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weasleydream · 4 years

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The freaking worst working day of my life

AYAAAA I’m finally back! I’m just so freaking happy!

Despite my long absence I still don’t know what to write here so I’ll just warn you: mention of sexual tension but nothing big really. Oh, and writing this gave me the idea to try something only based on this game between George and Y/N with the tension, would you guys like it?

Anyway, enjoy!

Masterlist

(gif not mine)

George was a very serious guy when it came to his work. He was as passionate as his twin, Fred, and could stay entire nights developing new products. No, his seriousness wasn’t in doubt. But, it’s true that when I was in the shop with him, he could be a bit...distracted. The fact that I worked in there didn’t really help. Result? Some days, we spent more time in the back shop snogging than helping Fred. These days, the poor guy couldn’t do anything and had to resign himself, but the guilt always pushed us to offer Fred a day off the the next day. Yeah, we weren’t monsters.

However, this time, we would have to offer him a week off, because I was unable to take my hands off my boyfriend. In my own defense, he didn’t ask me to. We were currently in our shared room, in the flat, because Fred had had enough of our “disturbing noises”. Let’s say things were… Well, there was an undeniable sexual tension between us, since we had had the wonderful idea to bet we would be able not to do anything in bed for a week. Stupid. But the worse wasn’t that, no. The worse was the teasing. And Merlin knew George was excellent when it came to the teasing. I had to be at least as good as him, and I was pretty sure I had succeeded because earlier this morning, he had pushed me against the wall in the back shop and had kissed me passionately, groaning he couldn’t wait anymore. We had joined our room and let’s just say the bet was far from us.

“Maybe we should go and help Fred.”

I was feeling guilty because he was once more alone. George didn’t seem to share my compassion for his twin because he groaned.

“He’s fine…”

He tightened his grip around my waist while sticking his nose in my hair. I installed myself more comfortably against his chest and closed my eyes, ready for a nap.

My plans fell through as soon as Fred called for us. I was ready to yell him to shut up when he called a second time, with a serious tone that alarmed us. George and I rushed downstairs, joining Fred and a man who couldn’t be anyone else than the Minister for Magic.

I had seen his face in the Daily Prophet. He was Fudge’s successor, Rufus Scrimgeour. He was looking down on the shop, raising his eyebrows when he saw the muggle products. He continued his inspection a few seconds after our arrival and eventually consented to look at us.

“Let me introduce myself: Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic.”

“I’m Fred, this is my brother, George, and Y/N, his girlfriend.”

He shook Fred’s hand, then George’s but didn’t even look at me.

“I am here because you might know the situation we are facing. Our employees need protections. They are afraid, but we need them at the Ministry.”

George and I exchanged a look. What the hell did it have to do with us? Fred seemed to think exactly the same because he interrupted the Minister.

“We are perfectly aware of the situation. Why are you here, sir?”

“I’m here to ask you to provide us 500 Shield Hats as soon as possible. I expect a first delivery the next week in person. We will discuss the details at that time. Goodbye.”

He shook briefly the boys’ hand, ignored me once more and left. I realized the door was closed, and, deep in thought, went to open it. Some customers entered, asking loudly what just happened. No one answered them, though, because Fred and George were as thoughtful as me.

“Are we gonna accept?” asked Fred.

“I don’t think you have the choice.” I responded. “He made it pretty clear.”

“I really don’t like his manners.” grumbled George. “But Y/N’s right. We can’t ignore this. Plus, we’re gonna gain a great amount of money.”

The following week was devoted to the fabrication of the Hats. It was a long process, because the Protecting Charm had to be straightened several times. However, the Shield Hats weren’t the only products we had to produce: the shop was still open and had an incredible success. It was full of children all days long and before the opening and after the closure, we had to clean everything, fill the shelves and make some Shield Hats. What a hell of a schedule.

However, we soon found out it was all worth it. Four days after Scrimgeour’s visit, Molly sent us an owl. In her letter, she was congratulating us for the article in the Daily Prophet… Article that none of us had had the occasion to read. We had received it but it had been immediately put on the counter. George grabbed it, opened it, and a big smile appeared on his lips.

“Look at this!”

He shoved the newspaper under our noses. Half of the page was occupied with a picture of the boys grinning in front of the shop. It was after its opening, I was still at Hogwarts at this moment. Underneath the picture, an article traced Fred and George’s childhood, telling some pranks they had pulled at school - I didn’t really know how they could know that - and it boasted the quality of the Weasley products. The end of the article described how concerned by the wizarding world’s security they were, and how, in their great kindness, they had offered to supplied the Ministry in defense products.

“That’s great but -” I started.

“We offered them? Are they kidding? Don’t tell me I’ve ruined my sleep schedule only because I’m kind!” exploded Fred.

George, who obviously hadn’t read the article yet, frowned.

“Offered? I guess we’ll have some explanations to ask…” he muttered.

The week was finally over and we had managed to produce a hundred Hats. All three of us were exhausted but, as we had understood, we didn’t have any choice. The day before the delivery, I was making diner in the kitchen while Fred was organizing everything for the next day and George was cleaning the living-room.

“Guess you’ll owe me another day off.” said Fred after a particularly long yawn.

“Why? We’ve helped you all week long.” replied George.

“Because I’m the one who’ll go to the Ministry tomorrow.”

“I thought you two would go.” I frowned while making sure the vegetables weren’t burning.

“I thought all three of us would go.” replied George.

We burst in laughters, and I couldn’t help but notice it seemed a bit hysterical. I guess we were really tired, that’s probably why calming down was so difficult. We eventually managed to do it and a heavy silence took place.

“Seriously, you both should go.” I said. “It’s pretty clear Scrimgeour wants to see you two, and he doesn’t give a damn about me. Plus we can’t let Verity alone here and it would be stupid to close the shop on a friday.”

“You’re not wrong,” sighed Fred. “George, what do you think?”

“I don’t like the idea of letting you here alone.” replied George. “Not because I don’t trust you, you know I do!” He added quickly when he saw my frown. “Just because… I don’t know, with everything happening out there…”

“You’re not wrong too.”

“By Merlin’s pants Fred, you’re so useful!” I groaned. “Don’t worry love, you’ll be gone for a day and Verity will help me. Nothing will happen.”

We finally decided that Fred and George would both go to the Ministry. The next morning, the noise made by the boys in the kitchen woke me up. Knowing I could sleep a bit more than them, I snuggled closer to George with a sigh of satisfaction. Wait a minute...

“What are you doing here?”

George groaned and pulled me closer to him. I shook him but he didn’t move, only muttering something that sounded like I’m too comfortable, you won’t make me move.

“George, love, you’ve got to wake up. You go to the Ministry today!”

He turned a deaf ear. Understanding I had to do this the hard way, I took the only rational decision when George refused to get out of bed: I pushed him. He fell on the floor with a groan.

“Y/N, what the hell?”

“You’ve got to go…”

I was on the verge of falling asleep again when he lifted me and threw me on his shoulder. My scream came higher than usual, and George chuckled softly.

“If I can’t sleep, you can’t either, love.”

He arrived in the kitchen, and Fred, who was drinking a large cup of coffee, didn’t even lift an eyebrow when he saw us. I realized this wasn’t uncommon and he had to be used to such situations with us. George threw me on the couch, almost sending me crash on the floor, and literally jumped on me. He approached his face in order to kiss me.

“George,” I whispered. “You stink.”

“You too. Shut up and kiss me.”

I gladly obliged, and I swore we would have made out right here if Fred hadn’t cough very loudly.

“You’re really adorable, but I want to stay innocent, thank you very much.”

“Innocent?” George stifled a laugh. “Mate, you’re no longer innocent. Remember when you brought Angelina in our dorm and then I came in with Lee and you were -”

“It was your fault. You should have knocked.”

With that, he looked at us with a false horrified expression, and left, mumbling we had a lot to learn in terms of decency. George rolled his eyes and put his head on my chest, making himself comfortable while being careful I was too. My hands found their way to his soft hair. We stayed like this a few minutes, enjoying each other’s warmth, listening to each other’s breath, until Fred came out of the bathroom.

“You know, I really feel like I’m always interrupting.” He said with a cheerful tone.

“Because you are.” grumbled George.

He got up, keeping my hand in his the longer he could before heading in the bathroom. I glanced at Fred: he was wearing a green suit and ruffled a bit his hair.

“You’re sure you’re gonna be okay?” He asked.

I looked up to see his worry eyes.

“You know, George is right, with everything happening -”

“Don’t worry Fred, it’s your big moment!” I said.

He grinned but I knew better than this: these two idiots would stop worrying about me when they would be back, not a second before. George came out of the bathroom and we went in the shop. It was still closed, so I didn’t mind wearing my pajamas. Fred went in the back shop probably to take the boxes that contained the hats.

I felt George’s hands on my hips and his lips sweetly kissing each part of my skin they could reach. His mouth moved in my neck and he lightly nibbled the soft spot under my jaw before attacking my lips. Our tongues found each other for a sensual dance, and our hands started travelling across the other’s body. We had to pull apart way too soon for our liking, but I couldn’t resist the urge to press my forehead against his. His eyes were closed and his lips were curled up in a peaceful smile. I heard the door of the shop and assumed Fred was waiting outside for his brother. He knew his brother was worried and didn’t want to interrupt, that was really sweet of him. As much as I hated it, they had to leave.

“Love, you have to go.” I whispered.

“I don’t want to… I want to stay with you.”

His breath tickled me.

“You don’t want to make your fanclub waiting in front of the Ministry, do you?”

He opened his eyes and threw me a playful look.

“I had almost forgotten them!” he exclaimed. “I have to join them right away then!”

But he pressed me against his chest once more, obviously unable to let me go and, to be honest, I didn’t want him to do so.

“The later you leave, the later you’ll come back.” I pecked his lips. “Besides, Fred is going to barge in soon and he’ll drag you outside whether you like it or not.”

“I understand, you want me to go.” He faked a hurt expression. “Keep the galleon with you, love, okay? If anything happens -”

“I will warn you, I promise.” One last kiss. “Move your ass, love.”

George smiled at me and left the shop. I watched him as he joined Fred, probably receiving a sarcastic comment because he hit lightly his shoulder, and they disappeared with a pop I would have heard if I had been outside. Without realizing it, I had shoved my hand in the pocket of the jacket I had put on. My fingers were holding firmly the galleon Hermione had given me back at our last year at Hogwarts. It was originally used for the Dumbledore’s Army communication, but we had slightly transformed the charm so that Fred, George and I could send short messages if needed. It was quicker and more discreet than owls. I promised myself to keep it with me all day long before joining the flat above the shop. I got dressed with the traditional magenta robe and came in the kitchen to find a little black owl perched on the table. I recognized it; it was Verity’s. I quickly unfolded the piece of parchment it had brought me and read the message.

I’m sorry, I’m terribly sick, I won’t be able to work today. Verity

I quickly scribbled some words to wish her a good healing and sent back the owl. I sighed when I realized I would be alone all day long and summoned up courage. If I was alone, I should head downstairs and start my day the sooner possible.

Despite me being alone, the day went at the speed of light. It was a very busy friday, and the little shop was always crowded with customers, both delighted children and amazed parents. It was also really loud in there, but I was now used to it. I had been there everyday since the beginning of the holidays, but I still could see why this place was so magical. Of course, the shelves covered in potions of all types and the fluffy Pygmy Puffs helped, but it wasn’t what I prefered here. It was like another world where everyone would be a child again, and even the stricter parents would melt in front of their children eyes when they were full of stars.

The stream of customers slowly decreased and I eventually found myself alone in the shop without knowing when the boys would come back. I had kept the galleon with me without needing to use it, and I was kinda relieved the day was almost over. They owe me a free day, it’s too difficult to be alone here, and I haven’t even eaten. Indeed, the last thing I had swallowed was a piece of bread before heading downstairs with George and my stomach was seriously rumbling. However, I still had some things to do before being free. I checked the hour and saw the shop would officially close twenty minutes later. Even if I didn’t think any customer would come that late, I let the door open. With a wave of my wand, the less fragile products came from the back shop and landed on the shelves. However, I preferred storing the potions myself, it would prevent the accidents. I was filling the pink tray of love potions when I heard the door opening. I quickly looked up, hoping the boys were back, but it was a man who entered the shop. He nodded to say hello, and I smiled politely at him.

“I’m going to put the Pygmy Puffs in their cage, will you buy one?”

The man shook quickly his head and glared at the furballs. I summoned the cage and carefully placed them all in it. I brought back the cage in the back shop and put it on its shelf. I fed them and gave them water.

When I had left him, the man seemed absorbed by the Edible Dark Marks, but when I turned the heels to go back in the shop, he was blocking the way. His large silhouette stood in the door frame. Unconsciously, I slipped a hand in my pocket and reached the galleon. This gesture seemed to worry him and I didn’t realize he had cast a spell until the red flash of light hit me. I flew backward, abruptly landing on the shelves behind me. I vaguely heard a concert of high-pitched screams. I froze in fear when the man stood in front of me, dominating me with his full height. He grabbed the collar of my robe and lift me as if I weighed nothing.

“I won’t hurt you if you give me the money.”

His voice was hoarse and his eyes sent me a burning glare. I wanted to answer but the fabric was strangling me and I vainly tried to get rid of his hand. Seeing I couldn’t make him release me, I tried to kick him as hard as I could, but I was getting weaker and weaker because of the lack of air.

“You’re asking for it.”

He violently dropped me on the floor and my head hit a wooden box left here.

“Give me the money, now!”

I was sure he was pointing his wand on me but the dizziness took over me and my sight was blurry. I tried to get up. The only coherent thought my poor brain could produce was that I needed to get rid of him. Until now, I had forgotten about the galleon, but my wand was nowhere to be seen and I would have been unable to cast the appropriate spell. I limped to get out of the back shop and the man pushed me toward the counter. I barely stayed up, the only thing preventing me from falling down being a shelf covered with candies. I looked at the counter, unable to process how to give him the galleons. I was roughly aware of the radiating pain in my head and I couldn’t focus on anything else. I didn’t hear the man’s repeated shouts, nor did I hear the door of the shop opening. All of sudden, the atmosphere went black and, if I hadn’t fainted at this very moment, and if my brain wasn’t so slow, I would have understood the man had used Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder to disappear.

I didn’t open my eyes right away. I heard whispering next to me, but it took me a few seconds to recognize who was talking and what they were saying. According to what I understood - which maybe wasn’t really reliable - Fred and George were debating whether they should bring me to St-Mungo’s or not.

“It won’t be necessary…” I whispered.

I wasn’t sure it had come out as I wanted, but they probably had understood because all of sudden, I felt them dangerously close to me. I finally opened my eyes to see George’s face a few inches away from mine. When my eyes met his, he sighed in relief and laid in to kiss me.

“You scared me, love…” he murmured.

Even if he didn’t say it, I knew perfectly he was feeling guilty. I knew at some point he would tell me it was his fault, he shouldn’t have left me alone, it would never happen again. I was pretty sure it was Fred’s case too. George helped me sitting and I realized I was on the couch of the small living-room. A few vials of potions were on the floor, some empty and some still unopened. I also felt something tightening my head, and by touching it, I recognized bandages.

“How do you feel?” Fred had been careful to keep his voice low in case my head was hurting.

“Okay, I guess.” I replied. I didn’t wait for them to ask me what had happened, because I knew they would soon, and I summarized the situation. “This man entered about twenty minutes before the closure. He wanted me to give him all the money we had and he threw me against the wall. I couldn’t react, I didn’t know where my wand was and I couldn’t cast a spell to warn you.”

“It’s okay, Y/N, don’t worry. He’s gone, but I swear we’ll warn everyone in the Diagon Alley and Dad will know too. We’ll find him.” said George while stroking my hair.

A sigh of contentment escaped my mouth and I snuggled closer to my boyfriend. With a relieved smile, Fred lightly ruffled my hair and announced he would make diner. A delicious smell hit my nostrils, but all curled up in George’s arms and tired of my long day, I had fallen asleep too deeply. The diner would have to wait.

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #george weasley #george x reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you

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ego-driven-one-wing-angel · 4 years

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FF VII - Tseng Headcanons | #1

A/N: No one asked for this, (at least I don’t think anyone did?) But I was in the mood to write some fluffy Tseng so I hope you don’t mind!!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Tseng isn’t much for affection, but he does shows his appreciation in a number of ways only he’d think of. Sometimes it’s in the form of complimenting you either by intelligence or physical means (I.e. “you’re very beautiful today,” or “That’s an intelligent observation y/n.”, helping you out of sticky situations, helping you get back on your feet after financial trouble. It’s all professional in a sense, but that’s just who Tseng is in general

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Tseng’s friendships are all built up from colleagues, so you’d most likely would have worked with him to get a bit closer to him as a person. As a friend, he’s usually your more honest, straight-to-the-point man who will tell you as it is. He’ll give the best advice, and someone you could always count on in times of need.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Not much of a cuddly guy. In fact, the first time he’s ever experienced cuddling was when he was with you, how you nestled into the crook of his neck, eyes shut as the room went silent. He’ll be unnerved about the whole deal, but he won’t push you off. He’ll just let you sleep in his arms until you wake, but he’ll be a bit awkward through your nap. Since he would have no idea where to place his hands without waking you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Tseng is all business. He’s not planning on settling down. If he somehow ends up in a relationship with you, the plans for a family, children, the whole-white picket fence idea is still just as slim.

When it comes to cooking, he’s more of the bland-type cooks. He doesn’t put his heart and soul into it like many others, so food just ends up being subsistence to stay alive, that’s it. Many of his meals are simple and easy, and he won’t make dinner a huge deal.

However, when it comes to cleaning, this guy is your man. Not obsessive about it, but he’ll make sure everything is neat and orderly. The type to have his linens pressed every day, to make sure every pen has a spot on his desk, drawers organized unlike you’ve ever seen. Being clean and orderly is part of his job, so his apartment will look better than a five-star hotel.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would be straight to the point about it. Discuss issues the two of you have been having, going over why. He’s not going to give you nonsense to worry about and have an emotional turmoil over it. If it’s time for a break up, he’ll be the one to give out the news with a quick fashion.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Tseng is committed in the job, not relationships. There’s a hard chance he’s going to propose, even slimmer? A big marriage. If you happen to capture his heart, he’ll probably request the wedding to be small, perhaps elope just to keep it out of the public’s eye. He’s personal and private, and making huge deals out of something he doesn’t fully understand is a no-go.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s a gentle guy when he wants to be. Emotionally more so. He’ll try to understand your side of things, getting a full picture on all your problems and concerns and even opinions on his own matters. It’s not a normal occurrence when he opens up about anything, so when he does, enjoy it while it lasts. It won’t happen for a while.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hugs? He won’t do it. But if you happen to grab him long enough to get a hug, he won’t push you off necessarily, but he’ll be awkward when you part. Maybe a light red would dust his cheeks, but he’ll try to regain his composure as he’s walking away.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Tseng probably could go his whole life without saying the word “love”. He’s the type of person to say it either too late, or not at all.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Tseng rarely gets jealous, if at all. He’s understanding in that sense, and won’t allow himself to let his emotions hinder him in any way negative if he can help it.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are usually soft, and careful. He lacks experience in that department, so he relied heavily on you to lead the way. But his favorite? He won’t admit it, with his persona and all, but he tends to love when you give him a simple peck on the cheek. Sometimes in public, his ears will warm up to a crimson, and he’ll straighten out his tie as if the peck wasn’t worth anything, but later on, he’ll place his fingers where your lips met, and the sweetest memory will cause his lips to curve just a little.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Tseng is pretty straight-forward when it comes to the smaller humans, he tries not to be awkward, but he tends to not understand children as well as he should. He treats them much like adults, which sometimes works in his favor as the children will come and have their questions answered without fluff and lies embedded in them.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Tseng is up bright an early, adjusting the cuffs on his sleeves, inspecting his appearance, making sure it’s overall well done and tidy. Followed by a quick breakfast and finally one last check with his suit before he leaves. It’s usually fast paced, and it follows a very strict routine (one he’s had since he started working), so have fun waking up by his alarm every morning at five am.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are much different. Usually it’s time to wind down and relax from the stress of Shinra when he returns. He still maintains his usual stoic and professional manner, cleaning, setting out his suits to be taken to the cleaners, prepare for the next morning to repeat the process all over again. But when it’s all said and done, he’ll sit on his love seat to relish in the day, and you’re free to sit next to him. Fitting yourself right in the crook of his neck as you take a moment to rest. (Again, cue awkward cuddling questions)

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Tseng will be the type to reveal things through actions slowly. The little things like how he organizes his desk, how he writes in silence when you pop into his office for a quick surprise, the barely noticeable smile when you make him dinner or give him a snack he hadn’t ask for. He’s not an open person, so to understand how he works requires the utmost dedication on noticing small details.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Anger is sparse. Cool, calm and collected is his mode of operation.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Tseng has the sharpest memory in the Turks. He’ll remember every important detail about you whether you tell him or not. Reading people is his forte, so he’ll notice the tiniest things before you even do. Like how you take your tea/coffee, what your favorite pajamas are to wear to bed, the particular brush you use for your hair. He’s just as interested in you as you are him.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite memories of you would have to be the most simplistic ones. The times where it’s peaceful like having a dinner with just the two of you, or taking a nap together on the couch/bed. It’s some of the most mundane moments, but some of his favorite to remember through the turmoil he experiences every day.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Tseng doesn’t believe in being protected. He’s the shield if it ever comes down to it. Have you seen how protective he is with Rufus Shinra? Same things apply to you. He wouldn’t dare let a fly hurt you, and if someone happens to come after you, Tseng would be a formidable opponent indeed.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Everyday tasks are done in order under a schedule. It’s hard to be pulled out of routine when he’s done it so long, so he most likely won’t stop unless he has to. Other things such as anniversaries, gifts, important dates? He’ll remember them, written neatly in his calendar, but he won’t make the biggest of deals about them.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Previously, I mentioned his mind is on par with remembering everything, but only if he puts it on his calendar. If he doesn’t write it down somewhere, this poor boy will literally forget the next day.

When you’re trying to sleep, he has to check his alarm has been set, two, three, five times. The glare of his cellphone as he makes sure the alarm has been set.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Tseng prefers things polished and pressed. From his suit, tie, hair, skin, everything is cleaned and prepped prior to leaving for work. It’s not that he wants to be conveniently attractive, it’s just a part of his job.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

If you were with him for a long time, yes. If it was only for a few years, he’d be upset over it, but he wouldn’t cry nor grieve properly. It’s a part of the job, he says.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Tseng gives off health-nut vibes somewhat. He’s not incredibly obsessed, but he tends to choose things that are healthy and keeps his body well.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In general, messes. If there’s a way to get him irritated and unnerved, messy areas will do the trick. ESPECIALLY in his home.

In partners? He’s not a fan of those who are overly confident, especially if they don’t have the means to prove it.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Unbeknownst to most, he’s restless. Moving constantly at night all hours. Having to even go as far as moving to the couch or bench to try and sleep there. A few hours later he’ll move back to the bed, but he despises the idea he can’t get a normal night’s rest.

TAGS:@watermeloncavill @moonlighttreetops

#Final Fantasy #final fantasy vii #Final Fantasy 7 #final fantasy tseng #tseng #turks #headcanons #headcannons #imagines

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adenei · 3 years

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Auror 99 - Chapter 5

In case you missed any of the previous chapters, you can find the whole story (thus far) here

Thanks for reading!

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The Duel

Several days had passed with no new leads. Amy and Hermione continued poring over the case files with Jake and Ron, while Boyle and Harry staked out the banks. No luck was had all around. They’d all take turns switching with Rosa, who was still mainly manning surveillance. Whoever Gerteso was, he was a master of disguise.

They were on a late shift about a week into the case, when Rosa caught something on the monitor. “Jake! Come see this,” Rosa said. Jake walked over with Ron not far behind him. “There’s some strange activity going on outside of this oddity shop - McLeod’s. The guy who just walked in seems to match the description of Gerteso. It’s in Manhattan, but might be worth checking out?”

“If we leave now, we can make it over there in 20 minutes. C’mon Nolan, let’s go!” Jake said as they ran out.

Hermione looked at Amy. “What are the chances he’ll stay in the store that long?”

Amy shook her head. “Slim to none.”

“I’ll be right back,” Hermione said. She had an idea, but it required magic, so she had to move alone. Harry gave her a look. “Just need to make a phone call,” she reassured him.

Hermione made her way to the bathroom and pulled out her cell phone she’d purchased a few days ago. The one muggle item the Ministry failed to provide. She pulled up the address to McLeod’s on her phone, and just before she was about to apparate, the door opened. Harry walked in.

“Here, take this,” he handed her the invisibility cloak. “If my suspicions about what you’re doing are correct, you’ll need it.”

“Thanks, Harry. Hopefully I won’t be long.” She pulled the cloak over herself and apparated to the nearest alleyway. She moved quickly around to find a back entrance to the store. Luckily there was one, and the door was propped open. She slipped inside and made her way to the front of the store, careful to remain silent the entire time.

“...I know he comes here and you do business with him. Now, I suggest you tell me the next time he’s going to show up.” Yes, that was definitely Gerteso, his wand pointed at the shopkeeper.

“T-tonight. H-he always comes Fridays. At night after the shop’s closed. He meets me in the alleyway next door.”

“That’s what I thought. So here’s what you’re going to do. You’ll contact him, or whatever you do before your meetups, tell him tonight is on, but you’re not going to show up. If you even so much as hint that I’m the one meeting him, you’ll be dead faster than you can blink. Understood?” The shopkeeper nodded in a terrified manner. “Tell him 9:00. And he better be punctual. If it’s earlier or later than your normal meetup, tell him you’ve got something planned and he needs to make it work.”

Hermione watched Gerteso look around the store and then walk out. She turned around swiftly and snuck out the back. After apparating back into the bathroom of the precinct, she pulled out her phone again, and quickly sent Ron a text giving him the heads up that he’d be back at 9, so they should prepare for a stakeout until then. Looking around, Hermione made sure she was alone before pulling off the cloak.

When she walked out and back into the hall her phone rang. “Hey.”

“Hey, how’d you know?”

“That’s not important. Just trust me, okay? I’m going to tell everyone here that you guys are gonna hang out there for a while on the off chance he comes back, which he will. There’s no suspicion?”

“I don’t think so. I’m glad we finally have a lead. I’ll figure something out. I’ll probably just meet you back at the flat, depending on how late we are.”

��Sounds good,” Hermione said. “Stay safe.”

“You too,” she heard Ron say before she clicked off the phone. That was their way of saying ‘I love you’ right now. Hermione took a deep breath before heading back to the rest of the group.

********************

Ron and Jake were in the same undercover squad car, parked on a side street, just outside of McLeod’s Bargain Store and Curiosity Shop. Ron had told Jake that when Rosa doubled back on the security footage, she noticed that the security cameras had caught Gerteso lurking around this time every night, so they’d decided to wait and see who or what he was waiting for. They still had a while before he’d make his nightly appearance.

Jake was looking at the picture they’d brought of him again. “He’s a weird looking dude, isn’t he?”

Ron looked at the paper. To be honest, he hadn’t thought much of it. In the magical world, they came across all different sorts of creatures and beings so it hadn’t phased him before. But now, looking closely at the picture, Jake was right. His facial features were strong and jagged, accentuated by a thick beard that was trimmed neatly, and a long mane of dark, dark brown hair. His eyes were a golden brown, which added to his mysterious demeanor. His face was rather pale, which didn’t exactly fit the rest of his features.

Gerteso oddly reminded Ron of Rufus Scrimgeour, a name he hadn’t thought about since the war ended. He made a mental note to ask Harry and Hermione if Gerteso could possibly be a vampire. The chances were slim since Voldemort had exterminated the lot of them in the war, but they had so few details on the case, and they were already a week in, that Ron figured any little suspicion could help.

“Yeah, he is,” Ron finally answered Jake.

“What’s going on with you? You’re quieter than normal tonight,” Jake commented.

“Just thinking, that’s all,” Ron said quickly. He wished he could talk about the details with Jake, he really did. The whole statute of secrecy thing was really starting to piss him off. They had four strong detectives, two aurors, and Hermione’s brilliance on the case, but because they couldn’t disclose who they truly were, movement was slow going.

“You miss her, don’t you?” Jake asked.

“Who?”

“Hadley? Your wife?” Jake clarified.

“Oh, yeah, I do. The whole no-contact thing is really the hardest,” Ron lied. He and Jake had talked a bit about his personal life before, and Ron had made up a different name for Hermione because it was so unique that he didn’t want to raise any suspicion. Not that they were even known about in the muggle world. But better to be safe than sorry.

“I guess that’s the one good thing about single life. No one would miss me if something happened. Y’know? I don’t have to worry about my reckless lifestyle affecting anyone else but me. I’m the lone ranger in this sad, crazy world!” Jake tried to play it off as cool, but Ron thought there was something more to it than that. Before he could ask, he noticed someone appear across the street.

“Jake, look!” Ron said, pointing to the figure.

“Do you think that’s him?” Jake asked.

“Yeah, I reckon so. He’s headed for that alley. We should follow so we don’t lose sight of him.” Ron said. They opened their doors and shut them quietly.

Jake and Ron quickly crossed the street and stopped just before the alleyway. Jake looked around the corner and noticed that Gerteso was there with another figure.

“There’s a dumpster further down that we can hide behind. He’s down there with another person, Jake whispered. They moved down the alley and stopped for cover behind the dumpster.

They watched as something was exchanged between them and Ron was studying the other person. He stealthily grabbed his wand and cast a silent identity charm so he could take back the visual of the person to see if they could figure out who he was.

Suddenly the other person vanished and Jake grabbed Ron’s arm. “What the hell was that?! Where’d he go!?” They saw Gerteso turn and begin walking back towards them, and before Ron could stop Jake from engaging him, Jake jumped out from behind the dumpster with his gun held out. “NYPD! Freeze!”

“Fuck,” Ron said under his breath as he saw Gerteso raise his wand. He held his own at the ready as he joined Jake quickly in the alleyway. “Protego!” he shouted as he saw Gerteso wave his wand. Luckily he’d cast it in time to deflect a curse from hitting Jake.

“Uh, Nolan? What the fuck is happening right now? Is that a wand? What’s going on? I’m not freaking out. I’m not!” Jake was normally fine under pressure, but this, this was unreal. He had to be dreaming.

“Impedimenta!” Ron shouted. It just missed him as another spell was shot his way. Ron blocked that one again as he yelled “stupefy!” Whoever Gerteso was, he seemed to be moving really quickly, able to dodge everything Ron was throwing at him. He wasn’t using any defensive charms and kept sending jinx after jinx their way.

“Jake, get back behind the dumpster!” Ron said to him as he continued fighting Gerteso. As he shot an incarcerous at him, Ron saw a flash of light shoot out from Gerteso’s wand, but it wasn’t aimed at Ron. Before Ron had time to react, it hit Jake in the leg.

Jake yelled out in pain as Ron turned to see his leg on fire. “Aguamenti!” Ron said, quickly extinguishing the flame. “Shit, Jake!” Ron’s distraction was all Gerteso needed as Ron heard a faint pop and he was gone.

“W-where’d he go? He was just right there. What just happened?”

“Don’t worry about that right now, let me see your leg.” Ron examined it and realized Gerteso had shot out some sort of cursed fire. He’d never seen it before but it looked like it was a lower level of fiendfyre that was obviously much more controlled. Ron placed a freezing and numbing charm on Jake’s leg. “We’ve got to get you back to our flat,” Ron said. “Charlotte will know what to do.”

“What about a hospital?” Jake asked.

“We can’t take you to a hospital for this. It should be treatable at home. Don’t worry, I’ve already stopped the pain for now. Look, Jake I really can’t explain what this was about, and I’m really sorry that I have to do this…” Ron held up his wand and cast ‘obliviate.’ He watched Jake’s eyes go fuzzy and then refocus again.

“What happened? Did he get away? He was just right there!”

“Yeah, mate, he struck a match and caught your leg on fire, and took off. I was able to put it out, but we’ve gotta get you back to heal it. Do you think you can drive? You don’t want me driving, that’s for sure. Opposite side of the road and all...”

“Uh, yeah, I think so. Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“Er, I had some of this special numbing cream to put on it. British specialty.” Ron really hated lying to Jake. “It should hold until we get back to my place. Hold on while I call Amy and Charlotte.” Ron was thinking quickly. There were totally gaps in his story, but he had to roll with it. And Jake was still sort of loopy enough from the obliviation that he was buying it.

Ron dialed Amy since it was the first contact in his phone. He still wasn’t sure how to work the damn thing properly.

“Hey Nolan, what’s up?” he heard Amy answer.

“Uh, Amy, we had an incident. Can you meet us at our flat?”

“Is everything okay? Nolan, what happened?” Amy said worriedly.

“I can’t tell you right now. Just meet us back at the flat.” Ron hung up the phone. He helped Jake get up and got him back to the car. Thankfully it was his left leg that was injured, so he was still able to drive.

“What did Amy say?” Jake tried to ask casually.

“She asked what happened. Sounded pretty worried,” Ron responded. “They’re going to meet us at the flat.”

“Oh, good. Yeah, that’s cool,” Jake played it off.

“You like her, don’t you?” Ron smirked at him.

“What? No, of course not! We’re work partners,” Jake defended.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t fancy her,” Ron said. “I’m gonna give you some advice. Just go for it, mate. I waited seven years, and somehow I was lucky enough to still get her. A girl like Amy reminds me of my own. They’re too good to wait around, so don’t wait forever.”

Jake looked at him. “You waited seven years to make a move?”

“Yeah, but thankfully she’d always felt the same way. The way you and Amy banter back and forth, reminds me of me and her way back.”

Jake spluttered a bit and made some noncommittal sounds. It seemed like it took ages to get back to their flat, but when they arrived, they saw Amy, Boyle, Harry and Hermione waiting for them. Charles and Harry helped Ron get Jake out of the car and up to their apartment. They laid Jake down on the couch and Hermione gave Ron a serious look.

“Jake. Jake! It’s gonna be okay, buddy. You’re gonna live. You have to live! The world’s not ready for you to leave it,” Boyle was lamenting overdramatically.

“What happened?” Amy asked, cutting him off. “Did you catch Gerteso?”

“Well, Gerteso met up with someone else,” Ron said, “They finished whatever exchange was made and he went to leave, but we tried to stop him. He put up a fight, and ended up striking a match and tossing it at Jake, hence the burn. He took off when I went to help Jake.”

“Nolan, why does the burn look so odd,” Amy said. “And how is it not hurting him?”

“I put numbing cream on it. I’ve got another British burn salve that should help. I just need to go grab it. Charlotte, could you check your bag for it? I can’t remember which bag it was in. Jason, could you search your stuff, too? We left so quickly last week I don’t remember who packed what.” Ron nodded towards Hermione who followed them into the room.

Hermione shut the door. “What happened?” she hissed.

“Yeah, mate,” Harry said. “He doesn’t look good.”

Ron was searching for the dittany. That should do enough to heal it without Jake needing additional medical assistance. Ron pulled out his wand and cast muffliato on the door. “Jake jumped out at him when the other guy disapparated. I had to step in and duel him. Hermione, he moves really fast. He wasn’t even using defensive spells. And I think he used some form of adapted fiendfyre that was much more controlled than what we’ve encountered. It’s definitely cursed fire that Jake got hit with. It’s going to heal, but the scar is going to be awful. The dittany will help.”

“Ron! You could have-”

“I’m fine, Hermione. This is what I do. I’m an Auror. Jake’s already been obliviated, too. Now, here, take this, and figure out who it is,” Ron used his wand to draw up the charm he’d cast earlier of the other suspect. “If we can figure out who this is, maybe we can figure out what Gerteso’s after. Boyle and Harry can stop stalking the bank and tail him when we figure it out.”

Hermione sighed, “Alright, but you know I can’t take care of it until they leave.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ron said. “Let’s get back out there, the sooner we get this dittany on him, the better. Can you distract them while I apply it? Then we’ll see if Charles or Amy can stay with him tonight.”

They went back out and Ron was able to place the dittany on Jake’s leg, thanks to Harry and Hermione pulling Amy and Charles aside. “You should be good, aside from a nasty scar, but at least we don’t need to go to the hospital. Charles, Amy, can one of you stay with him tonight?” Ron asked.

“Of course! Anything for Jake,” Charles said quickly. Ron noticed the slight disappointment look on Amy’s face when Charles beat her to it.

“Uh, Charles,” Hermione cut in, “maybe you could take this back to the precinct to get an ID on the second person? I’m sure Amy can take Jake home and stay with him. You could relieve her later?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Charles said, taking the paper that Hermione had no doubt materialized for him. “As long as Amy’s okay with that?”

“What? Oh, y-yeah, I guess I can for a few hours tonight. But I’ll need your help getting him there if he can’t walk.” Amy looked gratefully at Hermione, although a little surprised at her suggestion. “We’ll see you all at the precinct tomorrow? We should probably at least debrief for a couple hours. I’m sure Holt will be fine with the overtime.”

Harry nodded. “That should work. Let’s get some rest for now, though. We’ve all put in more than enough hours today.”

Everyone nodded in agreement as they helped Jake up and saw them out. They had so much to discuss, but they had to wait until they were sure the detectives were gone. This case just kept getting weirder and weirder.

#hp/b99 crossover #hp fanfic #hp trio #b99

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sciencespies · 3 years

Text

The chilling story of the 'demon core' and the scientists who became its victims

https://sciencespies.com/humans/the-chilling-story-of-the-demon-core-and-the-scientists-who-became-its-victims/

The chilling story of the 'demon core' and the scientists who became its victims

It was August 13, 1945, and the ‘demon core’ was poised, waiting to be unleashed onto a stunned Japan still reeling in fresh chaos from the deadliest attacks anyone had ever seen.

A week earlier, ‘Little Boy’ had detonated over Hiroshima, followed swiftly by ‘Fat Man’ in Nagasaki.

These were the first and only nuclear bombs ever used in warfare, claiming as many as 200,000 lives – and if things had turned out a little differently, a third deadly strike would have followed in their hellish wake.

But history had other plans.

After Nagasaki proved Hiroshima was no fluke, Japan promptly surrendered on August 15, with Japanese radio broadcasting a recorded speech of Emperor Hirohito conceding to the Allies’ demands.

Recreation of 1945 accident. (Los Alamos National Laboratory)

As it turns out, this was the first time the Japanese public at large had ever heard one of their emperors’ voices, but for scientists at the Los Alamos Laboratory in New Mexico – aka Project Y – the event had a more pressing significance.

It meant the functional heart of the third atom bomb they’d been working on – a 6.2-kilogram (13.7-pound) sphere of refined plutonium and gallium – wouldn’t be needed for the war effort after all.

If the conflict had still been raging, as it had for almost five straight years, this plutonium core would have been fitted into a second Fat Man assembly and detonated above another unsuspecting Japanese city just four days later.

As it was, fate issued those souls a reprieve, and the Los Alamos device – code-named ‘Rufus’ at this point – would be retained at the facility for further testing.

It was during these tests that the leftover nuke, which ultimately became known as the demon core, earned that name.

Daghlian’s burnt, blistered hand. (Los Alamos National Laboratory)

The first accident happened less than a week after Japan’s surrender, and only two days after the date of the demon core’s cancelled bombing run.

That mission may have never launched, but the demon core, stranded at Los Alamos, still found an opportunity to kill.

The Los Alamos scientists knew well the risks of what they were doing when they conducted criticality experiments with it – a means of measuring the threshold at which the plutonium would become supercritical, the point where a nuclear chain reaction would unleash a blast of deadly radiation.

The trick performed by scientists in the Manhattan Project – of which the Los Alamos Lab was a part – was finding how just how far you could go before that dangerous reaction was triggered.

They even had an informal nickname for the high-risk experiments, one which hinted at the perils of what they did. They called it “tickling the dragon’s tail”, knowing that if they had the misfortune to rouse the angry beast, they would be burned.

Louis Slotin, left, with the first nuclear bomb assembly, Gadget (Los Alamos National Laboratory)

And that’s exactly what happened to Los Alamos physicist Harry Daghlian.

On the night of August 21, 1945, Daghlian returned to the lab after dinner, to tickle the dragon’s tail alone – with no other scientists (just a security guard) around, which was a breach of safety protocols.

As Daghlian worked, he surrounded the plutonium sphere with bricks made of tungsten carbide, which reflected neutrons shed by the core back at it, edging it closer to criticality.

Brick by brick, Daghlian built up these reflective walls around the core, until his neutron-monitoring equipment indicated the plutonium was about to go supercritical if he placed any more.

He moved to pull one of the bricks away, but in doing so accidentally dropped it directly onto the top of the sphere, inducing supercriticality and generating a glow of blue light and a wave of heat.

Recreation of 1946 accident. (Los Alamos National Laboratory)

Daghlian reached out immediately and removed the brick, noticing a tingling sensation in his hand as he did so.

Unfortunately, it was already too late.

In that brief instant, he had received a lethal dose of radiation. His burnt, irradiated hand blistered over, and he eventually fell into a coma after weeks of nausea and pain.

He was dead just 25 days after the accident. The security guard on duty also received a non-lethal dose of radiation.

But the demon core was not yet finished.

Despite a review of safety procedures after Daghlian’s death, any changes made weren’t enough to prevent a similar accident occurring the following year.

Recreation of 1946 accident. (Los Alamos National Laboratory)

On May 21, 1946, one of Daghlian’s colleagues, physicist Louis Slotin, was demonstrating a similar criticality experiment, lowering a beryllium dome over the core.

Like the tungsten carbide bricks before it, the beryllium dome reflected neutrons back at the core, pushing it toward criticality. Slotin was careful to ensure the dome – called a tamper – never completely covered the core, using a screwdriver to maintain a small gap, acting as a crucial valve to enable enough of the neutrons to escape.

The method worked, until it didn’t.

The screwdriver slipped and the dome dropped, for an instant fully covering the demon core in a beryllium bubble bouncing too many neutrons back at it.

Another scientist in the room, Raemer Schreiber, turned around at the sound of the dome dropping, feeling heat and seeing a blue flash as the demon core went supercritical for the second time in the space of a year.

Diagram of 1946 accident. (Los Alamos National Laboratory)

“The blue flash was clearly visible in the room although it (the room) was well illuminated from the windows and possibly the overhead lights,” Schreiber later wrote in a report.

“The total duration of the flash could not have been more than a few tenths of a second. Slotin reacted very quickly in flipping the tamper piece off.”

Slotin may have been quick in rectifying his deadly mistake, but again, the damage was already done.

He, and seven others in the room – including a photographer and a security guard – were all exposed to a burst of radiation, although Slotin was the only one to receive a lethal dose, and a greater one than that inflicted on Daghlian.

After an initial bout of nausea and vomiting, he at first seemed to recover in hospital, but within days was losing weight, experiencing abdominal pain, and began showing signs of mental confusion.

Operation Crossroads. (US Department of Defence)

A press release issued by Los Alamos at the time described his condition as “three-dimensional sunburn”.

Nine days after the screwdriver slipped, he was gone.

The two deadly accidents, only months apart, finally saw real changes take place at Los Alamos.

New protocols meant an end to ‘hands on’ criticality experiments, with scientists forced to use remote control machinery to manipulate radioactive cores at a distance of hundreds of metres.

They also stopped calling the plutonium core ‘Rufus’. From then on, it was known only as the ‘demon core’.

But after everything that had happened, the leftover nuke’s time was up too.

Following the Slotin accident – and the core’s resultant increase in radiation levels – plans to use it in Operation Crossroads, the first post-war nuclear explosion demonstrations to commence at the Bikini Atoll a month later, were shelved.

Instead, the plutonium was melted down and reintegrated into the US nuclear stockpile, to be recast into other cores as necessary. For the second and last time, the demon core was denied its detonation.

While the deaths of two scientists can’t be compared to the untold horrors if the demon core had been used in a third nuclear attack against Japan, it’s also easy to understand why the scientists gave it the superstitious name they did.

Then there are the weird details that fill in the backdrop of the story.

Like how Daghlian and Slotin weren’t just killed by similar accidents involving the same plutonium core: both incidents took place on Tuesdays, on the 21st day of the month, and the men even passed away in the same hospital room.

Of course, those are just coincidences. The demon core wasn’t actually demonic. If there’s an evil presence here, it’s not the core, but the fact that humans rushed to make these terrible weapons in the first place.

And the real horror – besides the horrible effects of radiation poisoning – is how spectacularly mid–20th century scientists failed to protect themselves from the extreme dangers they were toying with, despite fully knowing the grave risks in their midst.

According to Schreiber, Slotin’s first words immediately after the screwdriver incident were simple, and already resigned.

He had comforted his dying friend Daghlian in hospital, and he knew what came next.

“Well,” he said, “that does it.”

A version of this story was first published in April 2018.

#Humans

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azure-steel · 3 years

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Plotted starter for @wrxckfear

Getting into the ShinRa complex was a little too easy, easy enough for it to be a concern. Fair enough Cloud had done this before, but one could possibly figure the president would have upped the ante in regards to the security detail. Not that it really mattered, any ease of access was a bonus even if he did have to scale the buildings fire escapes and many precarious edges to get to his designated window.

In all honesty, Cloud wasn’t a hundred percent sure exactly what he was looking for, just a room on the very top floor (The presidential suite of course, because breaking into the tower wasn’t risky all in itself...) containing precious floor plans for neighbouring reactors. With the instruction to just grab what he could and “get the hell out of there,” that is exactly what he planned to do.

The window was easy enough to pop, leading into a bathroom shrouded in darkness, the lights didn’t flicker on until Cloud shimmied his way onto the tiles and made his way into the hall. Cautiously he scans both directions of the walkway from his position in the bathrooms threshold, so far so good. The door he needed to get to was only three rooms left of his current position, the presidents office nestled in the opposite direction. It was late, the perfect time for an infiltration mission, so in his mind Rufus Shinra might not even be on site at such an ungodly hour. Entitled pretty boys needed their beauty sleep after all, right?

Avoiding the cameras positioned overhead was easy enough, and Cloud managed to sneak by them once he’d determined where their blind spots would be, until he reached his destination; a vaulted door labelled CLASSIFIED - AUTHORISED ACCESS ONLY. Of course the locking mechanism required either a key-card or a manually inputted access code to open, neither of which the mercenary had on his person. But what he did have was a nifty little device designed to scramble the inner workings of such mechanisms, and he wasted little time activating the thumb sized gadget and sticking it to the lock, waiting for the painstaking five seconds it took for the device to work its magic.

It was during those moments that Cloud, once again, considers just how flawlessly this plan is unfolding. Everything was simply... too easy, and the notion in itself sets the blond on edge. Cloud knew from experience that if something is a just a little too good to be true, it usually was, it was all just a matter of time until something went sideways, and needless to say, unbeknownst to him right at this moment, it wouldn’t be long until he was proven right.

Once inside, and faced with rows upon rows of filing cabinets, he begins his search. But not two minutes into attempting to find the information he’s been sent here to retrieve is the room suddenly bathed in a garish red light accompanied soon after by the deafening blare of a siren very close by. So loud was it that Cloud winces and is forced to cover his ears.

“Shit... time to go.”

He’d been discovered it seems, and with little to no time to waste until the floor was no doubt swarming with security personnel, Cloud merely opens the cabinet drawer closest to him, grabs what he can and makes his way back into the hallway, and a strange darkness...

It was then he realises... the tower was going into lockdown, he needed to get out of here fast!

#wrxckfear #cut for length because I have no impulse control #I hope you can work with this!!#let me know if I need to change anything~

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tardistimes · 4 years

Text

Scars of Time

Timeless (Teen and Up Audiences)

OC/Flynn, Wyatt Logan/Logan Preston, Rufus Carlin/Jiya

Summary: If history is to change, let it change. If the world is to be destroyed, so be it. No era is safe and there doesn't seem to be much of a future to look forward to unless the wrongs are righted.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15048743/chapters/34886531

I’m sharing my Zealprophet27′s Timeless fic as they don’t have a Tumblr account and they’re such an amazing writer!

Excerpt:

Agent Christopher stood at the bottom of the steps, waiting as the door to the Lifeboat opened and the four man crew began to emerge. Lucy was the first one out. Christopher met her tired brown eyes and asked, "What happened? Did you stop Rittenhouse?"

Lucy clutched her dirty skirts as she carefully descended the steps. Her shoes were caked in mud. "Short answer? Yes." She dropped her grimy hem back to the floor, straightening out her skirt as she stepped aside, granting Rufus access to the floor where he quickly ran off to get an office chair with wheels.

Christopher furrowed her brows as she watched Rufus moving with purpose. She questioned, "And the long answer?"

Lucy was about to speak when a voice groaned above them at the hatch to the Lifeboat. "It's complicated."

Christopher lifted her gaze to the Lifeboat. Wyatt stood up with Flynn's left arm tossed over his shoulders. Flynn's right hand was holding his side. There was a dark red stain seeping through his blue shirt under his navy jacket. "What the hell happened?"

Wyatt and Flynn carefully climbed down the stairs. Once they reached the bottom, Flynn sighed heavily, grimacing in pain as he slumped into the office chair that Rufus had wheeled over. Wyatt stated, "We ran into a couple of problems."

"Such as?" Christopher pushed, staring at Flynn to see if he was in serious need of medical care or if it was a graze.

"There were three sleepers there," Flynn groaned. "Turns out there's a reason they don't teach kids about Sarah Tarrant."

"Why is that?" she asked, looking between the four members of the team, clearly confused.

Rufus chimed in before anyone had a chance to properly respond, "She's a bitch."

Wyatt quickly interjected before Agent Christopher could retort, "She was very determined to start the Revolutionary War right then and there. Had we not managed to shut her up, it might just have started."

Rufus added, "The things she said, I thought she was the sleeper."

Christopher looked to Lucy for a simpler answer. Instead of delving into the history of the woman who almost jump started the Revolutionary War by running her hot tempered mouth, Lucy took this moment to state what was already on Christopher's mind. "We're going to need a doctor for Flynn. It's pretty bad."

Flynn shifted in his chair. "I told you, I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Lucy retorted. "You lost a lot a blood."

Flynn tried to wave it off, but everyone could see the color fading from his face before he passed out, crashing hard to the floor.

"I'll get someone here immediately," Christopher stated. "I know just who to ask."

Agent Christopher sat in her parked car just outside the hospital. She studied the folder in her lap. It was the file of Dr. Tenley Levinson. It was a full background check and history on the woman. Included with all of the doctor's information was a photo of the young woman. Denise studied the girl's features, just on the off-chance she'd run into her in the hallways.

The doctor's photo showed a woman in her thirties, dark eyes, light brown hair, and fair skinned. Reading over the notes made about the girl's height, she was tall, above average for a woman. As Denise looked at the photo, she could see a familiar sadness within the girl's brown eyes. There was no mention in the file as to why she would have that kind of sadness, but she knew better than to pry, should she find the doctor. She closed the file and dumped it into the center console as she climbed out and headed towards the entrance of the hospital.

The sliding glass doors to the hospital opened just as Denise Christopher stepped up to them. She knew where she would find her doctor of choice and headed towards the OR suites. One of the things that she loved about hospitals was how no one asked you if you needed help finding someone. She was able to navigate through without once having to stop to talk to someone.

As she neared the double doors to the Operating wing, a couple of security guards had raised their hands at her approach. The tall black man on her right asked, "Can I help you?"

Without batting an eye, she had removed her badge from within her inside coat pocket, showing them the credentials she had worked so hard to achieve. "I'm Agent Christopher with Homeland Security. I'm here to see Dr. Levinson."

The two security guards exchanged looks. "What's Levy done?"

"Doesn't concern you," Christopher stated. "Which way?"

They stepped aside and the tall man pointed down the hall. "OR 3."

She nodded her thanks and headed down the hall towards the correct suite. When she arrived to the double doors, she peered through the window. The doctors were operating on someone so she waited until they were finished with their surgery. She wasn't going to barge in, contaminate the surgery, risk the patient's life, and have a lawsuit on her hands. She needed to be patient, which was something she prided herself on being.

It wasn't a long wait - ten minutes - before the double doors opened and some of the nurses were wheeling the patient out of the operating suite and into Recovery.

Christopher watched as a group of doctors exited the suite and started to disperse. She approached them, recognizing the doctor she was after within the group. "Dr. Levinson?"

Three of the four doctors turned to face a young woman whose brown eyes were staring wide at Denise. "Yes?"

She raised her badge again, showing the spectacle that hadn't left who she was. "I'm Agent Christopher with Homeland Security. I have some questions to ask you."

"You a terrorist now, Levy?" one of the male doctors jested.

The other male doctor snorted. "That would explain so much!"

Dr. Levinson turned to the group of doctors who were still gawking at the scene before them. She nodded, turning her attention back to Christopher. "Of course." She motioned down the hall and started walking next to Denise as they left the others speechless in the hallway. "What can I do for you, Agent Christopher?"

When they were out of earshot of anyone else, Denise stopped them. "I need your help."

"My help?" the young woman asked, seemingly shocked. "With what?"

Denise stated, "I can't tell you the details unless you agree to come with me." She glanced up and down the hallway out of the corner of her dark eyes before speaking in a hushed tone. "You wouldn't be coming back here if you choose to come with me."

"Why me?" Levinson asked. She didn't care about not returning to this place of employment. No one took her seriously and she had been looking for other jobs secretly anyways.

"I needed the best," Christopher stated. "You graduated the top 3% of your class-"

Levinson laughed, shaking her head. She had connected the dots quicker than Denise thought she would. "You mean that you needed someone who was good at what they do, but also didn't have family or friends who'd suddenly question their sudden disappearance?"

Denise fought back a smile. She already liked this kid; she was quick to pick up the subtleties. She nodded. "It's a critical situation, one that needs the highest clearance. It's a chance to change the world - make a difference."

The young doctor didn't blink. "Where do I sign?"

Denise seemed taken aback at the quick willingness this kid had. There weren't any questions or fighting back on how she didn't want to disappear. "That's it?"

The girl licked her lips, tilting her head slightly to her left side. "I'm assuming that you came looking for me to pitch this crazy idea because someone in your unit needs medical attention, right?" When Denise nodded, the girl added, "Then we're wasting precious time. Let me grab my things and I'll come with you." As they started to head down the hall, the doctor added, "You can fill me in when we're out of here."

Agent Christopher waited patiently outside the hospital sliding doors for Dr. Levinson. As she waited, she thought over the woman's profile, trying to understand why she was so willing to uproot her life and disappear without so much as a fight.

What she could remember about the woman's profile was that she was the youngest child of three. Her parents weren't rich, nor were they living on welfare; they were living a pseudo-comfortable life. Her older brother was barely making ends meet, her older sister was married with five kids. Dr. Levinson had no romantic connections noted in her profile, and by how quickly she had agreed to sign up with Christopher, it told her that there wasn't anyone or it was a freshly terminated relationship.

Dr. Levinson had been accepted into Pre-Med before she had graduated from High School, and was in Med School within half the time it took other normal classmates to finish Pre-Med. She was gifted. Levinson missed being in the top 1% of her graduating class because she had taken a semester off - undocumented by the school - to help refugees in third world countries who were in dire need of medical care. That undocumented absence had cost her Honors.

When Christopher had laid eyes on the girl, she realized that she was about the same age, maybe a year or two younger than Lucy. Levinson had seemed tough to Denise - or at the very least, thick skinned. When she was being teased earlier in the hallway, she managed to ignore the comments and roll with the punches. She recognized that behavior in people who had been through the ringer. Whatever this kid's story was, she knew that Levinson would be tough enough to handle whatever came at them. She was feeling more and more confident that she had picked the right one.

As Denise waited, a couple of doctors exited the doors behind her and started to light up their cigarettes, which is was something that Christopher hated. Why work in health care when you were practicing terrible health habits yourself? One of the doctors asked his friend, "Did you hear about Levinson?"

"No," the other said as he took a drag from his cigarette. "What'd she do this time?"

The first doctor shook his head. "I don't know, but Homeland Security came in and asked her a bunch of questions."

"Doesn't mean anything," the second one pointed out.

"Maybe not, but Jameson said that Levinson seemed nervous," the first commented.

"Nervous about what?" the second questioned. "You think she's done something?"

"It's Levy," the first retorted. "Who knows when she's involved."

The second laughed. "You're just mad at her because she's rejected you three times, Roger."

"You make me sound like a bitter housewife," Roger said, blowing smoke from his lips.

"Well," the second doctor started. "You kind of are."

"Screw you," Roger said, taking another drag. "She just doesn't know what she's missing out on."

Just as Christopher was about to say something, Levinson walked outside. She inhaled before saying, "I'm ready to go."

"What'd you do, Levy?" the second one asked. "Everyone thinks you're being arrested."

Levinson turned to face the two doctors. "What makes you think I've done something?"

Roger approached them. Christopher watched him carefully, waiting to see if she would need to force him to stand down. He stood inches from Levinson. "Levy," he taunted. "You're not important. So that means that you've done something wrong and they need to question you behind lock and key."

Levinson had given a half smile, almost as if she was believing the things that were being said about her. "And you wonder why I've rejected you time and again..."

"What's that got to do with anything?" he spat at her.

She shrugged. "Just about as much as what Homeland Security needs me for. It doesn't mean a damn thing."

Levinson turned and started to walk away. Denise looked at both of the doctors and ordered, "Put those things out. You're doctors for crying out loud." She followed Levinson into the parking lot towards her car, leaving two confused and slightly annoyed doctors behind her.

The drive back to the bunker was filled with questions, much like Denise thought it would be.

"Rittenhouse?" the doctor asked. "Like the park in Pennsylvania?"

"Something like that," Denise mumbled. She had already gone through everything they had endured before Garcia Flynn stole the Mothership, how they were able to capture him, but he's now a part - a vital part - of their team. She explained Rittenhouse and all they were doing, how history had been changed numerous times already. She had expected the doctor to be hung up on the fact that there was a time machine - a real one, not something out of science fiction - but rather, she found the good doctor stuck on Rittenhouse's name.

Denise even explained every member of the team. She started with Connor Mason, the man behind the blasted machines that started this whole ordeal. Then she moved onto the next logical people to describe, Rufus and Jiya as they were the engineers who knew the mechanics of the Lifeboat, Mothership, and the software involved. After that, she explained Wyatt's purpose and finally, she talked about Lucy Preston.

The doctor stared blankly at the dashboard of the car. Denise glanced over at her as they drove to the bunker. She asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," the doctor stated, blinking back to the present. "It's uh... It's just a lot to take in, that's all."

"Do you regret coming?" Christopher asked.

"Do you regret asking me?" Levinson turned the question back around.

Denise held the girl's gaze. "Not yet."

The doctor nodded slowly as they pulled into the security of the bunker.

They climbed out of the car, making their way deeper into the bunker. The doctor slung her bag over her shoulder as they entered.

The doctor seemed almost uncomfortable as she took in the dark and dingy state of the bunker. There was even a faint odor of wetness that she couldn't place, but said nothing. She followed Denise further into the bunker. It was quiet.

"Where is everyone?" the doctor asked. Denise shook her head. It was a question even she was asking herself.

As they rounded the corner, they bumped into Rufus and Jiya. All eyes fell on the doctor who stood behind Christopher awkwardly. "Where is everyone?"

Rufus couldn't pull his eyes off Levinson. "They're uh- Sorry, who's this?"

Denise sighed. "Dr. Levinson, this is Rufus and Jiya." She turned back to Rufus. "Where is everyone?"

Rufus motioned back down the hall where they came from. "They're in there, trying to keep Flynn from moving around too much."

Denise gave Levinson a short nod as they headed down the hall towards Flynn and the others. When they entered, Flynn was trying to sit up in bed, while Lucy and Wyatt were determined to keep him from standing up.

"I swear to God, if you don't stop trying to sit up, I will shoot you!" Wyatt shouted at an annoyed Flynn. Levinson noticed the handgun in Wyatt's hand, aiming it towards Flynn. Lucy raised her hand up at Wyatt, giving him a silent warning to stop antagonizing Flynn.

Christopher chimed in, "And then I'll have you arrested for conspiracy." Her voice had quickly gained the attention of the three members in the room. They turned their attention towards her; Wyatt quickly lowered his gun. She motioned to the doctor standing next to her. "This is Dr. Levinson. She's here to take care of Flynn's wound."

Levinson approached Flynn and saw the amount of blood seeping through the gauze that had to have been days old. She observed how pale he was, which told her just how much blood he had lost. Quickly, she took her bag off her shoulders and got to work, pulling items that she stole from the hospital on her way out from her bag, and setting them on the edge of the bed. She pulled on a pair of gloves before reaching for his wound.

She concentrated on working the blood soaked gauze off his side. She was careful not to yank too hard as she feared the pain she would inflict and the skin she might accidently rip off along with the gauze.

Flynn watched the doctor silently as she worked. Her dark eyes narrowed in concentration, lips pursing occasionally as she worked deep in thought. He saw the faint outline of a surgical hat that she had worn when in surgery following along her dirty blond hairline. Her ponytail, which must have been neatly bound this morning, was starting to loosen, allowing some strands to fall around her face.

Feeling like she was being stared at intently, Levinson raised her brown eyes from Flynn's wounded side to his face, meeting his intense gaze. He seemed intrigued and amused at the same time. Feeling slightly flustered under his gaze, Levinson turned her attention back to his wound. She was so focused on her task at hand that she didn't realize that no one else was left in the room other than her and her patient.

When the blood soaked gauze finally came off, she set to the task of cleaning the wound, feeling around for the bullet, which had already been removed by Jiya upon waiting for Levinson to arrive, and sewing him up properly. When she was finished, she removed her gloves, grabbed a pill bottle. She opened it and withdrew a couple of tablets. "Take these."

"What is it?" he asked, as he took them from her, examining them before taking the water she extended to him.

"Antibiotics," she explained. "To help with infection." Once he swallowed them, she stated, "You need some rest. A couple of days before you can start your normal activities."

He smirked. "It's just a graze, Doc." It was as if he was trying to convince everyone that he wasn't in as bad of shape as everyone was making it out to be. She saw through it.

She pursed her lips. "Yeah...okay." She started to gather up her supplies and set herself to the task of cleaning up the mess around her.

Flynn blurted out, "What are you doing here?" The tone of voice he was using was clearly one of interest, curiosity, amusement, and a dash of confusion.

"Excuse me?" she asked, not looking up at him as she continued cleaning.

He propped himself up on his pillow. "What'd Agent Christopher have on you that forced you to be here?"

"Nothing," Levinson replied, matter of fact.

"Nothing?" Flynn asked, almost in shock. "She has nothing against you?"

"No," she replied. "I came willingly."

Flynn watched her movements carefully as he asked, "Who hurt you?"

The girl turned towards him, confusion written on her face. "What?"

He was hoping that the question would have given something away but he was disappointed by the lack of body language she had produced by his prodding questions. "Who hurt you so badly that disappearing seemed like the right plan?"

"No one," the doctor replied quickly, turning back to her task. She finished and said, "I'll let you rest now and I'll come back later to see how you're faring."

Flynn watched with intrigue as she left the room, closing the door behind her as she left.

Levinson walked up to Denise and the others who were waiting in the common living area. All eyes were on her. Christopher asked, "How is he?"

Levinson scanned the room, locking eyes with each member of the team before saying, "He'll live. He needs to rest a couple of days, but then, he'll be good to go." The team looked relieved, even Wyatt, who seemed to hate the man seemed to let a relieved sigh out.

Denise nodded. "I'm glad you're here, Doc."

"Tenley," she stated. "Call me, Tenley." Awkwardly, she shifted in her place and mumbled, "Or Levy."

Denise smiled. "Tenley. Welcome to the team." With that, Agent Christopher took her leave from the group, leaving Tenley standing there with a group of people she had only heard about but didn't know. An awkward silence fell on the room.

Jiya cleared her throat. "Well, uh..." she glanced at her fellow mates before saying, "Welcome...it's not much, but it's sort of home."

Tenley smirked. "I've lived in worse. This is fine."

"So, there's a few things you might want to know," Jiya said as she stood up, approaching the doctor. "First, why don't I show you to your room? I can fill you in on some of the nuisances around here."

"Sounds good," Levinson stated. "Thanks."

The two walked away, Jiya leading the way. As they walked, Jiya pointed out rooms, who slept where, and then said, "This is the bathroom. There's no lock on the door, so you'll have to put the chair up against the door... that's what we've all agreed to on how to have some privacy, especially showering."

Tenley nodded. "Okay, easy enough, I suppose."

Jiya walked them into a semi-large room. Tenley scanned about the room as Jiya stated, "This will be your room."

"It's huge," the doctor stated. "All the other rooms you pointed out were smaller-"

Jiya admitted, "Well, unfortunately, you'll be sleeping in what you'll most likely have make into the infirmary."

Levinson glanced about the room. It wouldn't be a sterile environment, especially with the fact that she'd have to live in it as well, but she's been to third world countries; she knew that this was a much cleaner place than most she'd seen. She'd make it work. She turned to Jiya. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

The two smiled warmly at each other. Just as Jiya was about to leave, she stopped at the door and said, "I know it's not a perfect place to be, and it's going to get somewhat lonely here at times, but... everyone here are good people. You won't be short of friends."

Tenley smiled. "Thanks, Jiya." Jiya smiled again and left the doctor alone in the room to get settled and set up.

It took Tenley a few hours to rearrange the room into a proper infirmary that flowed easily based on what she could envision she would be needing to do. There was a specific setup in the corner of the room, furthest from the door, that she had set up with privacy blinds, in case she needed a place to do surgery. It was the closest thing that would work for a sterile environment she could come up with. She had a bed opposite the privacy blinds, closer to the door, for when someone just came in for a patch job. Above the sink, which was just next to the patch up bed, was where she had all of the medical supplies she brought with her, including what they already had on hand.

Levinson was genuinely surprised when she discovered a portable x-ray machine, blood pressure cuffs, syringes and IV bags with tubing, as well as a few other portable pieces of equipment that she wasn't expecting to see in a bunker. With every item inventoried, the doctor felt like she could make this work incredibly well. She felt surprisingly confident.

Once the infirmary was set up, she focused on the opposite end of the room, which would be used as her personal living space. She had not much room to utilize for herself, but she didn't need much. She pushed the dingy couch up against the wall and shoved what little she had personally for herself into the small nightstand that she pushed up next to the couch. The finishing touch was placing a small lamp with no shade on the table. The bulb, when turned on, was dim, but it produce a large amount of light once it had been on for a while. It would do.

Just as Tenley finished setting up her living/working room, a knock landed on the door. "Come in," she called out.

The door opened and Agent Christopher walked in. She halted in her tracks for a moment, taking in all the work that Tenley had done. "I have to say that I'm impressed." She turned her attention from the room to Tenley. "You did this all?"

Tenley nodded. "Yeah... I tried to set it up as much as I could to a real hospital but-"

"I think it looks great," Denise stated, clearly impressed.

Tenley watched her, waiting for her to state the reason for her visit. "What's up?"

The woman blinked back to the present. "Have you checked up on your patient?"

"I was just about to go there next," Tenley started. "Why?"

"He's been complaining about being laid up in bed," she stated. "Swears that he's able to get up."

Tenley smirked. "Men." Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, afraid that she might not have been wise to say that out loud, she quickly looked at Agent Christopher, adding, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Doesn't make it any less true," Denise said with a chuckle. "However, best that you don't say that too loudly next time." Denise watched the girl nod. She added, "If you need to bring him here and restrain him, I'll be happy to oblige."

Levinson cracked a smile, relaxing from her earlier outburst. "I'll take a look at him. He might just be ready to move around now." Levinson took her leave from the room, leaving Denise behind, who was still marveling at the kid's achievement.

A knock landed on Flynn's door. He grimaced as he sat up on the edge of his bed, "Come in." The door opened slowly and the young doctor poked her head in before fully opening the door to enter. "Ah, Doc. What brings you here?"

She had a disappointed look on her face when she saw him sitting up on the edge of the bed. To his surprise, she didn't say anything about it. Instead, she asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Like a million bucks," he groaned through gritted teeth.

She blinked at his comment. "What? Dirty money, million?" He chuckled, shifting in his place. She bent down and looked at the bandage on his side, feeling his eyes on her the entire time. She reached out and gingerly touched the skin around the bandage. "How's it feeling?"

"It hurts," he admitted. "I just need something for the pain."

She glanced up at him. "You need to rest, but if you think meds are what you need, fine. I'll be right back."

As she started to leave the room, he asked in shock, "That's it?" She froze and turned to look at him as he continued his questioning, "No reprimand for sitting up early? No ordering me to rest?"

Levinson released a defeated sigh. "You don't strike me as the kind of patient who would listen to me even if I were to strap you down to the bed. Instead, I think you're the kind of patient who thinks they know best, and there's no reasoning with you." She shrugged and added, "I've learned that with patients like you, the best way to handle it is to let them take control of their health, watch them suffer and struggle until they complain about how they're not getting better and ask for help. Until you come to me to get better, I'm not going to bother telling you what to do."

Flynn stood up and padded across the room towards her. He stopped a few inches shy from her. She could feel the heat that he emanated suddenly embrace her. She stared back into his gaze as he looked down at her. He studied her face for a moment before calling her bluff. "You don't do that."

She swallowed nervously. "You're right. I don't. But imagine what a difference it would make if doctors did that." Flynn smirked. She took a step backwards towards the door. "Let's get you some pain meds, then."

They walked in silence down the hall towards the infirmary. When they entered, Flynn stopped only a couple of steps into the room. He had a similar reaction to the room as Agent Christopher had. He seemed shocked to see it organized in a short amount of time. The doctor didn't waste any time settling in, he thought. He said, "You've been busy."

She didn't say anything, just nodded as she turned to the cabinets to the right of them. She opened a door and pulled out a pill bottle.

As she worked to get Flynn his pain meds, he had stepped closer to her, standing behind her, waiting silently a couple of feet away. She turned around with the pills in a small plastic cup and smacked into him.

Flynn saw the startled look on her face as she ran into him, causing her to drop the tiny cup with pills inside. He heard the cup and tablets plink off the floor. She stared at him for a moment, blinking away her embarrassment. "Sorry," she whispered. "Didn't realize you were right there." She quickly bent down to the floor to search for the pills. Flynn lowered himself to his knee to help her look when she shook her head. "No, don't," she started. "You're hurt, I'll get them."

He studied her again, ignoring her request for him to stand up. Instead, he picked up the small plastic cup and one of the tablets that were by his feet. "I've got one here." He held it between his pointer finger and thumb, showing her the tablet.

"I've got the other," she said, standing up again. When they were both on their feet, she handed him the other tablet in his open palm and said, "Thanks for helping."

"Sorry for scaring you," he joked. He popped the pills in his mouth. Before she could ask him if he wanted any water, he had swallowed them both with ease. He held out the tiny cup for her.

She gave him a half smile as she took the cup from his fingers, brushing her fingertips against his. She didn't blink at the connection, but Flynn lingered for a moment before turning and taking his leave from the infirmary.

When he was gone from the room, Tenley watched as the door closed behind him before setting to the task of cleaning the cup and sterilizing it as best as she could with the tools she had for the next person.

#timeless #garcia flynn #wyatt logan #lucy preston #rufus carlin #jiya marri #denise christopher #original female character #garcia flynn x original character #wyatt logan/lucy preston #rufus carlin/jiya marri #sharing for a non tumblr user #check them out #zealprophet27

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giftofthegodess · 4 years

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For @shinrasfirst ; Rufus

Rufus was asleep.

It was something that happened from time to time when they hung out, but Genesis was just glad the blond felt comfortable enough around him to simply rest as needed. They both certainly had varied sleep schedules, with Rufus’s insomnia mandating these occasional naps when he felt able. The redhead’s schedule was determined primarily by his duty, of course, but sleep was quantified and recorded as per SOLDIER standards. If they couldn’t sleep of their own accord, Materia could be used to optimize efficiency. Genesis however managed his sleep reasonably well.

But right now while his company slept, the young First lingered companionably. It was quiet. Peaceful. Genesis was quietly reading in the dim glow of the wee-hours outside, Mako-enhanced vision not requiring a light to make out the words on the pages perfectly. He sat propped up in the windowsill in a way that might be somewhat awkward for some, but to the young man who’d grown up climbing and lazing in trees no matter how strangely they twisted or prodded for him to find a balanced place to read, this was hardly a difficult sitting position.

He was well antiquated with the window. It was his usual passage of entry to Rufus’s room on the upper levels of the Shinra family’s mansion after all. It had become a game for them. On days when Genesis was on a rotation back in Midgar, and on nights when Rufus was home alone, the blond would text requesting company and start a timer. Genesis would then scope out the postings of security surrounding the mansion and its grounds before infiltrating undetected. After their visits, the SOLDIER made a point of leaving through the front door, reliably giving security quite the scare and leaving them to work out the flaws in their surveillance as he exited smug with his hands in his pockets and confident strides.

He exhaled a small laugh. Tonight had been a new record, and one that would be a concerning blemish for theirs once more. Genesis turned his gaze from looking out over the grounds back inside, a gentle smile warming his face at the sight of the other still fast asleep.

Simply put, Rufus was beautiful. The way his expression softened when he was relaxed, unburdened by all their lives carried. There was no weight in his eyelids nor brow, and his hair typically swept to immaculately frame his face instead drooped in a filtered curtain. Perhaps it might sound ridiculous to say, but Genesis’s heart would flutter in moments like these. He wanted to tell Rufus. He didn’t have an issue laying on flattery or flirtation with anyone else. But with Rufus? For some reason he simply didn’t know how.

Genesis. Of all people. Without words.

His brow furrows somber. He felt dishonest, playing at friendship with the other when his heart had already taken steps well beyond, wanting for more. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to endure it, really, but numerous times had he already psyched himself out of saying anything. Even the slightest hint. Gaia, perhaps it was almost obvious by how little he tried... Ironically hypocritical. Flutters had once more turned to ache and yearn, all the while Rufus simply rested.

All was peaceful and undisturbed until in his peripheral Genesis caught the glow of his phone. It was silent, but the blinking light indicted he had a message. Flipping the device open he checked it.

[From: Dir. Lazard Deusericus] Urgent deployment. Briefing in 10.

Quietly the SOLDIER sighed, sending a quick acknowledgement in reply before closing it and tucking the phone away, then also slipping his book into a lining pocket of his coat before gingerly removing himself from the windowsill. It happened time to time that he had to leave Rufus while he was sleeping. Genesis would always leave a note explaining his absence for when the other awoke, and today would be no exception. His steps were silent as he slinked across to the desk where he knew he’d find both paper and a pen to compose his note.

Sorry to vanish on you again,

The Director messaged and I suspect I am bound overseas once more.

I’ll send you the details once I know, of course.

Hope you slept well,

~Gen

Folding the paper crisply to a letter, he addressed it to ‘Rufus,’ with large flourished penmanship before putting the writing tool away. Moving to the recipient’s side, Genesis couldn’t help his eyes wistfully passing over him once more. Lightly he placed the letter where it would be seen, but then hesitated to leave, instead lingering.

Beyond Rufus’s gentle breathing, the only sound Genesis was aware of for all his enhancements, was that the thumping in his chest had accelerated. The copper’s lips lightly opened to let out a small pent up breath he didn’t realise he’d taken. He should be heading for the door but instead here he was, contemplating acting like a cowardly love-stricken fool. Except it was no mere act, it was the truth.

He leaned over Rufus, careful not to disturb him in any way that could break his slumber but for the lightest and most gentle planting of innocent affection upon his ashen crown. Genesis rose slowly, daring not to breathe again lest he disturb even a single follicle further. Stillness and adrenaline... After a moment, like a fox he deftly made his way to the bedroom door, opening it and stepping through. But he chanced to steal one last glance...

Pale blue eyes lock. His own widen in a flash while his cheeks flush, and his heart feels as though it’s leap into his throat. In an instant Genesis leaves the passage to flee, too quick to even read Rufus’s expression. The bandit is downstairs but a moment later, exiting through the front as always, however this time his gait is hurried rather than a casual stroll. The one time, and he had been caught.

Genesis had never anticipated a briefing to distract him more in his life.

#Her gift everlasting (Drabbles)#shinrasfirst #shinrasfirst; Rufus #v Take to the Sky Verse

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nicolewrites · 4 years

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coming home - ii

part two of the three part character study!

Sylvgrid week just ended, so have this to celebrate! Part 3 will take a little longer as it of course depends on the time I have to write it. Big shoutout to the Sylvgrid Discord and all my enablers over there <3

Rating: T+ Genre: Angst, Friendship Characters: [Sylvain Jose Gautier & Ingrid Brandl Galatea] Words: 2,433

"In war, there was no home. There was your base and your objective and the distance that stretched between them." / two - five years of war.

AO3

two - war and change

In war, there was no home. There was your base and your objective and the distance that stretched between them. There were no playful dances and drinks shared with good stories or tests to stay up late studying for. There was war correspondence and treaty negotiations and entirely too much blood.

At first, Sylvain stayed at Margravate Gautier. He shadowed his father and wrote letters to Ingrid and Felix and Annette and Mercedes and Ashe. The Empire pushed the war into Kingdom territories. Ashe was the first to stop writing back as Rowe fell quickly to the Empire. Annette’s next letter detailed the fact that Ashe had joined her family at the Dominic Barony. Then Dominic fell and Annette’s letters ceased.

Ingrid’s letters grew increasingly worried and Sylvain felt helpless. Gautier was north enough and far away enough from the front lines that he hadn’t seen any real fights. His father was sending men to fight, of course, but Sylvain had barely left the Margravate.

Felix’s letters were abrupt and short and increasingly angry after Baron Dominic surrendered to the Empire. Felix, unlike Sylvain, had seen the fighting firsthand. He was with his father coordinating attacks and troops and trying to keep the Kingdom’s war effort under control with no thanks to the capital.

Dimitri never wrote. Sylvain wrote him one letter, but then decided to spend his energy elsewhere.

Two months into the war, the Margrave called him into his study.

“You’ve been writing to your friends.”

“Yes.”

“You know, then, that Dominic and many of the Eastern Lords have surrendered to the Empire.”

“Yes.”

“You are going to stop writing to Galatea. You may continue your correspondence to Fraldarius, but you will cease writing to Galatea.”

Sylvain stiffened. “The Count is on our side. He will not cave, no matter the pressure that the Empire places on him. Besides, he borders the Alliance, not the Empire.”

“It does not do well to involve a woman in war.”

And then he understood. This wasn’t a security risk in his letters going to Galatea, it was an Ingrid-risk. Sylvain was suddenly very angry, very quickly.

“And the Count?”

“He made the request of me,” the Margrave replied coolly. He glanced up from his desk and assessed Sylvain. “Take the lance and a cavalry battalion. There have been disturbances at the Sreng border. You are to deal with them. You leave tomorrow.”

Sylvain nearly hurled a chair at his father, but he kept his temper under control and swept out of his father’s office. He penned a letter to Felix asking about Ingrid and if Fraldarius had also been asked to keep her out of the loop. He enclosed a shorter letter to Ingrid as well, explaining that he was off to cause more death and destruction on the border for a while.

The melting snow on the Sreng border quickly became stained with mud and the blood of soldiers. The Sreng warriors didn’t seem to get the hint though, and they kept coming. Day after day they tried to push the border south and day after day Sylvain swung the Lance of Ruin and cut down sons and fathers and brothers.

Two of his horses died and were swiftly replaced. He rode at the front of his troops, commanding them and leading them into battle in the day, but at night he retreated to his tent and wrote letters.

Felix wrote back: he was still speaking with Ingrid, but likely only due to the already existing relationship between Galatea and Fraldarius. Ingrid’s letters came through Felix. He received no more letters from Mercedes.

Sylvain pressed a pen to the paper and couldn’t find the words to describe the slaughter he faced every day. Men died for a line in the sand that moved inch by bloody inch daily. His hands were so stained with blood, he dreaded the day he might hold something other than a weapon. He understood Dimitri’s fear now: the hands of a monster were not fit to hold anything other than a tool of war.

His lance and riding skills flourished under the conditions, but Sylvain missed axes and strength and precision and the rushing feeling of wind around him as he flew above the earth on a wyvern that responded much more instinctively than a horse.

He stayed at the border for three months and they were three of the worst months of his life. His letters took longer to be delivered to his friends and their responses were delayed. But, finally, his father summoned him home and the situation at the border settled to a point where the Gautier troops could mostly retreat back to the centre of the Margravate.

They met the Fraldarius messenger at the edge of the city. The courier insisted he had urgent information for the Margrave, but Sylvain straightened his shoulders and demanded the message himself, first.

The news was worse than he expected: Fhirdiad had fallen and Dimitri was dead.

Sylvain’s head spun. The messenger came from Fraldarius. That meant that Felix already knew and it meant that Margrave Gautier was likely close to the top of the list of people to find out. The ride from Fraldarius territory to Gautier was shorter than the ride from Fraldarius to Galatea.

He sent the messenger onwards to his father and made immediately for the stables. He took a warhorse from the stables and took an axe from the armoury. He gathered what he needed for a four-day ride and called aside three of the knights that had ridden the fastest with him from Sreng. “We ride for Galatea at dusk,” he instructed. “Your orders come from me, not my father. If you don’t wish to come, find me a replacement who will.”

All three of the knights accepted his commands and prepared to depart. Not a word was uttered to his father until they reached the edge of the city surrounding Castle Gautier. Sylvain sent a messenger then, to inform his father that he was riding for Galatea and that he would be back in probably two weeks.

They reached Galatea after four days of exhaustive, intense riding and Sylvain felt ready to fall off of his horse. Instead, he spotted the lone figure riding towards him from Galatea Manor. She was riding bareback and was wearing only riding pants and a casual top, but even from this far away, he could see the murder on her expression and the lance in her hand.

He jumped off his horse so that he was on foot when she reached him and Ingrid dismounted before she had come to a full stop. She recognized him later than he had expected and had barely managed to lower her lance before he drew her into a bruising hug.

“What’s happening?” Ingrid asked, her hands curling into his armour. She sounded lost and upset and Sylvain thought of Dimitri and his voice caught in his throat.

He buried his nose in her hair and exhaled shakily. In his arms, Ingrid twisted, trying to pull away, but he didn’t let her. Finally, she got the leverage she needed and jammed her palms against his chest hard enough that he had to lean away to keep his balance.

She looked confused and stricken. “Why was there an express messenger from Fraldarius here yesterday? Why are you here, Sylvain?”

“Rufus was murdered,” he said shakily. “Rufus was murdered and Cornelia framed Dimitri.”

Ingrid’s hands flew to her mouth in horror. “No.”

Sylvain felt tears burn in his eyes. His voice broke when he continued. “He’s gone, Ing. They executed him.”

Ingrid threw herself against him again as she sobbed. Sylvain clutched her like she was the anchor that held him to the earth. He ignored his bloodstained hands as he hugged her and they cried together. Someone’s knees gave out and they ended up on the ground, holding each other as they grieved for the prince and their friend and their country.

Fhirdiad had fallen and now Sylvain had no home.

Count Galatea begrudgingly allowed Sylvain to stay. He and his soldiers were put up in the meagre guest wing of the manor, but Sylvain understood that his men being here put a drain on Galatea’s resources that was unsustainable.

Sylvain told the Count that he would leave after four days, giving his men just enough time to be well-rested again before they returned to Margravate Gautier. The Count seemed to find this satisfactory enough, though Sylvain knew his presence had seriously pissed off Ingrid’s father.

Ingrid’s father who had been making every attempt to hide the truth of the war from Ingrid. Ingrid’s father who had been trying to ensure that Ingrid didn’t know Dimitri was dead and that Fhirdiad had fallen and that the true Kingdom was starting to lose the war. Ingrid’s father whose plans Sylvain had completely upturned, causing Ingrid to grow furious at her father.

Sylvain hadn’t really expected Ingrid to retaliate, but Ingrid showed up at his door the night before he was set to return to Gautier with a pair of scissors and an expression full of fury. As soon as he had opened the door, she had pushed past him, heading into his adjoining bath chamber.

He watched her hack off her long hair until it was trimmed short around her jaw. The job was fairly uneven and Sylvain didn’t do anything except watch from the entrance of the chamber as Ingrid’s hair tumbled to the floor. Her jaw was set as she did it, but once she placed the scissors down, her expression crumpled.

Sylvain hurried to her and touched her shoulder. She turned to him, her eyes blazing and filled with tears.

“Gilbert said that the execution was concealed. He believes Dimitri escaped.”

Sylvain was surprised. The messenger in Gautier hadn’t delivered that piece of information, but by the anger and the sternness of Ingrid’s expression, he knew that she had wrestled the information out of her father and that she believed it whole-heartedly.

“You think he’s still alive.”

Her hand curled over his where it rested on her shoulder. “We lost Fhirdiad. We lost Dominic and Rowe and we don’t know what’s happened to our friends there. I refuse to accept that we’ve lost him too.”

Ashe and Annette’s whereabouts were still uncertain since the surrender of the Dominic Barony. Mercedes had been in Fhirdiad the last time she had written and there hadn’t been time to confirm if she had escaped too. Dedue also would have been in Fhirdiad, with Dimitri.

“What do you want to do?”

Ingrid smiled at him: a small, watery one, but a smile nonetheless. “I want to find him.”

“Then let’s go.”

She stood up and threw her arms around him. “Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you for not taking this away from me too.

Sylvain hugged her and said nothing. For all the pain he had caused and felt since the war started, he could not imagine being Ingrid. He could not imagine being a prisoner in her own home where she was not allowed to know the truth of what happened outside her walls. He could not imagine not being allowed to fight for his country: something they had trained their entire lives to be able to do.

They made plans to meet in Fraldarius territory in a few months. They would play along with their parents for a little while longer, but then they would go. They didn’t inform Felix of the plan, but they both knew that he would never let them go after Dimitri without him, even if they were chasing a ghost.

Ingrid saw him off when he left Galatea and there was more life and energy in her eyes than he remembered seeing for a long time. She had a purpose now and it was hers to fill, not her father’s to hide from her. Sylvain was happy to provide her with that. He brushed a hand through her shorter hair when he hugged her goodbye. Her hands were cold when she touched his face softly in farewell, but Sylvain smiled anyways.

Five years passed. Days and weeks and months trickled by with agonizing slowness. Sylvain and Ingrid’s fathers had been furious when they left to search for Dimitri, but Lord Rodrigue provided them with stables for their mounts and supplies for their trip and information that they could use to scour forests and villages across Faerghus.

Felix was furious at his father’s intervention, but Ingrid and Sylvain were grateful for the assistance. Gilbert joined them sometimes too, but most recently, he had been headed east while they investigated a forest to the south.

They were following a bare-bones rumour of murdered Imperial patrols on their way south to the monastery. Garreg Mach had been left empty for five years, but Ingrid insisted that they make their way there for the five year anniversary. It was supposed to be a happy occasion, but she argued that maybe the others would come too and they could see Annette and Mercedes and Ashe and Dedue again and they could join in the search.

In the end, the three of them arrived, already tired, to a battle underway in the outskirts of the monastery. Ashe arrived with Gilbert and Mercedes and Annette arrived together.

Moonlight glinted off a silver lance at the north part of the battlefield as Dimitri cut his way through bandits. The Professor fought beside him, her expression calm and her sword quick as she protected the reckless prince.

After the fight, they regrouped at the foot of the monastery. He grinned at his old classmates and former professor and studied Dimitri with a critical eye. There was something broken about Dimitri; something more broken than it had been five years prior.

Dedue’s death was an unexpected sting. Dimitri’s voice sounded more human when it broke on his friend’s name and Sylvain’s heart clenched uncomfortably. It wasn’t right that their friend was dead. Dedue, who had given him cooking tips. Dedue, who had been grateful to hear his opinion. Dedue, who had taken none of his shit and reminded Sylvain that he deserved to be seen as a human, not a tool or a beast.

Sylvain looked up at the damaged monastery that loomed above him. Even though nothing about the circumstances were ideal, something in Sylvain’s chest jumped excitedly. His friends were almost all here and Dimitri was alive and the Professor was alive.

Despite the horrid circumstances, he was home.

#the writing section #sylvain jose gautier #sylvgrid #coming home #fic: coming home #ii. war and change #f: fire emblem #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #ingrid brandl galatea #c: sylvain jose gautier #c: ingrid brandl galatea #g: angst #g: friendship #r: t #words: 2.4k+#ship: sylvgrid #fe3h #fire emblem three houses fic

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dulcepericulum-rp · 4 years

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In the month and a half since the memorial at St. Mungo’s, the world has been quiet—-publicly at least. No one can deny that tension rang through the streets of London and the walkways of both Diagon and Knockturn Alley, setting a permanent grey cloud over the already dreary England skies. People speak in hushed whispers, milling about in shops long after they’ve closed and crowding the Leaky Cauldron more than what’s considered usual (though Tom isn’t one to complain from the profit earned from this scare). The wizarding world is waiting for the other shoe to drop… and finally, they get their wish.

On February 17, a flurry of owls are sent off into the sky, the number so great that some mistake them for clouds or, if near a park, the leaves of a tree. Early risers think nothing of it when a paper arrives at their homes, but some are confused when they receive two bundles instead of one: one of the usual Daily Prophet, and another from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Some look at that paper first, but all eventually turn their eyes to the Daily Prophet as they are wont to do, the staggering headline facing them in big, bold print:

‘HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY TO CLOSE INDEFINITELY’

On the second page of the paper, under the Auror Beats, another shocking piece of news comes into light: Alastor Moody has been declared missing in action, and Rufus Scrimgeour is to step in as acting Head Auror until further notice. His induction ceremony is set to happen eleven days from the publication of the article—February 29.

Meanwhile, the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters don’t sit idly by. Hogwarts, once considered the safest place on Earth, is now free for the taking. After all, who wouldn’t want to put a castle to use? The Death Eaters have an advantage, thanks to the break-in earlier in the month by Bellatrix Lestrange and Rabastan Lestrange that led to the shut down in the first place.

FEBRUARY 29 - MORNING

(9:30 am) Fabian Prewett, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and Lily Potter arrive near Hogwarts as a group, all with separate tasks and limited time to get them done. Nearby, Bellatrix Lestrange arrives at Hogwarts with the intent to find and combat any Order members she comes across.

(9:32 am) In Hogsmeade, reconstruction efforts are well underway. Narcissa Malfoy is there personally overseeing everything and, having been the first to declare public support for Hogsmeade and donated a large sum of money to the cause, is followed without question. While coordinating the volunteers, Narcissa comes across Molly Weasley, who had taken Bill and Charlie out with her to help. Unfortunately, the boys have gotten off somewhere while Molly checked on the twins, and the two women search together for the children.

(9:45 am) A little ways away, Lucinda Talkalot and Marlene McKinnon walk through Hogsmeade both to volunteer and build good PR for the Catapults. Billy and their coach have asked Lucinda to groom Marlene’s public disposition, but Marlene seems she would rather be anywhere else. Lucinda quickly manages to give Marlene the slip when they’re stopped by Narcissa and Molly, going to the Forbidden Forest and entering the Hogwarts grounds through the breach. She is meant to watch over the grounds while Bellatrix scouts inside the castle, but has the unfortunate luck of running into Fabian Prewett, who had been doing the exact same thing.

(9:57 am) Inside of Hogwarts, Peter Pettigrew and Lily Potter team up to search the lower levels of Hogwarts for anything that could be of use. Lily also scouts the condition of the castle to see if it’s viable to use for the RHEA Initiative. While Lily searches through Slughorn’s supply closet, Peter keeps watch and comes face-to-face with Bellatrix. Not wanting the most important part of the mission to fail because of a duel, he tells Bellatrix where she can find Sirius in the castle, knowing that he can take care of himself. Luckily for him and Lily, the witch takes the bait and leaves to find her cousin.

(10:10 am) Near the Gryffindor common room, Sirius Black is confronted by Bellatrix, their rivalry coming to a head in a duel against one another. Sirius is grievously injured in the fight and is left by Bellatrix to die. Back in Dumbledore’s office, Fabian, Peter, and Lily search through the old headmaster’s belongings one more time for anything that could be useful. When Sirius fails to show up at the allotted time, Fabian makes the decision to leave without him, and the three of them escape the castle through Dumbledore’s illegal Floo network.

(10:12 am) Outside of Hogwarts’ barrier, Amelia Bones waits in case the infiltrators need back-up. When she hears nothing, she decides to start an unofficial investigation as to how anyone got through the school’s wards in the first place; about halfway between Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest, she finds Pandora Lovegood, who is going the same thing under the guise of writing an article for the Quibbler.

(10:27 am) Not wanting to attend the induction ceremony that evening, James Potter volunteers to strengthen the wards around Hogsmeade while he waits for the proper time to join the team in Hogwarts. He loses track of time, however, between his work and chatting for appearances, and it isn’t until he hears Marlene mention Lucinda’s disappearance that he realizes something is wrong. James abandons his post and rushes to Hogwarts, where he not only finds that his wife and comrades are gone, but that Sirius is on the ground dying outside of their old haunt. He gets in contact with Amelia using his Patronus as a messenger, and the two quickly bring him to St. Mungo’s, unaware that Pandora followed Amelia inside and sees them carrying Sirius into the Floo Network to leave the building.

FEBRUARY 29 - EVENING

(7:30 pm) The induction ceremony for Rufus Scrimgeour is crowded, though it seems that more than half of the Aurors manage to get out of attending it. One of the few there is Alice Longbottom, who seems less-than-pleased to see anyone but Alastor Moody standing in Scrimgeour’s spot. She makes conversation with Alecto Carrow, who is lingering by the refreshments table, and becomes distracted by Mary Macdonald, who decided to make an appearance to provide more of an Order presence to the ceremony. In the moment of distraction, Alecto dumps several vials of poison into the various punches and leaves before the two women can speak with her further. She will not, after all, ruin the Dark Lord’s orders over measly conversation.

(7:52 pm) After Scrimgeour’s speech is over, Gideon Prewett makes his way toward him with his nephew Percy in tow, wanting to introduce himself to his new boss. After a shallow introduction, Scrimgeour brushes him off and leaves Gideon standing in the middle of the atrium. With a promise to give Percy a tour of the Ministry after hours to uphold, he turns to do so but is intercepted by both Mary Macdonald and Sinistra Lowe for some idle conversation. The conversation with Sinistra doesn’t last long, as a slightly-lost looking Lucius Malfoy begins to field press questions. If he seems to favor questions from the Quibbler more than anyone else, no one decides to say.

(8:12 pm) Rabastan Lestrange, having been tricked into attending the ceremony, has happily indulged in the free punch and freely admonishes the event under his breath. He latches onto Mary and begins drunken ramblings that only leaves her with more questions than answers. Across the way, Alecto sees his state and cannot save him from the poison without exposing herself and angering the Dark Lord. On her way out, she passes by Sinistra, drink in her hand, and presses a vial of antidote into her palm with the whispered instruction to pass it to Lucius. She makes her exit quickly, and Sinistra does what she says without asking questions for the moment.

(8:15 pm) Alice Longbottom is the first to fall, the cup in her hand shattering on the floor and sending wine and glass everywhere. The concern is small at first, with the nearest people going to help her, but when Rabastan Lestrange and Sinistra Lowe fall one after the other, the crowd becomes panicked. The people who drank that evening begin dropping like flies, the horrified yells of those who did not drink emphasized by the ever-present thumping of bodies and breaking glass. Having not had anything to drink, Lucius and Gideon begin working together to help the fallen, aided substantially when Lucius realizes the vial passed to him is an antidote. Mary helps the two of them as well, but the small amount she did drink catches up to her, and she falls with the rest.

MARCH 1

News of the disaster at the Ministry from the previous night spreads like wildfire, and for his first act as Head Auror, Scrimgeour separates the Aurors into two teams: one team will continue to investigate the Hogwarts security breach, while the other puts all their time and resources into figuring out who was behind the mass poisoning and why. With some of his best Aurors currently in the hospital, however, it proves to be a substantial task to take on. His next act is assigning a new security detail to protect Minister Minchum, the unit headed by Corban Yaxley and (unknown to Scrimgeour) composed of several Death Eaters.

The plan to take over the Ministry of Magic is underway. Corban just needs to take care of Rufus Scrimgeour before it can come to fruition.

#dulceevent

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ahmedmootaz · 5 years

Text

So The Shipping.

So, here I am. Back again for more shippiness between Drakken and Shego. I recently finished So The Drama, if it wasn’t obvious from the title, and I’ve ventured a bit into Season 4, and I gotta say, these are really quite something, so here are the moments I felt were ‘shippy’.

So let’s start with So The Drama itself. I quite like how Dr.Drakken seems to have gained his schitck together, having quite a bit of evil scientists, the syntho-drones, and the fact that he considers Shego the most trustworthy person to test them on is nice. Their entire sequence at his lab was fairly nice, too, what with Shego encouraging, actually encouraging without any sarcasm (for the most part) Drakken once he starts questioning his villainous capabilities and mentioning to him his various inventions and his limited-successes. I also loved their small interaction when Drakken found Mr.Nakasumi’s drawing and she jumped on him to take it and his only objection was that she took it, not the jump itself. It was a fun one. From then on it’s mostly about Drakken being smart for once, but one particular scene I liked was when Shego was discovering that he was being smart and she was actually impressed by his actions for once. Him sing-teasing her was equally amusing. The fact that he actually complimented her intelligence right there and then so casually actually caught me off-guard. There aren’t many shippy-moments between them from then-on, but his eagerness to gloat to her about his success with Eric kinda made it seem like he was actively trying to impress her...which is actually probably what he was trying to do, now that I remember all the previous episodes.

I also gotta say, I was personally impressed by how far Drakken got just by...well, being quiet this time. Generally speaking, if he’d remembered to tie up Rufus or rid Kim and Ron of their weapons, then he could’ve very well been running the world that night. Shame the good guys always have to win, but also not a shame since Drakken would probably rule with an iron dictatorship to be a villain...?

Ah well, after the wonderful ending of So The Drama (IT’S JUST SAND IN MY EYES I SWEAR) I was super hyped for Season 4, so I go in, love the first episode and then watch “The Big Job”. Welp. I guess that was as much loyalty as I expected from Shego. It was nice to demonstrate that she still thought about Drakken when she saw how much stuff Senior Senior Junior had (”Do you know how much time Drakken spent to get these things?!”), though. I guess the benefits of having Drakken as a boss is that he does remember to fish you out of crocodile pits. But the most important bit in that episode is that Drakken has prison tattoos. Extremely important, you guys.

It’s episode 4, and both Drakken and Shego are still stuck in prison. Talk about good security. Aaaaand Motor Ed breaks Shego out in “Car Alarm” and leaves Drakken out. I mean, I expected it from him at this point, but still. Family’s supposed to stick together, Eddie. Nothing much regarding Drakken happens afterwards, but Eddie trying to be “smooth” with Shego got to me. Not gonna work for ya’, dude, seriously. I assume she’s actually missing Drakken after those wonderful experiences.

Then...”Mad Dogs And Aliens.” I love, love how the first thing that came to Drakken’s mind when hearing that a green lady was asking about him (after dismissing it as someone else breaking out Shego) was that Shego finally came for him. He still had faith in her after all this time. Of course, it turns out to be Warmonga, but still. Shego taking a vacation from Drakken was so...Shego, if that’s the correct way to put it, but she still had him somewhere in the back of her mind, and the moment she heard he broke out, she came to find him. Their little interaction where Shego looks at Drakken then motions to Warmonga and he silently replies was golden; they know each other so well they only need to gesture. I do also like how he didn’t actually mean for Shego to go through the door, which was...I honestly should’ve seen it coming from Warmonga. I suppose it was very much in character for him to capture her to gloat about his latest success after she basically thought he had nothing left in him. Not very nice, though. I also sensed she was jealous that he found a sidekick that wasn’t her, and it was mostly the reason she stopped him; to have a place with him again. Oooooor it could be me with my shipping goggles. Yeah, but let’s go with the first explanation. Of course, after that ending it would seem as if they’d need a small talk or two to sort things out between them, and I’m certain a good chunk of the Fandom has done so already...

In any case, I couldn’t finish this post without an episode where there’s good air between them: “Clothes Minded.” Alright, so the fact that they’ve got their heists back in sync is enough proof that they sorted things out, but their interactions during the heists are fairly nice, and I especially loved the part where they laugh together at Kim’s “Bot-Suit”; they just looked to be having so much fun together. The remaining part of the episode had some good banter between them (I especially liked Drakken’s justifications about being in college), and yet just as things got good, it was one small detail...Still they both got away together, which was nice to see.

And that’s all, folks. I’m certain the way things are going I may finish the series quickly, which is a shame, really, but I’m enjoying things so far. In any case, have some shippiness. I really enjoyed both of them so far, and I suppose the following episodes won’t really stop my shipping spree, so until next time, folks, share your thoughts, opinions and feedback, and stay spankin’.

#Kim Possible #dr. drakken #shego #shippy stuff #drakgo #I suppose

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oldshrewsburyian · 5 years

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Garcy + Q please?

I take you at your word, Anon, though I really don’t see how “One Missed Call” could be anything but angsty, as shall become clear. Prompt list here. I… look, since these characters suffer so much in canon, I just wish to reiterate that this angst was Not My Idea (except in its details, for which I take responsibility.)

“The Leonore overture No. 3,” says the radio announcer, “Beethoven’s paean to conjugal love, here in a performance from the Berlin Philharmonic under Von Karajan.” Flynn lets the water out of the sink, and turns to drying the wine glasses. “And now over to the news.”

“In breaking news,” says a woman in the sober tones reserved for still-uncertain tragedy, “Stanford University is on lockdown after a reported shooting…” The glass shatters. “Police have as yet made no arrest.”

He is afraid to move. The shards and fragments of glass around his feet have nothing to do with this. If he moves, if he so much as breathes, he will give time permission to continue. And he is far from sure that he is prepared to do that.

The decision is taken out of his hands: on the kitchen island, his phone starts buzzing. Flynn curses under his breath. He is very aware of his own heartbeat. He picks up the phone. Of course, the texts are not from her. In the Time Team thread, Rufus has written: Saw news on Twitter — update when you can?? To Flynn, he has written: U need me to hack anything? get info? Flynn hesitates, then replies to the latter: Thanks. I’m headed there now. He breathes. He is lightheaded with oxygen, with the consciousness of time. And then he sees her notification.

He gets out of the kitchen as fast as he can. He leaves the glass; it does not seem to matter very much. He laces his shoes and fastens his bicycle helmet with trembling hands. He will not erase the message that he has one missed call, one new voicemail. If… Whatever has happened (is happening, will happen), he needs to be close to her.

Flynn is honked at more than once, as he speeds around corners, pedals with a fury that insists on his right of way. He cannot, he will not delay. Of course, there is nothing for him to do when he gets there. He has switched from repetitive cursing to desperate prayer. He thinks he might have left a bit out of the Our Father. There is always the simplest prayer of all: have mercy upon me, a sinner. It encapsulates everything: yes, this is more than justice; no, I do not deserve it; please. It feels strange, already-dangerous to be asking, when it has always been Lucy who has brought him mercy. Long ago Flynn stopped bothering to wonder whether it was on God’s behalf or her own. But now… now, he begs.

He is surrounded by weeping students, stern police, waiting ambulances. He knows he could get past the security lines. He could probably do it without them noticing, at first. And he’d probably get himself shot for his pains. And there would be no way of finding her, no way of making her safe. His bones and blood still ache to do so. In his pocket, his phone buzzes.

Rufus: No mention Rittenhouse police comms.

Flynn lets out a breath before replying. Thanks. Don’t get arrested.

He paces, the noises of helicopters and walkie-talkies and the distressed, uncertain crowds a distant cacophony, muffled by nearer birdsong, by his own rapid pulse. Finally he gives in. He acknowledges that he has seen the missed call. (She’ll be locked in. She’ll be in a lecture hall, or her office, or a closet. She’ll hate it.) He takes a breath. He presses play.

Hi, it’s me! I don’t need anything, I just… A puff of breath, and (he imagines) her fingers raked through her hair. I think my students have forgotten how to be students over the weekend. I haven’t looked for party hashtags; I don’t want to know. We were talking about transgressive spaces in the early republic today — how can they not find that interesting? He tries not to expect the sound of gunshots. I mean, says Lucy, it’s spies. Speaking of which, I should let you get back to translating for the cabal. Which is probably what you’re doing. Pour me wine tonight, says Lucy, her syllables drawling into indecency. Tell me I’m brilliant, hmm? Love you, genius. Are we doing Russian or French today? Ya lyublyu tebya. Je t’aime. Okay. Love you. Bye.

Flynn sits down on the pavement. He puts his head in his arms. He begs.

“Sir,” says a voice, “sir, you can’t be here.” He looks up. He calculates how long it would take him to flip this man onto his back. “Sir,” says the man, uneasy in his ill-fitting uniform, “we’re going to need this for an evacuation route; you can’t be here.”

Flynn stands up, and he does not stagger in standing. The tone of the crowd has changed; it is expectant; Flynn knows how easily it could change to hysteria. They have seen no arrest. They have seen no blood. They might yet. He stands still, making himself immovable, making himself impassive, a thing not to be drawn into the embraces, the anxiety, the fear.

There have been no audible gunshots since his arrival; he knows too much to find this consoling. Ambulances have gone; if she were on one of them, he would have gotten word. But if (if, if, if…) He cannot bring himself to complete the thought. It fractures into images: Lucy’s face, and her blood. Lucy’s face, and her blood.

The evacuees come shuffling. They come huddled, and silent, and clinging to each other. It is the group on the other side of the barrier that cries, and fills the air with the sound effects of sent messages, and breathes half-profane prayers. Flynn is silent.

He had imagined — he had allowed himself to imagine — shouting her name. He has been calling for her since before they were allies. He has called out to her across history. And now he cannot speak. She is pale, and she is barefoot, and she is (oh merciful God) alive. She has wept, but she is now composed. She has an arm around a student’s shoulders, and her battered briefcase in her other hand. Flynn breathes.

She is almost at the barrier when she sees him. He sees her lips part; he sees her soundless intake of breath. Obediently she follows in the semi-orderly procession, gives her name at the checkpoint. Only briefly does she take her eyes off him, speaking to the woman with the clipboard, reassuring her student. And when she is through, and free, Lucy starts to run. She stumbles a little on the asphalt, but she runs. He steps forward — a little unsteady, now — and opens his arms to her.

“I love you,” says Lucy into his ear. “I love you, I love you.”

“Ya lyublyu tebya vsem serdtsem.” He is overwhelmed by the scent of her hair. “You’re not hurt?”

“No,” says Lucy. “No, I — it wasn’t — we weren’t hurt.” A few tears soak into the fabric of his collar, and he tightens his arms around her. “I might just… cry on you anyway.”

“That’s fine,” says Flynn. “That’s fine, that’s… tout ira bien.” She shivers, and relaxes against him. “Voilà, c'est ça.”

“Can we…” says Lucy after a few minutes; she is still clinging to him. “Can we go home now?”

Flynn presses a kiss to her temple. “Yes,” he says. “Yes.”

#asks and answers #garcy ff #i just write angst and pain #is a tag that i have #why am i so emotionally invested? the answer is probably complicated

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sharedshield · 5 years

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Another prompt of my @badthingshappenbingo and another thing that I intended to be much shorter, but well. Also, I was prompted to write this one, thank you so much for that, and if any of you lovelies wants to see one of those ideas up there turned into a fic, feel free to ask.

Anyway, enjoy!!

Fandom: Timeless

Pairing: Garcy, there’s some background Wyjess too

Prompt: Communication Suddenly Cut Off

Couples get into fights. They do, it’s a healthy, human thing and most times they reconcile when they’ve calmed down.

Denise and Michelle fight, most times it’s about Denise’s job or the kids. Those are normal things.

Rufus and Jiya fight. About Star Wars and Star Trek, what take out to order and from which place. Sometimes, it’s about Jiya’s visions, sometimes it’s because Rufus acts carelessly on missions (and if Flynn is the snitch, well, nobody but Jiya and him has to know that).

Wyatt and Jessica fought. Often. About the army, about Wyatt not getting himself the help he needs, Delta Force, other guys. Now, that they’re at the bunker, they fight too. About Rittenhouse, about missions, about the baby.

Lucy and Garcia fight. Oh boy, and how they do. They’re both strong-willed people, stubborn and even though Garcia looks at Lucy like she hung the moon, he calls her out from time to time, doesn’t hold back when he thinks she’s wrong.

They don’t fight very often, but when the do it’s loud and it often ends with one of them storming away. They both sulk, give each other a cold shoulder for a few hours, maybe for a few days if it’s been particularly bad, but eventually the storm clouds dissipate and they find their way back to each other.

“You know what? Just do it, go, I don’t care. Go and get yourself killed if it’s not enough for you that it would at least affect me”, Lucy turns to storm off, but Garcia catches her hand before she’s out of reach.

“Lucy”, he pleads, most of the fight has already drained out of him, now he’s just tired wants her to understand. “I don’t want to go, I have to go. I’m the most capable to do it.”

“But you don’t have to go alone! Take at least Wyatt with you!” The suggestion to take Wyatt with him comes somehow reluctant. He’s still a wildcard concerning working with Garcia, which is, honestly, stupid.

“That wouldn’t make it any easier, Lucy. Plus, he still isn’t at a hundred percent yet.”

That’s true. Wyatt caught a bullet on the last mission, and no matter what he says, he still needs some time. But that doesn’t cool down Lucy’s anger.

“Then talk to Denise! Tell her you can’t do it like that!”

“Lucy”, Garcia says again, sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “We have to do it now. We have the information now, Rittenhouse doesn’t know we’re coming and the sooner we get to it, the more damage we can do.”

Denise had gotten information about a Rittenhouse location, they didn’t know for sure, but they’re pretty sure it’s where they store the Mothership. Denise couldn’t dispatch a unit of Homeland Security Agents, the risk ticking of a snitch, of a double agent working in the system was too high.

With Wyatt out of the game, Denise had to turn to Garcia. She wasn’t too comfortable with that, but it was the best choice they had.

“Do you even care?”, Lucy bellows now, so upset that tears are threatening to spill. “Do you even care that you could die doing this? Do you really want to give Rittenhouse the satisfaction to have killed every one of your family?”

It hurts, badly. And Lucy knows that. That’s why she said it. Because she can’t have him giving his life to Rittenhouse just like this.

“Lucy…”

Sometimes it seems her name is the only word Garcia remembers.

“Uh, guys?”, Rufus’ timid inquiry cuts through the heavy tension like a knife. “We should get this show on the road.”

“We’ll be right there”, Garcia promises and takes a step closer to Lucy, carefully caresses her arm. “I’m sorry, my love, I have to go. I promise I’ll be back in no time.”

He desperately searches for her eyes, but she turns away, moving away from his touch. It leaves him hollow.

Lucy joins the rest of the team a while after Flynn has left the bunker. She silently pulls a chair over to the improvised comm center, where a tiny screen shows a grainy picture of Garcia’s perspective and a pair of speakers transmit his voice.

From what she gathers, he’s almost at the location. Good for him.

“Y’know, Flynn”, Rufus mentions casually after shooting Lucy a cautious look, “Whenever Jiya and I get into a fight, I bring her something nice to apologize. Not to say that women are materialistic or something, but it usually is an appropriate gesture to show that you care.”

“Rufus, I’ve been married. I know how it works. Better than most husbands”, he utters a little self-deprecating laugh, and Lucy does her hardest not to smile. He doesn’t deserve a smile. Not now, not with this self-destructive behavior, not when he acts like it wouldn’t hurt her when something happens to him. Because something will happen to him, she knows it.

“I’ve arrived at the compound. Two men at the front gate. I’m going to try the back door.”

Lucy tries not to listen. The fear has already settled into her bones, she doesn’t need dread to form a tight ball in her stomach, she feels sick enough as it is.

Nevertheless, the noises from the speakers find their ways to her. Muffled gunshots, Garcia grunting as he drags the bodies into hidden spaces, his short and precise updates as he continues to fight his way into the building.

“I’m inside now”, he huffs eventually, Lucy has to strain to understand his words.

“Then you’re on your own.”

Denise’s words sound final. Lucy fights the urge to throw up.

Right now, she hates every person in this godforsaken bunker. She hates Denise for making him go on the assignment. She hates Wyatt for getting shot. She hates Rufus and Jiya for not convincing him to stay. She doesn’t know why she hates Connor, but Lucy’s sure she’ll find a reason.

“Sounds like there are people behind those doors”, Garcia says after he rummaged through an office space and several storage spaces of various sizes. Until now, he hasn’t found much, some weapons, some paperwork about employees and rented premises. No sign of the Mothership and, Lucy counts that as luck, no sign of Emma for now.

The doors his camera is pointed at are big enough to hide some sort of garage behind them, one that’s definitely big enough to store a time machine.

“Do you hear anything specific?”, Denise half obscures Lucy’s view of the screen and she barely keeps herself from shoving the agent away.

“No, it’s muffled. There are no other entryways but this gate.”

Denise takes a breath, thinks. Then she looks at Wyatt, who nods. Lucy wants to strangle him. Especially since it had been Garcia who dragged his unconscious ass back to the Lifeboat, after Emma decided to have a little fun with them.

“It’s your call.”

Lucy jumps up, her chair falls over with a deafening bang.

“Garcia-“

“I’ll do it.”

“No!-“

Wyatt grabs her wrist and pulls her back, blocks her sight, she hears Denise agreeing and wants to scream, to yell at him not to do it, to come back to her, but Wyatt presses his hand against her lips, muffling her words.

She fights him for a few seconds, in the background she hears how Garcia and Denise go over a last few details, claws at his hand until he pulls her to his chest, presses her flush against his warm body.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! But he’ll be distracted if he hears you. He needs to concentrate”, Wyatt whispers and Lucy stills. She knows he’s right and buries her face in his shirt, tries to block out the noises from the speaker. But with closed eyes they only become clearer.

“I’m going in.”

The doors open, for a moment everything is silent. Then unintelligible voices, Garcia starts to say something, but his voice is drowned out by the firing of guns.

Lucy freezes. She grabs Wyatt’s shirt a little tighter.

Suddenly, static.

Wyatt turns, takes Lucy with him, they stare at the screen, it’s dark safe for the flashing of the guns. It turns completely black after another two seconds.

“Get me those comms up and working now!”

Jiya, Rufus and Connor jump into motion, frantically press buttons, yell tech gibberish at each other, but nothing they do works. The screen remains black, static crackling fills the air.

Lucy leaves.

It’s twenty minutes later when Jessica knocks at the unfamiliar steel door. She has never so much as looked at it before.

Without waiting for an answer, she opens it and finds Lucy sitting on ground, leaning against the frame of hers and Flynn’s shared bed. She’s also never been inside the room but isn’t surprised by what’s in front of her. It exactly depicts its owners, books stacked on every available surface but there’s a certain tidiness to it. Some gun stuff, concealed, but Jess knows what to look for. Little to no personal effects.

She sits down beside Lucy.

“Did the others send you?”

“No.”

It’s the truth, they didn’t. Currently they’re worrying over Flynn’s position and Wyatt tries to convince Christopher to let him lead a team to get the Croat back.

She decided for herself to come, to look after Lucy, because, finally, this is something she can do, something she’s good at. Something she’s used to.

“How did you do it?”, Lucy asks eventually.

Jess shrugs. “You learn to get used to it. You distract yourself. You try not to think about it so much. Because that’s what gets to you. The what ifs and maybes. I used to think about all the stuff we’d do once Wyatt was home. Maybe it’s not the healthiest way to cope. But it worked for me.”

Lucy tries to distract herself, tries not to think about him.

She chats with Jess for a while and is pleasantly surprised by how pleasant her company is. The blonde tells her a little from when she met Wyatt at high school, of their tiny wedding which was everything they could’ve wished for. She keeps it light.

And for some time, it works. Then reality slams back into Lucy, full force, and she is reminded that they, her and Garcia, may never have any of this. That their love could die in this bunker.

She can’t breathe and finds herself over the toilet, retching. Wyatt is there (where did he come from?) and rubs her back softly. Others are there too, they take turns watching her, as if they need to keep her from drowning herself in the toilet.

In the middle of the night, Lucy wanders the cold and empty hallways and stops at the front door.

He will come through that damn door, she tells herself. He will, and then I’ll punch the living daylights out of him.

He does.

There’s metal clanking and banging, it rises Lucy out of the exhausted slumber she’s slipped in, and then he’s standing in the doorway, blocking it almost completely with his heavy gear and an enormous bouquet of wild flowers and a box with a ribbon.

Lucy doesn’t care, she makes him drop it all when she jumps into his arms, she also doesn’t care about the blood covering one side of his face when she kisses him.

Because he’s home and the storm clouds are gone.

#timeless #badthingshappenbingo #garcy #garcia flynn #lucy preston #writing #fic

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