#dlm au

[pluttobones]

He secretly loves it

[verfound]

MINIFIC: Oct. 23: Day 1: Autumn (MLB, Lukanette, DLM AU)

...I was gonna do these, and then I wasn't gonna do em, and then work life flipped off creative life and here I am, joining the fun at @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers's late. Using the Ghostober 2021 prompts here. Just having fun. 👀

Read on A03

To Feel Alive Again: Day 1: Autumn

A chill breeze whispered through the street, nipping at the edges of exposed skin peeking out from coats and scarves.  Marinette pulled her own coat – a lumpy, gray thing she had lifted off a reap a few weeks back – and tried not to scowl.

She used to love this time of year.  Before.

The changing of the seasons meant a new wardrobe.  Layers of material, vibrant splashes of color, boots and hats and scarves – so many accessories.  She used to have the cutest peacoat, made from a deep burgundy wool that always kept her warm on the coldest fall days.  She had embroidered a swirl of leaves around the hem in a rich gold thread, and she had even found golden buttons shaped like maple leaves to line the front.  She had been so proud of that coat.  She’d lived in it every fall for years.

…she hadn’t died in it, though.

She’d died in the spring.

When it was too warm for such a heavy coat.

She supposed it was funny, in a way.  Before, the fall – a season marked by death – had always brought a new life to her, but the spring – the season for life and renewal – had brought with it her death.

Now she saw it everywhere.

It was hard to love things anymore.  In the After.

“You’re still allowed to love things,” Théo had said, not unkindly, one morning over breakfast.  It was a rare moment of seriousness for him, and if she hadn’t been in such a foul mood she might have appreciated it.  Instead, she hunkered down deeper in the gray coat she hated and stared – glared – out the window.  She hummed, not really agreeing or disagreeing.  She didn’t see the way Luka glanced up at her from his coffee, a small frown playing at the edges of his mouth.

She did see the large, chunky sweater folded on the foot of her bed when she came home a week later, though.

“…Fred, what…did you leave this here?” she called, her hands trembling as she held the sweater up.  It was obviously handmade – not as good as she could make, but absolutely perfect in its little imperfections.  The stitches pulled just a little too tight or a little too loose, the slightly uneven ribbing along the neck, the braiding that hadn’t been blocked properly zigzagging down the front…it spoke of time, and care, and things Marinette hadn’t let herself think about in far too long.  And it was soft, the yarn used to make it obviously high quality.  She knew just how much a sweater like this would cost – more than she could dream of affording these days, when she was still struggling to hold down an after-death job.

“Hmm?” Fred called, popping his head in the room.  When he saw the sweater, his eyebrows lifted.  “Ah, that?  No, it wasn’t me.  Luka dropped it off while you were out.  Said something about pink suiting you?”

Marinette’s head jerked up, surprised, but Fred was just smiling at you.

“You’re still allowed to love things, Marinette,” he said, inclining his head towards her.  “You’re still allowed to feel.”

She looked back at the sweater, her lips pursed and her eyes burning with tears she refused to shed, and didn’t answer.  Fred sighed and flipped his hat onto his head, nodding at her.

“I’m off,” he said, tipping his hat at her.  “Make sure you eat tonight, kid, all right?

…he probably hadn’t meant a mug of hot chocolate and a plate of macarons, but as she hunkered down in the nicest sweater she had ever worn and watched her old favorite sappy movie on the cracked tv…well.

At least when you’re dead you don’t have to worry about calories.

[verfound]

FIC: LBSC SFC: “’Til Death, or Whatever” (MLB/Lukanette (DLM AU))

Rating: T / PG-13 / Teen

Characters/Pairings: Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng; Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Summary: Marinette has to get a nice dress for her next reap, which will be at a wedding.  She’s never actually been to a wedding before.  Luka’s been to too many.  (DLM AU)

Author’s Notes/Warnings: I know it’s still WIPvember, but I needed a palate cleanser and I was dying to use this prompt.  xD  Pulling the Wildcard option for this week’s @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers SFC to use the previous prompt: “I know we said ‘Til death do we part’ but we never covered undeath” (from 10/28’s challenge).  Jumping back into my DLM AU (from the Murder May collection) for this one.  Luka and Marinette are grim reapers, Marinette’s still adjusting to the whole being dead thing, and that’s about all you need to know for  this one, I think?

Just a reminder: LBSC Sprint Fic Challenge Guidelines: Three 15-minute sprints to write the fic.  24 hours to edit/post.  (Come say hi! Join us in the challenge!  It’s a great group full of cheerleading and spitballing and zaniness!)

“’Til Death, or Whatever”

“What about this one?” Luka asked, pulling a dress off the rack and turning towards her.  He held it up to his frame like he was the one who was going to be wearing it, and Marinette felt her lips twitch in a smile.  She stepped over to him and lifted the skirt away from his legs, inspecting it.

It wasn’t something Marinette would have worn, back when she was alive, but she supposed it could be something Emma wore.  It was a cream color with a lilac lace overlay, and it hung in a straight line without any flare.  It was…nice enough, she supposed, but otherwise boring.  She took the dress from Luka and turned towards the mirror, holding it up to her body and frowning.  It was too long for her: she would trip and kill herself again before they made it to the ceremony.

“Do you like it?” she asked, glancing at him in the mirror to gauge his reaction. He looked impassive as ever.