#my tags are all over the place but I spent 10 minutes writing coherent tags and tumblr decided to Swallow Them

[lexdrabbles]

Everything We Are

Here it is. The thing I’ve been writing for way too long. This was a gift fic for my lovely friend @ayame1212​, who got me into the angst hole that is Noragami. Enjoy your fresh, fresh pain. This features two OCs. They’re both assholes. Hope y’all like them.

Word count: 3711 Fandom: Noragami Warnings:  Non-graphic violence, armed robbery, background character death (non-graphic), nihilism, thoughts of revenge (briefly), blood mention, death mention. (Yeah... it’s basically One Big Angsty Fight Scene) Read on AO3

It was a patrol like any other. Yato and Yukine regularly went out looking for ayakashi during the night, following their pledge to rid the world of their influence (as much as they could, at least).

The streets were almost always deserted at this time of the night. Most night-time deities had no business being out and about so, other than the occasional human, only the ayakashi roamed around; hence, perfect patrol time.

They never expected to run into another god; much less one whose sword was hilt-deep in a human’s chest.

Yato had to physically restrict Yukine before he could jump at the scene without any forethought. “What the hell, man?” said Yukine. “We have to stop them!” Yato simply shoved the blond backward and stopped him with an outstretched arm. “Might want to analyze what’s going on before gettin’ yourself killed.”

Yukine huffed, “Whatever.”

They looked at the distant developments with more attention and noticed a third person. At that point, the picture came together: The man with the sword in his chest was holding a gun against the other person’s head, yelling at them to hand over all their valuables.

Normally, when you saw a god intervene in mortal affairs, it was something serious. Late night muggings would usually not be encompassed in “emergencies requiring divine intervention”, but Yato was not one to judge. After all, if anyone knew what small prayers like these did for minor gods, it was him. However, something was still strange. It took him too long to pin down why something still did not make sense, too long to notice the slight squinting of the attacked.

It took Yukine yelling at him to realize there were no ayakashi around, and this god’s blade was not leaving the man’s chest until he had succeeded; reflecting some sort of light into the victim’s eyes and effectively blinding them.

They were not trying to stop him; they were making him do this.

Yato knew exactly what kind of god this was.

And she had heard Yukine’s yell too.

She had flinched and looked in their direction, visibly disrupting her shinki’s concentration, as the beam of light faltered enough for the victim to fight back. She yanked the sword away without hesitation, finishing the man off and leaving the other shocked at the sudden death of their attacker. The god fled, leaping away; but Yato was not about to let her get away without facing consequences for her actions. He and Yukine shared a look. “Come, Sekki!” As soon as the blades were in his hands, he went after the rogue god.

They jumped on roof after roof, ran through the streets and leapt unearthly heights. He chased her with a grudge he had not felt in a long time, with a burning desire to make justice by himself; to take her apart piece by piece, to break her shinki until it knew the pain it had caused, to—

“Yato?” Yukine’s voice dragged him out of his own head. “Are you okay? You’re kind of gripping really hard…” He looked down at his paled knuckles and loosened his grip on the swords. “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t bullshit me. Putting up with your sweaty ass hands is one thing, but you better have a good reason for squeezing me.”

“I’m the one doing all the running, so shut up before I drop you right here. You’re going to make me lose track of her”

As if she had been reading their minds the whole time, the god suddenly stopped in the middle of a crossroads. Yato landed a few meters away from her. Watching, waiting.

She stared at him, too; her brown eyes calculating, dark hair settling down after the chase. After a beat of analysis, she simply uttered “Revert, Hikari”.

A flash of light later, a tall figure stood beside their master. They both donned similar clothing; skirts and dress shirts in black and white, like negative images of each other.

“What, does everyone need to have a uniform?” Yukine piped up.

“You gonna attack an unarmed god?” She finally addressed him. “Come on, put that away. Where are your manners?”

“Who are you?” Yato deadpanned, flipping Sekki around in his hand.

“The name’s Aya,” she curtsied mockingly. “This is my guidepost, Hitsuki. Who are you? That’s a very nice blade you got there.”

Yato almost felt too uncomfortable to keep Yukine in his weapon form any longer. “Revert, Yuki”. The teen stood next to him with an annoyed look on his face as Aya shamelessly eyed him up.

“Yato. He’s Yukine. What were you doing back there?”

“Yato… Yeah, I’ve definitely heard that name somewhere…” She looked thoughtful as she ignored Yato’s question. “Of course!” She finally exclaimed. “You defied heaven itself, didn’t you? Faced off against Takemikazuchi in person, right?” Her eyes glinted with mischief and her tone lowered. “That your hafuri?” A smirk settled on her face. “He looks cute, but I didn’t think he would be so young.”

“Well that’s none of your business, now is it?” Yukine snapped back, blushing.

Aya merely chuckled. “And he comes with an attitude, too! How charming…” She gestured to her own shinki, who had been quietly laughing along the whole time. “Hi-chan is a snarky one, too. Quick wit might just be something all hafuri share…” She looked Yato in the eyes as she referred to her vessel as a hafuri. His expression was transparent as the other god’s statement took him aback completely.

“Hard to come by shinki this loyal as a god of calamity, isn’t it?” Her statement felt like a punch in the gut. Yato’s expression hardened and he instinctively stepped forward and slightly in front of Yukine, as if trying to protect him. “What were you doing back there?” he pressed.

“Oh, you know, just business. Muggers are kind of my target audience, you could say. Say a little prayer and leave a tip and defenseless people with full pockets start crossing your path left and right…” She winked and gestured to the shinki beside her. “Sometimes they need a little help, a pick me up, if you will. Some are way too nervous; some can’t deal with feisty prey. That’s where this one comes in. They’re quite the charmer, really. You see, they have an edge to them that gives most ill intents a boost.” She chuckled at her own pun. “And after changing, well… Mind if I show off? Come, Kouki!”

As the tall figure dissipated into white light, Yato immediately summoned his own weapon —and Yukine was happy to oblige—. Both gods were left standing under the street light again, blades glistening.

“Calm down, man! I’m just showing you!” She seemed truly unbothered and sly. What had materialized, rather than a sword, was a black and green scabbard at the god’s waist. In an instant, Aya unsheathed a tachi with a long, polished blade. It looked sharp and made visions flash in Yato’s mind that he would rather not recall.

“Check this out,” Aya angled the weapon just so, and a spot of bright, white light shone on the pavement. It moved with the blade in a smooth, almost mesmerizing dance; running across the floor and up buildings, roaming along street signs and traffic lights, until it went back to its starting point on the pavement between the two gods. With a flick of the green handle in Aya’s hand, the dot disappeared.

“Pretty cool, right?” she bragged. “Concentrated moonlight. They could barely keep their edge consistent before changing, but now? Most precise weapon you could ask for.” She angled the blade so it reflected the streetlight, no magic required.

Yato observed her and his blood slowly boiled. The way she moved her sword and the way she had used it on the humans before made his skin crawl. He watched every turn of her wrist and every sway of the green handle in her hand.

“Why use it like that?” He finally replied. “Why influence humans’ hearts in such a profane manner?”

Aya laughed.

“Oh, look at him with the big words! Profane, ooh, that hurt!” she mocked. “A prayer is a prayer, Yato. People want me to help them make a living, get out of financial pinches… after all, that’s what us little gods’re here for, isn’t it? Answering mortals’ prayers… Surely you understand,” something glinted in her eyes, as if she knew she was pushing exactly the wrong buttons.

Yato’s face hardened. “As a matter of fact, I very specifically do not.”

She stopped dead in her tracks and looked Yato in the eyes, her expression darkening. He shifted Sekki’s blades in his hands. “Don’t be confused; I am no god of calamity.

Aya stepped toward him, resting the long, curved blade of the tachi on her shoulder, and scowled at him. “What’s with the swords, then? What are you god of, low-stakes fencing? Have I perchance run into the powerful god of war, Bishamonten?” she inspected him as she came closer. Yato did his best to stand his ground, deadpan as he tried not to grit his teeth. "Want me to give her a call so we can settle this quicker?" He threatened.

"Oh, she's your friend, right?" Aya stopped barely a meter in front of him. "Figures traitors would stick together".

Yato closed the distance between them and crossed Sekki's blades at the other god's throat.

"You sure talk a lot of shit for a creeper who takes money from predators".

Aya simply eyed Sekki up, looked Yato in the eyes and smirked. "And you talk a lot of shit for a killer".

His blood froze. His entire body was paralyzed. His pupils shrunk into specks. The single word echoed and bounced in his head.

“Yato? Yato! Snap out of it!” Yukine’s voice rang louder. He quickly withdrew his swords and leapt away onto the closest rooftop. “We need to get out of here.”

A high-pitched voice reached them from the street below, “Come on! Things were just getting fun!” They could hear she was not giving up; Yato jumped from roof to roof hoping to get away from the unrelenting footsteps of his new pursuer.

“Yato, what the hell are you doing? I thought we were the ones chasing her!” his shinki’s voice resonated in his head. A speck of moonlight ran on the floor in front of him and suddenly glared into his eyes. Blinded, he maneuvered into a flip and landed wrong on the next roof; he stumbled and fell off the side, losing Kouki’s light in the process. Sekki managed to ram into the nearest wall just before they hit the ground, and Yato used the momentum to thrust him forward.

“Stop running from yourself, Yato! You can’t escape your nature!”

He landed on the floor and got set to start running again before Yukine pleaded once again. “Yato! Stop running and confront him!” Or had he said her? Yato did not know. He was thinking too much. All of their words bounced around his head and he did not know what to do with them, or himself, or his feet that suddenly had him turning around toward the building he had just fallen from. Aya dropped to the ground to face him once again. Blades at the ready. “Ready to face our sins, are we?” She said with a smirk.

Yato looked her in the eyes; something that was not quite rage burned in his. His head was as clear as his thoughts would allow, and a single thing stood out among them.

“Do you not know?” His tone was measured and cold. He turned Sekki in his hands and swiftly readied the blades at his sides. “A god can do no wrong.”

He charged.

As their blades collided, both gods were reckoned with each other’s strength. The raw power that emanated from them ricocheted on the buildings along the street. A blaze of white light flashed between both weapons and Yato staggered backward, covering himself as Sekki bore another strike from Aya’s tachi. The swords clashed and glared and clanged against each other, bursts of light exploding between them as Yato kept dodging toward higher ground to avoid Kouki’s blinding attacks.

Aya was fast; faster than Yato was comfortable with. She wielded her sword and its abilities seamlessly, with the ease of flowing water. They coordinated, assembled and moved as one, making spare use of words to communicate; as if sharing a mind.

“I thought your kid was a hafuri, god of calamity” Aya mocked behind another flash. “Where’s your sync? What’s all that eternal loyalty good for if he ain’t protecting his master?” Another blinding light shone into Yato’s eyes. Anyone could have smelled the storms slowly but surely inching closer to them, reeking of ayakashi and bad omens. He crouched behind a roof, panting; Sekki nearly slipping from his grasp. He could feel Yukine's distress coursing through his system. “You okay, kid?” He took a moment to wipe the blades and handles on his sleeves. “What are you doing?” The shinki’s urgent voice popped into his head, “get back out there! Stop hiding, you coward, we need to kick their—” “Okay, okay, calm down. You have to focus. We don’t stand a chance here if we don’t work together.” “That must be so easy to say when you’re not the one taking all the hits. I have been holding back, you know? You always go on about how every soul has a purpose or whatever, but it’s so hard, Yato! Your life is in danger and I’m just being swung around helplessly and dulling myself because you said it’s the right thing to do! You’re way out on a limb here; they are overpowering us and we’re just taking it!.”

Yato sighed as if he had the time to ponder. He looked at Sekki’s blades, as if looking him in the eye. “Yukine—” A single beam of pure moonlight reflected off the edge, bouncing up into the sky like a beacon.

“Found you!” The yell was closer than Yato had expected; soon he found himself dodging yet another sharp swing in his direction, covering his eyes with one arm. Aya did not use her shinki’s ability sparingly, and it was a powerful move.

“I nearly thought you’d left me here all on my own!” she laughed between attacks “Can’t deny you’re having fun, can you?” She took a moment to block a strike from him and look him dead in the eye “Can’t reject your nature; you were made to fight, after all.” Another flash. Yato grew more and more aware of Kouki’s use of their light manipulation. Sure, they were powerful bursts, but they were not very directed. It seemed as if quick attacks were not their forte. “Of course,” he thought, “they don’t usually need to use it in combat. It’s a diversion tactic, not an attack.” He dodged the light, jumping up to try getting to his adversary from above. Aya leapt away, the gleam of her shinki trailing behind her. Her shots’ inaccuracy was increasingly obvious to Yato, even while still struggling to keep up with their rapid-fire nature. He saw an opening and drove in, crossed swords first. Aya harshly blocked his blades, giving him a good look at her and her own weapon: unscathed and glinting almost mockingly.

“Isn’t it so fun to cut things up?” she said, an intense look in her eyes. Yato looked away and caught a glimpse of his own reflection on Sekki’s surface: his eyes a cold blue, his hair tied back. He staggered. Before he could help it, Aya took the upper hand; swinging at him until he was against a wall, barely parrying her attacks. Panting and struggling to keep his eyes open, he was confronted with his opponent again: sharp edges, disheveled hair and clothes from the fight, her white shirt stained red and ripped in several places. Her eyes, however, were mocking as ever; they radiated a sort of feral enjoyment that made Yato’s stomach churn. He glanced at Sekki again and saw its battered, dull edges taking slash after slash from his adversary, the blight beginning to rust at the tip of one of the swords. He could feel Yukine’s frustration and anger rushing through his veins, feeding into the fire that had been burning at his core since the moment Aya opened her mouth.

“Yukine,” he started, his voice a strange mix of serene and tired “you can do it.” It was a simple statement. Not encouraging at all. It was too late for pep talks. “At least say it with some feeling next time! What the hell does that mean?” “It means some purposes aren’t worth fulfilling.”

Aya rammed her sword into the wall a centimeter away from Yato’s head, white light entirely dazzling him. “What’s that you’re going on about? Purpose? Please. Purpose is a fairy tale made up by humans to fill the void of their existence. They don’t have a purpose, and neither do we. We’re just here for the ride, and some of us choose to take full advantage of it.” Her voice was exasperated “You used to be cool, man! I used to hear tales of the fearsome Yato god, cutting down humans because it was fun! And now you want to help them? What, you think you can suddenly be a benevolent god of fortune? You wanna fart rainbows and happiness or some shit? Don’t make me laugh.” But she was not laughing. The amusement in her eyes had morphed into something bitter and resentful as she removed the blade of her shinki from the wall and angled it against Yato’s neck. “You don’t get to choose.”

“Stop holding back.” He stated plainly, readying his swords. Aya looked taken aback for the first time. “I’m flattered, really, but don’t think you—” “I wasn’t talking to you.” His cold eyes lit up in fury as Sekki glowed a blue glare that purged the blight covering it, leaving the swords looking sharper and deadlier than they had looked in a long time. Relief flooded him as he charged against her with little reserve, swinging once and again and again, through flashing attacks and counterstrikes. His opponent parried and dodged and fought back, but she was tired and thrown off. Kouki seemed not to know what to do with themself, launching random glare attacks that seemed increasingly uncoordinated with the goddess’ charges. Yato’s movements and Sekki’s edge were precise and unwavering.

“It’s freeing, right? The feeling of having someone’s life at your fingertips.” Aya prodded, laughing nervously as she barely kept the other’s swords off her. Yato’s expression didn’t budge. “This is what I’ve been saying!” she panted, tone desperate, “You can deny it all you want, but your true calling is really just cutting. Shit. Up.” She tried to use her words as a diversion and charged at Yato one more frantic time; her opponent didn’t falter. With a maneuver of both swords, Yato jerked the tachi from Aya’s hand, sending it clanging through the pavement a couple meters away. The goddess’ back hit the hard surface of a wall and one of Sekki’s blades was at her throat; the other swiftly drove into the wall, centimeters away from her face. “You’re right, in a way” Yato said flatly. His eyes still burned a bright blue and his hair stuck to the sweat on his face. “I am fulfilling my purpose with a blade, after all”. Aya’s face was unreadable; all kinds of emotions muddled on it, but she forced out a smile that was nervous and desperate and wrong. “Right! That’s all I meant, really. Now we can leave it here and call it a day, and—” Yato’s sword inched closer to her neck, grazing the skin just enough to keep her from moving. “You’re also wrong,” he continued. “The only “shit” I cut up is scum like you. Sekki didn’t draw back, and little by little cut away at the goddess’ skin. “Alright. Well, I think now she’ll understand that— Yato?” Yukine’s voice got lost somewhere in the echo chamber of his thoughts. His enemy’s whimpers filled his ears. “What are your thoughts on reincarnation, Aya-gami?” He stated more than asked, voice cold. “Yato! That’s enough!” Yukine demanded to no avail. A thick trail of blood ran down Aya’s neck. “Yato! Cut it out! You’ll kill her for real!” Yato’s sight was fixed on the blade.

“Yato, stop!” He screamed with a strength that resounded over the cries and the fog in Yato’s brain. “Line!”

The god fell forward, Sekki’s blade slicing clean through the building wall. Aya’s body slid down until she hit the floor, holding onto her head as if to confirm that it was still attached. “Hitsuki! Holy shit. Holy shit, Hi-chan, get over here”. The tachi glowed and morphed back to their human form, and the shinki ran to their goddess’ side. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? I couldn’t move. I’m so sorry—” they cried. Yato just stared at the scene, still detached. “Yukine”. He managed to call. A moment later the blond teen was slapping him across the face. “Just what the hell were you thinking?” he yelled. “You almost killed her! What’s all that edgy ‘some purposes aren’t worth fulfilling’ bullshit? I thought you were kidding!” Aya stood up with her shinki’s help, ready to make a run for it, but Yato’s stare froze both of them in place. “I hope this will serve as a warning:” he admonished. “If I ever see you hurting a human again, you won’t be so lucky.” He laid his hand on Yukine’s shoulder. “I’m sure you of all gods understand hafuri can be very protective of their masters and our wishes.” He looked Hitsuki in the eyes, as if addressing them directly. “He won’t go so easy on you next time.”

Four cold expressions collided before Aya and her shinki turned their backs.

“We’ll be sure not to get in your way, o merciful one.” Her tone was bitter and sarcastic.

“Off you go, then!” Yukine pressed.

And the two figures simply walked away until they disappeared into the shadows.

[bright-molina]

a/n dedicated to my fav @stevie-harrington! I said I’d write this for you ages ago and here it finally is omg (also, again, not my gif) 

synopsis: After moving to Hawkins the very first person you meet is Steve, the cute boy at the ice cream place who’s a terrible mess with a bad sailor’s uniform. What could go wrong?

*

You had never loved anything more than you loved the Starcourt Mall. Not necessarily because you loved the mall itself, simply because it required you to do less work in cases like this. 

It wasn’t long ago that you had moved to Hawkins and you were in need of some new room decor. And also some friends according to your mother, which is the exact reason she had recommended you head to the new mall. That was how you found yourself standing at the entrance to an ice cream parlor. You could see through the large windows that it was almost empty, save for an older couple, the guy working the register, and the girl you could see sitting in the back. You let out a relieved sigh and swung open the door, a small ding signaling your entrance into the shop.

*

Steve screwed his eyes shut tight at the sound of the bell above the door ringing. His job wasn’t that bad at first but after about two days into saying ‘ahoy!’ to every single person who walked into the store he had had enough. The only thing that kept him going was the fact that every other Friday he got a paycheck. A small one, but a paycheck nonetheless. He braced himself before spinning around to face whoever it was that had decided to ruin his brief moment of peace and quiet before the rush of people came in. 

“Ahoy!” He practically shouted before crashing right into the once spotless counter. Saying he was taken aback would’ve been an understatement. He didn’t really know who he was expecting to walk into the shop at 10 am on a weekday but you were definitely not it. 

He fumbled to pick up everything he had dropped while struggling to form a coherent sentence. Ultimately he gave up and simply let everything fall victim to gravity. “What, uh, what can I get you?” He tried desperately to not look like even more of an idiot as he let the various jars spill onto the floor. His sailor uniform didn’t do much to help his situation.

A sympathetic smile made its way onto your face as you dodged some sprinkles that had gone rolling your way. “You look like you could use a minute.” 

“No!” He all but screamed at you again and once more cursed himself silently. It didn’t help that Robin was very obviously snickering from the back room. “It, uh, it happens all the time. I’ll clean it up later” 

An amused smile replaced the sympathetic one as your gaze left him and trained onto the menu hanging above you. “You must go through a lot of toppings then if they keep falling over.” You quickly glanced in his direction only to find his eyes focused right on you. 

“Just every now and then,” Steve shrugged easily but was internally screaming at himself. This was wrong. He had never had any problem when it came to flirting with anyone at all. And yet there he was, completely flustered just by the sight of you and not knowing how to recover. 

You gave a small laugh and glanced down at the freezer that housed the ice cream in an effort to hide the way you smiled. But Steve had already seen and he gained just a little bit of his confidence back. 

“How about that one?” You pointed at a random flavor and he, Steve as his name tag read, handed you a cup filled with much more ice cream than was probably customary. You tried handing him a handful of coins and he refused to take it. 

“It’s on the house,” He told you. “My treat.” 

“Well in that case,” You spoke before he could walk away. “You should join me if you’re up for it. I could use the company.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that.” He smiled at you before telling you he’d be back and walked into the backroom for a brief moment. 

Ten minutes later he was sitting across the table from you. “You haven’t been in Hawkins long, have you?” Steve might have only known you for fifteen minutes at best but he was sure of what your answer was going to be. 

“How could you tell?” You asked as you ate another spoonful of ice cream, still not quite sure what flavor it was that you had picked. 

“Well besides all the bags,” He spared a glance towards the pile of bags on the floor before looking back to you with just the smallest hint of a smirk. “I’d remember seeing you around.” 

“Would you now?” You were amused, to say the least. Steve was forward, you’d give him that, and you weren’t exactly opposed to his advancements. Yes, he did look absolutely ridiculous in that sailor's uniform and you were almost certain that you weren’t the first girl who had walked into the store that he flirted with but you couldn’t help being curious about him. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” 

“Not a chance,” His smile was more genuine this time. He had finally relaxed enough to actually keep a conversation with you and was feeling more in his element already. “None of them are you.” 

You couldn’t help yourself. Instead of swooning like he was probably expecting, you let out a loud laugh. Any progress that Steve had made was quickly thrown out the window. Your head was thrown back, your eyes crinkled, and your smile wide. He felt a sudden warmth in his chest and had to physically look away in an attempt to hide the way his cheeks flushed. 

“You are aware that that line was incredibly cheesy, right?” Your laughter slowly died down and a small grin replaced it.

“I realized after I said it.” Steve nodded before glancing at the clock. His fifteen minute break had passed and more people were starting to come in. Very hesitantly and with a heavy sigh he sat up straight in his seat. “I should head back there.” 

“If you must,” You stood from your seat at the same time he did, picking up your variety of bags in the process. “I gotta get going anyway.” 

He slowly started walking back towards the counter again and gave you one final grin. “You should come back sometime. I mean, if you want to.” 

“I’ll think about it,” You grinned and watched as he bumped into the countertop, swore, waved, and headed into the back room. When he was gone you dug out a pen and reached for a napkin. You scrawled out a note and left it by the register before leaving the parlor. 

*

“I think this belongs to you,” Robin was shocked that somehow, someway, you seemed to actually think Steve was somewhat charming. She held up the napkin that you had scrawled your note on and he quickly reached for it. 

Your note was short and sweet. You never asked but here it is. You had signed your name underneath the note and right below that was a slew of numbers he could only assume were yours. 

“I think this was a win,” Steve finally looked up from the note, smile still present, and tucked the napkin safely into the pocket of his uniform. 

“I’ll give you half a point,” Robin uncapped the black marker and walked over to the board. “You did literally make a mess everywhere.” 

“That’s not fair,” Steve tried arguing his point. “We had a very nice conversation after that and I only looked stupid like four times.”

“Tell you what,” Robin leaned against the wall and marked half of a tally mark under the ‘You rule’ section of the board, the only mark on that side whatsoever. “If she comes back within the next couple of days without you having to call her then I’ll give you the full point. Deal?” 

Steve thought for a few seconds before answering. He was sure that you had liked him as much as he had liked you. Maybe not as much but you definitely didn’t think he was a loser, which was a huge plus. Truth be told, he was really hoping you would come back, which is the only reason he agreed. “Deal.” 

*

You came back the next day. It was a little later and there were more people but you had come back. Steve was a little shocked that you had actually returned but he greeted you with a wide smile nonetheless. He took his break a little early just like the day before and joined you in a booth. The two of you shared a sundae and talked for as long as you could. 

The week that followed happened like clockwork. You showed up, sometimes early in the day and sometimes late, bought something off the menu, and then Steve joined you. That day, though, was different. It was closing time and you hadn’t come in at all. 

“You look like a lost puppy,” Robin rolled her eyes from where she was cleaning up behind the counter. Steve was mindlessly sweeping the floor and staring out the glass doors at the now empty mall. She knew that when he didn’t retort back that he had it bad. “You could always call her.”

“Won’t I look desperate?” Steve finally looked away from the doors and finished what he had been doing. 

“A little bit,” Robin confirmed but he had already made up his mind. It killed him to admit that he had only known you for nine days, a grand total of just a few hours, but somehow he missed you. He had already made a fool of himself in front of you, he really didn’t have anything left to lose. The second he got home he would call you and hope you answered.

*

You had spent the majority of the day consoling your neighbor over the break up she had just gone through. Earlier that day you had found her sitting on the front step of her own house near tears. She was torn and you couldn’t help but try to help her. By the time you had remembered about going back to the mall, it was too late. But it had been a day well spent. 

The very last thing you were expecting was for the phone to ring right before you headed to your own room for the night. Your brows furrowed as you walked towards it and hesitantly picked it up. 

“Hello?” You had no idea at all who could be calling so late at night. But when the person spoke you recognized them instantly. 

“Y/N?”

“Steve,” You let out a small laugh as you propped yourself against the wall. “I didn’t think we were gonna talk today seeing as I didn’t stop by and you haven’t called me until just now.” 

“Well, I didn’t have a reason to. You’ve come to see me every day,” He told you confidently and you could almost see the smile on his face. “Look, I thought a lot on the drive home and I, uh,” You could also hear the hesitation in his voice. “I missed you today.” There was a pause and for a brief moment, Steve was terrified that he had messed up. 

“I missed you too.” You finally managed to say through your wide grin. 

“Hey do you,” Steve cut himself off abruptly, not sure of his next words. It was now or never. “Do you wanna go out tomorrow? With me? Like on a,” He was nervous again and you admittedly found it endearing. “On a date?” 

“How does 3:00 sound?” You gave him your answer almost immediately. Somehow he had won you over in the midst of all his rambling over the past week. “Is that okay?” 

“It’s perfect.” 

*

You were sitting on your front doorstep the next day alongside Max, your neighbor that you had spent the previous day with. She had seen you that morning and insisted on helping you get ready. Now she was waiting alongside you before heading to the mall to meet her own friends.

“You never did tell me who your date was,” Max pointed out, noticing the way you smiled just the smallest bit. 

“We, uh, met at the mall last week,” You told her. “His name’s Steve.” 

Max gasped, having just had a moment of realization. “He wouldn’t happen to work at that ice cream place, would he? Has ridiculously good hair? Like honestly it’s shocking.” 

“Yeah,” Your brows furrowed and you looked at her surprised. “Do you...know him?” 

“You could say that,” Max briefly thought of all of the events that had gone down a couple months ago. She quickly pushed them away and turned towards you, laughing a little in the process. “I can’t believe Steve Harrington is your date!” 

“Can’t believe in a good way or a bad way?” You were curious, to say the least. Right before she could tell you though, a car pulled into your driveway and Steve himself stepped out. 

“Max?” He questioned out loud, confused as to why one of his kids was sitting right next to you outside of what was presumably your house. 

“I believe we have one more mutual acquaintance, Harrington.” She nudged your side and you laughed. You leaned over, a barely noticeable smirk replacing your smile. 

“Watch this,” You told her before standing up and walking towards Steve. Max did just that, watching the way Steve’s attention turned towards you and you completely. His look of confusion turned to one of utter bliss as you leaned up and hugged him. You couldn’t see his face but Max could and he looked happy. She had only ever seen him act cocky, confident, and usually annoyed. You pulled away from him and she couldn’t quite hear what you said to him next. She had to laugh at the way Steve Harrington of all people grinned, looked away, and honest to god blushed.

“Who would’ve thought?” Max shook her head as she stood up and walked towards the two of you. “I thought you were supposed to be a real lady’s man, Harrington.” 

“Are you kidding me,” You chuckled at Max’s comment then turned to look at Steve affectionately. “He was a mess the first time I walked into the shop.” 

“I think the phrase you’re looking for is a hot mess,” He left his arm wrapped around your shoulders, ecstatic on the inside when you didn’t protest or move away. “I mean, it worked didn’t it?” 

“I guess we’ll see by tonight, won’t we?” You teased, laughing when he rolled his eyes playfully at your comment. 

“Hey so,” Max started, looking at Steve and the keys in his hand. “Since we’re all friends here,” He knew exactly where she was going with that statement. “Do you guys wanna give me a ride to the mall before you head out on your date?” 

He hesitated before answering. He was nervous enough about your date as is and really didn’t want the added pressure of Max asking questions as they drove. But the combination of Max’s pleading eyes and your smile that said ‘why not?’ was enough to make him groan loudly and motion towards the car. 

“Fine, get in.” Steve sighed and Max immediately ran to the car before he changed his mind. 

“You’re off to a pretty good start already,” You told him as the two of you followed in the direction Max had gone. 

“Am I?” Steve asked, beaming as he stood on the opposite side of the car from you. 

“You are.” You confirmed with a smile. As you got into the car and listened to Max and Steve bicker back and forth you came to a single conclusion. Living in Hawkins was going to turn out to be just fine.

[spork-guitar]

Lucky Lady Chapter 15

@sapphicsovereign​ @gingerdaile​ @catsssmeow​

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Original prompt by @gale-of-the-nomads​

Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, and 14.

Hi. I think you can probably guess what this is - an apology, another excuse for not posting in weeks. With everything that’s happening in the world and in my personal life, I just had to take some time off for my own mental health. I won’t bore you with the details, but I haven’t written a word since early June. Some days I couldn’t get out of bed for hours, some days I considered giving up writing for good. I'm going to continue, but if I had any semblance of a posting schedule before, I definitely don’t anymore. I’m sorry for the few of you that still read this. I know it’s frustrating to be invested in a story and have it go unfinished for a long time, believe me. But as of now, I still plan to finish this fic. It may take a while, but I’d like to believe things are looking up for me. My apologies, again. Thank you for being patient.

That being said, this chapter is (hopefully) less depressing than that. This is an example of a chapter that was never part of the plan but happened anyway, which is about 80% of my content in any given story. Oh, and I threw in an OC... and gave him a backstory... and it’s about twice as long as any other chapter so far... and I swear none of that was supposed to happen, but... enjoy?

 Adrien adjusted his tie for the nth time, only to have his hand swatted away by the meticulous designer who had spent months working on a unique suit just for him. It was silly, really, because no matter how much hard work and effort the man put into the ensemble, it just looked and felt like every other suit he’d worn before. The only difference he could see was the price tag. Sure, he knew from a fashion standpoint what the benefits were of certain pocket styles and fabric choices, but other than that, it was just a suit. 

He had heard about brides-to-be suddenly “feeling like a bride” when they tried on the right dress, but he supposed they were already excited about the prospect of getting married, having found the person they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with. Adrien couldn’t relate. At this point, he knew he was wearing his wedding suit. It was what he would wear the day he married Lila. He would smile and tell her how beautiful she looked, because there would be cameras filming his every move. He would be the perfect husband, the perfect son, the perfect model, etc., etc. Every second he spent with her in public for the rest of his life would be perfectly scripted and planned out to make them look like the perfect couple, but something about that made him dread getting married even more.

Adrien frowned at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was combed, suit clean, tie straight, shoes shined, and he felt less like himself than he had in ages. He knew the person looking back at him in the glass, but it wasn’t him. It wasn’t right.

He rolled his shoulders and tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, effectively loosening his tie and earning him an exasperated sigh from the man in front of him.

“Ay, M. Agreste, please. If you don’t stand still, we’ll never finish in time, and I have another customer coming in half an hour!” A thick Italian accent made his French harder to understand, but Adrien got the message.

“Sorry, M. Bertinelli,” he half-mumbled.

The stout man raked his fingers through his thin gray hair. “Alphonso. We’ve been through this. M. Bertinelli was my father, God rest his soul.”

“Wasn’t his name also Alphonso?”

“Si, si. But to me, he was papà. At work, he was M. Bertinelli. The only person who ever called him Alphonso was mia madre, Lucia. The angels took her too soon.” He bowed his head, eyes downcast.

Adrien tugged at the collar of his suit uncomfortably… again. “I, uh… I know a little about that.”

Alphonso regarded him with a kind smile, picking a piece of lint off his lapel. “You would, wouldn’t you? How long has it been? Ten years?”

He scratched his neck, looking away from the man’s persistent gaze. “Yeah, almost.”

Someone just beyond the fitting room knocked softly on the door, and it creaked open hesitantly after a second. “Are you decent?”

Ladybug. Adrien smiled. “Yeah, come on in.” She stepped into the room and waved shyly at M. Bertinelli. Her gaze turned to him, eyes widened and cheeks flush. She looked him up and down, as if trying to memorize every little detail of his pricey ensemble. By the time her eyes met his again, he was sure his face was every bit as red as hers.

Suddenly, as if remembering why she came into the room in the first place, Ladybug stared intensely at her tablet and cleared her throat. “Uh, I don’t want to bother you, monsieur. I’ll only be a minute. You have a fencing lesson with M. D'argencourt at his private court in...” She paused, scrolling through the day’s schedule. “...thirty minutes, so we should be leaving within the hour.”

Adrien was pretty sure her openly gaping at him for multiple seconds had effectively cleared his mind of any coherent thought other than a long string of exclamation points, but M. Bertinelli had him covered. “Not to worry, bella. I’ll have him out of here in plenty of time.” With a hand on her shoulder, he led her back out the door. “I’ll call you when we’re finished.” Once she was out of earshot, he chuckled, waggling a suit brush at him. “You like her,” he said matter-of-factly.

“What?”

“Oh, don’t pretend with me, ragazzo. I can see it a mile away. The way you smiled when she walked in the room, how you blushed when she looked at you.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in. “You’re not exactly subtle, ragazzo, and neither is she.” Adrien felt his face heat again as Alphonso laughed merrily. “Besides, I’ve been in love before.”

Adrien shrugged off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, draping them carefully over the back of a chair. “How do you know it’s love? I haven’t known her very long. It could just be… I don’t know, something else? Love is a strong word to use.”

Alphonso shook his head insistently, setting the brush on the vanity counter. “It’s just like it was with my late wife, Rosa Maria. When I met her, she was with my old friend Claudio, who treated her poorly. A shame, really. Rosa was the sweetest woman I ever knew, and Claudio? Well, he was something else. I thought I’d live my whole life in love with a woman I’d never have, but love is a funny thing, ragazzo. I had just about given up when she up and left him one day. Came knocking at my door, telling me she loved me all along. Of course, Claudio didn’t like that very much, but it worked out for me and my Rosa. It will work out for you, too.”

“You think so?”

“Of course! You don’t live to be fifty-seven without learning a few things about life. Now, get out of that suit before you wrinkle it.”

“Don’t you have to alter it?”

“It fits you like a glove, ragazzo. I knew it would.” He took the discarded jacket from the chair and put it on a mannequin across the room. “You know, that might be a good analogy. The right girl will fit like a good suit - comfortable, nice-looking, and affordable as long as you’ve got a rich padre.”

“What should I do about Ladybug?”

Alphonso shrugged. “Whatever needs to be done. Don’t worry yourself too much, anyway. Things have a way of working themselves out, and you’re a pretty smart kid. But if you want some advice from a man who’s been put through the ringer a few times, I think you should tell her how you feel before it’s too late.”

Adrien frowned. “It might already be too late. My wedding is in eighteen days, and everything’s ready. I can’t back out now.”

“Well, if you go through with it, that’s fine. Your wife better be over the moon. She’s got herself the handsomest boy in Paris.” 

“Thanks, Alphonso.”

He patted Adrien on the cheek and ruffled his hair with a fond smile. “Ah, get outta here. But if you never need a listening ear, I’ve got two of ‘em, and I can always pretend your suit doesn’t fit quite right so you can come back. I sure wouldn’t mind the company.”

Adrien laughed politely, not sure if he meant it, but secretly wishing he did. Alphonso treated him like family, like the son he never had, and he acted more like a father than Gabriel ever had. “You know what? I’ll let you know.”

“See you around, Adrien.”

…

Ladybug stood up as he walked back into the waiting room, clasping her hands behind her back. “All done?”

He rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “Yep. Let’s get out of here.” She snickered, quickly clapping a hand over her mouth to sober herself. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just… your hair is a mess. It must have happened when you changed back, because it looked fine when I was in there earlier.”

Adrien ran a hand through his hair and swooped it to the side. “Better?”

“Mostly. There’s a little part…” She pointed to the left side of her head, and he patted down the right side, mirroring her. “No, the other side.” He followed her instructions, but to no avail. She clicked her tongue, reaching out. “May I?”

He kept his voice steady (he hoped) and his expression neutral. “Of course.” With gentle fingers, she quickly found the problematic tuft of hair and combed her fingers through it a few times to tame it down. When she was done, she brushed a few strands out of his face, nails gently scraping his forehead and over to his ear. 

Satisfied, she smiled, completely oblivious to his inner turmoil, and patted him on the head like a dog. Maybe a cat. “All good! Let’s go.”

Well, that was just plain unfair. The way she could touch him like it was nothing, like the world around them didn’t just cease to exist when she smiled at him. Truthfully, Adrien was touch starved, and he knew it. It had been years since the last time he willingly hugged someone, so he was automatically hyper aware of every time Ladybug casually touched him. Every electric brush of their fingertips when she handed him his schedule, every playful smack when he made a bad joke, every time she got close enough that he could feel her breath teasing his skin like a light summer breeze.

He futilely tried to console himself with the thought that she would still be his bodyguard after the wedding, but if anything, that made it worse. He would spend years, perhaps the rest of his life knowing she was off limits. Right there, a few houses, a room, a meter away, but he couldn’t have her. 

But how, he wondered, do you simply coexist with someone who doesn’t know how every tiny little thing she does turns his whole world upside down? He knew he was unlucky, but even for the Powers That Be, that seemed a little excessive.

[atelophobicity]

Top 10 Things You Shouldn’t Do If You Want to Finish Your Thesis On Time

It’s my entry for September! I’ve been busy in consuming new music, films, and kvariety episodes in my effort to catch up on everything. So, I decided to post monthly to fulfill my oversharing Tumblr needs and to exercise my skills in writing in English and putting thoughts into coherent words.

TL;DR of this: things I’ve done instead of doing my thesis for the past year and a half. I’m not romanticizing my not doing thesis self for the past 21 months, but I’m also not dissuading you from doing other stuff besides thesis because god knows, you will need something.

1. Got a part-time job. This was the first new thing I’ve done that really took my time and effectively gave me no time to do thesis. And yet, this was the most rewarding thing as I learned how to get my TIN, accomplish my deliverables, answer to my superiors etc. Looking back, I wasn’t the best employee and I deserved no job offers on the same company after. But still, it was a stepping stone in the right direction. Adulting-wise, anyway.

2.  Discover the art of creating.

Journal spreads. I bought a 2019 planner and I couldn’t fill it up, so I decided to turn it into a journal-planner. The art materials I used for to design pages are from old supplies bought back when I was in high school or stickers from the fandom-related events I attended. I didn’t spend money and I was given a chance to be creative.

Sew doll clothes. In K-pop, dolls that look like your idol exists. It usually comes with one set of clothes to dress it. As a “doll mother”, I wanted to dress them with new clothes but buying clothes was expensive. So, I just sewed clothes for them. I made clothes from scrap fabrics or clothes no one wears in our household. I’ve been barely successful, but it’s one of the things that keep me happy and make me feel like I’ve succeeded in one measly part of my life.

3. Purged my online files.

From my high school files. Nostalgia has been one of my coping mechanisms. I was able to be provided by lots of it when I discovered that I didn’t lose my high school files and it was on my mom’s laptop all along. Being able to relive memories while organizing my files was the best hours of that day.

To my external hard drives. Since 2016, I have been a hoarder of online files for so long that I have two EHDs to prove it. This time though, I was able to delete content that was either repetitive or uninteresting anymore. I was able to shave off some of my data bytes and am now able to save new interesting content available online (if I ever find one).

4. Realigned my priorities and consumption of K-pop as a stan and as a person by:

Selling 3/4 of my merch. Unlearning the pride that comes with owning K-pop merch was difficult, but overtime, I have been proud of myself for not falling to the traps of capitalism—at least in K-pop. Also! I was able to buy my own concert tickets with the stuff I sold so it is a win!

Joining giveaways instead. No matter how I can avoid the urge to buy K-pop merch, I still can’t help but want to own them. This is where I discovered how joining giveaways was my next best option. It takes a lot of effort and screenshots to win these things. However, if and when you win, it really feels like winning against the odds. You get free merch too!

Actually spent hours to vote and stream. In relation to the last point, since the main requirement in giveaways I’ve joined are voting/streaming proofs, I have been one of those people who collects points on voting apps or has a playlist of music videos that should be streamed. After collecting and/or streaming, I take screenshots, put watermarks there, and tags mutuals if needed. It’s relatively hard work but there’s a feeling of pride when your idol wins the poll or an MV reaches a certain amount of views and you know you participated in making that happen.

5. Rediscover Youtube. Channels like the vlogbrothers and their associates (Crash Course, Pemberley Digital among others), Buzzfeed’s shows (The Try Guys, Ladylike, Buzzfeed Unsolved) were a delight to watch after being out of the Youtube loop for so long. The platform also offered new niches of content and I allowed myself to be sucked in it. From Simply Nailogical to Ask A Mortician to amazing pop culture video essays like Lindsay Ellis and Jenny Nicholson, Youtube has all it for you! Learning something new every day is one of my favorite things and I get to do it with this website.

6. Rediscover my love of writing. (As if I’ve written anything for my thesis but here.)

Made drabbles. There is a weekly activity on my fandom where we write < 500 word drabbles on any pairings. I have been joining when I can, and through the support of the (small) community (back then), I gained confidence to write one. I’ve written at least four now and I’ve not done yet because I’ve been on a slump lately. But I’ll get back to it soon!

Short story. The same account that brought the drabble challenge created a festival where we write a pairing and write a short story with it. I decided to join the event! Not going to lie, my entry was shit, It was the first draft, it needed a lot of revisions and more constructive criticism and yet, I am still proud of it. It was the first creative fiction I wrote since 2019 and I did it in a day. And, I believe it has potential, so I’m going to review and revise the hell out of it someday.

7. Reclaim my college days.

Reconnected with orgmates. Visiting Elbi for registration and consultation purposes are brightened up by the fact that I get to do this. My first four years of college were not kind to me. I’ve forgotten a lot of things because of trauma and deep sadness that I still have until this day, and when I remember good things, they’re few and far in between. The numbered days I was in Elbi during 2019 were also few and far in between, but they were infinitely better than my academic years from 2015 to 2017. I was able to do the things I wasn’t able to do before (mostly attending Happy Ts and eating in newly-opened food places there) and I get to do it with people I love.

Made friends. One of the drawbacks of being a slot-driven student with no care of my coursemates’ schedules: I didn’t get to establish a friend group. So I didn’t get to make friends. During this time, I’ve accepted that I didn’t have any friends outside my organizations. But this time, instead of a feeling of dread of being that cliché orgmate, I feel relief and happiness because now, I realize that I do have friends from college, unlike the 2015-2017 who didn’t have anyone in college to rely on her darkest times.

8. Appreciated my friends more. For the past few years, I was the shitty friend. I agreed to go on hangouts only to message them that I’m backing out the last minute—sometimes I even straight up ghosted them. I really took my friends for granted. I have been slowly making it up to them by always attending when there’s an invite! I sometimes initiate the invite and it’s always a fun and healing time for me (it was a literal healing time for me as I was depressed during that time). I love them and I’m always thankful for them—and more so now than before.

 9. Unlearning things like:

Realizing that a priv (a private account meant to be seen by your mutuals you trust; usually contains unpopular opinions and hot takes on stan twitter) only encourages negative emotions and I must not do it again.

No matter how I tried rationalizing my hate for Jennie when the JenKai dating news happened, I was one of those K-pop stans who hated her because she dated my idol. (I have moved on past that and have started liking her and Rose.)

Knowing that attacking people for what they say won’t make them unlearn their wrong opinions. Not talking down at them and educating with patience is the key, always.

There are still so much more I unlearned and learned where those came from. My main takeaway is: it’s complicated.  Sometimes our opinion needs a more nuanced perspective and sometimes it needs to scrapped entirely because it was just wrong. But it is essential so we, as people, won’t be stuck with outdated views of the world.

10.   Learning something new like:

Practicing how to do Tzuyu’s helicopter hands until I realized it wasn’t meant for me.

Utilizing Omegle to look for potential quaranflings.

Installing Telegram and uninstalling to ghost quaranflings.

How to do laundry in compliance with my mother’s preferences.

Doing two things at once.

Enough patience to take time and read the laws our government makes every day to know what I’m fighting against.

Optimizing my Twitter lists and now I can keep up with current affairs (that takes a toll on my mental health) then scroll through a fic fest-centric list the next (that helps me forget the stress from reading news).

Learning something new every day has become one of my life goals. Knowing that the world always has something new to offer to me, a speck in this universe, warms me up and keeps me going. And you’ll never know where the new tidbits will lead you. Maybe it’ll help you reconnect with something you’ve known before, maybe it’ll change how you see things, or maybe it’s something new that once explored, it will contribute something new to the community. It may seem small and unimportant but with a tweak in perspective, it might be something worth doing and pursuing.

Looking back at my list, I can finally see how if I didn’t do all these things, I would have probably finished my thesis by now and probably working a full-time job, able to provide the financial needs for my family. There will always be regret that I am still not done until now. But stressing over my current predicament in this time when the world is in its most stressful state yet won’t help me. So, we soldier on and hopefully, hopefully get back to the thesis I’ve been meaning to do.

 Let’s get it.

[toas-tea]

tagged by @thank-god-and-you​ @lodessa @fanoftheknight​ . thank you my dudes.

AO3 Name/FFN Name: ToasTea. my ffn name will forever remain a secret so no one is subjected to a 14 year-olds cringey anime fic.

Fandoms: i only write for got, but i ocassionally stalk persona 5/mcu/kingdom hearts/detroit become human

Number of fics: 9

1. Fic you spent the most time on: if we’re measuring by life expectancy, paradox. it was only a week, but it felt longer because i was still super emotional and fucked up over season 8 i think i lost like half of my life span during the process.

2. Fic you spent the least time on: crimson flower; last minute submission, 48 hours, a shit ton of coffee and at least 3 beers with 5 teaspoons of anxiety. -20 years

3. Longest Fic: dunamis (8k words)

4. Shortest Fic: sun dance (2,711 words)

5. Most hits: paradox

6. Most kudos: paradox

7. Most comment threads: crimson flower

8. Fave Fic your wrote: it’s a tossup between paradox and crimson flower. paradox because it was my first fic in at least ten years and am proud of overcoming anxiety hurdles. crimson flower because i somehow managed to squeeze a mildly coherent story within a short amount of time outta my booty cheeks.

9. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: rewrite monochrome syndrome someday. too clunky/exhausting in a lot of sections and imagery is juiced with crack and all over the place rather than consistant. expand my post-KL series with more diabetus fluff and pure softness while mildly dodging the politics because i’m a potato.

10. Share a bit of your WIP: 

“Quickly.”

A throaty whisper brushes against the back of her neck.

“Before anyone notices.”

His words are the only warnings he gives her before he sweeps her away. He is much taller, strides longer, and it’s not long until she’s being half-dragged through the thick snow trying to keep up with him.

“Where are you taking me?” she giggles.

“It’s not much further, I promise.”

He turns then, and his grin nearly splits his face in two. The mirth dancing in his eyes, the elation radiating from his tight grip on her arm and hasty steps, the boyish excitement that took years worth of blight from his face and made her feel like they were eloping to an undiscovered world. She has seen him happy before, but it feels like she is discovering something new yet familiar about him again. 

He is an endless story she never

im not sure what possessed me at the time to leave a sentence unfinished like that. there’s a possibility i was tired of trying to force myself to write so i just fucked off mid-sentence but i mean uhh the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell?

i tag @memoir-of-stars and uhh i think everyone else has been tagged idk *tags all of you again*

[silenciawrites]

Nano Day 10

Me: it took three tries, but my demons finally act like demons, yay!  Also me: this is literally a healing scene, what the fuck 

Ebony continues to be the world’s most oblivious person.

Word count: 40,100/50,000

Goals: Get to the end of Part 1 within the next 20k. (That won’t happen but I live in hope.)

Snippet:

“Did I not just say that you’re a terrible liar, Eb?” Ayra still sounds mild, but her eyes go cold and watchful as she focuses on Ebony’s face; all Ebony can really see is that deep and dreamy green. “What did you do with it?” 

It?

Ayra doesn’t know about Aza. She thinks the Hearrteshard is an it. Ebony’s mind works sluggishly through the clouds that seem to have rolled in over the last few minutes—she has a number of options, none of them good. She can lie to Ayra and be immediately caught out; Ayra is too old and too canny for Ebony to pull one over on her. She can refuse to answer and spend a lot longer dealing with Ayra than she needs to, wasting valuable time that could be spent finding Aaron and Sparrow. She can tell Ayra the truth and put Aza into who knows what kind of danger—but she’s already in danger because of whatever’s happened here tonight.

Or…

It’s risky, but it’s the only possibility she sees, and maybe the only thing that will do Aza or herself any good at all. If she can just get Ayra focused on the thing rather than on the person…

“Do you mean that crystal thing?” she asks at last.

“Maybe.” Ayra’s tone is noncommittal. “Is that what you handled?”

Does it show on her skin or something? How does Ayra know what she’s touched? “She took it away with her,” she says. “My friend. She nearly died trying to save that stupid crystal thing. I helped her. She almost died. And someone in a car came for her. I don’t know where she is now.”

Ayra assesses her with a thoughtful gaze. “But you’ll meet her again, since you sent her away with someone.”

Her head feels sort of floaty, and she’s not entirely sure what they’re even talking about anymore. “Sure. Fine. Whatever. Yeah. But I gotta find Aaron and Sparrow first, since—” she waves a hand towards the church, “fire—”

“They’re fine. I would know if they were not,” says Ayra with calm authority, the same way she’d spoken of the Visionaries being dead. Ebony’s not at all sure how she would know, but she lets it pass. “See, your local heroes have already arrived.” She nods towards the shouting men crowding the front of the church, the water that’s starting to douse the flames. “Speaking of which…” She frowns at Ebony all of a sudden, as though coming to a realization. “You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah, probably.” Ebony smiles at her, feeling very light-headed all of a sudden. “Didn’t feel it though.”

Ayra circles around to look behind her, and when she comes back she’s scowling. “You didn’t think to mention he’d stabbed you?”

“Didn’t hurt. Kinda forgot. S’kind of annoying how you’re always so pretty, did you know that? Middle of an emergency and all.”

Ayra rolls her eyes. “Come here and sit,” she orders. “We’ll get back to your friend in a moment.” Flicking a hand, she dismisses the corpse at their feet. Ebony watches it vanish with blank fascination. When her eyes tick back to Ayra’s face, there’s something that might almost be faint concern. Then she looks up, and for the first time in...probably ages, Ebony sees Ayra actually smile, with nothing around the edges of it. “Ah, there you are.”

Ebony can’t quite get up the energy to actually turn her head, but she sort of lets it loll to the side, and from that angle she can see another woman coming out of the trees. She’s striking, tall and blonde and lovely, enough so that Ebony’s temporarily dazzled mind wonders if part of the deal of becoming a demon is being gifted unusual beauty. (Maybe she just keeps running into the pretty ones? But there’s got to be some benefit to giving up a peaceful afterlife. She sternly tells herself that these questions are not befitting of a priest’s daughter, even a priest’s daughter who’s been bound for Nekhril since the day she was born if his word can be taken for it.)

“Ebony,” says Ayra, and Ebony fights to bring her head back around to Ayra, “this is Lyssa.” 

That name should mean something to her, but it won’t quite click. “Oh,” she says sleepily instead. “Hi.” She’s still looking at Ayra, and the words come out sort of slurred, but neither of the other two seem to care.

The blonde--Lyssa--comes around to her side. Ebony feels a hand, long and slim with oddly sharp fingertips, press against her back just above the wound. She knows it’s just above because the contact sets off a pulse of pain that jerks her back from the soothing semi-consciousness she’d begun to drift in. “Ow, shit—”

She feels it again, that vicious punch forward that must have had the knife in it the first time, and fuck, that hurts! When she tries to jerk forward, a number of her more creative curses leaving her lips, Lyssa’s other hand comes down on her shoulder and holds her firmly in place. “It’s less than pleasant, I know,” she says mildly. “But considering the amount of blood you’re losing, this really can’t wait.” 

It burns like a swarm of wasps burrowing under her skin, and she can feel the way each individual muscle fiber, each strand of skin twists and writhes and pulls to knit back together. She’s lost any coherency but must be making some kind of noise because it hurts so fucking much; she thinks she’s screaming, but neither Ayra nor Lyssa react to it, so maybe she’s not.

Then all of a sudden it’s over, and Lyssa’s hands lift away from her skin. Ebony falls forward, catching herself on her hands. It takes her a minute of staring at the grass to stop shaking. “What the fuck,” she manages once she’s sure her voice will still work. Her throat feels raw. She’d definitely been screaming.

“Thaumaturgy isn’t really meant to heal,” says Lyssa absently. It’s genuinely galling how little interest is in her voice. “It can manage if you force it, but its nature will show.”

Ayra’s sitting in the grass beside her now, and Ebony’s not sure when she got there. “You were in rather rough shape,” she says. “Was your friend as badly off as you?”

“If she is, I’m sure not letting you do that for her,” Ebony rasps, not missing the amused look Lyssa gives her. “Something was wrong. I don’t know how bad. Enough that I had to get her out. What does it even matter, anyway? What do you care about some relic of the Saint?”

---

Tagging: @writekaywrite, @tinbramble, @toboldlywrite, @lady-redshield-writes. And one more shameless plug: I’m on the NaNo site at Silencia del Umbrae if you’re looking for NaNo buddies!