Letters from Paris

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Sasame's Word's Gate receives postcards from Paris....

Submitted: December 10, 2017

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Submitted: December 10, 2017



Warning - This short fic contains spoilers for Pretear and Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir


The radio show opened with some soft smooth music. The voice that spoke over it after a few moments was soft and kind. “Welcome to Sasame’s Word’s Gate. Today’s first Postcard comes from “Purrfect Cat-ch. Let’s see what he has to say today.” The smooth even voice read through the postcard.

“Hello I’ve been listening for a while, but this is the first time I am writing in. I appreciate your advice to others and hope for some encouraging words myself. I happen to be ears over tail in love with a superhero in my neighborhood, but she never takes me seriously. I got up the courage to confess to her on Valentine’s day, then got attacked by a villain and lost my chance. Should I try to wait for the purrfect opportunity? Or just speak my mind when I see her next, beclaws I know that if she’s out, so is a villain? Or maybe I should just let the cat keep my tongue and wait?” A small sigh from the man reading the card. “And it is signed Purr-fect Cat-ch.”

“Well, Cat-ch, I advise you not wait for a perfect, or even purr-fect moment. Those only exist if you make them exist, and even then they often fall apart. I can tell from the postage that you are not from Japan, but I can tell you that we have our own share of heroes and villains here. If the love of your life really is a hero, then the best thing you can do to keep her and your area safe is confess. Do not wait for a perfect time, or even try to make one. Use your words and let her hear the earnestness in your tone. I can tell from this post card that you make jokes when you are nervous. When you tell her how you feel, don’t. Look her in the eyes and be serious. Tell her as many times as she needs to hear it that she is loved.

“Because even if she’s heard the words before and dismissed them, they still matter. A hero’s heart can turn if she is in enough pain. A hero can fall and become a villain. If she loves someone else, do not do the noble thing and stand aside unless he loves her in the same way and will stand beside her and for her. You might think you are doing what is best, being self-sacrificing, but if the other person rejects her, all she will see in you is someone else who didn’t love her, or didn’t love her enough. If you really do love this woman, hero or not, do not wait. Tell her. Tell her every time you see her. Be serious, and earnest. Even if it is terrifying. Take it from me, the alternative could be so much worse than some catty words and embarrassment.”

He cleared his throat gently. “We’ll be back after this song.” Sasame reached over and set the song to play, then glanced at the woman waiting for him. His princess. While Billy Joel’s Tell her about it played, they shared a small smile, then he got the next card up and then frowned and flipped it over. Also from Paris. Odd. He skimmed the letter, though he had read them all before the show in the transcript. It was different holding the post cards though, for the show. They had a different weight.

As the song ended, he turned his microphone back on, and gave a smile, knowing that could be heard in his voice. He was an expert in things that could be heard, after all.

“Our next letter is from Miss Dotty. Let’s see what she has to say.” A breath, then he read her postcard.

“Hi, I doubt this will actually be read on the air, but perhaps it is better if it does not. I mean, I’d love advice and all but… Okay. The thing is, there is this boy in my class. And I might have the teensiest little crush on him. That’s his picture on the back of the post card. He’s kind of famous, as a model. And he has these dreamy eyes and this soft hair, and when he’s in fencing class twice a week, the moment he takes off that helmet he… Ah. Anyway. He’s kind of in that too good to be real category, and I keep trying to tell him how I feel, but mostly what comes out are inarticulate little choking sounds. Yesterday I hit the wall. Um. Literally. Anyway, I really really kind of like him a lot… but I also can’t tell him. I sort of wrote him a letter once, but I think I forgot to sign it. What can I do?”

He changed from his reading voice to his speaking voice. “Well, Miss Dotty, sometimes words are not the only way a message can be heard. If you can sing, perhaps record a song to him from the safety of your room, or a friend’s house, so you can rehearse, and do it over if you need to. But songs aren’t the only way to give a gift. If you can be creative in some other way, do it. From your handwriting, I’d guess you have a bit of an artist’s eye. Perhaps make him a gift and ask a friend you trust to deliver it. Just make sure something in the gift box has your name on it.” A warm smile as he sipped his water.

“Our next card is from Miss Ladyblog.” A quick glance at the back showed him this one also came from Paris. It wasn’t that he minded doing a themed show, he just wished his producer had given him a heads up.

“Miss Ladyblog writes, “ He switched back to his reading voice. “Total fan of your show like crazy. I might have a poster of you up in my room. I don’t need advice myself, though. My life is super cool right now. New boyfriend, the only personal one on one interview with the best superhero in the world. I’m living large. My concern is actually for my best friend. Girl is super talented, but she lets a class bully bring her down and she is ALWAYS getting attacked by the villain of the week. I mean, I actively go CHASING the monsters for a scoop, and I’m not in danger half as much as she is. And when there isn’t a villain… she can go from confidant and a little silly to a tonguetied wreck in zero to six. How do I help my girl see what a treasure she is?” A warm smile. Somehow the letter touched him more now than when he had first read it.

“Miss Ladyblog, it sounds like you are on the right path. Keep believing in her, and always let her know you believe in her. Sometimes just knowing that someone is on your side can make all the difference in the world.” He glanced back to the young woman waiting fro him to finish and gave her a small smile and a nod. Through the window, she returned the smile, hands clasped over her chest. He could tell his voice was reaching Paris, but also hitting a lot closer to home.

“We have just two more postcards today. This one is from DJ Phones. And like Miss Ladyblog, is writing about a best friend.” And back into the reading voice. “Man, my nest friend has it all. Dude has a sick house, an amazing room, all the looks in the world, brains. Everything. Except that part of that everything is a total stick in the mud father. I mean, the man has zero chill. I couldn’t even throw my dude a birthday party without it becoming a whole mess. And he hasn’t said as much, but when he went missing on Christmas, I’m pretty sure he ran away. Everyone else is saying a villain captured him but man… Just…. If he was going to run away, I wish he had run to my house. I wouldn’t have told his old man, and he would have been somewhere safe and warm. Anyway, guess what I’m asking is how do I get his old man to loosen up? See we have these monsters in our town that attack people based on the pain in their hearts. Nearly everyone I know has been attacked, and I’m afraid the dude is next. And my best bud… he deserves better than that. How do I help?”

Clearly post cards were longer in France. Still. “Being there for your friend is the first step. If the villain feeds on negative energy, there is nothing you can do to stop him from ever hurting. At times, we all hurt. But that’s when we need to be able to fall back on the people we love and trust. Our friends, if not our family. Make sure he knows you’re always there to hold his hand if he needs it. There is a lot of power, in just holding the right person’s hand at the right time. That kind of strength can make a hero of anyone. Be there for him, and make sure he knows you have his back, and let him feel he has yours as well. Sometimes just connecting, one heart to another… sometimes that is the best magic there is.

“Our last postcard today is from Miss Silk. Miss Silk has written in many times before. I thought this was an important card to share.” No wonder his producer had wanted t put it off. But not knowing the theme, he insisted, bumping a card from the roster from a Daddy’s Princess that he might have had trouble replying to anyway.

“I have written in many times, and you have led me from the dark. I no longer feel like I am apart from this world, but am now a part of it. My heart has shattered twice, but it has now begun to heal. Thank you for your kindness. And to everyone who has hurt me, you are forgiven.”

He knew how long it took her to be able to write this. To mean that last sentence truly. He respected her and regretted the part he played in hurting her. He had said as much in person, but now…

“Miss Silk. I am eased and happy to know your burdens are easier, and that you are healing. I wish you all the best, from this day and everyday after. I look forward to getting more of your postcards. You will always have a welcome on this show. Thank you, Miss Silk. For everything.”

He swallowed and the woman behind the glass nodded once more. “That is all that we have time for today. Thank you all for your postcards and for listening. I will be with you again on Monday. Have a safe weekend, and always remember, love each other.” He finished his sign off then stood, turning to the next song.

The door opened and the woman who had been waiting rushed over to him. “That was wonderful, I may just become your fan,” she whispered.

He took her hands and looked into her eyes. “I have always been your fan,” he whispered back, “And always will be, Takako.”

Arm in arm, they left the studio, to discuss possibly taking a trip with Himeno and the others to see what exactly was going on in Paris. That one of the post cards they had chosen not to read on the air had a black and purple butterfly on it had not escaped his notice. And a copy of that, and all the other postcards where tucked into his pocket….

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