#it's almost a way of HER saying: you young lovers do your love thingy and leave the real history to the old men

[megaclaudiolis]

柄本 佑 || 「光る君へ」 (2024) · 第二十一回 「旅立ち」 ​​​

[jackbabewang]

Genre: Veeeeery slight angst, Fluff, Best friends to lovers

Word count: 3,050

Being together is that—

No matter how many days, weeks, months, or years go by, keep every promises made.

a/n: heavily listened to coming home while writing this, maybe you should too

When we first met

Jaehyun was the kind of person who endeared himself to everyone who knew him and you were swept off your feet the first time you saw him, roaming the corridors looking for your new classroom where they’d been relocated in the beginning of each year. The school personnel had this system going on ever since the dramatic increase in the number of students and to suit the new batch of each grade, or simply cause of the Pungsu-Jiri (Korea’s Geomancy or Feng Shui) thingy. Yeah, it was kind of unnecessary. 

Given plenty of time to break away from each other’s gazes if you wanted to, but neither did even with your feet continued walking yourselves in the opposite direction. 

How could anyone have such warm brown eyes as those? It was virtually impossible! 

Jaehyun changed your whole life as you knew it. You became best of friends, and whispered to each other on every occasion possible.

Twenty minutes into the class you spent sipping your Coke with your head bent, under the desk, behind the erected textbook to shield yourself. 

History teachers were obsessed with things that weren’t there any more. They lived in the past and expected us to want to live there too. You couldn’t imagine that any history lesson can be a thrill a minute, but with Mr. Lee in command, the expression ‘to die for’ took on a whole new meaning. Mostly everyone sat there sighing and thinking, “Why are the clock hands moving so slowly, has the battery committed suicide?” Mr. Lee was a very boring teacher. You meant very boring. He looked boring and sounded boring and everything he said was boring. He was Mr. Boring-Boring, Sir Boringest, Lord Boring of Boring-in-the-Brain. He droned on and on and on about nothing you wanted to know, then wrote it all on the board and told us to copy it down, or write an essay on it, or ask him questions. He didn’t get many questions, mainly because no one had been listening or trying to read his crabby handwriting.

SLUUUURP— 

Reaching the bottom of your cup, though not too loudly, just loudly enough so that Mr. Lee, standing in the front, a few feet away, could hear you. 

“Who was that?” he roared, his eyes darting everywhere, scanning everyone, until they settled on you. 

Instinct was not about being the smartest, but it was about being in tune with your inner drive and you turned to your only friend. He first eyed you with confusion, then gave a questioning look over the top of his glasses

“Jung Jaehyun!” 

At the call of his name, his jaw dropped, eyes widened with disbelief, frustrated and full of rage at being your scapegoat. This girl! She’ll be the death of me. 

In the end, you compensated for your mistake by flashing him the widest smile in your footlocker collection of smiles.

The beginning: Promise of the youth

During the summer holiday, you secured a part-time job at a rental record store. Jaehyun would sometimes visit and you would play the newest music out dancing and clowning around when there were no customers in the store. 

“Hey, tell you something. That guy at the counter-” 

Jaehyun tilted his curious head to the direction of the said individual, not caring that the man would notice the two youngsters were openly discussing him. 

“Don’t be so obvious, idiot!” Your nudge turned him back to you, “He’s the store manager. Apparently he first met his wife here and they’ve been together since then. Believe it or not, it’s been fifteen years! Isn’t that amazing? I can’t believe anyone can fall in love for such a long time!” 

“You sure are a mathematician. And nosy.”

“I’m an expert when it comes to this.”

“Should put it into good use instead. Like, what? Education?”

“Shut up.”

When you met them, you didn’t understand what held them together. You remembered thinking, This is really an odd couple! After spending some time with them and learning their story, it all made sense. He was her anchor, and she was his ultimate challenge; but more than that, they genuinely seemed to love one another. 

“Gosh, I can't imagine how I'd be like when I'm thirty…” 

It was always the future—a perfectly vague, indefinite future that terrifies you. You wished you could stay like this forever, young forever, happy forever. Your needs are simple, far more so than the needs of an adolescent or adult. Just think of a child, laughing at the least thing that catches its fancy, the image of himself or herself in a mirror, or the way a family pet behaves. 

Here you have Jaehyun, the secret source of your happiness. 

His voice broke in upon your thoughts, “Thirty-year-old unmarried woman… There're tons of them!” 

“Thirty— I don’t want to be that—” You shuddered, fighting back waves of panic at the image of an old lady alone with too many cats. “If I’m still single at thirty, you have to marry me.” 

Your abruptness caught him off guard. He didn’t speak for a moment but there was a glint of mockery in his eyes, a mischievous smirk played on the corners of his lips, as if he wasn’t taking you any less seriously for it. 

“What kind of reaction is that?” So you nudged him in the ribs, laughing all the more when he made an overly dramatic wince. 

“I want to have a Harry Potter themed wedding… A sunflower bouquet… Ooh, and you know what? I’m gonna abandon the heels, they’re going to kill me!” 

He chuckled. What a lady. 

“How about you? Tell me about your dream wedding.” 

“That would be marrying the love of my life.” Then he grinned. The indentations in his cheeks called dimples, making his smile heart-meltingly sweet. His eyes crinkled almost closed when he smiled, too. 

“You’re boring.” 

“What were you expecting? Dyeing my hair blonde or pink or purple?”

“That would be nice too.” 

She fell in love

“Jung Jaehyun!” You shouted his name and started waving frantically. He recognized your voice immediately despite the muffling effect of your scarf. And his heart dropped to his feet when you barely checked the road for cars before you went streaking across it. 

Next to him was a guy you’d never met before. He was about the same height as Jaehyun, his right ear a bit pointed like an elf’s, and with a face like that, you damn sure would’ve remembered.

Grinning broadly, “This is my classmate, Sicheng.” 

“Hi.” As he spoke Korean with his delicate Chinese accent, the words dripped from his lips like honey. 

“And she is-” 

With a warm smile and you introduced yourself, interrupting whatever Jaehyun might have added. Though you’re already telling him of information which was much not needed.

“Oh… You both are-”

“We’re besties!” 

“We’re heading to the cafe for awhile, do you want to join us?” 

“Sure!” 

Then you fell for him and discovered that when it comes to romance, intelligence takes a back seat to stupidity. Jaehyun half agreed, half disagreed. To him, you’re always the latter even before your blind infatuation.

Cupid, that little rascal, had already fired his arrow into your heart and had no intention of letting you escape this magical feeling. And that’s how you described the whole theory of ‘Love at first sight’ to Jaehyun, who’d probably known it better than you did.

Then, she had her first heartbreak. 

“We broke up…” You showed up unannounced on his doorstep crying bitterly only for him to drag you to the courtyard, away from his dormitory where you wouldn’t be seen or heard wailing like a toddler who had lost her lollipop, where you wouldn’t be causing disturbance to the neighbouring students, and where he wouldn’t be mistaken for the one that shattered your heart into fragments. 

“He said I never stopped talking, said I talked too fast. He pretended he couldn’t understand Korean and talked shit about me in his Ching-Chong language. He said I’m annoying and loud…” You paused long enough to take a breath, and felt more tears streaming down your face. “Am I... Am I really that annoying?” 

Something about your current state made him want to pick you up and tenderly wrap you in a blanket of protection. It was laughable to hear you whining about ‘the Chinese guy’ you once fell head over heels for. He was trying hard to control his smile that wanted to show on his face, and shook his head instead. “No, not at all.”

“Am I loud?” 

Though afraid to fuel your outburst, “Sometimes…” It was a fact. 

“I am not loud…” You spun around and stomped toward the bench, your lips pouted in misery and your head placed in the south right now. 

When he patted your back in a futile attempt to calm you, you moved after his hand in double time. “Stop patting me…” A few incoherent mumbles of him being the annoying one instead, then, “Jung Jaehyun! If I’m still single at thirty, you have to marry me.” 

“You always say that.” 

“You need to swear it this time.” Wanting him to stay true to his words, you held his right hand up.

“Swear, what?” 

You rolled your glossy eyes and exhaled a breath in exaggerated impatience. Was he dumb or dumb?

“If I’m still single at thirty, Jung Jaehyun will have to marry me!” 

As he repeated, “If I’m still single at thirty, Jung Jae-”

“No!” You scolded and whacked him on the arm. “Idiot…” 

An uncontrollable smile stretched across your face as you slowly relaxed. He stared at you for a moment, grinning faintly, an amused glint in his eyes. There was magic in you, he decided. 

You slumped back into the bench, your eyes staring into space, your mind numb. Unshed tears blurred your vision and you caught the warm drops that slipped past with the backs of your hands. Naturally, you reached over and rubbed them on his jacket to try to wipe away the traces of madness. He never complained, of course. 

“You know… You do have a superpower…”

“What is it?”

“The superpower of making my tears disappear…”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. Talk about being a charmer. “That’s gross…”

Chill crawled down your spine and he mimicked your shiver. “You are gross.” 

Long time no see

At eleven o’clock, files for the meeting laid in front of him that he probably wouldn’t even notice his phone buzzing. He looked down at the familiar caller ID flashing on the screen. 

Without thinking twice he picked up the call. 

Immediately connected through the line, your piercing cry blasted his ear. “He said he wanted to break up with me…” Unbeknownst to yourself that it was so loud the people next to him could hear you. He smiled at his colleagues apologetically and quickly excused himself from the room. 

He found what he guessed to be an unused room, hidden away down a relatively quiet corridor. Then he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and one ankled hooked over the other. Even though he couldn’t see your face at the moment, he could paint a perfect picture of tears streaming down your face, snot hanging on your nose. 

“Okay, okay. Stop crying.” Jaehyun was laughing. You took no notice, but went on crying. The more you cried the more he laughed. Your sobs, like fulminations, were thunderous. “You’ve gotten stronger, you know that?”

“Huh? … What?”

“I said. Your howling has gotten stronger.” 

“No, it didn’t. Bastard.” 

“I’m in the middle of a meeting right now. Talk to you later.” 

Though the phone call was cut short, it made you feel much better. Instead of hogging him on, you decided to leave him a text message, saying, “Thanks for making my tears disappear.” It was that corny line again, that he couldn’t help but grin upon reading. 

“Hangout this weekend?” He replied.

Saturday of that week 

Jaehyun offered to pick you up at your place. 

“Hey.” 

It still hadn’t completely sunk in that how much you’d matured in the last few years. Medium height, you had long dark hair, which you’d forego your full bangs, soft romantic curls looked shiny and healthy, as did your skin. He could tell from the way your outfit moved along with your body that you had a woman’s figure with lots of curves. 

“It’s been awhile,” you started. 

Staring at you too much would be creepy though, awkwardly he put his hand up with a smile, he ushered you into the passenger seat and got behind the wheel of his car and drove off. 

“Broke up again?” 

“I’m okay. It’s not the first time for me.” 

He glanced over at you a time or two, perhaps worried, but you didn’t seem to be mad or crying. As he was about to speak, your cell phone’s high-pitched ringtone crashed into the conversation, shattering the moment in an instant. 

Incoming call: Jerk

“It’s him- He’s calling! Should I pick up? Should I?” 

“If you want to-” Once again he got interrupted as he was trying to talk some sense into you.

“Hello?” “What is it?” “Didn’t we break up already? Why are you still calling me?” ”You’re freaking weird. Why are you apologizing all of a sudden?” 

During your phone conversation, Jaehyun cast a rather wary glance at you before dragging his eyes back to the road. 

“Alright… I’m not mad anymore…” 

Upon listening to whatever you’re saying, though piece by piece, it sounded like you’re back together and things would be great again. After all, it was just the typical bickering between a couple. 

With a final assurance to your not-an-‘ex’-anymore that all was well and you really weren’t mad anymore, the call ended. Just as if reading your mind, Jaehyun shook his head in disbelief while you only grin at him sheepishly. At least the rest of the hangout could be enjoyed with none of pouting and sulking, you thought. 

Another six months

Jaehyun’s phone alerted him to a text, it was frank 

I’m getting engaged soon

Will hand over the invitation card when we meet next time

Two sentences of such simple words—as something bound to be, and bound to happen. Yet it left an impact on him. He swallowed to alleviate the tightening in his throat, but the feeling followed him, peaking and then fading, falling as petals fluttering from a dying bloom. For a second prior, he was really, truly happy for you. 

Somewhere on the other side, you felt a tremendous emotional effect after clicking your phone shut following the message delivered. Something ran over your head, and maddeningly ran through again and again. What was wrong? 

In a disoriented state of mind, you began rummaging through drawers and cabinets until you found the box you wanted. You pulled it out and opened it, revealing a stack of picture squares, a two carrot ring, and finally a limited edition Hamburglar figurine that both you and Jaehyun were lucky enough to redeem. The set of eyes stared dumbly at you as you silently gazed at the little thing that managed to hold such fond memories. 

Meanwhile, Jaehyun had always had the figurine with him, laid on his workstation somewhere visible so that he continued to be reminded by it. Too, he was fixated on the pair of acrylic painted eyes in remembrance of the past. 

The day before 30th 

Jaehyun had been waiting for you inside a cafe situated a block from the deadly intersection, sipping on a glass of iced latte, though the weather was nothing sort of a torrid summer. 

Upon agreeing to the meet up, he had sorted everything out in his mind and promised himself to confront you with a good-natured congratulation on your marriage none other than a dear friend should. 

Less than ten minutes later, you appeared on the other side of the glass, waving and smiling brightly. Pitter-patter of the rain drops hitting your umbrella steadily intensify as did something else… 

“Hi,” he greeted with a dimpled grin, and then wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, a smear of coffee on his chin when you snatched up his glass and took a long swallow. Again, he said nothing about your behavior that he had gotten used to, only glaring at you with the ever same expression of This girl! She’ll be the death of me. 

“Invitation card,” he said, reminding you what all this was about in the first place. 

But so nonchalantly, you uttered, “We broke up.” 

Your eyes caught the slight lift in the right corner of his lips, Jaehyun unable to stop a small smile from making it onto his face. Simultaneously, his brows raised in surprise. 

“You didn’t cry?”

Almost proud of yourself, “No.” 

“Lies.”

“Really,” you continued with the realization of the fact that, “Liking and loving someone is different.” 

Jaehyun convinced himself, to the bone, that you’re okay. Assimilating that you’d indeed matured to understand how relationship works instead of diving in blindly on the spur of the moment by acting upon emotional states like a teenage girl in love. Emotion comes and goes, rises and falls. Certainly, love doesn’t last forever. But the foundation of love is commitment, and he wished you’d learned that as well because… 

“Do you remember what day it is tomorrow?” your calm voice interrupted his chain of thoughts, as you stared at him in anticipation. 

“Of course I do. It’s your 30th birthday tomorrow.” 

Grinning and beaming with unbridled glee, for once you bet on your bold self saying that, “So, you still remembered our promise then.” 

As if he had been waiting for years, thought he was ready, but was somewhat embarrassed and gave you a warm, shy smile. The once dying bloom came back to life, thriving, lush and flourishing. The pent up feeling on that one, great heart, burst forth in an uncontrollable, deafening shout. 

“Tell me,” you coaxed his trigger to give his word of honour. 

“If you’re still single at thirty…” Nervously, he gulped and avoiding your intent eyes. “I’ll have to marry you.”

“You must keep your promise, Jung Jaehyun.” 

[dreamcatcherjiah]

💞Tight Hearts (Idol!Hoseok x Reader)

Plot: The red string of fate was visible when our grandparents were children. They would play around, following the strings from one person to their soulmate and laugh happily when these two people inevitably found each other. It was a reason for happiness. But little by little, people stopped seeing the threads. In bad times, it was dangerous, it was a liability, so people stopped seeing them to protect each other from harm. When I was born, nobody saw them anymore, they just felt their soulmate. Anxiety, happiness, sorrow, love, the hearts of the soulmates are one, feel the same things, but it is almost impossible to find your soulmate, now that the threads cannot be seen.

Tight Hearts Masterlist

TEASER #1

Listen my child. When grandma was little, the world looked red. It was so beautiful, my Hoseokie you wouldn’t believe it. Every person could see the red strings tied to our pinky fingers, the strings that your grandpa and I used to share.

We ran and ran, from the girl in the flowery dress that helped her mother in the restaurant, to the young soldier who just came back home after many years, from the school teacher to the florist! All the children followed those red splashes of colour from one lover to the other, it was our favourite pass-time.

I remember as if it was yesterday, I was going back home with my little brother in my arms, my mother was working and I had to help out at home. The chorus of children’s laughter could be heard ahead, but they were such happy times, that was nothing out of the usual. What was out of the usual was the dirty young boy who stood in front of me out of breath, he looked like he had been running for hours all sweaty and tired. But then he lifted his pinky and, oh my God, my love. His finger and mine were connected with the thinnest red thread you could imagine. That day remains to be the happiest of my life…

“What happened then Grandma? And why can’t I see the red thingy? If it is so pretty, why can’t I see it?” interrupted her little boy, named Hoseok. He was an impatient little thing, thought his grandmother. Full of energy to burst.

I’m getting there, I’m getting there, love. Where was I? Yes, your grandfather. You could say we lived happily ever after, if you don’t count what happened later. We married young, had your father and his siblings, and settled into a quiet nice life.

Not long after bad things started happening. It was dangerous to go out on the street and many people went missing. What would you do, little one, if someone wanted to hurt the person you love the most in this world and they could find them just following your thread?

“I WOULD CUT IT!!” Shouted the little boy indignant.

But that would be very very bad!! You see, if you cut it, you won’t be able to find your soulmate. That person that was made for you, created with you in mind just as you were created to fit next to them. A life without a soulmate is a sad life. That’s why the world is so gloomy lately. No, don’t interrupt sweetheart, I’m getting there. If you cut the Red String of Fate, you will be very sad and lonely for the rest of your life. People don’t want to be sad and lonely, so they did something different. No one knows how it happened, but little by little, the threads began fading and eventually disappeared. No one forced them, no one touched them but we could no longer see them. Some people say they were severed… Cut, Hoseokie, it means cut… Others believe that they are still tied to our pinkies, but they are invisible. But I think something different.

You know, love, you were very little when your grandfather died, weren’t you? Yes, yes, you’re a big boy now. But back then, you couldn’t remember. You see, when your grandad passed away, grandma felt like her heart was being pulled at from all sides, and then squeezed so, so tight. It wasn’t normal and the doctors only said that it was a broken heart.

That got me thinking, little one. It was a broken heart, in a way. What if the threads, on their need to protect the lovers quickly, had run away and nested themselves around our hearts? That would explain why we feel what our soulmate feels, those are the heartstrings tugging at our own heart, to bring us closer to our soulmate. So when our soulmate dies, and there is no one to run to, the strings don’t know how to continue and they just hurt the heart…

“That’s why my chest hurts sometimes? Because my s-seo-soulmate is trying to bring me to them? But grandma that hurts!! They are bad!!”

No, Hoseok. Never say that your soulmate is trying to hurt you. They love you with all their heart. What you feel is what that person is feeling. When emotions are too strong, that they can’t keep them on check, the emotions come running to you so that your soulmate doesn’t feel so sad. Do you understand? It is a shared burden. They also feel your emotions when you feel frustrated or so, so happy you might burst.

Remember this in the future, my dear child. The soulmate connection is something so special, so beautiful. Many people don’t find their soulmate anymore, because they can’t see the threads that tie them together. People become desperate, ‘If I can’t see the thread, maybe this would be the right one’ they think. But Hoseok, you’re a special one. Listen to grandma, boy. When you feel your heartstrings tugging, when you feel your soulmate, never give up. Grandma is sure you will find them. You are a determined boy, even if a bit impatient, you’ll have to wait a bit still, my boy. One day, your soulmate will come to you, and you will be the happiest person on earth.

And then, you will remember this conversation, and the stories grandma will tell you, and you will know that it was all true. Now, don’t you pout like that! Will you wait for your special person?

“Yes, grandma! I will!”

A/n: Here is the first teaser of Tight Hearts!! I hope you guys liked it!! Let’s chat!!

Send me an ask if you want to be added to the tag list.

Love 💜🌙

Tag list: _OPEN_

[grelrik-da-bozz]

starco, something to think about...

Ok, so it has been almost a whole week and I’ve been celebrating about this ‘final’ they brought to the horrible curse that was cast on Marco and star almost 4 years ago.

It really is good to see that the one most affected by the curse (Marco) is finally free of that... disgusting situation he was in, but since we are talking about Disney, and considering what we have seen during the third season there is a huge possibility that they will spoil everything and come with a “we loved each other before the curse” scenario, even though there were no signs at all (specially from Marco) that there was anything but friendship between them.

Now about this bad transition we have three direct responsables!

The first one being the curse of the bloodmoon itself as it was the direct thing to affect Marco's personality and interfer with his decisions after being cast on both Marco and star, they both acted differently, slightly at first and almost unnoticeable on star but on Marco it was... quite obvious specially in season 3! But there were times in season 2 when you were all like “wtf? why did he do that?” Running with scissors is a good example. Follow me on this ok? Marco decides he doesn’t want to return back home as he has a different life in Hekapoo’s dimension (making star useless as now the one who has his attention in the ‘adventure cool section’ is H-poo) but then star asks him “What about your parents or your friends... or... me?” we see Marco do something quite particular... that in this last episode (Curse of the Bloodmoon) had a special sound and now everything is different! Marco had decided already, he was a 31 years old man, had made up his mind, but the curse forced him to change it. And I honestly hated that part of the episode! How come star decided to casually forget mentioning Jackie She should have said “What about your parents or your friends... or... Jackie... or me?” (some people have argued that star had feelings towards Marco before the bloodmoon but most of them base that presumption on the book*).

Now, the second direct responsable is star, for not accepting Marco's advice when she decided to go see what Tom had prepared for that party, even though Marco had already been right many times before about things related to the outcome of how bad everything could be if she continued using magic, doing what she considered right, following her own ideas, etc. and that only because of the Mary sue powers they ended up a-okay. (Honestly she should have at least said "Marco has already been right sometimes I should listen to him this one time, I mean, he is my friend.”) But no, she didn't, and do you wanna know why she didn’t listen to him? Because star is a strong independent “warrior” princess and that makes it all fine, right? I mean as long as a girl says that she is a strong and independent woman it doesn’t matter how much damage she broughts to anyone, we have to see it as positive. So yeah, sarcasm aside, a huge chunk of responsability falls on her shoulders**.

Finally the third responsable for how badly the curse developed are both “the plot” and Daron & the team that helped her, we all have heard some couple of things about the show, starting from the fact that Daron was already quite sure of how she wanted the show to be, she had more or less worked on it in her head since she was... how old 14? 13? More or less a teen age for sure, and therefore had been munching on that bone every once in a while for the last 15 years! Also is worthy mentioning that she said a couple of times that she had changed things during the course of the years but the idea was there, as solid as it could be and with steps she wanted to follow, now, following her trajectory so far and knowing a couple of her works we know she, for some reason, liked to add some drama in her stories***. And also she seems to be more or less on board the “social/genres/let’s-break-the-stereotypes train” although that could also be Sabrina Cotungo, who, by the way, got promoted to director for Season 3 (promoted might be a bad term as what actually happened is that the other two guys in charge of directing the show in Season 1 & 2 left after they finished), therefore took care of some of the importante decisions for the third season and apparently is the one to blame for it to be so... shity, Now I wonder if she was in charge of the story boards in the episodes where there was social drama issues...  Anyway, returning to the topic of blamming the horrible development of the bloodcurse and the third group of responsables, Daron (as far as we can asume) had this idea of Marco being a really tough subject for star when love was in the middle, I wouldn’t be surprised if she actually had planned for her to fall in love with Marco but that she would also suffer about it cause he had eyes for other girl! The thing is they developed in more than one episode the story for that to happen, they made Marco a really brilliant co-protagonist and many felt quite nice with him finally getting to get the chick he wanted, many out there celebrated it, of course there were also starco-fans who hated it, but the thing is we can’t deny the way they two got together was good! ponyhead helped Marco and Jackie to break the ice, to finally have him telling her she was his crush, accidentally of course but she did, star helped as well, but at the end of the episode we had a strong hint that she liked Marco, that was only a hint, something that star had not really gave her mind too much time to think about, she wrote in her diary something about Marco, how she felt about him and didn’t want him to read it because obviosly she probably wrote that she felt something strange, like butterflies in her stomach when seeing him. She was more or less oblivious to how strong her feelings where and I feel like the real issue here is that star was never meant to end with Marco, I feel that Daron wanted her to suffer a little for Marco and then turn the page, to return back to Mewni and continue her life, sad, angry with herself, but ready to give her heart another chance to find a good guy to love.

*: For those out there who don’t know about it, every cartoon of the last decade (perhaps even a little more than a decade) has done some thing(s) like that before, bringing something special or that expands the lore and that exist only in a type of merchandise that you have to buy in order to read and know. MLP, Adventure time, etc. It’s not something “new” that SVTFOE has and in all of those mentioned cases they had been clear about one thing: the book/magazine/comic IS CANON but it is a SEPARATE CANON, they are not interconnected, even if the author says so. Lauren Faust for example! She had said before some things about specific ponies, ideas she had or things she had planned for some moment in the story... but the show has pointed at other direction. So yeah, we can respect the book but we can’t really take it as 100% interconnected canon. **Ok, I have to point something else about this star issue, yes, she is not the only one responsable, some could argue that Tom is the ‘main responsable’ there, but to anyone other there wanting to say that I’d like to know your answer to this: Did Tom plan involved star and Marco dancing? The answer is a huge NO, yeah he is the one who wanted to dance with star, something bad cause he would have never told her that her sudden change on feeling about him was due to the curse, but it was something he had thought for what he believed was the best, he had never thought about Marco being his friend at the time nor did he planned for them to have their souls linked. And,  as people suggest star was already a little bit in love with Marco before the curse so, that would explain why those feelings were slowly increasing in her heart for the latino boy, but then there is a little something I wanna talk about.  Star managed to finally overcome her crush on Marco and decided she wanted to start dating Tom once again, after she tried to dress him like Marco, overcame her addiction to his musk, etc. She returned his hoodie and closed the portal... they could have ended it right there, Marco could have returned just casually and for some episodes, fighting Meteora and stuff. ***About the drama that Daron had done in some other projects she did before SVTFOE, we have at least a couple which are the most well-known ones. There is this short animated thingy where the girl is captured by some folks, they take her away and her “boyfriend/husband/lover/whatever” takes it on his shoulders to go and rescue her, when he arrives and is all ready to break the ‘bad guy’ it is revealed it actually is a Bad girl, a MILFy looking bad girl who acts all sassy with him and in a matter of seconds they are kissing right there in front of the “princess”. The short clearly points to the idea of “hey girls, never expect a boy to free you from a dangerous situation, free yourself and punch his face because you are strong and independent”… you probably understand my point, is not a bad lesson but I feel some other Disney princesses did it a lot, lot better. So anyway, the idea is clear, the ‘main character’ who casually  looks quite similar to star. The second short I remember is this one  where this girl is cutting with scissors some pieces of cloth that other two girls pass her, to work, she is pretty much daydreaming and ends up being fired, her dreams are all like stuff from the 70s you know, way too colorful and stuff (this short is all drawn in black and white) which is fine, but the design and others… makes it feel odd. (Personal opinion). The third one is probably the most famous one, this young girl leaves her house after her older sister tells her to stay away while she sees the pictures of her ex, which seems to be dating someone else, the young girl (has a lizard as her pet, she talks and hears the pet talk) enters a pub and drinks some beverage she steals and has some kind of alusination and gets scared, fortunately the older sister’s ex recognizes her and acts as if he had been looking for her to help her out of the situation, taking her back home and… that’s it. As you can see two of these three shorts have things in common, a protagonist daydreaming with what seems to be ‘magic in her imagination’ which is what we know star was going to do  (she didn’t have magic, they suggested Daron to make the magic real minutes before she presented the story board for the pilot)  and secondly there is some naughty thing going on as both the blonde princess and the older sister seem to “like” their couple/ex while they are kissing/dating someone else.

[mariequitecontrarie]

People Will Talk: Part 2

Summary: Atticus Gold and newcomer Belle French have developed a relationship no one in Storybrooke approves of, and people make their opinion known in small-minded, small-town fashion: he’s too old for her, and the pretty young librarian needs to find friends her own age. When Gold ends the relationship to protect Belle’s reputation, the town turns on him again. To make matters worse, his friends and family are mad at him, too. But as we all know, love wins in the end. Chapter Summary: Gold hasn't seen Belle in two weeks and Alice is not happy with him. Belle gets an unpleasant surprise. Rating / Word Count: T / 3000  A/N: Continuing Marie’s Three-Year Writing Anniversary Rumor/Assumed Fake Dating/Family AU that no one asked for. @maplesyrupao3 -- bless you!

On AO3

Part 1 on AO3 | Part 1 on Tumblr

Two Weeks Later

“Alice, why are you looking at me like that?”

Gold held his breath and waited, cursing himself for asking. He was guaranteed not to like the answer, but anything was better than the silent treatment.

Alice stopped dusting the cabinet of china dolls to fix him with another poisonous glare. “Because you’re a horse’s ass who has more money than brains.”

“Noted. Can you at least keep up with your duties while you insult me? Time is still money, dearie, even here in the barnyard.” Squabbling, at least, was familiar territory.

Gold waved a hand around the tidy pawnshop, wondering who worked for whom. He owned the store, but Alice called the shots. Sometimes it seemed like his only job was bankrolling Alice’s Amazon Prime spending sprees while she worked her way through Storybrooke College.

The only person he knew who shopped more than Alice was...no, he wasn’t going there.

Still glowering at him like he was something she scraped from the bottom of her shoe, Alice worked her way around the perimeter of the shop with her feather duster. He had to admit she did keep the cobwebs at bay and his stockroom organized, even if she annoyed the hell out of him in the process.

He glanced at the restored cuckoo clock on the wall. It was almost lunchtime, and Alice had been scowling at him since she’d shown up for work this morning. Trying to ignore her, he eased behind the counter and opened the books.

She fell silent for a short, precious moment, then slapped her hands on the countertop.“Ha! I know what your problem is. You’re in a foul temper because you haven’t seen your sweetheart. Belle hasn’t popped in for two weeks. What’s wrong? Lovers’ quarrel?”

“Beg pardon?” he asked, pretending to study his ledgers.

Feigning ignorance never worked on Alice. So like a Jones. Stubborn and mouthy, just like her father. She continued to bore holes into the top of his head, muttering to herself about how he was apologizing to the wrong person until he looked up with a long-suffering sigh.

Talking, talking. Why was the girl always talking? An ocular migraine threatened to form, sharp and urgent above his nose. Tiny sparks exploded in his peripheral vision, and he pressed his fingers against his forehead.

He supposed he could send his little conscience home from work to get her out of his way, but she was more than an employee—she was his goddaughter—and he’d promised Hook he would keep tabs on Alice while he was at sea. Killian “Hook” Jones’ career as a Naval officer meant lengthy tours of duty up to six months, and he knew Alice and her papa missed each other dreadfully while he was away. Guilt poked his conscience; he hadn’t emailed Hook with an update in at least two weeks. But he knew his oldest (and only) friend would question him about Belle, and he was neither willing to lie nor ready to confide. Besides, he reasoned, Alice could text her papa anytime she wanted with her smartphone thingy.

“If you’re not going to work, why don’t you study?” he murmured, trying to concentrate on his July sales numbers. “Isn’t there a women’s lit paper due tomorrow or something?”

“Books!” she shouted, making him jump. “That’s it! Why don’t you take these books back to the library for me?”

Alice plopped a pile of novels on top of the financials, jarring him from his thoughts. He pinched the bridge of his nose hard. Now he would have to rework the column of numbers all over again.

“I was hoping to get advice from Belle on a dress for my date with Robin on Friday, but this’ll give you an excuse to see her instead.” Alice grinned, delighted with her solution.

He shoved the books aside with a huff. “I’m not looking for an excuse.”

“Why the hell not?” Abandoning the pretense of working entirely, she dropped the feather duster on the floor and hoisted herself up on top of the counter.

He set his teeth on edge. “Belle and I aren’t friends anymore.”

“Friends?” She smirked. “If you’re friends, then I’m straight. Hate to break it to you, Uncle Atty, but you two have never been friends. She’s in love with you! And you love her, too.”

“What makes you say so?” he asked carefully, looking at his nails.

“Oh, I don’t know. The dark circles under your eyes. The constipated look on your face. You look like a saggy, twitchy, miserable old man.” She held up a brown paper bag. “Want a sandwich?”

He turned around, assessing his appearance in the antique mirror that hung on the wall behind the cash register. “I am a saggy, twitchy, miserable old man,” he snapped. “And no, I’m not hungry.”

“When Belle’s around, you look all soft and floppy and happy, like Rabbit does whenever I come home.” Alice smiled another cheeky grin.

He smiled back at her in spite of himself. “Well, I’ve been called worse, dearie, but If you’re expecting to bring me to heel like that stupid old dog of yours, it’ll be a cold day in hell.” He slammed the ledger closed and headed for the workroom. The girl trailed after him, still clutching her paper sack.

“I have egg salad,” she teased, shaking the bag. “Your favorite.”

It used to be. He shuddered, his stomach lurching. Eggs were a definite no. Now whenever he saw any sort of egg concoction, he thought of Belle’s pinched, white face on that hot July afternoon thirteen days ago when he ended their friendship. Not that he was counting the days since they’d been apart.

“I don’t eat eggs anymore,” he said. “Too much cholesterol.” No one knew his house had been egged besides Belle, and he wasn’t going to whine about it to Alice. He still had some pride. “You don’t like eggs, you don’t like Belle.” Alice spread her hands wide and twirled in a circle. “What do you like, Sam-I-Am?”

He pulled a face. “Peace and quiet. Both seem to be in short supply.”

Laughing at his sour expression, she plopped down on one of the stools at the work table and dangled her sandwich in front of his nose. “How about marmalade? I’ll trade ya.”

Alice was volunteering to eat the egg salad and offering her favorite lunch. Things really were as bad as they seemed, then. “Fine.”

Resigned, he sat down beside her, accepting half of the sandwich. He took a small bite to stop her prattling, but he had no appetite. Food had no flavor, the whole world drained of color and light without Belle. He missed her; her laughter, her touches, her insatiable appetite for stuffed crust pizza.

“Eat,” Alice insisted, clucking over him like a little mama.

He swallowed the bite of sandwich and forced himself to take another. “So, did you choose a dress for your date?” he asked, attempting both to change the subject and rejoin the land of the living. “Where are you and Robin going?”

“It’s just Tony’s.” Alice shrugged like the occasion was no big deal, and took a massive bite of her sandwich.

A six month anniversary is an important milestone.” He took out his pocket square and folded it into a perfect crown, trying not to be hurt that she hadn’t asked his advice. “Your father wouldn’t know style if it bit him on the arse, but I know my way around a clothing boutique.”

“I know,” she said around a mouthful of egg salad. “But I was kinda wanting the opinion of another woman. No offense.”

‘Another woman’ meant Belle. He cleared his throat. “None taken.” Not for the first time he was reminded that walking away from Belle didn’t only affect him. Alice looked up to Belle like an older sister, and he hoped his relationship failings weren’t driving a wedge between Alice and Belle, too.

Poking at the crust on his sandwich, he wondered what Belle was doing right now. She was probably balancing a book on her lap while she ate, dropping sandwich crumbs between the pages and... no. Gold mentally slapped himself. Cutting a person out of your life meant giving up the right to wonder.

Alice polished off the first half of her sandwich and started on the second. “Belle was at Granny’s the other night,” she offered slyly, employing her uncanny knack for reading his mind.

He choked on the sticky bit of bread in his mouth. “Oh? With anyone?” Ugh . When it came to the people he cared about, he was terrible at nonchalance.

“Yeah. Tall bloke with sparkling blue eyes and a strong, lean jaw.” She batted her eyelashes. “Didn’t recognize him, but it looked like a date.”

Date? Belle had gone on a date? He would find out who the bastard was and he would crush his windpipe with his cane. Gold looked down at his hands. They were coated in marmalade, the mangled sandwich crushed between his palms.

“Way to play it cool, Uncle Atty.” Alice smirked and he rose to wash his sticky hands. “I’m kidding. But I wouldn’t have made a joke if I knew you were this upset. Belle was at a booth with some other people. Ruby, Mulan, and Mary Margaret. Waved at me once, but she was picking at her food and staring at the wall whenever I tried to catch her eye. It’s obvious she’s missing you. Can’t you fix this?”

“I couldn’t possibly be intelligent enough to do that,” he said, grateful sarcasm was there to cover his relief at Belle not being on a date after all.

“Mmm, I see.” Alice rolled her eyes. “She’s the first woman who saw through your little act, isn’t she? Now you’re grouchy because you’ve gone and screwed up the best thing in your life because some Granny, Marco, and some other ignorant busybodies have their noses out of joint. Since when are you afraid of them, anyway?”

“Afraid? Ha!” He flashed his gold tooth in a warning snarl. This conversation was ridiculous.

“Cripes, this place can be so backward. Even the clock doesn’t move here.” Alice gestured down the street toward the clock tower, which had been stuck at 8:15 for twenty years. “I’d say we’re living in a land time forgot, but it’s been a common practice in most societies for younger women and older men to marry for generations.”

“Marry?” He sputtered. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Obviously not you!”

He crossed his arms and grunted. “Reverse psychology doesn’t work on me, child. I used to change your nappies.”

“That’s right, you did. So why are you pretending I don’t know you?” She swallowed the rest of her sandwich in a gulp and chased it with half a can of Dr. Pepper soda. “People whisper all sorts of wicked things about me. Some of them are true and some of them are outright lies. We’re alike in that way, you and I. So what? If I paid attention to what everyone said, I’d never leave the house.”

“I know, honey.” He smoothed his hands over the smooth grain of the worktable, ashamed of himself. Alice had more than her share of bad days, days when she couldn’t come into work. Times when she came to the shop and wandered around as though in a dream, trailing her fingers through cabinets coated in dust, a faraway look in her eyes. What he suffered was nothing in comparison, and yet he couldn’t seem to ignore the thick fog of prejudice and judgment that suffocated him whenever he was with Belle.

“People talk no matter what we do; doesn’t mean we have to listen.” She patted his shoulder. “You sure as hell don’t listen to me, and I talk your head off every damn day.”

He gave her a fond smile and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t remind me.”

Day after day of pretending she was fine was exhausting, but Belle had been doing a fair job of holding herself together since Gold had unceremoniously dumped her on his front porch. She wasn’t sure it counted as a dump if you only fantasized you were a couple, but according to the ache in her chest, it was real.

The busier the day, the better. If she kept moving from task to task, she could ignore her shattered heart. She showed up for her library shifts without fail, she checked books in and out, and chattered with people about their lives. Today she had even helped several eleventh graders with their Marie Antoinette biographies. Staying busy was working until the last hour of the day when the flow of patrons slowed to a trickle and she sat down at her desk to open the mail.

She quickly sorted through the typical bills, catalogs, and overdue fine payments, arranging them into piles. A plain, clean white envelope addressed directly to her stood out from the rest of the mail, and she saved it for last. There was no return address, but the faint scent of antiseptic clung to the crisp envelope.

Belle ripped the envelope open and a drawing sketched on a piece of ruled notebook paper floated to the floor. What she saw made her bite down on her lip hard, the metallic tang of blood filling her mouth. It was a crude illustration, but she could make out the Beast from the movie Beauty and the Beast , drawn wrinkled and old, wearing a suit and tie and clenching a cane in his gnarled claw. He was ogling a young woman who was reading a book. The woman wore a version of movie Belle’s famous golden dress, but the skirt barely grazed her thigh and the bodice dipped all the way to her navel. Clearly, the image was meant to be of her and Gold.

She stared down at the crude representation, then crumpled it in her fist. It was a cheap attempt at an insult, drawing her to look like some sort of slutty temptress and Gold as a dirty old man. Rage ripped through her in a white-hot streak, and her mind narrowed to a singular purpose: finding out who had done this. Tonight.

Belle shot to her feet, knocking over her chair.

Granny’s Diner was the social hub of Storybrooke, and the best place to get to the bottom of nonsense, but she was far too impatient to wait until the library closed. She chased the last few stragglers out of the library and slammed the door behind her, jamming the key in the lock with shaking hands until it clicked. With frayed nerves, she stomped all the way to Granny’s, the drawing clutched in her closed fist. The early August evening air was warm and humid, and sweat trickled down her back as she marched down Main Street. While she hurried down the sidewalk, she tried to puzzle out who had drawn and sent the picture and why. Rumors and innuendo aside, there was something perplexing about caring so much for Gold and yet holding physical evidence that other people couldn’t see the tender, handsome man she knew.

Small towns produced small minds.

The tables at Granny’s were packed. It was Thursday during dinner rush—the most popular night—and people clustered inside the front door and on the patio outside, waiting for the chance to sit down. All the barstools were occupied, platters and baskets of food sitting in front of every person. Good. Belle wanted a large audience for what she was about to do.

She toed off her heels and climbed up on the counter. Mr. Clark from the pharmacy stared at her in horror, then sneezed and wrapped an arm around an enormous, sauce-covered square of lasagna, drawing it closer for protection. Ruby stood frozen at the cash register, and Ashley Boyd narrowly missed dropping the tray of dirty dishes she was carrying, almost colliding with town psychiatrist Archie Hopper as she narrowly saved the plates from slipping to the floor.

Behind the counter, Granny made an outraged, sputtering noise, the heat of her glare rivaling the sizzling grill. At the moment, it didn’t matter if Granny never sold her another hamburger or slice of chocolate cake for the rest of her life, Belle was getting some answers tonight . She turned around and faced the crowd.

“Who did this?” Belle called out, looking down over the sea of faces. She held up the drawing, still clenched in her shaking fist. The noise continued to drone on around her, the clatter of forks against plates, the townspeople oblivious to anything but their meals and their conversations. “I said who did this?”

“Look, Mommy!” yelled a blonde girl with curly pigtails. “That lady is fifty feet tall!” A hush came over the diner in a languid wave and all eyes turned to stare at Belle standing on the counter. Forks were laid down on plates with a quiet clatter. Time seemed to stand still and no one appeared to so much as breathe.  

“Does anyone want to confess?” she asked, shaking the drawing in her fist and glaring around the restaurant with narrowed eyes.

When no one stepped forward or admitted guilt, she dropped the drawing on the counter and ground it into the tile with her bare heel. “You’re all a bunch of cowards, you know that? Mr. Gold and I are friends, and it’s no one’s business but ours what we do. Your problem isn’t that he’s befriended a woman a few years younger than he is. Your problem is you’re a classless bunch of small-minded prigs.”

Jaws dropped and they gaped at her like fish in an aquarium, then fell back to their eating and chattering as though people stood on top of Granny’s counter raving like lunatics every day of the week.

Her limbs shook with anger, and she caught the sympathetic eyes of Mary Margaret and David Nolan. One minute they were sitting at the counter holding hands and sharing a basket of chicken fingers and the next thing she knew, they were flanking her, standing one on each side, like a pair of orderlies preparing to strap her into a straight jacket and wheel her away.

“Okay, Belle, that’s enough now, honey.” Mary Margaret’s voice was quiet and soothing, and Belle felt her knees begin to give out.

[imaginethatalena]

#47: Loki x Reader

Thanks so much @anhartcuteneon for requesting ❤ I tried to make it as accurate to the movie as possible. if I messed up anything, feel free to tell me so I can fix it. 

Request Part 1: Can u do an imagin that connects with my 1st request? Besides a warrior, ur also an empath. When u sense distress from Thor, u try 2 look 4 him. U disguise urself as 1 of the Grandmaster's guests 2 avoid getting caught. When it's the right time, u try 2 get the codes 4 Thor's room by flirting with a guard who has em, u take action by stealing 'em & run off. U wrestle with him & almost make it, but u get zapped by those thingies on ur neck by Valkyrie & get taken 2 where Korg's rebellion is kept.  Request Part 2: Hey there, I meant to correct something for my other request, but I didn't have anymore room. Instead of reader fighting against a random guard, maybe she could duel against Valkyrie instead of her showing up at the last minute. While she's running off, the guard could try to get some backup, but Valkyrie beats him to it & says she'll take care of it. Just so it could explain why she was able to defeat reader.

Part 1  Part 1 1/2 kinda Part 3 Part 4

You and Loki had been separated from Thor when Hela attacked. She chased you through the Rainbow Bridge and knocked you and Loki into space, sending you careening onto a planet called Sakaar. Thor hadn’t followed you to the planet’s surface, so you could only assume he had made it to Asgard, with or without Hela. You and Loki quickly learned that while on Sakaar, Hela and Thor and Asgard had to be forgotten for awhile if you wanted to survive under the Grandmaster.

While Loki’s silver tongue won him favor with the Grandmaster very quickly, you weren’t as lucky. Loki had been able to convince the Grandmaster to keep you in his company, but he knew you were a fighter. You had fought with everything you had to get free from your restraints instead of smooth talking your way out of the situation like Loki, and he wanted you, an Asgardian warrior, to be his champion. He was the kind of man who always got what he wanted, and Loki feared for your safety.

“We’re dealing with a very dangerous man, Y/N,” Loki had told you. “You must be careful. I don’t want to see you thrown into the gladiator ring to fight and die. The Grandmaster’s champion kills everyone who faces it.”

“How can you be content sitting here making power plays while our home could already be gone?” you had demanded. “Don’t you fear for Asgard? Don’t you worry for Thor?”

“Of course I do, but the only way we’re going to be able to leave is if I win the Grandmaster’s favor and get us a ship out of here.”

You avoided him for awhile after that conversation. You were an empath, which meant you had the ability to tune into people’s emotions. Loki always hated lying to you, so whenever you got the sense he was feeling guilty, you knew he was lying. He wasn’t trying to find a way off the planet. He loved it too much. Every day was a game of politics and lies, and one slip of the tongue could get you thrown into the gladiator ring.

In the time you weren’t talking to Loki, he gave you your space, giving you the freedom to return to him when you were ready. The day you finally sought him out, you found him in the Grandmaster’s most luxurious lounge.

You were about to call out to him, but a familiar voice beat you to it: Thor.

You rushed over to the two brothers, relieved to see that Thor was alive and unharmed. You quickly realized you probably should have kept your distance, because the Grandmaster was there.

“Long time no see, Y/N,” the Grandmaster said, offering you a casual smile. You sensed the same insincerity you always did, the longing he had to make you fight to to the death behind the seemingly unassuming facade.

Loki put a gentle but firm hand on your waist and held you close, angling his body so that he stood a bit between you and the Grandmaster. He didn’t need your abilities to see the Grandmaster for who he was.

“I was just getting caught up on the family drama,” the Grandmaster told you. “It’s all pretty dull, actually, but do you know what isn’t? The Contest of Champions!”

Your body tensed at the mention of the competition, but Loki shook his head down at you, letting you know the Grandmaster wasn’t about to throw you into the ring.

“You see, the Lord of Thunder here is going to fight! Isn’t that great? We’ll finally get to see an Asgardian in action!” the Grandmaster said to you, then to Thor, “Of course, Y/N would have been in the ring already, but I would never do that to a friend’s girlfriend, you know what I mean?”

Loki’s amused smile convinced everyone else, but you knew the truth. Loki would have singlehandedly ended the Contest of Champions if you had been forced to fight. Thor, on the other hand, he would do no such thing for, and you were very angry with him for that.

“We can’t just let him die, Loki!” You had begun pleading with him in your shared chambers that night, trying to convince him to get Thor out of the fight. “You can’t hate him that much!”

“I’ve done everything I can, Y/N,” Loki snapped at you. “I’ve talked with the Grandmaster, and I’ve talked to Thor. The match will happen whether we want it to or not.”

With that you were forced to spectate from the Grandmaster’s personal viewing box at the top of the stadium. You and Loki were there for the reveal of the Incredible Hulk, the Grandmaster’s favorite champion, and made to sit and watch the entire fight. You had gotten a bit overconfident when it looked like Thor had won the battle, sending a smirk the Grandmaster’s way, but he shocked Thor from up in the box, causing him to lose the fight.

As the Grandmaster was leaving, he put a hand on your shoulder and said, “It looks like Asgardians don’t do too well in these kinds of matches, do they? Shame. I would have loved to see a fight where you come out on top.”

You were too busy using your powers to calm Loki’s rage to be angry yourself as the Grandmaster left, squeezing his hand in comfort.

“You’ve told me over and over again not to start a fight with him,” you murmured. “Maybe you should take some of your own advice.”

That night you found that you couldn’t sleep. All you could focus on was Thor’s distress, flooding into you from far away. You could feel his anger, his sadness, his fear, his hopelessness. It was almost too much for you to bear. The next day, instead of allowing him to suffer any longer, you went searching for Thor.

Loki had taught you some basic spells a long time ago, and you used one of them to change your appearance to that of a random guest of the Grandmaster. You couldn’t be too careful on this planet, not with the Grandmaster waiting for an excuse to make you fight.

You let Thor’s emotions guide you to him, discovering him in the champion’s chambers. You couldn’t get to him, though, because there was a guard blocking your way. You knew of only one foolproof way to make any man bend to your will, and that was what you tried on the guard.

“I’ve heard tell of the bravery of the Grandmaster’s guards,” you drawled to one guard, your fingers barely touching his arm, but just enough to manipulate his emotions. He went from stoic to admiring, looking down at you with a goofy grin.

“I am pretty brave,” the guard said proudly.

“I also hear that you know the access codes to free anyone in these rooms,” you said. “Why don’t you give me them?”

The guard pulled a small metal rectangle from his belt with numbers scrawled on it, and you took it from him with a smile. You weren’t out of the clear yet, though.

“What’s going on here?” a voice demanded from down the hall. Shit.

You only knew her as Scrapper 142, but she was the Grandmaster’s favorite scrapper, the one who had brought him the Hulk, and you had every reason to be wary of her. Loki had advised you to stay away from her, and now you had to figure out how to get out of the tricky situation you had put yourself in.

The young woman narrowed her eyes at you sash strode past, stopping to take a good look at you.

“And who might you be?” she asked.

“A spectator from last night,” you said primly, keeping up the pretense that you were the Grandmaster’s guest. “I wanted to see the champion up close.”

The scrapper stepped closer to you and put a hand on your shoulder.

“Now why would I keep Loki’s lover from seeing her friend?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even you could hear the lie.

“Loki should teach you to lie better, Lady Y/N,” the scrapper said, unsheathing her sword. You unsheathed the daggers at your sides, wishing you had come better prepared.

“Do you want backup, 142?” The guard asked. Your influence had worn off quickly, and now he stood behind her, ready to fight.

“I can handle her,” the scrapper said with a smile, and with that she made the first move.

You deflected every hit from her sword, nearly losing your hand to her blade every time. She tried to back you into a corner, but eventually you were able to out maneuver her and run for it.

“She’s getting away!” the guard exclaimed.

“I’ll take care of it,” she said, and held up the little control box for the tasers the scrappers used. Before you knew what was happening, you had collapsed to the floor in convulsions, shocks wracking your body as your illusion disappeared. She had put a taser on your shoulder when you weren’t paying attention. You weren’t even aware you had blacked out until you woke up in a filthy, curved hallway, with a man who seemed to be made of rocks standing in front of you.

“Hello! I’m Korg, and this is Miek,” he said with a wave, the small ball of muscle with blades for arms also waving. “Are you our new Doug?”

“Oh no,” you gasped, too taken aback by your surroundings to say anything to your cellmates. You were with the men and creatures who were slated to fight in the arena. Valkyrie had captured you, and the Grandmaster had taken his opportunity.

I’m sorry, Loki.

“She will not fight in the Contest of Champions!” Loki shouted in the Grandmaster’s throne room. “You gave me your word!”

“As long as she didn’t do anything to step out of line,” the Grandmaster said. “But she went and tried to free your brother or cousin or whatever he is, and my champion! I can’t let that go unpunished, you understand.”

Dammit, Y/N. For the first time in his life, there was nothing Loki could do or say to get what he wanted. There was no way to help you. The Grandmaster had won.

[awed-frog]

This is going to be a mess - I had to erase the original post because the bots just wouldn’t stop coming, so here is how it all started -

And here are your kind requests -

So - thank you for your lovely asks and PMs - here we go. 

(Keep in mind that those moments were hugely embarrassing to me, so you shouldn’t find them funny or anything. They’re tragic stories I’m relating for your moral betterment - that is all.)

1) The ‘The Greeks Made Me Do It’ story

As a bit of background, I was eighteen and had just moved to another city to start my studies. I’d been there for a month, knew literally no one, had no idea where half my classes were and my ideals of switching to a Sophisticated Look and becoming A Lady had miserably failed, which means I was walking around wearing this insanely expensive, Managing Director of the IMF coat plus combat boots and frayed jeans plus a lopsided handmade scarf and 'Marilyn going on Morticia’ lipstick (I worried - a lot - about being the only weirdo and the only unfinished person in the entire town, because that was before I met Hamster Girl and Colour Matching Girl and I spend as much on weed as you do for rent but everything I own is see-through, threadbare or ripped Guy). Plus, I couldn’t speak or understand the local language all that well, and I’d taken to nodding and smiling whatever people said, which generally made me look like an idiot and meant I never knew what was going on. 

(And, yes, it’s tempting and it seems like the easier option, but seriously - don’t do that.) 

All of that means I was more or less living in the university library so I could pretend I had a purpose in life and, well, going from a high school library to a real academic library was like stepping into the Restricted Section - I mean, of course, I read what I was supposed to read, and I lost myself in serious books that had little to do with my actual subjects (that was my Minoan period - I’m sure every Classics student had one), but there were also the - uhm - other books, you know? All those studies about homosexuality in the Greek world, and how Mapplethorpe’s pictures were connected with frescoes of Saint Sebastian, and people having sex with statues and kings trying to trick their young wives into anal and truly lurid collections of Greek art which my high school teacher had once described as ‘Something you should probably have a look at, but if I let you borrow my copy your parents would not be happy with me’. And on that particular day, I had actually devoted my afternoon to a no-nonsense book about Eastern influences in Greek art, and well, the study of lovers and concubines on Greek amphorae was a sort of a plan B to relax a bit between chapters, because I was reading in a foreign language and it was hard work and when you don’t know anyone, it’s like you’re the only one working, right, and everyone else is off to wild parties and poetry lectures and screenings of a Guatemalan movie you never knew existed and that’s depressing af, so yay for weird art - but at around five I realized the day was done and I didn’t want to give the dirty book back because, come on, it wasn’t that dirty and I had a right to read it and it was complemented with passages by Theophrastus and Plato, plus it had come to me via the now defunct goblin-based system of tunnels underground the reading room -

~note - for younger readers, these things~

- so I didn’t want to give it back and go through the hassle of requesting it again, and I remember the fuck it moment that came over me - I was eighteen, I was studying the damn stuff, so I’d borrow the damn book and if the librarians disapproved, well, they could bite me.

(Obviously, they didn’t disapprove. The bored guy at the service desk didn’t even look at me, because nobody looks at you, ever, and your life is your own, so go live it.)

And next, I had to go shopping because there’s only so much time you can survive on cold cereal - and suddenly there I was, in a big and foreign supermarket, a dirty book burning a hole through my old Invicta, my Queen of England coat clashing with everything else I was wearing, and I was moving from aisle to aisle without making eye contact and trying to remember what spices were called in French, and I’d almost made it - I was collecting my mismatched groceries on the other side of the till when the bloody alarm started blaring, and two uniformed guards appeared out of thin air and it was like one of those slow-motion scenes in movies, right, when the dust in the air glimmers like gold and sound is no longer a thing and someone’s talking and everybody is staring and when God pushed the ‘resume normal speed’ button the two men were gesturing and smiling smugly and there was this old lady next to me and she was taking in my luxurious coat and my frayed jeans and putting two and two together - I physically felt her horrified, gleeful gaze on me like scalding water - and Jesus, I could see the headlines in my local paper already ‘Young Promise of Sci-Fi Literature Arrested’ (I was writing fantasy back then, but most normal people don’t seem to know the difference) and there were my parents, okay, my poor parents walking with their heads down as formerly friendly neighbours threw garbage at them and someone would interview my history teacher and he was bound to say, ‘She was something of a strange girl, but I never thought she’d end up in prison’ and next, of course, came the walk of shame in front of all twelve tills, with dozens of proper adults (people with families and eggs in their baskets, women with tasteful lipstick and women with kids and doggies instead of books about dead prostitutes) staring at me in disapproval, and What has the world come to and I heard that today, young women are as likely to commit crimes as young men and Do you think she’s on drugs? and then I was forced into the Small Room of Humiliation and asked to please empty my bag, so out came the frosting I was planning to eat raw and the crown of garlic I’d bought because it looked pretty and had no intention of ever using and a giant-ass bag of rice and as I looked on, horrified, I realized nothing made sense with anything and even those burly, middle-aged men could see that just fine - but, well, every single horrifying, meaningless item was on the receipt, so they had me empty my pockets (one condom, safety pins, a Swiss knife, an IKEA pencil and a very smooth and round rock, God have mercy on me) and next we all looked at one another like, What now? and that’s when I truly gave up on rational thinking, okay, because my first instinct is always to be of service, and so I said, in my heavily accented French, ‘The library book has a barcode, maybe that’s the problem?’ and of course, they hadn’t really looked at the book yet - it was face down on the formica table, looking all prim and innocent in its unassuming dark blue cover, but when the older man picked it up with his bear paw, I suddenly realized the front of it was quite different - I sat there and saw his eyebrows disappear into his hairline as he took in the big-ass picture (a painting of a woman fellating a much younger man) and the title (something along the lines of, THE JOYLESS SEX - TALES OF THE PLEASURE WOMEN, in all capitals, because books about Greek art don’t sell all that well, so anything to do with sex is pimped up to trick the unsuspecting general audience into giving it a shot) and of course he had to open it, because that’s how humans are wired, okay, and the thing right in the middle was a goat-like creature doing unspeakable things with two women and every single cell in my body wanted to explode and disappear and shout ‘IT’S MANDATORY READING FOR THIS CLASS I’M TAKING’, which was a lie, anyway, and I couldn’t get the words out and I couldn’t look up and I couldn’t look away - after a few excruciating minutes (seconds? hours?), the guy scanned the book on his barcode machine and yep, that’s when we all learned that library books respond to the same anti-theft thingies that pick up on stolen wine and cookies and fine cheeses, and Sorry, miss, and You have a good evening, now, and he was extremely uncreepy about it, but it was still hard to find my way out because of the WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOUNG PEOPLE UP THESE DAYS bewilderment that was shining like a beacon around his entire body, so, yeah - that was pretty embarrassing.

2) The ‘A Four-Part Seduction’ story

This actually happened almost one year before my adventure with the scanning machine - I was in my last year of high school, had kissed exactly 1 (one) boy, failed to seduce 3 (three) other boys despite my fox-like cunning and my sunny disposition, and I was now ready to sacrifice everything (well: my sanity and my dignity) for The Boy - a basketball player with a long, horse-like face and zero talent in anything whom for some reason I fancied the pants off.

(Looking back, I think I liked he was quiet and kind, and the age-old problem when you’re attracted to mysteriously self-effacing people is that you’re never quite sure - is there a colourful and occasionally wild ocean behind their silent lips and far-off gaze, or are they not saying anything because an evolutionary mishap converted half their brain into a second spleen, and therefore they were left with the mental capacity of a vivacious Mexican mole lizard? The joy is in finding out.)

Anyway, I have a feeling things haven’t changed all that much, but back then when you were intent on romantic hunting, you usually enlisted the help of your closest friends - people who inevitably were: 

your age 

unexperienced

not very familiar with The Boy and

generally speaking, completely unsuited to hatching a failproof seduction plan of any kind.

On this particular occasion, my advisors were: 

a girl who’d been the better half of a couple for time untold (three months, two weeks and five days) and was thus The Expert

another girl who’d done ‘not it, but almost’ with an unnamed boy she’d met over the summer

a third girl who still didn’t quite understand what ‘it’ meant and 

my only guy friend who was actually in love with me and I only found out about that twenty years later and that was one true what the fuck moment, because then I wondered what else I hadn’t seen when I was a teenager even if it was there in plain sight (like the fact my German teacher preyed on young boys, for instance,but that’s another story).

So, well - part A of The Plan - getting to know him better - had failed miserably, because what can you discuss with someone you only see once a week in French class and you have a monster crush on? I mostly pestered him about homework dates and then stared mutely at his hands as he turned the pages of his school diary and my God, he must have thought I was an anxious, forgetful idiot with absolutely zero life, ‘which means he already knows you better than most people,’ my best friend said consolingly, before trying out her married name signature (Alice DiCaprio) one more time. And as for part B - that had succeeded, but at what cost? Because through a string of sleights of hand and corruption, we’d managed to shift half our classmates around on the seating chart, so I was now sharing a desk with The Boy himself, but so far that had resulted in some awkward staring (mine), a couple of embarrassed smiles (his) and about 50 000 volt of electricity going through my entire body every time his elbow bumped into my arm by mistake (which happened a lot, because he was left-handed and I’m not and we were sitting the wrong way around). 

Now, this had been going on for weeks when the skies suddenly opened above me and the teacher, an I’m frankly disappointed in how everything turned out ‘68 hippy, assigned us a written essay on Victor Hugo and socialism, something that, as an anxious, forgetful idiot with absolutely zero life, I knew quite a lot about. Plus, I was good at French, and that’s how The Boy turned towards me and asked if I’d be willing to help him, his hazel eyes all clear and earnest, shining like stolen jewels on his horse-like face, and being a Cosmo reader, I heard myself laugh throatily and ask, ‘Sure - what will you give me in return?’ and fuck, how do these things happen and why are we not in control of our own bodies and also thank God, because he blinked at me and then said, in a slow voice I read as flirtatious, ‘I’ll buy you a drink’. And that’s how we all entered part C - there were weekly meetings with him in the library to write the essay together, and daily meetings with my girlfriends to analyse everything we’d ever said to each other and I think he was looking at you during break and I saw him blush twice now, he must be sensitive and My sister knows his cousin, I can tell her to ask him if he’s seeing anyone and also long walks by the river with my long-suffering guy friend during which I rambled on and on about how shiny The Boy’s hair was and he contributed to this mind-blowingly fascinating conversation mostly in uhms and grunts.

(Again, how could I have been so stupid? I mean, it was for the best in the end, but - ouch.)

And one windy evening of March, lo and behold, it was finally time for part D (no pun intended) - a bona fide D-A-T-E with The Boy, and possibly there’d be fireworks and he’d say, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for weeks and some tourist would snap a candid photo of us and then marvel at it, years and years later, because Do you ever wonder what happened to this couple, Mabel? Look at how happy and in love and beautiful they are and I’m not saying cover of the National Geographic, but cover of the National Geographic. Also, movies had taught me what was supposed to happen, you know?, 

which is why I borrowed make up and rollers from one of my friends and did a clothes pre-selection with her and then a second selection with my guy friend -

(I remember him sitting cross-legged on my bed and strumming my mom’s guitar as I hid behind the closet door to try on The Makeover Outfit and how his expression barely changed when he saw me in a skirt for the first time - how he said, ‘You look - good. He’s an idiot if he doesn’t go for it,’ and how the music turned into something slow and mournful as I disappeared again to put my jeans back on, and what the hell?)

- and at nine pm, I was ready - I had leveled up and transformed, or so it seemed - gone was the windbreaker, and the crappy Converse, and the overlarge plaid shirt - instead, my hair was curled in the right way and my skirt was short but not too short and I’d even bought a push-up bra which was uncomfortable as hell but Who cares, uh?, who cares? And let’s pretend my make-up was still perfect after biking twenty minutes in the half rain, because when I walked into the bar, some catchy song was on and my brand-new hoop earrings were catching the light just so and I was the Goddess of French and Sex and WITNESS ME and we saw each other at once - he was sitting with his friends, the Popular Good-at-Hockey Guys, and he turned as he heard the door open, as if he’d been expecting me, and he immediately smiled and came towards me and ‘So, what can I get you?’ and of course I ordered wine, because I was Sophisticated and also A Lady and as he pushed his way towards the counter I sat down at the only table for two and subtly (I hope) adjusted my cleavage and crossed my legs and wondered whether I should whip my copy of Rimbaud’s Les Illuminations out of my (well: my mom’s) purse just to make it extra clear I meant business, or if that would be considered impolite - a kind of, ‘You took forever to get me that drink’ reproach - and as I was still trying to decide, he came right back, all perfect and tall and horsey-looking in a grey shirt, and he was carrying my wine and a pint of dark beer and some idiotic voice in my head said, ‘Yes, we’d known each other for months, but I remember the night we truly fell in love - your father used to drink these strong beers, you know, and that evening-’ and before that thought could go anywhere, The Boy was there, at my table - he handed me the wine (our fingers touched) and he said ‘Thanks again, really - I would have been dead without you’ and then - and then he walked away and fucking sat down with his friends again because apparently he was a damn sophist underneath that equine disguise and he’d promised me a drink and now I had a drink and what the fuck? and for the second time that night I considered turning to Rimbaud, but you should never turn to Rimbaud because he was an addict and a killer, so I drained my wine in one gulp, looked around desperately, my vision already fogging over, for someone I could bother - there was no one I really knew, only older people and party people and cool people who were already looking at me weirdly - I shrugged my coat on and waved joyfully at The Boy on my way out and man, it’s been twenty years but sometimes I still wonder at it - I don’t think he wanted to be rude, I’m sure he was like me, awkward and empty-headed and inexperienced, and he now works with snakes in Canada so maybe there was something interesting about him, but after I never go to the movies guy and Do you go to this school? guy and Sorry, I’m looking for someone who’ll choke me during sex guy and - mostly - the ghost music / still not sure he existed for real guy, well - that was a crushing moment and the end of my grand plans and when I started to simply tell guys ‘I like you’ and also follow them home before they could realize what was going on and, whatever, if you’re looking for dating advice, that works much, much better. 

[Thanks again for your messages - if you like my writing, please visit my AO3 page!] 

[axelsagewrites]

Raphael Santiago*Babysitting

Requested by anonymous:

Magnus' daughter when she's like 7 and Raphael babysits for a night and they bond?

Child!Reader X babysitter!Raphael (Platonic)

Masterlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

Magnus had adopted (Y/N), a young warlock when she was 5. She had almost killed her family with her magic which was strong and the family had basically dumped the child on his doorstep. Magnus took her in and for the past 2 years he hadn’t thrown any parties or had her stay over at anyone's house. Yes, he had had drinks and had people over to hang out but he didn’t want to leave (Y/N) behind. Tessa had helped him sometimes with her and stayed over but Magnus was scared to let her out his sight. He was worried her magic might come out and hurt, or kill, someone like it almost did years before. Though after 2 years her magic was better under control and only flared during a tantrum. Magnus still was slightly nervous about leaving (Y/N) with one of his friends so chose not to. Well, until the clave had summoned him. He was to attend Idris for some hearing or trial, he didn’t really care so forgot, and he didn’t want to expose (Y/N) to the cruel shadowhunters. Tessa was also going to the thingy, Catrina was rushed off her feet with being a nurse, Ragnor wasn’t answering his letters and all his other friends were party animals Magnus wouldn’t trust to look after (Y/N). All but one; Raphael Santiago. Magnus knew Raph had had little siblings but he also knew Raphael's personality was cold and sarcastic. Even still he was the last option. It's not that Magnus didn’t trust him, he did, but its that Raphael isn’t someone who looks like they like little kids. He seems like the one to steal their candy. When Magnus phoned Raphael to ask if he was busy he said he wasn’t though he was sceptical when Magnus asked him to come over to his apartment. Reluctantly Raphael went through the portal Magnus sent for him. Magnus had cleaned the apartment, put meals and snacks in the fridge and laid out (Y/N)’s clothes for the next day. The only thing he hadn’t done was told Raph why he was coming over. Raphael stepped through the portal clearing annoyed. “What is it, Magnus?” “I need a favour.” Raphael lifted an eyebrow at that. His gaze was drawn down to Magnus’s legs as (Y/N) stepped nervously out from behind her dad. Raphael knew Magnus had a daughter but hadn’t met her. “Can you look after (Y/N) for the night? The clave called me in.” “Why can't you ask one of your friends?” “Cat’s busy, Tessa’s in Idris and Ragnor has gone off the grid,” Magnus said in one breath. “No, he isn’t. he’s been answering my messages, you're just annoying.” (Y/N) pointed at Raphael and said in a high pitched voice “He’s being mean papa.” (Y/N) faced Raphael and said in the same tone “You’re not allowed to be a meanie beanie!” “Says who?” Magnus shot him a warning look. (Y/N) crossed her arms and walked over to him. “Me. You cant insult, my papa. Or else.” “Or else what?” Raphael crouched down to her level. They stared into each other's eyes for a few seconds. Magnus swallowed the lump in his throat. “Or else Santa won't get you anything for Christmas.” Raphael smiled when she said that. She was so innocent, she still believed in the jolly old fat guy. “You’re right, princessa.” Raphael stood up but (Y/N) wasn’t done. “You need to apologise.” Raphael rolled his eyes and looked at a smirking Magnus. “My apologies, Magnus.” He said in a dead voice. “Better.” She chirped before running off. “Please,” Magnus asked Raphael. He sighed. “Promise you won't bring up my apology again,” Magnus nodded and Raph sighed again. “Fine. But I want to be paid. I want at least 2 more suits out of this. Italian.” “Deal.” Magnus said his goodbyes to (Y/N) and Raphael but before he left through the portal he told Raphael were everything was and to not leave the apartment with (Y/N).  Raphael nodded along, not really listening to him.

After Magnus left Raphael turned to (Y/N) who was sat on the couch staring at the ceiling. “I'm boreeeeed!” She whined. “What do you want to do?” Raphael stood in front of her. It was around 4 o'clock and he didn’t want to have (Y/N) kick off at the beginning of the night. Knowing Magnus he thought (Y/N) would be like him; annoying and dramatic. She thought it over before looking at Raphael with a pleading look. “Your makeup” “Oh, no no no.” “Oh yes yes yes.” She copied. “Please,” She dropped to her knees and clasped her hands together. “I promise to be on my best behaviour if you say yes.” 20 minutes, a lot of glittery makeup and Raphael getting poked in the eye with eyeliner at least 5 times later were they finally done. Raphael’s face was smeared with makeup. It wasn’t horrible but he hated it. (Y/N) wanted him to do her make up so Raphael did it on one condition. She wasn’t allowed to touch his hair. She promptly agreed. Her makeup was even worse than his but (Y/N) assured him she loved it. It was around dinner time at this point so Raphael went to the fridge. The ‘food’ Magnus said he left in the fridge was leftover takeout. Raphael sighed and decided to just make (Y/N) something. (Y/N) wanted to help so for the next hour Raphael taught (Y/N) how to make paella the right way, not phoning it in. After Raphael made (Y/N) help him wash the dishes and clean up. She was bored at first but once Raphael started telling her some old stories his mother had told him she was happy again. After cleaning (Y/N) asked him to teach her to bake as well as cook. Raphael agreed, not realising how wrong it could go. Flour was thrown, eggs were smashed, and cake mix was ate raw but somehow after another long, long hour in the kitchen, the pair sat down to eat the cake that was somehow ok. The kitchen, not so much, so after another hour cleaning the pair collapsed onto the couch to watch crappy kids show. Raphael didn’t admit it but adventure time became his new favourite show after watching it. Around 8 in the evening Raphael got some calls from Lily, saying some fledgelings were having a party and she was done with their crap. Raphael sighed but knew he would have to go investigate. (Y/N) was meant to be going to sleep in an hour so Raph got (Y/N) in her pj’s and got some clothes for tomorrow and told her to pack a bag. He said they were going somewhere to have a sleepover and she squealed to go get ready. He got her different clothes than Magnus had laid out since the ones he had put on her bed were all obnoxiously pink and glittery. Even (Y/N) grimaced at her papa’s choice. Raphael didn’t admit it but he did love clothes. He had a great sense of fashion, in his opinion, so didn’t have an issue picking (Y/N) an outfit. They settled on a black shirt with flowers embroidered on the shoulders, black jeans and a gold bow tie. Raph folded it and placed it in (Y/N)’s backpack which she had shoved some toys and stuff in. Raphael made sure he took out all the makeup from the bag. That reminded him, he quickly went into Magnus’ room and got some wipes. He cleaned him and (Y/N)’s faces and headed off to the Dumort.

Raphael wasn’t worried about the vampires at the Dumort as they all understood not to mess with him. That’s probably why the fledgelings waited till he was gone to mess around. He quickly explained to Lily why (Y/N) was here and got Lily to take her to his room while he dealt with the fledgelings. He came back to his room to find Lily and (Y/N) in face masks with (Y/N) standing behind Lily, braiding her hair. Upon seeing Raphael the girls grinned. Within 10 minutes Raphael was in a face mask and playing some silly games (Y/N) had brought over.

(Y/N) hadn’t wanted to go to sleep. Luckily Raphael had had little siblings so knew how to handle it, unlike Lily who almost pulled out her hair. After half an hour (Y/N) was sleeping in Raphael's bed. He didn’t often sleep in it but it was times like this he had it.

In the morning (Y/N) hung out with Raphael and some vampires who were still up. She loved meeting new people and was only a little shy. Most of the vampires gushed over her and played along with whatever crazy game she was doing. Then again the vampires were also tired so that might be why.

Magnus was frantic when he got home to an empty apartment. He phoned Raphael and his worry turned to relief and anger when he heard where (Y/N) was. Magnus quickly portalled over there and took (Y/N) home. He was worried about Camille being there but Raphael ensured him she was off at her lover's for the weekend. For the next week (Y/N) kept talking about Raphael. It would have been annoying if it wasn’t for the picture (Y/N) showed Magnus. A photo of Raph with his make up done that she had taken when he wasn’t paying attention. After that night Raphael would look after (Y/N) at least once a week. It meant Magnus could go and party again and that (Y/N) could hang out with Raphael and sometimes the vampires. Especially auntie Lily and uncle Raph. Though she didn’t call her auntie Lily for long as within the month (Y/N) developed a crush on her and Raph and Magnus made sure to tease her for it.

[writers-inc]

Just a little thingy

Chapter 1 (beginning of it anyways)

“Where was you?!”

“D-darling I was just at the market-”

“You expect me ta believe that!? No no no, you were with your secret lover, you’re cheating on me! Ain’t I exciting enough for you!? I’ll show you exciting!” A loud smack rang through the large, four roomed, mud hut. A heavy thud shook the floor followed by quiet, feminine sobbing. 

“Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay. I don’ wan’ ta hurt you, you just give me no choice. You know you ain’t supposed ta leave the house without me, and you know that that thing you gave birth ta is never supposed ta think about going outsi’ where people can see it! Think about what they’d say! You’d be a disgrace and a pariah. I’m just tryin’ ta protect you, both of yous.”

The sobbing turned to the occasional quiet hiccup, “I know, I just- she’s our daughter, not some monster.”

Another smack sounded through the hut, “It’s not our daughter! It’s a deamon from Hell! It’s eyes are purple! Purple! There ain’t no way that thing be mine! You done slept with another man! You’re lucky I didn’t snap it’s neck the moment it done clawed its way out your disgusting body! Get up and make my dinner.” Shuffling sounds slowly moved away and the sound of opening cabinets began. “Oh and, it don’t get any.”

A quiet sigh sounded from the black haired young girl sitting on the floor, no more than ten, she was leaning against the wall obscuring her from the main room. Her purple eyes closed as she leaned her head back. Heavy footsteps began moving around the main room, cabinets opening and closing in the background. The girl’s eyes snapped open and she stood quickly, moving as fast as she could to her room; bare feet padding almost silently on the dirt floor. 

‘Mommy only took me out of the house because it’s the tenth suthian of my existence. It’s my fault he’s so upset, I kept asking her!’ she thought, mind working to find a solution to their fighting. 

Before she could, the man's footsteps began to draw closer sending the preteen into a panic. Frantically, she looked around the bare room for a hiding place. Seeing nothing, she instead sat curled up in the corner of her room, head bowed in submission. Her father stopped in the doorway and appraised her.

“Lookin’ like that, you’d almost think you wasn’t a deamon. You’d fool a lesser man, but I ain’t no lesser man. I’m smart, smarter than you and any other creature or woman. And there ain’t nothin’ you gon’ do about it.” A cruel smirk split across his face and he began walking towards her, “Only one thing a female’s good for, pleasin’ a true man.”

As he walked forward, the preteen tried to push herself further into the corner in a fruitless attempt to escape. Her quiet, stuttering sobs only served to make her father laugh and turned his cruel smirk to a cold-blooded grin. As he stopped in front of her and his arm began to extend towards her quivering form, her eyes sliding closed, a loud, echoing knock announced the presence of someone at the front door.

The girls eyes snapping open and she looked up at her father just in time to see a nasty look flash across his mediocre features before being replaced by a deceitful expression of content kindness. “Next time, deamon.” he whispered ominously, his voice a stark contrast to the mask painted liberally across his face. Turning on his heel, the kindly Mr. Mason made his way to the door to greet his guest. With each step, the violence in his posture was tucked away until all that was left by the time he opened the door was his mask of perfect deception.

Smiling pleasingly, he looked outside. Eyes meeting a solid chest, Mr. Mason the Deceiver looked up and into the slivered eyes of a man so breathtakingly handsome the world seemed to stop and all thoughts disappeared until the man broke eye contact to perform an elegant low bow, hand upon his heart.

“My sincerest apologies for intruding upon you at such an hour sir, but I was unable to procure lodgings before the moon arose and I was wondering if a kindly man such as yourself would allow me the privilege of laying my head to rest in your lovely home.” The handsome man’s voice was lightly accented but smooth as silk and hypnotizing.

“Yeah, you can be stayin’ here tonigh’. We don’t got much but I’ll find you somethin’. Come in.” Mr. Masons mask gained a dazed look as he spoke, and he moved out of the doorway to allow the man entry to his home.

“Thank you sir, I truly appreciate your.. sacrifice,” here the handsome man’s eyes flashed briefly with some indescribable emotion that sent shivers down Mr. Masons spine. “Might I ask what that positively delectable smell is?” the man’s eyes were slowly moving in the direction of the young girls room, passing over the kitchen where dinner was being prepared.

Assuming the man was talking about the dinner his wife was preparing, Mr. Mason responded, “I dunno what m’wife’s makin’ tonigh’, but it’ll be as good as it smells.” before subtly muttering under his breath “If she knows what’s good for ‘er.” The man’s enchanting eyes snapped back to Mr. Mason and narrowed slightly, his smile gaining a faintly predatory gleam.

“I’m afraid I haven’t introduced myself, I am Archduke Seilient Deadblood III of Corralisar, but you may call me Seilient. And you?”

“A-archduke? I’m Reig Mason, m’wife’s name’s…. Uh… I’ll letcha meet ‘er.” Seilient’s eyes now held a murderous gleam and the teeth exposed by his smile now seemed somehow sharper and more dangerous.

Moving through the mud hut in silence, Seilient appraised his hosts home; eyes briefly locking onto the few open doorways or windows. As the two men passed the short hallway leading to the bedrooms, Seilient’s footsteps stuttered and he breathed in deeply. With clenched fists he continued forward, his momentary pause fortunately unnoticed by Reig Mason, next on the nights menu.

@geeksparrow -it wouldn’t send over text so I’ve decided to say fuck it and post it. Gimme feedback, you’re my bestie and I trust you not to completely ruin my self esteem.