Single Father Gets Into Fight With Local Teen And His Undead Girlfriend, Loses Miserably

So fine and for WHATTTT

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Have YORself a merry little Christmas 🖤🥀

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i sincerely apologise for the person im about to become when arcane season 2 finally drops

NO BECAUSE THIS BROKE ME EVEN MORE..SO HERE

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.”

I know everyone loves the Corinthian because he’s creepy/sucks/fucks etc but I’m into this character because he’s a poster boy for conditional acceptance.

He’s created to fulfill one purpose. If he doesn’t contort himself into the correct behaviour, he’s scrapped to be remade and remade until he acts as intended.

Morpheus doesn’t seem to have a personal relationship with him like he does with other Dreaming characters. When he kills the Corinthian, Morpheus’ “I made you poorly” speech dismisses that the nightmare is an individual in control of his actions.

Lucienne visibly dislikes him but is quick to forgive Fiddler who also defected. It’s like the Corinthian is treated more like a project or a weapon than an entity of the Dreaming.

I don’t think his ability to attract people affords him any lasting power either. People crave him, his body or his success but it’s a self-interested infatuation. People don’t love him for his personality because he doesn’t have one; it’s polite and forgettable and adapted to attract whoever he’s targeting. He fills the spaces in between people’s real relationships and while maybe it’s fun, ultimately he’s forgotten.

And can we talk about the second Corinthian being obsessed with learning about his previous iterations? That’s fucked up and dystopian.

He’s a really tragic character. Also a horrible violent maniac.

FUSEHOUND NATION!!!!!!!

BONUS:

@fusedhound (aka boyf) whomst I met bc of fusehound

IF GOD HATES GAYS WHY DO WE KEEP WINNING!!!!

August will be filled with hope.

August will be filled with love.

August will be filled with trust.

August will be filled with peace.

August will be filled with positivity.

August will be filled with healthier connections.

He’s talking about his new campaign… 🥰