#ver fic

[verfound]

For the ask game: Dress to Kill or Paper Notes?

(I couldn't make up my mind, so you get to choose which one to share about)

Both are just notes, apparently, without anything actually written in them 😂

Dress to Kill is a Juleka & Marinette getting ready for a date? Not sure if it's a double date or separate dates on same night & they're just helping each other primp (bc ew I love you but no double dates with my brother gross). I just wanted some Jules & Mari bonding that led to breaking Luka & Rose's brains 😂 (Luka: "...Rose, next date, we need to get back at them for being so gorgeous."  Rose: "...sure.  Right.  If we survive this.")

Paper Notes in Swan Minor is...angry at me now that I'm looking at it again & going oh yeah... 😂 There were these origami towels, right, and Quick's "Couffaines Take All The Classes" headcanon, and essentially Marinette is Stressed AF, right? Lycée's just started, Whatever-moth is still going hard, and she's just burnt out & tired. Stuff Happens that lead to Luka leaving little origami swans in her locker? Except the swans have little notes in them. Little bits of encouragement & affection. (“Your smile lights up my day.  I haven’t seen it as often lately.  I hope your day is amazing so you can smile again.  C: “)

And it all just kinda spirals on him. She can't figure out who's leaving the notes, he's scared to tell her it's him, and things just kinda get out of control. He comes clean eventually, but it takes a hot minute to get there. (This might be the one that "I couldn't be one more burden for you"/"you're not a burden" bit came from. I know I've used that line before & it's just sitting here in the notes like shut up, Luka 😂

(He also took a calligraphy class at some point, and he's writing the notes in calligraphy so Marinette won't recognize his writing. Bri, Rose, and Juleka are all fervently screaming "YOU'RE AN IDIOT" in the background 😂)

[verfound]

Wip game: „Dead girls tell no tales“ sounds interesting👀

...I feel like I've talked about this one before, but I honestly can't remember if it was on the Disco or Tumblr. I can't find it if it was here, so here we go 😂

Do y'all remember nonbinaryluka's fic Dead Girl Walking? Tell No Tales was started as an unofficial continuation. It was supposed to be a surprise, before it got backburnered/stalled and so much time passed with nothing to show for it. Y'all know how much I love my dead things 😂

“You’re late.”

A wry smile twisted his lips.  He supposed he was.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, reaching up with a gloved hand to rub at his eyes.  “The bus broke down about an hour outside the city.”

He was later than that.  They both knew it.

“I thought there’d be more people, but I guess it’s not surprising.  It’s pretty cold out.”

He hummed.  He was the only one around today, but he had been hoping for that.  He needed to be alone with her.  He owed her that much.

“It was warm the last time I saw you.”

His throat burned.  It wasn’t an accusation – it would never be an accusation, not with her – but it felt like one all the same.

“Sorry,” he mumbled again.  He brought his coffee to his mouth, pausing to breathe in the steam before he took a long sip.

“You should have brought your lunch.  We could have had a picnic.”

“…that’s morbid,” he said, chuckling.  “People don’t do that.”

“Sure they do.  Where is it…Mexico?  They have an entire holiday for it.”

“Mexico’s nice,” he said, swirling the coffee in the cup.  “You’d like it.  Warm.”

“…I’ve missed you.”

…his throat was still burning, and it wasn’t because of the coffee.

He sat down on the grass, ignorant of the cold seeping through his jeans.  He popped the lid off the to-go cup, took another sip, and poured the rest onto the grave of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

It was the least he could do, he couldn’t help but think.

Since she had missed their coffee date.  Since he had missed her funeral.

…since he had climbed onto that tour bus and run away instead of facing a Paris without her.

“Yeah,” he sighed, hanging his head and closing his eyes against the sight of her headstone.  It didn’t help when he still saw her clear eyes crinkling with a beautiful smile he’d written so many stupid songs about in his mind.  It didn’t help when he couldn’t shake her ghost.  When he didn’t really want to.  “I’ve missed you, too.”

[verfound]

I’m curious about soooo many titles in that list but to narrow it down to one, I’d be curious to know more about “Oh You’re Vocal” for the WIP tag game 👀

...if you knew how many times I've opened & closed this one over the years 😂 Bc I want to work on it, I still love the idea, but...I'm afraid nothing new's been added since Chi asked about it last time. 😂

Wanna pick another one? 😅🖤

[verfound]

WIP Tag Game

....ooooh boy I got tagged by like five people for this over the past few weeks, and I have been absolutely comatose with Life Stuff, so I kinda missed all of it? 😂😅

Ok so the rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous and tag as many people as you have WIPs. People send an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then you post a snippet or tell them something about it! :)

It's been a hot minute, so why not? I'm just gonna screenshot 'em under the cut, and uh...yeah have fun 😂

(...I don't know enough people to tag this many so uh whoever wants to? God I've been so...not blocked, not per se, but I have had zero batteries with everything going on so writing has Not been a thing. Maybe this'll get things kicking? Maybe? 🤞)

Friendly reminder that "Scratchpad" in any given folder is just scraps/cutting room floor stuff from other fics that I couldn't use in final drafts but didn't really want to part with yet.

Main MLB Folder (186):

Dingo Files (59):

House Band (48):

Winters (32):

[verfound]

FIC: "What's on the Roof?" (MLB; Luka & Roger)

Rating: Teen

Characters/Pairings: Luka Couffaine, Roger Raincomprix, Dingo King (OC); Luka Couffaine & Roger Raincomprix, Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Summary: Luka was just trying to do Tom a favor when Roger pulls him over with a very baffled question: “What the hell is on your roof?”

Author’s Notes/Warnings: …I have been running on absolute fumes this month.  There were things that needed done today, but apparently I forgot about Juneteenth & all the places I needed to go are shut down for the holiday.  So I slept in until noon and bullshitted this based on a crazy thing yesterday instead.  😂

“What’s on the Roof?”

It had been a long fucking day, and Luka was exhausted.  He waved at the older man who had signed for the last delivery, double-checked that the back of his ma’s old van was locked up (which currently meant ensuring the bungee cords were hooked tight), and trudged back to the driver’s seat before climbing in.  He just had to check back in at the bakery, and then he could head home and crash.

God, his bed was going to be so nice after a day like this…

It hadn’t started bad.  He’d had a gig the night before, but even if he had gotten in late the show had been great and he wasn’t necessarily complaining about that.  The problem had come barely three hours later, when he’d woken up to pee.  Honestly, that was the only reason he’d seen the message.  If the text hadn’t arrived right as he was crawling back into bed, he probably would have slept right through the notification and following phone call.

The text had been from Marinette, telling him she knew he’d had a show the night before and he could ‘TOTALLY SAY NO’.

The phone call had been from Tom, and…was a little harder to ignore.

[verfound]

I’m working on reading all 120+ mlb lukanette fanfictions you have made and it’s a blessing every click 🫶🏼 thank you!

oh my God are there that many already 😂

Thank you so much! 🖤🖤🖤 I'm glad you're enjoying them! 🖤

(...I shouldn't share this. I shouldn't. I'm embarrassing myself. But I accidentally copied my Miraculous WIP folder into another folder the other day. And there were over 900 files. Granted, the folder itself says 153 - but some of those are subfolders with chapters/series and I have no idea how it was copying the Scriv files...yeah I have a problem 😂)

[verfound]

MINIFIC: Oct. 23: Day 28: Rotting (MLB, Lukanette, DLM AU)

I…kinda had this planned before things happened.  Slightly regretting this plotline now but determined to see it through.  I’m apologizing in advance.  I hate myself a little.

(…yeah I’m…forgive me if I don’t proof/edit this one, guys.  I couldn’t finish it without breaking down and I can’t read through it.)

For @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers October Minific Challenge 2023.

Read on Ao3

To Feel Alive Again: Ch28: Rotting

Bach snapping at Marinette was just the beginning.  Or, maybe, it was the continuation.

Because Luka loved Bach, but he couldn’t deny that something had been off with the dog ever since his owner had passed.  Ever since he was supposed to pass.

The little shit – the kid that was supposed to reap Bach, that Luka had technically stolen him from – had warned him.  You know what happens if I don’t.  And Luka did, but…Luka had chosen to ignore him anyway.  Because it had been a bad day.  Because he was sick of losing.  Because, just once, Luka wanted to choose life instead of the constant death that surrounded his undead existence.  Because Bach was special, and if anyone could defy the odds or fate or Death or whatever you wanted to call it…

But Bach was the gentlest soul Luka had ever met.

Bach never snapped at anyone – even when he’d been a young pup who couldn’t hear and should have snapped at things he felt threatened by.

Luka knew what it meant.

Luka didn’t like it.

Luka didn’t want it.

But Luka was powerless to stop it.

“I tried to warn you,” the brat said.  Luka kept his eyes on the fluffy head on his lap, his mouth twisting as he continued to run his hand along Bach’s fur.  He’d almost look like he was sleeping, if you didn’t know any better.

But Luka was a reaper.

Luka always knew better.

“…just take him and go, you asshole,” he said gruffly.  The kid walked over and bent down, scratching by Bach’s hind legs.  The dog gave a shiver, and then he slumped against Luka.

It was too easy to pretend Bach was fine.

Luka was so sick of pretending.

He heard a great woof, and he looked up to find Bach’s spirit standing with his back to him, his tail wagging as, across the cemetery, shimmering lights appeared.  If Luka squinted just right, he could almost pretend he could see Quick waiting on the other side.

“Bach!  C’mere, boy!” he thought he heard her call, and Bach gave another great, happy woof before bounding off towards the lights, his tail wagging all the while.

[verfound]

MINIFIC: Oct. 23: Day 12: Burn (MLB, Lukanette, DLM AU)

I swear these weren’t meant to connect like this.  I feel like that bit in Hamilton, after “It’s Quiet Uptown”, when Jefferson comes out going “Can we get back to politics now?”  And Maddison is sniffling beside him going “PLEASE?”

For @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers October Minific Challenge 2023, though this one really isn't Lukanette at all. More...worldbuilding? We'll get back to the dorks shortly. 🖤

Read on Ao3

To Feel Alive Again: Ch12: Burn

Philece’s head tipped back against the soft cushions of her favorite wingback chair.  It was a luxury she had found in a secondhand shop back in the seventies, and while it had seen better days it was still the most comfortable chair she’d ever had.

She needed a little comfort that night.

She raised her cigarette to her lips, taking a long drag before slowing blowing it out.  She watched the smoke rise as she tapped the burning end against the lip of the ashtray on the table beside her, pretending she could see patterns in the wisps.  For someone like Marinette, she would probably be inspired to design flowing skirts and billowing tops, some artistic shit in hues of gray and blue and white.  The woman Philece used to be would see fractals, chemical bonds spinning to life in a vast universe she could never hope to fully comprehend.

The woman Philece was now just saw smoke.

A knock on her door drew her attention, and she sighed as she left her cigarette burning in the tray and went to answer the door.  She frowned when she opened it to find no one.  The sound of a heavy door closing down the hall alerted her to someone leaving the hall, and her eyes flicked towards the stairwell that would lead to the lower floors a second too late.  She hung her head, sighing, and paused when she saw a manila envelope on the carpet outside her door.

The daily assignments, delivered by a person from Upper Management she had never actually seen.  It was the same every day around this time.  She just hadn’t realized it had gotten so late.  A sticky note was on top of the envelope, and Philece frowned as she bent to retrieve it.

You don’t have to let them hate you.

Her lips pursed as she read the note, thinking of Fred and Marinette and how angry they had been at the morgue.  How hurt.  You could have changed the appointment, Marinette had said.  Accused.  Like Philece had done all of this just to fuck with her and not because she was just doing her job.

You could have changed it.

Except she couldn’t.

Because death didn’t work like that.

Philece didn’t assign the reaps.  She just passed along the information and made sure the job got done.  Whoever decided which reaper got which souls, that was above her paygrade.  She had never questioned it before, and she wasn’t about to start now.

The days of Philece Mendeleiev questioning the universe were long past, anyway.

She closed the door behind her and turned back into the flat.  By the time she returned to her cigarette, it had burnt out.  She dropped the envelope in the chair with a sigh.

She’d look at it in the morning.  After the past few days, the only thing Philece wanted was a nap.