Instead, she listened for the soft sounds that meant that Luka was home again, and working in the living room. She reached for her bedroom door without conscious thought, her suspicions and concerns about the kwamis’ moods temporarily put aside.

Luka had his guitar on his lap, and pages of music scattered like snow-drifts all over the floor. There was an unfamiliar stringed instrument lying on the couch beside him. He was scribbling something on the stack of manuscript, and then let it flutter to the floor to join the other marked pages piling up around him.

The lamp shone on his blue-dyed hair, filtering through the rumpled strands like sunlight falling through deep water, and Marinette was tempted to reach out and tangle her fingers in the soft strands. She wished she could work out how to recreate that effect in fabric. Maybe a watered silk, hand-dyed, if she could get the right blend of shades…

She only realised she’d been lost in staring at him when Luka sighed and straightened, and caught sight of her. Bedroom eyes, Alya’s voice whispered slyly in the back of her mind, and Marinette could feel a blush burning her cheeks. He gave her a soft smile, which didn’t help at all.

“Sorry, was I disturbing you?” he asked quietly, and she shook her head. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Just after midnight,” she said just as quietly.

“That explains why my hand’s so sore, then.” He sighed, and massaged his wrist. When Marinette came further into the room, he shifted a few loose pages out of the way so she could curl up in her usual place beside him on the couch, but she hesitated, suddenly very aware of just how close it would put them. She silently cursed her best friend for getting into her head, leaving her searching for signs of something more in the slow, sweet smile he always gave her.

When she hesitated a little too long, his smile became a question, and she made herself relax into the space beside him.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask before - how did things go catching up with your friend this afternoon?” he asked, and Marinette filled him in on the whole afternoon. She couldn’t help a soft huff of a laugh when she got to the spilled tea.

“The waitress was so busy trying to impress Adrien that by the end of it she’d forgotten I was even there, she was so busy apologising to him –“

“Wait, she was apologising to him, not you?” Luka interjected.

 “Well, I get it. I did far stupider things when I was trying to get his attention back in collège.”

Luka’s brow creased, but all he said was, “Did you manage to get the stain out?”

“Mostly. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wear it again, though…” she trailed off in thought. “Unless, maybe, I can embroider it, or add something…”

She pulled herself back before she could get too side-tracked by creative solutions, but Luka’s frown had melted into a fond smile as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and didn’t mind at all that her attention had wandered.

She found herself feeling self-conscious again as their eyes met, but there was nothing in the way he was looking at her that she hadn’t seen in the smiles he gave his sister, his mother, or any of the small handful of people he really cared about, and she ignored the tiny pang of disappointment at the thought.

She tilted her head towards the drifts of paper around him. “So what’s keeping you up tonight?” she asked. “Have you got an assignment giving you a hard time?”

He gave the abandoned instrument on his other side a rueful look. “I’m supposed to be practising for my world music performance assessment in November, but I keep getting distracted. I’ve missed writing music for so long, it’s hard to ignore the inspiration when it happens.”

“That’s some pretty powerful inspiration,” she teased him.

“Yeah,” he said, setting his hands on the strings of his guitar again, and picking out a soft, slow run of notes. “It’s pretty irresistible.”

He dipped his head over his guitar. The fall of his hair hid his eyes for a moment, but the light of the lamp cast a warm heat across his cheekbones that almost looked like a blush.

“This is a side of you that I haven’t seen before,” Marinette said without thinking, and he raised his head to give her a look of mild curiosity. She ploughed on, “I mean, I knew you were talented, I love listening to you when you play or sing, but I’ve never seen you so…”

“So?” he prompted gently when she trailed off.

“In your element. It’s really –“ hot, a suggestive little voice in her mind provided, and she tried to ignore it “- good to see.”

His mouth quirked up. “Now you know how I feel, watching you in action.” His fingers plucked out a fragment of a tune that Marinette had never heard before.

“All of the warp and the weft the world sends her, she gathers them into her hands,” he sang softly, “and sees something beautiful, sews something beautiful, out of whatever the world sends her way…”

Luka glanced up from his guitar, and there was something intense in those deep blue eyes, dark as the ocean, focused on her.

This was…

…oh.

Surely there was no mistaking that look in his eyes.

A profound thrill shivered through her. Marinette could feel the heat rising through her, leaving every inch of her burning and tingling, and there was an electric moment when it felt like he might finally lean in, close that distance, and kiss her.

Marinette’s breath caught at the thought.

The moment broke with the soft sound. Luka shifted, putting aside his guitar. He got to his feet, and stretched.

“Is it too late for a coffee?” he asked, and Marinette blinked. “I think I need some more caffeine.”

~~~~~

The soft, startled intake of her breath brought Luka back to the moment, and Marinette staring up at him through the dark fringe of her lashes, her beautiful blue eyes wide and overwhelmed.

Luka set aside his guitar and stood up, saying something as casually as he could manage about getting coffee, to give her some space.

There was a moment’s hesitation, then Marinette got up and followed him into the kitchen, and he knew a strong flash of relief that at least he hadn’t freaked her out too badly with the intensity of what he was feeling, and what had poured into that brief snatch of the song she’d inspired. Jules had always said he could be a little much when the muse took hold of him.

She watched while he started the kettle and got a couple of mugs out. “You’re going to be up all night,” she told him.

“Yeah, I don’t think sleep is on the cards tonight,” he said ruefully, and he glanced down at Marinette, hoping his face didn’t give away the heat and want flooding through him. “Did you want anything? Assuming you’re not over hot drinks by now,” he joked gently.

“I’d better stick to a decaf, if you’re offering. And it was tea, not coffee,” she pointed out. “Coffee stains would have been easier to get out.”

“Really? Interesting – I would have thought that tea stained less.”

She was shaking her head authoritatively, the intense moment between them dissipating under the kitchen light. “More mess to start with, but the tannin marks are worse. I’ve had a lot of experience with spilling stuff on myself.” The air of exasperation that went with that statement was adorable, and Luka hid a smile.

He dropped a scoop of ground beans into the filter pot and poured the boiling water over it, and then turned to get the rarely used jar of decaf instant coffee out of the cupboard. Marinette giggled at the face he pulled as he put a spoonful of granules in her mug and topped it up from the kettle before handing it to her. The smell of brewing coffee filled the kitchen, and he leaned his forearms on the counter across from Marinette while he waited for his to be ready.

“Sounds like you should stick to drinking water, next time you’re on a date.”

“It wasn’t a date,” she repeated, her expression becoming a little disgruntled. “It was just coffee with an old school friend.”

“Where you didn’t drink any coffee,” he couldn’t help teasing her, happy to see the disgruntlement vanish as she pulled a face at him. Her eyes dropped to focus on the mug in her hands, and an odd little quirk caught the corner of her mouth.

“You’ve spoiled me for anyone else’s coffee,” she said without looking up. 

He didn’t dare hope that she meant it as anything more than a joke, but he couldn’t help the stupid grin that he hid behind his own mug. He raised it to take another swallow, and stopped, caught by a stray wisp of music.

There was something in that… He found his fingers tapping the cadence against the side of his mug, the riff that would go with them playing as clear as a bell in his mind, and he groped blindly for something to write them down.

Marinette must have understood the sudden mood that gripped him, because she silently pushed the shopping list towards him and handed him a pen. Luka scribbled down the random line of music in his head, the potential lyrics scrawled under the reminder to get eggs and milk that was already there, and Marinette giggled.

~~~~~

Marinette rinsed out her mug, and left Luka to his music. She knew, from her own experience, that he would be consumed by the creative fit that had overtaken him for the rest of the night, and she took her pyjamas into the bathroom to change and brush her teeth. He was still bent over the lyrics that he’d begun on their shopping list when she passed him on her way to bed, and she smiled to herself as she closed her bedroom door behind her.

In the darkness, she could hear the kwamis, the soft little snorts and noises that meant they were asleep, and she climbed into bed without turning the light on so she wouldn’t disturb them. Only Sass’ golden, slitted eyes gleamed in the shadows, watchful and awake.

“Sass?” she whispered, and those eyes turned her way.

“Yesss, Marinette?”

“Are you going to tell me who you were talking about this afternoon? I need to know if there’s a problem.” She couldn’t help feeling a little hurt, couldn’t help the small mutter that slipped out, “I thought you could trust me.”

There was a long silence, as if Sass was weighing his words, then he said quietly, “You are our Guardian, our Ladybug, and our friend… but you know, better than mossst, that sssome sssecrets are not oursss to tell.”

There was an even longer silence, and Marinette stared up into the dark shadows of her ceiling.

“What I will sssay,” came the soft hiss in the gloom, “isss that you are a truly inssspiring Ladybug, but never forget that Ladybug iss jusst a pale reflection of who Marinette isss.”

Sass’ observation seemed completely off the subject, but Marinette knew the snake kwami well enough to know that in his own way, he was answering the question she’d asked. She frowned as she tried to puzzle out his meaning through a growing fog of exhaustion.

“Trussst your insstinctsss… and trussst in thossse friendsss who make you more Marinette, not lessss.”

Marinette found herself turning her head to glance at the dark form of the mannequin with Luka’s half-finished coat pinned to it. The beading on it caught a stray hint of street light through a gap in the curtains, and gleamed like a smile in deep blue eyes.

“Funny,” she murmured drowsily. “Luka said something like that the other day - asked me if I’d really want to love someone who would want me to be less.”

There was a quiet, sibilant chuckle in the darkness. “I alwaysss sssaid your musssician wass a wissse sssoul.”

Her musician. Oh, she wanted him to be.

And maybe, just maybe… if she hadn’t read too much into that moment on the couch… maybe he wanted that too.

“Sssleep, missstressss,” the soft voice whispered. “We will not let you ssstand alone again, I ssswear it. Sssleep now, and dream sssweet dreamsss.”

~~~~~

“So, it turns out Marinette’s still a complete space case around Adrien,” Alya said in fond exasperation, and she finally had Lila’s full attention. She’d been starting to think that Lila wasn’t listening to a word she was saying, and the way Lila was tapping her fingernails on the tabletop was getting a bit annoying.

“What happened?” Lila asked, pausing her persistent tapping for a moment, and Alya filled her in on Marinette’s coffee date with Adrien.

“Although she swears it wasn’t a date,” Alya added, with an amused roll of her eyes. “And then, of course, she ended up with tea all over her, and had to leave early, but at least that worked in her favour for once – she was so distracted, she ended up leaving her sketchbook behind, and Adrien picked it up for her. So she’s meeting up with him again today to get it back.”

“Clever,” Lila murmured, in an odd, flat tone.

Alya snorted at that. “Oh, come on, romantic scheming has never been one of Marinette’s strong points, you know that.”

“She always did have a thing for celebrities,” Lila said a little sourly, almost as if she’d forgotten that Alya was there, and started to drum her nails on the table again.

“She always had a thing for Adrien,” Alya snapped back, her hands going to her hips. It was one thing when she teased Marinette about falling for famous hot guys, but Lila didn’t quite sound like she was joking. “What’s with you, Lila? You’re not upset about Marinette and Adrien, are you? I mean, you were the one who broke it off when you were dating Adrien, and that was years ago.”

There was a long pause, broken only by the irritating sound of Lila’s nails.

“No, Marinette and Adrien deserve each other,” Lila said, still with that sour note in her voice, but then she met Alya’s frown and gave her a wide smile. Alya beamed back in relief.

She should have known that Lila wouldn’t be so petty as to begrudge Marinette a chance at happiness with Adrien. And, after all, it had to be a little weird for her, after the way she’d said Gabriel Agreste had fired her as his model and blacklisted her when she’d broken up with Adrien.

Lila stopped drumming her nails. Her smile grew wider. “Of course, they’re perfect for each other, much more than someone like Luke Stone.”

And of course, they were. An up and coming talented young fashion designer, and a supermodel whose father was the founder of one of Paris’ most prestigious fashion houses? They were made for each other.

“We should go get her for a girls’ night out tonight,” Lila was saying. “Find out how things went with Adrien. She lives near here, doesn’t she?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Alya vetoed firmly. “She’s not exactly your biggest fan, and things didn’t go well at the bar the other night – you know how stubborn Mari can be sometimes.” She made a sympathetic face, but Lila was frowning into space and didn’t seem to notice. “And anyway, I promised her I wouldn’t interfere in her love life.”

“So you’re just going to let her throw away her second chance with Adrien and get sucked in by someone like Luke Stone?”

Alya could understand Lila’s frustration, but she knew Marinette best.

“I think we just need to let Marinette see it for herself at this point. And maybe Luka’s not as bad as all that.”

Luka’s air of mild amusement might irritate Alya, and all the more so because she had the deep-seated feeling that he was amused by her, but she was big enough to admit that he’d been a perfect gentleman to Marinette since they’d moved in together.  

“Those tabloid reports can’t all be true,” Alya told Lila, “and maybe he’s settled down since you knew him.” Maybe Marinette had settled him down. He certainly looked at her as if he was completely besotted.

Judging by the way Lila pursed her lips, she didn’t agree, but Alya knew this was for the best.

“Besides,” Alya went on, thinking of how keen Adrien had sounded when he’d asked her for Marinette’s phone number, and a touch of smugness crept into her voice, “I don’t think we’re going to have to do anything.”

#lukanette #pro lukamari #living arrangements #ml au #miraculous ladybug #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #and they were roommates #they're idiots your honor #bring on the drama!

[hood-ex]

where’s everyone living now??

Bruce and Damian are in the brownstone in the city. Dick's at Titans Tower (and so is Babs sometimes). Jason idk. Tim had his houseboat but now idk. Steph and Cass on the top floor of a building in the Hills (unless they've made a move since Batgirls that I'm unaware of).

#batfam #living arrangements #anon

[that-gay-jedi]

For all that I love living alone because of the peace and quiet and never having to worry abt whether a roommate is gonna be trustworthy etc, when I'm totally overcome with The Weakness(tm) from one of my illnesses I direly wish there were someone around to refill my water bottle, turn off the lights and bring me a blanket/sweater or adjust the thermostat. My cat is a great comfort, but she doesn't have opposable thumbs.

I can very suddenly go from simply tired to a state wherein no matter how uncomfortable I am or how important a task, I can't move. I hope I would be able to crawl across the floor if the building were on fire, but I pray to the gods that I never have to find out. Knowing that if that happened there'd be someone else to grab my cat and either help me drag myself out or tell the first responders about my sorry ass would take a weight off my mind.

Truthfully, I don't even think most humans are for lack of a better word "supposed" to live alone. We're a hypersocial species adapted to live in mutually caring communities where people allow each other enough autonomy and space that we aren't desperate to escape, with vast formal or informal support networks wherein everyone's contributions are valued and everyone's needs are seen as simply a part of life instead of some kind of moral failing.

But I don't have that kind of community and so far, total solitude has been preferable to the family and roommates I've had. Out of the choices available to me, I'd rather sometimes have to crumple up on my couch feeling thirsty and cold and unable to fully shut the light out of my eyes than deal with people who are violent or exploitative or who don't believe my limitations are real etc etc.

#disability #chronic fatigue #fibromyalgia #interdependence #interpersonal relationships #episodic chronic illness #chronic pain #housing #living arrangements #health #human relationships #community

[haggishlyhagging]

That "nearly all married couples now maintain their own household" seems such a banal statement that one wonders why Glick and Parke even thought it worth mentioning. Of course they do. The individual household for every married couple is the final outcome of a long history. We can now write finis on that trend. Mission accomplished.

But is a household of their own for every married couple really to be taken so much for granted? Even if it is today, is it to be the wave of the future? Should it be? Or is it now an anachronistic hangover from the past, a vestigial survival no longer suitable, remaining only because we don't know how to get rid of it? Is the isolated household that demands so much of so many women really desirable? In view of the pathogenic effect of housekeeping on wives, some married couples are beginning to question whether it is desirable.

Except for demographers, we hardly speak of households any more; we speak instead of "life styles." But whatever we have in mind, and whatever the term we use to describe it, the facts it refers to are the least glamorous imaginable, as unrelated to love and romance as anything could be. And one of the most shocking discontinuities in the lives of young lovers, male as well as female, occurs with the discovery that human beings have to be fed, kept clean, provided with sleeping quarters and sanitary facilities, and all the other humble services that daily living demands and that are taken for granted. What do all these practical problems have to do with this marvelous relationship between us? they say. All too much, alas, they soon learn. For marriages do not operate in a vacuum; they have to be lodged somewhere or other. Meals do not just automatically and by themselves appear on the table three times a day; clean sheets and towels do not grow in the linen chest; dishes do not wash themselves nor does dust independently disappear.

A great deal of thinking about the future of marriage centers as much on the kind of facility to house it in as on the nature of the commitment itself, and rightly so, for the two are intimately intertwined. It makes a great deal of difference in the relationship if its locale is a private home or an open, freewheeling commune. Most marriages are embedded in a household; the history of one reflects the history of the other; the future of one is part of the future of the other. "Life styles"—living arrangements—are as relevant for the future of marriage as "sex styles"—forms of sexual relationships.

-Jessie Bernard, The Future of Marriage

#jessie bernard #love and marriage #housekeeping #living arrangements #nuclear family

[projectbluearcadia]

Only Your Bed

Annelie: So... Lucifer... 

Lucifer: I don’t like it any more than you do. 

Annelie: No, but why?

Lucifer: It’s just for one night. The House of Lamentation is hexed right now on account of my brothers, meaning it’s dangerous for you to sleep in the room you’re meant to sleep in. 

Annelie: What about your brothers?

Lucifer: Right now, I don’t care. The hex can turn them all to icicles for the time being; it won’t kill them, unlike you. 

Annelie: Okay, but why is it just your room that isn’t hexed?

Lucifer points at his fireplace. 

Annelie: For a freezing hex???

Lucifer: Ancient hexes like this one often have strange loopholes. I seem to recall a rather bizarre one that prevented demons from tasting anything until a particular food was consumed.  

Annelie: The more you know... So do you have any more pillows?

Lucifer: Why would I need more pillows?

Annelie: So I don’t have to break my back on the floor?

Lucifer: What are you talking about? You’re sleeping in the bed. 

Annelie: What?

Lucifer: Are you hard of hearing?

Annelie: No, but... I get to sleep? On that? 

Lucifer: You sound... oddly excited about a bed. 

Annelie: What are you talking about? That’s a dream castle! Like the dim lighting and the gentle crackle of the fire, combined with those plush charcoal sheets would send me straight to dreamland! You have no idea where I’ve been sleeping these past few weeks!

Lucifer: ...just where have you been sleeping?

Annelie: Oh, you know... crammed inside closets... under desks... wherever I was sure I wouldn’t be found by some demon that wanted to eat me. But I’ve never slept in a place like this in the human world either. I will savor this night, and I will sleep like a rock!

Lucifer: Suit yourself. 

Annelie: Ah, sorry, I guess you’re not the most comfortable about sharing. I promise not to hit you in my sleep. 

Lucifer: You won’t need to worry about that, since I’m not sleeping in the bed. 

Annelie: Why? I don’t bite as much as you. It’s a big bed. 

Lucifer: Let me rephrase. I’m not sleeping. 

Annelie: Eh? But I thought you had a long day... you don’t want to rest?

Lucifer: ...

Annelie: I’ll take the floor after all then. 

Lucifer: Absolutely not. 

Annelie: Floor. 

Lucifer: Annelie, I don’t care for disobedience. You will sleep in that bed. 

That was an interesting shudder down my spine. 

Annelie: And what are you going to do if I don’t listen? I’ll sleep in the bed if you sleep in the bed, end of story. Prove you haven’t trapped it. 

Lucifer: Why should I have to prove something to you?

Annelie: Because I’m your guest. 

Lucifer: Why are you so insistent?

Annelie: Because you look tired, and it detracts from your appearance. 

Although the tired look makes you look less intimidating. Maybe a little more irritable though.

Lucifer: ...

Annelie’s stomach quietly growls. 

Lucifer: Pftt haha. 

Annelie: What, never heard a stomach before?

Lucifer: You’re arguing with me about sleeping on a bed when you’re hungry. 

Annelie: If you’re thinking about withholding food from me to make me shut up, it’s not going to work. 

Although I am really hungry and haven’t had a decent meal since I came to the Devildom...

Lucifer: Are you sure about that?

Annelie: You can get rid of the smug, smartass. I’ve gone days without food already. 

Lucifer: Understood. 

Ah, I hate my stubborn personality. 

Annelie: All this just because you don’t want to share a bed with a human. You’re immature. 

Annelie plops down onto the floor and curls into a ball. Moments later, Lucifer lifts her up and puts her on the bed. 

Lucifer: Stay put. 

Annelie: No.

Annelie tries to get up, only for Lucifer to pin her down. 

Lucifer: What happened? Where did all of that defiance go? Haha. 

Annelie: You’re freaking strong. Also heavy. 

Lucifer: Well, you were dying to get in bed with me, so are you happy that you got what you wanted?

Annelie: God, I wish I could grab you and just slam you on your back. 

Lucifer: Hah. Keep wishing.

Annelie: I’m wishing. 

Suddenly, Annelie locks hold of one of Lucifer’s legs with hers and starts fighting him in earnest, and after getting a hand free, she manages to gain enough leverage to flip him onto his back. She slams his hands over his head with all of her weight. Lucifer seems surprised. 

Annelie: Haaah. Haaah. Fuck that was hard. You let me do that, didn’t you? 

Lucifer: ...I was a little curious. 

Annelie: Dammit. 

Lucifer: I’m a bit impressed nonetheless. 

Annelie: Still can’t protect myself from you though.

She lets go of his hands. 

Annelie: Phew. Your hands are big too. Fine. You win. I sleep on the bed. You don’t sleep. Suit yourself. 

Lucifer: Do you plan on getting off me?

Annelie: Hm? Ah... 

She shuffles off his waist, and Lucifer sits up as she cracks her knuckles. 

Lucifer: Is that supposed to intimidate me?

Annelie: ?

Lucifer: Nevermind. In any case, you are to stay in this room unless accompanied by me. Unless, of course, you want to freeze to death. 

Annelie: I’d be more concerned that I’ll steal your room from you. Especially considering this bed is actually softer than I expected. Aaah... paradise. 

Annelie flops back onto the bed and stretches. Lucifer shakes his head and leaves her to sleep. 

#obey me lucifer #obey me! #obey me shall we date #self indulgence #sleep argument #awkward #living arrangements #fanfiction #writing #LuciAnne

[rudolphsb9]

I have saved a fanart of 47 with his bun and his birb sitting on a mattress staring out the window at the rain and I think this may have inspired the apartment layout in my old fics Quiescence and Longing and Arrival, and I'm definitely cribbing THAT setup for my current Hitman fic with a long-ass working title.

#hitman: agent 47 #agent 47 #dr. litvenko #living arrangements #katia van dees #john smith

[yumark-ism]

i rmb you talking a lot about august 2021 tension between yumark, that is when 127 moved out the old dorm. i really think yuta moving out was one of the reasons for the sudden tension

yes, a big factor that functioned as a catalyst to mark realising he has to do something, stop playing around as he felt he might be losing yuta. it also shows yuta's commitment and perseverance, he waited for mark, gave them space but still waited patiently. from september to november 2021 yuta was very loved up with mark, in a subtler but somehow more intense way.

#ask #2021ym #living arrangements

[dignitygrouphomellc]

Recognizing when to consider residential living for family members with Intellectual and Developmental Disabilities (IDD) involves paying attention to several key indicators. If this is something you want to delve further into, DIGNITY GROUP HOME, LLC, people’s primary choice for residential services in Virginia, is here to arm you with the correct information!

#Comprehensive Support #Homecare Professional #Living Arrangements

[stanfordfinancial]

Financial Navigation Unveiled: Charting Success with Stanford's Tailored Solutions

In the intricate world of finance, finding a partner who understands your unique needs is paramount. Welcome to a comprehensive exploration of Stanford Financial Solutions—an institution dedicated to guiding you through the labyrinth of financial management. In this blog post, we'll delve into the array of services and expertise offered by Stanford Financial, providing insights into how this institution can be your compass on the journey to financial excellence.

**1. Stanford Financial: A Trusted Beacon in Financial Services:

Embark on our journey by understanding the foundations of Stanford Financial. Learn about the institution's history, values, and commitment to providing top-notch financial services. Explore how their reputation as a trusted beacon in the financial industry sets them apart.

**2. Comprehensive Financial Planning: Crafting Your Financial Blueprint:

Stanford Financial goes beyond mere transactions; they specialize in comprehensive financial planning. Discover the process of crafting a personalized financial blueprint that aligns with your goals, whether it's wealth accumulation, retirement planning, or investment strategies.

**3. Investment Strategies Tailored to Your Vision:

Investing wisely is key to financial success. Stanford Financial tailors investment strategies to your unique vision and risk tolerance. Explore the various investment avenues they navigate, from stocks and bonds to alternative investments, ensuring a diversified and resilient portfolio.

**4. Retirement Planning: Nurturing Your Golden Years:

As retirement approaches, meticulous planning becomes crucial. Stanford Financial understands the nuances of retirement planning, offering insights into 401(k)s, IRAs, pension plans, and other retirement vehicles. Learn how they navigate the complexities to secure your financial comfort during your golden years.

**5. Estate Planning: Preserving Your Legacy with Precision:

Preserving your legacy requires careful consideration. Stanford Financial excels in estate planning, guiding you through the intricacies of wills, trusts, and wealth transfer strategies. Explore how they help you create a lasting impact on future generations.

**6. Risk Management: Safeguarding Your Financial Journey:

In a world of uncertainties, effective risk management is paramount. Stanford Financial assesses potential risks and designs strategies to safeguard your financial journey. From insurance solutions to emergency funds, understand how they create a safety net for your financial well-being.

**7. Tax Efficiency: Maximizing Returns through Strategic Planning:

Navigating the tax landscape is a crucial aspect of financial planning. Learn how Stanford Financial maximizes your returns through strategic tax planning. Explore deductions, credits, and other strategies designed to enhance your financial efficiency.

**8. Business Financial Services: Partnering for Corporate Success:

For businesses seeking financial prowess, Stanford Financial extends its expertise. Delve into their suite of business financial services, covering everything from financial analysis and strategic planning to employee benefit programs and succession planning.

**9. Client-Centric Approach: Your Success is Stanford's Success:

At the core of Stanford Financial is a client-centric approach. Discover how they prioritize your unique needs, fostering a relationship where your success becomes their success. Learn about their commitment to transparency, communication, and ongoing support.

**10. Educational Resources: Empowering Your Financial Literacy:

Stanford Financial believes in empowering clients with financial literacy. Explore the educational resources they provide, from workshops and seminars to insightful articles and market updates. Understand how they equip you with the knowledge to make informed financial decisions.

**11. Client Success Stories: Realizing Financial Dreams with Stanford:

To provide a personal touch, read real client success stories. Explore how individuals and businesses have realized their financial dreams with the guidance of Stanford Financial. These stories exemplify the tangible impact of their services on diverse financial journeys.

**12. Innovation in Financial Technology: Staying Ahead of the Curve:

In the rapidly evolving landscape of financial technology, Stanford Financial remains at the forefront. Explore their innovative approaches to leveraging technology, from online account management to cutting-edge financial planning tools.

**13. Community Engagement: Beyond Finances, Building a Better World:

Stanford Financial believes in giving back to the community. Learn about their initiatives and community engagement efforts, reflecting a commitment to not only financial prosperity but also to building a better world.

**14. Industry Recognition and Awards: A Testament to Excellence:

Discover the accolades and industry recognition that Stanford Financial has earned. These awards serve as a testament to their excellence in providing financial services and underscore their position as a leader in the financial industry.

**15. Choosing Stanford Financial: Your Partner in Financial Success:

As we conclude our deep dive, understand the key considerations when choosing Stanford Financial as your partner in financial success. From their values and services to the personal connection they establish, discover why they stand out in the realm of financial management.

Conclusion:

Stanford Financial isn't just a financial institution; it's a partner on your journey to financial excellence. From comprehensive planning and innovative technology to community engagement and client success stories, the institution exemplifies a commitment to your financial well-being. As you navigate the complexities of finance, let Stanford Financial be your trusted guide, illuminating the path to a prosperous financial future.

#ipswich lawyers #family lawyers ipswich #divorce lawyers ipswich #family dispute resolution ipswich #family mediation ipswich #living arrangements #parenting arrangements

[vintagehomecollection]

Elegance in Flowers: Classic Arrangements for All Seasons, 1985

#vintage #vintage interior #1980s #80s #interior design #living room #pedestal table #birdhouse #curtains #floral arrangement #flowers #bouquet

[mental-health-advice]

I currently live with my bf but I don’t think I love him anymore. Buy the thing is, I can’t leave. I have no where to go and don’t work due to my mental health. I feel stuck and I’m scared

Hey there,

This sounds like a really difficult position to be in.

On one hand you have somewhere to live but then the person you live with you no longer love. Is there a possibility that you can chat to your boyfriend about your current feelings and see how he feels about the relationship? Maybe you will find he feels similar but that you can still manage to live together somehow?

I am also not sure where in the world you live but is there anyway you can get disability support that helps with money and payments and stuff. I know that not every country has this but where I am in Australia, we have what’s called ‘Centrelink’ who provide payments for those eligible, so for me with my mental health and not being able to work due to my mental health I am eligible for payments and it also means I can get scripts for medications at a cheaper price as well, plus assistance for paying for my rent. Is this something you can look into for where you live for the off chance you do need to find your own place and need some assistance with this and the process of moving with adequate support afterwards as well?

In terms of feeling stuck, it’s important to know that there is always a way around everything, most of the time it just takes a lot of research and knowing what is out there in the community where you can access help and support!

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you and hope that you are going OK!

Take care,

Lauren   

#mha-lauren #advice #advice blog #mental health advice #anonymous #boyfriend #relationship #living arrangements #getting support

[mintaka14]

Chapter 8 of Living Arrangements (Lukanette And They Were Roommates! AU) is done. It's been a longer wait for it than I had anticipated, but I hope you enjoy it.

Living Arrangements

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter 8 – Music Again

There had been many moons before I met you

And I don’t know when (I last put paper to pen)

And now you give me back my raison d’etre

And I’m inspired again

[Music Again: Adam Lambert]

Luka flexed his hand against the frets of his guitar, stretching out his stiff fingers. He squinted down at the pages of manuscript and scribbled notes in front of him, and realised that the quality of light in the room had changed. The dark sky outside the windows had picked up a faint stain of rose and gold, lightening with the first hints of an autumn dawn.

As the creative rush wore off, Luka came back to an awareness of the room around him, and the way his back was aching from being hunched over his guitar for so long. He ran a hand through his hair and yawned hugely.

He leaned back, staring down at the scatter of pages all over the coffee table and the floor under it. They were thick with musical notation, and ideas for lyrics, that might develop into something, but one or two of them were�� something good.

Luka could hear the alarm go off in Marinette’s bedroom, followed by a thump and the flustered noises that meant Marinette had just woken up. He couldn’t help smiling, even as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Carefully, he set his guitar aside, pulling himself to his feet, and another stray manuscript page fluttered from his lap to the floor as he shuffled towards the kitchen.

By the time Marinette had emerged, yawning and rumpled, the kettle had boiled and the coffee just finished brewing.

“Coffee, Melody?” he asked her, and the nickname rolled off his tongue without a thought. He grinned as she stuck out both hands to take the mug he offered her. The grin morphed into another yawn.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Marinette scolded. “Luka!”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “And what time did you turn out your light?” he teased her back. “I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one on a creative kick.”

She glanced at the living room, and the pages he’d left strewn everywhere. “You were writing?” she asked, in a softer voice, and he shrugged self-consciously.

“Just… tinkering with something. So what was keeping you up last night? Working on your finals?”

He looked up to find Marinette’s eyes on him, her mouth parted a little. She jolted a little as their eyes met, and abruptly dropped her gaze. Behind her coffee mug, Marinette flushed pink.

“No, just… something I’ve been tinkering with,” she echoed his words.

Her eyes drifted back to the piles of music manuscript, and Luka waited for her to ask the questions that he could see chasing themselves across her transparent features. Instead, Marinette turned back to her mug. She buried her face in the steam, and took another sip of coffee. Luka couldn’t help the soft little chuckle at her heartfelt sigh.

“Well, hopefully, it was a productive night for you, too,” he said. “Sounds like you need that coffee this morning.”

“Thank goodness I don’t have any classes today,” Marinette mumbled into her mug. “I’m not sure I could stay awake.”

“What are you doing up, then?”

“Meeting Alya for early lunch at Café Calibré. I have to do a few things on the way, though, so…” she waved at her pyjamas and messy hair, and wrinkled her nose. “At least I’m used to running on three hours’ sleep and caffeine.”

“Not sure that’s a good thing,” he told her, as she finished her coffee. Marinette stared down at the empty dregs, and Luka’s smile grew at the mournful little sound she made.

“Want another one?” he offered, but she shook her head, and moved past him to wash her mug in the sink.

“I wish I could, but I’d better get going. If I can make it as far as the café, I’ll get another one then. Alya owes me at least that much.”

“Good luck,” he said, and she must have heard the hint of dry humour that he couldn’t quite keep out of his voice at the mention of Alya, because she turned and flashed him a mischievous grin over her shoulder before her bedroom door closed behind her.

~~~~~

The moment Marinette closed her bedroom door, an assortment of kwamis emerged from whatever corners they’d been hiding in. Some of them paused in their antics to regard her curiously, but Marinette’s attention was riveted on the half-finished coat for Luka that she had stayed up to work on until way later than she should have.

She was happy with the way the cut of the coat hinted at presence without flash, and the way she’d hopefully managed to give it an easy style without sacrificing comfort. The embellishment was exactly the subtle depth with a fluid movement and a hint of humour that she’d been trying for, but she frowned at the embroidered snakes twining down the face of the  coat. The whole design, she decided, was missing something. It needed something more intense, something like the heart of a blue flame…

“Marinette?” Tikki asked, drawing closer to hover beside her shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

“Luka’s… I think he’s writing music again,” she said absently, and Sass reared up from his nest near the window to eye her with interest.

… maybe those deep blue glass beads that she’d been saving for the right project, the ones that sparked like fire when the light caught them…

She could hear a soft little hiss of satisfaction from Sass, and one of the kwamis whispering, “But I don’t get it – he’s always playing music, isn’t he?”

“Luka is creating his own music again,” Tikki explained, and did a happy little spiral in mid-air. Creation always spoke to her, and a smile tugged at the corners of Marinette’s mouth in response, even as she subjected the coat to a measuring stare.

Her fingers twitched towards the jars of beads above her work table, but she curled them tightly against the impulse, and reached for her own clothes to change into instead. Luka’s coat could wait, but she needed to get moving if she wanted to run her errands and still make it to the café on time.

Dress and leggings went on quickly enough, but she gave up trying to get her hair to cooperate, and bundled it into two hasty pigtails, and then grabbed her handbag for Tikki to hide in.

“Be good,” she admonished the roomful of watching kwamis, without much hope that they would pay attention to her.

The living room was still covered in a snowfall of manuscript as she passed it, but there was no sign of Luka. His bedroom door was closed, though, and Marinette could only hope that he’d decided to get some sleep. The mug of coffee he’d made for her was definitely wearing off by the time she made it to the café where she and Alya usually met, and she spared a longing thought for her own bed as she pushed open the door.

She wasn’t late, but Alya was already waiting. Alya looked up impatiently from her phone as Marinette came into the cafe amid a flurry of jangling from the bell over the door.

“Girl, what’s been going on? I’ve been trying to get hold of you all week, and you didn’t even answer my texts,” she was saying before Marinette had even reached the table. “I wasn’t even sure you were going to turn up today.”

“I’ve been busy,” Marinette said, and leaned down to give her friend a quick hug, before she dropped into the seat opposite Alya. She’d started to answer Alya’s messages several times, and ended up overthinking every word until it had felt a little late to send anything at all. Here in person, though, Alya just swept past it all without a mention of their fight, and Marinette felt a little silly for putting off talking to her best friend. “Don’t you have finals coming up too?”

“That’s nearly two months away. There are much more important things to think about.” Alya leaned in, fixing Marinette with a triumphant eye. “Guess who called Nino last night?” she demanded.

“Oh my god, that producer he’s been trying to contact?”

Alya checked at that. “No, but this is almost as good. Adrien! And he’s coming back to Paris!”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Nice?” Alya stared at her as if she was waiting for something more, and then, when nothing was forthcoming, she said drily, “Yeah, it’ll be really nice to see him again. Nino’s planning to try and get everyone together for a sort of reunion or something.”

“That sounds good.”

Marinette was distracted when the waitress arrived with the coffee she desperately needed to stay awake. When she looked up, her friend was subjecting her to another speculative stare, but then the waitress slid the second cup and a plate of pastries in front of Alya.

“He asked about you,” Alya said, reaching for one of the croissants. She took a bite, and added casually, “So I gave him your phone number.”

Marinette almost spilled the coffee in her lap.

“Alya! You said you weren’t going to do that anymore.”

Alya raised an eyebrow at her over the remains of the pastry. “Do what?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“He’s an old school friend,” Alya said innocently, but the gleam in her eyes almost dared Marinette to contradict her. “I thought you said you’d been over him for years, so why would it be a big deal if he gets in touch with you?”

“Alya –“ Marinette groaned.

“It’s just catching up with an old school friend. Did you really want me to tell Adrien that you don’t want to see him, when he asked about you specifically?”

Marinette spent too long trying to process through the things she wanted to say, until eventually Alya leaned back with a  smug smirk.

“Fine, then, just tell him you don’t want to meet up when he calls,” she said with a shrug.

In spite of Alya’s insistence, Marinette wasn’t seriously expecting Adrien to actually call her, and two days later when her phone rang with an unfamiliar number she answered it without thinking.

“Marinette?” an oddly familiar voice said, and Marinette nearly dropped the phone.

The voice was a little deeper than she remembered, and different, too, to the way it sounded in the media soundbites, but it sent her straight back to her flustered, awkward collège years.

“Adrien?” she squeaked, and tried to cover up the embarrassing sound with a cough. There was a soft chuckle on the other end of the phone call.

“It’s been too long,” the voice said. “How have you been?”

~~~~~

Luka could hear Marinette and his sister in the living room as he pulled off his headphones and shoved aside the thesis he’d been working on. He got to his feet and went to join them, desperate for a break, and maybe a chance to get down the melody that had been teasing at the back of his mind for the past fifteen minutes. It was hard to focus on papers and exam prep when several years’ worth of unwritten music was flooding through his mind all at once.

He came into the living room to find Marinette in the middle of getting ready to go out, and Juleka watching her from the depths of an armchair with a look of judgement on her face.

“It’s not like I could tell him I didn’t want to see him,” Marinette was saying defensively. “What would you have said if he’d called you and said he wanted to meet up?”

Juleka scrunched up her face like she wanted to argue the point, but couldn’t without being hypocritical. He could still remember his little sister hiding behind her curtain of hair, shying away from conflict, growing up. She’d gotten better at holding her own, but confrontation was never going to be easy for her.

Unless it was him. Juleka had no problem with telling her big brother to shove off, and Luka took that as the gift of trust that it was.

It occurred to him, as he watched the girls bicker while Marinette located her bag and her sketchbook, that Juleka was quite happy to argue with Marinette, too.

“And you’re wearing your lucky shirt,” Juleka pointed out accusingly.

Marinette glanced down self-consciously at the delicate pink top she was wearing. “I’m meant to be a fashion designer here. I’m not going to turn up for coffee with the son of one of Paris’ top fashion houses in just any old thing. This blouse got me into the summer designers program last year,” Marinette shot back, her colour heightened.

“I can see why. It’s gorgeous,” Luka said from where he was leaning against the doorframe, and Marinette’s head jerked up at the sound of his voice. “You’re incredibly talented.”

She bit her lip at the compliment, but a pleased and proud little smile teased at the corners of her mouth.

“Is this for a job interview?” he asked, wondering about her reference to a fashion house.

“Just an old school friend,” Marinette said, but Luka could see the flush deepen on the curve of her cheek as she turned away and grabbed her keys from the bowl.

Juleka gave an inelegant snort.

“I’ve got to get going, otherwise I’m going to be late,” Marinette said, dropping her keys into her bag.

“Yeah, you don’t want to be late for Adrien,” Juleka muttered under her breath, and Luka shot his sister a warning glance as he bent to scoop up his guitar from where he’d left it beside the couch.

“Have fun,” he said mildly, and Marinette threw him a grateful, slightly embarrassed smile. He waited until the front door closed behind her before he asked his sister, “What was all that about?”

“Adrien’s back,” Juleka said sourly, and slumped lower in the armchair, “and practically the first thing he does is call Marinette. I’d bet my favourite camera that Alya had something to do with that.”

“I thought Alya had backed off on the matchmaking schemes.”

“Alya doesn’t just give up – she changes tactics.” She tilted her head, obviously subjecting that to some consideration, then added, “Although I don’t think even Alya could bring Adrien Agreste back to Paris just to get Marinette a date, but she’d be more than capable of taking advantage of it once he was here.”

“This is the model you used to go to school with, that Marinette liked? He’s back in Paris?” Luka said slowly, as he tuned his guitar and let his fingers wander idly over the strings.

“She says they’re just catching up for a coffee,” Juleka said, her voice as dry as sand.

“Then that’s what she’s doing,” Luka said without looking up. He drifted into the melody that had been distracting him. The stark chords weren’t quite right, but modulated into a descending minor seventh… he tried it again, testing the feel of it.

Juleka eyed him. “You are such a dumbass.”

He could have pretended he didn’t know what she was talking about, but it felt like an argument he didn’t want to have. Instead, he focused on his fingering.

Juleka stayed in her armchair, listening to him for a while, and then said abruptly, “So, Dad’s been calling you again?”

Luka grimaced at her choice of subject change, but kept playing.

“He’s been trying to get me back into the studio. He’s got some new idea, and wants to get me involved.”

“Well, I wish you’d answer your messages, because he’s calling me now,” Juleka said sourly, and Luka sighed.

“I love Jay, I really do, but –“

“I know.”

“I’ll talk to Penny.”

“I don’t think Penny knows about this. I suspect she wouldn’t be too happy about it.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “Does he know that you’re writing again?”

“No, and he’s not going to.”

He kept tinkering with the tune he was hearing in his head. There was another long, pointed silence from his sister until eventually, with a heavy sigh, she levered herself out of the armchair.

“Have fun wallowing,” she told him.

Luka ignored her until she’d disappeared up the stairs, and he frowned at the minor fifth he’d just played. He modulated it into a major, and tried again, but the upbeat key was jarring. It needed… damn.

Juleka was right.

~~~~~

When the sound of Rose’s video call chimed, Juleka was busy screaming into her pillow.

“Jules?” Rose’s voice was muffled by the padding over Juleka’s face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she grumbled, and pulled the pillow down. “My brother’s just an idiot.”

Rose laughed and cast her eyes up. “Well, yes, but you love him anyway. What’s he done now?”

“He’s downstairs writing sad music because Marinette’s having coffee with Adrien Agreste, and I swear, if he tells me one more time he’s happy for her I’m going to –“ she broke off, unable to think of anything dire enough for the moment. The camera swooped at the other end of the call, and when Rose righted it again, her blue eyes were wide with barely suppressed reaction.

“Adrien’s back? Wait… did you say writing music?”

“Yes, and yes,” Juleka confirmed, slumping down in her desk chair. “My life is hell.”

“I… don’t even know where to start,” Rose squeaked, and Juleka heaved a put-upon sigh as her girlfriend vibrated on the spot. It almost looked like the screen was blurring, then the image steadied and Rose scooted closer, until her face filled the screen.

“Tell me everything,” she demanded.

#lukanette #pro lukamari #and they were roommates #living arrangements #ml au #they're idiots your honor

[tryst-art-archive]

Context: 2012, pt. 1

This particular year is what you might call A Big Oof.

It's going to be fairly lengthy, so we'll split it up across kind of a lot of posts.

New Living Arrangements

This will sound like starting in the middle, but I think it contextualizes the rest in a more orderly way.

In September of 2012, CatHaus (the 7-person apartment I'd been in) parted ways, and I moved in with my bestie, his partner, and one of his partner's close friends. The new digs werw a technically smaller, one-floor apartment that we had more leeway to modify because it was a bit of a train wreck. The pipes weren't in the walls, the insulation was horse hair, and there was a shower stall trapped in the back stairwell that led down to the single washer/dryer shared across the building.

I loved this apartment. I spent four or five years there, which is the longest I've lived in a single place since moving out of my parents' house for college.

I was initially trepidatious about this move. My bestie and his partner had been together for around a year at the point that we were making decisions about housing. (Boston operates on a September 1st lease cycle, for the most part, but you generally need to lock in your housing by March if you're on that schedule.)

I wasn't really convinced that their relationship would last, not because of anything about them but because neither my bestie nor I had gotten a romantic relationship past the two year mark; indeed, my bestie had only had one partner, a friends with benefits (me), and a couple of passing flings prior to dating his current partner. From a collegiate perspective, it was more reasonable to assume that they would split than that they would last. Additionally, many of our mutual friends were quite convinced that the relationship was doomed to failure because my bestie had changed greatly since it started.

Unbeknownst to any of us at the time, this change was because he had been emotionally abused in the prior relationship and he was now becoming himself again. "Himself," however, was a version of him that few, if any, of them had ever met.

I signed on to the lease despite my misgivings. I didn't want to live apart from my bestie, and it wasn't like I had a better idea. Moreover, my bestie's partner (by now we were friends, too) and the other lingering roommate were more or less pushing a third roommate out of their apartment in order to make space for me. It's sort of hard to turn down that kind of determination.

The arrangement worked out, though, and the four of us grew very close. The fourth roommate, whom we'll call Tiger, worked in game dev and would ultimately be an inroad to that industry for me, in addition to being a good friend. My bestie, whom we'll call Deer from here, and I's relationship improved as we cohabitated in a smaller group, and my bestie's partner, whom we'll call Coyote, and I simply grew closer as time went on. (If you're wondering, I was Fox in this animal-based arrangement.)

I think we basically all spoke the same, semi-nonverbal language and had similar thoughts running around in our heads. We were able to be weird with each other in a way that wasn't about being in art school or having less-than-mainstream interests but which was about what we called our animal-ness. In hindsight, it's likely that we shared varying forms of neurodivergence that happened to communicate similarly and play nicely together when combined.

Whatever it was, there's something truly liberating about being able to make weird, non-words noises and be understood intuitively. We were a collective of weird creatures, and we were a family.

#context #info #me #living arrangements #apartments #college #10s #2012 #Age 21

[beautifulscreaminglady]

#adulthood #living arrangements #polls #a beautifulscreaminglady original poll

[b4kuch1n]

study of this masterwork

#wayneradiotv #rtvs #sonic the hedgehog #after '''''typesetting'''''''' this thing I almost forgot how to spell hedgehog #the caption is fully unironic btw this is for educational purpose. its very fun to draft a comic from an existing ''thumbnail'' it turns ou #but also I just love comics dude. I just love sequential art its so cool to see how anyone arranges things in their own comic #like. wayne's sprite on top of the ''what!!'' speech bubble. really fucking good #little bit sad I couldnt catch the streams live even tho they did run in my timezone... bc Im bad at sleepin #but! Im gonna try and set an alarm this weekend. wanna hang out for a bit #also yeah all dialogue in this is accurate to the original. no use fixing whats perfect as they say #debated printing this out and scuffing the paper with eraser and then re-scan it. for authenticity. but Im tired and dinner soon so #sorry cosme my friend cosme I couldnt commit. I couldnt do it.... #anyways yeah. I dinner now #have a good day lads! what u see truly is what u get

[notedchampagne]

id render YOU in any universe

aus in order from top left to bottom right: we have always lived in the apartment by quinn @thatneoncrisis | harrow nova | gehenna the first also by quinn | arranged marriage au | canon

#quinn owns like half these aus we split custody often #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #griddlehark #dudele #harrow nova #gehenna the first #we have always lived in the apartment #two weddings and a funeral #<=== thats the name of the arranged marriage au. i have info on it but its not organized yet enough to share sorry #tlt