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A New Friend? || Alex & Drake || xlostdreamersx



It was late spring, approaching summer, and this was clear from the fact that the sun was out and the sky was clear, allowing the day to be warm. This generally meant that everyone started going outside and stuff.

Which is exactly what Alex did. She went outside, most likely to see if she could find a friend or two to hang out with. After all, she was usually inside during the school day.

As she passed through the school’s sports stadium, watching a couple of the guys play a little football, she hadn’t expected the ball to be thrown her way.

Or hit her in the face.

Which was why she was currently sitting on the stairs, her hands over her nose as she glared towards the males on the field.


Gangnam Style (live) MIRRORED

wayoftheknightx-archived  asked:


send me five times kissed for a drabble about five times our muses kissed

It was ironic that he had to comfort her now, when she’d been the one saving him just hours ago. The little prince, at the age of twelve, had disguised himself as a commoner and gone to roam the streets. He wanted to know the world outside of his royal walls. To see and experience the feeling of never being known.

But he was thin and shy and he had wandered too far. It was fine to walk the parks of the artisan district, where the merchant-middle class wouldn’t recognize his face. But he had gone to the outer walls now, in the slums.

It was dangerous there, as evidenced by the gang of orphan thieves– pickpockets who reported to their overseer at the end of each day– who had sneered at him and begun to push him around.

An eight year old little girl, with wild curly hair of gold and dark blue eyes and burned like a kiln fire, had leapt on their leader, pulling his hair and punching his face three times.

“FUCK. YOU. ARCHY!” she had bellowed, and Marx was appalled. Never in his life had hear a child so young, and a girl no less, use such language. “GET. OUT. OF. MY. TURF!”

The orphans had scattered, and Marx was left in the company of the huffing-puffing spitfire. She had one of her front baby teeth lost at the time and dirt smears on her shift dress and face.

Charlotte was her name… and she’d offered to show him around what was considered ‘her turf.’ Her neighborhood, really. Apparently she had taken it on herself to defend the subdivision of tenant houses and decaying cramped apartments from the manipulation and misleadings of the thief gangs. She was tough, to put it lightly.

Which made it all the more surprising when she had burst into tears after tripping on a loose cobble in the street. Her knee got scraped and blood puckered out of it. Huge crocodile tears poured down her little face, and it was the perfect reminder of the fact that she was four years younger than him (even if she could whoop him in a heartbeat).

So Marx had scooped her up to sit in his lap and cooed comforting things, like he did with his own little siblings. “Shhhh…. Shhh, its ok! Its just a scrape, it’s ok–”

“It huuuuuurrrrrrtttsss!” Charlotte sobbed in a high pitched whine. 

“Oh ok, uhm… What if I kiss it?” he offered. “Kisses always make it better!”

“Tha’ only works when Mutti does it!”

“Nu-uh!” he insisted, putting her to the side to he could lean over and peck her swollen little knee a few times. “Works for me too. See? Getting better already.”

Her crying began to fade into sniffles.

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