#I tried looking up how to conjugate and didn’t notice anything on a VERY quick google so I just wung it

[belle-of-a-time]

tu es jaloux parce que j’owo et pas-toi owos #ennuiel

Linguistics is cancelled

[babybluebanshee]

Feedback - A MHA Fic

Hizashi Yamada may be loud, obnoxious, childish, goofy, and frankly have the stupidest hair on the planet...but he's still a teacher.

Aaaaaand Ashido makes five. Sorry, kid, but ��tooken” is not a word.

Hizashi made a harsh red line through the incorrectly conjugated verb, then moved his pen over to a legal pad. In large capital letters, he wrote “VERB REVIEW B4 WEDS.”

After he finished writing, he tapped his pen against the paper once. Twice. Then, he underlined his note. Three times.

He moved back to Ashido’s paper, and tallied her score in the corner - a 64%. Not bad, by Ashido’s standards, but it could stand to be improved. He’d have felt slightly better about it if he hadn’t written even lower percentages on Mineta, Kaminari, and Hagakure’s papers.

He sighed and polished off his soda. As was his way, he tried to look at this from a positive angle. He’d known the unit on irregular verb conjugation was going to be rough going in, especially in a language as absolutely insane as English. He taught the damn course and he sometimes had trouble with it. At least now he had an idea of where the students needed the most work before the test on Wednesday. The extra review would be good for all of them. And hey, maybe he could do some browsing online and try to find some review games. Those seemed to help when the kids were struggling with sentence structure.

Hizashi smiled as he tossed the empty soda can in the wastebasket by his desk. Everything would be fine. Class 1-A was one of the most promising groups of kids that UA had seen in years, and what they didn’t learn right away, they always managed to get eventually. He scribbled a little happy face on Ashido’s page (to complement the one she had doodled after her name), and set the sheet amongst the other graded assignments.

He casually looked over the next, slightly crumpled sheet in the stack. After a moment, he closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. Goddammit, Bakugo...

For the past three weeks, Bakugo had been turning in assignments that were only partially done. At first, it had just been a question or two left blank. Then five or six questions. Then entire sections.

This time, aside from his lazily scrawled name in the corner of the paper, Bakugo had left this entire paper blank.

Hizashi shoved his hand up under his glasses, trying in vain to rub away the headache this would doubtlessly bring on. He was so glad he’d taken out his hearing aids while he graded. Right now, the noise would not have helped. At all.

He marked a giant zero in the corner of the page, pressing so hard he was momentarily afraid he’d rip a hole in the paper. As he set Bakugo’s paper off to the side, his stomach clenched in hunger. This was as good a stopping point as any, he supposed. Time to find something to constitute dinner.

He padded down the hall and into the kitchen. Just as he was trying to decide if he felt motivated enough to go through the trouble of cooking vegetables and meat for some ramen, or just blasting it in the microwave and eating like a poor college kid, he spotted the pink bag on the counter, the words “Shrimp Chips” emblazoned on it in cheerful bubble letters. He lunged, quietly blessing Shouta and his pathological need to have a constant supply of garbage food in the apartment at all times as he tore into the foil bag with his teeth. He pulled out a handful and stuffed them into his mouth.

Something soft and fluffy snaked its way between his legs. Looking down, he saw Mame’s two giant green eyes staring up at him from the black void of her face, gazing longingly at the chip bag. Her fluffy tail swished back and forth lazily. She opened her mouth in what Hizashi assumed was a pleading mew. He smiled down at her and shook his head, moving his legs to sidestep her. Mame bounded away from him and jumped onto the nearby table, splaying herself out quite contentedly on the table in a pile of papers, discarded mail, and Hazashi’s school bag. She immediately rolled onto her back and stretched out a paw longingly. She then brought her paw back to her mouth, once, twice, three times.

She was signing “food”. And Shouta said you couldn’t teach a cat to sign.

Hizashi chuckled, swallowed, and then signed back, “First of all, child, you’re not even supposed to be up on the table.”

Mame blinked in response.

“Second, these are my chips. None for you. Shouta doesn’t want you eating anything but cat food anyway. He already feels bad when he has to explain to the vet why you’re so fat.”

Mame rolled back over, letting out a squeak of indignation, before stretching and jumping off the table. Unfortunately, her shifting weight jostled Hizashi’s bag, and before Hizashi could set the chips aside and catch it, everything inside had spilled out onto the floor. He tried to glare angrily at Mame, but she had suddenly become very interested in thoroughly cleaning her front paw. He supposed it didn’t matter. He could never stay mad at her anyway.

He brushed the chip dust off his hands and began to sort through the mess on the floor. Honestly, he’d needed to clean out this bag for a while. Its contents were a mess of lunch receipts and old notes he’d written to himself and playlist ideas for the radio show that had never fully come to fruition. As he crumpled up the trash in his hands, he uncovered his gradebook. He groaned slightly as he began to realize that meant he hadn’t recorded any of the worksheet scores yet, and he was already more than halfway through the pile. He’d have to go back and do them all again.

At least he’d caught himself. And he also had shrimp chips. That sort of softened the blow.

He gathered up the rest of the mess from his bag and put it on the table. He’d sort through it all before bed. Then he gathered up his gradebook, tucked the chips under his arm, grabbed another soda from the fridge, and walked back towards the bedroom.

He flipped open his gradebook with one hand, so he’d at least have it open to the right date by the time he sat down. It fell open to a page near the beginning of the semester. He was just about to shake the book to turn the pages (very nearly losing his underarm grip on his chips), when something caught his eye.

“Bakugo, Katsuki: 88%”

Huh.

His eyes drifted downward, to the next assignment he’d catalogued. An 87%.

He approached his desk, and he began arranging his things to his liking, but he never once took his eyes off the grade book. He scanned the next assignment. Bakugo had scored an 84%.

Hizashi sat down slowly, his chips and the rest of the papers forgotten. He turned the page in his gradebook. Bakugo’s next grade was an 89%.

The next was an 88%. Then a 90%, followed by an 85%. Another 87% and another 89%.

This didn’t make any sense. How could Bakugo start out with such high scores and then suddenly start turning in blank assignments?

He turned the page and got his answer. A 73% was the next grade he saw. It wasn’t exactly failing, but it was a dip in quality, jarring compared to the previous pages.

Maybe the blank assignments weren’t so sudden.

He continued to scan the page. The percentages hovered around the low seventies for a while. On the next page, they dipped into the sixties. Checking the dates, Hizashi saw that these grades began three weeks ago, right around the time Bakugo had started turning in the half-finished assignments.

The decline was steady, until Hizashi finally got to the last assignment he’d recorded. A 58%. A far cry from where they’d started.

His phone was in the corner, next to his hearing aids. He snatched it up and opened up his text thread with Shouta. His husband would be out patrolling right now, but it was still early, and Hizashi hadn’t gotten any breaking news updates on his phone. Hopefully, he wouldn’t catch Shouta at a bad time.

Quickly, he typed, Yo, have you heard anything from Cementoss or Ecto about Bakugo’s grades?

Shouta’s response was quick, taking a little more than a minute. Hizashi was the only person who could brag that Shouta had never left him on read in the entire time they’d known each other.

No. Why? Short and sweet. That was Sho for you.

I’m grading 1-A’s last assignment. Noticed something super weird.

Yeah?

So I’ve complained at you about the kid turning in unfinished work, right?

Many times. They’re enjoyable rants.

Before Hizashi could reply, Shouta sent another message. Do I need to talk to him again about getting his work in? Because I’m sensing the last talk didn’t stick.

Hizashi smiled and replied, Not sure yet. I looked at his grades from the beginning of the semester and they’re good. Not perfect, but good.

Hmm…

Then I started noticing him slipping. He was still handing in complete assignments, but he was getting more stuff wrong. Then he starts handing in this half-assed stuff and his grade just drops more. It’s weird.

What do you think is going on?

Dunno yet. That’s why I was asking if anyone else has said anything. If they had, I was thinking maybe we could have him talk to Hound Dog or something?

Like I said, haven’t heard anything from either of them. They’re not shy about telling me when someone is struggling.

It was true. Hizashi had never known either of his fellow teachers to turn away students who came to them for extra tutoring. And if the students wouldn’t come to them, they had no problem approaching them privately and gently insisting they should. There weren’t many students who would say no to a guy who looked like a walking corpse and someone who could make the parking lot swallow you up.

It just made everything more confusing. He couldn’t think of why Bakugo was doing so much worse in his class than any of the others. It couldn’t be because Bakugo particularly didn’t like him. Not that the kid was particularly fond of any of his teachers, but Hizashi had seen the way Bakugo behaved around people he genuinely hated, like poor Midoriya. That explosive resentment was a far cry from the casual annoyance Hizashi usually saw on Bakugo’s face when they were having a long lecture about diagramming sentences.

Then the word caught him. Explosive.

He thought of Bakugo during training, igniting the nitroglycerin-like sweat that poured off him, and making thundering explosions, loud enough to rattle windows and be heard for miles.

Hizashi’s gaze flicked up to his hearing aids, still at the corner of his desk. English had been a challenge for him because of them. Obviously, learning another language entailed being able to listen to it and pick up the various patterns, words, and grammar rules.

He picked up his pen and tapped it against the desk. Yes, English had been difficult for him, because he’d been deaf since birth. He knew that was the reason.

He could only imagine what it must be like for someone who doesn’t even realize something is wrong yet.

He tapped out a response to Shouta’s last text. I think I know what to do. I’ll explain when you get home. Love you xoxoxo.

Hizashi picked up Bakugo’s blank worksheet. Next to the zero, he wrote, much more lightly, “See me after class.” Then he underlined it. Three times.

------------

Hizashi kept his eyes trained on Bakugo as the rest of the class filed out of the room. He thought it pretty telling when the normally cocky little twerp was trying his damnedest to look everywhere but at him.

Finally, Bakugo stood up from his desk and approached the front of the room, hands deep in his pockets. As he did, Hizashu covertly touched the screen of his phone. The video he had queued up began, and a high-pitched whine filled the room. Even though his headphones cancelled out most of the feedback, it still made him wince as his hearing aids worked overtime to process the frequency. It was irritating, but he’d survive. He needed some proof.

“What do you want?” Bakugo muttered tersely.

Hizashi flicked his gaze down at his student’s pocket, where he’d stuffed the blank homework assignment Hizashi had handed back to him. As if sensing that Hizashi was looking, Bakugo crumpled the paper in his fist and shoved it further down.

“Look, I’ll do the stupid thing again if that’s what you want,” Bakugo said, a bit louder. Hizashi knew the kid was trying to intimidate him. He tried it with literally everyone who even looked at him funny.

Hizashi just sighed quietly and replied, “This isn’t about one assignment, Bakugo. It’s about the last several assignments.”

Very few of his students had ever heard Hizashi use his “authority” voice, as Shouta called it. Hizashi honestly didn’t like using it. Most of the teachers in UA were some form of intimidating, and he didn’t want to be that way. He wanted his students to feel like he was a friend, rather than an authority figure. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know when it was time to straighten up and start putting on a teacher voice.

At least the tone had gotten Bakugo to stop looking at the floor and move his eyes somewhere in Hizashi’s general direction.

“It’s not my fault your class is a waste of my time,” the kid muttered.

“Then you should have no trouble explaining to me why your average score on my homework was an 87% until recently.”

Bakugo didn’t answer at first, but Hizashi could practically see the wheels turning in the kid’s head, trying to offer up some angry response that would hopefully scare this prying teacher off.

The high-frequency playing on Hizashi’s phone droned away. It was starting to make his skin crawl. Bakugo didn’t show any signs that he even noticed it.

“Guess your teaching bored me so much it made me drop a few IQ points,” Bakugo offered up weakly. Once again, his gaze was firmly fixed on the floor.

Hizashi took a deep breath, and said, “Bakugo, how long have you been having problems with your hearing?”

That really got Bakugo’s attention. His red eyes contracted to pinpricks, and he straighten his whole body to look Hizashi square in the face. “What the hell are you talking about?” he shouted. His words echoed through the empty classroom. “I can hear just fine!”

“Uh huh,” Hizashi said, picking up his phone and showing it to Bakugo. “Then why couldn’t you hear this high frequency that’s been going for the past few minutes?”

For a split second, Bakugo looked at Hizashi like he’d slapped him. Then the familiar rage contorted his features again, and he shouted, “You’re a liar! You didn’t have anything playing on that piece of shit!”

Hizashi held the phone out to him. “Check if you don’t believe me. But blow it up, and I’ll have you expelled faster than you can blame Midoriya.”

Bakugo swiped the phone from Hizashi’s hand and looked down at the screen, studied the video of the high frequency. He tapped play on the screen, and instantly, the dreadful noise filled the room again. Hizashi actually flinched a bit at the renewed onslaught.

He watched his student stare in silent confusion at the video for a whole thirty seconds before Bakugo spoke up again. “I...it...this stupid video doesn’t even have any sound,” he grumbled, thrusting the phone back towards Hizashi.

Hizashi took the phone, mercifully muted the video, and stuffed it back into his jacket pocket. “Now, back to my original question: how long have you been having problems with your hearing?”

“I already told you, I don’t have any stupid problems!”

“Then you’re definitely gonna need a better excuse to explain away these half-assed assignments,” Hizashi retorted firmly. A brief flicker of confusion crossed Bakugo’s face, and Hizashi guessed this was the first time a teacher had actually sworn in front of him. Hizashi took advantage of the confusion to add, “I talked with Aizawa and the other teachers. My class is the only one where you pull this stunt. Incidentally, math and literature are classes that don’t revolve around being able to hear what your teacher is talking about very well. Unlike, say, English.”

Bakugo merely growled.

“Maybe you’ve noticed ringing in your ears? Or that sound is fading in and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you?!” Bakugo’s sudden shout filled the room. Those red pinpricks were back on Hizashi, full of fight and fire. He had no doubt that Bakugo’s palms were roughly two seconds from starting to pop. “If you can’t get it past your stupid, gel-encrusted hair and through your thick skull, then maybe you’re to one having problems with your hearing!”

Hizashi couldn’t help it - he started to laugh. He’d been prepared for Bakugo to insult and demean him (the crack about his hair was almost a given), but this was just too good. And the look on the poor kid’s face - torn between unbridled confusion and an animalistic urge to jump the desk separating them and claw Hizashi’s eyes out - only made him laugh harder.

Finally, Bakugo barked, “The hell is so funny?!”

Hizashi simply reached up and slid his headphones off, being sure to turn his head slightly so Bakugo could see the thin wires running from the insert to the black processor behind his ear.

“I kinda hope I’ve got a problem with my hearing,” he said. “Otherwise I paid through the nose for the world’s ugliest jewelry.”

Bakugo didn’t reply. He just kept staring - gaping really - at Hizashi’s ears.

Hizashi set his headphones down on his desk, and said, “I’ve been deaf since I was born, but I’ve only had hearing aids since I was about six. I wasn’t kidding when I said they were expensive.”

No reply.

“The doctor who fitted me with my first pair as a kid told my parents that’s probably why I cried so loud. I literally couldn’t hear myself and stop.”

Still no reply.

“The headphones serve a double purpose. They protect my hearing aids against damage, and have a backup power source for them if the batteries ever die while I’m fighting villains or helping in a rescue.”

Silence.

“Bakugo?”

“...you mean to tell me those stupid headphones you wear actually have a purpose?”

Hizashi laughed out loud. “Excuse you, but those things are the height of fashion and function. At least that’s what Hage pays me to say.”

Was that a flicker of a smile Hizashi saw on Bakugo’s face? He decided not to press his luck by asking. Instead he said, “Now, will you answer my question or not?”

Bakugo chewed his lower lip a bit. Another beat of silence passed, and then he finally grumbled, “A while.”

“I’d ask you why you didn’t say anything sooner, but I already know why.”

“Screw you.”

“So you’ve noticed some symptoms?”

“...yeah. It mostly started as ringing.”

“Started?”

“Yeah, it’s worse now. Now sometimes people will just...cut out when they’re talking to me. If I’m not looking directly at them, I miss what they say.”

“And I’m not gonna ask you to learn lip-reading just to get by in English class. It’s a pain, trust me.”

“You can read lips?”

“Yep. I sign too. Since I went through a chunk of my life not being able to hear anything, it can be a little overwhelming. I sometimes take them out when I’m at home. Or in a boring staff meeting.”

That one actually got Bakugo to laugh. Or snort, really. But at least it was something other than confusion or fury.

Hizashi smiled and said, “But you’ve been able to hear your entire life, and if it’s caught early, you might not need as elaborate a set-up as mine.” He took a business card from his back pocket and held it out to Bakugo. “This is for a woman named Nanama Sakakibara. She’s one of the best audiologists in Japan. I want you to think about seeing her. Also, I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure that your explosions are what’s damaging your hearing, so maybe think about hitting up Power Loader for some ear protection in that costume of yours.”

Bakugo gave him a stiff nod, but eyed the card like it might bite him. He flicked his glance back up to Hizashi’s. “Do I have to take it?”

Hizashi’s smile morphed into a cat-like grin, and he said, “No, of course you don’t have to. I can always keep it to give to your mom when I set up an emergency parent-teacher conference to discuss your near-failing English grade.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes at him, then silently snatched the card from Hizashi’s hand. “You’re a dick,” he grumbled.

Hizashi merely smiled wider and picked up his headphones, sliding them back into place over his ears. He slipped back into his announcer voice and said, “I’m a dick because I care, sparky.” He gave Bakugo a double finger-gun, and added, “Now amscray before Eraser gets suspicious about why you aren’t at training yet.”

Bakugo began to move toward the door. Hizashi found it pretty promising when he didn’t immediately shove the card into his pocket, with his incomplete assignment.

When Bakugo reached the door, he stopped, one hand on the door frame, his shoulders tense and his head ducked down.

A beat of silence.

Then: “Thanks or whatever.”

And suddenly Bakugo was gone.

Hizashi shook his head. The gratitude was more than he’d expected. At least it was better than holes blown in the walls.

[the-quiet-winds]

Make a Move Just to Stay in the Game (part one)

oh look, it’s jules, back on her au.

what can i say, i love this thing so much. @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts and i have worked so hard on it and it’s practically took on a life of its own, so here’s installment three, a bit more soft, but there is definitely some not soft in there too. featuring awesome new character!

i’m going to link my masterpost, so if you’re new, you can go back and read the whole au from the start, which is called hold onto me, you’re all i have.

so yeah! this one is four parts, all a bit short bc otherwise they’d be really long.

[Part 1: Feelin’ My World Start to Turn]

as ward of the queen, katherine was now above her former colleagues in rank, which brought its own challenges and benefits in turn. she still spends most of her time with jane, but she suddenly realises she has a lot more free time where she doesn’t have anything to do now her lady-in-waiting duties had been removed. what she also realises, however, is that she’s rather unprepared for royal life. she’s not the only person who’s noticed, either; on one day, she overhears two courtiers saying some less than pleasant things about her, mostly along the lines that she’s a stupid, uneducated girl who doesn’t know the first thing about being nobility. it hurts to hear those things about her and it sticks in her mind that evening as her and jane sit by the fireplace, jane embroidering and katherine lost in her own world.

“mum?” katherine says very suddenly, and jane glances over at her.

“yes, love?”

katherine pauses a moment before speaking hesitantly. “what kinds of things are ladies of my rank supposed to know?”

jane was obviously not expecting that question. she looks taken aback for a moment, before her brows furrow together and she looks off at the wall.

“well princesses generally have very well-rounded educations.” she thinks for a moment. “arithmetic, history, studies of trade and geography, a language of some sort...” she trails off. “why do you ask, love?”

katherine looks ashamed, but can’t bring herself to lie. “just some things some people were saying earlier.” she shrugs. “that i wasn’t smart enough, stuff like that.” she tries to sound nonchalant, but the words really did hurt. she wanted to be enough for jane.

“oh, love,” jane frowns. “you’re definitely smart enough-”

“but i don’t know a lot of those things,” katherine admits. “i don’t know any other languages, i barely studied any geography, and i’ve never had an arithmetic lesson in my life.” she shrugs slightly, looking embarrassed. “they only taught us to read and write, and things like dancing and-” she stops before she can mention music; it’s not something she wants to think about right now. “there’s so much I don’t know.”

jane can’t entirely argue with katherine. she knows that the girl didn’t have the easiest go, but she never contemplated katherine’s education, or lack thereof.

“what about a tutor, love?” jane suggests. “i’ll bring in some one in to teach you these things. there are plenty of noblemen that would-“

she sees katherine’s face change in that instant, from a curious excitement to immediate fear. it takes her a moment, but she works out the cause.

“or a noblewoman?”

jane’s last words almost take katherine by surprise, as if she hadn’t realised that could be an option. “do... do you think there’s an educated woman who’d want to teach me?” she asks, slightly shyly. jane nods.

“i’m sure there are. I can ask around; I know several of the court have connections to educated circles, and i’m sure i could arrange a tutor to come to court to teach you - if that’s something you’d like, of course. it’s completely up to you, love.”

katherine smiles, not all that confidently but smiles nonetheless. “i’d like that a lot,” she admits shyly. jane grins brightly.

“of course, love, i’ll look into it.”

jane does her thorough research, and one name comes up again and again, one catherine parr.

catherine parr is a humanist, a woman who has written her own book, and by all accounts has a kind but scholarly temperament. from her research, jane discovers that catherine parr and her husband had fallen out of favour with the king a few years back, but recently had been forgiven. by lucky coincidence her husband, John Neville (or Latimer, as most referred to him as) was at court visiting and jane manages to get a letter to him, asking for the services of his wife to tutor lady katherine, ward to the queen consort of england. the letter was more of a formality; with the latimers only just coming back into favour, they must have thought it would be unwise of them to refuse jane’s request, although jane of course wouldn’t do anything to them if they did refuse.

catherine, upon meeting the ward, gave off an air of confidence, unwavering in her sense of self.

she doesn’t even curtsy to katherine.

she bows. long and low.

“it’s an honor to meet you, lady katherine,” she says formally yet genuinely.

katherine looks confused for a moment, before returning a curtsey and smiling slightly. “likewise, lady parr.”

parr waves a hand. “no formalities needed, please.”

katherine smiles wider. she likes her new tutor already.

their first lesson is the day after parr arrives at court. katherine is slightly nervous but mostly excited; she’s always liked learning, and she’s determined to prove to everyone else and herself that she’s smart enough to be good enough. parr greets her with a smile, sat on one side of a small table, and katherine takes the chair opposite her. there’s some books stacked on the floor next to the table and an ink pot and quill next to several sheets of paper.

“today is just finding out what you know, to give me a better idea of where to start off,” parr explains. “please, remember i’m not here to judge you, and if you do not know something then you shouldn’t feel ashamed. that’s what these lessons are for, after all.”

katherine shyly nods. the edge of parr’s lips twitch up in a half-smile as katherine picks up the quill and looks to her earnestly.

“tell me all that you know about christopher columbus’ endeavor to the new world,” parr instructs. she picks up a book and begins to thumb through as katherine writes as much as she can. she fills just over one sheet before she’s finished, striking a line across and looking back to parr.

“explain what you can about the salt trade.”

this question katherine can hardly manage a few lines on; the education she’d had never taught her anything about trade. that was for men, and they hadn’t thought it necessary to tell a girl anything about it. she desperately tries to drum up anything else she could possibly think of on it but gives up with a sigh,  cheeks flushing slightly. to her surprise, parr doesn’t comment, simply asking her to write a list of any wars the english had taken part in. question after question parr asks her until the paper has been filled up and katherine’s hand is starting to cramp from writing. parr takes the papers and offers katherine a kind smile.

“thank you. you may take a break while I read your responses, or if you’d prefer you can get a start on reading this.” she takes a book from the stack on the floor and places it in front of katherine. ‘UTOPIA - by thomas more’ the book reads, and katherine flips it open curiously.

“i wouldn’t worry about the more technical elements of more’s prose yet,” parr tells her. “the first read through i just want you to understand the basics.”

“um,” katherine interrupts quietly, blushing bright red. “i’m sorry, i can’t read this.”

the book was all in a different language. katherine wasn’t sure, but she’d guess it was latin. parr looks slightly surprised.

“i wasn’t told you didn’t know latin,” she says, and katherine internally berates herself for seeming stupid in front of her new tutor, but then parr smiles. “oh, you have a wonderful time ahead of you. latin is hard work, but you’ll learn to translate the most beautiful works of poetry and prose. i just have to adjust my lesson plans slightly.”

with their remain few hours before breaking for lunch, parr begins the latin lessons. she finds herself holding back many surprised smiles as just how quickly katherine is picking up the language, finding verb conjugations and basic sentence structure a piece of cake.

just after noon jane quietly knocks and pokes her head around the door. “is this a bad time?” she asks, seeing both women hunched over their papers.

parr looks up and smiles. “not at all, your majesty, come in.”

she crosses to katherine, who had yet to look up from her concentrated writing. she jumps slightly when jane lays a gentle arm around her shoulders, but quickly relaxes into the hold.

“how goes it, love?” jane asks, kissing katherine’s forehead.

katherine practically beams with a sort of quiet pride. “good, i think!” she sends a quick glance to parr for confirmation and parr nods, laughing slightly.

“more than good, i’d say. lady katherine has a remarkable aptitude for languages, your majesty. i’ve been thoroughly impressed.”

katherine lights up at the praise and jane grins at her, pride welling up in her chest.

“that’s fantastic, love.”

parr finishes jotting down a few notes before setting down her quill and shaking out her wrists.

“that should do it for now, lady katherine. we’ll reconvene in one hour?”

jane looks at her questioningly. “won’t you be joining us for lunch, lady parr?”

parr turns confused. “i suppose i was under the impression that-“

“oh, dear,” jane laughs slightly, “you simply must have lunch with us, right kat?” the girl nods enthusiastically, standing up. jane smiles again. “besides, i’d like a full report on how my little scholarly lady is doing.” she nudges katherine lightly in the ribs.

parr smiles gently. “well, in that case, i humbly accept your invitation.”

“wonderful,” jane claps her hands together. “i’m ready to hear about everything you’ve been working on.”

during lunch, katherine is incredibly chatty, practically unable to stop talking about the things she had learnt in the past few hours. she proudly recites some verb conjugations for jane, who offers a round of applause at the end, laughing slightly at her daughter’s childish glee at learning something new. parr chips in every so often to remind katherine of something or to voice her own praises.

jane feels pride rise in her very quickly, leaving her heart so full she can barely stand it.

parr excuses herself a few minutes early to get everything ready for the afternoon, and, as soon as she’s gone, jane pulls katherine into her arms, lightly kissing her temple.

“i’m already so proud of you, love,” she murmurs. “i know you’ll just continue to impress me.”

katherine smiles into her shoulder and hugs jane tightly. “thank you,” she says softly, “for giving me the chance.”

jane pulls back slightly, resting her hands on katherine’s shoulders. “and how are you finding your new tutor? she seems very nice.”

“she’s amazing!” katherine grins. “she didn’t get annoyed at me once and she explains everything so well.”

it warms jane’s heart to hear that katherine likes her new tutor, and it amazes her how much difference jane can see from the shy little girl who became her lady-in-waiting several months ago.

“i’m glad to hear that, love,” jane says quietly.

the grand clock in the corner chimes one strong note and falls silent, and katherine looks at jane almost a little sadly.

“back to it, kat,” jane gently instructs. she kisses katherine’s forehead. the girl had grown like a weed since they had first met; katherine used to barely hit jane’s nose, now they were exactly eye level. too much longer and katherine would be taller than jane herself.

she’s snapped out of her reverie by katherine saying goodbye. jane smiles, squeezing both of her hands gently.

“go keep making me proud, love.”

katherine blushes and dashed from the room, not wanting to keep parr waiting too long.

the woman is there waiting at the table when she enters.

“ready to continue?”

[killervibe]

She’s Clueless, Cupid

On Monday, February 11th, Ralph created the Valentine’s Day Lottery. Cute and inconsequential at first glance, as Ralph’s terrible ideas always were, this time the Valentine’s Day Lottery in fact seemed really not so bad. After some convincing. “Secret Valentine’s Day Santa!” Ralph said simply, standing in the middle of the Cortex and trying to change all the blank stares. “It’s team bonding guys. With all this Cicada stuff we need some mushy gushy cheer—And I actually have friends now to do something like this with.” “....Secret Valentine’s Day Santa? That doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.” Ralph rolled his shoulders back, unscathed by catty remarks. “You think of something better then.” Cisco threw his pen in the air. “Won’t take long.” “—Anyways,” Ralph continued, “Ralphy’s on a budget so why don’t we keep this easy? We all draw a name out of a hat.” He pointed at Sherloque and before he could protest Ralph snatched Sherloque’s black hat off his head with his stretchy hand. “Whoever you get you write them a Valentine’s Day card. Type it up, 12 point font, single spaced, Times New Roman. Make it meaningful but don’t sign your name.” Iris frowned. “Why not?” “Mystery,” Sherloque mused. “J’aime ça.” “Exactly Shirley. At the end of the day we have to figure out who wrote the card.” “Valentine’s Day Lottery!” Cisco exclaimed suddenly, his thrown pen clattering to the ground, forgotten. “That’s it. That’s the name.” Barry shrugged, thinking it over. “That doesn’t sound so bad. Could be fun?” Caitlin smiled, “It would be very sweet to do, Ralph. We could all do with a little positivity. I say why not?” Ralph grinned at Caitlin and gave her a high five. “See? Caitlin Snow, everyone. She’s the best. A literal angel. Thanks girl.” Caitlin smiled at the praise, sharing it with Cisco, who was ready with a wink. She rolled her eyes playfully. “No problem.” Ralph urged them all to tear off pieces of paper to write their names so they could draw right away. Sherloque, Barry, Cisco, Iris, Caitlin and Ralph all participated, stuffing their names in Sherloque’s hat. One by one they were then called up by Ralph to pick the lottery, closing their eyes and looking away as they grabbed one of their friend’s names. The silence was slightly awkward as everyone fumbled around each other, now painfully aware they all had to keep a secret, knowing they’ve never been particularly good at it. Once Caitlin slipped her lottery into her lab coat, the very last crumpled name in the hat, the show was over and they all dispelled to continue working on tracking Cicada’s next move. ♡ Cisco got Iris. He folded the paper into his fist and walked out, heading to his workshop. “Hey man, wait up.” Cisco turned to see Barry jogging after him. “Who’d you get?” Cisco stared at him blankly, but Barry continued, nudging his shoulder with his sharp elbow. “C’mon, man. Who’d you get?” “This isn’t how the game is supposed to work. What if I have you?” “Do you?” Cisco crossed his arms. “What’s the point?” Barry looked a little smug. “Well, I was hoping to pick Iris but I have Caitlin—“ Before Barry could finish that sentence, Cisco snatched the scrap of paper out of Barry’s hand, throwing his own at him. Barry looked down at Iris’s scrawl and smirked. “Glad to do business with you.” “How did you know?” “I didn’t.” Barry sped off, not giving Cisco any time to respond. Barry could be weird like that, especially when it came to Iris. But Cisco didn’t care this time, Barry’s quirkiness working to his benefit. He opened the little paper with Caitlin’s name on it and smiled to himself. He tucked it gently into his pocket and began whistling a popular song on the radio. ♡ On Tuesday, February 12th, Team Flash had a completely, regular, ordinary day. As regular as Team Flash could get, all of them sneezing, wheezing and itching irritated eyes from excess pollen. The flower power meta they defeated had germinated at least three million dandelion seeds into Central City’s atmosphere and Caitlin was still picking fluff out of her hair hours later. Cisco was laughing, watching Ralph’s allergies making his nose stretch five feet as Barry sneezed repetitively, zig zag crashing into furniture from the force of it. Cisco hopped off his desk when Caitlin groaned, exasperated. “Just wash it,” he suggested, flicking more of it off her scalp. “Or not. I have to admit, it’s pretty adorable. Caitlin Snow, flower child.” She looked up at him and scowled. “It is not. It’s ridiculous, is what it is. And I just washed it this morning.” “So that’s why it smells so good,” he mused. He took another sniff. “Or maybe it’s the lily petals you’ve still got stuck there.” “Nooo,” she whined. “I thought I picked those out.” “Let me help.” She passed him her brush and he stood behind her, taking her silky hair and brushing it out smoothly. Caitlin leaned her elbow against her desk as Cisco played hairdresser, relaxing like a petted cat. It was lovely, and her attention faded, drifting up into the clouds in a mindless haze. “You know what you should do?” he asked, blowing more fluff into her face. “That you don’t anymore?” She wrinkled her nose, breaking out of the spell. “What?” “Wear ponytails.” “I wear ponytails,” she argued, amused. He ran his fingers through her hair. “But not enooooooough. It’ll solve your issue. Everyone knows you tie your hair back in a fight.” He sounded very insistent, so she satisfied him. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Ralph staggered forward then, miserable, and begged Caitlin for some softer tissues. She asked Ralph to hand her the purse she left in the corner of the Cortex as Cisco kept picking twigs out of her hair. He plopped them into the little garbage bin she had sitting on her lap. “Wait…” she said, after noticing a pattern to his light tugs. She tilted her head up to quirk an upside down eyebrow at him, “Are you braiding it?” “Shhhhhhhhh. It’s soft,” Cisco shushed her, tapping her head back upright so that he wouldn’t be making his braid lopsided. Ralph passed her the bag and she rummaged for the Puffs with extra lotion, finding it in an interior zipper. “There you go,” she smiled, handing it to him. Ralph moaned through his obnoxiously nasal tone. “You’re a godsend.” She wiped at her watery eyes herself, then looked around at her friends all suffering, cringing when Barry sneeze-slammed particularly violently into the wall, glad that she gave him elbow and knee pads to soften any blows. “Cisco,” she asked slowly. “Why aren’t you affected?” “I was wearing my Vibe goggles, remember?” he answered. “....And antihistamines.” They all had antihistamine. That didn’t add up. She narrowed her eyes, even if he couldn’t see it. “...How many?” “Too many,” Cisco mumbled into her hair. That explained his funny giddiness. He was drugged up on Allegra. “Cisco! That’s not safe!” “Not the whole bottle,” he was quick to defend. “Just...Uh, almost half of the spare you keep in your cabinet?” She tried not to panic, wondering if she had the number for poison control. She racked her brain for intoxication symptoms associated with over-the-counter drug abuse. “Do you feel drowsy? Dizzy? Blurry vision?” “Not yet!” he replied rather cheerfully, but she couldn’t help notice the hoarseness to his voice, a symptom of dry throat. And a weird side effect of allergy medicine. Caitlin crossed and uncrossed her legs, shifting the bin on her lap, and made herself roll her eyes. She considered his answer. He did seem to be fine for now and she knew he would never lie to her about something serious if she asked, not after what they went through with the shrapnel in his hands. He probably wasn’t in any immediate danger. “So, hey, what are you doing on Thursday?” Caitlin felt like laughing, confused by the random question. Drugged Cisco was just like Drunk Cisco: Not making any sense. “Um, going to work. Like every day?” “Anything special?” She frowned. Oh, that was right. It was Valentine’s Day. She shook her head, feeling his nails move with it. “You would have already known about it if I did. Aren’t you done, yet?” Cisco laughed, but didn’t stop with the brush. “Oh, yeah. I was done ten minutes ago.” Ralph interjected from his corner. “Caitlin, you’re going to the Lottery Reveal! I’m making it a whole party and everything.” Caitlin dropped the bin back to the floor and folded her hands neatly. “That’s what I’m doing, then.” Her eyes trailed across the room, watching Barry catch his breath in the corner, finally calming down from his bout. “What about you?” she tried to say casually. “Do you have special plans?” “Yes, I do,” Cisco confirmed. Caitlin lost some of her smile, and she swallowed, looking at her nails. “That’s nice. I hope it goes well.” “So do I,” he said roughly, sounding sleepy. He placed his palm at the back of Caitlin’s neck. The room got too hot, and Caitlin was worried that Cisco might actually be overdosing after all, so she got off her chair. The conversation switched over to Cicada. Caitlin was relieved. Ralph and Barry talked strategy as she took Cisco to the Med Bay to check him over, flicking her braided hair over her shoulder as she led the way. ♡ On Thursday, February 14th, Caitlin found her Valentine’s Day lottery card on her desk. She opened it, read it, and sat down heavily in her office chair, nearly moved to tears. She read it again, feeling tingles all the way down to her toes. She curled her fingers into the letter protectively, like if she didn’t cling to it tightly it would grow wings and fly away. When Caitlin picked Sherloque, she decided on giving him a nice simple letter of appreciation with a special touch of writing it in French. She put some effort into it, specifically a lot of time conjugating verbs she forgot had such complicated endings, but it was simply a cute card that took her less than half an hour to finish. This was something else entirely. What she got wasn’t a Valentine's Day card. It was a masterpiece. Cisco walked into her lab, first knocking on her door lightly. He gasped, “A ponytail!” Caitlin’s free hand flew to her head, having forgotten she’d followed his styling advice. “Yeah,” she said distractedly, still feeling flooded with sentiment, staring down at the Times New Roman font, blinking away the blurriness of her emotional tears. “You look happy,” he commented, “You must’ve gotten a nice letter.” Caitlin looked up at him, a wobbly smile spreading across her face. She brushed away a stray tear, wondering why he was stretching. “I did. It was lovely, and, poignant, and, um, very inspiring.” “...Inspiring?” His arms dropped to his sides. Caitlin nodded. “Do you think Iris wrote it to empower me? That’s so sweet. I know we’re supposed to wait until the end of the day, but this letter is so beautiful, I should thank her right away.” She stood up, gathering her purse and throwing out the waste bin from her lab into the bio-sink. Cisco grabbed her wrist. “What makes you say it was Iris?” Caitlin thought about it. “Well, she’s the writer, she’s the one who could compose something as eloquent and powerful as that.” She squeezed his arm as she passed him, rushing off to go find her. She missed the way Cisco’s confused smile froze in place, how he wrapped his arms around himself and frowned very deeply. ♡ Caitlin belatedly realized she should have asked Cisco to breach her to Iris’s newspaper office when she hit traffic south of Killmare street. Parking was tight, but she found a spot right around the corner. She ran up the steps two-by-two and burst into Iris’s still pretty baren brand new office, giving her a giant hug. “Woah, Caitlin.” Iris closed her laptop, and awkwardly patted her back. “What’s wrong?” “What’s wrong?” Caitlin repeated, stepping back. “Nothing’s wrong! The Valentine’s Day Lottery! That was the most thoughtful, caring thing anyone has ever said to me in a very long time!” Iris brushed some hair out of her eyes, still caught off guard. “You need to rewind a bit. I’m really confused.” Caitlin swatted Iris’s shoulder, “Oh, come on, Ralph’s game will be over in a few hours anyway. No need to play dumb.” “I’m not playing dumb, Caitlin. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Caitlin’s smile fell off her face, realizing Iris wasn’t lying. “...You didn’t pick me for the lottery?” Iris shook her head. “No.” Caitlin didn’t understand. “But you’re the journalist. I thought...” She trailed off, frowning a little, looking out the wide window. She could see the roof of Star Labs from here. Her hand went to her peacoat jacket and held on tightly to the folder paper. Iris tapped her polished desk with her manicured nails, clearing some cluttered police report copies about the murder of Grace Gibbons’s parents out of the way. “Show me the card.” Caitlin didn’t exactly want to, now that she knew it wasn’t written by Iris. Those words were for her eyes only. And whoever gave them to her. But Iris was the investigative journalist, and she was her closest woman friend. She’d probably be able to help figure out who it belonged to. Caitlin pulled it out of her pocket. She watched as Iris scanned it, lazily at first, but then she scooted her chair in, leaning closer to the paper with focus. “What?” Caitlin asked her, when Iris returned it looking a little flushed. “Honey, this is a love letter. Read it again.” “What? No, it isn’t!” “Caitlin. That was more heartfelt than my own wedding vows.” She stared down at the words on the page, going over it again. Iris was right, and Caitlin began to startlingly realize that she was very mistaken in believing that ‘inspiring’ was the most appropriate adjective to describe what was in her hands. Every sentence Caitlin first interpreted as purely friendly was suddenly not so, each word, each phrase dipped with passion, longing, and a deeply intimate tenderness. It was romantic. Caitlin felt the ground tilt beneath her feet. “But nobody on Team Flash is in love with me!” Caitlin cried, starting to feel a little hysterical. How was this possible? Barry and Iris were happily married, Sherloque only fell in love with the same woman over and over again and— “Ralph!” she exclaimed out loud, then recoiled, horrified. “Oh, god.” Iris blinked. “Um, you think it’s Ralph?” Caitlin saw the last twenty months or so flash before her eyes. All of the creepy flirting about her measurements before he shaped up, his checking up on her, the advice he kept giving her. In fact, he was very blunt about his crush on her Frost. He was the one who found her father’s faked death certificate unprompted. Caitlin covered her hand with her mouth, he even went with her to go visit her mother. “It has to be! He called me an angel on Monday. Oh my gosh. And — And a godsend on Tuesday!” Iris opened her mouth, then closed it. “Um,” she said again. “You don’t like Ralph, do you?” Caitlin’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Iris!” Iris held her hands up defensively, “Just checking! What are you going to do?” “I don’t know,” Caitlin said as she paced the floor. She checked her watch. Screw the sulphate fusions Barry asked her to do today, her Cicada plans have now been officially thrown out the window. “What do you think I should do?” Iris opened her laptop again, booting the system. “I dooon’t knooow,” Iris drawled. “Well, that’s not helpful!” Iris turned to Caitlin. “I’m sorry, Caitlin. I appreciate you coming here and for this chat, I do, but considering I’m not a prodigy genius or have any superspeed, I’m going to need some time to piece together my next article before we congregate back at Star Labs for the Lottery Reveal.” Caitlin looked around the new space, becoming self-aware. What Iris said was true. She just flew into Iris’s work office uninvited, interrupting her while she was busy. She picked her purse back up from the floor. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll go back to Star Labs.” “Don’t be, I hope you figure it out soon. I’ll see you later.” Caitlin threw a thanks over her shoulder, and hurried her way out. ♡ She almost bulldozed over Cisco in the hallway on her way in, distracted in her haste, thinking of ways to firmly reject Ralph without hurting his feelings. She tripped into him, and he held her steady as she teetered in her heels. “Oh, there you are. You okay?” She looked into his warm familiar eyes, feeling relief, so glad to have found him. “You have to help me!” Cisco was still holding her as he answered, listening intently. “With what?” “You need to help me turn Ralph down!” “What.” It came out all in one whooshed breath, not even a question. Bland. She veered him to the right so she could explain, pressing the hidden switch that unlocked the Time Vault. “Ralph is in love with me,” she hissed, her ponytail whipping violently behind her as she gripped Cisco’s arm. Cisco bristled. “He better not be.” Caitlin didn’t hear that, too busy trying not to panic. Cisco ran a hand through his hair, getting stressed by Caitlin’s franticness. “Why are you freaking out?” “Because I don’t love Ralph, Cisco!” He fidgeted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Okay. Good to know... And why exactly do you think Ralph is in love with you? Did he tell you that?” “Yes!” Cisco grew quiet, “He did?” Something dark washed over his expression, his gaze said something Caitlin couldn’t quite understand. She could hardly comprehend how Ralph fell for her either, but he wasn’t the devil, there was no need for Cisco to amass pitchforks and rouse an angry mob. Though she could see why he might want to. Hunter and Julian ended terribly the moment love confessions started pouring out, but they both had red flags about them they should’ve seen from miles away, and Ralph, the reformed Ralph, hasn’t ever given them any reason to worry. “Well, not exactly,” she admitted. “Not directly. But his language, his words. And once Iris mentioned the love letter I started to think about Sherloque and his doppleganger ex-wives. I pieced it together after that.” Cisco leaned against the silver wall of the Time Vault, waiting for Caitlin to finish rambling. “Take a breath, Caitlin. Start from the beginning.” She did, exhaling deeply. “I went to Iris. She didn’t write it. The Valentine’s Day card. She said it was a love letter.” Cisco let out an “Ahhhh,” understanding her, now. “You think Ralph wrote you a love letter.” “I know, I know, it’s crazy,” she wrigned her hands. “How am I going to tell him I don’t return his feelings nicely?” He snorted, “It doesn’t have to be nice. Just tell him no and get on your way.” “I don’t want to crush him, Cisco! Not on Valentine’s Day. He’s sensitive. This is probably why he came up with this idea in the first place. Think about it. He wanted a way to be able to confess his feelings anonymously. This was the perfect set up to do that. And he was the one holding the hat. Maybe he never put my name in it.” “Hey, hey,” he said, not liking the way she was biting her nails with worry. If she conspired any more she might start linking this to illuminati. “Don’t stress, okay? Talk to Ralph. He’s a big boy, he can take it.” She nodded, looking up at him through her lashes when he tucked a flyaway hair behind her ear, comforted as always by Cisco’s encouragement. He always believed in her. “Yeah?” Cisco pushed himself off the wall and opened the door. “Absolutely.” “Will you come with me?” Cisco made a face. “Oh, Caitlin. I would. But I have to work on the blueprints for the reverse dagger. I think this is something you need to do alone.” He rubbed her shoulder affectionately, his hand lingering there for an extra moment. “Hey, Caitlin,” he said softly. She met his gaze, wondering why he sounded a little forlorn. “Yes?” He gave her a small smile. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Caitlin bit her lip, watching him breach away before she could say it in return. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Cisco,” she mumbled quietly to herself, alone in the hallway. She straightened up, squaring her shoulders, and ignored the dread settling in her stomach like stones. ♡ Ralph was in the lounge, decorating for the Lottery Reveal. She walked in slowly, leaning her elbow against the counter of the island, watching him stretch his arm up to stick heart balloons to the ceiling. “Who do you think gave you your card?” He spun around, not expecting to see her there. “Hi, Caitlin. That’s a nice sweater. Dressed for the occasion, I see.” She looked down at her red sweater dress. Yes, she thought so too this morning. Ralph had always complimented her style. It used to make Caitlin feel nice. Now it made her nervous. “I dunno,” he continued, answering her question. “I was thinking it was Barry, but now I think it might be Iris. Does she make a lot of grammar mistakes?” “You’re asking me if the one person out of our friend group who has a degree in journalism can spell?” “Well, when you put it like that…” He chuckled. “I guess it must be Barry then.” He stuck the last inflated balloon from the batch and threw an empty plastic bag into the recycling. “Did you know Star Labs has a bunch of Valentine’s Day decor in the storage room? I only had to buy the balloons.” “H.R,” Caitlin reminisced, remembering he was before Ralph’s time. That was the last time they did anything like this, even though that was for his eccentric Friends Day. It was a pretty similar concept. H.R. even made them all cards. She thought H.R. and Ralph would have gotten along. “Huh? Star Labs Human Resources?” “No no. A man we used to work with. That was his name.” “Oh. Okay.” Caitlin swallowed. Was that jealousy? She winced at what was to follow. She really really hated deliberately causing people pain. She stared at her own hands, unable to look him in the face. “Look, Ralph—“ “Do you mind holding this for me?” It was a red streamer. She took it hesitantly, walking to the corner of the room he wanted her to hang it up. He unravelled the rest, going to the opposite end. It said ‘be mine be mine be mine be mine be mine be mine’ on it and Caitlin prayed this wasn’t some sort of subtext. “Ralph,” she found herself saying, pinning the streamer to the wall. “You’ve become a good man, and a great friend. I am very proud of you.” “I—Wow—“ “—And I’m so flattered that you think I’m breathtakingly beautiful, I really am. Your words touched my heart. But I don’t have feelings for you and I never will. I’m sorry.” The streamer fell to the floor between them, slipping out of Ralph’s extended hand. He stared at her with his mouth hanging open. She left the streamer half taped up, walking to him. She took his hand after hesitating, unsure if he could handle her touch. “Ralph, please forgive me. I know how it feels to love someone who doesn’t love you back the way you want.” He looked at their joint hands and pulled his away. “I��m not in love with you, Caitlin.” Caitlin’s lips parted but no sound came out. Ralph waved a hand over her face. “Hellooooo? You need me to say it again? I’m not in love with you. Stop looking like you’re in a tank with King Shark.” Caitlin blinked, coming back to herself. “No! But that’s not possible! You have to be!” Ralph chuckled, tilting his head. “Uh?” She listed all of her points on her fingers, “You think what I wear is pretty, and you give me nicknames, and you came with me to interrogate my mom!” Ralph sat down on the couch, clearly needing some support. “One, I call you pretty because you are. So is Iris. And Cecile. And Nora. It’s just a fact, Caitlin, I don’t cry myself to sleep over it.” He shook his head, “Two, Cisco gives you nicknames first, I just copy him, and three, I’m both a detective and your friend. I do the nice things I can for you because I like you.” Caitlin opened her mouth to argue— “— As a friend. It’s like I said, before I met you guys I had nobody.” He reached for a new bag of balloons and took a deep breath to blow one up. “But you wrote me that wonderful letter!” Ralph gasped, a blast of air attacking his esophagus. He coughed as the balloon noisily flew to the floor. “Oh. Oh no. Oh no no no no no. I swear you were not my Valentine’s Day Lottery.” This was an absolute disaster. Ralph swore to himself, appalled, “Damnit, I broke the rules to my own damn game.” Caitlin was so frustrated she felt like she was about to cry. Her hands went to her hair, extremely close to pulling at it, desperate. “Ralph, if it wasn’t you, then who was it?” “Your card was romantic?” She nodded miserably. “I felt so special reading that message. Now I’m starting to wish I never got it.” Ralph grimaced. “Caitlin, you know I will never be as smart as you, but this is simple logic. I’m begging you. Please just think about this.” She sank down on the couch next to him, burying her head in her hands. “Ralph I’m so embarrassed. Can we please please forget that this conversation ever happened?” He checked her side with his shoulder, nearly knocking her over. “Done, sister.” She spared him a glance, still blushing red with mortification. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I guess I’m glad I’m not breaking your heart.” Ralph shrugged, “I mean, if you did, I have my book to get me through it. It works every time.” Caitlin huffed a laugh staring at her hands in her lap. “The Book of Ralph never fails.” “Wait…” Ralph said. Caitlin looked up. “Are you in love with someone?” Caitlin’s throat went dry and she immediately broke eye contact, reaching for the deflated pink balloon left abandoned where it landed. She stretched the latex in her hands, jittery. “No. Why?” Ralph pointed at her triumphantly. “Ha! Frost lies the exact same way!” “No,” Caitlin said again on reflex, then wished she could stuff those words back into her mouth. “Yes, she does. What, are we just going to pretend you didn’t tell me you know how it feels to have unrequited love?” “That’s not what I said,” she insisted, “I said I know how it felt to be vulnerable!” Ralph was looking way too amused for Caitlin’s comfort. “That’s not what you said.” She should’ve kept quiet. She should have ran out of there the moment she realized she grossly screwed up with Ralph and her letter. Caitlin jumped up, snapping her fingers, desperately wanting to change the subject. And then she realized, she didn’t have to. “Unrequited love! That’s it! It’s Sherloque.” Ralph stared at her. And she didn’t like it. Couldn’t stand the fear creeping over her skin at Ralph possibly learning her secret. “...You lost me.” “Sherloque. He’s trying to get over Renee with me.” She made a face. “Oh dear.” Ralph shared her cringe. “Shirley? The hots for you? Really?” Caitlin sighed. Somehow she felt breaking it to Sherloque that she didn’t want to be his cherie wouldn’t be so bad. “Let’s get it over with.” “Me?” Ralph exclaimed, “I can’t go anywhere. I have heart shaped cookies in the oven.” Caitlin groaned, forcing herself to shuffle out of the lounge. “Wish me luck, Ralph.” “Uh, yeah. You sure need it.” ♡ Cisco saw a blur of red knit, and called out to stop Caitlin from twisting an ankle. “Caitlin! Did you, uh, talk to Ralph?” She didn’t stop running, but her voice carried down the corridor as she tossed her head over her shoulder after passing him. “I’m so sorry, Cisco, we’ll talk later, I have to go!” He stood there trying to understand what happened, pretty sure he had whiplash. There was only so much more of this Cisco could handle before he’d explode. ♡ He does, in fact, explode. ♡ “Barry!” Cisco all but marched into the Speed Lab minutes later, where Barry was running laps. Barry came to a screeching halt in front of Cisco. “Yeah?” “I”m done,” he burst out, vibe blasting one of the Star Labs coat racks in the corner where they kept their workout crewnecks. The stand went crashing to the floor. Cisco blasted it again, releasing his pent up frustration, and it went rolling. “She thinks it’s Ralph. She thinks it’s fucking Ralph.” Barry was still panting, hands on his knees. Cisco side-eyed Barry’s dramatics. He was the fastest man alive, Cisco would have to be paid a quarter million dollars to believe that actually tired Barry out. Barry made an incredulous noise. “She thinks you wrote the letter for Ralph?” “No! She doesn’t know that I wrote the letter at all!” Barry stood up straight, aghast. “What?” Cisco sat down on the steps, defeated. “She’s my best friend and she didn’t think for one second it could be me.” “Maybe it wasn’t clear enough.” “I threw up rainbows on that thing. Barry, I poured my heart out. It couldn’t be clearer.” “Well, yes, but it doesn’t have your name on it.” Cisco sulked. Barry carted his hand through his hair, trying to come up with ideas. “Buy her roses!” He exclaimed. “A dozen! Sing her Frank Sinatra? And a parade!” Cisco’s voice was dead flat. “A parade?” Barry zipped away. He returned with a single red rose. He threw it at Cisco. His aim was way off, but Cisco reached forward and caught it between two fingers when he stretched. “It’s the last one in Central City. I just checked.” Cisco studied the flower. It was velvet to the touch, red with a water droplet or two hidden in a crevice. “What if she doesn’t love me, Barry?” Barry was quick to sit next to his best friend, ready to pull up the pep talk he’s had saved for this moment for many years. “Dude, come on. You’re the most important person in her life.” “That doesn’t mean she loves me,” Cisco snapped. “I thought I was ready to deal with it when I wrote the letter, but maybe I was kidding myself. Was probably still high on antihistamine.” His laugh was a little watery, and he glanced at the clock. “I thought we’d be together by now.” Barry stopped and levelled him straight. “Did you mean the things you wrote about her?” “Of course I did.” “And do you still now?” “Barry, yes. Look, this isn’t about Ralph’s game, or Valentine’s Day. It’s bigger than that. It was a long time coming.” “Then that’s what you have to tell her. Straight up. Look her in the eyes and say, ‘Caitlin, I love you.’” Cisco nodded to himself, knowing it was true. But that didn’t make it easy, no matter how something as simple as how much she meant to him should be. He lifted his gaze and shared a secret with his best friend. “You know I’ve never told her that? I think I came up with everything under the sun these past few years except those exact three words.” “How come?” “They get stuck in my throat. I was always afraid that if I said it, even just in a friendly way, she’d see right through me, and know what I really mean. I’ve kept this buried for so long. It’s almost like, these feelings for her I’ve kept private are a part of me and I’ve tricked myself into pretending that’s where they belonged. But then I...I wrote the letter. Once it was all out on paper, I knew it would be impossible to go back to pretending.” Barry patted him on the back. “Cisco, take a chance. You already made it halfway, just take it home. Then you’d have done your part. The rest is up to her.” Cisco nodded, twirling the rose stem. Barry stood up, “Listen, I gotta go pick up Iris’s present before she comes back from the newspaper. Will you be alright?” Cisco closed his eyes, inhaling sharply through his nose, gathering his courage once again. “Yeah. I’m going to go find her.” ♡ Caitlin knocked on Sherloque’s station. He was squinting at a monitor, looking very concerned over some ancient greek symbols. “Ah, Dr. Snow, vas-y, come in.” He turned the computer off, giving her his full attention. She sat on a stool across from him. “How’s your day going, Sherloque?” “Fine, thanks to your kind words.” She blinked, having forgotten that he was her lottery pick. “You knew it was me,” she said, although she wasn’t quite sure why she was surprised. This was Sherloque, after all, he noticed these things in his sleep. “Bien sur,” he responded, “Those verb tenses were near perfect.” She ducked her head, “I tried.” He hummed, tapping his nose, “But you’re not here for that.” “No,” she replied. “Sherloque, did you write this letter?” She unearthed the card from her coat, handing it him. “Because if you did, I think we need to talk.” He took it from her, reading it as he stroked his beard. “Mon dieu,” he muttered. “This has so much passion.” Caitlin blushed. “Have you read it?” He asked rather bluntly. Caitlin huffed, affronted. “Of course I read it! I must have read it at least six times!” “Non,” he argued, “À la voix haut, Doctor Snow. Out loud. It will help you.” He raised an eyebrow challengingly, and their eyes locked, tense. This felt like a test. The crisp paper crinkled under her touch. She swallowed, staring down at it. “My dearest Caitlin,” she began, “It is late at night and I have written this twenty-five times, trying to say what I want to perfectly. It has only now dawned on me that I simply can’t. What I feel for you cannot be properly described with words. You are an enigma, Caitlin Snow. A breathtakingly beautiful, intelligent, lovely enigma.” She looked up, and Sherloque gestured for her to continue. She wasn’t sure she could. “Do you feel it yet?” Sherloque inquired. “Feel what?” “Tes rêves." “My dreams?” she translated, a little lost. This letter wasn’t about her dreams. And she wasn’t sure why, but something about Sherloque’s game wasn’t so nice. Still, she soldiered on. “Your hands are lethal, dangerous and cold and yet your eyes melt the hardest hearts. You breathe fire into my life but give frostbite to those you mistrust. I sit and wonder, how could the world’s kindest person be so bold and strong minded.” Her back was turned away from the door, facing Sherloque, so she didn’t see Cisco pass by in the hallway then stop abruptly at the door. She didn’t notice the rose in his hand, the way his mouth quirked up gently. She didn’t notice Sherloque tilting his hat in Cisco’s direction, satisfied with his successful deduction. She didn’t notice Cisco lean against the wall and close his eyes, listening to her talk. Caitlin wasn’t sure why her hands were shaking, why her voice started to crack, “You have taught my life’s greatest lessons. To love, not hate. To stand up when you want to cry. To fight for what you believe in until your dying breath. That good comes to those who wait. That even the worse winters have days of sun, and that you move on. You keep moving on.” “All I could ever hope for—“ Caitlin stumbled over the phrase, realizing she was no longer the only one reciting the letter. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, goosebumps running along her arms under her sweater dress. Someone was speaking along with her. Not Sherloque, who was sitting in front of her, deathly quiet. Not Iris, blocks away in her newspaper office. Not Ralph nearly burning the cookies upstairs. Not him or her or him, either. It was another voice. One she knew very well. Cisco restarted the line along with her, “All I could ever hope for is a life moving on, too.” Caitlin faltered, her throat constricting, heart pounding. She turned around, trembling, and there he was, pushing himself off the wall, coming forward. Her eyes fell back to the letter, and then there was harmony. “Laughing with you. Smiling with you. Saving the world with you. Saving every world with you.” Her cheeks were wet. She touched her face in shock, her own tears at her fingertips. Cisco approached her slowly, expecting her to back away. But she didn't. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but stand still. Cisco took another step and Sherloque took his leave. He knew it off by heart, something inside her screamed, he said every word effortlessly. He said them clearly, strongly, but softly too. She couldn’t speak, but she didn’t have to anymore. Every moment with Cisco she could remember suddenly changed, and the rose-tinted glasses she stubbornly refused to wear opened her eyes, bringing her vision to focus. Every touch on her skin. Like the arms around her shoulder, his hands on her back, the caresses he gave her, his hip checks and how he always leaned to her side. Always sat next to her. Always stood by her. Like the way he always said ‘Us’ and ‘We’. The lingering hands, the deep soulful glances, his winks and grins. His nicknames. His compliments about her hair. His compliments about her everything, actually. How he ran to her the way Barry ran to Iris when fighting metas. How when he vibed with someone he grabbed their shoulder stiffly, but with her, they always clasped hands. How he said her name like it was reverent, sacred, like a prayer. Caitlin. Cait-lin. How after waking up in the Med Bay, her name was always the first on his lips. His sweet devotion and resounding faith in her, not because he saw her as his family, but because she was who he desired. Just like she dreamed and dreamed and dreamed and then pushed away for years now because it would never be. “We are seamless, and honestly do I believe I was made to exist with you. I think about all the memories I cherish, Caitlin, and there’s always you,” Cisco said, the last line coming out in a whisper. It fell silent. When Caitlin looked up, he was right there. Close enough for her to accept the rose, close enough that he could brush away the moisture from under her right eye with his thumb. She pressed the rose stem until her index finger pricked a thorn, but didn’t flinch, her regenerative healing ebbing the cut away. “You wrote it,” she finally said, dumbfounded. He hummed and inched closer, some hair falling in his face as he leaned in so that they were inches apart. “What does it mean?” “What do you think it means?” he murmured. His gaze kept flicking from her eyes down to her mouth and she licked her lips subconsciously. “Say it.” “I just did, Caitlin.” “I need you to say it,” she begged. “Caitlin,” Cisco took a deep shuddery breath. He was expressive, open, his heart on his sleeve. “I’m very much in love with you.” The sentence rang in Caitlin’s ears. A noise escaped from her throat, a quiet whimpered thing. He stepped back, having said his piece. He squeezed both her arms at her side warmly and said, “I’ll see you at the Lottery Reveal, okay?” She blinked and they were no longer a breath apart. This wasn’t a dream or a trick or something Caitlin made up or got wrong. This wasn’t a nightmare or a meta or the speed force or a time remnant or a broken timeline or another earth. These were Cisco’s words both in writing and from his very lips, his revealed heart and soul and body and mind and everything in between. And he loved her. “Wait!” she yelped, unfreezing, realizing he was going away. He turned around and she ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. Cisco hugged her, and she couldn’t help but breathe him in, his strong arms wrapped around her waist. Caitlin buried her face into his hair where it fell over his shoulder, just breathing, feeling his heart beating against her chest for a very long time. He held her tightly, and she was shaking because she was overwhelmed. She couldn’t believe it. The rose fell to the floor and the letter crumpled slightly, smushing against Cisco’s back in their embrace. Eventually the letter joined the flower on the ground as Caitlin forced herself to pull back. It was ridiculously difficult, like tearing two magnets apart. She drank in the crease in his forehead, his jaw, his eyelashes and the beautiful eyes they framed, his cheekbones and then his lips. Her hands trailed up the sides of his face, grazing his soft skin and she saw the effect she had on him, she saw the way he melts. She tilted her head closer and then he was gasping into her mouth. He cupped the back of her head, right below her ponytail, fingers tangling into the baby hair at the nape of her neck. The kiss broke softly, and then there was nothing but the pounding in their ears. Their eyes met, hers shining, his blown back and wide and Caitlin couldn’t help the exceptional smile that naturally followed. He searched her face for something, for an answer to his very important question, and it was up to her to grant it. So she did. She nodded and it was like something in Cisco shattered, his reserve or his years of self-control and he lurched forward, yanking her to him so hard she bent backwards, stumbling and then somehow he had her against the wall, really having his way. His kisses were wild and desperate and Caitlin tried to keep up, drowning in the new sensation of doing this with Cisco, of being ravished and loving every single second of it. He was talking. Mumbling things into her skin as he pushed her hair back, kissing up the slope of her neck. Things like her name and his secrets. Caitlin let out a small cry, thumping her head back against the wall, thrumming under his touch. He stopped and moved his hand to where she bumped her head, pulling away. “Sorry, sorry,” he rushed, fingers feeling for bruises. “You okay? Does it hurt?” She shook herself off and pushed him, kissed him more, walking them forwards, kissing him deeply, kissing him the way he made her feel, hot and loved and alive. Cisco slowed, but Caitlin kept chasing, addicted, stealing kisses from him until it was impossible because he was starting to laugh. He dug his fingers into Caitlin’s hair, blowing a puff of air against her cheek. She felt weak, lightheaded, like she hadn’t ate all day, but this woozy, dizziness was just about the best thing that has ever happened to her. “What’s so funny?” she asked, giggling as his frame shook. “You thought it was Ralph!” Caitlin bit her lip, heat rising, not knowing what to say. “How could you not think it was me?” He was teasing her, but she could detect the hurt beneath the words. She didn’t answer right away and he immediately subdued. She stepped backwards so that he could see her face, and picked up her precious letter from off the floor. “Because,” she said seriously. “Thinking it was Iris and being wrong was confusing. Believing it was Ralph and getting that wrong was embarrassing. With Sherloque it was a relief. ” She let herself be sensitive, honest with both him and herself for once. Her voice wobbled. “But if it was you, Cisco, who I was convinced about, if it was you and I was wrong. That would have broken me. That would have hurt so much.” She was welling up with tears again. “So I didn’t let myself think it at all.” His face softened. “Because,” she continued, “I thought I accepted some time ago that just being your Caitlin, your best friend, would be enough to get me by, but that’s just not true.” “Caitlin,” he said. “I didn’t know. I wish I did. I should’ve just told you in the beginning when you didn’t get it. I’m sorry.” She shook her head, reaching for him again. “I was silly to think it could be anyone but you.” She let herself be kissed, her eyes fluttering closed, smiling against his lips. “The party's just about to— Woaaaah.” They sprang apart, caught. “Guess you found out who was in love with you after all, huh, Caitlin?” Caitlin blushed, and Cisco pulled her to his chest, glaring. “Go away Ralph,” he all but growled. “We’re going home.” “You can’t go home!” he exclaimed, “It’s the Valentine’s Day Lottery Reveal! You have to show up. Tell him, Caitlin.” They both ganged up on Cisco, giving him matching pleading looks. “The cookies, Cisco,” she pouted. “And you need to guess who wrote yours!” He was unable to resist her, not with the way she snuggled closer, blinking her eyelashes up at him. “Wow okay, you’re playing dirty and I don’t know how I feel about it.” Caitlin twirled a lock of her hair from the ponytail all askew, “You wanna see me play dirty? Come with me to the party and you’ll find out,” she flirted, not knowing where the hell that came from or even meant, but the way his pupils widened gave her a pretty good idea that Cisco liked it. “Fine!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “Fine, we’ll go to the Lottery Reveal!” Caitlin and Ralph cheered. ♡ Cisco was feeding Caitlin heart shaped, red dyed cookies at the island in the lounge as Ralph clapped his hands. “I’ll go first, Barry thank you for your card.” Barry laughed, “Nah, dude. Wasn’t me. I know you’re mine though.” “How’d you know it was him?” Iris asked where she was sitting on Barry’s lap, still admiring the necklace he bought her. “It said ‘thank you for saving me from DeVoe.’” He gave Ralph a very pointed look. Ralph scoffed, “That could’ve been anyone here.” “Bien non. But it was you,” Sherloque interjected playing with a balloon. “Are we wrong?” “No,” said Ralph, shaking his strawberry shake. “So then who wrote mine?” “Moi!” Sherloque said, stealing the last cookie from the plate. “Puis la mademoiselle Caitlin wrote mine.” Caitlin smiled around her mouthful, half distracted as Cisco’s fingers brushed the crumbs off her lips. She wasn’t even sure he was paying any attention to what was going on around them at all. “And we all know who wrote Caitlin’s,” Iris said, and they all turned around to stare at them. Caitlin swallowed the last bit of cookie and kissed Cisco’s cheek. “Yes, well. It might’ve taken me all day but at least I got a boyfriend out of it.” “Hell yeah you did,” Cisco responded. He took her hand and tangled their fingers together, kissing it. “Who do you think had you, Cisco?” Ralph prompted him. Cisco didn’t hear him, and Caitlin had to nudge him out of his lovesick stupor. “Huh?” “Your Valentine,” Caitlin reminded him, touching his face. “You,” he gushed. Caitlin’s cheeks burned as Team Flash laughed. “No, sweetheart, I mean who wrote your letter?” Iris, having had enough of this whole game the moment she found out her husband rigged the lottery, rose her voice. “It was me! I wrote his letter! Not that he’ll even remember it. You’re welcome, Cisco.” She stood up and pulled Barry off the chair, dragging him out the room. “Party’s over. I really want to go home with my husband, can we leave now?” ♡ When Cisco vibed Caitlin to his apartment, she was surprised to find the dining table all nicely set up. “Is this for me?” He hummed and turned on the stove to heat the food. “It’s like I said on Tuesday,” he said, pointing his wooden spoon at the chair for her to sit down. He pushed her in and gave her a fancy tablecloth to place over her lap. “I had special plans.” “Oh,” Caitlin replied, feeling a little stupid. She watched him pull out a bottle of wine and light some candles. “What would you have done if this didn’t go well?” Cisco folded his arms over his chest. “Then I would’ve had a very awkward Valentine’s Day date with Ralph.” He came forward and sat across from her at the table. Caitlin couldn’t help giggling at that image, of Ralph stuck in her place, and cursed it ever crossing Cisco’s mind. He watched her as she laughed into her napkin, eyes full of light. She sobered and placed her chin in her hand, elbow next to her cutlery, mirroring Cisco’s look of incandescent happiness. It fell silent, and Cisco’s dinner simmered on the stove. “Lucky Ralph,” she whispered. Cisco’s face glowed amber in the candlelight. It was playful and ardent and hot. “No.” His finger went under her jaw, tilting it up slightly. Caitlin’s breath caught in her throat, holding his burning gaze until the moment she surrendered, eyelashes fanning closed as she was kissed and he murmured, “Lucky me.”

[enforcer-of-the-dead]

Release

Barricade wasn’t very clear about how long he had been in prison. Since that time he had seen most of his comrades, including a medical checkup or two from Ambulon. He had also visited with Blackout a number of times however due to a lockdown in the pod thanks to a few idiots, the terrorcon missed the weekend’s conjugal visit.

A fact that was likely for the better as while his hip was healing, it still hurt a great deal. The enforcer didn’t think it would be entirely possible that he could have an intimate moment with Blackout quite like he wished.

Weeks passed and the talk of whether or not Barricade would have his retrial soon was still a mystery. He went before a judge once but nothing could be concluded of where his case was, especially without an attorney. Naturally he requested a public defender, was granted one but even still the public defender hadn’t any knowledge of when the prosecution would be taking the case as they were waiting for information regarding the new council which had yet to be establish.

Barricade was caught in a limbo and he had no clue when it would end. Rations were troubling to come by and with little to do aside think, the days seemed to have grown immensely long, boring, and unbearable.

It was on the 23rd day of his incarceration within general population that a guard came up to his cell and informed him he was being released on bond. The checkout process was rather quick and before Barricade could even ask ‘who bonded me out’ he was kicked out of Iacon and left in the lobby with nothing to his designation aside a datapad with bond instructions. No one was present to pick him up and for the moment, every thought of ‘contact your friends or mate’ left his processors.

Here he was in Iacon, hungry but knowing he couldn’t feed, broke, and alone. When he stepped out of the jail’s doors, he was square in the middle of the vast and bustling city with no clue where anything was. The terrorcon may have been calm but inside he was an anxious mess. The only reason he started to walk was per the knowledge of ‘gotta find my bondsman.’

This task alone was daunting. It took an hour for the dark colored mech to locate the building and an hour more to even be helped due to the sheer lack of case management the bondsman had. Finally he was able to be seen by...someone who explained what was going on.

“Alright, so your bond has been paid in full, but we have to keep track of you for the courts. Its kinda like probation except we can throw you back in jail the moment you stop doing any of these things I’m about to tell you.” the stout mech explained as Barricade sat across from him.

“Here’s the rules. No drugs or high grade. I hear you don’t have to worry about that stuff, but we will still test you assuming your Energon is testable. You can’t leave Iacon without letting us know where you’re going and how long you’ll be gone. You can’t move out of the city unless where you plan to move has a bond agency that will work with us. If you do move, you have to give us two weeks notice before doing so. You have to have an address and we want to see some attempt that you’re seeking employment. We will check both your residence and employment weekly. And lastly, don’t break any laws. Pretty simple...Do you understand?”

Barricade looked at the mech who gave him the lengthy list of things he couldn’t do and nodded. However he just kept his optics to the ground. Hopefully a sign to show that he wasn’t going to do very well.

“So you know, Iacon has a place for the homeless. It’s not great, but it’s a place to live. They put you to work out there too. Sort of a ‘we give you a bed and as a return you clean up the city and such’ I’ll give you the address for that since I can already see you ain’t gonna get a job that’s legal and you won’t find a home either because that requires credits.” Barricade nodded, received the address and left once he was given the ok. The homeless shelter he was referred to was clear across town. A daunting task given its distance but also simply because the terrorcon drew the gaze of everyone as he went. He couldn’t avoid the slums of Iacon either and it didn’t take long for some thugs to come out and show their dissatisfaction for his existence. Such a thing happened three times while trying to get to the shelter and each time, no one called local enforcers. 

By the time Barricade arrived at the homeless shelter, it was late. The bulding’s front lobby was dark and the front doors were locked. Etched in symbols were displayed on the doors, but Barricade couldn’t read the Iaconian language. One mech going into a side door in the building explained that the lobby staff were volunteers only and had gone home hours ago and wouldn’t likely be back until early morning.    Only then would Barricade be able to register to get into the shelter.

Defeated and injured, the terrorcon just sat down on the pavement next to the door and waited. No one seemed to bother him outside a couple enforcers who were checking around the place. Each time he gestured to the building that he was waiting and showed them his bond datapad. They would understand and leave.

It had been a long night but when morning came, someone opened the door from within and invited the terrorcon in. Within moments he was registered, given a bunk assignment and escorted back to the living area with instructions. The staff tried to offer him a fresh cube of normal grade Energon but it was given to someone else very quickly. Once ‘breakfast’ was over Barricade was simply allowed to rest at his cot in what equated into a gymnasium with hundreds of other cots. Work assignments were to walk around the building and pick up trash. 

All the while, Barricade grew hungrier and more and more jaded towards Iacon’s treatment of his existence.

[roleplayercritiques]

Critique #1

--Mod Renoir

Sample 1:

Whatever anger might have lingered in him was gone the second he picked up the details of X’s state. The puffy eyes and shaky hands, an hoarse edge to his voice that was rare by many standards. A moment’s of concern washed over him but compassion took hold faster. Y wanted to help, like so many times before. Sometimes his abrasive personality and lack of bed-manners helped, but this time…

He wasn’t sure.

“I haven’t seen your face like that in never.” It felt wrong the second it left him. Y grimaced at himself. “Sorry. Not helpful. Coffee sounds great.” Look, a distraction. He walked over to stand nearby, thanking for the coffee as it was given to him. Who was he to say no to coffee.

Taking a sip, he considered why the starbase would limit X’s access. If they thought he would try to run off, they’d done a bad job. Y would bet a peach cobbler that X could MacGyver his way out with just a PADD and a paperclip.

Of course that probably wasn’t it. It was probably the same cowardly ignorance that caused the mere suggestion of kicking the vulcan off the ‘fleet. It was irritating.

Instead, he went backwards in the conversation. “I know ya’ve heard this from me before,” he started, looking to X and simply watching his reaction. “The release of emotions’s what keep us healthy.” Then something new. “And you don’t need to hide it.”

Sample 2:

It’s a small wonder that the hallways isn’t crowded; it’s practically empty, making moving easier. Y knows they have to change paths soon, because no doubt there’ll be security hot in their heels and then he’ll never get any honest answers.

He doesn’t respond his copy at first, still oddly perplexed that he thinks there’s easier ways to get answers. What, interrogation and the agony booth for him? Fat chance. Finally, Y grabs hold of his copy’s uniform, stopping him and pulling him to the wall. There’s the computer terminal he was looking for.

“Jefferies tubes.” It’s an answer, albeit brief. The terminal beeps. “What’s your-” Y stops, having turned to Z, the phaser never wavering. His one eye narrows. It couldn’t be, could it? Without another word he turns to the terminal and inputs his own code and the terminal chirps, accepting it.

Fuck.

No, get away first, answers second.

Two quick commands and he shuts the terminal off, turning to the wall. Almost effortlessly, a panel is removed and Y grabs the scruff of his copy’s uniform, shoving him to the opening of the Jefferies tube. “Get in,” he snaps. The tubes lead everywhere but if he can get them to his usual junction, he can consider himself safe.

Thank you for your submission! We have censored all names. For context, Y is the pseudonym I have given OP’s muse. X and Z are the two different muses that Y-mun is responding to.

Something I noticed right off the bat was the inconsistent tense (past for the first sample and present for the second), but I followed the link for the second reply and realized it was because you were matching your partner’s responses. I think that’s a great thing to do, and it shows your flexibility as a writer. One reason that you might feel less enthusiastic about your second response could be linked to the different tense that you wrote in. Most people write fiction in the past tense, and judging from the first sample, it’s what you’re used to writing too. Changing tenses may have thrown off your internal sense of what’s “good” to you.

One thing that confused me a little bit as someone who isn’t from your fandom was the use of Y’s first and last name interchangeably to refer to him. I figured it out, of course, it was just something I noticed and stumped me in the beginning. It’s not a huge deal, just something I noticed.

In sample 1, I noticed that there was a lot of character depth that was shown to me instead of outright telling me. For example, Y--a doctor--is described as having an “abrasive personality” and a “lack of bed[side]-manners”, which is interesting for a doctor, since doctors are usually portrayed as nurturing and kind. However, contradictory to his outward appearance, he is actually a very thoughtful character, as demonstrated by the fact that he carefully considers X’s feelings and reactions to his instructions. It’s human to have contradictions of character, so I think that’s an interesting touch.

Something I felt was a little confusing was this sentence: “Sometimes his abrasive personality and lack of bed-manners helped, but this time…” I wasn’t sure how the abrasive personality and lack of bed-manners has helped in the past. Perhaps it’s because I lack context due to not being in the fandom, but I felt that the wording and implication of what “helping” has to do with character traits that on a surface level appear unhelpful.

Overall, I think sample 1 is well written and is clear in expressing your muse’s personality and characteristics. I also didn’t notice any grammar mistakes and I felt that it flowed well, considering its structure as a reply.

Sample 2, the one you said you felt a little unsure about, doesn’t have anything particularly glaringly wrong with it. I think that based off of sample 1, Y’s characterization appears consistent. To me, the action sequence is clear and demonstrates a sense of urgency, especially in the character’s thoughts and the bolding of the word “fuck” to further emphasize his distress. There is also an increased number of paragraph breaks, that shows the fragmentation of his thoughts as he tries to focus on a bunch of things at once while staying calm.

One kinda nitpicky thing I noticed was that in the very first sentence, the conjugation is slightly off. It’s correctly written in present tense, but in “It’s a small wonder that the hallways isn’t crowded“, the verb “isn’t” is modifying “the hallways”, which is plural. Therefore, “isn’t” should be “aren’t”. But this is a very nitpicky moment, and I think it’s just an unintentional mistake on your part because your conjugations everywhere else are spot on.

I noticed in a few places, there is a bit of repetition in sentence structure. For example, although these two sentences are different lengths, their internal structure are the same. “Two quick commands and he shuts the terminal off, turning to the wall” and “... a panel is removed and Y grabs the scruff of his copy’s uniform, shoving him to the opening of the Jefferies tube” are both structured in a way where there is a complete sentence and a comma, followed by a fragment starting with an “ing” verb. I only noticed because I have a similar problem with using this particular structure very often. I cut out a piece of the second sentence to fully demonstrate exactly how similar in structure these two sentences really are. They both start with two sentences strung together with ‘and’, then there’s a comma, and there’s a “verb-ing” sentence fragment. If there was one sentence in between to separate them (a short one, perhaps “His eyes quickly skim over the wall”). This may be another reason why you felt a little less satisfied with sample 2 compared to sample 1.

Overall, I think you are a strong writer with a very solid grasp of your character’s personality, motivations, and thought process. I enjoyed reading about Y’s thought processes and how he interacts with the world around him. In terms of general things that could change, I think the replies feel a little bit janky and disconnected at times, but I understand since it’s a reply and your partner may have written some time strange time bending replies. It’s something to look into, especially for improving the flow of your replies in the future.

[ssho25]

Too Shy to Say

Okay so, this is loooong overdue. But Happy Birthday to @andyzambie, the first online mutual I ever made. I started following you on Tumblr because of Daisuga, and so here is a fluffy Daisuga for you!

...

The minutes went by as Daichi’s math homework went unattended, his eyes wandering elsewhere. To be fair, it’s hard to concentrate on something as boring as homework when your crush of 2 and a half years is sitting next to you alone in your bedroom. 

But of course it didn’t stop there. No, the real kicker was how said crush had a habit of scrunching up his eyebrows while pouting when he struggled with a problem, followed up by his eyes lighting up and a proud, self-satisfied smile spreading across his face when he finally figured out the answer. Any other person would have seen a studious, hardworking student, but all Daichi could see was cute. Soon after first year had started, Daichi realized he would never tire of the person named Sugawara Koushi or miss how Suga could make his heart skip a beat without even trying. You’d think that after all that time together, Daichi would’ve built up a tolerance or at the very least learned how to ignore it. Teenaged hormones are apparently quite the formidable opponent.

“…chi…Daichi!”

Daichi snapped out of his trance. “Huh?”  

“I asked you if you figured out number 11.”

“Uh…” Daichi looked down at his blank worksheet and looked back up with a sheepish smile.

“That’s quite the progress you’ve made there,” Sugawara smirked.

“I uh…I’m a slow learner?”

“That’s not going to help a soon to be exam student,” Sugawara chided.

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there. Have patience.”

“Well, at least get there before tonight. I can’t help you if I’m at home.”

“You can just stay over tonight, can’t you?” Daichi pleaded.

“Didn’t you ask me to come study with you right now so you wouldn’t have to do it later?”

“Well…yeah, but you can’t help me if you leave before I’m done.”

“You can at least try the problems before you give up.”

“But math is hard,” Daichi whined. “Teach me, Suga? Please?”

Sugawara had that smile that said he’d help Daichi even if he didn’t beg. But Daichi knew Suga better than that. Suga was definitely going to tease him to get something out of helping him.

“Hmm, I don’t know if I can do that…” Sugawara trailed off. He looked away and held his chin in thought. “Should I help you? But what would I get out of it?”

Daichi flashed a knowing grin. “Mapo tofu or pork buns?”

“Tofu and ramen please!” Sugawara’s smile stretched out to cover the lower half of his face. Daichi’s heart started to thump so loudly in his chest, he started to worry if Sugawara could hear it.

“As you wish. Now how do I do question 1?”

Daichi was good for maybe an hour or 2. At the very least, he was able to reach question 11 so he and Suga could work out the problem together. But the second set of problems were a lot more difficult than he anticipated. He scratched his head as he stared down a one particularly troubling equation.

“Hey Suga, do you understand how to solve the 5th problem on the back?”

“Which one?”

“The one that has ‘4 minus the square root of 5’ in the denominator.”

“What did you get for an answer?”

“I got 7/2, but then I tried again and got -1. So I’m sure I went wrong somewhere, but I don’t know where.”

Sugawara flipped through his workbook for his answer. “Hmm, I got 4/7 for that one. Let me see what you did,” Sugawara said as he stood up from the table. He walked around to the opposite side and took a seat right next to Daichi, leaning in close to take a look at Daichi’s rough work.

Daichi stiffened at the proximity and hoped the heat he felt on his cheeks wasn’t noticeable. Suga was doing it again, eyebrows all scrunched up as he went through Daichi’s work. At this distance, Daichi could see how long Suga’s dark eyelashes were, how they contrasted with his pale skin. Daichi was drawn to Sugawara’s warm hazel-brown eyes and wondered if he could see specs of other shades if he got close enough. His eyes flicked over to the beauty mark at the corner of Suga’s eye. There was nothing special about this mark, and yet for some reason Daichi always imagined placing kiss after kiss on it as he held Suga tightly. As he began to think about kissing, his eyes wandered lower to Sugawara’s lips. A soft shade of pink and in full pout from concentrating. Lord have mercy on his soul.

“Ah!” Suga’s outburst startled Daichi. “Here’s where you went wrong. You didn’t multiply the conjugate correctly.”

“I-I didn’t?”

“Yeah, see that’s supposed to be an addition sign, so then…” Sugawara continued to explain how to solve the problem, but Daichi was too distracted to listen. Suga had leaned in closer, his chest pressing up against Daichi’s arm. The smell of Suga’s shampoo tickled his nose making it extremely difficult to concentrate. Keep it together, Daichi. Now is not the time to be gay for your best friend.

“And then you end up with 4/7. Got it?”

“Uh…yes?”

“Daichi, were you even listening to me?”

“…Yes?”

“Daichi.”

“If you know the answer to your own question, why are you asking?”

“Why are you asking people to help you with your math homework but then you don’t even listen to them?”

“…Touché.”

“Is there something that’s bothering you Daichi?” Sugawara’s face changed to one of concern.

You. “No, of course not. What makes you think that?”

“‘Cause you’re getting distracted so easily. You know if something is wrong, you can tell me right?”

Not exactly, not this time. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just…tired,” Daichi lamely finished. He was never a quick thinker under pressure.

“Tired?”

“Uh, yeah. I um…had trouble falling asleep last night so I didn’t get much sleep.” Hopefully that was sufficient enough for an answer to make Suga stop pressing the issue.

“Now that you mention it, it does look like you’re tired.” Daichi internally breathed a sigh of relief, but it was a moment too soon. “Are you getting bags under your eyes?” Sugawara continued. He reached out his hand to hold the side of Daichi’s face and leaned in closer to Daichi.

The heat returned to Daichi’s cheeks as his heart thumped like a mad man. He leaned back and put up his hands in surrender.  “I-i-i-is that so? I’ll-I’ll just g-g-go check in the mirror. M-maybe some cold water will help wake me up,” Daichi stuttered. He swiftly rose from the floor and headed towards the exit.

Daichi knew he left the room in an obvious hurry, but he had to get out of there. There was only so much Sugawara Koushi that his adolescent mind could handle. He reached the bathroom and locked the door behind him, clutching the sink for support as he took deep breaths. Daichi looked at himself in the mirror and saw how bright pink his cheeks were. He couldn’t tell if it was from his mad dash to the bathroom or from Suga. Probably Suga…definitely Suga.

How could one person have so much of an affect on him? Daichi didn’t know and it didn’t help that he had nothing to reference. He had never felt so strongly about someone before and it was a little nerve-wracking. But at the same time, he wouldn’t give up these feelings for Suga for anything. Dare he say it? Sugawara was possibly (most certainly) his first love.

The racing of his heart from Suga rivaled the thrill he got from playing volleyball. It’s almost fitting that he realized his feelings as they stood on the court together. Sugawara had looked so fierce, eyes filled with determination that instantly turned to joy the moment their team earned a point. It was in that moment that Daichi knew he was captivated, which only lead to him falling in deeper with no escape. Did everyone feel this way when they were in love? Didn’t girls talk about this stuff in manga all the time? How do they cope with unrequited feelings when their crush is their best friend? Maybe this was something he should’ve googled a long time ago.

Before he returned to his room, Daichi splashed some cold water onto his face to reduce the redness. After inspecting his face for what he deemed an acceptable colour, he dried his face with a towel and left the bathroom. He walked back slowly to his room, buying himself some more time for his mind to catch up with his feet. He stopped just outside his bedroom door, making no movement to head inside. He took one last breath to steel his mind before opening it, only to find that Sugawara had decided to take a nap.

Daichi sat back down at the table to get a good look at Sugawara. Suga had folded his arms to use as a makeshift pillow on the table they were just using. His body rhythmically rose and fell to the tempo of his breathing, creating an air of serenity. The bangs of his ashen hair framed his face and gently fluttered from the breeze that came in from the open window. His lips were slightly parted, making them appear more plump and kissable (if that was even possible). The earlier look of concern was nowhere to be found, replaced with a face full of calm and tranquillity. There was no way Daichi could look away, even if he wanted to.

Daichi placed an elbow on the table and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. He continued to watch Suga sleep, a contented smile creeping onto his face. He reached out to lightly poke at Sugawara’s beauty mark. Nothing happened the first time, so Daichi fared another poke. This time, Suga’s nose scrunched up and he gently shook his head to try and escape Daichi’s finger. All too soon Sugawara’s face went back to normal and he returned to sleeping peacefully. Daichi quietly chuckled to avoid waking Suga up. Even in his sleep, Suga was cuter than Daichi could even fathom.

“Suki da yo,” Daichi whispered.

Just then, he heard the front door to the house open. “Daichi?” his mother called out. “Can you help me with the groceries?”

“I’ll be right there,” he called back. He stood up and left his room to make his way downstairs. He felt somewhat lighter being able to acknowledge his feelings out loud.

If Daichi had turned around to look behind him, he might’ve seen the pink tinge to Suga’s ears and Suga hide the rest of his reddening face in his arms. If he had listened carefully enough, he might’ve caught the quiet, “I like you too,” as well.

[maskedinstructor]

The Secondary Years-Sophie, The Great

Sophie(her first name which we never used in her presence), as I explained previously, taught Latin at Boys High School. Her classes were masterpieces in instructional pedagogy. Then,there was the genius she brought to classroom management and ambiance. One brilliant tactic she introduced was the homework excuse extra credit story. Anyone who failed to submit the required assignment would not only be exempt from that assignment, but would also receive extra credit should he present an excuse Sophie had never heard before. As  luck would have it, we would see the policy in action early on in the second semester. Paul Silverstone arrived to class late and red. He explained that he was rushing to school when a fierce wind ripped his notebook from his clutches and scattered his papers on the ground. Quickly, a dog appeared and took the papers on which was written the homework and scampered away. He pursued the dog for many blocks. However, his agility and speed provided him with the ability to evade capture. The homework and other valuable school possessions were lost. The entire class turned in Sophie's direction after the tale. She smiled and said, " Well,  I told you if you offered an alibi for missing homework that I had not heard before, I would give you 10 points. Paul, here are your 10 points. "  Sophie opened her Delaney book and marked a 10 on Paul's card. The class applauded. Paul was the hero for the day.

Theoretical Framework: When in the company of excellence, steal as much as you can. It was a balmy spring day when a knock sounded on the door to Sophie's room. The class fell silent.  Who had the balls to touch Sophie's door during instruction? It had to be a king, queen or idiot was the collective thought. Sophie raised herself from the bar stool. The quiet was augmented by fear because we knew that some poor, unsuspecting soul was about to die. On the other side of the opened door was a soldier. " Good, he won't be killed. He could defend himself," I thought. Then , the strangest thing happened. Sophie literally sparkled. She greeted the young warrior with a tight hug. He reciprocated. She immediately introduced him to the class. We welcomed the interruption and hoped he would stay for the entire period. She touched his uniform, congratulated him and interrogated him like the NYPD. "You chose the service, wonderful. Now, Uncle Sam will pay for your advanced studies. What have you seen? What countries have you visited that were mentioned in class? What does the future hold for one my best students ever? How is your brother? What is mommy doing? Give them all my regards. I want to see you again and very soon. Call me if you need help with career choices. You are going to do make a mark on society. This, I knew when you first entered my class. You are very special." It was very noticeable that this young man stood at attention the whole time. We all recognized that this was not army training. It was in respect for Sophie. Too soon, that visit was over. They hugged and he departed. Sophie was visibly shaken. We never believed that anyone would ever return to see  Sophie. That visit was a testimonial to her brilliance as an instructor and her magnetic effect on her charges. She reached minds and souls in a way few teachers could.

Theoretical Framework: People are people. We are all the same...Just simple folks striving for success and a place in the world.  It was Sophie who coined the phrase, " My little United Nations!" Up to that moment, I had never realized so many different nationalities were in the class. Oh, my word, there were only 15 of us. Junnie, Yankey, Burt Wind and I were the African Americans in the class. There were others...Paul-Jewish, Masuo-Japanese, Egiltis-German, The Armenian brother, Appleblaza-Italian and some 6 remaining students whose names are lost to me after so many years. Just students striving to learn and brothers in the struggle to met the standards our demanding and scholarly instructor had set for us.  Sophie relished the opportunity to display her knowledge to so many ethnic groups. Her United Nations group eager to learn. Every day was exciting. Gradually the numbers dropped. Masuo left the class because his 95 average in Latin was causing in his GPA to slip. Paul disappear after two terms. Eglitis was a strange dude. He was extremely intelligent. He did have the advantage in that German was structured most closely to Latin with its conjugations and declensions. However, the dude  spoke not a word to anyone. He was like a ghost. We were happy when he decided not to continue his studies. Appleblaza made the varsity basketball team. He didn't have the time to spend deciphering Latin when his jump shot was lacking. He chose Spanish and was quick to reveal to us that even though he arrived at Spanish late in the semester, he received no grade lower than 99. We were all ready to abandon the Latin ship after that revelation. Soon, we were only 10 on the class register. We stayed to the end , three years of Sophie and we were the better for it. Sophie was the most consistent thing we had in our lives. She was never absent( except for the day she decided to die her hair blue. But, that's another story). She was a teachers' teacher and she loved us in her own strange way.

That final semester, I was the best in class. This would make me eligible for the Sophie Award, Outstanding Achievement in Latin for the year. I was in the zone. Nothing was too difficult for me. My fellow students told me I was the only one who could possibly get that coveted prize. I crushed them consistently every day. I was truly invincible. I could taste the award and to get it from Sophie made it all the more significant.  In April of that year,  NYU was presenting a citywide contest in the art of Latin translation. I had no idea what the hell that was about, but Sophie selected 3 of us to compete, Paul, Yankey and me. I bombed on that exam gloriously. I saw letters but no words. I could not translate anything. The word I still remember was APUD...I recognized that it took the accusative case . However, I did not recall what it meant. I was in lock down. My brain completely froze. What made matters worse was that Paul and Yankey were discussing their translations of  the passages on the subway ride home. It all made sense to them... piece of cake. The next day, Sophie complimented the two students as they were awarded certificates for their astute translations. She never looked in my direction. In May,  the Sophie Award was granted to Yankey with Paul second. The class was astonished. All eyes were on me. I tried to conceal my disappointment,  to no avail. As much as I loved and admired Sophie, I can safely say on this matter, she erred. I won that award hands down. No one was better than I all year long.

I left Latin with that sour taste in my mouth. However I learned a valuable lesson. Things don't always go your way. Pick your ass up and move on. Life can never be summed up by one event. I still love you Sophie. I do want that award though. I earned it.