#he accepted the nomination and put himself through the burden in the hopes it would give Bennie a grand opportunity

[postcards-from-richard-nixon]

"The President-Elect finally left Concord on Monday, February 14, and stayed in Boston with Mrs. Pierce until Wednesday. Then he bade her a sad farewell, ordered a bouquet and a bracelet to be delivered to her later in the day and set forth to his great responsibility with Webster and O'Neil. He had proudly planned to have Bennie with him on the great day so that he could witness his father's triumph and remember it ever afterward. Now he must go through the ordeal alone— and with a sense of guilt."

—Franklin Pierce: Young Hickory of the Granite Hills by Roy F. Nichols, Second Edition 1958, Pg. 231.

[suchalonelysunflower]

A Different Kind of Night (h.s)

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: Is the Grammys! And you’re spending it at home with your handsome nominee.

Warnings: Fluff. Mentions of alcohol, COVID, anxiety and a bit of smut if you squint your eyes. Also, maybe some grammatical mistakes (English is not my first language. I’m sorry)

Word Count: 2.6 k

Author’s Note: let me start by saying that 1) the Grammys are rigged and I don’t trust them. 2) I haven’t seen the Grammys in years so I don’t know exactly how the awards go and 3) While this is a piece of fiction, I love Harry and I hope he brings home one golden record player 💕 Remember that Reblogs, Comments, Feedbacks and Likes are very important! You don’t know how much it helps me ❤️ Happy early Valentine’s Day. Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻✨

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

“Harry, did you get the drinks?” You asked as you walked down the stairs.

“Go’em ready in the living room, love” Your boyfriend's answer came from the kitchen, his shoes clicking against the wooden floor as he made his way to where you were fixing your hair at the end of the stairs.

The moment he saw you, all dressed up and giddy, he let out a loud whistle. You felt your cheeks turn a tinted red as you felt his eyes checking you out up and down.

“Well look at you, pet,” He said with a grin as he walked towards you, rounding his arm on your waist and pulling you closer to him “You look stunning”

He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, making you giggle as his stubble tickled your skin.

“I wanted to look good tonight,” You said with a shy smile “Even if no one is going to see me”

Harry hummed close to your ear “Lucky me, then. Don’t have to worry about anyone stealing you away from me”

You scoffed “As if that were possible” With one last kiss on his cheek, you started to walk away. But not before Harry stole one small squeeze to your butt, making you gasp and shoot him a knowing glance as you turned into the kitchen, still able to hear him laugh.

You stepped into the kitchen and made sure the finger food you ordered was ready and placed in the tray. You wanted to make tonight extra special for him despite everything that was going on.

After pushing it back a few dates, the Grammys were finally happening tonight. Given the circumstances though, they were being held in an empty theatre while all the nominees stayed home and watched the ceremony.

Upon hearing the news, Harry was understandably a bit bummed out, but then he thought better of it “At least I’ll get to spend the evening with you” He said with a grin.

It was true. If it weren’t for the norms applied for the ceremony, you weren’t going to be able to celebrate with him. At least, not at that moment. That’s the downside of having a secret relationship.

You were used to it, though. Years of sneaking around and secret rendezvous made you an expert on the topic of privacy. It was something you both agreed on earlier on in the relationship, not wanting to attract the wrong kind of attention towards the two of you.

And yes, although that meant to have to deal with all the rumors of your boyfriend dating other celebrities and see him up and about in different galas where you had to maintain your distance until you were sure there were no peeking cameras, you wouldn’t change this for the world.

You loved Harry Styles as much as the next person did. But you much rather have Harry, just Harry all to yourself. And that made you one of the luckiest people on earth according to you.

“It’s weird to see the red carpet so empty,” You said as you walked into the living room holding the tray of food. Smiling at seeing Harry already seated comfortably with a glass of wine having already poured you a glass as well.

“Pfft. It’s boring anyway” He said, helping you set the food before you sat down with him, kicking your shoes under the table and cuddling next to him “You just walk, then stop to take some pictures, then talk to some random interviewer for a random channel, say you’re excited to be there and to be wearing Gucci and keep walking”

“Oh yeah, sounds dreadful” Sarcasm clear in your voice “I don’t know how you could survive that”

He grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it your way, making you squeal before you retaliated with some salted peanuts, starting a small but very chaotic food fight among the two of you.

You were glad that it was only the two of you. While Harry’s manager offered to make a big celebration in his name for being nominated, he opted not to. Not only because he already received well-deserved repercussions for partying in the middle of a pandemic, but because this was a special moment for him and, even though he won’t admit it, he is scared of letting everyone down if he doesn’t get the win.

You, however, still wanted to make the night special for him. So you suggested you dress up for the red carpet- even if the only carpet you’d walk on is the one in the living room, get drunk and let whatever needs to happen: happen.

He loved the idea, although now he was starting to have second thoughts “‘m not gonna clean this” He said after taking into account the mess you both created.

Popcorn was scattered across the sofa and the rug, he had some pieces of peanuts tangled in his curls and on his suit. You didn’t want to look in the mirror to check how you ended up.

“Well, I wasn’t the one who started it,” You said, shrugging as you took a sip from your wine.

He crooked one eyebrow at you, ready to make his usual teasing comments known. But just as he opened his mouth, the opening number of the ceremony was starting.

The Grammys were broadcasted on tv, but all the nominees had a link where they should enter the moment their category is announced. Harry got it all set up in the living room, the computer and the camera ready to focus on him when needed. Yes, this was odd, everything was odd in these trying times. But you were glad they managed to pull through it and celebrate the artists like they deserve, even if it’s miles apart for their safety.

You enjoyed the first few numbers, chatting over your bets about who will win what category, yelling at the tv whenever your favorites didn’t receive the golden record player, and laughing at the bad jokes of the presenters.

When the pop categories came, however, the both of you were quiet as a mouse.

You knew Harry was nervous, you’ve never seen him fidgeting this much before. You gave him your hand to hold, to distract himself a little bit and for him to feel your unconditional support, and he squeezed it hard, placing a kiss on your knuckles and patting it softly with his other hand before covering it with it as his leg started moving up and down with a quick pace.

This side of him always surprised you. You were still amazed at how confident Harry was on stage and with people from the industry, yet when it was just the two of you, you could see the real him. The doubts, the second-guessing, the frustrations, the fears, and sadness of a real person. Not from the one that’s putting on a show to please strangers in a room. With you he allowed himself to feel, really feel like he couldn’t do outside the doors of your shared home. And you knew these nominations were eating him up from the inside with the anxiety it produced on him.

Harry was a perfectionist. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders since he was sixteen, having the responsibility and burden to carry it without a word of complaint. He gave himself out on this album, showing parts of himself his fans would appreciate and accept. The pressure he had was unbearable and he still made it out of bed every morning, ready to give the world more than it could ever ask for.

You were proud of him, you always were and you told him time and time again, knowing he appreciated more than he could say. But sometimes you wished you could take him away for some time, letting him relax and breathe without constantly having to check himself if he did a wrong move or not. If he wins tonight, at least he will know it was all worth it.

The first two nominations were called. You could feel how hard he gripped your hand before he was asked to appear in front of the camera he set up in front of him. He tried to appear unbothered, but only you noticed the way his eyes gleamed with a shimmer of hope.

Harry waved at the camera and politely nodded whenever his name was being announced with his leg bouncing out of frame. But when the presenters called another name, he was the one clapping enthusiastically as his other colleagues received the acclaimed award. Never letting his true feelings show on his face.

You never asked if he was okay after he didn’t win, you knew he would say he is and brush it off like it was nothing. But you also knew that he needed your support at this moment and you gave it freely and lovingly. Cuddling next to him and soothing his hair as he let your hand run through his curls. It was the little moments, the details that let him know that he is loved. And he feels so lucky to be loved by you.

He told you time and time again and proved it to you thousand times more. But every time he said it, every time he showed it… it still brought butterflies to your entire being.

“Okay, love,” He said as soon as they cut through commercials for what it seemed like the tenth time “The album category is up next”

He said that with a serious face. You could tell that he was nervous, it was the most important award in the pop category; he had some strong contenders this year and was not at all convinced that he would win, especially given his other two losses.

You were about to say something, wanting nothing more than to comfort him and shake that mental frown away. But a notification rang on the computer, letting him know that it was time to get online and let people see him as he waited to be called.

He looked at you and smiled, letting you know that he was okay. “It’s just a stupid award,” He said, but you knew it meant more than that.

You smiled understandingly back at him and kissed him on the cheek before getting up to stand in front of the tv but behind the camera as you did in his previous nominations of the night, making it seem like he was alone.

“You got this” You mouthed at him from where you were standing, sending him an encouraging smile and two thumbs up. He replied with a wink and his award-winning smirk as the announcer called his name among the nominees.

Harry waved at the camera and you can already see his name trending on Twitter right now, it’s been too long since his fans have seen him up close and he knew very well what he was doing. That smug bastard.

While the presenter was calling the other nominees, your phone rang. You quickly grabbed it from the table and thanked the gods’ Harry’s vídeo was muted for the time being.

“Hello?” You said quietly, not really paying attention at the name of the caller before you picked up.

Harry had his eyes on the camera, but he furrowed his eyebrows to let you know that he was just as curious as you to know who was calling at this time and at this moment.

“You need to open the door, now!” It was Jeff’s voice. He sounded frantic as he hung up immediately after.

You stood there confused for a second before realizing what was happening.

“And the winner for best pop vocal album is…. Harry Styles’ Fine Line!”

Harry’s eyes widened as he heard his name being called as the winner. He started looking around for you, but you were now gone from your spot only to return seconds later with a golden record player in your hands and tearful eyes.

You were now standing at his side, face away from the camera as the viewers could only see your arms extending the award towards Harry, who had the most beautiful and genuine smile you’ve ever seen.

He took the award and threw it on the sofa next to him, quickly standing enough to reach your face and giving you a one in a lifetime kiss. Not caring that he was on national television at the moment. He was happy.

You felt how his hands cupped your cheek softly as his lips melted with yours. It tasted salty and you didn’t know if it was because of the popcorn or the happy tears on both your eyes. You only knew that this was one of the greatest moments of his life and you were lucky enough to witness it with him.

Soon, Harry had to let go of you, smiling widely at you and mouthing an “I love you” as he sat back down to start his speech. You quickly went back to your place behind the camera and smiled at him with utter pride.

You knew how much he worked for this, to separate himself from the kid he once was and to start his own career by just being Harry. And to see him smile like that… Harry only smiled like that when he was with you. His childlike grin and sparkle in his eyes brought life to your shared home as he held the award close to his heart, finally grasping the idea that that little boy from Cheshire made it.

He made it.

“... I want to thank my mum and my sister, who were always there for me. To the fans that made this record so special and have gifted me with their enormous support. And I want to thank the person I love most in this life” He said, lifting his gaze to meet your teary eyes. He smiled like a thousand suns and gave you a look that was just exuberant with love before placing his eyes back on the camera. “I love you and I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you so much for this”

You waited a good five seconds after his transmission ended before jumping at him on the sofa, wrapping your arms around him as you plastered kisses all over his face.

“I told you you were going to win!” You said excitedly.

He laughed and kiss your lips with passion “You did” He said between kisses “And I didn’t believe you” one more kiss “If this is not a sign for me to admit that you’re always right, I don’t know what it is”

You smiled before kissing him again, this time with more intent as you let him deepen the kiss, parting your lips as you granted him more access.

Harry grabbed you by the legs and made you straddle his lap, not breaking the kiss once as his hands roamed your back with soft touches.

“You know…” You said, letting out a sigh as his mouth traveled from your lips to your neck “You just kissed me in front of a camera”

He hummed, sending vibrations all over your pulse point “That I did”

“It’s going to be all over Twitter tomorrow”

“I don’t much care right now,” He said, placing his hands on your ass, making your hips slightly buckle against his front as he continued to ravish your neck and collarbones, leaving a trail of marks and soft breaths to follow later.

You chuckled, tangling your fingers through his hair, tugging it lightly so his eyes were on yours once again “Harry, you just won a Grammy!”

“That I did, too” He smirked, pure joy visible in his eyes.

“And how would you want to celebrate? My Grammy award winning boyfriend” You said, moving your hips with more intent and making him let out a groan.

Harry’s pupils grew and turned his eyes into a deep forest green, looking at you hungrily while he grinned “I got a couple of ideas”

*

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @sarcasticallywitty15 @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @bubblegum18 @irwin-fletcher-ash @multistann @tenaciousperfectionunknown @sunflowercherry

[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.X: Was it Worth it in the End? Part Two

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, very heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting and injury, weapons, blood and gore, brief mention of a mutilated animal corpse, minor character death, description of trauma and mental illness, brief mention of suicide, mentions of murder, satanic themes and ritual, etc. 

Trigger Warning: This chapter does contain graphic and explicit themes regarding violence, trauma, and death. Please do not read if this will harm you. This is your final warning.

word count: 10,6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

The nighttime is hushed, almost anxious as Minho maneuvers his way past gravestones and overgrown shrubbery. It’s almost like nature itself is too afraid of accidentally provoking the witch, sensing the torpedo of dark magic and violent sorrow stirring through his veins. He peers up at the crimson moon, grateful for the illumination it provides, and continues down his path—ignorant of the cold air bleeding into his flesh. 

Minho knows this is probably not the best time for a visit, aware that his ex-covenmates are likely plotting some sort of mission to overthrow him, but he doesn’t care—he can’t care anymore. A part of him, the shameful, guilty part of his mind. actually hopes they will succeed, at least then, he would no longer have to endure the pain that comes with bearing this black magic. He can feel its poison rushing through his veins, seering his body from the inside out, killing his soul over and over and over again… 

But isn’t this what he wanted? Revenge? Retribution? Minho performed that spell to hurt the very friends that hurt him—to hurt Mark, and he got his wish… so why does it feel like the world is caving in around him, swallowing him whole? 

Once he reaches his destination, Minho collapses to his knees, unable to bear the weight of his burdens. His eyes burn with tears, but he doesn’t allow himself to cry. A silent gust of wind strokes his cheeks, painting his skin red with bitterness and anger. He welcomes the cold air, accepting the punishment, before lifting his hand to splay his fingers against the even colder surface of the headstone. 

“I’m sorry…” Minho whimpers, “It didn’t have to be like this…” 

The silence heightens his anguish—deepens the wounds in his heart. 

If he could take it all back, he would… but he can’t. 

“I wish you were here, noona…” 

His murmur is lost to the wind, but it doesn’t matter. He climbs back to his feet before sparing one final glance at the burial place of his lost friend. After a deep inhale and a wordless goodbye, Minho turns and hastily begins back toward the mausoleum. 

He was allowed this one moment of weakness—now he must get back to the horrible reality he manifested for himself. 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Can you be any more obvious…?” 

Mark quickly awakens from his mindless trance, discovering, to his dismay, Dahyun looking down at him with a single raised, all-knowing eyebrow. He fakes a cough into his elbow before shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You’re kidding me, right?... You literally haven’t taken your eyes off of her since we met up in the forest.” 

Heat immediately rises to Mark’s cheeks. As if on instinct, his eyes trail back to his subject of interest, watching as you wipe the sweat from Jaebeom’s girlfriend’s forehead and neck before shifting to do the same to Felix. It’s such a simple action, but you somehow look so ethereal—almost like an angel sent from heaven. 

He curses himself for his own cheesiness, then releases a defeated sigh. 

“We got into a pretty big fight earlier.” 

“Then don’t you think you should—I don’t know—talk to her instead of staring her down like a creep?” 

“I think the last thing she wants to do is talk to me.” Mark drags a hand through his hair. “I… said some really stupid shit in the heat of the moment. She probably hates me.” 

Dahyun scoffs, “God, you are such a fucking idiot.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you need to get your ass over there and apologize to that girl.” 

Her harsh tone doesn’t falter beneath his glare, nor does her tenacious expression as the two proceed with their silent staring contest. After a minute or two, Dahyun breaks off the competition with a long, heavy sigh. Her eyes are soft when she looks back at him, and suddenly Mark finds the dried mud on his shoes a lot more interesting. 

“Mark, anyone can see how much you care about her—how much she cares about you.” Even when a gentle hand caresses his shoulder, the witch keeps his attention to the floor. “(Y/N) could never hate you—no matter how much stupid shit you pull.” She snickers, “And you pull a lot of stupid shit, so that has to account for something.”

He can’t help the amused chuckle that falls from his own lips. 

“Thanks, Dubu.” Mark says, tilting his head to finally meet the warmth of her gaze. 

“She’s a good one—a really good one, Mark.” The wolf hums, “Don’t let it be your fear that pushes her away.” She doesn’t give him a chance to reply further, pacing to a nearby corner to join a conversing Bang Chan and Yugyeom. 

Sparing the wolf trio one final glance, Mark musters up the remaining courage he has left and pushes from his perch against the kitchen countertop. He forces himself to walk in your direction—each step releasing more butterflies into the confines of his stomach. Once he reaches you, close enough to touch your turned back, he almost chickens out, content with spending the rest of the night watching you like hawk, but the sound of Felix’s breathy voice locks him in place: 

“—Channie-hyung and I have always wanted to go to Chicago… Is-Is it as windy as they say?” 

“Even windier.” You say with a laugh. “I can’t tell you how many scarves I lost, and don’t get me started on how freaking cold the winters are.”

Felix laughs too, although it resonates as more of a wheeze than anything. 

You shrug, “It’s a gorgeous city though—probably my most favorite place I’ve ever lived.” 

“Then why did you leave? If you loved it so much?” 

Mark’s interest piques when he notices how your figure grows tense at the young boy’s croak. He’s heard his fair share of stories of your heartfelt time in the Windy City, but he never quite figured out why you ultimately decided to move to Moon Dye Bay. You’ve always been reluctant to reveal certain details from your past, especially regarding your time in the foster system, but even then Mark has been able to pry the worst memories from your brain. 

This subject, however, has been a brick wall. 

“Because I couldn’t stay.” You finally answer, “It’s complicated, but something happened and basically I—” 

“(Y/N)?” 

He silently cusses as Felix interrupts your explanation, but his annoyance dissipates at the panicked expression etched along the teenager’s sweaty face. 

“What is it, Felix?” You shift your position on his bedside to better face the boy, leaning forward to place a gentle hand on his forehead. Mark can only imagine how hot the skin is to the touch. 

Felix’s words crack as they leave his lips, slicing at the witch’s heart like a dagger: 

“Am… Am I gonna die?”

“Of course not.” You immediately say, but Mark can sense the uneasiness in your tone. “Everyone is doing everything they can to help you, okay?... You’re gonna get through this, and one day you and your brother are gonna go see Chicago yourselves and try not to get blown away into the next century.” 

Felix sleepily chuckles, “Thanks, (Y/N).” 

“You should get some sleep.” The moment the command leaves your lips, Felix is already closing his eyes and diving headfirst into dreamland. Not wanting to startle you, Mark waits a couple seconds—partly to give you time to regain your composure, and partly to give himself time to think of what to say. However, he doesn’t have much of a choice when you suddenly turn, growing aware of his presence. A frown overtakes your face, and he instantly regrets ever leaving his countertop. 

“Did you need something?” 

“No—yes, I mean—shit.” Mark buries a hand in his tresses to tug at his roots, attempting to juggle between putting together the right spoken words and reminding his body to breathe. “(Y/N), I—” 

“If you came to apologize, I don’t want to hear it.” He helplessly watches as you rise from the bed before tossing your used rag on a nearby table. “I think you made yourself pretty clear back at my apartment.” 

“I shouldn’t have said what I said—” Before you can storm away, Mark latches his fingers around your wrist. “—please. Just give me a chance to explain.” 

Your shoulders rise and fall in a heavy sigh, but you make no move to tear away from his grip and he takes it as a chance to continue: 

“After my mom died, I was so fucking angry…” Mark notices your surprised gaze when you lift your head, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. “I was angry at the world, at her, at myself… and when my magic began to show up, things got a whole lot worse.” He shakes his head, “I thought about just ending it—jump into the bay or maybe drink myself to death—but then I met…” 

“Then you met Jackson.” 

“He taught me how to deal with the anger—to use it as a tool, not a weapon.” His eyes begin to burn at the countless memories that reel through his mind. “It was because of him I learned how to control my powers, and I was able to bring the coven together—hell, he was the one who told them to nominate me as Regent, which right now, seemed like the worst fucking decision on the planet.” 

Mark takes a moment to blink away his tears before taking a seat on an empty cot. He still can’t find it in himself to glance at your face, keeping his eyes trained to the wooden flooring. 

“But when Jackson had an idea, there was no stopping him.” He chuckles sarcastically, “The bastard was as stubborn as a goddamn mule.” 

“What happened to Jackson, Mark?” Your voice is both a sweet lullaby and a screeching siren against his ears. “How did he die? Really?” 

“The initial plan was to infuse enough magic into Jackson’s werewolf form so his venom would be lethal to the Primes, or at the very least, to Jinyoung. It all went smoothly in the beginning, I was able to channel enough power to complete the transformation… but something went wrong—

“—Jackson was different when he shifted. He was ruthless… He didn’t want to just kill the Primes—he wanted to slaughter every vampire along with those who protect the secrets of their existence… no matter if they were witch, werewolf, human—they all deserved to die…

“The combination of his determination and the bloodlust drove him fucking mad… If Jaebeom hadn’t ripped out his heart, there’s telling what he would have done—who he would have killed…” 

Mark leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, attempting to hide his shame beneath the curl of his bangs. “—Jaebeom may have dealt the final blow, but Jackson died because the dark magic I used turned him into a monster—he’s dead because of me…” 

Silence encompasses the room like a vice grip to the throat. For a moment, Mark believes you left him, too disgusted and ashamed to even breathe the same air as him, but the entrance of your worn boots into his vision proves otherwise. The image is replaced by your face when you kneel in front of his broken figure, laying your hands over each bicep. He notices your touch is gentle, but not hesitant, and warm—always so warm. 

“You can’t blame yourself for his death, Mark.” Mark doesn’t realize he’s crying until you wipe a tear from his cheek. “How could you have known what that spell would do? You couldn’t have—”

“Magic always comes with price—especially dark magic.” He whispers, unable to hold back more liquid sadness as it trails down his skin. “(Y/N), if I ever lost you the same way I lost Jackson, my mom, I—” 

Mark’s voice cuts out into a sob, and once your arms wind around his form, he completely breaks, releasing every ounce of repressed sadness and despair and pain into the crook of your neck. He knows he’s selfish for melting into your embrace—for consuming your comfort like a demon expelled from the heavens—but he doesn’t care. 

When you guide his eyes to meet your own, Mark can spot the glassiness of your own orbs in the artificial light—along with enough compassion and ardor to send another flood of tears down his face. 

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” You affirm, your tone unwavering and stern. “I’m here—and no matter how many times you fall, I’m gonna be here to pick you up…

“I’m here, Mark… Do you understand me?” 

He nods with a sniffle, tightly squeezing your hands between his own. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You smile at his apology. 

“I’m sorry too… for everything.” 

“Just… No more secrets. For real, this time.” 

“For real, this time.” Mark’s heart rate picks up when he suddenly notices how close his face is to yours. From this angle, he can count the constellations glistening within your eyes and map the delicate curves of your facial features. If he were to lean just an inch closer, just one tiny inch, his lips would be on your own—

“Sorry to interrupt, but we have an issue.” At Yugyeom’s statement, you and Mark immediately wrench away from one another, almost as if having been caught engaging in forbidden territory. Mark pretends he doesn’t miss the weight of your hands inside his own as he rises from the cot, making sure to put an appropriate amount of distance between his and your shoulders. 

He clears his throat before humming, “What’s going on?” 

“Chan wants to go and find Chaeyoung’s body.” Although Yugyeom’s face remains neutral, Mark can see the sadness lingering within his eyes at the mention of his fallen packmate. “He doesn’t remember exactly where she was, so him, Dahyun, and I are going to search the forest.” 

You immediately shake your head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Sunrise isn’t for at least another hour, and we have no way of knowing Youngjae broke the curse yet.” 

“I’m with (Y/N) on this one, Gyeom.” Mark agrees, “We’re safest here in the bunker.” 

“We can’t just leave her out there. I mean, she—” Yugyeom cuts himself off with a heavy sigh, before continuing in a softer tone, “You know how it feels to lose someone, hyung… Chaeyoung is—was… our family.” 

Mark takes a moment of silence to ponder, conflicted between his common sense and Yugyeom’s pleading gaze. As you said, sunrise is an hour away—but Youngjae, the coven and the Primes should have overthrown Minho by now, right? Plus, he literally blew Changbin’s head off with that shotgun. There’s no way his body could regenerate that quickly… 

“We’re all staying together.” He finally says, moving toward the kitchenette to grab his weapon from its perch on the counter. “And if anything seems shady, it’s an immediate retreat.” 

Yugyeom delivers a nod before heading off to gather the other wolves. Mark moves toward the bunker exit, but is stopped by your form. A heavy sigh cascades from his lips—just from your expression, he knows this conversation isn’t going to go his way. 

“(Y/N)—” 

“If you’re gonna tell me I can’t go with you, don’t even bother.” 

He shakes his head, “It’s too dangerous…” 

“If someone tells me that one more goddamn time—” He can’t help the tiny smile that spreads across his face at the sassy way you roll your eyes. And he doesn’t protest when you move to follow Dahyun up the ladder. 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Youngjae inhales a deep breath, taking the moment to feel his lungs expand, before releasing the air in an even deeper exhale. Even with the relaxation attempt, his body remains tense and his thoughts disorderly. He can’t help but feel as if Minho is waiting somewhere in the darkness of the crypt, ready to pounce on him like a predator to its prey. 

Would he toy with his catch first? Or would he skip the pleasantries and go right in for the kill? 

A hand appears on his shoulder, wrenching Youngjae from his morbid daydream. He angles his head to meet Lia’s concerned gaze and immediately tries to mask his fear beneath an expression of indifference. Unsurprisingly, the female witch sees right through his facade:

“I’ve known you practically my whole life, Youngjae. Whatever it is, you can’t hide it from me.” 

His shoulders sag in defeat as a sigh blows past his lips. 

“I’m just… worried about Mark-hyung. He’s powerless out there.”

“Mark is smart—he’ll know what to do if he finds himself in trouble.” 

“And if he doesn’t?... I-I mean, what if Minho or Changbin found him before he could warn the pack? He could be dead for all we know—” 

Lia silences his desperate quip with a shake of her head, “You shouldn’t think like that right now—” 

“What else am I supposed to do?” Youngjae runs a frustrated hand through his hair before gesturing toward the main exit of their underground penitentiary. “Even with yours and Jisung’s energy, I don’t have enough power to take down the barrier spell.” 

“Help is on the way—” 

“How do you know that for sure?” 

Lia remains silent, simply continuing to stare at Youngjae. He feels almost uncomfortable beneath her gaze, resisting the urge to shrink back and become one with the shadows. 

“I don’t know… but I have faith.” She murmurs after a brief moment. “We’ve lost a lot, but I still believe that we’ll all somehow manage to come out of this alive. You should try doing the same.” 

With that, Lia leaves to speak with a dangerously quiet Jisung. Youngjae spares the pair a single glance before heading toward the crypt entryway. A single beam of moonlight illuminates the exit stairway, almost as if mocking him about his inability to escape the dingy prison. 

Youngjae knows Lia is right—of course she’s right. Worrying about the possible pitfalls of this plan won’t help him, or Mark, or anyone. He can only pray that his mentor safely found his way out of the cemetery and is sending backup right this very moment. 

He needs to have hope, if nothing else. 

“What if we somehow lure Minho down here?” Youngjae’s thoughts quiet at Lia’s suggestion, angling his head to meet her gaze. “Technically Youngjae just needs to touch him to siphon his magic… so why don’t we bring him to us?” 

“Minho-hyung won’t step past the barrier.” Jisung dissents, dragging his fingers through his already tousled hair. “He probably knows we’re planning something against him, so there’s no way he’ll believe whatever ruse we try to pull.” 

“Then we have no choice. Youngjae, are you sure you can’t take down the spell?” 

Youngjae sullenly shakes his head. 

“Is there something else you can siphon? Maybe the crypt itself?” 

“The crypt was built by humans.” He answers, “I can only draw power from the supernatural—”

“Then it’s a good thing my dear brother and I weren’t turned into superwolf bait.” 

Youngjae, along with the other witches, nearly leaps a foot in the air at the sudden voice. He whirls around to face the stairwell, which to his surprise, is now occupied by the last person he ever expected to see: 

Im Jaebeom. 

Jisung chokes, scurrying backward into the shadows as the hybrid approaches the trio. After taking purchase against the doorway, he offers his signature sly smirk. 

“Evening, Harry Potter and friends… Funny meeting you down here.” 

“Now is not the time for games, hyung.” Youngjae breathes a sigh of relief as Jinyoung’s voice echoes throughout the stone walls. Seconds later, he comes hustling down the staircase before shoving Jaebeom out of the way. The vampire then peers into the crypt, his gaze burning with the determination of a man at war. “Is anyone hurt?” 

“No. We’re okay.” Lia steps forward. “If you’re here, I’m guessing Mark reached the wolf pack?” 

“Your guess is correct.” Jinyoung nods, placing a hand against the invisible doorway. “My brother and I will do everything we can to help disarm the rogue, but I think it’d be best to free you all first.” 

Youngjae joins the conversation. “I can take down the barrier spell, but I’ll need to draw energy from one of you to do so.” 

“Let’s do this quickly then.” Jinyoung goes to roll up the sleeve of his white shirt, but is halted by his immortal companion. Surprise filters through Youngjae’s veins as Jaebeom shrugs the leather jacket from his shoulders with a huff: 

“With my luck, he’ll drain you dry and I’ll have to deal with this voodoo fucker myself. I think it’s best we use my energy—sorry not sorry.” 

“Alright, then.” Youngjae hums, “I’ll need you to push through the barrier just enough that I can touch you… It’s gonna hurt. A lot.” 

“Good thing I’m a sadomasochist.” Jaebeom snickers at his brother’s unamused expression, “Too much?” 

“Move your hand through that goddamn barrier before I throw you to the superwolf myself.” 

The hybrid rolls his eyes, but follows Jinyoung’s instructions and proceeds to force his limb past the invisible blockade. He remains silent, but Youngjae can spy the uncomfortable twitch of his eyebrow and the tension along his stone-cold features. Blood begins to bud along his knuckles like a patch of blooming roses before flowing down his pale skin the more he presses against the barrier.

The siphoner raises his hand in preparation. “Just a bit more.” 

A mere couple seconds later, Youngjae feels Jaebeom’s bloody flesh brush against his own. The skin-to-skin contact is slight, but enough, allowing the hybrid’s energy to spread through his veins like wildfire. Youngjae almost cries in relief as the magic conquers his entire body—a new kind of hope sparking somewhere within his chest. 

“Phasmatos Siprum… Emnis Abortum…” Youngjae murmurs, positioning both hands against the invisible wall. He feels it crumbling beneath his fingertips, unable to withstand the power flowing through his figure. “Fasila Quisa Exilum San… Fasila Quisa Exilum San…”

A proud grin stretches along his features as the barrier buckles, then completely shatters. With Lia and Jisung in tow, Youngjae beelines out of the crypt and into the stairwell where Jaebeom, who’s cleaning the crimson from his knuckles, and Jinyoung reside. The latter nods, which Youngjae is quick to return. 

“‘Kay, they’re free… Now what?” 

“Now we find Minho and end this once and for all.” Lia answers, not sparing the hybrid a glance as she dashes up the stairs. Youngjae and the rest of the group try to keep up with the female witch as best as they can, not faltering until they reach the surface. The cemetery is quiet when they emerge from the crypt, Youngjae notices—almost too quiet. 

He takes a short moment to breathe in the fresh night air before turning to a tense Jinyoung, “I need to get close enough to siphon Minho’s magic to perform the counterspell. You think you and your brother can find me a way in?” 

Jinyoung nods. “You can count on us.” 

“Stay close…” Lia warns with a sigh, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard already knows we’re free—” 

Lightning suddenly strikes a mere few feet from where Lia is standing, earning a chorus of screams and surprised gasps from the witch trio. Youngjae watches as Jinyoung speeds forward, grabbing Lia just in time to avoid being burnt to a crisp by a second bolt. With Jisung at his side, Youngjae quickly takes shelter underneath the overhang of a nearby tomb as even more lightning bombards the earth. He surveys the area, searching for the perpetrator responsible for the weather abnormalities. 

“Minho!...” Lia screeches from behind a large tree, her tone far less than friendly. “Quit being a fucking coward! Come out here and face us goddamnit!...” 

Youngjae huddles closer to Jisung as the wind suddenly picks up, ripping at his hair and clothing like a vengeful spirit. He moves to speak to his younger companion, but his words die on his tongue as the subject of the hour waltzes into view. The heavy gusts don’t seem to affect him, though that’s no surprise since the wretched weather is his doing. 

Minho smirks, “They say lightning never strikes one place twice… You must be really special then, Lia.” 

“Oh fuck off! We’re tired of playing your stupid games!” 

“This only ends one way, Minho—” Jinyoung says, cautiously moving from Lia’s side to approach the powerful witch. His steps, however, are halted by another vicious bolt of electricity. Youngjae attempts to make out Jaebeom’s form through the blurriness of his wind-induced tears, but the hybrid is nowhere to be found. “—so we can do it the easy way, or the hard way! The choice is yours!” 

“Last I checked, this isn’t your fight, Prime.”

“It became my fight the moment you threatened my family and my friends!” 

Minho snickers, “Trust me, I had every intention of ridding this town of you and your brother’s filth.” 

“Was it also your intention to kill an innocent werewolf girl!?” Youngjae’s heart drops at the vampire’s following statement. “Son Chaeyoung is dead because of Changbin—because of you!” 

“Every war has its casualties.” 

“And what of Felix!? Will his death just be another trivial loss in your obsession for revenge!?” 

This time, Youngjae notices the cockiness melt from Minho’s features into something akin to trepidation. The wailing of the wind picks up to a screech, nearly drowning out the dark-haired witch’s weak inquiry, “What are you talking about?”

“Felix was bitten… and is dying as we speak!” Jinyoung shakes his head frantically. “Do you believe he deserves this, Minho!? Do you believe Chaeyoung deserved to die!?... You can fix this—make this right!” 

Minho remains silent, and for a moment, Youngjae wonders if the witch will actually come to his senses and call off this whole ordeal. But just as soon as it appeared, the pained look along his features transitions into something more sinister.   

“We’re all gonna die someday, so what does it even fucking matter!?” 

“Are you hearing yourself!?” Lia screams from behind a nearby tree, “Look what you’ve become, Minho! How would Nayeon see you right now!” 

“Don’t bring her into this!” Minho’s hiss blends with the moans of the wind. Massive raindrops begin to pelt down against the earth, immediately soaking Youngjae to the bone. For the first time, he notices the dark witch’s position in relation to his own. Realistically, Youngjae can be at Minho’s side in mere milliseconds, before he has a chance to blink. If only he can get him to move a bit closer… 

As if reading his thoughts, Jinyoung attempts to coax the witch another step forward. 

“Please, Minho… I don’t wish to hurt you.”

The latter shakes his head with a chuckle. “It’s too fucking bad that you think you can.” 

Minho raises his hand, harshly forcing the vampire down against the muddy earth. Youngjae watches in horror as Jinyoung’s limbs begin to contort and rearrange against his own will—the sound of cracking bones and the vampire’s pained groans filling his ears like a haunting melody. He forces his gaze away from the gruesome sight and prepares to advance on the dark witch, but Jisung stops him with a hand to his shoulder: 

“Not yet, hyung.” 

“But Jinyoung—” 

“Trust me.” His eyes are wide with determination—Youngjae can’t remember a time he’s ever seen Jisung so fierce. “I have a plan. Wait here until my signal.” 

Though filled with confusion, Youngjae does as the young witch requests and stays in place while Jisung himself carefully maneuvers his way through gravestones and buildings, attempting to remain out of sight. A sudden burst of lightning cracks through the atmosphere, and at first, Youngjae fears Jisung has been caught, but quickly realizes Minho has his sights set on another party: 

“I was wondering when you’d join the fun—I looked forward to tearing your bitch-ass apart.” 

“I would say I’m flattered, but I rather like my ass.” Jaebeom saunters across a nearby rooftop. In the midst of the storm, he almost reminds Youngjae of a superhero—or more likely in his case, the psychotic supervillain. “Look, you’ve had your fun, kid. Now I suggest you release my brother and cut out all this petty-teenage bullshit before I break your body in places you never thought possible.” 

“That’s it?... And here I thought you’d want the antidote?” 

Jaebeom’s face darkens. 

“...So there is a cure?” 

“Of course. Every spell has its loophole.” Minho finally lowers his hand, ceasing the painful reconstruction of Jinyoung’s skeleton. Youngjae watches in confusion as the former retracts something from his pocket—some sort of vial, it seems—and offers it toward the hybrid. “The blood which Changbin drank to turn—it’ll heal anyone fallen victim to his bite.” 

“You better hand that over before I rip your teeth from your skull.” Jaebeom growls darkly, hopping down from his overhead perch.

The witch shakes his head, “Not so fast, Mr. Wolf… See, there was only so much left—enough to heal one lucky soul.” 

“You’re a sick fucking bastard,” Jaebeom spits. “You wanted this to happen—”

“Your little bloodsucking girlfriend is dying, isn’t she?” Minho tosses the vial toward the hybrid, who effortlessly catches it between two trembling fingers. “If you want to save her life, then I suggest you go before the venom does its job.” 

“Jaebeom-hyung, don’t—!” Jinyoung gasps, slithering across the muddy earth like an earthworm lost to the world. 

“You know she doesn’t have much time—” 

“We can’t do this without you—we need you!... I need you, hyung!”  

Jaebeom, staring at the tiny container in his grasp, doesn’t reply to his incapacitated companion. Youngjae curses the smirk that spreads across Minho’s face—a sign of victory—and attempts to spot Jisung and Lia somewhere between the ferocious raindrops. He has no such luck, and instead decides to pray for a miracle instead. 

“If you hadn’t fucked around with the few people I care about, I might have actually liked you.” Jaebeom murmurs with a sigh before tucking the vial into his pocket and sending the dark witch a malicious sneer. “Well isn’t that too fucking bad.” 

Youngjae leaps almost ten feet in the air as lightning strikes for what seems like the millionth time, although this time, it’s inches from where Minho is standing. After searching the area, Youngjae discovers Lia and Jisung across the way, hands clasped, eyes bright with passion, uttering some sort of offensive charm. Minho attempts to sprint in the opposite direction, but Jaebeom easily tackles the witch before he can get far. 

“Now Youngjae-hyung! Do it now!” 

At Jisung’s cue, Youngjae takes off into the rain. The bitter feel of Mother Nature’s tears against his skin quickens his movements, wanting nothing more then to end this hurricane, both literally and figuratively, once and for all. He reaches Minho in what seems like hours and hurries to grab his wrist—but just like the tides during a storm, the tables quickly turn. 

At the wave of Minho’s hand, Jaebeom goes flying across the cemetery, crashing into a stone statue and collapsing into the resulting rumble. White-hot pain spreads through Youngjae’s veins like a poison, freezing his muscles and immobilizing his limbs from any further movement. He collapses to the ground, where mud immediately clings to his clothing.

Minho rises to his feet before stepping on Youngjae’s hand with a cackle, “Don’t you fuckers get it!? I’m untouchable! You can’t fucking win!” 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Minho…” Youngjae chuckles, curling his fingers around the tread of the dark witch’s boot. Minho realizes his mistake as soon as the former’s hand begins to glow, foolishly attempting to squirm from his touch. 

Thunder roars in the distance as Youngjae grins in triumph: 

“Because unlike you… we’re not alone.” 

The last thing Youngjae sees before he loses consciousness is a flash of white and the bewildered face of the dark witch as he collapses beside him.   

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I take it Mark apologized?...” You nearly leap out of your own skin at the sudden inquiry. With a less than agitated frown, you turn to acknowledge the culprit for your almost heart attack. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear some of these supernaturals have powers of teleportation or something… 

“Goddamnit, Dahyun. Not all of us have superwolf hearing.” 

“Sorry, dearie. Force of habit.” The she-wolf offers an apologetic smile, moving forward to hook her arm with your own. She allows Yugyeom, Chan and Mark to gain a bit of distance ahead before repeating again, “So Mark…?” 

“We both talked it out and apologized… so everything’s okay now.” You hum—the tiny fib leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. 

Truthfully, your encounter with Mark left you conflicted. Of course, you’re more than glad he finally opened up about his past, and even more glad that he trusts you enough to reveal his lingering feelings of trauma, but there’s still a pretty big fucking elephant in the room—one involving his dead best friend and the fact you can talk to him beyond the grave. 

You should have told him then and there—right after you promised to abolish all secrets—but something inside you couldn’t do it… and you don’t know why. 

“Why are you so interested in Mark and I’s relationship anyway?” You utilize your curiosity as a distraction from the guilt breathing down your neck, angling your neck to peer at Dahyun’s side profile. “Is there… history between you two?” 

“No, no—nothing like that. Mark and I have just known each other since we were kids. Our moms were close friends, so Mark, Yugyeom and I pretty much grew up together.” 

“He never told me that.” 

“Don’t take it personal, sweetheart. Mark doesn’t like to talk about his past—” Dahyun sighs, “—too many bad memories between his dad and the bullshit that happened with his mom. He’ll come around eventually… he just needs more time.” 

“I know his mom passed when he was a teenager, but Mark never actually mentioned how she died…” You bite your lip, sending a curious glance to your wolf companion. “It’s really not fair to ask you, but—” 

“Mark found her in their own kitchen with her entire throat ripped open.” Dahyun’s blunt answer leaves your throat dry, unable to speak another word if you wanted to. “The sheriff ruled it as an animal attack, but I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out what really happened.” 

Your heart sinks, and you choose not to say anything further. 

“Dahyun! (Y/N)! Don’t get too far behind!” Chan’s voice echoes from somewhere up ahead. With the black of night beginning to fade, you can just make out his, Yugyeom, and Mark’s silhouettes a couple dozen feet away. Dahyun gives your forearm a gentle squeeze before releasing your conjoined limbs to catch up with her packmates. You do the same, meeting an armed Mark about halfway. 

His eyes glitter with concern underneath the fading starlight. 

“Everything okay…?” 

“Yeah, Dahyun and I were just catching up.” You inhale a deep breath before releasing it in an even heavier exhale. “But there is something I need to talk to you about—about Jackson and the whole resurrection thing.” 

Mark shakes his head, “You have every right to make your own decisions, (Y/N), but I wish you and Youngjae would have come to me.” 

“I know that, but it was more complicated than that—” You try to gather your thoughts while also attempting to make sense of your words. “I couldn’t tell you because, well—because Jackson told—” 

“Mark-hyung! We’ve got an issue!” Yugyeom’s warning immediately cuts off your explanation. Mark shoots you an apologetic glance before hurrying the two of you forward to join the wolf trio. It only takes seconds for you to distinguish the cause of the beta’s distress. 

A deer carcass lays precariously on the forest floor, and albeit it’s practically torn to shreds, you can just make out a single word carved into its bloody flesh: 

Die. 

“Shit—we need to go. Now.” 

“We’ve already come this far. Chae should be around here somewhere.” Chan ignores Mark’s directive, stepping over the animal corpse to traverse further through the forest. He barely takes a step before the witch is grabbing his wrist. “Let me go, hyung.” 

“Don’t be an idiot.” 

“Don’t tell me what to—”

“Shut the fuck up. Both of you.” Dahyun quietly hisses, “Listen.” 

You try to do as the she-wolf says, but all that meets your ears is the combination of your own labored breathing and uneven pulse. Judging by the confused expression along Mark’s face, he’s probably dealing with the same situation. 

“What is it?” 

“We’re being watched.” Yugyeom answers Mark’s inquiry in a whisper. “Mark, you and (Y/N) need to find somewhere to hide right now—Chan, Dubu, get ready to fight—”

As soon as the command leaves Yugyeom’s lips, Mark takes you by the arm and drags you behind a broad tree trunk. You fish Jinyoung’s pocket knife from your pocket while Mark cocks his shotgun in preparation. Who knew the day would come that you’d actually be grateful for the presence of two dangerous weapons…  

“If anything goes wrong—you run like hell, got it?” 

You shake your head at Mark’s demand. “I’m not just going to leave you—”  

“Yugyeom! Above you!” At Chan’s warning, you’re suddenly shoved to the ground by the witch, watching in horror as a deranged Changbin descends from the treetops onto the beta himself. His skin is a sickly ashen shade, and his black veins so prominent it would make a nurse weep. There’s no human emotion left inside his dark eyes as he strikes Yugyeom over and over again with his lengthy sharp talons, tearing open his skin like a birthday present—he’s a complete animal. 

“Bin, stop!” Chan throws his arms around Changbin’s shoulders in an attempt to pull him from Yugyeom, winding a tight arm around his throat before thrusting a knee against his spine. “Think about what you’re doing!” 

With Dahyun’s assistance, the two wolves manage to separate the dark wolf from that of Yugyeom’s wounded self. Even so, Changbin clearly does not appreciate being stolen away from his prey. He easily escapes from Chan’s hold, landing a couple heavy hits against the latter’s nose before shoving him to the ground. Dahyun takes the moment to strike, bringing the dark wolf to kneel with a harsh kick to his knee, but the action does minimal damage. Changbin punts the she-wolf a dozen feet away as if she weighs nothing. You wince as Dahyun connects with a nearby tree trunk with a vocal thud before dropping to the ground with no movements of rejoining the fight. 

“Shit…” You curse to yourself, “They won’t be able to take him down by themselves—he’s too fucking strong.” 

“Watch your ears.”  You notice Mark aiming his gun toward the dark wolf, waiting for an opportunity with his finger on the trigger. At his discretion, you cover your ears just in time for him to fire a first and second shot. A ferocious growl echoes through the trees, spreading goosebumps across your flesh like wildfire. 

You watch both Chan and Yugyeom take advantage of Changbin’s distraction. The alpha delivers a swift, yet heavy hit against his wounded shoulder while the beta goes for his legs. Similar to Dahyun, they manage to pin Changbin to the forest floor. For a moment, you almost believe the fight has concluded in your team’s favor—but the tides shift. In the blink of an eye, Chan is impaled with a large jagged branch and sent tumbling into some foliage whereas Yugyeom is dealt punch after strike after kick, unable to escape the barrage of Changbin’s wrath. He eventually, like the former two, collapses to the earth and makes no move to rise. 

Changbin cracks his neck before stalking toward where you and your companion stand. 

“Mark—” 

“I got it!” Mark quickly feeds another couple shells into the shotgun barrel, cocks the weapon, then aims down sight. He manages to sink a bullet into your target’s abdomen, followed by another in his bicep, but Changbin merely releases an annoyed snarl and continues charging forward. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—(Y/N), move!” You leap out of the way just in time to avoid a powerful strike. Changbin’s hand splinters the trunk of the tree, sending pieces of bark in every direction. A particular shard catches the bridge of your nose, causing blood to warmly cascade down your skin. You quickly wipe the liquid from your right eye, ignoring the nausea fluttering inside your gut, before focusing back on the situation at hand. 

You look up in time to watch Mark swing his shotgun harshly against Changbin’s skull. Taking advantage of his disorientation, you rush forward to stab your pocket knife into the wolf’s back. Changbin practically roars in fury, angling backward to land a hit to your face before you have time to react. The force of his strike throws you to the ground, a sharp pain lingering in your left cheek. 

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Mark throws himself against Changbin, delivering hit after hit to anything and anywhere. Still, Mark’s human strength does little to outbeat the dark wolf, and you watch in horror as Changbin effortlessly pins the witch against his chest with a bloody hand around his throat.  You desperately search for something, anything, in hopes of saving Mark from whatever deadly fate awaits Changbin’s bloodlust, but fate doesn’t seem to be on your side.

“Changbin—please don’t do this!” You cry, praying to some type of deity that the wolf is sane enough to understand your words. Even so, your confidence is low, seeing as talking clearly had no effect during your last encounter, but you’re fresh out of options at this point. “You know this isn’t who you are!” 

To your surprise, Changbin actually answers, “You don’t know anything about me.” 

“Maybe not, but I know you don’t actually want to hurt anyone…” You cautiously rise to your feet with a shake of your head, wary of the tight hold Changbin currently has on Mark’s jugular. “Your thoughts are all sorts of fucked up right now because of the dark magic, so why don’t you just let Mark go and we can—” 

“Don’t you fucking get it! This fucker—” He yanks at Mark with more force than necessary, “—took everything from me! He took my pack, my alpha—the only people I ever felt safe with!” 

“I understand you—” 

“No, you don’t!” Changbin wails, “You can’t even imagine how I feel! How fucking hard it is to wake up in a world you know you’ll never belong! How much it fucking hurts just to go on and pretend like everything’s normal when it’s fucking not!” 

“Tell him it’s okay to feel angry—” You whirl your head around to find a seemingly exhausted, yet wild-eyed Jackson Wang at your side. “—but none of this was Mark’s fault.” 

You’re mortified at first, having never encountered the ghost anywhere outside your bedroom—but whether it’s the desperation etched along his features, or the flush of purple that overtakes Mark’s complexion—you quickly transfer back to reality: 

“Changbin, it’s perfectly normal to feel angry and cheated, but this wasn’t Mark’s fault—deep down, I think you know that.”

“What does it fucking matter anymore? I’m all alone anyways.” The pure agony etched along his face has your heart splitting in two. 

You’ve never seen a creature so strong and so powerful look so… vulnerable. 

“You said the exact same thing to me when we first met…” Jackson murmurs softly.

“You told Jackson you were alone at one point too…” 

An obvious wave of tense silence washes through the forest, making the beat of your heart that much more prominent in your ears. 

Changbin’s whisper is dark—dangerous. “How the fuck do you know that?” 

“Because… Because he’s here, Changbin.” You say, your eyes meeting Mark’s as the words leave your tongue. “You’re not alone because Jackson is still here.” 

You don’t know what kind of reaction you expected from your revelation, but it certainly is not the heinous laughter that spills from the dark wolf’s lips. 

“You must have lost your goddamn mind… Jackson-hyung is dead!” 

“Maybe physically, but his spirit still remains.” 

“You mean—” You turn to discover a bewildered Yugyeom unsteadily leaning against a tree, “—his… ghost? You—You can see his ghost?” 

You nod.   

Changbin sneers with a low growl. “I don’t fucking believe you.” 

“There’s a cliffside back along the bay about twenty miles from the lodge,” Jackson begins, his tone a blend of nostalgic and sorrowful. “Changbin and I used to go there to watch the full moon rise before we turned into our wolf forms… I-I’ve missed that so much…” 

“You and Jackson would always watch the full moon rise on a cliff overlooking the bay before you transitioned,” You repeat. “He says he misses those moments with you…”

“Stop it!” Changbin frantically shakes his head, “You’re lying!” 

“He’s here, Changbin… He’s really here.” You move forward again, more confidently this time, and raise your hands in a sympathetic gesture. “And the last thing he wants is for you to make the same mistakes he did, so please—let Mark go and let us help you…” 

It’s as if time freezes for a moment. Changbin seems to fight a battle with himself—countless emotions rushing through his teary eyes. You watch the dark wolf glance toward an unconscious Dahyun and Chan, then to a silent Yugyeom, before finally setting his focus back to you. You can only pray your face reflects the hope swirling throughout your veins—pray that Changbin will do the right thing. 

To your delight, the blackness of his veins gradually begin to fade and the sharp claws protruding from his fingertips recede. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until Changbin finally retracts his hold from Mark’s neck. You’re quick to take the unsteady witch in your own arms before sending the now normal wolf a thankful smile. 

“Thank you, Changbin…” 

He nods shyly before wiping a couple tears from his cheeks. You watch as Yugyeom cautiously makes his way toward the younger boy, murmurs something, then tugs the latter into a tight embrace that pulls even more liquid sadness from his eyes. The sight has your heart melting into a puddle of warmth—the emotion doesn’t last though, not when Mark’s dark croak enters your ears:

“You… can see Jackson…” 

You shrug sheepishly, “I wanted to tell you, but he said not to… He didn’t want to hurt you anymore than he already had.” 

Mark remains silent. You try to search for his features for some kind of anger or disappointment, but are only awarded with his surface level blank stare. Worry flooding through your veins, you look to Jackson for any possible guidance, but the ghost merely shakes his head. 

After a couple tense seconds or so, Mark finally murmurs, “Jack… I—I’m so sorry. For everything.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Jackson says immediately, “If only I had listened to you, then maybe things would have played out different.” 

“He says it wasn’t your fault—he should have listened to you.”

“We both made some pretty shitty mistakes.” Mark hums, “I miss you, man. So fucking much.” 

You don’t wait for Jackson to reply, already knowing his answer. 

“He misses you too, Mark. Just as much.”

“How is this even possible…?” You and Mark turn to find the shocked gaze of Yugyeom, who is closely followed by the despair of that belonging to Changbin. “Supernaturals can’t even see spirits, much less mortals…” 

“We never exactly figured that out. Jackson said he felt drawn to me from the Other Side—he kind of just showed up in my bedroom the night after Mina and Momo died.” 

“Any contact with the dead usually requires some sort of spell or medium.” Mark bites his lip in confusion. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, not even in any of my mother’s grimoires—”

“Jackson!” Your body grows rigid as Jackson suddenly collapses to the ground with a pained groan. You hurry forward, kneeling next to the man, and reach for his shoulder. The realization of his phantom existence hits you like a bag of bricks when your fingers phase through his form. You settle for calling his name again instead, “Jackson—what’s wrong?” 

“What the hell is going on?” You hear Changbin stress from somewhere behind you, but your focus is completely on the ghost in question. 

Jackson lifts his head with a gasp, revealing a line of blood dripping from his nose. “I-It’s the witches!... They know about our plans—they’re trying to force me back to the Other Side—”

“(Y/N)?” 

You shake your head feverishly, “It’s, uh, it’s the witches on the Other Side—they don’t like Jackson crossing over, so they’re trying to bring him back…” 

Mark nods. “Witches, dead or alive, will do anything to maintain the balance of nature.” 

“(Y/N)—shit—I don’t have a lot of time—” Your chest tightens at the urgency behind Jackson’s words. “I know so much just went down, but—” 

“Don’t worry, Jack. I won’t let you disappear again.” You affirm before climbing to your feet to face your new subject of interest. “Mark—I need you to perform the resurrection spell.” 

“Woah, wait—” Mark shakes his head, “(Y/N), I can’ t—” 

“If we don’t resurrect him now, then Jackson is gone forever!” Your warning spreads a new tension across the atmosphere, manifesting in the form of sullen and panicked expressions. “Please, Mark—we have a chance to bring him back!” 

“I can’t do the spell because I don’t have any magic…” Your heart sinks at Mark’s revelation. “Minho absorbed all my magical energy back at the graveyard… I’m so sorry, Jackson…” 

“Hold on, you told me that there’s different types of magic…” You push, “Can’t you draw energy from something? Like the forest, or the moon, or, or—”

“Or me.” You turn, discovering the speaker of the response to be none other than a determined Changbin. “Minho-hyung’s spell may be gone, but I can still feel the magical energy lingering through my body.” 

Mark hesitates, “I-I don’t know if it will work… and if something goes wrong—” 

“Do you want Jackson-hyung back or not?...” 

A moment of silence passes after Changbin’s question. You keep an eye on a repeatedly wincing Jackson, and the other on the witch’s face, attempting to decipher his thoughts inside the glow of his gaze. For a moment, you wonder if Mark will even provide an answer, until the words finally leave his lips: 

“Fuck the balance of nature. I’ll bring you back, Jackson—I promise.” 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung stares at the sun as it gradually rises past the horizon, bathing his skin in a warm, celebratory light. His gaze wavers across the cemetery to the notorious mausoleum, where he watches Lia and Jisung carefully assist a barely conscious Youngjae past the doorway. After this crazy night, the siphoner definitely deserves a good, long rest. Then again, so does everyone else. 

He releases a heavy sigh before shifting away from the witch trio. After sparing one final glance to the sunrise, Jinyoung allows his feet to carry him through the early morning glow, past countless tombstones and other structures, and settles beside a second figure in front of a particular burial site. He silently reads the engravings along the headstone before addressing his companion without so much as a glimpse: 

“I assumed you would be halfway back to the bunker by now.” 

Jaebeom doesn’t respond, not that Jinyoung really expects him to. He peers at the hybrid through the corner of his eye, attempting to seek meaning beyond his blank features. Centuries later, Jinyoung still can’t predict the workings of Jaebeom’s inner thoughts. Especially when it comes to the situation at hand. 

“Mark called. Changbin is no longer affected by Minho’s spell.” He explains, “They’re also preparing a ritual to resurrect Jackson Wang—” 

“Tzuyu…?” 

Jinyoung’s chest tightens as the name falls from Jaebeom’s lips. 

“Their youngest, Ryujin, is looking after both her and Felix.”

“So she’s still alive…?” 

“It seems so.” 

A brief moment of silence passes between the pair. The earth grows brighter and brighter as the seconds roll by, reminding Jinyoung that time is a friend to no one. 

“Hyung, did you… truly switch off your humanity?” 

“I did, at first.” Jaebeom’s answer is quiet, and Jinyoung can detect the subtle hint of vulnerability hidden beneath his gruff tone. “But I guess I can never completely turn it off.” 

“It’s alright to feel, hyung—be it anger… or passion… or fear…” 

Jinyoung notices Jaebeom shift uncomfortably before glancing down at the glass vial in the palm of his hand. For once, he can actually distinguish the emotions present within the hybrid’s dark eyes. The knowledge only jabs at his heart. 

“Everything is taken care of, right?” 

“The night has ended, and Minho is safely sealed away in the crypt.” Jinyoung nods, “We live to see another day.”

He watches his companion tuck the precious vial into the pocket of his jeans before turning away from the headstone. Jinyoung is not sure where the urge comes from, but he abandons his perch, grabbing Jaebeom’s shoulder before he can leave the cemetery. He ignores the hybrid’s confused expression and pulls him into a tight embrace. 

“Thank you for staying, hyung…” Jinyoung’s murmur is slightly muffled against the fabric of his jacket, but he knows his companion heard them loud and clear. 

Jaebeom hesitates for a moment, clearly taken aback by the sudden act, but eventually winds his arms loosely around Jinyoung’s back with a gentle murmur of his own:

“You will always be my family, Jinyoung… Always and forever…”  

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I’ve never used magic like this before, so I can’t promise this will work.” Mark glances to where he assumes Jackson’s spirit is located inside the white circle makeshifted out of a bag of flour Dahyun managed to find in a bunker cabinet, before glancing to the companion at his side. “You sure you’re up for this? It’ll feel like I’m literally sucking the life force out of your body…” 

Changbin nods, “If it means bringing Jackson-hyung back.” 

“Okay, then.” Mark turns to the surrounding crowd next, “In order to do this, I’ll need to lower the veil to the Other Side. This will create a temporary door that Jackson can pass through to physically enter our realm. Once he crosses over, he should become mortal again.” 

“Seems easy enough.” Dahyun snickers, although the sound is dry and forced. “Anything else we need to know?” 

“Whatever happens, do not enter the circle.” His eyes drift from the she-wolf to your silent form. As if sensing the scrutiny, your gaze connects with his own, and knowing he has your attention, Mark continues in a darker tone, “Just as spirits can pass into our realm, we can cross to the Other Side… so for the love of god, don’t do anything stupid.”

Your and Mark’s staring contest ceases when your head snapes toward the circle. Seconds later, you break the tense silence with a soft murmur, “Jackson says it’s getting worse. He can feel the witches trying to drag him back.” 

“Then I guess that’s our cue.” He sighs before nodding toward the circle one last time, “I’m gonna do my best, Jack. Just hold on.” 

With one final glance to the grimoire you gave him earlier, Mark inhales a deep breath and takes Changbin’s outstretched hand into his own. He closes his eyes, focusing every part of his brain on the electrifying sensation of the magical energy coursing through the wolf’s body. Bit by bit, he feels Changbin’s power bleeding into his own veins, awakening the slumbering supernatural nature of his soul. Once he’s sure enough he’s acquired enough magic, Mark opens his eyes and begins the incantation: 

“Vita mortem, mortem vita est… Partis inferioris velum, partis inferioris ante illum vetum…” Almost instantly, the wind picks up while the air grows uncomfortably cold. He ignores the violent shivers wracking through his limbs and proceeds to repeat the words as the temperature continues to drop. With each spoken syllable, Mark’s head becomes dizzy and his flesh feels as if it’s being scorched off, but he continues. 

No amount of pain could ever dull the hope of seeing his best friend alive once more.

“Holy shit—it’s actually working!” 

Mark doesn’t realize he had shut his eyes until he opens them, nearly yelping in delight when he discovers the image of said friend standing in the center of the white circle. Jackson looks no different than the day he last saw him, and he can’t decide if he wants to laugh out of irony or burst into tears. 

“The veil is down! I’m gonna start the spell to cross you over!” Mark yells over the howling of the wind, clutching Changbin’s hand tighter as he transitions to the next phase of the spell. “Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet ohnaz eespalit… Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet—fuck!” 

A brutal force comes down against his head, almost resembling that of a punch, before spreading hot fire down his neck and to the rest of his body. Mark doubles over with a wheeze, attempting to fight against the painful sensations by grounding himself in Changbin’s touch. However, as soon as the first wave concludes, a second, even more excruciating one follows. He feels as if someone is trying to crush his brain—to kill him from the inside out. 

“Mark-hyung! What’s wrong!?” 

“It’s the witches!...” Mark is thankful that Jackson answers Yugyeom’s panicked inquiry, “They’re trying to break the spell!” 

“Like… hell they will…” Mark hisses, righting himself with a pained groan before grabbing Changbin’s other hand. “I’m not going down without a fight—hold on!...” 

He jumps back into the spell, weakening the manipulated pain through the absorption of more of the wolf’s energy. Borderline high off the power, he pushes everything he has into the ritual, determined to see it through to the end. After a minute that passes like a decade, Mark detects a shift in the atmosphere, indicating the near completion of the spell, and shouts: 

“Jackson—get out of the circle! Get out now!” 

As if in slow motion, Mark watches Jackson quickly move to escape the white border. But just as soon as his toe brushes the edge, he is wrenched away and lifted from the ground. 

Dahyun cries, “What the hell is happening!?”

“They won’t let me cross over!” Jackson squirms and writhes, attempting to escape whatever invisible grip is holding him hostage. His efforts are futile, and he continues to rise higher and higher off of the ground. 

“Hang on, Jack!” Mark releases Changbin’s hands and raises his own palms in Jackson’s direction. However, the same torturous pain from before returns once more, hitting his nerves like a sledgehammer to a brick wall, and throws him to the earth. “Shit—no! H-He has to pass through the circle!” 

“(Y/N)! Don’t!” 

Mark raises his gaze at Dahyun’s shriek, only to watch in horror as you rush past the flour boundary and grab hold of Jackson’s hand. A blinding light immediately erupts from your clasped palms, expanding through the area until all Mark can see is white. 

After a long moment, his vision eventually returns, and he finds the forest completely silent. The temperature is no longer frigid, he notices, and the strain within his brain is gone. For a moment, Mark is filled with prowess, victorious at the fact he successfully carried out an ancient resurrection ritual, however, his triumph is temporary, especially when he notices your form laid motionless in Dahyun’s arms. 

“(Y/N)—fuck!” Mark hurries to where you lay, stealing your figure from the she-wolf to cradle you in his own hold. “Shit, shit, shit—she’s not breathing! Fucking goddamnit!” 

His panic only grows tenfold when he hears the murmur cascade from Dahyun’s lips: 

“Mark… where’s Jackson?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jaebeom scales the final rung of the ladder before making his way toward the corner where the snoozing trio resides. He moves cautiously, mindful not to awaken the young werewolf caretaker, yet eventually finds himself perched on the edge of a familiar cot. His heart thunders inside his chest, and he cannot tell if it’s out of anxiety or hope. Though at this moment, Jaebeom can really care less to find out. 

“It’s about time you showed up…” He winces at the broken husk of his companion’s voice, attempting to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “I thought you were actually going to leave me to die in the hands of a neurotic teenage wolf…” 

Jaebeom doesn’t respond to her quip—he can’t find it in himself to do so. 

Tzuyu raises an eyebrow, “What’s with the face? Did you take down the witch or not?” 

“We did.” He hums, “The spell is broken.”

“Good thing—” The vampire pauses to cough, and the sound is like broken glass against his ears. “—you and your brother are safe for the eternity to come.” 

“Tzuyu… I found the cure.” 

“What are you waiting for then? My consent?” She snickers playfully, “We fuck for over a century and this is the most gentlemanly behavior I’ve ever seen from you, Beomie.”

Again, Jaebeom remains silent. 

Recognizing the obvious tension in the room, Tzuyu’s face falls. “But… I guess it’s more complicated than that, hm?” 

“There’s only enough for…” He’s unable to finish his sentence, not when his companion’s eyes are gazing at him with such sullenness and sympathy. Jaebeom has to look away for a moment, though the action does little to relieve the tightness of his chest. 

“Ah, I see.” Tzuyu hums, glancing across the way to a slumbering Felix. Her pale lips twitch, as if attempting to upturn to a smile, but it instead appears as a weak grimace. “You know, I really never meant to hurt (Y/N)… or you.” 

“Tzuyu—”

“I’ve known you for decades… but I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you look at her.” Another violent cough wracks through her body, expelling a mass of dark blood past her lips. Jaebeom is quick to wipe the splotch from her skin with the blanket, trying not to dwell on the fact that her skin is ice cold. “I’ll admit, I was jealous at first… I’ve always wanted someone to look at me like that… 

“I know you’re afraid to care—to love, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu murmurs sadly, lifting a hand to rest against the hybrid’s cheek. “Especially someone like (Y/N)… and you’re right to. She’s too good… too human. 

“One misstep and you could lose her forever.” 

“I want to be selfish…” Jaebeom whispers, “I want to be selfish so fucking bad—”

“But you can’t be, Beom. Not with her.” 

“Then let me be selfish with you.” 

Tzuyu smiles. 

“I’ve lived over three lifetimes, and he is barely a ways into his one—so you’re going to give the cure to that damn kid, Im Jaebeom.” He leans further into her touch as she caresses the apple of his cheek. “Promise me that you’ll stay away from her—to keep her safe?”

He nods.

“Good… Can you hold me for a moment? I’m cold.” 

“I’ll hold you as long as you want me to.” 

And so Jaebeom takes Tzuyu into his arms. However, it’s not until the vampire grows still does he allow a single tear to cascade from his eye, staining the bloodied bed sheets with the agony of a heart that has been broken too many times to count.

[daesungindistress]

I know BB is in a difficult time right now but reading Taeyang's recent interview just made me accept that this is really happening to them. Taeyang really wants BB to work out and I'm glad he said they're trying their best to aim for that. It sucks that OT4 have to pick up the pieces for the mistakes they don't even commit.

His comments on Big Bang and Coachella come off as cautious, but that’s to be expected right now. Given the current climate, the last thing they should be seen as is cocky. They’re expected to be contrite – to express all the remorse and self-reproach their departed member didn’t. And honestly, while I want to think they’re more confident about their future plans than this interview suggests, this guarded approach… it feels genuine. 2019 was dreadful for BB as a group. Even though OT4 weren’t implicated in the Burning Sun controversy, the severity of the scandal can’t be ignored; many of their own fans turned their backs and left because the actions of one broke trust in them all.

It’s so sad to hear that the invitation from Coachella gave them trouble. They knew that any decision they made would look bad and they’d receive criticism. “Any choice is not easy for us now.” They’re caught between a rock and a hard place. They’re well aware of how mangled their image is after the events of last year – badly enough that, as the interviewer pointed out, among Koreans a comeback is still viewed as premature.

But the invitation was an unexpected opportunity, one they couldn’t pass up. Because who says no to Coachella? And what a boost of confidence, right? In a difficult time when they weren’t even sure how many of their own fans were still by their side, one of the world’s biggest and most celebrated music festivals came calling, offering them a place on the stage. I’ve seen VIPs liken this opportunity to their 2011 MTV EMA nomination, drawing comparisons between then and now, reminding everyone that they were on the verge of disbandment after the hell that was 2011… until their unexpected win at the EMAs reinvigorated them and gave them the courage to try again.

In the same way, in late 2019 when they were floundering, when what they needed was a sense of direction, something solid to grab onto, something new, they were thrown another lifeline – and this time its name was Coachella. Taeyang said that before the invitation arrived there was “no answer.” No answer to the question of their future, I think he means. It seems Coachella was the answer they were looking for, dropped in their laps at just the right time. A much-needed sign that the world still wants them, fate and circumstance (or maybe God himself) telling them that this isn’t the end.

So yes, this is really happening. Taeyang said he wants to “work through this difficult time together in the most realistic and wisest way.” I think his wording here is important.

1) Realistically, Big Bang has lost a member. A member who realistically cannot and will not come back to the team. Five is just a memory, and a future as five a fantasy. We have to be realistic about this, and that means accepting that Big Bang is now four. This is the way forward.

2) “Wisest way," he says. I’ve been contemplating this since he said at his discharge event that BB would need a lot of wisdom going forward. Then, after the Coachella announcement and the almost nonchalant, act-like-nothing’s-wrong way it was presented, I began to wonder if one reason why the members haven’t spoken up about you-know-who and the state of the group is because they consider it unwise to do so. Think about it: when a sizeable, zealous chunk of their fanbase is still telling them their support is conditional, still insisting on “five or nothing,” is it wise to cut those fans out? To alienate them by sternly shutting them down? Five is impossible and “nothing” is not what they want, their decision to play Coachella with four members makes that pretty clear. Sadly though, they’re in a poor position right now to be at odds with their own fandom. Especially when Korea is not very accepting and they need international support.

In addition, is it kind? BB know how badly VIPs were hurt in 2019 – many still feel wounded. I’m sure the last thing the members want to do is add to that pain. In this interview Taeyang spent some time explaining that one thing he thinks he learned to do better in the military is communicate. Specifically, how to address a troubling issue with loved ones with understanding and empathy, saying the right thing while maintaining a good relationship. “If there is a loved one around you, if you really love that person, you need to know how to say the right thing even if it’s difficult. How do you communicate that?” As for BB, he said he feels responsible and it’s his calling to make sure they work through this together. I think he touched on this for a reason; it’s not just the members he’s helping, we can see that he’s putting his new communication skills to use right now in his careful handling of the fans.

I’m not surprised that Taeyang has stepped up and assumed this burden of bringing everyone to a peaceful resolution. For as long as I’ve known him, he has always taken a hands-on approach to caring for the fans, direct when he needs to be, and always kind. This time though, from the members themselves the situation calls for some serious tact. As much as I’d like them to come out with it already, like ripping off a band-aid, a statement as blunt as “Big Bang is four” would deal a terrible blow to the many fans who are still hoping for five. I’m so sad for BB, that there is this need to tiptoe around the issue at all. If more of the fandom had their heads on straight the members wouldn’t have to.

So I think they’re going to do their best to keep the peace while letting their actions and work speak for them. New stages, new schedules, new music. They’re going to take care of us as best they can given the circumstances and work together, with us and with each other, to make this new BB succeed.

[sebeth]

Giant-Size X-Men #1

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

 Extra Spoiler Warning for the Deadly Genesis miniseries…

  “Second Genesis” by Len Wein and Dave Cockrum.

Winzeldorf, Germany – Kurt Wagner flees from a mob of crazed villagers.

“Perhaps things would be simpler – safer – if I had stayed with Der Jahrmarkt but the life of a carnival freak is not for me – not for Kurt Wagner!  Let them come if they must – let them try to kill me!  At least if I die, it will be as a man!”

The villagers overwhelm Kurt.  Kurt is able to teleport so I’m not sure why he wasn’t able to escape the villagers. The crowd freezes right before they stake Kurt.  Enter Charles Xavier: “You are a mutant, Kurt.  I can help you find your true potential.”

“Can you help me be normal?”

“After tonight’s misfortune, Kurt – would you truly want to be?”

“Perhaps not.  I only want to be a whole Kurt Wagner!  If you can make me that, teacher…I will go with you.”

It’s easy for the Professor to dismiss “being normal”, it’s not so easy if you have blue skin, pointed ears, fangs, glowing yellow eyes, a tail, and three fingers per hand.  

I had “Savages” from Pocahontas and “March of the Witch-Hunters” from Wicked going through my head as I read this scene.

Quebec, Canada: Wolverine meets with Charles Xavier at a secluded military installation.  Xavier informs Wolverine that he “has a need of mutants – a desperate need!”  Wolverine jumps at the chance to “get out from under the red tape and rigmarole”.  

A military official objects to Wolverine’s resignation: “The government has invested a great deal of time and money turning you into what you are now...you haven’t heard the last of this!”

Nashville, Tennessee: The Professor recruits Sean Cassidy, the Banshee, to the X-Men.

Can’t a man watch the Grand Ol’ Opry in peace?

Kenya, East Africa: Villagers entreat “Ororo, Great Goddess of the Storm, come unto us and ease our burden!”

“I am here, my children. What do you wish of me?”

The villagers offer to sacrifice goats and chickens if she ends the drought and brings rain.  Storm agrees to do “as they plead”.

Cue a rainstorm.

Xavier congratulates Ororo on her beautiful display.

“Wh – Who are you? What business have you in Ororo’s land…an…offer?  What have you to offer a goddess?”

Ororo agrees to leave with the Professor after he offers her “the world”

Ororo’s debut isn’t very flattering to her character.  The arrogance is off the charts.  Ororo knows she isn’t a goddess – she’s an orphaned street rat – but she’s referring to villagers much older than her as children and claiming the territory as “Ororo’s land”.  Why do the villagers have to approach her to end the drought – if she’s acting as a caretaker she should have produced rain before it reached drought levels – instead it appears that she’s on an egotistical power trip.   To top it off, Ororo ditches “her land” as soon as she’s offered a better deal!  No wonder Dr. Doom’s attracted to Storm!

Osaka, Japan:  The Professor recruits Sunfire to the X-Men.

Lake Baikal, Siberia: Peter Rasputin rescues his unnamed sister from a runaway tractor.  Xavier would like Peter to come to America.  Peter asks his parents what he should do.  Peter’s father responds:  “Do as your heart tells you, my son.  It will not betray you…Dosvidanya, Peter.  Our love goes with you… We are already proud of you.”

The Extraordinary X-Men series has a scene where Illanya reminds Peter that their father made him sleep in the barn like an animal.  It never rang true to me.  Granted, the Rasputin parents don’t have much onscreen time but it didn’t seem true to their characters.  Peter’s debut scene clearly shows the love the Rasputins have for their son – he definitely wasn’t sleeping in the barn.  Peter also transforms in front of the village and no one even batted an eye – so I’m throwing the Extraordinary X-Men scene out of canon!

Giant-Sized X-Men #1 was published in the midst of the Cold War/Red Scare – it was rather gutsy to make one of the new characters a Russian hero – and one that didn’t have to do a heel/face turn or redeem himself from his Communist leanings.

Camp Verde, Arizona: “John Proudstar does not like the reservation.  He does not like to watch the old ones, sitting slumped against their doorsteps, dreaming dreams of glory long gone.  John Proudstar is an Apache – and he is ashamed of his people.”

John chases down a bull and wrestles it to the ground:  “There, horned one – do you see?  There is still a man among the Apache!”

Yeah, take that, poor bull!

Xavier approaches John to join the X-men.  John’s not impressed: “You’ve got five seconds to vamoose, white-eyes…The white man needs me?  That’s tough! I owe him nothing but the grief he’s given my people!”

Xavier implies John’s a coward causing John to change his mind and join the team.

John Proudstar isn’t a likable character.  Unfortunately, John’s never allowed to develop past the angry young man/proud warrior stereotype.

Charles muses to himself: “But will you – will any of you X-Men be equal to the task that lies before you?  Or will you carry the world down into ruin?”

Let’s talk Deadly Genesis.  The mini-series retconned the events of Second Genesis.  We discover Professor Xavier launched a rescue operation before he assembled the members of the Giant-Sized X-Men team.  The team consisted of four foster children of Moira MacTaggert:  Vulcan, Darwin, Petra, and Sway.  

The four were total newbies whose only training consisted of psychic training by Professor Xavier. The four believed they had trained for months for this rescue mission but had only received hours of training. The four manage to rescue Cyclops, put him on the jet, and send him back to Westchester.  The four attempts to rescue the others but are massacred. Scott witnesses the massacre from the jet.  Xavier erases the memory of the rescue attempt from Scott’s mind – along with the fact that Vulcan is his younger brother.

Some don’t like the Deadly Genesis revelations as they are not flattering to the Professor.  Let’s be honest, the Professor was never a great man. In the original run, he had creepy thoughts about Jean (his underage student) and faked his death to his students. No, having Changeling replace him during his “death” doesn’t make it better.  Not to mention all the times he bailed on his “life’s mission”.

If we include the events of Deadly Genesis, the Professor responds the massacre of newbies by composing a team that’s mainly newbies!  Clearly, Xavier’s intelligence is overrated.

Let’s check the members’ resumes:

Kurt: Performs in a circus, runs from villagers

Peter: Farms

John: Chases bulls, whines

Ororo: Lounges in a chair, accepts villager’s offerings, makes rain storms

Sunfire has very limited experience.

Banshee and Wolverine are well-trained and very experienced. I’m not sure if Xavier is aware of the depth of Logan’s experience – to be fair, neither is Logan at this point.

Wolverine and Banshee are the only logical selections to send after the captured X-Men.  The original team had more powerful members – Cyclops, Jean Grey, Iceman, Havok, Polaris – and were captured.  I don’t know how the Professor expects this team to do better. Did it never occur to Xavier to call the Avengers or Fantastic Four and see if they could help?

Back to Giant-Sized X-Men:

Westchester, New York:

The team assembles at the school.  Peter and Ororo love their costumes.  It’s implied Professor X designed the costumes.  I wonder if Peter ever wondered why his costume didn’t have material on the sides of his chest/abdomen.  Ororo should have many questions about her costume – for starters, why am I half-naked and the rest of the men are fully clothed – or 75% clothed in Peter’s case? And why are Peter’s boots mid-thigh length?  Peter will be a brawler – I can’t imagine that would be comfortable to run in.  And what’s with the pointed shoulder pads – to stab someone in the eye?

Did John Proudstar add the feathered headband to his costume as a sign of his heritage?  Did Professor X throw it in?  Would John resent it as a stereotype or appreciate the nod to his culture?

For the record, Dave Cockrum is one of my favorite artists and few can top his character designs.  Storm’s original costume and the Imperial Guard designs are a few of my favorite Cockrum designs.

Professor Xavier introduces the group to Cyclops.  Scott recaps the events that led to the recruitment drive:  Professor Xavier detects a new mutant presence on the island of Krakoa in the South Pacific.  Cyclops, Marvel Girl, Iceman, Angel, Polaris, and Havok travel to the island. It’s mentioned that Beast isn’t available for this mission – this is around the time he was working for the Brand Corporation.  The group lands on Krakoa but are ambushed.  Scott regains consciousness, realizes he’s unable to fire his optic blasts, and retreats to the mansion.  Scott’s powers return at the mansion but with increased intensity.

Did Scott retain his power up?  Or was this forgotten and never mentioned again.  Did the other imprisoned X-men receive power-ups?  If not, why was Scott the only one?

Sunfire decides he doesn’t wants to be part of the rescue mission: “I do not even like my fellow mutants! I certainly will not risk my life to help them!”

I’m sure the feelings mutual.  However, Sunfire changes his mind and rejoins the group mid-flight.

The X-Men arrive at the island.  Scott splits the group into pairs: Cyclops/Thunderbird, Sunfire/Nightcrawler, Storm/Colossus, and Banshee/Wolverine.  Sunfire objects to pairing up with Nightcrawler.  Wolverine complains about Banshee’s sonic powers. Enhanced hearing has many drawbacks! Peter leaps out of the airplane causing Storm to panic: “You fool, you cannot fly!”  Peter responds “Of course not, but I can land with the best of them!”

Scott gets the brunt of Proudstar’s attitude: “Yes sir, General One-Eye Sir!  I just hope you’re not leading me into another Little Big Horn! It’d be just my luck to be the first Indian massacred by….”

Can we nominate Scott for sainthood?  He had to deal with Wolverine, Thunderbird, and Sunfire and didn’t kill any of them.

Scott and Proudstar find a temple as do Storm and Colossus.  Banshee and Wolverine battle giant crabs and reach the temple. Nightcrawler and Sunfire battle golden birds and snark at each other: “I begin to think the mutant community is no more hospitable than the human…”  The duo also reach the temple.

The group find the original X-Men inside the temple.  Angel warns that it’s a trap and the new mutant is the island itself.

The group battles Krakoa, the “island that walks like a man”.  Professor X mentally joins the battle.  Storm, Polaris, Havok, and Cyclops team up to deliver the final blow. The X-Men retreat as the island breaks apart.

The issue ends with Angel asking “What are we going to do with thirteen X-Men?”

Krakoa could have used more fleshing out – is it a mutant that turned into an island or a mutated island? What exactly are its abilities? As it is, it’s relegated to a plot device – and a boring one at that.  

Poor Scott didn’t even realize his entire future could be summed up in this issue:  a lifetime of mutants questioning every command and mouthing off at every opportunity.  Poor Scott had to deal with Thunderbird, Wolverine, Sunfire, and Havok this issue.

The recruitment scenes were the best part of the issue.  You could tell Banshee and Sunfire had previously appeared in the X-Men series as their recruitment only took one to two panels.  Wolverine had made an appearance in the Hulk, also written by Len Wein, so he had a bit more panel time.  Storm, Nightcralwer, Colossus, and Thunderbird’s recruitment received more page time as they were completely new creations.  The battle with Krakoa was “meh”.  

[katiehavok]

Newtina headcannons: what kinds of disagreements pop up throughout their marriage? (I saw a post by Megan the other day about them arguing over cosleeping- N in favor and T against- and this is totally my new headcannon now) but interested to hear your thoughts. Also, you've talked about WWI, what about WWII? Especially given a) Grindelwald still happening and b) Tina being Jewish

The first obstacle they have to overcome is Leta. I don’t mean that Leta comes between them because it’s made pretty clear at the end of the movie that Newt is...if not over her, then well on the way to being over her. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all, and being away from Tina is only going to push him closer to Tina. The issue is going to be Tina’s insecurities--which only she can address and do something about. So that will be their first challenge.

Their second challenge will be where to live. Tina will most likely not want to be far away from her sister, but Newt can’t legally have his creatures in America. So, they’ll have to work out the particulars of that. My thinking is that they have a fairly long engagement (we're talking years,) carried on through regular letters and quick visits whenever one or the other has time. 

When they do finally wed, it is only after Jacob and Queenie have moved to Europe to elope, therefore taking the “big sister burden” off of Tina.

The children issue is a little tricky because I can see it going in so many possible directions. However, my strongest head-canon/hunch is that they will have amazingly few childcare-related disagreements. 

Neither Newt or Tina are very heavy sleepers: Newt because he has to be on high-alert for his creatures, Tina by dint of what she does for a living. So while I doubt either one of them would be comfortable with directly co-sleeping (i.e. the baby in the bed with them), having the bassinet, cradle or Moses Basket directly beside the bed is a very viable compromise. This allows them both to keep an eye and ear on the baby, as well as allow Tina easy access for nighttime nursing (I don’t see Newt or Tina as using formula, or at least not very often, if only because of costs concerns. While pumping technology was in its very infancy, I imagine there’s a spell Tina can use to extract a certain quantity of breastmilk and keep in stasis so Newt can take a nighttime feeding or two.)

Newt’s the “earthier” of the two parents. While Tina prefers the pram, Newt’s all about carrying that kid around on his chest. While Tina wants to stay indoors on a warm day, Newt’s all “Ricketts, Tina!” and takes the baby for a walk around the block to soak up the sun, or down into the case to meet the (gentlest) creatures. While Tina burns through every parenting advice book on the market (historical note: these books were...incredibly bad) Newt is all about listening to the child and following its lead to determine how best to parent. 

(Also, Newt absolutely used a rudimentary baby carrier of some sort. Someone, PLEASE draw this!)

Tina eventually comes over to this way of thinking, though it takes a long while, many sleepless nights, and an enduring bout of post-partum depression to get her there... (before anyone accuses me of misogyny or anything like that, please remember that Tina being high-strung is canon, and that new mother’s face a variety of crushing pressures: from society, from their family, but most of all, from themselves. Newt’s job is going to be to hold her together while she adjusts, but once she’s where she needs to be, she’s going to be the best damn mother their little Scamanderling could ever hope to have!)

When WWII breaks out, Newt and Tina decide at first to remain in America. This is for the most prosaic of reasons: there are no concentration camps in the US (at least, not for Jewish people...the Japanese had a bad time of it, though) and very little chance of either of them being called to serve. 

However, this doesn’t stop Tina (who’s done with having children--they have the one, and she has no wish to endure all that again) from itching to go off and join the fight against both Grindelwald and Hitler. 

This is the only true argument Newt and Tina have over the entire course of their marriage, one that ends with a long and enduring bout of stony silence from Tina, and many, many tears from Newt. 

Eventually, Newt recognizes that his Tina is a warrior and that he had agreed to accept her entirely when he asked for her hand in marriage. So, with heavy reluctance, he doesn’t give her permission to go so much as he realizes that she needs to go, and no longer puts up a fight about it. His only stipulation is that he and their son move to Hogwarts in the interim so they can be closer to the fight should she ever need them (read: should she be injured or placed in danger of death.)

Tina agrees, and Newt sends off a letter to Professor Dumbledore to see if his old school happens to need a Care of Magical Creatures professor. As luck would it have, they do, and the family leaves for England two weeks later.

We know that Tina survives the war, though I don’t imagine she survived it entirely intact. She came home with a heavy burden of battle fatigue and was prone to long fugues of depression, bouts often punctuated by either fitful sobbing (which was bad) or catatonic silence (which was much, much worse.) Newt does what he can to help her through it, and during one particularly bad episode, he sends their son off to Aunt Queenie’s for a few weeks so he and Tina can spend some intense one-on-one time together, during which time he encourages her to remove the worst of her memories from her mind if only to bring her some measure of relief.

She does eventually take his advice, and it brings about marked improvement...but his Tina is never quite the same after WWII, and from what he’d seen of her thoughts, Newt can’t find it in himself to hold it against her.

During this jaunt of healing, on a particularly good day when Tina was able to smile at him, Newt takes her for a walk along the beach in Dorset. There, they find a little stone cottage, long-neglected but with an air of familiarity about it that they both immediately attach to; Tina finds herself picturing rose bushes and a vegetable garden. Newt imagines a small shed magically expanded to hold his menagerie, what little of it is left.

Together, they contact the owner by tacit, unspoken agreement. They purchase the cottage and the little plot of land it comes with for a very reasonable price, hardly putting a dent in their savings. Moving there proves to be a boon: their son thrives on the English sun, the sand, and the crash of the waves. Tina finds some measure of peace in their little home, and long walks on the beach calm her when she finds herself feeling especially claustrophobic. 

Tina secures employment with the MoM after officially immigrating and rockets through the chain-of-command in a short time. Newt remains with the beast division nominally, though, in reality, he’s too independent for that, and churns out a new edition of his book, on average, every 18 months--a task made much easier once their son is off at Hogwarts. 

They retire within a year of each other, and spend the remainder of their days in their little cottage, raising their Kneazles and grandchildren (and later, great-grandchildren) and simply loving each other.

[paildramonnn]

Daiken Week | Royalty/Historical

“Jun would be better at this,” Daisuke says, stuck somewhere between stunned and morose. 

Trade agreements are no easy thing.  Too many parties to satisfy, and too many interests to protect on all fronts to satisfy anyone completely.  Had Daisuke’s education been more complete, his statesmanship polished under another couple decades as crown prince -- but, then, if they were going to bargain for ideals, why bother with the burden of trade agreements at all.

 Daisuke interprets Ken’s look of errant daydream as disapproval.  He grimaces.  “I know,” he says, shoving himself back from the books with a little groan of complaint from zaisu and floor both. The palace has survived three centuries, some far more turbulent than this, but Daisuke is something else entirely.  “Jun would be awful, but she’d still be better at this.  That’s how bad I am.”

The Motomiya family have been ruling for seven generations.  Before that, they were only of enough money and importance to intermarry with the previous ruling family, until such time as the two became so tangled as to be indistinguishable.  Then, as the story always goes, those noble cousins and in-laws decided they would do a better job of it themselves, ties were cut, and the throne was squabbled over with the brutality that only family members and hopeful royalty can manage.  And it has all lead, blood shared and shed, to this.

Daisuke snarls two fistfuls of hair in his fingers and pulls, like he can yank the right answers out of his skull.  Ken’s hand on his arm is probably not all that soothing, but it’s the best he can do, short of pushing Daisuke aside and planting the royal seal on the latest draft himself, to hell with the ramifications.

When Daisuke no longer looks like he’s going to prematurely bald himself or, marginally worse, abdicate the throne in favor of his sister, Ken pulls him to his feet.  Daisuke is better in motion; thinks better, acts better when that part of his mind is occupied.  That they’ve been holed up for the better part of two weeks now isn’t helping anyone, least of all Daisuke himself.  So Ken guides him with little veering touches until they’re out of the warm dark of the king’s study and, the manicured green of the outdoors within grasping distance, Daisuke takes the initiative and hauls Ken out into the sunlight.

Encouraging a break now and again is the least Ken can do.  For all that Daisuke keeps him close, relies on him, Ken is doing him few favors.  He has his own interests, his own royal family, at least nominally.  It’s been months now since any real word from Osamu, a note smuggled out of prison and into Ken’s hand, telling him once more that the conditions were too horrible to bear, that the indignity of it could not be borne, that Ken must do his duty and take back their birthright before the rabble decided that Osamu was too dangerous to suffer to live.

Osamu ordered him to burn the letter immediately and then, a few lines later, to show it to any ally he might muster, as proof of Osamu’s continued existence.  Was it madness, his certainty that a royalist counter-offensive be mounted, or was he only seeking to share his misery with Ken?  It seemed a fair payment to make, for his own continued freedom while Osamu diminished daily.

It would please him to know that, while he is reduced at home to nothing, he still has some effect in Daisuke's court. Ken will be dogged to the end of his days by Osamu's legacy, by the memory of a crown he never wore. It doesn't matter that he never aspired to wear it, that he was in every way a distant second son to a fiercely hoarded birthright. His home is kingless now, and suspicious minds will watch his every step to see him move toward reclaiming that crown.  And there are many suspicious minds at court.

That Daisuke trusts him enough to dismiss those whispers outright is the kindest thing he could ever do for Ken, and he has been unconscionably kind.  Ken returns it as best he can: he was never going to be king, was sequestered from court and people who might have planted sedition in his young head, but he was not kept from the education of a royal nursery.  While his brother ran his kingdom into bloody ruin, Ken emptied a library of knowledge into his brain.  History, policy, warfare, these are the only gifts that he can offer Daisuke, and so he does it open-handed, glad payment for his continued place in Daisuke’s sprawling palace, at his side, in the warmth of his affection.

The diplomats and emissaries are being housed across the miles wide palace complex, staving off the sun on the open engawa between long days of meetings in the close heat of inner rooms.  Daisuke and his immediate household retreated to his summer house some weeks before their arrival, shaded by tree cover and opened up to catch breezes off of the pond that lies near enough to hear from the quiet of Daisuke’s private rooms.  He is following the sound of it now, leading them away from the house, steps dragging over the stones.  Whatever he is thinking, he keeps to himself until the foot of the bridge, where he kicks off his sandals and clamors down carefully lain rock and boulder to shove his feet into the shallow, slightly scummy water.

“Jun really would be awful,” Daisuke says after some cursing and shoving the wet hem of his hakama up around his thighs.  He’s sun brown even above the knee, testament to his tendency to do this, to shuck formality for comfort, to indulge the itching need to get away from the rooms full of courtiers.

Why have a pond if he can’t wade into it, after all?  Why have a massive complex of landscaped lawns and paved courtyards if he can’t walk it at a whim, trailing impatient lords and generals?  Why put up with being king if there aren’t perks?

Daisuke cranes his head up to look at Ken, still standing on the path, and huffs his own softer impatience.

“It’s hot,” he says, by way of excuse and invitation.  “It’s hot and someone is going to be really mad at me before the day’s over.  Might as well enjoy myself now.”

Ken lines the toes of his shoes up against the rail before climbing down after him.  Daisuke scoots over to make room.

“I think,” Ken says, watching his already pale skin get washed out blue-green as he submerges his feet in the water, “it’s very optimistic of you to think only one person will be really mad.”

Daisuke huffs, kicking a weak shower of water up to Ken’s knees.  “Fine.  Like half of them.  But there’s no making everyone happy, is there?”

Ken shakes his head.  They have pored over it too long already, trying to assuage the worst offenses.  The compromises won’t make half of them furious -- Daisuke is stubborn and Ken is tactful -- but it will be nearer that than either of them likes.

Daisuke leans back on his hands, squinting up through scanty cloud cover to gauge the time by where the sun sits over them.  Ken looks down to judge it by their own shadows on the rock.  Too early for dinner, too late for lunch in any formal capacity.  But if Daisuke requires his monarchy to come with perks, they are only ever as straining as this: somen whenever he wants it, served with egg and pork and radish sliced thin enough to light up pink white as Daisuke passes them over from his tray to Ken’s.

His thoughts are already drifting to thoughts of noodles before they haul pull themselves up onto the path.  Their feet are too wet to stay in the smooth lacquer of their sandals, so they scoop them up on their fingers and walk back barefoot.  Daisuke keeps his face tilted to the sun.  Ken watches where they step.

“If I did abdicate,” Daisuke says, walking near enough to Ken that he can be guided with subtle nudges of shoulder and elbow.  “We’d go to Ezochi.”

Too cold for Ken, but there are far more pressing reasons why they will stay right here.  Daisuke is the only rightful heir of the most successful dynasty in almost a thousand years.  He will rule until he has his own heir to pass the Motomoya legacy onto.  But until then it isn’t such a bad thing to think about, before obligation pulls them back under.

“Hishu,” Ken argues, because if they’re going to pretend that Daisuke can escape this palace before he is an old man, they might as well aim for somewhere with plenty of sunlight, somewhere they could retreat up into the hills and watch the ocean wear away at the rocky shore until the end of their days.

Daisuke throws an arm around him, zori knocking into his shoulder where they dangle from Daisuke’s long brown fingers.  “That’s what I’m talking about,” he says.

Ken takes more of Daisuke’s weight as he leans into him, jostling for his opinion on this or that as he creates a life of pottery and shark hunting for them.  Ken smiles and corrects his geography and accepts his portion of paper thin radish slices when somen is brought to them where they lounge together on the broad engawa, dirty feet kicked up, and if they don’t turn their minds back to the waiting trade agreement until the sky is purpling along the horizon, that’s one more of Daisuke’s perks: to lay in the hot afternoon sun with his dearest friend and advisor, making up a different life for themselves, if not a better one.

[araitsume]

The Desire of Ages, pp. 342-348: Chapter (36) The Touch of Faith

This chapter is based on Matthew 9:18-26; Mark 5:21-43; Luke 8:40-56.

Returning from Gergesa to the western shore, Jesus found a multitude gathered to receive Him, and they greeted Him with joy. He remained by the seaside for a time, teaching and healing, and then repaired to the house of Levi-Matthew to meet the publicans at the feast. Here Jairus, the ruler of the synagogue, found Him.

This elder of the Jews came to Jesus in great distress, and cast himself at His feet, exclaiming, “My little daughter lieth at the point of death: I pray Thee, come and lay Thy hands on her, that she may be healed; and she shall live.”

Jesus set out at once with the ruler for his home. Though the disciples had seen so many of His works of mercy, they were surprised at His compliance with the entreaty of the haughty rabbi; yet they accompanied their Master, and the people followed, eager and expectant.

The ruler's house was not far distant, but Jesus and His companions advanced slowly, for the crowd pressed Him on every side. The anxious father was impatient of delay; but Jesus, pitying the people, stopped now and then to relieve some suffering one, or to comfort a troubled heart.

While they were still on the way, a messenger pressed through the crowd, bearing to Jairus the news that his daughter was dead, and it was useless to trouble the Master further. The word caught the ear of Jesus. “Fear not,” He said; “believe only, and she shall be made whole.”

Jairus pressed closer to the Saviour, and together they hurried to the ruler's home. Already the hired mourners and flute players were there, filling the air with their clamor. The presence of the crowd, and the tumult jarred upon the spirit of Jesus. He tried to silence them, saying, “Why make ye this ado, and weep? the damsel is not dead, but sleepeth.” They were indignant at the words of the Stranger. They had seen the child in the embrace of death, and they laughed Him to scorn. Requiring them all to leave the house, Jesus took with Him the father and mother of the maiden, and the three disciples, Peter, James, and John, and together they entered the chamber of death.

Jesus approached the bedside, and, taking the child's hand in His own, He pronounced softly, in the familiar language of her home, the words, “Damsel, I say unto thee, arise.”

Instantly a tremor passed through the unconscious form. The pulses of life beat again. The lips unclosed with a smile. The eyes opened widely as if from sleep, and the maiden gazed with wonder on the group beside her. She arose, and her parents clasped her in their arms, and wept for joy.

On the way to the ruler's house, Jesus had met, in the crowd, a poor woman who for twelve years had suffered from a disease that made her life a burden. She had spent all her means upon physicians and remedies, only to be pronounced incurable. But her hopes revived when she heard of the cures that Christ performed. She felt assured that if she could only go to Him she would be healed. In weakness and suffering she came to the seaside where He was teaching, and tried to press through the crowd, but in vain. Again she followed Him from the house of Levi-Matthew, but was still unable to reach Him. She had begun to despair, when, in making His way through the multitude, He came near where she was.

The golden opportunity had come. She was in the presence of the Great Physician! But amid the confusion she could not speak to Him, nor catch more than a passing glimpse of His figure. Fearful of losing her one chance of relief, she pressed forward, saying to herself, “If I may but touch His garment, I shall be whole.” As He was passing, she reached forward, and succeeded in barely touching the border of His garment. But in that moment she knew that she was healed. In that one touch was concentrated the faith of her life, and instantly her pain and feebleness gave place to the vigor of perfect health.

With a grateful heart she then tried to withdraw from the crowd; but suddenly Jesus stopped, and the people halted with Him. He turned, and looking about asked in a voice distinctly heard above the confusion of the multitude, “Who touched Me?” The people answered this query with a look of amazement. Jostled upon all sides, and rudely pressed hither and thither, as He was, it seemed a strange inquiry.

Peter, ever ready to speak, said, “Master, the multitude throng Thee and press Thee, and sayest Thou, Who touched Me?” Jesus answered, “Somebody hath touched Me: for I perceive that virtue is gone out of Me.” The Saviour could distinguish the touch of faith from the casual contact of the careless throng. Such trust should not be passed without comment. He would speak to the humble woman words of comfort that would be to her a wellspring of joy,—words that would be a blessing to His followers to the close of time.

Looking toward the woman, Jesus insisted on knowing who had touched Him. Finding concealment vain, she came forward tremblingly, and cast herself at His feet. With grateful tears she told the story of her suffering, and how she had found relief. Jesus gently said, “Daughter, be of good comfort: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace.” He gave no opportunity for superstition to claim healing virtue for the mere act of touching His garments. It was not through the outward contact with Him, but through the faith which took hold on His divine power, that the cure was wrought.

The wondering crowd that pressed close about Christ realized no accession of vital power. But when the suffering woman put forth her hand to touch Him, believing that she would be made whole, she felt the healing virtue. So in spiritual things. To talk of religion in a casual way, to pray without soul hunger and living faith, avails nothing. A nominal faith in Christ, which accepts Him merely as the Saviour of the world, can never bring healing to the soul. The faith that is unto salvation is not a mere intellectual assent to the truth. He who waits for entire knowledge before he will exercise faith, cannot receive blessing from God. It is not enough to believe about Christ; we must believe in Him. The only faith that will benefit us is that which embraces Him as a personal Saviour; which appropriates His merits to ourselves. Many hold faith as an opinion. Saving faith is a transaction by which those who receive Christ join themselves in covenant relation with God. Genuine faith is life. A living faith means an increase of vigor, a confiding trust, by which the soul becomes a conquering power.

After healing the woman, Jesus desired her to acknowledge the blessing she had received. The gifts which the gospel offers are not to be secured by stealth or enjoyed in secret. So the Lord calls upon us for confession of His goodness. “Ye are My witnesses, saith the Lord, that I am God.” Isaiah 43:12.

Our confession of His faithfulness is Heaven's chosen agency for revealing Christ to the world. We are to acknowledge His grace as made known through the holy men of old; but that which will be most effectual is the testimony of our own experience. We are witnesses for God as we reveal in ourselves the working of a power that is divine. Every individual has a life distinct from all others, and an experience differing essentially from theirs. God desires that our praise shall ascend to Him, marked by our own individuality. These precious acknowledgments to the praise of the glory of His grace, when supported by a Christ-like life, have an irresistible power that works for the salvation of souls.

When the ten lepers came to Jesus for healing, He bade them go and show themselves to the priest. On the way they were cleansed, but only one of them returned to give Him glory. The others went their way, forgetting Him who had made them whole. How many are still doing the same thing! The Lord works continually to benefit mankind. He is ever imparting His bounties. He raises up the sick from beds of languishing, He delivers men from peril which they do not see, He commissions heavenly angels to save them from calamity, to guard them from “the pestilence that walketh in darkness” and “the destruction that wasteth at noonday” (Psalm 91:6); but their hearts are unimpressed. He has given all the riches of heaven to redeem them, and yet they are unmindful of His great love. By their ingratitude they close their hearts against the grace of God. Like the heath in the desert they know not when good cometh, and their souls inhabit the parched places of the wilderness.

It is for our own benefit to keep every gift of God fresh in our memory. Thus faith is strengthened to claim and to receive more and more. There is greater encouragement for us in the least blessing we ourselves receive from God than in all the accounts we can read of the faith and experience of others. The soul that responds to the grace of God shall be like a watered garden. His health shall spring forth speedily; his light shall rise in obscurity, and the glory of the Lord shall be seen upon him. Let us then remember the loving-kindness of the Lord, and the multitude of His tender mercies. Like the people of Israel, let us set up our stones of witness, and inscribe upon them the precious story of what God has wrought for us. And as we review His dealings with us in our pilgrimage, let us, out of hearts melted with gratitude, declare, “What shall I render unto the Lord for all His benefits toward me? I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the Lord. I will pay my vows unto the Lord now in the presence of all His people.” Psalm 116:12-14.

[edc-creations-blog]

Shattered Vows: Love, Lies & Consequences Book 3 by Natasha D. Frazier

Rico gambled with his marriage when he cheated on Chloe. Breaking his vows and risking everything for temporary pleasure, he lost his wife’s respect and trust.

Rico returns to God, searching for a quick fix to win Chloe’s heart back, but his heart is the one that is changed. He is a self-proclaimed changed man, willing to go the extra mile to restore his marriage, but he just may be too late.

Has Chloe given up on him? She has forgiven him before, but this is different. “I’m sorry” isn’t enough when vows have been shattered. With the law and the Word of the Lord on her side, she finally gathers enough courage to walk away.

But then tragedy strikes. Is it enough to make Chloe stay, or will she start a new chapter in her life?

  Listen to a reading from Shattered Vows: Love, Lies & Consequences: https://www.audioacrobat.com/note/CPR8L6bk

REVIEWS – SHATTERED VOWS (LOVE, LIES & CONSEQUENCES BOOK 3)

“With this being book 3 in the series, the book definitely kept your attention. There was a great balance of happy, sad & keeping God involved in your decisions. I like the way author takes us through the view of both husband & wife.”

“Loved the interwoven storylines and how everyone seemed to learn from their mistakes. The way forgiveness is expressed is inspiring.”

“It is tough to read books that end the way Shattered Vows ended. When we pray for God’s help, we must trust that His ways are greater than our ways. I am truly convinced that it is nothing but the love of God that gets us through the tough times. The love of God is what caused each character to have a heart of forgiveness. Thank you Natasha for sharing the love of God through your writing.”

  EXCERPT: SHATTERED VOWS (LOVE, LIES & CONSEQUENCES BOOK 3)

“I want my wife back,” Rico said after careful contemplation of his question.

“Umm hmm. Well seeking direction from God is definitely the best start, but much is going to be required of you; so let’s start from the beginning. Tell me what happened. What is it that brought you to this place? Your wife leaving you and all. And please tell the entire truth. These sessions will only work if you’re honest,” Pastor Lewis reminded Rico.

Rico leaned back in his seat, blew out a chestful of pent-up air, rubbed his hands along his pants and thought for a moment. Sessions? Plural? He had been hopeful that he would get his answer today, but he was more than desperate, so he was willing to do everything it would take to start anew with his wife.

“Long story short, I met this woman who was absolutely breathtaking. I took her out a few times, talked to her on the phone repeatedly and I began to fall for her. She seemed so perfect. When I realized what I was getting myself into, I ended it. But I guess it was too late because she ended up pregnant with my baby,” Rico shared shamefully.

Pastor Lewis studied him for a moment. He noticed Rico’s eyes were lit up when speaking of this woman and that concerned him. He jotted down some notes on a pad.

“What compelled you to start seeing her even though you were married?”

“Man, I mean, sir, I don’t even know. It was never supposed to go so far. It was casual at first, but she became serious.”

“Wait one moment. I am a pastor but I’m also a man. So you and I both know that if she was becoming serious, you were giving her a reason to be. Did you tell her you loved her? That you would leave your wife and marry her? What was it?”

Rico shook his head at the thought of everything he’d told Raegan. It felt awkward to share those things with the pastor. Actually telling someone everything he did made him feel dirty, because he knew he was wrong. He didn’t want the pastor to think of him as some dirty womanizer, because that wasn’t who he was. He was just a guy who got caught up in the moment, in his opinion.

“She didn’t know I was married; I never told her,” Rico admitted, averting his eyes from the pastor’s gaze. He didn’t want to see the look on his face. He was certain it would be disapproving. “Like I said, it was never supposed to go that far. I told her I loved her and that I could see us having a future together,” Rico told a half-truth. He felt terrible about lying to the pastor, but he couldn’t bring himself to say that he told Raegan that she would one day be his wife when he was already married.

Pastor Lewis had had these types of sessions many times and he knew that Rico wasn’t being completely honest with him.

“So how did she find out you were married? How did your wife find out about her?” Pastor Lewis continued to question. Not much of that was important, but he wanted to see just how honest Rico would be and how serious he was about getting his wife back.

“I left my phone at home one day when she called. My wife answered it. I had her name saved under an alias,” Rico recounted. The more he talked about it, the worse it sounded. If he were in Chloe’s shoes, he didn’t know if he would take him back.

“The baby?”

“She lost the baby but before she did, I signed over my parental rights, hoping that would help smooth things over with Chloe. Hoping we could get past it,” Rico explained, remembering the pain both from signing over his rights and his wife telling him that the baby didn’t make it.

Pastor Lewis placed his pen on the notepad, locked his fingers together and rested his forehead against them for a moment. His head was starting to hurt from the drama that Rico had in his life. He took a moment to silently pray for guidance. When he finished, he rested his clasped hands on his desk.

“Tell me this. What was it you felt was missing in your marriage that you had to seek companionship elsewhere?”

Rico could have talked about the fact that Chloe worked a lot and attempted to shift the blame to her being away, but that wasn’t it. The fact that Chloe wasn’t there gave him the opportunity. He could have admired Raegan from afar and kept moving. He didn’t have to seek her out on Facebook. He didn’t have to ask her out. He wasn’t sure why he did it, and he told the pastor so. What he needed now was for the pastor to tell him how to fix it and to stop asking all of these questions.

“I don’t mean no harm, Pastor, but I need you to tell me how to get my wife back. Don’t you have some type of Scripture in your arsenal for situations like this?” Rico got straight to the point. He felt like he was getting nowhere fast with the pastor’s line of questioning.

“Son, what you need is Jesus.”

( Continued… )

© 2017 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author, Natasha Frazier. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the author’s written permission. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only.

  Purchase Shattered Vows: Love, Lies & Consequences by Natasha Frazier Book 3 in Love, Lies & Consequences Series. Genre: Christian Fiction Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MZ5IQMR

  About the Author Natasha D. Frazier accepted the call to write in 2011. Since then, Natasha has authored three devotional books. Her first book is The Life Your Spirit Craves, a 30-Day devotional and journal that encourages readers to seek, accept and pursue their God-given assignment.  Her second book, Not Without You: 365 Days in the Lord’s Presence, encourages readers to make devotion a part of their everyday life by seeking God daily through prayer and reading His Holy Word. Not Without You has been nominated for the Henri Award. The Henri Award recognizes excellence in Christian literature.

The Life Your Spirit Craves for Mommies is a 52 week devotional for mothers that encourages them to see God at work in their lives through their role as a mother. Both devotionals in The Life Your Spirit Craves series won the Readers’ Choice Award presented at the Christian Literary Awards.

Natasha is also the author of the Love, Lies & Consequences, Christian-fiction series that focuses on real and relevant issues in today’s society, such as pre-marital sex, adultery, blended families and more! Currently, the series contains three published titles: Love, Lies & Consequences, Through Thick & Thin, and Shattered Vows. She is also the author of How Long Are You Going to Wait andKairos: The Perfect Time for Love.

Natasha D. Frazier resides in Houston, TX metro area with her husband, Eddie Frazier, Jr. and their three children, Eden, Ethan, and Emilyn. Her greatest joy and commitment is to her family who she hopes to inspire above all else. One of her many mottos in life is: Faith removes limitations.

Natasha and her family are members of Higher Dimension Church in Houston, TX. Natasha is also a member of the Houston Area Alumni Chapter of Jackson State University and Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc.

    Kairos: The Perfect Time for Love by Natasha D. Frazier

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens….Ecclesiastes 3:1

Kensi Jacobson believed in that truth with all of her heart, but when she’s up for a promotion for her dream job as assistant editor-in-chief of The Big Apple Chronicle, she hits a roadblock. She put in the work and trusted God for what she believed was her season of elevation, but her boss’ idea of a promotion was to send her to Pepperton, TX for another assignment.

This new assignment pairs her up with a handsome widower, Darren Shaw, who helps her learn that delay and disappointment can sometimes become a catalyst for something greater. Seemingly burdened with the fact that she is the only one in her circle who isn’t married with children and a career that isn’t headed in the direction she planned, she begins to wonder when her time and season are coming. Will Kensi learn that Kairos – God’s perfect timing, is much more powerful than Chronos – her chronological timetable, and trust that things will fall into place at the right time? What begins as a crush to her ego and life plan may become the perfect time for love and everything else she’s wanted.

Listen to a spectacular author’s interview and reading from Kairos: The Perfect Time for Love by Natasha D. Frazier http://www.audioacrobat.com/note/CC3dfW3X

REVIEWS – KAIROS: THE PERFECT TIME FOR LOVE

“I was a happy camper reading “Kairos: The Perfect Time for Love” by Natasha D Frazier. Kensi Jacobson had her life all planned. But, God knows what we need even before we do. To that end, He arranges situations to let us know, He only gives good gifts. This love story was a great reminder of that.

The characters in this story faced real-life issues. I must say, the Jacobson family was off-the-chain, especially Mama Marie Jacobson. This lady had me laughing aloud as I read. Thank God, Darren was a praying man and understood what he was up against. I enjoyed how the author chronicled Kensi and Darren’s love story.

This story was well written and the author’s writing style was fluid and impactful. Thanks for a good read, author Natasha D. Frazier. Grab your copy. ”

“I loved the story of Kensi and Darren! A true testament of God’s timing and God’s purpose. God always open doors for us as part of His will for our lives. Sometimes our faith is definitely tested. We tend to get so comfortable and think that we get tired of waiting but that may not be the plan for us. Kensi found that out in her quest on the love train but in the end Darren and her found each other at the perfect time! The music selections throughout helped fit the scenes perfectly. Definitely gets a five star rating from me!”

“I was captivated by the storyline in this book from the beginning to the end. I did not want the story to end! Even though the book was fiction, everything seemed so real as I was reading. Natasha was so descriptive with some of the key details that I felt that I was actually there with the characters. I have read one other book by Natasha and can’t wait to read the next one!”

EXCERPT – KAIROS: THE PERFECT TIME FOR LOVE

“So we have to agree that there are certain things that only women can do. I don’t think that women should be silent or anything like that. We all have a role to play, we just need to know what it is. So what are your thoughts when it comes to submission in marriage?”

Is everyone going to interview me over dinner? Kensi wondered, because that surely felt like an interview question.

Just then the waitress appeared and took their orders. When she left, Kensi answered his question.

“All right, so you want to know what I think about submission. Great question. I think that as long as a husband is following God, and by that I mean living according to God’s Word and doing what he’s supposed to do, as his wife, I could easily respect and submit to him. Now if he isn’t handling things the way he should, I’m not sure how I would respond in such a situation. But I do agree with the principle. In every organization, someone has to be the leader and I don’t think it should be any different in the household. What are your thoughts?”

“Hmm,” Darren moaned and nodded. He liked what he heard.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking about what you said. I think that men were created to lead. God created Adam first and gave him charge over every living thing before He created Eve. I think that husbands and wives should run their households together, but the ultimate responsibility rests with the husband to do what God calls men to do: Obey Him and love their wives as Christ loves the church.”

The waitress returned with their food. At the interruption, Darren reached across the table for Kensi’s hand and prayed over their food.

Kensi thought he looked even more handsome, seeing as though he appeared to be a man after God’s heart. She was happy that their evening didn’t turn out to be about work. She was enjoying their conversation and becoming even more intrigued by him.

As they continued their talk about their beliefs and careers, Darren was in total awe of the woman sitting before him. To meet a godly woman who was beautiful, confident and driven was a treat for him. He’d been so caught up with work and what he’d lost in Jessica that he hadn’t even allowed himself to look at anyone in a romantic way before now. Kensi could be the perfect woman for him, except that she was only there temporarily and moving to Pepperton seemed to be the farthest thing from her mind.

( Continued… )

© 2018 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author, Natasha Frazier. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the author’s written permission. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only.

  Kairos: The Perfect Time for Love by Natasha D. Frazier

Download from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079H691LM 

About the Author Natasha D. Frazier penned the award-winning Love, Lies & Consequences series, along with several devotions and other fiction titles. She hopes that her writings will inspire readers to become all they were created to be and encourage them in their daily walk with God. Whether devotional or fictional, she desires to leave a legacy to inspire readers to take their lives to the next level.

Born and raised in Greenville, MS, Natasha graduated magna cum laude from Jackson State University with a Bachelors of Business Administration in Accounting and from Texas A&M University with a Masters of Science in Accounting. Natasha has since earned her CPA license and worked in both public accounting and the federal government. Natasha is a proud member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc. and the Houston Area Alumni Chapter of Jackson State University. Natasha currently serves as a pre-k small group leader at Parkway Fellowship Church.

Natasha resides in Richmond, TX with her husband, Eddie and their three children.

Natasha D. Frazier, Author of: The Life Your Spirit Craves Not Without You Love, Lies & Consequences Through Thick & Thin: Love, Lies & Consequences Book 2 The Life Your Spirit Craves for Mommies Shattered Vows: Love, Lies & Consequences Book 3 How Long Are You Going to Wait? Kairos: The Perfect Time for Love

Frazier Website: https://www.natashafrazier.com

Natasha Frazier books are available on Kindle too: http://amzn.to/2nwNhG4

      Books by Natasha D. Frazier Shattered Vows: Love, Lies & Consequences Book 3 by Natasha D. Frazier Rico gambled with his marriage when he cheated on Chloe.

[biggerthemovie]

In the winter of 2011, Al Pacino stood at a podium inside the Beverly Hilton to accept a Golden Globe Award. All eyes were on Pacino moments after he was announced Outstanding Lead Actor for his portrayal of Dr. Jack Kevorkian, the contentious right-to- die pathologist who inspired “You Don’t Know Jack,” a polarizing film directed by Academy Award-winner Barry Levinson, with a glitzy A-List cast starring the likes of Pacino, Susan Sarandon and John Goodman. You’re probably wondering what any of this has to do with bodybuilding … after all, this is Muscular Development, right? Well, stay with me a little longer and I’ll connect the dots. The film was produced by Steve Lee Jones, one of Hollywood’s most ambitious producers, regarded in those circles for his cunning ability to identify larger-than-life true stories for which movies should be made. Upon his arrival in Hollywood, Jones secured the rights to Kevorkian’s life story, a complex, multi-layered memoir, one that would provide a blueprint for a film worthy of Hollywood royalty, like Pacino. Fast-forward to a call I received one evening this past March. The voice on the other end was Jones, the aforementioned producer, currently knee-deep in his project “DeLorean,” the story of the legendary auto industry maverick. The call came just a few days after Joe Weider was laid to rest. If you’re a reader of this magazine, you’re well aware of Joe’s transformational influence on physical culture, the sheer gravity of the industry he built, and the millions he inspired. But for many, outside of the bodybuilding world, the story of Joe and Ben Weider is a bit less familiar— a reality that often appeals to a brand of Hollywood execs who hunger for undiscovered gems, the kind that win awards. I had met Jones 15 years earlier while working in the television business. Since those days, I’ve kept tabs on his rise in Hollywood while he kept a watchful eye on my work in the bodybuilding biz. We’ve often joked, over the years, that our two worlds, despite their obvious differences, are both occupied by individuals who share an insatiable appetite for the spotlight, while cleverly putting a positive spin on narcissism, an art form of sorts. Jones was calling because he wanted me to tell him everything I know about Joe Weider. He asked a lot of questions, but these weren’t your typical “How did Joe discover Arnold?” questions. He wanted to explore the earliest stages of Joe’s life, his childhood, his struggles with anti-Semitism, and the risks that were taken by a pair of young men who sought to change the way the world viewed muscle. It was obvious that Jones had done his homework and, true to his reputation, he had already begun peeling away the layers of a story that would begin in poverty, in the depths of the Great Depression. It was only a few minutes into the conversation when I reminded myself that I was speaking with someone who had the vision, and the power, to bring this story to life, to tell it in a way that no bodybuilding story had ever been told. There have been smaller-scale efforts, most recently an ambitious documentary called “Generation Iron,” but never before has there been a major theatrical feature film that places bodybuilding front and center for the world to see. The story of Joe and Ben Weider had landed on Hollywood’s radar, and after speaking with the man who helped garner a Golden Globe for Pacino, I was prepared to do everything in my power to make sure this project advanced beyond our initial conversation. Eric Weider’s Keys to the Kingdom  In the movie business, a film based on a real-life individual is termed a biopic, and when telling the story of someone no longer living, the crucial first step is to secure the “life rights” from the estate of the deceased. This critical step provides unfettered access to the most personal and private details, the kind of minutiae that can provide an audience with a view of the subject unlike any they’ve seen before. In this case, the subjects are Joe and Ben Weider, and the man who holds the keys to the kingdom is Eric Weider— Ben’s son, Joe’s nephew and the head of the billion-dollar family empire. My first task was to coordinate a meeting between Eric and our producer, an assignment that would require a delicate pitch to a man who cares deeply about the legacy of his late father and uncle. I called Eric and informed him that Hollywood had come calling. I spoke glowingly of the opportunity and the authenticity of the producer. Once Eric realized that I wouldn’t let him off the phone until he gave me the answer I was looking for, he cautiously agreed to a meeting. “When I first heard from Steve Lee Jones I was a little skeptical,” explains Eric Weider. “I quickly learned, though, that Steve was the real deal, not just a dreamer. He is someone with a big vision and the know-how along with the track record to get this done. The more time I spend with him, the more impressed I am.” After a series of meetings, Jones’ Hollywood-based company, Bee Holder Productions, announced it had secured exclusive rights to the Joe and Ben Weider life story, and book rights to Brothers of Iron from the parent company, Weider Health and Fitness. Enter Brad Furman With the ink dry on a landmark “exclusive rights” deal, it was time to select a writer/director. Jones is committed to telling this story from its earliest, most meaningful stages. He shares, “The working title is ‘BIGGER’ and the story will focus on the young brothers confronting rampant anti-Semitic sentiment as they try to launch a business and a movement. Joe was the visionary who wanted to encourage others to build their bodies and self-esteem, while Ben brought the business savvy to make the dream a reality.” When word of the project began circulating through Hollywood’s inner circles, there was no shortage of writers and directors interested in developing the script, but Jones understood that this story required an “A-List” writer/director in order to attract an “A-List” cast. Enter Brad Furman, director of “The Lincoln Lawyer” (2011) a film that starred Matthew McConaughey and grossed nearly $100 million at the box office. More recently he directed “Runner Runner” (2013) with Justin Timberlake and Ben Affleck. “I knew Brad was a college athlete who experienced pretty extreme prejudice growing up in Philly,” explains Jones. “I was also told that he was looking for his next project to have deep meaning. So I called a meeting and we had instant synergy. I knew he was our guy. His passion for the story was quite obvious.” When asked what drew him to the project, Furman reasoned, “These men’s stories, what they created, it’s exciting. This is a great opportunity to shed light on remarkable men who pulled themselves up from nothing to greatness.” How REAL is all of this? In Hollywood, new projects are born every day. During their embryonic stages of development, many have been known to die an early death. So if you’re concerned about the viability of this film, I’ll provide some comfort. Our Golden Globe and Emmy-nominated producer has projected a $30 million production budget, and our writer, known mostly as an A-List director, is in the final stages of a script as jaw-dropping as the physiques Joe made famous. Some of the biggest names in Hollywood are on the short list to play the coveted lead roles, and Jones hopes to begin shooting later this year. Additionally, Eric Weider has signed on as executive producer, joining a Bee Holder Production team that also includes Drew Gallagher (co-producer), Dan Fugardi (associate producer) and Camila Castro (creative executive). I will serve the project as co-executive producer, along with a host of consultants including Mike Steere (co-author of Brothers of Iron), Jimmy Caruso, Leroy Colbert and Andre Begin, a former Mr. Canada who was taken in and off the streets by the Weider family. When I asked Furman about the enormous burden of telling the story of a pair of men who inspired millions, he surmised, “Eric Weider handed me the bronze statue of his Uncle Joe with his massive arms folded across his chest, and I stared at it, at the strength and determination in Joe’s body, and in his eyes. And in them I saw the ‘come-from-nowhere-and-go-to-somewhere’ lonely kid who built himself a life— the world of bodybuilding— because if he didn’t do that, as he said, he’d have had no world to live in. That story appeals to me and my own journey, and to anyone who has a dream.” Muscular Development is proud that our senior features editor, Dan Solomon, is co-executive producer of this historic film project. MD and FitnessRx for Men will continue to provide behind-the-scenes coverage of bodybuilding’s arrival in Hollywood, from production all the way to the red carpet!

[furynewsnetwork]

LISTEN TO TLR’S LATEST PODCAST:

By Kevin Daley

Judge Neil Gorsuch will appear before the Senate Committee on the Judiciary beginning Monday, as the panel mulls whether to recommend his nomination to the full Senate.

Thus far, Gorsuch has glided through the nomination process. His glittering resume, which now bears the “well-qualified” imprimatur of the American Bar Association, has foreclosed several lines of attack for Senate Democrats, who have spent weeks fumbling for a strategy to block a confirmation that looks increasingly certain.

It’s difficult to overstate the aimlessness that has characterized the Senate Democratic caucus with respect to the Gorsuch nomination. As recently as last Wednesday, California Sen. Dianne Feinstein, the ranking Democrat on the Judiciary committee, told The Huffington Post she wasn’t sure what topics she planned to press Gorsuch on during the hearings. The chamber’s number two Democrat, Sen. Dick Durbin, brought the caucus’ unfocused improvisation into sharp relief when he told reporters the caucus had elected to wait until the hearings to formulate a unified position with respect to the nomination.

Though it seems unlikely this week will present the bruising ideological confrontations of confirmations past — given the general Democratic malaise — expect the following issues to feature prominently in the hearings.

Corporations and Campaign Finance 

Democratic messaging on the Gorsuch nomination began to emerge just last week. Senate leadership launched something of a salvo during events on Tuesday and Wednesday in the Capitol, characterizing Gorsuch as a callous jurist who consistently aligns himself with powerful constituencies.

“Obviously, the social issues are always looming out there with any justice,” Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer said. “But where [Gorsuch is] particularly vulnerable is in this anti-worker, pro-corporate record.

Democrats have flagged three cases in particular as dispositive of a harsh judge unsympathetic to needy plaintiffs. In one case, Gorsuch voted against a truck driver for abandoning his vehicle during inclement weather. He has also written or joined opinions ruling against a family seeking federal compensation for costs accrued educating their disabled child, and a professor who lost her job after taking medical leave to recover from cancer.

Two of these three rulings were unanimous decisions joined by Democratic appointees. The third, which concerns the truck driver, implicated the supposed vagueness of the word “operate” in a statute relevant to the case. The facts particular to this litigation inspire sympathy for the truck driver, but as Harvard Law School professor Noah Feldman explains, there’s little about Gorsuch’s conclusion which isn’t legally defensible.

In this vein, the mobilization of outside groups in support of Gorsuch’s confirmation is also likely to solicit questions about corporate political activity and campaign finance laws generally. The largest of these efforts is coordinated by the Judicial Crisis Network, a conservative advocacy group that put $10 million behind a national campaign to get Gorsuch confirmed. A recent New York Times profile shows that the group’s financiers are largely unknown.

“We can use these hearings to put the spotlight on big special interests,” said Rhode Island Democratic Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse. “The test for Gorsuch is: is he willing to disassociate himself from them? In my view, the burden is on him to persuade us of that fact, particularly given that big special interests are spending tens of millions in dark money to try to help him get on the court.”

Life and Religious Liberty

Gorsuch’s record on the bench is scant on abortion-rights cases. His Oxford doctoral dissertation, however, which later became his book “The Future of Assisted Suicide and Euthanasia” offers some hints as to his view of life issues. Expect Democrats to quote liberally from the text, much of which was written under the supervision of Oxford professor John Finnis, the cerebral champion of natural law theorists.

In the book, Gorsuch explicitly states that the taking of a human life by a private person is always wrong. Though this is surely enough for Democrats to make trouble, as Reason’s Damon Root points out, he also evinces skepticism of the idea the courts should rely on the 14th Amendment’s due process clause to defend rights not specifically announced in the Constitution. This position, if it is in fact his, could implicate a broad range of rights the courts have identified.

Many conservative and libertarian jurists and scholars approach this question, called unenumerated rights, from complex perspectives which do not easily lend themselves to polar categorizations. In fact, the extent to which this issue divides conservatives and libertarians among themselves is not widely understood in media. Still, it’s an appealing line of attack for Democrats, as it suggests a skepticism of rights to medical privacy or same-sex marriage.

And its an approach to the nomination that seems most accurately calibrated to the current political environment, where a furious identity-leftism generates most of the energy in the Democratic party. If energizing these voters is a priority for Democrats scrutiny of Gorsuch’s robust defenses of religious liberty seems sensible.

As Slate’s Dahlia Lithwick writes, Gorsuch takes a capacious view of religious liberty, even as compared to his would-be predecessor, the late Justice Antonin Scalia.

Take the following example: Gorsuch wrote a concurring opinion in the 10th Circuit’s review of Hobby Lobby Stores v. Sebelius, which asked the court to decide if the 1993 Religious Freedom Restoration Act allows a closely held for-profit company to deny its employees contraceptive coverage based on religious objections. The case was later heard by the Supreme Court.

His concurring opinion tracked the problem of complicity, and argued the lower court had given insufficient (and statutorily required) credence to the fact the company’s owners felt any sort of participation in a contraception regime violated their religious beliefs. Gorsuch argued the courts should accommodate a religious adherent’s sincere assertion that a certain act implicates them in immorality, and that the empirical or scientific accuracy of their claims was not the proper subject of judicial inquiry.

“It is simply not a defense of religious liberty to accept, without question, a religious adherent’s beliefs as if they are judicially determined facts, especially if those beliefs contradict empirical fact and even more so when they create tangible suffering for others,” Lithwick writes. This is the sort of argument that seems far more potent given current political realities. But it’s also a dangerous argument, as it largely validates the fears of conservative religious adherents, who rallied around Trump in hopes of saving the courts from thorough-going secularist judges disinterested in their conscientious objections. Still, expect it to get some attention from committee Democrats.

Gitmo

Gorsuch briefly served in the U.S. Department of Justice during the George W. Bush administration, where he was involved in shaping legal guidance supplementing the government’s national security policies. In this capacity, he advised the administration on the detention of enemy combatants at the U.S. naval facility in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.

Several documents produced by the Justice Department in connection with the nomination are sure to elicit questions, particularly from Feinstein, who is intensely interested in detention issues and was a leading critic of Bush-era detention policies at Gitmo.

In one letter he wrote to the base’s commander, Gen. Jay Hood, after visiting Guantanamo Bay, Gorsuch said that he was “extraordinarily impressed” with the standards and professionalism of the installation and its servicemen.

In another internal email, he suggested the judges of the U.S. Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit would be more sympathetic to the Justice Department in detention cases if the administration invited them to visit Gitmo.

“If the DC judges could see what we saw, I believe they would be more sympathetic to our litigating positions,” he wrote.

“A visit, or even just the offer of a visit, might help dispel myths and build confidence in our representations to the Court about conditions and detainee treatment,” he added.

Schedule

The confirmation hearing will begin on Monday on Capitol Hill at 11:00 am. In addition to Gorsuch’s testimony, five panels of expert witnesses will offer remarks over the course of the next week.

The committee will vote on Gorsuch’s nomination at the conclusion of these hearings, following a vote of the full Senate.

Follow Kevin on Twitter

Send tips to kevin@dailycallernewsfoundation.org.

Click here for reuse options!

Copyright 2017 Daily Caller News Foundation

Content created by The Daily Caller News Foundation is available without charge to any eligible news publisher that can provide a large audience. For licensing opportunities of our original content, please contact licensing@dailycallernewsfoundation.org.

WATCH TLR’S LATEST VIDEO:

The post The Gorsuch Hearings Are Starting. Here’s What To Expect. appeared first on The Libertarian Republic.

via Headline News – The Libertarian Republic