Just Wanted To Remind Everyone It Wasn't A Drag Queen Performer Who Stomped On The Col Springs Shooter,

i looved the final stranger things episode!! especially when eddie and chrissy got to graduate together and she went to his concert and they made out at the backstage!! just loved it!!

has this been done yet 💀🧼

[Tattoo reference]

"IS THIS THE DEATH OF ART?" Well art has died before. Art died in both the 1980s and 1940s. Art died in the industrial revolution. Art died when they invented the printing press. Art died when we stopped painting on cave walls. Art died when you, personally, stopped finger painting. You can absolutely be a hater though that's part of it

be like Thor, be there to support your loved ones,accept who they are and celebrate them

Who would win, a bunch of strong sorcerers or ONE (1) depressed teen with a dead gf?

why is he shaming people like this

Not Your Hero (an original work of mine)

There are plenty of words a mother could use to describe her son. Dashing, witty, handsome or strong. If someone were to ask Ximena Armstrong, however, only one of her boys would be introduced in such a proud light. If they asked about the other one, they would receive a strained compilation of complaints that he is vile, twisted, or a hateful beast. There are two sides to every story, though. What made a mother turn her back so quickly?

No one has ever gotten close enough to either party to ask for their side. One thing is for certain, Griffin Emiliano is a dangerous man, and Ximena Armstrong is a pathological liar.

Yet on an uneventful day in Betrothal, a group set out to find the answers to all the possible questions anyone could ask. When they find two boys, an anklet and a pile of bodies, there are too many questions to ask and not enough time for the answers before the doors are busted in and everyone is a suspect.

Chapter 1

“I hate to be the bringer of bad news, but if you run any slower, the snails will escape before we do!” A bellowing voice echoes through the halls of the underground chambers. Clambering behind him, a much softer voice rang out. “I’m sorry! This is my first time performing illegal acts, so sorry I can’t keep up with your vigilante lifestyle!” Turning on his heel, Gryffin casts a stone cold glare to his brother. “Don’t forget why we’re in this mess. You thought it would be a good idea to find the anklet, now three guards are dead and the blood is on your hands, kid.” Looking to the floor, Axel shrinks into himself; “I didn’t mean to…” “doesn’t matter the intention. It is the result that everyone will see. Remember that in everything you do.” Before another word was said, a loud crash brings the brothers out of their tension and drives their attention back to the situation at hand. Escaping certain death and bringing the anklet home to their mother, the smartest archeologist in their village. The winding chambers seemed to be getting slimmer and turning into simple tunnels, but with that, the duo noticed that the end of a tunnel was in sight. With reinforcements hot on their trail, Gryffin roars “Ximena will kill us if she finds out people died for that thing.” “Can you just call her mom?” “Not when she won’t call me her son.” “Well maybe if you-” Axel’s voice is cut off with another crash, the barrels in front of them breaking, causing whatever fruits and vegetables to scatter across the floors and stain their shoes more than the mud could. “Not another step, thief. Such a shame that I’ll have to tear such a pretty face to shreds” A masked man with a gentle but firm voice says, backing his words with a sword pointed to Axel’s face. The mask was unsettling at best, sporting a crooked smile with red teeth and white eyes, it’s a wonder the man could see through it. Though unsettling, he was right about Axel’s face. Unlike his brother, his face was pristine and untouched, his pale skin was a perfect target for a sadistic man such as the one in front of him. Questions hung on the tip of the blade as well as the tip of his tongue he realized it was getting closer, but he hadn’t taken a step. “If I can’t take another step, why can you?” “If I can’t take the anklet, why can you?” Comes the quick retort. “Well, technically you could, you just didn’t take that leap that you needed in order to actually grasp it.” With his sharp words and the tension rising, Gryffin grabbed Axel and made a mad dash for the light they witnessed moments earlier. Axel thrashed wildly, kicking the boxes of fruits and vegetables down to make more of a mess for the masked men to clean up later on. “I’m going to drop you if you keep doing that.” He warns with a scowl. “Right, sorry.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was nothing fancy about the village the boys lived in. Past every market on the left there was an alley that the homeless would find themselves digging through, praying to whoever was out there to spare a little mercy for one more day as they cling onto what little humanity they hold. For the homeless that couldn’t fight their way through, the market’s right side would hold the bodies. It seemed everywhere one turned there was another person riddled by disease and famine. When the people in command were brought to the village to speak their grievances, they were brushed off, laughed at and then given one day’s worth of food for the women and children. Proving that they were simply sitting with another government that couldn't care less for the people under their control, but gave the bare minimum so there were still people able to BE controlled. Griffin hated everything about the village. He could never wrap his head around why so many people still lived in such a ghost town. The people were reduced to nothing more than beggars and thieves with nothing to live for, but had the fight and the iron will of soldiers with the world to lose. Under heavy lids, he drags himself into a makeshift shack, calling it a house for them to stay in as the night ticks by. Axel stared at the ceiling, wondering how long it had been since he saw his brother. His once soft features now hardened with the years of war and murder, tanned skin now scarred and hands calloused. Those green eyes that once shined like stars now cut like emeralds that were thrown to the ground by a child throwing a fit. Black hair that was once short and well taken care of has now grown unkempt and matted. “What is going on in that head of yours?” The man in question growled out. “How old are you now, Grif?” “Twenty three, but you didn’t answer my question. What is the issue?” Axel shakes his head quickly. “I was just wondering what went wrong with us… Why did our family fall apart the way it did? Why did you leave? Why-” Griffin cuts him off swiftly “You ask too many questions, Ax. That will be your downfall.” A deep silence settles across the room after Axel nods “mom says that too.” Griffin lets out a heavy sigh after a while and asks something that he sounds like he has been dreading for a long time. “Where is dad?” Axel stands with a speed like no other and starts for the door. “Ax-” “If you can call that monster our dad but can’t call her our mother then you are no brother of mine.” Confused, angry and a little hurt, Griffin throws the closest object at his younger brother’s feet. “Are you gonna tell me what happened or are you going to let me believe that he was a good man and she was the monster, kid?”

Chapter 2

Family Ties, Family Dies

If the smog painted the night sky any darker, Aseria would believe it was night. Her dirty blonde hair nearly dyed black by the smoke that drifted through the alleyways she snuck through them. It was a horrible night to be a citizen of any part of Whiusil. The villages had been torn to shreds during a war between the people and the neighboring powerhouse of Betrothal a year before.

While it seemed so simple to just let others live in peace, peace is not an option once others have better technology.

The people of Whiusil began fixing their wounds and ailments with a metallic substance, Sweoyae, shortened to Swey in the face of enforcement.

Sweoyae took the villages by storm, even people that didn’t need the metal used it to enhance their bodies in ways that were meant to be used for good. People began to create machines that could move and talk, but not have the same for of intelligence of a human.

All around, swey was helping the people of the nation. The men could build the villages, hunt or fish for longer periods of time and the women could stay in the fields to plant longer.Doctors could work longer on the things that typical amounts of swey couldn’t fix without being tired, and the children didn’t worry about broken bones as much as they typically would. In the lines of villages, everyone knows everyone, meaning that everyone shares the work regardless of their status.

As previously assumed, Betrothal caught wind of the neighboring technology and wanted to buy it all from the villages. Why would a line of villages need such materials if they have no one to protect themselves from? Why use it for little things like hunting when one could use it for strength?

Whiusil, barely takes a third of Betrothal’s size, meaning if Betrothal wanted something, they could take it by force, which is exactly how things happened on the night of October 12th.

Betrothal came in with a force unlike anyone had ever seen. Statues broken, people murdered in the streets, flags and buildings set on fire with no remorse.

Once the dust settled and the losses were cut, was no trace of sweoyae taken from Whiusil. It became increasingly obvious as the people of Whiusil began to fight back that the attack was never about sweoyae. The attack on Whiusil was all for the sake of showing off the immense power, threat that Betrothal holds and money that Betrothal could burn to show the steps they could take for power.

“What a night to be alive, huh dear?”

A calm, yet chipper voice says from beside her.

Without much thought, she swung her fist so hard the wooden post behind the alleged attacker dented slightly. A quick kick is swiped under her feet, giving her no time to dodge. As she reaches for the small dagger holstered above her ankle, the voice rings out again.

“It’s me! It’s me!”

A blur of black and white shoots in front of her like lightning, a loud thump hitting the floor a few feet away and the next thing Aseria knows, she is on her knees with one hand caught at the wrist behind her back.

“This is your lieutenant speaking! Stand down!”

With a cringe from the sudden realization, and a wince from the pain, Aseria’s head drops slowly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just instinct! Isn’t that what you taught me? Swing first, questions later!”

The lieutenant chuckles and shakes her head, the rest of her white curls falling out of her helmet. Lieutenant Reyna Muerzo, a terrifying leader that stands at six foot three, was nothing short of sneaky. For her size, she knew how to get around quickly and quietly.

“That I did. I know that is just how you were taught, but you know we’re not in those times anymore. The war ended last May, child.”

Letting a stressed sigh, Aseria sat back up to look up at the woman in front of her. Wordlessly, they both stand to overlook the burning city before them. Another product of a revolution that simply refused to end. The silence between the duo felt deafening, there was nothing to say, nothing to do anymore, nowhere to call home that wasn’t in cinders to return to.

Sifting a hand through her pocket, Reyna found three stray cigarettes and offered one to the dirty blonde beside her. As Aseria declined, she took a match to strike on the side of her boot to light the cancerous stick in her hand.

“I know you lost a lot, we all did. But you have to be willing to let go of the soldier you were, and accept the woman you are. You shouldn’t have had to grow up that fast. This should not have been your battle to fight.”

“That was the only time I felt useful, mom.”

Reyna’s eyes widened. She hadn’t heard that title from her daughter in over a year. Once the war for freedom started, she was nothing more to the country than a feared lieutenant. She regained her composure just as quickly as she was thrown off.

“Then find another way to be useful.”

“I don’t think I can find one so easily.”

“Then let us make one, my child. Where do we start? Rebuild the city?”

Looking up to see the expression on her mother’s face, Aseria sees nothing but a smile adorning her wrinkled features. It shouldn't be a shock for such a strong woman to be such a strong mother, but Aseria was still taken back by the gentleness in her mother’s words after watching her take countless lives for the sake of their freedom.

The silence feels tense for a moment, but Reyna moves to her motorcycle that was discarded at the beginning of their conversation. As she puts her helmet on the ground, she looks over her shoulder gently.

“I do not blame you for throwing your sword the way you did;”

Reyna starts to lift the machine, a gentle whirring noise coming from it, as if it was arguing with her. She fiddles with the kickstand as Aseria takes a sharp breath, unsure of where their conversation was going. She knew from the start she was nothing more than a combat medic, she was told from the very first battle between Betrothal and Whiusil to only save the people with mechanical enhancements on their bodies. She couldn’t help but wonder if her mother was angry at her for running away from her position as a medic.

“I know you were scared. I did the same thing when I was handed my first sword. I just wish they would have kept their promise.”

A sigh of relief left Aseria as she realized her mother was more worried than upset with her, but when she looked at her mother again, she could tell something was wrong. The way Reyna leaned against the motorcycle told her everything she needed to know.

She was tense, nervous like she told a secret she wasn't supposed to tell. Lost in her own thoughts, the lieutenant begins to mutter to herself, ways things could’ve shifted in their favor, things she could’ve done differently to avoid her only child going to war at the age of twenty, losing part of her own arm and more. It wasn’t until a hand was on her shoulder that she was drawn out of her thoughts quickly.

“..Mom? What promise?”

A deep sigh settles in her chest as she nods, more to herself than the confused woman in front of her. Taking her hand carefully, Reyna begins leading her daughter to the ruins of the city in front of them.

“I think it’s time I tell you a little more about the man your father was, more importantly, who everyone thought your father was.”

Aseria turns to point out the motorcycle her mother was just leaning on behind them.

“What about your bike?”

“He will follow.”

Without hesitation, the vehicle lights up and roars to life as if it was leaning on the stand in the first place. Aseria's eyes widened but set quickly, silently cursing herself for forgetting that sweoyae was also used in machines, not just humans.

“Maude, come. We are going home.”

Just some trashes in my gallery–