#my lack of an ability to produce anything makes me want to kick the sun

[shrekgogurt]

My brain has not been very kind to me recently so I have not had the chance to write much aside from half-heartedly dragging myself through my writing heavy coursework. I have been so exhausted and anxious and honestly quite sad that even imagining little stories in my head takes too much energy. In short, things are not great over in my swamp.

Nevertheless, here are precisely six new sentences from chapter three of Escape to Space (Simon’s POV):

His face steels into nothingness again. Why does he keep doing that? What is going on inside his head? He’s locked down like a jewelry safe, designed not to easily open. I try the Niamh trick—investigating his eyes—but they’re impenetrable. I would hate to play him at poker.

Self-Indulgent Rant & Tags under the cut:

For real though…my self-talk has been atrocious. I’ve convinced myself everyone in my life secretly hates me and that I’m bad at all my crafts. I may in fact be in my Wayward Son era which is pitiful because I mean…I didn’t kill my dad or lose my magic. But…do I ever want to get out of bed????? No, that shit is cozy!!!!! And I know it’s me self-sabotaging. And I know deep down I’m capable of all the things and I’m not totally unloveable. However, I can’t bring myself to believe it enough to kickstart the inertia which drives me CRAZY. Like girl, why aren’t you doing your work when you could just…do your work??????????? Why don’t you believe people want to actually spend time with you when they’re spending time with you????????????? What’s! Not! Clicking!? I guess…you know what they say… I Shouldn’t Ghost My Therapist

Thank for the tags today and this past week @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @martsonmars @fatalfangirl @captain-aralias @technetiumai @larkral @palimpsessed @ileadacharmedlife @thewholelemon @basiltonbutliketheherb @artsyunderstudy @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @onepintobean @ivelovedhimthroughworse @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @aristocratic-otter @confused-bi-queer + a bonus @raenestee simply because I adore you. I’m sorry if I don’t know some of y’all well and forced you to wade through my whining.

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Dionysus

Hey y’all, sorry for going dark! I’m alright, almost completely recovered in fact! I just got so sleepy while my body was fighting stuff off and couldn’t really work up the energy to write... Still going to be spotty for a short time, but I’m glad to have gotten this done. See ya soon!

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus

Lucifer

Well, this mortal stumbled out of the portal covered in glitter, body paint, and carrying a red solo cup… which they proceeded to stare at like, "'ell sshhit… Thiz iz sum stron s'uff…"

First impressions were not on their side here.

He spent a depressingly long amount of time more or less assuming that the MC was a drunken f-up and spent the first few months trying to make them more… presentable.

But like… How do you stop someone from acting like a drunk fool when they can turn any drink they touch alcoholic???

For months they would show up to meetings buzzed or stumbling, all smiles and all giggles but HORRIBLY unprofessional, and he just couldn't stand it!

But then he found out their little secret…

Assassination threats befall the exchange students all the time. Most of them are dealt with quickly but some (through skill or dumb luck) manage to slip through...

He had been walking with the MC through their new vineyard in the House's courtyard, yet again trying to lecture them about their drunken behavior, when suddenly the two were ambushed!

Ten or so heavily armored demons dropped down from the sky to attack them! Lucifer was so preoccupied that he got cornered by three of them and it took him a hot minute to destroy them.

When he looked back at the mortal (who had been fighting a 1-on-7) he was certain they'd have been kidnapped or worse…

But he saw that they had already cut down two attackers with their weapon with ease. The other five were rolling in the dirt, babbling about inexplicable terrors and imaginary pain as their minds succumbed to madness…

Meanwhile, the MC just stood in the middle of it all with the icy glare of someone who’s just revealed how stone-cold sober they've always been under the surface...

When they turned back to him, they put their usual ditzy smile back on over the tormented wails of the demons around them...

MC: Whoopsie… Gotta little mad there. 🙂

He uh… took a big ol'step off their back after that. Surprisingly, they're more pleasant (and less dangerous) "drunk" than they are sober…

Mammon

Oh HELL yeah!! Lucifer actually gave him a mortal that knows how to party!!

Admittedly, they looked like utter trash when they first met, like, "Hey, I've been at this party since DAWN" trash, but they gave him one good look and pulled together a surprisingly hot smile.

MC: "-ey yer cute… Ya like strip poker?"

Spoken like someone else who also makes shit decisions… They were going to get along just fine!

And they did. The MC to him was that one friend that's always down for anything. Just anything. Whenever. Wherever.

He wants to try sneaking into Lucifer's room to steal stuff? Sure, what time?

He wants to take a mattress and see if he can ride it down the grand staircase of the palace? Alright, we bringin' pillows too?

He needs to set up another scheme that's gotta involve live rats and box of tiny hats and monocles?? That's oddly specific but count them in!!

Sometimes he honestly can't tell if they're laid back or just crave chaos... but it works out fine for him either way so who cares? 🤷‍♀️

And if you think normal Mammon is a pain in the ass for Lucifer? Check out drunk Mammon. All the same urges but literally none of the (marginal) competence!!

At one point, the eldest ended up stringing both Mammon and the MC from the ceiling after they both barged into his office looking for Goldie… while he was still in there… watching them wander around aimlessly calling out for a piece of plastic like it was a missing puppy…

They end up together on the ceiling a lot come to think of it, but hey, at least now he has some company. 😌

Leviathan

Thinks they're the most normal normie to have ever normed on this normie planet!!!

No, seriously. They're a billion times worse than Asmo!! All they want to do is go to parties and drink all the time! What kind of use is he to someone like that??

… That being said they ARE pretty fun to be around… And their sake is WAY better than anything he could get off Akuzon!!

They also like karaoke too! So at least he has someone else to go with (even if they get so drunk they can’t remember any lyrics and just belt barely coherent discount Mariah Carey vocals behind him...)

Of course, the real fun between these two is everybody else getting to watch a couple of the Devildom's sloppiest drunks attempt to communicate with each other…

Levi: MMM-*hic*-MCCC…!!! *throws himself at them from across the bar*

MC: What Leviachan??? 😨 Did the chair kick you off?!

Levi: Nooo! *pokes their cheek* I wanna-I wanna tell you sometin'...! *tries pulling them closer*

MC: Whaa? Secrets?? *leans in eagerly*

Levi: Mammon used all ma money on’a pyramid scheme a thou-zand years ago… AND HE STILL WON'T PAY ME BAAA-!!! 😭😭 *starts shaking them violently*

MC: *getting flung around like a limp noodle* Waaaat?! Nooo!!! I'm so sowwy!! 😢

Mammon: *watching it all go down right next to him* 😑 Ya guys need some water… I'm cuttin' ya off, got it?

MC: 😱 Shut yer whore mouth, criminal!! *starts pelting him with pretzel bites*

Levi: 😤 Yah!! *joins in*

Good thing he's a shut-in, because the hangovers he gets after those escapades are unreal…

Satan

A little concerned for their liver, honestly… How much damage have they already done to the poor thing...?

But at the same time, he'll be damned if they don't make some utterly fantastic wine!

Alcokinesis wasn't a power he would have pegged a demigod to have but apparently the great art of making drinks comes from their godly DNA.

When they first met, he was trying to get the MC to act less slovenly but made the mistake of agreeing to a wager: he'd let them dress however they pleased if they could give him the BEST drink he'd ever tasted.

Now, Satan isn't a huge drinker (thank you terrible alcohol tolerance), but he's still a man of fine tastes. Plus, he's sampled Demonus from Diavolo royal stock before. They should not have won…

But on that day, he had to let them go to RAD in a pink blanket toga... 😑 Their wine is just THAT good.

He hates to admit it, but they've gotten him drunk more times than he could probably count too… He's not a huge fan of clubbing with them and the others, but if they bring over a bottle from their vineyard he just can't resist. They're a master of their craft, truly.

And it's a good thing he likes their drinks so much, because if they called him, "Kitty-boy," when he's sober, he may have just become a sour grape himself…

They also may or may not have copious amounts of blackmail material of him either meowing between sentences, sobbing over some fictional character he likes, pole dancing on dares….

Yeah, he's been trying to destroy their phone for months now. If Lucifer were to see ANY of that, he's done for… 😣

He has also been meaning to ask them about other aspects of their abilities, their father is also the God of Madness after all, but anytime he tries to bring it up they shove another glass in his hand and tell him not to kill the mood...

Eh. What's the harm in having another drink, right? 🤷‍♀️

Asmodeus 

Honey. He's MET Dionysus. He's been to a Dio-party or two and they're INSANE. He could not be more thrilled by this!!!

He practically scooped them up on the first night that they were in the House and it’s practically been a nonstop rave between these two ever since. They’re like the party twin he never knew he needed!!

He absolutely abuses their ability to turn pretty much any drink they touch into alcohol at clubs. It makes the nights so much easier on the wallet PLUS it makes an excellent little party trick to impress the succubi! Who doesn’t want a free drink? 😏

And can he just say that their drinks are better? Just flat out amazing! If it weren’t so unhealthy he’d consider drinking nothing but their booze and wine for the rest of his days, Satan’s certainly getting close to it.

But little does Satan know, he’s not even getting the GOOD stuff...

There’s the normal wine: grapes picked from the vineyard, hand squeezed, then magically helped through the fermenting process. But their real good stuff? They were given enchanted oak barrels from their father and anything that comes out of those is worth starting a WAR over. 😩

He knows, because he gifted an extra bottle to Diavolo once and Barbs came to him the very next day demanding to know what vineyard had produced it with the look of man willing to annex a small nation...

Asmo had to beg Lucifer to talk to Diavolo after the butler more or less kidnapped the MC back to the Castle… Devil knows even Barbs wouldn’t ever be able to reproduce their wine, so they could have been locked there for eternity!!

Thankfully, he got his party-buddy back and their debauchery continued! (Just now with Barbatos following them around sometimes like he’s trying to gather state secrets... It’s an impossible task but he hasn’t given up yet, bless his black heart.)

Beelzebub

He isn't much bothered by their carefree nature, at least they seem to be having fun with his family which he appreciates. 🙂

To be honest, though, he nearly ate them when they first met because they smell like freshly peeled grapes… and for good reason.

By their third day at the House they had (somehow) planted and cultivated a full on vineyard in the courtyard. Hell, the wall growing to their bedroom balcony was covered in grapevines!! Always ripe and completely healthy in defiance of the lack of sun... Whatever magic they used was strong.

And, of course, their grapes were also delicious! Easily among the best fruits he's ever tasted! Every cluster is ridiculously plump, juicy, and sweet like little droplets of pure Heaven… 🤤

When their fruit first ripened, the MC came out with a basket to collect some only to find Beel had gouged himself on over half of their crop!!!

… which may have been why he got snared up on one of the courtyard walls by pissed off grapevines... Even with all his strength, he couldn't break through them and had to wait for Lucifer to cut him down… 😔 

From then on, Beel was pretty much the pesky rabbit to the MC's harvest. They had to set up traps and magical barriers to keep him from their precious grapes…!! Which inevitably meant one of his brothers had to come rescue him from their furious vines at least once a week... 🙄

SOMETIMES, the MC will bring him along to help harvest with them with the deal that he can have an extra basket for however many he helps them pick. But the second he takes a bite he shouldn't, it’s back on the wall!

Out of the vineyard, they're nice enough. But put some grapes between these two and they're mortal enemies… STOP messing with their plants, Beel!! 😤

Belphegor 

So… this drunken fool is supposed to get him out of the attic? Never mind, this is never going to work…

He was SEVERELY underwhelmed when the "human" finally made it up the steps. This was who they decided to bring for their exchange program? They seemed like they could barely stand!

Naturally, he figured all the better for him. They probably wouldn't even last that long! 

Some poor, incompetent human falling victim to a demon out there? Diavolo's reputation would in tatters and he wouldn't even have to lift a finger! (His favorite way of doing things really 😌).

But… they just kept coming back? Like. Nothing was killing them….! How guarded were they keeping this moron?? 

Or… maybe it was something else?

Sure, the MC seemed like a drunken idiot but there were times when he'd swear that they were just… too aware to be sloshed…

MC: *suddenly stops smiling at him mid-conversation and looks him in the eye* You tilt your head when you lie. You know that?

How can someone so cheerful ALSO be so unnerving…?

So really, he should have seen their sudden heel-turn after they opened the door coming. There he was, fully intending to take them by surprise and choke them after a hug…

...and they knocked him down, climbed onto his back like a spider monkey, and rode him around like a bucking bull using his horns like handlebars!!

It wouldn’t have been AS humiliating if they didn’t also keep shouting things like "Giddiyap!" And "Yee-haw!!"

It took him a whole month to be sure that any and all footage of that nightmare was erased and he STILL hates the MC quite a bit for it…. But he's too scared to attack them now, so…

The lesson here? It's not a fair fight when one side’s crazy... 😔😒

[teddy-bear-surprise]

Chapter 2: The First Assignment

Link to the table of contents and disclaimers: 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐲 ✷ 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢

A/N: Sorry for the long wait :( I just started writing the third chapter so that should be up relatively soon too... It was supposed to be a part of this chapter but I had to separate it bc google docs starts crapping out after like 10 pages

Mitch and Marcel exited the foyer after a long introduction and walked along the clean marble hallway. As Stilinski followed Marcel, he cautiously scanned the walls admiring the outdated yet stylish design. The heels of his oxfords clicked vibrantly with each stride, echoing against the tall ceiling. As their steps approached Genevieve’s hiding spot, she scampered back into her sanctuary. She stole a quick glance into the hallway, locking eyes with Mitch.

The sudden and unintended eye contact with Celestin’s daughter drove a stake through Mitch’s heart and invoked the dozens of warnings that Didier and Hurley had drilled into his head the prior week. Whatever you do, Stilinski, don’t engage with his daughter. Hey, Stilinski, remember that Marcel Celestin will literally rip you to pieces if you fuck up. Don’t forget: if Celestin even suspects you might be interested in his daughter, you’re deader than dead.

Mitch averted his eyes and gave his head a quick shake, ridding himself of the ridiculous internal commentary. He clearly understood the severity and danger of his employment, but he struggled to wrap his head around the notion of a father as overprotective as Marcel. Mitch never had anyone worry about him like that. When he joined the CIA, he was only able to do so because of his complete lack of family, friends, and life. He had always seen himself as expandable to a certain extent. Stilinski would put his life on the line, time after time, because he just could not fathom anything more important than his mission. In attempting to understand Marcel’s neuroticism, Mitch realized that Marcel’s mission was handing off his “business” to Genevieve, and that– like him– Marcel would stop at nothing to see his mission through. Even so, Mitch questioned the validity of the horror stories he had been bombarded with regarding the Celestins.

A lock snapped loudly, bringing Mitch out of his trance, as another one of Marcel’s employees opened the door for them to enter Marcel’s grand office. The walls were lined with glimmering trophies from Marcel’s past and photographs of him and Genevieve; Mitch was struck with surprise to see a mafioso’s office look so ordinary. The floor here was no longer made of stone and was instead a smooth dark wood. In the center of the room there lay a large, illustrious rug with a heavy mahogany desk sitting atop it. On the wall behind the desk, two grand windows brightened the room and gave it life.

Marcel continued walking in front of Stilinski, making his way to the looming chair behind the desk. He sat himself down, motioning across the desk, and told Mitch to take a seat. Mitch pulled out a chair and rested his body weight on the arm as he lowered himself onto the seat. He then leaned forward and looked at Marcel, waiting for further instruction.

“Stilinski,” Celestin began, “After Didier assesses your physical abilities today, I have a job for you. Tomorrow, I want you to take my daughter, Genevieve, to Paris. It’s been years since she’s been to the city and I’m having a soireè next week so she needs a new outfit. Your job is simple, keep her alive, make sure she gets something nice, and obviously don’t fuck up.”

“Of course, Sir. It would be my pleasure.” Mitch replied immediately, though his mind was churning.

“Let’s consider this a gesture of good faith. You get her there and back in one piece and you get to keep your job, you fail and… Well, I think you know what happens then, don’t you?”

Stilinski took a deep breath, “Yes, Sir. I am aware. Thank you for this opportunity, I won’t let you down.”

Celestin nodded his head towards the door, indicating that Mitch should leave. “Good, I wouldn’t want to lose another half-decent guard to incompetency.”

Mitch nodded while he got up and walked to the door. As he reached for the knob, the door swung open and he came face to face with Genevieve. Again. He looked down at her, unintentionally, before quickly backing away and letting her pass in front of him. She kept her eyes on him for another second before waltzing towards her father’s desk.

“One of the guards gave me a note telling me to meet you down here, what’s going on?”

“You know what, Genevieve, you got here just in time. Stilinski, stay here for just another minute and shut the door, will you?”

Stilinski closed the door again, “Yes, Sir.”

“Genevieve, I want you to meet our newest guard, Mitch Stilinski. He’s going to take you into Paris tomorrow to pick some things up for the event I’m planning for next weekend.”

Genevieve turned and glared at Mitch, slightly squinting her eyes, “Really?”

She had not meant it in a rude way, but she was truly shocked that her father would let the ‘new guy’ take her into the city.

“Sorry,” Genevieve continued. “That sounds like a brilliant idea father.”

Marcel smirked and waved his hand, dismissing the both of them. Mitch re-opened the door, holding it open for Genevieve. She walked past him without so much as a glance. Genevieve slipped back into the library, slamming the door loudly behind her.

Mitch, as confused as ever, shut Marcel’s door quietly. He walked rapidly away, trying to figure out where the gym was. He eventually found it, the first door to the right of the foyer, and saw Didier patiently waiting inside. Didier was leaning against a padded wall, wrapping his hands, dressed in a black t-shirt and sweatpants.

Didier greeted him nonchalantly, “So, Stilinski, how’s the first day going?”

“It could be better. Celestin already gave me an assignment and I don’t know if I’m anywhere near ready to take on this kind of responsibility.”

“Well then, you better learn soon.” He chuckled at the quip and rolled his eyes, “I kinda figured that out on my own, Axel. I’m gonna go change but I’ll be back in a minute.”

Stilinski stumbled into the locker room, trying to find the locker with his number on it. When he had been tattooed with the crow on his neck, he was assigned a number. Mitch had been given the number 7 following the death of the original number 7 in a gruesome shoot-out. The number was hidden within the bird’s eye, forever marking him as one of Celestin’s disciples. He scanned up, down, and across until the number 7 caught his eye. It was hidden in the far right corner of the locker room and when he opened it, it contained the same black shirt, pants, and hand wraps that Didier had. Mitch carefully took off his suit, hanging it in the locker, and put on the black ensemble. He wrapped his hands quickly as he walked out of the locker room.

Mitch and Axel sparred for over an hour, neither one could seem to knock the other down long enough to win. It seemed that, though years ago, Hurley’s training had stuck in their minds. Both of their hands were covered in bruises beneath the wraps, only a few punches away from dislocating a knuckle. They panted heavily as they threw punches and kicked at each other with sweat dripping into their eyes. Mitch approached Axel, hoping to win the match with a final punch, but Didier was more experienced and used Mitch’s own momentum against him. He punched Stilinski sharply in the jaw, knocked him onto his back, and held him down with one knee.

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1… I win!” Didier lifted his knee from Mitch’s chest as he stood up.

“You know,” Began Stilinski, “I would normally be mad that you beat me, but I’m so tired right now that I couldn’t care less.”

“Yeah right, Stilinski. I know I hurt your ego.” He held a hand out to Mitch.

Stilinski stood up, “I’m serious, the jet lag, the sparring, and the weird threats… I’m exhausted from all this shit and it’s only day one.”

“You’ll get used to it. Why don’t you tell me more about this new assignment of yours while we do a few miles on the treadmill?”

“Great, running and talking. My two favorite things. I’ll agree to it this once, but only because I don’t have the slightest fucking idea about what to do tomorrow.”

A few rooms down, Genevieve continued obsessively daydreaming about her outing to Paris. She could hardly even remember what stores she used to shop at in the city, let alone how to dress for an event as nice as the one her father was planning. Along the bottom row of the library shelves, there was a handful of fashion magazines, they were all a few seasons old but she figured they would hold up well enough. After all, how much could fashion really change?

Genevieve leafed through the pages, dog-earing the outfits she thought might be appropriate for the occasion. She closed her eyes, letting the sun seep through her eyelids as she pictured herself walking down the long staircase in a shimmering sage dress.

In her mind, the ideal dress would be fuller than full, putting at least two feet between her and everyone else; it was to have a laced corset bodice covered in lilac petals and small beads; and the straps would hang loosely off of her shoulders, brushing her skin ever so slightly. Unfortunately, however, Genevieve knew that it would be impossible to find such a dress on such short notice. She continued flipping through dozens of magazines until dinnertime, jotting down the names of certain shops and designers that were based in Paris, and hoped that one of them might be able to produce a miracle. Soon after, Genevieve’s night came to a close and she drifted off to sleep dreaming about the following day’s adventures.

“Genevieve, my darling, it’s time for you to get up. You’ve got to go into the city to find an outfit. Remember?”

Marcel sat down on Geveieve’s bed, rubbing her shoulder softly. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. At only seven in the morning, the sun had just begun it’s work and shone weakly along the horizon. Its rays reflected off of the curtains and into Genevieve’s eyes, causing her to turn away from the window.

“Yes, I remember.” She sighed with uncertainty, “Papà, I’m not quite sure I’m up for this today. This seems like such a big step to take… for me, and for the new guard.”

Genevieve’s stomach churned and her heart began beating quickly. Suddenly, it felt like the whole world– despite its beauty– had put her into a chokehold. She breathed with shallow gasps, never seeming to get enough oxygen. Her arms grew weak and she laid back down, praying that the horrible feeling would subside.

Her father’s eyebrows furrowed together, “You’ll be okay, my darling. I would never let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Marcel got up and opened Genevieve’s door, calling out for someone to bring a glass of water.

“But what if something did happen? What if…”

Marcel cut her off, “I know you’re anxious. I know, but give it an hour, and then you can decide if you want to go or not.”

His words, while not very helpful, provided some comfort. For some reason, Genevieve had a nasty habit of developing nauseating anxiety in the early morning. It had been happening since she was a child, but as she had not woken up before nine am in many years, she had grown unaccustomed to the feeling. It used to just set her back by a few minutes, only occasionally proving to be a real problem. Now, however, Genevieve felt like she had been hit by a two-ton garbage truck.

The same man who had brought her lunch yesterday walked in with a tall glass of water. He handed it to Genevieve who sipped on it slowly.

“Well, I’ll be in my office if you need anything. I’ll check back in an hour to see how you are. Sebastien, let’s go.” Her father patted her head and walked out, Sebastien closing the door behind them.

Genevieve sat up and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply and naming everything in her vicinity. She saw her bed, her hands, the door, the windows, and the glass of water on her bedside table. Her skin felt the cool fabric of her bed, the cold glass between her palms, the single feather poking out of her pillow, and the wall behind her head. Her ears could pick out the faint sound of voices outside, birds chirping, and the wind blowing. With each inhale, she could smell breakfast being made in the kitchen mixing with the fresh scent of her bedsheets. Taking a sip of water, she noted that she didn’t quite taste anything, but that always seemed to happen when she got to the last step.

During the next fifty-five minutes Genevieve’s breath became more natural and her heartbeat slowed. Still leaning against the wall, she bent over to place the empty water glass on her bedside table, wondering why she held onto it for so long. Her father came in soon after as if he had telepathically sensed her newfound calm.

He sat beside her, taking her hand in his, “So, was I right? Are you feeling better now, Genevieve?”

“Yeah, I guess I do feel better.” She let a small smirk take over her face.

“See, daughter, all you needed was some time. That is our most precious resource. Not our money, not our network, not our assassins… It’s the one we take the most for granted, our time. One day, you’ll see just how little time we really have.” Marcel let go of her hand, “Now, you go on into the city to find something nice to wear.”

Genevieve stood up and ushered her father out. She figured it was time to get dressed since she had already wasted so much time. After changing, she brushed her teeth and rushed downstairs, hoping to make the most of her time. While Genevieve was not necessarily excited to be going shopping, it was an opportunity that she had not been able to experience in a long time.

Her father led her to a car that was waiting out front with Mitch behind the wheel. He tilted his head down by an inch when he noticed her as a sign of respect. Genevieve slid into the back seat quietly, pulling her backpack over her knees. As she looked back towards him, Marcel shut the car door and gave her a soft smile. He patted the side of the car and Mitch slowly drove away, the sounds of gravel crunching beneath the tires. Genevieve turned solemnly towards her home, watching it shrink into the horizon. This outing was a new type of adventure for both herself and Mitch, and neither of them knew what to expect.

[jasongthompson365]

24 Hours

I woke up in the dark, cocooned by cardboard boxes. I sent signals to my toes to wiggle, as I breathed in deeply. My arms were across my chest, vampire-like, not for any effect, but out of need within the cramped space. My combat boots were by my feet, removed to prevent sweating and rot. I had propped my head up the night before with my duffel bag, full of clothes, and had fallen asleep with a knife in my hand, but it had since dropped by my left side. For warmth I had my leather jacket, and the garbage bags lining the cardboard boxes that I had fitted together, like a kid would connect straws, forcing one end inside of another. I grabbed my knife before I crawled out of the boxes, slithering and jerking to free myself, seeing the gray light of morning and feeling the fresh, crisp air on my nostrils and in my lungs. I stood slowly, stretching out the stiffness, a by product of sleeping on the hard surface, and then grabbed the boxes, shaking my boots loose and onto the rooftop. I had a very simple philosophy when it came to homelessness; disappear. Rooftops, storm drains, abandoned buildings. Any place where people tend not to rest their gaze, or even consider. I stayed away from the shelters because of the thieves and violence. I kept clear of the tent cities, as I liked my privacy. I had been squatting with a couple of other people in an abandoned building, but everyone had moved on, so the solo methods kicked in. Not that I minded. I needed some alone time to clear my head, to revert to a more natural, animalistic state, where the only concern was survive. Any other thoughts were subsumed by a primal directive-be invisible as much as possible. I put on my jacket and the boots, then broke the boxes down. I had the boxes the night before, from the Subway sandwich shop on P Street. They kept them behind a gate in the alley that I had to climb over to get to, but I was fairly agile, and light. I had scaled more than one rooftop, shimmying up pipes and ladders. After I had thrown the boxes over the gate, I raided the trash cans, looking for fairly clean garbage bags. The garbage bags kept the heat in, and the rain out. I had used a dumpster to climb onto the roof with the boxes and bags, then assembled my makeshift hotel. Now I had to reverse the process. Leave no trace. Become the Nowhere Man. After I had surveyed the ground around the roof I jumped down to the dumpster, then the hard concrete of the alley. I was not a great jumper, and always felt the jarring impact. I threw the boxes back over the gate, and shoved the garbage bags into the dumpster. I was ready to start the day now. I walked out of the alleyway, looking for signs from the traffic to tell the time of day. The sun was creeping slowly, illuminating the top floors of the buildings more than the streets, and the traffic was intermittent. I knew the flood of the morning commute would come quickly, bringing the attendant foot traffic. I had successfully grown in tune with the environment, waking in time to get what I needed. I had a couple of minutes to get across Dupont Circle and start panhandling. Dupont was slowly coming to life, with a few cars making their way and a couple of walkers, spread out and moving in different directions. I stepped across the circle in a matter of moments, heading to my favorite corner in front of Vesuvio’s Pizza. The foot traffic was becoming fuller, so I waited. A commuter bought a paper and I asked him if I could grab one before the door locked shut on the box. He said sure, and as he walked off, I grabbed all of the papers, intending to sell them for less. As the street filled, I began to panhandle. “Spare change? I’m tryin’ ta get somethin’ to eat.” If they said no, or ignored me, I’d offer, “Newspaper! 10 cents!” A couple of the working stiffs laughed at that, but only a couple bought them. I had tested the market and found it lacking, so decided never to do that again. After the streets had quieted again, outside of the steady motor traffic, I had made about 15 bucks. Not bad for 45 minutes of work, but not as lucrative as the day before. I was happy to disengage, to end interaction with a different world than my own. To them, I was an anomaly, a misplaced piece of gravel, rough and broken, on a pristine walkway. To me, they were a horde, in pressed shirts, with the alcohol smell of mouthwash covering their base nature. I didn’t hate them. I didn’t like them. They were one of several currents in the flowing river of the city, useful for fishing out a few dollars in the morning. I needed a shower. The heat of the day before, plus the natural oils my body produced in the evening had left me with that not so fresh feeling. My working friends who would let me shower and often crash, were out earning the money that gave them the ability to afford such things as showers, and shelter. I needed something more immediate. The hotel. Getting in required waiting for the lobby to clear. There was a single bathroom behind the front desk,  near the restaurant, that I had used before. The odds of getting caught were high, which I didn’t like, but I didn’t want to compound the stench I was developing throughout the day, plus I had to brush my teeth. The lobby cleared, and I walked quickly through the glass door, and made a bee line for the bathroom. I opened the wooden door for the toilet, then closed and locked it behind me. I had to move quickly. I ruffled through my bag to find my toothbrush, and a set of clean clothes. I stripped naked and shoved my dirty clothes into a plastic grocery bag before putting them into the duffel. I had to keep them separate so the odor would not transfer. They would be washed in a bath tub or a laundry mat later. I ran the toothbrush under the water, then the soap dispenser, and shoved it into my mouth. I scrubbed my teeth vigorously.  I put the toothbrush back into the ziploc, and tossed it into the duffel. My heart rate was elevated, so I took a deep breath. “Move precisely, but calmly.” I told myself, forcing my heart and mind to slow down. I took a step toward the paper towel dispenser.  It was full of the stiff, brown paper, in a single roll. I started hitting the lever over and over, creating a long trail of paper. I took the paper and ripped it into several pieces, which I balled up. I grabbed one of them and got it wet in the faucet, then put it under the soap dispenser. I rubbed the soap into the wad, then washed myself. I had to repeat the process several times to get everything, then had to do it again sans soap, to wash the soap off. The final step was cleanup. Leave no trace. The whole process probably took 10-15 minutes. Before I could get dressed someone knocked on the door. “Who’s in there?” “I’ll be done in a minute.” I said, as calmly as possible. I had almost made it, and didn’t like the intrusion. I started dressing quickly, happy to at least have gotten clean before being discovered. “Open the door! You don’t belong in there!” “Hold on.” I said as I put my boots on. I knew I had to open the door, and didn’t know who I was going to face. I laced my boots up, listening to the voice on the other side of the door become more angry and demanding. I stood up, took a breath, let it out, and opened the door. The man on the other side stared awkwardly. I stood there, in my boots and leather jacket, with my bag over my shoulder, staring back at him, every sense alive. He was blocking the doorway. “You don’t belong in here!” I walked toward him, silently, without hesitation. He stepped back, not sure what to do, which created the space I needed to walk past him. I could feel his presence as I brushed by, and it was inconsequential. He wasn’t going to do anything. I headed for the door, my momentum carrying me into another moment devoid of the encounter. The man screamed at my back, but his words had no meaning. I hit the bright street, full of sunshine, and made my way to Habib’s. I can’t remember if the store was actually called Habib’s, but Habib ran it, and he never carded any of us. He also sold the cheapest vodka in town. I bought a pint for later, and hid it in my leather jacket, the inside pocket. I had some vodka at Johnny’s, but I needed a pint bottle, and 2 bucks was nothing. Next was breakfast. I walked over to the McDonald’s and grabbed a couple of biscuits, and water. The spot in front of the grocery store across the street was a good panhandling spot, if you didn’t get booted. I could make 30-40 bucks in a couple of the afternoon hours, but I had what I needed. I wandered the city for a few hours, making my way down to the record shop. I flipped through the CD’s, records, and books, staring at the things I would never buy. Back on the street, I stared at faces that had their own stories, or non-stories. Vacant eyes and lives. I couldn’t fathom being them. I headed downtown, hoping to hit the food truck. I was now in full public territory. None of my friends were close by. This wasn’t my neighborhood. The bums and assorted crazies were out in force, so I knew I had to watch my back. Years ago, I felt more at home on this side of town. I had been running with a crowd of around ten homeless kids. I say “around” because people would come and go. As a pack, we were unstoppable. The other homeless weren’t organized, so weren’t a threat. The crazies were always a threat, but ten beats one. Tourists were harmless, and we would either find ways to amuse ourselves by tormenting them, ignore them, or we would panhandle. One of our favorite methods for getting money from them was to charge them for pictures. If we caught one taking our picture we would turn our backs to them. If they persisted in trying to photograph us we would surround them and tell them they didn’t have our permission to take our pictures. This was a lie. They didn’t legally need our permission, but they were usually compliant when we told them it would cost them a dollar. One nice guy actually bought us lunch, and we sat eating with his family. Now, here I was alone, surveying the congregation, waiting for the food truck to deliver the life sustaining Eucharist. The disheveled masses, dirty and unwashed. A veritable Babylon of humanity, muttering to each other and themselves, all hoping for more than the normal sandwich. If we scored a cup of soup we were lucky. The sandwiches were anemic at best, and tasted better dipped in the soup. The problem with the soup was if they ran out. The guy in line when that would happen would inevitably raise hell. I didn’t give a shit. It wasn’t like I was paying. I got in line. A dirty  rasta guy got in behind me. He started talking shit almost immediately, and my hackles raised. I turned my head to him, only to discover that his vitriol was directed at my jacket. He was having a conversation with the words on my coat. “BLITZ. THE FINAL SOLUTION. RAZORS IN THE NIGHT.” Blitz was an Oi! band from England. The other words were titles of songs. I decided to ignore him, but stayed on the alert in case he decided my coat was shit talking his mother. I finally got my food. It consisted of a flimsy peanut butter sandwich, and the treasured cup of soup. I walked away from the group, wanting to distance myself, not just from the potential issues, but the smell. I wanted to eat without gagging on the air around me, so I chose an isolated spot in the grass.     It wasn’t isolated for long. A native American guy sat down to the right of me, which piqued my interest, as I’d always been fascinated by American Indian cultures.  He was shirtless, long hair, mid 20’s, from what I could tell. He had a tattoo that read, “DOG SOLDIER.” I knew the Dog Soldiers were a warrior band, but I didn’t know which nation they belonged to, so I asked. “Cheyenne.” he answered, focused on eating. He was soon followed by a black man, who sat to his right. Things looked like they might get interesting. I was looking forward to whatever conversation followed. It didn’t happen. We were interrupted by a large black man screaming. “You ain’t homeless, cracka! You just takin’ from us!” We all looked at him, as he stared at me. Shit. “Why you muthafuckas sittin’ wit’ that white boy?” The black man who had sat with us told him to shut the fuck the up. I started to devour my food. “Lookit him eatin’ our food!” The black man near us got up. “I told you to shut the fuck up!” As they started fighting, the Cheyenne and I got up, and left in different directions, with me shoveling food into my face. I watched the fight as I left. It wasn’t too serious. The interloper was afraid of the man who had sat near us, and kept backing up, out of distance. Either way, I didn’t want police attention, so just kept walking back toward Dupont Circle. I appreciated the man standing up, but it seemed that they knew each other, and a lot of it had to do with him being tired of hearing his shit. I didn’t need the complications or chaos. Once back, I lazily panhandled, more to occupy my time until John came home. When he did, I walked over to his apartment. I drank some of the vodka and orange juice I had left there, until I felt loose and warm. Our evening plans were simple, a regular routine. Hit the club two blocks away and drink the night away. This meant listening to shitty industrial music all night, probably played by DJ Mohawk Adam. There was a dirth of punk clubs in the early 90’s, and very few punks living in the city. Most of the clubs played industrial. The goth and industrial folks were nice enough, and some of them were cool, including Adam, but I hated that fucking music. I had watched a live video of Ministry’s, and liked it well enough. It was a good show. My problem was the problem all people have with the music that follows theirs, it seems like it all sounds the same. Either way, open bar was open bar, and people usually bought me drinks afterward. The bartender would throw some free ones my way, plus I had my pint of vodka in my pocket. I had no fear of being searched by the bouncers, and usually got in on the guest list. I was going to drink my mind away. We spent the night glued to the bar. When open bar ended I ordered some water, chugged it, then went into the bathroom and filled the glass with my vodka. When that was depleted, I had some drinks sent my way from various people, and finished the night earlier than usual, tired of the noise, and physically drained from walking all day, and a poor diet. On my way out, someone told me about the Rodney King verdict. Rodney King was a criminal, and had led the police on a chase, before being apprehended and thoroughly beaten on the street by them. The police were acquitted, which set off rioting in L.A., and apparently there were roving bands of blacks causing mayhem all over D.C. “Be careful.” Red Steve said as I left. I was only going a block over to my rooftop, so wasn’t too concerned. I hit the street and breathed in the night air. It wasn’t fresh. The smell of smoke lingered, and a helicopter was flying low nearby. My senses came alive. I was instantly sober. I passed one alley and saw a group of about 5 black males on the other side of the block. One of them yelled, “We gonna fuck up some white folks tonight!” The proclamation was met with shouts of approval. I hurried past the alley before they could see me, and ran down the street to the alley where I slept, where I accessed the roof. I jumped the cage and gathered my boxes, stopping periodically to listen for trouble. The helicopter was closer. I knew I couldn’t get trapped in the cage and had to get to the roof. I climbed back out, grabbed some garbage bags, without the care for cleanliness that I normally used. I threw everything on top of the dumpster, climbed up, then threw it all on the roof. I assembled everything quickly. My bag was at John’s, so I used my jacket for my pillow. For added warmth, I tucked my arms into my shirt. I listened to the noise of city; the traffic, the shouting. I closed my eyes, and let the sound of the helicopters rotors sing me into a fitful sleep.

I woke the next morning, hung over, and in need of water. I was exhausted from not sleeping well. I crawled out from the boxes, and sat there for a moment, restoring needed oxygen to my body. I stared at the gray light, slowly brightening, looked at the sky, and wondered what was waiting for me today.

[emberbent]

Book 1: Fire | Chapter 5: Nightmares and Storms

Morning. Muted light came through the little window in her room, rousing Shinza from a bleak, colorless, soundless nightmare: in it, she had watched herself as something from inside her oozed out in sticky black tendrils from her eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. Her scarred fingers clawed at the floor in clumsy resistance, but her face remained expressionless. 

Shinza found herself sitting up in bed, having a hard time coming to wakefulness and shrugging off the hideous dread the nightmare had brought. She’d always been good at interpreting her own dreams and even the dreams of others she was close to, but this one was too unsettling to try to unpack; instead, she slipped out of bed, dressed, and went for a walk.

Deep purple clouds roiled angrily and obscured the sun, muting the normally vibrant colors of the shore. The waves, agitated as if in response to the threatening sky, crashed against the beach. The salty wind picked up in speed. Standing on the shore, facing the horizon with his fists balled up, stood Amrit. Shinza traversed across the rust-colored sand toward him, realizing she recognized that posture - the one he took on when deep in thought. As she passed the rocks, several dragon-iguanas locked eyes with her and watched her walk past.

Amrit heard her approach, but he didn’t acknowledge her right away. She came to stand beside him, looking out into the sea, trying to find whatever he was looking at. Finally, he said, “We would have been married twelve years today. My kids would have been turning turning ten soon.”

Suddenly, Shinza understood. Where they were standing was exactly where he’d lost Gao and their unborn children, and where he’d lost his limb trying to get them back. It was hard to think about. She looked down at the tide, rushing over their feet. Grains of red sand caught in the fine scrollwork of The Leg’s metal foot. She could easily imagine Amrit as a loving husband and father, laughing and joking with his wife and trudging across the floor of his home with one child clinging to each leg. The sudden starkness of him by himself in contrast made Shinza’s heart ache for him.

She put her hand on his shoulder, and he gratefully put his hand on top of hers. “I can’t imagine how badly you must be hurting,” she said.

“Have you ever lost anyone like that?”

“No. I’ve been lucky so far. I have no idea what it feels like.”

Amrit took a deep breath and released it. “It’s like a stone,” he said; his voice was tired, like it took everything in him just to speak. For the first time, Shinza noticed the fine lines around his eyes, and the dark stubble coming in on his jaws. “Every day, you have to swallow it. But every day, it’s a different size. Some days it’s just a tiny pebble, and you don’t even notice it going down. Some days it sits heavy in your stomach, but you drink some tea and it helps. And then there are days when it’s a boulder. You can’t even see around it, much less attempt to swallow it.”

Shinza’s heart sank. Seeing her friend in such pain and knowing there was nothing she could do to alleviate it was excruciating. She squeezed his shoulder and said, “Do you want to talk about it? Or would you rather be distracted?”

Amrit thought for a second and then said, “Distract me, please.”

“You wanna hear a joke?”

He looked at her for the first time that morning, brows rising as if daring her to try to make him laugh. “Okay.”

“What’s worse than raining capuchin cats and dogs?”

“What?”

“Hailing taxis.”

Amrit snorted and cracked half a grin. The dimple on the left side of his face appeared. “Where’d you hear that?”

“My little cousin told me.”

“You went to go see your family? How was that?” 

“Confusing,” she replied with a sigh. Then, after a beat, she looked at him and said, “I want to take the mastery test.”

“Whoa. Was it that bad?” he asked with concern. “What happened?”

Shinza pulled her sinking feet out of the sand and motioned for him to follow her down the shore. The gulls overhead called loudly to one another, coordinating to pick the dragon-iguanas off the rocks.

“It was actually really nice,” she said. “Until somebody brought up the the Avatar at dinner. I managed to play it cool, but they’re supporters of The Org. They were also trading some pretty disgusting rumors - like that the Avatar murders children to gain power. I just…”

Shinza paused, thoroughly disgusted as she recalled the conversation. “I can’t fathom how they could really think that’s true. How could you not question that?”

“It’s propaganda,” Amrit replied flatly. “People will believe all kinds of shit if they have a good reason to. No one’s immune to it, even if they think they are.”

“My aunt also said The Org is on a witch hunt,” Shinza continued. “Which I don’t think is a rumor. She said they’re starting in Republic City and just waiting for the name of the Avatar to be announced.”

“Good thing you haven’t been presented yet,” Amrit noted. “Maybe the world leaders will agree it’s best to keep your identity unknown.”

“I don’t think it’s going to matter,” Shinza replied. “My guess is The Org is probably further along with their plans than everyone thinks, or at least that’s the assumption I’m going with. Besides, something else happened - or at least I think it happened. I think my cousin Nhu knows who I am. If she does, I have reason to believe my secret is safe with her.”

“I hope so,” Amrit said. “So you want to take the test so you can move on and keep training.”

“Exactly. And I know you think I’m not ready, but I’m asking you as a friend, and not as your student: please let me do this my way. I need to know you have some faith in me.”

Amrit halted, looking guilt-ridden. The wind kicked at his high black ponytail. “Actually, there’s something I want to say about that.”

Shinza couldn’t help rolling her eyes. Amrit continued, “Please, just hear me out.”

She waited. He laughed nervously and rubbed at the back of his neck. “This is hard. Ah… I was wrong.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been holding you to a different standard because of who you are, and that’s not fair. I thought that since you have Fire Nation heritage and you’re the Avatar, you’d fit snugly into this ‘classical prodigy’ mold I had in my mind. But your firebending is different and unique and beautiful, mostly because of how much harder you’ve had to work to be able to even produce a flame. I’ve never seen anyone whose chi was blocked so badly and for so long like yours was. When that happens, it usually means a person never really fully opens up their bending abilities. This has never had anything to do with your lack of ambition, and I’m sorry I turned it into that. I’m sorry I haven’t shown my faith in you.”

Shinza wanted to throw her arms around him. Instead, she settled on a righteous smirk. “That really was hard for you, wasn’t it?”

For the first time that morning, Amrit’s smile reached all the way to his onyx eyes. “Yeah. It was. But you’re proud of me.”

“Very proud,” she purred. “And you’re proud of me too.”

“I’m…” Amrit looked away, still smiling. “In awe of you. And yes, extremely proud.”

“So you’ll call a meeting?”

“Yes. But let’s get inside. The Leg’s killing me.”

_________

The test came five days later. Shinza had dressed and received the red ochre markings on her face that indicated she was being tested. Then she was led out into a valley on the edge of the village, where a panel of five elders sat waiting for her. To the left of them burned the Eternal Flame, and above them all loomed the Cave of the Masters, although the Masters themselves did not appear. Surrounding Shinza were other tribe members - some she recognized as Amrit’s family and his former students, all of whom took their cue and initiated a stirring traditional song. Drum beats and chanting filled the humid air in the valley; the warrior closest to the Eternal Flame took some of its glowing energy and passed it to the warrior next to her, and so on until each person bore the flame. Rhythmically, they danced with the fire, creating circles of varying sizes and colors. Shinza, awed and with goosebumps cropping up along her skin, stood in the middle of it all until it came to an end. 

She faced the panel of elders, recognizing Amrit as the one sitting to the right of the chief. They all wore ceremonial clothes, and their ochre markings told their places in the tribe. Shinza had never seen Amrit the way he was now: impartial, regal, statuesque. He and the others took their seats, and the chief spoke.

“Avatar Shinza,” boomed Chief Mongkut. “We gather today to administer your firebending mastery test. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Chief Mongkut,” Shinza answered with a deep bow. From above, the sun’s rays beat down on them all. She felt the heat in her bare shoulders like a particularly energetic jostling from Amrit, grounding her, encouraging her. She could almost hear him whispering in her ear: you’ve got this. When she caught a glimpse of him, though, he was watching her as if she were a stranger.

“Proceed,” commanded the chief.

Shinza ran through every form she’d learned here on the island, stringing them into a tight, improvised dance: rapid, high kicks and flurries of punches; twirling leaps and swift spins on one bent leg. Fire blazed from her hands and feet, carefully controlled and white-hot, in streams and bursts, spheres and circles. She left it to the panel’s imagination to envision these moves being used in combat. Finally, when she was finished, she closed the path of her chi with a circling movement of her arms and bowed again.

Sweat matted her bangs to her forehead and rolled sideways down her face to drip off her nose. Panting, she waited. But no one said anything. Then she took a glance upward and saw that the four who flanked Chief Mongkut had all turned to him. He seemed to be deep in thought, eyeing Shinza as if she were a stone with some unknown ancient language carved onto its surface. 

“Thank you, Avatar,” he said. “That will be all.”

Shinza blinked stupidly, standing up straight and nodding her head in deference. Then she slipped away, looking back one more time at Amrit, who she found this time was looking back at her, wearing an expression she read as a combination of admiration and worry. Once the testing area was out of view, she stopped to catch her breath, wondering if she’d missed something. Amrit had told her what to expect: the opening ceremony, the passing of the Eternal Flame, and the feeling of intimidation performing in front of almost the whole village. But he hadn’t specified when she’d be handed her results. Maybe they always wait, she thought to herself. But the sinking feeling that she hadn’t passed crept along her soot-covered skin. Shoving her damp bangs upward off her face, she exhaled and wandered back through the town square.

“You didn’t fail,” she murmured to herself in an attempt to calm her rising anxiety. “You didn’t fail. You’re a perfectly adequate firebender.” But adequate isn’t good enough, replied her inner voice, which in this scenario sounded like her mother’s voice: calm, loving, and laced with the poison of disappointment. Her mother had never directly said it, but Shinza always got the hint: doing something if you weren’t perfect at it was a waste of time. An icy terror slid down her spine: what if this was as good as she got, ever? What if her training with the other elements went the same way? What good would she be to anyone then? A flash of the nightmare she’d had several nights ago resurfaced: black tendrils, scraping nails, silent mouth. What had that dream meant?

“Stop,” she hissed. Inwardly, she reminded herself that she hadn’t even been able to bend before she’d arrived here. Now, she’d done well enough for the panel of elders to allow her to take the mastery test. She’d done everything she could, and she’d continue to do all she could, because she had no other choice. Shinza closed her eyes and wiped away the image she saw of her mother and father, conjuring up instead the memory of that first day of training, when Amrit had insisted that there was nothing wrong with her. The thought brought her comfort, but it wasn’t enough. 

Opening her eyes, Shinza released the breath she’d been holding. She was proud of herself.

[mdelpin]

Shadowlight Week 2019 Prompt: Dawn AO3 | FF.Net

This follows the events after It’s Always Darkest... (Day 7: Dusk), His Own Destiny (Day 4: Command),  High Hopes (Day 2: Symbols) and A Scent Like No Other (Day 1: Scents)

Before the Dawn

Summary: The promise of better times lay ahead, nestled within the lingering warmth of held hands and secret kisses.

 "Tomorrow is the dawn of a new day for us,“ he said,  giving voice to all the hopes and dreams they had nurtured for so long.

During the week that Rogue was gone, Sting did his best to keep busy. He tried not to think about what might be happening and focused on the things he wanted to say. Lector and Frosch tried to help, and Sting was happy that they kept him company. He was so anxious he might have gone crazy otherwise.

Jiemma, never one to miss an opportunity to pit his wizards against each other, devised a contest to determine which wizards would be representing Sabertooth in the Grand Magic Games, even though pretty much everyone was sure he’d already made up his mind. As soon as Rogue and Rufus returned there would be a tournament, the top scoring mages would go to the Games.

For once Sting was grateful for his Master's machinations, all the wizards were so determined to at the very least make a good showing that there were plenty of people to spar with. Most of them were not very challenging, but he was able to learn some fighting moves to complement his magic. His lack of control was still a concern for him, most of his moves were light based, and they could seriously injure someone if he weren't careful. 

He'd begun trying to direct the energy to other parts of his body, using it to enhance his punches and kicks rather than always depending on his lasers. By the end of the week, he'd become somewhat adept at it. There was one thing he knew he still had to work on and it was his speed. Both times Jiemma and Minerva had bested him it had been because he had not moved fast enough. He rather hoped that when he mastered his new power that would change.

Rogue and Rufus arrived laden with books they'd been allowed to check out from the library. Sting tried to sniff Rogue as discreetly as he could, but by the outrage on Rogue's face, he wasn't subtle enough. He walked past him to Master Jiemma's office without a word, obviously annoyed. Rufus laughed and with a wink went straight to his room. Not a good start.

o-o

“Is that what you really think of me?” Rogue startled him from his training a few hours later, causing him to be knocked off balance by the training dummy as it spun outside of his control.

“What?” Sting attempted to act dumb, running a hand through his hair while he looked for a towel to wipe off his sweaty chest and back which he couldn’t help but notice Rogue was openly staring at. He looked around for his shirt and put it on.

“You know what,” Rogue snapped, “You were scenting me to make sure I hadn’t done anything with Rufus.”

"You're right, I'm sorry. It's just that, " Sting went on to explain what had happened when he and Rufus had gone searching for Minerva, but Rogue interrupted him.

“I know, he told me.” Rogue sighed, “I know I hurt you, but you have to believe me when I tell you, I never meant to.”

Sting nodded, “I know that. I don’t really know what came over me, it felt like my world had ended. Stupid, huh?” He looked at Rogue nervously waiting to see how he would react to his words.

“It wasn’t entirely your fault,” Rogue conceded, confusing him, “I learned a lot about our magic in the time I was gone, and about our bond. Things the dragons never told us. What you were feeling, it’s what they call your inner dragon reacting to what it felt was a challenge on your claim on me. Because we’ve never fully mated it makes you feel very insecure.”

Sting had no idea what that meant, and it must have shown on his face because Rogue chuckled and held his hand out to him. Sting quickly took it, hungry for any contact with his mate no matter how small.

“Come on,” Rogue said dragging him with him to the guild’s library where the books he’d brought back were already laid out on a table. They sat down next to each other as Rogue showed him different passages in the books that referred to what he’d explained, while his other hand was held captive by Sting under the table.

Neither of them had been this happy in a long time.

O-o

"So I still don't get it, there's a dragon inside each of us?" Sting asked the following day. They were standing in the guild's backyard, getting ready to try a few things Rogue had found in the book. When Jiemma learned of the possible amounts of destruction involved, he allowed them to train outside in a seldom used area of the guild.

Rogue held his tongue, not wanting to break the peace they had settled into. “No, there isn’t a dragon inside of us. As part of the spell Weisslogia and Skiadrum enchanted us with, our bodies adapted to be able to accommodate their magic. For example, our lungs were modified to be able to not only consume our elements but produce our roars.

Sting nodded in understanding, “So, no dragon?”

“No dragon, “ Rogue agreed patiently, “I suspect it’s more like instincts that are so primal that they automatically became part of us once we were enchanted. Dragons are very protective, and also quite aggressive.” A smirk played on Rogue’s lips as he added, “Although I suspect Weisslogia was more dramatic than most.”

Sting pouted, and Rogue snickered in response. He sat as close to his mate as he dared and looked at the book in his lap.

“How did you get Jiemma to let us spend so much time together?” Sting whispered so that only Rogue could hear him.

"By telling him parts of the truth, and showing him the books, so he knew I wasn't lying." Rogue enjoyed the feel of the mid-morning sun on his skin. "It's why I asked for permission to check them out."

"I didn't find anything for the first few days, then I found some references to some books, but when I couldn't locate them, I was told they were in a special collection, and I needed permission from someone in the Magic Council to be able to read them." Rogue explained, "We communicated with Master Jiemma, and he was able to get us access."

“It turns out that Dragon Slaying magic is considered a Lost Magic,” Rogue shrugged, “I’m still not sure of how the lacrimas are made or how they work.”

“You said you wanted to show me something?” Sting quickly changed the subject before Rogue got too enthused on the topic. They were meant to be training after all.

"Right," Rogue grinned sheepishly, opening the book to the chapter he had wanted to show Sting. "So I think I figured out what the problem is," He pointed at the illustration on the page, it showed a person who had scales drawn over parts of their body and they seemed to be glowing. "There are all sorts of spells that we can learn, secret arts and other cool stuff, but this here is what I think is happening. It's called Dragon Force, and it's supposed to be something we shouldn't be able to do for a long time, but the potential has always been inside us."

Sting looked at the picture with interest, “So you’re saying the lacrimas gave us the ability to access this Dragon Force?”

Rogue nodded, and he punched Sting on the shoulder proudly, "That's exactly what I'm saying! The other problem I think should sort itself out."

Sting tilted his head as he considered Rogue's words but remained silent. With a smile Rogue explained, "Our magic is tied to our emotions, and because we have been uhm... disconnected from each other, our magic has been that much harder to control."

“So all we have to do is work out our differences?” Sting looked unconvinced.

Rogue smiled at him, “Something like that, yes, at least I think so.”

“Okay then,” Sting checked to make sure no one was near them. When he was satisfied, he placed his hand over Rogue’s and looked deep into his mate’s eyes, wanting to make sure Rogue was convinced of his honesty. “I didn’t mean what I said, I just wanted you to feel as hurt as I did.”

"And I don't care if it was instincts or whatever that made me do it. You never set out to hurt me, but I knew full well how those words would affect you, and I said them anyway." Sting bowed his head, ashamed of what he'd done. "I'm so sorry, if I could take it back, I would."

Rogue felt relief to hear those words from Sting, but he knew he had a lot to apologize for as well. "It's okay, I should have realized. It wasn't until after I saw how you reacted that I understood what it was I had done."

His bottom lip jutted out as he thought about how futile the whole thing had been in the end. “I guess I just wanted to believe there was a way out of here, you know?”

Before Rogue knew what was happening Sting had wrapped him in an embrace and whispered in his ear, “We will get out of here someday, I promise you that.” Rogue went to struggle, afraid of being discovered but Sting only held him tighter. “Don’t worry, there’s no one around. Something else I’ve noticed, my senses are even better than they used to be.”

Rogue relaxed and snuggled into the hug, starved for Sting’s touch. They spent a few minutes holding each other and immersing themselves in the other’s smell. When they separated Sting smiled, a real one that made his blue eyes crinkle prettily, and Rogue found himself falling in love all over again.

He leaned forward craving the taste of his boyfriend, Sting eagerly meeting him halfway. Their lips connected softly, pressing fervently against each other, both afraid of pushing their luck but wanting to reconnect in all the ways they had lost. The kiss didn’t last long, but for the first time since they had woken up at Sabertooth, Rogue felt like he was home.

"I love you," Rogue whispered, watching in awe as Sting's eyes lit up when he heard the words, his grin stretching so wide he could see his mate's fangs. Rogue reached out to touch Sting's cheek marveling at the grainy stubble that hadn't been there the last time he'd been allowed to touch.

Sting grabbed his hand and kissed it before replying, “I love you too.” Rogue reddened, even though he had expected the words. Everything was finally okay between them again, better than okay even.

Sting got up pulling Rogue along with him by the hand that he was still holding. They were both smiling, and Rogue squeezed Sting's hand one last time before letting go.

“Now what?” Sting asked looking back at the book Rogue had been showing him earlier.

"Now we fight," Rogue laughed as they faced each other. They got into their fighting stances, Sting beckoning him to come at him with his hand and Rogue immediately went into his shadow form and lunged for an attack.

They fought hard for the next thirty minutes or so, both ending up sweaty and bruised, but it was clear their control had already improved a little. With smiles on their faces and lighter hearts, they realized it had been too long since they'd been able to spar for fun.

“So what are these secret arts you were talking about?” Sting questioned with interest.

Rogue wiped his hands on his pants and looked for the relevant chapter. He stopped to look at the sun and realized they would miss lunch if they didn’t hurry. “Come on, I’ll show you at lunch.”

“Oh great, I’m starving!” Sting cheered. They walked back towards the building making sure to leave some space between them so no one would notice the change in their relationship. One person had seen them though, and even though it had hurt her a little, she was glad.

O-o

For the next two weeks as everyone sparred and practiced tirelessly in preparation for Jiemma's tournament Sting and Rogue continued to train outside. Jiemma and Orga had placed some training dummies to allow them to practice their long-range attacks. Now that the games were closer Jiemma did not want to risk them injuring each other accidentally. They practiced nonstop learning more and more powerful spells. They found that using these intermediate spells helped ease them into their growing power and by the last day of training they had both been able to enter Dragon Force at least once in front of Jiemma, who looked more pleased than they had ever seen him.

The day of the tournament arrived, and it was obvious in short order that Sabertooth's team would consist of Minerva, Orga, Rufus, Sting, and Rogue who were by far the strongest mages the guild had. Jiemma confirmed it, having made sure to keep them from fighting each other.

The last week before they departed for Crocus was spent training in more mundane ways. Jiemma was reasonably sure they could win the fights easily but the contests were an unknown, and that was something he didn't like.

All five of them were put in a regimen that included running, archery, shooting, cooking and eating contests and anything else Jiemma could think of. It was great fun for the other guild wizards to see their strongest mages struggle with things they considered ordinary. Orga struggled running, although he had a lot of muscle he lacked stamina, Sting and Rogue didn't know how to swim, Rufus was incapable of cooking if he wasn't given a recipe to memorize, and Minerva could out eat them all even though she had a tiny frame. By the end of the week, they were all grateful to be done and finally be on their way to Crocus.

Sting and Rogue were excited to be leaving the guild building together, it felt almost like an adventure, and it reminded them of better times. They suffered through the train ride, arriving in Crocus by late afternoon. When their stomachs finally calmed down, they walked with the others, looking around in awe at how vibrant everything was. Crocus was by far the biggest city they had ever seen, and it was beautiful. The buildings were large and colorful, and everywhere you looked there were different types of flowers creating a pleasant fragrance that permeated everything.

“Do you think we’ll get a chance to explore?” Orga wondered aloud, “I’ve never been to a city this big before.”

Minerva snorted, “Right… you have met my father, haven’t you? We’ll be lucky if he lets us out of the inn.”

Rufus made a muted sound of agreement, seemingly overwhelmed by all there was to look at, his quick mind memorizing everything even when he didn’t want to.

There were colorful flags strung around the city and they quickly figured out they represented the competing guilds as soon as they found the Sabertooth one mixed in among them. Sting and Rogue recognized many symbols from back when they read Sorcerer Weekly, but there were also plenty they didn’t know.

Sting and Rogue stopped in their tracks when they noticed a symbol they hadn’t expected.

“Is that?” Sting began as he saw the symbol of the Fairy Tail guild, the surprise he felt soon overridden by the pain he had never quite gotten over.

“Yeah,” Rogue answered quietly, “I suppose it’s to be expected the guild would continue without them.” The thought filled him with sadness though, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d thought about Gajeel, Natsu or any of the others who had been lost. They had all seemed bigger than life, who could have possibly replaced them?

Their hands snaked out towards each other, fingers lacing, squeezing and quickly separating before anyone could notice. That day had been the one that had set them on this path and they both needed solace from the memories.

The guild members continued to trudge behind their Master, gawking at everything on their way to their inn. They checked in, every competitor getting their own room, while the others would have to share. Sting and Rogue wished they could share but knew better than to make the request. Jiemma had been extremely lenient with them, but that would surely be pushing their luck.

Just as Minerva had foreseen, they were ordered to stay in the inn until the next day's opening events.

The mood in the inn was very somber, there was nothing to distract them from their nerves about the upcoming competition or to keep them from worrying about what would happen to them if they didn't manage to take first place.

O-o

Sting lay awake in his bed long after Jiemma had done the bed check. Lector, who he had managed to smuggle in his bag, snuggled against him snoring softly. Sting felt restless, this competition could make his dream come true, and he was anxious for it to begin, but no matter how hard he tried, sleep evaded him.

A soft breeze entered through the window he knew he had closed and it brought the soothing smell of Rogue with it. He felt a small body land on the bed and settle itself next to Lector while a shadow solidified into the body of his mate.

“What are you doing here?” Sting whispered urgently, “If Jiemma catches you, he’ll kill you!”

"No, he won't," Rogue declared, "He wants to win this competition, and he won't do anything to jeopardize that. Who would he replace me with on such short notice?" Rogue sounded very smug, and Sting chuckled even as he made room on the bed for him.

“And even if he did, he knows that would mess you up.” Rogue pointed out as he climbed in, “For the first time we have him exactly where we want him.”

Sting turned on his side so he could see Rogue better. “I guess that’s true.”

“Are you nervous?” Rogue asked.

“I just want to get started,” Sting groaned with frustration, “What about you?”

“I just want it to be over,” Rogue answered honestly.

Sting chuckled, “You’re worried over nothing, this is going to be fun.”

“If we win,” Rogue pointed out.

“We will.” Sting leaned forward and kissed Rogue on the forehead and then continued peppering his face with kisses until he got him to laugh.

“That’s better,” Sting teased moving onto his back and waiting for Rogue to cuddle up against him as he’d used to. Once Rogue had settled on his chest Sting wrapped his arm around him holding him even closer and leaning down to kiss his head.

"Tomorrow is the dawn of a new day for us, " Sting murmured drowsily, he hadn't realized it before, but this is exactly what he'd needed, "And whatever it may bring, we'll face it together."

Together, there was a time when Rogue had thought that word but a distant memory. He squeezed Sting tightly, and as he drifted off to sleep in the arms of the one he'd always loved, he couldn’t help but smile. They’d both struggled to work through their problems but in the end, their love had triumphed. And no matter what surprises lay in store for them, that was all Rogue needed.

A/N: I know I said I was planning to get to Sting becoming Master and I do intend to, but I was overly ambitious and ran out of time. I decided I’d rather leave them in a hopeful moment for the end of Shadowlight Week. I plan to continue this in other one-shots starting with their appearance at the first Grand Magic Games. Thank you to @x-thekid for once again helping with the summary!

[kpop-wetdreams]

The Composure of the Composer

The Composure of the Composer

[one shot; soulmates!AU]

Author: Kpop-Wetdreams

Pairing: Jaebum x Reader

Rating: 18+ [fluff / angst / smut / nsfw]

Warning: Explicit Sex

Word Count: 11.6k

Author’s Note:  A soulmate!AU series of oneshots by @kpop-wetdreams, @igot7bangtanbaes, and @yehet-me-up, based on a concept by @kpop-wetdreams. The Master List can be found at: The Inevitability of You.

You woke up to the light streaming through the windows and hitting you squarely in the face. You groan as you roll over to evade the sun that was the world's most adamant alarm clock with no such luck as your cat, Sir Fat Butt, decided that it was time you fed him. This time your groan was less voluntary as you felt him jump onto your back and start to knead you, trying to get your attention. Groaning for the last time you roll back over and sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and absentmindedly petting your cat. His purr could be felt through your bed as you reached for your phone. You had band practice today. You were a drummer in a moderately popular band if you did say so yourself. You were actually quite proud of the achievements your bandmates and yourself were able to achieve. Your style of music was rock ballads not that you could hear them, not the way everyone else did. That was your deficiency, your impairment. For as long as you could remember you watched as people mouthed along to a secret melody that you were never privy to. People had tried to explain the phenomenon of music to you but it was hard to grasp.

It wasn't that you were deaf, for from it. You could hear sounds but for some reason, when they were strung together in a melody, you were locked out. It was an infuriating experience. You wanted to be a singer more than anything else. You felt it in the deepest parts of you that you had something to share but you were terrified. You were too embarrassed to sing in front of anyone because you yourself couldn't hear what you sounded like. What if you sounded like nails on a chalkboard? Worse, what if you were actually making no sounds at all. It was so difficult to tell. Your vocal chords felt the way they did when you were talking if only that they were tighter at times and more loose at others but that was hardly any indication to go off of. The ding of an incoming message in your band's group chat drag you out of your thoughts.

[Sasha 7:44 AM] Good morning sleepy heads! Meet at the practice room by 9? I know it's early but the sooner we get there the sooner we can be done right?

You shake your head as a small chuckle escapes your lips. Sasha was the leader of your band and the lead vocalist and back up guitarist. She was the bubbly beautiful visual that stood center stage and drew everyone in. Despite her sweet appearance, Sasha was actually quite the hard ass.

[Meri 7:47 AM] Don't lie to us, Sass. We all know the sooner we get in just means the longer we're practicing. There is no get out ‘early' with you.

[Thomas 7:48 AM] ^^^^^^^^ this an infinite amount of times.

You laugh out loud this time. Meri was the bassist and Thomas, was backup vocals and lead guitarist. With Annie on the keyboard and you on drums, that was the entire ensemble of U4ria. You knew Annie would still be asleep but she would somehow always make it to practice on time even if she wasn't the most active in chat (though it was your sneaking suspicion that Sasha took a detour to Annie's place and hauled her out of bed to ensure she was on time you have yet to prove your theory with evidence).

[________ 7:59 AM] See you dweebs there xoxo

You type quickly and hopped into the shower. You had an hour to get ready and grab your bag and head out of the door. Luckily for you, since you were the drummer that meant usually you didn't have to lug your equipment around, just your drumsticks. The shower was quick, short, and hot and ended too soon. You tie your drying hair up into a quick and messy bun and after throwing on an oversized sweater, some black tights, and combat boots, you were out the door with a bag slung over your shoulder and drumsticks securely in hand.

As you walked along the street you drummed an invisible beat. Sometimes you were envious of those that walked with their heads down, plugged into their devices and you assumed, listening to music as they went about their day. You wondered if they even knew how lucky they were to be able such a ‘mundane' luxury when you would give up almost anything to hear the music.

"No matter." You tell yourself as you continue to the bus stop. Just because you couldn't hear music didn't mean that your life lacked sound. You listened to all the sounds around you. Bird songs were exempt from your inability to hear the music. You whistled their tune back to them and noted the sound of passing cars. The rumbling of engines… the laughter of children playing at a nearby playground. They were music to you. In your head, you arranged entire orchestras of the sounds around you and the sounds that were invisible to others. Sounds that were just ‘noise' to them but were everything to you.

Band practice had gone great and without a hitch. Everyone had shown up on time, early even which had delighted Sasha but as predicted, they went on until the bitter end. You were currently lying on the floor heaving, letting the air conditioning wash over you. You never understood how you got so sweaty playing the drums but you always did. The others always teased you for your ‘passionate' playing but you just wanted to convey the song, the heartbeat of the music as best as you could and apparently that meant looking like you ran a marathon.

"Did you hear the new song released by Jaebum?" Thomas asked excitedly taking out his phone.

"Did he actually sing in this one or just you know, do everything else?" Meri teased. Jaebum was a famous composure. He composed the music, wrote the lyrics and produced the songs though he never sang on them himself. His career had taken off quite suddenly a few years ago and showed no signs of slowing down what-so-ever. One of the other reasons his career took off the way it did was despite his music being incredibly moving, being lyrically beautiful, he also shared the music impairment. He couldn't hear the music he produced. Not in its entirety anyways. That's why the other thing he was renowned for was being a merciless womanizer.  Apparently, he would do anything to hear his music even if it was just in snippets, just bits, and pieces. Finding your complete soulmate, that absolute perfect match would of course ‘cure' you of your impairment in its entirety but there were work-a-rounds. What Jaebum did was actually quite common. You see, there were varying degrees of matching within all those that shared the same impairment. Rumor had it that Jaebum went around finding the girl with the highest match and that's how he lived his life. Ever searching for the greater match just so he could compose and hear his music, never seeking it for the fulfillment of his actual soulmate bond for how much more it could actually offer him.

You always thought it was a little unfair of people to judge Jaebum so harshly on how he chose to use his soulmate bond. It wasn't like there was some magical guide on how you were supposed to treat your soulmate as long as it was consensual with both parties, what was wrong with what he was doing? You were sure these women that agreed to be with Jaebum knew his reputation and what his typical pattern was so it wasn't a surprise but the heart was a fickle thing really.

"Speaking of Jaebum… did you hear that he was supposed to be a guest judge at that charity talent show that we signed _________ up for?" Annie asked nonchalantly as she was packing away her keyboard.

You sprung upwards, staring at your friends though right now they looked like a buncha backstabbing cows more than friends.

"Annie!" Sasha hissed. "You weren't supposed to tell her yet!" she screeched in hushed tones.

"What. The. Actual fuck is Annie talking about?" You asked through narrowed eyes.

Meri walked over to you and wrapped you up in a tight hug and started to pet your hair. Meri was always the mother of the group, trying to keep things smooth and from bubbling over too much. "We all know how much you want to sing _________. We thought this might be a fun way for you to get out there… you don't have to go if you don't want. All we did was sign you up and pay the entrance fee." she said encouragingly.

"Though if you did decide to do it, you would kick ass _________. Sasha showed us the demos on your computer." Thomas said grinning and giving you a thumbs up. Now it was your turn to screech at the top of your lungs and point accusingly as Sasha.

"TRAITOR!" You yell at the top of your lungs, livid. You showed her those demos in confidence! She wasn't supposed to go blabbering to the rest of the group about your singing or your lame attempts at it!

"HEY IN MY DEFENSE, YOU LEFT ME ALONE. IN A ROOM. WITH TOP SECRET INFORMATION AND THE ABILITY TO COPY THE FILES. WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN?" Sasha asked, shrugging but pouting at you and giving you her infamous puppy dog stare that would have your anger melting away.

You gave up and just decided to lie down. You laid down completely flat on your stomach and didn't move.

"Look at what you did Sasha. You broke _________ again." Thomas scolded as you could hear your friends scuttling about and surrounding you on the floor. "Honestly _________, you don't have to do it if you don't want to. We were surprised when Sasha showed us the demos and hurt that you didn't feel like you could show us yourself. You have talent even if you can't hear it _________ but we can.  You are a singer. You pour that passion you have when playing the drums into your singing and Sasha will have to watch her back or we will end up with two lead vocals." Thomas teased, nudging your side.

You could feel someone pawing at your hand and you finally turn to face the source to find Sasha's face but an eyelash distance away. "Don't be mad. We did it for you stupid. We believe in you. I wish you believed in yourself half as much as we believed in you. If you believe in yourself that much then you could dethrone even Jaebum as the greatest composer and artist of our generation." She said seriously.

The room was silent as the whirring sound of the air conditioner could be heard before you sat up. "Do you guys really think so?"

You didn't need an answer as your friends all collapsed about you, forming a massive doggy pile and group hug all at once.

Jaebum stared at the invitation sitting open on his desk. He ran his hand through his hair again and sighed the umpteenth sigh of the day. He was too busy. He simply had too much to do to make an appearance at this charity event as a guest judge like his company wanted. It was some feel-good event, non-profit media frenzy event. The winner of the ‘talent show' didn't even get a prize. All you got were more good feelings. Jaebum had nothing against charities. He loved charities. Yay giving back to the community. Yayyyy but he was simply just too busy. Lately, he found that his impairment was bothering him more than normal. More of the music was slipping away from his fingers which only meant one thing, it was time for a new mate.

His solution wasn't a perfect one but it was one that worked. He would find the most suitable mate possible in the moment he needed them and kept them around until the music started to fade, which usually meant their affection for him was waning as well and then it was time to upgrade to a new model. This one had lasted a surprisingly long time. He had even enjoyed the sex and her company. They had shared interests but it was never her that kept him there, only what she offered him. He didn't feel guilty. These girls knew what they were signing up for when they agreed to date him. They were using him just as he was using them, they used each other in different ways and used each other until there was nothing left and then they'd fall apart. It was something that Jaebum had probably gone through at least a dozen times that now it was just routine.

Jaebum held up the invitation again to scrutinize the cursive writing embossed on the paper. "Fuck it. It's Christmas time. Do what we can for those that can't right?" he muttered as he turned to his laptop and opened up an e-mail to the event coordinator letting them know that he would be in attendance after all but he had a few...demands.

He wouldn't have to appear on any broadcast; and

He could sit away from the Judge's table.

Those were his only two stipulations to his attendance. They could use his name all they wanted as long as he didn't have to appear. It wasn't that he wasn't confident in his looks (if women were any indication, he was rather good-looking), he just valued his privacy and the moment he revealed his face, he would lose that forever.  

Once Jaebum got the confirmation e-mail back that all his conditions will be met, he sighed again. "Whoop-dee-fucking-do. Let's go put in some charity work," he muttered to himself, placing his noise-canceling headphones back over his ears and getting back to his producing project.

"Stop pacing _________. Honestly, you're going to make me throw up." Sasha said as she rubbed her temples from her seat backstage with you and the rest of U4ria.

You couldn't help it. You were not going to come. You had flipped a coin. Then plucked petals off a poor flower. Then back to the coin. Then counting toes on the tiger and all the things. You had finally resolved not to come to this thing despite practicing all week long. Meri had been careful to monitor how much you were practicing so you wouldn't strain your vocal chords and actually do more harm than good. It was strange to practice singing without being able to hear the song. You were going to be singing one of Jaebum's many compositions. The words were actually pretty easy to sing (since you already knew them by heart). It didn't matter how many times Meri told you that you sounded amazing, you didn't believe her. How could you? How could you believe something you had never experienced first hand?

Your hands were shaking so much it looked like you had downed 5 espressos on the way here. It didn't matter how many times you wrung them or tried to take deep breaths, nothing seemed to be able to settle your nerves. You almost didn't register the contestant that was just before you step out onto the stage. Almost. As soon as you saw the duo walk past you and out onto the stage, you started hyperventilating.

"SOMEONE GET HER THE BAG," Annie screamed as people threw things around and you were eventually handed a paper bag and some water.

Thomas patted your back sympathetically. "You can do this _________ but if you really don't want to you don't have to. We are proud of you either way." He tried to comfort you. You knew that your friends would be proud of you either way but you wanted to do this. You maybe wanted to do this? No. You definitely wanted to do this for yourself! You had to do this. But really, did anyone have to do anything at all? If you left right now, your friends would still be proud and no one would be the wiser. Well, no one except you. Would you be able to look yourself in the mirror tomorrow and not feel regret? You uncapped the water bottle and downed the entire thing like it held something stronger than just water hoping for some liquid courage but no such luck.

"_________. _________!" Someone called your name as your head shot up.

"H-h-here!" You said unsteadily as you walked towards the person that had called your name.

" Hi _________. We need you to be on standby and be ready to step out on stage as soon as you're given the cue. Good? Good." They said without looking up from their clipboard and walked away before you could ask a question if your brain was competent enough at that moment to form one. You were shaking like a leaf standing on that red ‘x' and apparently, you went on autopilot because the next thing you knew, you were standing on a different red ‘x' and a spotlight was shining in your eyes. The judges' panel regarded you curiously as you introduced yourself and when you were ready, you cued Thomas to play your music.

Ok. 1, 2, 3, 4, rest, 2, 3, 4, rest, rest, rest, 4, rest, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, rest, rest…

You took a deep breath and something strange happened. You sang, projecting your voice on pitch and for the first time in your entire life, you heard yourself sing.

Jaebum had entered the venue through a side door to avoid the commotion out front. His name was plastered all over the building and the organizers had spared no expense to deck out the building and really make it feel like something special. In front of the venue stood a Christmas tree that was so large that you couldn't see the top of it if you were standing too close to the base. Twinkling lights were strung across all the outside areas to mimic the night sky and even he had to give credit where credit where it was due, the venue looked spectacular.

He had met with the other judges briefly to go over the program and what was to be expected. The Talent Show only held about 25 contestants, nothing too crazy. Good enough to put on a program and a good selection of talents and acts for them to choose a winner from. The winner won a small sum of money and some recording time in a professional studio. It wasn't a bad prize, especially for something smaller. All in all it was more of a focus on the charity aspect of the event and once all the judges were caught up and they were given the cue, the judges that would be appearing on the broadcast, as well as the MC, filed out and Jaebum exited stage left and found his way up to the nosebleeds.

Jaebum situated himself dead center and high up enough that he could see the contestant but they wouldn't be able to see him, not with the spotlight shining in their eyes. This was his happy place. Somewhere he could observe and not be observed in return. He had his laptop open on his lap as he clicked away on the keyboard, chatting with the other judges through instant messenger. One by one the contestants filed on, performed their acts, Jaebum provided his professional opinion and they left the stage and the next person was ushered on. It was starting to get a little tedious and he could feel his irritation levels start to rise. He was grateful that the organizers had left this particular balcony completely empty so he would be undisturbed. He sat hunched over slightly in his black, oversized hoodie, hood up, typing away and drinking the occasional sip of water.

"_________." He muttered as he typed your name into his notes. His eyes flicked away from the screen to the small figure standing on stage. Even from way up where he was sitting, he could tell that you were nervous. "Doubtful she will be any good with how nervous she is. Even if she is good she won't be able to perform at her optimal condition," he muttered, typing so into his notes mechanically. It wasn't that he was cold-hearted or cruel, he was just straightforward and honest.

He hears the music start and he puts away his laptop, preferring to completely focus on the performer as they were performing and opting for a pen and paper where he could scribble things down without looking. It's one of my songs. He chuckled to himself softly. Maybe she thought she would earn brownie points if she went with one of my songs. Jaebum chuckled. What an amateurish decision to make. Jaebum was about to close his eyes and take a quick nap when he heard it. Your voice. It was unlike anything he had ever heard before and suddenly he was at the edge of his seat. The way you voice carried the song… the way the song melded into your voice. The crescendo. The subtlety. The breathiness that he wanted to convey, it was all there just as it had been in his mind and for the first time, he was hearing it. It was the first time he was hearing his song in its entirety.

Jaebum was sitting on the edge of his seat, hands gripping the railing as he listened to your voice and his song. He couldn't believe it. A complete match. You were a complete match. "Just who are you _________…" Jaebum muttered as he watched you perform. Your performance was sincere as you conveyed all you could through your voice and the song. There were no excessive movements or additives on your part and it was perfect. He had to meet you. He had to -- he didn't know what he had to do but what definitely wasn't going to happen was that you were going to slip back into anonymity and slip away.

It took Jaebum a moment to register that the song had ended and it seemed like it held the same effect for you as you stood on stage, unmoving with the mic dangling at your side. Only with some hushed sounds and waving from the stagehands did you realize that you needed to clear the stage. Your walk turned into a speed walk which turned into a full-on sprint as you dashed off stage and Jaebum dashed after you. He ran down the millions of stairs from the balcony to the main floor, cursing the fact that he decided not to sit with the other judges. That was just a stone toss away from you instead of the winding maze he was doing now.

Jaebum didn't even bother to run towards the stage as he made a straight beeline to the back where the other contestants where. Upon arrival, all he saw were people setting up or tearing down and getting ready to go. You were nowhere to be found. He ran from room to room, down one hallway and down another but you seemingly had vanished into thin air. Jaebum hit his clenched fist against a wall in frustration. "You have to be fucking kidding me!" He couldn't believe that you had managed to escape. You! You were the key to his music! To finally unlocking all his music and he had let you get away. Jaebum dashed from room to room, even opening some closed doors only to be met with gasps from changing patrons which he quickly blushed, mumbled an apology and promptly closed the door to open up a broom closet and being hit square in the face with a falling mop. "Fuck!" he growled in frustration. Jaebum walked away from the treacherous closet and tried a few others but those were all locked. He was at the last door in this particular hallway, his hand hovered over the doorknob but this one was clearly ‘Janitor's Closet'. His hand was grasped around the knob and just about to turn it when he heard a voice that he could've sworn was yours.

Jaebum ran towards the sound only to come to an open reception area. He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples at his mounting frustration. Jaebum chewed the inside of his cheek, he wasn't a quitter. He found solutions.

Jaebum jogged to the event coordinator's office and asked to see the sign-up forms for all the contestants today. The woman behind the counter was a little bewildered and wouldn't hand the papers over. This was the first time Jaebum found the fact that she didn't know who he was to be detrimental.

"Sorry. Let me clarify. My name is Im Jaebum and I am one of the judges. It is of the utmost importance that I am able to examine the sign-up papers for the contestants of this event."

The older lady was not buying whatever he was trying to sell. "How do I really know you're Im Jaebum," she asked, narrowing her eyes at him pointedly. Jaebum sighed, pushing his hand through his hair before fishing out his wallet and handing her over a piece of ID on it with his face and name.

"Please ma'am. The papers."

"How do I know you're the real Im Jaebum and not an imposter. I hear you can make a fake ID these days quite easily…." she said, tapping his ID card on a nearby table to see if it would magically explode or something of the like.

Luckily it was at that moment that one of the main event organizers was walking by and saw Jaebum. Jaebum smiled relieved. "Mr. Oh, Will you kindly vouch for this very, very, very diligent worker that I am a judge?" he asked through gritted teeth. After a few more minutes of convincing, Jaebum was finally leafing through the papers until he came across the one for you complete with your picture glued to the application. Jaebum entered your number into his phone and set your contact picture with the picture that was on your application. He smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time. "_________. I'm going to find you. Just you wait." he muttered to himself as he pocketed his phone, neatly collected the papers and returned them to the staff member.

The music had been overwhelming but still, you endured. The sound of your voice and the swell of the instrumental accompaniment was more than you could ever dream of hearing. It sounded like all the songs you had composed in your head using the bits and pieces of whatever you could hear but at the same time, so much more. It was a hard thing to explain to feel like you've known something all your life, have it missing then suddenly and all at once, be immersed in it. Your voice wavered but never cracked as you finished the song, the final notes lingering in the air, the auditorium silent. The only sound that you could hear was the thundering of your beating heart and your ragged breath that followed. The applause was slow but as it grew in size, it drowned out your heart and the tears that you had been holding back erupted. It was too much. The music. The sounds. It was all just too much.

You bolted. You don't remember much about what happened next but all you could remember was the flashing of blurred faces as you ran. Ran as hard as you can looking for somewhere to hide. You needed to just decompress. You needed to process. You had tried multiple doors before you found one that would open. It was a janitor's closet but you didn't care. You pressed yourself into the corner and dropped down, gathering your knees into your chest, squeezing your eyes closed and hands covering your ears.

You had to just concentrate on your breathing and not the constant ringing in your ears. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Your heart was still hammering in your chest but you could no longer tell if that was because of what had happened or how hard you had been running. When you finally felt a modicum of your control return back to you, you sat flat on your bum in the closet. Your hands were shaking and it seemed like no matter what you did you couldn't get them to still. The music. Oh, the music had been beautiful. It had been everything you ever dreamed of and more. Being able to hear it in its entirety only made you more determined to be a part of that world but not only that, it confirmed that you could never go back… go back to not being able to hear.

Only after a few more minutes had passed that it dawned on you. Amidst your panic and being overwhelmed you never thought about the implications. What did it mean that you had been able to hear the music. "Shit." you mutter to yourself rubbing your eyes again and resting your head against the wall. "Fucking shit." Your soulmate. They had been within the allowed proximity to trigger your inability to completely vanish and you hadn't realized. They weren't just a partial match… they were a complete match. The hardest to find and you had bolted from the area. You groan gathering your knees up to your chest again and wrapping your arms around your legs. Resting your chin on your knees you stare at the wall across from you. You were never one to worry about your soulmate. You were of the firm opinion that if you found them you found them, great; if you didn't, it wasn't the end of the world but to have been in the same building or maybe even the same room as them and not found them felt… lacking. But it wasn't even just lacking… it was like you had the winning lottery ticket and you had lost it. It was a weird sense of loss that you couldn't describe. It was as if somehow your body knew, knew that your soulmate was close and now it yearned for that person even more so but you couldn't give your body… your soul what it desired. It was an ache. A slow and throbbing ache.

Your breath hitched in your chest and your eyes went wide as the doorknob jiggled. You stared at the door willing the person on the other side to go away. You couldn't really explain why you were in this closet and would rather not have to. You knew your face was tear-stained and probably not presentable anymore and you just didn't want to deal with people. You didn't want to have to deal with anyone yet. You wanted to wallow and attend your pity party for one for just a little bit longer before you had to face the world again. It seemed like your silent prayer worked as the door remained closed and whoever was standing on the other side of it went away. You let out a breath you didn't know you had been holding. You squeeze your eyes shut again before you crawl towards the door. Reaching upwards you gently turn the knob and open the door just a crack and peer out to make sure there was no one outside so you can make your escape. You slowly poke your head out and once you confirmed there was no one around, you gathered your strength and bolted from the closet, making a beeline for the exit with only home and the safety of your bed and comforter in mind.

It had been two days. Two days since the whole talent show fiasco. Two days that you had holed up in your apartment not answering any of the group messages or the multiple phone calls from your bandmates. You knew they were worried but you couldn't answer questions when you yourself still couldn't really understand what had happened. You had turned off your phone not wanting to hear the constant pinging and reading the constant messages asking where you were and if you were ok. Apparently, your bandmates had had enough. With Sasha in the lead, they stormed your apartment followed by a string of apologies from Meri. You had given Meri a key to your apartment for emergencies which Sasha had commandeered. She was personally leading this raid on your apartment to make sure you were still alive.

"You look horrible," Sasha said regarding you with cool eyes, hands on her hips. You were sure she was right. You hadn't moved from your bed unless it was to feed Sir Fat Butt. You had cereal strewn about your comforter as you casually tried to brush some of it off like that would fix the problem. You could hear the others starting to clean around your apartment and Annie in the kitchen clanging around which meant she was probably going to try to feed you. Your eyes narrowed at Sasha wondering what her duty was. "Up." She commanded. "C'mon, get up. You can use a shower." She muttered as she pulled your comforter off of you and you were reluctantly shoved into your bathroom. "You better shower before I go in there and make you shower," she warned. You chuckled sure that Sasha would definitely follow up on her threats, the small girl didn't make idle threats after all.

You showered quickly and as the water was running down you realized how lucky you were. Your friends loved you so much and you had worried them unnecessarily. You towel off and get dressed in clean clothes and go out to meet your friends. You could tell they had all been worrying about you by the looks on their faces. When your lip starts to quiver with how bad you feel about adding to their stress, they all gather around you and hug you tightly. They all take turns hushing you and reassuring you that no one was mad and that it was ok. You hold onto your friends tightly, not knowing what you had done in your past life to be so deserving of such kind souls in your life. You hear Sasha sniffle as she brushes something away from your eyes and clap her hands.

"Ok. Enough of this. Let's eat yeah?" She said dispersing the group and you all sit down and settle around the table.This was exactly what you needed. You needed them. You needed the support of your friends and only when everyone was full and you were feeling more like yourself again did you finally manage to convince them that it was ok to leave and you would be more present and answer their texts.

"Ay, remember to turn your phone back on your cheeky little butt." Thomas scolded as he handed you your phone as they were all leaving. You hugged them all goodbye before plopping yourself onto your couch and staring at your phone. You turned the device back on and saw how many multiple messages and missed calls you had from your friends. You smiled. You loved them so fucking much. You had all been friends before you started the band together and since you didn't have your family around anymore, they had become everything to you. They were your friends, your family, your support network and you would all do anything for each other.

As you were scrolling through the messages from your friends you notice a text from an unknown number.

[Unknown 11:43 PM] Is this _________'s phone?

[Unknown 11:56 PM] Sorry to disturb if this isn't… but I'm pretty sure it is?

[Unknown 1:03 AM] Sorry this is probably a little… creepy but I am Im Jaebum, the composer. I was at the charity event you performed at and I have an opportunity for you if you're interested in music. Please contact me. Anytime.

You stare down at your phone and the series of messages. You blink, your mind blank staring at the screen unable to make sense of the words displayed. What do they mean they're Im Jaebum? Im Jaebum the composer? Like the actual Im Jaebum? You had heard that he was supposed to be a judge at the charity event but how did he get your number. There were so many questions that suddenly ran rampant through your mind. How did you even know that this was Im Jaebum and not some catfish serial killer that was going to wear your face. Your eyes narrowed and figured since they clearly already had your number, there was no harm in reply….

[_________ 2:45 PM] Um. Hello. How do I know this is really Im Jaebum and not a serial killer.

You press send and waited a few moments before your phone pinged. You were surprised that ‘Im Jaebum' had replied so quickly.

[‘Im Jaebum 2:47 PM] Haha. That is probably for the best that you were suspicious. Better safe than sorry right? How would you like me to prove my identity? A picture?

You took a moment to think about the question. No, a picture wouldn't work because the serial killer could just go into some deep search and pull some weird Jaebum selca… no. Something live would be best…

[_________ 2:53 PM] Facetime?

You hesitate, your finger hovering over the send button. What if this was actually the Im Jaebum? What would you do then? Steeling your nerves, you press send.

When your phone rang with an incoming Facetime call you almost drop your phone. Luckily it only hit the couch and fell into the mysterious beyond but after you fished around quickly, you were able to answer it.

Jaebum's face appeared on your screen and you were thankful that Annie had made you presentable with a little bit of eyeliner and a touch of lip gloss that had survived the food.

"Ah, _________. Sorry to interrupt your day like this. Have you had a chance to think about my proposal?" He asked.

Proposal? Why are you proposing to proposing to me Jaebum… we don't even know each other. You thought before your kicked yourself mentally.  He was talking about his business proposition.

"Ah yes. What kind of opportunity did you have in mind?" you ask curiously.

"I'm looking for an assistant of sorts to help me with my music and I was impressed by you and what you had to offer at the charity event and was wondering if you'd be interested. We can discuss the terms of your employment face to face if you'd like. … Well that is if you still don't think I'm a catfishing serial killer." he chuckled and you felt your cheeks heat up with a blush.

"Oh yes. Well. Like you said, better safe than sorry. When were you thinking of meeting?" You ask.

Jaebum glances at something off screen and you can hear some clicking. You assume that he's probably looking at his schedule or planner to see when he was available. This was Im Jaebum you were talking to, the most sought-after composure and music producer right now.

"Um if it's possible can we do this afternoon? It seems like that's the only time I'm free. Probably early evening given what time it is now. Shall we say 5 at my studio?" he asked, his eyes flicking back up to the camera and seemingly straight through you.

"Yeah sure. That works for me. Just … text me the details and I'll see you then." You agree. He nods and you both exchange goodbyes and the call ends.You sit a little disoriented on your couch. The sound of your clock echoing throughout the room. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

"OhmygoshI'mgoingtogomeetImJaebuminlessthan2hoursandpossiblyworkforhimdoingtheonethingIwantedtodoallmylife."

The words tumbled out of your mouth without so much as a breath between them. You flop flat on your back on your couch and stare at the ceiling. "Can I even do this?" you wonder out loud to yourself. You had heard the rumors of Jaebum's inability being that he couldn't hear music which is the same as your's but he's had professional practice getting around that… If you were going to the studio to help him work on his music did that mean his… girlfriend or whatever would be in the room with you as well so he could hear what he was working on? Did they even have to be in the same room? You suddenly felt like you knew nothing at all and you had to somehow figure out how to get to Jaebum's studio.

You shot a quick text to Sasha with the address of where you were going with strict instructions that if you were not heard from again tonight to please send police to that address.

After paying the taxi driver, your hand rested on the handle. "I could leave right now and he'd be none the wiser," you muttered to yourself. The taxi driver waited patiently as you finally gathered your thoughts and pushed open the door, exiting. You stood in front of a daunting building, staring at it not sure of how you could proceed… You figured it would be best just to walk straight up and hopefully talk to a security guard or receptionist of something of the sort and maybe just maybe, they'd be able to lead you to where you were supposed to go.

As luck would have it, Jaebum had the foresight to give your name to the attendant and they lead you to Jaebum's studio. With a quick tap of your knuckles on his door, it opened to reveal the composer. It was weird to see him in real life. He was a lot more handsome than you were anticipating. It was surreal that you were standing there and then he smiled and you forgot how to breathe for a second. It should be illegal for someone to be this… good looking. You thought to yourself.

"Hi _________! Welcome! Come in come in!" he ushered happily, gesturing to a leather couch he had in his studio.

You perched on the edge of the seat as he sat down in his chair.

"So before we talk about business I want to show you something I've been working on," he said enthusiastically. He turned around and started pressing some buttons on his music equipment.

"Actually my inability doesn't allow me to he--" the words died on your lips.

Suddenly the room was filled with music and you could hear everything. You didn't understand. Your eyes flicked back and forth between the equipment and Jaebum. You let the music play out and fade into nothingness. The room was silent as neither one of you moved.

"W-w-what? What does this mean?" You ask shakily.

Jaebum looked at you with a bright smile on his face replacing his usual expression of coolness. "Don't you get it? We are a complete match. We are the complete match. We are soulmates." His eyes were twinkling as he laid it all out plainly for you.

You were sure you looked like a trout with your mouth hanging open and then closing but you just, you couldn't believe it. You watched with Im Jaebum. The Im Jaebum?! What were even the odds of that? Probably less than the odds that people end up finding their complete match but here you were, you found your complete match and it was him. You didn't understand. What did he want from you then? Did he want to start dating you? God, surely he didn't want to just marry you right off the bat, that'd be absolutely insane! Insane! There were a million different thoughts running through your head when you realized that you didn't know the man sitting in front of you. You had no idea who he was as a person, his ethics, his morals, other than what his name was, what he did for a living and the rumor of how he treated women. You didn't want to be just another one of those tabloid cases…

"I know this might be overwhelming for you but once I met you I knew I had to see you again. It would be insane to think that we would meet the way we did and I don't expect anything of you. Please know that. I just want the opportunity to work with you like I said over text earlier." he explained.

"We are soulmates which means we both share the same inability. The inability to fully hear music but when we are together, I, we, we can hear everything. Everything _________! I want the opportunity for us to work together. For both of us to fully be able to experience the music. You want to become a singer right?" he asked.

You nod slowly, trying to wrap your mind around the idea of working with one of the composers you had idealized for the better part of your life.

"Well after working with me I'm sure there will be so many agencies lined up to sign you that you will have your pick of the litter. So what do you say _________? Will you work with me?" Jaebum asked enthusiastically.

You kept blinking. All he was asking for was that you worked together. Surely you can handle that. He wasn't asking for your hand in marriage.

"Yes. I would like that," you said softly. At that, Jaebum showed you the most brilliant smile you had probably seen in your entire life as he clasped your hands in his.

"To the best working relationship, there ever was!" Jaebum declared.

Over the course of the next few weeks, you worked quite closely with Jaebum as he taught you the in's and out's of the industry. Not only did you help him work on his music, he helped you develop your talents. Now that you were able to hear yourself sing, you were starting to take vocal lessons and together, you were composing music. It was some of the most fulfilling work you've done and it made you so incredibly happy to be able to do so.

Not only were you learning about what it took to be a singer and improve, you were also learning a lot of Jaebum himself. You learned that he was uncomfortable displaying aegyo but had affection for his parents and would act cute for them without hesitation. You learned that he was hyper-aware of his facial expressions and feared that people would think he was ‘unapproachable' or ‘mean' or ‘angry' whenever he wasn't smiling just because his resting face was a little emotionless. You learned that he took care of people subtly, quietly in the background and preferred not to take credit for things like that. You also learned that one of the reasons he didn't do a face reveal was that he was shy to a degree. He didn't like to be the center of attention like that. He wanted his music to stand on its own and in a way, be completely detached from who he was in a person. His vision for his music was that when people heard it, they would only hear about the music, think about the lyrics and not about the person who wrote it. You found that quite admirable of him.

You explained everything to your bandmates. They were just as shocked as you were when you revealed that you had gotten an opportunity to work with Jaebum that you couldn't turn down and they completely understood. They didn't make you feel guilty about accepting the offer or anything and were just genuinely glad for you. You owed so much to them. You want to make them proud. You want to learn all you can and show them just what you can do, to show them that their faith and love in you is not misplaced.

The more time you spend together the more you come to realize just how fundamental the soulmate bond is. Your complete match is something that is so hard to explain. It is like the other person is ‘perfect' for you. They understand you without having to exchange a lot of words. You are more than just compatible it is as if you were made for one another. You compensated for the shortcomings and together, you were much stronger than you were alone. It was natural that you fell for him. He was amazing. He had fully immersed himself in the world of music and extended his hand to you. He took care of you just little things like he had brought a throw into his studio once he noticed you wearing your jacket. He made sure that the studio had the brand of tea you liked even though he didn't drink or like tea. Just little things that made it impossible for you not to fall in love with him but with that knowledge, you were also scared. He had clearly laid out what this relationship was to be. He had stressed that it was to be a professional, working relationship; nothing more. It would be.. unwise of you to expect anything more from him but despite how hard you fought it, you found yourself slipping further and further.

It was an afternoon like any other and like many of those that had already passed. You were a little early to meet Jaebum at the studio but you didn't mind working on your own lyrics while he tended to other things. You were about to knock on the door when you could hear the muffled sound of Jaebum talking to someone on the phone.  You were about to walk away when you heard your name mentioned. You were curious and pressed your ear to the door.

"No, she isn't a distraction. I know we're spending a lot of time together but she's good for my music."

"Yes, I understand."

"No, it isn't like that. There is nothing romantic between us. It is a purely professional relationship."

"With her, I can hear everything. The music. All of it. That's the only reason I'm keeping her around."

"Yeah. Ok. I'll talk to you later."

You were barely able to pull away from the door when it swung open. Jaebum regarded you with wide eyes as you tried to play it off like you had just arrived.

"Uh… did you just get here?" He asked hesitantly.

"Yeah! I just got here literally just before you opened the door." You answered, a little too brightly for it to seem natural. You could tell that Jaebum didn't quite buy your act but he let it slide nonetheless. He stepped aside and you walked into the studio like you had all the times before as you both got down to work. Things were off. You could both tell that but you both refused to address it. You were both stubborn as you pushed through but the day was simply not productive. No matter what the two of you tried you were just out of sync and no matter what you did, you couldn't seem to get into the flow of things.

Jaebum pushed his hand through his hair irritatedly and sighed for the millionth time that day.

"Let's just call it a day. Nothing is happening and we are just getting more frustrated." he reasoned which you totally agreed with. You nodded slowly sitting there.

"Hey, _________, are you ok?" he asked concerned as he reached out to touch your arm. You jerk your arm away and Jaebum's facial expression changed, becoming confused and maybe a flash of hurt across his eyes that disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.

"Sorry. I just. I don't feel well." you said hurriedly as you gathered your things. "I'm just going to go home," you said. Not waiting to hear his answer, you push open the door and escaped. You were walking quickly to the exit when you heard Jaebum calling your name.

"_________! Wait up!"

But still, your gait didn't slow. You hailed a taxi and climbed in, giving him your address, you drove off as Jaebum exited the building and stood there. You watch his figure become smaller and smaller in the side mirror and you can't help but feel terrible.

"I shouldn't have done that. I'm so stupid," you mutter to yourself, blinking back your tears. You shouldn't have had any expectations of him. It wasn't his fault that you fell for him. He never asked you to. Why did it hurt so much that he was expressing how professional your relationship was with his manager? Or you assumed it was his manager. For all, you knew it could be his girlfriend. But still, the ache in your chest you felt in the closet returned. You felt so incredibly stupid. Not only did you manage to make yourself look like a fool, you could've potentially just jeopardized the best shot you had at making something of yourself in this industry all because you just couldn't get your head on straight.

You cried silently in the back of the taxi and thankfully, the taxi driver didn't ask why.

The streak of unprofessionalism continued. You couldn't bear to be in the same room as him. You kept canceling your appointments and trying to reschedule things to a point where Jaebum had to call you.

"What is going on _________? Do you not want to pursue a career in this anymore?" Jaebum asked pointedly.

It took a second before you could make your vocal chords obey. "No. It's not that. I just. I. I don't know." you answered softly.

"I don't know is not good enough. They won't accept I don't know's from you when you have deadlines to meet! What are you thinking?!" Jaebum started to scold you.

You let him continue to ramble on, talking about how irresponsible you were being and how you were sabotaging yourself and if you wanted this you couldn't act like that.

"... is it true what you said the other day?" You ask your voice barely above a whisper.

"What are you talking about _________?" You could hear the irritation in his voice. You would be irritated too if you were him.

"When you told whoever you were talking to on the phone that you were just keeping me around so you could work on your music." You said.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"The other day. You told someone you only kept me around so you could work on your music. That you … " you couldn't bring yourself to say the words ‘not romantically interested' because if he confirmed them, then there would be no solace for you.

"Is that what all of this is about?" Jaebum asked. "Of course I don't keep you around just for that. I… I care about you." he said.

"But do you just care for me like you would a friend?" you asked, a burst of courage coming out of nowhere.

"Of course I care about you as a friend… you know me better than anyone else _________. Are we not friends?" he asked.

You sighed. You felt so foolish. It was clear that your feelings were one-sided and now you looked like an idiot.

"_________? Are you still there?" Jaebum asked, worry in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm still here. Um, I gotta go." You said abruptly.

"What? But we haven't addressed the issue of whether or not we are going to meet our deadlines. You can't just go _________. You have to be a profes--"

You hung up. Only when the tears fell on the screen of your phone in your lap did you realize you were crying. You were being such a big baby about this but why did it have to hurt so much? Surely you wouldn't cry as much if it didn't hurt like this. Your phone vibrated in your hand as Jaebum's name flashed across your screen. He was trying to call you back but you hit decline. You didn't care that you were being irresponsible right now. He had been able to compose before you met and surely he'd be able to compose afterwards too. You were of no consequence to him. You were strong and independent and somehow when you were around him you forgot that. You found yourself wanting to rely on him too much. You looked forward to seeing him just, too much. You had let him in regardless of your boundaries and now you were the only one that was hurt.

You had to end things. You would find a different way to break into the industry without his help. It wasn't like you could unfind your soulmate. You knew who he was. He would always be there but it hurt too much to be around him and know that he didn't reciprocate your feelings. You didn't want to be that sappy dumb girl that yearned for a boy that would never love her back. That wasn't who you were! You copped out and wrote Jaebum a text explaining that unfortunately, you wouldn't be able to continue working with him because your bandmates really needed you and that you didn't want to let them down. You told him you appreciated the opportunity he had given you by letting you work with him and you'd make sure to carry on everything he had taught you.

You didn't give him a chance to reply before you blocked his number for good measure. You didn't need him contacting you to try to sway your decision. This is what you wanted to do. This would be the best thing for the both of you. He could continue on being an award-winning composer and you would find a way to sing again.

Your bandmates were excited to have you back. They tried to ask you about your experience but after some clipped answers, they dropped it. The days drifted by until the ache was less painful until it was just a dull thrum in your chest. You knew what you wanted. You knew why your soul ached. It wanted to be with Jaebum. You wanted to be with Jaebum but he didn't want to be with you. So you pushed on. You lived every day, just day by day, concentrating on producing music with your band and practicing singing the best you could.

There was an up and coming showcase for the agency that Jaebum worked for and it was revealed that Jaebum would be performing. Actually doing a live performance at this showcase which was absolutely unheard of for him. Despite yourself, you bought a ticket. Just because you weren't talking to him didn't mean you couldn't come and support him. You knew how hard he worked despite his reputation as a womanizer. You knew just how much music meant to him and how far he would go to produce his music so you could do this little bit for him. It was actually very hard to secure a ticket given the novelty of Jaebum's face reveal but luckily you were able to secure a ticket with one of the staff that remembered you used to work with Jaebum. You thanked her profusely and she ensured that it was no trouble at all.

The night of the performance you were a bundle of nerves. It had been a few weeks since you had seen him but you were sure he was even more nervous than you. You were attending the event alone and it didn't take you long to find your seat.  You looked over the program and you saw the Jaebum was closing out the show which made sense since he was the main attraction. You also knew that Jaebum would know that you were here. In this building because you would both be able to hear all the acts tonight without any hindrance. The knot in your stomach only tightened when the lights dimmed and the show began.

Everyone had been spectacular. You could see everyone's hard work paying off and all those long hours of practice, they were finally able to show off all that they had been working for. You clapped enthusiastically for each act as it concluded and when it was time for the final performance of the night, you thought that you were going to throw up. Jaebum walked on stage dressed sharply as a single spotlight followed him over to the piano that had been set up for him at center stage. He sat down and adjusted the mic.

"This song is for someone that I undervalued. When I thought what they gave me was all I could accept and only when they left did I realize the void that they had left behind."

With those final words, your song filled the auditorium. Correction. It was the song you and he had been working on and the one you had abandoned halfway through. He had finished it. He was singing your lyrics. You were crying again but you weren't the only one. Many of the people around you were tearing up at the song. This was the power of music. The ability to be able to touch so many souls and convey such moving emotions. It was so powerful that you just felt swept up. Though Jaebum was known for composing and producing, his voice was like honey. It was smooth and rich and so warm. It enveloped you and made you crave more.  It felt like an eternity had passed but at the same time, it feels like it ended too soon as the final notes lingered in the air.

When Jaebum was done, he got up, bowed and exited. The roar of the applause was deafening as you excused yourself. You had been an idiot. You knew you were an idiot but now it was confirmed. You needed to see him. You gathered your dress in your hand as your excused yourself and ran backstage. You ran down what seemed to be a million endless hallways and ran into half a dozen security guards. You kept getting stopped and then you saw him. Your eyes met and he froze.

"_________?" He asked unsure as if he were seeing a ghost.

"Um. Hi." You said waving awkwardly. You look up at the security guard and with a grunt, he let you pass.

"_________. I can't believe you're here." Jaebum muttered as you made a beeline towards him.

"I'm going to kiss you." You said looking Jaebum straight in the eye. "If you don't want me to. Say no. But if you don't, I am going to kiss you." you said. Jaebum's eyes widened but he didn't say no and he didn't walk away. You stood up on your tiptoes and moved your face closer to his, giving him plenty of time to pull away before you pressed your lips against his. The kiss was tentative at first. You were hesitant and it was nothing more than the two of you pressing your lips against each other's but when Jaebum's started to move against yours, it changed.

His kiss grew hungry as his arms wrapped around you and pressed you up against a wall. It was only when the security guard cleared his throat that the two of you separated. Jaebum cleared his throat sheepishly.

"Um. Ok. Yeah. Me too." He grinned holding onto your hand tightly. "Do you want to go talk in private? Back at my place or something? Or your place? Someplace not here?" he asked.

"I vote not here. Not here would be great." the security guard quipped.

You couldn't help the giggle that came out as Jaebum grabbed your hand and ducked out of the nearest exit. You were able to hail a taxi in no time at all and sat on your best behavior in the backseat despite Jaebum giving you seductive glances. Through the whole taxi ride, your hands never left each other and it took no time at all for you to reach Jaebum's apartment. It did, however, take him a little bit of fumbling with the keys before he finally got the door unlocked.

Once he got you inside of the apartment Jaebum gathered you up in his arms and kissed you, hard, and hungry. "I should've done this the first time I saw you. This was the only thing I could think about seeing you on stage. Just how incredible you were." He said in between his kisses. You laughed and turned around.

"How about you help me out of this dress?" You asked moving your hair from the zipper found at the back of the dress. Jaebum laughed as he unzipped your dress and it slipped off your shoulders. It didn't take much longer for the both of you to find yourselves free of all hindrances and on Jaebum's bed.

His hands roamed your body, his fingers ghosted against your flex and found themselves soon against the apex of your thighs. Your breath hitched as you felt his finger press and dip against you, eliciting a soundless moan as your lips parted. Jaebum took advantage of that fact as he started kissing you again, invading your mouth with his tongue as he left his imprint on you. His finger delved into you as you reached down and wrapped your own hand around his hardened length. Jaebum groaned against your neck.

"Yes… just like that. That feels so good." Jaebum cooed. You could feel the wetness between your legs start to pool. You needed him. You needed him so desperately.

"Jaebum… please. I want you." You begged softly. His eyes twinkled with delight as he rolled over to his nightstand and retrieved a condom. Once he had it, he maneuvered himself between his legs. You widened your legs for him and when you were relaxing, preparing yourself to be filled to the brim with him, you felt his tongue on you instead.

"Jaebum!" You moaned, throwing your head back and clutching the blanket underneath you. Your breath was coming in pants as he stroked and parted you using his tongue, his fingers expertly dipping in and out of you, mimicking what would happen in just a few moment.

"Oh, baby you taste so good." Jaebum purred against you. Your fingers entangled themselves in his hair as your back arched.

"Please Jaebum… I need you inside of me. Please… I won't last much longer." you plead and he obliged. Sheathing himself, he lined up to your entrance and in one fluid movement, entered you.

"Ah…" he groaned out appreciatively.

The sound of Jaebum's hips hitting yours echoed off the walls and it was a sound you would never get tired of hearing. His lips closed around a hardened nipple which only made you wrap your legs around him. Jaebum chuckled softly, adjusting to this new position but he didn't let it slow him down much. If anything, it only increased his pace as a thin sheen of sweat covered both of your bodies.

"Baby, I'm not going to last much longer…" he groaned, burying his face into the crook of his neck, the slight shift in angling had him now hitting that special spot inside of you that made you feel like you were going to explode. You couldn't even formulate the words to answer him back but instead, a strangled cry erupted from you as stars exploded behind your closed eyes. Jaebum tensed and grunted loudly as he too, reached his climax. He laid atop of you trying to brace his weight on his elbows as you both caught your breath. Jaebum kissed the tip of your nose as he rolled over. You chuckled slightly as you stretched out, feeling better than you had in a long time. After Jaebum cleaned up, he brought you a towel to wipe off the sweat. He pulled you gently towards his body and held you close.

"I… didn't think this was going to happen," Jaebum admitted softly. "Before you, there was only the music for me. That's all I wanted out of life and I guess that's why I didn't realize..  Just what you meant to me until you went berserk." he chuckled.

You gasped in indignation and slapped Jaebum's arm playfully. "I didn't go berserk!" you defended.

"Let's not kid ourselves. You definitely lost it for a little bit there." He chuckled. "But I'm glad you did because if you didn't, you wouldn't have been able to break the composure of the composer." he laughed.

You grinned like a fool as you cuddled closer to Jaebum, holding onto him. "I think I love you," you said softly.

Jaebum's arms wrapped tighter around you. "I guess with a soulmate bond it's pretty inevitable huh… I never expected someone like you to come into my life but I'm glad you did. You bring a soundtrack all your own and now it's all I can hear. I love you _________."

[drgnrder82]

The Demons Within (X-Men Fanfic)

Chapter 4

(Author's note: This chapters starts some darker, more violent battles. While there is no gore there is a particularly dark encounter against the female protagonist, Doc, at the end.)

Waning warm days meant only a few chances left to wear she shorter pants and sandals she’d been given by Wong before she’d left Kamar-Taj. More current ones than what she’d been used to. Doc didn’t particularly care about fashion but she wanted to fit in.

Wild squash vines took over the patch of ground at Doc’s feet. She’d been picking them as fast as possible every day and still there were more. She was surrounded by mutants, she didn’t put it past the vegetable patch to have gleaned some mutant abilities.

They might get sick of eating summer squash but she could see no reason to allow these go to waste. Also, if anyone complained they could make their own dinner.

She’d found a few berry bushes growing wild. Those would be great for breakfast. Compote or…

The hairs on the back of Doc’s neck prickled with cold. A shift happened both from the temperature change and feeling who was behind her.

“I don’t have anything else to say to you.” Doc flexed her fingers. If he was going to bug her she was going to quicken the pace and go back inside where Mordo wouldn’t follow. He didn’t want to be seen by the people she chose to be with.

“Esme, you are still a child…”

There it was. That damn word again.

“You do not need to mistake my lack of experience for being infantile.”

“What would you call this?” Mordo shot back.

Doc held the basket against her stomach, she’d slipped her fingers through the dull gold ring on her waistband. The ring drew a line across her index and middle finger glinted in the sun. The portal she opened silent. Not even a whipping wind lapped at the gaping, sparking hole as Doc sent a whip of light out with her free hand striking Mordo in the chest, straight into a bank of snow on the top of the Canadian Rockies.

She’d been there for training. The Ancient One loved cold weather and the view in the mountains. Also believed people learned quicker when their lives were in mortal peril.

Two whips made of crackling light snared Doc by her wrists and dragged her through the closing portal. She threw the basket in the snow without a second thought.

“We are not gods, Mordo! And I want to experience life!” Ice bit her feet. She fought through. Kicking out at Mordo. She was too far to touch him with her foot but her control had grown. They were protected by a wall of the mountain from the screaming wind. Esme could produce her own. Knocking Mordo off his feet, into a pristine bank. “I want to feel human. Even if I’m not. I grew up in the walls of Kamar-Taj.” He couldn’t ever understand. He had had a life. He had a wife and lost her and his way and ended up, like all the others in the Mystic (whatever they’re called). Unseen energy propelled Mordo from the snow, leaving a flurry to fall on them both. “I am not more superior to them than you. Any of them can learn what we know.”

She’d hit him hard. Mordo fought to catch his breath. “They cannot learn what you know. You must be…”

“Protected?” Doc screeched. “I am nothing more special than you.”

Mordo struck out with another bead of energy and Doc blocked it first with wind then again with her own brand of energy.

“This, what you are doing, is nothing but an idle musing of a child. What of us?”

“What of you?” Snow whirled around Mordo, which he cut away at it systematically melting what she surrounded him with. “You do not need me to keep the peace! And if you do I shall heed the call.”

Doc changed the draft, blinding Mordo while another dragged Mordo’s foot out from under him. Dangling him over the edge. It would be a small drop. She wasn’t trying to kill the man. Just make him understand she wasn’t going home. Not yet. It’s not like this was forever!

“This is madness!”

Full Chapter can be found here on AO3.

[opinionatedduck]

2018 Sample Pack Read-along

Here’s a read along guide to the 2018 Sample Pack playlist found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6oCU7Q8EOuxP752UbedA5U

I tried to pick a single track which best represents each of the 40 albums I reviewed from 2018, and here I give a little reasoning for each choice with a line or two about the song and album. The playlist flows from genres broadly definable as;

Rap from ‘Come Back Baby’ to ‘Kevin’s Heart’

Experimental from ‘Alarm Song’ to ‘Tunnels In The Air’

Pop from ‘Something for Your M.I.N.D.’ to ‘High Hopes’

and Rock from ‘Tic Tac Toe’ onward.

Although to label some of these is difficult and to put them all into a cohesive playlist was a little tricky.

Come Back Baby by Pusha T

One of my favourite tracks of 2018, from my most highly rated album topping the playlist. Chosen as it's a great display of Push's lyricism and flow coupled with an undoubtedly Kanye West sounding chorus with the signature stripped back beats on Push's verses. All key things present throughout Daytona.

White Label by Nas

To continue with another one of the album's Kanye produced in 2018, I picked out this track from Nasir as although the album has some drastically different sounding tracks, in my opinion lyrics and production on White Label epitomises what the duo were trying to portrait with this record.

Rose In Harlem by Teyana Taylor

The third Kanye produced track in a row, you can see where this is going. Another top notch production but that shouldn't take anything away from Teyana, who's singing and rapping on this track knock you back if it's your first time hearing her and act as a great introduction if you're unfamiliar.

Ghost Town by Kanye West feat. PARTYNEXTDOOR

Kanye explores a lot of themes on this project but a lot of them stem from his experience with mental health issues, and although I won't agree that bipolar disorder is a superpower (or slavery was a choice) he does get some potent points across on this album. Ghost Town is a great example of this as the song explores abandoning all sense of purpose and the freeing yet numb feels that come from that.

Freeee (Ghost Town Pt. 2) by KIDS SEE GHOSTS feat. Ty Dolla $ign

I couldn't help put these two tracks one after another. Not necessarily the best track on the album and my least favourite of the albums thus far, but it's a decent continuation on the main themes of Ghost Town with added Kudi.

Big Shot (with Travis Scott) by Kendrick Lamar

I tried to pick out a track from the eclectic Black Panther album that was not only a good rap track but also had that Wakanda (not a real place) feel that Kendrick tries to cultivate with this project. I think this one ticks both those boxes, and as a standalone track is very worthy of listens.

Shattered Dreams by Earl Sweatshirt

This album is a bit of a minefield with it's bad mixing, which I feel drowns out Earl a lot with those higher raspier sounds ringing through the mix, and very choice spastic beats. This opener, Shattered Dreams, showcases both of these flaws but without being entirely unenjoyable.

DISTRICT by BROCKHAMPTON

Only picked this one as it's a standout on the album. There isn't really one track that brings together the different parts of the album well, which was one of my issues with it, however this does kind of blend aspects of their boy-band and rap collective personas and as a standalone is memorable.

The Ringer by Eminem

This one opens the album and sums up what Em aims to achieve with the album to me. Which is diss everyone who didn't enjoy his last few lacklustre albums, slam said albums too and try to get back on top. Does an okay job at ticking some of those boxes however much of the album doesn't.

SWITCH IT UP by Denzel Curry

Denzel has two very different styles on this album however he smoothly transitions but usually does so track or tracks at a time. Some of the more trap heavy tracks I suspect aren't as easy accessible but this one has a certain edge balancing a little more than others.

Toy by Young Fathers

Amazing track by an outstandingly consistent group. Toy is not only a spectacular tune but it's a perfect track to sum up their distinct sound not just on this album, but across their career thus far. Might just be my favourite track of 2018.

Tints (feat. Kendrick Lamar) by Anderson .Paak

The sun-drenched vibes of Oxnard are most noticeable on first listen of Tints. This track was teased shortly before the album release and the Kendrick feature blends really well with Paak's style. Wouldn't necessarily say it's the best track on the album but the one that most encapsulates the feel.

Kevin's Heart by J. Cole

Maybe not the track to represent J Cole's usual style but this track is in a league of it's own and still showcases J Cole's lyricism and flow. It deals with a recurring theme on the album of having multiple paths down which you could go. Here Cole is torn between trying clean up his act and kick a difficult habit (drugs & cheating) to better serve his partner and their relationship, but his addiction lures him into temptation of not only the euphoric aspects of drug abuse, but with the validation in being desirable and wanted.

Alarm Song by Littlebabyangel

This was my first run in with Littlebabyangel and this opener really sets you up for an experimental and unsettling RnB experience. I couldn't help draw parallels with The Weeknd, but this track and many other venture into a darker more dissonant territory.

Faceshopping by SOPHIE

SOPHIE's music is really out there and I've been following her for a long time now. Faceshopping, like her breakout hit Lemonade, is probably one of those tracks that tests listeners and takes a very specific palette to enjoy. I won't be offended if you have to skip this one.

In The Next Life by Kim Petras

This album really reminds me of Charlie XCX and specifically work she has done with SOPHIE. It's definitely more accessible however and has more elements of synthwave and electro in than those predecessors.

Adam & The Evil* by Clarence Clarity

Clarence Clarity is a real genre shiftier, but there's always something a little hip-hop about his production style. Maybe it's all in the ear of the beholder but across the album it keeps those vibes, mixed with some glitch.

the green by Ben Khan

Slowing things down a little, Ben Khan's very chilled electronic music is infused with his love of playing the guitar which features prominently on this track. Although the project is quite easy listening there's some very subtle technicalities & great little ditties on this album.

Tunnels In The Air by Louis Cole feat. Thundercat

A very unexpected feature from Thundercat blends seamlessly into Louis Cole's funk synth album here. Louis Cole who you might know from his viral video: Bank Account (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAH4zGd_W1s)

Something For Your M.I.N.D. by Superorganism

The first track of their's I ever heard and one that truly sums up the fun this collective have creating their music and the trippy psychedelic atmosphere they create on the album. Those distinctive bends and slides on the guitar and random 'concrète' soundbites littered throughout are staples of their sound and heavily present throughout this debut.

Don't You Know I'm In a Band by Confidence Man

Clearly another fun project for all those involved. The funny, tongue-in-cheek lyrics here with the utter bopage of their funky pop is a fine example of what to expect on Confident Music for Confident People. I'm confident of that. Get it?

Baby I'm A Queen by Sofi Tukker

Another album favourite makes it into the playlist. This time from Dance Rocker's Sofi Tukker. This one showcases Sofi's vocal ability more than some others and also has a great quiet/loud contrast.

All For You by Years & Years

There's a good chance you've heard most of this album already as it's wall to wall singles. All For You hits somewhere in between their darker sounding Sanctuary, more reminiscent of their first album, and something like If You're Over Me which is super cheesy pop.

She Loves Control by Camila Cabello

Decided not to pick Havana or Never Again as they have been huge singles in the last year. She Loves Control is one of the more fun tracks, as opposed to plethora of ballad-y tracks on here. It's got a bit of dancehall/latin vibe with some underlying Spanish guitar flares.

sex money feelings die by Lykke Li

As described by the album title much of these tracks are sad but sexy. Harnessing elements of pop, rnb and at times hip-hop it features mostly sombre downbeat vocals. I was pleasantly surprised by the album and this is a prime example of what to expect.

Teenage Fantasy by Jorja Smith

I could probably pick almost any track on this album to give as an example of what to expect as it's super consistent and very distinctive. Jorja has a powerful jazzy vocal full of soul and the album has this great RnB backing to amplify it. You could draw comparisons between her sound and Amy Winehouse's and I fully expect this album to launch her into the forefront more than she already is, having already featured on Kendrick's Black Panther project, as well as alongside Drake and Kanye before this debut dropped.

Breathe by Seinabo Sey

I've picked, this time, a track I expect more to showcase Seinabo rather than what this album has to offer. There's a lot of forgettable stuff on here, but this one seems more like something she would have done on her previous release, but does still gel well on this album. Soulful, poppy and a great display of her vocal talent.

Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) by Fall Out Boy

Fall Out Boy lack consistency on this album, I feel like tracks like this one hit a line where they can draw in more fans from a commercially accessible sound without pulling too far from those emo infused pop-punk days. Although this album as a whole does have a lot of misses, not what they once wanted to be known for.

High Hopes by Panic! At The Disco

No surprise to have these two next to each other as both bands are from similar roots looking to do a similar thing, open themselves up to a wider audience and develop their sound into another generation. This track is exactly how to do that, however for me the album as a whole was nowhere near as consistent as this track unfortunately, like other Panic! albums before it.

Tic Tac Toe by Django Django

I probably favoured this track as it's one on Marble Skies that sounds like it would fit as a bonus track on their self-titled debut I fell in love with. Django Django try a few different things on this album but they are best when they sound like this in my opinion.

Everyone Acts Crazy Nowadays by Unknown Mortal Orchestra

A prime example of UMO's lo-fi psychedelic influenced pop-rock. This album sticks in this territory a little more than their previous effort Multi-Love which was a little more varied but is still a great listen.

Warsaw by DMA'S

Australian Britpop isn't something I expected to be talking about in 2018, alas DMA'S here give something that sounds like an instant classic reminiscent of those early Britpop bands I grew up surrounded by.

Golden Trunks by Arctic Monkeys

A big departure from their humble beginnings Arctic Monkeys successfully/unsuccessfully (delete where applicable) attempt to create a desolate deep space John Cooper Clarke themed hotel in which they appear to be the resident David Bowie cover band. This one sounding more like a tribute than some other, does a decent job at evoking that atmosphere they are conjuring.

Daddy's Boy by Electric Six

Electric Six haven't really grown, or grown up much despite accruing at this point 14 albums. It's fun, it's silly, it's formulaic but it works because it's Dick Valentine and crew.  You probably already have an opinion of Electric Six, and this track and album won't change that.

Backseat Driver by White Denim

I could've plucked any track from blues rockers White Denim's Performance and it would be one of my favourites on this list but there's something about Backseat Driver that feels classic but refreshingly new simultaneously.

Ace of Aces by The Fearless Flyers

Anyone who know Vulfpeck would feel The Fearless Flyers are very familiar. And that's because they are almost exactly the same thing, save for a few guest musicians and a lack of vocalist. Ace of Aces is the funky starting point of this tight funk rock EP and it never really looses up, this track is a little stronger than some others which include a few covers/variations.

Almost Had to Start a Fight/In and Out of Patience by Parquet Courts

I couldn't pick a favourite from Wide Awake!, so I picked this two-in-one. Their brand of garage rock is seldom heard anywhere else, with uniquely gritty vocals from lead Savage. So much so I don't really have any comparisons to draw. Just listen to it.

Julia (or, 'Holy to the LORD' on Bells of Horses) by mewithoutYou

mewithoutYou are a post-hardcore outfit I grew up with and probably one of the lesser knowns in this list, even by avid music listeners. As a backdrop; they draw a lot of their lyricism from biblical stories and explore themes like what it means to be a Christian and often about how burdening it can be and the difficulties people in these stories go through rather than the more often heard preachy sides. As a band their sound has changed a lot over their career but this album brings their roots and elements heard on later releases and blends them together well, although this track is more reminiscent of their early works.

Stay Ignorant by DON BROCO

DON BROCO seem to be evolving in a way I didn't expect with Technology. Some of their most heavy moments are seen throughout, hence why I picked this track, with more electronic drums and synths being added into the mix without deviating from their original Pop Rock meets Post-Hardcore sound.

Alchemy | Terra Incognita by Poly-Math

Saving the longest for last. Fans of bands like Mars Volta, whom Poly-Math definitely sound like at times on this track/album, will be familiar with these kinds of epic tracks with huge build-ups between their themes which each last 'regular' track lengths, but not all will. Other than Mars Volta, Poly-Math remind me too of Fall of Troy with Prog/Math Rock elements.

[wayward-wheels-blog]

Where Are My Keys?

She’s My Rider - Chapter III

Words: 3,061

Author’s Note: Am I the only one who sees the scenes in their head first and just tries to write it down? That last one reminded me that I forget to go back, take out the blocking, and add the subtext. Maybe it’s the theater kid in me. 

So … here’s a little more sub with your text.

Read Chapter I and Chapter II

There was no way in hell Dean was sleeping with Baby. Nope. No way. That was entirely too weird. He’d seen that show about taboo stuff where the dude fell in love with his hotrod, and he was not going to be that guy. He felt a little guilty for even thinking about it. A little. Rowena was right about one thing, though. Baby had power. It had been implied every which way from Sunday, and anyway, she wouldn’t be walking around on two legs <i>looking</i> like that if there wasn’t some serious mojo going on there. He went back through what Rowena said on his way back to the motel. Apparently, Sam and Baby had opted to walk.

She’s as powerful as they come, if she wants to be. But it was up to him? How in the hell did that make any kind of sense? Then he remembered that Castiel had flipped out on her the first night they brought her home. If he knew what she was, maybe he knew where to find the on-switch that sparked her power up. Whatever her power was. It was starting to feel futile and his head was starting to hurt. Whether it was from the whiskey or yelling at Baby, he didn’t know.

When he got to the room,  it looked like Sam had just been sitting there, waiting to pounce and scold. “I know,” Dean said before he could start. “I was a dick.” Sam wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that. He was clearly expecting the angry, stubborn version of his brother to walk through the door. “Uh, yeah. You were. And-” “I’ve gotta stop treating her like a child,” Dean cut him off. “I get it.” “Look, I know you’re worried about something happening to her. I’m worried too, but at some point, we’re gonna have to take off the training wheels.” Sam watched his brother pull off his jacket, but he was really watching him grapple with bigger things that had sufficiently worn him out.

“And she’s right,” he said. “She’s been here protecting us this whole time, but she was usually stuck outside when the really bad stuff went down.” That last bit slowed Dean down on his way to the mini-fridge and once he processed it, it stopped him altogether. He’d never considered that and he should have. Damnit. “You know she worries about us as much as we worry about her, right? As much as we worry about each other. B had to sit there, every time we got out of the car, and just … hope that we came back.” Sam bounced his brows at his brother, urging him to really think about that.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Dean that Baby thought a little too much like he did. He figured that was appropriate, given what she was, and with that in mind he knew Sam was right. “She’s tired of being on the bench, Dean.” The weight of Baby’s struggle dropped low in his stomach. He, of all people, should have known better. Idling on the curb while his family got bloody would have driven him batshit crazy. “ … Son of a bitch.” “Yeah,” Sam said, but what he really said was, “Now you’re getting it.”

–

Baby combed through the latest news updates looking for anything that sounded remotely hellhound’ish. So far, things had remained quiet for the evening. Maybe the hounds were full … which meant she had to find something else to keep her from brooding about the way Dean had been acting.

Gabriel had given her a body, but no compass to help her figure out what she was supposed to be doing. She only knew that she had a purpose, she had something to contribute, more than just being a proverbial tank. Things had gone so well when she first “woke up,” for lack of a better term. The boys put the world back on its axis, Mary was back, she was there … even Castiel couldn’t help but surrender to it, and to the fact that Baby was clearly family. They started to train her in whatever she didn’t know and she got a tattoo that she was fairly certain half the Midwest would mistake for a pentagram, and her a devil worshiper. The boys started with small hunts for her to cut her teeth on, made sure she knew how to handle herself, before they got back to scouring media the way they always did.   

When Lucifer came back, everything changed. The car was locked away in a shipping container that had every kind of ward you could think of on it, and if over-protective had a gear Sam and Dean kicked it up to fifth. Baby was unaccustomed to being the one who needed protection and she decided immediately that she didn’t like it one bit, but hard as she tried, she couldn’t prove them wrong.   She wanted to tell Dean who he was, to her anyway, but she’d never been able to form cohesive sentences that explained it. There weren’t really words for it, and Baby didn’t think she should tell him that if he died, she would die, or that she was only as limited as he wanted her to be. As far as her existence was concerned, he might as well be the sun.

She surfed through all of the television stations before she gave up and scrolled down to the channels that doubled as radio stations. She chose one that claimed you could “get the blues all day long” to find BB King wailing on Lucille to the tune of “The Thrill is Gone.” It made her nostalgic. God, she missed proper radio stations.

When the knock came, she knew who it was before she opened the door.   He always apologized. Baby pulled the door open to reveal a sheepish looking Dean with his hands tucked into his pockets and his shoulders curled, that quickly turned into a normal looking Dean with weirdly perfect, military posture. She waited, and he finally said, “Can I come in?”

–

The second Dean left the room, Sam lifted his phone back to his ear. “Cas, are you still there?”

“Yes,” came the grumbled reply. “Sam, if these really are Matilda’s hounds and she’s with them? Dean and Baby may very well be the only way to stop them.” Sam was staring at an artistic representation of Matilda and the Cwn Annwn on his laptop and a knowing worry began to creep up that back of his neck. “Why?” “Because,” Castiel sighed. “The hounds are to Matilda what B is to Dean. Hounds represented her lineage. She was one of the greatest hunters who ever lived, and it sounds to me like they’ve been released for a reason.”

Sam slowly lifted to his feet and he had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer when he asked, “What do you mean?” He heard a scuffle on the other end of the phone and he thought he heard Cas and his mother arguing in reigned in tones before he heard her say, “Give me that.” “To smoke her out, Sam.” Mary said. “Apparently, it hasn’t gone unnoticed that the Impala hasn’t been on the road in a while.” “Wait, what?” “Word’s out that we killed the original vampire, and since almost everyone thinks the colt is gone-” “They think it has something to do with B,” Sam picked up.

“Sam …” Mary’s voice dropped. “Are we sure it doesn’t?” He didn’t have much experience with having a mother, but Sam assumed it was normal when that annoyed irritation shot through him, because he was pretty sure it was a feeling only a mother could produce. “Mom-” “I know what she is,” Mary cut him off. Castiel said her name with a warning in the background. Sam didn’t know what to say. “You and Dean head back to the bunker,” Mary said before she hung up. “I think it’s time for a family meeting.”

–

Baby sighed the way most girls do at insufferable men and stepped back out of Dean’s way. She really was … so human. It was hard now to imagine that she’d ever been made of metal, hard to remember what it felt like when she was … well, a car. He remembered the sense that he was where he belonged and that, however twisted his world got, he could straighten it out as long as he had the Impala. Only he didn’t see his badass car come to life anymore, because now she was made of tender flesh and breakable bones.     When he turned to look at Baby again, he flipped it all in reverse. He tried to see the years in her, the experiences she must have had, the highs and lows that the Winchesters put her through. He tried … and he failed. She just looked so innocent. So young.

“Seventy-seven,” he said.   She wasn’t expecting that one. “What?” “I’m 77 years old,” Dean said. “What felt like four months to you when I was gone was forty years for me, so, technically I’m an old man.” He could see her adding things up in her frown. Gone. <i>Hell.</i> When it clicked, her eyes rounded at him and he felt a little bad for bringing it up.     Dean had the ability to smile without smiling. You could see the muscles twitch with the effort but it was almost like the smile was too heavy. But the intention was there. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong,” he said. “But that gives me almost thirty years on you.”

He wondered if this would cause her to see him the way he saw her, like the cover was pretty but the pages were filled with scary things and uncharted territory. “I know I act like some horny, high school dropout half the time, and I know what I look like, but … I don’t feel like what I look like.” For the first time, maybe ever, she seemed to have no idea what to say to him. “Dean, why are you telling me this?” “Because.” He took a second to gather his thoughts. “Sam reminded me just now that you’ve been you for a lot longer than you’ve been human … and it hit me that I’ve been doing to you what everyone else did to me ten years ago.” Dean stepped back and motioned with his hand, up and down her body. “I look at you and I see some young, twenty-something bombshell that for all intents and purposes should be privy to Victoria’s secrets, not a girl that should be elbow-deep in death and violence with me and Sam.” “But that is where I should be,” Baby said. “It’s where I want to be.” Dean forced a smile that still didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “I know.” “So … you’re gonna let me come with you to talk to Crowley?”

Dean stayed quiet for longer than what he knew Baby thought was appropriate. He couldn’t get past the thought that he’d done some damage here and he should have known better. These were words he needed to get right, and for a man that barked more than he talked, it took a little more time. “Baby, you’re your own woman,” he said. “You don’t need my permission. You don’t need anyone’s permission. Ever. You make your own rules. If anyone tells you otherwise, you point them my way and we’ll have words.”

Silently he cussed at himself when he realized that was a concept she’d never tried to wrap her mind around. You stupid son of a bitch. That was the kind of thing a woman should know. It was the kind of thing that kept pricks like him from taking advantage. Because they would. Somewhere in the flurry of trying to protect her … he’d steered her wrong.

“What if it’s you that tells me that?” Damn, she was quick. She played chess while he played checkers. “I can’t promise you I won’t try to stop you from doing something I think is stupid. But what I think doesn’t matter. If you think you’re right?” Dean shrugged. He already knew she was smarter than he was. “Go with your gut, because you probably are.”

Baby’s features warmed from confusion to gratitude. That was the look he’d been aiming for and it relieved him a little when he got it, selfish as it was, because it meant he was out of the doghouse. “Besides,” he said. “I hear you’re some cosmic badass so, who am I to get in your way?” Her tone almost sounded sorry for him when she said, “You’re the reason I am who I am. You’re the only person that could get in my way.” That part, he definitely knew. That responsibility had been waking him up at night. “Well, I’m stepping off the asphalt. Highway’s yours.”  

One of those silent conversations passed between them again, an unspoken understanding of what and how they’d decided things were going to be. Afterwards, a small but subtly victorious smile lifted Baby’s features. “You can ride shotgun.” Dean grinned the cheshire-cat grin of a man that knew he was still full of surprises. “Sweetheart, if you think I’m gonna shut my cakehole? Believe me. That dog won’t hunt.”

He’d intended to shut the door behind him, but he turned right into Sam’s wide, worried eyes. “We’ve gotta go.”

–

Somewhere in hell, Crowley was slouched down in a miserably uncomfortable throne wondering why he hadn’t changed it out with something softer, and staring off into nowhere tonguing the self-loathing that kept him going. He’d forgotten Lucifer was there until he heard the mutt’s chains rattle when he shifted positions. “I hear you finally found out about the car,” he said.

Crowley tried to fight the curiosity that begged him to look up at the devil. It irritated him that Lucifer had caught his attention. But what if he knew something? He finally lifted his gaze with a slant that said, ‘This had better be good.’

Lucifer smiled like he was happy to see him and they’d just sat down to afternoon tea. “I hear they haven’t seen her on the road in a while.” “What’s it to you?” “Given I’ve been fighting against her for the souls of mankind for millennia?” The devil shrugged like it wasn’t that big of a deal. “Call it nostalgia.” “Come again?” “You think the Winchesters are the first real heroes I’ve seen rise and fall over the ages? They all come with one of her. Matilda had her hounds, Arthur had Excalibur, the Winchesters have a 1967 Chevrolet Impala,” he chuckled. “Times they are a’changing.”

“Oh yeah? Then, tell me, who was the last great hero you saw fall?” “Adolf Hitler.” Crowley rolled his eyes, “You realize he has a special place here …” “What? You didn’t know Hitler was a hunter before he was a dictator? Funny how they always leave that part out.” Something in Crowley bristled briefly, then, very calmly, he lifted to his feet and idled over to where Lucifer was sitting on the floor, moving in close so that when he hiked up the knees of his slacks and squatted down, he was leaning over the angel who’d fallen the furthest. Crowley’s fingers twitched up in the direction of Lucifer’s throat and the devil grunted. “You’re trying my patience, mutt,” he said while Lucifer’s face turned red. “Get to the point.”

When he pushed to his feet, Lucifer gasped and started sucking down air, released from the king’s Vador grip. “Fine!” Lucifer coughed. “Jeez, talk about work-related stress.” He rubbed at his neck and spoke like the information had been pried out of him against his will. Crowley knew it wasn’t. “Before the swastika was a Nazi thing, it was like her, it was a totem. The only thing left of the line because the surnames had changed over the years. Adolf didn’t know that, the poor schmuck was an artist, so he just thought it was something he’d always been inspired by. He had no idea who he was. What IT was. After the war, he was just a decorated soldier turned drifter who’d learned a thing or two and hunted monsters.”

“I’ve heard the poor-me artist to Sieg Heil, thanks,” Crowley said. “This had better be going somewhere.” “The Thule Society. You’ve heard of them …” “Of course,” Crowley said. “Well, they worked with a guy named Dietrich Eckart back in the day, and he knew exactly who Adolf was. All it took was a little mentoring … a little push in the right direction. Turn him away from the truth of what he could be, use his despair over the plight of his people to convince him all the evils, supernatural or otherwise, come from one enemy.” Lucifer shrugged with his chin as if it were simple. “Hero that he was, Adolf jumps in with both feet and designs the banner for the National Socialist German Worker’s Party using his own personal sigil. People start waving that thing in the streets and the more they wave it, the more Hitler talks, and the more Hitler talks, the further the swastika goes and, before you know it?” Lucifer clapped his hands like his favorite team just scored a touchdown. “Global domination, baby!”

“Let me guess,” Crowley said. “You were Eckart?” “Oh no, that was all Azazel,” Lucifer said as if he’d never take someone else’s credit. “Say what you will, but that guy knows how to pick ‘em.” Crowley stared through a barred window, turning these new insights over in his head. “So you let out the one beastie you thought had a chance of catching her, is that it? You think she’s the key to regaining your kingdom?” Crowley turned back on him, looking at Lucifer like he was so … predictable. “It won’t work. You must have learned by now that the one, surefire way to reap the wrath of the Winchesters is to go after one of their women. Those boys will scorch and salt the earth planet-wide before they let anyone get their hands on that girl.”

Lucifer smiled the smile of a demon that still knew he had cards up his sleeve and said, “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” Just before Crowley twitched his hand and his vertebrae cracked and his eyes were staring behind him.

[newstfionline]

Running Free in Germany’s Outdoor Preschools

By Alice Gregory, NY Times Magazine, May 18, 2017

ONE EARLY MORNING this past February, before the frost melted or the sun fully rose, 20 small children gathered in a scabby municipal park in Pankow, the northernmost borough of Berlin. The sky was gray and the ground was gray, but the children’s cheeks were bright and so were their moods. They ran in circles, shrieked with delight and spent a great deal of time rolling around atop frozen soil as traffic whizzed by just meters away. Their parents, shivering and anxious to get on with the day, paid them little mind. They smiled absent-mindedly and took sips of coffee from environmentally friendly stainless steel to-go cups.

Cuckoo! Cuckoo!

At the sound of the bird call, mimicked loudly and with eerie accuracy by a man in his early 40s named Picco Peters, the children gathered together and formed a tight circle. A spirited round of songs, sung in both English and German, began and was finished off by a chorus of wolf howls. The circle then dissolved and the group’s 15 older children, ranging in age from 3 to 6, marched past a community garden and toward a busy intersection. (The remaining children, who were younger, stayed in the park.) A woman named Christa Baule led the way, carrying a backpack with a three-foot-long branch sticking dangerously out of it; Peters took up the back.

The children continued to chatter until the public bus came, at which point they wordlessly formed a single-file line and climbed in. Ten minutes later, the bus stopped. Everyone was deposited at the entrance of an 84-acre public park and proceeded to run amok.

Robin Hood Waldkindergarten, which opened in 2005, is one of more than 1,500 waldkitas, or “forest kindergartens,” in Germany; Berlin alone has about 20. Most have opened in the last 15 years and are usually located in the city’s parks, with a bare-bones structure serving as a sort of home base, but others, like Robin Hood, rely on public transportation to shuttle their charges daily out into the wilderness, where they spend most of the day, regardless of weather. Toys, typically disparaged at waldkitas, are replaced by the imaginative use of sticks, rocks and leaves. A 2003 Ph.D. dissertation by Peter Häfner at Heidelberg University showed that graduates of German forest kindergartens had a “clear advantage” over the graduates of regular kindergartens, performing better in cognitive and physical ability, as well as in creativity and social development.

The American journalist Richard Louv, who coined the term “nature-deficit disorder” in his 2005 book, “Last Child in the Woods,” is cited often by Robin Hood staff, as is “Coyote’s Guide to Connecting With Nature,” by Jon Young, Ellen Haas and Evan McGown. (“Savage Park,” by Amy Fusselman, is another book that chronicles uninhibited play and was inspired by a visit to an adventure playground in Tokyo.) The pedagogical philosophy of waldkitas, which privileges outdoor play and hands-on environmental learning, comes originally from Scandinavia, but, as one teacher put it to me, “they don’t make a big fuss about it like they do here.” The trend’s non-Teutonic origins are somewhat surprising: There might be nothing “more German” than a state-funded preschool based primarily in a forest.

Germany has nearly three times as much protected land as the U.S., proportionate to the countries’ sizes, a nontrivial fact that highlights the way much of the country thinks about nature and its role in the emotional health of its citizens. “It’s terrible that kids today know all about technology but nothing about the little bird outside their window,” Peters said, gesturing out toward the woods and sounding like any number of quotable Germans, from Goethe to Beethoven to Bismarck, all of whom have rhapsodized on the psychic benefits of spending time in the forest. He continued: “In life, bad things happen--you lose your job or your partner or everyone just hates you--but you’ll always have this.”

AT AROUND 9 A.M., one child discovered a gruesome scene and pulled Baule over. “Ah,” she said, beckoning everyone else over. She pointed to the ground, where a pile of dark feathers lay lumped beneath a fir tree. She asked the children to guess who “killed” the blackbird. One small boy suggested that it was maybe the work of a fox. Baule, the school’s director, pantomimed exaggerated thought. “Well, no,” she said. “See how smooth the quill is?” The boy ran his fingers along the feather and nodded. “That means it was plucked. So the blackbird was killed by a bird of prey, not a fox.”

Within a few minutes, the children were spread out over an expanse of at least 10 acres. Some were jumping from boulders; others were dragging logs through marshland. Most were sucking on filthy icicles that had fallen from the eave of a greenhouse. At Robin Hood, the children are allowed to be out of eyesight of their minders, but not out of earshot. “Being secretive is good for child development,” Peters said. But whenever an adult called out “cuckoo,” the children all dutifully returned from whatever dangerous thing they were doing, which on the day I spent with them included climbing at least 10 feet up a tree and sliding unsupervised across a frozen pond.

“We used to bring very simple things, lengths of rope for instance,” Peters said. “But soon we realized even that wasn’t necessary.” The lack of toys, he explained, means less fighting and more inclusiveness. “They realize that they need friends if they’re going to play.”

By the time a secluded spot had been chosen for breakfast, the childrens’ fingernails were black with dirt, and although it was exceptionally cold nobody was complaining. Instead they all arranged their backpacks into a circle and wandered off in various directions to pee semi-privately, each one undressing out of their snowsuits without help. They returned and took out small Tupperware containers full of fresh produce from their backpacks. Two girls, both under 5, began arranging the fruit into an elaborate mandala atop a wooden tray. They piled carrot coins in the middle and surrounded them with concentric circles of tangerines, bell pepper slices and cucumber sticks; dates went in one corner and apple chunks in another, with a scattering of walnuts on the opposite side of the plate. Baule had encouraged them to organize the food “neatly” but provided no further instructions. The girls did all this slowly and wordlessly, rearranging items when they didn’t like a particular combination. The end result was as beautiful as anything you’d see in a restaurant.

As it is on most mornings, breakfast was eaten in complete quiet. Children took turns silently presenting everyone else with the tray from which they each chose a single piece of fruit until it was all gone. For months, they had been reminded that by not making any noise at all while eating, it is more likely that a deer might approach them, and at the very least they’ll better hear the bird calls. In over 45 minutes I didn’t hear a single giggle. When they were done, Baule excused them. There were sudden laughs and yelps and everyone vanished into the forest.

THERE ARE SCATTERINGS of forest kindergartens in the U.S. as well as in the U.K. Even in Japan and South Korea, where education is famously strict, waldkitas are becoming increasingly popular. They have spread mostly through word-of-mouth among parents. And in Germany, it’s not just the wealthy--or the eccentric--who send their children. Like all other preschools in Berlin, tuition at Robin Hood is covered by the government for kids aged 2 through 6 (apart from a 100 euro per month fee because it’s a private school). New York City preschools can cost upward of $40,000 per year.

Though it was below freezing and we had been outside for five and a half hours by the time we made our way to the bus stop, nobody--besides me--wanted to go back inside. When we returned to Robin Hood’s modest three-room building, which is filled with indoor plants and wooden forts, the children immediately kicked off their boots and stripped off their snow clothes. I suddenly saw them as they really were: tiny. In every case, their volume had decreased by at least 60 percent. They ran into the main play space where a long table had been set for them. Ceramic plates were heaped with salad and polenta, which they devoured with real flatware. One particularly squirmy boy was gently instructed to “please sit properly” five times. For dessert, every child was given a mug filled with elderberry juice, made from fruit that they had picked the summer before.

After lunch, Baule showed me a photo album, filled mostly with pictures taken in the last couple of years. A few children got interested and came over to sit in her lap, excited to see themselves “as babies.” One photograph captured the image of a towheaded boy of about 3, stripping bark off a stick with a jackknife. In another, a different boy was crushing walnuts with a log. A third picture depicted four children walking across a gravelly path, completely naked and covered with mud.

The room, which was warm and lined with pillows and books, suddenly seemed stuffy. The children would be picked up in about an hour, but I left early. I hailed a cab, and within five minutes regretted it. I rolled the window all the way down, and stuck my head out.