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therealemotion · 2 years

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Twilight Suzuka by Antigone aka shelina chapman

Wednesday, March 3, 2021

8:21 AM

Chapter One: The fairytale character

My thoughts are to bleed like a mad soul in twine, I say to myself . The voices in my sczhorphrenic head are waging war with. God had told me, long before he gave me sczhorprenia, that I was the Holy Grail.

I could control my fears…but could I control Him? I try to. He only laughed. He would say my Holy Grail was of two naked women in a cup, meaning superficially, I was a Lesbian.--which I, at least to my virgin Knowledge was not.

I listen to Supermassive Black Hole by Muse from the Stephanie Meyer's inspired "Twilight" films. I never watch them, I only read. Reading is ALL I ever do…Either that, or sit around and do nothing but sleep in.

I but on a show in my room as I begin to drift in the world of Real Emotion. My thoughts are luminous. My feeling sore and defiled. I have no EMOTION, I tell myself. My emotions are just that bare a popsicle stick.

I do not watch television, however I do play games on the PlayStation 2 every now and then. My room was a mess, so I reluctantly decide to start cleaning it. My head then fills with the after effects of the amorphic gassy and fizzy feeling of medicinal lightheadedness from not taking my prescription for fears that I may be poison myself with the image of bilateral fusion with Piper and Picus. Piper an Picus are a sedative for making ends met. That is what the gods of Mt. Olympus keeping murmuring, not to me, but about me and me being able to hear the voices of the dead.

No one outside the animal world knows of me and the power vested within. And even that has its shortcomings. That is because the presence of good and evil are everywhere, not just within Man but within Nature. Take that as my experience with my imagination, calling itself Abolisk the Tormentor, or my menial term Imagination, and you get bitter sweet Choas.

I lead with my mind not with my heart.

I can speak to the animal, that is one of the abilities I have. I can shape change, however, I can only complete translation only under certain circumstances. Such things include the Heart judging, as if I would ever allow myself to lead up to that. The heart can fool me, and with a mind like mine, why base everything on love and beauty of your typical Ares woman? I lead with my mind not with my heart. I think a strong mind wields a stronger body and a mind is a terrible ting to waste.

I practice playing games to support myself in battling those mysterious shadows that prey on the weak-minded or the passive. It is the art of war using residual thinking, positive reinforcement, and learning and probability. I practice reviewing school interludes that I used to know before I had graduated before being affected with the mental illness sczhorprenia.

With my eyes wide shut, I would imagine whole new worlds of adventure I read about in books to the point my father thinks it does not do me any good. My imagination is so vivid, its self-aware and able to come to reality. That is when I find out not only I could stop time, but also move back and forth through it in sleep mode.

I call my intuitions "Memory", "Memory", "Melody", "Mnesesyne" or in assimilated order. I had built a time machine, in which Pegasus interrupted and took that away. I have invented time travel back to the Cretaceous Period where my dinosaur dream avatars would be only to discover that all my dreams are real by the message of Allah.

My dreams are amphitoads, now. They spiral out of control. I have dreams of the god of the Underworld as Edward Cullens, his own reincarnation

Edward was an underworld, fairy dream that I ran into in my soon-to-be nightmares while Hades, was my day-to-day reality. He rarely ever bothered Cerberus, the demon-dog of Hell as they walked side-by-side on the Earth saying that they ruled the Netherworld. Cerberus would be in the disguise of a normal animated, Labrador or a human musician.

He kept close to the ghost of Aaliyah and the figurine of Missy Elliot. His association with the canine world was unprecedented. He would really blow them away, especially Charlie Barkin and Elizabeth Taylor, two other angelic dogs caught up in the Netherworld.

I pause. Cerberus thinks to himself again. He understands everything I have been saying. He smiles in his dog-gone smirk that "…the chimney between us goes far as it is wide. Don't it??"

I listen to myself think again for a while. Maybe I can make a new platform hit of Death for Sailor Pluto's planet.

Cerberus thinks to himself again.

My eyes feel watery. I wipe them clean. I begin to think of a more innovative "death". I summon up the courage to challenge my of "life".

I hear Pluto say to himself, "the Garment Grid ain't what it used to be," and then mumble on.

As apparent as the legendary Darla Dimple would have said, "I'm not worthwhile." And that's only because Mary Magdalene poised a threat to her foundering youth.

I want to know about You, I tell myself. Then, I see her: my other self, my other Isabella Swan. Her name was Nadene, alias Christine Howard or Christine steward or whatever, and she looked exactly like myself even thought she was a complete stranger. I got along with her, yeah, uh-huh, but because I was Black and she was Pilipino, my dear Hades sided that white was right and began flirting with her.

He gives me a pat on the thigh and smiles, "I know what you're thinking….?"

"What?"

"You're hunting rabbits," he laughed.

I pretend to be Sailor Pluto from Sailor Moon and guard the invisible gate of Time found in my virgina. Amused, as always, my infrivoulous and infractilous admiration of Pluto goes ten-to-one, even if Isabella is there.

Morning rises, suns set.

The dead walk the earth.

Morning, noon, and night I

Pray, thou befoul my

Epidiifs Earth

Naked, cold, and wandering

A virgin lights a candle.

So black that she utters slurs that.

Transpire as the evening shadows.

Hearts are one, and seasons baring.

And she continues to count backwards.

Time moves on without her.

A high and mighty virgin

Sacrifice….

The cold is baring. The seasons are neigh.

I have no home but the Virgin Mary inside.

I make love to by virgin lover, whose eyes see

Nothing—hear nothing—knows all.

My pilgrimage is one and I am baring the fruits of

Heaven just as my forefathers have done.

Who am I? I am “Padme”.

Miracles are a thing that I have only known.

When I once loved Hades, I felt the world tremble.

---We both love Hades—that is what she said. The female

Goddess of Memory that would be my shadow….and me

Reincarnation. In about 3000 years, Hades and I shall meet again.

I shall be Isabella Swan and he shall be my Edward Cullens from the book

And the movie Twilight by Stephanie Meyers. I was a force bearer, a bearer of

Words and symbols, phrases, and metaphors.

Her name was Isabella Swan the exact Swan of the Final Fantasy.

This world is my world—a world of endless books and writing, a world of letters and dementia. I am author and narrator of the Story—the story being the Story and or stories of my own life or the lives of others. I am free and independent. I am an Ares woman. My real name is Shelina Denise Chapman, and I am an honorary 34-year-old virgin, African-American woman with sczhorprehenia. I can be driven to bouts of paranoia and hernia. My lips are red, and my fingers are forever busy typing new stories that my disease keep calling a Greek-Norse myth. I love to read and to write stories. I have been doing these habits and hobbies since I was in the first grade.

When I once loved Hades, I felt the world tremble.

Back when I was a teenager, it was much easier to write and read, otherwise go ahead a write by hand everything I needed Sometimes I would write in my diary and make it into a fantasy story; other times, when I was busy masturbating, I would write about the whole sexual impulse on screen. I have never had a companion; I have feeling morally applicable that I would not need one.

I keep hearing the supernatural, and have a hard time pinpointing my thoughts with my mind. I can hear them as I think, I can see them as I was—the walking dead. I like and I love to dream and imagine new possibilities and new ideas as well as some newly fabricated technologies and nurturing old ones. Like the telephone! I am the reason why the supernatural have telecommunications, let alone their own souls.

Deep into the passageways of fallen Roman warriors, stood the mighty Disney’s Hercules. His physical statue was otherworldly, with both nimble and grace along a pleasant night sheath. I am Disney’s Esmerelda from The Hunchback of Notre Dame animated film, and I am flabbergasted as to the virtue and maiden aura of this animated godly marvel. Why, oh, why, must I be the splendor one?

“Cupid’s arrows reach you Hades?” a voice familiar to me said from behind. It was Hermes, dressed in fine Latin-American clothing fit for the 21st century this is.

I shake my head to arouse suspicion, “Naw.” The curly -waxed figurine of the black-haired, middle-aged man comes to focus.

So, he is fat too, the Prophet said in her mind thinking from the safety of her own mind. Her name was simply Minerva Backster’s.

“Cupid couldn’t find me at 100% maximum,” he said as he nodded. He shook his head at the tall Roman figure, “Like to tower them nuts for the pack’s their worth.”

They laugh.

I find their flakiness disturbing and harmonic, a pertinence for the admiration yet conservativism of their homosexuality.

I am alone again. My head begins to hurt. I envision myself taking medicine for my needless-to-say sczhorprenia, as well as for the psychic anomaly I pose by strengthening it up. For an instance, I thought I saw Death; a shy smug figure of a Titan named Baby—Baby New Year.

Upon Me Again

Morning rises, suns set.

There are thoughts.

Which crossed my mind?

That fathom not suggestion

But the absence of Time==

Thoughts that are pending, thoughts

That are uplifting— ME.

I take a whisper of sand in my Holy Grail,

And call it Edith Blasphemy.

Such radiance designed by air.

Such vigor

I know not why nor where.

Am I the downfall?

Am I the anticipation?

No one knows why nor

Cares.

But here—But where?

But downfall. Down, down

The river bends a mermaid summoner.

Summoning up Elysian fields.

The mermaid listens—I pray.

Her fin turns to legs, and I ravish her.

She swears at me up and down.

I laugh.

I laugh…

“‘He and his shoulder blades were curving; a mixture of piper and Picus, They were.

Up against the dreariest place, I would imagine.

A ceinture of a void, seldom looked at and pronounced dead.’

Less time is available here, I begin to think to myself. And surely, if actions speak louder than words,

Then so do I-- The intelligence of the human Bible.

A short while later, my arms are wrapped in plenti. I have no mercy for the Lord whatsoever.

That is because my brain is made of Styrofoam, and my prayers are made of ice- cream bars.

I am Pluto—god Hades Pluto, ruler of the netherworld.

My sign is all I have to my name ever since Persephone reincarnated two- hundred, five years ago—and that was Plutonian time.

‘Mark my words, Galileo,’ I told Jesus one summer afternoon, ‘I’ll find the dame for me’

His pale-green eyes hit me like a love light. We made love that day. Passionate, huh? I take a moment to think back: Rome, Ancient. Babylonica. These things reap my mind. From dusk ‘til dawn, I pant like a lion’s head over this Minerva fluid. Jesus’s white ass touched me like that Falcon Furor Phoenix Flame exhibit Hesus likes to talk about so much. I remember myself moaning when suddenly an ebidimic spider came crashing down onto me. My sharp, demon eyes durn pale black and white as the scaled white dragon of Ra.

I give off an instant hiss, ot my lover’s dismay. It was that vision again. My eyes click. I maintain Biblical statues as my discography continues to merge one with me. The Scorpio within me tells me that Isabella Swan from Twilight, just struck down her creator. I give a hushed mouth to my dog Cerberus, faithful and true as always.

What could I say but to allow my own prejudices perceive me? I was in love with the goddess of Destiny herself and her would-be reincarnations….especially Isabella.

I grab my rod and satyr; ‘What a day I’ll be having.’

Isabella would look live and low at herself. My image was decimated…and on the floor? It was a bloody body wrapped in sheets; a mirror image of herself! Gasping, I awaken from the dream feeling a little bit flushed. Why would Isabella murder me? The image of the pickaxe’s admittivities to my forehead is staggering. I am Juno, the legendary Shelina Denise Chapman, personal narrator of the story herself.

I could feel her in my feet and bones—that warm September afternoon, as I envisioned the two of us inside a black spotted jeep, leaning back conquering the world of symbolisms. With my head held high, I begin to recall the primum opus of the magna carta. Every moment was dedicated to my esteem college Micheal Alexander Dimitrius Alleluia, my personification of myself living in the world of Dreams. My Uncle Randy, a middle-age elder man about the age of 47, was dark sinned brown and Spanish-speaking highlights as the African-American man always appealed to me as a strong sense of moral character and duty. That was not just beginning with his Scorpio sign, but his association with the Chronicles of Riddle Freddy Kreuger assigned to me. The antsy thoughts race across my mind about the Scorpio sign of my Uncle.

“Go, Pluto

Do it, Pluto

Go Pluto, shake it, Pluto!”

Little did he know I was an Evangelion…or so it seemed….

I walk up to him one morning late last spring and begin thinking and digging deep into my thought about various obscure aborigines—mostly about feelings that my sczhorprenia missed placed or about thoughts and experiences I had in my early childhood. Here I am, a 35-year-old African American girl thinking about the past. Odd, isn’t it? Especially since my recently deceased, in that time, Uncle Martin—a different Uncle mind you, perished after taking a single needle into his arm. Suicide. My other Uncle Avery was a retired military man, however. Although kind-hearted, he was a little more than trifling when it comes to cooking. I would laugh whole-heartedly with not meaning and concurringly at him until the day I received the apparition of me embracing Squall Lionheart as Rinoa Heartilly when I feel headlong backwards in an African-American, wooden designed chair.

Back in those days, my mother, two brothers and myself were homeless, and, we surely would have need somewhere to go. Uncle Avery was the first to pick up the dresser and pull us off the streets.

I pick myself up off the ground and begin debating with myself. My lips between my legs are tight as a drum as always, I think to myself No one has ever been there but myself, my parents, and a few doctors. I wonder when I will begin to have my own first love? I will be wondering about this for some time now. That was when it occurred to me: I have not practiced my battle format yet. I could imagine my virgina’s transforming into an erectile penis. I begin to moan at the thought of masterbating with Tifa Lockheart and several other Final Fantasy characters throughout the ages. My breeeches were appearing wet and dry at the same time. My thoughts were aflutter. I begin to moan at the thought off the emptiness and begin to cry out infuror seduction. I was a boy again playing with his andromedin, just as easily as I have squared it.

Diablos, my kitten, began to follow it pursuit as the imaginary feline companion. His black fur and grey-white temples began to appeal to my sight of imagination a strange sort of fondness. I could hear him talk to me under his skin. His purrs began to echo in my ears. I began to see images of my feline companion very vividly over the radio speakers in my ears.

Tooth

Tooth, I feel you flowing in my ears

I hear the softness, streaming

Tooth…I feel you flowing through my ears--

A quickness I have only but persevered.

It is going down…Down…down…

The pelvic gland against my ears,

The inert-arachnid—the male womb—

Against my craven belly.

Its tooth of nails—the virgin woman—is but a man,

Yet a woman.

It is my bra strap, that transits reality—

A broadband horizon, a futile

Reality.

From <https://d.docs.live.net/025cb40a2a1fb452/Documents/poems.docx>

Excaliber.docx

Destiny fulfilled

“Looks like there’s no one home,” he said as he led me up the stair of the hotel called Lavenders’ Grave. His name was Boundary, Boundary Loins. He was a smoothed talking nigga-loving, pursuit of religion that had shown through his grey hair and cloudless, white, and green=spotted teeth.

I, Magnificent, guides him firmly in between my tusks, red blouse of sparkling red, grey, and white. “…These arms are yours,” I whispered as I was doomed to repeat it.

His fangs appear as his messages my neck with the tip of his tongue. He echoes slowly purrs of exultation. His black hair, and pale skin collide with my uterus as his suspends me in animation, roaring softly against paved stone.

He clicked his tongue and then fills my mouth with red, silken blood—my own. He was drinking me and fiercely ripping into my thighs with zero tolerance of cruelty.

My auburn hair began to sway as the nightmare began to creep in. I was bitten by a vampire-zombie, and I was licking my lips as he was doing it.

The school bells would begin to ring again, on one Sunday afternoon. Bible study would begin. My seat of raging hormones was filled with sweat as I continue reading a chapter of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. I had long since put away my cross when the study of the Egyptian mosque began to ring into my ears. My arms where testy, as the sultry bosom it provided for this 25-year-old body began to vibrate with Excalibur.

“Somewhere beyond the night….” I would say as I would look up at the sky and dream. “I will find you,” I say to the distant wonderland I would know as Event Horizon.

As busy as the day went by, my soul went spiraling; I have promises. My neck bracer of black and grey began to itch and pound my suggestions with Final Fantasy VII popularity. As soon as my arms where full, I gain momentum trusting back and forth inside my chair just narrowly escaping a fall.

“Lucifer, what are you doing?” my history teacher commanded. Her hair was somewhat grey pale. She had no eyes but could sense things, terrible things happing all around her. She wore a pale white and black peddler’s cloak and expected me to do the same. Her back was hunched over with swollen scared ruffles of ginger skin and white velvet culprit defray.

My eyes roll to the bottom of the classroom, “MY name is Lucifer only in name Mon Diez.”

She strikes me down with her clubbed hands.

My world is full of gray stars and vomit. “My head hurts,” I complain. In the blink of an eye, I see Hades’ scythe roll passed my eyes. I shudder and recover automatically shrieking, “What was that?”Wednesday, March 3, 20218:21 AMChapter One: The fairytale characterMy thoughts are to bleed like a mad soul in twine, I say to myself . The voices in my sczhorphrenic head are waging war with. God had told me, long before he gave me sczhorprenia, that I was the Holy Grail.I could control my fears…but could I control Him? I try to. He only laughed. He would say my Holy Grail was of two naked women in a cup, meaning superficially, I was a Lesbian.--which I, at least to my virgin Knowledge was not.I listen to Supermassive Black Hole by Muse from the Stephanie Meyer's inspired "Twilight" films. I never watch them, I only read. Reading is ALL I ever do…Either that, or sit around and do nothing but sleep in.I but on a show in my room as I begin to drift in the world of Real Emotion. My thoughts are luminous. My feeling sore and defiled. I have no EMOTION, I tell myself. My emotions are just that bare a popsicle stick.I do not watch television, however I do play games on the PlayStation 2 every now and then. My room was a mess, so I reluctantly decide to start cleaning it. My head then fills with the after effects of the amorphic gassy and fizzy feeling of medicinal lightheadedness from not taking my prescription for fears that I may be poison myself with the image of bilateral fusion with Piper and Picus. Piper an Picus are a sedative for making ends met. That is what the gods of Mt. Olympus keeping murmuring, not to me, but about me and me being able to hear the voices of the dead.No one outside the animal world knows of me and the power vested within. And even that has its shortcomings. That is because the presence of good and evil are everywhere, not just within Man but within Nature. Take that as my experience with my imagination, calling itself Abolisk the Tormentor, or my menial term Imagination, and you get bitter sweet Choas.I lead with my mind not with my heart.I can speak to the animal, that is one of the abilities I have. I can shape change, however, I can only complete translation only under certain circumstances. Such things include the Heart judging, as if I would ever allow myself to lead up to that. The heart can fool me, and with a mind like mine, why base everything on love and beauty of your typical Ares woman? I lead with my mind not with my heart. I think a strong mind wields a stronger body and a mind is a terrible ting to waste.I practice playing games to support myself in battling those mysterious shadows that prey on the weak-minded or the passive. It is the art of war using residual thinking, positive reinforcement, and learning and probability. I practice reviewing school interludes that I used to know before I had graduated before being affected with the mental illness sczhorprenia.With my eyes wide shut, I would imagine whole new worlds of adventure I read about in books to the point my father thinks it does not do me any good. My imagination is so vivid, its self-aware and able to come to reality. That is when I find out not only I could stop time, but also move back and forth through it in sleep mode.I call my intuitions "Memory", "Memory", "Melody", "Mnesesyne" or in assimilated order. I had built a time machine, in which Pegasus interrupted and took that away. I have invented time travel back to the Cretaceous Period where my dinosaur dream avatars would be only to discover that all my dreams are real by the message of Allah.My dreams are amphitoads, now. They spiral out of control. I have dreams of the god of the Underworld as Edward Cullens, his own reincarnationEdward was an underworld, fairy dream that I ran into in my soon-to-be nightmares while Hades, was my day-to-day reality. He rarely ever bothered Cerberus, the demon-dog of Hell as they walked side-by-side on the Earth saying that they ruled the Netherworld. Cerberus would be in the disguise of a normal animated, Labrador or a human musician.He kept close to the ghost of Aaliyah and the figurine of Missy Elliot. His association with the canine world was unprecedented. He would really blow them away, especially Charlie Barkin and Elizabeth Taylor, two other angelic dogs caught up in the Netherworld.I pause. Cerberus thinks to himself again. He understands everything I have been saying. He smiles in his dog-gone smirk that "…the chimney between us goes far as it is wide. Don't it??"I listen to myself think again for a while. Maybe I can make a new platform hit of Death for Sailor Pluto's planet.Cerberus thinks to himself again.My eyes feel watery. I wipe them clean. I begin to think of a more innovative "death". I summon up the courage to challenge my of "life".I hear Pluto say to himself, "the Garment Grid ain't what it used to be," and then mumble on.As apparent as the legendary Darla Dimple would have said, "I'm not worthwhile." And that's only because Mary Magdalene poised a threat to her foundering youth.I want to know about You, I tell myself. Then, I see her: my other self, my other Isabella Swan. Her name was Nadene, alias Christine Howard or Christine steward or whatever, and she looked exactly like myself even thought she was a complete stranger. I got along with her, yeah, uh-huh, but because I was Black and she was Pilipino, my dear Hades sided that white was right and began flirting with her.He gives me a pat on the thigh and smiles, "I know what you're thinking….?""What?""You're hunting rabbits," he laughed.I pretend to be Sailor Pluto from Sailor Moon and guard the invisible gate of Time found in my virgina. Amused, as always, my infrivoulous and infractilous admiration of Pluto goes ten-to-one, even if Isabella is there.Morning rises, suns set.The dead walk the earth.Morning, noon, and night IPray, thou befoul myEpidiifs EarthNaked, cold, and wanderingA virgin lights a candle.So black that she utters slurs that.Transpire as the evening shadows.Hearts are one, and seasons baring.And she continues to count backwards.Time moves on without her.A high and mighty virginSacrifice….The cold is baring. The seasons are neigh.I have no home but the Virgin Mary inside.I make love to by virgin lover, whose eyes seeNothing—hear nothing—knows all.My pilgrimage is one and I am baring the fruits ofHeaven just as my forefathers have done.Who am I? I am “Padme”.Miracles are a thing that I have only known.When I once loved Hades, I felt the world tremble.---We both love Hades—that is what she said. The femaleGoddess of Memory that would be my shadow….and meReincarnation. In about 3000 years, Hades and I shall meet again.I shall be Isabella Swan and he shall be my Edward Cullens from the bookAnd the movie Twilight by Stephanie Meyers. I was a force bearer, a bearer ofWords and symbols, phrases, and metaphors.Her name was Isabella Swan the exact Swan of the Final Fantasy.This world is my world—a world of endless books and writing, a world of letters and dementia. I am author and narrator of the Story—the story being the Story and or stories of my own life or the lives of others. I am free and independent. I am an Ares woman. My real name is Shelina Denise Chapman, and I am an honorary 34-year-old virgin, African-American woman with sczhorprehenia. I can be driven to bouts of paranoia and hernia. My lips are red, and my fingers are forever busy typing new stories that my disease keep calling a Greek-Norse myth. I love to read and to write stories. I have been doing these habits and hobbies since I was in the first grade.When I once loved Hades, I felt the world tremble.Back when I was a teenager, it was much easier to write and read, otherwise go ahead a write by hand everything I needed Sometimes I would write in my diary and make it into a fantasy story; other times, when I was busy masturbating, I would write about the whole sexual impulse on screen. I have never had a companion; I have feeling morally applicable that I would not need one.I keep hearing the supernatural, and have a hard time pinpointing my thoughts with my mind. I can hear them as I think, I can see them as I was—the walking dead. I like and I love to dream and imagine new possibilities and new ideas as well as some newly fabricated technologies and nurturing old ones. Like the telephone! I am the reason why the supernatural have telecommunications, let alone their own souls.Deep into the passageways of fallen Roman warriors, stood the mighty Disney’s Hercules. His physical statue was otherworldly, with both nimble and grace along a pleasant night sheath. I am Disney’s Esmerelda from The Hunchback of Notre Dame animated film, and I am flabbergasted as to the virtue and maiden aura of this animated godly marvel. Why, oh, why, must I be the splendor one?“Cupid’s arrows reach you Hades?” a voice familiar to me said from behind. It was Hermes, dressed in fine Latin-American clothing fit for the 21st century this is.I shake my head to arouse suspicion, “Naw.” The curly -waxed figurine of the black-haired, middle-aged man comes to focus.So, he is fat too, the Prophet said in her mind thinking from the safety of her own mind. Her name was simply Minerva Backster’s.“Cupid couldn’t find me at 100% maximum,” he said as he nodded. He shook his head at the tall Roman figure, “Like to tower them nuts for the pack’s their worth.”They laugh.I find their flakiness disturbing and harmonic, a pertinence for the admiration yet conservativism of their homosexuality.I am alone again. My head begins to hurt. I envision myself taking medicine for my needless-to-say sczhorprenia, as well as for the psychic anomaly I pose by strengthening it up. For an instance, I thought I saw Death; a shy smug figure of a Titan named Baby—Baby New Year.Upon Me AgainMorning rises, suns set.There are thoughts.Which crossed my mind?That fathom not suggestionBut the absence of Time==Thoughts that are pending, thoughtsThat are uplifting— ME.I take a whisper of sand in my Holy Grail,And call it Edith Blasphemy.Such radiance designed by air.Such vigorI know not why nor where.Am I the downfall?Am I the anticipation?No one knows why norCares.But here—But where?But downfall. Down, downThe river bends a mermaid summoner.Summoning up Elysian fields.The mermaid listens—I pray.Her fin turns to legs, and I ravish her.She swears at me up and down.I laugh.I laugh…“‘He and his shoulder blades were curving; a mixture of piper and Picus, They were.Up against the dreariest place, I would imagine.A ceinture of a void, seldom looked at and pronounced dead.’Less time is available here, I begin to think to myself. And surely, if actions speak louder than words,Then so do I-- The intelligence of the human Bible.A short while later, my arms are wrapped in plenti. I have no mercy for the Lord whatsoever.That is because my brain is made of Styrofoam, and my prayers are made of ice- cream bars.I am Pluto—god Hades Pluto, ruler of the netherworld.My sign is all I have to my name ever since Persephone reincarnated two- hundred, five years ago—and that was Plutonian time.‘Mark my words, Galileo,’ I told Jesus one summer afternoon, ‘I’ll find the dame for me’His pale-green eyes hit me like a love light. We made love that day. Passionate, huh? I take a moment to think back: Rome, Ancient. Babylonica. These things reap my mind. From dusk ‘til dawn, I pant like a lion’s head over this Minerva fluid. Jesus’s white ass touched me like that Falcon Furor Phoenix Flame exhibit Hesus likes to talk about so much. I remember myself moaning when suddenly an ebidimic spider came crashing down onto me. My sharp, demon eyes durn pale black and white as the scaled white dragon of Ra.I give off an instant hiss, ot my lover’s dismay. It was that vision again. My eyes click. I maintain Biblical statues as my discography continues to merge one with me. The Scorpio within me tells me that Isabella Swan from Twilight, just struck down her creator. I give a hushed mouth to my dog Cerberus, faithful and true as always.What could I say but to allow my own prejudices perceive me? I was in love with the goddess of Destiny herself and her would-be reincarnations….especially Isabella.I grab my rod and satyr; ‘What a day I’ll be having.’Isabella would look live and low at herself. My image was decimated…and on the floor? It was a bloody body wrapped in sheets; a mirror image of herself! Gasping, I awaken from the dream feeling a little bit flushed. Why would Isabella murder me? The image of the pickaxe’s admittivities to my forehead is staggering. I am Juno, the legendary Shelina Denise Chapman, personal narrator of the story herself.I could feel her in my feet and bones—that warm September afternoon, as I envisioned the two of us inside a black spotted jeep, leaning back conquering the world of symbolisms. With my head held high, I begin to recall the primum opus of the magna carta. Every moment was dedicated to my esteem college Micheal Alexander Dimitrius Alleluia, my personification of myself living in the world of Dreams. My Uncle Randy, a middle-age elder man about the age of 47, was dark sinned brown and Spanish-speaking highlights as the African-American man always appealed to me as a strong sense of moral character and duty. That was not just beginning with his Scorpio sign, but his association with the Chronicles of Riddle Freddy Kreuger assigned to me. The antsy thoughts race across my mind about the Scorpio sign of my Uncle.“Go, PlutoDo it, PlutoGo Pluto, shake it, Pluto!”Little did he know I was an Evangelion…or so it seemed….I walk up to him one morning late last spring and begin thinking and digging deep into my thought about various obscure aborigines—mostly about feelings that my sczhorprenia missed placed or about thoughts and experiences I had in my early childhood. Here I am, a 35-year-old African American girl thinking about the past. Odd, isn’t it? Especially since my recently deceased, in that time, Uncle Martin—a different Uncle mind you, perished after taking a single needle into his arm. Suicide. My other Uncle Avery was a retired military man, however. Although kind-hearted, he was a little more than trifling when it comes to cooking. I would laugh whole-heartedly with not meaning and concurringly at him until the day I received the apparition of me embracing Squall Lionheart as Rinoa Heartilly when I feel headlong backwards in an African-American, wooden designed chair.Back in those days, my mother, two brothers and myself were homeless, and, we surely would have need somewhere to go. Uncle Avery was the first to pick up the dresser and pull us off the streets.I pick myself up off the ground and begin debating with myself. My lips between my legs are tight as a drum as always, I think to myself No one has ever been there but myself, my parents, and a few doctors. I wonder when I will begin to have my own first love? I will be wondering about this for some time now. That was when it occurred to me: I have not practiced my battle format yet. I could imagine my virgina’s transforming into an erectile penis. I begin to moan at the thought of masterbating with Tifa Lockheart and several other Final Fantasy characters throughout the ages. My breeeches were appearing wet and dry at the same time. My thoughts were aflutter. I begin to moan at the thought off the emptiness and begin to cry out infuror seduction. I was a boy again playing with his andromedin, just as easily as I have squared it.Diablos, my kitten, began to follow it pursuit as the imaginary feline companion. His black fur and grey-white temples began to appeal to my sight of imagination a strange sort of fondness. I could hear him talk to me under his skin. His purrs began to echo in my ears. I began to see images of my feline companion very vividly over the radio speakers in my ears.ToothTooth, I feel you flowing in my earsI hear the softness, streamingTooth…I feel you flowing through my ears--A quickness I have only but persevered.It is going down…Down…down…The pelvic gland against my ears,The inert-arachnid—the male womb—Against my craven belly.Its tooth of nails—the virgin woman—is but a man,Yet a woman.It is my bra strap, that transits reality—A broadband horizon, a futileReality.From <https://d.docs.live.net/025cb40a2a1fb452/Documents/poems.docx>Excaliber.docxDestiny fulfilled“Looks like there’s no one home,” he said as he led me up the stair of the hotel called Lavenders’ Grave. His name was Boundary, Boundary Loins. He was a smoothed talking nigga-loving, pursuit of religion that had shown through his grey hair and cloudless, white, and green=spotted teeth.I, Magnificent, guides him firmly in between my tusks, red blouse of sparkling red, grey, and white. “…These arms are yours,” I whispered as I was doomed to repeat it.His fangs appear as his messages my neck with the tip of his tongue. He echoes slowly purrs of exultation. His black hair, and pale skin collide with my uterus as his suspends me in animation, roaring softly against paved stone.He clicked his tongue and then fills my mouth with red, silken blood—my own. He was drinking me and fiercely ripping into my thighs with zero tolerance of cruelty.My auburn hair began to sway as the nightmare began to creep in. I was bitten by a vampire-zombie, and I was licking my lips as he was doing it.The school bells would begin to ring again, on one Sunday afternoon. Bible study would begin. My seat of raging hormones was filled with sweat as I continue reading a chapter of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. I had long since put away my cross when the study of the Egyptian mosque began to ring into my ears. My arms where testy, as the sultry bosom it provided for this 25-year-old body began to vibrate with Excalibur.“Somewhere beyond the night….” I would say as I would look up at the sky and dream. “I will find you,” I say to the distant wonderland I would know as Event Horizon.As busy as the day went by, my soul went spiraling; I have promises. My neck bracer of black and grey began to itch and pound my suggestions with Final Fantasy VII popularity. As soon as my arms where full, I gain momentum trusting back and forth inside my chair just narrowly escaping a fall.“Lucifer, what are you doing?” my history teacher commanded. Her hair was somewhat grey pale. She had no eyes but could sense things, terrible things happing all around her. She wore a pale white and black peddler’s cloak and expected me to do the same. Her back was hunched over with swollen scared ruffles of ginger skin and white velvet culprit defray.My eyes roll to the bottom of the classroom, “MY name is Lucifer only in name Mon Diez.”She strikes me down with her clubbed hands. My world is full of gray stars and vomit. “My head hurts,” I complain. In the blink of an eye, I see Hades’ scythe roll passed my eyes. I shudder and recover automatically shrieking, “What was that?”

The religious, through and through never amused me. I would picture them on the Himalayas stripping bare naked like a Jay bird’s egg. I wonder what else awaits me today as I topple over mountains of pre-owned novels and other valuables amonst the middle of the Ares Ram zodiac sign.

#Twilight Suzuka by Antigone aka Shelina Denise Chapman

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aroarachnid · 2 years

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I posted 3.773 times in 2021

151 posts created (4%)

3622 posts reblogged (96%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 24.0 posts.

I added 1.257 tags in 2021

#hk - 349 posts

#rb - 279 posts

#saiki k - 109 posts

#ut - 85 posts

#utdr - 83 posts

#myart - 77 posts

#ash rambles - 72 posts

#hollow knight - 71 posts

#reblog - 68 posts

#tes - 64 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#i doubt i wouldve even started drawing if i hadnt just abandoned my perfectionism in order to draw 100 flowey pictures with zero shame

My Top Posts in 2021

crying shaking thinking about how kusuo knows nobody actually understands his personality at all. he sees all their fantasies of chiyo trying to date him and kaidou trying to protect him and all of them are wildly out of character. it makes for good comedy but it very obviously upsets him.

i think that's why when teruhashi said "i wish saiki were here. even if he would just sit with a blank expression the whole time", saiki actually smiled at that and noted it. saiki has to hide a lot of himself from other people so when someone actually understands him it really means a lot.

and then theres the suprise birthday scene. saiki is floored when his friends actually realise that saiki isnt acting like himself- he assumed that they would prefer him as more outgoing and actually thinks he would ruin his own birthday party by showing up.

idk where i was going with this its just kinda depressing tbh and i hope saiki realises that people like him for him and not whatever mask he puts up

209 notes • Posted 2021-11-27 23:08:24 GMT

bad day today so its plushie ghost time

229 notes • Posted 2021-09-15 21:06:58 GMT

yeah,,

300 notes • Posted 2021-05-21 21:23:56 GMT

I drew ghost with the nonbinary pride flag colours :)

423 notes • Posted 2021-03-25 12:42:05 GMT

The Doctor: gender is a performance and today's show is cancelled

Missy: gender is a performance and I'm doing improv comedy

503 notes • Posted 2021-09-03 00:21:46 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #ash rambles

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randomestfandoms-ocs · 3 years

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12 Days Of Christmas Countdown

12 fandoms: American Housewife [Missy Bradford in Mirror Glass]

Caught between a strong mind and a fragile heart

Forever Tag List: @themildestofwriters @gottaenjoythelittlethingzz @juliesdahlias @seaweedhufflepuffocs @bravelittleflower @the-october-reviewer @foxesandmagic @perfectlystiles @papergirlverse @anotherunreadblog @peacheydelanhoes @darkwolf76 @randomfandoming1 @ocfairygodmother @itsjustgracy @witchofinterest @villanele @ultraocfury @guardiansofheroes @malice1329 @mystic-scripture @ochub @xmelia-pxnd @zoeliemyers @butcherofblackwater @fragilestorm @eddysocs @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle @ocappreciationtag @vivis-ghost-wife @fiercefray @stareyedplanet - want to be added? shoot me an ask!

Missy Tag: @megdonnellys

#missy bradford #ocappreciation #allaboutocs #queerocs #mirror glass #christmas countdown 20 #my work #my edits #my moodboards #my ocs #american housewife oc

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constantlyirksome · 5 years

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A Case for Big Mouth and Why it Works (Season 3 Review.)

South Park, Family Guy, Rick and Morty, for a long time we’ve been saddled with adult cartoons whose main goals were shock and awe to set them apart. But recently, with the introduction of streaming creators are taking risks. Bojack Horseman, a show equal in its whimsy and despair, is about to air it’s final, sixth season, proving a show can be mature, and tackle adult issues, and not resort to cheap shots or punching down with racism or sexism.

Big Mouth, created by Nick Kroll and Andrew Goldberg may not shy away from lewd, offensive and downright disturbing visuals, but I would argue that it falls more in the thoughtful and complex category.

The third season is just as debauched, but it still manages to carve out a lot of time to make thoughtful observations, in between dick jokes and people wanting to fuck turkeys. Peppered in here and there are jokes that are actually well crafted, and storylines that are progressive and joyful.

Season 3 picks up right after the Valentines Day special. Andrew, a newly recruited incel and asshole has gone full entitled male, violent chauvinist while his best friend Nick, now guided by Connie the hormone monstress, becomes more thoughtful, trying to become an ally to the girls in his school. He’s not good at it but he tries.

Guiding these two, and all the other freaks in their class, are Connie and Maurice the hormone monsters, who push the kids to do stupid things without thinking in an apt representation of how shit puberty actually feels. Maya Rudolph as Connie has been the shows MVP every season, her voice dripping like honey as she tells Nick and Jessie to rob people and jack it.

That’s my favourite thing about Big Mouth, all aspects of human development and thinking are recognized by some form of beast, wizard or hag driving the process. The embodiment of human shame, Shame Wizard, last season’s breakout star voiced by Harry Potter’s David Thewlis, only appeared once in S3, but many new friends showed up that were just as nuts. An old flying hag starts following Andrews's mother around, the embodiment of menopause, screaming both the joys and heartache of a woman’s reproductive going out of business sale. Voiced by Carol Kane (Kimmy Schmidt) she teaches Mrs. Glouberman to embrace her new stage of life.

A talking phone name Cellsea voiced by Chelsea Peretti sucks Nick into the virtual vortex, the embodiment of the human addiction to screens and phones. She’s basically Gina from B99 in a phone, she bullies and berates nick, goading him to do irresponsible shit, and it’s marvelous. Returning are the talking ladybug, Mirror Missy, Depression Kitty (a giant purple cat representing depression) and many more.

The creators of this show are coming out with a spinoff called “Human Resources”, which will likely feature all these whimsical nightmares that I’m very much looking forward to.

Bigmouth S3 focuses on more than the two boys this season, giving thoughtful, and dare I say heart-warming stories for it’s more minor characters Missy, Jay and Matthew. Matthew (another disciple of the always horny Maurice) has his first kiss with another boy, successfully taming his hormones (proving men can do this) to have a sweet romance with him. Missy grapples with being “too nice”, letting her mean alter ego loose against toxic men and bullies in a truly marvelous way.

Jay finally comes to terms with who he is. After being all sorts of confused on Valentines, he binge watches a Netflix show about a queer magician to try and help him understand who he is. After an amazing musical number featuring Martin Short and the ghost of Freddie Mercury on the many different ways you may choose to self identify he becomes sure and confident in his own bisexuality. It’s an awesome thing to see a young kid unapologetically say he’s bi, refuting people who think “bi is just a stop towards gay.” With the help of a new pansexual classmate Ali (voiced by Ali Wong) encourages him he feels okay telling his classmates.

Although he lives with Nick and his parents most of the season after his family “home alones” him, not for the first time, he’s able to go home finally to try to help his family grow like he has.

The season tackles current politics, first with the trappings of toxic masculinity and double standards in how males and females are supposed to behave. At one point Andrew (before realizing what a jackass he’s being and unintentionally ending up at a Nazi rally) says “I do feel out of control all the time and I think I’ll use that as an excuse for my actions.” After starting an online manifesto the girls and Nick help him realise this is not the way to go. Mr. Lizer the fake woke teacher at the school is a cautionary tale against following this thought process into adulthood, coming across as truly repulsive.

Nick’s obsession with his phone and that whole storyline DOES feel like a boomer wrote it “kids these days on their phone”, it’s a bit ham-fisted but Cellsea is so funny and rude that it is still an entertaining plot thread.

Other funny threads include an incestuous trip to Florida, a story about the history of female orgasms and vibrators which is actually pretty informative, and a PSA against selling ADHD medication to people who don’t need it. Although these stories border on the obscene they never punch down. A person’s identity is never the butt of a joke, they’re celebrated (there’s a lovely little creative scene that describes the story and relevance of Passover Seder).

So go watch season three of big mouth! If you can look past all the cartoon genitals there’s something in there for everyone. Plus it’s worth it to watch Coach Steve (who is more of a cryptid that pops up for a few frames every episode this season) get a makeover from Queer Eye’s fab five, and to hear Tan France call him a “really dumb man.”

#big mouth #nick kroll #jenny slate #john mulaney #maya rudolph #chelsea peretti #jason mantzoukas #nick birch #connie the hormone monstress #maurice the hormone monster #andrew glouberman #reviews

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n1ghtcrwler · 4 years

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Chapter Title Tag Game

@mvcreates came up with this tag game for people to highlight the chapter titles in your WIP and give as much or as little info as you like. I thought about doing images for them, but that was getting to be way too tedious, so! Here are all of the named “chapters” for Tall Tales that currently exist. I know the story arcs aren’t technically chapters, but they’re close enough. There are other things I know need to happen during some of the gaps, where I’m still working out the exact structure and the name of the arcs, but these are the ones that are settled. These are listed in chronological order and not necessarily in the order they have been or will be told.

Spoilers ahead!

Title (date range of events): one-sentence intro

Land of Goshen (1 November 1905 to 12 April 1929): Joanna Wozniak cares for a young man with no memory but a connection to the river.

Power in the Blood (11 September 1906 to 9 December 1929): Joanna’s son, Jeremiah Matteson, has his father’s power and a rage all his own.

The Prodigal (22 June to 8 July, 1936): Jeremiah returns home to offer his mother the only relief he knows.

Nephilim (9 April 1961 to 25 December 1975): Jeremiah finds suburban life difficult to maintain.

The Fall (28 June to 3 July, 1989): Having learned of a new cult called the Brood of Nachash with a desire to overthrow established religion, the Catholic Church sends Father Benedict de Monte to investigate.

Sabbatical (7 July 1989 to 12 August 1997): Benedict takes some time to review his life and the cult.

Legion (15 August to 16 October, 1997): Called back into action, Benedict and Tadzio track down a new site connected with the Brood of Nachash.

Born of Water (27 October to 2 November, 2004): John Matteson takes a vacation to Chicago and works with Jackie Veracruz to exorcise the ghost of Alethea Bilson.

Do No Harm (2 November to 31 December, 2004): Jackie continues her investigation into the ghost, while recalling her first test from Hecate.

Queen of Heaven (6-13 November 2004): Benedict investigates the Naga for a potential connection to the Brood, and finds a new ally in Akshainie.

Valley of Dry Bones (10-23 December 2004): Alethea seeks vengeance against her murderer.

Broken Tablets (18-29 December 2004): Benedict and Akshainie travel to Oregon to meet with Tadzio and Henry, who believe they have found a clue to tracking the Brood.

Babylon (20 December 2004 to 1 November 2006): [John] Matteson and friends attempt to find and understand the Devil’s Church.

Book of Shadows (18 January 2005 to 1 March 2006): Benedict and Akshainie seek part of Benedict’s birthright.

Golden Calf (27 February to 1 August, 2005): Matteson begins dating Lori Berman while Jackie begins to suspect Alethea is closing on him.

Road to Perdition (23 August to 15 September, 2005): Matteson, Jackie, Rick, and Charles stumble upon a strange and dangerous cult.

Shadow of Death (30 October to 4 November, 2005): As Lori begins fighting against a terrible power, Matteson and Jackie must intervene.

Poison River Players (14 November 2005 to ?): Jackie starts a new chapter of her life, working with a local theater.

Mark of the Beast (1 March 2006): Matteson accepts a bet to stay in a haunted building, where he, Benedict, and Akshainie find signs of the Brood.

Tree of Life (2-27 December 2006): Alice Templeton calls on Matteson to investigate strange noises in her new house, and the two grow close.

East of Eden (28 April to 5 May, 2007): Alice, Matteson, Jackie, and Rick take a vacation to a cabin owned by Alice’s family, and find they are not alone in the woods.

Walls of Jericho (16-25 June 2007): Matteson investigates a crack in reality that put Jackie in the hospital.

Milk and Honey (2 July to 3 August, 2008): Alice awakes to find she is no longer in the world she knew.

Hind's Feet (23 April 2009 to 29 October 2010): One of the first cases picked up by Matteson’s new private detective agency is the disappearance of Missy Nash.

Eyes to See (6 September to 26 October, 2010): Natasha Fox proves her worth to Matteson by spinning the Nash case into commercial success.

Saint of Lost Causes (24 November to 10 December, 2014): Matteson is sent on a hopeless mission when Columbia tries to use him to earn a favor from Br’er Rabbit.

Moloch (24 October to 25 November, 2016): A group of rogue FBI agents are tracking down Jeremiah, but find Matteson instead.

Sojourner (25-28 February 2021) Akshainie is recalled to Iravati.

Jacob's Ladder (1 August to 19 November, 2026): Something has been summoned by the Brood of Nachash, and it seeks Benedict.

Land of Nod (22 February to 20 September, 2027): Benedict’s devotion to the Catholic Church is put on trial.

Serpent of Old (17 November to 2 December, 2027): Hecate arrives to make good on her threats to Matteson and the debt she is owed.

Tree of Knowledge (5-20 January 2028): Matteson, Benedict, and Daniel Matteson travel to Yggdrasil in search of a means to kill a god.

Revival (1-10 August 2028): Lori returns with a case for Matteson, and the scope of Daniel’s power is revealed.

Born of Spirit (24 October to 1 November, 2028): Matteson, Jackie, Benedict, Akshainie, Tadzio, and Daniel take one last stand against their enemies.

Over Jordan (3-5 November 2028): Matteson is shown the result of his actions.

I don’t know how many of you name your chapters, but if you do, consider yourself tagged.

#violetvineyard #writeblr #writblr #tag game #tall tales

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missielynne · 2 months

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CBS Ghosts Review: Man of Your Dreams

I have so many mixed feelings about this episode. By and large I would say it gets ten for concept and maybe...five or six for execution.

There's no way around it that Sas' dream manipulation is a cool power. But I don't like that it had to be used in a manipulative way to start (seriously Sam, learn to talk things out when you have a problem with Jay, whether it be D and D or his decorating plans, instead of using the ghosts to mess with him!)

It has been pointed out (and I agree) that Sas could have done what he did because as a ghost who has not had ample opportunity to make friends with Livings, he didn't realize his powers could be used that way and stuck with manipulation/fear mongering because that's typically what the ghost/living relationship is. And to his credit, once he realized how his going that route affected Jay, he was legitimately contrite and they both agreed to a friendship (which I want to see more of, along with one with Pete. Please bring Pete into the dream world with you, Sas, as well as all the other ghosts so he can meet you all without hurting or killing himself first.)

Then there's the Thor plot: I know there are some who dislike the 'Thor grieving' aspect of Flower's getting sucked off, but think it's good for his character, especially because it's sincere, which, to me, made Hetty and Alberta's using him as a way to get sucked off all the more painful. I don't blame Alberta and Hetty for wanting to get sucked off in general, considering how long they'd been there, but I don't think manipulating Thor was the way to go, and it would have been wiser to try and get to all his girlfriends and try and find out stuff from them instead. (And bonus...we'd get to see what a ghost flattened by a cattle stampede actually looks like...yes, you can't tell me about Flat Maria, have Thor call her his little pancake, and then not give me a visual, people! (And Nancy wanting to have a go at him after waiting a respectful length of time because she's cool like that was so her and kind of nice after all of Alberta and Hetty's manipulation.)

I'm glad that Jay and Sas made up in the end but I can think of better ways to show off Sas' awesome power that aren't sketchy so that's the bummer but the concept is awesome and I hope that now that everyone is aware that what Sas can do is a thing, we can get Ghost dream meetings with Jay's consent, the future.

@mayamatlinscello, @holdinghandsontheotherside

#cbs ghosts #cbs ghosts spoilers #missie's ghosts reviews

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timeagainreviews · 4 years

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The Chibnall Masterplan

Back in 2018 when the episode "The Ghost Monument," aired, we got our first mention of "The Timeless Child," as uttered by bog rolls floating above the Doctor’s head. My initial reaction to this was dread. In fact, I can even quote my reaction from the review I wrote- "I’ll be honest, I have zero interest in that storyline. It’s called Doctor Who, not Doctor Who was Once a Little Kid Known as the Timeless Child." I got all of that from a single line of seemingly throwaway dialogue. Two years later, it would appear that my first guess was the truth. It turns out that when the Master said "Everything you think you know is a lie," was a lie. Evidently, I knew all along.

If you follow this blog closely, you’ll know that my reaction to the Timeless Child storyline has softened over time. I went from not giving a damn, to being fairly excited. That is until last week’s episode sent me spiralling back into that initial sense of dread. Sadly, this is the energy I brought into tonight’s episode. As opposed to bracing for excitement, I was bracing for disappointment. This is unfortunate as I always try and temper my expectations. I, like the rest of you, would love to be surprised. Even if I am worried about the trajectory of an episode, I always try and keep an open mind. After all, Doctor Who is pretty great.

After last week’s episode, I expected this one to be jam-packed with exposition. Oddly though, this one suffered from its own heaping dose of fluff as well. Once again, the companions spend most of their time on the sidelines. Right away they kill off that Rose Tyler looking girl, so I guess she wasn’t important. Which is a lot of how the episode treats our human characters. We’re given a scene wherein Yaz and Graham have a heart to heart, leading us to believe one of them may be departing at the end of the episode. However, this expectation is subverted by instead having nothing happen. Like last week, Chibnall has opted toward writing hollow character development in place of plot. Because of this, the scenes with the companions felt more like distractions from the actual story.

We get more of this when Ryan, Ethan, and Ko Sharmus are fighting off Cybermen with the power of busywork. Ryan’s attitude toward weapons has shifted since "The Ghost Monument." His interaction with the Doctor has turned him into a bit of a pacifist. Much like Chibnall’s writing, Ko Sharmus muddies this philosophy for Ryan by convincing him to take up arms against the Cybermen. I expected this to play into Yaz and Graham’s conversation, which felt like a foreshadowing of death. Ryan might shoot one of them as they are dressed in their Cybermen disguises, leading him to regret breaking his pacifism. But none of that happens. While it would have been a bit cliched and overly dark to do such a thing, at least it would have been something.

The Master takes the Doctor into the portal to Gallifrey where they stand within the Time Lord citadel. The Master traps the Doctor in a device which may as well be named the Agency Stripper™, as that’s what it, and this episode does to her throughout most of its run. Using the Time Lord Matrix, he illustrates the story of the Time Lord’s origins. All the while in the real world, he invites Ashad, the Lone Cyberman to set up shop on Gallifrey.

The Master tells the Doctor the story about a Shobogan scientist named Tecteun. She was the first of her kind to achieve space flight, which is incredible when you consider the thousands of people that were necessary just to get humans to the moon. During her travels through space, she discovers an odd gateway containing a little girl. She takes this girl home and raises her as her own. During a freak accident, much like Brendan from last week, she falls off a cliff. Damn kids, always playing by rocky cliffsides. However, instead of dying, she regenerates.

Tecteun goes a bit mad scientist trying to unlock the secrets behind regeneration, leading her to do experiments on this timeless child. She even appears to force regenerations on her as well. Eventually, she unlocks the secret of regenerations and successfully uses it on herself. This establishes what would become Time Lord society. At this point, we’re now waiting for the Master to tell the Doctor exactly what we all know- that the Timeless Child is the Doctor. However, there was a moment when it almost seemed like the Master was going to say he was the Timeless Child, which honestly, I would have found far more compelling. It would have informed so much of the Master’s past actions, and his recent relapse in character development after Missy’s change of hearts.

Instead, I found myself rolling my eyes at this "big reveal." It really was that simple. The story I wrote in my head after a single line of dialogue is exactly what we got. We learn that the number of regenerations was placed upon future Time Lords, which is weird because Clara had to plead for the Time Lords to give the Eleventh Doctor more. I guess along with unlocking the secret to the Timeless Child’s regenerations, they were also able to limit their number. That or Chibnall didn’t even think about it.

When considering the wanton destruction of Gallifrey by the Master’s hand, you suspect whatever it was the Time Lords did to this child was heinous. And while, yes, forcing regenerations upon the kid is a bit cruel, they always looked serene (see: bored) while sitting there in Tecteun’s lab. I expected it to be something like Rassilon and Omega destroyed a child to harness her time travelling ability to create the first TARDIS. Turns out, that the thing that really pissed off the Master was knowing that he had a little bit of the Doctor inside of him. While the Master has always been a bit of a maniac, even this felt like a bit excessive.

Back on the Cybership, the humans have stowed themselves away in Cyberman armour. I rather liked this bit as it reminded me of the very first Dalek story where Ian hides away inside a Dalek carapace. While I feel like they could have done more with this, at least they were having a bit of fun. After saving Ryan, Ethan, and Ko Sharmus from the Cybermen, the humans make their way into the portal to Gallifrey. The Cybermen land above the Time Lord citadel where they hover above, ready to make Gallifrey their new home.

The Master does the Doctor dirty and leaves her inside the Matrix to fend for herself, while he goes off to broker a deal with Ashad. We find out that Ashad, with the guidance of the Cyberium coursing through his mind, has created a death particle capable of undoing all organic life in the universe. His big plan is to basically turn the Cybermen into robots, which much like the Master, I found boring. Thankfully the Master is always up to his dirty tricks as he kills Ashad and uses the Cyberium to create a race of Cyberman/Time Lords known as Cyber-Masters. I was a bit disappointed they weren’t called Cyber Lords. However, I suppose the Master naming them after himself is on-brand at least. After all, he did once make an entire planet’s population into himself.

The Doctor is now forced to deal with the new information she’s been given by the Master. She rejects it at first, but the imagery of Brendan in her mind keeps giving her cause to doubt. It’s then that she sees the Ruth Doctor who helps her through her identity crisis long enough to help her escape the Matrix. Her plan to escape is to basically run through every life in her mind until it shorts out and forces the Matrix to release her. This entire sequence is rather silly when you consider the Matrix holds the entire lives of countless other Time Lords. No matter how many lives she had before the First Doctor, it’s not more than the Matrix can handle. What’s even sillier is the way in which they shot it, which was basically by having Jodie Whittaker squeeze her eyes shut and wince while holding her head. I was reminded of hacking scenes in movies where they throw a montage of symbols over the scene to make up for the fact that we’re basically watching some guy on a computer.

The montage is what is really worth mentioning, as it touched upon quite a few things from the Doctor’s past. Some of these things have been mysteries from as far back as the Tom Baker era. I’m speaking of course about the Morbius Doctors. For those of you not in the know, the Morbius Doctors were a series of images projected from the Doctor’s mind during a battle of wits between the Fourth Doctor and an evil Time Lord named Morbius. I had always assumed they were Morbius’ previous regenerations, but many have speculated that they were versions of the Doctor from before William Hartnell. Well, it would appear that this age-old debate can now be put to rest- those were definitely images of the Doctor.

I’d be lying if the nerd in me doesn’t kind of love this. Like I said, I try and keep an open mind. It’s even easier when the concept of Doctors existing before the First Doctor has been around for rather a long time. Andrew Cartmel’s "masterplan," was to introduce the idea of "the Other," which would be a Time Lord on par with Rassilon and Omega that was eventually "cloned," in a genetic loom into the First Doctor. However, the idea was paired back as it was decided the doing such a thing would reveal too much about the Doctor’s past, thus answering too much of the show’s central question- "Doctor Who?"

Was it too much? That’s really hard for me to say at this point. It’s a bit early to know for sure. It does certainly complicate things a bit. To paraphrase something Andrew Cartmel once said at a public appearance- these story elements are like barnacles on a ship. Each one of them attaches to the hull over time. They seem small at first, but they eventually begin to slow the ship down. Take the aforementioned regeneration limitation placed upon Time Lords back in 1976’s "The Deadly Assassin." While it worked for the story at the time, it gave Steven Moffat the unruly task of finding new ways for the Doctor to keep on regenerating. You’ll forgive the guy for not doing the Valeyard.

While the nerd in me does love that they touched upon some deep Doctor Who lore, part of me was also lamenting the introduction of so many new versions of the Doctor. I’ve got a special love for each incarnation of the Doctor. This is why I love the Eighth Doctor audios so much, as it gives us an even deeper understanding of his character, despite his limited screentime. Even the War Doctor was given the chance to develop. Where will the Ruth Doctor play into all of this? Why did she have a police box if she is pre-Hartnell? Is this “Division,” an actual division of the Timeless Child into multiple entities? Will we get to experience her Doctor in a deeper way that feels as fulfilling as the first Doctor of colour deserves? While I hold out some hope for her, what about the montage of children in Tecteun’s lab? Are we going to get comics and Big Finish audios starring some kid you saw for two seconds? (I kid, you know they will) On one hand, we see the first Asian Doctor, on the other hand, they don’t even get a speaking role. Even with so much being added to the Doctor’s history, I can’t help but feel slightly short-changed.

Speaking of short-changed, let’s talk about that ending. The Doctor’s plan actually works, releasing her from the Matrix’s hold, which oddly also releases her from the Agency Stripper™. Convenient! Her companions find her as she’s lying there unconscious. They managed to find her rather quickly considering the city is in ruins. Convenient! The Doctor finds Ashad’s death particle, which has been shrunk down by the Master’s tissue compression device. I’m not sure, but I think this is the reason the death particle is no longer a threat to the entire universe. It now only seems to pose a threat to the organic life on Gallifrey. Maybe this is because Gallifrey is still in its own pocket universe? Either way, it wasn’t very clear. The Doctor makes contact with the Master and pinpoints his location. Convenient! She calls him to the citadel like it was Friday Night Wrestling and they have their little showdown. I swear if they’d have started making out, I wouldn’t have batted an eye, those two.

After forcing her companions to stay behind on a TARDIS set for Earth, the Doctor heads back to have a final showdown with the Master. With the tiny Cyberman attached to an explosive device resembling a torch, the Doctor decides she must kill the Master and this new race of Cyber-Masters before they can kill all of humanity. Having the ability to regenerate, the only way to take these mechanoids down is with the death particle. This is a far cry from the Doctor we’ve seen in "Genesis of the Daleks," or even "Daleks Take Manhattan," where the Doctor would consider such things "genocide." However, the Doctor gets a total cop-out moment as Ko Sharmus shows up long enough to detonate the device himself. After very little prompting, the Doctor allows him to sacrifice himself as she flees.

This, for me at least, is a longstanding problem with Chris Chibnall’s morality. It’s the Thirteenth Doctor’s weird relationship with guns all over again. As if to prove Davros’ point from "Journey’s End," this Doctor feels all too comfortable with allowing others to do her dirty work. Imagine the scene from "The Day of the Doctor," when Clara is standing there looking of the Doctors about to collectively blow up Gallifrey. It’s as if when she said "I never pictured you doing it," instead of changing his mind, the Doctor would say "You know, you’re right. You do it!” There’s a kind of mean spirited morality lurking beneath Chibnall’s writing. Or as my friend Adro jokingly put it- "I would not want to be his S&M partner."

The Doctor sends her companions and the last humans in the galaxy back to the 21st century. Surely no bootstrap paradoxes will come from Yedlarmi or Ethan making future generations of their own ancestors. Time Lords have bigger things to worry about than time anomalies. Right? Oh right. Graham and Ravio still seem perfectly capable of continuing their relationship, so that’s at least something. I also highly doubt either of them are likely to sire any paradoxical offspring any time soon. Though they are still fully capable of raising the sheep that go on to start the Wooly Rebellion. After finding herself pleasantly surprised to be alive, the Doctor finds her way back to her own TARDIS. However, before she can scoop up her companions, she’s intercepted by an angry Judoon who arrests her and throws her into space jail. I imagine this has something to do with why the Ruth Doctor was a "Fugitive of the Judoon."

After all is said and done, it’s really hard to pin down exactly how I feel about this episode. I do applaud the bold move of expanding the Doctor’s canon to include previous regenerations. I’ve always said that Doctor Who does occasionally need a showrunner willing to put their neck on the line. For better or worse, John Nathan-Turner was great for doing exactly that. Sometimes it’s a good thing to shake things up, and really dust off the cobwebs. Though strangely, a lot of tonight’s episode was very non-committal. The Master could very well have been lying. Gallifrey could also still very easily be restored by using the Matrix’s memory. I personally would appreciate that as I love both Romana and Leela. The idea of the two of them dead and eaten away by the death particle is rather distressing. While I liked watching Jodie get a bit snippy and knocking the Master to the ground, I feel like a she never got a moment to be the Doctor. Her “Aha!” moment was short-lived and not very clever. She spends most of the episode either locked up or feeling helpless.

Also, where the hell was Captain Jack? What the hell Chibnall? How are they going to just give us five minutes of John Barrowman? It seems weird to introduce him only to put it off until the next series. However, the most egregious of sins for "The Timeless Children," is how utterly predictable it all was. As I illustrated above, I was able to imagine the entire concept of the Timeless Child the very first time I heard it mentioned. I put no deep effort into it either. It seemed like the most obvious storyline. The same could be said about people’s Ruth theories. Some of which were even better. The only way in which the episode could have surprised me was by making the Master the Timeless Child. It was the one point where I really perked up and began to feel a real interest in the plot. But alas, no, they went the incredibly obvious route. This isn’t to say they won’t be able to do interesting things with this in the future. The issue I’m having is that if I am able to figure out the plot just by hearing a single line of dialogue, did I even need to watch it?

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love-takes-work · 5 years

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Steven Universe: All-in-One Outline & Review

This is an overview of the compilation comic book Steven Universe: All-in-One.

What it is: A collection of most of the comic books that have been released in the Steven Universe franchise.

What it includes: The complete content of the original series of comics from 2014 to 2015, the bonus comics that were included in the two graphic novel compilations, the four-part Steven Universe and the Crystal Gems series, the first twelve issues of the Ongoing Series, and an abbreviated miniature cover gallery.

What it does not include: The content from any of the individual-issue specials (Greg Universe Special #1 (2015), 2016 Special #1 (Big Donut Special) (2016), and Fusion Frenzy #1 (2019); the Harmony comics; the additional original graphic novels, most of the variant covers; any zine content.

Notable:

The book is a chonker. It weighs more than 4 pounds by itself and is in a nice hardcover.

It has some very attractive packaging when it comes to the covers and the format, and the color is very nice.

The first section, containing the stories from 2014 to 2015, original comics 1 through 8, is referred to in this collection as “The Bits.” The stories and art are reproduced as in the original, but the color looks really glossy and brilliant.

Between Issue 4 and issue 5, Rebecca Sugar’s comic is inserted. This was bonus material that did not appear in an individual issue but did appear in the trade paperback compilation of the original comics (AKA Believe in Steven).

After Issues 5 through 8, two more bonus comics appear by Jeremy Sorese. As above, they did not appear in the original issues, but did appear in the trade paperback compilation of the original comics (AKA Keep Beach City Weird).

The second section in the book is Steven Universe and the Crystal Gems, which is the tale of the Glass Ghost.

The third section begins with issue 1 of the ongoing comics that began in 2017.

This All-in-One book contains issues 1 through 12 of the ongoing series. As of its release, the ongoing series was up to 29.

The abbreviated cover gallery begins right after the twelfth issue finishes. This gallery focuses heavily on main covers and excludes most variant covers. The first section of original comics, here now titled “The Bits,” shows off the eight main covers: #1 by Bridget Underwood, #2 by George Caltsoudas, #3 by Amber Rogers, #4 by Matt Cummings, #5 by Amber Rogers, #6 by Tait Howard, #7 by Amber Rogers, and #8 by Amber Rogers. (Note: This artist is now Danny Cragg.)

Next, the main covers by Kat Leyh for Steven Universe and the Crystal Gems are shown in a gallery, and next to it, Jeremy Sorese’s subscription covers are also laid out.

The following page features second and third print covers by Allison Stejlau and Josceline Fenton, and following that come the first four main covers of the ongoing series by Missy Peña. (Notably, Josceline’s subscription cover seems to be included in collections but I’ve never seen an actual copy on an individual issue, and the artist personally expressed doubts that it was ever used so I’m assuming they never sent a contributor’s copy.)

Finally, the last two pages include Missy Peña’s main covers for ongoing comics 5 through 12.

No variant covers, subscription covers, or convention-exclusive covers are included for the original series or ongoing series. It’s not a complete gallery.

Reasons why you should buy this compilation:

You’re a completist when it comes to owning all forms of Steven Universe merch

You did not buy these comics’ graphic novels or individual issues and want to read them

You want a quality product with brilliant colors in an appealing hardcover

You like having three different eras of SU comic stories in one book

You have $50 to $75 you don’t need

Reasons why you should not buy this compilation:

You really only care about the stories and you’ve read these already

You don’t want a collection that has no new bonus material

You only wanted it if it really was all the SU comics together and would be upset that it does not include any special issues or Harmony

You don’t have anywhere to store a book that could be a doorstopper

I was hoping there would be some new content or other incentive to get this besides just to have every incarnation of SU comics out there, but sadly this is all recycled material except for the tables of contents and art/layout for the book itself.

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

#steven universe #steven universe comics #su comics #steven universe all in one #myblog

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underachievers-please-try-harder · 4 years

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Review // Teyana Taylor - The Album

For The Forty-Five. Read online.

At the age of 29, Teyana Taylor has now spent more of her life in the public eye than out of it. A precocious talent, the Harlem-raised artist choreographed for Beyoncé while barely out of eighth grade, and was scouted and signed by Pharrell Williams shortly after, even if it was the 2007-turn on MTV’s ‘My Super Sweet Sixteen’ that first put her on the radar of many.

Taylor has more than proven her versatility in the interim, acting, directing, modelling, dancing and choreographing in addition to singing. And yet, in terms of her solo career, the various machinations of the music industry have meant she’s never quite fulfilled her early potential. Thanks to the legal wranglings required to liberate herself from Williams’ label, Taylor’s official debut album didn’t appear ‘til 2014, and the release of 2018’s Kanye West-produced follow-up, ‘K.T.S.E.’ wasn’t without controversy. Recorded during West’s Wyoming sessions and rolled-out last, after ‘Daytona’, ‘Ye’, ‘Kids See Ghosts’, and ‘Nasir’, the 22-minute record features songs reportedly truncated without Taylor’s knowledge.

Spiritually, then, you could argue that this 23-track strong, almost 90-minute long LP is the sound of Taylor saying, “Enough.” Certainly, ‘The Album’ finds the veteran performer firmly reclaiming her own narrative with a suite of songs intended to elucidate all aspects of her identity, and one that has been divided accordingly into five thematic sections: love, sexuality, self-worth, vulnerability, and triumph.

We’re drawn in close from the offset, with an introduction interpolating audio recordings of her husband Iman Shumpert’s public proposal and of his panicked 911 call following the unexpected homebirth of their daughter, Jumie. Now four years old, Jumie appears on ‘Come Back To Me’ alongside – and billed before – Rick Ross, while NBA star and sometime rapper Shumpert contributes a verse to ‘Wake Up Love’. The liquid groove of the latter is characteristic of the neo-soul-centred first movement, which reaches its natural conclusion in the Erykah Badu-starring and sampling ‘Lowkey’.

Though West returns to co-produce on ‘Made It’, stylistically ‘The Album’ represents a marked move away from the old school samples and lo-fi beats of ‘K.T.S.E.’ For the most part, this is sleek, soulful, 90s-referencing R&B, be it the Aaliyah-referencing ‘Try Again’ or the Mase-sampling ‘How You Want It’. There’s a palpable sense of Taylor reconnecting with her own musical roots, having previously been used more as a foil for other people’s visions.

Considering the calibre of collaborators across the record – be it guest stars like Badu, Lauryn Hill and Missy Elliott, or producers Timbaland and Mike Dean – it’s telling that Taylor is never outshone, such is her charisma and variety as a performer. Trading come-ons with Kehlani on ‘Morning’ she’s simultaneously seductive and vulnerable, while the ‘Rude Boy’-esque ‘Bad’ finds her leaning into her Trinidadian inflections and delivering a supple yet steely vocal performance. ‘Still’ is even starker, a true emotional standout, climaxing in the sort of ragged breaths only caused by real tears. Equally, the performances she coaxes from her guests are startling, be it a rare sung-cameo from Elliott on ‘Boomin’, or Hill’s motivational voice note played out at the climax of ‘We Got Love.’

The latter proves an apt conclusion to a refreshingly personal album in which the overriding message is self-love, regardless of the circumstances. Like its creator, ‘The Album’ is by no means flawless, but this is as honest a reflection of Taylor as we’ve encountered yet. And taking into consideration the context of the record’s release – timed to coincide with Juneteenth, and unwittingly arriving in the midst of the #BlackLivesMatter marches taking place across the globe – this defiant celebration of Black excellence feels especially vital.

#teyana taylor #the album #review #album review #reviews #album reviews #album #albums #the forty-five

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gazrgaley · 4 years

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in the spirit of everyone talking about the Master once more.

Missy stood in the volt, her head backward as she tried to comb out her hair with one hand as she held onto the towel that draped around her with the other. Just then the door of the volt began to open. She glanced up to see it had only been the doctor with what looked like a few puzzle books in his hands. She ignored him and went back to what she was doing.

He took his jacket off placing it at the far end of the room. She didn't speak until he set down. “You know it is considered rude to walked in on a lady when they are not fully dressed.” she was now trying to do something to manage all of her hair. Still not giving him her full attention.

The Doctor now emerged in the puzzle book. “Oh?” he said, forgetting for a moment that the Master was not a man in this regression. He looked up to see her shot him a look, he gave her a small smile ”oh, yeah, I forgot you're a woman now.” an awkward silence as he tried to contemplate what to say next, why were women so difficult he thought. “Oh, come off it. We have known each other since we were eight. Don't start pretending like any of this is a big deal now.”

She went back to trying to braid her hair but was clearly having trouble with it. The Doctor when back to the book. “What's a twenty-nine letter word starting with an F and ending with an?”

She stopped messing with her hair for a moment to think. She looked off as she complained of an answer

“Is there not a clue?”

“Do you need it?” He asked still looking at the page.

glanced off for a second, of course, she didn’t “well your looking straight at it and can't figure it out.” but before he could answer she put her finger out for him to stop. She had a look in her eye “is it a word from earth?”

“Yes.”

“ Got it, it's floccinaucinihilipilification”

The Doctor examined his paper before answering. “It fits” and began to fill in his paper. He looks up long enough to see Missy still struggling with her hair. He watched her for a moment before putting the book down. “Do you need help?”

She straightens herself out and with a heavy sigh of relief “yes, there is so much of it” as she sits in front of him. He begins to brush and braid her hair. Not before long her hair was back up in a ponytail as she begins to dress. The Doctor went back to the puzzle book as she did this.

A moment later she set across from him with another one of the books in her hand. She hadn't been sitting for more than five minutes before she threw the book on the table. First three puzzles completed. “I'm bored” she winced before letting her head fall back on the sofa.

The Doctor got up, walking to where his jacket lied.

“Where are you going? “ Missy set up right, watched him do this. “Don't tell me you're leaving, you just got here.” she would never admit it but she had found recently that being alone was almost unbearable for her. Ever since he tried to get her to help with the monks, the ghost of her past began to hunt her.

He began to put his jacket on. “I can't sit here and listen to you complying. Nardole will be back in an hour with your stuff for the week.”

“Oh joy, I get to look forward to the eggs man. That's not my idea of fun. Besides, how are you going to teach me how to be good if.” But she stopped what she was saying when he dropped her own Jacket on her lap.

“Well, if you really want to wait here for him, I'm not going to stop you.” He said this with a grin on his face as he looked down at her.

She sat there for a moment, frozen, unsure of what she should be doing as the Doctor began to walk off. Not wanting to miss her chance she jumped up to follow him.

*****

When they made it out of the TARDIS Missy had a grin on her face from ear to ear. This, however, was short-lived. It seemed as if they had appeared in the mild of a rainforest. The air was humid, but in an artificial way, as tall trees and Ivey surrounded them. The floor, however, was a freshly polished white granite. She sniffed at the air before taking her finger to her lips, letting it linger in the air then back to her mouth. As the Doctor walked out behind her, she stared at him. “Where are we?”

“Earth,” he said with a big grin on as if it was something spectacular.

She cocked her head at him “you broke me out of the vault just to take me on a field trip to some building on Earth?” she tased the air once more. “It's new” she turned on her heels to take a quick look around “what is this place?” she found herself becoming more angry with him when she turned to see he still had a bright grin on his face.

“It is,” he said with wide eyes as he took a step past her, turning around throwing his arms out. “It’s the biggest that has ever been made on Earth and it will be opening tomorrow. I did the owner a favour a few years from now, and he gave me permission to come whenever I wanted.” he stood there for a moment thinking “perhaps he meant any time after we meat.” he mumbled to himself, quickly ignoring this thought, turning back to Missy. “So what do you think?”

Before she was able to say anything a small yellow and bluebird flew past her head. She watched it perched on a small tree to her right. It was at that moment she realized the room was covered in birds. Her interest peaked, as she took a few steps around to get a better view. To her right was a small roundabout with a bench in the middle. Trees and plants surrounding it. To her left was a large walking area that overlooked a cliff that ended with a small ravine that had a place for the bird to retreat if they didn't want to be bothered with the humans. Missy looked down over the side. There had been so many beautiful birds down there that she wanted to get a better view.

“What are you looking at?” the Doctor asked as he walked up beside her. Leaning against the railing that kept the guest from falling over the cliff. When she didn't answer right away he found himself staring at her. Had this been a good idea. He couldn't help but have a moment of regret, even before she was able to do something out of place. Whatever she did would be on him. Not that this was any different from any other time. He always lived with the burden of all the crimes the Master, or now the Mistress commented.

“I want to go down there?” she finally said. Before he could say anything she was already over the railing and halfway down the cliff. Without hesitation or thought, the Doctor followed. At the bottom, Missy made herself at home. Sitting in the centre of the review trying to get the birds to surround her. Petting them when they got close enough. She quickly became upset went the one she was eyeing didn't want to be bothered with her. Staying off to the other side of the room. She looked up to the Doctor, “perhaps if I got him some food he would come over to me.”

“You know I have always found it very fascinating how you can get so many people to trust you. But there is always that one that can see just how wicked you are at the core.” the Doctor said as an off-handed remark. His grin faded when he noticed this seemed to damper the smile on Missy’s face. He looked up to where they had come from. “You know what, I think there is a machine up there that has bird food in it. I'll go get you some, and we can see if we can get that bird to come over here.” he waited to see her smile return before making his way up to the cliffside.

When he made it up he had found the food, but to his dismay, you had to pay for it. He reached for his sonic, that wasn't there. His first instinct was that Missy had taken it, but quickly remember leaving it on a chair in the TARDIS. He looked down, panicking for a moment when he didn't see Missy at first. But moving slightly to the right and past a tree she came back in sight, still sitting there, surrounded by a few birds. He could make it to the TARDIS before she noticed. Sprinting to the ship, grabbing the sonic and making his way back over to the food dispenser he grabbed a few handfuls to take back down with him. He looked over the cliffside to notice Missy was nowhere to be seen. He moved a few times, hoping the trees were just obstructing his view.

“Missy” he hissed but didn't get a response. He quickly made his way down the cliffside, calling her name all the way down, but still nothing. When he made it down she was still nowhere to be seen. Full-on panic came over him, as he tried to think of everything that she could do. It was only an aviary after all. What was the worst she could do? He didn't want to think about it, this was after all the person who was capable of making a gun out of nothing but some leaves. He rains back up the cliff. He had to find her.

The size of the place didn't sink in until you had to raise around trying to find a homicidal maniac before they did something awful. He raised up and down the corridors until he found himself in a cafeteria. Something seemed amiss, would she try to tamper with the food? He found his way back to the kitchen. It had looked like someone had been in the freezer, but when he made it over it was clear, they were long since gone.

So he went back to raising up and down the corridors. Two hours later he found himself in front of the same exhibits. Things were getting beyond stressful now. What would he do, why was he so stupid to think she wouldn't do something like this, she hated the vault. He was just about to give up when something caught his eye. In the cage with a large vulture was Missy. The Doctor went around the side to enter the enclosure. Missy put her hand up to her lips to indicate for him to be quiet. In her other hand, she held some uncooked meat, trying to get it to come over to her. After a few minutes, it seemed to work. She had a large grin on her face as the bird was now perched on her arm as she fed it the meat.

The Doctor frowned as he looked at her arm. There had been a large gash on her arm that he assumed came from the bird’s large talents. “Doesn't that hurt?” he asks he slowly made his way around her, trying to get a better look.

“Douse what hurt?” she asked, only looking at him momentarily.

“That cut on your arm, doesn't it hurt.” his eyes were not on the bird's claws themselves.

“Oh,” she looked down at her arm for a short time before handing the bird another bit of food. “Oh, yes, it hurts quite a bit” her smile not wavering as she began to pet the bird on its head. “But it’s one-hundred per cent worth it.”

*****

When they made it back to the vault Missy changed her shirt placing the torn ones on the side of a chair. the Doctor began to clean her wounds, not addressing the fact that they didn't seem to be consistent with the one you would assume to find when dealing with bird talons. They had a nice day aside from that one bit. And he could easily keep an eye on the place for the next few days to make sure she didn't do anything when they were separated. It wasn't like she had her TARDIS. The Doctor froze for a split second, had he locked his TARDIS when he was looking for Missy? At that exact same second the vault doors began to open.

“Nardole” his eyes widened as did Missy’s. She jumped up rushing to her piano, as she pulled down her sleeve and began to play. The Doctor took the first aid kit he was using, throwing everything back in it and shoving it under the sofa. Grabbing one of the puzzle books trying to seem as if he had been there long enough to be comfortable. The door began to open when he noticed that Missy’s torn Jacket was laying there. Quickly grabbing it and shoving that under the sofa as well before Nardole was aware he was in the room.

He looked over to the Doctor. Oh, I didn't know you were going to be here today. If I would have to know that I would have made you bring this.” he dropped the box on the table.

Missy spun around on her chare to face him. “What are you trying to say, you didn't want to see me egg man?” she sported a false frown on as she spoke.

“Are you asking if I want to come in here and have you insult me. Believe it or not, that's something I can pass on,” he said as he eyed the sofa as if something was wrong with it.

“Well that’s to bad, I missed you quite a bit,” Missy said as she grabbed the box. “But if you don't feel the same, perhaps you should just leave.” she began to walk to the box to the far end of the room where her bed was.

“Hold on there,” he said, eyeing Missy as she walked away. She turned in surprise. “You need to open that.” he pointed to the box.

Missy looked at the box then at him. “Why should I, you were the one who orders all of this. If there is anything in here that shouldn’t be that would be on you.”

“Just do it” he insisted. looking over to the Doctor for back up. Missy gave him the same look before he got up, disinterested and slightly put upon.

Putting his hand around Nardole’s shoulder, “you know what, I’ll take care of this, don't worry about it.” he began to lead him to the door as he did this, he went to open his mouth he was unable to say anything over the Doctor. “You know you're right, I should have just told you I was going to be here. So there really is no need for both of us to be here. You can come back later for the stuff she will need for next week. Have a nice day.”

“Maybe it’s not the best of ideas, you know you spending so much time with her,” Nardole spoke a little over a whisper, hoping she wouldn't hear him. “I know it's not my place, but there is a reason you wanted me around. You told me yourself you were worried hope of her become a good person may cloud your judgment.”

The Doctor gave him a weak grin “how am I going to teach her to be good if I never spend time with her. Don't worry, I know when she’s lying and I have it all under control.” with that the two were soon alone once again.

When the Doctor turned around Missy was back on the piano. He went over to the sofa retreating the first aid kit and the mangled jacket. “That was close, I'll take these out before he gets back and knows we were both gone today.”

The music stopped as Missy turned around. “Aw, are you saying you going too? Didn't you want to make sure Nardole didn't get anything for me that wasn't on your pre-approved list?” she began to get up “I can get the box now if you’d like.”

“No, that will not be necessary,” he said, halfway to the door.

Missy watched as he began to open the door, disappointment in her eyes but she didn't say anything else, she just went back to her piano as he left.

She waited a good half hour after he left, eyes never leaving the piano before taking one glance around the room before making her way over to her bed. She opened the box. There was a large throw pillow that took up most of the contents of the box that she tossed aside on the bed. There was a book on crocheting, that she also tossed aside without looking at. At that, her eyes got big with excitement to see a spool of thread with some bits of wires, and a bag loose buttons that were not on the Nardole’s pre-approved list. “I think I'll be needing this soon” She reached for the pillow and the book, placing them back on top and putting the box under her bed.

As she began to stand up she could hear Bill’s voice behind her. “Will you need that stuff before or after you kill me?”

Missy pulled herself-form under the bed, calmly walking back to her piano, “after, there is going to be something I have to deal with, and I have to be assured ill be able to make it threw all of this.” as she began to play the piano she could feel the girl sitting next to her. She didn't seem bothered by her presence with her. “I don't know what you are, but just so you know I'm not bothered by anything I have done in the past so your going to have to work harder than that to achieve whatever it is you are trying to do.”

Bill was now gone as a thin blond girl was now in her place. She rested her head on Missy’s shoulder. “oh? Nothing you have done bothers you? Then why were you so insistent on helping me? Are you saying you didn't say things to me out of guilt of what you did to me?” Missy didn’t look at the girl as she continued to play the piano. “I have no idea what you're talking about, I had you kill your husband because that was a better option than being stuck as a prisoner in the doctor’s TARDIS.”

Lucy looked around the room “and that so much different than what is going on now?” she said with a little bit of amusement in her voice.

A moment later her wife was gone, replaced with another blond that was beaming at her. “You know I looked up to you. All I ever wanted was to be important, to help you with your work. You know I should count myself lucky. It wasn't you who ended up killing me” Sally had so much potential, it was a shame to see her gone so soon.

As soon as the words come out of her mouth she was gone and a tall thing man was now sitting next to her. “You know all you had to do was ask, after everything I did. I would have gladly given my life to make up for it all. For what I did to her. But no, you had to betray me. I thought you were my friend. I trusted you.” Cole, she wanted to defend what she had done, she had no choice, it was the only way. But even that ended up being another in a line of pointless deaths in a line of many.

Just when Missy thought she couldn't take anymore, right when she turned to yell at the thing that thought it could get to her it was gone. She was alone in the vault. Good, she thought, what did she care what some dead people thought. Who she was right here and now was the only thing she cared for. As she began to play once more she notices a drop of water on one of the keys. She looked around but couldn't see anything that it could have come from. That's when she dabbed at her cheek. It had also been wet, a shaking hand made it up to her eye. She had been crying. Was this what he wanted from her? If it was it was something she wanted nothing to do with. She slammed the lid to the piano before going over to her bed. She did her best to fall asleep but all through the night, she could hear the voices of the people she killed echoing threw her head to the point she couldn't tell if she was dreaming or not.

Not being able to sleep she began pulling the box out, slowly pulling the things from it. She would have to talk to him about this. The Master with empathy, he was going to love that. Now she would work on this. She still didn't know why, but there will come a day when she needed it.

#doctor who #Doctor Who fanfiction #missy #The Master #gomez!master #12th doctor #peter capaldi #writing #my writting #the master loves birds #gaz042

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