#bare in mind I haven’t actually gone through and and sorted my boards by whose in them

[dailyhtfboards]

Day 75

Today’s board is:

Oh hey, sorry for interrupting ya Tuna, I’ll just leave ya to your uh. Your sink. (From TV episode 11A Wingin It)

[beskarhearts]

re: you wanting one shot/blurb ideas: *chanting softly* domestic din, domestic din, domestic-

HOME (DIN DJARIN X READER)

Pairing: Din Djarin x AFAB!reader

Word count: over 1.9K

Warnings: very brief allusion to sexy time (I think that is it but let me know)

Summary: Sometimes home was a person, not just a place.

Notes: Just so you know, I completely ignored events of season 2 because I just wanted these 2 to be happy and we all deserve domestic Din. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know what you think!!

_____________________________

Home had seemed like such a foreign concept to both you and Din for so long. You were aware of its existence but it may as well had been the Force with how confusing of a thought it was to you two. The galaxy was a hard and tough place, one that seemed like you had to fight to get through each day. Din certainly had been handed the short end of the stick as well, having gone through more struggles and travesties than you could count on one hand. In a world that was so brutal and could sometimes be so cruel, how the hell were you to find a home in the midst of it?

But then for some reason, the universe aligned and you had met Din on a fateful day that changed the rest of the course of your life. It took awhile because of the walls you both had up and the lack of trust you had in humanity, but eventually you came to realize something. Sometimes home was a person, not just a place.

So for years you were content with Din, even if that meant living in the Crest with Grogu and traveling from place to place. You had him by your side and that was enough for you - enough for the rest of your life. You wouldn’t mind hopping from planet to planet as long as at the end of the day you could slip into a cot with Din, no matter how tiny or uncomfortable it may had been. And Din the same. Sure the Crest had been a sort of home to him considering how long he had it but it had never felt quite as bright until you were in it. Never had Din felt so settled and content until he felt the warm brush of your fingers against his hair and felt the wave you seemed to mold into his touch, like you were becoming one person. That was also when Din realized home could be a person.

That still didn’t stop you two from hoping though. You couldn’t bare to say it during the day but at night, when you two whispered sweet nothings to each other, you would also make grand plans of a home. Talk about how one day you two would settle down on a sparsely populated planet somewhere with Grogu. Find a small little house and take care of each other for the rest of your days until you were old. Maybe have a couple kids to fill the empty rooms with noise and happiness. You would talk of having a kitchen where you could make meals and teach Din how to cook, both of you eating something other than ration packs or broth on a daily basis. Find a place with some land so Din could step outside without his helmet with no fear and breath in some fresh air, while the child you had both come to love roamed around the tall grass. Din would speak of a bed - a proper bed - where you both could spread out as wide as you wanted (even though you both knew each night would end with you in each other’s arms, trying to get as close as heavenly possible). A place that could properly be decorated for holidays and special occasions, maybe even a big tree for a Life Day.

But all of those had seemed like simple dreams best to be spoken of in the warm confines of each other’s arms. Because things like that didn’t happen for people like you two.

Until they somehow did. Until somehow everything fell in line and you realized it was no longer a dream, but close enough to touch and grasp if you really wanted it. And hell, you both wanted it so badly. So when Din landed the Crest on a planet with warm air and fresh grass and flowers, he knew you would love it. It was meant to just be another pit stop until Din found an abandoned little house in the middle of this field and suddenly he realized everything he wanted was right in front of him. He could let you and the child settle down. You and him could relax and finally make the family you had discussed. It was sitting there right in front of him, like all the beautiful magical intricacies of the galaxy came together to form this perfect little sanctuary for you both.

Din had been so excited to show you that he quite literally ran to you, dragging you and the child with him in the most chipper mood you had ever seen the man. You had playfully teased him for his childlike behavior until your eyes landed on the small house and your heart melted. The look you have Din was not one you needed to explain because he had the same exact one. No words were spoken, no confirmation of what he wanted that place to be for you. You both knew and all you had to do was grab Din’s hand and walk him into the home for him to instantly decide to retire from his life and spend the rest of his days with you on a planet whose name he could barely remember.

The place had not been in the greatest shape. It was old and had clearly been abandoned for long enough that the place fell into a little disarray. But you and Din had certainly faced much worse so you didn’t allow it to scare you away. Instead Din worked on building furniture and fixing holes in the wall, a big smile on his face the whole time because he was constantly being hit with the realization of ‘this is what normal people do��. You had painted the walls with flowers like you could see outside the windows, filling it with more color than Din had ever seen in his life. And once the home was finally finished, equip with a functioning kitchen and the largest bed you had laid your eyes on, you and Din got married.

You could of traveled into the closest town and maybe found someone to officiate it for you, but that felt so conventional and unnecessary. You didn’t need another person to declare your love for each other and make it official. You had only ever needed each other so you both had as traditional of a Mandalorian wedding as you could, a bit difficult due to it being only you two and the very dapper flower boy that had been Grogu (who had managed to eat all the flowers and not throw a single one). Din wore his armor and you wore a small white dress you had made from a set of curtains but you both swore it was the most beautiful the other one had ever looked.

Shortly after you had gotten married, Din had begun to not-so-subtly, in fact very obviously, started dropping hints about kids. There would be times you were sitting on the couch and Din would look around before saying something like, "This house is a little big for just the three of us, don't you think?" Just the other day, Din had gone into the closest town for some supplies and came back not only with food and stuff you needed, but with a plethora of baby clothes that he all claimed were for Grogu (even though they were all obviously way too small for him).

You knew what Din was doing because it was the clearest thing in the world and you were on board. But watching Din drop the most obvious hints and slowly become more flustered the longer you pretended to be oblivious was hilarious to you. But eventually a dam broke and Din just grabbed you and marched towards the bedroom, very loudly stating that it was time to make some babies ASAP to which you responded with a fit of giggles.

And that led you to where you were now. Stood in the middle of your kitchen in your home, looking out the window where you admired the way the sun illuminated the flowers and trees. A warm cup of caf was clutched between your hands, the wonderful scent filling your nostrils as you held it close to your mouth. The home was silent, the child still asleep in his room and you had left Din to sleep in the bed while you snuck out.

The moment you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you into a broad expanse of warmth, you let out a small content hum. Din's head nuzzled into your neck, his ruffled hair tickling your chin. "Mornin', cyar'ika." Din grumbled, his voice still laced with a type of sleep-drunk tone you adored. His voice in the morning was always your favorite - it seemed to amplify the gruffness and deepness his voice he usually had.

"Morning." you whispered back, feeling your heart flutter when a light kiss was pressed into your neck before he pulled away, grabbing a mug a caf for himself.

You admired his figure, eyes raking up and down in pure adoration. His hair was ruffled and messy from sleep, going in every which way. His eyes were still a little droopy and his whole body still sagged a little. He was wearing a shirt you had given him months ago, one that you were certain he found ridiculously ugly yet he claimed was his favorite because you chose it for him specifically. "Why are you up so early?"

"Wanted to watch the sunrise." you responded, your smile growing as he padded back over to you and planted a kiss on your forehead.

"You look beautiful."

You snorted, giving him a small lopsided smile. "I haven't even brushed my hair yet or washed my face. I am still crusty."

Din smiled, looking down at you with the warm brown eyes you had learned to love. "Well your crust is very sexy."

You threw your head back in laughter that time, shaking your head as he joined in with a slight chuckle. "Din, you are a horrible liar."

"I'm not lying. I love the morning crust. It's cute." he responded back, no hint of sarcasm in his voice but a slight twinkle in his eye.

"Shut up." you huffed, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Y'know, it is actually so sexy that we should probably-"

Din was cut off when the sound of cries began to fill the house, the noise coming straight from Grogu's room. You chuckled when an exasperated expression grew on his face and he placed his cup in your hand. "What were you saying, handsome?"

Din rolled his eyes as your sarcastic remark but you could still see the small quirk on the corner of his lip. "I'll go get him."

"You sure?" you asked.

"Yeah." Din mumbled, heading towards the door to Grogu's room slowly. He turned back to you once last time before opening the door. "Cyar'ika?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

You softly smiled. "I love you too."

Din smiled before opening the door to Grogu's room, slipping inside. Within a couple minutes, the crying died down and was replaced with soft cooing that filled your heart with warmth, accompanied by the sound of Din's soft voice as he spoke to the child. You placed the cups of caf on the counter and then made your way towards the room, thinking how this is exactly what home was supposed to feel like.

[actlikeyoudidntdoit]

ASSASSIN’S MODERN DAY PROFESSIONS

—————————————————

ALTAÏR

College Professor

-We all know that Altaïr has spent most of his life teaching, so what better job does he have than a college professor?

-He knows what he’s talking about, that much is certain, but sometimes he gets a little too lost in his lesson to realize that his students are scratching their heads. So it’s normal to have students staying after class, but they leave understanding every word of what he said.

-He’s not the fun teacher, but he’ll be able to teach you what you need and still remember it at the end of the day.

-He’s pretty lenient, and even with the obnoxious students who cause a scene, he calmly gets them to at least do their work.

-Other teachers always use him as a reference when it comes to the perfect teacher.

EZIO AUDITORE

-I can see Ezio being a public speaker since he’s not all that scared of crowds and spends a lot of time giving advice, so I think he’d really enjoy being able to help a crowd of people whose lives are falling apart

-Ezio would be the single anchor in a sea of storms because he always seems to have an answer for everything. He’s a man whose words are turned into inspirational quotes that people hang on their walls.

-When he says that things will be okay, no one doubts him since they know that he lost his father and his brothers very early on and that it took years for Ezio to accept the loss the way he had. If he could soldier through it, why couldn’t they?

-He doesn’t involve himself in politics, finding them to be a waste of time and breath despite how many people ask for his input on the political status of the country he’s staying in.

-He speaks to a lot of people in private, letting them speak their minds and giving his advice if they want it. He’s a therapist without a license, and you always feel hopeful about life leaving his office.

Connor

Construction or Sports

-This boy was designed for heavy work, and I’ve heard some good points in saying that not only would he be amazing at sports, but he’d also really enjoy it too.

-In my personal headcanon, I think he’d be a good construction worker as well. Not the high end kind that build skyscrapers or anything, but I can see him building simple houses for small communities, taking the lower jobs that can’t afford much help like the sweetheart he is. He definitely volunteers to make houses for the homeless.

-Since most of the homeless he helps don’t have much money, he makes sure to offer them baked goods because he’s definitely a baker.

Edward Kenway

-As a young man, he joins the navy

-Once he’s on his own, he buys his own boat and treats it like royalty.

-He’s not a pirate himself, but he does let less legal people on board for a price. At the time, it was just an easy cash pay since people paid good money when they were desperate.

-When he’s older and gets a grip on some of the people he’s helping (like the REALLY bad criminals) he quickly lets it go.

-Yet after seeing some of the more decent people and the places they were running from, I can see him being a sort of smuggler, but instead of smuggling drugs or weapons, he sells medicines, canned foods, and clothes to the regions where they’re scarce or hard to pay for.

-When he’s older and found a fortune over time, he starts up his own official charity, hiring various sailers to sail supplies to more places than he himself could alone.

SHAY CORMAC

-Okay, I have to say it. Shay would DEFINITELY be an FBI spy. Maybe I haven’t thought of it as heavily as I could, but he just strikes me as a man who could kill someone in plain sight and still not be seen.

-He already knows everything he can about infiltrating and getting vital information

-He knows exactly how to manipulate people to get what he wants.

-He’s like Macgyver but as an agent.

-He does things that make sleeping at night impossible, but he tells himself that every long night for him is another person somewhere else having a peaceful night, and peaceful nights means he’s doing his job. Right?

-Constantly questions his morals, but he can’t bring himself to stop, not knowing that he’d do if he stopped, because at least here he’s doing something. He’s contributing.

-That and maybe I might or might not want to see Shay in a suit 🤷‍♀️

AVELINE

-Actress. And a damn good one. She’s one of the kind of people who get paid millions each job and gives most of her cash on people who really need it. Not only that, she’s a fan favorite everywhere.

-She takes extra jobs in smaller businesses barely staying afloat, and public morality boosts has nothing to do with it. In fact, she keeps her fame life out of everything, choosing to see it just as another job.

-I can see her sharing similarities of Zendaya or Zoe Zaldana

ARNO DORIAN

-High school teacher or actor, I can’t decide.

-Because let’s be honest, this guys brain is more wrinkled than a raisin. He knows his stuff.

-He’s good at simplifying what he’s saying, and that happens to be a very useful trait when it comes to teaching.

-If he was a teacher, he’d be a damn good one, that’s for sure. No one will fail his class because he’s so good at explaining things, and he’d be the one who actually cares for his students.

-When it comes to acting... just admit that Arno’s a theater boy through and through. If you need proof, he’s the only one with a crazy amount of fancy robes and colors. FOR GODS SAKE HE OWNS A THEATER! So on modern day, I could totally see him as an actor as well.

-He’d be the Ewan Mcgregor of the modern day, because everyone recognizes him from SOMEWHERE because he’s really tested his acting ability on multiple various roles. Well read, charming, and level headed, he’d totally rock being an actor. He’s good friends with Aveline, and when they both have time in their busy schedules, they stop by for coffee and fill each other in on their life.

JACOB

-Boxing

-I saw the photoshops of Jacob in boxer life, and I have not been the same because oh my god that is amazing.

-but absolutely he’d be a boxer. He’s the shortest guy in the entire match, but he doesn’t need a stool to knock you on your ass before you can laugh about it.

-His opponents are lucky shattering bones is against the rules because he knows how to make someone wish their dad wore a condom.

-A lot of people think that his rounds must be rigged, and his sister had to physically hold him back every time Jacob threatened to give him a close up of how ‘rigged’ his fights were.

-Jacobs a powder keg, so it doesn’t take much to make him explode, and a lot of the less respectful people he has to fight picks particularly sore spots to do just that.

-He might be pissed, but his punch isn’t the only thing that stings. He knows exactly what words to use, and when they’ve gone too far, he doesn’t hold back.

-Might have a temper, but he has a good heart despite it all. He visits schools and completely turns his personality around with kids. He signs autographs, takes pictures, and makes sure that every one of them have a fun day because he knows that there’s some kids in this school that don’t have those kinds of days. He pays the school for field days each time, making sure they all get out. They bring out the scooters, parachutes, capture the flag, and ‘wrestling’ matches for the kids who want to face him. He loses every time. He never has a bigger smile on his face than when he has children fans walk up to him.

EVIE

-She is totally a lawyer and you can’t change my mind.

-Logic and Facts are her strongest weapons, and so far she has yet to lose a debate.

-Every other lawyer knows that seeing Evie walk into court is an instant death sentence, because like her brother, her words are sharp as a knife and her mind is even sharper.

-If they didn’t look identical, no one would believe that she would be related with Jacob the hot headed boxer, because she was level as water and was near impossible to make angry, but god help the poor sod that presses her.

-Her clients almost always get the best case scenario with Evie by their side by how good she is.

-Also like her brother, children are her weak spot, and her hard composure melts whenever she needs to speak to a child in the witness post, making sure that the child feel comfortable unlike the others that drill the kid with questions when they’re too skittish to answer. She takes her time and gets the kid feeling safe, and gently asks their side.

-Evie might not do it as a profession, but Evie has beaten Jacob in the boxing ring in the gym. She knows damn well how to handle herself, knowing she’d need it since she’d be fighting corrupt politicians or gang members who have too often tried attempts at her life. Every time she emerged unscathed, using the attempt at even more evidence against them and insuring a spot in jail. No one dared try attacking her again after that.

BAYEK

-I’m thinking police officer or motivational speaker for trauma.

-Either way, he’s a guardian who takes care of the people he’s in charge of. He knows words well, and having been down the dark path himself, he knows exactly what people experience and what they want to hear.

-Be the change you want to see in the world, and that’s exactly what he’s doing.

-He’d be a well respected officer, and he’s not afraid of telling off a comrade if someone is wrongfully accused. He’s not very popular in the police station, but as long as he’s doing his job, he’s satisfied.

-He’s saved several people over the course in his life, and his word is well honored since he’s on no ones side. He sees things as what they are and doesn’t twist events he disagreed with to his point of view. Even if it hurts him personally, he doesn’t lie.

-He’s divorced, but they’re still best friends with each other and visit when they can.

AYA (ran out of gifs. Sorry)

-She is hands down a self defense teacher for women

-She sells hidden self defense tools for less than ten dollars, always sure to keep constantly supply of them since many have confessed that they’ve saved them from dangerous situations.

-Like her former husband, she’s a protector and makes sure she provides her students with the best.

-She teaches children what to do if they ever get grabbed, and she’s had many parents in years thanking her when that information ended up saving their child’s life.

ALEXIOS

-Hands down he is a stunt double

- Preferably Arno’s since he relies more on flexibility than brute strength. Then there’s the fact that they look similar enough in features

-He does the moves that would probably be safer if they were just CGI, but he hates those computers with a passion, preferring to do the real thing instead of giving out something fake. He’s broken more bones than he can count, and the companies he works with always have a medic on standby when something goes wrong.

-They tried convincing him that they only needed him for a few spots, but after realizing that he wanted this (and him assuring them that he doesn’t bother with suing), they let him do his thing. The results are fruitful since the most nitpicky movie fans are absolutely thrilled when there’s a particular move done right.

-He teaches Arno a good few things about how to do action scenes, and they’re definitely good friends.

KASSANDRA

-Roller Derby

-She lives for throwing people and smacking them without being judged for it, so the Derby’s her safe spot.

-Everyone on the opposing team is terrified of her, always scared when they see her devilish smile, knowing that they’re about to get their asses handed to them. Like her brother, she’s an adrenaline junky, and when she’s not doing the derby, she’s going off into car races in a water trench. She’s surprisingly very good with cars too, knowing the inside and out of a car like the back of her hand.

-She loves it when men try to catcall her. It gives her a perfect opportunity to punch them in the face.

-She loves the races themselves because no one expects it. Sometimes she pretends to act like a beginner and absolutely slaughter them, giving them a nice wink before driving out with her cash.

-Only has a soft spot for the girl who visits her on weekends. She’s practically her older sister, and there will be hell to pay if her favorite kid gets hurt in any way.

EIVOR

-BACA(Bikers Against Child Abuse)

-The moment I saw this, I instantly thought about them.

-they would absolutely be a part of this

-Looking all badass in leather while turning into a softie for children? That’s Eivors entire character right there.

-Eivors not afraid to get physical with an abuser. They’d beat the abuser to a pulp and right after take the child out for ice cream.

-No one messes with Eivor, knowing that their lenience was stretched only for children. Anyone else tried to pressure her? Your teeth would be shattered and they’d wear the bits for a necklace.

-Children are much more brave around them because they’re tougher than their parent and on their side, so they’re not afraid to give them to the police

[hotcoffeecoldmornings]

(This shit is long so bear with me.)

Can’t Eat, Can’t Sleep, Reach for the Stars

I haven’t felt this way in awhile. This ‘can't eat, can't sleep, reach for the stars, over the fence, world series kind of love.’ 

It’s hard to describe. The last time I was all-consumed like this by a TV show and a ship, that TV show was The 100, that ship was Clexa, and my world was, quite honestly, turned upside down by it.

I used the first two seasons of The 100 as background noise as I wrote my Master’s Thesis in 2015. To be honest, I didn’t really know exactly what was happening until Bodyguard of Lies (an episode anyone reading this post probably remembers well) came on. And a passionate kiss between two world leaders left me speechless and shocked. I was blindsided by it, unaware that that kiss would be the beginning of not only finding myself, but also accepting myself, and then finding a chosen family I never knew that I needed because of it.

There’s been alot of (okay, not a lot, but more) f/f ships on TV since then. Maggie and Alex. Nicole and Waverly. Elena and Syd. Kat and Adena. Anissa and Grace. Stef and Lena. Karolina and Nico. And the list goes on… While each of these ships is equally important, and each one represents another push towards more inclusive storytelling, there was never a ship that hit me as hard as Clarke and Lexa did.

Until now.

Harold, They’re Lesbians

Gay. Witches.

Motherland: Fort Salem said the words. And I fucking came running.

Okay, so it took me a few weeks… Thank you, twitter timeline, for finally getting my ass on board. It’s not that I didn’t want to start the show. It’s that my anxiety-ridden brain had other plans for me in mid-March. Like spending the majority of my time researching a global pandemic and then crawling into a depression hole because of it… Or something like that.

But nonetheless, I’m here now. And I’m fucking staying.

I knew I’d love this show. The concept of witches peppered with the idea that sexuality is irrelevant is honestly my one and only weakness. So I went into episode one with high hopes. And I sure as hell was not disappointed.

Episode 1 gave me even more than I could’ve asked for. We meet three uniquely powerful individuals, who all come from three uniquely interesting backgrounds. Abigail Bellweather, born into a lineage of the most powerful and elite witches Fort Salem has ever seen. Tally Craven, the last one standing in her family’s long-line of service, selflessly choosing to say the oath when she didn’t technically have to. And Raelle Collar, who has an unparalleled set of powers, combining her mother’s Christo-Pagan ways with those of the seeds learned at Fort Salem.

Rounding out that already brilliant cast is Scylla Ramshorm, the ‘sexy weird’ Necro who may or may not be evil (but we love her all the same). General Sarah Alder, the original witch who signed the Salem Accord, selling out every future witch to the United States Army, and whose ego quite often gets the best of her. And Anacostia Quartermaine, the Bellweather Unit’s Drill Sergeant who has a peculiar fondness (and leniency) for Raelle Collar.

The fact that this television show is entirely female centered (like, we’re talking 60 seconds of male screen time in the pilot), is what separates this show from most. Men exist in the world of Fort Salem as characters to exclusively propel the female leads forward, which is a stark contrast to the majority of shows right now.  And not only is the entire main cast female, the main lead is gay. And honestly, the sexuality of every character on the show is questionably debatable as well. Except for Abigail, who quite clearly is into any and all men, and Tally, who grew up on a Matrifocal Compound and ended up in Fort Salem as a virgin. Which, of course, no shade to her, but it did strike me as odd when Abigail immediately assumed Tally’s virgin-ness when growing up in an all-female world was brought up.

So let’s start there, shall we?

 The Heteronormative Narrative (or not…)

Something I did find puzzling about Motherland: Fort Salem (and the only thing, really) is how they portray sexuality, relationships, and love. In regards to sexuality, Eliot Laurence, the creator and executive producer, has been incredibly forward in interviews with the narrative that ‘your sexual preference doesn’t matter in this world.’ Which I appreciate to the fullest, trust me. But pardon my slight hesitation when I hear that line, because I think we’ve all been burned by it once before.

Motherland: Fort Salem has done a tremendous job of this. They’ve allowed characters to own their sexuality without question. It was never a thing when Raelle started dating Scylla. At Beltane, everyone went off with whomever the dance paired them with - even if that meant the same gender, and even if that meant three or four or five of them. Sexuality, in regards to same-sex partners, is never a character arc in this show, and it’s never there to create a plot point. 

HowEVER, there were a few things I noticed that confused that fact. 

Like I said about Abigail in the very first episode, when the Bellweather Unit is meeting for the first time, why was Abigail so quick to question Tally’s virginity after learning she comes from a Matrifocal Compound? If there are no heteronorms in the world of Motherland: Fort Salem, then why is it assumed that losing your virginity is related to relations with a man? Even though Tally is (well… was) a virgin, why would that question be brought up? If roles were reversed and it was Raelle living on the Matrifocal Compound, the conversation would’ve gone strikingly different, and it would’ve supported this heteronormative narrative that I thought we were trying to avoid. I’m just going to blame this one line on how badly Abigail wants the D, so sleeping with a woman wouldn’t even cross her mind.

But then what about the idea of this ‘five-year marriage contract’? It’s simply about producing a child, so I assume a woman could never have that sort of thing with another woman, and that those women could never add to their lineage (unless they entered into a five-year marriage contract simply to reproduce). Doesn’t this, alone, signify a heteronormative world without even meaning to do so? While they accept LGBTQ+ relationships, how do they actually fit into the society and culture that this show has created? Wouldn’t the gay witches be seen as almost inadequate in carrying on the gene if they don’t have a child? (AmI just thinking too much into this...?)

But then again, the whole concept of ‘love’ in Fort Salem is rather insignificant itself. As Gerit mentions, no one is supposed to spend their life with just one person. Witches are committed to one another in five-year partnerships to reproduce, and then that’s it. So in a way, I understand that nobody, no matter what their sexuality is, really gets to experience this fairytale ending that we’re used to seeing in a (*cough* heterosexual) ship on TV. And in a way, I also think that’s what makes this show all the more fascinating. Eliot Laurence gave everyone a level playing field by just removing the idea of a happily ever after altogether. In Laurence’s world, witches are meant to train and fight and die for their country. Love is their weakness. But what’s so compelling about that is even though love is their weakness, he made sure that love also manifests into their greatest strength.

From what I’ve seen in interviews for Laurence, every single thing has a purpose. So I’m quick to let this go, and see where he takes us. He’s been building this world inside his head for nine years, so I know that there’s so much more to this story than what can be told in a 10-episode season.

 But Back to the Lesbians

Anyway, back to love. Specifically gay love. I wish I could put into simple words my obsession with Raelle and Scylla. 

From the incredible chemistry that Taylor Hickson and Amalia Holm share on-screen together to the directors and writers who’ve portrayed their love story so magically, Raelle and Scylla are truly something special. They’ve taken the place of a ship this queer fandom lost when Lexa was killed. It’s a ship that you want to hate, because every part of this story tells me to hate Scylla. She’s Spree. She’s vindictive. She’s dangerous. Yet every part of my brain tells me to love her. And to love them together.

I don’t like easy stories. I want stories that make the ending worth it. I want hardships and pain and hurt and work when it comes to love. Which is why I like the story of Raelle and Scylla. There was a spark between them in their very first scene together- a spark you could feel through the TV. It was believable and real. They come from similar backgrounds of loss and solitude, and that’s what originally bound them together. And over the next seven episodes, we watched their relationship grow. We saw their vulnerabilities, their growth, their passion. But now we’re going to see the hardship. The pain, the anger, the betrayal. 

I appreciate that they’re not skimping on telling any part of their story. The two are special together, and so far, this show has proved that.

 She’s Special

I want to break down Raelle Collar before bringing up anything else, because, well, obviously she’s the main character, but she’s also got a lot going on. The fact that Raelle channels her power through something other than the typical ‘seed’ is something that will be of importance to why she’s so powerful. Petra Bellweather, herself, claims that Raelle’s mom, Willa, used unconventional methods that delivered incredible results. “She was the fixer every unit wanted to deploy with.” 

While all witches in Basic Training are learning about utilizing their extra set of vocal cords to create magic songs, Raelle can do it in a way that’s reminiscent of where she grew up- Chippewa Cession. In the very first episode, she makes note that her family was there before it became a Cession. Aka, before the land was given to the Chippewa tribe in exchange for their magic.

Raelle comes from a line of witches that all have more unique abilities than what’s taught at Basic Training. She uses a combination of Native American spirituality/Christo-Paganism skills during her days at Fort Salem, which brings up questions (and judgment) from other witches. It seems as though that kind of magic was the way witches used to do things before Sarah Alder released her song into the world and created a vocalizing army with it. Raelle’s peers look disgusted when they see her still using the same ways witches once did. It’s particularly noticeable when she heals people, and recites Matthew 7:7, “Ask, and it shall be given to you; seek and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” The entire theme of the Book of Matthew, in regards to Christianity, is about prayer. Asking and receiving. That God will provide you with what’s needed, and nothing more. But when it comes to Paganism, it’s about the law of attraction and return in our universe. It outlines that there is no life without balance - that all prayers can be answered, but they’ll be answered with things that are taken from elsewhere. All prayers almost have a consequence. Just like all magic has a consequence. 

Raelle’s power, at least what she knows of it up until now, is based on a consensual balance, bringing the theme of Paganism’s Matthew 7:7 into the type of witchcraft she practices. She can heal someone, but what she heals them from will be transferred onto her. Balance. Consequence.

Bringing General Sarah Alder back into this, this is the same type of magic that she traded for back in the 1700’s when she granted the Chippewa Tribe the entire length of the Mississippi River. In exchange, she gained the magic that could keep her eternally young. But just like the magic that Raelle does, this age defying practice has consequences too, and requires balance. Every 50-60 additional years that General Alder adds on to her endless life, a young witch must be sacrificed to take on those years, and must stand by General Alder the rest of her short-lived life. 

But where does the balance go?

Adil is such a great addition to the cast because he sheds a light on something so crucially ignored on campus. All magic has balance. This is teased throughout the season, like when General Alder hits turbulence on her way to The Hague and jokes (but not really jokes), “I assume I have one of you to blame for that.” Or how Raelle soaks up her ‘patients’ illness. But it’s not truly smacked in our faces until Adil says it.

As Abigail is flaunting her ability to *one day* “grind iron into ore and mountains into dust,” Adil drops a truth bomb on her. “All that weather you fight with has a cost. Floods. Failing crops. Famine. Every war, people starve.” She’s quick to reply that the good they do far outweighs the bad. But to who? Certainly not to Adil and his people. Meeting him is going to give our recruits a serious insight into just how consequential their ‘work’ can be. He’s going to play a crucial role in realizing how manipulative and egotistical General Alder has been. 

Not only is weather an issue, but plagues. “Like the one attacking my sister.” Adil and Khalida come into the storyline because Khalida is sick with a deathly black webbing wrapped around her body. When they first make it to the Military Outpost (somewhere in the dessert between Russia and China?), the Soldier who meets them at the gate yells, “they’re here.” So were they expecting them? 

Raelle eventually is the one who heals Khalida, (by using her Christo-pagan means) but instead of taking up the illness like it usually does, instead, it infects the giant mushroom that Raelle touched earlier. 

The balance of Mother Mushroom.

I go back and forth between theories for the giant mushroom growing under Fort Salem. But today, I’m convinced the mushroom is attached to General Alder’s vitality. And consequently, the entire vitality of Fort Salem as well. In one episode, Berryessa reminds us that all life on campus is directly connected to Alder. And if what Scylla says in My Witches, that “life becomes death, which becomes life again,” is relative to the life on campus and how General Alder parallels that, then this theme of balance throughout the series is more prominent than we realize.

The giant mushroom living under campus is clearly important. It has hands and replicates faces and takes on diseases and Izadora is not a fan of  anyone touching it. So yes, you could say this fungi is a main character now.

But. Why?

“In the kingdom of plants, mushrooms occupy the underworld. Nothing ever really dies.” Mushrooms have an entire underground network of language to one another. And they are responsible for the breakdown and decomposition of death so that organic matter can become something else. Necros have an obvious connection to this ecological process too, so they must have a connection to the continuous process that General Alder goes through to support and sustain life on her campus. 

I think that the “Mother Mycelium” signifies each and every consequence that Fort Salem has accumulated. It holds the hurt and death and pain and regret of everything General Alder has created. And now that the Mushroom is infected with whatever plague Khalida had, I think it’s going to wreak havoc on Fort Salem. Magic is based on balance, and I think massive consequences are coming to make up for years of disparity. 

One last thing on my mushroom-thoughts, is when Helen Graves said “the dead make excellent eyes and ears.” An underground network of mushrooms all connected to recently dead organisms would certainly be a great way to gain insight too. Scylla mentions that she needs something recently dead to grow her deathcap, so does this Mushroom need to be constantly “fed” with death to continue the creation of life? 

Does Alder know about that? Are the mass-murders that the Spree are doing related to this? Killing hundreds of people at a time would definitely be a good way to keep the mushroom o’ death fed. Is Alder behind the Spree!?

 Sexy Weird 

Speaking of Spree... Can we talk Scylla now? First of all, what the hell is this girl’s timeline? When we first meet her, she’s a cadet (second year) in War College already, meaning she would’ve had to enlist on Conscription Day the year before Raelle. Yes? In Mother Mycelium, we see that she *might* (still don’t believe it) have been the person behind that first Spree attack on Conscription Day of this year (so when Raelle, Tally, and Abigail enlisted), so was she at Basic Training for an entire year before deciding to become Spree? Did she enlist knowing that she would eventually be Spree? Does this ever get addressed in the show?

Since we’re here, I might as well say there’s no way Scylla did that. I’ll never believe it. And I’m using my one semester of Greek Mythology in college to tell you why (who knew that class would eventually come in handy)

In My Witches, when Tally, Abigail, and Glory first meet Scylla, Tally makes it clear that ‘Scylla’ is a Greek name. Okay. Greek. Cool. Mythology. Let’s go. I already knew that Eliot Laurence doesn’t waste any minute of screen time when it comes to plot development and storytelling, so my meta brain did a little digging.

In Greek Mythology, Scylla was a sea-monster who haunted the rocks of a very narrow strait, opposite of the whirlpool of Charybdis. The monster’s purpose was to lead ships and boats towards the whirlpool, which was lethal to all who attempted to pass. Scylla was used to lure boats towards Charybdis, but was never meant for actually destroying them. Scylla was a fear tactic, not a murderous monster. In poetry, it’s often said that Scylla isn’t a monster at all, just born into a monstrous family. In conclusion (from my 4 months of Freshman-level Greek Mythology and a little refreshment on Google) I think Scylla is simply being used to lure people to the Spree, but not actually doing the mass-murdering that is being shown in the episode. 

What I do know is that Scylla Ramshorn is absolutely Amalia Holm. Mainly because I refuse to accept that Raelle is falling for the red head (sorry, red head). But also because at the end of the Pilot, when Scylla (in red head disguise) looked into the mirror, the balloon was her reflection, and it followed everything that she did. But in other scenes, when Scylla’s face is the normal Scylla face, she can see her own reflection. So the redhead girl is unimportant. Plus, IMDB says she never appears again this season... 

We Are The Spree 

As much as I hate to believe that Raelle’s mom (or Aunt!) is alive and leading the Spree, the connections between the two entities do add up. Both (Spree and Collar’s) are against the authority and power that the Witch Army has over populations of witches. They’re both against General Sarah Alder. I believe they both use spoken word magic rather than just vocalized magic. When the Spree carry out their attacks, they’re whispering words under their breath, not singing any song. Which is reminiscent of how the Collar’s do magic. Additionally, it would make sense as to why the Spree would want Scylla to bring them Raelle. And I still can’t get over the conversation between Raelle and Tally when Raelle explains her family’s combat charm. “A bowerbird’s foot. They love anything blue.”

Blue? Why. WHY. 

Maybe Willa Collar was captured by the Spree? Or the Aunt was? Or the Spree needs Raelle to heal someone? 

One last weird very unthought out theory goes with the other Biblical verse Raelle recites - Isaiah 43:2. “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.” The fact that all Spree attacks have happened with something to do water- in the snow, at the pool, on a cruiseship. And the fact that the last line of that verse is literally, “you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.” This type of witchcraft has to relate to how the Spree does magic. Right??

Now I’m re-talking myself into the fact that the Collar’s might be somehow leading Spree...

 But who’s ‘we’?

If the Collar’s are in charge of Spree then this next theory would actually check out. 

Anacostia has been a little more over-bearing with Raelle than any of the other girls. On multiple occasions, she’s said how Raelle is gifted. In fact, they all have. Even Abigail in Hail Beltane mentions that “Raelle didn’t go outside of canon, she’s naturally gifted.” They all know she’s gifted. It would make sense if the Collar’s were the ones running Spree, and that Anacostia, aka. General Alder’s head bitch, was sent to protect Raelle from ever joining them. Alder wants to capitalize on the powers that Raelle has, and keep them in the Witch Army. 

But I also think Anacostia could be playing General Alder. There have been too many times where she stares at Alder just a little bit too intently, and I can’t stop thinking that she might be in some sort of rebellious group too. Maybe a certain cell of Spree?

Because you can’t deny that Anacostia has also taken in interest in Scylla, particular to keep her away from Raelle. When Anacostia first caught them flying high on Salva, she told Scylla to stay away from Raelle, and it seemed as though she (tried) to use some sort of coercion magic while doing so. When Anacostia then saw them together at the Bellweather wedding, she almost sounded shocked, “I expressly told you to stay away from her.” Did Anacostia attempt coercion magic on Scylla and it didn’t work? And if she did, why didn’t it work?

That entire exchange felt odd yet familiar. Like the two have history. “Your name wouldn’t have been on the list. You’re not supposed to be here.” Particularly the “you’re not supposed to be here.” Did Anacostia know about the attack on the Bellweather’s? And did she think it would be threatened with Scylla there? Or did she know that Scylla was supposed to bring Raelle to the Spree at 6pm. And was sent to make sure Scylla never completed that task. 

I found it interesting that Anacostia was never seen fighting off the balloons like every other Witch was when they appeared. And her being at the actual wedding felt odd too. Especially if she’s General Alder’s right-hand (wo)man, because last time I checked, Alder and Petra Bellweather weren’t on the greatest terms. In fact, none of the General’s are on great terms with Alder. 

Since we’re now on Bellweather season...

Camarilla. No, not Carmilla.

There’s certainly a second threat in this show. And they were the ones behind the attack at the Bellweather’s. Not only has this already been proven by Jessica Sutton on Twitter (lols) but the clues were literally all there. They didn’t use any magic to fight. They had to use a mechanized sound machine to stop Abigail and Petra from using their powers. Then they covered themselves with gasoline and lit themselves on fire before the mother-daughter duo blew them away. It wasn’t Spree. But it was meant to look like Spree. And I think the balloons were simply a distraction, so all efforts and power would be outside fighting off the balloons while the civilian waiter’s could attack. 

But who is doing this?

It’s been brought up that there are alot of humans who don’t agree with the Witch Army that Alder leads. Even the President of the United States is hesitant about them. “You, too, are bound by rule of law to the will of the American people, who have elected me to represent their interests and protect them. Don’t you forget it. Or you may find yourself reminded.” Then Tally gets confronted later in that episode by a civilian who says, “It’s witches who are committing these attacks. It’s your kind of people .” And then even later in the series, there’s talk of a “growing debate in congress to revoke the Accord and disband the army.” So you could say there are definite opinions about this Army by civilians. 

In A Biddy’s Life, there’s a shot when Raelle and Scylla are in the room with weapons once used to kill witches. There’s an undeniably important shot of the Camarilla Scythe. Camarilla, itself, is defined as a small group of people acting as private advisers to a ruler or politician with a shared and nefarious purpose to carry out secret plots. 

Since civilians are the ones that are most opposed to the Witch Army, it makes sense that maybe the President, herself, is the one behind these attacks. She’s trying to take down the most Elite of the Witches (the Bellweather’s), hence inhibiting the Army from being as successful as it’s been in the past. And what better way than to kill the most elite witches of child-bearing age. 

While this theory checks out, I can’t help but to also think that Petra Bellweather could be behind the attacks. I know, it’s a stretch, (specifically because it’s her own family that’s being targeted) but I do love that ‘good powers, bad people’ trope. And what better way to make sure nobody questions your efforts if you’re the last one they’d suspect? Petra Bellweather has been itching to boot Alder from head witch honcho for awhile. Since killing Bellweather’s is the ultimate attack against witches, this would be a great strategy to showcase that Alder is inept in dealing with these enemies, creating a fall in power. And eventually, a rise in another. A Bellweather. 

Okay, I know what you’re all probably thinking. “So you’re saying that she wanted her own daughter killed!?” Not necessarily. When you watch Bellweather Season, and specifically the wedding scenes, they put an insane emphasis on timing. And I don’t believe that that’s just because of Scylla trying to get Raelle out of there by 6pm. When you watch the sequence back, the Bellweather Unit was supposed to be having their interview with the Dean of War College, starting at 5:30ish. If the interview took a good bit, say 30-45 minutes, this would strategically put Abigail not in the line of fire (aka Charvel’s room) at 6pm when they struck. 

But on the complete other hand, Abigail was supposed to be up with Charvel at that time helping her get ready. Meaning if it wasn’t Petra Bellweather, someone perfectly timed both Bellweather’s of childbearing age to conveniently be in the same place at the same time. 

Then the fact that Scylla was meant to leave with Raelle at 6pm (the exact moment the waiter’s and balloons struck), can’t go unnoticed. Did they want her to leave with Raelle at 6pm because the Spree knew about the attack? Did someone warn them? Does this explain why Anacostia was shocked to see Scyalla. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Why wasn’t she supposed to be there????

I’m just going to tap out of this theory now. 

But One More Thing

This might be a totally aggressive theory, and I have to credit the initial spark of this idea to my girlfriend, because during my 67th rewatch of this show, she brought up something I’d never thought of before. She asked me what Scylla’s purpose of attending the wedding was, and if the person she was supposed to bring to Penelope Road at 6pm really was Raelle? 

This got thinkING. What if it was someone else???

When you look back at all the times Scylla spends talking to her balloon mirror, they never actually say Raelle’s name. Sure, we’re meant to believe that Raelle is the obvious target. But what if that’s a cover?? What if she’s using Raelle to infiltrate something else and get to someone else??

It would make sense to use Raelle to target Abigail instead- an elite Bellweather. Like I said, this is a very unlikely theory but it would definitely be a shock to literally everyone (except my girlfriend apparently)...

Has the entirety of the show been leading us down a path to distract us from something else going on!? With every other ounce of brilliance here, I wouldn’t even doubt it.

In Conclusion

I went into this show expecting to be seen and represented as a queer woman, but what I actually got was so much more. What I got from this show is the realization that me being queer doesn’t have to have anything to do with me being a woman at all. My strength, and will, and mistakes, and growth, and grace, and support, and passion, are what make me a woman. Each of our stories are deserving enough to be told just because we are women.

I’ve struggled with that fact my entire life - my womanhood.

Femininity, feminism, and female empowerment are all things I’ve only recently connected with. I was raised in the culture of traditional gender roles. My dad went to work and my mom stayed home.  It’s not that I was necessarily taught that men and women must occupy those roles; it’s just that’s all I knew. To even further confuse my adolescent existentialism, not only was my mother a stay-at-home mom, she was also in the Marine Corps. And she never really understood the fact that not all women are as strong as she is.

My mom’s a badass, don’t get me wrong. She’s one of my hero’s. She came from a family who didn’t have much, and after realizing that she couldn’t afford to go to college, she enlisted instead. Six years later, she went to Penn State on a full-ride. She’s worked for every ounce of success that she’s seen, and she’s worked her ass off for it. But because of that, she struggles with the idea of feminism.

I can’t blame her too much. I understand the mindset she’s coming from. Growing up with that being instilled in my mind was hard though. Because it was expected that I, too, grow up to be a strong independent woman. 

I graduated in the predominantly male industry of agriculture (I want to be a farmer, okay!?). All through college, grad school, and post-grad school, I worked on farm after farm after farm. And it was there that I was introduced to the idea of toxic masculinity. I tolerated comments that I won’t even say out loud. I’ve “accidentally” been touched in more ways than I care to count. And what I hate the most about it all, is that I fucking tolerated it. I’d laugh it off, and then I’d walk away, mortified at what I’d actually just put up with. And while by no means do I blame my upbringing and home life on this, I do blame the upbringing and home life on the female characters I saw on television. If Brooke Davis was constantly and overly sexualized in high school then I guess I was supposed to, too. Right??

Sure, I still hear comments that I wish I didn’t. But I’m also surrounded by people and characters who taught me to never put up with the shit I once did. Female characters are portraying a storyline that people take more seriously now. They’re persevering. And that jumps off the screen in Motherland: Fort Salem. 

It’s taken me a while to realize how Raelle and Scylla have affected me as much as Clakre and Lexa did (two characters who literally awakened my sexuality). But I think I get it now. 

I love both Raelle and Scylla. Each one. Individually. As witches. As warriors. As females. As humans. As strong female characters. So, in a way, watching this show has awakened something else in me that I’ve also been suppressing all along. My femininity. My strength. My perseverance. 

Sure, Raelle and Scylla are my favorite ship right now, but it wasn’t them being together that made me fall in love with this show. Oddly enough, it was them being apart. It’s the fact that each one stands on her own as a unique and beautifully complicated story. And it’s the fact that I, too, am deserving of a beautifully complicated story.

Last Section, I Swear 

Motherland: Fort Salem is a magical mix of intense story building, relatable character development, and fascinating cinematography, all while being told through a gender and sexuality normative opposite of what we’re used to seeing. It’s a show that encompasses female strength unlike anything I’ve experienced before, where men are the background noise who aid in pushing the plot forward. It’s a show that deserves another season. And another and another and another and another. 

It’s a show I needed ten+ years ago, at 18 years old, freshly out of high school and wondering why the fuck I never had crushes on guys like everyone else my age did. It’s the show I needed so I didn’t always wonder why I was so obsessed with Peyton Sawyer and Summer Roberts and why I was the only one I knew who thought Torrance and Missy should’ve ended up together. It’s the show I needed to learn that my femininity doesn’t make me any less tough than my male counterparts. It’s the show I needed so I never put up with anyone’s shit. It’s the show I needed to teach me that I am storm and I am fury. 

It’s the show I needed then. But it’s also the show I’m so happy that I have now.

[caiminnent]

not designed for the cynical [kylux with side phasma/rey, rated T]

PROMPTS: communication suddenly cut off (@badthingshappenbingo​, 8/25) & bed sharing - pet - delivery (@kyluxxoxo​)

SUMMARY:

Whenever Snoke calls upon only Ren’s service, Hux sends word to all his relevant contacts that he’s available. The job offer he accepts turns out to be far more than he's bargained for.

(This is a low-key Inception AU that requires little to no knowledge of the movie.)

FANDOM: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

TAGS: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Sharing a Bed, Mutual Pining, Alternate Universe - Inception Fusion, except not really, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Related

NOTES: This was written mostly during commute and/or sleep-deprived within an inch of my life and edited under the same circumstances. As such, I don't have the faintest clue what this is, but I love it.

5K || ALSO ON AO3

Hux isn’t prone to worry.

He is prone to stress, and he’s got the blood pressure to prove it—but that’s a necessity of the life they lead. It’s got its uses. Worry, however, is for when you don’t have an alphabetised, colour-coded list of plans for every situation that may arise. Worry is for the under-prepared.

Worry is a waste of time.

Knowing this doesn’t stop the fist around his heart from squeezing tight every time he hits redial and finds Ren’s phone still switched off, however.

Then again, there’s no real reason to worry about it. It’s a perfectly Ren move to go off the radar for weeks on end and turn up three countries away from where he was supposed to be, shrugging off all reprimand like he can’t understand why they’re so angry about it. It’s just what he does—he disappears, then he shows up at your doorstep when you least expect it.

He will this time, too. He promised—he will be back by Hux’s birthday.

----------------

Contrary to the popular (re: Ren’s) belief, life doesn’t stop just because Ren is off doing what Ren does somewhere else.

Even with all the safe houses and personas they maintain all across the world, the unreasonable amounts of money Snoke throws at them to be at his beck and call is more than enough to keep them afloat. Ren would be fine with not taking another independent job ever again; but Hux knows better than to rely on Snoke alone. He’s been burned enough times by fickle employers; he’s not ready to bet on the wrong horse and have to build his reputation up from scratch yet again.

That’s part of why, whenever Snoke calls upon only Ren’s service, Hux sends word to all his relevant contacts that he’s available. It keeps him in the game, on the occasion he gets an offer worth considering—and if he doesn’t, he calls it getting a feel for the market and moves on.

Monday morning finds him curled on the sofa, going through the responses on his phone. Most offers he received are below his notice like he expected, some downright insulting—and then there’s the e-mail from Enric Pryde himself.

He sits up so fast he almost knocks over his empty cup.

Among the dreamshare community, the First Order is as revered as it is despised. They reach out to very few and pay three times what they should; but the cost of failure is equally severe, growing proportionately to the project’s worth. Which seems to be a lot, in this case. While he can’t tell from the sparse details in the e-mail whether this Project Starkiller is meant to be a moving city or some sort of weapon—perhaps both, knowing the First Order—he already estimates at least two layers, more likely three, and a special blend of stabiliser for the dreamer and the architect both, who cannot be the same person for this design.

Because they want him on board as the main architect and his dreams never hold steady after the first layer, special blend or no.

Whatever he was looking for as a quick job, this is not it. It’s far more involved and challenging than he could have imagined—and, he’s finding, everything he needed. He could do this for himself. He could work a job he enjoys, instead of running point to Ren or Phasma’s picks all the time to keep them from working with incompetent point men.

Ren and Phasma, who might be working with incompetent point men halfway across the world this very moment.

No. No, he’s not thinking that. His birthday is only three days away. Everything is fine.

----------------

He e-mails back to say he’s honoured and asks for one week to get his team together. Pryde gives him five days and a thinly-veiled warning that there are others who would jump at this opportunity.

Stomach at his feet, Hux throws his phone on the coffee table and gets up to make more tea.

----------------

As expected, research gives him little of substance about the First Order’s operations and nothing at all about the Starkiller, although he finds a low-quality close-up of Pryde to glare at as he sketches out some ideas. They will get binned once he gets his hands on the self-destructing dossiers or whatever ridiculous security protocols the First Order may work with; but it keeps him busy. Better than watching the hours tick by.

When the clock turns from 11:59 to midnight on what is now Thursday, he considers texting Rey to ask if she’s heard from Phasma recently—changes his mind before he even picks up the phone. Ren wouldn’t like it. Hux has been accused of being a control freak more times than he can count as it is; he doesn’t want to add clingy to the list of his unattractive qualities.

----------------

At two in the morning, the doorbell rings.

He is going to murder Ren.

The door had never felt so close or so far as he rushes to it, heart hammering in his chest. He’s going to let Ren in, he’s going to check him for injuries and he’s going to disembowel that infuriating, thoughtless, selfish piece of shite if he’s had Hux fret all this time for no reason—

“Hi,” Rey chirps, looking up at him with damp eyes and a brittle smile. She raises a bottle of whiskey—Phasma’s favourite. “Happy birthday?”

He opens the door wider.

----------------

Admittedly—not out loud; he would never hear the end of it, from her or her cousin—Rey scores high on the short list of people whose company he enjoys. The booze helps, too. They drink in front of the television Hux hasn’t switched off in days and talk about everything but the aching holes in their chests.

She falls asleep on the sofa. He puts a blanket over her and goes to bed.

----------------

In the morning—practically afternoon, if he’s being honest—he tells her about the Starkiller. The plan was to pitch it to Ren first, to see what he thinks before bringing in the others. As it is, Ren isn’t here and none of Hux’s messages has gone through since their interrupted conversation and Hux is going to bloody explode if he doesn’t tell someone.

“I’m not sure, Armie,” she says around a spoonful of breakfast cereal he certainly didn’t buy. “He will never agree to work for the First Order.”

“Why the hell not? He works for Snoke.” Rather happily, in fact. Ren never prepares more carefully for a job than one of Snoke’s plentiful errands, no matter how simple. “Why wouldn’t he work for Snoke’s own company?”

She considers him for a long moment, chewing slowly. “He hasn’t told you the story.”

The implication—accusation—stings deep. “What story?” he demands, pushing his tea away to lean closer. The words held the intonation of capital letters, which means missing information that could potentially blindside them down the line. His respect for Ren’s private business isn’t greater than his responsibilities.

“Not mine to tell,” she says sternly, pinching her lips in disappointment like he should be ashamed to have asked to begin with. “Ask him.”

He snorts. Ren is hardly the sharing type, especially where Hux is concerned. Everything he’s ever learned about Ren has come through other means—and vice versa, he imagines.

She frowns, a question rising behind her eyes. He tenses on instinct. “Anyway,” she continues, shaking her head—and he can breathe more easily again. “My point is, if we’re doing this, we’ll need another forger.”

We. He doesn’t suppress his smile, relief coating his insides. “I suspect we won’t need a forger for this one. A chemist, on the other hand…”

----------------

She doesn’t leave and he doesn’t ask her to. They polish off the whiskey and pretend not to check their phones every ten minutes while binge-watching Star Wars, including the newest releases even their resident space nerd couldn’t finish.

He visualises Ren’s horrified expression when Hux reveals how he and Rey bonded over their shared love for big guns and hot villains in Ren’s absence. Laughter gets stuck in his throat, forming a painful lump instead.

He bids her good night and slinks away into his bedroom to stare at the ceiling.

Barely ten minutes pass before the television switches off in the next room, soft footsteps echoing lightly in the corridor. He turns his back to the door and feigns sleep as it opens and closes—which is a coward’s way, but he’s never claimed to be a particularly brave man. If he were, he would have asked Ren to stop working for Snoke instead of stewing in his misery right now.

Compared to her cousin, Rey’s weight barely shifts the mattress as she climbs in, sliding under the covers without fanfare. He shuts his eyes tighter and allows himself to imagine, just for a moment, that Ren is back.

“I haven’t heard from Phasma in over a month.”

Over a month? Hells, no wonder she sought him out. “Ren and I talked two weeks ago,” he says—realises with a sinking feeling that it sounded like he was rubbing it in. “Closer to three, actually.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much that I could understand. The reception was horrible.” Bits and pieces through constant breaking: Hux, shit, in case, person and, inexplicably, home. “I didn’t get the impression they were in danger—just inconvenienced.” As is often the case with these missions. Snoke’s got a small army of trained private security under his command and he still sends Ren to the most out-of-the-way places.

That Snoke’s hired Phasma as well for this one is a little more concerning, but not overly so. Reckless as they both can be, Ren and Phasma are forces to be reckoned with on the field—Hux would be more inclined to feel sorry for their adversaries.

Rey sighs. “Hope you’re right, Armie.”

----------------

If Mitaka is surprised to see Rey strut about in Hux’s shortest joggers she still needed to fold at the ankles and an old shirt, he politely doesn’t mention it. He and Rey exchange banal pleasantries over coffee and day-old cake while Hux finishes typing up his notes, then they get to work.

Mitaka listens to the briefing with unwavering attention, his fingers stapled in front of him like a front-row student. Like everyone else in their extended team, Mitaka is an experienced, accomplished dreamer—and yet, Hux can’t help looking at him and seeing the fresh-faced cadet Phasma had dragged in ages ago, barely into his twenties and all the more naive for it.

They’ve gotten old—Hux most so.

Once Hux finishes, “If you both are building this time,” Mitaka starts, looking between the two. “Who will be taking point? The Captain?”

Next to him, Rey inhales sharply, her face mostly hidden behind the curtain of her hair. Shame crosses through Mitaka’s face at the realised misstep.

“She’s otherwise occupied,” Hux responds before Mitaka can break into apologies. No need to make this more painful or awkward than it needs to be. “I will be running point as usual, and Rey is here to help with the heavy-lifting.”

Mitaka nods, glancing at Rey with concern before turning to Hux fully. “Where do I sign?”

----------------

They sign a heavily-encrypted stack of documents digitally, sending them through the First Order’s own communication system. The next day, they receive a link to a private cloud service with a convoluted unlock sequence that can be accessed by one device at a time, read-only.

Hux alone works on three different devices.

On the bright side, the project they receive is well-worth the inconvenience. Their objective is to design and build a superweapon out of an extensively described ice planet in the dreamspace, which must be capable of hitting five targets simultaneously and obliterating all affected life forms on them without causing a single non-predetermined casualty. Controlled chaos, if you will. The First Order wants a catastrophe they can tame and leash.

Hux can make it happen.

Whether he can make it happen in eight weeks is a different question entirely.

----------------

Without Ren to drag him away from work, he’s free to divide his waking hours between his screens and the sitting room, which they repurposed into a workshop-slash-dream den. While Hux is a decent architect in a pinch, he could never build the way Rey does—the way she bends the dreamspace to her will and creates cities that feel alive around them. Between the two of them, they have the groundwork laid out within days, quickly moving on to revising the base design according to the specifications in the main file and the numbers Hux runs.

Instead of using pre-mixed batches, Mitaka mixes their Somnacin from scratch on the kitchen table, reworking the formula per the reactions. None he comes up with works to keep Hux’s dreams steady, although a couple seem to ground his control over the dreamspace. Most just turn the dreams into nightmares for everyone involved.

Many of the nightmares are about Ren. Every time they manage to wake up from one of those, he looks at Rey to apologise. She never meets his eyes.

----------------

Unlike the two of them, Mitaka has family to return to and so he does when it gets late, leaving them to eat take-away and talk around the elephant in the room. On the rare occasion they do talk. Even though Hux gets the most shit for his workaholic tendencies, they all are guilty of it in different degrees; most nights are spent hunched over desks or tablets until they come close to shooting each other over the smallest noise or mistake, then they retire for the night.

The bedroom is where the worst fears come out.

“They might need our help,” she murmurs, lowly enough that the words could get lost among the howling wind outside. “They might be injured or—or lost, waiting for rescue. And we would be here arguing about heat transfer.”

“They aren’t.”

“But how do you know?”

He sighs loudly, turning to face Rey. Her eyes are big and eerily bright in the darkness, shining. “Look, Ren and I have been through this before. We’ve got contingencies in place for any kind of emergency—strategies to scarper and regroup as needed, fake identities with paper trail, codes to slip into lines of communication that will find their way to the other’s ear—all of which tied to systems that would alert us both if ever used. So far?” He gestures vaguely to his phones on the nightstand. “Complete radio silence.”

“Well it might be because he’s—”

His stomach lurching, “Don’t,” he bites out. He’s had enough nights contemplating that possibility himself, reasoning himself out of that line of thinking with more effort each time; he can’t handle someone else saying it.

Especially not Rey, whose unfailing optimism has seen them through many a dark spot.

“They will be back soon,” he says with conviction he forces himself to feel. They always do. This is just taking longer than expected.

Rey’s silence rings in the room.

----------------

At the end of the third week, Enric Pryde reaches out to him. His voice is as cold and serpent-like as he looks.

They talk for two and a half minutes—more accurately, Pryde relays his demands for two minutes and rebuffs Hux’s protests for the next half, then hangs up unceremoniously on him.

Fuming, Hux tries to glare a hole into his phone for about as long before going to wake Rey up.

----------------

“What do you mean, they are relocating us?”

Latching his fingers tight to keep from scraping at his already raw palms, “I mean exactly what I said,” Hux grinds out. “They want to move us into some safe house where they will provide us with everything we’ll need for the rest of the project. We don’t have the option to refuse their generosity.”

“They want to monitor us,” Mitaka says on the other end of the line, ever fond of pointing out the obvious. “Can they do that?”

“Would you like to be the one to tell them they can’t?” Hux shakes his head. They are not small fish; but the First Order is big enough to swallow them whole and not suffer for it. He knows to pick his fights. “If you’d like to drop off the face of the earth, now is the time.”

Rey snorts—as much of an answer as Mitaka’s bitter laughter.

“Well,” Rey says, scraping her chair back. “I should pack some clean underwear. When are they coming to get us?”

“As we speak.”

----------------

Before they leave, they make sure to sketch out First Order insignias on every available place. Just in case.

----------------

The safe house is, for all intents and purposes, a veritable villa in the middle of nowhere.

“A little excessive,” Mitaka comments as they tour the place, noting the bolted down furniture and darkened windows, locked conspicuously on the outside. The cupboards and the fridge are well-stocked enough to keep them fed for several months.

There is no mobile coverage.

In fact, there is no wireless connection of any sort. The multitude of devices strewn about in the house are all connected to the First Order’s own network and communications system, which provides access to every archive they might need for the project and nothing else.

The dread coiled in Hux’s guts grows heavier.

So much for his alert systems.

----------------

Progress is much faster with so much information at their fingertips.

Hux is envious of the berths of the First Order databases. Effective as his own methods of gathering intelligence are, his network couldn’t hope to have the same reach as a well-funded PMC—which he could have been a part of, had he not gone freelance instead of corporate after leaving the military.

The idea is tempting, still. He’s ruined for the civilian workforce—has been since childhood, with a father like General Brendol Hux was—but he seeks the structure and order that comes with being part of an organisation. Under different circumstances, he may have considered applying to the First Order after this project.

As their prisoner in everything but name, he wants little more than to be as far away from them as possible.

----------------

Everything they’ll need doesn’t involve a private chef or buffet, but it involves private delivery people who pick up whatever they want, no matter what they want, in a timely fashion. Because they are spiteful opportunists, they order the most extravagant and unreasonable meals they can think of. The food always arrives hot.

Hux marks the potential restaurants for each food item and how long it took to arrive on a small map every time. Just in case.

----------------

Sleeping in the same bed while Mitaka is in the next room feels too awkward, so they don’t. They don’t sleep much in general, either—not with the question of how to power a machine of the Starkiller’s scale without it overheating hanging heavy over their heads. Dreamshare mechanics are a lot more forgiving than their real-world counterparts; if they can’t pull it off down there, they sure as hell won’t make it work topside.

They have to make it work topside, they now know. The First Order wouldn’t have poured so much money and resources into what is merely Pryde’s pet design project.

“They probably have people looking into it,” Rey says, spinning her pen around her fingers with smugness dripping from her expression. He’s not petty enough to dare her to replicate it in the real world, but the thought is there. “Some super high-tech R&D division working on preventing a weapon of mass-destruction from exploding instead of, like, climate change.”

Watching her fingers like the secrets of the universe lie between them, “I don’t think so,” Mitaka responds. “It’s too much of a commitment. I bet they just wait for someone else to figure it out, then steal the designs from them.”

Something flares at the back of Hux’s mind like static, a connection he doesn’t want to make forcing itself into his awareness.

He shakes his head hard to clear it. Even with the dilation, he doesn’t have the time to dwell on things he’s got no control over.

“If you two are quite done gossiping,” he cuts in, smoothing over the blueprints in front of him for effect. “We’ve got work to do.”

----------------

We’re going to take something someone else worked very hard for, was all Ren had said the night before his departure—the only time Hux dared ask about his new job, once it became apparent Ren wasn’t going to say a word about it on his own. It’s such a non-answer that Hux couldn’t tell if Ren wanted to leave him space for plausible deniability or simply didn’t want to tell him.

He still can’t. As a matter of fact, he can’t say for sure Snoke’s job and this project are connected, either; all he’s got is a hunch.

A hunch he desperately wants to see proven wrong.

----------------

Mitaka’s newest blend is the most successful yet. They go down as far as the third level with only minor tremors under their feet—a huge leap of progress, after weeks of the ground swallowing them up whole.

Knowing better than to push their luck, they call it an early night and celebrate by ordering a feast they’ll have to take their time with. With the dinner table and every other horizontal space that could reasonably hold food covered in their work, they sprawl about the sofa set that hasn’t seen nearly enough use over their involuntary stay.

Once their food arrives and Rey realises what he ordered, a soft look crosses over her face. He ignores it. There’s only one place that serves Ren’s favourite food; it makes for a good reference point on his map. It’s not sentimental if it’s also practical.

----------------

He knew, from a logical standpoint, that having access to communication systems meant people could communicate with them and vice versa. On account of the fact that Pryde and the delivery people are the only ones to use it, he didn’t particularly care.

When the name Blysma pops up on the main screen, he realises what a gross oversight that was.

Heart at his throat, he accepts the request with shaking hands, grateful that no one is awake to see him like this. “Hux speaking.”

“Hello, Hux.”

Oh.

Oh, the ever-loving—

“Don’t say my name,” Ren adds quickly, as if he sensed that Hux was about to curse his name six ways to Sunday. “Or any other names. They don’t actively monitor your communications, but we’re pretty sure some keywords are flagged. Best not to take any chances.”

“We,” he repeats dumbly. So many questions are buzzing in his head that he doesn’t know which should take priority. “You and—ah, our mutual terrifying friend?”

Phasma’s melodic laughter rings through the other end of the line. Hux’s heart soars.

“Yeah,” Ren says, a little breathy. “Yes, we’re both here. And fine. The job ran late. Where the fuck are you?”

About that… “I don’t actually know,” he admits, the truth of it settling dark and deep into his gut. Trying to map out their location left him with more questions than answers. “Near the ocean. Far north of the city, I think; but we shouldn’t have crossed any borders.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down,” Ren says.

Irritation rising in him, “We were hardly given a tour guide for the road,” he snaps. You should have been there to take notes, is on the tip of his tongue—he swallows the words. Ren is here now, in a way. They’ve found Hux and the others. The insignias must have pointed them in the right direction; but figuring out how to contact Hux through the First Order’s own systems? That’s all their doing.

Taking a long breath to calm himself down, “How did you contact us anyway?” he asks.

“By calling in more favours than your sorry life is worth,” Phasma says, amusement lingering in her tone. He has never been happier to hear her mocking drawl. “So you had better give us something concrete to work with before we decide to leave you to rot there.”

Racking his brain, he takes a deep breath to ground himself. He’s got to focus. However Ren and Phasma managed to get into the First Order’s systems, they are unlikely to remain unnoticed for long. He needs to make the most of it.

The answer is so simple, he wants to smack himself upside the head.

“At noon, we will place an order for three servings of Bivoli tempari from the Hosnian. Track whoever is delivering it. They should lead you to us.”

----------------

He doesn’t tell the others about it. For one, he’s not fully sure his stress-addled brain didn’t make up the whole interaction—for another, they have a check-in with Pryde scheduled at 3, during which they’re going to disappoint him again with their lack of progress regarding the overheating issue. They are on thin ice as it is; he can’t take a gamble on the quality of the others’ poker faces and risk attracting Pryde’s suspicion.

At exactly noon, he contacts the delivery people and relays the order. In his periphery, Mitaka and Rey share a look.

Once he takes his seat again, “I thought the Hosnian was eat-in only,” Rey says.

Hux shrugs. “They said everything you’ll need.”

----------------

He orders something different from the Hosnian at the same time for the next four days, just in case. Mitaka is too polite to protest, despite the cuisine clearly not agreeing with him.

Rey eyes him suspiciously every time but says nothing, waiting for him to come to her instead of forcing an explanation out of him. He appreciates it more than he can put into words. He can only hope she understands.

----------------

Dying in an explosion ten times in a row tends to throw a wrench in group morale.

Unwilling to kill themselves just to wake up in the safe house, they wordlessly agree to wait out the timer. The burnout has settled deep onto their bones; Pryde’s implicit threats after every check-in don’t help their mental state, either. If Ren and Phasma hadn’t made contact, Hux might have considered taking his chances with a desperate escape attempt instead of sticking around to see what punishment the First Order would dole out for their inevitable failure. It might prove the better end, at any rate.

“I am going back to my children after this,” Mitaka says with more conviction than Hux has been able to muster up about anything in months. “I don’t care what happens. I don’t care if they kill me for it—I won’t die without seeing my family again.”

“We are not dying,” Hux reassures him. With three real-world seconds to the scheduled kick, he explains everything—Ren and Phasma making contact, the bare-bones of the plan and Blysma’s carefully vague progress update texts, the precautions they’re taking to keep Mitaka’s family safe should something go wrong.

Mitaka cries silent, happy tears at the news. Rey gives Mitaka a warm smile and pulls him close.

“That’s it,” she tells Hux, rubbing at Mitaka’s arm in sympathy. “I’m not letting her take a job without me ever again.”

Raising a brow, “You would be announcing to everyone in the community that she’s the best leverage against you,” he points out, not unkindly. He understands the sentiment—truly, he does—but it’s woefully impractical. Not to mention the kind of commitment it would take.

Her eyes gleam, smile turning secretive in that way he’s learned not to trust. Reaching into her pocket with her free hand, “I was already going to do that,” she says airily, taking out a small, velvet box.

Ah. Fair enough, then.

----------------

Hux is above lying to his employers.

Rather, he likes to think he is. Dreamshare, sophisticated as it may be at its heart, is an underground science—as such, it attracts a certain crowd. In a community where lying through one’s teeth is a survival skill, Hux knows to look someone in the eye and spin a tale truer than the truth as well as the next crook; he just prefers to tell the truth as long as it will leave his head connected to his body.

As it happens, this is the last scheduled check-in before the deadline. Giving Pryde bad news now would be signing their death warrant.

When Hux reports their success, Pryde smiles. The sight haunts Hux’s nightmares for days.

----------------

Blysma’s communication request comes the night before the grand plan, unscheduled.

His mind racing with possibilities, he grabs the tablet sitting on his nightstand before the notification wakes the others, accepting the request with, “Hux speaking.” As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing left to talk about. Phasma has already laid out all she could of the plan without tipping off the First Order; a recap now would do more harm than good.

If this is about a last-minute change—well. Adaptability is another survival skill in their line of work.

“I missed your birthday.”

Hux blinks at the screen in his hands. “I—yes.” By a couple of months, at this stage. Where did that come from? Surely Ren didn’t realise it only now? “If you contacted me to wish me a happy belated birthday…”

“Of course not. I—uh, I called to hear your voice.” Hux’s lungs tighten, all too aware of his heartbeat. “Since we never finished our conversation.”

Their conversation. The handful of words Hux has been turning over in his head for months, to no apparent meaning or answer.

He’s bloody desperate to ask and finally, finally find out; but they’ve waited this long. They can be patient a little longer. “This is neither the time nor the place,” Hux says, as gently as he’s able, biting down on the instinctive Ren at the end. Now would be the absolute worst time for a slip-up. “Whatever it was, you can tell me tomorrow. In person.”

“That’s just it,” Ren mutters. “The last time I tried to tell you, we kept getting cut-off until signal completely went away and I thought, it’s fine. I’ll be back in a few days, I’ll just tell him then. In person.” He laughs, a breathy, bitter sound. “But then…”

But then Ren couldn’t get back until a few weeks after—and when he did, Hux wasn’t there anymore.

He clears his throat to get out the lump lodged there. “Then you’ll just have to be there this time,” he says firmly—his point man voice. “Because I will be, and I won’t accept any excuses.”

After a long beat, “Yes, sir,” Ren says, a smile in his voice. “See you on the other side.”

“Sleep well.”

[head-hopping]

What’s In a Name...

As the paved road wound through the Florence countryside, a sole car took its turns smoothly, only the purr of the Maserati engine filling the interior. Three young girls, all about thirteen in age, canted to the side window behind the passenger casting occasional smiling glances at the man driving. The car hadn’t been silent since they left the city itself, but the moment they’d turned off the main highway, onto the drive leading off the main path, an almost reverent hush fell over the car, brimming with barely contained excitement.

One girl in particular, whose auburn curls were bound in a brightly colored scrunchie, practically pressed her face to the window glass, the fog of her breathing spreading and vanishing along under her nose and mouth.

At the mere peek of white stone flashing through the trees, one of the other girls gasped, swatting her arm. “Look! Look!”

“Yeah, I see it, geez!” she complained, but there wasn’t any bite in her tone at all. No, she was too consumed with not blinking in case the missed the sudden full appearance of the villa as they finally took a final turn, slipping from the tree cover. A curved drive spread before them, standing old guard before the slightly faded face of the wide structure. “Oh man…” she breathed, now her hands pressed to the glass as her dad slowed along the gravel driveway, eventually coming to a stop in front of the now empty home.

“People would live here?” one of the other girls asked, in utter awe. “It’s so big!”

“Um, hello,” the dark-headed girl scoffed, flicking a careless glare over her shoulder, as if everyone should know this. “They had staff and vineyards and stuff. It wasn’t just the main family who lived here, but a bunch of other people too. Right, Mama?”

The woman hummed an affirmation, but any further explanation was lost as the car doors audibly unlocked. “Girls, mind the gardens in the back!” the woman called over the spill of gangly limbs all trying to unbuckle and clamor out the same door at the same time. “They haven’t been tended in a while! Rosa!”

“I hear you, Mama!” the girl called, though she hardly paused as the giggling trio rushed towards the massive front doors waiting up the steps.

---

“Wow, Rosa…” Stella muttered to herself. The girls, once the front door was unlocked, had all but flew through the foyer to explore, eventually ending up in a ballroom that appeared long out of use. Some hints of renovation could be seen, and even some left-behind boards lay against the wall, untouched probably for years. The chandelier that once hung in this room had been sold a long time ago, apparently by Rosa’s great-uncle in order to pay off some sort of debt. Course, she didn’t know what it’d been, but she quietly wished she could have seen this room in the height of its use. Pretty ladies in dresses and handsome fellows in suits, drinking fancy drinks and chatting, some dancing. Maybe even something bad had happened here, like a fight.

After all, the distant DiRusso side of the family, now apparently long-gone, hadn’t been up to much good back in those days.

“Wow,” Stella muttered again, now standing at the back ballroom doors leading to a balcony outside, where much of the family property stretched, now somewhat overgrown. “This place is so pretty.”

Rosa bumped her sneakered foot against the door frame, but the balcony was still locked, so all they could do from here was look out through dirty glass. “If you think this is great, you should see that cottage out in the woods,” she sniffed, reaching up to tighten her ponytail. “It’s where like, one of my great-great uncles stayed for a while after World War One, I think. Something like that. Anyway, it’s kept in better condition last I remember.”

“I thought your mama said the last time you came here was when you were three,” Angela intoned, shooting Rosa an almost withering sort of look, like she was telling her stories yet again.

Rosa only shrugged. That much was true, though. Last time she came here, she was three, and her great-grandmother had been about to die. But that didn’t mean she was clueless. “Have you seen our family tree records? No. Great-grandma put together this huge family history. Even some stories of what happened.”

Stella turned wide, gullible eyes on Rosa, practically begging to hear something interesting—or romantic. “Like what?”

“Well—”

“Oh, here we go.”

“Look,” Rosa snapped, though Angela didn’t seem all that phased by the glare, but rather snorted at her best friend. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here if all you’re gonna do is poke fun at my history.”

Angela pressed her lips together and pivoted away, but both she and Rosa secretly smirked over the whole thing while Stella looked on with a touch of concern.

“Anyway,” Rosa sighed, flapping her hand in the air. “Let’s see what we can find out back.”

---

“So what were you gonna say before?” Stella asked, sounding just as eager as before. She trailed alongside Angela while Rosa teetered along an old wall partly surrounding one of the old winepresses on the property. This whole visit, one Rosa begged to go on, was so her dad could examine the older buildings and see what he could do to restore them. Being an architect sort of ran in the family, and there were plenty to be found in some degree all through her family tree—at least, it started up about four or five generations ago.

Rather than just sell the property, or hand over the manor to the local government to make a museum, Papa wanted to try his hand at sorting things out on his own. To him, it just didn’t seem right to pass on the place just yet, even if they lived in the city.

“Say what about before?” Rosa asked, wheeling her arms a bit when she momentarily lost her balance. The wall wasn’t all that tall…but it was also kinda old, so she had to be careful. And make sure Mama didn’t see her up here.

“About the stories!” Stella insisted, her laugh a touch nervous for insisting so much. “You said there’s a whole bunch of them about your family.”

“Uh. Yeah.” Rosa hopped off the wall, tripping a bit when she landed, but she just brushed the dirt off her hands when she stood up again. “Like…the time when apparently this whole fight happened over like a great-great-great-grandmother that happened hundreds of years ago or something. Can you imagine it? The guy shows up and is all ‘NO, you’re not marrying him, you’re marrying ME’ and I dunno, maybe someone got shot.” She sounded so flippant that Stella actually looked distressed.

“But…that’s so romantic,” she breathed, hands clasped tight and pressing against her heart.

Snorting, Rosa tugged her denim jacket off her shoulders and tossed it over the wall, her shirt collar a bit off center as she propped hands on her hips. “I’m with Angela on this one, Stella. It’s probably not even true. I bet the real story is so boring and bland.”

“Mhm,” Angela added from where she crouched, prodding with a stick after she’d upturned a loose stone in the walkway. “Booooring. Didn’t happen. I bet it was all arranged. They did that all the time back then.”

“Can you imagine!” Rosa threw her arms up. “Being stuck with some gross dude for the rest of your life? I. Don’t even like boys. They’re gross.”

Even Angela lifted up from her inspection to toss Rosa a disbelieving look and rolled her eyes. “Sure, Rosa. Because I didn’t see you kiss that American guy on the cheek the other day. He was only in school for a day.”

Rosa tossed her head a bit, a haughty sort of expression of neither denial nor admitting anything all over her slender little form. “Anyway, like I said, who knows about that one. But we do know that’s probably about the time that the property changed hands, in a way. By a bunch of legal records and whatever. Bottom line is, this place has been in the family for yeeeeeears.”

A sudden call caught all of their attention. Rosa’s mama, probably in the overgrown garden area, calling for all of them to leave. Stella expressed her disappointment only with a sigh, but Angela pushed to her feet and wiped off her hands.

“Time to go! But we should come back again, I think. Once your dad’s gotten a lot of work done here. This would be an awesome winter home.”

“Maybe,” Rosa shrugged, starting off back towards the house, the two of them following along. “He hasn’t decided anything yet. But…I hope he does decide to keep it.”

As they made their way along the house, Rosa stopped suddenly, turning back to run and get her jacket draped over the winepress wall, telling her friends to go on ahead without her. On the way back, though, she spotted another small building sitting off to the side, jutting out from just beyond yet another section of gardens. Curiosity got the better of her, despite knowing she needed to hurry, and she followed a dark, overgrown path to a small white building that might have once been pretty. Looking around, she froze upon seeing the grave markers in the ground, going back around to the other side of the small building. Despite how creepy that was, Rosa shuffled a little closer. Trying to read whatever was carved above the locked doors. But instead she startled so badly that she yelped.

“Rosalinda Barozzi!”

And that sounded like her dad. She darted off, forgetting all about the mausoleum for now.

The name above the locked doors of which, in bold script, read BAROZZI even though the structure stood among the much older graves, all of which instead carried either names too marred to read, or the faded last name DiRusso.

Hidden mostly by the flowered vines now well overgrown, yet still readable if the greenery was pushed aside, was the script carved in a more flowing nature:

Per il campione, chi è l'amore.

[danvssomethingorother]

Success in Progress

chapter 1

A03

Summary: Brock gets invited to Venture compound by Jonas himself to protect his son.

(yes this thing has a name now and I am in too deep. I hope you all love my weird ideas for the origin of this man we saw for five seconds. I just love successful Rusty, ok?) 

---

 The tour was just for show, the safe version you showed dying kids whose last wish was just to see the Venture Compound because they loved Rusty Venture so much. All the secrets and interesting stuff safely locked up, out of sight and if you wanted to see more, Jonas’s dazzling show man smile and the flare he gave to the mundane things everyone knew about was all it took to get you to shut up.

Brock sat in the very back of the people mover keeping his eyes on Venture’s heir, quietly sitting there every once in awhile turning towards the albino and opening his mouth as if to say something but remaining quiet when his father glanced his way.  

The only one eating up Jonas’s show and bullshit facts was Billy who was even asking questions and excitedly trying to tell Jonas and Rusty fun facts he had heard about their own compound.   

Brock took this time to take in the security measures silently taking notes for him to check it out more later.

After what felt like hours of being on a tour from hell, Brock noticed the albino sleeping soundly against Rusty’s shoulder. Rusty was annoyedly trying to knock him off but stopped moving each time his dad’s eyes hit him.

He only found some strength in himself to complete the task after they came to a stop by a building that definitely wasn’t intended for the public to ever enter. Pete scowled at the rude awakening but seeing Jonas’s eyes on the pair, didn’t attempt anything on his son.

“This, gentlemen, shall be our working quarters,” Jonas said easily stopping the people mover and stepping out, “I apologize it is so far out, I would usually just use the down stairs lab for something like this but with the Spinx threats and the recent fire, I felt we needed a more secure place for a project so important.”

“Fire?” Billy questioned just as alarmed as Brock himself was at this news.

“Yeah my last body guard went crazy and tried to burn us alive,” Rusty said with a shrug, crawling over his friend who wasn’t getting out of the vehicle fast enough for his liking.

Pete, who had seemed like he was on the up and up of Venture history looked surprised by this, sitting there a moment longer before Rusty and Billy whined for him to hurry up.

Brock trailed behind them listening to the history lesson for once on this building. It was fire proof, he had been using it as a fall out bunker of sorts for his most prized inventions Jonas didn’t wish to be destroyed by any of the sieges on the castle.

The first floor was for show, filled with junk from the Rusty Venture show Jonas had collected over the years instantly brightening up Billy’s mood once more. Jonas chuckled and told him he could take what he liked later, but now there was science to be done.

Jonas popped open a trap door at the end of the room and disappeared down it, Rusty didn’t hesitate to do the same. His friends however stood nervously looking at each other before glancing back down into the dark tunnel leading only god knew where.

“After you Billy,” White said with a smile extending his hand towards the entrance.

“No way, this is reminding me way too much of the time Jonas’s brain was taken over by pod people who were trying to steal everyone’s brains. This is a trap.”

“Its not a trap, you are being a big wuss, its just a scary hole in the ground in a junk garage.”  

“Dude, this is all first edition merch from the Rusty Venture show, its far from junk! And if you aren’t scared, you go down there!”

“I am going to toss you down there if you don’t hurry up,” Brock snarled at Billy and Pete who instantly stopped bickering, Pete disappearing first while Billy took a nervous glance at Brock before he too disappeared. Brock was the last down, quickly scaling his way down the secure rung ladder.

“What took you so long,” Rusty sneered at them as they finally caught up to the Ventures in what appeared to be a normal looking lab, but normal labs were never this hidden from the public. Something about all of this just wasn’t sitting right with Brock as he stepped towards the nerds gathering around Jonas who was by a white board fiddling with some equations while he waited for them all to catch up.

Written at the top of the Board was the title ‘Problem Light’ and under it was a crude rough sketch of a box with a red eye in the center.

“Excuse us for being a little nervous of the weird secret lab,” Pete scoffed playfully punching his friend in the arm before leaning close to Rusty and whispering as if Brock couldn’t hear him, “What is with the secrecy anyway? This illegal? Should we be letting that fella in here?”

“It may be frowned upon later but its hardly illegal,” Jonas chuckled.

“You, um haven’t been to the Amazon lately have you?” Billy asked nervously wringing his hands.

“No brain slugs up here,” Jonas chuckled lightly tapping his own head, “No this is a safety precaution because of Spinx and of course the Guild or anymore unexpected fires. This is so nothing destroys our progress and makes us have to restart our work.”

“And even if it was illegal, I would permit Brock down here, he is here to help keep you three safe and safety is the most important thing.”

Rusty snorted at that but said nothing.  

“So, um…what are we going to be working on?” Pete asked leaning up against the counter nearly knocking some glass vials on the floor making Brock snort, it didn’t seem like safety was that important since Jonas just chuckled at that and didn’t scold him.

“We are going to work together to put a stop to something that has been plaguing man kind since the beginning.”

“A cure for Cancer?” Billy ventured a guess.

“Bad hair days,” Pete joked nudging at Rusty who swatted back at him.

“While those are equally as bad,” Jonas said with a bit of an eye roll and shake of his head, “I was talking about death itself. A way to put a stopper on it before it can take the best and brightest minds away from us before they can really make progress on the world.”  

“And how we gonna do that? That seems pretty impossible,” Billy said finally showing some good skepticism in the man.

“Everything seems impossible at first, but great men like us have always been able to find a way to beat the odds.”

He turned towards them with a smile that would make any weak-willed person sway to it, his words promising anything was possible. Well, he was Jonas Venture, he had done some impressive feats in the past, so why wouldn’t these idiots just take everything he said at face value?

Rusty didn’t seem to share their new-found enthusiasm as Jonas began rambling about his little ideas and being generous enough to allow participation from the rest of the class.

Jonas had introduced this as Rusty’s project, yet he seemed to have very little say or control over it, constantly being talked over by his dad and just standing back and letting him talk finally.

Brock would have been more concerned with that if Rusty’s ideas didn’t seem utterly stupid, even to someone like Brock who barely knew anything about science.

----

After a long day of Brock just standing in the back of the room and watching a bunch of nerds spit ball ideas, Jonas finally lead them all to the living quarters and it seemed even here secrets were hidden. On opening the door, Brock picked up the faint sound of babies crying and Rusty pushed past both Brock and his father, both glaring at their charge, as he instantly ran up the stairs.

“Rust is a daddy,” Pete said with a giggle at Brock’s confused state, “Little baby twins. Little boy adventurers in the making.”

“I did not want my grandchildren on his files,” Jonas said after not so gently ushering Billy through the door, “The higher ups of course know but it is listed as classified until I choose to reveal them to the world. I fear I revealed Rusty himself too early in my excitement and that caused nothing but problems down the line.”  

Brock thought that was an understatement, Rusty’s first kidnappings was at three and according to his files, was nearly sacrificed on a satanic alter by one of Jonas’s ex-girlfriends. Whether or not that ex was Rusty’s own mother, Brock didn’t know, his mother’s identity was also classified.

“I trust Rusty set you two up in your quarters last night?” Jonas asked turning a serious look towards the scientists looking ready to tear his son a new one if he hadn’t.

“Oh yeah, Rust showed us our room, but it doesn’t seem like there will be enough room for this fella since Kano and that other guy live here too.”

“Rodney is moving out,” Jonas said with a chuckle, “I am sure Billy was happy to see Action Man before he retired from Team Venture.”  

“Billy got him to sign his autograph book,” Pete chuckled walking over to the couch and making himself at home, “Ya better watch out Jonas, he will be trying to get you next.”

“I will gladly sign your book,” Jonas said bending to Billy’s level like he was an actual child and gripping his shoulder reassuringly, Brock thought Billy would pass out from excitement just the way stars flew from his eyes.

Jonas turned his attention to the staircase as Rusty finally reappeared, a baby in each arm and a large Asian man walking behind him.

“How are the Junior members of Team Venture doing?” Jonas asked a seriousness laced in his gentle words.

“They were fine while we were gone today, Kano is actually competent with children unlike Helper,” with just the bitterness alone in his tone Brock could tell there was a history there.

“Helper was designed to take care of children,” Jonas chuckled holding his arms out expecting Rusty to hand him one of his grandchildren but Rusty did not, he kept going to the couch before sitting with Pete who took the blonde one instead.

“Little Hank is a dead ringer for Samson, you not telling us something, Rust?” the albino chuckled holding the baby up and Brock just stared back at the drooling creature he was not informed about. He was also not informed most of Team Venture had left. Or that Jonas was trying to make some kind of immortality machine.  

“No, my son is not related to the hired help,” Rusty grumbled back swatting at his friend who kept bouncing his son in his arms.  

Brock tuned their bickering out easily staring at the man’s father’s easy smile that was always seemed to be hiding something.

He knew he was going to get no answers from Jonas, all his information was under the heavy lock and key of his charismatic smiles and easy lies and misdirection but Rusty, he might be able to answer him.

“Will dinner be ready soon?” Jonas asked with his usual smile as he turned to a mini bar preparing himself a drink and Kano merely nodded not saying a word as he disappeared into the kitchen where Brock caught the site of a blue robot running around with a chef hat on.

This was the weirdest job he had ever agreed to be apart of and he had once fought David Bowie in Berlin over some sacred artifact that was rumored to grant immortality. Boy would Jonas have loved to have that thing, too bad it melted in Lava…

Pete had already turned on the TV, some sitcom was on that he and Rusty seemed to be arguing over. Rusty was of the opinion it was lame, Pete thought it was high art.

“She’s a teenage witch and her cat talks! What else do you need?”

“Something that isn’t garbage?” Rusty growled back failing to swat the remote from his friend without jostling his child, “Besides the stupid cat gives Hank nightmares, you know that.”

“It gives you nightmares,” Pete hissed back sitting on the remote, so his friend couldn’t steal it, “Hank here loves the damn cat. Don’t ya Hank?”

“Cat!” Hank gurgled reaching towards the black cat on the TV.

Jonas like the king he was, sat high in his arm chair, legs folded and one arm over the back and whiskey in hand like he was posing for a fashion magazine. Keeping a close eye on everything going on in the room, not paying any attention to Billy leaning over the arm of the couch, rambling to him about the man’s own many adventures.

“Brock, please have a seat,” Jonas commanded, and Brock did as he was told not wanting any trouble to come from the first night on the job. He sat in the middle of the circular couch, just between the nerds arguing and the babies getting fussy on his left and the nerd groveling to the personification of God himself.  

There was nothing for Brock do here, so he got up to leave, maybe go collect his duffle bag from the car and do a perimeter check before dinner and finding a way to sneak into Rusty’s room later tonight to get some real answers from him. Something just didn’t feel about this entire situation. Nothing. Keeping Rusty’s children a secret, having only two assistants who were rather new to the field of science for such a large project, all the blacked-out information on Venture’s files, the last body guard losing her mind after being here six months.

He felt Jonas’s eyes watching him as he got up to leave and was just at the door when Jonas called for him. He turned his head back noticing the only ones still making any noises were the fussy infants, he momentarily locked eyes with Rusty who mouthed something to him while Jonas’s head was turned from him and it only made the oddness of this assignment sink in more.

‘You can’t just leave.’

“Where are you headed?”

“I was going to get my things from my car---”

Jonas merely chuckled cutting him off with a wave of his hand, gulping down the rest of his whiskey before he said firmly.

“Its all already been taken care of, I had Helper bring your things into your new room while we were busy today. Just relax, have a drink, go take a dip in my pool, unwind my dear boy. You must learn to relax.”

“Your robot touched my car?” Brock almost sneered and Rusty seemed to sense the danger like a second sense, collected his other child from Pete and was already hurrying back up the stairs, Pete dragging Billy with them.  

“Relax, relax, Helper didn’t harm your car,” he chuckled, “You left the keys in the hanger! He just merely unlocked the trunk and transferred your one duffel bag to your new room. If you would like I can show you there?”

“What’s your game?” Brock couldn’t help but question out loud.

“There is none,” Jonas said like a father trying to comfort his child, “You have been on the front line so long, I think you are just looking for one. Spinx isn’t here right now, you can let your guard down sometimes. You must learn to do so or you will lose yourself, trust me on this.”

“I have watched you look for a threat all day, Spinx like the Guild before them is not subtle, you will know when you need to prepare for battle. I appreciate you take your job more seriously then the last hack they sent here but you are young, Brock, you don’t need to be so tense. Don’t go looking for threats that aren’t there. I hired you in case of emergencies to keep my son safe, that doesn’t mean you must lose your sanity looking for a threat every waking moment. It is the first day, just breath and get used to the surroundings gradually, that is all you have to do.”  

He patted Brock on the shoulder gently, “Your room is down that hallway on the left-hand side, Kano’s is right next door if you ever require anything. Upstairs,” he pointed his glass the way Rusty and his friends had disappeared to, “Is our sleeping quarters. Mine at the very end of the hall if you ever need me, Billy and Pete’s to the left-hand side and Rusty and his sons are to the right. That is the lay out I know you must have been dying to scope out for yourself, but you don’t need to. You only need to ask Brock. We aren’t the enemy, we may do things you don’t understand but we do them for a reason.”  

“I asked for privacy as a top operative of the OSI myself, I helped fund the organization back in ’62, I feel I have earned my privacy in their files. You know what the Guild has done to my Rusty and what they have continued to do to him to this day and now Spinx is in the mix, I don’t want Rusty fearing for those boys lives like I had to, so I leave them out of our documents.”

Brock did know, that was some of the stuff that wasn’t classified. A few months ago they had been sending dead snakes to the Venture compound making demands for Venture’s son or the entire compound would be destroyed, they had yet to make due on that threat.

“Are the boys the former body guard’s…” Brock began before Jonas cut him off with a frown.

“Dean and Hank are not her sons, she came to that conclusion herself when her and Rusty began an intimate relationship and she became a tab bit too attached,” Jonas said with a sigh and shake of his head, “The compound catching fire? That wasn’t Spinx or the Guild.”

“And you still want OSI protection after that?”

“I am getting old, Kano is getting old, Team Venture is barely holding together because they are all married and wish for more time with their families instead of keeping things like they always have been,” Jonas chuckled a tinge of sadness in his eyes, “One psycho doesn’t automatically change the fact the OSI is a competent organization with people like yourself willing to help me. Not only with Spinx but to protect Rusty when I am gone. I love my son, my greatest project, my legacy, more then words can tell but he is weak, and he needs someone to look after him always.”

“I can’t guarantee I will be here forever,” Brock grumbled shaking his head.

“I can’t force it on you, but I hope you can one day call yourself a member of Team Venture, Mr. Samson, I can already tell you are a reliable young man.”

Jonas patted Brock fondly on the arm before leading him to the bar to share a drink with him and Brock didn’t feel he could refuse him. Rusty’s warning stuck on his mind though and left him lying in bed staring at the ceiling long after he had retired.

‘You can’t just leave.’

A part of him almost wanted to trust Jonas, he didn’t seem like that bad of a guy and well his son did seem like a bit of a pompous, ungrateful little asshole but he still couldn’t shake that warning. Would he be able to leave when this was all said and done?

[jbankai89]

Never Let Me Go [30/37]

A/N: Next update will be March 1st. The hospital in this chapter is completely made up. I don't have internet at home, and Broken Telephone Googling was coming up with some weird results, so I decided to create a fictional hospital instead, just in case any Kelowna-dwellers happen upon this story :P (And I promise that the Otabek POV chapter/s are coming, I haven't forgotten.)

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Our Baby

Thunder rolled over the house—their home, but instead of it feeling like some sort of ill omen to Yuri, it was calming, like a cooling salve on a burn.

The glass doors that looked out on the lake showed the body of water rippling distantly with the rush of summer rain, while inside the family had gathered around the fireplace with mugs of coffee, tea, hot chocolate, and a plate of store-bought cookies to replace the homemade ones Minami and Phichit had tried to make, and quickly threw out when Yuri began to gag on the scent of orange and cranberry on the air. They all seemed to know that the violent reaction was not a Pregnancy Thing, but rather a response from his time with the trainer, but it appeared as though no one had the nerve to ask him about it, for which Yuri was grateful.

Otabek, in contrast, seemed to be completely fine, which was very strange, given what Yuri knew about what he had gone through, and his actions immediately following their escape.

Otabek was quiet, reserved, and he seemed much more focused on helping Yuri than himself. Every time Yuri tried to broach the topic, Otabek would shut down, like he was some sort of robot whose batteries had run out.

Tonight however, after nearly a month in the new country, both Otabek and Yuri were doing well. The TV was off, and the triplets were their entertainment for the evening. All three of them were lying on a blue baby blanket in the centre of the room; Yuriko was on her back, her little legs and arms flailing excitedly, Viktoria on her belly and wiggling like a fish out of water, and Antonia was still, staring around at the adults with wide eyes while she suckled on her dummy.

Yuuri was stretched out on the ground next to his girls, smiling indulgently while he watched them, and Viktor was on the love seat, a similar expression on his face while he observed his omega. As Yuri was privy to the sweet scene before him, he began to wonder if Otabek would ever look like that once their little one was finally born. Yuri placed a hand on his stomach out of habit, and Otabek covered it with his own, his thumb brushing over the skin gently, lovingly, while another roll of thunder sounded from outside. Makkachin whined at the sound, and burrowed under Viktor's legs, making the alpha laugh as he was tipped over by the dog.

Yuri rested his head on Otabek's shoulder as he watched the little scene before him, and Otabek moved his other hand to Yuri's hair, his fingers trailing idly through the locks while they watched the babies.

“You nervous about tomorrow?” Otabek asked softly, his opposite hand rubbing Yuri's belly gently as he spoke, and Yuri winced as their child gave his innards a familiar, swift kick.

“You mean for the ultrasound?” Yuri asked, and Otabek nodded. “No. Are you?”

“A little,” Otabek replied, “nervous...but excited. I want to see our baby.”

The words our baby left Yuri feeling warm and content, like the sense of perfect safety, and comfort food, and family all rolled into one. He looked around the room again, at his grandfather in an armchair reading one the the books they'd brought over from Russia, at Minami and Phichit on the sofa, talking quietly and giggling occasionally, their mouths spread into wide, happy smiles, and their fingers intertwined carelessly, as though it had taken no thought at all to share such a small embrace. At last Yuri glanced back to Viktor, Yuuri, and their girls. Viktor had moved to the floor with his omega—with Makkachin close on his heels—and Yuuri was laying with his head in the alpha's lap while they watched their children, indulgent, warm smiles upon their faces. It was a perfect sort of peace that surrounded him, and Yuri found it none too surprising that he no longer looked at these people as his friends or acquaintances, but as his family.

“I'm sorry you missed so much of...everything,” Yuri said suddenly, and Otabek blinked at him in confusion.

“What?”

“I mean...I know that you wanted this really badly, and I'm sorry you missed so much of it,” Yuri explained, his face tinting pink as he spoke.

“I'll be there for the rest of it, and that's okay with me, Yura,” Otabek murmured as he kissed Yuri's cheek and ran his palm over his stomach again. It was significantly larger now, and his belly button had begun to poke out, and Otabek sometimes had to help him stand up. He was still fairly small compared to how big Yuuri had been at six months, confirming for Yuri that he was probably—thankfully—only carrying one.

“I'll make sure you're there the whole time for the next one,” Yuri said as he rested one of his hands over Otabek's. “And I won't...” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

I won't trick you this time.

“If you want, Yura,” Otabek said at last, and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. “I would love that, to be there for you throughout everything, but do it for you, not just me. Okay?”

“Deal,” Yuri agreed, arching up to kiss Otabek lightly, and when he pulled back a moment later, he spotted Yuuri holding up a phone and grinning nervously, making it painfully obvious that he had just snapped a picture.

“Sorry,” Yuuri said, though he did not look or sound sorry at all. “You guys were just being so adorable, I couldn't resist.” He turned the phone around, and Yuri saw that the image, far from being gross or ridiculous, actually filled him with a strange sort of warmth.

Yuri saw himself, leaning to the side and curled up next to Otabek. One of the alpha's arms was slung over Yuri's shoulders, and the other was resting on the swell of his pregnant stomach. Yuri's hand was twined with his free one at his shoulder, and their lips were just barely touching, eyes closed, with dual looks of peace upon both of their faces.

“I think we should probably frame this,” Yuri said, and smirked a little when he watched Yuuri's shoulders sag with relief that he wasn't upset. “What do you think, Beka?”

“We could start one of those Family Picture Wall things,” Yuuri offered, smiling hopefully at the others who had all gathered around to look at the photo he'd taken, much to Yuri's embarrassment. “What do you think? Pictures of us, pictures of the kids, and just keep adding and adding...”

“I do believe I have some pictures of Yuratchka from when he was little...” Nikolai mused after he had taken a turn looking at Yuuri's candid snapshot of his grandson.

“Oh, I wanna see Baby Yuri!” Minami cried excitedly, and Otabek chuckled as Yuri went very red under all the attention.

“Me too! Me too!” Phichit added with the same level of excitement.

“No!” Yuri protested, but no one seemed to be listening as they chattered and joked, while Nikolai looked on with a warm, amused smile, clearly pleased at the chaos he had created with such a simple statement. “Grandpa, seriously, it's embarrassing.”

“I don't know, I think I wouldn't mind to see Baby Yuri either,” Otabek purred into his ear before he kissed Yuri's cheek, and he felt himself flush. Though Otabek's words had been far from what one might consider to be risqué, something about the way Otabek had spoken made Yuri's stomach flutter pleasantly.

“I don't mind if you see, but I don't think the rest of them need to—”

“Now, now, Yuratchka,” his grandfather admonished gently, “you're not being fair. If you let Otabek see your baby pictures, it's only right that the rest do too.”

Cheers surrounded the couple, and Otabek chuckled warmly as Yuri buried his red face in the crook of the alpha's shoulder.

~*~

The trip to the hospital the next day did not take long. Otabek was driving—amazingly, keeping to the speed limit this time—and the others had chosen to stay behind, but told the couple to bring back some prints of the ultrasound.

Twenty minutes of very careful driving later, they made it into the city. Otabek wove through the mild downtown traffic with the same nervous, Baby on Board type driving for a further ten minutes before they stopped outside a huge brown building that read, Kelowna General Hospital on the front, complete with a rendering of a huge brown bear on the left side of the entryway.

Otabek pulled into a spot near the doors, got out, circled the vehicle, and helped Yuri out of the car while the alpha asked, “ready, Yura?”

Yuri could feel people staring at them while they rushed in and out of the front doors, but Yuri wasn't sure if the stares were because pregnant omegas weren't a common sight in Canada, or from them speaking Russian in lieu of English or French.

“Yeah,” Yuri smiled and placed his hands on his stomach. “I wanna see our baby.” He paused, and looked up at Otabek with an imploring, pleading look in his eyes. “You'll do the talking, right? My English isn't very good for conversation.”

“I'll translate, it's no problem,” Otabek replied as he leant in to kiss Yuri lightly, and Yuri felt, once again, that distinct flutter in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with the baby.

They headed into the front doors, Otabek with one arm wrapped protectively around Yuri's waist as they stepped up to the reception desk, while Yuri leant into Otabek's side, appreciating the help as his back began to twinge from the weight of his pregnant stomach. Otabek spoke quickly, apparently sensing Yuri's discomfort, and the omega only caught a few words that he recognized—pregnant, doctor, country, new, no English.

The receptionist answered, speaking in a slow, bored tone as she pointed towards the left side of her desk, towards a long hallway. She flicked her pen a few times as she spoke, and Otabek nodded along so often it looked more like he was bobbing his head to a catchy song than listening to someone speak. After less than a minute of conversation Otabek thanked her, and led Yuri away.

“I asked her about our appointment,” Otabek explained before Yuri could ask, “she said we need to sign in first, which is up on the third floor, and they have a few multilingual clerks who can help us.”

“Oh thank God,” Yuri said as he leant against Otabek's side again. “The whole Not Understanding What's Going On thing was really freaking me out.”

“Maybe we should pick up some English books on the way home,” Otabek teased, and Yuri groaned. On top of everything else, learning a second language was not exactly high on his to-do list.

They took the elevator up to the third floor, and wove through Radiology and the Blood-Testing wing to a narrow hallway lined with doors that all read Admissions. On the far left was a line of seats, and a handful of people were waiting their turn, ticker numbers clutched in their hands.

Otabek led Yuri over to one of the chairs, and yanked a number from the machine before he joined his omega to wait their turn. Yuri glanced down at their number (seventy-eight), just as he heard one of the clerks call, “number sixty-three!”

Yuri sagged back into his chair with a small huff, and Otabek immediately rested a comforting hand on his knee.

They waited close to twenty minutes before their number was called, and Otabek was quick to ask about the multilingual clerks. Without missing a beat the woman picked up her phone, and she swapped herself out for an older gentleman who seemed to be of Asian descent.

“Hi,” the clerk said in Russian, though the lilt in his voice made Yuri suspect that he might be Vietnamese. “How may I help you today?”

“We have an appointment at two o'clock to see a radiologist for an ultrasound,” Yuri explained, “we haven't seen a doctor yet...erm, in this country.”

“Do you have a medicare card?” he asked, and Yuri nodded as he fished out his wallet and pushed the crisp plastic card across the table. Thanks in no small part to the OLF, all the paperwork that should have taken the better part of six months had been pushed through in a matter of weeks, and both Yuri and Otabek had all the necessary documents to keep the government from deporting them. Knowing that he was safe was a nice, albeit foreign feeling, one that Yuri was still getting used to.

“Okay, so I just need to get your hospital card set up, then I can send you on your way. So, let's see here...” he tapped a few keys on the computer he sat in front of as he said, “Yuri Plisetsky...age nineteen, birthday March 1st, 1999, sex, male, secondary sex, omega, civil status, bonded...born in Moscow, Russia, current address 2167 Collens Hill Road, Kelowna, British Columbia, Postal Code V1Z 2H8...Is that all correct?”

“We're not...” Yuri glanced at Otabek, “I mean...it's just that...” he felt his face heat up as he tried to come up with an explanation. Instead, the man smiled, and clicked his mouse a few times.

“Would Domestic Partnership be more appropriate?” he asked kindly, “it just means that you live together, but the omega is not necessarily marked.”

“Yeah,” Yuri replied as he relaxed a little. “That works.”

“All right, perfect,” the man said as he tapped away rapidly on the computer, filling in the necessary information. “All I'm missing then is a phone number and emergency number.”

Otabek gave his and Viktor's numbers, and less than a minute later Yuri was holding a new, white hospital card in his hands, while the clerk directed them back to the Radiology wing of the hospital. Yuri was too busy staring at the card to listen, but Otabek took it all in, so he wasn't worried.

As Otabek led Yuri from the Admission area and over to Radiology, he was already starting to dream about having a nap. He leant a little more against Otabek's side, staggering a little as he walked, and eyed the wheelchairs as they crossed out of the Admissions wing, but Yuri was quite keen to not draw more attention to himself, and instead resigned to the act of walking (or, more accurately, waddling) to Radiology with Otabek's arm at his waist.

Otabek took care of speaking to the receptionist while Yuri plopped down in one of the available chairs with a heavy sigh, and buried his face in his hands.

I wish I knew why I was so tired... Yuri thought as he stifled a yawn, maybe I'm just stressed. I used to get sleepy instead of stressed, so maybe that's it...

“Tired?” Otabek asked as he sat down, and Yuri responded by resting his head on Otabek's shoulder.

“When we get home I think I need a nap...” Yuri mumbled, his eyes shut, and he felt Otabek's shoulder tense. Yuri blinked in confusion and opened his eyes, gazing up at Otabek in confusion. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Otabek replied quickly, and Yuri eyed him quizzically. “Seriously, it's nothing.”

Yuri didn't believe him, but decided it might be better to not push, and closed his eyes again to doze while they waited for their turn with the doctor.

It took less than ten minutes for them to be called, and a nurse in pale green scrubs led them down a narrow hall to a room with a plastic '10' on the door, and jabbered to Otabek in English for a moment while she waved vaguely at the available hard-backed chairs next to the ultrasound machine and reclining seat.

“Your English must be improving,” Otabek teased as Yuri waddled towards one of the chairs, “I didn't even need to translate for you this time.”

“When a nurse points at a few chairs it's not exactly rocket science to assume she means have a seat,” Yuri replied with a small snort. “What else did she say?”

“The doctor will see you shortly, blah, blah, blah, the usual,” Otabek said as he sat next to Yuri. “You know everyone is going to be really excited to see the ultrasound photos and everything when we get back, do you think you'll be up for that? You've been pretty exhausted ever since we got here.”

“Honestly? Probably not,” Yuri replied, and yawned again. “I just really really want to sleep, I don't even know why I'm so damn tired...”

“You're in your third trimester, baby,” Otabek murmured as he pulled Yuri into a gentle half-hug, and kissed the top of his head. “It's normal. When we get home you can sleep as long as you like.”

“Sounds like heaven,” Yuri mused as his lifted his head, and they shared a kiss just as the door snapped open and a doctor bustled inside.

The doctor and Otabek spoke back and forth, and Otabek gestured to Yuri a few times. Once more he caught a few words, no English, first doctor, Canada. It was enough that Yuri had a vague idea what they were discussing, but Yuri felt no better about the situation—the inability to understand was deeply uncomfortable, and Yuri hoped that the next time they showed up here, he would have mastered enough English to speak to the doctor himself.

Or cuss him out, if they showed up while Yuri was in labour.

“Yuri,” Otabek said while he brushed his hand over the top of Yuri's, drawing his attention back to the alpha. “She wants you to get into the chair and lift up your shirt, and to brace yourself because the gel she'll use for the ultrasound will be a little cold.”

Yuri nodded once, and reached for Otabek's hand properly. Their fingers laced together, and the doctor smiled as she watched Otabek help Yuri up, and they approached the reclining chair together. The omega eased back onto it while the doctor said something to Otabek, and he smiled, offering the back of Yuri's hand a quick kiss before he let it go, and stepped back over to the chairs they had been using before. Yuri was about to protest when he saw that Otabek was simply dragging one of them closer, enabling him to sit at Yuri's side. He took the omega's hand again and Yuri squeezed it lightly, while he used his free hand to tug his T-shirt up and over his baby bump.

The doctor smiled at him reassuringly as she snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, picked up a white tube, and said something that made Otabek laugh.

“What did she say?” Yuri asked, his breath hitching a little as she squeezed a sizable glob of cold blue gel onto his stomach.

“She said, 'let's see what's cooking in the oven.'”

“I don't get it. Is my stomach too hot?” Yuri asked, and Otabek snorted.

“No, no,” Otabek replied between chuckles, “it's just a phrase. It means, let's see how your baby is growing, sort of thing.”

“Oh.” Yuri felt his face flush in embarrassment, but he was quickly distracted when he saw the doctor pick up a white wand-like contraption, and flick on a little TV next to her. Yuri recognized it as the ultrasound machine, and his breath caught with nervous anticipation.

The doctor pressed the device in her hand to Yuri's stomach, albeit a little harder than Yuri had anticipated, and his gaze shifted to the screen.

A black and white, pixelated image bloomed into view, and Yuri blinked as tears came to his eyes. A rounded head, the body curled in on itself, a little fist up near the mouth, and the umbilical cord spiralling out of the image. The doctor spoke, and Otabek translated, “there's our baby.”

Yuri sniffed, and Otabek chuckled warmly as he wiped away Yuri's tears with his free hand. Yuri couldn't tear his gaze way from the image, the way the baby would shift, and at the same moment Yuri would feel a flutter in his stomach of movement, like his child was rolling over in sleep while they dreamt. The doctor moved the ultrasound-wand-thing, and they got another angle, and Yuri laughed a little as he gazed up at the child. Another tear streaked his cheek, and Otabek once again wiped it away.

The doctor spoke, and Otabek nodded. He turned to Yuri, but Yuri once again did not—refused to—look away from the image of his child. “The doctor wants to know if we want to know the sex, and that our baby looks fine, does not appear to be in any distress, and that you're about eight and a half months along, by her guess, and could go into labour at any time, but it could be another four weeks or so. She said you're going to start getting...um...practice labour pain soon, too, if you haven't already.”

“I want it to be a surprise,” Yuri replied as he shook his head, keeping his suspicions about the baby's sex to himself. “But if you want to know, she can tell you. I know what girl and boy is in English though, so make sure you whisper. Can you ask her how bad these practice labour pains will be? I don't remember anything like that happening yet.”

Otabek translated, and the doctor laughed warmly, as though it was a question she'd heard dozens of times before. She responded, and Otabek grimaced. Yuri swallowed nervously as he his eyes darted between the two, and when the doctor turned her back on them to jot something down on a piece of paper, Otabek moved to translate once more.

“She said it's not really pain-pain, but more like pressure, and that it's difficult to describe, but more intense than heat pain,” Otabek said, and Yuri grimaced. “She also said that if they last more than two minutes it's likely a real labour pain, and not one of the practice ones, and we need to come to the hospital when that happens.”

Yuri wanted to rub his stomach, but it was still covered in the blue goo. Instead he glanced back to the screen, where his baby was still displayed prominently, while Otabek got up and began to whisper with the doctor, and broke into a smile when she answered him. Yuri smiled as he watched his alpha, then glanced back to the image of his child. The idea of more pain scared him, but somehow seeing his child like this, he knew that it would be worth it.

~*~

On the way out of the hospital, a cream manila envelope in hand sporting the pictures of the ultrasound and a USB key with the digital versions, Otabek surprised Yuri with a treat.

“Just one won't hurt the baby, I double-checked with the doctor,” Otabek said with a warm smile as he offered Yuri a paper coffee cup, dark brown with an oval-shaped logo in red on the side. “You said you were tired, right?”

Coffee.

A swell of emotion filled Yuri's chest as he accepted the cup, and he sniffed sharply as Otabek stared at him.

“Yura?” Otabek asked uncertainly, “are you okay?”

“Oh, Beka,” Yuri sniffled between pathetic half-sobs, “this is just...just...so nice. You're so thoughtful. I love coffee...oh, and you.”

“Do I come in second to coffee?” Otabek asked teasingly while he produced a tissue, and Yuri mopped his streaming eyes.

“Only because I need to limit how much coffee I drink right now, and you I can have as much as I want,” Yuri replied between sniffles. “I—I'm sorry, I don't even know why I'm so damn weepy...”

“It's the hormones,” Otabek explained patiently, “makes you react...differently, sometimes. I once saw a pregnant omega making pasta and crying because the bubbles were just so fluffy, so this is nothing.”

Yuri laughed weakly, and leant into Otabek's side as he flipped open the plastic tab on the cup, and the sweet aroma of the dark roast filtered up into his nose. He let out a tiny moan as Otabek began to steer him towards the exits, mumbling something about them having another appointment next week, while Yuri sipped on his coffee, savouring it like it had been a gift from the Gods.

While Yuri nursed his drink, Otabek's left arm still around him, his right hand was tightly gripping his phone, and he was texting vigorously. Yuri craned his neck, trying to see who he was texting, but the moment that Otabek spotted him, he casually lifted his phone higher and tilted the screen away from him. Yuri scowled.

“Who are you texting?” Yuri asked.

“No one,” Otabek replied quickly—too quickly, Yuri noted. He frowned, and Otabek mirrored the expression immediately. “Come on, Yura, don't look at me like that. If I tell you, it'll spoil the—the thing.”

“Spoil the what?”

“Nothing.”

“You're a terrible liar, Beka.”

“I love you?”

“Yeah, I love you too, but that's not the point—who are you texting?”

“No one!”

“Well, obviously no one has a lot to say,” Yuri said sourly, and Otabek frowned.

“That's not fair,” he said, “I promise it's nothing bad, and you'll find out soon enough, but if you find out early, I'll be in big trouble.”

“In trouble with who?”

Otabek didn't answer, and just went back to texting. Yuri huffed, but Otabek did not engage him in any more conversation as they wove back to the car.

Yuri huffed, irritated that he wasn't in on...whatever it was, but Otabek was being infuriatingly stubborn, and even when Yuri went on his tiptoes to try and see the screen, Otabek simply lifted the phone higher, and out of his line of sight. Asshole.

Yuri drank his coffee in silence, his expression sour, and winced when the baby kicked him in the bladder. Otabek didn't respond, and instead tucked away his phone as they got into the car and drove off in silence.

Otabek flicked on the radio when it became obvious that Yuri was too annoyed to talk to him, and a marathon of The Ramones escorted them home, Yuri tapping his foot along to Do You Remember Rock N' Roll Radio? as they went, and the sweet sounds of the '70s punk did help him to calm down a little—though he was still mad at Otabek for keeping him in the dark.

When they pulled up outside the house, Yuri blinked with confusion, and Otabek smirked knowingly. A cluster of balloons had been tied to the iron banister just outside the front door—pink, light blue, and spring green. Colours, he knew, that signified both baby girls and boys, as well as baby alpha, beta, and omega.

“What's going on?” Yuri asked, but instead of answering, Otabek merely smiled knowingly.

“Come on,” he said, “let's get inside.”

Otabek killed the engine and got out, circling the vehicle as Yuri unbuckled himself, grabbed the prints of the ultrasound as well as his mostly-finished coffee, just as Otabek opened the door for him.

Yuri asked again what was going on, but Otabek didn't answer as he wrapped an arm around Yuri's waist and guided him to the door. Now, he had a vague suspicion as to what was happening, and as he opened the door his guess was immediately confirmed by the blast of noise that followed.

“SURPRISE!”

Yuri blinked, staring first at the grinning faces of Yuuri, Viktor, Minami, Phichit, and his grandfather all bearing gifts in bright paper, all of whom were surrounding him, to the decorations that had been tacked to the ceiling and walls—sparkling garlands, tendrils of twisted streamers in more pink, blue, and green, the dinner table was heavy with finger food, along with an enormous, rectangular cake, and still more gifts in the living room opposite, all of which completely obscured the coffee table. The triplets were in their baby pen, more or less ignorant to the festivities, though they did begin to squeal excitedly at the shout of noise from the front of the house.

“What's...what's going on?” Yuri asked, and though, internally, he knew what this was, the question still slipped past his lips before he could stop it.

“What does it look like?” Minami asked with a wide grin. “It's your baby shower!”

“Surprise,” Otabek added with a smile of his own, and Yuri couldn't help it—he grinned too.

A/N: If you like my work, please consider throwing a few bucks into my Digital Tip Jar. I am a starving artist, and I like not actually starving to death :P

NLMG Masterpost

[yuudetama]

Goodbye, Peter Pan [Chapter 7]

And as we swim in the lonely sea, I wonder: who will be there to watch when we finally sink and drown?

CSI!Bangtan AU. Chapter 6 → Chapter 7 

Once, during your very first murder investigation as a crime scene detective, you had been summoned to the city cemetery in the dead of the night (as Jin had so wittingly put it). With bleary eyes and a yawn that no amount of instant coffee could subdue, you’d watched as the forensics team had carried out their usual routine among the gravestones, examining the bludgeoned body of a homeless man as best as they could under the erratic flashing of their lamps. Your senior officer at the time had been there with you, lips pursed, eyes raking over the crimson wounds, the scattered droplets of blood tainting the grass.

“Murder happens every day, all the time,” she’d finally said, nodding at the inert body. “Whether it’s at three in the afternoon or three in the morning, it doesn’t matter. People kill. People die. But even so, the world doesn’t care. It’s not so kind that it would wait patiently for us, for a more convenient time to start investigating, do you understand?”

And you, with the remnants of sleep still weighing down your eyelids, hadn’t quite grasped the meaning behind her words in that moment, but now as you stand at the front of the debriefing room with your team waiting in expectancy, you can’t help but think that she couldn’t have been closer to the truth. Time concedes to nothing, least of all death. People live, people die, and in either case, the wheel of time keeps spinning on, blithely ignorant to the unfaltering cycle of life and death. The murdered woman found in Ji Hana’s apartment? She will surely be missed by her family and friends, yes, but in the grand scheme of things, who really cares about her death? Certainly not the world. It’s both a lament and a cynical truth that you’ve known ever since your days at the academy: human beings are nothing more than lonely creatures swimming in the sea, and nobody but the sky is there to watch them sink and drown.

You brood over this rather depressing thought as you finish writing on the whiteboard. Victim- Ji Hana?, the board now displays, along with an intricate web of forensic photographs.

“Alright, let’s get started. Is everybody ready?”

You glance around the room. It’s barely seven in the morning and as such, the familiar scatterings of coffee mugs, pre-breakfast treats, and subtle (and in some cases, not so subtle) hiding of yawns make their appearances. Your team members are in their usual seats, with the exception being the newcomer, Jung Hoseok. Mr I’m-only-here-to-do-my-job is sitting at the end of the table, having chosen the seat with the widest vantage point of the room. He cocks his head as he watches you lead the meeting. The expression on his face is the same one he’d worn when you’d introduced him to the rest of the team earlier: politely bored of the formalities, but at the same time looking as though he’s amused by something only he knows about. You briefly hold his gaze before pointing to the board.

“The body of an unidentified middle-aged woman is found in an apartment unit, head and right hand severed and missing from scene.” Ignoring the show of grimaces and winces, you rattle off the details of the previous day’s autopsy. “Although we don’t have a current ID on the victim, we know that the apartment is leased to a Ms. Ji Hana. Aged thirty-three, single, and highly seclusive. Her phone is still turned off and we haven’t been able to get a hold of her, but apparently it isn’t unusual for her to fall off the grid like this.”

“Has someone tried tracking her phone?” Kim Sunggyu speaks. In all of the years that you’ve known him you’ve never once seen him without a surly expression of some sort, so you’re not at all surprised when he frowns at the whiteboard, scrutinizing the photos as though they will confess to all sins under his piercing glare.

“Yes, and as expected, it was a dead end.” You nod at Jimin, who sends you a sleepy grin in return. The head of the intelligence unit is dressed in his usual black tee and jeans, showing off the elaborate tidal design of his sleeve tattoos. “According to our resident hacker here, the location of its last signal was traced back to her apartment. So either Ji Hana is out there somewhere with a non-working cellphone, or the killer, for some reason unknown to us, switched it off himself and took it out of the unit.”

Jin reaches for the biscuit plate. Already half of the breakfast cookies are gone, no doubt thanks to Jin and his sticky fingers. Never one to sit through a meeting without snacks in hand, that man. “It’s more likely to be the second option, isn’t it?”

Lee Jieun pipes up. You’d heard that she, Jin, and Sunggyu had arrived back to Seoul quite late the night before, but the young woman looks as wide-eyed and attentive as ever as she looks from Jin to you and back to Jin. “But it hasn’t been confirmed that the victim is actually Hana, right?”

“Well, what are the chances it’s somebody else?”

“You never know. There’s really no telling for certain in our line of work…”

You cut them off before the debate can spark any further. “Her parents are coming in later today to identify the body, so we can settle the matter then. In the meantime…” Turning to the laptop placed on your desk, you press a few buttons and gesture for the lights to be switched off. A uniformed officer complies, and soon the room becomes encased in darkness as the projector hanging from the ceiling flickers to life.

You motion for Jungkook to join you at the front. “Guide us through it, Jungkook.”

The youngest member of your team slowly rises from his seat. Unlike the others, who have cups among cups of caffeine settled within their reach, Jungkook only has a sleek notebook and pen sitting in front of him. He hardly ever drinks coffee during these early morning meetings- an impressive feat for somebody whose job depends on the absolute powerhouse that is caffeine.

He picks up the projector remote and presses the play button. The security cameras are an old-fashioned model, he’d told you, resulting in a distinct graininess that not even Jimin’s team could perfectly enhance. With the hallway empty and the doors firmly shut, it looks more like an antiquated image frozen on the screen. The only thing warranting its playback nature is the running timestamp in the bottom righthand corner.

“This is footage of the CCTV on Ji Hana’s apartment floor,” Jungkook begins in his usual quiet voice. The video has no sounds accompanying it, but some of the officers sitting in the back have to lean forward to hear him clearly. “As you know, the body was estimated to have been left in unit 905 five hours prior to its discovery.” He points to the timestamp. 01:58:38, is what it reads.

“Unfortunately, the elevator cameras have been malfunctioning for the past week so we were unable to access the tapes there,” he continues. “But if you keep watching, in about ten seconds or so you’ll see what was filmed by the ninth floor camera.”

You exchange looks with Yoongi. He’s oddly quiet this morning, but you can tell from the sour look on his face that he’s mulling over the less-than-fruitful results of the security clip. You’ve already watched this clip a dozen times the night before, and as a result can narrate it play-by-play in your head: a hooded figure steps into the eye of the camera, wheeling a hefty suitcase behind him. Without pausing for break he strides purposefully towards the door of 905. His back is turned to the camera, but the ease with which he- or she- slips out a key and unlocks the door is easily discernible. The figure disappears inside and reemerges soon after, still holding the suitcase, still walking with an air of cool composure.

Jungkook waits until the figure disappears from the screen, then replays the clip. “I’ve reviewed all of the tapes from the past month leading to now, and this is the only footage we have of any person entering unit 905, besides Ji Hana herself. Assuming that the body was inside that suitcase, we can conclude that the killer took approximately-” he checks his notes- “six minutes and four seconds to dispose of it and clean any residual traces of himself.”

“It’s hard to tell, because of the hood and face mask,” you add, “But the build of his shoulders and look of his shoe size suggest we’re looking at an adult male, possibly in his late twenties to late thirties. Somebody with enough physical strength to pull around a suitcase with a human body in it… Then again we could be thrown off by the mask, so I’d like for you all to keep an open mind when finding potential suspects.”

Jin squints at the video. “Did he not realize that the cameras were there?” he wonders with an air of incredulity.

Beside him, Sunggyu crosses his arms. “I think he just didn’t care about them. Did you see the way he was walking?” He jerks his head at the silent screen. “He never once looks at the cameras directly but you can tell that he’s confident. He knows what he’s doing and he doesn’t care what the repercussions are, because he knows he’s not going to get caught.”

“He thinks he’s not going to get caught,” you correct, although a part of you wonders how true Sunggyu’s words will turn out to be. You catch Hoseok’s eye again and this time, as though reading the worrisome thoughts on your mind, he dips his head in a mock salute.

Jungkook shuffles ahead to a second clip. This one is of the building entrance, stamped to just a minute before the first tape. “The killer enters the apartment and leaves in just under ten minutes,” he carries on as though the interruption had never happened. “There are no cameras outside of the entranceway, so there’s no telling which direction he left in. The closest buildings to the apartment are a pub and convenience store located across the street- I’ve checked both of their CCTV monitors and he doesn’t appear in any of them.”

“So we’re basically hunting down a ghost,” the branch director finally scowls, while you press further, “And none of the employees saw anything suspicious?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook says curtly, and switches to yet another tape. The ninth floor hallway returns to the screen, but this time the timestamp is dated to 11 AM of the same morning. A man is recorded pacing slowly through the hallway, face concealed, stopping every now and then to stare at the taped-off door of 905. “But yesterday afternoon, when I retrieved the security footage from the apartment, the landlord reported a suspicious party at the crime scene.” He relays to the team what the landlord had told him the day prior.

“You think he might be the killer?” Jin says thoughtfully as he downs the rest of his lukewarm beverage.

“I don’t think he’d return to the crime scene right after our people swarmed the place, do you?” Leaning forward in your chair, you stare at the projector screen with a renewed interest. “Take a closer look at him. His mask is identical to what the killer wore, but he’s also wearing a baseball cap and his clothes fit differently. And he looks shorter, too, do you see? No, this guy is an entirely different person,” you decide.

“Maybe he was with the press?” Jieun offers.

“Or he could have been an accomplice,” Sunggyu muses.

“The media was barred from entering the building,” Yoongi reminds them. He spits out the word as though it stings his tongue like lemon juice. “But whatever this person’s intentions were, he had no business being there. Add him to your list of priorities. Whoever he is, I want him found and questioned immediately,” he says to you. As if you need the reminder, but you know he’s really only saying it for the benefit of the others.

Nodding, you ask the officer to turn the lights on. “In any case, what we need to do is establish a link between the killer and Hana,” you tell your team as fluorescent light floods back into the room. “If the victim isn’t her, then how did the killer know she’d be away from her apartment? Why choose to dump the body in there? It can’t be a coincidence.”

Jimin takes this as his cue to join the conversation. “We ran a more detailed background search on Ji Hana. Or at least, we tried to.” He runs a hand through his hair, mussing the already unruly chestnut locks. “Nothing came up. As far as we know, her record is spotless. There’s nothing illegal under her name- the worst thing she ever got was a parking ticket back in ‘07. We went through her laptop and the USB sticks which you recovered from the crime scene, but there was nothing incriminating on any of them.”

“And her emails?”

“Other than the odd message to and from her company, it was practically unused. Sorry to say, but her digital footprint led to nothing of interest. All she seemed to be involved with was her publishing projects and personal artwork.”

It makes sense, you think. The woman was- or had been- a professional artist, after all, and seemed to make a second living out of being a recluse. “She also had a separate computer for work. I’ll clear it with her company and arrange for it to be sent down here, so see if you and your guys can find anything on that.”

“You got it, Boss.” Jimin flashes you another grin.

The nagging voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like Yoongi scowls, telling you that Ji Hana’s work computer will also be of no help, but you ignore it in favour of turning to Jin. “Alright, moving on. How did it go in Gwangju yesterday? Did you guys manage to get anything interesting?”

Jin opens his mouth to answer, but Sunggyu beats him to the punch.

“Honestly? It was a complete waste of time.” The surly man prods his notes as though they’re the ones at fault for an unsuccessful trip. “Half the people we talked to could barely even remember the woman, and the ones who did basically said the same thing about her. That she was nice but a little forgetful, that she spent more time with her head in the clouds than she did here on earth. If she’s as scatterbrained as people say she is, than who knows? Maybe she really is just wandering around the city somewhere.”

“Her family has had limited contact with Hana since she moved down here,” Jieun adds helpfully. “Neither her parents nor her younger sister know much about her personal life. Most of her childhood friends have lost contact with her after graduating high school, and not one of them could think of a reason why anybody would want to harm her.”

“No ex-boyfriends? No reported stalkers?”

“None that were mentioned,” Jieun confirms. Yoongi scowls.

“So you’re saying you didn’t find anything useful at all?” He glowers at the trio who had journeyed to Ji Hana’s hometown. Jieun sends him an apologetic look, but the aggravated man isn’t having any of it. “Then what were the three of you doing yesterday?”

Sunggyu looks miffed at the accusation of dawdling, but it’s Jin who answers to the director’s temper.

“Is your memory that short? We just told you, we were interviewing Ji Hana’s family and acquaintances,” he says in an exasperated voice. Reaching over, he plucks another biscuit from its dwindling pile and shakes it in Yoongi’s direction, as if to pacify the chief’s anger. “The three of us were driving around town all day, trying to talk to a list of people on incredibly short notice. You should be thanking us, you know. Sunggyu and I both had to refill on gas twice.”

Jin takes a bite of his snack, ignorant to- or simply ignoring- the way Yoongi narrows his eyes dangerously his way. “We didn’t get much from anybody in Gwangju,” he continues through a mouthful of flour and sugar, “But there is one person who might be able to help us. Hana’s childhood friend, Lee Joohee, actually lives here in the city. Her mother gave us the address when we asked for a list of acquaintances, so as soon as we’re done I’ll go have a chat with her.”

“Take Jungkook with you,” you jump in before Yoongi has the chance to snarl at the older man. You already have one dead body to deal with; the last thing you need is another messy homicide on your hands, especially one that stems from a childish squabble between your superior and fellow officers. “See if you can find something about Hana’s history that we don’t already know.” Capping the lid of your marker, you turn to the other two of the Gwangju triumvirate.

“Jieun and Sunggyu, I’m putting you in charge of tracking down the men in the footage. Put out a witness appeal, get an e-fit made; do whatever you can to identify those two. As Inspector Jung hasn’t had the chance to look at the crime scene yet, he and I will be going back to Ji Hana’s apartment. If anybody needs us, you know what my number is.”

You end the meeting with a few last parting- and what hopefully sounds encouraging- words. Chairs scrape the floor and genial chatter fills the air as your team files out of the door. They trickle through the doorway, one by one, like droplets of water merging to form the river of an unhurried mountain, until finally it’s only you and Jung Hoseok who remain in the room.

And as you meet his eyes, it suddenly occurs to you that he hadn’t uttered a single word throughout the entire meeting.

“Well, Inspector,” he says when you don’t immediately rise from your own seat, “Your car or mine?” ------- There is something about a crime scene that brings two people closer together- the lingering presence of death, perhaps, or the haunting feeling that life is so easily harvested by the omniscient reaper- but in this case, you can’t help but think that it only wedges itself almost insufferably between you and the aloof inner district detective. Hoseok says nothing as he takes in the details of Ji Hana’s kitchen, and, not for the first time since your meeting, you wonder what he could possibly be thinking to himself. A man so immensely difficult to read; he’s like a closed book that refuses to be opened past the front cover.

And then, as if reading your mind, he breaks the silence of the room. “What is it?”

“... Sorry?”

He doesn’t look up from the counter he’s examining but you get the oddest feeling that he’s watching you from the corner of his eye. “Back in the meeting. It seemed as though you were holding back on something.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” you’re tempted to shoot back, but you think that might not be the best way to continue the conversation. Leaning back, you trail your gaze over the fridge, the small wooden table, the bone white tiles of the floor that had once been tainted with red. The forensics team had done their usual meticulous job of cleaning the scene, but the smell of disinfectant merely mingles with, rather than masks, the stench of week-old spilled blood.

“I was just wondering,” you say at last, “Where he could have gotten the apartment key from.”

Hoseok doesn’t need you to clarify the “he” in your answer. “Then I suppose you could add resourceful to his list of qualities.” He doesn’t bother adding anything else to his comment, but standing there with him in the near-foreboding kitchen, you think that he knows you’re not being entirely truthful with him.

You watch as he finishes surveying the counter and moves towards the table. “About the criminal profiling,” you say when another wordless moment has passed. “I’ve spoken with the chief and he agrees it should be looked into. I have the number of the last profiler we worked with- he’s helped us on a number of cases, actually- so I’ll give him a call when we get back to the station.”

“So your director agrees with me?”

Although his back is now turned to you, you shrug at the implications in his words. “I never said that I didn’t,” you respond. Checking your watch, you decide to take one last look around the apartment before the two of you head back to your car.

Your feet take you through the living room, the dimly lit hallway, past the opened door of the bathroom. Other than the absence of the body, Ji Hana’s apartment appears to be the same as before: the same desolate items in their places, the same impossible feeling of oneness. If anything, the lack of body makes the entire unit seem more lonelier somehow, and that, you think as you step inside the main bedroom, tugs at your heart a little more severely than you’d like to admit.

You can hear Hoseok following behind you. He flicks on the light switch and brushes past you through the doorway. As he does, you catch the faintest whiff of his cologne- distant, just barely there, but enough to momentarily drown out the disagreeable scent wafting in from the kitchen. 

He comes to a halt in the middle of the room. Slowly, purposefully, he inspects the contents of the missing artist’s bedroom, as though willing the scene to burn into his memory. You follow his line of sight, although you already know the threadbare contents of what this room has to offer. A ragged wastebasket. An empty bed waiting for its owner. The photograph of the old lady and children, still lying untouched in its spot on the desk.

You’re in the middle of reexamining the drawings pinned to the wall when he speaks.

“The lamp. It’s been moved.”

“Where?” You step over to where he’s crouching on the ground.

Hoseok points at the floor area surrounding the desk. Peering down, you can make out the faint trace of discolouration on the wooden boards. It’s very slight, only barely telling you that something has recently been seized from its poorly-guarded territory. The floorboards make it difficult to tell but the size of the faded circle appears to match the base of the lamp, which almost seems to defy the setting of the room as it stands alone at the front of the bed.

Carefully, you nudge the bottom of the lamp a few inches from its current place. The fixture gives way to reveal its private spot of flooring- smooth, even in colour, with not a blemish or even a single scratch in sight. He’s right, you realize. The lamp has been relocated, and, as the spot of discolouration indicates, it was done sometime recently, too.

He continues. “She wouldn’t have moved it. According to the landlord, this woman has been living here for the past six years, yet nothing seems to have been rearranged from its original place during that time. The Ji Hana we’ve heard about, she would have been too wrapped up in her own world to focus on redecorating or even moving a piece of furniture. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You meet his eyes. This time, rather than from an unspoken derision, his eyes are narrowed in a look of concentration. “The only other person who was known to be here in the past month was the killer himself. If it wasn’t her- and I’m positive it wasn’t any of our guys- then what reason would he have for moving the lamp?”

The corner of Hoseok’s mouth twitches slightly. “That’s what we’re here to find out, Inspector.”

A sudden noise distracts you from Hoseok’s discovery. It sounds as though it’s coming from the outside corridor, causing you to frown ever so slightly. The press? It had become something of a tradition to expect a lingering reporter or two when revisiting a crime scene (much to the ire of Chief Min), but you hadn’t seen anybody who could have been media on the way in… A nosy neighbour, then?

Deciding to investigate the source of interruption, you head for the door. “I’ll be right back,” you tell Hoseok, who merely nods in response.

The image of the CCTV footage flashes in your mind, prompting you to keep a sharp eye out for any sudden movements, but the outside corridor is only empty, showing no signs of recent visitors or tenants. Outside of unit 905 the hallway seems to be in a disjointed place of its own. The atmosphere here is too detached, too hauntingly quiet, to claim to be a part of where you had just stepped out of. With cautious movements you walk further down to where the elevator waits, but it, too, merely sits in silence, untouched by the diverging outer worlds. You examine the paint chips on the doors for a minute, wondering if you had simply imagined the noise in your head, before deciding to return to where your new partner awaits.

And that’s when you see him: a man, dressed in casual outerwear, standing directly in front of Ji Hana’s door. He must have been waiting behind the corner, you realize, pulse quickening, before approaching the unit himself. As quietly as your jacket allows, you reach for the standardized revolver that dangles from your hip. You had closed the door behind you on the way out, blocking off the advances of any unwelcomed visitors, but the man simply stares at the yellow tape that stretches across the doorframe, head tilted, arms crossed over his chest.

CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS, CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS, CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS…

“Don’t move. Hands where I can see them, now.”

Despite the warning in your voice that clearly leaves no room for negotiations, the figure turns around anyways. As you’d suspected, it’s the same man from the footage, the one whom the landlord had warned Jungkook about. Number two on your list of most wanteds, but too suspicious- and clearly reckless, as his sudden return to the scene suggests- to be treated as a regular person of interest. He has on the same cap and mask that he’d worn in the tapes, shielding his identity from view, but you can still see the way his eyes flicker towards your hip, assessing the handgun that’s exposed to view.

As if mocking your intentions, he takes a deliberate step towards you.

“You don’t want to do that,” he says in a slightly muffled voice, and reaches for something hidden inside his pocket.

[gamerzcourt]

A Chat With Wedbush Securities’ Michael Pachter – Xbox One X, Loot Boxes, Exclusives And MoreA Chat With Wedbush Securities’ Michael Pachter – Xbox One X, Loot Boxes, Exclusives And Morexbox 360

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A Chat With Wedbush Securities’ Michael Pachter – Xbox One X, Loot Boxes, Exclusives And MoreA Chat With Wedbush Securities’ Michael Pachter – Xbox One X, Loot Boxes, Exclusives And Morexbox 360

The video game industry is in a state of flux and transition at the moment. Sony and Microsoft have launched all new iterative consoles that turn the paradigm of a console on its head, Nintendo has launched the Switch which is unlike anything on the market, experimental technology like VR seems to be taking off, and on the software front, games seem to be going through growing pains of new trends like games-as-a-service and microtransactions.

It’s almost too much to keep track of- trying to understand what the industry may look like going forward can be difficult when we barely have a handle on how it is currently in the first place. However, Michael Pachter of Wedbush Securities has made a name for himself for his predictions on trends, games, and hardware in the industry- so when we had a chance to speak with him again, we decided to see what he had to say on where video games are headed. Here’s what he had to say.

My first question is, I want to talk about exclusives. In 2018, all three have big games, like Microsoft has State of Decay, Crackdown 3, Sea of Thieves, maybe a new Gears or Halo. Sony has God of War, Days Gone, Spider-Man, maybe The Last of Us 2 or Death Stranding. Nintendo, Yoshi, Kirby, Fire Emblem, Pokemon, and Metroid. So, Microsoft’s slate definitely looks better next year than this year, but is it strong enough to go up against Nintendo and Sony?

You know, I think that people sometimes place too much emphasis on exclusives. I think this late in the console cycle, I mean, the consoles launched in 2013, who doesn’t own one of them yet? Sony is something like 70 million, and Microsoft is 35 million, so I guess they are two thirds of the way through. The only people who haven’t bought a console yet who will buy one are working people, or very young kid whose parents will get one for them. And, I guess, exclusives will bring some people back in who haven’t played Mario in a while, to the Switch, which is still new. But not something like Halo 6- if you like Halo, you got an Xbox One for Halo 5. Halo 6 will definitely sell a lot to its fanbase who already own an Xbox One, but it’s not gonna drive new hardware sales, it’s very different this late in the console cycle. So the reason Ij think the Switch is so popular is that they launched two giant games with Zelda and Mario, plus two really good games with Mario Kart and Splatoon. And that’s enough for Nintendo fans to say “I have to have this device,” which is why the Switch is sold out…

To answer your question, yes, any Microsoft lineup with Halo in it is better than any Microsoft lineup without Halo. But, for example, if they had had Halo this year, I would still have said Nintendo wins by a mile. Mario and Zelda in the same year? I can’t remember that happening, ever. This year Nintendo won by a mile, but I can’t expect them to to do that next year. Next year, Microsoft with Halo coming out, I think it’s coming out, looks strong. And, Sony’s lineup looks fine, I mean their lineup over the next several years looks good. But I don’t think either their line-up or Microsoft’s makes a difference anymore, people have already made their minds up, and it was probably driven by, “If I want early access to Call of Duty DLC, I’ll buy a PlayStation.”

Okay. So let’s talk about multiplatform games, then. The Xbox One X is Microsoft’s attempt to be able to say that games like Call of Duty and Destiny run the best on their console. The Xbox One X has seen great developer support, loads of developers are jumping on board to support the console with 4K and enhancement patches… but on the other hand, do you think that the Xbox One X getting so much support might inadvertently end up helping Sony and the PS4 Pro as well? In that now more developers who were previously not supporting it are now supporting it along the way with the Xbox One X as well?

I’m sure that that’s right. I think that the PS4 Pro also has the benefit benefit of being priced lower, and it seems to be selling a bit better, though that is a bit hard to tell with retail, because we don’t know exactly how many Xbox One Xs were shipped; they’re probably sold out for a few weeks. But yeah, I think that as opposed to the Xbox One X helping the PS4 Pro, I think the very low price of 4KTVs now is helping both. So if you’re going to buy a new TV now, say it’s time to replace your main TV, it no longer makes sense to buy 1080p TVs. The difference in price between 4K and 1080p screens is now negligible, literally a hundred bucks. So it just doesn’t make sense. So if you’re a gamer, and you’re playing on a 40 inch TV, the difference in price is literally negligible. So once you make the decision to get a 4KTV, you might as well get a PS4 Pro or an Xbox One X- and I know the Pro is not actually 4K, but that is how it is marketed. So, yes, I think all these things are connected. More 4KTVs lead to more sales for PS4 Pro and Xbox One X, and more sales for those systems lead to more developer support for both. And you’re right, once you make a game enhanced for Xbox One X, you might as well do it for the PS4 Pro. So sure, you’re definitely right.

““Once you make a game enhanced for Xbox One X, you might as well do it for the PS4 Pro.””

Okay, I want to go back to the Switch, now. You talked about how Nintendo definitely won this year with their exclusives lineup. Will they be able to maintain this sort of momentum in 2018?

No chance. I think that Mario and Zelda are evergreen titles, so of course if you haven’t played Odyssey yet, and it’s a fantastic game, and if you haven’t played Breath of the Wild ever, it’s new to you. So there’s an audience out there who hasn’t purchased a Switch yet, and when they do, Mario and Zelda will be new games for them- so I think those two games will keep driving system sales for sure. So the answer is, they will keep up some momentum. But the reason I don’t think they can keep up this sort of momentum in 2018 is, I don’t think Nintendo can keep up this cadence of game releases. So, I don’t expect they will have any game of this profile- there probably is a Smash Bros. game coming some day, it could be next year. If that gets announced, then yes, I could see the Switch keep up its momentum. If Smash is a 2019 title, then I think there will be a while where Switch sales level of, but they will stay strong- but more like 15 million in the west and Japan, plus whatever they can sell in China, although I think a lot of people are overestimating what they can sell in China too.

So, for this year, we have the NPD numbers for December, which will be announced in January- would you like to guess which console comes out in top this month?

You know, I’d say that Sony will sell more PS4s in November and December in the US, but not by a ton, I think Xbox will be close. I think Switch is not supply constrained, but you know, it looks like PS4 outsold Switch by a healthy margin, and the Xbox as well. In December, I think PS4 wins again- I don’t think Nintendo has the capacity to ship that many units, Sony meanwhile can sell 3, 4, 5 million consoles in December alone. And I don’t think Switch will sell below 3 million, I think that’s impossible, I don’t think Nintendo would ship that few.

So in December, you think it will be PS4, then Xbox, then Switch.

Xbox, the problem is the Xbox One X is expensive and in tight supply. The Xbox One S is remaining discounted at $ 189, which I think works in its favour. If I am buying the first console for my household, it’s hard for me to justify buying a Switch for $ 300 plus two games for $ 120, when I can buy an Xbox One S for $ 189, and two older games for cheaper, and walk out the door for $ 250. It’s a significantly lower entry point. I just don’t know how I can tell someone with a straight face, ‘your 8 year old boy needs a $ 300 Switch with Mario and Zelda’; that’s a lot of money.

Okay, going back to Xbox, one thing you are getting at is Xbox’s larger appeal for the more mainstream crowd. But even for the core crowd, they have made some great initiatives this year, services like the Game Pass, cross platform play, backward compatibility, Play Anywhere, EA Access, so on… do you think all of these help the console’s appeal, or is it more about user base retention within the Xbox ecosystem?

I think it’s more about retention. It’s impossible to know how many people are sold on Xbox because of Game Pass or EA Access; when you walk into a store, and if you were a brand new console purchaser, and you ask for someone for help, I don’t think anyone will say ‘get an Xbox for EA Access,” I can’t imagine that. So I don’t think Microsoft is driving new purchases with these- the truth is, if you go to buy a new console now, you look at the price of the hardware, and the library of games. And both consoles, PS4 and Xbox, have pretty deep libraries. Just the idea that you can get 3-5 games at the outset for not that much money for both reinforces that.

I think one great Xbox feature os backward compatibility; the idea that a $ 5 copy of RDR for Xbox 360 will work on Xbox One as well is a good deal. So that might drive system sales, but the truth is, while Xbox has done a lot right with their services, most of these things are for the exiting install base, not for a new one.

““I don’t think Microsoft is driving new hardware purchases with services like Game Pass.””

Speaking of services in a different sense, one topic that has been in the discourse a lot lately is microsotransactions and loot boxes; some analysts say they are here to stay, others say that we need an increase in the base price of a video game- which of the alternative are likelier?

Higher priced games will never happen. Publishers seem to have accepted $ 60 price points as the right price points. And though we have had inflation, games have stuck to this price for a while. That’s not going up. I think that the problem the publishers have is, they want to make money, and the cost of maintaining a multiplayer experience has gone up. So when they used to make a single player game only, they had just a self contained experience on the disc, no obligation on the part of the publisher to provide ongoing content or maintenance. And once a game was sold to the consumer, the publisher had given the consumer everything they owed for those $ 60. Now, with multiplayer, you have consumers who have been trained to expect more content and ongoing maintenance, and that’s great, gamers develop relations with their games, you can see how they react when a popular game goes offline, for example.

So the publishers came up with DLC, by trying to sell them more content for $ 15 or $ 20 per download; but what happened was, on a big game, they would only achieve 30-40% sales on the first pack, 20-30% on the second, and 10-20% on the third, which didn’t help cover for ongoing costs, especially since DLC seems to have an in built cap of $ 20 that consumers will spend on it. So if you have a lot of money, and you will engage with the game a lot, you will still pay only the $ 20 that I will pay if I play it for a week. So what they came up with is like a free-to-play model, which started on PC in China, then spread to PCs all over the world, and now to consoles, where thy add micotransactions, going after the whale who will spend $ 100 a month. So instead of selling something for $ 20 every once in a while, they sell things for $ 100 every month. And EA has proven with Ultimate Team that that works, that there are whales out there- EA gets $ 600 million in microtransactions from Ultimate Team alone.

So yes I expect microtransactions to stay around- and I expect that if they do, they will try and keep their games alive for many years. I think the problem is in the implementation. I don’t think gamers are wrong to expect certain things as part of the package if they buy a game for $ 60; I don’t think publishers are right to lock away Darth Vader in a $ 60 Star Wars game, if you buy Star Was, you ought to get Darth Vader from the get go. But, I don’t agree that microtransactions should be eliminated, because that would basically mean we regress to single player games only. People like playing multiplayer- and when they play multiplayer, they spend far more hours on a game than they do when they play just single player, and you know that. So hypothetically you should pay more for the ongoing experience, too. And players say “I pay for Xbox Live and PSN’” and that’s great, but the publisher doesn’t get a dime of that. So the publisher has to have a way to monetize, and the publishers who are adored by gamers are the ones who don’t implement pay to win mechanics in their games- like Blizzard with Overwatch. Customization, people are willing to pay for. So EA made the mistake of locking up characters and progression, and I think the complaints were legitimate.

On the other hand, let’s be real, when you play a game, there are plenty of unlocks. I remember, one of the older Call of Duty games, playing and I got a weapon when I reached Level 30, and I was so psyched, and I saw a better machine gun, and I knew you get it at a higher level, and that gave me an incentive to keep playing the game. I just had to keep playing the game to get a better weapon- and that’s the kind of thing we are used to. We all understand that- it’s just locking away actual content…

There’s an art to microtransactions, where you present the gamer with a balanced opportunity to earn something by grinding it out, or cut to the chase and pay for it. An the art is in making it fair. If it takes 80 hours to to earn something, and costs 50 cents, then even at that price, that’s pay to win. If it costs $ 1000 to unlock, but it takes you five minutes to get it, no-one complains. It’s extreme as an example, but the art is in making something that seems fair.

So they will stay, but it comes down to implementation.

Oh, absolutely. Yes. And as I said, it’s too big of an opportunity, look at League of Legends or World of Tanks, earning hundreds of millions every year. But again, implementation- have you ever heard anyone complain about GTA Online? The reason is, GTA is a single player game, there is no expectation for additional content. But they give you multiplayer as an additional option anyway- you just have to pay. Take Two implemented it in a very smart way, to be honest. So GTA5 gives you an 80 hour experience for $ 60, and the multiplayer is a bonus- and people don’t mind paying for that bonus. Star Wars, who knows what the single player is like, people are buying it for the multiplayer, that’s the appeal- and it is contingent on EA to balance the microtransactions in the multiplayer family for there to not be a backlash.

Okay. So now I want to go back to games for a bit. There were a few I want to talk to you about- the first one is an apparently upcoming open world AAA RPG from Playground Games, the folks behind Forza Horizon 3. Do you have any insight as to whether this might b exclusive to Xbox, or if they are going multiplatform with this?

I have no idea, I’m sorry.

Okay. The next one I had was Ghosts of Tsushima on Sony’s side, which looks pretty cool, like a ninja-Assassin’s Creed kind of thing. And, the last time I talked to you, I asked you for your opinion on various games- what is your opinion on Tsushima? Do you think this has broad commercial appeal?

I don’t think anything that Japanese has broad appeal. They’re great gams and get high ratings, and the hardcore audiences love them. But, for the average audience, they’re hard games. They’re too hard for most people. I mean, I played Persona 5, one of the highest rated games ever, and I like it, but I can’t believe it went on to sell as many copies as it did. It’s just not the kind of game that seems like it has mass appeal, even though it’s one of the best games ever made, and probably wins Game of the Year. But… going back to Tsushima, no, I don’t think it has broad appeal either.

““I think The Elder Scrolls 6 is coming next year- maybe they announce it at E3.””

Okay, so broad appeal- GTA6 and The Elder Scrolls 6, why do you think these two have not been announced yet?

Well, GTA, probably because it’s not coming out any time soon. So that’s that. I’ll take over/under on 2022, I say it comes out after 2022. Remember, Red Dead 2 came out eight years after the first one- so the idea that GTA6 comes out before 2021 seems ridiculous. And Rockstar, the only announcements they’ve ever made more than a year before launch was because the launch itself was delayed. So best case, GTA6 gets announced in 2020 for a 2021 release…

Elder Scrolls, I personally think they are working on it. You know, Pete Hines took me on this year after July when I said they might be working on it, he said it’s not coming this year. So I think it’s coming next year- maybe they announce it at E3. But, if I’m wrong, then I’ll say this next year, and then the year after that. But it’s in development.

Okay, so going back to the idea of the resolution war- early in the generation, Sony managed to use to great effect to establish themselves as the more powerful console for multiplatform games. It’s a strategy we’ve seen Microsoft attempt with the Xbox One X, but it doesn’t seem to be sticking as well. Why do you think that is?

Because it’s priced far higher than the alternatives. The Xbox One X is $ 500, and four weeks later, the PS4 Slim was available for $ 199, and the Xbox One S for $ 189. You could buy one of each for the price of a Xbox One X. So I think the One X has a lot of appeal for the existing Xbox owner, but I don’t know how much appeal for a new console owner. It’s just too expensive. If it ever comes down in price to $ 299, I think it will sell amazingly well.

So, let’s talk about single player games. The general consensus seems to be that there is a shift towards multiplayer games as a service on the whole, and that single player games will be sidelined. Do you think that is actually what we are trending towards? Or is that analysis an overreaction?

I think that sidelined is an overstatement, but I guess there’s more money in games as a service- this was something I talked about previously. The opportunity to sell someone a game for $ 60, an then collect microtrasnaction even regularly for a year or more is a big deal. For example, again, GTA- a single player game, and yet GTA Online did more than $ 100 last quarter. So they’re earning almost half a million dollars a year from micotransaction on top of the revenue from the actual sales of the game, that’s just too lucrative to pass up. So, the question is, will the next GTA be designed differently, where the single player campaign has the microtransactions bleed into it? Or will they go the same route, a 97 rated single player game, and then later add on multiplayer? I think the Rockstar guys created a compelling formula, to be honest- a compelling single player game with a multiplayer game built around it. So the answer is, you’re going to see both. There’s a reason that GTA5 is the best selling game of all time- and that’s because people buy it for the single player, and there’s a reason GTA Online earns so much money- because people stay for the multiplayer after the single player is done. So games should be able to have both.

But on the other hand, I have read statistics on how many Call of Duty players don’t even play the single player, they just jump into the multiplayer, or how most of FIFA is played in Ultimate Team online. So gamers are telling publishers that they like multiplayer- publishers recognize that they can make money in multiplayer. But even then, single player won’t be sidelined, multiplayer will just be emphasized. Remember, this all starts with the developer, and the best developers in the world pretty much make only single player games, like Kojima or Ken Levine. So- I don’t think single player games are going away or being sidelined, as much as multiplayer games’ potential for monetization is being recognized.

Okay. So I think one of the things you are getting at is that the future might be something like the GTA model where there is a satisfying single player campaign, with a compelling multiplayer mode added on-

I think that would be the goal for all publishers, to have a game that’s even a quarter as successful as GTA. But we’ll see how it goes, even with Red Dad. I think they’ll follow the same model, a compelling 60 hour campaign an then multiplayer on top of that. I don’t know if the setting means that the multiplayer will be as compelling, you know, the Old West versus modernity, but maybe.

Okay, so Rockstar apparently has the formula down. EA- well , as we discussed, they seem to be doing fine with sports games, but with non sports game, they are clearly struggling with how to effectively monetize their games, they’ve been too aggressive. And, of course, they’ve been making a lot of other missteps too, for example Mass Effect Andromeda was a big failure for them this year. Do you think this all affects the chances EA’s upcoming Anthem has at success? A nw games as a service game by a company in the public eye for not doing them well, and the new game by a developer whose last game was criticized is heavily?

Yeah, good question. I think if you look at companies that are successful in microtransactions, you’ll see that they are either making mobile games or free to play PC games. So there’s some formula to creating a compelling game along those lines that doesn’t seem to have translated over that well to console games yet by big publishers. I think the analogy is, the big publishers are like movie studios making these cinematic experiences, like Sony with Uncharted and Rockstar with GTA. So deciding that you like the other model, the mobile or League of Legends model, that’s not say to do- if it were, you’d see every company doing it. So the question for Anthem is, will A screw it up like with Star Wars? Or will they follow the Overwatch and destiny roadmap, where the actual game is fun to play and the payments are ancillary? Because where they got into trouble with Star Wars was in making it pay to win. Had they limited themselves to purely cosmetic items, I don’t think anyone would have said anything. So Anthem has the potential to be Destiny like in terms of game experience, and Overwatch like in terms of mcirotansactions offered, where it’s all cosmetic and no one bats an eye. But the truth is, Bioware has made several games that have sold around 5 million, so I’m very comfortable saying Anthem will sell at least that much. 7 or 8 million? Yes, if it’s a great game. 10 or 20 million? Probably not, but we’ll find out. Bungie did that with Destiny, Blizzard does that all the time. Biowae hasn’t yet done that.

But I’m encouraged because we have Casey Hudson back, since he is very capable- so I am confident Anthem will be great, and it will do well, on the whole.

““I’m encouraged because we have Casey Hudson back, since he is very capable- so I am confident Anthem will be great, and it will do well, on the whole.””

So you think there’s potential for it to do ell as long as EA doesn’t go all pay to win again.

Yeah. I think right now EA is on probation with gamers. I think everyone is watching everything they do. I don’t think they can afford to put an onerous mcrotransaction scheme in any game going forward, they need to re-earn gamers’ trust again. So I hope they are sobered by this experience, and learn from it. But I think they are smart people, so I am sure they will do the right thing going forward. We’ll see.

Okay. Do you think that we’re moving towards an all digital market? 100% digital delivery?

The problem with 100% digital is that as long as we have consoles, there has to be a trail store that sells it to you. I mean we can buy hardware on Amazon, but you still need a trail location selling it for a lot of people. So you’re never have a console that’s purely digital just for that- until the console is eliminated altogether. But if you get someone, say Amazon, as a seller of true game streaming or Game Pass style services, then yes, something like that might happen. And I think each time Amazon is selling something like an Echo Show, which has its own screen, and an Intel chip with a powerful microprocessor, and a GPU, they’re getting closer to a game console. Because if you’re selling something that can manage a person’s home entirely, why not throw gaming capabilities in there too? So I actually think at we are moving toward a world where at least very healthy people have these multi function devices in their homes, and in 10 years, I think that they will have penetrated 20-30% of above median income households. So you end up with 200-300 million households globally with these devices in them- why not put your games on them as well?

So, yes, a full digital system might happen- but if it does, it won’t be a traditional console, it will be something like this, and it won’t happen this generation, or even this decade.

So a lot like the move towards smartphones and tablets, but on an even bigger level.

Yes. It’s amazing what you can do with these devices, and how they link together. But I remember when Apple first said they would make a phone back in 2006, I thought it was the dumbest idea ever, I had my Motorola, and I was perfectly happy with it. But now, ten generations of the iPhone later, there are hundreds of millions of them sold. And we have hundreds of apps we all use- so even if the idea sounds alien now, yes, I think that is exactly the kind of shift we will see with these home devices for consoles.

We’ve talked about games as a service, games via digital delivery, and so on. One company that has been prescient with all of this, that has been ahead of the curve, has been Valve. One the last ten years, they made the shift to digital delivery, to microtransactions, to games as a service. But in all of this, the single player experiences that the company was known for have fallen by the wayside, a new Portal or Half Life game seems to be far distant and in the future right now. Do you think that Valve is still working on new single player experience? Or do you think they are going all in on their current games as a service model?

I would be really disappointed if Valve wasn’t working on Half Life 3. I know it’s been 12 years since the last one. But I’d still think they are working on it. I would b really disappointed if they weren’t working on a Portal 3, too. I know a lot of their writers have left the company, but I would still be disappointed. Those are valued properties that they should use continue producing, if only for the fans who brought them the success they have today. So- that doesn’t mean they can’t keep doing DOTA or Team Fortress or Counter Strike- I am sure they will keep enveloping those. But I think tat that company is very profitable and passionate, and I think they are consumer focused. Their games have open architecture, they encourage users to modify their games- even Counter Strike was born out of user mods for Half Life. What a great company, saying, ‘no, we don’t know better’. If they had never allowed that mod, they would be a single player game company today, I think. So those user mods matter too. So I think they will keep doing what they have been doing, that includes single player games- it’s just taking a long time for them to come out.

I really hope you’re right!

One of my worst predictions ever was when I said that Half Life 3 would launch with the Steam Machine, and be playable only on that. So, obviously I have been consistently wrong about Valve, an also about Bethesda and Elder Scrolls, and Rockstar and GTA… so, I guess I’m an optimist when it comes to these companies.

Well, hopefully your optimism spills over into my next question. That’s about Metal Gear- Metal Gear is a popular franchise, but it seems to not have much of a future right now because of the Kojima-Konami fallout. Right now Konami is working on Metal Gear Survive, which is most charitably described as a spin-off… but do you think there is a future for Metal Gear beyond that game?

I don’t understand how anyone can think that brand can survive without Kojima, so- I- no. I think that there are some games where the lead is so central to the success of the game that the game is nothing without the lead. I think that Mortal Kombat and Ed Boon, or the Housers and GTA; and I think Kojima is so central to the look, feel, story, and art style of Metal Gear, that without him, I think Metal Gear is over. Metal Gear as we know it is over. It’s done.

Do you think Metal Gear fans will be well served by Death Stranding?

Its the day before The Game Awards, and I’m hopeful we learn more about the game tomorrow. There’s going to be something told about it. And… most Japanese games are bizarre, but we love some of them anyway. I mean, Katamari is so weird, and I love that game. I couldn’t stop playing it. Or look at Final Fantasy- compelling, or bizarre. I on’t think Kojima is quite as bizarre as other Japanese developers. He has this crossover appeal- so does Miyamoto. I think it’s something to do with their personalities, they are really likeable people, ad they are open to thinking about other people and cultures, which translates into their games.

So yes, I think Death Stranding will b a phenomenal success, I think Kojima is on of the finest developers who ever walked the planet. I will play his games no matter what they are called or what they look like.

Another game I want to talk about is Pokemon- you said that the Switch’s momentum in 2018 is contingent entirely upon the release of Smash Bros. But what about Pokemon? Assuming Pokemon does come out next year on Switch, what do think its potential for success is as the first console Pokemon game ever?

You know, Pokemon will come out and sell well. It’s an interesting question, because I don’t think of Pokemon as a system seller for consoles- I think of it as one for handhelds. So this brings us back to whether we consider the Switch as a console or a handheld. I know Nintendo views it as both, but I personally think of it as a handheld. And I also think that at $ 300, it’s way too expensive for a handheld, which means that once the hardcore fans have bought one, it’s going to be viewed as an expensive handheld because of the price. And if that’s the case, I don’t think Pokemon pushes it over the top. I think Pokemon has mass appeal, and it sells tons of millions of copies to a lot of people- but I don’t think that those people will spend $ 300 on one game, while I think that Smash Bros. fans will spend $ 300 for the one gam that pushes them over the edge. So, no, I don’t think Pokemon will be a system seller for a $ 300 console. Yes, it is one for a $ 129 handheld- but not for a $ 300 console.

““I don’t think Pokemon will be a system seller for a $ 300 console. Yes, it is one for a $ 129 handheld- but not for a $ 300 console.””

Okay, so this brings us to the question of price. Do you think the Switch, PS4 Pro, and Xbox One X might get price cuts any time soon?

PS4 Pro I think you will get a price cut for next year. I think they will take the Slim to $ 199 permanently and knock the Pro down to $ 299 after that. I don’t think the Switch gets a price cut until October 2018, mostly because I don’t think Nintendo has a big profit margin on it. So once economies of scale kick in and production costs fall, then I can see the price dropping. Xbox One X, we’ll see. I don’t think it can sell tens of millions of units at its price. My guess is it is $ 400 this time next year- but that still feels too expensive.

Alright- and for my final question, which 2018 game are you personally looking forward to the most?

Probably for me, Red Dead Redemption 2. I think that’s coming at about the right time. I’m not a big Anthem player, I don’t play games like destiny. Not a Battlefield player, Black Ops is not my favorite of the Call of Duty series… to be honest, the first game I will play next year will be Far Cry. I love that series, and this new one looks special. So that will be the first game I play. But I will definitely play Red Dead as well.

Hopefully it lives up to all the expectations!

Yeah, Rockstar does great work. I don’t think there’s a chance Red Dead isn’t 90+ rated.

Well, thank you for your time!

No problem, thank you for the chat.

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