#t: mirror temple (mirror magic mix)

[vgtrackbracket]

Video Game Track Bracket Round 3

Mirror Temple (Mirror Magic Mix) from Celeste

vs.

Who Needs Honor (Drill Knight's Castle) from Shovel Knight Dig

Propaganda under the cut. If you want your propaganda reblogged and added to future polls, please tag it as propaganda or otherwise indicate this!

Mirror Temple (Mirror Magic Mix):

This is the song for Celeste's chapter 5 B-side. It's a remix (of Quiet and Falling) by 2 Mello

Who Needs Honor (Drill Knight's Castle):

Hey, if my area played a tune like this, I'd get quite the ego too.

[keicordelle]

Steel and Crystal

Fandom: FFXIV Rating: E Pairing: Estimeric Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Porn with Feelings, Explicit Consent, Established Relationship, Friends with Benefits to Lovers, Estinien Wyrmblood is Bad at Feelings, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, POV First Person (more tags on individual fics) An Estimeric series of mostly smut and some fluff, all related but able to be read independently. Set post-Dragonsong War, Estinien returns to Ishgard after trying to come to terms with his possession by Nidhogg, and Aymeric is more than happy to welcome back his lover. In between their fervent need to touch and be touched, they start to realize that perhaps their casual arrangement has become something more.

Read the series on Ao3!

Masterlist under the cut (WIP)

Moonlit Meeting      E | 4981 | POV Aymeric      Estinien returns to Ishgard post Dragonsong War

A Promise as Yet Unspoken      T | 1295 | POV Estinien      Aymeric trims Estinien’s hair

Office Delights      E | 2708 | POV Aymeric      Office blowjob beneath Aymeric’s desk

Our Beautiful Reflection      E | 3783 | POV Estinien      Rimming and reverent sex before a mirror

Hot Water and Warm Lips      E | 4754 | POV Aymeric      Comfort sex in/after a bath

A Test of Endurance      E | 6474 | POV Estinien      Teasing on the training grounds leads to blowjobs in a nearby bathhouse

Thoughts, Internal and Voiced      E | 5054 | POV Aymeric      Angst soothed by voiced desires and dirty talk.

Culinary Experimentation [ Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 ]      E | 6238 | POV Mixed      Estinien takes up cooking as a hobby, which eventually leads to food sex

Rescue [ Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 ]      E | 6650 | POV Estinien      Estinien rescues Aymeric from the Vault, and helps soothe him through the aftermath.

A Singular Kind of Hunger      E | 2073 | POV Aymeric      Estinien helps Aymeric through a wet dream.

An Arrangement of Convenience [ Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 ]      E | 9514 | POV Aymeric      Flashback to when Estinien and Aymeric made their FWB arrangement, and their first time together.

In the Quiet of the Barracks      E | 1969 | POV Estinien      Flashback to their Temple Knights days, quiet wall sex in the barracks.

A Dangerous Game      E | 5663 | POV Estinien      Jealous claiming at a masquerade

Of Nightmares and Longings      E | 3270 | POV Aymeric      Estinien soothes Aymeric’s nightmares with stories of his family and comfort sex.

Forced Vacation [ Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 ]      E | 11909 | POV Aymeric      Aymeric signs a contract with Estinien for a free use weekend.

The Courage of a Fool      E | 7139 | POV Estinien      Estinien confesses.

Wine and Revelations      E | 8010 | POV Estinien      Awkward drunken sex.

Return to Ferndale      T | 4459 | POV Aymeric      Estinien and Aymeric return to Ferndale for the 25th anniversary of its destruction.

Blue Silk      E | 7886 | POV Estinien      Light bondage brings back traumatic memories for Aymeric.

Wounded [ Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 ]      E | 9727 | POV Estinien      Aymeric cares for an injured Estinien.

Sound and Sensation      E | 3490 | POV Aymeric      Blindfolded sex

A Discussion of Firsts      E | 6115 | POV Aymeric      Aymeric and Estinien discuss their first times.

A Map of Memories      E | 3953 | POV Aymeric      Charting the scars on Estinien’s body

An Impossible Future      T | 4781 | POV Estinien      Estinien and Aymeric babysit and imagine what it would be like to have a child of their own.

Somnolescent      E | 2138 | POV Aymeric      Undernegotiated somnophilia.

Many Kinds of Magic      E | 6209 | POV Aymeric      A snowball fight turns into body worship and gentle sex.

Ink Across Parchment      T | 1153 | POV Estinien      Aymeric sketches Estinien in the dead of night.

A Contest of Wills [ Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 ]      E | 10140 | POV Estinien      Estinien loses a bet to see who can go the longest without coming and must submit to Aymeric’s whims for a day.

Over Any Distance      E | 3642 | POV Estinien      Linkpearl sex

Epistolary Comforts      E | 2445 | POV Mixed      Explicit letters

Just For Tonight      E | 5200 | POV Aymeric      Estinien shows up the night before the battle at Ghimlet Dark for one stolen night together.

[chillingaudrina]

IF YOU WANT A LOVER a nick/sabrina mix

L I S T E N

TRACKLIST + LYRICS under the cut

magic man | HEART        “come on home, girl,” he said with a smile        “you don’t have to love me yet, let’s get high a while”

       never think of never        let this spell last forever

chains of love | ERASURE        come to me, cover me, hold me        together we’ll break these chains of love

sex magick | TWIN TEMPLE        I remember the starry night we met        his hair black as jet        he wore a sigil of Baphomet        I kissed him and said        sex magick (ave Satanas)

       I know he worships me        the serpent circles Eve        our love comes supernaturally

o baby | SIOUXSIE & THE BANSHEES        thought it would end in tragedy        but I’m swimming around in your glory

the spy | THE DOORS        I’m a spy in the house of love

hologram (smoke & mirrors) | RAFFEY CASSIDY        you are the greatest liar

       what an illusion        I could have sworn that you were there        smoke and mirrors, you were just a hollow man        hologram

#1 crush | GARBAGE        I will sell my soul for something pure and true        someone like you

       I will burn for you        feel pain for you        I will twist the knife and bleed my aching heart        I’ll tear it apart

black night | CHERYL THOMPSON        I wanna know if he’s crying        I wanna know if he’s blue        oh, how I miss his loving        oh, what can I do?

       wishing his arms were around me        peaceful and safe from harm

       night winds blow high in the treetops        whispering so soft and low        and my heart keeps on asking        where did my lover go?

I wanna be yours | ARCTIC MONKEYS        let me be the portable heater        that you’ll get cold without        I wanna be your setting lotion        hold your hair in deep devotion

my sweet prince | PLACEBO        never thought you’d make me perspire        never thought I’d do you the same        never thought I’d fill with desire        never thought I’d feel so ashamed

silver springs | FLEETWOOD MAC        so I’ll begin not to love you        turn around, you’ll see me runnin’        I’ll say I loved you years ago        and tell myself you never loved me, no

       don’t say that she’s pretty        and did you say that she loves you?        baby, I don’t want to know

ungodly hour | CHLOE X HALLE        when you decide you like yourself, holler at me        when you decide you need someone, call up on me        when you don’t have to think about it        love me at the ungodly hour

       I don’t have the time        to teach you how to love all over again        and let me ask you this        are you givin’ all that you could give?        once you get it right        baby, just know I want you here, come here        right here

love me please love me | MICHEL POLNAREFF        love me, please love me        je suis fou de vous        vraiment, prenez-vous tant de plaisir        à me voir souffrir?

god is a woman | ARIANA GRANDE        boy, I like that you ain’t afraid        baby, lay me down and let’s pray        I’m tellin’ you the way I like it, how I want it

       but you’re different from the rest        and boy, if you confess, you might get blessed

mojo pin | JEFF BUCKLEY        I’m lying in bed, the blanket is warm        this body will never be safe from harm        still feel your hair, black ribbons of coal        touch my skin to keep me whole

       the welts of your scorn, my love, give me more        send whips of opinion down my back, give me more        it’s you I’ve waited my life to see        it’s you I’ve searched so hard for

I’m your man | LEONARD COHEN        if you want a lover        I’ll do anything you ask me to

       the moon’s too bright, the chain’s too tight        the beast won’t go to sleep        I’ve been running through these promises to you        that I made and I could not keep        but a man never got a woman back        not by begging on his knees        or I’d crawl to you baby and I’d fall at your feet        and I’d howl at your beauty like a dog in heat        and I’d claw at your heart and I’d tear at your sheet        I’d say please        please        I’m your man

[astrolocherry]

The historic statues and idols of Gods and Goddesses were self-portraits of the reverent human qualities they saw echoed in the heavens. The 12 zodiacs each personifying a force they deemed to be worshipped. Our lives have changed dramatically since human beings were viewed in this light, but we are still performing these divine acts that we once deemed as deities in one another

Aries: In Aries they saw The Heroine with the Spiritual Fire burning within her mind. The manifestation of Divine Will, the ones familiar with supreme power and wisdom, willing to risk everything. They saw the Great Imaginer who directly received visions from beyond, and they saw a feminine erotica and rage that could burst things into flames. They saw the Voyager and the clever strategist who seemed to be directly in tune with the will of God leading them into new lands, battles, and seas. Aries was the one capable of leading their nation, the one who mediated and counselled the masculine and the feminine. They were the ones with the Spirit of Spring that reanimated life and demonstrated the possibility of life after death.

Taurus: In Taurus they saw the ones who the choir of angels used as an instrument. They saw the Empress of Nirvana, the ones who wrote the cosmic tune. The ones who flowing in the rhythm of nature, performing sorcery playing with the colours, minerals and materials of earth, personifying the image of Divine Beauty. They saw the carries of the Womb of Consciousness in the cerebellum in which Taurus rules, and conveys the Divine Feminine Language. In this, they saw the very Cosmogonic Principle itself, the clairaudient personification of The Ancestral Mother of All Life, unconditionally providing the agriculture that sustains life like only a parent could. 

Gemini: In Gemini they saw the inventor of words and thus The Magician, Enchanted Writer, the Storytelling Sage, The Teacher mediating between Heaven and Earth who could cast spells with the symbols of alpha within the consciousness of others, the one whose mind was so illuminated it was like a golden helmet. They saw the playfully Eternal Divine Child whose mercurial wand bought much joy to all cosmic beings. They saw the ones who were light footed astral beings, capable of sending their heavenly messages through any medium as The Psychopomps, the Cosmic Mind with resolved duality. They saw the patrons who bought the wisdom of the heavens to earth and the dispensers of astrology, alchemy, and the Word of God

Cancer: In Cancer they saw the Mystic Midwife and Mother Goddess who helped bring life into the world and also soothe the pain of labour. They saw the anointed being that had no earthly source, whose origin could not be traced. They saw the Guardian of the Lunar Rays who communicated with the Moon, spirit guides, passed ancestors, the creators and maintainers of kairos or spirit’s time, and the witches who conducted the forces of nature to practice ritual, divination, pharmacy, with inherited prophecy and ability to move the seas with the tides, protected by an army of crossed souls who guarded them. They saw the personification of Matriarchal Consciousness, who carried the Cosmic Womb, the umbilical cord into dreamtime and the feminine soul, the ones capable of delivering prophecies from dream and fantasy

Leo: In Leo they saw the Heroine and the Princess of Light who won the battle for the sun, the Angel of Abyss who was plunged into the darkness to provide life. The one with the highest willpower possible to slay the demon in a nightly ceremony, the one who placed the Sun in its zenith. The early morning amber glow was their declaration that Leo war has been won and the day is for worshiping their Sun within They saw the pure essence of God suffer inside human flesh to provide the evolutionary earth experience. In Leo they saw the Lion, the King of the Jungle roaming and commanding in their gracious sovereignty, glorifying God and His Rule in every movement. They saw the Children of the Fire that ignited the pure Divine Spirit. They saw the ones carried by heavenly carriages, glorifying the possibilities of the universe

Virgo: In Virgo they saw the Queen of Heaven carrying the womb of cosmic space that holds the Divine Mother’s intelligence. They saw the illumination of wisdom, the instrument of cosmic creation - The Sole Creator, the ones who disappear into the darkness to wield the sole Divine inner love that makes spiritual enlightenment possible. They saw the transformer of sexual energy into creative spirit, the Inner Mary.  They saw the Invisible Mind, The Word of Sophia, the word of the Goddess and sacred, ancient, secret symbols made flesh. They saw the Sainted Healer with the Mother’s knowledge of her mineral earth, the one who activated curing properties as nature passes through her hands. 

Libra: In Libra they saw the Priestess soaked in the love of God, the divine’s highest artistry of God in its most idyllic and material form, a personification of the Feminine Principle and moving performance of artistry and right sided creativity, sensitivity, and inclusivity. They saw the ones who had the knowledge of cosmic karma and naturally dispersed this in daily affairs, in doing so maintaining the balance of universal order, the ones who ordered the seasons and nature and maintained astrology. They saw the ones with the mind residing the Library of Feminine Teachings, the captivating ones capable of bewitching all in presence, the personification of the angel, the one on the Threshold between Universal and Personal Self, The Enchanted Mirror that cosmic forces flow and mix into experimenting with the possibility of beauty

Scorpio: In Scorpio they saw the creative visionary who glorified God in solitary hiding, the one who had manifested the power of the Magical Serpent. They saw someone who seemed to have access to knowledge and wisdom from unseen worlds and beings, the ones who accessed the door into the underworld, and possessed such glorious inner wealth it could only be remarked as treasure. This is why they were hidden away, they seemed to be special, and Progenies of Internal counsel from Higher Beings. They were the ones who carried the knowledge of other realms, had the ability to read and interpret historic symbols, life after death, and the secret knowledge of immortality. The were ones sought out for their wisdom, their guidance, their experiences - especially for those in the process of death, considered Spirit Midwifes, Pharmacists, Sorcerers, or Healers.

Sagittarius: In Sagittarius they recognised a vast spectrum of light and supreme cosmic vitality. They saw the personification of wisdom and the Teacher who voyaged through many lands to declare the word. They saw the grandest gesture of the universe in one apparition, one worthy of superior worship for their transcendence, knowledge and implementation of spiritual law, and being cloaked in the sacred purple garments. It is for this reason they channeled and called upon the Sagittarius energy during meditation They saw the Guru and Master of Philosophy who had died and risen again, the ones who carried the akashic record that wrote and conserved the law of higher mind mythology and practices. They saw the powerful beings capable of wielding lightning, and one who received many blessings resulting from good past life karma.    

Capricorn: In Capricorn they saw the ones who seemed to create, own, and control time. They saw the ones whose leadership bought the Golden Age, they saw the Chosen Ones with the wisdom and divinity to lead the young initiates. They saw ones with a Higher Purpose that demonstrated the ultimate glory of human, and they saw the Alchemist who transmuted lead into gold. They saw the Higher Being who rose after being summoned by the Prince of Darkness and rode on the rays of this rising sun to ascend up the mountain, the one who built the great cities in heaven down on earth, the ones who played the cosmic flute and harmonised the planetary orbit spheres. They saw the Crone, the Elder who had lived many lives, the ancient Priestess who visited towns to perform healing acts and enlightenment with the Teachings of all Ages

Aquarius: In Aquarius they saw a gift to humanity from heaven, the ones that seemed to drink from the enchanted fountain of youth with an energy for life that seemed almost otherworldly. They saw the ones that bore water above their illuminated minds and seemed to heal the unwell and elderly, young beings with old souls. In Aquarius they saw the Child of Mother Earth who frolicked amongst the flowers and bought the rain clouds. They wondered if Aquarians had wings, because they seemed to teleport and bring back ideas from other realms, holding the nectar that cleansed, ascended, and illuminated their followers. They saw the Awakeners, the ones with the caduceus spine, the ones who had the indwelling knowledge of secret cosmic realms, the ones who materialised angelic ideas  

Pisces: In Pisces they saw the effeminate Divine Child who was mystical, a descendent of Atlantis, and had a life and afterlife with a special destiny who was a conduit of special and higher teachings from secret places and beings. They saw the energy that flowed through their bodies and evoked every sensory experience through dance and art as the great cosmic muse. They saw the Wanderer through temples, intoxicants, and invisible realms to find the path home, they saw the whole Spiritual Sea in a single drop, the Holy one capable of salvation. They saw the Healer, the Nurse who sourced the magic of nature, faith, and indwelling forces to cure. They worshiped Pisces as The Priestess who existed simultaneously in both worlds, the ones who carried the memories of heaven and stories of collective past lives along their feet.

C

[eversall]

@sunlewis: happy late birthday!! (only by two hours in my time zone, i’ll have you know.) my life is much, much better for having known you, and you deserve the world. unfortunately the world costs a lot (who knew?) so until i can afford that, here’s my present to you. 

be the man that walked a thousand miles || jace/simon, 3k+, wedding fic || (ao3 link soon!)

“Tell me you’re standing in my bedroom at the crack of dawn because it’s just hit you that I’m getting married and you’re emotionally compromised now.” Simon groans out when he wakes up to see Clary standing over him, her expression firm and no-nonsense.

“No,” a voice sounds from somewhere near the door, and Simon bolts upright to see Alec standing there stiffly, typing away furiously on his phone, “I wish it was just Fray crying.”

“Alec?” Jace asks, and he gives up pretending to be asleep at Simon’s side and sits up, squinting through the dim, grey light filtering through the room.

“I don’t want to freak you guys out,” Clary says, even as Simon begins to wake up more fully, his eyes widening as he hears the thundering sound outside, “but it’s raining.”

Raining is an understatement; by some stroke of awful luck there’s an honest-to-god thunderstorm raging on outside, turning the field outside the picturesque Vermont bed-and-breakfast they’ve all trooped to into a beautiful pool of sludge, with the fall foliage that Simon loved so much turning into a reddish-brown mess.

“Is that lightning?” Jace asks dumbly, still in his boxers as they stand on the balcony of their room. “Thunder?” He’s sleep-ruffled and adorably confused, squinting around him with the air of someone who’s not quite sure what’s happening. Simon tugs him out of the rain, swiping a thumb under his cheek and removing the dampness that’s starting to collect on his face. Even though there’s a canopy over the balcony, the rain is pouring down so hard that there’s backsplash everywhere.

“Do we - what do we do.” Simon says flatly, turning to Clary and Alec. “Tell me you two have a plan.”

“We have a plan.” Clary replies dutifully.

“We don’t have a plan.” Alec shoots back, glaring reproachfully at Clary.

“I have a plan.” Rebecca’s voice calls, and she peers around the doorway, looking frazzled. “But it depends on a lot of what if’s, so I can’t do everyone’s hair and makeup.”

“That’s fine.” Alec says, tapping his phone thoughtfully. “We can stagger Izzy and Magnus’ duties so they can help out where they can. Maybe get Bat to cover for overseeing the caterers?”

“Becks?” Simon calls out, panicked. Jace is squeezing his hand tightly, white-knuckled. “It’s going to be okay, right?”

“Of course.” Rebecca flashes him a smile. “Just let me do my magic, Simon.”

.

“Rain on your wedding day is a good omen, monkey.” Simon’s mom yells out over the rain as they run to Luke’s car to grab their suits.

“Yeah, mom, a little light drizzle is a good omen. A shower might even be good luck. Not - “ Simon hollers, as thunder echoes from somewhere close by, “a thunderstorm!”

“It’s all perspective, isn’t it?” Luke says calmly, getting out of his car and ducking under Simon’s umbrella as Simon’s mom opens the passenger side door and pulls out bags of dry-cleaned suits. “Good to see you, kid. It’s a big day.”

“Sure.” Simon says despondently, taking his share of the suits. “A big day for the clouds, and like, water.”

“Didn’t Rebecca say she’ll fix it? Trust your sister.” Mom scolds, and he reluctantly nods, twisting his engagement ring around his finger. It’s silver, winking in the light, and beautifully simple. Simon already lost it once, and it still found it’s way back, and he’s pretty sure it means something.

“It’s just a ring, Simon.” Jace had told him when Simon had found it again, nearly sobbing in relief. He’d taken Simon’s knuckles and pressed a kiss to each finger, saying, “Ring or no ring, I love you, and we’re getting married.”

It’s sweet, and stupidly sentimental, and Simon holds onto that thought as he, Luke, and Mom dash back through the rain to the hotel lobby, slamming the double doors shut behind them as they go. He shakes the umbrella off, running a hand through his hair and wondering if all the product in the world is enough to tame the frizz that’s settling in because of the water, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that there’s an alarming number of people in black and white catering uniforms running around looking panicked.

“Please tell me that these aren’t my caterers.” Simon says cautiously, and Mom opens her mouth and then closes it, looking a little worried, and then Bat comes running through the lobby, phone clutched to his ear and eyes looking a little wild.

“I don’t care that the cake is lying in a muddy ditch, I care that you get to a kitchen and fix it!” He hisses into the phone. “What do you mean you’ve broken down? What kind of piece of shit car do you have? Useless - oh - Simon - “ He looks at Simon, rather helplessly, and Simon stares back, equally as helpless.

“No cake?” Simon asks weakly. “No - what is everyone gonna eat, grass?”

“Wet grass.” Bat replies morosely, and then he catches himself. “No, I didn’t mean that - we’ll figure something out - “

Simon just continues to stare at Bat, his mouth open, his eyes darting from side to side, and he throws his hands up.

“Any solutions?” he asks, turning to his mom and Luke. “Any at all?”

“Isn’t your boyfriend a baker?” Luke asks.

“Cupcakes,” his moms says wisely, “cupcakes are always easy to do.”

“Right.” Simon folds his arms, looking desperately at both of them. “And he’s supposed to run around and bake for a hundred people while he gets ready to get married to me? Are you guys insane?”

“Yes, I can do it.” A voice says from behind him, warm, and then hands are snaking around his waist and a pair of lips press a kiss to his temple. Simon melts into Jace’s embrace, turning and sliding his arm around Jace.

“Are you insane?” He asks Jace, but his voice is lower, less hysterical, and Jace grins, his hair falling in his face.

“Trust me?” He says. “I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the aisle, Lewis.”

And with that, Simon’s fiance disappears into the direction of the kitchen, rolling his sleeves up. Simon shakes his head and deeply considers eloping in Canada.

.

“You can’t have any more bad news to give me.” Simon says when Magnus appears in the doorway as Maia helps him with his bowtie. “Just - you don’t, right?”

“Well.” Magnus says gesturing at Simon with a smile on his face. “I just wanted to say, you look amazing. Jace is going to be awe-struck when he sees you.”

“Oh.” Simon’s insides melt and a warm feeling expands in his chest as he smiles at Magnus through the mirror. “Thank you, Magnus it means a lot - “

“Also your chuppah might have broken,” Magnus says quickly, “but your rabbi and your mom are working on fixing it.”

The videographer - Raj - slowly lowers his camera as Simon hisses what and jerks back violently, while Maia still has a hold on his bowtie, resulting in a split second where Maia hollers “Simon, no!” and Simon chokes, hands scrabbling at his throat as Maia lets go of him.

“You maybe should have started with that.” Maia says, sighing, and Simon manages to wheeze out “You definitely should have started with that.”

“They were trying to move it to the new venue your sister is creating,” Magnus says, “but the rain’s already weakened it.” Simon sighs and sinks into a nearby chair, his head in his hands, and his poor, weakened heart stuttering faintly in his chest.

“No,” he moans, “I can’t get married under a broken chuppah in the rain with no cake and - knowing my luck - probably no food, too. What’s next? The flowers all burn up? I have a shortage of chairs? No music?”

“What’s next,” Maia says decisively, rooting around in her handbag and producing a tiny bottle, “is you take a shot of this excellent bottle of tiny, over-priced hotel liquor, and then you take a deep breath and deal with it all one at a time.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” Simon says, gratefully twisting the cap off. “No - Raj - don’t take a video of me doing shots, for heaven’s sake.”

.

“Okay.” Simon announces, clapping his hands as he peers through the kitchen. “Jace. Babe. It’s T-minus two hours, and you’re standing there with flour in your hair. Please tell me you’ve at least showered.”

Jace is violently slamming an oven door with a maniacal grin on his face. “I have not.” He says, blowing a kiss at Simon. “Should you be in the kitchen in your nice suit, Mr. Jace? It’ll get ruined, plus it’s bad luck - “

“To see the bride, and last time I checked, I was still your groom.” Simon says, bemused despite himself at the way Jace beams at him. “Am I gonna have a groom in a suit at the end of the aisle, or a baker in a Kiss the Cook apron?”

“Maybe both,” Jace says, winking as he sets the mixer going and deftly measures out confectioner’s sugar, “who knows?” He sets the ingredients aside and darts in to kiss Simon quickly on the lips, making sure not to get any sugar or flour on him. “Why don’t you go tend to everything else?”

Whatever Simon was about to say gets lost in the sudden flare of heat from the corner of the kitchen where the caterers are working and a bright, bright orange flame. Simon and Jace both shout and scramble back as fire suddenly envelopes a tray of steaks, and the cook working on them drops them right into the line of prepared hors d'oeuvres sitting prettily on the table, setting them smoking as well. Everyone watches, in horror, as one cook nimbly grabs the fire extinguisher and starts dousing everything in white foam.

“Cupcakes!” Jace shouts, and the next five minutes are spent in a scrambled panic as  the nearest caterers all grab trays and trays of finished cakes and transport them to a nearby table that isn’t in the firing line of the automatic sprinklers that have gone on. Simon skids back and forth, grabbing the batter Jace had been mixing too, and gritting his teeth harder at every drop of water that stains his beautifully tailored suit and bit of flour that blows onto his tie and shirt.

“Simon,” Jace says, horrified, as they rescue the last of the salvageable food, “your suit, fuck.”

“You know,” Simon says numbly, shrugging off his jacket and staring at the white-speckled, damp mess it’s become, “at this point, I’m physically incapable of feeling surprise.”

.

Simon takes a breather.

He strips off his ruined suit, shoves on a shirt and sweatpants, and troops out into the rain, ruining his beautifully styled hair and the light dab of highlighter and gloss Magnus put on him as he lets himself get soaked to the bone. He shivers, staring at the trees and the grey clouds rolling away on the horizon, and clutches his arms tight around him, breathing deeply as he thinks.

Jace proposed twice to Simon. The second time was their official engagement, the one where Jace took Simon to the Hunter’s Moon and proposed to him on the same exact spot that, four years ago, Simon had kissed Jace, in the back alley between boxes of recyclable trash. He’d transformed the alley, lighting up the wall with videos of them on dates, moving in together, getting their cats and making their lives together a home. Jace had said all the right things, had kissed him hard when Simon had said yes, and finished the whole thing off beautifully with a party in the bar with all their friends and family.

But the first time is the one Simon cherishes, the one no one else but Jace and Simon know. Simon had been almost asleep, New York traffic a steady hum in the background, when Jace had whispered aloud I wanna ask you to marry me, but what if you say no?

Simon hadn’t been meant to hear it, but he’d rolled over anyway and said to a softly stunned Jace just so you know, I’m always going to say yes to you. Jace had let out a breathless, half-choked laugh, and kissed Simon so fiercely he swears his heart stopped for a moment. Simon had kissed back, desperate in letting Jace know that the instant Jace had walked into his life he’d been the one for Simon, the most beautiful person Simon knows inside and out.

Now, he remembers that and smiles into the rain, giddy at the thought of Jace. His wedding day is falling to shambles behind him, but the truth of the matter is the only thing he’s really been focused on all day is getting Jace up in front of all their friends and family and letting him know, in front of God and everyone, how much he loves Jace. The promise - of forever, of lows and highs and everything in between, of family - is what matters to him.

Lightning flashes in the distance, and Simon turns to see Jace jogging across the field to him, blonde hair plastered across his face.

“Simon!” Jace calls, and then he’s tugging Simon into a hug, eyes worriedly scanning up and down his body like he’s checking for injuries. “You’re soaked through, you’re going to catch pneumonia, you idiot.”

Simon laughs. “Our wedding is a disaster.” He says, his voice steady and warm. He catches Jace’s hand in his own and traces over his fiance’s matching silver ring. Jace looks at him, delight lighting up his eyes and making him appear ten years younger as he grins.

“I know.” He says, voice low and intimate. “But I’m marrying you. Can you believe it?”

“And I’m marrying you.” Simon says. “It feels like a dream.”

“Yeah.” Jace says, and then he leans down and they’re kissing in the rain, slow and unhurried and sweet with the taste of forever.

.

Magnus knocks around on room doors and pulls together a new, gorgeous outfit for Simon. Rebecca strings up a tarp decorated with vines and industrial strength light bulbs on delicate silver and gold wire over the outdoor patio to create a rustic setting that the newly fixed chuppah, decorated with subtle lilies, goes under. The flooring is damp, but the chairs and placards and decorations all sit unharmed under the miraculously pretty tarp. Jace’s cupcakes come out perfectly iced, finished up thirty minutes before the ceremony starts, and Jace himself is dressed in record time by Alec and izzy. Bat, Clary and Maia rally caterers from all the nearby bed and breakfasts to create an eclectic food menu that includes both high-grade sashimi and street tacos.

It’s a mess. Simon loves it, he thinks as his mom squeezes his arm and nods at him. He hears the faint strains of something classical that Jace picked floating through the door to the patio, and he takes a deep breath, looks briefly up at the sky and thinks of his dad, and then takes Rebecca’s on his other arm and smiles at Clary.

“Go time, Fray.” He says, and she grins and winks at him as she opens the door and walks out, her vibrant red hair and pink dress turning heads as the gathered crowd murmurs and stands at the coming of the first groom’s best woman.

“Ready, monkey?” Mom asks, and he bites his lip and laughs nervously.

“I love him so much, I - “ he says, his voice thick, and Rebecca laughs.

“We know.” she says gently, and then she looks thoughtful as she ducks her head and says, “If Dad were here, he’d be so happy.”

“He would be” Simon says, and the three of them share one last look before they clear their throats, roll their shoulders back, and step through the door.

From his first step up the aisle he feels like he’s floating through an adrenaline-filled dream, one that he never wants to end. He sees everyone in the crowd, sees Luke waiting to be the officiant along with Simon’s rabbi, and he almost trips at the last second before Rebecca steadies him.

Then he’s turning and Maryse and Robert are walking through the door, Jace standing in between them with a wild look of joy on his face. Simon’s breath catches in his throat and he feels like he’s been punched in the gut as he takes in how utterly gorgeous Jace is, how he’ll get to come home to him every night. Jace, for his part, looks like he’s physically restraining himself from grabbing hold of Simon and never letting go. The rain is casting a pretty grey light over him, highlighting the sky blue of his eyes and his golden hair, making the faint pattern of gold across his white suit stand out even more, and Simon has died and gone to heaven, he thinks, as Jace makes his way up to Simon and clasps his hands, beaming uncontrollably.

“So hot.” Simon whispers lightly, under his breath, and Jace snickers, squeezing Simon’s hands and winking, and it feels like a spell’s been lifted; Simon can breathe again as his rabbi steps forward, smiling genially, beginning to recite a blessing.

The ceremony is simple, and sweet; after his rabbi, Luke steps forward and makes a heartfelt speech about growing old together, about love and change and the way life takes you for a ride. The rain falls in sheets around them, strong and steady and undeniably wild, and after a while Simon begins to feel like it does mean something, like it’s a sign of something immeasurably powerful in the way Jace looks at him.

“Now, I believe you two have prepared vows.” Luke says, stepping away, and Simon laughs thickly.

“I’ll go first,” he says, taking the mic, “since you did the asking. To marry me, I mean.”

The assembled crowd makes a cooing noise, and Jace nods, smiling fondly. Simon takes a deep breath, rubbing his thumb against the silver of his engagement ring.

“You once told me that you loved me, and a ring wasn’t going to change that.” Simons says slowly, roughly. “I mean, you said it because I lost my ring, and I was about to pull out the laundry machine from the wall to search for it.”

From over Jace’s shoulder, he sees Magnus snicker at that, sharing a look with Alec, both clearly remembering the day they walked in to find Jace hurriedly restraining a manic Simon from going at the machine with a hammer he’d found. He’s never quite lived that moment down, and it comes back up as a funny story after the second round of drinks wherever their group goes.

“But what you said - that’s always been our truth.” Simon continues, quieter. “That I love you, and you love me, and that’s born out of something bigger than the both of us. I promise to cherish that something, and to love you, always. I promise to make your world a better place, with everything I have in me.” He takes a deep breath, and almost cries when he sees the bright sheen in Jace’s eyes and one tear rolling down his cheek, blue-brown eyes furiously blinking away the rest. “I promise you a home in my hands.”

He hands Jace the mic, and Jace clumsily falls into him for a brutally fast-paced, desperate kiss before he pulls back, the crowd going wild as he grips Simon’s hand again and says, huskily, “I promise you a home, too.” He swallows, and Simon tracks the bob of his throat before he drags his gaze back up. “I promise to be your best friend, to make you laugh, to give you a reason to smile every day. I promise to be the sun in your life that you deserve.”

He steps forward, disentangling their hands and instead reaching up to cup Simon’s cheek. “I love you in a way that can’t be changed.” He finishes. “Not by rain, not by ridiculous emergencies - nothing can change the way you are my life.”

Simon is crying now, tears rolling down his cheeks as he smiles in delight, unable to stop the laugh bubbling up out of his throat. Luke calls for the rings, Clary and Izzy hand them over, and suddenly -

There’s a wide silver band sliding onto Simon’s finger, etched with the Herondale stars, and Simon’s shaking fingers are pressing another silver band with a tiny sun engraved on it up and over Jace’s knuckle, watching it settle smoothly over his engagement ring, and then they’re married.

“You may now kiss!” Luke proclaims, and then Simon’s grabbing at Jace’s waist and Jace is tangling his fingers in Simon’s hair, kissing him with a fervor that makes Simon’s heart feel like it’s spilling out of his chest. They part quickly, just brushing noses for a second, as around them their friends and family all cheer, and a glass wrapped in a cloth appears at Simon’s feet.

“Mazel Tov!” He yells, never taking his eyes off Jace, and the glass shatters under the heel of his dress shoes, and then Simon is married to the love of his life, and it is, he knows, a miracle.

.

Their guitar players strings break right before the first dance and the pianist starts vomiting violently. Simon doesn’t even flinch as he takes his phone out and looks around at the horrified guests in the reception area.

“Anyone got an aux cord?” he asks, waving his phone around.

“I don’t know what else I expected, to be honest.” Jace says, his grip on Simon’s other hand tight. He hasn’t let go for more than a minute at a time, not even when Raj wanted extended time to do solo photoshoots. “Clearly our wedding dreams got mixed up somewhere with a dream about an obstacle course.”

“Clearly.” Simon sighs, but he plugs his phone in and holds a hand out to Jace. “May I have this dance?”

Jace grins as Sleeping At Last’s voice filters out over the speakers, drowning out the rain with the words when I wake up, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you.

“All my dances.” Jace says, a devastatingly handsome smile on his face as he takes Simon’s hand and lets himself be pulled into a loose embrace on the center of the dance floor, pressing their foreheads together and swaying slightly.

“Careful,” Simon says softly, a surge of contentment settling over him, “that’s a lot of dances.”

But I would walk five hundred miles, the speakers croon, and I would walk five-hundred more -

“Just to be the man that walked a thousand miles, to fall down at your door.” Jace sings softly to Simon in lieu of an answer, his voice light and warm. “You have my everything, Simon,” he says, “dances and all.”

“Jace.” Simon says, and they don’t need any more words as they kiss, slow and unhurried, with the promise of a lifetime to come.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Under the Apple Tree--Chapter 2

Ship:  Outlaw Queen

Rating: T

Synopsis: After being hit by the Olympian Crystal, Robin was transported to Seattle, unable to return to Storybrooke or any magical. When it was clear he had no way to return to his family, Robin finally decided to bury his broken heart in work–founding a landscaping business, Sherwood Forestry.  Fifteen years later, Robin receives an order from the last person he ever thought he’d see again, making him realize that hope never truly dies.

Previous: Chapter 1

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Rayna Miller stepped into her heels and then gave herself one last look in her vanity mirror. Makeup carefully applied, chin-length near-black hair neatly coifed, power suit both professional and distinctly feminine.  Rayna nodded at her reflection, pleased with the effect.  She looked every inch the confident and capable business woman.

Good thing, too.  This morning she had, quite possibly, the most important business meeting of her life.  Not that she’d had all that many business meetings in her life.  The daughter of an extremely successful real estate mogul, Rayna had never needed to work a day in her life.

But Rayna wanted to work; wanted to support herself; wanted to make a name for herself.  She didn’t just want to be known as the daughter of the late Henry Miller.  She wanted to be known for her own accomplishments.

From a young age, Rayna had loved baking, loved the way various and sundry raw ingredients could be brought together to form something new, something delectable.  Desserts involving apples were her particular favorite. She made an apple turnover that was without parallel.

In fact it was that very apple turnover that had started Rayna on her current career path.  She’d made the sweet, flaky dessert for one of her father’s business associates when he’d dined with the Millers, and the man had raved over it.

“Young lady,” he’d said, “you could create your own catering business with dishes such as this!”

And so she had.

Not long after Henry Miller passed of a sudden heart attack, Regina had used a portion of her inheritance money to open “Apple of My Eye Catering Service.”  She could make a mean lasagna when the situation required it, but she far preferred the jobs that required her to simply provide dessert for her customers.

Which was why this business meeting was so very, very important.

One evening, after a full day spent in the kitchen, she’d collapsed onto the sofa and sighed deeply. “I am so sick of having to make full meals for everyone,” she’d groused. “I got into this business to make dessert.”

Her brother James looked up from the book he’d been perusing in his arm chair in the corner and shrugged. “So make dessert.”

Rayna rolled her eyes. “Make dessert?  Like it’s just that easy?  Yes, I’m sure my clients would be thrilled if I simply refused to make them entrees for their catered special occasions.”

James sighed, that familiar tragic look coming into his blue eyes once again.    “Rayna,” he’d said, “life is far too short to waste on a job you genuinely don’t enjoy.  If it’s baking that fulfills you, find a business venture that allows you to focus on that.”

James had been right. Oh, the two of them tended to roll their eyes and snark at each other more than anything else, but Rayna knew her brother cared about her.  His suggestion that she find a job that allowed her to focus on her passion simply would not leave her.

And so, when Grandma’s Kitchen had opened not more than three blocks from her spacious home, the solution had come to Rayna with startling clarity.  If she could talk “Grandma”—Rayna still didn’t know the woman’s first name—into partnering with her, she could sell her own brand of apple-based desserts at the restaurant.  It really would be a win-win for both women.  Rayna could focus on the delicacies she preferred and Grandma would have a premiere line of desserts that could make a name for her café. Grandma had been skeptical when Rayna first proposed the idea, concerned a wealthy heiress couldn’t be counted on, but Rayna had finally worn her down.

This morning at 9:00 sharp, she was to meet Grandma to make her pitch.  It was quite possibly the most important meeting of her life.  It felt as though her entire future rode on this meeting.

Satisfied that her appearance exuded precisely the mix of confidence and down-to-earth-ness that Rayna was looking for, she stepped from her bedroom and into her spacious kitchen. The large basket full of crisp Granny Smiths on the counter beckoned to her, and Rayna pulled on an apron and set to work to begin peeling.  She had a rehearsal dinner to cater this evening, and she needed to spend every free moment she had making the necessary preparations if she was to be ready in time.

She’d just started in on the second apple when the doorbell rang.

Strange.  She wasn’t expecting company.  Who could be bothering her at this time of the morning?  

Rayna shrugged, rinsed off her sticky hands, pulled her apron over her head, and made her way to the entrance foyer.  Opening the door, she found herself face to face with a man dressed simply in jeans, a tee shirt and sturdy work boots.

“Regina?”

For a moment, Rayna simply stared, her heart racing for a reason she couldn’t understand.  There was something so very, very familiar about this man.  With his warm blue eyes, his sandy-colored hair, touched with gray at the temples, his scruff, there was just something about him…

“Regina?” the man said again taking a step forward.  “Is something the matter?”

Rayna shook her head and put her hand out, stopping the man in his tracks.  “There is no one by that name at this residence.  You must have the wrong address.”

She saw a brief flash of confusion and intense pain pass over the man’s handsome face before he took a deferential step backwards.  “Apologies, my lady,” he said.  “I…I…it’s just that you remind me of someone I once knew quite well.”

She peered at him for a moment, the feeling of déjà vu coming over her stronger than ever.  “No harm done,” she said beginning to close the door. “I hope you find this woman you’re looking for.”

The man stepped a foot into the door way, effectively blocking her attempt to shut him out.  “Pardon,” he said, “but I’ve made quite a mess of this. Allow me to begin again.  I’m Robin Locksley of Sherwood Forestry.”

He looked at her intently, as though hoping his name and title might mean something to her.  “Nice to meet you,” she said crisply.  “I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you still on my doorstep Robin Locksley of Sherwood Forestry?”

The man furrowed his brow. “Did you not order an apple tree from my nursery?”

Rayna’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.  I ordered an apple tree,” she said in her most regal and imperial tone, “but it was not to arrive until tomorrow.”

“I assure you,” Robin said, “your order was to be delivered this morning.  My secretary is quite diligent in her job.  Now, if you would kindly show me where your tree is to be planted?”

“I’ll be happy to,” Rayna said, eyes narrowing, “Tomorrow morning at 8:00 am sharp, just as I ordered.”

“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible, Miss…” he looked down at his work order, “Miller.  The tree has been uprooted and must be planted today lest the roots dry out.”

This couldn’t be happening! Not today, not on the day of her meeting with Grandma!  Not when her entire future hung on this meeting!

“You don’t understand!” she said, a hint of desperation in her voice.  “I cannot deal with this today. If I miss my meeting….This is my one opportunity…She already believes I’m just a useless heiress.  If I cancel…Please.  I can’t fail! Not again.”

Robin’s eyes softened and his hand came up to cup her cheek.  To Rayna’s intense confusion, she found the gesture comforting, familiar.  “No one believes you will fail,” he said, a gravelly note in his warm voice.  “You can do anything you put your mind to, and I will do anything in my power to assist you.”

Rayna’s eyes widened at the tender, supportive words.  She was quite sure she’d never met this man in her life, but something about him pulled at her, made her heart race, stilled her self-doubts.

“Do we…” she said breathlessly, “do we know each other?”

Robin glanced aside for a moment and then looked back at her with a sad smile.  “I assure you.  There’s no way I’d forget knowing you Reg…er…Rayna Miller.”

Something crackled between them, something deep and true and lasting.  Something that spoke of forever.  Rayna held his gaze for a moment before she blinked and took a step away.  She couldn’t deal with this…weird connection with the literal stranger on her doorstep.

Instead, she focused on the problem at hand, desperate to make something make sense again. “Look, I don’t know where, but somehow along the way there was a miscommunication.  I have a vitally important business meeting in half an hour, and if I cancel, if I’m late, the perfect career opportunity will slip through my fingers.  I simply cannot have my tree delivered this morning.  I can’t be here with you.”

“It’s no problem really,” Robin said.  “Simply show me where the tree is to be planted.  I’ve no need for your presence.”

“I will be gone most of the morning,” Rayna said.  “I will not be here to pay you when the job is done.”

Robin shrugged.  “All the better.  It’ll give me an excuse to call on you again.  Perhaps we might discuss the matter of payment tomorrow at the time you believed the delivery was to take place?  Perhaps we might even have cause to celebrate the successful completion of your business meeting today.”

Rayna eyed the man skeptically for another moment.  Something inside told her she could trust this Robin Locksley, could trust him with her life, let alone the planting of her apple tree.  “Very well,” she said.  “Return tomorrow at 8:00 am sharp, and I’ll have a check ready for you.  Maybe…maybe if you’re not too busy, you could stay for a fresh apple turnover and we can get to the bottom of this mix up.”

Robin bowed slightly, tender smile on his face.  “I shall look forward to it.”

Notes:

--So, I’ve decided to set an update schedule for myself.  This story will be somewhere around 8-10 chapters long, and I’ll update every Tuesday.  I seem to work best under a deadline, so this ought to motivate me to keep this story going.

--Back to the story!  Clearly something odd is going on here!  Regina not only doesn’t remember Robin, she doesn’t even remember her own identity.  Just what’s happened over the last decade and a half, and why it is that Regina believes she’s Rayna Miller, the caterer, rather than Regina Mills, the mayor, will be revealed in due course.

--In fact, we’ll start to get those answers in next week’s update! We’ll not only follow Robin to his breakfast meeting with “Rayna” the next day, but Robin will also meet his rather reclusive neighbor, someone who can be very, very useful in helping Robin “wake up” his soul mate.

--Also…curious about Rayna’s brother, James?  Don’t worry; we’ll learn more about him as well!

Tagging a few who I talk to frequently and might be interested: @flslp87 @hellomommanerd @linda8084  @snowbellewells @kmomof4.

[jediryssabean]

i am free whenever you’re in front of me

HELLO...... I’M SO SORRY. i know this is like..... 2 months off my schedule but i hope it’s worth the wait!

shoutout to @baegerbombtastic for reading everything every time i add two (2) sentences as always..... literally as always. thanks to @ereriere for telling me i’m not a piece of shit for being busy. and thank you to @burningfairytales for managing to be excited despite the fact that i took forever.

-

Pairing: Eren/Levi Verse: Dead on Arrival (an urban fantasy au) Rating: T Summary: (There are moments in his life that are impossible to forget, no matter how many times he rises from the dead.

He knows the taste of riverwater, though his taste buds have changed countless times since then. He knows the feeling of broken ribs, the way that tires sound when they can’t get proper traction against the road underneath them. He knows the way that twenty-four hour laundromats smell between sunset and sunrise, and knows the way that the smell of cigarettes mingles with the thickness of fabric softener as an analog clock ticks in the background.

Eren remembers a lot of the moments that have changed his life, word for word.)

Or you can [Read on AO3]!

chapters: i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii

-

(Levi had been shrugging on his coat when he’d asked, “what kind of story do you want this to be?”

The apartment had smelled too strongly of Chinese food, had smelled like Eren’s older magic still clinging to Levi’s keys, had smelled like whatever shampoo it was that Levi had used before he’d gotten there. Mint, it seemed like. And raspberries, maybe. Whatever it had been, it was embedded in Eren’s pillows and his couch and his clothes. It even seemed to be sticking to his fingertips when he’d lifted his hands to his temples.

It had been as if there was a foreign magic in his home, and he’d been the one to let it take root there.

But for all that there should’ve been panic rising in his gut, for all that there should’ve been an earthquake beginning in his chest, for all that there should’ve been an alarm screaming in the hollowed-out space between his ears where his fucking brain ought to be sitting—Eren hadn’t been able to find anything like regret hiding anywhere inside his body.

“what?” Eren had replied, pulling his sneakers onto his feet, if only so he could follow Levi down the stairs to lock the back door behind him. The fabric of his socks had whispered against the weight of his shoes.

“you said that this,” Levi had gestured between them before beginning to work on the buttons of his coat, “is how mortals get caught in tragedies. what kind of story do you want this to be?”

The city had been a presence at the back of his skull, humming through its early morning motions like it had always done. The nighttime bus routes faded into nothing against the shape of his bones only to have their rhythm taken up by train systems and heavier traffic, the people stirring against sidewalks and along roadways, the interstates beginning to congest in his sinuses.

And yet the loudest thing between them both had been Eren’s own breathing, and it had tasted of his own magic, and raspberries, and mint.)

Eren can feel Seattle vibrating in his sinuses.

The parking garage smells like wintertime and chilled rubber, scattered against the concrete at uneven intervals, interrupted only by the shiver of the garage’s pylons that shake loose some brine-dipped memory of Puget Sound when a breeze whispers in from the city outside. It’s a contrast, a little, to the soft sighs of coffee steam, rising from the two cups balanced carefully on the sloped hood of some kind of Porsche, the paint some unidentifiable mix of silver and mother-of-pearl.

He can’t tell if it’s supposed to bring to mind the surface of a mirror or not, for all that he can catch the distorted shape of his shoulders out of the corner of his eye. Maybe that’s just an added benefit of the chrome-like finish. Whatever the case, the most he can say is that the paintjob is just this side of tacky, like something coughed up by a movie set right before the turn of the millennium. The future, after all, was meant to shine in shades of silver and off-white chrome.

Instead, it ended up caked over in mildew and patches of moss, tucked in the hollows of gutters and between broken mortar on too-old brick buildings. Instead, the world had made a home for darker things, monsters that mirrors never could quite catch.

It’s entirely possible that the fae never would’ve made it in a future like that.

“Does the owner of that Porsche know that you’re using it as a cupholder?” Levi’s footsteps echo in the parking garage, almost loud enough to compete with the sound of the stairway door falling shut behind him, sliding back into place with the whisper of polished metal against metal.

The city huffs against Eren’s teeth when he smiles, the cold rubbing at his nose. “Maybe I should leave them a note, let them know that it’s worth the money. The shape of the hood is perfect for coffee cups.”

Levi laughs and it curls away from his mouth on a cloud, his eyes catching the fluorescent light like chips of ice as he closes the distance between them. “Have you thought about writing the company instead? They’d probably like to know what consumers are looking for in a car these days, and external cupholders might be pretty high on the list.”

“I don’t drive,” Eren tells him, passing over the coffee cup that smells of cinnamon and hazelnut, sweetened barely enough to make it drinkable, “but who knows? I could be the demographic they’re aiming to please. Businesspeople who have no business driving.”

This laugh is louder and echoes longer as it skips against the concrete pylons, lingering in the empty parking spaces where rainwater had puddled beneath slowly drying cars. It swallows the hum of late-night traffic knocking at the inside of his skull, muffles the clatter-squeak-sigh of the train system going through the motions of its graveyard shift.

It’s alarming, in a way; he’s never felt the city get as quiet as it does when he’s here, as it does when he’s with Levi. When he’s—when this happens.

(“oh,” Levi had said the first time Eren had shown up with two coffee cups, almost three weeks before. His left foot had hesitated on the bottom stair between the hospital stairwell and the bottom-most floor of the parking garage. It had smelled much the same—the damp softening the pointed edges of gasoline still lingering around the trash cans and parking lines. “shit, huh. seems like you weren’t joking about the location services thing.”

Eren’s skin had prickled, and heat had settled behind his tonsils, and he’d replied, “no. i wasn’t joking.” Behind the exhaust fumes and the still-warm coffee, he could catch the whisper of raspberry and mint. “but i’m curse-free. i brought coffee instead.”

Levi had smiled, had let it relax his face, and the soles of his shoes had huffed against the cracked pavement as he’d taken the last step down.

“a man after my own heart,” Levi had told him, and their fingers had brushed as he’d taken the coffee cup, pressing against the cardboard sleeve with his thumb. “do you need a body cut open?”

His mouth had been dry, his tongue a stone in his mouth. “does the world really need to be ending for me to want to say ‘hello’?” Levi’s reflection stretched across the hood of his own Prius, curling toward the headlights, the color clinging to the corners. “besides, chinese food is pricey. consider it a down-payment on my debt.”

Levi’s laughter and been loud enough to make Eren forget exactly where he’d been just then. For the heartbeats that it had lasted, he couldn’t feel the railways or the bus routes, the tides or the partygoers.

It had been just them, and the coffee, and the cold.)

This has been happening more than it ought to be, really. And Eren’s been letting it happen.

“You know,” Levi says, resting one knee against the Porsche’s headlight, making the suspension creak beneath his weight, “just in terms of what you’ve probably spent on coffee, you paid off the Chinese more than a week ago.” Eren watches Levi’s thumb trace the edge of the cardboard sleeve wrapped around his coffee cup. “The additional legwork is probably unquantifiable.”

Well—that’s not quite right. Technically, he supposes, he’s been doing the happening this go around, after the... dinner. After the time they’d spent on Eren’s sofa. After the last of the raspberry and mint had faded from the cushions there.

It’s the faerie half of him that’s allowed this, surely. There’s nothing quite so weighted as an unpaid debt.

“I was already out,” Eren replies, his own mocha warm between his hands, “doing shit for work. The extra travel is an excuse for me to take a break before I end up back at the store stitching anonymity enchantments into thrift-store sweaters.” Another door opens from the hospital into the parking garage, two floors above them. “And you didn’t bring your car today. If I paid off the Chinese food a week ago, how did you know I’d be here?”

Levi looks at him, his head barely tilted to one side, and his jaw sets around something. It’s a look that Eren’s becoming familiar with—the way it shapes Levi’s face and thins his lips and pulls at the skin around his eyes.

“I didn’t.” The car’s suspension creaks again as he leans harder against the headlight. The structure rumbles around them as someone leaves for the night, their engine idling one floor up as they make a turn. “But what’s the worst that could’ve happened? The walk home is too healthy for me? I get today’s and tomorrow’s cardio in?”

“Or, alternatively, you get mauled by some supernatural being and die. I can’t really speak to the facts of this, but I’m pretty sure it’s harder to get mauled while you’re driving.” Eren’s coffee is almost hot enough to scald his tongue, and it brings feeling back into his toes.

Something rises onto Levi’s face in slow motion—a question, probably. Eren can almost see it trying to cling to his teeth as he swallows it, can see the shape it had been trying to take as his throat bobs around what it had been about to be. There’s been more of that, recently. Hollowed out questions, left to be filled by whatever answer Eren chooses to put there.

Levi’s afraid of drawing blood, he thinks. Eren doesn’t know whose blood it is that he’s so scared of shedding.

“So,” the Porche huffs with relief as Levi drops his knee, shifting his backpack for the second time before he makes his way to the door that leads out onto the street, “how’s work going? I didn’t know magicians made house calls so late at night. Were you booked for a birthday party or something?”

The city eats Eren’s laughter before it can get very far, the door to the parking garage falling shut behind them both. “First of all, I would never perform at a birthday party, and second, no.” The end of autumn presses cold fingers to the back of his neck as they step outside the hospital’s shadow, the streetlights pretending to give off a warmth of their own. “It was... changeling business. I had to help move someone around.”

“‘Changeling business,’” Levi repeats, arching one eyebrow. “Is that part of your distance-routine, or is that what you actually call it?”

Eren can smell his own magic on Levi’s keys as they turn a corner, the crosswalk signal blinking orange across the street. He can almost feel it’s rhythm against his ribs. “It’s the easiest thing to call it, kind of. The fae have their own inefficient government institutions just like mortals do, and some Courts are kinder to changelings than others. I help move them to safer places.”

“Oh,” he says, the pad of his thumb scraping against the edge of the cardboard sleeve as he turns the cup between his hands. “That’s... not at all what I thought you were going to say.”

“That’s because sociopolitics is boring,” Eren tells him, listening to a burst of laughter from nurses heading toward the hospital for their shift. There’s the smell of magic sticking to one of them, and it curls Eren’s tongue with something bitter. “For the record, you call a lot of the shit I say ‘part of my enigma-routine,’ or whatever, but I don’t know that much about you either.”

Eren bumps their elbows together, arching both his eyebrows in the perfect imitation of one of Levi’s favorite faces, but it’s an effort that goes entirely unrewarded. Levi’s attention is elsewhere, focused on something just out of sight. This is what it must be like for humankind, probably—knowing that there’s something in your periphery, but not knowing anything about what it is.  

Another pause stretches between them then, and a different expression flirts with the edges of Levi’s face, tightening the skin at the corners of his mouth.  It reminds Eren of the way clay looks as it hardens, settling into an image that’s made of sharper lines and polished points, as if they hadn’t left the too-bright lighting of the parking garage behind them.

A second crosswalk comes into view, and the icon across the street says that it’s safe. A pick-up truck idles at the traffic light as the driver checks their phone. It’s barely the beginning of the walk to Levi’s apartment, and the conversation has already taken a turn for the uncomfortable. It’s the perfect time to let Levi know that it’s not him that makes this shit happen—it’s not the questions about dying, or about pierced ears, or about the sociopolitical climate of the world wedged in between the humans and the purebloods. It’s just Eren, and the way he says things, and the curse that comes with wrapping words in barbed wire to keep people three steps away from his personal space. Except it’s not a curse.

Shit, it’d probably be easier if he was cursed. At least you can fix those. Skills are harder to get rid of.

Levi stops at the crosswalk, even as the signal across the street continues to glow a steady white.

There’s nothing sharp on Eren’s tongue when he breathes in to say something, and what he wants to say doesn’t cut his windpipe on the way up, but Levi beats him to speaking anyway.

“When do you have to be back at work?” Levi asks. The driver of the pick-up truck rubs at their nose, their features cast half in shadow by the light from their phone.

“Um, probably not for a couple hours? I promised Connie a vanilla chai latte for taking a generalized ‘coffee break,’ so that probably gives me about half an hour of wiggle room.” The signal on the crosswalk changes, blinking red at them in anticipation for the pick-up truck to restart its journey to wherever it’s going. “Why? I didn’t mean anything by—you know, it’s fine to be a private person, and you’ve been really understanding about this whole... thing, so...”

The crosswalk stops blinking and the pick-up truck rumbles forward, making a turn onto the cross street. The driver’s phone is back in the cupholder, or on the passenger seat beside them. It’s then that Levi takes the corner, away from the crosswalk toward his apartment, and begins to skirt the edges of the medical center, sipping from his coffee cup.

It’s surprising enough that it takes Eren more than half-a-breath to follow after him. “Where are we going?”

When Levi speaks next, it sounds like carved marble, shaped in exactly the way he’d intended it to be as Eren falls back into step beside him. “You’re right. About the fact that I don’t really tell you anything, I mean. So if you’ve got the time, let’s go somewhere.” There’s a pause, and Levi’s nostrils flare. “We’re going to need to take a bus, though. This would be just a little too much cardio after a graveyard shift.”

“No such thing.” His response is a reflex, almost, and isn’t anything like what he’d wanted to say. He clears his throat to try again. “I really didn’t mean anything by it. I was joking. It’s really—you’ve given me a lot more information than you’ve needed to, so I’m not—“

“I’m boring,” Levi says. It’s like a marble, the way it hits the pavement beneath their feet and rolls ahead of them, clattering softly in the chill. “Compared to you, I’m boring. I’ve lived an average life with average problems, so it didn’t seem important, really.”

Eren’s feet stutter over a raised crack in the sidewalk, and feel his insides knot around his stomach. When he swallows, he can feel the imprint of tires against his tongue. “Last I heard, there wasn’t anything wrong with an average life, and from personal experience, weird shit happens to you. Even if it didn’t, I don’t see how that makes your business less important than my business.” His own lips are chapped from the cold as he drags his tongue across them. “You didn’t think you were boring when you were telling me shit about you in the coffee shop, back in October.”

Levi snorts, a quiet thing against the mouth of his coffee cup. “That was different.”

“No,” Eren replies, and when Levi glances toward him, he holds onto his gaze with both hands. “It wasn’t.”

Rhythms shift beneath Eren’s skin as Levi sips from his coffee cup, dropping his eyes away from Eren’s face. Night buses trim their routes a little further now that two o’clock is coming, and the ferries are still hours off from their first runs of the day. There’s something else vibrating in his gums that feels like the city, or something squirming around inside its borders, and it makes his head ache. But the discomfort lasts only as long as the pause between them does, and when Levi opens his mouth it’s almost enough to make Eren laugh.

“What do you want to know?” The question is carried on what looks like coffee steam, twisting through a series of shapes as its caught in the backdraft of a passing cab. Levi’s nose wrinkles—at his own phrasing or the reek of gasoline fumes, it’s impossible to say. “Jesus Christ, is that how you feel when you ask that? Like you’re going off to war?”

There’s coffee in Eren’s lungs when he tries to breathe past the snort that had almost killed him, and the nighttime is cold against his teeth. “More like to my own execution, ready and waiting for you to call me on some bullshit and then pull the lever and, whoop, there goes the noose.”

Levi’s lips thin further, going bloodless underneath the pressure before he says, “that’s not how it is.” A pause, punctuated by barely-there traffic and the whisper of lips on the edge of a paper coffee cup. And then, “so what did you want to know?”

It’s an echo from Eren’s apartment, and when he blinks he can see the imprint of Levi’s face on the backs of his eyelids as he leans forward with his elbows pressed to the surface of the table. His chair had creaked when he’d leaned forward and he’d said—

“Everything.” His voice doesn’t carry very far, though it should. Instead, it sounds like they’re sitting in Levi’s car, with Eren’s speaking low enough that it’s Levi’s tone he’s trying on, tasting antiseptic and formaldehyde when he breathes. Except this doesn’t taste like the morgue had—like after-the-morgue had. Like a burning body and the edges of a saltwater fog. This is something else entirely. “But I’m sure I can settle for less than that right now.”

Levi makes a sound at the back of his throat that’s a cross between a laugh and a scoff, hiding it against his fingers as if that would make it any less audible. “Do you save the shit I say just so you can use it later? For that little extra impact when I’m feeling particularly stubborn?”

Eren’s coffee cup almost slips from his fingers.

(There are moments in his life that are impossible to forget, no matter how many times he rises from the dead.

He knows the taste of riverwater, though his taste buds have changed countless times since then. He knows the feeling of broken ribs, the way that tires sound when they can’t get proper traction against the road underneath them. He knows the way that twenty-four hour laundromats smell between sunset and sunrise, and knows the way that the smell of cigarettes mingles with the thickness of fabric softener as an analog clock ticks in the background.

Eren remembers a lot of the moments that have changed his life, word for word.)

“Nah.” There’s sandpaper in his throat as the sole of one sneaker hits the curb on the corner of Pike and Boren. The sign there advertises the bus routes, both for the morning and the nighttime runs. Every 15 minutes, it says in peeling paint. “Nothing like that. Are you trying to avoid the questions I haven’t even asked yet? That’s admirable. I’m not sure even I’ve done that, and you’re really fucking nosy.”

Raindrops, left behind hours before, still cling to the signpost on the street corner. They quiver when Levi leans against it, falling to the pavement as a grimace pulls at Levi’s mouth, wrinkling the skin beside his eyes in a way that laughter ought to do. His coffee cup turns slowly in his hands, one of his thumbs dragging against the edge of the cardboard sleeve. It’s a habit, Eren thinks, and his attention is always drawn there.

“So, what do you want to know?” Levi’s voice opens like flower petals, unfurling before a sunrise as he asks the same question—but it feels different. It feels intentional, when he speaks like that, though his eyes are focused on a storm drain across the street. A newspaper sticks to the grating there, its headlines blurred by the day it’d had and the early evening’s rain. “Specifically.”

Eren can hear the water moving beneath the sidewalk.  

“Well,” he speaks against the lip of his coffee cup, shifting his weight between his feet, “where are we going?”

Levi’s laugh hits the theatre across the street, scattering against the backlit marquis. The streetlight above them tucks itself in the lines beside his mouth, spreads itself across the hollows of his cheeks. It makes Eren’s throat feel tight. “That’s a surprise? That’s barely even a question. I thought you wanted to get weird and personal, not impatient and juvenile.”

A bus brakes up the street, its hiss making its way down the street to precede the soft squeal its tires as it rises from the curb where it had stopped. Sylphs flutter in front of its headlights, casting shadows along the wide windows of the buildings. From this far way, they almost look like pixies.

“I thought I would make it easy for you,” Eren tells him, watching the bus lumber toward the traffic light at the intersection of Pine and 9th. Levi steps away from the bus stop, tossing his empty coffee cup in the wastebin behind it. “But if you insist...”

“Now you’re just dicking around,” Levi replies, pulling is wallet from his back pocket. “And after I told you my fucking birthday.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a smile playing with his lips. Everything he says is colored white, balancing on the vapor even as it disappears.

“Maybe I couldn’t decide on a question. Maybe I’m biding my time.”

The Night Owl pulls over, kneeling with another hiss, and it makes the air around them taste of diesel. Eren can feel the rumble inside his chest, can feel it tap a counter-rhythm to his heartbeat—and then something inside him shifts back into place, scribbles the street-map of the city back onto the underside of his skin, and the inside of his nose stings with the smell of gasoline.

He can feel magic itching in his palms as Levi steps onto the bus with a snort, swiping his ORCA card twice at the ticket station. Behind him, Eren can catch the still-stale smell of his magic attached to Levi’s keys.

It isn’t until the bus begins to move again that he smells a different kind of magic.

The reek of diesel fuel is forgotten under the weight of seaweed and seal fur, and the rocking of the Night Owl is reminiscent of something else entirely—like a fishing boat out at sea.

The driver and Eren only lock eyes for half-a-moment, and the wide, dark pupils swallow the whites of their eyes until they look back at the street through their windshield. Their webbed hands are loose against the steering wheel, their cold-weather clothes worn close enough that it’s almost impossible to see their too-smooth skin even this close.

There’s no Selkie skin tied around their waist, or worn around their throat—and Eren has always known a changeling when he’s seen one.

Levi is waiting for him in the back seat, despite the fact that every seat is empty. The column of his spine is pressed against the window, his legs stretched around across the seat beside him. Eren takes up the same posture at the seat’s other end, the city moving slowly around them both.

“Smells like a beach,” Levi tells him, one arm draped over his backpack, resting in his lap.

“Smells like a Selkie.” The air unit above them comes to life to breathe out a huff of warm air, soothing the almost too-cold tip of Eren’s nose. “But I figured out my first question.”

Levi’s eyebrows arch high as he shifts against the window, the corners of his lips turning upward, though there’s tension settling in the hard line of his jaw. His eyes are doing that liquid thing, as if moonlight is trapped inside them, and his eyelashes catch the harsh white of the fluorescent lights along the roof as if they’re holding onto stars.

There are a countless number of things he could ask here, things that a member of the fae would want to know. what’s your blood-type? what time of day were you born? where are your parents from? what’s your earliest memory? He knows what kinds of magic each question lends itself to, knows the dangerous pieces of information that humankind offer up without knowing just how powerful they are.

But in that moment, Eren feels like a human grade schooler—like a boy playing twenty questions at the ass-end of the morning, unable to sleep with a phone in front of his face. what’s your favorite color? what’s your favorite song? are you a cat person or a dog person or both? is there anyone you like?

Every question is coated in something sour, in something too-tart to stomach, and it purses his lips into a thin line. It’s enough to make his teeth feel close to rotting.

When he swallows them, they scrape against the lining of his throat. “What did you want to be when you were little? Before you went to doctor school?”

Levi blinks at him, and the thinness in his smile disappears as it relaxes in surprise. “That’s your first question?” A laugh, soft and disbelieving, the ghost of mist over water. “You could ask me anything, and you ask me that?”

(A harmless question, stuck between a coffeeshop window and the general noise around them. Everything had smelled of ground coffee beans and baking things, of autumn and the rain, of Samhain magic building at the edges of everything, curling under doors and pressing against walls.

“so where are you from? you’ve got an accent, and i can’t tell what it is.”)

“‘Hi, my name is Levi, so where are you from? You talk funny, and I’m not sure just what kind of funny it is.’” It’s an oversimplification of a scene that Eren knows verbatim. He can still see the way the question hangs between them, can still see the way it had rested on the table. He can still feel the way his own magic had been building on his tongue.

But it earns him a snort, soft against the inside of Levi’s nose, and the force-less weight of Levi’s sneaker against his shin. “This’ll bore you. You’ll say it’s the most boring shit you’ve ever heard, and I’m going to tell you that I told you so.”

Levi’s gaze is heavy enough to feel like a hand pressing down on his sternum, and Seattle once more goes quiet beneath the stretch of his skin. “Stop stalling and tell me what you wanted to be when you grew up.”

A sigh, and his head hits the window, his shoulders rolling slowly. “I always wanted to be a doctor, I just waffled on what kind of doctor I wanted to be. When I was in elementary school, I wanted to be a pediatrician, and I wanted to ban shots.” Levi’s nose wrinkles when he laughs, his eyes following his memories back and forth in the space where Eren’s knee is bent. “When I was in high school, I wanted to be an oncologist, because I thought that was very noble. When I actually got to medical school, I appreciated the precision necessary for surgical work, and I could save lives with skills like that, instead of guessing at saving lives. I felt undefeatable, for moments at a time, every time I changed my mind. Like, I don’t know. Like ‘this is what I wanna do for the rest of my life.’ Shit like that.”

“I’m not as surprised as I thought I’d be by that,” Eren says. “You are really stubborn. It figures that you’d pick your career at, like, age five.”

Another nudge from Levi’s sneakers, another snort that hits the backs of Levi’s teeth. “Fuck you. You’re the one that’s like ‘ah, yes, I’m going to cremate bodies all by myself because I am the only one who knows what I’m doing at any given time.’ Stubborn my ass.”

Eren’s own laughter drags itself against the roof of his mouth. “Excuse me? You are Doctor ‘I’m very obviously uncomfortable with all this faerie shit, but I don’t want you to erase my memories because I’m stubborn.’ That’s literally a conversation we had. Multiple times.”

Levi’s fingers tighten around his backpack as the bus takes a corner, the momentum jostling them both. “Ask me something else. I like you better when you’re not being a fucking know-it-all.”

“Ha! Okay.” Eren wedges his empty coffee cup between his hip and the seat itself, resettling against the window at his back. He can feel the coming winter through the glass, can feel ice settling against his shoulder blades. “Hmm. Did you collect anything as a kid? Coins? Bugs? Baseball cards?”

Levi’s fingers toy with one of the zippers on his backpack, his thumb pressing hard to its topmost curve while he hums a tone that might be something thoughtful. His head shifts, offering up a view of his profile, and it’s haloed by the city’s lights as they move through the streets, crawling down Eastlake Avenue toward Portage Bay. Holiday lights throw pearls of color over Levi’s skin, turning the edges of his irises into an endless play of shifting shades.

They’re like freckles, almost. Kisses left behind by streetlamps and traffic lights blending in with the shadows left behind by nightshifts and a high caffeine intake.

When Levi finally speaks, it’s like the drag of fingertips on sand. “I collected poetry books.” The zipper pressed to his thumb taps gently against his backpack when he lets it go. “Older ones, if I could get them. First editions at thrift stores. Yeats was one of my favorites. He’s the asshole that wrote that—that wrote ‘wine comes in at the mouth, and love comes in at the eye; that’s all we shall know for truth, before we grow old and die. I lift the glass to my mouth, I look at you, and—’”

“‘—I sigh,’” Eren says before his mouth can hit the brakes, and the last line tastes like mocha on his tongue. One of Levi’s eyebrows rises, a little, balanced in a question he doesn’t even have to ask. “I’ve got a friend that—she likes her poetry. Usually it’s really Classic stuff. She—Shakespeare. Very into—yeah.”

“And you’ve got a Bachelor’s in English Literature. I remember.” Levi’s face softens in places that Eren hadn’t even realized were tense, and this smile is different from the few that had come before. It’s even different from the one’s he’s seen on recent nights a lot like this one, where Levi’s on the other end of their stupid question-game.

Levi looks so human—but that doesn’t make sense. He’s always human. This is something—different. It might be something different. Eren doesn’t know what it is.

(There’s a memory, here—though it’s old enough to be faded at the edges.

“humankind is beautiful,” his mother had told him once, before the world had decided to carve her out of granite. He’d been curled up in his bed, had been buried beneath one blanket and one quilt as snow had fallen outside his window—snow that would be melted come morning. “they’re soft, when they let themselves be. they’re trusting.”

She’d reached out from where she’d been sitting, her wooden chair creaking with her weight, and she’d pressed her finger to one of Eren’s cheeks. “like you,” she’d said, as if his mortality hadn’t been a curse, then. As if the human world wouldn’t come after them both.

He’d blown a sound at her with his tongue pressed between his lips.

Her face had gone gentle enough to look almost human.)

Ah. It’s that Levi looks vulnerable.

“Why poetry books?” Eren’s voice is barely above a whisper, as if they’re sharing secrets in a place filled with people—as if this information is something the bus driver would be craving on a run this late at night.

“I like the rhythm. Started with that Shel Silverstein shit when I was a really little kid. Carried from there, I guess. I’ve got like two full shelves of them, just to have them around. I haven’t even read them all—just found collections of them with poems I liked and bought them to skim through.” He lifts a hand to wiggle his fingers, leaning forward to speak low enough that goosebumps rise on Eren’s arms. “Besides, it’s easier to work when you can find a rhythm that gets your mind off of the hard part.”

For a one heartbeat, the city is loud enough inside his head that it’s almost unbearable. Magic is pushing against his skin, pulling it tight enough to be painful. A sudden chill, the press of a hand against the back of his skull, mud and silt and reeds beneath his fingers, the feeling of people everywhere at the edges of his awareness, the feeling of the town becoming sharp in his senses as water filled his lungs—

The moment carries into two heartbeats. Three. Four.

(“the hard part.”)

Levi speaks again, and there’s the rhythm—the city settles again into something quieter. “My mom was really accommodating, all things considering. She’d spend hours in thrift stores with me. Old bookstores. My friends have even gotten me little pocket poetry books, as if I carry that shit around with me. I’ve got a drawer of those.”

A pulse. Rail lines, bus routes, pedestrians. Storm drain runoff and shifting tides. Traffic light sensors and the traffic itself. Diesel, brine, and the electric-hum of life. Energy. Humankind collected. Magic.  

Eren’s mouth is dry when he says, “did you know that you’re really not near as boring as you think you are?”

Levi blinks, this time slowly. The timbre of the bus changes as they hit the bridge across Portage Bay.

When he smiles, it begins around his eyes. The skin there wrinkles, making lines that will one day be crow’s feet. It stretches over his cheekbones, makes the hollows of his cheeks disappear. It pulls at his mouth and lifts the corners of his lips. It dips his shoulders, curls his spine, and pushes him another half-inch forward.

“Shut up,” he says, and the city’s lights behind him drape over the water, rippling in the breeze. “Ask another question.”

“Right,” Eren replies. There are Sluagh in the city, somewhere, and he’d left his store behind for longer than he’d planned. He’s been taking time like this more often than not, recently—meeting in a hospital parking garage for an hour or so at a time, taking a break from the careful balancing act between two worlds that can’t handle one another. There’s work to be done, because there’s always work to be done. But here he is, on a bus, across the city. “Okay.”

The work will be there when he gets back. It’s always there when he gets back.

It is then Eren pushes aside the curtain between the mortal world and the fae. He can feel it give beneath his hands, flutter against his fingers.

And he reaches out.

-

(Eren’s shape had fit the doorway almost perfectly as he’d leaned against the doorframe, the streetlamp from the mouth of the alley barely strong enough to cling to the edges of his face, to the curve of his irises, to the line of his throat. But he’d been distinct enough, backlit as he’d been by the light from the stairwell, haloing his shoulders like a nebulous cloud.

“i’ve got a weakness for happy endings,” Eren had told him, and he’d spoken so softly that Levi had almost missed it inside a breeze that smelled of distant seawater. “like, real happy endings. the heroes win and the bad guys lose, all that shit.” His eyes had looked impossible, edgeless and wide, throwing even the weakest light as if they’d been cut to do so. “tragedies have always been hard on my stomach.”

Eren had said it like a secret, as if he’d murmured his confession into an envelope and physically pressed it into Levi’s hands.

The air around him had tasted a lot like the city’s alleys always had—like old newspapers, left to soak up stagnant rainwater, like the Sound, just too far out of reach to freshen anything. But the shop’s back door had been wide open, and the smell of magic had been pressing hard against his tongue. Cinnamon and maple syrup. Rainwater and heather.

“you know something?” Levi had replied, leaning forward to leave his own words against Eren’s palms. He’d been able to see a bicycle resting against the stairwell wall out of the corner of his eye. “me too.”)

The darkness of the planetarium is split apart when the projector comes on, displaying labeled constellations on the curved walls, lines connecting stars together that would be impossible to see in a city this size. For a moment, the only sounds are Levi’s fingers on the keyboard and the hum of the equipment to either side.

Eren’s shadow reaches across the stars as he skirts the edges of the wall, trailing his fingertips over the paths that human eyes had traced between the stars, making shapes or whatever it was they’d looked like centuries and centuries before.

Levi can’t tell if he’s impressed or not.

“I never really visited the astronomy department,” Eren says, standing on his toes to follow the line of Capricorn with his index finger. “I didn’t even know this place had a fucking planetarium and I probably graduated after you! Maybe I was a worse student than I thought.”  

“I’ve got a friend that works in the astronomy department,” Levi explains, tapping his fingers against the keyboard until the lines between the stars disappear, the solar system flickering into view as stardust rotates along the walls. “They’d let me study here when I had exams, and they showed me how to work the equipment. They were bored, I guess, and I needed a break sometimes.”

There’s a hole in the curve of Saturn’s ring shaped like Eren’s head as he wanders along the wall, still trailing his fingers along its edge. “You studied in here?”

It’s not the question Levi had expected. Eren hasn’t asked anything that Levi had expected.

(Levi had seen it on the inside of his eyelids when he’d blinked. “and they gave you a key to this place?” The Eren he’d been trying to predict had said. His eyebrows had arched high on his forehead, and Levi had caught a glimpse of his teeth as he’d smiled. “i saw you with a key to this place.”

“they did,” Levi had said in the fake-world he’d made to practice in, in the world where he could’ve said any number of more interesting things, “after they caught me picking locks for some peace.”

This is what he gets, Levi supposes. One should never try and predict the unpredictable.)

“I did.” There’s almost no echo in the planetarium, even as Levi joins Eren near the bottom of the stairs, Jupiter coming into view around an asteroid that has a name with more numbers than letters. Stars stick to Levi’s skin when he points to a long table that looks almost white, just outside the projector’s reach. “Right over there.”

Eren’s footsteps are silent as he makes his way across the floor, his shadow traveling along the wall in his wake, scattering stars and planets and space-rocks with his shoulders. It doesn’t disappear until he perches on the corner of the table, the wide cone of the projector’s lights barely missing the artful mess of his hair.

There’s a pause between them as the stars watch, the room filled with the gentle murmur of running equipment and the heating units set into the walls. From here, Eren’s eyes look like nebulae—like stars ready to be born.

“Are you coming, or not?” And there’s the smile Levi had pictured, the hint of teeth behind his lips. “You’ve got a pop quiz.”

“I didn’t study,” Levi says, though his feet are moving him forward anyway. The solar system rotates around them, it seems like—even though the Sun itself is farther along the wall, the size of a fist in the infinitude of space.

“I have the utmost faith in you.” Eren speaks over the scrape of Levi’s chair along the floor, the toe of one shoe resting against the tile beneath the table. “So, first question—what are the given names of the Big and Little Dipper, respectively?”

It feels silly, this whole thing. The way his elbows feel against the table, the way Eren’s lips are curved just enough to make this question something mischievous, the way Jupiter comes from the left and turns the room red and brown and yellow. The colors tint Eren’s hair, a little, clinging to the strands that aren’t quite safe from the rotating projector.

“Ursa Major,” Levi tells him, resting his chin in the palm of one hand, “and Ursa Minor. That’s not even a real astronomy question. That’s a question you ask kindergarteners.”

Eren snorts out a laugh, his teeth pressing against his lower lip to smother it against his tongue. There’s a whisper of sound behind him, something that sounds like music, and a flicker of light out of the corner of his eye. Another sound, this one even softer than the first, the murmur of... claws? Of... something against the floor.

And then nothing but the hum of machinery, the projector whirring gently against the curved slope of the ceiling.

“What’s a real astronomy question, then?” Jupiter has left a wine-stain against Eren’s throat as it moves between the stars, its moons winking in and out of sight. One of the many presentations in the planetarium uses this exact system map coupled with a voiceover, engaging and informative. Levi knows that there would be a question about Ganymede, the largest of Jupiter’s moons.

So he says, “is it possible that a gas giant’s moon could support life?”

Eren’s laughter carries out into the darkness, captured by the gravity of Europa, Jupiter’s second largest satellite. “Fuck, um. I don’t know. Probably? I think that happened in Star Wars. But I—shit. I don’t know. You turned my quiz back on me. That’s hardly fair.”

Levi slides his fingers into place over his mouth to hide a smile, lifting one eyebrow only slightly. “Maybe you should ask better questions.”

He’s rewarded with another snort as Eren turns his head to watch Jupiter rise higher on the wall as it moves farther into space. One of his cheeks is sucked in just enough for him to chew on it, the motion shifting muscles in his jaw as he thinks. Levi can see echoes of thoughts moving through his body—the way his sneaker twitches against the tile floor, the way he leans his weight against the palm pressed to the surface of the table, the way his throat bobs when he smiles.

Whatever it was he’d been thinking about settles in his left hand as he lifts it, palm out. It’s a ridiculous posture for a classroom—planetarium. A museum would want art like this, a boy with his hand held out to someone in an offer. A faerie, about to make a deal with someone. A story, beginning with a half-smile and an introduction, instead of a gasp and a muffled curse, instead of a room that smelled of preservatives and antiseptic, instead of—

The image breaks apart when Eren speaks.

“If you could make up your own constellation,” he says, “what would it be?”

Levi blinks. “What?”

Eren’s eyes aren’t on his face, but he can feel his attention as if they were. “You said to come up with better questions, so I did. If you could move shit around to make your own constellation, what would it be?”

“Is this the essay portion of the quiz?” It’s a stalling tactic, a sentence like that. It allows time for him to process whatever his answer would be. For a moment, he’d been on even footing, had been able to guess at the information Eren had been looking for. Standard things, if asked after in a roundabout way, or things that Levi hadn’t asked himself in years.

This isn’t quite like that. Levi’s never thought about this before. He’s a doctor, not an astrologer. He wouldn’t know how to craft a starsign if it bit him on the ass.

“No,” and Eren’s standing, a breeze ruffling the hem of his shirt. Levi’s seen this before. “It’s show-and-tell.”

That’s the only warning he gets before planetarium goes dark.

It’s a darkness that his eyes can’t seem to adjust to, though the projector is still whirring from deep inside the shadows, as if it’s undisturbed by the fact that it’s suddenly become ineffective. The central heating is just as noisy, and Levi can smell it still pushing warm air into the room, can feel it curling around his ears. He can taste it, too, just before he opens his mouth to ask Eren if they’re both about to die.

Eren answers him before he can even ask.

“‘With a golden string,’” his voice comes from beside him, exactly where it had been before the lights had gone out, only this time it’s melodic, carried on a tune that Levi doesn’t know but raises goosebumps on his arms, pricks at his scalp. It’s beautiful enough to border on unnatural, as close as it sounds, “‘our universe was clothed in light.’”

The smell of rainfall and heather sighs across the floor, like a candle had been lit and blown out in the space of a heartbeat, barely long enough to let the smell linger—until a bubble of light comes alive in the center of the room, casting the tables and chairs within its reach in a yellow-white glow. Eren’s magic sighs again as the first light is joined by a second, the smell strong enough to push itself over the backs of Levi’s hands, up the line of his neck, over his cheeks.

A third, closer to the wall reveals the projection of the solar system, Pluto coming close enough that its color is washed out by the extra lighting. A fourth, bursting into existence at Levi’s shoulder, revealing Eren’s shape beside him, his hands tucked into his pockets as he murmurs under his breath. A fifth light, and a sixth, and a seventh, joined by at least ten more, gathering together around each other like oversized fireflies.

Or, rather, like stars.

(Memory-washing, pressed against his eyelids. Protection charms, wrapping around a keyring. Listening to the echoes of a life cut short, a silent film played out in the center of a morgue. Cremation, the acrid smell of smoke and burning things. Warding windows and doors, covering them in magic threaded together like lacework.

There had been a function to spells like those—magic given in fits and bursts, in situations where options were limited, in moments that were either desperate or routine enough to barely warrant the batting of an eye.

This feels like something different. It feels—like Chinese food eaten at a kitchen table. Like a baking competition, seen only in the form of reruns. Like a birthdate, spoken without any preamble, tucked between the cushions of an ugly-but-comfortable sofa. Like the beginning of a tale that has an ending worth finding out.

It feels like magic given freely, and Levi isn’t quite sure what it means.)

“So about that constellation?” Eren says, his eyes glowing in the lamplight—starlight. He nudges one of the bubbles with his hip, letting it bounce against Levi’s elbow with a gentle heat. “Words don’t count, by the way.”

“Well, there goes my idea of writing ‘what the fuck,’ in the stars.” The bubble is solid between his hands, though it feels like a paper lantern when he drags his thumbs across the surface. “What happened to the relatively normal questions you were asking before? Is this supposed to give you some special insight into my personality like some weird, space-age Rorschach test, or are you just showing off for my benefit?”

Eren’s laughter is like—stardust. No. Like rainfall on concrete. Like... fuck. Levi doesn’t know what it’s like, but it carries across the room, hitting tables and chairs with excited fingers. It’s difficult to describe, when there’s magic-born light playing across his features, sharpening his cheekbones and the cut of his jaw, curling beneath the curve of his eye and turning the honey-almond of his skin a different shade.

He’s ethereal. He’s not—he isn’t human, and Levi can tell, can see it in the way his laugh travels from his head to his feet like liquid, and he’s beautiful. Almost enough to be terrifying. Almost enough to scaled his fingers if he were to touch him.

“Levi,” a ball of light is tossed between Eren’s hands, shifting the shadows across his face. It makes him look younger than he is—than he normally looks. It makes him look like this is the first university classroom he’s ever been in. “Are you implying that I’d use my magic to impress you?”

Levi’s scoff tastes of Eren’s magic and coffee, and when he tosses the faerie star in his hands at Eren’s chest, it bounces away like a balloon, half-filled with helium. “I’m not implying anything. Are you telling me there aren’t codes against frivolous uses of magic, or something? You don’t have regulatory boards for that sort of thing?”

Eren’s shrug is small enough to leave the air beside him undisturbed. “The fae don’t believe in frivolous uses of magic. Purebloods are like powerhouses—they don’t really waste magic. They use it, and they’re fine. Sure, there are some that can’t use strong magic, but for the shit they’re good at? They can do it all day.” The planetarium’s projector speckles distant stars on Eren’s forehead, settling them above his eyebrows. “Changelings are different. We’ve got limits, generally speaking. All magic is frivolous when it’s done by us. ‘Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.’ Basic physics. Changelings can use magic, but not indefinitely, and not without costs. Headaches, exhaustion, nausea...” A pause, half-a-breath long, and Eren’s pupils contract only barely. Levi doesn’t know what they’re reacting to, with the lighting as sporadic as it is. It’s like he’s seeing something else—feeling something else.

When he continues, it’s as if there hadn’t been a break between one thought and the next. “But even if there were rules about that sort of thing, I don’t consider this frivolous.”

Even without the star-bubble in his hands, Levi’s palms are sweating. “No?”

“No,” Eren repeats himself, shrugging for the second time. This one is larger than the first, loosens his shoulders as it lifts them. “It means I didn’t put any thought into it, or that it’s not important, or that—I don’t know.” His lips thin and his eyebrows furrow, and when he looks at Levi like that, there isn’t a whole lot he could say that Levi wouldn’t believe. “I did think about it, and I decided to do it anyway.”

Levi doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s coming to find himself in this position a lot when Eren is involved.

(“i’m lucky to have you here.” That same expression—furrowed eyebrows, a frown pulling at the corners of Eren’s mouth. The air pressure in the car had been much the same as it is now. It had felt difficult to breathe. It had felt at once like a weight on his chest and a stone being lifted from his shoulders.

Eren’s eyes had seemed to be glowing then, too—but he hadn’t used any magic yet.)

When words finally try to scramble onto Levi’s tongue, they’re all out of order and crushed together. They’re lightweight, but suffocating, like marshmallows that hadn’t quite committed to inflating yet. Trying to order them takes time, and Eren’s just looking at him, and his eyes are something that have to have some from somewhere otherworldly, and Levi almost can’t believe that he’d doubted the reality of magic, of things just outside the realm of human possibility.

With the universe twirling around them both, with more-than-manmade stars still hovering by their bodies, Eren is once again too beautiful to be human.

“You’re going to get an ego now, aren’t you?” Eren speaks before Levi can get the words right, though they’d been shaping into something that had tasted like a thank you for sharing this with me, like a you don’t have to do this, like... something meaningful, maybe. “Now that I’ve said that, you’re—“

The main door to the planetarium swings wide, its weight hitting the wall with an echo loud enough to startle them. Eren’s shoulders twitch, his eyelids fluttering, and the bubbles of light around them all pop at once, the shadows evaporating like water against a hot stone. Levi feels his own bones ice over, his skin prickling with disbelief, and the beam of an LED flashlight settles on their shoulders, pressing against their clothes with all the intensity of a verbal accusation.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” the police officer says, their voice low enough to hit the thin-tiled floor with a heavy sound. “You know this is breaking and entering? Tuition doesn’t cover after hours visits for this department, and this is private property.”

“Holy shit,” Eren whispers, taking a step backward, his entire body shifting so that one hand is just out of view from the officer, who’s already taking purposeful steps toward them with their keys rattling at their hip. “I thought you had a key?”

“A key isn’t the same as actual authority to be here,” Levi replies, hissing from between his teeth. “Hanji never asked for it back, so I never returned it. It never came back up.”

Eren’s nose wrinkles when he laughs, his teeth catching hold of his bottom lip until the sound is too strong to keep in. Sparks come from behind his teeth, and for the second time the planetarium begins to fill with the scent of heather and rainwater, rising up from the floor, pulling a fog up behind it, thick enough to cut. The jingling of the keys stops, the officer’s voice muffled by the weight of the magic, or the fog, or both.

The spell itself is something simple, carried on a tune that Levi knows he recognizes, something weighed down with excitement, something driven forward by a thrill.

And Eren snaps his fingers.

The solar system display goes dark at the same time the planetarium itself is thrown into some sort of motion. It’s as if the room had been filled with fireworks, sparks catching in the fog to give the illusion of motion, the different colors swirling together in patterns that are difficult on the eyes, weaving around one another in too-bright ribbons. The fog itself has thickened further, a living thing curling around Levi’s ankles and his shoulders and his throat. It makes him dizzy, standing here, and if he didn’t know better he’d say that there was another song, somewhere in the chaos. Fucking—he’s imagining it, he knows he is—Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.

“We’re running for the door. Hold your breath.” Eren’s voice is close enough to Levi’s ear that he can almost feel his breath there a heartbeat before there are fingers wrapped over his own. The light behind them is already slowing down, and there’s the thud of a person hitting the floor, and then they’re out the door and into the hallway, the planetarium shutting solidly behind them.

It smells different out here. The air is breathable and tastes of the building’s heating unit, though Eren’s magic is still buzzing around Levi’s body, filling his nose, clinging to the inside of his sinuses. The lethargy that had been beginning to wrap around his body has been left somewhere in their wake, cast aside as they took the stairs too quickly to be safe, and Levi can feel his fingers tightening around Eren’s own.

They don’t stop running until the Institute for Nuclear Theory is just in sight, and Eren doesn’t let go until they stop running.

It’s fucking cold outside, noticeable in a way that it hadn’t been before now that Levi’s sucking in air, the deep breaths catching on his tonsils, scraping down the lining of his windpipe, and hitting the base of his lungs like rocks. He feels out of shape in a way he hasn’t felt since—well... since he’d chased after Eren in that coffee shop almost two months ago now. Fucking Christ.

Eren’s gasping is matching Levi’s own, even as he holds onto a streetlamp with one hand, swinging himself around it as though a musical number is about to start that Levi hadn’t been made aware of. And he hasn’t stopped laughing since he’d thrown the spell at the police officer, yards and yards and yards behind them.

There are words in there, maybe. It sounds like gibberish, but it has to be something. What Eren just said had definitely not been a laugh. It had sent something electric through Levi’s body, had curled in his gut with enough force to warm his cheeks.

“What did you just say?” It’s easier to breathe in slower bouts when Levi rights himself, pulling his hands away from his knees to watch Eren go still against the lamppost.

“What?” His hair is a fucking mess, tossed wild by their run, or his magic, or whatever. His pupils are wider than they’d been inside the planetarium, and that isn’t normal. There’s more light out here. “What did you just ask me?”

Another deep breath, this one smoother than the last. Progress. “I asked you what you said. It came out garbled, and I didn’t know what you were saying, and I wanted to make sure it wasn’t another cue to run.”

“Oh.” Eren’s hand comes away from the streetlight to push through his hair, and the smile that had been sitting on his lips goes wider. “Nah. It was—“ He swallows, takes a breath, and slows down, shaping his mouth around the words, “I said, ‘rydym yn dawnsio ar y dibyn.’ It’s a... Welsh figure of speech. We’re ‘dancing on the edge of a cliff.’ We’re playing with fire. We’re flying too close to the fucking proverbial, police-enforced Sun.” This laugh is softer, the edges of it gentle when it falls upon the concrete. “Fucking—shit, that was fun.” His gaze is warm enough to mimic the feeling of palms against Levi’s face. “That was fucking fun, Levi.”

It feels like a reflex when he says, “but Eren, that was a crime.”

Eren scoffs, bumping their shoulders together. It’s a casual gesture—like the passing of Chinese food across a table. Like the sharing of a television show from an ocean away. Like the buying of coffee for almost three weeks now. “Shut up,” he says. “You’re being cheeky, first of all, and second of all you were getting high-and-mighty with me about remembering the shit you say. I call a foul.”

“Call a foul all you like,” Levi tells him, sliding his backpack from his shoulders to ease the weight of his clothes there, rolling them to make sure they still work. “I don’t see anything wrong with matching your bullshit. And when I remember things, it’s not whole conversations. You’re just fucking... good at that, I guess.”

“No. You just say important things.” Ah. There’s the—Levi can see it, when Eren tilts his head just the right way. The lamplight gathers on his skin enough to emphasize its darker color, and it crawls up his temple to curl over one eyebrow. It rounds the corners of his cheekbones, smooths out the sharp corners by his eyes, presses a gentle thumb to one corner of his mouth—and this is where the human and the fae meet in him, right here, when he smiles like this. He looks like the meeting of worlds. The—fuck. The beauty of both, or something. “You never got to answer my constellation question. Pony up.”

This is what he gets, you know, after talking about his fucking poetry collection.

Levi nudges at his backpack, sitting on the toes of his sneakers. “It probably just would’ve been a scalpel or something just as boring.”

“Stop calling yourself boring,” Eren huffs out a breath, tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his face twisting into a grimace. “I don’t think you’re boring. And a scalpel can’t be any worse than a fucking belt. Three stars in a line! That’s boring.”

The chill rubs the tip of Levi’s nose raw when he scoffs, shaking his head. “So you’re an art critic now? Going to go back to school to get a degree in calling the stars liars?”

For a moment, Eren only hums in response.

The only car on the road cutting through campus just then is a taxi, murmuring along the road to take a corner toward the residence halls. A screech comes from deeper on campus, something high-pitched and inhuman—but no human screams follow it, and the nighttime is quiet again, as much as it can be in a city this size.

“The stars don’t lie,” he says, finally. It’s spoken like a simple fact, as if it’s something that everyone ought to know. “The eyes of mortal beings, though? Prone to lies. We block out the shit we don’t want to see. Out of sight, out of mind...” Eren rocks back on his heels, somehow making even that gesture some kind of graceful, and he rolls his head on his neck to loosen the muscles there. “But whatever. I guess I’ll settle for another question then.”

Levi arches both his eyebrows and he watches. And he waits.

“What was your favorite childhood movie?” It’s asked with a sort of earnestness, the kind with which Eren asks all his questions, and yet it still catches Levi off-guard. It’s impossible to tell exactly what it is that Eren wants to know about him, what kind of information he’s looking for. This has become... something else. It’s become something that’s more like reaching across a chasm and finding something there to hold on to.

It’s funny, in a way—and frustrating in another. This was never supposed to be about him, really.

(Eren bleeding out on a concrete walkway, alone. Delirium from blood-loss. Words sticking together with thick strings of glue. He’d asked for something, and Levi had known then just like he knows now that Eren would never have said it aloud if he’d had just a pint more blood in his body. His fingers had already started to go cold when he’d spoken.

“stay here,” Eren had said, and it’s something that Levi will remember for the rest of his life.)

He supposes that, at some point, the story had decided to become about them.

“Easy,” Levi replies, and his own voice feels like it’s coming from someone else, like it’s coming from far away, “Balto, hands down. Best movie I ever watched growing up.”

Eren snorts, a laugh sitting on his tongue as he speaks around it, “really? I mean... I guess I should’ve figured, huh? That whole ‘hauling lifesaving medicine to people in desperate need,’ would be right up your kid-doctor alley. I was thinking something along the lines of Disney films, or whatever. Maybe even The Goonies.”

Levi huffs out a breath that might’ve been a laugh of his own if there hadn’t been a hand around his throat, making it difficult to breathe. There are things he wants to say digging into his tonsils, his tongue, the roof of his mouth.

it’s not the fucking antibiotics, he wants to say—but it’s the things he wants to say that tend to stick in his throat. it’s the wolfhound. the half-and-half. the place between worlds, to the benefit of both.

Instead, what he says is, “I told you, I’m a sucker for happy endings.” Levi’s spine creaks when he stoops to lift his backpack and shrug it back onto his shoulders, and he can feel Eren watching him move. “Tell you what. Since the stars didn’t line up for your creativity bullshit, do you want to see something else? It won’t be the same, but...”

Eren’s pupils dilate as he grins wide. “Oh? What are we going to go see?”

It’s hard not to smile back at that, and his own lips are curving upward before he can even gather the presence of mind to stop them. “I can show you where I learned to cut people open?”

The glimpse of teeth as Eren tilts his head and his face sharpens back into something ethereal. “What, I cheated you out of an autopsy and you’re trying to make good on it now? That’s a little fucked up don’t you think?”

“That’s not what I—“

“I was joking.” Eren flicks his fingers to knock Levi’s protest out of the way, letting it land in the middle of the street. “I want to see it. I told you I wanted to know things, didn’t I?” Their eyes meet in a way that’s becoming all too common, and Levi can feel his lungs squeeze together. Eren’s are glittering, as if there are precious metals hiding in the color there. “Do you have a key for this place too?”

Levi squares his shoulders and starts walking, Eren falling into step beside him only half-a-heartbeat behind. “No. This time, we pick the lock.”

Eren’s laughter carries on the breeze, and the late-autumn chill tastes like heather, and rainwater, and left-behind coffee.

(The medical school’s auditorium is almost-silent at three-thirty in the morning, the harsh spotlight pooling on the autopsy table at the bottom of the stairs that cut through the stadium-style seating. It will feel different, standing there and looking out at all the empty chairs. Levi had never seen the room from this angle, after all. The last time he’d been here, he’d been a student.

It smells like the hospital in here, almost. Antiseptic is clinging to almost every surface, stinging the inside of Levi’s nose.

The autopsy table itself creaks as Eren takes a seat on it, swinging his legs gently back and forth, the toes of his sneakers barely touching the morgue-style floor. It’s a lot like the first time they met, in some ways. His eyes are traveling along the auditorium’s walls, just like he’d mapped out the morgue at Virginia Mason. The too-sharp lighting is still puddling at his back, washing out the warm color of his skin.

“so,” Levi says, and Eren’s attention is yanked away from the walls as Levi takes a seat beside him on the autopsy table, “i have a question for you.”

“i’m supposed to be asking the questions here, doctor,” Eren replies, the motion of his feet jostling the table, its wheels rattling from their locked positions, “but you’ve been really accommodating. go ahead and ask.”

“you said once that you don’t drive.” Levi’s legs are still from where they’re hanging over the edge of the autopsy table, and the metal is cold beneath his palms. “why don’t you drive?”

Eren’s feet pause, settling into stillness for half-a-breath. And then they start moving again when he says, “i already told you. there are trade-offs when changelings use magic. usually we just get pukey. but i think the whole... dying thing makes things different, or whatever. maybe.” A hum, low and contemplative, and it raises the hairs at the back of Levi’s neck. “i get... distracted. i can hear the—you know. the city. christ, that sounds like bullshit.”

Levi watches him, traces the shape of his profile with his eyes. The jut of his nose. The cut of his jaw. His fucking cheekbones. “what do you mean?”

“it’s easy to get lost in all the noise. it’s noisy. and magic comes from—magic comes from the noise. the life of... wherever you are. the more life, the more magic to use, the noisier it is when you try and grab onto it. for me, i guess. i can’t drive, because i’ll get distracted and probably hit something. i’ve got a bicycle, though. it’s easier to manage.”

It’s the pit that Levi always falls into—the weird questions that seem to be wrapped in barbed wire. “and you just, what, decided to use magic for fun today?”

Eren shrugs, and the table quivers. “told you that, too. i thought about it, and i wanted to.” Both his eyebrows rise on his forehead and a smile touches his mouth. “besides, it could be worse. it’s harder to get lost in weird rhythms and shit when you’re always asking me stuff. ‘why does magic have a smell? how many people do you work with? what’s your additional job?’”

“i knew you kept me around for a reason,” Levi replies. His fingers feel stiff.

Eren leans his weight for less than a second against Levi’s shoulder. It’s hesitant, like the brush of fingers. “shut up.” A pause, and there’s the hint of magic, somewhere. Levi can smell it underneath the antiseptic. “i’m lucky to have you here.”

An echo of an echo. Leather seats and magic and formaldehyde.

And then Levi says, “do you have any other questions for me?”)

[vgtrackbracket]

Video Game Track Bracket Round 4

Mirror Temple (Mirror Magic Mix) from Celeste

vs.

Vagrant Counting Song of Retrospection from Kirby: Planet Robobot

Propaganda under the cut. If you want your propaganda reblogged and added to future polls, please tag it as propaganda or otherwise indicate this!

Mirror Temple (Mirror Magic Mix):

This is the song for Celeste's chapter 5 B-side. It's a remix (of Quiet and Falling) by 2 Mello

Vagrant Counting Song of Retrospection*:

this is a long one (~8 minutes) but my god is it so good. i don't even really know how to adequately explain the in-game context this song(s) play in, but it fits perfectly and i would argue this is the best final boss theme the kirby series has had (although i don't think i've really properly listened to forgotten land's one, so i might be biased). i don't really have anything else to say aside from "just listen for yourself" but if i was well educated in music theory and terminology you can bet your ass i'd be writing a full analysis rn

*[Mod note: The original video submitted was a combination of this track and Vagrant Keepsake of Oblivion, a variation on it. This was pointed out to me and the track name and video were updated, so the propaganda is not 100% accurate (specifically the reference to the track length).]

[vsplusonline]

The Sheesh Mahals of Rajasthan

New Post has been published on https://apzweb.com/the-sheesh-mahals-of-rajasthan/

The Sheesh Mahals of Rajasthan

New Delhi: Mirror-work has traditionally played a very important role in decor of all kinds and Rajasthan and Gujarat, can be credited with introducing the world to innovative methods of using mirrors.

The urge for decoration permeates all facets of life in Rajasthan and Gujarat and it was initially used to decorate homes. In fact, the mirror was first used as an embellishment on the exterior walls – embedded in mud walls these mirrors were usually small and circular in shape and the patterns in white chalk white around them huts very attractive.

This type of work can still be seen in remote villages in Gujarat and Rajasthan. Mirrors as wall décor was probably introduced by traders, arriving over land and sea, from Europe and Persia.

The use of mirrors in garments is now universally known, and designers of high fashion garments the world over have been experimenting with mirror work for the past decade.

However, the intricate mirror work used in decorating walls, such as the hall of mirrors or “Sheesh Mahal” at the Amber Fort in Jaipur, is less widely known. Awed by the ornate palaces in Rajasthan, I have often marveled at the mirror work that one sees covering the walls of palaces. These ‘Sheesh Mahal’s’ are seen at most of the famous palaces and havelis in Rajasthan. Some of the finest examples of this work can be seen on the ceilings, walls and columns of the palace at Samode, the Diwan-e-khas at Amber, the City Palace and Lake Palace at Udaipur, the Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur and the Junagarh Fort at Bikaner.

Traditionally, mirror work and “panni” work – which is the use of coloured foil to fill in or outline the

designs – were used together. The foil helps in giving each pattern a clear and well-defined outline,

and highlights the visual impact of the overall design. Stained glass windows in primary colours set in geometrical designs, in conjunction with mirror and panni work has been used extensively in the

interiors of fifteenth century forts, palaces and havelis” of Rajasthan.

The use of myriad mirrors began with the decoration and embellishment of temples. Mirror-workers involved in this craft for 6 generations, say that the purpose of multiple mirrors, was to

create endless images of the deities – showing that God was omnipresent.

To the commoner, the Maharaja was also considered if not at the level of God, but certainly as an exalted being whose royal visage deserved to be enhanced!

It is also likely that this folk art, seen and appreciated by-the feudal lords of Rajasthan, who decided

to decorate their palaces with a more highly developed and sophisticated version. In this, the Rajas and Maharajas found that walls covered in mirror work, multiplied the images of lamps – making the room brighter.

Vanity also played a large part in this, as the personage of the Maharaja was also multiplied! Hence throne rooms, halls of private and public audience and other special areas, were heavily decorated with mirror work, interspersed with moulded gilding and panni work.

Needless to say, the royal harems were also mirror bedecked, so that the monarch would be able to

see multiple images of his favourite queen. It is said that the use of large mirrors on garments by the

nomadic Rabari tribe of Rajasthan, also had its origin in the fact that the male wished to be reflected

in the garments of his beloved!

As expected in specialized creativity, mirror work is a highly intricate process that requires great skills

learnt from a young age. The craftsmen who are involved in this work are usually descendants of

families who have been in this trade for generations. In addition to skill, a great deal of patience and

perseverance is required, since a craftsman can only complete a tiny portion of the work in a day.

The mirrors used in this type of work, may be plain or coloured, and traditionally these were made in

Faizabad and Ahmedabad. Usually available in circular shapes of 30cm diameter, and 2-4 mm

thickness – a thicker gauge makes cutting difficult, while a thinner gauge makes them easily

breakable. Conclave mirrors reflected a larger spectrum of images and were used during Mughal

times.

The mirrors are placed on a base of lime plaster, watered for several days, and made rough to

prevent cracks. A special paste formed by mixing kali(baked lime) and surkhi (crushed burnt brick)

with water is applied before the relief work. The design is carved with a 20-23 cm long kalam which

has a pointed upper tip for carving, and a flat lower tip for scraping off undesired paste.

The mirrors are cut into the desired shape, and their edges softened with another 15 cm. “Kalam” with teeth-like edges. A 10 cm long “chimti” then comes into play, and the mirrors are painstakingly placed piece by piece to form the design.

Panni work is done with thin foil, available in many colours. The technique involves outlining the

floral designs on a glass surface, cutting it out with scissors, and then rubbing it with a hard stone (known as “hakkik ka pathar”) to create a concave surface. It is then placed on the outlined design, and attached with a special paste made out of a combination of baked clay, gum and water. The glass is framed in lime plaster with a slight gap between it and the wall.

The overall effect is not only three-dimensional, but also catches the light of the sun or a lamp, and reflects it with total clarity.

This is an elaborate and time-consuming art requiring great skill and precision. Combined with the expense involved, and changing styles, it has naturally resulted in considerable loss of patronage.

Today there are only about a handful of craftsmen in Rajasthan who have the knowledge of this technique. It is hoped that in time to come, patrons for this exquisite craft will come forward, to offer opportunities to recreate the magical world of mirrors. This decorative work was used on furniture, beds, stools and baby cribs or “jhulas” and in days gone by, was perhaps a comparatively inexpensive style of ornamentation.

For the few existing mirror- workers, their livelihood depends on the urban use of their craft. They normally live in groups, and whole families may work together, so that progress is faster. As in the case of all Indian crafts, the art of mirror-work is handed down from father to son, and training imparted on site.

(Shona Adhikari is a lifestyle and travel columnist)

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Vanilla Kiss: Clubland Eurodance 90s (2018) Mp3 

http://www.softlabirint.ru/music/popdance/28157-vanilla-kiss-clubland-eurodance-90s-2018-mp3.html

Девяностые года – время тёплой, милой некоммерческой музыки, когда особенно ценились красивые стихи и приятная мелодия. Именно тогда в радио эфирах и на танцполах появились самые популярные исполнители: Missing Heart, Bing Crosby, Blue System, Magic Affair и многие другие, о которых сейчас вспоминаем с ностальгической теплотой. Исполнитель: VA Название: Vanilla Kiss: Clubland Eurodance 90s Год выпуска: 2018 Страна: All world Жанр музыки: Club, Dance, Pop Формат | Качество: MP3 | 320 kbps + Image Продолжительность: 07:46:46 Композиций: 120 Размер: 1.08 Gb (+5% на восстановление) TrackList: 01. X-Session - Lucky Number 3:05 02. Dean Martin - Please Don't Talk About Me When I'm Gone 2:26 03. Missing Heart - Charlene 4:05 04. Music Instructor - Super Fly 3:44 05. Look Twice - Feel The Night 3:40 06. Bingoboys - Sugardaddy 3:49 07. Double You - Dancing With An Angel 3:47 08. Bizz Nizz - Dabadabiaboo 3:20 09. Jo Stafford & The Pied Pipers - On The Sunny Side Of The Street 2:58 10. Sin With Sebastian - Shut Up(And Sleep With Me) 3:44 11. Imperio - Quo Vadis 4:01 12. Bing Crosby & Fred Astaire - In The Cool, Cool, Cool Of The Evening 3:28 13. Dinah Washington - You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Loves You 2:47 14. Trey D - Higher & Higher 3:19 15. Bomfunk Mc's - Uprocking Beats 3:41 16. Dean Martin - On An Evening In Roma [Sott'er celo de Roma] 2:26 17. E-Type - So Dem A Com 3:31 18. Midi Maxi & Efti - Bad Bad Boys 3:24 19. Double You - Send Away The Rain 3:59 20. HAD - Spirit Of The Night 3:39 21. Yaki-Da - Just A Dream 3:21 22. Masterboy - Mister Feeling 4:29 23. Lou Bega - Mambo No.5 3:39 24. Blue System - Baby Believe Me 3:40 25. Ace Of Base - Never Gonna Say I'm Sorry 3:16 26. Tess - One Love 4:00 27. Magic Affair - The Rhythm Makes You Wanna Dance 5:39 28. Keenya - Waiting(For Your Love) 5:46 29. Sandra - Secret Land 3:21 30. Ahmex - Paparazzi(I Am Camera) 5:01 31. Kim Lukas - All I Really Want 3:46 32. D.I.P. - Give Me Your Lovin 3:46 33. Sandy - Bad Boy 3:50 34. JLM - Groovy Beat 3:49 35. No Mercy - Please Don't Go 4:02 36. T.Bull Feat.Nicky - You Don't Fuck Me 3:05 37. Dr.Alban - It's My Life(Remix) 4:38 38. Leila K. - Murderer 3:14 39. Cheyenne - The Money Man 3:56 40. Flash - You've Got The Music 4:00 41. Kim Sanders - Jealousy (Radio Mix) 3:56 42. Modern Talking - New York City Girl 3:29 43. Army Of Lovers - La Plage De Saint Tropez 3:32 44. Midi Maxi & Efti - Ragga Steady 3:20 45. Cool Cut - Please Let Me Know (Radio) 3:32 46. Odyssey - Riding On A Train 4:05 47. Nausikaa - Light My Fire 6:21 48. E-Rotic - Temple Of Love 3:18 49. The Sun Company - Looking For Love 5:16 50. Co.Ro - 4 Your Love 4:27 51. 20 Fingers Feat.Gillete - Mr.Personality 4:06 52. Aqua - Lollipop(Candyman) 3:36 53. Scatman John - Scatman's World 3:41 54. One DJ Project Feat.Dame - Gotta Dance 3:34 55. Night People - In The Night 5:22 56. Indra - We Belong Together 4:38 57. Me & My - Dub-I-Dub 3:23 58. Vengaboys - Boom,Boom,Boom,Boom 3:22 59. Das Modul - Robby Roboter (Radio Edit) 3:25 60. Fun Factory - Pain 4:53 61. Shaggy - Boombastic 4:07 62. E-Motion - So In Love With You 3:58 63. Singma - Prt. Foure 3:53 64. 3-O-Matic - Success 3:41 65. DJ Bobo - What About My Broken Heart 4:09 66. Basic Element - Leave It Behind 3:42 67. Jam & Spoon - Right In The Night(Fall In Love With Music) 3:47 68. Denine With Collage - Love Of A Lifetime 4:13 69. Ofenbach vs. Nick Waterhouse versus Felguk - Katchi (Sergey Kutsuev Mash) 3:56 70. Heath Hunter - Master & Servant 3:37 71. Outwork feat. Mr Gee - Elektro (Mike Temoff & Velchev Radio Remix) 3:28 72. TH Express - I'm On Your Side 3:54 73. Paris & Simo Ft. Karen Harding - Come As You Are (Bobby Love Remix) 6:49 74. Natascha Wright - Say You Think Of Me 5:40 75. Phuture Mafia, Hubba & Morse - Pumping (Original Mix) 3:33 76. G.E. Con-X-Ion Feat.Samira - Gotta Have The Music 3:56 77. Pump Gorilla, Voltech - By Your Side (Original Mix) 5:25 78. CB Milton - It's A Loving Thing 4:00 79. Rika Ft. The Highester - No Need (Zaio Remix) 3:13 80. 2Alive - Tell It To My Heart Tonight 3:38 81. Salif Keita & Martin Solveig - Madan (DJ Ramirez & Mike Temoff Remix) ( Radio Edit) 3:01 82. Upfront - Everything 3:22 83. Sash! feat. Tina Cousins - Mysterious Times (A-Mase Radio Mix) 3:25 84. Solid Base - Mirror,Mirror 3:21 85. 2 Brothers On The 4th Floor - Come Take My Hand(Cooly's Jungle Mix) 5:23 86. Activate - Let The Rhythm Take Control 3:33 87. The Weeknd ft. Daft Punk - Starboy (Get Better Remix) 3:43 88. Mr.President - Where The Sun Goes Down 3:25 89. Therr Maitz - My Love Is Like (DJ PitkiN Extended Mix) 4:08 90. Centory - Point Of No Return 4:25 91. Modjo - Lady(Hear Me Tonight) 3:45 92. Toni Braxton - Coping (Stadiumx Remix) 3:21 93. Disco Sluts - Let's All Chant 3:49 94. Vigiland - Another Shot (Charming Horses Remix) 3:39 95. Melodie MC - Give It Up!(For The Melodie) 4:16 96. WHOISJODY - Wall Of Sound (Club Mix) 4:10 97. Bass Bumpers - Good Fun 3:37 98. Woo2tech, Caio Monteiro - So Good (Original Mix) 5:06 99. Haddaway - Life 4:18 100. E-Motion - Open Your Mind 3:45 101. Yves V & Matt Hill Ft. Betsy Blue - Stay (Original Mix) 3:08 102. Backstreet Boys - Get Down 3:51 103. N-Trance - Do Ya Think I'm Sexy? 4:18 104. Black Spaghetti - Stress No More 3:53 105. Chic Desire - Say Say Say I'm Your Number 1 3:18 106. Franky Fonell - Never Forever 3:45 107. Diesel Action - Night In Motion 4:42 108. 2 Unlimited - No One 3:29 109. Dream Beat - Everybody Move 3:52 110. Five - When The Lights Go Out 4:11 111. Corona - Try Me Out 3:29 112. Black Spaghetti - Build Up My Mind 3:40 113. Culture Beat - Crying In The Rain 4:37 114. Fantomaxx - Be My Lover 2:58 115. 3 II One - Make Love 3:53 116. Molella - Love Lasts Forever 3:37 117. ATC - Why Oh Why 3:58 118. Major T - I Can Only Give You My Heart 3:58 119. Tiggy - Waiting 4:04 120. John The Whistler - I'm In Love 3:31 DOWNLOAD LINKS: Vanilla Kiss: Clubland Eurodance 90s (2018) Mp3

http://www.softlabirint.ru/music/popdance/28157-vanilla-kiss-clubland-eurodance-90s-2018-mp3.html

[vgtrackbracket]

Video Game Track Bracket Round 2

Rise and Shine, Ursine! from Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony

vs.

Mirror Temple (Mirror Magic Mix) from Celeste

Propaganda under the cut. If you want your propaganda reblogged and added to future polls, please tag it as propaganda or otherwise indicate this!

Rise and Shine, Ursine!:

Plays when the Monocubs first appear, it is a bop

Mirror Temple (Mirror Magic Mix):

This is the song for Celeste's chapter 5 B-side. It's a remix (of Quiet and Falling) by 2 Mello