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verfound · 13 hours
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verfound · 4 days
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If you were to write Adrien in a non-salt way, how would you do it?
I suppose I opened myself up for this, with that SSS I just posted, but here we go again. 🙃
I don't consider the way I write Adrien as "salt". I understand how it can be viewed that way by his fans (which it's no secret I am not), but "salt" has such a sticky definition in this fandom anymore. Salt doesn't actually exist; if you don't like something, no matter how valid your reasoning is, it's "salt". You're not even allowed to fall back on "I just don't like it" without having a sound moral argument anymore. Any negative comment is grounds for calling "salt", and I don't have the time or mental energy to deal with such petty bullshit.
I don't consider it salt to be presented with certain characteristics in canon and then run with them. I don't consider myself a salt writer. Every time I've written Adrien, the basis for his character is exactly what we're presented in canon: pushy, manipulative, clingy, etc. If that's not your cup of tea, you can move on. There are plenty of people willing to write "sugar" pieces about him - you won't be missed around here, and you'll be happier with your options. Everybody wins that way. The internet is what you make it; cultivate your own experience with things that don't piss you off.
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verfound · 4 days
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Some Sentences Sunday: 03.24.24
“Thanks!” Adrien said, all sunshine smiles, as he pulled Marinette into the hotel behind him.  He turned to her as Luka stood there, watching, still holding the door open behind them.  His expression seemed to fall as he started fretting over Marinette, trying to help her fix her hair even as she tried to bat his hands away.  “I’m so sorry, milady!  The weather said clear skies, I swear!”
“It’s…it’s fine,” she said, taking a step back – that was completely irrelevant as Adrien took a step closer.  “I just…I’m gonna…you go get our table.  I need to…”
“C’mon,” Luka said, stepping up behind her and laying a hand on her shoulder.  She jumped and gawked up at him like she was only just realizing he was there.  He glanced at Adrien and offered the boy a tight-lipped smile.  “My family’s staying upstairs.  She can freshen up in my sister’s bathroom.”
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verfound · 5 days
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The best part about love is that there are two people involved in the creation. He starts it, and Marinette finishes it.
The love he does feel isn’t unlike a song. It has its own tune, its own lyrics.
Luka has always been fascinated by the latter — it’s interesting, he thinks, how emphasizing just one word can change the entire meaning of a sentence.
“I love you,” Marinette says to him. “I love you.”
He says, “I know.” 
He says, “I love you, too.”
What she doesn’t say is this: “I love you. You, Luka Couffaine. You and only you.”
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verfound · 5 days
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you know what? i actually fucking love being a writer. truly. i adore it. doesn’t matter if my stuff is good enough for others. i literally have the ability to create ANY fucking story i want to read.
if i can’t find a story with a specific kink or dynamics? i can write it myself.
if i want my characters to look or sound a certain way and no one else likes/writes it? i can write it myself.
and the coolest thing is that no matter what i write, i will still find at least one person who has been looking for exact same thing and we will enjoy it together.
writing is so fucking badass.
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verfound · 5 days
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“How’s your WIP going?”
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"Have you made any progress?”
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“How close are you to being done?”
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verfound · 6 days
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full offense but none of you would have ever survived fanfiction.net in 2009
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verfound · 7 days
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WHO LET HIM COOK
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verfound · 8 days
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The number of times Tumblr still recs Adrichat posts even though I have every form of this boy blocked 🙃
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verfound · 8 days
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WIP Wednesday: 03.20.2024
The full scene from last Sunday 😇
Marinette had a soulmate.
Luka stared at the dark pink words on his arm, swallowing thickly as the words rattled around in his head.  It didn’t matter if she didn’t know them.  She had still found them, at least once, and they were out there, somewhere, waiting to find their fairy again.  She’d met them years ago.
…Luka didn’t even remember the last time he’d been in the city.  He had been what?  Three, four when they’d left?  Definitely not long enough to find his soulmate, and he’d only had his words for a few months now besides.
Still.
He had hoped…
That day had been so crazy.  It was only a few weeks into the school year, but there had been a delay and their flight had gotten in late.  The mayor’s daughter was supposed to show them around the school, but even though Chloé Bourgeois always seemed to be sniffing around for social clout apparently Jagged Stone’s kids had nothing on the model son of Gabriel Agreste, some big wig fashion somebody.  She had ditched them the moment she had spotted the model’s golden hair glinting in the sun, and Juleka and him had been left to figure out the bustling campus of Françoise Dupont themselves.
Which was fine.  They were used to being ditched.  Fending for themselves.  That’s what happened when your dad tended to be too famous to bother with you.
But just because Chloé hadn’t been interested in the Rock Giant’s kids didn’t mean others – nearly everyone else – wasn’t.  There had been so many people that day, and it had all been a little overwhelming.  They had been swarmed, because even though Penny had always done her best to keep them out of the spotlight everyone knew Jagged Stone’s kids.  Penny was good, but there was only so much even someone as good as Penny could do.
He’d lost track of how many people had spoken to him that day, vying for introductions and trying to suck up in the hopes of meeting his famous dad.  When they’d finally gotten home and he’d shrugged off his hoodie, he’d been shocked to find the words glimmering on his arm.
Thank you.
They were so…so…generic.  There was nothing special or unique about them, and they could have come from anyone.  There was nothing about them that made any one person stand out, even if one person that day had stood out.
The cute 5ème girl, the one he would later learn was friends with his sister’s soulmate, from the library.  He’d been waiting for the librarian at the desk when he’d seen her struggling to reach something on a top shelf, and he had gone to help.
“Here, let me help,” he’d said, laying a hand on her shoulder as he’d reached above them to snatch the book she’d wanted.
“Th-th-thank you,” she’d squeaked, staring up at him with impossibly blue eyes and the prettiest blush he’d ever seen dusting her cheeks.
He had hoped…he had really hoped…but he hadn’t said anything about fairies, so there was no way the thank you burned into his arm could be hers.  His first words had been an offer of assistance, not a greeting.
And now he knew she already had a soulmate.
Someone she had met long before he’d ever come into the picture.
…he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed.  Marinette was an amazing girl with a beautiful song.  He hadn’t been able to get her song – to get her – out of his head since that first day, and even if she was sometimes shy and anxious around him, they had struck up an easy friendship – one that had quickly turned into an easy crush, at least for him.
But Marinette, like Rose, was a romantic.  She firmly believed in all that soulmate stuff, and why shouldn’t she?  She’d had her words for years.
He was happy for her.  He was.
He tugged his hoodie back on, not really wanting to see those taunting pink words anymore.  Either way, their very existence let him know that his soulmate was somewhere in Paris.  At his new school.
…he just…was it so wrong, wishing that that someone was Marinette?
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verfound · 11 days
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Psych – 5.10: Extradition II: The Actual Extradition Part
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verfound · 11 days
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Six Sentence Sunday: 03.17.2024
This is @rierse 's fault, because in true LBSC fashion, even from her deathbed she's viciously lobbing plunnies at her poor, unsuspecting friends. 😝 (Love you feel better soon 🖤😘)
[Luka] had lost track of how many people had spoken to him that day, vying for introductions and trying to suck up in the hopes of meeting his famous dad.  When they’d finally gotten home and he’d shrugged off his hoodie, he’d been shocked to find the words glimmering on his arm.
Thank you.
They were so…so…generic.  There was nothing special or unique about them, and they could have come from anyone.  There was nothing about them that made any one person stand out, even if one person that day had stood out.
The cute 5ème girl, the one he would later learn was friends with his sister’s soulmate, from the library.
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verfound · 15 days
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this is what i mean when i type 👀 btw
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verfound · 16 days
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Chords and Courtship ch 12
Spring, Recomposed
Chords and Courtship (AO3)
If you want a longer version of the song, here's a one hour loop version.
Hello everyone! I know it's been a very, very, very long time since I've updated this. When this story went on hiatus, I thought it would be a matter of a few months. Obviously, things didn't quite work out that way... But I've decided to come back to this story before finishing Juleka vs. the Forces of the Universe because quite frankly, I need to go where the inspiration is. And right now, the inspiration is hitting me with this story.
I unfortunately can't give any estimates on when the next chapter (for this and all my other stories) will be up, but I promise I haven't forgotten about any of them.
To those of you who have been with this story since the start, thank you so much for your patience and support. And to all reading, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
The room swirled around him in a dizzying array of colour and light, blending until they were so much like the watercolours Marinette had been paining with when he had stumbled upon her and Juleka having tea in the gardens for a second time. Everything was soft and hazy.
Except her eyes. 
Her eyes, vivid and sparkling, were the epicentre of everything. They were steadying and grounding, yet dizzying in their own way. 
She beamed up at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling in the most captivating way, and he stumbled over a step. He had been stumbling over himself for what seemed the entire evening, since the moment he had seen her drift into the ballroom in her ethereal white gown that made her look like an angel. Or a faerie from the poetry Jules liked to read and write. She looked beautiful in white. She looked beautiful in anything. But the image had been made all the sweeter by the lilac sash at her waist, and the ribbon lilacs once again adorning her hair.  
He could almost smell the sweet perfume of lilacs, bringing him back to that moment in the woods, when he had blurted out an open invitation to his heart. To that moment he had no longer been able to deny that his world had shifted. Was that what it had been like for Eros, when he had first met Psyche? Or when Eurydice had first heard Orpheus play? 
“Are you thinking of a new song, Luka?” Marinette asked, a little breathlessly from the skipping steps. “You look as if you are hearing music. Music other than what is playing,” she added with a small laugh. 
He could not blame his own breathlessness entirely on the dance. “I am.” 
Her smile grew even brighter at his words. “I hope I will hear it, once you have it.”
“I promise,” he said as they skipped up and back down the line of dancers, “you will.” 
Even as the music guided their steps, music of their dance was swirling in his mind. The dips as they parted to spin with their neighbours, and the soaring notes with every reunion. With every spin, skip, and step, the music wrapped itself around his mind, settling into the very depths of his soul. 
He was guiding her through another pirouette, when and a prickling sensation along the back of his neck pulled his gaze from Marinette’s eyes and bobbing curls to the spectators crowded by the edges of the dance floor.  
Mme. Graham de Vanily’s face was stony, and there was something cold and calculated in her eyes. Her eyes were unnervingly similar to Felix’s. He strained his ears, trying to pick out the sound of her heart from the cacophony of the crowd. But what traces he could hear were slippery, and intent on eluding him. Her face suddenly shifted into a syrupy, sickly sweet smile as her eyes met his- 
The way she had been looking at him- the way her eyes had so suddenly shifted- the notes of a song he couldn’t quite hear from across the room- 
His foot—which Kaalki still deemed to be a second left foot—travelled a little too far for the step, and suddenly he found himself stumbling and tripping over both of his feet to correct himself. 
Marinette laughed lightly as he rushed to right himself, leaning a little closer into him to steady him. And then they were off again, skipping across the floor of the Graham de Vanily ballroom. He had been… surprised would not be the right word, as it would have been a social snub that would have certainly caused gossip in the village if Felix had not invited him to his family’s ball. So while the invitation had been expected in that sense, he had had some trepidation about the invitation. A sense of general unease had settled over his shoulders when he had been handed the invitation, and it had returned as he had entered through the grand doors of the Graham de Vanily estate. 
The home was a grand place, lavish with marble and dripping crystal  The most up to date and expensive decor, like the apartments of the aristocracy in so many of the cities he had played in, left the impression of great style. But it had felt empty and oppressive. The house held a general air about it of grandeur; it was as if the house was trying to remind its visitors of their insignificance in comparison to it and its inhabitants.  
And its inhabitants…. 
Felix had greeted him with cool disdain under his guise of manners and propriety. But his facade had not been able to hide the coldness in Felix’s eyes as he had attempted to look down his nose at him. A difficult feat given he was half a head taller than Felix. It was not until he had turned to greet Mme. Graham de Vanily that his unease had grown. He had turned from Felix to find her watching him with calculating eyes and a saccharine smile. She had been perfectly polite, and in contrast to her son, seemed a warm and welcoming hostess. But something- 
“Luka?” 
Marinette’s voice shook him from his thoughts, and he snapped his attention away from Mme. Graham de Vanily to focus on her. Her brows were furrowed, a little crease of worry forming between them.
“Is everything alright?” The way she squeezed his hand as she asked, so gently but strong at the same time was almost enough to send him stumbling again. What was he doing, letting himself be distracted and unnerved by Felix and his mother? He knew Felix did not care for him, he had felt the daggers of his eyes in his back ever since he had arrived, sharpened by the fact that he had beaten his host to asking Marinette for the first dance and the last waltz of the night. And given Felix held no love for him, it was of no great surprise that Mme. Graham de Vanily would be… off-putting. 
“Everything is fine.” Marinette’s brows were still furrowed. “I just had a thought, something that didn’t quite fit the song. Nothing to worry about,” he said, hoping to convince himself as much as Marinette. 
Her face melted into a smile, and all he could do was chastise himself again for ever letting such thoughts cloud the light of the evening. 
***
She did her best to suppress her smile as she took a bite of her bread, but it was difficult not to smile at the silly joke her papa had just told. And if it was difficult not to laugh at her papa’s joke… well, then it was impossible not to smile at the way the corners of Luka’s eyes crinkled as he laughed heartily. 
Ever since his ball, her parents had been quite vocal in their approval of Luka. She had been… not worried per se, but she would be a liar to deny that she had felt some anxiety. What if her parents had not liked Luka? What if he had not liked them? Those whispered thoughts had been quickly silenced at the ball, when she had seen the way her papa clapped Luka on the back from across the ballroom. And now… 
She couldn’t help but laugh at herself for ever having had such anxieties. 
Especially now… this was the third time she and her parents were dining with Luka and Juleka, and it seemed her parents approval and fondness of the Couffaine’s grew with every shared breaking of bread.  
“And so,” he papa continued with his story, his soup seemingly entirely forgotten as he regaled them all with tales from the day to day running of the bakery. Many of which he had… embellished. Or as he would say, decorated. ‘Even the best tasting cake is sweeter with an added touch here and there,’ was what he always said whenever her maman pointed out that things hadn’t happened quite the way he told them. “There I was, with ten dozen profiteroles in the kitchen, half of them already filled when I realized that the order had been for five dozen profiteroles.” 
“That sounds like quite the conundrum,” Luka laughed. It was a genuine laugh too, not the polite and indifferent smile of someone who was only humouring her papa’s tales. Beside her, Juleka’s quiet chuckle joined Luka’s laughter. 
“It sounds like the time Luka mistook a request for a song written for a string quartet for an entire symphony. You should have seen the Duke’s face,” Juleka laughed quietly as her papa laughed himself into a fresh tale. One of exaggerated proportions like all the rest. 
She looked down at her bowl as she took a sip of her soup, and when she glanced up, she caught Sass’s eye.   
It was always an odd sensation, to be waited upon. Neither she nor her parents were used to it. Whenever she was at the Agreste manor, she could never shake the discomfort of being waited on. But from the night in the music room, and again earlier this evening when Luka and Juleka had both seemed almost surprised themselves when their staff had started to wait on them, she had come to suspect that perhaps they were not used to it themselves. 
Sass’s face was the impassively neutral look every butler she had ever met wore. But when he caught her eye, a genuine smile flashed in his eyes and he shot her a subtle wink as he made a show of smothering a laugh at another one of her papa’s terrible jokes.  
Laughing, she turned her attention back to the- not the conversation. It would not even be fair to say she returned her attention back to the table. 
Her attention was wholly focused on Luka; on the way his eyes sparkled with laughter as he quipped with her father and the way his melodic laugh warmed the room. Her mind drifted back to the way he had greeted her mother with a courteous smile that had been so warm and guanine. The way he listened so closely to everything that was said, regardless of whether it was her, her parents, or his sister who had spoken.
In the warm and cozy glow of the candlelit dining room, she was lost somewhere between the past and the present. And perhaps, she wasn’t lost only in the past and present; it felt… More than anything, it felt like home. And perhaps, more than the past and present, it felt like… 
Luka glanced her way once again as he laughed at something her papa had just said, though she was not sure what it was he had said. His words had been lost to the dreamlike quality of the room; everything felt so far away and fuzzy around the edges. Like a waking dream. 
Everything, except Luka. 
The moment his eyes caught hers, it was like time, which was already so muddled about, slowed. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he was a magician, the way he always seemed to make time slow around them. 
His bright smile softened into something altogether more private. His eyes were still glimmering and sparkling, but even their light had softened to a gentle glow. Her cheeks warmed as her own smile spread across her face. If she had been lost in the moment before… she was truly lost in his eyes. 
And yet, even lost in his eyes things had never been clearer. 
“…what do you think, Marinette dear?” 
She jumped at the sound of her mother’s voice. Turning in her seat, she found her mother watching her with a sly grin, one which, to her utmost mortification, was mirrored on her papa’s face. Suddenly, her cheeks were aflame with an entirely different sort of heat. Her eyes darted back to Luka, whose face and ears were suddenly glowing an unexpectedly becoming shade of pink. 
A quiet voice broke the silence that had come to, at least on her part, awkwardly hang in the air.“I do believe that croquembouche is rather the trend, now.” Slowly, she turned the other direction in her seat to find Juleka, quiet and shy Juleka, smiling slyly as she swirled her spoon in her soup thoughtfully.“At least, that is what was served at the society weddings in Paris,” she added with a smirk sent in Luka’s direction. 
“Jules!” Luka’s voice was closer in tone to that of a squawk. 
“I am merely saying, brother…” 
Juleka’s words trailed off to hang smugly in the air. 
And then… 
“I knew I liked you, Mlle. Couffaine,” her papa said before throwing his head back in a roar of laughter. 
“Yes,” her maman added with laughter of her own, “I can see why Marinette has been enjoying spending time with you both.” 
Her cheeks were flaming as her parents and Juleka’s laughter rang through the air. Even Sass was chuckling. The start of a groan began to escape her, but then, once more she turned to find Luka looking at her from across the table. Even with the heat of embarrassment warming her face, and his as well, she could not help but smile once more. 
***
“In some ways, I suppose it’s a good thing it’s raining,” Luka said quietly as they trailed behind Nooroo. “Nooroo is too shy to admit it, but he’s been hoping for you to see the orangery and to hear your thoughts on it.” 
She couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Since her tea in the gardens with Juleka and her unexpected stay at the estate the night of the storm, she had met Nooroo twice more. He had been as fluttery and shy as when she first met him, but his kindness shone through in his every mannerism, from the way he spoke of each plant in the gardens he tended to, to the way he described his plans for the gardens. 
“I’m looking forward to seeing it,” she replied, just as quietly before sharing a private smile with Luka. She would never grow tired of the way his eyes crinkled at the corners every time he smiled. Nor would she ever grow tired of the way his hair always seemed to escape his obvious efforts to comb and tidy it, to sweep across his forehead. And the way it tempted her to brush it from his eyes…
“I hope you will love it in here, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng,” Nooroo said shyly as he pushed open a heavy looking set of doors. 
Luka smiled at her before leading her into the room after Nooroo. 
The first thing that struck her was the humidity and warmth; while it was warm and there was noticeable moisture in the air, it was not stifling or unpleasant. The second thing that struck her was the smell. The fresh scent of greenery and flowers and the richness of soil was undercut by a bright and citrusy scent. 
She gazed at the room in wonder. Three of the walls were almost entirely made of glass, letting the bright grey light of the drizzly day light the room. Neatly planted in wide beds, organized neatly into rows, were trees abundant with leaves, blossoms, and the green beginnings of small fruits. Other plants, some that she recognized, others that she didn’t know at all also occupied the room. Small white flowers she recognized as jasmine climbed along trellises attached to the wall of the house proper. From somewhere deeper in the conservatory, she could hear the trickling of water in a fountain. In the very centre of the room, there was a break in the rows of trees to form a circular clearing with a table and chairs. 
The table was set with china. Kaalki was placing a teapot on the table, while Juleka and Sass stood by the table, deep in conversation. Juleka was holding a small, black notebook and she was nodding at what Sass was saying. 
“What do you think?” Luka asked quietly. 
“It’s wonderful,” she murmured, letting go of his arm to take a few steps further into the room. She had never seen anything like it.  
***
Their tea had already gone to dregs twice, and they still had not run out of things to discuss. She had traded stories of growing up in the bakery and all her favourite, secret places amongst the meadows and hills for stories of their childhood in the highlands and their travels across the continent and beyond. Juleka had told her of some of her writing, and had offered an extensive list of novels and poetry collections she might like to borrow from their library, and she had promised her new friend they would make another day of painting and writing in the gardens.
And Luka… 
When she had mentioned offhandedly how she wished she could hear the symphony he was composing for King Ali, he had played for them- for her. Bashfully, and with an endearing flush to his face, he had played a small piece from the symphony he was working on on a violin Sass had brought in from the music room. He had told her the night of Felix’s ball that words often evaded him, or complicated his meaning. That music was his first language. And though she had never found his words left her doubting, she fully understood. 
His music transcended language. 
Every time she heard him play, it was like the world was waking up. The melody had painted spring skies and rolling meadows with perfect clarity. Around them, the colours had seemed somehow softer and brighter in the music. And she had sworn the flowers climbing the trellises along the walls had bloomed a little brighter when he had begun to play. 
Though he had only played a small piece, she knew that  King Ali- that any king would be lucky to have such a symphony composed and performed for them.  
And when he set his violin aside, she had not been able to help but think of how everyone at the assembly halls had been so disappointed when he had returned the instrument to its original owner. And how foolish they had all been. For everything that his music was, and all that it filled the world with, it all came from him. 
It was him. 
There was music in everything he did; it was in the cadence of his voice as he told stories and jokes, in his quiet laughter and attentive eyes as she told stories and jokes of her own. It was even in his half-exasperated sighs when Juleka prodded him with affectionate teasing. 
“Duusuu thought you all might like some more tea sandwiches,” a cheery voice said, cutting into the pause between Luka’s words as he recounted a story of their childhood dog. She turned to look as the rosy cheeked girl she had come to recognize as Daizzi place a plate piled high with more finger sandwiches on the table between them. As she always seemed to be whenever she saw her, Daizzi seemed to be holding back giggles. And where Daizzi went… 
“And more tea for you,” Mullo said, her voice tinged with the giggles that always seemed to permeate the air around the two girls. Mullo slid a new teapot on the table before picking up the empty one. 
“Thank you,” she said, smiling at them both. For some reason, both girls seemed to find her thanking them uproariously funny, because both burst into familiar giggles. 
“Thank you, Daizzi. Mullo.” Luka half-sighed, which only make the girls erupt into more giggles as they both bobbed curtsies and them turned to leave, giggling as they made their way out. 
“You’ll have to excuse them,” Juleka said, poorly concealed laughter of her own colouring her voice. “More tea?” 
“Yes, please,” she said, turning back to Luka and Juleka. 
“Luka, you can pour,” Juleka said with a nod, the corners of her eyes still crinkled with laughter.  
“I like them,” she said as Luka, his cheeks dusted again with a flush, began pouring the tea. “They’re…” her mind drifted to M. Agreste’s housekeeper Mme. Sancouer and her chilly gaze, and Felix’s frigid and silent staff members whose names she didn’t even know because they refused to speak to her. “They’re warm. They’re like a family.” 
“They are our family,” Luka said, notes of affection overpowering the traces of bashfulness in his voice. 
She smiled thoughtfully at the china on the table, none of which matched. But that suited Luka and Juleka perfectly. Just as the way their staff was their family suited them all so perfectly. 
“How did they come to be your family- what I mean to say is,” she hurried to clarify, “how did you all meet? If I may ask.” 
Luka smiled. “We met most of them on our travels with James, and then on our own travels. Sass joined us when I was- I would have been twelve.” Juleka nodded in agreement. “He started as my, well, our tutor. We met him in Budapest, he had been studying at the Budapest University of Technology and Economics, but the funding for his research had been cut and he could no longer support himself. But he detested putting his skills to use in the banks and no one wanted to hire a penniless nineteen year old student for an engineering position. So when he met us by happy coincidence, he joined us. We met Nooroo in Switzerland…” 
She listened with rapt attention as he laid out the stories—with interjections from Juleka to correct and confirm details— of how they had found a family of their own throughout their years travelling. They went through another pot of tea as they recounted the adventures that had brought them all together from every corner of the continent and beyond. How they had all come to join their odd yet beautiful, and ever growing family from all walks of life. 
All but one. 
“What about Kaalki?” she asked quietly. Luka and Juleka had described how they had met all of their staff- their family, even those she hadn’t yet met. Except for Kaalki. Of its own accord, her gaze drifted towards the door to the orangery, and Sass and Kaalki’s retreating figures. Sass, with Luka’s violin tucked carefully in his arm and the empty sandwich plate in his other hand, was already at the door. Hiss tall and lean form was outlined by the door he was holding ajar as he looked back at Kaalki. Kaalki… her brows furrowed as she took in the wistful and… almost forlorn way Kaalki was lingering by the orange tree closest to the door. Her tray with the empty teapot was balanced effortlessly in one hand as she brushed the leaves on the tree. Before she could try to make sense of the look on Kaalki’s face, or the way the housekeeper who always seemed so set on propriety despite how relaxed Luka and Juleka were, lingered, Kaalki shook her head and continued her way towards the door, her dark curls bouncing primly. She watched as Sass bent to murmur something to Kaalki as she passed him, to which Kaalki nodded before they both disappeared through the door. “She…” she hesitated, “she looked sad just now. Is everything all right?” 
“The orangery reminds her of home sometimes. We met her in Achu,” Juleka explained.  
“It was hard for her to leave, she was only sixteen and, well, she does not like to dwell on it.” The way he was so careful with Kaalki’s story, and respectful and sensitive to Kaalki’s privacy, she couldn’t help falling a little bit more in love with him. “She’s been with us almost as long as Sass, we met her a I believe it was three months after Sass joined us?” Luka looked to Juleka, who nodded. “She started as Juleka’s governess-”
“Though she did insist on taking over Luka’s instruction in deportment,” Juleka said with a mischievous smile. 
Luka groaned, shaking his head at whatever memories had been dredged up. “What was it she had said?“ he asked with rueful laughter in his voice. 
“M. Stone, if you are intending to have Luka play in every court of Europe one day, he simply must be able to tell the difference between a fish and dessert fork,” Juleka laughed. She found herself laughing as well; Juleka had perfectly mimicked Kaalki’s prim cadence. 
“She also took over our instruction in languages,” Luka continued. “And when Jules no longer had need for a governess, she took on the of housekeeper. I think the role suits her rather well. Perhaps too well sometimes…” 
“And she is still able to tutor Luka in his deportment lessons,” Juleka snickered. “And his dancing.” 
There must have been some hidden joke in Juleka’s words, because Luka’s face flushed. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He was so honest with his feelings, so sincere. And though he did not fluster as easily as she did, she would be lying if she denied she enjoyed having someone be flustered in her presence, given how often she was the one blushing. 
As if reading her thoughts, Juleka turned from Luka to catch her eye, and smiled a smile that was somehow so sweetly devious, it left her blushing without her friend even needing to utter a word.  
“They are lucky to have you- you are all lucky to have each other. I can see how much they love you both.” It was true; if it wasn’t plain enough how much Luka and Juleka cared for their family from the way they spoke of them, it was clear from the way the staff were so friendly and familiar with them. More than anything, it was clear from the warmth that the estate was brimming with. 
It reminded her of her own home. And her own family. 
“They’re rather fond of you, as well Marinette.” 
Something in Juleka’s voice made fresh heat flood her cheeks. She glanced at Juleka, who was daintily sipping from her tea cup. It wasn't possible to smirk while sipping tea so primly. Yet she could not shake the feeling that somehow, Juleka was smirking.
And yet, it felt so different from the teasing she endured from Alya, which erred too far so easily and so often. There was something… warm about it. Whereas Alya’s teasing often came at her expense, particularly what it came to her stumbling words and two left feet, Juleka’s teasing and her word’s implications… She had never had a sister before, but she imagined this is what it would feel like, to have a sister who teased her. 
Privately, on many occasions she had thought that she would rather like having Juleka as a sister. And those occasions were growing more frequent with very passing day. 
She glanced back at Luka, and her face warmed again for an entirely different reason. His cheeks and ears were still aglow, and there were still traces of embarrassment around the corners of his smile. But as his eyes met hers, the last traces of embarrassment fled his face, and the brightness of laughter in his eyes was replaced by something altogether sweeter. Something that tugged at her heartstrings.   
And for a moment, she swore she heard music the way Luka did.
***
The rain had long since stopped, leaving the world fresh and glowing in the late afternoon sun as she walked home. Luka had offered her a ride home in their carriage, but ever since the storm, she had found her fondness for the smell of fresh rain had grown. She had not wanted to waste such a beautiful walk home. 
And perhaps, she had wanted a moment of privacy to let her giddy laughter and smiles escape her with no one but the sun and clouds and the flowers and creatures of the meadow bear witness. She still could not believe how late in the day it was; their tea had gone on for well over four hours. And yet, it could have been mere minutes, the way the time passed so blissfully. 
She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the rain on the grass and flowers. Sighing, she smiled up at the sky. A flock of warbles flew across the sky, singing their hearts out as if they were sharing in her joy. 
“Marinette!” She snapped her head to look to the side at the sound of the familiar voice. Alya was hurrying towards her, waving her hand to catch her attention. “Marinette, wait for me!” She watched apprehensively as Alya approached, unable to keep herself from biting her lip. “Marinette,” Alya puffed as she tried to catch her breath, “I’ve been looking all over for you.” 
“I’ve been-” 
“At the Couffaine’s. I know.” 
She frowned at the note in Alya’s voice. The one that was somehow both a demand and a reprimand at once. “I was having tea,” she said tersely. Ever since she had run out of Adrien’s sitting room and into the storm, there had been an unspoken tension between her and Alya. Alya had been relieved that she had been alright. But that had not stopped Alya from pointing out that if she hadn’t run out into the storm, she would have spent the night at the Agreste’s instead of the Couffaine’s.    
“But your mother said you left for tea at noon,” Alya said as she linked their arms. “What could M. Couffaine possibly have to talk about for that long besides music?” Alya added with a laugh as she began to walk forward, pulling her along. “And his sister. She’s so quiet- I barely got ten words from her at their ball-”
“Plenty,” she said, cutting Alya off. “The conversation did not leave me wanting.”
Alya turned to eye her. “Well, I suppose you were able to keep the conversation going. Though for that long? I was waiting for you, you know.” 
“You were?” She and Alya hadn’t had any plans together today. Perhaps she was a bad friend for it, but she had been avoiding spending time with Alya—just Alya—lately. They had spent time together with the rest of their friends, but they hadn’t spent much time in just each other’s company as of late. 
“Of course I was!” Alya laughed, tugging her along to continue walking towards the village. She hadn’t even realized she had stopped until Alya tugged on her arm. “I had it all planned. Adrien and Nino went out for a ride early this afternoon after the rain stopped, and you and I were going to have a picnic. Then, they would come across us and join us. I even had the perfect spot planned, it’s so incredibly romantic!” Irritation and an unexpected protectiveness surged through her. Alya had gone ahead and made plans again without consulting her or even asking her if she was available. And the thought that Alya might have tried to plan a romantic set up between her and Adrien in the lilac woods- in her and Luka’s woods… “You know the hill that overlooks the village, the view is so beautiful, it would have been so romantic. It would have been perfect.”
At least the lilac woods hadn’t been sullied by Alya’s schemes. But that small comfort did little to quell her irritation. 
“But Nino said he’ll convince Adrien to go out for an evening ride…” 
Alya had not once consulted her on her ill-fated schemes. 
Alya had not once truly apologized for all the times the plots had gone wrong. 
Alya had not once asked her if she still wanted to try and win Adrien’s affections. 
Alya had not once noticed how things had changed, how happy she had been since Luka came into her life. 
“…just think, a sunset picnic would be even more romantic than and afternoon-”
She stopped short, yet again. But this time, she pulled her arm free from Alya’s, cutting her friend’s words off without uttering a sound. 
Alya turned to look at her, confusion clear across her face. “Marinette?” 
Her nails were biting into her palms, her fisted hands shaking ever so much. “No.” She could not remember the last time she had told Alya no. 
It seemed Alya didn’t remember either. Her friend stared at her, flabbergasted. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” 
“I don’t want to go out on a picnic.” 
Alya stared at her incredulously, but then she began to laugh. “I suppose if you had tea that lasted that long you would not be particularly hungry,” Alya laughed, all traces of worry gone. “We can do it tomorrow evening then. That might be better, actually. Then the ground will be fully dry.”  
Alya had just accepted- assumed that she did not want to go on a picnic because she was not hungry. And yet again, Alya had made a new plan without consulting her, or even asking her. 
“I have a prior engagement for dinner tomorrow,” she said coolly. Her papa had insisted that Luka and Juleka dine at the bakery, and neither of the Couffaine’s had been particularly hard pressed to accept. Especially with her papa’s promise of his famous quiche. 
“Well then, we do it- no, the night after is the assembly halls… then we do it the night after the assembly halls.” She opened her mouth, a protest barely past her lips when Alya narrowed her eyes. “Or do you have another engagement that evening as well? You have had many plans recently,” Alya said pointedly. 
It was true, she was expecting she and Luke or perhaps she and Juleka would make arrangements to spend time in each other’s company. They would be leaving for Achu soon, and she wanted to spend as much time with them, with Luka, as she could before they left. But more than that… “I don’t want to go on a picnic with Adrien.” 
“Of course you do-” 
“I do not!” 
Alya stared at her.”Very well, then what would you like to do with Adrien?” 
“Nothing. There are other things I wish to spend my time on. Other people I wish to spend my time with. And I don’t want any more of your plots or schemes.”
Alya stared at her incredulously. And then, the familiar look of pensive frustration —the one Alya bore when things did not go according to her plans and she was trying to tangle out the reason why—crossed her face. “The dancing… all the outings… the teas and dinners…” Alya muttered, almost to herself, her brows furrowing more and more with ever word she uttered. “Marinette.” A sudden epiphany must have struck Alya, because she snapped her gaze up from the ground where it had drifted during her mutterings. Alya stared—almost glared—at her with accusatory eyes. “If you don’t stop this… this plot of yours, you will lose your chance with Adrien forever!” 
Alya’s words struck her so hard, she took a step back. Plot? Alya thought this was all some, some plot? That she had been using Luka just to- She had to force herself to take a breath before she said something she would regret. Once she had quashed the hot and angry indignation that was flaring through her as best as she could, she rounded on Alya. “It isn’t some plot!” she cried. “I am weary- exhausted of plots!
“Then what is this? Marinette,” there was that awful, condescending note in her voice. That horrible, look in Alya’s eyes that told her her friend thought she knew what was best. “I don’t want to see you waste your chance. After all these years of loving Adrien and pining for him, you’re going to lose it all! And to some… some newcomer who has barely been here three months! Do you really want all your love to go to-“
“I don’t love Adrien!” she hated how she could hear the tears in her voice. But she couldn’t hold this in any longer. She couldn’t take it anymore. Alya gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth as she stepped back.  
“What do you mean, of course you love him-“
“I don’t. I don’t know if I ever did. And even if I did love him once, I don’t anymore. And I refuse to spend the rest of my life chasing someone who doesn’t love me.” 
“Marinette, of course he loves you. He just has to realize-“
“No, Alya. He doesn’t. He has never once paid me any attention. No matter how hard I tried,” she clutched her hands to her chest, trying to hold in the heartbreak she had bottled up over the years. The world blurred with her held back tears. “And I don’t want to spend my life trying to convince someone to love me. I want- I deserve to have someone who sees me. Who loves me without having to be convinced and tricked into it!”
“And he will-“
“No. He won’t.” Alya started to protest, but she cut her off before she could. “And even if he did, I don’t care. I have something. Something special. Luka saw me. He loves me, and I love him-“
“Luka?” Alya looked caught between indigence and flabbergasted. But it seemed she was quickly leaning towards incredulity. “When did that happen?” 
She remained silent, not trusting herself to speak. But Alya was undeterred. 
“And isn’t it a bit fast? You barely know him, you’ve known Adrien for-“
“I don’t know Adrien. Not really. And he doesn’t know me. Not like Luka. Luka understands me, he makes me happy! I see a future for myself with him.”
“But after all this time pining for Adrien!”
“You aren’t listening! I haven’t loved Adrien for a long time. I don’t think I ever truly did love him in the first place. Now that I know what love is… please,” she added quietly, “I am happy. Can you be happy for me too?”
Alya sighed. She still did not look convinced. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Marinette.”  
“I have never been more sure,” she said quietly before turning and heading towards the path that would take her to the village the long way. Those words were long overdue. She just hoped Alya would listen. And that things would change. 
For the better. 
***
It was warmer in the sun, but it was comfortable with the breeze. Everything was comfortable when he was with Marinette. When he was with her, everything made sense. Except, perhaps, the language of flowers and fans and handkerchiefs, and all the other rules of courtship. But then, in many ways, it felt like those rules did not matter. Like they did not apply to the two of them, despite what Kaalki and Juleka said. Though that did not quell his curiosity regarding the lilacs and what Juleka had said- 
“I do,” she said abruptly, breaking him from his musings before adding in explanation, “want children, that is. I’ve always dreamed of having them. Having a family of my own. Maybe two; I always wanted a sister.”
“They are more headache than anything,” he half chuckled, half mumbled, ignoring the feeling of Juleka’s eyes boring into his back.   
He turned when he felt Marinette’s eyes on him. “Perhaps, but I think the headaches would be worth it, don’t you think?” 
“They are,” he said softly, “I couldn’t imagine a childhood- a life without my sister. I couldn’t imagine my own children not having siblings.”
The smile that curled across her face was dazzling and gentle, and it lit up her eyes and the world around them. The world was suddenly… more. The songs of the birds and the voice of the breeze were clearer, the colours of the meadow were brighter. Everything… 
They were all familiar notes: the songs of the birds, the breeze whispering in the grass, the wildflowers that carpeted the meadow like stained glass, the endless blue sky with its lazily drifting clouds, the warmth of the sun on his face.
Though the notes themselves were familiar, he was suddenly seeing them in a new light. As if a veil had been lifted from his eyes and he was seeing the world for the first time all over again.
The notes were rearranging themselves before his very eyes; suddenly he was seeing just how many shades of blue the sky held all at once, and the colours of the world were singing with new clarity. 
This new arrangement was illuminating new truths in the notes. Truths that had been hidden in what he had once thought was the complete song. 
And at the very centre of the recomposition, was Marinette. 
***
The meadow had sung with new music the day before, when Marinette answered his question. He could still hear it now, singing with resplendent clarity even over the sound of Polaris and Nyx’s hooves.  
King Ali may have commissioned him to compose the symphony, but the symphony was no longer for King Ali anymore than it was for the all the heavens above or all the water in the oceans and seas. 
It was all for Marinette. 
It was all because of Marinette. 
Even now, the wind against his face and the soft thud of hooves against grass held the promise of a new song. Music permeated the world in a way it never had. Or at least, it never had before he had met Marinette. 
She saw him. His mind wandered to the portrait she had done of him. He had almost not recognized his own likeness. She had seen him not just as he was but all and more than he had ever he hoped to be. And she heard him. As entwined as music was in the very essence of his soul, she heard more than his music. She heard him. She cherished his words and quiet as much as she cherished his music.  
Beside him, Juleka and Nyx slowed as they approached one of the hills surrounding the meadow. He quickly followed suit. They ascended the hill in amicable silence, and once they reach the top they made a silent agreement to stop and take in the view of the sprawling hills and meadows and farms, the lilac woods, and in the distance, home. 
It was such a short word. And yet, it held more meaning than one would expect of just a few letters. 
“Luka?” 
“Yes?” he answered, not turning away from the foundation of what would perhaps be another symphony in front of him. 
“You haven’t proposed to Marinette, yet.” It was both a question and an accusation at once. 
Looking away from the view in front of him, he turned to find his sister staring at him inquisitorially. His smile was all the answer she needed.   
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verfound · 18 days
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FIC: I Guess I Live Here Now (MLB; Lukanette)
Characters/Pairings: Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng; Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Rating: Teen and Up
Summary: Luka wasn’t sure exactly when he started living with Marinette, but it was definitely some point between her favorite knitting mug showing up in his cabinet and the time he returned from the studio at three AM to find her asleep in his bed.
Author’s Notes/Warnings: Y’all.  This one has been sitting in the Hoard for ages.  It started with the shower tiles (and I’m still not sure where that inspo came from; I would have sworn Quick, but none of us can find it), grew from that, then sat in the Hoard for probably over a year just biding its time.  I opened it up last week to find the first two scenes and notes, and after a really rough couple of weeks the next thing I knew I was just floating in the moat around Fort Fluff with these idiots.
TL;DR: Never give up on your WIPs.  They all get finished.  Eventually.  😂
“I Guess I Live Here Now”
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Luka chuckled, nudging Marinette’s shoulder with his arm.  She looked up at him with a grin and bumped him back, except she didn’t pull away and ended up leaning into his shoulder.  If his heart picked up a few extra beats at the familiarity of her closeness, they both pretended not to notice.  Her head rested on his shoulder, and she looked up at him with impossibly blue eyes.
“Of course I do,” she said, reaching over to poke at his stomach.  An eyebrow lifted, and her smile grew.  “Juleka and Rose are busy.  Dingo’s working.  Bri’s still stuck in Berlin.  The Captain’s God knows where.  Someone has to make sure you don’t end up living in a crap hole.”
“…I don’t know if I’m insulted or not at the implication that I wouldn’t be able to tell a good place from a…crap hole,” he said sardonically, laughing a little.  Marinette nudged him with her shoulder, or maybe she just snuggled closer.  It had been getting harder to tell lately.
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verfound · 18 days
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Sylvia Plath
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