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ironmandeficiency · 3 years

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rain clouds

pairing: maxwell lord / reader

word count: 2813

summary: i don’t even know what to say abt this one except it’s filled with yearning

a/n: this was gonna be super soft and happy but then it got soft and sad and then soft and happy again. posting from mobile yet again. tbh idek if this makes a lick of sense, we will see

warnings: mentions of shitty parents (maxwell’s dad & alistair’s mom), hints at child neglect & cps, anxious max, don't worry it gets fluffy

maxwell lord hasn’t had a day off since he founded black gold cooperative. that business was his baby long before he had a living baby with his ex wife, and loved both just as much. there was no such thing as a “sick day” to max; any day spent sleeping or healing is a day lost in the pursuit of greatness, the pilgrimage to the top of the corporate food chain. the only one he would ever make an exception for is alistair, and even then work would sometimes interrupt.

there was a time, almost too long ago for him to vividly remember, where maxwell did more than work. when he actually got his hands dirty in something that didn’t have anything to do with corporate schemes, and laughed with genuine glee more often than scowled. it was a long time ago now, and no one would ever believe it if they were told that maxwell lord ever got dirty with, well, dirt.

“come on! you gotta try this, it’s great!” the memories of his only friend have become worn with constant reminiscing, his mind unsure as to what’s real and what he imagined to fill in the gaps left by age and new priorities.

maxwell had found a secluded section of the park down the street from the apartment you both lived in, one safe from the eyes of bullies and adults alike. his feet were bare as the day he was born while making leaps and bounds in the abundant mud puddles from yesterday’s rain. he did his best to not let what little joy he found be dwindled by circumstance — his shitty father and reticent mother and the lingering ghost of poverty — the way others lost theirs. max believed himself different than that and carried himself as such no matter what others said.

you were still on the sidewalk, watching your best friend with awe and curiosity. the idea of traipsing through mud barefooted was exhilarating, but you knew that if your clothes got dirty, your mother would hang you out to dry alongside the clothes you were wearing. how did it feel to have the mud between your toes, the rainwater soaking into your skin? you didn’t remember, but you would like to.

to be honest, maxwell didn’t expect you to join him. he didn’t think you would ever try to break out of the box of propriety your family shoved you in, not now or ever. but the next thing he knew, he heard another set of feet splashing around in the puddles he had just vacated, making a path to where he stood. a playful shriek he knew as yours rang through the air and he immediately turned to you, wanting to see your face as you enjoyed yourself for the first time in a long time. “maxwell, this is wonderful! why didn’t you get me to do this earlier?”

you never looked more beautiful to him than when the afternoon sun shone on you, your smile bright and laughter clear and joyous. you were free as lady liberty, splashing around like there wasn’t a single other thing you had to do. then you take his hand and max swears that he’s seeing stars. before you know it, you’re dancing in the mud to the song of the birds in the trees. is it just max’s imagination, or do you tell him you love him?

your lips are on his and it’s magic. his shirt is being gripped in tight fists and his hands are magnetized to your waist, holding each other tight enough to need a crowbar to separate you. there’s nowhere he would rather be than back there with you…

but it’s been far too many years since he’s seen or heard from you, there’s no telling if you’re even in the country still at this point. it took a long time for him to not dolefully gaze at every door you could walk through once he left for college, hoping to see that radiant smile and hear you say his name so reverently.

but these days, reverence is the last thing maxwell thinks he deserves, not after the dreamstone debacle. hell, he isn’t even completely convinced that he can adequately take care of alistair despite the low standards his father and his ex-wife have presented him with. despite these doubts (and the perplexing way that everyone acted as if he never almost took over the world), he was just given full custody of alistair when the school called cps on his ex-wife for neglect. it was a terrible way to get a second chance at doing right by his son, but it’s a second chance nonetheless.

after seeing sense and liquidating black gold while he still could get something to survive with, he and alistair found a two bedroom apartment in a nice part of town. it was miniscule compared to what he had but it was a sight more than what he could have ended up with. besides, max had no time to be frivolous when he had his son to protect.

back to the grindstone he went. he knew that people would recognize him if he kept his current appearance and name, so he retired the lord name and decided on another fresh start. he slowly adjusted to using lorenzano after so many years rejecting it, got the blond removed from his hair. he found a job in financial advisory, and ironically enough, he was damn good at it. he knows what he’s doing when it comes to money that isn’t his, who’d have thought?

he actually knew a couple people from work that he almost considered friends. honestly he wasn’t sure what that word meant anymore, didn’t remember the feelings that were supposed to be associated with having them. but it was enough, truly more than enough; because this progress meant that he was dragging himself out of the grave he dug, because he was taking care of his son first and foremost.

alistair was put into a new school; nothing fancy, just the nicer public school that was a pleasing midpoint between work and their apartment. the first day he attended, alistair came home with so many good stories about the friends he made and the games they played at recess. within a few months he had been contacted by his teacher who had nothing but praise for little alistair lorenzano. his little boy was excelling and max couldn’t have been more proud than he was during that phone call. seconds after he hung up, he found alistair in his bedroom and wrapped him in a massive hug, making sure to emphasize the fact that max was proud of his son.

and then there was his neighbor. they lived across the hall from him and max would only catch the tail end of their arrivals and departures to their apartment. he did think it was rather odd, their strangely adept ability at avoiding him. if he didn’t know any better he’d think it was on purpose.

it wasn't intentional — not quite.

you had been avoiding your neighbor, but it had nothing to do with the oil commercials or dreamstone debacle — your new neighbor made you sad. the feeling would hit every time you saw him. his mere presence dusted off long-worn and cherished memories of a time where the sun felt warmer on your skin, where smiles came easier than heartache.

it took a long while before you realized why: it was because this mystery man reminded you of a love long lost to the dagger of circumstance. something about his walk, or maybe his hands during the times you’d see him open his apartment door, reminded you of what an older maxwell lorenzano could have been. the section of your heart that housed your thoughts of maxwell had been wrapped in caution tape with every hazard sign known to man flashing around it for many years, not wanting to venture there for more than a few moments in fear of hurting yourself even more.

if only you realized it was really max that you were so adamantly avoiding.

three months went by of max wondering why he still has yet to meet his neighbor. not that it was imperative to his daily survival, but his curiosity was all but tearing him apart at the seams. he didn’t know what else to do; yes he wanted to know his neighbor, but how did he go about that when they never saw each other?

“just knock on their door, daddy. be their friend, like you tell me to do when i go to school.” the childlike innocence alistair speaks with betrays the actual feasibility of the idea. maxwell was overthinking everything! people talked to their neighbors all the time! this could just be a simple “hey are you doing okay?” and the chips would fall where they may.

maxwell ruffles his son’s hair affectionately, pulling him into a small hug. “you know what? that’s exactly what i’m gonna do. thanks buddy, i’ll be right back.” it’s only across the hall, max isn’t gonna be gone long.

it’s been years since he’s done anything this casually daring. everything he did for decades was all high risk yielding high reward. talking to his neighbor should seem simple in comparison — it presented no drastic consequence if it went belly up, he almost never saw his neighbor anyway. that wouldn’t change after he finally sated his curiosity, certainly not.

once alistair’s homework is finished and is entranced by the television, maxwell decides to head next door, being sure that the house keys are in his pocket before shutting the door. he probably should have thought it out more than he did — he had no idea about his neighbor’s work schedule or if they had kids or a spouse, if they were a serial killer or an introvert. or even worse, if they happened to be someone who remembers everything he’s done. that would be his luck, his first true attempt at making a friend being thwarted with the magnitude of his past sins.

he doesn’t hear his own front door open, alistair’s head poking out to watch his dad. “knock, daddy!” he whisper-shouts and nearly shakes maxwell out of his skin. the little boy laughs at his dad’s startled expression before nodding and shutting the door back.

max went to knock but realized with his knuckles only an inch from the wood that his hands were peculiarly slippery. when did maxwell’s hands get so clammy? there was nothing to be nervous about. he was just going to attempt to make a friend, like his son simplified.

but the thing is, maxwell knows that it’s been decades since he’s had a friend. the last time someone outside of his son was kind to him not for the zeroes he wrote in checkbooks was you, and sometimes he even doubted that you were real. there are hazy memories of him as a teen that splashed in mud puddles and kissed a being of pure sunshine with the innocence of youth. he hopes they’re real, for his sake and for the sunshine he romped around the park with. maybe memories of him are keeping you sane the way your memory did for him.

as his thoughts spiraled, maxwell lost his nerve. with a heaping dose of irrationality, he didn’t want to disappoint whoever was on the other side of the door. turns out, there was no one on the other side.

“excuse me, did you need something?”

your first instinct when seeing a man almost knocking on your apartment door, on a normal day, was not to be so polite. but you were having a strangely good day and there was no reason to bring down the positive energy with an abrasive attitude. plus, the man looked so conflicted. he seemed to need a friend.

“i, uh, live across the hall, have been for a few months and never got to meet you.” a small gesture to the side shifted your attention to the door across from yours — and the little boy who had the door cracked just enough to see the interaction between you and who you think must be his dad.

this man’s voice, something about it was familiar. he moved from in front of your door and extended his hand towards you in an effort for a decent introduction. “i’m maxwell lor-lorenzano.”

maxwell lorenzano. you never would have thought that out of all the people to have graced this apartment building, he would be one. his hands were still softly strong and shoulders still broad. his eyes were still the same striking shade of brown, but there was a lot more pain there, a lot of experience that was clearly pushing him down by his shoulders and into the depths of anguish. yet there he was, keeping his head above water and still being kind. this truly was your max.

you take his hand with a soft smile, squeezing it gently as you give your name. “it’s been a long time, max.”

max couldn’t believe it. after all these years, it was you.

you had moved in across the street from him in his early teenage years and had become acquainted when walking to school and home. the two of you trekked through high school together, ignoring the cruelty of classmates and focusing on getting to the future, to freedom. hope of being friends after high school was abundant in the beginning, but soon your paths sent you further and further away from each other and towards a future neither of you were sure you wanted without the other.

“it really has been a while. i- i uh,” he could barely string a sentence together anymore. his shock and joy of seeing you again had his brain melting into goo and his tongue an almost immovable weight. “i missed you.” the blood rushed to your face the way it always did when you were with max. even when stuttering over his words and a hand rubbing at the back of his neck, he was still charming.

max noticed your attire and the wet umbrella in hand and was immediately taken back to that day spent in the park after it rained, when he . the sunshine on his skin, your smile that never failed to take his breath away…

a soft smile was on max’s lips but his eyes were somewhere else. “max? is everything okay?”

“do you remember the day we went to the park, when we splashed in the puddles and-“

“and when i kissed you? i could never forget if i tried.”

you really did kiss him! it made him want to do it again, as many times as you would let him. but that brought one little stipulation with it: alistair.

what would you say when you found out he had a son?

before max’s thoughts could dampen your reunion, you continued, and with every word, you solidified your place in his heart. “maybe we could do that again some time, just like we used to. and you could bring your son too, if you’d like.” you were jumping out on a limb by assuming that the little boy was his son, but with the apparent protectiveness max displayed around him when you see them together, what else could he be?

“that sounds so fun! can we, dad?” alistair made his presence known by pummeling into max’s legs, nearly knocking him over with an excited hug. you grinned at the affection, watching max’s eyes fill with warmth as he gazed at his son. “i don’t see why not. just change into some play clothes and get your raincoat from the hall closet.”

alistair shoots with glee and is immediately running back to the apartment, excited to change clothes and play in the rain. you watch max’s eyes as they light up at alistair’s happiness, that flicker reminding of you of when you were younger and the world was kinder to you both.

here was your second chance with max, another opportunity to be with someone who never stopped loving you even as the seasons changed and the zeroes increased. “i’ll let you guys get changed, come knock when you’re ready to go.”

feeling an uptick in bravery, max placed a quick peck to your cheek before he turned toward his apartment. “will do, see you in a few.” the risk he took was well worth seeing you grow bashful at the affection, eyes flitting to your shoes before back at him, a soft smile across your lips. you watched him walk away before going back into your apartment, waiting for the rest of your life to begin at the rapping of knuckles on solid oak.

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#maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord reader insert #maxwell lord imagines #emotional support capitalist #maxwell lord #pedro pascal #i’m soft #i’m not sure what this is but i hope y’all like it #ww84

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drunkserval · 3 years

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A Fresh Canvas: Incomplete Preview

Quite some time ago I did a silly little thread on Twitter, and I’ve always wanted to take that and actually make something out of it. Well it was a little harder than expected, but it’s coming along!

When I have the entire thing done I will be uploading it to AO3, but for now it seemed seasonally appropriate to at least drop this.

I wanted to have this posted yesterday but festivities kept me busier than expected! Story is below the cut. Keep in mind that this is still technically a rough draft, and will receive its final beta pass before the full story hits AO3.

(Tentative) Title: A Fresh Canvas Fandom: Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System by MXTX Rating: G, No Warnings Apply Summary: Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan are neighbors in the same modern apartment complex who, despite looking similar enough to be mistaken for each other, couldn’t be any more different. Or so they think.

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Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan were neighbors in the same apartment complex. They lived on the same floor, in the same hall, and were often mistaken for one another due to this proximity combined with how similar their appearances were.

But there were key differences, as both would readily point out to their neighbors. Shen Jiu’s hair hung shy of his shoulders while Shen Yuan’s was shorter and lighter in tone.

And still the mix-ups kept happening, particularly if they were at some distance or facing away. The misunderstanding would very rarely last past the first glance since Shen Jiu would snap and take immediate offense, and Shen Yuan would just sigh and say, "Sorry, wrong one."

Shen Yuan had no idea why Shen Jiu got so offended over it. Surely he didn’t look that bad, come on!

The neighbors eventually started learning to look at the clothes first--or to at least look for Shen Yuan’s thick-rimmed glasses.

Both men carried and dressed themselves so differently. Shen Yuan dressed in hoodies and jeans--well, if he was planning on going any further than the mailbox, that was. Otherwise why bother changing out of pajamas or sweatpants?

On the other hand, Shen Jiu didn’t touch anything that wasn’t from a known designer.

Shen Jiu spent proudly--and why shouldn’t he? Because he at least earned his money!

That Shen Yuan kid down the hall? Rumor was that his parents were paying his rent and he'd never had a real job in his life.

But because he never went out, Shen Yuan was one of the only people still hanging around the apartment complex when Shen Jiu went around knocking during a major holiday.

In Shen Jiu’s arms was a box containing two fluffy black pups.

Shen Yuan’s eyes widened at the sight of them and he completely forgot to greet his neighbor until Shen Jiu cleared his throat. The dogs were like little storm clouds with feet and stubby tails, staring back at him with big black eyes. One started wagging its tail with such vigor that its whole back end wiggled about.

It took Shen Jiu a moment to find his voice as he followed, such was the state that his neighbor had chosen to answer the door in. Hideous cucumber-print pajama pants, a tacky anime shirt covered in snack crumbs, and unkempt hair had greeted him. But the continuous movement of the box in his arms reminded him of his mission.

“I found... ” Shen Jiu shifted the box in indication as Shen Yuan shut the door behind them, “these, out by the garbage.”

Shen Yuan blinked as the other passed by him, “Have you tried calling any nearby shelters?”

“Of course I have,” Shen Jiu scoffed at the implication that he was so simple. “You try getting a real person on the phone today, though. It’s impossible. I could only leave messages.”

Shen Yuan put a finger to his lips, “Oh, right. Today is…” Glancing at a wall calendar almost as ugly as his shirt he nodded, “Right. Right.”

Did this kid ever so much as leave the building? Shen Jiu was starting to wonder. Shen Yuan dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed in the latter part of the daytime. And he hadn’t realized it was a major holiday. And then there were the countless odorous takeout boxes covering every available surface in his apartment.

Shen Jiu wrinkled his nose but still asked in spite of his rapidly growing doubts, “You don’t know anyone who can take these little mutts in for a day or two, do you?”

Shen Yuan shook his head and heard Shen Jiu sigh. His neighbor set the box down to give his arms a rest… but Shen Yuan couldn’t seem to rip his attention away from one of the pups. It hadn’t stopped staring at him, or shaking its fluffy little behind, for a moment.

“What if we take them in?”

Shen Jiu’s tone was flat, “What.”

Shen Yuan picked up the excited little pup and it immediately started wiggling in his grasp. Not struggling, however--just trying to get closer to his face, paws waving in the air and its little pink tongue darting out to reach for him even though it was still well outside of range. He had to fight back the urge to laugh at the silly little storm cloud.

“The building allows us to have one animal per unit, right?” Shen Yuan shrugged, “so what if we each took one, even just long enough to find them new homes?”

Shen Jiu frowned. Taking in a dog, or really any animal, had never been on his agenda. He liked his nice clean apartment and intact furniture unlike a certain someone. Plus he was more partial to cats. He moved his gaze from the overexcited animal back to the box. Though the pups looked identical on the surface this one was clearly the calmer one. It looked up at his scowling face but put forth no such ridiculous display… thank goodness.

Who knew? Maybe Shen Yuan’s idea wasn’t so bad. And if it was, it was only a temporary arrangement, in the end. He might be able to get rid of the animal as soon as tomorrow if it was truly intolerable.

Tentatively, Shen Jiu reached out to pick up the dog…

And felt tiny teeth close around his fingers.

Jerking his hand backwards, Shen Jiu sneered down at the animal. “What, you ungrateful little beast!”

Shen Yuan finally stopped cooing at his own pup to look over and said, “Maybe he doesn’t like your cologne?”

“And what’s wrong with my cologne?” Shen Jiu snapped, voice raising.

Stepping back, “Nothing, nothing!”

“It was a gift, you know!”

Shen Yuan barely avoided tripping over a haphazard stack of game cases as he kept moving away. “P-perhaps it’s just too strong for a dog’s nose, that’s all!”

This time Shen Jiu moved quickly, snatching up the dog by its middle before it could get its ridiculously tiny muzzle around anything, and he stared directly into the animal’s eyes.

“Do that again, and I’ll put you back out in the cold where I found you. Understood?”

The dog stared back at him, placid and indifferent… until its tongue darted out and licked the end of his nose.

“...good enough.”

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It was a few days before the two of them crossed paths again.

It’d seem they both had decided to keep their newfound pets and they were both out that day to take the dogs for walks.

The air in the park was warm, so they sat themselves on a bench to enjoy it for a bit longer and soak up some of the sunlight that was so rare that time of year. Shen Jiu’s pup sat like a sentry at his feet while Shen Yuan’s pup curled up on his lap the moment he sat down.

It was through the ensuing conversation they realized they both gave their dog the same name by sheer coincidence.

One was too lazy and the other was too stubborn, so neither changed it. At least they’d bought different-colored collars. But this brought to light a new revelation, and Shen Yuan just had to ask…

“How did you come up with it?”

“It was just the first thing to come to mind,” Shen Jiu had explained, “from something I’ve been reading, probably.”

"Wait, you read that too!?"

As he suspected! That name was from one of the top-rated web novels that year, from its stallion protagonist: Luo Binghe!

Shen Yuan couldn’t imagine someone as outwardly prim as Shen Jiu reading trashy webnovels, but it turned out to be true. It was just a quick, easy way for him to kill a few minutes of downtime at work, Shen Jiu reasoned in his defense.

Whenever they met up from that point forward, Shen Yuan talked his ear off about his various grievances with Proud Immortal Demon Way.

‘Villains that dig their own graves but don’t bother finishing! Women that lead the protagonist on a three-chapter long subplot just to get to their lewd scenes, only to never see them again! And every single character lost all of their intelligence when the protagonist came around!’

And yet he had nothing but praise for said protagonist… almost excessive praise.

Shen Jiu is annoyed at first but he starts enjoying the company. Which is good because the dog turns out to be a menace.

Well, both dogs could be counted as menaces, just in different ways.

Bing-mei (as they come to call him) would start whining so pitifully when Shen Yuan shut the door between them, thus he often just gave up and took the dog with him whenever it was feasible.

Bing-ge, on the other hand, broke his toys within days, climbed around on furniture he wasn’t allowed on--sometimes when Shen Jiu was looking right at him, too--he barked, he scratched furniture, he tore up pillows.

Despite all the trouble he was causing for his master, Shen Jiu would no longer entertain the idea of giving him up. Not after Bing-ge tore up three separate muggers on three separate occasions and growled at the person who kept taking his parking space until it never happened again.

But the biggest takeaway from their conversations, for Shen Jiu, wasn’t webnovels or dogs. It made him start to realize how lonely he'd been.

The only other person he really spoke to was halfway around the world for their work and they only spoke a couple of times a month. Now that Shen Yuan was around, Shen Jiu actually started to have things to look forward to besides the monotony of work--knocks on the door, long walks with the dogs, the occasional cup of tea afterward on colder days...

Shen Jiu was never the sort to be up-front with his feelings, so he found a way to show his gratitude by helping Shen Yuan with his confidence issues. He started encouraging him to go out more, and to put a little more effort into his looks when he did. This morphed into helping clean up his squalid apartment since Shen Jiu could barely stand to look at it when he came over.

Months later, Shen Jiu’s recommendation had helped Shen Yuan to land an entry-level job. That, and a steady habit of going out once a week, gave them something else to do and talk about.

Progress was slow, but visible. Shen Yuan seemed a little less awkward in public with each passing week.

One night they were leaning on Shen Yuan’s balcony. It was a night of celebration, for he’d just earned his very first promotion, and Shen Jiu had brought over wine for the occasion.

He found himself leaning closer to Shen Jiu, telling himself it was just to get a better look at him in the dim light of the city night. His focus wasn’t the best even when he was sober after all. Yet Shen Yuan didn’t stop. And when Shen Jiu turned to look at him in confusion, and their lips met, he didn’t withdraw for several seconds.

Neither did Shen Jiu.

Shen Yuan tried to flee as soon as he realized what he’d done only for Shen Jiu to pull him back saying:

"Don't run, take responsibility. We talked about this."

#svsss #svsss fic #mxtx #modern au #bingpup #shen jiu #shen yuan #jiuyuan

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batfamscreaming · 4 years

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Dick’s first day of school snuck up on them.

Bruce drove him down in a rusty small blue honda civic from the 1990s. They’d picked it up off the lot for under 3,000 and were using it as a way to ferry themselves to the junkyard to pick up parts for their special car--but for now, they were using it to drop Dick off at school.

Drop Richard Malone off at school.

On paper, Alfred paid for Dick to attend Gotham academy. A private school. It had both boarders and day students. Dick would be a day student, so long as it was feasible.

...on the first day of school, Bruce drove Dick down to his alma mater (which translated to ‘place you never wanted to visit again,’) and dropped him off outside the gates.

“Want me to walk you in, Chum?” he asked, despite it not being any Malone’s alma mater yet, and Dick glanced back at him and shook his head sharply, mumbling a quiet “see you later,” before going off towards the gates.

Bruce turned to drive home and realized, belatedly, that Dick had never not been homeschooled.

He waited for afternoon to pick Dick up again, and resolved to remember to pick up milkshakes on the way back, so he can ask how the day was with a backup plan.

“It is not the right time of year to prune,” Alfred told him. It was far too close to school starting. Far too close to fall. “But, I suppose, it isn’t impossible . It will just be a good bit trickier to know which branches need it.”

Bruce obligingly bought a new plant from a chain store--a nursery would’ve properly pruned it weeks ago, but chain stores didn’t have that same attention. Alfred brought it home in a little green planter: a tiny bush cut into a lopsided circle.

“This isn’t, in fact, how to do it,” Alfred said, setting it beside Bruce on the patio table. “Can you tell me why?”

“..it doesn’t target the dead branches,” Bruce said, and Alfred gave a nod.

“It’s indiscriminate. And quite sloppy.”

He handed Bruce a pair of pruning shears.

“With it cut like this, it’s a little difficult to find the dead branches, but you’ll manage.”

...after a moment, Bruce shoved his hand inside the bush and just… gripped one of the little branches that didn’t have any leaves on it between his fingers. He glanced at Alfred, who nodded obligingly and gave a smile that felt far too much like it was meant for a child.

“How far back do I cut?”

“As far back as you can.”

Bruce nodded and pushed the shears in. And snipped.

The metahuman had power over plants, the paper the day before had said. She argued she’d been acting in self-defense. Her children were crying out for help. And so she helped.

(“‘ I is hearing the scream of a flower as its stem is twisted from the ground,’” Dick read aloud by Bruce’s bedside, trying to work through the recommended reading list for his level. One year behind his age level wasn’t bad for three years on the road, but it was a lot to catch up on all the same. “‘ I is hearing the soft moan of the old oak, like an old man dying, weeping, when it is felled.’ ”)

As the state of New Jersey did not recognize plants as people or her as the property owner, her appeal was denied. She would spend several years above minimum in Belle Reve for aggravated assault.

(even though the one she assaulted wasn’t there. Bruce hadn’t stepped into court. Bruce hadn’t said a thing. There was one phone call, and a woman, naked, trapped outside on a Gotham street, and then five other people stepped forward, claiming to be someone she’d attacked.

And he didn’t know what to think about that. If what everyone said was true was true, or if it was just falling into the fallacy of mob mentality. If it was easier to accept what was said as true. Even if he'd seen the violence first hand, it was him being attacked, that was different--)

He kept his mouth shut, and reached for the next dead branch, and clipped.

“...and how would I trim something that’s not dead, but it might… be overgrown? Or the wrong height?”

“Hmm,” Alfred said, still watching him. “Well, first we will need to get you a proper ladder.”

Justly imprisoned or not, the metahuman--a former botanist called Pamela Isley--would be in Belle Reve for several years.

Maybe he could change something in this town while she was gone.

Therefore, Mr. Malone came to the Gotham Parks and Recreation office, asking if when he got this 501c3 approved that he be allowed to enter Robinson Park and clean up the place.

And the budget-starved Parks office said fuckin’ do it if you’re brave enough, man , and sent him on his way.

It was… much easier than he expected, really. But perhaps the Parks department carried so little influence no one had even bothered to bribe them to keep people out. All the same, he’d listen to that backwards warning.

He drafted the papers in two days. He worked over it at dinner, trying to fill the gap that had once been occupied by discussing with Dick where to travel next and how to best avoid a million impending dooms. He had a free consultation with an attorney in the morning who looked up at Bruce over his glasses, eyebrows up, and reminded Bruce that the park was where mob deals went down and that grassy lady attacked a fella the other day.

Bruce said that was fine. He knew. He wasn’t here to cause a ruckus.

Legal documents. Articles of Affiliation. Mission Statement. It was helpful to have a second pair of eyes that actually expected the little bureaucracies innate in law, things that Dick and Alfred preferred to grumble at rather than knot through. Not that Bruce had been trained in law himself, but his school friend, Harvey Dent--

(was still in the hospital. Burn ward. He’d stabilized, but wasn’t often conscious--)

...Bruce submitted the paperwork after the Parks commission met with him, and then all he had to do was draw up a budget and wait. Alfred ‘lent’ Mr. Malone the startup money to establish a paper trail. After the initial donation, Bruce could make periodic donations to himself in various names; have miraculous windfalls whenever cash grew thin. Even without any backing or campaigns, he could make this startup impossible to fail.

...the problem is, Bruce has long proven his judgement is impaired.

When Dick returns from school not sniffling but vibrating with stress all the same, Bruce’s first thought is to run and start over somewhere else.

He thinks it might be an averted suicide response. The need to pack up and leave the current problems behind. With a hardline against being able to die, his mind latches onto another option. A fight-or-flight response that only hits flight when the problem isn’t something that can’t be physically fought off, like a tween coming into the car and sitting down in the passenger seat with a deep sigh.

...Bruce asks how his day was.

Dick says it was fine.

Bruce doesn’t ask if he wants a milkshake. He goes through the drive-through and buys some anyway. They go home and work how to install tail fins on the car frame slowly coming together in their garage.

...the ‘suicide’ response isn’t the only thing that lingers. Bruce isn’t really sure ‘lingering’ is the right term, actually. The flight response only arises when things can’t be handled directly in front of himself anymore, but the fight response--

Bruce has impaired judgment.

He proved it as soon as his first ‘suicide’ response sent him to the League of Assassins, and he decided to not flee the moment they made it clear nothing would continue until he took a life. He proved it when he wasn’t able to avoid dragging a literal child in the middle of a personal crisis into his mess, rather than leaving him somewhere safe and far, far away from him. He proved it with each near-death experience from Deathstroke in Metropolis to Isley in Gotham.

And yet, here he was again, finding himself cleaning up the Batman suit long after Dick was put to bed, adjusting it with better material to withstand a bullet’s penetration.

The people at the parks department weren’t wrong. It would be dangerous to work the area while the mob still operated widely inside it, and he would not cooperate alongside the mobs for protection. The alternative was therefore relatively obvious: get rid of the mobs.

Mobs weren’t exactly like a snake, but they did function well enough like one. Cut off the head. And like a hydra, if new heads sprouted--smother them.

...that, at least, he knew how to do. Kidnapping and recon, and finding information. Find proof of a mob boss’ wrongdoing and get a prosecutor not so cowardly to be bribed. Hand the information over. Don’t let them fail the charges. High profile dangerous people wouldn’t be kept in a local jail, but would likely be transferred to a higher-security prison, circumnavigating the cluttering, and with a focus on high-priority prisoners rather than most random people out on the street, they would be moved through the system more quickly, hopefully at least stalling out their operations in the meantime, if not shattering the whole system beneath them with the sudden departure.

This was the best plan he had, and it relied far, far too much on too many external variables--finding a clean court, getting a jury that felt safe enough to actually put their foot down, finding witnesses willing to testify, a prosecutor who wouldn't be bribed--

(fuck)

--and dealing with a Commissioner whose good graces he might’ve worn out.

…

But the alternatives were to allow this to continue growing, complicit by his own inaction.

(he was already complicit enough in too many crimes.)

(How did you clean up a world that you yourself aided in the destruction of?)

Prosecutors that couldn't be bribed?

They ended up like Harvey Dent.

Batman appears without Robin that evening, because it is a school night and Dick needs to sleep. He stops what crimes in progress he comes across and starts watching Robinson Park more closely.

He doesn't interfere inside it. He just watches. Plants cameras in the bushes and on the branches of trees, and zips his way out, to watch the footage and get to know the day and nighttime patterns of the area.

It… will take time. That's something he's not used to. Dick and he worked fast on the road, and even before that he was either handed his information by the ones lower down the chain or only spent a handful of days doing legwork to verify things that'd been missed. Instant gratification, he guessed he could call it. Just… dealing out a death and being done with it.

(And somehow, he'd drawn the line at known violent mobsters and Deathstroke.)

...he had to do a lot of meditation to get through the park video feeds. He had a lot of work stacking up between tracking down faces from the feeds. Police database of mugshots helped more than he expected. He started a tally of how many people in the mugshots were brought in bloodied and who brought them in to look into later.

After all, if Gotham was going to get rid of its mob problem, the police force would need some pruning, too.

Gotham recidivism was above 80%. Bruce gargled his coffee and tried very hard to not spit it out somewhere, because somehow, he was more tired by this statistic than shocked. A bit of, ‘oh, I knew it would be high, but really?’

No fucking wonder there weren’t enough cells in the world.

(What do you do when you can’t put anymore garbage in a landfill?

Learning what a fucking recycling program is might be a good first step.)

It's okay, though. He's totally got a handle on this. He's already been looking into what makes recidivism lower, and the difficulty of access to jobs for felons seems like a big one. Lack of change to living situations that caused pettier crimes like reselling material or shoplifting. The inside prison situation has an effect, according to Norway, which has a prison system Bruce isn't even hoping to replicate, even if he were a living millionaire with a clear conscience.

Reading other people's’ writings on recidivism has… definitely helped clarify things for him, even if all he can think of for the worst of criminals is still to lock them in a cell far away from everyone or until the death penalty finally takes it out of his hands.

But it is one thing to lock up a murderer who sabotaged a family performance and killed in front of an audience, and children, and child … versus locking up the child who killed trying to protect their family from an abusive partner.

They’re different. They have to be.

If Bruce has any right to be alive, he has to be able to believe in gray areas.

Bruce drops the first of several Maroni forerunners on Gordon's desk in the northern precinct. When he finds the precinct desk vacant, he pays a visit to the commissioner’s house instead.

The thought process is that it would probably be best to clarify that the dropoff isn’t an attack on the commissioner's authority. It’s an opening for compromise. Bruce will be mindful of the incarceration rates, but he won’t be leaving Gotham and he’d like cooperation from the police when it came to prosecution.

Unfortunately, he proposes it in the form of a paper note (written in his off-hand) slipped onto Gordon’s bedroom table where the man will notice it as soon as he returns for bed, which is much more threatening than he fully realizes.

(He doesn’t imagine Gordon’s daughter will find the note first and replace it just as she found it after reading. Then again, he doesn’t ever find out it happened, either.)

The county’s defense office wants to cut a plea deal with the gangster brought in, because no one wants to be the next Harvey Dent. The Assistant DA, a woman named Rachel Dawes, seems willing to try, but the department is extremely reluctant to support her, even as she steps up to take Dent’s place until another election can be held.

In the precinct, Bruce’s audiobugs catch officers he’s tracking placing bets on how long until someone finishes Dent off in his hospital bed.

Bruce decides he needs to be more aggressive.

Twenty-seven aggressive anonymous tipoffs and two synchronized FBI raids half a month later, and Bruce is startled when the door to his bedroom opens and Dick walks in. Bruce doesn't really jump in surprise anymore-- it’s more of… half reaching a position to fight, and stopping in a split second as he realizes the threat doesn't exist.

“Ah,” he says, “do you need--?”

“I was at school,” Dick says, answering the question in an odd way. He didn't need anything, he'd just come back from school--

Bruce’s neck snaps up to look at the clock, while the other part of his brain realizes that it’s nearly dark outside.

“Did Alfred--” he says, a panicky shame he’s not used to rising up within him.

“No,” Dick says, shrugging his backpack off and slumping onto bed. “When I realized you weren't coming I walked home.”

Bruce's throat feels tight. “You should've called.”

“Figured you were busy,” Dick says, watching the ceiling, “you've got more important stuff than school.”

Bruce remembers, the pain less raw with years, the slow agony of a school day, knowing there must be more he could do than sit through the farce.

He remembers that agony of adolescent uselessness clearly, pain dulled or not, but he’s also wisened to its falsehood over the years. There was little he could manage at the time.

“...I’ll set an alarm next time, but school isn't unimportant,” he says, keeping calm and controlled for an extra moment, before doing a double-take on the thought he’d had just a moment before.

Adolescence?!

School is over a month in. Dick’s anniversary is coming up soon. Bruce has gotten the Feds back in Gotham and an internal investigation into the police force for corruption. His nonprofit is finalizing some paperwork and looking into how to hire nonviolent offenders and start training them for small-time landscaping and cleanup by contracting with a local pre-established landscape crew that mostly does the outer and northern Gotham estates. Harvey Dent is conscious but minimally verbal in the hospital. And Dick is thirteen, officially a teenager.

Bruce does not know how teenagers are different from younger children. He does not recall being any different than he is now at either age. Only morose haze interspersed by flashes of overwhelming tension and temper.

Harvey once knew him at that age. Not that Bruce could talk to Harvey--not… as himself. The man Harvey knew was long, long dead, (or, it would be simpler if that man was dead, and Bruce as he was now was a new man entirely--) and it’s not as though Bruce could ask advice anyway.

Still. Maybe he will send Harvey some flowers they’ve started in the backyard...

Once the Justice League gets out of his living room.

Aside from Superman calling over the phone whenever he seems to please, once a month Martian Manhunter seems to show up, posing as just another social worker or lawyer or family friend, here to check in on how things are going with adoption, or the 501C3, or the… latest cookies out of the oven.

And if it’s not Martian Manhunter helping Dick sneak cookies off the cooling rack, then it’s Wonder Woman, which is somehow even worse.

There are not a lot of situations when Bruce would rather a mind reader with incredible telekinetic powers who could mentally and emotionally cripple him with a thought be in his presence, versus just a very strong lady who could rip him in two by breathing.

Diana Prince has made that situation a monthly occurrence.

She came this time while they were in the garage, putting together a much-overdue car engine. Alfred had insisted on dinner before business. Diana Prince stands in his house for over an hour by the time the rope finally came out and they got down to business. It is an hour too long. Bruce doesn’t think he’s had more than a few words of conversation with her since they moved into Alfred’s townhouse late summer, but he has heard the same questions out of her mouth far too many times.

“Have you been hurt lately?”

“No,” Dick says, because he only patrols on weekends, and Bruce makes sure he’s kept well away from anything that looks like it will have guns.

“Are you being treated well?”

“Yes.”

“Are you happy?”

“Y…”

...Bruce blinks for a second, before he realizes that Dick’s teeth are clenched tight and his face is turning faintly to another color.

“Dick…?” Diana says, before Dick gives into the rope, and says the truth.

“No.”

He’s not sure if anyone else can hear the air leave the room, but it does, and Bruce feels his lungs collapse in the vacuum left behind. His stomach shrivels into a ball.

He wants to run from the room, but his feet are too heavy and slow to move, so he just crosses his arms even tighter, and digs his fingers into his ribs.

“...why is that?” Diana asks. She doesn’t even glance back at Bruce when she does it. She doesn’t even glance away in the first place, even as Dick is screwing his eyes shut. The color his face has settled on is red, and blotchy, and fast.

Dick drops the rope from his hand and hiccups.

Bruce can’t move to comfort him.

...Diana looks between Dick, and the dropped rope, and pulls it back into the lasso loop. She stands.

“...I’m going to head outside for a bit and give you two some privacy.”

She turns and walks out to the garden, where Alfred is still watering the flowers.

Dick hiccups again, and Bruce is a stranger in his own body as he sits on the floor cross legged, and pulls Dick into his arms.

...he’s a lot bigger than he was when he was eight and curled into Bruce’s side, just minutes after his parents fell. Bruce puts his hand on the kid’s head, fingers running through the cropped dark hair.

“...Dick?” Bruce says. “Dick?”

He doesn’t get a response. He sits there, uncomfortably rubbing Dick’s hair, until Diana returns some long minutes later, announcing it’s about time she headed out.

“I’ll see you next month,” she says, mostly to Dick, who still hasn’t looked up.

Even as Bruce wonders if it’s a threat, something in his chest loosens when Diana leaves and Dick stays behind.

Eventually, they get up, and try to get ready for bed.

—

Harvey Dent wakes up again.

The last thing he remembers is a gun being pulled on him; a court case that he had to win, no matter what—

The nurses are alerted to his consciousness by the sound of his screaming.

Bruce Malone has no reason to visit him. No clearance. No nothing. All he does is run a small nonprofit startup, currently sending out applications to the very criminals Harvey put behind bars.

He doubts Batman would be welcome.

—

Gotham elects temp-head Rachel Dawes to permanent DA to finish out Harvey’s term by seventeen votes. Bruce doesn’t rig the election, though he thinks of doing so. Instead, he spends the week beforehand trying to disrupt the bribery network connecting the ballot counters to the remaining mob and asking Robin to go make sure the paperless polls aren’t hacked the night before.

...Robin isn’t happy with Bruce going out on his own still. But they compromise, some.

They send Harvey flowers.

They leave a note on Dawes’ desk. An offer, if she needs anything. They don’t want her to end up like her predecessor.

—

In the morning, at the first hint of workable weather, Bruce has some on-parole inmates and recent-releases standing in the middle of the park, shivering, holding shovels and rakes.

This is the first day they’ll be working together and training on the job. There will be a stipend associated with the work. Tools are provided. There’s just—they haven’t done this before. And neither has Bruce Malone, who failed to shake off his kid, Richard, who is sitting off on a picnic table not far away, arms wrapped around his snow pants and pouting furiously.

...He stays quiet as Bruce starts showing the group what they’re supposed to be doing— first snipping the large bushes down to size, raking the sticks and leaves into piles, and then coming up the back with shovels to help define areas for mulch beds around the bushes. Generally they would not be pruning this early into fall, but… the bushes have to go.

It’s step one (ignoring Bruce’s personal twenty-step plan midway through execution) to help keep the park safe and free-er of illegal activities: just being able to see into the damn park.

Once they actually start working, Richard gets up from his perch and glumly takes a rake, helping follow along and pulling the old foliage and branches into a set of neat piles a couple feet out of the way.

It would be one thing if Dick seemed to be having fun, but… he doesn’t really. He’s tolerant enough with the car (whose construction has largely stalled) but he’s never really had the kind of brain like Bruce’s which likes the simple, repetitive patterns of gardening, or kata, or math.

(“I don’t want to stay home,” Dick had said that morning.

“Then wouldn’t going out with a friend be better?” Bruce said over breakfast.

“I don’t have any friends!”

Bruce did not respond to that, and had escorted Dick to the park.)

...they pack up in the later afternoon, when the sun is still high but before banks close-- Bruce gathering up all the direct deposit information for the ones who sound interested in coming back, and paying the rest with checks. Dick waits in the car.

When they drive back home, something big, and blue, and midwestern is already in their kitchen, and is talking to Alfred about pie crust technique.

( Hell. )

Superman is wearing his full goddamn uniform as they enter. He turns and smiles when they come into the living room, raising up one big hand to greet them.

“Hey there! Decided I’d stop by.”

“....You did,” Bruce agrees, while Dick seems to perk up, eyes widening at the very large and blue man leaning on the counter.

Dick had met Superman already. Spent a week at least on the same spaceship as him. Stared him down over Bruce’s unconscious body. Somehow, it wasn’t stopping him from having that bright excitement in his eyes, now.

Maybe Superman was more exciting when he presumably wasn’t here to arrest anyone.

Presumably.

“Uh-huh,” said Superman. “And Mr. Pennyworth was telling me some about how things have been going for you here! Community service work. Sounds good.”

Sounded innocent was more like it. Sounded like prisoners in bright orange vests on the roadsides picking up litter for fifty cents an hour. Doing time, paying back society for all he’d done to it— yeah, he figured it would sound good to Superman.

“It is,” said Bruce.

Dick, maybe in a better mood now that they were out of the Gotham smog, saves him again.

“Are you here for dinner?” Dick asked, not quite on his tiptoes—not on his tiptoes at all, actually.

He’d grown again, Bruce realized. Now he stood almost to Bruce’s ribs, where once he’d had to stretch to reach.

“No, I didn’t think I’d be that welcome,” Superman said, smiling sheepishly, and good. At least he knew. “I’m just the messenger this time. Because we are going to have to start cashing in on that deal we made.”

For a moment, Bruce’s heart stills, and he feels Dick tense just a little bit beside him.

(Is it wrong, for a moment, that he’s still glad that Dick tenses when they both know it won’t be him attacked?)

“Woah, woah, no scary faces—“ Bruce’s face had not changed. “We just need your input. Information sharing, remember? Flash has had some weird things going on in his neighborhood and we thought maybe it’d be something you’d recognize.”

...Right.

Right.

He was getting protection from This League in exchange for cooperation, not just his dignity.

Before he could pull himself back into his body, Superman added, “and Robin too, of course.”

“Robin doesn’t need to—“ Bruce began.

“—Robin would be delighted ,” Dick said, raising his voice unnecessarily high and drowning out Bruce’s own.

Bruce looked down at Dick, mouth flat. Dick stared back up at him, scowling and arms crossed.

“You hate busywork,” said Bruce.

“It’ll be fine!” Said Superman, suddenly in his face , arms moving between him and Dick, pushing them apart, like they were dangerous to each other— “Flash was just going to bring his kid, uh, flash along with him, and thought it would be good for them to meet. Should’ve led with that. Just, giving kids friends in their own age bracket.”

Bruce had stood rock still, staring at the same spot Dick had been, now blocked by Superman’s arms. He did not look away.

“Yes,” Bruce said. “You should’ve led with that.”

—

...the next evening, his attempts at trimming his hair were interrupted by Alfred, who was quick to steal the scissors away and finish things himself. Soon, it was short enough he could slick it back for the first time in… a while. He pulled on one of his better dark turtlenecks. Business slacks. Dark shoes. Dark. Maybe too obviously a hide-away-in-the-background type dark.

They met Flash… on the other side of a zeta beam. Bruce hadn’t ridden one since first being escorted from the Watchtower to Gotham.

He hadn’t forgotten how uncomfortable it was, but it was one thing to remember in the mind and another to be given a reminder in the body.

Neither he nor Dick were in costume. There was no reason for Batman and Robin to suddenly be in Central. There would hopefully be no reason for anyone to suspect Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson to travel so far away from their little safe haven and attack.

Flash, however, did have some things to protect still, and so he waited on the other side of the zeta with his bright red costume made darker in the night, and an unfortunately bright smudge of yellow standing beside him.

“Hey, Bats,” Flash said, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you nicely this time.”

Bruce was really glad he hadn’t given in to breaking this guy’s legs. That would have made this reintroduction unbearably uncomfortable. As it was, he met the hand slowly, and enough of a sound for acknowledgement.

Flash didn’t say anything about it, turning instead to Dick. “And you! Also glad to see you’re doing fine; hooow’s the ankle. This is my sidekick, Kid Flash.”

There was no time to answer to the ankle before Flash had introduced and thumped the yellow teen him on the back, getting the very encouraging response, “I’m not a kid I’m a teenager, ” which was too obvious to have needed pointing out, considering the cracks in his voice and the speckles acne surrounding his lips. “Don’t embarrass me!”

“I would never do that.”

(While Bruce remained cold in his skin despite the warm night, beside him, Dick let out a little bit of a laugh. Almost a few huffs of one, really. It was softening. It was enough to unfreeze Bruce some and get him going again.)

“You needed help with identification?” said Bruce, stepping forward to end the introductions.

Flash’s expression changed back to serious in a… flash. At least he didn’t look disappointed. Or surprised. “Yeah. Follow me, there’s a place a little more private down the street.”

That place ended up being a deli bakery. One that had very much closed for the evening, and had shuttered its windows for good measure. This made very little difference to Flash, who pulled out a key from a very discreet pocket, and opened the staff door in the back.

“They donate the day-old stuff to me,” Flash said, grinning, like that explained much at all. “Why don’t you kids go see if there’s anything set on top of the counters in the back?”

The little yellow flash made a sound that wasn’t quite a whoop, but wasn’t quite quiet, either.

And then the little hand reached out, grabbed Robin’s wrist, and pulled him through the door behind the counter.

“Woah, easy, chief.”

Flash’s hand wasn’t touching Bruce, no, but it was in front of him, ready to block and restrain in a movement as Bruce took a step forward to follow.

He turned to look at Flash, and met his same hard eyes looking back through Flash’s mask.

“They’re just gonna look around and see if they can find some food. It’s fine.”

Bruce knew that was just what they were doing, of course. He just wanted to— check. Just to make sure. It was a closed up shop of people they didn’t know in a city that was too dark and empty at night, save for a few well-maintained streetlamps and a pair of teenage girls walking down the sidewalk to the seven-eleven, sticking close together in the Midwest fall—-

“Let’s just get a seat and wait for them, and we can get started. How’s that?”

Flash had removed his hand, and was gesturing now to one of the booth seats near the bar. Not by the windows. Maybe far enough from the windows that anyone who looked in and saw a book light on would just assume management was doing the books late.

(Bruce’s jaw was not tight , it was just his teeth kept pressing down together. He sat down across from the seat Flash gestured to. It was better to get through work quickly, and head home.)

“Okay,” said Flash, suddenly in the booth with him. Bruce almost still felt the breeze of the movement as a book-clipped green folder was produced and laid out on the table. “So, this is a case that’s been going on a little while. Take your time and let me know what you think of it.”

The file was pushed over to Bruce’s side of the table, and he took it quietly, removing the clip and flipping it open.

He disregarded the notes and bios and instead turned first to the photos.

...he did not like looking through other people’s photos. All he could think of was that he would have liked a bit closer look at the doorframe, or just a little bit out of angle, or frustration at someone’s focus being a little bit out. That was why you took lots of photos of course, but it was still a gnawing anxiety in him that they were going to just miss something. All he had were his eyes through someone else’s lense and someone else’s word to take for it.

Which he was very bad at liking.

….but that was just what this was, he guessed. The case was from five years prior. A body of an older woman on the floor of an enclosed porch. Broken glass. Gunshot wound to the left shoulder, close enough to the heart she’d probably been dead within a minute or two, long before the first police officers had arrived. A bullet hole in the wall behind her. Fallen out of her chair. Glass window of the porch had shattered. A bullet had been extracted from the wall, looking like a .22– moderately furnished house with plastic sheeting over the couches. Wicker chairs. An expensive security system had captured what were rendered as stills of the moment the bullets entered the cameras view, and a man a minute or so later on the front door at the other side of the house, running inside, presumably to inspect.

There were other things. They seemed comfortably middle to upper-middle class, from the photos, and finally turning to look at the profiles confirmed it. 68. White. Retired with a moderate stipend. Married thirty years. No priors or connections that Bruce might consider linking to any of the people he knew. Just things like public intoxication, driving violations, a few fines—

Her husband was found with her, and owned the same caliber gun that had broken the glass encasement, shot the woman, and knocked her out of her chair before lodging in the wall. He’d run in from across the street to investigate the gunshot, he said. He denied doing the deed, and circumstantial evidence was not enough to make a conviction on—

...Bruce flipped through the folder again, frowning.

Flash, who had pulled out his phone, looked up. “Something?”

“...what is it you want me to say about this?” It was a neatly put together file. Very neatly. No real loose ends, if everything in it was true. What was he supposed to be catching, here?

“Just, I guess, your thoughts. Anything stand out?” He took the moment to arch his back and stretch his arms out a bit, one hand still holding the phone. Smiled a bit. Friendly.

Bruce frowned while looking at Flash this time.

“This is a test,” he stated, “and I doubt just to see if I’d throw out a name just to be ‘useful.’”

Flash blinked innocently at him, but he was still smiling. “I mean, haha, can’t blame us too much…? You found a lot of trafficking chains, but, I mean—“

“The case has already been closed, and you’re certain of who did it,” said Bruce flatly. He flipped the folder shut and shoved it back across the table. “I’d rather see the scene myself, but if the numbers are right, the bullet hole is too steep an angle for a flat lawn if the husband shot from shoulder height. Someone half his height, or someone kneeling or lying in the grass. He’s old enough to have trouble getting up from that position, much less from the edge of the yard, to run around to the front of the house and avoid grass stains from a new cut lawn. There’s not enough other information to know who might’ve had a motive to make it professional or not.”

…

Flash blinked at him, leaning his elbows on the table to watch. He wasn’t smiling or laughing anymore. Good.

“Yeah,” Flash said. Moved the folder off the table, to the booth seat, out of view. “Some kids were playing with their new .22 in the yard across from the house and accidentally shot her through the window. They confessed a few months ago.”

It was a small enough crime that news wouldn’t have made it to Gotham. Or been widely publicized at all, if ‘kids’ meant they were still minors. That would make them thirteen at most at the time of the shooting—

Bruce wasn’t sure if his throat was full of acid or metal as he said, “Is there anything else for me to look over?”

Flash hesitated a moment (an eternity for him, surely) and said, “Well…”

Bruce stood and made a straight fucking line to the door Dick had been pulled in and not yet emerged. Flash called out, “Hey—!”

….even as the hand fell on his shoulder and tried to pull him back, Bruce had frozen in the doorway.

On the other side, he could only see a bit— the doorframe was too narrow and he dared not step closer—but he could see enough.

He’d wondered, a little bit, why Robin hadn’t emerged when he’d begun speaking. Surely he was loud enough to be heard from the back room. They were only meant to be separated minutes. Just a quick mission. Now, he could see, though—

Dick, sitting on an industrial chest freezer, his legs kicking, not near touching the floor.

He was holding a popsicle. One of the fudge ones. Partly eaten and the top of the stick beginning to show, and Robin didn’t see how it was beginning to drip down over the crinkled plastic wrap, and would soon run over his fingers.

He was busy, looking at Kid Fash. Kid Flash squatting on the floor with a creamsicle, holding it up to the color of his suit, and visibly whining with an orange tongue, a pouting face—

And Robin ignored his own melting ice cream to laugh.

...Flash’s hand tugged on his shoulder again, this time gentle enough that Bruce felt it. He turned with the pressure, and headed back for the booth.

He sat down in it, across from Flash and his already-solved case folder.

“...this was not for case files, was it,” Bruce said, staring at the table between them, feeling very stupid and small.

“I mean,” Flash said, looking almost as embarrassed as Bruce was shamed. “...we did want to know. But… we thought maybe my uh, my cousin could use someone who could relate to him.”

Ah yes. For Kid Flash’s sake. For the boy who they’d never seen publicized before, who was complaining about his outfit color as if he hadn’t chosen it, who didn’t know that in Flash’s ‘occasional empty diner hideout’ he was allowed to run off and eat before being told.

Not for the boy that for the past month Diana’s pitying face had hung over, the boy who had eagerly asked to Superman to stay for dinner, and who Martian Manhunter would deliver sleeves of choco cookies to, even though they had more than enough money to purchase a box for themselves.

...perhaps Bruce should be glad Flash wasn’t the best at lying. Perhaps Bruce was too used to looking for tells, and mistook super speed masking for the truth.

“I see,” was all he said.

When he’d been a child, there had been plenty of others who knew death, and who had never moved him an inch for all their crying. He’d done his best to make that untrue for Dick the past few years, and now they knew each other’s grief inside and out.

Bruce did not know what else to do from there.

It was grief all the way down.

“He’ll need to learn how to counter people who might actually know how to fight speedsters,” he said, watching the table. “There’s pads in the basement, if he’d like to improve sparring with Dick sometimes.”

Flash blinked at him again. Flash sat up straighter, grinning. “Oh?”

“Oh,” Bruce agreed, looking up to scowl. “But for fuck’s sake, bring more than one casefile next time.”

—

On Robin’s anniversary, a gang fight breaks out in the Diamond District.

Something gone wrong. A shootout.

Bruce isn’t sure if it could’ve been called a shootout before the police arrive. By the end of the night, the building is on fire, and a gas vein has blown. Heavy smoke drifting down the street causes a panic, and then a stampede—

He doesn’t want to let Robin out tonight.

On the news, it looks like there are fights breaking out in the stampede. There are people lying down, specks of color on the ground as the helicopter news anchor tries to describe the scene. She’s pure professional. Cold eyes. Clear eyes.

The smoke momentarily engulfs the helicopter, and she begins crying.

He does not want to let Robin out tonight.

He will deal with the outrage in the morning.

—

(On Robin’s anniversary, Harvey Dent sees the fires and hears gunshots from his hospital room. He drags himself and his IV stand away from the bed, towards the window, and fumbles with the latch with ineffective hands. The nurses come with the heart monitor alert. When they sedate him, Harvey is still screaming “Burn it down, burn it down.” )

—

...as often as it happens, Bruce doesn’t think Gotham knows how to deal with tragedy. Wasn’t it common by now? Weren’t they used to it? But as much as the flags should’ve flown half mast and statues been erected, the world stood still— the next morning, school busses take the children to school, and their parents march out to work.

Bruce has a distinct face, but with enough makeup and a red wig, he can seem to be a different person for a while. He can dress himself up as officer and with enough confidence and disdain walk right passed the caution tape and into the crime scene the next morning.

Is it still accurate to call several city blocks a crime scene? Is it a crime scene at all?

There’s caution tape around it. He knows what the words mean in his head. A shape, more than a real definition, with real letters attached— a block of space that has crumbled differently from the world around him. A depression of buildings, some with more tarps laid down than others.

Most of the bodies have been taken to the morgue by now. Not all of them. But most.

Is he going to sneak into the morgue tonight? Is he going to cut open an innocent person who gave no consent to him? To do more than what their family may have agreed to? Will he just steal the coroner’s report and assume they did their jobs properly?

….it is Gotham. He will assume nothing until proven otherwise. Even now it feels like the police are more rattled than usual, like something has actually gone and bitten them and made them pay a bit more attention.

Inside the building where the shootout started, he starts to look for the bullet holes and take pictures. He looks for scorch marks to track towards the origins of the blaze.

He doesn’t find a blown gas vein, no matter how hard he looks.

There was a difference between a storage building and a warehouse. This was a storage building. It had perhaps had a secretary and some organizers. Someone in charge of keeping track of records. There had been unused parts of the building. Bare rooms without much beyond stripped light switches and unpainted walls. One or two empty office spaces, for meetings perhaps. For presentations.

It was on the second floor where he found the lab. What appeared to be the remains of a lab, in any case. It had been shot up through the floors, and the papers had burnt up in the fire. Police hadn’t officially come up this high yet. The stairs didn’t seem stable. Bruce had not specifically used the stairs. As long as no one saw him slip back down, it would be fine.

It seemed as if the lab had not been in use at the time of the shootout. Fortunate. The beakers were broken, but they were all clustered together near the sink, clean, and so presumably had all been put away after any use. There was nothing sitting out that seemed to have been mid-use. He would’ve believed a Bunsen burner might’ve started part of the fire, but there was none of that, either.

...there was one thing. A broken tankard in the corner that had caused most of the damage, to be certain. A high caliber round seemed to have punctured it, either from the floor below or fired from the hall outside. Otherwise, there would’ve been another body up here, or at least the remnants of one. But the sudden decompression seemed to have mostly left just… a badly scattered room and shrapnel damage on the opposing wall.

He was about to move to the next room when he noticed the faint texture inside the tank and a matching sort of stain on the ceiling above.

...he moved closer to the tank, holding his breath and not daring to hope (should he be hoping for something?) and investigated.

A thin layer of green-ish white powder layered the insides of the tankard. An explosive cloud of the stuff must have also flown towards the ceiling and stained it during decompression. He’d assumed it was an oxygen tank. Assumed wrong.

Taking out a few q-tips, he picked up a few wipes and sealed them away in an evidence bag, did another once-over of the room, now trying to double check everything and ignore his ‘assumptions’, but the burnt papers remained largely illegible, and the cleaned lab materials yielded nothing new.

He moved on to the next room, and slipped out quietly from there to check the rest of the street.

—

He arrived back home in different clothes just about the time that Dick (picked up by Alfred) returned home from school.

The kid looks at Bruce as Bruce enters the front room, and a silent but perceptible drone passes between them.

For a moment, Bruce simply looked back, wondering what it was he was supposed to say here.

Eventually, he fumbles in his pockets and pulled out dust-covered q-tips. They’d done this lots of times on the road, hadn’t they? And it had been fun, then. “Want to help identify oddly colored dust?”

Dick lets his head drop back with an open-mouthed groan at the ceiling, but he does come to the garage lab without… any other response than that sound and movement.

...Bruce was not sure what that meant.

—

Who the fuck was rigging exploding nitrous oxide cans to deliver green-dyed powdered LSD?

—

Monday, at the park, he tells the ones who show up they can stay and work in the park as they’ve been doing the last two weeks, or they can come with him to help clean up the areas damaged by the fire.

Most of them, eight out of the ten, peel off to go help with the fire damage. He can’t say he expected that. But they wander out of the park, keeping together in a group, and spend the day with magnet sticks picking up nails and crooked metal and stacking bricks up out of the walkway. They hose down the ashes to stop dust and at Bruce’s insistence, scoop the ashes into garbage bags instead of just washing it all into the sewer.

It gets him some weird looks, but no one is ready to argue with him after only working for two weeks, because these are the ones who stayed for that daily stipend-- there’s not a contract here; these ten are the ones who hate this work less than anything else they might’ve had available, so they break out two flat shovels and bag things up, wearing cotton masks to avoid inhalation. Bruce trots back to the park to get the truck and pick up all those bags for disposal.

He’s prepared for the ones they left behind to have skipped out early, unsupervised, but as he rounds the (now lower) hedges to look at their base of operations he finds… they actually have acquired an extra person.

No, the shovels aren’t moving and the hedges don’t look that different from what they’d been like this morning, but that’s still not abandoning a position. And instead they have some soda cans from the nearby vending machine, and are leaning on a termite-eaten picnic table, talking with rapt interest to Dick Grayson.

Bruce paused to take it in a second time. Dick certainly clocked him coming into view even though the kid didn’t turn to look his direction. Dick was still there, though, sitting on the other side of the picnic table with a fizzy orange juice and his legs crossed under himself. It wasn’t Bruce’s day to pick him up, Bruce was certain, and yet he had a moment where he had to think of it again to make sure, and checked his phone, and his pocket schedule. But his instinct was right, and it was indeed Alfred’s day to pick Dick up from school while Bruce worked here in the park--

He started to walk over just as Dick turned and raised a hand in greeting, letting the recruits cue into his presence before he was close enough to startle them. And yet, they were still startled enough to look at their shovels and very obviously say “shit,” even when Bruce was still too far away to actually hear it. Then, one seemed to realize they had cursed in front of a tween, said “shit” again, and smacked themselves on the forehead.

Dick’s nose wrinkled up as he smiled. Bruce couldn’t hear it, but he knew it was a laughter snort.

(He did not acknowledge his jaw untensing as he walked up to Dick who was smiling and sociable again.)

He came over intending to smile and say words and have a nice conversation, and… then he was close enough and realized he didn’t know what to say. Did he tell them not to corrupt Dick? Would they take that as him implying they were poisonous to others? Would Dick take that as him being protective and spoil the mild good mood? If he told them to take the rest of the day off since clearly things weren’t going to happen, was that dismissal? Or was that chasing them off? Would it be a threat to their paycheck, even though he intended to pay the day’s wages fair as always?

Things seemed to be going almost well lately. The park was slowly being cleaned and Dick was in better spirits than he’d been for two days since the anniversary--

“Oh, he stalled out, don’t worry about it.”

It is not embarrassment, but Bruce does snap out of his train of thought and back into the present. “Sorry,” he says, and looks to the two grown men in their baggy jackets and laced up work boots and secondhand hats. “We’re just finishing cleaning up some of the ash. If you come help move the last bit, we’ll all call it a day.”

As they got up and started shuffling away from the picnic table, Bruce did glance at Dick, and after a moment of still confusion, say, “Coming?”

...the expression Dick gives him was not a smile. But he did come.

They throw the garbage bags in the back of the trunk, and pack it largely to the brim. Surreptitiously, before Dick can climb into the passenger seat, Bruce digs out a simple dust mask and hands it to him. With barely a second look, Dick puts it on and rolls down the window before settling in. It’s smooth, and no one asks questions or looks much askance, because he and Dick are good by now at not announcing something is happening that is different than normal to the world at large.

(And Dick has become very good at seeing through that with Bruce, but Bruce is… starting to wonder if perhaps, he has taught Dick too well to hide anything that would draw attention that something was wrong. Like a wounded animal could run on a broken leg, or a predator bleed from the mouth, and neither would ever make a peep.)

They drove the bags of ashes home to hide behind the house’s perimeter walls, and Bruce tried to explain. The dust, and the huge plume of heat and smoke that could’ve blown even heavy particles down the street, and the sort of cues that psychedelics took from the state you were in. How most people probably wouldn’t exactly get a good trip, surrounded by gunfire and smoke. And maybe there was something else he missed, in the ash, unsafe for casual disposal, how he wasn’t certain he hadn’t missed something--

Dick laid his head back on the car seat, sighing through his mask, and Bruce stopped his mumbling.

Glanced over.

“...maybe I can… arrange for Flash to take a look, if you want to come along,” he offered as they pulled onto their street.

Dick sat up a little straighter, a little light in his eyes.

...he wondered, maybe unkindly (but mostly tiredly), if Dick would rather move in with the Flash and his sidekick. He didn’t have any real evidence for this. Kids did tend to be fairly excited to see friends around their own age, and just because someone might enjoy a trip to a festival didn’t mean they wanted to live in one.

...yet, Dick probably would’ve been quite happy, adopted into a renaissance fair circuit.

Maybe it wasn’t that Dick needed more friends. Maybe the issue was Bruce.

But it’s too late to change that now, isn’t it? Dick drew his line in the sand in front of the Justice League, and Bruce had given him too many secrets to have to keep, and there was nowhere else to go.

—

Bruce goes to Gotham Academy early. Very early. Two hours before pickup is meant to be.

Dick has gotten into a fight.

The parents of the other kid are already there when Bruce arrives and is shown to the principal’s office (it is in the same place it has been since Bruce went here) and ushered inside to the sound of anger and snapping threats.

The office is wood, with a centered carpet and a large mahogany desk at the center, and surrounded by three adults and two children, one of them his.

Dick doesn’t have a scratch on him, unless you count a faint bruise starting to show on his knuckles. The other boy, who is bigger and taller in every way, has a tissue up to his nose and an ice pack on his ear, and is simultaneously shielded and towered over by his two parents, neither of whom have stopped arguing with the principal since Bruce arrived.

He barely gets a chance to get to Dick’s chair by the wall when he is also pulled into the argument by a “Is this little heathen yours, Mister Malone?” from the mother.

Things are not going to improve from there, he’s pretty sure.

“What’s going on?” he asks the principal instead, who is a balding white man with age spots on his face and horn-rimmed glasses on his nose.

“ Master Richard here has assaulted Master Reynolds--” the principal begins.

“--and we will be pressing charges if adequate disciplinary action is not taken,” says the father.

“But what actually happened,” Bruce says, and somehow the noise gets louder in the room. Not the physical noise of three or four people talking at once, but also the hot dissent from Dick in his corner, the hidden bloodied fear of the boy he attacked, the principal patting the desk with his hands over and over, trying to call attention back to himself. Fluorescent lights bright as static. Itchy polyester fake turkish carpets even though his shoes. The room is small and red-orange with wood stained to look like cherry, yellow copper accents on the studs of cushions and trophies and the frames of portraits and certificates hung on the clustered walls--

Dick is suspended three weeks.

Dick is curled in the front seat of the car, furious that Bruce didn’t defend him enough and fight back, and get his sentence reduced or vetoed entirely. His body is balled up tight enough he’s no bigger than he was at eight, curled around the seatbelt in a haze of fury.

“He was picking on people ,” Dick says in a way Bruce knows means Dick had seen it before, but this time it had crossed a line. “ He should be suspended.”

‘He’ is getting two stitches and a formal apology written (ostensibly) by Dick. Dick will not be the one writing it, even if it’s his name at the bottom. ‘He’ will be in school, not in trouble for bullying but now with free reign to his targets without Dick to stand in the way. If Dick was even in the way before at all. If being in the way without being physical meant anything in this case.

“You’ll just have to be more subtle about it,” Bruce says, trying to be encouraging. Because Dick didn’t do anything wrong to step in. Maybe it didn’t deserve a bloody nose, maybe it could’ve been handled some other way, but he still hasn’t been able to wrangle the exact story out of anyone but he is certain that--

Dick goes “RRR” and kicks the windshield hard enough that Bruce startles and slams on the breaks.

Their seatbelts jerk tight and a car horn behind them blares.

...there is the faintest tap on their bumper, but Bruce is already speeding the car forward again, heart pounding too hard to stop.

There’s not even a scratch when they get out at their house later.

He goes to Dick’s bedside in the evening. Dick’s lying on top of his covers with the lights turned off in a darkening room, staring at the wall opposite the door. There was music playing before, but the CD player turned off as soon as Bruce turned the door handle.

He sits by Dick’s bedside and asks if he’d like to go out for the evening.

Dick agrees, but there isn’t much laughter that night, except the sort Robin scares people with.

The mood is still there the next morning.

It is Superman’s turn to check in. Apparently.

The visit is unscheduled (and probably because of Dick’s suspension) and today involves casserole, which Bruce is primed automatically to dislike.

"Yes?" Bruce says upon seeing big blue and buoyant in their kitchen, hovering over the kitchen island with a glass dish covered in aluminium and Alfred looking over a handwritten paper beside him.

"Oh, hey, good morning there," Superman says, as if he's surprised to see Bruce here when there was no other person for him to be there to see . "I was just dropping off the casserole recipe Alfred wanted to try."

…one of the only people for him to be here to see. But Bruce still doubted a casserole was a real reason for a whole visit. So Bruce tries again. "Did you need something?"

Alfred looks up from the paper with a frown and without a word starts shooing them out of the cooking space if they're going to be talking business. "I dunno. Was there something you needed to talk about?"

They make it to the couches of the living room, though neither of them sit down.

"No," says Bruce.

"Alright then," says Superman, who Bruce is learning is an asshole. "I heard some stuff happened with Dick at school?"

Which is entirely unsubtle and a very clear sign that Superman is not leaving until Bruce asks some sort of question or resolves whatever this is.

So fine. Bruce hasn't even had some fucking coffee yet. He'll ask a question. "What would you do if your child, who is aware that at nightime they can go out and punch abusers and rapists, during the daytime attempted to defend an underclassman, and as a result are threatened with criminal action or suspension while you are trying to lie low and causing a big fuss about it and fighting the decision will do the exact opposite of laying low, severely limiting their freedom regardless of if we win."

Like a coward, Superman's expression says he had been thinking of Dick as a kid who was not Dick , and sheepishly says, "I guess, what would your parents do?"

Bruce thinks he feels it this time. The expression on his face turning colder. He feels it the same way Dick can always see the change. "I wouldn't know that, now, would I?"

...this was why he left in the first place, wasn't it. This eternal loop of days upon days surrounded by people who just forgot or never could let him forget. It's been easier as an adult, almost-- it's normal now for people's parents to be dead. It's normal to not have people ask after them like limbs they can't see have detached. Even if Superman doesn't know his old name, doesn't know that stupid story about a boy billionaire and his rich family, its jarring to realize that even the most alien being on earth just assumes--

--well, of course. He would know all humans have parents.

But the bite in Bruce's voice is cold enough, and the way Alfred's slight shuffling in the kitchen goes quiet, it's enough to get through apparently-- Superman's head is ducked down embarrassed and he says, "right, sorry," because perhaps Bruce returning to Gotham to the fucking Wayne Butler's House should've been enough reason to realize he didn't have any family left of his own. "The person who raised you…"

"Nothing they said," Bruce interrupts, "has ever done anything about this."

…

Maybe he's angry. He hasn't had any coffee yet. But he turns to end this conversation and walk out to the garden, and hears Alfred's sigh from the kitchen.

But he's telling the truth.

Even if Alfred had found something new to say in the years since Bruce tried to bite his therapist's face off, if he's tried to say it to Dick, it clearly hasn't been working.

There is a thing like a piston beating up against his head. A hammering rhythmically at the front of his skull. One thing, then another, then another, then another, and when he wakes up the next morning to one more ring there will still be all the ones behind him, echoing through the halls still unresolved.

He wasn’t made to live like this. How was anyone made to live like this? One thing after another and another and when he wakes up in the morning there are still more banal, useless things to do in a world that eats up and eats up and eats up--

How does the grocery store clerk wake up each morning? How does she go to bed at night knowing the same thing will happen the next day, but worse, and more tired, and less pay, over and over, for eternity.

#batman #dick grayson #bruce wayne #robin #fanfic #roadtrip vigilantes

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freshstartbaby · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2

PREVIOUS PART

Nov - Quand vient la nuit partie 2

“Appearances are often deceptive because a broken heart is invisible and its scars are indelible”

It’s been a while since Florian did not drive. It was a weird feeling to have back a wheel in his hands. But he couldn’t deny it, it was releasing. There was a kind of freedom in driving that Florian missed a lot.

Three years wasted. Three damn years. It could have been more, but it was already too much. Florian didn’t like to waste time. It is too precious. Even if he was caring, disciplined and charismatic, everything could shut down if you dared to waste his time. Unfortunately he wasted his own time by his own negligence.

He was snitched on. Someone gave his name. Usually he was persuasive and very inconspicuous. It was good qualities for someone who made fake money. But some new partner wasn’t tough enough. He knew his name. He knew it not even a week after he was locked. He will take care of it. But not right now.

Right now, he had to find Rebecca and Youri. Wherever they were.

« This day will definitely never ends. « he thought

He didn’t want to fight. Just know where they were and have a little conversation. Was she crazy ? What went through her mind to think she could leave ? And take his son with her. The only thought about losing them gave a headache to Florian.

He took a deep breath and grabbed a cigarette. While he was lighting it he shook his head slowly. Florian knew Rebecca, and he knew that if she had the audacity to make a move so bold, she must be upset. Enraged maybe. It’s not her type. Even less with him. But when she was, he must lay down.

He took Alexei’s phone. Florian couldn’t take his own, it was perfectly destroyed before police arrived to arrest him. But he made sure that Alexei had the location of Rebecca on his phone. He just prayed that she didn’t turn it down. She didn’t.

« Gott sei Dank / Thanks god » Florian whispered to himself

At least a good news today. When he finally arrived at the address, he discovered a hotel. Florian parked and closed his eyes tightly and let his head drop on the head of his seat. She took his son to a hotel ? He better be a five stars or she better book a suite. He only wants the best for his blood. He only wants the best for her.

Florian stepped out of the car, trying to bring together his last drop of strength. He walked through the door and went to the receptionist.

« Good evening Sir and welcome to the Newton Hotel, how may I help you » the receptionist said in an enthusiastic tone

« Good evening, could you tell me if Mrs Shakur Rebecca booked a room in here ? « he asked laying on the counter

« Everything for you Sir » she answered which a flirtatious smile

Florian kept a straight face. He didn’t have time for that. He wasn’t here to play. He already has too many issues. Too many women issues. He didn’t even take a break since he is out. This flirtatious vibe ? It was the last of his problems.

When the receptionist realized he wasn’t down for it, she looked back at her screen and looked for the name he gave her.

« Yea Mrs Shakur booked a room today, do you want me to call her ? Who is asking for her ? » the receptionist said while grabbing the phone

« Can I have the room number ? » Florian said looking at her

« Unfortunately sir, I can only give it to you if Mrs Shakur allowed me to »

« Come on... » Florian looked her badge where her name, Deborah, was written « Deby, I’m sure you can do an exception for a gentleman » he said licking his lips while looking at her

Florian knew what effect he could have on women. He was good looking, it was a observation. He didn’t really enjoy taking advantage of it, but when I needed it, he did it. Without any regret.

« Deby, at what time do you end your shift ? « he said in a low voice

The young Latina woman looked left and right, making sure that no one was listening while she played with her black beautiful hair

« In two hours » she said bringing back her flirtatious bright smile

« Maybe we could spend some time together after that, I will love to » he said biting softly his lips after ending the sentence.

It was too much for the young lady. She grabbed a piece of paper, noted something on it and gave it to him quickly.

« Call me if you don’t see me » she whispered

« I will for sure, but Deby, what about the room number ? I need to handle some small business down there » Florian said, putting the paper in his trouser pocket.

« Room 834, take this elevator with this card, and go down the hallway to the right » the receptionist said while showing him the elevators « please don’t kill anyone »

« I be a good boy don’t worry » Florian said going through the way.

When he arrived in front of the door he felt exhausted. He wanted to cry so badly. But he couldn’t allow it. Florian didn’t want to argue. He wanted to take them in his arms and take them home. But this scenario will be hardly feasible. He shook his broad shoulders and finally knocked.

The door slowly opened few seconds later revealing Rebecca. They looked at each other, chest moving hard by heavy breath.

« Can I come in ? » Florian asked in a soft voice

« No, we getting out » Rebecca answered « wait a minute »

She closed back the door and looked at Youri who was playing with his tablet. He looked back at her mother.

« Who was it Mumy ? » the boy said while he put pause on his game

Rebecca put on her slippers and looked at herself in the mirror

« Put your slippers on baby, and put a jacket on, we getting out a little » she answered him while putting some fragrance

When the little boy was ready, she looked at him to make sure he was looking right and that his shoes were put in the right order. She finally opened the door and let her son see his father.

« Tata ! » Youri screamed before jumped in his father arms

« My champ » Florian said hugging his blood thigh

Rebecca closed the door behind her and went through the elevators

« Where are we goin Mumy ? » Youri asked

« There is a chill area down there, let’s go » she said pressing the elevator button.

She crossed her arms and looked at her son and Florian, hugging and kissing each other.

—-

Youri was playing not too far from his parents. Far enough not to hear their conversation. But close enough to them to see him.

It’s been five minutes since they were sitting on the opposite side of the couch. No one had the balls or the emotional strength to start the conversation.

Rebecca didn’t want to say things she will regret, because she knew she was hurted at the moment. She had so much to say, but it will go out too crude if she talks now. So she chose the silent mode.

Florian didn’t know where to begin and didn’t want to upset Rebecca more than she already was. When she was in silent mode he always felt Damocles sword on top of his head.

« Youri’s German is really good » he said

Rebecca wanted to roll her eyes so bad. Really ? He came to talk about Youri’s German level ? She tried to play it cool and finally answered

« Yea he is taking classes » she said crossing her legs

« How much time are you staying here ? » Florian finally asked softly looking at her

« I don’t know » she told, looking straight in front of her

« You don’t know ? » Florian repeated, not really ok with this answer

« I don’t know » she said again, still not looking at him

« What do you mean you don’t know Rebecca ? » he told in a low voice

He was trying to hide that the situation was upsetting him, but with this kind of answer, it’s gon be hard.

« What don’t you understand exactly in this sentence »

He looked at her for few seconds and looked straight in front of him. Now he had to support her attitude. He was with the worst version of Rebecca right now.

« If you wanted act dumb and have an attitude you didn’t had to bring my-« without looking at her he felt Rebecca eyes pierced him « our son here » he said rubbing his beard

Rebecca started laughing. Florian rubbed his eyes. He was fucked

« Act dumb ? Your son ? » she laughed once more and looked back straight in front of her « Oh Florian, jail must had fuck your brain, you forgot all about me. You want to talk to me like shit ? Who the fuck you talking to ? Are you really calling dumb the woman who took care of your son since three years by herself. And by the way, I didn’t know men could make babies on their own. » Rebecca said in a straight voice

« Can I offer you some refreshments ? » a waiter who pass by asked them

« No it’s ok thank you » Rebecca said with a large smile, trying to look right

Florian kept looking at her. Not really sure about what he heard. She never talks to him that way. She wasn’t like that. They weren’t like that.

« Why did you come here exactly ? Why come here, take Youri and disturb him ? »

Florian said

« Are you kidding me ? Flo please stop acting like that. » she said rubbing her temples

« Acting like what ? Like I care about you. »

Rebecca smiled while she shook her head. He was trying to play her. She wasn’t falling for it. Not anymore. And deep down she wanted to beat her own ass for falling for it for so many years.

« Florian, you do not care about us. You showed it once again today. You knew how important it was for us. And once again you didn’t choose us. I came here with our son so you can understand I’m not your prisoner. It’s not because you put us in a big house, got us monitored by a bodyguard and gave us money that I can not leave you. You took us for granted for enough time» she chuckled « Leave you, sorry, i don't think it fit us well since we’re not together and we don’t really exist. »

She stopped talking when Youri came running to them with his tablet.

« Can we take a picture ? » he asked showing all his teeth

« Ow baby Mumy is not looking really good right now, take one with Tata » Rebecca said trying to hide her clenching jaw.

She was emptying her bag, but she couldn’t lose face either in front of her son or in front of Florian. She was trying so hard to look strong.

All those words were in her mind for a lot of time now, but she never confessed them to anyone. And now that she was speaking them out loud it was... just so true and so hurting. Tough reality was hitting her hard.

What hurted her the most was that she was in this situation because of her own decision. Her own hopes.

« Please just one of three of us, I don’t have a lot of it » Youri said in a pleading voice

Rebecca licked her lips and smiled softly. She looked at Florian, staring into space.

Youri had to rub his daddy thigh to catch back his attention for the picture. After taking few ones, the little boy walked away again.

Rebecca’s words were resonating in and messing with Florian's head. Even if he knew it, he didn’t want that breaking point to come.

« And please stop acting like few nights in a hotel gon disturb our son, when he had to live with a ghost father his entire life. Hear me out, I will never try to take away your son from you. But don’t act like I’m a bad mother. I'm just done going last. » Rebecca said finally looking at him

Florian was speechless. It was like his soul was out of his own body. Was it a dream ? More a nightmare. He felt every beat of his heart and every blood pulsation in his hands. Was she leaving him ?

He didn’t find the words and the excuses he listed before. It was like they were all gone after what Rebecca said. It was so hard to hear.

« I’m sorry. » Florian finally said before clearing his throat. He looked back at her, finally catching her eyes since the beginning of the conversation

Rebecca swallowed hard.

« I’m so sorry you feel that way. I'm sorry about the way I acted. I’m sorry calling you dumb. I never wanted to say you were a bad mother, I know how amazing you are. »

Rebecca sniffed trying to keep her face straight and not to cry. But it was so hard once she was drowning in his eyes. It was so hard. If her ego wasn’t hurt so badly, she might be in his arms right now. Telling him how much she missed him. How much she wanted him.

But he made a choice today. And she made hers.

« Look, use the house card for the hotel, stay how much you need to. Just tell me when you leave. I will text you my new phone number when I get one. » Florian said in soft voice while getting up and coming in front of her

She looked up at him, nodding her head for only answer. He ran his tongue over his upper gum looking at her while she got up.

She was looking so good. He missed her. More than in one way. While Elizabeth has the right to come for conjugal visit, Rebecca has to fill the lack of Florian by other ways. And it was killing him. Because only god knew how much he missed her.

« Whatever you decide, I be there and the house doors will always be open. You know that Becky, it’s yours.» Florian said grabbing the side of her neck while brushing his thumb on her jaw.

She nodded her head once again. Except that this time tears dropped her eyes. He was the man who hurted her the most, but he was also her best friend and her soulmate. It was such a hard war.

« Shhh baby don’t cry, we gon find a solution » Florian said, taking her in his arms.

What Florian really meant was trying to find a solution where it was not an option to lose her. Even if he hurted her, he wasn’t giving up on his rib.

—-

Last step. Florian took his time for this one. It’s already been more than one hour since he came back to his crib in Yorkville.

Sitting in his arm chair he watched the neighborhood move in front of him. Once called German Broadway, he appreciates being here. It reminds him of some places in Munich.

He tried to draw strength from the city to get up and manage his last duty. But it was more difficult than he thought. Mostly after what Rebecca told him. Minutes kept flowing and Florian couldn’t get up.

« Flo, is that you ? » a sweet soft voice said behind him.

Florian closed his eyes before turning back to his wife.

« Lizzy what are you doing up darling ? »

Elizabeth walked through him slowly before sitting on his lap. She rubbed her eyes before putting a lock of blonde hair behind her left ear. She ran her fingers in his beard before kissing his forehead.

« Welcome home baby » she whispered

Elizabeth Strauss. Daughter of Eugen Strauss and Natalia Strauss. Only child, she was always been really close to them and she has always been their biggest pride and investment.

Thanks to that, she didn’t have difficulties when she came to the US, six years earlier. His parents made sure she could move there just after marrying Florian.

They also made sure she could talk English, French, German, Spanish, Chinese, Portuguese and had a degree in a recognized European university. She was just brilliant.

Unfortunately Elizabeth also had trouble. More than one. But Eugen and Natalia made sure to manage them and kept them hidden from the public eyes.

« Come get some sleep, you must be exhausted » Elizabeth said

She got up, grabbed Florian’s hand who was on her back and pulled it. Florian got up slowly and followed her.

« Let me take a shower first » he said letting go her hand « I join you, go rest, it’s late »

He watched the shadow of his wife go away in the dark place before going through the bathroom.

When he laid down in his bed, he finally felt more relaxed. He knew his troubles were far from being solved. But it was less tense than few hours ago.

And being in his bed ? His own bed. Damn it was priceless. Florian was a big and tall man, jail’s bed was torturous for him. He turned to his left side, inhaling the sheets when his eyes felt on Elizabeth.

She was a beautiful woman. He couldn’t deny it. Everytime he looked at her, he didn’t know what he felt. She was kind and caring. But she wasn’t Rebecca.

It was like that since their six years of marriage and also since they knew each other, he didn’t know so much about her. They had some conversation, he knew her qualities and her defects. He even knew the name of her main co workers. But he didn’t feel the same way toward his Becky.

He laid back and thought about the day who fucked up what he wanted for Rebecca and him.

—-

Few years earlier

The road to the Munich airport was silent. Florian and Rebecca were sitted in the back of a cab.

She was looking at the landscape through her shades while he was looking at her. He tried to make contact. He knew they needed to talk. But he didn’t know if she was ready for it.

Florian put his hands on her thigh but she didn’t react. The nine flight hours will be hard since she didn’t even want to talk.

When they arrived at the airport the cab man helped them to get their suitcase out of the truck and thanked them. Florian thanked him too but Rebecca didn’t answer.

She stopped making efforts two days ago.

It was embarrassing Florian but he also understood it. Everything didn’t go well this week.

Florian decided that time had come to introduce his girlfriend to his Family. They were both so excited about it. Rebecca even started learning some German, so she could make basic conversation.

They spent the first day making a tour town. Florian showed her everything single spot he loved and she liked the stars he had in his eyes when he was telling her stories about them.

The day after, they finally got to the family house. It was at this moment things started to get bad.

Florian already talked about her to his family, even showed her. But as a friend. Now that it was more than that, some of them weren’t down for it.

Florian was kind of over taken by the situation. He didn’t know what was the issue. She was smart, kind, warm and beautiful. Moreover she was making him happy. It was the most important, wasn’t it ?

Obviously nobody wanted to tell him what was the issue. The only thing he could see was heavy sharing looks between some of them.

Florian reassured her the first night. And the second. She wasn’t stupid, something was wrong. But she kept trying to be herself and make a good impression. All she got was weak smiles and cold faces.

She couldn’t understand a word they were saying. So she hoped that her boyfriend would be a good translator, but sometimes she felt he rather not.

Rebecca thought she had come with her mate and that they had each other back no matter what. But at the end of the day she didn’t feel that way.

« How you find her » Florian asked to his parents, his shoulder in the kitchen door frame

They looked at each other drinking their coffee, then at him.

« Come sit son » his father said

« She seemed to be a nice woman. » his mother said, turning the page of her newspaper.

Florian looked at her waiting for the next part. He didn’t like the cold face she had on since they were here

« But ? » Florian said

« But maybe you should reconsider this. » she said

« Why ? What’s wrong ? » he said, putting his hands on the table.

« Baby, maybe in the US it’s ok, but you got to think in the long term. You maybe have things in common I can hear that. And she really seemed nice again. But don’t you forget you also have a lot of differences. She doesn’t even speak German. Are you planning to marry her ? Is she even Protestant ? What about your children, how are you going to raise them ? What about the legacy, Munteanu had always been-« his mother stopped her sentence feeling that she was losing it

Florian stared at her. Not really sure about what he heard. His parents raised him with values and respect and diversity was one of them. He always had plenty of people of color for friends even in the business. And it never seemed to bother them. What was this suddenly reversed speech ?

« Munteanu had always been ? » he repeated the sentence so he can have the last part

« White. Your mother means that Munteanu had always been white » his father said

—

Rebecca put the last touch of her make up before checking on herself. She squinted her eyes, not sure that she had well hidden her dark circles. She left the bathroom and checked that she had everything she needed in her bag.

She grabbed Youri’s backpack when her phone started ringing. She looked at her screen, cleared her throat and accepted the call.

« Good morning Tory »

« Hi boss, you’re ok ? »

« Yea I’m great and you ? Do you need anything ? » Rebecca said putting her purse on her shoulder and closing the door.

Tory was one of her employees for two years now. She was a talented black seamstress. Her advices were useful to Rebecca more than once. And that’s exactly why she chose to work with her.

When Rebecca decided to launch her own clothes line, Second Skin, she wanted to be an inclusive company. But above that, she wanted to surround herself with talented, experienced, fresh, even daring people of color.

Tory was one of her associates she trusted the most. Not just because she already had a lot of experience but mainly because was a hard worker. Whatever happened to her, she always showed up or find a way not to give up on the team.

« I’m good, but my daughter felt sick this morning. I think she caught the flu. I call you to tell that I will work from home today, Lucy will bring me the fabric »

« Oh I hope it’s not too bad, take your day if you need to » she said walking walking through the hallway

« No it’s ok, I can make it. I will warn you if it goes bad and I can’t make enough pieces » she answered

« Ok keep me update, good luck to you »

She said looking at the elevator doors

« Yes ma ‘am, have a nice day »

« You too, thank you for calling me Tory »

Rebecca let slip her phone in her bag and left the elevator. She walked down the hall and went through the food area. She stopped for a second, looking for her men, when she heard Youri called her. She snapped her head and started walking towards him.

Florian looked towards her. His heart skipped a beat when his eyes finally met her. It was like he had forgotten how beautiful she was every time he saw her.

This morning, he showed up early in their room asking her if he could catch up the breakfast he missed. What she agreed, of course. She knew Youri will be delighted by this, she was down for it.

But her heart was still heavy from the last day. So she decided to let them have some time together.

Florian got up, welcoming her to the table. He put his wide hand on her waist and pulled her in a side hug.

One part of her wanted to make him sit, sit herself on his broad thigh and hug him for the rest of the day. But the hug was fast, almost running.

Florian kept her wrist when she got down to kiss Youri. He wanted her in his arms. Why does she get to be this fast ?

While she was making sure her son had eaten everything he needed for his breakfast, Florian caressed Rebecca’s hand, noticing that something was missing.

They both sat, face to face. A waiter came to ask Rebecca if she wanted to order something.

« May I have a lemon tea please « she said softly

She touched Youri’s head, smiling at him and looked at Florian. He was staring at her neck and looked at her eyes. She landed back her eyes through her son quickly.

Florian stuck his back to his chair, rubbing his beard, still looking at her neck. Something was missing there too. And he didn’t really appreciate it. He blinked a few seconds when her tea arrived.

He chewed his inner cheek and cleared his throat

« It’s all you gon have for breakfast ? » he pointing at her cup of tea

« Yea, I’m not hungry at all » Rebecca said touching the tea bag

« Mmh, you used to be greedier in the morning « he told her, with a salace tone, looking at their son then back to her

She didn’t answer, just blew on her tea. She wasn’t playing this game.

---

Few years earlier

« Daddy » Rebecca whispered arching her back and grabbing her pillow

It’s all she could say. It’s all she could have screamed or whispered. She suffered every Florian’s thrust. And she loved it so much.

When they were in a regular dating relationship, Rebecca and Florian had few sharing hobbies. Food, Night clubs, weird films, nap and sex. Morning sex was their favorite.

He had a shitty day the day before and he crashed to Becky’s crib. She cooked and set a chill zone for him. He even had the right to be massaged.

The way her fingers were touching him was sinful. He knew she knew what she was doing. He will take care of it tomorrow. He knew it wouldn’t be a big deal for her.

But the morning after, he was waking up by wet kisses in his neck and a fucking beautiful woman on top of him. She was too good. And she needed to be rewarded for this.

Florian kept thrusting in her deeply, earning moans and preases. The view he had gave him the need of an endless memory. Her skin, her flesh, her stretch marks. This view was priceless.

The combination of sounds he was hearing triggered something in him. He knew he would bust out if he didn’t focus a little.

Florian let his head drop to the back and breathe hardly. He shook his head, trying to get himself together before slapped Rebecca’s ass.

« You’re driving me crazy » he tried to say before slapping her ass once more « You know that »

She couldn’t answer anymore. She was about to cum. Her face was stuck to the mattress and split was slowly dropping from her mouth.

She was addicted to this feeling. The goosebumps on her skin, his large hands gripping her hips, the giggling of her small boobs, the hard trust and of course her coochie overstimulated.

She found the strength to put herself on her elbows and looked back at her boyfriend smirking at her.

« There you go » he grunted grabbing her neck

She wanted this activity to last forever. She wanted to start every single day this way.

---

« I can drop you » Florian said, lighting his cigarette in front of the hotel door.

« I took my car, thanks for proposing »

Rebecca said grabbing her car keys in her purse

« You’re sure ? » he asked a second time. Maybe she will accept. She was tough in business, but he used to manage her. He used to.

« Yes. Youri say goodbye to Tata, we’re gon be late for school. » she told rubbing her son back

Youri stepped closer to his father hugging his thigh. Florian got down and kissed his blood forehead.

« Have a nice day Champ, be the greatest you can be, alright ? » he whispered

« Alright ! » Youri said smiling at her dad

« I love you son » he told him

« ich liebe dich auch / I love you too Tata » hugging him tight

Florian got up and took another puff of his cigaret looking at Rebecca. She stepped toward him and hugged him quickly. She didn’t really want to, but she didn’t want Youri to feel animosity between them.

Once again Florian found this hug too fast, so he grabbed her wrist trying hold her back.

« Hey have a nice day » he said putting some of her braids behind her shoulder

« Yea you too Florian » Rebecca said grabbing Youri’s hand.

She unlocked her car, settled Youri in his chair and closed his door. She was ready to jump in her car when Florian called her

« Becky ! » he said loud enough so she can hear him

She snapped her head looking at him.

« Where are your attributes ? »

It is how they used her jewelry. A queen shouldn’t have to be out without her attributes, he said.

Rebecca looked at the ground and raised her shoulders

« I quitted the job » she said before getting in the car.

Being a side chick, raising her son with a ghost baby daddy, hiding that the love of her life was working for illegal businesses, feeling like she wasn’t good enough for him, pretending all this situation was ok, yeah, she was quitting it.

Florian looked at the car getting away.

She did what ?

—-

Wassssup yall

Let me know what you think

Xoxo

NEXT PART

liquorlaughslove xsweetdellzx

#florian munteanu #florian big nasty munteanu #thicc daddy flo #florian munteanu x black reader #florian munteanu headcanons #big nasty #bignasty #fanfic

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hobbitsetal · 3 years

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“Give all you have and follow Me”

Dear anon,

You asked me, in the course of asking about another of Jesus’s parables, “also when he says that you cannot be a desciple without giving up everything we own.. like are we actually meant to give up everything we physically own?”

Since you asked about a parable in Luke, I’ll quote Luke’s account of this interaction also. Google tells me it’s found in Luke 18:18-30:

“And a ruler asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” And Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone. You know the commandments: ‘Do not commit adultery, Do not murder, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Honor your father and mother.’” And he said, “All these I have kept from my youth.” When Jesus heard this, he said to him, “One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” But when he heard these things, he became very sad, for he was extremely rich. Jesus, seeing that he had become sad, said, “How difficult it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God! For it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” Those who heard it said, “Then who can be saved?” But he said, “What is impossible with man is possible with God.” And Peter said, “See, we have left our homes and followed you.” And he said to them, “Truly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or wife or brothers or parents or children, for the sake of the kingdom of God, who will not receive many times more in this time, and in the age to come eternal life.”

The question, I think, is “is it wrong for a Christian to own things?”

The short answer is “no.” The longer answer is you have to use Scripture to interpret Scripture; that is, passages like this one have to be understood within the greater context of Scripture as a whole. What else does the Bible have to say about owning things? and particularly about Christians owning things?

I’ll pull out a few things from the New Testament for you, since one might perhaps make the argument that Old Testament wealth was under the Old Covenant and not the New Covenant.

Joseph of Arimathea comes to mind. He was a wealthy man who gave up his tomb to bury Christ’s body. Nowhere in the text does anything indicate that Jesus had a problem with him being rich. In fact, because he was rich, he could afford a tomb.

Acts 4:34-37 illustrates the Christian attitude toward possessions well, I think:

“...and there was not a needy person among them, for as many as were owners of lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold and laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need. Thus Joseph, who was also called by the apostles Barnabas (which means son of encouragement), a Levite, a native of Cyprus, sold a field that belonged to him and brought the money and laid it at the apostles’ feet.”

But does this mean we must sell what we have and donate it to the church? Well, no.

Further on in Acts, 16:14-15 to be specific, we learn of a woman who took the apostles into her home. “One who heard us was a woman named Lydia, from the city of Thyatira, a seller of purple goods, who was a worshiper of God. The Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what was said by Paul. And after she was baptized, and her household as well, she urged us, saying, “If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come to my house and stay.” And she prevailed upon us.”

Nothing is said of Lydia selling her home or her business. Purple, in Biblical/Roman times, was a very expensive dye, so mentioning that she sold purple goods was a way of saying she was rich. And she used the wealth to practice hospitality and to give the apostles a place to stay. She’s never mentioned again in the Bible.

There’s also James 4:13-15, one of my favorite passages:

“Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit”— yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.”“

James doesn’t condemn people for trying to make money; he reminds them that everything we have comes from the Lord.

So. I could go through more passages, but I’m trying to condense a book into a tumblr post, so let’s just summarize how I understand the Bible’s teaching on owning stuff overall and Jesus’s point in this passage.

The rich young ruler came to Jesus asking what he could do to earn salvation. Jesus reminded him that no one is good and reminded him of the Ten Commandments, to which the ruler answered that he’d kept all of them.

That’s a heck of a claim to make. James says, “For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become guilty of all of it,” and Paul says something similar in...Romans? Personally, I fail the First Commandment daily: “Thou shalt have no other gods before Me.”

You wanna know how many times I fail to prioritize God as I should? Enough times to make me grateful that He is a God of grace.

Yet Jesus doesn’t call him out on the height of this claim. He doesn’t even choose now to elevate the Law as He does in the Sermon on the Mount, when He equated hatred to murder. (I’m screwed on that count.) Instead, He tells the ruler that the only thing he needs to do to be righteous, to earn heaven, is to give up his wealth.

Jesus is God. God knows all things, including our thoughts. I’m convinced that Jesus knew already how the ruler would respond to this challenge. He knew that the ruler loved his wealth and what he had more than he loved and desired God.

That’s really it, anon. What do you love most in this world? What are you willing to give up for the sake of the Lord? If obeying God meant breaking up with your s/o, would you? If obeying God meant telling the truth when it would hurt you to do so, would you? If obeying God meant sacrificing some creature comforts?

There’s a pastor named Brad Bigney who preached a sermon series and wrote a book, both titled “Gospel Treason.” Bigney defines idolatry (or having a god before the Lord) as “anything you are willing to sin to get, or you are willing to sin to keep.”

If being rich or owning something is more important to me than anything else in the world, that’s a problem. That is a sin. That is what Jesus condemns in this passage.

Everything we have, from the breath in our lungs to the money in our bank account to the people in our lives, is a gift from God. Everything we have ultimately returns to God. There’s nothing wrong with me having money. In fact, it’s a very good thing that I do because I’m able to use that money for God. This isn’t my money; it’s God’s money. So when I make decisions about what to buy or not buy, I make those decisions to honor God to the best of my ability.

My parents bought a boat and a vacation home. They’ve used that boat and that home to bless other Christians: to take them out on the bay and to give them a beach getaway that would otherwise be too expensive. My parents have used their wealth and their physical possessions to feed souls and bring rest to the weary.

Nice clothes, books, quality furniture: there’s no sin in having these things. Indeed, owning something that will last for many years is usually a wiser use of money than buying something cheap that will need replacing, though it’s not always a feasible choice for people.

It always comes back to the heart: what do you value? What do you trust? Are you secure because you have money in the bank? Or are you secure because you trust Jesus when He says He will provide for what we need?

If you lost everything tomorrow and you were out on the street with the clothes on your back, could you say with the apostle Paul, “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.“?

#give all you have and follow Me #theology #the gospel grace and God's glory

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smokebeer6 · 3 years

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#medicine

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imagine-loki · 4 years

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Caught in his web, Chapter 27

TITLE: Caught in his web CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 27 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki is a crime lord, a very dangerous man in the city. He is owed money, but the man is unable to pay Loki back, so Loki takes his daughter as payment instead. RATING: M

Chloe felt like she was in a bit of a daydream while she was getting ready for the first day of college.

Part of her was excited, another was still slightly shocked because when Loki initially took her, she didn’t believe she would even get to see the light of day again, never mind have freedom to go to college. But then there was also a part of her that was just terrified in general.

She knew first day jitters were to be expected, but she never realised how bad they would actually be.

When she went down for breakfast, Loki was sitting in his usual spot at the head of the table.

‘Good morning, doll.’ He smiled brightly at her when she entered.

‘Morning.’ She smiled back at him and sat down, Tania came over to ask what she wanted to eat then went to prepare it for her.

‘Are you looking forward to starting college today?’ Loki asked as he put down his newspaper.

Chloe caught part of it, it looked like a picture of Loki from last week when he was opening a new foodbank that he’d funded.

‘Uhm. Yeah, I am.’ She nodded and then thanked Tania when she placed her breakfast down on front of her.

‘You do not sound so convincing.’ Loki said, taking a sip of his tea.

‘I am… I just… have a bit of first day nerves, is all.’ She said as she swirled her spoon around her cereal.

Loki raised an eyebrow then stood up and moved behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and started massaging her as he leaned down. ‘Well, firstly, eat your breakfast. You definitely need it. And secondly, it’s natural to be a bit nervous. It’s the first day of the rest of your life, after all. However, you are a very clever girl, Chloe. You have good friends, too. I know you’ll be fine. And if there’s anything, anything at all that isn’t fine, you just let me know and I’ll sort it.’ He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

Chloe knew he would do exactly that. And it did make her feel a tiny bit better.

Ralph took her to college and dropped her off. He said he would collect her after too, on Loki’s request. Loki had wanted to go with her but he had to start work before she left, so it wasn’t feasible.

Chloe was fine once she met up with Georgie and Amanda. They went to their classes together, luckily they were all studying fashion design so were in the same classes.

It didn’t last overly long though. During their lunch break, the three girls were having lunch together when two other students appeared. Chloe felt her stomach drop, she hated those two, they had always picked on Chloe, Georgie and Amanda from primary school right up and through secondary school too.

‘Oh great.’ Chloe whispered to her friends as the two bullies, Laura and Taylor, approached them.

‘Well what do we have here?’ Laura sneered, folding her arms over her chest and staring at the three. ‘I’m surprised you three even got to step foot in here with your terrible fashion sense.’

Chloe, Amanda and Georgie had tried multiple things over the years. Telling their parents, the teachers, being nasty back, killing them with kindness and also just ignoring them. But nothing worked, they were still horrible bitches towards them.

So Chloe just rolled her eyes and carried on eating.

But Laura didn’t like that. She smacked Chloe’s hand, knocking her sandwich out of her hand and then slammed her hands on the table. ‘I’m speaking to you, bitch!’ She shouted.

‘Seriously? We’re not in school anymore, you’re supposed to be a damn adult, why don’t you start acting like one?’ Chloe snapped at her.

Laura and Taylor laughed.

‘She’s got a voice after all.’ Taylor sniggered.

‘Just leave us alone?’ Georgie tried, but ended up with Taylor getting right up into her face.

Before anything could escalate, a teacher luckily walked into the cafeteria. So Taylor and Laura backed away, in-case they were seen.

‘We will be seeing plenty of you three nerds.’ Laura laughed as they both walked away.

Chloe wanted to be sick. She sighed and put her face into her hands. ‘I can’t fucking believe this. Why did they have to be here, out of everyone we know?’

‘It really sucks.’ Amanda grumbled.

The rest of the day went ok. But it turned out the three friends had some classes with Laura and Taylor. Who decided to make their day hell, so Chloe was rather relieved when it was finally the end of the day.

Ralph was waiting outside to pick her up, she had never felt so relieved to get into the car than she did at that moment. She let out a big sigh as she sat down on the leather seats.

‘Are you alright?’ Ralph asked, glancing in the mirror.

‘Yeah… Just… A shitty first day.’ She sighed again.

‘I’m sure it will be better tomorrow. First day jitters are normal.’ He said and drove on.

‘I doubt it.’ She grumbled quietly, not thinking he heard her.

When they got back to Loki’s, she actually felt relieved to be… home? She still wasn’t sure about calling it home. But it was better than being at college right now.

Loki didn’t seem to be in, so she grabbed a quick bite to eat then went up to her room. She sat at the desk in her room and started doing some college work, finding she was able to focus so much better than when in class with Laura and Taylor constantly nagging at her.

She was so focused on her work she never heard Loki entering her room and creeping up behind her to see what she was working on.

‘Good day?’

He smirked when she almost jumped right out of her chair. She spun around and glared up at him for scaring her.

‘Stop doing that!’ She whined.

Loki chuckled and put his hands on the arm rests as he leaned down, lips close to hers. ‘I just find it so adorable when you jump, doll.’ He closed the distance and kissed her on the lips softly, taking her breath away.

When he stood up straight, he moved around to perch against the desk. ‘So, how was your day?’ He asked as she turned around to face him.

‘It was good.’ Chloe nodded and looked back to the work on her desk.

Loki frowned and leaned forward, gripping her chin. ‘Don’t lie to me, Chloe.’ His eyes pierced into hers, making her feel like she was trapped if she didn’t tell him the truth.

‘It… was… kinda crap.’ She said sadly.

Loki released her chin, now looking concerned. ‘What happened?’

Chloe ran her hand down her face. ‘There’s these two girls that went to our primary and secondary school. Bullies. Always picked on me, Georgie and Amanda. We tried everything to get them to stop, nothing worked. The teachers were useless. I tried telling them today that they’re adults and should act like it, but it just made them laugh. Throwing bits of paper at us during our lessons today, glaring at us and walking into us in the corridors. Knocking my lunch from my hand. It’s bloody childish, but so annoying. We had no idea they were going to the same college. Not to mention they always put us down about our capabilities of fashion designing.’ She let out a big breath after her rant.

‘Sorry… I just… I hate them so much.’

Loki reached out and cupped her cheek. ‘Don’t apologise. They do indeed sound very childish… What are their names?’

‘Taylor Wilson and Laura Henderson.’ Chloe said without thinking about his question.

Loki paused, thinking. ‘Don’t fret about them, they won’t bother you anymore.’

Chloe’s eyes widened a little. ‘Wh… No, don’t hurt them!’ She squeaked.

As much as part of her thought she wouldn’t mind if they suddenly… died… She knew that wouldn’t be the right thing to do.

‘Leave it with me, doll.’ Loki stood and pulled his phone out, then started towards the door. ‘No one upsets my girl and gets away with it.’ He growled on his way out.

‘Ohhh shit.’ Chloe groaned and put her head down on the desk, she wasn’t sure if she should’ve told Loki or not now…

The following morning Chloe was expecting Ralph to be taking her to college again. But she was a little surprised when she found Loki waiting at the door for her.

‘I’m coming with you to drop you off today.’ He smiled and put his arm around her, kissing the top of her head.

‘Ok….’ She felt her stomach twist in uncertainty.

Loki had a few calls to make on the way there, Chloe just kept quiet and looked out the window. She was in a daze when Loki put his hand on her knee. She turned to look at him, he was smiling at her.

‘I want you to enjoy your time at college, it’s not just an important part of your life but it should also be one of the best. You shouldn’t have to be dreading to go every day because of two pathetic excuses for human beings. I’m glad you told me about them, and I hope you know you can come to me about anything at all. I will do my utmost to help you, ok?’ Loki said firmly, yet with a kindness in his eyes that soothed her.

Though there was a part of her that was still a little worried about what he’d done… Or was going to do.

‘Ok, thank you.’ She nodded.

When they arrived, Loki held the door open for her as she got out. There were many pupils heading into the college gates. Loki walked with her inside the grounds, then he turned to her and cupped her face, leaning down to kiss her. He didn’t care about the public display of affection, neither did she at first as she was lost in the feeling. But then when they stopped, she realised people were looking and whispering as they passed by.

‘Enjoy your day, doll.’ He winked at her.

‘Yeah… Thanks.’ She replied, slightly flustered as she hurried on inside.

By the time she sorted her things out at her locker and then grabbed something to eat from the cafeteria, since she’d not had breakfast before leaving, she got to her first class just on time. People were talking and smiling at her on the way, even holding doors for her when yesterday nobody seemed to give a shit.

She was confused, but shrugged it off. Thinking perhaps yesterday she had just been in a foul mood.

When she got to class, Amanda and Georgie were grinning from ear to ear.

‘What’s going on?’ Chloe asked, sitting down.

‘Why don’t you see for yourself.’ Amanda grinned and motioned with her head to the window that looked out to the front of the building.

Confused, she went and joined other pupils that were looking out. Her eyes widened when she saw Loki with the head teacher, and he was glaring at Laura and Taylor as they were leaving the premises.

‘What the…’ Chloe trailed off.

‘Turns out that Loki owns the damn college. What he says goes. And he wanted those two out.’ Amanda said, joining her by the window.

‘And I wonder why that is?’ Georgie said, joining them both as she nudged Chloe.

Chloe was in shock, she didn’t know what to say.

‘And it’s spread like wildfire that you are his girl. Some saw him kissing you when he dropped you off.’ Amanda grinned.

‘Oh crap.’ Chloe groaned.

‘Hey, Chloe.’ One of their classmates moved down to her. ‘What’s it like with Loki? He’s super hot and rich! You are one lucky girl.’

For Chloe it was much the same for the rest of the day. Other students asking her about Loki, some were just plain scared of her though and avoided her like the plague.

Even though she didn’t want to admit it… She rather liked the way everyone was nice and respectful towards her. Without Laura and Taylor there too, it was like she could finally breathe properly.

At the end of the day, she walked with Georgie and Amanda out of the gates, where she spotted Loki just down the street waiting outside the car.

He took off his sunglasses and smiled at them as they approached.

‘See you tomorrow, Chloe.’ Amanda and Georgie said, then they greeted Loki.

‘Would you girls like a lift?’ Loki offered, opening the door.

‘Sure, thank you!’ Amanda said gratefully, and Georgie thanked him too as they bundled into the back of the car.

‘Good day, doll?’ Loki smiled, slipping his arm around her before she got in.

‘It was… Yeah. Thank you.’ She smiled, blushing a little.

‘You’re welcome.’ Loki gave her a quick kiss, then helped her into the car and got in himself.

Some students saw Georgie and Amanda getting into the car with Loki and Chloe. So after that, they got the same amount of respect that Chloe did… And they certainly weren’t complaining either.

#Loki #Others #Submitted fic #submission #caught in his web #Chapter 27 #Fanfichiddles

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peonybane · 4 years

Text

STAR-CROSSED: Chapter 1

Pairing: Jackson (GOT7) x Reader

Word Count: 9.6 k

Genre: Science Fiction, Angst, Fluff, Crack, Smut (much… much later, maybe...)

Summary: Being a Jack was all you had ever wanted. And now you were— one of the youngest Jacks Earth had ever sent out. It was the adventure of a lifetime. But what do you do when you lose sight of the mission: can you remain… objective?

Notes: All italicized dialogue is in Gaganis.

A/N: So... the first two chapters of this are going to be extremely world building heavy. I promise though it will pick up after that.

Let’s see… Cephaloids, Ovitcari, Mengolki… Ah! There they were— the Ingan. Tapping on your tablet, you opened up the latest uploaded document on the newest (hopefully) allied planet, Gamma Tau 7— or as the locals knew it, Jigui.

Just as you opened up the file to see what the local holiday was going to be when you’d finally arrive, your annoying partner (strictly platonic, mind you, despite everyone’s best efforts) plucked your tablet from your hands.

“Hey! I was reading that.”

Jaehwan looked down at you, lifted the tablet well above you head, even as you jumped for it. Fucking beanpole. “Do you ever not work?”

“Hey! I’m preparing for the mission.”

“For five months?!”

You huffed crossing your arms. “I just like being prepared, ok?”

“Yeah, and what’s there to prepare for? You do realize that you and I are the first of the ambassador program? Right?”

You looked away from him, embarrassed. Damn bastard was right.

The two of you were chosen as cultural ambassadors for Earth. 900 years of exploring space and with every new species humans met, it was the most effective means of avoiding a potentially hostile conflict. Miscommunications, as it turns out, could be kept to a minimum if species were introduced to each other slowly. Your mentoring Jack while you were in training used the analogy of introducing two pets that were going to live together: give them neutral ground and let them get to know each other slowly.

“I know, I know. I’m just nervous.”

Jaehwan handed your tablet back to you. “You’re worrying too much. We’ll be just fine.”

“I know.” You sighed. “It’s just… they’ve never sent anyone as young as us before.”

He made a face as he sat down in the chair across from yours. “True, I guess. But you also got to remember: this is the first humanoid like species. These are not the usual circumstances.”

You hummed your agreement. He was right. These were not normal conditions.

The intercom system buzzed to life, the mechanical voice of the ship’s commander, LightWater, called your last name, followed by Jaehwan’s, Lee. “I’m letting you know that we will be rendezvousing with the Ingan vessel, Bandisbul within four hours. Would you like to come up to the bridge to see its approach?”

Jaehwan smiled at you before pushing the communication panel. “We’re on our way, Commander.”

Putting your tablet away in the cabinet above your bunk, you paused for a moment, looking around the room (more like a closet between you and Jaehwan) you’ve spent the last five months calling your home.

Sure, it took a mere few days to get through the Fold Node gates, the natural phenomena that made inter-system travel feasible. The problem was that plant bearing solar systems were very rarely anywhere near the Nodes, with Earth being a very rare exception with it being in relatively close proximity to Jupiter, the only known Node found in a planet.

Most solar systems had a Node near them… near being defined as a few lightyears outside of their outer limits. While the Mengolki had technology that allowed ships to travel faster than the speed of light, it still didn’t mean that the journey didn’t take time. Four days from Earth to Jupiter. Less than two days from Jupiter to the Gamma Tau Nebula through five Nodes. Almost five months from the Nebula to the inner rings of the Gamma Tau system.

Leaving your room, you nearly bumped into one of the Azikil crew members. You looked up into the eyeless (well, eyes as you’d know them) face of the crew member. “Oops. Sorry. I didn’t realized you were there.”

It made a small noise of acknowledgment, the gas glands deflating a bit. The translation implant allowed them to speak in your language. The mechanical voice translated the series of gaseous exhales and clicking, “It’s alright. I understand that we’re nearing the rendezvous point?”

Jaehwan answered for you. “Yep. Can’t believe it’s already over, huh, hyung? You gonna miss me?”

You had to bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing. Even though you both were suppose to be using the chosen human language decided by the Interspecies Ambassadorial Program, he’d sometimes fall back into his native language, often confusing your poor crewmates.

The Azikil— a species that would best described using human descriptors as a sentient fungi— let out another puff from its gas sacs, this time dispersing a few spores, usually a sign of some sort of distress. What distress though, you weren’t sure.

Because they were sexless, Jaehwan always liked to switch between hyung and noona, certainly not helping with their confusion.

“I suppose I will miss you. Even though you seem to be determined to confuse us with your strange words.”

Jaehwan laughed, his eyes crinkling. “Fair enough. Anyways, official farewells are not until later. And we better get up to the bridge.”

The Azikil crew member bowed, getting out of your way.

It was a relatively short walk and a couple of floor jumps to the bridge. Opening the hatch, Jaehwan offered you entrance first. “After you.”

You rolled your eyes, climbing up the ladder, before pushing off as you felt your weight decrease.

Zero-g. Your stomach flipped, still not used to the sudden shift in equilibrium, despite being in it so many times.

The U.I.S. Hermes, like all human created ships, was built based on centripetal force. While the outer rings of the ship spun, creating artificial gravity (though the gravity was less than that of Earth’s for the safety of the Azikil and Ovitcari) the center, the bridge, of the ship was stationary. This mainly allowed for fewer bodies on the bridge, since the master multitaskers, the Cephaloids, could work to their full potential.

Floating in zero-g, you pressed the Cephaloid communication button the your wrist. “Permission to come on to the bridge, Commander LightWater?”

As you spoke, the holographic screen in front of Commander LightWater glowed with words written in Cephaloid script. A moment later, the mechanical voice, the voice that spoke for their species, droned, “Granted.”

You nodded, pushing off the wall and let yourself float towards the Commander as he floated in his self contained hydro-station, his arms on several different consoles, making sure that different functions were running smoothly.

The Cephaloid were unlike any other species humans had met. They were certainly the most unique (though the Azikil certainly gave them a run for their money).

They were similar to the cephalopods of Earth, cuttlefish, octopuses, etc. Like their genetic long-distant, Earth-bound, cousins, they were mainly soft, with only a solid beak and they needed to live in water. Unlike their cousins, they were… far more advance. With a dozen suckered arms and a pseudo-shell (protective but still rather pliant) like a squid, they were by far the most visually unique. Given the fact they had adapted to survive in the dark waters of their home world, commonly known as Atlantis, they had unique characteristics. To communicate, they used body language (changing colors and skin texture) and a form of telepathy, a form of communication that could only be used between themselves.

It was because of the Cephaloid that humans realized that there needed to be a program, a system, put in place to help guarantee peace. It took hundreds of years, but eventually, your species were able to communicate— humans would speak and the written form of their language (Cephaloid script) would appear on a monitor near them, and so long as the Cephaloid had an implant (a device provided by the Ovitari) their thoughts, mostly, could be converted to an auditory form of communication.

You floated up to the observation window, next to LightWater as he started initiating slow down procedures. Jaehwan floated to the other side of LightWater, startling him (if the sudden defensive stance and flash of red and white stripes, textured by his skin tensing into short spines were anything to go by).

“Lee, you are suppose to announce yourself on the bridge.”

“Yeah, Yeah. I’m sorry.”

While the sarcasm was obvious to you, you weren’t sure if LightWater could sense it as the words displayed themselves on before him. LightWater addressed you. “While tone is lost when we communicate, I believe that there was… sarcasm to his answer? Correct?”

You laughed as Jaehwan just shook his head in defeat. LightWater turned his emotionless gaze at you. Perhaps to others he would seem unfeeling, but having grown up on a human outpost on Atlantis, you could read their body language rather well. The slight shade of yellow, different from the neutral orange he mainly took on, told you that he was seeking some form of approval. “Yes, that is correct, LightWater.”

LightWater made a motion of acknowledgement before turning back to his console, his color turning to a muted cool brown. “We’re beginning slow down procedures already. I have yet to receive communication from the Bandisbul about docking procedures.”

You hummed your understanding, staring out into the endless void as Jaehwan made light conversation.

When traveling at speeds greater than light… there was no light. It was dark. Just pure blackness. It was lonely. So lonely. Sometimes, you weren’t sure how LightWater and the other Cephaloids did it. It had to be lonely up here most of the time, especially in the black. But you supposed that since their eyes were shaped differently from your own, it wasn’t too much to imagine that he didn’t just see eternal blackness. What they saw though… that would always remain a mystery to your kind, you were sure.

At about the two hour mark before the rendezvous, off in the distance, a single prick point of light slowly started to glow: the Gamma Tau star. As time went on, more and more stars regained their sparkle in the endless sea of darkness. Slowing down even further, planets and their moons added their own glows, some brilliant white, others varying hues.

“Entering the system’s outermost orbit. We should be getting the docking instructions soon. I suggest making your farewells and gathering your things.”

You reached through the hydro-barrier that contained LightWater. In return, LightWater took your hand in one of his arms. The sensation was odd, the suckers pinching at the skin of your hand and wrist affectionately. “I’ll stop by here again before I leave… old friend.”

As you withdrew your hand from the water, LightWater used his siphon to playfully shoot a small stream of water at you. The water, having just enough to force to break through the low resistance hydro-barrier, hit you squarely in the face. Jaehwan laughed at your expense as you wiped the water from your face. LightWater had the gaul to change to a deep vibrant green. Cheeky bastard.

“And I will miss you. Especially since you’re the only human that does not scream when engaging in a little squirting.”

You cringed on the inside. Jaehwan and several of the other Jacks you had trained with over the past few years took a rather accurate and naive term that you grew up with and turned it into something… else. You made a mental note to yourself to work on finding an alternative word to add to the Cephaloid-International Human Language (IHL) dictionary.

You and Jawhwan bid LightWater a final farewell before pushing off towards the ladder that would lead you out of the bridge.

Once you were back in the low level gravity rings, you both headed back to your room. “Stop it, Jaehwan.”

“Stop what?”

“I know you’re smirking.”

“What? How?”

“You get weirdly quiet.”

“What? I can’t help it. You’re the only human I know that that’s close with the Cephaloid.”

You rolled your eyes at that as you opened your room. “Like you’re one to talk. Who’s the one who was flirting with the Mengolki twins not too long ago?”

Jaehwan shot you a dirty look as he went towards his bunk, opening the cabinets below and above his bunk. You did the same on your side as you continued, “Besides, LightWater and I grew up together. I’m… I’m going to really miss him.”

Jaehwan didn’t miss the way you paused. “You’re worried that this will be the last time you see him, huh?”

You turned back towards Jaehwan. His gaze was soft and sympathetic. He may be a bit of an attention seeking man-whore, but at the end of the day he was one of the most empathetic, kind souls you knew. “He’s getting up there in age and distinction. When he returns to Atlantis… he’ll be offered the right to breed… and he’ll be gone. Forever.”

Jaehwan pursed his lips, dropping one of the bags on his bunk. Stepping over to your side of the room, he pulled you into a hug. “I know. But at the end of the day, that’s the way of his people. There are certain things that can’t be changed. You know that.”

You sighed angrily, returning Jaehwan’s hug, your fists twisting at the fabric of his muted teal jumpsuit. “Still doesn’t mean I can’t be upset.”

“I know. I know.”

You stayed like that for a moment before pushing off him gently, turning back to your stuff. Jaehwan did the same. As the two of you finished getting your things together, Jaehwan said, “You know… if you need some comforting….”

His tone left his meaning open ended. Either he was propositioning you for sex… or he was offering to use his ‘cute attacks’ that he’d use to get his way with others. Typically, making them feel good about giving into him, but that was besides the point.

Shaking your head, you called out, “ARGUS, engage privacy.”

The computer system, ARGUS, make an electric noise of acknowledgement, before it engaged the privacy screen that separated your side of your shared quarters from Jaehwan’s. Its hydraulics whirring as it disengaged from within the wall. “Get dressed, Ken-doll. We gotta look smart in our uniforms.”

You could hear Jaehwan grumbling from the other side of the screen. He hated that nickname. Chuckling to yourself, you began changing into your Jack blues.

While not a military program, the Human Ambassadorial Program (HAP) realized early on that the best structure and the best training could be achieved by combining civilian and military tactics.

You reminisced some of your earlier years as you pulled your uniform out of the only enclave that was designed specifically for dress blues. Training was hard. They pushed your physical limits, needing to make sure that you could physically handle any inhabitable planetary environment imaginable.

As you undressed out of your jumpsuit, your eyes landed on the small depressed scar on your right thigh from where you had your nano-antibodies injected. Your stomach clenched at the memory. It was the only time you ever considered dropping from the program: you body fought the anti-bodies for a lot longer than it should’ve. You weren’t sure if you were going to survive that month from how hard your body tried to get rid of them.

Once down to your underwear, you began dressing in your blues.

It wasn’t necessarily a military uniform, not in the conventional sense. When dressing, it didn’t have to be perfect, there were no dress checks, your hair could touch your collar, and make up was allowed, though you knew few Jacks who actually wore any. Instead, you just had to be professional in appearance.

You wore a white button up, with black buttons. Over it, you wore an intense navy blue asymmetrical vest, making sure your lapels were pressed down firmly as you attached your Jack insignia (a four-pointed star with a ‘J’ covering the intersection of a paint brush, a back hoe, a graduated cylinder and a pen) to the left one, right over your heart. Once you were satisfied with it, you slipped on a pair of comfortable black tights, then shimmied into your matching blue skirt. Once your were satisfied that the skirt didn’t rotate too much as you shimmied into it and twisted yourself to reach the zipper, you slipped on your issued black loafers. ‘Practical, not sexy,’ you reminded yourself as you slipped them on, remembering the phrase your first mentor drilled into you when there were complaints about uniforms in training.

Before putting on your jacket, you quickly styled your hair into a fashionable bun. ‘Practical, but a little attractive,’ you mused to yourself. Being a Jack, you had to learn quickly that being attractive was a secondary thought when it came to appearances. The first was professionalism. Making sure your hair and the light makeup you wore were all in order, you grabbed your blade from the confines of under your bunk, your fingers making contact with the cold leather of its sheath first.

Officially, the blade was ceremonial— a symbol of status, that you’d graduated from being a novice to a full-fledged Jack. Each blade was unique, designed by the Jacks that trained you. A welcoming gift of sorts.

In your hand, you withdrew the blade from its sheath, setting the knife down on your bunk. You took a moment to admire the black leather sheath, letting your fingers smooth over the subtle filigree that decorated around the Jack oath ’Amicus— Autem Semper Praesidium.’

‘A friend— but always a guardian.’

After a moment, you took the sheath and attached it to the loop at the top of your skirt designed for it on your dominant side. Once you were sure the sheath was secure (it was difficult to attach it with the blade in it), you grabbed the knife.

Your blade was Damascus steel, the sharp, curved edge and the ripples in the metal gleamed in the harsh artificial light of your room. The blade itself was not particularly long, only spanning the length of your palm. But it didn’t have to long— just effective.

You couldn’t find anything wrong with the blade itself since the last time you checked it, moving on to the hilt. The finger guard was simple, but a little more prominent than what you’ve seen on other Jacks’ blades. At first it made you ashamed, thinking that it was an indirect way of saying you were clumsy. But now— now, it just meant you could defend yourself for longer, if the need arose. The handle was just as beautiful and as practical as the blade. The hilt was the perfect length for your hand. The smooth, black lacquered hilt was covered in an azure cord wrap, reminiscent of the ancient Earth katana. Practical, yet beautiful.

Once you tested the balance, you deemed it in perfect condition and slipped it into its sheath at your hip.

Once you were sure your knife was attached securely to your hip, you finally put on your navy blue jacket. Most of your pins were already on it, but a few, you took on and off constantly, those were the most precious— you didn’t want to risk losing them unnecessarily. Once you added the rest of your pins, you called out, “ARGUS, disengage privacy.”

ARGUS once again made a noise of acknowledgment before retracting the privacy screen. As the screen retracted, you turned around to see Jaehwan also ready, leaning against the side of his bunk, the chrome sheath of his own knife at his hip twinkling in the light. His uniform was similar to your own, with a few key differences.

For one, being male, he instead wore a pair of slacks in the same shade of blue as your skirt. The collars of his vest and shirt and lapels of his jacket were replaced by mandarin collars, a design element to distinguish between places of origin: you being from the U.A.F., and him being from G.A.L. His own Jack insignia was placed on his collar.

You both looked each other up and down.

“Spiffy. Ready to go, Savant?”

You rolled your eyes, barely keeping the small curl of a smile from your lips.

You supposed you deserved that after calling him his dreaded nickname. He just had to call you yours from your training days.

Picking up your bags, you headed towards the door. “Can it. Just remember: I out rank you.”

There was no real bite to your tone, but if he was going to call you Savant, well, you might as take it a step further and remind him that while younger, you out rank him both in merits and time-based seniority. He only outranked you in age and height.

Jaehwan laughed as he was quick to follow you on your heels with his own bags in hand. “If that’s how we’re gonna play, I’m going to put everything I can as high as I can in the residence once we get planet side.”

Without missing beat, you replied, “Try that and find yourself quickly taken out at the kneecaps.”

Jaehwan only laughed, making you smirk as the two of you continued to lug around you bags. Luckily, the two of you didn’t get too far before you ran into a couple of the human crew. You smiled.

“Ahh, Lieutenant Carter!”

Lieutenant Carter looked you over, returning your smile. “I see you two are ready for departure already.”

Jaehwan replied, “Believe it. I can’t wait to have a bath. A real bath.”

You sighed blissfully in agreement. “And sunlight. Actual sunlight. No more vitamin D transfusions.”

“Noise— anything other than that drone of the ship,” Jaehwan mused, his gaze far off in the distance.

“Food… real food….”

Being Jacks, you and Jaehwan weren’t necessarily meant to stay space side for long. You trained on all sorts of terrain— connecting with nature in a way that you were sure most, humans or otherwise, wouldn’t appreciate.

Ensign Tanaka laughed. “It sounds like the two of you can’t wait to make it planet side.”

Jostling one of your bags back onto your shoulder, you replied, “There are Jacks that go their entire lives without ever even hearing of a Phase 2 mission, let alone actually going on one. The fact that we can do this… it’s a once in a lifetime mission.”

Ensign Tanaka’s eyes softened as she smiled. Lieutenant Carter coughed. “If you two would like, we can take your bags to the transfer hold. I’m sure you guys want to see the Bandisbul as soon as possible.”

The pair of them were already taking your bags as you replied, “If it’s not too much trouble.”

As he slung Jaehwan’s heavier bag over his shoulder, Carter replied, “It’s no trouble at all. If we were you, we’d probably want a first look, too.”

Jaehwan grabbed your arm, dragging you behind him towards the bridge as you shouted your thanks back.

A few minutes later, you and Jaehwan found yourselves floating in zero g on the bridge. Sarcastically, Jaehwan asked, “Permission to come on to the bridge, Commander LightWater?”

The mechanical voice replied, “Permission granted, Jacks. We should be in visual range of the Bandisbul soon.”

You and Jaehwan made your way to the Commander, looking out into the blackness. Well, not pure blackness. The stars were bright and the blue-purple haze of the gas planet, Gamma Tau 4 illuminated the eternal blackness. The sight was unbelievable.

“It looks like you two have joined me just in time. The Bandisbul should be breaching the planet’s horizon… now.”

He was right. Emerging from the haze of the gas planet, over the horizon, there was a small object— nothing more than a spec. But it grew larger and larger, its shape becoming more distinguished. It lost it’s reflective glow, initially making it white. Instead, it turned into a more of a grey-red. And its shape— it first, it was hard to distinguish— you weren’t sure if the light refractions were playing with your mind.

“Jaehwan… are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“If you’re seeing an… angular ship. Then yes, I’m seeing the same thing.”

Chills started going up your spine. “Didn’t the records say that they had gravity on their ships? Shouldn’t it be round? Even if it’s just internal rings spinning, it should be still round.”

LightWater answered, “Yes. The files the mining base shared said that they were capable of artificial gravity.”

Jaehwan muttered, almost to himself as he held out his thumb and squinting, getting a rough idea of its size, “It’s not big enough to have to internal rings to produce gravity… no matter how I look at it. And it be impractical….”

ARGUS chirped over the intercom, Cephaloid script appearing on the console in front of LightWater. LightWater said, “The Bandisul is now in close enough range for visual communication. Shall I open communications?”

Your heart rate spiked. Your mouth went dry. Your first contact. Swallowing, you nodded. “Yes, please.”

LightWater turned a calming yellow as he opened the channel.

The face that appeared on the holographic panel at the top of the observation window surprised you. You knew the Ingan were very similar to humans, practically genetic cousins. But you didn’t appreciate just how true that was.

She was rather beautiful, her face hardened by life experiences but beautiful nonetheless. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve assumed she had come from Earth.

She had a strong jaw and an angular nose. Her red-tinted skin was relatively pale from the obvious lack of sunlight except for the darker lines that etched her skin, almost as if she had been sketched, the artist wanting to emphasize her contours. You could tell that on Jigui, where her skin could be warmed by sunlight, her skin would glow. You were a bit jealous actually. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a series of complicated braids, a few strands of silvering hair peaking through that mass of braids. Her charcoal grey eyes studied you, just as you had her.

Clearing your throat, you introduced yourself as the Senior Jack in Gaganis, the dominant language of Jigui. “And this is Lee Jaehwan, my fellow Jack from Earth. This is Commander LightWater from Atlantis. We are please to have meet you.”

Your words weren’t nearly as eloquent as you had liked them to be. You had spent nearly a year learning the limited Gaganis inputed into the interplanetary language library, but even so, it wasn’t an easy language to learn— with sounds that you as a human had no vocal range for and a vocabulary far more expansive than any other species. The written language was easy, an alphabet of sorts and a grammatical structure similar to the structure of the IHL. But pronunciation was a completely different matter entirely.

There was a pause after you had finished your introduction— spacial delay— before she quipped an eyebrow. “I was told that the Senior Jack was gifted with languages. But I had not expected you to be able to grasp as much of our language as you seem to.”

You were elated at her compliment, but you were careful not to show it. She continued, “I am Captain Vadovas of the Bandisbul. We look forward to hosting you on the journey back to Jigui.”

Smiling, you replied, “We look forward to it very much. And thank you, Captain, for came to pick us up.”

Another pause, then she nodded. “We should be arriving shortly. You should’ve already received out docking trajectory. Bandisbul out.”

She glanced off screen and nodded, the feed going dark immediately.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, completely deflating and slightly pushing yourself backwards in zero-g. Jaehwan began clapping. “Well done.”

Rolling your eyes, you replied, “I guess we should start making our way to the docking bay.”

Jaehwan nodded sadly. “I’m going to miss this place.”

You patted his arm. “Me too. But we’ve been wanting this forever.”

He hummed in agreement. “We… We really should be getting back there.”

Jaehwan had already pushed himself off one of the walls towards the bridge hatch. He looked back at you when you didn’t immediately follow. “You go on ahead. I gotta say goodbye.”

LightWater eyed you curiously, his whole body lightly changed to a paler color, his nerves getting to him. As soon as Jaehwan was through the hatch, you muttered. “I’m going to miss you.”

“As am I. You are the only human I know that is tolerable.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

LightWater flashed a defensive red. He may not have been able to understand your tone, but he’s clearly picked up on one or two things about human body language. “I am reaching the end of my life cycle. I either die passing on my genes to the next generation. Or I die without completing the greatest mission one of my kind can do.”

“I know!” You sighed in defeat. “I know…. I just don’t want this to be our final farewell, old friend.”

He didn’t respond immediately. His coloring turned a more muted shade of orange— almost brown. A moment later, he extended one arm out towards you, breaching the barrier of his oversized water droplet. It took a moment before you realized what he was doing. Your eyes grew large, realizing what he was doing.

You took off your jacket and rolled up your sleeve. You offered up your hand to him. He grabbed your arm gently, the suckers pulling you towards him. Your hand entered the water and you made eye contact with him.

This was… an act of trust. Typically performed at a formal event, this was a test. A test of trust and friendship. Very few Cephaloids trusted any of the other races to touch them— they weren’t a particularly affectionate species to begin with. And for humans, at the very least, Cephaloids scared us on an instinctual level— they were predators, dangerous. Alien.

He wanted to use this act as a good-bye.

With your arm elbow deep in the water, you watched as LightWater wrapped his arm around your own, the suckers gripping your arm even more tightly, preparing for you to reflectively fight him. You wouldn’t deny it— letting your hand being dragged closer to his razor sharp beak was… a little terrifying. But you trusted him. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

His mechanical voice startled you. “This may be the last time we meet in this life— but we will meet in the next. Our bond is proof that.”

You smiled gently at him, eyes watering a bit. Always the sentimental. Your gaze fell to where your arm was wrapped in his, watching as your hand made contact with the smooth, hard surface of his beak. He opened his mouth, bringing your hand to it. Your heart rate spiked, every instinct in you tell you it was dangerous like this. But in the back of your mind, you had to remind yourself, he was probably scared: his own instincts telling him that you were a threat.

His hold on your arm let up, letting you move your hand freely. You let him enclose his beak slightly around your finger. The feeling reminded you of when a bird bit at your finger, probably thinking it was a worm or something other food. The only difference was that this beak was much larger and the touch much gentler.

A moment later LightWater let go of you completely, letting you slip your finger from his beak as you blinked, your tears floating away in zero-g. Just before you were about to slip your hand out of the barrier, you affectionately squeezed his arm. He didn’t flinch, nor did he flash a bright red in warning. Instead, he shifted to a gentle green, his skin completely smooth and relaxed. He trusted you completely.

You shook the fine layer of water that stuck to your arm away, letting the droplets fly around in the bridge. Inspecting your arm, your could already see the circular bruises from where his suckers pinched your skin. Your arm would be tender for a while, but the red splotches were strangely beautiful— artistic.

Reaching for the sheath at your hip, you withdrew your knife. You brought the knife to the back of your head, your free hand pulling a single lock from your bun at the base of your hairline. Carefully, you cut the lock. Re-sheathing your knife, you offered the lock of hair to LightWater.

“I don’t have… a telepathic image I can give you like your people would in final good-byes. Instead, I offer up a moment of our childhood.” You laughed. “You and the others would often pull out clumps of my hair if I ever got too close to you on Atlantis. I had always thought you hated me. It took me a while but I finally learned that it wasn’t to bully me. But rather it was just some dumb children who were curious and didn’t know their strength. So… I give it to you.”

LightWater gazed at you blankly for a moment before reaching out through the barrier once again, taking the lock from you. “I will… protect it. Until we meet again in the next life. I will… miss you.”

You could barely control the sniffle. “And I’ll miss you.”

“I may not be able to join you at the docking bay, but I will watch from here. And know that I will always watch you.”

“I feel safer already. Thank you, LightWater.”

LightWater flashed an array of colors, greens, purples and brown. No more word needed to be exchanged— it was too hard.

Grabbing your jacket, you pushed off towards the hatch for the last time. As you floated past the hydro-barrier, you let your fingers dance across them, creating ripples. LightWater watched you until you were completely through the hatch.

Back on the gravity rings, you cleaned up your face a bit and re-dressed yourself properly. Crying would come later. You had a job to do.

It took longer than you had meant, but you finally made it to the docking port. Jaehwan, along with a few other crewmen were there, waiting for you.

“You’re late.”

“They haven’t clamped on. I’m fine.”

“You’re a shit liar you know that, right?”

You glared up at Jaehwan, getting ready to shoot him a snarky reply when the klaxon sounded, signaling that the Bandisbul has latched onto the Hermes’ docking port. After the klaxon has sounded three times, the doors, separating the two ships opened.

Your heart thundered in your chest. Your first meeting, face to face. As the doors opened, your gaze fell first on Captain Vadovas. She was… shorter than you thought. Then you realized that the small entourage behind her was also shorter than you expected. ‘Higher gravity world,’ you reminded yourself.

Both you and Jaehwan bowed (something the Jacks discovered was universally non-insulting) as Captain Vadovas stepped onto the Hermes.

“Welcome, Captain Vadovas to the U.I.S. Hermes.”

She nodded. “I am glad to be on board. It is good to finally see you both in person.”

Vadovas looked over the two of you, her gaze piercing. You noted that she looked over Jaehwan far more incredulously than she did you. And honestly, you couldn’t blame her. Even amongst humans, Jaehwan was on the taller side. With angular, expressively eyebrows arching over dark, mischievous, almond eyes and full, pink lips that quipped up cutely, he was beautiful. You always thought it was odd but his large nose balanced out the rest of his face— rather than taking away from the rest of his features, it enhanced them.

“The same, Captain.”

Turning to her right slightly, Vadovas signaled for the man behind her to step forward. “This will be your guide Jigui.”

She then said his name. You knew that you would eventually run into this problem sooner or later… you just didn’t expect it to come so soon. His name was a series of sounds— sounds that came in vastly different pitches and in such a quick concession that a human could never hope to be able to pronounce it. The male at Captain Vadovas’ side smiled kindly at you, probably noting the brief moment of panic of your face— you were never good at masking it according to Jaehwan.

His voice was rougher, deeper than you thought it be. “For now you can just call me, ‘Guide.’”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jaehwan gape at him. “You speak IHL?!”

Captain Vadovas smirked. She clearly didn’t speak IHL, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t read the situation. “Yes, he speaks your language. When your… library was sent over, he studied it, making sure that he could communicate with you and to help clarify things.”

“Thank you…” you paused, considering to make an attempt at his name, but quickly chose against it. “Guide. That will help greatly.”

“Of course. I look forward to our time together.”

His gaze was intense— the smaller pupils of his eyes making the russet color of his eyes more intense, just adding weight to his already heavy gaze. The only word that you could think to describe his gaze was… bright. It made you feel nervous… but not necessarily in a bad way.

Captain Vadovas cleared her throat, gathering your attention. “Now that you’ve been officially introduced, I’d like to make way. I believe most of your equipment was sent when you were initially suppose to arrive.”

Your guide confirmed, “Yes. Your equipment is being stored at the Science Institute of Shistanp. Are these bags yours? Is this all you’re bringing on board?”

“Yes. We ca—“

Before you finish your sentence, let alone reach for your bags that had been neatly put away against the wall, your new guide grabbed all four of the bags. As you sputtered, trying to explain that he didn’t have to carry them, he just smirked at you and was already on his way back through the hatch, the rest of the entourage following behind him, almost chasing after him. As if they intended to stop him.

Vadovas chuckled, muttering something under her breath that you did not catch. She turned back to you. “Forgive him. He’s always been a little… over zealous. I ask that you make you final goodbyes before we depart.”

She followed your guide back through the hatch, waiting for you just beyond it.

Jaehwan broke the short revery of silence. “Interesting people.”

You glared at him. “You followed only every other word, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m surprised I got that much. Given that,” he brought his fist to his mouth, making an exaggerated cough. “I failed my rudimentary language test, like what, three times.”

You scoffed. “You’ll pick it up in no time. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“Thanks. Anyways, you got anyone you need to say goodbye to?”

You showed him your hand, the circular bruises already blooming purple from the back of your hand and trailing around and up your wrist and arm. “I’ve said mine. You?”

Jaehwan smiled sadly at you after looking back at the few crewmen who had gathered to see the Ingan. “Already did. Let’s not keep them waiting any longer than necessary.”

You nodded in agreement as the two of you headed for the hatch.

Just before making that step first step onto the Ignan ship, you looked back. The docking bay was empty (the crewmen already having dispersed now that they had to prepare for detachment)— sterile— but it held so many memories. For just a short while— this was home.

“You coming, Savant?”

You sighed, stifling a laugh. “Yeah. I’m coming, Ken-doll.”

Pulling the docking door shut, you secured it, sealing your future. Turning back around, you joined Jaehwan and Vadovas. It didn’t hit you immediately until after you shut the hatch, but the artificial gravity was higher here, the increased pressure constricting your lungs a bit— your first taste of what it would be like on Jigui.

“Your guide has gone to drop your bags off at the cabins you will be staying for the remainder of the voyage. If you would like, we can do a tour of the Bandisbul. And then dinner in the captain’s mess.”

You nodded. “That sounds wonderful, Captain.”

She smiled, nodding. “This way. We’ll make our way to the bridge first to watch the detach.”

You nodded your understanding before repeating what she just said, to Jaehwan. To which he immediately nodded his head excitedly.

Following the captain towards the bridge, you took note of how similar the inside of the Bandisbul was to human ships. Jaehwan was like a kid in a candy shop, his gaze large and starry-eyed taking in every detail.

The three of you stopped when a voice called out for the Captain. Turning you were met with the sight of your guide joining you. He was a little out of breath but otherwise, fine. “Your bag are in your cabins.”

“Thank you very much. The Captain was just about to take us on a tour.”

“Great! I’ll join you.”

Captain Vadovas exclaimed, “Excellent.”

She continued to lead the way to the bridge. Following behind her, you now had the chance to sneak a couple of good glances at your guide.

Your guide had a slightly stocky build with wide shoulders, filling his uniform (a garment that seemed similar to a jumpsuit like you wore on the Hermes) out nicely. He wasn’t particularly tall (not like Jaehwan was), but he also wasn’t short, still standing quite a bit taller than Captain Vadovas. And he wasn’t quite as pale as the Captain either, whether that was his natural complexion or if he been recently exposed to sunlight, you weren’t sure. His skin was also lightly tinged a red tone.

Like Vadovas, his skin was covered in patterns, except… his were lighter in color and you could only see them peaking out from under his sleeves and collar of his uniform. Since the marking stopped at the underside of his jaw, you would have almost thought he was human.

Emphasis on the almost.

Following the contour of his high cheekbones and temples, along his sharp jawline, were lines of iridescent skin. As they reflected the sterile light of the corridor, their color, the way they shifted slightly with color with his every step— from blue to green to purple to white and back again— reminded you a little of the abalone shell your father found on one of his geological expeditions. It was… odd. But incredibly beautiful.

The blue of his markings complimented his round, russet eyes. Long eyelashes (Mother Nature was cruel: readily gifting long eyelashes to the males of any species) hid the deep creases of his eyes. Strong, angular eyebrows balanced the gentle curve of the markings along his temples. You thought his nose was round, like a button nose from the front, but from the profile, it was straight as an arrow. Below his nose, his lips were thin, but surprisingly soft looking given then he’s been in the extremely dry environment of a spaceship.

His umber brown hair was cut in a style that the closest analogy you could find was an undercut. The hair left longer was tied back in a topknot, giving him a clean, but almost aggressive appearance.

You glanced away sheepishly as he looked your way, probably feeling the weight of your glances on him. After a moment, you hesitantly glanced back up at him again. He was smiling a bit, smile lines emphasizing the contour of his lips and jawline. You couldn’t help how your cheeks flushed red briefly as you realized he had caught you staring at him.

Sooner than you expected, you arrived at the bridge. As you entered, the crewmen, a total of three that you could see, turned to stare at you and Jaehwan. You swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous under the weight of their curious stares. Captain Vadovas introduced the two of you to the crew. Once introductions were in order, she ordered for them to detach. You and Jaehwan were led over to the observation window. The pair of you watched, wide-eyed.

It was a strange feeling. The Hermes had been your home for almost half a year. As the Bandisbul detached, it hit you just how fast the rings of the Hermes rotated as the Bandisbul detached in a straight trajectory. The two of you stood there is awed silence as the Hermes became smaller and smaller, the further out you flew towards Jigui.

Once it was out of sight, the two of you rejoined Captain Vadovas and your guide. “Shall we begin the tour?”

“Yes.”

Captain Vodovas led you all around the ship, her and your guide explain everything the best they could. Like most other spaceships, it was compact and designed for efficiency. Slightly different though in purpose from what you were used to. The Bandisbul was built to transport miners to and from the astroid belt back to their home planet once they’ve completed their circuit.

Some stops were short, such as finding the head of the ship, very important, especially since you felt like you’d need to relieve yourself soon. Other stops were longer… much longer. Jaehwan was in heaven in the engine room, staring at one of the greatest invention neither of you knew existed— a cold fusion reactor.

After much prodding and reminding him that there was food at the end of this, Jaehwan finally allowed you to pull him away from the ‘magical’ engine room. The tour continued on a little longer before you ended up at the captain’s mess.

Entering the room, you were surprised by how… intimate it was. It wasn’t overly decorated, but there was a tapestry on the wall. You walked over to it, admiring the weave. It was a simple scene, a cliff, crashing waves, and Jigui’s twin moons. “It’s beautiful… the detail amazing.”

“Thank you. It’s been in my family for several generations. Shall we?”

Captain Vadovas indicated for you to sit down as she took her own seat. It was a square table, each of you taking a side. As the four of you waited, your friendly guide made some idle small talk. You had often worried about your guide being stiff and cold like you had read about in the journals of past Jacks, but it seemed like you were blessed with that being false in this case.

While the conversation was a little awkward at first (idle chitchat not necessarily translating quite as nicely as you thought it would), you welcomed the distraction. Especially for Jaehwan.

Neither you nor Jaehwan were looking forward to another meal of dehydrated, packaged food— the gloriously named MRE (meal ready to eat), especially when it would be compromised of foods neither of you had ever seen.

A knock at the door caught your attention. As the Captain bade them to enter, a wonderful smell hit your nose. A wirey, small male entered, followed by a young female, each carrying a plate. As the plates were set down in front of you, you said your thanks to who you assumed was the head chef of the ship in Gaganis. The food in front of you was so familiar and yet, so different.

Steam rose from the roasted cutlet of meat— some of sort of poultry if the texture and shape were anything to go by. Covered in some spices, it smelled delicious. Next to it was a small pile of vegetables, also roasted and covered in herbs from the looks of them. The vegetables reminded you of some that you’d seen on Earth: turnips, peas, rhubarb, and onion. There was also a piece of what looked to be a flat bread with some unmilled grains of some kind that looked similar to oats.

As if yours and Jaehwan’s stomach shared one mind, they roared their demands in sync with each other. Your cheeks flushed red and from the corner of your eye, you could see the way Jaehwan’s ears turned scarlet as the four Ingan turned to stare at you. Sheepishly, you tried to explain, “It’s… been a while since we saw real food.”

Your guide was the first to laugh, relaxing the atmosphere of the room immensely, getting the others to join in. Captain Vadovas smiled and said, “I was going to apologize for the similicity of your first Ingan meal… but it seems that I should never have worried.”

She turned to the male and asked him for something, you weren’t sure what though— you were too busy drooling over the food in front of you. As he and his assistant left, Captain Vadovas and your guide began eating. You and Jaehwan mimicked them, grabbing the utensil that looked like a fork, except that it was two pronged instead of four, and the great universal tool: a knife.

As you ate the first bit of meat, you couldn’t help but moan happily. It was so… good, the flavor being a cross between chicken and the tanginess of red meat.

Your guide laughed again. Turning red, you couldn’t help but shoot him a pointed look, forgetting for a moment that you were suppose to be cordial. He just gave you a lopsided goofy grin. “You act like you’ve never eaten food before.”

Mouth stuffed, Jaehwan answered, “After months of nothing by MREs this is like the food of the gods.”

Your guide inquired, “MREs?”

Between mouthfuls you explained, “Dehydrated, freeze dried food— Meals Ready to Eat. Exploratory vessels like the Hermes aren’t big enough to house a hydroponics bay, a cryo-static freezer, nor a real kitchen. So, we’re issued MREs instead. Disgusting but nutrient packed.”

Your guide made a face before going back to eating own meal, clearly much more… content with his meal than before.

Soon the crewmen from before returned, this time with bottles in hand. He handed each of you one and disappeared out of the room once more before you could express your thanks. Opening the bottle, you were glad to find it was water and not something else. You weren’t sure if your stomach could handle a new liquid on top of new solids. Especially after only eating MREs for months.

The conversation flowed easily and Jaehwan was becoming more and more confident, slowly picking up bits and pieces of Gaganis, just like you said he would.

As the dinner wrapped up, your guide asked, “What does ‘Jack’ mean? I cannot find it in the library.”

You replied, “It comes from an old Earth phrase, ‘jack of all trades, master of none.’ Jacks, as ambassadors of sorts, need to be skilled numerous different areas. Kind of as a means of not only being able understand numerous different parts of different cultures, but give perspectives that specialists might not see otherwise because they see the universe through just one lense. It’s also the best method of introduction. Having as few… aliens as possible on your planet at one time in the beginning has been the best course of action in the past when the Interplanetary Alliance meets new species. By only sending two representatives, but skilled in multiple areas, it’ll allow for easier and perhaps quicker integration if your people choose to join the I.A.”

His brows knit together, listening to you intently. You could tell he didn’t understand everything you said, but he seemed to understand enough. “A rather interesting phrase, I like it very much.”

He smiled at you and you returned the gesture. Captain Vadovas interrupted. “You must be tired. It will be a few days before we reach Jigui. Your guide will take you back to your cabin.”

As the four of you stood up, you said, “Thank you, Captain. Lead the way.”

Your guide smiled once more at you, holding out his hand, indicating for you and Jaehwan to leave first. Once out into the corridor, your guide led you through several halls until you arrived at a hall with four doors. “Since this is normally a mining transport vessel, each of you get your own room. Lee is over there,” he pointed to the door kitty corner from the door you stood in front of. “And you will be here.”

He pointed to the door you stood in front of. “I will be in that one if either of you need anything or wish to speak.”

Your guide pointed to the door directly opposite of your own and next to Jaehwan’s.

You smiled at him. “Thank you very much.”

“Of course.”

He bid you both goodbye before he entered his cabin. As soon as his heavy door closed, both you an Jaehwan relaxed. Jaehwan was the first to break the silence.

“He seems… nice.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. You knew that tone. It only meant trouble. “Why would you say it like that?”

Jaehwan hesitated before replying, “Male instinct. Goodnight.”

Before you could stop him to question him even further, he was already in his cabin. Under your breath you muttered, “Little shit.”

Entering your cabin, you noted that it was rather homey… for a space cabin that is. It was still nothing but a metal box. But there was an actual bed, not a mattress put on a set of cabinets to maximize space like you were used to. You could actually stretch out a bit. You could only imagine how excited Jaehwan must be not to have to sleep either on the ground if he wanted to stretch out, or in a fetal position on his bunk because of his height. There was a wooden desk tucked away in the corner.

Behind the desk was a beautiful tapestry of a dormant volcano, the slopes of it covered in green but the crater at the top of it remained ashen in color. The sleeping fiery titan sloped down across a valley filled with flowers you had never seen before. The valley ended abruptly with the sudden drop of a cliff, giving away to violent waves crashing up on it. In the sky, the sun hung high in the sky with the ghostly gleam of one of the moons hanging on the horizon.

You ran your fingers over the fine embroidery. So much detail and patience went into it… it was absolutely amazing.

Jostling yourself out of your admiration, you reminded yourself just how uncomfortable you had gotten in your uniform. Grabbing one of the bags your guide had placed on your bed, you pulled out your old t-shirt and cotton shorts. Both of them were Jack issued, but the t-shirt held a special place in your heart.

It was covered in little messages from your fellow Jacks— your friends. You traced over Miranda’s elegant hand writing, telling you how much she was going to miss you, how proud she was of you. You couldn’t help but smile at Jin’s blocky ‘chicken scratch.’ Rather than telling you he’d miss you, he just gave you a list of all the things you needed to remember to do to take care of yourself. Forever the mother hen.

As you read over each and every message, you eyes welled with tears. All the emotions that had been building up in you over the last few months finally gave way. Between saying goodbye to LightWater, leaving home, the stress of making a good first unofficial impression— the floodgates opened.

Clutching the shirt to your chest, you cried, letting all of it out. It was cathartic, just letting it all out in such a primal way. After what felt like far too long, you finally calmed down. Wiping the snot and tears from your face, you felt so much better. You felt like you could finally relax, like you could really breath for the first time today.

Once you had changed out of your uniform and dressed in your pajamas, you stood there, looking around the cabin that would be your space for the next few days. In a burst of restless energy, you felt incredibly awake. There wasn’t much do to in your cabin, so you slipped on your work shoes— the eternally useful tennis shoes— and left your cabin with tablet in hand.

You wondered around the ship, taking in every detail, making sure that you kept track of where you turned and when so you could get back to your cabin. After a while, found yourself in one of the few places on the ship with a view into the great blackness. It was like an observation deck of sorts, a bench was placed against a wall, the perfect height for viewing out the four feet across circular window.

As you sat there, you felt drawn in by the sight before you. On the horizon of sorts, you could see the astroid belt. The line of rock split the near blackness in two. Off in the distance, the only other identifiable body in the darkness was the Gamma Tau star, illuminating the astroid belt, making it sparkle.

Jigui wasn’t observable yet— the light of the star drowning it out at this distance.

It all looked familiar and yet… so different.

2,500 days— seven years before you’d be on your way back to Earth again.

You felt so small by the thought of being so far away from home for so long. And yet, you couldn’t help but be excited at the prospect of the unknown.

Chapter 2 <ACCESS DENIED>

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