#WHICH ALIEN REPLACED HIM??? I'M SERIOUS WHICH ONE OF YOU DID THIS??

[somedaytakethetime]

daddy Father 😶

[christiansorrell]

TTRPG Read-Through: Traveller - Book 1

Here is a read-through I did about a year and a half ago (originally posted on Twitter) of one of the all time classics: Traveller by Game Designers' Workshop! This read-through just covers Book 1 - Characters and Combat from the original Traveller box set trio of books. - Christian

This is the 1981 Second Edition printing of the classic Traveller three zine box set! Been wanting to read this for ages now. It's discussed A LOT in Mothership circles.

Really interesting to see GM-less and solo play options here. Didn't realize that was being done explicitly at this time. Also, nice to see "he or she" language here rather than the just "he" you see a lot in older games.

The UPP is clearly the creation of an utterly deranged mind. This seems like a huge overcomplication of just listing stats (unless all your players are proficient in hexadecimal).

[Hi, it's me from the future here (aka now - 2024): I've learned to embrace and love the UPP (or more specifically the planet stat version from one of the other books). It's complicated at first but really quick and cool once you know how to read it.]

I really like Social Standing as a stat replacement for charisma or charm or other social skills you tend to see. Feels like it would have more impact on the story and less of a "Roll to see if you convince him, I guess" sort of anticlimax social skills have most of the time.

I'm now into the "you can die during char creation in Traveller" bits. Really cool in some ways. Really comical in others. It recommends you enlist your bad stat characters into the Scout service because of it's high mortality rate (so you can roll a diff char before play), lol.

Essentially, you roll stats and that's your entire character but to give them some experience they can enlist in a Service. You have to roll to get in and may get rejected. If so, you submit to the draft (get into one at random). You can die. You can gain skills and promotions.

Honestly, the char creation feels like a solo game unto itself. Risk v reward of how far to push your enlistments to boost your skills and standing and benefits. You could have a whole story in your head by the end of it. Great Session 0 material.

As a 34 yr old, this hurts. Apparently, I have -1 Strength, Dexterity and Endurance now...

I admire commitment but asking GMs to use this full char creator for all NPCs (which means generating chars until you get one capable of filling the role you need) is truly too wild. Best part: at the end, it just says you can also pick whatever you want for stats and skills.

The weapons and intro text have much more of a space as a new age of sail vibe to them than I was anticipating. It's cool. Far more Dune than Alien (so far).

Interestingly (unless I missed something), skills are detached from your stats. Your base stats make getting into a Service easier and help you with Saving Throws and such, but skills have their own modifiers based on the situation and your expertise. It's cool (if a bit dense)!

In case you were wondering, there is absolutely no art in this entire book. I'm hoping we'll get some in one of the other two books with vehicles and ships and such but won't be holding my breath. Gives the whole thing a very Serious vibe.

Always interesting to see how older games chose to handle this (or not).

Here's the UPP in action along with quick listing of other character info. Interesting even if it is just too overcomplicated for my tastes.

Can't overstate how much char creation feels like a whole solo game of its own. You can roll a character at age 18 and have them go through seven 4-yr terms in a Service before retiring and having substantial cash, specific possessions, memberships and social standings. Wild.

The character sheet mentions PSIONICS which is exciting (but I'll have to wait till Book 3 for more on that apparently).

Combat is straightforward but has some unique bits: a focus on stealth as an option and movement/attacks occur by all parties simultaneously which means everyone (enemies too) gets to move and then everyone chooses who to attack and you roll them all. Sounds really fun.

Stats have cool effects in battle. Your Endurance stat is the number of attacks you can make before needing to rest (can you imagine if DnD just didn't let you do a base attack at a point?). Strength and Dex can boost or lower certain weapon rolls like you'd expect.

If trained in a weapon, you can give your expertise as a negative mod to your enemy's rolls to attack you to reflect parrying and blocking which is cool. The skills also add to your attack rolls. Skills just seem really useful overall here.

I just love that we get stats for broadswords, revolvers, and laser carbines. Plus, there are even special tables for archaic weapons for when encountering lower-tech civilizations. It feels like a really wide open interpretation of what space could look like. Feels exciting.

A few more equipment tables and a final quick reference page at the back and that's all for Book 1. I'll be back with Book 2 and 3 in the coming days!

Main thoughts: Character creation is very involved but really cool - its own game practically. Skills are very deep in a way that feels refreshing when compared to more stat-focused games. Combat has some fun, chaotic twists. Feels like a wide universe of possibility here so far.

I'll add Books 2 and 3 to this thread when I give them their own read-throughs. In the meantime, here's my newsletter (last two months have Mothership freebies): https://meatcastle.substack.com

And here's my website (with links to my games and modules and all that good stuff): https://shop.meatcastlegameware.com/

Thanks for reading!

[tempestswing]

Ranking the Dark Council:

hi! I was writing some notes for a piece of SWTOR fiction I am working on, and decided to create this list as a fun way to share that information.

Dark Council Pre-Shadow of Revan:

12. Darth Aruk - we know nothing about this character, other than that they were head of the Sphere of Sith Philosophy. According to the Wiki, rooting out Revanites was supposed to be their job. What a failure, hopefully they still have a job after Shadow of Revan?

11. Darth Rictus - Also kind of a mystery, which is ironic since he was head of the Sphere of Mysteries. Rictus does appear in a novel called 'Annihilation', but that book is mostly about Theron Shan. All we really know about Rictus is that he's (A) old, (B) dislikes aliens, unless they're murderous enough, and (C) founded the Dread Executioners to take down the Dread Masters. Not enough information to rank any higher.

10. Darth Acharon - at least this guy appears in the game. He's kind of a nothing character though. He defended the imperial occupation of Corellia unsuccessfully. He was head of the Sphere of Biotics. Since he died on Corellia, he would presumably have been replaced by Shadow of Revan, but we don't know who by.

9. Darth Arkous - hate this guy, but he's still technically head of the Sphere of Military Offense after the Hutt Cartel plotline. God, what a bag of dicks he is though. The one good thing about this character is that he's technically Lana Beniko's master? Although she's an advisor rather than an apprentice, so he gets no credit for the existence of awesome Sith wife.

8. Darth Decimus - Also found in game on Corellia! Decimus is actually present in the imperial quests, so you get a lot more interaction with him than Acharon. Canonically, he also trained Krovos! Krovos is really cool, so decimus should get a few points by association. Not enough to bump him up the list though. For the head of Military Strategy, he's not a very good commander.

7. Darth Ravage - You can meet Ravage at the end of the Inquisitor and Warrior storylines, and for all imperials he is present during the cutscenes preceding the Emperor Malgus flashpoints (although does nothing to help?). The main reason I'm putting Ravage so low is that he's a little bit inconsistently written. He'll gladly say "good riddance" to Darth Thanaton's death in the inquisitor plotline, but if you kill Baras in the Warrior plotline, he'll show up at Nathema and be all offended that you claimed power by murdering your master... does he know what a Sith is?

6. Darth Mortis - I have a bit of a soft spot for Mortis. He's got a no-nonsense demeanour which is rare amongst Sith, and he's clearly serious enough about their philosophy to join a secret conspiracy against the alliance if you "squander" the power of the Eternal Throne - a petty move, this man is a bitch after my own heart. He also is the one who snaps Darth Thanaton's silly little neck, which definitely earns him a few points in my eyes. As a point, he's involved in the Macrobinocular missions, which I did not enjoy, but he was a highlight of the questline.

5. Darth Acina - WOMEN IN POWER!!! Empress Acina is better than Emperor Vitiate. Unfortunately Acina is kind of bland, I really don't feel strongly about her either way. I've killed her on Iokath in most of my playthroughs, even if I don't intend to defect to the republic later. I might be lesbian but I just don't like her that much. Her reforms to the Empire are interesting though, I do have to give her credit for making the Empire slightly less racist and Sith dominated.

4. Darth Vowrawn - Silly guy!! This man is genuinely quite funny. He's a blast to spend time with at the end of the Warrior story, after dealing with Baras' grumpy ass for close to fifty levels. His choice to help the Wrath with the Hand on Rishi says... something. He's genuinely an interesting character to me, especially since he maintains that joviality when he becomes Emperor. It's tempered, to be sure, but I think it does show it wasn't entirely an act. Vowrawn could be a genuine friend to the Wrath.

3. Darth Jadus - Sue me, I like unapologetically evil characters. Jadus is not just an evil clown, he's an evil circus. Schemer to the core and melodramatic as fuck. I chose to serve him without a second thought in my agent playthrough. I appreciated the name drop on Iokath and I have 1% chance 99% cope that he will return at some point in the story.

2. Darth Occlus/Nox/Imperius - OCs are fun. No further notes. I should probably drop the lore for my verison of this character, huh... maybe in another post.

Darth Marr - Everyone's favourite tired Dad just trying to keep his society from collapsing as his colleagues bicker about inane bullshit. I reckon he drinks coffee straight outta the pot in the Dark Council's break room. I really wish he hadn't died, but his force ghost shenanigans were neat and I liked seeing him find a measure of redemption. Again, I am on a high dose of copium but if Malgus can return after being killed and abandonded on an exploding space station why can't someone scrape Marr off the floor of Zakuul and rebuild him. I do also low-key ship Marr with Satele Shan?

anyway, that's my totally subjective ranking of Dark Council members.

[gaykarstaagforever]

I only watched this because I saw this promo on Max:

And I couldn't figure out what the hell the title of the movie was.

XWN? ICIN?

I don't know what the hell Max did to fuck up the colors on this, but this is what the French poster looks like

I can read that.

It's called, KIN, from 2018. And it's whatever.

A kid finds an alien space gun in an abandoned building, and shenanigans ensue. ...Except this isn't a 1980s movie or a comedy, so no one is having any fun with this.

Except James Franco (yuk), who decided that the Detroit gangster antagonist he is playing is the Toe Cutter from Mad Max, and none of these first-time filmmakers told him to please stop. The rest of the movie is desperately trying to be a serious melodrama about brotherhood - when the space gun isn't eating up the budget for only 10 out of the 90+ minutes - but then James Franco shows up in a leather jacket with his army of fanatically-loyal vikings and starts blowing up a police station. And I know that sounds fun, but it absolutely isn't.

The gun and the aliens who are trying to retrieve it are legally distinct from Mass Effect aliens and guns, because while Mass Effect uses blue and orange, KIN uses aquamarine and red! Also, they do actually explain why the aliens and gun were in that abandoned warehouse in the first place, but the explanation is meh, and sequel-baits. And this is NOT getting a sequel.

The guy who wrote the screenplay is my age, and apparently this is his first one? Or first professional one, after he did some Sundance movie. After this they let him write Fast and the Furious 9. He is 42, and he writes like a 25 year old who really likes RoboCop, but doesn't understand why he likes RoboCop. That's mean, but this guy is my age, and no one my age should ever be putting the line "Even when you're by yourself, you're never alone," in a movie, unless that movie is about Kevin Sorbo bothering people about Jesus. Because in that case, who gives a shit, right? Certainly not Kevin Sorbo.

...I'm getting distracted. Why am I even posting this? I will forget about this movie in 2 days, like Dennis Quaid certainly did, after sleepily muttering through about half of it, until he gets shot (not by the space gun, unfortunately).

Zoe Kravitz is in this too. She's good playing a stripper with a heart of gold, but uuuuuuugh, come on, 42 year old guy who wrote this. Your movie should never have a stripper with a heart of gold in it, unless it stars Kevin Sorbo as a missionary, who...

Stop. It is well-shot and well-directed, for what it is. The special effects are really good, the few there are. Even the ones for things that were kind of unnecessary, so we get some spectacular "why did they bother with that" scenes instead of more scenes of the space gun shooting people. And this movie REALLY needed more space gun.

There are moments where they contrive it so that the space gun gets taken away, and you know it will be replaced by another half-hour of bad dialogue, rehashing the same unengaging boiler-plate "family is important, dawg," crap that we've already been through several times by now. It gets pretty infuriating. I became Milhouse, crying for the damn fireworks factory.

I was constantly reminded of the 2011 movie Attack the Block, which is weird, because I've never seen that. But I hear it is better and is also about aliens and blighted urban landscapes? I don't know. Maybe Kevin Sorbo is in it.

[kariachi]

I really think it goes back to the writers having that nice brand of 'a good female character is Perfect and Right and always Better and Smarter than the boys and will always remind that they are Superior' brand of misogyny that just leads to the ladies being assholes whose bullshit is minimized. Even for characters who aren't getting the full treatment themselves. In these cases it seems to lead to a place of 'if we have the guys causing problems than it's a Problem because it's more serious when guys do things, but if we have the ladies causing problems then we can and must dust it under the rug because of course it's not as serious as all that'. An amazingly pervasive form of misogyny in the last 20-or-so years.

And from an in-universe perspective, I have to assume relation to Verdona plays a role, because three of the problems are her and her grandchildren, but I also have a theory that Tennysons just have this tendency to go 'I'm going to help' and just run with their first idea without actually thinking about it. Because Vera's whole thing was 'I'm going to help out around here' and then she didn't ask how she could help, she just decided what she was going to do and did it no matter what anybody said or whether it helped or not. And Gwen's whole thing in Kevin's matter chimera arc was 'I'm going to help Kevin' and then she threw herself into research without a second thought to asking how she could help him, or even for any potentially useful information. And even in Verdona's premiere, Gwen's parents and Ben immediately jump to 'we're going to support Gwen's decision to leave' before she'd even made it and so end up doing shit like assuring her that she's replaceable. They just seem to have a nice combination going of 'my good intentions will carry me' and 'but they're family' that, has to be a fucking mess below the surface. Like no wonder there's so many secrets in that family, it'd dissolve like tissue paper.

That really is the vibe Gwen gives. Like she's watched too many middle school and teen romances where everything is Power of Love and a guy not knowing you prefer two squeezes of ketchup over your fries instead of three means he's a selfish jerk who needs to be Fixed or Left. Add in this desire to fix fuckers and a lack of acceptance of other people's boundaries...

And I also can't verify but I'd swear that came up in a scene where Gwen could read fuckers' minds and then it was just, never used again (which, theme with Gwen and Kevin, they're handled like old school superhero comics I swear- 'this issue Superman shows he can fart a pheromone that lures ants, this will never come up again in the next forty-two years of comics'). But again, can't actually verify that one. It would certainly help explain a bit of her bullshit, though it would also bring up a whole load of questions (like how the fuck she falls for people's shit, or why she couldn't figure out shit like 'Lucy isn't Bad').

I've asked it before to electraslight- does Gwen ever actually say why she likes Kevin? Does she ever give a reason? Like, we get reasons from Kevin, but never her. Like, like you said she should be so into tech with him, the shit he can do with tech should impress her, but the show and Gwen both seem to just brush them off. It's weird.

But yeah, the show just, for some reason decided, what? That this was the only reasonable way to bring Kevin into the group? That they needed to attract the yet-untapped Gwevin-fan demographic? Friendship is boring? Character growth is hard? 'If we give the non-white person more focus the studio will catch fire'? There were options out there.

Fuck, add Argit instead of Kevin, I still think we would have gotten a better show. Something more akin to Rooters arc!Argit than AF-canon, give us more blatant alien in Alien Force, force the treatment of aliens as people more than obstacles earlier, we still get Kevin access via Argit, lose the sudden jump from 'trying to kill the Tennysons' to 'working with them' and give more space to see his growth organically rather than having to drop it all on top of us at once, no rushed, toxic romance because like fuck they would have had the balls to set Gwen up with a rat- There's potential there!

*climbs off soapbox*

But anyway, yeah, Kevin and Gwen need-- Therapy, distance, separate lives, different states at minimum, let them grow, let them learn, let them form healthy shit. Then we can see how friendships go.

I don't have the emotional fortitude to write it, but the brain does sometimes mosey over to the potential aftermath of simple shit like 'the Omnitrix is programmed to prevent its wielder from dying', 'Ben is known to occasionally get the wrong alien', and 'falling from great heights is very bad for your health' coming together after Gwen shoves the boys out of the ship during Showdown to result in one dead Kevin.

Like damn but that could be one dramatic and painful storyline.

[unprofessional-bard]

Chapter 12 - The Development, Pt. II

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Losing My Religion Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader/OC

Warnings: TW!!! Mentions of depression/anxiety, lack of appetite and suicide; jealousy (the reader is Angry™️); talks of (unwanted) pregnancy and miscarriage (cult activities).

Summary: Who would've thought a dinner and a bouquet of flowers would ever bare bad omens?

Word Count: 5.588

Author's Note: I apologise for the repost! I forgot to do my taglist + the tags didn't work for me so let me try this again. This is a whole chunk of angst and nothing more. I'm sorry about this but it is going to get darker :')

Enjoy!

gif credit: winterswake

"Oof, this wasn't your greatest idea, you know that right?" You sighed anxiously, hands on your hips.

"I've done many things that weren't so great, sweetpea," Joel wiped his wet hands on the cute little apron around his waist after he put the vegetables he had cut into the bowl which was on the counter next to the cutting board: "We both know it, but this totally ain't one of 'em."

He carried another bowl to the dining room where you stood, gave your exposed neck a brief kiss as he passed by. Kiki and Ward were going to arrive anytime now for Joel's infamous dinner plan. When he put the bowl down, he scanned the table with a puzzled expression: "Why are there two more plates?"

You leaned your weight on one leg as you grabbed the edges of the chair, which stood at the head of the table: "I... invited Tommy and Maria over, too–"

Joel's expression made you feel guilty: "(Y/N)."

"What?" You spoke defensively, a nervous expression on your face and tone to your voice. "It was going to be awkward as shit otherwise."

"You don't know that," He growled. "Not when you pull stunts like this."

"I don't care," You emphasised each word, exhaustion present in your stance. "Better safe than sorry, Joel."

He nodded disapprovingly and walked back to the kitchen as you stood there, your head hanging with a sigh. You slowly raised it up, hands on your hips again, then turned your head to the side just enough for him to hear you over the sound of the steamer: "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," He said when he walked past you, carrying the last piece of dish to the table. His anger wasn't for nothing, you accepted what you did was an ass move.

"You're right." You huffed, which made him look at you. "I'm not sorry for inviting Tommy and Maria over, but I am sorry for upsetting you."

His tense stance eased slowly at your words, then he proceeded to mirror your chair holding pose, huffing quietly: "Well, one of us is gon' have to eat less, I'm more worried about that."

"I'll gladly volunteer, I lost my appetite." You rubbed your eyes, which sported dark circles underneath them– which worried Joel.

He stepped closer to you, reaching for your hip with his dominant hand and began rubbing soothing circles there: "No. You eat. Don't think for a second I didn't notice how you started eatin' less." This whole ordeal was getting to you more than you cared to admit. It had been eight days since your decision to arrange dinner with them, but it clearly didn't escape Joel's notice. You looked down, ashamed, running a hand through your hair nervously: "Hey, look at me," Joel gently took your chin between his fingers and lifted your head up, his nose inches away from yours. The three knocks on your door didn't stop him from saying: "You're worryin' over nothin', sweetheart. It's gonna be alright."

"We'll see," You looked into his eyes with a blank stare, gulping, giving his hand a light squeeze before walking to the door, collecting yourself in the meantime. From the small windows on the door, it wasn't hard to tell the brunette couple had arrived. You took a deep breath as you opened the door with a sincere smile: "Hello there– Come in, welcome."

"Hi!" Kiki grinned and Ward just offered an awkward resemblance of a smile.

After escorting them to the living room, you spoke: "Joel's getting finished in the kitchen, then we can have dinner."

"Joel's cooking?" Kiki gave you an alien look. It wasn't a my goodness what a man I bet he cooks real fine tone, but more a genuinely confused one.

"Uhm, yes?" You lightly flinched but smiled still, equally confused at her question. Giving a brief look at Ward, you noticed how he was staring hard at her and she was pointedly ignoring him. "Don't worry, he actually cooks better than me... haha."

You stared into each other's eyes for five seconds, both of your irises reflecting a pair of question marks at each other, then she let out an odd laugh: "Oh! If you say so... What a beautiful garden you got– Lots of flowers."

"Why, thank you," You smiled a little nervously. "I like taking care of flowers and plants..."

"Oh really? I do– did too, once upon a time..." Kiki did an exaggerated smiley face. "I should bring you some, then!"

"That's very kind of you," You felt yourself soften a little at her words. "Well, how have you both been? Feeling like you two are fitting in? I hope people aren't giving you trouble."

"Oh," Kiki looked at Ward for the first time, who's gaze was focused on you now. "No, I think we started to fit in better–" Ward nodded in agreement, his head turning in her direction: "Gets better every day."

"That's good news," You quietly huffed out a breath of relief, nodding at her words, which was when Joel walked in to greet them, and also when there was another pair of knocks on the door. This time, thank God, it was Tommy and Maria.

The dinner went without a hitch, to say the least. Although it had it's awkward moments, Tommy and Maria always picked it up one way or another. Delicious meals were eaten and wines from your collection with Joel were opened– it was pleasant to a certain degree. You and Joel sat across each other on the other ends of the table, Maria and Tommy sat to your left while Kiki and Ward sat to your right. Kiki was seated by your side, but she mostly had her attention on your husband. She didn't drink, but Ward did, and after his second glass, he seemed to relax more.

When it was time to carry all the plates back to where they came from, Joel and you carried the first party. When you placed them in the sink, and he on the counter, he softly grabbed your hand: "See? Wasn't that bad, was it?"

It sort of was, for you anyway, as much as you tried to calm your nerves with the wine: "Thanks to Tommy and Maria, yeah." Joel sighed through his nose and looked away for a moment: "What?"

"We'll talk about it in the morning." Joel let your hand go, but didn't move away.

"What is there to talk about?" You spoke, frustrated, your arms opening slightly in a gesture. Right then, your eyes moved over his shoulder to the doorway. He turned around to see it was Maria with two of the rect platters in her hands.

"Joel, why don't you go back? (Y/N) and I'll handle it from here." She spoke as she walked over to where you two were, then placed the platters on the counter. He gave you one last look before nodding and walking back inside. As soon as he left, Maria stood very close to you and turned on the water: "You wanna tell me what's going on with you?"

"Not really," You quickly started to wash the plates and she helped with the leftovers.

"(Y/N)," Maria spoke more seriously. "There's obviously something wrong–"

"I didn't say there wasn't, I just don't wanna talk about it right now." You said, turning your head to her a little but not looking her in the eyes. "Please, Maria, I appreciate you and your concern, but–"

"Mind if I help?" Kiki suddenly appeared with more service in her hands, startling you both.

"Not at all," Maria replied in your stead. "I'll leave you two to it, I need to use the bathroom."

You closed your eyes, exhausted, then begged for patience as Kiki replaced Maria's place next to you. She kept a distance, which you also appreciated. After a brief moment of silence, she spoke: "The food was delicious, I'm surprised Joel helped you prepare all of this."

You tried– God knows your tried not to look for a double meaning behind her words, but you failed: "Well, as I said, he cooks better than me."

"No, I mean, he just really helps you around, y'know? Serving, preparing, cleaning..."

You turned to face her, closing the sink, and took a proper look at her: "What's so weird about it? We're partners– Married– There's no helping out, we do it together, as it should be."

"Oh, don't get me wrong," She said after a while, her smile unsettling. "It's just that, I always do the cooking, and preparing, and cleaning. That's what I was taught, while Ward..."

You bit down on your tongue hard as you finally understood what she was getting at, the realisation making you blink once and long, then look away. A silent oh left your lips while you thought about how to respond, forcing a small smile to your lips: "Well... Uh– Why don't you go back, I'll take it from here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I got this, you're our guest, after all."

She smiled and nodded, heading back. As soon as she turned around you let out a silent, heavy breath, looking a little bewildered and disturbed at the things she had said. You stood still for a few moments, then ultimately decided to wash your face, so you took it up to the bathroom.

When you woke up the next morning, you had a mild headache from the wine, no doubt. Joel was nowhere to be found, which had you worried for a second, then you realised it was near noon. After washing your face, you dragged yourself downstairs and once you made it to the kitchen, you found Tommy, Eugene and Joel sitting quietly at the table.

"Mornin' princess," Eugene grinned at you, a cup in his hand. Joel and Tommy had more serious, even a little worried looks on their faces.

"Hey," You waved at them and dragged your feet to the cupboard where you kept your coffee, only to find you had ran out of the beans.

"How're you feelin'?"

"I'm fine... What kinda question is that?" You chuckled.

The brothers shared a brief look before Tommy slowly got up, walked towards the island counter and leaned against it with his elbows: "Listen, (Y/N), we're all a bit worried about you."

"I'm not!" Eugene said clearly. "I mean, I am, but not in the way they are– What's going on with you and the newcomers?"

You stared at the brothers, hard, then turned to Joel: "Is this the new town gossip, then?"

He huffed, crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back in his seat: "It ain't nothin'. We were talking about last night," He gestured between himself and Tommy. "Eugene overheard, expressed his own worries 'bout them and wanted to talk to you."

You felt so exposed –out in the open– with the spotlight moving onto you once more. Your eyebrows furrowed as Joel held your gaze for a while, the other men too scared to interfere; until Eugene spoke: "Look, (Y/N), I get what worries you, even if these two bimbos will say there's nothing wrong. I'm here to vouch for ya."

"Thanks," You shrugged and nodded. You felt embarrassed at the three pairs of eyes waiting for a response from you– speaking to Eugene alone about what actually worried you would've made you feel much better, but you just told them about the interactions between you and Kiki. The more you spoke, the more frustrated you got, which ironically made you close up more.

"Which reminds me," He said some time after you mentioned her offer to bring you a flower. "Do you have, uh, mugwort in your garden?"

The abrupt change of topic caught you off guard, but you still said yes, I think so and walked out from the back door, the old man tailing you. The sun immediately burned down on your skin, but a gentle breeze lightened the load on your shoulders as it accompanied you to the edge of the garden.

"Look, I don't actually need mugwort," He said when you sat down on your knees. "If you wanna say something to me that you think they won't understand, now's your chance."

You moved on with your digging quietly while he waited, then finally, without looking at him and venom dripping from every word you spoke, you sighed: "Kiki has eyes for Joel."

Eugene coughed loudly at your cold words, a hand on his chest: "Shit, (Y/N)..."

"Everyone, including Joel, seems oblivious to this– I'll probably get accused of petty jealousy if I tell them, but since you've had your fair share of weird run-ins with her, I think you should know."

He remained quiet for awhile as you worked with the plant, then finally huffed: "That's not a jealous face from what I can see, it's the face of a woman who's sensing something's gonna go wrong."

You finally looked up at him, your cold expression turned soft because of his sympathy, then looked back down: "I'm losing sleep over some stupid– bitch– God, I was... I've been trying to convince myself that it's nothing, but–"

"It's not nothing, (Y/N)." Eugene spoke firmly, grabbing your shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Something's clearly not right with those two, and you've a right to get worried, 'cause I'm guessing it's not just Joel you're worried about."

You gulped, wiped some sweat off the corner of your brow with your wrist, then nodded.

"Well," He took the plants from your hands. "Thanks for this, and, just know that you're not alone. If you ever wanna talk more about this, you know where to find me. Don't be a stranger."

You did pay Eugene a visit a few days later to talk more about them. You felt more comfortable talking to him alone, and you were talking to him because you didn't want to add more to Joel's tension and strain your relationship again. It also felt good to just talk about the whole thing and have someone who understood you.

You had told him that you had no doubts about Joel's intentions, but about Kiki's and hers alone. He had told you he understood and told you that his door was always open if you needed to talk again, so you went to him a second time in a cool afternoon after Kiki had appeared out of nowhere.

"Flowers! As promised!" She smiled brightly, giving you a tiny bouquet of mixed, yellow flowers.

"Oh, wow," You carefully took the bouquet from her, smiling at the sight and feeling genuinely happy for a moment that she actually did something like this. "Thank you, Kiki."

"Don't mention it," She smiled sincerely and initiated smalltalk, then went about her business. After you closed the door, however, reality came crashing down.

You went to see Eugene then: He had just returned from patrol, so the moment you saw him, you grabbed him and went back to your house. A very old book you owned, The Meanings of Flowers, laid on the dinner table while you sat at the head of the table again, the older man to your right. Beautiful flowers rested above the book, a pair of each: Carnation, hyacinth, marigold, rose and tansy. You already knew the names of the most thanks to your free time activities, so finding them in the book wasn't particularly hard.

"Damn, (Y/N), you're really gettin' into this, aren't you?" Eugene said when you first explained and laid the flowers in front of him as he sat down.

You read through the pages and sat across him. "I think... I have, uh– What if she's asking for help?"

"How do you mean?" He gave you a look, and when you stared at him a while, he slowly got what you were saying. "You... think that too?"

"It's so obvious," You sighed, a sad expression on your face. "It's the only logical explanation for the way she responds to physical touch. There's more to it than what Ward told me about their past."

"You're right," He huffed, troubled. "Alright, let's see what carnation means."

"Each colour represents something different, but yellow..." What you read made you tense up.

"What?"

"Disdain."

You gave each other a look, then you continued to other flowers: "Hyacinth– Yellow hyacinth is... jealousy."

"Do these even grow in Wyoming?" Eugene was as disturbed as you were. You just shrugged, but you were thinking more about how she came to find these in the first place.

"Marigold– Jealousy, despair... Rose, yellow– Jealousy and..." You gasped shortly, eyes widening at the word.

"What, what is it?" Eugene turned the book to himself a little and his eyes widened slightly as well.

Infidelity.

"Maybe... Maybe tansy means something else?" Eugene flipped the pages as you burned a hole through the table, stunned where you sat. "Hostile thoughts, declaring war... Shit."

He stared at you as you slowly raised your head up and gave him a nasty look, whispering angrily: "Who... Who does she think she is?"

"(Y/N), I– I don't," Eugene knew, like yourself, that this could've been just pure coincidence, but all of the flowers representing almost exactly the same things inevitably had him worried and at a loss for words.

"That little bitch–" Your fists flexed into a fist, your brows drawing together, creating deep lines on your forehead.

"Don't freak out," Eugene grabbed your elbow in a calming gesture.

"She wants him–? She wants a war? I'll give her something worse, she'll regret ever setting foot in–"

"What's going on?" In between your heartbeat ringing in your ear and loud, angry words, you didn't hear Joel come in. Your head snapped towards him, eyes wide open and angry, then turned your head away towards Eugene.

"I think it's best if you sit down." The older man said uncomfortably.

He obliged, never looking away from you as he did. He was clearly worried, careful, but also cross; it wasn't hard to tell, and you had hoped he wouldn't see what you were up to, but alas...

"You know who brought me these?" You asked, focused at something outside the window.

"I have an idea." His eyes were burning through the side of your face, the tension crushing everyone in the room.

You chuckled bitterly. "You must think I'm crazy."

"I think no such thing," He growled, offended by your accusation. "You don't sleep well, you don't eat– Your worryin's making me worry!"

"The thing is, Joel," Eugene intervened. "She has a right to worry."

He finally looked at him with an exhausted expression: "What?"

"Each of these flowers have meanings in this book right here," He tapped the book. "And they're not good meanings at all."

"See? This is what worries me," He leaned back, crossing his arms. "You're gonna check everything she does or gives?"

"So you want me to stay oblivious to– to things, while Ward is probably physically absuing his wife?" You snapped, your head turning in Joel's direction to meet his quizzical expression. You got up from your chair, leaning in with your hands on the table: "If she was meaning to send a message to us with these flowers, asking for help, and we ignored it? That'd be on me."

"How could it possibly be on you?" He replied angrily. "How would she know that you'd– decipher this message?"

"I told you that I told her about–"

"Enough!" Eugene growled. "She sent her a message, despite what could be happening in their household." You sighed heavily and turned your head to the side, Joel glancing at Eugene as he continued: "All these flowers have one thing in common, Joel, and it's that they've bad meanings. This one?" He held up the marigold: "Jealousy. This one?" The hyacinth: "Also jealousy. And this?" The rose: "Jealousy... as well as infidelity."

Joel leaned back, an irked look on his face: "Wh– What?"

"Tansy– Hostile thoughts." He coughed into his fist as he put the flower down.

"So don't sit there–" You looked at him again, leaning in with your head: "And tell me that I'm worrying over nothing. Just because you have no clue about what's going on around you, doesn't mean it's not happening." You gulped, the barbed wire around your throat present once more, then picked up the book and closed it: "Thanks, Eugene."

He just nodded with a concerned look on his face and watched you walk upstairs. Joel, stunned in place, didn't say a word as the older man got up, tipped his head at him and left. He sat there for some time, by himself and stared at the beautiful flowers. He hadn't seen you like this since the Axel case– sure, you both had ups and downs but it had never gotten this bad since then. To prevent another fall out, he knew this time he had to be a little more alert for both of your sakes, if your accusations were indeed true.

But you both needed to co-operate if something was going to be done about this.

It was close to a week later when Ward opened up again.

Joel and you were a bit tense, even after when he suggested the next day after the flower incident that you both went to Maria to change your patrol schedules. She had said Joel only had one more patrol left with Kiki, while you still had three to go with Ward, which was okay for you especially after you found out that Joel's last patrol with Kiki was a group sweep which involved you too.

Joel was more than relieved too, thinking maybe change of patrol partners will finally ease the tension between you and him, but it seemed you'd remain upset until that last patrol was over with, which was the day after your current patrol with Ward.

You were taking a different route this time, on horseback and it was in the afternoon, a chill breeze was present which took the burning feel of the slowly setting sun off your shoulders. The trees were offering shield from the sun with their shadows, too.

"I overheard people talking about you and Joel."

"Really?" You rolled your eyes. "What were they saying?"

"Something about... having a child."

You turned your head and gave him a stern look, but it wasn't directed at him, then you sighed, the grip you had on your reigns tightening: "It's none of their business."

"Exactly what I told them."

"What?" You turned to face him again, the whip of your head smoother than before, and your voice was softer– surprised.

"I told them to stop talking about something which wasn't their business," Ward casually explained. "They then told me that I had no business listening to them, so I threatened to break their jaw if they didn't shut up."

"Ward..." You gave him a look of disapproval.

"Kidding," He offered a small smile. "Leave out the threatening bit, but it did cause a little argument. Maria was there though... organising this event that's coming up. She defended you, too."

You hadn't taken him to be the type to stand up for people he didn't exactly know: "Ward I–"

"Sorry though, don't know who they were–"

"Thank you."

He blinked, equally surprised at the smallest smile on your lips: "Oh, well..."

"Not many people would do that, I appreciate it," Your grip loosened and you allowed yourself to relax a little. "People tend to get ahead of themselves sometimes."

"Inconsiderate, that's what they are." He growled, but his face was thoughtful and troubled exactly like when he told you of his background. "It just– Gets on my nerves. This whole... baby talk."

"You and mine both," You huffed. "It's just funny how people who have almost no connections to me and Joel talk about it, when him and I haven't even put it out on the table yet." It was true. Neither of you had even said the word out of its nickname context.

"I just hope they won't force you to have one."

You turned your head to him with slightly wide eyes: "How do you mean?"

He remained quiet for a while, probably debating on whether he should share what he meant or not – if he should listen to his needs and get it off his chest, or add more to the bottle when there was no space left in it. He finally spoke: "Kiki had to lie, so that they wouldn't separate or punish us. I was too... paralysed to speak when she said We want to have children out of nowhere. Said that it was the only reason why we decided to date and get married. We had been together for just five months."

A sick lie to get out of an equally sick situation, which normally would've made you feel sick, but in this fucked up world and having done the equally fucked up shit you did, you couldn't bring yourself to feel nauseous; however, it did make a shiver run down your spine, the situation reminding you of the Seraphites in Seattle when an escapee had arrived in Boston, months after the fall of that QZ. She had told horrifying stories about how her and five other people had barely made it past them: They had witnessed 'religious sacrifice's, and the manslaughter from The WLF hadn't helped their case either... She had committed suicide a month after her arrival in Boston.

"By then we started to regret our decision more, because they were forcing us to– To have a child–"

"Hey, look, you don't have to tell me–"

"We lied–" He continued, feeling though as if he wasn't going to get another chance to open up again. "For a long time, it was maybe we're not lucky enough, or God's not willing. They... They went as far as to consider fucking exorcism, and it was all on Kiki, and her alone."

You thought for a moment he was going to cry, with the way his face scrunched up, but he kept going angrily: "I told them it could be biological, they told me she was cursed... I told them, maybe the problem was me, they insisted it was her... Until they finally needed proof that we were actually– You know–"

"God," You quietly gasped.

"I don't– We tried to break up, to end the madness, but they wouldn't listen. I had never touched Kiki other than kisses and hugs, while we were lying to them about– She was a virgin and so was I–"

He stopped for a brief moment when his horse whinnied, you were getting closer to the tall walls surrounding Jackson, then continued hesitantly: "She– finally got pregnant, after a whole year of deceiving them, but the stress of it got to her, I think. She... she miscarried." He gulped, closing his eyes tightly, an unpleasant look on his face. "You can imagine how it was received around the community– We had to run, you see, so we did."

You had reached the gates by then, it was Joel who was at the watchtower and waved at you as you waited for the doors to open. You waved back with a worried look on your face, which he must've spied through his binoculars. After bringing the horse into the stables and handing back your rifles, you stopped him. It was unusually quiet and empty around the southern gate, which was normally empty anyway: "Listen, I just wanna say–"

Before you knew it, a stuck gasp left him. His back was to you, so at first you thought he saw something, but as soon as you stepped to his side: "Ward," He was crying. "Oh– Hey, it's okay..."

He whimpered until he ran out of breath, covering his face with his hands. You didn't know how to react, internally panicking and carefully studying his body language, while feeling like a dick about it. You slowly and carefully put a hand on his back, and at the touch, he immediately collapsed by your feet. He was weeping now, and too close for comfort. You quickly looked around to see if anyone was there, only to find out not a single soul was in your line of sight, except for the slowly and suddenly approaching figure of your husband.

"Ward, get up," You lightly shook him by the shoulder to get his attention, but this only resulted in him leaning closer to your legs. You raised your head to see Joel had come to a stop a couple of feet away from where you stood: "Get. Up."

"You said– You said–" He struggled with trying not to cry and breathing at the same time.

"I said there is a group session if you needed to talk," You spoke, defeated, feeling Joel's burning gaze on your eyelids. "I'm sorry for what happened. I really am, but you need to get up."

He looked up at you to meet your stern, pitying gaze, then wiped at his tears. He nodded a couple of times and slowly got up, sniffling quietly. Without saying another word –even though he looked like he wanted to– and sparing you another look, he readjusted his backpack and walked away as if nothing happened. You stood there and watched him leave with your hands on your hips, then let out an exhausted sigh. You were just thankful that you weren't murdered for the most part, irked because of his sudden breakdown, but you also felt like shit scolding him as you did.

"You wanna tell me what the hell was that all about?" Joel. And he neither sounded pleased nor amused.

"You think I have an idea?" You gave him a hopeless look. "Man just– Suddenly told me the rest of his story and broke down, I don't–" Joel stood with his arms crossed, within your 6 feet radius, but there was nothing soft about it.

He was expecting an explanation, and an explanation he got: "That, Joel? That's what fucking scares me! I hear the shit they went through and I listen to it, waiting for the time he's going to get to the part where I did something to him or someone he cared for– waiting for the time they're going to shoot me or stab me– or you! And then they get like– like that, or do something nice to us, and suddenly I feel like an asshole because they're not bad people in the end, they just need some fucking help!"

You breathed heavily as your hands remained open at your sides after all the gestures and motions, your chest rising and falling very obviously as small sweat and tear droplets rolled down your face: "And they're seeking help in all the wrong places, from the most unsuitable people. I don't know about you, but I'm not mentally capable of taking their load while I have my own to deal with."

Joel took in a short amount of breath, as if to speak, but immediately closed his mouth. He stared into your eyes for what felt like 30 minutes, searching for something– you weren't quite sure what. He looked angry, upset, worried and heartbroken all in the same time.

Finally, when he couldn't speak, you added: "If anything happened to me, I could live with that." You spoke calmly, nodding curtly: "But if anything happens to you? I'll tear this whole goddamn town apart and make sure they can't find a place to hide from me."

Your fidgeting, unfocused eyes suddenly found Joel's hazel ones; you saw through all the anger, fretting and upset at that moment.

It was such an adoring, lovely gaze– Bit by bit, it drained you of all the hate and other ugly emotions pressing down your shoulders; a great sense of solace overcoming you as his big, warm hand cupped your jaw. He leaned in to steal the softest of kisses from your damaged lips– subconscious biting had seen to that, but Joel's softer ones made up for the loss on your side.

Before he could give you the chance to debate on whether you should hug him or not, he pulled back, his hand on your cheek still: "I won't let anything happen to you– To either of us. I promise you." You stared into each other's eyes for another moment, then he placed a most gentle kiss on your temple: "I made some dinner for you, go and eat for me."

You nodded, eyes lowering to the ground, then slowly walked away. Joel was quick to take notice of your broken stance– slumped shoulders, slowed steps and, ah, there goes the hand through your hair. He knew, then, that he had to put more effort into understanding how you viewed the couple and respecting your feelings. Sure, you were prone to worry and overthink, but so was he. Nothing, as far as he knew and had seen, had gotten to you like this before. Something ought to be wrong for you to beat yourself up over it as you did.

But despite everything –despite him still not seeing the way you saw the couple– you were, of course (and without question), his priority. He trusted you and your judgement, and it had always been so.

He just hoped it wasn't too late to show you that.

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

Mamihlapinatapai Or The Season Of Longing

A/n: Here is another fic. Since it's been raining like crazy and I have spent way too much time indoors because of the weather, I decided to write this. The poem featured in this fic is called Lluvia by Jorge Luis Borges. I finally figured out how to put things under the cut so that my followers don't have to scroll through a large post 😅 It's another piece set before Doofus Rick and the reader were dating. Feel free to check out the other fics in my Masterpost.

In this fic the reader isn't the only one longing

___________

Imagine that instead of a blue sky, there was an off white, almost grey sky, and what should've been wispy white clouds were blankets of rumbling thunderstorms without a drop of rain; that was how you thought you might've felt. There was a name to this feeling, but you weren't sure what to call it; as though you were missing something you couldn't place; not sadness or grief, but whatever came in between. No, nothing bad had happened, and there hadn't been any disagreements between you and Rick, but something did occur which fed this alien feeling. It seemed that only a few days ago you were alright, but then you invited him over and he had a chance to look over those books you had mentioned. That day he had returned home from work and came over right after; offering his best of smiles and a piece of candy from his labcoat pocket as soon as he crossed the threshold of your doorway; it was nothing out of the ordinary, but it was charming all the same.

With swiftness, you had led him to your hallway closet so that you could bring down the box of books sitting on the upper shelf; that was where you kept a great portion of your father's old books. Father had been a fan of languages and botany, but ventured into the bizarre mystery from time to time; being a master of neither, you had hidden them away for a later date; mostly because the memories were more disheartening then they space they took up. With all your might, you stood on the tips of your toes in a vain attempt to reach, but your fingers barely brushed the edge of it; you should’ve just used the step ladder. It was Rick's small huff of effort which alerted you to his nearness as he unexpectedly stretched up and grabbed said box when you had a little trouble. Goodnaturedly, he carried it towards the kitchen while you took a moment to calm your girlish heart.

Coaxed away from your thoughts by the dusty cardboard and the delighted guest, you nodded lightly to give him the go-ahead to help himself. His gentle presence made him a joy to study; not in the way he examined things in the world or of the world, but in the way one does when fascinated by a butterfly or a fresh bloom hidden in an otherwise barren bush; he was a miracle. With care he pulled out one book after another, glancing through their pages and making piles for which one's he'd like to borrow. In a way he seemed to belong to this house; as though what wasn't found within pages of novels could be sought, and felt beyond reason; flowing calmly and relished in these favorable moments. Although it wasn't much, and that borrowing books could be of little consequence except to the reader itself, you hated to see him go.

Now thinking of it days later, you found yourself wondering about its significance as well as a plethora of other things as you walked to the store and back. You hadn't needed anything in particular, but you felt slightly better being outdoors; the fresh air allowed you to believe you could think better. The sounds of light traffic and grass being cut somewhere along in the neighborhood felt timeless as you walked around the corner, almost home. The wind blew, rustling your clothes and you narrowly lost the receipt that hung out of your pocket, but that didn’t bother you.

Rain clouds were rolling in from the west and you hoped it wouldn't rain before you reached home. And the closer you got, the more you could see the familiar house of your lovable neighbor. A smile couldn't help but stretch across your face at the thought and you hoped he was home so that you could ask if he'd had a chance to look those books over but that alien feeling bloomed again; the sinking, drowning, heavy feeling. How you wanted to be with him despite what reason thought was logical. The dance of your heart would've loved nothing more than to place a dozen or more kisses upon his smile lines while he stammered into the next week. Oh, your foolish heart had taken on a personification of its own these days; speaking and thinking of itself and it's wants like a second brain; draining you whenever it appeared.

Yet, before you knew it you had reached home and dropped off what you had bought before stepping out again. From your front yard, you could see that he was in the garage and you questioned whether you should go over and attempt to alleviate this feeling; it’d vanish whenever you were with him. You must’ve stood there thinking for a while as to what ought to be done for the pitter-patter of rain broke this trance-like state and you ran back towards your front porch. How silly you have become as of late with this strange crush of yours. Weren’t you past these sort of schoolgirl feelings? Perhaps, but it was more than that.

You sunk into your wicker bench and listened to the sound of the rain as it hit the roof and walkway. The earthy scent of the lawn and the splash of puddles as cars drove by was a welcomed distraction. A nap didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Yet, gentle footsteps and the sound of a closed umbrella woke another sort of feeling within you; that of hope.

“Golly, it - it sure is raining cats and dogs t-today.” he commented.

The words were out of your mouth as soon as you were aware of him; of this creature who walked out of a daydream. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you.”

“Huh? Are you alright? Did s-something happen?”

“I'm fine,” you answered; all at once conscious of him and your surroundings. “it’s just...I thought about coming over to ask if you checked out any of the books but it started to rain.”

“Th-that's part of the reason I'm here,” he confessed. “I-I had noticed you went out for a-a walk and wanted to make sure you had come home safely.”

“As you can see, I made it back in one piece. Although, I did get my hair wet. Though, that's the least of my problems.”

“Do you mind if I-I-I take a seat?”

Patting the space beside you, you nodded. “Not at all.”

He set his umbrella to the side before he seated himself and turned towards you. His warmth radiated from him and being as tall as he was, the bench might’ve been too low to the ground since his legs seemed to stick out too much, but he made no complaint. From his inner labcoat pocket, he pulled out a small book. “I thought y-y-you might enjoy this.”

“A book?”

Handing it to you, he commented. “I thought y-you might enjoy this collection of poems. I um - I bookmarked my favorites but I'd like t-t-to know what your thoughts about them would be.”

You knew this whimsical creature was well-read in many respects, but you hadn’t given much thought to the possibility of including works of a more abstract nature. “Sure, that sounds lovely. Though, I hope you don't mind me asking. Do you read works like this often? It's not because I find it strange. Honestly, I find it fascinating and wonderful that you would even consider it, but I ask because I thought….well, I thought you only read serious works related to your work.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he explained. “I read whenever I-I-I find the time and it uh - it usually doesn’t matter what the subject may be. In the pursuit of knowledge, one reads everything. For example, th-the terms and conditions for some computer programs or limited warranties at times list amusing reasons why y-you might be able to get a replacement for a damaged product. It keeps things interesting.”

“I see. It certainly makes sense.”

With a smile, he sighed with contentment as he looked towards the street. “Boy, th-this weather reminds me of a certain poem. It's called um - it's called Lluvia. That's the Spanish word for rain.”

“That's right,” you remembered; his last name should’ve been a reminder enough. “you can speak Spanish. I forget sometimes since you only talk to me in English. So, tell me, how does this poem go?”

“Please forgive me since my Spanish is a-a little rusty.”

Taking a deep breath, he recited calmly. “Bruscamente l-la tarde se ha aclarado, porque y-ya cae la lluvia minuciosa. Cae o cayó. La lluvia es una c-cosa qué sin duda sucede en el pasado. Quien la oye caer ha recobrado, el t-tiempo en que la suerte venturosa. Le r-r-reveló una flor llamada rosa y el curioso color del c-colorado. Esta lluvia que ciega los cristales, alegrará en p-p-perdidos arrabales. Las negras uvas de una parra en cierto. Patio que ya no existe. La mojada, t-tarde me trae la voz, la voz deseada, de mi padre que vuelve y que no ha muerto.”

You stared at this man, amazed by his fluency and ability to fascinate you with the simplest things. Yet again, a reason to be marveled by him. “Whoa, I don't know what you said, but it sounded beautiful when you said it.”

Turning towards you, his smile seemed brighter than usual albeit a bit sheepish. "It's n-nothing special."

"But it is, especially since you can think and speak in more than one language. I can't do that."

"I-I can teach you if you'd like."

"No, that's okay. You're busy enough as it is, but I appreciate the thought. You really are so incredibly smart."

"And you…eres maravillosa."

"What?”

His smile faltered a bit, and he thought to himself for a bit on what he was about to say before his smile returned; albeit more gently. “Eres amable y-y dulce. No soy digno de una amiga como tu.”

“Rick,” you started; confused as to why there seemed to be some sort of admission that you weren’t able to understand. “all the poetic talk is lovely, but I don't think it's fair if you reply in a way I can't understand."

"Si pudieras entenderme," he sighed, wringing his hands in the nervous way he did. "me pregunto qué creerías si te expresara cuánto me preocupo por ti."

Raising from the bench, he said to himself. "Si puedo llegar a la luna, algun dia podria...¿Q-que estoy haciendo?"

"Rick?"

“I’m o-okay. I uh - I zoned out there for a second. I’m sorry.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

He studied you for a moment longer; a world of words unsaid in his melancholic glances. Was something secretly hurting him like it was hurting you? You could only wonder as thoughts were drowned out by the sound of the rain.

———————————-

It was warm and comfortable with him sitting beside you. His presence always provided a sense of calm that was softer and sweeter than that of the sedatives that eased your anxiety. Why you could fall asleep right here if it weren’t for that fact that you’d be mortified if you allowed it to happen.

“Are you a-a big fan of the rain?” he wondered.

This question had come after a half-hour of companionable silence. “Hmm, it’s not the rain so much as the memories that accompany it.”

“Do y-you want to talk about it?”

“Only if you don’t mind hearing it.”

“I-I don’t mind.” He reassured you.

“Well,” you started. “my dad enjoyed rainy days since he said the plants almost seemed to smile when rainwater hit their leaves.”

“Th-that’s a nice thought.“

“Yeah, I thought so too. When it rains like this, and I’m watching it fall,” you softened; feeling lighter because you had someone to share your thoughts with. “it feels like I’m looking through a curtain. It’s not completely see-through, but the shapes I can see appear softer and more mysterious like how you must’ve appeared when you showed up. Too bad I wasn’t paying attention.”

Oh, you did not just say that out loud. “Or something like that.” You added.

If he had noticed you had tripped over your words then he gave no indication of it. “Gosh, I-I never thought of it that way b-before. I usually see it as part of the pr-precipitation cycle and it smells nice, doesn't it?”

“It does. I wouldn’t mind bottling up this scent, but then it might lose what makes it special.”

Yet, if you could bottle up his scent, it would’ve been nice to keep nearby just in case you wanted a little piece of him.

“That um - that reminds me,” he brightened. “I had baked some mandarin scones before walking over tonight, and I-I-I thought you’d like t-t-t-t-to try them but I didn’t want to risk them getting wet. I-I thought we could share some over tea tomorrow if that’s alright with you.”

Tea time with Rick was like what others did over rounds of drinks; it was to unwind and talk about the day; minus the drunkenness and the unforeseen embarrassment. “Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”

“Gee, I um - I was supposed to, but there was a shift change. Actually, I have a shift t-t-tonight in a-about an hour, but I had wanted to make sure you were alright before I left.”

“Why?”

“Because I-I thought you were going t-to walk over.”

So he had thought the same thing. “Oh, well like I said earlier I had planned to or thought to, but the weather put a damper on things.”

“Yeah.”

“Though, isn’t it funny that we both had the same thought?”

He smiled at that. “It's because gr-great minds think alike.”

What right did he have to be this adorable you thought. All you could do was smile up at him and fight the urge to run your fingers through what appeared to be soft hair; as odd as you had initially thought his haircut was when you met him, you couldn’t imagine him any other way. Still, drawn to his bright, kind eyes, you wondered if you were being attracted by some invisible force to test the limits of this friendship, and yet you knew well enough that now wasn’t the time. Following a slow blink of his, you mentioned without looking away. “Now that we have gotten to see each other, it's probably time to let you go. I wouldn’t want you to be late for work.”

“Y-you’re right.” he straightened; jumping up on his feet with much more agility then seemed possible for someone so mature. “Until next time.”

There he was leaving again when you didn’t want him to. Still, you had no right or claim to him. At least, not yet. “See you tomorrow.”

Grabbing his umbrella, he motioned to open it but paused, and slowly, but surely turned back; his smile almost boyish. “Gosh, I-I will see you tomorrow, right?”

Clutching the book of poems to your breast, you giggled. “Whichever way it may be, we will. I promise.”

Fin

[randominternetbosonignog785]

Mikans last Christmas.

So this story was something I was going to release on christmas but then i gave up on it, but then I diddnt, so here you go. Disclaimer its kinda gory n stuff has some naughty language and its a tad bit suggestive but its pretty pg bois.

Twas the night before christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Though there were no stockings by the walls, nor trees or presents to brighten up the halls, but instead were cupboards and draws blocking out the doors and half flipped scattered tables to shield a man that was barely keeping himself stable.

Every piece of furniture was stripped from their place, only to be used as blockades to keep out any new face. In normal circumstances many people would think  the house was a tip but when it came to the biggest, most awful, most tragic event in human history, everyone had to get a grip.

Behind one of the half flipped tables near a cracked television, a large man wrinkled with age sat roughly on the floor with his rear resting against the desk's backside. The man had a slight beer belly, his scalp was just beginning to lose its hair and overall he just about had enough of life; what you'd expect from a fifty year old man who was down on his luck in the world, although ever since a certain wanker decided to ram a glass dagger into his right arm - ever since the world went tits up out of nowhere, his lucks been shit.

"Haaaarrgh...grrrrrr!"

The man gurgled and growled out his pain as he attempted to thrust a towel he found in one of his daughters med kits onto the red bleeding pool that flushed out of his arm. '

Apply with firm pressure? Even the fuckin manual's trying to kill me.' The squirming man thought to himself. Soon enough, he simply gave up and just decided to lie on the floor of his living room to try and get at least a wink of sleep, trying his best to ignore the niggling and nagging of the nerves in his wounded arm. It was hard finding the peace of sleep though, as the outside world he once knew had now become a hostile alien planet he might die in at any given moment and it didn't help that the air felt thicker than usual.

A few weeks.

It had only been a few weeks since he had his last pint, but now everybody started stabbing each other. It had only been a few weeks since he last relaxed watching his favorite shows on his favorite armchair, but now he was shivering on the floor, lacking the courage to go and sleep in his own bedroom. It had only been a few weeks since his worthless daughter had enrolled in some school for smart sods...

But now she was probably dead.

"Daddy?"

Almost feeling like a second after his conscience finally slipped into slumber, the rugged man abruptly snapped awake once more upon hearing a voice call out from the darkness, presumingly for him.

"Daddy? Are you still here?"

The female voice sounded so slender and savoury yet innocent and playful and it chilled the man to his bone. The man couldn't figure out how someone broke through his homemade barricade, but he couldn't feel surprised either, but it didn't matter now. He was now sharing his house with the one of many psychopaths that infested the outside world.

"Daaaddy~ where are you?"

'The sick fuck must be getting some sort of kink out of this' the man swore in his mind. Suddenly without warning, a heavy shower started to spew and spatter outside and somehow, the individual splats and taps managed to pierce through the man's ear drums, yet at this point the girl's calm yet threatening voice was able to drown out the rain itself.

That bitch was getting closer.

The man now knew he had no time left. He knew that it was do or die, he knew it was time to be a man. The voice sounded like it belonged to some kid, so why was he pissing his pants in his little time out corner? Finally, he remembered that he had one of his kitchen knives sitting around his used med kit and picked it up. He wasn't gonna let some little shit be the end of him.

"There you are daddy."

Before he could even start to gather his courage, that cold, icey siren of a voice was already singing next to him and a chilling warmth somehow caressed his ear. The man's heart skipped a beat. She was this close already.

He should have just skedaddled, the man should just have vamoosed but instead his bottom was eternally bound to the floor and all he did was instinctively turn around in complete despair. The man expected the intruder to stab his stomach or simply inject another piece of glass into his other arm, but instead, The very same second his heart refused to beat, his mouth was suddenly covered by some sort of thick tissue and then caused a sudden drowsiness to spread inside him. He felt weak. Before his very being fell into darkness he only caught a brief glimpse of his assassin's eyes, but it was enough information he had to know to effectively deduce who it was that had sealed his fate.

Out of anyone in the world that could have taken away his pointless life, it of course had to be his very own daughter. It was the same child he had neglected for so many years and if it was her out of all the other crazy fuckers ending his life; the man didn't seem to mind.

The man's muscles soon refused to twitch let alone break his fall as he plummeted, back first onto the floor. Despite the fact that his entire body was instantly shutting down though, somehow he managed to keep the dumbbells weighing upon his lids alift for a few seconds longer, just to try and see for certain if whoever stood above him really was who he thought and sure enough the thin girl that invaded his thoughts toward before the man.

Her straw-like hair was tangled and drowned in scalp snot and her usual nurse-like outfit was filthy and terribly torn. Her small speckless face though, in a way relieved the man with its familierality but at the same time horrified him with its grave difference in expression. The constant worry from her puppy-like eyes was gone, now replaced with an expression that the man couldn't possibly describe as happiness, but she was smiling; harder and more larger than she ever smiled before. 'Come to think of it', the man last thought, he had never seen his own daughter smile. He regretted that he had to think such a thought and he regretted how it came to this. He regretted everything and in his last moments of consciousness all the man could do was regret.

Why didn't he ever notice that he had such a beautiful daughter?

The saw sinks right into the leg bone~

The right arm tears off the elbow~

Apply firm pressure, don't leave the wounds open~

Don't forget to sterilise with cream~

"I did it daddy. Merry christmas."

After what seemed like an eternity, feeling as if at random, the man's eyelids finally decided to open, while at the same time his stomach felt as if it was still debating whether or not it wanted to burst open. He was on a bed and it felt impossible to get up. The man's sight invited him back to a blurry mess of a world, mangled with muddy pixels of blacks and greys that were meshed with a glowing orange that most likely represented light, and on top it all off, he was just about having the shittiest headache he ever had in his life. He wasn't dead at the very least, but dear god he might as well have been.

"Daddy, you're finally awake!"

Listening to that voice yet again...he now unmistakingly knew that it was his daughter who was talking.

"Mikan, what happened? What are you doing here?" The man's gritty growl of a voice, strained from obvious- stress finally uttered the name of his child. The pixelated colours that represented his proposed daughter were still mixed in with the blacks and greys of the room but slowly yet surely, he could already tell his sight was reorganising the world back together again.

"The outside world daddy." She purred. "It's scary out there. People who I thought were my friends started stabbing each other and some even started slicing off their hands and fingers and if it wasnt that they'd end up killing themselves. I was so scared."

She wasn't being serious. Given The context of her small speech, the man should have been able to feel some small amount of sorrow, but he felt none. All he could catch was the disguised yet painfully clear sarcasm in the girl's voice, which drained all the weight from her words.

"I came back home because I knew it would be safe."

That wasn't true, was it? She was back to kill him, just like the rest of me. It was the only thing that made sense; to get revenge on how he treated her. After thinking about it for a second though, the man probably deserved it.

"I saw you fainted on the floor when I found you daddy. So I took you to my room and took very special care of you."

Another obvious lie added to the man's paranoia and was beginning to feel iller by the second. What in God's name did mikan-

!

He couldn't move his right hand. No. He couldn't feel his right hand. In disbelief as well as desperation, the man worriedly wiggled every last limb that was still attached to his body, and where his lower left leg should have jolted...

Shit! He was drugged right? He must've been dreaming right? It was a dream. It had to be a dream! The meshy fog in the man's eyes finally felt like clearing and with all his inner strength he turned his head round to face his right arm; but all that was left was the arm and all that came out of its tip it was a small lump of thickly layered bandages, dyed in dry blood.

It was a fucked up dream. The man continued thinking. He couldn't feel the pain right? So it was just a fucked up dream, birthed from his newfound daily stresses. The pain from his old arm injury must have been giving him a horrific nightmare.

"It was hard patching you up when you were bleeding so heavily daddy." The bitch went on. "I had to give you a ton of painkillers and stuff to keep you from feeling the pain. I'm sorry. You must feel terrible right now. It's a good thing I saved you."

She was fucking insane. Painkillers? No- the only reason he couldn't feel the pain was because he was dreaming; This was just my mind's way of punishing him. There's no way he should still be alive like this.

"Good thing the ultimate nurse was here to save you daddy and don't worry I'll take care of you. I won't let you die like everyone else daddy. You're safe with me daddy."

"All you need now is me."

Fuck. Shit. fucking shit. This cant be fucking happning! How the hell did it come to this? The man couldn't curse enough. This was too fucked up to be a dream, but at the same time it was too fucked up to be real, but it just had to be fucking dreaming. Being drugged by his own daughter had to be a fucking dream. All of the last few weeks had to be a fucking dream. He had to believe it was. He had to for the sake of what small sanity he had left, and as if by reading his thoughts the monster smiled. Mavoilevent, vengeful and pure evil were the only words that spawned when the man's now mushy mind attempted to decipher such a grin. This was how he died: by the hands of his own fucking kid. Now accepting that, the man then realised that keeping himself aware of the living world was only going to make him fearful of the inevitable and so he let his heavy eyelids fall just so he could at least have the luxury of dying without knowing what hit him, but something out of place then uttered from Mikans small lips.

"So what do you want to do first?"

A question instead of a threat. Was it curiosity instead of bloodlust? Despite still hearing that wrongfully playful tone in his daughters still silk like voice, for whatever reason, the girl's strange question gave the man enough hair on his balls to open up his eyes to his assassin yet again. This time he was eye to eye with mikans face; her straw like hair gravitated towards him and her skin: crystal clear, causing what was left of her innocence to glow, while also horribly smudged with scars and bruises of the past, reminding the man of why he was here now. She was almost on top of him and only her slender arms held her above the man, acting as cemented pillars beside his neck. The man's response was delayed by the surprise of Mikan's random actions and all he could offer in exchange was a limp wimper of confusion.

Was she going to kill him or not?

Mikan then suddenly retreated from her pose and sat down at the end of the bed, avoiding squishing his leg. Well, the one that still had an end to it.

"Comon’ daddy, now we can play anything you want. Maybe you can try drawing on me, everyone always loved doing that back at school so you should give it a try!"

"What?" The man finally spat out.

"I'm sorry!" She blurted apologetically, while also completely out of place. "Maybe that's too weird for you. Do you want me to squeal like a pig again? You always loved doing that daddy. Roleplay was always your favorite."

Why? Why was she asking this? Did she develop a thing for fucking massicasisom while she was gone? He couldn't question everything enough, the man's mind just began to melt from stress and confusion. Despite the lingering silence the man couldn't help but create though, without any sign of permission Mikan settled onto the floor boards on all fours and simply started to squeal like a pig.

This was it. This was hell. This was God's heavenly punishment.

"@#$@%*!"

It was his fault she ended up like this. The man knew this now. Why did fate have to ram the fact down his throat?

"#$@%*^=!"

He fucking got it. He made his kid into a fucking physcopath. Big hoo-fuckin-ray! Just kill him for it already!

"Oink. €£#$@%*^=! oink oink."

But the universe thought death wasn't enough. Oh no, the sweet release of death was never enough to right this mans wrongs, experiencing the end of the world was never enough, being disected like a fucking frog was never enough. No.

"#$@%€¥₩! Oink."

He had to endure the desperate screams for attention. Take in the blood curdling cries for mere notice. He had to tolerate the broken girl's ungranted wishes for a better father.

"₩¥€*$%@! $$%£@!"

And he did...until he couldn't.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

She stopped squealing, but the animalistic screams still remained in the man's ears.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

"...Daddy?" She mumbled, somehow sounding shocked at his response.

"Shut...up. please." The man begged. He couldn't take it any more.

"I'm sorry Daddy." The girl apologizes again. With her voice finally sounding more mellow than sadistic. "I forgot you liked to see me do that with all of my clothes off...give me a second."

At this point The man was truly bewildered how he raised such a sad creature.

"Mikan." The man once again called out the name of his child as his eyes began to leak. "Please, enough of this."

Mikan then climbed back onto the end of the bed and locked with my eyes; hers instantly succumbed with certain grief as if she feared those words from the start.

"Daddy I thought you liked playing with me."

I stared back into her eyes with an assertive glance. One way or another, she had to learn that tearing off people’s limbs was some fucked up shit and no way to get what she wanted. It was the only way of redeeming himself, yet not even several seconds passed before she couldn't bare the silent treatment.

"Don’t ignore me Daddy. Dont do that again, please dont ignore me! please forgive me. I know I cut off your arm and your leg but I only did that so you wouldnt leave me alone again, I only did that so we could play forever. I only did that for us Daddy, because I love you! And Daddy loves me."

....

"...right?"

The man did not deserve to admit he loved her back because now he realized that He never deserved love. Not from his daughter, not from his late wife, hell, not even from his own old folks. The man now realised that he was human shit and all he ever offered was a shitty stench to smell for everyone around him and now he had intoxicated Mikan with his vulgar stink. The least he could do now was to relive some of the fumes and stop his daughter from absorbing any more of his odour. All he had to do was ignore her and be lucky for the man: that was what he did best.

!

As if satan himself sent everything he had to crush every shred of the man's newfound resolve, an intense surge of pain he had never felt before, striked at the ends of the dismembered body parts the man had almost forgotten about. He already saw his arm freshly bitten off and his leg cut clean but his mind was only now reacting to his sights and now every ounce of thought he once carried was instantly drowned out by a powerful, primordial pain.

"Ahhh...ahhhhhggghha. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggghhhhhhh!" This time it was the man's turn to squeal like a pig. The entire world's suffering encapsulated in one single moment - all the man could do was vent all the pain out for all to hear.

"Daddy, Don't scream! Please...please stop screaming like that!"

Panic flourished in the depths of the girl's mind. The painkiller's effect wore off more quickly than she had originally calculated and it was only a matter of time before her dad died of the pain caused by his dismemberment. She knew she had to drug him back to sleep immediately and wait for his wounds to heal, but somehow, the few words that slithered out of the dying man's lips, kept her sat, frozen on the bed.

"Mikan...help me please."

Those few words changed everything.

Her legs were glued. Her heart beated faster and faster but her head paused and her sense of urgency plainly disappeared. The girl's body simply couldn't be bothered to move anymore. What was this feeling?

"Mi-kan....Mi-"

Daddy was dead.

The girl felt no grief. No regret, no remorse, not a trace of despair birthed from her mistake.

She just sat there.

The nonexistent glue still sews her short legs to the mattress of the bed. Her beating heart was still rapid, but her mind acted first.

That feeling was so close to euphoric. She might have been unusual but she always imagined the death of her only family would make her sad but she felt far from that. Then she knew why.

"Daddy...-I was the last person daddy was thinking about. I was the last person on Daddys mind."

All she wanted was attention, all she wanted was agnolegenent, all she wanted was to be loved. Her patients were always weak and broken but thanks to that they depended on her, they were grateful for her and they gave her all the attention she could ever ask for. Drugging daddy and immobilizing him was just a way to make him like one of her patients and if dismembering daddy was going to make him love her forever then that was what she should do. Instead though she ended up murdering him and now she was all alone again But still, that emotion remained. The fact that she was daddy's last thought accelerated her and the feeling of knowing that made her feel so relieved and somehow Mikan couldn't barely bring herself to regret what happened. Daddy was nothing but a corpse now, she knew that she had failed at being the so called 'ultimate nurse,' she knew she'd never see, touch or talk with her father ever again and yet the final begs and pleads for his life felt like more attention than he had ever decided to give to her.

"Daddy is dead." She sobbed. Lines of tears streamed down her skin.

"But I was his last thought. Daddy yearned for me. Daddy wanted me to save him." She giggled. She didn't know why but she went on giggling until the giggles evolved into laughter and eventually the seeds of her laughter bloomed into a savage song of sorry cackles. The conflicted emotions of depression and pleasure clashed in war inside Mikan's mind and the effects of their battle gushed out of Mikan in the form of chuckles and sobs. She didn't know what she should have felt anymore. Mikan had now truly lost her mind.

!

Warmth. Embrace. Love. It was all in a single moment. Her beloved.

"Jun-ko?"

"Shush now Mikan. It's okay."

Her beloved was here and for the first time in ages, Mikan felt cleansed. Her wobbling knelt legs gave way and tumbled down sideways like skyscrapers that crashed down onto the dovay, as the warmth from Junko's breasts aroused her. A Slender yet tender arm caressed the girl's hip and softly squeezed her core; while another gently stroked off the pieces of dandruff burrowed within her straw like hair, giving Mikan an inviting fuzzy feeling inside. It was pure love. If only the world could let her stay like this forever.

"Junko..." Mikan began to vent. "Your plan didn't work. D-daddy just decided to ignore me in the end." She went on. "A-and when he died he said my name, he begged me to save him and then I-I had this strange feeling."

Junko's voice then hummed in Mikan's ear. Her boiling breath was gentle and warm and just like the sun in a snowstorm, it melted every little bit of Mikans of well earnt fatigue.

"What kind of feeling was it?"

"It was a pleasure. I-I felt good. I even felt happy, even though he's dead now..."

Before a seed of panic could begin to spread in Mikan's soul, the slight sound of Junko's voice once again quelled any flames of anxiety lit within her and the words that were delivered with that voice, finally Settled the mental storm brewing within Mikan.

"You're just like me Mikan."

That was it. She was just like her beloved. It made so much sense now and with that everything was right again. Suddenly the frail girl broke free of the others hug just to turn around and dive into the cushiony breasts of her beloved and just like that she let it all out.

"Merry Christmas my little Mikan." Junko made one last whisper.

"Now get on the floor. I wanna hear you squeal like a pig again. Dont forget to strip down nude this time you little shit."

"Of course." Mikan faintly mutterd and soon did. She diddnt like it, but if it was what her beloved wanted hee to do. If it made hee beloved happy, then she was more than willing to do anything for her.

***

Hajime.

A skinny girl, dressed in a smart yet tattered nursing uniform stood anxiously outside a holiday cabin. This girl was no ordinary girl though as in the last few hours she had mercilessly murdered two of her own classmates. The girl felt no grief, no regret, nor remorse as she felt nothing but joy when being the last reflection of someone's eye before it was darkened forever. Ibuki and Hyoko were really nice friends and they just had to be her next victims to help relieve herself, as well as in helping along Junoko's killing game but for some reason, instead of covering up her tracks, her instincts brought her here. To her neighbor's beach cabin who was coincidentally investigating her crime.

It was a dumb move in the persective of a killer to randomly show themselves up to the detective but to Mikan; it was something she had to do. As expected, the door was open and just by opening the door the girl could see the boy she was looking for completely conked out on his bed. Being the ultimate nurse she could instantly tell that hajime was sleeping on the investigation due to obvious stress but despite that she couldn't help herself and without a second thought the girl dug under the boys covers and gently squeezed the slumbering life saviour to her core. Just like last time in the hospital, her hunch was correct. Hajime was just as warm, soft and comforting as her beloved.

She held the boy tight and as the emotions that came with the memories of her last Christmas came back to haunt her, she held tighter and tighter. The raging battle inside her soul was back. The truce of those emotions was not going to last forever. The fight between love and pleasure. What was more important to her? Seeing her friends free themselves from her beloved's killing game and live out the rest of their lives together? Or was it making sure that she was the last face, the last person, the last thought everyone would have minds before they finally die and witnessing all their anguish and hatred for herself? The attention she always craved was so close in her reach but the accursed emotion of guilt she thought she had repealed long ago was getting in the way again.

She then came to an ultimatum And whispered in hajimes ear

"Hajime. I did it."

...

...

He was still asleep.

With her internal struggle more or less settled, the girl squeezed the boy one last time and slept peacefully beside her second yet brief love.

Art credit:

Picture made by 'lil Mikan.' https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/1118770/manga

[saiilorstars]

Next Stop, Everywhere

Chapter 13:  The Shakespeare Code

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Female OC x 10th Doctor

(Minerva’s face claim: Victoria Camacho)

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Chapter summary: The Doctor and Minerva and take Martha to meet the one and only Shakespeare...and a couple of witches too.

// Story Masterlist //

"But how do you travel in time? What makes it go!?" Martha was questioning as the TARDIS shook in its violent ways as was the usual.

The Doctor, trying to 'pilot', actually jumped on the console. "Oh, let's take the fun and mystery out of everything. Martha, you don't wanna know. It just does now hold on tight!"

"Hey, she's asking some very good questions that - AH!" The TARDIS had shaken far too violently that it threw all of us down.

Once the TARDIS came to a stop, the only sound in the room was our collective jagged breathing.

"Blimey!" Martha sat upright with a laugh. She looked terrified yet fascinated - the perfect combination for someone aboard the TARDIS. "Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?"

"Yes, and I failed it," the Doctor casually answered as he got up. He strode for the doors, licking up his trench coat on the way.

"Shocker!" I called to him while I helped Martha stand up. "How hard is it to drive a box?"

"Oi, it's a lot harder than you think," he threw me a sharp look as he fixed his coat.

"Aha...''

"Now make the most of it, Martha. You get one trip and one trip only," he explained once Martha and I joined him at the doors.

"I don't think she needs a reminder," I said serious, really not liking the way he said that. I knew he didn't want a replacement for Rose but did he really have to remind Martha about this one-trip deal? Martha wasn't at fault for the unfortunate ending of Rose.

"Where are we?" Martha asked as soon as we stepped out.

We were in an Elizabethan street in the dark night. People were off and about in their errands in the old street, not even realizing we'd literally came out of a box.

"Oh you're kidding me!" Martha gasped, "You're so kidding me!"

"We're really not," I chuckled at her. Her eyes looked ready to pop from her eyes. I wondered of this is what I (and Rose) looked like to the Doctor when we took our first trip.

"We actually time traveled! Where are we? No, sorry-" Martha shook her head, unaware that she was rambling too fast to properly understand her questions. "I gotta get used to this whole new language! When are we?"

"Hey, she sounds just like you now," I nudged the Doctor.

"Ha, ha," he rolled his eyes. He suddenly pulled Martha back as man above dumped out something from a bucket.

"Mind the loo!" the man yelled.

I stared in disgust, "Apparently we're somewhere before the invention of a toilet."

"I've seen worse. I've worked the late night shift at AE," Martha shrugged, not at all perturbed.

We smiled and continued to walk. However, she lingered behind a bit.

"But are we safe?" she made us turn around, "Can we move around and stuff?"

"Of course we can. Why do you ask?" the Doctor seemed somewhat confused as he looked back to the woman.

"It's like in the films. You step on a butterfly; you change the future of the human race," Martha looked around, genuinely worried.

I chuckled, "Then don't step on butterflies!"

"What have butterflies ever done to you?" the Doctor said and continued walking.

"What if, I don't know, what if I kill my grandfather?"

"You planning to?"

"No!"

"Well, then," the Doctor smiled, amused.

"This is London," Martha finally walked.

"This seems about late 1500s, right?" I asked, glancing about.

"1599 to be exact," the Doctor corrected.

"Not that far off," I said proudly, "I'm getting better at it."

"Oh, but hold on," Martha began once more, "Am I alright? I'm not gonna get carted off as a slave, am I?"

I turned around, frowning at such an idea, "Martha!"

"What?" she chuckled lightly, "Who do you think they're gonna take? The brunette with jade eyes and pop perfect peach-colored skin..." she signed, holding up her hand, "Or me?"

"They'd have to take us both of us," I moved beside her, "Because I wouldn't let anyone take my friend. And in any case, he's not even human," I gestured to the Doctor.

"Elizabethan England is not so different from your time," he explained, "Look, they even got recycling."

"So you two just...time travel?" she asked, glancing between us.

"Yup," the Martian and I answered.

"...together?"

"Okay, see, that right there," I pointed as I left her and moved up to the Doctor. We both shared an agreeing nod then turned to Martha. "Why does everyone ask that in that tone?"

"Mhm," the Doctor hummed in agreement.

"I don't get it."

"Do you think it has something to do with us?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, "How we interact? Or...I don't know," I scratched my head.

Martha raised a hand, as if to be picked on for the correct answer, "I don't know, it's just a bit...odd, that's all."

The Doctor and I shared a glance, before I spoke to Martha, "What is? The time travel, or the man and woman's friendship? If I were you, I'd go with the time travel."

"Humans," the Doctor shook his head, earning a whack from me.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Martha gestured with her hands, "I should be focusing on the whole time travel business. But cut me some slack," she walked up to us, "A couple of hours ago I thought you," she pointed to me, "were a school volunteer and you," she pointed to the Doctor, "were just a patient."

"Well I was, but then he," I gestured to the alien, "stuck his nose into my school work and found the hospital which apparently had plasma coils."

"Excuse me, I did not stick my nose into your work," the Doctor said defensively.

"Yeah, then what we're you doing reading my English journal?"

"...I got curious," he mumbled.

"And then I'm the one that causes trouble!"

"Leonardo Da Vinci," he spat, having the audacity to even be irritated.

" Oh, we're on that page, are we Martian?"

"What happened with Leonardo Da Vinci!? What? What?" Martha, excitedly, asked.

"Martha, there's one thing you have to know if you're going to travel with the Doctor. It's okay for all the women to fall for him but god forbid that one man falls for you."

"That's not true!" the Doctor was quick to yell.

"The painter had a crush on me," I explained, ignoring the Martian for the moment, "He wanted to paint me but the idiot over here ruined it and now the painter hates us...well, him more than me. There was a lot of running around that city."

"He was twice your age!"

"Says the man that's 903 years old!"

"You're 903 years old?" Martha blinked, staring at him in awe.

He looked between us, lost for words for either cause until, "Yes, but...Minerva!"

"Those women were what, 25? Maybe 30?" I raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk on my face as I knew I had won.

"So I get protective of my friends, is that a crime?"

"Well he's got you there," Martha nodded.

"Yes, okay," I agreed, "But, there is a difference between protective and overprotective. And you," I pointed to the Doctor, "have surpassed that difference."

He opened his mouth to retaliate when Martha's hand covered his, which I took as an advantage and opened my mouth to continue...when her other hand covered mine, "Are we just going to argue all night?" she asked, looking between us, "Because I'd really like to see something in this trip."

The Doctor pushed her hand down and nodded, "Yeah, of course we are," he turned and walked ahead.

"Sorry," I linked arms with her and followed the Doctor, "We tend to do that a lot, lately."

"No worries, you should see my brother and sister when they get started," she shook her head.

"If I'm right, we're just down the river by Southwark right next to..." the Doctor pulled us towards the corner of the street and turned us to find a...building? "Oh, yes, the Globe Theatre!" He exclaimed, "Brand new. Just opened. Though, strictly speaking, it's not a globe ; it's tetradecagon-14 sides-containing the man himself."

My mouth fell slightly open, "Do you mean Shakespeare is in there?"

"Oh yes!"

"Oh my god..." Martha looked as if she had just won the lottery, "He's really in there!"

"Would you ladies accompany me to the theatre?" he held out his arms for us.

Martha and I linked arms with him, "We'd love to!" I answered.

"Martha, you can tell everyone you've seen Shakespeare when you get home," he said as we walked for the theater.

"Then I could get sectioned!" she exclaimed then laughed.

~0~

I don't think I've ever been so excited for a play. But it was just so amazing...and written by Shakespeare! I loved his plays! And it was mighty surprising that the Doctor managed to get through the entire play quietly. Usually he'd make remarks about whatever play we were seeing - I still hadn't forgiven him for ruining Othello - but this time, his lips were sealed.

"That's amazing! Just amazing," Martha praised when the play had finished and the actors were taking their bows. "It's worth putting up with the smell. And those are men dressed as women, yeah?"

"London never changes," the Doctor replied.

"Forget that, I wanna see Shakespeare!" I exclaimed, frantically searching for the man.

"Me too!" cried Martha, "Author! Author!" she chanted with her fist in the air, "Do people shout that? Do they shout 'Author'?"

A man beside us picked up her chant and soon, the whole audience picked it up.

"I guess they do now," I laughed, joining in on the chant as well.

And finally, the man of the hour emerged on stage, taking his bows and blowing kisses.

"It's Shakespeare!" I exclaimed, beaming, "It's really him!"

"Now there's a genius! The genius!" the Doctor said, "The most human Human that's ever been. Now we're gonna hear him speak. He always choose a the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words.

"Shut your big fat mouths!" Shakespeare yelled, sending the audience into laughter.

"Oh, well..." the Doctor frowned, disappointed.

I smiled, "Well they do say never meet your heroes."

"And yet, you're here," he reminded.

"I said I love the man's work, I never said he was my hero," I countered.

"You have excellent taste!" Shakespeare continued, "I'll give you that. I know what you're all saying. 'Loves Labor's Lost', that's a funny ending, isn't it? It just stops! Will the boys get the girls? Well don't get your hose in a tangle, you'll find out soon. All in good time. You don't rush a genius," he took another bow and suddenly stood right back up, almost like a jerked up, "When? Tomorrow night. Come tomorrow night for my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it 'Loves Labor's Won'!"

As we exited the theater, I felt somewhat confused with Shakespeare's words. As far as I could remember, nobody in the present knew about the play he announced for tomorrow. "Uh, Doctor, I don't know if I'm right or not but...I don't really recall that new play 'Loves Labor's Won'. And I've read most of his plays..."

"It's the lost play. It doesn't exist," the Doctor replied, "It's in rumors. It's mentioned in list of his plays but never ever turns up. No one knows why."

"We could tape it," Martha suddenly said, "Sell it when we get home and make a mint."

The Doctor flatly looked at her, "No."

"That would be bad?" she asked, slowly getting it.

"Yeah."

"Um, so how come this play disappeared?" I asked, bringing their attention back.

"Well..." the Doctor looked between Martha and I, "I was just gonna give Martha a quick little trip in the TARDIS but I suppose we could stay a little longer."

I smiled at Martha, "Meaning we get to meet Shakespeare upfront."

~0~

"Hello!" the Doctor led us into the room that held the one and only, Shakespeare, "We're not interrupting, are we?"

"Oh, no, no, no, no. Who let you in? No autographs," Shakespeare was too engrossed in his writing to look up yet. "No, you can't have yourself sketched with me. And please don't ask where I get my ideas from. Thanks for the interest. Now be a good boy and shove-" He finally raised his head to give us the time of day. "Hey, nonny nonny. Sit right down here next to me," he gestured to Martha, his eyes gleaming at her, "And you two," he looked to the two men beside him, "Get sewing on them costumes. Off you go."

"Come on, lads. I think our William's found his new muse," a woman with a tray led the others out.

"Sweet lady," Shakespeare motioned for Martha to sit down. Martha smiled sheepishly and sat across his desk.

"I love your work," I walked up to his desk and plopped down beside Martha, "It's brilliant!"

He smiled, "And another sweet."

I smiled brighter, "Oh...thank you...you're very kind."

"Such unusual clothes," he observed both of us, "So...fitted."

Martha and I looked each other, examining our outfits. They were pretty normal for our time but perhaps not for the current era.

I wore a black, long-sleeved shirt tucked under a yellow and black plaid skirt with tights underneath and black flats. Martha, on the other hand, wore her party outfit that consisted of jeans, her brilliant red jacket, and a blouse underneath, with boots. Wise girl...

The Doctor moved up and held out his psychic paper to Shakespeare, "I'm sir Doctor of TARDIS and these are my companions, Minerva Souza and Martha Jones."

Shakespeare observed the paper for a moment then looked up, "Interesting, that bit of paper. It's blank."

"Oh, that's...very impressive," the Doctor blinked, looking to the paper, "That proves it. Absolute genius."

Martha took the psychic paper from the Doctor and studied it. She frowned at it seconds. "No. It says so right there. Sir Doctor, Minerva Souza, Martha Jones. It says so."

"And I say it's blank," Shakespeare smiled at her.

The Doctor took back the psychic paper, "Psychic paper. Um, long story," he frowned, glancing at me, "Oh I hate starting from scratch."

"I think it's nice," I countered, smiling at Martha, "It's refreshing to have another friend with us."

"Psychic," Shakespeare tested the word, "Never heard that before and words are my trade. Who are you? More's the point, who is your delicious blackamoor lady?"

Martha's eyes widened, "What did you say?"

"Oops...isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl? A swarth? A queen of Afric?"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Martha looked away.

"Maybe you should stop," I chuckled, "We're not from around here."

"They're from a far off land," the Doctor explained, "Freedonia."

"Excuse me!" a man barged into the room, "This is abominable behavior. A new play with no warning? I demand to see a script. As master of the Revels, every new script must be registered at my office and examined by me before it can be performed."

"Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'll send it 'round, Lynley," Shakespeare waved him off.

Lynley looked indignant, "I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine. The script, now!"

"I can't."

"Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled."

"It's all go, 'round here, isn't it?" I remarked.

"I'm returning to my office for a banning order. If it's the last thing I do, Love Labor's Won' will never be played," and with that, Lynley walked off.

"Mystery solved I guess," Martha resolved.

"I find that hard to believe," I muttered, walking for the doors.

"What?" the Doctor followed me.

I peered out into the corridor, "You're telling me 'Love's Labor's Won' is lost because of an angry boss? Please..." I scoffed.

"And why couldn't it be?"

"Have things ever gone so easy for us?" I whispered, making sure Martha or Shakespeare wouldn't hear.

He thought, already knowing the answer, "Well..."

Before he fully answered, there was a scream coming from the outside.

"There you go!" I exclaimed before running towards the scream.

We ran out into the street and saw Lynley on the ground, spitting out water.

"It's that Lynley bloke!" Martha exclaimed.

"What's wrong with him?" I frowned.

"Leave it to men, I'm a doctor," the Doctor ran for Lynley.

"Yeah, well I'm a doctor too!" Martha rushed after him, "Near enough."

With nothing to do to help, I watched over the two "doctors" that were examining Lynley. The Doctor stood around him and looked about in the street, like he was searching for something.

"Gotta get the heart going. Mr. Lynley, can you hear me?" Martha asked, "You're gonna be alright," she prepared to start mouth-to-mouth but water started pouring out from Lynley 's mouth.

"What is that?" My eyes widened in alarm.

The Doctor knelt beside Martha, "I've never seen a death like it. His lungs are full of water, he drowned and then...I don't know...like a blow to the heart, an invisible blow."

"Miss?" I called to the women of the inn. "What was your name?"

"Dolly Bailey, ma'am."

"Dolly, this man died of natural cause to the heart," I said the first words to come to mind, "Can we have some sort of officer or authority take him away?"

"Yes, ma'am," she nodded.

"I'll do it ma'am!" a young brunette girl offered and ran to do the task.

"Why did you tell them that?" Martha demanded from me, slightly irritated.

"No, she did the right thing," the Doctor nodded, "This lot still have got one foot in the Dark Ages. If we tell them the truth, they'll panic and think it was witchcraft."

"Okay, what was it then?"

"Witchcraft."

~0~

"I've got a room, Sir Doctor," Dolly Bailey smiled, "I'm afraid there's only one, however. Is that alright?"

"Just fine," the Doctor assured.

She nodded and left, leaving the Doctor, Martha, Shakespeare and myself to walk walked down the inn's corridors.

"Poor Lynley. So many strange events. Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?" Shakespeare looked at Martha, still bewildered.

"Where a woman can do what she likes," Martha nodded proudly, making me chuckle.

"So then, what are you?" the man moved onto me.

"Oh, I'm...more of free traveling girl," I said slowly, hoping that made sense.

"Ah..." he still eyed me, like he was just noticing something, "And you, Sir Doctor. How can a man so young have eyes so old?"

"I do a lot of reading," the Doctor shrugged.

"A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do. But you," he directed himself to Martha again, "You look at him like you're surprised he exists. He's as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me. And then Miss Souza, you look at her and notice such grief in her eyes."

"That's um...that's not true," I forced a dim smile.

"I don't mistake that grief because it's the same one I share, though I assume you're not a mother..."

"God no!" I shook my head, disliking the course in which this conversation was heading for.

"Martha, why don't you take Minerva and see that room, yeah?" the Doctor suggested, already moving me ahead.

"Sure," Martha nodded and we left for that room, "That Shakespeare, huh?" she shook her head with a smile of disapproval.

"Not liking the admirer?" I joked, hoping to forget the man's words fast.

"He's...different," she laughed softly, "Really twice my age now, huh?" she chuckled.

I opened the door to our room, "You're lucky the Doctor's not on your case about it. Still, not every woman can say, 'Shakespeare likes me!'"

"Hm, not very five star," she looked around.

It was a fairly small room with one bed that seemed rather old and two night stands on either side of it. There was a wooden table in the front of the only window with legs that were ready to snap at any moment. The dresser set on the opposite side seemed alright, but I wouldn't trust that my clothes wouldn't have wooden bits if I hung them there.

I headed for the bed, jumping for it and landing on my back, "I've seen worse!"

"You have?"

I nodded as I scooted up to one of the pillows and laid my head down. "I've been on the road and sometimes...there's no motels."

"Really?" she walked up to the foot of the bed.

"Sometimes, I'd settle for the great outdoors."

"Weren't you scared?"

"You wouldn't believe how beautiful the night is when you spend it outside. My favorite place so far is this desert I spent a night in. It was...different," I smiled. I wouldn't tell her that it had been the same night I witnessed a a strange man coming out of the box of wonders after seemingly crasremembering the strange man I had seen with a box of wonders like the Doctor's.

Then again, now that I was well informed, I knew that it was the same TARDIS and it was the same man, just one regeneration later. I gotta say, now that I knew it had been a future Doctor I'd seen, I wished I could've gotten closer to see how he looked. I was only granted a small glimpse of him; he wore bow ties and had nice hair. I wish I could see him again.

But the thing that made me the happiest about that day was the fact that he had called my name out. He wanted to get back to me and that meant we still traveled together. After two regenerations we still traveled together. And on the slight chance we didn't, he was still going back for me...

"You spent a night in the desert?" Martha's eyes widened, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Who did?" the Doctor walked in.

"Minerva!"

"Really?"

"Mhm," I nodded, propping my elbows on the bed and sitting up, "Something else you don't know, it was that same desert where I saw you."

"Um...I don't suppose any of you have a toothbrush?" Martha looked between us, the thought just striking her.

"Oh, wait," the Doctor patted his pockets and pulled out a brush, "Contains Venusian spearmint."

"Oh, thanks," she took it from him, "So, who's going where? There's only one bed."

I turned to the side, snuggling into the pillow, "You two can figure it out. I'm taking this side of the bed. In any case, we could just throw the Doctor to the floor."

"Hm, or we can just throw Minerva on the floor," I heard him mutter.

"No, because then Minerva will hurt you."

"Don't worry you menace, I don't mind the floor," he assured, the sarcasm just dripping from his tongue.

"You should think I'm a menace," I warned with a smirk.

"Um, I'm gonna go and use this," Martha said, assuming she meant the brush, "And, I don't really mind where I end up," I heard her footsteps then the door shut.

A moment later, the bed shuffled. I turned to the other side and saw the Doctor laying down with his hands behind his head.

"What are you doing?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I figured if I'm not gonna sleep here, I should at least get to feel how comfortable it is."

"I was only joking, Doctor. I'll be fine anywhere," I said, moving to sit up.

"No, don't worry about it," he stopped me. I laid back on the pillow, watching him in his thoughts, "I'm sorry for what Shakespeare said to you."

" Huh? Why are you sorry? Wait, what's there to be sorry about in the first place?" I frowned, severely confused.

"And I'm sorry for being so protective of you because you're right, I am overprotective," he shifted to his side, leaving us face to face, "I shouldn't be but I am."

"You know, Shakespeare is like twice the age Martha is, why haven't you acted the same?"

"Because I don't know her and frankly, as rude as it may sound, I don't care," he admitted, and it did sound rude but I awaited for him to explain himself before I snapped at him, "Minerva, I feel like you've been hurt enough and I took it upon myself to make sure that nothing and no one hurts you again."

That damn Martian always manages to escape that scold, doesn't he? I had to smile at him. "That's very sweet of you but I'm okay now. I've got a really good friend with me that makes me happy. Plus, I'm pretty sure Da Vinci wouldn't have hurt me. He just wanted to paint me."

He leaned closer and whispered, "Twice your age and never gonna happen."

"903 and alien," I reminded, "What would those women say, hm?"

"Nothing because they'd be too focused on my looks!"

I laughed, "And the ego rises to incredible levels! Focus on the problem at hand instead!"

"Yeah alright," he said and I assumed the only reason he moved on was to avoid bickering with me. Smart move. "Well, for starters, there is such a thing as psychic energy but a human couldn't channel it like that. Not without a generator the size of a Taunton and I think we've have spotted that."

"Maybe it's not human then," I offered the only logical reason.

"We're missing something, Minerva. Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can't see it."

"I...I don't know," I mumbled, feeling slightly lost in his eyes after he'd shifted closer. I never realized how deeply brown his eyes were. He always moved too fast for me to notice anything about his physical features on a deeper level. "Perhaps-"

"Rose would know," he said, oblivious to what I was thinking. Of course he'd be. "She'd say exactly the right thing."

Even though I tried hiding it, I had to frown, "Was she the only one who would said 'exactly the right thing'?"

"She'd definitely have the right words to calm to my ego," he chuckled, "She'd know what to do next."

"Only one, huh," I turned away from him, very irritated. Nice to know my input mattered to him, "Goodnight."

It doesn't even matter if Rose is stuck in another dimension. All my clever ideas, my words and ways would never suffice in comparison to Rose's. I would still and probably always be second best for him.

~0~

It was the middle of the night when we heard a shout from outside. I jumped out of bed and the Doctor already half way to the door. Martha and I quickly ran after him and entered Shakespeare's room to see Dolly Bailey on the floor, unconscious. Martha ran to the window while the Doctor ran to the woman.

"Her heart gave out. She died of fright," he looked up.

"She's dead?" I blinked, glancing to Shakespeare who was just waking up on his desk.

"Minerva? Doctor?" Martha called from the window.

"What is it?" I walked towards her.

"What did you see?" the Doctor asked.

"A witch."

"Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey," Shakespeare sighed, making us turn to him, "She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place. We all ran like rats. But what could have scared her so? She had such enormous spirit."

"Rage, rage, against the dying of the light," the Doctor walked back to the desk.

"I might use that."

"You can't. It's someone else's.."

"You know," I began thinking, looking straight to Shakespeare, "Lynley and Dolly both died the same day and they were both connected to you. That's a bit strange."

"Are you accusing me?" He quickly jumped on it with alarm.

"No," I shook my head, "It's just strange."

"Yeah, and I saw a witch out there," Martha pointed, "And you've written about witches."

"I have? When was that?" Shakespeare asked, confused.

"Not, not quite yet," the Doctor whispered to Martha,

"Peter Streete spoke of witches," Shakespeare announced.

"Who was that?" I asked.

"Our builder. He sketched the plans to the Globe."

"The Architect. Hold on," the Doctor smiled, "The architect! The Globe! Come on!"

~0~

"What exactly are we doing?" Martha inquired once we were near the stage.

I took a seat on the edge of the stage, letting my legs dangle below, "Not exactly sure, but I'm guessing we're about to find out.

"Why are we here?" Shakespeare asked, "I do not understand."

The Doctor had brought us to the Globe Theater with no explanation whatsoever. We watched from the stage as he looked round and round. It was his thought process only it was on speed. He was striding from one place to another, mumbling things under his breath.

"Is he ever going to talk to us?" Martha asked me after a few minutes passed by.

"It's just his way," I whispered. We watched for a bit more until he finally started asking questions out loud.

"The columns there, right?" he began, "14 sides. I've always wondered but I never asked...tell me, Will, why 14 sides?"

"It was the shape Peter Street thought best, that's all. Said it carried the sound well," Shakespeare responded.

"Why does that ring a bell? 14..."

"There are 14 lines a sonnet," Martha offered.

"So there is. Good point. Words and shapes following the same design. 14 lines, 14 sides, 14 facets...oh my head. Tetradecagon...think, think, think! Words, letter, numbers, lines!"

"This is just a theater!" Shakespeare exclaimed.

"Now hold on," I raised a finger, "A theater could hold much power if the right words are said. Capture the moment and capture the audience," the Doctor pointed to me, agreeing. I smiled, proudly.

"It's like your police box!" Martha exclaimed, "Small wooden box with all that power inside."

"Did I mention I like both of you?" he stopped pacing, "Tell you what, though. Peter Street would know. Can I talk to him?"

"You won't get an answer," Shakespeare shook his head, "A month after finish this place...he lost his mind."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled."

"Well, where is he now?" the Doctor asked.

"Bedlam."

"What's Bedlam?" Martha questioned.

"Hospital. It's the madhouse."

"Well I'll tell you one thing," I hopped off the stage, "Suddenly he's not looking so mad now, is he?"

"We need to go there. Let's go," the Doctor walked for the exit.

"Wait! I'm coming with you. I want to witness this at first hand!" Shakespeare cried, rushing to follow us. When he caught up, he wasted no time in flirting around with Martha.

"Do you really think Peter will talk to us?" I asked the Doctor, giving Martha and Shakespeare an occasional look back. Martha seemed very much entertained, although not very approving.

"It's like you said," the Doctor replied, "He might not be that mad."

"I was only suggesting..."

"But you're usually right."

"I am, aren't I?" I smiled.

"Whoah, Nelly!" we heard Martha, "I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country!"

"But Martha, this is Town," Shakespeare reasoned.

"Okay, come on, we can all have a good flirt later," the Doctor looked back.

"Is that a promise, Doctor?" Shakespeare smirked.

"Oh, 57 academics just punched the air," the Doctor frowned as I laughed softly, "Now move!"

~0~

This building was horrible. We passed what seemed like an endless amount of cells with patients who were nowhere near any humane care. All the screams and cries from the 'patients' were so heartbreaking. At least to me anyways because others...well...

"Does my lord, Doctor, wish some entertainment while he waits?" the jailer guiding us asked, "I'd whip these madmen. They'll put on a good show for ya!"

"No, I don't!" the Doctor snapped.

"Wait here, my lords, while I make him decent for the ladies," the jailer went off.

"This place is disgusting," I spat, "And I'm not talking smell-wise. How could people actually whip these, 'patients'-" I put my fingers in quotation marks, "-to entertain the public?" I shot look at Shakespeare, "You put your friend in here?"

"Oh, and it's all so different in Freedonia?" he raised an eye brow.

"But you're clever!" Martha exclaimed, "Do you honestly think this place is any good?"

"I've been mad. I've lost my mind. Fear of this place set me right again. It serves its purpose."

"Mad in what way?" I asked, fairly intrigued.

"You lost your son," the Doctor said softly.

"My only boy," Shakespeare looked down, "The Black Death took him. I wasn't even there."

"We didn't know," Martha shook her head, "Sorry."

"It made me question everything. The futility of this fleeting existence. To be or not to be...oh, that's quite good."

"You should write it down," I pointed, smiling.

"Hm," he considered it, "A bit pretentious?"

"This way, my lord!" the jailer called us.

We walked up to the cell and waited for it to be unlocked, "They can be dangerous, my lord. Don't know their own strength." the jailer opened it up.

"I think it helps if you don't whip them!" the Doctor said, fairly annoyed, "Now get out!"

"That's Peter?" I pointed to the man sitting against the wall, his legs in front of his chest and head covered with his arms.

"He's the same as he was. You'll get nothing out of him," Shakespeare said, staying back.

"Peter?" the Doctor slowly approached him, even placing his hand over Peter's shoulder, "Peter?" Peter looked up, completely silent. The Doctor placed his fingertips on the sides of Peter's temples, "Peter, I'm the Doctor. Go into the past, one year ago. Let your mind go back, back to when everything was fine and shining. Everything that happened in this year since happened to somebody else. It was just a story. A winter's tale. Let go. Listen. That's it, just let go," Peter lied down on his cot, "Tell me the story, Peter. Tell me about the witches."

"Witches spoke to Peter. In the night, they whispered. Got Peter to build the Globe to their design. Their design! The 14 walls; always 14. When the work was done..." Peter laughed, "They sapped poor Peter's wits."

"Where did Peter see the witches? Where in the city?" the Doctor crouched beside him, "Peter, tell me. You've got to tell me where were they?"

"All Hallows Street."

"Too many words," an old lady suddenly appeared beside the Doctor. Quickly, he moved back to where we were.

"Who the hell are you?" I demanded.

"Just one touch of the heart," she ignored me, laying her hand on Peter's chest.

"No!" the Doctor yelled.

But Peter shrieked and died in less than a second.

"Witch! I'm seeing a witch!" Shakespeare cried.

"Oh, oh, I'll stop your frantic hearts. Poor, fragile mortals," the woman turned around.

"Let us out! Let us out!" Martha turned to the door, struggling to open it.

"I don't think that's gonna work," I said, looking back, "We're in a madhouse. Everyone wants to get out."

"Who will die first, hm?" the woman pointed at us.

"Well, if you're looking for volunteers," the Doctor walked towards her without a moment's thought.

"Doctor don't! Don't you dare!" I yelled at him but he kept going. Of course he would!

"No mortal has power over me," the woman laughed, wickedly.

"Oh but there's a power in words. If I can find the right one...if I can just know you..." the Doctor stopped a few inches away from the old woman.

"None on Earth has knowledge of us," the woman assured.

"Then it's a good thing I'm here! Now think, think, think...Humanoid female, uses shapes and words to channel energy...ah, 14! That's it! 14! The 14 stars of the Rexel planetary configuration! Creature, I name you Carrionite!"

And just like that, she disappeared, crying out.

"What did you do?" I asked, confused just like everyone else was.

"I named her. The power of a name. That's old magic," he turned around with his usual grin on his face.

"But there's no such thing as magic," Martha stated.

"Well it's just a different sort of science. You lot, you chose mathematics. Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you can split the atom. Carrionites use words instead."

"Use words for what?" Shakespeare asked.

"The end of the world."

"We should go," Martha said, "I don't think I want to spend another minute here."

When the jailer hurried on back and let us out, we walked with a hasty speed.

"I never wanna come back here," I muttered, almost shuddering.

"Hopefully, we won't," the Doctor said. I smacked him without even looking at him and took pleasure when he cried in pain. "What was that for!?" he frowned.

"For scaring me out of my wits!"

"Wha - I wasn't gonna actually die..."

"But I didn't know that! Next time, a little warning would be nice."

"Alright, sorry. "

"So what about these Carrionites?" Martha questioned, moving beside us, "What are they?"

"The Carrionites disappeared way back at the dawn of the universe," the Doctor explained, "Nobody was sure if they were real or legend."

"Well, I'm going for real," Shakespeare nodded.

"But what do they want now?" I asked.

"A new empire on Earth. A world of bones and blood and witchcraft."

"But how?" Martha asked, not sure if to herself or for us.

"I'm looking at the man with the words," the Doctor looked straight at Shakespeare.

"But I've done nothing!" he cried, indignantly.

"What were you doing last night when the Carrionite was in the room?" I asked, suddenly thinking.

"Finishing the play."

"What happens on the last page?" the Doctor questioned.

"The boys get the girls. They have a bit of a dance. It's all as funny and thought provoking as usual, except those last few lines..." he paused, "Funny thing is, I don't actually remember writing them."

"That's it. They used you. They gave you the final words. Like a spell, like a code. 'Love's Labor Won', it's a weapon!" the Doctor exclaimed, "The right combinations of words, spoken at the right place with the shape of the Globe as an energy converter! The play's the thing! And yes, you can have that."

Shakespeare smiled, amused. "Very well."

We returned to Shakespeare's room and grabbed a map of the town. They placed it on the desk and began studying it for the street that Peter has given us.

"There it is," Martha pointed, "But...what now?"

"We're gonna track them down," the Doctor said, glancing to Shakespeare, "Will, you get to the Globe. Whatever you do, stop that play!"

"I'll do it!" he shook the Doctor's hand, "All these years I've been the cleverest man around. Next to you, I know nothing."

"Now don't complain," I smiled.

"I'm not. It's marvelous. Good luck, Doctor!"

"Good luck, Shakespeare," the Doctor replied, motioning for Martha and I to head for the door, "Once more unto the breach!"

"I like that. Wait a minute...that's one of mine!" Shakespeare exclaimed.

I chuckled, "I think you just made his day."

"Oh, c'mon!" the Doctor rushed out.

~0~

As we approached All Hallows Street, we looked around at the houses but found ourselves lost for which one it could be.

"This might take a little longer," I frowned, peering into a corner.

"Sorry, but there's something I think I'm missing here," Martha stopped walking, "Last time I remember, the world didn't end in 1599. I'm still here. And so is Minerva."

"Oh, how to explain the mechanics of the infinite temporal flux?" the Doctor threw his head back, thinking for a moment, "Oh! I know! 'Back to the Future'! It's just like that!"

"The film?"

"No, the novelization. Yes, the film!" he snapped, "Marty McFly goes back and changes history."

"And he starts fading away..." Martha whispered, 'Oh my God, are we gonna fade?"

"You two and the entire future of the human race. It ends right now in 1599 if we don't stop it."

"Oh great, and I had so many plans," I frowned.

"We need to find that house," the Doctor looked around, "But which one?"

Suddenly, a door to a house ahead of us opened up.

"I...think we found it..." I pointed a shaky finger at the house. Witches. These were actual witches we were going to go face off...

We headed for the house and as soon as we entered we found a familiar brunette woman standing across from us. It was the same young woman that had been there when Shakespeare's boss had died.

"I take it we're expected," the Doctor looked at the woman."

"Oh, I think Death has been waiting for you a very long time," she smiled, almost taunting him.

"Right then, it's my turn," Martha stepped forth, "I know how to do this. I name thee, Carrionite!" she pointed to the girl but she remained standing, "What did I do wrong? Was it the finger?"

"The power of a name works only once. Observe," the girl pointed at Martha, "I gaze upon this bag of bones and now I name thee Martha Jones."

Martha fell to the ground in that instant. I almost lost it and rushed to her side. "Martha!" I glared up at the girl who couldn't be more smug. "What did you do?"

"Only sleeping, alas. Curious, the name has less impact. She's somehow out of her time. And as for you," She now pointed at me, "For the one that called herself Joy-"

"We have done enough of this," the Doctor cut her off, "What are you doing here?"

The girl, scowling at being cut off, turned to him with a pointing finger, "Well, I guess you'll be next. Now you, Sir Doctor." She paused, seeming confused, "Oh...fascinating. With you, there is no name. Why would a man hide his title in such despair? Oh, but look. There's still one word with the power that aches."

"The naming won't work on me."

"But your heart grows cold. The north wind blows and carries down the distant..." she leaned closer, a smirk playing on her lips, "Rose."

That set him off. He angrily marched up to her, "Oh, big mistake 'cause that name keeps me fighting! The Carrionites vanished!"

"The Eternals found the right word to banish us into deep darkness."

"And how did you escape?"

"New words. New and glittering from a mind like no other."

"Shakespeare," I whispered in realization.

"His son perished. The grief of a genius."

"Of course, when someone you love dies, your words become powerful," I mumbled.

"Spoken by one that knows the pain," she remarked, making me quiet down immediately.

"Shut up," I muttered, keeping Martha's head off the ground.

"Behold, the one who could not forgive and lost a certain...Liv."

My eyes shot up, and I assumed the anger I felt flourish through my body was the same one that the Doctor felt when the stupid witch brought up Rose. "Shut up!" I jumped up to my feet. ""You better shut your mouth before I shut it for you!"

The Doctor grabbed my arm, pulling me back to his side. "What is that?"

"It's nothing," I tried charging for the girl but he had a good hold on my arm.

"Uh, yeah, definitely nothing. How many of you are there?" he demanded from the girl.

"Start with your name so that I know who I'll hurt," I spat.

She glared, "Just the three. I am Lilith. But the play shall restore the rest. Then the human race will be purged as pestilence. And from this world we will lead the universe back to the old ways of blood and magic."

"Hmm...busy schedule...but first you gotta get past me," the Doctor met her face to face.

"Oh, that should be a pleasure considering my enemy has such a handsome shape," she smirked, running her fingers along his face.

I glared, and when I caught myself I shook my head of it. What was that!?

"Now, that's one form of magic that's definitely not gonna work on me," he said, serious, and to his credit he only seemed irritated she was touching him.

"Oh, we'll see," she pulled a lock of his hair and backed away to the window.

"What did you do!?" he quickly flung his hands to his head.

"Souvenir!"

"Well, give it back!" He rushed after her but she flew out through the window, levitating herself outside.

"Now that's just cheating," he stopped at the windowsill.

I knelt down to Martha, seeing she was waking up again, "Martha? Are you alright now?" I sat her up, "Martha?" I looked back to the pair across from us.

All I saw was the Doctor letting out a shrill cry before falling to the floor. Quickly, I moved to his side, Martha right behind me.

"Oh my god!" I exclaimed, laying him on his back with the help of Martha, "Martha?"

"I've got it!" she listened to his heartbeat, "Hold on, mister." She sat him up, "Two hearts?"

"You're making a habit of this," he moved to stand. When he did, he nearly fell again if Martha and I hadn't caught him, "I've only got one heart working! How do you people cope?" he looked between us.

"'Cause we're not aliens!" I exclaimed, "We're just that good!"

He rolled his eyes, "I've got to get the other one started. Hit me! Hit me on the chest!" Martha did as told, "Ah! Other side!" This time, I hit him, "On the back! On the back!" Martha went again. "Left a bit!" she moved to the left, "Ah, lovely," we let him go and he stood perfectly, "There we go! Ba-da-boom! Well, what are you standing there for?" he looked between us, "Come on! The Globe!"

And we ran again. We were running down the street when he made a turn that we had not made before. I stopped running, out of breath, "We're going the wrong way!" I yelled.

"No, we're not!" he continued. I rolled my eyes and waited just a moment. He ran back and passed me, "We're going the wrong way!"

"You don't say?" I sarcastically gasped and rushed after him.

We stopped in front of the theater which held a red glow shinning up to the sky, Inside, the audience was screaming and scrambling to get out.

"What now?" Martha exclaimed.

"Back door!" the Doctor ordered, and we rushed again.

We ran in through the backstage and found Shakespeare rubbing his head.

"Stop the play! I think that was it," the Doctor rushed up to him, "Yeah, I said, 'Stop the play'!"

"I hit my head!"

"Yeah, don't rub it, you'll go bald," the Doctor muttered. He turned at the sound of the screams that were growing louder, "I think that's my cue!" he ran to the stage.

"Not much of a people person right now, is he?" Martha asked, going to help Shakespeare.

I sighed, "He's a bit busy."

We both helped Shakespeare onto the stage where all the chaos was centered.

"Come on, Will! History needs you!" the Doctor grabbed him.

"But what can I do?" Shakespeare asked, helpless.

"Reverse it!"

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"The shape of the Globe gives words power, but you're the wordsmith, the one true genius. The only man clever enough to do it!"

"But what words? I have none ready!"

"You're William Shakespeare!" I reminded, "You always have the right words."

"But these Carrionite phrases, they need such precision!" he shook his head, "I'm not sure if I can do this..."

"Trust yourself," I smiled, "Your words are perfect."

"You think so?"

I nodded, "Didn't I say? I loved all your work."

He smiled, looking out to the audience and sky, "Close up this den of hateful, dire decay! Decomposition of your witches' plot! You thieve my brains, consider me your toy. My doting Doctor tells me I am not! Foul Caionite spectres, cease your show! Between the points..." he glanced at the Doctor.

"7-6-1-3-9-0!" the Doctor yelled.

"7-6-1-3-9-0!" And banished like a tinker's cuss, I saw to thee..." He looked to the Doctor for help again.

"Expelliarmus!" Martha suddenly shouted.

"Expelliarmus!" the Doctor joined.

"Expelliarmus!" I yelled afterwards.

"Expelliarmus!" Shakespeare finished it off.

"The deep darkness! They are consumed! Ahh!" Lilith screamed as she and the rest of her kind were sucked up into the cloud...but along with them went every script and copy of the play.

"The play..." I said, sadly, my curiosity of its words getting the best of me.

When the audience saw everything gone, they erupted into applauds and cheers. The Doctor took a bow, as if he were part of the play. The rest of the actors returned and also took their bows.

"They think it was all special effects," Martha looked around.

"Your effect is special indeed," Shakespeare glanced at her.

"Oh Shakespeare," I shook my head, "So many words and so not the right ones..."

~0~

"Okay, I just drank something and it tasted really good...but I don't know what it was," I plopped down in one of the theater's audience seat. Martha and Shakespeare laughed, both sitting on the edge of the stage, "I mean it. Perhaps the Doctor is right...I shouldn't drink everything offered to me."

"Good props store back there! I'm not sure about this though..." the Doctor walked onto the stage wearing a ruff collar and a skull in hand, "Reminds me of a Sycorax. Whaddya think Minerva?"

"Kind of," I shrugged.

"Sycorax. Nice word. I'll have that off you as well," Shakespeare said.

"Copyright it," I joked, earning back a smile from the Martian.

"How's your head?" He walked over to the pair.

"Still aching," Shakespeare sighed.

"Here, I got you this," the Doctor removed his collar and placed it around Shakespeare's neck, "Neck brace. Wear that for a few days till it's better."

I smiled, "Although, it does suit you. Might wanna keep it."

"What about the play?" Martha asked.

"Gone. I looked all over, every single copy of Love Labor's Won went up in the sky," the Doctor shrugged.

"My lost masterpiece," Shakespeare frowned.

"You could write it up again," Martha offered.

"Better not. There's still power in those words," the Doctor pointed, "Maybe it should best stay forgotten."

"I've got new ideas," Shakespeare announced, smiling, "Perhaps it's time I wrote about fathers and sons. In memory of my boy; my precious Hamnet."

"Hamnet?" I repeated.

"That's him."

"Hamnet?" I raised an eye brow.

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," I held up my hands in defense, leaning back on my seat, "Nothing..."

"Anyways, time we were off. I've got a nice attic in the TARDIS where this lot can scream for all eternity," the Doctor held up the Carrionites' crystal, "And we've gotta take Martha back to Freedonia..."

My smile slightly faded. I didn't really like the idea of that.

"You mean travel on through time and space," Shakespeare corrected.

"You what?" the Doctor blinked, definitely not expecting that.

"You're from another world like the Carrionites and Martha and Minerva are from the future. It's not hard to work out."

The Doctor remained in place, dumbfounded, "That's...incredible. You are incredible."

"We're alike in many ways, Doctor. Martha, let me say goodbye to you in a new verse," he took Martha's hand, "A sonnet for my Dark Lady. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate-"

"Will! Will!" one of the actors ran in, "You'll never believe it! She's here! She's turned up!"

"We're talk of the town!" another actor exclaimed, 'She heart about last night! She wants us to perform it again!"

"Who?" I asked.

"Her Majesty! She's here!"

And then, Queen Elizabeth I herself walked in! My mouth nearly hit the ground from excitement.

"Oh my god!" I cried happily, almost jumping my place. The Doctor held a hand out for me to take and get on stage. "Doctor, it's her! It's a Queen! She's a Queen! She's Queen Elizabeth!"

"I know!" the Doctor exclaimed and I dared to think we were sharing the same stupid grins on our faces. I'd have to ask Martha later on. "Queen Elizabeth I!"

However, when the Queen looked at us both her entire face fell into a deep fury. "Doctor!"

She, on the other hand, did not look so pleased to see him, "Doctor!"

"What?" the Doctor asked, slightly taken back.

"Uh...she looks mad. Doctor she looks mad - why?" I grabbed his arm, shaking him a bit until he shoved my hand off.

"Minerva, quit that!"

"Minerva?" the Queen suddenly glared at me now. "You're Minerva?"

"...I'm afraid to answer..." I admitted and might have grabbed onto the Doctor's arm again, this time out of fear. She looked infuriated with us - the both of us! I've never even met the woman!

"My sworn enemies!" she raged as loud as the wind would carry her voice.

"What!?" the Doctor blinked.

"What is she-"

"Off with their heads!"

"WAIT-" I exclaimed in utter shock but Elizabeth seemed like she'd already decided this a long time ago.

"Off with their heads!"

"Uuh...should we maybe run?" Martha called from below.

"M-Martha makes a good point, Doctor..." I pulled back a step but Elizabeth seemed to have found yet another reason to be angry.

"Martha Jones!?"

Martha froze like a deer caught in headlights.

"She just started traveling with us! Doctor! What did you do!?" I turn on the Time Lord fast, having half a mind to throw him to the Queen so Martha and I could make a run for it. (We'd eventually come back for him with the TARDIS...)

"RUN!" Martha had the good sense to yell at us.

"Right, argue later! C'mon!" I grabbed the Doctor's hand and ran us down the stage, leaving Martha to follow us.

"Stop that pernicious travelers!" We heard Elizabeth yell from behind.

"What just happened!?" Martha was probably scared but she was laughing like she couldn't believe it...and truthfully neither could we.

"No idea! We've never even met her!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"She sure seems to know all of us, though! Way to go you idiot!"

"She called your name too, let's not forget! How do I know it wasn't your fault!?"

"Because it's never my fault!"

"Oh!"

"You guys are hilarious!" Martha said as we reached the TARDIS.

We anxiously waited for the Doctor to unlock it. Elizabeth's guards were incredibly fast.

"You think maybe we could just talk - AH!" I ducked down the moment I saw an incoming arrow. It hit the TARDIS instead but it wasn't the last one coming for us.

"IN!" the Doctor grabbed my arm and shoved me inside. He quickly ran inside and closed the doors, making a hasty sprint towards the console. "Off we go then!"

"What is it that we supposedly did to her!?" Martha continued to laugh as we took off.

"I suppose whatever it was he hasn't done it yet," I shook my head, catching a smell from my hair that hadn't been there five minutes ago, "Oh..." I grabbed a strand of it and sniffed it, "Okay, no more drinking things."

"Told you," the Doctor smirked.

"I asked you to come with me! I don't know my way around drinks," I reminded, "But you wanted to play dress up on the stage."

"I was not playing dress up."

"Mhm," I turned around and headed for the corridors, "Anyways, if you two don't mind, I'm going for a shower. Doctor, if you mind, I'm going to raid the wardrobe again."

"This place has a wardrobe?" Martha asked, sounding shocked, "Really?'

"Comes in handy when you don't have clothes," I shrugged, "Reminds me, I'm gonna need to go back to Earth soon. I have so many things to do. I haven't even turned in my volunteering proof! I don't want to fall behind again."

"Sure," the Doctor said, oddly quietly despite the spectacle that had just happened to us.

"See you in a bit," I waved and rushed off.

[starlightrealmofficial]

Mob Psycho 100 III- Episode 4 Review

Intro:

Hello ladies, gentlemen and all those inbetween from all across the multiverse! My name is Rouga and today I bring you another installment of the Mob Psycho 100 III reviews. this time the number that comes after three. When I last spoke to you through my inaudible words about this here anime we'd had a little bit of setup for what seems to be the grand conflict of the season, sort of like Claw was. and with Dimple ready to take control of fifty thousand people with that creepy as all hell Mob disguise things are shaping up to be pretty bad. Fifty kilo units of person is quite a lot of manpower for such an existance as Dimple, With this complete and utter bunglenut of a spirit at the helm things have the potential to turn, shall we say interesting. So without further ado let's jump right into it.

Episode Review:

We begin this episode with the number of schoolgirls interested in Mob shrinking 1x Mezato Ichiwhich was to be rather expected what with the completely real not in any way not human, perfectly legitimate founder and creator of the Psycho Helmet Religion showing up to replace Mo… erm I mean clear up the misunderstanding and stop dragging Mob into matters he has completely no relevancy to of course. and further decreased with the telepathy obsessed girl also noping out on him in favor of the psycho helmet dudes, something is definetely fishy here, tho I do not know what or just how much. I am honestly quite pleasantly surprised with Reigen this episode as he actually did some detective-based work to look into the building deterioration, which as someone who is currently going through kamen Rider W, makes me very happy and shows that if Reigen wants to be, he can be quite skilled at many things from massages to photo editting to gaming and even some bit of web design. There is truly more to him than meets the eye and he's not even an alien, at least I don't think he is? he is a great pretender tho. Anyways, getting sidetracked. And just as I imagined things with Psycho Hat guys are going down a brainwashing powder made from the divine broco-tree is some seriously high level stuff if it can even overshadow Teruki's mindbrain And in the previous shot of all those townspeaople one had very characteristic cheeks, I wonder if that's also an effect given they are very dimple-esque or just something random. What's more during Teru's shot we saw Psycho Helmet behind him and while DImple is a spirit I don't think he has the ability to move soundlessly like that to sneak up on Teru with the physical form whatever it is. This is turning the harmless bunglenuts into a serious creep alert and I'm honestly all for it if well executed. The action sequence with Teru battling against the self proclaimed God of brocoli was a very well executed exchange, Showing us the power of this new threat through opposing it to Teru, one of the most capable psychics we've seen in the series and for someone of even his caliber to be able to be briefly overpowered this is trully a large threat. Seeing a comeback of Minegishi, the plant esper in this episode wasn't something I considered but it does make sense for giving us an expert's take on the problem at hand, even if said expert was rather quickly also overpowered by the broco-tree, plus it's nice seeing him turn over a new leaf and get a proper job. Reigen is coming in clutch with the planning this episode he really thinks about his actions and is happy to reach out for the needed help which also gives us an excuse to see Ritsu so that's nice. Especially since it gives us a normal person's point of view on the sheer magnitude of such a task. Seeing more shots of the other characters get wrapped up in this whole religion mess and roping an unknowing Ritsu into being brainwashed was something I honestly did not think about but it's at least good that Reigen did not eat the candy he gave out. I shudder to think of what would happen if Reigen, the guiding force for Mob tried protecting the threat too. And even worse, if the brainwashing could extend to Mob himself.

And wouldn't you know it, Reigen did get brainwashed by the sheer power of, whatever the heck it is that did that. I guess the tree is now powerfool enough to be able to spread its influence around the city with the roots? that'd make sense. Thankfuly Mob caught on rather quickly to what is going on and attempts to stand up to it alone. Weirdly Mesato wasn't brainwashed, or at least not enough to stand in his way and now the believers think they have two founders. With Dimple off the leash, Reigen and most of the city brainwashed, Teru's status being unknown and Mob growing ever nearer that magic 100, Episode 5 is sure to give us something really grand This somewhat reminds me of the Mogami arc in some aspects with the fact that Mob is in a way singled out and i am very much looking forward to seeing it. An interesting little tidbit I wanted to point out here was also in the next episode's preview bit Reigen talking still brainwashed which is some nice attention to detail With that. This will be all for the review. i hope to see you all in the next one when Episode 5 drops. Before I go however I will say that I am soon going to be slightly branching out thanks to the return of a certain Togashi to the world of manga so do look forward to seeing some more of my creative side. I have been Rouga, and thank you for reading!

[chasholidays]

Bellarke super villain/super hero au where Bellamy is the villain and Clarke is the hero. I'm thinking Captain Cold/Flash vibes from the Flash show, but idk if you've watched that and am not super torn if you go a different direction.

definitely ended up going a different direction

Bioshock ranks about second or third on the list of Boston-area superheroes Bellamy respects, which is why, when she lands next to him one night while he’s on a stakeout in Dorchester, he doesn’t immediately pick a fight.

“Isn’t your company in Brighton?” he asks instead. “Please tell me you didn’t come all the way out here to bust me. Are you on the BPD payroll now?”

She doesn’t even crack a smile. “No. I came all the way out here to ask for your help.”

That’s a surprise, and from the pointed way Bioshock is looking forward, watching the intersection and not him, she feels about as weird about it as he does.

Bellamy and Bioshock are, nominally, not really on the same side. Bioshock is a corporate super, on the payroll of, last he heard, Polaris, a fairly new tech company with a lot of expensive equipment just waiting to be stolen. This makes Bioshock, at least in common parlance, a hero, someone who has registered her real name and powers with an agency, and who offers her services to anyone who wants to pay her to protect their goods from, well–

From people like him.

“You know we’re not on the same side, right?” he asks. “Isn’t this what Ark is supposed to do for you? Don’t you guys have a union?”

“Umbra,” she says, and it’s not as if they know each other, not as if they’re friends, but something in her tone makes him sit up and take notice. “You think I’d be here if I thought I had a better choice?”

It’s hard to be offended, when he knows she’s right. He can think of a few reasons he might go to a corporate for help, and if he did, he’d know what he was asking. Bioshock must too.

“Okay,” he says. “So, you want my help. What’s up?”

“You know I’m working for Polaris now, right?”

“That was what I heard, yeah.”

“My roommate is too. Not as a super, just as a regular employee. And I’m worried about her.”

“Worried about her how?”

“She hasn’t been acting like herself. She’s been spending a lot of time at work, which–she’s always been a workaholic. But not like this. And everything Ark told me about the job has been true, so–if there’s something going on, I think Ark knows about it.”

He lets out an actual cackle. “Holy shit, are you going rogue?”

But she’s serious. “Not yet. Not until I have more information.”

“So where do I come in?”

“You can get information I can’t. You’re unaligned, and I know you break into corporations and get stuff to sell. If you can steal tech, you can steal information.”

“And you can’t?”

“I’m a guard. I can give you information, but if they catch me inside, I’m fucked.”

That’s true too. Corporates going rogue is a big deal; Ark knows everything about her, and if they knew she turned against them, they’d blast her real identity everywhere. She has protection Bellamy doesn’t have, but only as long as she does as she’s told.

“So you want me to get fucked instead.”

“Better you than me,” she teases, but it actually lands as a joke. “It’s not like your powers aren’t more suited to espionage than mine.”

“True.” He looks at her, the slick profile that gives almost nothing away. Like most corporates, her costume is top of the line, military grade protection. Even through all the layers of disguise, he thinks she looks tired. “Why should I trust you?”

She must have been expecting the question, because there’s no hesitation. She leans forward, pulling off her cowl and exposing her face. She’s pretty, but unfamiliar, not that that’s surprising. This city is full of people he doesn’t know. He could have walked by her a hundred times and he probably still wouldn’t know her. “My name is Clarke Griffin,” she says. “I’ll give you my address too, if you want.”

It takes him a moment to recover from the shock. “Why do you trust me?”

“I did my research. Will you do it?”

It could still be a trap, but, honestly, it feels like a lot of work to trap him. Especially from Ark, whose companies Bellamy rarely hassles. Even Tempest probably doesn’t care enough to run a long con on him. They have to have better things to do with their time.

“I want some more proof of identity. Not your address, something that links you to the name.”

“I’m on Facebook and I work at the MFA. I’m doing tours tomorrow from noon to five.”

“Okay. If I’m in, I’ll meet you back here tomorrow. Same bat time, same bat channel.”

She nods, pulls her cowl back on. “Thank you.”

“I haven’t agreed yet.”

“I know. But thank you anyway.”

And then she’s gone.

He goes to the MFA the next day and walks past Bioshock in the galleries. She’s at the head of a tour, with a name tag reading Clarke on her chest.

So that’s that. They’re doing this.

*

“So, what am I looking for, exactly?”

Bellamy’s superpower is pretty awesome, if he does say so himself. Like most powers, it started manifesting when he was in high school, and he found he could just blend into and through things. He can’t just hide in shadows, he can melt into walls.

Like Bioshock said, he’s really good at espionage.

Her voice crackles back through the communicator. “My roommate’s name is Raven Reyes.”

“Is she here?” he asks.

“Right now? No, she should be at home.”

“Where does she think you are?”

“She knows what I do.”

“Wow.”

“Does no one know about you?”

“No one I’m not related to.”

“Is that hard?”

“If I wanted people to know who I was, I’d be a corporate. If your roommate isn’t here, why do I care about her name?”

“Because I think whatever she’s working on is doing something bad to her. She started off telling me all about it, and now every time I ask she says she’ll tell me when it’s ready.”

“Ominous.”

“Yeah. I might just be paranoid, but–”

“Better safe than sorry.”

“Yeah. Her project is called ALIE, A-L-I-E.”

“How’s she acting different? Just not talking about it?”

“Not just that. She’s–she was in an accident a few years ago. Her leg. She’s been living with chronic pain, and now she’s just–not. Which would be fine if I thought she was–it feels like she was replaced by an alien that doesn’t understand what pain is.”

“So, creepy as fuck?”

“Pretty much.” She sighs. “I know I sound like an asshole.”

“You don’t. You sound worried.”

“Worried that my friend isn’t in constant pain.”

Bellamy melts through a wall into a room with a bunch of files, which is a good start. He’s not much of a hacker, but he’s found most places keep at least some hard copies. “She would have told you if she was getting treatment, right?”

“Yeah. All she says is that it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Yeah,” he says, pulling open the A drawer and scanning for ALIE. “That’s creepy as fuck.”

Bioshock snorts. “Thanks for the validation.”

“Any time.” He pauses, but they’re sort of friends now. After a fashion. “What are you going to do? If you’re right about all this. Polaris is dirty, Ark is in on it. What’s the plan?”

“Figure out how to get Raven out, and then–she’s good with computers. I’m pretty sure she could make us new identities.”

“So you’d leave?”

There’s a pause. “My mom’s a corporate too. I registered with Ark before I really knew what it meant. I’m not saying I regret it, but–I didn’t really think about what it would mean.”

The ALIE file is thick, and if Bellamy takes it someone might find out. “I’ve got something for you, but it’s on paper. You think we can make copies and bring it back tonight?”

“I’m imagining you going into a Kinkos in costume. It’s cute.”

“I was just going to go to the library, they tend to have less security. How long are you on patrol here? Can I leave and come back?”

“Yeah, I can stick around.”

The room has a window, which means he can just slide through the wall and out of the building. “Doesn’t this suck with your day job?” he asks. “Late nights?”

“Can you afford to not have a day job?”

“I work from home,” he lies. “And I don’t have a night job, remember? I just do what I want.”

“Brag about it. I see you,” she adds.

“Huh, didn’t know you were on this side of the building.” He finds her, floating in the sky. “Are you strong enough to carry me?”

“Nope.”

“Then I’ll see you soon.”

He takes his bike over to the library and makes copies the old-fashioned way, with the ancient copy machine that doesn’t keep any records. It’s too late by the time he’s getting back to Polaris, but Bioshock is still there, sitting on the roof, waiting. He gives her the copy and returns the file, and suddenly realizes that this might be it.

He might have done all she needs him to do.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Sure.” He looks her up and down. “Can I trust you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to see how this goes,” he admits. “But I don’t know if I want to give you my number.”

That makes her laugh. “You know where to find me.”

“Just until you break your roommate out of this and drop off the map.”

“I’ll leave you a note.”

“You might need help,” he says.

“And you want to help me?”

Before this, Bellamy knew a few things about Bioshock. She’s only ever worked with Ark, not Tempest or any of the right-wing, conservative super agencies. When she talks about super affairs, she’s fair and thoughtful. She’s put some villains behind bars, but they’ve been ones he considers bad, the ones who hurt people, not just independent thieves like him.

And she came to him, and she trusted him. That means something too.

“I do, yeah.”

“Then it kind of sounds like you trust me,” she says, and he has to smile.

“I guess so. So, uh, I’m Bellamy. If you roommate’s home, do you want to come back to my place to look at that?”

She smiles. “That would be great, yeah.”

*

It’s not exactly an easy project, but it turns out the two of them are a good team. Clarke brings in a rogue corporate she knows named Monty, who fills the very important role of actually knowing something about technology, and between Clarke’s access to Polaris, Bellamy’s access to everything, and Monty’s hacking abilities, they manage to figure out what Polaris was trying to do (some kind of creepy mind control), how to get Raven out of it (incomprehensible technology), and how to get them all to somewhere new (Bellamy’s friend Miller’s place in Seattle) with new identities.

Which is actually kind of awkward.

“How did you get involved in this again?” Raven asks him. She’s still a little hazy, in the memories. “Like–where did you come from?”

“I actually don’t know,” he admits, looking to Clarke. “Why did you ask me?”

Her neck goes a little pink, but her expression stays neutral. “I found a list of villains and picked one who’d never killed anyone or made any decisions I disagreed with.”

“Romantic,” says Raven, and Clarke’s neck goes pinker. “What was your code name again?”

“Umbra,” Monty supplies.

“Oh,” says Raven. “Now I’ve got it.”

Bellamy wants to press, but there’s no way Clarke’s going to talk about it with everyone else around. So he waits until Monty and Raven go off to do their own thing before settling next to her. “So, why did you really pick me?”

“Hm?”

“Clarke,” he says, nudging her shoulder. “Come on.”

She catches her lip in her teeth, looking over at him with a somewhat shy smile. “I liked you.”

“Liked me?”

“Fair fights, the few times we had them. Good statements, when you made public statements. Great ass,” she admits, and he laughs.

“You liked me,” he teases, and she glares.

“Shut up.”

He leans closer, feeling a smile growing on his face. He’d been hoping, honestly. “Do you still like me?”

In lieu of answering, she fists her hand in his shirt, pulling him in, and he’s still smiling when she kisses him.

“You’re my favorite super,” she tells him, and he bumps his nose against hers.

“Right back at you.”

[hardladyheart]

Tragedy (Steve Rogers x Reader)

You were nothing special, just a plain female that grew up in one of the burrows of New York and never left. That was, until the aliens showed up.

During that time, you were working in an art gallery. You weren't creating them, you didn't have that talent, you just placed them on the walls. Your mother owned the gallery so you were just a lifter when she didn't want to get her hands dirty.

You remember your mother screaming about all of the art that needed to get taken out before the place collapsed. She didn't care about you, just the art, so you did your best to please her. Heaving one of the bigger paintings over your head, you slowly made your way to the closest exit. A beam fell in front of you, blocking your path.

"Sweetie, hand me the painting," your mother said to you, holding out her hands to take it from you.

You almost cried at how she acted, but you held it in. The building could collapse at any moment, now wasn't the time to cry. You yelped as a hand grabbed your waist and pulled you through a newly made hole in the wall.

The alley you were pulled in was filled with smoke and soot, that was where your hero put you down. The man was blond, blue eyed, tall, handsome, and in spandex... weird.

"Are you alright," he asked, bending down to take a closer look at you.

"Physically, yeah. Thanks, for saving me."

"I'm not done just yet." Your hero grabbed your wrist and pulled you to where your mother stood, admiring the picture in her hands. "Ma'am, the next time you want to sacrifice something, let it be the painting, not your pretty daughter." The man walked away, mumbling abot how he couldn't believe he just did that.

You rushed towards him, yelling, "Wait, sir, who are you?"

He stopped and faced you with a smile. "I'm Captain America."

After that, you left home and began working somewhere else. That was when you met the Captain again and found out his name was Steve. The shoppe you worked at became his frequent lunch spot. You even got to meet the rest of the Avengers, including the flirtatious Tony Stark. You met him only once, though, you weren't sure why but thought a certain Captain might have had something to do with it.

Eventually, Steve finally asked you to be his girl and, of course, you agreed. You two were practically joined at the hip, you even slept in the same bed. Clothes were required and it took you ages to convince him you weren't going to fondue.

During this period of time, your mother tried to get a hold of you, but to no avail. You never answered the phone or door and if Steve was home he did it for you.

Here you were, sitting on the couch, controller in hand as you flipped through the stations. You sighed, gazing at the front door, longingly, waiting for him to come home. The door opened and you got to your feet, running to him.

Steve caught you in his arms, kissing you over and over before he set you down. "We need to talk and I think it's best if you sit down."

The words chilled you to the bone and all happiness that you just had, vanished. You sat back down on the couch while he sat on the coffee table. So many thoughts swam in your mind as to what was so serious.

Steve took your hands in his, looking down. "I need to tell you something. Fury wants me to move closer to one of the bases. Says I'm needed there in case of an emergency. I can't tell him no, so I'll be leaving at the end of the week."

Your face drooped, but you willed yourself to not cry. "I can't come with you, can I?"

"No, I can't bring anyone with me except for my future wife." Steve went silent, waiting for everything to register.

Your head shot up, your jaw dropped in shock. It took you a few moments before you spoke, "Steven Rogers, are you asking me to marry you?"

He nodded, placing a hand in his pocket and pulled out a small, black box. opening it to show a ring. "Will you marry me?"

You hugged him roughly, causing both of you to land on the floor. "Yes, Steve." You repeated the words until he placed the ring on your finger and kissed you.

Who knew that such a tragedy could cause the best thing to ever happen to you?

~~~~~~~~

The smell of breakfast covered the house as you fixed it for your husband. He had work soon and you wanted to make sure he went on a full stomach. You hummed a favorite song as you set the plate of food down, grinning at the feeling of Steve's arms around your middle. He placed a kiss on your shoulder before sitting down, praying, and then devouring his meal.

You had been married for three years and they were the best years of your life. You had a simple wedding, much to the disappointment of Tony, and it was just the way both of you had wanted. The only people to show were a couple of friends you made after your move and the team from S.H.I.E.D. Natasha was the one that caught the bouquet which surprised everyone.

"Have a nice day at work," you said to Steve, giving him a peck on the lips.

"Where do you think you're going?" He took you by the hand and pulled you to him, planting a loving kiss on your mouth.

"I love you, Cap."

Steve smiled, kissing your forehead. "I love you too, hun. See you when I get home."

"I'll be waiting," you said with a smile before he walked out and you closed the door behind him. You grabbed the dirty dishes and washed them, sticking them in the dish drainer.

You occupied yourself during the day by going grocery shopping and coming home to do a couple of chores. Thankfully, after you were married, Fury gave Steve a raise as a wedding present which meant you didn't have to work anymore.

The home you shared was one that the agency had picked out, but it was so much to Steve's taste that you couldn't help but love it. A classic American home on a classic American street where Steve had no memories of being beat up.

That was also part of your breakfast plan, his past. It was getting closer to the day that marked the last of when Steve saw his friends in 1942. He was only twenty-four, but it was something he would never be able to forget. So you helped him through it, even when he mentioned Peggy Carter. Steve had also told you about her, and you knew that he still cared about her, but not the way he felt about you.

When everything you could think of was done, you sat down and picked up a book, knowing that your husband was in for a surprise when he got home. You couldn't help but hug the book to your chest, thinking of how the love of your life held it before he handed it to you. You shook your head at your schoolgirl antics and began to read.

The hours seemed to fly by and before you knew it, it was time to get in the kitchen. Placing the book down, you headed into the kitchen and began preparing the food. While you were working, Steve came home and called out for you.

"In here, Steve," you said, placing pots on the stove and a couple of steaks in the oven.

The blond entered the room only to be tackled by you in a hug. Steve chuckled and held you, giving you a soft kiss. "How was your day?"

"Could have been better," you told him, laying your head on his chest.

"How so?" Cap's fingers ran through your hair in a calming gesture.

You looked up at him with a smile. "You weren't here. Now go take your shower so we can eat." He gave you one last peck before he did as he was told.

Steve sat at the table, waiting for the finishing touches of the food. You smiled and set a plate down in front of him before doing so for yourself. The man said grace and was just about to pop a piece of steak into his mouth when you stopped him.

"What is it, dear?" He looked at you curiously.

"I gave you the wrong plate, this steak is too big. Here, let me switch them." Steve looked confused but said nothing as you switched them.

When Steve looked down to catch a pea, his eyes grew wide at what was there. Each green pea helped to form 'I'm pregnant.' His fork clattered to the plate before he stood up and grabbed you, spinning you around. "We're really having a baby?"

You giggled and kissed him. "Yes, Steve, you're going to be a father."

Even though it was close to the day that Steve considered a tragedy, this great news would replace it.