#miranda cleaves

[doctorfriend79]

The Almost People

[heathtrash]

i made some new ringtones recently!

there's just something so funny about 98 Mildred saying "EXTREME" so that had to be one!

i was rewatching raquel's doctor who episodes and the "singing campfire songs" line came up and it made me lose my mind. miranda cleaves pls

also almost every constance line is quotable but i thought this worked so well

they are all uploaded to the tww ringtones folder for android and iphone - feel free to listen and download any you like!

(when discord starts letting us have audio clips in voice chat, you can bet i'm going to put all these in our tww discord server!)

[doctorwhogirlie]

Doctor Who: The Rebel Flesh

Series Six ✨ 2011 ✨

Doctor: 11th

Companions: Amy & Rory

Main Setting: St John's Monastery, the 22nd century

Main Enemy: Miranda Cleaves

Creatures: Gangers

My Personal Rating: 2/10

The Eleventh Doctor, Amy Pond and Rory Williams visit an acid-mining factory. A solar storm hits the factory, turning the workers' gangers into self-aware individuals. The Doctor must mediate between the original workers and their rebellious gangers. Source

I really don't like this story. I never have, and I'm struggling to write anything good about it, because that's just it. I don't like this story.

(Please don't take these too seriously, I am not a real life reviewer, just someone who likes the show)

[mxquill]

back from my 4 year slumber to announce that i am back on the raquel cassidy please marry me train x

(also like.... what if i wrote miranda cleaves selfcest? a little bit of miranda cleaves selfcest, anyone?)

[mekanikaltrifle]

How do the hunters' edges manifest?

I'm mostly asking for the lieutenant but I'm curious about the others

Because the three main vaguely-protagonistic hunters largely play a secondary role to the newbie hunters in my game I haven't spent a lot of time in-game describing their abilities when they fire off. Likewise the players have not actively seen Andrea use any edges at all, she's just been attacking them fully human mode 100%. Man they don't even know what edges she possibly has let alone what they look like.

When they do turn up tho I'll make sure to add to this whole fucking essay. However, there have been a few showed so far. This is gonna get long and will have screenshots for those who want to know but don't know HtR off by heart :D So it's under a readmore! Prepare for Hunter essay!

Leo (Avenger guy) has used his the most, with Cleave (level 1 Vengeance) manifesting in the blink-speed summoning of a longsword at will, which he's taught to Miranda (the newbie Avenger). She manifests a woodsman's axe instead though.

When he's not just flicking his hands and appearing a goddamn sword from the aether, Cleave manifests on existing weapons as a furious, sparking plasmic flame that cracks and melts the material in his hands within a single fight. It has an acrid, sharp sort of quasi-smell (I like to imagine the unreal nature of Edges means the 'smell' associated with invoking them isn't truly real... but has an effect a little like the smell of oncoming lightning) and feels a bit like the heat haze from a too-hot road surface.

His second most-common Edge is the level-3 Vengeance power Smoulder. With this, I think he's taken some inspiration from Cody's level-3 Edge (which I will cover shortly), as he actively breathes a cloud of black smoke like a coal fire, and him being dramatic it's usually accompanied by throwing his head back as he does so, quickly disappearing unless you're an imbued with Second Sight on. Good luck seeing or sensing through it as a supernatural creature! It has the same crackling, energetic feel to walk through as his Cleave fire produces and 'smells' like burning metal and industrial fire; wholly manmade and very strange.

he does have other edges but he's most attached to those two. Trail (level 2 Vengeance) manifests as a rippling, hovering sort of deep grey smoketrail like the sort let out by flares as they arc through the sky. The edges of the smoke have a flickering, lit-from-within look to them as if they are in fact trailing some unseeable flaming matter, and he can pick that glitter up through crowds and into the dark wherever the monster he's tagged is going. Watch out!

Cody meanwhile mostly finds use in his level-3 edge Respire, because fuck me do those fuckers get hurt a lot and it's suprisingly helpful as a weapon too-- mostly for the scare factor, but also the benefits to his allies.

His healing is quick and quiet, and so is the harm he can inflict, and strangely he can turn the healing portion of the twofold power onto his allies by breathing over the surface wounds rather than having to go full CPR every time... though if the damage is severe, internal or actively killing his ally, he still has to breathe into them as the book describes Respire working. And yknow, it's easy to joke that he heals you by kissing you. Maybe he does. Ask Leo about that one. Or don't! He's saying nothing. Does this mean he's kissed Juniper at some point? Well yknow who knows? She's not fussed. When he uses the harmful half of Respire on monsters, they take damage as described (one lethal per success. fucking insane), and it looks as if they're cracking and drying from within, vampires feeling themselves shift and break as their blood dries up, ghosts losing the emotions that keep them operating, their literal pathos. It's a disturbing weapon, and in order to heal the living he uses it very regularly. Of course, if you're a monster that gives up your energy willingly to help someone it will hurt all the same as if he steals it from you, but it's the intent that counts. Be careful kissing that guy.

his second-most used power is Insinuate, for the way it helps to stall and realign a monster's way of thinking. Thankfully many beasts are already penitent enough to do things the normal way and he doesn't have to shackle them emotionally like this.

But yknow, sometimes you're menacing this friendly looking midwestern whiteboy in a flannel shirt, and he looks at you honestly with his weird icy eyes and he asks you if it all hurts. All the fighting and the blood. If you're tired. Don't you want to sit down?

And maybe, you realise, in your monstrous heart of hearts that you are tired. Sure you lash out, but you've been hamstringed. The wind's gone from your sails. Breathing, or pretending to, gets a bit harder. He doesn't look like he did anything, nobody could see a thing going on between you, but fuck me does it all hurt a bit more.

And last but not least, Juniper. She uses most of her Edges the least, and generally just punches the shit out of things as expected. However, her most common combat Edge is the level-2 Judgment Edge Burden:

This one is incredibly subtle when she uses it, from a visual perspective. However any imbued or monsters in the vicinity when she autistically stares a monster into mystic immobility will feel a shift in the pressure in the air, as if gravity has just gotten a grade heavier. They can still move fine, but the monster(s) can't, and they understand for a moment that it is undeniably the Judge's gaze that has frozen them; panic might ensue shortly afterward. Survivors note a feeling of dread, and compression in their skin as if an invisible hand is slowly but surely crushing them.

her next-most used power is the simple level-1 Edge Discern!

This one is the one she's used the longest, unsurprisingly and it is incredibly helpful for the fact it gives her straight up unconditional darkvision and full sight even with eye damage.

When she's using this, the odd halo-light that seems to always hang in her eyes brightens a little, and she clearly focuses on whatever or whoever is nearby even in total blackness. At least one monster has had the unfortunate realisation that the tied-up girl with the burlap sack over her head is staring right at them... The power in action also supernaturally draws imbued attention to her stare if they know she's using it, but not so much it's really truly disrupting or immediately gives away her position. More like you know you're being watched. And watched, you are. You can feel it glossing over your skin, knowing you in a way you've always tried to hide.

Additionally, I have it that her long, long use of Discern and Burden has left her with the odd trait that she doesn't blink often enough and it does her no harm. Don't try to win a staring contest with her, you'll only end up with watering eyes.

She has others she uses, especially the alternate level 1 power that lets her stay up way too fucking long without sleeping, but that's generally handled more as a passive roleplaying element in-game and I haven't given that a special look. Also it's mostly just her being a sleep deprived weirdo. Where does the Edge end and the neurosis begin? :D

[royalreef]

Her hands keep pressing over the front of her sundress — the gap where the collar rounds the bottom of her neck and loops over her back while leaving her front free, the fabric meeting again below her shoulders and near the bottom half of her ribcage, so as to leave her arms with range to move.

One hand sits over the bottom of her neck, the last place where Miranda can feel herself breathe. She moves it, both meeting together in the space between her arms, narrow and thin and defined by the two groups of muscle that cleave the space in half to join back up with her arms, strengthen their grip. She flattens her arm-fins to the space where it trails down and towards her stomach, sticks to them like sheets of fabric in their own right, shifts again when the space between the two grows uncomfortable and warm and strange again.

Her dreams bothered her last night. That's not so unusual, really. Miranda often has dreams, and seldom are they anything she'd want to speak about, this back and forth familiar and well-practiced to her by now.

Still. It's an unpleasant experience, time and time again. Try as she might, it's not really the kind of thing that you can get used to. Even wearing her bottom-opening sundress was a compromise, because wearing the top-opening one was unthinkable.

[gobboguy]

Chapter 42: A Mother Lost

Days later, Ionia awoke in the darkness, her body stiff from the cold stone floor beneath her. Beside her, Gramherth Rock sat cross-legged, lost in meditation. They had chosen to forego the comforts of furniture, opting instead for the spartan simplicity of a bare room, a gesture intended to demonstrate the austere lifestyle of the Swordmasters to Seraphina.

A chilling scream shattered the silence, its female pitch laden with terror and desperation. Ionia sprung to her feet, her hand instinctively reaching for the Relic Sword of Miranda, while Gramherth rose in unison. For days, they had scoured the corridors of Castle Berton in search of magic or any indication as to why the Spinner Glass had detected it on Brer, Lothor, and Seraphina. But to no avail, they had found nothing. Now, it seemed, to be that their failure had resulted in something horrible happening.

Without hesitation, Ionia and Gramherth rushed into the castle's labyrinthine hallways, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls as they raced towards the source of the scream. Dread grips Ionia as she realized the chilling sound originated from the direction of her mother's royal quarters.

Ionia's momentum carried her through the shattered remnants of the royal bedroom's doors with a flying kick, her heart hammering in her chest as she took in the scene before her. The room was cast in an eerie half-light, illuminated by the fading glow of the fireplace's dying embers. Ornate furnishings adorned the space, from intricately carved wooden bedposts to velvet draperies cascading from the tall windows.

Her gaze darted to the bed, where a figure lay prone, bathed in shadows. Seraphina's body lay motionless, a tableau of violence etched upon her form with each stab wound a testament to the brutality of the attack. Ionia's breath caught in her throat as she took in the grim sight, her mind struggling to comprehend the reality of her mother's impending demise.

Beside the bed stood a goblin, its loincloth stained with blood, a grotesque contrast to the opulence of the royal chamber. In its grasp gleamed a bloodied knife, poised menacingly over Brer Crestford, who cowered before the creature in a futile attempt at self-preservation. The air hung heavy with tension as the goblin's malevolent presence filled the room, its gaze fixed upon its trembling prey. Nearby, a darkened doorway yawned open, offering a glimpse into the abyss beyond, where the lurking forms of more goblins lurked, their sinister intentions shrouded in darkness.

The goblin, brandishing the bloodied knife, let out a guttural scream in its native tongue, its voice a discordant symphony of rage and triumph.

Gramherth, swift as a striking serpent, bypassed Ionia with a deft leap, his sword cleaving through the air and severing the goblin's head from its shoulders in a swift, precise motion. Wheeling around, he engaged the remaining goblins at the doorway, his blade dancing with deadly grace as he dispatched them one by one with calculated strikes. With each swing, the goblins fell, their lifeless bodies crumpling to the floor.

After ensuring the immediate threat was eliminated, Gramherth swiftly fashioned a makeshift torch from nearby furniture and fabric, illuminating the dark passage beyond. With determined steps, he ventured into the unknown depths, his figure disappearing into the shadows as he sought answers in the mysterious tunnel.

Meanwhile, Ionia, her heart heavy with grief, approached her fallen mother's side. Seraphina lay motionless on the bed, her once regal form now limp and lifeless. The room was filled with an eerie stillness, broken only by the flickering light of the dying embers in the fireplace, casting haunting shadows across Seraphina's pale, lifeless features.

Brer stuttered as he recounted how the wall had opened up into a secret corridor, unleashing a horde of goblins upon Seraphina. "I awoke just as the door creaked open," Brer recounted, "and before I could react, the goblins leaped forth from the shadows. One of them plunged its knife into Seraphina's back as she stirred from her slumber...they… they almost killed me," he admitted, his voice tense with urgency. Turning to Ionia, he implored her assistance, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation.

Tears streaming down her face, Ionia clasped her mother's bloodied hand tightly, her voice choked with emotion. "Please, Mother," she pleaded, her words trembling with anguish, "forgive me. Open your eyes, please. Don't leave me like this." Her heart heavy with sorrow, she awaited any sign of life from her mother, desperate for a glimmer of hope in the midst of tragedy.

Breathless from his exploration, Gramherth emerged from the tunnel, his voice echoing with urgency as he relayed his findings. "The tunnel leads outside to the castle walls," he explained, his tone grave. "This is likely how the greenskins infiltrated. They must have found a way into the city proper." His eyes narrowed with determination as he continued, "We must venture out and eradicate the source of this infestation before it spreads further."

Gramherth's gaze fell upon Ionia, his expression stern as he placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Control your emotions, Ionia," he admonished, his voice tinged with disappointment. "As Swordmasters, we are not slaves to our feelings. You must learn to maintain composure, even in the face of tragedy." His words carried the weight of authority, urging her to embrace the discipline of their order.

Ionia's anger flared at Gramherth's apparent coldness, her voice sharp as she retorted, "How can you be so callous, Gramherth? My mother lies dead, and you speak of discipline?" Her frustration was palpable, her emotions raw in the wake of tragedy. Gramherth met her gaze with a steady intensity, his tone firm yet unwavering. "As a Swordmaster, you must uphold the principles of our order," he reminded her, his words carrying the weight of their training. "Now, more than ever, you must remember your training and act accordingly."

As Ionia's hand clenched into a fist, ready to lash out at Gramherth's stern reprimand, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted their tense exchange. Lothor burst into the room, his expression one of shock and disbelief as his gaze fell upon the lifeless form of Seraphina. Without a moment's hesitation, Gramherth issued swift commands to Lothor, his voice commanding and urgent. "Send out your guards immediately," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We must uncover where these goblins originated from before more lives are lost."

[strawp]

We read, “The Tempest”, in World Literature class and this was originally an assignment my teacher gave us.

We were to create our own alternate ending on what we think should have happened.

I spent a whole ass week on this bitch and poured my HEART and SOUL into it. It came out to ten pages in google docs. I’ll be damned if only my teacher sees this.

———————————————————————

Let’s Pluck the Petals, One by One

( Exit FERDINAND and MIRANDA )

Once my daughter and Ferdinand left to go inside the cell, I turned around to briskly put some distance between us. Once sure that no one was around nor would hear me, I quietly called out for my most diligent servant.

“Come with a thought, I thank thee, Ariel: Come,” I muttered. I waited patiently for the subtle change in the air, signifying Ariel’s presence. Not a moment later, a semi-transparent figure appeared before me.

“Thy thoughts I cleave to. What’s thy pleasure?” Ariel had said in their raspy voice.

“Spirit, we must prepare for Caliban’s entrance. Where is it that you said you left them?”

“I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking. I left them in the filthy mantled pool beyond your cell.” They answered. I had to strain my hearing to catch what they said. Air spirits like Ariel are known for their drifting voices, so subtle you’ll wonder if someone was actually there. But just like the wind, their voices can be thunderous and strike as sharp as a whip.

“Well done, my bird,” I whisper. With that, Ariel vanished or perhaps they are still there. I never know. But that matter’s naught for soon, my long-awaited revenge will be set into place.

“I will plague them all,” I promise. I gaze upon the seamless blue sky, only looking away when I hear the quiet shuffle of several feet. I cloak myself in invisibility and wait for what will undoubtedly be the stealth mission of three incompetent cows.

“Tread carefully, we’re in his territory now,” Caliban warns. All three are soaked to the bone and stink to the high heavens.

“Monster, everything smells like horse-piss. I smell like horse piss! My nose would like compensation.” One of the bumbling idiots remarked, face scrunched in great displeasure. He had short brown hair and walked with a slight hunch. His hands cycled through different fidgets, from twiddling his thumbs to swinging them. Other than his short stature, there was nothing to write home about.

“I second that. You hear me, Monster?” Nitwit number three added. This fellow was taller than the other twit with a bit of a gut hanging out, surely due to his relationship with alcohol. From what Ariel had told me, this one planned to kill me, take possession of this island, and marry my daughter. Hah!-What a ludicrous dream!

What he said seemed to have struck a chord in that deformed slave of mine’s head as they stopped entirely to look back at number three.

“My lord, please place trust in me. Be patient for the prize shall make this worth it,” Caliban practically begged. It seems they’ve found a new master. No matter, if all goes to plan I won’t need them anymore.

“Fine. But to lose our bottles in the pool–” started Short-stack.

“Is disgraceful and dishonorable, Monster. An infinite loss on our end” finished the alcoholic. Both crossed their arms and sported disgruntled expressions. To be so affected by the mere loss of a beverage is pathetic.

“Quiet!” Whisper-yelled Caliban. “We are at the mouth of his cell now: speak none and enter.”

I rolled my eyes. “Too little, too late,” I thought. This is the most pitiful assassination attempt I have ever seen.

“If we succeed, this island will be ours forever,” Caliban boldly claimed.

“This, ‘Prospero’, won’t know what hit him,” the drunkard smirked. Like anyone would ever feel threatened by that.

They only managed to take two steps each before Ariel and I intercepted them. Ariel sent ferocious winds their way, strong enough for them to stumble, while I manipulated the very ground they stood on into something unstable. While they were preoccupied with the elements, I directed some of the surrounding animals towards them. Once they spotted the army of animals coming their way, they scrambled, tripping over one another in their haste. They were utterly clueless as to what was happening.

“We shall let the animals hunt them for now. Soon my labors will come to an end and you will be free,” I inform Ariel. I turn to them, now opaque enough for me to see them. “Say, my spirit, what is the state of the king and his followers?”

“They are the same as you left them,”

“Go release them. I will break the charms and restore their senses,”

“I’ll go fetch them, sir”

With that, I turn around to begin the process of making the magic circle with my staff. I draw one large circle big enough to fit four grown men and add a liner that is three inches inside the circle. Next, I carved out an upside-down isosceles triangle with an eye in the center. Between the inner and outer circles, I scrawl out the necessary runes to cast my spell. Once done, I stand back to begin the chant.

“U have bedimm’d the noontide sun, call’d forth the miltinous winds, and ‘twixt the green sea. And the azured vault set roaring war by my so potent art. But this rough magic I here abjure, and, when I have required some heavenly music, which even now I do. To work mine end upon their senses that this airy charm is for, I’ll break my staff.”

Not a second later, Ariel reappears with my captives: Alonso, Gonzalo, Sebastian, and Antonio. They stand frozen in the magic circle, dazed and confused. Finally, the time has come. Still under invisibility, I stand before all of them and lock eyes with Gonzalo, even if he does not know that.

“Good Gonzalo, my true preserver, I will pay back with my word and deed.” He was the only one to show me compassion and aided me in my escape from the mainland. He is a better man than anyone on this island.

I move on with distaste to Alonso, a grimace set. “Most cruel of you to use me and my daughter; your brother even more foul in action.” This is the wretched man who officiated my exile from so long ago yet so clear in my mind. Never will I grace him the respect I once held for him.

For Alonso’s brother, I greet him with disdain and repulsion to what he has become. “Your existence has deteriorated since we last saw each other, Sebastian.” Arguably the worst of the two siblings. His life was set, having been born into royalty, but he greedily wanted more than what was handed to him.

Finally, I face my brother. Merely looking at him fills me with a spiral of emotions, circulating between resentment and betrayal. I pointedly ignore the bitterness that bubbles in my throat like acid. He has shown what he thinks of me and I have no obligation towards him.

“Brother of mine, through flesh and blood, you and Sebastian sought out to commit a dastardly plan for your benefit.” And with that, I finally reveal myself. Once spotting my face, Antonio and Alonso go pale in the face, though the former flinches back as well. Sebastian lets out a gasp while Gonzalo widens his eyes tenfold.

“I am not sure if I am under an enchantment or not but I fear madness has taken over me! The duke I had resigned all those years ago, Prospero, stands before me! How is it that you are alive and before us now?” Alonso exclaims. I raise one eyebrow at his reaction before turning to Gonzalo.

“Gonzalo, my noble friend, let me embrace you for the help you gave me. Your honor cannot be measured for there are no bounds to it.” Gonzalo’s eyes have since returned to their natural size and he gives me a tiny smile.

“Whether this is real or not, my actions are not worthy of such high praise.” He responds. Always the humble man I see, even after all this time. A stray thought of what if he was our king instead of our current one pops up before I push it aside. What has been done cannot be undone after all.

With a snap of my fingers, I send a message via magic to Antonio and Sebastian. “I know.” Just those two simple words had them stricken with terror, blood seemingly no longer circulating in their faces from how white they had gotten. “I can tell His Highness of your attempted treason at any given moment.” I sneer. It’s truly entertaining to see them sweat like pigs under my power. I end my message there, not merciful enough to give them closure of my decision.

“THE DEVIL! The Devil has come before us in the body of Prospero to haunt us for our sins!” Sebastion wails. I scoff and roll my eyes. As if The Devil would bother with the likes of them.

“I can assure you I am not such,” I say.

“How? How is it that you stand before us?” Alonso persists.

I finally turn to look at him, looking deep into his still-widened eyes. “My daughter and I have resided here for years, ever since that fateful day you cast me out.” I keep my face as neutral as possible as I respond, giving no inch of emotion. We lock into a staring contest until Alonso looks down, shame is written on his face, shame that I relish in before his eyebrows shoot up.

“Have you seen my son? Earlier, our boat was wrecked by a sea storm, and my son, Ferdinand, has been missing since! He has short brown hair, a little bit taller than myself, and was wearing a purple tunic.” He exclaims in desperation.

Bull’s eye. I tilt my head and look to the corner of my vision, caressing my chin in fake contemplation.

“I do believe so.”

“Is that true? This is a miracle-”

“But whoever said I will return him to you?”

Alonso stops in his tracks, taken aback.

“Pardon?” he says, not believing his ears.

“Whoever said I will return him to you?”

“But why? Why are you doing this? Have you no morals to keep a man’s son from his father!”

“Tell me why I should return the man who exiled me’s son?” I place my arms behind my back and go through a series of hand signals, telling Ariel to bring over Miranda and Ferdinand.

The hope from hearing my confirmation was just as quickly snuffed out, my response leaving him in a state of shock. I know Antonio and Sebastian would not dare speak so that only Gonzalo was left. I turned to look at him once more, daring him to say anything. Gonzalo’s eyebrows creased in deep thought, taking one more look at my face, and he must have found something because he backed down. Finally, I turn back to Alonso, ready to give him a piece of my mind.

“You aided Antonio in usurping my title. Not only did you unfairly strip me of my position but had also exiled me from my home. You cast not only I but my daughter out as well, who had nothing to do with anything except for sharing my blood.”

Alonso looked like he wanted to say something, but I did not give him the chance. No longer will I be silenced. I grab him by the collar and get close to his face.

“For twelve years, I have lived on this island. For twelve years, I have kept my daughter in the dark. FOR TWELVE YEARS, I have pondered on why you did what you did. SO WHY? WHY DID YOU BETRAY ME?” I screamed the last bit.

Yet, all he seems to be able to do is stare wide-eyed at me, as though a deer caught by surprise. He opens his mouth but only a weak strangled noise comes out. With that, I let go of him. He falls ungracefully on his arse with a face as pale as paper and sweat absolutely oozing off of him. It’s as though his brain has completely shut off.

What a pathetic excuse of a man, let alone a king.

I bring my attention back to the other three men. After seeing what I did to Alonso; Antonio and Sebastian both take steps back while Gonzalo looks on with an unreadable expression. Just then, Miranda and Ferdinand appear, hand-in-hand. Ferdinand, once spotting his father, hurries over to him and kneels down to cup his father’s face in his hands.

“Father? Why are you sitting on the ground?” He asks in concern. For now, I’ll stand to the side, no point intervening when they’ve already seen each other.

“Son…?” Alonso whispers, voice soft and unsure. “Are you really real?”

“Of course I am real! Did the tempest damage your head when you went under? Do you need medical attention?” Ferdinand worried. Alonso’s bottom lip trembled before he engulfed his son in a tight hug.

“Do not worry for your old man, I’m just so glad you’re alright! When I woke up and you were nowhere in sight, I looked for you for hours but couldn’t find you! I-I really thought you had died!” They sat there on the dirty floor, huddled together in a hug filled with tears and disgusting snot.

Wow. How sad.

Suddenly, this emotional(awkward) moment was broken when Ferdinand jumped back from Alonso’s arms, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Interesting.

“Oh goodness! I nearly forgot!”

“What? What is it?” A severely dumbfounded Alonso asked.

Ferdinand hurried over to us and took Miranda’s hand, practically dragging her over to his father.

“Father, I have found my soulmate! my Juliet! my apple-of-my-eye, my sweetheart, my darling, my dearest, my snuggles, my treasure, my sweetie, my-”

“YES, YES! I understand! This is amazing, who is this young lady?”

“Her name is Miranda and she is the daughter of the Duke of Miland, Prospero,” He cheerfully announced.

The amount of time it took, or the lack of it, for Alonso’s face to drop from a proud smile to mortification was absolutely hilarious. I pride myself on my poker face but there was no way I could wipe off the laughter wiggling on my lips.

“Oh…that’s great, son,” He said in a perplexed tone.

“Our time together has been the utmost joyous! Her laugh is like church bells chiming, her smile as blinding as the sun. She is a worthy chess opponent with a beautiful mind. She’s sweeter than honey but as stubborn as a mule. Isn’t she just perfect?”

Alonso has sucked in his bottom lip and a tight smile graces his aged face but he nods his head yes anyways.

“It was love at first sight, I just knew we would get along! Father, I wish to marry this girl.”

And there we go. Alonso has receded into his neck, strained smile still present, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and still nodding away.

“I’m so glad you approve, Dad!”

Well, it’s only natural. There was no other choice, not with me sending him telepathically promises of death via eye contact. At this point, I couldn't care less if I was given a high position due to my daughter’s marriage. Just the thought that I will forever be a thorn in Alonso’s side brings me pure delight-

A knife comes flying at me from behind, grazing my cheek but otherwise, misses. Adrenaline courses through my body and I quickly turn around. I step to the side mere seconds before a hulking figure pounces where I once was.

It’s Caliban.

Rid of his trench cloak, his grotesque figure is bared for all to see. Along his spine protrudes spikes. Scales meld with his skin atop of his forearms and the sides of his neck. Sharp points junt out of his elbows. Fingertips end in sharp talons but no nails. His legs are bent like that of a dragon’s hind legs but instead of toes, he has three webbed claws. His body, defined yet gaunt at the same time, limbs too bony in places to be natural.

He stands from his pounce, coming to his full height of seven feet. He turns around and the first thing I see are his too-sharp teeth and prominent bottom fangs. Around his eyes are more scales and his once white sclera has glossed over with black. His hair, normally flat and greasy, is pricked up like a lion’s mane. He lets out a low growl and his face is pinched in rage, eyes piercing right into my soul. I feel a full body shiver and cold sweat slides down my face.

He lunges towards me once more with great speed, hand outstretched to no doubt maul my face. Were I less experienced, I would have surely died. But I’m not. Just as Caliban gets mere inches away from my face, chains emerge from the ground to restrain his arms and neck. He kicks out his foot in a last ditch attempt to wound me but I step just out of reach. With his mobility compromised, he is powerless.

“Caliban…what is the meaning of this?”

“By God’s blood will I have your head!” He snarls.

“A claw mark for each breath, a bite for every material you’ve used, a burn for every cruel command, and broken bones for every year you’ve occupied MY island!” He roared, fiercely pulling against the restraints.

“Tch,” With a snap of my fingers, I create a muzzle and fix it onto his face with magic. No way would I come close to him in this state.

“I care naught for your feelings but if you must know, I won’t be on this island for much longer,” I say. I slide my eyes over to Alonso and with quick steps, I take his hands into mine.

“Alonso, isn’t it joyous that out children have found love with one another?” I tell him with a sickly sweet smile. I raise a finger to my cheek, “This is Miranda’s first love, she has never before been so enraptured in another individual.” I remark.

I peer down at him, “Despite our conflict, I do not believe that our children should be weighed down by our differences.” I grit out. “Why don’t we call a truce so that our dearest children may be happy, mh?”

“I-” I send him my most venomous glare, daring him to rebuke.

“But of course! Anything for Ferdinand’s beloved!” He desperately shouts, looking close to tears.

“Wonderful that you agree. We shall set out tomorrow to go back to the mainland.” I conclude.

“Hold it right there!” Caliban bellows, having chewed right through the muzzle.

“I ain’t just gonna let you walk scott free! I ain’t done with you until you’re a bloody mess on the floor and six feet below!”

“What a pity, that won’t ever happen,” I sing-song.

“That ain’t for you to decide. I won’t rest until-”

I cast a simple sleep spell on him. He drops unconscious as quickly as a fly, the sound of his head hitting the ground resounds in spite of how empty it is.

This whole ordeal has dragged on for so long that the sun has begun to set, our golden ball of heat slowly retreating into the ocean.

“Now, since it is becoming dark, why don’t we retire for the night?” I announce. The other’s agree without complaint so we start setting up camp.

I assign each person a job. Ferdinand and Miranda go to fetch water from my cell. Gonzalo begins making a fire for us, figures he’s the only one to know how to make one from the guests. I instruct Antonio and Sebastian to go fishing for dinner mostly because they are no good for anything else. Alonso and I are left to set up the tents, avoiding one another as much as we can. Once Antonio and Sebastian come back with their catches, I look over them for any signs of poisoning, finding none.

Dinner is a silent affair except for Ferdinand and Miranda who insist on feeding each other. After, we extinguish the fire and settle for bed. I go into the woods to take a leak before slumber. Over time, I have grown used to the night and have developed a sense of awareness of objects.

On the way, I bump into someone. He lets out a small scream and I instantly know who it is.

“Dramatic, much?” I say in a clipped tone. I don’t let him respond before I move past.

Once a good distance away, I press my back against a tree and palm at my racing heart. Everyday for twelve years, he has been on my mind. Everyday for twelve years, I held nothing but resentment.

Except that’s a lie.

A lie that I’ve built up to elude myself of my true feelings of hurt.

I hate him…that much is true. I hate him for what he did to me. I hate him for his betrayal. But I cannot deny the bitterness that floods my mouth with every thought of him. I long for the days of childhood, when we played tag with each other cause we only had each other. I remember the bright-eyed Antonio who looked up to me as his older brother, who begged for a piggy-back ride. I miss my brother, my sweet little brother who gave me half of his cookie to cheer me up.

I hate his betrayal but I always wondered why he did so. Was it out of his own greed for power? Or was it because of me? Was I not good enough? Did something happen to him that I failed to notice? Did I fail him like I failed our parents?

These thoughts were always there but I banished them to the back of my mind, too cowardly to face them. I didn’t want to know the answer and now I’ll never know.

Earlier, I felt powerful seeing the fear in his eyes but now, acid forces its way through my throat. I inflicted that fear. I made him fearful. When we bumped into one another just moments ago, he flinched away.

My little brother is afraid of me.

My hands fly to cover my mouth and my teeth sink down onto my bottom lip to contain my sob. My legs giveaway and I slide flat on my arse, knees pressed close to my chest. My tears slide down my face like a waterfall and my face scrunches in anguish of what I’ve become. I muffle my sobs as best as I can but come to a complete stop when I hear faint footsteps and voices.

“Are you sure about this?”

My eyebrows shoot up. That’s Ferdinand’s voice!

“Yes, yes I am,”

Miranda! But what are they doing at this time? Everyone else should be sleeping.

“I just don’t understand why you are going through with this. Aren’t you at least a little angry at your father for putting a love spell on us?”

My eyes fly open and I stop breathing. When had the spell worn off?!

“No, I don’t.” Miranda spoke softly.

“But how? He manipulated you for his own benefit!”

“That may be true but my love for him outweighs any anger inside me. He tried his all in giving me a normal childhood. He called me his, ‘Little Princess’, and was the best father I could have asked for. So I want to return the favor. I want to make him happy, like he does for me.”

A fresh wave of tears fell at those words spoken so softly by my daughter. Her words break me in a way only a parent could understand.

I wish Miranda wasn’t my daughter. I wish she had a father who loved her unconditionally, who wouldn’t set her under a love spell for their own selfish desire. She deserves more than I am.

If only I was a better father, a better man.

But I’m not.

I sit behind the tree some more, reflecting on the past few years and today. I think of all the pain I caused, all the things I ruined in the name of my revenge. Finally, I stood up having made up my mind.

My reflection had taken the entire night as it seems as the sun began to peak above the ocean. I walk to my cell and retrieve my knife.

One last thing to do.

“My Ariel, chick, to the elements. Be free, and fare thou well! Please you, draw near.” I whisper

And with that, I collapse to my knees.

I breathe in. Once. Twice.

And I pierce the knife into my stomach.

[adventure-showdown]

#i hate hate hate the cgi in Flesh#but miranda cleaves got to me. Also two doctors cool ig#AND the episode leads to one of my faves (that totally isn't a fave mainly for the Paternosters) (@jennyandvastraflint)

What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

ROUND 1 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

The Lodger

Synopsis

A mysterious force blocks the TARDIS — with Amy inside it — from landing, keeping it stuck in a materialisation loop. It's up to the Doctor to work out what that force is, lest Amy be lost forever along with his home/motor. As he investigates, the Doctor learns of a house on Aickman Road, with a staircase which people walk up but never come back down. To solve this mystery, the Doctor must pass himself off as a normal human and share a flat with Craig Owens.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Rebel Flesh/The Almost People

Synopsis

The Eleventh Doctor, Amy Pond and Rory Williams visit an acid-mining factory. A solar storm hits the factory, turning the workers' gangers into self-aware individuals. The Doctor must mediate between the original workers and their rebellious gangers.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Let’s Kill Hitler

Synopsis

In the desperate search for Melody Pond, the TARDIS crash lands in Thirties Berlin, as the time-travelling drama returns for the second half of the series shown earlier in the year. The Doctor comes face to face with the greatest war criminal in the Universe. And Hitler. Old friendships are tested to their limits as the Doctor suffers the ultimate betrayal and learns a harsh lesson in the cruellest warfare of all. As precious time ebbs away, the Doctor must teach his adversaries that time travel has responsibilities. And he must succeed before an almighty price is paid.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Cold War

Synopsis

In 1983, the tensest point of the Cold War, a Soviet submarine discovers a strange creature frozen in the ice of the Arctic. When one of the Firebird's crew breaks it free, it starts attacking. As the crew strikes back, the Eleventh Doctor warns them that the attack could be considered a declaration of war on the entire Ice Warrior race...

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Nightmare in Silver

Synopsis

The Eleventh Doctor takes his companion, Clara Oswald, and her wards, Angie and Artie, to the biggest amusement park in the galaxy, Hedgewick's World of Wonders. However, the theme park is empty, occupied only by a "punishment platoon" and a lone impresario with empty Cyberman shells as exhibits... or so it seems. When the Doctor decides to stay a while to investigate strange insect creatures that are roaming the park, he soon discovers that these insects are really machines seeking to convert the life forms on Hedgewick's World into the newest generation of the ever-upgrading menace...

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

[hydr0phius]

Michelle Gomez, Clare Higgins, Raquel Cassidy, Kate Duchêne 🤝 Being on Doctor Who at some point in some way/also playing witch teachers in charge of chaotic witch children.

[alchemine]

How great would it be if Miranda Cleaves could come back for an episode with the Thirteenth Doctor, though? 

‘I see you’ve changed your face.’ 

‘Yes, well, it happens from time to time. Duck!’

(they dive behind a random packing crate/piece of space equipment and crouch there while things explode)

‘That’s all right. Ever since the gangers, I’ve come to appreciate a bit of variety.’

‘Good to know, now RUN!’ 

[royalreef]

There's a brief pause where Miranda doesn't respond. She doesn't tense, she doesn't tighten. Her eyes are open and startled, but her pupils do not thin, her fins do not press back, her bioluminescence doesn't flare to life.

Miranda's shoulder is covered, like the majority of Miranda's body, in a dense layer of scales. They fit together like stones in a pathway, nestled tight, armor that knits together into a perfect shield against the strains of the world. They buckle beneath Amira's teeth, resisting injury, made for stresses greater than this and blades designed to cleave through flesh as though an idle daydream. The osteoderms connected beneath each one of the scales assist in this, resulting in a strange movement under Miranda's skin, beneath Amira's lips, where they fasten together, bones embedded against the very top of her muscles, to form something solid and firm, redistributing force out over something that feels less like a shoulder and more like a brick wall in of itself.

She tastes like biting into a salt rock, overwhelming, with only a faint aftertaste of fish, or something similar enough.

Miri's still blinking into the air by the time all of this has sunken in. She can feel Amira's teeth on her shoulder, biting into one of the exposed patches of scales, feel the pinpoint of her jaws and her teeth and the grip of Amira's arms, warm and lithe and wrapped around her chest so that she breathes against Amira with every inhale. To bite is to mean something to something like her, something with jaws and scales like Miranda, fully equipped to do what she was designed to do by successive generations stretching back into deep time. To bite is to engage with those meanings, to endure something older than Miranda herself. In a way, this is Miranda's first language, learned when she did not know anything else beyond the blood flowing in her veins.

Miranda does the only thing she knows to do, in such a situation.

Her head swings down, and she sinks her teeth into Amira's shoulder.

In a perfect, crystallized moment, the difference between one body and another falls into wonderful clarity. Miranda is not just a merfolk, not just mere predator, but a machine built for the purpose of delivering a bite. Her cheeks are soft and wide because the mass underneath is muscle, large as someone else's biceps, connecting her lower jaw to the upper. More muscle sits inside her mouth, tethering her jaw to the roof of her skull, wrapping around the back and into her neck for more power, swifter delivery, greater strength. The size of her head alone is something to be considered, large as someone else's ribcage, large as a torso, so much of it muscle, so much of it connected back to her neck, neck thicker than other's legs.

The rest of her head is solid bone, connections for that muscle, reinforcement to prevent her from breaking her own skull for the force of the bite she holds. Her teeth are vast and arranged in one perfect row, focused pressure and force down onto each and every point with nowhere to go. Serrations that line her teeth would crack down into bone and splinter it, force it apart, render it useless with two tons of pressure borne down into such a small area that nothing survives, nothing lasts. This is the bite that her scales are designed to save herself from, and there is a reason they would prevent entry to anything less.

In a single, terrifying moment, faster than air or light or the divine or anything that could have saved a poor, hapless soul, Miranda's teeth are on Amira's shoulder, a moment given in the awareness of any living being that was aware that there were things out in the world which could deliver oblivion onto them, everything that instinct was working to prevent—

But Miranda's teeth do not go through Amira's shoulder. They do not break bone, do not make pain and blood bloom in their wake and grant sweet oblivion. Skin splits as teeth are pushed in, but in comparison to that terrible awareness of what Miranda could do, it feels nearly sweet. Tender. These are cuts, blood, but they are shallow, superficial, leaving marks but not marring muscle and flesh.

Miranda's arms, lost somewhere in the focus on her killing jaws, have wrapped around Amira in kind, and they squeeze her tight. Miranda's chest meets Amira's, flesh on scales and vast ribcage, with a heartbeat behind them that is beating a little faster than usual. It seems so loud, up this close. Miranda's pulse is usually so sluggish, so languid, and now it fills the spaces between with a heedy and pulsating thump.

Miranda is growling. Low, animal growls. Something that makes the hair instinctively raise, too low to be comfortable, rumbling through bone down to the marrow, felt more than its heard. Growls like this are not made to be heard twice, but here Amira is, audience to something feral and new leaking out of Miranda's jaws, which push their fangs so tenderly into her shoulder, as if hoping Amira could feel every inch.

These are not angry growls. Not in the least.

@royalreef said: "Trick or Treat!" for amira :>

Happy Halloween <3

14. Bite mark

"Hey, Miri~!" Amira rushes forward to give the princess a big, warm hug, wrapping her arms around her tightly.

And then, in a fit of hubris, bites her on the shoulder.

Wrasslin' time.

[nervouspearl]

[roslin]

raquel cassidy as Miranda Cleaves  » doctor who | 6.05 & 6.06

[witchesmortuary]

Raquel Cassidy and John Barrowman in 'Hustle' as a couple. Aka. Miranda Cleaves and Captain Jack Harkness meeting and, just like a miracle, they get along perfectly. Miranda: Hello I am Miranda Cleaves and you are..? Jack: Captain Jack - *gets interrupted* Doctor: No! Stop it! Ms Cleaves I just saved you from death. Don't betray me in THAT way. Jack: *winks at Miranda* Miranda: *grins*

[pixhot]

Miranda Kerr