Hello all! Another... fanfiction... gah... *dies* This was originally an idea for my random-awkward fanfic 'all this to make for a very awkward situation', where all my weird TMI ideas go. But, thanks to a friend of mine and the manga Ramna 1/2, this kind of exploded into a larger idea. Yes... feel free to mock it for its weirdness.
Er... review? :D
The Mortal Instruments is the sole property of Cassandra Claire, and her publishing house. The basic weird idea is shamelessly taken from the fine manga known as Ramna 1/2, and is by no means mine.
Chapter 1: Pining Over Maybelline
Isabelle elbowed her sister, giggling. "It's him again!"
"You better not be—" Alexandra flushed violently when she caught eyes with the near stranger. "Oh God."
It was late Friday night when the two Lightwood girls—Isabelle and her senior by two years Alexandra—had taken to huddling in an obscure corner in Club Pandemonium. Even with the club's less-than-exclusive nature (Alex could spy a handful of goblins downing jello shots not two booths away) they were both dressed to impress; Isabelle flaunting her curves in a "little" black number while Alexandra, being the more conservative of the two, passed off with a blouse and a pair of dress pants. And as usual it was Isabelle who got all the boys to drool while Alex quietly sipped her cherry coke in the background, content in being the sober observer of drunken affairs.
Content, until he showed up.
"Well, go get him!" Isabelle nudged Alex out of the booth, "You've been swooning over him every night he's been here, and I think you two are long overdue for an introduction."
Alex would have loved to do just that, save for one problem: if it weren't for the support of the table, her knees would have most certainly given out. That, and she got so dizzy looking at him she was strongly considering shacking up in the bathroom for the rest of the night. "No… I…" Her stomach did a back flip when, once again, she met those too-attractive-for-her-own-good cat eyes. Cat eyes that immediately shifted over to check out a werewolf in drag. "He wouldn't be interested."
"So he's flaming out of his ass, who cares?" Iz grinned, "For all you know, he could be bi. And, no offense, you're such a tom boy he might think you're a dude anyway."
"I'm still not going."
"Oh, come on!" She slammed her drink to the table, scooting out of the booth and standing. "If you're not going, I am. Sit there and look pretty while I talk you up… or handsome, depending on your angle."
Alex paled. "Wait, Iz, no—!"
But she was off, confidence fueled by two strawberry screwdrivers and gaining half the club's attention with the sharp clicks of her heels along with the exaggerated swing of her backside. Even Alex's warlock—By the angel, the warlock—took his eyes off of a fairy boy in skinny jeans to see what the fuss was about. To Alex's humiliation her sister walked right up to him, snatched a slip of paper from his hand and started up a conversation.
She scooted back into the booth, trying her hardest to keep her attention on her soda. But she couldn't help but peek and every time—every time!—the warlock's eyes were on her. He'd smirk at her, she'd turn red and curse herself for her strange attraction to glitter and hair gel. And Maybelline. Damn you Maybelline. Damn you to hell.
Eventually Iz returned with a paper square and another drink. "Well, I've got good news and bad news."
Alex buried her face in her hands. "He thought I was fourteen, didn't her?"
"Eh, fifteen, and it turns out he doesn't have much of a thing for 'little girls'."
"That's the bad news?"
"That was the good news. Honestly, if he thought you were in junior high and dug it, I'd be running. Fast." Isabelle too a sip from her drink, "Bad news is, he's going home with elf-boy tonight and couldn't pencil you in. He offered this, though." She pushed the paper across the table.
Not that Alex was interested. "I don't want it."
"Of course you do, he's practically giving you a second shot." Peering between her fingers, Alex saw her sister shoot an impish grin. "Dress hotter next time. That'll straighten him out."
"Right." Alex picked the scrap up and skimmed the heading.
For those searching for a night filled with rapturous delights and pleasures, the Magnificent Magnus Bane presents his humble abode to your drinking and dancing whims.
"Magnus Bane." Alex couldn't help but smile a bit; even his name made her giddy.
"Hold on, cowgirl. It's an invitation to a party, you still have a long way to go." Iz snatched the invite from her hands, "Come on. We better get going… I'd say all the good fish have already been hooked. It won't be long before some trolls will try hitting on us."
Nodding, Alex shrugged her coat on and with one last glance at Magnus—Damn, he is with elf boy—took her leave close behind Iz.
But just because she was out of the glitter and lights, didn't mean her mind was any less devastated with too-fresh images of her crush's gay makeout session. She followed her sister in a daze, bouncing back and forth between being sick with envy for the fairy boy to being sick of being in love with a guy who just didn't Swing Her Way. It wasn't until she heard a slight scuffle behind her when she realized they were being followed.
"Hey, Iz…" Alex smiled when her sister glanced at her, already knowing the message had gotten across.
The younger Lightwood nodded. "Sure thing."
And then followed the most explosive bout of kick-ass ever to result from the two shadowhunter sisters. The stalker—another fairy, Alex couldn't help but seethe—cried out when she pulled him up in a full-nelson which awarded him with a hardy slap from Isabelle. "Now… care to explain why you're following us?"
"I—" He gasped, revealing a set of coffee-and-smokes yellow teeth, "I—I thought you would need my help, that's all!"
"You're 'help'?" Iz rolled her eyes, "What, you get us our prince charmings in exchange for our first born children. God, that takes a lot of balls. I would be impressed…" She kneed him in the groin, and he crumpled out of Alex's hold. "…if I didn't have the ability to take them away from you."
"Not princes—not princes—no first born children, either." He groaned and rolled onto his back. His eyes glinted like black marbles when he looked to Alex. "But… I noticed you—the warlock. You have eyes for him, don't you?"
Flushing, Alex stepped back. "How do you know that?"
The fairy snorted. "You come in and pine over him nearly every week. It's common knowledge, little moth."
"And so will this." Isabelle scowled, "I'm sure your buddies will be impressed when you crawl back into your hovel with bruises inflicted by a huge, tough band of teenage girls."
The fairy struggled to his knees. "I can help."
Isabelle was about to launch into another beating when Alex held her back. Startled, her sister stopped, but not without the "what the hell do you think you're doing" she knew too well. Alex ignored her, turning instead to the fairy. "How? Do you know him? Can you talk him into a date?"
"It'll take more than that." The fairy snorted, "The warlock hasn't slept straight in over a decade."
Heart sinking, Alex frowned. "Then we'll convince him to?"
With a chuckle, he rocked back onto his heels, peering at Alex through a fair mat of white blond hair. "He's old and stubborn. You'd have to be quite the specimen to convince him otherwise."
"Well…" Alex ventured, "Am I good enough?"
"Not by a long shot."
The fairy glared at her, nursing his inflicted cheek. "I have to be honest, love. It's in my blood."
"Not that honest." She stood, shooting the fairy one last dirty look before turning back to her sister. Without a word, the two set back down the street. It had began raining earlier that night, the sidewalk pocked with all assortments of puddles and muck. And just as she was about to round a particularly deep pool, a had wrapped around her ankle. With a shriek, she was jerked off balance, tripping forward and getting positively soaked.
"I'm… I'm…" She sputtered, sitting up as best she could. Water was everywhere; dripping from her hair to drenching her blouse translucent. Thank God I thought to wear a cami. Even after having splashed the majority of the rainwater onto the street, the puddle still sat a good two inches deep around her. And by the angel, it was cold. "I'm okay, really. Just a little—"
She stopped short. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "I'm just a little—"
Her hand flew to her throat, heart picking up pace. Her voice was off, way off… a good octave deeper than it should have been. Did I swallow something? Did I—? But as her hand strayed away from her throat, she discovered her voice wasn't the only thing that was "off". Her chest, while never being the most pronounced, was now completely flat, and as she shifted to a more comfortable position her trousers pinched somewhere where, regularly, they had never pinched before. On top of that, her clothes seemed to have dropped three sizes, threatening to rip at the slightest twitch which didn't help as she began to shake when she finally met eyes with the fairy responsible for her tumble.
His sneer was long and wide, "The only way to catch a bird of paradise is to appease to its delights. You, little moth, simply have to go to slightly greater feats to catch the pretty thing you have eyes for." He stood, absolutely glowing with pride as he surveyed the two shell-shocked siblings. "Now that I've got you're attention, I should introduce myself properly. I go by the name of Dweezle, and no you may not call me "Dah-weasle". And you, sir, would prefer to be called…?"
"Lightwood." Alex gasped, "My name is… Alex Lightwood."