#axed me a question

[loregoddess]

so I might be having a blast playing Rebirth, but I'm still thinking Octo2 stuff, and just realized bc of the Dolcinaea fight I could see the weaknesses for every character (except Agnea) and since I can turn just about any random detail into a "hmm, does this mean anything" thought exercise, here's some observations (minor story spoilers):

Throne, Osvald, and Partitio have the fewest weaknesses at 3. This makes sense for Throne and Osvald (professional thief/assassin raised to be a thief/assassin, Throne can't have any openings if she hopes to survive; Osvald relied on his keen observation to Shawshank Redemption himself out of prison, so of course he'd have fewer openings bc he's always keeping an eye on things around him). But Partitio surprised me--although it does make some sense, he had to keep his wits about him to become the best merchant in Oresrush, and he's wicked smart (honestly, Ori's the only one who ever seems able to genuinely sneak up on him, and that makes sense given that she's, y'know, Ori).

Hikari has no weaknesses to weapons of any sort, and only has elemental weaknesses as a result. He is not weak to light or dark though (a reference to Shadow's Hold/Light's Radiance or else his bloodlines perhaps?). On the flipside Osvald has no weaknesses to elements and only weaknesses to weapons (all the weapons he's weak to--polearms, daggers, and bows--are "ranged" in some sense, suggesting his magic maybe makes it impossible to get close enough to attack him).

Throne and Temenos continue to act as foils to each other, with Throne having only one elemental weakness to light, and Temenos having only one elemental weakness to dark. Throne's only two weapon weaknesses are axes and bows, which sort of makes sense (either someone has to get close enough to strike her quickly or they have to attack from a very far distance to get the drop on her; there are also interestingly the hunter's base weapon set, so the only way to stop a thief is to hunt them; also there's a ranged bow counter to her close-range sword and a close-range axe counter to her ranged dagger). Temenos's weapon weaknesses include swords, daggers, and axes, which are interestingly all "close range" weapons to some degree (Temenos never lets anyone get too close to him emotionally, so it makes sense the only way to actually harm him would be to "get close" to him; swords and daggers are also the thief's base weapon set, and given how much assassination goes on in his story, it makes sense he too would be vulnerable to Throne's trade weapons).

Partitio's only elemental weakness is ice (makes sense given how arid his hometown is). He has a weakness to swords and staves, both close range weapons to contrast the longer-ranged polearm and bow weapons he uses.

Castti's only weapon weakness are bows (a long-range contrast to her shorter-ranged axe), but her elemental weaknesses are what's really interesting. She has a weakness to fire (this makes sense, given that she has an ice-based skill, and a lot of water symbolism in her story arc), but also wind and dark--the two key elements needed to create and spread the purple rain that nearly killed her.

Ochette's the only character with a balance of two weapon weaknesses and two elemental weaknesses: polearms and staves (a longer-ranged weapon to counter her short-ranged axe, and a close-ranged weapon to counter her long-ranged bow); and fire and wind (wind makes sense given that it's the usual weakness to thunder, which is the only elemental attack she has access to in her base skillset, but her weakness to fire is more interesting--is it because she lives in a forest, which are historically susceptible to fires? or because she lives surrounded by water, and fire is the natural opposite?)

Hikari is the only character weak the thunder, just as Throne and Temenos are the only characters weak to light and dark respectively. The other major elements all have two travelers weak to them: Ochette and Castti to fire, Partitio and Hikari to ice, and Castti and Hikari to wind.

Likewise, every weapon is strong against at least two characters, with the exception of bows which are strong against three characters. Swords: Partitio and Temenos, Polearms: Ochette and Osvald, Daggers: Osvald and Temenos, Axes: Throne and Temenos, Bows: Castti, Throne, and Osvald, Staves: Ochette and Partitio.

I dunno if there's any significance to the pattern of: every weapon is strong against two characters except one is strong against three, and every element is strong against two characters except for three elements that are only strong against one character each. But it is some fancy balancing for as far as numbers go.

Anyhow I wasn't going anywhere with this, these were just some interesting observations I wanted to jot down instead of going to bed like I should have half an hour ago.

[gmanmedias]

🌀 🌀 🌀

🐰 🐰 🐰

🌀 🌀 🌀

[greenerteacups]

Re: your recent response about Draco wearing blue - fashion is not something I tend to pick up on (or understand very well generally), so I’m always curious to hear more about it! Do you have any other fashion thoughts you want to elaborate on? You’ve talked a bit about Draco and Hermione’s fashion, what about Harry or Ron?

Aw, yeah! I'll preface this by saying that the following is a combination of canon and headcanon; some of this is evidenced in the text of the fic, but some of it probably isn't, it's just something that's in my head when describing them.

Harry's pretty small in Lionheart, as a consequence of chronic malnutrition in childhood mixed with a genetic predisposition to it (James is canonically a short king, cf. "Hairy Little Christmas.") That means a lot of his muggle clothes don't fit well, being hand-me-downs from Dudley; in contrast, his school robes, which we know he got tailored at Malkin's, seem to fit normally (i.e., Harry fits better in the magical world, it's his home, it suits him). In general, Harry's fashion is "adequate, but not great," which makes sense; he never had the chance to choose his own clothes growing up, and then he went to boarding school with a uniform, so when would he develop a sense of style? Honestly, it's a relief for him to have one fewer decisions to make.

Like Ron, Harry's uniform isn't super meticulous, but he seems to make an effort. He does his tie and keeps his shirt clean, etc. (which makes sense; Harry cares about belonging here). When we see Harry out of uniform, he's usually wearing baggy t-shirts and jeans, which are the least nice clothes you could give to someone while still expecting them to last; they're also clothes that fit loose and hang long on his body (very late-80's + early 90's).

Ron, on the other hand, doesn't have any qualms about belonging in the magical world; he was born to it. This manifests as a laziness with his robes. He doesn't bother with his tie as much, if at all, and when he does it's not the right knot (Draco points it out in Book 3); since he's the brother of not one but two Head Boys, we have to assume that's deliberate, or that at some extent his lack of attention is a deliberate manifestation of something. Ron is youngest boy, he has self-esteem issues, and the way this manifests is by Ron never asking for anything and then getting sour when nothing goes his way. He doesn't try, so he can't feel bad when he fails. Besides which, when Ron does try to dress nice, it backfires; it's either an uncomfortable costume, like in "Operation Prewett," or it's a horrible hand-me-down, e.g. the Yule Ball outfit. Contrast him with the other Weasley boys, many of whom — especially the three oldest — have their own cultivated aesthetics, because they all know who they are. Ron is figuring that out, and it manifests in stylistically messy ways.

[oldtvandcomics]

Me, explaining to the people working at official government-funded queer organizations why Captain America is totally bisexual:

[grandwretch]

everyday i think about about how k. a. applegate was like im going to write a child soldier who is completely brainwashed by his militaristic society and he believes in eugenics and is an asshole and im going to make you love him more than you have ever loved a fictional character because to you he is everything that he hates and then because love is not enough to deprogram what his society has done to him im going to kill him for it

[mittenhater]

i've been seeing a lot of posts about the way children don't get treated as human beings deserving of respect but i want to talk about the way so many of these negative experiences children have with adults come at the hands of people whose literal job is to deal with children (parents, teachers, healthcare workers etc.)

[rainboq]

Say Chloe manages to get out of Arcadia Bay with Rachel, make a new life for herself, and start healing from everything that happened since William's death. She makes it impossible for anyone she knew beforehand to contact her, not wanting to hear from Joyce or David ever again, and figuring that Max has long since moved on from her. A couple of years later, she stumbles across Max again, and learns that her disappearance actually sent Max into massive depression. How badly does Chloe take this?

Ohhhh, good ask, glad I turned anons back on for this one.

I think Chloe's knee-jerk reaction is for sure mixed, a bit of 'see, that's how it felt' and 'oh shit I hurt, Max'. I don't think Chloe really has much of an ability to stay mad at her old best friend because she knows that if Max had a choice, she would have stayed. She left because it was 2008. The recession was hitting hard, and if the Caulfield's weren't foreclosed on, they almost certainly lost work because of it.

The part Max fucked up was not staying in touch, but Chloe also kinda gets that; no matter how much it hurt. Max was never the most talkative or forward person without Chloe there to back her up, and she knows how Max shuts down when things get tough. Yes, Max absolutely let her down, but at the same time it's understandable for Chloe even if it was a bitter disappointment.

But there's the kicker in your scenario, Max did try to reach out and find her, only to get static. The moment Chloe learns that? She's going to feel like a giant heel, especially if Max has stories of how her leaving impacted others. Shit, I can't imagine what Steph would be feeling if Chloe cut contact with her, and she'd definitely be a lead Max would chase down in her search.

I don't think it would be enough for her to reach out to Joyce again, that bridge was pretty damn well burnt if she cut all ties with her and never spoke to her again, but she'd definitely want to apologize to Max. That said, I think Max would also forgive her. Hearing the story of how bad David was to her would have Max nodding along and understanding.

Rachel, on the other hand, would be very interesting. If there was anyone in the world who could threaten their relationship, it's this tiny little freckled hipster. But at the same time, she's cute, sweet, and Rachel's curious about this girl who still has a hold on Chloe's heart even after all these years.

Honestly this sounds like a compelling setup for AmberPricefield anon, I hope you write it.

[kits-ships]

📷 , 👕, and 🩼 for the S/I ask game!! You pick

the ione brainrot continues <3

📷 What are some images that sum up your S/I’s aesthetic?

ok ok i wont go with all purple this time !!

her favorite animals, food, places, and what i imagine her home to look like :3

🩼 Do you have any S/I’s that die in their story?

yes ofc i do! (says the person who made the ask game shes answering)

varina (star wars): stabbed by anakin

myla (star wars): stabbed by her daughter

olive (dw): not canonically, but i kill her off sometimes

nilla (dbz): beam through chest :/ but theres probably more

vivi cade (oc): dies in a fire

willow (minecraft): killed with an axe, dies of a broken heart later

malice (symbiote): exorcised by dr. strange

assumedly dead: briar (old age), cain (old age), zolana (canon - old age), vivi roma (presumed dead by family)

👕is under the cut bc its kinda long :3

👕What are some other outfits your S/I wears throughout their story? Show us some examples of clothes they wear!

ok i am NOT making this easy for myself.

its so hard to find purple kimonos or even yukatas online buT. i can make this work

kimonos / yukatas (kimonos mostly)

some haori

some michiyuki (more outerwear)

obi !

and juban! (they go under kimonos)

[hostradio]

he  will  GENUINELY  consider  sparing  someone  if  they  manage  to  crack  a  decent  enough  joke!  such  a  shame  they  never  want  to  try.

[gmanmedias]

I WON’T LEAVE A WITNESS, SO MUCH FOR A MERRY CHRISTMAS

🎄 🎄 🎄

🪓 🪓 🪓

⛸️ ⛸️ ⛸️

silver scream: 11/13

[banisheed]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Siobhan’s house PARTIES: Siobhan (@banisheed) & Manuel, Ángel, Rubi and Yiri of Los Sombras Del Sur (written by @muertarte) CONTENT: Eye trauma tw SUMMARY: Siobhan has some visitors.

“We’re just gonna hit up this bitch’s house and then call it a night. Saw the fucker speed their damn way over here the other night.” Manuel was in charge of the group for the night. He’d hoped it would’ve been Efrain or Aracely, but neither would take the bait. Taking lead was just so much work. Sticking to the background was what he preferred, but Master wouldn’t have it. 

With Manuel’s unmatched skill to observe and track, he was one of the first names tossed in for leaders. It was supposed to be an honor. That’s what everyone told him. Having Master see you was the peak of any clan member’s career, but Manuel could care less, honestly. He just wanted to go home and not waste time tracking a nobody. Why the hell was this Metzli important anyway? Why did Master want them returned to him, alive? 

Whatever, he thought. At least they were allowed to kill and feed on anyone else in their way. That included the lady that lived in the giant ass home they were standing in front of. After killing her, stealing everything inside was next on Manuel’s to-do list. She had to be loaded. It wasn’t like Master paid them very much even though they did all the work. He’d take what he could get. 

Knock, knock, knock. He breathed idly, rolling his weight from front to back as he put on his most charming smile. No need to blow their cover before the big reveal. They just had to lure her out or get themselves invited in. Neither should be too difficult to pull off. 

Siobhan groaned, rubbing crust from the corner of her red eyes. Apparently, worrying about her friend didn’t make for a good night’s sleep, and when she tried to remind herself that she was an uncaring instrument of Fate, all she could do was stare up at her ceiling, thinking about nothing. When Metzli told her that they’d be out with a friend today, she thought it was the perfect time to nap on the couch. And then, the knocking. She thought about ignoring it but the dog started up, barking wildly at the door. She groaned again, rolling off the bed and tugging her silk robe tighter around her body. She wanted to keep herself decent, even if she was still largely nude. At least nothing was dangling out. 

“Coming,” she called out, shooing the dog away. When she pulled the door open, a sharp chill trickled down her skin and she pulled her body close to the door, making sure none of her was sticking out beyond the threshold of her house. For a moment, Siobhan scowled and then, the expression morphed into a pleasant but thin smile. The only thing that stopped her from popping the undead from where she stood was the thought that this man might have been Chuy; she didn’t ask Metzli what he looked like. But it was within reason that if her friend was being chased by an evil vampire cult and now an undead showed up at her door, it was probably a vampire from said cult. 

“Hello,” Siobhan said, wondering why her religion of Fate didn’t exactly have any iconography. She thought she could remember her mother saying it was improper to apply symbols to Fate, a nebulous force beyond mortal comprehension, but she couldn’t be sure if the sentiment wasn’t one born out of her own musings instead. Anything that might have applied under the concept of religion was lost to her anyway, as she stumbled out of Saol Eile with nothing but tattered clothes. Regardless, she did have some garlic in the kitchen… somewhere. “Did you need something?”

Manuel sent the rest of the posse into their hiding spots. Ángel all but leapt into a bush, Rubi quietly made her way up the side of the house, and Yiri literally just…stepped behind a tree. Manuel rubbed at his face with frustration and slipped a piece of gum into his mouth to give himself something to do to appear normal. The icy sensation filled his mouth, and he chewed annoyingly loud as he grinned when the door finally opened.  

Que chido. 

The lady was gorgeous. Did beauty have any correlation with how tasty someone is? That was a theory Manuel needed to test out, as soon as possible. “Buenos días, señora.” He said with a notable accent, still chewing loudly with a smug look on his face. “We are looking for our friend. Very tall, very weird.” More chewing, more grinning. “Got an arm missing.” That’s when he chuckled, finding it particularly funny thinking about how stupid a person could be to have their master rip off their arm. How could anyone who had that happen be special? Whatever. He had a job to do and there was no way he’d end up with a similar fate. 

“Now, mira, señora,” Leaning onto the doorframe, Manuel’s smile turned wicked and his eyes went dark. “All’s you gotta do is let me and my friends inside.” He whistled, and two vampires joined him from their respective places. Rubi remained in place. A precautionary measure. She’d leap down if they needed her. “We’ll look for them and if we find anything, take them back home. Safe and sound. Well…” Manuel bounced his head side to side, taunting. “Depending on how much they fight. But they’ll be alive!” The rest of the crew laughed and nodded along, red flashing in their eyes. 

“Let us in. Or we can wait. You gotta come out sometime, and listen, we’re not the only group. Choose wisely.”

The description sent a shock through Siobhan’s spine, forcing her to straighten herself. Her grip tightened on the doorknob, hidden on the other side of the door. They were looking for Metzli, and they didn’t seem to have a high opinion of them if they were so brazen. Two more vampires joined in and the chill Siobhan had been feeling turned into a freeze. She wanted to yell that she wasn’t letting them anywhere near Metzli, she wasn’t going to let them take her friend; it all felt a little too dramatic for her tastes, and far too heroic. Instead, she settled back into a pleasant smile. Glancing down at her feet, she made sure her body was safe inside her house, all tucked in. “Sorry.” Siobhan looked at the vampire and his friends again. “I’m not entirely sure I know who you’re talking about, but I can let you in for a chat. Just…oh, what are your names? You and your friends? I’m not in the habit of inviting strangers in, but if you told me your names, I could reconsider. I—do you promise you’ll be honest with me? You need to promise you’ll be honest; there’s been a string of men coming to homes saying one thing and then doing another.” Her finger traced the edge of her door. 

She had no holy water; it was hubris, she never thought she needed it. Maybe there was a cross somewhere, but that was doubtful. She did have a rather sharp axe that wanted playtime. Siobhan sighed; the first bout of fun she’d have in this cursed town and she wasn’t even prepared for it. She’d have to scream and screaming was just so basic. It didn’t occur to her then that Metzli wasn’t safe here, that if these fools knew where they were, then the rest did. The thing about vampires was that there were always so many of them; more would come. Her mind flashed with images of vampires turning to dust; she’d remember to be concerned about her friend later. 

“You want a promise, vieja?” Manuel chuckled, it quickly turning into a collection of laughter as the others joined in. “Esta loca esta.” The group laughed harder, and Rubi had to hold back her laughter with a slap of her hand to her face. “Fine, we promise we’ll be honest with you. Just hurry up and reconsider now.” He waved at the woman, irritation mixing with Manuel’s humor enough to not get the better of him. There were so many things he wanted to do, which included tearing into that beautiful neck of hers and finding every valuable thing in her house.

“So,” Manuel squeezed the trim on the side of the doorframe, splintering it with his strength. “You gonna let us in?” Eyes flashed red, and he whistled sharply to signal to Rubi. She jumped down, landing with a dull thud next to Manuel. Her smile was too wide and crazed, and she snapped her teeth wildly at the woman they were going to eat soon. 

“Yeah. Córrale.”

“So, eager.” Siobhan clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth. “I bet you don’t last very long, do you?” The grin that split her face was almost inhumanly wide, curving up her cheeks and pushing at the corners of her clear, brown eyes. The binds of the promise clamped down; the vampire couldn’t make a promise on behalf of someone else, the ‘we’ in his sentence applied to just him, but it applied. “So what’s your name?” She asked. “And what are their names?” The vampires were confident; they weren’t used to losing. She ducked into her house for a moment, leaving the door open in a brazen display of confidence; they couldn’t get in anyway. When she came back, she held the axe firmly in her two hands. “None of you are Chuy, right?” She asked. “I hope you’ve had a fun unlife but that handsome one-armed person you’re looking for is my friend and I’d really like to be their friend for a few hundred years more.”

She stepped past the threshold of her house with one foot, grinning. “You lot better make it fun or I’m asking for a refund.” Siobhan loosened the hinge of her jaw and screamed. Birds flew off from the distant trees and her house shuddered, though, no glass broke. Siobhan had a skill for aiming, she’d always been good at it:  screams, knives, axes, insults. She could have popped one of the vampires, brushing dead organs from the inside, and leave the rest intact without ever splitting a single vase or mirror in her house, if she wanted to. She didn’t want to. What she wanted was to play.

Siobhan stepped out, closing the door behind her. She spun the axe around in her hands and stared at the group. “Why don’t you all be good little vampries and start trying to kill me—I want to work for it.” 

“¡Cállate, vieja! ¡No me hables aha si!” Anger seethed out of Manuel’s mouth, and Rubi snapped her teeth ferally, like some guard dog. She’d do the same for Master, for any person he deemed worthy to be a leader. That was her place as a pawn, just like everyone else that was his. She looked to Manuel, and then back to the woman, waiting for his response and any orders he’d give. Instead, he just let his anger keep slipping. “You got some fucking nerve.” The trim splintered further, and if he couldn’t go inside, he’d bring the outside world to the puta. 

“You’re gonna—” But before he could throw the wood into the home, Manuel’s lips moved and his tongue danced without his permission. It started out as a small tug. He fought against it, knowing if he spilled any details, he’d be royally fucked, but it happened anyway. “I’m Manuel,” Rubi hit him on the shoulder, along with Ángel and Yiri. “That’s Ángel, that’s Rubi, and that’s Yiri.” He paused, swallowing and slapping his hand to his mouth in hopes of preventing anything else from spilling. His eyes widened as this nobody dared speak of their Master so candidly. Chuy was a nickname, and no one called him that besides his friends, and they were nothing close to that. “None of us are him, and you will not refer to him as that! Master Jesus is above you, you stupid bitch!” Anger tipped over, and Manuel punched the house with enough force to break the siding. 

When the woman walked away, the whole group convened, badgering the team leader for what he’d done. Try as he might to explain, they weren’t listening, already making plans to report him to Master, much to Manuel’s chagrin. “You’re not listening! She did some…thing…” He trailed off, seeing their opponent bring back a fucking axe before her face contorted like a demon and a scream bursted everyone’s eardrums. 

What the fuck was she?

Fuck…fuck! All sound muffled, a ring piercing through while Manuel’s body went into autopilot. He was the first to spring into action, sprinting toward the woman with his knife. She swung once, then twice, and when she readied her next attack, that’s when Manuel took his chance with a tackle.

Siobhan wasn’t done testing the weight of the axe when her body tumbled down to the ground, the back of her skull knocked against one of the stone steps by her door and a sharp pain lightninged around her head. For a moment her vision popped with black dots and she felt alive; the last forty years had been all empty walls and memories that stacked on top of eachother like wet fish, flopping and slipping away. This was tangible, this was real and it hurt and in that pain, Siobhan felt more like herself than anything else. Pain she knew. Pain she liked. Pain was her kingdom. Her mouth cracked into a grin and she tightened her grip around the axe in one hand and with the other, jabbed the butt of her palm under Manuel’s chin, knocking his teeth together. When his grip slackened for just a moment, she rolled out from under him and pulled her axe up. 

“Some poetry,” Siobhan said and brought her axe down. The sharp, heavy metal easily cleaved through Manuel’s arm; bone snapped and a chunk of his humerus jutted out of his severed arm. “Aw, I missed.” She’d been trying to get it just like Metzli’s—an homage she thought the vampire would either appreciate or really hate—but she’d aimed too far up; his new stump was smaller than theirs. She swung the axe over her head to try on the other arm when her body plummeted to the ground again. This time, her axe slipped from her fingers and landed unceremoniously in the soft ground. 

“Ow.” She groaned, pins and needles shooting across her arm as she landed. Her shoulder popped—she thought that was funny, there was a literal ‘pop’ sound—and an aching warmth blanketed her. Bone grinded against bone. “You lot really love a tackle. Have you considered rugby?” Her voice was chipper and clear; whatever was happening inside of her body didn’t exist outside of it. Her smile never wavered. 

If Manuel had been whatever that crazy woman was, he was sure his scream would’ve blown hers out of the water. He wailed in agony, rolling from side to side and only catching a glimpse of his arm for a brief moment before it turned to dust. Eyes widened in abject horror, death the closest it had been since Manuel was turned. That woman was fucking nuts. What was she? Could she be stopped? Given how she landed with an audible pop with Yiri’s impact, he deduced that, yes, she probably could be. Manuel’s pain was just making him catastrophize any good strategy out of his mind before it could settle. 

“Rubi!” He barked, groaning as he let Yiri continue her barrage of blows to the screamer. Ángel joined soon after, crawling for the axe while blood trickled out of his ears. He was shaky and fell over before he could get to it, but given how shaky la gritona was, Manuel was confident his two subordinates could manage. His main concern, for the moment, was Rubi. She hadn’t so much as moved since the shockwave that ravaged their ear drums. “Rubi!” He called out again, her body unmoving. Chest tightened as anxiety coiled around Manuel, and he shuddered at the icy sensation trickling down his spine. Rubi was so eerily still. 

“Come on, you idiot.” Shaking her, he forced her body to roll over. That’s when she finally blinked, expression turning into horror. “Manuel! Manuel! No puedo oír! No puedo…!” She screamed, making Manuel’s ears ache and his shoulders drop. The motherfucker had ruptured her eardrums. Fuck! He rose rapidly to his feet, leaving Rubi behind to scream into the void while he made another attack. Grabbing the axe, Manuel swung it up into air and slammed it toward la gritona, not caring if he hurt anyone else on the way.

Siobhan grinned as the flesh of her cheeks pressed into the sharp corners of her teeth and she felt it: the hard ridges of a fist against the bones of her face. She’d always loved the inexplicable and sudden awareness of her inner anatomy. Each strike stirred pain from its long dormant slumber in her body and carried reminders of the pieces of herself that were too often numb; her rows of perfect teeth slicing the pink insides of her cheek with each punch; the muscles of her abdomen that contracted reflexively and all of their silly, Latin names rushing into her mind; the sweet, metallic taste of her blood, which filled her mouth and poured from her nose, otherwise pumping thanklessly through her body. It felt good to be alive. 

Her vision, blurred at the edges, wasn’t wholly useless yet. Siobhan saw the glint of her axe’s blade and the reflection of her bruised face with its twisted grin. Metal was a hungry substance; she thought of the standard kitchen knife and how greedily it chopped and how it begged to be sharpened so it could chop again and again. Metal was always like that, it always wanted to be used; when it was spent, dripping with filth, how readily it could be cleaned. She stabbed her good arm forward and shoved her assailant back, feeding her body to the hungry axe that Manuel held. The metal cracked through her vertebrae and pushed her sternum out the other end. It couldn’t pass all the way through the body but Siobhan knew it wanted to, she saw it in the way it pushed Yiri’s body, her sternum hanging out of her like a flip switch. Siobhan rolled out of the way as the vampire crashed down with an unsatisfied axe in her back. Bringing her a leg up to her chest, Siobhan clasped her arms around her knee and pulled back, sliding her bone back into its socket. As she rose, it still dangled limply at her side, and she felt herself missing the acute sense of misalignment, but at least she had two arms--one more than Manuel. 

Her body was a series of fires; her face was a burning swell of meat. Giddy, Siobhan skipped over to the wailing woman; a creature after her own heart. “Do you want to see something beautiful?” she asked through swollen lips. She pressed her palms to either side of the woman’s head, curling her fingers into her face. “Mind the ears.” She stabbed the tips of her fingers into the woman’s eyes. Any normal person would have ran now, which is why Siobhan didn’t give her time to: she screamed again. 

The pressure of Siobhan’s voice, directly mostly at Rubi, boiled and popped the insides of her body in a rushing chorus like faucet. Her skin bulged and tore open, expelling shards of bone and thick, blackened globs of viscera. Rubi’s head didn’t so much pop off her ruined body as her body just lacked the will to stay together. For a moment--a glorious expanse of time--Siobhan held her decapitated head in her hands, bloated and unrecognizable, and then she was dust. For another moment--a less glorious session--Siobhan considered that it wasn’t very feminist of her to have dealt with the women first. For that, she was sincerely sorry. 

What Manuel was witnessing was pure madness. Worse than anything Master Jesus could inflict, worse than anything he’d ever seen Master Eloy execute. He shuddered at the sight of the woman rising despite the very real pain she should’ve been in. She wasn’t human, and she almost certainly wasn’t a vampire. Manuel was inclined to believe that she was something else entirely; maybe even a demon. The way her jaw unhinged and her scream tore apart flesh and eardrums was enough evidence, even if his answer might be wrong. She was dangerous, and they all needed to run. 

“Rubi!” He called out, looking every which way to find his partner. Blood was in the air, twisting all thoughts into urges, hunger constricting both stomach and throat. Manuel groaned, searching and searching through the spots of black in his vision, until he landed on a sight he wished he hadn’t. Pangs of hunger ceased, overtaken with nausea. 

Rubi was being torn apart, with only the woman’s violent shriek as her weapon. “No! Stop!” But it was too late. The sound ripped through the air, dust swaying in the wind and meeting Manuel’s  tongue until he was in a coughing fit. There was nothing left of his Rubi, and Yiri and Ángel were looking to him for direction. They were surprised to be abandoned, quickly following suit and realizing the disadvantage they were in. Even with an axe in the gritona’s back, she proved dangerous, and they weren’t strong enough to handle her. 

“Fuck this!” Manuel burst into a sprint, charging away and abandoning his position as the leader. He never wanted the position in the first place, and if the rest wanted to die for a damn traitor, then so fucking be it, but not Manuel. He had some sort of self-preservation left in him, fighting for control from the thrall Master had over him. From the distance they were at, Manuel was confident he could get away and return with an explanation that Master Jesus would accept. Surely death wasn’t the only answer he’d take. At least, that was what he hoped. 

They always ran; that was why Siobhan didn’t like revealing the exploding trick too early, it always made people run away. Siobhan sighed, strutting towards the man she hadn’t harmed yet, as he ran--more like a drunk horse galloping across tar--she aimed a short, tight scream at him and watched as he tumbled down into an unconscious heap. She did the same to the woman, though she wasn’t getting far with the axe stamped into her like a flag on a mountain. She let Manuel run across her acres of lush green fields, fantasizing about the speech he’d deliver to his master. What words would he use to describe her? Though it was unlikely, she hoped ‘sexy’ fell somewhere in the mess of adjectives he’d use. 

The part of her mind that was critical--smart, intentional and strategic--had taken a long sabbatical with her common sense, her manners and, strangely, her ability to cook an egg. Siobhan missed eggs. Manuel’s body was a dot on the horizon, quickening away like a fly on a mission. He could bring more people; Siobhan thought that would be fun. He could out her as a banshee; and wouldn’t that be interesting? He could hire someone to come into the night and slit her throat and oh, she wanted someone to try it just so she could remind herself of why her strategic mind could afford a vacation. 

Instead, she reminded herself with the bodies of Yiri and Ángel, who she chained up and dismembered bone by bone--at least, she got through the phalanges and into the metacarpals and then realized it was boring and with a yawn, popped their bodies into unrecognizable particles that carried across the air and scattered into the fields. Siobhan wished Manuel would come back, preferably with more bodies and ones that didn’t turn into disappointing dust at the end of their pathetic unlife. 

Mostly, though, Siobhan couldn’t wait to tell Metzli about all the fun she’d had. 

[positivelyapunovexponent-good]

I am visiting extended family and experiencing a spectrum of shrimp emotions both positive and negative. Positive because I love them and love spending time with them. Negative for reasons I feel so self conscious about I can’t bring myself to explain them outside of the tags even in my anonymous personal blog. I can’t sleep even though I’m exhausted. every night I’m pacing from anxiety as I try to figure out which parts of me to be honest about and which to conceal for the sake of not? Deeply hurting the people I care about? Even though I haven’t done anything wrong so if they are hurt that’s not on me.

[bardigrade]

*puts cat on your keyboard*

me @ the cat: are you going to write my fic for me

[the-d12rose]

Hewnblade, Pride of the Grovekeeper! An evolving magic item I had the pleasure of illustrating for a commission. Comms are open if you want one, drop me a DM!

[real-steel-inquisitor]

Wbheres my fuckinh brother

I don't know who that is, but statistically, probably murdered 🤷‍♂️🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓

[rainboq]

Fellow fan of educated!Chloe here. One of my main reasons for loving the concept is that Chloe getting a college education is a massive slap in the face to David and Joyce's assumption that she'd never amount to anything, not to mention it might force them to rethink whether or not Chloe was truly the problem in their household. To say nothing of the blow to David's masculine pride when Chloe starts earning more than he does.

Spite is definitely a powerful motivator that I could see leading to Chloe choosing to go back to school. Honestly the biggest barriers for her doing so are the costs and her own self confidence. Chloe's going to have catch up on years of schooling before she can even think about applications, but she's perfectly capable of it. She just needs to want to and have the support system in place to do it.

A lot of people forget that Chloe's probably the smartest person in whatever room she's in, but after William's death she lost any ability to focus and apply herself because all her energy was focused on avoiding the pain. Given the right opportunities, she might even become Dr. Price.

There's also the question of it any members of her family went to college before. We don't see any degrees up in the Price house from what my memory recalls, so I can see William being so excited that his daughter might be the first member of he family to get her education. Which probably only made it harder for Chloe to engage with school after his death. When she gets that diploma though? She definitely whispers something to the effect of 'I did it, dad'.