#and then bosh is still here and i still have to work with him cause no one else will

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (pt 2)

tw: none, fluffy

wc: 2337

Part one!

Spencer almost ran every red light and stop sign on his drive home. He didn’t even put the radio on. The only music was the sound of his ragged breath and skyrocketing heart beat. It hadn’t sunk in for him yet that you were really, truly, gone. You had only called it quits a few weeks ago, and work was okay. Good even. Hotch was nice enough to split you guys up a lot, sending you with JJ or Derek and Spencer with the newest member, Alex Blake. In the few small interactions you had, the two of you were better than you had been during the last few months of your relationship. It was just like the old days, before everything went sour. He guessed that was just you faking how much pain you were really in, and he was right. He cursed himself for not noticing that either. 

He sat on his couch and opened up the box again to find envelope 1: 

“Okay, Hey Spence. I’ll try not to be so long winded, but bear with me throughout this. I want you to really understand what happened between us. 

These are going to go chronologically, so the story starts before we even started dating. The story starts the day I realized I loved you. November 17, 2010. So please take out: 

1. Welcome Interstate Managers- Fountains of Wayne. 

Please direct your attention to track 3. Stacy’s Mom. This may be my favorite memento from us. It’s so innocent. We were so innocent then, but not anymore.”

He took the disk out and ran his hands over the case. It had never been opened and still had the plastic film on it. He flipped it over and read the track list to find #3, ‘Stacy’s Mom’. He immediately knew where this was going. The memory hit him like a sack of bricks, knocking the air out of him and making it hard to breathe. 

“This also may be one of my favorites because it’s so not you. No one would think that Stacy’s Mom of all songs would be so important to us. But it is, because it was the beginning. 

We had just gotten back from that weird, awful case in LA. The one where the taxi driver had the weird smell thing and would remove skin from the victim’s feet? And Emily was being suspicious? Yeah, we had just gotten back from that one and Derek and I had each given you $50 to finish the paperwork for us. We were joking around and arguing about basketball of all things. I don’t have an eidetic memory but I remember that day so clearly. 

“Is this really the hill you want to die on Derek Morgan?” I said. 

“Yes, Y/N, Michael Jordan will always be the best basketball player of all time,” Derek said back.

“I’m just saying Lebron or Kobe could definitely pass him at some point! Especially now that Lebron’s on the Heat. Him, Wade, and Bosh are going to kill it.” 

“Why do you know so much about basketball Y/N?”

You weren’t paying attention to us. You were doing the work we should have been doing. You always were the good one, Spence. When Em or D  or I would go off the rails, you always kept it together. I admire you for that. I had a crush on you at the time. It wasn’t full blown yet, but it was enough to make me flustered and blushing any time I was near you. 

I told Derek that I was a pretty big basketball fan because my brother had drilled it all into me when I was a kid. He scoffed and told me I didn’t seem like the sporty type. 

“Well not everyone can kick down a door in one move like you, but I’m pretty athletic!” I argued. 

“Athletic? C’mon Y/L/N, Hotch keeps you and Reid at the stations for a reason. You’re not a bad shot but your specialty is interrogation.”

I faked offense, being dramatic as usual. But, really I was a little hurt and D could tell. You had finished the paperwork then, and handed both of us files. 

“Do you think I’m athletic?” I asked you. 

You smiled shyly, “I mean, you’re not the most athletic but you’re not bad.”

“See?” Derek said, and I shoved him playfully. 

“I’m not exactly athletic either,” You said, and you did the tongue thing that you don’t even know you do. The one where you poke it out of one side of your mouth. It makes me a little weak in the knees. 

“I was bad at everything at the Academy Y/N.”

“Yeah? Like what?” I asked, “You’re good at everything.” Derek laughed, but I meant it. You are good at everything.

“Marksmanship, physical training, obstacle course, Hogan's Alley, you know, pretty much everything that wasn't technically book related. They ultimately had to make exceptions to allow me into the field.” You admitted, getting a sheepish smile on your face.”

Spencer stopped reading then, and wiped his eyes. He had allowed a few tears to fall as he read. He remembered this day so fondly. You guys have always been friends; the whole team is a family. But you always stuck more around Emily and Derek when you could. You worked with Spencer well, it wasn’t that you didn’t like him. In hindsight, you avoided him because of your crush on him. The thought made a smile creep up on his face. It was a watery smile, but still a smile. At that time in his life he was so insecure and unsure of himself but you always made him feel validated. When he would go on his rambling tangents about weird facts you always smiled and nodded when the others tuned him out. He needed that then, and, honestly, still needs it now. 

All of you, especially Spencer, were still reeling from the loss of JJ to the state department. It was a constant reminder of how quickly everything could fall apart. So, he needed good memories, good days. Days like November 17. A few of his tears smeared the ink and mixed with your dried tear stains. He sighed, how did he get here, only being close to you through mixed tears? He shook the thoughts away and kept reading. 

“This is a long one, sorry Spence, but the backstory is important I think. So anyways, we handed in the paperwork you did for us and we all went down to the parking garage together. Derek got in his car and left, probably to meet some girl of the week. Emily was gone, she was still being weird, which we all learned about later. Rossi? Hotch? Garcia? Who knows where they were. All that mattered was you and me, laughing about how not athletic we are as we made our way to our cars that we parked next to each other every day. I don’t even remember how we started the parking thing, but if I got there and I saw your car I made sure to be next to it. And you did the same. Somehow it made me feel safe. And of course, that day your car wouldn’t start. So I graciously tried to help you jump it, but still nothing. You reeled off the facts of how jumping a car works, but alas that did not get your crappy sedan to start. The two of us trying to fix a car is about as ridiculous as it gets. After our third jump attempt we gave up and I said I’d drive you home and we would get Derek to help us fix it tomorrow. You agreed and got in the passenger seat. There was crap everywhere, there always was. You always hated that. 

“How do you have like eight outfits just in the car?” You asked, tossing a dress into the back seat. 

“I have to always be prepared,” I said back, stifling a laugh. 

“Oh? And what does this prepare you for?” You asked me, holding up a tank that would barely cover my chest. 

I grabbed it from you and blushed. I was so embarrassed I didn’t know what to say. 

“I’m kidding Y/N,” You said and we both laughed. It felt so right. So comfortable. 

You had on a very Spencer Reid outfit that day. Purple dress shirt, dark blue cardigan, purple and blue tie. You’re striking. Derek doesn’t lie when he calls you ‘Pretty boy’.

But anyways, before I fall back in love with you just by descriptions—“

He had to put the paper down then. It hurt. Every word hurt. You’d fallen out of love with him? You said the last rule was he had to remember that you loved him. You did love him, you just weren’t in love with him anymore. There is very big difference. He thought he may throw up again but he took a few deep breaths, the same way you taught him to when he’d get overwhelmed, and kept going. 

“We were sitting there and I started driving and I turned the radio up. You made that face, you always do when I put on top hits. 

“Sorry I don’t have a lot of Beethoven,” I joked at a red light. You looked over at me, and we made eye contact, which caused my breath to catch in my throat. 

“It’s alright,” You cleared your throat, “I know every word to every song I’ve ever heard, so I can follow along.”

“Okay, what’s this one?” I challenged, turning up the radio. 

“Rolling in the Deep, Adele” 

We played that game for a while. You guessing songs and me laughing. You got every single one right. 

“Oh! I need to turn this one up! I love this song!” I said. It was the very beginning of Stacy’s Mom. 

“Sing with me, Genius.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not singing! I-I can’t sing!”

“Too late, it’s starting.”

“As long as you promise to sing with me.”

We had our first pinky promise then. Your pinky was so long and large, mine so tiny. 

“Did your mom get back from her business trip?” I started and you added the “business trip” in the background. 

“Is she there or is she tryna give me the sli-i-i-i-ip? Give me the slip?”

You took over then, I think the line resonated with you, “You know, I'm not the little boy that I used to be. I'm all grown up now baby, can't you see?”

Then we took the chorus and the rest of the song together, jamming out like teenagers. My heart swelled. You singing, so relaxed with me, just made me so happy. You were comfortable with me. And your singing voice is pretty good too Spen, maybe if you hadn’t been groomed for the FBI you would’ve made a good singer. 

“I know it might be wrong but I'm in love with Stacy's mom.”

We finished the song together, practically yelling, and when we looked up we both realized I missed the exit for your place. I made a u-turn and dropped you off, vehemently apologizing for messing up. Directions were always your thing, not mine. You smiled and said thank you, and even pulled me in for a hug. When we came out of the hug, we made eye contact. The steamy kind like in movies before the two main characters make out. I almost leaned in to kiss you, but I pulled back and left. You waved to me from the door.  

The whole ride home I was freaking out. My heart was going insane. That’s the day I fell in love with you, Spencer Reid. I was teetering on the edge already, but sitting in my car with you, scream-singing Stacy’s Mom, that’s when I fell into the water. So put the CD in a player, turn it on, and listen to Stacy’s Mom. Every time I hear that song I will think of you, sometimes I even play it on purpose just to remember that day. To remember how complete I felt. Remember the electricity and tension. Remember how that’s the day you fell in love with me too. When the 3 minutes and 18 seconds of the song are done, go to envelope 2.” 

Spencer put the paper down and shakily tore off the plastic. You were right, that was when he told you he fell in love with you, but really he had been in love with you a long time before then. He had fallen for you almost immediately after you joined the unit, but he didn’t say anything. He told you he fell in love with you the same moment you fell in love with him because that would be perfect. And you deserve perfect. 

Spencer remembers a different day as the one when he fell in love with you. It was the first day you were introduced to everyone and Rossi raved about all your skills to the team. You dressed to impress that day, and impress you had. Not just your beauty, but your brain. That’s what he really fell in love with first. But that was almost five years ago. When his hair was too long and shaggy; a homeless poet was what he liked to call himself. 

When the song ended, he started it over. 

“She’s all I want and I’ve waited for so long,” Was another line he yelled extra loud, but you hadn’t written about it. He belted that one out because that was how he felt about you. How he still feels about you. He suddenly felt so claustrophobic, ripping off his tie and opening the top few buttons of his shirt. He paced around the room, the song still playing in the background. ‘How did this happen?’ He asked himself again. He lived it with you and still didn’t know quite how this happened. Knowing the answer was hidden in those pages, he got himself together enough to open up envelope 2.

PART 3!

[supposed2bfunny]

hello hello this is the anon from a few asks ago, I rambled abt lore and gates to hell, anyways a thought; I'd personally be much more concerned for Murdoc if I knew the writing had some proper weight to it, yknow? cause I know from experience that just bc you might not be acting out in fits of anger anymore, that doesn't mean that that damage isn't going somewhere. We know Murdoc cries, a lot, so I guess the scene in Desole would concern me from an isolation/internalization standpoint? 1/2

All valid points, but you know the writers are gonna—what is it Grace Jones said? Take us for a ride 😔 We ain’t gonna get squat diddly in terms of meaningful development or catharsis. They work us up into a frenzy and then bish bosh is over the head like the clowns we are.

However! You do raise some excellent points, particularly Murdoc turning in on himself rather than externalizing his negative emotions as we’ve seen him do in the past! Unfortunately, unhealthy and self-destructive coping mechanisms have always defined Murdoc’s character. Even if this shift is less harmful to others, it’s still harmful to him, but that still tracks for Murdoc. You’re right to be alarmed, because it is very easy to slip into a cycle of self-destruction without any outside support to pull him out of his own head.

It’s an interesting intersection we’re at with his character. On the one hand, this feels like the final season of Bojack Horseman: here we all are biting our nails for a character who has done BAD things! Are we not rooting for the “bad guy” here?? Yes it makes us sad to see him said, but does his sadness make up for his past? And on the other hand, CAN Murdoc truly change? If he’s been knocked down to the point of crying on the couch cuz his friends dumped him to take a boat ride, can he claw his way back into their (and our) good graces? What would that look like?

Despite how much I adore Murdoc, I’m very hesitant to give him too too much sympathy here. Still, I want to think that it’s possible he can get through to the band and ultimately rejoin them in spirit.

A lot of us like to project our own self-loathing into this guy, and I think hoping that he finds a way to redeem himself and communicate meaningfully to others is noble.

In terms of seeing that happen, I’m counting on the fandom, not the writers ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[awhitehead17]

Faces Like Yours, Belong In A Zoo

Tim & Dick & Jason & Damian, Shifters AU, Sibling Relationship, Humour, Fluff, Comfort, Arguments. 

Summary: It was demanded by Bruce that they spend the time while they're away to 'bond', however their plans get rudely interrupted when Jason decides to go and stick his nose in someone else’s business, that's when everything goes wrong.

A/N: This is done for 'AU: Zoo' on my Batfam Bingo card. Just a note to say that the boys get along better with one another in this story than what they do in the comics.

Also on AO3

Enjoy! :D

“Have a weekend of bonding, he said. It’ll be good for you, he said. It’ll be a chance for you all to connect, he said. You know what, fuck Bruce. Fuck this whole trip!”

“Oh my god Jason, shut up and run!”

“I am running! What’s it look like I’m doing to you? I can multi-task you know!”

Morons. His so called brothers are morons. Once they’re out of this mess Damian’s going to kill them

“Uh guys, I would like to remind you that they’re no more than about 20 feet behind us!”

“Relax Timmy we’re fine.”

“I’m going to circle back and see what they’re doing.”

“Don’t you dare Tim! Tim! Timothy! Dammit Tim.”

Like Damian had thought, morons.

Being sent away to a forest, where no one else was supposed to be, was a perfect opportunity where they could change into their therianthropic forms and ‘bond’ together. It was suggested, no demanded, by their father that they do so. However their plans got rudely interrupted when Todd decided to go and stick his nose in someone else’s business. He ended up stumbling across a group of hunters who took up camp deep in the forest.

Being the imbecile that he is, Todd acted without thinking and charged at the hunters, obviously hoping to take them down. The idiot underestimated them and was almost shot down by the time the others arrived onto the scene. Still being in their animal forms, unless they wanted to be shot, they really had no choice but to run.

So now they’re running through a forest trying to get away from the hunters, unsurprisingly it being all Todd’s fault. Damian had always said that Todd was useless.

Not only was Todd useless but now Drake was being an idiot as well. Bering the only one who could fly, he decided to turn back and scout from the sky to look at what the hunters were doing.

“He’s going to get himself captured or killed!” Todd growls out through their mind link.

The mind link was how they were all able to communicate while in their animal forms. While it comes with many disadvantages, it does come with some advantages. It was one of the thing father demanded they work on while ‘bonding’.

They run for a few more meters when Drake appears above them again. His wings constantly flapping in order to keep him gliding at their pace as the rest of them ran on the ground.

“Bad news, they’re loading rifles with what I think is a drug or a poison and they have multiple guns loaded, but we already knew that.” He reports back.

“Real helpful Timmy.” Todd deadpans

“I don’t see you doing anything helpful Jason! You’re the one that got us into this mess to begin with!”

Before Todd could retort back, it was easy to tell that he was going to, Richard cuts in. “Knock it off! Both of you! Right now we need a plan, something to get us out of their paths just long enough for us to change back. With the pace we’re going at we’ll end up being caught soon enough. Anyone got any ideas?”

No one answers for a while, Damian’s mind was blank at what they could currently do in this situation. There wasn’t a lot of options, both Richard and Todd could probably take down the hunters themselves while in their therianthropic forms but he knows how strict Richard is of the ‘no killing rule’ and he’s aware on how Todd’s trying to be good and stay clean.

The only other option was to turn back to human, but the process of that takes several minutes and that’s time they don’t have.

“Well perhaps if someone didn’t have such a pathetic form, we’d be able to run faster huh?”

Damian knew that the jab was aimed at him. It always was. Out of the four of them, as much as he despises the fact, he has the least powerful form. Richard always tells him that it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but when his so called siblings all have powerful therianthropic forms it’s hard to not be jealous. Even Drake has a more useful form than he does!

His form is weak, tiny and useless. Richard has his powerful and fast form of a cheetah, Todd has his predatory and menacing form of a wolf and even Drake with his superior tracking senses of an owl. He was just a plain simple house cat. Nothing more and nothing less. Just a cat. It infuriates him to no ends. His brothers would constantly tease him about it which would often lead him to lashing out at them and then that would get them all in trouble by father and Pennyworth.

He doesn’t give Todd the satisfaction of a retort. He’s too busy in trying to keep up to even think of one. He’s having to jump over large roots sprouting from the ground, over piles of leaves and twigs which have fallen from above, he’s having to jump over large ditches. He’d have more chance in being faster if he was human, but the likely hood of getting spotted and shot were greater, he wasn’t risking it.

“We need to think of something!” Richard stresses over their mind link.

“I can try and distract them!” Drake suggests. “I can get you guys enough time to get away or to at least turn back.”

That gets an immediate protest from Todd, “Absolutely not replacement. You’ll get yourself shot or captured.”

“It’s something. I’m going.”

Then like that he was turning around and heading in the direction of their pursuers.

“Tim!”

Just ahead of him Richard skids to a stop. His whole body tense and ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. He and Todd stop next to him. Todd gives Richard a low growl, nodding to the side with his head, “He’ll be fine. We gotta go.”

Damian tuts at them through the link, having had enough with the fooling around. “It’s his choice, lets go before we all get captured.”

Richard was still reluctant to go, however. He stays standing there, focusing on where Drake had disappeared for the trees.

Damian looks over at Todd to find the wolf’s startling blue eyes staring back. Even without the facial features of his brother he knew that he and Todd were in agreement. Silently they both start wondering away, leaving the eldest to his own devices. It was when they were a few feet away that they here a cry of pain through the mental link.

“Tim!”

They turn around just in time to see Richard dash through the trees to where Drake had gone. They share another look between before bosh of them were following Richard’s path. They dart back through the trees, going the way they just came, until they here a variety of screams and yells.

“Shoot it! Just shoot it!”

Todd growls lowly before pouncing at the nearest hunter, it was certainly satisfying hearing the terror in his scream. While Todd and Richard cause havoc with the hunters, Damian searches for Drake. He knows his form isn’t up for fighting so he’ll try and be useful elsewhere.

He finds the fallen owl sprawled out on the floor unmoving. Rushing over, Damian quickly assesses his brother’s body. It was hard to tell if he was breathing or not, his therianthropic form wasn’t the easiest to read, however there was a slight twitch in his spread-out wings that told Damian he was in fact still alive.

Just as he was deciding what to do with Drake’s unconscious form, there were some more shouts behind him and then a high-pitched yelp.

“Shit I’ve been hit… that’s a sedative��� fuck.”

He looks just in time to see Jason stumble on his legs before falling limply to the ground. Richard comes out of nowhere and quickly steps in front of Todd’s unconscious form, his long printed body filled with tension, the low growl his eldest brother was making was a clear sign of ‘back away’.

Damian watches with rapt attention as the hunters scramble to their feet, clumsily grabbing and reloading their guns to aim at the very pissed off cheetah. As he shield’s the wolf from view he hisses at the hunters in warning as they start getting closer.

“Damian?”

Hearing his name he startles. He had been so absorbed in what was happening he lost track of what he was supposed to be doing. Sloppy. If he was with his mother she would have punished him for his tardiness.

“I’m still here.” He calls back to Richard.

There’s another hiss at the hunters before he gets a response. “Where’s Tim? Did you find him?”

“I’m with the idiot now. He’s unconscious, hopefully by a sedative, or actually they have done us a favour and actually killed him. I can’t tell.”

Richard wasn’t impressed with his humour. “Enough! Can you get him away or not? There’s no way I’m getting-”

Richard growls and lunges towards one of the hunters who got too close. The man scrambles back at Dick’s sudden movement, his arms were trembling as they badly aim the gun in his direction. Richard quickly retreats back in front of Todd to protect him.

“I’m not getting out of here. If you can get away, possibly with Tim, then do so. Go back and get help. They haven’t spotted you yet.”

That much was true. All of the hunters attention was on Richard, him being the most threatening presence at this moment in time. He glances down at Drake who was still unconscious. He could grab him and drag him away, they’re near the forest edge that they could hide in the trees but the chances that the hunters will catch him are high. He’s lucky he’s small in his animal form, they haven’t spotted him yet.

He’s distracted from his thoughts yet again when one of the men surrounding Richard says, “Just shoot the damn thing already before it attacks us again!”

Damian didn’t even have the chance to react to that. Before he knew it, there were a couple gun shots going off, a painful yell inside his head and even him screaming in distress.

In front of him he sees Richard’s form tremble before collapsing over Todd’s. The hunters all visibly relax when the cheetah goes down. Damian’s mind is reeling, they had… did they just… no surely not…

“Now what boss?”

It was one of the hunters, Damian watches as he places his gun down and looks over at another man who had blood running down the side of his face. Todd or Richard must have gotten him before getting shot.

“We skinning them? Eating them?”

“I want to know why there are two completely different animals out here in this forest. Doesn’t anyone else find it strange?”

“How much do you think we could get?”

“I bet a printed rug will fit quite nicely in my living room at home.”

“All of you shut up!” The boss of the group shouts, silencing them all. “I can tell you what we’re gonna do. These kinds of animals are a lot more valuable alive. I’ve got a few contacts which will benefit us all. Now that they’re only sedated we better get our asses moving before they wake up again. Now go back, get the cages and get the damn animals inside of them, I’ve got some phone calls to make!”

All the hunters disperse. Most head for the bodies of his unconscious brothers but one starts heading his way. He freezes on the spot when he and the hunter make eye contact. The hunter seems at a loss at what to do, after a moment he calls over one of his pals and without thinking about it Damian hisses and darts away into the trees.

He runs for what feels like forever until he knows he’s set some distance between him and the hunters. Once he stops running he curses himself for being so weak and useless. While his brothers fought he just stood around doing nothing! Then at the end he ran away like a coward. He had left Drake there despite what Richard had told him. Now his brothers were captured, in their therianthropic forms nonetheless, meaning they can’t change back without giving their identities away.

This is bad. Father will be so disappointed. He was trained to be better than this, how could everything go so wrong! He was useless, weak, unworthy.

He takes a moment to slowly walk through the forest as he tries to gather his thoughts. The hunters aren’t going to kill them, he at least has that to work with. He needs to find out where they’ll be sending his brothers, he needs to get some sort of tracking device on them.

He perks up, if he’s quick enough he can head back to their camp, get everything he needs and then go to the hunters, place the tracking device on them and follow them to wherever they’ll be going. Father wasn’t expecting back for another 3 days, this could his way to prove he is capable and not weak or useless!

With that in mind he starts heading for his own camp, remembering exactly where they had set up. He has half a plan it’s a start and he’ll prove that he is worthy and not useless to all of his family.

Overall it takes about half a day. By the time the hunters were leaving the forest it was dark out. At that point Damian had already packed up their camp, put everything back on the plane they had used to travel to the forest and was comfortably sitting in the pilot’s seat watching everything they were doing from his camera’s he’s sent out on his drones.

Once he had changed back to human, Damian went to their camp, gathered what he needed and then went back to where the hunters had captured his siblings. He followed them to their camp and went about placing his own cameras and tracking devices. There was no way he could take them all on his own, well he could but he would risk harming the others and giving away his identity. To his annoyance, waiting around and being patient was the way this was going to play out.

While waiting in the plane he goes about watching the trackers and observing the route the hunters were taking, they head out of the forest and onto the main road heading towards the closet city.

As he watched them Damian must have accidently fallen asleep because the next thing he knows is that he’s jerking awake to a beeping sound. He looks down at the tablet still in his lap to find that the tracking devices are in a much different location than what they were when he last looked at them.

His tablet reports that they’ve been stationary for over three hours now. Ignoring the way his body was now aching from sleeping in the chair, Damian zooms in on the location on the map to find the trackers at a zoo.

He pauses, surprised. That’s where the hunters took his siblings? To a zoo? He scoffs, how pathetic, couldn’t they think of anything better? He supposes it’s actually good news because that means he can find his family easier but the idea of it is just terrible.

As he starts the plane up he looks on the tablet for a suitable place to park the plane and starts thinking of his next move in how he’s going to get to his brothers.

It’s nearing mid-morning when he arrives at the zoo. The place was filling up with all kinds of people and their families. Young children were running around screaming, others were crying and just being obnoxious. He can’t ever remember being like that as a child. If he even let one tear fall down his face he would have been punished for it, but these children are crying over absolutely nothing and their parents were trying to soothe them for it.

Deciding to ignore everyone around him, he lines up at the ticket booth, pays for a ticket (the woman serving him gave him a funny look to which he just scowled at. Despite what he looked like, he was not a child who needed handling) and enters the zoo.

The first part of his plan was too work out where his brothers were being kept. The next part would be where all the security was and where all the keys to the cages were being kept. The third part was to free his brothers from there cages and then lastly getting out of the zoo and head back home.

A part of him was just tempted to leave them here. He would think that they’d fit in here pretty well after all, but he knows that both father and Pennyworth would disapprove of that choice so unless he wanted to be frowned upon and disciplined when he got back, it’s best that he rescues them.

He grabs a map of the zoo and starts wondering around. Despite that he was practically on a mission he still couldn’t help but distracted by some of the animals. They were incredible to look at, it just saddens him that they’re trapped here instead of out in the wild in their natural habitat.

Damian ends up finding Drake’s cage first. There’s a small crowd gathered just outside of the enclosure, children were pointing at various areas in the cages while the parents pretended to be interested. He looks in the cage himself and scans it until he finds his brother.

Drake was perched on a branch in the far corner, mostly away from sight and certainly away from all of the other owls in there with him, to Damian’s annoyance Drake was asleep. Damian rolls his eyes, how typical. Even if Drake was awake he wouldn’t be able to speak with him, their mind link doesn’t work in their human forms, but he would have at least been able to sign to him what his plan was.

Tutting, Damian moves on.

The next one he finds happens to be Richard. Once again to his annoyance, his brother was asleep. Unlike Drake, Richard happened to be fully on show, right in the centre of the cage, on top of some rocks for everyone to be able to clearly see him. outside of the cage Damian was surrounded by people who were both excited and disappointed, they were happy to see the wild cat but were sad because it was only sleeping and so was its other companions.

Damian moves on yet again. He finds Todd on the other side of the zoo. The wolf’s cage was located at the top of the park, at the tip of a large hill. Unlike the others Todd was wide awake, however he was tearing into what looked like a pig’s carcass.

Damian scrunched up his face in disgust. That’s really something he could have done without seeing. Nonetheless, it’s clear that Todd was too distracted to notice him. He watches his brother tear into the meat and as he glares at the other wolves when they get too close.

Having had enough of the sight Damian leaves and starts his trek back down the hill. Now he knows where they are, he starts forming the second part of his plan.

It takes him until the evening to work out everything he needs, where everything is kept and how everything works. As he was scouting the main security lobby he had manged to take one of the spare keys to the place and pocket it, so he’s got that for later. It’s thanks to all of his training that he’s got it done quick and efficiently as he has, it also helps that the employee’s apparently aren’t very bright either.

Just as the zoo’s getting ready to shut, Damian moves onto the third part of his plan.

As he was wondering around the zoo earlier on, he came across a park like area. There were trees around, several benches and even a playground. This area obviously being where families would have a break to have lunch or let their children go and play. Damian goes to the area and buries himself within the trees, using the thick branches to conceal himself.

He waits there until after dark, when the zoo has fully closed and the guards have done their last checks until moving. He heads straight for the security section of the zoo, he needs to get the relevant keys for the cages so he can free his brothers. He has to dodge a few night staff but he makes his way easily to the place and manages to get inside without being caught.

Inside there was only one guard at the time, he was busily reading a book when really he should have been watching the monitors. Damian resists tutting, one job, that imbecile has one job and he’s not even doing it. It’s not his concern either way, the guard was in fact just making Damian’s job easier.

Damian sneaks by and gets to where all the keys are stored, from his earlier investigation he’s able to pick out the three exact one he needs easily and was on his way out in a matter of minutes. Once outside he heads for Drake’s cage first. It wasn’t that he wanted to free Drake first, it was just convenient that he’s got the closet cage to the security building.

Using a torch to light the pathway there, they had dim lampposts around but the torch made things easier, he gets to the owls cage. This time he finds Drake awake. He watches as Drake’s pupils widen in recognition, his brother hoots before he’s flying up to the mesh keeping him trapped in there. There’s a stream of hooting that comes from him and Damian harshly shushes him.

“Quiet Drake! If you keep up that nonsense you’ll get me caught! I will not be beaten because you couldn’t control yourself!”

Damian climbs over the fence that the public have to stand behind and makes his way over to the cages door. Getting the right key he unlocks it and opens the door up just enough for the owl to get through. As tempted as he is to let the others free he knows that he couldn’t. Thankfully Drake is aware enough to be quick with the escape and instantly flies through the gap once he’s opened the door. As he closes and locks it, Drake settles on his shoulder.

Once the cage was secured Damian moves away, but before moving onto freeing the other two he pauses and takes off his backpack that he’s been carrying all day. Opening it up, he places it on the floor and glances at the owl on his shoulder. Drake cocks his head to the side in question, his big round eyes slowly blinking at him.

“In my bag are clothes, change back so we can move on.” He demands the bird.

Drake flaps off his shoulder and down to the ground. He stares up at Damian, Damian tuts as he gets the message his brother was silently conveying. He turns around and starts surveying the surroundings for any security as he gives Drake some privacy.

Several minutes go by and then he’s hears groaning. He looks over his shoulder to find Drake curled up on the floor, slowly stretching out his limbs one by one. He really tries to not focus on the fact that he’s stark naked. That’s one of the problems when changing back from their therianthropic forms, they become naked once they’re human again.

A couple minutes go by and Drake was finally standing up, he glances around as if looking for something.

“Uh where are my shoes? Did you even pack them?”

Damian shoots him a look before looking down at Drake’s barefoot on the ground. He feels his face instantly heat up in embarrassment. He forgot to pack shoes. And socks. He turns away from Drake and starts walking in the direction of Richard’s enclosure. “We’re wasting time, let’s go.”

Behind him Drake sighs, “And you forgot to pack them. Wow. How can you forget to pack shoes?”

Damian stops walking and shoot an irritated glance over his shoulder and retorts, “How can you be so stupid and get captured?”

Drake scrunches up his face and repeats what he said in a higher voice. Damian scowls at him, not amused by the childish behaviour, and turns back around to walk. If Drake wants to be immature then Damian will let him, he’s not rising to the bait. The sooner he can get to Richard and Todd, the sooner they can go home and the sooner he can get away from them all.

Drake gets over himself and follows behind him but not without comments underneath his breath about his feet was cold or how his limbs were aching and how Damian should have been better prepared. Together they make their way to the eldest’s cage, where inside they find one cheetah awake and pacing the length of it. A nearby lamppost was producing enough light for them to see inside of the cage. The animal goes to one end, turns around before heading back to the other.

Damian feels pain watching the trapped animal, they should be free and allowed to run wild out in their natural habitat instead of this stingy cage.

Without any consultation to Drake, Damian climbs over the fence that’s supposed to keep the public away and finds the door. Opening it grabs the cheetah’s attention and for a brief moment Damian worries at what might happen, whether the animal would charge at him with the clear pent up energy it has or something else that may happen.

Thankfully he doesn’t need to worry because as soon as he sees the cheetah’s face he recognises that it’s Richard. He sees the animal perk up and immediately he’s bounding over to Damian at the door, silently he opens the door wide enough for Richard to walk through before closing it back up again.

“Clothes are in here Dick.”

Damian does not jump at the sudden sound of Drake’s voice right behind him. He certainly knew that the idiot was there. He did.

Drake places the bag on the floor before opening it up as Damian had for him, the two of them then turn around to give the eldest some privacy. A couple minutes go by and behind them Richard was groaning and stretching.

“God I hate being in that form for so long.” That’s when arms fling around him and secure him in a hug. “Thanks Dami! You’re a life saver.”

Damian scowls at both the hug and the nickname but allows Richard to hug him until he lets go and moves onto Drake. He won’t ever admit it out loud but he does like Richard’s affection sometimes, it makes him feel like he’s worth something and is part of the family.

“Hey, where are my shoes?”

Drake snorts, “Damian forgot to pack them.”

“Oh.”

“Perhaps if you imbeciles hadn’t been captured in the first place then you wouldn’t be needing shoes now.” He says defensively.

Clearly recognising his tone, Richard pouts. “Hey, it’s okay Damian, at least you got us clothes. I’m sure you had a lot on your mind with trying to find us and everything.” He doesn’t miss the pointed look he gives to Drake, who merely rolls his eyes and looks away.

Damian narrows his eyes before turning away, “Whatever, let’s go and get Todd.”

He leads the way with Richard and Drake trailing behind. They thankfully don’t encounter any security along the way and get to Todd’s cage in a reasonable time.

As they approach it they each could hear a low growling noise, a deep snarl that was quickly followed by another. Once again there was enough light coming from the lamp post on the path to see into the cage, this allows them to see that two wolves were having a stand off inside.

They were crouched low and were growling as they slowly circled one another. It was clear this was an alpha fight, one was challenging the other and they’ll keep growling and fighting until one yields. Much to all of their annoyance (and unsurprise) Todd was one of the wolves.

The three of them stand there watching as Todd has his stand off with the other wolf. It wasn’t anything interesting and while Damian would be curious to see what one would win he’d rather be back at Wayne Manor doing something else that didn’t involve the others.

“What should we do?”

Richard shrugs at Drake’s question. “I don’t know… we can’t really just interrupt them but I want to get Jason out of there before anything happens.”

There’s another growl and suddenly the two wolves were fighting.

They’re bodies collide and then they were biting, growling, twisting and turning around one another as they attack the other. They break apart momentarily before attacking again. It was interesting and intense to watch. Damian knows that Todd can take care of himself but the fool, more times than not, underestimates his opponents both in human and therianthropic form. Damian isn’t willing to admit it, but he’s slightly concerned for Todd.

There was a yelp from one of them and next to him Richard lets out a sharp breath before saying, “Right, that’s it…” He then lifts his fingers to his mouth and lets out a sharp whistle sound.

While it wouldn’t mean anything to the other wolf, it would mean something to Todd. On Richard’s other side Drake hisses, giving their brother a terrified look.

“Dick! What the hell, you’re going to get us caught.”

Richard ignores him, just as Damian was doing, his attention was purely on the wolves in front of them. The two animals surprisingly split apart, both of them looking around for what made the noise. A moment later Todd finally spots them, when he does his posture straightens and his ears flick up in recognition.

A nudge at his side gets his attention. He scowls, pushes away the offending appendage and looks at the owner. “Go and let him out, obviously only Jason, not the others.”

Damian rolls his eyes, “Tt, of course.”

He grabs the bag off Richard and goes to the door of the enclosure. He opens it up waiting. Inside, Todd and the other wolf growl at each other again and very slowly Todd starts making his way to the door, always keeping the other animal in his sight. He even backs out of the door with his behind first. Once he was out Damian locks the door once again and places the bag on the floor for Todd to use once he changed.

Damian leaves him to it and goes back to Richard and Drake who were quietly talking, when he appears Richard turns his attention to him.

“Now we’re all here, how are you planning to put the keys back? You were planning on putting them back right?”

“Of course. I may not agree with the animals being kept locked up like this but that is a matter for another time. As for now, I shall put these keys back and we will head home.”

Richard opens his mouth to speak but Todd’s irritable voice could be heard instead. “Fuck me that was adventure and a half. That bastard has one hellva bite and scratch on him.”

Todd appears and climbs over the fence to stand in front of them. He was dressed in the clothes Damian had packed, his feet bare like the others, but he had a streak of blood running down his arm.

“Jason! You’re bleeding.”

Todd rolls his eyes and gives Drake a deadpan look, “Yes, thank you, captain obvious.”

“Why did you have to challenge that wolf Jay?” Richard sighs, getting a look at the wound. Damian just gets a glimpse of it, it looks like a deep scratch which will need stitches later on. “You should know better than that.”

Todd glares, “I wasn’t taking shit from any of them. As soon as I got put in there all of the others hated me. That bastard at the end deserved a beat down.”

Damian huffs, “Now we’re all here can we go. I have had enough spending time with you and would like to go home where I can get away from you all.”

Todd raises an eyebrow, “Something we can finally agree on brat.”

“Jason. And yes Damian, let’s go, how do we get out of here?”

The four of them decide to attempt leaving through the front gates (there really being nowhere else they can exit from). As Damian put the keys back, Drake tampers with the security, setting the cameras into loop from the amount of time they take to scale the gate and leave the grounds.

Much to all of their surprise, they make it to the gate and over it without any problems. The entire time both Drake and Todd complained about their lack of shoe wear but Richard helpfully reminds them that it could be worse and how Damian had done his best.

They make it to the plane, set it to auto pilot and get settled for the flight home.

“So…” Todd starts off with. He was on the medical bed getting stitched up by Drake. “What the fuck are we going to tell Bruce because I am more than willing to give him a piece of my mind about this whole stupid trip. We didn’t even work on being in our therianthropic forms….”

From the pilots seat Richard sighs and rubs his forehead, “I don’t know. He’ll most likely work out the truth either way, but I am more than willing to let this whole situation go. Though there’s definitely things we need to talk about guys so things like this don’t happen again.”

It doesn’t go unnoticed on how he gives them all a disappointed look with that statement. It goes silent for a moment before the eldest was speaking up again.

“On the other hand, Damian thank you for getting us out of there. I have no idea what we would have done if you didn’t find us.”

Todd snorts, “Who knew the brat had it in him after all…”

Damian sends him a glare, “I should have just left you in there Todd, after all you do belong in a zoo.”

“Watch it brat, next time it’ll be you I bet the shit out of when I’m next in my therianthropic form.”

“Just as you were beating that wolf earlier?”

“Oooohh, he got you there Jason.” Drake comments with a laugh.

Todd glares at Drake and shoots a retort back, from there the two of them begin bicker like children. Next to him Richard gets his attention with a hand on his arm. “Damian, seriously, thank you. I want to know how you managed to find us and in such a sort time to. Despite what the others say, if you didn’t have a small therianthropic form, you wouldn’t have been able to get away. You’re not useless or pathetic. As we each do, we all have our strengths and weaknesses alright.”

Damian studies Richard to find the man looking at him sincerely, it was clear that he meant what he was saying. While it was good to hear Damian still couldn’t really believe it. It was just this once that his smaller form came into use, not any other time. He just got lucky that’s all.

Suddenly he’s being pulled up and out of the co pilots seat that he’s been sat in and dragged into a hug from Richard. “I’m proud of you baby bat. Don’t go beating yourself up about your form, it was helpful today, you freed us because you manged to get away and now we’re going home. In the future there will be times you won’t be able to help, but there will be times when you can.”

Damian eventually relaxes into Richards hold and even wraps his own arms around him. He didn’t know how to take Richard’s words, he wants to believe them but he finds he just can’t. It was nice to hear though and how he’s proud of him, at least Damian knows that he’s done something right despite everything. It’s something he has to go on, not that he’ll ever admit that out loud to anyone.

From the hug he mutters, “Still should have left Todd at the zoo.”

Richard laughs, “Yeah we probably should have, it would be a lot easier to say at least.”

“Hey!”

[nixmatize]

Making room for someone new (chapter 8 - final)

First || Previous

Read on AO3

This is the last day of @marigami-week, and therefore the last installation of this series! Thank you so much who has read and supported this so far. :’-)

(((Side note: there are a few hundred words of bonus content in the AO3 version, but it’s not too marigami focused - you can skip it without missing out)))

Marinette dashed off, ducking into a hidden alley away from any potential prying eyes. She was ready to absolutely destroy this akuma for interrupting her date with Kagami; the entire day had been absolutely perfect before Hawkmoth just had to swoop in and ruin it.

She had a moment of thankfulness, too, that Kagami already knew her secret. She had never even considered before how much worse it would be ditching your date rather than just ditching a friend-hangout, and she would never want to make Kagami feel that Marinette didn’t care about her just because she disappeared without warning at the appearance of any akuma.

Still, the whole situation was non-ideal.

Tikki zoomed out into the open the moment they were out of sight of pedestrians. “Tikki, spots on!” From the alley Marinette had disappeared into, Ladybug hopped up and out to stand on a nearby roof.

She had to hop a couple of blocks towards the sound of screams before the akuma itself came into view. The akuma was an old lady dressed in a shimmering cacophony of colors. While she didn’t seem to have any actual weapons on her, there were multiple large flowers with teeth at her back and call, and she seemed to be growing large vines from the ground in order to trap people in place.

Marinette considered finding a way to send Hawkmoth links to some basic online classes; he didn’t seem to have a good grasp on reality, least of all botany if the oddly warped off-color flower monsters were anything to go by.

Furthermore, she would definitely have to teach him a thing or two about fashion. Floral designs could be done really well, but that mash of colors was giving her a migraine.

Before she was able to figure out what the item could be, she heard the slight thud next to her indicating that her partner had dropped by.

“A pleasure as always to see you, Milady,” he purred.

“Hi Chat,” she replied, still examining the akuma. “I think the akumatized object might be in the flower on her lapel; it’s the only full flower rather than just petals.”

He stepped closer and knelt, completely ignoring her remark about the akuma. She turned. “My Lady,” he said, bowing, holding out a vibrant red rose. “The flower may have been a little on-the-nose, but still, it would be a purr-leasure if mew would accompany me on a date this evening?”

Ladybug shifted, uncomfortable. Chat Noir was a good friend, but he didn’t seem to be able to understand that she had absolutely no romantic feelings for him. She had to turn him down, but every time it hurt to see him so dejected.

“Chat, I actually was… on a date. Before this akuma.”

He looked at her eyes wide and flower slipping out of his loosened grip.

Just them, Ladybug spotted a vine shooting directly for him – the villain must have noticed them chatting up on the rroftop. “Look out!” she cried, tumbling into him and pushing them both out of the way.

“Was it your crush? Mystery lover boy? I swear I can do better for you than someone who spent that long without noticing you.”

“Chat, is this really the time for this?” They both dodged another round of magic vines, only to see even more shooting at them from multiple directions. Ladybug swung her yo-yo to tie some together in order to prevent them moving, but soon the entire mass of vines gave up on trying to break free and began to move toward them in unison. Chat, similarly, was having very little luck: his baton could bat vines aside, but it did nothing to stop them. “But for the record, it’s a girl I became friends with a little while ago who I really like.”

“I just… you could have chosen me. When you moved on from Mystery Boy, I was always there waiting.” He sounded sad, and seemed to be trying to make himself small in the face of her rejection.

“Look, Chat,” she started, pausing to duck out of the reach of one of the monstrous flowers that had climbed closer. “You’re one of my very best friends. I trust you with my life, always. But I don’t have feelings for you, and I need you to respect that.” She did her best to put all of her steely determination into her voice, determined to have Chat Noir get the message this time around even though it was hurting both of them.

He looked over her with big eyes, kitty ears drooping, before nodding once.

“Thank you of understanding, Chat,” Ladybug sighed. The vines were getting too close for comfort. “I think we need to get out of the way of this akuma and reconvene: we’re getting nowhere this way.”

Chat nodded again, and they bosh dashed off to the sound of the akuma howling in frustration behind them. Once they had lost the akuma and made it enough streets over, they paused to catch their breath and plan their next move.for

“Maybe Cataclysm?”

“It would help, but against this many different moving parts, probably not enough to win. My Lucky Charm?”

“That could get us closer, but I think this villain is still too strong for the two of us to take down alone. I hate to say it milady, but I think we may need to call in backup. How about Rena? Carapace?”

Ladybug looked off to one side. “They’ve been… permanently retired. Civilian life stuff.”

Chat’s tail froze for a moment, before twitching back to life. “I’ll… trust your judgement, Ladybug. Who else can we call in?”

Ladybug bit her lip. “I was actually considering making Ryuuko a permanent hero.”

This time Chat’s entire body froze. “Permanent?” “Yes.” “So she wouldn’t have to give her miraculous back to you?” “No, not unless she couldn’t work well with us.” “But… I like it being just the two of us against the world.”

“I’m sorry Chat, but we’ve just had too many close scrapes lately. Someday, if we keep up the way we are, Hawkmoth will get lucky and win. Having a permanent hero – one who can join the fight without me having to take a break and go find her – gives us much better chances of success.”

Chat still looked unhappy, ears pinned back to his skull and tail lashing. “Fine. You clearly are the one in charge here, anyway.” He turned to jump back toward the battle, before looking back one last time. “But, Ladybug – don’t forget that I have just as much experience as a superhero as you do. Just because you think it’s a good idea doesn’t mean it actually is.”

She watched him go, torn. Ladybug took a long draw of air to center herself. This was the right choice. They need help – and they would keep needing help. Kagami had shown herself to be nothing but trustworthy. Tikki, a god with millennia of experience, had given her the go-ahead. She was the one chosen to be guardian.

She was sure of her choice, but some little part of her was still pulling to chase after Chat Noir, to explain herself better and assure him that of course they were partners, the original duo, the balance.

But she knew that this wasn’t her fault, nor her battle. She was making the best choice for the team, and was fulfilling her duties as guardian of the miraculous; Chat was still hurt over her rejection, and wasn’t working with the full story.

She bounded off toward where she had left Kagami. It only took a couple minutes of search to find her crouched behind a small restaurant, well out of any potential path of the akuma.

Ladybug lowered herself in front of agami, causing the other girl to blink up at her in confusion. “The battle cannot be over yet! The akuma is still on the loose...”

Ladybug looked at the phone in Kagami’s hands, only to see that, yes, Kagami had been watching a livestream of the akuma. Some part of the tension she had been carrying with her since talking with Chat dissipated at the thought of Kagami watching out for her in her own way, even when she couldn’t actually be there.

Marinette switched open her yo-yo, and reached a hand into the glowing sheen of power to pull out a small black box. “Kagami Tsurugi, this is the miraculous of the dragon, which you will use to help us take down the akuma.”

Kagami accepted it reverently, flipping it open and releasing Longg.

She looked up to flash Ladybug a crooked smile. “And let me guess, I return it to you once we’re done?”

“Actually, Chat Noir and I have been needing another permanent holder on our side for a long time now, since Hawkmoth seems to just keep getting stronger. So I was thinking, if you’re in – and if we fight well together, of course – you could… hold onto it?”

Kagami was satring at her with wide eyes, so she hastily hedged. “Not that you have to decide now, of course! And there’s no pressure to accept, if you don’t want to-”

“Ladybug,” Kagami said, cutting her off. “It would be an honor to fight by your side for as long as you’ll allow me. I swear I will do my best to protect you.”

Ladybug nodded, eyes misty for some reason she couldn’t name.

Kagami slipped on the necklace. “Longg, bring the storm.”

A flash, and Ryuuko stood facing Ladybug, adorned in red and black and gold that made Ladybug simultaneously want to fight by this girl’s side forever, and crush her to herself so that they could both stay safe and close without ever needing to worry about the other getting hurt.

Side by side, they leapt out of the alley, tracking back toward the action.

Both girls skidded to a stop on a nearby roof, where Chat Noir came bounding in at the sight of them. “You were right, Ladybug, the akuma is definitely in the flower – the akuma is way too protective of it.” He turned his blank gaze off to Ladybug’s side. “And Ryuuko, nice to fight with you again.”

Chat seemed to process silently for a moment, before his eyes flew open wide. “Wait, Ladybug, is she the girl…?”

Both Ladybug and Ryuuko had their faces turn different shades of pink. “Uh, haha,” Ladybug started, unsure of what to say, “wow! Look at that akuma! Gotta go!” She dashed off toward it before seeing Chat’s expression.

She heard Ryuuko say something to the same effect behind her, before bounding off into battle as well.

Both worked in sync, Ladybug tying together large bundles of vines that Ryuuko would then hack through in one fell swoop, crippling the akuma as her main weapons were neutralized.

Ladybug’s eyes caught Ryuuko’s just as they both made a leap for the weakened akuma’s object, and Marinette and Kagami had the same thought: I love this girl.

They both smiled as Ryuuko tore the flower and Ladybug swung her yo-yo out to purify it. Even though there was still plenty of fight ahead of them – the akuma battles, facing Lila, finding Hawkmoth – with someone like Kagami at her side, Marinette was sure everything would turn out just fine.

She released her healing ladybugs over the city, and felt the stress that had been gnawing at her since she was left as the sole guardian finally, finally release. She had two partners at her side, a city behind her, and a girlfriend who supported her; what more could a superhero ask for?

[duskholland]

Break His Heart - Harrison Osterfield

Summary: It seemed simple in the moment: complete a task, gain monetary reward... But in reality? Breaking a stranger’s heart is about to get a whole lot more complicated than you’d bargained for...

Word count: 6.4k (lads we’re going on a journey together pls buckle up)

Warnings: Bit of swearing, heavy on the angst, heavy on the fluff. Talks of sexual activity, but nothing detailed. Bish bash bosh.

A/N: So! This is crazy! I subconsciously channelled some serious PLL/A vibes as I wrote this, but promise it shouldn’t get as cringey as that show lmao. Is this the most fun I’ve had writing all year? You betcha. I’ve never written for Harrison before, so I’m actually bloody terrified that the work I put into this is going to go unread, so please... Read, reblog, comment... I’m dying to hear some responses to this!

This was written as my contribution to @spxderbarnes ‘ writing challenge! My theme was money, and I honestly had the best time writing this. Thanks so much for hosting such a fun challenge Em! Hope ya like this <3

---------

It’s a bad idea. You know it’s a bad idea.

It’s unfair. Manipulative. Completely despicable. You know you shouldn’t, yet…

“A hundred quid?!” You echo, eyes wide. You can feel your pulse quicken just from the thought of having that extra cash in your bank account. “Are you… Are you sure?”

The girl nods. You can’t really make out the features of her face, but you know she’s blonde, about six foot tall, and called Freya. She pulled you aside a little earlier in the night, started feeding you shots, and now you’re here; hustled together in the back corner of the club, speaking in hushed shouts. Your mind is fuzzy, but you can understand what she’s asking all the same.

“One hundred pounds,” she confirms, grinning slyly. “All you have to do is break his heart. If you do a good job, I might be tempted to increase it.”

Oh, now she’s really got you hooked.

“And he’s that one in the corner?” You check, turning slightly. With a hand, you gesture loosely to the other side of the club where there’s a group of lads standing together, laughing hysterically over something unimportant. The man in question wears a red varsity jacket, has a coiffed blond quiff, and every time he moves, the rings wrapped around his fingers glint beneath the strobe light.

“Harrison,” she confirms, spitting the name through pursed lips. She releases a noise that sounds a little like a hiss. “Can you do it?”

You nod slowly, thoughts swirling through your mind. You’re not a mean person - not by any means - but the thought of that extra money…

“Yeah, I’ll do it. Just… Why?”

Freya’s eyes betray nothing as she offers you her hand. “Doesn’t matter.”

You wrap your fingers in hers, ignoring the whirring sirens pounding through your head. Her grip is warm and firm as you shake on it, and when you pull away, your heart feels considerably heavier.

“I’ll text you in the morning,” she says, voice cool. “You have a month.”

And before you have time to let your doubts manifest further, she slips away, sashaying across and out of the club in a bright red dress. As she goes, you notice the way Harrison turns to stare at her, his eyes following her as a shadow of regret travels across his face. She slips out a moment later, and as if realising he’s the subject of an incredibly inquisitive stare, Harrison turns and spots you, your eyes meeting for a brief moment before you turn away, embarrassed.

His gaze stays on you for a moment. When you look back, you catch the end of it, and watch as his expression stays blank, unyielding, dismissive, before he turns away and goes back to his friends. You can’t help but frown.

Maybe seducing Harrison is going to be harder than you’d first imagined…

---------

The following morning you wake to a flurry of texts and a heart full of regret. Top of them all is Freya, her texts causing you to groan loudly.

Freya: Harrison always goes out on a Wednesday morning to the cafe on Parker Street. I think you should go there when you wake up. Freya: Just in case you’re thinking of backing out, remember we shook on it. £100 is yours if you last the month. Freya: I want a big, dramatic breakup too. He needs to be destroyed.

You look at your room, noting the peeling wallpaper, dirty carpet stains and heaps of old clothes stacked in piles. Guilt mixes with regret, but you know you can’t back out; not only did you agree to do it, but you need the money. Your bank account has £1.12, with rent due again at the end of the month. You can’t miss up an opportunity like this, not as a broke university student drowning in student loans.

So it’s with much reluctance that you get up and pull on some clean clothes, grab a quick breakfast bar, and vault out of your flat, beginning the short walk to the café a few streets away. It’s a busy January morning, the air holding a sharp bite of cold, so you’re relieved to push yourself into the café and feel the swell of warm air wash over you. You flex your fingers as you get into the queue, finishing up prodding your frozen cheeks as you try to get your circulation moving again.

Thankfully fate seems to be on your side this morning. Just as you’re going up to collect your tea, you look around and see Harrison nestled away in a corner booth, a large laptop set up on the wooden table. You startle, somehow not expecting to see him, and feel a bunch of nerves take hold of your body. You wrap your shaking fingers around your tea and attempt to put them aside as you slowly walk towards him, knowing the sweet promise of £100 lies in your ability to hit it off after this first conversation.

He looks up as you approach, pale blue eyes meeting yours. An instinctive smile twitches over your lips as you gesture at the free seat across from him.

“Hey,” you start, stumbling over your words a little, “Do you mind if I sit here?”

His eyes sweep the rest of the café, no doubt taking in the multiple free tables.  A beat passes, and then much to your surprise and imminent relief, he nods. His mouth returns the quiet grin. “Yeah, ‘course.” He reaches out and moves stacks of paper aside, the glint of his ring catching your eye. “I’m Harrison.”

You slip down into the seat, giving him your best welcoming smile. “Y/N,” you reply. You feel your heartbeat slow as he closes his laptop, giving you his undivided attention. Going by the open inquisition in his eyes, he doesn’t seem to remember you from the night before.

“What brings you here then, Y/N?” He asks, voice smooth. He runs a hand through his loose blond curls, tongue slipping out to wetten his lower lip, and for the first time, you find yourself thinking that he looks cute.

“A friend recommended it to me,” you explain. You pause to take a quick sip of your tea. “It’s lovely here.” You gesture at the large windows, vintage furniture, and end with a cheeky wave in his direction. “So many different things to look at.”

Harrison’s eyes glint with amusement as he laughs, the rich sound bouncing around the room. “It’s a lot nicer since you walked in,” he replies, causing you to giggle. A warm silence envelopes you both, until, “Right, I’m going to go get another coffee.” He ambles up slowly, a large grey hoodie drowning out his figure. He meets your eyes, and the intensity you find in them causes a shiver to travel down your spine. “Don’t go anywhere, please,” he adds, voice softer.

You nod and he walks off to join the queue, occasionally looking back at you to smile or wave.

Just from that, you can tell you’ve had partial success. He’s hooked, and it’s only been a few minutes. Now you just have to reel him in…

---------

It goes well. Really well. Your meeting at the coffee shop morphs into a walk around your local park before ending back at the cafe, the both of you chatting like old friends - or, if you include the flirting in your evaluation, old lovers.

You end up walking down the street towards your flat, your arm nudging against Harrison’s, with real butterflies racing in your heart. For the past few hours, you’ve forgotten your objective: to seduce him before breaking his heart; you’ve simply been living in the moment, and now you’re realising that he’s actually the type of guy you’d go for.

Your breath crystallises in the air as you move beside him, edging closer and closer to your flat. When you reach it, you can’t help but frown, disappointed that your time with Harrison has come to an end. You feel like you were just beginning to know him.

“Right,” you murmur, stilling by the entrance. You look at Harrison, a smile on your face. “This is me. Thanks so much for bringing me back.”

He’s close to you - really close - still wearing that grey hoodie and a pair of dark-washed jeans. A teasing smile lies over his lips as he tilts his head a little to the side, eyes alight with mischief.

“Not gonna say goodbye, love?”

And you laugh, but move closer. A moment of hesitation takes you, only to be washed away when his hands wrap around your waist and he tugs you closer, his body heat seeping through you. Your hands move up, fingers nestling in his curls, and before you know it, you’ve got your lips on his, moving slowly, testingly. He pushes back, deepening the kiss, and though it’s brief, his lips are warm and wet and lovely.

You dive in for a quick peck of his cheek before moving back, face warming considerably as he watches you move towards the large entrance doors, winking obviously.

“Call me!” He hollers after you.

“Will do!”

And then you’re inside, hurrying up to your flat before you can turn back and make a fool of yourself. As soon as you’re back within the safety of your place, you flop down on your sofa and immediately whip out your phone, opening a conversation with Freya.

Y/N: I don’t think I can do this. Harrison’s a good guy, I don’t want to hurt him.

Plus, you’re kinda hoping you can have a relationship with him. It’s only been a few hours, but you know already that he’s someone you could have a great time with.

You only have to wait thirty seconds for a response.

Freya: You don’t know him like I do. Trust me, he’s not a good person. You agreed to this tho, Y/N. I’ll put it up to £200 if I have to.

It’s as if pound signs flash in front of your eyes as you stare at the number, your gaze then moving back to the broken coffee table in front of you. Fuck, you really need that cash…

What’s one boy, anyway? So what if you have a spark with Harrison? There have been people before him, and there will be people after too. It’s not like you need to have him, longterm.

Y/N: Fine. I’ll follow it through. I’m not happy with this tho.

Freya: Good.

And then you quickly delete the conversation and open a new one with Harrison. As you settle into easy conversation with him, you focus on pushing the guilt from your heart.

It’s not technically lying to him, right? You do like him - your heart does flutter a little whenever your phone buzzes with a new text; you did want to kiss him, and you did enjoy it. You can still have a real relationship with him, it’ll just have an invisible timer strapped to the end of it. There’s nothing wrong with that... Right?

---------

Three weeks later you’re over at Harrison’s, and as you stare at the ceiling of his bedroom, recovering your breath, you know you’re absolutely fucked.

It’s spiralled. Everything has spiralled. Your heart, your feelings, your relationship… Fuck. You’ve really messed up.

The bedroom door opens and closes with a soft click, disrupting your thoughts. “Here’s some water,” Harrison greets, voice smooth. He’s wearing a pair of sweats, his sculpted upper half bare and glistening from the warm light of his bedside lamp. His hair lies messily over his skull, his eyes soft and gentle, and he helps you up as you sit up against his headboard, pulling sheets around your naked form.

“Thank you,” you whisper, taking a long sip from the glass. Once you’ve drained it, you put it down on a coaster and reach for your discarded t-shirt, pulling that over your head before Harrison can see anymore of you.

Speaking of the man that’s worked your heart into knots, he’s sat on the end of your bed, watching you with a large grin on his face.  “Are you alright?” He asks, scratching his jaw with his slender fingers. “Did you- I guess, did you have a good time?”

You grin lazily, nodding along. “I had a great time.” And you did. You really did.

He was kind and warm and gentle, taking his time to make sure you were well looked after. You felt seen - for the first time in months, it felt as though someone actually saw you and decided they cared for you, and he made you feel really fucking nice. It also felt nice, and now it’s as though your body is overcome with a gentle tingling warmth, and a need to burrow your way into his arms and stay there forever.

Harrison’s a great guy. Truly. Amazing.

Which is why the fact you have to break things off in a week for money is not exactly sitting well with you.

“I’m so glad,” he murmurs, voice quiet. He begins to move up the bed, expression warm. “Can I come up here?”

You shuffle a little to the side, patting the warm spot invitingly. Harrison moves up, and the both of you end up laying down, the lamp flickering off until it’s just you, Harrison, and a darkened room. He begins to speak quietly, his hushed tones driving the dagger further into your heart.

“You know… When I met you the other week, I wasn’t sure where this was going to go, but I never thought we’d end up here.” His hand slips beneath the duvet, catching yours. He links your fingers together and squeezes gently. “But I- And I don’t want to scare you or come on too strongly, or anything, because I know it hasn’t really been that long, love, just-” He pauses, laughing quietly. “I like you, Y/N. A whole lot more than I’d bargained for when you first sat down at my table.”

And you smile sadly because you feel exactly the same. You’d seen the promise of £100 in Harrison’s eyes, but now you can see months and years of happiness in his heart. You can see your relationship progressing, and progressing, and progressing, and-

You can’t do this anymore.

“Is my phone just there?” You mumble, momentarily disregarding all that Harrison’s said. He fumbles for a moment before passing you the device. “Thank you.”

Y/N: I’m not doing this anymore. You can keep the money, it’s not worth it.

You put your phone down before rolling back over, pushing your way into Harrison’s arms and pressing a kiss to his collarbones. You drag your lips over his skin, a smile growing as he chuckles, his arms going to hold your waist.

“I like you a lot too,” you mumble against his skin. You tilt your head and blink up at him, the darkness obscuring all but his lazy grin. Your lips find his and you kiss him until your heart feels warmer.

Your phone bings, disrupting your thoughts.

Freya: You promised. You can’t back out now. Freya: But if you’re determined, I guess it’ll still hurt him to know you only started going out with him for money.

You feel your blood run cold.

“Do you, uh, know someone called Freya?” You ask. Because it’s been playing on your mind for a while, really; why does she want to hurt Harrison? What happened between them that was so intense it forged a path of darkness in her heart?

He stills, halting the circles he was drawing on your lower back. “Yeah.” He sounds harder. “She’s my ex.”

You feel your jaw slacken. “Oh…”

“She thought I cheated on her, but I wouldn’t ever do that to someone.” His voice clips around the edges, his hot breath landing on your forehead. “She took some texts completely out of context and blew up before I could explain them.” He pauses, sighing. “It was a very messy breakup.”

A month ago, you might’ve been inclined to believe Freya: you did, in fact, when she’d looked you in the eyes and told you Harrison deserved to have his heart broken. And it makes sense now: she’d been hurt by him, and wanted him to feel an ounce of that heartache. But that’s wrong.

Anger flares in your chest.

Y/N: You need to move on. This isn’t healthy.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” you whisper, picking up one of Harrison’s hands. You play with his fingers. “She doesn’t sound very nice.”

“No, she wasn’t, in the end.” He brings your hand to his mouth and leaves a soft kiss to the back of it. “‘S alright now, though. I’ve moved on, found someone… Someone really special. That’s all in the past now.”

You hum quietly.

Freya: I will.

Freya: But I’m still going to tell him.

---------

A tantalising few weeks follow.

Freya ignores your texts and calls, leaving you completely in the dark over her next actions. You’re left an anxious mess, terrified that every text is going to be one from her, lording her power over your head, or one from Harrison, his words seething as he curses you out for playing with his heart.

And you know you should tell him. Of course you should tell him. But actually opening your mouth, looking him in the eye and telling him that you only gave him a second look because of a bribe is too hard; you know Harrison well enough now to recognise that his pride is strong and his head firm. He won’t appreciate learning about this - especially given the fact that it’s been six weeks and you’ve had ample opportunity to fess up.

You can’t tell him. Not after all this time. Maybe not ever.

Harrison: I’m outside. You coming?

You look down at your screen, sighing loudly. After responding affirmatively, you snatch one final glance in the mirror and smooth down your dress. It’s one of Harrison’s friend’s birthdays today, and you were invited as Harrison’s plus one to go out clubbing with the group. You spent hours getting ready, yet still you feel something off in the air. You pout at your reflection, trying to isolate what it is that’s wrong about the atmosphere, but you can’t quite put a finger on it.

After shrugging on a large jacket and grabbing your bag, you leave your grotty flat and hurry outside, quickly slipping into Harrison’s passenger seat. He turns his head just in time to meet your lips, and you kiss him quickly as your heartbeat twirls around your chest, your mind clearing, lifting, releasing. You really like him.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, mouth brushing yours. You pull away, beaming at him as you sit back.

“I missed you too,” you return. You pull out a mirror and start to tidy up your lipstick as Harrison pulls out into traffic and starts the journey to the club. “So who’s this friend again?”

“Tuwaine,” he responds, voice smooth. You look at him, marvelling at the strength of his side profile as his eyebrows pull together in concentration. “You’ll meet all the gang, though. And probably a few others.”

“Who can I expect to meet?”

He hums. “Tom, Harry, Sam, Nick, Rory, Wallis, Sai, Sophie, Freya-”

“Freya?!” You feel your lipstick slip through your fingers, your eyes rounding in alarm as your heartbeat suddenly spikes.

“Oh, yeah…” Harrison looks a little sheepish. “It should be okay, though. She texted me the other week to apologise for her actions, ‘said she wants to go back to being friends actually.” He glances quickly to you, eyebrows pulled together. “Sorry, I probably should’ve told you I was talking to my ex.”

You hum, feeling a little lightheaded. “No, no, that’s okay.”

It’s not okay.

As if on cue, your phone vibrates against your leg. You pull it out, sucking in a quiet breath of air as your eyes scan the lines.

Freya: Heard you’ll be here tonight. Can’t wait to see you again.

“Fuck,” you mutter, quickly turning off your phone with slippery fingers.

“What- Y/N, are you alright?”

You’re at a red light, so Harrison’s able to reach over the console and push at your shoulder, his eyes concerned. You blink a few times before realising you’re sitting there shaking, your jaw slack, eyes wide and frozen. As you work on relaxing your posture, Harrison edges the car closer to the club.

“I need to tell you something,” you mutter. Then, a little louder, “Harrison, I- I’m really sorry.”

“What happened?”

The car slows, and it’s with a low gasp that you realise you’ve arrived. Harrison pops up out of his seat and moves around the car, and before you know it, you’re being hauled out of the passenger seat and into his arms, the two of you standing there swaying slowly in the club car park. It’s so ridiculous that you almost want to laugh.

“I- I didn’t want it to end up being this fucked up,” you start, pulling back from his shoulder. He loops his fingers with yours, his other shifting up to cup your cheek. You press against his touch, aching to feel his warmth smother your body, and knowing that this might be the last time he holds you this delicately.

“What is it?” He murmurs, coaxing softly.

You look at him, and you decide to say it. Just...spell it out for him, once and for all, before Freya can swoop in and steal your moment. This is your mess, after all. It should be you to tell Harrison what you’ve done.

“I’ve already met Freya-”

There’s a loud clip-clop of high heels, and you startle when you feel a large tap on your back. You turn, shifting out of Harrison’s hold as you see the woman behind you. Blond, tall, menacing.

You want to cry.

“Looks like I almost missed the party,” she says, raising a hand in greeting. Her eyes flicker over to yours. “You told him yet, hun?”

You can feel Harrison tense up behind you and instinctively move back to wrap your hands around his arm.

“Fuck off,” is all you have to say. “You don’t… You don’t have to do this.”

She shrugs. “I just thought he should know the truth. Maybe at first I wanted this for revenge, but now I just want the best for Harrison.” Her beady eyes shift onto your lover, and you feel a shudder pass down your spine. “He deserves to know what kind of person he’s getting into bed with.”

Harrison’s attention shifts down to you as he steps away, shaking you off his arm. “What is she talking about?” He asks, voice stippled with confusion. “Is this what you were just trying to tell me?”

“Harrison, she’s not- it’s not- she’s going to try and manipulate the situation, I swear, I didn’t ever-”

“-Y/N only gave you a second look because I bribed her. With money. Your entire relationship exists because I was paying her to seduce you.” And she looks all smug stood up there, arms crossed over her chest, eyes glinting. “Of course I called it off the next day as soon as I realised how selfish that was, but she insisted that she’d get her money. Now we’re here, six weeks later.”

Harrison’s face changes a few times. First, he looks bewildered, then concerned, then hurt, then…

“What the fuck.” He jerks his arm away from you and whips his head around to stare at you, jaw open, eyes flaming. “You’re being paid to date me?!”

You reply with a cracking no just as Freya nods her head.

“Yes,” Freya chimes. “You want to know how much you mean to her? £100. That’s all it took.”

You want to cry, but one look at her smug face has your hackles rising. If you’re going to go down, you may as well try to rectify your errors. “Harrison, it’s not like that,” you jump in, voice harrowed. “She didn’t ever call it off, I did, and she- she set this all up, it wasn’t like that, I just-”

“So you’re not even going to deny it?” He’s staring at the ground, voice utterly dejected.

“I tried to call it off-”

“But you agreed to it?” His gaze snaps up to yours, hurt coating every part of his face. You feel your heart splinter in your chest as you see tears blurring his waterline. “You only came and sat with me because she promised to pay you?”

You sniff loudly, nodding quickly.

“How much of our relationship was just a lie?”

You step forward, trying to slip your fingers into his, but he dodges you instead. “None of it was a lie, Harrison. I texted her the moment I got home after that first date. I- I really like you, truly-”

“Oh, leave it.” Harrison pulls his key out of his pocket and unlocks his car, eyes blazing. He looks to Freya. “You know, I tried to fix things with you but you couldn’t ever trust me. I didn’t want to hurt you.” His eyes shift to you, and you feel a tear roll down your cheek at the depths of absolute betrayal swimming there. “And you…” He jerks open his car door. “Don’t ever contact me again. I can’t believe someone could be this manipulative and cruel.”

And you want to beg him to hear you out, but he’s already in his car, and before you can shake the shock from your bones, he’s reversing out of the space and driving away, his car leaving a trail of exhaust that rattles your throat. Your fingers dig into your cheeks as you cry softly, your heart shattering.

“Well… Sorry.” Freya’s speaking again, and you want to throttle her. “He had to get his heartbroken somehow, and you refused to break up with him, so what was I supposed to do?”

You turn on her, shaking your head bitterly. “Haz- Haz is the nicest person I’ve met in my life. He didn’t deserve that.”

She shrugs. “Whatever, I got what I wanted.” She turns around. “I’m going in. I’ll tell the others neither of you will be making an appearance.”

---------

The next few days are difficult.

First and foremost, Harrison ignores your messages. Every time you try to text or phone him, he just ignores you. He blocks you on Instagram, Snapchat and Twitter, and apparently enlists the help of his friends too as you’re unable to contact any of them either. You’re left utterly iced out, and are forced to knock around your empty, disgusting flat by yourself for a week, wallowing completely.

Seven days of crying, eating and generally feeling sorry pass before you decide to do something about the situation. Guilt has replaced all else, and now you know that you have to see Harrison - if not to win him back, to explain yourself. You don’t want him to feel bad about the situation or doubt his worth.

So you pull yourself together just enough to walk to his flat one evening, practically vibrating from nerves. You don’t let them stop you, however, and march the whole way, not once faltering.

You know what you want, and you’re going to achieve it. No matter what.

You rap on Harrison’s door with determined fists and stand back, waiting. Seconds stretch to minutes, and just as you’re beginning to worry that you might be too late, the door swings open, and there he is.

Harrison, frowning. But Harrison nonetheless.

“What are you doing here?” He mutters, twiddling his ring. He hasn’t really looked at you, but you try not to let that phase you.

“We need to talk,” you beg. “Please can I come in?”

He hesitates. “Can you stay there?” He asks, voice soft. His shoulders are slumped and he has steep dark bags hanging beneath his eyes, and you feel your body throb sadly as you realise it’s your fault.

“Yeah, I- I’ll stay.” You take a moment to recompose yourself. “I thought you needed an explanation of everything. I don’t… I don’t expect you to want me back, or to even want to be friends because I know I hurt you, I just… I need to tell you that none of it is your fault.”

He continues to stare at the ground.

“When Freya asked me to break your heart, I didn’t even know who you were. You were only a face in a club, and I was drunk, and I needed the money. I didn’t know that you were a nice person, or that I’d end up actually liking you. When I started to catch feelings, I tried to pull out, but she wouldn’t let me.” You have to pause, taking time to diminish the heat growing in your voice. “As soon as I fell for you, I tried to put an end to it, Haz. Nothing… Nothing about our relationship was fake. I really liked you. I really like you. That’s just- just what I wanted to say.”

“You still dated me for money,” he mutters, voice dull. “You could’ve told me any time you wanted, yet you never did. That would’ve hurt less than hearing it from her.”

“I know.” You hang your head. “I just hope that someday you can understand. I didn’t do it to hurt you - I didn’t even know you when I agreed - I just needed money. I’m really, really fucking sorry I hurt you, and one day I hope you can forgive me.”

You wait for a few moments, hoping he’ll look up. Hoping he’ll say it’s okay. Hoping he can find it in his heart to forgive you.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he stands there, continuing to look at the floor, and after a minute of uncomfortable silence, you turn and walk away down his corridor. Your heart is still broken, but you feel less guilty; less horrible now that you’ve explained yourself. Your actions aren’t excused, but they’re explained, and you hope that will help Harrison.

You really do. After all you’ve put him through, the only thing you want is for him to be happy.

---------

Days stretch to weeks, and with no sign of Harrison reappearing, you try to move on.

It’s hard. You might’ve only dated him for a month and a half, but you saw him practically every day, and so there’s evidence of him embedded everywhere: your phone’s photo library contains picture after picture of him, both with and without you nestled up beside him; your wardrobe houses an array of his hoodies you can’t bear to give back; you look in the mirror each morning and subconsciously slide your fingers over your neck, drifting over all the points he’d enjoyed marking with his lips. He’s like an illness that you can’t quite shake, no matter how hard you try.

It’s early on a Wednesday morning in March when there’s a loud knock at your door. You’re bustling around your kitchen, making a cup of tea when you hear it, and quickly jump to pull it open, not caring about your just-rolled-out-of-bed appearance, nor the state of your untidy flat.

“Hi, sorry about- Harrison?!” And suddenly your hands are on your hair, combing through the unruly strands. You become hyper-aware of the fact that you’re stood there in his hoodie, looking like you were pulled through a hedge backwards. “What- What are you doing here?”

He looks good. Radiates a sort of confidence that has your back lengthening, straightening. His blue eyes drift over you, a semblance of a smile twitching over his mouth as he raises a hand in greeting. “Can I come in?”

You nod immediately. “Of course you can.” You shuffle out of the way and let him inside your flat. “Sorry it’s messy,” you mumble. With wide eyes, you realise this is the first time Harrison’s ever visited; before, it was always you going over to his. “How’d you find out where I live?”

He slips out of his shoes and pushes his long brown coat up onto a peg, humming lowly. “Got it off Sair,” he explains, bringing in a mutual friend. “It’s not… not that messy,” he tries, eyes sweeping your flat.

You feel your cheeks warm. “It’s pretty bad,” you dispute. You guide him over to your sofas, thanking your past self for having the initiative to move the piles of mugs and plates that’d made home on the dodgy coffee table over the weeks since Harrison. You sit down on one end, pulling your legs beneath you as you look at him, your eyes unable to understand that he’s here: he came back. “What- What are you doing here? I mean, obviously I’m really glad you came over, just… Why?”

Harrison looks down at his hands, a few of his fingers going to play around with his ring. “I spoke to Freya again,” he mumbles. He looks up suddenly, eyes searching yours. “And I talked to some other people as well. ‘Was trying to figure out how I felt about everything.”

You nod along, trying to follow as best you can. It’s a little distracting, to have him sat so close, looking so good, but you’re trying. “What did she say?”

“Well…” He pauses to scratch his jawline. “Freya and I had a lot of air to clear, but I think she’s actually going to move on now. She showed me the text messages between you guys, and gave what I think is an accurate description of your actions.”

“Okay.” You continue to nod. This is… This is good, right? He doesn’t seem angry.

“So then I went and talked with some of the guys, tried to figure out where my head was at.” Harrison’s a little closer now, his eyes seeking yours more strongly. “I didn’t know how I felt about you.”

For a moment, you grow panicked. Maybe he’s just here to argue again, or to pull an apology from you. Maybe he wants closure. Maybe-

“I still want to try with you.” And there it is.

You can’t help but feel your eyes bulge. “You do?!”

He chuckles, nodding a bit. He slides further up the sofa and tentatively reaches down to pick up your hands, his lips arranged in a shy smile. “If you want to… I understand now. Whilst I don’t think it was a good thing to do, I understand you were only doing it for money.” His eyes flick around your flat, taking in the broken microwave, stained wallpaper and old carpet. “I know now that you tried to stop it when it got out of hand. And…” He’s peering up at you with gentle eyes. “I’d like to think what we have is pretty special.”

The relief is immediate and monumental. Harrison’s thumb strokes over the back of your hand as you blink back a few surprised tears, your heart beating slowly, deeply.

“Are you… Do you… Are you sure?” Is your first response, unbelieving that it’s just… that easy.

“Yeah.” He nods certainly, squeezing your fingers. “I like you so much, Y/N. If you- If you still want me, want this, then I’m all in.” His hand guides yours up, up, up, until you have your palm resting up against his heart. “When you left my flat the other week, you took a part of me with you.” His voice is dark, deep and silky, and it makes you so utterly happy that you find yourself scrambling closer.

He pulls you in, helping you settle yourself over his lap as your arms drape over his shoulders, his going to hold your waist. You bury your head in his chest as your eyes screw shut, and as the earthy scent of his expensive cologne drifts over you, you realise it’s all okay.

His lips spread a few kisses over the top of your head as he rubs your side, touch instilling warmth into your long-forgotten bones.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, pulling back from his chest to blink up at him. “Haz, fuck, I’m so sorry.”

He smooths his hands down your hair. “It’s alright, love. It’s already forgiven.” And then his eyes are drifting down to your lips, face lightening. “Could I kiss you?”

You nod, already moving up. His breath fans out over your face for a tentative moment as your lips lay stranded in the air, so close you can almost feel his mouth, waiting for some invisible cue to move. Your fingers slip up to fist his curls, and then he’s shifting in, his lips capturing yours in a deep, warming kiss. He keeps you anchored close, his hands hauling you in as the kiss grows in passion and intensity. Your mouths communicate all you fail to show, and as you enjoy the feeling of your lips moving as one, you try to tell him all you’ve been thinking: I’m sorry, I missed you, I think I might love you.

It’s perfect. Full of tender and emotion and love.

When you pull back, he cradles your cheek in his hand, blinking down at you through long lashes. A teasing smile finds his lips as he chuckles, his hands rubbing circles into your sides.

“Missed this,” he mumbles. He waits a moment, eyes skimming your face, growing in warmth. “I was thinking, and…” His fingertips skim over your cheekbones. “Would you be my girlfriend?”

Not for the first time, you feel like you’re going to cry. Just, this time, it’s a result of the tingling happiness in your heart. It feels as though the rips embedded inside the warm organ have healed; been stitched up by his large hands, soft lips, and gentle words. 

“I would love that,” you mutter. But still, “Are you sure, though?” You pull your eyes away from his face. “I really hurt you, Harrison. I don’t ever want to be the reason you’re sad.”

“Well, are you planning on dating me for money again?”

You shake your head, a smile replacing your frown.

“Then I think we’ll be alright.”

You nod, pressing a short kiss to his jaw. “I’d love to be your girlfriend,” you murmur against his neck. You spread a gentle scattering of kisses over his skin, dragging your lips up his face. You manage to leave a chaste peck on the end of his nose before he’s pulling you closer, stealing your lips in another deep kiss.

And things aren’t perfect, because life doesn’t really work out that way. But you’re warm and happy, and utterly content, and you’re being held in the strong arms of your boyfriend. And for the first time in months, it feels like life might work out alright, after all.

---------

any feedback? I would love to hear any thoughts you have on this!

masterlist

taglist ↠ see this post to be added :D

@illumminated @loverhiandrews @peter-prkr @krazykiara @gendryia @ripesummertimes @xxronniesworld @roman-holiiday @oh-balls-you-idjits

[thiccth0t]

Manifesting my future/blueprint:

❤️ Me and Bosh my current boyfriend will start focusing on our relationship more than our hustle because our finances will look amazing, all our wants and needs will be taken care of and we will have a baby otw if not already here. We will have a very healthy, exotic, relationship. Most people won't understand. Because I'm an exotic dancer\sw. He in an entrepreneur his business was started by my money and that's hard for people to understand. But when we got together we saw our common goals and only had some knowledge on what to do with it but we chased our goals head first. Things were uncomfortable at first, but we learned from our mistakes and kept going. Now I dance in the club occasionally but only as a hobby now days. I have a hand ful of sugar daddies that take very good care of me and I actually enjoy the company of all of them. I care for all of them but don't love them like I do bosh. I have created a very healthy boundary of my feelings for bosh vs. Trix. Bosh works a lot and in his company he was able to put his homeboys on as well so he is out with the boys working a lot, they travel, ect. I get jealous but me and Bosh are not only madly in love we came from the mud together and no one will be able to do with him. I am a wonderful step mom to jelani. We have a beautiful bond that I'd never thought Id have with her. But I love her to death and we spend a lot of time together. Me and Oliver are still working on our mother son relationship and what that's going to look like. Me and Bosh are expecting a girl together. Me and my dad are rekindling our relationship as he sees I am able to do life on my own without causing hell. I am still serving a 5 year probation sentence. I got real close to going to prison but I didn't thank god.

[schu-lore]

Strass Effrek

The crew of the USS Normandy, flagship of the Federation, deal with subspace distortions that threaten to rip their ship apart as well as personal tensions between the brilliant yet impulsive Captain, the first officer, and a young turian security officer. Star Trek/Mass Effect fusion with plenty of references to all three games, Next Gen, and DS9.

Link to AO3 post is here

The USS Normandy sped onwards. It was the pinnacle of engineering, built with the genius of individuals from disparate cultures once at odds but now brought together. It skipped through the interstellar gulfs at far more than merely the speed of light. Its sleek hull shrugged off the waves and curves of spacetime around it like a boat cuts through the ocean swell, leaving an intangible wake echoing in the empty spaces. Within its confines many races worked away like gears in a vast machine, tirelessly adjusting and double-checking the systems. Ensigns crawled through the access tubes and scientists analyzed cryptic data and oddities from previous missions. In the rear of the ship the glow of engines illuminated the faces of engineers at their consoles, making their black-and-yellow uniforms look gray and green. It gave all their skins a bluish tinge, except the asari, who always looked like that.

The warp core was working at higher than normal efficiency, possibly because of a few new salarian ensigns that had graduated from the academy at light speed - understandable given their short lifespan and fast metabolism - and now were showing up the senior staff with fancy new techniques. Not that I’m jealous, Chief Engineer Tali’Zorah nar Rayya thought to herself as she recalibrated the phaser banks. Just that sometimes practical experience should be valued a little more, compared to theoretical breakthroughs. The engines were working fine . . . now. What if there was a power surge? Or a subspace anomaly? Systems on a starship like this needed to be able to take a great deal of stress, especially since the Federation kept pushing through new untested tech whose unpredictable failures were distressingly commonplace. Back home in the Flotilla reliability and durability were paramount; nothing was ever added without backups. No quarian captain would jeopardize lives, not to mention a valuable ship, just to have the cutting edge equipment. The quarian reputation as tinkerers was overstated, at least when it came to the ship and engines.

Tali surveyed the engine room from her vantage point at the central console. The engineers were probably twenty percent salarian, a few asari, and the rest evenly split between humans and turians. And her. A bit of a minority, quarians in Starfleet. Few of the nomadic race wanted anything to do with it, though they were highly sought after by the academy recruiters. So why was she here? The tinkerer stereotype worked in her favor here. Starfleet was always tinkering with things, often beyond what she considered advisable.

“Don’t you have people to do that for you?” a turian said, peering over her shoulder quizzically and startling her. His uniform was yellow, like hers, but the phaser at his hip said he was no engineer.

“Shirking your duties, Vakarian? Shouldn’t you be up on the bridge?” Tali continued with her task as she talked. The ship’s phasers, new supposedly improved versions, were extremely finicky when it came to power input and needed to be carefully calibrated by hand until the computer could be taught to match their precision. It was delicate work even without Garrus Vakarian bothering her. “You never know when a gaggle of vorcha pirates will beam in and try to kidnap the captain.”

“The security chief is in with him now, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Wrex can handle anything the galaxy throws at Shepard, and if he can’t, well, I’m better off down here. Oh, I like the look of these new phaser arrays. You should let me get in there and try.”

“No thank you, you . . . gun-toting meathead. I’m doing fine . . . juust . . . okay, there goes the second bank. What are they discussing, something important?”

Garrus shrugged. “They don’t tell me anything they don’t tell you down here.”

Tali almost laughed, but with difficulty kept her focus on the keys. “From what I hear down here, you’re getting in pretty good with the captain. Always going on away missions, sitting in on senior officer meetings. Some people are probably a little jealous of your level of access.”

Garrus frowned. “Wrex doesn’t mind, he likes me there because I actually take notes on what was said-”

“I didn’t mean Wrex,” said Tali. “I mean Commander Alenko.”

“I don’t know what you are referring to. Commander Alenko and I are on . . . professionally appropriate terms. As am I and the captain.”

“Of course! Whatever you say. Keelah! I can’t do this with you looking over my shoulder!” She shooed him away. “Go talk to the captain! I’m sure he needs something calibrated.”

Garrus lingered for a minute, looking longingly at the screen, then retreated to the turbolift, muttering something about deference to authority and platonic relationships, which Tali ignored as she attempted to force the phasers to behave within an acceptable range of error.

“Bosh’tet. Bosh’tet. Bosh - oh, there we are.” She sighed with relief and sudden release of frustration. The main banks would need to be recalibrated every time they fired, of course, but who knew when that would be necessary; this wasn’t a warship, after all. And if they were, maybe she could let Garrus do it for her - and check it thoroughly afterwards. A hobbyist couldn’t pass for a real engineer, especially on a top-of-the line starship like the USS Normandy. But it would make him happy, at least. With Commander Alenko aboard there was little that could.

The order came down to drop out of warp, and the engineering team executed it more smoothly than machines acting out programmed routines, a testament to their training and her leadership. The deck rumbled slightly, a low sound that lasted a few seconds, before petering out. A few engineers paused what they were doing. Tali gave them a stern look. Granted, no one could see her face behind the tinted glass wall of her protective visor, but they knew her well enough to get back to their tasks. She was unphased by the rumble; quarian vessels shook much worse than that when returning to sublight speeds.

It was unusual, however, for the Normandy. She found herself checking the inertial dampeners, taking several minutes to scan through the lines of raw data. A failure could mean ripping the ship into shreds the next time they jumped to superluminal, splattering the crew into a fine mist in the process.

The inertial dampeners were functioning well, if struggling a bit under increased demands. Tali scanned the lines of data, looking for the source of the added strain, not liking what she found. “Computer?” she said.

A calm, electronic female voice emanating from apparently nowhere spoke up at once. “As I have told you before, Chief Tali’Zorah, you may refer to me as EDI.”

“As I have told you before, I do not much care for your new personality, computer. Computer, have we come out of warp?”

“Yes, Chief Tali’Zorah. We came out of warp approximately five minutes fifteen seconds ago. We are operating on impulse engines only.”

“I see that, right in front of me, you . . . abomination! I’m also seeing anomalous figures on our current velocity.”

“Please read figures to confirm anomaly.”

Tali read them out loud.

“Figures are not anomalous. We are currently accelerating, warp velocity, relative to standard reference points.”

“What?” Tali confirmed on her screen, as did the other engineers. Some held themselves as far from the consoles as they could while still typing in anticipation of sparks.

“Alert the bridge, advise full stop, while we take a look at the warp core down here. Daniels, Adams, make sure warp and impulse engines are functioning properly and check the isolinear circuits for defects.” Adams stayed at his console while Daniels scrambled with a team of engineers to the Jeffries tubes.

“The captain is ordering full stop impulse engines.”

Tali shouted at Engineer Adams and his fingers became a blur on the console. They waited a few seconds.

“The captain is ordering full reverse impulse engines.”

Again they waited. Tali almost thought she could hear the superstructure creaking on the edge of infrasound, but she could have been imagining it.

“The captain is ordering full reverse, warp engines, Warp 1.”

Bracing herself, Tali punched in the instructions personally.

There was a massive creaking, audible this time. Everything seemed to sway. She checked the inertial dampeners again. The stream of numbers were positive, countering a force that wanted to throw everything towards the back bulkhead as the ship accelerated forwards. But they struggled less now, which was a little reassuring.

“The captain is ordering full reverse, warp engines, Warp 2,” said EDI. “As I am also telling him now, this is extremely risky. There is a great likelihood it will cause significant structural damage.” Pause. “He is ordering full reverse, warp engines, Warp 2, along with some profanity I do not think is necessary to pass on.”

“I liked you better before you commented on our jobs, computer,” said Tali, but she hesitated. The unholy abomination of science was right. No ship was meant to go backwards at Warp 2, much less in opposition to this unexplained motive force, and the ship could end up squashed between the two like a pyjak in one of Wrex’s sandwiches. Tali hesitated, then without waiting for an order - she could always apologize later if they survived - she began the sequence to eject the warp core.

Before she could get far into it, however, a blinking red error message emerged on the screen: Emergency Automatic Shut Down. The warp core in front of her started to dim, as did the lighting in the room, emergency power kicking in to keep essential systems running.

“What? What is this?” she yelled.

One of the salarians piped up, speaking quickly with his amphibian lips, blinking his large wet eyes in terror, “We added some safety measures. To the computers, particularly here in Engineering. Which you seemed to be lacking. Such as, a shutdown in case of hull stress, in the event of the engines exceeding recommended speeds.”

“WHAT?” said Tali. “You messed with the SAFETY PROTOCOLS!?”

“Only to make them more safe!” The salarian’s face was bathed red in emergency lighting on one side, blue from the warp core on the other.

“Bosh’tet.” Tali sighed and ran some numbers. “Well, it seems we are now drifting at Warp 3, despite the engines being off and there being no warp field to propel us above light speed. We can’t turn, or stop, since we can’t risk turning the engines back on. Well, we can stop when we eventually hit a star. Computer,” she called, “Get Donnelly down from the transporter room. He’s no use up there.” Tali’Zorah nar Rayya, Chief Engineer on the USS Normandy, paused.

“If the warp core is shut down,” she asked the room in general, “why is it still glowing?”

Garrus went up to holodeck three, as he always did on his time off after Tali inevitably kicked him out of Engineering. There he punched in the code for his favorite recreational program, and walked in, carefully closing the door behind him.

It was pretty conventional for a holoprogram - the wide open moors in the north of Palaven’s largest continent, a sunny morning on a field of metallic shrubs that turned away from the sun, a day when small creatures hid in the shade. He approached a bag lying on the ground, opened it and spread its contents in the silvery grass and moss. An antique, in beautiful condition: M-98 Disruptor Rifle, military grade, exceedingly high-powered. Some might say too high-powered for hunting, and they would be right. But Garrus wasn’t interested in eating any of the creatures he shot, if holoprogram animals were even edible.

Captain Shepard was there, too, in the distance, and as Garrus walked “forward” on the forcefield treadmill that felt so much like the stony ground of his homeworld, he seemed to get closer and closer until they stood side by side. “Oh, hey there Garrus,” said Shepard.

“Shepard,” Garrus acknowledged, unslinging the rifle from his shoulder. Shepard had a similar one, which he held cautiously, as if it were a bit unfamiliar. “Sure you can handle that thing?”

“Oh this?” he replied, gesturing with the rifle. “Can’t be all that different from a phaser, right?” This was what he usually said. Moving through his script. However, the program had a limited ability to create new dialogue to adapt to the situation.

“Try it out,” said Garrus. “See how it feels.”

Shepard took aim at a nearby bush. “Let’s see what this baby can do.” A stream of green energy shot out of the disruptor, destroying the bush in a flash and knocking the rifle out of Shepard’s hands. “Damn!” yelled Shepard. “That thing has a hell of a kick.” Then, an improvisation: “You turians have to be crazy to use such uncivilized weapons.”

Garrus chuckled, “Well, I won’t say we aren’t crazy. This is an older model though, a few centuries old. The kind turians use now are significantly better. See, it has the nickname the ‘Widow’, but it’s an M-98. The M series disruptors featured a number of advances, at the time, in stabilization and beam coherency over longer distances, which . . .”

Shepard listened with rapt attention, nodding at appropriate times and interjecting various trivia about ancient Earth weapons when needed to continue the conversation. Above them the sun remained frozen in early-afternoon splendor over the hazy shining moor.

“Beautiful day in here!” came an unwelcome voice.

Garrus froze. Turning slowly he saw that the holodeck archway had become visible, and leaning against it with crossed arms was Commander Kaidan Alenko. Humans on the real Palaven would have needed an environmental suit, but in here the sun’s rays were just for show.

Kaidan strode into the simulation, pausing and placing one foot on a rock and leaning his elbow on his knee, hand to his chin. “Big place,” he said thoughtfully. A huge boyish grin spread across his face.

“What are you doing here?” said Garrus. Shepard looked on, a little absently. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“Thought we need a little heart-to-heart, and I couldn’t reach you on the coms. What even is this simulation, by the way? Is this Palaven?”

“Yes,” Garrus said, looking around fondly. “Though usually the moors are covered in officers on training retreats this time of year. And it usually isn’t this holographic.”

“The Captain, though? Doctor Chakwas frowns upon recreating real people on the holodeck. Might even send you to talk to Chambers.”

“Well, it’s . . . well. What I do in my recreational time is my own business. What do you want, anyway, Commander?” A sudden thought occurred to Garrus at this point. If he had sweat glands, he would have started to sweat. “Before you answer that, maybe we should take this conversation outside . . . computer, end-”

“Belay that order, computer. Why, Lieutenant? It’s actually kind of nice in here. Your representation of the Captain is really interesting, though I think you made his waist narrower than it is, actually narrower than most humans outside cartoons . . .” Kaidan trailed off as the program moved to its next segment, and a new character trotted up eagerly.

“Shepard! Shepard! I want to come too!” said Kaidan. He scowled at Garrus. “Garrus, let’s have a shooting contest!”

“. . . Seriously, Vakarian?” said Kaidan. He stared, gaping slightly, at the diminutive  hologram version of himself.

Fake Shepard frowned. “Get out of here, Kaidan. You’re so annoying. I’m spending time with my best friend.”

“Why is he shorter?” Real Kaidan wondered aloud. “I’m already shorter than you!”

“Uhhhhhhh,” said Garrus. Thinking of nothing else to say, he continued, “uhhhhhh. . .”

Neither of them had noticed the initial rumbling as the Normandy tried to come out of warp - the forcefield floors and surroundings of the the holodeck provided additional insulation from the rest of the ship. Similarly, the sound of the superstructure groaning under the strain of the warp engines turned in reverse was covered by the whimsically whispering breezes passing softly over the moors. Their first indication that something had gone wrong was the ship switching to reserve power, shutting down nonessential areas, including the simulation. Fake Kaidan and fake Shepard and the flatlands of Palaven faded away, revealing a medium-sized grid marked room and leaving behind Lieutenant Vakarian and Commander Alenko, one confused and embarrassed and the other confused and deeply offended.

“What happened?” said Garrus, eager to change the subject.

Kaidan gave him a scathing look that said “we’ll discuss this later, but not too long later”, and tapped his communicator. “Commander Alenko to bridge, why have we lost power to holodeck three?”

“This is the bridge. We’re experiencing some difficulty coming out of warp. You should get up here, Alenko,” came the voice of Jeff Moreau, the senior helmsman, and one of the few people aboard who could refer to the Commander informally without a rebuke.

“Sure thing, Joker. Lieutenant Vakarian . . . we’ll discuss this later. In the meantime, please keep me out of your holoprograms.”

“If you could hurry it up, Commander,” Moreau broke in again, “there’s a subspace distortion which-”

His voice cut out abruptly.

Frowning, Kaidan tapped his combadge. “Joker?” Garrus tried his as well. There was no response to either. Then they both strode over to the door as fast as they could with dignity - both thinking no doubt of the legendary fragility of the holodeck safety protocols, known to malfunction with the slightest power surge.

One of them alone would have reached the button to open the door and cause the arch to become permanently visible, but as it was the two officers both got there at approximately the same time, and each pulled back slightly at the last moment to avoid running into each other.

In that slight hesitation, the arch disappeared. The moors of Palaven came back, glinting in a perpetual morning sun. Kaidan swore out loud, and Garrus waved his arms around frantically as he searched for the door. “Computer, end program!” Nothing happened.

“Don’t bother. They’ll send someone up to let us out,” said Kaidan. He looked around at the scenery. “At least it’s nice in here.”

Shepard strolled by, his arms swinging nonchalantly and clipping through his torso. As they watched, his face seemed to turn inside-out, revealing bulging eyeballs unconnected to anything. Holographic Kaidan slid by upside-down, balanced on his head, moving his feet as if still walking. The ground beneath them tilted slightly off the horizontal, forcing them both to stumble for their footing.

“Glitches!” Garrus groaned. “They need to get us out of here before we fall through the map.”

“That happens?”

“Barely ever.”

Kaidan tested the ground with his toe, gingerly, and grimaced.

“One paragade, room temperature,” Captain Shepard said, sitting down at the desk in his ready room. “Anything for you, Mr. Wrex?”

“Turian brandy,” Wrex grunted at the replicator.

“You can’t digest turian brandy, Wrex.”

“Eh, I like the challenge. And I hate that synthehol swill.” The krogan sighed, and addressed the replicator again. “One raktajino, then, I guess,” he said, glowering, “with a jacarine peel!”

The drinks appeared in a slow fizzle of light.

“Wrex, I need to talk to you about something.”

“I thought you might,” said Wrex, sipping his raktajino more delicately than he would in anyone’s presence other than the captain, “since here you are, talking to me.”

“Right. Well, it’s a bit of a personal matter. Not related to security.”

“Hah! Not sure I can help you then, Shepard.” The krogan got up to go.

He saw the look on the captain’s face and sat back down.

“See, I want every one of my officers to get along,” Shepard began conversationally, as if nothing had happened, and sipped his drink. “But lately I’ve noticed some tension, particularly between Commander Alenko and Lieutenant Vakarian. They won’t talk to me about it. I was hoping for your input, particularly about the Lieutenant. You two seem pretty close - you’ve worked together for a few years now.”

Wrex groaned. “The two of them can shut up and keep their problems to themselves. Or battle it out with honor, like the krogans do. Starfleet regulations be damned. Those regulations, by the way, also put this outside my jurisdiction, Shep . . . Captain.”

“I know. But as a friend . . .”

“As your friend, I’ll give you some advice: turian gave me a really bad rash once. Once you go dextro, you go to the infirmary. Heh. Just made that up.”

Shepard stood up and paced. He stood at the window, really a very realistic viewscreen, watching phase-shifted stars slip past. “Don’t be so crude, Wrex.”

“Come on, you wanted advice . . .” he finished his raktajino with a slurp. “Wish I had followed that advice.” He tapped the glass of the Captain’s fish tank, scaring away the fish.

“I meant more . . . ethically. Also, to be completely honest, I don’t want to hurt Kaidan’s feelings.”

Wrex shrugged. “He’s an adult.”

“And with Garrus . . . there’s concerns of my authority over him. It might be improper. You know him better.”

“I know he can be discrete, Captain, if that’s what you’re asking. Turians do it that way. Casual. Heh. I was on a turian warbird once, and - oh right, I already told you about the rash. Wasn’t from the food, you know.” A look of painful remembrance crossed Wrex’s squat heavy face. “The food . . . it did other things.”

“Centuries ago this would have been a bigger issue, just on the grounds of xenophobia. I suppose I should be grateful that it’s just an interpersonal issue. Still-”

EDI broke in, “Captain, you are required on the bridge.”

Shepard stood up to go. “I should go.”

“Captain,” nodded Wrex, also standing.

The bridge was in more of a disarray than usual. Shepard noted several sparking consoles, and Helmsman Moreau looked serious for once. Liara T’Soni, the chief science officer, was pacing around the bridge with nervous energy. She turned  as Shepard walked into the room. “Captain, we seem to be stuck accelerating. Warp engines are off, but we’re going even faster than we were before.”

“There are no known instances of a vessel or object maintaining warp velocity while not being propelled by warp engines. This is highly unprecedented,” added EDI from her mobile platform, which was seated at the forward ops station. Shepard was still a little uncomfortable with an android being given a role as an officer on a starship; the fact that she was also the ship’s computer, and so essentially running the operations of herself, only served to confuse him further.

“Full stop, impulse engines,” said Shepard, slipping easily into the Captain's seat.

“Still moving, Cap!” said Joker.

Shepard hesitated. “Full reverse?” he suggested.

When reversing even the power of the warp engines failed, Shepard was nonplussed. It was almost a relief to him when main power shut down without explanation, and he eagerly stood up out of his chair again, throwing the weight of authority off his shoulders as easily as he had put it on. “Where’s Commander Alenko? Never mind. I’m going to look for him.”

Joker activated his communicator. “Captain, he’s in holodeck three, but I’m having trouble getting through. The turbolifts are shut down, so I don’t suggest-”

Shepard was already halfway into a Jeffries tube with a chortling Wrex holding the hatch open for him. “Don’t worry about it, Lieutenant Moreau. Let me know if anything changes.”

“I haven’t even told you our current situation-”

“I should go.” And he went.

The bridge was quiet for a minute.

“I feel like he just checks out during our conversations sometimes,” said Joker. “By the way, everyone, still hurtling through space, and on the current trajectory we’ll run into a small brown dwarf in Krogan space in five years, give or take.”

“Statistically, he is thirty percent more likely to assume a posture that implies he is not being attentive to the speaker when having private conversations with me,” noted EDI. She went on, “I should note that as third officer, Dr. T’Soni is now in command of the bridge, which I take will be acceptable in lieu of a direct proclamation from the commander.” Liara accepted graciously.

“Yeah,” sighed Kelly Chambers. “He never bothers to talk to me anymore, either.”

Seated in the back at the tactical station, Chief Petty Officer Jacob Taylor knew better than to try to join in the conversation.

“In the meantime, Moreau,” Liara said, sitting in the Captain’s chair. “Do what you can to try to slow us down - I’ll have Mordin and the science teams scanning subspace for disturbances that could have caused this.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n.”

“And don’t do that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Deputy Science Officer Mordin Solus banged his tricorder against the wall. “Confounded thing,” he muttered. “Gravitational readings all over the place! Effects on biology of crew, uncertain. Undoubtedly bad. Probably quite averse. Oh dear. I hope it's just the equipment.” He tapped his combadge. “Rana, remember to screen crew for health effects. With possible spatial disruptions, I predict structural abnormalities. In the bones perhaps. For the one with bones. I wonder how that hanar ambassador . . .”

“Sir, I’m a neurospecialist. Send them to me when their brains stop working. Just wait till Chakwa comes on shift in an hour.”

“In-gratitude! After my years of mentorship! Would you rather still be interning at the Okeer foundation? Mixing bottles of krogan gametes? Maybe preferable to you, tendencies towards megalomania, refusal to follow regulations-”

“Fine, sir, I'll see what I can do.”

“Thank you!” He returned to scowling at the tricorder.

There was a hollow tapping sound, metallic. Mordin followed it to the hatch of an access tube set into the wall. The hatch was sealed from his side, meaning someone inside would be unable to open it, and with the coms going in and out they may not be able to contact the bridge to open it. Mordin hesitated a moment then turned the wheel to open it manually.

Shepard climbed out, smiling gratefully. “Got a minute?”

“Ship’s falling apart, subspace anomalies, sassy lab techs, first officer missing, superiors emerging from the walls, of course I have a minute, Captain. Maybe I can stretch it to a minute and a half.”

“Very funny, Mordin. Any idea what's happening to the ship?”

“Not sure, not sure. Subspace anomalies- always the case isn't it? Warp drives create spacetime bubble, continuously maintained by the warp engines. Bubble moves faster than lightspeed relative to normal space, bypassing physical restrictions on accelerations within any given space. Now, warp engines off, bubble still exists, but altered...Stretched. Not a sphere but an oval. Might even stretch further, a folded corridor of space. Physical laws affected. Mass readings are off. Very strange. Never seen anything like it.”

“Bubbles? A space hallway...made of bubbles?”

“No, Captain, not at all. Perhaps you should go back to the bridge.”

“I had some more questions. Is it hard for a salarian in Starfleet?”

Mordin was surprised at the oddly placed query. “Well, no, salarians have their own academy that moves at a faster pace than asari and human ones. Salarians tend to move up the ranks quite swiftly due to native intelligence and speedy maturation. Being mostly asexual under normal circumstances also means we aren't easily distracted from our careers by relationships.”

“Really? So you aren't interested in . . . getting to know one another better.”

“No, I am not, Captain. Except platonically.”

“I had some more questions.”

“Yes? I'm quite busy right now.”

“Never mind then. See you around, Mordin.” Shepard climbed back into the tube, clambering athletically down a shaft that Mordin knew lead to engineering.

Slightly relieved, Mordin went back to scanning with the tricorder. He tried to contact Rana again but got only static.

This was almost as bad as the Crystalline Entity, another time the captain had overreacted. But at least he wasn’t trying to sacrifice Jacob to an ancient and immensely powerful alien this time.

Lines of gravitational and electromagnetic distortion, seen indirectly as figures on the tiny screen of the tricorder, stretched through the ship invisibly, though Mordin kept imagining he could see them out of the corners of his eyes, refracting the corridor lights into a rainbow spectrum heavy in reds and blues. Phase-shifting. Not really happening, illusory, just a result of his mindset. He followed the lines.

A warp corridor? Stretch the ship into an infinitely thin noodle, perhaps. From their reference point, no difference. From outside, possible quite comical, possibly instantaneous travel. But that was not his specialty. Would have to talk to Tali. Luckily, the distortions seemed to be pointing him down into the bowels of the ship, towards engineering. It seemed like he would have the opportunity to discuss some things with her very soon.

On the holodeck Kaidan played chess with Moriarty under the swaying glow of an oil lamp. They were at sea, in an ancient wind-powered earth vessel. It was dark, and a little drizzle fell that never touched the skin but left other surfaces feeling wet. The fictional character was winning, but Kaidan still had a few good pieces left, and was making him work for it. Garrus lurched back and forth on the heaving deck of the pirate ship, a deck covered with metallic grass now drenched with salty spray. The chess pieces stayed absolutely still on the board as Garrus stumbled absurdly with the crashing waves. Above them was a gloomy night sky missing clouds in a few oddly regular oblong patches.

The smaller Kaidan, whom real Kaidan resolutely ignored, was now dressed as a cabin boy and attempting to scrub the deck to little avail as he constantly slipped and fell. He persisted even though the setting had changed; Shepard on the other hand was apparently gone, though Garrus had seen a spectral image of him floating off the bow a few moments ago with a disconnected eyeball and a face that could only be described as “asterisk-shaped”.

Moriarty took Kaidan’s rook and grinned triumphantly. Kaidan sighed, surveying the hopeless carnage of the board, then stood up and walked over to Garrus. “Lieutenant, I think we need to talk.” Moriarty stayed frozen, grinning into the empty chair.

“Yes, sir?” Garrus nearly growled. The lurching was unsettling his stomach. Kaidan seemed less affected, balancing with a primate-ish ease and holding onto an overhead rope one handed.

“Garrus - I’ll just call you Garrus for now, this is personal, man-to-man, you know - I can't help but notice there's a lot being unsaid right now, with you and me and the captain. Not to make any assumptions, but I'm picking up on some tension between the two of us.” The rope creaked in his hand as the ship heaved again, pitching forward into a deep trough between waves.

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Well I can't make you talk about it, but the two of us, in regards to Shepard, I feel like if we don't talk about it we’re bound for some sort of collision-”

As if the holodeck had been listening for idioms to display literally the pirate ship shook, its bottom scraping against an unseen rock with a thrilling shudder and screech, and the entire thing came to a halt, which if Garrus recalled correctly was exactly how the “Foundered with Flint” romance holoprogram segued into its second act. They were thrown backward more gently than would have been strictly realistic, but Garrus still slipped in an undignified manner and hit the deck with a wet slap.

“Fuck,” said Kaidan, who had lost the rope but still managed to land kneeling, one hand to the ground. In the window of the captain’s cabin cozy-looking lanterns began to glow. He regained his feet easily.

Garrus sat up. “You're right,” he said miserably. “I have feelings for him.”

“Lieutenant…”

“I know it's inappropriate. But I do anyway. I know you both are close, and I don't want to get in the way of anything, I just…”

“Lieutenant!”

“We just connect on so many levels. He doesn't care when I say the wrong thing, and we can talk about guns for hours. He's so confident and accomplished and I've even grown as a person just from trying to follow his example.”

“GARRUS!”

“Just a minute, let me get this ouooououhhhhh-”

Unnoticed to Garrus the entire ship had begun listing to one side. Abruptly, the silvery grass reverted to rain-slick wood boards, and the seated turian slid helplessly, slamming into the railing. Below him a black sea churned.

“Hold still!” called Kaidan, hanging onto the handle of a closed hatchway. Carefully he began to lower himself down to where Garrus was crumpled. “We’ll talk more about this later!”

Garrus stared down at the ocean and contemplated continuing to share his feelings with Kaidan. He pulled himself upright with some difficulty, leaning heavily on the railing. “Eh, it's not real water anyway.”

He jumped.

Engineer Daniels was checking isolinear circuitry in the Jeffries tubes near the warp core. She could hear Donnelly's laughter and stupid accent echoing down from a nearby tube. Damn, she wished the guy had just stayed in the transporter room. There was a reason he always somehow ended up on duty upstairs; he was a pain in the ass to work with, and Tali knew it too. But they needed every hand down here right now, and Donnelly at the very least wasn't completely incompetent when it came to the mechanical workings of the vessel.

But even with the dire circumstances at hand, his voice, with its stupid, probably affected accent and lame vaguely sexist jokes were making it hard for her to concentrate on the circuits in front of her. She paused, closed her eyes, took a breath, and counted to five. When she opened her eyes Shepard was there.

To her credit, she didn't scream, though an audible “oop” crossed her lips the same as if she had found herself nearly walking into someone on the street.

Shepard grinned at her. He was red in the face and a little dusty. “Hi Daniels, what's the situation down here?”

“Sir, uh, did you uh, climb all the way down from the upper decks?”

“What, did you think I'd make Joker do it?” Shepard said jovially, adding in a serious tone, “No, I wouldn't. Anyway, what seems to be the problem with the engines?”

“Not sure, sir. The warp core won’t come completely offline, and Chief Tali’Zorah thinks that might be enough to maintain the spacial distortion that’s keeping us at warp. If you look at the core it’s glowing slightly because it’s still producing a plasma stream, just a weak one. There’s not enough energy being fed into it to even keep the reaction going at low levels, however, and that’s the confusing part. She thinks EDI has it wrong and is having us check all the inputs. It’s possible that new components like the phaser banks are malfunctioning and causing some sort of feedback. But I think that’s unlikely.”

“Why?”

“My team and I have checked all the inputs, and especially on auxiliary power, there’s nothing else that can be feeding into it. And there’s more spacial and electromagnetic distortion than can be accounted for even by the warp engines working normally. Physical laws aren’t working right. The reaction is self-maintaining at a low level when it shouldn’t be. There’s a specific energy threshold for matter-antimatter reactions in the dilithium crystal matrix. The occasional stray particles meeting won’t provide enough energy. That’s why we use them, to keep the reaction controlled.” Daniels took a breath. The captain always required so much explanation.

“Oh. Could there be something wrong with the crystals?”

“No, they’re just rocks, you can’t do too much to them on a macro scale, and they can’t be flawed or we’d’ve blown up already . . .” Daniels trailed off. Before the Normandy had left port, did she see the new salarian recruits working on the warp core? She hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, it was routine to check for decrystallization and actually they had gone a long time between replacements. Had there been a new crystal installed? She would have to check with Tali, and the communicators were down. She turned to the Captain and said, “Sorry, sir, there’s something I have to discuss with the Chief.”

“Don’t let me keep you. By the way, have you seen Garrus? Or Commander Kaidan?”

“Garrus was here just a little while before this happened. He went in the direction of the holodeck. He spends a lot of time there.” She picked up her equipment and began scooting down the tube, taking the long way to avoid Donnelly. Behind her, Shepard glanced around in confusion, then picked a ladder to begin climbing up.

“Tali!” she called as she entered the engineering deck proper. Tali glanced up from her console where her fingers had been moving with unbelievable speed.

“Yes, Engineer Daniels, what is it?” the Chief said in a voice just a shade less violent than a snap.

“Did we get our dilithium crystals replaced in port? I’m wondering if there could be, I dunno, some sort of impurity-”

EDI replied, “New dilithium crystals were indeed taken on in port.”

This time it was a snap. “Yes, I remember, thank you computer.” Tali pondered for a moment, her fingers tapping.

A salarian recruit at a nearby computer tentatively raised his hand. “Chief . . .”

Chief Tali’Zorah almost smiled. “I knew it. I knew it had to be one of you. What’s your name, Ensign?”

“Chorban, ma’am. It’s a long story. See, me and Palon over there-” He pointed and a salarian that had previously been edging out of the room waved back, his escape cut off. “-were working on a project in academy together with a previously undiscovered element that we thought could improve the efficiency of warp drives. We never got it to work the way we wanted, we needed something like a starship engine to test it with . . . so we substituted our own artificially grown crystals when it came time to change the Normandy’s.”

Tali’s face was unreadable behind her visor. Daniels chimed in, “You gotta know that artificial crystals can’t be used on starships. They’d break down too quickly.”

“Yes, but with the addition of Element Zero - that’s what we’re calling it, thought it was catchy for branding - we theorized that the crystal structure would be more stable. In itself that’s a pretty big innovation, right? But, but the great thing about it is that running an electric current through this element causes it to create a field that either increases or decreases the mass of objects within it depending on the direction. We thought that adding it would make the matter-antimatter reactions more efficient by decreasing the mass of the particles slightly, while the dilithium would still act to stabilize the reaction.” He glanced around, agitated. Tali, still unreadable, motioned him to go on. “But we still don’t know what’s going on here.”

“I think it’s pretty clear,” said Tali finally. “If what you’re saying is true, you decreased the threshold for reaction, and now even with the antimatter stream turned off when the slightest amount of residual antimatter encounters matter in that matrix, it generates enough energy to power the mass-reducing field. It’s a self-perpetuating cycle. You complete idiots.” She went back to the console. “The really ironic thing is that I could have just ejected the core and fixed the problem, even if we would have had to wait awhile for help to arrive. But the new safety protocols won’t let me so that.”

“Studies show that ejecting the core was in retrospect unnecessary in ninety-five percent of circumstances where it was attempted, so it’s a reasonable addition to the-” began Palon.

“Shut up. Bosh’tet.”

Daniels said, “It might be possible to counter the mass-reducing effect with a graviton emitter. A big enough one could pass a beam through the ship and be targeted precisely on the crystals themselves, and adjusted to negate the effect.”

“We don’t have the time or the materials to assemble something like that.” Tali stated.

“No, but the computer has the schematics - right, EDI? - and we could build one on the holodeck. With some tweaking of the protocols it could even produce an actual graviton beam despite being made of holo-matter.”

“But all the holodecks are shut down on auxiliary power.”

“Actually,” interrupted EDI, “There is one holodeck still running due to a malfunction at the time of the power surge.”

Daniels said, “Good. If it’s not glitching too hard up there because of the interference, I recommend we attempt it, Chief. Not much choice.”

“I agree. Let’s get moving.”

Mordin Solus scanned the wall. It was an ordinary bulkhead, no radiation, no subspace phenomena, gray metal with track lighting in the right places. Visually, it was fine, a bland but solid and reliable wall, Federation standard make for starships. The only real problem with it was its shape and location, jutting outwards into the corridor and curving in a mind-bending sense to leave a tall skinny gap only about a foot wide on one side. The hole itself reminded him of an optical illusion; the pattern of the carpet constricted and seemed to flow into it. The tricorder sensed nothing wrong with this other than noting the abundance of tiny stress fractures in the metal as shockingly high. It was as though the metal itself had aged a hundred years or so in a matter of hours, or was being pulled in all directions at once. Mordin suspected the latter, and he had been encountering it more and more as he moved down towards Engineering.

This could not, he reasoned, be good.

He heard footsteps on the other side of the hole just as he was trying to work up the nerve to squeeze around it. “Keelah!” exclaimed a voice.

“Chief Tali’Zorah?” Mordin called.

“Mordin! A moment please, I’ll try to duck around this . . .”

“That would not be advisable-” but as he tried to warn her, an impossible tall and narrow creature with spindly limbs came through the gap. A few feet past it the figure refocused itself into the chief engineer, who was squatting as if ducking under something. She looked up at Mordin then back at the hole.

“Huh,” she said, perplexed. “It was three feet tall and as wide as the corridor, from the other direction. Daniels, maybe-”

But Daniels had already followed, also emerging in a crouch as if to avoid hitting her head. She was similarly distressed when she looked back.

“Perhaps we should not attempt to pass through any more distortions we come across,” Mordin suggested.

“Unfortunately, I think there are more of them than we’re able to perceive,” said Tali. “When I walked through just now the corridor seemed to stretch back into its normal shape, relative to me.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” said Daniels. “We’re already doing what we can. Mordin, you’ve built a graviton emitter before, right?”

“Of course, back in the academy. I made a miniaturized version specifically to cheat at Dabo.”

“Can you create a functional one in the holodeck if I switch off the radiant energy safety protocols? You have more experience in particle physics than me.”

“Probably, yes, the schematics should be in the databanks for simulation purposes.”

“Good. We’ll need you.”

Garrus hung with his feet barely touching the water. It wasn’t wet, there was just empty space underneath, though it wasn’t clear how far he would have fallen before hitting the deck. Might have sprained an ankle or something.

He looked up. A smallish hand held his wrist in an inhumanly tight grasp. He looked up into the face of cabin-boy-Kaidan gritting his teeth in determination. Further up, the real Commander Alenko leaned over the side, gripping a leg of his doppelganger in each hand.

The Commander shouted down, “Garrus, you’re too damn heavy for this!”

Just then, the sunlit fields of Palaven returned and the pirate ship disappeared, causing the three to fall into the grass. Garrus’s toes remained under the surface however, and he felt himself beginning to sink beneath the map.

He gasped, the wind still knocked out of him, “Kaidan, help!”

The fake Kaidan grabbed him by the shoulders, and yanked him up onto the ground. The force of this, however, caused the hologram to phased down to his waist in the simulated grass. He attempted to continue moving for a moment before abruptly sinking out of sight. They lay silent on the warm grass for a moment.

“Can’t say I miss him,” said Kaidan. “Though, I found his behavior . . . interesting to say the least.”

“Outside,” Garrus panted, “of the dialogues, I based his, protocols for improv, on you. Your personality. What I’ve seen of it.”

Kaidan grinned, just a little. “I hope I’d jump off a boat to catch you.”

“I know you would. For any crew member. You’re a good person, and I’m sorry about misrepresenting you in the holoprogram.”

“It’s okay. Just don’t, you know, do it anymore. It’s still kinda weird.”

“Gotcha.”

Shepard walked up to them, a big smile on his face. “Hey, Garrus! Kaidan!” He looked around, and picked up the disruptor from the ground. “Were you thinking of a shooting contest or something?”

“Ugh, I can barely watch this anymore,” said Garrus with a wince.

Kaidan studied Shepard for a moment, then the big grin returned to his face. “Hey Lieutenant, why don’t you just tell him how you feel? For practice, you know.”

“Oh, fine,” said Garrus. He got to his feet. “Shepard, I’d like to spend more time with you. I like talking to and being around you. You make me feel good about myself and my place here, and inspire me to work even harder. I’m not sure about your relationship with Commander Alenko but I’d just like to be honest with you and tell you I’m interested. There, you happy?” he said, sitting down again. Kaidan’s grin got wider.

“Well, uh, okay, so,” Shepard began. He gestured behind him to the now-visible holodeck arch. “Maybe we should discuss this later, after we’ve fixed the problem with the ship. I mean, I’m definitely, you know, well, maybe let’s just talk about it later, if that’s okay. I think.”

Garrus froze in shocked silence as Kaidan began to giggle.

“. . . So, maybe we should head down to Engineering now,” said Shepard, edging towards the door.

“Wait!” said Tali, stepping through. “Don’t let the holodeck shut down!” Daniels and Mordin followed her in, Daniels propping the exterior door open to prevent the arch from disappearing.

“Did you - did you hear any of that?” Garrus asked trepidatiously.

“Of course. You talk very loudly. We heard you down the corridor.” Mordin was jabbing at the screen within the archway. “However it is not really as important as you seem to think given the imminent threat of death.”

“Oh.”

Tali worked on the datapad she had brought with her. “The safety protocols are luckily still intact in here, though the graphics module is trashed. I’ll just alter one and repair the other.” A few seconds, and then: “Good to go! It’ll allow us to create a graviton beam. I do hope none of your programs include devices that might release radiant energy, Garrus, because I did have to remove some safeties.”

“Aha,” said Mordin. In the center of the field a bulky, complicated-looking apparatus floated. It rotated, its dull metal glinting slightly in the Palaven sun, so the single aperture pointed downwards at an angle presumably towards the engines.

“Now, while it works, it IS less stable than an emitter made of normal matter, so calibrating the focus and beam coherency may be a little tricky-”

Lieutenant Garrus had been sitting on the ground in a slight daze, staring at Shepard, who seemed a little uncomfortable with the whole situation but also had a softness around his eyes - his quite beautiful eyes, Garrus would never really get used to the eyelashes but he thought there was something cute and alien about them - but looked around at the mention of calibrations. Then he noticed another figure, another Shepard, compared directly with the real one now an imperfect copy especially since the face was still a little glitchy. It was holding a disruptor, an M-98 Widow. It pointed it towards where there had once been a bush but now there was Kaidan, the Commander apparently spacing out and gazing at the hazy hills in the simulated distance. It said, “Let’s see what this baby can-”

Garrus felt, for a moment, the uniform and insignia and training and rules of Starfleet leave him as his toeclaws dug deep into the soil. His ancestors had been hunters on these plains. The glinting grass was familiar, the smell of sun and dirt, the figure before him whose small soft finger slowly began to depress the trigger. The rush of a concentrated predatory rage filled him and he leapt into the hologram Shepard at full force, barely containing himself enough to not try to rip out his throat with gnashing mandibles. They tumbled over into the grass. The rest of the crew present seemed frozen in shock as Garrus tore the disruptor away and threw it in a random direction.

“Oh my,” said the fake Shepard from the ground, breathless. “Garrus, I love it when-”

“SHUT UP!”

“Yes, master.”

“Argghh,” moaned Garrus.

Captain Shepard, the real one, did not seem to know what to make of this. Kaidan simply stood in shock, then started to laugh. “Did I just almost get killed by one of my men’s sexual repression?”

“I guess,” said Shepard, coming back to himself. He kept glancing at the Shepard flat on his back on the ground. “I always thought being open about yourself was the best bet.” He stared at Kaidan, then at Garrus. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t the clearest about my intentions lately. Garrus, me and Kaidan have a complicated relationship, in that it’s kind of uncomplicated, by romantic things. At least it was. I’ve been a little unfair to him, I think-”

“No, I knew what I signed on for. And maybe it’s not what I really wanted,” Kaidan admitted. “I just wanted you.”

Shepard sighed. “Right. I know, Kaidan.”

“But that might not have been the best for either of us,” Kaidan waved his arms dramatically, “so I release you! Do what you do best. I’m not going to try to change the things I love most about you, that’d be stupid and selfish.” He turned and began to walk away.

“Okay. Thank you Kaidan. So Garrus, if maybe you want to get some food at the replicator some time, or watch ‘Fleet and Flotilla’ with me-”

The ship rumbled and groaned, throwing them all off balance. Tali looked up from her datapad. “I apologize. While you were talking, we turned on the machine to try to save everyone’s lives. Please continue.”

“Great. So Garrus . . .”

“Yeah, I’d like that Captain.”

“-Captain! Bridge to Captain!” yelled Liara T’Soni’s voice through Shepard’s combadge. “It worked, we’ve come out of warp, but we’re further off course than we thought-” There was an odd, deep thrumming noise in the background. “We’ve encountered something, something huge, a mechanized cube with tentacles and a big red eye, it’s blasting the shields. I’ll have Donnelly beam you all to the bridge immediately.”

“Affirmative, Liara, six ready to beam up. And Lieutenant,” he caught Garrus’s eye as bright particles began to swirl around them. The turian felt his hearts seize in his chest. “This isn’t over yet.”

They disappeared in a swirl of luminous particles.

[nbatrades]

Toronto Raptors Acquire Draft Rights to Solomon Alabi

On June 24th, 2010, the Dallas Mavericks traded the draft rights of Solomon Alabi to the Toronto Raptors for cash considerations and a top-40 protected 2013 second round draft pick (Jamaal Franklin).

As the NBA has become more of an international game, the moves made to discover players at a young age have grown. Solomon Alabi was discovered by NBA executive Masai Ujiri in a basketball camp. The Nigerian born Alabi was eventually invited to a Basketball Without Borders camp.

(via Raptors.com):

“I was excited because I had never played real full-court basketball. Masai had a camp and he saw I was interested. He talked to me about how basketball was huge in North America. He brought gear to the camp. And shoes... I felt like I was in the NBA after getting those shoes. I was so excited. I wanted to play basketball everywhere in Zaria where I come from. I wore them to church, to basketball, everywhere.”

The discovery would reshape Alabi’s life. He went on to move to the United States at the age of 17 to play basketball in high school. After one year at Montverde Academy in Florida, Alabi went on to play college ball at Florida State.

Alabi spent three years with the Seminoles where he excelled as a defensive force. The seven-footer led the ACC in blocks per game in two different seasons and made the All-Defense team in the ACC. Alabi declared for the draft after three years.

Going into the draft, Alabi was seen as a solid prospect. Standing 7′1″, Alabi was an elite rim protector in college, and had developed a solid midrange jumper on offense. Alabi was diagnosed with Hepatitis B. This caused his draft stock to fall rapidly from possible first round pick to midway through the second round of the draft.

The Raptors had expressed interest in acquiring Alabi despite having zero second round picks in the 2010 draft. The Raptors scoured the NBA for a team looking to sell a second round pick and found the Dallas Mavericks at the 50th spot of the draft. The Mavericks picked Alabi for the Raptors and Toronto sent Dallas a top-40 protected 2013 second round pick and cash considerations.

After the draft, Alabi joined the Raptors for Summer League play in Las Vegas. He appeared in five games and posted 8.2 PPG, 5.0 RPG and 1.0 BPG in 18.4 MPG. Soon after Summer League, Alabi signed a three-year, $2.49 million contract with a team option in the third year.

The Raptors were headed for a rebuild after All-Star Chris Bosh left the team for the Miami Heat in free agency. In their first year post-Bosh, the Raptors struggled. The team got off to a 2-9 start and never recovered. Toronto finished third-worst in the NBA with a 22-60 record. 

Alabi saw most of his time in the NBA Developmental League. He played for the D-League franchise, the Erie Bayhawks. Alabi played in 22 games (16 starts) with Erie and compiled 7.2 PPG, 5.3 RPG and 1.8 BPG in 18.6 MPG. Alabi saw very limited action in his rookie season with Toronto. He played in 12 games and put up 0.5 PPG and 1.2 RPG in 4.9 MPG.

The 2011 offseason saw the Raptors fire coach Jay Triano and replace him with Dwane Casey. The team also drafted center Jonas Valanciunas with the fifth pick in the draft. 

The Raptors began the lockout-shortened ‘11-‘12 year with a 4-13 mark. The Raptors played better than the previous season, but still finished out of the playoffs with a 23-43 record.

Alabi ended his second season with 2.4 PPG, 3.4 RPG and 0.6 BPG in 14 games and 8.7 MPG. Once again, the Nigerian-born Alabi spent some time in the D-League, playing for the Bakersfield Jam. He appeared in nine games for the Jam, amassing 9.1 PPG, 7.9 RPG and 1.9 BPG in 21.3 MPG. 

During the season finale of the 2011-12 season, Alabi had career-highs of 11 points, 19 rebounds and three blocks in a win against the New Jersey Nets. At that point, the totals from that one game accounted for 28% of his total points, 31% of his total rebounds and 27% of his total blocks from 26 games. 

In the 2012 offseason, the Raptors declined their team option on Alabi, making him an unrestricted free agent. Alabi went on to join the Denver Nuggets’ Summer League entry in Las Vegas. 

Alabi ended his time in Toronto with averages of 1.5 PPG and 2.3 RPG in 26 career games. The seven-footer shot 31% from the field and 70% from the free-throw line in that time span. In training camp of 2012, Alabi joined the New Orleans Hornets.

Seven months after the Alabi trade, Dallas traded the second rounder back to Toronto in a deal that saw the Raptors take on Alexis Ajinca’s salary from Dallas. In January of 2013, the Raptors dealt the 2013 second round pick to the Memphis Grizzlies in a three-team deal that also involved the Detroit Pistons. 

The trade resulted in Rudy Gay moving to Toronto, Tayshaun Prince heading to Memphis and Jose Calderon ending up in Detroit. Memphis selected 41st in the 2013 draft and took guard Jamaal Franklin from San Diego State University.

Solomon Alabi on being drafted by the Raptors in his introductory press conference (via Youtube):

“First of all, I want to thank Bryan for giving me the opportunity. It’s a great opportunity for me, and I’m really excited about it. Toronto is a great city and a great basketball program and I’m excited to join the team and contribute.”

On concerns about Alabi having Hepatitis B:

“I had the Hepatitis B and I’m aware of it. I had doctors look over it and I’ve played with it. It’s curable and with the NBA program, they’re going to look through it. I can play for a long time with it and it’s curable. I’m going to follow whatever program they have for me to make sure it’s fine.”

On not being disappointed with falling in the draft:

“To be honest with you, it’s not really disappointing. All I’m going to say is the other teams missed out. I’m excited that Toronto drafted me and is giving me the opportunity. So I’m going to go out here, work hard and make sure to win every game, take the team to the playoffs. I’m going to do the best I can to help the team and prove to the other teams that they missed out for not drafting me.”

Toronto Raptors general manager Bryan Colangelo on Alabi in press conference introducing Ed Davis and Alabi (via Youtube):

“Solomon [Alabi] comes to us from Florida State. I would say that both players... We were a little bit surprised to see on the board. Ed [Davis] at 13 and Solomon in particular at 50. I would say that Solomon was projected to be a late first round pick at worst and he slid back in the draft, and it provided us with an opportunity to add another quality player.

“It was a little bit frantic as we tried to acquire a player with that second pick, going in without a second round selection. But had we even acquired a late first, we might have considered Solomon at that pick. We were excited and thrilled to get Solomon.”

On concerns of Alabi’s Hepatitis B diagnosis:

“We were given assurances — by not only Solomon’s doctor, but by our medical staff that this should not be a concern. We’ll obviously deal with the treatments as required and everything should be fine. It should not affect his playing career.”

On developing Davis and Alabi and what the two players bring:

“I can see both of these young men getting that opportunity regardless of who comes back in free agency and regardless of what the net impact of a sign-and-trade might bring. So having said that you’re talking about a talented young guy that can play the four. You’re talking about a talent at the five — both I would say more than anything are very defensive-minded. Both, rebounding and shot blocking comes naturally, and I would say offensively their games are coming along or developing each and every day. 

“And we’ve got a great development program here with our guys. We’re going to get the most out of what their their skill set allows and their athleticism allows. You're not talking about guys that haven’t played high level of competitive basketball, but again two things that we talk about all the time is protecting the rim and rebounding and having a presence in the paint defensively. I guess that’s three things, but we have two players here that are going to address those very needs.”

Image via Getty Images/Ron Turenne

[dist-the-rose]

Section 3: Senior’s “Last Hour” One fine morning, in the year 1836, Nassau W. Senior, who may be called the bel-esprit of English economists, well known, alike for his economic “science,” and for his beautiful style, was summoned from Oxford to Manchester, to learn in the latter place, the Political Economy that he taught in the former. The manufacturers elected him as their champion, not only against the newly passed Factory Act, but against the still more menacing Ten-hours’ agitation. With their usual practical acuteness, they had found out- that the learned Professor “wanted a good deal of finishing;” it was this discovery that caused them to write for him. On his side the Professor has embodied the lecture he received from the Manchester manufacturers, in a pamphlet, entitled: “Letters on the Factory Act, as it affects the cotton manufacture.” London, 1837. Here we find, amongst others, the following edifying passage: “Under the present law, no mill in which persons under 18 years of age are employed, ... can be worked more than 11½ hours a day, that is, 12 hours for 5 days in the week, and nine on Saturday. “Now the following analysis (!) will show that in a mill so worked, the whole net profit is derived from the last hour. I will suppose a manufacturer to invest £100,000: – £80,000 in his mill and machinery, and £20,000 in raw material and wages. The annual return of that mill, supposing the capital to be turned once a year, and gross profits to be 15 per cent., ought to be goods worth £15,000.... Of this £115,000, each of the twenty-three half-hours of work produces 5-115ths or one twenty-third. Of these 23-23rds (constituting the whole £115,000) twenty, that is to say £100,000 out of the £115,000, simply replace the capital; – one twentythird (or £5,000 out of the £115,000) makes up for the deterioration of the mill and machinery. The remaining 2-23rds, that is, the last two of the twenty-three half-hours of every day, produce the net profit of 10 per cent. If, therefore (prices remaining the same), the factory could be kept at work thirteen hours instead of 117 Chapter IX eleven and a half, with an addition of about £2,600 to the circulating capital, the net profit would be more than doubled. On the other hand, if the hours of working were reduced by one hour per day (prices remaining the same), the net profit would be destroyed – if they were reduced by one hour and a half, even the gross profit would be destroyed.”10 And the Professor calls this an “analysis!” If, giving credence to the out-cries of the manufacturers, he believed that the workmen spend the best part of the day in the production, i.e., the reproduction or replacement of the value of the buildings, machinery, cotton, coal, &c., then his analysis was superfluous. His answer would simply have been: – Gentlemen! if you work your mills for 10 hours instead of 11½, then, other things being equal, the daily consumption of cotton, machinery, &c., will decrease in proportion. You gain just as much as you lose. Your work-people will in future spend one hour and a half less time in reproducing or replacing the capital that has been advanced. – If, on the other hand, he did not believe them without further inquiry, but, as being an expert in such matters, deemed an analysis necessary, then he ought, in a question that is concerned exclusively with the relations of net profit to the length of the working day, before all things to have asked the manufacturers, to be careful not to lump together machinery, workshops, raw material, and labour, but to be good enough to place the constant capital, invested in buildings, machinery, raw material, &c., on one side of the account, and the capital advanced in wages on the other side. If the Professor then found, that in accordance with the calculation of the manufacturers, the workman reproduced or replaced his wages in 2 halfhours, in that case, he should have continued his analysis thus: According to your figures, the workman in the last hour but one produces his wages, and in the last hour your surplus value or net profit. Now, since in equal periods he produces equal values, the produce of the last hour but one, must have the same value as that of the last hour. Further, it is only while he labours that he produces any value at all, and the amount of his labour is measured by his labour-time. This you say, amounts to 11½ hours a day. He employs one portion of these 11½ hours, in producing or replacing his wages, and the remaining portion in producing your net profit. Beyond this he does absolutely nothing. But since, on your assumption, his wages, and the surplus value he yields, are of equal value, it is clear that he produces his wages in 5¾ hours, and your net profit in the other 5¾ hours. Again, since the value of the yarn produced in 2 hours, is equal to the sum of the values of his wages and of your net profit, the measure of the value of this yarn must be 11½ working-hours, of which 5¾ hours measure the value of the yarn produced in the last hour but one, and 5¾, the value of the yarn produced in the last hour. We now come to a ticklish point; therefore, attention! The last working-hour but one is, like the first, an ordinary working-hour, neither more nor less. How then can the spinner produce in one hour, in the shape of yarn, a value that embodies 5¾ hours’ labour? The truth is that he performs no such miracle. The use-value produced by him in one hour, is a definite quantity of yarn. The value of this yarn is measured by 5¾ working-hours, of which 4¾ were, without any assistance from him, previously embodied in the means of production, in the cotton, the machinery, and so on; the remaining one hour alone is added by him. Therefore since his wages are produced in 5¾ hours, and the yarn produced in one hour also contains 5¾ hours’ work, there is no witchcraft in the result, that the value created by his 5¾ hours’ spinning, is equal to the value of the product spun in one hour. You are altogether on the wrong track, if you think that he loses a single moment of his working day, in reproducing or replacing the values of the cotton, the machinery, and so on. On the contrary, it is because his labour converts the cotton and spindles into yarn, because he spins, that the values of the cotton and spindles go over to the yarn of their own accord. This result is owing to the quality of his labour, not to its quantity. It is true, he will in one hour transfer to the yarn more value, in the shape of cotton, than he will in half an hour; but that is only because in one hour he spins up more cotton than in half an hour. You see then, your assertion, that the workman produces, in the last hour but one, the value of his wages, and in the 118 Chapter IX last hour your net profit, amounts to no more than this, that in the yarn produced by him in 2 working-hours, whether they are the 2 first or the 2 last hours of the working day, in that yarn, there are incorporated 11½ working-hours, or just a whole day’s work, i.e., two hours of his own work and 9½ hours of other people’s. And my assertion that, in the first 5¾ hours, he produces his wages, and in the last 5¾ hours your net profit, amounts only to this, that you pay him for the former, but not for the latter. In speaking of payment of labour, instead of payment of labourpower, I only talk your own slang. Now, gentlemen, if you compare the working-time you pay for, with that which you do not pay for, you will find that they are to one another, as half a day is to half a day; this gives a rate of 100%, and a very pretty percentage it is. Further, there is not the least doubt, that if you make you “hands” toil for 13 hours, instead of 11½, and, as may be expected from you, treat the work done in that extra one hour and a half, as pure surplus labour, then the latter will be increased from 5¾ hours’ labour to 7¼ hours’ labour, and the rate of surplus value from 100% to 126 2/23%. So that you are altogether too sanguine, in expecting that by such an addition of 1½ hours to the working day, the rate will rise from 100% to 200% and more, in other words that it will be “more than doubled.” On the other hand-man’s heart is a wonderful thing, especially when carried in the purse – you take too pessimist a view, when you fear, that with a reduction of the hours of labour from 11½ to 10, the whole of your net profit will go to the dogs. Not at all. All other conditions remaining the same, the surplus labour will fall from 5¾ hours to 4¾ hours, a period that still gives a very profitable rate of surplus value, namely 82 14/23%. But this dreadful “last hour,” about which you have invented more stories than have the millenarians about the day of judgment, is “all bosh.” If it goes, it will cost neither you, your net profit, nor the boys and girls whom you employ, their “purity of mind.” 11 Whenever your “last hour” strikes in earnest, think of the Oxford Professor. And now, gentlemen, “farewell, and may we meet again in yonder better world, but not before.” Senior invented the battle cry of the “last hour” in 1836.12 In the London Economist of the 15th April, 1848, the same cry was again raised by James Wilson, an economic mandarin of high standing: this time in opposition to the 10 hours’ bill.

[thepurpletapemix]

Rap Beef: Joyner Lucas Vs. Tory Lanes

Tory fires first over the Lucky You beat Joyner rapped on with Eminem

I got a million flows, I can go silly with those I got a pocket rocket Down to cock and chop and pop a nigga that really impose Niggas that’s wit me is villans in hoodies That lost all they good and they feelings on road It’s so appealing, the feeling of killing a nigga that pose Get Milli Vanillied with those Turn a beef plate to a cheesesteak Bitch, I be really in Philly with those Neck rocky as a blizzard, a nigga flex gotten bigger My wrist is so chilly, it froze Really I’m colder than ever, my niggas goin' for whatever Niggas gripped up, fifth tucked in the snow storm or the weather Sandstorm or the desert, hands drawn on a Dessy Leave his whole body bloody Like shorty done put in her tampon on already Shooting with a Vietnam cannon out the Peter arm on the levy See, the charm on already We go to jail, this shit'll be fine, we’ll meet up with friends 'Cause all of our mans gone-gone already Nigga the-, nigga the- I'ma do a three in week, I gave the Jeep the receipt Either the double-R stitching, it’s that or the Bentley B in the seat I got my D in a freak, I gotta be in repeat She wanna eat every morning I treat it like porridge and gave her the cream of the wheat And I rock it like P and a B I don’t cop it less it’s Louie, Gucci on the pocket Or even a D and a G, 'cause the way that the money piling I'll be wildin' 'til a nigga make about a B in a week Fuck niggas hating on me But I’m Gary Payton, always on the team with the green And the money counter, 'cause when I’m accounting It be money coming in and coming out it, paper cut the money Dummy niggas, I been thumbing out it Trying not to run up out it in a fist fight With a knife, nigga brought a gun up out it Don’t you run up out it, lil nigga Uh, hit him with a mini MAC Is he really that bad that I gotta hit him with a bigger gat? Matter fact, riddle me that I’m literally at the spot that he said he’d be at, but where is he at? Like, really nigga? Is you really tellin' me that? Like I ain’t prepared to hit him with a felony act? Like, what you thought, I would never react? Have a nigga lookin' like he tryna fight in Smash Bros When a nigga put a whole shell in his back Fuck niggas yelling it back Niggas get high and start hating on a real nigga It’s like a nigga smokin' on a jealousy pack Look, lil nigga, uh I got the remedy, I got the shooters with hidden identities Fuck who you send at me I got a stack on me long as a ruler and centipede I got that Geneve, I got the energy I got the money, the power, the enemies I go to business I’m asking these niggas for 60 percent of the entity No one defending me Niggas is talking, but no one offending me Niggas know what the result of the end'll be Niggas won’t know how to find where they men'll be I'm a way different nigga on Hennessy I got the recipe, none of y’all niggas sit next to me Guard where your head and ya chest'll be I suggest you niggas never go testin' me I suggest you niggas never go testin' me, nigga

I promise y'all niggas I do this shit in my sleep, it's easy I come to the studio and just say shit and it comes out that way You know what I mean? I promise y'all we down to go 36 hundred thousand rounds with anybody Let these niggas know that all that rapping fast shit We can do it too, nigga Niggas be thinking they got that special sauce Not today, nigga Ain't that right, man? Y'all know what the fuck goin' on, man Who next? Who next? Who next? For real, who next? Lemme know, lemme know, I'm off this, I'm off this Love me now

Joyner uses Meek Mill’ “Litty” beat to respond

You just gonna do what you supposed to ('Posed to) I remember when them hoes called me old news Now when they cheat, I'm the go-to (Joyner) Word on the street's I ain't one to get close to I was hopeless, now I'm hopeful (Yuh) I done made my own way like I'm supposed to All you niggas did what you was told to (Yeah) Tory, why all your songs always sound like a rerun, nigga? (Huh) I just want my motherfucking refund, nigga (Huh) Funny looking ass, go and eat some', nigga I ain't never had to get my fucking teeth done, nigga (Hahaha) When I kill you, I ain't running to you, bleed some, nigga (Yuh) Oh, you wan' be some nigga? (Yuh) Me and 6ix9ine had Trippie Redd bitch on the couch She was giving us a threesome, nigga

Why you bring my name up in the first place, Tory? (Yeah) You ain't fucking with me on my worst day, Tory (Uh) Wasn't better than me when I was in first grade, Tory We can do this every year on your birthday, Tory (Brrrat) Every summer, every winter, every Earth day, Tory Every Tuesday, every Thursday, Tory It's gon' be a motherfucking anniversary, Tory You done fucked up, now you need first aid, Tory

Shit Damn So now that we got that out the way, hmph Let's make a record, nigga Hahahahaha Joyner

Tory responds with a scorcher over the same Litty beat so that both had the exact same amount of time for their verses

And it goes on Kill a pussy nigga with his pantyhose on The gun is equipped for what ever hand it goes on To kill a backpack nigga with his Jansport on Geek ass nigga Dweeb ass nigga Never had a G-pass nigga 'Bout to ski mask his ass and eat fast nigga Pull the heat fast and blast And leave that nigga With his seat back nigga I'm a number one nigga in no time I been waiting for a nigga to give me the showtime In the jungle waiting for you to slip on the oak vine I'ma do this nigga like I was chewing a pork rind nigga Eminem couldn't get ya to a million on the 'Gram Chris Brown tried, nigga failed both times I done took ya page to a million in a day If you ask me, nigga, I'm ya motherfucking cosign I'ma hit the pussy ass nigga with a clothesline I'ma have to catch a nigga slipping in my own time I just took the flame on a private ass plane Out to Massachusetts, catch this nigga slipping in his hometown Ya see what go around come around and go around So I got his hoe going round like it go around Let these niggas know I'm not the one to toe-to-toe around Singing ass nigga not the one to leave your hoe around I'm about to hit him with the end of the K Word to my niggas in Heaven I'm 'bout to send em away I'm exhausted I kill this nigga two times 24 hours man this shit been a repetitive day Nigga tell me is it Joyner Lucas, Lucas Joyner? I'm the nigga who destroy ya Coupe deploy ya, label drop ya, who's the lawyer? Buy ya contract from them back and be who employ ya Oops, I'm going, who's condoning? Juice and jonesing Met ya bitch she too conjointed Tryna ask this pussy ass nigga who the fuck want smoke But the lightskin niggas in ya crew too spooked to join in I'm a nasty nigga, then you could ask these nigga The shotty dumping popping up outta the backseat, nigga I'm 'bout to leave his body bloody like a maxi, nigga I tax these niggas, get at these niggas, attack these niggas The venom is arachne, nigga I'm 'bout kill da man and da man that done backed these niggas And blam any man that'll try to dap you niggas And clap any stan fan that attract you niggas See ya daddy was a musician that never made it 'Cause when you was born nigga it was you or him Shattered knowing he would never make it as an artist And the odds of his life prolly be 2 to 1 But I give it to him 'cause he didn't run I guess he figured, "man when you look at it in a nutshell All I got is a failed music career and My revenge is giving that shit to my son" Nigga I'ma flossy nigga They try to toss me nigga The 45th I get em off me nigga I block niggas Chris Bosh these niggas I got figures pish posh to niggas I dump niggas, jump, criss cross these niggas The pump leave 'em slumped, in the car seat nigga The skunk in the trunk was an awkward nigga That thought he didn't need to have caution with him A cornball with a Boston fitted I said hold up my nigga man this shit crazy You fucked AYLEK$ man that shit crazy Nigga said he out here running threesomes with the Nigga that's in court dealing with the kid cases I'ma hit a stain then I hit a bad one Pull up on the nigga hold em up for ransom I got five plaques this year, you did a whole song with Eminem and still don't even have one nigga Damn, my lil homie that’s a bad one nigga Really feel bad for you it's a sad one nigga Hold your head steady maybe you could have one nigga Hit me for a hook and maybe get a plaque young nigga Shout go out to Wayno and Ak my nigga Tomorrow they'll be talking 'bout you got smacked young nigga From the pack my nigga I'm keeping this shit a stack, my nigga That "Litty" verse was wack, my nigga They go hard my dawg, but I go harder nigga Atcha head with the fade like a barber nigga Try to come for the boat and I'ma harbor niggas Be smart like a Harvard nigga don't start with niggas And he got a problem with us But nigga, I know how to solve it nigga This is my son I'ma tell 'em like Star Wars, "Lucas, I am your father" nigga You a perpetrating, work for hire, twerk for payment Busta Rhyme impersonating, worthless baby, irks him daily Hurts to say it, burger flipping, birthed in 80s Tryna be a 90s baby, thirty something tryna chase it Tryna make it, rocks designer, kinda fakes it Hates to face it That he'll never be a nigga that be placed for A-list, niggas damn Here's what he's thinking right now "I'm Joyner Lucas, why did I start it with this guy? Tory Lanez coming back what am I gonna do this time? They ain't like none of my diss lines Everybody knows I can spit it in quick time Even if the lines is as shitty as 6ix9ine's But this time they ain’t really letting me get by Fuck I'm finna do with this shit now? Damn I know this nigga finna be wild Knowin' this nigga bout to kill me on it OD now Don't nobody ever wanna book me for a show I ain't got no songs when I go I spit freestyles Try to make songs 'bout depression But nobody ever get it So I take it out on popping niggas beats now I ain't never ever trapped I ain't never slung a gat But the world don't know so fuck it, I'm a G now" Man, what the fuck wrong with him? I know something wrong with him I got a hundred bunch o' bullets 'bout to put 'em all in him Nigga walked in with a hundred rounds in him And he's seen a nigga chicken I was comin' down in it Glock nine nigga gotta run around with it I'ma son a nigga, keep it at least one-a-round with it Backpack niggas ain't sellin' no records Better dumb it down with it when you come around with it

This shit is easy man Yo it's crazy nigga I'm really-, I'm really-, I'm really being very generous, you know? Like I'm really doing you a favor, it's not a lot of niggas in my status that come down just to, you know, to come down and spank you niggas, pause man It's crazy, but you know I'ma do for you what niggas didn't do for me - that's older brother status So if you blow from this point on, I'm your cosign nigga, you know what it is Ayy Slow, that's facts right? Big facts, word to Ralph, nigga, word to big Jevante too, nigga You know what's going on nigga-, you know what the fuck's going on, nigga One Umbrella gang, nigga

Joyner finishes off the battle with Kodak Black’s ZeZe beat but doesn’t necessarily finish Tory.

Ahh, shit Joyner!

Yo, nigga's saying, "What a great battle" But you about to see a fucking snake rattle Boy, you just a pony with a pink saddle I'm truly sorry that you stuck inside of Drake's shadow When are you gon' overcome? (Huh) When are you gon' level up? When are you gon' grow another foot? (Huh) When are you gon' show us that you number one? (When) And everything that you accomplished in some years about to take me just a couple months Don't you think I'm bluffing neither I thought you were tougher, eager (Damn) How you almost signed to Justin Bieber? You look like a fuckin' beaver (Haha) Ten years in the game but yo' ass still sittin' on the fucking bleachers Boy, you just another diva (Just another diva) Heard yo' grandmama kicked you out the house screaming "Tory, we don't fucking need you" Why yo' daddy up and leave you? (Why) I guess this is how they fucking treat you And you my puppet, you my Cousin Skeeter This ain't what you wanted, they been waiting for it I'm Joyner Lucas, what the fuck you niggas take me for (What the fuck) I pull up in a Demon but I kill Satan for it If you want attention Tory you gon' have to pay me for it All these hoes love me but you sucker niggas hate me for it You roll up on me, catch a shot at ya Mercedes door The bullets fly, you recline like a La-Z-Boy All you do is cry, you a child, you my baby boy You call yourself Tory after The Notorious Big (Yeah) Biggie turning in his grave when he hear yo' shit Don't ever think that you could ever come compare yo' shit Little girls and kids only ones who feel yo' shit I skipped the plaques on my way to a Grammy All your records soft and sweet, niggas think that you candy Your niggas really convinced you that you think you can scare me And you got identity issues, niggas think you a tranny, really? (Damn) Tory tell us why you always gotta lie in your rhymes (Why) I know keeping up with lies can get tiring sometimes You not a G and deep down you wanna hide sometimes Staring at the sunshine and start crying sometimes Your real name is Daystar, you been dying to shine And when you sing you kinda sound like you dying sometimes You make the type of tracks that had me feelin' silent inside Nobody take you serious, put all the violence aside Okay, let's talk about your plagiarism that you hate to mention (Yeah) Or talk about the hate you giving to the greats you dissing (Let's talk about it) And that writer who wrote yo' shit still ain't get paid on that "Don't Die" record You should probably go pay the nigga (Yeah, man) And how the fuck you talk about Kendrick when he a legend (Huh) Then go bite the nigga style on your record right at the ending On 4AM Flex 2 minutes and 50 seconds Sound exactly like the Art of Peer Pressure, go take a listen You inspired by the niggas you name dropped Catch fire in the rain, no umbrella to shelter you and no rain drops When I seen you on Flex, I gave props But then we found out you stole Don Q shit from the train stop You thought you were fly 'til the plane drop Ugly motherfucker tryna stunt in a tank top It's no wonder why they used to feed yo' ass with a slingshot You my son, this the last time I'll give you a Ring Pop Sit down, you on punishment And don't get up until you see me And don't even think about touching that TV No more video games, no more phone, no more 3D No more radio or boombox for your weak ass CD Matter of fact, give me your chains back and everything I bought you You a disgrace to this family and everything I taught you I hate to say it son but you make me sick I should'a knew you weren't shit when you came out with a baby dick It's no wonder why you pay for pussy Tory you think you slick All you do is lounge around the house all day like a lazy prick Shit, highly disappointed in you son, I need some answers How come you couldn't follow in my steps and be a dancer? Or maybe write a book like me or be somebody's grandpa Instead you wanna be a fucking rapper with some hair plugs No more rapping, give me your pen and paper No more lying to the people on how you the biggest gangster Now hurry up and get your juicy out the refrigerator You going to bed at eight o'clock and not a minute later No, I don't wanna hear it No, let this be a lesson Close your mouth and go into your room like I suggested I'm a get real Joe Jackson in a second Matter of fact, give me your toys, I'm adding that to the collection I just did a show and got it lit ya little nigga And my freestyles killing your originals nigga Couldn't name a bitch I couldn't get ya little nigga You a rebound, even Scottie Pippen know nigga You ain't from Toronto, put that on the Bible I put six hollows in your Ferragamo Nigga, you from Brampton, go spin the bottle Bitch I'm from New England, me and Brady in the El Dorado Now come get on my level, I'm hard as metal I bomb the ghetto, I brought the shovel I bury all of you little ninja turtles You Donatello, you soft as jello You must be gone off that Amaretto It's hard to tell 'cause you soft as pillows You fucking midget, I call you Willow I throw you out a fucking car window I step all over your Margielas, you caught feelings Yo' heart spinning, my bars illing I'm Bob Dylan, I'm John Lennon, I'm authentic Your bars running no off limits Don't talk business, don't talk, listen I'm off this so you fuck this you fuck! Nigga

What, nigga Fuck out my face nigga Ayy nigga look We gonna get one in, pause Let's not, let's not do this back and forth shit no more I, I think we know what's up, you know Ha ha ha, Joyner

[lrtsilverknights]

Chesterton vs Silver Knights: 15/09/2018

Welcome Josh to the football family!

Up with the crack of the sparrows this morning to go on our longest journey yet to sunny Bicester in Oxford. On entering the venue, it looked a nice set up especially with the waft of bacon coming from the canteen area, so it didn’t take long for parents to partake in a bacon or sausage bap and a mug of tea whilst waiting for the lads to come out.

The boys had been asked to warm up off the pitch so that’s what they did whilst parents enjoyed the sun. They were also told that they would be on pitch number one but I think they got the numbering a bit wrong as it more resembled a concrete slab with the odd blade of grass here and there.

As the first half started it was clear from the off that the pitch/slab was going to cause havoc to the game. The ball spent more time up in the air more than it did on the floor and it was impossible to get a consistent flow until our first attack which started from Jack that found Josh in space who took control and crossed it to the wing were Harley was making a dash to cut inside and shoot only for the keeper to get his fingers to it and push it out to Will whose rebound was somehow cleared off the line. The boys in blue had somehow got us playing how they wanted to play with the ball going backwards and forwards like a boomerang up down, up down. It wasn’t pretty to watch but Archie and Theo were trying their best to get some control of the game to feed the ball up to Will and Gabe or out wide to the wingers, Jasper and Harley, They had a fairly big defender who won everything in the air which made things really difficult for the attackers although he was easily outpaced by Will and Jasper. Mason, our stand-in goalkeeper, was doing a fine job with some fantastic goal kicks - Jonty would have been proud of his performance - the boys at the back, Jack, Ollie, Harry and Reagan, were doing a superb job of protecting Mason’s goal.

The space on the pitch seemed to get smaller and play became more compact as no one knew were the ball was going to go next, so trying to find space became an issue for Theo and Archie as there wasn’t room to swing a cat. Then another long overhead Chesterton ball fell straight to the running path of one of the boys in blue who stole his opportunity and power shot it into the bottom corner: Mason had no chance of getting that but, typically, we’d done all the hard work and they have one attack and score!

The Silvers came out for the second half 1-0 down but they had their heads switched on and knew the way to win was to get this ball on the floor and play our game as opposed to the opposition’s. We absolutely took the bull by the horns and played them off the park! The amount of attacks was impressive but the ball failed to reach the back of the net. Some quality football was now being played with Josh taking control in front of the back line and the movement from Charlie up front was finding pockets of space. Will broke free from their back line following a beauty of a pass from Archie which resulted in him being brought down in the box as a boy in blue nearly pulled his shorts off – and not for the first time either! Penalty to the Silvers! Our super hoofer Reagan stepped up to the mark only for the keeper to make an impressive save… it was going to be one of those days!!!!

Another Silvers attack led to a scramble in the box with Theo, Chaz, Will and Gabe all there wanting that goal - bish, bash, bosh a little tap and it was in! Yes Chaz the poacher was on hand to deliver:

1-1.

We knew we had got the better of them now and we were confident of another goal or two going in. We had dominated the second half and showed them that we were by far the better team but, somehow, they again had one attack and managed to sneak a goal! The lads tried their hardest to get the equaliser but their frustration was running high and time was running out and the final whistle blew at 2-1.

Archie lost a lot of his studs on the concrete but we retrieved three of them after a search party was sent out after the game. We’ll have to wait and see whether Ball Bag Rob will be putting in a claim for some new boots!

On reflection, not the pitch you would want to play on every week and not our style of play. The boys were far the better footballing team with an 80 % possession of play and still ended up losing! As Ball Bag Rob said, “It’s a funny old game!!!”

Up the Silvers!

With thanks to Sharon for this week’s match report and commiserations to Jasper for his injury. Get well soon, Jasper!

[flauntpage]

Raptors Face Franchise-Defining Decision with Kyle Lowry

It is perhaps the most interesting free agent decision to ever face the Toronto Raptors. It may be the most important, too. Kyle Lowry, the 31-year-old point guard and three-time All-Star who is one of the chief figures responsible for the longest stretch of sustained success in franchise history, is an unrestricted free agent. He is due an enormous raise. He sounds unsure of whether or not Toronto will be the best fit for him, and the team sounds unsure of retaining him.

This is not Vince Carter demanding a trade, because Lowry has earned his right to test the market. This is not Chris Bosh darting for Miami after a series plagued by injury, despite some of the obvious similarities in situation, because the writing isn't anywhere near as on the wall, the path for player and team alike both (painfully) obvious. This is not even DeMar DeRozan, the first star to ever stay for a third contract.

"Well I got traded twice already, so," Lowry said Monday at Raptors locker clean-out day. "One thing about DeMar being drafted by here, he's never seen anything different, and he wants to be here, and he's built for that. Me, personally, of course you want to keep growing roots and sprouting more. It's always something you think about. When you've already established yourself somewhere, how can you make yourself grow, how can you get better or do this or that differently?"

If Lowry's response sounds conflicted, that's because it probably is. In speaking to the Toronto media for perhaps the last time as a member of the Raptors, the only thing that Lowry made clear was that winning was important to him. He shot down any talk of money, he gave little lip-service to fit (for what it's worth, he spoke highly of his relationship with head coach Dwane Casey), and he kept coming back to two things: He didn't know yet, and he wants to win a championship.

Lowry and DeRozan turned the franchise around. Photo by Jeff Swinger-USA TODAY Sports

"Honestly I haven't thought about the criteria. I will be opting out and that's as far as I've gotten," he said of the formality of his $12-million 2017-18 player option. He'd later expand ever so slightly. "A ring. Nothing else. I just want a ring."

If Lowry is being earnest that all he wants is a ring, then any scenario is on the table, including a discounted Kevin Durant Lite path where he joins one of the league's two top contenders. The more realistic options pose varying degrees of threats to the Raptors.

Toronto holds extra chips in the form of a fifth year, higher annual raises, and a deal that can total an estimated $207 million instead of $153.5 million. If Lowry's decision is about more than maximizing a shot at a ring in 2017-18, then they remain in play and are probably his most likely landing spot. Lowry will have to decide, perhaps in conversation with the Raptors' front office, whether or not his desire to win a ring has a chance to happen in Toronto.

"I think I can do that anywhere I play," he said. "That's just how confident I am. I've just got to be better. I put a lot of pride and joy into how hard I work. I've just got to work harder. I've got to do something different. I've got to get better. I want to beat the best. Whatever it takes to beat the best, that's what I've got to do."

The last note is especially salient after Lowry made it seem to Adrian Wojnarowski of The Vertical that it was unlikely that any East team could catch LeBron James in the near-term. If there's convincing to be done on the part of the Raptors, it may have to come in the form of the significant changes to the team's system that president Masai Ujiri talked up Tuesday. That pitch won't be coming from DeRozan, though, as the two have went through free agency together as friends letting friends make decisions as friends rather than pressuring or pitching would-be teammates.

"We gained something that go way beyond on basketball," DeRozan said. "That's why when it comes to things like this, I don't put the pressure on him or I don't say do this or do that. He gotta make the decision and whatever one he make, as a friend, I gotta be there to support him. 'Cause it's something beyond basketball. I wouldn't wanna hinder him or make anything more hectic than it's already going to be."

The first part of the conundrum to be sorted out on July 1, then, is whether Lowry even wants to stay.

In an offseason with many difficult questions, ones that don't have clear right or wrong answers, everything flows from the Lowry domino. Lose Lowry and it probably doesn't make sense to retain Serge Ibaka and both of P.J. Tucker and Patrick Patterson. Despite their 14-7 record without Lowry, the Raptors succeeded against an easy stretch of schedule and struggled on the offensive end. A DeRozan-Ibaka core tops out as first-round fodder and still hinders the team's financial flexibility some moving forward, and so losing Lowry probably necessitates a difficult step backward.

Everything this summer starts and ends with Lowry.

Lowry represented the Raptors in three straight All-Star Games. Photo by Bob Donnan-USA TODAY Sports

"We want him back," Ujiri said. "He's been a huge part of the success here. But what is to say Kyle doesn't call me five days from now and says, 'You know what, I'm not coming.' Then whatever I've said here doesn't mean anything. So yes, there is a domino effect there and we have to make the right decision."

Even if Lowry tells the Raptors yes, the matter is not clear cut, especially if that yes comes with the contingency of the full five-year max. The Raptors will probably aim for a four-year deal that ties the end of his contract to that of DeRozan's. If they give him a fifth year, it stands to reason that they'd want to pay him below the annual max, finding a middle ground between his four-year max elsewhere and his full max with Toronto (DeRozan, remember, signed for about 91 percent of a much smaller max; Lowry does not owe anyone that same courtesy). And while retaining DeRozan a season ago was a bigger deal in the larger organizational sense—retaining a home-grown star for the first time was a genuinely big achievement—Lowry's free agency stands to have a larger impact on the future of the franchise.

The case can be made that Lowry ranks as high as No. 1 in terms of the best players in franchise history. It cannot be argued that he ranks any lower than No. 4. DeRozan has led the team in scoring and they have the same number of All-Star berths, sure, but Lowry's impact on the court has been far more pronounced, both in the regular season and through his postseason struggles. As Lowry's gone, so too have the Raptors. Kyle Lowry Over Everything, and all that, with the Everything probably including a strict dollars-for-production calculation on what could be troubling back-end years of a big contract.

The decision to re-invest in largely the same core is a tough one, but at least with Lowry in the fold, competing remains an option. It does post a long-term flexibility threat, especially if the Raptors top out at what they were this year. Lowry didn't have a ton of mileage on him when he got to Toronto, but he's averaged 36.3 minutes over the last four years and made four postseason runs, with an Olympics mixed in. He's also listed at 6-feet, and while he's totaled 40.5 win shares over the last four years, the history of shorter point guards keeping up that level of production after age 32 is spotty. It's basically John Stockton and then an enormous cliff to useful secondary pieces.

There is no means of replacing him, though. Even renouncing all of their free agents and jettisoning their draft pick doesn't get the Raptors close to the salary they'd need for a player of Lowry's ilk on the market. This core without him is nowhere near worth paying into the luxury tax for, or even committing to long term. Keep him, and the long-term outlook turns cloudy with inflexibility, but at least they're assured of being good a while longer. Again, there are no clear answers, other than that Lowry is terrific, that he is an immensely important piece, and that he is due a substantial raise, in Toronto or elsewhere.

That the Raptors have the opportunity to retain a star once again, that they could continue the best stretch in franchise history by doing so, and that neither side seems sure as to whether that's the best way to proceed, well, that's a pretty good microcosm of the position the Raptors find themselves in this summer.

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