#More Lukas but at what cost

[dancingdaffodils08]

I’m rewatching a lot of mcsm gameplay for the first time in years but I don’t think I ever watched season 2. I’m about to watch episode 1 rn but now I’m scared, everyone talks about season 2 so ominously😭 what trauma am I about to give myself?!

[enden-agolor]

i fucking LOVE the way you draw/write jesse, as someone with a chubby/buff build i kind of struggle with insecurities about my size but the way you draw him makes me feel very good. idk im describing it badly but i wanted to ask if your design for him is more chubby or muscly?

Dude thank you 🥺🩵 You described it very well.

It really depends on which time frame I'm drawing Jesse in actually.

In the beginning, I imagine Jesse is quite scrawny. I mean did you see his work out routine in the beginning? He was was doing sit ups and punching flowers. He was definitely lacking muscle (but had enough to be able to lift Reuben up and down that ladder) and as the first couple episodes progress, he stays scrawny but progressively becomes more scarred up until the Portal Hallway episodes.

The Portal Hallway episodes, it takes place many months after the events of the Witherstorm. Jesse and his friends are going on many more adventures, really honing their skills that they acquired over the past few months. Jesse is much more built now. He's buff and tough with the true heart of a hero. Although, once he and his friends get stuck in the Portal Hall, that's when things take a really devastating turn for him. Feeling hopeless and lost for weeks on end, he begins to feel withdrawn from the positivity he was feeling before he ended up stuck here. Traumatic events keep occuring, and with these events, Jesse is of course drawn to remember and replay the events of Reuben's death in his head. He keeps the most of these feelings to himself because his group is already feeling so disheartened about their current situation that the last thing he'd want for them is to know that he's breaking emotionally, so he ends up taking less care of himself. He starts eating with the idea that he has to stay strong for his friends, but even those moments are rare. Food is scarce depending on what portal they are in, so when he finds food, he'll take anything that will keep his energy and strengths up.

By the end of it all, he's actually put on a significant amount of muscle. But it's kind of like a 'at what cost?' scenario.

Things get a bit better for him between then and Season 2 where he's eating better again and keeping all that muscle, but once Season 2 comes and goes, and with everything that happens in the Sunshine Institute and the Underneath, he loses a lot of weight.

It's only after Season 2, where he stays in BeaconTown and eventually finds a love life with Lukas when he really begins putting on weight once again. He's done with hero work. He's done with going on crazy life threatening adventures. Now he just wants to live life for himself rather than putting others first. Lukas helps him a lot through this, with body positivity and lots of love and affectionate touch, it's all the reassurance Jesse has ever needed to feel okay with being himself again. So he ends up putting on that happy weight that couples typically adopt over time when they're in a healthy relationship. Lukas treats him so, so unbelievably well. Finally Jesse gets to eat food for himself without the idea of needing to keep himself strong and powerful once he's finally retired. He indulges himself in his sweet tooth and loves to eat cookies, cakes, and other baked goods that Lukas will bake or bring home. He also really enjoys the fact that he doesn't have to eat alone anymore. He loves sitting at the table and enjoying a meal with his hubby. And the best part, which is something Jesse was horribly self conscious about, is that Lukas loves and adores his pudge. He is so supportive of Jesse's eating habits, but he doesn't hesitate to sneak veggies and fruits into Jesse's lunch box for work.

So yeah uh Jesse is chubby, buff and loved at the end of it all 😍

Here's some lil doodles of him I have lying around. The first one is pretty old and could probably use a touch up since now I don't see much of a difference, but you get the point ☠️

[voidspiraling]

Omg Till is so cute whattttttt. Excuse my brain rotting I just needed to get this out of my system.

LOOK AT THEM SO CUTE

ALL OF THEM SO CUTE!!!!

Ahem.

Now time for some serious analysis 🧐 (I don’t rlly get anywhere tho so less of an analysis and more just me asking a bunch of questions hoping for an answer from the void)

One thing I noticed aside from how cute Till is his eye bags.

This baby Till doesn’t have eye bags yet, so we can conclude that Till was starting to become sleep deprived after the age of 3 and before the age of 8. (I’m just making a guess based on the pics of their age Till could be 12 in that picture I truly couldn’t tell you)

Now what does this mean when a child is continuously sleep deprived by a stupid alien?

Impacts Behaviors: Harder to pay attention, prone to mood swings, and increased impulsivity (Yep that’s Till)

Impacts Mental Health: Increases the risk and severity of depression and anxiety (What do you know that’s also Till!)

Impacts Brain Development: Negatively affects the memory and intelligence parts of the brain (Do you guys remember that brain scan that showed a brain suffering from trauma?)

As you can see from an early age Till was already put through the wringer before he even got a bruise. I say this because sleep deprivation is extremely torturous regardless of whether it’s forced or self inflicted. Mentally and physically not getting enough sleep fucks up every aspect of your life. The lack of sleep could be bc Till was staying up late, it was noted by other Anakt kids that Till kept them up at night bc he was practicing his music. It could also be bc Urak forced him to stay awake.

Like when he made Till watch videos of a younger Luka. Overall my heart broke once again at the way they treat a literal baby. Another thing I want to point out is their necks.

I’m leaving out Ivan cuz he doesn’t wear the collar anyways. But Mizi and Sua both wear the standard (I’m assuming standard bc they’re the most common) collars both lit up green. They’re living in a little bubble and while they look cute, knowing how their story goes makes them look uncanny. Anyways this is the collar most of the kids wear.

But Till is wearing a different collar and also is wearing a green patch. It always made me curious why he has different collars compared to the rest. Like I get it’s bc of the fact that he rebels a lot so he has a lot more restraints. But this collar is thinner and more metallic than the other ones. You’d think that if they were trying to punish him more they’d give him a bigger collar or a more restrictive one. They forced him into one that restrains his arm to his torso and one over his mouth. But this is just a thin collar that he wears on stage and it doesn’t seem to have any function other than to be a small collar. It also doesn’t show a mood indicator like the other ones do. I guess bc Urak doesn’t care what Till is feeling so he didn’t bother getting that feature. But it also makes it ambiguous what Till is feeling. In the picture while Mizi and Sua look happy, and Ivan looks focused, Till looks shocked and perplexed about writing in the air. (And adorable but when doesn’t he look adorable?) Anyways I can’t for the life of me figure out why his loser alien would get a custom collar that is so simple. From what I’ve gathered abt that freak he grew up in the slums but due to his greedy nature and inability to have compassion was able make it big by doing illegal shit. So maybe it was cost effective to just make simple collars instead of getting the standard one? What a cheap bastard.

Another thing that confuses me is the green patch on his neck.

Just what is this? My first thought went to nicotine patches and insulin patches. But those aren’t suppose to go on the neck, usually on the arm. Then as I did my daily watch of Round 6 I noticed that Till has been injected with unknown substances through his neck.

My guess is that the green patches are injecting him with some type of drug. And because the skin around the neck is so fragile the drugs can seep through easier. (It’s completely unsafe but in line with how the loser alien acts)

There are two possible explanations.

One is that Till has become addicted to the drugs they pump him with. And in order to keep him normal and keep him from showing withdrawal signs they use the green patches like a nicotine patch. Drugs have been used by artists as a way to further their craft. Some have even become reliant on it in order to make art. There’s a sense of enlightenment as well, some use it as a way to gain a new perspective on life. I personally can’t understand using drugs for that purpose, but some of the greatest works of art have been created through the use of substances like these. So it’s possible that Urak in his attempt to create a weapon that could topple Luka tries to make Till produce songs using that method. Such as injecting a bunch of drugs and leaving him in a room to write songs.

Two is that they use the green patch as a way to sedate Till, or as a way to enhance his performance. As evident by just looking at Till you can tell he’s running on fumes when he’s on stage. So maybe as a way to push past his limit they drug him so that he can keep performing even when his body is at its limit. The patches are only seen in Round 2 but that could explain why Till got a nosebleed when he was performing in Round 7. His body was finally catching up to him.

Alternatively they could just be there to cover up the wounds from injections while also looking cool lol.

As you can tell I am very confused ;-; but also very curious abt these experiments. They seemed to be focused on the throat and mouth which makes me think they’re trying to modify how these kids sing. Like are they trying to make it so that they can sing outside of their vocal range? Are they trying to make it so that they can sing without having to breath? Or maybe the drugs can affect their literal genes. I know human editing is a procedure in Alien stage universe but what does that actually mean? Can you edit their appearance? Their personality? Their memory? Their thoughts?

My attempts at analysis have only left me with more questions.

Thanks for reading byeeeeee

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette gulped down the last bit of liquid in her cup, slamming it down on the table as she let out a long, steady breath. "Okay, I'm ready for my lessons!"

Then, blushing when she noticed that the cup made a louder sound than intended, she raised it up and gently set it back down again. It wasn't glass or ceramic, thankfully.

Luka chuckled, taking his time with his own drink but delighted by the enthusiasm. Leaning calmly against the couch, he asked, "Do you want to get the guitar? It's under my bed."

She nodded, pushing off her seat in what was almost a bounce as she headed into the Couffaine siblings' room. In the back of her mind, she thought it was odd to put his guitar there when he usually played it all the time, but perhaps she couldn't understand his thought process when he was in "music instructor" mode. She supposed it could've been like a ritual to get her in the right mood by having her take the guitar out of herself, or he had so many guitars that he'd started reserving the one she practiced with only for music lessons.

The worst case scenario was that her bad luck had rubbed off on his poor guitar and it had to be sealed away so as to not affect the others. Alternatively, what if she was such a bad player that she'd ruined the poor instrument and Luka had to hide it away in shame until their lessons?

However, when she crouched down and pulled out the drawer under his bed, she saw not his guitar, but something large, rectangular, and encased in wrapping paper that was bright pink with white flowers. She stayed there for a solid few seconds, stunned, then gave it a poke just to make sure it was really there.

She heard a set of footsteps off to the side and looked up to see Luka, leaning against the doorframe with his cup in hand. He said nothing, taking a small sip and looking at her with an expectant smile.

Marinette's heart skipped a beat at the implications. She stared at the object - the gift - in disbelief, muttering more to herself than him, "For me...?"

Slowly, she reached inside the drawer, slipping her fingers under each side of the present. Standing up carefully, she lifted it, only briefly thrown off by the weight distribution. She had expected it to weigh the same on both sides, but it remained heavier on one of them.

"It's really big," she said a little anxiously. "You didn't break the bank, did you? I know you have a job, but..."

He took another sip instead of answering. Whatever her concerns were, he didn't share them.

Setting the gift down on the bed, she hesitated, then picked it up again to turn it upside-down. There, she saw the edge of the wrapping paper and slipped her hand underneath, moving it from one side to the other and carefully peeling the tape as she went. It would be easier to tear the wrapping paper to pieces, but she didn't want to leave a mess of torn bits on Luka's bed, even if she knew he wouldn't have cared.

With all tape removed, she undid and spread the wrapping paper fully out, revealing a pure white box underneath. She flipped it around again so she could grab the top, then held her breath and pulled it off in one motion.

Said breath promptly left her as she saw the contents: a gorgeous pink guitar that she had never seen before. She dropped the box's top to the floor in shock and touched the instrument all over, plucking the strings, turning the tuning pegs, and running her hand along the curves. Most notable of all was what she was certain was her flower pattern adorning the front, but it didn't feel like a sticker that had been merely slapped onto it.

This was her guitar, she realized. She'd initially wondered if claiming there was a guitar under his bed was just the pretext for giving her a gift, but it was the real deal; there was a guitar under his bed, and it was a gift for her.

"It's—Luka, it's—I mean, wow—" She winced at herself, finding it hard to say anything coherent when she was getting all choked up. "I-it's beautiful. It must've cost you a fortune."

"I didn't buy it," he told her, then added playfully, "I didn't steal it either."

She looked back and forth between him and the guitar, mind racing to catch up with that information. He joked around sometimes, so she could've interpreted that someone else bought it for him and he paid them back, meaning he wasn't technically lying, but she knew that wasn't the case, which meant...

"You—you made it?" She pulled away and put a hand to her mouth. "I didn't even know you made instruments!"

"I didn't." He tipped his cup to his lips, drinking the last bit of liquid, then smiled warmly at her. "Not until now."

The implication hit her like a—well, she would've liked to think 'truck,' but that had already happened with the revelation that he'd made her an entire guitar. Her mind was spinning too much to try and come up with a proper metaphor, like having a plane dropped onto her after she got hit by the truck, or a steady stream of trucks all running her over in succession.

"It's my first one," Luka confirmed, eyes soft as he gazed upon it with her. "I've practiced before and made smaller stuff, but this is the real deal. I did the best that I could and I know it's not perfect—"

He kept talking, but it was hard to listen to such utter nonsense. Sure, she wasn't an expert on guitars or anything, but not perfect?! It was the sweetest, most thoughtful gift she'd ever received! As a creative force herself, she knew what it meant to make something from one's own passion and give it to someone else; it was like giving a piece of yourself to them.

Her eyes scanned the guitar up and down, no longer feeling worthy of touching it. She felt like she should hang it on a wall somewhere, but it would fall and break into pieces considering how things usually went for her. Sealing it away in an unbreakable box with ten locks would be best to preserve it, where she could open it occasionally to admire but never touch it.

"...It's really for me?"

She was in such a state of awe that even Luka started showing a bit of shyness, blushing faintly and averting his gaze. "You earned it after everything you put into our lessons."

Her face scrunched up, eyes narrowed at him in healthy skepticism as she gestured at his work. "You mean all the times I hurt your ears with how bad I was?"

He shook his head. "I wasn't perfect when I picked up a guitar my first time either, and you did everything right. You listened, you learned, and you followed whatever I did."

He said it as though it truly meant something to him when she hadn't seen it as any big deal. He was an amazing teacher, so it was easy to pay attention while he talked, to copy the movements he'd make with his deft fingers, and remember the positions he'd show her by guiding her hands with his own.

It wasn't just a reward for all of her efforts, but a gift from someone who kept surprising her with how much effort he put towards her. If she imagined her relationships with people like the cup in Luka's hand, she'd given each person she knew a cup of a particular size and they'd pour in what they were willing to put forth to her.

He was the only one who continuously caused his respective cup to overflow, and she teared up at the thought of him.

Luka frowned, leaving his place by the doorframe to stand at her side. "Marinette... if it's too much—"

She grabbed the lapel of his jacket and he shut his mouth, staring confusedly at her hand there. He was taller than her, so she had to pull him down somewhat and get on her tiptoes to kiss him.

It was featherlight, barely lasting a split second, but she heard the clatter of his cup against the floor nonetheless. She blushed faintly, dusting off the lapel like she'd left dirt on it and dropping her gaze.

Clearing her throat, she asked, "Um, is our next lesson about putting our feelings into music? I could—ah—really use it."

She had too much energy bundled up inside, yet no urge to move away. She shifted on her feet, tracing the toe of her shoe against the lines on the floor as she waited for some form of reaction.

When she saw Luka's own shoes come towards her, her heart skipped a beat. Fingertips brushed her bangs aside and she looked up just in time to see his toothy grin before he planted a small kiss on her forehead.

"Me too," he agreed, looking extremely self-satisfied as he pulled back. "Maybe you can give me some lessons when we're done."

She tilted her head while he walked off as coolly as always, though she noted that he completely forgot about the cup on the floor. She bent down to pick it up and put her other hand to her forehead, wondering what he meant since he certainly didn't need any lessons on music from her.

Her eyes flicked to the cup, eyeing the rim where Luka had been drinking from. Realization struck a second later, the hand on her forehead dropping to her mouth instead.

Oh.

[generalluxun]

Who do you think is more fitting to be “Creator’s Pet” of the show: Astruc’s virtual daughter Marinette or perfect and flawless Adrien?

Okay, before I start- I don't like the term creator's pet, it tends to suggest currying favor on the 'pet' part, and obviously Marinette or Adrien can't do that.

Perhaps 'favorite'? and let me lay some ground rules.

This is not character salt! Nothing here should be used to deride the characters. This is about the narrative woven with/around them. This is examining the external biases at play.

We must recognize that Marinette is the PoV character for the show. That is value-neutral. We can't hold screen time as evidence.

That said let's tackle Adrien being 'perfect' first. I know the show and creator use that word a lot but it is very clear in the show that ... He's not. He makes mistakes, he gets *called out* for his mistakes, he gets upset, he apologizes. He's not perfect.

So, why/how/what is the purpose of the perfect mantra in the show? It's because Adrien is a *trophy*. He was Gabriel's trophy, and now he's Marinette's. A trophy must be 'perfect', or how can it be a trophy? He makes no demands(his flirting as Cat Noir was shown as him being wrong and he corrected his behavior to be more perfect), he gives everything, he carries emotional baggage and costs nothing.

All of his perfection benefits *other people* in the narrative, not himself. Does that sound like a favorite? No it sounds like something you *give* to your favorite.

Because yes, I do believe Marinette suffers from an above-average attachment by her creator(and some fans) I say suffers from because I think it hurts her as a character. Superficially it seems to her benefit, but below the surface it's empty calories.

Marinette makes mistakes too, but they are always framed as best intentions. At the end of any disagreement she is the one in the right. Her pain is always the focus/valid one in any situation. S5 amped this up to the point I call it 'Poor Mari' when it happens. Any emotional situation must make you sympathize with Marinette first and often only. It doesn't matter what or who is involved. The entire Agreste Arc has been summed up by the emotional impact *Adrien's family being the villains and his father dying* have on *Marinette* not Adrien. Marinette gets the sympathy for someone else's crisis. How weird is that? It's not even that she did anything wrong (before the lie) but no one else seems to be allowed to experience more emotion than she does, no matter the situation.

That is a strange choice and one that hurts the narrative and her character. (As they find new/more/repeat ways to put her in emotional turmoil to keep her always center all the time)

As an example from before S5, we can look at how Luka/Kagami were handled. It's two parallel situations, handled at the same time. How they're handled gives the insight you are asking for.

Marinette's struggle is the first an foremost thing in Truth. Luka is the sweetest bean, and even when he's akumatized it is all about her pain the end and her having to break up with him. He's upset but he never blames her, never corrects her. After the breakup he is still completely supportive and always there. He works to find her happiness, even though he openly admits to still being in love with her. Marinette is handled gently and put on a pedestal.

Meanwhile, Lies focuses more on Kagami and her efforts to connect with Adrien who is pining for Ladybug( just as Marinette is pining for Adrien) She gets mad at him. She breaks up with him. She holds him accountable for his behavior. She gets over him. When she finally joins team Adrienette it is for *Marinette's* sake, not Adrien's. (MP72)

So yes, Marinette is favored heavily, beyond simply 'the main character' she is the center of this world physically and emotionally in a way that is only more noticable as time goes on.

Oh- and another easy metric: How many people have said Marinette is the best Ladybug ever vs. has anyone ever given Cat Noir the time of day except Ladybug when she felt bad about leaving him out of the loop?

[silkentine]

Camille Boucher is her father's favorite daughter. If only he wasn't born in the year 840 and turned into a vampire at the age of 45 during the Siege of Paris. You think your boomer dad isn't very woke? Imagine having one who is older than France. So, being the favorite daughter doesn't amount to much when she has several male siblings. She is, however, the only one of her many siblings who refuses to hunt and kill humans for sustenance and carries great pride in that. It's been 398 years since she's killed a human with her teeth (the bubonic plague made the whole affair very unappetizing).

Despite what you might think, being 425 years old is not easy! You try living through several wars and then see if you're willing to remember them all. Sometimes, facets of Camille's memory spring to mind and she relives the deaths of her mortal friends or lifetimes of her own personal suffering. But, hey, every twenty-something (or those who look like they're in their twenties) has mental issues these days; she's not special. It's better to just put the centuries of trauma on the back-burner most days. She has a relatively easy life otherwise; with her father having dominion over the entire Pacific Northwest, there is very little outside her reach, even if her stupid brothers get to reap most of the lucrative benefits.

Camille's hobbies include: attending college (she has far too many degrees to count, though most of them are in math), looking mysterious at coffee shops, solving puzzles, and conducting independent criminal investigations. She hates cops and avoids them at all costs. Her favorite part of the job is the thrill of investigating a case without being allowed onto the crime scene or access to forensic tools. Keeps the mind sharp.

Her newest undertaking? The Dentona Vampire, a notorious serial killer known for tearing out the throats of their victims (a bad look for the local vampires who'd prefer a more low-key media presence). The Dentona Vampire has been active for about six months now, but Camille has no real leads on who the murderer might be.

That is, until she keeps bumping into the same handsome, long-haired goon who keeps announcing himself publicly as a vampire. He honestly seems too clumsy to be a notorious serial killer, but he's the only interesting thing in her never-ending life at the moment. Even if he can't lead her to a clue about her case, it wouldn't hurt to show him the ropes and teach him how to be a more subtle creature of the night and less of a tacky Anthony Slater-type.*

*Anthony Slater is a fictional vampire and one of the primary love interests in the YA book series, The Crepuscular Saga. Everyone knows he ends up with the girl at the end of the book, but Camille preferred the boyish charm of the werewolf character, Lukas Rust, and secretly wished he'd be the end-game romance.

What's another pet project? She has all the time in the world, and it would be just terrible if her father found out someone was out there telling the humans about the existence of real vampires.

Thank you for reading my massive introduction to my character, Camille Boucher! She was a tricky personality to pin down, but her sense of filial duty and her selfish interest in detective work is the perfect combination to make an overconfident and resentful eldest daughter who refuses to grow up but knows she will never develop into her own if she doesn't. The goon she keeps bumping into is the other protagonist of this work, Bat Valentine. Find out more about him by looking at the "sanguine" tag on my blog.

Some characters that I drew inspiration from for Camille are: Nancy Drew, Annabeth Chase from Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Kaylee Frye from Firefly, Nami from One Piece, and L. Lawliet from Death Note.

[invisiblequeen]

Didn't even know this existed until one of my faves posted...

@pamsimmerstories : I've been obsessed with their landgraab gen 2 story since i stumbled upon it a couple of months ago. I'm constantly checking for updates and the one day I don't is when they upload a whole handful of posts! But I've been with them since this one couple I won't name was in teenager mode, and now that couple has three darn kids and one of them is already in child mode. I'm not ready to see time move on! I'm not ready to see their parents meet the grim reaper! I've gotten too attached!

@samssims : Yes, my contestant for the Mildred BC didn't stay long, but I love the concept of a Challenge like this for an elder sim who used to be a star back in the day looking for love after two divorces. I'm eager to see who wins!

@lindyloosims : Let's just say I'm lovestruck over luka, his personality, his rosy cheeks, his quirks and his interactions with the contestants here to win his heart. Lindyloo is great with the dialogue and narration--it keeps me engaged as hell. Also her simself is the host of the BC and I just love that detail!

@saruin : One of the first cc creators I found when i discovered cc at all. Her creativity knows no bounds, and the presets she's created have helped expand my own creativity when it comes to making sims. More often than not you'll find at least one thing of hers in any post I make. Hell, she made a set of teeth with color swatches for the TONGUE. How can I not "stan?"

@cinamun : Things Fall Apart, but not my commitment to this woman's story. I wasn't there when it first started all those years ago, but dammit, i'm here now (since dira's graduation arc) and i'm not going anywhere. From the dialogue, to the characters, to the style of shots themselves, she literally has me in a chokehold. And she's the one who was wheezing and screaming over Kendrick performing Not Like Us fifty times on Juneteenth! If that doesn't cement her as an icon IDK what does! (ironic that hers was the first tumblr faves post I saw that led to my own lol)

@cawthorntales : You all know I live for BC challenges. This man right here never, ever, EVER stops delivering on those. EVER. He always has an established storyline for the character he provides us to make a sim for, as well as a funny dialogue between said sim and the "cameraman" to start it off. I need for more people to know who he is so we can get MORE contestant for his challenges so I can witness MORE of my sims in his gameplay!!!

@akitasimblr : Found her during the Dreadful BC Challenge and haven't looked back since. She is VERY serious about this gameplay BC Challenge business. She gives you CLIPS formatted as live streams with "chat" on the side reacting to what they see. She has a leaderboard with a system to rank all contestants on friendship and romance and etc. And she's currently doing a crossover of the bachelor and SURVIVOR! go check it out!

@novapark : This one right here is a COZY Bachelor Challenge gameplay. Their shots are so deliciously saturated and warmly lit that it makes me wanna get a cup of tea and a snuggie to watch it. I like the style of a narrator popping in to watch all the ways Izan (the bachelor) wins and fails with his contestants (sims are so weird when it comes to their mood switch-ups i swear). And yours truly has a sim in there, too, so that's an added benefit for me, but just off the way they shot this challenge I'd still be checking it out regardless!

@jayveesim : You. YOUUUUUUUUUU. You have ruined me. You have ensared me. You have cost me my former life before I knew of your gameplay. You and that DAMNED BLAKE PARSONS! You've snatched my wig. You've dragged me across the floor by my eyelashes. You've scorched my edges! I have rarely been so fired up and passionate about a pixel baby the way I have been about YOURS and their DECISIONS! I won't even try to explain it to y'all, you gotta go check it out yourselves, and then we can scream about it together in this evil genius's comment section! LMFAO

This is a great chance for us all to big up fellow simblrs, so I hope to see more of these posts!

[vendetta-if]

Is Ash a yandere? Or the just like that from growing up in the Russian Mafia? No hate, they my fave 💓 lol

They definitely have qualities of being a Yandere and they were indeed first drafted up from Yandere archetype.

But then, as I get to know them better, get in their head and how they think and feel as I wrote them, I realize they can’t really be a complete Yandere because they care too much about MC 🥺

Ash will always prioritize MC’s happiness, feelings, wishes, and desires over theirs. To me, to be a Yandere, they have to be selfish in the sense that they would be willing to get the object of their obsession at all cost, even if it might not be the best for the person they obsess over or what they want.

But yeah, Ash clearly has the making of a Yandere 😆 I’d say there’s only a thin line preventing them from fully becoming one, and that is their utmost care and respect for MC.

I remember I answered a what if question about what if Ash is a Yandere 🧐 I tried to find it, but Tumblr search is near non-functional 💀😭 If anyone can find it or has the link to the post, please let me know.

But the gist of it is that Rin would be the hardest for Ash to get rid of, and Santana would be the easiest 🥲 More explained under the cut for those interested.

No shade to Santana, but they’re a nobody and they’re not the best in combat like Skylar, it would be really easy for Ash to get rid of them permanently (Noo, not my poor meow meow Santana 😭).

Skylar, it might not be as easy or even feasible to off them. But what Ash can do is just prevent them from getting with MC. Luka and Grandpa are already skeptical and distrusting of Skylar due to them being a superhero. If Ash wants to be even pettier, they can conspire with Luka to ruin Skylar’s reputation.

Rin would be the hardest, nor Ash would want to get rid of the Morozovs’ ally. They just want Rin to break up with MC. They can’t even ask Luka’s help in this, so they’ll have to be waay subtler in this endeavour.

I think at the end, what they could do is slowly undermine MC’s and Rin’s relationship insidiously by using the trust and manipulating MC’s own close relationship with them.

And yes, even the current Ash in the story is fully capable of scheming behind MC’s back—not that they need to do it so far…

[rainba]

What would Kairos/Luka do if the darling is always shown hugging/sleeping with a plushie in there arms

They always carry it around in there house, there always hugging the plushie when they have to sleep late at school, they always have it around in sleepovers, everywhere except in public places cuz they always look "mature and elegant" outside there natural habitats

They would still do the same even if the plushie was given by Kairos or Luka but they'll cherish it 10x more since they rarely recieve gifts

Darling would get mad if other people made it dirty or touch it with dirty hands, they would ruin other people's lives over a fuckin plush

"Touch my plushie with dirty hands and you'll have yourself a free trip to the hospital"

LOL, Kairos and Luka would both think it’s really cute. ^_^

Honestly, Kairos would see how much you love plushies and would try to buy you more– and he’d also buy himself a plushie that matches your favorite one. He’d keep it on his desk at all times, looking at it and holding it whenever he needs more motivation to work. (づ ◕‿◕ )づ

Also, side note– if he notices that you cuddle your plushie and love on it way more than you do him– he might genuinely get jealous. If you hug your plushie tightly right in front of him, he will look at you shyly, waiting for you to give him a hug too. >_<;;

As for Luka– he would totally tease his darling over it. 

“You still play with toys?” 

“What are you, a child?” 

...Then he also teases the fact that you don't carry your plushies around in public because you wanna be seen as "mature and elegant". ^^;;;;;;;;;; Because, honestly, why should you care about what other people think? Luka certainly doesn't care about other people's opinions, so.... ⊂( ´ ▽ ` )⊃

But he doesn’t actually think negatively of you loving plushies, he just likes the way you get angry at him and argue ^^. He’ll also buy you a ton of plushies– but like, not the really small ones. No, he’ll buy you those stupidly big ones that cost an arm and a leg. He loves to spoil his darling sometimes!! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

And while he might be tempted to (temporarily) hide your favorite plushie- just to see how you'd react- he figures that it'd genuinely really upset his darling. So, he wouldn't cross that line. (-ω-、) .

[whimsysys]

༄ ‧₊🍊༉‧₊ Meet The Artist !!

༄ ‧₊🍊༉‧₊ Written Intro !!

hello! my name is eden or valentino (val for short). i’m sort of new to tumblr, i moved here from tiktok since it got banned !! i am the host of a polyfragmented DID system, though i’m not sure exactly how often i’ll post about that. though i don’t enjoy syscourse, i am personally anti endogenic and would prefer if endos & their supporters did not interact with this blog.

im generally multifandom, and just post whatever i fixate on & things related to my special interests. currently i am fixated on cabaret 1993 & the magnus archives! more information under the cut.

༄ ‧₊🌿༉‧₊ Sideblogs & Tag Info !!

@arachnepink - our anime-centric blog, primarily MHA content.

@chiralheart - yaoiblogging nightmare. if you’re under 16, DNI with this one. mostly DMMD & slow damage content.

future sideblogs will be added accordingly!

#₊‧ 𖧧 from; eden - eden’s sign off, and also a reference to hozier!

# ཐི ♱ ཋྀ lukaposting - luka / arkas’s signoff. supposed to sound like “shitposting”

#ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 anon;; - either an unknown fronter, or just doesn’t feel like clarifying who’s posting.

༄ ‧₊🍎༉‧₊ DNI Criteria !!

endogenic & tulpa systems, as stated previously. this includes supporters!

endo neutrals are on very thin ice, as long as you don’t partake in syscourse often, i don’t care as much

if you believe that trans men can be lesbians. i don’t enjoy queer discourse either, but as a trans man this opinion makes me very uncomfortable.

blogs that post IRL porn. self explanatory. we are bodily 16, aka a minor.

under 15 or over 21 ish. this is just personal preference considering our age and what we post.

if you post TMA spoilers untagged. this is a very niche one, i know, but i’m avoiding spoilers at all cost. nothing personal whatsoever!

if you participate in ship wars. obviously this doesn’t include genuinely problematic ships, but if you hate rarepairs or polyships, this isn’t the blog for you.

basic criteria, such as homophobic, transphobic, ableist, etc.

[jellyfishrui]

me as well .. i love hyuna ....

whag if. ehat if hyyuna die

[kawaii-queen-kaiju]

Teenagers

Gotham City. What the hell was Mme. Bustier thinking?! Here she was thinking her PowerPoint had proved her- well, point,- but apparently not. So here she was staring at the plane that was gonna take her and her hellish class to their doom. Okay, maybe she was exaggerating, but with trigger-happy mental patients (literally!), no Miraculous Cure, and Lila of all people, this was bound to be a dumpster fire! 

"Ugh, come on, Dupain-Cheng. Are you gonna stand there all day or are you coming?"

Chloe. Her unlikely ally against Lila, the only person she hated more than Marinette herself. After the rest of the sheeple had migrated to Lila's side, Marinette found that the only people she had left standing beside her were Kagami, Luka, and- surprisingly- Chloe. Adrien was disappointingly neutral, but she didn't hold it against him. His upbringing had left him horribly socially stunted, and she was 90% sure Lila had some kind of unholy alliance with Gabriel, keeping Adrien in check.

"Yeah, I'm coming, don't get your panties in a twist."

"Dupain-Cheng!"

-

The hotel was fancy. Like, Grand Paris Hotel fancy. Stupid billionaires.

The rest of the class got paired up, two to a room, but Chloe managed to get hers changed to the penthouse suite, oh so graciously deigning to let Marinette stay with her.

"What am I supposed to do with two beds, Dupain-Cheng? Hmm? Besides, if I left you alone with the rest of the heathens, they'd tear you to shreds!"

Marinette thinks she enjoys the company after Sabrina flocked to Lila.

The itinerary has them set for resting the jet lag off that night, then touring the Gotham Wayne Enterprises office. Unfortunately, while Chloe is snoring away in the next room over, Marinette is lying awake worrying. Sure, she knew that no one was going to find the Miracle Box in her sewing box, magically locked, in her suitcase, with a padlock on it, stashed in the hotel provided safe, but she still felt paranoid having it out of her bedroom.

As a result, her night with little to no fitful sleep compounded on the jet lag, leaving her feeling like a literal zombie.

Wait, she's died before, so is she a zombie?!

Coffee. Her eyes zero in on the drink of the gods in Chloe's manicured hand.

"You are a goddess, Chloe, and I love you." She says, chugging the coffee down like a man in the middle of the desert. She completely missed the astonished look on Chloe's face.

"Alright class, I'm gonna do a quick headcount, then we'll head out." Mme. Mendeleiv said.

Despite the fact that Mm. Bustier wanted to go on the trip, she found out that she's pregnant and decided that the other teacher should go in her stead. Honestly, it was the only thing that salvaged the trip for Marinette. If Mme. Bustier were here, she'd have probably left her behind!

They quickly boarded the bus (dodging a foot stuck out by Alya. God, to think she almost confessed she was Ladybug to her!) and got on their way.

The W.E. office was, quite frankly, huge. Really! The only building that Marinette had seen that could hold a candle to the building, was the TVi studio back home. The lobby was equally as impressive. It was huge with marble floors and columns that probably cost more than her parents would make in their whole lives.

"Hi! Are you the French class?"

They were greeted by a woman who... honestly, looked out of place in the large pristine lobby. Her brown hair was long and curly, up in a ponytail, revealing shaved sides, and heavily pierced ears. Her rock t-shirt, cargo pants, and leather jacket clashing with the business casual the rest of the people bustling about were sporting.

Oh, wait. Was she saying something?

"-guest I.Ds, they'll let you access the elevators up to the fifth floor. Any questions?"

"Yes, one." Mme. Mendeleiv said. "I thought our tour guide was a young man, Richard Grayson?"

The woman's eye twitched (she tuned out her name, damn.).

"Yes, he was scheduled to lead the tour, but something... came up." She seemed awfully annoyed with this Richard. Hmm.

"Excuse me? Riley?" Lila piped up from the back. Ew. The woman's- Riley's- smile sharpened. "That's Mrs. Miller-Todd to you. Yes?" Lila flinched back, like her words physically hurt. That little- "W-Well, I was wondering why our passes only took us up to the fifth floor?"

"W-" Mrs. Miller-Todd (damn, that was a mouthful, is this how people feel about her name?), opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Alya. "Yeah! For your information, Lila's dating Damian Wayne!" 

Well, shoot. She might not have to deal with Lila for much longer. At Alya's exclamation, all the movement in the lobby stopped, every single person staring at Lila and Alya like they grew another head. Their tour guide raised an eyebrow looking amused, baffling Lila and the rest of her flock. "Really? I wasn't aware that he had even been to France, let alone gotten a girlfriend five years older than himself." Did... did that just happen? Did Lila just get called out in front of a bunch of people who seemed to not believe her?! "Pinch me." Marinette whispered. Unfortunately for her, Chloe heard her. She whipped around and pouted at her.

"Lila's not from France! She lived in Italy before; that's where she met him, and the Wayne's are very secretive, that's why you didn't hear about it! And five years isn't that much!" Alya stoutly defended Lila, reminding Marinette vaguely of a pomeranian.

The poor young woman covered her mouth with her hand, looking like she was contemplating running out the door and not looking back. "You know what?" She muttered, "Bruce is gonna have to actually pay me to get me to deal with this shit." Out loud though, she said; "O-kay, well, supposed girlfriends aside, the first five floors are the only ones open to visitors, the rest are various labs and offices for employees, nothing very interesting."

Marinette wanted to argue that the labs sounded very interesting, but like a good visiting student, said nothing.

They went up the elevators in two groups, up to the third floor. "The second floor is a food court, and you'll be stopping there for lunch and getting turned over to your teacher. Now this floor..."

The tour was actually pretty interesting. They got to see a few finished projects going up for sale, and an in-depth explanation of which department does what. They managed to get to the R&D department before Lila's Possi(trademark pending) caused more trouble. "So, is it true that you make Batman's gear? How about nuclear weapons?" Alya asked, whipping her phone out. Mrs. Miller-Todd sighed. "Mlle. Cesaire, I believe that in the form you signed allowing you on this trip, it said 'no recording devices of any kind'?"

Alya frowned, but put her phone away. "Good. That was your first warning, Mlle. Cesaire. If it happens again, I will have to confiscate it. As for your question, I'm afraid I can't answer it." Alya grinned, her hand twitched, obviously wanting to grab her phone, but refraining. "So you do!"

Mrs. Miller-Todd narrowed her eyes. "I did not say that. I mean, that I don't know. I'm not an employee at Wayne Enterprises."

Everyone's eyes blew wide. Not an employee? "But, if you're not an employee, then why are you giving the tour?" Mme Mendeleiv asked. Mrs. Miller-Todd sighed in annoyance. "I lost a bet." 

"Yeah, but who let you do this?" Alya demanded, placing herself in front of Lila, like the loyal guard dog she was. Mrs. Miller-Todd raised her eyebrow (it was starting to seem like her signature move at this point. Or maybe... someone else found her class as annoying as she and Chloe do?). "Bruce Wayne." 

Marinette could feel the panic in Lila from the back of the group, and watched the reporter in Alya sit up and beg. She whipped her phone out and started rattling off questions, asking about her relationships with Bruce Wayne. In a second though, her phone was taken from her hand, cutting her off. "I warned you, Mlle. Cesaire. You'll get it back at the end. Now, last time I checked, this was a tour of the building, not my personal life." She proceeded to turn on her heel and stalk off down the hallway, expecting the class to follow.

"I like her." Chloe said next to her ear. "Mmhmm." Marinette hummed back, agreeing whole heartedly.

Maybe Gotham wouldn't be a disaster after all.

~

Cross-posting from Ao3, attempting to lure followers here all because of a bit :)

[corrupte3d-mindz]

About Me:

I’m a 16 year old who loves writing about my favorite characters that live in my head rent free. I’m currently ending my sophomore year and moving to junior year; I found out that I’ll be 17 as a senior which is kinda weird. I speak English as a first language but I have a bit of dyslexia so I tend to add a word that didn’t need to be there or I forgot a word. If you notice it and I haven’t just hit me up and I’ll fix it along with that kind gesture I’ll also ask for you to give me a prompt/idea that you may want me to write, I love hearing other’s ideas and helping them to put it to paper. I tend to be very step by step writer because I like to give a very good visual representation of what’s going down but I tend to do it badly but it’s in the process of becoming more refined and better.

MASTERLIST BELOW

Warnings:

Some of these series have very sensitive topics like rape, drug abuse, gore, and death. If you do not like those topics then please stay away from them, I don’t want to deal with complaining. Half of my stuff will be dark, depraved, and depressing. Reading this and choosing to go further is all up to you. If you need to step away from one of my posts because you are struggling to make it through then drop it entirely, it will only get worse from there.

Any dark and depraved depictions of certain characters who are not like that normally will most likely happen in my blog , but for the ones that do have it, it’ll be worse. The ones that don’t normally have it I do not see them in that light. I just write them in that light.

For the depraved people like myself, you may continue on and please enjoy my work that I love to do. Thank you and have a wonderful day/night.

Codes:

𑁍 — Fluff

𖥻 — Humor

𖤐 — Angst

☹︎ — Dark

♧ — Smut

♔ — Headcanons

〇 — One-Shots

⧉ — Potential Series

꩜ — Series

Color Codes:

Red: Extreme non-con elements or just extremely dark themes

Orange: Some dark elements mentioned or conveyed.

Blue: Barely any dark themes at all; probably just the mention of alcohol, drugs, or blood. It’s the bare fucking bones.

Pink: Either it’s mainly smut or a shitty plot with smut..

Green: Nothing bad at all, it’s just fluff and kind things happening around here.

White: Either I haven’t written it yet, in the process or just have no clue what I want to put it under as yet.

Who I write for:

Celebrities

Cillian Murphy

Series:

Cost of Fame Part 2 ꩜,♧,𖤐,𑁍

One-shots:

On My Dime 〇,𑁍

Lavish Love 〇,♧,𑁍

My fucking baby! 〇,𑁍

Red Carpet Rush 〇,♧,𑁍

Ageless Beauty 〇,♧,𖥻,𑁍

Falling on deaf ears 〇,𑁍

BTS of Peaky Blinders 〇,𑁍

Lights, Camera, Cillian 〇,𑁍

Behind Closed Doors 〇,☹︎,𖤐,♧

Headcanons:

Tom Hardy

Series:

One-shots:

Headcanons:

Venom

Eddie Brock

Serious:

One-shots:

Headcanons:

Peaky Blinders

Thomas Shelby

Series:

Wild & Free ꩜,♧,𖤐,𑁍

Bloodlines ꩜,♧,𖤐,𑁍

Nocturnal Allies ꩜,♧,𖤐,𑁍

A Deal with the Devil ꩜,☹︎,𖤐,♧,𑁍

One-Shots:

His Angel 〇,𑁍

Silent Vows 〇,𑁍,♧

Blood Brothers 〇,☹︎,𖤐

Sleepless Nights 〇,𑁍

Burning Embers 〇,𖤐,𑁍

Little White Lies 〇,𖤐

Needle & Thread 〇,⧉,𑁍

Forever a Shelby 〇,𑁍,𖥻

The Ghost of You 〇,𖤐,𑁍

Uncharted Territory ⧉,𑁍

Veil of Deception 〇,𑁍,♧

Shadows of Ambition

Tangled Memories

Headcanons:

John Shelby

Series:

The Crimson Crown ꩜,♧,𖤐,𑁍

One-Shots:

Blood and Whiskey

Headcanons:

Finn Shelby

Series:

One-Shots:

To The Bone 〇

Headcanons:

Micheal Gray

Series:

One-Shots:

The Unseen Enemy 〇

Blood and Business 〇

The Cost of Loyalty 〇

Whiskey and Secrets 〇

Whispers in the Night 〇

Gray Days & Dark Nights 〇

Headcanons:

Luka Changretta

Series:

Sins in the Shadows ꩜,♧,𖤐,𑁍

One-shots:

Silent Threat 〇,𖤐,♧

Headcanons:

Alfie Solomons

Series:

Old Wounds ꩜,♧,𖤐,𑁍

One-Shots:

The Last Toast ⧉,𖤐,♧,𑁍

A King Among Men 〇,𖤐,♧,𑁍

A Pint and a Promise 〇,𖤐,♧,𑁍

Headcanons:

Sir Oswald Mosley

Series:

The Enemy Within ���,𖤐,♧,𑁍

One-Shots:

Daddy’s Girl 〇,𖤐,♧,𑁍

Pillow Princess 〇,𖤐,♧,𑁍

Echoes in the Alley ⧉,𖤐,♧,𑁍

Tempting the Tyrant ⧉,𖤐,♧,☹︎,𑁍

Headcanons:

The Dark Knight Trilogy or The Batman Trilogy

Dr. Jonathan Crane

Series:

Nightmare in Gotham ꩜,☹︎,𖤐,♧,𑁍

In Your Shadow part 2 ꩜,☹︎,𖤐,♧,𑁍

One-Shots:

Headcanons:

A Quiet Place Part ||

Emmett Abbott

Series:

One-Shots:

Headcanons:

Watching the Detectives

Neil Lewis

Series:

One-Shots:

Headcanons:

Inception

Robert Fischer

Series:

The Siren Files 2 ꩜,𖤐,♧,𑁍

One-Shots:

Hell on Wheels 〇,𖥻,𑁍

Actually Burning 〇,𖥻,𑁍

The Illusion of Control 〇,𖤐,♧,𑁍

Headcanons:

Red Eye

Jackson Rippner

Series:

Unmasked ꩜,☹︎,𖤐,♧,𑁍

One-Shots:

Headcanons:

This master-list will be updated once I have a couple of stories out to the public then this message will disappear.

[mikunology]

ok y'all it's time for me to yap about lore again

I realize about a year ago I made a post chatting about how the Cryptons' super abilities work in this AU and I've been working hard trying to streamline things so they make more sense (I am not good at writing, you guys know this)

but I'm doing my best anyway!!! so let's talk about superpowers!!!! read under the cut!!!

Basic Rundown

So what can the CVs do, anyway? is the main question, I think. To give the basics, the CV line of androids are built with special cores in their bodies - their Hearts, if you will - that give them the unique ability to adapt to and feel human emotion. Part of their "directive" is to gain experiences and find music that will allow them to take on and learn more about human emotions. They use these feelings to carry out their musical activities, such as dancing, singing, and acting.

However, as a result of a certain incident (i.e. their first encounter with a supervillain) their Hearts have unlocked some sort of special power: this power allows the group to use the emotions they've gained and convert them into an energy that Dr. Sakine has dubbed "Voltage". To put it in really plain terms, they're very empathic powers.

Voltage Powers/Music Powers

So what kinda powers are these?

First, the group basically has empathy built in (the psychic kind, not the psychological term). The CVs are able to sense how others feel, even if it might not be readily apparent to the person in question. It's not like mind-reading, exactly, and it's not super in-depth, but they can sense it.

Their Voltage abilities give them the ability to affect people's emotions back, through their singing of course.  For example, singing a happy song can cause a boost of energy in others, or a calming song make them feel calm. (They can do this voluntarily, so it doesn't happen every time they sing.) They can also induce certain feelings or sensations with songs or with their voices, such as infatuation, cold, sleep, etc. However, this power can fail to affect those with strong enough feelings/conviction, and it can get blocked out like ordinary music. (Also, it's worth noting that their singing is more like a strong suggestion than like, actually controlling people's emotions. They can't do that.)

The CVs can also draw energy or strength from others' emotions alongside their own, allowing their abilities to get stronger and more potent. This can be a double-edged sword: positive and negative emotions both work, but positive emotions are more cost-efficient; negative emotions can fuel them, but it can quickly lead to burnout unless controlled well (ex. Rin can gather the rage of others and use it to fuel her abilities for a quick, huge burst, but if she lets the anger start to affect her too much, she can use too much power and burn herself out).

Simple one, but since Voltage is energy, they can use their Voltage and expel it as energy blasts, usually through their hands, cool stuff like that. Miku discovered at one point that she can do it through her eyes (MIKU MIKU BEAM!) to her surprise, lmao. Also, I like to think that one of their strongest moves is what I call "Voltage Wave", where they fire one huge blast at the same time. (They have to do it together, though, it's too difficult to pull off alone. Luka's addition to the team made it even easier!)

On special occasions, if they can gather enough power from the emotions of lots and lots of people (for instance, the entire city) they can access Upgraded Forms (V3/V4X) where their powers become much stronger and they're able to pull off way more techniques. :> Maybe even some new powers as a whole!

Lastly, each of the CVs have a unique ability of sorts when it comes to their Voltage abilities. Miku's ability is that she's twice as empathically sensitive than the others, so she feels what others feel more deeply and is even able to "Synchronize" with them: pretty much allowing her to feel what someone feels like she were directly in their mind (for the record this is not always a good thing). Rin and Len's ability is a lot more simple: by drawing from their bond as siblings and mirror images, they can power up and use some minor electrokinesis (Electric Voice System). Luka...is still figuring hers out. (read: I'm working on it)

So those are their music/Voltage-related powers!

Other Powers

They also have a few "stock" superpowers. Some of these come as a part of being robots.

Flight. They have rockets embedded in their legs that allow them to fly. They can also leap pretty well.

Super Strength. All of them have it, but Rin in particular has it as her specialty. They can lift cars, trucks, large objects and more with a bit of effort. Some of them are better at controlling their strength than others.

Super Hearing. Considering they're also made for music, the CVs can hear extremely well and can hear things from miles away with some focus (like calls for help!).

Super Speed. Of course, they're faster than the average human. They're actually faster while flying, but they can still travel at pretty good speeds on foot as well.

They're very durable/super tough. Being made out of metal underneath their artificial skin, they're very tough and can take a lot of damage, far more than a human possibly could. They are not immune to damage, however - like, they're not Superman and impervious to bullets. Also, while they are robots, their limbs are not exactly meant to come off super easily, but they can function without them as long as their head (brain) and chest (Heart) are intact.

They're functionally immortal. The CVs, being robots, don't age or grow old, and as long as they are left in relatively good condition and can repair themselves, they can live for years and years, possibly even centuries. (I actually think chances are Miku, Rin, Len and Luka will outlive Meiko and Kaito.)

They are able to "download" themselves into other technology. The CVs are capable of uploading their consciousnesses into computers and returning to their physical bodies when needed. Not something they do too often, however, as they can be prevented from accessing their bodies if something goes awry. It should also be kept in mind that as robots, and therefore machinery, they are susceptible to things like glitches, viruses, and hacking.

And that's it, at least for now! I will probably add on as I figure more things out.

[obislittleone]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 2

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, but the good kind. The Hunger Games are a bitch. Finnick should be a warning tbh... mild bullying but nothing wild.

Chapter Summary: After saying goodbye to your family, you and your tribute counterpart will board the train, meeting two mentors who may help you survive the bloodbath of the arena. Of course, one of them is Finnick Odair, so maybe the bloodbath will start before you even reach the capitol.

Word Count: 3.5k

It's only gonna get worse from here, guys... (and by that I mean it gets so much better as far as drama goes)

Lukas looked to you with concern, but couldn’t see your reaction as your features were hidden from him by your downward stare. Your hands were trembling, that was enough of an indication.  “Wait a minute,” Finnick furrowed his brows and leaned forward, examining the face of the boy, which he could see quite clearly. Worry resided there, but not for himself. You felt his eyes shift to you as soon as it happened, and they practically burned holes into the top of your head until you straightened your neck and met his eyeline. “You can’t be serious…”

He was the last winner from district four. A fourteen year old boy reaped during a year without career volunteers. A determined young man, hardened by the sting of the Capitol’s arena. Whispers through four were that it would be the same this year. No career tributes, only what has been reaped. 

Finnick does not think badly of this, quite the opposite, actually. Careers, though mostly prepared for what the games will hold, are almost always the most arrogant tributes. They think the training they have received is enough to prepare them for what it's like to be hunted, and to hunt down and kill others just like them. No amount of sparring rounds, or hours of weapons training can prepare you for that. Not mentally, at least.

He’s made up his mind about this year. He’s tired of watching kids go into that arena and not come out of it. He’s tired of seeing new faces every year, trying to help them only to realize they were never going to win in the first place. He knows it sounds twisted, and he knows what it will cost, but he’s promised himself a victor this year. Whoever is pulled from those bowls today, he knows that he won’t rest until one of them has a house across from his and Mags. He knows that no matter the age, gender, or lack of skills, one of them is going to win. 

He is so determined not to lose two more tributes. He’s so focused on making it his reality, he doesn’t even think about what he might have to do. He just knows that he’s willing to do it, when the time comes. 

Standing in the victor’s circle at the reaping is far better than standing amongst the gender separated crowds, but it still isn’t comforting. His hands are sweaty as he fiddles with them behind his back, waiting on the Capitol escort, Arbin, to finish his practiced lines. 

The first boy is a volunteer. Non career, but built just the same as one. Already, Finnick breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes the initial first pick would not have to go. This boy looked eighteen, seventeen at least, and was strong and handsome. A perfect tribute in all aspects. 

As Arbin made another unhumorous joke, teetering on his toes towards the girl’s bowl, Finnick somehow felt guilty. He’d already assumed the boy would be his victor, and he hadn’t even given the unpicked girl a chance. He hoped, now, that perhaps it was someone less than capable. The thought in and of itself was awful, but he didn’t want to be the one feeling guilty when one tribute left the arena and the other stayed as a permanent addition.

“Mercedes Blythe.”

An unknown name, like most of the others. The face that matched it was sullen… but damn, she was as good a tribute in any comparison to her counterpart. Eighteen, tall, strong looking, and beautiful. The sadness in her eyes reflected that of those she knew, but he couldn’t think about that. All he could think about was that his promise to himself would come at a great cost, whichever way it went. 

-

Arbin was kind, as you’d learned immediately after leaving the stage. He seemed to understand the weight of this event, despite seeming so joyful about it only minutes ago. He’d explained that you were on your way to the district’s processing center, where you would meet with your families one more time before getting on a train to the Capitol. You hadn’t spoken since the reaping. You knew that anything that came out of your mouth would only be unpleasant to hear anyway, and so far, Lukas had done a good enough job of asking all the questions you had on your mind. 

The room you met your family in was small, but it felt too large as soon as you stepped into it. The high ceiling must have played tricks on you. 

Your mother was hysterical, as you felt she must have been since the calling of your name. 

“M-mama, I’m sor-ry,” you sputtered out, reaching for her as she did. Once she had you in her arms she clung as tightly as she possibly could. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. It’s not your fault,” she shook her head, backing away only to look at your face. She had hoped this day would never come, but here you stood, tears on your cheeks and only a minute between now and a long train ride. She didn’t want to even think about what would happen to you once you left her sight. She just wanted to hold you for as long as she could. 

You saw your father standing behind her, holding the baby tightly as if trying to console himself apart from being able to hug you as well. He wouldn’t dare tell his wife to let go, not when he knows she may never see you again, but he wants to give you one last thing that he’s sorry he didn’t give you sooner. 

His gratitude. 

For putting your name in the bowl to eat, instead of taking the rations he needed in order to heal when he’d been so sick. That was the reason you were in this mess. He got sick, and his bones became so frail he broke his arm in a rigging accident… and you paid the price of his healing. If anyone should apologize it's him, but he knows you’ll just struggle to tell him not to. Still, as you leave the arms of your mother and look to him, he has to try. 

“I’m so sorry, little bear,” he tried not to show how much the emotion built up within him, but it boiled over without him even realizing it had. You leaned into him, an arm around your baby brother who may never remember you even existed. In three weeks there would be a victor, and you were almost certain it would not be you.

“I-it’s alright, papa. Y-you take c-care of mama for m-me, okay?” you asked, the nod of his head the best response he could muster and he leaned into you the best he could while holding the baby. He kissed the top of your head, inhaling the scent and trying to commit it to memory, that his daughter’s hair had smelled like fresh spring water from the center of the district. 

“I know I haven’t said it much, but you gotta know we’ve always been so proud of you. And it doesn’t matter what you do in that arena, if you have to do some bad things in order to come home, we will still be proud of you.”

You couldn’t have cried any harder after that, and feeling the arms of your mother once again coming around you, locking you together with your father and brother, you felt the last bit of peace you thought you would ever know. 

The peacekeepers were the ones to break apart the family moment, ushering you away to meet Lukas in the hall. 

-

Arbin pushed you both onto the train hurriedly, knowing that ‘wanting to see the shoreline from here, one last time,’ was only a way that Lukas could stall leaving the district. No one ever leaves their districts, so being made to not only leave, but basically being forced to go and die, made you both nervous to step aboard the transport that would take you there.

“Allow me to introduce your mentors,” Arbin stood by them, kind smiles on both their faces when they first saw you up close. “Mags Flanagan, 11th victor… and Finnick Odair, 65th victor.”

Mags didn’t say anything, but gave a warm handshake to you both, her opposite hand coming overtop of yours when she did each time. Finnick nodded to you both, a bit colder of a greeting, but probably to keep a necessary distance. His games were six years ago, they’re probably still fresh, and he doesn’t like getting close to the tributes. You can understand that. 

“I’m Lukas, this is Merce-” 

“We know. We were at the reaping,” Finnick stopped him short of his sentence, and you couldn’t help but be a bit annoyed at it. Surely, he was not so cold that he would forgo a simple introduction?

“Alright.” Lukas dropped his smile, which he’d forced onto his face originally, and replaced it with a look of irritation. He had his opinion on all of this, obviously, and wanted to know more than just these mentor’s names. “So, what now?”

Arbin seemed shocked at the seemingly polite boy’s lack of decorum for proper conversation. 

“Do we just sit here and wait until they shove us in that arena? Or are you meant to help us?” 

He wasn’t playing around, and his tone along with his words made Finnick smile. 

“Excellent question. See, I’m not much one for pleasantries, but this I can work with,” he turned around when he finished talking, waving his hand for you both to follow him. 

The car on the train you’d been led to was glorious. All the food you could possibly eat, the softest seats you’d ever imagined could be on a transport, and oh, the view was something to take in. The crested and sun topped mountains were unlike anything you’d ever seen before. You weren’t even out of district four, technically, but you’d never been away from the water a day in your life… ironic as it sounds. 

“First things first. Tell me something about yourselves that you think is captivating.”

Captivating? What did that have anything to do with fighting to the death in the hunger games? You hadn’t barely watched them before, too afraid of what it might have meant if you were reaped, but you were certain it wasn’t that kind of show. 

“I can swim a mile in twenty minutes,” Lukas answered first, something easy off the top of his head. 

“That’s not gonna work. You’re from four, half the boys your age or under can do the same. It has to be something personal, intimate. Something that gives insight to you as a tribute.”

“I c-collect rare cockle sh-shells,” you piped up. Finnick turned to you with raised brows, unexpecting the answer you gave, but not because of the words.

He had to blink a few times, and shake his head to get out of his thoughts in order to respond. 

“Yeah, that’s uh-” he cleared his throat, finally able to get it out. “That’s good.”

There’s the catch. Two perfect tributes, except one has a severe stutter.

The conversation continued, but after his reaction, you spoke only when you thought it was absolutely necessary. 

It was sad, the way he looked at you, nearly shocked at first before his eyes fell with a feeling unknown, something akin to pity, but worse. Something that not only felt sorry for you, but wanted to not have to deal with it. Pity, mixed with a kind of annoyance, that was not only evident but outstanding. 

Later in the evening, you were both shown to your rooms, exact copies of one another, separated by a train car in between, where the victor's rooms were. 

The victors, Mags and Finnick, but only one of them seemed really keen on giving his input. The other was just too kind and too gentle, willing herself more to give over her sympathies and compassion. You understood her. She wasn’t violent by nature, and you felt that even though his exterior was cocky and arrogant, Finnick had more beneath his rough and tumble outer layers as well. 

Mags spoke through sign language, and though you weren’t fluent, you could well figure out what she was saying to you. You were not quick to reply each time, but you much preferred the slow movements of your hands to a stuttering word. 

She’d been the one to lead you into the car one over, opening your door for you and allowing you to settle in. It had been a hard day, and she knew that there was nothing worse than having to be thrust into these circumstances. Even in her old age, she remembers it well, remembers her arena and the people who died beside her. She remembers their faces, frozen faces stuck with horror that would forever remain in their lifeless eyes. She remembers her victory tour, and how big of a deal it was. She was the first to experience a new era of the hunger games, something more vile and twisted than before. It was not just a symbol anymore, it was a show, complete pageantry being put on before the eyes of the Capitol, where the children taken must pretend like they are happy about their fate. Where they must smile and wave and endorse the ways of the Capitol before being pushed into an arena to die. 

She sees herself in you. Strong, brave hearted, but still afraid to die. She’s seen herself in many female tributes over the years, having not raised a victor in any thus far. It saddens her to think you will be just another one of the many, with an end just the same. Cold and dead eyes looking to the sky of the arena, stuck to the ground by another tribute you’ll encounter. She hates to think of it, but having lost every one of them, it plagues her. 

You thanked her for helping you, not just for leading you to your room, but for looking out for you. You knew there was only so much she would be able to do, but you appreciated the way she willingly did it, even when Finnick insisted on taking the lead with the preparations this year.

She nodded with a smile before leaving you to rest. The day ahead would be much more intimidating, and she knew how vital it was to be prepared for the culture shock of entering the Capitol.

-

Abrin droned on, listing the great commodities that you were going to have accessible. Coming from a wealthier district, it wasn’t terribly different, but being in the lower class of four, you would take the time to appreciate some things. The promise of constantly hot running water sounds phenomenal. 

All the while he’d been speaking, you opted to simply listen and not join in under any circumstances. It was now your greatest mission to avoid speaking in front of Finnick Odair at any cost. It just so happened that sitting in the main car of the train, there was a dessert cart set up before you, so you didn’t really need to bite your tongue all that much.

“Will we have access to training facilities that mimic the arena?” Lukas’ voice broke the long ramble of the excited Capitol member, and leaned forward in wait for the answer. He felt that it was far more important to have something practical in his favor. What good were any of the other commodities if you didn’t live long enough to use them?

“Not quite anything that mimics the arena. The games are all about the entertainment factor, that’s why everything is kept a secret until they call showtime,” Finnick interjected, a less than favorable look on his face when he mentions a few specific words. “Training facilities are provided but won’t give you any hints, trust me. They will open it to the tributes a day before evaluation, so you’ll have to be wise with the time spent.”

“If we’re unsure of what the arena contains, how will we know what to focus on?” 

You were so grateful for Lukas at this moment. He voiced all of the things you knew you would have a hard time trying to say, and did it in half the time. A swift and simple conversation, and by observing it, you would learn everything you needed to know, 

“Most of the careers will stick with what they’re best at. They test their limits and see how far their strengths can go… it always impresses the game-makers, and often is the deciding factor in what weapons will be available in the cornucopia.”

There was something strange about the way he phrased it. He said it was what most careers did, but you weren’t technically a career, and neither was Lukas, though he volunteered like one.

“W-what do you s-suggest?” You felt embarrassed at the way he looked at you when you asked the question. He was so full of pity. Though you often felt bad for yourself and the way you sounded to others, you didn’t like being looked at like an injured animal. You were just trying to ask a question.

Still he looked intrigued. You didn’t seem very keen on surviving, and yet here you were, inquiring about his personal advice.

“I suggest working on your weaknesses. The arena is completely unpredictable, but it becomes easier when you’ve covered your bases,” he paused, tilting his head around. “Still spend time on testing your strengths. Like I said, this is a show, and people aren’t watching to see you learn a new skill.”

You looked to Lukas, and he almost read your mind. You didn’t want to ask about it, but knew he could bring it up easier, without the hassle of forming the wrong words and them sounded uncertain altogether. 

“There’s always sources of water in the arena... Are there any pools to practice in?” 

Finnick laughed and nodded, looking at Lukas with a face of confusion. 

“There are some… but I hardly think either of you would need to spend time there.”

You lowered your head, continuing to pick at the small foods on the little rolling cart before you. You had been pretty silent this whole time, surely he wouldn’t read it as strange right now. 

Lukas looked to you with concern, but couldn’t see your reaction as your features were hidden from him by your downward stare. Your hands were trembling, that was enough of an indication. 

“Wait a minute,” Finnick furrowed his brows and leaned forward, examining the face of the boy, which he could see quite clearly. Worry resided there, but not for himself. You felt his eyes shift to you as soon as it happened, and they practically burned holes into the top of your head until you straightened your neck and met his eyeline. “You can’t be serious…”

He shook his head laughing, hoping - no, praying - that this was a joke. That you both were messing with him to see how he would react. Perhaps it was even a strange attempt at trying to bond with a mentor through humor, but the longer he stared at you, eyes flicking from yours to Lukas every few seconds, it made clear the dilemma he had in front of him. 

“I can’t believe it…” he scoffed, his earlier laughter now turning into irritation and disgust. He’d promised himself a victor this year, but here stood an incapable pair. 

He sat back into his seat and raked a hand over his face, the heat of the moment making him feel completely and utterly helpless. What could he even do about it?

“I’m a strong swimmer, I can help her if it comes down to it-”

“And what if you’re dead? The second that countdown reaches zero, and you start running, there’s a good chance someone’s gonna beat you to the weapon of their choice. If you die, and she’s depending on you, what then?” 

“I c-can learn,” you tried to interject, but it only made his anger worse. 

“No, sweetheart, you can’t. The only hope you’ll have is in convincing the other tributes you’re as good in the water as anyone else in four.” 

His sarcasm wasn’t helping anything, but this was purely unheard of. 

“She’s stronger than she looks, I can teach her the basics,” Lukas again intervenes, trying his best to defend your honor, which if you’re being honest, there isn’t much to defend anymore. You’re a fraud. They called the women of four mermaids, and you couldn’t even step past the shoreline’s sand.

“I don’t need you telling me what can and can’t be done. She’s a tribute from four who can’t swim… it’s bad enough I have to sell a stutter to the Capitol without adding to my plate,” he spoke too hastily and irrationally, his stress overtaking what he would normally even think to say. 

Lukas looked to him in shock, then immediately to you. There were tears welling in your eyes. How could someone who has gone through the games sit here and say things like that? He knows firsthand that nobody even wants to be here, but to make matters worse, he’s pulling the cards from everyone who has ever made you feel inferior from the time you could talk. 

You stood up in a rush, thighs accidentally hitting the edge of the food cart, before walking away quickly towards the room quarters of the train. 

-

Tags (open)

[generalluxun]

Miraculous Ladybug Secret Santa!

hey @queenhoneybee-exe ! I'm delighted to be your backup Secret Santa for @mlsecretsanta I was also delighted to write a lukloé fic! It's been too long.

I hope you enjoy this one. It was fun to work one in set just before the start of S6. (we can make good things happen anywhere in the timeline!)

Full story below the cut, or you can read it on AO3 Here if you prefer.

Paris was at peace, Luka was not. He knew he should be. Monarch was gone. Marinette and Adrien -Ladybug and Cat Noir- were a couple. Mayor Bustier had implemented a swath of new initiatives to better the city. By all accounts he should be happy. Yet, something lurked.

He lay on his back in the lush green grass of a park. The sky was a playful blue dotted with puffs of harmless clouds. The sounds of the city burbled and overlapped like a brook scattering over smooth stones; and that was just on the level of regular hearing.

Luka tried again to center himself. He closed his eyes. He let his breathing slow. He tuned out the surface sounds and instead listened to the harmonies within. 

Here was a woman trying to wrangle a toddler and an excitable puppy. Someone might call the whole affair noisy. To Luka it was the tittering of a flute, bouncing up and down the scales. There two men argued about the price of a souvenir shirt. Their voices sawed the strings of a humble cello. Others and more, people’s melodies normally wrapped him warmly and brought solace to his heart. This time he could feel them instead laying like a blanket, pooling above him but floating above a mystery he could not unravel. The mystery was inside himself, a place he seldom had cause or time to explore.

Drifting, seeking a peace that would not come, he missed the change in sound at first. By the time he came back to himself the pool of melodies swam with ripples. Luka reached for them but could not grasp their meaning, or even their origin. They matched no sound his ears took in. He opened his eyes and sat up. He scanned his surroundings. 

That’s how he found… her.

She stood at the curb like a Song Thrush, nervous of predators. Her head turned this way and that. Her motions were quick, jerky, unpredictable, and full of tics. He found himself expecting her to hop, and half afraid it would be into the sparse traffic. What overwhelmed him though, was her melody. Or rather, the promise of her melody.  

She was noisy in a way he had never heard before. She had not one instrument, but an entire orchestra pit. The instruments warred with each other, passing in and out of being. It was as if a great symphony was waiting to be played, only the musicians were all trapped in a loop of warming up. The portent poured itself into that space that had plagued him, filling it up.

I have to know what this means.

He was on his feet and jogging across the street before his conscious mind caught up with his body. Her head snapped around, the wide-brimmed sun hat she wore revealed her face. Deep blue eyes sized him up in an instant as only prey animals could. It dawned on him he had seen her before. The gold of her hair, the sharp line of her jaw; this was Chloé Bourgeois.

Her eyes widened. The instruments flared. Brass bludgeoned the strings. Luka tripped on the curb, stopping beside her. He knew these next words were important. They had to be good. “You’re Chloé Bourgeois.”

Not his best work.

She recoiled. One hand came up, fingers moving as if to flick… a ponytail that was no longer there. Instead they brushed the ends of a new ear-length bob that had taken its place. “Who’s asking?”

Tympani rumbled a threat too high-pitched to hold weight. Still, Luka knew he had to get this back on track. Over eagerness would cost him. He took a calming breath and straightened up to the peak of his summer-growth-spurt height. “The name’s Luka,” he murmured against the backdrop of the city, “Pleasure to meet you.”

There was a hint of near-recognition before her eyes skittered and her head turned, only to come back to him. There were notes among the jumble, but not enough yet for a full bar. A smile tugged the corners of her lips for less than the space of a blink before a frown strangled it. “That makes one of us. What do you want?”

“Well, I uh-” Confrontation was not his forté.

The venom in her tone was neutered by the defensive turn of her shoulders. Luka tried again.

“You looked… upset! I couldn’t let that stand, so I thought I’d come over and see what the problem was.”

She looked him down and up, measuring. A judgement was in the works. The uncertainty of the outcome reached inside of him and tickled. Good sense was telling him to leave. Curiosity was demanding he stay. He had always listened to good sense before. Ignoring it now, felt powerful. The symphony settled, but just as he expected it to play, her voice cut through his perception.

“Well, you’re right. You’ve got eyes at least. It’s this stupid Uber thing. They don’t let limos in the city anymore -how lame is that?- So I had to call an -ugh- cab, but it’s not here, so I’m stuck out here where just anyone can walk up and blather on at me.”

A tittering of flutes, coy and mocking, fluttered up out of the sea of protean music. They dropped back into the mix as quickly as they rose though. To match their fall pain ghosted across those bronzed features. Chloé’s head turned sharply again, looking up the street.

Luka fell back to a classic, “A ride is all you need? I’ve got my bike chained at the park across the street. I can get you anywhere in Paris, free of charge.”

He gestured and it drew her eyes back to him before they followed his direction. Instead of acceptance or the more likely rejection he got a raised eyebrow, “A bike? Really? I wouldn’t want you killing yourself trying to chauffeur me and my luggage.”

The flutes returned with a background of strings. The two played around each other in a spiral of humor. She laid her hand on the handle of the single rolling bag she had with her. It was gold, embossed, and it could only have faded into the background beside a creature such as this.

That thought was unexpected, yet the thrill of having managed to draw a few bars of the same melody out twice turned apprehension into excitement. Luka pressed, with what he hoped was a smirk savvy enough to match her energy, “Just the one bag? I could carry that and you to England if I needed to. In all honesty, with what I’ve heard, I expected more.”

Bowstrings squealed across strings in a discordant shriek. Her eyes widened. Luka mentally scrambled, trying to restore the music.

He blurted out, “I mean, you’re just going to the hotel right? That’s not far at all.”

The shriek became a single tone; the high pitched whine of a flatlining heart. That musical tension translated into a physical one as well, the muscles across her face tensed into severity. A red flush came and went, leaving her bone-pale beneath the foundation. A hand, raised in playful gesture a moment before, curled into a white knuckled fist. The whine seeped through her whole body, a resonance that would shake her to pieces.

He’d done this.

He panicked.

He kissed her.

A kiss to restore life, a kiss to stave off death. That’s how it went right? Those were supposed to be romantic though, not a rough collision of lips on lips. Not one party frozen while the other holds them desperately by the shoulders, willing life into them. They all end with fluttering eyelashes and smiles, not one person flinching so intensely they headbutt the other.

“What on earth!” She wiped her lips with the hand so recently a fist.

Luka was holding his nose, blinking away tears. It hurt, but the whine had bloomed again. Drums rallied, brass blared. It was a cacophony but it was music. He smiled through the pain, “Sorry, I had to.”

“Had too?” She shoved him, but his keyed up senses felt the way her fingertips curled just before the contact would be broken. Her nails dug in and snagged in his sweatshirt, not letting him escape.

 “Mouth to mouth, the only way to save you from dying.”

He heard himself saying the words. He heard the little smarmy lilt filtering into his tone. He knew of these kinds of things, the same way he knew you could write music in C-sharp Major. He had never had occasion for either.

C-sharp Major. Seven Sharps. What use did he have for sharps? What use did the man of the house have for sharps? What use did a dutiful big brother have for sharps? What use did his mother’s conscience have for sharps? What use did Marinette’s stress relief have for sharps? What use did Adrien’s wingman have for sharps? What use did a middle school band’s manager have for sharps? What use did the level headed intuition hero have for sharps?

The girl before him was made of sharps, and Luka had been hoarding his for an entire lifetime. In response to his quip there was the rattle of snare drums. There was shock and recognition upon those painted features. The volume swelled in retaliation but the notes hung at the last second.

Luka sliced through the pause. He caught her still outstretched hand. “Now that I’ve saved you, I have to see you to where you are going. I won’t take no for an answer.”

Who was this Luka? He was the other side of every smile. He was the paymaster of every concession. He was so many self-denials that they had become a whole person. That person stared into deep blue eyes more fraught with emotion than he had ever seen. Some had precluded him, but some he had caused. That truth excited him.

“Really?” she hissed, hand slipping like a daydream from his grasp. She turned and tilted her head, the brim of her hat hiding her face. “No is the answer anyone who knew me would expect, and be grateful for.”

A slight tilt of her head back. The curve of her cheek peeked out from under her hat, and a sliver of deep blue cut by the onyx of an intrigued pupil.

Luka ducked his head and craned around into that invitation. He chased her gaze but when he caught it he found challenge not fear, and a lifted chin. The trumpets found their voice, pressing him back but his own repressed melody answered. Strained harsh chords from an electric guitar flowed through his veins.

Pricked from within he countered, “Well, then you’ll have to give me the chance to get to know you first, how else will I understand?”

She stepped closer, the symphony seemed to have found its footing. The Sonata-Allegro was in the offing. Her blue eyes narrowed up from under her brim, “You’ll embarrass yourself. I’ll laugh.”

Luka folded his arms, wearing that smarmy smile again. He leaned down closer, close enough to recall a foolhardy kiss moments past. The guitar riffs rippled up through him, licking like flames from the tips of his hair, “Then I’ll get to hear what that laugh sounds like.”

“Fine!” she pushed him again. “Go! Go on. -Ridiculous- You’d better not let me fall!”

She was shoving him as she spoke, turning him around back towards the park and pulling her suitcase in his wake. Luka stumbled forward under the prodding, giddy. His mind was racing, trying to keep up with these unexpected impulses. The electric guitar was thrumming out a tune he had never heard before. It wasn’t love, no. It was anticipation. It was hunger.

“This thing?” she derided when he stopped to unchain.

In response he snagged her bag and lashed it to the Pannier rack with two deft motions. He raised a challenging brow. The symphony had subsided. He had a deep need to revive it.

He mounted up.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” she groused. Her arms were folded, her shoulders hunched. Her bottom lip threatened a pout. Luka was silent for several more long seconds. Her right hand drifted up to flick back long hair that was still not there. Strings rose in tense quarter notes. He was learning.

“Hop on top of your luggage, sidesaddle. Isn’t that how all rich girls ride?”

The strings threatened a screech and Luka’s instincts warned even this new uncontrolled side. He extended a hand palm up at the end of his taunt, to assist her in taking her perch. She kept surprisingly good balance. One hand gripped his shoulder tightly. Nails dug in. It stung and revitalized in equal measure.

“Where to?” Luka asked.

She rattled off an address distractedly, then stretched out her other arm to point across the green.  “Oh, looks like my ride finally showed up.”

The throaty laugh that bubbled up behind him broke the symphony free again. The parts were disjointed, playing from different sheet music, but for a moment they were strident and enveloping.

All sharps.

Luka laughed too, without looking, and started to pedal. “He can’t take what I’ve rightfully stolen.” -----------------------------------------------------------

The address was close- too close. Luka had won the game. He had this new music in hand. He wanted more time with it, more time to experience it. What to do though? His normal routine would be to let it go. He had offered to do a thing, he would do it and damn his own desires.

The sharps prodded him. He took a risk. He took a wrong turn.

He took another, then another.

She doesn’t know where she’s going.

The thought was selfish, and brought elation. He rationalized- He was taking her there; the long way.

“So where am I taking you?” he called back over his shoulder to prompt her. The symphony had subsided into a burbling precursor again.

She leaned forward, the grip on his shoulder tightening. Sweatshirt and t-shirt combined were nothing before that manicure. The scent of her came with the motion. Not even the wind could keep it at bay. Musky, with a metallic aftertaste, like a chemical reaction tickling the roof of his mouth.

“To my home of course. What, do you think I take my luggage for little outings?”

The strings were peaking through the rush of air. Luka probed, “Where is home?”

Deadpan, “Where you are supposed to be taking me.”

A flight of flutes darted out of the chaos to circle their heads -amusement. Drawing them out felt like winning a prize.

Luka chuckled, “Yes, but what is where I am taking you, my precarious passenger?”

She withdrew, taking her scent and the flutes with her. Woodwinds could be faintly heard, in flats not sharps. No answer was forthcoming. It didn’t feel the same as before. His mind went into overdrive trying to puzzle it out. He nearly ran into a car that had been signaling its turn.

His sudden course correction earned a squawk from behind him and two sets of nails clawed into his shoulders while her hat brim smashed itself to the back of his neck. The pain brought clarity though. Clarity- the opposite of-

“Sorry,” Luka turned down a second stretch of the Seine, he felt the urge to risk passing his home. Would anyone see? What would they think?

He banished that tangential thought. Clarity the opposite of-

Confusion, “What I meant was, what is home like?”

He’d nearly missed the tympani amid trying to not die. It was surpassed by strings that belied her breezy words, “Oh you know, a house. A place with rooms; a bed I suppose.”

“You don’t know what your own home looks like?”

Strings and more strings. They screeched towards a crescendo. Before Luka could defuse it though, Chloe did so herself. “Are we going to be there soon? Can’t this silly little bike go any faster?”

He was technically caught and in the wrong. The urge to placate was overwhelming. It wasn’t placating that made the orchestra play though…

“Faster?” he called back, “Hold on.”

Luka leaned forward and upped his pace. The nails on his shoulders had to shift to his waist. He pedaled hard, his target was already close at hand; Le Boulevard Peripherique.

No bikes allowed on the Northwestern leg. He wasn’t concerned about that.

“What are you-?” didn’t stop him. The sharps were calling; not hers, his. What Luka would never dream of doing- no that was wrong. He had dreamed, in so many quiet nights. He had buried those dreams under other people’s needs.

He rode out into the fast moving traffic. Horns blared. He pedaled harder, his chest heaving. “Going fast! Isn’t this what you wanted? Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

A car rushed by on one side. Then on another. Luka was pushing, but the metal herd thundered around him faster. “Scared?!” Trumpets and brass backed by snares. She shook him from behind,”Go faster!”

“Faster!” he called back.

A truck rumbled by on the right, horn blaring. By the time it passed he was laughing, giddy. Luka stood on his pedals, those nails scrambled to keep hold on him. Upright,  he added his weight to the mix. His legs burned. His spokes were less than a blur. The bike rocked precariously back and forth with every downward thrust of the pedals. 

“Faster!” he shouted again, panting too hard to laugh.

He had raced ahead of planning, raced ahead of responsibility. It was exhilarating. It was freeing. He had no idea what would happen next.

What did happen was beyond even the unexpected though.

Clinging to him, hand over hand, his passenger pulled herself up his back. She hooked two fingers into the back of his collar. From the angle she was… standing?

”Faster!” she yelled.

Luka risked a glance up, and was treated to that wide brimmed hat being ripped from her head, lost to the wind wake. She was perched atop the rocking luggage rack, riding like the equestrian vault. Her sapphires shone, locked on the horizon. Her skin glowed bronze in the late summer sun. The symphony bloomed in full harmony. Luka forgot to pedal.

She turned that adrenaline-mad gaze down on him. He forgot to breathe.

“Faster!” she yelled again, yanking his collar like reins.

Luka snapped his eyes back to the road. The burning in his limbs and lungs was gone. He growled, hungry. He went faster.

They were a sight. They were a menace. They swerved in their lane. Horns and curses serenaded them. They laughed amid it all. The near misses added up though, a warning of payment due.

Luka took the next off ramp, coasting down from breakneck speed. Laughter turned to wordless giggles from both of them. Luka was on autopilot, waiting for his heart to catch up. The bike juddered once as she sat down heavily behind him, leaning sprawled across his back with her head on his shoulder with her music in his ears.

Too late Luka realized his error. They were too close to the destination. In his haze he’d taken them the rest of the way, and his foot dropped as they came to a stop before he could work up another excuse to continue.

The end of motion reminded them both that the world still existed beyond their fingertips. She pushed off him -not roughly this time- and slid from the back of his bike. Luka was still reeling, trying to realign a lifetime around the last few minutes.

She took a step towards the house, white sides ensconced within an old stone wall. Her head tilted just enough for her fringe to brush her cardigan. “It looks… nice?”

It sounded more like she was evaluating his home than her own. When she looked back at him it registered, she was asking for confirmation. Luka nodded, “It does. Neat, charming, affluent, but not excessive.”

She turned back fully and clasped her hands in front of her. The symphony had gone wandering again, but this time the instruments were not at war. They were simply… uncertain?  She stepped back towards him. Words formed behind her gaze but never made it to her lips. Luka felt like an entire novel was cowering under his tongue as well.

She gestured awkwardly. “My bag…”

“Oh!” Luka almost fell, getting off his bike. His feet weren’t cooperating and his legs were charging interest on exhaustion. He unstrapped her bag as deftly as he had loaded it, took it down and wheeled it within her reach.

He knew he had to think of something… A sharp glinted within his chest.

She reached for it, but he held on over that cocky grin, “You owe me.”

She startled. The way her eyes widened he could fall in. “What?”

Luka rolled it a few cm closer to her and let go. “You owe me. You made it so I had no choice but to kiss you. You’ve got to give me a chance to get you to kiss me.”

Shock melted into a tangle of expressions he couldn't quite unwind. The symphony played on though; inexpertly, as if unsure of the various parts. The whole was cut silent without warning though. Those painted lips turned into a thoughtful frown.

“You’ve no reason to hang around someone like me, and I can’t be seen anywhere with someone like you. Th-thank you, for the ride… all of it.”

Another novel went unspoken. Unrestrained Luka was a newborn creature, he was tired out and could not push further. Insightful Luka wasn't even sure he should. The sharpness about her now felt like glass, not steel. In the end he just nodded wordlessly.

He got on his bike.

She turned.

He dithered with his gears.

She began to walk, taking out a key from her pocket.

He lifted his helmet -forgotten in its bracket all this time- and put it on.

She reached the narrow iron gate in the stone wall.

Luka breathed out regret and flipped up his kickstand.

“I- A Chauffeur!”

His eyes snapped to the sound of her voice. She held her key in one hand, gesturing as she spoke in a rush. “I will need a chauffeur, and… someone to run errands! I have to buy food… somewhere… I can’t be expected to do it all on my own.”

Luka knew to grab a lifeline when one was thrown. He smiled. “Deliveries are my specialty.”

She came back at a trot, her bob bouncing. She stuffed a business card into his hand. “Text my number, so I have yours. I-”

She seemed to remember herself, or perhaps remember the world. She straightened.

Her tone turned cool, “I will contact you if I have needs.”

He didn’t chuckle, didn’t laugh, didn’t punch the sky and shout for joy. He kept his smile small, deniable. “It will be my pleasure, Miss Bourgeois.”

She turned crisply around, but with her back to him, “Chloé.”

“Chloé.”

The klang of the iron gate closing was the next thing Luka was aware of. He blinked. She was gone.

The symphony remained.