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stray-tickles · 11 months ago

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Distraction

a.n. Despite being back on the Hephaestus after months lost in space, something is still bothering Eiffel. Not that it's something he can admit to.

Admitting upfront that I know this wouldn't actually work in canon, however I do not care and I wanted to write it so here we are!

Read on AO3

It was fine. Totally fine. It had been years now, so obviously he could handle this.

It was fine.

His hands weren’t shaking even a little bit.

Eiffel swallowed. “Hey, Hera? Are you there?��

He wasn’t sure if he imagined the fond exasperation in her reply. “Yes, Officer Eiffel. Can I help you with something?”

“Ah- no, no, just uh… how are you today?”

Okay, the suspicion was definitely not imagined. “I’m… fine. How are you?”

“I’m good! So good, everything’s great, do you wanna play a game?”

Eiffel knew his arms were trembling, and he knew Hera could see. What he didn’t know was what to do about it.

“Officer Eiffel, are you okay?”

“Yep! Yep, I’m great, just wanna hang out!”

Hera hummed. “Your heart rate and breathing are elevated. Can you just tell me what’s wrong?”

Eiffel groaned, clenching his shaking fists. “Nothing’s wrong Hera. Look, don’t worry, forget about it.”

“Eiffel-”

“I should go do some work or whatever.”

“Lemmie help, I’m sure there’s tons I can do.”

“Eiffel you don’t know how to do any of this.”

“How hard could it be?”

Minkowski rolled her eyes, her already thin patience fraying. “Look Eiffel, I have work to do, so if you don’t have anything useful to say…” She stood, heading towards the door.

Like lightning, a hand shot out and grabbed her arm. She looked back at him, torn between confusion and yelling, to see wide eyes laced with fear. “Please.” Eiffel seemed to force the words out against all impulses. “Don’t- don’t go.”

Minkowski stared. She didn’t like this one bit. “What’s going on?”

Eiffel opened his mouth, trying to find the words, knowing what he needed to say, and instead felt them churning around in his stomach. “I can’t- I-I need…” Crap, he could feel the wetness burning in his eyes. “Please.”

A hand covered his, warm and calloused, and when he looked up Minkowski was crouching in front of him. “Okay.” She said quietly. “I’m not going anywhere. Just tell me what’s going on. I’ll keep a close eye on Hilbert if you need medical attention, or… anything.”

Eiffel shook his head. “No, I- I need someone to- to…”

“Breathe. With me.”

He nodded, forcing the air into his lungs with shuddering breaths. Bees still filled his chest, but it helped a little.

“Good job.”

He huffed an unamused laugh, but released his grip on her arm.

Minkowski settled onto the floor next to him, leaning against the wall and making a point to keep her hand over his, which she noted was still trembling. “What’s going on, Eiffel?”

Eiffel groaned. “I don’t know if I can say it.” He admitted, hating it. He didn’t want to say it, he didn’t want it to be true, it wasn’t fair. “Hera?”

Hera’s voice crackled to life. “He’s been off all day.” She said, “On edge, elevated heart rate and shallow breathing. All within acceptable parameters, but barely.”

“Okay.” Minkowski nodded slowly. “And you can’t tell us what’s wrong.”

He shook his head.

“Okay.” She sighed through her nose. “Forget about that for now, you said you need something, can you tell us that?”

Eiffel nodded, weaving their fingers together and taking comfort in how she squeezed his hand. “I- uh, distraction.” He pushed it out before he could overthink it. “I need a distraction.”

“Oh.” Hera said. “That’s why you asked about games.”

“Yeah.”

Minkowski raised an eyebrow. “Promise you’re not hurt?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good.” She smiled and drew a deck of cards from her pocket. “Gin rummy?”

“Damn, Commander, you’d think if you were gonna pick the game, you’d at least be good at it.”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in.”

“Seriously, are you stacking the deck, so you lose?”

“… Yes?”

Eiffel snorted a laugh and Minkowski felt the ball of anxiety in her chest loosen. He was certainly acting more like himself after a few rounds of cards. She shuffled the deck and put it away. “How about twenty questions? I’ll go first.”

Contrary to popular belief, Eiffel wasn’t a total idiot. He could see where twenty questions was going. But he was surprised to find that the concept wasn’t as daunting as it had felt half an hour ago. Especially having a warm-up game. “Sure. Ready?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, is iiiit a person?”

“No.”

“Place?”

“No.”

“Object?”

“Bingo.”

Hera chimed in. “Can I join?”

“Yeah, the more the merrier!”

“Of course, Hera.”

“Thanks! Okay, is it bigger than a shuttle craft?”

“No.”

Eiffel hummed in thought. “Does it… make sound?”

Minkowski frowned. “N- maybe rephrase that? Anything can make sound if you throw it hard enough.”

“Oh yeah. Does it have a speaker?”

“No.”

“Does it contain carbon?”

“Yes.”

“Hera what does that even mean?!”

“Carbon is an element in all known living things, and the fourth most abundant element in the universe.”

Eiffel buried his face in his hands, half out of exasperation and half to hide his smile. “Great, thank you!”

Hera sounded annoyingly smug. “You’re welcome.”

Minkowski nudged him with her foot. “Come on, still thirteen left.”

Groaning, he looked up. “Uhh, is it on this station?”

“Yes.”

“Ooh, okay, now we’re getting somewhere! Is it in this room.”

Minkowski looked around briefly. “No.”

He smirked. “Is it the plant monster?”

“No, Eiffel, it’s not the plant monster.”

“I’m pretty sure the plant monster isn’t an object, Officer Eiffel.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Lieutenant, is it larger than an average human?”

“No.”

Eiffel frowned. “Smaller than a human, an object, on this station…”

“And made of carbon.”

“And made of carbon, thank you Hera.”

“You’re welcome.”

Minkowski bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling too much at those two. “Giving up?”

Eiffel put a hand on his chest in mock offense. “Commander. I would never. I’m just gathering intel.”

“Uh huh.”

“Is it a personal item?”

She thought for a moment. “Yes.”

“Do I have it?”

“I think so?”

Hera giggled. “I think I know what it is.”

“Really?” Eiffel looked up. “Well go on, share with the class!”

“No, I think it’ll be more… fun, if you figure it out.”

“Ugh, goddamnit. How many questions left.”

Minkowski smirked. “Seven, and I’m graciously not counting that as a question.”

“Oh, ha ha. Is it… culturally relevant.”

An amused grin flashed across her face before quickly being purged. “I believe so.”

Eiffel narrowed his eyes distrustfully. “Is it related to a movie or TV show?”

“No.”

“Is it a book.”

“Maaaybe.”

He crossed his arms and tried to scowl rather than smile. “Do you happen to have it memorised?”

“Just about.”

“Does it have two authors and include tips for survival in deep space that may or may not actually be useful?”

“Sure does.”

Eiffel snorted, “Jackass.”

“Is that a question?”

“No, Commander, I think it’s established fact.”

They were both smiling now. “Well, if you don’t have a guess…”

Eiffel rolled his eyes with a laugh. “Is it Pryce & Carter's Deep Space Survival Procedure and Protocol Manual, Third Edition?”

Minkowski winced. “Ooh, sorry Eiffel. Second edition.”

“Silly me.”

“Easy mistake to make.” She hesitated. “Your turn?”

Eiffel swallowed and glanced down at his non-trembling hands. “Yeah, I think I can… yeah.”

“Does it contain carbon?”

Both laughed. “Shut up Hera!”

She giggled. “I’m just trying to help, gee!”

Minkowski took a breath. “Okay. Person?”

“No.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Wow, really? Kepler’s a real. Something.”

Eiffel chuckled. “No, it’s… no.”

“Object?”

“Yes.”

“Smaller than an average human?”

“Y-yes.” Damn, this was going faster than he’d expected.

“Is it a pogo stick?”

Pause. “What?!”

Minkowski shrugged. “Thought that might get you out of your head. Did it work?”

“Heh. Yeah. Thanks.”

“And?”

He grinned. “No, it’s not a pogo stick.”

“That really narrows it down!”

Minkowski chuckled. “Shut up, Hera.”

“Is it a recent acquisition?”

“Yep.”

“Have I seen it?”

“Yeah, Commander.”

Hera hummed. “Is it organic?”

“I-I don’t think so?”

“Is it on the Hephaestus?”

He swallowed nervously. “No.”

Minkowski sighed. “Okay.” An object, recent addition, not huge, probably on the Urania, and it was really messing up her communications officer through its mere existence. “Oh.”

Eiffel winced. That didn’t sound like a very uncertain kind of oh.

“Oh?” Hera asked.

Minkowski cursed internally. “It’s Kepler’s scotch. Isn’t it.”

Eiffel looked down and nodded.

“Oh.”

“Sorry.”

There was steel in Minkowski’s voice. “No. Don’t you dare apologise.” She moved closer. “You- you did good, okay?”

He swallowed. “I appreciate it, Commander, but I don’t exactly feel good right now.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“It kind of is, though, right?”

She sighed, not sure what to say.

Hera chimed in just in time. “You tried to get help.” She said gently. “Twice, actually. That’s hard, and it was the right thing.”

Eiffel wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or break something. “It’s pathetic. I manage two hundred days in some barely held together shuttle but this-” He groaned, hands gripping his peach fuzz hair. “It’s been years since… I thought I was okay now.”

A solid hand gripped his shoulder. “You haven’t had the option in a long time. Makes sense that it’d get to you. Besides, we’re hardly in a low stress environment here.” She grimaced. It was awkward, but it felt necessary. “Do you want a hug?”

Pause. “Kinda, yeah.”

The met somewhere in the middle, leaving Minkowski a little alarmed at how Eiffel sagged in her arms like a sack of potatoes. “Thanks.” He muttered into her shoulder, gangly limbs wrapped weakly around her.

She squeezed him gently. “Any time. Seriously. We’ll figure this out.”

Figuring it out sort of worked. For a while. With Eiffel’s permission, Minkowski clued Lovelace in on their situation, and between the three of them, they could keep tabs on Eiffel easily enough. Shifts didn’t always overlap, but she made time to play cards or twenty questions with him at least every other day, and he had Hera to talk to in-between times. She’d spotted Lovelace smuggling a box out of the Urania, and if Eiffel seemed to have a large supply of chewing gum out of nowhere, well. It wasn’t any of her business.

Minkowski didn’t like seeing him like this, even if they were more or less handling it. This was hard enough on Eiffel, on all of them, without him having his worst coping mechanism dangling in front of his nose.

It drained him. She could see that every day. His jokes and sass were still there, but tinged with fatigue. When they met up for their games, he looked happy to see her, but also guilty. He hadn’t tried to apologise after the first time, but the feeling clearly didn’t fade.

Eiffel was being tortured by something he refused to allow himself to do. Minkowski was being tortured by her inability to do anything. She’d gotten her Communications Officer and secret best friend launched out into space for months that he barely survived, and now he was back in one piece and she couldn’t even take care of one measly glass bottle.

There had to be a way for her to just get rid of the thing. How hard could it be to just sneak into Kepler’s quarters and knock it over? It would look like an accident, and she could count on Eiffel or Lovelace for an alibi.

When had it gotten to the point that she was planning the assassination of a bottle of scotch?

It didn’t matter. That was too obvious, and she didn’t need Kepler interrogating Eiffel on what might have happened to his scotch. He clearly knew more about them than he let on.

Technically, she wasn’t commander of the Hephaestus anymore, so taking care of things like crew morale weren’t her job. Technically. But Eiffel still called her ‘Commander’, and Minkowski would be lying if she said that wasn’t meaningful to her. And even putting that aside, he was her friend. Someone who had made surviving on this tin can bearable, not that she’d ever tell him that.

Maybe she should…

She shook herself. Not the time. It was time for her to figure out how to take care of this, to make this place bearable for Eiffel.

No matter what it took.

“What does that object look like to you, Officer Eiffel?”

Eiffel squinted out the window, emotions churning in his stomach that he couldn’t quite figure out. Trepidation. Confusion. Relief. Suspicion. “Uh... like... like a bottle?” He resisted the urge to turn his head and look at Minkowski as Kepler ranted at him.

“What do you think, Lieutenant Minkowski?”

“It looks like…” She could feel the tension creeping up her spine. It wasn’t exactly a decision she had made, was the thing. The button was just right there, and Eiffel was right there and she knew that if she just happened to bump him as she walked past he’d stumble, and… “No, it is your bottle of Scotch, sir.”

Kepler hesitated, observing her for a long moment. It was a good thing she was a better liar than Eiffel, at least. “WRONG! CANCELLED!”

She didn’t let herself relax yet. This wasn’t good, this wasn’t how she’d wanted to do this, but… Honestly, she’d been feeling desperate. And an opportunity presented itself.

Eiffel was frankly surprised at how non-stressed out he felt, floating through the vacuum of space trying to retrieve a scotch bottle.

He might have actually had this dream before?

It did help that the bottle was empty in real life. It helped a lot. More than he’d realised it could.

He also had a lot of time to think, as he floated towards it. To reflect on the firmness with which Minkowski had bumped into him, conveniently into the button that would vent all of Kepler’s belongings into space. On whether or not that was something she would actually do, and concluding that yeah, it probably was.

Whether it was something she would do for him though…

She’d done it, so yeah, she had to have done it for him, there wasn’t really any other option there. Despite the temperature, that thought made Eiffel feel kind of warm inside. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever had a friend who would do something like that for him, especially knowing Kepler’s wrath.

“Got it!”

“Great.” Jacobi said tiredly. “Now get your ass back to the station, I need to be doing literally anything but this.”

“Copy that.” Eiffel could feel himself smiling. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop right now.

The second the airlock swished closed, Jacobi threw up his hands. “Great! All done, go team. I’ll trust you to get that back to Colonel Kepler?”

Eiffel hadn’t removed his helmet yet, and felt his grin widen. “Of course, Jacobi.”

“Fantastic.” He growled, turning and stomping out.

He laughed under his breath, putting the bottle down gently and removing his helmet.

“You need help with that?”

Looking up, he saw that Minkowski had joined him, an evasive sort of look on her face. Eiffel grinned still wider.

She crossed her arms and looked away, ears turning red. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He teased, removing the rest of his space suit.

“Good.”

“Mm-hm.” He shook himself off, seized the bottle, and followed Minkowski out, trying his best to school his features and honestly probably failing.

“You good to take this to the Colonel, Captain?” Eiffel asked, offering it to Lovelace. “Or should we deliver it personally?”

He could see her put the pieces together when she saw it in his hand, eyes darting between the bottle, him, and an obviously embarrassed Minkowski. “I think he’s had enough of you two for one day, don’t you?” She winked.

“Couldn’t agree more.” He beamed.

Lovelace shook her head fondly, “Alright, dismissed!” She said, taking the bottle and heading over to the Urania.

Eiffel waited for a moment. “Well.” He said, “In the spirit of shutting up…”

Minkowski yelped, finding herself seized in a tight and unrelenting hug. “Eiffel!”

“For the record,” He said loudly, “I am doing this because we are friends and for no other reason!”

She tried not to laugh, she really did, but he was being ridiculous and Eiffel and her ability to resist that had been worn down a long time ago. “Let me go you idiot!”

He laughed too, lifting her off her feet and getting a few half-hearted slaps for his trouble. “This is a very normal hug about nothing in particular, got it?”

“Got it.” Hera said, sounding highly amused.

Minkowski stopped trying to fight him off, sagging in his arms and shaking with laughter. “Dumbass.”

Eiffel laughed and squeezed her tightly. “Thank you.” He muttered in her ear, finally letting her go.

She rolled her eyes fondly. “Don’t mention it. Seriously.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Good. Up for a game of cards before bed?”

“Huh?” He cocked his head, confused. “Well, the- it’s gone now, so I don’t really need the distraction anymore…”

Minkowski raised her eyebrows. “And?”

Oh. He smiled. “That sounds great.”

#wolf 359 #w359 #w359 fic #doug eiffel #Renee Minkowski #hera wolf 359 #wolf 359 fic #w359 fluff

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all-seeing-ifer · 2 years ago

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Audio Drama Recs for Buffyverse Fans

Hey there, dear listeners! Are you a Buffy fan who’s been listening to Slayers and it’s got you interested in learning more about this whole audio drama malarkey? Are you a Buffy fan who’s not been listening to Slayers but are always interested in recommendations for new media to check out? Are you maybe even a Buffy fan who’s already listened to some audio dramas but want some ideas for others to check out? If the answer to any of these questions is yes, then this is the list for you!

The world of audio drama is a weird and wonderful place where niche independent art can flourish. If you look close enough, there’s something there for everyone! It’s my hope that the release of Slayers can help bring this wonderful medium to more people’s attention, so I’ve compiled a list of a bunch of different audio dramas that I think will appeal to Buffy fans, whether that’s because they have a similar genre, similar tone, similar characters, or something else entirely.

No matter what it is you like about Buffy, I can almost guarantee there’s an audio drama out there where you can also find those same qualities. And the best part? All of the following audio dramas are absolutely free. An important part of the culture that’s emerged around indie audio dramas is that these shows are pretty much always free to listen to - funded instead by ads and patreon support. So you can just hop on to spotify, apple podcasts, pocket casts, or your other platform of choice, and get some beautiful narratives written by (and I do sincerely believe this) some of the most talented and visionary creative voices of the past couple decades beamed directly into your ears for the low low price of nothing at all. You literally have nothing to lose except time!

So without further ado, on to the recommendations:

Wolf 359

Listen if you like: Episodic/monster-of-the-week storytelling with an overarching plot, a tone that mixes comedy and drama, pastiches of popular genres (with heart), anti-authoritarian themes, stories about bands of deeply flawed misfits with interpersonal issues

Plot summary: Life's not easy for Doug Eiffel, the communications officer for the U.S.S. Hephaestus Research Station, currently on Day 448 of its orbit around red dwarf star Wolf 359. The Hephaestus is an odd place, and life in extremely isolated, zero gravity conditions has a way of doing funny things to people's minds. Even the simplest of tasks can turn into a gargantuan struggle, and the most ordinary-seeming things have a way of turning into anything but that.

Status: Finished

Episode count: 61 + minisodes and specials

Average episode length: 20-40 minutes

Why you should listen: I’m gonna say something that may be mildly controversial and say that Wolf 359 comes closer to capturing the Buffyverse’s tone and spirit than just about any other piece of media. A child of that mostly unfortunate period of time when every nerd creator on the planet wanted to imitate Joss Whedon’s style and it really does show (not least in the multiple direct references to Buffy the show makes). But while basically every other product of this writing style (including Whedon’s own later work) fell flat on its face into insincerity, Wolf, in a truly cosmically unlikely moment of lightning actually striking twice, just fucking nails it. It’s at once an ironic pastiche of science fiction serials from the golden age of radio while also being a serious and dramatic science fiction serial in its own right, and strikes the perfect balance between the two. While it starts out as more of a workplace comedy set in space, as the show goes on and the characters learn more about the company that sent them on their mission, the tone becomes increasingly serious and dramatic, without ever feeling like too much tonal whiplash. When it’s funny, it’s really funny, and when it’s serious and emotional, it hits depths of devastation few other shows can. While it may be science fiction and not fantasy, it shares the Buffyverse’s anti-authoritarian themes, as well as those shows’ large casts of flawed characters whose problems come just as much from interpersonal drama as from the speculative fiction elements of the story. If you ask me, it’s one of the greatest stories the 2010s ever gave us. But don’t just take my word for it, go check it out for yourself! Go meet Doug Eiffel, Renee Minkowski, Dr Alexander Hilbert, Hera, and a bunch more characters I can’t talk about without getting into spoilers. You can thank me later.

Ars Paradoxica

Listen if you like: A tone that mixes comedy and drama, anti-authoritarian themes, female-led shows, stories about bands of deeply flawed misfits with interpersonal issues

Plot summary: When an experiment in a time much like our own goes horribly awry, Dr. Sally Grissom finds herself stranded in the past and entrenched in the activities of a clandestine branch of the US government. Grissom and her team quickly learn that there's no safety net when toying with the fundamental logic of the universe.

Status: Finished

Episode count: 36 + specials

Average episode length: 20-40 minutes

Why you should listen: Ok, let’s say Wolf 359 appeals to you, but you’d prefer your semi-ironic semi-serious speculative fiction dramedy show with anti-authoritarian themes to have a female lead. I mean I’d still recommend listening to Wolf because while Eiffel may be the protagonist you still get to meet Renee Minkowski and Hera and [OTHER CHARACTERS REDACTED], but you could also try out Ars Paradoxica! Another child of the Whedon-influenced era that produced Wolf 359 with a similarly Whedon-influenced tone, I think Ars is a lot messier, tone-wise, but it’s worth working through that. While it starts off quite goofy and irreverent, as the show goes on it really matures and grows into itself and becomes something very special. It becomes the rare time travel story that actually engages in a meaningful way with the political dimension of the time period its characters’ travel to. It’s about the paranoia of the final days of WWII and beginning of the Cold War, it’s about the bigotries that shaped mid-20th-century society, it’s about war and scientific ethics and the desire for progress and what we’re willing to sacrifice for that progress. But despite its often dark themes, it’s also not as heavy as I’m making it sound, with all of its lofty ideas and high concept science fiction being anchored by a cast of highly flawed yet endearing characters, including the inimitable Dr Sally Grissom herself. Compared to other 2010s audio dramas, it’s fallen into obscurity into recent years, and I think it’s about time we bring it back into the light!

The Silt Verses

Listen if you like: Horror/fantasy, episodic/monster of the week storytelling with an overarching plot, anti-authoritarian themes, female-led shows

Plot summary: Carpenter and Faulkner, two worshippers of an outlawed god, travel up the length of their deity’s great black river, searching for holy revelations. As their pilgrimage lengthens and the river’s mysteries deepen, the two acolytes find themselves under threat from a police manhunt, but also come into conflict with the weirder gods that have flourished in these forgotten rural territories.

Status: Ongoing (on its final season)

Episode count: 33+

Average episode length: 40-60 minutes

Why you should listen: It’s my favourite audio drama, hands down. More than that, it’s one of my favourite pieces of art, ever. Do you have even a passing interest in horror as a genre? If you’re a Buffyverse fan, then I assume the answer is ‘yes’. In which case, you should listen to TSV. Of all the horror podcasts I’ve listened to, I think TSV is far and away the most genuinely terrifying (I’d definitely recommend checking out the content warnings before listening) as well as having the most unique, well-thought-out, and generally interesting horror concepts and worldbuilding. It also plays with classic horror tropes in a way that feels vaguely reminiscent of BtVS at times, but its tone and atmosphere and writing style is all entirely its own. Despite this far darker tone and approach to horror, it also shares many of the Buffyverse’s themes. It’s a story about broken systems: living in them, dying in them, striking back against them, trying to fix them, burning them to the ground, all explored through a horror/fantasy lens. If you like how the Buffyverse explores its anti-authoritarian themes, you will probably also enjoy TSV’s approach. If you love the various complex fucked up little guys that make up the casts of the Buffyverse shows, then you’ll probably also love the various complex fucked up little guys that make up the cast of TSV, especially Sister Carpenter, the female lead of the show as well as one of the few characters in existence whose greatness rivals Buffy herself in my mind. And if you love the Buffyverse’s outlandish and often formally-inventive monster-of-the-week style episodes, then TSV’s own experimentations and propensity for bizarre fantasy concepts will likely also appeal to you. Really there’s very little else I can say without you experiencing the show for yourself. Do you like good things? Do you like things that are good? Go listen to TSV. Again, you can thank me later.

The Magnus Archives

Listen if you like: Horror/fantasy, episodic/monster of the week storytelling with an overarching plot, anti-authoritarian themes, stories about bands of deeply flawed misfits with interpersonal issues, fighting the apocalypse

Plot summary: A weekly horror fiction podcast examining what lurks in the archives of the Magnus Institute, an organisation dedicated to researching the esoteric and the weird. Join Jonathan Sims as he explores the archive, but be warned, as he looks into its depths something starts to look back…

Status: Finished

Episode count: 200

Average episode length: 30 minutes

Why you should listen: One of the more well-known audio drama podcasts, and definitely the most well-known of the recent audio dramas! A lot darker, more depressing, and heavier on the horror than the Buffyverse shows, but there’s still a lot that Buffyverse fans will enjoy, from the anti-authoritarian themes to the multiple apocalypses the characters face. While TMA starts off as an anthology series, with each episode being a self-contained horror story, as the show goes on recurring characters start to appear and an overarching storyline begins to emerge. The later seasons of the show really display a similar ethos to the Buffyverse shows when it comes to taking their characters to very dark places, and the way that the show plays with horror tropes will likely also appeal to Buffy fans! Prepare yourself for some truly creepy storytelling and truly heartbreaking emotional moments and give it a listen.

Janus Descending

Listen if you like: Horror, female-led shows

Status: Finished (sequel series ongoing)

Episode count: 13

Average episode length: 15-20 minutes

Plot summary: This limited series, science fiction/horror audio drama podcast follows the arrival of two xenoarcheologists on a small world orbiting a binary star. But what starts off as an expedition to survey the planet and the remains of a lost alien civilization, turns into a monstrous game of cat and mouse, as the two scientists are left to face the creatures that killed the planet in the first place.

Why you should listen: While it’s probably the least similar to the Buffyverse shows of any of my recommendations, I think Janus is still worth looking into simply because it’s a really great “starter podcast” for those who’ve never got into audio dramas before. It’s a limited series of just 13 episodes, each episode is only around 15-20 minutes long, and it uses the audio format in a really unique and interesting way. While it does now have a sequel series called Descendants, the original show works very well as a standalone narrative. The horror and tension and tragedy of the story is really well done, and despite how relatively short it is you still get to feel very close to the two protagonists. Another really underappreciated show that deserves more love.

Old Gods of Appalachia

Listen if you like: Horror/fantasy, female-led shows, anti-authoritarian themes

Plot summary: A horror-anthology podcast set in the shadows of an Alternate Appalachia, a place where digging too deep into the mines was just the first mistake.

Status: Ongoing

Episode count: 54+ (not including specials)

Average episode length: 30-40 minutes

Why you should listen: Another dark and gorgeously atmospheric horror podcast (you may be starting to sense a theme here), this one based around an alternate history version of Appalachia where eldritch gods and monsters inhabit the mountains and hills. Much like TMA, Old Gods is primarily an anthology series, consisting of a wide variety of different horror stories set in the same world. These stories range from one-off episodes to season-long arcs, and cover a broad spectrum of horror sub-genres. While I do find it a little hard at times to follow all the different connections between the different stories and arcs, I think it’s still absolutely worth listening to for its tone, storytelling, social commentary (plenty of “fuck capitalism” stories here), and well-written and complex female characters. Definitely a must-listen for all the horror/fantasy fans out there (and I know for a fact that’s a lot of you).

Hi Nay

Listen if you like: Horror/fantasy, female-led shows, stories about bands of deeply flawed misfits with interpersonal issues, episodic/monster of the week storytelling with an overarching plot

Status: Ongoing

Episode count: 32+

Average episode length: 30-60 minutes (not including specials and minisodes)

Plot summary: A supernatural horror fictional podcast about Filipina immigrant Mari Datuin, whose babaylan (shaman) family background accidentally gets her involved in stopping dangerous supernatural events in Toronto.

Why you should listen: A very fun urban fantasy monster-of-the-week style show that pulls from both classic horror tropes and Filipino folklore. While I haven’t listened to much of this one yet, it’s a really engaging and often emotional listen with a very fun framing device that uses the audio medium in a clever way!

Of course, this is only a small fraction of the wealth of audio drama podcasts out there. I'm only one guy and I can't listen to all of them! If any of you have any recommendations for other audio dramas you think Buffy fans will enjoy, feel free to add them on! And if you're interested and have any questions feel free to send me a message - I always love talkin' audio dramas!

#buffyverse #slayers a buffyverse story #buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #podcasts #ifer rambles #ok WHEW i'm done with this thing #this is it this is my contribution to events #i perhaps get a bit sappy in this post but i do genuinely hope that slayers is able to get ppl more interested in this medium #even if it's just a few people!! that would still be such a win!!!#i love audio drama very much and i want other people to love it too #long post

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adamrenfro · 5 months ago

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The Night Desk - 1.18.25

The Night Desk is a periodic late-night dive into ideas that linger long after the day ends.

Wisdom After Dark

"In the desert, there is no sign that says, 'Thou shalt not eat stones." —Sufi proverb, attributed to various mystic teachers

Here's why this hits different: Unlike the rigid "thou shalt nots" of organized religion, this proverb suggests that some truths are so blindingly obvious they don't need rules. The desert, harsh and unforgiving, teaches its own lessons without signposts. It's about natural consequences versus artificial restrictions —something both Sufis and modern philosophers have grappled with. In our world of endless disclaimers and warning labels, there's something refreshingly brutal about this ancient wisdom. You don't need a manual to know eating stones is a bad idea, just like you don't need an influencer to tell you what's authentic in your own life.

Digital Tremors

ChatGPT with vision capabilities is, well, pretty wild. Imagine snapping a photo of Tokyo’s bustling streets, feeding it into the AI, and getting not only vivid descriptions but also cultural insights, story angles, and even draft paragraphs. Stuck on a character description? Show it an image, and let it spark fresh ideas. And it scores an A+ for writing descriptive alt text for images.

The Deep Current

Deep Currents catches what's moving beneath the surface noise, and tonight is about "slow travel." Slow travel isn’t just having a moment; it’s slamming the brakes on the screeching, Instagram-fueled, bucket-list culture that’s been smothering the soul of what travel used to be. It’s fewer people treating a country like a slot machine—one spin, one photo, next stop—and more staying put, lingering. You’re not hopping between cathedrals or Eiffel Towers; you’re becoming a familiar face at a corner café, where the barista starts to remember your order, and the locals stop side-eyeing you like a tourist.

This isn’t some profound epiphany—it’s a revolt. A middle finger to influencers and their staged wanderlust, and a quiet nod to what travel once meant: an exchange, a shared space, a life understood—not just another stamp in your overstuffed passport.

Who do we have to thank for this rebellion? Remote workers. They discovered they could set up shop anywhere with Wi-Fi and that blitzing through Europe in a caffeinated panic wasn’t just absurd—it was moronic. Exhausting. A waste. Fifteen cities in two weeks? Did all the McDonald's start to seem the same? The real point of travel is out there, and slow travelers are finally starting to find it.

Screen Time Worth Your Time

How Wolves Change Rivers video from Sustainable Human is a masterclass in storytelling that shows how reintroducing wolves to Yellowstone created a "trophic cascade" that literally changed the course of rivers. It's the kind of perspective shift that makes you realize everything is connected, and it's told in a way that hits you right in the gut.

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Through the Lens

Saul Leiter's photographs of New York City in the rain capture the city through reflections and steam, turning mundane streets into abstract paintings. It's like seeing the city through a fever dream – exactly the kind of visual that makes you stop scrolling and actually feel something.

Writer's Underground

Stop trying to write perfectly formed sentences in your first draft. Instead, write like you're having a stroke. Let your sentences fragment, leave thoughts unfinished, use arrows and dashes, create your own shorthand. Why? Because perfect grammar is the enemy of raw truth. When you're too focused on getting the semicolons right, you're not focused on getting the soul right. This isn't about being sloppy – it's about capturing the lightning of your thoughts before your internal editor shows up with their red pen and good intentions. You can always clean it up later, but you can't inject life into sterile prose. It's like cooking – you need the heat of creative chaos before you can plate it beautifully.

Night Track

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Leave with this night track, and until next time, keep your lamp burning and your mind wandering. The best insights often come after dark.

#The Night Desk #Youtube #Spotify

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yashvitours · 1 year ago

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Tokyo: A City Where Ancient Meets Modern

A population so…enviable, Tokyo is a visual combination of past and present. While the shrines are ascendant over the rain clouds, all is quiet as a whisper inside them. Colorful night lights further heighten the stillness which is there in places carpeted by grass. Truly, the experience of being in Tokyo is one of those you cannot easily forget; for it offers an opportunity to see the deep Japan where old values harmoniously coexist with new technologies.Checkout the best package offered by the best travel agency in ahmedabad.

A Walk Through Time: Unveiling Tokyo’s Rich History

Senso-ji Temple Enjoy the spiritual core of Tokyo at Senso-ji shrine where you will feel as if time stops while walking along NakamiseDori packed with vibrant stalls offering traditional souvenirs and delicious treats. As soon as you pass through the last red lightning bolted gate known as Kaminarimon there you stand inside the temple grounds which apparently are so calm amidst chaos within this metropolis.

The Imperial Palace Return to an era when Japan’s Emperor lived at the Imperial Palace. Although the interior spaces remain mostly restricted, visitors can tour part of the magnificent compound through East Garden. In Tokyo, there is peace and calm as a result of rich vegetation and many ancient-style houses.

Meiji Shrine Dedicated to Shinto Emperor Meiji and his wife Empress Shoken in mind, Meiji Shrine is an impressive example of Shinto architecture. This peaceful atmosphere coupled with its extensive forested surroundings create a tranquil place to appreciate nature.

Glitz and Glamour: Unveiling Tokyo’s Modern Marvels

Shibuya Crossing The moment you are between a multitude of people going in all directions at the same time, you will realize how huge Tokyo can be. Shibuya Crossing is the busiest crossing in the world and is the one where you can perceive powerful moments.

Tokyo Tower You must take a flight across the city which offers beautiful panoramas from its top over the Tokyo Tower. This tower copied Eiffel Tower with a new look at the bright cityscape in its own way.

Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden Escape the noise pollution coming from the town center while getting tranquility within a neat Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden which used to serve as the empress’s garden; there exists different types of gardens including French and English ones within it together with traditional Japanese gardens hence breaking away from the noisy environment in the town center, while easily accessing such gardens.

Unveiling Tokyo’s Quirky Side

Apart from the historical landmarks and modern wonders, there’s a quirky side of Tokyo that is yet to be explored.

Harajuku: Enter the center of Tokyo’s fashion area located in Harajuku. Walk along Takeshita Street where there are shocking dresses, kawaii (meaning cute in Japanese) culture and fashionable stores.

Akihabara: Akihabara which is also known as Electric Town is a place where you should become one with yourself who is a geek. There are so many stores selling electronics there, as well as anime shops and manga cafes which will give you an insight into the world of Japanese pop culture.

Crafting Your Tokyo Adventure From history buffs and foodies to pop culture enthusiasts, there’s something waiting to be discovered around every corner. Looking for a personalized adventure? We offer customized tours and travel packages designed for your interests and pace, no matter your starting point. Dream of venturing further? We can help you find the perfect international holiday packages and domestic tour packages from gandhinagar. Flight booking in Gandhinagar is also a breeze with us! Let us craft your dream adventure, whether you are looking for tours & travels Gandhinagar, Contact Yashvi Tours And Travels Today !

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lilveeblog · 2 years ago

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mama’s present

a cute little soft drabble where emily is in paris and jj misses her

JJ got home and unlocked the door herself. the house which was once full of happiness was now dark and dismal. the light bulb in the hallway broke a few weeks ago and no one had fixed it.

the storm clouds outside rolled in and the lightning reflected off the shards of glass scattering the floor - remains of old picture frames which used to gleam on the walls.

jj slid up the stairs, refusing to face the state of her kitchen and then headed into her bedroom she once shared with emily. her nursery was ruined - holes in the wall, clothes all over the place, broken toys and even a broken bed. it wasn’t her space anymore.

she had no space anymore. no where to go. no one to be herself with.

the parcel sat on the middle of the bed and at first, jj was shocked but as she approached the pink wrapping paper - she knew. she knew it was okay. her heart plummeted to the ground as her knees followed suit, dropping her weight to the side of the bed.

she reached for the carefully wrapped present and ran her fingers over the glittery unicorns and she let a single tear fall from her cheek. it splashed across the paper and it soaked it up but jj wished it was her mama’s jumper.

she slowly ripped the paper, revealing a shoe box. on top sat a card and she knew it was emily’s handwriting.

once all the paper was off, she set the heavy box in front of her and slowly began to open the card. it was a picture of the two of them - jj sat across from emily as she painted her nails. jj was in her princess costume (which had now been ripped to pieces) and emily was smiling widely at jj, leaning down to kiss her head. it was one of them moments where all was calm, serene and beautiful with jj’s regression.

it wasn’t always princesses and rainbows, but when it was- jj felt so loved by emily. garcia has taken the picture and it made jj’s body rack with sobs just as she opened the card.

hey my sweet girl,

wipe them tears for me. i miss you. i miss you so, so much i can’t even imagine how you feel.

i will be back with you soon, and we can play dress up again, all you want. we can eat ice-cream at 1am in a fort in the living room even though we have work at 8. we can be together and i can hold you again.

i hope you’re being good. i know it must be hard keeping the secrets but i am so proud of you. so unbelievably proud of you for letting me go.

i’ve packed some things in the box for you, just some things i see that remind me of you.

it won’t be long now darling, we’ll be back together and you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to whilst i’ve been away.

are you still counting for the game? i hope you’re not cheating, cheeky girl.

i love you more than you love me ,

your mama xx

jj traced the words at the bottom with her fingertips and sniffled before setting the card down.

she opened the box and smiled. on top was a babies blanket, a small soft pink one. she rubbed it across her face and whimpered, remembering emily’s touch.

next, she saw some pacis - pink ones and they had little Eiffel towers on them. they were her size too which made jj melt. there was a sweet dummy too, a pink one! jj’s favourite colours.

she pulled out some rolled up pyjamas and smiled. they had teddy bears holding french flags, they were soft, like real teddy bears. she slipped it over her head before gasping at the thing at the bottom of the box. emily’s black hoodie.

instantly, it was wrapped around her and jj soaked in the smell. she missed emily’s warmth and love. she missed her mama so much. she sobbed into her mama’s jumper, wishing and hoping that she’ll be back soon. she wanted nothing more than to curl up in her mamas arms and feel loved by the one person that truly, truly cared.

#little!jj #cg!emily #criminal minds #criminal minds agere #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #jj x emily #jj #jj criminal minds #little space

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rosileeduckie · 4 years ago

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IKEA Angel

The real reason why Dean can’t get an x-ray done.

Dean and Cas take a little break for some silliness. Next piece for Tickletober, for Day 3: kisses!

SFW. Potential warnings: none. Supernatural/Destiel fic.

Word count: 1,660

~*~

Dean had been glowering at the mess of the room, the wooden pieces and metal connectors that were supposedly the beginnings of a dining table. After an hour of his brow getting more and more furrowed, Dean had finally conceded to Cas’ suggestion of a break. With Cas sitting against the wall and Dean leaning back against his chest, the lines in the hunter’s forehead had already begun to soften, especially when a kiss was pressed to his temple and a hand run through his hair (not to mention when he closed his eyes so as to stop seeing red as well as his newest foe of difficult furniture).

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” said Cas.

“No promises,” Dean replied. “Whatcha got?”

“Do you remember when I resurrected you?”

The bluntness of the question startled a chuckle out of Dean, who then shook his head with his eyebrows raised and the corners of his mouth downturned. “No, doesn’t ring a bell,” he smirked. “When did that happen?”

Cas let out a huff of a laugh and slipped his arms around Dean’s waist, pulling him closer and using his shoulder as a rest for his chin. “It, ah—” He nudged a nearby piece of helter-skelter furniture bits with his foot. “It was a lot like this.”

“You’re telling me that you resurrecting me was like us trying to build an IKEA table?” Dean said, tipping his head back to quirk his eyebrow at Cas and shoot him a grin.

“Kind of.” Cas nodded. “Yes.”

Dean had been incredulous and almost thought he should be offended by that. Furniture assembly wasn’t exactly the most fun thing to be compared to. But then, Dean had never built a human before, either; there were probably a lot of complex parts that didn’t make sense, especially when one didn’t have instructions (unhelpful or otherwise). It sort of made sense. He snickered, “And here I always pictured it like a Renaissance painting, of you descending all majestically with your wings unfurled and lightning flashing.”

“Not at all,” said Cas with a chuckle. “It was more like when I find you at the bar after too many and have to drag you home, mixed with hundreds of angels trying to build the Eiffel Tower out of Lincoln Logs.”

At the first part of the comparison, Dean had been about to retort, but the image of high-and-mighty angels building with kids’ tools made him curl forward in laughter he kept trapped in his chest by pressing his lips together on a grin.

Still holding him around the middle, Cas felt Dean’s stomach shake in mirth, and the angel grinned in kind. “Gabriel suggested balling your soul up and pitching it out of hell, hoping you’d stitch yourself back together on the way up.” He pressed a smiling kiss to Dean’s shaking shoulder. “He was outvoted.”

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face to reign in his humor, leaning back into Cas’ arms once more with a crooked smile aimed at his partner. “Guess I was too big a deal to just chuck and pray for the best, huh?” He added, “Thank Chuck.”

“You are a big deal, Dean,” Cas said, ironically tender for having just joked about him being Lincoln Logs.

Dean tried to cover the flush in his freckled cheeks by giving Cas a wink. “Don’t I know it, angel.” He curled forward again, this time prompted by Cas wiggling a chastising finger into his stomach.

“Even if you also have a big head to match,” Cas teased dryly, poking Dean again to turn his affronted protest into a strangled yelp. Too stubborn to give up on impossible furniture, too stubborn to laugh. Cas was stubborn, too. “The prophecy you were part of was big, too, so a lot of angels were there at the start, none of us knowing how it would go,” Cas continued, feeling Dean sink into him once again when he believed the angel’s hands had ceased their mischief. “I pulled you out, but there was this liminal space where repair and restoration, you might say, were going to be done before you were sent back, and a lot of angels were squished in there, eager and waiting. Hell does quite a lot to a soul, you know better than most, and we needed time to put you back together. But—”

“Lincoln Logs,” Dean surmised, and Cas nodded.

“Apparently, eons of inhabiting and healing human bodies does not make angels qualified to rebuild them. Many hands make light work, but too many hands end up just getting the way.” Cas smirked as he pulled Dean into a tighter squeeze. “Something would be in the wrong spot—”

A gasp was startled from Dean’s lungs as Cas gave a demonstrative tickle between his ribs. For a valiant few seconds, he kept from laughing, straining forward halfheartedly to break free of Cas’ embrace. Cas’ fingers burrowing under his arms, however, made him fold forward with a snicker that turned into a symphony of chortles. “Cas!”

“Or inside out,” Cas went on as though he wasn’t torturing his partner and enjoying every second of hearing him howl. He enjoyed just as much how Dean, undeterrable and unkillable, was putting up little fight to actually escape. It made Cas not feel so bad about what he was going to do next. “Or uneven,” said the angel, shaking his head disapprovingly even as he smiled hugely at the sound of Dean’s laugh. Said sound grew distinctly into open-mouthed guffaws when Cas’ hands slid down, slipping into Dean’s front jean pockets to dig into his hips.

Dean flew back against Cas’ chest, cackles already going wheezy at the targeting of such a hypersensitive spot. He scrabbled for Cas’ hands, going to no lengths to push him away and so being pushed down by his own laughter until he’d sunk out of Cas’ evil arms and fully onto the floor. Little hope it gave him in the way of escape, but Cas relented then, evidently having concluded that Dean’s hips were even, and gazed down at him fondly.

While Dean caught his breath, Cas jumped back onto his train of thought, albeit with great difficulty, as Dean’s eyes were shining with that happy sparkle he always got after laughing hard, his laugh lines were prominent, the skin under his freckles was rosy, and his shirt had ridden up when he’d gone full puddle mode and revealed a strip of stomach, still heaving from laughter, that Cas was very tempted to pounce on and kiss. “It had started out a mess,” he said when he got himself to focus, “and was a very different mess by the time all the other angels had stepped out to return to heaven and let me finish fixing you.”

“You did a bang-up job,” Dean teased with a breathless chuckle, scooting to rest his cheek on Cas’ thigh. “Even if it means you know me way too well now.”

Cas chuckled, then looked away, worrying his lip between his teeth sheepishly. “I took a lot more time than I needed to. I think. Like I said, liminal space. Even when you were ready enough to be sent back to life, I… I don’t know.” Cas’ eyes flicked back to Dean, who’d shifted to look up at the angel, so at peace and content to listen with the stress of the last hour laughed away. “I wanted you to be fully you,” he said with a sigh and a soft smile. “To know that you were important, not because you were part of some prophecy, but because you were you.” He gave Dean’s forehead a tap with two fingers, and Dean sat up accommodatingly so Cas could shift and lay down beside him, wrapping him up in the angel’s arms once more. “I may or may not have already fallen for you then.”

Dean nuzzled into Cas’ collar with a chuckle. “Sap.”

“Sentimental,” Cas corrected with a kiss to Dean’s hair. “But I don’t regret it. I’m glad to have you wholly you, especially when I get to have you wholly to myself.”

When Dean tipped his head back from its place burrowed into Cas’ neck, the angel could see his intent was to tease him again, accuse him of being sappy once more. But, in the course of that movement, Dean must have changed his mind, because he instead pulled Cas over and on top of him, capturing the startled laughter from the angel’s lips in a kiss.

“That said,” Cas said, pulling back from the kiss equally breathless as the smiling but confused Dean under him, “now that I’m looking, I see I may have missed putting back a few freckles.” With his fingertips, Cas dotted an invisible constellation upon Dean’s cheeks, delighting as they warmed under his touch. “Do you mind if I fix that? Angel kisses, you know.”

Dean rolled his eyes at the corny line, biting his lip as though he had any chance of stowing his beaming grin. Minutely, he nodded, quietly quipping, “Go nuts.”

Cas pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek and then sat back to straddle his thighs. At Dean’s raised eyebrow, Cas slowly rolled up the hem of the hunter’s t-shirt and shimmied down the waistline of his jeans, revealing his soft lower stomach, still tingling hips, and the freckles that dotted both, to the angel’s adoring and mischievous gaze.

When that gaze met Dean’s, the hunter let his head drop, pretending the ceiling was the only thing that could see the heat coloring his face and the wobbly smile he was already trying to pinch between his lips. The first stubbly kiss to Dean’s stomach got a jaw-clenched giggle out of him, and he felt a sudden thrill up his spine at all the similar kisses he knew were about to follow. There was no way they were getting that table built today.

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legends-live-in-memories · 4 years ago

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Do You Believe in Magic?

AYO second day in a row can you believe it? I come with more content.

Fics Masterlist

Wallynette Oneshot 3.1K words (no warnings apply) Summary: “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?”

without further ado:

“That’s ridiculous!” He was pacing back and forth, arms waving in the air to compliment his theatrics. “Magic shouldn’t be able to do that, it defies all logic!”

“That’s the point! Magic exists outside of logical reasoning!” The shorter girl was equally as furious, standing in place and growing redder by the minute.

“Nothing exists outside of logical reasoning! Everything can easily be explained with science.” The redhead had paused his pacing to stare down the noirette before him. He was uncaring of his volume, ignorant to how his voice echoed in the large cave. “Your Lucky Charm is nothing more than transdimensional materialisation. An already pre-existing object is broken down into subatomic particles and rearranged at your location.”

“Are you really trying to tell me how my own Lucky Charm works?” She had sounded absolutely livid at the assumption. And Dick had to agree with her. Wally was in no position to tell her how her own powers worked. Before he could interject the screaming match between his two best friends, she was going off again. “And are you really trying to tell me that somewhere in the world existed a red and black-spotted doughnut just waiting to be used? That when Antibug was around a ladybug patterned flamethrower was just lying somewhere?”

“Oh please, there are plenty of flamethrowers all over the world and they probably only appeared ladybug themed due to shifts in light refraction.” He had stopped waving his arms around and crossed them in front of his chest. He was standing in her space now, leering over her trying to be imposing. “Simple fact is magic. Isn’t. Real.”

“You can run faster than the speed of sound! If you really think it was your precious science that saved you after willingly striking yourself with lightning in hopes of tapping into a cross-dimensional ‘speed-force,’ then you’re dumber than I thought.” She had gotten even closer now, pressing a finger into his chest and pushing him back.

“Are they still at this?” Kaldur had walked up beside Dick with two soda cans, silently offering him one. His voice sounded tired, visibly annoyed at the constant bickering.

“An hour and counting,” he sighs. The sounds of their bickering slowly faded into background noise. “For today at least. But they’ve been butting heads ever since she’s joined the team. Kinda exhausting.”

Marinette, a.k.a Ladybug, had joined the team after Wonder Woman deemed Paris officially safe from any more magical mayhem. While the rest of Paris’s heroes chose to retire and preserve the rest of their teen years, Marinette did not have that option. Magical Guardian and all. The JLE welcomed her with open arms and Wonder Woman decided to introduce her to the Team. She got along great with M'gann, the two could almost always be found baking or exchanging recipes in the cave’s kitchen and they, plus Artemis, went on frequent shopping trips. Conner saw her as a little sister, which was unexpected but it probably had to do with the fact she was a whole foot shorter and he had natural instincts to protect those who looked meek. She was anything but meek but first impressions were a damning thing sometimes. Marinette was Kaldur’s biggest supporter, always ready to back him up when it came to tough Team related decisions, something born from her own experience as a leader. The two understood each other the best. She also related to Dick on the importance of secret identities and while the Team still only knows him as Robin, she was the only one who never pestered him on it, respecting the lengths he would go to for the sake of anonymity.

Wally was the only one the newest member clashed with. Magic skeptic, meet magic connoisseur. Unstoppable force, meet immovable object. They almost never agreed on anything. Every time the two were left alone for more than two minutes it evolved into a screaming match. Wally was insistent on pushing all of Marinette’s buttons and she was always eager to defend herself and magic as a whole. Her rather short fuse didn’t make matters any better. It hadn’t affected missions, arguments reserved for the safety of the cave, but it was only a matter of time before that became an actual issue. He voiced as much to Kaldur who agreed with only a contemplative nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s moments like these where Kaldur hated when Robin was right. At least he was on another mission with Batman so he didn’t have to bear witness to this fiasco.

The Team was currently in Louisiana investigating the disappearance of Dr. Kent Nelson, better known as Dr. Fate, the Sorcerer Supreme. And Wally was being argumentative with Marinette while simultaneously trying to impress M'gann. It had put Artemis on edge and she kept taking jabs at him whenever an opportunity arose. And even when one didn’t.

They had just barely escaped the pit above lava, standing above the cool platform.

“Don’t worry, Megalicious,” Wally had moved to support M'gann, throwing an arm above her shoulders, drawing her into his side. “I’ve got you.”

“Enough!” Artemis had cut in between the two of them, pushing Wally away from the Martian, her frustration palpable even from where Kaldur was standing. “Your little ‘Impress Megan at all costs’ game nearly got us all barbecued.”

“When did this become my fault?”

“When you lied to that whatever it was and called yourself a true believer.”

“Wally, you don’t believe?” M'gann sounded hurt at that. Wally looked across the room, before coming to a silent conclusion.

“Fine, fine! I lied about believing in magic. But magic is the real lie, a major load.”

“I can’t believe you’re still on that.” Marinette, who had remained silent before, finally entered the conversation, ready to defend her craft. “We just fell over five hundred feet below ground into an almost fiery death and you still don’t believe it? Was the magically appearing Tower not enough? Or the fact that our feet are not being scorched right now?”

Wanting to put an end to this conversation, Kaldur said his piece.

“Wally, I have studied for a year at the Conservatory of Sorcery in Atlantis.” He had crouched down, rubbing the surface of the floor. “The mystic arts created the skin icons that power my water bearers.”

“Dude, have you ever heard of bioelectricity? Hey in primitive cultures fire was once considered magical too. Today it’s all just a bunch of tricks.”

“What I do is not a trick. Do you really think destroying the Eiffel Tower, and putting it back in place is just some trick? Or how about when an old akuma was able to control the weather and created a volcano in the middle of Paris? Were those all tricks too? Were the casualties just results of things that don’t exist?” Marinette was becoming increasingly agitated as her rant went on. M'gann moved to comfort her, embracing her slightly.

“Don’t put words in my mouth! I never said the lives lost weren’t real! It was tragic, yeah, but that was due to real scientific explanations.”

“Science can’t bring people back from the dead.” Her voice was more subdued and sombre and her shoulders were curling into her body. The atmosphere was increasingly getting more depressing so Kaldur grabbed onto the latch, hoping that making progress into the mission would revive the Team’s energy.

He ignored Wally’s protests about heat backdrafts and came face first to a rush of frigid air.

“Do you ever get tired of being wrong?” Artemis was rather smug as she threw a smirk over her shoulder. Kaldur just wished the rest of the mission wouldn’t be like this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Artemis was going to tear her hair out. Or probably Wally’s. Yeah, she was going to tear Wally’s hair out. It had been a week since the Dr. Fate mission and he still hasn't apologized to Marinette. His refusal to believe in magic was not only screwing up the team dynamics but it was forcing Marinette’s hand, pushing her to dig up trauma, to try and prove to him that magic is real. Artemis didn’t understand why it was so important to her that Wally believed in magic but it was and that was enough for Artemis to stand by her friend.

The two haven’t even spoken to each other since the mission and it was painfully obvious that Marinette was avoiding him. Valid, but still aggravating when it put everyone on the team on edge. Artemis wasn’t one to play peacemaker, leaving that to Kaldur and Marinette, but since this ongoing conflict involved the Parasian, and Kaldur had his hands full with a mission in Atlantis, someone had to step up and that person was her. Wonderful.

She had tracked Wally in the medical facility, tinkering with some of the equipment and taking inventory of their supplies, a job Red Tornado routinely asks him to do. She skipped any greeting and just started plucking items out of his hands. Ignoring his protests, she kept going until his hands were empty then grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the training room and shoving him into the center ring.

“Shut up and stay,” was all she said, crossing her arms and freezing him with a glare. She wasn’t in the mood for any of his gimmicks tonight. The sound of the zetatubes announcing the Ladybug designation alerted her to Marinette’s return from Paris. Time for the next part of her plan.

“Don’t move,” she said as she turned to retrieve the other person for her plan. A firm ‘I mean it’ was tossed over her shoulder as she left.

Collecting Marinette was easier said than done. Artemis was headstrong on a good day, she will admit, but now as a woman on a mission she was down right intimidating and she knew it. Marinette took one look at her expression and bolted for the zetatube she just stepped out of. Artemis was having none of that and was able to grab the much shorter girl before she could get any further. While Artemis was mentally applauding herself she was also begrudgingly impressed with how difficult it was to hold the girl. Dragging her to the training deck was becoming more trouble than it was probably worth.

Artemis could pinpoint the exact moment Marinette’s eyes landed on the speedster because her efforts doubled and she almost escaped Artemis’s grasp. She dropped her gracelessly on the floor and moved to block the exit before either could do anything.

“Neither of you are leaving until you work out your issues,” she was huffing from exhaustion, both mental and physical. “Whether that means punching the shit out of each other or talking it out like normal people: I don’t care. But no one leaves this room until you two stop screwing with the team dynamics.”

She left no room for arguments and turned to stand outside the exit, giving them some semblance of privacy. If they didn’t work out their issues here, Artemis’s plan B involved Connor tossing them into the far end of the coastline. Hopefully, Wally and Marinette were reasonable enough it wouldn’t have to come to that.

Oh, who was she kidding?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wally stared at Artemis’s retreating figure and then at a very interesting spot on the cave wall. He felt like an asshole all week and, after his experience with the helmet of Fate, he knew he would have to be the one to mend the ever growing gap between him and Marinette. Still, he couldn’t face her yet. Every time he looked at her, or saw her hastily leave any room he was in, his mind flashed to those haunting words she had said.

Science can’t bring people back from the dead.

He knew that. He knew there were harsh limitations on what science can and can’t do. Magic shouldn’t have been any different. And he thought he understood what she had to deal with during her time in Paris but he was wrong. He was so painfully wrong that it took his body being overtaken by a mystic ‘Lord of Order’ for him to really comprehend that. He just… He just couldn’t wrap his head around someone so young being entrusted with so much power. Magic was inexplicable. It defied reason and was unpredictable so he never understood how someone as self-assured as Marinette could put her faith in something that unreliable. So he lashed out at her. Then he did it again. And again so much so that he can’t remember ever having a civil conversation with her.

He messed up and he knew it but the shame he felt in the past week was too much for him to handle and he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“Look,” his head snapped to the sound of her voice. She wasn’t looking at him, holding herself for comfort. “I’m sorry for ignoring you, I didn’t realise it was affecting the rest of the team.”

No. no no nonono.

She shouldn’t be apologizing. She had nothing to apologize for and Wally is the ass in this situation not her so why is she apologizing? He needs to fix this. Fast.

“You don’t need to apologize,” such a terrible start, Wallace. Congratulations. “I was the one who pushed your buttons and called magic a big trick.”

She had lifted her head slightly but her gaze still wasn’t focused on him, rather she was looking beyond him just above his shoulder. He took a step closer and when she hadn’t made a break for the exit, he took that as a good sign.

“Listen, Marinette,” her eyes dart to and away from him in an instant. He didn’t let that stop him though. “All those times, times when I called magic fake or belittled its legitimacy, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was just trying to wrap my head around its absurdity.”

“It doesn’t matter what you were trying to do,” she finally locked her gaze on him and the pain swimming in her eyes was going to burn him alive. “You still hurt me. You took everything I did, everything I’ve learned and lost and loved and called it a hoax, you called it unreal, and you doubted everything I’ve ever accomplished. I have memories I may never recover from because of magic, scars that will never heal from something you didn’t want to believe in.”

There were unshed tears in her eyes and Wally wanted to brush them away. He didn’t, but fighting the urge was herculean of him. He didn’t get the chance to respond, though, but he wouldn’t dare interrupt her.

“Did you ever realise how those arguments affected me? I used to look up to you, Kid Flash, before joining the team.” He never knew that. Why didn’t he know that? “You were always so cheerful and the media framed you as someone who believed in the impossible. That was something I needed back in Paris. Because there was nothing more impossible to me than ever getting a chance to defeat Hawkmoth.”

She was openly crying now, her cheeks blotchy and eyes red. Wally didn’t know what to say so he took a chance and opened his arms to her. A silent invitation, a quiet apology. Whatever this little spitfire needed from him. He would willingly give it.

She took the offer and crashed her face into his chest, hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. He wrapped his arms snuggly around her, almost crushing her to his chest.

“I needed someone who believed in the impossible to believe in me.” Her sobs were heartbreaking. Wally could only caress her on the back in a futile attempt to comfort her. “That someone was you but then you had no problem looking me in the eye and saying you don’t believe in magic. How could you?”

“I am so sorry, Marinette.” He could never apologize enough. He was willing to dedicate his life making it up to her. He was silently praying to gods he also didn’t believe in that she would let him try. Before she could say anything, and he felt the hitch in her shoulders as she was taking steadying breaths to do so, he continued.

“I never knew what I—Kid Flash— meant to you. I only argued against magic so much because I didn’t want to believe that something that unpredictable was the only thing keeping someone like you safe. I heard all the stories; Wonder Woman loved to gush and brag about her mother’s successor, but I could never believe that someone could do such incredible things by magic alone. It was mind boggling.”

Wally felt more than heard the faint gasp at his confession. He pulled her off his chest, holding her a short distance by her shoulders, so that he could look into her eyes.

“I’m really sorry; I don’t think I can ever tell you how sorry I am.” She needed to know how genuine he was. He may clown around a lot but he was absolutely serious in this moment. He hoped she could see the sincerity in his eyes.

“I—,” she cut herself off, and Wally could see her growing frustrated with her own loss of words. She opened her mouth to speak again but she was interrupted.

“OH just kiss already!” Artemis’s rough voice echoed in the room and Wally’s gaze flashed to where her back was facing them by the entrance. She looked uncomfortable standing there but clearly she had an agenda she was seeing through. He didn’t pay her any more attention as he focused back on the increasingly red girl still within his grasps. The hurt that was previously in her eyes was quickly replaced with embarrassment and she couldn’t look Wally in the eyes.

He felt a sudden rush of confidence at her demeanor and hoped he wasn’t about to make the second biggest mistake of his life. He bent his head slightly, casting a smirk at the small girl.

“Well, if that’s what the people want,” he pulled her closer to him then, her mousy ‘eep’ sounding adorable in response. He cupped her chin between two fingers, tilting her head up. “May I?”

She didn’t speak but her answering nod and slow closing of her eyes encouraged him to close the distance between them.

Wally’s been struck by lightning before but it doesn’t compare to the feeling of her lips on his. Her lips tasted like slowly drying tears and her favourite vanilla lip balm. The kiss wasn’t perfect, her lips were slightly chapped, as were his, and their noses bumped into each other, but it was the best kiss of his life.

They broke away from the kiss but neither moved far from each other. They stayed like that for who knows how long. Staring intently at each other, committing the other’s face to memory. And as Wally stared at her tear streaked face and into her slightly red and puffy eyes, he came to a single conclusion.

He definitely believed in magic.

#maribat #mgi trope tussle #enemies to lovers #speed run #wallynette #I am doing such interesting rare pairs for some reason #mlb x dc #ml x dc #tumblr do me a solid #tumblr please stop hiding my posts #no beta this is tussle #mgi event #tumblr wtf pls #AAAAH i completely forgot to mention this was based off a specific piece of canon #yj series season 1 ep 7 btw

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maandarinee · 4 years ago

Note

what are all the podcasts you listen to?

anon I'm so glad you asked

Since it is a pretty long list including synopses (stolen from the podcast feed or website because I'm Bad at summaries and in some cases it's been a while since I listened) I'm going to put it under a cut.

I've separated the list into "Complete" (either finished or cancelled) and "Ongoing" podcasts. Some have additional comments by me. Current favorites are marked orange. My eternal beloved are Our Fair City and Wolf 359.

Complete

ars PARADOXICA: "When an experiment in a time much like our own goes horribly awry, Dr. Sally Grissom finds herself stranded in the past and entrenched in the activities of a clandestine branch of the US government. Grissom and her team quickly learn that there's no safety net when toying with the fundamental logic of the universe."

Blackwood: "Five years ago, Molly Weaver, Bryan Anderson, and Nathan Howell started a podcast focused on the local legend of a monster called The Blackwood Bugman. Quickly, the investigation grew out of their control, as they discovered that, not only are the legends seemingly true, many people in Blackwood have turned up dead or disappeared without a trace." --> [this feels like the Blair With Project, but as a podcast. Didn't get a second season due to no funding, but it works as a standalone]

Dreamboy: "Dane, a spun-out musician spending the winter in Cleveland, Ohio, has two main goals: keeping his job at the Pepper Heights Zoo and trying not to waste all his time on Grindr. What he doesn’t expect is to get swept into a story about dreams, about forevers, about flickering lights, about unexplained deaths, about relentless change, and about the parts of ourselves that we wish other people knew to look for. Oh, and also a murderous zebra." --> [very NSFW; does cool things with music! Didn't get a second season due to no funding, but it works as a standalone]

King Fall AM: "...centers on a lonely little mountain town's late-night AM talk radio show and its paranormal, peculiar happenings and inhabitants." --> [cancelled after 100 episodes, ends on a huge cliffhanger]

Our Fair City: "A campy, post-apocalyptic audio drama." --> [I know the description sounds like nothing but just trust me, I love it so much]

Steal the Stars: "...is a gripping noir science fiction thriller in 14 episodes: Forbidden love, a crashed UFO, an alien body, and an impossible heist unlike any ever attempted."

Stellar Firma: "...a weekly Science Fiction, Comedy podcast following the misadventures of Stellar Firma Ltd.'s highest born but lowest achieving planetary designer Trexel Geistman and his bewildered clone assistant David 7. Join them each episode as they attempt to take listener submissions and craft them into the galaxy's most luxurious, most expensive and most questionably designed bespoke planets. However, with Trexel's corporate shark of a line manager Hartro Piltz breathing down their necks and I.M.O.G.E.N., the station's omnipresent and omniinvasive stationwide A.I. monitoring those necks to within 3 decimal places, they'll be lucky to make it a week before being slurried and recycled into raw human resources." --> [semi-improvised, I thought I'd have a problem with the improv bit because that's not usually my thing, but no, I absolutely devoured this]

TANIS: "...is a serialized docudrama about a fascinating and surprising mystery: the myth of Tanis. Tanis is an exploration of the nature of truth, conspiracy, and information. Tanis is what happens when the lines of science and fiction start to blur." [+ spinoff The Last Movie] --> [I have no clue what the hell is going on here]

The Black Tapes: "...is a serialized docudrama about one journalist's searc for truth, her enigmatic subject's mysterious past, and the literal and figurative ghosts that haunt them both."

The Magnus Archives: "...is a weekly horror fiction anthology podcast examining what lurks in the archives of the Magnus Institute, an organisation dedicated to researching the esoteric and the weird. Join new head archivist Jonathan Sims as he attempts to bring a seemingly neglected collection of supernatural statements up to date, converting them to audio and supplementing them with follow-up work from his small but dedicated team. Individually, they are unsettling. Together they begin to form a picture that is truly horrifying because as they look into the depths of the archives, something starts to look back…"

Time:Bombs: "...a new audio drama podcast about the hilarious world of bomb disposal. Ride along with EOD technician Simon Teller on the busiest night of the year for him and his team - when business is, quite literally, booming."

Wolf 359: "Life's not easy for Doug Eiffel, the communications officer for the U.S.S. Hephaestus Research Station, currently on Day 448 of its orbit around red dwarf star Wolf 359. He's stuck on a scientific survey mission of indeterminate length, 7.8 light years from Earth. His only company on board the station are stern mission chief Minkowski, insane science officer Hilbert, and Hephaestus Station's sentient, often malfunctioning operating system Hera. He doesn't have much to do for his job other than monitoring static and intercepting the occasional decades-old radio broadcast from Earth, so he spends most of his time creating extensive audio logs about the ordinary, day-to-day happenings within the station. But the Hephaestus is an odd place, and life in extremely isolated, zero gravity conditions has a way of doing funny things to people's minds. Even the simplest of tasks can turn into a gargantuan struggle, and the most ordinary-seeming things have a way of turning into anything but that." --> [starts funny, turns very intense]

Ongoing

Alba Salix, Roya Physician (+ The Axe & Crown): "A witch, her apprentice, and her fairy herbalist treat the ills of a fairy-tale kingdom." + "Gubbin the troll tavernkeeper deals with his clueless new landlord, his shady niece, and some new competition."

Archive 81: "A found footage horror podcast about ritual, stories, and sound."

Arden: "A (fictional) true crime podcast about cold cases and the reporter and detective who try to solve them."

Brimstone Valley Mall: "The year is 1999. Lurking somewhere between Hot Topic and the food court, five misfit demons from Hell kill time inciting sin in a suburban shopping mall. When the lead singer of their band goes mysteriously missing, the demons only have two weeks to find him before they play the biggest gig of the millennium - or face the wrath of Satan herself."

CARAVAN: "First rule of Wound Canyon: No one who gets in, ever gets out. So when a brilliant, ghostly specter flies through the sky amid the rain and lightning, Samir stumbles off a steep cliff and into a hidden world, one in which demons, vampires, and all other manner of paranormal creatures take sanctuary." --> [also pretty NSFW and horny in general]

Death by Dying: "The Obituary Writer of Crestfall, Idaho finds himself deeply in over his head as he investigates a series of strange and mysterious deaths… when he is supposed to simply be writing obituaries. Along the way he encounters murderous farmers, man-eating cats, haunted bicycles, and a healthy dose of ominous shadows." --> [I had to stop listening to this in public because it kept making me undignified laugh and snort noises]

Desperado: "Blood magic, Voodoo magic, old gods, new gods: We've got it all! Follow the story of misfits from all over the world, as they try to survive and protect their heritage from modern-day crusaders."

EOS 10: "Doctors in space, a deposed alien prince, a super gay space pirate and a fiery nurse who'll help you win your bar fight."

Girl In Space: "Abandoned on a dying ship in the farthest reaches of known space, a young scientist fights for survival (and patience with the on-board A.I.). Who is she? No one knows. But a lot of dangerous entities really want to find out. Listen as the story unfolds for science, guns, trust, anti-matter, truth, beauty, inner turmoil, and delicious cheeses. It’s all here. In space."

Janus Descending: "...follows the arrival of two xenoarcheologists on a small world orbiting a binary star. But what starts off as an expedition to survey the planet and the remains of a lost alien civilization, turns into a monstrous game of cat and mouse, as the two scientists are left to face the creatures that killed the planet in the first place. Told from two alternating perspectives, Janus Descending is an experience of crossing timelines, as one character describes the nightmare from end to beginning, and the other, from beginning to the end." --> [absolutely harrowing horror]

Love and Luck: "...is a fictional radio play podcast, told via voicemails and set in present day Melbourne, Australia. A slice of life queer romance story with a touch of magic, it follows the relationship between two men, Jason and Kane, as their love grows both for each other and their community." --> [soft and gay, feels like a warm hug]

Potterless: "Join Mike Schubert, a grown man reading the Harry Potter series for the first time, as he sits down with HP fanatics to poke fun at plot holes, make painfully incorrect predictions, and bask in the sassiness of the characters." --> [the only non-fiction podcast on the list]

Primordial Deep: "When a long extinct sea creature washes up on the shores of Coney Island, marine biologist Dr. Marella Morgan is contacted by a secret organization to investigate the origins of the creature’s sudden and unnatural resurgence. Soon, she and a team of experts find themselves living on the research station The Tiamat, traveling along the abyssal plains as they search for answers far below the waves. But there are dangers in these ancient waters. Reawakened, prehistoric monsters are rising from the deep -- jaws wide and waiting, and in the darkness, something is stirring."

Red Valley: "No one at Overhead Industries wants to talk about defunct research station Red Valley, and account man Warren Godby is out of his depth. When he meets Gordon Porlock, a disgruntled archivist with a bag of tapes from the station’s last known occupant, they will begin a journey to the limits of experimental science, confront horror and trauma from the past, present and future, and try to remember the cheat codes from Sonic the Hedgehog 2."

Rusty Quill Gaming: "An actual play podcast following a mixed ability group of comedians, improvisers, gamers, and writers as they play through the extended, tabletop roleplaying campaign Erasing the Line, an original game world of the GM’s crafting." --> [took me a while to get into because I have trouble focusing on non-scripted things, but eventually I got really hooked on the plot and attached to the characters. This podcast is really fucked up at times if you think about it]

SAYER: "A narrative fiction podcast set on Earth’s man-made second moon, Typhon. The eponymous SAYER is a highly advanced, self-aware AI created to help acclimate new residents to their new lives, and their new employment with Ærolith Dynamics." --> [feels like Welcome to Night Vale but narrated by GLaDOS from Portal]

StarTripper!!: "Join Feston Pyxis on a road-trip through the cosmos, as he leaves behind his old life in search of the best and wildest experiences the galaxy has to offer!"

The Amelia Project: "...is a secret agency that fakes its clients' deaths, then lets them reappear with a brand new identity! A black comedy full of secrets, twists... and cocoa."

The Big Loop: "...a biweekly anthology series. Each episode is a self-contained narrative exploring the strange, the wonderful, the terrifying, and the heartbreaking. Stories of finite beings in an infinite universe." --> [I don't like anthologies, except this one]

The Bright Sessions: "Dr. Bright provides therapy for the strange and unusual; their sessions have been recorded for research purposes." --> [think X-Men, but with therapy instead of a school]

The Deca Tapes: "Recordings have surfaced of ten people that are locked into the same space together. We don’t know where they are, or if they'll get out. But the answers must be somewhere on these tapes."

The Silt Verses: "Carpenter and Faulkner, two worshippers of an outlawed god, travel up the length of their deity’s great black river, searching for holy revelations. As their pilgrimage lengthens and the river’s mysteries deepen, the two acolytes find themselves under threat from a police manhunt, but also come into conflict with the weirder gods that have flourished in these forgotten rural territories."

The White Vault: "Follow the collected records of a repair team sent to Outpost Fristed in the vast white wastes of Svalbard and unravel what lies waiting in the ice below."

Tides: "...is the story of Dr. Winifred Eurus, a xenobiologist trapped on an unfamiliar planet with hostile tidal forces. She must use her wits, sarcasm and intellectual curiosity to survive long enough to be rescued. But there might be more to life on this planet than she expected." --> [think The Martian, but on a water planet]

Unwell, a Midwestern Gothic Mystery: "Lillian Harper moves to the small town of Mt. Absalom, Ohio, to care for her estranged mother Dorothy after an injury. Living in the town's boarding house which has been run by her family for generations, she discovers conspiracies, ghosts, and a new family in the house's strange assortment of residents."

VAST Horizon: "Nolira is an agronomist tasked with establishing agriculture in a new solar system, but when she wakes up on a now- empty colony ship, the whole of her plan disappears. The ship has been set adrift, with numerous mission-critical problems requiring immediate attendance outside of her area of expertise. Nolira is aided by the ship’s malfunctioning AI, which acts as her confidant and companion during the fight for survival."

Victoriocity: "Even Greater London, 1887. In this vast metropolis, Inspector Archibald Fleet and journalist Clara Entwhistle investigate a murder, only to find themselves at the centre of a conspiracy of impossible proportions."

We Fix Space Junk: "...follows seasoned smuggler Kilner and reluctant fugitive Samantha as they travel the galaxy, dodging bullets and meeting strange and wonderful beings as they carry out odd jobs on the fringes of the law."

Welcome to Night Vale: "Twice-monthly community updates for the small desert town of Night Vale, where every conspiracy theory is true. Turn on your radio and hide."

Within the Wires: "Stories told through found audio from an alternate universe."

Wooden Overcoats: "Rudyard Funn and his equally miserable sister Antigone run their family's failing funeral parlour, where they get the body in the coffin in the ground on time. But one day they find everyone enjoying themselves at the funerals of a new competitor - the impossibly perfect Eric Chapman! With their dogsbody Georgie, and a mouse called Madeleine, the Funns are taking drastic steps to stay in the business…" --> [one of THE funniest podcasts I have ever listened to]

#ask #anon #please talk to me about podcasts at all times #podcasts #podcast recommendations

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lu-undy · 4 years ago

Text

Valentine’s day 5 - Alternate Universe

My choice went to have Lucien be a baker in Paris while Mundy is visiting the city with his parents!

Here it is on AO3!

"Micky, please tell your mum I'm starvin'."

"Mum, Dad's starvin'." Mundy's head swung from left to right.

"Micky, tell your Dad that I'm done with this cathedral now and we can get some lunch."

Both father and son cheered as they exited the impressive Cathédrale Montmartre.

It had been a few days now that the Turner family had travelled from their native Australia to Paris, France. After years of saving, the farmers and the hunter managed to gather the amount they needed to take some very well earned holidays and see a part of the world that Caroline, the mother, had always dreamt of visiting.

And it was Mundy, the son, now close to forty years old, who had suggested the idea of the trip. In his line of work, travelling was usual and he had seen a few places, and a lot of species already. He knew that his mother had always dreamt of seeing the City of Lights and so, he pushed for the idea to become a reality.

At first his parents thought it was way out of what they could afford not only financially, but physically. They were getting close to their seventies! But Mundy insisted and told the tale of a lot of his patrons who were that age and older, yet still roaming the world.

Caroline and Mike, mother and father, eventually accepted the idea, and Mundy worked extra shifts in pubs, playing the saxophone in some bands here and there, to add a few notes in the piggy bank.

There they were now, the three of them, in the capital of romance. The cathedral they had just visited was on the top of a hill from which they could see the entire city of Paris splayed out and spread in le Bassin Parisien, the valley in which the capital was planted. It was easy to distinguish the business district with its towers of black and blue-ish glass, from the more residential or commercial areas. The Eiffel tower obviously pointed to the sky further away.

Mundy had turned out to be the official photographer for the trip. He just enjoyed seeing the delight on his parents' faces and took pictures of them doing absolutely anything. They had never travelled much and he wanted them to have physical memories of it. On some pictures, they were pointing at a monument, on these ones, they were trying to decipher the names of the streets with a map wide open under their eyes, or just sitting on a bench and enjoying a cone of ice cream. Yes, it was July and peak summer in France, which was quite a surprise for the Aussies, but a welcome one. They all preferred hot and sunny weather, and were used to it.

"Let's try this bakery maybe?"

Caroline pointed at a reasonably small shop. The front of it was Burgundy red with the name shining in golden letters.

"Chez Lucien".

[Lucien's.]

Mundy pushed the door and let his parents through. The jingle of a bell rang and immediately after, a wave of delicious smells washed their lungs and made their mouths water even more.

"Bonjour." The baker greeted them. "Que puis-je faire pour vous?"

[What can I do for you?]

"Bonjour." Mundy tried his best accent. "Do you speak English?"

"Oui, I do." The Turner family sighed in relief. They were now used to communicating in sign language but finding someone who could understand even a bit of English was just their luck. "How may I help you?" The baker answered with more than a hint of a French accent.

"Just give us a second, son. I mean look at all these good things, the smell's amazin'!" Mike said, his eyes running through the sandwiches, the quiches and pastries.

"Merci. Will it be to eat here?”

“Yeah, think so.” Mike answered.

“In that case, you may make yourselves comfortable at a table.” The baker suggested.

Mundy noticed there were only two tables inside and one on the pavement. They relieved themselves of their backpacks and came back in front of the glass.

“Do take your time and don't hesitate to ask me if you need me to explain anything."

"Thanks, mate." Mundy answered.

Caroline held Mike's arm dearly as they chatted and pointed at sandwiches here and there behind the glass. Mundy gave them a bit of space and had a look at the desserts.

The colours beckoned his eyes. Red strawberries, all the shades of brown chocolate, white sugar, green pistachio, orange apricot tarts, yellow lemon ones. And the textures looked very different too. Mundy wished he could try a few.

And what a powerful yet pleasant mix of smells. The smell of hot flour was drowning Mundy entirely. As he raised his eyes and looked behind the baker, bread of different shapes, sizes and colours were neatly arranged in wicker baskets. It was impressive.

"What's this one, son?" Mike asked, pointing at a sandwich.

"This has goat cheese, salad, and a drop of mustard with honey." The man in the white apron answered, and Mike and Caroline nodded. "Do you have any dietary requirements maybe? That might help you make the choice easier."

"Mike here has to watch out for sugar and cholesterol." Caroline said.

"Bah, I'm fine." Mike answered.

"Mike, the doctor said to watch out…! Micky, tell your Dad…!"

"Dad…" Mundy started.

"C'mon son, don't side with your mum! Men's solidarity!"

The baker smiled.

"I can recommend a classic French one, if you want a full French experience." He suggested.

"Sure!" Mike answered. "We haven't come all the way from home to stop at sugar and cholesterol!"

"In that case, I would suggest the classic jambon-beurre."

"John what?" Mike repeated.

"Jambon-beurre." The baker said. "Ham and butter. Now, I can make one with a light butter and lean ham for you."

"That sounds great, what d'you say Caroline?" Mike looked at his wife. "Can I get that?"

"My father himself used to have those when his diet became more strict." The baker explained.

"Oh that's very kind of you." Caroline said. "Sure, go for that. I will have the goat cheese and honey one, I never tried that combination of flavours."

"Very well."

Mundy had been watching the whole scene unravel before his eyes and was grinning. He was over the moon to see his parents so relaxed and enjoying their time. They had worked hard all their lives to provide for their only son and had rarely taken a holiday as significant as this.

"And you, Micky?"

"Huh?"

Caroline's voice had broken her son's daydream.

"Oh, uh, I'll get the ham and butter, the normal kind is fine for me."

"Very well, give me an instant." The baker gathered his ingredients and a bread knife. He prepared the sandwich in front of his hungry clients as they watched him.

Mundy found himself staring. The baker was a bit shorter than him by half a foot or so. He looked a bit older too. His temples were grey and his front tuft, which swung between his eyes as he cut the bread, was greying too. However, his eyes shone with a kind of vivacity, of life, that Mundy found made him younger than himself maybe. He had very light blue eyes with dark eyelashes - beautiful - a slightly hooked nose and thin lips. His hands were trained and used to his work as his efficiency showed, but Mundy guessed that he hadn't been a baker all his life. His fingers were too slim to have done manual work all their lives like his parents'.

"I guess you are visiting France for the first time?"

"Yeah, first time out of home since a long time, son." Mike answered.

"Where are you from, if I may?"

"Australia."

"Ooh, that is indeed a long way from home." The baker chuckled and Mundy saw a flash of his pearly white teeth.

"Yeah, the wife's always wanted to come and see it here, y'know, with it bein' the city of romance and all…" Mike explained and he held his wife's hand dearly.

"But of course." The baker placed the sandwiches on a tray. "Will that be all for you today?"

"Micky, ask your mum if we can get desserts."

"You could ask me directly." Caroline answered.

"Yeah but you'd say no to me, honey."

Caroline rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Fine, let us have a look at what you have, uh…?" Caroline adjusted her glasses, looking for a badge or anything to address the shop owner. His name was sewn on his apron, in black, cursive letters. "Lu…?"

"Lucien."

"Ooh, original name. Sounds very French, beautiful!" Caroline said.

"Thank you, Madame." Lucien bowed his head politely. "May I suggest the strawberry tart for Monsieur? It is mostly fruity and the dough has very little sugar. My most faithful customers do like it particularly."

"Yeah, looks very good." Mike said enthusiastically.

"I'll have one of these, uh…" Caroline pointed at the glass.

"Oh, éclair au chocolat. Do you know what éclair means in French?" Lucien asked.

"No?"

"It is a lightning bolt. As a child, my mother used to make me believe that they were called that way because of how fast I devoured them."

"Ooh, that is sweet…!"

Lucien put the mini tart and the éclair on the tray.

"And for you, Monsieur?" He turned to Mundy, who blushed under the piercing gaze.

"Oh, uh, I mean… Maybe one of these…?"

"Cannelé, they are called, because of their shape. They are typical from the South-West of France, where I come from. Have you ever tried them?"

"No, why?"

Lucien smiled.

"They are rarely a tourist's choice." He simply answered. "Here for you. I recommend enjoying those desserts with some coffee. Pray take a seat, I shall bring you your tray."

"Oh, thank you, dear." Caroline said and the Turner family sat around the table. Lucien closely followed. He added a jug of fresh water and glasses.

"Enjoy your meal, or as we say here, bon appétit." Lucien bowed his head and left his customers to enjoy their meal.

"Mum? Dad?" Mundy was holding the camera and took a picture when they both bit in their sandwiches. "There we go."

The Turners enjoyed their sandwiches and the fresh water. After all, it was summer and it was hot. Caroline reminded Mike to take his pills as usual and Mundy was sitting next to them. He loved his parents more than anything or anyone else and in truth, they were all he had. He had a few friends back in Oz, not a lot, but good ones.

"Son?" Mike's whisper pulled Mundy out of his daydream.

"Hm?"

"Can you please tell your mum to stop starin' at the baker like that."

"If I was a few decades younger…" Caroline whispered.

"Yeah, well, if you were a few decades younger, you'd remember that ring on your finger maybe, eh?" Mike teased.

"Mum, please… You're makin' it obvious…" Mundy nudged his mother's elbow gently.

Lucien was behind the counter, leaning on the wall on his side and reading a newspaper.

"C'mon, Micky, tell your Dad that he's handsome!" Caroline nudged her son back.

"Mum…!" He blushed.

"Yeah well, go and have sandwiches with him, then!" Mike answered.

"Oh I would!"

"Caroline!"

"Mike!"

"Mum, Dad, please…!"

"Nah, son, I've seen her stare at enough guys here. Since the moment we landed here and now, her eyes jumped from bloke to bloke like a bee from flower to flower!"

"Not my fault that they all look so charming! And I didn't say anything when you stared at that young sheila in the short skirt in the cathedral…!"

"Well…" Mike blushed, ashamed. "I'm a simple man…!"

"Besides, I'm not the only one who's starin', Mike."

"Hm?"

Caroline nodded in direction of Mundy, for whom the whispers of his parents had dissolved in the air. He had eyes and ears only for that baker. God, his mother was right, he was handsome!

Caroline was right on that people there in France were quite good looking and it made the journey all the more pleasant to the eye.

"Micky?" Mike's voice pulled Mundy out of his staring.

"Huh?"

"Well, I can't tell you to stop cause you got a ring on your finger but uh… make it a bit more, y'know, discreet…?"

Mundy blushed beyond his ears and lowered his head.

And that was the first encounter with Lucien, the baker. From that day on, the Turners would try to have their lunch there everyday. Caroline was the one to push for it. Not only did Lucien turn out to be an incredible guide for them, recommending good and inexpensive restaurants as well as little corners of paradise within Paris, but she could see the blush on Mundy's cheeks whenever Lucien talked to him.

In the evenings, Mundy would take a stroll outside, to give his parents some space. He would walk in the streets of the city, under the lamp posts, letting his feet decide where he should go. More often than once, he found himself not far from the bakery. On one occasion, Lucien was smoking outside of his bakery, as the sky was still bright. Mundy was paralysed with fear. He wasn't supposed to be standing there! He was supposed to be in his shop, and then Mundy could casually look through the window as he passed it, maybe even wave if he made eye contact with him. Yeah, that all made sense, but not Lucien being outside and-!

"Bonsoir, Mundy, wasn't it?"

[Good evening]

Mundy's blood froze. As he was panicking internally, his feet had continued walking until he was within a few feet from the baker.

"Y-yeah, hi."

"Do you smoke?" Lucien asked.

"Yeah, I mean, sometimes."

"Here." Lucien offered one of his cigarettes and Mundy accepted it.

"Thanks, mate."

"Come closer."

Mundy blushed when Lucien closed the gap between them and lit his cigarette up. He closed his eyes and all he could feel was the smell of the Frenchman's cologne, mixed with pastries and fresh bread.

Gosh… He thought as he felt his insides melt.

"Voilà." Lucien chimed as he put his lighter away. Mundy opened his eyes and he felt as if he had emerged from a dream to another one. Now, the ice blue eyes of the elegant man were on him.

"Y-yeah, thanks, heh."

"You like to walk at night?" Lucien asked as they both exhaled the bitter smoke.

"Yeah, it's nice and calm."

"And I guess it is your break from your photography duties?" The Frenchman chuckled.

"What?"

"You are the one carrying the camera all the time, and taking pictures of your parents. Do you have any of you?"

"Uh, yeah, we do have a few of all three of us together."

"I would be delighted to take more in my shop next time you have lunch here."

"Ah, thanks."

They stayed in front of the shop and smoked in silence, watching the few people in the streets come and go.

"Mundy?"

"Yeah?"

"I will soon close the shop. Would you like anything?"

"Oh, uh, no, I'm fine, thanks."

"Very well." Lucien put the cigarette between his lips and entered the bakery. Mundy wasn't sure he could or should follow him so he stayed on the threshold. He watched as Lucien disappeared through a door behind the counter. Soon after, the lights switched off in the shop and Lucien emerged. Mundy couldn't see him clearly in the dark but his silhouette stood out.

"Very well. This is it for today." He said as he came out and locked the shop. "I could do with some good coffee, would you like to join me, perhaps? I know a quiet café." Lucien turned to Mundy who was staring at him. "Mundy?".

He had never seen the baker outside of his natural habitat and a bit like a schoolboy who couldn't imagine his teacher living outside of school, Mundy was taken aback. It turned out that underneath the apron was a white polo shirt and now a beige linen jacket, with a matching hat and trousers.

"U-uh? Yeah? Sorry, you said somethin'?"

"You daydream a lot, hm?" Lucien chuckled.

"Sorry…" Mundy looked away and felt the heat of the embarrassment on his cheeks.

"It is alright, I do like to daydream too." He smiled as Mundy raised his eyes to him and the Aussie immediately averted his eyes. Oof, that grin…! "But you haven't answered my invitation."

"Y-your invitation?"

"Oui, coffee, with me?"

"You sure? I mean, I guess you're tired after work and maybe you want to go back home to your family or see your mates…?"

"I don't have one or the other." Mundy's eyebrows jumped. "You and your parents are the closest I have got to having friends for a long time. So, what do you say? Un café avec moi?"

[A coffee with me?]

"Oh, uh, alright. I mean uh, oui?"

Lucien smiled.

"Très bien, follow me."

[Very well]

The Frenchman led the way through the streets.

"So you left Maman and Papa at the hotel?"

"Uh, yeah. I try to give them some space. Mum's always dreamt to come here with Dad."

"Not with you?" Lucien asked.

"No, I didn't want it to sound so bad… I mean that she'd wanted to come here even before they found me."

"They… found you?" Lucien repeated as they took a turn.

"Oh Gosh, I can't keep my mouth shut…" Mundy mumbled to himself. "Sorry, mate, I-I meant… Ugh… Nevermind."

Lucien didn't insist.

"Here is the café." He pulled the front door and held it open for his tourist friend.

"Oh, thanks."

And it lasted for a couple of weeks, the nights out, sometimes in a café, sometimes just a tour of a neighbourhood with an incredibly patient and passionate guide.

"You like Paris quite a bit, eh?" Mundy asked under the dark blue sky lit by the Eiffel Tower. Lucien had taken him to the Champs de Mars, an open park just in front of the beautifully lit, iconic tower. They were both sitting on the grass.

"Believe it or not, I do not like it much."

"Really?"

"Oui."

"You know it well though, historical stuff and all."

There was a slight smile on the Frenchman's lips.

"Oui, unfortunately so, for some part of it. Non, what I have come to appreciate about this city recently is how you like it."

"What?" Mundy asked, embarrassed and confused. Lucien chuckled.

"You enjoy visiting Paris."

"Well, there's a lot of monuments to see, lots of history behind it, and it's a proper city. The Outback's very different."

"Tell me about it."

They exchanged a glance and Mundy's throat tightened. He could see all the lights on the Eiffel Tower shimmer on the Frenchman's eyes, like stars in a clear blue sky.

"Well… Uh…" Mundy looked left and right. "See everythin' around us?"

"Oui?"

"Imagine there's nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah, and imagine there's no grass but just orange dust."

"Hm…" Lucien looked keenly around him.

"Now add a few cacti, not too many, eh? And boulders. Just big rocks, basically."

"What shapes are they?"

"Any weird shape you can imagine. They're a bit like clouds, if you stare at them, you start seeing that they look like stuff but they don't really…"

"Oh… And what shapes have you seen?"

Mundy looked at Lucien sitting next to him. He had removed his hat and jacket. His polo shirt was white with dark blue stripes and he wore matching dark blue chinos trousers with beige loafers. Elegant, he was just so elegant…! What's more, he was lying on his side on the grass, resting part of his weight on his forearm, with one leg folded. Gosh…

"Uh… I usually see animals."

"What kind?"

"Sometimes, it's a gigantic wallaby, or a koala. But sometimes, it's stuff that doesn't even exist."

"Hm, like what?"

Like you, Mundy thought. No one had taken the time to go out with him, take the time to know him, go to cafés and odd little bistrots with him. No one had ever listened to his life in the Outback, no one had ever asked. And certainly, no one had done all that and looked half as gorgeous as Lucien. It was to the point where Mundy struggled to maintain eye contact with him for long. He would sometimes cross Lucien's eyes and avert his gaze the split second after. His feline, light blue irises were too much to take, especially because each time Lucien graced him with a gaze, Mundy could feel a punch to his guts and the blood rush to his cheeks.

"I-I don't know, it's a bit silly…" He answered, blushing and looking down between his crossed legs.

"Mundy…"

He froze when he felt a finger under his chin, pulling it up.

"Huh?"

"Please, tell me."

Gosh, not those eyes…! Oh and fuck it… Mundy couldn't refuse or ignore anything to those ice blue irises.

"Sometimes it's a mix of animals… Like something with the head of an owl, the body of a falcon, but legs like a wild cat. I know, it's ridiculous, ahem…"

"Non, not at all." Lucien answered and maybe it was all in Mundy's head, but he felt the Frenchman's index linger on his chin a bit before parting. The Aussie's jaw was electrified. "I find it poetic."

"D-do you?" Mundy's surprise was so obvious, so naive that it made Lucien grin sweetly. The Aussie uncrossed his legs and let them flow in front of him.

"Oui." Lucien laid down and rested his head on Mundy's thigh.

"Huh-?" Mundy gasped.

"Oh, am I weighing too much on you?"

"N-no, it's fine. I'm just-I'm just surprised, is all." The truth was that Mundy felt the heat in him surge as unexpectedly as Lucien lay on him. Was he just tired of holding his head on his palm? Was it friendly? Was it more? Was it a French thing?

"Hm. Look around you." Lucien said and Mundy did as he was told. It was the dead of night and not many people were out. "The city is almost empty. The Paris of the night is waking up and claiming the streets now."

"The Paris of the night?" Mundy repeated.

"Oui, people who shun the naked light of day because society shunned them first. Those are people whom morality and customs do not understand yet, people who are too free."

"What d'you mean?"

"Look at the pavement there." Lucien pointed and Mundy saw a few women wearing short skirts.

"Yeah?"

"Do you see these women?"

"Yeah."

"They are not women."

"What?"

"They are not women in what is most commonly accepted as the definition for it. They need the cover of the night to exist as they want to. I find it tragic yet strongly inspiring." Lucien went on. "They need the blanket of the dark night sky to wear the dresses, skirts and make-up that they want. We are not too different from them, you and me."

"How? You wanna wear a dress now?" Mundy joked and Lucien chuckled, his head still using the Aussie's thigh as a pillow.

"Non, we too are taking advantage of the night to be what the light of day prevents us from being."

Mundy's heart pounded in his chest. He was afraid he was understanding what Lucien meant, or maybe he wasn't at all and he was just hearing what the thin voice at the back of his head was whispering.

"Huh?"

"May I?"

Mundy sweated. Lucien had taken his fingers in his.

"Y-yeah, I think."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to force you - oh?" Lucien's eyebrows jumped and he then relaxed when Mundy pushed his trembling fingers shyly between his. Lucien held on to his hand dearly. "Mundy?"

"Mh?" The Aussie was screwing his eyes shut hard and was trying to calm his pounding heart and the rush of blood through his body.

"Merci."

[Thank you.]

His eyes snapped wide.

"What?"

"I said thank you."

"For what?"

"Everything."

And that night, they stayed on the Champs de Mars all the way up until the sun showed its first rays of light. At that point, they were both lying on their backs. The wide lawn was their mattress and the early hours of the new day captured the murmurs of what no one else but them should know.

It lasted for weeks, enough to make a habit out of it and to make Mundy think that it could last forever. Unfortunately enough, the holidays were coming to an end and Australia was calling the Turners back.

"You're not going out tonight? You should take a walk, Micky."

In their hotel room, Caroline and Mike were talking to Mundy.

"Your Mum's right, son. You could do with some fresh air."

"We spent our day outside. I'm tired."

Mike and Caroline exchanged a glance and went to the bathroom.

"I'm tellin' you, Mike, we have to push him out." She whispered to her husband. "He's as sad he could be."

"Yeah, I know, I know… But you're absolutely sure it will do him good?"

"Mike, I'm a sheila. We feel those things. Look at him…"

Caroline held the bathroom door ajar and Mike peeked through the slim opening.

"Doesn't he remind you of someone?" She asked.

"Hm. Yeah, course he does. Look at him lyin' on his bed, starin' at the ceiling. His body is here, his heart is elsewhere. He's exactly like me when I first met you, honey." Mike sighed. "Right, I'll get him out of this room. But you gotta help me."

"Ok, what's the plan?" Caroline asked excitedly.

"Follow me."

Mike took his wife by the hand and they exited the bathroom.

"Uh, Caroline, darl', d'you mind waitin' in the bathroom. This is guys' only talk."

"Fine."

Mike went to sit on Mundy's bed, next to him.

"Look, son. Uh… Your mum and I… Uh… We could do with a couple of hours alone if you… uh… If that's ok with you…?"

Mundy's eyes snapped wide and he sat up, looking his father in the eye and blushing. Mike was averting his gaze from his son, a bit ashamed.

"Oh…" Mundy answered. "Right, fine, I'll uh… I'll go have a walk. I'll be back in a couple hours then. Sorry."

"Good boy, no, no, don't apologise, it's fine." Mike said as Mundy put on his shoes and hat. "Take a bit of money with you and stay safe, eh?"

"Will do. Thanks, Dad."

"No, thank you, son."

Mundy exited the hotel and soon found himself in the streets. The sun was gently setting and the sky was orange with a few streaks of pink. The next day would again be very sunny.

Mundy didn't see it. His eyes were riveted on his shoes, his hands in his pockets, and his back hunched. He was in his own bubble and wanted to stay there, have some time alone to think.

About what? The obvious, of course. He was about to leave Paris, to leave France, to leave Europe, the Northern Hemisphere. He was about to leave Lucien and hadn't told him the dreadful news yet. Why? Because he didn't know how to tell him, especially now…!

Mundy sighed as he recalled the events of the previous night. They were on the quays of the Seine, the river that slithers through Paris.

"You can see almost everything from this river, eh?" Mundy realised.

"Oui, most monuments and important buildings you can see from here."

"Impressive… Oh…"

Lucien had slid his arm around Mundy's and his hand glided down until his fingers laced between the Aussie's. Mundy clenched his hand. He liked it way too much. Oh, hold on, maybe it was too much? He could feel his hand sweating…!

"S-sorry…" He pulled his hand off and wiped it nervously on his trousers.

"There is no problem." Lucien took Mundy's hand again. He pulled it up to his lips and kissed it.

"W-woah… Uhm…"

Lucien chuckled.

"You are such a delightful hint of the exotism I used to love…"

"What's that mean?"

They stopped walking along the river banks. Lucien went to the edge and looked at the streamflow for an instant. He removed his loafers elegantly and rolled his trousers' ends up along his calves. Mundy blushed. Contrary to him, Lucien didn't have a tan and being lighter in skin tone than him, he appeared almost snow white compared to Mundy. The Aussie watched as Lucien sat at the edge and let his feet dangle down. They were in the water up to his ankles. Mundy copied him and they were soon sitting side by side, their feet in the river.

Lucien leaned on Mundy's side and took his hand again. He held it dearly between both of his own.

"Mundy?"

"Yeah?"

"You are leaving a strong impression on me."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped.

"Y-you too." He removed his hat and leaned his head on Lucien's.

Silence fell for a while. It was soothing, hearing just the lapping sounds of the cool water licking their feet and their breaths.

"Lucien?"

"Oui?"

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"You just did, and yes you may."

"How come you uh… I mean I don't want it to sound bad but… How come you spend all your nights with me? I mean, don't you have anyone waitin' at home? Family, friends? Even the weekends you spend with me. Y'know, it's ok if you wanted to not see me for a few days, I'd understand."

"I have very few friends. To be truly honest, I have none. The only person waiting for me back home is Perle."

"Oh, who's that? Family?"

"Better than that, she is my cat."

"Oh, you have a kitty?"

"The best in the world."

"What does she look like?" Mundy asked.

"Look here, I have a photograph of her." Lucien took his wallet off of his inner pocket and retrieved a small rectangular picture. It wasn't much bigger than a stamp. He handed it to Mundy.

"Oh, woah… Expensive she must be, eh. Gorgeous, long, snow white fur and light eyes, like you almost - huh, I mean…"

"Oui, she has blue eyes." Lucien simply answered. "You wouldn't know on the black and white picture. And I had no idea she was expensive, even though she is priceless to me."

"You didn't buy her off a shop or someone?"

"Non, I rescued her when she was a kitten, cold, shivering and skinny. Poor baby, she barely had the strength to mewl."

"Oh, woah…" Mundy handed back the picture and as Lucien stored it safely in his wallet again, the Aussie was devouring him with his eyes.

"I raised her as best as I could and we understand each other pretty well. She is my little baby, or as I like to call her, mon petit bébé."

"Uh… I… I mean…" Gosh, words jangled and mixed in his head. He had found a man gorgeous as a God, patient with him, who respected his shyness, didn't take advantage of it, didn't force him to do anything and loved his cat?

"Oui?" Lucien raised his fair eyes to Mundy and that didn't help the Aussie at all. His thoughts were broken, everything broke under those eyes.

"Uh?"

Lucien chuckled.

"It is fine. You don't have to say anything." He leaned his head on Mundy's shoulder and held his hand. "What about you? Do you have any relatives besides your parents?"

"Uh, no. It's just them and me. I got a few uncles and aunts. See them for Christmas with my cousins and their kids. And for the pets, we got a few dogs to keep the beasts away from the hens and geese. Mum has a cat too, Percy, he's black and white, with green eyes."

"What kinds of dogs?"

"An Aussie shepherd and a border collie. Good girls they are. We had a few through the years but dogs don't live as long as we want them to, eh?"

"Indeed."

"How old is your cat? What's her name again?"

"Perle, or for you, Pearl. She is now seven years old."

"Oh, a big girl."

"A wise lady indeed. My only companion since… A long time."

"Fair enough. Haven't had anyone to talk to for years too. I mean, apart from my parents."

"You don't have friends in Australia?"

"I do, yeah, but… Uh… Not like you."

"Well I don't imagine you have bakers who have become part time tourist guides there, hm?" Lucien teased.

"Nah, that's true. But uh, yeah, I mean… We've talked about anythin' for the past few weeks, right?"

"Oh oui, from cacti, to desert, to wild animals, Australian beers, dishes, weather, slang…."

"Yeah, and now I feel like I know Paris almost better than where I come from!" Mundy chuckled.

They looked in each other's eyes.

"We indeed have had conversations about anything with baffling ease."

"Yeah…" Mundy confirmed.

"Merci. It had been ages since I last felt such a pleasant connection with someone."

"Same for me."

Lucien had looked up at Mundy and stared. The Aussie hadn't noticed that the Frenchman's pupils dilated as they sank from his lagoon blue eyes, down his long, straight nose, to his rough, thin lips. Mundy was lost in the ice blue irises and time had stopped. Lucien did half of the work and pulled his neck up. Mundy could smell his perfume and his cigarettes, maybe a lingering faint aroma of hot flour too. But the Aussie had been oblivious and didn't meet the Frenchman half-way.

It had been roughly twenty-fours hours after these events now, and Mundy couldn't have got any of it out of his head. He was stuck there and then, his hand between Lucien's, his head leaning on the Frenchman.

And he found it ridiculous! Dinners in little, hidden bistrots, holding hands on the banks of the river Seine, pulling an all-nighter on the grass under the Eiffel Tower… What the hell had he become?

If his parents knew of it, if his friends knew of it, what would they all think? A holiday romance, nothing much? Pfff…

What hurt Mundy wasn't any of that. It was the fact that he had grown attached to Lucien. For him, it wasn't just a holiday matter, he wanted it to be more. Why? Because where on Earth would he find someone that would treat him so well and with whom he felt that he could share his everything? He felt safe with Lucien. He felt safe in a way that the hunter never thought he would one day experience because what that meant is that he was much more insecure about himself than what he let on…

Most people he knew would describe him as a nice bloke if not very talkative. They assumed he was just like that. But now, Mundy realised that he was just… shy. Part of him even thought that he was afraid. Of what? Of people, constantly watching and judging him.

He didn't like people and preferred animals in that respect. Animals didn't care that you were still mostly living with your parents, driving your father's van around the desert. Animals didn't ask about his job only to fantasise about it, use him for the night and throw him away. Animals didn't think they couldn't build anything with him because of his almost nomad way of life. No, animals cared for him because he cared for them, end of story.

"Bonsoir, Mundy. You took your time tonight, I thought you wouldn't come."

[Good evening, Mundy.]

The voice with the French accent broke Mundy's train of thought abruptly and he winced. He looked down at his feet and gave them an angry glance.

Well thanks for that… He was thinking. While he had been pulling on the thread of his thoughts like a cat on a ball of yarn, his feet had guided Mundy to the bakery.

"Oh, uh, y-yeah, sorry…"

"Are you alright?" Lucien asked, as Mundy still hadn't made eye contact with him.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

The Frenchman could have smelt that it was a lie from a mile away. He nonetheless ignored it and they both walked together along the street.

"What would you like to do tonight?" He asked.

"Don't know. You choose."

"In that case, there is somewhere that we could try." Lucien took Mundy's hand and led the way. He had an idea to cheer up his more-than-friend.

The walk was silent as Lucien decided against insisting. Mundy seemed the type to like silence and solitude well, which the Frenchman respected. He too had his moments where he would rather be alone.

Soon enough, they entered a café. Lucien quickly found a table and they both sat down, opposite each other. A waiter soon came. The Frenchman placed their order while Mundy was still brooding, somewhere between his own mind and nowhere… The waiter placed two mugs on the table and disappeared again.

"Here." Lucien took Mundy's hand and pushed it to the mug gently.

"Huh?" When his fingers registered the heat from both Lucien's hand and the mug, Mundy's eyes snapped wide and he landed back on Earth.

"Drink this."

"What is it?"

"Can't you tell?"

Mundy's sense of smell woke up as he raised the mug closer to his lips.

"Hot chocolate?"

"Oui, but not any kind. Try it."

Mundy did as he was told and took a sip.

"Hm… Very soft but not too sweet."

"As my mother used to do to me whenever I felt low, as a child. I kept the habit of coming here and having one whenever I felt like nothing else could help."

"Mh."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to me about it, whatever it is?" Lucien asked after Mundy took another sip.

"I… I don't know…"

"Is it your parents? They seemed fine for lunch today."

"No, it's not them. It's me."

Lucien tilted his head on the side and his hand slid on the table until he cupped Mundy's, against the mug.

"Tell me, please."

Mundy sighed.

"I'll be goin' back to Oz. I-I'm gonna leave and… I… I kind of… I don't wanna." He mumbled, his eyes riveted on the hot chocolate. Lucien looked at him distraught.

"I see." He answered. "Do you really wish to stay here?"

"Y-yeah."

"You like Paris that much?"

Obviously, Mundy couldn't care less about the city. What counted was Lucien, and Lucien was staying there.

"Mundy…? Talk to me, please. I hate to see you distraught." Now, both of Lucien's hands were on Mundy's, wrapped around the warm mug.

"I don't wanna go, is all. It's childish and just plain ridiculous. But I wish I could stay and have… Have more tours of Paris.. With you."

Lucien's thumbs brushed Mundy's hands.

"I wish you could stay too, Mundy." Finally, the Aussie raised his head and met Lucien's sad eyes. "I have rarely felt the peace that I do with you. Your company is soothing for my now fragile nerves."

Mundy raised an eyebrow.

"What d'you mean?"

"There was a time where I was able to withstand a lot of pressure on my shoulders; the pressure of an entire country even. The moment it was gone, my body and mind collapsed. I didn't know anything anymore, even my own identity, what I was, who I was, was hard to grasp. It took years to come back from there. Years that I wouldn't have survived if not for Perle. I focused my time and energy on her. I devoted my attention to her and it distracted me from thinking too much about myself." He paused to catch his breath.

"Y-you got ill?" Lucien raised his eyes to Mundy.

"Oui, a kind of illness that no doctor knows exactly how to cure. A lot of soldiers go through it. They come back from the battlefields and they find it very hard to adjust back to civil life."

"You were a soldier?"

"Worse, but oui, I belonged to the army."

"How did you become a baker then? You were already one before you went to the army?" Mundy asked.

"Non, I was not. I had no skills besides those that I learnt in the army, or so few. You will mock me, but the idea came from Perle."

"Your kitty?"

Lucien nodded.

"One day I took her out to buy some bread with me. She was lying on my shoulders and when I was queueing to get my bread, she jumped out and into the back of the bakery." Lucien smiled as he remembered the events. "The baker let me through and we looked for her together. When we found her, she was asleep on a tray of still warm brioches."

"Aw, was that a long time ago?"

"She was somewhere between a kitten and an adult cat; a teenager, if you will."

"Ah, right. But how did you become a baker?"

"I apologised profusely to the baker and told him I would pay for all the damage and the pawprints… He told me he'd rather have someone to help him make all that again rather than take my money. So I offered my help. He taught me most of what I know now."

"Wow… Talk about finding work randomly, eh…"

"Oui, indeed. Since then, I have felt much better. Working put my attention and energy into something that brought smiles to the customers and apparently, to me too."

"So you got your own bakery goin'?"

"The previous owner of my bakery happens to be that man from the story. He was very old and decided to retire a few years later. He offered to let me buy the shop from him, which I did. I then changed the name to mine and redid some parts inside, the decoration mainly."

"Oh, I see… Wow… Great story you have."

"Merci." Lucien took a sip of his hot chocolate. "What about you? You said you were a hunter?"

"Yeah, but work is more and more rare now when you mainly do pest control and poacher scarin'."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't hunt beasts for trophies, fur or fun. I hunt and tranquilise whatever happens to be a bit too far from its natural habitat, load it on my van, and drive it back where it should be or in a reserve. As for the poachers, I scare them off of endangered species."

"So you don't kill animals?"

"Very rarely. Only for food when I'm out for days and far from home."

"Oh…" Lucien's eyebrows jumped. "I did not expect that. In fact, I didn't even know that this job existed."

"As far as I know, I'm the only one who doesn't actually kill the beasts. I get contracts that get me travellin' through the world quite a bit."

"Very exciting."

"Seein' the sights is nice, yeah. But uh, I miss my family quite fast and uh… It's not so much my family but… I feel a bit… Uh…"

"Lonely?"

Mundy nodded.

"Yeah…"

"I would recommend getting a cat," Lucien said. "But I am afraid that it doesn't completely fill the emptiness that you feel inside."

"I'd imagine so, yeah…"

Silence fell for a while as they both drank more of their hot chocolates.

"I would love you to stay, but your life, your family and your job are in Australia." Lucien said and his eyes met Mundy. They were both distraught and could hardly hide it.

"Yeah… And I don't know anythin' else but shooting a rifle." Mundy looked through the window. It was now properly dark outside and only the yellow lamps inside the old café provided them with some light.

"I am immensely grateful to you however."

"For what?"

"I wouldn't be able to put a name on it but you brought me some peace and you made me wake up in the morning with a new feeling; the eagerness of welcoming a new day that will for sure contain some spark of joy, namely, your presence, your… Hm, you."

Mundy blushed and turned as red as a brick.

"Y-you do the same. I mean, for me. I uh… I'm not just happy to visit the city with my parents. I'm uh… I'm happy in the evenings, with you."

They hadn't realised until then but they were holding hands on the table, the mugs had been pushed aside.

"I wish I could stay, I really do. But uh… Yeah, without a job or anythin', I can't."

"I understand and, for what it is worth, I would love for you to stay too." Lucien hesitated but thought that it might be his last evening with Mundy. He looked around and could see the few customers in the café were far from them. "And not just to help you visit the city."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped as Lucien had spoken quite low. The Frenchman was staring at him with a particular shine in his eyes. He slightly bent forward and Mundy mirrored him. Their faces were a few inches apart.

"L-Lucien, I'd uh… I'd better get back. We still gotta pack a few things before leavin' tomorrow."

Lucien's chest burnt. Hot lava was being poured on his heart.

"Before you go, may I tell you something?"

They were both whispering. Mundy nodded and Lucien gestured to him to get closer, which he did. The Frenchman wrapped a hand behind Mundy's neck and the Aussie froze rigid when he felt Lucien's breath on his ear.

"Je t'aime." He simply whispered and Mundy's entire being burst and melted when he felt Lucien's lips on his rough cheek.

[I love you.]

"U-uh…" The air was scarce in the room but it happened too fast and Mundy was left alone at the table. Lucien had dashed out faster than a shadow. "Fuck me…"

Soon, the surge of love was replaced by boiling rage and Mundy stormed out of the café, almost running back to the hotel. That night, he cried himself to sleep as silently as he could. He didn't want his parents to hear it.

The next morning, Mundy was woken up by his mother.

"Micky, sweetie? You've been sleepin' a long time, it's lunchtime now."

"Don't wanna eat." He rolled himself under the blanket and his parents exchanged a concerned look. "You can go if you want."

"Micky, you can't travel on an empty stomach, son." Mike's voice took the decision for everyone and Mundy sighed before getting out of bed and dressed up.

They arranged for their luggage to be transferred to the airport while they went to have lunch. Obviously, they ended up in Lucien's bakery.

"Bonjour, Lucien!" Mike tried his best.

"Bonjour, Mike. What will it be today?"

"Hold your horses, son, I've gotta see with the wife if I can get dessert first…!"

"Mike, you know the answer to that…"

"Lucien," Mike turned to the baker. "You married, by any chance?"

Lucien shook his head.

"Non, I nearly did but it did not happen."

"Well, before you get married, ask them if you can get dessert for the rest of your life."

"Mike…! You know why you have to be careful, the doctor said so, now be reasonable, dear." Caroline tried.

"And only get a ring on your finger if they say that yes, you can get dessert until your very last breath!"

Lucien smiled, albeit sadly. After that, the Turner family placed their order and soon enough, their sandwiches and salads appeared on the table.

"Lucien, excuse me, dear?" Caroline called and Lucien came to her.

"Oui, Madame?"

"I saw the poster on your front door. You're looking to hire?"

"Oui, indeed. I think this is the end of a chapter for me. Time maybe to do something else."

"Oh, that's a shame. You're very good at what you do!"

"Yeah, your sandwiches are amazin'." Mike added.

"Thank you very much."

"Did you receive applications?" Caroline asked.

"I am afraid not, but I have only put that poster up this morning."

"What kind of people're you lookin' for?" Mike asked.

"Anyone, from inexperienced to confirmed bakers. In fact, I learnt this trade as a beginner and I would like to pass on my knowledge and techniques to someone else. But don't let me bother you. Enjoy your lunch."

He bowed and returned behind his counter. Mundy hadn't listened to any of it. He couldn't even raise his eyes off of his shoes, especially not to see Lucien. It hurt too much.

"Micky?"

"Mh."

"Micky, you want to eat before we go, dear." Caroline said and her son sighed before taking a bite. He chewed slowly and looked away from anyone else.

"Don't like your sandwich, son?"

Mundy didn't answer and didn't see Caroline and Mike exchanging a glance.

"You can try another one, eh."

Still no answer from the heartbroken Aussie. It was a torture. Eating a sandwich made by the hand of a man he had cried for, hands that he had spent the past few weeks holding fondly even if he had never initiated it. Gosh, now he regretted it, he should have done something, anything…! But he wasn't ready, he never was, he had never been prepared for it! In more than three decades of existence, who the hell would come to him and teach him?

"Mike, Madame Caroline?" Lucien had come to the table.

"Yeah?"

"I have a… an unusual request, if I may."

"Go ahead, son." Mike wiped his mouth and frowned to listen better.

"It is actually for Mundy." Lucien said and Mundy frowned too but his eyes were still low. "If you would rather make your own sandwich, you may help yourself to the fridge and the breads that I have."

Mundy didn't flinch.

"If you want… You can… Make not only your sandwich, but… other sandwiches."

"Oh, you mean to take away? Ouch!" Mike asked and received an elbow to his ribs from Caroline who glared at him.

"That is lovely of you, Lucien. Yes, I think he would love doing that, if that is ok with you?"

"It is the least I can offer, Madame."

"Oh, you really don't have to…!"

"Allow me to insist. You have been lovely customers throughout all these weeks."

"And you have been a lovely guide! So, Micky, what do you say?" Caroline asked her son and he sighed.

"Don't know." He mumbled.

"C'mon sweetie, go and make your own sandwich. And make a couple of extra ones for your Dad and I, for the road."

"Mum…" Mundy hid his face in his hands.

"Micky, you don't want to be impolite to Lucien." She insisted.

"Hm…" He grumbled and pushed his chair back before standing up, not seeing his mother whispering something to his father.

"Here, wear this. It would be a shame to have flour on your polo shirt." Lucien handed him an apron. Mundy took it and put it on without looking at it. This whole show hurt and was preposterous… "Now let me show you around the house, pray follow me."

Mundy dragged his feet on the floor and followed Lucien behind the counter.

"What sandwiches would you and Mike like, Madame Caroline?" Lucien asked.

"If you have that ham and butter, what d'you call it again, Lucien?" She answered.

"Jambon-beurre, Madame." He answered. "Mundy, please take one of those in front of you? Thank you, now, follow me to the fridge. Here is the light butter and the lean ham. I keep them on this side to not get them confused with their regular counterparts. Now, you will do your father's sandwich. Here, chopping board, a fresh baguette and a knife. Go ahead."

"L-Lucien…" Mundy sighed in front of the ingredients. "I can't."

Caroline stood up and went to the counter with Mike, customer side, while Mundy and Lucien were on the other side.

"C'mon, son, your first sandwich here, Micky! Caroline, get the camera!" Mike encouraged him.

"And we get to see you make it!" Caroline added enthusiastically and readied herself to take a picture.

"Wh-what?" Mundy asked, confused that his parents were that thrilled for… him making a couple of sandwiches.

"C'mon, cut the bread, Micky, chop, chop!" Mike said and Mundy got to work, missing the point entirely. He made the sandwich for his father and added his mother's to the plastic bag.

"I won't take one for myself." Mundy said and started undoing the apron.

"Of course not, son!" Mike answered with a chuckle and Mundy's confusion just jumped a notch.

"And what are you doing, Micky? Keep the apron!" Caroline laughed.

"What? I'm not gonna travel with that!" Mundy answered.

"Of course not!" She answered.

"What the hell's been going on? Look, this is just - it's just…!" Mundy covered his face with his hands to hide his shame. At that point he thought it was a nightmare and he would wake up.

"Ooh, we're sorry, sweetie…" Caroline hugged him. "We didn't want to upset you."

"But why…?"

"Micky, look at your apron, son." Mike said.

"Dad, look, I'm just tired. Let's go back home." Beyond the distress of leaving Lucien, Mundy felt embarrassed, ashamed to have been put on the spot with the apron, the sandwich making… What was that all about…?

"S'il te plaît, Mundy."

[Please, Mundy.]

Caroline and Mike stepped back to let Lucien get closer to Mundy. The Aussie turned his face away. He couldn't take any of it anymore.

"Mundy…?"

"Take it back and leave me alone." Mundy removed the apron completely and pushed it against Lucien's chest.

"On one condition, you look here."

Mundy sighed but obeyed. Lucien held the apron between his hands.

"What do you read here?"

The apron was white with something sewn on it. Mundy squinted. His shoulders and jaw dropped when he read the word.

Mundy

It was sewn in cursive letters. Mundy looked at Lucien's apron. His name was sewn in the same style.

"What? What's that mean?"

"It means, and forgive me for repeating myself, that I am offering you a job here." Lucien answered.

"What?! I know nothing of bread!"

"I will teach you, you will see, it isn't hard at all."

"But why? I gotta go back home…" Mundy turned to his parents.

"Micky, you can stay longer if you want." Mike said.

"Yeah, it's fine, you're a big boy and you've stayed with us long enough. Maybe this is your chance?" Caroline added and Mundy's eyes lit up with joy and excitement.

"Really?" His voice broke under the emotion he was trying to prudely contain.

"Of course!" Caroline answered. She went to the tip of her toes to put a hand on Mundy’s rough, slender cheek. "Look, for the past few weeks, we realised with your Dad that we hadn't seen you that happy in years. Each night, when you come back from your walks, you smile and even when you sleep, the smile stays on…!"

"Your Mum's right, son. If you're happy here with Lucien, then stay, at least a bit more. And it's not like you were exactly earnin' a decent wage out of a few hunting contracts, eh? Folks will find other people to deal with their beasts. You deal with you, ok?"

"Oh my God…" Mundy's tears came to his eyes faster than he could control. "Gosh…!" He hid his face and his shame with his hands.

"Aw, baby Micky…!" Caroline went to the tip of her toes to hug him and Mike tapped him on the back.

"It's alright, son, it's alright."

"But, you sure, though?" Mundy withdrew from the hug and looked his parents in the eye.

"Of course! We'll make it back home and give you a call when we get there." Caroline said, pinching his cheek gently.

"Yeah, of course!" Mike added. "Now, c'mere son." Father and son exchanged a long hug. "You make your parents proud, yeah?"

"Yeah, Dad, don't worry."

"And you be a good boy, eh?" Caroline added.

"Yes, Mum, I will."

"You look out for each other, alright boys?" Mike looked at Lucien.

"We will, Mike." The Frenchman answered. "But Mundy…?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you accept my offer?" Lucien held the apron up.

Mundy looked at his parents who nodded, then back at Lucien.

"Yeah… Please."

"Fine." Lucien got closer and put the apron on Mundy. He then tied it for him as the Aussie's eyes were riveted on his parents. Caroline was leaning on her husband's side and both wore a proud smile. Mundy hadn't seen his parents smile like that for a long, long time. "There, you are ready."

"Thanks, Lucien." They exchanged a tender gaze and didn't see Caroline's eyes light up.

"Right, boys, I think we should be on our way." Mike said.

"But of course." Lucien answered. "Here, your sandwiches for the road."

"Mum, you call me as soon as you can, ok?" Mundy said, as they all went to the front door.

"Yes, dear, don't worry."

They were now standing outside of the bakery under the beautiful and powerful summer sun.

"You call us sometimes, Micky, eh?" Mike said.

"Sure, I will."

Hugs and kisses were exchanged.

"And you, you take care of our son, alright?" Mike was shaking Lucien's hand and patted his shoulder. After that, he waved for a taxi to stop.

"I will think of him before I think of myself." Lucien answered while giving a nod.

"And Micky, you take care of Lucien too, eh?" Caroline said as she winked, making her son blush beyond his ears.

"Y-yeah Mum, will do…"

"Bye, son."

"Bye guys, careful on your way back, eh?" Mundy answered.

"We will, don't worry."

And on that, they all waved at each other as Mike and Caroline slipped in the taxi and they went their way. Lucien and Mundy stayed for a while, even after the taxi disappeared. The Aussie was out of breath, everything had happened quite fast.

“I’ll miss them.” He said.

“I will miss them too. You are lucky to have very supportive parents, Mundy.”

“Yeah… But I’m glad to stay here.”

"So…" Lucien said as both him and Mundy entered the shop again.

"Yeah?"

"Ready to learn the fine art of bread and pastry making?"

"I guess… I mean, I didn't really think it through, eh." Mundy chuckled and looked at Lucien. "But with you, anythin'."

The Frenchman smiled.

"First lesson: follow me."

They went back behind the counter and Lucien even invited Mundy in the hidden workshop, behind a wooden door. There were tables lined up in the room, fridges on one wall and ovens in the other.

"Woah… It smells incredible in here…!" Mundy said as he was hit by a wave of hot flour.

"Indeed. You will see, you will never get tired of that incomparable smell. Hot flour and sometimes, hints of sugar."

"Yeah…” Mundy inhaled deeply and when he exhaled, his eyes were half closed. That place was heaven... “Right, so what's first?"

Lucien shut the door and looked up at Mundy.

"First, I have to ask you, are you sure you want to stay with me? We can still call a taxi for you and you can join your parents."

Lucien's light blue eyes raised up to Mundy were a sight to behold for the shy Aussie.

"Y-yeah."

"Yes, what? Shall we call a taxi or…?"

"No. I wanna… Try, with you."

Lucien's smile made all his face beam up poetically. He closed the gap between Mundy and himself and hugged the taller man.

"Thank you so much." Both closed their eyes and held dearly to each other. “Thank you so much for trusting me and for believing that this is all worthwhile. I do appreciate that you are leaving everything behind just for me and… I am beyond grateful.”

Mundy bent down to put his lips next to Lucien's ear.

"Lucien?" He whispered.

"Oui?"

"I think I… I love you too." Mundy screwed his eyes shut and buried his head deep in the crook of Lucien's neck, holding Lucien not like a friend, but like the salvation he felt God sent to him through that man.

"Mundy…?"

"Yeah?"

"Look at me."

Mundy did as he was told and Lucien wrapped his arms around the Aussie's neck.

"O-oh… Right… Y-yeah?"

Lucien smiled before his eyelashes bowed down as he slowly closed his eyes. He pushed himself to the tip of his toes and did what he had dreamt of doing.

Mundy's eyes rolled up in bliss and if he froze for a second, the kiss made him soon melt such that he bent down and pulled Lucien from his back and his hip, to feel more of him against himself. He yielded to the passion of the moment, he let everything explode in him, the yearning, the longing...

It lasted for a few seconds that they both wanted to extend, but the call for air was stronger. When they broke the kiss, they stayed with their foreheads against each other.

Neither knew what to say first, to exit that moment.

"Hold on…" Mundy eventually said.

"Oui? Something is the matter?" Lucien asked.

"No but… You had an apron with my name all along?"

"Non," Lucien chuckled. "When I came back yesterday night, I spent some time thinking and smoking. I couldn't help but repeat the discussion we had in the café on loop in my head. And then I remembered what you said, that you wouldn't be able to stay without a job. That was when I got the idea to hire you."

"Oh, woah…"

"So I woke up this morning, my mind set as hard as stone. I thought that I would ask in front of your parents."

"How did you know they'd accept?"

"I think your mother felt it, for a long time."

"She felt what?"

"Mundy, she is a woman, and your mother, she feels those things. Besides, each time you have lunch here you stare at me with such insistence…!"

"What?! No, I don't!" Mundy protested and his cheeks turned red.

"Yes, you do, mon amour, and don't blush so much…" Lucien chuckled and tapped the tip of Mundy's nose.

"Did you just call me-?"

"My love, oui. Now, let us go to work - oh?!" Lucien's sentence was interrupted by an intense - if slightly awkward - kiss. Mundy held him dearly, almost clawed in his sides and Lucien smiled.

"That is quite unprofessional, hm?" The Frenchman teased.

"Well, you started it, eh?"

"Non, I did not kiss my employer."

"You kissed your employee, that's worse."

"Non, you are not my employee yet."

"What?"

"You are my apprentice…"

"Right, fair enough. What's that make you then?" Mundy asked.

"... And my lover."

"Oh, right, ok, uhm… I-I mean…"

"And very shy."

"Well…"

They spent the beginning of that afternoon in the workshop dealing with bread and pastries as they teased each other. When the time came to close the shop and go back home, Mundy's eyebrows jumped.

"H-hold on." He said on the pavement with Lucien.

"Oui?"

"I… I don't have a home here… I could probably be able to pay a couple more nights at the hotel but…"

Lucien's chuckle cut Mundy's sentence.

"Why're you laughin'? I'm telling you I'm homeless…!"

"Don't be silly, Mundy. Come." Lucien took his hand and led the way.

"Right… I s'ppose you can walk me back to the hotel…"

"Non, I will not and I am not."

"Where are we goin' then?"

"Home."

Mundy frowned in confusion but decided to wait and see. Meanwhile, he held Lucien's hand dearly in his own. A few minutes later, Lucien stopped and got some keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the door and flipped a switch.

"Meow…!"

A white cloud brushed the floor and jumped in Lucien's arms.

"Oui, mon bébé, bonsoir, Papa est rentré…"

[Yes, my baby, good evening to you too, Papa has come home…]

He kissed her countless times and carried her in his arms indeed like a baby.

"Mundy, this is Perle. Perle, this is Mundy."

"Oh, yeah, your kitty…! Hello there, pretty lady…" Mundy scratched her cheeks and jaw, and soon both Lucien and him heard her pur.

"She likes you already." Lucien said.

"I'm good with animals usually, yeah… Hold on, what d'you mean 'already'?"

"Perle," Lucien said to his cat. "Mundy here is more than just a man who knows how to scratch you perfectly."

"Meow?"

"Oui, he is Papa's very good friend."

"Meow…?"

"Fine, oui, he is Papa's… Second half."

"Meow!"

"Don't worry, you are still my baby, but now, you are our baby, because Mundy here" Lucien raised his eyes to his lover. "Mundy here will live with us."

"Wh-...? Wait, are you serious?" Mundy asked in shock at the door's threshold. Lucien pulled him in and closed the door after him.

"I am. Now, make yourself at home, and give me an instant, someone has to feed this snow white baby."

"Meow!"

Lucien went to the kitchen as Mundy opened wide eyes and observed every little thing in the room. The paintings, most of them abstract, the furniture, the brown leather sofa, the persian style carpet in front of it, on which was the coffee table. There was a fireplace too and on the mantelpiece, pictures. They were all about Perle, the white kitten who grew to a majestic, fluffy creature with mesmerising blue eyes, a bit like her master.

"One last thing Mundy…!" Lucien said from the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"I have only one double bed!"

Mundy blushed and smiled.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #dontneedavalentine2021

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chocoluckchipz · 5 years ago

Text

The Other You - 16

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

< Previous

Chat raced across the rooftops, one thought hammering in his mind— how did this happen? How could he tell Marinette what he was hiding from the whole world? Hawkmoth for a father. He was barely starting to come to terms with that himself. He never wanted anyone to know. Only Ladybug was bound to find out eventually, and only because he had to return the peacock and butterfly miraculouses to her. Otherwise, Adrien would’ve taken that secret to his grave. How he could let slip to one of the most amazing people he knew that he had the most sought-after villain in the history of Paris, if not France, for a father was beyond him. How was he supposed to tell that to Ladybug also?

How?

He couldn’t. Not yet. He’d tell her eventually. But not now. He wasn’t ready yet.

Chat jumped and caught hold of a beam, starting his ascent up the Eiffel Tower.

Marinette, though, didn’t seem to hate him for his unfortunate family connections. A sigh of relief slipped his lips because being hated by Marinette for his own faults was hard enough. He wasn’t sure he could handle her hatred for something that he had absolutely no control over. Because Marinette was amazing—the greatest friend one could wish for, and the strongest person he’d ever met.

She was the only one, as far as he knew, who had managed to work for his father for years and not fully succumb to his destructive ways. She was close. Dangerously deep in that abyss, but she survived. Snapping out of it just in time, Marinette came back stronger than ever—something Adrien had an honour of witnessing with his own eyes in the last few weeks as Chat Noir, ‘Felix’, and as Adrien. She was truly an inspiration, so maybe he should take her advice and tell Ladybug everything? Marinette thought it was for the best, and Chat trusted Marinette.

“Hey there, Chaton.” Ladybug landed beside him at the top of the Eiffel Tower. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Been busy?”

“Kind of. How have you been?”

She walked to him and, without explanation, wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head onto his chest. “Lonely, but it’s alright now.”

Startled, Chat hesitated for a little before returning her embrace. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to come more often. Life’s been kind of crazy as of late.”

Ladybug pulled away, rolling her eyes as she chuckled. “Tell me about it. But then when have our lives ever not been crazy?”

“True.” He grabbed his baton from behind his back. “Shall we start our patrol?”

Ladybug nodded, preparing her yo-yo. “I’ll take the west side, you round the east. If something happens, ring me up. Otherwise, I’ll see you here in half an hour?”

“I’ll stop by Tom and Sabine’s for some pastries if you give me five more minutes.”

“Oh! Haven’t had them in a while. You’ve got a deal.”

They charged forward, each taking their respective routes. Adrien zoomed through the city, not even bothering to look around much. Instead, he ran. Ran as fast as he could, reaching for the courage that was slipping through his fingers with every passing moment. Marinette thought it’d be for the best to tell Ladybug. He trusted Marinette. He had to. She was the only thing that kept him from completely crumbling when he’d just found out and since. He owed her that much.

Predictably, no akumas were found, and soon Chat was walking into a familiar bakery, flashing his best smile to its owner. Tom greeted him with a grin of his own, immediately packing a box full of treats Chat often ordered.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Chat Noir.”

“Life kept my hero persona away,” he said, winking. “Doesn’t mean I wasn’t here as my civilian self.”

“Oh, were you?” Tom laughed. “You know, I might try to figure you out one of these days.”

“What for?”

“How does ‘trying to sell you something you can’t buy as a superhero’ sound?”

Chat grinned. He loved to banter with this man. “I’m all ears. You might just convince me to drop a hint or two if the offer is tempting.”

“I’ve got an unmarried daughter. Beautiful. Strong and independent. An amazing cook. Would you be interested?”

Chat blinked, his grin frozen on his face. “Does this daughter of yours know you want to sell her off to me?”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t object.”

Chat quirked an eyebrow. “If Marinette is still anything like I remember her, I’m pretty sure she’d kick both of our asses if I were to agree to take her off your hands behind her back.”

Tom laughed. “That she would. But hey, what else am I supposed to do? She keeps telling me she’s too busy to date and I’m not getting any younger. I want to see her happy before I kick the bucket. Not to mention I’d love to see my grandkids before then too.”

“Then let her be.” Chat chuckled. “I’m sure she’ll find the right person when the time is right.”

Tom pursed his lips. “So that’s a no?”

Chat gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but this cat’s allegiance lies somewhere else.”

“Oh well. It was worth a try. If you change your mind, though, I can arrange it for you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The pastry box in his hands, Chat headed back to the Eiffel Tower.

He arrived first. Feeling restless, he set the pastry box on the beam and paced the perimeter. She’d be here soon, and he’d have to tell her. Everything. Just like Marinette had told him. About his love for her, about Hawkmoth, and possibly his own identity. There was also the matter of Nooroo and Duusu and the fact that Adrien wanted to keep the butterfly miraculous for another two weeks. Maybe even a few more days after that because Marinette would surely need help from ‘Felix’ during the Fashion Week.

A rumble of thunder split the night sky, lightning illuminating the darkness somewhere in the distance. Chat stopped and leaned on a beam, slightly dizzy. Crossing his arms, he considered his approach. He should probably start with his love confession, something he had experience with and the highest chance of succeeding in. His last attempt was years ago, and Chat was certain that things had changed between them since then. He had done everything Ladybug asked of him. He had given her space and time, respected her boundaries, never going beyond friendly or what she initiated herself. He never pushed, never insisted, never confessed again for years. As a result, Ladybug was more and more accepting of his attention. He sensed it for some time now—they were closer than ever before. So, he should start with a love confession and move on from that.

“You’re fast,” Ladybug said, appearing in front of him out of nowhere. “I thought I’d be waiting for you, not the other way around.”

“I came back just a few minutes ago,” he said, picking up the box and opening it for her. “Ladies first.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Ladybug took a macaron and sat on the beam, dangling her legs over the edge. “So what’s up with you, Chaton? Anything interesting?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “No, nothing out of the ordinary. The east side is quiet.”

“I meant your life,” Ladybug said, munching on her treat. “You said you were busy, so I was wondering what was going on with you in your civilian life.”

Chat hummed, settling down beside her, perhaps for the first time being very aware of the height they were at. He swallowed, echoing her question. “My life? Nothing special. Demanding job. Lots of work. Boring.”

She seemed to be waiting for him to continue, but Chat hesitated. The moment didn’t feel right yet. He couldn’t confess with his stomach churning and his throat so dry he’d drink an ocean if given the chance. A bit later. A few more minutes. His gaze darting from place to place, he clutched his hands together in his lap and asked instead, “And you? How have you been?”

Her head cocked to the side, Ladybug watched him with a smile. “I’ve been well. Almost done with my project thanks to my assistant. We’re actually ahead of the deadline, so I’m excited.”

“That’s nice.”

“It is.”

“Want another macaron? Tom gave me a few of their seasonal ones. Said they were to die for.”

“Why not?” She took another treat from the box Chat was holding out to her and bit in, closing her eyes. “My favourite. I’ve missed these.”

Lightning flashed across the darkness, followed closely by a roar of thunder. Adrien bit at his lower lip. It’s going to rain soon. He’d better hurry up with his confessions because—

“Hey, Chat?” Ladybug asked before he braved opening his mouth. “Have you ever been in love?”

He stared at her, gaping like a fish. Could Ladybug read his mind?

“You know. Have you ever felt like you could spend hours, days and even months with a person and never get bored?”

He couldn’t help a smile. Of course, but it didn’t necessarily mean he was in love with the person. Marinette, for example. These days, he was spending practically all of his time with her and it had never been boring. In fact, he wouldn’t complain if their dinners were a bit longer than they were, so much fun they had together. But he wasn’t in love with Marinette. She was just a friend.

“Have you ever longed to see someone so much you counted the minutes until your meeting?”

Um. Yes? Marinette, for example. But only because she was an amazing cook and he loved food.

“Have you ever felt so comfortable around a person you could tell them all of your secrets and know they would understand and accept and wouldn’t judge you, helping you out instead?”

Chat swallowed. Yes… Marinette. His eyes widened. Was this the reason he so easily blurted out one of his biggest secrets to her just now? Because in the last few months he had gotten to know Marinette all over again, and if she was amazing before, having gone through all the things she had been through, Marinette had grown into the most fantastic woman ever now. He’d seen the change for himself and, despite their complicated history, Chat trusted her more than ever. Being in her presence alone was wonderful. She made him feel safe, loved, and accepted. Was that why he didn’t keep his mouth shut? Because in his heart he knew she’d understand and wouldn’t judge.

“Have you ever looked at that person and couldn’t stop smiling because of how beautiful they are inside and out?”

Chat gulped, his chest tightening. Marinette was always beautiful. Now though, as the exhaustion that branded her just a few months ago was gone, she was clearly mind-blowingly gorgeous. As for inside… His smile turned sheepish. Marinette was warmth and beauty. Marinette was his home. He dared to say her soul was much more beautiful than her outward appearance.

His eyes blew wide. Was… was he in love with Marinette? Chat stilled, his breathing picking up.

No!

He loved Ladybug. He always had. He couldn’t have fallen for someone else.

“And given the chance to be with anyone at any given moment, is there a person who instantly comes to your mind?”

Chat stilled, terrified to answer that question even to himself because it wasn’t his Lady’s name that just zoomed through his thoughts. Chat shook his head.

No!

It had to be a mistake. It was probably the food! Not Marinette. And it was probably the remnants of being an akuma and his obsession with helping Marinette. He had to account for that because there was no way there were no side-effects from daily self-akumatization. And it was probably only because Marinette already knew his secret, thus there was fear associated with telling Ladybug. It was just bad timing.

Nothing more.

Ladybug turned to face him, a gentle smile on her lips as she took his hand in hers. “For me, it’s you, Chaton. I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time and I don’t want to hold back anymore.”

Chat froze, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. Not because of the happiness he always imagined he’d feel when Ladybug finally fell in love with him. No! Chat stood paralyzed because he couldn’t say ‘I love you’ back, not after everything that just went through his head. Not when he was still full of guilt for keeping secrets from her. Not when she didn’t know that he was born to their enemy.

Not now!

His words gone, lips slightly ajar as awkwardness and fear constricted his throat, Chat stared at Ladybug in silence.

“Chaton?” She reached forward to cup his jaw with her hand. “Is everything alright?”

He sighed, closing his eyes at her touch. Clenching his teeth, Chat covered her hand with his and whispered: “I’m sorry. I… I can’t… Not right now.”

He could feel every muscle in Ladybug’s body tense. Reaching forward, she cradled his face with both her hands and lifted it up to look him in the eyes. “Chaton? What’s wrong? I thought… I thought you wanted this. I thought you loved me.”

“I do love you,” he rushed to assure her. “You’re my best friend, the one person I trust with my life. I do love you, Ladybug, but… I’m just not sure if… if I’m still in love with you anymore. Ugh! This is so confusing.” Groaning, he hid his face in his hands and stilled, murmuring a moment later. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course you can.” She took his hands from his face, holding them tight as they fell into his lap. “Whatever it is, I want to know it.”

He gulped, shifting his gaze to the side. “I’ve loved you for years, my Lady. Ever since the day we met, you were the one to hold my heart, and if asked a month ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to confess my love for you on the spot. But… there’s this girl, an old friend of mine I’ve recently reconnected with.” Her hands twitched in his, yet she didn’t let go. “Just now when you were asking me those questions, it was her name that kept popping up in my thoughts. Not yours.” He raised his eyes full of apology to her. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why this happened but I need to figure it out before I can respond to your confession. It might be just a fleeting infatuation. It might be something more, but until I know for sure, I don’t think it would be fair of me to give you an answer.” Lightly squeezing her hands in his, Chat pleaded. “Please, don’t hate me. I don’t know how this happened and I’m so, so sorry about this.”

For what felt like the longest while, Ladybug silently stared at him. Her eyes reflected the Paris lights as thunder sounded once more. He could see tears gathering in them. It broke his heart, but what could he do? He was already lying to her about Hawkmoth; he couldn’t lie about this as well.

Pulling her into a hug, Chat murmured once again. “I’m sorry.”

She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. “Does she make you happy?”

Chat didn’t even have to imagine. Warmth and peace flooded his whole being at the mere thought of Marinette. Not being able to give her the answer out loud, he hummed.

Her arms around him tightened. “Then that’s all that matters. I just want you to be happy.”

The first drops of rain hit them, bouncing off their suits and skin. Adrien looked up at the sky. “Do you want to hide somewhere?”

“I’d better go,” she whispered and pulled away, her eyes full of the tears she was holding back.

“Ladybug…”

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, standing up. “I just need some time alone but thank you for being honest. I do appreciate it.”

“Are you sure?” He stood up as well.

“We’re still friends, right?”

“Of course. Your friendship is the most important thing in my life.”

“Then I’ll be fine, Chaton. Take care of yourself. I’ll see you around.” With those words, Ladybug was gone, zooming into the darkness of the city below them.

Chat watched her depart in silence. His head hung low, shoulders slumped, he cursed under his breath. This was supposed to be his turn for the better. They were supposed to leave this place happy. Why did he have to always ruin everything? Why did he have to always break something? First, it was Marinette’s heart all those years ago. Then, all of his friendships. And now, he’d pushed away the only person who was always there for him. He really was a wielder of destruction, a vessel of chaos wherever he went.

Chat closed his eyes as a realization dawned on him. Marinette… They’d been doing so well rekindling their friendship, but it was only a matter of time before he ruined everything again. He couldn't let the history repeat itself. He had to stay away from her—for her sake. ‘Felix’ would disappear after Fashion Week. Adrien Agreste would go back to being a teacher in September. Chat Noir would have to stop coming over immediately, though.

They would need to come up with some other kind of rent fee if Marinette insisted on it. It didn’t really matter to him. For all he cared, she could live there her whole life for free. He’d miss their times together. Not just the food, but all the fun they shared. With Chat Noir, Marinette was her most relaxed self and he loved it.

He loved her.

Now that he’d realized it, he couldn’t deny it anymore—he was in love with Marinette, and for her sake, he’d have to let her go.

His heart clenched, tears spilling over as rain continued to soak him. He should probably warn her. Knowing Marinette, she’d be worried and looking for him, and he didn’t want to cause her more trouble. He’d have to think up some kind of excuse to justify him never coming back. That shouldn’t be too hard, but he better do it before he’d change his mind.

Meaning he better do it now.

Chat wiped his tears, his decision cementing in his mind. It wasn’t too late into the night yet; Marinette should still be awake right now. At least he could check if she was. Reaching for his baton, Chat pushed the knot in his throat down.

He had to do it.

It would be for the best.

For everyone.

Especially for Marinette.

She wasn’t home.

At first, Chat thought Marinette had gone to bed already, but the light in her bedroom was on, and he could see through the window that she wasn’t there. Nor was she anywhere else in the apartment. Assuming that she must have gone for a run or to a nearby grocery shop, Chat scouted the neighbourhood for some time before giving up. It was raining and late. Not many people were out. She must have gone back to the apartment already, or she could be waiting out the storm somewhere. He probably should do that too. He could wait for her back at the apartment. She’d come back eventually and Chat wasn’t sure he could sleep a wink tonight anyway. Better get this over with as soon as possible.

He got into the living room through the balcony door as he’d always done and found a towel to dry himself. Then, Chat sat on the couch and let the silence consume him, every minute feeling like an eternity.

An hour later, the front door creaked open and Marinette slouched in.

Adrien stilled, pain gripping his chest.

Dripping with rainwater, clothes completely soaked, Marinette was struggling to muffle her crying. She froze in place, noticing him. Her tears didn’t stop, violently streaming down her cheeks. Her lips trembling, she held herself with her arms, gaping at him in silence for a full minute before averting her gaze.

“What are you doing here, Chat? I asked for some space. Please, give me at least that.”

Next >

#miraculous ladybug #marichat #adrienette #ml #chat noir #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug #the other you

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galahadwilder · 6 years ago

Note

2 sentence ask meme- "Stop struggling Princess, I won't let anything happen to you," the Akumatized Cat reassured. "I just need your here to help me convince Ladybug to had over her Miraculous."

Save Me From Myself, Ch. 1

Save Me Archive

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Chat Noir had always been good at communicating through subtext; apparently so was Chat Blanc. Those two sentences told Marinette a number of very important things.

First: Akumatized or not, it was Noir, not Blanc, that was in control. She relaxed into his trembling grip, into his chest, as the winds atop the Eiffel Tower buffeting her hair around her face. I won’t let anything happen to you, he’d said, and he’d meant it—possessed by rage or no, he’d sooner have ripped his own heart out than let her fall. His claws hovered over her skin, refusing to touch. She knew she could trust him, and so she did.

The second thing was bigger. Much bigger.

I just need your here to help me convince Ladybug to had over her Miraculous, he’d said, conspicuously referring to Marinette and Ladybug as separate people when he knew damn well they were the same. Even with his thoughts, his very soul, twisted, Adrien’s loyalty to her was incorruptible. He doesn’t know who you are, he was telling her. He can’t read my thoughts and I’ve told him nothing.

Help me.

She hadn’t had time to grab Trixx. Couldn’t transform in front of Adrien—they didn’t know how wired into Chat Blanc’s senses Hawkmoth was. As long as Chat could convince Hawkmoth that Marinette could bring Ladybug to him, and as long as Marinette could keep Chat Blanc’s attention—and his sanity—he wasn’t a danger. Couldn’t hurt anyone but her, and wouldn’t hurt her.

She reached up, brushed her fingers along his cheek, and he whimpered. “Don’t worry, Chat,” she whispered. I’ll get us out of this.

The only problem was how.

“Gyah!” Alya screamed, pounding raw, bloody knuckles into the stonework at the base of the Eiffel Tower. She pulled back her hand, feeling nothing, as blood dripped down to the stone below. “Where is she?”

“She’ll be here soon,” Nino said, his gaze flicking nervously across the skyline. “That’s her partner, right? She’s—she’s gotta be.”

“It’s been an hour,” Alya snarled. “An hour since Chat Blanc kidnapped our friend, and nobody’s seen hide nor hair of Ladybug in that entire time.” She pulled on the collar of her shirt, looking down, as if the Fox Miraculous could have somehow appeared around her neck without her noticing since the last time she checked, about forty seconds ago. “God damn it!”

“She’ll be here,” Nino said. He stared up at the specks of their friend and her captor on the top of the tower, picking at a hangnail that she knew he didn’t have. “She always is—she’s gotta be, right?”

“What if she’s—” Alya’s voice broke. “What if she’s not?”

“Then I suppose,” said an older, accented voice, “she’ll need your help.”

Both of them jerked around to see a small Chinese man in a Hawaiian Oxford standing just behind them. He wore cargo shorts, sandals, an inscrutable smile—and Nino’s Miraculous.

“Who are you?” Alya said, eyes narrowing.

“I am…” The man tilted his head quizzically. “Ladybug’s mentor.” He held up a hand, with a familiar octagonal box. “And she needs you.”

Alya’s stomach slammed into her solar plexus as Nino stumbled backward in shock. “Where is she?” Alya gasped. “Is she okay?”

The old man shook his head. “Her partner has been captured,” he said. “Which means we’re one step away from losing.” He hung his head. “I had to beg her to stay hidden, lest she lose her Miraculous as well.” He sighed. “So no. She’s not.”

“You’ve got this,” Marinette murmured, stroking Chat’s face. “Keep it together. You’re gonna be okay.”

Chat whimpered as the neon violet mask pulsed across his face. “He won’t stop,” he moaned. “Princess—it hurts.”

She pressed her fingertips into his scalp and began to scratch. He purred, but it cut as the neon mask pulsed, burned hot against his face. Sizzled.

“No,” he gasped. “I’m not leaving her here!” He shook his head. “I swear, she’s coming, she’ll be here—no, no, no—don’t make me hurt her, I won’t, I won’t—”

The familiar whizz-crack of Ladybug’s yo-yo striking metal.

Chat Blanc’s head whipped around as Ladybug vaulted up the side of the tower, charging towards them. He turned, met Marinette’s eyes.

Rena.

She nodded. Go.

Chat launched himself to his feet and flung himself into space, plummeting toward the Ladybug Mirage.

Rena grimaced as she saw the white blur of Chat Blanc swan dive off the Eiffel Tower, leaving Marinette alone and unprotected—the struts were not a place for an unarmored civilian. She hated this plan, but it was all they had.

As Chat fell, like a pulley, a green figure rose up the opposite side of the tower. Carapace bounced upward, launching himself off each strut toward Marinette.

The Ladybug mirage leaped sideways, narrowly dodging Chat Blanc’s claws and blowing the whole charade. Chat spun in midair, throwing up his hands and catching himself on one of the struts, then unholstered his baton and fired it upwards. The Ladybug mirage backflipped away from the tower, rappelling downward on her yo-yo as Carapace grabbed onto Marinette and pulled her upwards toward the observation deck.

The elevator dinged open at the base of the tower, and Marinette rushed out, immediately looking upward. The Ladybug mirage had vanished—five minutes. Rena had probably been forced to detransform already, leaving Carapace all alone against the ferocity of Chat Blanc. Without Marinette there, Chat Noir seemed to have lost all ability to hold Blanc back.

Carapace was losing ground. A temporary hero facing an experienced fighter, filled to the brim with killing intent? No contest at all.

She brushed her hair aside, clearing Tikki a path to her earrings and ducking behind the stone base of the tower. “Don’t worry, Kitty,” she murmured. “I’ll fix this. Tikki—!”

A superstrong arm in orange and black wrapped around her waist, and suddenly she was in midair halfway across the street. “Sorry!” Rena said as they bounded to a stop on a nearby rooftop. “Had to get you clear.” She let go of Marinette, brushing down the arms of her jacket. “Do you know why the Akuma was coming for you?”

Marinette growled. This was not the time—! “No,” she said. “I’ve got no idea.”

Rena glanced back to the tower. “Dammit. Okay,” she said. “Gotta go. Can you get down from here on your own?”

Marinette nodded, and then Rena was gone.

Fighting Chat Blanc—without Ladybug, no less—was absolute hell. Destruction incarnate, unrestrained by Chat Noir’s gentleness, faster and more vicious than any Akuma they’d ever seen.

“You can’t hide in there for long,” Chat snarled as Carapace slumped behind the glowing honeycomb of his Shellter.

“Don’t do this,” Rena whispered.

Chat bared his fangs. “You can’t stop me.” He raised his hand. “Cataclysm!” A violet-black flame coalesced in his palm, like a corrupted version of his usual destructive power.

What happens when Cataclysm touches Shellter? Rena thought, sweating. “I’m sorry, Ladybug.”

“Somebody say my name?”

Wire wrapped around Chat’s wrist, yanking his Cataclysm away from the wall of Carapace’s shield. At the other end of the wire stood Ladybug, hand on one hip, smug grin on her face.

“Ladybug,” Rena gasped in relief.

“Ladybug!” Chat cried in what sounded shockingly like delight. Then Hawkmoth’s lightning-bolt mask flared over his face, and he grabbed his temple and began to scream.

*Chat swung his hand at Ladybug.

“Nnnnnnope,” she said, limboing under his arm just like she’d done during Dark Cupid. She launched herself onto her feet, flipping forward onto the wall across the street and sticking to the window. “Come get me, Kitty!”

“Stop it!” he screamed, charging toward her Cataclysm-first, his face twisted in fear. “Run, dammit! Get away from me!”

“Not on your life,” she said, flipping herself up the wall just ahead of his claw, which closed on empty air.

“Please!” he cried, frozen, his hand shaking. “I can’t protect you from me!”

“No,” she said, nodding. “But they can.”

Chat Blanc turned to see a crowd of Ladybugs, smiling and waving at him.

“Oh God,” he said as Ladybug flipped over him, disappearing into the crowd. “I can’t tell if I’m in heaven or hell.”

Ladybug snorted, lost amidst a swarm of illusions of herself. Ah, Timebreaker.

All the Ladybugs charged him at once.

Chat Blanc screamed, sobbing, trying not to swing at any of them—for all he knew, any could be the real one. She, meanwhile, hung back, watching, trying to figure out where the Akuma had landed. It definitely wasn’t his ring—he wasn’t actually wearing it right now. That left…

“Now!” she yelled, and Carapace leaped out from the alley, slinging his shield at the back of Chat Blanc’s neck. It whonged off his spine, stunning him—

And Ladybug leaped forward, wrapped her fingers around the bell at his throat, and yanked him in to lock lips. He melted into her, mewling, and she pulled the bell away from his throat, crushing it in her fingers.

The metal melted, turning to the blue knitted fabric of Adrien’s favorite scarf before it even hit the ground.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Adrien said to Carapace, leaning onto his friend’s shoulders. The Akuma fight had taken a lot out of him, and he may not have remembered much but catching him up on what he’d done didn’t seem to be great for his emotional state.

“Course, bro,” Carapace said. “Do you, uh…”

Adrien sighed. “Yeah, Nino,” he said. “I know it’s you.”

“Uh, right,” Nino said, pushing back his hood and scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry about the, uh, hitting you with the shield.”

Rena chuckled.

“It’s fine, Nino,” Adrien said. “Promise.” He turned to Ladybug. “Sorry for trying to kill you.”

“It’s fine, sweetie,” Ladybug said. “You were actually trying really hard not to, anyway.”

Rena raised an eyebrow. “Man, even when you’re Akumatized, you’re still shameless in love with—wait.” She scowled. “Aren’t you dating Marinette?”

“Open relationship,” Ladybug and Adrien said simultaneously.

Rena narrowed her eyes, then shrugged.

Ladybug turned to her boyfriend. “Why did you get Akumatized, anyway?”

Adrien closed his eyes, breathed in, then out. “I know who Hawkmoth is,” he said. “And… My Lady?” He opened his eyes, locked gaze with her. “You’re not gonna like it.”

Save Me Archive

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#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #chat blanc #marichat #ladybug #ladynoir #ladrien #adrien agreste #my fic #original content #alya cesaire #rena rouge #nino lahiffe #carapace #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #ml fanfic #ml fic

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jadekitty777 · 5 years ago

Text

The Miraculous Tales of Luckybug and Qrow Noir

Anyone ready for an onslaught of fics from me for the next week? Because that’s what’s happening my friends.

(I apologize that my blog will also be running on super speed for the next week as I reblog stuff. I also apologize in advance that I won’t have time to read many, if any, fics. My own still need to be edited and finalized. Aaah lil’ stressed honestly).

Day 1: Flirting

Rating: K+

Pairing: Qrow/Clover

Word Count: 5600

Ao3 Link: The Miraculous Tales of Luckybug and Qrow Noir

Summary: In the daytime, he was Clover Ebi. Just a normal college student, with a normal life. But there's something about him no one knows yet. Because he has a secret. A miraculous secret.

(AKA: The Miraculous Ladybug AU no one asked for)

“Voici, À Bientôt!”

“Merci beaucoup. Bonne journée!” Clover replied, taking the box from the smiling cashier.

As he stepped out of the bakery into the busy streets of Paris, he gave a sigh of relief. Though he’d been living in France for the past two months now for his Spring Abroad program, he couldn’t help but feel a little anxious every time he had to converse with the locale. His accent wasn’t the best and some words he just couldn’t remember the right inflection for.

Then again, as he got to Green Belt Park and took a seat on one of the empty benches, leaning back to enjoy the stunning view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance, he figured being in such a beautiful city was a good excuse to remain speechless.

He set his bookbag down beside him, opening the flap, and then the top of the box, revealing two small slices of cake. “Okay Ruby, you can come out. It’s safe.”

In a flash quicker than lightning, a red streak zipped from his bag and into the box. A moment later, the kwami looked up at him with starry silver eyes and asked, “You got me two?”

He tapped her on the head, right between her antennae. “The strawberry is for you. The other is…”

“For Qrow, right?” As she looked up at him, he decided that the paragon of heroism should not have such a shit-eating grin.

“It’s not-!” He knew his face was getting hot. “We have to work on the sociology project this evening so I thought he’d appreciate it.”

Not fooled for a second, Ruby said between bites of cake, “You should just tell him.”

“I don’t think I should be taking love advice from an immortal being that transcends time.” He craned his head back, watching the thin clouds above drift along the sky. “Besides, it’s not that easy. Qrow is, he’s just so-” He pictured the other man, all dark hair, captivating red eyes, and shy, personal smiles wrapped around a gruff voice that belayed layers of emotion. Clover sighed longingly, “Wonderful.”

Even without eyebrows, Ruby rose one. “Ah-huh. I can see how you’re having trouble.”

He cracked up. It was nice to have her sensible perspective around. He had to wonder how different his life would have been if he never picked up that little black box with the note ‘You’ve been chosen’ left underneath it.

Having come into his life around the same time Qrow had, she’d been privy to a behind-the-scenes look to how his relationship with the other man shifted from strangers to close friends. She was the only one who heard his secret thoughts as that bond grew into intense feelings.

“I really mean it though. It’s always best to be honest with your heart.” The kwami told him.

“I know you’re right. But is it what’s right for Qrow?” At her head tilt, he explained, “He’s got a crush of his own, remember? The one he’s so vague about?”

“Maybe he’s so vague because it’s you?”

He snorted. “Only if he knows I’m Luckybug. He’s got blue eyes, remember?” That was one of the only things he’d been able to pull out of him, besides the gender. Which, after a simple process of elimination, meant it was either Qrow’s best friend Taiyang or James, the leading RA in their dorms back home. Well, or rich and prissy Jacques, but he knew Qrow had better standards than that.

“He could be colorblind to green?” Ruby offered hopefully.

He gave her another pat on the head. “I don’t think it works that way, but thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

She made a soft noise, before floating up from her bed of crumbs to sit on his shoulder instead. “He hasn’t mentioned this person the entire trip though, right?”

Clover started in surprise. She was right, he hadn’t – which was a huge change from the near weekly aside he’d give about whatever his ‘prince charming’ was up to. “You think it’s fading away?”

“I’m not sure.” She said, looking towards the city’s prized monument. “But I think it might mean this trip could be an opportunity to tell him how you feel. What better place to do that then the city of love?”

He mulled that over. When he found out his university offered abroad studies during junior year, he had been so excited. He’d always wanted to travel, but the prospect of going alone was also nerve-wracking. Qrow, facing much the same enthusiasm and inhibitions, had struck a deal that they would go together. That also meant they had been spending an exorbitant amount of time together, living together in the shared home with a few other students. Shared a room, even.

How many nights had they spent together, just talking about nothing and everything? Mapping out plans over train and bus schedules to fit in as many big sights as they could on their free weekends of tourism? Walked along the Seine at night, the city lights reflecting off the water, where Clover would inadvertently get lost staring at how gorgeous Qrow looked in the casting glow?

Maybe… he could…

“Clover, the sky!”

The sudden alarm in Ruby’s voice had his head jerking upwards. To his horror, the space above the tower was turning black with red lightning streaking across. The telltale sign of Omen at work. But she couldn’t be here!

But sure enough, from the depths of the portal, a large, winged Grimm appeared. It looked like a giant raven, with terribly sharp claws and razor-tipped feathers.

His kwami looked to him, determined. “We need to transform.”

He nodded and grabbed his phone, sending a quick message to Qrow, before stuffing it and the bakery box in his bag. After a cursory glance around, he ducked into the shadow of a tree trunk. “Alright Ruby, charm on!”

The clover-shaped brooch on his chest glowed and Ruby collided with it, and in an instant, he felt his civilian clothes disappear, replaced by a skin-tight, red and polka-dot suit and a mask that covered his eyes. His hair lengthened, his normal, spiked quiff falling into a messier comb over, some of the bangs tickling against his forehead. As the magic of the transition faded, he plucked the yo-yo off his belt and went racing across the park, throwing it at a rooftop, feeling the end latch onto a chimney. With a pull, it retracted and he went flying through the air, landing at the top in one smooth motion. He paused only long enough to leave his bag behind before he went racing along the rooftops towards the emergency.

“I don’t understand. How is Omen here?” Clover asked to no one, feeling panic begin to rise. Did something happen to the team back home? The thought made him sick.

Maria had been very strict about how many miraculous he could put on the field in his absence, not wanting to have another fall into the wrong hands like the Pegasus miraculous had. So, he – or more specifically Luckybug – left Yang the Dragon with Tai and Sun the Monkey with Elm, giving both specific instructions to protect San Francisco in his absence. He’d only called for their assistance a few times before when things got really hectic, so he was hoping Noir would be able to balance the less experienced miraculous users out.

But to think Omen may have defeated all three? That was too awful to imagine.

He looked up at where the bird was circling the tower, dread settling into a hard knot in his gut.

How was he going to do this alone?

“Your stinky fish, madame.” Qrow presented the sardines with a flourish.

Blake lit up immediately, diving for the can and fishing one out for herself.

He left the rest of the can on the desk in easy reaching distance, before setting back into his chair where a very blank word document was staring back at him. He gave an agitated huff. He’d been hoping to at least come up with a few research topics for their paper before Clover got back from his lecture in International Affairs. Which was, Qrow mentally reminded with a fond eyeroll, not a required course for the program they were a part of. But Clover just couldn’t help himself, saying it might come in handy for his GPA score as he signed himself up for the class.

Tch, overachiever.

The distinct feeling of being watched sent a shudder down his spine, and he gave the spirit beside him a look.

The cat kwami stared back, unblinking.

“Blake you’re freaking me out again.”

Her ears twitched and she went to fetch another sardine. “I was just waiting for you to get that dreamy look on your face again.”

He flushed. “D-Dreamy?”

“Mmhmm. It kind of looks like,” She gave an exaggerated sigh, placing a paw against her cheek and fluttering her non-existent lashes.

“I never look like that.” He deadpanned.

“Whatever you say.”

“I don’t! And, anyways, what’s it to you?”

She didn’t reply, taking the time to munch into her fish instead.

He sighed, focusing back on his laptop, switching over to the internet to check on the feed from back home. No new reports of any attacks on any of the news blogs. It was like their enemy had decided to take a vacation at the same time he had.

When Qrow had first became Noir, Maria had told him to be very careful with what information he gave, even to other miraculous holders. He intended to vaguely tell Luckybug he would be out. So, it had really been a stroke of luck when Luckybug announced first on their last mission together that a family emergency was going to keep him out of commission for a while – but that he’d left Tatsu and Timber in the wings in case he needed help. So, he never shared his own intentions. Instead, he placed Kali in charge of Weiss the Bee until he returned, knowing that the power team Lucky had left behind would need a more versatile and calculating fighter in their midst.

(The role he normally filled, he thought with a sense of pride).

He’d been checking on things back at the home front regularly, knowing it only took minutes before social media was trending any new crisis, but it had been unusually quiet. He was sure Lucky was doing the same, wherever he was.

His heart clenched up, thinking about him. They’d been fighting the good fight together for over a year now, and it hadn’t taken much for Qrow to become smitten with the mysterious, masked hero. He’d thought he was everything he ever wanted; strong, daring, ambitious, with a dazzling smile and a baritone voice that was to die for. He was certain their time apart would be torturous.

Yet, it hadn’t been.

They said distance made the heart grow fonder, but it was more like his heart had forgotten. He couldn’t pinpoint when it was exactly that he’d become so preoccupied by Clover. How he’d grown to appreciate his gentle gestures and thoughtful words, his hearty chuckles and sincere expressions. It was as if stepping out of the war woke him from a stupor and gave him a chance to see things he’d missed, even when they were right in front of him.

Qrow sighed, placing his chin in his hand.

“This is my favorite part.”

“Huh?” He looked down at Blake, recognizing that mischievous gleam in her yellow eyes.

“The best story I get to witness is when one of my hosts falls in love.”

“I-I’m not falling in love!” He said immediately. “I have a crush.”

“Really.” It was her turn to deadpan.

He shoved himself away from his desk, offense all over his tone as he echoed, “Yes, really. You know how I feel about Lucky.”

He paced the length of the room, coming to stand by the window, staring down at the busy streets below. A moment later, he felt her weight on his shoulder, almost nonexistent, but there.

Her whisker tickled his neck as she turned her head towards him. “What do you know about Luckybug, really?”

Qrow leaned his arm along the glass, meeting his own reflection’s eyes. “I know he’s smart and funny and he’s always willing to put everything on the line to do what’s right.”

“But what do you know of him specifically? What’s his favorite color? What’s his family like? Does he like anchovies on his pizza?”

He snorted at the last one. “He’s my romantic interest, not yours.” His smile slipped away. “I know what you’re getting at. Unless we reveal who we are to each other, this can’t go any further.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “I know that. But it still feels wrong, somehow. Are… my feelings that fickle?”

“Not fickle.” She levitated, hovering by his face. “They just had no room to grow. These things have to be nurtured, but if there’s nothing there to care for it, they’re only bound to wither away.”

That had been way too scripted. He gave a laugh. “That’s it, I’m not downloading anymore trashy romance novels on my phone for you to read.”

Her ears flattened. “If you make me sit through your boring lectures, I’ll break the sprinkler above your head.”

“Alright, I fold.” He held up his hands in surrender. Though he was almost positive it was an empty threat, he didn’t want to tempt fate with the kwami of destruction.

She softened. “Anyways, I think with-” She abruptly cut herself off, suddenly darting against the window. “What’s that?!”

He jerked around, spotting where the sky was darkening on the horizon, turning a deep, inky black. He’d seen it so many times before, the magic was unmistakable.

“You don’t think…” Blake trailed off.

“Omen.” Qrow finished, features smoothing into one of rigid resolve. He turned to the kwami, her expression matching his own.

He lifted his hand, the jeweled ring glinting back at her. “Blake, luck off.”

Clover landed in the courtyard, shouting as he ran. “Everyone, clear out!” He desperately tried to remember whatever French he could. “Fuir! S’il vous plaît!”

“Chanceux!” One of the locals cried, desperately trying to find their phone.

“Non, fuir!” He repeated.

A screech from above made him cover his ears, looking up to see the giant bird climbing down the Eiffel Tower, the vertical walk down unnerving somehow. He backed up as the bird landed on concrete, its impressive height daunting him. His fingers clenched around his weapon, backing up as the bird lowered its head. Its beak was big enough to swallow him whole if it wanted.

It seemed that, at least, was enough to make the people around him finally start to flee.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?”

The voice had him looking higher, spotting the speaker mounted on the beast’s back like a queen in her bed of feathers. Omen walked forward until she stood on the bird’s crown, lowering her sunglasses just enough to reveal crimson red eyes as she stared over the tops of the rims at him.

“What are you doing here?” Clover asked, pulling the yo-yo’s line out as a warning.

She only smiled patronizingly, as if he were no more a threat than a child. “That’s none of your concern.” She pushed her glasses back up, flipping her raven-haired braid over her shoulder. It fell like a horse’s tail along her back, between the wings the Pegasus miraculous granted her.

He felt bad for the imprisoned kwami being forced to do her bidding.

“Tell me, where’s your cohort?” Omen asked, giving a cursory glance around as if Noir would just pop into existence.

“I think I’m more than enough for you.” He instantly realized that had been the wrong thing to say as she laughed.

“You’re alone.” Fuck. “Well, that makes this even easier.” She gestured to the bird she stood on. “But as I’m a fair opponent, I’ll give you a choice. You can hand over your miraculous now, or you can resist and my little Nevermore can have a bit of fun first before I take it.”

As answer, he only started to rotate the yo-yo at his side, the device whooshing audibly as it swung in fast, heavy arcs.

Omen’s dark wings stretched open. “The fun way it is.”

She shot up into the air – but he didn’t have time to worry about her as the Nevermore immediately struck forward, beak opening to snap him in half. He jumped backwards, throwing his weapon out with a yell. It nailed the bird right in its head, the creature giving a sharp cry before it shook it off and straightened up. It opened its wings, the span of them covering a third of the courtyard, and gave a few hard flaps.

It was like being blasted by hurricane winds. Clover yelped as he was thrown off his feet and went tumbling across the concrete. The Nevermore, able to make up the distance in one bound, was on him in an instant. The wind whooshed right out of his lungs as a taloned foot came down on top of him, pinning him to the ground. He grunted, bracing his right arm between him and the appendage trying to crush him while sticking his left arm between its toes.

The bird jerked its head down for another strike, the razor-pointed beak filling his vision like a guillotine.

He swung his left hand upward, the yo-yo flying high and it was by pure luck he got it right in the eye.

The Nevermore gave a pained cry, hopping back. Suddenly, Clover could breathe properly again. He jumped to his feet, slightly lightheaded, throwing his line out again in hopes of tying the creature up and bringing it down.

Instead, with exact precision, the bird caught the end of the yo-yo in its beak, pulling it taut, and then threw its body around, bringing what was on the end of the line with it. Before Clover could process it, his body was yanked forward and he went flying through the air. Everything around him blurred into a mesh of greens, blues, browns and whites, blending together into a sickening cacophony.

He braced himself for the impact.

It was softer, and warmer, then he expected.

“Not having a great day are you, lucky charm?”

He gathered his bearings, realizing who had caught him and jerked his head up in surprise. “Noir?!”

Noir grinned back roguishly, winking one green eye at him. “You know, if you wanted to fall into my arms, you just had to ask.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Clover pushed a hand against his face, rolling out of his grasp to stand on his own. He retracted his yo-yo and studied his surroundings, taking note that he’d been tossed so far, they were underneath the Eiffel Tower. “What are you doing here?”

His teammate didn’t get a chance to answer, the bird giving another of those deafening screeches as it tried to shove itself between the legs of the tower. They both jerked away, before twisting around and running the other way.

“Could ask you the same thing!” Noir shouted over the noise. “Where’s Omen?”

“Lost track of her.” Which meant she was playing her normal A-game: Exhaust them by making them fight her pet so that it would be child’s play to steal their miraculous. Their goal was to defeat it – because if he could purify the contaminated feather within the creature, it would act like a direct attack against Omen, usually enough to weaken her into fleeing.

“Alright let’s – Watch it!”

Both of them jumped back when the corvid was suddenly in the path of their escape route, its gigantic foot missing them by inches when it was thrust under the tower, claws raking over the ground.

That was no good. Clover looked around, before pointing towards the ceiling of beams above them. “Up.”

Noir gave a nod, reaching out to grasp him around his waist and taking out his quarterstaff. He tapped it to the ground, and within seconds it shot them upwards as it extended. When it was high enough, they leapt onto the first section of metalwork, protected in the shell of crisscrossing steel. Noir compacted the weapon back into baton length, turning to him, “Alright, now what?”

“Now we just-” He started to say, raising his yo-yo, when the whole tower rattled as the Nevermore clamped onto the side they were hiding in. It gave a few wild cries, slamming its beak between the spaces as it tried to get to them.

Noir watched it warily before he called, “We’re safe for now, do it!”

Not wasting a moment, Clover threw his weapon up in the air with a cry, “Lucky charm!” The end of the yo-yo began to glow with the magic of creation, until it held the brilliance of a star. Then, with a pop, an item materialized, falling back down into his waiting hands.

It was a fishing rod.

Noir gave it, and then him, a dull look.

Clover was grinning. “Well, looks like-”

“Don’t-!”

“I’m giving fly fishing a whole new meaning.”

His partner groaned audibly. “You are worse than Tatsu.”

“No one is worse than Tatsu.” He joked. Tai’s never-ending set of puns really did fit the bill for cartoon-y superhero though.

Another slam from their enemy had dirt raining down on them from above.

Getting serious again, Clover rose both the rod and the yo-yo, saying, “You knock it off, I tie it up, and we end this.”

“Got it.” Noir nodded, pointing his staff towards the bird. “On your signal.”

He threw both lines upwards, yanking himself to a higher vantage point, running along the metalwork. They were so high up, it was like he was running towards the sky. Just as he got to the end, he yelled, “Now!”

At the same moment he jumped, the pole extended, slamming into the Nevermore’s chest. It was thrown off with a cry and both of them flew parallel to one another. He wound both weapons back then swung forward, the hook of the fishing rod and the ball of the yo-yo twisting around either wing of the bird. Flightless, it plummeted with another screech to the concrete, slamming down hard enough to shake the earth.

Clover’s landing was much softer, falling onto its chest and using the momentum to leap off of it like a trampoline, landing again several meters past its head. He held both the lines fast, ensuring it couldn’t get free.

“Cataclysm!” Noir came soaring out of the tower next, the power of his own destructive magic having taken shape at the end of his baton, glimmering black like an obsidian gem and curved like a scythe. As he came down, he swung it around, impaling the sharp end in the center of the monster bird’s chest.

It gave one last croaking cry, the ends of its wings curling up before falling flat as its body turned to dust, leaving nothing behind but a single, black feather. Clover threw out his yo-yo for it, the ball end splitting open like the shell of a ladybug’s wings, before snapping it up. He pulled it back in, hand open to catch it.

An arrow struck the end, knocking it off course.

In quick succession, another two arrows were shot off as Omen bared down for them, swooping in like a Nevermore herself. Clover swung the fishing rod, deflecting the one coming his way. Noir did the same for the one aimed at him with a quick spin of his staff, before using one end of it to vault himself upwards and meet their enemy half way.

As they grappled in the air, Clover took the chance to yank on his weapon in. With a flit of his fingers along the yo-yo’s surface, it glowed white, purifying the feather.

Omen gave a pained cry, before slamming the limb of her bow against Noir’s head. Clover’s chest tightened in panic, rushing forward as his partner fell like a stone from the sky. He just barely made up the distance in time to catch him in his arms, relieved to find him still conscious. They both looked up as they heard a scoff.

“Tch. Eventually your luck is going to run out. Nothing will stop me from creating a new world.” Omen sneered. “Until next time, boys.”

She shot an arrow above her, another red and black portal opening up. With a flap of her wings, she flew into it, gone as quickly as she had come.

Clover sighed, looking down at his partner. “You alright?”

“Ugh, gonna be feeling that one tomorrow.” Noir grunted, pressing a hand to his head, one of his leather cat ears being pushed down. His injury didn’t seem to hinder his ability to realize their position, because that telltale smirk overtook his face. “Though, guess I’m the one falling for you now.”

“I’m not above dropping you.”

“Are you always this mean to invalids?”

He loosened his hold just a smidge.

Noir clung to him. “Okay, message received.”

Clover set him on his feet, seeing the people starting to trickle back in to investigate the scene.

Time to go.

Once they were safely hidden on the rooftops, hidden in the shadows of a chimney, Luckybug turned to him with that million-watt smile. “Thanks for the assist. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Qrow lent back against the brick. As he spoke, his normally rough voice came out even rougher around the edges; the way it always did when he was Noir. “I’m sure you woulda figured it out lucky charm.”

“I’m glad I didn’t have to.” He replied, averting his gaze down. He spun the white feather between his fingers, frowning in consternation. “I still don’t understand how she got here though. Her portals shouldn’t be able to reach this far.”

Any other time, he would have been eager to ponder over the details of this latest attack with him, but he knew his time was running short and something more important was on his mind. “Could say the same about you. You got family out here?”

The frown became more defined. “Noir, you know I can’t-”

“Tell me, I know.” He waved off the excuse. “But that could change, if you told me who you really are.”

Lucky sighed, placing a hand on his hip. “Okay, what brought this all on again?”

Qrow met that blue-eyed gaze he’d once fallen in love with, feeling like everything between them was as thin as the wire of the other’s yo-yo. Uncertain and easy to break. If he wanted to make it stronger, he needed something more.

Now or never.

“Look, all that flirting I do? It’s not for show.” He pushed off the wall, clearing the few steps of distance between them. His heart raced in his ears. “I like you. A lot. I want to get to know you, the real you. But, I need to know if I even got a shot.”

“Noir…” He knew the answer before the other even spoke. It was all over his face, etched in his sad smile and downturned brows. “I’m sorry, but my heart’s already with someone else.”

“Oh.” He turned away.

Funny, he thought it’d hurt more.

A tentative hand rested on his shoulder. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Qrow replied, surprised that he meant it.

Before more could be said, both their miraculous started to beep in warning.

The hand slipped away. “Guess time’s up. I’ll… see you around?”

Qrow nodded, hearing Lucky retreat along the roof. Before he could leap away, he called, “Hey, that person of yours. Do they know?”

“I, uh.” Gravel crunched underfoot as his teammate shifted his weight anxiously. “Not yet.”

“You should tell ‘em.” He looked over his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. “Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Lucky’s eyes widened, and then he was smiling back. “Thanks. Someone’s going to be really lucky to have you too, one day.”

Qrow reached for his staff, heading his own way. “Well, duh. I’m incredible.”

The other cast his line, flying away with a laugh. Qrow watched him go, before dropping down into the alleyway. He ducked down behind some boxes just in time, the leather bodysuit falling back into his normal wear.

Blake collapsed into his hair with a sigh. “I’m going to need about fifteen more sardines.”

“Glutton.” He got to his feet, knowing his nest of black hair would hide her just fine as he headed for the sidewalk.

“Qrow? Are you okay?”

Answering it the second time around wasn’t any harder then the first. “Yeah. I just needed to know for sure. Now I know it’s okay to let him go.”

She didn’t respond verbally, but he felt the way she nuzzled his head, though whether it was meant to be for comfort or encouragement was hard to say. Maybe both.

It took about fifteen minutes to get back to the share house he and a half-dozen other students were living in for the duration of the program. When he stepped inside, he found it oddly quiet, the only noise a slight shuffling in the kitchen. A glance revealed his twin sister was there, hunched over the counter, nursing a cup of tea in one hand as she pressed her forehead into the other.

Heh, maybe she felt him get clonked in the head earlier. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” She mumbled. “Just a migraine.”

He lowered his voice, “You the only one here?”

Not up for talking more, Raven merely nodded.

Strange, Clover should have been back by now. “Okay, I’ll make sure to tell everyone to be quiet when they get in. Feel better, sis.”

She offered him a weak smile. He ducked out of the kitchen, heading back for his room. As Blake floated down to her still open can of tiny fish for a much-needed recharge, Qrow snatched up his phone to send out the group message, only to find two missed messages from Clover.

The first one was from nearly an hour ago. Sorry, running late!

On my way now. You won’t believe what happened at the Eiffel Tower. That one was from just a few minutes ago.

Qrow quirked a smile. If Clover only knew…

He tapped back a reply. I know. I went out to try and get a view of it. Forgot my phone.

He could see the other was replying, but he switched to the group text in the meantime, sending out a warning to be quiet for his twin. He’d just hit send, when another string of texts came through, one right after the other:

How do you forget your phone? You’re supposed to get photographic evidence!

Anyways I’ll be there in a few.

Also, noted.

Qrow headed for his bed, flopping across the sheets with a groan. The aches of the day were starting to set in, and he felt ready for a shower and a nap. He buried his pounding head into his pillow, shutting his eyes.

He didn’t open them again until he heard the bedroom door click shut. He rose up on his elbows, scanning the room quickly. The sardine can was gone, as was Blake.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Clover asked as he crossed the room, dropping his bag on his bed.

“Wasn’t asleep.” He ran a hand over his face, adding, “Much as I wanted to be.”

“You doing alright? You look pretty beat.”

Beat up was more like it.

“Been a long day.” He offered as explanation. It did little to wipe the concern from the other’s face. “I’m fine Cloves. We got that paper to work on.”

Clover ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Sure we do but we can take it easy for tonight. Can’t say I wouldn’t mind to turn in early myself.”

“You? Mr. Extra Credit?”

“Haha, very funny. I mean it. I have this terrible crick in my neck. Oh!” He dropped his hand so he could go digging into his bag. “But hey, I did bring you something that just might cheer you up.”

That got Qrow to finally sit up, trying not to seem too eager as the other procured a small, white box and held it out towards him. He reached across the space between their beds to take the gift. Once it was safely on his side, he pulled open the top.

“It probably got a little smooshed, but it’ll taste the same.” Clover was right about that – the cake had fallen on its side, and smears of icing clung to the top and sides of the box.

Qrow swiped a finger across one of them, gathering just enough to take a taste, and his eyes lit up. “Double German chocolate? You’re too good to me.”

“Nah, I can be better. Because I have… a fork!” Clover waved the plastic utensil around, winking his way. “What would you do without me?”

“Probably have less dorky interactions to deal with.” He replied, reaching out again.

Instead of grabbing the tines, he curled his fingers over where the other’s held onto the handle.

Qrow deliberately met his gaze, smiling as suavely as he could. “Thank you, Clover.”

Though his cheeks turned a little pink, Clover met him match for match with his own charming smile. “Anytime.”

As they both pulled back, they couldn’t help but think this was the start of something good.

Underneath their beds, unbeknownst to them both, Ruby and Blake shared knowing smiles.

#clover ebi #qrow branwen #fair game #fairgameweek2020 #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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afni-fics · 5 years ago

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The Eiffel Tower Incident in Paris introduced two young new heroes (Ladybug and Chat Noir) and a new supervillain (Le Papillon) to the world. This event did not go unnoticed by the Justice League.

(a pre-New52 DCU/Miraculous Ladybug crossover fusion)

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Chapter Index

A variety of news reports and videos played on the main screen of the Justice League conference room on their outer space Watchtower satellite. Gathered around the table were the senior leaders of the heroic defensive organization.

They’d been watching these videos and reading real-time reports from Paris since the news first broke several hours earlier. The appearance of both a powerful new supervillain and vigilantes who seemed to be barely teenagers had spurred them to this emergency meeting. Fortunately for them, one of them had at least a general idea of what was going on.

“Each of these individuals appears to possess mystical items called Miraculous,” Zatanna, the leader of the mystics faction of the Justice League said. Her long black hair was streaked with a single lock of white that cut across her temple before being wound up into a bun that was held in place by a jeweled stick that looked suspiciously like a wand. She stood at the front of the conference room next to the digital screen. “They’re powerful artifacts that can grant their wielders unique abilities.” She paused one of the videos and expanded it to fill the entire screen. On screen were the three major players of the Eiffel Tower Incident: a girl dressed in red with black spots, a boy dressed in black with a distinctive feline theme, and a floating giant head that appeared to be made of a swarm of purple butterflies.

“So these people are not metahumans?” Superman asked. He sat at the head of the large conference room table. His black hair was touched with streaks of silver gray at the temples, and small lines of age around his eyes gave him a distinguished appearance.

Zatanna mused over the question before shaking her head. “Can’t be 100% certain at this point, but it’s more likely these are normal human beings. The only thing I know for sure is that the powers they’re exhibiting are derived from the Miraculous.”

The sorceress zoomed in on each individual one at a time. “The villain calling himself Le Papillon possesses the Butterfly Miraculous. This one gives the wielder the power of metamorphosis, the ability to transform ordinary people into… something more. In his hands, he appears to be mind controlling innocent people to turn them into villains to serve his own goals.”

She zoomed in on the young teenage boy who looked to be about thirteen or fourteen years of age. “This is Chat Noir. He possesses the Black Cat Miraculous, which gives him the power of destruction.” Zatanna activated a video which showed the boy’s destructive powers in action as a section of the Eiffel Tower immediately corroded into rust at his touch.

There was a murmur of shared concern over how such powers were in the hands of both a power-hungry villain and a teenager that looked like he’d only just reached his teens.

Finally Zatanna zoomed in on the girl. She was dressed in a red bodysuit covered in black spots and her black hair was tied back in twin pigtails that made her look even younger and more childlike than her feline companion, though it was likely that they were close to the same age. “This girl here is calling herself simply Ladybug, and obviously she wields the Ladybug Miraculous, which has powers of creation. Between herself and Chat Noir, she appears to have taken on the role of leader. She's also special in that she appears to have access to multiple powers, not just one.

In one video, they watched as she threw her weapon, a yo-yo of all things, into the air and it returned to her transformed into a parachute. It seemed an odd thing at first, but after a short bit, it turned out to be exactly what she needed to defeat the stone creature she and Chat Noir had been fighting. “This first ability appears to be creating an instant deus ex machina for the battle she’s in. She’s heard calling it her ‘Lucky Charm’.”

In a second video they watched as she used her yo-yo again, but this time to capture a purple butterfly that escaped from the stone creature that had been terrorizing the city. When she opened her yo-yo, the butterfly was now pure white as it flitted away. “Ladybug also appears to have the ability to purify the butterflies created by Le Papillon to possess others, releasing them from his control.”

Finally, a third video showed Ladybug throwing the used parachute Lucky Charm into the air, where it transformed in midair into a swarm of glowing red ladybugs that swept through the city at lightning speed and repaired all the damage that had been caused by the battle. “And finally, she appears to have the power to reverse all the damage caused by other Miraculous users. Even Chat Noir’s destruction of part of the Eiffel Tower was fixed. The people in Paris have started referring to it as ‘the Miraculous Cure’.”

Clearly the abilities Ladybug possessed impressed the gathering of heroes. “Her ability to reverse so much destruction is remarkable,” Diana, still their Wonder Woman but now Queen of the Amazons, said. “Is it limited just to things changed by the influence of other Miraculous users, or can it be expanded to destruction caused by other forces?”

Zatanna shook her head. “Honestly, we don’t know. There used to be a society of Guardians who protected and studied the Miraculous for ages, but their last known temple was destroyed around two centuries ago. At that time, all the Miraculous and most of the knowledge about them were assumed lost. My husband actually had a few incomplete scrolls about the Miraculous in his mystical archives, but nothing too substantial. Since the Eiffel Tower Incident, though, he’s gone on an expedition to the location of the temple ruins to see if there’s anything else he can find that survived its destruction.”

“It sounds as if you’re saying there are, or at least were, more Miraculous than just these three in Paris?” Superman asked.

“Not sure how many in total, but Constantine’s scrolls seem to indicate there’s at least seven.” She pulled up a digital image of a mostly intact parchment drawing of a circular design. The symbols of the Ladybug and Black Cat rested with prominence in the center in a yin-yang configuration. Radiating out from there was a ring with five sections, each with what appeared to be different symbols, one of which was an obvious butterfly shape.

Jessica Cruz, the current leader of the Green Lanterns of Earth, stood up to take a closer look at the images on the screen. “So for two hundred years, these artifacts were thought lost, and suddenly three of them resurface in Paris at the same time, one of which appears to have fallen into criminal hands, and the other two into the hands of children?” She turned to Zatanna. “Why does Le Papillon want the Black Cat and Ladybug Miraculous? True they are powerful, but couldn’t he just, theoretically, create villains with similar powers?”

“I don’t think Le Papillon wants them for their obvious powers.” Zatana pulled up another digital image, this one of a half-burned parchment dating from an ancient era. “This scroll appears to indicate that if someone were to possess both the Miraculous of Creation and Destruction at the same time, it would grant them the power to make any wish their heart desires, but at a cost.”

“What kind of cost?”

“That explanation unfortunately was on the destroyed portion. But it’s probably safe to assume that it would be something bad.” Then she regarded the others with a grave expression. “Then again, I think the more pressing concern we should have is what kind of wish does Le Papillon want to make, and how quickly can we stop him.” Zatana looked to the screen where Ladybug and Chat Noir stood together, celebrating their first victory with a cheerful fist-bump. “Those two may be strong with their Miraculous, but they’re still just children beneath the masks. Paris hasn’t reached out to the League yet for our assistance, but we can’t sit by and do nothing until they call us. Those kids need our help.”

The others agreed. However, the current Flash, Wallace West, raised a concern.

“I don’t think we can send just anyone to Paris from the League.”

The others looked at him, and the thirty-something year old African American speedster clarified. “Consider Le Papillon’s power. It appears he can exert a level of mind control over his victims, in addition to giving them an incredible amount of raw power and new abilities. And right now we don’t know how he’s selecting and capturing his victims. What happens if we send over people who already have powers like Clark, Diana, or myself? Even someone who isn’t a metahuman, but has magic like you Zatanna, or a Lantern Ring like Jessica. If Le Papillon manages to capture and turn even just one of us in this room to his side, then it could be a catastrophe not just for Paris, but the rest of the world.”

Batman had been quiet for most of the meeting. Now he rose to his feet and asked Zatanna for control of the main screen. Once he had it, he swept the images and videos off to one side and brought up the current roster of all active and reserved members of the Justice League and satellite teams they worked with regularly. There were probably about a hundred heroes photos on the screen.

“So we need to be strategic with who we send to Paris,” he started. “First, we eliminate all metahumans, aliens, and magic users. We can’t risk them being captured and turned by Le Papillon against us until we can discover the limitations of his power ” More than two-thirds of the photos on the screen blinked out, leaving only human heroes.

Superman nodded. "Let's keep the teenagers out of this fight for now too. It's clear Ladybug and Chat Noir are very young and very green. While I’m sure they would appreciate support from peers close to their own age eventually, what they need right now is an adult or two who can start mentoring and training them, if they don't have anyone supporting them right now."

About a fifth of the remaining roster vanished.

Wonder Woman studied who was left. Her eyes focused on one group specifically "We also need to send someone who can investigate Le Papillon. We need someone on the ground who can start hunting down who he really is so he can be brought to justice as quickly and efficiently as possible. Only then will Paris truly be safe." She looked to Batman, "We need your boys and girls. You’ve raised the best detectives."

Batman looked at the remainder which consisted solely of members tied to his team in Gotham and said nothing for a long moment.

"What's wrong Bruce?" Superman asked.

"The ones on the screen are good, but there’s one person who’s better than them all" The Dark Knight accessed a list of retired members of League and pulled one specific individual out for all to see.

Superman gave Batman a concerned look. "Are you sure? When he left the League, he was in a pretty bad place."

"I know Clark, but he's still the best detective of all of us in Gotham. He also has experience leading and mentoring a team of teenagers. If he can be convinced to help, he would be the best choice for any chance of success in Paris.”

-----

In Gotham Academy, a text message pinged on the phone of a professor who was teaching foreign language to a class of high school students. After a quick glance at the screen, the phone was locked once more and shoved back into his pocket before continuing with his lecture.

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Author Notes:

- On the Miraculous Ladybug side of this fusion, "The Eiffel Tower Incident" is everything from the "Stoneheart" episodes from Season 1.

- On the DCU side of the fusion, this version of the DCU is based on pre-New52 Earth. Samples of differences between pre-New52 and current canon: (1)Barbara Gordan is Oracle and wheelchair-bound. (2)Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain were both Batgirl. (3)Superman and Wonder Woman never dated. (4)Alfred Pennyworth is alive and well.

- However, on the DCU side of the fusion, there is a timeskip of around 15-17

#afewnovelideas #miraculous DC #a mockingbird in paris #mdc:amip #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ml fanfic #batman fanfiction #batman fanfic

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