#hats off to you if you caught my reference to Connor

[jacepens]

Hi I see that you're taking requests so if you're not too busy, I got something for you: do you remember the Assassin's Creed thing that Tyranny of King Washington game? Yeah, so a tyrant King George Washington AU but also involving Lafayette as like a French prince or something who is placed in an arranged marriage with George?? And like Lafayette is slowly goes corrupt like his husband and they're soon like this completely sexy evil power couple kinda deal?? Thank you!

Anon how dare you know my heart so well!! I recently played Assassins Creed III and the Tyranny of King Washington. I don’t know if you know the story behind it, because this is definitely based off the game but hooo boy this is incredible. Thank you so so much for giving me an excuse to rant about this. Because oh my god I adored playing Tyranny. (And making fun of King Washington.) 

Real quick: for those who don’t know the game (which might also be you anon, I don't know) the reason that in the Tyranny of King Washington, Washington goes absolutely insane with power, is because he’s got an Apple of Eden which is an Assassin’s Creed thing that’s basically an old godly relic that is extremely manipulative and powerful. But anyway, here is your little story that I had way too much fun with :)

EDIT: I just added a few morbid details to some of the things Lafayette asked for because I felt they were quite important to see. So you know, if you read this before you saw those details, I’d recommend you at least glance at it again;). EDIT 2: ok ok sorry to be so indecisive but there is now just a dash more sexy at the very end.

Spoiled Rotten to the Core

A burst of golden light was all it took to bring men to their knees. Was all it took to conjure visions, control minds, bring entire countries to their knees.

King Washington. The name alone made anger rise hot in his chest, made him remember and grieve all the things that name stole from him. 

Being Prince of France in a war-shaken world made everything he’d ever dealt with before feel like nothing. 

No one was powerful enough to stop him. Hundreds, thousands, tried and they all ended up in the same place. Six feet underground—if they were lucky, that is. He’d read it was quite common for decaying bodies to be left strewn about the American countryside with no respect for life or death. It was despicable.

But then, King Washington made Lafayette an offer he would be a fool to refuse.

Famine, war, destruction, plague—it all weighed heavy on Lafayette’s mind. He had done everything he could to secure his country alongside his father, the King. They were one of the few countries still standing that had not fallen to the plague of America, and they were one of the world’s last beacons of hope.

King Washington, who seemed to live on another plane of existence entirely, descended upon their country with fury and destruction in his eye. 

Lafayette hunkered down, sobbing and waiting for the worst to be over knowing that they were done—they were finished! 

Miraculously, they were still standing at days end. 

And then King Washington promised his country could continue to thrive and be sovereign and independent from America—all he had to do was marry him. 

Before Lafayette was able to make the choice for himself, his father was already throwing him on a boat and carting him off to the capital of Washington’s new world. New York City.

Washington’s palace was a grand threat looming over the shore. And Lafayette’s heart was caught in his throat. 

When the boat docked, the area became flooded with eager people, so tightly packed together nothing could break through.

Lafayette was paraded through the city like a prize. Their new King! They cried, weeping tears of joy, but Lafayette wondered if those tears were not of joy but of sorrow. 

Lafayette was granted permission inside that grand structure they called the palace with a blindfold over his eyes. It was yanked off once he was inside and he was allowed to gawp at the sheer opulence and magnificence of the interior. The exterior may have looked like a threatening symbol, but inside? Why it made Lafayette’s heart soar in a very particular way. A way that his heart craved to feel again.

Meeting King Washington was a strange experience. Just like the feeling he got in the palace, he felt the same way about Washington. Cool, stoic, and wearing decadent clothes only worthy of a King.

He gripped his scepter that brimmed with power, and Lafayette was drawn towards it. He craved that gentle golden light that King Washington possessed, craved the power he gained. Worst of all, he craved Washington. 

When he gripped his chin and stared into his eyes, as if he was inspecting a piece of fine china, Lafayette felt an unfamiliar sensation shudder through him. Would he disappoint? Washington left without a single word being said, and Lafayette felt traitorously like he wanted to scream and demand he come back that instant. 

He was laid to rest in the comfiest of beds and surrounded by the hundreds of beautiful things that had caught King Washington’s interest over his years as ruler. 

Was that all Lafayette was to him? He wondered with growing sickness. A beautiful Prince that happened to gain his interest? Interest already so quickly moved on. 

Their wedding was lavish and a display of pure opulence. Lafayette was gifted a grand new ensemble to get married in, and dozens of new outfits to show his station as King. King Lafayette. 

A crown was placed upon his head and the crowd chanted his name, thousands of people from below. Lafayette was overcome with adoration for the people below, and the way he understood he could now control them.

He laid in bed with Washington that night, unused to seeing him in such an informal air. The only thing exchanged was a few kisses before Washington suddenly screamed and shouted that he needed to leave at once. He saw that possessive glimmer in his eye, all for that damn scepter, and Lafayette left him to go back to his own room.

He was disappointed to say the least.

As months with Washington wore on, Lafayette understood more and more that he really was there to serve as some sort of pretty pet. But one that Washington readily spoiled.

All it took was Lafayette pressing a few kisses to his lips, and whatever he wished for was his.

He wished for many things as the boredom grew. He wished for paintings and artifacts from across the world, new animals to be displayed in the zoo, and even a little poodle to try and take the loneliness away. As his boredom and curiosity grew, he began demanding more unique experiences. What possessed him to do so, he wasn’t sure. When he asked George for a traitor to slaughter, so he could revel in the sight of their sickly blood slowly draining out them by Lafayette’s almighty sword. When he asked, begged, pleaded if he might throw them in the tigers den just to see what might happen. The angry thought burned in his heart—it was what traitors to King Washington deserved.

Until it dawned on him heavily one day that there was only one thing in the entire world that could make him happy. Two things, perhaps. 

The power, and the one who wielded it.

He smiled as he entered the throne room to see King Washington, quickly turned to look at him, a little smirk dazzling his face. Lafayette quickly set himself down in Washington's lap, as he knew he so enjoyed, and quietly pressed kisses to his cheek and down his neck.

It was strange, the way he enjoyed him. They hardly ever exchanged a word together and yet here Lafayette was, working to earn his affections. His arm encircled around his waist and Lafayette sighed and shifted closer. 

“You want something else, don’t you?” Washington purred, suddenly bringing his lips to Lafayette’s neck.

He let out a gasp, “Only your affections, my highness.”

“Ah, but you earned that long ago.”

“Did I really?” Lafayette giggled, pressing his nose to Washington’s, “Because it’s my understanding that husbands who love each other are supposed to share.”

Washington roared, suddenly shoving Lafayette back, but Lafayette held firm to his throne. “You dare.” He hissed, unmistakable anger coursing through him.

“Don’t you see it, my highness?” Lafayette dropped to his knees before him, “you chose me for a reason. Two is better than one, don’t you agree?” He hummed, dragging his palms and digging his fingernails up Washington’s thighs. He continued to fume above him, but Lafayette could practically hear that resolve chipping away, could hear a faint humming his ears. “Ah, do you hear it? Bring it out, show me that golden apple and it will show you just how much you need me.” He whined.

He watched with anticipation, could see it like a shivering line around Washington as he reached and pulled the apple from it’s scepter. Lafayette sat up, trying to press forward, his heart hammering loudly, seconds away from everything he could ever dream of—. 

He began weeping as Washington pressed it into his palm, tears rolling down his cheeks as his eyes were opened to the knowledge of the universe. He saw strange men with godly powers crushed by this apple, he witnessed entire galaxies being birthed just with the tap of a finger, he saw the way into every person’s heart, he felt every weakness suddenly overwhelm and consume him before he could begin to breath fresh air again. 

King Washington took the apple from his hand, and brought him up into his lap again. Lafayette grinned, a sickly dark and previously unknown grin to his face. His fingertips brimmed with power that he could feel rushing through his veins. He saw the way to destruction, a clear path ahead of him with Washington at his side. 

“You are beautiful, you know.” He heard Washington growl in his ear, breath hot.

Lafayette hummed and then leered, mind overflowing with new ideas. “Then allow your beautiful King to show you his gratitude for granting him such a gift.” He purred, sliding back down to his knees.

This world was not yet the last they would conquer. 

[whisker-biscuit]

Silent as the Grave Chapter 4: A Story for the Ages

Fandom: Sly Cooper

Summary: Inspector Pennington recounts a story about Connor Cooper, and a fateful decision is made.

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Inspector Singh has a million questions on his mind, but he remains quiet as he goes to retrieve the records his partner has requested. That quiet lasts until the heavy folder of paperwork hits their shared work desk with a heavy thump.

“So, you planning on telling me why this particular criminal group is supposed to be related to the Cooper case?”

Francine’s ever-present frown is even more pronounced, and she opens the first labeled tab to pull out four photos. Then she places them side by side on her desk to face her partner and taps the child’s notepad list.

“Tell me what you see.”

Bodie looks across each picture.

A giant green frog in a blue metallic top hat sneers at the camera while adjusting the cuff links of his white gloves. An incredibly muscular bulldog wearing a wife beater and suit pants, caught in a grainy black and white picture from a camera feed as he holds twelve people hostage in a bank robbery. A panda, in only a pair of red pants, has at least five different kinds of fireworks strapped to his back with a separate rocket in his hand aimed right for whoever took the photo. The fourth picture is blurry and an almost intangible mess of colors, but half the head of an alligator with dark curls and a red bandana is recognizable in the bottom left side.

Bodie looks at the scribbled list. Frog. Dog. “Aligater.” Bear. He glances back at the pictures a second time.

“Alright, so four members of the Fiendish Five check out with the species,” the younger inspector says slowly as his mind churns. “And I know they’re an international criminal group, which would put them as potential suspects above a lot of others at least. But what made you think of them first? We’re not usually made to be aware of criminals outside of our assigned targets.”

The elephant has been flipping through the rest of the folder as her partner connected the dots, and she ignores his question until she finds what she’s looking for. She pulls it out triumphantly and holds it up.

“Because of this.”

It’s a fifth photo of the fifth member – but all Bodie can see is a vague bird-shaped silhouette against a darkened sky. He raises an eyebrow.

“Who is that supposed to be?”

“Clockwerk.”

“And…am I supposed to know this name?”

Francine sighs, exasperated, and rubs the space between her eyes with her trunk. “Why couldn’t they assign me someone who actually knows the Cooper case?”

“You’re the one who knows the Cooper case. I’m here because it was a double homicide with a witness, and Interpol needed info on the perps as soon as possible.” The sun bear plops into his desk chair like he hasn’t a care in the world, but there’s ice in his tone. “Which I got. So enlighten me, Ms. Expert. Who is Clockwerk and why does it matter so much?”

His partner shakes her head, having quietly accepted that winning this argument would get them nowhere. “Clockwerk is the fifth member and leader of the Fiendish Five, and the only reason we know that for sure is because of a three-way confrontation between us, him, and Connor Cooper about six or seven years ago.”

Bodie leans forward to grab the silhouette photo. He squints at it and makes a ‘go on’ motion with his hand. Francine rolls her eyes.

“I was leading a team to catch Cooper in the act of a heist, because we received an anonymous tip that matched up with his M.O. and his activity was starting to peter out around that time. Actually, that –” she snatches Sly’s birth certificate up and scans it, then grunts. “Yeah, that coincides with his child’s birth almost perfectly.”

“So, Cooper got busy and then realized he wanted to be a family man.”

“Not quite. He and his gang were still doing heists, just more sporadic. This one was his last big one though, because there was a run-in with the Fiendish Five that neither of us expected.”

“What makes you think he didn’t expect it? Cooper’s been known to drag other criminals into his messes all the time, right?”

“He didn’t expect it because Clockwerk almost killed him,” Francine states grimly. She steeples her fingers together to prop her mouth against them. “He was stealing from this massive corporation that had just unearthed the fabled Rockhopper Crusoe treasure in Chile, and I was laying in wait for him on the specific ship that was transporting it. Sure enough, he showed up along with his muscle man, Jim McSweeney, that very night. I was with a squad of four and we were less than a second away from revealing ourselves, when the sky went dark.”

The elephant pauses, expression glazing over in a memory for just a moment before returning to the present.

“It was Clockwerk. He was so big that hovering right over us blocked out the moon.”

“What happened?” Bodie asks, riveted by the story and surprised by the fact that he is.

“Chaos happened – my team and I watched as this massive, massive bird swooped down and made a grab for Cooper with his talons. The man barely got out of the way in time and so they went right through the hull of the ship instead. That was easily a meter of pure steel, pierced in one single blow. It was…it was terrifying.”

Francine has been through many close calls and brushed up against death more than once. But that moment, witnessing someone so monstrous in size, strength, and killing intent, had brought out a primal fear that she never even knew she had. It had been one of the most terrifying moments of the inspector’s life and she hadn’t even been the target of the great bird’s hatred.

She shakes off the shivers running up her spine and continues. “Of course, we had to make ourselves known right then because the ship started sinking, and we were afraid that Clockwerk would either kill Cooper or kill us unintentionally in his attempts to. The crew came up on deck too to see what was going on, and it was pandemonium. People were shouting and shooting and god knows what else.

“I still went after Cooper, because he was my target first and foremost. He and his crony were booking it for the far side of the ship – no doubt their getaway boat was that way – and I ran after them until Clockwerk landed right in front of the two.”

Bodie whistles. “How close were you?”

“I was behind Cooper and McSweeney about…probably about five meters or so. Close enough I could hear them talking.”

“They started talking? Just having a pleasant chat after the guy almost crushes his skull?”

“It was the farthest thing from pleasant, I can assure you.” Francine says flatly. “But to sum it up, Cooper called Clockwerk by name, asked him what he’d ‘been up to lately’, and the bird said he’d started assembling his own team.”

“The Fiendish Five.”

“Yes, although we didn’t have that name at the time.” The Chief Inspector picks up the photo of Clockwerk, almost clutching it to her chest in the way she examines it. “Clockwerk said one last thing before taking off, and I was too preoccupied with trying to stop Cooper and his crony from escaping to give it much thought at the time.

“He said, and I quote: ‘I look forward to meeting him.’ With the way both Cooper and McSweeney reacted, I’d thought he was referring to the third Cooper Gang member, Dr. Zaroff Mandrill, since he mostly worked on the technical aspects and almost never went into the field.”

They both look down at the homework assignment with the drawing of the silhouetted bird blocking out the moon.

“Do you think he told the kid?” Bodie asks after a long, shared silence.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why he’d ever have a reason to, but Cooper never ran by any logic I could follow.”

The sun bear sits back in his chair to stare at the ceiling in contemplation. “Well, even if the kid didn’t know about Clockwerk, Clockwerk sure knew about the kid. Wonder if he would’ve left him alone if he knew where he was in that house.”

“He had a grudge against Cooper strong enough for murder, and there’s a whole slew of heinous crimes credited to the Fiendish Five. I wouldn’t put pedicide past any of them.”

“So…what do we do?” Bodie eyes the homework assignment again.

“I’m going to start by opening an official investigation into Cooper’s murder. Publicly, we’ll announce that we’re looking into every conceivable source of the slaughter without mentioning the Fiendish Five at all. If they find out they’re the primary suspects, they’ll know someone was close enough to identify them. However, some of these criminal groups consider it an honor to have taken other high-profile groups out, so with any luck one of the Five will announce that they were the ones behind it. It won’t help us much in pinning them down to arrest, but it would be hard evidence for a long sentence at least.”

Francine writes out the plan as she says it, already making notes about who and what she’s going to get involved in the investigation. Inspector Singh starts taking his own memo.

“Leave the PR to me, I know how to spin a crowd and tease out the information we want released.”

“Fine. Good.” The elephant pauses, then points her pen at her partner. “Do not bring up Cooper’s child in any interviews or statements. Even if the Five weren’t planning on killing him too, it’ll be dangerous for knowledge of him to get out. Cooper’s old gang are still at large and they might whisk the boy off. That’s not even mentioning the countless other enemies Cooper has made through the years who might want their own form of revenge.”

“I’m already one step ahead of you,” he replies easily. “How’s this for a headline? Cooper Family Found Slain in American Suburb, Culprits Unknown. It’s the truth, we won’t have to mention the kid, and no one will be the wiser.”

She only grunts in response, her trunk pressed against her chin as she stares at the family information and tries to figure out what they’re going to do about the surviving child.

“We need to make him disappear completely,” the older inspector says softly. Bodie looks up, confused, and she clarifies. “Cooper’s son. He still needs to go somewhere. We can’t keep him in that hospital forever.”

Bodie follows her gaze to the stack of official documents on the desk. His eyes alight on the marriage certificate and a specific name jumps out.

Charlotte James-Cooper. James-Cooper. James.

“Then we won’t. We’ll give him a new identity and drop him off somewhere inconspicuous. No fuss, no media attention, just treat him like any other kid who’s in the system.” He taps a pencil to his snout. “Honestly, we don’t even really need to check up on him either. We already have the suspect list from him and I doubt there’ll be a will anyone can track since Interpol is going to seize all of Cooper’s assets. Maybe if the investigation runs cold or we need every gruesome detail of the attack, but that’s the only thing I can think of.”

Francine gives him a hard look. “You just don’t want to deal with him again.”

“You’re the one that said it out loud, not me.”

“Knock it off with the games. I hate games.” She shakes her head and turns back to her work. “Do we have a name for the boy? The sooner I can get legal documents made the better.”

“Sure do!” He points out the dead woman’s name with a grin. “Sylvester James. Close enough to make the paperwork easier but far enough that it won’t be immediately recognizable for anyone really looking.”

“That’s…actually not bad,” the elephant concedes.

“I have my moments.”

She adds the new name on her computer system, then stops. “The only issue with this plan is if the boy starts spouting off about his identity to people.”

“Francine, that kid is as silent as his dad’s corpse. I have a good feeling he’s not going to blab. And even if he does, people will think it’s just his imagination. Kid loses both his parents in a terrible accident, he happens to be a raccoon, and coincidentally Connor Cooper himself has been found slain in the same town. It will just look like this kid wants attention, closure, or both. The end.”

She can’t fault his logic, and so the separate requests are made to open a homicide investigation for Connor Cooper and create the needed documents for one Sylvester James. With finality, Chief Inspector Pennington sends both requests to their supervisor. Then she turns to her partner.

“It’s done. From now on, what happened in this office is classified information. No one can know the connection between this case and Sylvester.”

Detective Inspector Singh gives a single nod, more serious than he’s been the entire last day and a half.

“For all intents and purposes, Sly Cooper doesn’t exist.”

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A/N: Well that statement won't backfire spectacularly lmao

This story is no longer dead! I can't believe it's been over a year and a half, and I honestly don't have any excuse beyond that I just....wasn't as interested in Sly for a while. Luckily for all of us, the interest is back full force and I have evening and weekend free time to actually write now! Hooray!

Apologies to everyone who waited patiently for this fic to update. You deserve a lot better, but I will try to make it up to you.Next chapter we'll get to see how the decisions made here affect Sly, and maybe get some outside perspective on things ;)

[nelllraiser]

drunken sailors | connor & nell

TIMING: before nell’s drowning via constance. PARTIES: @nelllraiser and @connorspiracy. SUMMARY: a pair of drinks for a pair of friends leads to an evening of fun. CONTENT: nsfw talk and implications.

Connor wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. Surely Nell had just been messing with him about the sex toys. It wasn’t that he was opposed. He’d been propositioned in worse ways before, but he did his best to play it cool. As if he hadn’t showered and manscaped and worn one of his nicer-than-usual outfits. Not fancy or anything, just something that wasn’t an old hoodie. He used a subtle amount of cologne that would soon be covered by the strawberry scent of his vape as he waited outside for Nell to arrive. When he saw her approach, he flashed her a little smile. “So, were you going to mention the fact it looks like a dry cleaners outside or just come here expecting to laugh at me for standing around looking lost?” 

Nell wasn’t the sort of girl who needed to be taken out or anything before having a good time between the sheets. In fact, she was generally quite the opposite. Why not just skip to the good part? Well— she supposed it wasn’t always good. But still- might as well know sooner rather than later, right? And Connor seemed nice enough. Nell was always up for fun when it came to bedroom activities, having little discretion concerning what other party was involved. Approaching the man in question, she gave him a curious once over, a prickle of uncertainty finding her as she realized he’d at least gone through some effort for the evening. It wasn’t that she hadn’t. After all, she’d donned an outfit that showed off the better parts of her assets, figuring that it would be as good an incentive for Connor as any. Something seemed...different between them. Almost as if they’d prepared for two different types of evening, though she wasn’t sure if she was entirely correct. Either way, she returned Connor’s grin, looking up at the dry cleaners in question. “What? No, I just thought we’d stop here first, right? Get our errands done and all that. Honestly, I can’t believe you’d think such a thing of me.” Even if it did sound exactly like something she would do. Nevertheless, she didn’t hesitate as the door opened, entering the bar as a heady rush of air whooshed out.

Connor shook his head with a playful little grin. Honestly, when he’d met Nell, he just wanted to see some demons, but he was starting to genuinely enjoy her company and humor. His life was so often filled with serious things; loss and tragedy and darkness, longing and despair. Nell was a little bit of levity in the sea of what-the-fuck. “Right, yeah, thought you’d make sure we’ve got clean clothes for tomorrow morning and all that,” he teased. “Give it a rest. I am a supernatural investigator you know. I asked around about the place.” He reached for the door, opening it for her. “After you.” Upon opening the door they were greeted with the sound of the jukebox playing, the soft knocking of pool balls against each other, and the casual chattering of the patrons. “Do they serve supernatural drinks here? You’ve been before, yeah? I’m excited for your recommendations.” 

A half-smirk was quick to form on Nell’s lips as Connor mentioned a morning after. Okay, maybe they were still on similar pages. That was good. “So that means you’re still on for trying out those sex toys?” she teased, not yet saying outright that she’d be taking part as well as a means of dangling the bait a bit. A playful eyeroll was quick to follow his statement about his job, though she knew he did it well based on his YouTube channel. “Sorry, should I have brought you a deerstalker hat? Are you going to demand I call you Sherlock or something now? I think Nancy Drew might fit better.” Looking around at the patrons, she felt comfortable knowing that they all were a part of a similar world. The supernatural one. Even if she was still human, she’d always felt that supernaturals were more welcoming of witches than non-powered humans were, and such a thing had been proven in her life thus far. “Of course they serve supernatural drinks. What do you usually like?” she asked with a grin. “Then I can go from there.”

“To be honest,” Connor answered, an almost embarrassed chuckle, “I wasn’t sure if you were serious or just winding me up, so I didn’t want to assume.” He gave her a small smile. “But yeah, I’m game if you are.” He shook his head with an ‘oh, fuck off’ kind of grin at her Sherlock-Nancy Drew comment. “I prefer Ryan Bergara.” If she got that reference, he might just have to snog her there and then. “Well, nothing with blood in it. Nothing that’s going to make me too pissed to stand up straight, sexy as it would be for you to carry me home,” he teased. “Most places I go are so in denial about the supernatural, they don’t even have places like this, so the choice is yours, darling.”

Nell’s amusement only grew as she watched the young man do his best to reply, eyebrow raised as she waited. “Oh, so you’re wanting me to try them out as well?” she teased, unable to pass up the opportunity to do so. Obviously she’d been propositioning him, but it was a little too fun to joke around. “Is that a solo sort of situation or were you hoping for something else?” A small laugh fell from her before she answered, “You wanna be the one that’s basically notorious for being scared half the time?” She hadn’t watched the Buzzfeed Unsolved videos religiously, but every now and then they were amusing enough. A playful tsk of her tongue, and then she was leaning forwards over the bar, trying to catch the attention of the bartender. “Alright, fine...no blood,” she affirmed before placing their order. “So where all have you been?”

“To be honest, I figured you already had.” Connor grinned at her. “An experienced and adventurous young woman like yourself.” There was something very attractive about how forward she could be without being cringy. Most people couldn’t pull that off, but she had a natural confidence and charm that he found appealing. “Not the scared part. I meant more the curiosity and ability to think outside the box. Not that much scares me, love.” It was true he had a higher threshold for getting the spooks than most people, but Nell had seen first hand that scaring him wasn’t impossible. Just throw some hellhounds at him. 

“Where have I been?” he repeated. Once they had called the bartender and Nell ordered their drinks, Connor also ordered some pretzels from the bar so he had something to munch on while they chatted. "Loads of the most haunted places in the UK. Pluckley Village, Blickling Hall, the Ancient Ram Inn, Chillingham Castle." He opened his pretzels, offering one to Nell. "Then I did Europe. Zvíkov Castle, Château de Brissac, Wolfsegg Castle. Obviously when I came to America I had to do The Stanley Hotel and the Winchester House, The Queen Mary. Loads of places. But not all haunted places are famous, too. Sometimes it's just some desperate person trying to get someone to believe them."  

A small snort found its way through Nell, and she didn’t bother to hide the amusement on her face. “You caught me. But that’s probably the nicest way someone’s ever said it,” she chuckled. The witch knew she had a healthy sex life, and she’d never thought that a bad thing. Of course, her fellow high schoolers back in the day often had different ideas- especially when you were already essentially a social pariah. “Are you sure about that?” she instantly teased, most likely taking his bait. “I seem to remember you getting a little...concerned about some very cute hellhounds.” Soon enough their drinks had arrived, and Nell was raising her’s to Connor’s in a miniature toast before taking a sip. “Did you have a favorite?” she asked, interested to hear they’d been to some of the same countries. But she knew all too well what it was like to have someone hanging onto you as if you were their last hope, and nodded along with his words. She’d found enough of those in her travels, as well. “I ended up going to some really remote places because of people like that. Some of those places were my favorites, though.”

"Alright, that's different. You sprung 'em on me, literally," Connor teased, laughing. He took another pretzel as she asked about his favourite place he'd visited. "There's this place called 'The Cage'," he snickered at the tasteless name. "Lovely, eh? It's a house in Essex that used to be a medieval jail for people accused of witchcraft. Bloody ugly as well. Painted bright yellow on the outside, looks like it's never been redecorated, chains hanging off some of the walls. But a hotspot. Really interesting activity." He leaned a bit closer to her with a smile. "You're obviously not afraid to get stuck in with the supernatural. What got you into it? You don’t just spring from the womb summoning hellhounds and corpse-uncles." 

“I warned you,” Nell insisted with a half-smirk and chuckle, having a bit too much fun prodding at Connor. This time she grabbed one of the pretzels as well, glad to be snacking on something while she listened. At the mention of taking witches prisoner, Nell hummed in discontent, her lips pressing together. “Half the time- I feel like they weren’t even real witches. Otherwise they probably would have escaped or something. Either way- what a bunch of dickwads.” Witches weren’t as prosecuted as supernaturals like shifters and fae, but they’d also been some of the most famously hunted. “I’m sure there’s a bunch of pissed off spirits there, though.” It would only make sense. His question about the supernatural caught her slightly off-guard, and she wasn’t entirely sure of an answer until it was coming out of her. “Well- I mean I was obviously raised as a witch by my family in my coven and everything. We’re all witches. I’ve known about the supernatural for as long as I can remember. Or did you mean past that?”

“Well, yeah, people accused of being witches, I should say.” Had Nell ever technically mentioned she was a witch? Connor tried to remember. He didn’t think so, but he’d sort of sussed it out from the summonings and the way she was acting now that he talked about them being locked up. “Half the time it was just people being bloody paranoid about herbal medicine or accusing someone for the sake of it.” And now she confirmed his suspicions about her being a witch. He nodded, understanding. “Whatever you fancy telling me, love,” he said casually, sipping his pint. “You seemed more interested in doing something else than talking, which I’m fine with,” he gave her a small smile. “Just thought I’d try and be something of a gentleman and have a drink with you before asking you to peg me.” 

Now that Nell thought about it, she supposed she hadn’t outrightly said she was a witch. But hopefully her nodding along to Connor’s words of witches and warlocks in her greenhouse had been enough of a confirmation for him. “Literally- just paranoid normie humans being all worried about someone who has a little more power than them.” Well- a lot more power if she was being fair. Still- the stigma around witches was alive and well in the non-supernatural community. Growing up as something of a loner and outcast because of the strange happenings around her had been proof enough of that. Soon enough, the levity of the evening had returned, and Nell was freely laughing at Connor’s phrasing. “I already told you- I’m not a girl that needs to be wined and dined,” she replied with a grin. “As for the pegging- we’ll see what sort of mood I’m in when we get out of here. Which leads me to the next question of ‘do you wanna get out of here’?”

“Wined and dined?” Connor repeated, snickering. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket along with a lighter. “What about beer, pretzels and a ciggie?” He took another sip of his drink. Whatever Nell had got him was strong. He felt a pleasant tingling sensation in his fingertips, and a little more confident than a few minutes earlier. “Well, love, since smoking in bars and pubs is prohibited in Maine, reckon we should head back to yours. But I did enjoy the drink.” He hoped he wasn’t being too presumptuous, but given the direction their conversation had already taken, he wasn’t too worried. “We’ll see where the night - and whatever toys you’ve got - takes us, yeah?” 

A light and playful eyeroll was Nell’s reaction to Connor’s words, though they’d also gotten another laugh from her. “No- a takis and cake kinda girl.” But his confirmation was all Nell needed to finish the last dregs of her drink before standing from the bar, and shooting him a knowing look. After all, she hadn’t been anything close to subtle. That was generally how she preferred it, though. No dancing around the subject or anything half as tedious. If she knew what she wanted, and they knew what they wanted- what was the point? “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Now she was headed for the door, and looking over her shoulder at Connor as she went. “I think I could handle that. I just hope you can,” she said as her last tease, ready to see where the night would lead.

[timetravelingheart]

My Side of the Fence Part Seven: A.M. Imagine

Warning: From here on out, there may be references to sex and/or smut scenes. I probably won’t go too into detail, but who knows. Depends on where the writing takes me. Consider yourself warned! :) As always, feedback is appreciated. 

“I’ve never seen him this way before,” Mitch mock-whispered to Morgan as they watched Auston walk from his bathroom to his bedroom closet over and over, trying on different shirts, hats, and shoes, leaving a pile of ‘rejects’ strewn across the floor and bed. 

“Did he get hit in the head at all during practice or a game?” Morgan mock-whispered back. 

“You two are not helping,” Auston grunted as he pulled on his go-to white tee for the third time. Morgan and Mitch stopped by after their afternoon practice to ‘help’ Auston get ready for his non-date, but he was starting to regret letting them tag along. He was used to taking their chirps, and usually giving them back just as well, but he had been on edge all day. If anything, they only made him more nervous. 

“Dude, what’s the deal?” Morgan moved in to the room from his place in the doorway, cleared a space on the queen-size bed, and plopped down. Mitch quickly followed suit. As much fun as they had been having teasing Auston about his crush ever since Auston and Savannah met, he knew his best friend was really worked up about their non-date tonight. 

“What do you mean?”

“You used to go out on dates with random girls all the time and you were always a cocky little shit about it-” Morgan’s quick reflexes helped him catch the balled up sweater Auston whipped at his head before it could hit him. “We all know it’s true so don’t even deny it. Seriously man, what’s up? Why is this non-date such a big deal?”

Sighing, Auston sat down on the large chair in the corner of the room and put his head in his hands, carefully avoiding the hair he spent a good twenty minutes styling into place. Mitch and Morgan waited patiently for their friend to speak, not wanting to set him off. 

“She’s not just some random girl. She’s...I don’t even know how to explain it. It sounds so insane every time I try to even put it into words because we’ve only known each other for over a month now and I still feel like I don’t really know much about her. But I can’t stop thinking about her. And she’s not just some girl I want to hook up with,” he paused, waiting for his friends to make fun of him. When nothing came, he continued. 

“I want to know everything about her. I want to hear all about her training sessions, her competitions, what she does in between competitions. I want to stay up late and just talk about anything and everything with her. This girl is unbelievably too good for me that I am so nervous that I’ll screw this up and scare her off. She already knows about my past and that’s obviously a hit against me, especially for a girl who already seems to have trust issues. She’s perfectly fine just being on her own and focusing on herself without needing anyone else, so it’s not like she even remotely needs me or someone like me in her life so I feel like I have to work even harder to prove to her that it could be worth it. That I could be worth it. She’s not just a girl. She’s the girl.”

The room fell silent for what felt like an eternity to Auston. No one said anything, but he watched tentatively as Mitch and Morgan sat stunned, seemingly mulling over his words. Finally, Mitch spoke up. 

“Holy shit. You’re falling for her.”

Auston nodded slowly. 

“You are so fucked.”

_

At 5:25pm, Auston knocked on Savannah’s apartment door. He had finally decided on skinny black jeans, a burgundy pocket tee, and a black bomber jacket. He felt a little better after opening up to Mitch and Morgan, and they were surprisingly supportive without joking, but now that he was at her door, the nerves came flooding back. He could only hope that he didn’t throw up on her when she opened the door. He knocked again, then stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels as he waited. When she opened the door, he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. 

She was wearing dark wash skinny jeans, a soft off-the-shoulder hunter green sweater that brought out her eyes perfectly, brown booties, with her hair pulled up in a neat ponytail to show off her toned shoulders - she looked stunning. 

“You look incredible,” Auston spoke before he even realized the words tumbling out of his mouth. 

Savannah laughed lightly. He had clearly not meant to say anything, but it was so endearing the way he seemed to lose his sense of control around her. She had never had a guy look at her the way he looked at her. Like he was looking into her and trying to see all of the parts of herself that she held for only herself and few selected others. Savannah had never felt so truly seen before. 

This non-date was absolutely a terrible idea. She was so screwed and they hadn’t even stepped out of her building yet. 

“Thank you,” Savannah finally spoke, reaching over to grab her purse on the table next to her door. She stepped out in the hallway and locked her door, hoping that the few moments she was turned away from him would help her reset and find some ounce of composure. Turning back to him, she gave him a quick once-over, trying hard not to stare. “You look okay,” she bumped his hip playfully as they made their way to the elevator, barely causing him to alter his course of direction. 

“Watch it there, little one,” Auston chided as he bumped her back with a little more force. Savannah laughed as she lost her balance, trying to push the elevator button. They stepped into the elevator quietly, with neither one speaking until they got into Auston’s jeep. 

“How was your day today?” he asked as he pulled out of the complex. 

“It was good! I had practice this morning and started going over some free dance choreography to really tighten up the program. It’s definitely not finished, but I felt really great about it today. How about you?”

“We had practice this morning as well, but it definitely doesn’t sound as exciting as yours. We just did some of the usual drills and trying to work out some of the line combinations before the season opener.” Auston pulled up to his apartment complex. “Do you mind if we just park here and walk over? It’s only about a ten minute walk. The last time we went, we couldn’t get parking anywhere near the place.”

“Not at all! It’s really nice out. I’d like to enjoy this weather while it lasts.” Once Auston parked in his parking garage, they got out quickly and started walking up the street. 

“It’s crazy how energized this whole city seems for the season. Your faces are everywhere! I even caught a few of your interviews with Tavares.”

Auston groaned. He was always so awkward in those interviews and John was even worse. Savannah laughed knowingly. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen Connor’s video of you dancing, I know you have more personality than you let on,” she watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye. 

Auston winced and groaned even louder this time, which made Savannah just laugh harder. 

_

“I cannot believe we made it out in time! I thought for sure we screwed up by finding the last clue first.”

“Sav, that one was all you. I didn’t realize you were so good with word games and riddles! How did you even figure out that first clue?” Auston was really impressed with Savannah’s smarts in the room. She was analytical and thoughtful, and he was content to just watch her go through her thought process with each clue. He was proud that he was able to get some of the clues on his own, but mostly he was happy just to be with her. He couldn’t help but smile over at her as they made their way towards the exit. 

“Sometimes the obvious answer is the right answer. We were a good team though.” 

It turned out that they were the perfect pair to do an escape room together. They each had different strengths and could focus on different parts of the clues to reach the end just before time ran out. Savannah was impressed that Auston not only recognized and appreciated her strengths, but actually took a step back to listen to her when she was thinking a clue through out loud. He didn’t try to interrupt her or act like his way was the only way. 

“I grew up obsessed with any kind of puzzle, including word puzzles. I still do a crossword puzzle every day.”

“Every day? And you actually finish them?”

“I do! I have to, otherwise it drives me insane all day.”

“What got you into crosswords?”

Auston watched as a look he didn’t recognize crossed Savannah’s soft features before her performance face appeared, and he immediately felt like he had overstepped. He respected her performance face when she was in her element on the ice, but grew to hate it in these moments when it felt like she was shutting down and hiding a part of her away. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried. You don’t have to answer that.”

The performance face disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Savannah didn’t even realize when she did it most of the time; it was just a natural reaction now when someone she didn’t know very well tried to get a little too close for her liking. But there was something about Auston that made her want to share more of herself with him. It was scary to feel that way about someone. Her previous boyfriends could barely get passed one of her layers and she had always been fine with that. Until now, it seemed. She reached over and squeezed his arm briefly as they walked towards the exit. He really was so sweet. 

“No, it’s okay. I don’t talk about it often, so sometimes it catches me off guard when it comes up. My grandmother had Alzheimer’s. At first it was really mild, but eventually it got to the point where she didn’t even remember or recognize my mom. It was really hard to visit her. Brain games are supposed to help prevent it.”

“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine.”

"Thank you. Actually, if there was something positive that came from it, it was being able to witness true love firsthand. My grandparents were married for over 60 years, and even though near the end she didn’t always recognize my grandpa, he still visited her every day. When people would ask him why he visited every day, even though it was so emotionally draining for him on the days when she didn’t remember him, his answer was always the same: ‘She’s the love of my life. And she may not remember me, but I certainly remember her. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.’”

“Wow. That’s incredible.”

Savannah smiled softly, clearly swept up in the memory of her grandparents. “They were incredible.” Catching her eye, Auston gave her a quick wink and a soft smile. He was about to say something else, but noticed the sound of rain pounding on the roof of the building. It was pouring. They looked at each other helplessly. Finally, Savannah spoke. 

“What do we do now? Hide in a nearby cafe until it subsides?”

Auston looked out the doors and up at the sky. He instinctively moved closer to her when a clap of thunder rang out into the night. It didn’t look like it was going to subside any time soon. He had an idea that he hoped wouldn’t be overstepping.

“We could make a run for it? Go to my place, get dry, and order food?” Auston held out his hand for her to grab.

Savannah eyed his hand briefly. Thinking it over, she placed her hand in his and nodded at him. “Let’s do it!”

_

“I should have looked at the weather report. I’m so sorry!”

They stepped into his apartment, both dripping from head to toe. 

“It’s okay Auston, I’m not going to melt. I’m just a little wet.”

“Here, let me get you a towel and then you can change into some dry clothes,” Auston moved quickly into his apartment, pulling out two warm fluffy towels and walking one back to Savannah. He wrapped it around her shoulders and rubbed her arms, trying to warm her up. Even though it was an innocent action meant simply to give her shivering form some heat, the air in the room quickly became charged. Tentatively, Savannah raised her chin to meet his steely gaze. He stared back, wanting so badly to lean down just a little to touch his lips to hers, but he was brought out of his reverie when he watched those lips and her teeth chatter. “Wow, you’re really shivering. Do you want to have a hot shower first? I can put your clothes in the dryer for you.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” The moment now broken, Savannah couldn’t help but curse her chattering mouth for betraying her. She had wanted to close the distance between them and finally feel what it was like to kiss him. Even though she knew it was a bad idea, she couldn’t deny how much stronger and more frequently these urges were taking over all of her senses. 

She followed closely behind as he lead her into his apartment towards the bathroom. She had never been in his apartment before. It was nice and cozy, and while it clearly had been decorated by someone other than Auston, there were little touches here and there that made it feel like him. 

“My mom and sisters keep a bunch of shower stuff here in the cabinet, so feel free to use any of that. There should also be a hair dryer in there for you to use.”

Savannah couldn’t help but wonder how many other girls he gave the same speech to. How many other girls had been in this apartment, using his shower, wearing his clothes? Should it even bother her what that number might be? Steph had briefly made references to Auston’s past and while Savannah wasn’t one to judge, she couldn’t help but wonder where on the line she fell. Was she just another girl? And if she was, why should she care? It’s not like she could date him anyway. She had a promise to keep. She had gold medals to win. Eyes on the prize - a gold medal was more permanent than a guy who may or may not just be into her for one night. 

While Savannah took a shower, Auston quickly changed into dry sweats and ordered pizza, trying to distract himself from thinking about Savannah in his shower. He had actually never brought a girl back to his apartment before unless he was consistently seeing her, which only happened a couple of times, or if they were really just a friend. Usually he went to the girl’s place because it was easier to make a quick exit. But with Savannah, he didn’t need or want an exit. He wanted to keep her here for as long as she wanted to stay - which he hoped was a long time. He couldn’t help but notice how different he felt in her presence. He couldn’t help but want to be the best version of himself with her, whoever that guy might be. 

He was busy reading a few texts when he heard soft footsteps padding his way, breaking him out of his thoughts. When he turned, he was face to face with Savannah in nothing but a towel, her hair now dry. He hadn’t even heard her blowdrying her hair.

“Uhm, Auston?” Savannah waved one hand in front of his face. She used the other to hold up her towel, still shivering slightly. “Auston?”

Auston blinked quickly, shaking his head. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. 

“Do you have something I can wear?”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” he moved past Savannah, keeping his eyes straight ahead, trying not to look anywhere near her. “Here, I don’t think anything is really going to fit you, but these sweats have a drawstring at least. Do you want a hoodie or a tee?”

“Do you have a long-sleeved tee I could wear?”

“Here. I was just going to make some tea. The food should be here soon.”

“Perfect, thank you.” Savannah retreated quietly back to his bedroom to finish getting dressed. When she returned, Auston was paying the person at the door for the pizza. She noticed he had turned on Netflix and pulled a couple of plush blankets to the couch. 

“Here, sit. I thought you might want a blanket. I’ll bring you your tea once it’s ready. We could watch something while we eat?”

“Sure. Do you like Friends?”

“I love Friends! Good choice.” 

While Auston moved to the kitchen to pour their tea, Savannah moved slowly around his living room, taking in the decorations and pictures. She couldn’t help but notice none of his pictures were hockey related. She spotted his parents, two girls she assumed to be his sisters, what were likely his grandparents, and some of his friends. If any of them were hockey friends, the pictures had nothing to do with hockey, but just them hanging out. Now that she thought about it, she realized that the only hockey-related item in his apartment (the rooms that she had seen at least) was a gym bag near the front door and a Maple Leafs hoodie tossed on a chair. She made a mental note to ask about that later. 

Auston walked over to her with two steaming cups of tea and handed one to her. “Just milk, right?”

“How did you know that?”

“You’ve made tea so many times at Mitchy’s that it’d be impossible not to know how you take it. I even poured the milk in first, even though I think you’re wrong that it makes it taste better.”

“Hey! It’s how my Scottish grandpa used to make his and he was never wrong about anything!”

Auston raised his hands in mock surrender. “I promise to never question the decisions of your Scottish grandpa ever again.” 

“Good!” Savannah nodded sharply, in mock seriousness. 

Auston couldn’t help but laugh at how cute she was when she wanted to make a point. He motioned to the couch and they both settled onto opposite ends. He put a couple of slices of pizza on two plates for them and watched as she snuggled up under the blankets, seeking warmth. She was swimming in his clothes, but she looked so content and warm that he felt a little guilty at how happy the rain made him. She was here, in his home, looking perfectly in place. Like she belonged here. 

After finishing off the pizza, they were onto their third episode of Friends and had already had two spirited debates about what the best episodes of the series were (Savannah a staunch “The One With the Prom Video” supporter - “He’s her LOBSTER, Auston!” - and Auston an equally avid supporter of “The One Where No One’s Ready” - “Could I BE wearing anymore clothes?”) when Savannah turned to Auston. She realized that because she had been so focused on protecting her heart and keeping her distance these past few weeks, she really didn’t know much about Auston other than what she had learned that first night on the beach. 

“Let’s play a game.”

Auston turned away from the TV to look at her confused. “A game?”

“Yes, you do know what that word means, don’t you?” she smiled teasingly, laughing as he threw a pillow at her head. 

“Yeah smartass, I know what that word means. I just meant what game?”

“21 questions? I feel like I don’t know that much about you.”

“Okay, but what are your rules? Everyone plays differently.”

Savannah thought about it. She wanted to know about him, and knew it was only fair that he could ask her questions too. But how personal did they want to get?

“Okay, rule #1: You can’t ask a question that you wouldn’t be willing to answer yourself.” 

Auston nodded slowly. That seemed fair. 

“Number 2?”

“Rule #2: You can say pass if you’re not comfortable answering a question.”

“Can I make an amendment? You can say pass, or you can say that it’s a question that can be asked again at a later date.”

“Why?”

“Because even if we’re not comfortable answering it now, maybe it’s something we can work towards the better we get to know each other?”

Savannah mulled it over. What were the chances of his memory being so good that he’d bring it up again?

“Deal. And rule #3: You can only tell the truth.”

Auston turned away from the TV to fully face Savannah. The light from the TV and the occasional lightning brightening up the room every once in a while. 

“It’s your game, so you can ask a question first.”

Savannah took a moment to think about a question. There was one that had been weighing on her mind since she first heard about it, and now seemed like the perfect time to clear the air. 

“Okay, here it goes. I’ve heard little references here and there about your ‘past’ with women. Care to tell your side of the story?”

Auston coughed, sputtering the water he had just taken a sip of all over himself. 

This was going to be an interesting night. 

[sugarsnap-caely]

Ego Origins: The Magician

So, I guess the best place to start is where I was born: In a hospital.

Alright, fine, I was born in the small town of Glenoe, County Antrim, Ireland.

Yep, you've probably never heard of it. I get that a lot.

Anyhow, I was born to two great parents. Their names are Connor Hayes and Olivia Baird.

I grew up in a small house. It was one of those sort of old houses, you know the ones, the kinds with secrets.

When I was younger I was a bit of a troublemaker. Oh, boy I loved pulling pranks on people…Like that time I glued my friend’s hands to their desk.

I of course got into huge trouble for it, but he was ok with it. We laughed so hard.

I wasn’t just a trouble maker though —Contrary to popular belief, I am a well rounded individual — I was also a very curious boyo.

I always had a fascination with the mystical and supernatural, my parents always telling me of legends and mysterious creatures.

I remember reading over Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings so much! Still some of my favorite series ever.

Other than reading, I remember when a local magician performed tricks at school. I wouldn’t shut up about it the rest of the day.

When I got home, I practically begged my parents to get me a magic kit.

Then, the day I finally got one…

Biggest disappointment of my life.

Ok, not really. I read through that thing to pieces, learning every trick I could. But it just wasn’t enough…I wanted magic, real magic. Like the kind in my books and the legends my parents told.

I remember asking the librarian for books on magic but I wanted to learn magic.

But anyway, being the curious little shit I was, I loved going around that old house of ours and looking for new things.

Then I found it, a secret door. You know, kind of like the one from Coraline. Only less deadly.

When I went inside my life changed.

There were just so many things, shelves full of magic books. Real ones! Leather bound! Dust and all!

There were so many mysterious ingredients for potions. It was absolutely astounding!

But the best thing was…there were all these old scrolls. They were lessons…from a school.

I was the happiest boy in the world right then and there.

Every time I could I would head down to that little room and read, learning lesson after lesson.

The day I first learned how to levitate something was one of the proudest moments of my life. After that I would lift things into the air whenever people’s backs were turned. My pranks got so much better after that…

I learned so much from those old scrolls and books. I even learned about mythical creatures.

Not to brag or anything but I even caught a fairy once.

I uhh, let it go though. I couldn’t help it, it looked so sad.

Anyway, as the years went by I continued to train my magical abilities.

I still went to college though. Mostly business I guess.

I packed everything up from that old room.

In fact it's all in my current room.

Still have a lot to learn.

But back to the past, I learned a bit in illusion and slight of hand as I went through college. I was hoping to actually become a magician, just like the kind I loved. Only this time, I was using real magic.

Yes, I'm aware how corny I sound. I'm a magician, it's kind of our thing sometimes.

I still learned the lessons in the scrolls as well. The next one was one that would also change my life.

The lesson mentioned enchanted objects. I knew these existed, but I’d never had a lesson on them before.

The lesson was about how to detect them, all the different kinds and what to do. It even had references to other books.

For weeks I practiced, going around to different shops and old towns and locations whenever I got the chance.

One fateful, rainy, cliche day, I found it.

Marvin looked at the quaint little shop with hopeful wonder, all the other places he tried had not been very successful, but there was something special about this place.

Of course that could have been his stomach talking. He really needed lunch.

He read the sign, “Oddities and Endidies”

Short, check; made up word, check; rhyming, check; pun, check.

Yep, definitely a magic store.

He pushed open the door, listening to the bell tinkle as he stepped inside.

‘Sheesh, how many cliches are in this store?’ He thought, rolling his eyes. ‘Well, can’t judge a book by its cover.’

He stepped up to a shelf, seeing the books, leather bound and all. He took one off the shelf and flipped through it. As he put it back on the shelf, he saw a table covered in illusion kits, and couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Need any help, dear?” The old woman at the counter asked.

“No, no, I’m good, but thank you.”

“Well I’ll be here all day if you need me.” She chuckled, going back to her book.

He continued about his way, going to different shelves, feeling. Then, it happened.

He felt a sort of pull that drew him to a corner of the shop. Along the wall we're all sorts of accessories: capes, hats, wands, brooms, masks.

His gaze was drawn however to a mask. He raised an eyebrow, confused.

It wasn't the mask though that was confusing. It was the fact it was inside a cage.

The cage itself was large big enough to hold a small animal. He peered through the bars to get a better look.

The mask was a milky white color in the shape of a cat’s face. The ears were colored a sort of limey, neon green. The nose was a brilliant red color and it had two lines under each of the eye holes of the same color. On its forehead were the four card suits in a diamond pattern.

This was it. The object he had been searching for.

He tried to open the door of the cage and found it locked. Shrugging, he grabbed onto the handle and picked up the cage. He carried it over to the counter, setting it down with a small clatter.

“I hope you found what you were looking for.” The woman said, putting her book down.

“Definitely. I would like to buy this mask.”

“Don't worry, no need to pay. It's usually not for sale.”

“Then why are you letting me have it?”

“Special occasion.” She smiled.

“Thanks!”

“Now, you'll have to keep it in the cage.”

He nodded, picking up the cage. “When can I take it out?”

“When you're home and ready. It's different, much like you and I are.” She winked at him and he swore he felt a change in the atmosphere.

He took the cage and walked towards the door.

“Oh, hold on!” She said, making him turn around. “I almost forgot.”

A key appeared in his hand, remnants of purple light fading away from the metal. He looked up and smiled. ‘I knew it…’

“Enjoy your mask and keep practicing. My shop is open anytime.” With that, she picked up her book and he walked out of the store and toward home.

He set the cage on the table and sat down, staring at it, wondering what kind of enchanted object it was. Perhaps he could channel magic through it, or it could perform a certain spell. He honestly wasn't sure, and was eager to try.

But first he had to settle the problem of his stomach. He stood up from his chair and headed to the fridge. He opened it up and found…nothing.

He groaned. He forgot to go to the store again. He was about to head for the door when he saw the cage out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't chance if something happened.

He sat down at the table with a bunch of snacks in hand. The question was, what to do first? He bit into a cracker, thinking.

“Well,” He swallowed, “best place to start is channeling, I guess.”

He brushed the crumbs off his fingers and stretched out his arms.

He put his hands out, palms towards the mask and pushed his energy forward.

It bounced back, startling him.

Well, that option was out.

He ate another cracker as he tried another method.

Again, nothing.

He huffed, resting his chin in his hand. “Maybe I’ve forgotten a method.” He walked into his work room, opening up a cabinet and pulling out the scroll. He stepped back into the room and set the scroll down next to the cage.

He went to pick up a cracker and saw there were some missing.

“Guess I ate more than I thought.”

He read through the scroll, trying another method.

When that didn’t work he put his head on the table, groaning. Nothing was working.

He sighed, “No, no. It’s not all there is.”

“I need tea.”

He poured water into his kettle and turned the stove on.

When he came back to the table he stopped.

There were cracker crumbs inside the cage.

He gaped for a moment, realizing what was going on. He was about to go up to the cage and touch the mask when he got an idea.

He put a clip on the bag of crackers and turned back to the cabinet, pulling out his mug. He pulled out the box of tea bags, choosing one and putting the box back into the cabinet.

There was the sound of crinkling and he jumped around, pointing at the cage, “Ah ha!!”

The floating cracker fell to the ground, the green aura that was around it moments before disappearing.

Marvin’s eyes were locked with those of a cat. It had the same markings as the mask, including a green tip at its tail.

He stepped closer to the cage, “So you’re a Shifter, huh? Can you understand me?”

The cat sat down and looked at him.

“Okay, you cannot speak. Uhh…blink once for yes and twice for no, unless you prefer to nod.”

The cat blinked.

“Cool! You can understand me,” He edged closer to the cage and reached out to touch it.

Immediately, the cat arched its back and hissed.

“Woah, woah!” Marvin flinched back, putting his hands out in front of him. “Sheesh, you’re real friendly.”

The cat settled down, still eyeing him warily.

Marvin hummed, putting a hand to his chin. “How to earn your trust…”

His gaze landed on the crackers before going back to the cat.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

The cat seemed to hesitate before blinking.

“Tell you what,” Marvin said, setting his elbows on the chair, “If I get us some lunch can we try to get along?”

The cat blinked.

Marvin beamed, “Alright!”

He headed out the door, giving the cat a wave.

He sat at the table eating a sandwich and watching the cat, still in the cage, eat it’s kibble.

“So…” he started, taking a bite, “you’re magic, huh?”

The feline glanced up at him, blinking.

“What sort of things can you do?”

The markings on the cat glowed and the package of (now closed) crackers lifted off the table.

“Ok, wise guy, I already knew that. What else can you do?”

The symbols glowed again before the cat started to fade.

“Cool! You can turn invisible! Makes sense being a cat.”

The cat revealed itself, its chest puffed out in a prideful manner.

Marvin chuckled, “You got spunk, cat.”

The cat rolled its eyes and went back to eating.

“You know, I don’t think you like being in that cage too much, do you.” He said, fiddling with the key in his pocket. He pulled it out, “Now, we’re on good terms right? Don’t go making a mess of my place, alright?”

The cat blinked as he unlocked the cage door. Gingerly, the cat stepped out and sat in front of the magician.

“Nice! Thanks, cat.” He moved to stroke the cat behind its ears.

The cat drew back for a moment before accepting the hand.

“You know, knowing you’re sentient and all I feel like I need to give you a name. That is unless you have one already.”

He was met with two blinks.

“Right, so are you a male or a female? Wait, do cats have gender identities? Or enchanted masks for that matter…”

His rambling was halted by a paw on his chest, “What?”

The cat put more pressure on his chest.

“I don’t follow.”

The cat rolled its eyes and tucked the paw close to its body before putting it back on Marvin’s chest.

Marvin bit his lip, thinking, “Are you saying you’re a boy?”

The cat put his paw down and blinked.

“Cool! But we’re going to have to work on our communication skills.”

“Now,” He sat down at the table, “You need a name.” He stared at the white feline for a while, looking at the markings on his body. His eyes landed upon the distinctive card symbols on his head. “How about Pips?”

His ears perked up, and his tail flicked gently from side to side before he blinked.

“Great! Pips it is then! It will be good to have some company around. We could learn magic together!” Marvin cleared the table, excitement coursing through his veins.

Pips hopped off the table, deciding to look around the apartment.

“I’m glad the place lets you keep pets. Not that you’re a pet. You’re more of a companion!” He finished putting the dishes in the sink and followed Pips.

“You can be part of my magic routine! And the mask will make for a nice accessory!”

He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! That could be one of our acts!”

Pips turned around to look at him.

“I mean you, turning into the mask and vice versa. Sound like a plan?”

His tail waved softly and he almost seemed to smile as he blinked.

“Nice! I think you and I are gonna make a savage team!”

Oh boy did we ever. When I started my shows, you know small of course, some people liked us, some didn't. But we never gave up. We managed to find diners and small stages, talent shows, parties, even just on the street.

Slowly, ever so slowly we became relatively well known in our part of Ireland. Eventually though, we began doing bigger things. We even booked a show in England once! How cool is that!

Oh yeah, and I met Jack there too.

“So, where to next?” Jack asked Signe as they walked down the street.

“Well, I wanted to go to Spider Plant and look around.”

“Awesome! Sounds like a plan.”

The two continued their walk down to 3 Gardner Street, spotting the shop up ahead. As they came closer Jack looked over at a window covered in posters.

There was a school fundraiser, a missing dog poster (aww…he hoped they were found soon), a magician coming to town, a church meeting, a–Wait.

He stopped just as he passed the window, and did a double take.

“Sean?” Signed had stopped, noticing his confusion.

“Uhh…you go on without me. I'll catch up. Something caught my eye.”

“Alright,” she replied, continuing.

He rushed back over to the poster, reading the one about the magician. Sure enough, he saw a picture of himself both with and without a mask.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number.

“Hello?” The person on the other end asked.

“Henrik, it’s me, Jack.”

“Ahh! My friend how are you doing?”

“I'm not sure at the moment but we've got a situation on our hands.”

“Vhat?! Are you hurt? Do you feel ill? I vill come down zere right-”

He put a hand to his head, “No, it's not that. You're not gonna believe this but there's another.”

“Anozer vhat?”

“Me. I think he's coming to Brighton.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, “Vhen vill he be here?”

“Uhh…” he searched the poster for a date, “Oh! Next weekend at 17:00.”

“Yes, I can be zere I sink. Zis is very veird…”

“Tell me about it. I’ll see you there.” He hung up the phone and plugged the date and time into his calendar.

He walked up to the store and stepped inside. He found Wiish looking at a tiny, potted tree.

“So, what was it?”

“Nothing much, just a show. It looked interesting so I'm gonna go see with a friend next weekend.”

“Sounds fun! What is it?”

“Just a magician.”

“Cool! I think I'm gonna buy this plant and then we can head home.”

Next weekend rolled around and Jack and Henrik sat in a small crowd, preferably away from most people so as not to be noticed.

“So,” Henrik whispered, “Vhat vas zee plan again?”

“To talk to him after the show. Maybe get some answers, I don't know.”

“Vhy vould he know? I most certainly did not and I am a medical doctah.”

“I’m not sure. He is a magician, maybe he knows something.”

The German scoffed, “In sleight of hand perhaps.”

Jack shrugged, “It's worth a shot.”

Suddenly the lights dimmed and a voice came over the speakers that sounded familiar to them.

“Ladies and gentlemen…boys and girls, prepare yourselves for amazement for which the likes you have never seen. Get ready for…” there was a puff of green smoke and a man with a white cat mask, appeared on stage, “Marvin the Magnificent!”

The small audience applauded and the show began.

The two of them continued to sit, having a conversation until everyone in the audience had gone. Then, they got up and headed over to the stage, and followed it to the back.

They heard a voice, Marvin’s, from behind a door, “We did a deadly job tonight, Pips! We both deserve an extra treat. What do you say?” There was a meow.

They looked at each other and Jack knocked on the door.

“What the? Who’s there?” The voice was wary.

“We…we uhh…” Jack cleared his throat, “We just want to talk to you.”

There was a long period of silence, and Jack and Henrik contemplated leaving before the door opened.

“Alright what wa-” The magician stopped and gaped.

Now that he was closer Jack could see him better. The magician of course had his face, which was still bizarre, but he also seemed to have longer hair, keeping it up in a ponytail.

“Oh shit,” the magician put a hand to his head, “that cloning spell really did work. Okay uhhh…” He started making small, nervous movements on the spot, “no one panic.”

“Cloning spell?” Jack looked at Henrik.

The doctor leaned over, “I sink he’s crazy.”

“Hey.” The magician pointed at them, “I am not crazy. I really did use a magic spell.”

“Zere is no such sing as magic.”

The double stepped back, snickering, “You sound like Vernon Dursley.”

“Who?”

“Oh my god, you’re kidding me. How do you not know Harry Potter?!”

“Oh, zose books. Vell, I apologize if I don’t know every detail of lore considering I have not read zee books.”

“Guys!” Jack put up his hands trying to stop their squabbling. “This is not getting us any answers.” He turned back to the magician, “We’re not clones. Both of us have been born and lived lives.”

“So if you’re not clones…then…” He put his hand to his chin, “who are you?”

Jack held out his hand, “I’m Sean. Most call me Jack though.”

The magician shook his hand, “I’m Marvin.”

“No, really?” Henrik replied sarcastically. “My name is Dr. Henrik Von Schneeplestein.”

“Oh cool, you’re a doctor.” Marvin shook his hand as well, “I’m not much for science personally but it is important.”

There was a long meow from behind them.

“Oh, you have a cat?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, his name is Pips. Want to pet him?” Marvin stepped back into his room, gesturing to the milk-white cat.

Jack put up a hand, “No thanks, I’m allergic.”

“Oh, he’s not like normal cats.”

“Vhat, is he magic?” Henrik mocked.

“You know…” Marvin put his hands on his hips, “I have the right mind to put you in your place.”

“Try me.”

Marvin frowned and put his hands up, closing his eyes.

Henrik crossed his arms and stood there. Nothing was going to happen.

Jack gasped, “Holy fuck.”

“Vhat?” The doctor opened his eyes. “Agh!” He found himself suspended in midair. “Get me down!”

“Not until you apologize.”

Henrik found himself nearly somersaulting, “Alright, alright! I am sorry! I did not know!”

Gently, the doctor was put back on the ground. Once his feet were stable he put a hand to his chest to steady his breathing. “I guess…magic is real.”

Marvin nodded, satisfied.

“So,” Jack began, “Since you seem to be knowledgeable in strange circumstances, do you have an explanation?”

Marvin rolled his shoulders, “Not at the moment, but I do have tons of books and scrolls. Maybe one of them has the answer.”

“Sounds good.”

“So…what did you think of the show?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. You’re really good. It’s even cooler knowing you use real magic.”

“Oh, I don’t use magic for the whole show. Not only would it wear me out, but I still like to do things traditionally. Plus, Pips here helps out.” He said, petting the cat’s head.

“Zat’s pretty neat.” Henrik added having caught his breath.

“Yeah.” He put one last thing into his bag, “Well, I should probably get going. I am hungry and I have another show booked in a town nearby tomorrow, so I gotta get some sleep.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, we should probably get going too; although,” he took out his phone, handing it to Marvin, “would it be okay if we get your number? This whole thing is strange and perhaps it's good to let eachother know when anything happens.”

Marvin took the phone, plugging in his number and doing the same for himself and Henrik. “Sure thing. I'll let you know if I find any answers in my books or if anything odd happens.”

“Perfect.” Jack smiled, pocketing his phone.

Marvin gestured to Pips and he turned back into his mask (of course leaving both Jack and Henrik in awe) before packing it in the bag. He picked it up and stepped out of the room, “I’d love to get to know you two more so maybe we can all hang out when we get the chance.”

“Zat does not sound like such a bad idea to me,” Henrik said hesitantly.

They all shook hands one last time before deciding to head back to their homes, all of them anticipating what could be next.

Hello there everyone! I hope you enjoyed the second installment in my Ego Origins series. As you can see, with my writing I’ve added a few little quirks of my own. For instance, while I am highly aware of the idea of Marvin turning into a cat (Love that idea by the way) I always wondered what it would be like for Marvin to have a pet and I thought it would be a cool idea if his mask could turn into a cat! 

I really liked this one because I had a lot more creative liberty to work with when writing his back story. I mean, who doesn’t love magic?! I can tell that I will have a blast writing this series and I hope to actually have JJ’s out before Halloween. But due to dwindling time constraints I may have to post JJ’s story out of order, and post the others later. If I do this just know that JJ’s story should be the last/second to last (can’t decide yet) in the series.

Either way, let me know if you enjoyed it as always! ^^

1:The Doctor

5: The Mute

[adventuresingalwayblog-blog]

Galway City Museum

Last week, one of my classes took a field trip to the Galway City Museum. It was a rather cold morning, but we met at the Spanish Arch. My roommate and I have been spending the last few weeks wondering where the Spanish Arch was, because we always see signs for it, but have never been quite sure where it was. 

We’d been passing it literally everyday. 

We had both been expecting a grand big thing, I know I was expecting metal. I guess I was kind of expecting a much smaller version of the Gateway Arch. The Spanish Arch is neither grand, big, or metal. 

It is a large stone wall with an arch on it near the docks. The wall was built in 1584, with the arch allowing access to the rest of the city.

Despite the cold morning, it was a great day for pictures. 

The buildings off to the right there are part of the Claddagh, like the ring. It used to be a fishing village, and it used to be much more isolated from the city. Going through the Claddagh you’ll also see the famous Salthill Prom, like in the song. 

The buildings are more of the Claddagh. You can see the stairs there that go into the water - our tour guide told us about them. They’re referred to as “The Devil’s Steps.” Legend has it that if you go down the steps, the devil will grab you by the ankles and pull you into the water to possess your soul forever. It’s more likely that people would slip on the steps and drown at high tide, but I think I like the devil story better. I wish I could have gotten at better picture, but unfortunately there were large bags of dirt creating a small wall, indicating that we probably shouldn’t go over there. I’m guessing it’s because of a big flood that happened a few weeks ago. 

Once we got into the museum, we first met Mr. Pádraic Ó Conaire (pronounced Pawric O Connor-ah). He’s famous for writing almost entirely in the Irish language. He was born in Galway, and then orphaned at age 11 when he moved to Connemara to live with his uncle. In 1899, he emigrated to London, where he became involved with the Gaelic Revival, which pushed for a return of the Irish Gaelic language. In 1914 he moved back to Galway, where he made a very poor living off of writing and teaching language at Gaeltacht summer schools. If I remember correctly, our tour guide said he walked just about every where. He died in 1928 at the age of 46. 

After his death, he was buried in a pauper’s grave, and his friends wanted to gather enough money for a headstone. Instead, they got enough money to build a statue. 

The statue reflect Pádraic just as he was in life: writing, in an ill fitting suit and with his hat on back to front and high on his head. The statue was in Eyre Square from 1935-2004. In 1999, the statue was decapitated by tourists. It was really common for tourists to climb on and take pictures with the statue, resulting in all the damage that you can see, so if they had reported the decapitation and said it was an accident, perhaps they wouldn’t have gotten in trouble. But instead, they tried to steal the head and were caught. Fortunately, it was able to be repaired, though it cost 50,000 pounds - hence the move into the Museum. Recently, a new bronze statue was unveiled in Eyre Square as well. 

The museum has lots of relics of old Galway, including a reliquary containing what is to believed to be the skull of St. Ursula. 

As we continued through the museum, we learned a lot of the legends surrounding Galway and the Claddagh. The Claddagh was a fishing village at one point, so many of the myths surround luck for fishing and sailing. We learned that it was bad luck to be the third boat out, so after the King (yes, the Claddagh had a king) they would send out two boats together, so that the next boat to go out would be the fourth boat rather than the third. It was also unlucky to see a girl with red hair - or anything with red hair, except a man (think foxes and hares). It was so unlucky that if the men were going down to the docks to begin the day and they saw a girl with red hair or a red fox, hare, or rabbit, they’d turn around. The butchers would take advantage of this superstition on Fridays and tie a fox to the dock to prevent the fishermen from going out so that the butcher could sell more of his own meats. He would do this on Fridays because obviously, the men didn’t fish on Sundays, but they also didn’t fish on Saturdays to avoid getting stuck at sea overnight and being on the water on Sunday. 

We also learned that the swans that I’ve mentioned are rumored to be the souls of the dead coming home. Apparently, that’s a rather prominent myth around the world. Unfortunately, the swans in Galway have lessened in number because they’ve begun moving up the River Corrib towards Loch Corrib. This is due to efforts to clean up the Galway Bay area - a lot of the algae that the swans feed on has disappeared, so they’re moving up the river where there is more food. 

I definitely want to go back and explore the Galway Museum more, especially the rooms dealing with Galway’s role in the rebellions and civil war, which was talked about on the tour but I don’t have a good enough record in my notes to accurately write down what I learned, and I don’t want to get any facts wrong. But I did snag a cool picture of an old flag that is shown in illustrations of Galway at the time:

At the end of the tour, we had a wonderful view of the Claddagh, the city, and the bay area. 

sorry for the reflections in the window

[thecoliverlibrary]

Truth or Dare

Gift Type: Fan Fiction Title: Truth or Dare Author: @ramblesandreblogs Recipient: @tonystarkjpg Rating: Teen Warnings: References to Underage Drinking (is that a warning? it’s late. i’m sorry. all these parenthesis are stupid) Word Count: 5.4k Summary: Certain truths about Connor and Oliver come to light during a New Year’s Eve game of Truth or Dare. Author’s Note: Hi Nive! You requested a high school AU and I tried my best! :) Hope you enjoy it. Happy Holidays and Happy New Year to all!! xoxo

~~~

“I can’t believe you are making me do this.”

Laurel rolled her eyes as she and Oliver made their way down the sidewalk. “Come on, Oliver. Don’t be like that. It’s gonna be fun.”

He glared at her and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You and I have very different definitions of fun.”

She smiled beautifully at him and tucked a hand around his arm. “We do,” she agreed. “I think things like New Year’s Eve parties are fun—”

“Torture.”

“And you think things like staying home and ringing in the New Year working on college applications is fun.”

“A productive use of a night off.”

Laurel laughed and the sound echoed in the still night, bouncing off snow covered roofs and sparkling holiday lights. “God. I love you.” She squeezed his arm close and tilted her head on his shoulder. “‘Productive use of a night off.’”

Oliver bristled a that. “What?” What was the matter with that?

What was the matter with spending a night in to get ahead on his applications? His mom was out with her boyfriend (presumably doing things Oliver didn’t want to think about) and his dad was spending the holiday skiing with his new family in Colorado. Instead of feeling bummed about the idea of spending New Year’s Eve alone, Oliver had been a little excited about having the condo to himself for a few hours. Ordering in whatever food he wanted (regardless of Jeremy’s newfound veganism), working on polishing up his application essays, and maybe catching up on Netflix. The whole evening had sounded perfect until Laurel had begun relentlessly messaging him and dragged him out of his warm nest of solitude.

“Those application dates are going be here faster than you know,” he reminded her.

“I know.” Laurel rolled her eyes again but with affection this time. “But they aren’t tomorrow.”

Oliver let her lead him up the driveway and down the walk until they were almost there, Michaela Pratt’s front door.

“She didn’t invite me,” he whispered to Laurel, fast and a touch frantic. They were almost at the front door; his window of bailing was getting smaller and smaller.

“Who? Michaela?” Laurel stopped and turned, blinking at him with wide eyes. “Yes she did.” And she had. Laurel had been standing at Oliver’s side at the time, witness to the whole thing.

Oliver shook his head. “No. She—” He thought back onto that scene just a few days ago.

It had been the last day of school before break and they’d been at their lockers. Laurel was hanging back, waiting for him finish collecting his stuff before she drove them both home, when Michaela approached. The Homecoming Queen had been radiant as she told Laurel that her parents had decided at the last minute to visit an aunt for New Year’s and how she was going to have the house to herself.

“It’s gonna be small,” Michaela had explained to Laurel. “Just a couple of us on New Year’s. Connor and Wes. Maybe Asher. I’m thinking Sarah and Nat but then I’d have to invite Chelsea and I don’t know if I want to get into all that and—Oh!” Michaela had spotted Oliver lingering a few feet away. “You too, of course!” she had said with a smile.

“She did it just to be polite,” Oliver said to Laurel now as they were paused in front of Michaela’s house. “She didn’t really mean it. It was just not to be rude.”

Laurel snorted. “You really don’t know Michaela at all, do you?”

“Laur—”

“Michaela doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to,” she told him. “If she didn’t want you here, she would have ignored you. Believe me. I’ve seen it before.”

That didn’t make Oliver feel any better. He tugged at his sleeves, refusing to touch his hair. He’d actually spent time on it, okay? He didn’t need to walk in with it looking mussed. “It’s just—”

She put a hand on his arm. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be there.”

But Laurel was able to move in this circle and Oliver would never be able to fully explain to her that he just couldn’t. She had the uncanny ability to jump social strata, move from clique to clique without a second thought and he just didn’t. He didn’t belong here. He wasn’t built for spending New Year’s Eve at the home of the Homecoming Queen and her friends. He’d make a fool out of himself. A total fool. This group starred in the musicals and were on the starting line of the football team and ran the school paper and all already had full rides to the Ivy League. Oliver was a second-tier nerd who ran the tech booth during plays and never set a toe out of line.

He opened his mouth to tell all this to Laurel but she beat him to it.

“You’ll be fine. We’re going in.” Tugging on his arm, she rang the bell. “Just try to loosen up a little,” she said. “Just…Have some fun. What’s the worst that could happen?”

~~~

He was going to kill her.

“You did what?”

Michaela’s smile was a picture of innocence. “I invited Oliver Hampton,” she repeated. “Why? Is that a problem?”

Connor’s eyes narrowed as Michaela kept smiling. He was going to kill her. And he was going to enjoy it.

He’d known confessing his stupid crush had been a mistake. He’d known letting her in on the secret was dangerous. She’d just caught him during a moment of weakness is all.

Connor’d been distracted all those weeks ago as they walked to class. Oliver had been a few feet ahead of them — navigating the crowded halls on his own way to the next class — and Connor just hadn’t been able to look away.

“Connor?”

He’d hummed in answer to Michaela, too caught up in his own ridiculous fantasy to properly acknowledge her.

“God,” she had huffed. “What’s so fascinating?”

“Oliver’s ass,” Connor had answered absently, still not looking away from the beauty before him. Then his mind caught up to his mouth. “Oh fuck!” When he’d turned to look at her, Michaela’s eyes were wide and dancing with glee. “You didn’t—”

“I did!” The hand on his arm had been immediate, the grip fierce. “You have to tell me everything!”

“Mic—”

“Everything!!”

And so Connor had, reluctantly at first but quickly losing the hesitation when he realized how good it felt to actually talk about it with someone. Putting the feelings he’d been harboring for…Christ, for months now into words had been freeing.

But freedom came with price and apparently tonight was the night Connor paid up.

“I can’t believe you did this,” he said to Michaela. Then, turning to Wes. “Can you believe she did this?”

“What? Inviting Oliver?” Wes asked without looking up from his phone. “What’s the big deal? Oliver’s cool. He’s coming with Laurel, right?”

Michaela’s smile was indulgent. She had a soft spot for those two but knew they’d get there eventually. “She’ll be here. Don’t you worry.”

Wes shot Michaela a pointed look. “I’m not worried.” He turned back to his phone. “Besides, thought you’d be happy Oliver’s coming,” he said to Connor.

“I’m not unhappy,” Connor was quick to say. “It’s just—I’m—Why should I be happy?”

That made Wes glance up. “Well, you like the guy, right?”

Connor’s eyes found Michaela’s instantly. She told—She told Wes! Connor’d told her that in confidence. He couldn’t believe— “You told him!”

She held her hands up. “I didn’t. Connor, I swear I didn’t.”

“I can’t believe this, Mic. You—”

“She didn’t tell me,” Wes said.

“Then who did?” Connor demanded.

“No one. I just…” He gave a shrug. “Just figured it out.”

“How?” Connor demanded, louder this time. “How did you figure it out?”

“How’d who figure what out?” a new voice asked from the entryway.

Three heads turned to see Asher enter. He tugged off his hat and tucked it into the sleeve of his jacket as Michaela rounded on him.

“I don’t know about you but guests normally use the bell here.”

Asher’s smile held a secret and it was all for here. “Aww, Michaela. I figured I’d moved beyond guest status.”

Micheala’s only answer was a telling blush and Connor made a note to interrogate her about that later.

“What are we talking about?” Asher asked, tossing his coat over the back of a chair. “Who’s figuring what out?”

Connor started to answer, “Nothing,” but Wes was quicker.

“I figured out Connor’s hung up on Oliver.”

Connor’s eyes widened and his heart nearly stopped. What the hell was Wes doing just blurting things out like that? What did—

“Oh. That,” Asher said dismissively. “What else is new?”

“Wha—” Connor couldn’t form words, couldn’t think.

“How did you—I didn’t even know!” Michaela nearly shouted. “How did you two know when I didn’t know?”

“Well, how’d you find out?” Wes asked.

“He told me,” she said, gesturing to Connor. “He told me everything, made me swear to keep it secret, and I didn’t tell a soul.” She said it casually but Connor knew it to be true. Michaela may be one of the school’s biggest gossips but she knew how to keep her mouth shut when it mattered. “I’m the best friend. I’m supposed to know these things first.”

“Well, you didn’t have bio with them,” Asher said. “I didn’t even know you could make heart eyes at someone during an enzyme lab but our boy Walsh here pulled it off.”

The comment made Connor pause. He and Oliver had shared a bio class freshman year, two years ago. He hadn’t liked Oliver then…had he?

“What about you?” Asher asked Wes.

“Orchestra,” he answered with a shudder. “Connor was third chair, Oliver was first, and I was the sucker stuck between them. Longest year of my life.”

Okay. Connor knew that was bullshit because he hadn’t been in orchestra in years. He’d dropped it during junior high because it hadn’t been fun anymore.

“Then, Oliver dropped it and things got worse,” Wes went on. “Had to suffer on for one more semester with this guy’s—” he pointed to Connor, “dark cloud hanging over my head before he dropped out too.”

Connor opened his mouth to explain to Wes that, No, he hadn’t dropped orchestra because Oliver dropped it too. He’d dropped it because he hadn’t enjoyed it anymore. It’d had nothing to do with Oliver…or had it?

“Awww.” Asher slapped Connor on the shoulder. “You miss your boo, Boo?”

“Fuck you.” Connor slapped his hand away.

Fuck all of them actually. This was such crap. Wes and Asher were wrong. They…they were just wrong. He and Oliver had started to hang out a little more over the summer and his stupid little crush thing had just sort of appeared from that. He hadn’t been crushing on Oliver in fucking junior high. He hadn’t had some ridiculous crush on the guy for all these years. That was just ridiculous. No, they were ridiculous.

“You both are so full of shit,” Connor started. Then the doorbell pealed and the words died on his lips. He was here. Oliver was here. “I—”

“No one says anything.” Michaela pointed a finger at Wes and then Asher. Wes nodded immediately but Asher…

“I mean it,” she said, finger still locked on Asher. The words were whispered with such venom that Connor found himself swallowing reflexively even though they were clearly directed at Asher and Asher alone.

“Ash—” she began in warning.

“I got it,” he answered quickly, his voice breaking a little. He coughed to cover it but they all heard. “Not a word. I swear.”

She gave him one more warning glance. “Okay. Good.” Then, Michaela clapped her hands together once and headed for the door. “Let’s get this party started!”

~~~

Have some fun. What’s the worst that could happen?

Laurel’s voice echoed in Oliver’s head as he looked around the room.

The ‘small’ party Michaela had promised didn’t seem all that small to him. Dozens of people littered the couches and chairs of her parent’s living rooms (rooms! plural!) and even more spilled down into the basement.

Somewhere in the midst of them all, Oliver had lost Laurel. He’d turned to ask if she wanted a refill only to find her gone. It had only taken a moment to spot her again, her smile and laugh tended to catch the eye. She was standing next to Wes across the way and, looking at them, watching them smile at each other, Oliver hadn’t had the heart to walk over and burst their bubble.

So he’d set about the party on his own. He wasn’t a child that needed to cling to Laurel’s apron strings. He went to school with all these people; he spent at least a class with nearly all of them. He didn’t need her to make introductions or hold his hand. By some stroke of luck, he, Oliver Hampton, was at what was turning out to be a pretty great New Year’s Eve party and he was going to try and have some fun. 

What was the worst that could happen?

“Oliver!”

He automatically turned at his name and found his host waving him over.

“Come here,” Michaela called. “Come on.”

Dodging the drinks and gesturing hands of others, Oliver cut through the crowd to Michaela’s side. “Hey. Great party. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course! I’m so glad you came!” She said it with such enthusiasm that Oliver was pretty sure she was being sincere. Then, “Have you seen Laurel?”

Oliver gestured back at the kitchen where he’d seen her last. “She was with Wes.”

Michaela smiled but she didn’t move. “Figures.” Then, “We’re getting a game together.”

Something about the look in her eyes made the hair on the back of Oliver’s head stand on edge. “What kind of game?”

“A secret game,” she answered with a wink. “Come on. It’ll be fun.” She took his wrist and started tugging him along into the more formal living room.

“I don’t know, Michaela…”

“Don’t even worry about it.” She waved at the couch. “Just take a seat.”

Giving her one final, wary look, Oliver crossed the room to nab the last open seat on the couch, the seat right next to Connor Walsh. Trying not to draw attention to himself, Oliver settled in his seat and focused on breathing.

He hadn’t been fully honesty before, with himself or with Laurel. His reservations about coming tonight had nothing to do with the way Michaela had asked him or a general concern about the people who were going to be here. Oliver hadn’t been nervous about having fun or making conversation with others from school; yes he was a little shy but, under normal circumstances, he wasn’t completely inept. No, all of Oliver’s reasons for not wanting to come tonight were sharing a couch cushion with him.

Connor Walsh.

It wasn’t that Oliver didn’t like Connor, quite the opposite really. Oliver had been holding onto the most ridiculous crush on Connor for…well he wasn’t exactly sure when it had started but it’d been going on for too long now. It was embarrassing really.

Before realizing his feelings, Oliver’d always felt at ease with Connor in a way he didn’t with anyone else. It was like being around Connor somehow made Oliver forget that he was shy and a little nerdy and that he’d been told not to smile so big because it made his teeth look funny. Connor didn’t make Oliver feel as self-conscious as he normally did. Connor made him feel funny and fun and more like himself than he did with other people. That was it. Connor made Oliver feel like the best version of himself. It had been wonderful and freeing.

Then Oliver had gone and ruined it all be realizing he liked Connor.

Just like that it all went away. The easy communication and carefree friendship were gone overnight. All they were left with was awkward exchanges in the hall and stilted conversation the few times Laurel convinced Oliver to join her and the others at lunch.

It was horrible. And no matter how many pep-talks he gave himself or the countless times he played out conversations in his head, Oliver could never seem to find his tongue around Connor anymore.

It was horrible and humiliating and now they were stuck sitting next to each other at a New Year’s Eve party, waiting for Michaela Pratt to begin some mysterious game.

“She give you any hints?”

Connor’s voice in his ear nearly made Oliver jump and he turned. “What?”

The other man nodded at Michaela. “She give you anything?”

Oliver shook his head. “No. Why?” He risked a glance at Michaela. “Should we be worried or something?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Connor said ominously. “I—”

“Alright, everyone! Listen up.” Michaela’s voice silenced all chatter in the room. “I know you’re all wondering about tonight’s game, which is…” She said the words slowly, heightening the suspense until Asher broke the silence with, “Just tell us already, Mic!”

“…Truth or Dare.”

~~~

He was going to kill her.

He’d been lying when he thought it before, thinking dramatically and in hyperbole, but Connor wasn’t lying this time.

He was going to kill her and he was really going to enjoy it. Really really enjoy it.

He’d bet every cent in his bank account that she’d arranged this whole little thing to torture him. The party, the game, sitting Oliver down next to him, close enough that Connor kept catching whiffs of the man’s cologne when he turned his head, all of it had been arranged to torture him.

And — damn it all to hell — it was working.

Connor couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe. Every sinew of his body was attuned to Oliver. Oliver’s scent in his nose. The brush of Oliver’s skin when their arms touched. The way Oliver’s laugh shook his whole frame. The ghost of Oliver’s breath whispering over his cheek. Throw in a middle school party game and Connor Walsh was in the middle of his own personal hell.

The game itself was fun; the waiting for Michaela to drop the other shoe was not.

Sure. He’d laughed when Wes was dared to tickle Asher until the man couldn’t breathe. He winced when Katherine had been made to tell her most embarrassing story. He watched in awe and disgust when Laurel’d downed a shot of hot sauce like was water to fulfill her a dare.

Then, without cause or warning, she did it.

The game had swung around and it was her turn to pick a victim. “I pick…” She tapped a manicured finger against his chin and Connor held his breath. “Paxton!”

The way she said his name made Connor’s spine snap to attention. He’d been expecting Mic to pick him or Oliver but both of them were too obvious. Paxton though…

“Dare!” The man said with a wolfish grin.

“Dare, huh?” Michaela pretended to think for a beat then her eyes latched on Connor’s and she shot him an evil grin, a grin Connor was coming to despite. “Do a body shot off Oliver.”

For the briefest of moments, the room fell silent, then exploded into noise. Under all the shouting and hollering, Connor picked up the quietest voice.

“I—I’m not sure if—”

His eyes found Oliver’s and his gaze never wavered. “You don’t have to.” Connor didn’t dare blink or breathe. It was vital Oliver knew this. No one in this room would make him do anything he didn’t want to and, if they tried, Connor would deal with them.

“No. That’s not it,” Oliver said softly. He tugged at the hem of his shirt. “It…it’s just—”

Seeing his would-be-partner’s obvious hesitation, Paxton was quick to cut in. “Don’t worry, Ollie.” He crossed the room and took a seat on the edge of the couch, between Oliver and Connor. “I’ll be gentle.”

More than one person snorted and Pax threw a glare over his shoulder.

“How?” Connor demanded. He didn’t care if his tone was too harsh, too telling.

Pax’s answering smirk was knowing. Great. Yet another person who’d figured out his stupid crush. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

At that moment, Michaela reentered the room. Connor hadn’t noticed she left but she returned with a salt shaker, shot glasses, and tequila.

“We don’t have any limes,” she said apologetically to Pax as she poured him a shot.

“Pity.” He took the glass and smiled at Oliver. “We’ll just have to do without, won’t we.”

For his part, Oliver looked like he’d lost a bit the nervousness from moments ago. “I guess so,” he murmured quietly and accepted the shot glass from Pax.  

“You just hold that,” Pax said absently as he looked away to grab the salt shaker from Michaela’s outstretched hand. Turning back, he plastered on a smile Connor imagined Pax thought of as gentle before speaking directly to Oliver. “Now, I’m going to lick right along here.” He trailed a light fingertip down the side of Oliver’s neck and Connor was sitting close enough to small goosebumps rise up in wake of the touch. “Is that okay?”

Oliver licked his lips. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Pax leaned in and Oliver tilted his head to the side, allowing Pax access. Connor’s hands curled into fists as he watched Pax’s tongue lick Oliver’s neck until the damp spot shone in the light. Connor watched Pax’s lips ghost of Oliver’s skin. He watched that tongue press again, lingering and tasting, savoring just a touch. Connor couldn’t bring himself to look away; he watched it all.

“That’s good enough I think,” Pax said as he sat back. He lifted the salt shaker up and raised an eyebrow, silently asking Oliver if it was okay. When Oliver gave a small nod, he sprinkled some salt over the wet patch on Oliver’s neck. “Now, to get all that off you.”

He didn’t ask permission this time but Oliver was quick to tilt his head to the side again, freely offering, and Pax’s answering grin was wicked. As he leaned down, Pax shifted just a touch so he could catch Connor’s eye. The bastard had the audacity to wink at him just before his lips touched Oliver’s skin.

Again, Connor watched as Pax kissed Oliver’s neck. He watched the movement of the man’s tongue and lips. He watched and wanted until he couldn’t look anymore; he couldn’t watch Pax do what he himself wanted to do.

So Connor stopped looking at Pax and looked at Oliver instead, which was so much worse. He glanced up in time to see Oliver’s eyelids flutter once then close. He watched as Oliver’s face went slightly lax with pleasure, his lips falling open just a touch, his breath catching just a bit. Glancing down, Connor saw Oliver’s hands twitch, begin to lift before he caught himself and locked his fingers together, keeping the joined fist firmly in his lap. Oliver had almost reached out. He’d almost lifted his hands so he could tangle fingers in Pax’s hair. What would that feel like? Oliver’s skin under his lips, Oliver’s scent in his nose, and then Oliver’s hands in treading through his hair and holding him close.

The thought made Connor nearly growl. Paxton shouldn’t be the one with his lips on Oliver’s neck; Connor should. Connor should be the one with his lips drinking in Oliver’s skin. And he certainly wouldn’t do it like this, in a room full of people as part of a fucking game. They would be alone, him and Oliver in a room that was quiet and warm. The bed would be soft beneath them. No one would be looking for them. No one would interrupt. He would have time in that room, all the time in the world to kiss Oliver, hold him close, watch as Oliver’s whole being melted with pleasure. He wouldn’t linger so much on Oliver’s neck. It’s a great spot Connor’s sure but there are so many other places to explore. Like Oliver’s hands. Connor’s spent many a class watching Oliver’s hands hold a pencil or type on a keyboard or tap at his phone. He wonders what those hands feel like. Are they soft or rough? Are Oliver’s fingers calloused? What would Oliver’s palm feel like under his lips, against his cheek, palm-to-palm? He’d answer all those questions and come up with dozens more in that room. Then, his curiosity sated for the moment, he would move on and there would be Oliver’s collarbone, the nape of his neck, that spot right there behind his ear, his shoulder, his chest, the run of his back. There were so many hidden places on Oliver that Connor would have time to explore in that room.

So no, Paxton shouldn’t be the one with his lips on Oliver’s. Connor should.

Pax sat back up then. Licking the salt off his lips, he winked at Oliver as he took the shot and downed it. The liquid must have burned as he went down because he winced. “See, this is why you need the lime,” he said. “Well…that and…” He placed a thumb on Oliver’s lower lip, pressing it down just a touch.Connor didn’t manage to hold back his small growl this time.

Knowing smirk firmly in place, Pax turned to Connor. “See? Gentle.”

Unsure what he was planning to do, Connor sat up, his hands curling into fists. “Really? You—”

“Alright! Let’s get back to the game.” Michaela’s voice held a hint of warning. “There isn’t much time till midnight. Let’s keep going. Pax. It’s your pick.”

“Well. I don’t there’s much choice for me.” He put a hand on Oliver’s leg, well above the knee, and squeezed. “Truth or dare, Ollie?”

With a quick glance at Connor, Oliver swallowed and blurted out, “Dare.”

“Dare. Really?” Pax stood and crossed the room, once again taking his seat on the opposite couch. “Dare. Dare. Dare.” The man gave Connor a pointed look and then said to Oliver, “Kiss Connor.”

Once again, the room was silent. This time, however, the silence wasn’t broken by shouts and laughter. It was broken by a single, vicious word.

“No.”

~~~

Oliver couldn’t breathe.

When Michaela had announced they were playing Truth or Dare, Oliver had groaned inwardly. He had one very important secret he wanted to keep from a very important person in this room but he’d still gone along with the game anyway, keeping Laurel’s advice to have fun in the back of his mind.

And, to his own surprise, he was having fun. It was fun to laugh and tease with his classmates, fun to be a part of something that was going to be a story others only heard about.

He’d even gone along with Michaela’s body shot dare. Sure he’d been a bit nervous at first but Pax had been more understanding that Oliver would have expected and Oliver himself hadn’t objected. In truth, he’d kind of enjoyed it a little. Yeah, it hadn’t really been a body shot in the ‘traditional’ sense of the word but it had been enough for him and no one had complained.

Oliver had been a good sport about it all. He’d gone along with it. He had been having fun.

What’s the worst that could happen?

This.

He turned to Connor. “No?”

Connor’s eyes never left Pax’s. “No,” he said again.

Oliver’s mouth twisted into a nervous smile. It was a reflex, trying to smile through embarrassing situations, and he had never hated it more than he did in this moment. “Come on, Connor,” he tried. “It’s not a big deal.”

“No, I—” Connor turned, blinked, and couldn’t take his eyes off Oliver’s lips. “We aren’t doing that.”

“It’s just a little kiss,” Pax said, his tone taunting. “What’s the big deal?”

“Yeah,” Oliver agreed even though something in Pax’s tone made him pause. Something else was going on here but he couldn’t worry about that now. “It’ll be just a little kiss.”

“It can’t. Not with—”

Connor didn’t finish the thought but he didn’t have too. Not with you.

Connor’s face fell as his mind caught up to his mouth and heard back what he’d said. Then he saw the look on Oliver’s face. “No. Oliver, I—”

But Oliver had heard enough. Not with you. His face hot with mortification, he stood and stormed from the room.

“Oliver! Wait!”

Being unfamiliar with the house, he made a few wrong turns in his escape and somehow ended up in the garage but it was quiet and he was alone so Oliver decided to count the move as a win.

He only had a moment to appreciate the solitude of the garage, however, before the door opened and Connor burst through.

“Listen. I can explain—”

“Why couldn’t you just kiss me?” Oliver demanded. The shock and embarrassment melted away the nerves that were normally present in Connor’s company. When Connor simply stared at him in shock, Oliver demanded again. “Why? It wouldn’t have been a big deal if you had just kissed me. Simple kiss. It would have been over and done in a moment but you couldn’t just do it. Why?”

Connor hesitated. “Be…because—”

“Because why?” He waited a beat for Connor to respond but the other man stayed silent. “Why couldn’t you kiss me? You said you couldn’t have a simple kiss with me and I want to know why. What’s so terrible about me?”

“Jesus.” Connor’s eyes raised to the ceiling. “It wasn’t you—”

“Really? Because you were talking about me. It feels like it was about me to me.“ Oliver pulled a hand through his hair. He couldn’t believe they were doing this, having this conversation, and in Michaela Pratt’s garage of all places. "It would have been simple. It would have been just a simple press—”

“Because it wouldn’t be simple!” Connor nearly yelled. “There can’t be a simple kiss with you, Oliver!”

“Why? Why not?”

“Because…Because you are you, Ollie. You’re you and I—” Connor stopped then, catching his breath. Their eyes met and held.

“You are you,” Connor repeated, quiet and true. “And…and there’s nothing simple about what I feel about you.”

~~~

Connor decided that he was maybe going to let Michaela live.

“You…” Oliver let out a noise that was half laugh and have giggle; Connor wondered what he could say to get Oliver to make it again. “You have feelings for me?”

Connor nodded and Oliver did too. “Okay,” he said, mostly to himself. “That’s…that’s good to know.”

Waiting a moment and then one more, Connor opened his mouth. “Do…” He trailed off though; he didn’t know how to ask this question. He didn’t know if he could take the answer, either answer, any answer.

Answering a question that hadn't’ been asked, Oliver said, “I do. I…I really do.”

The breath caught in his chest at the look on Oliver’s face.

Connor was going to let Michaela live because, through her meddling, she helped put that look on Oliver’s face.

“I didn’t want to kiss you in front of them,” Connor explained as he took a step closer. “I didn’t want to have our first…first—”

“Kiss,” Oliver supplied.

“Yeah.” Connor coughed, distracted by how Oliver’s lips curved as they formed the word ‘kiss.’ “I didn’t want it to be in front of all of them. I didn’t want it to be…to be like your and Pax’s thing.“

“I appreciate the concern but…” Reaching out and twining their fingers together, Oliver confessed, “I don’t think our first kiss is going to be like anything like anything else.”

Connor couldn’t help the confused quirk of his eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”

The other man shrugged. “I don’t know. Just a feeling I guess.”

“Well, do you think that maybe we should—”

Connor was interrupted by a shout inside the house. “It’s happening!” “The ball’s dropping!” “It’s almost time.”

Keeping their eyes locked on each other, they listened to those inside the house scream along with the countdown.

10…9…8…

Oliver licked his lips.

7…6…5…

Connor brushed a thumb over the back of Oliver’s hand.

4…3…2…

They squeezed each other’s hands.

1!!

A cry went up from inside, “HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!”, along with confetti poppers and noisemakers and the faint sound of Auld Lang Syne playing over the speakers.

“Happy New Year, Connor,” Oliver whispered.

“Happy New Year, Ollie.”

They leaned in then. Lips brushing, hands reaching, tongues tentatively touching.

And Oliver was right. Their first kiss was nothing like anything that had come before.

Connor was definitely letting Michaela live.

[brooktrout96]

Truth

It was slow day at the DPD. Gavin had been typing up his reports as Connor walked up to his desk with a file in his hand as Hank stood behind him as he threw it down on his desk. He looked up at the android

What do you want, plastic prick?” He spat to the android as said android frowned

Look at this file and then ask me that question, Reed!” It spat at Gavin as he opened the folder

Model GV200–

Prototype

Name: Gavin

Manufactured date: 10/07/2019

Abilities:

Forensics and Reconstructs

GV200 had the prototype version of the reconstruction ability that the RK800 has. GV200 can analyze biological evidence (such as blood samples) in real time by putting them on his tongue to "taste" them. He can identify blood types, DNA (including identifying a specific human), drugs, sample age, etc. The same applies to android blood, where he can determine the model and serial number.

GV200 is able to reconstruct events and crimes from the gathered data using a physical simulation software prototype. With it, GV200's cutting-edge processors simulate the most probable version of events leading to the picture of evidence he has just discovered and analyzed, with every element playing a part in his cognitive simulation.

Similarly, he can preconstruct events: He can also predict the probability of an imminent event, physical and mental status of other androids, showing as the statistic in his internal interface, which he can refer to decide on his choices.

Psychology, Negotiation, Interrogation

GV200 had a prototype social module  that would allow it to integrate and adapt to humans and work in a team, which was the prototype of the semi-prototype social module that the RK800 model has more easily. GV200 was designed to analyze the psychology and behaviors of humans, to be able to reconstruct, predict, and manipulate their actions. This aids it in his function as a police assistant, and the associated skills as a negotiator and interrogator.

GV200 would have been trained to act at par with a real-life negotiator; he would have been one of the first non-human negotiator. He would have been deployed in dangerous situation where a human negotiator could potential be harmed and/or killed

Martial skills

GV200 would’ve had the capable of unarmed combat and of handling weapons. He was physically athletic and could swiftly traverse difficult terrain, as well as physically fight.

Note:

An unofficial prototype and the prototype of the prototype RK800. It dates back before the first public android (RT600 AKA Chloe) debuted. Designed by Y/N Dechart, and programed by Elijah Kamski, he was supposed to be adaptable to any situation but mostly to be a police android. Miss Dechart designed it as a forensic scientist, coroner, officer, anything that the police force would have needed in an android. He never saw the light of day as his design was scrapped as being too unreliable and unstable after Miss Dechart’s accident. It disappeared before it could be deactivated. She then began to design the RK800 to fulfill the role that the GV200 would have done

Addendum by Y/N Dechart

I’ve been visiting DPD as part of my studies for RK800 line. I’ve seen a detective that reminds me so much of Gavin but the one thing that caught my eye is that if this Det. Reed is the same Gavin I knew, it is showing emotions, which is weird for an android, but he is the first android Eli and I worked on, so there might be glitches that we worked out of the other android that never got worked out of it since we discontinued working on it after my accident.

I’m not going to go after this but I’m glad that Eli and I are the only one with access to GV200’s files for the moment but I am worried about CyberLife finding out about it and use it against me to get me fired

Gavin looked up at Connor

I am not an android, plastic prick.” He hissed at the android as he began to fidget in his chair. He knew that if Connor wanted, he could force an interface and he knew Connor would. He flashback to what Y/N had said to it the day before

~***~

You know once I release this file and Connor gets ahold of it, it’s going to try to find out the truth.” She said as she typed on her computer.

I know, what do you think I should do, then?”  He asked as Y/N looked up from her computer

There is one glitch that I know CyberLife probably never caught onto and got rid of in the RK line.” She said as she look back at her computer which had the RK800’s design she created up on it. “If you interface with them and show them emotionally powerful memories. It will cause them to freeze and depending on how much protection from deviancy he has. He could even deviate but no guarantee on that, though.”

~***~

Gavin grabbed Connor’s hand as his hand show the truth as his skin disappeared and white plastic appeared. People turned to see what was going on as Connor froze as he was showed memories from a long time ago

~***~

There was a woman wearing a blue lace sun dress and a cute hat on her head as Gavin looked up from where he was sitting and brooding. He had a shocked look on his face like he saw the woman for the first time every

Y/N? I thought you were dead. The explosion, Eli said he didn’t think you were going to make it. Where Ailis?” He asked as Y/N began to cry

Gavin, I don’t know how to tell you this but Ailis….” Y/N hiccupped as she thought of the words that she wanted to use. “She didn’t make it. She was with me and we were near the epicenter of the blast. I barely made it, the firefighter had to make a choice, save me or her and they decide that I had the most likely chance of surviving. So, they save me.” Gavin had turned away from as she spoke and when she revealed what happened he attacked her angerly with tears in his eye. She paused as she tried to pick her words carefully not to agitate Gavin even more. “I ended up in a coma and the doctors didn’t think I was going to make it, but I did as you can see.”

She gone.” He said sadly as Y/N nodded as he put her down and ran off as Y/N got up and yelled something at it.

~***~

Connor felt everything that Gavin had felt that day, the anger that he couldn’t be any help, the frustration, the sadness of losing a friend, and he froze as his system warned it of a glitch as Gavin ran off and the whole precinct was watching and saw that Gavin was an android even Fowler did. Hank was wide eyed as he was frozen as his partner crashed to the floor and he rushed to see if Connor was alright not even thinking about arresting Gavin but before he left, he said to Hank and Connor who had somewhat recovered.

Connor, there is a peaceful war brewing, and there will be a time that you’ll need to choose which side you are on, the humans or your people. At least I know what side I’m on, what about you.” Gavin turned and walked off and no one went after it. Hank went to check on Connor

Are you alright Connor?” He asked as Connor’s mind finally caught up with it.

Yeah, Lieutenant I’m fine.” He said as he turned to where Gavin once stood.

What was that all about then?” Hank asked as he looked down at the folder that Gavin was reading, and he picked it up and read it

Holy shit.” He looked toward where Gavin had fled. “I can’t believe this.”

[thrashermaxey]

Ramblings: FanDuel Partnership; Senators; Updates on Arvidsson, Schenn, JvR; Shot Rates – November 6

  A week after the MGM partnership announcement, the NHL has announced another partnership, this one with FanDuel, the daily fantasy sports site. Beyond advertising, the partnership will include things like contests for ‘experiences’ like the Winter Classic.

From someone who plays a lot of DFS, all I have to say is, “lol.” FanDuel is horrific for NHL contests. No site is perfect, but their problems over the years have run from things like egregious mis-pricing of players, incorrect positions for players, players missing from the player pool for games on end, and there was one night they listed Jamie Benn as his brother Jordie and vice versa. This isn’t ancient history, either, as this happened on Sunday night for the Columbus/Anaheim game:

  They literally priced everyone on Columbus last night at min price in their single game contest. High quality right there too.

— Troy Rapson (@TRap1680) November 5, 2018

  Maybe an official partnership will force to get FanDuel to fix their myriad problems with the NHL offerings. Then again, we’re talking about the NHL, and accurate numbers is not something we’ve grown accustomed to from them, either.  

Good on the NHL for realizing they need to get into the DFS and gambling spheres but choosing FanDuel as an official partner is like deciding to go on a diet and getting all your salads from Wendy’s.

*

Washington moved Jakub Vrana to the fourth line and Dmitrij Jaskin to the top line for their game Monday night. The Tom Wilson Shuffle continues.

*

The Flyers are going to have Brian Elliott examined to see exactly what is wrong with him when they return from the road trip. For now, it’s Calvin Pickard or bust, I guess.

*

The Rangers have called up prospect Lias Andersson:

  Here at Barclays, but I see #NYR recalled Lias Andersson from @WolfPackAHL

Brett Howden got dinged up last night.

— Jim Cerny (@JimCerny) November 5, 2018

  Where he slots remains to be seen, or if he even gets in the lineup. We shall see.

*

It looks like James van Riemsdyk should be back in the next couple weeks.

*

Viktor Arvidsson was placed on the injured reserve by the Predators on Monday afternoon with a lower-body injury. We have nothing further right now. Kevin Fiala remained on the top line for most of the last game with Calle Jarnkrok taking Arvidsson’s spot on the top PP unit.

*

Brayden Schenn is dealing with what Mike Yeo called “soreness” but that “soreness” caused him to miss the end of St. Louis’s last game and practice on Monday. Something tells me that’s more than just soreness. Here were the lines without him:

  #STLBlues lines today without Schenn: Schwartz-O'Reilly-Tarasenko Fabbri-Thomas-Perron Sanford-Bozak-Steen Maroon-Barbashev-Sundqvist extra: Soshnikov

— Lou Korac (@lkorac10) November 5, 2018

*

Just as a small aside here: if you’re a Thomas Chabot owner in a one-year league, now would be the time to explore a trade. He’s currently sitting with 11 secondary assists, which is three more than any player in the league. His pace for the season is 64.4 secondary assists. For a reference on how absurd that is, Claude Giroux led the league in this regard last year with 35 and Shayne Gostisbehere led all defencemen with 27. If you can trade Chabot as if he’s a top-10 or top-15 defenceman, do it.

*

Speaking of the Senators, this is easily the funniest thing I’ve seen in the NHL this year. Probably in the last couple years:

  ‘I haven’t paid attention in three weeks’: Sens players caught knocking coaches, laughing about team on video https://t.co/rNNSNjDjsd pic.twitter.com/toWFPhw5fx

— Ottawa Citizen (@OttawaCitizen) November 6, 2018

  There’s going to be some fallout from this one.

*

Tim Thompson (@b0undless on Twitter) made a wonderful homage to the Montreal Canadiens. Tim used to do the opening montages for Hockey Night in Canada (you remember how good those used to be? That’s who did them). It’s as good as anything he’s done, and that’s saying a lot considering the person who made it.

*

Sometimes, things work out perfectly.

New Jersey was in Pittsburgh for a Monday night tilt and it was Pittsburgh’s ‘Hockey Fights Cancer’ night. Not only did Brian Boyle score, he scored twice… and then a third time. Brian Boyle, cancer survivor, scored a natural hat trick on that night in Pittsburgh. Truly a special moment for a genuinely good man.

Will Butcher scored his first of the season and added a pair of assists helping the Devils to a 5-1 win. Keith Kinkaid started this one, stopping 34 of 35 shots, so it looks like Cory Schneider will go on Tuesday in Ottawa.

*

The fourth line did most of the damage for Washington in their 4-2 win over Edmonton as Jakub Vrana and Devante Smith-Pelly both scored in the first six minutes of the game. TJ Oshie and Alex Ovechkin added the others.

Connor McDavid and Leon Draisaitl replied for the Oilers.

Not for nothing, but the Oilers third line of Lucic-Strome-Puljujarvi looked pretty good. If they had a left winger who could score, it’d probably be a dangerous line.

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Max Domi continued his solid start for the Canadiens, posting a goal and an assist in the team’s 4-3 shootout win over the Islanders. He now has 8 goals and 15 points in 14 games in the Bleu, Rouge, et Blanc. Jonathan Drouin had the same stat line and now has 10 points on the year.

Drouin had six shots on goal as well, only the third time he’s managed that many in a game in a Habs uniform. He’s now averaging nearly 2.5 shots per game, which is about where he should be.

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Boston skated away with a 2-1 overtime win against Dallas. The first two goals of the game came on the same power play as Radek Faksa scored short handed while David Pastrnak tallied with the man advantage. More on Pastrnak later.

Brad Marchand scored the overtime goal, his fifth goal of the year.

Jake DeBrusk, by the way, is now on the top PP unit for Boston. He assisted on Pastrnak’s goal. My dreams are coming true!

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Update on the late game in the morning. 

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We’re a little over a month into the NHL season. As this point, fantasy owners should be looking at year-to-date stats to help us with our roster decisions. Everything from trades to waiver claims to which player to drop should now be informed, at least in part, by stats accumulated this year.

For these Ramblings specifically, we will be looking at changes in shot rates. Remember that last week I wrote in a Ramblings that the overall shot rate league-wide had changed very little from last year to this year. Any changes to a specific player, then, should not be attributed to some sort of league-wide increase. That is just not the case.

Let’s start at the top of the spectrum. Here are the top-20 shot rate increase from last year to this year. The cut off for this season is 125 minutes played and the rates are expressed at all strengths, not just five-on-five.

Data from Natural Stat Trick.

    Micheal Ferland

The former Calgary Flame has been skating almost all year on the top line with the Hurricanes. In fact, he’s only played about 35 of his 232 minutes of ice time away from Sebastian Aho. But that doesn’t really explain the entire reason his shots per game have nearly doubled from last year despite just over 90 extra seconds of ice time per game. The Hurricanes are an absolute buzzsaw offensively.

As of Monday afternoon, Ferland is on pace for 65 points this year, which would be by far a career high. Most people would assume there’s something unsustainable going on. About that…

On the season, Ferland’s all-strengths shooting percentage is just under 13 percent after posting consecutive seasons over 14 percent, so that’s in a normal range for him. His individual points percentage (IPP) is 61.1 percent, posting 59.4 percent last year and 67.6 percent the year before, so his IPP is also normal. His on-ice shooting percentage (the rate at which the team scores with him on the ice) is 9.8 percent, a year after a 10 percent season and two years after 8.8 percent. Again, that’s well within his norms. Given that his personal shooting percentage, on-ice shooting percentage, and IPP are all completely normal, this 65-point pace is for real.

Of course, “for real” assumes constant line mates and role. Were the Hurricanes to hit a skid and he’s moved down to the third line or something, this would change. As long as he’s skating with Aho and is getting power play time, I wouldn’t expect much to change. Ferland is a true 60-point potential player.

  David Pastrnak

I won’t dig into this too much. He’s just worth a mention because he was a guy whose shot rate declined a fair amount last year compared to 2016-17 and it was difficult to gauge exactly where he would land this year. Well, that question has been answered as he’s among the leaders in shot rate (fifth in the league) and his shots per game are well over 4.00. Consider all shot concerns squashed.

  Alexander Kerfoot

The now-24-year old Kerfoot had a solid rookie campaign, posting 19 goals and 43 points in 79 games. The problem was he managed just 81 shots in those 79 games. That’s very poor and really hurt his value in roto leagues. He’s managed to turn that around a bit with 25 shots in 14 games this year. Not where we’d want a top-end fantasy option to be, but an improvement nonetheless.

What makes hit shots/game mark look a little better is that he’s still earning just over 14 minutes per game. His shot attempt rate (12.39) isn’t very far off from teammate Gabriel Landeskog (12.37) to give you an idea of how much more he’s shooting this year compared to last.

There is one area of concern with Kerfoot and that is his IPP. Not that it’s outlandish, but it sits just under 77 percent right now. Last year it was 71.7 percent. The question is what his true talent level for involvement is. Elite players are always involved in scoring and guys between 75 and 80 percent in 2017-18 are mostly elite players like Benn, Stamkos, Kuznetsov, Giroux, Duchene, Marner, Pastrnak, Gaudreau, and Malkin. Kerfoot could be having a one-off year or establishing himself as a top-tier playmaker.

I suspect that Kerfoot’s assist rate will slow down. Don’t expect a 45-50 assist season. On the other hand, Kerfoot’s zone entry/exit numbers in 2017-18 were excellent:

That graphic from CJ Turtoro's viz site. 

Fantasy owners shouldn’t dismiss out of hand that Kerfoot can’t have a season similar to what Ryan Johansen did in 2017-18 – somewhere around 15 goals and 40 assists. But there won’t be much for peripherals and fantasy owners need to decide what their specific team needs are.

  Filip Forsberg

Forsberg, like Pastrnak, will only get a brief mention here because of his shot rate decline last year. In fact, he had declined in consecutive seasons going into 2018-19. He’s seen a huge ice time boost, though, as he’s clocking in at 19:17 per game, a career high and nearly two full minutes more than last year (17:28, but to be fair, about half that increase has come on the penalty kill). But he’s also taking a career-high in shots per 60 minutes, landing a career-high in shots per 60 minutes, and that, in conjunction with the added ice time, has led to his 10-goal start to the season. I mean, shooting 20.8 percent doesn’t hurt either, but even if that declines to his career norms around 13-14 percent, he’d still be on a 40-goal pace for the year. As long as the ice time doesn’t decline, and he keeps shooting as he is, he is a true threat for 40 goals this year. Let’s just hope he stays healthy.

    from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-fanduel-partnership-senators-updates-on-arvidsson-schenn-jvr-shot-rates-november-6/