#add a fucking sinusitis in the mix

[thegoblinwitch]

oh thank fuck. i had a meeting with my student support peep and they helped me get a special circumstances extension for the course i had already asked all the usual extensions. it means i can concentrate on actually getting over this fucking sinusitis, without stressing about how the hell i'll manage to write a 2500 words essay with this amount of fucking brain fog and general icky-ness.

#needless to say #i am relieved #being a student is fucking stressfull #being a disabled and 'mature' student is even more so #add a fucking sinusitis in the mix #and you find yourself in hell #by the gods i cannot wait for this semester to be over with #please kill me now #it would be a mercy killing at this point #kit's #diary

[kai-wanted-doa]

I caught the worse cold this past weekend super congested, runny nose, fat fucking headache, occasional sneezing, mild cough omg my bf took care of me. I was so congested i couldnt smell or taste anything. He coined me with tiger balm and I couldn't even smell the tiger balm until the very end and even then, it was super faint 😭😭😭 he went pretty light with the coining prolly cos he's scared to hurt me lmaoooo anyway his brother also tried to help my congestion and he brewed up some witchy stuff he made this mix of a bunch of herbs and spices that I took a shot of plus he made this herb and essential oil boil that I put my face over under a blanket that made shit just pour out of my face while he played witch music from the living room TV. At one point the peppermint oil had me gasping for air I had to lay down and catch my breath. I had a pile of used Kleenex and a sweaty head by the end of the session. My main concern was that we made really good food this weekend and all i wanted to do was to taste what we made, so they both tried to help make sure i could do just that by opening up my sinuses in any way they could. And it worked!!

As miserable as it was, i still enjoyed my time with them this weekend. Whenever I get a bad headache, I get up and exercise a lil. I got to do yoga w my bf and he danced with me while we watched newjeans' OMG dance practice. We even did the end part where the girls do their lil relay dance and posed one after another 🥺 of course my bf did his own kinds of poses 😒😒😒😒😂

We played that -who am i- game where each person draws a name from the pot and tapes it on their forehead without looking and they have to guess who it is. I put my bf's name in the pot and his brother ended up drawing it. His brother asked questions like, "am I attractive? Describe my physique. Am I fat, skinny, muscular? What is my sexuality? Am I in a relationship?" I was dying and laughing so hard. My bf is a modest guy, and to see him try to answer these questions about himself was entertainment. My best answer to add was "cum gutters" and my bf said "stfu you're leaking"

From time to time i get sad that I don't have any girl friends. But times like this make me realize that i shouldn't focus so much on having a certain gender of friends in my company to make me feel fulfilled. When I hang out with them like this, I do feel the fulfillment that I dream of.

My circle is very small, but I realize I am very lucky to be in their presence when they show up like this.

[thedevillionaire]

Surrender

So, I spend a fair bit of time in a supernatural soap opera world I made up. The background is crazy but I’m finally biting the bullet and posting a fic. You don’t have to know much about it for this one, though - he’s a Demon and the most powerful resident the Underworld has ever seen, she’s a Vampire, a little kink adjacent, interested in maybe learning a bit of magick. And they’re a mutually very devoted couple. I make an attempt at what they look like here . Also this one, which I posted here a while ago, sorry about repeats. Any questions, please ask! But anyway...

----

She loves watching him.

Sometimes too much, perhaps, since despite this demonstration being very specifically done for her benefit, she’s allowed herself to become lost in mellifluous cadence of rich velvet baritone and the dance of long, elegant fingers weaving accompanying airpatterns as illustration, a smooth and balletic fluidity of motion seeming almost at odds with that commanding, tall and broad-shouldered physique, the imposing force of presence, radiant authority that draws all eyes upon him everywhere he goes, and thusly she’s neglected to actually...well, comprehend anything. Again. And now he pauses, the small cluster of leaves he’s holding without touch hovering midair between them, and looks at her in expectation, encouragement. 

Am I supposed to say something now? Oh god, I’m supposed to say something now. Kia gazes up at Cerberus – and the leaves, the introductory Kinesis exercise he’s showing her the mechanics of – from her tree-stump seat in the woodland copse and wonders how she can reasonably ask him to repeat everything he’s just explained without having to admit that she didn’t pay proper attention because he’s so fucking stunning he’s practically cinematic. 

Although, she finds herself noting with interest, she…may not have to admit anything quite yet. A momentary frown and vague flicker of confusion crosses his face, the piercing intense focus in those famed eyes of emerald becoming hazy, falling away, and he inhales sharply, shakily, glances upwards and pauses in a completely different kind of expectation before inhaling sharply again, more deeply this time.

She loves watching him surrender.

Ah?

Huh. Not now, apparently, as breathy anticipation stalls and fades, eventually dissolving unfulfilled.

He wrinkles his nose, rubs it a few times, shakes his head in curt negation. “Sorry, love. *snf!* Thought I was going to sneeze.” 

Indeed. As if she needs to be told, and she smiles just a little, inclines her head in acknowledgement. Her gaze remains fixed on him as he takes another short pause, brief frown, twitch of the nostrils, then with a quiet Hm, another sniffle and a very slight shrug, he returns his attention to the original matter at hand. The leaves have remained in Kinetic hold throughout, and she’s not as surprised as she otherwise might be; she’s more than well aware that he’s exceptionally skilled. The best ever. This is nothing for him, no more than an effortless parlour trick. “Darkling?” he prompts, and she knows he’s referring to the question he’d asked her earlier that she hadn’t been paying the proper kind of attention to. Unfortunately, she has even less of an idea now than she did before, which she hadn’t really thought was possible but oh well here we are, and he definitely expects an answer – or at least he does for a moment, until she’s saved again by a returning and clearly more acute distraction. “Oh, one moment, I…” His brow creases and he turns aside from her in magnificent profile, a gods-forged angular precision entirely at the mercy of whatever stealth tormentor is apparently bothering him right now. “Hh-hh…” She loves watching him surrender because he does it so rarely but he does it so well, so absolutely, this man who submits to nothing, to nobody. Except, of course, to her…and except, perhaps, to this – this simple, common, insistent and equalising need, and she warms at the thought as her beloved, the all-powerful Demon king,  loses control. He inhales deeply, urgently, and altogether gives in to a bracing double, almost doubling over with the force of it, heavy and demanding. “Hhh-AHTSSCHHUU! ahh-HEHTSSCH-uu!” She catches the fleeting, almost startled look in his eyes as he glances across to her in apology, as if he’s surprised to find himself capable of such ferocious capitulation, as if he hadn’t been gearing up for precisely that outcome all those expectant moments before. A wet sniffle as he presses a firm hand beneath his nose to no avail, his breath staccato, and hitches into another mighty sneeze. “Huh…ah-HH�� AAHTSSCHHUU! Gods. *SNF!* Pardon me.” “Bless you,” she purrs.  Pushing a curtain of long, disarrayed ebony hair back from his face, he thanks her quickly, sniffles again, frowns and rubs his nose with purposeful determination. Annoyance now mixes with perplexity, and he pinches the bridge of his nose against the still-insistent irritation, blinking rapidly, and gives a brief, crisp shake of his head, as if by sheer willpower he can refute this, end this here and now. As if his focus wasn’t already unstoppably disintegrating anew. She loves watching him try to regain his composure. Oh, he’s not going to succeed – the helpless shift in his expression tells her clearly that this is a battle already lost…and once committed, he’s never been the type to do things by halves.  “Damn it, excuse m…” He manages to Create a handkerchief in a lucid micromoment, burying his face in it as he succumbs again. “Hhh… hh-TSSCHH-uu! Hh-TSSCHH-uu! Gods, I…I don’t know wh-hH… hh-HHAHTSSCCHU!” He groans heavily, almost a growl, sighs with frustration palpable, and offers her another apology, however unnecessary that may be.  Always the gentleman. A soft, private smile crosses her face as a craving heat suffuses her. “Bless you!” Her interest does not mean disregard for her love’s comfort, though. “Are you okay?” He gives her a quick nod, blows his nose and sniffles in tremulous, uncertain recovery awhile, steadying himself as best he can, before looking over at her through increasingly reddened and watery eyes. “Um, if you…” His breath, still erratic, catches in encore, and he crushes the back of his hand against his nose in steely denial, sniffles hard. “If you… *SNF!* If you don’t mind, though, perhaps a… ah… Hh-hh… Ohgodswhatthe…”  His hard-fought-for composure crumbles in seconds. “Ahh-TSCHH-uu! *SNFF!*” Another series of sniffles follow; he exhales heavily, wipes his eyes, and turns from her to once more blow his nose. “Goddamn it,” he mutters. “Pardon me…again.” He pushes his hair back from his face and clears his throat, and the insistent itch actually seems to back off a little, giving him a moment of respite, though he’s not at all confident about how much longer his fortune will hold. He suspects – much to his wary displeasure – that the likely answer is not very, and he presses his fingers against still-rebellious sinuses, attempts to reclaim a little dignity. “Perhaps a change of venue?”  “Ah.” She takes a cursory glance around the copse and its variety of trees, shrubbery and wildflowers, nods sagely. “Maybe somewhere a little more…private?” she says, suggestive sensual, then adds with a quiet chuckle, “I was going to have to ask you to start over anyway.” He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Did I…” He sniffles softly; she notes his momentary frown and accompanying flare of his nostrils, and the vexed waver in his expression as he rubs his nose again. “Did I not…” A sharp intake of breath, and she pauses, attention fixed – oh, again? – on what is plainly inevitable, no matter how much he may wish it otherwise. And this time he is clearly out of patience, rolling his eyes in exasperation and inhaling deeply moments before any remaining focus he has dissolves, and he comprehensively gives himself over, sneezing again, emphatic, unstoppable. “Ah-HEHTSSHHUU! Fuck! *snf!*” Resentfulness now shines brightfurious in irritated, teary viridian as he meets her gaze from beneath strands of newly dishevelled midnight; by the look in his eye he’s one step from incinerating this entire damn woodland just to teach it a damn lesson, and she thinks that although he…probably won’t, that perhaps she should redirect his attention just in case. Besides, she muses, as his breath quavers and he sniffles again, it happens that she very much wants to…needs to get out of here too.  She loves watching him, but sometimes…ohgod, sometimes watching is simply not enough. “Bless you, sweetheart,” she murmurs as she moves to him, internally burning, and wraps her arms around his waist. “Feel free to get us out of here whenever you like.” Standing on tiptoe, she now reaches up to weave one hand through his hair, pulling him nearer, silencing his apology with a finger to his lips, and soothes him with boudoir whisper, “Shh, it’s alright. Sometimes we’re all…just a bit at the mercy…” She kisses him hungrily, urgently, and abandons speech for heat-suffused Mindsend –  :of forces beyond our control.: 

#snzfic #snz fic #my OCs #my writing #cerberus #supernatural soap opera #cerberus and kia #sneeze fic

[hwanggeum-ashi]

jk smut pleaseee, daddy kink 😍

PAIRING : Jungkook x reader

GENRE : smut

WORD COUNT:666 (wow even my fic knows that daddy jk is the devil 👿)

WARNINGS: choking kink, voyeurism idk just kook being an asshole and nearly killing you

A/N: this is probably not what you wanted and I sucked highkey at fulfilling your request. Please forgive me 😭 I hope you still like it tho❤️

Dressed in a black turtleneck top, that accentuated your breasts and denim bell bottom jeans, your hair set like the 90s, you looked ravishing under the neon pink lights of the club.

And Jeon Jungkook wanted to do nothing but ruin you tonight.

He walked up to you with long beautiful strides. The musky scent of his filled up your mind, tingling your sinuses. He too was clad in denims that ripped at his knees and a white shirt underneath a white jacket. A bandana was wrapped around his head, highlighting his forehead.

There was lust written clearly in your eyes, a thick tension between you both. You'd take a step forward, but you knew it was a dangerous territory. You don't mess with the likes of him. You had boundaries when it came to him.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had completely infiltrated yours. The siren blared in your head as he took a few steps to fully deprive you of your personal space.

"don't stand there looking so pretty and fuckable, if you aren't gonna take care of my problems"

It's not like you hadn't noticed the enormous bulge, but more like you wanted to just get your revenge. If he could leave you high and dry for a week, you could so totally give him blue balls for a month. So you stayed silent.

"so you're not even gonna talk huh?" you rolled your eyes at him. "You know I don't like my girl when she's being a brat. You know what happens- his voice dropped down an octave lower, making it more deeper than it already was -"when you make daddy angry."

You opened your mouth to finally speak but Jungkook 's hand encircled around your neck, pulling taut and capturing your lips with his.

His hand tightened around your neck, cutting off your bloodstream and oxygen supply. His tongue roamed inside your mouth, eliciting croaked up moans from you.

Your eyes rolled, when he sucked at your tongue. Your hands quickly came up to his, begging to loosen his hold on you. He let go of your lips with a wet pop "Disobedient girls don't get what they want"

"P-please.." your eyes watered at the loss of oxygen, a few tears spilled. Your lips were lush and full, cheeks flushed. You were completely at mercy in his hands.

"please what?"

"p-please daddy.."

His tongue dived back into your hot mouth, swirling his tongue, kissing you deeply. Your hands fisted at his jacket weakly as you felt your brain shutting down.

His free hand travelled down to your core, tracing soft circles. You keened at the touch. You felt him popping open your button and pulling your zipper down. His hand dived into your hot pussy instantly.

You sucked in a strangled breath. Jungkook's hold on your neck tightened, just the right amount for pleasure. His middle finger ran up and down your folds, ring finger poking at your entrance.

You whimpered and rocked your hips forward to earn some friction. This single action caused Jungkook to pinch your clit. You screamed out. He put on three fingers easily and pumped them slowly.

You felt full. Squelching noises mixed with rock music in the background. You were so wet, so slick, Jungkook's fingers just slipped in and out. He used his fingernail to add more stimulation to your clit and your vision flooded with white.

Your legs shook as you gasped for air. Your chest heaved, eyes half closed. You looked wrecked. Tears had now fully stained your face. You tugged at his jacket, as one last attempt to breathe.

Satisfied with your fucked out self, Jungkook let go of you softly and you coughed as the blood rushed back to your head and lungs.

You looked up at him, ready to burst out but he placed his lips softly on your neck, where the red marks were already forming. He murmured against your ear-

"Don't disobey daddy like that again baby."

#Jungkook x reader #jungkook #Jungkook #jungkook scenarios #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #Daddy jungkook #Jeon Jungkook #Bts #Bts imagines #Jungkook drabble #Jungkook fics #Jungkook fic recs #Taehyung #Jimin #Namjoon #Hoseok #Jin #Yoongi #Jungkook fluff #Jungkook angst #Bangtanarmynet

[glitterinmotion]

Bath Magic, a masterpost

Having a bath is a good way to relax and enjoy time for yourself, it also could be used as a part of your magic practice.

Before you go: 

If you have allergies please check ingredients before to make your bath. Before to read anything else takes attention to this. 

*clean your bathtub @thesubtlewitch

*safety advisement @notyourmothersspellbook

*after the bath @am-i-boob-level-yet

Beginner tips: 

How to make a sachet? How to use this pink himalayan salt? Can i use this freaking amazing bath bomb ? Well, there are some links to begin your practice and know a little bit more about bath magic.

*basic components @casual--witchcraft

*bath magic references @bitch-witch-aint-no-snitch

*general guide @aphroditiful

*how to: magic oil @speaksofsomethingthatisgone

*how to use fermented rice water @thymewitch

*how to make a sachet @swampseer

*witch tips: herbs @elsaswitchystuff

*about seashells @mothermoonie

*bath bomb magick @sylvaetria

*bath magick guide @la-petitefille

*purrification with bath @thehexcollector

*to begin @recreationalwitchcraft

*pure water :  think about it : as @orriculum said you don’t need any of these, you are the ingredient

Beauty bath spell:  

*milk bath to hydrate and purrify your skin @eyeofhorustarot

*rose bath spell bath @orriculum 

*beauty bath @bibliotecha-secreta

*cinnamon dolce latte grounding scrub @hereticalapothecary

*soft skin, soft soul bath ritual @lunar-witches

*mermaid’s bath spell : a glamourous spell @themanicnami

*i’m majestic @orzula

*cuteness and radiance spell inspired by Sailor Mini Moon @themanicnami

According to the moon phases: 

*full moon @scorpiomoonchildd / another full moon bath @aventurineforest

*new moon @magicgemflower / new moon herbal bath @honeycoyote

*moon phases scrub recipe @hekserie

According to sabbats: 

*yule bath spell @catspawwitchery / yule bath @i-am-the-nature-witch / yule inspiration bath @witchingmama / another yule bath spell @wanderlustandmagik

*litha mid summer bath @iolitewitchcraft

*imbolc ritual bath @recreationalwitchcraft / imbolc lushcraft @lepuslunamgrimoire

*mabon bath @recreationalwitchcraft

*ostara bath ritual @mrs-k-cottage-witch / lush products correspondances @recreationalwitchcraft / restoring and cleaning ostara bath mixing fruit,spice and bath bomb @lepuslunamgrimoire

*samhain bath salt @theofficialbabadook / lush products correspondances for samhain @recreationalwitchcraft

Connecting to

This part it inspired by this Witch Bath Masterpost (amazing and very useful post), i just added more links to complete it. About deities, a lot of spirits, gods and goddesses are related to water so check out your deities correspondences to create your own ritual.

*elements: earth @healing-sun-witch /  fire bath @lepuslunamgrimoire/  air bath @lepuslunamgrimoire

*ice witch @aphroditiful

*sun bath @cosmicrystalwitch

*sea witch-tropical bath @sassandspells / another sea witch bath @recreationalwitchcraft / connecting to the ocean @themixedwitcharchive

*Aphrodite simple bath spell @wistfulgiselle / Aphrodite sugar scrub spell @crybambi-posts

*Freya bath salt @thewitchofthenorse

*faerie bath spell @moonbugpresence

*dragons @recreationalwitchcraft

*celestial bath @orriculum

*deities of olympus as lush products @leosorciere

About self love: 

*self love bath @recreationalwitchcraft

*peace/love @viridisherbalist

*post depressing @prettycitywitch

*love protection bath spell @needtobeawitchingslug

*self love bath sachet @spooniewitches

*love yourself @kristalliserade

*divine self love spell @foxseidr

Relaxing and healing bath spell

*peace of mind bath salt @themanicnami

*simple relaxing bath @magicalmystic

*zelda inspire bath spell -healing and purrify @hylianshrinemaiden

*bedtime bath and clear sinuses bath @the-domestic-witch

*stress relief bath spell @gensgrimoire / another stress reliever bath @jennycalabro

*gross bath spell @thequeenofsunflowers

*simple healing bath @witchymashedpotatoes

*grommot’s nasty bath to release bad energies and be dirty again @grommot

*”grow from the dirt” bath spell @mermanwitch

*bath me the fuck better spell : release bad energy @ghostlywitvh

*simple purification scrub @recreationalwitchcraft

Others bath spell:

*bring luck @mothmaam

*warm my bones @under-the-lilies

*attracting love bath soak @recreationalwitchcraft

*help ease menstrual cramps @herbsandcrystals 

*stomach bug @stormbornwitch

*break the habit bath @lepuslunamgrimoire

*prosperity bath spell @rosemarysea

*banishment bath love and memories @nightkunoichi

*hex removing @annabellehectorworldofweird

Rituals for 2 and more 

*couple’s bath spell (love and lust) @themanicnami

*aphrodisiac bath @lepuslunamgrimoire

* love spell for saphic witches… @lesbiandaydream

Protection’s bath

There is an Ultimate Masterpost about Protection Magic @serenas-book-of-shadows very complete, with an entire part about bath magic. I just re-noted a few one and others i found on Tumblr.

*armor of love : getting protected with the love of others @honeycoyote

*master protector body scrub @oldmotherredcap

*simple purrification and protection scrub @recreationalwitchcraft

Make up your day !

*today will be a good day @themanicnami

*stay focus @stormbornwitch

*motivation and clarity @orriculum

*happiness bath @primrosetheodora

*widsom and intelligence @starwwitch

*confidence bath spell and boost for work @aphroditiful

*job interview confidence bath @lepuslunamgrimoire

*soak in positivity @witchbrise

Magic energies

*increase psychic abilities soak @unfriendlyblackwitch

*relax and meditate herbal steams recipe @quartzbound

*energy cleaning @hereticalapothecary

*disenchanting bath spell @kitchenwitch

*banishing bath bomb recipe @she-who-treads-on-water

*new year purification bath @wishfulwitchy / welcoming positivity into the new year @wood-fires-archive

*pre-ritual spell bath @wicccaa

With sigils: 

For anyone who works with sigils, here a few ones to draw on your soap, bathbomb, yourself or water. You can find others sigils and awesome advices for beginning your practice with this post about sigil bath @themanicnami. Obviously this is not an exhaustive list, and you can create one by yourself depend on your needs.

*i’m cleansed and relaxed @will-o-the-witch

*i’m clean and purified @onesigiladay

*beauty radiates from me @sigilathenaeum

*negative energy leaves my heart @starborn-witch /  negative energy leaves my body @softlydivine

*i’m calm @strangesigils / i’m at peace @thesilverwitch

*i’m happy, i’m calm and i’m motivated @strangesigils

*self care @puella-terrae

*self love @artwitchpath / another self love sigil @eclogarium

*sospidonum @inkandsigils

*i’m connected to the element of water @onesigiladay

Correspondances:

A lot of plants can be part of a bath ritual so as always check out your deities correspondences to make your own. Anyway, you can also use bath bomb to prepare an affordable bath.

*lush bath bombs @wanderingbabybat / lush bath magick @will-o-the-witch

*energetic cleanse correspondances for bath @studiostarshine

*bath magic combinations @lesbiandaydream

*protection correspondences @dark-witch-dark-night

*love correspondences @lushywitch

*glamour spell masterpost @sylvaetria

*essential oil blends for witches @suicidalrestraints

*common kitchen herbs @sneezeweeds

*magickal time @thewitchtips

05/2020 edit : recently add more links but still working on it

Thanks to contributors! And if you don’t agree to this use, tell me and i will removed you of the post. 

#masterpost #editing #bath magic #ritual #grimoire #book of shadows #witch tips #bath #bathtime #waterwitchcraft #urban witch #bath magic masterpost

[xsvervn]

𝕷𝖔𝖔𝖐𝖘 𝕽𝖊𝖉, 𝕿𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖘 𝕭𝖑𝖚𝖊 {{𝕾𝖊𝖑𝖋-𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖆}}

ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱ, ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʙᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴀꜱ ᴅᴇᴘɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴇ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛꜱ, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ, ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ʜᴀʀᴍ, ᴠᴏᴍɪᴛɪɴɢ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜɪʟʟ 80 ᴘᴇʀᴄᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ. ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴɪɴɢ.ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀꜱ ꜱʜɪᴛ, ꜱᴏ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. uwu n all that.  

That was a memory that would stick with them for the rest of their lives, they decided. It burned from the inside out, and like a fire that took out entire cities, it tore through the twenty-year-old. 

Saeran Kim writhed on the cold, hard ground, nails clawing at their pale skin as they let out gasps from the pain that crippled them. 

This was not what they had expected death to be like. 

When they had jumped, the water below was supposed to take them. But somehow, by some force unknown, their eyes had opened and their back arched, agony once again taking over. How were they alive? 

They could only briefly ponder this as thoughts were dragged back by the throbbing in their skull; Every sound seemed so painfully amplified, every smell sharp in their nose to the point they were worried about bleeding, even their skin prickled in a way that felt far too sensitive. And though their clothes were sopping wet, even though it was late into autumn and the weather bordered on freezing, Saeran only felt a small chill despite the sensitivity that their skin claimed. 

What the fuck was happening? 

A smell that had lingered in their sinuses brought them all but crawling to their feet, however. Nails that they’d only just gotten done the week before digging in the cold dirt. They felt separate to themselves as they shifted through the brush beneath the bridge where they had made an attempt on their own life. Saeran wondered how they had lived through it, how they had not drowned. They remembered the way that water had choked them. Had burned their eyes, throat, and nose. They had felt scorched by the cold, but now they could only wrap their mind around the scent. Things seemed to become a haze from that point, thoughts running off into forgotten fragments as they grew closer and closer. The burn still present, they could feel it in their veins. In their chest. Their mouth ached and it shot through their skull in a way that would have left them doubling over once again had they been less dedicated to this search. 

They didn’t understand why they wanted to find it, but they couldn’t seem to think about anything else. 

It wasn’t long until the drenched twenty year old, hair dyed a bright mint tone, skin flushed white with cold, eyes shining brightly with a tone that suggested redness, and posture rigid, came upon a family. 

They couldn’t tell you what they looked like, how many members there had been, or even what they had done. Saeran just found the satisfaction in the tearing of skin beneath their teeth. The feeling had been…

Better than anything. It wasn’t easy to describe, it was better than pills or really any drug that they’d found. It was a high that lasted much longer. It soothed their aches, it warmed their flesh and by the time they’d finished with them, beneath bright stains of red, hues of pink flushed their skin. Saeran woke up much later. How much later they couldn’t tell you. Had it been moments? Hours? Days? Weeks? They were dirty, confused, and just generally uncertain as to where they even were. Memories flashed through their mind, but it had to just be a really fucked up dream -- the blood, the trail of bodies. That wasn’t real. 

And for a while, Saeran had let themselves believe that. 

They’d made their way home, looking haggard as dyed locks clumped together and dirt and mud clung to their black attire. Eyes skirted over Saeran-- maybe they were just trying a whole gutter grunge aesthetic? 

Upon arriving back in their apartment (their own keys and phone not being on their person leaving them to struggle to get the spare from the top of their door frame) They wondered if a fake rock would look strange beside their door, would it fool the other tenants? Though, Saeran didn’t doubt that the woman who lived across the hall would just invite herself in if the key were within her spindly reach. She always seemed to know when Saeran was low on food, though, and came bearing freshly cooked meals as if she’d prepared them specifically for the young adult across the hall. They couldn’t really find a complaint in having free food, but the prospect of having an older woman digging through their things and cleaning in their apartment as they’d found her doing not long after they’d moved in, made them a little anxious. Especially considering how messy they were. 

The moment the door opened they were greeted with the agitated meows of their black cat who didn’t hesitate to loop herself around their ankles. Saeran knew right away that she was hungry, the sounds she made were indication enough, but when her teeth sunk into their ankle -- a bite that was much rougher than they were used to-- they jerked away and quickly went to the food bowl to take care of their pet. 

It didn’t take them long to realize that they’d been gone for some time, the texts from Hoseok being excessive. The state their home was in after leaving a cat unattended. They had messaged their friend to come and care for the animal, a short apology following quickly behind in the message, but it’d never sent. Saeran guessed they were thankful for that. 

Another failed attempt to add to their ever-growing emo jot list. 

Their thumb trailed along a particularly thick scar on their inner wrist as this thought crossed. 

A sigh. 

As the weeks passed, Saeran began to fall back into their regular routine: they’d go to class first thing, they’d stop by Hoseok’s about halfway through their day to play games, and then they’d go home and try to work on their art commissions that had fallen behind while they were out doing… whatever. 

It was worrying, though. Their body told them time and time again that they were hungry, and they’d order a pizza, maybe a veggie burger, and time and time again they’d find themselves gripping a toilet bowl later that night, the contents of their stomach splashed against the porcelain. This had gone on for two weeks, and it was making them anxious. What had they really been doing in all that time? 

As they lay awake in bed at night (Their body far too jittery to sleep, and when they did manage to sleep it was so light that they never felt like they had actually slept) they would replay these dreams. The images always a dark red, always grotesque in nature, and always involving screams and death. And for some reason they always caused a sharp pang of hunger to lurch through their stomach. 

Ir wasn’t until some days later when they’d found their teeth buried into the throat of a boy from one of their morning classes at the community college after having attended a special lecture that night, that they realized the truth behind these ‘dreams’. 

They forced themselves away, but the damage had been done. As they rested on their knees on the cutting asphalt in the dark parking lot, the boy grew cold in their arms. Saeran, however, stayed frozen in their spot, the cover of a few parked cars hiding them and their crimes from any eyes that would have slid in their direction. 

What were they doing? 

What was wrong with them? 

They’d killed someone. 

The moment they felt circulation return to their body they clamoured up, allowing the body to rest between cars, and managed to get themselves into the nearby woods before collapsing to skinned knees and pressing fingers to the back of their throat, attempting to force the remnants of that boy-- Trey, his name had been Trey--- from their body. It was no use, though, as only blood darkened bile splashed against the dampened, dead leaves. 

They found themselves shaking hard, nails raking through their hair as the realization set in and tears blinded them. Those too seemed to be red.

They had no idea how long they had been in those woods, face streaked a dark red from tears that came forward in crimson streams, mixing with their heavy liner.  But as the sun rose above the trees, causing their skin to prickle and sting beneath rays that managed to skirt their skin, there was denying their truth. 

They were not the person that they had been before they had jumped off that bridge. 

Incidents like this continued to happen, though. They would fight urges, they would do everything within their power to keep this away from others. There was a constant nagging in their head, almost a voice, urging them to give in. To cave into the way that their body seemed to thrive off of stealing the life from those who lived while at only 20, they were a walking corpse Hoseok was avoided at all costs. Their classes were dropped. As the investigations ran cold, more bodies seemed to do the same in Saeran’s wake.  No matter how hard they fought it, they found themselves pressing bodies to walls in allies under the pretense of a hookup, to bleed them dry and leave them where they fell. Honestly, the young vampire found themselves getting off just fine from their meals alone. 

Maybe that was the draw, though. The euphoric feeling that washed over them, the moans that they would find themselves emitting as they fed, and the comedown that always, always felt way too good for them to quit it. 

The human nature in them screamed, it cried, it begged them to stop every time they did this. It wasn’t right. It was murder, and they committed it repeatedly and without hesitation time and time again. Guilt would haunt them in the late hours of the night and they would find themselves laid in an empty bath, trembling, tears coming and staining the tile the same colour that they loathed but also desperately wanted. They would use the games that they used to casually play as an escape, often forgetting where they were for days on end as nothing seemed to matter more than the quests at hand. And then the cycle repeated. 

The syndicate had become their home, however. 

It wasn't hard for them to go through with the ‘initiation’ as they had perfected swift, merciless killings very early on in their time as a vampire. What else could they have been, after all? Killing someone came naturally, and the instant gratification that came with it made it all worth the effort. 

Saeran had decided that they were a monster. 

It wasn’t a difficult distinction for them. When they were alone in a room with Hoseok one night, piled under blankets because their skin never seemed to warm, downing sodas and playing games together, Saeran had become far to aware of the pulse that thrummed where their thighs touched. 

Their eyes would scan his profile and they would find themselves increasingly interested in the artery that pulsed just beneath the skin on his throat, one that they had grown so accustomed to sinking sharpened fangs into. It had taken that moment alone for them to realize that they were not anything more than that. A monster who took life from others because they could never, truly, be alive again. 

-

The day that Saeran found out that they had been discovered was long. 

Likely one of the longest in days that seemed to span years in their generally sleepless exitance. They had reread the texts, exhaustion setting in as another week of downing coconut water to curb the desires the kill that they were so rife with. At least ten kills was the understatement of the century. Saeran had stopped counting. At one point they had even gone after a cat because humans were too difficult to come by. 

They had read on some edgy tumblr blog for teens wanting to imitate vampires that there were a few drinks one could try that emulated the way that blood would curve along ones tongue as it filled their mouth. Chia seeds had been a mistake. Orange juice wasn’t close at all. The only thing that seemed to trick their senses really did seem to be this stupid water. they hadn’t even liked coconuts when they were alive. But, fully dressed they sat in their bath, sipping a mix of that and vodka out of a bottle, water filling the bath as they laid back, taking in the reality that they were living. 

Saeran had never let themselves think about what they had done after the first time. They had never taken into account that they were human people after that. They couldn’t bring themselves to do it. At 21 they had killed enough people to feel entirely numb to the concept. Though they longed for it themselves, they could never seem to find it, but they brought it to others on a nearly nightly basis. 

Then there were the times with him where it was an aphrodisiac of shorts. The first time they’d slept together had been prompted by the murder of an innocent person in the man's apartment, the blood hadn’t been a meal, but wasted as the two tumbled to the floor, blood having covered Saeran’s hands after they’d taken the persons life. They had slept together that night on that floor. 

Saeran couldn’t seem to get that out of their head. Was that really what they were? Was that really them? 

Was this name that was still freshly branded into their chest by a man who they had trusted really someone they had laid with so many times? 

It all seemed so far away from them, so unreal. Like they had just read it in a book and the blurred lines of imagination only allowed fragmented pictures to appear in their mind, to dance behind their lids as texts from Titan were ignored. Their cellphone had tumbled to the floor as their fingers went lax, the tub filling slowly around their petite form. He had been the one to tell them what had been found. He had been the one to let them know that their name had been brought up. That their crimes and the admissions that they had blurted to Hoseok in a fit of text messaged verbal vomit were all known. That they weren’t safe in their own apartment. 

As they became increasingly drowsy from a mixture of intoxication, starvation, and the warmth of their bath, the water finally rose over their features, submerging the vampire as they dozed. 

There were a few moments of silence in the room, save for the constant pinging of the device that had taken residence on the floor and the faucet, before they took a breath. 

In their stupor, they had not realized that the water had risen so high, so when they returned to their general state of being they found themselves taking in water, they could feel it filling lungs that had very little purpose in the chest of a preternatural being who only breathed out of habit. It felt as though they were being burned, much like the night that they had turned. 

They shot up from their position, coughing heavily as they leaned over the side of the tub, water expelling passed pouty lips as they felt themselves still somehow drowning within their own body. 

“Fuck,” Saeran mumbled, throat raw and voice like gravel when they did finally catch their breath. These realities had left them feeling sick to their stomach, and the recent incident with nearly drowning -- would that have killed them? They doubted it-- just frustrated them. They would need to leave, they knew. 

They couldn’t just wait here for the heroes to find them. 

They couldn’t run the risk of killing Salem out of hunger. 

-

Salem had been cradled in their arms, fingers stroking over her ears affectionately as they made the choice to give her to Hoseok. 

They had phrased it as cat sitting because somehow it even fooled Saeran for a moment into thinking that they would be able to come back to all of this-- to nights in next to their coconut headed best friend, veggie burgers and pizza, cuddling with their cat in their bed and having a single nights sleep that didn’t span days inside of a box that Maxxie of all people had given them. A despite their edgy appearance, Saeran didn’t enjoy sleeping in a casket. They didn’t enjoy the solitary nights. Salem couldn't sleep with them so they would need to make up for that by laying in bed with her after waking up. They missed normal things. They missed being alive. But Saeran Kim had never been one to think things through. They never considered anything. 

Leaving his cat to Hoseok’s had been hard. They wanted to cry. They wanted to curl against their friend's chest and just let it out, but instead, they put on a brave face. 

Saeran didn’t have a family. They didn’t have friends. They had Hoseok and Salem. And no matter what they chose in this instance they had to leave that. 

Did they turn themselves in and hope that the league was merciful? That they were different than the Doves? Could they even trust that? Or did they hide in HQ and hope that they were safe? 

Saeran admitted their guilt, god did they drown in it,  but did it mean that they deserved to be locked away from everyone and everything? 

They were dangerous. 

They were unpredictable. 

And despite it all, Saeran didn’t want to go. 

They didn’t want to be held accountable, they didn’t want to pay for crimes that were committed in a fit of vampire desperation. They just wanted to sleep. 

There wasn’t much that genuinely frightened someone who couldn’t die. At that point, death sounded so welcoming. But not being in control of the situation and not knowing? that was scary. That was terrifying. 

#alright this is about to be a big wall of tw #but b4 that i wanna say that this is 3k words long so srry #c #selfpara; #tw:murder #tw: death #tw: vomit #tw: alcohol #tw: gore #tw: blood #tw: self harm #tw: suicide #tw: drowning #tw: violence #tw: mental illness

[xylune]

Difference between the royal finger and the peasant finger

See, the peasant finger suggests adjusting and adapting to this terrible climate. The royal finger, however, insists otherwise when I give the fuck-off with it.

“Fuck that; make the climate adjust to us.”

So here I stand as the middle finger between the peasants and the royals, trying not to die, and I think to myself: “Hmm, I bet peppermint oil properly diluted in a spray bottle would do a heap of good to control my burning body temps.”

So I did it! I found a temporary solution to living in hell! I mixed a blend of distilled water, alcohol and a few drops of mint oil into a sprayer. Saturated the shit out of my cooling shawl with it. It’s working! I can breathe! I just hate the thought of having to live with a wet head and a wet shawl over my shoulders to keep from passing out during the days.

But...it works! For anyone remotely interested that follows me, if you’re fighting heat exhaustion and/or crappy AC, a blend of peppermint, distilled water and alcohol (or vinegar. Essential oils don’t just blend with water so you need something to bind) in a spray bottle really helps to cool the skin. Alternative oils would be vetiver, lemon and thyme.

Also Eucalyptus works, but I’m doing this to just stay cool and already have eaucalyptus going with my rosemary and cedar in the diffuser. For sinuses, definitely stick to peppermint, eucalyptus, spearmint, rosemary, tea tree. The tea trea is a natural antifungal oil and blends well with most other essentials. Helps with mold, so even if you only add two drops to your blend, you’re doing yourself some favors.

Always use tea tree if in a humid climate, man. Unless you’re allergic or just looking for a specific smell, don’t skimp on the tea tree oil. Just my advice. But then, I’m living in fungus land USA.

#Personal #I don't know what I'm thinking #I put too much thought into this #essential oils #sinus suffering #relaxation

[amphetameme-queen-blog]

If you slip up...

Here’s my master list of how to take care of yourself after a b/p, stay strong my lovelies!

1. Physical Damage Control

Teeth -

It's usually a warning sign to have bad teeth as someone less than seventy years old. It's a 'classic' symptom of bulimia and I've heard a lot of (rookies) swear by brushing their teeth. DON'T FUCKIN DO IT MAN. I used to b/p anywhere between three to ten times a day at my worst, but I always kept a handy supply of TUMS or antacids on me. Your teeth become weakened when you b/p in the first place, so the abrasiveness of toothbrush bristles tends to wear down on your enamel. I never brushed my teeth after I would purge, and I've been b/p'ing on and off for about four years now. Like I said - ten times a day at the worst. I went to the dentist last month and they said that my teeth were like, perfect. It was actually shocking. Thank god for chemistry I suppose.

So how does it work? Well, the calcium carbonate (the main ingredient of TUMS) neutralizes the hydrochloric acid (stomach acid) on our teeth like it would in our stomach. It's basically a high school chemistry equation.

CaCO3+ HCl -> CaCl2 + CO2 + H2O.

The symptoms you'll get (after an antacid) is basically just burping up the CO2 lol. It's much more preferable to tooth decay, might I say. OH and if you don't have any antacids on you, baking soda works in the same way. Just put a teaspoon of baking soda into water, swish it around your mouth, and spit it out. It doesn't taste great, but you could probably mix it with a little alcohol-free toothpaste so it tastes more minty. I highly recommend against swallowing baking soda because it will most likely irritate your stomach and make you even more nauseous, and not in an emetic way. (Ana butterflies don't get any stupid ideas it's not gonna work like you think). Swallowing baking soda just makes you kind of uncomfortable, really.

Y'all need to floss too. I sound like I've got a major stick up my ass, because who actually flosses flossing is for old people and l0zers fuck that shit. Nope. Flossing once before you go to bed helps your teeth against yellowing, in my experience. I wouldn’t recommend flossing post-purge as your gums tend to be much more sensitive. ‘Cuz who’s trynna get gingivitis yeah no one.

Sinuses -

​Remember that time you (regrettably) b/p’d on rice? And you felt that rice grain up there and took a napkin and blew fuckin snot rice into your napkin, like the sexy beast you are?

Yeah I remember that too.

It’s pretty apparent that stomach acid anywhere besides your stomach is a recipe for havoc. The stomach acid eats away at the mucous membranes in your nose, leading to constant sniffling, loss of smell, and chronic sinus infections. Even if you don't feel irritation in your nose immediately following a b/p, the acid can still lead to damage.

So how do you remedy this?

From my experience, the Neti-Pot saline rinse is the best bet. You can use the one that looks like a tea kettle or the one that's a squeezy bottle - both do the same thing. I have the squeezy bottle and it's really simple to use. You add water up to the fill line

And then you pour the saline packet into the bottle and mix thoroughly (just shake the bottle). Be sure to use FILTERED DRINKING WATER because tap water often contains heavy metals like copper or iron, which isn't good for your nose. Then put the plastic bottle with the saline-water solution into the microwave for approximately 35 seconds, and be careful to make sure it isn't too hot. Make sure it's just slightly warm and then screw the cap on tightly. Lean over a sink and gently squeeze the bottle into one nostril until the water comes out the other. Don't worry, it doesn't provoke the dreaded “oh god there's water in my nose I feel like I'm drowning” feeling. Your sinuses are connected and because the water is warm (like body temperature) it won't come as a shock to your body. Repeat the process on both nostrils until the bottle is done.

I've had actual chunks of food come out of my nose before, and I'm like, “shit, that would have just been hangin out in my nose the entire time?” So it's really important for preventing sinus infections or acid damage to the nasal cavity.

​Electrolyte Imbalances -

​If I had a dollar for the amount of times I've seen THAT PICTURE of the dead bulimic girl I would be richer than Donald Trump. Yeah, she died from gastric rupture blah blah blah but I always see blogs referencing that picture with the danger of heart failure and death in bulimics.

Despite how frequently I used to purge, I'm not dead yet! Hurray I guess! I used to get serious heart palpitations after a long day of purging, but I could mitigate some of those side effects with proper hydration and electrolyte drinks.

I ain't talkin no purple Gatorade shit either. Gatorade isn't as hydrating as one would think. It's made for athletes who are working out and sweating, and releasing salt through their skin. Gatorade replenishes the sodium and sugar, but if you're not working out/sweating a lot, the extra sodium could cause water retention *panics* The best option for electrolyte-replenishing is coconut water, in my opinion. It's naturally high in potassium, which is the principle electrolyte lost by vomiting. Pedialyte takes a close second for hydration because it's designed to replenish electrolytes, like if you have the flu or something. You can buy Pedialyte over the counter at most (American) pharmacies.

Electrolytes are important in muscle contraction, which includes the heart. This is why many bulimics die from heart attacks

Of course, the best way to get potassium is through potassium-rich foods. Some examples:

Avocado

Acorn squash

Spinach

Sweet potato

Wild-caught salmon

Dried apricots

Pomegranate

Coconut water

White beans

Banana

Source: Dr. Axe

Y'all also gotta be mindful of your magnesium too. Magnesium is lost (most notably) through diarrhea and thus laxative abuse. Here's how to remember the electrolytes:

Potassium is lost through Purging and Magnesium is lost by taking Mega Shits.

I'm laughing bahahah but I shouldn't be because the magnesium thing is no joke.

2. Psychological Damage Control

The Post Purge Freakout-

​Quit playin. You know what I’m talkin’ about, that anxiety like fuck fuck fuck what did I just do I’m a worthless human I deserve to-

Stop.

These thoughts seem real, like ground-breaking realizations that affirm your worthlessness and desire to continue hurting yourself with ED behaviors. Diffusing these thoughts feels like the hardest thing to do in the moment, of course, but self-care is one of the most important factors in preventing another episode. I’m not trying to be some over-simplifying, self-righteous therapist who thinks that mindfulness is the only way out ‘it’s all about positive self talk, honey!’ Nah fam, anyone who’s dealt with the vicious cycle of bulimia knows it’s not that fuckin’ easy, and so I’m not trying to sugarcoat the fact that post-b/p self-care can be really goddamn difficult.

The best post-b/p self care I’ve implemented is putting on cozy pajamas (if you’re at home) and just taking a five minute break from what you’re doing to listen to music, draw/write, or go on a short walk. Let yourself feel comfy and secure, like being wrapped in a warm fuzzy blanket. Give yourself just five minutes to collect your feelings, and realize that a past slip-up can’t determine the future. Because that’s all it is - in the past. What’s in the past is done, and no amount of hateful self talk or self-injury will change that. But what you do in the present is what matters. Think about it as a fork in the road -

“Okay, so I just binged and purged, I have urges to hurt myself or compensate for what I just did, but what will happen if I don’t do either of those things?”

Nothing.

You might panic. You might cry. Let the tears come, if you are in a safe place where you feel you can do so. We know that the day might have sucked, but time stops for no one. The next thing you know, it’s the next morning. The sun is shining through your window, you are alive and your body is resilient. BOI IT’S A NEW FUCKIN DAY! YESTERDAY WAS A CAN OF SHIT, BUT YOU KNOW WHAT, TODAY DOESN’T HAVE TO BE. The important thing is that you lived through those horrible feelings, and you’ll remember that. You’re stronger, more resilient, and persistent than you think. You don’t even have to be in recovery to apply this. That’s not what I’m getting at. If you’re pursuing a goal, whether it be eating at regular intervals or meeting a certain calorie limit, there are going to be times you might mess up. And good god, it is absolutely okay.

Imagine yourself going to bed the next night, realizing that you had your first binge free, purge free day since you could remember. Knowing that you fought your urge to b/p will help you remember that next time, “hey, I’m stronger than my urges.”

I guess what I’m emphasizing here is self-forgiveness. I know a lot of people’s ED’s are driven by self-hatred and you’re all such beautiful human beings who deserve to love yourself as others love you. Wow. That got really deep real fast. But hey, I’ve been through it all.

~

Yo. I'm gonna add more to this, but only if people are interested in my ED-related writing. I'm actually working on a blog right now but I figured I might as well post some stuff here for feedback. PLEASE comment I would love to hear from you guys. 'Do I write like a sappy self-help book'? 'Is it relatable and/or helpful?' Let me know in a comment or DM what you're feelin about it. Sending hugs!

#recovery #eatingdisorder #eatingdisorders #prorecovery #selfcare #selfhelp #health #fitness #mental #mentalhealth #depression #anorexia #bulimia #ednos #binge eating #purging #thinspo #therapy #psychology #eating #purge #binge #BP

[communistmothman]

i made a thing

do you want to learn how to make fancy instant ramen?

i made a recipe, here you go (see below)

Alright motherfuckers, so you wanna make fancy ramen?? Fancy instant ramen?? You want to feel like the ratatouille chef?

You've come to the right place.

~Fancy Instant Ramen~

The Shit You’re Gonna Need:

-pack of instant ramen

-red pepper flakes

-soy sauce

-butter

-eggs

-garlic

-brown sugar

Optional Shit You Probably Want To Add Because I Did And It Tasted Good But Don’t Feel Bad If You Don't Have It

-Rice vinegar

-spicy red pepper paste

-green onions

Shit That I Didn't Add But Would Probably Taste Good

-vegetables (i dont know like, broccoli or water chestnuts probably.)

-seaweed

-meat of some sort

ANYWAY to the cooking part

Ok first off, im gonna need you to grab some shitty wooden chopsticks. Fork? Spoon? Spatula? No, fuck that. Shitty takeout chopsticks rule here. Your god is gone. There is only shitty chopsticks.

Alright, now boil some water. How much?? What am i, wikipedia? Check the ramen instructions, asshat!! Alright, is the water boiling? No? Stop watching it.

Once the water is a roiling boil (like big fucking bubbles and you can hear it) add them noodles. Cook’em for however that package says. Yes, that means go dig the package out of the trash because you forgot how long because you are a goldfish that learned to walk and wear clothes.

Now you got some cooked noodles! Congrats! Now if only you had money and success. Drain those cooked noodles and try not to burn yourself. Put those noodles somewhere, because now its time for the ~sauce~ aka: where the magic happens.

CHOOSE WISELY:

Are you going to want

-spicy sauce?

-really spicy sauce?

-or, Oh God I’m Breathing Fire, My Sinuses Are Cleared, Everything Hurts sauce?

While you’re making that very important decision, mince some garlic. Mince only one section thingy-

Ok mince only one clove if you are a pussy and dont care much for garlic. Mince two if you are cool.

Grab some butter! Like two tablespoons, if you dont know how much that is, check the paper on the butter, if your butter doesnt have paper on it, first of all, nerd, second of all, just do about

| | that much thickness wise. Its fine, cooking is a messy art filled with estimates.

Grab a pan, kindof a big pan. When i say pan i mean,, like frying pan. Put that motherfucking heat on ~medium~ and throw the butter in there. Melt that shit. Add garlic and stir it some. Bathe in your awesomeness. Then, take those red pepper flakes, and think back to the question of spice level. Just shake it a couple times if you dont like spice that much. If you like spice, go crazy, go stupid.

Ok now get the soy sauce and brown sugar. Grab your handy dandy measuring spoons and throw in a tablespoon of soy sauce (roughly) and a teaspoon of brown sugar (roughly). Add more or less, the world is your oyster, you glorious motherfucker!!

If you read the shit you need list, you mightve noticed the second section called “Optional Shit You Probably Want To Add Because I Did And It Tasted Good But Don’t Feel Bad If You Don't Have It“. well, if you have that stuff and want to add it, do that now. For the paste stuff, just a little bit, like a little smidgen. Or more, if you like it, i have no control over what you do. A splash of rice vinegar should be enough, add more you like it or want to yada yada you control your fate blah blah blah, you know how it goes.

Alright let the sauce kinda cook for a little while, making sure not to burn the butter. To check to make sure you arent doing that, smell the pan. Does it smell like hell and smoke and burning? You done gone and did went the burnt the butter. If not, good job!

Now that the sauce has chilled for like,, three minutes, grab those noodles. Remember them? The ones you drained and cooked? Yeah, add those motherfuckers to the pan. Stir em around. Mix em up. Let the sauce and the noodles get acquainted with each other, and then have a dramatic love affair. Ok now that it got weird, push the noodles to one side, like you are a picky 8 year old and the noodles are your least favorite food.

This is where shit gets crazy. Holdonto your hats, heads and sanity.

Another question- How much you like eggs? Hate em? Love em? Married to em?

Well dont answer me, because you cant because its a hypothetical question. If you only kinda like eggs, just grab one (raw) egg from the fridge, (or live chicken). If you like eggs more than the average joe, grab two. Or three if you are a physcopath.

Now, im going to ask you something kinda crazy if youve never done it before. Crack the egg(s) directly in the pan, yes the pan with the sauce and the noodles. Just try not to put the egg(s) directly on the noodles, itll make it easier. Now take your handy dandy shitty chopsticks and scramble those eggs. Scramble the shit out of em, stir like theres no tomorrow. Add more red pepper flakes if you want.

Once the eggs are scrambled and now longer raw, you did it! You did the thing!

Put your fancy instant ramen in a bowl and bask in your awesomeness!!

#yes i know its incomprensible #i dont c are

[hongbab]

Odd mixture - “Han Sanghyuk asked me out today.” (Ravi/Hyuk, pg, 2567)

a/n: written for this request ♥

sequel: just say yes

Imagine a 20-odd-year-old boy with the prettiest uneven eyes that you’ve ever seen. Give him a uniquely fleshy nose that seems to spread in the middle of his face even more as he laughs. He also has a pair of cute, pink lips with the corners naturally upturned a bit as if he is always battling a laugh that wants to burst out of him and when he smiles, his perfectly white teeth almost blind a certain unlucky bastard. His chiselled jawline is remarkable as well, just as his boyishly crumpled ears and his almost offensive height, his strong thighs and his big yet soft-looking hands. Lastly, add a large amount of cleverness, humour, ambition, and talent to the mix and stir well. That’s Sanghyuk.

Take another boy who is roughly the same age as the one above (if a little older), give him sleepy, droopy eyes, a big nose and tiny lips, and sprinkle some mental breakdown on top. That’s Wonshik.

Wonshik keeps staring at the desktop in front of him with his fingers in his black hair, supporting his head in his hands with his elbows on the desk. He really doesn’t know how he ended up here—not physically, because he knows he walked into his dorm room thirty minutes ago, but emotionally. Mentally. Psychologically.

There’s a grunt coming from behind and Wonshik hears Hongbin sit down on his own bed, clasping his hands with a clap that makes Wonshik's eyelids flutter in surprise. Apart from that, he still doesn’t move.

“Okay,” Hongbin says, sighing. “I thought I’d let you tell me what’s wrong with you, because you always complain about your life even when I don’t care, but you’ve been sitting there unmoving ever since I came in. Will you finally tell me what’s up or will you wait for me to beg? Not that I’d do that, just—”

“I don’t know,” Wonshik mumbles, blinking slowly.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Hongbin asks, speaking fast like he does whenever he’s annoyed. “You don’t know what your problem is?”

“No. I don’t.”

Hongbin sniffles impatiently and gets up from his bed, standing by the desk with his hands in his pockets—Wonshik can see him from his peripheral vision, but he really doesn’t want to look at his friend right now. People talk about killer looks in conditional sentences, but Wonshik once saw a spider drop from the ceiling after Hongbin had noticed it was making a web in the corner of the freshly cleaned dorm room. The spider didn’t move anymore.

“Did you ask Jaeeun out again?”

“No,” Wonshik replies. Now that he’s thinking about it, Jaeeun seems to be a thing of the distant past, as if he didn’t just get rejected by her for the fourth time two months ago.

“Fine,” Hongbin declares in a tone that suggests he doesn’t think it is fine at all. “You’ll write a song about it anyway and I’ll be forced to listen to it on loop.” He sniffles again and turns around, striding to his side of the closet.

“I won’t,” Wonshik mutters.

“Oh, come on,” Hongbin tsks, unbuttoning his shirt. “You always write about your heartbreaks.”

“I’m not heartbroken,” Wonshik says, sitting up straight. Hongbin cocks an eyebrow, but doesn’t look convinced at all. “And I can’t compose.”

“Ah, creativity crisis,” Hongbin nods and shrugs his white button-up off.

Wonshik is glad he’s already sitting.

Hongbin has a… very nice body and Wonshik feels as if he got struck in the head with a huge rock as the realization hits him. Hongbin's muscles tense up on his back as he bends over the bed to fold his shirt, his biceps bulging when he reaches up to the top shelf of the closet where he has his T-shirts. He has a nice six-pack, too—a six-pack that, in Wonshik's opinion, looks more desirable than his own, but… that six-pack doesn’t only look desirable right now. It looks hot and Wonshik wonders if Sanghyuk has a similar-looking tummy, if his pecs are bigger than Hongbin's or even Wonshik's; he wonders if the muscles between Sanghyuk's ribs look as defined as Hongbin's.

It’s sick and upsetting, but he ends up visualising Sanghyuk in the shower with the water steaming around him as he smears body wash all over himself like those model-like actors in TV commercials. Sanghyuk always smells nice, too. Wonshik is curious about what kind of body wash he uses.

He whines out loud.

“I’m gay.”

Time seems to stop as Wonshik says that with his eyes tearing up in embarrassment. Hongbin was halfway putting on his T-shirt, but now stops with the collar around his head. When he finally pulls it down very slowly, he blinks at Wonshik twice.

“I mean, no,” Wonshik shakes his head, “I like boys, it’s— it’s both, I like… both...”

“Wonshik…”

“Han Sanghyuk asked me out today.”

“What?” Hongbin furrows his brow, sitting back down on his mattress. “Han Sanghyuk? That second year guy from the fourth floor? The one who… you know,” he straightens and keeps his arms away from his body in an attempt to imitate Sanghyuk's wide-shouldered appearance. Wonshik nods. “Are you sure he was actually asking you out?”

“No need to sound so doubtful,” Wonshik grumbles. “He asked me if I wanted to have a coffee with him tomorrow—”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“—AND I asked him if he meant it as a date,” Wonshik continues, feeling quite miffed at Hongbin for thinking he’s stupid. “He said, ‘I guess’, and smiled. He smiled at me, Hongbin.”

“Mm-hmm,” Hongbin nods. “Okay, look, Wonshik. I’m not trying to play your parent, but saying you’re gay is… a huge thing and, so, are you sure you’re not just confused?”

Wonshik glares at him, but doesn’t say anything as he crawls over to his bed and pulls the duvet over his head, rolling to his side to face the wall. He really doesn’t know what he’s feeling. He never wanted to just hold the hand of a boy or sit in a boy’s lap or have another boy sit in his lap or… or just whisper nice things into a guy’s ear. The nature of his fantasies about boys has always been more… physical and a lot simpler—in the emotional sense, anyway. Even so, what he really wants right now is to curl up in Sanghyuk's hold and feel as small as possible, no matter how he and Sanghyuk seem to be of the same height. He feels hopelessly smitten and at the same time, he doesn’t know who he is anymore. He wants to cry.

*

Wonshik opens the door of the café to let Sanghyuk step out into the cold December weather first, trying to seem as gentlemanly as one can be. There’s a mirror on the wall on his left and when Wonshik's eyes meet his reflection’s, he sees the ashy grey colour of his own face. No wonder he felt like puking—he even seems like he’s about to do just that.

“It’s snowing again,” Sanghyuk says, scrunching up his nose as he looks up at the sky.

His face seems gilded in the yellowish streetlights, the shadows of his features emphasizing the sparkling of his eyes even more. Wonshik quickly averts his eyes, his cheeks heating up.

There are warm fingers around his almost frozen right hand and Wonshik winces, his entire right arm going numb as Sanghyuk squeezes his palm gently for a few moments before letting go of it.

“Wonshik.”

When Wonshik looks up, he can’t find Sanghyuk next to him but has to turn around, seeing the boy standing a few steps behind, head lowered as if he’s particularly interested in the small cracks on the pavement.

“Yes?” Wonshik asks, though he’s unsure if it’s actually comprehensible. He can see his breath leaving his mouth and he can hear the grating creak of his voice, but that doesn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean anything back in the café either.

“I…” Sanghyuk takes a deep breath and steps closer, but doesn’t look up at Wonshik. “I’m sorry if I misunderstood you or made you uncomfortable. It’s probably better if I…” he makes a vague movement with his hands, puts them in his coat pockets, and with a sad glance at Wonshik's face, proceeds to walk towards the dormitory building that is only a few metres away.

“I live there, too, though,” Wonshik mumbles, but stays still until Sanghyuk disappears from sight.

*

When Hongbin opens the door to their room, he knocks over an empty beer bottle that rolls against Wonshik's knee on the floor and he yelps unnecessarily, as if it actually hurt. It didn’t. Nothing hurts as much as his heart right now.

“Oh my God!” Hongbin cries out, horrified.

When Wonshik looks up at him through his tears and the snot that seems to be clogging up his sinuses and thus blunting his senses, he notices that Hongbin isn’t looking at him with worry creasing his forehead, but at the tiny drops of remaining beer dripping on the floor from the bottle. Wonshik gulps down too much of the alcohol in his hand and starts coughing.

“What the fuck happened here?” Hongbin asks, stepping in and collecting the four bottles he finds on the floor.

“Sanghyuk thinks I don’t like him,” Wonshik slurs, drinking again and fighting the tight sensation in his throat.

“No, I mean, why did you think it was okay to make a mess in here?” Hongbin grumbles, throwing the plastic bag Wonshik carried the booze home into the trashcan.

“I fucked up,” Wonshik says, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“You did, but… ugh, okay, tell me.”

Hongbin sits on his bed, watching Wonshik expectantly.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Wonshik shrugs. He feels so nauseous and sleepy… and he wants to kiss Sanghyuk so bad. “He talked to me about himself and I couldn’t even speak. He held my hand and I froze up. I wanted to kiss him, but he walked away. What am I supposed to do, Hongbin? How do I… how…?”

“First of all, you’re lame and can’t talk to anyone you find hot,” Hongbin says. “Maybe you should’ve made that clear to him. Secondly, I have no idea how dating works. Thirdly, drinking until you pass out won’t solve anything.”

Hongbin takes the half full (or rather half empty) bottle of beer from Wonshik and places it on his desk so Wonshik can’t reach it from his spot on the floor.

“And lastly, you should probably talk to him—”

“Right,” Wonshik says, scrambling to his feet, “I’m going to talk to him.”

“Tomorrow, Wonshik!” Hongbin yells, but Wonshik is already opening the door. “Talk to him tomorrow when you’re sober!”

Wonshik doesn’t listen. He walks to the staircase with a hand on the wall, closing one of his eyes in an attempt to get rid of his double vision. He stumbles up the stairs until he reaches the fourth floor, feeling sicker with each step he takes before stopping in front of room 412, heaving as he knocks three times.

“Coming!” a cheerful voice behind the door says. “Oh… hi.”

Wonshik lifts his heavy head, blinking slowly at Sanghyuk's tiny little roommate, Jaehwan, who grimaces at the sight of him as if Wonshik is a roach running around in circles on his porch. Wonshik feels like one.

“I want…” he breathes. “Sanghyuk…”

“Get in line, Casanova,” Jaehwan quips, but then the door opens wider and Sanghyuk is standing there, looking displeased with the way Jaehwan is handling the situation. “Fine,” Jaehwan rolls his eyes. “I was going to have dinner at Taekwoon's anyway.”

With that, he takes his coat and puts on his shoes, walking past Wonshik with a momentum that almost tips Wonshik over. Like a mini tornado.

“You’re barefoot.”

Wonshik looks up at Sanghyuk, confused, and then back down at his feet. He wiggles his naked toes on the cold stone flooring.

“I forgot to put on shoes,” he mutters.

He hears Sanghyuk sigh above him and then there’s a hand under his arm, guiding him inside where the wooden floorboards feel warm. Sanghyuk pushes him down by his shoulder, making Wonshik sit on an unmade bed with some kind of anime pattern on the bedsheets. Wonshik can’t tell if it’s Sanghyuk's or Jaehwan's, because there are similar bedsheets on the other bed as well. He wants to know what kind of anime Sanghyuk likes, even if Wonshik himself isn’t really interested in those shows.  When he looks up at Sanghyuk, he feels new tears pricking his eyes.

“Why are you here?” Sanghyuk asks while he pulls a desk chair to the bed, sitting down opposite Wonshik.

“I don’t—” Wonshik shakes his head, but that only makes him feel dizzier. “Hongbin told me— ugh. I wanted to tell you why… why I was such an idiot.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” Sanghyuk says and fuck, he looks so handsome even when he’s upset. “Maybe my gaydar is not developed enough yet.” He laughs bitterly.

“No, it’s— it is, I think,” Wonshik stutters. “You’re the first guy I really… liked. Ever. In the sense that I… that I would like to just sit and listen to music with you or, watch a zombie movie or watch you… play on your phone or whatever you want to do. And I don’t know how to tell you.”

He watches as Sanghyuk's eyes start crinkling at the corners, his nostrils widening and his pretty white teeth showing as he smiles, blinking down at his hands shyly. “What do you think you’re doing right now if not just that?” he asks and as he glances back up at Wonshik, the hurt and upset have disappeared from his beautiful face.

“Yeah, but,” Wonshik takes a deep breath to keep his nausea down, “but I also wanted to tell you… I get stupid around people I like in the— uh, romantic sense. I get stupider. I can’t really talk to them and I’m just, you know, awkward.”

“Wonshik, it’s my first time liking a guy, too,” Sanghyuk says and Wonshik vaguely notices that he has leant closer. “I know how nervous you feel, but, really, you could’ve sent me at least some signals.”

“I tried,” Wonshik sniffles. “I tried, but I’m the worst at that, even though… even though I wanted to kiss you so bad, I still want to kiss you so bad. Can I kiss you while I’m still drunk and brave?”

Sanghyuk bursts out laughing and Wonshik wants to laugh as well, but he’s too embarrassed and his ears are burning. He holds Sanghyuk's left cheek in his hand instead and pushes forward, pressing his lips to Sanghyuk's smile, kissing him softly. Sanghyuk kisses him back, opening his mouth and placing a hand on Wonshik's neck, his fingers playing with the short hairs on Wonshik's nape.

When they stop kissing some long, long minutes later and Sanghyuk has pulled him into a tight hug, Wonshik already knows he won’t remember anything in the morning. He won’t remember anything but the best kiss of his life—the kiss that made him the happiest he’s ever been.

Maybe, but just maybe, the mixture of the two of them isn’t as odd as he thought.

#vixx #ravi #hyuk #hyukvi #rating: pg #req #au #angst/fluff

[th3kintsugi]

50 Questions

tagged by: @so-tired-yet-so-alive (THNX BOO!)

rules: answer all the questions, add one of your own and tag as many people as there are questions

1. coke or pepsi? to be honest, I don’t drink either of them. they have this weird taste and I prefer sprite or root beer

2. disney or dreamworks? DREAMWORKS

3. coffee or tea? Tea, definitely. I love a good coffee every now and then but I’m addicted to tea so much that if you cut me I’d bleed earl grey

4. books or movies? if it’s reading or watching movies then reading, but if its the book or the movie that came from the book......it’s still the book i love reading srry 

5. windows or mac? I don’t know enough about computers to choose but I have windows rn and i like it so....

6. dc or marvel? MARVEL

7. xbox or playstation? I’ve never played either of them before 

8. dragon age or mass effect? Dragon Age, but only cuz i saw the gameplay on youtube awhile ago

9. night owl or early riser? NIGHT OWL ASF.

10. cards or chess? It depends on the card game tbh, like if it’s blackjack or chess then i’d pick chess, but if it’s ERS or chess, then ERS anyday

11. chocolate or vanilla? *inserts that fish in spongebob screaming CHOCOLATE*

12. vans or converse? Converse all the way. they just really suit my style

13. Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash or Adaar? Lavellan, cuz those face tattoos are bomb as fuck

14. fluff or angst? maybe a mix of the two? I like stories that start out angsty and then get better. it satisfies both my pessimistic and optimistic sides equally

15. beach or forest? I have VERY mixed hair and do you know what mixed hair’s mortal enemy is? Fucking sand. Plus, the way that light reaches through trees is my aesthetic ngl

16. dogs or cats? I love dogs, but cats are so much more chill like me

17. clear skies or rain? RAIN. I get more inspiration for writing whn it’s rainy idk why

18. cooking or eating out? “eating out, take that in whatever way you will” - @so-tired-yet-so-alive Honestly this answer was pure gold so imma keep it here because damn this is good

19. spicy food or mild food? Spicy, good for the sinuses

20. halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas? I didn’t grow up celebrating these, so Chanukkah cuz that’s what I grew up with (no I’m not Jewish, no I’m not going to explain)

21. would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot? A little too cold becuz being a blanket burrito is another one of my aesthetics 

22. if you could have a superpower, what would it be? the ability to switch powers whenever I wanted, cuz if you look up in the dictionary for “Indecisive (adj.)” You’ll see three different pictures of me because I didn’t know which one to choose.

23. animation or live action? Live action

24. paragon or renegade? Srry idk anything about Mass Effect

25. baths or showers? Baths. They’re more comfy even though I take more showers

26. team cap or team ironman? Team Cap

27. fantasy or sci-fi? FANTASY

28. do you have three or four favourite quotes, if so, what are they? 

“The path to Heaven run through miles of clouded hell right to the top.”  

- Imagine Dragons, ‘It’s Time’

29. youtube or netflix? For entertainment and laughing, Youtube, but if I wanna chill ;) then netflix

30. harry potter or percy jackson? HARRY POTTER! They were written so well and I cried a lot. I haven’t read Percy Jackson, but I’d be willing to tho

31. when do you feel accomplished? Seeing people smile and/or being moved by something i did is honestly my ultimate goal in life as a stranger, as a friend, and as a writer

32. star wars or star trek? Star Trek, but only because my mom is a major trekkie and she didn’t even let star wars into the house so i’ve never seen them

33. paperback or hardback books? HARDBACK

34. horror or rom-com? rom-com, cuz i’ve actually never seen a horror movie

35. tv shows or movies? TV shows because you get to know the characters a LOT better over longer periods of time

36. favourite animal? my top 3 favourites would probably be ravens (they’re my patronus), wolves and barn owls

37. favourite genres of music? Indie, Alternative rock, Punk, and Kpop would be my top genres. I’m kind of a musical chameleon cuz i like SO MANY different genres like you should see my spotify playlists its crazy

38. least favourite book? FUCKING LORD OF THE FLIES

39. favourite season? Either autumn or winter 

40. song that’s currently stuck in your head? Young and Menace by Fall Out Boy cuz it came out last night and that shit is FIRE

41. what kind of pyjama’s do you wear? I don’t really like wearing anything other than underwear ;)

42. how many existential crises do you have on an average day? WAIT IT’S NOT JUST ONE CONSTANT CRISIS??

43. if you can only choose one song to be played at your funeral, what would it be? Would it really matter if I can’t hear it?? Hmmmm probably Anna Kendrick - Cups (cuz they’re gonna miss me when I’m gone) haha I’m so sorry

44. favourite theme song to a TV show? The fresh prince of bellaire theme song cuz NoStAlGiA

45. harry potter movies or books?THE BOOKS

46. you can make your OTP become canon but you’ll forget that tumblr exists. will you do it? i don’t really have an otp and if i did then NO! WHERE ELSE AM I GOING TO SPEW MY UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS?!?!

47. do you play an instrument and if so, what is it? Sadly, I cannot play an instrument but i’d love to learn the piano and/or the harp

48. what is the worst way to die? honestly any way that’s slow

49. if you could be entirely invisible for a day, what would you do? For only a day?! Go to D.C and shake my bare ass at the president Hmmm maybe sneak into movie theaters and watch them for free

50. (my question) What are you planning on doing with your life? Well I’m glad you asked I’m planning on going to college for a major in english and a minor in photography so I can become an author and photographer :D

YAAAY this is one of the first things I’ve been tagged in despite me being on the website for like idk four years, so it was fun!! I’m tagging @kihyunslips, @cjphoenix135, @literally-just-yoongi-trash, @realistic-but-optimistic, @twisted-decisions, @tabby-flenderson, @onlywanttobeyourequal, @asalookslikeloki, @canislupusdingo, & @im-made-of-vanilla

[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?”)

#ryssafic #snk #shingeki no kyojin #ereri #eren jaeger #levi heichou #carla jaeger #dead on arrival #faerie au #faereri au #urban fantasy au #queue are my sunshine

[christianmommyvlogger]

I’m so tired of my fucking teeth

The one that I just spent almost 7 weeks going in weekly for is acting up. Like it never hurts to the point that I’m like ow, it’s just this past week been tender.

I have noticed my sinuses have been acting up since its spring now so I’m hoping it’s just the pressure from that. If it is still there by the end of golden week, I’ll schedule an appointment 😓

In the mean time I’ll just do what I’ve been doing (brushing lightly and flossing twice a day) and add a salt water rinse into the mix.