#BUT the happy years is MORE painful BECAUSE of the preceding section

[thetorturedarchives]

you know how swifties talk about the lover album being the saddest in taylor swift's discography (despite the pastels and upbeat music). that's what it's like being a little life fan going into 'the happy years'

[talizorahs]

can you please make another bad batch gen fic rec list?

anon my darling!! of course i can! i've been tossing up the idea anyway, as my old fic rec list (found here) turns 10 months old in a few days. so much has changed since then, and the fandom has had some amazing fics shared with it in that time. so without further ado...

Bad Batch Fic Rec List 2.0

find below 17 gen fic recs which cover pre-canon, republic era and imperial era, also with a section for alternate au fics.

happy reading! <3

Backstory / Pre-Canon

stick together by delightwrites.

Gen | 2.9k words | Complete

Summary: "Hunter hated individual training because it separated him from his squad. He didn't even really know where his brothers were taken on those days, and even if he had known, he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't look after them."

a storm, a promise and four cadets all squeezed together in one bunk after a particularly hard day of training

Notable tags: Bad Batch as Kids, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, jeez give these boys a break

Comments: An oldie, but a goodie. I think this is one of the first fics I read when I rejoined fandom in June 2021 and it has had me in its claws ever since. Delightwrites paints us a lovely, but sad, scene of the Bad Batch in their formative years. They paint us such a good picture that the picture continues on into the painful events of the show, in fact. I will never forgive them for that. Mostly because of Transformersluna's matching comic. Ouch.

-

Now We Are Free by wwheeljack.

Gen | 12k words | Complete

Summary: A few weeks before the start of the Clone Wars, Clone Force 99 are given leave and travel to Naboo for shore leave. Where Hunter, Crosshair and Wrecker see a mission, Tech steps foot off Kamino for the first time in his life and changes his brothers' perspectives on the galaxy they live in.

Notable tags: N/A

Comments: I would put Wwheeljack's entire Ultra Soft Batch series here if I could, but this fic in particular has always stuck out to me in the series. It has a different tone to the rest of the entries in the journey of her story, and it writes us into a precedent that the remainder of the series is trying to catch up to.

Now We Are Free is a story about brotherhood in the face of cruelty, no matter the source. It is gentle, or it at least potrays men that are trying to be gentle in a universe that wants them to be anything but. It portrays a different start to the Clone Wars than the rest of the clones get, but the Bad Batch have always been different, so it's very fitting.

-

Drizzle by tincturedwords.

Gen | 15k words | Complete

Summary: One of the handlers is stupidly reckless with Crosshair’s training one day and the rest fo the batch are there to help in the aftermath.

Notable tags: Abuse of Authority, Caretaking, Hypothermia, Sharing a Bed

Comments: Drizzle is one of those fics you want to read when it's raining, to picture both the vivid scene that Tincturedwords paints us, but also the gentle comfort the second half of the fic boasts. The fic manages to say so many things without saying much at all. Tincturedwords' writing style really plays into this well, making the fic easy to read, and even easier to picture exactly what is going on. There are both big moments in the fic that I adored envisioning, such as the training sequence with sets of this series of events, but also the smaller and more initimate moments between the Bad Batch as well. There's plenty of those in the fic, even hidden between the lines, the sort that make you go "oh". Wait for a rainy day for this one, and make yourself a nice cup of tea!

-

Republic Era

Art of War by Moxibustion (RyuuzaKochou).

Gen | 73k words | Complete

Summary: Echo had never had any particular talents. He'd never sought to be special, never tried to break the mould. He'd never aspired to be anything more than a clockwork soldier, watching his far more brilliant brothers rise up above him. He'd never expected to wake up one day and find out that he was, in fact, the last of them.

Funny old galaxy, really.

Now he was in the Bad Batch and one thing he was rapidly beginning to understand is this: in a galaxy filled with combat engineers, the Bad Batch are artists. Echo had never really known much about art. At least… that's what he'd always thought. New body, new squad - maybe it was time to look at things in a whole new way.

A story about art, war, coping, hanging on, letting go, restoration, reforging, plotting in a brig, military intelligence isn't, Wrecker's diplomacy doesn't, cooking, the thin line between genius and madness, starting over, struggling with loss, team bonding, art therapy, guerilla knitting therapy, big boom therapy, shaking down shinies for fun and profit, guilt, rage, forgiveness, waging war by fitting in…

… and making your peace with standing out.

Notable tags: Grief/Mourning, Finding Your Place, Echo-Centric, Echo Is Equal Parts BAMF - Sassmaster - And Cinnamon Roll

Comments: I don't where to begin with this fic. The whole piece is just... wow. It's a work of art. Moxibustion is a master of the written word and every single chapter of this is example of their command of the craft. They weave us a beautiful story about Echo settling into life with the Bad Batch, but at the same time, reconciling the fact that his old life is gone. Fives is gone. The 501st as he knew it is gone. It has that bittersweet tone to it in that sense, but it is also respectful of Echo's capabilities as a trained soldier - and the Batch's abilities in turn.

Art of War treats us to a chapter for each member of the Bad Batch and Echo acclimatising to them, with an overarching storyline about grief, fitting in, and taking care of yourself. It fits on a beautiful, poignant note about Order 66 (unbeknownst to the cast of characters) and the authorities which surround the Grand Army of the Republic. I will always go back to this fic when I have a few hours to kill. I find something new hidden amongst the dialogue every single time, as Moxibustion writes each character as if they have been lifted from the show itself, then some. I will highlight Tech's two chapters in particular. I adore all of it so very much. Truly a gift to the fandom.

-

Success Rate by Viva_Islenska.

Gen | 64k words | Ongoing (14/16 chapters)

Summary: On a risky assignment to liberate allied hostages, Clone Force 99 is ambushed and overwhelmed. With the mission objective at stake, Tech and Echo stay behind as the rest of the Bad Batch is forced to make a hasty escape. Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker race to complete the assignment while Echo, dazed, injured, and badly damaged, occupies a prison cell onboard a transport bound for kark-knows-where. What’s worse? His brother lies bleeding and bereft of his goggles in the cell next door. (Takes place between CW 7.4 and TBB 1.1)

Notable tags: CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo Whump, Tech Whump (Star Wars: The Bad Batch)

Comments: Success Rate is a heart-stopping thriller from cover-to-cover and we've only just got to the gentle comfort of 'hurt/comfort' in the most recent chapter 14. Viva_Islenka is an amazing writer for the heart-wrenching torture scenes, gripping rescue scenes, careful medical scenes, and finally, the gentle comforting scenes at the end. Their version of the Bad Batch are so astute to their canon selves that it feels like you are reading an episode straight out of the show itself. I really, really enjoy their writing style and how it moulds so well into the story they are telling us, albeit laced with maximum hurt/comfort to boot! Please go give them some love for the ongoing story!

-

Grit by CT_IForgot.

Gen | 33k words | Ongoing (12/? chapters) Currently on hiatus.

Summary: Grit (n.) 1. Small particles of sand. 2. Courage, resolve, determination.

Grit (v.) 3. Doing absolutely anything and everything possible to ensure the five squad members that started the mission are still alive at the end of the mission.

Notable tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Injury

Comments: This style of mission fic is not one you often see in fandom, so CT_IForgot treats us to a horror-esque story that's written with expert craftmanship to match. Their writing style is born for this sort of story; suspenseful, action-packed, and gutwrenching. They paint us a vivid picture of the Bad Batch (with Echo) trying to confront an invisible foe, but also foes from within the Grand Army of the Republic. The story also allows the Bad Batch to fail (and fail they do!) which is another theme not often explored within this fandom and its fan fiction. And not only does it allow them to fail, but it explores their failures and the realistic consequences of said failures, while still sticking to its horror-esque genre and the mission fic trope.

I can't give CT_IForgot enough love this amazing addition to the fandom's fan fiction halls. Please go give them some extra love while they're on hiatus! Please also be sure to heed the warnings!

-

To Love and Be Loved by eternalqueenofthemyscira.

Gen | 11k words | Complete

Summary: Three times that Tech’s brothers tell him that they love him and one time he starts to believe them.

Notable tags: Brotherly Love

Comments: This fic is just. So cute. I go back and re-read it when I need a pick-me-up, or when I need to wind down in the evenings. Eternal writes us into four gorgeous scenarios across the Clone Wars (unfortunately without Echo) which focuses on Tech's relationship with the three other founding members of the Bad Batch. It borrows from Wwheeljack's Ultra Soft Batch series in a way, that Tech is characterised as an unsure and shy man who struggles to find his place in amongst his unit. But the fic is also gentle and permitting to Tech as he ponders his reason for being, while existing in a galaxy at war. Eternal gives Tech ample time to learn, and she is kind to the rest of the Bad Batch in turn, allowing them to be gentle despite what is going on around them.

-

Pyrrhic Victory by TheEasternEmpress.

Gen | 5.8k words | Complete

Summary: Pyrrhic victory - a victory that comes at a great cost, perhaps making the ordeal to win not worth it.

The Bad Batch’s mission was marked as a success, but a feeling of failure flooded every corner of the Havoc Marauder. In their hearts, the Bad Batch knew they had truly failed.

Notable tags: Mentions of Child Death

Comments: As the name suggests, this fic follows a particularly haunting mission for the Bad Batch in the early years of the Clone Wars. We know that the unit boast a 100% success rate, but this fic is one of those that makes you ponder how that 'success' is defined. Empress explores this concept hauntingly, in a way, but also in a way that is comforting - to us as the readers, and to the characters in this scenario. I really enjoyed her use of language throughout the piece, with long, swelling paragraphs that paint the picture of a larger scene of desired peace between her Batch members. Though this is a sad fic, it's another one I go and re-read when I need it, because it gives you the message of "it's okay to fail, even if you've succeeded". It's a lovely message and this is a lovely fic to match.

-

The Burden of Command by Destril.

Gen | 4.1k words | Complete

Summary: Hunter is struggling under the pressure of balancing his duty as their Sergeant and with his duty as their brother as the war rages on and Clone Force 99 is pushed to the brink. His team notices and steals a moment to just breathe and take care of their brother.

Notable tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hunter is trying to be the best leader and best brother he can

Comments: Full disclosure, I prompted this fic out of Destril because I adore her iteration of the Bad Batch so very much. The Burden of Command focuses on the unit nearing the end of the war (including Echo!), and it's a unit that's dreadfully weighed down by responsibility and fighting (fighting droids, and in-fighting). Like with Silence, Destril paints us a picture of an imperfect squad with a perfect track record. That pressure is enough for anyone to crumble under, to which this fic portrays them succumbing to some of the pressure. Hunter, specifically. Somebody needs to give that man a break.

Destril weaves us a beautiful picture of some of the Bad Batch's downtime with this fic. A slice of life, sort of thing, with hurt/comfort mixed it. Her writing is a treat, allowing us to explore those hidden moments, with beautiful brotherly intimacy between this group of 5 men. I'm very thankful for the chance to prompt her, and just had to include this fic in my must-read list.

-

Imperial Era / Current Canon

Exceptional Minds by Echo_Base1.

Gen | 6.2k words | Complete

Summary: Tech and Omega grapple with guilt and unfamiliarity following Daro.

Notable tags: Omega & Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) (relationship), Character Study

Comments: This fic is a lovely insight into Tech's state of mind following the events of season 1, episode 14 (War Mantle). It sees Tech trying to reconcile what happened to Hunter with Tech's reason for being - his intelligence and his 'enhancement'. Echo_Base gives us some lovely insight into Tech's upbringing on Kamino for him to have adopted this point of view, and how the Bad Batch being on the run has continually challenged Tech's previous views of himself. It then complements this line of thinking, in its study of Tech, by introducing us to Omega, who is similarily upset after the events on Daro. The two of them have a heartfelt conversation about what happened. It's one of those canon 'missing scene' fics for me, between episodes 14 and 15, and one I will hold dearly to my chest. Echo_Base really brings it home here in the end, and goes in for the kill in the last section. A good read all the way through.

-

I need a minute (to get my head straight) by postapocalyptic_cryptic.

Gen | 407 words (drabble) | Complete

Summary: For the dialogue prompts: 'I just need to rest' for Hunter.

Notable tags: Post Season 1, [Hunter's] had a rough couple of weeks

Comments: I always really enjoy Mikey's short Batch fics and this one is another great one to their collection. In 400 words, I am worrying, smiling sadly, worrying some more, and then smiling bittersweetly. It also touches on something the show does not - that is, is Hunter okay? He fell off a mountain, got captured, held hostage, fought droids, survived a bombardment, and then escaped a destroyed underwater city. Someone give this man a break.

-

Long Road Ahead by pierced_shrike (hanged_albatross).

Gen | 3.1k words | Complete

Summary: Just like their armor, the Bad Batch changes over the months following the destruction of Kamino.

Notable tags: Obligatory Trailer Fic, Cuz ya'll- the outfit change

Comments: I love this fic. Love love love this fic. It fills the gap between seasons 1 and 2, where we now know we will see the Bad Batch change their armour. It is so bittersweet, so beautiful, yet tells the story it needs to. Every word has purpose and it hits said purpose, tenfold. I have always really enjoyed Hanged_Albatross' works (one featured on the last rec list!) so it's a joy to see them return to the fandom with such a gorgeous fic.

-

Other / AU

Scrambled Feelings All Get Replaced by Littleking_caduceus.

Gen | 3.6k words | Complete

Summary: A distant part of Tech, the one separate from the chip, separate from the eyes wide with misplaced, fiery anger, would have screamed at himself. He was hurting his family. Was this how Crosshair felt? His twin brother, his little brother, pushed by an unseen force to hurt the ones he loved for an unnamed crime?

What if Tech had been the one who's inhibitor chip activated on Bracca?

Notable tags: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Sign Language

Comments: Littleking weaves us a short but sharp 'what if' look into Tech's chip activating on Bracca. We get the wrenching action, but we also get the tender care afterwards, which makes this fic a perfect execution of the hurt/comfort trope. I really enjoyed how Littleking's writing style moulded to the theme of the fic, particularly the second 'comfort' chapter. The inclusion of the Batch's realistic reactions (specifically Hunter) to what happened is the icing on the cake for really enjoying this brief but impactful exploration into an alternative path of action on Bracca.

-

Even If We Break by NightOwl1796.

Gen | 2k words | Complete

Summary: [The only sound was the whispering of the waves, carrying on the breeze, sailing into nothingness. And suddenly the infinitely aching realisation that Crosshair would not resurface on his own hit him like a dagger in the chest.]

It is Crosshair's capsule that does not resurface from the Kaminoan waters. This time, Hunter won't leave him behind. Not again.

Notable tags: Drowning

Comments: I really, really love this 'what if' exploration for season 1, episode 16 (Kamino Lost). It's short and sweet, but it does the job for an emotional twist of the knife about Crosshair's motif of being left behind by the Bad Batch. And it does it well, in a song fic, which is themed to Brother by Kodaline. Which I have on all of my Bad Batch playlists. Ouch.

-

Carry Us Away by lunarshadow.

Gen | 5.5k words | Complete

Summary: “Echo,” he repeated, “I will not be angry at you for leaving me. It is the only choice we have. And I will not let you die here when you clearly have a way to survive.”

Tech’s grip tightened on Echo’s shoulder, a sincere look in his eyes. Echo had never seen Tech like this. One thing was for sure: he wanted Echo to do this. Losing an ongoing battle to the flood swimming in his eyes, Echo heard his brother whisper one more word.

“Please.”

OR: What happens when Tech and Echo's capsule is the one that remains underwater.

Notable tags: Tech Whump (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Drowning

Comments: This fic is exactly the same as the above fic (a 'what if' for Kamino Lost) but it focuses on Tech instead of Crosshair. And I enjoyed it just the same, just because Lunarshadow paints us a gut wrenching picture while balancing it with some more repetitive Crosshair motifs. It reads beautifully and I can't speak more highly of the imagery. Carry Us Away really did let me think of where we could have been, what with this course of the story for episode 16, and it's somewhere I wouldn't have minded ending up at all.

-

if the ocean was whiskey by hellowkatey.

Gen | 5k words | Complete

Summary: If you are reading this, then you must have the unfortunate privilege of encountering my brothers while they are under the influence of alcoholic beverages. First, I begrudgingly apologize on their behalf.

Second, I have rigged this message to be automatically delivered to the comms of those in their vicinity whenever their blood-alcohol levels rise above a level to indicate they are beyond the capacity of rational thought. I hope this guide may offer some helpful tips in the event that they start to escalate any situations, as they are known to do.

Good luck, and I hope to not hear from you tonight. -Tech

Notable tags: Drunken Shenanigans, vignettes of the batch being fools

Comments: This fic is just. So funny. Hellowkatey is an amazing writer, and this fic is an example of her writing ability and range within the numerous genres and fandoms she is a part of. If The Ocean Was Whiskey was a product of our amused musings in an 'out of character' roleplay chat and I will go and re-read it whenever I need to smile a little bit. It explores each of the Bad Batch's reactions to being drunk, and Tech's reactions to each of them throughout their drunken shenengians (as Tech himself abstains from drinking alcohol).

I've lumped it in the 'other' tab as it reads a little like crack!fic, but it's crack only in the sense that it involves drugs and alcohol. You can also check out the associated roleplay thread, Adjustments For Life and Personality (and How It Hurts).

-

The World We Once Knew, Gone It Is by AgentMaryMargaretSkitz.

Gen | 77k words | Ongoing (8/? chapters)

Summary: What if it wasn't Crosshair's chip that activated with Order 66?

What if the chip that activated belonged to the leader of the Bad Batch?

What happens then?

Notable tags: Echo's Leadership Era, Imperial Hunter

Comments: I have no idea where to start with Kate and her fic. She has crafted us a beautiful alternate universe that manages to be even more painful than canon, with Crosshair's inhibitor chip activating. She crafts us a universe where the Bad Batch are struggling without their leader, but are coming into their own with the void that Hunter's absence/betrayal has left them. It touches on all of the correct and satisfying emotional notes, including addressing that void, Hunter's fall, and the outcomes of that while having a child in tow. The fic also boasts a storyline for Hunter while he is under the influence of his inhibitor chip, and an interesting one at that, which continues to develop in Kate's ongoing chapters. She has just released chapters 7 & 8.

Please go give her some love for the ongoing work. She deserves all of it, then some, with the innovative and captivating universe she has created. Her writing style leaves you hanging for more, but it makes you read between the lines as well - where Kate generously leaves us plenty of clues for what is going on in her newly-crafted universe. Her ability to have you on the edge of your seat is unparalled. Truly another gift work to the fandom.

-

[hyperesthesias]

(from smooth-boob) ⭐ I don’t know what you write but now I will know!

send in a ⭐star⭐  to have the author select a section they’ve been dying to talk about!

This is incredibly late mostly because I panicked and suddenly had no idea which fanfic to write about lol

But I decided last night. It's one I wrote five years ago, before the pandemic. It was a very difficult time in my life (which you will hear me say many more times than you have already LMAO), but writing this fic helped get me through some very disturbing and emotional nights.

Lost Time, a Boba Fett and Original Character fanfic. It was largely inspired by Karen Traviss' interpretation of Boba and the chronic, terminal illness he suffered after he escaped the Sarlacc. It centered around Boba leaving his wife, Valera, once he realizes his illness is going to take his life. He's lived with the chronic pain for many years, but once death starts to catch up with him, he doesn't want his wife to watch him die.

Rereading it now, all I can see are its flaws. Structural/grammatical things that I don't like, things I wish I had expounded upon, scenes that needed tweaking. But I try having mercy on myself, because even with it being a violent time in my life, I still think I did pretty well. Even if I still think it sucks. The dichotomy of a perpetually dissatisfied author.

I liked how in-universe I kept everything, even with the addition of original characters like Valera, Gira Lemm, and the Twi'lek who hires Boba, while also maintaining real-world tribulations like chronic/terminal illness, a Ponzi scheme, and martial relationships. I liked the tone throughout the fic, the use of language and connotations, I tried to give the fic a sombre feeling, while also keeping a driving tempo and momentum.

The one scene I think of, whenever I think of this fic, is when Boba sees Valera at the party, and he runs away from her, but she chases him:

"...But when she stepped into the hallway, a scent wafted into her memory and a flutter emerged from the corner of her eye. A threadbare piece of tattered fabric – one she knew she had mended many times before. Am I to wake to find the edge of my bed empty again?

She sprinted towards it and found the door had begun to fall closed, it occluded her view of anything past its hinges. She threw it open and found a fading figure in the darkness: one that blended in with the green of manicured landscapes, the verdant trees that lined the distance, the jade that breathed in the aurora above the mountain tops. And in the night starlight a glimmer of red ribbon shone in a coil wrapped round the man’s belt. The ribbon she once used to tie her hair. It is him."

I really liked the addition and recurring element of the red ribbon she uses to tie her hair; how he took it when he first left, and tied it around his belt. Men of war used to keep their wives' ribbons with them and tie them to their armour, and that was something I really wanted to add, especially being that he is a Mandalorian, and they take pride in their accoutrements and trophies.

I also like how Valera isn't ignorant when it comes to her husband. He may be a man of war, but she is a woman of peace, but she married him knowing full well what he does: "She’d had no delusions of what her husband did. She never had. But the past doesn’t die, regardless of who else does." She makes peace with it because she loves him, not because she's a fool.

I wanted to write more with Boba and Valera, and to be fair, the work does have an additional chapter that precedes it, but I had always hoped to write about their life after Lost Time. But I think the ambiguity serves them better. You can imagine anything for them, including a happy ending.

[bookishofalder]

Pretty Girl - Blurb 4

A/N: I just hit 300 followers HOLY CRAP so here’s a fluffy, final blurb for Pretty Girl. I love you guys, thank you for enjoying this story and sticking around. Also, I mention miscarriage and fertility issues in this blurb. I myself experienced a miscarriage at 18 weeks with twins and am still grieving and trying to get pregnant again. I wish for my rainbow baby every day. 🤍

Summary: Pretty Girl and Flip are having a baby.

Warnings: Pregnancy, language, fertility issues, miscarriage mention, grief, labour, fluff. 

Flip was busy typing away at his desk, trying to stay on top of all of his paperwork. As much as (Y/N) helped him, there were still sections of the reports he had to complete himself, and falling behind wasn’t an option right now. He sat back in his chair, taking a brief break to roll his neck when movement by the doors to the bullpen caught his eyes.

A large, round belly preceded his wife into view, and as always she took Flip off guard; seeing her glowing, beautiful face. Some baser instinct within him enjoyed seeing (Y/N) round with his child; it caused a ripple of satisfaction to course through him. When she kept moving toward him, her eyes bright, Flip jumped up, frantic.

“Darling,” He hurried to her side, hands hovering around her unnecessarily, “You promised you’d keep off your feet at much as possible. I told you I’d come to check on you shortly.” Flip watched as she laughed, rolling her eyes affectionately. She had one hand placed absentmindedly over her bump, gently rubbing circles.

At thirty-eight weeks pregnant, Flip’s wife had impressed him every day with her unwillingness to give up routine and work simply because she was with child. She insisted on staying on at the station until the baby came. And while he didn’t like her working too hard, it was nice to have her close by. This way, he could keep an eye on her and take care of her as much as possible. And she had reduced her duties at work, agreeing with Flip that overdoing things wouldn’t be good for her or the baby.

They had been married a few years now, the best of his life for the most part. Marrying your best friend had a way of making every day an adventure. Of course, not everything was sunshine for them; but they had one another and they knew they could get through anything. They always did.

When Flip had been shot in the arm the previous year, (Y/N) had marched into the hospital and, surprising everyone, punched the rookie cop in the face who left Flip open when he should have been watching his six.

Flip had never been prouder of her.

They’d stopped using protection early on in the marriage, agreeing they were both ready to start a family. But it hadn’t come easy for them, months turned into a year of no success and the light that he took for granted in his wife started to waver, just a little. When they got pregnant the first time, Flip had overcome with emotion and he nearly left the parking lot of the doctor’s office without (Y/N), who had run to the bathroom before coming outside. When he realized what he’d done and turned around, he found her standing outside laughing so hard she was crying. That had been a damn good day.

At just nine weeks pregnant, they found out that they had lost the baby. Things had changed for (Y/N) and Flip. He left the doctor's office with the heavy weight of grief, and he knew his perfect, lovely wife was more crushed than she was letting on. She had taken a leave from work, and it had been a rough few months of coming home to a quiet house, (Y/N) asleep on the couch most days. They had stopped having sex, which didn't bother Flip in itself, it was just the reasoning that worried him.

The night that (Y/N) broke down and admitted she felt like a huge failure still replayed in Flip’s mind every once in a while. The raw, excruciating pain had been so evident on her face, his pretty girl so heartbroken she felt like she was failing him. Like she could ever do anything wrong. Flip had comforted her, but more importantly, he made it clear that nothing about their pregnancy troubles or the loss of their baby was her fault. He had cried with her that night. As they clung to one another in the bath and the sun set outside. He cried for their loss. He cried for her pain. He cried with his wife and they promised each other they would have no regrets. Life was what it was. Having each other meant they could do anything, could get through anything.

The next time she got pregnant was just after he had been shot. He’d had a few weeks leave, but (Y/N) had long since returned to work, so he spent long days at home alone trying to pass the time. On one such day, he had been sitting in his favourite chair in their living room, his hand stroking over his hard length as he sought to escape, frantic and needy and so consumed in himself that he hadn’t heard her come home. What he didn't miss was the way her hand suddenly wrapped around him; his eyes had flown open and found her gazing at him with such hunger as she gripped him that he only just managed to launch himself forward, toppling them onto the floor, and take her right there.

A few weeks later, they had found out they were pregnant.

And now, (Y/N) was fully and unmistakably pregnant or, as she liked to say, ready to pop any moment. Though relatively good-natured, Flip had been a witness or victim to many mood swings, including one that had involved an ashtray being thrown at his head because he forgot to buy pickles. Christ, he never made that mistake again.

“I’ve been taking it easy, detective, don’t worry.” (Y/N) patted Flip’s arm with her free hand, smiling up at him as he fretted at her side.

Flip tried to steer her to his seat, “I know, but you could go into labour at any time and being on your feet too much-“

“Oh, well,” She was giving Flip a funny smile now, her eyes glinting, “That’s actually why I came back here. My water broke a few minutes ago.”

Flip stared down at his wife as though she’d suddenly sprouted a second head. He went entirely rigid, and all conscious thought slid out of his head, replaced with a faint ringing.

“Flip, honey, come back to me.”

“I-uh, what?” He shook his head, attempting to assemble his thoughts, “What’s going on?”

(Y/N) was giggling now, “Flip Zimmerman, my water broke.”

“Pretty girl,” He murmured, suddenly reaching out to grip her shoulders, “Are you saying...are we having a baby?”

Before she could answer, (Y/N) suddenly winced, the hand on her belly stilling and her eyes closing and she took a few deep, slow breaths. This was all it took to bring reality slamming into Flip and he instantly began grabbing his things. Shrugging his jacket on, tucking his keys and wallet into his pockets. His mind was now racing at a mile a minute. But they’d planned for this, going so far as to bring their hospital bag to work every day just in case.

“Whew, that’s a fun feeling.” (Y/N) mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Darling, are you okay to walk for me?” Flip leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to her lips, smiling at her when she opened her eyes and nodded. Taking it slow, they made their way out of the bullpen and down the hall. Flip raced behind the reception desk to grab the go-bag and (Y/N)‘s jacket.

Donna came out of the washroom as he hurried back out from behind it, her eyes spotting Flip before moving to where (Y/N) was slightly hunched over, breathing through more contractions.

“OH!” Donna cried out, clapping her hands excitedly. “Oh, it’s time! Go, go, I’ll let the Sarge know. Good luck you two, and Flip drive safely to the hospital!” She raced over and gave (Y/N) a quick hug, before turning on Flip and embracing him with happy tears in her eyes.

With a quick thank you, they were on the move again. Flip hurried ahead and got the truck, pulling it up out front of the station as his wife waddled out, looking more relaxed now that her contraction had eased up. He helped slide her into her seat, carefully buckling her in before breaking the speed limit to get the few blocks away to the hospital.

One of the perks of being a detective was that most of the hospital staff knew Flip already. So when he walked in the doors, an arm around (Y/N)‘s shoulders and a frantic look on his face, about eight nurses rushed over and began to dote on them both, one settling (Y/N) into a wheelchair while they helped Flip check them in.

In no time at all, they were settling into labour and delivery, (Y/N) now wearing the open-backed hospital gown that gave Flip a pretty nice view every time she stood at the side of her bed and leaned over to breathe through contractions. The woman couldn’t sit still; the pain and nervousness rendering her ability to relax null.

Flip rubbed her lower back, standing behind her and appreciating the strength his wife had. “What are you staring at, detective?” She asked, breaking him from his thoughts. (Y/N) was staring over her shoulder at Flip, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Just, thinking about how incredible you are, darling.” He admitted, hands still kneading her skin gently.

(Y/N) hummed appreciatively, “Funny, I was going to say the same about you.”

“Ah, well, I’m not the one about to do all the hard work here, so I’ll defer all compliments for now,” Flip joked, and she laughed before hissing a breath as her next contraction took over.

“Fuck,” She focused on her breathing for a few moments, “Flip, promise you’ll stay here with me the whole time?” Her voice was surprisingly small at that moment, and he knew if he could see her face, it would be twisted in a vulnerable grimace.

He reached up and smoothed her hair back, “Pretty girl, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be at your side the whole time,” Flip leaned down and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, “You don’t worry about a thing, alright? I’ll take care of you.”

And he did, in as much as he could. Never leaving her side once, Flip witnessed every moment of labour. Labour lasted about six hours, and then he experienced every moment of the birth of their child. He held her hand throughout, rubbing her shoulder with his free hand and ignoring the pain in the one she had a vice-like grip on. Flip pressed a cool cloth to her forehead between pushing, whispering sweet nothings and praise in her ear as she cried out in pain, until suddenly (Y/N) was slumping into the pillows propped up behind her with a sigh of relief, and then the brief silence filled with a cry.

Their newborn baby gave a shrill shriek of displeasure, and Flip and (Y/N) were entirely overcome with emotion. Flip stepped forward to cut the umbilical cord. With the help of the doctor, he took hold of the baby to lay them on (Y/N)‘s chest. The baby's cries dulled somewhat then, as she clutched their baby to her skin and gazed down with so much affection he felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks, his heart so full of joy it nearly hurt.

“Congratulations, mommy and daddy!” The doctor said a few minutes later. He then took the baby to be checked over and cleaned up, across the room.

Flip leaned down and pressed his lips to (Y/N)‘s forehead, “You doing alright, pretty girl?” When she nodded sleepily, he raised his hands to cup her cheeks, thumbs brushing across her soft, damp skin. “You did so well, darling. You were so strong and brave, I’m so proud of you. I love you.” He kissed her again, this time capturing her lips briefly.

(Y/N) sighed with content, “I love you too, Flip,” Her eyes were fluttering now, exhaustion pulling her toward a much-deserved slumber, though he saw them flicker to where the nurses were standing with the baby, working at swaddling them. “Will you stay with the baby?”

“Course I will, darling. Now get some sleep,” He reached down for her blankets and pulled them up, tucking her in better as the nurses that had been tidying up her lower body finished up. “Baby and I will be right here when you wake up, pretty girl.”

With one last smile, (Y/N) slipped off to sleep, her breathing evening out as Flip watched. He didn’t even feel tired, and true to his word he didn’t go anywhere, staying with her and the baby, whom he was holding when she woke back up a few hours later.

Flip slid onto the bed next to her and together they held their little bundle of joy, each staring into the little, scrunched up face with huge grins. Their little rainbow baby.

Tag list ✨

@tashastrange89 @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @morby @pradaxstyles @10blurredsmoke10 @mermaidxatxheart @paintballkid711

[alj4890]

Delicate

(Olivia Nevarkis x Ethan Ramsey) (Olivia Nevarkis x Drake Walker) in a Choices The Royal Romance/Open Heart Crossover crack series.

A/N The story continues with their first date. Ethan remembers a night where he was ready to admit that he was attracted to Olivia. And during another date, Olivia gets a surprise from Cordonia. 

@jooous​ @krsnlove​ @nomadics-stuff​  @twinkleallnight​ @motorcitymademadame​

Masterlist

Part 2

Bistro Du Midi, Boston...

Ethan couldn't recall the last time he enjoyed a meal more than he was this one with Olivia. Though they had shared a number of meals the last few months at the hospital, something about this one seemed, well, more.

He knew it had to be because he had been honest with her in what he wanted. And surprisingly, she wanted the same.

A chance to be together.

While she was relating a story from one of her adventures with her friends in Cordonia, he studied her closely. Her red hair was down, making he yearn to run his fingers through it. Her emerald eyes lacked the suspicious edge he had witnessed directed at people she didn't know well. He loved that he had watched it slowly fade with each coffee date they had.

They were dates, he thought to himself. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I went from using them to find out her true mission for the hospital to wanting to discover everything I could about her. Be near her. Have her undivided attention.

He prided himself on not simply falling for a pretty face.

Olivia is gorgeous.

He required more from people, like intelligence and steadfastness.

She is as sharp as those daggers she always has on her. Her ability to understand the complexities of not only medicine but also the trials I face both personally and professionally have left me astounded. For an outsider to step up and face my personal demons head on, without flinching, without wavering...how did I not notice it sooner?

************

The Royal Palace, Cordonia...

Drake paused on the way to his chambers when he overheard Riley say Olivia's name.

"Hana said that Olivia is wearing one of the dresses for her date tonight."

"So the suspicions you all have had are true?" Drake could hear the teasing in Liam's tone. "She and Dr. Ramsey have fallen for one another?"

"Working together allowed them to discover that there are some sparks worth exploring." Riley giggled. "I can't wait to meet him."

"If Olivia agreed to a date then it must be serious." Liam mused. "She wouldn't risk losing him to head the research hospital."

"You're right!" Riley exclaimed. "I thought Hana was joking about drawing up possible wedding gowns for Liv. No wonder she is looking ahead."

Drake staggered back.

This is why Maxwell suggested I go to Boston. He must have overheard Riley and Hana's conversation.

He headed to his room. He had some decisions to make.

*****************

Boston Opera House...

"Interesting choice." Olivia whispered as she read the title Turnadot on the program.

Ethan chuckled as he settled his arm along the back of her chair. "I thought you might think so."

She shook her head as a smile played about her lips. "I hope you aren't about to say that I'm anything like Turnadot."

"A cold woman who enjoys making men suffer with riddles, torture, and death until finally the right man comes along?" He winked at her. "Not at all."

She laughed softly, enjoying the lightheartedness she felt around him.

His fingers brushed her shoulder as he toyed with a lock of her hair. He found his attention couldn't remain on the opera. Seeing the contentment on his date's face held him captivated.

Ethan thought of the other times he had been unable to focus on anything other than her. There had been a few where her guard had dropped and he had seen a new side of the fiery duchess. One night in particular had caused him to realize his feelings for her had changed.

And he knew that it must have for her too...

**************

Two months ago, Edenbrook...

Olivia Nevarkis, report to the E.R. immediately.

"What on earth?" Olivia paused mid step on her way out of the lobby.

Why is someone paging me to the emergency room?

After two months at Edenbrook, she had learned every shortcut and exit.

Getting to the E. R. Was not a problem. Being called there like a member of the medical staff was the real mystery.

She scanned her I.D. and paused at the pandemonium that had erupted.

Her eyes immediately found Ethan at the center of the chaos as he gave orders to the ones working the graveyard shift.

She had never seen him in this type of situation before. Most of their time was spent walking down hallways or sitting in his office discussing aspects that she should present to Liam and the council with building a research hospital.

This was eye opening.

He's...he's impressive.

His blue eyes settled on her.

"Olivia, follow me." He ordered.

She quirked an eyebrow at not only his command but that he didn't bother checking to see if she was following him.

If she didn't know better, she would mistake him for a noble.

She hurried to catch up to him.

"What's happened?" She asked.

"There was a wreck on I-95." He explained. "Multiple cars involved."

Her brow furrowed with concern at the thought of using her nursing skills. "Are you shorthanded? Is that why you paged me?"

"In a way." He paused outside of a closed off section of the E. R. "I need you to sit with a child around five or six years old."

"What?" She blinked in surprise.

"Her parents were severely injured." He lowered his voice. "Both are in emergency surgery as we speak."

Olivia swallowed, averting her eyes. "I--I don't really have that much experience dealing--"

"Look around, Olivia." He motioned with his hand. "There is no one else right now."

She briefly closed her eyes. "Very well. Is she hurt?"

There was a  warm look of approval in his eyes that sent an unexpected fluttering in her stomach.

"Broken arm." He replied.

Olivia opened the door and preceded him.

She felt a jolt of déjà vu.

There sitting on the bed was a little girl with red hair.

Tears were running down her cheeks as she looked up at them.

"Kylie, this is Olivia." Ethan's deep voice was warm and friendly. "She is going to sit with you until your grandparents get here."

"What about Mommy and Daddy?" She sniffed.

"They are being taken care of." He told her. "In fact, I'm going to go see how they are and come back here to tell you." He lifted her arm that had a purple cast around it. "I'll make sure and tell your mom you picked her favorite color."

Olivia quietly observed as he helped calm the little girl down. He even caused her to giggle when he handed her a stuffed bear he had bought at the gift shop.

If only I had had someone like him when my parents died. To be given that kind of comfort during such uncertainty...

But Kylie's parents weren't dead. Nor were they traitors to their country, Olivia thought grimly.

Ethan turned to leave, pausing once more to look at the duchess.

"Olivia?"

She lifted her eyes to his.

He studied her quietly and gave a brief smile. "I'll be back."

Once the door shut, Olivia sat down in a chair by the bed.

Not knowing what to say, she hoped Kylie would rest or speak first.

"You have pretty hair." The little girl said.

Olivia reached up self consciously to smooth her hair. "Thank you." Her lips curved in a smile. "So do you."

"My daddy has red hair too." Kylie told her. "But he says his isn't pretty like mine."

Olivia nodded, unsure if she should agree or not.

"Does your daddy have red hair?" Kylie asked.

"No." Olivia grimaced at her harsh tone. Why her parents still brought this out in her irked her to no end. "He had brown hair."

"Oh." Kylie tilted her head. "Does your mommy have red hair?"

"Yes." Olivia lowered her eyes. "I used to love to brush it for her."

"I do too!" Kylie beamed at her. "But mine has yellow hair."

Olivia's forced smile disappeared when Kylie began to softly cry again.

"I wish mommy was here."

The duchess quickly rose to her feet unsure how to quiet these tears.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Olivia looked about the stark room. "Something to drink or--"

"I want my mommy." Kylie wailed, rubbing her eyes with her good arm.

Olivia sat down on the bed, intending to pat her back in sympathy.

Kylie instead crawled into her lap and nestled her head under Olivia's chin.

Momentarily shocked by this, the duchess lifted her arms a few times before gently hugging the little girl.

She spoke softly to her, reassuring her that her mother wanted to be here just as much.

She smoothed the red locks of hair off the damp cheeks, and rested her own cheek against the little head.

This type of pain she was well acquainted with. How often had she cried that very sentence into the darkness of her bedroom in Lythikos, just to have it unanswered?

Olivia silently prayed that this little girl would not suffer a similar fate. 

Something within her seemed to soften, almost break. It was as if that part of her heart that she had smothered through years of hardness cracked anew with each little tremble of the child in her arms.

Tears pricked her eyes when Kylie snuggled closer. The need to be held was something Olivia had tried to ignore most of her life. Holding this scared, tiny girl brought that feeling back, nearly causing her to cry out with her own anguish.

Ethan paused at the window on his way back in the room. His hard gaze softened at the sight of the fiery tempered duchess holding a sick child as if she was somehow dear to her.

He had suspected that she might have a tender side. He had caught glimpses of it throughout her stay. But tonight, he was able to witness it in full form. He especially noticed them whenever it was just the two of them, usually when their conversations turned from the hospital to more personal memories.

The few brief remarks followed by the stark despair in her eyes each time parents were mentioned had led him to believe she had not had a happy childhood. If it was anything like his own, then Olivia was a remarkable woman.

His own heart twinge at the thought of being abandoned by his mother. For years he had ignored it, repeating to himself that he had not needed her. Was he not one of the most sought after diagnosticians in the world?

Everything he had accomplished he had done without a mother or the need of one. His hardened heart had kept him focused. Driven. He prided himself by not feeling emotions that he considered a weakness in his line of work.

But something about the sight of Olivia holding Kylie touched his numb heart. It wasn't so much the sweetness of the moment, but rather that long ago despair being awakened. It was almost as if he had found someone who could truly understand his anger and hurt he had kept buried all these years.

"Excuse us. Are you Dr. Ramsey?"

He turned toward an older couple. "Yes."

"We were called about our daughter and family being in a car wreck." The man said.

Ethan quickly explained the injuries of the family of three. He reassured them that it looked well for their daughter and son-in-law.

"They are both in recovery." He told them. "Their surgeons were pleased with how everything went."

"And our granddaughter?" The woman asked.

He opened the door for them. "Right in here."

"Kylie!" Her grandmother wiped her eyes, smiling as the little girl held her arms out to her.

Olivia set her back on her bed, and silently made her escape.

Ethan excused himself, promising to keep them updated, and chased after the duchess.

He caught up with her when she stepped outside.

"Olivia?" He reached out and touched her back in concern.

She was struggling to take deep breaths.

"What is it--" his arms closed around her when she pulled him close.

Her head rested on his chest, eyes shut tight, as she tried to calm down.

His arms tightened around her when hers slid around his waist.

Neither was sure how long they stood like that. Not a word was spoken as they gave each other the comfort they so often denied themselves through the years.

There was something different about being held in Ethan's arms compared to the few times Drake had briefly embraced her. Perhaps it was simply that this wasn't occurring doing the heat of passion like her former lover's had been. Something though about this felt more intimate than all those other times before.

Eventually, Olivia stepped back. Her reluctance wasn’t lost on Ethan. He let his hands move to grasp hers, keeping her near.

"I'm...sorry." She lowered her eyes from his perceptive blue ones. "I don't know what came over me."

"No need to apologize." He squeezed her hands. "I..." He swallowed and looked down. "I needed a moment like that too."

Her head jerked up, eyes searching his face for any sign that he was merely saying that to make her feel less foolish. When she saw nothing but his own vulnerability at being caught needing a hug too, she relaxed.

He cleared his throat. "It's late. Why don't you let me drive you home?"

"Thank you." She noticed that neither of them was willing to let go of the other.

Ethan forced his fingers to slip away from hers. "I'll meet you in the lobby."

She watched him walk towards a set of elevators. His confident stride seemed less so as he turned to look at her once more.

For some reason, she felt like he needed her to give him some form of encouragement. Her lips curved somewhat into a half smile.

His own flashed before he disappeared in the elevator.

***************

Ethan knew in that moment that he was ready to admit at least to himself that he was falling for Olivia. He had been reluctant to suggest a date, but all that changed when he noticed that she seemed happier whenever he invited her out for coffee or lunch. Her smile came more easily. Her eyes had that sparkle that made it hard to look away. 

She had made him excited at taking a chance to see where this could go.

Now he intended that this date was the first of many nights spent together.

***************

Olivia’s heart raced when they finally were at her apartment. Clearing her throat, she invited him inside.

There was nothing Ethan wanted more than to spend the night with her. But he wanted to do this right. He thought she deserved everything, including himself, at its best.

“I intend on taking things between us as they should be.” He pulled her close. “You have no idea how hard it is to not step inside and...” His lips captured hers in a heated kiss.

Olivia felt herself melting against him. Each brush of his tongue, the soft feel of his lips contrasted by the prickly sensation of his stubble, all of it was a heady mixture that made her desire more. She wanted all that he placed before her: a true romantic relationship.

He groaned when her hands moved up his chest as their lips crashed together for another kiss.

He lifted his head, softly smiling at the smile forming on her slightly swollen lips.  “Why don’t we plan on spending the weekend together?”

“I’d like that.” She gently caressed his cheek. 

“So would I.” He kissed her once more swearing to himself that this would be as far as he could push his restraint. 

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” He added as he let his arms slide away from her.

She nodded, feeling a bit dazed by the emotions she felt from his words and touch.

They parted, each surprisingly happier than they had been before.

***************

The following weekend...

“...and that was how Thomas knew I was the one.” Amanda finished, laughing at the soft groan coming from her husband. “You know it’s true.”

“Not even close.” He wrapped his arm around her. “And you know that’s true.”

Olivia rolled her eyes to hide how pleased she was to see one of her closest friends with someone who adored her. She settled next to Ethan after offering refills of wine. She felt a brief burst of delight when he draped his arm along the back of the loveseat. His fingers toyed with her red hair before dropping to her shoulder. She felt her cheeks heat up at finally finding a man not afraid to show her affection in front of others.

Something about this felt so foreign and yet at the same time, it felt right. This was a whole new experience, one she thought she could easily get used to.

The two couples had enjoyed dinner at Olivia’s apartment. Though Ethan was familiar with Amanda during her sporadic visits to assist Olivia in her preparing to move forward with the research hospital, this was the first time he had met her husband. Uncertain what type of man the famous director would be, he found a somewhat kindred spirit in the gruff man. Like Ethan, he had little patience for foolish people. He seemed to prefer avoiding large crowds and such. And just like the doctor, he seemed most content with a particular Cordonian lady.

“I still say we go sailing.” Olivia added when suggestions for the next day were bandied about. “It’s been ages since I have had a chance to get out on the water.”

“I haven’t been in a while either.” Ethan added.

“I wouldn’t mind relaxing among the waves.” Thomas remarked.

“I guess this means we’re going sailing.” Amanda teased.

“Good, I knew  I would wear you all down.” Olivia smirked as they all chuckled.

Right when she got up to get dessert, her door was knocked on.

Her brow furrowed as she went to answer it. 

Seeing the last two people she would ever expect to visit her in Boston caused her to lose all ability to speak.

Her lips parted, yet not a sound came out.

Maxwell nudged Drake.

Clearing his throat, he slowly smiled at her.

“Hey Liv. It’s been a long time.”

[gveret-fic]

Alright HtN final thoughts

Similarly to the last book, I’m overstimulated to all hell and back. Gideon is my favorite protagonist of all time, no question. The sheer endorphin rush I get reading her cracking jokes and being insufferable is just bonkers. I started this book with 2 spoilers, without which I might never have even started this book: 1) there was Gideon content in HtN, and 2) there was multiple Gideons content in HtN. On the first point, I’m more than satisfied; I’m currently buzzing with how ecstatic that was as a reading experience. On the second, Gideon 1.0 was a boring lump of dude lmao, the only interesting thing about him was his bodyswap poly relationship with Better Gideon’s mom, which, wow. What a 10,000 year old soap opera. So that was disappointing, but you know what, one Gideon is really enough.

The vast majority of this book was a miserable slog and it genuinely hurt to read to the point where I don’t know that I can recommend this experience to anyone who isn’t already a huge fan. Yeah, the payoff was massive and I was played like a perfect little fiddle, but I don’t approve of the tune. I think Muir could’ve cut out a good third of the book and at the very least 50% of the relentless torture she put Harrow through and it would have still been effective. I still have a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t have a problem with difficult or hurtful stories and I’m not trying to invoke any moralistic outrage here, but that wasn’t what I expected or frankly could have prepared for coming out of the (drastically tonally different) first book and I do believe it was excessive. It was blow after blow after blow to an isolated, terrified, pointedly disabled protagonist with no single moment of relief, comfort or connection until the fucking reveal and I don’t want it, thanks.

Okay that’s enough about that. Now the rest of it.

I really tried to care about the new characters, but no dice. God had his moments, but we haven’t really seen him do too much interesting shit. Ianthe was fucking excellent, though I really really didn’t want her to be. The rest were dead boring, I’m sorry. The blasphemous makeouts were their only redeeming moment. When we finally got some Palamedes and Cam, I could have cried. Wish we could have spent more time with them, but I have high hopes for the next book. Ortus, surprisingly, was awesome! I wish him a happy afterlife with his poetic legendary husband. Also he did nothing wrong and all that nonsense about finally fighting for what’s important yada yada was pure military propaganda, let the man write lengthy poetry about his ghost boyfriend in peace. Dulcinea was a fucking badass! So happy she got a chance to shine, and to say ‘nyah!’ Abigail was also fantastic. Well that whole section of the book had me swimming in endorphins so maybe it isn’t saying much, but I fucking loved them, I fucking loved how much Harrow cared about them, Harrow, who had been an emotionally depleted husk throughout most of the book, now showing the most heartrending vulnerability and care for this little found ghost family and practically rotating through them one by one to apologize in the most terrible, gutpunching way, and finally being told not everything in the whole fucking world is her goddamn fault. This is the only reason I was able to accept no Gideon reunion, not even a single word between them. I’ve been yearning for hundreds of pages for Harrow to find human connection and care, and I’m so happy these are the people she found it with.

Gideon. I’m like tearing up right now just thinking about this. After the endless tedium, suffering, emotional disconnect to the point where characters dying horribly seemed insignificant against the backdrop of unrelenting despair, to have that vibrant, wonderful, dumbass motherfucking voice back---it was beyond cathartic. I reread every single line multiple times and I still don’t think I’ve wrung em fully dry. It was amazing. The personality dripping off the page, the immediate chemistry with any character living or dead or dull as rock, the blatant, beautiful disrespect for the sombre self importance of the whole preceding narrative. It was my favorite character crashing into one of my least favorite books, and making it awesome. I think a lot of people try to write a Gideon, and most of the time the result is completely unbearable, and I’d posit there’s 2 reasons for this: 1) they tragically, mistakenly make their Gideon a man, and 2) they just aren’t funny. Of course an unfunny Gideon would be unbearable. Of course a funny but emotionally vacant Gideon would be dull. But this Gideon is a fucking delight with a real heartfelt gooshy selfless vulnerable yearning center, and every line I got to spend with her was a rush.

Harrow and Gideon. Oof. I’ve been going back and forth on whether I shipped them, whether I even could, whether it was the intention at all. But like, come on. This is clearly a love story. It’s a love story from start to finish, and it’s cool that it got me to doubt that so sincerely when it’s just this level of ride and die, jump into hell, carve out your brain, share a body and preserve its modesty against your every instinct and not even make any jokes about it, universe crossing, death defying, soul melding level of mushy ass romance. Harrow fucking kept Gideon’s shitty sunglasses wrapped in a love note. She did find&replace on her whole personality. She kissed Ianthe. I remember the first time I watched Revolutionary Girl Utena, where almost every other episode would begin with a lil fairytail backstory recap telling you about the little girl who saw a prince and was so enamored she decided to become a prince too. And you believe that narrative, because why wouldn’t you? It’s a stylized repetitive fairytale at the start of a show. Why would it lie? And then you find out, at the very end, that it wasn’t the cool manly prince who precipitated all of this, but baby Utena witnessing another young girl in pain, and deciding then and there that she was going to grow up and help her. And she does, even if she can’t remember why.

This was that level of paradigm shift for me. Harrow and her pile of letters and rules and her obsession and her nauseating work ethic, what was she doing?? Saving the world? Fixing a broken timeline? Trying to unlock unlimited power, bring back the corpse in the locked tomb, serve her god and emperor? Nope! She was just trying to keep her big beautiful dumbass girlfriend a little bit alive. 

Yeah. It’s a fucking love story.

Random thoughts: I liked Harrow’s grudge against food and the word ‘pommel’. I liked the diminishing ages Mercy inflicted upon her. I liked the first/second person shenanigans, tho really, there’s no way that was Gideon’s voice, first of all, there was way too much anatomical knowledge there. (Gideon’s secretly a time traveling bone doctor, calling it now). I liked the fanfic AUs, and very sad we didn’t get a fake dating one or like a nice “there was only one bed”. Not gonna mention soulmate AUs cuz that’s just canon.

That was a ride. Coulda done without some parts of it, but don’t regret it one bit. Let’s see what kinda nonsense the next one brings!

[corvixa]

I have this thing, that when an idea gets in my head, I either get it out on paper or it will create a traffic jam in my head and bugger up everything. So, not including my ongoing Fics, which includes the Gold Universe as part 4 is still nearly finished, I just need that last push on it. These are Ideas that can have anything from a few scenes, an idea, plots, or several chapters.

So I call this -

Winteriron WIP

(because what else 😅, I have a problem.)

In Fire & Flames - In this universe, Phoenixes and Humans live together, if one species dies then the other will too. When a Phoenix does for good, lots of natural disasters happen, starts with Tony'parents dying and then Rhodey, who is also a Phoenix, finds Tony. Who is now familyless and dying as lone phoenixes tend to die. There are several different kinds, and they come in pairs general. Golden and Ice, for example, Golden are high in magic, Ice tends to protect, especially the rare Golden, it's more tribes than individuals, there is no requirement for who likes who. It's surprising how much making a few other Avengers phoenixes tweaks things here and there, this actually goes up to the fight in Siberia and is one of the bigger WIP's. (26k)

Flash of Gold - Avengers are shifters or humans with magic, and they think they know what Tony is. They believe he is a human with magic, but they notice that he has some shifter traits, which is odd as shifters can't have magic in this AU. Only in very old stories and myth. Tony, however, is a dragon, which are myth. Instead of being like most shifters a, a human that shifts to something, he is the reverse. It only has a few scenes. Full shebang, team as Family. Steve is even a good guy. James is brought to the tower after being found and slowly integrated into the group and is wondering wtf Tony is. (13k)

The Operative Program - Howard was never meant to be a father; he was a weaponsmith. So he took the red room and the wolf spider programs and decided to create himself an Operative that he hoped would be the darker side to help Steve when he found him. Two sides of the same coin, one for the light and one to work in the shadows, Tony would be under Steve's control, he would be a weapon for the man who only picked up a shield. (Also assassin Tony is just fun.) Tony in this is a mash-up really, Tony traits, like Gold but different as he has been trained his entire life, the only reason he has developed a sense of self is Rhodey and the fact his parents died at 17. Rhodey got there first after the car crash, getting to Tony before anyone else who knew what he was could potentially claim him. Tony definitely collects people. Yinsen and Vanko for example. Chapters from Ironman up to Avengers (not complete). But enjoyed myself rewriting some out of sequence chapters, so there is a nice big scene in Siberia. (15k)

Another Persons Wish - Now this was based on a post I saw going around. Person A is married to Person B. Person A is looking back at their life and wondering if they should have married B, etc. So, A is offered a wish. Poof. Goodbye Marriage. Person A is Steve, and the story is from Tony, person B's POV. It goes from Tony planning his anniversary(because I was apparently extremely angsty when I started this!) to waking up in the past, alone and wondering what the fuck has happened. 6 chapters entirely written. Chapter 7 is in a different file and in progress when I dabble on it. (30k)

Tarnished Gold - This is an AU from my AU AU XD. Basically similar set up to the Gold Universe, Tony escapes Hydra Captivity but is brought in by Rhodey instead of spending 2 years on his own cleaning up Hydra. He only spends about 7 months before Rhodey convinces him to come in. Few other tweaks here and there but that is just side. Rhodey and James are pals too. The plot here is Howard and Maria are brought back from the Dead and Rhodey is trying to work out how to tell them what has happened and that he can't just bring them to Tony, because he doesn't know if Tony will remember them yet. Tony is a little less 'give me orders, and I'll gut you, and more 'orders made things easier'. I basically flipped his and James reactions from the original Gold universe. Tony is more in need of a hug. It's very loosely put together. I wanted something where Howard was a good dad to offset the fact I kind of made him Hydra in the next piece, and I wanted a good family man Howard with the bringing the parents back because I love reading fics that bring Howard and Maria back. (9k)

Sins of The Father - Arno has just buried his father. His mother is in a coma, he is 20 and mourning his life now he's expected to take on the business when a visitor flips his work upside down worse than the phone call about the crash. His Father? Part of a program that summoned a creature known as a Void Walker. (A creature from the Void Loki fell into, the only native species to that area, most others can't survive the void, so Loki will read as Void Touched and is 'To Be Protected' because I think that could shake up the Avengers section nicely.) Oh and he has Howards DNA. So Arno is freaked that he has a brother, that someone released and sent to him and Arno is 100% sure he is not meant to deal with severe traumatised half-human assassins that could be his kid brother. That is how Arno meets Tony and becomes very invested and turns up big brother protective instinct to 13. When summoned they're tired to a person and has to obey orders, that person was chosen as The Asset under the idea he can't disobey, which obviously fails as Winter does everything to protect Tony, including freeing him and sending him to Arno. His last order is that Tony is not allowed to go looking for or rescue Winter, which I think will be some nice drama when Bucky gets brought in (I really like this one) It has mostly set up but 2 scenes for in the future, Tony finding Coulson threatening Arno in IM2 and the data dump. (21k) (in this S/S Helped is Yelped, I'd fix it, but I've been working on this post forreeever)

Blood and an Arc - This came about from reading the Tony is a vampire fic and noticing that when he gets turned, generally Tony hates being a vampire. There aren't many where he comes back from Afghanistan a vampire and goes, huh... Well. This could be interesting. Loosely based on Vamp the Masquerade but I've tweaked it because my brain takes ideas and then runs off madly into the sunset. It is however utterly all over the place, some from Ironman and then random out of sequence chapters that I'm unsure about as I hadn't slept in a very long time on writing them and Tony went kind of Spike-ish calling James 'Pet'. I do like the idea of Tony fully embracing his changes. Yinsen never intended Tony to live, so he did something extra whilst turning him, so he is not an ordinary baby vampire and is convinced (justifiably so) that if he meets any other vamps, they'll try to kill him. In notes have Sam considering being a werewolf who works out Tony is a vamp and freaks out, because Vampires vs Werewolves and Tony is utterly confused and tells Sam he smells of mint (seriously, insomnia) Sam is baffled to find out the centuries of hatred that is claimed to be instinctual is actually taught. Sam gets kind happy he has a Vamp friend. (20k)

The Original Plan - This sets up around the end of the Mandarin (because honestly, I prefer working with Tony that has powered, especially because James has the serum and I personally think it would expand life span more than shown in Endgame. So I like evening things out and powered Tony is my jam) Tony has a bunch of plans, and they go awry. He doesn't see why and has zero clue what's going on. It's because no matter how well he plans this out, he's caught up in other people's plans. Steve is a little more "End goal justify the anything and everything." In other words, getting Bucky back is his plan and everyone are just pawns in said plan. I've taken that tactical genius title and also pushed him a little darker. After Ultron, he brings Wanda on for 3 reasons. 1 Precedence. 2 Fixing Bucky. 3 Making sure Tony doesn't find out about his parents and making sure he is on the team and available to fix Bucky's arm. That last bit changes things as instead of pulling away from the Avengers, Tony fully moves into the compound(just after AOU, it's not good). There will be no accords and Steve will find Bucky and just move him in and general plans on telling no one about the Winter Soldier. I summed up a chunk of AOU in this format, and I liked it (in an angst and pain fashion.) But it's quite long for a screenshot, so here's a chunk. Bucky is being brought in soon, but as it is, Tony is not having a good time, there might be Wanda conditions in his mind that Steve can use to convince Tony to do things... Also, because he is living there, I couldn't justify Sam not noticing there is something very wrong, so he is asking questions he didn't in canon as Tony's PTSD is more in his face living together you know? (16k)

[goodshipsherlollipop]

Self-interview (but not really)

When I heard about @sherlollyappreciationweek hosting a self-interview event, I thought it would be fun to participate, so people could get to know me better as an author.  But, instead of doing a self-interview, I approached some of my readers and asked them to pose questions for me to answer.

I’m not aiming at making this about me personally.  It’s all about me as an author.  If you want to know about who I really am outside of my writing, feel free to chat with me privately.

The name of the person asking the questions will precede each section. As this interview is rather long, I will do it in two parts.

MossRose10

Q: What personal experiences or skills (in broad strokes), besides your faith, have influenced what you write about for your characters?

A: I know I see Molly differently than most people, in a more wholesome way.  When I look at her character on the show, she doesn't seem the type to have a long sexual history, but instead, seems to be someone who has devoted her life to becoming the best pathologist she can be.  I adore her character, and to be honest, I put a lot of my own traits into her - including her love of singing and faith.  My post TFP Sherlock has had his true nature restored by the events of Sherrinford.  Thus, he is emotionally stable and able to love Molly deeply. I can write him that way because I happen to have a romantic, loving husband (lucky me!). A lot of times in my married stories, I draw on experiences I've had that I have fictionalized for the characters.  I usually refer to these in author’s notes.  I also love writing about their children, and put a lot of thought and personal experience into writing for them from watching my own daughters grow.

As for the other characters, I just write them the way I feel reflects their personalities best from what I’ve observed in the show, working on fleshing out their characters more as I’ve continued 3 years worth of storyline beyond TFP. For example, my version of Mycroft has mellowed a lot and married Lady Smallwodd, and John has also become a Christian and is remarried with a son.

Q: What kinds of characters do you find most challenging to write, and what strategies do you use to write them?

A: I don’t think I necessarily have a lot of issues in writing the canon characters because I have watched the show so many times I feel I know them personally.  Probably the most challenging thing is writing for OC’s or peripheral characters I may have brought into a story that we haven't seen a lot of (like Billy Wiggins or Philip Anderson).  I must admit, I have written very little about Moriarty, because most of my stories take place after his death.

dmollyc

Q: What character is hardest to write?

A:  I kind of  addressed this one in the above answer, but I do think I'd find it difficult to write for Moriarty because I'm not sure how well I could get into the psyche of a deranged madman!

Q: Do you get any nasty reviews?

A: Thankfully, not many. Most of the negative ones are people reacting to a story out of context.  They will read a story in the middle of my chronological timeline and then complain that the characters are OOC.  When I write my continuing stories, I assume that people are familiar with the characters as I’ve written them already, so this can cause confusion.

Because of the Christian themes, I have lost readers who object to the theology I present through my characters. Obviously, I will not please everybody.

But generally speaking, people are very kind about my work when they review it, and I especially love the reviewers who immerse themselves into my world of Sherlock and Molly and embrace my post-TFP version of them.

Q: What do you like best about your stories?

A: Probably what I like best is that I've found a unique niche in the fandom in creating a whole Christian theme, and writing a lot of different stories with the same theme.  I've not seen anyone else doing that (although I'd love to see it done by others).

I enjoy writing my own continuing post-TFP happy ending for Sherlock and Molly, expanding their universe and that of the other characters from Sherlock as well.

Also, I enjoy showing Molly as someone with a belief in saving herself for marriage.  It's not going to be a popular idea for the general population, but I know many Christians can relate to that desire to keep sex for that special someone rather than experimenting with every boyfriend they date.  

I also think I do a pretty good job in writing love scenes that are steamy, but still clean, although I’m aware that some readers are more sensitive who find them too steamy.  I write using my own inner guide for how far to take things in the bedroom.  Some stories are definitely steamier than others, but there are certain graphic terms I will never use in my writing because I feel they cross the line of my own comfort zone.

Chelseamh98

Q: How have you overcome the challenges of your vision impairment?

A: This is definitely an ongoing process for me.  When I began writing, my proofreading would just consist of looking over the chapter a couple times to try to errors. I have issues when typing on my iPad because of the flat keyboard surface.  That means I often type a word incorrectly.  To help compensate for that, I have hundreds of words in my “text replacement” section, so that certain words I often mis-type automatically correct to the right word.  I have a bad tendency to hit the M instead of N or vice versa, for example.  A few months after I began publishing, someone suggested I use a text-to-speech app to help me identify incorrectly spelled words.  That did help.  I copy a chapter into the text-to-speech app and watch my chapter in a split screen as I listen to the words.  That has been a big help.  Then, this year, I discovered a free website called prowritingaid, which I now use as another editing tool, and it identifies even more spelling and grammar errors.  So now I find myself writing, proofreading as I go along several times as I write.  When the chapter is finished and I am ready to publish, I do another visual read.  Then I use the prowritingaid site as another editing step. After that, I use the text-to-speech app and listen as I read.  Finally, I copy the whole thing into Google Docs, add italics and bold type and glance through the chapter again to see if Google Docs has discovered any more errors.  It's a very long process, believe me, and it takes so much longer to do the editing and proofreading than to write! For me, the writing part is easy!

Q: Does it (visual impairment) affect the way you write?

A:  Physically, yes.  I cannot use a computer, because I need to be inches away from the screen to see what I am doing.  Sometimes I will sit at a table and write, but usually, I put three cushions on my lap and sit my iPad on top.  Over time, that method has caused me to have pretty severe tendonitis, but I have no other way to write, and it's worth the pain to keep writing! Currently, I am also dealing with frozen shoulder as part of the physical issues.

Also, I have to enlarge my text to write.  I use the Colored Note app for my chapters, set to the maximum size of 36, and when I go into Google Docs, I set the size to 25 so I can read it.

Q: What part about writing do you find the most challenging? What’s the easiest?

A:  As I mentioned above, the most difficult part is definitely the editing/proofreading process because I have to work so much harder than a normally sighted person, and it takes up a huge chunk of time.

Also, I am very particular in trying to write realistic fiction whenever possible.  That means a ton of research. For example, in my story where Molly was shot, Confronting Evil and the Truth, I researched a lot about gunshot wounds and how to care for them.  In A Honeymoon Journey, my characters went to Stratford-upon-Avon, and I researched that location thoroughly for many of the chapters.  In my latest COVID-19 series, I have followed the pandemic closely in the UK and have added many real situations that have happened there.  Research, research, research!

The easiest part is definitely writing the story itself, especially dialogue.  I can hear the characters in my head telling me what to write.  I rarely suffer from writer’s block, unless I am trying to think about how to write a mystery or crime and how to resolve it.

Aslan's Princess

Q: Where do you find inspiration? Is it something specific? Or multiple things?

A: I find inspiration mainly in two areas.  First, from watching episodes over and over and analyzing them. Second, I also find inspiration in my own life, in bringing in real experiences I am familiar with (such as pregnancy and childbirth).  Occasionally I will read a story or a review where someone tells me something that sparks my imagination. My current WIP, The Good Book, was actually inspired by a gif-set one of my readers, Penelope Chestnut showed me.  It got me wondering what would happen if Sherlock suddenly discovered the Bible (shown in TBB) in his bookcase and decided he wanted some answers about the meaning of life.

Justwritebritt

Q: What drives you to keep writing?

A: Certainly, one of the most motivating factors is hearing from readers who enjoy my work.  Readers generally have no clue what kind of power they possess when it comes to encouraging a writer to keep going.  A pat on the back is always a good thing. I wish more people could understand that.

Aside from that, though, I feel a calling from God to keep writing. I like sharing my faith through Molly (and Sherlock). My hope is that people will find my stories inspiring and encouraging.

Q: What/Who can you absolutely not write without?

A:  I cannot write without my iPad.  I use it not only to write, but to research and to watch Sherlock on Netflix.  it's my all-in-one resource!

Q: What is your favorite story you've published so far?

A: I will always love A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage, because it is the “mothership” from which all my other stories spring, but my writing technique was not great at the beginning; there’s an obvious improvement in later chapters.  But, I am also very fond of Sherlock’s Dream of What Might Have Been.  That one tells a story of Sherlock and Molly meeting in uni, and then jumps to the canon, inserting a secret relationship (and child) throughout the series canon. I put a lot of thought into filling in Season 4 backstory as well.

Q: What (in vague terms) story are you looking forward to telling next?

A: I have a few stories in the pipeline that I am looking forward to sharing.  One that steps away from the overt Christian themes is a Pretty Woman AU.  I haven't seen anyone attempt an AU for that movie, and I look forward to sharing it.  Perhaps it will spark interest with a few more readers because it isn't heavily weighted on the Christian theme scale, but is merely one of my more whimsical, creative story ideas. It is the first story I have written that combines elements from both a movie and the Sherlock narrative.

I also have a couple of one-shots that I will publish in the timeline of my WIP Journey to a New Home, one,that deals with the topic of divorce using a Biblical perspective, plus one that sheds light on the subject of depression.

End of Padt 1.

[tanadrin]

I’m reading One Long Night, because the interview with Andrea Pitzer on Chris Hayes’ podcast was so interesting; and the book does not disappoint, though the subject matter is in equal measures depressing and infuriating. I want to talk about it at length when I’m through with it, but I was particularly struck today by her discussion of the Soviet gulags and how concentration camps arose in Germany, and how they marked a transition away from how concentration camps had been used before then.

The background is this: the concentration camp as we know it is only a little more than a century old. The individual kinds of violence that all inform the modern concentration camp have plenty of predecessors, some as old as time: internal deportations, native reservations, forced expulsions, detention without trial. But prior to the modern era, the characteristic feature of a concentration camp--the long-term detention of large numbers of civilians not convicted of any crime--would have been prohibitively expensive in manpower and effort. Two major technological innovations altered that calculus, Pitzer argues: the automatic gun and barbed wire. Those two devices permit a small number of guards to contain a much larger number of people; all that was needed was the will to do so.

The concentration camp as we know it was invented during Cuba’s struggle for independence; the advantages enjoyed by the rebels meant that Spain struggled to clear them out of the countryside, and the general in charge of Cuba, Arsenio Martinez Campos, noted that the only way to win the war would be to relocate basically the entire rural population of the island to Spanish-held towns to cut off the rebels’ base of support and prevent them from hiding among the rest of the population. And this he refused to do, considering it unthinkable under the rules of warfare. So Spain replaced him, and his successor, Valeriano Weyler, was all too happy to attempt what Campos would not. The resulting atrocities--including starvation and the spread of disease--were one of the things that spurred the American public to support war with Spain shortly thereafter, and while the Maine provided the immediate casus belli, Spanish conduct in Cuba was, in the public’s eyes, just as important a reason for going to war.

What is so bitterly comedic about that justification, though, is that after the war, when the U.S. found itself in possession of former Spanish colonies like Cuba and the Philippines, it found itself struggling against the very same rebels that Spain had failed to suppress; in the Philippines, the military immediately adopted tactics almost identical to the ones the Spanish had used in Cuba; and when during the Boer War in South Africa, the British likewise rounded up both Boer and black civilians in the Boer republics, it could cite the U.S.’s use of concentration camps as a justification for its own. And so on--each subsequent generation of internment drew on the precedent its predecessors had established, and if you wanted to object to (say) the policy of Germany interning all the British in the country at the start of World War I, you had to contend with the fact that they were doing nothing the British hadn’t done a few years before. (Indeed, it was the British internment of enemy aliens specifically that set off reciprocal treatment all over Europe; Pitzer relates the account of one Israel Cohen, a British man, being arrested in Germany and interned at Ruhleben, who, when the police came for him, was told ‘You have only your own Government to thank for this.’)

In fact, World War I is very important--internment of enemy civilians established not only a general precedent in favor of concentration camps in the eyes of the public, but it created the expectation that if you went into a concentration camp, you would come out again. The conditions in these camps were not good by any stretch of the imagination, but they were not as awful as the camps of Cuba, the Philippines, or South Africa, where famine and disease killed thousands. Concentration camps became decoupled from actual battlefield strategy, arising not “out of the local chaos of warfare, but instead represent[ing] a deliberate choice to inject the framework of war into society itself.’ (p. 103)

To this grim precedent, the Soviets added another innovation: the gulag was the first time concentration camps were used in peacetime particularly, and they were integrated into the Soviet state apparatus as a normal part of its justice system. And more than just the semi-punitive labor that, say, German POWs had been forced to perform during the war (and after--Germany had to release the POWs it held when WWI ended, but thousands of Germans continued to be detained long after the war), the Soviets hoped to make gulags profitable to their economy on net. Whatever their original justification, it quickly becomes clear as the labor camp is institutionalized in Soviet society that much of the behavior of the Soviet state around forced labor is shaped by the age-old impulse of conquerers to use conquered peoples to enrich themselves. After Poland was divided with Germany, thousands of Poles were shipped to the gulags and forced to work. And not only was the USSR thus inheriting the system of forced labor that Tsarist Russia had used, it was making it significantly crueler.

The premise of using labor to reeducate problematic citizens to be part of a bright Soviet future gave way to the idea that detainees themselves represented raw materials to be consumed in building that future.

In reality, Frenkel [an administrator at the Solovki camp] did not invent the tiered ration system from scratch. Likewise, the shift from idealized rehabilitation to a more permanent system maximizing forced labor may have been inevitable. Stalin appeared impressed with the possibilities of detainee labor and believed in the profitability of the Solovki endeavor (despite the fact, as Anne Applebaum has noted, that Solovki required a subsidy of 1.6 million rubles--perhaps due to graft). (p. 132)

Under the tsars in previous centuries, Polish insurgents resisting Russian rule or political prisoners convicted for offenses against the tsar were shipped off to remote Siberian katorga, working in mining or logging. Their penal labor had often been brutal, but it had come after conviction in an actual trial. Compared to penal labor under the tsars, Gulag workdays were longer and the rations shorter. A daily quota for earth mined by a single Decembrist prisoner at Nerchinsk under Tsar Nicholas I was 118 pounds; in the Soviet era, the same lone prisoner might be expected to excavate 28,800 pounds. And while tsarist courts had long sentenced political prisoners to labor camps, the Gulag was orders of magnitude larger from its very beginning. The Soviet Union had grafted the worst of Russian penal history onto the extrajudicial detention of internment, creating a vast malignant enterprise. And it would continue to grow. (p.133-34)

The scale of the gulags declines after Stalin’s death, but it never quite disappears.

Neither self-sustaining nor productive in the long run, the system required tremendous resources, and the economic burden of the camps had weighed heavily on the Soviet Union in wartime.

Still, as historian Steven Barnes has pointed out, ‘The Soviet leadership never entertained the notion of dismantling the system.’ The USSR had always had a camp system; its tendrils had grown into agriculture and industry, as well as becoming a key facet of government interactions with citizens. The Gulag was intrinsic to the state itself. (p.155)

And then there’s this passage, about the camp at Solovki, which was almost painful to read:

Prisoners heard from the radio station that [Maxim] Gorky was coming. Detainees could hardly wait for him to tell the world what was happening on Solovki: ‘Gorki will spot everything, find out everything. ... About the logging and the torture on the tree stumps, the sekirka [punishment cells], the hunger, the disease... the sentences without conviction.... The whole lot!’

Before Gorky’s visit, contingents of prisoners were hidden in the forest to lessen evidence of overcrowding. Sick patients were given new gowns to wear ... . Gorky visited the sick bay, a labor camp, and stopped in at the children’s colony that had been formed since Likhachev first encountered the urchins hiding under his bunk.

Gorky asked to speak to one boy privately and stayed with him a long time. Standing outside with the rest of the crowd, Likhachev counted forty minutes on the watch his father had given him. He recounts that Gorky emerged weeping and climbed the stairway to the punishment cell at Sekirka.

Yet when Gorky’s anxiously awaited piece on the trip came out, the section about Solovki was relegated to Part Five of the report, with the devastating conclusion that ‘camps such as “Solovki” were absolutely necessary. ... Only by this road would the state achieve in the fastest possible time one of its aims: to get rid of prisons.’

The German system, of course, did not start out as a program of genocide. It did not even necessarily start out as a program of forced labor (i.e., slavery) like in Russia. Its immediate predecessors, in fact, might be said to be the concentration camps established before the Nazis even came to power to keep Roma away from cities like Frankfurt (cf. p. 183); the Roma were subject to registry before any racial laws about Jews were passed, before the Nazis ever took power, and they were swept up along with the homeless during the Olympics to keep them out of sight of the international press (p. 187). But as the classes of political prisoners and other undesirables swelled, so did the concentration camp system.

Once war broke out, of course, the temptation to use prisoners for war industry was not resisted.

By late 1941, the camps had grown dense and squalid from the flood of detainees arriving from abroad, yet the war placed still more demands on the camps. ... a complex network of labor projects emerged, spread across thousands of sites. Every camp and subcamp used prisoner labor in some fashion. Prisoners working for the I.G. Farben rubber plant lived in a dedicated compound at Auschwitz. Fur linings in the coats of the SS came from hutches of rabbits under the administration of prisoners at Dachau. At Neuengamme, detainees were set to work clearing rubble from the bombed roads and buildings outside Hamburg. ... Both Nazis and Soviets went to war on the backs of their concentration camp prisoners. Forced-labor Gulag efficiency expert Naftaly Frenkel had suggested the system be optimized to get the most out of prisoners in their first three months, after which they were disposable. He would have been ideally placed to appreciate that before the end of the war, average life expectancy at Neuengamme concentration camp had dropped to twelve weeks. (p. 200-201)

What is perhaps the most bitter flourish on the German concentration camp system is that there was a very real possibility it could have been entirely avoided. Pitzer argues that even after the death of Hindenberg and Hitler’s adoption of the title Fuehrer, there was a very real possibility that the Nazi regime might have proceeded along (still cruel, still inhumane, still racist) legalistic lines, keeping continuity with German law, rather than relying on extrajudicial terror. Himmler’s desire to strengthen his position within the government and the purge of Rohm and the SA led to him expanding the concentration camp system further; and this was what ensured that, when the systematic, wholesale extermination of the Jews was decided upon, there was a preexisting infrastructure in place to facilitate it. (see p. 178-179) In the early years, local prosecutors actively sought to arrest and try sadistic guards, and the notion that the concentration camps were sites of abuse or torture was hotly contested.

In his first months as commandant at Dachau, Theodor Eicke flew into a rage, haranguing prisoners about the vicious rumors in the community about conditions there. Reminding them that detainees had already been killed for spreading word about the camp--including Dr. Katz, who had helped so many prisoners--Eicke threatened that more could be executed at any point. He seemed especially offended by any suggested comparison to Soviet tactics. ‘There are no atrocities and there is no Cheka cellar in Dachau!’ he insisted. ‘Anybody whipped deserves to be whipped.’

Even the Nazis, one supposes, would balk at being compared to the Nazis.

Special mention goes to two people in this section of the book: Margarete Buber-Neumann, a German communist who fled to Russia and, who along with her husband, was arrested and thrown into the gulag. She survived; her husband did not--but survived only to be handed over to the Nazis after the invasion of Poland, as part of a prisoner exchange, whereupon she was shipped to a Nazi concentration camp. She survived the war, at least, and seven years total of internment; she lived until 1989.

Hans Beimler was a Communist elected three times to the Reichstag, the last in May of 1933. He was arrested in April and imprisoned in Dachau, where he was repeatedly beaten and humiliated and encouraged to kill himself. Nighttime beatings and the murder of his cellmates (some of whom were friends of his) made him resolve to escape, since he figured it would be better to be shot trying to break out than to be murdered and have it staged to look like a suicide.

[A] friend who was a prisoner outside the bunker managed to slip him a tool to unscrew the grate over his window and tin snips to help manage the barbed wire. Later reports claimed he strangled a storm trooper and took his clothing, but Beimler simply crawled out of his high window, taking a board with him. He navigated three layers of barbed wire--the middle one electrified--using the wood for insulation, and climbed onto the six-foot wall surrounding the camp’s exterior. Waiting there a moment to make sure he had not been seen, he jumped down the other side and made his way to Munich.

The next morning, Steinbrenner arrived to find an empty cell. Frantic searches were made, prisoners were interrogated. For some time, guardhouse staff remained certain Beimler was hiding somewhere on the grounds. Dogs were used to search, and a hundred-mark reward was posted in the local paper Amper-Bote. But Beimler remained in hiding until he could safely get to Berlin and cross the border to the east.

Once out of the country, he mailed a postcard to Dachau telling the camp commanders to kiss his ass. Some three months after his escape, he was sitting in Moscow writing a searing indictment of Nazi atrocities. It was printed in three languages and circled the globe. (p. 173-174)

It’s important to observe that no system of mass detention ever sets out with the cruelty that (sooner or later) inevitably manifests in mind. From reconcentracion in Cuba to the Nazi crimes, there is never a single point of no return for the countries involved, nor a single moment of moral clarity where the architects of these policies are forced to confront what they are creating. It is always possible for those responsible to hide behind precedent, behind political rhetoric, behind expedient to justify to the rest of the world as to why their camps are not only right but necessary, to argue away any evidence for the gravity of these sins as ‘a few bad apples’ or ‘an unfortunate excess.’

And the corollary to this is that you will never get one moment you can point to and say to the people around you, “Look! There it is! That’s the moral event horizon, and they just crossed it. You can’t possibly support them now.” Because there will always be a way for people to rationalize their support of such policies. I suspect the only antidote, individual or collective, is an ironclad moral will that rejects the dehumanization of others outright--and to fight like hell to shut such evils down when they first begin to appear.

This all has obvious relevance to the present political moment--that’s why Pitzer was on Hayes’ podcast, that’s why I wanted to read this book to begin with. I don’t think that, outside genuine, self-described neo-Nazis, even in the darkest imagination of the most reflexively prejudiced Trump supporter, the desire for Soviet or Nazi-style gulags exists, I really don’t. But things can always get worse. The cruelties build on themselves incrementially--and the only way to prevent that, to actually make sure that kind of thing can’t happen here (or anything like it--there is, after all, plenty of evil that is not outright genocide) is to refuse to permit the creation of the institutions that are its necessary predecessors.

[jonathandurke]

Another New Year, Still the Same God

Last New Year I wrote a blog called New Year, Same God. In it I encouraged us to remember to cast all our blessings and all our curses onto the Lord. I highlighted the reality that no matter what comes in a year, whether that be sorrow or success, our Father in Heaven remains the same.

I think it is worth repeating this truth afresh as we enter 2021.

So, with a similar title and a similar theme as January 2020’s blog, I start January 2021’s blog by saying we still have the same faithful God.

We received another inspiring preach from Gordon last Sunday, and preceding it a stirring time of worship with Colin and Claire. For me there was a clear sense of God’s unfailing faithfulness. From Gordon’s reminder that God is faithful with His love for us, to Colin and Claire’s melodic statements of the Father’s faithful love surpassing that of mountains and oceans in its breadth and depth. There seems to be a ringing reminder from the Spirit to not forget just how faithful the Lord is – in the highs and the lows (cough! – 2020 – cough!).

The theme of God’s faithfulness has also been resonating with me anew as I’ve begun my bible reading plan. Following bible reading plans is not usually my thing – in fact this year will be the first time I’ve done it! I am glad I made the choice though because it is already blessing me. As I read through the sections they select from the New and Old Testaments I am thoroughly enjoying, in particular, the early Genesis accounts. God’s faithfulness is so clearly demonstrated and evident so often in those initial revelations to our forefathers. Whether it was faithfulness to fulfil the promises of land, descendants, or protection, God was trustworthy and reliable to make good on His word.

Genesis is rich with accounts of many difficult circumstances the Patriarchs (Adam, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, etc.) had to endure. Natural disasters, famines, wars, enslavement, danger to life, riots, and many more. Not too dissimilar from our own experiences to a certain degree. Yet, in the midst of it all God was working His sovereign providential purposes out with love and grace towards those who placed their faith in Him. The Patriarchs never saw the fully realised promises the Lord had made with them. They caught glimpses of them, but never completely received them. They lived with hope in the God of hope.

God is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.

He still remains faithful, working out His sovereign providential purposes with love and grace in this world, especially to those that are in Christ.

I was speaking to several colleagues recently (while eating pizza from Dominoes!) and we were talking about how history classes in schools will teach on this little cluster of years, where relatively monumental events have taken place. We wondered what exam papers will ask about Brexit, Donald Trump being president, a global plague, the major shift in racial issues, the explosion of gender ideology, to name a few. One thing that will not be asked is if God was faithful. That is a question for me and you to answer.

Has the Father been faithful to you this last year and will He be faithful to you this year?

A spite of what has been overly-described as an unprecedented time in our generation this past year, and even going into this new year, reflect on all that the Lord has given you, done for you, protected you from, blessed you with, taken away from you for you good, restored back to you; meditate on all He weaved into your life. Do that and I guarantee you, if you honestly look, you will see that God is faithful.                  

The Father is doing a mighty work in those who call on His name. He will not stop until it is accomplished in us. He who began a good work in us will bring it to completion. He will never leave nor forsake His plan for us. He will build upon us and develop us into His destiny for us individually and collectively as the Church.

We are witnessing the birth pains of our nation’s independence and the possible difficulties that may ensue as we find our feet. We have suffered with other nations worldwide the deadly effects of a pandemic that has ripped loved ones from us in death or with distance. We have observed the true colours of racial prejudice. We have seen the damaging extremities of sexual politics. Perhaps most devastating for us disciples has been the inability to gather together for corporate worship and enjoy the Father’s presence united. We have felt much this past year. We may be weak, frustrated, confused - now more than ever even – but still God is good, gracious and gloriously faithful.  

We have come through a lot in 2020, and we still have much to go through if the start of 2021 is anything to go by.

But,

Whatever happens this year, it is always the same as every other year – the Lord will be faithful to you. The reconciliation of all things will happen. The restoration of the Kingdom and its coming will happen. The Lord Jesus will return. Our resurrection is certain. The Church will be victorious. Satan will be defeated. Hell will not prevail. Evil will end. Sin will cease. God will get the glory, and we will enjoy Him forever.

Like the Patriarchs before us, maybe we will not see all of this take place in our lifetime. Perhaps we will not see the fully realised promises we are believing God to be faithful for (personally or as part of the big story of salvation). However, like the Patriarchs let us place our hope in the God of hope, and the God of Hope Church – because He. Is. Faithful.

Happy New Year!  

[zdbztumble]

Build A Better Buu Saga

Oh, the Buu Saga...from initially getting passed over in Kai to almost getting passed over by TeamFourStar, it’s almost as if the collective understanding of all corners of the Dragon Ball community is that this is a saga that just...didn’t. It didn’t give a proper cap to the overall series, it didn’t stick the landing even on its own terms, it didn’t have the best fights or villains or character moments...it just didn’t.

For myself, the Buu Saga actually has my favorite beginning of any storyline in Dragon Ball. Gohan being my favorite character in the series, I was happy to see him take up the mantle of Series Lead (a fact that the manga pointed out in asides multiple times), and the huge shake-up in the status quo made for some exciting possibilities. Videl and Goten were wonderful additions to the cast, the current timeline’s Trunks was quite the contrast with his future self, I think the Great Saiyaman was amusing, and the lead-up to the World Tournament is some of the best material out of the entire series. The middle section of the saga, while uneven, is a fun and wild ride too, with Majin Buu being a very distinct villain from his immediate predecessors and concepts like the fusion dance giving a jolt of new energy (no pun intended) to battles. Gohan’s development as he tries to regain the power he’s lost since the Cell Games during this part of the story doesn’t get enough credit either.

Yep - the Buu Saga, in my books anyway, is a solid arc full of fantastic characters and moments...in its first two thirds. The moment Super Buu becomes Buutenks, the story rapidly deteriorates, as Akira Toriyama decides to arbitrarily reject or ignore every bit of set-up and development he’d laid down up to that point and goes on auto-pilot, ending the conflict with tired retreads of old ideas while using characters whose story this has not been. It’s not even that anything in the ending of the saga is all that bad; it’s just such an about-face, such a divorce from everything in the story up to that point - material that I really liked - that it feels more disappointing (to me, anyway) than if it had been more poorly produced.

I’m not the first, or the last, to think about how the Buu Saga might have had a stronger ending, and more coherence overall. Over on the Kanzenshuu forums a few years ago, I even wrote up some my thoughts on what I would’ve liked to see. Thanks to TeamFourStar’s release of their “Day of Fate” remix, though, I’ve been thinking about this more lately, and my ideas have changed quite a bit from the last time I wrote them down. With that, I figured I’d lay out my outline for an alternate Buu Saga, one that I think would’ve given the series a stronger cap and paid off its initial set-up.

Before we get started, I’ll make three caveats plain:

- Goku isn’t here. This isn’t out of any dislike of the character. I'm actually quite happy with Goku serving as a supporting figure, and a mentor to Goten and Trunks, in the middle third of the Buu Saga. But I think it’s ultimately detrimental to a story that purportedly follows the successor protagonist to have the original hero pop up as early, and for as long, as Goku ultimately was in the saga as-is. To see what Gohan and the others would make of a world totally devoid of Goku is a more interesting idea to me anyway.

- No Old Kai. He may be fun, he may have unique abilities, but Old Kai and his powers offer too many cop-outs. Which is not to say that there isn’t a place for a mentor figure like Old Kai in the saga, but...well, keep reading.

- I don’t care about post-manga interviews. Yes, I am aware that Toriyama retconned Buu’s origin, among other things, in interviews he gave after finishing the manga. I am ignoring these, and I’m ignoring anything from Super. What was in the manga, and the anime, back in the 90s is all the material I’m drawing from.

- You know the story, right? For brevity’s sake, I’m just going to point out where I would’ve made changes, not writing up the full series of events. I assume anyone crazy enough to read this knows at least the gist of the Buu Saga anyway.

All that said - here we go:

There isn’t much I’d change about the very beginning of the Buu saga. Gohan’s high school days and Great Saiyaman antics are both a great change of pace from the heavier material preceding them. If I were to change anything, it would be to have the manga expand on this section slightly - no more than the anime did, but just that little bit extra to mine the concept for all it’s worth.

Assuming that expansion happens, then the impression can be given that a significant number of months pass - let’s say an academic year. Thus, when Videl learns the truth about the Great Saiyaman and blackmails Gohan into competing in the World Tournament, they’re right at the start of summer vacation, with the tournament set to begin at the end of summer. This provides three months of training, not one.

Removing Goku from the story doesn’t require as big an adjustment to Vegeta’s character as you’d think on first glance. Remember that in the saga as-is, Bulma tells Gohan early on that Vegeta wants to make Trunks stronger than him, Vegeta chides Gohan for not training during peacetime, and when news of the tournament reaches him, Vegeta’s keen to enter to fight Gohan, before he knows that Goku’s coming back. Just push all this a little further, and you get a Vegeta who’s transferred his great rivalry with “Kakarot” onto Gohan - whose lack of interest in combat for its own sake or in feeding that rivalry really gets under Vegeta’s skin. The tournament, in Vegeta’s mind, is his first chance in seven years to compel Gohan to duke it out.

The extra months for training gives real opportunity for Videl. In the series as-is, her ability to learn to fly in a day is considered remarkable, and she expresses an interest in learning more about ki. With more time, she actually could. It’s straining credulity to expect her to be at Krillin or Tenshinhan levels by the time of the Tournament, but she could at least pick up the Kamehameha. As I would like her to stay action-relevant once the real conflict emerges, however, I’d go ahead and give her some unique ability too, to off-set her limited raw power. Perhaps something akin to re-directing lightning in Avatar - she could figure out how to channel and re-direct ki attacks aimed at her. I don’t think that’s too ridiculous - again, the series as-is has her figure out the basics of ki control and flight in a single afternoon, so using that as a springboard for her demonstrating unusual ki manipulation is a fair expansion on that IMO.

Videl’s curiosity about ki (and the cute dork she’s learning from) could also lead to her learning about the dragon balls during her training. This could amount to a brief, lighthearted ball hunt that doubles as as a more active training regimen, with Goten and Trunks coming along as well. It would be the four members of the new generation off on a fun-filled adventure, like the opening of this saga seemed to promise. Gohan and Videl’s bond is strengthened, Goten and Trunks’s friendship is shown off, and the dragon balls are conveniently collected and ready for use later on. And this would also be the way that news of the World Tournament spreads to the other Z Fighters - assume that each of them holds onto one of the dragon balls as a safety measure. A tad more time could be spent at Kame House and the Lookout, and through the eyes of Videl - the new human character and a great candidate for a reader/audience stand-in - we could be introduced to the new status quo for all the old cast in a (slightly) expanded way.

The World Tournament would play out largely the same, with the odd minor to adjustments due to Goku’s absence. The senzu beans would get delivered via Mr. Popo and his carpet, for example. Probably the most significant change I would’ve made would be to have Gohan’s anger at Videl’s pain cause a flash of power that, while brief, tells Vegeta that Gohan’s potential remains as boundless as ever even despite his lack of training, feeding into Vegeta’s frustrations with Gohan.

Without Goku, Yakon would be cut from the line-up of Babidi’s warriors; we’d go from Pui Pui to Dabura. Vegeta’s anger at Gohan’s sloppiness would remain, though he’d be shouting at Gohan directly, instead of at Goku about Gohan. In this case, Vegeta gives in to Babidi not to acquire sufficient power to defeat Goku in a limited time frame, but because all the preparation for the World Tournament, Gohan’s “unworthiness” as a surrogate rival for his father, and disgust that someone uninterested in fighting has the potential that Gohan has, all fuel Vegeta’s midlife crisis about finding himself settled on Earth. Basically, the ticking clock of Goku’s 24 hours is replaced with a slow burn of identity conflict and irritation.

Of course, this means that instead of a Goku/Vegeta rematch, we’d have Gohan vs. Vegeta. I would leave the immediate set-up for it largely untouched in the broadstroke, but of course the details would matter. I can’t imagine Gohan feeling so determined to fight that he’d be prepared to blow Supreme Kai’s face off, for example. I would have him ask to be brought back into the ship, to give Supreme Kai a better chance at getting at Buu’s pod. It would also give a backdrop for the fight other than Generic Wasteland #47. The fight itself would naturally have a different character. I imagine Vegeta being more unstable and manic while Gohan remains evasive, trying at all times to minimize the energy released. As in the series as-is, Vegeta’s words spur Gohan to realize the price to be paid for not staying prepared for danger in the seven years since the Cell Games, but in this case, Gohan’s evasiveness keeps shooting Vegeta’s anger and irrationality higher and higher, and it’s through this process that his motives come out. At a moment when Gohan’s pleas to look at the big picture fall on deaf ears, Vegeta calls Gohan “Kakarot.” Hearing that name, and fully appreciating how much Vegeta has projected his old rivalry, Gohan snaps for a second, gets the drop on Vegeta, knocks him out, and heads deeper into the ship to help Supreme Kai.

From there, things would largely play out as they do as-is, with minor adjustments. Vegeta would come to inside the ship, get a sense of what’s going on up above through ki detection, and have a quiet moment of realization of what he’s done before he heads up to try and make amends. And when he sacrifices himself...that’s it. That is the end of Vegeta’s character. This is a point I feel strongly about, because nothing that’s been done with Vegeta since justifies undercutting his sacrifice here IMO. To fully appreciate what he’s done, to recognize the one tactic he has left to try and set things to rights, and to be aware (thanks to Piccolo) just how total the price to be paid will be, and still go through with it for the sake of his loved ones, is as fitting an end to Vegeta’s character as I can think of.

Instead of Bulma summoning Shenron, she collects the balls from Chi Chi’s house with the intent of summoning Shenron, until someone in that group - possibly Yamcha, possibly Videl, possibly even Master Roshi - perceive that they might be needed for an even greater emergency, and the decision is made to retreat to the Lookout to try and get news of what’s been going on. They bring the balls with them, sparing the need for the radar incident later on. Piccolo and Krillin are tasked with filling everyone in.

Without Goku, how is the Fusion Dance brought up? Well, Namekians practice a form of fusion (more like assimilation), and Piccolo has (in the anime, at least) demonstrated knowledge of Multi-Form; what if it’s a technique he and Dende have devised in the seven years since the Cell Games, making use of natural Namekian abilities and Earthling ki manipulation techniques? “But wait!” you say. “What about Piccolo’s embarrassed reaction to the dance in the series as-is?” Simple - don’t have him be embarrassed. I never found that “gag” to be all that funny anyway - it’s not like the dance looks that ridiculous. To whet Buu’s appetite for the fight the way Goku did, Piccolo could just communicate the promise of a fighter telepathically.

So, we still have the Z Sword, but no Old Kai. What to do about Gohan’s power then? Well - what if the Z Sword was sentient? Similar to the Byakko from Dairanger, it can talk once drawn. I imagine it having a cantankerous and impatient personality, but in addition to being heavy enough to serve as a training tool, it can also bond and manipulate Gohan’s ki, letting it serve as a power-up device and a mentor. Part of that mentorship involves helping Gohan through his hang-up at not keeping his strength from the Cell Games. As Old Kai does as-is, the Z Sword could feel that the strain of transformations isn’t worth the power boost, and could also conclude that relying on saiyan rage and battle lust isn’t the best course for Gohan. So as they train, the Z Sword works to rearrange Gohan’s ki to bring all his power into his base form - so yes, there still is an Ultimate/Mystic power-up.

The Z Sword could also suggest a strategy for defeating Buu, and here’s where it becomes necessary to ignore Toriyama’s later statements. To go just off of the original manga, Bibidi created Buu. So if Buu is a magical creation, a force of chaotic evil energy - roll with that. Don’t treat him as a flesh and blood creature who can be killed. Treat him as negative ki manifested, that can be manipulated and dispersed. Videl’s ability helps Gohan grasp the concept, but it’s the Z Sword that will be key to him being able to pull the same manipulation on Buu.

The process of Gohan’s training would involve taking a look inside his own head. Imagine scenes where, while Gohan’s body performs fencing maneuvers, his inner self communes with the Z Sword and reviews and experiences these concepts in visually interesting ways. Besides being more dynamic than sitting on the ground while an old man holds his hands out, this could also sell the idea that this process would take a while.

Things on Earth would play out largely the same once Goten and Trunks are taught the dance. My one change would be to have Videl unaccounted for along with Dende during Buu’s candy attack.

Nothing against Goku, but when Gohan returns to Earth, I’d have him keep the Kai get-up; I really like that costume on him. Gohan’s demeanor would be more cold and silent in fighting Buu than brash, and instead of just treating Buu like a punching bag, he’s focused on catching Buu’s attacks with the Z Sword and turning the blade on Buu. When he does this, the wounds don’t regenerate. Buu finds this horrifying, and it’s this realization that triggers his self-destruct feint.

Videl’s with Dende. They got away together. Why? I’ll tell you why: I like Videl. But there is actually a reason, that we’ll get to in a second.

Buu absorbing Gotenks and Piccolo is less to do with getting stronger than Gohan (though there is that); it’s on the calculation that, if Buu absorbs people that Gohan loves into his being, then Gohan can’t channel ki to disperse Buu. Remember, that isn’t the same as being killed, so who’s to say the dragon balls could revive them? Gohan essentially has no choice but to get into a conventional fight with Buu - a much more even fight, but one he knows is ultimately fruitless. To make things worse, the grouchy, insensitive Z Sword keeps insisting that they finish Buutenks off anyway, and Buutenks keeps targeting Dende and Videl. That’s partly a distraction tactic, but he’s also looking to neutralize the dragon balls. Dende is protected in part by Gohan’s efforts, and in part by Videl’s redirection abilities. This would also open up comic moments, with Mr. Satan gaping in shock at his daughter’s skills. But a hard limit on those abilities becomes quickly apparent, when dealing with that much raw power at her level starts to destroy her body. Eventually, it proves too much, and saving Dende causes Videl to pass out - and in the second that Gohan is distracted by that, Buutenks seizes the Z Sword and breaks it.

The heroes look screwed now, but when the fusion runs out, Buu starts to react strangely, as if he’s getting beat up from the inside. Cut to inside of his body and, sure enough, the fusion running out has caused Goten and Trunks to be freed from Buu’s control. They wreak havoc inside of Buu in an attempt to find away out, and end up finding Piccolo and Fat Buu. Severing Fat Buu sets off the chain reaction leading to Kid Buu, and the kids make it out with Piccolo just in time.

Kibito teleporting in is how the heroes get off of Earth once Kid Buu decides to blow it up. And he actually saves everyone. Without Goku there, that bit of faux drama and guilt is even less justifiable, so don’t bother with it. The entire planet being lost is enough of a gut-punch to the heroes as it is.

As Kid Buu rampages through the universe, Kibito restores Videl and Piccolo. As bleak as things look, a conversation happens that triggers memories of Namek, and Gohan and Piccolo quickly devise a plan. They ask Kibito to bring King Kai to the Sacred World of the Kais, to facilitate communication, then send him to Namek. Those dragon balls (which cannot suddenly revive as many people as you want and still grant three wishes) are gathered. Gohan wants Porunga to restore the Z Sword, but that is a feat beyond the dragon’s power. Instead, he restores the Earth (and other destroyed planets) and, with the second wish, assembles Earth’s dragon balls at the Lookout. Kibito returns to the heavenly realm, takes Dende back to the Lookout, and Shenron is used to revive everyone (who Shenron can still revive) killed by Buu. Shenron also can’t mend the Z Sword, but Gohan and Piccolo expect that Babidi was revived with the first wish. They have Kibito track Babidi down and bring him to them. Both dragons are kept on stand-by.

Gohan wants Babidi to cast a spell to get rid of Kid Buu - not seal him up again, but to decreate him entirely. Unfortunately, Babidi doesn’t know any such spells - if they ever existed, they went to the grave with his father Bibidi (again - forget the later interview retcons. All we’re told originally is that Babidi was Bibidi’s son.) What Babidi can do, however, is reforge the Z Sword with his magic. Not unlike Buu’s awakening, it’s a spell that requires a tremendous amount of energy be released, and meanwhile, Kid Buu is laying waste to worlds. To gather the energy, and to keep Kid Buu from destroying anything else, Gohan, Goten, and Trunks all power up to lure him to the World of the Kais. While Piccolo stands guard over Babidi and the others watch, Gohan and Gotenks keep Kid Buu occupied. The effort doesn’t go as smoothly as Gohan and Piccolo had hoped - partly because Kid Buu is so violent and unpredictable, and partly because Gotenks gets carried away yet again, resulting in far more damage to the planet than necessary.

At a certain point, Videl has to re-direct a blast, and Mr. Satan yells at Kid Buu for endangering his daughter. Kid Buu targets them both, but can’t bring himself to attack, and expels Fat Buu. Just in time, too - Gotenks’ carelessness gets Gohan seriously injured, and the fusion wears off. Goten (and, after some hesitation, Trunks) continue to fight on with Fat Buu while Dende tries to heal Gohan. Babidi, meanwhile, has one last bit of treachery up his sleeve. He tries to take control of Gohan in a moment of anger. A lot happens all at once - a fierce blow by Kid Buu that puts Fat Buu down for the count, Gohan reacts to Babidi’s efforts, Piccolo slays Babidi - and the Z Sword re-forges. Kid Buu, recognizing the re-forged blade, panics, but Goten and Trunks keep him distracted, and Gohan is able to disperse Buu’s energy, finally ridding the universe of him for good.

Everyone returns to the Lookout, where unfinished business remains. Vegeta, Krillin, Roshi, and Chaotzu (and technically, all the people who were killed by Cell) are still dead, and for Krillin and Chaotzu, there's bad news: no dragon can ever grant the same wish twice, so even with Porunga around, they're still dead. Roshi sends word through Baba that he's ready to move on; Vegeta’s spirit has already met its final judgment. So, with the last Shenron wish, the memory of Buu is taken from the world; with the last Porunga wish, someone gets something stupid (Goten gets an ice cream sundae? Something comedic.)

Gohan has a conversation with Piccolo that basically summarizes his journey through the arc: that even if he doesn’t like fighting for its own sake, power like his carries a responsibility, and he has to be prepared for future threats. Fast forward to the same year that DBZ ends, only instead of another Tournament, there's a reunion at Capsle Corp. Some new threat comes, and the new lineup of Z fighters, led by Gohan, go into action. End of show/comic.

[tarithenurse]

New Years Eve

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Avenger!Reader Content: Pining, fluff, lemons. Don’t read if you’re not old enough. A/N: Refound the draft for this which I must have started back in December 2017. Thought it was about time to finish it...even if it’s not really NY Eve soon. And still...didn’t do proper proof reading. Sorry.

”The party of the year”, had been the way Tony described it when he secured your attendance for his New Years bash more than two months ago. Since then, you’d only heard rumours about the plans, and you’d been too preoccupied about getting through your solo-mission to spare a thought. That’s why you’d more than happily accepted when Wanda and Natasha had offered to sort whatever was needed that night.

Leaning back in the car seat, you really hope your two friends and co-Avengers have kept their end of the promise, whatever it might entail. No texts or calls have come your way which had been rather relaxing. For a while. Now not so much. Both Wanda and Nat are perfectly capable of being reasonable adult with common sense, but sometimes they end up in a mood where they wind each other up. Add Clint to the mix and the result will be disastrous, yet brilliant, pranking. For all you know, you might be on the way back to a cellophane covered room and a New Year’s outfit suitable for disguising the wearer as a flamingo.

...

Even after very careful inspection of your rooms, you’ve not been able to find any pranks lurking. And the outfit? It couldn’t have been better which is good because a few hours from arrival to party-start wouldn’t have left you with a whole lot of option. Why not re-use a dress or something? That’s what you normally would, but in usual Stark style the party has to be themed and this time it’s “animals” – hence the worry about the flamingo. But you’re in luck and the outfit is perfect.

More than perfect, you admit to yourself as you smooth a hand over the tightfitting number you’ve wriggled into. Tiny, faux scales in an oily-black shade is covering your body, only broken by the plunging cleavage and daring slit at along the thigh and a series of red accents that shimmer like fire across you chest and hips. Unfortunately, it does little to steel your nerves. It’s too…too…little! You feel exposed, naked.

A knock on the door barely precedes Natasha and Wanda who come barging in. They’re ready to go (one as a tiger and the other representing her alias’ namesake) and are here to put the last touches to their plan.

…

“I feel…like someone else!”

The woman staring back at you from the mirror is perfect. Dark makeup compliments the outfit (normally you’d only go as wild as mascara), and the usually unruly hair has been tamed into a surprisingly long, sleek braid that on its own looks like the snake you symbolize.

“You don’t like it?” Wanda cocks her head, causing the plushy tiger-ears to wobble endearingly.

You frown at the mirror. “I…I do! It’s just so…not how I normally look…” Do you? “That there,” you gesture helplessly, “she’s…I mean…hot and I’m not.”

“Jeez, good thing we got you sorted then.” Natasha’s adjusting the red/black corset one last time but spares a glance in your direction. “It’s about time you see what everyone else sees.”

Everyone? There’s no room in your head to consider the possible implications of that, so you try to ignore the hot bubble of nerves in your stomach. It’s just Nat and Wanda saying it. They’re your friends. Supportive, sweet, honest…but not objective. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if a couple of the guys would claim you were pretty either. Like Tony, he compliments anyone he meets on their outfits or whatnot (even if there’s nothing new about it), and Thor and Steve are the biggest sweetheart although one is quiet and the other is boisterous about it. Yeah, but what about Sam. And there you go, thinking exactly what you didn’t want to.

Sam used to be your friend. A buddy you hung out with and who showed you the ropes when you joined the Avengers. You still try to do that, but each moment around him is close to painful because you don’t see him as a casual friend anymore. You should because that’s what you guys are…but it’s not enough. What you feel for him is so much more. Trusting him with your life would be the easiest thing. And there’s no limit to what you’d do for him both in the field and outside to make sure he is safe and happy. Fuck.

“Hey! Viper, where you at?” Nat’s voice reaches through the swirling thoughts.

Both ladies are waiting at the open door, ready to head out. Mumbling an apology, you hurry after them, hoping they don’t notice your quickened breath and pulse.

“Why a black snake?” Standing in the elevator, it’s only now that it strikes you as odd. “I mean…as Viper it would make sense to use that for the animal tonight.”

“People might get suspicious,” Wanda shrugs, busy inspecting her nails.

Nat’s busy looking for something in her tiny purse but manages to talk past a thin knife: “Bwe’ide, ‘omeone elwe claimed it.”

…

You’d been lucky that there already were plenty people at the venue, meaning you could snake in between the other guests and head straight for the bar (ditching your friends at the same time).

“Gin ‘n tonic, please.”

Waiting for the drink, you look around the place. It’s busy, both at the bar running the length of the ball room, but also at the place in general. Hundreds of people are milling about, snatching canapés from trays carried by various birds (not actual birds, but waiters dressed as flamingos, cranes and so on). Huge tables with champagne pyramids is the only “classic” New Year’s theme while the place has been invaded by what appears to be an entire jungle. Lush green plants and exotic flowers create section in the large area while trees and hanging plants mingle above the heads of the guests, infiltrating the chandeliers to the point where you don’t think they will ever get free again.

“There y’are!” Nat’s smoky voice curls around you together with your arm. “Found the others by the palm trees. Steve’s a cat with yarn and all.”

It’s impossible not to take than bait, so you let her lead the way as soon as you got the cool drink in hand. They’re a sight to behold. Not just Steve the Kitten, but also Tony the Unicorn (sporting a long horn with which he attempts to skewer hors d’oeuvres when Pepper the Peacock isn’t looking) and well, probably everyone, but of course your mind is being silly and making sure to get stuck on the sight of the one person you shouldn’t watch.

Hot damn. Green scales glitter in the light as they adorn Sam’s suit, making it looks as if a viper’s curling around his body in a way you wouldn’t mind mimicking. No! I shouldn’t think that. At least he hasn’t noticed you because he’s too busy examining the rear end of Tony.

“You installed cooling?” His warm voice muffled by the fake tail hanging down.

“Wha’?! He’s got air-con?!” An edge of betrayal is powering Rhodes’ disbelief. “Man, you said I couldn’t get my exo cooled!” Hurrying over to take a look through Stark’s rear, he pushes Sam aside.

“Hey! Wa–” But Sam never gets further.

His eyes are scorching your skin but it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. Out of sheer nervousness, you fidget with the metal straw in the drink, almost inhaling the clear liquid. Suddenly, the dress is too revealing, causing your guts to clench in a desperate plea for hiding, but the moment you try to move to get a bit behind Nat and Bucky, you feel the air breeze through the slit. Shit. Heat is rushing through your body.

“You’re looking good.” It’s Steve. “Like what Wanda and Nat have done, sticking with the venomous snake theme.” His friendly chuckle helps you soften up a bit as memories of your old life flashes by.

Growing up in the slums in the biggest city in South America had taught you a lot – even more so during the hardest periods where you stole away to survive in the jungle instead, figuring it was safer than being near the gangs and drug cartels. In hindsight, neither option could’ve been considered safe, but that was at least you learned enough to eventually take up the fight. Try to protect innocent people from the violent crime lords. That’s how you’d gotten onto the Avengers’ radar. Why they came to capture you. It was a good thing Clint had been there on that trip because he convinced the others to bring you back.

“Thanks. Feels odd not to wear something more…practical.”

A broad smile flashes. “I get it. Penguin suits are fine, but they aren’t made for moving.”

“That too.” Need to get away. “’Scuse me.”

Slipping away between the myriad of guests, you circle the room once while pretending to admire the decorations. In reality, you’re scoping the place for quiet corners and easy escape routes. But soon enough your feet are carrying you back to the bar for a refill. From there it’s possible to see most of the room…including the random flashes of a familiar green. My colour.

…

How can it not be near midnight?! It’s never been this awkward hanging out with the team. Sure, the chatting and fun is still going on…it’s just you that finds it hard to feel comfortable in your own skin as long as your near Sam. You’d tried talking to him, pretending everything’s fine. Normal. No unrequited love tearing you up from the inside, making it feel like someone has dripped your old venoms straight into your heart.

So you try to spend your time on the dance floor where no one expects you to carry on a conversation as you can lose yourself in the rhythms. Otherwise it’s the bar that calls, luring you with cold G&Ts until your head is buzzing comfortably. Not drunk…because you never know what can happen. 4th of July was bad, you remember, pushing the ice cubes around in the tall glass.

A delicate but strong hand clamps onto your shoulder, startling you.

“Relax, hon, just me.” The redhead takes a seat beside you. “Do you want me to ask or are you just gonna talk?”

“’Bout what?”

You don’t even have to look at her to know she’s rolling the eyes. “Why you moping.”

“Oh.” The straw clinks against your teeth. She’s bluffing. “Ask away. Doesn’t mean I got anything to tell.”

Somehow managing not to spill the martini, Nat whips around to face you. “Right, of course not. ‘Cause it’s not like you’ve been harbouring a huge crush on a special gentleman.” Your glare doesn’t discourage her. “Maybe you should consider why the viper was taken so quickly.” And with that she floats away, drink in one hand and hips swaying elegantly to the music.

…

Dancing with Steve is an interesting experience: as physically gifted as he may be, this is one thing he has a hard time getting the hang on although he does his best to follow your instructions while both of you are grinning like fools, the ending of the song still brings a certain relief. Until you turn around straight into Sam’s arms. For a second, he seems just as baffled as you do, but then his trademark crooked grin lights up his face.

“Guess there’s no way about it now…wanna dance?” A warm hand is already skimming along your hip although the other waits for your decision.

It’s odd how perfectly his fingers fit around yours, how his arms seem to create a bubble of calmness that seeps into you until your breath is even and your heartbeat follows an unheard rhythm. Fingers with blood-red nails slither across venomous-green faux scales until coming to a rest on Sam’s shoulder.

“Didn’t know you liked that colour.” It looks amazing on him. “You should use it in your uniform.”

They’re playing an old Frank Sinatra song that you’ve heard a million times, allowing your brain to switch off and Sam to lead you effortlessly.

“I’ve thought about it…didn’t wanna to steal from you, tho’.”

He twirls you in his arms before dipping you, causing your heart to pound rapidly against the ribs so hard he might hear it (especially considering how close to your cleavage his ear is). Not like you haven’t stolen anything already.

“Oh, is that so?” Pulling you back up, chest against chest, it’s evident that you must have spoken your thoughts. “What’d I steal, babe?”

Babe. Sure, he’s used nicknames before. He’s the master of thinking up witty monikers for everyone on the team and failing that there’s always the classical endearments which he freely uses for everyone. This time, though, it’s spoken in a soft purr that makes it sound anything like the usual banter. You can’t take your eyes off him as your try to kick your brain back into action. A quick sweep of the tongue to get your mouth working brings back the taste of lipstick and G&T, brings Sam’s focus onto the red colour adorning your lips and his eyes darken momentarily.

Maybe you should consider why the viper was taken so quickly. Nat’s words echo in your mind and small details that you’ve never really given much thought start to fall into place. The way Sam always makes sure there’s a spot on the couch on movie nights, or how he somehow checks in a bit more frequently on missions than with the others. He even knows how you like your tea and coffee, despite the fact that you aren’t sure yourself.

“Sam…” you bite your bottom lip, still nervous.

“[Y/N]?”

Somewhere outside the bubble he’s created, the music is still playing, and people are getting closer to the new year, but inside, it’s just the two of you standing closer than humanly possible, allowing your lips to brush easily over his. Maybe the soft sigh is from him, it doesn’t matter. Just the fact that he recaptures your lips to deepen the kiss is important. His hand travels up the back to cradle your neck, the other arm drawing you closer.

…

The party is far away across town when the new year approaches. Clothes are discarded around the familiar room as Sam looks at you from under heavy lips. His hand is resting on your head that bobs slowly in unison with your hand. Each time the tip of your tongue twirls around the crown of his cock he hums in approval and you can feel his muscles work under the free hand you’re supporting yourself with partially.

His erection twitches as moans become groans, maybe spurred on at the quiet laughter you can’t hold back. It’s exhilarating to have such power over him, but next moment it’s gone as he pulls your away. Sam’s got you on your back quicker than you’d anticipated, lips trailing hot over the goosebumps covering your body and then…then he’s the one in control as mouth, tongue and fingers play you like an instrument, coaxing sounds from you that increasingly sound like his name. Sound like begging.

Your limbs are shaking when he pulls you onto his lap. Hands on your hips, the gorgeous man allows you to set the pace after he has aligned the throbbing cock with your wet core, and as you finally glide down the shaft, as he fills you up more than anyone has before, both of you cling on.

Open mouths breathing hard. Sweat glistening on skin. Moans. Strangled cries of pleasure. Partially suspended above your arching body, your name tumbles from Sam’s lips while his hips rock into you. Harder, faster. Your legs are on the verge of cramping from the iron hold around his waist, ankles locking behind his backs while your nails are digging into his shoulder blades.

Outside the window, fireworks light up the night sky, their explosions nearly drowned out by his name as you both tumble over the edge and into the hazy sea of bliss.

[gossamie]

2,561 Days

— summary: Two years of marriage could not stop the relationship from falling apart. As an attempt to seek closure before the divorce, Seokjin and you retrace your seven years together.

— pairing: kim seokjin x reader

— genre: angst (with a touch of fluff)

— word count: 7,195

— warnings: swearing

— notes: not including the introduction, each section is preceded by a flashback. anything italicized is a flashback; anything that is not italicized occurs in the present day. the flashbacks are separated from the present with this symbol ( ✾ ) and the main sections are separated using this symbol ( ❀ ). i wanted to clarify this just to clear up any confusion!

i’ve been waiting to show you this seokjin fanfic! worldwide handsome definitely deserves some more love ♡ enjoy!

“Once you love something, you can never stop loving it. Even after a divorce, the heart will not stop loving.” - Gregory David Roberts

The weather outside was perfect when Seokjin placed the divorce papers in front of you.

“You and I saw it coming,” Seokjin whispered, his voice shattering the deafening silence that hung in the air. He was only a few feet away but it felt that there were oceans to cross between you and him.

Seeing the papers in front of you did not surprise you because you agreed with Seokjin— you saw this coming, and you had seen it coming for the past few months. For what reason the marriage was falling apart, you were unsure, but you could feel your husband drifting away from you with each passing day. Seokjin began to dedicate more and more time to his company; you began to spend more and more time at the hospital. Life had simply gotten in the way and that was something you could not control.

What you lacked in shock, however, you filled with sadness. Your heart ached with a seemingly endless pain, but you did not know why. You saw this coming and had seen it coming, but maybe, you were still in denial that the end was near.

Your eyes could not tear away from the papers, from Seokjin’s signature inscribed on that thin black line. The sight of his name penned on that piece of paper only furthered your silent suffering. You felt as if the black ink made the ending of the seven years you had spent together seem permanent.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry.

The tears did not spill over.

“I didn’t sign that paper easily,” Seokjin said softly. You knew that he was not lying, but his words felt like a betrayal.

“You still signed it,” you replied, not bothering to hide the distress in your voice.

“I’ve already made my decision, Y/N.”

“You say that like this is your marriage. It’s ours. I get just as much say as you do in deciding if our marriage is over.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know that it’s been over between us. I know that you’ve felt it for just as long as I have.”

“That does not mean you get to file these without discussing it with me first!” you exclaimed, violently waving the papers in front of Seokjin. You could feel the documents in your hand burning holes into your skin.

“Do you think I wanted to sign those papers? I signed them so that the pain we’re going through right now will end as quickly as it started!”

“In what world do you think making the divorce indefinite would ease my pain? This is only making the pain worse! This fucking hurts, and it will never stop hurting!”

Tormented and breathless, you placed your head in your hands, your fists balling up your hair into clumps. The deafening silence ensued once more, the air laced with poison.

Seokjin hesitantly placed his hand on your arm. “Y/N, please—”

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, jerking away from his grasp. His touch felt like drops of acid.

“I don’t want this— I don’t want us to end like this,” he breathed. His voice trembled dangerously, and when you dared a glance at him, you could see agony flash in his eyes. “Can’t we try to find closure?”

“How could you ever find closure from this?”

“By retracing our seven years together. Let’s go to the places that were important to us, let’s reminisce the beautiful memories we’ve had, let’s just be us again, even if it is only for a day.”

You searched his face for any sign of deceit or artifice, but you could find nothing. You could only see his pleading gaze, see the torture that warped those beautiful brown eyes of his. For a moment, it felt as if you were looking at the Seokjin you fell in love with all those years ago, the man who could never lie when it came to you.

You believed him, and you agreed to remember.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　❀

Nosebleeds suck.

That was all you could think as the nurse placed another ice pack on your nose, still swollen from when that guy crashed into you. All you could remember from the incident was slamming face-first into the ground and the teacher helping you off of the gymnasium floor, leading you away from the stifled snickers of your surrounding classmates. Now you were here, leaning forward in your chair at the nurse’s office, all because of someone’s extremely broad shoulders and their inability to look behind them.

You heard the door open with a click and the chair beside you creak from the burden of someone’s weight. Your eyes shifted upwards, expecting to find the nurse bearing more bandages for the blood gushing out of your nose, but were instead met with a handsome face and broad shoulders.

Upon sight of you and the bandage-filled trash can beside you, the boy began to speak at an incredible rate. “Oh my gosh, that looks really bad. I’m so sorry for hitting you, really! I didn’t see where I was going and I thought that there was nobody behind me because I really wanted to make that three-pointer so I—”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not dying,” you said, halting his waterfall of words. His constant worrying was endearing to you and it caused a soft smile to lift the corners of your lips.

The boy pouted. “You’re laughing at me.”

“No, no!” you exclaimed. You tried to lift your head up to look at him, but the room began to spin in circles, forcing you to shift your gaze back to the linoleum floor. “It’s just… it’s nice to know that you care.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Let’s change that.” The boy held out his hand. “I’m Kim Seokjin, also known as the handsome guy you see walking around in the hallways.”

You scoffed at his overflowing confidence, but could not stop the smile on your face from growing wider. “Nice to meet you, Seokjin. I’m L/N Y/N.”

The moment you took his hand, you were overwhelmed with the sense that something was beginning, as if a grand story was about to be written.

“Can I say something kind of weird?” Seokjin asked.

“Go for it.”

“I have a feeling this isn’t the last time we’re going to see each other.”

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✾

Seokjin parked the car in the high school’s parking lot, the hum of the engine cutting abruptly to silence. In the sweltering warmth of summer, you could see waves of heat distort the asphalt, causing the gymnasium to twist and bend in front of your eyes. You had expected the high school to change drastically in the decade since you last walked through its walls, but it remained largely undisturbed; the school’s colors, blue and yellow, were still painted vividly across the gym’s concrete walls; to the right, the turf of the football field still a vibrant green; the bleachers still reflecting a harsh glare in the bright sun. Sitting in the car, you felt as if you were jettisoned back to your senior year, to when you first met the person you knew would give you a new beginning.

Looking back into your memory, you realized just how naïve your younger self was. You were seventeen and hopeful, constantly waiting for that one person whose love would change your life, whose love for you was everlasting.

How stupid you were to believe that love was infinite.

You kept your gaze lowered, focused on your thumbs fidgeting in your lap and not on the silence that followed you and Seokjin with its unwavering presence. There never used to be a silent moment with Seokjin. All of your memories with your husband were filled with conversation and laughter and happiness and love but it was gone now, only to be replaced with deafening silence.

Even now, as you look at the man you call your husband, you cannot find the Seokjin you remember falling in love with. Seokjin, the man whose laugh sounds like windshield wipers, whose jokes are so bad you cannot help but laugh, whose confidence in his good looks never faltered, has disappeared and you are the only person who is trying to find him.

You fell in love with Seokjin because he was the epitome of life, because he was the Earth and he was dedicated to making you his moon. But he was not the sun; he did not have the power to illuminate you and now you were left in darkness, forever stuck in between the Earth and the sun.

He was no longer the epitome of life because he let the burden of life overtake him and it saddened you endlessly.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry.

Again, the tears did not spill over.

“If you had the chance to go back in time, where would you go?” Seokjin asked, his gaze suddenly shifting to you.

His question caught you off guard and it took you a moment to formulate a coherent thought before you could even begin to think of an answer.

“There are a lot of moments I want to go back to, it’s hard to choose just one.” But I would go back to any moment if that moment was with you. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to find an answer to that question for a really long time, but I think I found my answer.”

“And that is?”

“I would go back to when I slammed into you while we were playing basketball senior year.”

You tried to stifle your laughter, but your efforts to suppress it were to no avail. “What, so you could break my nose again?”

Seokjin could not help but laugh either. You could not remember the last time you heard him laugh. “No, but it was pretty funny seeing you walk around with that huge puffy bandage on your nose.”

“Yeah, you called me Squidward for that whole month.”

“Your voice sounded nasally and you were as grumpy as Yoongi was. In all honesty, I think it was the perfect nickname.”

You laughed again, louder, brighter, and you wanted to laugh more because God, it felt so good to laugh again. “Alright, whatever. Can you tell me the real reason why you want to slam into me again?”

“I want to go back to when I ran into you because I want to relive meeting you again.”

You were taken aback. “Do you really mean that?”

Seokjin nodded. “If I actually paid attention to where I was going, I don’t think I would have met you, and if I never met you, that would be the biggest regret of my life.”

“Really?” you repeated, not believing what you were hearing.

“Of course, Y/N. I want to relive meeting the girl that changed my life.”

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　❀

“Seokjin, you’re fucking crazy.”

The said male, who was currently lockpicking the door to the greenhouse, replied, “I prefer the phrase, ‘Seokjin, you’re a fucking genius,’ but that works, too.”

“Your ‘genius’ idea is going to get us in trouble, or worse, arrested!” you shouted in a whisper, wildly looking around you for any signs of the authorities.

“Y/N, I know you love being Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, but you need to live a little. No one ever lived life to the fullest by playing it safe.”

“Tell me that again once we get expelled.”

“Y/N,” Seokjin repeated, turning around towards you and grasping your shoulders. “Do you trust me?”

The night sky was only illuminated by clusters of stars, but Seokjin’s eyes were still clear, striking, holding your gaze. You had only known Seokjin for a few months, but you felt like you had known him for an eternity, the bond forged between you and him impossible to destroy. The tight-knit friendship you shared with Seokjin quickly developed into something much more than a fleeting crush and the close proximity between you and the male was doing nothing to calm the butterflies fluttering madly in your stomach.

“Yes, of course I trust you.” It scared you how you trusted him more than anything.

“Then don’t worry. I promise you that I would never intentionally put you in a dangerous situation, and if anything happens, I’ll protect you.”

You wondered how lucky you were to have someone like Seokjin in your life.

A few minutes later, you and Seokjin successfully entered the greenhouse and began to carefully explore its interior. Moonlight filtered through the glass walls, reflecting a hazy, white light off of the trees and plants dotted along the floor in pots of varying shapes and sizes. Marigolds, sunflowers, dahlias— wherever you looked, you found a different flower, sprinkling the greenhouse like collections of ruby, amethyst, and gold. Above, vines and leaves were overflowing from their hanging baskets, creating minute, green waterfalls. You felt as if your presence was disturbing nature’s flourishing beauty, fragile as the glass barriers that held it in place.

You joined Seokjin at the very back of the greenhouse, where he stood surrounded by white chrysanthemums. He looked as if he had bloomed amongst them, his beauty rivaling that of the flowers.

Bending down, you plucked a small chrysanthemum from the pot nearest to you and when you stood back up, you gently tucked the blossom behind Seokjin’s ear. “There,” you hummed in satisfaction. “A flower for a flower.”

“It’s perfect for my handsome face, isn’t it?” Seokjin remarked, to which you agreed with a small laugh. Then, he added, “You know, I think it’s nice that every flower has its own meaning. We’re always so scared to say the things that we want to say, so flowers help us to say those things without actually having to say them.”

“Do you know what’s the meaning behind these flowers?”

To your surprise, Seokjin bent down and, brushing your hair behind your ear, slipped a chrysanthemum behind your ear. In an instant, your heart began to beat wildly in your chest and you looked down, embarrassed, willing the furious red blush on your cheeks to disappear.

“I read somewhere that white chrysanthemums symbolize loyalty and devoted love.”

“Since when did you read books about flo—”

You did not finish your sentence because Seokjin kissed you.

He kissed you like you were a flower; any sudden movement and your petals could fly away, so he held your hand tightly, afraid to let you go. You breathed your longing for him with a soft sigh to which he reciprocated by bringing you closer to him, your bodies melting into each other until you were one and the same, your hearts intertwined now and forever.

He pulled away, but his eyes never left yours.

“Y/N, will you let me be your white chrysanthemum?”

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✾

The afternoon sun rose in the sky at its highest point when you and Seokjin reached the school’s greenhouse. Upon arrival, you found that it was locked, just as it was all those years ago. Your husband, frowning, walked up to its exterior and began to jostle the lock on the door. When he found that the lock would not give way, Seokjin attempted to forcefully shake the handle, the glass walls rattling in protest.

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to break into the greenhouse again,” you said, the tone of your voice lifting in apprehension.

“It’s not that,” Seokjin huffed in annoyance. He was pressed up against the glass wall, trying to peer inside the greenhouse. “It’s just… I can’t believe it’s locked. Again.”

“Yeah, buildings do that.”

“It’s not funny, Y/N.” He was genuinely frustrated and his overwhelming desire to go inside the greenhouse shocked you.

“Why do you want to get in there so badly?”

A beat of silence hung in the air and you itched for it to vanish. Then, “I’m afraid that if we don’t go inside now, we never will, and we’ll lose that memory forever.”

You looked away from Seokjin, shying away from his words and instead focusing on the glare reflecting off of the greenhouse’s walls. When you looked inside of that glass building, you were reminded of when the stars shined brighter and the moon illuminated its light on two souls, two souls who were creating a promise as eternal as the night sky above them, and your heart swelled with euphoria.

But that never-ending promise was running out of time, becoming fractured at its edges like fallen petals and now your heart was breaking and now you were fighting back tears don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry the tears are worthless now.

The tears did not spill over.

“It hurts to remember,” you whispered through constrained teeth.

“It hurts more to forget,” Seokjin countered. You winced because he was right.

You could not bear to look at Seokjin; you feared that if you did, you would shatter into crystal fragments before him, so you instead forced yourself to walk closer to the greenhouse and peer through its glass walls. As you examined the interior of the building, your gaze unconsciously directed itself towards the very back of the greenhouse where, tucked away in a corner, sat blooms of white chrysanthemums.

It was evident that the flowers were still being meticulously tended to. There was not a single wilting floret in sight, each blossom flourishing with rich, cream petals and vibrant, emerald fronds. In the decade that had passed since that fateful night, the beauty of the white chrysanthemums had not died, but thrived.

If the white chrysanthemums had not faded, neither could your memory of that night.

You were so taken by the sight of the white chrysanthemums that you did not realize that Seokjin was by your side, looking at the flowers as well, nor did you realize that he was holding your hand. You stared at your intertwined palms and tried to remember the last time that you held hands with Seokjin, but could not.

When you looked up, Seokjin was already gazing at you, grief and hope melded in his eyes.

“Promise me that you won’t forget us.”

You nodded. “I could never forget, even if I tried.”

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　❀

From your vantage point leaning against the railing of the Sky Rose Garden, the city of Seoul sprawled out infinitely. Dusk was beginning to fall over the bustling metropolis and its setting sun cast hues of peach, lavender, and sapphire on any object that its rays touched. Concrete and glass majesties stood proudly wherever you looked and barely grazed the sky above, where stars were slowly peeking out from behind misty clouds. A soft summer breeze drifted lazily through the air, carrying with it the sweet scent of roses. The setting before you was the perfect backdrop for a blossoming romance.

If only your first date was as romantic.

You started to lose count of how many times awkward silence hung in between you and Seokjin once the number became larger than the number of fingers on your hands. When you were not trying to fill the silence with small talk, you were silently drinking coffee, pretending to be fascinated by the silk of your dress. You knew saving the date was hopeless, however, once you spilled your mocha on Seokjin’s pants in an attempt to hold his hand.

This was far from the ideal first date you had planned in your mind and even further from the picturesque first dates you see in movies. It upset you far more than you expected. You wanted so desperately to make this date perfect, to strengthen the connection you felt with Seokjin on that night in the greenhouse, but this “perfect” night was falling to pieces just beyond your grasp and you could do nothing to fix it.

A gentle tap on your shoulder temporarily withdrew you from your distress, and when you turned around, you were met with Seokjin’s kind gaze and red cheeks.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hi.”

You coughed. “Were you able to wash the coffee away?”

“Kind of. My pants are brown now, but I can wash it later.”

“Cool.”

Awkward silence ensued for the twelfth time that night.

“Who am I kidding?” you suddenly exclaimed, placing your head in your hands. “This night is a disaster.”

Seokjin looked puzzled. “Y/N, what are you talking about? This has to be one of the most memorable nights of my life.”

Now, it was your turn to look confused. “But— but I couldn’t get a single word out of my mouth and all I did was stuff my face with food and I totally ruined it by spilling my coffee on your pants and—”

“Ruined it?” Seokjin questioned. “Sure, this night wasn’t the most spectacular night of my life and, sure, you did spill your drink all over my favorite pants—”

“Thanks for rubbing it in.”

“—But I could care less about what happened or what we did or where we were. All that matters to me is that we’re spending time together and making memories together. We’re together and that makes me the happiest man on this planet. How could you ruin that?”

You thought that you did not deserve to have Kim Seokjin in your life.

Embarrassed, you focused your attention on the blush roses encircling your feet, and for the first time all night, you laughed. “Hey, maybe when we’re older and we come back, we can remember this day and laugh about it. I bet it’ll be a really good story.”

“Exactly. Plus, you can include the part where I become your Casanova and give you this—”

From behind his back, Seokjin produced a rose, its ivory petals fluttering in the summer breeze as he gently placed the blossom in your hands. “The florist told me that white roses represent new beginnings, which I thought was perfect for us.”

To you, the rose was much more than a blossom. To you, the rose was a promise, as if the bond that you and Seokjin created amongst chrysanthemums had manifested itself into twenty cream petals. You held the flower close to your chest. You felt that the closer you could keep the rose to your heart, the more intertwined this promise would be with your soul.

Without a second thought, you locked eyes with Seokjin and said, “I feel like I’m falling in love with you.”

Seokjin replied, “I’ve already fallen in love with you.”

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✾

You wished that everything did not look the same.

If the sun had already set, if there was not a single cloud in the sky, if the city was falling asleep, if the skyscrapers had disappeared under the pitch black sky, if you could not smell the roses, then you would not have felt so lost; you would have felt comfort in the fact that, like you, the world was undergoing a drastic change.

But, no— the sun was still setting, the clouds were still hiding a sea of stars, the city was still bustling, the skyscrapers were still grazing the sky, the scent of roses was still drifting through the breeze. The unchanged scenery reminded you that the world around you was still constant, forever looking towards a new day. Only you and Seokjin had changed, left to pick up the pieces of your crumbling romance.

Yet, even though you knew that this fractured love was beyond repair, you held onto the hope that there was still time left for the two of you, that there was still a way for you to fix what was broken, and you held onto this hope with the strength that you did not have.

You did not have to turn around to know that Seokjin was behind you. His presence was like a magnet; you were indescribably drawn to each other, as if by design. When he spoke, his voice was strained and you could hear how the pain was stifling his words. “It’s still so beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked.

You answered with a silent nod, keeping your gaze on the sun dipping below the horizon.

Seokjin sighed heavily. As your eyes darted a brief glance at him, you could see just how low his shoulders sank with the burden of unspoken words. His next words were slow, deliberate. “We always talked about coming back here, but… I didn’t think it would be like this. Never did I want to come back like this.”

You did not answer. Your body was suddenly rigid.

“I really did want it to be forever with you. I wanted to have a family together, I wanted to grow old with you, I wanted to spend more time together than apart, I wanted to—”

“You did. You wanted. You wanted it to be forever, but you don’t want it— you don’t want me anymore.”

“Y/N, please—”

“Stop. Just stop it. Please, you’re only making it worse.”

The sound of his footsteps fading and the magnetic connection disappearing signaled to you that Seokjin had disappeared. You tilted your head up to the sky, willing the tears threatening to blur your vision to disappear as well.

You looked back down to see Seokjin placing a white rose in your hands.

The flower was still beautiful, its purity radiating from its cream petals. However, you could not view it as such; to you, it was ugly. The rose was now a broken promise. The rose was now an ending. The rose was now all of the dreams you had lost with a signature on divorce papers, of all that could no longer be.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry.

The tears spilled over.

You cried desperately and endlessly. You cried waterfalls, tears cascading down your cheeks with such force they could fill oceans. You cried because you could no longer hold onto any hope, because you were mourning what had already been lost.

Seokjin held you in his arms, but you could not wrap your arms around him. He was so close yet so far away, the distance between you growing with each passing second.

You let the white rose slip from your fingers. You and Seokjin’s ending was near.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　❀

If there was one thing Seokjin was worse at than lying, it was hiding surprises from you.

You could tell Seokjin was trying to act normal, but his nervous tendencies were still evident: his ears were a garish scarlet, his eyes were moving in every direction, his right hand constantly fidgeting with something in his pocket. He looked as if he was lost in the recesses of his mind, as if he was piecing together a puzzle from his thoughts.

Seokjin’s anxious behavior could not distract you from the beauty of your surroundings, however. Your boyfriend was insistent on visiting Yeouido Park this morning, for what reason you did not know, and as you strolled down the street with your hand held in Seokjin’s, you became enraptured by the landscape. Sunlight lazily filtered through the blooming cherry blossoms, the white of the petals creating a stark contrast with the slate of the clouds. The trees swayed and bent in the breeze, waving to you and Seokjin as you passed under their branches. The air was heavy with the scent of rain and the grass beneath your feet was sprinkled with fresh dew. Spring had been awaiting you and Seokjin’s arrival, and had been preparing to share this beautiful day with you for eternity.

It was then that Seokjin finally accepted Spring’s beckoning call as he led you away from the street and into a small clearing where cherry blossom trees encircled you in its white offshoots. Petals fluttered around you and Seokjin with the delicacy of an angel’s feathers and it felt as if you and Seokjin had stepped into heaven.

Seokjin breathed in, breathed out. His ears were still red and his hand was still turning in his pockets, but he looked at peace, ready to complete the puzzle that was his mind.

“Y/N,” he began, trepidation in his tone, “do you want to know why I brought you here?”

You shook your head in reply. You were utterly captivated by the angel standing in front of you.

“Standing here, with the cherry blossoms all around us and at our feet— it reminds me of our first kiss, when white chrysanthemums were all around us and at our feet.”

He shifted his gaze down to your intertwined hands, a reminiscent smile gracing his lips. “It reminds me of how beautiful that night was and how beautiful you were and how beautiful it was for me to share that moment with you. That has to be the most beautiful moment in my life because that was the moment I fell in love with you.

“I knew in that moment that I would keep falling in love with you. I knew in that moment that I wanted to keep falling in love with you until my breath ran out. Y/N, I fall more in love with you every single day. I look at you and I try to think of my life without you and I can’t. I try to think of not seeing your smile, of not waking up by your side every morning, of not being the person that I call mine and I— I just can’t. It’s one of the best problems I’ve ever had.

“These past five years have been the best five years I have ever lived and it’s all because of you. I want to keep falling in love with you until time stops, until forever has a limit. You are the love of my life and I want to love you for the rest of my life.”

Seokjin bent down on one knee and said, “L/N Y/N, will you marry me?”

You wrapped your arms around Seokjin with so much force it almost knocked the both of you. But he embraced you tightly, holding you in his arms as you whispered a million “yes’s” into his ear and he slid a diamond band onto your ring finger.

He kissed you and the stars aligned.

As Seokjin held you in his arms, you could feel one, two, three raindrops fall on your skin and all at once, rain began to pour from above. Startled, you lifted your hands above your head in a futile attempt to shelter yourself from the storm. But when you pulled Seokjin to come with you, he did not move, his gaze fixated on the sky.

“Seokjin, what are you doing?” you cried over the torrent. “You’re already soaked!”

“Dance with me,” he replied.

“Are you crazy? We need to go!”

“Dance with me, Y/N,” he repeated. You looked at him and you saw stars twinkle in his eyes with the same intensity as the stars did above that greenhouse five years ago and, suddenly, you were drawn in.

The falling rain was your melody, the cherry blossom trees were your stage, the petals tangled in your hair were your jewels. It was a chaotic scene; the rain beat down relentlessly and people were frantically running to their cars to escape the downpour, but still you and Seokjin stayed, slowly dancing in your own slice of heaven.

Time passed, and still you and Seokjin danced and danced, and still it rained and rained, for Spring wanted the melody to continue for the two souls who were now and forever in love.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✾

It was impossible to deny that the beauty of Yeouido Park was timeless. There was not a single cloud in the sky; only the moon, with its rays of light beaming down on every surface they touched, was prominent in the obsidian sky. The cherry blossoms glimmered with a pale pink luster, the moonlight reflecting off of the petals shining brighter than you remember. Couples were wandering past you and Seokjin, the sound of their laughter adding an intimate innocence to the lovely atmosphere.

But everything was ugly to you now.

Summer’s attempts to illuminate the beauty of the afternoon were in vain, for wherever your eyes looked, you were filled with an unfathomable pain. You looked at the glow of the cherry blossoms, at the rich emerald leaves, at the shimmering waves of the pavillion, and it reminded you of that spring day, when Seokjin proposed to you under fallen petals and created a new beginning for the two of you.

You did not dare to look at Seokjin because you knew that if you did, the pain would obliterate your heart, so you kept your gaze forward, focused on the road ahead. The palm of your hand felt empty, so used to feeling Seokjin’s fingers intertwined with yours. You were desperate to feel that contact once more. If you could hold Seokjin’s hand once more, even if it was only for a fleeting moment, you felt that you could keep him from flying away, the oceans between you no longer drowning you.

If only it were that simple.

Silently and without warning, Seokjin led you off of the street and into the thicket of trees, his figure melting into the shadows and the petals. You followed him without hesitation and found him surrounded by cherry blossom trees, his silhouette gazing upwards towards the incandescent moon. It was then that you realized you were in the same clearing that Seokjin proposed to you in two years ago and, suddenly, your stomach swelled with a sickening ache. You wanted so badly to leave; you felt that your presence was tainting the purity of the cherry blossoms, seeping into the pink petals like poison. But your body did not obey your thoughts, forcing you to watch the man who was no longer yours.

Your feet walked towards Seokjin and stood in front of him. As Seokjin’s gaze shifted towards you, you could see constellations swim in his eyes and, God, he was so beautiful you wanted to take as many of his galaxies as you could and never let go.

You felt Seokjin’s hand hesitantly graze your fingertips before entwining his fingers with yours, and your palm stung at the sudden contact. The wedding band burned the skin on your ring finger as if it, too, could sense that the unbreakable bond between you and Seokjin was about to sever.

“Seokjin, can I ask you something?” you whispered, flinching at the agony in your voice.

“Of course.”

“Why don’t you love me anymore?”

“I still love you, Y/N. A part of me will always love you.”

“Then why are you leaving me?”

“Because… because I think destiny is telling us that we need to leave each other.” His voice was shaking, and you could tell that it was physically hurting him to speak. “Because life has been our most daunting obstacle, and if we continue this way, we’ll only destroy each other even more, and I can’t— I won’t put you through that pain.”

He could not lie to you and you began to cry because the truth ran through your heart like a knife.

With a pained sob, you collapsed against Seokjin’s chest, your tears staining the fabric of his shirt. He held you close, his arms wrapped around you as tightly on that spring day, and he kissed your forehead and your cheeks and your nose and your lips and your tears away, trying desperately to stop the rain from falling.

“Y/N,” Seokjin whispered, his words wavering, “I love you more than I thought that I could love a single person in this world and you love me more than I love you. You have stayed by my side through all of our ups and downs, you have trusted me blindly, you have cared for me more than you care for yourself. What amazes me even more is that you never asked anything in return, and I never deserved someone as amazing as you. You have given me undying love, and for that I am and forever will be grateful to you.

“Promise me, Y/N, that you will never forget that I love you.”

He kissed you with delicacy and fragility, his touch like that of a wilting flower. You held him close, wanting to preserve this moment for as long as possible. You could tell in the way Seokjin’s lips lingered against yours that this was the last kiss you would ever share with him.

The moon waned in the sky and the stars could no longer shine. They were mourning the loss of the two lovers whose time had run out.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　❀

“I’m surprised you’ve never been here before. I like to call it my secret hideout.”

You led Jimin to the railing of the rooftop garden, where you and Jimin admired the city of Seoul amidst ruby and lilac roses. The sun was beginning to set over the horizon, preparing to let the moon reign in its place, and your heart swelled with happiness as you watched Jimin’s gaze fixate on the peach, lavender, and sapphire hues of the sky.

“Y/N, this place is beautiful. How did you find this ‘secret hideout’ of yours?”

“I’ve known about this place for a long time. It holds a special place in my heart.”

“Well, I’m glad that you wanted to share this secret with me.”

He flashed that brilliant smile of his and you could feel a smile on your lips forming on your lips in response, always impossible to contain. You had only spent three months with Jimin, but the happiness and the devotion he gave you was addicting, feelings you have been struggling to find for a long, long time.

While Jimin’s attention was still focused on the dazzling sunset, your gaze drifted to a white rose flowering next to you, as if your eyes were telling you to share this symbol of a new beginning with the man next to you. As you bent down to pluck it, you were surprised to find that someone else shared your intent, their fingers wrapped around yours.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said. “You can have—”

You were met with a handsome face and broad shoulders. One name filled your thoughts: Seokjin.

Two years— that was the amount of time that had passed since you had signed the divorce papers, since you had taken off the band on your ring finger, since you had last seen the man you once called your husband. You studied Seokjin. His hair was now a stark blonde, but nothing else about him had changed; his handsome features were still prominent, his stature still confident, his eyes still loving. You felt your heart throb with longing, each heartbeat sending resounding pain throughout your chest.

In shock, you and Seokjin stood up, gazes fixated on each other, heartbeats pounding in time with the other. The both of you had completely forgotten about the white rose blooming at your feet. Your lips tried to form words, but your mind could not find letters to assemble. What were you supposed to say to the person who once meant so much to you?

Someone had walked up behind Seokjin as you wordlessly stared at each other, their arms linking with Seokjin’s. “Hey,” the person said. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Seokjin blinked, snapping out of his muted reverie. “Sorry, I just got distracted by the roses.” His eyes kept flashing back and forth between you and the person as if in disbelief of the situation. “Sooyun, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Sooyun, my girlfriend.”

Your heart caught in your throat. You thought you would be suffocated by agony.

Inwardly, you marveled at your ability to maintain the smile on your face as Sooyun, oblivious, reached out her hand for you to take. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” she said happily.

You nodded and shook her hand, still not quite ready to speak. You could not help but to be envious at her long, cascading locks, at her porcelain skin, at her hourglass figure. She looked like a dream, like the woman Seokjin finally deserved.

“How do you two know each other?” Sooyun asked. Seokjin’s eyes were begging you to reply and you realized that he had not told his girlfriend that you were once his wife.

We used to be married. We used to promise to love the other until death did us part. We used to be madly in love. “We’re really close friends,” you replied, to which Seokjin agreed.

At that moment, Jimin joined your side. Sensing the strange tension permeating the air, his hand protectively lay on the small of your back, his thumb tracing circles at the base of your spine. Unconsciously, you relaxed into his touch. He could always tell when you needed him the most, and his presence replaced your apprehension with security.

“Seokjin, this is Jimin, my boyfriend,” you shyly said. As you uttered the last word, you swore you saw something akin to torture flash in those brown eyes of Seokjin’s.

An awkward exchange ensued between the two couples. You caught small pieces of dialogue— they, too, had come here to celebrate their anniversary; they, too, had been dating for three months— but you could not focus on the conversation. You were transfixed by the way Seokjin wrapped his arm around her waist, by the way he smiled so brightly when he looked at her, just as he did with you seven years ago. Seokjin had taken a piece of your heart when he left, a hole you gradually repaired, but seeing him with someone new was tearing apart that hole at its seams.

The two couples said their goodbyes as the stars appeared from behind the clouds and adorned the indigo sky like diamonds. You were terrified that this would be your final goodbye to Seokjin so you watched him for as long as you possibly could, desperate to keep his eyes his lips his face etched in your memory. But too soon, Jimin began to lead you away; too soon, you and Seokjin were walking in opposite directions when seven years ago you should have been walking in one.

You willed yourself to not look back don’t look back don’t look back don’tlookdon’tlook.

You looked back and saw Seokjin looking back at you.

It was difficult to read his gaze as his eyes were a medley of conflicting emotions. He shared the pain and the sadness you felt, but most of all, he looked… happy. He was happy that you had someone to ease your pain, someone to share your happiness with, someone to give your undying love to. You were not walking away from each other, but rather, walking towards a new beginning.

You and Seokjin shared a love that neither time nor separation could destroy. There was nothing in this world that could make you forget that Seokjin loves you just as you love Seokjin. You did not leave Seokjin in pain; you left in peace.

You turned around, held Jimin’s hand, and let Seokjin go.

[miraculousmidnightreviews]

The Trials of Apollo #3: The Burning Maze Book Review

By Rick Riordan

5/5 stars

Summary: After waking up as a mere mortal, Apollo must navigate Zeus’ punishment as he and his demigod companion/master Meg travel to San Francisco to rescue a third oracle from the clutches of yet another Roman emperor that is not quite dead. With the help of some familiar faces and friendly nature spirits, Apollo continues to understand the hardships of the demigods and must learn the stakes are much higher than the loss of his seat on Olympus.

Apollo’s Character Development

In the previous books of the Trials of Apollo series, Apollo’s character was more of a means to an end for me. He provided a good laugh, but he wasn’t a hero. Not in the way that I was used to at least. Going into the series, I expected a Percy Jackson type or even Percy himself. Does anyone else have that problem? In every series written by Riordan, whether Greek mythology or other, I always want Percy to jump in and save the day. I live and breathe Percy Jackson, and I would totally be okay if every book just turned into another PJO novel. But alas, that cannot be.

Back to Apollo though: In fight scenes, he normally doesn’t get in on the action until the final blow must be struck or until he remembers something helpful from his years as a god. In that way, he’s sort of a looking glass for the reader; he sees and interacts with characters I care more about. It wasn’t until this book did I finally find a connection to Apollo. It takes some work and certain demigods to bring his pompous ass back to the mortal realm but it happens. Because of this shift in him, The Burning Maze becomes more than just another journey to secure another oracle. I foresee the book as a turning point in the series, one that Riordan can never go back from.

Plot Structure

Rick Riordan has a unique way of structuring his books that has become apparent to me over the years. A classic Riordan book normally includes a beginning chapter that plants the reader right in the middle of the action (and this books does not lack that) along with a few chapters to decompress, all the while learning new information that may aid the main characters in their journeys, a sprinkle of character development, and maybe a hint of a good ole plot twist. The pattern continues like this: a few chapters where action-packed battle scenes filled with heroism entice the reader, and then, as the fighting winds down, a few chapters follow as the characters gather to strategize, impart some wisdom and whatnot as the sequence replays once again. 

 As I’ve grown older, I’ve found it harder to remain focused while reading Riordan’s novels, which is a given considering they’re aimed at a middle grade audience. However, The Burning Maze was a delightful surprise in regards to my attention span. I couldn’t seem to put it down despite how hard I tried. Yes, it may be cliché to say that, but there is some truth in clichés. Riordan’s new novel followed, well, a plot that wasn’t predictable at all in terms of structure. The storyline felt more nuanced as not one but two major conflicts drove the characters forward. The chapters didn’t lead up to an epic Riordan-esque final battle. Without spoiling, the plot for me hastened towards two pivotal moments, each a hundred pages apart. One was completely expected and one was not.

The Side Characters! (minor spoilers in this section)

First of all, I never really cared about Meg, but this book really changed my perception of both her and Apollo. They make a strange duo, and yet it somehow works. As Meg and Apollo search for the third oracle, they find a group of nature spirits that need their help and are somehow connected to their quest. The interactions between Meg and these nature spirits as well as revelations about her past turn a once prickly character into someone more tolerable, even enjoyable. The care that both Meg and Apollo have towards each other along with their funny banter really makes their relationship more relatable.

As soon as I read the end of the preceding book, I couldn’t wait to see what our good friend Grover had been up to since the original PJO series. His role as a guide brought back some major feels, especially as he helped the mains navigate the Labyrinth. I enjoyed reading about this character again, and I’m glad he wasn’t anything more than their guide. Riordan perfectly balanced his role and appearances in the book.

Piper has grown so much as a character, and it’s really noticeable in this book. What’s interesting about The Trials of Apollo is that the series shows us characters we know and love through the perspective of a fresh face. Seeing Piper take on more responsibility and aid Apollo on a quest instead of being the demigod on the quest was extremely different but quite enjoyable. It was such a bittersweet moment for me to read about her again. For those who might have found her annoying in the HoO series, I think you may like her better as a side character. Apollo somewhat idolizes everyone because they are more capable than him and that makes them more admirable. 

WOW, Piper and Jason?! Two mains from previous books in more than just a few scenes? I am truly living life here. Thanks Uncle Rick. I’ll be honest, I never liked Jason Grace. At one point, I truly despised him. He annoyed me. But now that he’s not constantly pitted against my fav Percy, I have developed a newfound respect and fondness for his character. Once again, it’s truly amazing to see these characters from my childhood grow up. They’re figuring out their lives and going to school. It made my eyes water a little at the bittersweetness of it all. 

I don’t want to spoil too much but Coach, Mellie, and their kid are adorable. That is all.

Thanks for reading! We hoped you enjoyed our non-spoilery review! Come back later for the spoilery stuff, or keep reading at your own risk! Check out our other reviews here.

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

The Death of Jason Grace

Jason dies wtf

nothing else matters

JASON GRACE IS FUCKING DEAD

HOW CAN MY CHILDHOOD BE RUINED LIKE THIS?!

LIKE WHAT i am still shooketh how can this possible be?!

Okay I avoided writing this review for a few weeks because of Jason Grace. It honestly shocked me. At first, I didn’t know how to react. I cried a little. My childhood character, despite my past hatred for him, had been killed. Then I was furious. How could Rick Riordan do this to me? To the fandom? All we want is for our precious babies to be happy. THEY DESERVE TO BE HAPPY! And yet a hero never gets what he deserves.

After reflecting on it, I now understand the necessity of Jason’s death. Before this book, I didn’t really take this series seriously, and gurl, was that a big mistake. After reading The Hidden Oracle, I considered Apollo’s adventures as a joyride down memory lane. Oh look, over there, is that Percy in Camp Half-Blood? Leo and Calypso riding Festus? Piper and Jason living in San Fran? I loved it. The nostalgia was overwhelming and I couldn’t read them fast enough. But that soon ended with the murder of both Jason Grace and my soul. Now, the stakes are raised and I’ve learned from my mistakes. Riordan knows how to draw in the readers. I should have seen this coming, and yet, like that unforgettable drop into Tartarus, these characters and I will never be the same.

Another thing about Jason’s death: it really hurt. I just needed to reiterate that I felt physical pain in my chest while reading that scene, almost like I was the one being impaled instead of Jason. And to make it worse, Caligula didn’t just impale Jason and then leave. Oh no, Rick just had to make Caligula stab him again for good measure. Rub in the finality of his death with each jab of his golden spear. Jason was the perfect hero to die and that made everything a hundred times worse. He followed the rules. He was truly good. Which made it all the more heartbreaking when his adherence to the rules wasn’t enough to save his life.

ANOTHER thing: the fuck you mean Piper and Jason broke up? Yeah, not everyone can be Percabeth but really? I found myself shipping them more while they were separated than when they were actually dating. Damn, this book was pretty good. And Piper never had a final goodbye? AND LEO?! HE LITERALLY FLEW TO MEET THEM ONLY TO FIND JASON DEAD? I had to reread some of HoO because of this terrible nostalgia, and it just made me think: was that the last time they were all together? During the battle against Gaea? And now that will be the very last time, because Jason Grace is dead. And like I said before, there’s just no going back.

Thanks for reading! We hoped you enjoyed both our non-spoilery and spoilery reviews! Check out our other reviews here!

—Alexa

[theimportanceofbeingaloof]

Close reading - SJ Fowler - Wolves in Chernobyl

Wolves in Chernobyl

                            today is nothing. the future won’t come                             Vasyl Stus

      April 26th 1986

                 Ø 

but even apart from our wood I do not know how one should say things in the dark have colour

will the wise do things, things that are forbidden, knowing it won’t be found out? a simple answer isn’t easy to find but freedom from trouble in the thing and from pain in the thing are still in the pleasure, but joy in the thing, and exultation, are considered, involving motion.

                   Ø

all the day life in the town goes on as normal  families shop and walk their dogs fisherman lug their tackle off to the Prypyat river couples sunbath around the cooling ponds football matches go ahead as do sixteen outdoor weddings sponsored by the communist youth league

                    Ø

how can an object be good if it withdraws the pleasure of taste, (retreat for the cowardly) and withdraws the pleasures of love.... and withdraws the pleasures of hearing... and call of the button and withdraws the pleasurable emotions caused to sight by beautiful form? yet it can be, good, giving, living in the goodness of our wood. by stable conditions, by well-being, by the sure hope of its continuance, Kyiv, it was good, rightly calculated do not eat green vegetables or milk.

                       Ø

the nature of the universe is things and void. the nature of all existing things is body and space. the nature of all space is things and colour. if you wish to make me wealthy, with me not to make me glow, but diminish my desire.

yet do not extinguish my desire, allow me just enough left that I may not preach of being one, or without desire, and above my peers, but happy in the clutching of a ball or an artist’s postcard. or a parents plot of land. I hold in my hand my most precious object - one’s own pickled, cancerous appendix.

                     Ø

I am thrilled with pleasure in the thing’s body. I spit black spit on clear glass that is not somehow opaque - or how we say ‘frosted’ - not for its own sake, ancient armour, a gift from the basalt, that blocks waves because of the inconveniences that follow them. With protection we may have a feast.

                    Ø

the schools debated whether or not to go ahead with a planned ‘Health run’ and settled on outdoor gymnastics instead

                    Ø

this is not anxious to please the mob. for what pleases them, it does not know, and what it does know is far removed from their comprehension. it knows that when flesh cries aloud, not possessing flesh, it is unnatural that the mind should cry aloud too. a silent stomach communicates in sweeping thoughts

                     Ø

it is better to be a thing of wool and rag that provokes freedom from fear than a golden couch that brings trouble and woe.

sweet is the simple memory of a dead thing, a friend, a flag and how one would not mind so much the joining of you both.

more firemen came up complaining of vomiting and acute headaches

                    Ø

if this wooden thing listened to the prayers of all men, all men would quickly have perished; for they are forever playing death against one another.

if the prayers of women were to come true... of this i cannot speak, knowing not.

a foal had been born with eight legs piglets without eyes calves without heads or ribs.                 deformities due to inbreeding

                     Ø

vain is the thing that does not heal suffering in man for there is nothing new happening in the universe, the warp closes like a mouth, always readied for opening.

If we consider the infinite time passed, and thus there is no excuse for distractions. dumb things are for drowning, thus the sea is deep.

helped us understand we are a colony

What is it?

‘Wolves in Chernobyl’ is a mysterious, unrhymed poem in nine parts. There are no wolves in the poem, except for the title, yet there is a palpable sense of their presence, or the presence of something dangerous, lurking in the woods. This could be wolves ‘living in the goodness of our wood’, it could be a nefarious woodland spirit, it could be impending nuclear disaster, it could be something else entirely. The poem is dated April 26th 1986, the date of the calamitous safety test at the Chernobyl Nuclear Plant, but again the poem makes no direct reference to the disaster, only leaving sparse clues, for example ‘more firemen came up / complaining of vomiting and acute headaches’ and ‘I spit black spit’. The poem is preceded by an epigraph from the Ukrainian poet Vasyl Stus: ‘today is nothing. the future won’t come’, which ties together various hints that the events of the poem mostly take place before the effects of the nuclear accident, a peaceful moment where ‘life in the town goes on as normal’, before imminent destruction wreaks havoc.

Why it works

The poem is set on a precipice, much like the film Titanic, the reader already knows the outcome  [the biggest nuclear disaster in history] which looms over the poem, amplifying the tension. The poem moves back and forth between descriptions of human activity by the woods and philosophical musings which seem to emanate from the woods or are the woods themselves speaking.

The poem is unlike a lot of contemporary British poetry, which tends to be quite insular, as it bears a strong influence of post-war European poetry, it benefits from this influence, making it stranger and more adventurous. It is a poem which rewards multiple readings, never giving the answers to the riddles it poses, always teasing and probing. Wolves in Chernobyl works as a window into a brilliant mind, it shows of the depth of Fowler’s investment in poetry and is one of his most beguiling and accomplished poems.

Anything else?

The Ukrainian poet who Fowler quotes in the epigraph, Vasyl Stus, died the year before the Chernobyl disaster while on hunger strike in a forced labour camp, serving a ten year sentence for ‘anti soviet activities’. He is now celebrated as one of Ukraine’s greatest poets.

Fowler seems the unlikeliest of poets to quote from the Bible, but in the last section ‘there is nothing new happening in the universe’ seems too similar to the famous phrase from the Book of Ecclesiastes ‘there is nothing new under the sun’ to be coincidental.

The Rottweiler’s Guide to the Dog Owner, the collection in which Wolves in Cherbobly can be found, contains the affidavit “ALL ERRATA IS INTENTIONAL AND THIS WORK HAS BEEN THOROUGHLY PROOFED” - a helpful note for readers unfamiliar with the nuances of experimental poetry.

_________________________

Buy a copy of The Rottweiler’s Guide to the Dog Owner

[secretradiobrooklyn]

SECRET RADIO | 10.3.20 & 10.10.20 Combo

Secret Radio | 10.3 & 10.10 | Hear it here.

Liner notes by Evan except *, artwork by Paige

1. The Modern Lovers - “Roadrunner”

Can there be, can there ever be, a better hittin’ the road song than this? Not to me, not to us. “I’m in love with modern moonlight… I’m in love with the radio on” This song brings everything that makes rock so fundamentally exciting: the straightforward beat, electric guitars, electric keys, that sense of complete freedom with your gang in the backseat singing the chorus. 

2. Swell Maps - “Full Moon In My Pocket”

It pains me to admit that I cannot remember the name of the pasteup guy at the Rocket who used to tell me about the bands he loved, and that he thought I’d dig. I was so, SO into Pavement at the time, head over heels, and he did a great job of acquainting me with some of their precedents, handing off tape comps with songs from Young Marble Giants, Au Pairs, Swell Maps, and so much more. One of the tapes had this song, in two versions actually: this one, and an a cappella version, which sounds very poncey except it was the same take as this, bouncing with reverb and attitude. On our long drive from the woods to the city, a full moon hung in front of us like a carrot on a stick, and I started singing this song before I even realized it. Whatever the name of that super-awesome pasteup guy (Tom? I feel like it was Tom), I just want to tell him: I’m sorry, I’ve always been bad at remembering names, but I’ve never forgotten those tapes. Thank you.

3. Assa Cica - “Yokpo Wa Non Kpo Hami” 

When we were first getting into Beninese rock, it was Antoine Dougbé who pulled us down the rabbit hole. I figured we couldn’t be alone — his songs are the standouts on “Legends of Benin.” But there’s practically nothing to be found. I eventually found myself at Discogs, marveling at the sheer number of names that T.P. Orchestre Poly-Rythmo went by and sifting through music looking for signs of Dougbé. I eventually found this album, and not just the voice but the whole style of the band convinced me that Assa-Cica was somehow another name Dougbé went by. After some discussion, Paige and I bought our first Beninese record. In the weeks that it took to arrive, we learned a lot more about Dougbé, including the fact that he’s not actually the singer on those songs! But also I don’t think Assa-Cica is the singer on this song either! We did turn out to love every song on this record, but this one is my personal favorite, just a barnburner with disco roots. Every time I listen to it I try to imagine the cultural and personal forces that brought it into being, and it only gets more absorbing.

4. Eko Roosevelt - “Me To A De Try My Own”

T.P. Orchestre research also brought me to an album they did with Betti-Betti (or Beti-Beti), a Cameroonian singer whose tracks eventually led to Eko Roosevelt. I don’t get down with all of the music of his that I’ve heard, but this one just brings a smile to my face every time. I love the patois he sings in, where recognizable words rise suddenly out of the bubbling disco bass and the good-natured horn sections. I would never have guessed that hunting for African voodoo funk would eventually reveal a path to appreciating disco… but I’m glad that it has. I mean, I spent whole years of my life thinking that horns had no place in rock music, so what the hell do I know? 

5. Jacqueline Taïeb - “Le coeur au bout des doigts”

6. T.P. Orchestre Poly-Rythmo - “Non Gbeto Do Mahu Tche”

This 7” is from that rich early period of T.P. Orchestre (this one is I think from ’72) where the arrangements are hand-drum heavy but the organ and guitar are funk. The vocal is — I don’t know what it is, it’s a genre I hadn’t heard until I heard this band in this period. 

7. Los Wembler’s de Iquitos - “Llanto en la Selva”

8.  Iggy Pop “The Passenger”*

I’ve always thought this was one of Iggy Pop’s finest outside of his work with Stooges. I think I also always liked it because I am most often the passenger. I really really don’t like driving. I really avoid it. I have a driver’s license but boy do I not like to use it. There aren’t really a lot of songs about riding in the passenger seat that are positive or cool that I can think of besides this one and Art Brut’s “I Love Public Transportation”.

This album also makes me think of Shena’s old place on Damen Ave. in Wicker Park Chicago. This record and of course Bowie’s “Let’s Dance”.

 Hope you had a great birthday Shena!

9. Jacques Dutronc - “Les Gens Sont Flous”

The things that gets me about the song are: that single bass note that plunges every time in the verse, the shaker in the chorus, and that freakin triangle hit that happens on the coolest possible beat throughout the entire song. I fully intend to lift that idea into another song if I can find the right spot for it.

10. Jimi Hendrix - “Third Stone From The Sun”

This goes down as one of the greatest rock recordings in history. Every time I swoon at the guitar phrases, the bass line, the drums, the weird low chaos of his slowed down vocals. Truly a masterpiece, capped off by the final minute of beautiful noise that sounds like planets in motion.

11. Björk Gu∂mundsdóttir and tríó Guðmundar Ingólfssonar - Gling-Gló - “Bella Simamaer”

12. Ayalew Mesfin - “Gedawo (The Hero)”

The first 20 seconds of this song are crucial, because it establishes the 4/4 rhythm that’s coursing under the 3/4 handclap. That is such a killer rhythmic feel I can hardly stand it. I only wish they’d pull out the handclap in the middle, just for a handful of measures, and then bring em in again. Meanwhile, Mesfin’s vocal approach is so intense! 

Entr’Acte - “Phantom of the Opera Entr’Acte”*

We figured we needed an Entr’Acte to denote the change in vibe from trying to stay alert and amped on the turnpike to being back home in Brooklyn. Half of this broadcast was made in the front seat of the van on our drive back to NY after our recent visit to the Midwest where we stayed in the woods the majority of the time with a couple of runs to St. Louis to pick up Banh Mi So and tofu Laap. 

Evan and I have this thing we call “Disney Reptile Brain” but before that I should explain, Evan and I have this other thing we call “different high schools.” We have an age difference that we mostly don’t notice but every now and then there will be some cultural touchstone and one of us is like “What!? You don’t remember that!?” and we’re like “Ahh, different high schools!” So something like, the year 1994, Evan might remember it as when Kurt Cobain died, and I’ll remember it as the year “The Lion King” came out.

So, Evan missed all the of the major releases by Disney from that time – Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, Lion King, etc. – and thus he can see how ridiculously bad these remakes are in a way that I can’t. He says that you have to “Disney Reptile brain” to fully see the movie, that you have to have the animated version playing in your mind’s eye at the same time you're watching these “live action” remakes or they don’t make any sense. And it’s true, for me and lots of other people I know born between 1984 and 1990 we experience this when watching these films, like you already know it so well and know what’s going to happen it’s more like some sort of ritual, incantation, or reenactment of a feeling.

So, that’s Disney Reptile Brain. And if you’re like, wait, but this is Phantom of the Opera and that’s not Disney. You’re right, but it turns out Reptile Brain is a thing that can happen with musicals and ALW stuff is perfect for it. (Evita! Evita!) I am helpless when I hear this music which I got into around the same time that I was devouring Disney VHS, even though I hear it now and it’s SO. SILLY. But when I hear this melody, I’m like right there, on the boat with Christine and the Phantom. I’m like a cat picked up by the scruff and I’m just completely engrossed and I can’t unlearn that feeling. If you’ve seen Phantom at all recently, it is straight up hilarious kid stuff, like how it starts with an auction of lot #666, and the phantom is like this super moody broody guy who writes passive aggressive notes to everyone. I now can hear it as so funny and so square, but what you’re hearing on this track is my reptile brain in full effect. 

Next time this music comes around, we’ll get into how Christine is Professor X and Magnito is the Phantom...

14. Sunny Blacks Band - “Holonon Die”

Ha! I said plenty about this song on air. Suffice it to say I’ve been getting obsessed with Meloclém and his performances. It’s really hard to find out anything about him, so this early track makes me really happy. I think this is sung in Fon.

15. Yo La Tengo - “False Alarm”

Alongside “Third Stone from the Sun,” another of my all-time favorite recordings ever. Yo La Tengo was a key protein in learning about rock music, starting with the album  “Painful” and hitting a peak not just on this album but specifically this song. Alongside a vivid memory of Sean N., I helplessly air-keyboard to it, air-drum to it, dance my face off. By that final phrase I’m all worn out.

16. Meas Samon & So Savoeun - Hits Collection

We don’t really know anything about this song, including its title. It’s from a cassette called “Hits Collection.” We know Meas Samon from other sources, but I have no idea what they’re talking about and what is happening in this song, though I will say the tape warping on the entire fabric of the track is absolutely delicious.

17. Syna So Pro - “Fengyang Song”

I feel so proud of Syna So Pro and St. Louis introducing this track. The first time we saw her perform this song was live at El Leñador, and it was a knockout. She (they?) used a looping pedal situation to build this huge harmonic structure in real time. I believe she may be studying Chinese, but I know she’s studying Chinese music. There’s this and one other amazing Chinese song in addition to her many songs in English on her album “Vox.”

Nino Rota

18. Fela Kuti - “Open & Close”

I would listen to this whole song just for the Tony Allen solo in the early middle — but I also love how the song is so long that even a solo as particular as that one gets swallowed back up into the totality of the track (though he has many amazing passages throughout). The emotional equilibrium of the horns is cautiously optimistic. And I find myself thinking about the passage that goes “Let me tell you a story: open and close,” and how “open and close” is a narrative in action right there in three words. What was open has closed. It’s clearly a big change, a serious shift. Once open, now closed. Why? What changes as a result? Did anyone get hurt in the closing?

19. France Gall - “Celui Que J’aime”*

In the theme of “songs that got away” (see “Muxima”) this is one that I was thrilled to find again! I heard it on Jeff Hess’s show on KDHX many years ago. It set me on a France Gall odyssey. I bought albums and collections, and none of them had this song. I think her tone is probably my favorite female vocal tone, and she’s also one of my favorite singers in her delivery. This one is very different than some of the other stuff I associate with her but I think it’s still my favorite of hers.

20. Ely - “As Turbinas Estao Ligadas”

Now Again Records put out a collection called “Brazilian Guitar Fuzz Bananas” and it’s got as much tone as the title boasts. Credit due to “vinyl archaeologist” Joel Stones for tracking down songs like these and putting them within reach. This is one among several favorites and a true hit.

21. Tulia - “Pali się (Fire of Love)”

Speaking of true hits: welcome to the world of EuroVision, where music is a medium for international competition. This song is Poland’s entry for 2019. We spent an amazing week with our friends Phil and Archie driving between Cambridgeshire and London singing along with all of the finalists of that year’s competition. It’s a fascinating idea, this vote-based international struggle turning into a final victor that somehow expresses the zeitgeist of ALL OF THOSE COUNTRIES TOGETHER — because it’s not just Europe, it’s Israel and Australia. Also amazing is that this isn’t just some scheme cooked up in the reality TV era: this has been going on for decades. In fact, France Gall was the EuroVision winner in 1965 — for Luxembourg!

22. Luigi Tenco - “Ciao Amore Ciao”

Likewise, this song was in international competition. It was sung by Egyptian-born French superstar Dalida. We saw an eponymous movie about her at the St. Louis International Film Festival in 2017 and she was a completely engrossing character. I’m not totally sold on this song as she sings it — but I love Luigi Tenco’s version. And man what a looker! He died young by his own hand, and she died too young by her own hand, and that is about as French as it gets.

23. Marijata - “I Walk Alone”

“This Is Marijata” is the sound of Ghana in 1976. I was talking about Marijata with Josh Weinstein recently, and he reminded me of this song and how much I dig it. It’s got that slow burn organ in the background, the slightly clumsy percussion in the foreground, those freighted vocals — but when it gets to the chorus, as the organ hook gives way to the horn hook, that’s when it truly hits its stride. And by the time we disappear into the fadeout, it has become fully epic. 

24. Lijadu Sisters - “Life’s Gone Down Low” 

To my ears it really feels like this song could have been released this year, rather than in 1976. What the hell was going on in West Africa that year? I feel like we could put together a great mix of songs just from that single year from Nigeria, Ghana, Benin and Ivory Coast. The Lijadu Sisters (Taiwo and Kehinde, actual identical twins) put out their first album in 1969; by their third album, “Danger,” the source of this song, they were huge stars in Nigeria and played with Ginger Baker, Art Blakey, and so on. They eventually moved to Harlem and lived together their whole lives, until Kehinde passed a little less than a year ago. 

25. Os Kiezos - “Muxima”*

As mentioned, I heard this song in a video work by Alfredo Jaar at the Art Institute of Chicago. You can read about the piece here. I learned that “Muxima” is an Angolan folk song and in the video of the same title there are, I believe, 5 different versions of the song. One particular one – the one that pulled me into the room where the video was playing on loop – was a gorgeous vocal arrangement.  I even tried shazaming it. No dice. So I wrote it down and started looking for the song, the particular arrangement. I bought a collection of Angolan music because I saw the song on it. That’s the one you heard on this broadcast and it is a recording that I now really love. I periodically keep looking for other versions of the song, hoping I’ll come across that missing version though. I thought I got close this week when I found Duo Ouro Negro’s version. (Worth checking out!) That one from the video though, still haunts me! It’s been 9 years now, I wonder if I would recognize it but I think I would. I guess the next thing I can try is a shot in the dark email to Alfredo Jaar. This is and one other song share the top spot of “songs that got away” the other one is some beautiful song that was coming from a small radio from a group of old Puerto Rican guys who were playing cards on the sidewalk on South 3rd street in Williamsburg. We were touring through and staying with our friend in that neighborhood and as we were moving the van I heard this beautiful song coming off the sidewalk. Those guys had great taste.