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thoseofgreatambition · 4 years

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duet | {im}mature

description: you were supposed to be fred’s best friend. but you sure weren’t acting like it.

a/n: this broke my heart to write, but i think a bit from fred’s perspective would be wonderful. again this is the wonderful wonderful story i am writing with @ickle-ronniekins and you have to follow her, i honestly owe so much to her because this is something i’ve always wanted to do and haven’t had the chance yet.

DUET MASTERLIST

warnings: swearing, blood

wordcount: 5K

taglist: @highly-acidic @feffffffy @sweetpeastrigger @stuckindilemma @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @harrysweasleys @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @lumos-barnes @thatfuckingliardavidtennant @slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens @woakiees @black-widow-fangirl @theheirofnightandday @summerstardust @whysoseriouspadfoot @chocok22 @myhopesareanchoredinyou @siriusblackisme @illusivedaydreamer @zeeneee @writingwitchly @wolfpotter12 @obsessedwithrandomthings @carolinesbookworld @shadowsinger11 @pit-and-the-pen @summer-writes @peachesandpinks @gweaslvy @alpinewinchester @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual

no smut taglist: @parker-potters

Fred adored you. Truly. You were his closest friend, aside from George. The little Hufflepuff with the ribbons who’d shouted him down after a prank only four short years ago. The one who truly would tell him what you thought of his pranks.

Perhaps that was a lie, but he liked your opinion more than most others.

He often didn’t want to hear it, but that's beside the point.

Now though? Now he wanted your opinion. His mother told him once long ago that the reason he got into such intense arguments was that he poked and prodded others until they told him what he thought was wrong, and then he would pounce.

What utter rubbish, Fred thought as he stared you down from across the D.A. Room. All he wanted to know was why you were so against his suggestion that you come with them when they leave Hogwarts.

Very simple.

Not to mention how annoying it was that you were paired with Longbottom. All he ever heard was George prattling on about how much he missed spending time with you. If Neville weren’t careful he would catch the bad end of a Nosebleed Nougat.

You for your part, seemed to be returning his gaze with an equal amount of fervor. In between longing glances at George.

If Fred weren’t such a firm believer in keeping promises, he would have locked the two of you in a cupboard long ago to shag it out.

Alas, he was frustratingly loyal.

What a terrible flaw to have.

It was towards the end of the meeting, when you looked near tears of frustration of being unable to figure out the expelliarmus charm, and George was fawning over you that he approached. Even Harry had left.

“Y/N.”

George shot Fred a warning look, a look that said ‘if you pick a fight I’ll knock you out’.

Fred hadn’t been knocked out by George yet.

It was like an itch he couldn’t help but scratch. Fred wouldn’t admit it, even if there was a wand pointed to his jugular, but he was every inch as self conscious as George. Perhaps even more. People who knew them always talked about how confident Fred was and how smart George was. How his twin had the more mature personality.

Perhaps it was true, but the thought that he was missing out on something that others might have noticed dug underneath his skin and clawed against his skull.

You took in a shaky breath.

Fat tears on your cheek. Fred let out a grunt. He could be emotionally mature. He could be the more mature one. More mature than George obviously-- he could state things in a clear way, and even wait to say them.

He could do it.

This was a time to wait. “You want to be a healer right? No one’s going to come at you as a healer. Let’s go get you to the kitchens then to your dorm.”

The little smile you gave eased his heart a bit.

He’d always been uncomfortable when you’d cried.

You were mad. He could tell. You were mad at George, Fred knew it like he knew Quidditch formations. You always got weird and pouty when you sat on the other side of the Great Hall. You could have asked to sit over with them. It was the weekend. Life was boring without a bit of risk. But you took your seat at the Hufflepuff table and kept looking back over at George.

Fred wasn’t able to hang out with you either. Every free moment you chased after his twin.

You were supposed to be his best friend too.

You were a prat sometimes. And you were too wrapped up in your ‘unrequited’ love to notice it.

With a huff, Fred followed you out of the hall as you tried to escape. Presumably to cry in your dorm room again instead of coming over to speak with them.

Madness! What was George going to do, push you away?

And even if George didn’t want to talk-- which he always did-- you could have been speaking to him.

What had happened to best friends?

“Oi!” his voice was loud in the corridor, with his large frame and fiery hair it was easy for you to locate the sound. “Why are you running out without talking to us?”

He meant ‘me’, but that was too messy.

You frowned up at Fred, lip wobbling, eyes wet. It was hard to be intimidated by someone who looked like they were about to cry. “You seemed plenty busy, Fred.” When you turned on your heel and tried to stomp off, Fred followed you.

Followed you through empty corridors, easily outpacing you.

“Why won’t you come with us? Why aren’t you spending time with us?”

“Why aren’t you two spending time with me then?” Your voice sounded like he’d brought sandpaper to an exposed nerve.

“No! Stop turning it around! I have to listen to George pouting every day--” Of course talk of him is what gets you to soften. “Will you fucking stop with that!? Acting like your world revolves around him? If it did you’d come with us--”

“I can’t come with you, I need to finish my schooling! Some of us are studying for a job that requires a complete education, Frederick! Not all of us can just run off without thinking--”

There it was.

“And our plan is bad because it doesn’t need us finishing up here?”

“Will you shut up Fred? You’re taking words out of my mouth!”

“Then say your bloody words!”

Later on, Fred would be thankful that you two were in a relatively private location.

“IT’S NOT MY JOB TO COME WITH YOU, ALRIGHT? I’M ALLOWED TO BE UPSET YOU TWO ARE LEAVING!”

“IF YOU WERE OUR FRIEND YOU’D BE HAPPY FOR US--”

“SOME OF US ARE EMOTIONALLY MATURE ENOUGH TO FEEL MORE THAN ONE THING AT ONCE, FREDERICK.”

Fred felt himself pale, and pressed on despite George making his way over.

“Nice enough of you to call me emotionally immature. At least I can say what’s on my mind.”

Now you look every bit as hurt as he was. Good. Though, he had to admit, you looked much more intimidating now that you were getting truly angry.

“Shut up Fred. The only reason you’re picking fights right now is because you’re scared about leaving!”

“I’M NOT SCARED!” Fred’s voice bellowed and echoed down the hall. He shrugged off George’s hand on his shoulder.

“You are! You’re scared and confused and nervous, you’re just too fucking proud to admit that you might actually care about the risk you’re taking!”

“Will you two fucking settle down?!” Like always, George was trying to be the voice of reason. The mature one.

What horseshit. And he couldn’t even go let off steam at practice.

“Why should I calm down-- he’s the one who came over picking a fight!”

“You’re the one pouting like a fucking five year old, aren’t you? Why don’t you tell George then why you won’t go with us? Been making him upset too but you’re too busy thinking about yourself--”

You looked like you might cry again, though more than that you looked like you might smack Fred. “I shouldn’t have to explain why I need to stay here to be a healer! If you had any fucking sense of empathy you’d understand--”

“Hey!” This time, George stepped between the two of you. Apparently, hearing George bellow was enough to stun you both enough to stop shouting for a bit. “Go walk it off, Y/N.”

You gave George a look that Fred knew would bring his brother near tears later. George seemed near tears more than usual these days.

It only made Fred want to argue with you more. You were so determined to deny that George obviously couldn’t love you, that you rejected the notion that he might be just as sensitive as you were about some of these things. You rationalized his tears and fears so far away from yourself that any guilt on your part seemed absolved.

Fred opened his mouth to get the last word in, but stopped when he felt a rather rough grip on his shirt from his brother. He used his forearm and pushed him away. “Don’t touch me mate. I’m allowed to get mad at her.” You were far enough away that he could speak at least part of his mind. “Just because you like her doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to get mad at her. She’s my friend too. She’s been a prat, and she hasn’t been supportive enough even though she was one of the first people you told!”

“She’s upset!”

“SO? We all are! She doesn’t support us. And I’m not going to spend the rest of the year watching her feel sorry for herself about it. I’m sick of watching you pine over someone who’s too stubborn to even try to talk to us in the hall.”

Fred shoved past his brother and bit down his tears. He was mature. He didn’t spill either of your secrets. That was mature. Keeping secrets even when you were mad at the other person was mature. He knew that.

Something hot and wet was falling down his face. It must have been raining, he thought, as he walked blindly outside into the autumn night. It rained often in Scotland. People were often so focused on the fact that he and George were twins that they forgot that Fred was exactly in the middle of the rest of the Weasley children.

George complained to him once about not feeling like an individual, and like a good big brother, like someone mature, he bit his tongue and listened to his twin’s feelings.

Of course he knew what it was like to play second fiddle. He got labeled as the ‘mean’ twin. The rude one. The hot headed one. There was truth in that, and Fred wouldn’t deny it, but it stung still. You’d been nice about it though. You’d called him bold. Knew him apart immediately. Sanded down his edges over the years.

You’d called him your best friend last year. Laughed when he’d asked about George. Said you were always too nervous to tell George what was exactly on your mind. It was always so easy to talk to him you’d said.

So why wouldn’t you talk to him anymore? If you were supposed to be his best friend, why weren’t you trying to spend time with him?

Fred coughed into his sleeve as he finally ran out of breath. Eyes swollen. You were supposed to be his best friend too. You were supposed to prioritize him too. He was angry too about being kicked off the team.

He wasn’t scared. This was going to be an adventure. Fred landed himself onto the grass, shoulders shaking. If he could shout, he would. But instead his teeth seemed to lock together.

Fred Weasley didn’t get scared. The late nights he spent working on things where his heart wouldn’t stop pounding against his chest wasn’t fear. It was excitement, obviously. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t scared reading about more muggle attacks. He didn’t get scared remembering that you and so many other of his friends were muggleborns.

He certainly hadn’t panicked realizing what could happen to you and your family when you’d joined the D.A.

Fred Weasley didn’t get scared.

He didn’t cry either. His face was red as he rubbed his sleeve rather roughly against his eyes. The rain had gotten in them, clearly.

He would show you. He’d show you he wasn’t scared. He’d show you that he was mature. He’d show everyone that this was a great idea, and he’d been smart convincing George to do it.

Far off in the distance, a few first years were chatting amongst themselves, wondering why one of the Weasley twins was sitting alone in the grass, rubbing his eyes so harshly on such a perfectly clear night.

George was sad. Fred didn’t like it when his twin was sad. It crawled under his skin. It scratched at his bones.

Fred knew why his twin was sad, and it made him even more uncomfortable.

You were also upset. Something that shouldn’t have bothered Fred as much as it did, seeing as the two of you were arguing at the moment.

That didn’t matter though. Everything would be alright obviously-- he was the strong twin. He didn’t get sad like George did. He wasn’t going to be the type to lose his mind over someone not spending time with him, obviously.

He would never make George admit it, but the younger of the two of them had always leaned a bit towards anxious tendencies.

It was Fred’s job to keep himself strong so that George didn’t have to worry about things.

Thinking about you again made him rankled.

If you would just stop ignoring them, everything would get better. He couldn’t make you come with them-- and deep inside his gut Fred understood why you wouldn’t come, but if you would put everything aside everything would get better.

George was shaking his head when Fred asked if he was going to come to breakfast. “Don’t feel well?”

“It’s my stomach.”

Fred frowned at his brother. If he were the type to be honest with himself, he would admit that he was making things worse for his brother.

“Stay in bed then. Umbridge will only make things worse for you.”

Perhaps he could have been more comforting.

Perhaps he could have been better at explaining things.

Perhaps Fred shouldn’t have argued with George after his argument with you.

Perhaps Fred wanted someone to scrutinize his emotions like people scrutinized George’s.

Perhaps that was a silly thought. Fred Weasley didn’t get sad, after all.

When it was the three of you in detention it was easy to laugh it all off. Sure, writing in your own blood hurt, but you could all laugh it off imagining what may happen if you’d misspelled a word.

It was an awful experience, but it was easier to forget when it was the three of you.

Now though?

“Keep writing, Weasley.”

Fred wondered if he would be able to knock the lights out of Nott before anyone could stop him.

Being expelled wouldn’t be the worst thing--

Unless they snapped his wand.

For the moment though, Fred settled on a glare before staring back down at the parchment in front of him.

Just a little while longer.

I must act my age.

Malfoy sneered at him from across the room, no doubt excited to have some sort of revenge from the beat down he’d gotten just a few weeks prior. “Yes, come on then George. Or are you illiterate?”

Fred was about to open his mouth to make a crack, but you seemed to beat him to it. “That’s Fred.”

You’d never spoken in detention before. Malfoy strode over to your desk, and you met his stare with another one, “What was that?” Astonished, Fred watched you rise to your feet, eye to eye with Malfoy who seemed to flinch and step back. “I said that’s Fred. If we’re here for detention, perhaps you’re here for a remedial lesson then since you can’t seem to understand two word sentences. Don’t get cocky Malfoy.”

“You’re the one who’s being cocky if you can’t even duel.”

“Clearly I don’t need to duel you to send you off crying to the hospital wing.”

“Miss Y/L/N!” Umbridge’s voice was shrill from her desk. “Another week of detention for threatening another student.”

Instinctively, Fred grabbed his bag when the timer went off, ready to grab your sleeve and pull you out. Unfortunately it seemed Umbridge had another plan.

“Miss Y/L/N. You’ll be staying behind. I need another twenty lines from you.”

You shot Fred a look, as if you were reading his mind. Rarely could he read someone as well as he could read George.

This was simple though.

Get going.

Fred knew your footsteps. He’d memorized them over the years. When he heard you walk by the statue he was hiding behind, he stepped out just enough for you to see him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You frowned at him, “I did. He called you illiterate.”

Ah yes. Hufflepuff loyalty.

Hufflepuff stubbornness.

You two continued to stare each other down before finally Fred spoke again. “Your hand is bleeding.”

“Stunning observation there.”

With a scowl, he gestured for you to follow him behind the statue and down one of the hidden passages. “Let me clean it up for you at least.”

You sat down on the cold stone floor once the two of you were far enough away to be heard, and continued to glower at him as he sat across from you.

Fred kept your gaze inch for inch.

“You’re being awful nice for someone who saw fit to yell at me for being shy.”

“If you think that’s why I’m upset you’re just as thick as I thought.”

Fred kept the edge in his voice, but he kept his touch gentle as he dabbed the blood off your hand.

“How am I supposed to spend time with you two when you’re constantly busy with other people--”

“You just come over!” Fred’s voice echoed throughout the passage, louder than he’d intended. However, he was on a roll. “You’ve been our friend for years, you already know our friends because they’re your friends too, you spent the fucking summer with us! You just come and sit down, but you’re too fucking set on George coming over to do that aren’t you? You’ve always got that love story stuck in your head. Can’t see past it far enough to think about your other friends.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? I spend plenty of time with my friends!”

“Do you?”

The lack of comprehension on your face was frustratingly astounding. Biting back the urge to start screaming like he’d been doing into his pillow the past few nights, Fred allowed his voice to sound as bitter as he wanted as he rubbed a salve onto your hand. “We hardly ever see you! Just have to watch you stare at us from across the hall. Do you think I don’t notice? It’s obvious what you think, that you’re wishing someone will come over and tell you it’s alright. You’re not the only nervous one you know! You’re not the only one who gets scared or anxious-- have you thought about that? Getting so upset when I offered you to come with us-- you could have just said no!”

“I did say no!”

“You got so defensive-- like we were attacking you! You’re a muggleborn, I wanted you out of here before things got nasty! Making it sound like a terrible idea-- for every Malfoy that says those terrible words to your face, there’s a dozen others who are too cowardly to. But now Voldemort’s back! Can’t believe you want to stay here where it’s so dangerous. Your career isn't everything! Being a healer can wait!”

You were curiously silent, and if Fred were to snap out of his heated rant he would have noticed the odd expression on your face.

“That’s another thing, Y/N! You’re always so caught on George! He’s not the whole world you know-- do you know what it’s like to hardly see your closest friend, and when you do see them alone they just talk about their crush? It’s bloody annoying! Makes you feel like you’re not a priority! Or hearing that your idea to leave is a bad one when you’re just trying to be brave--” Fred’s voice felt thick, his vision became blurry with tears but he continued. “I am brave! And just because I’m not George doesn’t mean I don’t get scared or sad-- Everyone always prattles on about how he’s feeling, I don’t feel wonderful all the time either! But I have to keep pushing on, like nothing is bothering me! Because this was all my fucking plan, and if I don’t push on all this work will have been for nothing!”

Fred forgot sometimes, that you could read him better than you could read George. “I’ve made you feel looked over, haven’t I? Is that what it is Freddie?”

He wasn’t supposed to cry. So why was he crying? “You have! You said I was your best friend, and then you just start ignoring me--”

It was a strange hug that you wrapped him in. He had to crouch down on his knees to be properly held in your arms, but it didn’t stop him from crying into your shoulder as he continued to rant and rave. It wasn’t until his throat ached from speaking that he noticed you rubbing circles into his back or your hand in his hair.

He was brought back to many years before, how it felt to be wrapped in his mother’s arms after a long tantrum.

“I’m sorry Fred.”

He pulled away, sitting on his heels and watched you rub your own teary eyes. “I should have thought more about how you felt. You’re right.”

“Why won’t you just come over to be near us?”

“I was scared you two might not want me there. You always look like you’re having so much fun.”

His brow furrowed, what a silly reason. It hardly made any sense. “You’ve known us for years. You spent the summer with us. Why wouldn’t we want you there?”

You gave him a very halfhearted shrug, giving the impression of someone who didn’t quite understand themselves. “Don’t know. Since all of this has started… haven’t quite felt myself. I’ve been burying myself in studying. Trying not to think of much.” you looked as if you were willing yourself up to say something. “Was that why you invited me then? Because you were worried about me?”

“Someone’s got to-- you can’t even manage a simple disarming spell.”

Thankfully, you had the grace to laugh at that, even with tears in the corner of your eyes. “That’s mean!”

“It’s not mean if it’s true.”

“I want to be a healer. I’m not leaving early. I’m bad at fighting, but I’m good at healing. So I’ll be doing that during the war. I know you’ll do something silly and get your ear blasted off. Someone’s going to need to know how to patch it back on.”

“I’m the smart twin. That’ll be George who does something that stupid.”

You waved your hand as if it were all unimportant. “My point stands. I’m not afraid of Malfoy. I’m staying here and finishing up my education and I’m going to do well on my NEWTS so I can get into a good program.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Again, you shrugged. “Can’t just let you two try to beat up everyone for me.” With a half smile as you wiped away your tears with your sleeve, “And I reckon I made you feel bad about your choice?”

Fred hardly needed to nod as he shifted himself to sit beside you, arm squished against arm as you both leant back on the cold stone wall. “Didn’t make me feel good about convincing George to leave early.”

“Ah. I should have known it was your idea.” There was a silence, as you took his hand in yours and tapped your fingers against his palm. “I do support you, you know. And I know your ideas and marketing will do well.”

It was nice to hear you mention the marketing-- it’d been Fred drafting up the ideas for it. George tended to be the one to work out the specifics.

“I just get sad thinking about being apart from both of you. And I could have said that better.”

“We’ll miss you too, you know.”

“Even if I’ve made you sad?”

“Yeah. It’ll be hard for me to make you feel guilty about that if you’re all the way here in Hogwarts.”

When you pinched his hand, Fred let out a loud laugh.

“I could have said this all better. I’m sorry.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “It’s hard to talk about this stuff.”

“It’s difficult to open up when we’re scared.”

You read him too well.

You knew that he did get scared, every once in a while.

Even if he’d never admit it.

It was Fred who woke up first, shivering with an ache in his throat and his head with a rather harsh nudge to his thigh.

“Why are you two in here?”

He would have known that irritated voice anywhere.

“Morning Georgie.”

Fred sat up, and realized he’d fallen asleep using your forearm as a pillow.

“Answer my question.”

Fairly certain he had a fever, Fred looked up at his twin. “Clearly we had a passionate night of lovemaking, as evidenced by us both being fully clothed.” When George continued to scowl down at him, Fred let out a shrug and a cough, “Talked. Patched things up. Fell asleep.”

George used the back of his hand to test the temperature of Fred’s forehead. “You’ve got a fever.”

“Thank you Healer George.”

“Oh shut up. I was worried about you.”

“How’d you find us?”

“Borrowed the map from Harry.”

You finally began to stir, shivering just as much as Fred had been.

Sleeping in a cold tunnel towards the end of fall truly was a horrible idea.

“Why’s my arm asleep?” when you noticed George, you frowned a bit, “Why’re you here?”

“He came looking for us. He’s jealous I got to spend the night alone with you because of our torrid love affair, and that’s something he wants instead.”

Like always, the comment seemed to fly over your head. “We don’t have one of those.”

“Don’t hide our love, Y/N.”

George rolled his eyes, and offered his hand to help you stand. “You two are hopeless. Let’s get you to the hospital wing.”

“Not going to help up your brother?” Fred chuckled as he watched George put his coat over your shoulders before helping up Fred and wrapping his scarf around his brother’s neck. While he was sliding mittens onto his brother’s hands he shook his head.

“Just glad you two aren’t fighting anymore. Thought I was going to have a heart attack from the stress.”

“Sorry Georgie.” both you and Fred spoke at the same time, resulting in an amused smile from George.

“Hopeless. Just like I said.” with that, he slung an arm over Fred and wrapped his other around your waist. “C’mon. Now you both get to spend Saturday sick in bed. Terrible judgement, you two.”

Fred grinned as you let out a tired laugh.

Things felt a bit closer to normal.

#george weasley #george weasley oneshot #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fanfic #fic: duet #my writing

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guigz1-coldwar · 3 years

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'Greenlight, Redlight: Part 2' : New chapter for "Always for the greater cause..." is out !

Chapter Summary: The infiltration mission in the Cheyenne Mountain Complex continues for Bell & Naga before revelations & dark secrets are discovered...

To read it on AO3, click here!

Taglist: @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart

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26th February 1981, 22h25

Yirina 'Bell' Grigoriev, Ex-KGB, Perseus

Entering the Cheyenne Mountain Complex by its South Entrance

The mission didn't even actually start as we were simply having our feet inside the outside part of the complex that we almost got our cover blown by a suspicious American soldier that I managed to kill thanks to the tomahawk that Naga gave me before moving to get here and after hiding the body of that poor devil right below a military truck, we could resume our infiltration and since Naga was knowing the place, he was the one taking the lead.

Our point of entrance inside the complex was in fact located at the south part of it as it was looking less protected than the north side and we can prove that since we managed to arrive inside the tunnel by its service door without been detected by any guards and lights from the outside but now that we got inside, it was going to be more complicated for us to get to our destination in the base since we don't know exactly what we could face.

We did some walk inside the main tunnel linking both entrances before we decided to retreat ourselves inside a little maintenance unit, to try to find a good plan to get to the archives room but also to avoid the few armed patrols going around to watch over the main tunnel. We stepped inside a little room with about 4 meters between each wall and it was a bit confusing to find myself in a little room like with Naga...

"Do you have a map or something of the place?" I asked him silently after taking off my hood, the heat making me sweat from having it around on my head as my equipment was doing the same.

"Hey, you should get your hood back on, we can't be recognized here," Naga advised me as he was staying near the door, putting his left ear against it to listen outside. "You're deaf or something? put it back," He ordered to me.

"Why I should have it every time? I got nothing to hide," I replied, having my XM4 in my right hand and the hood in the other one in its palm.

"Maybe but we're inside one of the most protected American bases of the United States," He argued, looking at me through his sunglasses. "And besides, that's a rule in the Collective: you can't remove your hood like that," He added, shaking his head and putting it back against the door. "You want to have your head glued on some wanted poster on the walls of every West agency?"

"Okay but..." I rolled my eyes as I was realizing that he was right about not complying with that rule. "I'm just taking a free breath while we're in a little room with nothing to get us to spot so, relax," I suggested, taking a calm voice, not to compare about the one Naga is using.

"As you wish..." He breathed through his green & white detailed mask. "But once outside, you got this back on, understood?" He demanded to me.

"Of course," I complied, nodding at him. "So, at my initial..."

"Wait, keep quiet," Naga cut me in, gesturing with his right hand to keep my mouth shut as we start to hear some footsteps outside the room, prompting me to get near Naga without making any loud noises, wanting to listen to what was happening.

"Hank, nothing weird here as usual, over," It was the voice of a soldier right through the door, speaking either to one of his friends by radio or in person.

"Understood, you will get soon replaced by Walter," Another voice was heard, sounding a bit weird as we could realize that it was coming through a radio. "Hey, personal communications, there's this Hockey game between the Minnesota North Stars against the Boston Bruins, you should come to see it as you're a fan of the North Stars," The voice added, sounding less authoritarian than before and funnier.

"Yeah, did I miss anything?" The soldier asked, his voice getting a bit closer to the door as if he was leaned against it

"A lot of brawls, that's what you're missing, buddy," The voice through the radio replied in a personal way, making me & Naga look at each other in confusion...was it like that in every highly protected military basis of the Americans?

"And of course, you put me on patrol the night they're playing, we know well that there's nothing exciting happening here," The soldier sighed as I could see Naga's eyes rolling around through his sunglasses, finding it funny as I was keeping my serious. "I'm finished in two minutes and I'm coming in, over," The soldier continued before we start to hear footsteps going away from the door, Naga releasing a relieving breath through his mask.

"Dammit, typical of the Americans..." He said, looking to resist laughing on the part of his face that I could see. "Always talking about hockey, maple syrup, and their food, all of this, you know," He told, making me narrow my eyes. "What? What did I say?" He asked me curious about seeing me like that.

"Naga, that's the Canadians," I muttered at him, a smile on my face as I was surprised to hear him complain about the wrong people. "In here, it's more Burgers, fries, soccer, 'The American Dream', all of those things," I explained, moving away from the door while still keeping a low voice in the case of any surprises coming through the door.

"What? That's what Jackal told me about the USA!" He exclaimed, blaming his friend that I never saw for the moment since my foots landed on US soil. "He said to me that....did he lied to me?" He looked down away from me as if he did have a realization in his head. "Hopefully that I didn't go in public, I would have acted like a...Canadian like you said,"

"Uhm, excuse me?" A female voice, Wraith, was heard inside my left ear. "Can you two stop about talking of what the stereotypes of this country and be focused back on the mission?" She demanded to us, using a rather serious voice, never sounded so serious.

"Oh, sorry, I forget that you were there," Naga apologized, his radio in his left hand.

"I can hear you well, where are you exactly?" Wraith asked us.

"Now?" I started, putting my index finger on the earset in my left ear. "In a little maintenance room near the South Entrance," I responded, giving our possible location to her as we weren't having anything on us that could help to locate us inside for her. "We were hiding from patrols and to plan our advance inside the complex before Naga...well...you know," I added, Naga raising an eyebrow that could tell me that I didn't say the good words in front of him.

"Just, get back concentrated on the mission, I'll contact you if I've got anything for you...or contact me if you need help," She recommended in a good voice to us, acknowledging the risks and talking about the US now wasn't the thing to do before my earset went off for the moment.

"Well, let's not talk about the US and better on the mission, right?" I suggested to Naga who nodded at me instantly. "So, I'm asking my initial question again: do you have a map of the place?" I finally managed to ask that question and it's without any words that I got my answer as Naga got his hands inside his green tactical vest to take out a paper and unwrapping it, discovering a small detailed plan. "That's...that's the map?" I was surprised to see how little detailed the map was, looking not so good for me.

"Yeah, thanks Aldrich for that, the guy is drawing like a kid and even, a kid can do better than him," He replied, looking at the map and sighing at it, his eyes crossing around the paper. "Ah, we're here..." He said, pointing out to the bottom of the paper where a grey tube was drawn, especially a small gap in the tube. "...and we need to go there," He moved his hand across the map before stopping next to a big marked red circle with the words: ARCHIVES ROOM, HERE in red as the circle was showing a little room at one part of the base that was showed in blue.

"At least, Aldrich knows where we need to go," I mumbled, seeing the path that we were going to take to reach that room. "We just need to turn left at the first tunnel we're seeing and moving along it until we can join the room," I elaborate, taking the most perfect path that was short.

"We should try that and if we have doubts, we're checking back the map," Naga commented as he wraps back the map into a normal format and putting it back in his jacket before moving to grab back his LC-10 he leaned against a red barrel and open slightly the door to peek his eyes outside. "It's good, no one's around here, let's go," He said, taking a step outside as I followed him, putting my both hands on my XM4.

I stepped outside to get back inside the tunnel that was linking both entrances of the base, finding it empty of any American armed patrols and enlighten by green lights along with it as we started to move out away from the room we hide in to get ourselves deeper inside the complex, staying cautious and our fingers on the trigger of our guns, knowing that we can be surprised by a patrol and that ain't the thing we want...for now...

The first tunnel we saw going to the left was perfect for us but we needed to be aware as we were entering a high securitized sector of the base and despite my advice of taking another path, Naga insisted to take it as it was the fastest way to reach the archives room and I found myself to comply, entering a sort of little warehouse...

Of course, we weren't alone here but we got the advantage that the lights were turned off to take over the guards as their locations were now well known from us, we just needed to see where the lights were coming and we could know where the guards.

"Leave the bodies here, no need to hide them," Naga spoke up after we killed one of the last remaining patrols in that 'warehouse' that was keeping the access towards another tunnel near it, our objective as I was going to move one of the bodies away from the row we took care of that patrol.

"If we got our cover blown..." I mumbled, taking back my XM4 that I put on the ground and along with it, the radio that the guy I was going to drag was using.

"Don't worry, they will only find out when we will be gone," He assured me, sounding very sure of himself but not for me as he moved near the doors leading out of the warehouse. "A few meters and we're good," Naga said, opening the doors to peek his head between them."And it's good, follow me," He ordered, complying since minutes as always to stay behind him and he was right, only a few meters from the doors we took, the archives room was here...

"To say about been lucky," I thought to myself, finding that the base was in fact well constructed...for someone to get in here...

"And on the map, it says that the vehicle hangar is just nearby so we already got our evacuation transport for us," Naga scoffed while been focused on aiming in front of him as he was moving on the side to get his right hand on the handle of the door which was marked 'Archives Room: No trespassing!' "Okay, time for us to get into the most interesting part," He joked as he opened the door widely, discovering the room in the middle of it, a space with computers and some listening devices on the walls...but not only...

In the middle too, there were three men dressed up in blue work suits with a US Space Force ensign on their shoulders along with their names, and when everyone's eyes met with us opening the door, it was like we stepped in at the wrong moment but now, there was no time to be in a funny mood, me starting the first bullets towards one of the guys that were trying to flee to reach a big red button near the wall with the listening devices and killing him.

Suddenly, my gun stopped firing as I didn't reload, Naga having done the same thing along with me and now finding myself less stupid in here, causing me to grab the Tomahawk in my right hand and to charge the tallest one as Naga took the other one for him.

That guy was looking massive for me and he was ready to receive me at the impact but I saw it right into his eyes knowing that he was going to counter me at this, so, I stopped right at a respective distance from him, having started to move his arms to grab, only grabbing thin air as I threw the tomahawk right in his left leg, making him kneel and shouting in pain before I took it back, and then, slice his throat with the blade of the tomahawk in a straight line. He tried to stop the bleeding with his hands but it was useless as he falls on his back before I looked at Naga who was brutally stabbed with a combat knife the other guy that he managed to get over one of the desks....the blue work suit of the poor devil going red...

"Good riddance, Bell, get on this computer, that's your part," Naga ordered, cleaning up the blood off the blade of his knife on the dead guy's body, pointing with his other hand, one of the desks behind him and I complied, taking the moment to reload my XM4 with another mag before moving to reach the desk and sitting on the chair.

"Let's get started," I spoke to myself, stretching my fingers and hands before starting the computer again.

"Wraith, we're in!" Naga said, wanting to alert her from our improvement but to our surprise, nothing came back as a response. "Wraith, do you copy?" He asked, sounding a bit worried. "Wraith, are you here? We're in!" He repeated before he moved in front of me at the other side of the desk near the listening devices. "Fuck, either the communications aren't working here...or they got a jammer," He supposed as I was struggling at my side.

"Shit, it's asking me a password," I mumbled, finding myself block like an idiot again.

"Find something interesting, they're always keeping something giving us the answer," Naga suggested, prompting me to look around the desk, trying to find something that could help me but the only thing I could see was a picture of the US president, Ronald Reagan and to try, I typed his last name and...

"It worked!" I exclaimed, seeing a big green 'connection successful...processing...' on the screen. "They were using their own president's last name as a password," I said, Naga looking at me with narrowed eyes.

"That asshole? Even me would never use his name for something like that," Naga confirmed, making a little laugh through his mask.

"There, let's get down to business, shall we?" I told to myself as I needed to work with some magic to get exactly what we needed and after a few instants, I reached a repertory where there were 2 files..."I've got something about Greenlight...but also about that Numbers program..." I stated, seeing those two names on the screen.

"Try to print them, there's a printing machine just near me," Naga suggested as I was already going to find the command to do this, and just seconds after, the printing machine was already starting to process, and then, during that and while Naga was having his eyes on the machine, my eyes went on some audio tapes...two audiotapes that were near the computer...two having a familiar name on it...Stitch.

I took them in my hands by my curiosity, finding it weird that Stitch's name was on some audiotapes inside the Cheyenne Mountain Complex and I decided as Naga wasn't looking, to put them inside my jacket, wanting to check them personally in my side later when we'll be back at the safehouse.

"Got one...looks interesting, it's about Greenlight," Naga declared as he took in his hands the first paper that came out of the printing machine. "Keeping it for later, you'll check after the mission", He said, getting the paper in his jacket before his eyes went on the second & last paper he took in his hands. "And here's the..." He then stopped himself to look closer at it, the part of his face not looking good. "Wait, why is Aldrich's name mentioned in that paper? Said to be one of the supervisors of the Numbers program..." He revealed, feeling the anger in his voice.

"What does that mean?" I asked him, going up from my chair and taking the XM4 off the ground.

"That fucker lied to us, that's what meaning here, Bell," Naga replied, showing me briefly the paper in his hand. "He lied to us about the Numbers program, he knew it well,"

"Bell, Naga? Are you here?" Wraith's voice came back, surprising us. "Anyone?"

"Wraith, we copy, what happened?" Naga took the lead, responding before I could do so even if I decided to let him do it.

"I've got to change location, seems that the Americans are getting too much suspicious, do you get what we need?" She responded in a normal voice as the sound of a car engine was heard through my earset, probably driving away from the shack we met with Naga earlier.

"Yes, we..."

"All units, intruders in the base, I repeat, intruders are in the base!" The voice of a man echoed all around the room through a speaker on the corner of the room. "Intruders are in the base, deadly force is authorized if necessary!" The voice added before the alarm went off along with the light, going red.

"Shit, Wraith, they spotted us!" I raised my voice, starting to move with Naga on another door and staying behind him.

"Fuck, get the hell out of here!" Wraith ordered us as Naga force open the door in front of him with a big nudge. "Meeting at the extraction point with the others, out!" She added before her voice was no longer heard.

"Quick, Bell, to the vehicle hangar, follow me!" Naga shouted as the alarm was going off, the hallways enlighten with red lights and during my run...I was starting to hear voices again...multiple voices before it became only one...I was still running behind Naga, staying focused on it...but the voice was still around here in my head.

"We'll soon take control of the Numbers..."

"From the safety of..."

"I'm sorry but you become dangerous for him..."

These voices continued in my ears, like echoes until we arrived in the hangar of the complex after killing along the way some soldiers that tried to stop us and by chance, we didn't get greeted by bullets for the moment as our eyes were looking around to see a perfect vehicle for us.

"That APC," Naga pointed to me the big armored APC in the middle of the hangar, well-positioned to be already driving away. "Get on the turret, I'm taking the wheels," Naga suggested, running towards the APC and I soon complied to his suggestion, climbing up to open the hatch for the MG gunner in the back of the APC as Naga was moving to reach the driving post.

"They're here, open fire!" I turned around when I saw a squad of soldiers arriving from the very same door that we used to get here as I was positioned well on the gunner position, causing me to take the MG in my hands and to open fire in their direction, hitting two of them as the others were getting in cover.

"Brace yourself, we're leaving," Naga scoffed, keeping a positive and funny attitude not like me before he starts the APC engine and driving away from the hangar while under fire from the soldiers coming inside the hangar.

He drove the APC in the main tunnel, wanting to turn to his right to reach back the South Entrance and leave by it but the doors of it were already closing in and the APC wasn't looking good to force it without getting useless and with only a second to react, he instead turns to his left to get to the North Entrance, hoping that it would be open.

The soldiers were still trying to stop us along the way, causing me to use the MG on them, and also on the attempts to stop the APC. It became a pursuit when some cars arrived behind the APC to catch us, prompting me to get focused on them, firing at them with the best of the MG I was controlling, Naga not helping me in his driving as he was making zigzags to avoid the home-made roadblocks on our way out but at least getting one truck out of action...

"Hold yourself!" Naga shouted to me as I turned my head around for a second to see that the North entrance was soon getting closed and he managed to pass with the APC through the gap between the two sides of the door as the other trucks pursuing us stopped in their moves inside the tunnel. "Woohoo, that's so great, one more and it'll be good," He added as there was one grilled fenced portal to pass until we were out but then...

As I was going to put my hands back on the MG that I suddenly feel pain in my right shoulder, causing me to fall inside the APC, seeing Naga driving it before I look at my shoulder, seeing some blood coming out of a bullet hole...that pain...I was hit by a bullet and the pain was impossible to ignore.

"Naga...I...got...I got shot," I tried to say while moving up slowly towards one of the benches of the APC, not wanting to stay laid down on the metal ground to try to stabilize my wound as a loud shock was hear inside...meaning that he got us outside.

"What?" He muttered before he turned around his head for a second to look at me, holding my shoulder with my left hand. "Shit, hold on, Bell, I'm driving as fast as I can," He tried to reassure me, keeping his eyes on the road as my head was slowly getting dizzy.

We didn't bring first-aid equipment with us and I tried to find something that could stop the bleeding temporarily until proper healing was done on me and in the APC but there was nothing that I could really use for apart from my hand that was getting filled slowly with my own blood and by looking at it, my head was getting dizzy faster, struggling to keep myself alive before I, unfortunately, fall on my back on the bench, trying to stay awake at my best...not wanting to pass out or cry...I tried to...getting the hood off my head but that was the last thing I could do now...

...feeling my body shutting down before my eyes closed too...passing out on that bench...

#cod bocw #cod cold war #cod black ops cold war #cod cw #call of duty cold war #cod #call of duty #cod bell #black ops cold war #fem!bell #freya wraith helvig #kapano naga vang

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agardenofmonsters · 3 years

Text

Fae BF | Pollux | Part 2

TransMasc Reader x Masc Fae Boyfriend

You x He/Him

Yay you get to meet my new character who I absolutely adore <3 hope you like him too!

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

The world seems to tilt. The sky shimmers.

You back away from the Fae until your back hits a tree. Looking at your hands, you could almost feel the manacles clamping onto your wrists.

“Don’t act so upset,” the Fae calls. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“My whole life…” you whisper frantically. “I’ve been trapped by a name that wasn’t mine...and now that I have my proper name...I am trapped yet again!”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he says unsympathetically. “Life is what you make of it….now look alive.”

You snap to attention, feeling a little dizzy. His hand is outstretched.

“Come to me, pet.”

Your body straightens and starts walking over to the Fae.

You hate how natural it feels to obey him.

You pause as you reach him, and you watch your hand lift and place itself onto Pollux’s. He takes your hand and leans down to kiss it, sending a surge of goosebumps up your arm.

“Let’s get out of here.”

He grips your hand a little tighter. And like he did earlier, he takes you quickly through the meadow towards the monolithic rock formation like you’re fast forwarding through a movie. He uses the stone as a staircase, but his feet keep stepping even though he runs off the top of it. Despite not being able to see any of the crystal-clear steps, Pollux does not stumble, and neither do you.

Only when you’re a couple stories up do the steps level out onto a platform. Pollux slows down and looks at you with bright, shining eyes.

“Now remember,” he taunts with a shit-eating grin. “Be on your best behavior! Don’t want any Fae to get mad at you….Trust me.”

You don’t respond.

“Alright, let’s go!” He says cheerfully, turning you around so he’s behind you. He plants a hand on your back and pushes you forward.

It’s like walking in the air, except the treetops poke through the crystalline floor. Soft, fluffy pink clouds furnish the space, billowing in giant mounds and spanning across the ground. Tree branches poke up out of the ground like flowers.

Everything was dusted with sparkles...or at least that was how everything looked.

Pollux pushes you towards the middle of two rows of booths, each with its own sets of fairies talking amongst each other in this little marketplace.

But the romantic air of the environment starts dropping in pieces as each group of Fae realize that you are there.

Then they all just stare. With their big gemstone eyes.

They would be beautiful if you weren’t completely angry or terrified.

You see now where Pollux is taking you—a giant stone obelisk stands proud at the end of the marketplace in a large clearing, and at the bottom of it is an extremely tall Fae with a crown on his head giving instruction to two smaller Fae.

“Pollux, Pollux!” you murmur urgently to him.

He ignores you.

“Ohhhh Aubergine!” Pollux yells in a sing-song fashion. “Guess what I found!”

He gives you a hard push and this time you fall to your knees. The tall Fae pinches the bridge of his nose before turning to actually look at Pollux. His gaze then falls upon you and your stomach knots with anxiety; he is breathtakingly beautiful. His ice blue eyes are accentuated by his dark purple skin, and his hair is a beautiful silvery white. You scramble to stand under his intimidating gaze, but his countenance shows no emotion.

He looks back at Pollux, cool demeanor turning icy: “What have you done?”

“Saving this poor human from the woods, obviously,” he replies, unfazed by Aubergine’s chastising.

“You know the consequences of interfering with the mortal realm, and yet you refuse to take heed of the warnings.”

Pollux rolls his eyes: “Don’t be so dramatic. I found this one alone, miles from society.”

“I don’t care for your attitude, Pollux. You have stolen a human from their home to which they can no longer return. Have you no sympathy?”

Pollux’s wings flutter angrily: “You’re just jealous that I caught one.”

“I have no need for jealousy—I just want you to understand the gravity of your actions.”

Aubergine turns to you: “On behalf of the Fae realm, I apologize for the actions of Pollux and what it has led to.”

Before you can say anything, Pollux grabs your arm and starts dragging you away from the Fae, muttering angrily under his breath.

“I’ll show him…”

“Ouch, Pollux,” you say, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “You’re hurting me.”

Pollux halts and lets go of you: “I’m sorry....he just really gets under my skin.”

“Who is he?”

“Prince Aubergine of the Fae realm. He basically just makes sure everything runs smoothly...and that rules are followed absolutely.”

“Oh, yeah I noticed his crown.”

He looks at you with a smirk: “He’s pretty handsome, isn’t he?”

You feel your cheeks get red: “I mean sure but it’s like...whatever!”

Pollux pinches your cheek: “I’m just playing with ya, don’t worry. Come on, I’m gonna show you my place.”

You follow him to a facade of white marble columns draped in luminescent fabrics. You take the large marble stairs up to a wall of drapes. Pollux parts the wall and gestures you inside with a highfalutin smile.

The inside is a large room with white marble flooring, gossamer fabrics billowing in the breeze at the outer borders. Some expensive-looking sofas sit near the middle of the room as what could be an elegant area for hosting, and a large bed waits at the very back, dressed in red linens. It was a bedroom fit for a king; and you get the strongest feeling that you don’t belong here.

Pollux is looking at you with a searching expression, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

You go up to a sofa almost in a trance and lay your hand on it, feeling the smoothness.

“Wow,” you whisper.

“What was that?” Pollux says, appearing suddenly behind you and making you jump.

You put a hand on your chest to slow your heart: “It’s amazing—what else do you want me to say?”

Pollux puts his hands on your hips and moves in close: “My bed’s pretty great too.”

Your heart jumps to your throat and you instinctively put your hands up between you two: “I’m sure it is, but it’s a no from me.”

Pollux sighs and releases you: “One day, pretty thing. One day.”

“I highly doubt that,” you mutter.

Pollux then flies over the seating area to plop down onto his bed. He stretches loudly and then turns to you.

“Very well, very well. Fetch me some food then.”

You feel your body engaging under his control but are confused: “Where do I even get food?”

“The booths near the entrance, darling. Someone will help you—oh! But first,” he says flying to the cabinets behind the sofas. “Let’s get you out of those clothes!”

He pulls out a pair of pants with an elastic-like waistband and leg cuffs: “These should fit you well.”

“I don’t need to change my clothes—”

“It’ll be fine; it’ll help you fit in better.”

“I doubt that,” you mutter under your breath.

He gives you a stack of clothes and crosses his arms, looking at you expectantly.

“Fine, I’ll wear them, but you can’t watch,” you demand.

“Alright, alright,” he says holding up his hands appeasingly. “I’ll go...here.”

He then goes to his bed and throws the covers over his head so there’s only his feet showing.

“Is this alright with you?” He asks, voice muffled from the sheets.

You don’t answer him and instead just start getting dressed. You pause for a breath because you don’t know what to do about your binder, but in the end you just decide to leave it on.

You look over at the lump of sheets where Pollux is hiding and shake your head confusedly. For a Fae who could do anything he wanted with you, he certainly doesn’t as much as he could. And for a second, you are almost grateful.

“Okay,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “I’m done.”

He sits up, sheets ruffling up his hair: “Well now, you look fantastic.”

Standing there, clutching yourself self-consciously while dressed in foreign clothes, you most certainly do not feel that way.

“Now, go get me some food, and be snappy!” He commands lightly.

You straighten up and leave the room without another word, wandering the path where you had been dragged by Pollux—and notice someone coming towards you.

Prince Aubergine.

Heat rises in your cheeks and you clutch your arms in reaction.

Just relax it’s fine, you’ve done nothing wrong…………….right?

You wonder whether to ignore him or give him a nod in deference and decide to go with the latter.

He watches you with icy, unrevealing eyes, but passes by you without saying anything.

You feel your blood pumping to your ears and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Alright, it’s over….now where do I get food?

Reaching the clearing where the booths were located, you are again met with stares.

“Uh—um. Pollux requested food. Is this where I can get some?”

After a beat, a kind fairy with dark skin and bright yellow eyes fetches a plate full of various fruits from one of the booths.

“This’ll do fine, hun. Pollux isn’t picky when it comes to food,” she says warmly.

“Th-thank you very much!” you sputter, taking the extravagant tray of food. You look around quickly and then do a quick bow as you rush away with your quarry.

On the way back you have more time to inspect the plate in all its glory: fruits with lustre and golden skin adorned the plate like a display fit for royalty. You are tempted to eat one, just to see what it would be like, but you remember the tales and decide against it.

I guess the Fae really do live in luxury.

As you approach the front with the plate, you hear two voices speaking in a repressed passion.

“I knew you couldn’t stand being away from me,” says Pollux.

“Of course I care about you, how could I not?” says the second.

“You only care about getting some, and I’d be okay with that if you didn’t treat me like I’m a fool when we’re not being intimate.”

“There are rules to be followed and you treat that as if they’re mere suggestions!”

“See, just admit you love controlling me more than you love me and get it over with.”

You trip.

On one of the curtains.

Fruit goes everywhere.

But you see.

Pollux.

And...Prince Aubergine.

Looking up from where you are on the ground, you scramble up, sputtering apologies.

Pollux storms over to you, face unreadable. He takes you…….and dips you, pressing a kiss on your lips. Pulling you back up on your feet and leaving you bewildered.

But the look.

On the Prince’s face.

It barely cracked the surface, but you saw it.

Heat.

Heat in those icy blue eyes.

What does it mean?

Pollux picks up a glittering pear that lay on the ground next to his feet, he brushes it off on his clothes, and takes a bite, juice dripping down his chin.

“Still tastes good to me,” he says cheerfully, laying an elbow on your shoulder as if the whole interaction never happened.

The Prince sighs, shaking his head, and leaves, stepping around the scattered fruit. Pollux eyes him the whole way, not even trying to be clandestine.

Before he exits he looks at Pollux: “We’re not done talking.”

#fae bf #monster boyfriend #pollux #aubergine #monstergarden #my writing #transmale reader #reader insert #exophilia

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

Rose Bushes

Two: The Crossing

Word Count: 8K+

Author’s Note: So, these will definitely have to be weekly updates, simply because they take so long to write. I hope that’s ok with every, and also, like, thank you so much for reading and enjoying! The feedback has been amazing!

Warning: discussion of abuse, murder, and kidnapping.

More chapters can be found here. [updated weekly]

Never mistake her silence for weakness. Remember that sometimes the air stills, before the onset of a hurricane. – Nikita Gill

Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI Academy. Quantico, Virginia.

There are few blessings in a line of work like the FBI, but an undeniable fact in Quantico is that men never see the women coming: specimens of the opposite sex are rare in the Quantico buildings to begin with, field agents even more so, the rarest category being a woman, in a field position, of an adequate dating age who was single. For the moment Agent Y/N Clarkson entered the FBI Academy two months ago, she had been mistaken for every inferior job her male counterparts could fathom - she had been an intern, a secretary, an accountant, an analyst, a lawyer, a human resources manager. If a man linked the position to the female sex, Clarkson had been mistaken for it, as many young, attractive women were. And for Clarkson, until the day before, her most consistently misogynistic co-worker was a man in counterterrorism named Fred.

When she walked into work one particular morning, armed with coffee and donuts for the team, Morgan and Reid were more than confused; it was suspicious. In the 64 days that Clarkson had been working there, Reid had seen her laugh on only six separate occasions, and somehow, she had only smiled four times. In fact, the woman was such an enigma to the rest of the BAU that the younger members had begun keeping tabs on what information they could get on her personal life: Morgan had a board under his desk tracking all the information they had gathered.

First, they knew that Agent Clarkson was a month and a half younger than Reid. They knew she had grown up between Maine and Virginia, they knew that something led to her having PTSD. Prentiss was quick to add that she was single, no signs of rings, no friends or family displayed in photos on her desk. She worked often using 24-hour clock, which seemed to hint at a law enforcement career before the FBI, but Garcia had come up empty after scouring the police databases in every US state.

But there she was, setting down fresh brewed coffee, that filled the bullpen with warm smells, at her desk across from Reid and opposite Morgan, and promptly handing the donut box towards the wide-eyed Doctor. Morgan leaned back in his chair, examining the smug look on Clarkson’s face as she handed him a coffee.

“Morning, Agent Morgan.” She smiled and nodded to him as he took his coffee, turning round to place Reid’s on his desk, taking the time to handle it with a napkin, knowing of the boy genius’ ongoing battle with germs. It took a few more moments for her to settle herself in her chair and log on to her computer, which was when Derek began to speak.

“Spencer.” He called, pulling the doctor’s attention away from the chocolate-frosted sprinkle donut Clarkson had bought especially for him. “Tell me something. How is it that Clarkson, the Ice Queen herself, has not only come into work today with a smile on her face, but offerings to share?” Morgan quizzed, Spencer taking a bite of his sweet treat and looking over at his colleagues, chewing for a moment before swallowing.

“Statistically, such heightened levels of joy come from activities one doesn’t do as often as they wish, thinking along the lines of seeing a loved one, getting a promotion, sex…” Reid suggested, watching Clarkson’s smile return to the deadpan expression he had come to know from his newest team member.

“Y/N, if you needed some stress relief, I would have happily obliged.” Derek looked over the divider, and Clarkson rolled her eyes in response.

“Firstly, I would suggest saving the flirting for Garcia. Secondly, I don’t understand why my good mood has to immediately be linked to my sex life. It's a highly inappropriate discussion for the workplace.” She scolded the pair, earning laughs from both of them. A cold glare shut Reid up immediately. “If you really must know, I upstaged someone.” She said, letting a small smirk settle on her lips. Derek pushed his chair out, quickly making his way into the walkway between her and Reid’s desks, the two men intrigued.

“See? Now we’re getting somewhere. Who was it?” Derek asked, and Clarkson tutted, standing up from her seat and picking up the last of the coffees, meant for the absent Prentiss and JJ. Hotch and Rossi were out of town, the team set to deal with paperwork for the next few days.

“It ruins all the fun if I tell you, Agent Morgan.” She pouted, feigning sympathy for the men. “Doctor Reid.” With that, heels thudded against the carpet below, Clarkson ascending onto the walkway and heading for JJ’s office, armed with coffees and a swing in her hips. A tap on the door later, Clarkson was handing over coffees to JJ and Prentiss as the latter paced the room, reading through a letter of some sort.

“You done?” JJ asked, taking the decaf coffee from Clarkson with a smile.

“Almost…” Prentiss muttered, finishing the last few sentences before exchanging the letter for her coffee with Clarkson, who began to read. “Whoo. I can see why you’d meet her.”

“It’s powerful, right?” JJ said with a sigh, sat behind her desk, watching the two colleagues process the letter, Clarkson chewing on her lip as she read. Another tap on the door, causing all three women to look up.

“Agent Jareau, you’re 10.30 is here.” Grant, JJ’s assistant, informed the trio, and JJ nodded.

“Just a minute-” Before JJ could finish, a red-headed woman walked into the office, stopping and standing her ground, pleasantly surprised to see three female agents in a room together, all surrounded by a feeling of distinction. It wasn’t often one would find more than two successful women in a room at any one time. The redhead held out a hand to JJ, who stood up to shake in greeting.

“Hi, I’m Keri Durzmond.”

“Hi, Agent Jareau…” JJ nodded, her eyes glancing over to Clarkson and Prentiss, none of them quite sure what to think of the woman before them.

“Emily Prentiss.” Prentiss introduced herself, a firm shake shared between Durzmond and the brunette, and Clarkson nodded for the room’s far wall.

“Agent Clarkson.” Her eyes scanned over the flustered woman while her hands folded the letter and set it down on the cabinet beside her.

“I’m sorry to rush in, but when I got the message you’d see me this morning, I could barely sleep last night. But, that’s nothing new, I haven’t been able to sleep for about two years.” Durzmond set her bag on the seat opposing JJ’s desk, her hand brushing down her blazer front, smoothing away any wrinkles.

“We read the letter you wrote to the Silver Spring Police.” JJ nodded, tension in the room still high. There was a mutual agreement that came with the information that letter held: all of them were privy to a terror, all of them women of the same age range. It is always harder to distance oneself from a case when the victim could just as easily have been you.

“Begging and pleading wasn’t getting their attention. They needed to know I wasn’t going away.” Durzmond was stubborn, and clearly tired of her situation.

“So, you’ve been getting these notes for the past two years?” JJ confirmed, gesturing for Clarkson to hand her the letter over, the younger agent doing so quickly, still seemingly caught in her own thoughts.

“I used to be in Atlanta, I moved here six months ago, and then out of nowhere another note. I can’t live like this anymore. I want my life back.” Keri demanded it.

“What did the police tell you?” Prentiss asked, her tone softer than usual.

“The detective I met with was,” she paused, “Very sympathetic, but his hands are tied unless something happens to me. Then it will be too late.” Another glance around the room, Durzmond’s eyes locked with Prentiss and Clarkson before finally landing on JJ. “Will you help me?” Clarkson took it as a queue to leave, pushing herself off the wall and moving behind Prentiss and Durzmond towards the door, all while her fellow agents shared a look.

“I’m presenting the case to our team this morning, I’ll let you know what we decide.” JJ said, keeping the confidence in her voice. Keri’s hope turned to a frown, picking up a notepad and pen from JJ’s desk, beginning to quickly jot something down.

“Lou Evans, Ed Durzmond, and Ryan Scott.” Keri said aloud as she wrote, and Prentiss raised an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” Prentiss asked, Keri handing the note over to JJ.

“Those are the people you’ll be calling when you find me dead.” Keri announced, the two agents left in the room seeming to give in to her request for assistance right then and there. It took no more than ten minutes for Keri to leave the BAU offices and for JJ to collect the files to brief the rest of the team, but within that time Clarkson received a call from Hotch.

Her phone began to ring while she was sat at her desk, tuning in and out of Reid’s ramblings on the formation of bacterial meningitis: the scholar was rereading the medical texts in the FBI library. She glanced at her phone, picking up the call immediately.

“Sir, how is the seminar going?” She asked, hearing a heavy sigh on the other end of the line.

“Rossi and I have been asked to assist on a case here, I would like you to fly up and join us. I don’t believe you’ve seen a case like this before, I want you to understand how to handle it.” Hotch explained, and Clarkson lifted her go-bag onto her desk, Morgan raising an eyebrow at the action. Before she could explain, JJ waved the three of them to the conference room, her male counterparts making their way over instantly.

“I can be with you in two hours, maybe less.” Clarkson assured Hotch. While her work with the team so far had been admirable, Clarkson was still very much trying to prove herself to the other members of the team. A final gulp of tea and a check of her bag later, Clarkson walked over to the conference room door, tapping slightly to alert the attention of her teammates.

“Y/N? What’s up?” Prentiss asked, the room taking their attention away from the screen displaying photographs of a partially nude man.

“Hotch and Rossi want me in Boston for a case… Could you keep me updated on Keri?” It was possibly the first time Clarkson had asked a favour of any of her teammates, and she noticed Reid pull out a notebook not unlike her own and jot down something.

“Of course. We’ll keep you in the loop. Go.” JJ assured her, Clarkson nodding before quickly striding out of the office, leaving the rest of her teammates to share a look.

“Hotch still doesn’t trust her.” Morgan said quietly, shaking his head. “He recruited her, and he’s still taking her on ‘research’ missions.”

“He did the same thing with all of us.” JJ tried to argue, but she knew that it just wasn’t true. After two months on the job, and with Hotch still seeming to hold their new recruit back, how could anyone of them trust Clarkson? Paired with Hotch’s refusal to have her at arrest sites, it left the team wondering what sort of loose cannon their restrained and reserved colleague might actually be.

“Add it to her board.” Reid said with an awkward smile that quickly disappeared, the team packing up to move out into Maryland in 30. Meanwhile, Clarkson boarded a plane for Boston, looking through the case file Garcia had sent over to her laptop, almost unhappy that she was being called away from a stalker case. Clarkson knew that Hotch was looking out for her, of course she did, but some part of her wondered if her entire FBI career would involve Hotch always stood in front of her.

Boston, Massachusetts.

Clarkson managed to arrive in Boston a little over 90 minutes later, armed with a go-bag and an overwhelming feeling she was missing out on a more interesting case. The drive to the police station was short, free of any major traffic, and an officer directed her directly to Eve Alexander, who stood talking with the lead detective on the case. A stunning woman, with the same air of authority that Clarkson held herself, the pair locked eyes and Alexander ended her conversation to focus on the arrival.

“Miss, can I help you?” She asked, examining the woman from the floor up. Black heels, the kind that cost more than Alexander’s monthly rent, matched the expensive pant suit and halter top combo the young woman sported, a string of pearls around her neck that looked older than she was by at least a generation. The cold eyes, the perfectly styled hair, the matching pearl earrings; Alexander was half convinced the woman was a young business bred socialite, perhaps coming to complain to whoever was in charge about her Porsche being towed.

“Miss Alexander, I presume? Special Agent Clarkson, Agent Hotchner is my supervisor, he asked me to assist on his interviews.” Clarkson offered a hand, which Alexander shook quickly, a smile forming on her face. She hadn’t expected a woman, but she didn’t mind it one bit.

“Pleasure to meet you. Hotchner and Rossi are currently with the children in the conference room, you can head in whenever you feel ready. I should warn you though,” Alexander stopped Clarkson as she began towards the aforementioned room, “This is an open and shut case. The woman killed her husband without a second thought.” It was clear where Alexander stood on the case, and Clarkson nodded in understanding. It was easier to be perceived as agreeing than to openly object, and with that Clarkson headed into the conference room, welcomed by the sound of a young woman raising her voice at her superiors.

“Is that what my mother said? That he hit her?” The young lady asked, her brother glancing up to watch the stranger walk into the room. Rossi nodded to Clarkson, quickly turning his attention back to the young adults before him as the young agent took a seat at the bottom of the table quietly. She was, after all, there to observe.

“We haven’t spoken to your mother yet, but we understand it’s being suggested by her attorney.” Rossi explained, the words setting the girl, who Clarkson recognised from the case file to be Sarah Henson, into a pace across the back of the room.

“Unbelievable…” Sarah’s brother, Nathan, muttered under his breath, the siblings sharing a look of complete disbelief, of anger.

“She’s actually blaming him?” Sarah spoke more to her brother than the agents present, arms folded over her navy blouse. Clarkson watched the room intently, catching the tightening clasp Hotch’s hands had on each other, the furrow of his brow.

“So you don’t believe she was abused?” Hotch clarified, trying to gauge more of a reaction from Nathan, who seemed to let his sister display the anger.

“If anyone was abused, it was my father; what he had to put up with being married to her.” Sarah stated as a matter of fact, causing Rossi to look over at Clarkson, the pair sharing a look. Why did these kids hate they mother so wholeheartedly?

“She was a lousy cook.” Nathan finally spoke up, catching all three agents’ attention. “She couldn’t do the laundry right. The house was always filthy. Hell, she couldn’t even grocery shop without some kind of supervision.” He spoke with hatred, his choice of words causing Hotch’s expression to change.

“Supervision?” He asked, and Nathan elaborated.

“She’d get all the wrong things. Wrong brands, too much or too little of something.”

“And my father was always patient with her.” Sarah added. “Always.”

“She’s just… She isn’t…” Nathan tried to figure out the right word to use, looking to his sister for aid.

“She’s not bright.”

“Are you saying your mother is mentally challenged?” Clarkson spoke up from the bottom of the room, Sarah’s eyes narrowing as they landed on her. Clarkson couldn’t tell what caused her to look at Hotch and Rossi differently, but she didn’t want to look into it.

“No, I mean she’s stupid.” Sarah huffed.

“This is your mother we’re talking about here.” Rossi interjected, his hands going into his pockets.

“No, we’re talking about a woman who killed the only real parent we’ve ever had.” Sarah corrected, her voice wavering. “Our father was kind and gentle and loving.”

“He always had time for us. Always. He was at every game, every school event, everything important.” Nathan reassured; his own arms now folded. Both were fiercely defensive of the man who raised them.

“And what about your mother?” Hotch asked, confused.

“She never went to anything. Not once in my whole life. I guess she just couldn’t be bothered.” Nathan exclaimed.

“So if your father didn’t abuse your mother, why did she kill him?” Hotch questioned, trying to understand the family dynamic. Something didn’t add up, none of the information connected yet. A woman shot her husband at point blank range while he slept and is now claiming battered woman syndrome for abuse that reportedly never happened.

“Probably just to take him away from us.” Nathan nodded through the words.

“She was jealous that he loved us more than her.” Sarah shrugged, and Clarkson looked between the two young people.

“Why would she think that?” Clarkson asked, and Nathan scoffed.

“Because he said so all the time.” The young man confirmed, leaving the agents in a state of bewilderment. Sarah and Nathan Henson were led out by Rossi, Clarkson letting out a bated breath once they had exited, pulling out her phone to see what updates JJ had sent forward on the Keri case.

“Do you see why I brought you here instead of leaving you with the team?” Hotch asked, drawing Clarkson’s attention away from her mobile device.

“It’s not every day you get a case of battered woman syndrome without any physical abuse. Those kids hold fast that their mother was an awful person.” Clarkson nodded, a small part of her glad that the case was interesting. It would take her mind off of the stalker in Maryland.

“And that their father was a saint.” Rossi spoke as he walked in, sitting down between Clarkson and Hotch. “So where do we go from here? The wife or the scene?”

“Rossi, you and I will head to the scene first thing tomorrow. Clarkson, I want you here preparing to talk to Mrs Henson. Rossi can look more into the father’s background; I need to check in with Morgan and the team.” Hotch instructed, and Clarkson did her best not to look too shocked.

“You want me interviewing a killer alone?” She had to be sure that Hotch wasn’t confused, and Rossi smirked.

“Come on, Y/N. It’s not like it’s your first time interviewing a bad guy alone.” Rossi commented, the younger agent frowning. Hotch had Rossi’s help selecting her for the team, Clarkson knew this, but his bringing up her former occupation sent shivers down her spine. She didn’t need to remember any of her early twenties any time soon.

“Rossi, we leave here 7 tomorrow. Clarkson, you head to see her at the earliest time possible. Build up trust, small talk. You know the drill.” Hotch stood up, straightening his suit jacket, Rossi and Clarkson following suit, the three leaving the conference room, separating to take on their separate tasks. Over the rest of the afternoon, Clarkson tried her hardest to battle the knots in her stomach, a mixture of anxiety for the following day’s interview and a lack of communication from the team in Maryland, and the woman who had spent two years running from an unknown man. Something didn’t sit right with Clarkson about the whole thing, it felt too familiar to her, too close to home. When Prentiss called as Clarkson reached her hotel room that night, explaining the dognapping, that little else had come from their searching, and that she would make sure someone kept her as updated as possible, Y/N fell into a turbulent sleep.

She had never been one to sleep well, it was true, but that night in particular was rougher than most. Her evening was spent tossing and turning, and by the time she got up around 5 the next morning, she had no more than 15 minutes of sleep. Her mind had been tumbling, spiralling through the endless uncertainties that plagued the new line of work she had joined, ranging from her teammates, to her superiors, to her place. She was a capable woman, able to hide the fear that had building up inside her that maybe she wasn’t ready for the work, maybe it was all too soon for her, maybe she had made a mistake. Her inability to share her past with the team had made her seem hostile, was it only a matter of time before she was asked to transfer? To leave?

As the young woman dressed that day, taking the time to utilise the room’s iron and de-wrinkle her clothes, she tried to smother her doubts with the facts of the case. She knew that Mrs Henson had killed her husband, that she was thought of as incapable by her children, knew that she was confessing to the murder and her lawyer was claiming a syndrome almost exclusively used for women who have been victims of abuse, which the children claim never happened. Clarkson applied a soft pink lipstick, even taking the time to pluck a few stray eyebrow hairs and ensure perfection looked back at her. She would have to empathise, understand the criminal, and do so all alone.

It wasn’t Clarkson’s first time interviewing someone, but it was certainly a drastically different situation: when her past occupation was more about information, this was about reason and people. Clarkson didn’t have to see interviewees as humans before, as cruel as it sounded. Instead, she thought of them as objects containing secrets, she just had to crack them.

She drove with Hotch and Rossi to the police station, the pair dropping her off as they headed out to the Henson family home, leaving Clarkson at the front door. It took a few breaths, a few moments to centre herself before she entered the building, opting to leave her holstered weapon with the officer working reception, flashing her credentials as she did so before asking to see Mrs Henson as soon as possible. Then, she was led to a private room, equipped with a table and two chairs, and a bar to attach a prisoner’s cuffs to.

It didn’t take long for Mrs Henson to be brought to the room, accompanied by two burly guards. Normally, Clarkson would have found the cuffs and chains comforting, but on such a small and thin woman it just looked wrong.

“You can take off the restraints gentlemen, I think Mrs Henson and I are capable of conversation without them.” Clarkson said with a nod to the prisoner, the guards sharing a look before complying. Clarkson was slightly taller than the woman, more because of her heels than anything else, but she had muscle under the suit she wore. She was probably capable of taking on both the men with ease; Mrs Henson didn’t stand a chance if she attacked. “And you can stay outside. I think that would make Mrs Henson more comfortable?” The question was directed to the prisoner, who just looked dazed, and smiled weakly to the agent.

“We’ll be right outside, call us if you need anything, Agent Clarkson.” The first of the guards said, leading the pair out the door, leaving the women in silence.

“Mrs Henson, my name is Agent Y/N Clarkson. Are you aware you do not have to be here talking to me? That you and your lawyer opted for FBI involvement?” Clarkson asked, breaking the quiet with a soft voice, and a small smile.

“I know that, yes.” Henson nodded.

“And you know why you are here?” Clarkson made sure, and Henson finally met her eye.

“I shot my husband. I killed him.” It caused Clarkson’s brow to crease, the certainty of the woman’s words throwing her off guard for a moment.

“Why did you kill him, Mrs Henson?” The question was simply, and Henson thought for a moment beginning to nod.

“It’s what I had to do… It sounds terrible, but yes.” Henson responded, running her fingers over her wrists, tinged red from the handcuffs. “How old are you, Agent?” She asked, looking up.

“I’m 26.” Clarkson responded, quickly pulling the conversation back to the primary topic. “Mrs Henson, did your husband Phillip ever hit you?”

“Hit me? No, never… You know, I had married by your age…” She smiled a little at the thought, like her time with her husband, at least at the beginning, had been enjoyable.

“So, he was never abusive?” Clarkson clarified, and Mrs Henson shook her head.

“Not even when I probably deserved…” Henson trailed off, and Clarkson sat back in her chair, examining the woman before her.

“Mrs Henson, you don’t have to say anything to me, but I want to help you. I can only help you if you answer honestly, ok?” Clarkson clarified. “And if you want to, we can make this less stressful? Do you want me to call you Audrey? You can call my Y/N, we can make this a conversation amongst friends.” She tried to reassure, but Mrs Henson shook her head.

“That’s very kind of you Agent, but you wouldn’t want to be my friend.” She quickly looked up and the back down, beginning to pick at her fingernails.

“Why is that?”

“Are you kidding? Look at me.” Clarkson sat up at this point, leaning into the table, into Henson’s words. “You know, my husband was always patient with me, but when Nathan was born, I just let myself go.” A tear rolled down Henson’s cheek as her voice raised. “I’m fat, I’m a terrible housekeeper, I’m a terrible cook!” She took a slow breath, looking up at Clarkson. “Believe me, I needed a husband with a lot of patience, and a woman like you wouldn’t want to be friends with a mess like me.” Clarkson had to take a second to process the words that left her counterpart’s mouth, clearing her throat and sitting up straight again.

“Audrey, can I ask about your son Nathan?” With a nod from Mrs Henson, Clarkson continued. “He talked to me and my team yesterday, said that you never attended any of his school events. No sports games, no award ceremonies.”

“He’s probably right.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“Well, I was doing such a terrible job at home, I didn’t… I didn’t want to embarrass my family in public, too.” Henson sighed, and just at that moment Clarkson’s phone began to ring.

“I’m very sorry Audrey, it’s my team…” Clarkson stood from the table, knocking on the door and exiting as she answered the phone. “Hotch?” She glanced at one of the guards. “Could you get some water in there? I’ll be a moment.” Clarkson asked, and the guard nodded, heading off to fetch some refreshments.

“Clarkson, it’s Rossi.” Rossi clarified, no doubt he left his own mobile in the car. “We’re at the crime scene now, but the place… It’s nearly immaculate. Someone took the time to clean up excess blood.” Rossi informed her, and Clarkson looked back at the door she had just exited. “How is it going with Audrey?”

“Might be better for you to get back here and see for yourself.” Clarkson said with a sigh, a rustling through the phone led to Hotch coming on the line.

“Y/N, do you think Audrey Henson was abused?” Hotch asked Clarkson. “Because, if you do, I want you to inform Ms Alexander. Rossi and I will be back at the station as soon as we can.” Hotch informed, ending the call. Clarkson took a moment, twirling the phone in her hands before walking out to the bullpen, where Alexander stood, going through paperwork.

“Ah, Agent Clarkson… What do you think then? Have Hotch and Rossi come to a conclusion?” Alexander asked, and Clarkson gave her a tight-lipped smile.

“No, I have.” Clarkson corrected. “Mrs Henson was never physically abused, but from speaking with her and hearing about the state of her home, I can say with no doubt she experienced psychological abuse from her entire family.” Clarkson informed Alexander, who frowned at the younger woman.

“And your superiors agree with you? This woman shot her husband, or did you forget that?” Alexander went quickly on the accusative, and Clarkson took a step forward.

“Miss Alexander, I realise you called in more seasoned agents for this case, but when I give you an answer on behalf of the BAU, it doesn’t need to be double checked.” Clarkson said, challenging the older woman. “Agent Hotchner and Rossi will be here in ten minutes. I invite you to come into the room with us as I finish the interview. I think it could shed some light on my decision for you.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order, and the older woman took a few seconds to think of her response. Clarkson’s phone rang again before Alexander had a chance to answer, this time from Emily. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

“How is it going up in Boston?” Emily’s voice greeted Clarkson as she answered the phone.

“Nothing I can’t handle. Any new updates?” Clarkson responded, hearing Prentiss sigh on the other end.

“JJ is freaked out, really not enjoying how much we’ve been looking in Keri’s life. Garcia has more information on Keri than we have on the unsub in any way shape or form.” Prentiss explained, stopping for a moment. “I actually called to see if Hotch was with you, he isn’t picking up his cell.”

“They’re driving at the moment, we’re about to go into a final interview.” Clarkson said with a glance to the door, Hotch and Rossi walking through and meeting with Alexander. “Keep me posted, Prentiss.”

“Promise.” She responded, Clarkson flipping her phone shut and walking over to her superiors.

“Are we all ready?” She asked, and with a stern nod from Hotch, the three followed Clarkson to the interview room, the guard opening the door to reveal Mrs Henson sat quietly, sipping on her glass of water, the other guard stationed inside.

“Thank you.” She said, dismissing the guard, taking her seat once more. “Sorry about that, Audrey. This is Agent Hotchner and Agent Rossi, and you know Miss Alexander. Do you mind if they stand in for our last few questions?”

“Not at all Agent, a busy woman like you shouldn’t have to apologise. Of course your team can stay.” Mrs Henson said with a smile, and Clarkson glanced down at her phone. Rossi had sent through pictures of the home earlier, a complete contrast to how Audrey had described it. What Clarkson would have initially assumed to be a hoarder’s paradise looked like something out of a catalogue, perfect down to the spacing of the clothes hangers and shoes. Not unlike how Y/N kept her own home.

“Why isn’t she cuffed?” Alexander whispered to Hotch, but Clarkson pretended not to hear, and Hotch shook his head, stopping Alexander from asking more.

“Mrs Henson, I need to ask about what happened after you shot Phillip.” Clarkson said softly, Mrs Henson setting down her cup on the table slowly, taking a gulp before looking up. “Could you take us through what you did?”

“Well, um…” Henson stopped for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “I had just finished the laundry, and I was, I was hanging up the last of my husband’s shirts in the closet. I looked over and I saw him on the bed, and I knew. I knew it had to be then, that it was my only chance. And so, I decided I had to kill him.” She wiped a tear from her eye, and took a deep breath, her eyes focused on the table between her and Clarkson. “I picked up the gun, and I shot him. Her eyes looked up at Clarkson. “I shot my husband.”

“That was the murder, Audrey… What did you do after it?” Clarkson pressed. “Did you sit and wait for someone to come home?” She asked, and Henson quickly shook her head.

“Oh, no, no, no. I had to clean up.” Henson said quickly, Clarkson’s eyes glancing to Hotch, who nodded.

“Why did you have to clean up, Audrey?” Clarkson asked.

“Well, there was blood everywhere.”

“And did you clean up because you wanted to keep what you had done a secret?”

“Oh no. I was going to tell Sarah what I had done the second she got home. I wasn’t hiding anything.” Henson insisted, and Alexander finally spoke up, confused.

“Then why did you clean up the blood?” Alexander asked, and Henson’s attention focused on her.

“Because the police would have been coming. And Phillip would have been so furious if I had allowed all those strangers in the house with a mess like that.” Audrey explained, a tear staining her cheek, leaving Alexander speechless. Clarkson stood up from the table, walking over and taking Audrey’s hand in hers.

“Audrey, thank you so much for talking with us. My team are going to be heading away now, but what you’ve told us is very helpful. Miss Alexander and your lawyer will be working with you from here on.” Clarkson explained, and Audrey smiled a little.

“Could I have the other glass of water?” Audrey asked, and Clarkson nodded, Hotch leading the rest of them out of the room, the guards heading back inside. Once the door had closed, Clarkson took a deep breath, Rossi patting her shoulder in comfort.

“Her life’s been punishment enough.” Hotch said to Alexander, Rossi leading Clarkson back into the bull pen to collect their things.

“I’m going to have to drag her through a trial.” Alexander sighed, leaning against the wall for a moment. “I’ll recommend she’s charged with criminally negligent homicide. By the time it’s over, she’ll probably get off with probation and time served.” She stated, running a hand over her head, taking a second to think before walking back out into the main building with Hotch, heading out the door into the street to think.

“You did a good job.” Hotch said as he returned to Rossi and Clarkson, the latter fastening her gun back onto herself. Helping find the truth felt good, and Clarkson responded with a small smile. “We’ll fly back tonight, take the day to pack. Clarkson, can you write up the report on this one?”

“Of course sir, anything you need.” Clarkson agreed.

The three stayed nearby, and as afternoon turned into evening, and Rossi surprised both Hotch and Clarkson at the station with Chinese takeout, their flight scheduled to leave late that night, it felt like a cooldown. Even though the case Morgan, Reid, Prentiss and JJ were on in Maryland was slowly but surely escalating, the victim’s boyfriend finding his windows smashed only a few hours before, Hotch knew whatever was happening could be handled by the rest of his team for the night, Rossi, Clarkson and himself planning to drive out the next morning to assist. And so, Y/N sat with her bosses in a police station hundreds of miles from her home, eating chicken chow mein and finishing up her report of the case. After the final line was written, she handed the file over to Hotch to proof-read, though he was distracted by his phone call with JJ. Rossi, to Clarkson’s right, was examining a photo of the Henson’s with interest, scopping rice into his mouth as he did.

“And there’s nothing else pending? No, it’s alright… We’ll meet you tomorrow, if nothing more happens, I’ll need us all back to normal… Ok, thanks JJ.” Hotch ended his call, sighing and finally glancing down at Clarkson’s finished report.

“Still working on the single stalker case?” Rossi asked, not looking up from his food and the photo.

“Mmhmm…”

“All of them?”

“JJ seems pretty passionate about it.” Hotch smiled a little, beginning to flick through Clarkson’s report. His eyes lingered on a photo of the family in the file, a frown forming on his lips. “You know, sometimes you can see it, but, uh… They all look pretty happy.” He remarked, causing Clarkson and Rossi to share a glance.

“Happiness is easy to fake when you only have half a second.” Rossi responded, and Clarkson smirked, taking a sip of her water. “You should see how many happy-looking photos I have with my exes.”

“Were you ever happy in any of your marriages?” Hotch asked, setting the file down on the table, giving more attention to the conversation.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.” Rossi was honest, looking from the photo to Hotch. “If I was, I can’t remember… I’m not sure if me and the idea of being married are a good mix.” The comment made both Hotch and Clarkson laugh a little.

“You kept trying…” It was more a question from Hotch.

“I didn’t have any kids.” Rossi responded off the cuff, causing Hotch to look back up.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I might have tried harder if there were children involved.” Rossi shrugged, not realising he had said the wrong thing. Clarkson picked up on it though.

“I tried…” Hotch said softly, shaking his head a little. “I gave absolutely everything to Haley and Jack, and to my job.”

“So, something had to give.” Rossi said with sympathy, and Clarkson nodded.

“Something always gives, Hotch.” She confirmed, the two men looking over at her. “The same thing happened with Charlie. There’s a point people reach where they can’t go any further, and Haley reached that point.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m any less committed as a father or love my son any less.” Hotch said, his words sure and defensive, more directed to Rossi’s earlier comment.

“Of course not.” Clarkson smiled, making Hotch smile slightly too.

“Hey, Hotch, what to I know? The only people I’ve made happy are divorce lawyers.” Rossi added.

“Well, we’ve got five failed marriages between the three of us, we have to be experts at something.” Hotch sighed, and Clarkson looked up.

“We’re experts at our job, Hotch. And it’s not fair, but we lost love because of it.” Clarkson said thoughtfully, taking a bite of chicken.

“You’re too young to be wistful, Clarkson.” Rossi chuckled, the young woman rolling her eyes. The three fell into a pensive silence, continuing their meals, all wondering exactly where their marriages went wrong.

Silver Spring, Maryland.

The past few days in Marlyand. for Prentiss, JJ, Morgan and Reid had been stressful to say the very least. First Keri’s dog was taken, then Ryan’s car trashed, sensitive information about Keri terminating a pregnancy had sent the couple into a spiral, and as of twenty minutes before, Keri had gone missing, abducted from her home. She had come in earlier that morning to the station after seeing her stalker, and sat down with a sketch artist and the team, and now that they had an image and, thanks to a bystander, the make and colour of van the unsub was driving, the team had managed to figure out who took Keri: a man named Mike Hicks.

The team were at Ryan and Keri’s home, Reid and Garcia communicating data through Ryan’s home computer, running through any other data that could be useful on Mike Hicks when another black SUV pulled up outside the address.

“Come on Garcia, do we have an address?” Morgan asked into the phone, which had been put on speaker for the room to hear, Rossi walking into the room as Morgan spoke, followed by Hotch and Clarkson. JJ was pacing behind the couch, and while the rest of the team greeted the newcomers, she didn’t look up.

“His social’s listed at a bank and the account lists… Mike Hicks, 404 Lark Lane, Silver Spring.” Garcia announced, Morgan looking up at Hotch and Rossi.

“We’ll head out with the police to his address.” Hotch offered. It was unlikely he would be there, they all knew it, but better to be safe than sorry.

“Thanks baby girl.” Morgan said down the phone, flipping it closed. “Looks like you arrived right on time.” Morgan commented at Clarkson, who hadn’t followed Hotch and Rossi outside, instead taking in the information on the computer over Reid’s shoulder.

“Like I would leave you to have all the fun.” Clarkson said softly to Morgan, in a much better mood than any of the team had seen her in, ever. The Boston case must have gone well.

“Every second we’re here, she’s alone with him.” Ryan said quietly, looking up to Prentiss who stood at his right side. He looked broken, helpless, it made sense. His fiancé had disappeared, taken by an obsessive stalker. The cogs began to turn in Prentiss’ head at the comment.

“His obsession defines him.” She thought aloud, the team looking up at her. It even stopped JJ’s pacing. “He wants to make her happy. He wouldn’t take her where he wants to go but where she wants to go.”

“Maybe someplace that means something to the both of you?” JJ suggested, looking up at Ryan. The man’s face paled, almost sinking as he thought about it.

“I proposed to her on Chesapeake beach…” Ryan said weakly, and the team shared a few glances. It had to be it. Within seconds, the team had silently agreed, and Morgan took charge.

“Ryan, you’ll ride with Prentiss, Reid and I. JJ, I want you in a car behind… Take Clarkson too. Detective, we need a police barrier as soon as possible, this guy can’t get away. Hopefully, Keri is smart enough to get herself somewhere in public.” Morgan instructed, and Clarkson raised an eyebrow. As the team headed out to the cars, Morgan walked beside her. “Whatever you did in Boston, it proved that Hotch trusts you. By consequence, I trust you. No more desk work, rookie.” Morgan said quietly, the pair breaking off for different cars. JJ took the driver’s seat, Clarkson jumping in beside her, the pair following the rest of the team in the car ahead. In the centre console, a can of soda was nestled into a cup holder, JJ sipping it periodically.

“When did you start drinking diet soda instead of coffee?” Clarkson asked, keeping her eyes ahead.

“What do you mean?” JJ seemed confused, setting the soda away.

“I’ve known you for two months, I have never seen you pick up a soda before. I mean, I hadn’t seen you drink decaf until last week.” Clarkson added, JJ making a sharp turn to follow Morgan.

“What are you getting at Clarkson?” JJ asked, finally looking at her co-worker.

“Agitated, lack of caffeine, taste changes…” Clarkson stopped for a second, weighing her options. “How long have you known you were pregnant?” Clarkson asked the question, and JJ almost stopped the car. Before she could ask, Clarkson continued. “The rest of the team don’t notice because they know you too well. I have a feeling Reid asked at some point, right? Just trusted you when you claimed to be doing a caffeine detox?”

“Will doesn’t know yet. No-one knows yet.” JJ said quietly, and Clarkson placed a hand on hers.

“They won’t hear it from me… Congratulations.” The car came to a stop at the promenade of Chesapeake beach, both women jumping out of the car with guns at the ready, following Prentiss as Morgan went round the side of a building, Reid staying with Ryan in the car. The brunette beckoned the two agents towards her, the three concealing themselves behind a corner as a message came through on the radio from Reid: “Unsub is armed and with Keri. Headed your way.” Prentiss looked back at JJ and Clarkson, who both nodded in understanding.

As Mr Hicks rounded the corner with Keri, all three spread out to block the exits, the local police falling in behind him, everyone with guns raised. In response, Hicks held the gun to Keri’s head, causing Prentiss to move her hand from her trigger.

“Ok, ok. Let’s all put these away. I just want to talk to you.” Prentiss said, holstering her gun.

“Don’t make me hurt her.” Mike’s voice wavered, his hands shook, and his grip on Keri’s arm was vice like. But Prentiss took lead, gesturing for officers and agents alike to lower their guns.

“You don’t have to do that. Michael, we don’t want to take her away from you. Keri told me she wants to be with you.” Prentiss explained slowly, looking to Keri. It was their victim’s time to shine, to play into the fantasy.

“It’s true.” Keri said through her hyperventilation. “I’m so happy now… They think you’re gonna hurt me. Put it down so we can be together.” Keri urged Mike, who kept the gun trained on her. “Where do you wanna go first? We could, uh, we could go back to Atlanta?” Keri suggested, her hand reaching to touch Mike’s, his gun lowering in tandem. “We could find a little house.”

The moment Hicks had lowered his gun, Keri wrenched herself from his grasp, running towards the local sheriff, and Morgan jumped out from behind a neighbouring building, tackling Hicks to the ground, disarming the threat and handing the gun over to Clarkson as he handcuffed the stalker. Prentiss and JJ moved towards Keri as Ryan rounded the corner with Reid, reuniting the couple, and Clarkson helped Morgan lift the unsub to his feet.

“Nicely done, Morgan.” Clarkson complimented, walking with her colleague and the detective to the awaiting police car.

“So, will you tell me why you were in such a good mood the other day?” Morgan asked as he shoved the convict into the back seat. Slamming the door and sending the car on its way with two hits to the roof.

“Some asshole named Fred has been really, really annoying me since I got to the BAU. When I came in with coffee and donuts, it was because I had walked into his department to file a report, the case from last week with counterterrorism, and I got the chance to make him fetch me coffee.” Clarkson explained, walking back to the car with Morgan, a smile on her face. A genuine one, sweet and a little prideful, but it made Morgan shake his head and chuckle.

“Same guy went after Prentiss and JJ until he found out what they do.” Morgan said, jumping into the car, Reid catching up to ride with them, on the phone with Rossi.

“We’ll meet you back at Quantico then.” Reid finished the call, looking at his fellow agents, eyes landing on Clarkson. “How many times have you smiled?” He asked, pulling out the notebook.

“Wait… Is that what the notebook is for? Tracking my facial expressions?” Clarkson asked, an eyebrow raised. Reid quickly tucked the book away, choosing to change the subject.

“How was Boston?” he asked, Morgan starting the drive back to Quantico.

“We all got the right ending this weekend.” Clarkson said, turning on the radio and relaxing into her seat. It was enough to silence the conversation, the drive back to the BAU quiet and without tension. It was comforting, knowing that it was the first time in her BAU career that she was truly a part of the team.

Tags: @ssour-patch-kid @dxbriksx @asapkyndall @sungieeeeeee @afuckingshituniverse @hommoturttle @viarogers

#criminal minds #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #cm #cm fic #fanfiction #fanfic #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotch #derek morgan #jj #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #david rossi #bau #bau x reader

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exedworld · 3 years

Text

EXED WORLD ALMANAC

11th ANNUAL RECAP ISSUE MAXIMUM DELUXITY EDITION!

JUNE - ISH 20 YRS FROM BABL

NOTE: it is highly recommended that while reading through this you scroll along with the original material (x) because things like tomsen’s illustrations and the actual Energy of her writing is lost in this simpler format.

Once again once again, another year of rushing through the asphalt veins of this great nation, little blood clots waiting to get stuck, but hold the embolism, don’t break out flow, we’re not braindead yet.

A strange year in a strange century of strange years. What’s going on in you, exed world? Do you feel ok? Do you feel something building? Is it cry or laugh? Vomit or orgasm? Can we help you get it out?

Barbara’s getting tired. She complains louder every mile/day but hard to blame her. This year we completed 1 full perambulation of the Benighted States of America. Several zigzags through the interior but we never find much in that heart of darkness. America is scooped out hollow and nightmares Lurk in the VOID: You know about it don’t you? If you ever leave your circle of firelight you know about it. Reality’s only as hard as we make it and we’ve made it melty sherbet. We learned that when DAWN OF THE DEAD crawled out of our screens and heads.

But we’re not here to recap The Suggestible Universe. You all know the new rules. We’ll just say this to you fantastic voyagers who dare to tread the Midwaste.

DO NOT TREAD LIGHTLY. Stomp and kick and shout. Make every step hit hard, make every breath a declaration that you’re here, that you’re real.

Stay close to your friends if you have them. Find a mind to confirm that you’re standing on the earth, or you might just fall through it.

Learn from our mistakes. You don’t wanna see the things so soon.

BUT HERE WE ARE. FILLED TO THE BURSTING WITH ANOTHER YEAR THE HOURS SPRAYING OUT OF US THROUGH THE HOLES IN OUR SOULS.

Where to begin? Where did we begin?

It’s all starting to look the same. Forests eat cities. Deserts eat forests. Detroit is sinking, almost gone, just a few decades to become ancient beyond ancient. What was ancient to the pharaohs? What great deeds were done in history’s history?

What primeval heroes did Gilgamesh admire? Did he remember his cave crawling ancestors? Did they remember the trees? The muh? the sea?

WE ARE THE NEWEST THINGS ON EARTH. WE ARE THE BLEEDING EDGE. WHAT A PRIVILEGE AND A DUTY! AND ALL OF THEM WATCHING US. LET’S NOT DISAPPOINT OUR PARENTS.

So! You know the state of the union. If you’ve been paying attention, if you haven’t skipped any issues, you know what’s going on. We told you what we found in the cities: X after X after X after X after X xxxxxx

No time for lists of nothing in the annual recap. What GOOD have we gathered in all these miles? What have we found besides DUST and DEATH?

Whispers...

Rumors...

More and more every day. Since we left the west coast.

Something HAPPENED. Something’s HAPPENING. Something’s GOING TO HAPPEN

BUT WHAT????????????

WHY???

Wild reports of recoveries. Rememberings. THEY LIVE. Can it be TRUE? It’s can’t! Can it? HOW??

Consider the data: Hive dissipations. Wandering Dead. Irregular behaviors: reduced aggression increased confusion, mass migrations to parts unknown.

We are dubious.

Rumors say it spread from Cascadia but it was status quo when we left the coast early summer. How much can change in two months?

AND YET: OTHER ODDITIES OF NOTE: Ossie swarms gathering in the Midwaste.

We saw them by the thousands, like squirming nest of ants. PUREST HORROR.

BUT WHY? No Living prey. Dying in the desert. Why? Are they broken? Who broke them? Or did we imagine the whole thing?

IT WAS ALL A DREAM

Vacillations increasing in quantity and intensity, while cities blinking ON and OFF. All fine and good, we welcome the flux — but we question the synchronicity because flux is EVERYWHERE. RUMBLES AND GRUMBLES FROM ALL DIRECTIONS.

DID YOU KNOW? Axiom is stirring.

Oh yes Cascadians very sorry but the Axiom Group is alive and well despite the precious dreams of your shadowed corner of the world. We didn’t have the heart to tell you while we were visiting but now that we’re far away and you can’t at us... WAKE UP! They’re back.

Did you really think they left? Remission is not cure. Guessing you’ll learn soon enough Cascadia. Rumors of westward expansion. Dusty offices reopening. Ribbon cuttings. Fundraiser galas. Decapitations. We saw it ourselves, Exed World! Convoys en route.

WISH WE COULD RADION A WARNING but you know how that is. We’re working on it. BUT FOR NOW... TOO LATE. Cascadia (if it ever does, if any one’s even reading these) whatever’s going to happen WILL HAVE HAPPENED X X X

So sorry, Cascadia. Hope it worked out.

But for the rest of the “world”, TAKE NOTE. Nature hates a vacuum, Power Vacuum most of all. Only a matter of before something fills it so the question is WHAT? Watch the madness on your screens. Chew the Lotus. There’s your old world. Your good old days.

Is that the filling we want in our donut? IT’S STALE. It’s SOUR. It’s FULL OF WORMS. DON’T LET US REGRESS TO THE MEAN. DON’T LET US REGRESS TO THE CRUEL.

FORESTS EAT CITIES. DESERTS EAT FORESTS. THE MOUTH BEHIND EVERYTHING EATS THE EARTH. THE UNIVERSE. ALL OUR FEARS AND DREAMS... Sorry. sorry. Getting negative again.

The bright side. The bright side. Must remember there is one.

Because LOOK: Axiom is closest living link to Old Gov. It’s the chicken to Old Gov’s dinosaur and with a little digging, a little bribing, a little marijuana and alcohol, one can REVERSE ENGINEER THEIR DNA AND SNIFF THE DINO’S BREATH.

No, we haven’t found the tower. No big teary confessions in our interviews. But clues emerge. Bread crumbs drop. For the first time in forever, we have a trail to follow.

So we keep heading east. The bomb is ready. All we need is a place to drop it. Perhaps New York? Back into Axiom’s loveless embrace? Wherever the trail l e a d s . . .

Maybe this will be the last issue! A good one to go out on. LOOK HOW PRETTY 😍 Maybe we’ll topple the tower and open the airwaves and put ourselves out of a job. WE CAN DREAM. And if it happens you’ll know it. You’ll feel it. And if you don’t feel it you’ll HEAR it when the static stops and we scream into your radios.

“HI!” we’ll scream. “HELLO EXED WORLD! LET’S BE FRIENDS.”

So I say this very very literally: STAY TUNED. Keep your eyes and ears on those rivers of madness for as long as you can stand it because REAL NEWS is about to break. We feel it. The ground is hot under our feet. The rain feels like tears, the sun feels like love, the air hums like harp strings.

THIS IS HOW IT FEELS WHEN SOMETHING BIG IS COMING.

THE GRAVITY WELL OF IMPORTANCE. THE ATOMIC MASS OF MEANING. BIG CHANGE DISTORTS TIME AND WE REMEMBER BEFORE IT HAPPENS.

So hold on a little longer. Stay alive and keep living. EAT A RIPE PEAR. PET A CUTE CAT. MAKE LOVE TO A BEAUTIFUL HUMAN. We want so badly to sleep forever, to drown in our tears and sink to the bottom but NO. NO!!

We’re holding in our spilling guts and lapping up our bleeding blood and squeezing the mess of use together because WE WANT TO STAY. WE WANT TO BE HERE WHEN IT HAPPENS. WE WANT TO SEE WHAT’S NEXT.

WE LOVE YOU EXED WORLD!!!!! — DBC

#idk how to tag this just yet but Here You Go!!

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inventors-fair · 4 years

Text

Let’s Talk Flavor: Commentary

I would say overall that most of these cards were fantastic and a great number of the story ideas were good. There will be parts where I suggest edits, and the thing about story edits is, well, it doesn’t impact game design. That’s the thing about the Fair and the thing about Magic in general: the whole thing could be replicated with number systems and program lines and it would be the exact same. It’s the fact that a creature has Flying, or that a spell is made of Lightning that makes the game exciting. This was an interesting experiment.

Let’s talk about cards!

@ace-hobo — Captain’s Wrench

This is a perfectly fine card. I like the “fixed” Voltaic Key style, the moderate power level. It’s a card that someone would probably be middling in artifact decks but fine in budget builds. I’m sort of feeling an Ixalan vibe, maybe with a little steampunkishness. I get that the wrench belongs to De, but it’s a little confusing regarding why they have the wrench. If they’re the captain and they’re not in the engine room, why is the card depicting a tool that would suit them better if they never left the engine room? Maybe the story should be about how DESPITE their captain status, they spend time in the engine room. It’s an easy enough tweak.

@cas-420 — Boiling Blood

The card is pretty good. It’s very aggressive and has synergistic potential. I really don’t see where the flavor is tying into it. I am favorably inclined towards your text, in concept. I can see where you were making the pun on “execution.” The wording is clunky with the repeated syntax, and could have just used the execution line. But what does that have to do with the card? The flavor evokes dissent, protest, retaliation. The flavor of the card evokes speed, purpose, initiative. It’s not a perfect tonal match. I would save the text for a different card with a clearer purpose

@dabudder — Wisdom of the Tides

In terms of card wording, I believe you’d be looking for something like Mysteries of the Deep, where you have an “instead” wording — unless you’re supposed to draw an additional card after? It’s a little confusing how you have it now. Still, Flourish is a fine mechanic, executed well. This was pretty close to being a runner-up. I like the nod towards crabs. We’ve been having a crab mood lately. Overall, not bad. Might need to be four mana, but that’s me being cautious.

@deafeningsandwichpeach — Jyska, Artificer Overlord

The name is probably the best thing about this card, and it’s fair enough for a legendary creature. Considering that this is essentially the Nim ability from original Mirrodin and that it’s a vanilla creature otherwise, I would contest that you’re severely overestimating the power level of this card. It’s not as strong as it seems. In terms of flavor text, this is basically exposition. I won’t dissuade you from story-rich cards, but there’s too much information presented in a manner that overloads the reader. Simplify, punch, beat, punctuate. In terms of presentation, the whole block should be in quotes, and you don’t need to attribute the quote if the character’s on the card itself.

@demimonde-semigoddess — Thaw

Great name, great snow flavor. I can see this in the tundra wastes, something emerging from the snow, bursting out. I had to do some digging. As it turns out, “gelid” is a real English word I had no idea about! I thought from the shackles and your flavor text that it was some Coldsnap lore. In terms of the text itself, it’s not bad. It’s just that the two statements are somewhat disconnected. They work both on their own, but together, they don’t gel well. Still, bonus points to mechanical flavor for an anti-ice feel.

@dimestoretajic — Phytotemple

The card is pretty funky for an uncommon, pushed but not busted. I’d call it a pain in the butt but no more than Wayfaring Temple. Ah, I see, the wayfarers, an homage. But there’s a lot I don’t understand. Who lost the wayfarers? Who’s saying this quote? Why did the phytotemples start appearing in general? Did the original wayfaring temples break into them? What does Selesnya have to do with construction crews? How is that related to the phytotemple’s physiology and motivation? Most importantly, why is there a street named after a Selesnya dissident? I think you should have focused on one specific area of the card’s backstory.

@emmypupcake — Bloom Nurturer

I was really surprised that there wasn’t a card already named this. In terms of card wording, look at High Tide or Bubbling Muck; I think it would read “Until end of turn, whenever you tap a Forest for mana, add an additional G.” The quote doesn’t light my world on fire, but it fits well and reads well. Just remember to indent the attribution with shift+enter. Overall? Good enough.

@fractured-infinity — Shara, Skalla Vengeant

I had to do a little digging, but I like how you incorporated Vivien’s lore in here. That said, Skalla is also, well, destroyed, presumably forever. Where did the spirit come from? Is it wandering around Skalla? In that case, did Vivien go back? Why? That raises a couple questions. In terms of this card, it’s broken. In anything but the most pushed Commander formats, it’s three mana to deal seven damage to any creature you want with minimal repercussions. Any prevention makes her impossible to deal with. In limited, she would sweep unfairly.

@ghost31415926535 — Man-Eater Wurm

Firstly, I would like to apologize for the flavor bar being in the middle of the line. That’s my bad. Let’s talk about the rest of the card. In concept, it shouldn’t be too overpowered. But deathtouch and trample together create complex rules baggage that many casual players simply don’t understand. Nine times out of ten, they’ll never be printed together. Seeing that this is exactly how you submitted it, consider for next time: Only the first keyword needs to be capitalized in a string. Something like Unearth needs its own line. The flavor text is standard enough. Just remember that quote attribution also needs its own line.

@gollumni — Gives You Hell

I love the name here. I got that All-American Rejects song stuck in my head now. Remember that one? Anyway. Firstly, you don’t need to put “target” there; “Enchant creature” implies it. Secondly, and least importantly, don’t forget you can add watermarks in MSE! Thirdly, the flavor text. I get it, but it doesn’t flow great. If there was some wordplay to be done on fire-spitting and whatever turn of phrase you used, like, “spitting poison” in the literal sense — I don’t know, I just expect something a little more concise. It’s a great concept and has the potential to be very funny, so points there. Also, the card itself? Fantastic.

@greensunzenith — Decorated Demon

Liking the name. I don’t like how this card has to be a rare. It’s more of an annoyance than anything. It feels like a card that prevents decisions. It’s not aggressive, nor is it particularly interactive. Conceptually it works, but I’m not in favor. The flavor text is a bit of a head-scratcher. The real question is: who is giving demons sigils? How do they become redeemed? On what world CAN demons become redeemed? This isn’t a Bant thing, is it? I’m a little lost as to the specifics, since it doesn’t play into any tropes and doesn’t inform the world in a recognizable way.

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes — Goblin Decorator

If the flavor text had simply been, in quotes, “Earwigs would go so well with that wallpaper!”, then this card could have been a runner-up. Also, this should definitely be an uncommon. The effect is awesome and powerful and annoying and plays into a variety of strategies. Still, the flavor text is just...too much. It’s a lot of text that tells a story that doesn’t really need to be told. We get enough from the name and that last sentence, combined with a fun ability that matches the card. That’s all we need! Gotta simplify.

@ignorantturtlegaming — Dust, Revenant Force

For future cards, I would highly recommend reading up on design philosophy, what Magic’s colors are about, and how cards come into being. There are a lot of questions that this card raises, and a lot of things that need to be edited.

Green doesn’t get first strike, certainly not mono-green.

Why does this card cost five green mana? What does it provide for the limited/constructed environment?

It should be “Fox Warrior.”

The first thing about the flavor text is that there is far too much of it. It’s exposition for exposition’s sake. Fine in a high fantasy short story, but not on a Magic card.

The second thing about the flavor text is that Dust appears to be a white-aligned character through their actions and themes. I don’t feel anything green about them.

@juggernaut-is-a-metalhead — Devil’s Payment

I’m going easy on card art attribution since, well, it’s Disney and they are indeed evil, but in the future, please attribute it to the show itself and/or the director/copyright holder. So, the card itself. Is it supposed to be a common? Is it an homage to Cruel Bargain and Infernal Contract? This certainly isn’t a common effect, and for one mana, well, I don’t know what to say about this card. In terms of the flavor text, why is everything separated in lines like a poem? It’s way too long to fit into a card with three lines of rules text already. I don’t really understand what it’s even trying to say. The devil asked for the MAN’S youth. What does that has to do with his own? And why is it only sometimes capitalized? I don’t really understand this at all.

@koth-of-the-hammerpants — Hidden Bombardier

Great name. For the card text, it’s powerful, arguably fine in the right format, but very strong regardless. It also needs to say “It deals 3 damage” instead of just “Deal.” Gotta get past the 90′s, erryone. So now, the flavor text... I kinda get it? I just don’t understand what makes this card a shapeshifter. I don’t understand the world in which shapeshifters exist. This card feels like a Goblin. It’s an interesting kamikaze take, if a little too flowery and on-the-nose. It doesn’t exactly inform me, and it doesn’t exactly excite me.

@mardu-lesbian — Ballynock Adoptee

I had to look up to make sure that there were dwarfs on Lorwyn, and by golly, you’re right, there are! In RW hybrid in Eventide, anyway. And that brings up to a major story problem. By the introduction of dwarfs, the world has already plunged into Shadowmoor, and the thoughtweft has already been replaced with the mindweft. I’m stealing this from the wiki, so berate me if I’m wrong, but I always got the sense that the kithkin were highly xenophobic regardless of where the Great Aurora was. The jarring question that remains is: how does a non-kithkin creature become part of the thoughtweft/mindweft? It goes against what we know about the Kithkin and the world in general. If there’s a good explanation, I’m all ears, but I’m not convinced at this point in time.

@mistershinyobject — Phenax’s Messenger

Bonus judge trivia time: I studied Latin in high school and a little in college. From what I can tell about The Callapheia from other cards bearing it’s flavor text, it is meant to evoke classical poetry from Greek and Latin epics. The lines are written four at a time, indented carefully. HERE is a link to all cards with “Callapheia” in the flavor text. The gist is, this card does NOT evoke that. There’s a lot of text, a lot of quotes, a lot of forced story that could have been way punchier if you just had stuff about a snake eating a prophet. I love the card as a limited filler. But yeah, gotta do more research into what it means to have certain aspects on your cards.

@nicolbolas96 — Unpredictable Betrayal

You know, it’s hard to evoke Nicol Bolas well in flavor text. He’s one of Magic’s major villains, a huge face of many sets, with years behind him. And honestly? You didn’t do a half-bad job in this flavor text. Props! That said, this card is way busted. For one, double strike doesn’t affect fighting at all, so that’s...something. For two, it would need to be three sentences; you did a run-on for that last one. For three, mechanically? This is a two-mana spell that eight times out of ten will absolutely destroy two creatures you don’t control. In limited, that’s insanely powerful. In any format that plays creatures, that’s usually amazingly good. There’s a reason spells like Blood Feud and Clash of Titans cost what they cost. Getting two creatures you don’t control to fight is powerful.

@nine-effing-hells — Cairn to Athusis

Actually, this card was one of my favorites from the contest. I’m a heavy Gruul player when I’m not playing cruel control, and I think the gist of this card is super interesting. You made it an enchantment artifact AND a shrine, giving flavor there as well to your new world. The only thing I would have changed is erasing that first sentence from your flavor text entirely. The second is so powerful that it stands on its own. It’s poetic without being overwrought, specific to the world and building off of known tropes. Also, it tells us that “orcs are RG in this world” which is a great mechanical touch. Just needed that little bit of trimming.

@real-aspen-hours — Deflect Consequences

Now this is an interesting card!... What practical use does it have? I’m curious what this has on something like Harmless Offering. I don’t believe that cast triggers will be affected. Maybe it would specifically go against things like “counter target spell you don’t control” or something, but if control changes... I’m uncertain of this card’s applications past the gimmick point. That said, it would be fun to cast a Leveler and have it enter the battlefield under an opponent’s control. I’m not in love with the flavor text. It’s fine. Doesn’t light my world on fire. A touch wordy. But it’s fine. Fits the name and the ability well, so that’s nice.

@reaperfromtheabyss — Inconquerable Alseid

Besides the fact that “Hope” should be lowercase and separated by a colon, the flavor text is really cool! I don’t like this card much. It’s honestly fine, and it’s an interesting commander card that could lead to some cool consequences, but there’s a reason Undaunted has reminder text. It doesn’t look good floating there by itself. There are some abilities that just need reminder text all the time, and Undaunted is on so few cards that it significantly needs this. I think I was a little too harsh on this card on my first go-around, but I haven’t warmed up to it yet. I think the great flavor could have been used on a simpler, more protective card.

@scavenger98 — Kadalla the Scornful

I’m 99% sure it should go “First strike, deathtouch, haste.” Order of keywords is weird sometimes. So are creature types. I don’t really understand the world on which an Elf can be Mardu colors. It’s a stretch of the imagination to say the least. The card itself is...fine? I’d honestly make her an uncommon in today’s world. Yeah, she’s powerful, but she’s a 2/1 for three with all different mana symbols. Regarding the flavor, it’s well-worded, but it’s lengthy and doesn’t actually tell us anything about the character or the world. It doesn’t inform the card, and that’s its major misstep. Again, though, good writing.

@shandylamb — Multani’s Offspring

A fine card, a funny flavor. Just so you know, though, “Saproling” is pretty much only relegated to the token, and this card would probably see print as a plant or fungus. And additionally, as nice as the pun is... What’s this card even trying to say in the story? Multani’s only known child is Muldrotha, and that’s deep lore as-is. As funny as this card might be, it really doesn’t mesh with a Magic feel.

@starch255 — Unscrupulous Horpske

There are only two things I’m concerned about. Firstly: what about this creature makes it “unscrupulous?” What scruples does it have normally in its species? Secondly, this card is trying to make potato salad canon in the multiverse, and I don’t know if such a travesty would be allowed to happen. Potato salad is an affront to taste, no offense to the horpske.

Literally everything else about this card is a 10/10. I would also encourage you to work on a set symbol. Everyone should!

@teaxch — Hidden Seers

Interesting. So what timeline is this? Is this supposed to be, like, a return to Tarkir? Cool concept, I think, although I’m not entirely sold. After hearing the shaman’s whispers, why is Surrak’s first instinct to assume that without dragons a human would lead the clan? Wouldn’t the thought of a world without dragons evoke other thoughts and fears first? That’s my main hand-iffy-motion reason. This is also a supremely petty nitpick, probably the pettiest thing I’ve ever said about a card, but if this is the Dragon timeline then wouldn’t the watermark be the Atarka one instead of the Temur one?

@tmstage — Apostasy

Everything about this card is good...individually. Great name, but what does that have to do with the ability? What is it trying to depict? What does shuffling your library have to do with religious dogma? And the flavor text feels overbearing. Nykita as a character is someone I’d like to know more about, but this card doesn’t tell me much about her. It’s mostly that the mechanics and the flavor don’t mesh in the least, and, well, it’s not a good mechanic. Shuffling is time-consuming, game-prolonging, and has no discernible benefit to the game outside of incredibly niche cards that mostly don’t affect you as the player. And the more I read the flavor text, the less it makes sense. “Allow the world to deform your flawed notions?” It sounds awesome, but what does it mean?

Thank you all for your submissions. New contest tomorrow.

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom magic card #contest #entries #commentary #flavor town #inventor's fair

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rigelmejo · 4 years

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Listening-Reading Method - Example and Summary

If you would like to try the Listening-Reading Method with Daomubiji:

I’ve made a list of materials to use. The mtlnovel site’s english translations are not ideal, but they are in small chunks to glance at and are from google translate probably (so as good as making a parallel text yourself with machine translation). Also, mtlnovel uses traditional chinese for it’s raw text - which is enough for me even though I’m more comfortable with simplified, since I’m mainly using the parallel text for Step 3 (and so the chinese text is just to keep track of the audio as it lines up to the english translation). For step 2 I am using the original daomubiji.org site. This version on mtlnovel is only needed if you want a parallel text.

If you’re okay using 2 texts, then just use the dmbj original site for the chinese text, and the english published novels either in kindle or print format for the english text. For Step 3, you would use primarily the english text and try to open up the chinese text copy if you lose place with where the audio aligns to the plot.

Audio Material:

Audiobook - I believe this one is longer, more complete, and it reads slower and more clearly: https://m.5tps.me/play_m/1410_48_1_1.html

Audiobook on ximayala - this one is incomplete but I believe in progress, it reads faster and more slurred BUT I think its useful for Step 2. To get used to real native speech speeds and how in real speech people talk a bit less clearly - on a second listen though, I could hear everything perfectly, so the narrator’s voice is still pretty standard in the sense its as good as some voices in drama dubs: http://xima.tv/mPWuED?_sonic=0

*Other audio options. If for some reason you have no access to the above, or if they disappear, in a pinch a machine generated voice will probably be better than nothing. Options include Pleco Reader’s automatic reader voice (which is fairly good about correct word pronunciation, although the rhythm of sentences is not always natural). I have used that to listen to things before, and it is relatively helpful. It also allows you to control speed - so its very good as an intermediate listening step if you need something ‘slower’ at first. Another option is Talkify. This website it free, just paste in the daomubiji.org webpage. I’ve used it to read dmbj before and it sounds useful enough, I’ve also used it to read my own fanfictions back to me when I’m walking or hiking and trying to refresh what I wrote so I can do the next chapter - and except for names, the voice reader worked very well. In general I’d recommend talkify if you ever want something audio to listen to, and have no better human made recordings: https://talkify.net/web-reader-read-any-website-aloud

Text Material:

Parallel text on mtlnovel. To get the parallel text version you must - create a free account, then on the chapter page click ‘Settings’ at the top and turn on ‘RAW’ so you see traditional chinese over the english: https://www.mtlnovel.com/daomu-biji/chapter-1-seven-stars-lu-king-blood-corpse/

Original Text. You can use Pleco Reader, or an in-web-browser pop up dictionary to lookup words as you read through this in Step 2, if you’d like to learn any new words in step 2: http://www.daomubiji.org/1.html

English literary translation is the published novel. This is available as ebooks or as a print novel. I own the print novel. Print and Kindle edition available here: https://www.amazon.com/Grave-Robbers-Chronicles-vol-1-6/dp/1934159379/ref=sr_1_1?crid=25A1XI175ECCN&dchild=1&keywords=the+grave+robbers+chronicles+set&qid=1599926362&sprefix=the+grave+robbe%2Caps%2C165&sr=8-1

*Free english translation - if you want a fast easily accessible free version, it will be a machine translation. Either use mltnovel’s dmbj version (you can turn off RAW if you only want to see the english). Or, just go to the daomubiji.org site and either right-click in Chrome “translate to english” or go to baidutranslate and have that machine-translate the webpage.

*A note on using machine translations: Both machine translations have their own set of flaws, I find both to get the translations wrong in slightly different ways. Both are relatively followable though, if they’re your only options. I would highly suggest knowing an overview of chinese grammar before looking at a machine translation - I found that with all machine translations, they mess up he/she/it a lot, they mess up if something is just being labelled a noun/nickname (instead saying ‘child’ or ‘head’ or ‘team’), they mess up if something is a name or specific object (proper names get weirdly wrong-pinyin translated, and objects that could be both proper names OR regular nouns get confused - for example Fei Ye in Silent Reading ‘Master Fei’ is often translated as Grandpa Fei, and ‘Captain’ Luo as in police captain, is translated as Team Luo. In dmbj, things like ‘3rd kid’ are translated as if they were proper names instead of the words ‘3rd kid,’ and ‘experienced men squatting down’ gets translated as ‘Tofus mound’ in chapter 1 since I’m guessing it looked like a ‘name’ to the machine translation.) So having some basic chinese knowledge, and seeing a parallel text first, will help you catch these clear errors and ignore them. Using a human translation such as the published books, or fan’s translations, will be better in the sense these issues will be largely removed.

A refresher, on what the Listening-Reading Method is:

Step 1 (optional, but helps with context, so recommended unless you already are familiar with your chosen story): Read the story in your Language 1 (a language you know well, english in this example).

Step 2 (optional, if you are already comfortable with the language you are studying’s speed of speech and hearing the boundaries of words/sentences): Read through the story in Language 2 (a language you are learning, chinese in this example). Focus on keeping your eyes lined up with the words as they are spoken, on following the text as the audio plays along. Focus on noticing the different sounds in the language, the word boundaries, the phrase and sentence boundaries. At this step, you do not need to actually look up and define every word you don’t know. The focus is on getting familiar with the audio sentences and getting used to hearing it as sentences and words. You may, if you desire, look up word meanings as you run across new words, but this is optional. I personally like to do this step twice - once with a machine-audio like Pleco reader, so I can stop and look up/replay word audio whenever I am curious about specific words. Then the second time with human narrator audio, not pausing the audio at all and just following along as I read. If I struggle to follow along, then I listen/read again until I can easily look at the words as I hear the audio without losing my place.

Step 3 (the only mandatory step, and can be done immediately if you’re comfortable with both context and listening to the language-you’re-studying already): Read the Language 1 (english) translation, while listening to the Language 2 (chinese) audio. You can either use a parallel text with both languages - so that you can reference the Language 2 lines when you lose your place/want a clear visual match up to what you hear. Or you can use only the Language 1 text. The goal is to match the translation (the ‘definition’) with audio you are hearing, so that you can make the connection that what you hear ‘means’ what you’re reading. So far from my experience, I would say Language 1 only text works better when the audio is shorter or of simpler content, because its harder to get ‘lost’ and lose where the audio matches up to the Language 1 translation. The longer the audio, the more a parallel text helps prevent you from losing your place between the audio versus the equivalent Language 1 translation. Also, the more you have already looked up definitions in Step 2 Language 2 reading, then the less likely you will be to get lost as you listen-read in this Step 3. Ideally, try to listen without pausing. Attempt to match the meaning of the Language 1 (english) sentences you’ve just read, as you hear the equivalent audio Language 2 sentences (chinese). Your goal is to see the meaning in real time of each word you hear, since you’re visually looking at the translation right before/as you hear it. Ideally, this should create a situation where most of your input is now ‘comprehensible input.’ Mainly just focus on trying to keep the text translations you read roughly matched up in your mind with the audio you hear. You will notice you are starting to comprehend/understand some of the L2 (chinese) phrases and words. You may repeat a section over a few times, or you may simply progress on to the next paragraph/page/chapter as desired. Over time, as you get more input, you should start to comprehend more of what you’re hearing. As you comprehend more, you should be able to match the audio with the equivalent english translation easier. As you do this, you should free up some of your ‘focus’ so you can start picking out what each specific WORD you hear is the equivalent english translation of. I would recommend testing this method with an easier learning material first - I tested this with chapter 1 of The Little Prince. But any short story with both language texts, and audio, will do. If its easier, you will reach the point quicker where you can start purposefully focusing on matching what you hear to specific translation definitions as you read - which is the point at which you are actually LEARNING new words/phrases in the language you’re learning. If the text is so complex you’re easily getting lost, then it will be harder for you to do this at first - and it will be harder for you to tell if that’s what you’re doing at all. Once you know HOW to do it, then go to a harder long text and attempt to do the same thing. With harder texts, you may find that at first you need to do Step 3 a few times on a single section of text, until its easier for you to keep track of your place in the text aligned with audio - and THEN work on the actual task of matching what you hear to it’s translation/definition. Even with the easier material, I did step 3 twice on one section of text, because the first time I was too lost to properly follow the text with the audio. Also - you will likely notice that your audio does NOT match up perfectly with your translated text (either they changed some sentences in the translation, or the audio is based on a different original text version etc). So a second listen through of Step 3, you’ll be able to anticipate those parts and not get lost because of them. The person who shared the Listening-Reading method suggests working through long texts (like long novels) from start to finish. Perhaps by page or chapter sections of text (if you need to do Step 1 and 2 first). Then they suggest going through a book a few times in Step 3. They say you will notice you comprehend more as you get further into the book in Step 3, and by the 3rd time through the book you should comprehend nearly everything. Based on their suggestions, I would say you will start to notice on a small scale if this method is giving you progress once you are several chapters in. And if you are on your second Step 3 trip through a story, and STILL do not comprehend much - then either you did something incorrectly (probably step 3) or this study method just is not helpful for you. But do not expect near-perfect comprehension until at the minimum towards the end of the story, or at least after a few full progressions through the story.

***Lastly, if all else fails: just doing Step 1 and a modified version of Step 2 is literally just a great study strategy to read in a target language, so you can utilize those parts to make this adventure into trying L-R not a total waste, even if L-R doesn’t work out for you. For modifying Step 2: you would just do one sequence of Step 2 where you DO look up every word you need to in order to understand that version of the text. That is basically reading in your target language for the goal of comprehending the actual main meaning and gist of the plot, with definition look-up. Ideally, you’d at some point want to also do the rest of Step 2 - the focus on using it to match the audio with word and phrase boundaries, and get used to the speed of the language. If you are good enough in a language already to follow the main gist of a plot just by reading with NO lookup - then step 2 will already probably count as extensive reading, which probably benefits you to a degree. And the focus on matching audio to text will help bring your listening skills up to your reading skill level. As far as I can tell, Step 3 just seems to be a different way to do that ‘intensive definition lookup of all words you don’t know’ in a way that has no stopping or pausing, is more fast paced, and incorporates listening skills into it, than traditional intensive-reading word lookup. So it makes sense why Step 3 feels very intensive and requires a lot of focus - if you’re doing it right, it probably feels as intense as intensive reading. (If you do step 3 wrong, it will probably feel just like listening to an audiobook in Language 2 in the background - you’ll hear things you already know and get better at recognizing them, but not understand anything extra over time). But unlike intensive reading, you will be also adding in listening comprehension practice, and you’ll be doing it VERY FAST. Having tried out L-R, it feels much faster paced and therefore motivating than intensive reading - since constant word lookups in traditional intensive reading can easily make it feel like you’re hardly reading/progressing. Also, the intensity required to pick up new words in Step 3 means that STEP 1 IS VITAL. You must already understand the key story points BEFORE starting step 3, you must already have context! Otherwise, you will be repeating Step 3 a few extra times because the first time around you might mainly just be reading the translation to pick up the initial plot/context. Now, if you’re cool with repeating Step 3 a few extra times, that’s fine. But if you want Step 3 to feel less ‘intense’ on its demand of your focus, then already being familiar with the source story material is ideal. Step 2 is also vital IF you realize that you’re losing your place in the text vs audio too often in Step 3. Otherwise, again, you will have to do Step 3 a few extra times (or pause/restart audio multiple times) in order to make sure you can match your place in the audio with your place in the translation. The ability to match audio to translation, was what I had the most difficulty doing, when trying to do L-R with daomubiji (since the audio is so long).

#rant #study method #listening reading method #listening reading #l r method

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themurphyzone · 4 years

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104 Words for 104 Days: Dynasty Part 1: Princess

AN: Takes place in Doof Dynasty time period. Artistic liberties have been taken, and by that I mean a LOT of artistic liberties have been taken. Also, I really wanted to write something with Isabella as the protagonist and this seemed like a good place to do it. Since this turned out much longer than I expected, I decided to just divide it into two parts.

Dynasty Part 2 Coming Soon!

“Sir! Our defenses have been compromised!” General Carl shouted, rushing into the royal palanquin and collapsing into a dead faint in front of Regent Monogram.

Princess Isabella moved her ink pot before Carl’s head could smash into it. Sensing that the calligraphy lesson was over, she carefully put the materials away while Monogram waved a jar of incense in Carl’s face.

“General, don’t faint until you’ve given us the necessary exposition first,” Monogram scolded. “And especially not in front of the Princess.”

Carl nodded weakly. “Of course, sir. My apologies, Princess.”

“Accepted,” Isabella said. “What’s this about our defenses being compromised? Surely Master Perry wouldn’t leave our country unprotected.”

“Princess, are you sure you want to hear about this?” Monogram coughed. “You’re not much more than a ceremonial figurehead until you’re of age. Until then, it’s perfectly acceptable if you want to lavish in luxury and leave the worrying to the professionals.”

Isabella fixed him with an icy glare. “Regent, I respect you and your administrative decisions. But I’ve fought Doofus Khan in a terracotta warrior before and if you’ll pardon my unprincess-like language, kicked his sorry butt back to the steppes of Mongolia. Those commoner boys fought for the Tri-Province Area and me when they were hardly trained, and I intend to do the same.”

“How old is she again?” Carl whispered to Monogram.

“Older than a child but younger than a teenager,” Monogram whispered back. “It’s the bow, I think. Throws everyone off.”

“Your report, General,” Isabella demanded.

Carl stood up and bowed his head. “The commoner boys who saved the Tri-Province Area were building the northern tower of the Great Wall near the Large Bamboo Forest of Largeness when Doofus Khan kidnapped them. Master Perry is currently training at the Loud Waterfall of Loudness, which is notoriously difficult for even the most fleetfooted messengers to access. Doofus Khan left this scroll, most likely to demoralize us before swooping in for his conquest.”

He handed the scroll to Monogram, who unfolded it and grimaced at the ink picture of Doofus Khan sticking his tongue out with a finger above his lip in an obvious mockery of his mustache.

“This means war,” Monogram huffed. “My mustache and beard combo is highly fashionable in this day and age.”

“There’s a message at the bottom,” Isabella said, placing her finger in the blank space to avoid smudging the ink.

Mwahahaha! If you want the boys back (lousy defense system by the way, do you guys really not have a militia?), send Princess Isabella to my Inescapable Fortress of Inescapableness! I wanted to call it the Inescapable Fortress of Doom, but my new scribe is defensive of his names. Just head due north. That’s all the directions I’m giving you. Don’t worry, you can’t miss it. Or do worry, cause I’ll be taking the Tri-Province Area soon enough! Have a bad day!

Wishing you all the misery in the world,

Doofus Khan

“Without Princess Isabella’s undeniable charm, our country will fall to ruin!” Monogram groaned. “We can’t abide by this fiend’s terms!”

“You aren’t stopping me,” Isabella declared. “I’m going to save my friends and the Tri-Province Area!”

“But-“

Isabella held up her hand to silence him. “I appreciate your concern. But I can take care of myself.”

“Very well,” Monogram sighed, the scroll dropping out of his hands with a dull thud.

Carl raised a hand sheepishly. “Sir, I believe I have the solution. Lady Firesong has trained a squad of preteen girls in the art of bodyguarding, self-defense, survival, pottery, gator wrestling, and decorative cupcake making. This would make for an excellent training exercise for the girls. I’ll send her a message after I’m finished fainting for the second time.”

Then he fainted again.

“I still think we’re doomed,” Monogram muttered.

o-o-o-o-o

The training complex wasn’t anything grand, especially compared to what Isabella was used to, but they had enough equipment that would make an entire Roman army jealous. Many silkworm cocoons lined each plant in the garden, and Isabella plucked one off the leaf out of curiosity, slipping it into her flowing sleeves while Monogram’s back was turned. He led them through a lantern-lit path until they reached an ancient portrait, which depicted an elderly woman in a flowing purple robe.

To Isabella’s surprise, the portrait bowed.

“I am Lady Firesong. Welcome, Princess Isabella. I’ve received word that you wish to perform a rescue mission. The girls who volunteered to accompany you are highly skilled in many areas. I hope you’ll find their company adequate,” the elderly woman rasped, then turned and clapped her hands. “Alright, girls! The Firesong anthem for the Princess, just like in rehearsal! One, two, three!”

Five girls in matching orange robes hurried into formation, singing the cutest song Isabella had ever heard in her life.

“-and it’s not too terribly long!” they chorused with a banner of the Tri-Province Area in the background.

Isabella applauded, much to the girls’ delight. Monogram didn’t look too impressed though. “Yes, yes, that was great. Princess, will you be okay?”

“Failure is not an option,” Isabella replied.

“Good,” Major Monogram said, reaching into his robe and pulling out a ribbon-tied scroll. “Deliver this scroll to Doofus Khan, will you? I, uh, have a very important message for him.”

“You can count on me!” Isabella exclaimed, taking the scroll.

Monogram nodded in approval and left, confused at the angry looks that were thrown his way when he still didn’t acknowledge their song.

“Well, it looks like my work here is done!” Lady Firesong exclaimed, settling back into her chair. “I am so glad I can rest here and let children handle matters of national security.”

o-o-o-o-o

Isabella’s clothing was custom-made by a tailor who exclusively served royalty, so creating her own Firesong robe was an entirely new experience for her. If Regent Monogram could see her filling baskets of cocoons, he would be horrified at the manual labor that a princess of her caliber certainly shouldn’t be doing.

But if a princess could operate a terracotta soldier, then she could easily create a robe out of raw silk. Besides, it was a great opportunity for learning about the other girls. She committed Gretchen, Holly, Katie, Ginger, Millie, and Adyson’s names to memory, only mixing them up twice when she was too busy taking the silk threads out of the boiling water.

“-and that’s why Lady Firesong trains us from birth. As a result, none of us really know who our parents are, but the rewards are worth it,” Gretchen explained as Isabella removed the finished robe from the loom. “I’ve always been told I’m more of a second in command type anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Isabella asked, stepping behind a bamboo screen to try on the robe. It was shorter than what she was used to, just barely reaching her knees, but much less restricting than her royal clothes. “I wouldn’t want to take your leader position just because I’m a princess.”

Gretchen smiled. “No, I can give orders, but I lack the charisma of a natural born leader. I should know. I’ve been trying for the Charisma Patch for years.”

“Well, I can always teach you,” Isabella offered. “It takes skill, confidence, and taking advantage of our naturally cute dispositions, but I’m sure you’d be able to learn!”

“Thanks! So, what do you think of the uniform?” Gretchen asked.

Isabella pushed the screen aside, twirling in her Firesong robe. “It may look delicate, but it’s durable,” Isabella said. “Also, I never knew I pulled orange off this well. I’ll have to ask my tailor for more clothing in this shade.”

Gretchen nodded, then poked her head in the doorway. “Katie! Are the accessories ready yet?”

“Right here!” Katie shouted, hurrying into the room and handing an orange sash and hairbow to Isabella.

“These sashes are the most important part of the Firesong uniform,” Gretchen said, pointing to her own sash. Unlike Isabella’s, hers was decorated with several colorful patches. “They’re proof of our accomplishments and fairly useful in a fight. Plus, we pooled our silver pieces for a hairbow. We just thought it’d look good on you.”

“Aw, you girls didn’t have to go that far!” Isabella exclaimed as she put on the sash. She let Ginger tie the hairbow, since the girl seemed enthusiastic about touching her hair.

Now that she couldn’t be recognized as a royal, they were ready for action.

“Storm the base!” Adyson shouted.

“Bring lots and lots of weaponry!” Holly suggested, pounding her fist into her hands.

It seemed they didn’t have much of a head for strategy. But Isabella supposed that was what a leader was for.

“Our main objective is infiltrating Doofus Khan’s fortress and rescuing the boys so they can complete the Great Wall,” Isabella said, and silence fell instantly. “But we need to pack only necessary items because a giant desert lies to the north, and we’ll need to cross it in order to get there. In other words, no more than what a two-humped camel can carry.”

“Katie, fill the water flasks!” Gretchen barked. “Ginger and Adyson, grab the food! Make sure you include lots of ox jerky!”

Adyson groaned. “I really hate ox jerky...”

“It’s a start, but there’s a necessary stop we should take before heading north,” Isabella continued. “Master Perry is currently training at the Loud Waterfall of Loudness, so we’ll need to go there first and get his help. What do you girls think?”

“Let’s go!” Millie exclaimed. The other girls echoed her battle cry.

Ginger held up a lute. “I’m in charge of the travel music!”

The other girls glanced at her.

“What? Travel music and a montage are necessary items too!”

o-o-o-o-o

Ginger’s idea of travel music was playing ‘You Snuck Your Way Right into My Rice Paddy’ over and over again. Sure, everyone liked the song, but after two hundred repeats without taking requests from anyone else?

Not so much.

Everyone was relieved when the roar of the waterfall drowned out her lute. Unfortunately, it drowned out everything else too.

Relying on finger signals and other forms of non-verbal communication, they made their way through the lush undergrowth. Millie and Holly used sharp rocks to mark every tree they passed to make the return journey faster, Katie scouted ahead, and Gretchen and Ginger dragged Adyson between them, who was still recovering from a nasty fall in a ditch.

When they finally arrived at the riverbank, they found Master Perry meditating underneath a pounding waterfall.

“Master Perry! The Tri-Province Area is in trouble again!” Isabella shouted, but couldn’t make herself heard above the waterfall.

Everyone except Adyson added their voices, shouting as loud as they could, but neither the platypus or panda were paying attention.

Isabella silenced them with a wave of her hand. It just wasn’t enough of a hook to nab Master Perry’s full attention. They needed something more.

Isabella inhaled and screeched in the deepest voice she could manage.

“YOUR FORMER STUDENTS ARE IMPRISONED IN DOOFUS KHAN’S FORTRESS!”

Master Perry’s eyes snapped open. He dove into the water, resurfacing with a topknot and traditional warrior’s outfit.

The group went back to the main road so they could talk without screaming over the waterfall. Adyson muttered something about salamanders, her head lolling against Gretchen’s shoulder as her sandals dragged against the leafy soil.

“How did you do that?” Holly demanded, her hair still frizzed from the waterfall.

“I’m excellent at breath control. Plus it’s great for scaring Regent Monogram,” Isabella said. She turned to Master Perry and bowed respectfully. “The Firesong Girls and I wish to accompany you to the fortress. It is my duty as a princess to protect my subjects, and I cannot do that from a palanquin. You’ve trained the boys well back when they rescued me from Doofus Khan’s evil clutches. I will repay the favor.”

Master Perry stared off into space, several vibrations rippling through the air.

“Is that an attack?” Gretchen asked. She pulled off her sash, looping it around her hand and twirling the other end in the air.

“Stand down,” Isabella ordered. “He’s having a flashback. Just wait it out.”

Gretchen reluctantly obeyed.

A few seconds later, the rippling dissipated and Master Perry bowed.

“He’s done, hopefully,” Isabella said. “Phineas mentioned he has a habit of doing this. So, guess we’re heading due north now. Do any of you know where we can rent some camels?”

Master Perry gestured for everyone to follow him.

“Who’s ready for more travel music?” Ginger asked. She tuned her lute, smiling brightly as she strummed a chord.

“NO!” Millie and Holly screamed.

“Hehe, the salamanders are doing opera,” Adyson giggled.

o-o-o-o-o

Turns out Master Perry knew a faster way to transport them to the fortress. One that involved a massive red dragon that resembled the ones at Chinese New Year (but since it’s China, they just call it New Year), but much larger, more metallic, and without relying on people’s feet for an energy source.

“Master Perry! So good to see ya! Finally come out of retirement, I see! ‘Bout time! Never approved of you giving up on saving China after one little incident,” a jovial woman exclaimed. “And you brought an entourage this time! Name’s Glenda, so don’t forget it! What brings you girls to the Dragon Train?”

“We’re going to Doofus Khan’s fortress to rescue our friends. But isn’t this a little advanced for 1542?” Isabella asked, pointing to the giant dragon that Glenda called a ‘train’.

“Yes, yes it is,” Glenda said, her eyes widening. “Did you say Doofus Khan’s fortress, girlie? Don’t you know that place is inescapable? I deliver supplies there myself. Don’t look at me like that, a woman’s gotta make her living somehow.”

“It’s only inescapable because nobody’s ever tried it before. It’ll be completely escapable by the time we’re finished,” Isabella said.

Glenda slapped her knee and laughed. “I like your gumption, girlie! Climb aboard! It’ll take twenty minutes to get there, so just kick back and let the Dragon Train do the work.”

“Twenty minutes? That’s so fast! And I was planning on a day and a half’s hike,” Gretchen said.

“It’s coal-powered,” Glenda shrugged. “Convenient for us, but makes a heck of a mess in the air. Ah, well. Problem for a future century.”

“I’m game!” Adyson shouted, snapping out of her salamander delirium. “Never been on a train before, but who cares? Better than relying on ox jerky!”

“Man, I would’ve packed my mahjong board if I’d known we’d be taking a train,” Holly grumbled.

Isabella turned to the north, signaling Gretchen and Ginger to wave their fans behind her and produce a dramatic wind. “My name is Princess Isabella, and we’re going to defeat you once and for all, Doofus Khan! You won’t pillaging anything by the time we’re through with you!”

#phineas and ferb #isabella garcia shapiro #fireside girls #major monogram #carl karl #fanfiction #104 words for 104 days

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