"If you are a dreamer, come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer...if you're a pretender, come sit by my fire, for we have some flax golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!" - Shel Silverstein
....I was trying to be witty. That's not very witty. Hi, guys, I'm Ver, and as you can see I make bad jokes. 😂
This is my personal blog, so it tends to be a hodgepodge of multifandom whatever that catches my fancy? Yes, I do post fics here instead of maintaining a separate writing blog. I'm a bit of an anal retentive with OCD tendencies, so I'm usually pretty good about labelling and tagging. I'm mostly writing/posting Miraculous Ladybug these days (mostly Lukanette, mostly ignoring everything after S3, mostly living in my own fanon that finds Lukanette with a House Band on a Misfit Farm, mostly not a fan of Adrien/Chat Noir), but I am a chronically obsessed fangirl and you never know what's gonna pop up here.
I can be found on Ao3 under verfound. I do not post on the Pit/FF.net anymore, but I've been there under Veritas Found since 2001 (and am slowly moving those fics over to the Archive). On here, my fics can be found under #ver fic (the posts always link to the Archive). I also write explicit fic sometimes, which is found at #ver's lemonade stand (and because I think I'm funny, sometimes #lulu lemon). I'm awful about maintaining masterposts, but I do have this handy Chronological Guide for Winters that I'm trying to keep up with? I also doodle sometimes, which can be found under the tag #ver draws (seeing a pattern yet? 😂). I also have this handy guide for the House Band ages.
Aaaand I think that's everything? Oh. Yeah. Dingo King is my dumbass son, I'm only a little sorry, and I have no problem with people kidnapping him - I just ask to be credited and a link? (I maintain a collection on Ao3 I like to keep the fics in so people can find him in one place.) Same applies to Bri and the Band. C:
Ask box is always open. I try to respond in a timely fashion, but that doesn't always happen and I do apologize for that. 🖤 I think that's the important stuff? Idk. I always feel like I'm forgetting something. Someone will call me out on it later I'm sure. 😂
Characters/Pairings: Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng; Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Rating: Teen and Up
Summary: Luka should be sleeping. It’s a big day tomorrow, after all. Except his sister’s banging on his door after midnight with a special delivery…
Author’s Notes/Warnings: I was watching a clip from Fjord & Jester’s wedding, and it got me kicking something stupid around, and I was bored on hold entirely too long today. Oops? 😂
“Big Day Tomorrow”
Luka was not expecting the knock on his door at…nearly one o’clock in the morning.
He was supposed to be asleep, for one. Tomorrow was a big day, after all, and he had to be over at the boat early to help finish setting everything up. It was going to be an amazing day, but it was also going to be a long one, and he wasn’t sure when he’d actually get another chance to sleep. He needed his rest. Anyone that would be knocking on his door would be in the same boat, actually, which brought him back to: who the hell was knocking at this time of night?
It had taken a long time to find the perfect bell. Nothing too high-pitched, but strong enough to carry through the little shop. Marinette glanced up at the low peal and cursed the placement of the new garment rack. She couldn't see the door from her sewing stool behind the counter anymore. Thankfully, she had a stellar employee in one of her best friends.
"Rose?"
"I got it, Marinette! Don't you worry. You make the customers happy with that needle, and I'll take care of sales."
It had been terrifying going into business with her best friend. There was no shortage of horror stories about ruined friendships because of business drama. But Rose had been absolutely confident that not only would their friendship be fine, but that Marinette's boutique would thrive. And while the fledgling business hadn't yet stood the test of time, working alongside Rose had been fun. Regret had no power at A Rose-Tinted Wardrobe by MDC.
"Welcome in! Let me know if you have any questions." Rose's cheerful voice floated across the shop while Marinette focused on finishing the last couple of inches of hand-sewing. Since they were new, she did want to greet their customers if at all possible. Once this seam was sorted, she would find their customer. After all, she wanted the shop to be memorable. Maybe one day she wouldn't feel the need to meet everyone who walked into her shop, but today was not that day.
Rose wound her way through the clothing stands, looking for whomever she had greeted. She caught sight of a dark head a couple of racks over, but they were quiet as they browsed. Marinette made ready-to-wear stuff that filled the boutique in addition to the bespoke and custom pieces that she worked on for the kinds of clients who didn't usually do their shopping in public.
Carefully straightening dresses and angling hats just so as she went, Rose made sure every corner of the shop shone. Finally, she caught sight of their customer. She was tall, with purple-accented black hair and the kind of gothic elegance that always made Rose's heart beat a little faster.
She froze, one hand still clinging to the hanger she'd adjusted. Chill. She had to be cool. Smooth like the cerulean silk skirt of that dress Mari had just finished.
The woman turned towards her, browsing the clothes with one free elbow to make up for her full hands. A coffee mug in one hand, a phone in the other, and a cute casket-shaped handbag dangled from her other elbow. All attempts at calm or cool dissipated like water on a hot skillet the moment Rose caught sight of her black ruffled blouse. Several buttons had escaped the confines of their holes, leaving a gap in the material to reveal a corset bra that left her breathless where she stood. She sucked in a deep breath to pull herself together. It worked. Barely.
Chill. Casual. "Hey, dude. You've got your shit unbuttoned." No, no no! Not that casual! Was this how Marinette felt all the time?!
The woman glanced down and frowned. Her voice was soft, like the whisper of fabric, "Could you help me out? My hands are full."
"Yeah, I got you!" Rose answered promptly, diving for the buttons. In two shakes, she had her done up and resituated. Once she was finished, there was considerably more heat in her cheeks than was warranted for the cool afternoon. Maybe she should have skipped readjusting her cleavage for her. Casual. She smiled, meeting the woman's stunning amber eyes once more. Stay cool. "There you are, brother." If not for her natural enthusiasm and boundless confidence, she would have cried at the words that kept escaping her in the face of true beauty.
The whispered "thanks" was all but lost as the girl slipped around the corner. Rose stared longingly after her until she heard Marinette clear her throat behind her. Rose turned, on the verge of gushing about their gorgeous customer, but the look in Marinette's eyes froze her.
"What the h— was that?"
Marinette never cursed during business hours. Not out loud, at least. It was kind of funny.
"Customer service?" Rose answered. The golden haze of longing was slowly dissipating under the reality of Marinette's shocked expression, and a new thought slid through Rose's mind. Maybe, just maybe, she should have offered to hold her drink or bag instead of buttoning her shirt…
Marinette's eyes darted between her and the counter where the gorgeous goth girl had paused. She heaved a sigh that let Rose know she wasn't done with her yet. "Oh, my gosh. Rose. I'm going to meet her at the counter… but… Ugh! I can't believe she hasn't fled yet."
Shaking with shock at what she'd just witnessed, Marinette made her way up to the counter where their customer had come to a stop near the jewelry display.
Her voice floated softly across the space, "You do custom stuff?"
Marinette plastered on a smile, biting back the urge to apologize for Rose's handsiness. What's done was done, and there was no way she would be able to get the right words out without swallowing her foot whole. "Yes! If you want a specific style in a specific color palette, I can make it happen. I've even incorporated personal effects or momentos into some pieces. That goes for the clothes too."
"Cool." She held out a plum-colored velvet patterned skirt and a black chiffon blouse. "I'll take these for now, but I'll definitely be back."
Nodding, Marinette rang her up, wrapping the clothes carefully before handing them over in one of her signature pink bags. She watched as she left, glancing nervously in Rose's direction on her way out. Probably wary of being assaulted. Again.
Rose all but appeared at her elbow the moment the low chiming of the bell ceased. "I've never seen anyone more composed or beautiful in my life. Did you see her eyes?" She sighed, long and breathy. "And her voice? O.m.g. Like the whisper of drifting leaves or falling satin, inviting me closer to hear her better," she swooned dramatically, draping herself over the counter.
Marinette's mouth fell open. "We're lucky she didn't accuse us of harassment! You can't grope customers, Rose!"
Rose turned wide blue eyes on her. "I didn't grope her! It's called customer service."
"She said she'd be back. Let's hope she doesn't bring the police."
Rose moaned, exasperated. "Don't be ridiculous. She asked for help with her buttons. She isn't going to come after us for helping her out."
Marinette huffed. "Rose! You touched more than her buttons!"
Rose caught her lip between her teeth in an attempt not to smile. She had done that, hadn't she? The bustier had shifted, and Rose had made sure the girls were situated properly once she was done-up. She was definitely enamored with more than her eyes. "—I"
Marinette was glaring at her. Rose swallowed. "Okay, maybe I did grope her a little—but I didn't mean to! I just wanted to be helpful. It's on me, okay. If she complains, I'll take full responsibility. The shop will be safe."
Black hair swished around her neck as Marinette shook her head. "No. We're a team. Just—don't grab anyone else's boobs on the job, okay?"
Rose made her promises, hugging Marinette before skipping off when the bell pealed its merry welcome to a group of lycée-aged girls.
-----
Juleka walked home in a daze, barely registering the world around her. She knew she'd bought something from the cute new shop, but couldn't for the life of her remember what was in the bag. All she could think about was the shopgirl. Golden hair, the brightest smile she'd ever seen, and quick, deft hands. And sitting just below the scooped neckline of her pink top was a nametag that read Rose. It was a perfect name for a girl like that. A girl made of sunshine with a face more welcoming than a garden full of flowers.
Music greeted her as she boarded the Liberty. That was life as a Couffaine. Music and a touch of madness. She wouldn't have it any other way. Except now she wondered what her life would be like if she brought Rose into the hold. The music shifted, mirroring her mood—a tangled, wistful sort of sound that came with Luka's concerned eyes. Rose had blue eyes too. It was a comforting color. A color that cared.
"What's up, Jules?"
"I found a new shop. Custom jewelry and clothes…" She remembered that much. Ma's birthday was coming up, and she and Luka had been looking for a place that could do something out of the box. "Someone grabbed my boobs, and I can't stop thinking about it."
"What?!" The music stopped, and Luka stood, a storm in his eyes.
Juleka shook her head. "Not like that—I mean. Kind of like that, but not."
Luka dragged a hand down his face. "What the hell, Jules?"
"My buttons came undone. The salesgirl told me, but my hands were full, so I asked for her help, and she just—" Juleka stopped, grinning as she relived the moment.
"She?" Luka prompted, a note of relief in his voice.
"I thought maybe she would hold my stuff." The adorable blonde had only held her stuff for a second. Juleka whimpered.
Luka groaned, dropping back into his seat. "I take it she buttoned your top?"
"Mmhmm. And then she made sure everything was sitting right. God, her hands."
Her brother grabbed his guitar again, plucking at the strings in a way that reminded her of buttons popping out of holes… "I think I've heard enough—unless you actually do want me to beat her up."
"Fuck, no." She hoped nothing bad happened to Rose, ever, but a dangerous idea settled over her… "I need you to be my wingman."
"What? No. C'mon." Luka sounded exasperated. Not that she could blame him. If the tables had been turned… ew. The idea of helping her brother hook up with someone made her shudder. But she had social anxiety, and Rose's eyes were still dancing above that perfect smile in her mind. Luka had always helped her and would always help her. She trusted that more than she trusted the sun to rise in the mornings. He had visited every flat and been there at each tenant interview when she wanted to move out, had been there when she signed her first lease, and had already taken time off to help her move in at the start of the next month, when her place would really be hers. Luka was her rock.
"Please? I need to see her again. I only know where she works. I don't know how to do this. I don't want to be creepy."
Luka laughed through a sigh, gesturing at her. Looking down, she couldn't help but understand. Creepy was kind of her whole thing. "Good luck with that."
"Okay, Jerk. I don't want to be an asshole, then."
Luka shook his head as the music changed under his fingertips—something that sounded like it belonged in a spy movie. "Alright. I'll go to look at the jewelry for Ma. And if your handsy salesgirl is there, I'll see what I can do to help you flirt."
"She wasn't handsy—not really. She was helpful."
Luka grunted. "Only because you liked it. This would be a very different story if you hadn't."
Juleka sighed. "I know, I know. But I did, so…"
"So we'll go back. But you know you can't push, right?"
"Of course!" Juleka stamped a foot, rolling her eyes when Luka raised a brow at her. "She's probably not interested. She called me brother, and dude." She'd been trying not to think about that part, but Luka was right; she needed to be prepared for rejection.
"Ouch," Luka winced, empathetic to his core.
"Yeah. Not exactly flirty."
Luka's head bobbed to the music for a second. Juleka waited, knowing it took him time to sort out his words. "Unless she was trying to make you more comfortable while she groped—helped you."
Juleka pulled her new ensemble from the bag. It was super cute and looked well-made. Those buttons would probably stay closed until she was good and ready for them to open. "Either way, it was the best customer service I've ever received."
-----
When a few days passed without angry police, lawyers, or mafia hitmen showing up at A Rose-Tinted Wardrobe, Marinette finally relaxed. It had been silly to let one little event stress her out so much. If Rose had been the kind of person to go around groping people, she might not have been so appalled—but the whole thing had been extremely out of character, and she hadn't known how to handle it or what kind of fallout to expect. But everything had been fine.
Rose smiled and sold their ready-made pieces. Marinette designed new ideas and put finishing touches on custom pieces while managing to meet and greet some of their new customers. It was her favorite day of the week—post-day. All of her recent high-end commissions were wrapped up and ready to ship to Clara Nightingale, Jagged Stone, and even a special piece for Françoise Bettencourt Meyers of L'Oréal fame. They closed early on Fridays so she could swing by La Poste before taking it easy at home with her sketchbook or letting Rose drag her out somewhere for drinks or music or, more often than not, both.
There was only an hour left of the workday when the little bell pealed out a cheerful welcome. Marinette smiled, ready to greet their guests, when she caught sight of the girl Rose had accosted. The blood drained from her face, leaving chilled flesh in its wake. The girl wasn't alone. A tall man with blue-tipped hair and noticeable tattoos followed her closely. Her heart sped up. He was here to avenge his friend. She and Rose were small. There would be blood. The carefully constructed garments that surrounded her would never recover. Marinette sucked in a breath. This was her shop, and Rose was her friend. She wouldn't go down without a fight. She straightened her spine, even as she swayed. There was something she needed to remember…
"Hey." A hand landed gently on her shoulder. "You need to bend your knees."
Right. She was always forgetting that. But first things first. "You can't have her. She's mine." Then the world went fuzzy and faded to black.
Juleka turned the corner and stopped dead. Luka was holding the other girl, the one who wasn't Rose, in an awkward sort of bridal carry with a panicked look on his face.
"What ha—"
"No! Don't hurt her!" Rose shrieked, running from the other side of the shop and vaulting over a display to skid to a stop in front of them. She turned pleading eyes on Juleka. "I'm sorry. It's my fault. Please don't blame Marinette. I shouldn't have grabbed your boobs even though it was the greatest experience of my life. I should have asked or held your drink or something. I didn't mean to be a cad! I promise I was only trying to help. Take me instead."
"Greatest experience…?" Juleka mumbled the words in shock, her face heating rapidly.
"Woah," Luka tried to comfort the panicked shopgirl, but was hampered by the unconscious woman in his arms. "We didn't come here to blame anyone for anything."
"We wanted to talk about a custom piece of jewelry for our mom," Juleka added, unsure of how to help.
Rose looked between them before glancing at Marinette as she stirred with a groan. "What happened?"
Their voices came out in stereo—even if the inflection was drastically different.
Luka shrugged. "She looked pale, stiff. So I told her to bend her knees. She didn't." He glanced down at Marinette. She was beautiful. Soft in his arms, but the vision of her standing defiantly to protect her coworker (friend, lover?) was etched in his mind.
There had been strength behind the pallor, and a song of righteous protection bled from her soul even as she struggled to get her bearings. He found himself inexplicably jealous of the kind of customer service Juleka had received earlier in the week.
"I can—you can put me down now." The girl in his arms met his eyes, and the pallor had been replaced by rosy cheeks and trepidation that showed in a trembling lip.
"Right." He set her down carefully, keeping a hand within a few inches of her just in case.
"Thank you for your assistance. Now, like I was saying before—Rose is my employee, and I take full responsibility for her actions."
"We don't —" Luka began.
"Dinner," Juleka stated, eyes flying to Rose. "If you're going to feel a girl up, you should buy her dinner first."
"Right," Luka added. "Juleka just came to give you her number. That, and we wanted to see the jewelry." His eyes flitted to Marinette. "My sister mentioned that she experienced the best customer service here."
"Oh." Marinette still seemed confused.
Rose beamed and bounced lightly on her toes. "I'd be happy to take you to dinner, but before you start sharing stories of our customer service, you should know that the level you received is reserved for you alone."
Juleka flushed at the insinuation, but she couldn't hold back a smile at the admission. "Good to know. I guess I can keep it in the family."
Rose frowned slightly. "In the—" she glanced at Luka and Marinette, her eyes widening in understanding. "Oh. Yes. Perfect. Thank you."
Juleka reached out towards Luka. "I'm going to have a look around before we ask Marinette about the jewelry." Her hand caught the edge of the leather vest he wore over an old band tee, snapping two of the buttons off and sending them skittering across the wood floors.
Rose snorted, covering it with a cough. "Oh, nooo."
"Rose?" Marinette looked at her coworker. She was looking better, but apparently fainting took a lot out of her.
Rose grinned. "Well, you know me. We've been besties forever. I can't sew worth a lick. And you made all of this." She gestured around the shop like a proud mama. "So, uh, I'll let you help Juleka's brother…
"Luka," Juleka answered quickly. Her brother had been willing to help her with her crush; the least she could do was admit he had a name.
"…Luka, with his buttons. Seeing as he caught you when you fainted and all. Customer service is important to us."
Marinette nodded slowly. "Right. Of course. I have sewing supplies behind the counter—"
Luka jumped in as she bent over to retrieve a button, snagging it off the ground before Marinette could go heels over head. "How about I get you to a chair and then find the buttons myself? Don't want you passing out on me again."
Marinette flushed pink as she looked up at him. "Sorry about that. I don't usually—"
"Nope. No worries. I'm glad I could help." Luka assured her in that low, comforting voice of his. She'd woken up to that low rumble with his arms around her, and it would be a lie to say she hadn't enjoyed it.
In seconds, she was back on her stool, and a minute later, Luka was there, two buttons in hand. "So, how do you want me? Your coworker helped Jules with her buttons while she was still in the shirt. Is that a store policy?"
"What?!" Marinette's head snapped up, the confusion burning away. Her eyes met the ocean-blue depths of the man who had been holding her only moments before. Waves of heat and cold washed over her. He was hot and sweet, and she was a mess, and did he really want her to sew his vest while he was wearing it?
"Sorry. That was out of line. I'm not very good with words." Luka said grimly.
"You're fine." Marinette blurted. She shook her head. "So fine. But considering the needle, maybe you could take it off for me."
"Sure thing," Luka said with a slow smile.
Rose looked at Juleka, putting Marinette out of mind for the moment. Her girl was slow, but deep. She'd get there, but in the meantime, she had her own customer to service. "Was there anything you wanted me to help you find?"
Juleka smiled at her. "I like purple. And the blouse I bought earlier this week fits perfectly."
Rose eyed her with a wink. "I bet it did. I know just the thing. Marinette made this incredible deep violet gothic-styled top with the coolest asymmetrical peplum."
Juleka inclined her head, ready to follow the blonde pixie just about anywhere. "Okay. Sounds like a good start."
Rose led the way through the shop, calling back as Juleka followed. "My favorite detail is the keyhole neckline. It looks like it was made for you."
Juleka watched Rose as she talked animatedly about the perfect blouse. She had a feeling that the clothes weren't the only things in the shop that were made for her. As subtly as she could, she undid one of her buttons. Sometimes, actions spoke louder than words.
I mean, I obviously get what Umi is TRYING to say here, but I can think of at least a dozen ways it could have been said that wouldn't have provoked such a snarky reaction on my end (Also, most of them begin with something other than a slap to the face. No ALL of them, but most.)
FIC: "That Time Luke Stone Picked the Wrong Traffic Cone" (MLB, Lukanette)
Characters/Pairings: Dingo King (OC), Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng; Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng; Dingo King (OC)/Brielle Girard (OC)
Rating: Teen & Up
Summary: It was supposed to be a quick stop. In and out and on their way. But when Marinette suggests they split up to make it even quicker…well, Luka’s pretty sure his wife doesn’t have a radioactive mohawk, but what are the chances someone else would have the same radioactive coat?
Author’s Notes/Warnings: There was an Insta, something something Dammit Quick-Rierse-All The Usual Parties 😝 It’s a Alternate Meeting for Dingo? Now with 100% more groping? 😂 (…I feel like I was picking at this for a month trying to figure it out, and then I didn’t even realize it was apparently done?)
“That Time Luke Stone Picked the Wrong Traffic Cone”
“Ok,” Marinette said as he turned the car off, turning to him. It was a little hard to focus on her with the glare from bright orange, damn near radioactive puffy coat she was wearing – something she normally would never choose for herself, partly because of what it was (she wasn’t a fan of puffy coats, generally speaking) and partly because she claimed the color clashed so bad with her skin, but it was a themed party they were on their way to, and Marinette was nothing if not a stickler for a theme.
Even if she had groaned and complained nearly every day since getting the invite to Rose’s 80s Ski Chalet birthday bash, it was still the theme their sister-in-law had picked out, and Marinette would be damned if she didn’t follow it to the puffed neon letter.
It was one of the things that made her and Rose such kindred spirits, which made married life for the Couffaine siblings simultaneously worlds better and worlds worse. It might have been nicer if their Pink People weren’t so good at conspiring together, but hey. They wouldn’t be Them then, and Luka was pretty happy with his Them.
“Luka,” she called, snapping her fingers in front of his face and pulling him out of his thoughts. “Focus!”
Characters/Pairings: Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng; Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Summary: It’s been four years since Luka left Paris to protect Marinette’s secret, and while he wasn’t expecting the warmest reception after everything…he hadn’t expected a frying pan to the head.
(Or: the one where Marinette mistakes Luka for a burglar, he ends up in the hospital, she ends up in jail, and Rose’s craft room is the real victim here.)
Author’s Notes/Warnings: Y’all. Y’all. This has been sitting in the Hoard for about a year (the earliest date I can find associated with it is last August), where it was pretty much just the opening scene and a first draft of the ‘assault’. And then I opened it yesterday, like “Hey isn’t that the frying pan one???”, and manic!wrote just about the whole thing in a day. Oops?
“When the Past Hits You”
Luka Couffaine was exhausted.
That…wasn’t entirely anything new.
He’d had a bad habit of…well. Not sleeping the best the past few years. Pushing himself too hard, staying up too late, giving a bit more of himself than was probably in his reserves to the hundreds – sometimes thousands – of people who showed up every night.
He was living the dream. At least that’s what his dad, manager, and dozens of reporters world over told him. What the friends and family back home who had spent too long supporting him from afar reminded him, every time he started to feel guilty about the time and space between.
Four years, a handful of world tours, and a solo record later…he wasn’t so sure.
It didn’t really feel like a dream anymore. He didn’t think he’d call it a nightmare, either, but…
I thought about just tagging this 'nuff said, but it's not.
I want to say something to all of the women under 50 on this site. Ready?
You do not have to be over 50 to start taking up space.
Can I make that blink? Is that a thing Tumblr can do? Because, seriously. The sooner you believe you are allowed to take up space, the better life will be.
FIC: "The Penguin Guy" (MLB; House Band; Lukanette)
Rating: General Audiences
Characters/Pairings: Dewey Couffaine, Luka Couffaine; Luka Couffaine & Dewey Couffaine, Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Summary: While out for some Daddy/Dewey bonding time, Luka and Dewey run into someone who works at the local zoo. Who works with penguins at the local zoo.
…Dewey might have a new best friend.
Author’s Notes/Warnings: There was a post on Tumblr about a guy who works at the Edinburgh zoo picking up penguins all day, and Dewey started screaming in my head. That’s all. 😂 (Aaaaand apparently I actually finished this, just had to edit, then completely forgot about it until I was looking for something else & went wtf is Penguin Guy???? That’s my Hoard, fam. I’ve forgotten half the shit that’s in there. Which surprises no one, given my track record of forgetting what I’ve actually posted…)
“The Penguin Guy”
Luka put the truck into park after pulling up to the curb. He glanced into the rearview and had to smile. In the back of the cab, Dewey was leaning over in his booster seat to look out the window. He was still chewing on the chocolate chip cookie Tom had ‘snuck’ into his hands as they were walking out the door.
“Ok, buddy,” he said, turning in his seat. He rested his elbow on the back of his chair and grinned at…well. Dewey wasn’t technically his youngest anymore, was he? He was still his youngest son, at least. Dewey turned his wide, blue eyes on him, the cookie still firmly lodged in his mouth. “You’ve been so good today. Think you’ve got one more stop in you?”
I...think I recently got tagged by @nerdypanda3126 and @goldenlaurelleaveswrites, but honestly I feel like I've been so disconnected from Tumblr/everything it could've been months back those notifications were from.
Hi, guys, it's been a minute...
Rules: In a new post, show the last three lines you wrote or the last thing you drew, and tag as many people as you feel like!
I've honestly been struggling to get anything out, so. A general update (that got Very Long sorry) & a few last lines below the cut?
Life has been...hard. Insane. A fucking Lot. Some of you know my mother is permanently disabled with a slew of health issues and that I'm her primary caregiver. Or I was. Some of you might remember last year, when I was uploading All These Signs, some interrupted updates because there were some Big Scary Health things happening?
A very long story short. Last June, my mother had a massive stroke caused by a faulty heart valve. We caught it fast - like it was maybe a handful of minutes from when symptoms started presenting to the ambulance getting here? And she seemed mostly ok. Considering how big the blockage was, she was doing great - but the valve needed replaced, and her body wasn't strong enough, and we had to wait to see how she recovered. She had a few more smaller strokes over the course of the summer, but overall seemed mostly ok?
Memory problems aren't supposed to be genetic, but a lot of the supposed causes are, and they run in my family. We lost my grandmother to Alzheimer's ten years back, and my uncle passed from a mix of Alzheimer's and dementia about a year and a half ago. Mum was having moments of confusion but was still mostly clear? I want to say around February/March it started getting worse, but at the time she also had a persistent UTI (which affects her clarity as well), so we weren't thinking much of it. They replaced the heart valve at the end of March. She came home the next day, and within five days she had fallen and was back in the hospital. This was all right before Easter.
They said the valve was fine, but she had so much going on that all stemmed from her not taking her medications - and I missed it, because up until this point she hadn't needed reminding/help with that. She broke her good foot in the fall, and initially she was sent to a rehab because she couldn't safely be at our home while her foot healed. And things just...kept happening, all stemming from moments of confusion, until she was finally sent to the hospital to be evaluated. They were trying to see if it was another infection, another stroke, or something else. If this is baseline now.
She was officially diagnosed with an aggressive form of dementia maybe two weeks back? Maybe three? I don't even know. Work has been crazy (when is it not, right?), and then all this on top of it. We're in the process of getting the paperwork in for long-term care, because there's no way she can come home and not have full-time care. She's fallen multiple times at the rehab, she's forgetting to put her oxygen on, she's not remembering to eat unless they make her, she won't take her meds unless they make her, she's started biting at her fingers off which...is a whole other what the actual fuck thing. And some times she's fine, just kinda foggy, and then there's times she doesn't even remember having a daughter. She keeps asking for Granma, and it's like in one breath she knows Granma's gone but then that shouldn't mean she can't call her.
And because of all the stuff that goes into the paperwork to get her the care she needs, I'm looking at moving this summer - and mum was a little bit of a hoarder, so I've been sorting through a lifetime of why the hell do we still have this while juggling her and the end of the school year and trying not to get sick myself between the weather/the plague monkeys (I love them all but everyone's been so sick this year) at work and just. (And that was a whole other panic, because I had no idea what was going to happen or if I could keep my dog or a million little stressors trying their best to break me.)
There have been no spoons. There are days I come home and just crash because there's nothing left. Some nights are the best sleep I've had in years because I'm not on tenterhooks waiting for something to happen with her - others I'm barely sleeping because the stress is jacking everything up. There are times I've had to turn my phone off completely because (before she kept losing her phone/forgot how it worked & we took it home) she would call every 10-20m throughout the night and I had work the next morning. My brother's already passed, and our dad passed years back. My aunts have been helping as much as they can, but mum pushed everyone away for so long because she was so scared of this happening - and now we're trying to dig out from her avoidance. And it just...what took years to happen in Granma and my uncle has taken weeks/months with mum. I'm handling it as best I can, but there's a lot of very complicated emotions that I don't have the time or spoons to process just now.
Someday things will settle, I'll let myself breathe again, and a therapist is going to make a fortune off me.
I like to say I'm a stress crafter. Creating has always been my outlet/therapy, but even that has been a struggle. I find myself trying to read - anything, not even fun stuff but the legal stuff I have to read - and I'm rereading the same sentence twenty times over because there's not enough left to process the words. I'm writing in 100-200 word bursts, little lines here and there because I've got nothing left. I'm playing with a lot of string, because stitches are easy and mindless and at least I can still make something pretty when everything else feels so dark.
...that was not a "long story short". I'm sorry. Some of y'all know what's been going on (some of y'all have been keeping me sane - you know who you are, and I love you guys so much 🖤🖤🖤). I feel like I kinda just went radio silent for the most part, though. A big part of it was the spoons. Part of it was not knowing how to process/say any of this - realistically we're looking at end of life, and I haven't been able to say that without breaking down until maybe a week ago. I still can't always.
But I'm still here. Mostly. I'm slowly finding my footing, bracing for the worst, and hoping things stabilize soon. I've always tried to find the silver linings and hold onto the sunshine, and it's been so hard holding on to that lately. I'm still trying.
But I promised y'all some fun and I have had some stuff kicking around?????
So here's some lines from the most recent docs I've been picking at. 😂
The alternate How They Met where Luka grabs Dingo's Ass instead of Marinette's...
He adjusted the ball cap he had shoved on his head before they had left the house (a poor attempt at a disguise) and walked up to her, swinging his hand back as he went. Once he was beside her, that hand connected firmly with her ass as a Smack! echoed in the aisle, somehow louder than the crappy techno they were playing overhead, and that…was about where things went pear-shaped.
He knew before she shouted – before she stood – that the person in the radioactive puffy coat was not, in fact, his wife.
He knew as soon as he squeezed, his hand closing around an ass that was entirely too boney to be Marinette’s. He wasn’t sure who jumped back first: the stranger or him, but the next thing Luka knew he was leaping back, hands raised in the air (and batteries by his feet) as the stranger jumped and shouted again as their head smacked into the shelf above them, rattling the entire unit and every damn candle in the aisle.
The one where Sheila King is (still) trying to make Lingo happen by convincing Tom Luka's a Bad Boy...
So by the time Tom had deposited the bags in the dumpster and turned around, all he had seen was Luka, the boy he knew was very interested in his baby girl (and who his baby girl was likewise very interested in), staring at him with wide eyes and holding a lit vape pen.
“…Luka?” he asked, his brow furrowing at he stared hard at the pen. “Since when do you smoke, son?”
And Luka, who was perfectly innocent but had too much of a History with Authority to know this would not end in his favor, did the only sensible thing a Boat Kid like him could do.
He threw the pen to the ground and ran.
The one where Luka is a bard trying to avoid becoming a myth not fall for Death...
He never fears her.
He has no reason to.
Until he does.
She’s only ever given him one reason to, in the end, and it’s the simplest reason of all. Natural for most, and yet as it claws up his throat he can’t help but think that it’s wrong, not her, never her.
She is beautiful in her fury, and yet…somehow, through all this time, he has forgotten.
Or perhaps he has never let himself see. Admit the truth that was so plain for everyone else.
For sensible people.
She is beautiful, but she is dangerous.
She is Death.
The unexpected Epilogue for Honeymoon in Paris that was never supposed to happen except Luka...
“And the reservation is under?” the receptionist asked, glancing up at them from her computer screen.
“Couffaine,” Luka answered automatically. His eyes moved to Marinette, another one of those silly smiles he hadn’t been able to shake all evening quirking his lips as he squeezed her hand. “Luka and Marinette Couffaine.”
“Luka,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “Not yet.”
“The paperwork’s been filed. It will be true before we get home,” he said. He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Mme. Couffaine.”
“Ten days, Luka,” she said. He pressed his smile to her knuckles.
“It’s a formality,” he said, making her snort.
“It’s a legality,” she insisted. His grin grew. “That’s what I said,” he teased
The one where Marinette's running a 100+ fever and doesn't realize she was stumbling around her flat naked...
“You…you saw my butt?”
…shit.
“Um…” he said, so very eloquently, like the genius of words he was.
“Luka!” she tried to shriek, but it came out more of a gasping wheeze. “You saw my butt!”
“It’s a very nice butt,” he said, as if that would make any of this better. “Very…nice.”
“Luka!!!!!”
“I wasn’t about to let you hit the floor, Marinette,” he groaned, reaching up to scrub at his face with his hands. He paused, remembering where those hands had been just a few short hours ago. He swallowed thickly as his eyes closed. “It…wasn’t just your butt. That I touched. In full disclosure.”
She had grown very quiet and very still. He looked up, lowering his hands to frown at her. She was standing beside him, her eyes wide, and he could practically see the blue screen in her mind.
“…Marinette?” he asked. Her mouth had dropped open. “Talk to me, Mari.”
“…t…t…touched????” she gasped, and his eyes widened as he realized his mistake.
FIC: "That Time Marinette Burnt the Bread" (MLB; Lukanette)
Characters/Pairings: Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Tom Dupain; Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Tom Dupain & Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Tom Dupain & Luka Couffaine
Rating: Teen & Up
Summary: It’s a well-established fact in the Couffaine home that Marinette can cook and Luka cannot – except for the one time she wasn…I mean of course Luka made the bread, Tom, who else could fuck it up that bad????
Author’s Notes/Warnings: There was an Insta, I sent it to Laurel, and Shit Happened. I just want to finish something, and it felt easy enough at the time? (…the irony is I’m coming back to this like a month later because what are spoons and no, no it wasn’t. 🤪)
“That Time Marinette Burnt the Bread”
Luka knew something was amiss the minute he stepped through the door.
And it wasn’t because the flat was dark and quiet beyond the door. It was a little past four o’clock in the morning, long before either he or his wife should be expected to be awake. After all, neither were exactly morning people – though he supposed they could still be up, as he was today, thanks to their unorthodox schedules. Nights after big shows or delayed flights or rowdy parties. So maybe it wasn’t super common, but it wasn’t exactly unheard of?
Except he knew for a fact Marinette had been running herself ragged this week with an upcoming show, a large order, new clients, and helping out at her parents’ bakery (thanks to the university student they had hired being busy with finals). He had also known he would be getting in stupidly late (or stupidly early) and had told her not to wait up for him: she needed her rest, and he would see her in the morning. Whenever morning turned out to be.
It was fine.
He didn’t plan on going anywhere for a few days, and part of why she had been working so hard was to make sure her schedule for the day he came home was clear. They had time.
So he wasn’t entirely surprised by the dark, seemingly empty flat. He fully expected Marinette to be tucked away in their bed, sleeping peacefully in a blanket cocoon.
I can tell which book this is from based on this excerpt, but I haven't read it
I started reading this, but didn’t finish it (or I am reading it currently)
I haven’t read this book, but I like this excerpt!
I’ve read this book before, and I don’t like it
I haven’t read this book and I don’t like this excerpt
Voting ended onMay 15
Please reblog the polls, but KEEP IT SPOILER-FREE to make people read the excerpt with an open mind 💖📚 Title and author will be revealed after the poll's conclusion.
Thank you @redribbonofficial for the submission! 😄
God sometimes I'm writing smut and I'll like, delete a sentence because I'm like, no, I can't write that. It's too indulgent. And then it's like. Girl, what the fuck are you even going to the candy store for if you're just going to buy raisins. Get real.
Characters/Pairings: Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng; Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Rating: General
Summary: Marinette’s been having a Day, and she’s pretty sure her luck can’t get much worse – until maybe it does (not?).
Author’s Notes/Warnings: 🙃
“I Think I Can Help”
Marinette stomped back to her car, grumbling the entire way. She had left the boot open, and that just made her grumble even more as she reached up to slam it shut with one hand. The other reached up to her forehead as she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and held it for a moment. She pinched the space between her eyebrows, rubbing little circles into it as she released the breath. Without a second glance, she spun on her heel and stomped back over to the driver’s side.
Wordlessly, she slid into the seat, locked her fingers around the steering wheel in a death grip, and screamed – which was fine, really, because the doors and windows were closed and she’d also thumped her head against the center of the wheel, sounding the horn loud and long enough to drown out the scream for any (potentially concerned) passersby.
…or should have, except the universe apparently frickin’ hated her today, because the next thing she knew someone was tapping on the window.
Summary: A pink swarm of tiny ladybugs swirled through the city for the umpteenth time. Death Note transformed, collapsing into a sobbing businessman. Just another bad day in Paris. Except, for the first time ever, the miraculous ladybugs had left something behind.
-----
"The notes aren't gone." Ladybug's heart pounded in her chest. It couldn't be true, could it?
"What do you mean?" Viperion's smile melted into concern.
"I cast the cure. The Akuma is cleansed, the city is fine, but..." Ladybug gestured around the city.
People were still staring at, many of them crying over, the terrifying black slips of paper in their hands.
Aghast, Viperion looked down at the crumpled piece of black paper in his hand. He hadn't forgotten it, but he had cast it from his mind as untrue, impossible, even. His heart sank at the sight of it still gripped between his hand and his lyre,"...But the notes aren't gone."
Ladybug stared at the piece of paper that had survived the ladybug "cure." Death Note had been a formidable Akuma, but the fight was nothing compared to what had been left behind.
Viperion was breathing hard, looking at her like his world had just fallen off its axis. She recognized it because the look in his eyes matched the feeling in her heart.
"Mari—"
"I have to go." She swung away, desperate to get out of sight before sobs overtook her.
She felt like a coward as she dropped through her skylight and into her room, transforming into herself as she hit the mattress. She should have stayed with Luka, should have talked to him about the notes, about what it meant for them. Instead, she studied her note.
The paper was thick and deep black, both the dramatic heading and the rest of the type stood out in stark white contrast. The font, whatever it was, felt ominous.
DEATH NOTE
The one you love most will meet their end while you hold their hand
It had been bad enough reading it as Ladybug. It was ten times worse as Marinette. As Ladybug, she worried about dropping someone… but she had shunted that idea aside as she scrambled to do her job; defeat the akuma, reset the city, save Paris. But she hadn't. The letter remained, and now she had to see it as Marinette. How was she supposed to go through life afraid to hold the hand of the people she loved most?
The idea of watching the person she loved most dying while she couldn't do anything to stop it was heart-shattering. But to avoid touching her parents? Her friends? What about romance? If she had kids, who would hold their hands while they crossed the street? How could she? How could she not?
She barely felt the mattress under her back as she stared at her ceiling. It felt like she was floating in a sea of oppressive cotton wool, disconnected from reality and trapped in a nightmare.
Her voice came out small, broken. "Can an Akuma really predict how we die, Tikki?"
Tikki appeared, her bright blue eyes staring down at her, wide and appalled. "I don't know, Marinette. Miraculous magic is pretty powerful, but it wasn't meant to be used like this."
-----
Luka's hands were lodged solidly in his pockets the next time Marinette saw him, which was weird, but good. It would have been easy to reach for him, to hold his hand while they meandered towards the Liberty together.
He'd started meeting her after school just a week ago. When she'd finally gotten up the nerve to tell him how she felt. Had finally been ready to listen when he told her that his feelings had only ever deepened.
It was silly, how right it had felt. After all her awkwardness, after her crush on Adrien, after pushing back against the idea that she couldn't have love and happiness and be Ladybug at the same time. But the moment Luka had told her that she was the only girl he'd ever loved, she knew, deep down and forever, that she wasn't going to love anyone else the way she loved Luka.
They were too young. They had so much time ahead of them. But she had seen a lot as Ladybug, and Marinette had learned to trust her intuition. Everything in her said Luka was it. He was her person. Her greatest love. And now, it was he who would die while she held his hand.
Unless she didn't. If she never held Luka's hand, then he wouldn't die on her arm.
(Reddit was filled with threads about the notes. Plans on how to avoid their terrible fates. Avoiding ladders, staying away from ice, and carefully orchestrated warnings for the people they loved most. All she had to do was give up the love of her life, and Luka would be effectively immortal.)
An itch to reach into Luka's pocket to hold his hand made her stuff her own hands into her pockets. Not today, death note.
She glanced up where he was walking by her side. He still looked as freaked out as she felt, but at her glance, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tugging her close. She had to tell him. "I can't ever hold your hand again," Marinette whispered, her throat tight.
He stopped, holding her in place, and turned to face her. Luka's hand slipped from her shoulder to slide down her arm, but she twitched away when his fingertips grazed her cuff.
"Luka, please don't. I can't... I don't want..." She sucked in a breath, trying to keep from crying. She didn't want to break up with him, but that had to be better than causing his death, right?
"My note…" her voice broke, and the splintered word hung in the air. The words death note had become a threat overnight, and she had no idea how to mitigate that threat.
"Mari, I want to hold your hand more than anything..."
She shook her head, swallowing hard. "More than you want to live?"
Luka pulled her into a hug. "I know it's crazy, but yeah. I kinda do. But not more than I want you to live."
Confusion fizzed through her veins. She looked up, her chin resting against his chest. "What?"
Luka stepped back and pulled a crumpled piece of black paper from his pocket. Reluctantly, he held it out to her. She took it gingerly, careful not to touch his fingertips.
DEATH NOTE
The one you love most will meet their end while you hold their hand
Luka's note was identical to hers.
She looked up, horrified. The look in Luka's eyes was pure torture.
Marinette shook her head, willing the world to go back to normal. Back to a time before death notes, before akumas, and superheroes. "Maybe you'll love someone more than you love me."
"Maybe I won't." The depth behind his words took her breath away.
Her voice caught in her throat, making her words come out in a raspy whisper. "Maybe we'll be old and gray before it happens."
"Maybe. That would be a good way to go." The smile on his face was wistful. Pained.
"Yeah." Marinette liked the idea of a long life with Luka at her side. But she wasn't quite eighteen yet, and death was already hovering over her.
"Might be worth taking a chance on," Luka said softly, maybe even longingly.
She shook her head. She'd seen too many things during her tenure as Ladybug. The last thing she wanted to do was take a chance on Luka's life. Especially considering she still wanted his life to be her future.
She straightened. Took a breath, and offered a hopeful smile. "We could just… not hold hands. I'm sure we could manage. We'll do it backwards. Kiss now, do everything else… and then when my hair is too gray, and I'm blind from sewing too much…"
Luka smiled softly. "And my hearing is shot…"
"…And when we're really, really old. When we're ready…"
Luka brushed her bangs to the side of her face, his hand lingering as it ran softly down to her jaw. "…Then we could hold hands."
Marinette leaned into his hand. Conscious of his warmth, of the way he cradled her, of the care he took to brush her pesky tears away. How could she love anyone more than the way she loved Luka?
And how could she stay with him, knowing she would be his end?
She pulled away, shaking her head. "We can't. I don't want to watch you die, Luka."
Luka reached for her, but didn't touch her. "Mari. Sweetheart. I don't want to think of the end either, not before we've had the beginning and the middle. But I'd rather die holding your hand to tomorrow, than live a life without you in it."
Luka captured her face with his hands and leaned down, pressing his lips to hers.
A sob escaped her chest as she returned the kiss, desperate for the future they had chosen only the week before. If only.
