#anyways. clarified that she doesn’t hate me. my communication skills are great actually because if I’m mad at u

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

Called up my coworker yesterday with the promise of Drama and ended up telling her that I was telling other people she doesn’t love me anymore

[unforth]

A few days back I read this post in which you explained how you found out your daughter's gender and I just wanted to express to you how amazing it is that you listened to her.

I keep hearing people talking about how it's wrong to let children "decide what gender they want to be" (.........) because they are "too young to really understand what they're saying" (again, .........) so it's nice to see that someone actually LISTENS. Kids need adults, especially their parents, to listen to them when they are telling them who they are.

So thank you for listening and for stressing how important this is!

❤❤❤

For us as a couple it was a no brainer. We're both queer (we’re two married cis women) and we have a lot of genderqueer friends. All the evidence and research on children this young is that they understand gender as early as 2 and can know they’re not cis at that point (the little was about 26 months when she told us, and is 2 3/4 now) and that the best thing we can do as parents is to affirm her. We did have concerns about how some of our family might react and for the most part things went okay but we did have one big conflict with my MIL which has resulted in us seeing her much less, and she's not allowed to be alone with the kids. Her reaction to, "so the little told us she’s a girl...so she’s a girl," was, "at that age my brother thought he was a school bus." (To emulate you... ................) She also blamed me for dressing 'him' that way - "who picks out the little's clothes?” (she knew I did the clothes shopping) “Dressing that way doesn't make the little a girl!" which was the stupidest fucking thing to say...like...the little herself picked out those clothes when I took her thrift storing with me. I just bought what she liked. I literally have a picture of her hoarding two dresses and a skirt that she’d picked out, hugging them to her face while she sat in the cart, from a few months before she told us. She would pitch fits when she’d find something she’d like and I’d be like...little you’re a size 2t and that’s a size 7, we’re not buying it cause it won’t fit you...and she dressed in tutus and dresses for almost six months before she learned how to talk enough to share the gender thing...and we still called her by her birth gender because obviously wearing dresses doesn't make someone a girl. Hell we have lots of pictures of our older kid in a dress when he was that little (I bought like a year+ worth of clothes at thrift shops before I knew the gender of the kid I was pregnant with, since we didn’t find out ‘til he was born), and he never said he was a girl and is at the age of almost 5 very confident he's a boy (so much so that he doesn't want to do "things that girls do" except like his rubrics for deciding what are girl things are hilarious he went on this whole spiel about how Glitter Force is a girl show...while he was watching the Equestria HS spin off of MLP...and asking for sparkles on top of his blue nail polish please...anyway tangent sorry.)

What "made" the little a girl was that *she told us she's a girl* like I can't fathom why people think this is complicated? It’s not like she magically transformed one day, she was always a girl, she just couldn’t tell us. No one knows her better than she knows herself. I'm positive she knew all along, her language skills just hadn't developed enough to communicate. After she was able to tell us, and we started using the right pronouns, her behavior improved a lot. The most memorable thing - a few days after she told us she and I were sitting in the master bedroom while my wife was taking her meds. She did something cute, and I said, “awww, my sweet girl!” and she just lit up, “yes, girl!” So I asked her “does it make you happy when I call you a girl?” and she said, “yes, was sad.” (remember, she’s barely over two when this happened, so, like, not so much on sentences) and so I clarified, “you were sad before?” and she nodded and said, “yes...now happy!” 

It was mindblowing. She was so clear about how she felt and what she wanted. I can’t believe anyone, even my MIL, could have heard that conversation and not recognized that this child knew who she was. (I wrote the conversation down, for obvious reasons...we did show it to my MIL, and, well...sigh). My wife told me that she also started telling a lot of stories at bedtime about her stuffed toys feeling broken, but starting to feel better now... (my wife does the little’s bedtime, I do the big’s.)

Other than pronouns and gender id she's the same kid she's always been, her favorite colors are pink and purple, she loves dresses and skirts and rainbows (and Glitter Force, lol) and also loves trains and stuff...because she's a *kid* ffs. And if at some point she does come think this is the wrong thing for her, no harm done, we'll listen. By listening now, we've proven that. She knows she can trust us, and we'll support her and encourage her. I really don't see a losing side to this.

I saw a theory that what freaks people out is they think we're gonna give, like, hormones to a two year old? Which of course not. But if she still feels this way in a decade or so of course medical intervention will start to be a topic...but by then she'll have felt this way for years so what's the problem? It’d be cruel to force her, a girl, to go through male puberty, and anyone thinks that an eleven or twelve year old doesn’t understand enough to make that decision has never met an eleven or twelve year old, like, ever.

I can only assume that the adults like you mention can't remember what it felt like to be a kid. By the time I was the age my big is my parents had gotten divorced and I thought I was a very big, mature girl, and if anyone had tried to dismiss me the way I see many adults dismiss kids I would have been livid. I guess I was lucky, the adults in my life mostly took me seriously (and now those same adults - my parents - have been great toward the little, especially my mom, which proves its not an age or race thing since my dad is a 79 year old straight white god fearing literally runs his church's services once a month dude, and my step mom and mom are both 76 and also white, and they've all been super accepting.) To me it seems stupidly obvious, like...my kids may not know some stuff but they know themselves and I learn more just by listening to them than I'd ever figure out on my own.

My job as their mom is to help them figure out who they are, not force them to be who I think they should be. And I hate that more parents aren't like that, sigh, but I think more are now than ever before, and things will slowly but surely get better. I have to believe that...

(Sorry this got long, by necessity I've thought about this a lot...we're very lucky, family, friends and community the only person who got really weird on us was my MIL, and even she really is trying now...)

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Late to the Jabberwocky Chapter Eleven

Late to the Jabberwocky Chapter Eleven: Reunion

(Yes, I’m aware that this looks suspiciously similar to what I just posted as Chapter Thirty-Six of Daisy. This is the extended version with the Lukadrien content and the actual Luka-Adrien reunion.)

His driver Victor scowled. “You want me to take you where, Adrianka?”

Adrien’s Russian really wasn’t the best, so it was conceivable that he had just said something unintelligible. He took a deep breath and slowly repeated, “To the Couffaines’ house? Uh…the family that lives on the boat?”

The cavernous trenches of Victor’s forehead seemed to deepen, if that were truly possible. “Couffaine? That’s that—” A word in Russian that Adrien didn’t know, but it sounded angry and guttural and was mostly likely not a nice thing to be called. “—who made you cry for half a year,” Victor accused.

Adrien winced, switching back to French. “To be fair, Luka wasn’t the one who made me cry. That was my father when he threatened to ruin my friend and his entire family’s lives and careers and make Luka hate me unless I ceased all communication with him. It wasn’t Luka’s fault.”

Victor did not acknowledge Adrien’s clarification. Instead, his meat cleaver-sized hands went to his hips, and he tipped his head to the side with a suspicious frown. “Isn’t he dating little Masha from the bakery now?”

Adrien tried to smile disarmingly as he nodded, but it came out as more of a wounded grimace. “Yes. Yes, Luka and Marinette are dating.”

“And what business do you have going to see the young man dating the girl you like?”

“I was planning on seeing if he wanted to be friends again now that my father is less strict,” Adrien explained feebly.

Victor continued on in Russian. “Your father? Does your father know where you are going?”

“I told him,” Adrien fibbed, switching back to Russian so that if he were found out later, he could blame his inaccuracy on a “misunderstanding” caused by his poor language skills.

Victor leaned forward, bending at the waist to position himself eye to eye with Adrien. He arched an eyebrow. “Oh? You told him where you were going? So, if I go ask him now, he will tell me he has approved your trip to visit the Couffaine boy who broke your heart?”

“Yes,” Adrien insisted, banking on the fact that Victor would never actually go interrupt Gabriel’s work to follow up on Adrien’s lie. “Except Luka didn’t break my heart,” he clarified as an afterthought.

Victor snorted. “You are trying to tell me that you were not heartbroken two years ago?”

A sulky expression leaked through Adrien’s composed mask. “Okay, but that wasn’t Luka’s fault. That was my father’s for ripping me away from a friend who was really important to me.”

Victor nodded in a manner that indicated that he couldn’t care less whose fault it was. “Yes, yes.”

Suddenly a sausage-sized finger was being wagged in Adrien’s face. “Adrianka, I love you dearly, but—” An idiom that Adrien surmised meant something like “so help me God”. “—if I have to listen to you banging on that piano at all hours and sobbing into your pillow when you think no one can hear again…” he trailed off dangerously, crossing his arms over his chest.

Adrien flinched, shrinking as the tips of his ears turned pink.

Victor’s voice softened as he sighed and laid a giant palm on Adrien’s shoulder. “I am sick of Chopin,” he confessed gently. “I am even more sick of listening to you in pain, knowing there is nothing I can do to fix it for you. Do not put yourself in situations where you will be hurt, Adrianka.”

Adrien’s apprehension melted at the warmth and affection in his bodyguard’s words. With a bright smile, he threw his arms as far around Victor’s torso as they would reach, wrapping his steadfast companion in what would have been a crushing hug on anyone else.

“Thanks, Vitya,” he mumbled into Victor’s chest.

Victor sighed again, patting Adrien on the back. “Yes, yes. All right. Yes. Enough with the mushiness. It is nothing. I am simply tired of Chopin. I wish never to hear that brooding man’s melancholy coming from your piano ever again.”

Adrien pulled back and repeated, “Thank you…for caring about me.”

Victor rolled his eyes, affecting indifference and professional stoicism as he patted Adrien on the head. “This is not what I am paid for. This is not in my job description.”

Adrien snickered, amused at the fuss Victor was making all for show. “That’s why it means so much to me that you do care.”

Victor rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “…I am going to ask your father about you seeing this Couffaine boy,” he snorted and then actually turned and took a step towards the atelier.

Adrien’s heart dropped into his stomach. “W-Wait!”

Victor looked back at Adrien, cocking an eyebrow and smirking knowingly. “Why, Adrianka? Surely your father will confirm what you’ve told me, and then we can be on our way. What is the problem?”

Adrien grimaced.

Victor took another step and a half towards the atelier.

“Okay, fine,” Adrien sighed heavily. “You called my bluff. I just said I was meeting a friend; I didn’t say it was Luka, but in my own defence, I am legally an adult, and you guys can’t stop me from going where I want. So there,” Adrien concluded, petulantly crossing his arms in defiance.

Victor stifled a chuckle. “I look at you, and I still see that tiny, blonde, doll-like baby who I used to carry around on my shoulders. Perhaps you’ve grown too big for that now, but you will never grow so much that I stop seeing you as a child in need of my protection and mother-henning. You can be an adult when I’m dead. Until then, you’ll be hard pressed to stop me from throwing you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carting you off to someplace I determine you will be safe.—What does your photographer always say? ‘Capiche’?—Do we understand each other, Adrian Gavrillovich?”

Adrien’s face fell even further, and his arms dropped helplessly to his sides. He nodded dejectedly. “Yes, Vitya…but…I’m going anyway. I mean, I’ll go even if I have to sneak out, but…in case this all blows up in my face and I have a panic attack or emotional breakdown or something…I would really rather you drive me…please?” He peered up pleadingly at his bodyguard with the most pathetic, sad puppy-dog eyes he had in his arsenal.

Victor sighed heavily, scrubbing his face with a massive hand. “…Adrianka, this is not a good idea. Why do you want to do this so soon after you’ve had your heart broken?”

Adrien bit his lip and switched back to French to make certain that he expressed himself clearly. “I think repairing things with Luka will help.”

Victor crossed his arms, but he tipped his head slightly and cocked an eyebrow to show that he was listening.

Adrien took a measured breath and continued, “When I was hanging out with him and his family before, I felt…like I belonged…like I was okay how I was, even though I had a lot of issues. Luka still liked me on my bad days. It didn’t matter if I was crying over a fight with Dad or if I was an anxious wreck over an upcoming fencing tournament or piano recital. Whatever I was feeling was fine. Whenever I was in good spirits, we’d hang out and have fun, but whenever I was a mess, he’d sit with me and let me cry, comfort me, help me to talk it out. …I think I could really use a friend like that in my life right now. Everyone else has been great,” Adrien rushed to assure, “but Luka always seemed to get me…and it couldn’t hurt to have another friend, could it?”

Victor pursed his lips, weighing Adrien’s arguments. “What if he’s changed? What if he’s not the boy you knew anymore?”

Adrien frowned, caught off guard momentarily. “He…It didn’t seem like he’d changed much the other night when I saw him at Chloé’s party. And he texted me yesterday to apologize for the misunderstanding and make sure I was okay. I’m sure he’s not exactly the same, but I can’t imagine Luka changing all that drastically in just two years.”

Victor shook his head slowly. “Adrianka, perhaps under normal circumstances it would be good for you to rekindle your friendship with the Couffaine boy now that your father is easing up on restrictions, but I do not see this going well, you trying to befriend the boy that the girl you like chose over you. This ends poorly.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Adrien gently insisted. “I think being friends with Marinette’s boyfriend could be a good thing.”

Victor gave Adrien a look that said that he thought Adrien was delusional, but Victor did not verbally respond, letting Adrien continue.

Adrien let out a soft, frustrated sigh and forged forward. “Look, ever since things first blew up with Marinette, my friend group has been divided. Alya has been trying to split her time between us, but the reality is that she’s Marinette’s best friend, so she feels like she has to be on Marinette’s ‘side’, so I’ve hardly seen Alya in two months. I don’t want there to be ‘sides’. I don’t want to cause a rift. I don’t want to not be invited to things because Luka and Marinette are going to be there. Sunday was Marinette’s graduation party, and she didn’t invite me. She didn’t even tell me about it because—I don’t know—maybe it was because Luka was going to be there and she wasn’t ready to tell me they were dating. Maybe it was because she still needed space or whatever, but the point is that I was excluded because of the mess between me and Marinette.” His voice dipped low, cracking.

His gaze dropped to the floor. “That’s not a good feeling. I don’t know how many other graduation parties I wasn’t invited to because of this, but I don’t want to be left out any more than I already am. If I’m friends with Luka, if everybody can see that things are okay, that there doesn’t have to be an Adrien side and a Marinette side, maybe things can slowly go back to normal. Maybe being friends with Luka will help me be friends with Marinette again too. I just…” Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet Victor’s gaze imploringly. “More than anything, I want some kind of normal again.”

Victor nodded slowly, resignedly, a look of deep compassion in his eyes. “I don’t know that this is the way to go about it, but…I’m not about to let you go alone to find out the hard way that this is a bad idea. I wouldn’t want you getting upset and falling off a roof on your way back. I don’t trust that suit of yours to protect you.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he realized that of course Victor knew. The man had only spent the better part of nearly every day of the past decade within shouting distance of Adrien. Victor would have been a poor bodyguard if he hadn’t picked up on his charge’s secret.

“Go wait around front, Adrianka,” Victor instructed, giving Adrien a gentle pat on the head. “I’ll bring the car around, but if this goes badly and your father asks why I took you, I’m going to—” An idiomatic expression that Adrien did not understand but surmised from context to mean something like “throw you under the bus”. “—and tell him you swore up and down that you had his express permission to go.”

“I think I can live with that,” Adrien snickered and started to make his way out front to wait.

 “Forgive me,” Nooroo’s disembodied voice whispered from inside Adrien’s right shoulder as they waited for Victor to bring the car. “but yesterday I thought that you told Ladybug that you did not wish to be her friend any longer and needed some space and some time.”

Adrien blinked, frowning down in confusion at the offending shoulder as he fiddled with his ring and readjusted his tie. “Yeah? What about it?” he whispered back gently.

“Just now, you told your guard that you wanted to rekindle your friendship with Monsieur Couffaine so that it would facilitate rebuilding your friendship with Miss Dupain-Cheng. I am just a little confused about this development. Do we wish to be friends with Miss Dupain-Cheng now?”

A florid blush burst forth on Adrien’s cheeks, and he looked away, mumbling, “No. Not right now, no.”

“He just knows he’s going to change his mind,” Plagg snickered helpfully from within Adrien’s left shoulder.

“I’m allowed to change my mind if I want,” Adrien grumbled sullenly. “Human beings often say one thing and then turn around and do another. It’s not that I have changed my mind…just that I can.”

“Of course you can,” Plagg agreed more gently, easing up on his chosen.

“Of course, Adrien-bocchama,” Nooroo echoed.

Adrien took a deep breath, trying to re-center himself. “For right now, though, I’d kind of like to focus on the task at hand. I’m not one hundred percent certain what’s going to happen with Luka, and I’d like to concentrate on him before I really start thinking about the dizzying prospect of being just friends with the girl I am madly in love with.”

 Crossing the gangplank to the Liberty, Adrien was all nerves. He took a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm himself before checking the railing for the bell pull that the Couffaines used to keep on the banister at the end of the walkway. Adrien had only used it a handful of times when he’d first started visiting before Anarka had reassured him that Juleka hadn’t been kidding: Adrien really could just come aboard at his leisure, without invitation, at any time of the day or night, and the Couffaines would be happy to have him.

This time, though, Adrien thought it better to stand on formality. Despite Luka’s behaviour at the party and despite Luka’s texts the day before, Adrien wasn’t entirely sure that he was welcome anymore.

He’d just reached for the rope to pull when someone cleared their throat in a manner that suggested Adrien had been caught doing something he oughtn’t. He looked up and around to find Juleka rising from a deck chair and setting down her magazine to make her way over.

“Uh…hey…Juleka,” he greeted lamely, completely thrown off.

She came to a stop in front of him with her arms crossed, a wary look on her face. She was affectively barring his way, blocking him from coming down off the gangplank and properly coming aboard the Liberty.

Adrien couldn’t determine whether it was deliberate.

“Hey,” she returned his salutation in a monotone…not that that was unusual or in any way telling for Juleka. She brushed her hair out of her face with a finger to peer at him curiously with both amber eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Adrien was wondering the same thing.

He gulped. “I came to see Luka?”

Juleka stiffened at that, but at the same time she laughed, teasing, “Are you sure about that?”

Adrien nodded, not certain what to make of his former classmate. They hadn’t talked much the past two years. Adrien had, in fact, actively avoided Juleka and Rose for twelve whole months after their abrupt parting until the following year when they had all been placed in the same class again and avoiding them became near impossible. Two years before, Adrien and Juleka had enjoyed a tentative friendship, teasing one another relentlessly and giving each other trouble just for the fun of it. Now, Adrien had no idea where they stood.

“Is Luka expecting you?” Juleka eyed him intently in a cross between suspicion and circumspection. Her expression and stance were still guarded.

“Uh…no,” Adrien admitted with a frown. “I’m sorry. I just kind of decided this morning to drop by spur of the moment.”

Some of the tension seemed to come out of Juleka’s posture.

Adrien bit his lip. “Is now a bad time?”

She nodded. “Luka’s not actually home right now.”

“O-Oh,” Adrien replied, the word sticking in his throat as his heart sank.

Yes, Adrien had been nervous and, frankly, scared stiff at the thought of seeing Luka again and possibly getting shot down like a pheasant, but now that seeing Luka was no longer an option, Adrien began to realize how badly he’d wanted the reunion.

“Do-Do you happen to know when he’ll be back?” Adrien asked, hearing himself like some disembodied voice.

Juleka’s lips pressed together, and she let her bangs fall back into her face as she frowned, crossing her arms once more. “Look…Adrien… This is nothing against you personally, but I don’t think you should be hanging around my brother.”

Adrien’s mouth dropped open, and he stared at Juleka, thinking he must have misheard. “S-Sorry. What?”

She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and continued in the strongest, most determined voice Adrien had ever heard from her, “Please stay away from my brother. I don’t know what’s going on with you this year, but I do know that I don’t want my brother mixed up in it. Luka doesn’t need you in his life right now.”

“O-Oh,” Adrien croaked, breath hitching as he began to hear blood rushing in his ears.

“He’s finally with the girl he’s always wanted,” she pressed on. “He’s happy, and I don’t want you messing that up for him, okay? He’s one of the best people on this earth, and he deserves to be happy. He doesn’t need you coming back here after the way you just dropped him last time.”

“I-I didn’t—My father was—” Adrien tried to explain, but his thoughts were fragmented, and it was getting hard to breath, let alone form coherent sentences to explain Gabriel’s blackmail tactics.

Juleka let out a derisive bark of laughter. “Yeah, yeah. Luka’s told me it was your father’s fault, but do you really believe that you’re completely blameless?”

“I…” Adrien gulped.

“You didn’t fight for him,” Juleka accused with heat, eyes beginning to dampen as the memories flooded back, reigniting the rage she had felt, the fear, the confusion of when Adrien had left them without explanation, ripping her brother’s heart out and taking it with him.

“You just rolled over and did what your father told you to. You didn’t even try to fight for Luka. He wasn’t worth it to you,” she hissed.

Adrien opened his mouth to tell her exactly how much Luka had been worth to him, but she spoke again first.

“You hurt him,” Juleka added, voice losing its edge, sounding pained instead of accusatory.

Her strong, dependable, unshakable brother had fallen to pieces right in front of her eyes, leaving her helpless, not knowing what to do, not knowing if things would ever be okay again for a little over a year.

“…I thought we were going to lose him, you hurt him so bad,” she whispered, voice raw, visible eye piercing through Adrien, robbing him of his voice. “Why should I let you come back and hurt him again?”

All Adrien could do was stand there on the gangplank with his mouth hanging partially open. He was completely defenseless against her words. What could he say?

“Juju!” Rose called as she ascended the stairs to the deck, her singsong cutting through the tense atmosphere. “Juleka! Have you seen my—Oh!” Rose came to a sudden stop when she spotted their visitor. “A-Adrien! Hi!” she greeted, skipping across the deck to her girlfriend’s side.

“Uh…Hi,” Adrien replied in a bit of a daze. “Hi, Rose. How are you?”

Oddly enough, Rose didn’t seem displeased to see him. Her face lit up in a wide grin, and even her crystal blue eyes smiled as she answered, “Pretty well, thanks! How about you?” She tipped her head to the side. “I’ve heard you’ve been sick. Are you feeling okay? You look awfully pale.”

Adrien opened his mouth to respond, but Juleka cut him off. “Rose, Adrien was just dropping by to say hi to Luka—”

Rose brightened an extra hundred or so watts, opening her mouth and starting to gesture back towards where she had come from below deck, as if she were going to offer to go back down and fetch Luka for Adrien.

Juleka steamrolled over Rose’s offer. “—but Luka isn’t here right now, right, Rose?”

Rose frowned in confusion and started to contradict her girlfriend when Juleka gave Rose a look.

Rose’s eyes widened, and her lips came into the shape of a miniature letter O. Slowly, she began to nod. “Ooooh. Right. Luka…Luka isn’t here right now.”

“Oh,” Adrien replied flatly, finally understanding. Luka was downstairs, but Adrien wasn’t welcome aboard the Liberty. Luka didn’t want to see Adrien. “I don’t suppose I could wait for him?” he suggested petulantly just for the sake of being difficult.

“No,” Juleka decreed as Rose surreptitiously slipped her phone out of her pocket, holding it down at her side so that Juleka wouldn’t see her typing: “drop what you’re doing and get up here NOW pretend to be looking for something LOUDLY”.

“No, he’s going to be gone for hours,” Juleka lied, unaware of Rose’s subterfuge.

“We’ll tell him you stopped by,” Rose assured with a bright smile. “He’ll be really happy to know you came to see him.”

Adrien blinked owlishly at Rose, thinking he’d misheard her. “R-Really? You think he’d be happy?”

“Mmhm.” Rose nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll be sure to tell him you were here.”

“But you should probably go now,” Juleka added pointedly with the conviction of someone certain she was protecting a loved one from ruin.

“Juleka!” Luka called from below deck.

Adrien’s heart ceased to function properly. All air molecules left his lungs, and the tips of his ears turned poppy red.

Juleka, as if to provide contrast, turned milk white.

“Juleka!” Luka called again. “Have you seen my—?” He paused at the top of the stairs, blue eyes catching on green. “…Adrien,” he breathed reverently.

Adrien’s doubts evaporated with one glimpse of Luka’s smile. It was obvious from the expression on Luka’s face that Luka very much did want to see Adrien.

Adrien returned the smile shyly, hand going to rub at the back of his neck. “Hi.”

“Luka! When did you get back?” Rose greeted in an attempt to keep up Juleka’s ruse. “We thought you’d be gone for hours still! What good luck! Adrien came by to see you, but we thought you weren’t here, and Adrien was just about to leave, but you came up just in time!”

Luka didn’t seem to hear Rose as he made his way over to the gangplank, eyes locked on Adrien. “Hi,” he chuckled, beaming with a star-like effulgence. “You really came to see me?”

Adrien nodded. “Uh…yeah. Yeah, I did. At the party, you’d mentioned hanging out, and then…” Adrien bit his lip. “I mean…your texts yesterday made it sound like-like that offer was still on the table, despite recent plot developments, so…” He took a deep breath and looked Luka in the eye. “I came to apologize and see if you’d be willing to give me a second chance.” His smile took on a nervous aspect. He still half expected to be rejected.

But Luka grinned his closed-mouth smile, shoulders shaking as he laughed. His eyes were warm and welcoming. “As many as you need,” he assured.

A weight lifted from Adrien’s chest, and he sighed in relief, chuckling giddily. “Thank you.”

Luka shrugged. “No thanks necessary. Come aboard.”

Adrien took a step forward but stopped when he realized that Juleka wasn’t moving to let him past. “Um…?”

Luka blinked and then seemed to register his sister’s presence. “Hey, Jules? You’re kind of blocking the path.”

Juleka looked down at her feet, muttering something not even Adrien could make out with his enhanced hearing as she shuffled out of the way.

Luka turned his gaze back on Adrien, holding out a hand. “Watch your step. Wouldn’t want you to trip.”

“I am never going to live that down, am I?” Adrien groaned, taking the proffered hand as he stepped down onto the deck.

“Nope,” Luka confirmed. “It’s one of my favourite memories of you.”

Adrien gave a snort. “Don’t sass me.”

“Don’t be catty,” Luka returned with a wink.

Adrien’s pout turned into a smirk. “I’m allowed to be a bit of a sourpuss. After all, you just foiled my ingenious scheme to trip and fall into your arms,” Adrien took a risk and teased, testing the waters to see how easily they could fall back into their old patterns.

Without missing a beat, Luka clicked his tongue. “Darn me and my gallantry. Warn me next time, and I’ll happily allow you to ‘trip’.”

“I’ll make sure to give you a heads up,” Adrien assured, glad to see that platonic flirting was still acceptable.

“How long are you going to keep holding his hand?” Juleka inquired reprovingly, cutting through the moment.

Adrien jumped and almost pulled back, but Luka gave his hand a squeeze as he responded, “Forever,” with a shrug, tugging Adrien’s hand into his chest. “This is mine now.”

Adrien couldn’t help laughing. “But I need that.”

Luka shook his head. “You’re ambidextrous. You can just learn to use your right hand for everything.”

“But I need both hands to play the piano,” Adrien protested even as he noted that Luka’s REO Speedwagon shirt was really soft.

“Ah.” Luka pursed his lips. “All right. He makes a good point. It would be a crime to rob the world of such a pianist. You can have this back on the condition that you play me something later.”

“Deal,” Adrien agreed with a laugh and immediately missed Luka’s warmth as his hand was released.

Juleka rolled her eyes with a snort and stalked back over to her deckchair to ressume her magazine.

Rose followed, sitting at Juleka’s feet and resting her head in Juleka’s lap, giving her girlfriend comforting nuzzles and gentle reassurances that things were going to be okay.

Adrien cleared his throat awkwardly. “So…at the party, I believe we established that we both enjoy opera?”

“We did,” Luka agreed, tipping his head to the side in curiosity.

“Have you ever seen Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo?” Adrien baited.

Luka arched an eyebrow. “I mean, online, yes, but never in person. They don’t really perform it often.” His cheeks turned pastel pink as he confessed, “Honestly, I haven’t actually seen much opera in person at all.”

Adrien blinked in disbelief. “You haven’t?”

Luka shook his head and shrugged. “Too expensive.”

Adrien winced. “Sor—”

“—Don’t worry about it,” Luka cut him off with an easy grin. “I’ve seen some excellent performances online and by borrowing recordings from the library.”

“Would you like to see Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo in person?” Adrien inquired, wearing a sly smile.

“Don’t tease me,” Luka pouted with an undercurrent of excitement as he nudged Adrien’s arm.

“I’m not teasing,” Adrien promised, elbowing Luka back. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

Luka gazed at Adrien, glacial blue eyes full of tentative hope. “Going to see Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo?”

Adrien grinned, flashing the tickets. “I got us box seats. Some obscenely rich dowager is putting on a private performance tomorrow night because she has nothing better to do with her time and money, and since I am also rich and famous and friends with the mayor’s daughter, I was able to get on the guestlist. Wanna be my date?”

Luka could only nod as he stared in awe at the ornately embossed invitations.

“In case you missed it, this is me trying to impress you with my money and social status in an attempt to bribe you into being my friend again. …How am I doing?” Adrien chuckled nervously.

“I’m definitely impressed,” Luka assured. “Bribery isn’t necessary, but you won’t hear any complaints from me. I’m just kind of worried that I don’t have anything nice enough to wear to a snazzy event like this. What you saw me in at Chloé’s party was the nicest thing I own, and even that is a little on the casual side.”

“No worries,” Adrien replied, waving away Luka’s concerns. “I have a whole basement level filled with formalwear. How about I pick you up at six and bring you back to my house for dinner? Then we can play dress up and leave for the opera from there. How’s that sound?”

“Your father would let you do that?” Luka asked incredulously. “Have someone over and borrow one of his designs like that?”

Adrien’s smile turned sheepish. “I think so? If I asked, probably. I’m not exactly sure what the rules are nowadays, but he’s being pretty lenient in general since my first breakdown two months ago. And, I mean, if he says no, I’ll just buy you a suit and take you out to dinner instead—I’m not accepting ‘no’ for an answer, by the way,” Adrien added as he saw Luka start to open his mouth in protest. “You know money is nothing to me. I want to take you to the opera. Okay?”

Luka bit his lip but quickly gave up all thought of arguing. “Okay. But I owe you, all right?”

“For what?” Adrien snorted. “This is a trade: I take you to the opera; you be my friend again. Honestly, I think I’m the one who still owes you.”

Luka rolled his eyes, insisting, “Seriously, Adrien, you don’t have to bribe me. I want to be friends again just as much as you do.”

“Fine,” Adrien relented. “Then take all this as an apology…for how things ended last time. I’m sorry about my father, and I’m sorry that I…that I couldn’t…didn’t…I’m sorry, Luka,” Adrien concluded with a sigh. “I’m so sorry.”

Luka shook his head and tentatively reached out a hand to ruffle Adrien’s hair. “It wasn’t your fault, Angel. Look at me.”

Hesitantly, Adrien did. “But I should have—”

“—Shh,” Luka interrupted softly, giving Adrien’s head a gentle pat. “No. You didn’t do anything wrong. Let’s put that behind us, okay?”

Adrien’s teeth cut into his bottom lip as he studied Luka’s face, the soft look in his eyes.

Luka was all warmth and fondness and forgiveness.

Adrien let out a long sigh of relief. “Okay. All right…. Friends?” He held out his hand.

“Friends,” Luka agreed, taking it and using it to pull Adrien into a hug.

They squeezed each other fiercely and then quickly stepped back, all smiles.

“Hey, so are you busy right now?” Luka inquired, feeling giddy. He stuffed his hands into his pockets in an attempt to keep himself from reaching out for Adrien again.

Adrien smelled just as good as Luka remembered. Adrien was warm and solid, compact yet muscular. His hair was like feathers, his skin smooth and soft. Two years had added hints of a more mature masculinity around the edges, but Adrien hadn’t really changed much. Adrien was still a delight to have in Luka’s arms.

Luka had to remind himself that he was no longer single and no longer in love with this boy. He couldn’t allow himself to dive back in where they’d left off. Luka was over the Adrien of two years ago and didn’t yet know the Adrien in front of him. Luka needed to police himself.

“Right now? No. I don’t have anywhere I need to be.” Adrien replied with a shrug. “Why do you ask?”

“Do you want to come below deck and hang out for a bit?” Luka offered, suddenly nervous again.

Adrien’s eyes lit up. “Really? Sure! I’d love to. Just let me text my driver not to wait for me.” He smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t really certain what your response to me showing up here would be after the whole…uh…” His gaze dropped down to his feet for an instant. “…debacle with your girlfriend, so…” He looked back up, mentally reinforcing the edges of a shaky smile. “Victor was waiting for me in case you said you never wanted to speak to me again and I ended up slinking back to the Mansion with my tail between my legs.”

Luka winced. “Well, I can’t really blame you for being concerned, I guess. I was sort of worried that you would never want to talk to me again, so…I suppose we were equally wrong.”

“Thank goodness,” Adrien chuckled, pulling out his phone and typing a quick text to Victor, letting him know that Adrien was staying and could make his own way home.

“All right,” Adrien announced, slipping his mobile back into his pocket. “Take me to your keyboard. I believe I owe you a song for the safe return of my left hand?”

Luka chuckled, assuring, “Only if you want to, but I’d personally love to hear you play. I’ve been deprived of your talents for too long.”

“Ditto,” Adrien snickered. “I’ll trade ya. I’ll play whatever you want, but then I want to hear everything you’ve been up to musically for the past two years.”

Luka gave a surprised snort of laughter. “Everything?”

“Everything,” Adrien confirmed. “How am I supposed to be your biggest fan again if you don’t catch me up?”

Luka quirked an eyebrow at his friend’s sincerity. “But catching you up will take weeks.”

Adrien shrugged. “I’m not opposed to moving back in with you guys. I assume my bed is still right where I left it?” he inquired innocently.

Luka put a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Your bed?”

“Mmhm.” Adrien nodded. “You know. The one I annexed two years ago and then magnanimously allowed you to use?”

“Ah, yes,” Luka snickered. “I am intimately acquainted with the bed in question. Don’t worry. It’s right where you left it.”

“G-Good.” Adrien’s voice caught as he suddenly found himself getting choked up. “Sorry.” He took a quick swipe at his eyes. “I don’t know why I’m—” He met Luka’s gaze bashfully. “…I missed you.”

Luka nodded, tentatively reaching out to stroke Adrien’s hair, unsure of whether he was allowed to anymore, and, even then, whether he should.

“I missed you too.” The words were abysmally inadequate for the sentiment they were meant to convey.

“After my father—I was miserable for months,” Adrien confessed, sighing. “It was like a part of me had been ripped away suddenly, and I couldn’t be the me that I was when I was here. I had to go back to being the me I was before, and I just couldn’t make myself fit anymore, but—” He rolled his eyes self-deprecatingly, smiling wryly. “I’m probably not making any sense.”

He was making perfect sense to Luka. Those feelings weren’t exactly the same as what Luka had experienced at their separation, but Luka could relate to the suffering behind Adrien’s words.

Adrien looked down at his feet. “Just...What I’m trying to say is, I missed you guys. I missed the Liberty and the person I was when I was here with you and your family. I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to have any of this ever again, so…I know I’m a sentimental sap, but being here and joking with you like nothing has changed means the world to me. A lot of things—everything—in my life is changing right now. It’s really nice to have something that feels normal. Everything is overwhelming right now, so…this is really nice. Sorry I’m being ridiculous and emotional,” he laughed sheepishly, trying to trivialize his feelings and so excuse them. “Thank you for having me here.”

Luka stepped forward, pulling Adrien into a tight hug. “Thanks for coming back to me…even though it took a long time,” Luka whispered into Adrien’s hair, lips brushing against the shell of Adrien’s ear.

Adrien’s whole body tingled pleasantly as he began to melt into Luka.

Catching himself, Luka pulled back and smiled disarmingly. “How’s your Liszt?”

A surprised laugh burst forth from Adrien’s lungs, yanking him out of the previous moment in Luka’s arms. “Liszt? Tolerable. Any piece in particular you had in mind?”

“Totentanz,” Luka replied decidedly.

Adrien nodded to himself as he mentally ran over the song. “I think I remember most of it, but promise you won’t laugh when I totally blank.”

“Never,” Luka swore, crossing his heart. “Come on below deck.”

“Make sure you behave, Luc!” Juleka called after them. “Don’t make me tell your girlfriend on you. No blondes in the bed!”

“Is this a concern?” Adrien laughed, a tad confused at Juleka’s vehemence as Luka escorted him over to the stairs.

“Juleka may have seen us dancing at the party and gotten the wrong idea,” Luka sighed, waving his sister off over his shoulder.

Adrien winced. “Sorry about that.”

Luka shook his head. “No big. I’d dance with you again every time.”

Adrien grinned, cheeks heating up. Even though he didn’t really know what to do with that comment and how it made him feel, it still evoked a warm, happy glow in his chest.

“Luka, make sure you play him the Vivaldi piece!” Rose added her two centimes. “That way you can stop practicing because we’re all sick of it.”

“Vivaldi?” Adrien’s head cocked to the side.

Luka grimaced. “Uh…you mentioned the first movement of Vivaldi’s Winter at the party…. I may have been playing it all week.”

Adrien laughed. “You see, that’s really funny because you mentioned Ravel’s Miroirs No. 3, ‘Une Barque sur l'Ocean’, and I’ve been playing it all week too.”

Luka blinked, a blinding blush creeping up on his cheeks. “R-Really?”

Adrien smirked. “Mmhm. I’ll play it for you after Totentanz.” With a patented wink, he turned and headed down the stairs.

Luka paused for a minute, trying to puzzle out the meaning of all this. He promptly got distracted by the fit of Adrien’s jeans as his friend descended the steps.

It was then that it dawned on Luka that, even though he was no longer in love with Adrien, he was closer to the edge than he’d realized. One good shove, and he’d fall headlong.

Luka was in serious trouble.

[lovecanbesostrange]

Obligatory Grey’s feels feat Station 19

To get it out of the way. I liked Andi and Maya talking about all the crap between them and getting back to friendship territory. My problem is that the show started with “we are best friends” and it’s been such a steady downhill, that I find it poorly developed. Please be better, because omg does Andi need friends. Also somebody keeping Maya from spinning out is nice. Love her and Carina so much. Especially because Carina has been in Seattle for three seasons already and she is such a caring and wholesome person.

Loved the Drag Queens and this family vibe. The music-montage felt a bit too overdramatic though. But overall this is especially a win for Travis. Realizing he needs gay friends in his life, because everybody was his late husband’s circle and they drifted apart. (GS/S19 LGBT meetings? We could find out if Parker is somewhere at all, Taryn could get more help getting over her Meredith-crush, we have Nico, Levi, Maya, Carina... Teddy walks by awkwardly “well, I named my daughter after the woman I loved, whose death was so traumatic that I joyned the army and never told anyone about the truth of our relationship, am I allowed here??” and Amelia can just sit there........)

Oh right, I like Sullivan starting at the bottom. That’s a true new start. I hate that the PRT is gone, because it was a good concept to give the show more room for medical drama and it fit Warren’s skill set so well. :( btw Andi totally upholding Bailey/Warren as the relationship goal is cute, just like when Jo did this with Bailey.

So, now on to the FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELS. GEORGE O’MALLEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I have to be honest, I am 9000% over the way people put George on a pedastal in fandom, completely ignoring his trademark Nice Guy traits. Like everybody on Grey’s he did have flaws. And in some ways I did not miss him that much, but his death gets me everytime. Which funny enough was just this week on endless-rerun. So Meredith going “it’s George! it’s George!” and the funeral and everything was fresh in my mind once again and it was so nice seeing this calm version of him.

Bonuspoints for adressing that he aged. Because nothing is real anyway. It doesn’t matter if you want to read this as an actual glimpse into an afterlife or Meredith is having vivid Covid-dreams. The content is real to her (very King’s Cross). And I liked how she talked about that George left a mark. Even though we have to remember S1-5 are only two years of time. Extreme trauma conga! Short friendship, but so intense. Lexie, Steph or Levi now have spent more time at the hospital than George ever did. But those two years of residency were super formative.

That last moment with Webber and Bailey sitting there, was a really pretty picture. Calmness during the storm.

On the awake side of things I like how Meredith being sick is an anchor in the pandemic storyline. With all the doctors throwing around all the possible treatments. Teddy’s little meltdown of trying to stay on top of things was heartbreaking. So many news in 24 hours... and all of that is so much more important than the interpersonal drama. People are dying. And they won’t let us forget.

I did feel bad for Tom. And it’s him I am worried about if maybe they will let some more prominent character die. Casually throwing in that Helm had a mild case of covid was interesting. Because yeah, for some it’s not that bad. But for Tom there is also this obsession and his ego. And Teddy showing up was... hard. I do think he needs a friend. But she is also the source of his misery. Fucked up.

I love Link and Amelia. They process things in a very different way, but they managed to talk about this and find the ground where “you need this, I need this and we will let the other have their emotions”. Actual communication and support? in a romantic relationship? On my Grey’s Anatomy? (That is something Meredith and Derek could be very good at; Miranda and Ben are doing the best they can; it was what made Jo and Alex perfect for each other; it’s also why in the end I feel that Callie and Arizona as well as Jackson and April missed the mark, because they could be very bad at not fighting about their different coping mechanisms.)

Also I understand both. Link was isolated, had this cancer diagnosis, hovering parents and his whole life revolved around his illness. So he said “fuck it, the bad shit is here, but I can focus elsewhere”. And Amelia has drowned her sorrows and worries in drugs and alcohol and needs to let them out. Full on dark mode, panic attack and screaming. I think in a crisis they can manage to ground each other, if they keep the communication open. I really hope they will be allowed to stay in healthy couple mode (doesn’t mean there can never be conflict).

So, Levi and Nico are sex buddies - thanks Netherlands - and Levi is all about “having needs”. Wow, that was a fast development. Maybe they can talk about their emotional state a bit more. Would like to see them take inventory and speak about what the problem truly was.

Nico seems to have so much bottled up rage and it definitely bleeds together. As seen when he did confront Owen about the misdiagnosis. Pretty sure that comment from the woman in the ER is part of that. The Asian doctor getting asked where he is from... oh yeah, maybe for some more conservative viewers (that Grey’s does have for some miracle reason lol) they need to spell it out that this was over the “china virus”.Almost too subtle.

I am almost sorry it was Owen who got handed this bit. Because that could’ve been any white doctor really. The scene with Bailey was great. (When she had her heart attack and lectured that idiot psychiatrists at Seattle Pres was an amazing scene I still think about.) Owen is the go-to-hate-character already and this really isn’t about a personal racist failing, but a systematic problem. But I think Owen is the type of guy who will look at protocols and adjust. He is good at his job.

And ah, yes, the fun part - Jackson and Jo. Can I have this please? Can I just have friends with benefits with these two? I know it’s fucking Grey’s and odds are one of them will catch feelings, but I loved their last conversation, both being “omg so not ready for a relationship atm, but the sex was awesome”. Their upbringing is such a contrast and I think in a romantic relationship this spells terrible disaster. But if they manage to be friends who drink beer, play videogames, watch sports, talk about all the people they know and then award each other with orgasms - it’s a super fun disaster!! :3

I laughed when Jo was “gonna have sushi AND pizza and you’re paying”. I think Jo is allowed to make fun of Jackson’s lifestyle. BUT I need to get a tiny little scene where maybe she shows up bringing... a special brand of alcohol he likes or just his favorite pastry, whatever. Jo once won 1000$ from Alex and bought him a couch. She put all her savings into the loft. (Yes, she also said Alex could buy her new shoes, when he took the extra job.) Just don’t make it look like she is taking some weird financial advantage. (She owns shares in the hospital and does get an attending salary, come on.)

Dear Jackson, you mentioned Vic, Maggie and April. Did you leave out the part where you left Steph at a wedding on purpose? That was the perfect way to remember her and make this thing more awkward. XD Also please tell me they exchange more stories. Jackson and Jo haven’t crossed paths that often and were part of different dramatic storylines. Does Jo even know Jackson dated Lexie once? (I hope Alex told her about who Lexie was, or Meredith. Her freaking name is on the building.) Exchanging stories about Meredith was a good place to start.

Also bonuspoints for telling me that Jo is still doing therapy. Much, much needed information and I’m glad to know.

Oh right, the Maggie bit. I like Winston and WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. That was his dad? Coming on and first thing is to talk shit about his son? For having bad grades in school once?? Yeah, man, tune that shit out. It was nice that Maggie gave him space. I think she could’ve send a text to clarify if she should just leave it or if he wanted to talk, but either way, so mature. What’s happening with relationships?

[skullcd-blog]

Why do you think it is that male characters are more popular than females?

Edit: I originally began writing this during my Algebra I class on mobile, so I decided to wait to respond until I got home from college, so sorry for the delay!

Misogyny, my dude. I’ll elaborate, but that’s what it is at its core.

Male characters get preferential treatment, which makes shipping or wanting to ship or explore that aspect of writing difficult without being slut shamed when writing female characters. This is especially true for original characters and WOC.

I’ve written both male and female characters, white and POC, canon and original characters, and I’ve noticed the difference in the varying popularity of my blogs and that of friends. I would say that the blogs I have now are all doing relatively well, so I can’t complain in that regard, but there’s still this stigma that all the muns of female characters want are ships or smut, and really there’s nothing inherently wrong with that. That’s right, I said it. There’s nothing wrong with it. Fuck you, I like ships as much as I like writing smut. There is, however, a problem when people go about it in such a way that it feels forced. 

It’s when people are unable to discern IC and OOC, blurring the two in such a way that they take it personally, especially self-inserts under the guise of “original” characters. 

To clarify, I think self-inserts can be fun, so long as the mun knows not to take what happens in a fictional setting as a personal attack on them. As it stands, however, I’ve seen blogs in this community that do just that, so naturally the the majority assumes that 99.999% of original characters are that, especially those of the feminine persuasion. But that’s just one example of a bad roleplayer, and I don’t mean bad as in it pertains to their writing skill, but in some scenarios that can also be applicable.

That being said, I’ve fallen in love with many an OC. The majority of muses I have are OCs, and female. I’ll be honest, I used to self-insert all the time, but it was never in a roleplay setting. In high school, I wrote self-insert Hellsing fanfiction with a friend, and we had a fucking amazing time doing it and I miss those days. My writing back then was really… not so great, but it was only because I was still learning. 

My very first OC started off as a self-insert that gradually became her own character to the point where, yeah, we may have had one or two things in common that were simple preferences (and if you sit there and tell me you’ve never given your characters certain attributes based off yourself, be they OC or canon, you, my guy, are a lying liar) but she had become so drastically different from my original idea that I had of her, from her backstory to her name, that she was very much her own entity.

She was powerful, she was intelligent, flawed to be sure, but knew who and what she wanted. She ended up changing the mind of a former partner on their stances regarding OCs, and because of that partner I learned so much about writing.

Did you know that Elizabeth actually now has that character’s old first name? Liz started off as a self-insert named Ebi back when I first came up with her concept a year and a half ago. She was a punk with crazy purple hair that ran away from home at 16 (sound familiar?), and she was mostly for private roleplays between a friend and I.

I’ve never run away from home, but at age 16 I was dealing with a lot of shit, namely my relationship with my mother, and Liz’s relationship with her mother and grandmother is an exaggerated version of what mine was like. But a lot of characters in fiction are made because an author needs an outlet, and while their characters aren’t them, they’ve put a lot of themselves into their character while that character still maintains their originality. 

Hell, I also struggle with cultural displacement, being half white and half Mexican with white passing privilege despite my daddy being darker than anything. My dad hates his people, because he wasn’t Mexican enough for them, and he became very resentful because of this. Liz’s father is very proud of his heritage, but Liz still struggles with feeling like she doesn’t know where she belongs in that regard, but more so from a mental and emotional standpoint. I’m very empathetic, and Liz is very apathetic at times, which impacts how she interacts with others. She’s logical, whereas I’m emotional. She thinks with her head, and I think with my heart. There’s similarities, but we aren’t the same person. That’s the difference between using a character as a coping mechanism, and living vicariously through roleplay. 

Shit, it’s why I picked Guzma as a muse. My anger doesn’t manifest itself physically like it does for him, but I suffer the emotional side of it. There’s a difference between being your character, and relating to them is the point that I’m trying to make. That’s the other side of the “are they a self-insert or are they an original character”? Sometimes it’s obvious and sometimes it isn’t, and people (in general) can make rather rude assumptions.

And god forbid a female muse on this website express themselves sexually. A male canon character does it, and y’all lose your fucking minds because hot. A female character does it, and it’s “she doesn’t need a man” or “oh my god, she’s so thirsty! How embarrassing!”

Fuck you, person. Fuck all of you who feel like female OCs need to prove they aren’t “thirsty” before you decide you’re going to interact with them. I was honest to God terrified of doing anything remotely risque on my blog because I wanted my character to be liked, and not associated with a shitty stereotype.

I wish I could elaborate more on characters that are transgender or non-binary. I’ve had one transgender character, who was canonically CIS, and I never received and any hate for that, but I fucking know it happens. I know characters in the Pokemon community who identify as such, and it disgusts me how a mun’s ignorance can influence the shit their muses do that are just blatantly transphobic, or erase the existence of non-binary or agender muses altogether. This applies to both muns of said muses, or muns who interact with said muses. Pouring one out for myself for all the shitty “genderbends” (I hate that term, by the way) I’ve been forced to witness with my own two eyes, based on the idea that there exists only two genders.

Gender is a fucking social construct, fight me, but I respect trans people who identify as either female or male, because I’m not a transphobic fuckhead, and dysphoria sucks.

I don’t want to leave anyone out of this, and if you have had experiences where your muse is trans, non-binary, agender, and you have gotten shit for it: 

You are valid as fuck, and please shove your muses my way, because I will love them.

Anyway, I answered this question to death by now, even adding personal experiences and comparisons.

TDLR I just don’t feel as though male muses experience the same amount of backlash and hate that female muses get, ya dig?

[ellanainthetardis]

I guess this is what they call a rare pairing ? I have no idea to be honest. @akachankami requested some becho and I just love Echo so much I said yes. Blink and you will miss the ship but it this is Echo centered. =) Let me know what you think! [FF] or [AO3]

Eko Kom Nou Kru

The sky is nothing like Echo imagined.

Three weeks and she is still as lost and bereft as she has been when she first put foot on what the others call ‘the ring’. Raunon. She still cannot wrap her head around it after a month of living on it. She saw it with her own eyes, she knows they are on an actual ring shaped construction but it does not feel round. She can walk for hours and come back to where she started and she will not have met any proof of curve.

Raven tried to explain the phenomenon to her and she understood it had to do with machineries and science but to her, somehow, it still feels a little like magic. Or sorcery.

She walks around it at night and she yearns for blue sky, grass and trees. She yearns for her trusted bow and the thrill of the hunt. She yearns for the solid companionship of an army at her back, ready to obey her orders. She yearns for war and the blood singing in her veins. She yearns for her sword and a worthy opponent. She yearns for a king or a queen to protect.

She yearns.

There is plenty to do during the day. Or at least, when the clock on the walls or one of her companions tell her it is daytime. Once Raven repaired them, the lights started turning on and off automatically to simulate a dawn and a dusk. It is even more depressing to her.

To feel the caress of the sun on her face…

Echo yearns.

She walks along the dark corridors, the dim lights of what she and Emori call Naitaim between them – night time – enough to find her way. She is uncomfortable with the electrical lights still but she prefers it to the pitch dark black of the first few days on the Ark. She has never been afraid of the dark until she’s been confronted to the empty vacuum that is space.

It is all the more lonely during naitaim. They all took to their new lives with an ease Echo envies. Harper and Monty are always the first ones to leave after they all shared food from plastic bags – MREs, they are called, which is just as confusing a name as everything else – quickly followed by Murphy and Emori when they bother to attend meal time. Raven and Bellamy often talk late into the night. She is welcomed to stay, she knows, but she never has anything to contribute and so she often leaves them to it.

Now that they have settled and that they can spare the power, they are talking about trying to communicate with the bunker. It is a good thing, Echo thinks, because she also yearns for her kru. What used to be her kru, at least.

They aren’t being successful though and Raven doesn’t want to risk taking more power from the crops they are trying to grow. There is always plenty of work to do and she is happy to help although reduced to a mindless pair of arms because she doesn’t understand half of what they are talking about.

She sought Emori’s company at first, assuming the girl would be just as lost as she is… Emori never blinks twice and has a knack for making herself useful though. She is a survivor to the core and while Echo doesn’t want to die, she has never felt the same despair to survive. She is a warrior born. Death, to her, is nothing but an inevitable enemy she would one day lose to. It isn’t the same for Emori. Outsider she might be but not the fish out of water that Echo is.

She doesn’t belong.

How can she?

She brushes her hand against the steel of the wall as she walks, the quiet sound of her footsteps her only companion. She tries to remember what Earth sounds like and she comes to a frightening blank. For a second, she cannot recall the chirping of birds or the ruffling of bushes in the wind. All she can hear is the quiet hum of the engine.

Raven described it to her as the heart of the Ark.

It is a heart.

The heart of the steel beast in whose belly they are trapped.

Often she wonders if she wouldn’t have preferred dying down there. Often she resents Bellamy for stilling her hand. Often she hates herself for her cowardice.

Hers would have been an honorable death. Where was honor in the sky?

She stops in front of the biggest window and watches the red ball that the ground has become.

Somehow, naitaim after naitaim she always ends up here.

It is the best place to yearn.

Fresh air that doesn’t leave her breathless for more. Food that tastes like actual meat or ripe fruit. Water that doesn’t smell of chemicals. The heat of the sun instead of the unforgiving cold of the sky… Snow and fallen leaves and dirt under her fingertips… The comforting rhythm of her own language… Rain pouring down on her face… A lover’s hand in her hair… A friendly embrace… Fayawa. Warmth.

“It was one of my favorite places when I was a kid.”

She doesn’t startle but it is a close thing. It only makes her more wary of herself, of who she is up there, that she cannot even hear the untroubled approach of someone who isn’t trying to be discreet. She was the best warrior Azgeda had to boost. Wormana to Queen Nia and then to King Roan. Warrior. Spy. Royal guard. Chief war advisor. And now… Now who is she? Echo of nowhere.

Bellamy comes to stand next to her and watches the dead earth in silence.

If she asked, he would leave. At least she thinks he would. He is respectful of other people’s wishes up to a point, she has observed. He persists only when he deems it necessary. When Monty becomes too sad over someone named Jasper. When Harper slips into a quiet but obvious panic. When Raven gets angry at something she cannot fix or not quickly enough for her tastes at least. When Murphy gets frustrated by his past deeds. When Emori doubts her acceptance in the group.

It is in her nature to observe, to ascertain the threat they represent, to quantify their weaknesses.

She has been with those people for a month. She knows them now. Better, perhaps, than they know themselves.

They aren’t very impressive individually – except maybe for Raven’s brain, she isn’t much of a warrior but she has a mind Echo cannot help but admire – but when they come together, they are like one of those stories old warriors pass along around a campfire after a battle.

“Disha ste thonken.” she finds herself saying after a little while.

She has never minded silence and Bellamy’s presence is comforting rather than oppressing but the confession slips out before she can think twice about it. She is always more at ease with Bellamy than she is with the others.

Maybe because he grieves and she understands his pain.

She lost a king.

He lost a queen.

“I used to think that too.” he shrugs. “The Ark… Space… It does feel hollow. Then I got down to Earth and… I realized I was the hollow one.” He paused for a bit and then a sad smile played on his lips. He hasn’t bothered shaving in a few days and there is the shadow of a beard on his jaw. She likes it and she hates how her body reacts to the thought of how that stubble would feel under her fingertips or against the soft skin of her inner thighs. She hasn’t laid with a man in too long. Her eyes dart back up when he speaks again, his own gaze still riveted to the burning planet below. “It’s what you make of the world around you that counts, what you do to make it better. I was lucky enough to meet people who taught me that.”

“Clarke.” she says with confidence and respect. She might not have seen eye to eye with Wanheda on every subject but she’s seen enough to admire the girl’s skills. Clark kom skaikru had the spirit of a leader.

“She was one of them, yeah.” Bellamy confirms with the same pain in his voice there always is when he mentions her. Love takes long to wither, she knows this and doesn’t push. “Kane too.”

“Skaikrus bandrona. Your ambassador” she clarifies.

She has spent less time with him than with Wanheda and while she knows King Roan has held respect and even affection for the man, she never had a real opportunity to make a clear idea for herself. Alliances shifted too often for trust and without trust it is hard to make an honest opinion of a person.  

“He is our Chancellor too.” he reminds her, a bit short, as if she is disrespecting Marcus Kane by forgetting that fact.

Chancellor holds little meaning to her. It is merely a word she has no translation for. Marcus Kane is no king to his people. He is no heda or chief. Those are titles that matter. Chancellor… She doesn’t know what to make of a role that keeps switching from people to people. Leading a kru is a sacred duty for her people, not something that is left to chance as Skaikru seems to be doing. Leaders emerge from chaos. They are not brought upon by a consensus.

Besides, it seemed to her as if Wanheda was the one in charge. Clarke has certainly been the one making decisions.

“Yu hodnes em.” she states.

It’s not really a question. She sees it on his face. He loves that man he talks about with so much respect.

“He is a great chancellor.” he retorts, almost defensive. Or even embarrassed. “A great man.”

“He was your king. Or its equivalent anyway.” she frowns. “There is no shame in loving your king.”

“There’s no reason to assume he didn’t make it into the bunker. He still is my chancellor.” he snaps and there is nothing but anger and frustration in his voice this time. Helplessness too, maybe. There was no time for his sister to say for sure who would live and who would die. She understands. If she had been uncertain as to the fate of her own king, she would have been distressed too. She prefers to keep her peace, let him cool down on his own. She achieves more like this than by pushing him. She only pushes when she is out of options. It is almost two whole minutes before he speaks again. “I never knew my dad. It’s stupid probably but… Kane… Kane was good to me.”

She wonders if that’s why he stopped shaving, to be more like the surrogate father he left behind.

“You miss him.” she ventures.

“What aren’t we missing those days?” he snorts without any amusement.

For a second, she sees how ragged he really is.

Bellamy is always walking around, it seems, checking on everyone, making sure they all stick together, always promising it would get easier and that they would walk on the ground again… He is the one making sure they don’t fall apart.

But, Echo realizes, nobody comforts him.

He never lets them see that he needs it.

Like a true leader would. He puts his kru first and his own needs come second to that.

“I missed my father’s advice for a long time after he passed.” she confides. “He was a warrior. He died a noble death.”

It is the important thing, she reminds herself, as always when the sorrow wants to grip her heart with its cold dead claws. Her father died a honorable death like her mother before him. Both renown warriors of Queen Nia. Both celebrated long after their passing. It doesn’t stop her from missing his voice or her perfume. It doesn’t stop her from wishing they hadn’t been torn away from her. But war is a merciless creature. She understands it better than she understands some people.

“I wonder about what happened to people from Azgeda too.” she adds. “Octavia promised me the clan would have a place with the rest of them.”

“Then, she kept her promise.” he offers quietly, with enough certainty to calm the nasty doubts that rise on some days. “Your clan will survive.”

She shakes her head, crossing her arms in front of her chest even though she knows it will betray her distress. “Azgeda isn’t my clan any longer. My king banished me. Ai laik dim Eko kom Azgeda noumo. Ai laik Eko kom nou kru. Ai laik Eko kom dropof.”

She hates herself for betraying how bitter she is about it, how bitter she feels… She hates this feeling of not belonging. She has always been part of something bigger. She has always served. Her life for the one wearing the crown.

“You’re not from nowhere.” he frowns.

“Yet here I am, in the middle of nowhere.” she argues. “Not only lost to my people but lost in the sky. Before we left you told me we would be tested… Is this my test? Tell me, Bellamy, what is a general without an army to command? What is a spy without people to spy on? What am I?”

Bellamy moves away from the window but it is her turn to resolutely stare at the scorched Earth. Even when he leans against the thick glass to study her, she doesn’t let her gaze stray away, pretending the burning sensation in her eyes comes from looking too long at the red blaze.

“Okay.” he says eventually and he sounds amused. As if she is being stupid. That’s another thing she hates about the sky. Echo isn’t stupid, far from it. She is a strategist. She knows how to win hopeless battles. She is fast and she is clever. It is why she’s been raised to a position of power so young in the first place. And yet their science makes her feel like an idiot. Emori is better at hiding her confusion and has experience on Becca’s island that Echo lacks. Bellamy’s amusement angers her but before she can lash out he continues. “One: don’t go wishing for wars, you’re going to jinx us. Two… You’re not Echo of no clan, you’re one of us now.”

She does look at him, then. Out of surprise if nothing else.

She never really thought about it like that. A clan. And yet now that he said the word, she sees it.

She’s speechless for a second and it’s all it takes for Bellamy to shuffle awkwardly.

“Look, I know there’s some bad blood between us…” he winces.

“There is.” she acknowledges quickly. “But we saved each other a few times too. What I did I did out of duty, it was my clan against yours. It was never me against you.”

His face hardens and she knows he’s thinking about the mountain. Or maybe he’s thinking that she almost killed his sister twice. She can’t deny not feeling a lot of remorse over Moun-de but she is glad she hasn’t beat Octavia. Oktavia kom Skaikru is someone she wouldn’t have minded calling Heda.

“It doesn’t matter.” he declares and his face softens again, his eyes sparkle and she is glad to see the twinkle that disappeared with Clarke’s death is coming back. “You proved yourself those last few weeks. So… What do you say? We’re just a band of misfits trying to survive in a hostile environment but… We can be your clan if you want us.”

A fourteenth clan. Of sort.

She pauses to think about what that would mean when they would go back to the ground – if they go back to the ground, she understands it will be just as difficult as going up – and she decides it doesn’t matter. Her first loyalty has always been to her people. She has been bereft without a clan and now…

“Gon ai koma, kom ai swison. Ai badan yu op, ai Haihefa.” The traditional oath rolls off her tongue with ease. How many time did she practice it so it would be flawless when Queen Nia elevated her to power? She has never meant them with as much fervor as she does now though. Maybe because Bellamy gave her a place to belong when she had no purpose. Maybe because he is someone she would be proud to serve. He seems lost and unsure. She thinks it might be because her language confuses him as much as his sometimes confuses her, so she translates for him, so there will be no doubt about her allegiances. “On my honor, with my sword. I serve you, my king.”

He takes a hasty step back, a look of horror mixed with terror on his face. “I’m no one’s king, Echo. We’re all equal here.”

He is either blind or unwilling to admit the power he wields. If anyone’s been certain of one thing since they reached the Ark, it’s that Bellamy is in charge. It has remained unspoken but it is in every order given and received.

She almost argues but decides to allow him his discretion for now. It doesn’t matter to her as long as it is clear who is in charge. And if unrest ever rose… She would be ready to shield him. As her duty dictates.

“I will be proud to be a part of your clan.” she nods.

He relaxes and squeezes her shoulder. “You already are. I just didn’t think you saw it.”

She averts her eyes, unwilling to disclose more but aware that a month in close proximity – and the five years that would follow – doesn’t allow much privacy. “It is difficult not to belong.”

“You belong.” he insisted, squeezing her shoulder again.

His hand is warm. She can feel it through the thick frayed woolen sweatshirt she had found abandoned in a room. She craved that warmth but she doesn’t quite dare claim it as hers.

Not yet.

Not until his heart stopped bleeding for the one he lost.

She doesn’t like the idea of being the default choice, she will conquer his heart just like she conquered impossible battlefields. It is something to look forward to. Something to hope for the future.

Not yet.

But soon, she thinks.

[mikauzoran]

Adrienette Drabble: Daisy Chapter Thirty-Six: Steps

There’s a Daisy Chapter Thirty-Six: Steps 

His driver Victor scowled. “You want me to take you where, Adrianka?”

Adrien’s Russian really wasn’t the best, so it was conceivable that he had just said something unintelligible. He took a deep breath and slowly repeated, “To the Couffaines’ house? Uh…the family that lives on the boat?”

The cavernous trenches of Victor’s forehead seemed to deepen, if that were truly possible. “Couffaine? That’s that—” A word in Russian that Adrien didn’t know, but it sounded angry and guttural and was mostly likely not a nice thing to be called. “—who made you cry for half a year,” Victor accused.

Adrien winced, switching back to French. “To be fair, Luka wasn’t the one who made me cry. That was my father when he threatened to ruin my friend and his entire family’s lives and careers and make Luka hate me unless I ceased all communication with him. It wasn’t Luka’s fault.”

Victor did not acknowledge Adrien’s clarification. Instead, his meat cleaver-sized hands went to his hips, and he tipped his head to the side with a suspicious frown. “Isn’t he dating little Masha from the bakery now?”

Adrien tried to smile disarmingly as he nodded, but it came out as more of a wounded grimace. “Yes. Yes, Luka and Marinette are dating.”

“And what business do you have going to see the young man dating the girl you like?”

“I was planning on seeing if he wanted to be friends again now that my father is less strict,” Adrien explained feebly.

Victor continued on in Russian. “Your father? Does your father know where you are going?”

“I told him,” Adrien fibbed, switching back to Russian so that if he were found out later, he could blame his inaccuracy on a “misunderstanding” caused by his poor language skills.

Victor leaned forward, bending at the waist to position himself eye to eye with Adrien. He arched an eyebrow. “Oh? You told him where you were going? So, if I go ask him now, he will tell me he has approved your trip to visit the Couffaine boy who broke your heart?”

“Yes,” Adrien insisted, banking on the fact that Victor would never actually go interrupt Gabriel’s work to follow up on Adrien’s lie. “Except Luka didn’t break my heart,” he clarified as an afterthought.

Victor snorted. “You are trying to tell me that you were not heartbroken two years ago?”

A sulky expression leaked through Adrien’s composed mask. “Okay, but that wasn’t Luka’s fault. That was my father’s for ripping me away from a friend who was really important to me.”

Victor nodded in a manner that indicated that he couldn’t care less whose fault it was. “Yes, yes.”

Suddenly a sausage-sized finger was being wagged in Adrien’s face. “Adrianka, I love you dearly, but—” An idiom that Adrien surmised meant something like “so help me God”. “—if I have to listen to you banging on that piano at all hours and sobbing into your pillow when you think no one can hear again…” he trailed off dangerously, crossing his arms over his chest.

Adrien flinched, shrinking as the tips of his ears turned pink.

Victor’s voice softened as he sighed and laid a giant palm on Adrien’s shoulder. “I am sick of Chopin,” he confessed gently. “I am even more sick of listening to you in pain, knowing there is nothing I can do to fix it for you. Do not put yourself in situations where you will be hurt, Adrianka.”

Adrien’s apprehension melted at the warmth and affection in his bodyguard’s words. With a bright smile, he threw his arms as far around Victor’s torso as they would reach, wrapping his steadfast companion in what would have been a crushing hug on anyone else.

“Thanks, Vitya,” he mumbled into Victor’s chest.

Victor sighed again, patting Adrien on the back. “Yes, yes. All right. Yes. Enough with the mushiness. It is nothing. I am simply tired of Chopin. I wish never to hear that brooding man’s melancholy coming from your piano ever again.”

Adrien pulled back and repeated, “Thank you…for caring about me.”

Victor rolled his eyes, affecting indifference and professional stoicism as he patted Adrien on the head. “This is not what I am paid for. This is not in my job description.”

Adrien snickered, amused at the fuss Victor was making all for show. “That’s why it means so much to me that you do care.”

Victor rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “…I am going to ask your father about you seeing this Couffaine boy,” he snorted and then actually turned and took a step towards the atelier.

Adrien’s heart dropped into his stomach. “W-Wait!”

Victor looked back at Adrien, cocking an eyebrow and smirking knowingly. “Why, Adrianka? Surely your father will confirm what you’ve told me, and then we can be on our way. What is the problem?”

Adrien grimaced.

Victor took another step and a half towards the atelier.

“Okay, fine,” Adrien sighed heavily. “You called my bluff. I just said I was meeting a friend; I didn’t say it was Luka, but in my own defence, I am legally an adult, and you guys can’t stop me from going where I want. So there,” Adrien concluded, petulantly crossing his arms in defiance.

Victor stifled a chuckle. “I look at you, and I still see that tiny, blonde, doll-like baby who I used to carry around on my shoulders. Perhaps you’ve grown too big for that now, but you will never grow so much that I stop seeing you as a child in need of my protection and mother-henning. You can be an adult when I’m dead. Until then, you’ll be hard pressed to stop me from throwing you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carting you off to someplace I determine you will be safe.—What does your photographer always say? ‘Capiche’?—Do we understand each other, Adrian Gavrillovich?”

Adrien’s face fell even further, and his arms dropped helplessly to his sides. He nodded dejectedly. “Yes, Vitya…but…I’m going anyway. I mean, I’ll go even if I have to sneak out, but…in case this all blows up in my face and I have a panic attack or emotional breakdown or something…I would really rather you drive me…please?” He peered up pleadingly at his bodyguard with the most pathetic, sad puppy-dog eyes he had in his arsenal.

Victor sighed heavily, scrubbing his face with a massive hand. “…Adrianka, this is not a good idea. Why do you want to do this so soon after you���ve had your heart broken?”

Adrien bit his lip and switched back to French to make certain that he expressed himself clearly. “I think repairing things with Luka will help.”

Victor crossed his arms, but he tipped his head slightly and cocked an eyebrow to show that he was listening.

Adrien took a measured breath and continued, “When I was hanging out with him and his family before, I felt…like I belonged…like I was okay how I was, even though I had a lot of issues. Luka still liked me on my bad days. It didn’t matter if I was crying over a fight with Dad or if I was an anxious wreck over an upcoming fencing tournament or piano recital. Whatever I was feeling was fine. Whenever I was in good spirits, we’d hang out and have fun, but whenever I was a mess, he’d sit with me and let me cry, comfort me, help me to talk it out. …I think I could really use a friend like that in my life right now. Everyone else has been great,” Adrien rushed to assure, “but Luka always seemed to get me…and it couldn’t hurt to have another friend, could it?”

Victor pursed his lips, weighing Adrien’s arguments. “What if he’s changed? What if he’s not the boy you knew anymore?”

Adrien frowned, caught off guard momentarily. “He…It didn’t seem like he’d changed much the other night when I saw him at Chloé’s party. And he texted me yesterday to apologize for the misunderstanding and make sure I was okay. I’m sure he’s not exactly the same, but I can’t imagine Luka changing all that drastically in just two years.”

Victor shook his head slowly. “Adrianka, perhaps under normal circumstances it would be good for you to rekindle your friendship with the Couffaine boy now that your father is easing up on restrictions, but I do not see this going well, you trying to befriend the boy that the girl you like chose over you. This ends poorly.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Adrien gently insisted. “I think being friends with Marinette’s boyfriend could be a good thing.”

Victor gave Adrien a look that said that he thought Adrien was delusional, but Victor did not verbally respond, letting Adrien continue.

Adrien let out a soft, frustrated sigh and forged forward. “Look, ever since things first blew up with Marinette, my friend group has been divided. Alya has been trying to split her time between us, but the reality is that she’s Marinette’s best friend, so she feels like she has to be on Marinette’s ‘side’, so I’ve hardly seen Alya in two months. I don’t want there to be ‘sides’. I don’t want to cause a rift. I don’t want to not be invited to things because Luka and Marinette are going to be there. Sunday was Marinette’s graduation party, and she didn’t invite me. She didn’t even tell me about it because—I don’t know—maybe it was because Luka was going to be there and she wasn’t ready to tell me they were dating. Maybe it was because she still needed space or whatever, but the point is that I was excluded because of the mess between me and Marinette.” His voice dipped low, cracking.

His gaze dropped to the floor. “That’s not a good feeling. I don’t know how many other graduation parties I wasn’t invited to because of this, but I don’t want to be left out any more than I already am. If I’m friends with Luka, if everybody can see that things are okay, that there doesn’t have to be an Adrien side and a Marinette side, maybe things can slowly go back to normal. Maybe being friends with Luka will help me be friends with Marinette again too. I just…” Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet Victor’s gaze imploringly. “More than anything, I want some kind of normal again.”

Victor nodded slowly, resignedly, a look of deep compassion in his eyes. “I don’t know that this is the way to go about it, but…I’m not about to let you go alone to find out the hard way that this is a bad idea. I wouldn’t want you getting upset and falling off a roof on your way back. I don’t trust that suit of yours to protect you.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he realized that of course Victor knew. The man had only spent the better part of nearly every day of the past decade within shouting distance of Adrien. Victor would have been a poor bodyguard if he hadn’t picked up on his charge’s secret.

“Go wait around front, Adrianka,” Victor instructed, giving Adrien a gentle pat on the head. “I’ll bring the car around, but if this goes badly and your father asks why I took you, I’m going to—” An idiomatic expression that Adrien did not understand but surmised from context to mean something like “throw you under the bus”. “—and tell him you swore up and down that you had his express permission to go.”

“I think I can live with that,” Adrien snickered and started to make his way out front to wait.

 “Forgive me,” Nooroo’s disembodied voice whispered from inside Adrien’s right shoulder as they waited for Victor to bring the car. “but yesterday I thought that you told Ladybug that you did not wish to be her friend any longer and needed some space and some time.”

Adrien blinked, frowning down in confusion at the offending shoulder as he fiddled with his ring and readjusted his tie. “Yeah? What about it?” he whispered back gently.

“Just now, you told your guard that you wanted to rekindle your friendship with Monsieur Couffaine so that it would facilitate rebuilding your friendship with Miss Dupain-Cheng. I am just a little confused about this development. Do we wish to be friends with Miss Dupain-Cheng now?”

A florid blush burst forth on Adrien’s cheeks, and he looked away, mumbling, “No. Not right now, no.”

“He just knows he’s going to change his mind,” Plagg snickered helpfully from within Adrien’s left shoulder.

“I’m allowed to change my mind if I want,” Adrien grumbled sullenly. “Human beings often say one thing and then turn around and do another. It’s not that I have changed my mind…just that I can.”

“Of course you can,” Plagg agreed more gently, easing up on his chosen.

“Of course, Adrien-bocchama,” Nooroo echoed.

Adrien took a deep breath, trying to re-center himself. “For right now, though, I’d kind of like to focus on the task at hand. I’m not one hundred percent certain what’s going to happen with Luka, and I’d like to concentrate on him before I really start thinking about the dizzying prospect of being just friends with the girl I am madly in love with.”