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37-children-of-the-dreams · 3 years

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Chapter #34: Bad (Blood) Batch

Crosshair got to meet Bo-Katan and now it's Korkie's turn to meet the Bad Batch. Also, IDK on how to strikethrough a title text. Sorry.

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The next planet looked dense and populated. It wasn't dense like Corusant, but it was populated enough that they know there were bounties abound. The wait time for a hangar wasn't as bad as the last one. It gave enough time for Korkie to work his Force visions and they had an adequate hangar to stay at.

When Korkie got up from the visions, Crosshair and Fennec were checking their weapons. Crosshair saw the rifle might need a new scope and knew they do not have another scope around.

"There's a huge bounty here," Korkie said as they kept checking. "It's locally known and the prizes they say are big."

"How big are we talking?" Fennec asked. She checked enough that her rifle was ready to end a small battalion.

"Big enough to buy an entire army."

"We don't need an army," Crosshair said. "But I would like a few upgrades."

"We should have taken some of the rifles from the basement," Korkie lamented.

"No. I'm not making your former aunt go insane and try to annihilate us because we took some of your ancestors' weapons."

"Well, they were still his," Fennec pointed out. "I mean, he had the rights to take them before Bo-Katan kicked him out."

Crosshair rolled his eyes as he went to open the ship's entrance. He would have liked some of the blasters Korkie showed him during their practice, but he felt the eyes of a thousand Kryzes judging him for possibly firing their blasters wrong. He looked at the picture of Korkie's late grandfather during the practice and thought Adonai Kryze's spirit was shaking his head thinking that his only grandchild would marry what might be an adequate sniper on his deceased mind.

Korkie went to his side and walked out the hangar with him. Fennec was still behind them. She was starting to prefer being behind of her two teachers because in her point of view, they always start the best drama and she had backstage passes for life. Korkie was pointing out the best cantinas and bar to find other bounties if there were too many bounty hunters going after the same bounty. Crosshair was not budging on bailing about the best prize.

"Then that one," Korkie said.

He pointed at the most rundown cantina they had ever seen. And they've been on Tatooine. The cantina at Mos Eisley was still presentable compared to this. There were no windows, the doors were broken, and there were a ton of drunkards hovering.

Crosshair said nothing as they entered the cantina. Suddenly, it was all eyes on them. Fennec smirked at the sight because they were dressed like everyone else. Well, Korkie had brought his family sword, but it was not enough to set off a bar fight. Maybe it was Crosshair? He was wearing his armor to cantina, but he did add Kryze blue to it when Korkie was asleep to look more like a Mandalorian and not a clone trooper.

Korkie was the one who found the manager of the cantina. He asked about the bounty and got a shrug. Korkie backed off and Crosshair got to the manager's neck. The poor manager was scared to see Korkie whisper something in Crosshair's ear.

"Okay!" he screamed.

He took out a fob and threw it to them. Korkie caught it and \waved it to Fennec who laughed at the antics. She knew they weren't really saying anything threatening to the manager. She was beginning to pick up some Mando'a and she knew Korkie was actually talking about making a good dinner for them.

Crosshair dropped the manager as his fiancee and apprentice walked away with the fob. The rest of the cantina got out of their way. They saw the 360 Korkie did and were not wanting to fight someone who might just smile at their deaths.

"So," Korkie said as they walked around the city. "What do we want for dinner?

"Korkie," Fennec sighed. "Please stop being a mother porg. You make the best dinners."

"No," Crosshair countered. "Please act like a mother porg. You need practice when we might have Sarad."

Korkie scoffed. Ever since the two talked about having a daughter, Crosshair agreed that Sarad was a beautiful name for a young girl. He also wanted their future daughter to be a sniper like him because it might be safer for her to not be connected with the Force. Korkie was sadden by his opinion, but he did agree. Even if Sarad wasn't a Force Seer like Korkie, the Empire was never going to let another Force user live. He rather have a normal child than put one in danger because of who they were to the Force.

"Please stop talking about your future child," Fennec said. "You're not even married yet!"

"Well, Fennec," Korkie said. "It's better to talk about a family now because then we don't have to worry about whether or not your having a niece."

Fennec gave up. She was young herself, but why do Mandalorian have to talk about marriage and family when they're so young? Was it because of the constant state of fighting for their lives, or was it because they're open about having a huge family.

The three were walking about when they stall another set of food stall. Fennec's stomach betrayed her and growled. Korkie and Crosshair looked at her like they were becoming her new set of parents.

"I may be a bit hungry," Fennec admitted. "But we should have food at the ship."

"It's an hour away," Korkie said. "Come on Fennec. Let's have some snacks."

Korkie led Fennec over to the stalls. Fennec was not a picky person, but the options were so numerous and she didn't want to buy too much food. Yet, they smelt so good. Korkie told her they had enough money to provide her a small feast. So Fennec started picking all the ones that smelled divine.

Crosshair smiled as they picked snacks by the smell. It reminded him how Hunter always knew what they should get from the stalls during their missions. Wrecker was never picky himself, but he also didn't want to break the budget. Tech was always to busy reading up on the snacks. So it was between Hunter and Crosshair to give them the cheapest and best snacks. When Echo entered the Bad Batch, it became a three person duty to provide the snacks.

Crosshair was beginning to beg whatever god or deity that controlled life that he'd be with his brothers once again. He knew he ran away from them because he was mad at Hunter, but Crosshair wasn't fair to the rest of his brothers. He was always Tech's older vod even if he never said it out loud. Wrecker and him did butt heads, but they always had each other's backs. Even Echo grew on him. Which was a surprise because he thought he'd always hate regs, but there were some who actually made him feel normal.

Crosshair walked to them, but stopped. He looked beyond Fennec and Korkie's eye spots and saw Echo. Crosshair wanted to punch a deity now because it felt way to coincidental to just see one of the Bad Batch here when he wished for it. The Echo lookalike looked at his direction and gasped. Then he left.

Crosshair ran after him and left Korkie and Fennec bewildered by the action. Korkie had the fob and he was sure they weren't near a target. Fennec grabbed Korkie and the two ran after Crosshair.

"Echo!" Crosshair cried.

Yet, no one looked up. The place was too busy, and with too many people. Korkie got to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What was that?" Korkie gasped.

"I thought I saw Echo," Crosshair said.

"Well, if they're here, then we'll find them."

"If they're here, then we could look at the hangars near by."

"You know there's a ton go hangar here, right?" Fennec asked.

"I'm not running again from them. I need to apologize."

Fennec looked at Korkie and smiled to the former duke's confusion. He was a good influence to Crosshair because to Fennec, he got to know the huge difference between their families. Korkie was born to a family who hated Jedis and want nothing with members who would be Jedis. Crosshair had his brother who never cared about his defects and saw him as their brother.

And Crosshair wants his brothers back.

"Then, let's walk," Korkie said.

They left the place and walked to the nearest hangar. It didn't take long for them to see a hangar station. Suddenly, a bunch of people got in front of them. The leader was laughing at the three.

"I heard you have the last fob," the leader said.

"We do," Crosshair answered. "But you're not taking it."

"I will."

"And why?" Fennec asked. "I've known a ton of mercenaries, but you're not even important for me to remember."

The leader lost it and attacked them. Korkie took out his sword as Fennec and Crosshair opened fire at the gang. There must have been almost thirty people. Many of them didn't look like they belong to just one group, they were just attacking Korkie, Crosshair and Fennec for the fob. They must have come late because they didn't see them at the rundown cantina.

Korkie was slashing down and slitting throats left and right to protect the fob. Fennec shot down any that came behind Korkie as Crosshair aimed at the leader who was fleeing the scene. They were backed to a corner and the gang was still coming at them.

Then, all kriffing hell broke lose. Wrecker jumped from above them and a vibro-knife from Hunter was launched at a face. Crosshair laughed at the sight of his brothers. He wasn't going insane, a deity really did listen to his wish. Tech and Echo were in front of the gang and launched a flash grenade went off. The Bad Batch, Korkie, and Fennec closed their eyes.

"Get them out of here, Crosshair," Hunter ordered. "We'll cover for you."

"Sorry, but no," Crosshair said. "Korkie's clingy."

"And what about Fennec?" Wrecker asked.

"I have a rifle if you forgot," Fennec said.

Hunter groaned as they attacked the gang. By the time the last man ran away they were done. Hunter looked at Crosshair and took out his hand.

"I know how much you hate hugging," Hunter said. "So this is my best 'I'm sorry for making you run away' shake."

Crosshair smiled and surprised Hunter. He did hug his older vod to the shock of the entire Bad Batch and his companions.

"And I apologize for being the worst brother you have," Crosshair said as he let go. "I know I had all the right to leave, but it still wasn't right to leave my other brothers."

"Who are you?" Wrecker asked. "Where's the real Crosshair?"

"I can scan!" Tech said.

"Please don't scan and I have a reason for changing," Crosshair said.

He presented Fennec and Korkie.

"Duke Korkie?" Echo said.

"You know me?" Korkie asked.

"Well, I used to work with Commander Cody. He met Duchess Satine before. I'm sorry for your lost."

"It's fine. Also, I'm not a duke anymore."

The Bad Batch looked at Crosshair who smirked.

"Any chance you have some food?" Crosshair asked. "Korkie can cook. Real good."

"No?" Hunter said. "You know what we always had to eat."

"Then dinner's on me."

The Bad Batch didn't understand what was going on, but they followed the trio. Then they got the memo once Crosshair took Korkie's hand when they got to the hangar.

"Um, Fennec," Tech whispered. "I know we're not close, but are those two?"

"Yes," Fennec answered.

Wrecker dropped his mouth as Crosshair opened the door and let Korkie kiss him on the cheek. The former duke went to work as the Bad Batch waited outside with Fennec bringing in seats. Well, Korkie's storage boxes, but it's what they had.

"When?" Wrecker asked. "And how?"

"Did you ever heard about a Mandalorian bounty?" Crosshair asked.

"No," Echo said. "You did not."

"Oh I did."

"You fell for a bounty?" Hunter screamed.

"And royalty at best?" Tech asked.

"He was very persuasive," Crosshair laughed. "He became the best thing in my life after everything that happened between us."

"So why is he not royalty anymore?" Echo asked. "I mean, Duchess Satine may have died, but Korkie is her heir."

"Well, he got kicked out of House Kryze."

"HOW?" They all screamed.

"Well I'm marrying him," Korkie replied.

He had dinner ready. A huge pot of soup and some meat. He placed them in the center of the Bad Batch and Fennec gave them a dish plate.

"You've got to kidding us," Wrecker said. "HIM? CROSSHAIR?"

"Yes, brother-in-law," Korkie smiled. "Though, it's more like he's marrying me. My side of the family is drama upon drama."

"And ours is not?" Hunter asked.

"Well, you've only worked with the Jedi. I'm the secret son of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Duchess Satine Kryze."

Korkie has never been asked so many questions in rapid fire response before. But, he's not mad. They were his future-in-laws.

#korkie kryze #korkie kenobi #crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #fennec shand #hunter #wrecker #tech #echo #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper tech #clone trooper echo #the bad batch #star wars

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vitosscaletta · 4 years

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personality + relationships for julia & background + relationships for lucia 😌

rips you off and makes banners <3

PERSONALITY

What’s their alignment?

chaotic good/neutral. more neutral/lawful later on

Which one of the 16 Personality Types do they fit into?

Not looking at it in-depth but entj 😳

What are their hobbies and interests? Do they have any particular “favorites” (food, books, and so on)?

Writing obviously... Mostly her little newspaper articles though, she’s not creative enough to write fiction :/ Other than that she likes to read, mostly the standard literature of the time (she’s a big fan of Ernest Hemingway.. 😳) or some of her mom’s old stuff and a few other columnists she looks up to :) Also medical books her dad has in their living room. She reads those too. She also picked up sewing at some point in the late 20′s/early30′s but she’s kinda. whatever about it. Mostly did it when she couldn’t afford new clothes and tried to change the silhouette of her old stuff

What are they bad at?

Driving 😔 she’s not... bad... she’ll just yell at anyone for no reason and break speed limit all the time

Do they have any vices/addictions/mental illnesses?

No lol but she smokes... sometimes 😒

What are their goals and motivations?

God she’s ambitious as hell and it has mostly to do with her job... she wants to be a famous journalist or something but most of all to be taken seriously? Insert that saying about having to work twice as hard as a man to get half as much respect. Besides that, she also believes whatever she puts out into the world could somehow change things for the better :) It’s a little naive so she’d never tell people but.

What are their manners like? Any habits?

Her manners are.. good? But she’s chatty and won’t shut up and says whatever is on her mind so

RELATIONSHIPS

Do they have any friends? Would they consider anyone to be their best friend?

She’s friends with almost everyone at Salieri’s (except Frank ig just because I couldn’t see them interacting much.. and Vinny..) and mostly just hangs out with them, she doesn’t really interact with other people anymore. Friend group that consists almost exclusively of italians <3 Her best friends are Olive and Sarah, maybe also Carlo since he always hangs around the bar too while the others are doing idk mafia things and plays cards with them :/ She’s friends with the other guys too though. Including Ralphie to some degree, she feels sorry that everyone makes fun of him... then laughs at whatever mean shit the others say about him and feels bad about it 😔

What’s their love life like? (See also: ship question meme.) Do they have any kids?

Oh you know 🙄 has a stupid little crush on Sam because she likes evil men i guess... idk what to say because there’s. A lot. They hold hands on her dads couch, get together like a year later because hes a freak etc. You know how it ends in canon but in the sexy superior au they get married in 1939/1940 something but nothing changes bc she was living in his crappy little italy apartment anyway :) also no kids god..

Who do they look up to? Who do they trust?

Hmmm mostly her parents. Yes her dad is a crooked doctor but she wants to be like that too... He ends up in prison in the canon timeline though :c Also her late mother... she was an author (not a well-known one lmao) who died in the late 1910s :/ She trusts uhhh.. her dad and her friends I suppose.. her close friends.

Who do they hate? Do they have any enemies?

She dislikes/hates a lot of random people because she’s petty but has no real enemies? Maybe Morello & his gang but just because everyone else does.. She has the exact same opinion on him as Salieri so whenever he talks shit she’s like “haha YEAH! >:(”... then he goes crazy in the end :/

Do they have any pets?

Yes, a cat :) his name is Louie

Are they good with kids? Animals?

With kids... yeah, to some degree? She’s the cool aunt who teaches kids swear words like “oh nuts” and tells them (child-friendly versions of) stories about her mafia friends but she’s not really someone who could take care of a child all day 🙄 Animals... yeah? She’s good with cats but probably nothing else

BACKGROUND

Where were they born? What was their childhood like?

She was born in Parlermo in the 1920s but her family moved to america when she was very young so she has no memory of her old home :/ They weren’t very well off in sicily and that didn’t change when they moved, her parents worked shitty jobs with low pay so they didn’t have much & lived in some ugly little apartment in little italy with their three kids... Lucia had to take care of her brothers most of the time because her parents both worked.. and was usually the one who had to beat the other kids’ asses when they got into trouble with any of them 😒 She spent most of the free time she had studying and doing things for school so she could get a proper job and wouldn’t end up like her parents or whatever

What’s their family like?

Her parents like I said are both from Sicily.. her dad is a mechanic and mostly worked in some little garage. The earning wasn’t that bad for the time but he made a few debts to the bank (and other people trying to pay those off) in the 1930s so you know :/ Her mom worked part-time in some random store lol.. they loved her obviously but they were very strict and had a billion expectations while also not really being around enough. They do support her trying to do well in school, mayyyyybe also going to college and all that but still expect her to get married instead of pursuing a career in the end so she can become a proper housewife 😒 She also has two younger brothers, Antonio and Frank.. they’re closer and like i said... Lucia is the cooler older sister who beats up the other kids who mess with them. They don’t have much lore but.. they exist..

What factions or organizations are they a part of? What ranks and titles do they hold?

None... idk.... empire bay library where she works in the late 40′s/early 50s :) she initially just works there as a librarian but becomes an archivist in 1950 something.

How do they fit into their “story”?

Just like Mia, she’s Vito & Joe’s friend from childhood.. dumb teenage antics that end after high school and they grow apart while Vito is in the army and Joe does... crime things. She’s just doing her own thing until the like 2 months where Vito isnt in prison.. where she has to drive his ass home after he & Joe robbed that one jewelry store :^) also they all meet up again in 1951, life is good for 3 months

Where do they currently live? What’s their place like?

Some crappy little apartment complex in Westside except her apartment looks nice 😌 it’s nothing fancy but it’s cozy and nice, lots of books lying around (there’s a system to it according to her), some old furniture mixed with new mid-century style ones. She has a little sunburst clock hanging there.

How do they eventually die?

Uhhh probably just of old age... in a swamp..

RELATIONSHIPS

Do they have any friends? Would they consider anyone to be their best friend?

Her childhood friend group that I mentioned, consisting of Vito, Joe and Mia :) They all lived in the same crappy neighborhood and went to school together.. Apparently Joe was the neighborhood bully whch is funny as hell to me but also. Lucia got into his “gang” when he picked on her little brother and she threatened to beat his ass.. meanwhile Vito actually had to do that to get into their group lmao. They met Mia like two years later in church and all became friends when Lucia helped her out in school 😳 She’d definitely consider Mia her best friend, they still hung out after their little friend group fell apart :(

She’s also friends with Giuliana and by association Henry (not really she just hears about him from like everyone)

What’s their friend group like? What role do they play in it?

godd obviously she wasn’t the one who started shit but she gladly went along with whatever stupid bullshit the others were doing. She’s supposed to be the responsible smart one or something but she’s not... she’s the one who causes more trouble to help the others somehow 😌 Shoplifting antics

She started being responsible after graduating high school when her parents told her to do something with her life so she’s like... “time to stop hanging out with criminals and focus on college...”. she really misses it though :(

What’s their love life like? (See also: ship question meme.) Do they have any kids?

Ahem.... she and Vito.... Childhood friends to lovers 😌 they were just friends in high school & she thought she’d never see him again after he got arrested but she does in 1945. Then he gets arrested again :)) Uhh she probably briefly dated a few people during that time but nothing ever came out of it. They get together in 1951 though but i cant talk about my mafia ships here or I’ll combust. They also probably have kids idk yet.. they look like kids people

Who do they look up to? Who do they trust?

She trusts..... her friends. and her brothers. Doesn’t really look up to her parents though because that’s exactly what she doesn’t want to be :(

Who do they hate? Do they have any enemies?

She doesn’t have any enemies she just hates some random people by association (the irish gang, some random mafia men she doesnt know)

Do they have any pets?

Two cats. Ocs by me owning cats cinematic universe

Are they good with kids? Animals?

Yes, she’s good with both :)

#THANK YOU 💗💗💗 sorry this took ages.. gets distracted from ask meme you sent by talking to you in dms #the gc too actually #c: julia #c: lucia #mafia 1 brain activated #ok also getting a solid feeling on Lucia now.. :)#jennystahl

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kayteewritessteve · 5 years

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Love and War - 1/16

Description: In a harsh and cruel medieval world, you set out alongside your sister on a perilous quest to find your foolish missing brother. A quest that will lead you onto a forbidden and unforgiving land, a land ruled and controlled by a ruthless Warlord King. One who does not look favourably upon trespassers of any kind, and punishes all with a iron fist. Will you be able to find your brother in time, will you be able to not only rescue him but also keep yourself out of harm's way? Or will you be captured, in more ways than one? Only time will tell. But what you do know is you will forever be altered by this journey. You will never be the same once it’s finished. And that knowledge is what truly terrifies you the most.

Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 3,420 ish.

Pairing: Medieval!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG for now. May become 18+ later.

Warnings: Violence. Curse words. Mentions of fears and potentially brutal medieval tactics. Most likely more to come down the road. Please don’t let these warnings scare you too much, give the story a try before you judge it.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

I JUST WANT TO APOLOGIZE TO EVERYONE NOW, THE READ MORE LINKS AREN’T WORKING FOR ME LATELY. SO I CAN’T SHORTEN THIS POST AT ALL. DANGIT! PLEASE DON’T HATE ME!!! 😩😩😩♥️♥️♥️

“You will marry him, Y/N,” Athos sternly told you, “there is no escaping this union. It is already set.”

“How dare you,” you seethed from your place standing in the middle of the large room, directly in front of his enormous throne. “King or not, you can not make me! I wont do it. I would rather die!”

“You know that isn’t possible,” he mumbled and shook his head, as if he were exasperated with you, as if you were some silly child throwing a pointless tantrum. Instead of a woman refusing to wed a man she loathed, entirely. “And the deal has already been made.”

“Can I at least know the reasons for why you are forcing this?” You crossed your arms, “why you have thoughtlessly given my hand to that man?” You spat the last part in disgust, as if the words were a vulgar curse. Hepha was not a man, far from it actually, he was more of a pompous coward. At least in your eyes anyways.

The King sighed deeply, his large presence shrinking and deflating just a little. Just enough to show you how tired he truly was. But you pretended not to notice that, refusing to let it interfere with your outrage towards all of this. He locked eyes with you, “it wasn’t thoughtlessly, Y/N. He trapped Hypatia in a ploy for revenge, we tried to free her but our plans were foiled. You must see, child, there was no other way, he refused to release her unless I betrothed you to him.”

“We both know that isn’t the only reason,” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“It is the only reason that matters!” he snapped back, “did you not hear me, Y/N, he had the Queen. Regardless of my personal opinions of you, or of your affairs, this was entirely to save her. Your previous transgressions played no hand in any of this.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And I do not care what you believe, you will marry him. You won’t be escaping this union.”

You hesitated, only one question bouncing around in your mind now, “does Alarick know?”

“He does not, and he will not learn of it until it’s all finalized and finished.”

“Then I will tell him myself. He is going to be furious with you,” you threatened as you turned away from him and went to storm out. You were not going to stand by and allow this. And you knew Ari wouldn’t either. He’d be able to find a way to fix this, to end all of this ridiculousness. And most importantly he’d be able to save you from this greatly unwanted marriage.

“You do not walk away from me!” the King bellowed, his deep commanding voice freezing your steps, and causing you to slowly turn back around to face him. “You will show me the respect I am owed. And as for your threat, you will not find him. I have sent him and Harlin away to deal with more important matters. They are not to return until after the wedding,” he informed you, his words instantly leaving you feeling entirely trapped and utterly hopeless. “Now, with my permission, you may leave my throne room. But do not forget, you have a wedding to attend tomorrow morning. Get some rest and do not be late.”

“Fine, I will leave, but I will not be attending that wedding. You can not force me,” you turned on your heel, going to storm out but Athos deep voice halts your actions once more.

“You have no say in this, child. And do not forget who you are speaking to, I do not want to have to punish you for your stubborn insolence.”

“You already are, this wedding is a punishment,” you snapped back then stormed out of the room. Ignoring his hollers for you to halt, you refused to go through with this. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You’d just have to find another way out of it, you’d just have to save yourself this time.

Some time later, in a land far, far away.

“Are you sure this is the way he went?” You whisper skeptically as you are crouched down behind a thicket of brambles.

“I am,” Wanda whispers back from her place crouched down beside you, “I know he came this way, I can feel it.”

“Oh great,” you sigh deeply, then mumble, “let’s just continue to risk our necks for your ‘feelings’.”

“You and I both know my ‘feelings’ are always right,” Wanda glares at you.

“So far, yes,” you cross your arms and glare back at her, “but it’s only a matter of time before you get it wrong, and we both end up dead because of it.”

“So you don’t want to make sure Pietro is okay?” She raises a brow at you, challenging you. And you narrow your eyes at her, of course you want to make sure he is okay, but you’d prefer if it wasn’t at the potential cost of your own life.

She smirks smugly at your silence, “that’s what I thought. You care about him just as much as I do, don’t pretend otherwise.”

“Of course I do, he’s my bro—“ you begin to whisper harshly at her but are abruptly cut off when you hear a twig snapping, off in the distance.

Your eyes instantly flick towards where the noise came from, seeing two insanely large figures about 50 yards away. Clearly they are patrolling his land for trespassers, such as yourself and Wanda, as you both are currently far too deep into the King’s land. Much further in then you’d have ever liked, or imagined you’d be.

It was common knowledge in your small, coastal town that it was heavily against the rules to so much as look towards the King’s land, let alone ever step foot on it. And anyone foolish enough to ever do the latter, was never seen or heard from again.

The King was a secretive man, not much was known of him, his territory or his people, but the rumours and whisperings were the things of childhood nightmares—most adult nightmares as well—At least all the ones you’d heard so far about him were.

He was a warlord, a bloodthirsty beast who ruled with an iron fist and gave no mercy to his foes. He barely ever even left his own land, at least not long enough for you or any other commoner to actually set eyes upon him. He only left his domain for war, and once he won—because he always won—he would retreat back to his castle, and not be heard of again until the next battle would arise.

But never having laid eyes on him was a good thing, a great thing actually, as those who did never lived long enough to tell the tales. No one could even give a solid answer as to what he was truly like, let alone how he looked, or how old he was. But of course many made up stories of encounters with the Warlord King, though you couldn’t actually take any of them seriously. But they made for both horrifying and intriguing stories, to be sure.

One such story you’d heard in passing was that he was larger than any man to ever walk the earth, so large it was believed he was a descendant of Giants. Large beings that no longer walked the earth, but had many, many centuries ago.

Another rumour was that he was a mad King, that he’d gone insane when his wife was kidnapped and killed by his enemies—as he had a great many of those—and the loss of her had sent him well and truly over the edge. Had made him became an angry, vengeful King who sought to kill all those involved in the Queens kidnap and murder. And then once he had a taste for blood and power he just couldn’t stop. Even after he had successfully exacted his revenge on all those involved.

Though there was one story about him that intrigued you, more than terrified you. It was said his lineage could be tied to the ancient Gods of old. The tale was vague at best, no one really knew the full facts, but supposedly his lineage was linked to the King of Gods himself, somehow. That somewhere along the line a child, a son, was born. That child then grew to be a great and noble warrior who conquered this land, and built his empire upon it, becoming the first King of Winterbourne.

But believing that an actual God had come down to produce a child with a human, was far fetched at best. You strongly believe this tale only came about in an attempt to quell your towns immense fear of the ruthless King. Something slightly romanticized to help smooth everyone’s unease, as your town was one of only a couple that directly bordered his land. Being so close to him and his territory made most in your townsfolk restless, at best.

But that was really the only intriguing tale that you’d heard. The rest were all—well, to put it lightly, they all terrified you to your very core.

And the most horrific of them all, was the tale that he had tricked a powerful sorceress into believing he loved her, so that she would build him a half breed army, and then once she had, he had her executed. The half breed army was stronger than any other in the realm and that was why the King never lost a battle. By day the army was man, but by night they were beast. Monsters so large they rivalled the size of even the largest of bovines. Fearsome, bloodthirsty creatures who could smell your fear from 100 yards away, and kill you before you ever saw it coming.

You shutter at the thought as you clench your eyes shut and try to envision being back in your cosy little room, sitting at your desk, drawing all the things you dreamed about. As was your favourite pastime, since you always seemed to have such very vivid and overly realistic dreams, ones that you could never make any sense of. But that you also didn’t want to ever forget.

“Once they are out of sight we will continue on,” Wanda whispers from beside you, nearly causing you to jump in surprise as you had been so lost in your own mind, you’d forgotten she was beside you, and where you were, for a moment.

You snap your eyes back open and watch as one of the two guards raises his head slightly, then glances around. The motion sending another unpleasant shutter through you. But then to your utter joy, they both start to move away from you, and your hiding place. Though this entire moment leaves you completely aware that you really shouldn’t be here. You do not want to find out, first hand, which of those disturbing stories are true. The half breed army being the least favourable one, to be sure.

“Wands,” you turn to look at your adopted sister, “we really shouldn’t be here,” you stress.

“I know,” she sighs and looks to you, “but we can’t just leave Pietro out here,” she takes your hand in hers and gives it a squeeze, “he’d come for us.”

You nod slowly as you turn to see how far away the guards are now, “you’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just scared.”

“I am too, but I’ll do everything in my power to keep us both safe, I promise,” she vows with another hand squeeze as if to reassure you that her words are true. “It appears they are gone, we should continue,” she says as she stands from her hiding spot, pulling you up with her.

You both take a moment to stretch out your aching legs, having been stuck crouching for much longer than your bodies are used to. Then you both adjust your skirts and cloaks, detaching any bramble branches that currently cling to the thick, coarse wool materials.

You each do a final glance around and then step out from behind the bushes, ready to continue on. Wanda glances up at the sky, the overcast clouds blocking out most of the direct sunlight. “I believe it’s about mid day now,” she says as she looks back to you, “we only have a few more hours of daylight so we need to find Pietro quickly.”

You nod, not being very good at Sun Tracking yourself, so you’d just take her word for it. You both quickly but quietly make your way forward, using the natural foliage to hide your small forms. While keeping both your eyes and ears alert to anything, and everything, around you, wanting to notice anyone nearby long before they notice you.

You hear the sounds of a lazy river off to your left and make your way towards it, needing to refill your canteens as you’d both been on the King’s land since the wee hours of the morning. You’d decided to set out shortly before dawn, using the blanket of night to cross his border, as it was the most heavily guarded spot. Knowing that once you were deep enough onto his territory, you’d encounter less guards as the border patrols would normally catch any trespassers long before they got anywhere near the castle walls.

Guards were far less frequent throughout the interior of the territory as, honestly, no one was stupid enough to even think about entering his land uninvited—well besides Pietro. And, I guess Wanda and yourself now, though you were only here because Pietro had been foolish enough to enter the King’s domain first.

He had left 7 days ago to hunt, normally he’d stick to your own towns territory, but this time he had stupidly decided to hunt on the King’s land. However in his defence, this area did have the best game, to be sure. All the animals just seemed to grow larger on the King’s lands, as opposed to anywhere else. So if Pietro was successful in tracking, hunting and extricating a wild deer from here, you’d be set for meat all winter. One deer here equaled about 4 from your territory. But hunting this land was not allowed, it was strictly forbidden actually, and if caught doing so, the punishment was death.

But Pietro was always too cocky, he believed he could outrun anyone, including the King’s guards. And even though he was faster than any man you’d ever known, he didn’t know this land like the guards did. This was entirely unfamiliar terrain for all of you.

So when Pietro hadn’t returned by the 5th day, which was usually the maximum day for his hunts, you and Wanda began to worry. Though you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt and just continued to wait out his return. But by the 7th day of him being gone, you both knew something had happened to him. And then Wanda formulated this ridiculous plan to enter the King’s land and find him.

You had been reluctant at first, not wanting to get your neck cut, but eventually you agreed to her insane suicide mission, as you knew Pietro would have come for either of you, if the roles were reversed. And honestly, Pietro was the provider for you and Wanda. He’d taken you in with open arms and had basically adopted you as a sister. Though everyone in town was told you were his actual blood sister, and had just been living with a distant relative for most of your life.

However, that was just a story you’d all fabricated. Where you’d really come from, or who you were actually related to, was unknown to any of you. They’d found you just about a year ago, aimlessly wandering in the woods near their town, confused and disorientated. You had no memory of where you’d come from or where you’d been. And they took pity on you, bringing you home with them and cleaning you up then offering you a warm, dry, safe place to live.

Though you don’t remember them finding you, the first thing you do remember is waking up in a bed in their home. Confused and weak. They nursed you back to full health and you’ve been with them ever since. Living as if they were actually your long lost siblings, you’d dream often of learning that they were, in fact, your blood family. That you did in fact belong with them. But then you’d wake and the truth would come back to you. The truth that you tried so desperately to ignore.

You didn’t actually know who you were. You didn’t know where you belonged. You didn’t know where you’d come from, or where you’d been trying to get to. But what you did know, was that something was missing. Something always just felt off, like you needed to find something very important to you. However, you didn’t have the foggiest of ideas as to what that something was. You just knew it was out there, somewhere, waiting for you.

“Here, give me your canteen,” Wanda’s words pull you back into the real world, noticing her hand outstretched towards you now.

You quickly detach it from under your cloak, where it has been tied onto a belt around your waist and hand it to her. She bends down and refills it in the stream, then hands it back to you as she steps off the river stone, the one she’d used to reach the water’s edge without getting her skirts wet. “We will follow the river for as long as we can. Knowing Pietro, he would have done the same. If he hasn’t been captured, we will find him somewhere along it.”

“Okay,” you reply quietly as you both start to walk again. You were always envious of Pietro and Wanda’s skills when it came to tracking and hunting, you’d clearly not come from a background where that was ever needed. Or maybe you had, and you just couldn’t remember? Either way, you always felt slightly useless in comparison to the both of them.

You had no notable skills to speak of, unless you count your ability to draw as a skill. To some, maybe it was, but to you, it was a rather useless talent. You couldn’t make a living off of it, nor did it protect you from the world. It was just a hobby, something to help you pass the time until Wanda could finally unlock your memories.

How was she planning to do that? Well, Wanda is a witch, though she isn’t part of a coven, nor has she ever been formally trained through one, but she is capable of a few minor spells. And is slowly learning the extent of her powers, and just what she is able to do.

She had been very young when her powers were made known, and she’d almost been caught when she casted a spell by mistake in front of a few towns children. Pietro had freaked out, and managed to cover it up but he was worried the townsfolk would figure out her secret and burn her at the stake. So in the middle of the night he packed them up and moved them far, far away. Living in the woods for a few years, just until Wanda could control her power and learn to hide it.

Once she had a handle on it, they moved into the town of Triskelion, and have lived there ever since. The town with which you now also call home. It wasn’t a huge place, the population consisting of around 300 people and located right on the coast. With the sea on one side and the King’s land on the other, both prevented the town from growing any larger. But it was a stunning little place, most of the townsfolk were friendly enough, though the three of you kept mainly to yourselves. Just for fear of either Wanda’s secret or yours getting out.

Pietro made a decent living as a blacksmith, and was able to provide for both Wanda and you rather well. You owe him so much, which is exactly why you now find yourself a few hours into this unfamiliar and unwelcoming land. Illegally searching for your foolish brother, with your magical sister by your side—

Another branch snapping behind you startles you out of your thoughts as you whip around to see what caused the noise. Wanda doing the same as you both come face to face with two massive guards. Ones who do not look friendly, nor happy, at all.

“Well, well, well,” the larger of the two starts, “and what do we have here?��

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So there it is! The first part! I can’t wait to hear what you all think of it so far, it’s starts off a little slow. Just building the setting and backgrounds. But it will pick up soon! As for posting, I’m not sure of a schedule for that just yet, most likely every few days I’ll put a mew chapter up! At least 2 at weeks, for sure!

Also if you want to be removed or added to the tags list, just comment, message or send an ask! I can make both happen! ;)

@hopefulmoonobject @caps-lockdown @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tessvillegas @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @imdiegohargreeves @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @marvel13princess @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @starstucknature

#au fanfiction #fanfiction #long post #long read #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #medieval!steve rogers #medieval au #medival!steve rogers x reader #love and war #chapter 1 #fantasy au #fantasy!steve rogers

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reifromrfa · 5 years

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Threads of Thoughts | Juminzine Fic

Hi guys! Here’s my fic for the @juminfanzine! :)

This is a bit different from my other pieces, but I really hope you like it <3 I love Jumin and it was so much fun to try and write from his perspective ^^ Thank you to everyone who supported the zine!

Also, thank you to my amazing collab partner, Franjipantree (follow her on twitter!) <3

Enjoy! :D

Heir Exclusive is privileged to get a sneak peek into the thoughts of Korea’s wealthiest man, Jumin Han. The following is an excerpt from his upcoming memoir, Threads of Thoughts, capturing the innermost thoughts of C&R’s CEO regarding the various kidnapping attempts throughout his life. His book will be available early next year in bookstores internationally.

1st of September, 2018 | 01:42am

I have always been different. Born into wealth, my experiences differ from the normal South Korean citizen. I do not drive…I have chauffeurs. My meals are planned for me by a professional nutritionist, my physical health overseen by a personal trainer. At a young age, I have been taught how to run a business, given advanced lessons…I have been placed on a luxury jet, while other children share a bus or take the public transport.

We never choose the families we are born into. As children, we simply do what we are told, accept the cards we have been dealt; it is up to us to decide whether it will be a winning hand or not. I, of course, knew at a young age that I would inherit my father’s massive business empire —as Chairman Han’s sole heir, who else would he trust to run his company? I had been dealt a winning hand, but that did not mean I was going to relax; no, I intended to use my cards to my advantage and further increase their value.

There are those who cannot comprehend that the fortune my father amassed was gained through hard work…a sincere dedication to his business. There are those who take one look and classify my family and I as aristocratic snobs…as people who live off of their fortune, spending days languidly beside luxury pools or sophisticated parties. I do not feel the need to defend myself against such false accusations. C&R stands tall and firm because of the foundations my father erected, and as his heir, I plan to continue his legacy.

Unfortunately, the world is rife with greed. People will do anything for an easy way out...A shortcut to wealth, to a better life. This journal is where I am able to freely express my unfiltered thoughts. What I wish to talk about tonight is not about our family business…nor is it about my father. No…I wish to talk about the people who allow their greed to consume them, enough so they dare to commit atrocious crimes.

Such as kidnap.

I remember when I was a young boy…I did not question the team of elite bodyguards who accompanied me everywhere I went. I knew my status made me an easy target: sole heir of C&R, a mere child with no means to defend himself. I was already wary of people; who wouldn’t be, with my father’s endless parade of women? And having my father tell me of the threats to my life…of course I trusted him. He is my father, who else would care about my safety more than him?

Indeed, he was right about the dangers that lurk outside the walls of our estate. The first time someone ever attempted to kidnap me…yes, I still remember it vividly.

Class had just ended. I was safely in our car, seatbelt securely fastened when several black vans blocked our path and men with guns exited the vehicle. The other car with my backup bodyguards was nowhere to be seen. The guards with me immediately drew their own guns as we were surrounded by the strangers in masks. I watched the men shoot at our bulletproof windshield, try to pry open the doors with crowbars, yell out threats and demands from outside.

My father warned me about such situations. He said I should remain calm and think rationally, putting my safety above everything else. Showing fear would only give them more power, more leverage. I knew my father loved me —he still does. He would never give me false advice. Therefore I remained calm. Composed. Not showing a trace of fear to the barbaric kidnappers outside the vehicle. With the heavily tinted windows, I doubt they were able to see me anyway.

It was over before it even began. One minute, the men were threatening us while shooting at our car, the next, my bodyguards from the other vehicle came and shot their leader, bringing the other kidnappers to their knees. I still recall the bodyguards exiting the car, leaving me sitting in the back while they rounded up the kidnappers and surveyed the area. Only Driver Kim remained with me, offering a kind, reassuring smile.

My close encounter with the kidnappers was all over the news that evening. My father shielded me from the rabid reporters and hungry journalists, desperate for the drama a ‘traumatized rich boy' such as myself would offer. Yes, it was quite a shocking experience…but I would not go as far as to calling myself ‘traumatized’. Worried, my father had me examined by various health professionals, checking my physical and mental health with regards to the event…I was fine. I did not want to cause a fuss, and I was safely in the car when everything was happening. My father did not have to worry about me. I didn’t know it then, but that experience would be one of the many kidnapping attempts throughout my life.

To be honest, I do think these experiences have affected me subconsciously. At a young age, I have learned that humans are fragile creatures…easily broken. Humans are greedy and cannot be trusted. There are lengths to which some people would go, for money.

As an adult, I am very much aware of my status and the people who relentlessly chase me for my wealth. That is why I have hired the top men who would ensure my safety and my loved ones’ security. It has made me wary and indifferent to most people.

But she…she is different. My beloved MC…my precious wife. She has brought immense joy to my life, and to be honest, I am able to breathe easier when she is with me. The threads…she untangles them for me, loosens their hold on me.

She is my life.

And it terrifies me.

I know how easy it is for things to change…how easy it is to manipulate the thread of life. Just one snip…and a life is over. It is ironic that one such as I, a man with wealth and power, can have so much to fear.

But no amount of money in the world can ever bring back those we have lost…and I came very close to losing her today. Gone are the days that kidnappers targeted me. No…they know my weakness now. They know I would do anything for my wife. If it were me they took, I would never give the kidnappers anything. Therefore, they grew bold and tried to kidnap my wife.

Earlier this afternoon, MC had insisted to go out with Assistant Kang, to do some last minute preparations for the RFA party. When several men entered the store they were browsing in, the bodyguards contacted me immediately and I rushed to the scene. I called her, of course. I wanted to hear for myself that she was safe, she was unharmed. I shudder when I remember her anxious voice…

“My love, I see the men, they are already in the store and they are coming closer…Do not worry, Jumin, the bodyguards have spotted the—ah, please sir, don’t touch me!”

They dared to touch her…my precious wife. I grew so agitated and restless, I wanted nothing more than to be beside her and introduce the stranger to my fist. God...I will make sure they know what a grave mistake they have made. Thankfully, Assistant Kang is knowledgeable in judo —she was able to defend herself and MC from the men before my men took the kidnappers away.

However, the fact still remains…I could have lost her today. Had it been a different friend with her…or had they pulled out a weapon…God forbid.

Sometimes…Sometimes I wish I could keep her locked up in the penthouse. It is the one place that is heavily guarded, extremely difficult to reach…a safe haven. She would be safe at home.

…yes, I do understand it sounds like I am…unhinged. Rest assured, I am perfectly fine. I simply prefer exercising control over matters. When she is out there…though she is protected…there are other variables I cannot control, cannot foresee. There are innumerable dangers the world poses to my beloved wife. She has become a valuable asset, because she is the queen to whom the king would willingly sacrifice himself for.

She is my everything.

One word from her lips and I am unraveled, I am bested. I am willing to do anything for her. Today, I learned what true fear was. Today, I felt like a boy once more…powerless. Trapped inside a vehicle, waiting for news…good or bad, I have no control. Today, I clasp her thread tighter in my hands…for I do not want to lose her. I can’t. She does not know how much she means to me. And I do not dare to keep her locked up inside a cage…though I desire it, her happiness is also my priority. I want to see her smiling, her radiant glow driving out the hollow emptiness in my soul.

Earlier this evening, I held her close to me, my fingers stroking her hair, wet from her bath. MC was clearly a bit shaken, and I sought to soothe her nerves, reassure her that she was safe. I pressed my lips to her head and spoke to her…

“You are home, my love. Nothing will hurt you here…you are safe.”

“Yes…I know that, Jumin. But I still got scared. If they had gotten me…they would have used me against you. And I never want anybody to use me to blackmail you, Jumin.”

Imagine my shock…my wife still thought of my well-being despite being put at risk. But none of that mattered.

“MC, you are the most precious person in the world to me. Please, I ask you to put yourself above anybody else, even me. Your safety and happiness always come first.”

“No…Jumin, you are my husband. To love and to cherish…I made that vow to you. I don’t care what happens to me…if you are well, if you are safe and happy then I am happy.”

I pull her closer to me then, burying my face in her hair.

“I do not deserve such a wonderful person like yourself, my love…But know that I am never letting you go. I love you, MC. I love you.”

And I meant every word.

A million thoughts ran through my mind as I rushed to her earlier…different outcomes, possible scenarios. I thank God that she came out of it unscathed, unharmed. However, fear remains gnawing at the corners of my mind and my heart. What if someone attempts to take her away from me again…?

No. I must study her security detail once more. In the morning, I will have her bodyguards re-evaluated; perhaps I should add more men to guard her.

Ah…my wife calls for me. It seems as though my thoughts have consumed me, I have lost track of time. It has gotten quite late and I want to be with her…to hold her close and cherish her. Rea her she is safe, and I will never let anything bad happen to her.

Because she is my love...my life.

My MC.

Until then, my old friend.

I would love to know what you think <3 I hope you liked it! ^^

Check out my other Mysme writings here!

Mango Shake/Ko-fi is always very much appreciated (ᵔᴥᵔ)

I’d be honored to write your story <3

My patreon is quiet right now as I work on my original fics, but if you’d like to become a Patron and support me I will forever be thankful ;w;

#mm #mysme #mystic messenger #mm jumin #jumin han #mc #jumin x mc #mysme jumin #juminzine #jumin han x mc #han jumin #mm fic #mm fanfic #mysme fic #mystic messenger fic

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lethe-rpg · 5 years

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What to say about the youngest Wade sibling? You would think that she would be lost amongst the seven-other fantastic children who all lived under one mansion. Every single one of them was different. Every child that their parents cherished and cared for was special, they were always going to be special. So, what was it that parted Drucilla from the rest? What did this little girl have that made her so God damn special? To start at the beginning, the babe was born in poor village in Ethiopia to a single mother in a cruel world that didn’t give a single care for either of them. Drucilla witnessed her mother struggle day to day, selflessly caring for her child day in and day out. When Drucilla was sick, her mother would make her tea to feel better. When the skin on Drucilla’s skin was broken and bleeding from sandals that didn’t fit, her mother would wrap them in cloth and oils and in mere hours, she would be healed. It wasn’t until Drucilla was a little other than a toddler when she realized that many people went to her mother for everything. Anywhere between wishes to come true or to wish another ill. Little Drucilla was always close by when her mother was creating these concoctions for others and would help her mother when she wasn’t in school or finished homework. These potions were always done in secret, though, which was what young Drucilla didn’t understand. People were coming to her mother far and wide to see her, for her help, but it was always late at night with hoods covering their identity. Her mother should be flaunting about how good of a witch she was. How she was so powerful that even the richest man in the village had to bow at her feet. But her mother was a humble and quiet woman, and always told her baby girl to never speak of what she was doing behind thick black sheets. Drucilla, though, made the fatal mistake of not listening. In rebelling against her mother’s words, in wanting to show the kids at school that her mother was and should be feared, Drucilla spoke loud and proud and threatened those who dare to speak against her mother. It was a short three days later when angry villagers were on their doorstep, dragging her mother outside to hang. Drucilla still remembers how her mother’s limp body swayed with the angry winds. Orphaned and wandering the streets of the village, it was shortly after this when Drucilla was picked up by social care workers from across the sea. They took her in. Feed her, clothed her, bathed her and before she knew what was happening, the young child met her new parents at an airport in The United States. Specifically, in Atlanta.

As the years passed, Drucilla learned a great deal of what she was with the help of her new family. They saw what she didn’t understand, and that she was unable to comprehend, and they helped her harness the idea of just how much power she possessed within her. A lot of her guidance is from a hybrid of the same species, Gwendolyn. Her eldest sibling taught her that her lamia heritage can take life force to gain energy, that they can place ideas into the weak minded and receive whatever she so pleased and desired. As for the witch line, it was clear that Drucilla was going to have to wait to figure out what she was best at. She hoped that a piece of her was like her mother, that she was able to create potions for people who needed it, so that she was able to honor her. Though, as time went on, Drucilla was becoming more and more drawn towards divination, being able to read signs and omens were very easy for Drucilla. What her family was not expecting was the teen being able to communicate with those who have passed on. It suddenly clicked with the Wade Clan that her imaginary friends were not imaginary at all, and that talking with her dead mother in her dreams was not Drucilla’s subconscious trying to compartmentalize any guilt she might feel or have towards her mother’s death. More years passed, and the siblings grew older and went their separate ways, with Gwendolyn and Drucilla always keeping in touch. Drucilla moved to Los Angeles after high school to pursue her talent in interior design and event planning while never losing touch of her supernatural roots. Instead, she only became closer to her talents and heavily retracted from the human species, feeling she was absurdly above them. Of course, the humans didn’t know anything about her or her family, so to them, Drucilla walked with too much confidence for just one person, but they didn’t understand. They never would. Her mother was a testimony for humans never being able to accept what they feared. Their kingdom could fall for all she cared, because she was making her very own empire. In a short few years, Drucilla make one the most famous event planners and interior designers in the country. She was young, but she had sights the most couldn’t see. Through her rise to fame, though, Drucilla made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t just a good party planner. She was a force more fierce than thunder, and being a minatory in both the human and supernatural realm, Drucilla made it a point to advocate women from all over the world, both young and old, no matter where they came from and created an scholarship placement at her company, TopTier, where women are able to pick and choose what they wanted to learn and had the freedom to move around and educate themselves further around the design firm and event planning business. TopTier became the ultimate stepping stone for success, and it showed.

Because of her status, Drucilla was constantly invited to places and parties by every celebrity you could think of. She was doted on, the attention was all hers and no one could fight it, no matter how much someone hated her, they still somehow absolutely adored her. And she knew it. But, it became tiresome after a time. She was tired of the same people at her feet. Tired of men she wasn’t interested in fill her champagne flute. So, in a swift move when she was thirty, Drucilla picked up and settled into the small town of Lethe. The town wasn’t unfamiliar to her. She wasn’t the only celebrity in Hollywood who was a supernatural. This is where she’s been for the last six years, operating from her downtown office space. As for the Riverborn, Drucilla didn’t care for any of them and no one has yet to ask her opinion of the matter, so she doesn’t give it. That was until a few weeks ago when the hybrid had a dream about an unspecified family member being in trouble. It was an unusual one. One that she needed time to understand and process, but intuitively, she knew time wasn’t on her side. So, ignoring the stress of it, she tried not think too much of it as she continued on with her day, but early in the afternoon, she received a frantic call from Gwendolyn. It was cryptic and short, but there was anxiousness and even a bit of fear in her elder’s sisters voice. Drucilla told Gwendolyn that she could stay with her until she felt safe enough to do what she needed… But, her sister never showed. She’s been talking with police, never letting them forget about her Gwendolyn despite everything that has happened in just the last month itself.

#taken #taken female #taken hybrid #drucilla wade

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destinyimage · 3 years

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Jesus, Race, Gender, Pain, and Rejection

God has called us to be ministers of reconciliation to all people – to all races, to all genders, to the confused, to the frustrated, to the marginalized.

This isn’t a call for preachers or for full-time clergy; it is a call to the entire Body of Christ. Wherever you are, you are challenged. I think we need a brain change. We need to change our way of thinking and understand that the highest call in the world is not to be a preacher, but to do the will of God. If you doubt me, just examine the life of Jesus and see what His emphasis was!

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Whatever the will of God is for your life, that’s ‘‘God’s call.’’ If God hasn’t called you to be a preacher but you want to be one anyway, you will miss God’s highest for your life. I know a lot of people who are trying to be preachers when they are not called to preach. People who are ‘‘obedience-challenged’’ are a miserable lot. I also know a lot of people who don’t want to be preachers when that is what God has called them to do. The truth is that both groups of people are missing it: The highest call in the world is to do the will of God. The highest example of earthly obedience to a heavenly call is the life of Jesus Christ.

But when the fulness of the time came, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the Law, in order that He might redeem those who were under the Law, that we might receive the adoption as sons (Galatians 4:4-5).

The Bible and secular historical sources all agree on the basics: Jesus Christ was a real person who was born in a certain time and place in history. He came into a very real family in a very real place, and His locus was ancient Israel, in what the British Empire would later call ‘‘Palestine.’’ (The Jews have never liked this word, which was derived from the Latin root, Palestina, meaning Philistine.) He was a Nazarene who was born under the Law in ancient Bethlehem, with a family lineage that could be traced in the Torah all the way back to the line of David (according to the flesh). All this can be demonstrated by history. He was born a male child, was circumcised, and was presented to the Lord in the Temple of Herod. He grew up and learned the family trade of carpentry while living with His earthly parents in perfect subjection to them until He was 30 years old. Since the heavenly Father sent Him, we can accurately say that God sent His Son in such a way that every human being on earth could identify with Him. Why?

But we do see Him who has been made for a little while lower than the angels, namely, Jesus, because of the suffering of death crowned with glory and honor, that by the grace of God He might taste death for everyone. For it was fitting for Him, for whom are all things, and through whom are all things, in bringing many sons to glory, to perfect the author of their salvation through sufferings. For both He who sanctifies and those who are sanctified are all from one Father; for which reason He is not ashamed to call them brethren,

Since then the children share in flesh and blood, He Himself likewise also partook of the same, that through death He might render powerless him who had the power of death, that is, the devil; and might deliver those who through fear of death were subject to slavery all their lives.

Therefore, He had to be made like His brethren in all things, that He might become a merciful and faithful high priest in things pertaining to God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For since He Himself was tempted in that which He has suffered, He is able to come to the aid of those who are tempted. Therefore, holy brethren, partakers of a heavenly calling, consider Jesus, the Apostle and High Priest of our confession. He was faithful to Him who appointed Him (Hebrews 2:9-11,14-15,17--3:2).

According to the writer of Hebrews, our High Priest, Jesus Christ, can sympathize with our weaknesses and faults and feel what we feel (see Heb. 4:14-15). The issue of race, gender, or social standing has nothing to do with the Lord’s ability to feel our pain and sense of failure. He is our legitimate mediator who can totally identify with everything that we will ever go through in any way.

Our great High Priest understands gender confusion, even though we are afraid to even discuss it. He understands racism and sexism and the pain and rejection they breed. According to the inspired Word of God, our High Priest can be touched by our infirmity or feel our pain in every situation.

Don’t You Care?

I know of two occasions in Scripture where people challenged Jesus about whether or not He sympathized with their pain. The disciples wondered whether or not Jesus cared about their fears when a violent storm threatened to swamp their boat. Jesus was sleeping in the bow at the time, but the disciples were busy hoping they wouldn’t die. It must have been a terrible storm, because most of these men were expert fishermen and sailors who made their living on that same lake. The disciples got so upset that Jesus was sleeping while they ‘‘were drowning’’ that they shook Jesus and woke Him. Then they said, ‘‘Teacher, do You not care that we are perishing?’’ (Mk. 4:38). What they really said was, ‘‘Don’t You care that we are drowning?’’

In retrospect, it was a pretty silly question, but Jesus stood up and spoke to the wind. He didn’t act ugly; He just stood and told the wind to shut up (see Mk. 4:39). He didn’t say, ‘‘Now if you fools ever mess with Me and My nap again.’’ No, He responded to their challenge that He didn’t care with a challenge of His own: ‘‘Why are you so timid? How is it that you have no faith?’’ (Mk. 4:40) When anyone decides to question the Lord’s ability to care, He has a right to challenge their faith.

The second instance involved Martha, the religious workaholic in the Gospel of Luke. I’m being a little rough on her, but she epitomizes the way many Christians approach Jesus Christ today. Jesus had entered her house as an invited guest and Martha was agitated that He was content to continue talking with her sister, Mary, while she ‘‘slaved’’ in the kitchen alone (see Lk. 10:40). She was in the kitchen rattling everything she could and probably throwing the things she couldn’t. She was developing a serious attitude problem. Jesus and Mary were having a great conversation as Mary sat at the Master’s feet, totally ignoring Martha’s temper tantrum in the next room.

Since Jesus obviously wasn’t getting the message, Martha finally stormed out of the kitchen and confronted Jesus by saying, ‘‘Don’t You care?’’ (see Lk. 10:40b). Jesus was gentle with Martha, but He made it clear that while He did care about her feelings, He cared about Mary’s soul and spiritual well-being much more. Then He told Martha to be more like Mary (I’m sure that went over well).

I’m Not Like You

In a Scripture passage describing the way some of God’s people thought He might be overlooking their sin, the Lord completes His statement with this remarkable sentence: ‘‘These things you have done, and I kept silence; You thought that I was just like you; [but] I will reprove you’’ (Ps. 50:21). The problem is that we think God is just like us. We expect Him to be partial, limited in understanding, or totally out of touch with our feelings and pain, but He isn’t. He can sympathize with us in every area of life.

At times I’ve become angry over the deceptive maneuvers and hypocritical actions of national political or religious leaders and I felt resentment and indignation rising up. I thought God hated those men and their evil deeds as much as I did in those moments, but then He would invade my thoughts and say, ‘‘Joseph, you think I’m like you, but I’m not. You’re not like Me, because I don’t hate or resent those men I love them.’’

Fresh thoughts of the Lord’s loving sacrifice on the cross and God’s mercy and grace flooded my mind and I began to realize that I didn’t get here on my own. My goodness didn’t bring me here and my righteousness didn’t bring me one inch closer to God. The only reason I am forgiven is because God had mercy on me. In His mercy He ignored my failures and faults. He said, ‘‘Garlington is messed up, but he needs Me. He doesn’t like Me, but he needs Me. He doesn’t want Me, but he needs Me anyway.’’ So He sent somebody to tell me that I needed Him and that message of hope got through. As the song ‘‘Your Grace and Mercy’’ states:

Your grace and mercy Brought me through I’m living this moment Because of You.

I just want to thank You And praise You too Your grace and mercy Brought me through.

Remember How You Got Here

Every now and then, we all forget how we got where we are in God’s Kingdom. That is when we are tempted to set up court and throw the heaviest Bible we can find at the ‘‘offenders’’ of the world. ‘‘Oh God, call Your fire down from Heaven!’’ We have forgotten our call, but God hasn’t. Don’t be surprised if God shows up in your court of vengeance and says, ‘‘Child, I’m not like you. I don’t even want to be like you. But I do want you to be like Me. I’ve called you to reconcile the world back to Me.’’ As the Church of Jesus Christ, we need to stop saying, ‘‘America, to your knees!’’ We need to say, ‘‘Church, to your knees!’’ Before we can say, ‘’Repent, America!’’ we need to humble ourselves according to Second Chronicles 7:14 and say, ‘‘Church, repent!’’ Judgment always begins at the house of the Lord. First we must be reconciled to God and to one another in the Body of Christ. Then and only then can we reconcile the world to God.

We raise our voices in protest against pornography when we have pornography pouring into our homes through magazines and TV cable service! We are too quick to stand back and pray, ‘‘God, I thank You that I am not like other people,’’ when we are actually just like them.

Cost Accounting 101

Whether we like it or not, Jesus has passed along to us His ministry of reconciliation. The plan is simple and unalterable. First you and I must be reconciled to God, to be brought back to His original intent for our lives and our local churches. Then we must be reconciled to one another in the bonds of unconditional love, ‘‘loving our neighbor as ourselves.’’ That is where the Church is right now.

Now great multitudes were going along with Him; and He turned and said to them, ‘‘If anyone comes to Me, and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters [in comparison to his love for Me], yes, and even his own life, he cannot be My disciple. Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple. For which one of you, when he wants to build a tower, does not first sit down and calculate the cost, to see if he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation, and is not able to finish, all who observe it begin to ridicule him, saying, ‘This man began to build and was not able to finish’ ’’ (Luke 14:25-30).

Jesus hasn’t changed His mind. Remember, He isn’t like us. He is still telling His double-minded Church, ‘‘It’s going to cost you to stay with Me.’’ It is going to cost us our prejudice toward members of other races and social groups. It is going to cost us our pride and lead us to publicly repent for our abuse of members of the opposite sex or our children. It will cost us our compulsive love of money, achievement, and the praise of men. It will cost us everything, and it will gain us everything. First we must be reconciled to God. Then we must be reconciled to one another. The next step is God’s dream for the earth. He wants us to be ministers of reconciliation to the world, to boldly urge the lost souls around us to be reconciled to God. We need to remember that the only reason we call upon the name of the Lord today is because someone was willing to tell us the truth about God yesterday.

God’s Word says that if the Church does not judge itself, He will judge it Himself:

For he who eats and drinks, eats and drinks judgment to himself, if he does not judge the body rightly. For this reason many among you are weak and sick, and a number sleep. But if we judged ourselves rightly, we should not be judged. But when we are judged, we are disciplined by the Lord in order that we may not be condemned along with the world (1 Corinthians 11:29-32).

Paul says in the Book of Acts, ‘‘And the times of this ignorance God winked at; but now commandeth all men every where to repent’’ (Acts 17:30 KJV). I believe that God is out to capture the attention of the Church and of the world----through dramatic means if necessary. In the days ahead, I believe that we are going to see some very ‘‘significant’’ people in significant places dropping out of their elevated positions because God is going to ‘‘clean house.’’ This is not the time to think that we can get away with our secret sins and hidden pleasures and still call ourselves Christians.

If you have a sin problem, then you had better take it directly to God and get that problem settled. I’m not trying to scare you. I’m simply saying that you and I live in a different season. I believe that God is going to bring judgment to national leaders and judges in America, Europe, Asia, Africa, and throughout the world, but first He will bring judgment to the Church. If we are wise, we will judge ourselves first and be quick to repent and be reconciled. It is time to count the cost and obey the Lord of all. He commands us to be ministers of reconciliation to a broken world, but first we must be reconciled ourselves.

#Hightlight

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novarainart · 7 years

Text

Before Sunset (Stony part 2)

“Stark never mentioned you.”

Steve immediately regretted his bluntness when he saw the shadow of hurt cross Peggy’s beleaguered eyes. Damn his lack of tact.

During Peggy’s final days, it was painfully obvious her condition was only worsening. It was apparent in her thinness, the sparseness of her whitened hair, the strain with every movement, and rarer lucid moments. Yet, as a testament to the strength she once exuded as The Agent Carter, she fought tooth and nail to last one more day--one more moment--for those she loved. Those, who weren’t ready to say goodbye.

Like Steve.

Of course he tried to be strong for Peggy, starting each visit with the decision of losing her, a life before the ice. At least, that’s how it would start. Instead, each visit ended with an unspoken plea for her to stay and, without fail, she would hear him. He knew he was being selfish, knew she was content with her own mortality, but...

Steve was just a man.

Not a super-soldier--damn being a super-soldier--but a man. And he was absolutely terrified of losing her, of what that could mean.

Steve gently grasped her hand, pulling it close to his chest as he leaned in from where he sat beside her hospital bed. Peggy was already smiling at him, soft and understanding, her reassurance cutting off his apology.

“It’s all right, Steve,” she said firmly. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. In all honesty, I’m not that surprised.”

Steve brushed a light kiss over Peggy’s knuckles in gratitude, then rubbed little circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. Sensing she had more to say, he waited for her to continue. Her eyes flickered down to their joined hands, her smile turning sad with bitter edges. Closing her eyes as if to steel her nerve, she breathed a sigh before squarely meeting his gaze.

“After we lost you, Howard completely changed.”

Steve quietly listened as Peggy recounted Howard’s descent into alcoholism, fueled by the irrational belief that with Steve’s death went his only chance of ever creating anything good for the world. (“Stupid man,” she hissed.) The man tolerated living by existing down the neck of a bottle. Too stubborn to end his own life, Howard fashioned himself a new purpose: weapons manufacturing. Stark Industries became an empire of weaponry, built on Howard’s need to mask his weaknesses, to destroy any lingering vulnerability.

And with it, his humanity.

After years of obsessive entrepreneurship, wild philandering, and escalating alcoholism; Maria Carbonell entered Howard’s life and managed to stave his self-destruction by loving him. However, the reprieve was short-lived. When Maria gave birth to their son, Anthony, Howard recoiled in the face of fatherhood and retreated back to the comfort of Stark Industries.

And to the bottle.

Meanwhile, S.H.I.E.L.D. continued to contract Howard, willfully blind to his spiraling so long as he kept them stocked with state of the art weapons. Peggy maintained her close, albeit tumultuous, friendship with Howard and attempted to intervene when she could. It led her to form a surprisingly close friendship with Maria.

Peggy explained their friendship was gradual, starting with a dinner invitation after an impromptu visit to Stark estate on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D. Both women bonded over shared interests and it steadily progressed to outings, like for tea and coffee, or to the park for little Anthony. Peggy admitted she quickly grew attached to Anthony, even volunteering to watch him when Howard and Maria traveled abroad, despite their available housestaff.

“He was such a sweet, sensitive child,” said Peggy, beaming at the memory, “very loving, but so quiet and so painfully shy. It took him some months to get used to me, but he did.”

“That’s hard to imagine,” Steve couldn’t hide his disbelief. The image of a shy little boy clashed with the hyperverbal and abrasive man he remembered from the invasion of New York.

Peggy eyed him reproachfully, effectively shutting him up.

“It’s true he’s changed much over the years, but I’m certain you can thank Howard for that.” She gave a derisive sniff.

“Anthony was beyond gifted and that kind of intellect would have felt like a curse,” she said matter of factly. “Children like that are branded as different--treated different--they start thinking they’re a mistake or unwanted. It’s even worse when that difference is punished by their own parent.”

Steve realized he could empathize with Stark.

Steve knew what it was like to be “different” from what society considered “normal.” He was born with a “different” body, near handicapped and unable to play with the other children. His head was filled with “different” thoughts, an attraction to men, a shameful secret too dangerous to reveal back then. “Different” was society’s polite way of saying “bad,” “unworthy,” and “unacceptable.”

A pang of guilt struck him for judging Stark.

Seeing Peggy’s stern face, Steve was reminded that she, too, could relate. He recalled their first meeting: Private Hodge’s crude, sexist remarks and Agent Carter’s fist meeting his face in righteous reply. Indeed, she was no stranger to being “different,” spending years judged or rejected solely for being a woman in a supposed man’s world. In the end, she persisted and made others respect her. Peggy never allowed herself to just “make do” with her differences, she embraced them, empowered by them.

She showed Steve what self-acceptance could look like.

Meeting Peggy had been the catalyst for Steve to begin accepting himself. Before Peggy, those back alley fights and military dreams were attempts to prove his worth, prove he can be good even if defective--a feeble nancy boy. He’d later realize his recklessness stemmed from a seed of self-loathing. It whispered, ‘I’m not good enough.’ After Peggy, he learned to tell himself, ‘I’m more than enough.’

Steve was torn from his musings when Peggy continued.

“Maria loved Anthony, unconditionally so. She tried to protect him from feeling apart from other children, but...” she paused, her hand tightening in his, “Howard was not so forgiving.”

As their friendship grew, Maria started confiding in Peggy about concerns for her family. How Howard held Anthony to such high expectations. How Howard too readily expressed his disappointment in Anthony. How Howard seemed threatened by Anthony’s budding genius.

Apparently, Howard was willing to go far to punish his son for his own shortcomings.

At three years old, Anthony’s IQ was tested and ranked well into genius level. Instead of pride, Howard justified the need to further distance himself from his son. He was convinced affection would only detract from the boy’s genius and cripple him with childish wants. He believed unnecessary attention would make the boy soft. So, if Anthony wanted acknowledgement from Howard, he would have to earn it.

And, oh, how the boy tried.

He tried everyday to earn his father’s love.

What little time father did spend with son consisted of condescending lectures and grueling projects. Each test a failure, in one way or another, according to the unachievable bar set by Howard, himself. At times, he would punish Anthony’s failures with vicious insults, other times with a heavy hand, but always with a stiff drink or two (or five) already in him.

At four years old, Anthony created his first circuit board. A big achievement for a little boy with hands too small to even nudge his father awake from a drunken stupor to appreciate it. At five years old, Anthony contracted chickenpox. His father forbade his mother from risking contamination by visiting the hospital. Their butler, Jarvis, was sent to check in on him as an afterthought. At six years old, Anthony found the courage to share his academic accolades with his father, like sacrificial offerings to appease a wrathful god. His father simply pushed past him to pour a drink, remarking on the ridiculous trend of schools celebrating mediocrity.

Steve swallowed hard as he forced himself to continue listening, his body drawn taut, but keeping his hands gentle around Peggy’s. Disgust gnawed at the pit of his stomach as he took in the information he was fed.

“What Maria was unable or unwilling to tell me, I learned from Anthony when he would stay with me. I felt so betrayed--not for myself, but-- for Maria and for Anthony. I confronted Howard, of course, and it was ugly.” Peggy’s voice began to rise in anger, her eyes flashing like dark clouds heralding a maelstrom.

“I couldn’t protect Anthony, not with Howard’s endless resources. He made sure I was kept away and any cage rattling I did was stilled, any court I appealed to was swayed by his money. ‘Silly complaints from a hysterical woman,’ they said. (She scoffed) S.H.I.E.L.D. was no better; one child’s safety was worth trading for a better arsenal. After a year or so, I learned Howard removed Anthony to boarding school and Maria was made to sever ties with me. I had no way of reaching out to him.

“After the accident, I had to stop myself from combing the media for news about Anthony. All the revolting things they’d smear about him, soulless cowards--it was destroying a part of me. I had to move on. But even though I lost Anthony, I still...I-I still...think a-about h-him.” She faltered.

With a sharp intake of breath, Peggy leaned back into the mountain of pillows stacked behind her. Closing her eyes, brows knitted, she grimaced as the brunt of the pain hit her. Steve knew it would be pointless to ask her if she was OK. Increased pain was par for the course, unfortunately. Freeing a hand, he gingerly rubbed her blanketed stomach and attempted to distract her.

“When I came back, I tried tracking down everyone from the war. I wanted to know who made it out, who got to live it out like we talked about in the trenches. I never would have guessed all of this about Howard,” he said, disillusionment laced with disappointment. “But, if you and Stark were so close before--I mean, even if Howard prevented you from seeing him, he would have remembered. He should have at least mentioned you, right?”

Steve recalled the S.H.I.E.L.D. reports issued to him when Loki stole the Tesseract, each a detailed profile on the Avengers. He knew his own profile was likely given to the others and would have included Project Rebirth, would have documented the involvement of one Agent Margaret “Peggy” Carter. Stark would have seen that, put two-and-two together, and...

He said nothing to Steve.

Granted, what Stark divulged or not was his choice and they were busy fighting a massive alien invasion at the time. Somehow, a part of Steve still felt unsatisfied by this. However, if he were honest with himself, their introductions were less than ideal, so really, would he have been open to a heart-to-heart with Stark then? Probably not. At least they parted on agreeable terms or he liked to think so.

Besides, reconnecting with the past has been Steve’s mission. Not Stark’s.

After tense moments of paced breathing, Peggy eventually relaxed. Opening her eyes to stare up at the bland ceiling, a noticeable shimmer glossed over her world weary eyes. A tear managed to glide down the many valleys of her face when she turned her head towards Steve, but she paid it no mind. The corners of her mouth curled, heavy with emotion and with a knowing that only the seasoned in life were privy to.

“What you are missing, Steve, is how tempting it is to run away from ourselves when all we know is pain. The deeper the pain, the further we run, especially when we think ourselves responsible, like all children often do. Genius or not, Anthony was no exception and even if he was, Howard made sure he thought everything was his fault. So, no, I’m not surprised he didn’t mention me. I’m forever tied to something much too painful.”

More tears chased a path down her cheeks, her next words gaining a depth of meaning.

“All we can do is our best and, sometimes, the best that we can do is to start over. I wanted that for Anthony and now, I want that for you, Steve. Live this new life and be happy. Forget the past, but remember to live today.”

#fanfiction #steve rogers #peggy carter #tony stark #howard stark #maria stark #memory sequence #been sitting unfinished forever #just wanted to get it out there #tired of staring at it in my saved files #unfinished Stony fic

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wrathandlight-blog · 7 years

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○ Short bio: Lee Min Hwan

Born with the Korean Empire in 1897 - Younger twin, who grew from a crybaby to a confident young man - Talented liar who welcomes people without caring much for them - Has a strong Korean pride, and can be harsh if you criticize his people. Quite judgmental - Fine with being alone and away from other countries

○ Details:

Age | 18-19

Nickname / Alias | Light (as an assassin)

Birthday | August 15th

Residence | Seoul, South Korea

Height | 5'9 / 1m75

Weight | 62 kg

Handedness | Right handed

Tattoos / Marks | A scar on his shoulder blade, from the war, and another one on his thigh, which was caused by a military training gone wrong.

Education | He has a diploma in Economy and another in Information Communications Systems

Actual job | Works for a newspaper, mostly as a photographer although he sometimes writes articles too.

Sexuality | Asexual/Romantic orientation unknown

Favorite weapon | A gun, more exactly a Daewoo Precision Industries K5

Phobias / Fears | Being forgotten, nightmares

Bad Habits / Vices | Takes pills to remain awake for days, rather than accepting to rest. He also mixes energy drinks and coffee.

Quirks | Touching his lips when he is thinking, and not respecting personal space.

Style of Speech | Rich, often with a hint of amusement when the topic pleases him. He doesn't have a 'young' speech pattern though, and expresses himself more like the old Korean generation.

Disability | Suffers from a light hearing loss

Other | Loves photography and owns five cameras.

○ Personality:

Life is a series of calculated risks. You cannot earn your freedom without putting your life on the line. Working hard is the key to survival, the lone way to rise and shine as bright as the sun. Being a dragon doesn't happen by sitting in a corner and awaiting for the world to change by itself. I pushed myself as far as I could while growing up, after witnessing devastation and countless deaths which could have been prevented without people's greed. Many believe, wrongly, in a possible friendship between other nations and myself. This is an illusion, a giant game of play pretend we all have to throw ourselves in from time to time. America aggravates me on a daily basis. Years of forced control, and poor communication, have caused me a great distrust towards him. And I treat the ones around me in a similar fashion. Japan and China use and abuse their power to expand their influence without caring about my existence in the slightest. Therefore, I have no respect or affection towards them.

My only family is a problematic twin brother with a tendency to threaten everyone on Earth to ensure he will be heard. Foolishly, foreigners appear to believe I represent the positive side, as I am the one who survived every trial they kept throwing at me. They picture me as gentle while my sibling is the bully. Bullshit. Kindness will never rule my mind, and I am not one to absolve or forget. My country' strength lays in our constant endeavor to ensure we will not be left behind once more. Sleep is not mandatory to achieve my goals, as I am unable to disappear in the first place. Therefore, I force my body to stand, filling it with pills and drinks which keep me awake for days until I collapse, the world turning black and vanishing. What else can I do when my citizens are giving everything they have each passing day? My own health does not matter much, as I will always remain strong as long as they are.

Lies have always been part of me, for as long as I can remember. Sweet ones over harsh truth, pretending I am not plagued by a constant fear of losing everything, this is how I live. My mind has been weakened by misery more than once, as I suffered to grow in a world where support was minimal. My wicked way of resting only from time to time allow me to sleep without any dream or nightmare. If not, I do not think I would be able to handle any of this. Some immortals seem to be unable to live among humans, nonetheless I am the opposite. I feel more at ease with the ones who do not have to endure the weight of being a nation. Drinking coffee or partying with my people is different than having to listen to centuries of mistakes.

Lately, I have gotten a job at a newspaper. Oh, most of what we do is online by now, yet it reminds me of my younger days, when I had a similar job. Information rules the world, and dictates what we have to do. I found it fascinating. I've always been curious, although too proud of myself and my country to truly believe anyone else can beat us. When I travel, I carry a camera with me everywhere, trying to catch a glimpse of a life which isn't mine. Before, my walls were filled with pictures, and dreams perhaps. No matter how childish and meaningless the word sounds. Eventually, I took the pictures off the walls putting them in boxes in my closet. Memories cause too many heartaches, and I'm sick of it.

In spite of my physical age, I'm invested in the army, having done the mandatory military service a couple of times already. Unlike my sibling, I have an affinity for guns, and not getting too much blood on my hands. Killing is sometimes unavoidable though. Korea is not only about dramas and music, and my people, unlike foreigners, do not have the luxury of forgetting it. I will not dwell on my relationship with my sibling's leaders, or else I would rant for hours. Being treated like children on both sides is disgusting, and the ones who rule us should learn to be less self-centered one day. Corruption harms my country every day, and I wish nothing more than to put an end to it. I caused some of it, when I was younger and naive, accepting to trust blindly. And now I can only wait for my superiors to mess up and be evicted from power.

Praying will not do much to change any of this. I used to be a believer, one who switched religions more than once. Being agnostic fits me for now, although I consider that such matters can evolve with their bearer. I have a vivid memory of joining my hands together and whispering the names of all the gods I'd heard of when the economy kept collapsing and I believed I would never get to stand again. Nowadays, I realize I should have done something, rather than crying. Being a child is rough, and I am still one, barely an adult under my own law. Being older than my brother bothers me greatly. We should still be similar, instead of not recognizing each other at all. We are not identical twins, in case you were wondering. When we were younger it was harder to tell, and we loved the similarities between our faces.

Then the war came, wrecking everything. Bombs damaged my hearing slightly, and most people do not even notice it. As long as you don't whisper without facing me, I can perfectly hear what you are saying. Only the doctors who have taken care of me are aware of this, and my superiors. I did not even tell my sibling. He got his brain crushed like a grape, losing his memories. This is nothing in comparison and we are not doing another pity party. We have enough of them each time we meet and end up shouting at each other. At some point, we managed to get along rather well, until I was branded a capitalist traitor once again.

Whatever. I exist for my people, not for anyone else. My fears and problems do not matter in the slightest. I can have stage fright, and be terrified of dreams, yet it will not do anything for my country. Therefore, I'll continue to push everything away, using all my pride.

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