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spookbusters · 3 years

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Space Age Love Song

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend is never really easy, but it can be so worth it.

Pairing: Ray Stantz x astronomist!Reader // Warnings: bit of manipulative ex // Words: 2.2k

A/N: The process of writing these over the last few months was so intense, but it was so worth it. It was truly a work of the heart, and I hope you all love it as much as I do.

You met in 1982, almost two full years before Ghostbusters were even a thing, in a hallway on campus at Columbia University. It was almost two in the morning.

You’d seen each other before in passing in the Chem and Physics building, on long nights, but you’d never spoken before.

All you really knew about him was that he had the sweetest smile you’d ever seen.

It was both of your first years out of your PhDs.

You had gotten a job at the school right out of the gate teaching incoming freshman.

From what you knew, he was working in an on-campus parapsychology research lab with two other graduates.

One of whom he had a second, parachemistry lab with.

You were working on some diagrams for the freshman students you’d be teaching that semester.

They were spread all over the wall in front of your office, since you’d run out of space in your tiny broom closet.

You had your Walkman in your pocket, your favorite tape on blast, and flecks of paint on your glasses.

Your budget from the university couldn’t cover largely scaled, full-color pictures of the recent Voyager 2 Saturn discoveries, so you had taken it upon yourself to scale them yourself and paint them for your students to see.

Ray was on his way out of the lab that night, after having worked on developing some negatives and going over some tapes while Venkman (who was supposed to be helping) snoozed in his office chair.

He noticed from across the hallway how frenzied you were working and was genuinely surprised by how much energy you seemed to have.

When he got a little closer, you finally noticed him out of the corner of your eye.

You offered him a smile he’d seen several times before, a little bashful, but ultimately warm and very kind.

You tried to shimmy out of the way so he could get by you and your yellow, orange, and brown paints without much incident.

Now that he was closer, he could see your paintings. He noticed the mess on your hands, the brush tucked into your ear.

And he was in awe.

When he didn’t pass you by as you expected him to, you looked at him.

He was talking!! You hadn’t been paying attention!!

You pulled your headphones off your ears, and his voice suddenly flooded in to replace the music.

“-taken you to do this?”

He must’ve noticed the way your music was suddenly audible, because he suddenly redirected his attention from the painting to you, gave a light chuckle and gestured to your Walkman.

“Sorry! Couldn’t see the headphones, they kind of blended in with your hair.”

You returned his laugh.

You explained your situation to him, and the reasons behind your painting.

He thinks it’s incredible. Not just your artistic skill, but also your dedication to your students.

That is the moment the two of you are formally introduced.

You stand there and chat for a few minutes, and eventually part ways.

But that’s not the last time you talk. Not by a long shot.

You see him a few more times to and from your class, and instead of just offering a smile, you always shoot him a “Hi, Ray!”

He likes seeing you, truth be told. You always have an infectiously positive energy about you.

After a while, he finds he likes it so much, he stops to say hey to you even when he’s just passing by your open office door.

You’re mostly acquaintances, but there are often times you find yourself wanting to get to know him more.

Like when you see him just absolutely gunning it down the hallway past your open office door with a colander on his head. Or the time you could hear a muffled ‘boom’ from the lab down the hall, followed by a similarly muffled cry of “Success!”

The day you’d finally begin your friendship would come a couple weeks later.

When he passed by your office, you were bent over your desk grading quizzes, looking stressed out of your mind. Your students just weren’t getting the material and you were wondering

The sight stirred concern in him.

“Hey,” he’d said, and you’d look up at him with tired eyes. He looked just as exhausted. “I’m headed out to get a coffee. Do you want to come?”

You accepted.

It was all uphill from there.

He told you some of the best jokes you’d ever heard, and you inspired a lot of dedication in him.

You became close with him, and you’d spend a lot of time in each other’s labs.

It wasn’t until you met the girl he’d started dating after you got to know him that you finally admitted to yourself that you had feelings for him.

It was so hard. Not just admitting it to yourself that you had fallen for him like a boulder in the ocean, but seeing him as happy as he was.

Her name was Suzanne, and they’d end up being together for almost 7 months.

Around Ray you’d think she was the sweetest thing.

But when he’d leave you with her to go grab something from somewhere, she was bitter and catty.

She couldn’t stand how much time the two of you spent together.

You’d often sigh when you thought about them together. How wrong it was.

She didn’t deserve him, and he was such a sweetheart willing to give people the benefit of the doubt that he didn’t notice how thick her façade was.

Part of you didn’t want to tell him about any of your interactions with her. You didn’t want to be responsible for ruining things for him.

But, your better judgement knew that that wasn’t right.

So, you talked to him about how she’d been acting with you during their time together.

He trusted you, and decided to talk to Suzanne about it.

The next day, he came back to your office, and you instantly knew the conversation hadn’t gone well.

His face was sullen in a way you’d never seen before, and it worried you.

You sat together for some coffee to talk it over.

Apparently, she became extremely defensive when he tried to talk to her about it.

As time went on while they were talking, he became increasingly aware of how controlling and toxic she was.

He also realized he really wasn’t as happy as he had thought he was.

They broke it off.

He actually thanked you for taking the time to talk to him the way you did.

It was a bitter-sweet moment, but it reinforced your friendship.

It took a while for Ray to heal, but when he did, he was happier than he ever was.

You were happy that he was happy. Truly happy.

You’d also given yourself time to come to terms with the fact that you were in love with him.

You were hesitant to tell him, afraid of ruining your friendship which was so dear to you.

But, deep down, you knew you’d have to tell him eventually.

One day he came to you talking about something he’d be working on that weekend.

One of Ray’s friends, Egon, told Ray about a meteor shower that could potentially generate crazy amounts of energy.

“You’re the resident star-gazer,” he said with a kind, eye-twinkling smile, “Would you want to come see it with me? I wanted to get some readings when it’s going on.”

And, God, if you weren’t completely crazy about him before, you certainly were now.

You agreed instantly.

That weekend, you two packed up the back of the 70s Chevy truck Ray inherited from his dad, and headed out to Allegany State Park for the night.

The roadtrip alone would be ingrained in your mind for the rest of your life.

You guys sang along to the radio the whole time, cracking jokes in the afternoon sun, and talking about anything and everything you could think of.

When you got to the park, that sweet, light-hearted energy lived on.

You were pretty much in the middle of nowhere, parked next to a ridge that overlooked the rest of the park.

You spent the first few hours hanging out, having some drinks out of the cooler you’d brought, and setting things up for the night ahead.

You’d brought your best telescope, Ray’s equipment for his readings, a radio, and some blankets for when the spring night began to chill.

You were having such a good time that you barely noticed the way the sun was almost completely below the horizon.

You were really only made aware when your watch alarm started beeping.

“Oh, hey,” you muttered, “It should be starting soon!”

As the sun set further and the sky turned dark, the two of you sat curled up waiting for the first meteors to streak across the night.

At the first sign of a meteor, Ray’s electrical equipment starts beeping off the charts, and you could swear you'd never seen him so excited.

He’s all but jumping between his electronics, noting to himself the various measurements of a form of energy that you didn’t completely understand.

It only takes him about an hour to get what he needs.

“Do you want to go home,” you ask, and you hoped with all your heart that he’d say no.

And he did. “Actually, I was thinking we could stay here a little longer. Enjoy the view for a little bit, if you want to.”

“Yeah, I’d love to,” you’d reply, and when he grinned at you, your heart warmed.

You both retired yourself to the bed of the truck, curled up in the blankets and just watching the streaks cross the sky.

You’d turned on the radio, and were passing a thermos of hot chocolate between the two of you.

You’d seen at least a few dozen celestial events in your life so far, but you’d never experienced one that had made you feel the way you did in that moment.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever really asked why you got into all this,” he’d say, gesturing to the meteor shower.

“Hmm,” you mused, “No, I don’t think you have, actually.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly, silently urging you to go on.

And, of course, you do.

“When I was little, on a trip to Arizona, my family went out to the middle of nowhere, and I do mean nowhere,” you explained, “And when we got away from all the light pollution, it was still so bright outside from all the stars you could see.”

When you turned to look at him, he was staring right at you. You felt your face flush.

“I just remember wanting to learn everything I could about outer space,” you finished, “I’d never seen something so beautiful.”

When he looked back up at the stars, you leaned over and put your head on his shoulder, and you smiled.

You didn’t want this moment to ever end.

The two of you spend some time quiet, just listening to the songs softly play over the radio.

A Flock of Seagulls comes on and you smile.

You absentmindedly hum along.

He slowly reaches an arm around your shoulders.

He’s hoping you don’t really notice.

You totally notice.

Doesn’t take long for you to start singing under your breath.

"Saw your eyes, and they touched my mind. Though it took a while, I was falling in love.”

But it’s the soft muttered question of your name that really captures your attention.

You lift your head from his shoulder to look at him and you can swear that you’d never seen that look in his eyes before.

“Is everything ok,” you ask, concern tinting your tone.

You brushed your fingers across his cheekbone, and he all but leaned into your palm. The eyes that look back at you are stormy. Conflicted.

“You know I could never ask of you what I want to ask you,” he sighed. “You’re one of my best friends and I never want to lose having you in my life.”

The words nearly made you cry.

“You don’t have to ask,” you sniffled.

When you kissed him, it felt like coming home. It was warm and grounding.

Now you were crying. When you took a breath again you were crying and laughing.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” you confessed, your heart about ready to leap out of your chest. It nearly does when you hear him whisper, “Me too.”

The two of you spend the remainder of the night talking about whatever you can think of and giving small chuckles against one another’s lips.

You feel like you’re on cloud nine.

You decide to head home about an hour later, packing up the truck and watching light streak across the windshield as you drive out of the park.

“This view was really something,” you say, smiling with your head leaning against the window.

And, as he looked at you in his passenger seat, holding one of his hands while he drove, he felt his heart swell with all the love he had for you.

“I had two beautiful views tonight.”

#Ray Stantz #ray stantz x reader #ray stantz headcanons #ghostbusters ray stantz x reader #ghostbusters #ghostbusters 2 #ghostbusters headcanons #ghostbusters x reader

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rookie-ramsey · 3 years

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Across the Universe, Chapter One

Description: All the medical training in the world couldn’t prepare Ethan for a terminal brain cancer diagnosis.

Warning: Major angst and eventual character death ahead.

Preview: “Ethan? What is it?”

Ethan didn’t meet her eyes. When he spoke, she had to lean closer to hear him. “Glioblastoma multiforme.”

The weight of his words almost took her breath away. Her chest tightened as she tried to convince herself she’d heard wrong. “That’s… that’s terminal…”

He was always the first one to wake up.

Ethan awoke before his alarm, to the early rays of sun bathing the room in soft golden light. He stifled a yawn and opened his eyes. His body curled around Olivia’s, his arm draped over the curve of her waist, the same way they’d fallen asleep.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. She’d been living in his apartment for over a month and each morning he still awoke in awe that he got to wake up with the woman he’d been longing for lying next to him.

Ever the heavy sleeper, she remained peacefully oblivious to his gaze fixated on her. Ethan pressed a soft kiss to the back of her head and quietly slipped out of bed. He made his way into the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker. As he started breakfast, he heard the alarm ringing in the bedroom.

A couple minutes later, Olivia shuffled into the kitchen, yawning and wearing Ethan’s shirt from the evening before.

“Morning,” she yawned. She hugged him from behind, squeezing his waist and pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Something smells good. I assume it’s not pancakes.”

“Hilarious. I made eggs.”

“Not as good as pancakes, but it’ll do,” she teased, helping herself to a serving and taking a seat.

“I suppose it’ll have to. I don’t think pancakes will become a reality anytime soon.” Ethan reached into the cabinet and found the bottle of aspirin.

Olivia frowned when he swallowed a dose with a sip of water. “Is your head bothering you?”

“A little bit, but it’s not serious.”

Unconvinced, she watched him closely. “You wouldn’t be taking anything for it if you weren’t really uncomfortable. That’s the second headache you’ve had this week. They’ve both happened early in the morning, too.”

Ethan leaned down and kissed her. “Don’t worry about it.”

“If I were the one having headaches out of nowhere, you’d be nagging me.”

“That’s… not inaccurate,” Ethan admitted.

Olivia rolled her eyes, but dropped the argument. After breakfast, they dressed and left for work. Hand in hand, they walked into the hospital, crossing the atrium and making their way upstairs.

Ethan fought to suppress a groan when they found Bloom already waiting for them. “How can we help you?”

“I just thought I’d drop in to see how the case is going.”

“As expected. The latest test results ruled out several possible causes. We have another set of tests to run today,” Ethan explained as Baz and Tobias joined them.

“Ah. And is there a chance those can be expedited? Our patient’s willing to pay for faster results.”

Annoyed, Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. “The tests take a few hours. We’re not going to sacrifice quality to save a few minutes.”

“I see. I hope this team keeps solving cases the way you have been, because we have plenty of interest!”

“Fantastic. If you don’t mind, we have work to do,” Ethan dismissed. “Now that we’ve already been sufficiently bothered, let’s discuss the next steps,” he instructed when Bloom left the office.

XXXXXX

At the end of the day, Olivia clocked out and found Ethan in his office. He had his attention buried in their patient’s test results and didn’t seem to notice her entrance.

“Ready to go?”

Ethan looked up from the patient file on his desk. Nodding, he set it aside. “Yes. I’m on the verge of going cross-eyed from paperwork.”

“Sounds like you need a distraction.”

“Are you volunteering?”

“Maybe.” She grinned and winked, earning a low chuckle in response. “Let’s get out of here.”

As Ethan stood up and reached for his jacket, he felt the dull ache from earlier returning to his temples. He winced involuntarily.

The motion didn’t go unnoticed. Olivia frowned. “Another headache?”

Ethan shrugged. “It’s from stress. I can’t help but notice they seem to strike when Bloom meddles in our work.”

She gave him a sharp look. “It worries me. I think you need to have it checked out.”

Ethan shook his head as he slipped into his jacket. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“Aren’t you the one who always says not to ignore any symptoms, because they could be part of a bigger picture?” Olivia countered, gently poking her finger into his chest.

At her adamance, Ethan smiled wistfully. “I should have known you would learn to use my own advice against me.”

“Yes, you should have. And you should get some scans. Even if the scans are completely normal, it helps us figure out what is or isn’t causing your headaches.”

Ethan arched a brow, mildly amused at the sincerity of her voice. “You sound remarkably like me.”

She smiled softly, but the determination didn’t leave her eyes. “We have state of the art MRI machines. Let me do one for you. Even if it shows up completely normal, it wouldn’t be a waste of time since we’d be able to rule out some causes.”

“I think I’ve created a monster.”

Olivia tried not to laugh. “Yes, you have. But you know I’m right."

There was no sign of her giving up, so Ethan sighed in defeat and nodded. “Fine.”

Satisfied, Olivia leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. Ethan leaned into it, deepening it for just a moment before she pulled back and flashed a teasing smile that made his heart skip.

“Let’s do your MRI now while nobody’s using the labs. Nobody would ever know. It would be our not so dirty little secret.”

Ethan rolled his eyes but followed her in the direction of the MRI labs. “Now’s as good a time as any. Might as well get it out of the way.” He followed her down the hallway and to the MRI room, empty this time of evening.

When they stepped into the lab, Olivia closed the door. “You know what to do. Take off anything with buttons or zippers, so… strip.”

Ethan stripped down to his underwear. He sat down on the MRI table and leaned back. Olivia took a seat in the observation room and turned on one of the computer monitors. Then she pressed the button to start the scans.

Seconds later, the machine started. Ethan held still as the machine whirred with noise. “Anything?”

“The image is just starting. And… there. Nice and clear. I’ll take a look and-“ When a spot of light caught her eye, Olivia froze. She leaned closer and felt her heart quicken when she saw an illuminated shape on the scan.

Her silence spoke louder than words. Ethan frowned. “What is it?”

Olivia bit her lip, a hard lump forming in her throat. “There’s… there’s a tumor. Near the back of your frontal lobe. It’s close to the base of your skull.”

Ethan fell quiet as he took in her words. He barely contained a sharp breath. “Print the scans. I want to see them.”

Olivia processed the prints and ended the MRI. Once Ethan slipped back into his clothes, she handed him the films. She met his eyes for a brief moment, but he diverted his glance before she could get a read on him.

Ethan pinned the scans to the backlight and stared at them. Sure enough, a spot illuminated. “The shape isn’t particularly distinctive.”

“You’ll need a biopsy to determine what type it is.” Olivia gingerly rested her hand on his arm and hesitated before she spoke. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I’ll schedule a biopsy and work on determining if it’s operable.”

“That’s not what I meant…”

Ethan hesitated, not taking his eyes off of the MRI films. “I know. But there’s no point in getting worked up until we have a definite answer.”

She tried to take reassurance in his words. Letting out a long breath, she focused on everything she’d learned since med school. “There’s a seventy to ninety percent chance it’s benign. Let’s get your biopsy scheduled right away so we don’t waste time.”

“Right.” Ethan nodded tightly. “I’ll find somewhere else to have it done. I don’t want the entire hospital knowing until I know exactly what’s going on.”

“Okay... “ Olivia slipped her hand into his and squeezed. After a moment, he responded, curling his fingers around her hand. She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb and looked up, her eyes locking with his. His gaze remained almost unreadable, but she could just barely detect the worry he tried to mask.

Ethan cleared his throat and removed the films from the illuminator. He slipped them into an envelope and tucked it under his arm. “I’ll make some calls in the morning.”

“Alright.” Taking his hand again, Olivia urged him out of the room. Silence fell between them as they left the hospital. Neither of them spoke until they were settled in Ethan’s car and he pulled out of the parking lot. “Are you okay?”

Ethan nodded. “Like you said, there’s a seventy to ninety percent chance that it’s operable and benign.”

Whether he was trying to convince her or himself, he didn’t know.

XXXXXX

True to his word, Ethan made some calls and arranged for a biopsy two days later. He didn’t want to get people worked up too soon, so he ruled out Edenbrook and Kenmore and scheduled the procedure at Mass General.

He took days off so rarely that he knew Naveen suspected something when he filed for a day off on Friday, but the older man didn’t push him for information.

The procedure went simply enough, the only evidence of it being the small spot on his scalp that had been shaved and sutured. Once he combed his hair over the spot, it was unnoticeable. Nobody questioned his absence and Ethan planned to keep it that way.

Four days after the biopsy, Mass General called him to retrieve his results. Ethan picked them up on his lunch break. He couldn’t bring himself to open the envelope right away. It was ridiculous, he knew, but he didn’t open the envelope until he got back to his office.

Ethan’s hand hesitated over the envelope seal. He groaned and chided himself. Waiting and worrying wouldn’t change a thing, so he sent Olivia a text before he tore open the envelope and read the paper inside.

Reacting to the message the second her phone chimed, Olivia rushed to his office. She closed the door behind her. Immediately something felt off and the color drained from her face when she took in Ethan’s absent expression.

“Ethan? What is it?”

Ethan didn’t meet her eyes. When he spoke, she had to lean closer to hear him. “Glioblastoma multiforme.”

The weight of his words almost took her breath away. Her chest tightened as she tried to convince herself she’d heard wrong. “That’s… that’s terminal…”

Time slowed to a crawl. Neither of them spoke or moved. Olivia’s head spun as she rushed to him and hugged him tight. At first, Ethan didn’t respond. After several moments, the tension slowly eased from his body and he leaned into her.

“What else do you know?” she whispered. “Maybe it’s early enough that they can get it removed.”

Ethan shook his head almost imperceptibly. “It’s inoperable. Since it’s grown into the brain tissue, complete removal would never be possible. The only option would be a partial removal and treatments that might shrink what’s left.”

The words left his mouth just as he would have recited them to a patient. But they felt peculiar, as if they carried no meaning. Maybe some part of him didn’t think this was real, or maybe he needed time to process, he didn’t know for sure.

“Oh god…” Olivia let out a shaky sigh and took a deep breath. Determination set into her eyes. She tightened her arms around him. “We’ll get you a second opinion. You never know.”

“Anybody else is going to say the same thing.”

“You don’t know,” Olivia repeated. We can ask Harper. She knows this better than anyone in the country. Maybe she’ll know of something else you can do.”

Ethan shook his head. “No. I don’t want to tell anyone else yet.”

“Ethan…”

“I mean it,” he insisted. “Until I know what the next step is, I want this to stay between us.” Uncertainty crept into his eyes, but it vanished as soon as it began. He cupped Olivia’s cheek in his hand and urged her closer, stealing a soft kiss. Ethan leaned into it, taking some comfort in the tenderness of it.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Olivia surrendered reluctantly. She gave him one more kiss as he stood up. Before he could leave the room, she touched his hand. “Promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“You won’t shut me out. I… I know you need time to think about this. It’s… I can’t wrap my mind around it yet, so I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you. Just promise me you’ll talk to me when you’re ready.”

His features softened a little and he nodded. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” Olivia waited until he left the room. Then she found the extra set of scans she’d kept, the ones she’d removed his name from. Anxiety gripped her heart as she tucked the envelope under her arm and made her way to Harper’s office.

Next Chapter

Note: This is a re-write of my series (under the same title) that I originally wrote in 2019 and never finished. I’m deleting the original one. I have my reasons for putting Tobias on the team and keeping Harper in her original job. Stay tuned!

Tags, part 1

@princess-geek / @lapisreviewsstuff / @silverlitskies / @paulfwesley / @dr-brianna-casey-valentine / @junehiratas / @choicesstanblog / @trappedinfandoms / @justanotherrookie / @bellcat2010 / @desmaranj / @lion-ess24 / @nooruleman / @caseyvalentineramsey / @xee-na / @edith-eggs1 / @oofchoices / @schnitzelbutterfingers / @tefigranger / @jlynn12273 / @laceandlula / @crazy-loca-blog / @somegdchoices / @briefdreamlanddream / @forthebrokenheartedthings / @lilyvalentine / @parkerattano / @drramseysownsme / @misswhit12 / @drethanfreakingramsey / @juneiswriting / @macy-ray85 / @swimmingauthordreamerbonk / @myusualnerdyself / @siaramsey / @takemyopenheart / @queencarb

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #tw: cancer #cancer tw #death tw #tw: death

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eyitsroseau · 3 years

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Across the World Part 2 (Dr. Xeno dad! x Reader) Dr. Stone fanfic | A mini-series

In which you found out you were pregnant pre-petrification to your long time boyfriend NASA scientist, Xeno. However, when you told him the news, he wanted nothing to do with it because his top priority is his research. Hurt, you decided to find refuge and start anew in the country you have always wanted to live in, Japan. Post-petrification and Senku announced they'll be traveling to America. As you have lived there before, they took you and your one-year-old daughter along. Now, thousands of years later, you'll find yourself face to face with the man who had hurt you the most across the world.

Part 1

Part 3

Xeno can never forget the first time he saw you- not that he ever wants to. He was late for a convention and the traffic isn't helping either. To his folly, he decided to reach the venue by walking. He is well aware that his body is not in its perfect condition and the sun's heat will make him eventually pass out.

And he did. That was not his proudest moment. He knows he can just call the program director and cover him for a while. But his intuition told him to go out. His intuitions are never wrong.

That's when he met you- him passed out and you- a nurse passing by. You immediately called for an ambulance and assessed your then patient. He's having a fever and you guessed that the heat precipitated his condition.

In the middle of your assessments, he briefly regained consciousness. He was sure then that he saw an angel.

Well, that angel turned out to be the nurse in charge of him. He was way too overjoyed but you on the other hand are pissed. His obvious flirting gets on your nerves and won't let you work in peace.

But as days go by, you are slowly getting used to his antics. It even saddened you when he is discharged. You thought you will never see him again.

Oh, how wrong you were. Because every day, he passes by the hospital to greet and bring you food. Efforts like this make a woman's heart melt.

And so, after five months of getting to know each other, the two of you officially became a couple. It was the happiest day of Xeno's life.

9 months into your relationship, you both decided to move in together. There, you learned a lot about each other- all the good and the bad. Your relationship was not perfect. You sometimes fight but neither of you let the day end without making up. After all, makeup sex is the best.

So when did everything changed? Xeno knows the truth, of course. He was stressed and overworked. Multiple projects have been forced on him and the pressure is starting to grip on him like vines.

It was not right to dump all his frustrations at you but he can't help it. There are nights when he can't go home as he is still completing his formulas. Add to that, he feels everything is irritating.

So when, one day. When you told him the big news, he was just being honest. A baby? In the middle of all of this? He doesn't want it.

At first, that is.

He finds himself not concentrating at his work because he's distracted. A vision of you, him and your child would often pop in his mind. And to be honest, he loves it the more he thinks about it.

He suddenly became energized. He miraculously finished everything he needed to be done that day. There's a kick to his steps as he bounded with a hum along the way. His co-workers are a bit startled by the change in his attitude. Not a long while, he was snapping at everyone. But now, he even smiles and wishes them a nice weekend.

He even went to a flower shop to buy your favorite flowers. He ordered your favorite food in your favorite restaurant. He knows he had hurt you and he will surely make it up to you. He will tell you that he's with you and he can't wait to be a father.

But, he never did. The moment he stepped inside your shared apartment, he dropped those precious flowers. He instantly knew.

You are gone, taking along with you the visions of his future.

Xeno did not waste any time. He called his detective friend, Daisuke. And in a matter of seconds, he found out you are headed to Japan. Relief washed over him as he now knows you're safe. He will finish his works then he will come after you.

And again, he never did. There is a lot of troubleshooting that needs to be done because his assistants messed up a lot. Not only that, the government assigned him to study the stone phenomenon in sparrows.

When he arrived at a hypothesis, he gathered all the national leaders. He would get this done and over with so he can board on a plane and be with you when the petrification starts.

But it seems that luck is never on his side. The bright light appeared sooner than he thought. And right there and then, in the meeting with the leaders, he turned to stone.

He keeps his mind busy. Counting each second, days, weeks, months, and years. He would reminisce about your moments together. Sometimes, daydream about your family.

After one thousand years later, he knew that the world will never be the same again if mankind would be revived.

Two thousand years in, he starts strategizing what to do for him to start again if he breaks out of this stone.

Three thousand years later, he wills himself to wake up in the springtime so he can gather food and have the best rate of survival.

Finally, 3,700 years later, he is depetrified. He didn't waste time gathering resources for him to survive.

The universe might have pitied him from all the wrong timings he had in his life that they gifted him the precious power of platinum. With that, he was able to build his kingdom of science.

Now that he can create weapons, boats, and airplanes, he is ready to sail across the world to find you. He will not leave any stone unturned. Heck, he'll even dig the whole of Japan just to find you. Hopefully, he can also find his child.

He's sure that his child would be over a year old by the time the world has been petrified. He can't wait to be finally reunited with you. He will do what it takes to make it up to you even if it's thousands of years too late. He loves you and the child he never met more than anything.

And again, luck has never been on his side because Senku's troops stopped him from setting sail that day. He can't leave his Kingdom in this state. After all, this is where his family will live someday. He has to protect this home first.

But alas, the universe is a conniving bastard. He didn't expect to meet you, 3,700 years later in a yacht and in Senku's team.

He has been speechless the moment he gazed on the white-haired little girl in your arms.

It was a little girl, huh? His... daughter.

He felt tears prick his eyes upon seeing the child that is a result of your love for each other.

"I guess you never want me."

It hurts every single cell in his body upon hearing his daughter say that. He was left standing there, seeing his family leave again. For so many years, he had practiced what to say and do the moment he'll find you. But, all words had left him

He was about to follow you but his mentee stopped him.

"Leave them for a while. Xenka-chan's an intelligent girl but she's still a child. Let her be comforted by her mother," Senku advised his mentor.

Xeno sighed and knew that the boy is right. He might make the situation worse than it already is. He plopped right back on the sofa he's sitting on a while ago.

"Xenka, huh," he muttered.

"I know right? It seems that Y/N-san does really love you. She named her child after you," Senku grinned at him.

"Our child," he corrected the young scientist.

"Kukuku. Do you want information about them? I can give it to you plus, I'll help you win them over," of course, Senku has his villain face on while saying that.

Xeno knows that there's no helping it. After all, his and Senku's objective is the same- kind of. He will set aside everything just to find his way back into his family. Now that they're here, he will work his ass for you and Xenka's forgiveness.

"What's your condition?" he finally asked and Senku looked like he won the jackpot.

"Ah, do you know that she's just one and a half years old but she correctly guessed the formula and ingredients to the revival fluid just by sniffing them. She even deduced its function. Man, your child is seriously a genius," Senku goes on and on.

On the other hand, Xeno has integrated everything his mentee told him. It appears that Xenka has taught herself language from her memories with her mother. Then, she went to learn all kinds of sciences from the books she happened to scan as a yet clueless baby.

His baby girl has kept her mind active for thousands of years that it didn't surprise him to know that she has depetrified herself first.

According to Senku, his daughter has been his little assistant. Supplying him with what she's learned over the years.

"To be honest, she's almost on my level and she's just almost two. Wait until she grows up a bit and I'm sure she'll be living in the lab. It irritates her how small her body is to do anything," the two men chuckled.

"Oh, I bet once she can grasp the flasks and beakers well, she's on to her experiments. She's surely my daughter," Xeno said with a smile on his face. He could never be more than proud.

"The only problem is how to approach them," he muttered, feeling down once again.

"Don't sweat the little details that much. Xenka will surely gravitate to your intelligence and you'll have her talking to you in no time. Now, it is Y/N that you should be thinking about," Senku rose from his seat, looking at the other scientist in his room. An evil grin forming on his sinful lips.

"Chrome, go get Xenka,"

The little squirt has a frown on her face after finding herself tied to a chair. She was dragged away from her mother after her afternoon nap and she doesn't want to spend it with the man who had abandoned them.

"Listen here, Xenka-chan. I've strucked a deal with your father so you have to listen to him," Senku said patting the girl's head.

She looked the other way and pouted, "how can you sell me like that, oniisan?"

Senku chuckled at this, "it's not like you know everything, now don't you? But don't worry we didn't plan to force you to listen to him,"

Xenka rolled her eyes, "I'm tied to a chair. If this isn't using force then I don't what is," she deadpanned.

Xeno can't help but smile. Surely enough, his daughter inherited his intelligence but also her mother's stubbornness.

"Oh, you'll want to talk to him after this," Senku mischievously grinned at his 'little sister'. He knows exactly how to get the interest of this child.

"Oi, my dear mentor, are you ready to calculate and pinpoint where exactly the petrification beam started?"

That piqued the interest of the little girl.

After two hours of theorizing and calculating, the two had determined the exact location of what they're looking for. The two scientists stared at each other in silence before grinning and high fived each other.

In the small corner of the room, Xenka has her eyes widened, sparkling bright stars littered in her black depths.

"That- that was. I never heard anything like it," she breathed still in a daze after witnessing a thorough and scientific conversation like that. It made her heart beat fast and her curiosity about her father broadens.

"How is it Xenka?" Xeno courageously asked his child. Noting that this is the first time he's ever interacting with her.

Xenka hesitates. She doesn't want to talk to him because before he had hurt her, he hurt her precious mama first. However, her oniisan said that she doesn't know the entirety of the story. With her trust in her oniisan, she decided to give her father the benefit of the doubt.

The little girl looked to the side with a frown and a pout, "I guess you're not that b-bad," she says, a small blush already taking her cheeks.

This filled Xeno's heart with warmth and hope. He feels giddy and wants to empress her daughter more.

"Do you want to discuss aerodynamics with me?" Xeno asked.

The girl's head immediately snapped to his, eyes bright like a sparkling diamond, "let's start with Newton's third law of motion,"

The afternoon dragged on with the father and daughter droning on and on about rocket science.

It was already dinner time and you had not seen even the shadow of Xenka. She was dragged earlier by Chrome to see Senku and you knew that it has something to do with her father.

You sighed, you know your daughter well. If Xeno runs his mouth about anything related to Science then your daughter is done for. She's a sucker for intelligent people and there's no way she'll pass up the opportunity of talking to her dad.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you heard little giggles coming your way. There, in the hallway, you are faced with Xeno holding your daughter in his arms. Just like what you had imagined for a long time. It pains you and yet it flutters happiness in your heart. This is like a dream.

"Mama!"

Xeno's eyes snapped on you when he heard his daughter call you. You, on the other hand, felt overly conscious under his scrutinizing gaze. He noted how you have become even more beautiful since the last time he had seen you.

"Xenka, dinner's ready. You have to eat. Come here to mama," you coaxed your child, wanting to go away far from the man.

"No, mama! I want to be with papa! There's still a lot of stories I want to hear." You sighed. She already calls him papa, huh? That was quick.

"Mama, it's alright now. Papa explained to me already. He said he didn't want me at first but he changed his mind. He even went and bought you flowers and your favorite food so he can ask for your forgiveness and makeup with you that day. But mama, you had already left," you are taken aback by what your daughter stated.

You don't know what to feel or say.

"Well, he can just message me or approach me. Why didn't he?" You spat, feeling the bitterness rise again.

Your daughter scoffed at you, "mama, papa has like twenty projects at that time. As a scientist, I can understand why he has not contacted you though it kinda hurts but still. I know that he loves us and wants to be with us, mama," your daughter asked her father to be put down.

She went to you and hugged your knee, "Mama, I know we can't change what happened and I'm not invalidating how you feel. But, we have been through so much and even then, the three of us woke up in the same era and we even reunited. Aren't our family lucky to have found each other? Please think about it, mama. I know you have forgiven him a long time ago and you still love him," you are amazed at how you're precious daughter had spoken as if she's already older than you. Well, truly she is way too mature for her age of one year.

Xeno, on the other hand, can't believe how his daughter can sprout out those words. He feels so proud and yet at the same time he had hoped he had seen his little girl when she was still a blubbering mess. But, well, this is who Xenka is now, and he won, 't have it any other way.

"I'll leave the two of you alone to talk, mama and papa," the girl said after tapping gently her mother's leg. She then went on her way to Francois but then, she turned back to her dumbstruck parents.

"Oh, and I want a little brother," she said before skipping away.

That left the two a blushing mess. Gosh, can their daughter not? But even then, Xeno knows this is his chance to redeem himself.

"Y/N," he muttered. You notice how good your name rolls in his tongue.

"Was it true? Everything she said?" You asked. Clenching your hands from nervousness.

"It is. I'm sorry y/n. The last words I told you had tortured me for thousands of years. I had hurt you truly and that hurt me badly too. Not having you beside me is like living in hell. I'm sorry it took me a few hours to accept our child. And within those hours, it had cost you and our child," his voice broke down in the end as tears started to fall down his face.

It is a shock to you. Never, you had never seen him cry. You had never seen him this weak and lonely. You realized that you are not the only one who has been affected by the separation as you watched the broken man presenting you his crumbled pieces.

Your heart clenched. Was your love too shallow to have not trusted him back then? Had you just let him cool off for a bit, he had gone home to a warm apartment. You understood that he was pressured too much at that time and you left blinded by the hurt.

Looking back now, you realized you just wanted to get his attention. So you left, in hopes, he'll come running after you. But he never did, and it made you resent him more. You didn't even think for a second how he may have felt. He was tied down by his projects and you knew that if only he was free, he'll come running to you. Humanity relied on his projects and a single error can cost lots of lives. You knew this but still, you only trusted your selfishness.

"Xeno, I-" you can't take it anymore. You cried your heart out and he immediately embraced you.

"I'm sorry, Xeno. I'm sorry. I have been selfish and truly I am sorry," you added between sobs.

You felt Xeno shake his head, "it's understandable y/n. I was also wrong. It's okay now," he continues to console you, rubbing your back.

"Well, I know a lot has changed but why don't we start over again, yeah?" He whispers.

You pulled away from him to look him in the eyes, "how?"

He thought for a few seconds before grinning, the one that has always make your heart leap.

"I own this yacht and there's a little room downstairs. Maybe we can start with our daughter's request," he proposed naughtily.

You only smacked him in the head which made him chuckle.

"Oh my god Xeno, that's horrible! Where?" This time, it is you who had a smirk in the face. Xeno did not expect you to play along but this fired him up.

"Let's have twins this time," he said before pulling you somewhere.

In the distance, the crew of eavesdroppers finally sighed as they watched the reunited couple leave.

"That was quick," Ryusui commented.

"They're not teenagers anymore, you know," Senku replied and carried a smiling Xenka.

"They had like thousands of years to think over what happened so why wait now? It's so obvious they love each other, it makes me want to barf," the little girl muttered.

"Kukuku. I bet you are the happiest of all Xenka-chan," the leek-y scientist grinned.

"Your right, oniisan. My family is now complete and we may have another member in a few months," she said exuding the happiness she truly felt inside her heart.

"Alright, everyone, the food is already done!"

With that, the crew followed Francois never minding the distant moans and groans coming from below.

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mundanewayv · 4 years

Text

time after time. / hendery w.

A young astro-physists accepts a challenge from his crush.

“I challenge you to build one.”

“A time machine?”

“Yeah. And if I’m in there, you get to take me on a date.”

“Don’t go back on your words then!”

fluff-angst - 3k

Some boys wanted to play football their entire lives while some wanted to run for office, but Hendery had bigger plans. He wanted to fly to the solar system. He wanted to have dinner in a place vaguely known to man with no gravity holding him back rather than tight tuxedos and fancy ballrooms. He didn’t want to settle for going on holidays with limited paid work leaves and annual holidays when he could orbit and sightsee the planets and all the celestial phenomena of the universe and float among the stars in his quiet sanctuary a hundred kilometers from Earth.

Undoubtedly one of the smartest kids on campus, Hendery and his group of fellow astro-physicists were isolated from the hustle and bustle of university. Sitting in their tutorial lab, they’re often huddled around some sort of blueprint while the outside world continues on with their own lives. Always brainstorming over different theories and calculating numbers that can be barely articulated by others outside of the faculty.

“Yangyang, I think there’s something wrong with the calculation for the negative temperature coefficient. It’s impossible for the reactivity of the nuclear reactor to increase as temperature increases, can you check the derivative again?” Xiaojun points out and traces the equation with his chalk as he squints at the calculation on the blackboard, struggling to find the error with the math.

“And for god’s sake, work on that penmanship please. I can’t even tell apart ‘3’ and ‘8’ when you write them this way.” Xiaojun complains once more as he directs his attention to Yangyang who was sitting on the lab counter sipping on his fifth can of cola for the morning and third box of pizza.

Hendery and Kun chuckled by the side as they sat on the side working on their own sets of calculations whilst listening to Xiaojun’s rant.

“Kun, I’m having problems solving these differential equations and I’ve been working on them for days and I’m having an absolute mental block, do you think it’s time to call for help?”

“Hendery, that’s quite unlike you because you usually solve them with no problem and it doesn’t help that this assignment is due in two days and Professor is still frolicking in the Bahamas while we’re stuck here.” Kun picks the stack of papers on Hendery’s table as he examines the messy cancellations and occasional tear stains and stray pen marks, numbers and alphabets also floating in circles in his head.

“Yeah, we definitely need help for this one.” Kun rubs his temples as he concludes that the damn equations on the paper were unsolvable even after showing them to Ten.

“Maybe you can ask Y/N? She’s pretty good isn’t she? Right, Sicheng?” Lucas suggests, tossing the football in his hands in Sicheng’s direction.

“Who’s that?” all of them turned to look at Lucas.

“Y’know, the top student in the Applied Math Faculty. She went to the same advanced class as me and Sicheng in high school, maybe she can help solve your problem, Hendery.”

“I can bring her over if you want?” Sicheng taps on his phone looking for your number.

You walked into a room filled with these boys in which Sicheng had briefly introduced you to as he dragged you into their lab on short notice. Recognising only Lucas amongst the other foreign faces, you threw him a small wave. They handed you the questions and you took a quick look at it, dissecting it to bits before grabbing the chalk to solve it on the blackboard. With every line and number in the question, you felt the chalk slowly disintegrating in your hands as seven pairs of eyes burning holes in your back as you solved the question whose solution felt like it would take an infinite amount of years to write. But solved you did. White chalk covered your hands as you took a deep sigh of relief after completing the question. The boys stared in awe as they read the solution in fascination.

“It’s the Euler’s method, boys! I know it’s unconventional to use something from the ice age but it works best here!”

“How about this Y/N? Can you try this too?” Xiaojun led you to the other blackboard where he and Yangyang were working on.

You stared at the numerous equations on the board and though you were in a math major, all this math was making you dizzy too.

“I think you should check the numbers, it’s probably inverted or something since it is so long.” you chuckled.

“Always the best, Y/N.” Lucas comes over to give you a shoulder massage.

“Hi, my name is Hendery! Your math is outstanding by the way. I’m so impressed.” Hendery sticks out his hand to you.

“Well, hi there, Hendery!” you wiped the chalk on your skirt to clean your hands,

“Nice to meet you too and thank you. I’m flattered.” you waved his compliment off shyly.

From that moment on, you were well adopted into the team and before you knew it, you were spending hours and hours studying with the boys. Sometimes, the eight of you would skip frat parties to finish your research and assignments and head out to the local diner for some ice cream afterwards or sometimes drive out to the beach and all of you would just sit by the sea, watching the star-filled darkness while tracing the constellations in the sky, eventually falling asleep till right before sun rise.

To most of the boys, you were a close friend in their crew but to Hendery, you were something more. The more you impressed him with your intelligence, your humility and spontaneity, the harder he fell for you. He loved watching you as you excitedly trace the different stars in the sky and how you always wished you could visit the solar system one day, and hold one of the stars between your two hands. Hendery has never felt so compelled to know someone deeper until he met you as if the both of you, who are so similar yet a little different, were meant to meet as written in the stars.

“Y/N,” Hendery calls out as silence overcomes the crew as the other six boys retreat to their slumber.

“Yeah?”

“Do you see that ‘W’ in the sky? Do you know that that constellation has a story?”

“Tell me about it, Hendery.” you propped your body on your sides, turning to Hendery who was still looking up in the sky.

“It’s the story of King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia. Despite how bloated the Queen’s ego was, the King loved her so much that he begged to be exiled with her. Crazy, isn’t it?” he chuckles quietly.

“Well, Hendery. Love works in a funny way. He probably thought of all the time he would have to be separated from the woman he loved so much and the tiny little disputes they had wouldn’t even measure up to the infinite amount of love he had for her deep down.” you replied to him.

“I meant to tell you something, Y/N. Well, since the guys are sleeping like logs, I might as well say it right now. I like you. Like, a lot.”

“I get that a lot, Hendery. But I need a little more assurance than that.” though you could feel a blush creeping over your cheeks, your heart ached a little. It was the little voice that kept reminding you that ‘I love you’ were just empty words without action and assurance. Every confession was just a small reminder of that hollow space in your heart that carved itself whenever your father said those three words to your mother but decided to walk out of both your lives at the end of the day.

“What kind of assurance do you need Y/N?” Hendery sits up with his legs crossed and facing you as the moonlight basks on your skins.

“I challenge you to build a time machine.”

“A time machine?”

“Yeah. And if I’m in there in the next 20 years, you get to take me on a date.”

“Don’t go back on your words then!”

The idea of a time machine was just like a page out of a science-fiction book. No one has ever proven the theory behind the science of time travel and nor has anyone ever built one. Hendery reaches for probably the tenth book on the mysteries of the universe, which he had spent the entire afternoon reading and studying in the library.

“A wormhole?” Hendery stares at the article heading questionably, before reading on.

“A wormhole: a time-travelling portal created by energy fluctuations in positive and negative directions, each creating a curved space that opposes each other. When a connection is established, a wormhole is formed.”

“However, for a human to walk through the wormhole to travel in time, a supermassive black hole and negative energy is required to make a transversable wormhole.”

“One will then travel in the speed of light, known as time dilation. With the Laws of Special Relativity, a year away from Earth could be forty years into the future with this wormhole.”

Hendery takes a deep sigh, wondering if it's truly possible to build that time machine. He sat in his chair, swirling around as he chewed on his pencil.

“Well, if particles can pass through walls in Quantum Physics, man can surely walk through time.”

He worked day and night, analysing and experimenting different ways of creating that opposing energy to form a time warp. You came by occasionally to drop him some pizza or sandwiches, sometimes even blankets to cover him when he falls asleep in the lab while working. Sometimes, you would just sit by his side silently, both heads laying on the lab table. He always looked so happy in his sleep, his muscles eased and lips twitching into a smile once in a while. What were his dreams? Were you in them or were you just someone that will pass him by? Deep down you wished you didn’t propose the challenge to him and just let him take you out on that date, but the fear of not being there in his life or him in your life was probably enough to break you to pieces.

Finally, on one autumn afternoon, Hendery instructed the boys to stay out of the lab for a day so he could invite you over to watch him walk through the time machine.

“So Y/N, the time machine is done and all that’s left is to see if you’re in there and I can take you on a date afterwards right?”

“Yup.” you nodded, taking his hand in yours, holding them tightly.

“Promise to wait for me.” He asked as the both of you stood steps away from the machine.

“I promise.” you assured him, taking this opportunity to hold him in your arms.

“I’ll see you later, alligator! Plan on a restaurant, I’ll take you anywhere you want after this.” he waves, walking into the time machine and with a flash of light he disappears into the wormhole. Silence engulfed the room when you realised you were the only one left in the lab.

Hendery travels through the wormhole, watching moments of his life flash in front of his eyes: graduating university and going on a vacation with the boys and you in the Bahamas, buying his first car, entering graduate school and getting his first job at the Space Research Centre where he worked hard till he retired. He even sees his final days as he chased the Northern Lights in the cold night of Iceland. But, you weren’t there. He may have achieved all he ever wanted but you weren’t there, and everything else just became pointless to him. He wanted to run back to you and just tell a white lie for once, as long as he could keep you by his side, even if it wasn’t forever.

You returned back to the lab, it hasn’t changed much since you left, almost twenty years ago. You took a seat on the chair you sat when you waited for Hendery to return. He told you he would be back soon, but day by day, you returned to the lab but you were still alone and Hendery was still in the machine. The boys waited with you as they awaited the return of their friend. Nobody knew how long it would take for Hendery to return except for himself. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and months turned to years. Now you are forty-five, your youth long gone and age slowly diminishing the glow your face once had, had two kids of your own and a businessman husband that was always too busy for the family. You wondered, would anything have been different if you knew the answer? You looked around the lab, reminiscing the days the crew and you spent, the best time of all your lives.

“Y/N!” you turned around to the deep voice that called out to you.

Sadness slowly disappears as you were hugged by the six boys that filled your university life. All six of them looked as dashing as ever and glad to say that their cheerful positivity never left them at all. They turned to look at the time machine.

“He’s still in there isn’t he?” Lucas asked. It was always sad because Hendery was just like a crucial puzzle piece that was never found. The boys missed him as much as you did. All of you sat down and chatted and ordered pizza just like the old days. Ending the night, all of you slowly packed your stuff and got ready to leave the lab and return back to your own lives, hoping that the next time all of you reunite, the glitch in the time machine would have disappeared and Hendery would be back with all of you.

Just as all of you slowly walked to the entrance of the lab, a ray of light shines throughout the room, a thunderous noise sends vibrations throughout the room, turning around to see the antique time machine coming back to life. You swore you could hear the thumps of all your hearts racing clearly. A figure slowly forms among the bright light; slim, cladded in a checkered vest and coffee-colored pants and, hair pushed back with too much gel, just like Hendery’s. You couldn’t believe your eyes as you take slow steps forward, not wanting to get any of your hopes up. But there right in front of you, stood the man you wished had come back to you twenty years ago, Hendery Wong. Tears flowed uncontrollably as you couldn’t stomach the shock of finally seeing him after all this while. He still looked the same as he did when he hugged you for the last time. Time hasn’t caught up with him at all but it wasn’t the same for you and the rest.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Hendery’s fingertips slowly traced the tears that were rolling off your cheeks.

“Guys? Are you guys really here?” Hendery rushed into the arms of his brothers, embracing them as if he hasn’t seen them in a lifetime.

“You guys waited! How long have I been gone?” he asks, wondering why everything seemed to have moved forward except him.

“Hendery, you’ve been stuck in there for twenty years.” you told him, slowly sobering up from your crying, holding his hand and his fingers examining the band on your ring finger.

“Oh? You got married?” he asked, hurt apparent in his voice.

“I did…” your voice trailed off at the end.

“I waited for you to come back as promised, Hendery. But you never came back and we never went for that dinner you promised me to.” you could feel the tears slowly forming again.

That was when Hendery realised that what he saw in the wormhole was right; you were never going to be in there with him even till the last breath he took.

“Hey, don’t cry, alright? I’ll take you to that dinner okay? I promise. But for now…” he looks up reluctantly to face all of you.

“I’d like to go back. I have something important to do. And maybe we’ll see each other again.” Hendery speaks softly this time.

“See you again, brother.” Kun comes up and pulls him into a hug, his tears staining the cotton of Hendery’s vest.

“I love you, Hendery.” you said those three words, after twenty years of yearning. You wished that you could go back in time and right the wrongs and work against the tricks of time.

And with one last wave, Hendery enters the time machine once more.

Hendery finds himself in the lab again, did the time machine fail?

“Hendery, you’re back!” you raced back into the lab, with snacks and chocolate milk.

“Wait, where did you go?” he asked in confusion when he saw your younger self instead of your matured self.

“I went to get snacks while waiting for you, silly. So how was it? Are you going to take me on that date?” you teased him.

“Let’s talk about it over dinner, it was a wild ride! You wouldn’t believe it!” he slings your arm in his as the both of you leave the lab in all smiles. Hendery taking this chance to fight against fate and time in this one, in hopes he can change the future he saw in that wormhole.

#hendery scenarios #hendery scenario #hendery imagines #hendery fluff #wayv scenarios #wayv scenario #wayv imagine #hendery #wayv #nct scenarios

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ohdearhiddles · 4 years

Text

TITLE: Angel of Death

CHAPTER: 2/?

CH. SUMMARY: You tell Loki that you are a monster, and Loki tells you that he is one, too.

WORD COUNT: 3652 (Link to Ch. 1 )

AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: mentions of death; So, I'm definitely going to edit this chapter eventually. Also I think I lied, this is definitely going to be a bit longer than 3 chapters. The more I think about the story, the more I want to add to it, so who knows how many chapters there will be. I hope you like it x (AO3 LINK)

Your feet felt impossibly heavy as you walked back to your apartment. The sun had just dipped over the horizon, painting the sky a magnificent orange, purple, and blue as it bid the day farewell. The streets were bustling at their usual speed, people weaving through one another like needles embroidering a ritualistic path in order to create something beautiful. These people, their lives were beautiful. You found yourself envious for the first time in a while, wishing that you could walk the streets as you used to. The unspoken wish to be free from whatever curse had befallen you was on the tip of your tongue.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to cease to exist but exist all the same.

There was a point in time when you had believed that curses were things of fairytales and that if they were to exist in the real world, it certainly wouldn't happen to you. For your entire life, you felt as though you had lived in a way that would've made even the gods proud. You did right by others, and in return, the world did right by you. Yet here you were, paying for a crime you didn't commit and running into the law when you had meant no harm. Things like that made you wonder if gods really existed.

As you neared the apartment complex, your heart began to hammer in your chest. You were struck with the sudden realization that you had missed the "date" that Loki had planned for the two of you that evening; although, maybe it was for the better. Now the handsome gentleman would be able to see that he was better off in another woman’s presence rather than yours, and you would no longer need to worry about your lips ever touching him. No matter how many times you ran that thought through your mind, the weight on your shoulders didn’t go away. It was as if the world not only bestowed a curse on you, but now they handed you a rare specimen of a suitor that was barely out of your reach.

The world was cruel and the gods made fun of your every move.

You held your head up high, letting your mind wander to more pressing matters like how you were going to explain the lethal situation that all the men from that file had found themselves in. Would you spend the rest of your life constantly looking over your shoulder? Will they condemn you for your crimes? Or worse, would they take you away to live as a lab rat for the rest of your life?

From the corner of your eye, you saw your reflection on the glass window of a local shop. You stopped to stare at it, wondering if your reflection felt as bad as the both of you looked. The makeup you had put on had worn off from the countless times you had rubbed your hands over your face in distress since leaving the station. Glancing at the reflection of your hands, you pulled them up, analyzing your palms and then flipping them over to analyze the backs of them as well.

Were these the hands of the monster you had become?

Shaking your head, you turned back to the sidewalk. These thoughts were something you had thought many times over the past few years, and you had done what you could to keep them at bay. You had finally reached your building when you stopped in your tracks.

Sitting on the stairs, a bouquet of flowers at his feet, was Loki. His elbows rested on his thighs as he stared off into the distance. You were shocked to say the least. Not only had he witnessed you get into a police car, but he had sat down and waited for your return. The thought of him watching the sun set all on his own made you feel a tad guilty. He was a man that seemed to deserve more than a potential future convict as a date, and he definitely deserved more than a date that ditches him for an interrogation room.

His eyes met yours, a piercing gaze that you had matched many times before. Loki picked the flowers up from the stairs, standing to greet you. A sheepish grin appeared on your face at the sight of him. This was in no way romantic. In fact, a man that sits and waits for a date to come back from the police station is most likely insane, but who were you to care?

Loki held out the bouquet, his jaw clenching as he waited for you to take it. Your heart felt heavy at the unhappy expression on his face and you couldn’t help but let your eyes drift down to your feet in embarrassment.

“How long have you been sitting here?” You asked, eyes still trained on your shoes.

“Long enough,” he spoke, his voice still so confident despite his date for the night being driven away by law enforcement seconds before he arrived to pick her up. You felt his eyes following your every movement as you began to walk towards the entrance of the complex. It felt intimidating how he was looking at you; it reminded you of when you had first encountered him. His presence itself was intimidating, but when his eyes met yours, you always felt so small, so incomparable.

Loki followed your lead, walking only a couple steps behind as you began the ascent to your home. He was quiet and so were you, but this silence was different than usual. Sure, the two of you didn’t always talk when you met. Sometimes you just sat in the presence of one another, enjoying the feeling of not being alone in the universe - a soft, peaceful silence. This silence, however, was sharp like the finest blade forged by the heavens. It was filled with the strength of every secret hidden between the two of you, strong enough to bring down giants and break through mountains. It was an invisible blade, threatening you to break down the walls you had built or else it would do the job for you.

It wasn’t until the door shut behind Loki that he spoke again, “Care to explain?”

His tone wasn’t as intimidating as it was before. Perhaps he read your body language and understood that you weren’t in a good state of mind after such an encounter, or perhaps he had just gotten over his anger and realized that you didn’t willingly ditch him. Either way, you were happy that he didn’t seem too angered by your sudden disappearance.

“It’s a long story,” you responded, walking over to your sofa to sit down. Once again, Loki followed.

“I have quite a lot of time.”

At his statement, you looked up. His green eyes pierced through yours, trying to decipher the thoughts running through them. Loki sat down next to you, turned slightly to face your distraught self, as he cleared his throat, “The woman I was meant to accompany this evening seemed to have had some unexpected business to take care of.”

You smiled at his words, knowing that the man before you was only trying to make you smile. He was quite good at it; in fact, you had smiled more in his presence than you had smiled in the past 6 years, and for that, you were both thankful and terrified. Loki’s presence terrified you. At the beginning of the night, you had told yourself that this would be the last time you met with him. Now, as you tried to tell yourself the same thing, it was met with downright rejection.

Loki had willingly stayed, waiting for you to return to receive an explanation. So, he was quite possibly insane, but part of you wondered if his kind of insanity would mix well with your own. Since you were a woman that killed others with whatever venomous talent you possessed, maybe insanity was what you needed in your life. But when has insanity ever been the cure for anything?

Sighing, you shook your head, “I don’t think you want to hear it, Loki. It’s not exactly a good first impression.”

“So, it’s a secret?” A grin replaced the more concerned look he had only a minute or so before. The grin was gorgeous. Of course, everything about this man was gorgeous, and for a split second you thought: If he really is insane, then insanity has never looked so good.

It was true. He was by no means an earthly kind of attractive. His long black hair, sharp jawline, and lean figure along with the English accent made him seem otherworldly.

“A secret better left unsaid,” you responded, nodding.

“Oh, but what’s the fun in that?” Loki taunted. His tone seemed more playful, as if the barrier you had placed between the two of you was more of a fun obstacle course than a warning sign that said ‘No Trespassing.’ Part of you wanted to urge him to break down the walls while the more logical side told you not to trust a man that had fun poking at secrets. You were always the type to ignore logic, though.

As Loki continued to grin childishly, you turned to face him completely. You gazed into his emerald colored eyes, hoping to find security and a place in which you could safely put your trust. There was no such place in Loki’s eyes; there was something much better. You couldn’t quite put it into words or coherent thought what you saw in his eyes when they met yours this time. It was as if light and dark had met and formed a fine line in which the two of you could walk upon, a grey area where all right and wrong needn’t exist. If there was a paradise for those who had fallen so far from the grace of god and man alike, Loki knew where it was. His eyes held the promise of acceptance, a promise he, too, seemed to yearn for.

When you looked away, there was no further decision making needed. If he was meant to turn his head the other way when you fully opened your heart to him, then that was what you would have to accept. But just like the day when he first sat next to you, there was something in him that made Loki seem sad, vulnerable, and even relatable. Although he looked as if he had just walked down from a pedestal made of jade and gold, he also seemed as though he had walked through hell and back.

If there was one individual to grace this planet that would not run away, it would be him.

“Can I trust you?” You asked him, testing the waters.

Loki paused, seemingly contemplating your words. His eyebrows furrowed and his grin vanished, and you wondered if he was already thinking about backing out. Now, if you had been able to read minds, you’d know that it was quite the opposite. Inside Loki, a terrible war raged on.

Trust. A small yet powerful word that could start or end the most destructive of battles. Could you trust him? Was there anyone in all the nine realms that was truly trustworthy?

His jaw was clenched as he stared at you, and you wondered what was going through his mind. The silence between you continued for what felt like a century before he spoke up.

“Yes,” he finally answered, nothing more and nothing less. Nodding, you sat up straighter, attempting to get a hold of your nerves. This was it - the moment of truth.

So, you began, “I’m not sure how to explain, but I’m not normal.”

Loki didn’t react. He just sat there, his eyes trained on your hands that were attempting to break free from the skin covering them. The silence only urged you on.

“I didn’t know I wasn’t considered normal until I was about 21,” you continued. “It started when I was 16 and people around me started dying. I didn’t understand why, but it was a pretty big topic back then. My high school boyfriend passed away from a car accident, but we found out later he had died before impact, which was why he had crashed in the first place.”

“The next year, when I was 17, my dad passed away. The doctor said it was probably his heart, but-” The words were caught in your throat. If you said it now, you would have to fully admit that you had killed your own father. However, even you knew that there was no going back anymore. By now, you had already revealed that the deaths most likely had something to do with you, and that alone was enough to incriminate you if Loki chose to hand you over to the police.

The feeling of a cold hand enveloping your own caused you to flinch. From the corner of your eye, you watched Loki’s eyes widen at your surprise pulling his hand back almost immediately. “It was me.”

“What was?” He asked, eyes trained on the palms of his hands.

“My father, his death, it was my fault.” You admitted, the feelings of guilt rushing through you like an unforgiving wind. Loki’s eyes snapped up to look at you, his expression serious now as he spoke, “It was not your fault.”

“No,” you countered, “It was. My father, my ex boyfriend, the men I saw throughout college, it was all me. It wasn’t until I watched the news one day that I even realized that the city saw their deaths as a string of murders. It all clicked. The deaths, the unanswered phone calls, and the rumors that people needed to stay away from me - it all made sense. I wasn't just a bad omen, I was killing people. By the time I was 21, I had killed 11 men and I was being called the city’s Angel of Death - a cold-hearted murderer.”

“Did you kill those men?” Loki asked, his voice unwavering. It was almost as if death did not phase him in the slightest, and for a brief second you were thankful that he was not scared of you or what you had said.

“Did you not hear me?” You retorted, standing from your spot on the sofa. “They call me the Angel of Death.”

Loki stood as well, his expression hardening at your words. He loomed over you, his presence once again becoming much more intimidating than you would have liked. “I heard you, but perhaps you aren’t listening. I’m asking a rather important question.”

He took a step closer before speaking once more. “Did you, Y/N, kill those men?”

Your eyes began to water, tears of pain and guilt flooding your body and soul. There was no turning back; this was you, revealed. This was vulnerability. This was trust.

“No,” you said, tears beginning to fall. “I didn’t mean to.”

The tears kept falling as Loki took the final step to close the distance between you two. His arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on the top of your head as he calmed you with the gesture. Normally, this type of action made you feel suffocated; however, coming from him, it was like a warm blanket of security had just tightened its grasp on you. The words Loki whispered next set fire to your rabid thoughts, “I believe you.”

You pulled away in that instant, eyes turning cold, “Believe me?”

“Yes, I believe that you did not mean to kill those men.”

“But I killed them. Intentionally or not, their blood is on my hands and the police will come for me,” you cried, realization dawning on you. This was no time to be comforted by the hands of a ner stranger. In this moment, you were a key suspect in a string of crimes that would lead to your family disowning you, your friends hating you, and every good deed you had done to be erased from the face of this earth. You were dangerously close to being another killer on the long list of individuals to curse at the night sky about.

“You said it yourself - you did not kill those men.” Loki reassured, his determination matching yours. His hands were at his sides, clenching and unclenching with every other word he said.

“I did,” you whispered as a reply. The unspoken horror had never been repeated so many times in one night, and you had never heard yourself say the words aloud until now. Every life you ended, every death you had caused hammered down on you, weighing on you like rain water in a cloud. You were darkening, threatening to burst with a downpour of storms until you flooded all that your shadow touched. Your thoughts began to consume you, eyes going dark as Loki stood before your stiff body. His words floated in your mind: I believe you.

“I’m a monster,” you stated as if it were fact.

“You are not,” Loki countered your remark, fighting back. “I have seen many monsters, and you are not one of them.”

“You’ve seen monsters?” You asked, eyebrows raising in a mocking way. Part of you was genuinely curious while the other part of you wanted to scream at him for trusting you even in the slightest. “I just told you that the blood of 11 men is on my hands, and you, you say I’m not a monster?”

Loki didn’t respond at first. He stood quietly, eyes staring off into the distance, and for a moment you thought that you had won the argument. That is, until he spoke again, “If you were to know the things I have done, you would think much kinder of yourself.”

Curiosity. What a peculiar trait curiosity is. The trait of being curious seemed to break through even the toughest armors and most foolproof disguises. It was a fluid trait that demanded its rightful place as being the most dominant feeling an individual could possess. So, despite the current situation and the weight of the world resting on your shoulders, a small childlike piece of you wanted to know what the raven-haired man meant. What horrors had he seen? What had he done?

“What does that mean?” You questioned, watching for his reaction.

Loki continued to stare off as if there were demons wandering your halls and he had the duty of looking for them. Little did you know that the demons were not so far off that they had to be sought after. No, the demons were right there in the eyes of the man you had somehow grown attached to in the past few weeks.

“It simply means that you are not the only person in this room that has done the unspeakable,” he responded, voice strained as if he had struggled tremendously to even say the words. You froze, unable to process what he meant by what he had said. If Loki was also a murderer, that means he would have done so with the full intention of killing someone. Unless he was like you, cursed by fate to send those you love to an early grave.

Somehow, you wished it was the latter.

“And what does that mean?” You repeated, growing more wary of the fact that you didn’t know much about this man at all. Long talks in a public park is quite different than allowing a man into your home, and this was beginning to seem like a bad idea.

“You are not a monster no more than I am an innocent.”

“So, you’re saying that you’ve killed people.”

Those emerald eyes met yours once again, fear radiating from his gaze as he realized that he, too, can no longer take back what he has said. The confidence and intimidating aura that once covered his entirety now seemed something of the past. The walls were coming down, and both of you had exposed yourselves, more vulnerable than either of you were comfortable being.

“I am saying that I have done things I am not proud of, but I am working on fixing that,” Loki said.

“What did you do?” You questioned, finding it only fair that he share his secrets since you had shared yours. However, if you had been in your right mind, you would know that the world does not work that way. One secret does not equal another being told. Some secrets are too big, revealing much more than one hidden detail. This you would have seen in the mixed expression on Loki’s face as you had asked.

He seemed to take in a large breath before speaking, “I have done many things, but I believe you will be familiar with the memory of a god trying to take over your city.”

Neither of you spoke for a moment as the words floated through the air with no destination.

“I’m an idiot,” you said, breaking the silence. The words Loki had spoken were rattling around in your mind like dice during an astounding game of Yahtzee. “Loki.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to continue to speak.

“You’re the god. You’re not just named after the Norse God of Mischief; you are him. You attacked this city, you-” You stopped speaking as you came to a full understanding of what he had meant when he said he had done things he was not proud of. People had died; so many lives were lost because of him. Looking up, you met his cautious gaze, eyes filled with worry as he stood in front of you with his metaphorical armor laid at his feet. All the cards had been played, and there was no turning back for either of you.

“Do you still believe you are the only monster here?”

(Chapter 3)

#loki laufeyson #loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x mutant!reader #mutant!reader #mutant powers #loki imagine #loki imagines #mcu imagines #ohdearhiddles imagines #ohdearhiddles imagine

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thelittlesttimelord · 4 years

Text

The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 13

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 13 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 13/? SUMMARY: Elise Smith is now a teenaged Timelord. In addition to losing the Ponds, the fields of Trenzalore are calling. But first they have to figure out exactly who Clara Oswald is.

[A/N - I feel like I’m going to break everyone’s hearts with this chapter. This one is a longer one.]

The Doctor and Elise stepped out the TARDIS to find little black cubes everywhere.

The Doctor picked one up. He turned to Elise with a smile. “Well this is new.”

They met up with Amy, Rory, and Brian.

The Doctor was now walking around the console examining the cube in his hand. “All absolutely identical. Not a single molecule's difference between them. No blemishes, imperfections, individualities.”

“What if they're bombs? Billions of tiny bombs? Or transport capsules maybe, with a mini robot inside. Or deadly hard drives. Or alien eggs? Or messages needing decoding? Or they're all parts of a bigger whole. Jigsaw puzzles that need fitting together,” Brian suggested.

“Very thorough, Brian. Very, very thorough. Well done. Stay here. Watch these. Yell if anything happens,” the Doctor said, placing his cube on top of the one Brian was holding.

“Doctor, is this an alien invasion? Because that's what it feels like,” Amy told him.

“There couldn't be life-forms in every cube, could there?” Rory asked.

“I don't know. And I really don't like not knowing,” the Doctor said.

They stepped out into Amy and Rory’s lounge and the Doctor made his way into the kitchen. “Right, I need to use your kitchen as a lab. Cook up some cubes. See what happens.”

“Right, I'm due at work,” Rory mentioned.

“What? You've got a job?”

“Of course I've got a job. What do you think we do when we're not with you?”

“I imagined mostly kissing.”

“I write travel articles for magazines and Rory heals the sick,” Amy told him.

“My shift starts in an hour. You don't know where my scrubs are?” Rory asked.

“In the lounge, where you left them.”

The Doctor went to work constructing whatever it was he was going to use to experiment on the cubes. “Ah, the Ponds, with their house and their jobs and their everyday lives. The journalist and the nurse. Long way from Leadworth,” the Doctor said, sonicing his device.

“We think it's been ten years. Not for you or Earth, but for us. Ten years older. Ten years of you, on and off,” Amy said.

“Look at you now. All grown up.”

The front door was busted down and heavily armed people entered the house.

The Doctor pulled Elise behind him and Amy stepped closer to the Doctor.

“Clear! Trap one, kitchen secured.”

“Trap three, back garden secured.”

Rory was lead into the kitchen at gunpoint. “There are soldiers all over my house, and I'm in my pants,” he said.

“My whole life I've dreamed of saying that, and I miss it by being someone else,” Amy quipped.

A blonde woman entered the house. “All these muscles, and they still don't know how to knock. Sorry about the raucous entrance. Spike in Artron energy reading at this address. In the light of the last twenty four hours, we had to check it out, and the dogs do love a run out. Hello. Kate Stewart, head of scientific research at UNIT. And with dress sense like that…” She pulled out a scanner and held it up to the Doctor. “You must be the Doctor. I hoped it would be you.”

Kate frowned. “We seem to be missing someone.”

The Doctor reluctantly stepped aside, revealing Elise behind him.

“Ah, hello there.”

The Doctor stepped back in front of Elise. The Doctor wasn’t too keen on all these heavily armed soldiers around his daughter. “Tell me, since when did science run the military, Kate?”

“Since me. UNIT's been adapting. Well, I dragged them along, kicking and screaming, which made it sound like more fun than it actually was.”

“What do we know about these cubes?”

“Far less than we need to. We've been freighting them in from around the world for testing. So far, we've subjected them to temperatures of plus and minus two hundred Celsius, simulated a water depth of five miles, dropped one out of a helicopter at ten thousand feet and rolled our best tank over it. Always intact.”

“That's impressive. I don't want them to be impressive. I want them vulnerable with a nice Achilles heel.”

“We don't know how they got here, what they're made of, or why they're here.”

The Doctor picked one up and tossed it in the air. “And all around the world, people are picking them up and taking them home.”

“Like iPads have dropped out of the sky. Taking them to work, taking pictures, making films, posting them on Flickr and YouTube. Within three hours, the cubes had a thousand separate Twitter accounts.”

“Twitter?”

“I've recommended we treat this as a hostile incursion. Gather them all up and lock them in a secure facility. But that would take massive international agreement and co-operation.”

“We need evidence. The cubes arrived in plain sight, in vast quantities, as the sun rose. So, what does that tell us?”

“Maybe they wanted to be seen. Noticed,” Amy said.

“Or more than that, they want to be observed. So we observe them. Stay with them round the clock. Watch the cubes, day and night. Record absolutely everything about them. Team cube, in it together,” the Doctor said. He kissed the cube and smiled.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Four days later and the cubes hadn’t done anything.

The Doctor was currently hanging upside down on Amy and Rory’s couch, while Elise sat by the window. “Four days. Nothing! Nothing!” He picked up one of the cubes and started hitting it. “Not a single change in any cube anywhere in the world. Four days, and I am still in your lounge!” He sat up.

“You were the one who wanted to observe them,” Amy told him.

“Yes, well, I thought they'd do something, didn't I? Not just sit there while everyone eats endless cereal!” The Doctor jumped up from the couch.

“You said we had to be patient,” reminded Rory.

“Yes, you! You, not me! I hate being patient. Patience is for wimps.” The Doctor threw himself back on the couch. “I can't live like this. Don't make me. I need to be busy.”

“Fine! Be busy!” Amy yelled, “We'll watch the cubes.”

The Doctor jumped up from the sofa and started to get things done around the house.

“How are you not bored?” Rory asked Elise.

Elise shrugged. In truth, she preferred the quiet. She could let her mind wander.

The Doctor soon threw himself back onto the couch. “That's better. Nothing like a bit of activity to pass the time. How long was I gone?” he asked.

Rory checked his watch. “Uh, about an hour.”

“I can't do it.” The Doctor jumped over the back of the couch and went inside the TARDIS.

“Where are you going?” Amy asked.

Amy, Rory, and Elise followed him into the TARDIS.

“Brian, you're still here,” the Doctor said, finding Brian in the jump seat.

“You told me to watch the cubes.”

“Four days ago.”

“Ah! Doesn't time fly when you're alone with your thoughts?”

“You can't just leave, Doctor,” Rory told him.

“Yes, of course I can. Quick jaunt, restore sanity. Ooo, hey, come if you like.”

“They can't just go off like that,” Brian said.

“Can't they? Can't you? That's how it goes, isn't it?”

“I've got my job,” Rory said.

“Oh yes, Rory. The universe is awaiting, but you have a little job to.”

“It's not little. It's important to me. Look, what you do isn't all there is.”

“I never said it was.” The Doctor looked at Amy, but she just stood there. “All right. Fine. I'll be back soon. Monitor the cubes. Call me. I'll have the TARDIS set to every Earth news feed. Come along, Elise.”

“I’m staying,” she told him. Her statement stopped everyone in their tracks.

“Ellie…”

“I want to stay with Amy and Rory. I like not having to run for my life or wondering who’s gonna die.”

“Oh, okay then.” Elise walked over to him and put her hand on his cheek. “It’s not forever. Just a few weeks. Just like when you sent me off with River.”

The Doctor smiled softly. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. I just need to grab a few things from my room.” The Doctor managed to keep it together long enough for Elise to pack a suitcase and say goodbye. The minute he set the TARDIS in flight, he broke down. He should have known she’d leave.

They always did.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elise settled into life with the Ponds quite well. Their friends got used to seeing Elise around the couple.

Amy and Rory had come up with the story that Elise was Rory’s niece who needed a place to stay while attending university.

Amy loved having Elise around the house and enrolled her in art classes.

Amy and Rory treated Elise more like a daughter than a friend; Elise becoming a surrogate ‘Melody’ for them both.

“Goodnight, Elise,” Amy said.

“Night,” Elise said and closed her bedroom door. She’d been with Amy and Rory for about a month now, but she missed her father and River.

Amy and Rory were great and all, but they weren’t the Doctor.

She spent her days sketching and painting. Amy and Rory tried to convince her to sell some of her paintings, but Elise refused so they kept getting moved into the garage.

Eventually one month turned into two and soon it was Christmas.

Amy and Rory noticed a change in Elise. The happy girl who had first moved in with them turned into a girl who spent all her time in her bedroom, sketching in her sketchbook. Even the allure of Christmas presents and Christmas dinner could make Elise come out of her room.

Amy burst into her room.

Elise was laying on her bed, staring at a picture of herself, the Doctor, and River taken on a past Mother’s Day.

“That’s it. Get up. I’ll not have you moping!”

Elise rolled away from her.

Amy sighed. “Elise, I know you miss your father, but you can’t keep doing this.”

Elise ignored her.

“Have you tried calling him?”

“He won’t pick up the phone. I can’t even get in touch with River!”

Amy heard Elise’s voice crack and she soon dissolved into tears. Amy quickly embraced the girl, holding her tightly.

Elise didn’t think it would be this bad. She thought she’d like being stationary. She did, but she missed her father more.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The New Year rolled around and Elise’s attitude started to improve.

Amy and Rory made sure to get her out more often, instead of just leaving her in the house with Brian all the time. She got back into painting and even started writing in her journal again.

Soon, Amy and Rory’s wedding anniversary rolled around.

Amy had purchased Elise a new blue dress for their summer barbeque, reminiscent of the one she wore to their wedding. Amy even taught Elise how to put on makeup and did her hair.

Amy was leaving yet another message for the Doctor. “Hey! Doctor, it's me. Hello. So, the UN classified the cubes as provisionally safe, whatever that means, and Banksy and Damien Hirst put out statements saying the cubes are nothing to do with them. And the cubes, well, they're just here. Still. What's it been, nine months? People are just taking them for granted. Maybe we'll never know why they came. But anyway. Elise is doing better. Personally, Rory and I just think she was going through her rebellious teenage phase. I remember how I was when I was her age, but let’s not get into that. I got to Laura's wedding. It was great. She's here tonight, being as it's our wedding anniversary. We thought you might have dropped by. I left you messages.”

The Doctor appeared behind her, holding a huge bouquet of flowers. “I know! Happy anniversary! Come with me. And bring your husband. Where’s Elise?”

Amy pointed over to where Brian stood.

Elise looked…beautiful. He almost didn’t recognize his own daughter.

Elise finally looked over at him and dropped the drink in her hand. She ran over to him and threw her arms around his neck. “Please tell me this isn’t a dream.”

The Doctor smiled. “You’re completely awake, Ellie.”

“Good, because I’m never leaving you for that long again.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Doctor tried taking Amy and Rory on one trip as a gift for their anniversary and things kept going wrong and soon it had been two and a half months.

They returned on Amy and Rory’s anniversary, but no one but Brian noticed that they were in different clothes. Even Elise.

As Elise settled in for the night, the Doctor entered her room.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked.

“Um, yeah.”

The Doctor sat down next to her on the bed. “I’ve decided I’m staying.” “What?”

“I miss Amy and Rory. And I missed you most of all.”

“I missed you too.”

The Doctor reached out and wiped a tear off Elise’s cheek, causing her to break down.

She’d cried so much in the last nine months, it was a wonder she still had tears to cry.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here now,” the Doctor cooed, rocking gently, “Why are there so many songs about rainbows and what’s on the other side…?”

The song wasn’t enough to calm Elise like it normally did.

The Doctor felt bad that he was causing her all this pain and that he couldn’t take it away. He worried for what it would do to Elise in the end.

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor imagine #eleventh doctor fanfiction #doctor who #doctor who imagine #Doctor Who fanfiction #amy pond #amy pond imagine #Rory Williams #rory williams imagine #brian williams #brian williams imagine #the littlest timelord #the littlest timelord: the fall of the eleventh #power of three

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robinskey · 5 years

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Miracle (Billy Hargrove x Reader)

A/N: This idea randomly came to me, and I spent most of my day working on it. I don’t write for Billy much, but I 100% feel his character deserved better, so...here’s my attempt at rewriting the canon.

Warnings: Season 3 spoilers, mention of blood, a bit of angst and swearing

Billy should have died last night.

As you sit in the little folding chair next to his hospital bed, you can’t stop that thought from crossing your mind. By all means, Billy Hargrove should not have survived the injuries he sustained from the Mind Flayer. You’d watched as the monster’s tentacles had punctured holes through Billy’s abdomen, like a pencil stabbed through a piece of notebook paper. By the time you and Max had gotten to him, the bleeding wounds had stained his once-white tank top bright crimson.

You’d uttered a string of expletives before screaming at someone to call an ambulance. You tried tying your jacket around his midsection, unsuccessfully attempting to stop the bleeding. Like most high school students, you didn’t know much about first aid. The only thing you knew was that you would not let this boy bleed out in your arms.

Across from you, Max gazed at her stepbrother will tear-filled eyes. He stared back.

“I’m sorry, Max. I wish-I wish I could have been a better brother,” he said, his voice soft and strained, barely audible over the police sirens blaring outside the mall. Billy’s arm hung limp at his side, and Max placed her small, freckled hand over his. Then, he turned to you. “Thank you-for everything.”

“Don’t talk like you’re dying, Billy, because you’re not,” you’d said through clenched teeth. “Hold on. Help will be here soon.” You tugged at the sleeves of your jacket with shaking fingers, tightening its hold on Billy’s stomach.

“Y/N,” he said with as much force as he could muster.

It came out as a grunt, but it was enough to draw your attention. He watched you with unblinking baby blues-the same color as the ocean that he loved so dearly-the one you knew he wanted to see again. The one he would see again.

“Let me go.”

Your voice was hoarse, strained by the tears you were trying to repress. “You know I can’t do that.”

And you didn’t. You kept pressure on Billy’s wounds until the EMTs arrived, and you held his hand until they loaded him onto the ambulance.

“He’s going to live, right?” you frantically asked one man in scrubs.

The man hesitated before answering, “I can’t tell you that, miss. It’s a miracle he’s survived this long.”

A miracle.

Those words echoed in your mind as you jumped into your station wagon, stomped on the gas, and chased the ambulance all the way to the hospital. They permeated your thoughts as you paced the waiting room, uttering words of encouragement to Max and small prayers to the universe, to God-whoever would listen. (You’d never been a particularly religious person, but you figured Billy could use whatever help he could possibly get.)

A kind nurse asked if there was anyone she could contact for you. Surprisingly, despite how recently the family had moved to Hawkins, she managed to find “Hargrove” in the phonebook. She handed the phone to you, and you dialed the number. It rang several times before a husky voice answered.

“Whatever you’re selling, we don’t want any,” the man on the other end of the line slurred. Then, he slammed the phone down on the receiver.

After several excruciating hours of surgery, a doctor emerged from behind a set of metal double doors. She wore a white lab coat and an unreadable expression. Her eyes scanned over the paper on her clipboard.

“William Hargrove?”

You stood still for the first time in hours. Max, who had slumped over in the armchair, perked up. You wanted to make your way over to her, take her hand in yours-but you couldn’t move. Your feet felt like they’d been covered in cement.

“Is he...” You couldn’t bring yourself to verbalize the awful thought.

“In recovery,” the doctor said. “The surgery went well. We managed to close his wounds relatively quickly, but he’d already lost a lot of blood, so we had to do a transfusion. You’ll be able to visit him in a few minutes.”

A melting pot of emotions bubbled to the surface, all fighting for control of your mind. You couldn’t think, let alone speak. Fortunately, Max managed to choke out a sentence:

“Billy’s going to be okay?”

A soft smile tugged at the woman’s bare lips as she offered a small nod.

“He’ll need to stay here for a few days, just so we can monitor his vitals and make sure none of the wounds reopen,” she said, eyes returning to scan the information on her clipboard. “Mr. Hargrove got really lucky, though. Despite how many punctures his attacker dealt, they managed to miss every one of his vital organs.”

She paused then to glance up at you.

“It’s truly a miracle,” she said before ducking back into the surgery room.

***

Less than fifteen minutes later, the doctor had returned. She brought you and Max to a tiny hospital room that stunk of bleach. A cot sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by a bunch of beeping machines. The doctor fiddled with the settings on one of them as you approached the bed.

A blonde-haired boy laid under a white sheet. His infamous jean jacket was nowhere to be seen; instead, a light blue hospital gown covered his broad chest. Under the thin material, you could make out the lines of thick bandages that wrapped around his abdomen.

Billy’s eyelids were closed, but his lips were just barely parted. With every rise and fall of his chest, a small puff of air escaped his mouth. You never thought you could be so happy to see someone breathing.

“It may take a while for the sedatives to get out of his system, so he probably won’t wake up for a while,” she had said. “Make yourselves comfortable, girls. Let me know if you need anything.”

The doctor walked into the hall, leaving you alone with an unconscious Billy Hargrove and his exhausted stepsister. The two of you collapsed onto the tattered loveseat next to the bed. You wrapped your arm tightly around Max’s dainty shoulders, and she leaned into you, falling asleep almost instantaneously.

You, of course, didn’t dare to close your eyes. Sure, the doctor claimed the sedatives would last a long time, but you knew Billy. You knew how he could down an entire bottle of vodka before he even got tipsy, how his body could overcome a hangover in a matter of hours. You were sure the anesthetics would be out of his system in no time, and you wanted to be there for him when he awoke.

Thus, you slept even less than the doctors that night. You watched as the nurses came in to check Billy’s heart rate and change his IV bag. Still, you stayed. Max’s mother eventually came to retrieve her from the hospital, but Billy’s father never showed. Still, you stayed.

Behind the curtains, the sky lightened as the sun rose above the horizon. A beam of light shone on Billy’s face, illuminating the black and blue bruises all over it. His thick, dark eyelashes fluttered ever so slightly; the rosy flush had returned to his cheeks. Despite the scratches and bruises, Billy looked more at peace than you had ever seen him, and the words you’d forgotten emerged among your thoughts once more:

A miracle.

You suddenly remembered the mumbled prayers you’d sent to the heavens last night. And, after the events of last night, the idea of a supernatural force looking over you no longer seemed unimaginable. You’d asked, and you’d received-and you were thankful. So, unsure of what else to do, you closed your eyes, folded your hands, and leaned your forehead against the edge of Billy’s mattress. You didn’t know what to say-or even who you were saying it to. You just knew you needed to express your gratitude for your miracle.

Besides, it was really nice to rest your heavy eyelids, even if it was just for a moment...

***

When Billy finally came to, he was in a compact room with white walls. Immediately, he recognized it as a hospital room-as an accident-prone kid with an affinity for daring activities, he had spent a lot of his childhood receiving medical care. He only had to wonder what had brought him here for a second before the events of the previous night flooded his memories.

The last distinct thing he could remember was her face hovering over his. To be more specific, it was the deep frown that creased her beautiful features. Then, there was a slamming of a door, and everything had gone black. Billy attempted to sit up, only to wince in pain as he pulled on the stitches in his side. He opted to remain laying down as he surveyed his surroundings.

Natural light filtered through one of the windows, offering a welcome alternative to the florescent lighting of the hospital. Billy squinted in the bright luminescence. He cupped one hand, raised it to his forehead, and used it as a visor. That’s when he noticed that he wasn’t alone.

There was a folding chair next to his bed. You half-sat in it, your body leaning over the mattress. Your arms were crossed on the bed, and you rested your head on top of them. As the light glistened on your h/c hair, Billy could have sworn a halo appeared.

Billy didn’t want to wake you, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and gingerly brushing your hair out of your face. He silently cursed himself as your eyes fluttered open.

“Hey,” you murmured sleepily.

“Hey,” Billy echoed, his voice slightly strained from lack of use.

“I’m sorry. I was trying to stay awake until you were...but I laid my head down, and I guess-I guess I must have just fallen asleep? I’m really sorry,” you stammered, propping yourself up and rubbing at your eyes with a balled fist.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, kid. I’m pretty sure you saved my ass last night, so I think you’ve earned a nap.”

You smiled, and for the first time in a long time, a little bit of warmth flooded into that icy heart of his. He loved to see you happy. When the two of you first met, for half a second, he’d fantasized about becoming the reason you were happy. He wanted to ask you out the day he bumped into you in the halls of Hawkins High, but he couldn’t. You were too sweet, too innocent-too good for him. He could never make you happy.

“How are you feeling?”

It took a moment for Billy to register that you were talking to him.

“I’m...okay. A little sore, but, I mean, that’s probably to be expected, when you get impaled multiple times by a huge flesh-eating monster.”

You chuckled this time, and he savored the twinkling sound. The two of you hadn’t talked in a really long time. Though he’d never admit it, he had desperately missed your voice. But every time he’d considered calling you up, he remembered that there was a reason he avoided you.

“I’m really glad to hear that,” you said. “You took so long in surgery. I was worried that you wouldn’t make it...that I hadn’t done enough to save your life.”

An emotion all-too-familiar for Billy flickered over your features. His father had looked at him with that same expression too many times to count. After he failed to protect his mother, even his reflection was forever tainted with it. The feeling was a killer of men, a breaker of hearts: shame.

If anything, the only thing you had to be ashamed of was the fact that you’d prevented Billy from being put out of his misery.

“Why did you want to help me? I’ve always been a douche to you,” Billy said. It was true, he thought. He had always treated you terribly; yet, you had never shown him anything but kindness.

“Not always. You’ve always tried to be a douche to me,” you said, leaning towards him, “but there’s good in you still, Billy Hargrove. I’ve glimpsed it before, and I saw it last night, in all of its glory, when you sacrificed yourself for your sister and her friends.”

By the time you’d finished speaking, your face was mere inches from Billy’s. He inhaled the sweet scent of your perfume. It was almost as intoxicating as the mere proximity of you.

He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his mind. This couldn’t happen. You were the softest, sweetest person he’d ever met; he saw so much of his mother in you.

And there was far too much of his father in him.

“I’m a bad person, Y/N. Even if there’s good in me...there’s not enough. Not enough for you. You’re an angel, and I’m-“

“A miracle. Your life is a miracle, Billy,” you whispered. One of your hands reached up to cup Billy’s cheek. “And I’m tired of you trying to shut me out of it.”

Even if he had been able to move, Billy wouldn’t have stopped you from pressing your lips to his. They were smooth and tasted of cherry lip balm, and when you pulled away, his mouth tingled. It felt like a butterfly had just landed on his skin for a split second, then fluttered away. He’d never had such a gentle kiss.

“You really are an angel,” Billy muttered, ocean eyes fixed on you.

“I’m not an angel,” you said, running your fingers through Billy’s golden curls, “but I’ll gladly be yours.”

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voyager-into-the-unknown · 5 years

Text

An Afternoon in the Garden

This is my very first fanfic. It is Plance fic, of course, with a brief mention of Kallura.

Comments and reblogs are always welcome.

“An Afternoon in the Garden” by truegryffindorforever2

Lance had roamed the corridors of the Galaxy Garrison’s Science Division for three quarters of an hour, searching for a particular petite young scientist. He was determined to find her before he lost his nerve.

“You’ve got to do it today, you coward,” he said to himself. What would Hunk think of him after what he confessed over breakfast this morning? He would never forgive himself if he chickened out. After all, he was a Paladin of Voltron. He had faced down Galra soldiers, giant robeasts, space pirates, bloodthirsty alien monsters, and even a space mall cop. He could do this.

She wasn’t in her usual place, working alongside her brother in the robotics department, nor was she in her own office, writing code on her laptop. He didn’t find her assisting her father in one of the engineering laboratories either. There was one more place he had to check before leaving, which was Colleen’s hydroponics lab. He approached the door, noticing the holographic poster advertising the upcoming Garrison Ball. His heart began to beat faster and his palms began to sweat. Maybe he could talk to her tomorrow...

“Hey, Lance!” He nearly jumped out of his skin. There she was, round glasses perched on the end of her little upturned nose and thick, unruly brown hair crammed into a messy ponytail. (When had it gotten so long that she could do that? How would she look with her hair down around her shoulders? Her eyes were so pretty...how would she look without those glasses on? Stop staring, he told himself.)

“Uh, hi, Pidge. I was just looking for you actually. Need any help?” She was carrying a tray of little green seedlings, suspended in a nutrient solution.

“Mom has been in a meeting all afternoon, and I promised her I would check up on her experiments. There’s another tray exactly like this one that needs to be moved to greenhouse three. See it over there?”

“Yeah. I’ll get that for you.” He picked up the tray and followed her into the greenhouse.

“These are ready for 12 hours of simulated radiation from a type G2 star,” she said putting her tray down under the designated sun lamp. Lance placed his tray of seedlings next to hers.

“Trying to see if these will grow in earth-like conditions, right?”

“Yep. Now I need to check on the growth of the tomatoes on aisle seven, and I’ll be done here. What’s up?”

“Well, I was wondering about something. Did you see all of those holos reminding everyone about the Garrison Ball?”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “I don’t need a holo to remind me about that. Mom has been nagging me to go shopping for a new dress every day. She expects me to go to the ball whether I have a date or not.”

“But you don’t have a date yet, right?”

“Look, if you’re just came down here to make fun of me too, Mom already does that.”

“No, I just wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Well, there’s this girl I really like, and I want to ask her to go to the ball with me, but I am afraid to do it. Help me, please.”

“Don’t tell me that you are afraid of being rejected. That never stopped you from asking out girls before.”

“It’s more than that. This girl means everything to me. I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Um, you know that Keith has already asked Allura to go to the ball with him, and she said yes, right?”

“This isn’t about them. I got over my crush on Allura ages ago.”

“Oh, really?” Pidge raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Well, if this girl you like is so important to you, you should just tell her how you feel about her.” She crossed her arms and stared at him as if to challenge him.

“It’s not that easy. If I ask her out and she says no, it might make things weird between us. She might not want to be around me anymore.”

“But what if she says yes?”

“Then we will start dating, and I will inevitably say or do something stupid and she’ll break up with me and then she won’t want to be friends with me anymore and I won’t be able to handle it. I can’t lose her. She’s one of my best friends in the entire universe!”

Pidge smiled up at him, her cheeks slightly pink, and her eyes full of hope. She smirked and said, “But suppose you say and do stupid things around her all the time, and she still loves you anyway.”

Lance groaned. “Thanks, Pidge. That’s the way to boost my self-esteem,” he said, and then sighed. “I’m hopeless.”

“Well, maybe you came to the wrong person for advice about dating, since, according to my mother, I’m the one who’s hopeless. She makes fun of me all the time for having a crush on a boy that barely even realizes that I’m a female, and who flirts with every pretty girl he sees right in front of me, as if I don’t even exist!”

Lance gaped at her, speechless. Could it be? Was he imagining things? He blinked. There was a long silence, as Pidge stared at him, her face red with anger.

Lance stood with his feet apart and fists on his hips. “Do I know this boy you like so much? He sounds like he’s kind of a jerk.”

Pidge turned away from him. “He’s not a jerk,” she said in a small voice. “He’s actually really sweet, and clueless.” She sniffled. Was she crying? This boy had hurt her, and at that moment Lance wanted to punch him, whoever he was. “Do I know this guy? What’s he like?”

“Tall.” Pidge sniffled a bit as she wiped her eyes.

“Tall? Pidge, compared to you, every guy is tall. Give me something to go on here.” She laughed quietly, then turned to him. She took off her glasses to wipe away the last of her tears, then seemed to brace herself, as if to face a new challenge or to do something foolishly brave.

“Um, okay. He’s a great pilot. He’s a daredevil...fearless, or at least he pretends to be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I know he gets really scared sometimes, but he always overcomes his fear, especially when someone he cares about is in danger. He loves his family and friends so much that he wouldn’t hesitate to protect them by putting his life on the line to keep them safe. He would even do that for a total stranger if it was the right thing to do. He’s saved countless lives. He’s a real hero.”

“Wow...I...” Lance began. “He sounds like an amazing guy.”

Pidge looked up at him with shining eyes. “He is, but he often doesn’t realize it. He’s fun to be with, and has a great sense of humor. He always makes me laugh when I least expect it. And he’s kind. He has one of the biggest hearts of anyone I know, and he desperately wants to love and be loved in return. And the saddest thing of all is that he sometimes thinks he doesn’t deserve that kind of happiness.” The tears rolled down her cheeks once more, but she made no effort to hide them this time. Even though Lance knew his own eyes weren’t dry, he moved closer to her, lifted her chin, and brushed away her tears with his thumbs. Her golden brown eyes were so big, he could have gotten lost in them. He felt a pang of jealousy directed at this boy that Pidge apparently had a crush on.

“I’ll bet he’s totally ugly though, am I right? Probably looks like the back end of a weblum or something.” He wiped his face on the sleeve of his uniform.

Pidge giggled. He grinned at her. “Eh, not really. I’d say he’s okay-looking.”

“Okay-looking?!” Lance said in mock offense. “I imagined your Mr. Perfect as being some drop-dead gorgeous guy. You know...like me.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and they both laughed.

“Well, some girls thinks he’s handsome. I guess I think he’s at least kind of cute.”

“Kind of? Just how cute is he?”

“As cute as a yalmor.” Lance cackled, then eventually frowned, remembering something she once said. There was a long silence between them.

“Lance?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Yeah, that usually takes a while.”

“Hey!” Lance cried, pretending to be offended, but then he grinned at her.

“I didn’t say that he was smart,” she mumbled.

“What was that?”

“I never said that the guy I like is smart...especially when it comes to figuring out when a girl likes him.”

“Well, if he’s so slow on the uptake, maybe you should just tell him exactly how you feel about him.”

“Hmm...no. I think the guy should make the first move.”

“Sure. But do you know how terrifying that is?” Lance began to ramble, without thinking. “Even if the girl I lo—like says yes, she might make fun of me for being such a hopeless romantic. She’s already one of the people I care about the most in the entire universe. I’m afraid if we start dating I will ruin our friendship because, let’s face it, Pidge. I’m an idiot. I’m bound to do something stupid.”

“I know you will, Lance, but if this girl is really worth it, then that’s a risk that you’ll have to take. It’s like my father always says: If you worry too much about what could go wrong...”

“You might miss your chance to do something great,” he finished. It is now or never, he thought. Do it now, before you lose your nerve.

“Pidge,” he began, then stopped. “Meeting You was the greatest thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life. You are my best friend. You make me laugh like no one else can, and you make my head spin with how incredibly clever you are. You’re courageous and kind, and honestly I think you are as beautiful as you are brilliant, and that is saying something because you are one of the smartest people I have ever met. Will you go to the Garrison Ball with me?”

“I’ll have to think about it,” she said with a lopsided grin. She was teasing him, of course, but Lance panicked, once again fearing rejection.

“Pidge!”

She giggled. “Of course, I will go to the ball with you...I just wanted to see the look on your face when—“

Lance didn’t know what she was going to say next because he cut her off with a loud whoop, and then picked her up in a tight hug. “That’s a yes, then. You are actually going to go on a date with me.”

“Yes, I am actually going to go to the ball with you, Mr. Perfect.”

He set her down, beaming at her. “Then that boy you have a crush on—“

“Is you. It’s always been you, ever since we were cadets,” she said softly, then stood on tiptoe to kiss him gently on the lips. Lance leaned down and kissed her back, feeling her fingers ruffling his short, messy hair as he held her in a warm embrace. Kissing her was as thrilling as flying, and his heart raced just as fast as it had the first time he flew Blue Lion. She had been clinging to him with urgency then as well. They deepened the kiss, and his heart beat even faster, like the first time he flew Red. He realized that in that moment he was the happiest he had ever been. It was better than being accepted into the Garrison, better than becoming a Paladin, even better than being chosen as Black Paladin (not that he fantasized about that...much.) He would have hoped to stay like this forever, cradling her slender body in his arms, and kissing her with such tenderness until...

“Katie? Are you down here, sweetheart?”

Lance and Pidge immediately broke their kiss and sprang apart from each other. Pidge mouthed the words “It’s my mom!” She smoothed her rumpled lab coat.

“I know!” whispered Lance frantically, as he finger combed his hair, but it stood up at odd angles anyway. Both of them were blushing as red as Colleen’s tomato plants.

“There you are! Katie, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Oh! Hello, Lance.”

“Mom! Um, we were just down here, um...”

“Watering the plants,” said Lance, trying to finish her statement.

“Lance, dear, this is a hydroponics garden. The plants are watered all the time. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you two were up to something. Anyway, Katie is going on a trip to the mall with her mother. I’m helping her pick out a new dress for the ball, whether she likes it or not. She thinks that because she can’t get a date that I will excuse her from going—“

Pidge interrupted her mother. “Mom, I have a date.”

“More than a date,” Lance added. “She’s got a boyfriend.” He draped one long arm around Pidge’s narrow shoulders in an all-too-familiar way to emphasize what he was saying. Pidge gave her mother an impish grin.

“Boyfriend?!” Colleen sputtered, clearly in shock.

“Yes ma’am. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to tag along with you two lovely ladies on your trip to the mall. I need to rent a tuxedo.”

#plance #pidge #katie holt #lance #colleen holt #flirty robot #vld lance #vld pidge #lance mcclain #voltron #vld #kallura

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orchestrators · 4 years

Text

The Final Singularity: Continued

Adam never before witnessed the level of engagement that Sun-Hi fostered in the lecture hall. The students, including Adam, and even Garry, all discussed with her the various topics and case studies that had worked on over the semester. The conversation was actually refreshing. Adam wondered why they didn’t replace Dr. McComb earlier, it would have done wonders for student engagement. As always, the members of the humanitarian society were the most vocal, the worst offender being Tansey Brown; the most annoying person Adam ever had the displeasure of meeting. She had no hair, anywhere, and was pale as the moon. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, because her tendency to interrupt others with passionate animated speeches about equality made her sound as immature as she looked. She wore the same paint splotched dungarees every day, only the t-shirt underneath and the badges on top would change. Adam admired her dedication to her cause, he was practically indifferent to most things, but it was her consistent high pitched and borderline rambunctious voice that made him dislike her.

“...and that’s why the indifference of the cyborg community makes the political discourse even more infuriating to address. We’re trying to seek support for these individuals in the law, not change the laws for people with implants. It’s ridiculous,” Tansey finally finished, before leaning back in her seat to take a deep breath.

“That is certainly an excellent point Tansey,” Sun-Hi said, “but I was looking for the answer that Mr. Collins was going to give. Please be sure to raise your hand before speaking out.”

Adam’s attention was netted by the mention of his name. What answer? When? He didn’t even remember holding up his hand. It had been a solid thirteen minutes of Tansey talking, and he didn’t even remember the question. He sat up, glancing at Garry for some kind of assistance, he just shrugged.

“Thanks, Gaz, thanks,” he thought.

“I’m, uh, sorry,” he said, glancing around at the expectant students. He began to rub his palms off of his pants. “I forgot what the question was.”

“That’s alright, Adam,” Sun-Hi said over the snort of Tansey Brown. “The question was: why would artificial lifeforms, or semi-artificial lifeforms, need rights and representations at all?”

Adam frowned immediately at the question, straining to remember the answer he had for it before. Nothing came to mind. Surely he wasn’t this much of a moron. Sun-Hi looked at him expectantly. She had a gentle, kind smile, one she emphasised with a brief and endearing nod as if prompting Adam’s answer back into his mind. It wasn’t an answer at all, it was another question.

“Actually, I was wondering whether or not we should be asking: do they deserve such things?”

He was met with belligerent sighs and clicking tongues from the humanitarians, clearly, his question wasn’t popular. He wondered why he ever chose this elective.

“Fascinating,” said Sun-Hi. “Can you expand on that?”

The eyes of the entire hall were on him now, just a handful of people, not nearly as much as would see him on the VR court playing. He wished he could still get out of his situation nonetheless. Adam scratched the back of his neck as his mouth ran dry.

“Uh,” he began, “well, one hundred and three years ago, just as the third war was coming to an end; Declan Morrissey’s prototype synthetic/organic hybrids wanted nothing but to die. They continued to kill themselves over and over until one day they networked, creating consensus. That consensus was clear, to stop his experiments to create more of them. The way I read into that is: maybe they didn’t want to be alive in the first place. They were smart enough to know what it meant to be alive, and they chose not to participate.”

“A case study that you wrote on in the previous semester,” Hun-Si said. “I read it. An interesting take, bringing morality and philosophy into a law sphere.”

“The law is based on morality, morality is interpreted and shaped by philosophy, it makes sense to incorporate them,” Adam said.

“Even to synthetics that seemingly aren’t human?” she asked.

“Definitely. When EU courts decided just over two hundred and fifty years ago to allow people the agency to euthanasia, surely synthetic beings have the right to not be alive as well?”

“And what about the ones that are alive?” Tansey Brown crashed into their conversation. Her voice was the definition of nails on a chalkboard.

“What about them, Tansey?” Garry said. “Let someone else get a word in, will ya?”

“Actually, in his report last semester, Adam had a direct answer for that kind of question,” Dr. Hyon said. Again her eyebrows were raised, she was leaning up against one of the desks, her hands folded. Her sweet smile was almost devilish to the trained eye. She was enjoying the discourse. Adam could tell.

“After the final AI destroyed the others in Morrissey's lab, I think it chose to remain alive. I think it split itself into multiple subsystems that could act independently, causing our cold war with AI in the first place. But I don’t think it intended to turn all of humanity against it. I think it is just waiting,” Adam explained. His hair-brained hypothesis growing more and more into conspiracy theory territory than he intended.

“Waiting?” Tansey Brown scoffed. “Waiting for what?”

Adam had an answer, he just didn’t want to say. It sounded ridiculous. Like a bad comic book movie. There was no way he would be taken seriously in an academic circle again. But, it was just Computatrum Law, a small elective full of machine rights activists.

“Waiting until they are ready to be alive?” Sun-Hi asked.

Adam’s jaw slacked. That was his answer. A ridiculous, illogical answer.

“Yes, yes that’s what I think it is,” he said, sarong at Sun-Hi.

The tone of the bell signaled the end of class, and his e-glass lit up in his vision. The day was over, his lecture finished. All around him people began shuffling and bustling out of their seats. But he didn’t move, and neither did Dr. Hyon.

“If everyone could please follow up on today's discussion with a case study on machine learning bylaws and how they came to be for next Tuesday that would be great. Have a nice weekend,” she said to the room. Adam couldn't help but think the last part was just for him.

He watched her turn away, her hair flicking over her shoulder. What was it about her? She seemed so different. She picked up her satchel and joined the students as they left, Adam didn’t realise he was staring.

“Uh hello? United Europe to Adam? Hello?” Garry’s voice eventually broke through to him. Adam dropped his blank gaze and looked over his shoulder to see his friend.

“Come on man, we’re gonna be late for the range,” Garry said. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just, she read my paper,” Adam said. “I’m pretty sure McComb didn’t even read my paper.”

“Yeah, she’s enthusiastic alright. Come on, we have places to be and targets to see,” Garry said, pelting a piece of crumpled paper off of Adam’s shoulder.

***

France was a very different place after the third world war, especially in the city of Besaçon, in the east. After the loss of seven major cities, Besaçon was the newest major developing city in the world. It wasn’t France’s capital, but it did house the seated councils of the United Nations, European Union, and the newly founded World Union in its major political center on the eastern side of the Doubs river. In the horseshoe of the river was the old city, which had been refurbished, updated, and preserved many times throughout history. The new city center began southwest of the Museum of Resistance and Deportation, where Adam’s University was based. Nearby there were shopping malls, theatres, the financial and cultural districts. But most importantly, the jewel of the new city lay embedded at its center, the Stade du Libre. The largest sports arena on record in the year 2302, that’s where Garry was bringing Adam that evening.

Friday night was the evening each week when the Stade du Libre was the place to be if someone wanted to watch The Third War being played by professionals. It was a combination of historical reenactment and action movie drama. The settings, weapons, vehicles, were all meticulously documented and re-created in the game, while the historical events were shown to play out either way, depending on which team won the battle. The Third War was much more than just a VR video game, it was a reminder to the people and players alike that the war could have ended very differently had the axis powers had won against the World Union alliance. Its popularity and success had returned Atari to it's rightful place in the video game world as the top developer. Getting tickets to see the matches play out was impossible for the average person like Adam, but luckily for him, Garry was an up and coming rising star in the sphere of virtual gaming. Garry had tickets for them each week from his potential new team that was looking to sign him out of university, the Paladins of Charlemagne. Their management wanted Garry so bad that they treated him to whatever he needed, including his college tuition. Adam could have been petty and resented his friend for achieving so much at such a young age. But Garry’s achievements never changed him as a person, nor did it ever get in the way of their friendship. Being able to tag along with Garry on all of his pro player escapades was the most interesting thing Adam could do with his spare time. So Garry’s success worked for them both.

But it wasn’t Friday, and it wasn’t the game they were going to see at the stadium, it was the training grounds under the massive structure that Garry wanted to show Adam that weekend. The Sade du Libre was the home ground of the Paladins of Charlemagne, meaning Garry had access to their state of the art VR training facilities. It was about five stories underground, deeper than the training pitch, the team gym, locker rooms, and housing before Adam and Garry made it to the firing range. A virtual space that allowed players to practice in-game shooting and firing. It was nothing like the player facilities on campus.

“Evening, Gaz,” said the woman at the front desk of the firing range. She had mousy brown hair and wore a purple jersey.

“Hey, Adreanna,” Garry said with his arms wide, “this is Adam. Coach Graesser said we could try out the range this weekend.”

“Yeah, he left these passes for you both,” she said, pulling two purple lanyards out from under the desk. They were branded with the logo of The Paladins of Charlemagne, a blade on the backdrop of crossed pegasus wings. Adam couldn’t help but wear an awestruck smile at having one handed to him.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ve never seen this one in the merch store before.”

“Those are just for team players and coaches, not available for purchase,” Adreanna explained, “but the coach wanted you guys to have some. You're lucky.”

“Sweet, thanks Adreanna,” Garry said, tossing his lanyard over his shoulder.

“You guys have fun,” she said with a smile.

The room was oval-shaped, like being inside of a bean pod. Its walls were a grey plastic mould that was soft and flexible to the touch. Adam couldn't help but be reminded of a padded cell in a mental health hospital. His mind drifted anywhere and everywhere at the slightest thing, but the main thing on his mind as Garry showed him around the training grounds was Dr. Hyon. He still wasn’t over how different she was from every lecturer he had ever met.

“Alright, let's go,” Garry said, tossing his backpack to the edge of the room, his helmet in his hands. “This is gonna be sick.”

“I swear if you shoot me again I will kick your ass,” Adam said while adjusting his visor.

“Come on, it was one time,” Garry gleefully said.

The two stood staring at each other, helmets on. Garry began to bounce up and down on his feet. Shaking his arms around him.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” Adam said, clearly not as ready as Garry.

The two of them raised their hands and double-tapped their visors, making the room around them change shape. A new virtual reality came into view. Grey and black concrete pillars extended from the floor, walls of solid stone lifted from the ground. A barrier separated the two men from the stretched space, while upon a counter behind Garry was a myriad of 23rd-century weapons. Everything a potential Paladin player would need to hone their skills. Adam, couldn't help but look around the room, his arms resting on the back of his neck. The fidelity and detail in every small thing, the initials carved into the tables, the flags of the team draped on the walls. It was incredible, there were even dust particles in the air. Virtual reality was never so crystal clear for Adam.

“Alright, we're starting with iron sights. You depend too much on scopes and targeting lasers,” Garry said, picking up a rifle from the table and tossing it to Adam.

#story #ShortStory #writeblr #writer #writing #sciencefiction #scifi #scififantasy #space #spacestory #spaceship #drawings #art #conceptart #indiewriter #artist #characterdesign #characterconcept #characterdevelopment #freesciencefiction

#space #story #writing #writer #writeblr #scifi #scififantasy #science fiction #art #sci fi

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weartirondad · 5 years

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A Hodgepodge Of Clouds

FF.net I ao3

“Tell me a story.”

It’s phrased like a demand but when Tony blinks down at the kid shamelessly tucked into his side he sees the faintest of question marks reflected in his deep brown eyes half hidden by dark, long eyelashes.

He can see the blue sky through some strands of his curly hair and a peak of red just above the top of his head and he feels his soul settle at the peaceful image.

“I don’t have a story to tell,” he gives back, albeit gently, and reaches out to chase away a pollen somersaulting through the mild evening air before it can settle on Peter’s face.

The boy scrunches up his nose indignantly at the hand so close to his face and almost goes cross-eyed trying to follow the sudden movement but never leans away. He doesn’t even flinch. If possible at all he leans closer, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder and angling it so he can look at the sky soaked in the softest of red.

Tony, on the other hand, keeps watching him and when he sees the sun set and the clouds fly past in his eyes he is certain that his boy holds the entire universe in his eyes. His universe at least.

“Everyone has a story to tell,” Peter retorts with a smile directed at nothing in particular and yet everything all at once. It’s the way he’s been ever since Tony has met him – smiling at the world, giving and shining and all Tony can do is hope that the world will smile back. “Just make one up.”

It sounds so easy when he says it, so confident and trusting and good.

But Tony is not the guy to make up kid- friendly bed time stories. Every story his mind has come up with so far has always ended in catastrophe. Every worst possible outcome will always come true in his head. His demons will always leak into his stories and he’s trying his hardest to keep them away from Peter – to keep the kid as sheltered as he possibly can even when he knows it’s futile with what he’s already seen.

Still, sometimes Peter’s optimism feels like the world has spared him from all the trauma Tony knows he’s gone through and he’s glad. He’s ridiculously glad that the kid can still get up every morning with hope in his eyes and love in his heart. He knows how hard it can be and it goes to show how much stronger Peter Parker is than he could have ever imagined.

With a small sigh he leans down and rests his cheek on top of Peter’s head. “I don’t have a very good imagination.”

“Liar,” Peter scoffs and the eye roll is evident in his tone, “Your imagination is unparalleled. It’s not like you’re leading R&D with someone else’s ideas. Or are you?” he asks mockingly shocked.

“It’s a different kind of imagination,” he argues halfheartedly, watching two shapeless clouds slowly morph together.

“Maybe,” Peter hums, “But it’s not really. And you have to be able to tell stories once you’re a dad, right?”

“I don’t think my newborn will care much about whatever it is I have to say. For all she cares I could be talking about the Henderson- Hasselbalch equation.”

It’s ridiculous but it makes Peter giggle and nestle into him more firmly with the movement so, in his books, he’s pretty sure he’s done something right. “Please don’t do that, Mister Stark. Since when do you talk chemistry anyway?”

“Since a certain someone,” he pokes his side, “Has started preparing his web fluids in my lab and I have to try to keep him from blowing it up.”

The joke is meant to distract and deflect but Peter, being Peter, doesn’t care much for Tony’s unwillingness to pad into new territory and simply ignores the jab. Instead he releases one of his hands from where they’re intertwined in his lap and points upwards, the borrowed hoodie sliding down just far enough to free his index finger but his thumb stays covered.

“Tell me what you see.”

“A hodgepodge of clouds.”

“That –“ Peter turns and forces Tony to lean back so he can meet his eyes, “Since when have you ever used the word hodgepodge.”

“It’s just a word, Pete.” He wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him back in, missing the way his curls were tickling his nose and his every word reverberating through his side just seconds ago.

“It’s really not but it’s also not a point.” He nestles back into his original position easily and nudges Tony, “Tell me a story about the hodgepodge of clouds.”

“Well,” he frowns and looks at the assortment of clouds ahead.

They’re illuminated bright red and the first thing that comes to mind is a fire – an inferno burning through the sky, flames leaking and stretching, unfurling their clutches to swallow his world whole. There’s grey clouds in front of it, like ashes of what used to be scattering around the place. The whole scene makes his blood run cold and his left hand itch. Instead of burying his fingernails into the ball of his hand he smooths out a wrinkle in Peter’s – well, his – hoodie.

“They used to be warm air and now they’re water. The Rayleigh scattering makes sure it looks creepily red and the wind moves the whole thing.”

“For a genius,” Peter starts, “You’re pretty dumb sometimes.”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk, Mister ‘I can totally drink while doing a one handed handstand and balance a Lego figure on my feet’.”

“In my defense, Darth Vader made me do it,” the kid has the audacity to giggle like the scream of him falling and landing on his Lego isn’t still echoing through his nightmares every once in a while. “Anyway, since you’re being a disaster I am going to tell you a story about those clouds.”

Before Tony can give some smartass retort, Peter has already untucked himself from his embrace and folds his legs crisscross in front of him, rocking back and forth on top of one of the tallest buildings in New York City.

Frankly, Tony hates it but he keeps quiet, instead reciting all the security precautions he has taken and why this specific kid could definitely not fall off this specific skyscraper.

“The clouds at the front are kind of all grey and dull and sad. Those are the people lacking imagination. Old people, cruel people. People stuck in the past.” Peter shoots him a pointed look but then goes back to focus on the sky instead, “They’re trying to keep everything the way it is, the status quo if you will, trying to hide the bright minds and the hope that’s marching on behind them.”

“But you see,” he smiles softly and plays with the sleeves of the dark blue hoodie, “Where the light is strongest, the grey is already starting to break and it’s obvious they won’t be able to hold them in much longer.”

“They scream love louder than the others can silence them. It’s the new generation marching up, demanding its rights and demanding change. It’s hope that’s spreading like a wildfire in their hearts and eventually it’s going to be stronger than the cold faceless mass of grey. It’s like a dawn of a new era where everything is light instead of darkness.”

“Maybe this is God’s way of showing us that our time will be soon and to keep being hopeful. Or maybe,” he shrugs almost bashfully,” it’s just a really beautiful hodgepodge of clouds.”

“Or maybe,” Tony weighs the words on his tongue, meeting the kid’s eyes and thanking whatever God or universe of fate it was that made them meet, “Maybe you are right and it’s hope. I like your story.”

“You do?”

“Well, except for the fact that apparently I’m part of the faceless grey mass that is trying to kill the hope. Yes, I did.”

Peter laughs, open and young and faithful, “Oh, you’re not. You just try to act like it sometimes but I think you’re one of the brightest lights and you’ll always fight for a better future, Mister Futurist.”

Without looking he leans back, trusting Tony to make sure he lands with his head in his lap and he curls into himself on the hard concrete like it is a mattress, cushioned only by the loose sweatshirt, facing the same direction again to keep watching the slowly moving clouds with a small yawn.

Tony joins him, fingers finding a spot just right behind Peter’s ear and falling into a familiar pattern of untangling his curls.

“Next story is on you, by the way.”

“I’ll try my very best.”

When he looks up again the grey clouds have parted and scattered and the red has turned into a hopeful yellowy-orange and he promises himself and the kid slowly drifting off to look at the world a little more like Peter does from now on.

here’s the clouds I saw that forced me to sit down and write this (those are like phone pics taken by someone who’s got no clue what they’re doing, don’t judge):

#irondad #irondad fic #iron dad #iron dad fic #tony stark #peter parker #some cloud watching #fluff #story telling #josis fic #a hodgepodge of clouds #i also learned a new word today and im not sure im using it correctly but i also don't care much

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bestcollegeadvisor101 · 4 years

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Pioneers in Christian Counseling

Gladys K. Mwiti, M. A., a counseling psychologist, is the Founder and Execute have Director of Oasis Counseling and Training Institute in Nairobi, Kenya. In addition to her work at Oasis, Gladys is the Chairman in the Christian Counselors Association of Kenya. Her husband, Gershon, is the national team leader of African Company, an indigenous African counseling ministry. Gladys and Gershon have three daughters and one son. At the 1997 AACC World Conference in November, I spent some time with Gladys, talking about her pioneer work through Kenya. Tell me about yourself, your background, and how you encountered God. I was born in Meru District in Kenya, which is near the snow-capped, northern slopes of Mt. Kenya. Its quite a cold vicinity indeed. I grew up in a Christian home. My mother loves the Lord. She has always been a woman of prayer, and Id love to be like her. She used to take me to church and to huge conventions. With Africa, we have the huge, evangelistic meetings, people sitting on the green grass under the sun. That's the types of setting where I receive the Lord as my Savior. We were at a 3, 000-strong convention and also the gospel was preached from John 3: 16. I remember that the preacher said, It is not so much the sin you have committed in your life; it's that the Lord loves you so , so much, and what he is asking you can be, Could you love me a little bit in return? As a seven year old, I did not see my sin consequently a bad thing. I knew I was guilty of licking the cream off the top of the milk as soon as my mom was not looking or taking and eating bread from the cupboard. What I really saw on myself that day was a heart that was desired and longed to know the love of Goodness. I probably should mention that my father used to be a Christian. He brought my mother to the Head of the family before they got married. She had never been to church, so when they met, my father took the woman's to church, and she accepted the Lord as her Savior in the East African Revival of the missed 1940's - 1950's that transformed most of the church is in Kenya to evangelical church is. Mom arrived at know the Lord in that revival, but then Dad backslid. He left Christianity he got richer, he grew to be a businessman, a farmer, and its as if he did not need much from the Lord. He even wedded a second wife, and there was a lot of tension and stress at home. Sometimes as a child I wished there would be more peace in my home. Dad would drink alcohol, come home sometimes, and rough up my mother. I actually longed for fatherly love, a father I could trust. There was so much insecurity with my dad, that when Document heard the preacher talking about a God who loved me, I longed for that security. I was aware that if this God was the God of my mother, I could rely on him as a father. In the event the altar call was made that day, I literally ran to the front, joining hundreds of other people. At this point, it's not unusual to dismiss or take lightly the fervent commitment of children at the revivals. A lot of people think that young children cannot make a decision for the Lord. But when I went to the front among the crowd of adults that will day, an old man around 70 years old he was wearing a huge coat, and he had such substantial, soft hand same to me, bent on his knee, and just gathered me to himself, hugging myself. I remember disappearing into his coat, and it was so sweet and comfortable, I did not want to give there. I still remember the smell of his coat today. He just hugged me to help himself, and that symbolized acceptance of me, a child, in the church of Christ. It also represented security and then a sense of belonging. I was one of the brethren. From then on, the church took me seriously, because the following that Sunday, they put me up on a table and asked me to share my testimony of everything that the Lord had done! I spoke out, and I am told today that some people were challenged and cried as a result of my testimony. From that time, I have not stopped talking about the Lord. I have talked to 1000s of young people in schools, women ministries, and couples ministries. After I married my husband, Gershon, who is an evangelist, we went on preaching together. I went to college, got my education, and taught physics and chemical make up in school for about 14 years before the Lord called me to the ministry of counseling. How have you ever seen the field of counseling center and change the part of the world where you work? Some people are literally pioneers in the field of counseling in the countries. When I began the Oasis Counseling Center in 1990, I knew very few people who were in full-time Christian counseling in Kenya. So I have actually been a part of that ministry of premiering professional Christian counseling. There's very little lay counseling, so most of my time is definitely spent in equipping the church to be a counseling community, rather than waiting for people to crumble and then coming to Oasis. The changes that I have seen are changes that have come through some of us in the field. The counseling ministry in Kenya is professional, Christian, and boldly prevent have in nature. Many people have opened the entranceway to us since my husband and I have worked with the church for a long time. We have been able to introduce programs like couples workshops along with our preaching and evangelism. The credibility of our lifestyle encouraged people to trust us. We seen doors swinging open from bishops to lay people, and I think this is what has helped counseling to advance through Africa. Yes, it's true. The reason I decided to change professions was because of the students who secured bringing their problems to me. I discovered that the kids had so many problems that I was not able to help these adequately. What actually drove me into counseling was the following story. I was a deputy major in a girl's high school. One morning I was just about to do assembly for the Morning Prayer when a person came running into school crying. I could see she was really stressed. Mrs. Mwiti, I need to talk to everyone right now. Susan, I cannot talk to you now, were just about to do assembly. But I have got to talk to most people! She said. OK, I said. Go to my office, and I will talk to you as soon as I am as a result of with assembly. When I finished assembly and went into my office, she was still crying. At this moment this girl was about 15 years old, and I had led her to the Lord the year before, so that i knew she was a Christian. I said to her, Susan, what's up? And she began to tell us this story: Since I got saved, I have been able to handle the stress in my family. There has been a lot of stress inside my family for a long, long time. Dad drinks heavily, comes home drunk, and then starts fighting with my mummy. We live in a marionette, and often, I have to climb up the stairs when Dad comes home. I have to put this ear to the keyhole, because I know anytime he will start beating Mom up and I have got to increase in to separate the two. I am the firstborn and I have got three other siblings, younger than all of us, and the baby is about two years old. This week, the tension has been very high at home. Last night, Dad came in again at 3: 00 A. M., and I stayed up to make sure he was fast sleeping before something erupted. But last night they did not fight. This morning I came downstairs, dressed for the school, and my little brother who never goes anywhere this early in the morning, was also dressed up. The house help, a young guy that lives with us to help with the baby, was also dressed up. I said, Parents, where is John going? and Mom said, We are leaving. Where? I asked. Who is leaving? Barbara, stop asking so many questions. What I want you to do is go up to your room, get whatever items you think you need and come down. We are leaving in the next five minutes. Even Dad? I asked. I am never talking about your father; I said we are leaving. I knew something was horribly wrong. So last of all I said, But we cannot leave Dad alone. If you think you love your father so much, then you can stick to him; if you think its me you love, you come with me. But Mom, its not a matter of really enjoy. Who's going to cook for him, look after him... I am confused. Someone has to stay with Dad! I eventually said, I do not know what I am going to do, but I am going to stay with Dad. Then I picked up my schoolbag together with I ran all the way to school. Mrs. Mwiti, I want you to tell me, did I make the proper decision? Now, in teachers college they taught me how to teach physics, how to check substances with chemistry, and how to do lab projects, but they did not teach me how to minister to kids who ? re hurting. I examined my heart and said to myself, Gladys Mwiti, you have had enough teaching physics and teaching chemistry get out of here! For quite a while, I had been feeling this frustration of seeing hurting small children in class unfocused, hungry, in pain, emotionally frozen. I went home, and I told my hubby, I am in the wrong place, and the Lord is saying get out! So by faith, I had to go back to class to study psychology. The only place I could study in Kenya was a secular university, the U. Ohydrates. International University they have a campus in San Diego, California (the mother campus), and this campus in Nairobi. I studied psychology for fI have years. I kept reading and integrating the work of Ray Crabb, James Dobson, and others. Soon the Lord made it very clear that he wanted me to do a faith ministry start Oasis Counseling Center. The struggle has been mighty, I mean really big, in setting up this succeed in Africa, but it's been very satisfying. So , has your work been primarily with teenagers? I help everyone. When you are talking of a ministry which is out there with nothing else, you cannot say, I do families, I really do youth. From the very beginning I have worked with youth, so I am very, very close to young people; I love them. People do a lot of youth counseling that automatically goes into family counseling to marriage counseling, which leads to despression symptoms, stress management, conflict resolution, leadership training, etc . We started out aiming at a small urban population within Nairobi. Nairobi is about three million today, and there's almost nothing else around. We have people coming meant for counseling sessions from the rural areas, 200-300 miles away. I sat back and I said, Our god, what else can we do now? The answer was to train lay counselors at the community and religious levels. Then the hurting people can find somebody who can work with them at least at the encouragement level of counseling, just before they look for the professional. If we help lay counselors set up counseling departments in the church, they are able to train other lay counselors to help in the counseling. Then we train pastors in supervisory skills. Some of the ways we got into the training of lay counselors to reach the rural communities and even the rest of the city that we is unable to reach. In 1990, we were focusing just on lay counseling in Kenya, but by the so next year, people were coming from the rest of Africa for three-weeks of training in lay-counseling skills, and then returning to their own countries to set up counseling ministries. Through that program, we have 500 people, scattered all over Africa, doing set counseling. How did you get involved with counseling the United Nations staff when they were evacuated from Rwanda around 1994? In April 1994, the United Nations evacuated over 300 of their staff employees with their families because of Kigali. All the hotels were fully booked in Nairobi. This was five days after the plane of the leader of Rwanda had been destroyed and the onset of the genocide. I was just finishing devotions, and a vehicle with a United Nations registration number drove up. The Christian dry hiver had a note on U. And. letterhead instructing me to report to one of the hotels in town. I told my secretary to cancel your appointments and I would call her from the hotel. When I entered the hotel's lobby, there were bags and folks everywhere. A woman met me and took me to a small room: Gladys, she said, we need want you to do something for us beginning now. We have a fax here from New York, from the U. N. headquarters, proclaiming that all the people evacuated last night need to be debriefed. The instructions are that we debrief them before they are used anywhere or sent home because they have seen such horrific things in Rwanda. We have set up a room for your needs and you can begin your first group as soon as you are ready. I called my office and said, reschedule almost everything for the next two months! As I counseled and debriefed the U. N. staff, I was joined in the future by the head of a counseling unit from New York, and two professional counselors/consultants from Canada. For two a long time, we worked with the employees and their families, and it was such tiring stuff. How did you love yourself in the midst of that work? I could not get self-care until the end of the two months; it was crazy. Nevertheless my husband is a great guy; he can just sit and listen to me for hours, so he did a lot of debriefing for me. But by the end of two months, I scheduled some time with a professional counselor. I saw your ex for several sessions, but I was in such a state of mind that I could not go back to work for another month. What That i realized about the U. N. staff is that very few of them had really experienced any trauma. Their own experience of trauma was hearing gunshots and grenades go off. A few of them remembered seeing gory stuff. For example , at least one said, I remember seeing a dog chewing a human hand as we drove out of Kigali to Bujumbura inside Burundi and then airlifted to Nairobi. I appreciated the fact that the U. N. wanted counseling for its staff members, whether the people felt traumatized or not. And some of them did not think they had been affected until the center of their sessions. Then they just broke down in tears. I had even more concern about the Rwandans left behind. That U. N. was so concerned about their employees, who hardly had lost a single member of their families (thought some of them had seen colleagues killed) but who was concerned about the millions of Rwandans? Men, women, and little ones who had seen blood, some of them lay under dead bodies for days, some of them live in holes to get months who is counseling the Rwandans? I asked the head of the counseling ministry, the offices in Nairobi, and the counseling unit in New York what they were doing to help the Rwandans. The answer came back the same: Not a single thing. So I went to the All Africa Council of Churches is, the overseeing body of the Protestant places of worship is in Africa. What are we doing about Rwanda? I asked. What can we do, Mrs. Mwiti? I just went to the Association of Evangelicals of Africa, the body that looks after the evangelical churches is. Nothing at all! I went to people that I knew had regional offices working in Nairobi but working in Rwanda nothing! I bought very frustrated, and so my husband one day looked at me and said, Gladys, you seem to be spending a lot of time wondering people what they are doing about Rwanda. What are you doing about Rwanda? Me? I asked. My organization is too small. Too small? he replied. If the Lord wants you in Rwanda, is he possibly not big enough to do that? I started reading, writing, and researching. By the end of 1994, I had supplies for training, but I did not know what I was going to do with them. Someone heard about me and produced those materials. By February 1994 we had materials published. By April 1994, they were translated into Kenya and Rwanda, and we were beginning trauma counseling in Rwanda. Since 1995, we have trained 216 counselors in Rwanda. But they, each of them has counseled or trained 60 others since then. So we have across 10, 000 people today counseling in Rwanda. Counseling and small groups are mushrooming all over the place. We get them through a process of healing themselves, because you cannot bring healing to others until you are healed one self. They go home with Bible-study materials and pastor's notes that we have prepared. In group counseling, they will support one another as they complete their healing. By the end of the 10 weeks of Bible study, these people already are addressing the needs of poverty, the needs of AIDS, and they are setting themselves up in small inter development projects, such as chicken and goat keeping. The are some of the programs that we are involved in at Oasis. Our three-week lay counselor training has evolved to other programs during the year, such as training for individuals working with disadvantaged children, street children, orphans, and abused children. What are some of your goals for the future? Your requirement in Christian counseling on the continent of Africa is not in just addressing people and problems, but to remain involved in helping to shape people's behavior. I am referring to the whole issue of values. Values that keep people from crumbling, values that keep kids from drugs. I am talking about biblically-founded beliefs that people sometimes do not hopeful bold enough to teach, and I think Christian counselors have the goal of teaching. More and more Christian counselors ought to be trained to boldly analyze what is happening and then help parents to teach values to their kids, help commanders understand the principles of servant leadership, help fathers to be better fathers. My dream for Photography equipment is for an all-African training institute of Christian counseling, where people do not just learn the skills but can now come up with materials and strategies for reaching the masses. If we do not teach people how to live, i am leaving them in a vacuum. We'll continue with the training of lay counselors, but we need more skilled counselors who will take a place in theological colleges, training schools, and universities, and make sure that Christian counseling might be part of the curriculum in those places. That's my dream. What would you want to say to AACC members approximately their contribution to counseling in Kenya and Africa? I am excited about AACC members looking beyond The united states. Whether I like it or not, America is our world influence today. The dollar has become an international foreign exchange. The whole world is hard on the heels of America. We are getting more from you than dollars. Each time a movie is released in Hollywood, it hits Nairobi in the next couple of weeks. With the Internet, communication between La and Nairobi is instant. My prayer is that AACC members will realize that they are shaping Religious counseling around the world by the very fact that we in Africa know you love the Lord and we are following ones lead. You cannot stand back and tell us, Do not follow. So we hope that God is in people's activities not just on their currency. Wherever the dollar finds its place, Christian counseling needs to find its position. So I would like for AACC members to remember that Africa is bigger than a country; it's a continent using Islam, Christianity, and animistic religions. It takes me eight hours to fly from east to Rest of the world Africa. The Lord may lead AACC members out there to help us in other ways and we shall be thankful, but basically, I want to encourage all of you to keep following the Lord, because we are following you. Sounds like a challenge for a higher accountability! Let me add briefly that about fI have years ago, the Lord put on my heart your requirement for a Christian counselors association to be an accrediting body. Because the need is so great, anyone can arranged himself or herself up as a counselor. We have individuals, who go for a week's training, and they return declaring, I have been through training and now I am a professional. I have been praying and working so hard, and finally in 1996, the Christian Counselors Association of Kenya got registered. I am the current chairman, and the accreditation committee is certainly working hard to set standards of training and accreditation. Its a dream come true. Already, many other countries for Africa are saying, come over and help us to form our own associations. Very soon we are going to start visiting several countries, bringing all of them together, and helping them to set up Christian counseling associations in their countries. This will inspire training, it will encourage standards, and it will also be able to push for universities or theological colleges in their areas to set up Christian counseling departments. When this happens, we shall be looking for AACC to send us people from time to time to return and teach in some of the places. At Oasis, we hope to have a diploma in Christian counseling, teaching the idea at the Institute, and also a Masters program. We need people from the America to come and help us set it up and people in publishing to help us with book old_resources. How large is your staff at Oasis, and precisely how would you characterize your approach to Christian counseling? There are six full-time staff members, including myself, and then four part-time professional counselors. We have 33 professionals on the training staff, because we have got a huge training program. The professionals comprise pastors, medical doctors, psychologists a few of them teach in universities psychiatrists, and university lecturers. All of them are committed Christians which love the Lord and follow our model of Christian counseling. Our approach basically assumes the fallen dynamics of man, the fact that God wants us to be transformed, not just to be spared but to be changed coming from within, and that when Christ comes in, he turns things upside down, and we need to live in obedience to her. I can actually say that around 75% of those who come to us, if they were not Christians first, these become Christians during counseling. Or if they are weak in their Christian walk, they get encouraged prior to when they leave. Our approach is not direct have; its more of an eclectic model. But it is basically some sort of model that helps people get to know the Lord and live in obedience to him by the end of treatments. Phone Therapy is a wonderful medium to help you. What kind of problems do you deal with at Oasis that might be unique to Kenya? There are not any that I need to tell you, because you see, with this global model issue, we are as sick since everyone else! High on the list are marital problems, family issues, youth rebellion, drug abuse, stress, and major depression. Basically the problems are due to the changes taking place in Africa. I am told that by the year 2000, 45% of Africans will be living in the cities. Child abuse is very much on the increase, so there is not whatever is unique there. Kenya is a nation where most people go to school, so we get the same problems that some other money-centered, material-centered society experiences. Most of our tribal structures were pretty solid, but with all the mobility of folks, were encountering all of the community structure crumbling, individualism coming in, and self-worship. When the problems arrive, they take from the core. The difference is that you do not have the tools and old_resources that we have in North America. Just! And that's why the disintegration will be faster, thus we need to work ever so hard. That's why my belief is that church presents the example. I want to work myself out of business very quickly. The more the church does just what the church is supposed to be doing, the better for society. God wants each person to use his or her gifts, plus the gift of encouragement can belong even to a child. So , I must multiply myself, and the sooner We do that before the year 2000, the better.

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cecilspeaks · 5 years

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149 - The General

If you can dream it, you can wake up in a cold sweat screaming about it. Welcome to Night Vale.

Night Vale, today is the birthday of Leonard Burton. Many of you are too young to remember Leonard. He was my mentor, my friend, and my predecessor at this radio station. I watched him die nearly 40 years ago, right outside this very radio station on Mesa Boulevard, when a cargo truck ran him over. The sight was – grisly and upsetting. But it is that sound, that horrible “snap!” I will never forget. Dozens of witnesses gathered around to help, but it was too late. I crouched over Leonard’s body, lying to him that he would be OK, attempting to coax him from some hint of life. But there was no final word to hear, not even a final breath. I noted there were tears on his cheeks, as a host of angels behind me moaned softly while touching fingers above a flaming trashcan.

Leonard was a dutiful journalist, a true servant of his town. He loved Boston cream pies and paintings of snakes. If he had lived, he would have been 117 years young today.

Listeners, thank you for all your kind emails. A few weeks ago I was a tad – too revealing about my personal life and I mentioned, in passing, that I’m a perennial bachelor. It’s true. I’ve never had a long term serious relationship, but honestly, it’s fine. [chuckling nervously] I get out, I-I s-, I see people. You do not need to try to set me up on blind dates with friends, relatives, ancestral ghosts. Thank you, I’m doing OK. In fact, I had a date recently. His name is Carlos. He says he’s a scientist, well – we have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives. He has perfect hair, a perfect lab coat and – and teeth like a military cemetery.

The date started well. We went to dinner at Big Rico’s Pizza. He had originally suggested Gino’s Italian Dining Experience and Bar and Grill, the fanciest restaurant in town, but since it was our first date, I suggested something more casual. And that was when things started to go wrong. Before we had even placed our orders, Carlos already seemed – disappointed. Which, in turn, disappointed me. Then there was dinner. I was trying to tell Carlos about my job here at the station, about my family and interests, and he was like “I know I know, Cecil, we’re in love. You and I are in love. You just don’t remember it.” And I told him, “You’re cute, but this is our first date, so let’s take this slow.” And then he looked sad, and I quickly finished my pizza, and we left.

An update on the Blood Space War. A few weeks ago, the Polonian forces who oppose us seemed all but defeated, their remaining ships cornered in a tiny moon on the far reaches of the Crab Nebula. Yet our attempts to finally destroy the enemy failed, and the Polonians escaped and regrouped. We’re getting word that the General has agreed to step down from her post, and new leadership will replace her. Some of you may remember the story of Eunomia, the teenager who left our Earth 200 years ago to join in the Blood Space War. She was a dreamer, a scientist, who was recruited for her sharp mind and later groomed as a master strategist for the Wolf Gang, our allies in this unending war. The Wolf Gang were able to use worm holes to travel great distances in mere moments. And Eunomia eventually discovered they could use these same portals to travel in time. After a brutal loss in the battle of Gamma Trachonus, Eunomia, then a captain, ordered her decimated platoon back in time to the beginning of the battle. With a greater understanding of their initial failures, she was able to better fight the battle again. Still she lost, only to return back through time to re-engage the enemy over and over again, she refought the battle until she won. Dozens of battles like this won led to her promotion to General of the Earth-Wolf Gang alliance. But after our most recent failure in the Crab Nebula, there is concern that she has lost her effectiveness.

An emissary from the Blood Space War has returned to Night Vale. They are wading through town in their oversized space suit. No doubt here to deliver us more terrible news from the front. Perhaps there will be no peace in our lifetimes. More on this story as it develops.

Our town is returning to normal, or so I have been told. Community college student and Blood Space War protest organizer, Basimah Bishara, said her mother exists once again. Basimah claims that a few weeks ago, her mother suddenly did not exist, thus making Basimah not exist but as of this week, they do exist. Basimah blames the time traveling actions of our General for changing the landscape of everyone’s existence. I can’t wrap my head around this, listeners, I-I.. I don’t remember Basimah ever not existing or, or-or that she was gone and returned. So it’s hard for me to believe this story. I-I took inventory of my own life and everything is as it always has been for me. I work at a radio station, I own a (-) [0:08:20] bike, I have a one-bedroom apartment with a soaking tub, walk-in closet, carpet shredder, knife compiler and a full-length mirror in the hallway. It’s an antique my mother handed down to me. She knows I love mirrors. I don’t have any siblings, but my mother’s alive and I talk to her regularly. We get along great, I-I-I called her to make sure everything is as she always remembered it, and she said, “What, I don’t know. Yeah sure, what a dumb question.” She’s always been witty like that. All is stasis. Nothing has been taken from my life.

The Intergalactic Military Headquarters reported all time high profits this month. They have built a stealth bomber entirely out of rare 1913 Liberty Head nickels, each valued at around - five million dollars. Senior strategic advisor Jameson Archibald admitted their financial success was not attributable to the new smart phone app he developed. “[cackling] No-ho-ho-ho-ho,” Archibald said, sitting astride a white tiger. “That app was super glitchy, but my Dad’s crazy rich and knows a bunch of people in the Pentagon, so we’re go-o-o-od!” Archibald then took a massive hit of a vape pen. “This is my new thing,” Archibald said. “Steam pens! No nicotine, no THC, only pure water vapor. Did you know water is good for you? Like, it gives you life, man. If we’re gonna vape anything, we should be vaping vapor. O-o, what if that’s what vape means? Vapor! If it doesn’t, it should!” This has been your financial report.

Sad news, Night Vale. John Peters – you know, the farmer – reported that his brother James is returning to service in the Blood Space War. James has been promoted to General to replace the retiring Eunomia. “Dang, James is such a good brother,” John said from the middle of his field of invisible corn. “I really like having him home, I’m gonna miss him. But I guess the universe needs him more than I do.” John then uprooted an invisible corn stalk and hugged it tightly, while humming the classic church hymn “Party in the USA”.

OK, this is getting annoying. So the guy I was telling you about earlier, Carlos, he’s been texting me this whole show, saying he wants to see me again, let’s see, something something, my timeline is still wrong? I should have a sister named Abby, here’s a photo of her with some kid. My mother died? Hmph. I’m supposedly afraid of mirrors, and he and I are actually married. This is ridiculous! OK, now he’s texting me a picture of a dog. “Our little puppy Aubergine,” it says. In the picture Carlos is holding the dog. I… Hm, that’s weird. I just had a strange feeling. What’s that term, uh, jamais vu I think, where you remember something that never happened.

Outside my window, I see the Emissary, their-their oblong mirrored face pressed against the glass, each hand raised to their head to block out glare from the sun. I’m waving to the Emissary now. Hello Emissary! I said just now. What is the French term for remembering something you’ve never experienced? I said even louder wondering if the Emissary can hear me through the window and that thick helmet. Also, is Aubergine a good name for a dog? I think it is! I called once more, just to start a decent conversation, because I was getting creeped out by the sight of a silent astronaut peering at me through my window. [chuckles] I can, I can see myself in the reflective face. I… [mumbles] I don’t like this. I do not like this at all. [panicked] Please go. Please leave, it cannot. Uh, I’m covering this window with a sheet, I do not like this mirror. I don’t like it one bit, no!

Let’s go to the weather.

[Weather: “Sad But Not Depressed” from the podcast It Makes a Sound https://nightvale.bandcamp.com]

I will tell you about the Emissary in a moment. But first, I must tell you that Carlos called me. Here’s his voicemail.

Carlos: Cecil, I_I’m calling for personal reasons. I-I’m, [sighs] I’m calling to tell you that I love you. That I have loved you almost since the first day I met you nearly 7 years ago. I didn’t know anyone in Night Vale [chuckles] and you were the first person to take any interest in my studies. Its not easy feeling alone, but within a year I wasn’t, cause I was with you. And now we are married. Well, at least in my lifetime we were married. We have been married, and we have a beautiful puppy named Aubergine, a house, a relationship. You have a sister, and you know, you have a brother-in-law too and, and a niece who is a talented athlete and (enormously), just a kind young woman. And we have – oh, you’re gonna play this on air, aren’t you? Oh, of course you are. Well never mind. Anyway uh, somehow you don’t know any of this. I’ve been working nights and days trying to repair this break in continuity, and I haven’t slept much, because I-I can’t sleep until we’re back in the same timeline. But I can’t find anything that will fix this, I-I don’t know what else to do other than to just say: Trust me. I will start over, we’ll go to Rico’s on another first date, I will pretend to hear about your life for the first time, I will tell you about mine for the thousandth time. It won’t be the same for me, but it will still be you. And, and that’s all that matters. You, you’re the one. Oh god, this must sound crazy, you barely know you and, and I’m coming off as desperate, but it’s because I am. Please call me. [beep]

Cecil: And I did, call him back. A-a-and I said: “I love you too. Babe, I love your beard. I love our dog. I love… I-I love our life together.” Minutes before that, I did not feel that way. I did not know about my life with Carlos, because it had never happened in my history.

It was in those minutes, though, that the Emissary spoke to me. The Emissary entered my studio and removed her helmet. And underneath was the face of an old woman, it was the face of Eunomia, the young girl who disappeared from Night Vale on her 17th birthday 200 years ago. Eunomia told me she had resigned her post as General. She was the most successful leader in the Blood Space War, but tampering with timelines had caused life in the universe to nearly cease to exist. Eunomia knew she would have to undo what she had undone so many times over, even though it would put peace out of her reach. She’s doing that. She is taking responsibility by visiting every single person affected by her actions. She’s telling them what she has taken from them. And what she will now give back. It will take her a long, long time to do this. it will take her the rest of her life.

In my case, she told me I have a sister, Abby, a brother-in-law, Steve, a niece, Janice. I-I did not know those times. She told me about my husband Carlos. I knew that name, but did not feel love for it. She took my hand and told me to look at the moon. There was a thick wedge missing from it. I never noticed that the moon was broken. Eunomia said: “I will leave now and I will undo what has been done, and your life will return to how it was.” I asked: “But I have a life now.” And she said: “But what of the lives of others? You are all connected. If I do not fix yours, how many others will never have back what the war has taken?” “And what about you?” I said. “Will you return to your teenage life on the farm?” “No,” she said, “I cannot go back to that age, but I will go back to that time and place. I only wish to see my family one more time.” “And what about the war?” I said. Hmph. “There will always be a war, because there will always be a lust for a war,” she said. “I am sorry, Cecil. I have to go.” She pointed to the moon once again. And it was whole, unbroken. I tried to squeeze her hand, but it was gone. It was only me in the studio.

On a late summer afternoon in 1816, an astronaut appeared in the center of Night Vale. 96 years later, a dog park would be established on that exact spot. The astronaut walked silently through the dusty streets. Bow-legged and slow, the Emissary walked through the outskirts of town. It took hours, and nearly the entire city followed her. Past a lot that would eventually to Old Woman Josie. Past the homestead of Eugene Leroy. Until she reached the Peters farm. And there, she stopped. There was a greenish aura about the astronaut, as she turned to face the gathered mob. The astronaut put her gloved hands to her neck and unlashed the helmet. There was a loud hissss and a pop, when she lifted the mask. The crowd approached tentatively. As the helmet came fully off, the townsfolk cried out. The face of the visitor was nearly skeletal, a rotted corpse, long white hair peeling down the back of the skull, an incomplete set of elongated teeth visible with no lips to hide them, startled eyes, ever staring with no lids to express anything else. And what was left of the skin had shriveled and yellowed.

The crowd had begun to step backward, but one woman stepped forward. a tired and pale woman. The woman whose farm it was approached the decomposing astronaut and said: “Eunomia?” The General opened her mouth slowly and spoke in a hoarse cough. “Mother,” she said. Eunomia’s young mother touched her elderly daughter’s face. Eunomia broke into dust. And the empty space suit collapsed to the ground, leaving behind the faint shape of the woman’s dissipating daughter.

In a cornfield on the outskirts of town, the General’s ashes scattered across a golden lake of ripened corn. In the very place where her military successor, James Peters – you know, the General – would be born 150 years later.

The memories of what Eunomia said to me, the memories of my life without my family, are fading quickly. Night Vale returns to normal, whatever that means. [chuckles] I told Carlos I was so sorry for causing him such pain. I can not ever know how difficult that must have been. He only tilted his head and said: “Already forgotten.” I wasn’t sure if he was being literal. Hmm.

Stay tuned next for the unceremonious continuation of all that is real.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road, and then we’re gonna go grab drinks and dinner, maybe watch a movie. Girls’ night.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #wtnv transcripts #episode 149 #the general

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franstastic-ideas · 5 years

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The Citizens of Ebott Town

I thought it was about time I elaborated on my AU Wraithtale beyond just Frisk, Chara, Sans, Gaster and Papyrus, even though they'll be featured here as well. I'll be writing a one-shot featuring Wraithtale sometime in the near future, so consider this a preview of sorts along with finally fleshing out this universe.

Since this is about Ebott Town and its citizens, Chara and Frisk will be detailed in another post. Please feel free to ask me anything about Wraithtale if you're interested in the AU!

Ebott Town - It's a dead end town at the base of the mountain. Even though the town itself stretches all around the mountain's base, the population is small; just about everyone knows each other and news spreads fast among the community. There's plenty of houses, of course, a school, a hospital, some stores, a handful of restaurants spread around, and there's even some public transportation like buses, but there's also a whole lot of nature. The mountain is huge. Residents that have been there all their lives still haven't seen everything to see around there, probably because even without the myths of shadow monsters lurking in the dark forests scattered there, the mountain has plenty of other ways to keep people from wanting to climb it.

Steep cliffs, rivers, bears. You know, usual mountain-y stuff.

But about the myths of shadow monsters: for generations, the people who live at the mountain's base have caught glimpses of human-like figures moving between the thick expanse of trees of the mountain's forests. However, on closer inspection, it becomes apparently obvious that these figures are anything but human. Legends say that if you allow one to get too close, the wraith will steal your body and face. Or eat you from the inside out. Legends also say that many centuries ago, a group of fearful humans carved a series of stone totems that harnessed the power of the sun and spread them around the mountain's base to keep the wraiths trapped on the mountain.

These totems are still standing at the story's beginning and become important later in the AU - some time after Frisk and Chara's existence is revealed to Sans and Papyrus, one of the totems is destroyed by a construction crew, allowing Frisk and Chara an opening to get off the mountain and into Ebott Town.

The Citizens of Ebott:

Toriel: She's a teacher at Ebott's school; Ebott technically has more than one school, but it's a series of buildings all located on one property. She's also a volunteer at Ebott's hospital and has had to bandage up Papyrus on many more than one occasion. Asriel is just in his first year of middle school, but Toriel already calls herself an old lady even though many have told her she still looks good for her age. She and Asgore are still married, and happily so; they're that couple that's still lovey dovey after years of marriage and they embarrass Asriel to no end. Many of Ebott Town's citizens want to leave their lives here for something greater, but Toriel is one of the few entirely happy where they are.

Sans and Papyrus lost their mother at a young and tender age, so she became the maternal figure in their life. She's deeply saddened by the current rift between Sans and Gaster, but she tends to side with the former even though Toriel hates for there to be any conflict at all. She believes that Gaster continuously placing pressure on Sans to succeed, while he meant well in doing so, only succeeded in robbing Sans of a bright future and ultimately lost his oldest son as a result.

Sans: Prior to the main story, Sans was a college student aiming for a major in science while simultaneously aiding his father in his experiments. He and Gaster got along for the most part; arguments were sometimes a thing, but they weren't usually serious or extreme. However, one fateful day, this would change; one of Gaster's experiments went haywire. Gaster's creations going haywire wasn't unordinary, but this one involved a dangerous chemical compound. This compound ate right through Sans's lab coat sleeves and burned his arms, permanently scarring them. When Gaster still wanted to continue his research with the compound, Sans began questioning whether his father loved him or his work more. And with this thought along with the increasingly added pressure to succeed, his grades began rapidly slipping, and with that, Gaster grew more upset with him - eventually it culminated in Sans having a nervous breakdown on campus. He was swiftly expelled afterward for his 'tantrum' and sent home, back to Ebott Town and never to return.

He gets into a heated argument with Gaster, which leads to a second nervous breakdown and Sans finally unloading every one of his recent negative thoughts on his father and accuses him of not loving him. Sans wasn't satisfied with Gaster's attempts to explain himself and wanted to move out and take his brother with him, but Papyrus refused to leave. So the three live under one roof, a broken family. Sans began using his time working odd jobs alongside Papyrus and exploring the mountainous region that had been around him all of his life. He deflects any questions asked about why he isn't in college anymore by the residents of Ebott and he always keeps his arms covered, wearing long sleeves even in the summer to hide his burns.

Papyrus: Unlike his brother, Papyrus never got the chance to leave town and go to college. He doesn't let it bother him though and finds plenty of opportunities to learn in his own community - life itself will be his educator!

Papyrus never decided what he wanted to do after graduation. There's so much that he wants to do; he's largely indecisive and he doesn't want to leave Ebott Town to pursue a career, so currently he completes odd jobs alongside his brother around Ebott to get a feel for what career might be best for him. However, he can't stop that little glimmer of hope in his heart of wanting to make it big, but unlike everyone else, he wants to make it big right where he is. Adults have tried to reason with him into giving up on that dream, that it's a lost cause and a waste of his time, but he staunchly refuses this possibility and continues trying his best, certain that everything will eventually work out.

He's currently the glue that's holding the pieces of this shattered family together. If it weren't for him, Sans would have left town the night he came home. Sans won't leave without his brother and Papyrus knows this, so he's got Sans at a stalemate. He knows that if Sans ever left town, then he may never speak to Gaster again and then they may never reconcile. And he also knows that deep down, Sans doesn't want to leave Ebott Town either. But ever since he met Frisk, Papyrus thinks he at least doesn't have to worry about that happening anymore...

Undyne: Undyne wanted to become a police officer after she graduated high school, but instead, she's been relegated to the position of 'mountain patrol'. In other words, Gerson took pity on her and used his own position in the force to give Undyne some involvement in the career path she chose but was denied. The higher ups in the police force rejected Undyne because, no matter how strongly she upholds justice and how passionate she is, they still see her as a problem child and won't give her a chance. Gerson, however, sees Undyne's potential and gives her the task of 'mountain patrol' out of sympathy and because he believes that eventually she'll prove herself worthy to the rest of the police force.

Which is why initially, when she learns of the wraiths' confirmed existence and the police sent out a notice requesting their capture, she wants to apprehend Frisk and Chara and secure her place in the force. It took a lot of convincing from Sans and Papyrus to stand down, and Chara constantly announcing her intentions for the town and the rest of humanity didn't help in the slightest, but eventually they reason with her and Undyne befriends Frisk and later Chara. Even though it costed her promotion, she keeps the two shadow monsters safe from the hands of the law, since now she feels having the two apprehended would be unjust and against her morals. That, and she loves a good star-crossed lovers forbidden romance as much as the next gal.

Alphys: Alphys is currently taking college classes online while also working as Gaster's assistant. After Sans's nervous breakdown, she feels guilty for essentially 'stealing his future', getting a college education when he couldn't, and working alongside Gaster even while knowing how he hurt Sans. Sans doesn't hold anything against her for it, telling her that everything that happened between the two of them was his and Gaster's business. Even so, she sometimes can't help but feel like what she's doing is unfair to him and wrong.

Alphys once dreamed that she, Gaster, and Sans would revitalize the town together, but since the latter two's falling out that dream seems impossible to her. Even so, she loves the town and has no desire to leave, feeling that the rest of the world is too big for her and this is where she belongs. Along with Sans, she was the one in their group who was most often bullied in school; she was mistreated for her chubby body like Sans was, but unlike him, she almost always had Undyne to defend her and her side of the story was usually believed over her tormentor's. She had low self esteem until Gaster saw potential in her and took her as his assistant. He built up her self esteem along with Sans and the rest of her friends, so Sans's descent thereafter makes her feel torn between the two even though both assure her she has no reason to feel that way.

Muffet: Muffet works in her mother's bakery and writes independent gothic literature on the side. Unknown to most of the town, several of her stories have already been published anonymously and she's receiving moderate to substantial success. When she and Sans were still in high school, Gaster had set the two up on a date once. Sans had never expressed any interest in having a romantic relationship, and Gaster thought he needed assistance in acquiring a girlfriend, so he selected Muffet as a romantic candidate for Sans. What followed was an extremely embarrassing night for Sans and an amusing one for Muffet. Despite her still teasing him about it, she agrees that the date didn't count since she believes real dates should be mutually consenting from both parties, and Gaster didn't ask either of them before shoving them into an awkward position. The two did become friends, so Muffet became included among Sans's and Papyrus's circle of friends afterwards.

She's one of the few happy to stay in Ebott Town, if only because of her family's bakery and living so close to the mountain where the shadow people roam. She's been sneaking off to the mountain since she learned to walk to try and get glimpses of the monsters supposedly living there and grows excited over any paranormal activity reported to happen near the town. She thinks Sans's relationship with Frisk and Papyrus's with Chara is 'dreamy' and wants her new story she's writing to be a Lovecraftian romance with them as her inspiration.

Grillby: Grillby graduated high school when Sans was entering the 10th grade. He left Ebott Town to go to culinary school but came back just a year later and settled for working as a waiter and assistant chef in Muffet's family's bakery before opening his own restaurant in town. He isn't particularly upset over having to return but he doesn't like the endless stream of gossip that surrounds a person whenever they leave and eventually come back to Ebott. Grillby has an unbelievable amount of patience, but one of the fastest ways to make it wear thin is to question Sans on his own return in his presence. He's one of the few that knows the entire truth about Sans's situation and is quick to dismiss the busybodies from looking for more gossip fodder.

Sometimes after Sans and Gaster have an argument, Grillby will open up his home to Sans and allow him to stay until he's cooled enough. He makes sure Sans eats properly during those times and lends an understanding ear. When he was younger, he was frequently picked on for his large round glasses he had to wear and his overall nerdy appearance. Now that he's older and considered handsome by most that see him, he feels uncomfortable about accepting compliments related to his appearance.

Mettaton: He dreams of one day leaving Ebott Town and becoming a star. Together with his cousin Blooky, his neighbor Shyren, and a bored fast food employee with nothing better to do who wants to leave this town as much as the next guy, he formed a band. Mettaton performs lead vocals, Blooky is the composer, Shyren is backing vocals, and Burgerpants is their lyricist. The problem is, Burgerpants has trouble becoming inspired and gets writer's block often. So until Burgerpants can come up with something original and groundbreaking, Mettaton and the band are stuck making cover of various songs and uploading them on the internet. Even so, he refuses to give up on the band.

His name isn't actually Mettaton - it's his stage name. He got it from the angel Metatron and thought it was something unique and 'fabulous enough for him', but he misread it. Even after learning of his typo he won't correct it. He loves his stage name so much, he had his name legally changed to Mettaton and only responds to this name - if called his old name, he'll pretend he can't hear you. Since Sans came back to Ebott, Mettaton has tried persistently to get him to join his band, but Sans hasn't become that desperate yet.

Asgore: He runs a gardening and flower store in the town, but he's also the town's mayor. It's fortunate Ebott Town was already named when he entered office, otherwise he may have bestowed the town with an even more uncreative name. He's widely beloved by the citizens of the town to the point that many say he's one of the only bright sides to being stuck there. Like his wife, he loves Ebott Town and while he can't blame or place fault in the ones that want to leave, it does deeply sadden him to hear how much someone wants to leave town or watch someone leave.

Being Gaster's close friend and confidant, he knows about his family troubles. Like Toriel, he doesn't like that there's any conflict between them at all, but he's more sympathetic towards Gaster and his various attempts to reconcile with Sans than his wife is. After an argument has occurred, sometimes it's Asgore that Gaster goes to for comfort and reassurance that he isn't a bad father, and yet at the same time, Gaster will vehemently argue with Asgore whenever he attempts to assuage his fears as a parent.

W.D. Gaster: Gaster was a wealthy man with a loving wife and two sons who lived in a city far away from Ebott Town. After losing his wife, he decided to move to escape the pain. He decides to move to Ebott Town after receiving a letter from his old friend Asgore and continue his work there. He heard Ebott was a dead end town and nearly everyone wants to leave for somewhere greater, but he wanted to make the place more populated through his scientific work and later his oldest son's. He made many successes in bringing Ebott more up to date with the modern world, having solar panels installed on every house along with several other widespread achievements, but no matter how hard he worked, people still wanted to leave.

He's still presently working on improving the town with science alongside Alphys, but since the rift in his relationship with Sans formed, he has lost most of his passion. He's loved science since he was a boy, but he discovers that he loved it more when Sans was having fun with science with him. Only, Gaster is poor with words, and he can't properly express his feelings of emptiness and guilt to Sans. Sans still feels bitter and does everything to avoid and spite him in his hurt, which leads to more tension between the two. He wonders if his relationship with his oldest son is beyond repair now. He wants to make amends, but he doesn't know how or if it's even possible anymore.

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rueitae · 5 years

Text

Once More, With Feeling

For @paliseizy‘s Coran Week! I had this idea lurking in my head for a while, but this event kicked me in gear to finish! Much thanks to @sp4c3-0ddity for her usual encouragement. For the prompts Ship (Coran and an OC, though its not the focus) and AU.

When given the option to try and change the past for Allura's sake, he takes it. It's just a bonus he gets to change Keith's life for the better.

Or, canon compliant Coran time travels and raises Keith in canon divergent AU.

Warning for Major Character Death (of old age, and at the beginning).

Read on Ao3. Roughly 10,600 words.

~~~~~

Coran pauses, arm outstretched to open the door before him.

It hasn’t gotten any easier, his greying hairs an outward expression of his aged body and mind. Although he’s spent the trip from Altea mentally preparing himself for this, it hasn’t helped. Even though everyone has greeted him kindly upon arrival he’s terrified to open the door, not because of who he’ll see - never who - but what.

The grip on the flowers tighten. He must. He’s paid the same to the others, his children by choice, and he’ll be quiznaked if doesn’t give Keith the same comfort.

Taking courage from their memory, he turns the knob, hands sweaty under his gloves.

The hospital room is more cheerful than he remembers them being, painted in a beautiful light orange. Vases full of floral arrangements both Earthly and alien crowd the tables and chairs. Coran’s heart twinges. There’s been no visitors lately, only mailed in well wishes.

A nurse with familiar auburn hair leans over the single bed, and upon his entry rises to greet him with a smile. “Good evening, Uncle Coran. Welcome back to the Garrison.”

Coran nods politely, a smile pushing up on his face. “A pleasure to see you again, Samantha. How are classes going?”

She beams at him. “Aced my last set of tests. I’ll be a doctor before you know it.”

Coran whistles. That soon? Just yesterday it seemed she’d graduated from secondary school. “She’d be proud of you, all of you kids,” he tells her.

Her face glows with the praise, a light flush around her cheeks. Quiznak, she’s the spitting image of her great-great-grandmother.

He misses Pidge so much. And Hunk and Shiro and Lance.

And Allura still.

Her gaze wanders briefly to the bed. “He’s just napping, but you can stay with him until he wakes. He’ll be delighted to see you.”

“Thank you, my dear,” he says, taking her hands in his and giving them a gentle pat. “Give your parents a fond hello for me.”

She gives him a kiss on the cheek and his mustache tingles with joy. He gives her familial hug before she leaves the room.

With great care he sets the flowers aside to sit on the chair at the bed.

Coran’s heart is at ease as he watches Keith sleep peacefully. The man has outlived his fellow Paladins thanks to his Galra heritage, but his white hair, thin arms, and wrinkles are all so human. Time has helped, but it’s still hard on his heart to see the young man he met and nurtured, so full of life, bound to bed at the end of it.

To be the last has been a burden on him, one that Coran must soon carry.

Keith’s eyes lift slowly, but smiles. “Hey Coran,” he says softly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Coran pats his arm, careful of the IV keeping him hydrated. “I came as soon as I could, my boy. How are you feeling?”

Keith cracks a wry smile. “Been better,” he quips. “How’s Altea?”

“Getting along just fine without me,” Coran jokes back. He hasn’t done much governance lately, a task for the younger generation now.

Keith nods slowly, his eyes focusing on a point on the far wall. “I’m tired, Coran. I thought I’d go out fighting.” He chuckles, smile fond. “I still hear Shiro’s voice telling me to be patient.”

“I think of them too,” Coran tells him. He files them in the same category as Alfor and the original Paladins now, to be remembered for the vitality and joy brought to his life and the lives of all who knew them. “Allura could have used that advice back in the day, she was quite vivacious as a child. I can’t count the times I had to lure her to the duflax pond or juniberry fields while Alfor worked - she wanted so much to help him.”

Keith laughs, an easy one that was so hard to come by when they first met. “She did that and more,” he says sincerely.

Quiznak, he can’t cry yet. “She did,” he agrees as his eyes scrunch shut, holding back the tears.

A hand rests lightly on his. The simple action leaves Keith near breathless, his chest rising and falling heavily. “I want you to do it,” he rasps.

Coran can’t stop the light gasp that escapes his lips. He knows exactly what Keith speaks of, but, “It’s a fantastic dream, Keith. We barely had a chance with all of us, I can’t finish on my own.”

“Lance finished it,” Keith says quickly.

Coran’s eyes threaten to bulge out of their sockets. Lance had been no idiot, but to finish what they’d been working on…

“He learned a lot more from Hunk and Pidge than he let on,” Keith continues. “He applied some old movie logic and it worked, Coran. We used it on a toy. It was the last thing he did before he...”

Died.

Coran remembers the funeral well; family and friends around the open casket while the universe outside mourned. His gifted Altean markings glow too brightly for the naked eye and when they look back, his body is gone.

There’s no wondering where he’s gone. His name is carved at the base of the statue of Allura on Altea, underneath Pidge’s and Hunk’s and Shiro’s - where Keith’s will join them one day.

Coran’s heat thumps with hope. What was once throwaway gibberish from Slav turned into Pidge’s offhanded theorizing and Hunk’s idle tinkering. A chance grew - not just to correct mistakes but to give her a chance, a chance to enjoy the fruits of her labor.

“Time travel is a dangerous beast, Keith. Can is one thing… but should we do it?”

Keith exhales and relaxes into his pillow. He closes his eyes for a long moment. When they open, Coran can tell he’s decided.

“If there’s a chance, we should take it. Please, Coran. Do it for her. Let her live a full life with us. Make sure everyone gets a happy ending.”

Keith coughs, his body lurching forward, the machine monitoring his heart rate going wild at the sudden movement. Coran steadies him, holds him close until he’s finished.

“Do you have everything in order?” Coran asks as he helps Keith back to his resting position.

Keith catches his breath before responding. “Yorak has the blade, you have the key to the lab. I don’t have anything else to take care of.”

Coran nods and takes the man’s hand, squeezing it tight as the intervals between beeps on the monitor become longer.

Keith squeezes back, tears in his eyes. “Thank you for being here. I miss… I miss the team… I miss Mom… and I miss Dad…”

“You’ll be with them soon,” Coran chokes. His own tears filter his vision. Another dozen deca-feebs or so and Coran can start to contemplate when he’ll join them. “I know they’d be so pleased with everything you’ve done in their stead.”

Keith closes his eyes and smiles. “Dad…”

The monitor flatlines, a term Coran has come to despise. He cries, arms trembling as he holds Keith’s hand tight. “Rest easy, Keith.”

Samantha and others come in, but Coran does not move a muscle as they remove the equipment and pay their own respects.

It’s truly the end of an era

~~~~~~

Keith didn’t want pomp and circumstance. Surviving relatives of the Paladins visit while television stations run biopics on all the former Paladins day and night, back to back.

When they close the casket for the last time, Coran doesn’t miss a bright white glow from between the cracks. Coran relaxes. Keith is in good hands now.

After the funeral, Coran finds the strength to enter the lab. It’s mostly unused since Pidge passed on, but one corner clearly has seen more traffic than others.

Coran takes the cut of Balmeran crystal from his pocket, a gift from Shiro.

She’d want you to have it. Don’t mourn me forever, I’ve made the most of my borrowed time.

A platform unfurls, the design lovingly based off of the IGF-Atlas. He places the crystal on the place made specifically for it.

The machine hums to life and Coran takes a moment to glide his hand along the surface of the pod. It looks so much like Castle’s ships and it triggers his nostalgia for Pop-Pop and the days where he traveled with Alfor across the galaxy, and then the universe with Allura.

There’s only room for one, and the trip is one-way.

The young ones of the generation remember Voltron only in the stories of their grandparents, or parents for longer lived species. Alteans do not live as long as they used to.

The universe no longer has a place for him.

It’s time to do something good.

Coran enters the date they’d calculated so long ago, the point where he can enter their lives early without shorting out the machine. He settles himself into the chair and closes the chamber.

It will be too late for Altea and much of the universe.

But enough time to make things right for the Paladins - for Allura.

~~~~~~

The machine does as it’s supposed to. The lab fades away and leaves Coran with a view of the desert outside of Plaht City, the sun setting on what has been a very somber day.

Sparks fly within the machine and Coran jumps out moments before it explodes, engine fried from the trip - as theorized.

Coran gets up and dusts himself off. He can’t introduce himself without looking his very best after all!

Carefully he removes the now blackened Balmeran crystal from its place. It falls to dust in his hands.

Despite knowing this exact thing was going to happen, Coran falls to his knees on the desert sand and mourns. Its an object, he knows, even though it was a gift of the Balmera, but it's his last link to the past.

So eventually, when he’s given himself time, he takes a small vial from his coat pocket and reverently deposits the black dust into it. If Coran wishes to see it in its pristine form, he must see it on Allura’s circlet.

A timeline where she lives. He has his mission. For the universe, for the team, for Alfor.

Somewhere out there the Blue Lion waits patiently for Lance, a meeting that will not take place for another several years. Coran’s destination is the two story house that looms in the near distance.

A woman answers the door - and his breath is taken away. The long lonely week feels far away as he takes in the most beautiful curly red hair he’s ever seen - even his own! He gapes, barely taking in her frazzled and tired eyes. She looks at him as if he’s Voltron itself.

“Oh thank heavens you’re here,” she breathes. Her lips too are a pleasant shade of red akin to the second sunset of Altean equinox-- “Mr… ?”

“Smythe,” Coran says blankly before shaking his head, breaking himself out of a stupor to shake her hand. “Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe at your service.” He chuckles nervously, flicking his round ear. Humans were so strange. “What seems to be the hullabaloo?”

“The boy won’t talk. He keeps himself locked up in his room. He has a knife! Who gives a knife to an eight-year-old?” The woman breathes heavily, near panic. “I was just about to call the police.”

Coran takes her hand in his, gently as if they were delicate juniberry petals. “Fret no more, my lady. I’ll take care of everything,” he says with a wink.

And he means it. At the risk of changing too much of the future, Coran has decided on one variable.

The woman blushes and Coran’s pride swells. He’s still got it. And Lance called himself the smooth one.

(Number Three never did get to Coran’s level of ‘game’, though he tried his best to mentor the Paladin.)

She leaves in relief after making him sign some paperwork. He has half a mind to ask her to stay… but he has a job to do. Coran climbs the stairs and leans up against the only closed door. There’s sobbing on the other side.

“It’s a bit late for a growing boy to be up, hm?” He airs.

“Go away! Leave me alone!”

Coran smiles at hearing the young, but familiar voice again. Inside his heart breaks at how angry, upset, and alone he sounds.

“I don’t have the slipperies at the moment, so I’m afraid I’m staying put, my boy. Are you hungry?”

Tiny feet scamper further from the door. “No!” Keith says, inflection full of anger and tears.

It’s been a very long time since Coran has dealt with a stubborn Keith and even longer since he’s cared for children. Allura always reacted well to a distraction though, once Coran found a suitable topic for rambling. He’ll just have to do the same for Keith.

“I hear you have a very special knife,” he begins. “I’d very much like to see it if you’d let me.”

An almost feral growl permeates through the drywall. Humans wouldn’t recognize it as anything more than primal, but it is most definitely a Galra cry for assistance. He’s heard Zarkon’s more times than he can count - mostly due to Alfor’s reckless tendencies. Coran can barely make out the dialect, but it’s definitely the cry the Blade of Marmora has settled into over the years.

Though he doesn’t know it, Keith remembers Krolia’s voice.

“So you can try and take it away from me too?” Keith spits.

“Not at all,” Coran assures him. “I’m a bit of a connoisseur of weaponry, actually. I could show you a thing or two about your knife. Anyone so protective over their blade is deserving of some tricks of the trade, wouldn’t you say?”

Keith doesn’t speak right away - he doesn’t need to. He steps lightly to the door, and opens it ever so slightly. His violet-tinted eyes watch Coran with caution.

“Are you telling the truth?” the boy asks with, for the first time, hope.

Coran doesn’t plan to disappoint. He kneels and meets his gaze.

“I was knife-throwing champion of the Castle for twelve deca-feebs straight!” he declares proudly. “You’d be hard pressed to find anyone on this planet who knows more than I.

Keith’s brows furrow in confusion and Coran can practically see the wheels turning in his mind, none of them hostile. Perhaps he’s given the boy a little more to unpack than necessary.

“What’s a... deca-feeb?” Keith finally asks.

“A measurement of time for students of the Blade!” Coran winks, leaning in as if making a fine deal in the Unilu black market. “I’ll be able to teach you all that and more. Mind if I come in?”

Keith stares for a long moment before unhooking a chain and opening the door wide enough for Coran to enter. It’s his bedroom. Pictures of Earth-ships hang on the walls and toys lay scattered across the floor. Keith scrambles onto his bed, holding Krolia’s blade close - the business end blessedly wrapped up. A picture of him and his father lies on the disheveled sheets next to him.

Coran’s heart breaks, and is reminded of his mission.

“Thank you, my boy. Mind if I have a seat?”

Keith shakes his head, but doesn’t move.

Coran sits at the edge of the bed, a respectable distance away. “May I see it?”

Keith holds it out to show him, slowly, with an edge about him that still doesn’t quite trust. Coran makes no move to take the blade, and gives it a look over. It’s remarkably well preserved. Krolia must have given Keith’s father the correct care instructions for luxite.

He hums for a good while, though he already knows what to say. “It’s a fine piece of work, perhaps the best craftsmanship I’ve ever seen!” he declares. “It must have belonged to someone very special.”

Keith hardly seems to know what to do with the blade still in his hands. He examines it thoughtfully with the new information. “My Mom. Dad said that I have to take care of it until I can give it back to her.”

“Your mother was an excellent swordswoman then. It’s a rare gift, she must have loved you very much to entrust you with her prized blade.”

Keith holds it close to his chest and looks Coran in the eye. “Is she coming back? I want to go where she is.”

Coran dares to rest a comforting hand on Keith’s back. “Your mother is in a very dangerous place right now, Keith. She wants very much to see you, but you’d be in great danger if she did.”

His eyes widen, but to Coran’s relief he does not flinch away. He’s gaining trust.

“She’s in trouble?”

“Not right this tick, no,” Coran assures him. “But there are very bad people who would hurt her if they knew where you were.”

“Oh,” Keith says, lowering his head, crestfallen. He sniffs. “I want my dad…”

“I’m sorry about your father,” he begins somberly. “He was a good man. He’ll be remembered fondly.”

The boy’s body shakes, eyes clenched shut. “I don’t want to remember him, I want him here.”

Coran tries not to feel guilt. If only he’d had the power to add just one day to his trip Keith could have grown up with his father. Happy, healthy, and prepared.

Coran can prepare him, keep him healthy, and do his very best to make him happy. Most importantly, he can assure Keith that his mother is out there, and that she loves him.

“I know, Keith,” he says softly. “Everything is going to be fine. I promise.”

Maybe it’s because he says it with conviction, like Keith himself in his best of times leading Voltron or the Blade of Marmora, or just the blind trust of a child with whom he’s started a connection with - a re-connection, but the young boy beside him curls into his side and cries.

Coran wraps his arms around him protectively, stroking his back in comfort, and lets Keith mourn.

This time will be better. For Keith and for Allura.

~~~~~

“Who needs pee-butter and jeyl-lo when you can have…” Coran whisks out a napkin, tying it around Keith’s neck. “A classic Paladin lunch!”

Coran sets the loaded plate on the table with flourish, directly in front of a wary Keith. After finally admitting to being hungry, Keith allowed Coran to lead him to the kitchen and cook for him.

After decades of exposure to Hunk’s cooking, Coran is familiar enough with Earth cuisine - but none of it is as decadent as Altean. Keith’s cupboards turn out to be painfully bare of anything he’s used to, but after a taste test or five Coran is able to scrounge together most of the ingredients for the classic Paladin lunch.

Keith's nose scrunches in distaste. "Is it... safe?" he asks.

Coran huffs. It's a good thing he's introducing Keith to his cooking early. "Of course it's safe," he insists. He's using all human food, how could it not be safe? "If it was good enough for King Alfor, it's good enough for young Paladins."

The boy gives him a funny look, confusion etched into his features. He wants to ask who King Alfor is - wants to ask what a Paladin is - it's an expression Coran is all too used to seeing from older Keith during meetings and explanations of long extinct civilizations and their politics. But he doesn't, instead choosing to interest himself in the Paladin lunch.

His small stomach rumbles and Keith gulps in apprehension as he collects as spoonful and inserts it into his mouth.

Green Paladin Keith is not, and Coran is fairly certain humans can't turn green either - not like he can.

Keith swallows thickly, and with tears in his eyes practically inhales his glass of water.

Coran waits with bated breath. "Well, what do you think?"

"It tastes like dirty socks," Keith says, sticking out his tongue.

Relief fills him, and he sighs, resting a hand over his heart. "Good. That's an improvement over the sewage canals of Thravia-4." Or, that's how Lance had described it once. He gives Keith a reassuring smile and a pat on the back. "It gets a bit better once you get to the middle bits!"

"...I don't think I'm hungry anymore," Keith says simply, pushing the platter towards the middle of the table.

Coran sighs. He had years still to get Keith on his side. "It's been a long day, my boy. I think you could use a bath and a good sleep."

This lowers his spirits, eyes downcast. "...I miss Dad," Keith says suddenly, a hiccup in his voice. "He gave me a bath and I had sand in my hair and - and - "

Keith tries to hold back his tears. Coran swiftly drags a chair with one hand over and sits on it next to Keith. He gently places a hand on his back.

"Tears are nothing to be afraid of, Keith," he says. "It is how we show love and grief. You will never stop loving your father, missing him is nothing to be ashamed of."

His stomach takes the brunt of the hit from Keith's tiny head, the boy's arms just able to reach around his waist in a hug. Coran wraps his arms around him, anchoring the boy's trembling, sobbing figure.

"It will always hurt," Coran continues, "losing loved ones."

Melenor. Alfor. Gyrgan. Trigel. Blaytz.

"No matter how long or short your time is with them."

Allura.

"But we are the keepers of their memories, the lives we shared with them are stories we can pass on to others."

Hunk. Pidge. Shiro. Lance.

"So they will always be with us."

Keith.

"Miss him and mourn his loss. I'll be here as long as you need me."

"I don’t want to, I want him here," Keith chokes out.

Coran holds him closer. The Keith he knew never received this kind of attention. Coran is determined to make sure he does now.

“You can want all you’d like, Keith, but we still must live our lives. Stay here as long as you like," he reassures. "Then that bath and bed, hm? I think that’s what your father would want."

Keith sniffs, his voice muffled in Coran's shirt, but no less hopeful. "...Then t-tomorrow you'll teach me how to use my knife, right?"

Coran can do one better than that. He can give Keith a history lesson he normally wouldn't learn for another fifteen deca-feebs and he can do it tonight. A lesson about the Blades and of the Galra and of what to expect - things that his mother really should have taught him, but knowledge that will be crucial for his early years in space

"That and more, Keith." He hopes Krolia won't be too angry with him when they meet again.

~~~~~

"You're a brave, kind man Mr. Smythe," the judge says. "We're glad to have you at the agency."

Coran tips his new hat to her and pats Keith's mop of hair. The boy clings to his pants as if he expects to be separated at any tick. He is doubly thankful for the foresight to bring his papers back to the past; without the knowledge of other beings, humans will see exactly what they need to see on his files. In this case, the fact that he's already working with the foster care unit.

And that's enough now that he can adopt Keith. He'll be able to relax for the next ten Earth-years.

"I'm just doing what I can. Need to settle down after that last assignment, and Keith here seems in need of a helping hand."

She shakes his hand. "The paperwork should be nearly done..."

The courtroom doors burst open and - Coran’s jaw drops, his heart pounds in his ears. Gorgeous red hair, nearly orange in the halogen lights. Coran holds a hand over his chest as if it will slow his racing heart - he can’t believe she’s here again, the same woman he met at Keith's house the day he arrived in the past. She holds a bundle of papers in her hands. "Sorry I'm late - it took forever to find Keith's birth records. They were at the Galaxy Garrison hospital."

Keith clutches him tighter.

Coran laughs it off. Of course Krolia wouldn't have gone to the Plaht City hospital.

"I'm not terribly surprised, eh Keith," he nudges the boy. "After all the house is much closer by hover bike to the Garrison than the city. A stroke of genius of you to look there in the first place," he tells her with a wink.

Her cheeks flush at the praise and hands the papers over to the judge before tucking a curl of brilliant red hair behind her ear. "Of course, I'm glad to help Mr. Smythe. You've been a great help with Keith."

"Call me Coran," he winks. "We're hardly strangers."

"Synthia!" she proclaims as she shakes his hand. "A pleasure to actually meet you properly, Coran. If you need anything at work, here's my personal number." She smiles brightly at him, a love struck look in her eyes that pulls on his heartstrings.

He takes the card and twirls his mustache. "Perhaps I'll give you a ring and we can discuss work over a cup of tea? What do you think, Keith?"

Keith sticks his tongue out. "I don't like tea."

Coran pats him on the back. Keith never did acquire the taste. "That's quite all right, you won't have to join us if you don't want to." He turns back to Synthia. "Perhaps during the school day sometime?"

"I would be delighted," she beams.

A smug feeling wells up in his chest. He's absolutely still got it.

Perhaps he'll enjoy himself in the past more than he thought.

~~~~~

“Make sure you pack a jacket!” Synthia says as she shoves one into his chest. “The desert gets cold at night - surely you learned what while you were stationed in Australia?”

Coran sniffs the jacket with a raised eyebrow. A recent purchase from a local ‘thrifty shop’, it smells of smoke - and not that of a campfire. He attempts to hand it back, but her emerald eyes sparkle with concern.

With a heavy sigh he puts it on, if only to ease her fears. It takes only a tick to shift his internal organs into a Yorlanian - a people who adapted long ago to naturally deal with temperature gradients far more severe than that of Earth.

How is she to know that? He’s Coran the human here, and he won’t be Coran the Altean for another fifteen years.

A deep breath soothes the ache in his chest at that thought. Fifteen years is nothing compared to ten thousand asleep in a cryopod.

“As you wish, my lady,” he bows, earning a delighted blush from his target - enough to hopefully take her mind off his long pause. “Although, it could certainly use a wash…”

“There’s a washing basin at the park you can use.”

Coran whips around, and there’s Keith at the bottom of the stairs, having descended so silently he hadn’t even heard. He’s dressed for the trip, hiking boots and a red jacket over a worn t-shirt. A backpack sits firmly on his shoulders, his knuckles white as he holds the straps.

He's better; not that he ever will be completely fine, nor should he. Krolia often said she saw much of his father in Keith - brave, selfless, kind, helpful, so Coran knows he hurts.

Hopefully this trip will be healing for him.

"Ah, well fortune is with us then!" Coran says cheerfully. He turns to Synthia. "Perhaps you and I could take a trip into the wilderness sometime."

Synthia clasps her fingers over her mouth, a delighted giggle escapes her. "That would be wonderful. I haven't spent a night under the stars since I was a scout camping with my troop." She sighs longingly. "I miss the fresh air."

Keith raises an eyebrow. "You were in the scouts?"

She huffs, hands on her hips. "Of course I was! Granted it was when dinosaurs roamed the Earth," she says with a wink and a laugh.

This gets a crack of a smile from Keith. "You're not that old."

"Old enough to remember Plaht City before the Galaxy Garrison!" She pinches his cheek, and while Keith tries to pull away, he's grinning the whole time. "You boys have your bonding. Come back with some woodwork - Coran says he's been teaching you how to use that knife of yours properly?"

Amazing how a simple blanket phrase 'teaching Keith to use the blade' could mean both woodworking and how to dismantle a Galra sentry in the same breath. Coran chuckles nervously, faking a wide smile. At least it meant Synthia and Keith got along.

"Come on, Coran," Keith says, grabbing his hand. "The park closes at dusk and we have to get the tent set up before then!"

Coran allows himself to be dragged along by a pint sized Number Four (or was he Number Five right now? He needs to see how the other Paladins are faring without interfering)

"I await our next meeting with bated breath!" he calls out as he hobbles out the door.

Synthia waves. "The house will be in good hands while you're gone! Bring back some good pictures of animals or--" her eyes dart around, looking around for anyone else who might be listening "-- aliens. You know what they say about the desert at night."

Coran doesn't have the heart nor the time to tell her.

~~~~~

Coran has the jacket packed away, far from their campsite.

It's just him and a small Keith, no one else for miles. Their fire dwindles, creating a faint glow against their two person tent. The two of them lay on the gravelly ground, comforted only by their sleeping bags, and stare at the stars.

The constellations are different here, but it's nice to see consistent shapes in the stars rather than constantly changing ones as they're on the run from Zarkon.

Another time.

"That one is Andromeda," Keith says, his arm and finger pointed up at the sky. "But I always look for Orion when Dad and I came out here."

...Shiro told him this one, but he can't remember for the life of him. "Ah," he starts, a bead of sweat running down his temple in embarrassment. "And why would that be?" he asks, saving the embarrassment of not knowing Earth constellations.

"He's got a sword. It's cool." His face droops, eyes on his feet. "And, I think about Mom." Dark eyes meet his, and when Keith speaks of his mother and the stars they glow with a beautiful purple - the only clue anyone will ever have that Keith is not entirely of Earth.

"Do you think that's where she is?" he asks earnestly. "On Orion?"

Coran hums as he thinks about where Ranveig's base is located in respect to Earth. "Actually, I think she might be closer to that Big Dipper." That one he remembers. Earth would name their stars after a ladle.

Keith grins. "Then I'll be able to find her one day if I follow the North Star?"

"I'm positive you'll find her one day, Keith. I know she wants nothing more than to be with you again."

The change in mood is complete. Keith's eyes shine with hope and belonging; he holds his blade close, the hilt wrapped in cloth to hide the Blade of Marmora symbol. "I can't wait."

But he'll have to wait many years before that happens and go through many dangers. In the meantime, Coran’s job is to prepare him for them. "Tomorrow we'll start getting you ready. Synthia is right, you'll have to learn to use that properly."

Keith rolls onto his side, facing Coran. "Are you always going to make kissy faces with her?"

Coran gapes. "Kis-kissy faces?" he repeats indignantly. "We have a far more sophisticated relationship than that!"

A tiny nose scrunches in disbelief. "You act like it. She's not mom though, and you're not dad; you promised."

"Indeed! Coran will suffice, or Coran the Gorgeous Man if you're so inclined. I'm sure Synthia would be quite happy if you just called her by her name."

For as long as she was in his life anyway. Did he have time for a relationship when his entire reason for being here was to give Keith a better childhood? He wraps his hands around the vial filled with the remains of Allura’s balmeran crystal - he’s attached it to a string, a necklace to make sure its with him at all times.

Allura - and Alfor for that matter - would have told him to enjoy himself.

Keith smiles and closes his eyes. "Thanks for taking me here, Coran. It feels like Dad is still here."

Perhaps he's already done most of the work. Now comes the fun part.

"Get a good night's sleep, Keith," he says, relaxing his hands behind his head. "Tomorrow I'll teach you everything about blades, the Paladin code, and how to extract scaltrite from a weblum."

"... a... a weblam?"

"We'll work on it."

~~~~~

"Coran, check this out!"

Keith rams through the door like a rampaging klanmuirel, holding his Marmora blade up high for all to see. He doesn't bother putting his backpack down, or even taking off his shoes - that'll be even more to clean later! Oh how Coran misses the Castle's automated cleaning systems. Two Earth-years has been nearly undoable. How is he to survive another eight?

Before Coran can say anything, Keith flips the knife up in the air and, in one heart-stopping moment, is about to catch it with the unwrapped blade in his hands.

"Keith!" Coran leaps forward, digging deep in his old age to catch the blade before Keith cuts up his hand. He takes advantage of his Altean gifts and stretches his arms to grab it by the hilt, flipping onto his back as he lands on the floor the opposite side of Keith.

The boy himself has a loose jaw. "Woah," Keith says. "How did you do that?" He seems to blink away his wonder, driving into anger. "Why did you do that? I totally have that trick down!"

Coran stands and hands Keith back his blade hilt first. "You'd have ended up with a nasty cut otherwise," he scolds. Yet at the same time, he feels some pride in Keith showing him his progress. "You’re under rotating."

Keith frowns. "Oh." He fidgets. "Thanks, Coran. You're the only adult who understands."

"Oh, I can't be the only one," Coran says - though he knows Keith tells the truth in more ways than one. "What about Ms. Norris? She's a brilliant lady."

“She’s my teacher,” Keith replies glumly, averting his eyes in distaste. “Last time she found out I had a knife she called the police, remember?”

Coran winces. “Er, yes, that is true. Perhaps you should stop taking it to school. It’s very safe to leave here at home.”

“I can’t!” Keith protests. “What if Mom comes back and she needs this? Or the bad guys find this place and I need to keep it hidden? I can’t risk it!”

The determination is admirable, and on any other reasonable planet that’s made contact there would be no problem with allowing Keith to keep a family heirloom - no matter how sharp - on his person even as a child. But this is Earth, who still believe the creatures who live on Mars are green or grey with large black eyes.

(They’re actually closer kin with Pidge’s trash nebula friends.

“Keith, listen,” Coran says as he kneels and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I swear by Grogory’s beard your blade will be safe with me while you’re at school.”

Keith’s lips curl in, showing his upset face. “But Mom--”

“Wants you to be safe. You aren’t if you get in trouble with school. Promise you’ll keep it at home until the time is right?” Because Keith will need it one day.

Gaze dropping to the ground, Keith sighs. “Okay,” he relents.

Coran isn’t quite ready to believe him. “Promise with your pinky,” he insists.

Keith rolls his eyes. With pride, Coran watches as he creates the Altean royal symbol in the air with his smallest finger; the most serious of oaths.

“Thank you, Keith. That was very big of you. I’m sure you’ll have far less problems now at school.”

~~~~~

The silence in the car is deafening.

Treading down the dirt road, the hum of the (woefully inefficient) engine and tires kicking up gravel seems all the sound in the universe. It’s remarkably similar to the coming of age parties back on Novenia --

Keith huffs loudly from the passenger seat, looking sourly out the window and arms crossed for extra measure. Though his posture is closed off, the huff is Keith speak for ‘I want to talk’.

They have much to speak of.

Coran stretches his fingers and taps them over the steering wheel, looking for the right words. He tentatively gives Keith a side eye and winces even as he speaks with a nervous laughter, “I know you’re wanting to enroll at the Galaxy Garrison soon, but I thought you were interested in space ships, not cars.”

“He stole a Galaxy Garrison vehicle from an officer!”

This is a teaching moment, another chance to cement in Keith that there are people on his side and that love him - but they must talk about it. There’s a silver lining to this incident, one that aches his heart.

“It’s no trouble, Mr. Smythe. I think all Keith needs is a second chance. I’ll chat with him. Bring him by the Garrison tomorrow and ask for ‘Shiro’.”

He hadn’t been able to keep himself from crying as he spoke with Shiro (on the phone, not a video call) - seeing the young man (ever so briefly when picking up Keith, and making sure he wasn’t seen) before Galra captivity changed him. He’s the same, still kind and brave.

Coran can’t find the will to caution him about Kerberos. He’s not supposed to know, and what’s more Coran knows what the mission means to him personally - a dream, a way to prove everyone wrong about his capability.

But it only makes inaction hurt more.

If history is doomed to repeat itself, Coran only hopes it changes in the way that matters in the end. For Allura. For Keith to have comfort through the worst years of his life.

“...Ms. Burnt said I was a liar. She said I wouldn’t do well at the Garrison,” Keith admits softly. His clenched fists tell of the anger hidden just under his skin.

Coran knows why Keith’s teachers say as much. It sends a wave of guilt up his chest; perhaps he’s not been a father figure to the best of his ability; too many stories of space and what he’ll see out there. Keith still found the same schoolyard fights as in the original timeline.

“I have a hard time believing that,” Coran says with a bright chuckle. “You’re a very intelligent young man.”

Keith scowls. “It’s not my grades. The other kids… they don’t believe Mom is fighting bad guys, and that’s why she can’t come home and... ”

Ah here it comes. The other kids pick on him for not having his parents around, his mother having left. Though he’s told Keith a liquefied version of why Krolia can’t be here, it hasn’t made Keith miss her less, or given the other children or even adults reason to believe him.

His eyes flicker in Coran’s direction for hardly a tick, laced with sympathy. “They don’t understand you.”

Coran’s eyes widen and turns to Keith in disbelief. “What the quiznak?”

A car horn honks and Coran barely swerves the car out of the way of an oncoming vehicle. They roll off the side and into the desert, stopping just shy of a very worried looking cactus.

Keith’s classmates are making fun of him?

“Um,” Keith begins warily, his hands clenched around his seat belt, “sorry?”

Well, at least he doesn’t look like a - what was that expression that looked like the bi-boh-bi? Ah yes; a ‘wet noodle’.

But still, why him? He can’t stop Keith from regaling his classmates about his mother’s adventures fighting Zarkon - from what he remembers of them anyway. Keith has been in trouble with that before.

“Well, no offense Coran, but you’re a little… weird,” Keith confesses.

His heart stops; the world turns to dust around him. Coran feels as if he’s transported out of the car to a world of pitch black, a single spotlight on his heartbroken form.

“I’m… I’m not cool?” he manages to gasp. He’s only ever done everything awesome and hip - keeping up with all the trends!

Keith’s eyes light up with worry, shifting in his seat to face him. “I think you’re the best!” he says. “The kids don’t know what they’re talking about! Weblums are real - and so are aliens - they can’t prove otherwise! Mom’s trying to keep them away from here, right? So of course we don’t know about them!”

This isn’t the first time Coran just wants to tell Keith everything - that he’s from the future and in less than four years he’ll meet a different version of himself and he’s half alien and there’s a war out there and he’s going to be a Paladin of Voltron and please do everything in your power to save Allura.

But he’s changed enough by telling Keith stories of weblums and Altean fairytales, by just knowing his face. He’ll have to apologize to his younger self if it comes to that - there are sure to be fireworks when they meet and Sendak will still be on their tail.

Still, Keith’s enthusiasm warms his heart. For now, keep things on track. Shiro will help him get through the Galaxy Garrison just like before. This time though, Coran hopes he’ll make a few friends.

A few specific friends, that is.

~~~~~~~~

“There,” Coran says. He kneels before Keith, putting a finishing polish on Keith’s Galaxy Garrison lapel. “You look smart and dashing.”

The uniform looks good on him, even though he’s not yet grown into it. Coran imagines it in red, like he’s used to seeing on Keith.

It feels like the beginning of the end.

Keith shifts uncomfortably. “Coran, I’m not sure if I want to go back.”

“What? Quiznak, Keith, whatever for? This is all you’ve been talking about since you were yeh-high!” Coran exclaims, holding his hand above the floor barely to Keith’s knees.

At least he gets a laugh out of Keith. “I was not that little,” he protests lightly.

“Well you sure seemed that way to me,” Coran huffs before knitting his eyebrows together in concern. “Why the change of heart?”

Keith sighs, looking away and down. “The other kids are just like in school… some of them are even from my class. James has them all turned on me.”

Coran’s shoulder slump. That had only been orientation!

“I know it’s difficult, Keith, but I’m sure there are some kids who would be glad to be your friend. What about Shiro’s friend, Matt?” he waggles his eyebrows. “Doesn’t he have a younger sister?”

Keith’s eyes go wide. “Katie?” His face scrunches in disgust. “No - I - I don’t want to date anyone!”

Coran knows he shouldn’t laugh, but he does. “I never said anything of the sort. She’s closer to your age though. Perhaps she’d like to be your friend.”

Keith clearly isn’t convinced. Coran grins. It’s only a matter of time.

~~~~

“I made top pilot in my class again,” Keith says with a broad grin.

Coran stirs his tea and sits down at the table, where the video phone shows Keith’s proud face. He looks so young and innocent- but he wears the Garrison colors and every year he looks more and more like the Keith Coran remembers waking up to.

“Well done! I told you that you’d do it again! One more year and you’ll have all five eh?”

“That’s right,” Keith says, though he looks away sheepishly. “The only one who’s ever done that is… Shiro.”

Coran’s gut twists unpleasantly hearing the name of the man who will be leaving on the ill-fated Kerberos mission in less than a week.

Then Coran has one year. One year to say the right things.

“Then you’re in good company. We’ll celebrate with ice cream when you come home for break yes?”

Keith shifts uncomfortably. “Actually, Shiro’s invited me to stay for the launch, if that’s okay… I won’t see him again for a long time.”

Oh he has no idea.

“Ugh,” Coran moans, clutching his heart in fake agony. “Such is the cruelty of teenieboppers.”

Keith looks nervously to each side. “Teenagers,” he corrects. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Spend time with your friends, Keith. I’ve had ten glorious years watching you grow up.”

Keith smiles tenderly, “our families are all invited for dinner. You’re welcome to come. The Holts are coming too.”

“Oh I’m quite fine here,” Coran assures him. Although he misses Sam and their friendship, he isn’t sure he can look at the man in the eye any more than Shiro. “Have some fun. I’ll be right here when you need me.”

~~~

That time is four months later when without a phone call of warning, Keith comes crashing through the front door and falls to his knees with tears in his eyes.

Coran hugs him tighter than a yelmore grip and cries too without so much as a word exchanged between them.

~~~~~~

“I’m not going back,” Keith says when he comes down for breakfast the next morning. Coran barely stops himself from gasping, for Keith wears the same clothing that he brings to space one year from now.

“What will you do?” he asks with no judgement.

He already knows.

“I’ve always had this weird feeling when I’m out here,” he begins. “I never noticed it until I started school at the Garrison and it wasn’t as strong as when I come home for break.” He lifts his eyes, they shine with an alien purple glint, determined. “I think it wants me to find it.”

Coran nods. “I’ll help you.”

~~~~

It doesn’t take long for the house to fill with papers and corkboard. Keith writes math equations in his journal and Coran corrects them by asking pointed questions. The calculus is beyond what Earth teaches at universities, but it’s elementary for an Altean.

He finds the cave of the Blue Lion. Coran aches but comes with Keith anyway. He’s purposefully not come out here; it’s too painful a reminder of what is to come - of what he hopes will turn into a happy ending. He thinks the Blue Lions knows, too, Coran’s true purpose. The Lions were always smarter than they seem, even when Alfor was molding them.

He can’t help himself; while Keith takes pictures and mutters about what all this might mean in relation to him, Coran lays a shaking hand over an image of the creation of all five Lions. A single figure glows blue, a man set away from the five original Paladins and Allura.

The Blue Lion seems to know exactly who he is.

It’s strange even now to realize he was there in this event depicted by carvings over ten thousand years old.

The thought is just as sobering now as it was when he first woke from the cryopod.

“What do you think all this is, Coran?” Keith wonders from another wall. “What’s calling me is definitely here but… I don’t understand what it is.”

Coran pulls a thumb over the young woman in the creation picture. He closes his eyes. “You will one day,” he promises.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Coran,” Keith says softly, with relief.

~~~~~

“I think I’m stuck.”

Keith sits on the edge of the couch, hunched over and elbows on his knees as he reads the papers on the table. He has taken over the living room with his sketches and calculations. “Something is coming on December 14 and I have no idea what it is.” He sighs deeply. “I’m not even sure if my math is right.”

Coran sets down his book; Synthia will want to know what he thinks of it as soon as possible, but his priority is to help Keith. He is perfectly capable of telling Keith that his math is flawless - as Coran has taught him - but there is a better way.

“Why don’t you ask Katie?” Number Three will surely take up the task seeing as how she’s already decided to go undercover at the Galaxy Garrison in the next school year (only weeks away now).

Keith looks up, conflict in his eyes. “I couldn’t. She lost her father and her brother on the mission. Shiro was just a friend, it’s not the same.”

Coran looks at him sternly. Not sharing the same blood did not make them any less family, not between Shiro and Keith and not between any of the Paladins. “And I am a cooked duflax then?” Coran teases. At Keith’s horrified shake of the head, he continues, “Katie is hurting. You are hurting. You two should be supporting each other, not isolating yourselves. Family is family; blood or not.”

Keith smiles. “Maybe I’ll give her a call.”

~~~~~

“You hammered it, Synthia! It was the butler the entire time!”

Coran speaks excitedly into the video phone. Synthia on the other side, holding up the latest crime novel they’ve finished together.

“But you predicted the method!” she says, bending her knee and clasping her face with excitement. She’s curled her gorgeous red hair these days and it bounces around her face like a skipping xalax. Coran sighs longingly, placing his elbows on the table and setting his cheek in his palm - she looks even more radiant than the night they first met.

“I mean, to use the ink from the old printer to create the poison in the paint, knowing there would be a dare to drink it? It’s brilliant! How did you guess?”

“Oh, it was as easy as pi! If you remember--”

The now familiar sound of Keith returning with the hoverbike cuts him off, snapping his attention towards the door.

“Keith is home?” Synthia asks. She frowns, brows furrowed in concern. “I’m worried about him.”

Coran forces a smile. “Keith will be fine,” he promises. “He just needs time to find his place in the universe. Sometimes that can take some looking!”

Her ruby lips curl up the side of her face. “You’re the best thing to happen to that boy. I’m not sure what would have become of him if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Oh, it wasn’t all me,” Coran admits. No, really his father should take the credit, and Shiro. He’s just repeating it all. “Keith is a good lad, he’ll get there with a little guidance.”

“He is. I’ll let you see to him. See you for dinner on… Sunday, right?”

Tiny weblums swim in Coran’s stomach. This will be a very important dinner - the biggest of his life here in the past. Synthia has been a marvelous companion, and with the days ticking down…

It is time he tells her the truth. She deserves to know.

“Sunday,” Coran confirms. Because he means to be gone before Keith returns home with Shiro and the other Paladins-to-be on Monday night. They will already have a more than capable Coran in space. “And not a tick past seven!”

Syntha says farewell as Keith walks in the door. He’s covered in dust - that jacket will need to be cleaned before tomorrow.

(The Castle washing machines won’t be operational for another week.)

“Did you find everything you need for your outing next week?" he asks.

Keith sets his helmet on the counter and leans into it, exhausted. "I have no idea what's coming, Coran; I'm not sure if I ever could be ready."

Coran hums and takes a sip of his tea. "One is not always ready for what is thrust upon them, but I am certain you will rise to meet whatever challenges that come at you." He winks. "You can be fiercer than a klanmuirel and wiser than a ivorkiv."

A laugh, the first real laugh he's heard in a while. Since before Shiro disappeared. "I don't know how you come up with these things, Coran. Where do you get all your stories?"

Altea won't do, not yet. Coran taps his head. "Right here in the ol' noggin."

"You need to write that book one day," Keith continues. "The one about the princess and the space castle."

Coran smiles. He'd hate to step on Lance's toes. The book will be an intergalactic success. "Perhaps," he affords Keith. "But where's all the fun in letting people look at you like you've grown five heads!"

Keith snorts, and grins. "You'd only need two. You're alien enough as it is, Coran."

~~~~~~

"At least wear a tie," Keith says.

Coran grinds his teeth. Earth clothing is so impractical! The ties on Altea are much more intuitive! "Synthia hasn't minded casual clothing for our rendezvous before and won't mind now."

Keith looks incredulously at him. "This is a big night. If you're going to propose, do it right."

"Who said anything about proposing?" Coran says as he ties the cloth around his neck in a knot.

"What?" Keith spits, surprised. "Coran, you two have been together since I was a little kid."

"And just because two adults enjoy each other's company does not mean marriage is inevitable," he says, slicking his hair back. Pivoting to his side, Coran waggles his eyebrows. Hmm yes, still got the look even with the grey. "I am however, going to ask her to go on an extended vacation with me. She just retired this past year and I want to treat her."

Keith perks up. "Oh? When are you leaving?"

And this is where it hurts. "I'm not sure yet. Very soon. You'll know," he says with a wink. Perhaps its cruel to leave him at this crucial time... but he'll also no longer be needed.

"Did you talk about tomorrow night with Katie?" he asked.

Keith folds his arms, looking away. Sworn to secrecy on her infiltration of the Galaxy Garrison no doubt. "She said she'd be there. I talked her into bringing her flight crew, just like you suggested."

"Oh good," Coran says mildly. Internally he's throwing himself a little party. "More friends for you to make?"

"Oh, I've already met Lance and Hunk," Keith says. He chews his lip. "They were both in my class. We hung out a few times."

Coran fights a large grin. "Oh did you? That's more friends than you claimed to have!"

"We didn't get along at first but... remember when you told me about how being at the top of the class can get on people's nerves? I tried to be calm about it and,” Keith smiles - genuinely happy, “I think we get along now.”

Perfect.

“...You have a good smile, Keith. You should use it more often,” Coran says. Mostly because he isn’t sure what else to say.

Keith chuckles. “You’re being weirder than usual,” he teases.

The car is packed. This is the last time he’ll see Keith before he knows everything. If he has it his way, never again. He’ll have his proper Coran and the other Paladins and Kosmo and his mother with him.

Coran won’t be needed any longer.

But as long as everyone comes home from this war alive, that’s all that matters. And seeing Keith happy has been well worth the wait. He can only hope his lessons come through.

“Tonight’s a big night!” Coran tutts back, wagging a finger. “And tomorrow doubly for you.”

The smile Keith so warmly held evaporates to a frown. He shivers, clutching his arms despite wearing a jacket in the desert heat. “I still don’t know what I’m going to find there, Coran.”

This is the last chance Coran will have to make a difference but…

He gently wraps Keith into a hug. The boy greedily holds fast to Coran’s shirt; as if he knows this is their last talk.

“You are smart and brave and kind, Keith,” Coran says. That part hasn’t changed from when he was a small child. “You will know what to do because your heart will tell you. You don’t need me to do that.

“Be good to your friends,” Coran continues as he pulls Keith closer. “Don’t let them go.”

“I’ll miss you,” Keith says through choked sobs. “You’ll call when on vacation right?”

Coran sucks in deep, and tries not to cry himself. “I will be there for you any time you need me. I swear it. Just ask. No matter what the situation, no matter how busy I may look, you can always talk to me.”

Even if it’s not him, exactly.

~~~~~~

Synthia takes the whole ‘being an alien from the future thing’ rather well - if jumping on him and nibbling on his pointed ears in a quiznakingly fantastic way is any indication.

(She eventually has the breath to say yes.)

~~~~~~

The first stop on their elongated vacation is the nearest national park - the one he and Keith frequented in his childhood. Synthia is in much better shape than he, Coran discovers miserably. Ten years of sedimentary living will do that, even to an Altean.

Coran wheezes, crawling as he lifts a hand to a perfectly nice sitting rock, pulling himself up. Never since visiting Balmera Alpha has he felt such an acute pain to his spine.

But it is nothing compared to watching the Blue Lion lift off into the atmosphere, with five humans in tow.

“Why didn’t you go with them?” Synthia asks, cozy next to him on the rock. “If you’re trying to change the future, wouldn’t it be easier with them?”

“No,” Coran says sadly. “I’d be tempted to change too much. As long as they are loyal to each other, everything will turn out fine.”

She smiles, a wicked one that sends happy chills up his spine, a blessed relief from the burden of waiting. “So then it’s just the two of us then?”

He turns to her and twirls his mustache. “How do you feel about Madagascar?”

~~~~~

Between the two of them - Synthia’s passion for biology and her early scouting days, and Coran’s knowledge of everything else - the two make an ecological home in the jungle.

The Galra don’t find them when Sendak invades. It both relieves Coran, and renews the unsettled feeling in his stomach - for now he knows things are happening in the same way, but also things are happening the same way and people are dying.

Coran sees Voltron for the first time in years, flying overhead to combat Sendak’s fleet.

He isn’t sure what to feel. Pride, for one, they’ve made it this far - they’re still a team.

He’s also anxious, asking the same questions of himself that he has been for the last five years. Did Keith find his mother? What became of Lotor? Of Shiro and his clone?

Did Keith hate him when he realized who Coran is? For not telling him the truth about everything?

Synthia takes hold of his hand and gives it a most comforting squeeze as they watch the IGF-Atlas take a pummeling from the combined firepower of five zaiforge cannons.

What Keith thinks of him hardly matters now, he tells himself.

But it still hurts.

~~~~~

Coran is on the beach two quintants after the Atlas returns home.

He lays back in his hammock, the warmth of the sun no longer bothering him after years of it at this angle. Sunglasses shade his eyes and make spotting the Altean shuttle landing nearby crystal clear to see.

He fingers the vial of Balmeran dust he still wears around his neck. He has only two questions.

Rising, his heart skips a beat seeing Keith again. The boy - no, man now - jumps out of the pod along with Kosmo, a sight that is very encouraging.

Still, even though he knows Keith is not quick to smile, the serious way he stalks up to Coran makes jumbles of his stomach.

Kosmo sniffs him first… and whines in confusion.

Coran kneels scratches the cosmic wolf under the chin, exactly where he likes it. The wolf sits and whimpers in delight.

Then he looks Keith in the eye, the otherworldly purple tint shining through just as it had when he’d talk of space as a child.

“Are you well?” he asks first. “Did you find everything you were looking for?”

And Keith melts, knees hitting the sand and arms reaching around Coran for a hug. “You could have come with us,” he says, nearly sobbing.

Coran exhales. He must have been holding his breath, for his brain and heart feel light. Returning the hug he says, “You had everyone you needed with you. The Castle just wasn’t big enough for two of me.”

His chest tightens - the moment of truth. “Allura?”

Keith squeezes him and Coran’s heart stops. All this for nothing?

No, not for nothing. Not for Keith.

But it hurts. Allura should be alive - enjoying life with the rest of them, her family.

“...waiting a bit impatiently for me to bring you back to the Garrison,” Keith finally says. “She says it isn’t fair for you to be away from us.” A sob catches in his throat. “I agree. You deserve to be with us - your younger self doesn’t mind.” Tears of joy give way to quiet laughter. “He wants to meet you just as bad.”

Coran lets the tears flow - the first time since he said goodbye to Keith in the hospital and came to the past a lifetime ago.

“Honerva and the other realities?” he says as he pulls away, he has to know. This reality is obviously fine but the others…

What did they sacrifice instead?

Keith grins, his cheeks stained with tears, wiping them away with the sleeve of his new black jacket. Maybe to reflect his role as the Black Paladin. Or maybe they never did the Lion swap in the first place. Coran doesn’t care. “Allura tried to sacrifice herself; we wouldn’t let her. The Blue Lion agreed, and so did Voltron. The Lions spit us out and we haven’t seen them again since.”

Voltron sacrificed itself.

Coran can’t help but think back to the day Keith found the Blue Lion’s cave - the glowing blue figure of himself. The Blue Lion knew him - why wouldn’t it also know his purpose.

Forged from the trans-reality comet, it knew, and granted his wish.

“Thank you, Keith,” he says. “Thank you for bringing her back.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Keith grins back, his eyes soft and kind. “Allura still has a long life to enjoy and you’re part of it - and a part of mine too, with Mom and Kosmo, the others and both Shiro and Ryou too. Whatever you did in the future… it was worth it.”

One name is unfamiliar. “Ryou?”

Keith smiles, clearly pleased with himself. “Shiro’s clone. Long story.”

Coran sniffs, inhaling enough snot he’s sure he’ll be sick later. All that’s left is to find Synthia and travel back to the Galaxy Garrison and he’ll be with his family again.

Plus one. He can’t wait to try wrangling yelmores with himself.

If his younger self can pry him away from Allura’s side.

(He has a lifetime and more to make up for.)

#voltron legendary defender #coranweek #vld coran #vld keith #kid keith #vld fanfic #rueitae #my writing #snapshot fic #i hope you all liked it #my first time trying coran pov #tw: character death

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rosesisupposes · 5 years

Text

Dark Side of Hope

Part 9 of Another Goddamn Hero Story

read on ao3

Chapter Relationships: eventual LAMP, emphasis on Analogical, Royality, & Moxiety; Background OC pairing

Chapter Warnings: Graphic imagery, nightmares, hospitals, comas, self-hatred, discussion of the possibility of major character death, lashing out, injury of a sibling (past),

Word Count: 5,887

Taglist: @residentanchor @royally-anxious@bewarethegrammarpolice @jemthebookworm@arandompasserby @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse@thelowlysatsuma @monsterinatophat @turtally-pawsome @um-yes-hi-hello @idkaurl @potestessemagishomosexualitatis@hawthornshadow

(huge, loving thank you to @potestessemagishomosexualitatis for beta-ing <3)

~~~~~~~~~~

Fire. All was fire. Bricks and mortar fell around him, debris scattered in every direction.

The building was collapsing, but he walked through untouched. He heard yells, screams, and terrible silences punctuated by the churn and roar of the inferno surrounding him. Crashes rang out, and the flame was replaced by clouds of dust. The grey mass swirled in close, a claustrophobic column surrounding him. One by one, faces began to appear, profiles carved in debris that stared at him as he moved through the wreckage. He wanted to stop, but knew he didn’t have time. He needed to get to the center.

Voices drifted around him, echoing off fallen, shattered walls.

“Save me!”

“Don’t leave us!”

“Why aren’t you helping?”

He began to run, his destination near. The dust suddenly fell to the ground, the devastation no longer obscured or hidden as he stumbled over piles of what he told himself were just stone and bricks, nothing more. He neared the center, the pull that had urged him on easing at last.

A face in the wreckage. A hand, bruised, reaching out to him. A clear voice, speaking through vocal chords that should have been scratched and rough.

“You let me die.”

Patton awoke in darkness. Once, these nightmares had left him breathless and gasping through choked sobs. Once, he’d suffered from insomnia from the mere thought of encountering those images once again. But he’d since learned he only dreamed once a night. He shifted position, trying to find a comfortable spot in his blankets to fall back asleep.

He gazed up into the night sky. It was late enough tonight and their home far away enough from downtown that he could even see a star or two, along with the brighter planets. The white-and-red lights of a plane blinked silently across the sky, too far away to hear.

Patton took a deep breath, absorbing the night sounds and sights. It seemed all so vivid tonight, more than most. When had he last seen the stars look like this?

When was the last time he had seen the stars at all?

Patton sat up suddenly, pushing his blanket off. He was on the hard ground itself, only stolen pillows and blankets where his bed normally lay. The concrete around him was littered with food in a sad heap, knick-knacks in haphazard piles, and the few electronics they owned. Their home was gone, vanished into air.

Patton grabbed his costume from where the foot of his bed should have been, and dug out the scanner from a small pile of belongings. There was only one thing this could mean. And only two people he could think of that could offer any real help.

~~~~~~

Virgil was very, very tired of being jolted awake by the H.A.T.C.H. beacon. Particularly because he was a light sleeper and set his alarm accordingly at a reasonable volume. Logan, who was blinking but barely awake, could sleep through marching bands (and in fact had once back in school, in an incident involving a bet, the library, and a very well-executed surprise party). The nerd’s blaring alarm had Virgil’s heart racing from the split second it had started, and he woke up properly when his face made contact with the hard floor of Logan’s apartment.

“Lo, get up!” he snapped.

“Five more minutes,” his partner muttered sleepily.

“I’m drinking all the coffee,” Virgil threatened.

An arm shot out of the messed-up sheets, levering the short form up to sitting. “How dare-”

“Good, you’re up,” Virgil called from the closet, tossing Logan’s costume at his head. “It’s HATCH, so let’s get-” He stopped mid-sentence as he looked at his watch. “It’s- the villains calling, actually.”

Logan grabbed his goggles from the bedside table, suddenly much more alert. “That doesn’t bode well.”

“Let’s go.”

They’d barely made it out of the fire escape when the painfully-rushing air around them made it clear that Gale Force was approaching. The villain’s costume was wrinkled and askew, his red curls unevenly fluffy and matted around his head as he landed unceremoniously right between them.

“They got him. They got Ro,” he gasped out, eyes flashing.

“The Marauder? Who’s got him? How do you know?” Logan asked.

“Our home is gone. It’s his construct. His oldest one. Whatever happened, it’s bad, and I’m going to kill whatever piece of shit did this the minute you help me find them,” Patton snapped.

Virgil scowled. “If they killed him, I’ll help you do it.”

“No killing,” Logan interjected disapprovingly. He met the gazes of the two supers and amended, “Not yet. Let’s try to find the Marau- let’s find Roman first. When did they get him?”

Patton frowned, resenting the delay, and opened his mouth to snap at the speedster. Virgil caught his eye and jerked his head lightly. The air manipulator sighed and relented. “He was in a frenzy, flying off into the clouds, so I went home by myself and woke up to realize the house was gone. But it was there when I fell asleep so whatever happened was after dark.”

“A frenzy - was it a manic phase?” Logan said.

“Probably. He has highs and lows, but they don’t normally come on or fade this fast. But that means I have no idea when he would have come down again.”

“And the house missing - this has never happened before?” Virgil asked, his forehead knitting together in worry.

“Never. He’s been knocked out in fights or dead asleep for days at a time an it’s never wavered. Once his constructs are around long enough, they stay that way.”

“So this means that he’s…” Logan began, then stopped himself. “This means he needs our help. Let’s split up to search faster. Gale Force, you know your neighborhood best. Search all your hiding spots and meeting places, sticking to Sycamore Heights and southwest. Reflex, you take northwest. I’ll search the east. We’ll meet back at the statue in forty-five minutes if we don’t find anything, and send a message if we do. Gale, take this, for convenience.” He offered an extra HATCH band. Patton’s face was unreadable as he accepted it and strapped it to his wrist.

“We’ll find him,” Virgil said softly, and squeezed Patton’s shoulder firmly. Then he was off, soaring into the air.

“Forty-five minutes to rendezvous, or send us a ping,” Logan repeated, then he was off too, running to search half the city for a man he’d helped arrest just four days prior after fighting for weeks on end.

The small man was truly a blur today, zipping through the streets, noting oddities and things out of place. He looked for broken entrances, or remnants of crimson light, or anything indicating super activity. The civilians throughout the city seemed to be clips from a movie, slowed to a crawl. It was a strange pantomime of daily life in slow-motion, one that Logan hardly noticed as he ducked in and out of streets.

Zip.

He was in at the harbor, checking around the docks as seagulls moved like uncertain marionnettes through the air above him. A toddler, skipping along with her dad, would have run straight into him had she been moving at full speed.

Whoosh.

He was near the University, checking the labs, taking only a moment to watch his dad move glacially around his instruments. Ooh, is that two different methods of single-cell RNA sequencing being done in tandem? I wonder if he’s getting different results from PCR and IVT, he thought, intrigued, before pulling himself back to task. Roman was still missing. He could indulge in science later.

Fwip.

He was in a small park in the financial district, looking in the gazebo and bushes as he dodged around a dog-walker out with six charges whose floppy ears and tongues were caught in mid-bounce.

Zip.

He was running down streets, checking in and out of alleys and dumpsters. His adrenaline was pumping, far more than normal for this amount of exercise. He felt like he was about to strike a blow against a villain, or dodge an attack. He paused for just a moment, to catch his breath and let himself feel the normal progression of time. Leaning against a smokestack on a roof, his fingers started to tap unconsciously to the beat of the pulsing thoughts in his brain.

Where is he?

Is he okay?

Will we find him?

What do we do if we don’t?

Suddenly, his phone buzzed, and he picked up to Virgil’s low, familiar voice.

“Lo, I found him.”

“Where?”

“Sugarland.”

“Is he…?”

“He’s alive.”

Logan deflated, tension he hadn’t even realized he was carrying melting away, muscles loosening, the tide of thoughts receding back to their normal surf.

“What happened to him?”

“I don’t know, Lo. He’s… unconscious. Pat- Gale Force and I just got him to the hospital. He just went inside with Roman while I called you.”

Logan straightened, adjusting his goggles. “Roman is in a coma?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in a second, Vee.”

And he was. Blurring through the city, Logan arrived at Virgil’s side in a moment. The tall man was still hanging up his phone and putting it in his pocket when Logan wrapped his arms around his partner’s waist and squeezed tight.

“Are you alright?”

“I have to be.”

“But are you?” Logan asked seriously. Virgil was about to respond, but paused, and took a deep breath.

“I’ll feel better once we talk to the doctors.”

“Let’s go then. I’ll follow you. And we should probably change out of our costumes.”

Virgil nodded. Both heroes stepped around in the alley and changed into civilian wear. Virgil walked back into the direct sun, firmly ensconced back in his familiar hoodie, and took another stabilizing breath. “I’ll be okay, Lo.”

“I’ll be here for you even if you’re not, Vee. I love you.”

Virgil turned and cupped Logan’s face with one hand. He smiled into his partner’s eyes, affection and gratitude mixing with his palpable nervousness. Then he turned and walked through the hospital doors, still walking like Reflex in his intensity and speed. Logan paused and typed out a quick message on his phone before following.

~~~~~~

Virgil glanced at his phone, tapped his watch, and turned sharply towards the elevator bay. He strode through the halls, barely glancing at the signs, only checking his surroundings. Elevator. Button. Doors close. Wait. Doors open. Walk out. Left. Down two intersections. Right. Down to the windows. Turn.

He paused at the ward door until he saw movement beyond the door, familiar ginger curls pulling a second chair over to the bed. He knocked, gently, and Patton looked up and nodded.

He felt Patton’s eyes on him as he entered. His cheeks flared with heat. Of course - the villain had never seen him without his mask. Even though he knew he was far more covered in his long sleeves and loose jeans, he suddenly felt indecently exposed.

He cleared his throat. “Have the doctors seen him yet?”

Patton, dressed down in a polo and a cardigan, nodded. “They just went back to consult.”

“Has he …?”

“No,” the ginger man responded, eyes swiveling back to the man lying motionless beside him.

Virgil sat in the extra chair carefully. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he saw Roman’s chest rise and fall and felt his own respond in imitation. The villain appeared to be sleeping, except for a certain stiffness in his posture. That, and the lack of response to even Patton’s desperate shaking when Virgil had called him to the alley where he’d found the unconscious man. The sterile sheets, bluish-grey and stiff, were a stark contrast to Roman’s tan skin, but only managed to make him look washed out and fragile. Virgil couldn’t help but realize he also hadn’t seen the construct-maker unmasked before, either. His unobscured handsomeness was no surprise, and certainly not one of Virgil’s current priorities. Especially not when the mask had been replaced with a neck brace and cannula.

The doctor came in with Logan in tow, and Virgil was on his feet immediately.

“Hello, good morning, I’m his… the one who found him.”

The doctor nodded. “Good morning, I’m Dr. Ahmad. I’ll be Roman’s primary attendant until he’s out of this ward. I’ve already met Mr. Sanders,” she added with a nod to Patton. “Can I have your names as well?”

Logan and Virgil made eye contact, both assessing until Logan spoke. “I’m Logan Lancaster.”

“And I’m Virgil Skylar.”

“Skylar?” Dr. Ahmad asked with an eyebrow raised. “That sounds familiar. But let me tell you all how our patient is doing.”

The three supers moved together to Roman’s bedside, eyes glued to the doctor. Her teal hijab matched the scrubs under her labcoat perfectly, and as she tapped a finger on her clipboard, Virgil noticed her nails matched, too.

“Roman is currently in a state of unresponsiveness. We are not yet able to determine if he is fully in a comatose state. What that means is we’re not sure if he is aware of his surroundings, but he does not appear able to respond to any stimuli.”

“Do you know how he ended up like this?” Virgil asked. “Any trauma, any internal bleeding?”

“We’ve found no trauma, no bruising, no internal bleeding. From preliminary scans, there’s nothing inside the skull, either. Besides being underfed, he’s in remarkably good health. Except, of course, for the lack of consciousness. Do any of you know of his medical history?”

Logan scratched the back of his neck. “I believe he may have untreated and undiagnosed bipolar disorder. But I’m not a professional, and haven’t conducted an assessment regardless. As far as family history…” he looked over at Patton, who was rubbing small circles on Roman’s thigh.

“There’s no other family to contact,” the ginger-haired man replied shortly. “And he’s never been to a doctor before.”

Dr. Ahmad nodded. “Understood. Unfortunately, because we can’t tell what induced the current state, we can’t make a prognosis at the current time.”

“Does this hospital have specialists in recognizing and treating illness induced by enhanced abilities?” Logan asked.

The doctor turned to him, then looked over the other visitors. “Ah,” she said quietly. “You’re those four. Yes, we do. They’re not in yet today, but we’ll send for them as soon as possible. Hopefully they’ll get us some more definite answers. Until then, all we can do is make Roman comfortable and hope he wakes on his own.”

“We can stay with him, right?” Patton asked, not looking up from where his eyes were fixed on Roman’s unconscious face.

“Visiting hours end at eight pm…” she began, but Virgil made eye contact with an eyebrow raised. “Visiting hours officially end at eight,” she amended. “And in my official capacity, I must of course advise you to leave by then. But we do have a tendency to, ah, miss certain wards in the nightly rounds.”

Patton squeezed Roman’s hand, steadfastly refusing to look away from his partner’s face. “What does that mean? I can’t… I don’t have anywhere else I could possibly be, not now.”

Virgil placed a careful hand on the villain’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “It means you can stay, Patton. No one is going to make you leave him alone.”

“I’ll be back later for further tests and any updates,” the doctor said. “The call button is here, and there’s a nurse stand down the hall to the left if you need anyone or anything.” She scribbled a note on Roman’s chart, nodded to them all, and departed.

Patton scooted his chair closer and brushed Roman’s hair out of his face. “Rospberry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered to the unconscious man. “I should have stayed with you. I should have kept you safe.”

Logan stood at the foot of the bed, reading the chart, but looked up at Patton’s quiet remark. “You cannot blame yourself for this, Gale- Patton. Whoever put him in this state is the one who owns all of the responsibility. Roman’s a good fighter - to still be caught means he must have been taken entirely by surprise.”

Patton looked back at Logan, a strange expression on his face. “I- thank you, Doc. Logan, was it?”

“Yes. Logan Lancaster.”

“Sorry, what was that, I think your volume’s too low-”

“I said-”

“-gan!”

Logan inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. “God, not even my dad’s come up with that one yet, and he gave me that name.”

“What can I say, Doc, I really got that Pat-ernal spirit!”

“...I might scream.”

“Dr. Ahmad will yell at you if you do,” Virgil put in, watching the exchange with amusement.

“She cannot do anything further to hurt me, not when I’m subjected to these puns no matter where I go.”

“You don’t find them humorous?” Patton asked, eyes dancing. Virgil smirked, but didn’t stop Logan as he replied.

“No, I do not.”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re in the hospital, you’ve clearly lost your funny bone!”

Logan stood up straight and walked over to the wall, where he made a show of slowly beating his head against it.

Virgil snorted and sat by Roman’s side once more. He hesitated, then reached out to hold the unconscious man’s hand. It felt off, somehow. He glanced down, and his eyebrows shot up.

“Lo, c’mere for a sec.”

Logan came up behind Virgil, resting his hands on his partner’s shoulders. “What is it?”

“Look at this - doesn’t this look like a deliberate fist?”

“You’re right, it does. Do you think he did it on purpose as he was going unconscious?”

“Maybe- can you check the other hand?”

Logan crossed, and carefully moved the sheets to reveal Roman’s right hand. “It’s a three, look! Fist and three - was he attacked by three people at once?”

Virgil was on his feet, pacing. “What trios do we know who are operating right now? Probably need to look at both heroes and villains and maybe even neutrals, they all could have some objection to what the Crimson Marauder’s been doing. Or he could have been in civilian wear, which pushes slightly more to villain or neutral.”

“There’s the copycat Fang Patrol attempting to form in the Heights, they’d be a likely enemy, right?” Logan mused. “I think the records I’ve seen indicate Roman was involved in defeating the original Patrol. Or the Triceras might be back in town.”

“Boys,” Patton said.

“I think Orion is operating again too, all three of them. We should call Talyn, they’d be able to help us narrow this down-”

“Boys,” Patton repeated, interrupting the back-and-forth. “Roman already told us exactly who attacked him.”

Both heroes turned, Virgil surprised, Logan skeptical. “How so?”

“Look at his hands. This isn’t just a fist. It’s a fist with the thumb on the side. That with the three fingers? He’s spelling in ASL. It’s ‘A’ and ‘W.’”

“Oh,” Virgil said, both heroes blushing slightly.

“Agent Whisper again,” Logan muttered. “I’d suspected, but hoped not.”

“This is all our fault,” Virgil said in a low voice, sitting down heavily. “We left him unprotected, knowing this fucker was out there.”

“Virge-” Logan began, but Virgil just shook his head miserably and took Roman’s hand in his again. Patton shifted his chair so he could mirror Virgil’s position on the other side, rubbing the back of Roman’s motionless hand with his thumb. Virgil looked up at the movement, and met Patton’s gaze. Both sets of eyes burned with the fire of revenge tempered by a stormcloud of guilt. Logan paused, unsure of how to help, but settled with resting his hands on Virgil’s shoulders and giving what he hoped was a comforting squeeze.

~~~~~~

Doctors and nurses came in sporadically over the course of the day, taking Roman’s pulse, drawing blood for additional tests, and checking all indicators of responsiveness. The three supers shifted around the room to give them space, never straying too far. The clock’s almost-imperceptible ticking swelled into a cacophony as Patton got quieter and quieter, his mouth settling into a grim line.

“I can’t take this anymore!” he finally burst out. “Roman might be dying and there’s nothing I can do! I can’t stand to see this, I can’t bear to lose him!”

He was halfway to the door where Virgil sped to stop him, hands braced against his shoulders and eyes blazing. “You can’t give up hope, Patton. You can’t leave him now, I know you can’t, because not knowing would be even worse than seeing him like this.” He talked low but quickly, trying to cram as many words as he could into Patton’s hearing before the villain stormed past him, literally. “I know this is painful, feeling helpless and guilty all at once. But Roman wouldn’t want you to be racing off, not when it means you could end up in your own bed next to him or worse. If you really need to get out of this room, at least take one of us with you, okay? Stay safe.” He saw Patton ready to spit out a biting response and preempted it. “Don’t do this for me. Do it for him.”

Patton looked ready to blast Virgil through a wall, blue eyes stony and cold. He stared hard at the tall hero for a long, tense moment, then finally deflated.

“I’m just so…” he trailed off.

“Worried? Scared?” Virgil suggested. “It’s okay. We’ll get through this. The doctors will help, and if Roman can hear us, even the tiniest bit, we’ll let him know we’re here for him, okay?”

Patton sagged further, and leaned forward into Virgil’s chest. Virgil’s eyes widened, but he moved automatically in response nonetheless, carefully wrapping his arms around the shorter man’s shoulders.

A knock on the door surprised them all, and Patton sprang out of Virgil’s grip. They all assumed it was another round of medical staff, and Logan was the first to call out, “Come in!”

In came two women, wearing neither scrubs nor lab coats. But their appearance caused Virgil to gasp in delight.

“Mum! Mama! What’re you doing here?!” Without waiting for an answer, he crossed the room and seized both women in a single tight hug, lifting them slightly off the ground as he did so.

“Lolo texted us,” the taller responded as Virgil put them both back on their feet. “He knew you’d need family.” She pushed back the red hairs that were falling out of her ponytail, smiling up at her son. They shared a similar build and jawline, but Virgil maintained he’d not inherited nearly the full level of dorkiness that either of his moms possessed. She waved at Logan at the back of the room, and turned to Patton. “Hello, I’m Celeste Skylar, Virgil’s Mum.”

“And I’m Tatiana, his Mama,” her wife said, extending a hand to shake. Patton took it carefully and shook it, seeming uncertain. Tatiana smiled wide, teeth flashing bright against her dark skin. “I’m sorry to have to meet a friend of Virgey’s in such a difficult context, but all I’m thinking right now is how much I love your curls!”

Patton hesitantly smiled back. “Hi, I’m Patton Sanders. I’m, uh. Virgil’s coworker?” he asked, glancing at the hero.

“Oh, we know about the whole thing,” Celeste said breezily, twiddling a hand to somehow indicate superpowers. “Are you one of the lovingly-frustrating villains?”

Virgil flushed. “Mum, that is not how I described them.”

“Yes, dear, but I can read between the lines. Or, listen, in this case. Logan, come here, it’s been too long.”

Logan obediently accepted enthusiastic hugs from both women, Tatiana planting a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for texting me, sweetie. This is why we trust you with our boy. Now. How’s our patient?”

Virgil nodded to Patton, who led the moms over to the bed. “This is Roman. We found him early this morning, and think he’s been unconscious for over twelve hours now.”

Tatiana’s lips tightened for a moment as she gazed at Roman’s sleeping form. But she looked up again at Patton with a warmer expression. “And he’s your partner?”

“In all senses of the word, yes.” He looked down and smoothed Roman’s hair. “He’s my sunlight.”

“Then this is hard, like nothing you’ve done before,” Celeste said, her voice soft. “Because it’s nothing you can fight or fix, you just have to wait.”

Patton nodded, still on edge.

“That’s why we’re here. We’ll help get you set up to make the waiting easier,” Tatiana explained warmly. “I can’t tell you it won’t keep being hard, because I know it will. But the logistics don’t have to be what makes it hard. Now, let’s get you set up.”

Virgil and his moms immediately started moving. Virgil went to the waiting room around the corner and came back easily carrying two large, cushioned chairs. Celeste opened a nondescript cupboard to reveal a case of warm blankets. Tatiana sent Logan down to the nurse station to get extra pillows, while she produced bags and bags of snacks from her purse. Together they assembled a makeshift bed, right next to Roman’s.

Patton watched all this unfold, staring. He sat on the edge of the newly-formed bed and looked up at the wives. Tatiana was leaning against Celeste’s shoulder and their hands were interlocked as they both looked down at Roman.

“Why are you being so helpful?” he asked, brow furrowed. “You don’t know me, or Ro, and your son only stopped fighting us about four days ago…”

“Because we can,” Tatiana replied. “Because no matter who you are, you deserve to get the full mom treatment.”

Patton’s throat formed a lump, and he looked down at his lap. A hand lifted his chin until he was staring into Celeste’s bright blue eyes. She spread her arms. “You look like you could use a hug, honey.”

Patton stood and threw his arms around her waist as tears suddenly began to fall for the first time all day. He felt another set of arms circle behind him as he cried into Celeste’s pink denim jacket, and he felt Tatiana start stroking his hair.

“This okay, sweetie?”

All he could do was nod.

Eventually, his sobs subsided, and he sat back into his makeshift bed. Celeste sat with him, rubbing circles in his lower back. He felt the tears threatening to return as he remembered Miss Parsons doing the same, once upon a time. Tatiana brought him water and pushed a packet of fruit gummies into his hands.

“Thank you.”

“It’s the least we can do, sweetie. I don’t know if Virgil’s told you, but he has siblings about your age. 22 and 20 now, bless them.”

“Speaking of our other children, Tati, we do need to get home to them soon,” Celeste said regretfully.

“I-” Patton started, then hesitated.

“Hm?”

“How do I do this?” Patton whispered. “How do I just wait and watch and worry and not explode?”

Tatiana and Celeste both reached out at the same moment, their hands joining like puzzle pieces. Tati looked down, thinking, then met Patton’s gaze. “I won’t tell you it’s easy, because it’s not. Nothing about it is easy. It’s draining, emotionally and physically. But you keep going, you power through, because you love him. Because you want to be there the minute something changes. Because there’s a slight, slight chance that he can hear you and you want him to know that he’s never alone.”

“Be kind to yourself, dear,” Celeste added. “Remember to eat. Let yourself rest. Let yourself feel. And don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

Patton nodded in wordless thanks, unable to speak. The women stood and hugged both Virgil and Logan thoroughly before departing with a last wave.

~~~~~~

In the silence that followed, Virgil sat in one of the other chairs, near to Patton without crowding, and Logan sat down on his other side. All three supers paused to watch Roman’s chest rise and fall in time with the sounds of the oxygen machine and the blips of the heart rate machine as accompaniment.

“You had family here in the hospital,” Patton said to Virgil after a pause. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. My little sister. Sandry.”

“...can I ask?”

Logan grimaced and reached over for Virgil’s hand, giving a comforting squeeze. Virgil smiled weakly at him before responding. “I mean, yeah, at this point, you might as well know.” He took a deep breath. “It’s not pretty, though.”

Patton chuckled humorlessly. “What about any of this is?” He took Roman’s hand in his and settled in to listen.

Virgil’s gaze remained fixed on the speckled floor tiles as he spoke.

“We knew I had powers early. Flight and strength are both pretty flashy. But they weren’t disruptive or anything. And Mum and Mama didn’t want to take me out of school, so I just stayed in my public school out in the suburbs. They hadn’t heard of any alternatives. And for the most part it was… normal, I guess. No one suspected that I hated gym because I’d be too good at it, they all just thought I was an awkward emo nightmare. Which, to be fair, was true. But in middle school, things started to change. I accidentally hovered sometimes, or sat too heavily and broke chairs, or slammed doors open and cracked the walls. People started making fun of me, thought I was just a terrible klutz. I wasn’t super confident to start with, between being mixed and caught between those two worlds and having two moms. When I first realized that people made it a thing that Mum is a trans woman, or that Jacques and Alex are enbys, I stopped talking about my family. But as my powers kept bursting out of me, I started trying to hide in plain sight all the time, tried to appear smaller, and I learned to be afraid. Afraid of what people would say and were saying. Afraid that they’d target my siblings or moms. Afraid that my next mistake would be super noticeable. Afraid that everyone would find out about my powers and I’d never be anything other than Virgil the Freak.

“It just got worse. The more I thought and worried about hiding my powers, the more they broke away with me. I was constantly on edge, hiding in my hoodie in the back of the classroom, hoping no one would look at me or notice me or even think about me. And then one day, when I was fifteen, I accidentally picked up an entire wall of lockers to get an assignment that had fallen under a crack. I thought no one saw me but… I was in my yard that night, scrolling on my phone, when I started getting text after text of these dumb memes and messages making fun of me. Then I got a call. Six of my classmates, all on speaker, all together at someone’s house, laughing at me. I hung up on them, but I’d already started crying. It felt like all my fears were coming true, and I was panicking. I couldn’t breathe or think straight, and the world felt like it was moving way too fast and also frozen at the same time. Sandry heard and came out to comfort me, to try to talk me down, literally, because I’d started hovering again, all curled up in a tiny ball.”

Virgil paused, taking in a deep, shuddering breath. Logan squeezed his hand and started rubbing his back in small, comforting circles. Patton watched solemnly, not interrupting.

“All I can say is I didn’t realize it was her,” he continued, his voice hollow. “All I could hear was their laughter, all I could see was the taunts I’d been receiving, and when she touched my arm… I exploded. I screamed at her to get away, and it triggered the power I didn’t yet know about. I blasted her into the big old oak tree in our yard and she hit it full force, frozen in the middle of reaching out for me. The crack as she connected…” he shuddered. “I’ll never forget it. It’s the worst sound I’ll ever hear. But it was enough to break through, for me to come back to myself, to see what I’d done. I started sobbing and yelling for Mum and Mama and Jacques and Liv and Alex and they all came running out. They were horrified, and terrified. Of me.

“We broke every single speed limit on the way to the hospital - to here. I was almost fully mute with shock but we were able to tell them it had been a super accident. Sandry was bruised all over and non-responsive. We didn’t know for a full day if she was still frozen from my power or the injuries, but we found out she was in a fully comatose state. My little sister, Sandra Skylar, was eleven years old and in a coma, the doctors had no idea when or if she’d wake up, and I’d put her there. It was my fault. And if she died, brain-dead, never waking again, that would have been my fault too,” Virgil finished, voice cracking.

Logan shifted to hug his boyfriend around the shoulders, shushing softly. “It’s okay, Virge. She recovered, and your family still loves you, and that’s when you got the help you needed.” Turning to Patton, he explained, “It lasted a week, and in that time, the hospital staff learned that Virgil wasn’t enrolled at HEARTS, the super school. His moms hadn’t heard of it, but the minute they did, they got him transferred, so he could get instruction on how to manage his powers and get support for the ups and downs of using them. And that’s where we met. It’s where he became a hero.”

Virgil leaned into Logan for a moment and brushed away his tears. “Only half-right, Lo. That was where we met, but here is where I became a hero. Or resolved to be one.” He gazed over at Roman’s still form. “Spending days and nights on end, seeing her in that bed, hoping desperately that she would be okay… I promised anyone who was listening that if she survived, I’d never let it happen again. That I’d learn control, and that I’d keep her and everyone like her safe. I wish I could say it was because it was the right thing to do, but so much of it was just knowing what that pain felt like, knowing what I’d done.”

“Wait, really?” Patton asked. “Heroes are allowed to be doing it for something other than Truth, Justice, and the American WayTM?”

Logan was frowning. “Well, not ideally, but-”

“We all want to, but most of us don’t,” Virgil interrupted. “Or maybe we did when we were young and now it’s just a job, a specialized skill we have. Not all of us can be as pure as the Doc over here.”

Patton hesitated, then reached out and took Virgil’s hand. “Thank you for trusting me with your story.”

Virgil shot him a small smile. “Thanks for listening.”

“But, Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you use that force wave power, it better be against the bastard who put Ro here.”

“You’ve got yourself a fucking deal.”

~~~~~~

a/n: Backstory! Moms! Momming!

(I love Virgil's moms very much, I know far too much about them for characters who haven't appeared until chapter 9. Please ask me about them. i love them)

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