#precious bald fairy princess

[kramersoup]

he’s my precious little scrimblo scrungly bungly bingus mingus meow meow muffin discord kitten special sparkle fairy princess (i am talking about a balding middle aged lawyer)

[fuckyeahsirpatrickstewart]

Can we all please take a moment to mentally hug him for tweeting this

[saddlerfan]

It’s October! Time for Vampire!Sir Patrick!

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 210:  His Final Resting Place 

So the Seer had been keeping secrets from him. She was a clever little bitch when he got right down to it. She'd kept this secret because she knew that he might have been resistant to it in the beginning, perhaps fought her, and tried to find another way around it. But now that he was only a few months away from his Curse being enacted, she knew he hadn't a choice but to trust her and go along with her path. She told him things when he needed to know them. And to think that sometimes he thought he was gaining control of her.

It wasn't hard to find this location. Not with his magic, though, it was odd how his magic reacted to it. A month or so after he'd gotten the news, when he noticed that the Charmings, Cinderella, and her Prince Thomas were beginning to exchange more messages, he felt ready to see it, accept it, and make the appropriate plans. So he'd pictured it in his mind, the image of the future the Seer had once given him of Snow White standing in a dark place some distance from him, completing her deal to tell him the truth if a question was ever asked of her, and then he went there. But his magic didn't bring him to that place, to where he wanted to be. Instead, he arrived in a wooded area within King George's Kingdom. He inhaled through his nose and smelled dwarf as well as…fairy magic.

Ordinarily, he might run from a smell like that, but this time he pulled his dagger from his boot, for extra measure, and walked toward it. If ever there was a plan to contain him, he should have known fairies would be behind it.

The scent of magic grew stronger as he walked through the forest, dagger out, following after the trail of it like he was some kind of bloodhound. It led to somewhere unexpected…an old Fairy Dust Mine. There were boxes outside, freshly covered with hide. If he had to guess, they'd only arrived a few days ago. He pried the lid off one and glanced inside. Iron, silver, bronze, and gold, raw metal materials that stunk of fairy magic. In another one, hammers, nails, axes, smelting cups…construction materials. He glanced at the entrance to the mine in front of him. The wooden frame to the cave entrance was dilapidated, the smell of dwarf was there, but it was old. Clearly, this mine had not been used in years. And yet new materials were being delivered? Because this was what the King and Queen were planning with the Prince and Princess. This was it—his new prison.

Sensing no heartbeats coming from within the caverns, he slid his dagger back into his boot and proceeded inside. It wasn't much of a prison, but then again, it wasn't much of a mine either. This cave hadn't been mined probably since he was a boy and a shoddy job they'd done on it too. He could still feel the fairy dust in the walls. There was one tunnel as opposed to dozens he knew that mines often used. At the cave entrance, the ground went down, then made a turn, then made another turn and…

There it was.

He was drawn to one particular spot about halfway down the hall. Oh, he could practically see the ghost of Snow White from his vision standing there when she told him her truth. But from where he stood now, her back was to him, and from where she stood in the vision, she'd faced him. His eyes drifted beyond her, down the darkened hall—the cavern's end, a dead end.

That was it. His future home. His cell.

Boxes had been stored here just as they were outside, but he could see footsteps in the dirt and small drawings where bars were meant to go. Bars made of gold, silver, bronze, and iron…all elements that mythically kept magic at bay. They'd done their homework. While a single one of those elements wouldn't keep him from his magic, all of them combined would surely dampen it. The metals…and one other thing.

He felt it when he crossed the lines on the dirt that indicated with the cell would begin. Fairy Magic. The unmined Fairy Dust that still sat in the walls had a long time to stew. It was powerful stuff. This cell, this small space, it acted not unlike Bald Mountain. It wasn't at such a high concentration as that mountain, but it was enough that he felt his magic diminish immediately. Outside the cell, he had it, inside…there was a noted soreness in his bad ankle. It was present, but he was grateful that the pain wasn't overwhelming as it had been the first time he'd been to Bald Mountain. He could live with a bit of soreness for a while. That wasn't the only effect of being in the room. The voices in his head were quieter, the sound of ordinary prattling became a whisper, and whispers from the less powerful became nothing. Nimue, Zoso, and the Seer, they were the three most prevalent if he cared enough to focus on them…which he didn't. He couldn't transport himself inside or outside the cave, which was probably why his magic had delivered him to the forest instead of here. But…

He held his hand open and produced a ball of fire. It was small, smaller than he'd wanted it to be, but it was there. His magic wasn't gone entirely. Weakened to the point that creating fire made him want to take a nap for the first time in a hundred years, yes. But not gone.

He used what he'd created to light a torch he saw hanging against the wall. It was less work than keeping it lit. He was able to communicate with the Seer, but only just. She was dampened too, but when he focused, he knew that she wanted him to look around. To find something. A place to hide.

Yes…he had a plan, a plan for what he needed to do before the Curse was cast to wake himself up earlier than the others from the Curse and get a head start in helping the Savior break it. But if this was where he was going to be, if this was how he would be trapped, he needed to be smart about how he did it. At her urgings, he ran his hands over the future cell's walls. Something hiding. Something he needed to find. Something he needed to stumble upon.

There!

His hand ran along the walls, stone after stone without giving, but suddenly small rocks came tumbling down at his touch and revealed…

A crevice! It was small. He reached inside of it and stopped when he felt his fingers jam on the far side of it. It was maybe seven or eight inches deep. But the area inside created enough to hide just a few small precious objects.

Objects. Things. Oh, there was a lot he would love to leave within these walls. If he was to be here for a month or two, he would have loved to bring a spinning wheel. He'd want a blanket for comfort, Belle's chipped cup, his staff, maybe an item or two from his collection. But that wasn't an option. He had this one small space, and that was that. There was no room for anything else. His ability to create a Trigger to the Curse, a piece of magic that would wake him up when the time came, would take priority. He'd need to come up with something small and then hide only what he needed to work that magic, to set it in place. He'd need to be careful when he was in here, store up the magic he had, use it for one last grand piece.

Looking around the small space that was to be his own, he knew it wasn't going to be easy. He wasn't especially keen on small spaces like this, and he'd grown accustomed to living with a certain amount of grandeur over the years. This was going to be boring. Like rotting away forgotten. But he'd do it. He'd do it so long as he knew that Baelfire was on the other side. He'd lived well over a hundred and fifty years, and by the time the Curse broke, he'd be closer to two hundred. What were a few months of boredom?

[a-peanut-with-to-much-time]

My Les Mis Headcanons

Sooo I've only ever saw the 2012 movie and read fanfiction and since I'm just starting the book, I thought I would jot down how I view each character now and then later, after I finish the book, I'll write down how I view each of them then and compare the two. Enjolras is for The Cause, doesnt take care of himself, France is his mistress, is an angel of the Lord, super hot and blond, oblivious to Grantaire's totally obvious feelings Courfeyrac is the life of the party, also he lives that extra life, ships Enjoltaire as much as I do. Also is probably in love with Combeferre. Combeferre is probably the only sane one of the group, is a doctor, deals with a lot of shit on the regular. Has glasses. Also is probably in love with Courfeyrac. ^^^ these three are all bros Grantaire is a tortured soul™ and has trouble with his feelings, drinks a lot, paints, is a dancer (Ballet Dancer!Grantaire is my life rn so if you got fics S e n d T h e m) probably attracts cats. Also wants to love on Enjolras so bad Jehan is a precious boi, probably has a garden, probably adopted Grantaire as his bestie (Jehan x Grantaire is my brotp) will let you cry on his shoulder, auburn hair with braids, writes a lot of poetry. Bahorel is buff and strong on the outside but is marshmellowy on the inside. Probably cries at least 3 times a day, I constantly mix him up with Bossuet for some reason. ^^^ these three are also bros Eponine is a bamf, is kind of a genderbent Grantaire. The two of them probably bond over their unrequited love. She probably climbs through windows instead of using a door. Gavroche is a little rebel. Probably pickpockets, probably is a little shit. Too much sass for one little body. Probably rides a skateboard and looks up to Grantaire. Marius is confused. All the time. He's like a puppy who wandered in after the Les Amis. He's a bit naive and is also oblivious to Eponine but doesn't mean to be. Is totally whipped by Cosette. Cosette is soft and sweet but is also badass in her own way. Probably bisexual af. Probably holds a mean grudge. Has got Marius whipped. Joly is a hypochondriac. Probably would have WebMD bookmarked for easy access. I think he has a cane? I often mix him up with Jehan. Is most likely rocking a throuple relationship with Bossuet and Musichetta. Bossuet is 25 and bald but thats okay. I often imagine him as Chris Jackson for some reason. Very unlucky, the poor soul. Is most likely rocking a throuple relationship with Joly and Musichetta. Musichetta probably had black hair (idk where i got that from) and is very sweet and badass. Shes not mentioned much. At least not in the fics I read. Has Bossuet and Joly wrapped around her fingers. Feuilly is a precious fairy who much be protected at all cost. Has a beautiful soul. Probably is a disney princess. Probably is an animal whisperer. Enjolras likes him. If I missed someone, lemme know.

[oh-my-otome]

Hi! How do you think the MidCin suitors would deal with an ankle length haired princess?

Hello, Precious!

Incidentally, ankle length hair also goes by the name “fairy tale length,” so it fits right in for MidCin!

In this time period, very long hair (and the curlier the better) was the style for women, with “short” hair considered to be just above mid-back. 

Realistically, super long hair would be seen as very normal and feminine for all of the suitors.

Leo: mentioned a trim once, and you all but threw a show at him. He didn’t have the heart to say that he meant he wanted a trim for himself.

Giles generally thinks hair that long is a hazard that could make you easier to subdue if the wrong person gets their hands on you, but he doesn’t mind your extra long hair in private. 

When getting down to business, he always makes sure to thread his fingers through your tresses, as he caresses the rest of you.

Sid: there was that one time where he was giving you crap about your hair being “so long that you’ll probably trip on it,” and then he…tripped on it himself. 

You’ve never let him live it down.

Alyn will not let you anywhere near his kitchen until you wrangle a hair net over your head, no excuses! He’s never actually found any of your hair in his food, but just thinking about it gives him chills.

Louis is surprisingly very particular about his own hair, but thoroughly enjoys playing with yours. He enjoys the feel of your hair as it spills over the backs of his hands when he dances with you.

He’s event the one who fashioned your hair into a waterfall of fishtail braids to keep you from stepping on it while you dance!

Byron enjoys the quiet moments that he spends with you. Sometimes it’s the unobtrusive tranquility of reading books together, the peaceful atmosphere of watching the night sky in each other’s arms, or the quiet intimacy of combing your hair while you lay with your head in his lap.

Albert is not impressed by how your hair gets in the way when he spoons with you. He waits for you to comb your hair out, and then braids it himself, scooping it up and away in a silk scarf– the better to protect your locks, and to give him access to your nape, which he likes to sprinkle with kisses before drifting off to sleep.

Nico desperately wants to ask you to braid it up so that he can jump rope with it, but is afraid that you’ll kick him out of the castle.

Robert is impressed that you stuck to your resolve since the last time he saw you, and you really did achieve your dream of growing your hair out that long! He’d be even more impressed if you shared some of your miracle hair growth secrets with him. Not that he’s afraid of balding or nothin’…

Rayvis doesn’t really have any kind of preference for how you wear your hair– his issue is that short or long, you get hair everywhere! 

[andhaaam]

The Masked Man (Short Story)

She was standing in front of a mirror, her grey orbs which could make every man drowned on her charms was blankly stared at her outstanding appearance, somehow looking unsatisfied with her own reflection.

Roseanne Anniston... Is what every woman dreamed to be.

The black velvet long dress that hugged her perfectly sculpted body looked really beautiful with the high hemisphere that reached her upper thigh, thin straps that adorn her smooth shoulders, and also the low cut in the front which enough to expose her cleavage that beautified by a stunning black diamonds necklace were looking really claxy, classy but sexy.

Her raven hairs fell on her exposed backs and with a little touch of a small tiara on the top of her crown, she indeed worth to be jealous by the whole room later.

"You look stunning Rosie"

She indeed looked stunning, who can argue that? With her tall figure and her overall appearance, she looked like a princess from a fairy tale story that every girl wished to be. Even her soft makeup couldn't betray her natural beauty that she didn't try to show. Her plump polished lips and her blushed chubby cheeks looked simple yet sophisticated, but she would look even more perfect if she flashed her magnificent smile in addition.

"Robert, you're here. So glad to see you" For the first time, a smile formed on her lips.

"I'm glad to be the first person to see your beauty, young lady"

"Robert, stop. You sound old"

"I am old, Rosie" The man in his fifties with a bald spot on his head offered her his arm to be linked. "You ready for the party?"

Her smile that beautifies her beauty dropped in a split of a second. The thought of the party that awaits her just making her more and more annoyed.

"Does it really necessary? I mean why do I need to attend that? Rob, I don't know almost 90% of them. Please"

"It's your farewell party, Rosie. Of course, you have to be there"

"I've never asked for a party before"

"But Mrs President wants to throw you one, she wants to remember this moment and what could be better than to share the happiness with people that you loved"

"Let's be honest Robert, it's not my party, it's theirs. How can I love them when I don't even know their existence" Her face fell even more knowing that her father will force her to stay at his side for the entire evening. "Besides, it's not the kind of party that I want. You know... Ballgown and classical music aren't really my thing"

"Cheer up, Rosie. Your friends and some of the minister's son will be there. There'll be a lot of young entrepreneurs too, you can find your Mr Right in there"

"I don't want to fling around on dad's 'work relation', they are boring"

"But you still need to to be there. Do it at least for your mom. Come on, it will be fun"

"Fun? Duuuuuh" She rolled her eyes to the word that won't happen in her evening. "You talk like I've never attended a night bowl party before. It's boring, Robert. Bo-Ring"

"But still... Let's go, everyone's waiting for you"

"Can't I have another option?" Roseanne's forehead suddenly scrunched while she held her belly, "I think I have a stomachache"

"It's a lame excuse Roseanne"

Robert reoffered his arm and looking at his expression, she knew she got no other choices but to link her arm on his.

They arrived at the large stairs with a red-carpeted floor. Her eyes uninterestedly looked down at the crowd who were busy with their peers. And taking the advantages of the unaware young lady, Robert made his move to inform Roseanne's arrival to the person who was in charge of the event.

The sound of violins and the other music instruments that filled the room suddenly stalled, she stood tall alone on the edge of the stairs still dozing about her upcoming boring evening when suddenly the spotlight shone her path down to the ballroom where the real party held.

Knowing her fate, she knew she has no choice but to fake a smile for the rest of the night. The first step she took brought the music to be heard again. All eyes were on her, and every step she took could awe all the guest on the ballroom. She doesn't like the attention but her looks make her got what she hates.

Her parents were already waiting for her on the other edge of the stairs. Roseanne could clearly see how her parents' face filled with happiness through a wide smile that spread on their faces.

As Roseanne arrived at the end of the stairs, her mother immediately gave her a kiss on the cheeks before her father dragged her to a small platform in the middle of the room.

She looked around to find a familiar face but she couldn't spot anyone she knows, not even one.

All the guests at the party look gorgeous with their best dresses and their best jewellery that probably could feed all the homeless at their country. Those socialites were talking with a shy manner while Roseanne knew that they just tried to show off while acting humble. Pft, fake.

She was taken aback when she heard a clink of a champagne glass and a fork. And it was her father who asked the crowd's attention.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen" The president began his speech with a clear proudness marked on his face. "In this beautiful evening, I want to say my gratitude to all of you who willingly spare your precious time for this small farewell party for my only daughter". He took Roseanne's hand before he continued his greeting, "I'm not standing in here as a president that you all know but I'm here as my daughter's father, as Roseanne's father".

"Dad"

"As we all probably know, my daughter will leave us soon to chase her dream at Stanford. And as a father, I can't be more proud and happier for what she achieved".

Jealous, proud, annoyed, didn't really care, happy and any other expressions that the guests showed gave another odd thrilling to the president. He liked that some of them were jealous of him and his family because Roseanne is a type of daughter that anyone could dream of.

"With all our humility, we want to share this happiness with all you who come to this small event. I don't want anything, I just want we wish all the best for my daughter, your daughter and all the young generation in our beloved country. Cheers!"

"Cheers" As Mr President raised his glass, all the guests followed.

Roseanne has to accompany her mother to personally greet a couple of important guests. Even though she was tired to fake a smile, she still behaved enough as to how a ladylike should be.

"Mom, when this party will be done?" She whispered when they were about to greet a minister's wife. She knew if she stayed there, her mother will start to matchmaking her with the minister's son and she won't let that happen. Never!

"Why, sweetheart?"

"I need to go to the ladies room"

"You can leave, sweetheart. William will escort you"

"Ugh, I know Will will never leave me alone"

"Let's go, Miss Roseanne. I will assist you" The handsome bodyguard outstretched his hand as a sign to let her walk first before he would follow her from behind.

She has nowhere and no one to go, she couldn't drink too much either or else she would start a chaos in the party. And after a quite a long wander around the ballroom, she got even more tired than before. The 6 inches red bottom stilettos were killing her feet.

She stopped and turned around to face her dearly bodyguard.

"Will..."

"Yes, Miss?"

"I wanna go to the-"

"The roses garden, I know miss" He took out a very beautiful black lace mask with scattered Swarovski diamonds that adorn the masquerade mask. "As usual Miss?"

"I swear you're the best Will" She happily took the mask and put it on her face.

"I know Miss Roseanne" He shyly scratched the back of his head when his boss praised him. You know, it's always nice when your boss treats you like a human being, moreover as a friend. "I guess I will wait in here? But please if something happens, you have to call me immediately. And promise don't take too long and too far or I'll be in trouble, miss Roseanne"

"I know, I know. It's not my first time sneaking out of the party like this. Don't worry"

She walked through the roses garden by herself, walked deeper until she reached the angel fountain.

It was her sacred place, her go-to place whenever she felt trapped and suffocated.

Roseanne loves the fountain because she thinks it's her cupid, like a real cupid. She believes in it, she believes that she'll find her right one in there. Because the statement angel of the fountain was sculpted as a cupid with his arrow, but instead of a love arrow, the cupid's bow point is a rose. Like like the cupid was ready to aim the beauty of the flower for what Roseanne has been longing for.

The crickets, the soothing gurgling fountain sounds, and faint violin strings were so calming. She enjoyed her peaceful time until a sweet voice interrupted her moment.

"Is it your private place?"

"Kinda"

"Well, I guess I gotta leave then"

Roseanne didn't expect an uninvited guest like him, and he wore a black masquerade mask just like her. And as much as she wanted to be alone, she could feel something inside her heart that triggered her to share the fountain with the man.

"It's okay, just stay"

He's about to take his step but Roseanne wasn't in her right mind. She insanely asked a stranger to stay with her in a quite isolated area like the fountain.

"Can I?"

"Sure" She gave him her hand which thankfully replied by a warm heat from his palm.

He took a seat next to her. For a moment there was no particular conversation between the two of them. Just their breathings that adding the sound of a faint classic musical instrument that could faintly be heard from the ballroom.

The masked man was drowned in his own world.

Roseanne used to get attention but the man beside her was an exception, and she liked it. He didn't spare her a glance that all men she met always give. He didn't intend a conversation when all men she knew were always trying to extend their uninteresting conversation.

And she liked it. She liked how he treated her.

The cold of the evening breeze breezed a little rougher, caused the roses made a little more soothing sound when it rubbed one another.

The masked man looked at his side and found the girl was rubbing her arms. He took off his suit and politely offered it to the shivering lady without any words.

"It's okay"

"I insist. Wear this"

"I'm totally fine, I don't need your jacket tho"

It was like her words never existed. He suddenly encircled his hand around her shoulder then dropped the suit on her.

He was so close, too close to be exact. The scent of masculine yet calming fragrance hit her nostrils when there was only a couple inches distance between the tip of their noses. She didn't even realize she closed her eyes and took a deep breath of his scent to occupy a small spot of her insanity.

"Done"

With the size of his suit compared to her small figure, the suit obviously covered her like she's been wrapped in a blanket. It felt so warm, not only her body but also her heart.

"Thanks"

"Anytime"

A familiar song could be heard from inside the ballroom which makes a small smile escaped from her lips. 'It must be Robert'

Roseanne mumbled to herself knowing the only his father's man she put her trust was setting her favourite song.

"Pardon?"

"Ahh, nothing... It's just my favourite song is being played"

"Smokes get in your eyes? Isn't it a sad song?"

"Yeah, kinda sad but still a good song. By the way, do you know how to dance?"

"Not at all"

"Great, me neither. Want to dance with me?"

"But we can't dance"

"So what? No one will see us"

He wasn't sure about the idea, he indeed wasn't a type of person who likes to sway his body to the rhymes but somehow, her glistening eyes transferred a little excitement that clearly shown on her grey orbs.

"Everything will be fine. I'm not biting" She chimed before she abruptly took his hands and put it on her waist.

There was barely a gap between both of them, probably only an inch that separated their bodies to touched.

But again, Roseanne wasn't herself at the time. Feeling the comfort that radiated from the masked man, she leaned forward and completely erased the gap between their bodies with her head on his chest and she could tell that his heart was beating normally unlike hers.

"Why are you wearing a mask and coming here alone?" He asked her out of the blue. His left hand was still secured on her waist while the other one was intertwined with her delicate fingers.

"The party is boring. And about the mask, it's just so anyone couldn't tell who I am if I'm creating a mess"

"You're afraid that people will look down at your parents? And that's why you're wearing a mask so no one could recognize you?"

"Kinda..." She looked up and found his eyes were staring back at her. "You're wearing a mask too, why?"

"A man in a suit gave me this. He said I have to wear it"

"Ohh, that must Will"

"Probably"

"William is my bodyguard, tho". She broke the seal in between them when she heard his oddly calm respond.

"You don't have to explain anything Miss" He chuckled when he saw a pout on her plump lips. 'cute'.

Roseanne was on her defensive mode with hands clasped on her back and her feet tapping the ground. If she was the first one who asked his hand, the second time was his turn to outstretch his arm to be taken by the girl.

"I just don't want you to get the wrong idea" She took his hand and back to their previous position. "By the way, what's your name?"

"No one"

"Seriously, what's your name? who are you?" She softly hit his chest.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious. Besides, I think we could be best friend"

"You said you wear it so no one could tell who you are, then so am I"

"Fine... Mr no one!!!"

Rosé felt a little bit annoyed with him. Only if he knew who she is, he probably would immediately tell her his name, or even his bank account. Every man is wishing a once in a million chance to get the experience of getting close to her then there he was, being mysterious which oddly make her more attracted to him.

Normal people will never dance with a stranger in a quiet isolated place like where they were but there they were, glued to each other due to the comfort that they got from their pair.

One song changed into two and they were still swaying their bodies to the melodies. Nothing but comfort was what made both of them refused to stop what they were bad at, dancing.

"You have a comfortable embrace" Roseanne shamelessly mumbled those shameful words to the man.

"Do I?"

"Yeah, did your girlfriend never say that?"

"I've never had one"

She felt a little happiness crept on her heart when he said that but she choked in another second because the other thought that followed on her head.

"Your boyfriend, maybe?"

Her lip sored because she bit it way harder than it should be. She kept waiting but he seemed like he was enjoying her being nervous.

"I'm straight"

"Really?" She exclaimed way too excited.

"Yeah"

Roseanne couldn't hide the grin on her face that widely spread, thankfully her face was on his chest so he wouldn't see the happiness on her face.

"How can you haven't had a girlfriend before?"

"Busy. Just like all of us in here"

"Are you a businessman or a minister's son?"

"Does it matter? What if I'm on of the waiters?"

"No, it doesn't matter actually" She moved both her hands to lopped around him so she could feel more secure and comfortable with the warmth that he had. "Whatever your job is, as long as it's a clean and legal work, it doesn't matter for me"

"I didn't expect that replies from you Miss"

"Why?" She looked up and found him smiling.

Heat crept on her body as his fingers made its move into her cheek, he softly caressed it as if he could break her crimson tinted cheek into pieces. The way his touches touched her like a fragile porcelain china doll and the way his dark orbs peeked through the masquerade mask were waking the butterflies that have been slept way too long on her stomach.

They were drowned in each other's feeling that instantly be felt through the company that each of them gave. They were locked in each other until a cough took them back to the ground.

"Miss, Mr Pre--. I mean, your father is looking for you"

The emptiness suddenly filled her already full heart when she knew her time with the mysterious masked man was about to end.

For a moment she didn't let her hands off of him, and just like Roseanne, he seemed to has no intention to let the woman go.

"I'll be there, Will. Wait a sec" Roseanne told Will to go back to his previous spot at the front roses garden. As much as she wanted to stay the rest of the night with him, she knew that her father should be prioritised. Moreover when she will leave him for the next 3 and a half years. "I have to go"

"..."

"Why am I feeling emotional?" She put her chin on his chest, looking up to the man with pouty lips and sad eyes. "I feel like I'm the Cinderella who left her prince charming to face the awful reality again"

His hand left her waist, and carefully caressed her hair down to stop at her nape. "Be careful" With those two simple yet meaningful words, he took a step behind and made a gap between them for the first time.

"Will we meet again?"

"Probably"

Roseanne took off the masked man's suit that been protected her body from the breezy evening, she unwillingly handed it back to the rightful owner. "Thank you"

"For?"

"The jacket"

"That's totally fine"

"And for making my night a little better"

"..." 

She felt a bit betrayed when he gave no response in return. Was she the only one who enjoyed their secret sacred moment?

"So, I'll be waiting to meet you again, I hope it will be soon" Her feet made a step forward then she placed her palm on his left cheek. As she gathered her courage to plant a kiss on his cheek once, a blossom tinted hue couldn't be helped but blushed on her chubby cheeks herself.

"See you?"

"See you"

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

The Princess and the Pirate—Chapter 5

Rating: T

Pairing: Captain Duckling

Summary:  When the Black Fairy finds a way back from the Dark Realm where she’s been banished, Snow and Charming fear for their daughter, Emma’s life.  They turn to the infamous Captain Hook to take their daughter to safety before the Black Fairy is able to start the “final battle” she’d threatened just after Emma’s birth.

Missed the beginning: (1) (2) (3) (4)

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“Cap’n!” Smee called, running toward the ship’s wheel, a slip of paper in hand.  “Message came for you!  From the King!”

Killian looked up at his first mate, pulled from his thoughts of the blonde beauty of the night before.  “Mister Smee,” Killian said, “do you mean to tell me that King George sent me a letter?”

“Not George!” Smee said, pulling off his red cap, using it to mop the sweat from his forehead and then putting it back on his head.  “David. King David and Queen Snow sent it by bird.”

Aye, that sounded like Queen Snow’s preferred method of communication.

“What the bloody hell could this kingdom’s royals have to say to me?” Killian asked.  “We’ve left their vessels untouched.  They seem a decent sort as royalty goes.”

“Don’t know, Cap’n,” Smee said, still holding out the folded slip of paper.  “I didn’t read it.  Just delivered it.”

Curious, Killian took the offered missive, slid one finger under the flap, broke the seal, and then opened it.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Captain Jones,

Your reputation for daring and courage has preceded you.  It’s known far and wide that the dread pirate Jones is fearless and will stop at nothing to achieve his goals.  It is to that end that we invite you for an audience at our castle.   We’ve a proposition that we believe will be beneficial for our kingdom and greatly lucrative to you. ��We give you our word that you run no risk of danger in appearing at our court.  You’ve never stolen from Misthaven, and thus we have no quarrel with you.

Please send your answer with our bird.

King David and Queen Snow of Misthaven

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Killian folded the letter, his brow furrowing.  How very mysterious.  A pirate being summoned to the royal court, offered not only immunity, but a lucrative venture as well.  Unheard of! Could he trust the immunity King David offered?  Could it be nothing but an elaborate ruse to finally get his hands on an infamous pirate?

No.  Killian dismissed that possibility immediately.  Though he’d never met the king and queen of Misthaven, their reputations were well known through the whole realm.  They were known to be kind, just and true to their words.  Whatever the king and queen wanted him for, it was not ambush.

Perhaps he would accept the invitation, if only to satisfy his curiosity.

“Cap’n?” Smee asked.

“The bird who delivered this message,” Killian said.  “Is he still aboard?”

“Aye,” Smee said.  “Cook tried to shoo him away, but he wouldn’t go.”

“He’s waiting for an answer,” Killian said.  “Tell him that Captain Killian Jones accepts the invitation and will call at a time of their choosing.”

Smee reached up and scratched his head.  “Tell the bird that?” he asked.  “Begging your pardon, Cap’n, but how can a bird pass a long a verbal message?”

“He’ll find a way,” Killian said.  “Queen Snow has a way with birds.”

Smee looked unconvinced for another moment but finally shrugged and then ran off to do his captain’s bidding.  Killian watched him go, and then slowly began turning the wheel back toward port.  He’d give his men another day of shore leave while he attended to his business at the palace.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Killian followed the dwarf through the stone passageways of the palace, up a flight of stairs, and toward what he could only be the King and Queen’s private quarters.

“No funny business, pirate!” the dwarf said, scowling up at him.  “I’m watching you!”

Killian took in the man’s diminutive height, his bald head, the thick black beard, his cantankerous appearance, and rolled his eyes.  “Yes, dwarf. That should deter me from any malfeasance.”

The dwarf glared at him for another moment, then began walking again, muttering something under his breath that Killian could only assume was far from flattering.  He considered making further remarks to goad the bad-tempered man, but before he could do so, his guide stopped before a set of double doors, shot Killian one last glare and then opened them.

The doors opened to a large room, mostly empty save for the dais in the corner on which sat King David and Queen Snow on thrones.

“Captain Killian Jones, your majesties,” the dwarf said.  “Want me to stay and keep an eye on him for you?  He’s a pirate after all.”

Queen Snow shared an amused look with her husband and then turned back toward the dwarf.  “Thank you Grumpy, but that won’t be necessary. Captain Jones is here by our invitation.”

Grumpy.  Never had Killian heard a name better suited to its owner.

Grumpy looked as though he wanted to protest, thought better of it, bowed with a quick, jerky motion, and then stepped out.

As soon as the door closed behind him, King David got to his feet and extended his hand.  “Sorry about that.  Grumpy has a suspicious nature and he’s appointed himself as my wife’s personal guardian.”

“No matter, your majesty,” Killian said, taking the man’s hand and giving it a quick shake.  “I’m quite used to people not trusting me.  A peril of piracy, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, well…” the king said, looking at a bit of a loss how to respond.  “I suppose that’s understandable.”

Killian leaned casually, placing his weight on one leg, his hand going to his belt buckle, and his eyebrow raising.  “And just why is it that you’ve summoned me, your majesty?”

“We have a proposal,” the queen said, stepping forward to join her husband.  “Our daughter is in grave harm from a threat to the entire kingdom. We must get her to safety.  In short, we would like you to take her safely to the kingdom of Arendelle.”

Killian’s eyebrows raised. Of all the things he’d imagined the royals wished to say to him, this hadn’t even occurred to him.  “Surely I’m hearing incorrectly.  You want a pirate to transport your precious daughter, love?  Who’s to say I won’t take advantage of my good fortune and hold her for ransom?”

David stepped forward, hand going to the hilt of his sword.  “You don’t want to know what we’re capable of should you harm a hair on our daughter’s head.”

Killian refused to be cowed. He took a swaggering step forward toward the queen.  “What shall be the consequence, then?  Shall your lovely wife torture me in retaliation?  I daresay that would be pleasant for the both of us.”

The king drew his sword. “You wanna lose a hand, pirate?  Step away from my wife!”

Queen Snow stepped between Killian and the king.  “Alright David, just calm down.  Put the sword away.  To answer your question, Captain, we’ve heard of your exploits and we know you’re an honorable man.  You don’t harm simply for the sake of it, and you’ve never attacked our land or anyone within it.  What’s more, we’re prepared to pay you handsomely for your efforts.”

Kind David took a breath, sheathed his sword, and then turned back toward Killian.  “What is it you want gold?  Silver? Jewels?”

“My dear king and queen, your offer is meaningless,” Killian said.  “Don’t give a damn about your rank.  Your treasures would fill other pirates with glee, but none of those pirates are me.”

King David glared at him for a moment, sighed in exasperation, and then turned back toward the queen.  “You see Snow?  I told you this was a waste of our time.  He should just go.”

“Just a minute David,” Snow said, placing a staying hand on her husband’s arm and then turning back toward Killian.  “You don’t want our treasure, but surely there’s something we can offer you.  What is it you want?”

“Revenge,” Killian said, his voice going hard.  “I want revenge, and it’s going to be mine!”

“Revenge on whom?” Queen Snow asked.

“King George,” Killian said. “He took my brother, and for that I plan to take everything he has.”

“King George,” the king said, “you want to avenge your brother Liam’s death from dreamshade, am I correct?”

Killian stiffened.  “How do you know about my brother?”

The king shrugged.  “Come now, Captain!  I’m contemplating sending my daughter, my only child, on your ship. Do you really believe I would do so without first having you thoroughly investigated?”

“Very well,” Killian said, through gritted teeth, “help me get my revenge on King George and I shall do as you ask.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” King David said.  “Look, nothing would make me happier than to take that bastard down, but he’s a leader of a sovereign nation.  Should I give military (or other) aid to a pirate to destroy him, I will incite a war, and that is something I’m not prepared to do.”

Killian shrugged and then turned toward the door.  “Well, then, your majesty, I’m afraid I must decline.”

“Wait!” Snow said.  “We may not be able to give you King George, but we can give you someone equally as guilty for your brother’s untimely death.”

Killian slowly turned around.  “What do you mean?”

“Did it ever occur to you to wonder how King George knew about dreamshade?  How he knew about Neverland?  Did it ever occur to you to wonder how he obtained the Pegasus sail that allowed you to cross to that realm?”

Killian was silent. In truth, it hadn’t occurred to him, but now that King David mentioned it, it did seem rather significantly odd.  Neverland was seen in this land as nothing but a myth, a legend.  “I presume you have the answer to tell me,” Killian said after a moment.

“Indeed we do,” Queen Snow said.  “Rumplestiltskin.  The Dark One.”

“Our research on you led us to learn that the Dark One set that entire ghastly business in motion,” King David continued.  “He orchestrated your trip to Neverland as well as your brother’s death.”

“Why?” Killian asked. “What reason would he have to do so?”

Queen Snow shrugged.  “No one knows his reasons.  The best we can determine, he’s trying to find a way to his son in a different realm.  At any rate, King George may have executed the plan, but Rumplestiltskin is the mastermind behind it.”

Killian felt the familiar pain and anger flare up inside, the betrayal and agony feeling as fresh as the day Liam died in his arms.  “And how does this knowledge help me?”

“Simple,” King David said, “we may not have the ability to harm King George, but we have Rumplestiltskin contained in a dungeon.  If you give our daughter safe passage to Queen Elsa’s court in Arendelle, we’ll give you Rumplestiltskin.”

Killian grinned, his heart pounding at the possibility of finally, finally avenging his beloved brother. It was all within his grasp!  All he must do is transport one spoiled princess to the next land over.  “It would seem, Your Majesty, that we have an accord.  Where is this daughter that you wish me to take aboard my vessel?  I find I’m suddenly eager to meet her.”

King David called for the dwarf who waited outside the door.  “Grumpy, find Princess Emma!  Have her come to our quarters right away!”

The dwarf bowed and then headed off.   King David turned back toward Killian.  “As it happens,” the king said with a grin, “you’ve already met the princess.  It was what prompted the queen to suggest you as the means to solve our dilemma.”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “You must be mistaken, your highness. Had your princess crossed my path I would have…”

But before he could complete his thought, the double doors opened once more, and Killian’s eyes went wide. The blonde beauty with her hair flowing behind her and a royal dress encasing her slim figure looked far different than the last time he’d beheld her, to be sure, but her identity was unmistakable.

“Swan!”

 Notes:

--So there you have it.  Killian now knows the true identity of his “Swan”, and he also knows who’s the mastermind behind his brother’s demise.  Let the journey to Arendelle begin!

--Obviously some of the dialogue between the Charmings and Killian (and Grumpy, for that matter) was taken from the show.  I quoted 2x13 a bit, and I also couldn’t resist quoting a bit of Killian’s song from the musical.

--Up next: Emma answers her parents’ summons and is surprised to find herself face to face with the pirate she’d met in the tavern.  Her parents tell her of their plan to keep her safe by sending her to Arendelle.  How will she respond when she finds out her parents made such a momentous decision without any input from her?  Also, the journey to Arendelle gets underway!

[burst-bomb-bitch]

The Adventures of Coyote and Dragonfly Ch 3

read on ao3 Title: The Adventures of Coyote and Dragonfly Chapter: 3/14 Words: 20.3k Rating: T Pairing(s): mchanzo Summary: Hanzo’s life is in turmoil: his family’s crime dynasty is falling to pieces, he and his brother are trapped in a desolate American town while their father handles business, and a sudden crop of horrible magical monsters have appeared out of nowhere in their new home of Santa Fe. Suddenly, he’s offered a chance to take control of his supernatural problems: Between fighting with his brother, attending school in a foreign country, and saving the city from terrifying beasts, he definitely doesn’t need a stupid crush on his plate, too, but magic can’t fix everything...

“... And they lived happily ever after,” Reinhardt gave a hearty chuckle as the young girl on his lap swooned to the cliche ending of her favorite fairy tale. A warm glow warbled over her chubby cheeks and forehead, firelight filling the den with a sleepy ambience as he rested in his oversized armchair, shrugging his leg gently. His other granddaughter, propped up against his ankle on the floor, stared deeply into the flames, blinking heavier with every passing minute.

“Sometimes,” she yawned, patting at her own mouth and tucking her little legs up into her stomach. “I wish I was a princess, just so I could meet a knight like that.” The younger girl on Reinhardt’s lap agreed with a clap of her stubby fingers.

“You know, girls,” Reinhardt gave a deep, nostalgic sigh, ruffling the younger’s messy pigtails. “Your old grandpa used to be a mighty knight! Have I ever told you the story of how I lost my eye to a fearsome fire-breathing dragon?” He gestured to his right eye, scarred shut.

“Tell us, tell us!” The girl on his foot was suddenly wide awake, scrambling up to join her sister atop his lap.

“It was back in Germany, many years ago,” He began, settling back into his armchair and hugging his granddaughters closer, but a scoff interrupted his sentence.

“Oh, please. You’ve told this story a million times, we’re all sick of it,” a boy curled into the sofa across the parlor groaned without lifting his eyes as he tapped away on his phone. “Stop being so dramatic, grandpa.”

“Many years ago,” he narrowed his eyes at the boy, and the older girl’s glare joined his.

“No one cares about ancient history! It was just one eye,” the boy finally looked up with an exaggerated sigh, rolling his own eyes. “It’s not like you’re blind, even.” The youngest girl gasped, and Reinhardt fell silent. Blind he was not, though many of his comrades had suffered that fate and worse. Compared to the rest of his battalion, he was fortunate - all of his limbs still attached and in working order, half of his vision, a mind that served him as well as a sixty-year old man’s could, but it had always brought him solace, the light in the children’s faces and their excitement as he recited the tale of heroics and bravery, honoring the friends he had lost, even if it was a tad exaggerated.

“You should show a bit more respect for your elders, sonny,” he tried his best to mask his own grimace with a chuckle, twisting his knuckles against the armrest of his chair - he was just a child, he didn’t know what he was saying, there was no justice to be wrought here. His grandson sneered.

“How come? They’re just gonna drop dead, anyway!”

The floodgates were open. The older girl on his lap leapt to action with fists swinging, shouting mild curses as she chased her brother to his feet. He yelped as he rounded the corner with her hot on his tail, and Reinhardt sighed. He dropped his face into his large palm.

“Grandpa?” They tiny girl on his knee looked up from the commotion to face him.

“Yes, princess?” He managed a tiny smile at the innocent blink of her big blue eyes.

“I love you,” she crawled up his barrel chest to peck a tiny kiss to his scruffy white beard. “Good night.”

“Good night, precious,” he gave her jaw a gentle swipe of his fingers and she clambered to the floor, toddling after her siblings.

For every sweet thought of his girls’ joy, Reinhardt could not help but recall that smug stare of uncaring on the boy’s face. His gaze was drawn to the fireplace, still blazing, hot and golden. With a grunt, he forced the thought of Stuttgart and Eichenwalde from his mind; flames licking and chewing at the grassy hills of his home had no place there.

“Such a shame, no regard for all you’ve done for him,” a gravelly voice, like that of a smoker’s, purred into the knight’s ear.

“Who said that?” Reinhardt demanded, whipping his neck around to search behind his chair.

“Those who do not fear the Crusader are fools,” the voice continued, amused. “Show them.”

--

“You’re a hell of a lot dumber than I thought, snitch,” Jesse heard a set of footsteps brush through the cold desert sand, followed by a few more as they shuffled after the leader of the pack. Someone spit at the ground and another took a deep drag from a cigarillo, cheap smoke burning Jesse’s nostrils. He tensed his back and reached up to pull down the hoodie obscuring his face in shadows.

“Look pretty dumb, too,” the ringleader smirked, and he would recognize the schick of a switchblade anywhere. He grinned from beneath the mask pasted to his cheekbones, lowering his leather-gloved hand to the holster at his hip as his opponents did the same, fingers twitching, anxious for the draw. The shadows in the dark were barely perceptible, but he could make out three fuzzy figures circling around him, shuffling in their old tennis shoes. “You think you’re some hero, comin’ out here all alone, but you’re just like that daddy’a yours.”

“He wasn’t my dad,” Jesse licked over his sharp fore teeth.

“Don’t matter. You’re gonna end up in the same sandy grave, kid,” the click of the gun was quick, but Coyote was quicker. He dove to the ground, but was careful to wait for the first deafening boom of hammer and powder before following up with a shot of his own, straight to the stomach of whoever was in the general direction the first shot had resonated from. The figure grunted and doubled over, clutching its midsection. Something dark began to wet the sand beneath Coyote’s feet. He took advantage of the shock between the other Deadlocks, nailing the one with the knife in the shoulder, another in the thigh. If he wanted to, surely he could land the shots to their faces, their hearts, anywhere he pleased, but that would make him just as despicable. Besides, a dead man couldn’t spread his warning for the rest of the gang:

“I ain’t your kid no more, boys. You, all of you,” he elaborated by waving the barrel of his revolver menacingly around the circle of fallen goons, squatting to meet the unfocused, glazed eyes of his first victim. “Best head for the hills. Got that? Tell everyone that Coyote don’t take kindly to trash in his hunting grounds.”

The thugs were silent, but Coyote knew he had made his point. As he stalked out of sight, he tucked the pleasant weight of his revolver back into its holster, knowing it had done justice that night. ‘Daddy’ would be proud.

He detransformed atop a slummy apartment building, jumping down to a rusted black fire escape as Wenndi gave him an earful.

“You can’t be so frivolous with your powers!” it panicked, swiping paws over its own ears like an old man worrying at his bald patches.

“What’s frivolous about cleaning up the city?” Jesse grinned, tucking his hands into his jacket pocket. “I’m doing exactly what a hero should: making the streets safer for everyone.”

“Well...” Wenndi conceded. “Fine. But all of those men back there, they could figure out your secret identity! What are you gonna do then?”

“Them? Naw, they’re too dumb,” he chuckled and waved the concern off. “That wasn’t enough by a long shot.”

“But-” Wenndi began again, searching for another complaint.

“Calm down!” Jesse snatched it out of the air, cradling it gently in one hand. “I’m gonna get those thugs outta this town with or without you, okay?”

“There’s no way you could do it without me,” Wenndi scoffed, and Jesse nodded.

“Exactly.”

“As long as you’re careful...” the Kwami griped, sinking its little claws into the meat of Jesse’s palm.

“I will be, don’t you worry,” Jesse tickled at its chin, pursing his lips as he thought back to the last person that hadn’t been careful when dealing with the gang - he did, indeed, meet a sandy grave, and Jesse regretted it every day.

--

Stalking down the grimy fire escape and deeper into the city, back into the nicer parts of town, Jesse began to hear what sounded almost like an army - synchronized footsteps, the clash and shake of armor and weaponry. It was quiet enough to pass off as a hallucination, maybe his hearing was going, until he realized that the roads were oddly deserted - something was off. His suspicions grew the deeper he ventured until a massive tremor shook the ground beneath him, knocking him to his hands and knees. It appeared that Coyote had clocked out a few minutes too early.

“Wenndi, I hope you’re not too tired,” he unbuttoned his jacket pocket and the Kwami flew out, hovering protectively over the boy’s shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” It sniffed the air. “Whatever made that earthquake has gotta be huge. You should really wait for Dragonfly.”

“Who jealous of Dragonfly now, huh?” Jesse teased, but sobered up as an aftershock bumped him onto his ass. Wenndi snickered. “Alright, alright. Transform me!”

Warmth washed over his limbs and he felt the familiar weight of his six-shooter resting against his thigh - he was really growing to love that thing. With a tip of his hat over his mask and a slight adjustment to his heavy belt buckle, Coyote was off, leaping for a wrought-iron balcony and clawing his way up the building; he had to find some way to get around without Dragonfly carrying him up walls, it was beginning to eat at his ego.

From atop the roof, he could see smoke and dust billowing from a street a block over - the villain appeared to be setting fires. Coyote grimaced as he took a running leap and cleared the street below, kicking up gravel as he landed on the flat roof of the opposite building. Peeking over the edge, he finally got his first glimpse at the villain. Wenndi had been right, he was huge - a massive knight, suited in heavy, clanking armor, over half the height of the five-story buildings lining the streets. A thick helm covered most of his head, but his face was visible through the front, an old looking man with a white beard and only one eye. Behind him marched a battalion of civilians, adults and children alike, clothed in their pajamas and slippers as he commanded them forwards with a burning sconce as tall as he was clutched in his chainmail sausage-fingers.

“Using innocents as soldiers?” Coyote cringed. “That’s pretty low, for such a tall guy.” He wished Dragonfly had beat him there, if only to hear his joke - he gave himself a well-deserved chuckle. Before he could pat himself on the back any further, the massive knight suddenly turned his head upwards, glaring at him with one dead eye and a smirk.

“Low, you say?” his voice was booming, so much so that it knocked Coyote back from the edge with its sheer volume - the accent was heavy and German. Most of the buildings in the city were quake-proofed, but even that could only put up with so much of this guy. “My hearing isn’t what it used to be, sonny, would you mind speaking up?” He raised his torch and hurled a ball of fire from the flaming end, it hurtled through the air towards where Coyote stood frozen to the roof. He barely rolled out of the way in time and it singed the fur on the edge of his mangy tail as he stumbled over the edge of the building with a shout. Another close call, but he managed to hook onto the edge of a porch, pulling himself up to safety and thanking his gym teacher for the mandatory pull-ups all those years ago. He pressed himself against the sliding door, taking a moment to catch his breath.

The blue curtain behind the door was thrust aside and the door popped open.

“What are you doing out here?”

--

Hanzo was thrust out of his sleep by the sound of a heavy thud against his window, and he toppled from his bed, tangled in sheets. Toyoll sniffled in its own slumber, blinking itself awake and leaping from the bedside table to hover over Hanzo’s shoulder.

“I think that’s the fastest I’ve ever seen you wake up,” it stretched in midair like a flying cat. “What’s the occasion?”

“Something is outside...” Hanzo whispered, hushing the dragon. He crawled across the room to the closed curtains and lifted one corner inconspicuously so that he could look outside: he found a very familiar pair of boots and spurs.

“What is it?” Toyoll asked as Hanzo panicked, dropping the curtain and jumping to his feet. “Can I eat it?”

“No, you cannot eat it!” Hanzo whispered aggressively, breathing becoming labored. “It’s Coyote! How could he have found me? Oh, what are we going to do?” He screeched at a miniscule volume, scratching at his own cheeks.

“Let him in?” Toyoll stated like it was obvious.

“B-but...”

“If he already knows your secret identity, you have nothing to hide,” Toyoll interrupted. Hanzo sighed and rested his cheek in his palm.

“I thought I was doing a good job...” He tentatively stalked back over to the curtains and hoisted them aside. He stuck his head out into the cool night air as Coyote turned to face him. “What are you doing out here?”

“H-Hanzo!” Coyote stammered, leaning back into the railing. “This is your place?” Realization struck as Hanzo sized up the surprise in Coyote’s eyes.

“How do you know my name?” He stepped back dramatically, feigning innocence as he glanced back into his room and gestured Toyoll into his pajama pants pocket.

“Ah, I...” Coyote twisted his brows as he thought. Hanzo narrowed his eyes. “It’s... It’s not important, okay?” He brushed the question off. Hanzo pursed his lips but did not interrogate him any further.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked instead, batting his lashes - as uncomfortable as it made him, he knew he would be better off acting starstruck than anything else. Coyote caught on and seemed to find his cool again, stepping over the threshold and scooping Hanzo’s hand into his own.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” the gunslinger grinned, and Hanzo resisted rolling his eyes as he leaned in to peck a soft kiss onto his wrist. Coyote began to trail his eyes up the intricate dragon tattoo sprawling its way across Hanzo’s skin, and he stole his arm back.

“It’s no problem, Coyote-san,” he wanted to giggle at the way the dog bit his lip and groaned softly in his throat as he turned up the charm, forgetting all about the tattoo, but that would break his cover. Maybe he wasn’t great at acting, but watching Coyote react was rewarding enough to try. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Who says I’m not just here to see you, princess?” Coyote laughed, and it was Hanzo’s turn to blush. “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed, but there’s a knight in not-so-shining armor outside, and I’ve got a feeling he has a taste for flame-broiled dog.” He gestured to his burnt tail.

“So you’re hiding?” Hanzo snickered. “You have to wait for Dragonfly to save you?”

“Ain’t no shame in waitin’,” Coyote defended. “This is a two-man job.”

“I doubt he’ll find you if you’re cooped up in here,” Hanzo teased, giving him a soft shove towards the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” Coyote let himself be walked out, “Maybe I’ll come back later? You know, after I kick this guy’s ass.”

“I’d love nothing more,” Hanzo let the honey drip from his words, clasping his hands together in the crook of his neck and praying that Coyote had forgotten about him by the end of the coming battle. He grinned before disappearing to the neighbor’s balcony, climbing back upwards. When he was sure that Coyote was out of earshot, he opened his pocket to let Toyoll take a breath of fresh air.

“Such a flirt, isn’t he?” Toyoll clicked his long, serpentine tongue, spiralling around Hanzo’s tattoo to sit upon his shoulder. “Well, you know what to do.”

“Transform me!” Hanzo demanded quietly, letting the cool feeling, rather like rolling up in fresh sheets, he thought, melt over his skin until he was Dragonfly yet again - the transformation felt less of an oddity with every passing use. He followed Coyote out of the sliding door, making sure to close it behind him so as not to arouse suspicion.

Flinging himself upon the roof, he found Coyote crouched at the edge, breaking line of sight with their foe. Shingles shuffled beneath his metal toes, and Coyote looked up to shush him, pointing over the edge with his thumb. Dragonfly peered out into the street, observing the quiet, hypnotically still army and their huge leader, the knight. His flaming torch was like the sun, looking directly at it for more than a moment gave him a headache and he saw stars - it was a wonder he, and the rest of the city, for that matter, had not been woken by that alone - not to mention the sound of his footsteps and armor.

“You sure showed up fast, darlin’. Any plans?” Coyote whispered as far beneath his breath as was humanly possible, but it wasn’t quite enough.

“Two of you, now!” the knight bellowed, laughing heartily. “I welcome your challenge!”

“Now that is just unfair,” Coyote rolled his eyes as Dragonfly covered his ears in the shock of the German’s huge voice. “Speaking of fair!” He addressed the villain himself that time, standing to his full height. “Let’s say you release all these innocent people down there, and we can have ourselves a real match!”

“Release my soldiers, you say?” the old man raised his empty hand to his chin in mock thought. “I’m afraid not, my boy! You should have considered fairness before challenging an army!” With a wicked grin, the man raised his torch high above his head, slamming it down into the ground just in front of their perch.

The building crumbled and the rubble went up in flames, almost instantly. Tremors rocked the ground. Dragonfly ducked and rolled onto the next roof, Coyote not far behind, and they both looked back in horror.

“Oh my God,” Dragonfly whimpered, falling to his knees and covering his mouth with his archery glove as he felt a wave of nausea wash over his body. The knight cackled below them.

“You have yet to face such power. Am I correct, heroes?” he shouted, and Dragonfly could hardly move as he imagined Genji inside that building - had he been crushed by his own bedroom? Burned alive? Worse? Reality crashed into his body and knocked him to the ground. What had ever made him think he was cut out to face a supervillain - he couldn’t fight a mutated soldier with a thirst for real death, real destruction. Coyote behind him didn’t look all that much better, though his face was that of a boy that had seen plenty of death in his short lifetime and was displeased to see more.

“He killed them...” Dragonfly whispered, retching.

“Killed?” the villain below responded to his quiet exclamation. “Certainly not. I am not partial to wasting manpower,” the heroes gasped as they saw where his statement was beginning to lead - the stones of rubble shifted, and the residents of the building crawled their way out, unscathed. Dragonfly screamed. “You two will finally learn the consequences of a real war.”

Genji wandered out of the collapsed debris, cheeks smeared with black char, but his shock of lime green hair was visible from a mile away as he drunkenly joined the swelling army of civilians. His eyes were glazed like candy, as though he couldn’t see a thing.

“Where’s Hanzo?” he heard Coyote wonder from behind as they watched the grim procession together.

“I-I’m sure he’s down there somewhere...” Dragonfly mumbled through his fingers, feeling a tad faint as his brother slouched over to follow the villain. This knight was bad news: he needed to be taken out, and quickly.

“Look out, he’s doing it again!” Coyote shouted a warning, grabbing onto Dragonfly’s wrist as he moved more sluggishly than usual from his scare. The torch came down, and they tumbled onto the next building over as their previous one met a similar fate to Hanzo’s apartment - it went up in high flames, lapping at their toes as they rolled to safety.

“We need to get rid of him,” Dragonfly coughed the dust from his lungs. Coyote nodded and brought out his revolver, mimicking the quick shooting he had used to take out the Gopher’s army. Dragonfly gestured to himself and the ground - he was to be the distraction, while Coyote stunned the villain from above. The gunslinger grinned and nodded again as Dragonfly drew his thin sword and surfed down the roof shingles, landing in front of the huge man with it ready in front of him. The old man’s eyes lit up and he mimicked the position with his metal torch.

“Do you challenge me, young man?” the booming voice bounced between the faces of the buildings, hitting Dragonfly four times over.

“I do!” he cried back in reply.

“A brave one you are! You shall have an honorable position in my army!” Dragonfly shuddered at the prospect. The German raised his sconce, ready to slam it down upon the hero’s tiny body, but Coyote’s voice, amplified until it almost matched that of the villain’s, interrupted.

“Draw!” He fired from his silver revolver.

A sudden wash of glowing blue overtook the night sky, bright enough that it felt like day.

When Dragonfly opened his eyes after the blinding flash, he found a massive energy shield blotting out the sky, projected from the knight’s gauntlet. The look on his aged face was sour.

“You are clever, I will give you that,” he spit as he retracted the shield and again raised his weapon. “But you must play fairly to beat the Crusader.” With that, he slammed the sconce into the road before him, cracking the asphalt, rippling damage out in front of him. Dragonfly barely managed to jump into the air in time to avoid the brunt of the damage, but he still fell flat on his back. He looks upwards to find a stunned Coyote, glaring holes into his revolver - his power had been denied entirely.

Before the Crusader could rile up for another hit, Dragonfly climbed the face of Coyote’s building, praying silently that the knight would not hit again until he could regain his bearings as he scampered straight upwards like a terrified lizard. Just as he reached the top, he felt the solid ground collapse beneath him. Something grabbed onto his wrist, yanking him up into the air with enough momentum for him to make a dive for the next safe rooftop. He skidded to a stop, back on his feet in an instant to search for his savior - Coyote dangled precariously from a colorful planter box on the side of the high rise. They both jumped out of their skins as a wicked laugh from Crusader echoed through their sensitive ears.

Dragonfly tucked and rolled onto the ground, ducking under the attack this time. Coyote let go of the box and toppled to the ground as well; Dragonfly grabbed a hold of the scruff of his jacket as he stood, disoriented.

“We need to get out of here!” Dragonfly growled, sprinting for the end of the block, making to round the corner.

“You will never escape from me!” Crusader shouted, lowering his stance as what seemed to be a combustion engine lit up in his suit of armor, propelling him forward until he crashed headfirst into the adjacent block of buildings; they came down around his head, but he stood, unfazed.

Dragonfly and Coyote kept running, not daring to look behind them as they rounded the city block. Crusader came charging past yet again, and Dragonfly took a deep breath, tossing both of their bodies limply between two brick high-rises, hardly stopping for a half second before digging his nails into the grit of one building, climbing for both of their lives.

“Come out and fight!” the knight taunted, and the heroes laid as still as they could atop the roof, panting hard. “I’ll burn this whole city if I must!” Dragonfly groaned, wiping a sheen of sweat from his scaled forehead.

“That guy is bad news...” he whispered, and Coyote nodded, sitting up as they heard the Crusader’s footsteps taper off into the distance. A beep interrupted their relative silence, and Coyote looked down at his belt buckle to watch the last of four carved teeth vanish from the gold plate, leaving only a drooling tongue. “Y-you’re going to change back!” Dragonfly’s eyes widened and he hopped to his feet. “You need to get out of here!”

“I can’t leave you alone with that!” Coyote jerked his thumb in the direction the knight had run off to.

“I’ll be fine, go!” Dragonfly insisted, hair on his skin bristling as he heard another beep resonate between them. He whipped around, covering his peripheral vision with his hands. “Go, Coyote!”

--

Jesse sighed to Dragonfly’s back, watching his anxious tail sway along the ground.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he whispered as he turned to the fire door leading back down to the ground floor. Once inside the dimly lit hallway, Wenndi made its presence known from inside his jacket pocket, popping its head out into the air with its pink tongue lolling from black lips.

“Hurry and get us some food so we can get back out there!”

“Sure thing,” Jesse took the stairs two at a time, running his hands down the walls to keep from tripping until he finally reached the ground, only to stop in his tracks. The asphalt of the street was mangled, a ditch drug through the middle where Crusader had charged in, pipes and hydrants leaked water that attacked his boots the moment he set foot outside. High rises and shops alike lay in rubble, scattered across the city like ashes in the wind. He could hear the slow-moving army of hypnotized civilians somewhere near; it had truly become a warzone. He looked up to the roof of the apartments he’d just escaped, but Dragonfly was nowhere to be found.

“Let’s go!” Wenndi reminded him from his pocket, and Jesse snapped out of his trance, running in the opposite direction of the damage gradient.

Most storefronts were too broken and burnt for the gunslinger to even recognize whether they had once served food or not. The streets were empty, and the undamaged buildings seemed to live on peacefully, completely unaware of the chaos outside. Perhaps that was the Crusader’s game - the only ones he woke joined his army, and Coyote and Dragonfly were left cut off from any possible assistance. Seemed silly, though, when he thought of the mass destruction the knight could cause with one swing of his torch.

Finally, Jesse came upon a promising sight: a small crop of food trucks, still strung up with twinkling fairy lights to attract hungry bar patrons. As he approached, however, he found most of the carts empty, abandoned by their owners. He sighed.

“What’cha in the mood for, Wenndi?” He asked as he eyed a taco cart with the doors left hanging open.

“No! You are not going to loot a food cart!” Wenndi huffed, exasperated.

“Ain’t got much of a choice,” Jesse shrugged, heading closer to the orange van. “It’s miles back to the apartment, and every other place in town is smashed up somethin’ nasty.”

“Some hero you are,” Wenndi gave its reluctant consent as Jesse hopped inside the van.

“I can’t believe you don’t trust me,” Jesse rolled his eyes, fishing his wallet from his back pocket and dropping a few bucks onto the counter.

--

Dragonfly heard the telltale sound of rushing air, and a sniff gave away his partner’s position.

“You smell like tacos,” he turned up his nose in distaste as Coyote landed on the chimney next to him.

“Yeah? You like things a little spicy, darlin’?” Coyote snickered as a heated blush overtook the cool dragon’s cheeks. “Took a while to find you.”

“I’ve been trying to avoid Crusader, but I tracked his migration. He’s moved outwards, towards the desert,” Dragonfly flicked a strand of hair from his eyes, tucking it behind his pointed ear.

“Any plans yet?”

“Well...” Dragonfly pursed his lips. “It’s risky, but I think the only course of action is to approach him from up close and use his own strength against him - like the first one, remember?”

“He seems like he might be a bit too smart for that,” Coyote hung his head. “But that’s the best we got, huh?”

“I suppose.” Dragonfly worried his bottom lip between his teeth, standing from his crouched position to search the horizon for the ever-moving path of destruction the villain had left in his wake. “You provide cover fire, and I’ll-”

“Wait, hold up,” Coyote knitted his brows and crossed his arms over his chest. “How come you’re the one riskin’ your life to get up close?” Dragonfly scowled like he had eaten something sour.

“That was what we did last time, wasn’t it?”

“I’d wager a guess that Crusader is a heck of a lot more dangerous than that goo monster ever was,” Coyote shuddered at the memory of the toppled buildings, burning homes and braindead citizens. “You need to be around to clean up afterwards!” Dragonfly grunted in realization.

“You think I’ll be hypnotized into his army?”

“I ain’t doubtin’ yer skills none, sugar, but we can’t risk that,” Coyote avoided his gaze. “Better if I do it so the city still has a chance if it don’t work.”

“I suppose... That makes sense,” Dragonfly conceded, tucking his arms behind his back and watching his own feet. “It’s a last resort, okay? If it does come to that, though... Thank you.”

“It’s the gentlemanly thing to do,” Coyote chuckled, though Dragonfly couldn’t bring himself to scold the cowboy for his insolence - Coyote knew the very real consequences as well as he did. “Whatever we do, though, we gotta get to it. City’s gettin’ wrecked worse and worse by the minute.” Dragonfly nodded in agreement, and they leapt together in the direction of the outskirts of town.

As they drew nearer and nearer to the source of the mess, the violence and damage became more pronounced. Entire blocks of sidewalk ripped from the ground and scattered in concrete chunks, hydrants pumping floods into the holes where roads, shops, and homes had once stood. They spotted Crusader in the difference, tearing a pickup truck bed from cab with his hands, and draw their revolver and bow respectively. Dragonfly closed one eye, taking a single, calculated step forward as he drew back the string of his bow and let an arrow fly. It struck Crusader in the back of his helmet, though it didn’t do them much good as he turned around to face his little distractions, plucking the shaft from his head without so much as a wince as he approached.

“I see you have returned, so-called heroes,” he sneered, swinging his torch up to rest upon his shoulder. “Have you come to admit defeat and join me?”

“Not a chance!” Coyote shouted back, clenching his fist tight around the handle of his gun.

“A shame,” Crusader sighed, tossing his torch back into his swinging hand and flinging a fireball at them. The duo split apart as it hurtled towards them, dodging to either side of the scorching shot. Another followed in rapid succession and the two hit the deck, but Coyote yelped as the second projectile burnt his new tail.

“We can’t keep this up forever, Dragonfly!” Coyote hissed, and Dragonfly grimaced in agreement. Just before he could give the order to move onto their last resort plan, a disembodied chuckle halted his words in his throat.

“You two look to be having some trouble,” the voice was feminine, a Spanish accent gracing the smooth English.

“Who said that?” Dragonfly searched the roof but found no traces of anyone atop it but them. They received another warm laugh in return.

“You just have to ask for help,” she chided them from thin air. “Go on, ask.” Distracted, a well-aimed fireball caught Coyote off guard. It singed the sleeve of his coat, igniting fibers, and he yelped in surprise, slapping at the tiny flames with his metal hand.

“Jeez, help us! Please!” Dragonfly brought Coyote closer, eyeing the air suspiciously as he tended to the burn on his arm.

“Good boy,” One of Coyote’s ears was tamped down and he whined in surprise at the invisible touch.

As Dragonfly helped Coyote back to his feet, both of their attentions were caught by a purple glimmer atop Crusader’s armored shoulder. It took a vaguely human shape, that of a young woman, as it slid down his arm, dragging long nails over his gauntlet and leaving it sparking with purple. The glimmer disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, but Crusader was too distracted to care. He shook his purple arm like a ragdoll, as though it had fallen asleep.

“What have you done to my shield?” he demanded, eyeing the heroes atop the building. Dragonfly narrowed his eyes, staring at the busted shield generator.

“Coyote, now’s your chance!” he gasped, shoving the overheated dog towards the edge of the roof, where he had better line of sight. “The shield is down!” Dragonfly pulled back the string of his bow as he slid to the ground, landing shots in the Crusader’s armor and helmet as Coyote charged up to take him down. The knight growled and dove after Dragonfly with his weapon, slamming it into the already-destroyed road and rumbling the ground. Scampering along the ground as fast as he could manage while shooting, Dragonfly prayed that he was too small to hit, biding time for his partner.

“Draw!” came Coyote’s voice again, but this time no flash of light as he was blocked. The shot from his six-shooter echoed as loud as the Crusader’s bellow as it cracked into his helm, shattering the iron into a million pieces that crumbled like dust over his white hair and beard. Forced to his knee, the knight was frozen in place as the rest of his armor underwent a similar disassembly, rust soaking into the metal like water into a sponge, cracking into plates, then crumbs that tumbled down to the ground as sand. Dragonfly drew back an arrow and aimed straight at the frozen behemoth before him, letting loose and shouting.

“Ryu ga waga teki wo kurau!” Coyote jumped down next to him as the twin dragons hatched from the arrow, blowing a gust of cool air over them as they barreled towards Crusader, swallowing his body like a snake eating its prey whole; when they had finished, an old man remained on his knee. Dragonfly choked at the sheer size of him, even now that he was human. He stood near seven feet tall, he wagered a guess, rippling with muscle - the monster had not been so much of an exaggeration as he had thought. One eye blinked open on the man’s face, the other scarred shut.

As the dragons washed over the absolutely wrecked town, they restored buildings to their full heights, whisked cars upright and drank up the water that flooded the streets. Finally, they dove for the swarming mass of civilians, confused with their leader defeated until the spirits freed their loyalty to him. Chatter picked up volume exponentially as the people wondered what had transpired, and the old man that had once been Crusader echoed their query.

“What happened?” he groaned, pressing a hand to his face as if to soothe a headache. “Why am I out here in the middle of the night?”

“You were under the mind control of an evil being,” Dragonfly barked professionally, returning his bow to its place on his back. “But you should be fine now.”

“Ah,” the man grunted, declining to question further. The dragon offered a hand to help the man up, but he waved it off and stood on his own without too much trouble. He looked down to the ground, an immense hurt in his eyes as he began to walk towards the huge crowd, slowly migrating back into their homes.

“Sir?” Coyote interrupted his pity march, and he turned around. “I gotta say... You still kinda look like you’d make a pretty good knight,” he chuckled, scratching at his own neck.

“Thank you, young man,” he grunted, something like a laugh, and a small smile lit up his furry face. Dragonfly and Coyote watched him walk off together for a moment before their Miraculous gave simultaneous beeps. Coyote scooted closer to his partner as they both turned to walk off in the opposite direction of the crowd.

“We got pretty lucky, huh? Who’dya think that girl was?” Dragonfly huffed a sigh through his nose and crossed his arms as they walked.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like her,” he replied sourly. Coyote made a sound of protest, but Dragonfly cut him off before he could make his argument. “We don’t know anything about her, her motivations, powers, anything! How can I trust that?” Coyote fell silent as they rounded the block and ducked into an alley. “We can’t always be lucky, you know, and I don’t like taking handouts.”

“Guess you’ve got a point there,” the dog sighed and tucked his hands into his pockets. “See you around?” Their Miraculous gave another set of beeps, and Coyote waved goodbye, leaving Dragonfly to detransform in the relative private of the abandoned alley. At least it was too late for his partner to return to his window.

Once he was redressed in his plain pajamas, Hanzo hurried to join the crowds in the street as they shuffled back into their homes. He found Genji as he neared the front door to their high rise, catching onto his wrist and dragging him close for an impromptu hug amidst the mob. The battle had taken his mind off of it, but seeing his brother with that dead look in his eyes, face smeared with soot and rubble had shaken him something awful. A reminder that Genji was alive, well, and kicking was well deserved, though he kicked a tad more than Hanzo remembered.

“So, now you care about me?” Genji scoffed, shoving Hanzo a few feet away. “It takes getting crushed in a building and being hypnotized for a supervillain for you to want me?” the younger rolled his eyes and returned to the doors, leaving Hanzo stock-still on the threshold. He blinked in surprise, but let his brother go, tucking his hands together and looking down to the ground, rocking on his toes and hoping that no one had noticed Genji’s outburst. He was just tired, surely, effects of the hypnosis wearing off - his cheery brother would be back by morning, and for now, he would leave him be.

--

Tucked into his desk at school for only the second time the next morning, Hanzo could barely keep his eyes open. Brawling the Crusader deep into the night and thoughts of Genji had kept him awake for far longer than what he normally considered healthy, but missing what was functionally still his first day of school was not an option. Realizing that the attacks from monsters were not going to let up anytime soon, the district had opted to open the schools back up despite the danger - Coyote and Dragonfly would fight to keep the students safe, their email stated. A rush of pride had filled Hanzo’s chest when he read it, but also a sinking feeling of dread; it was an awful lot of responsibility for two boys.

As Hanzo opened his mouth wide for a yawn when no one was looking his way, the classroom door opened. In walked none other than Jesse McCree, the delinquent he’d seen enough of for a lifetime within a half-week. Maybe he had the wrong room, he was just checking with the teacher - Hanzo begged, but no such luck. He scowled as the cowboy noticed him, flashing a smile full of slightly yellow teeth and a quick wave as he moved closer. Hanzo remembered the empty seat to his right and swallowed hard - his bad luck truly knew no ends.

“Howdy,” Jesse’s wide smile was still plastered to his cheeks as he tossed his bag to the ground unceremoniously and threw himself into Hanzo’s neighboring seat. He didn’t grace him with a response, and the smile fell slightly, but he seemed undeterred. “You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“What makes you say that?” Hanzo huffed, laying his cheek into his palm and glancing to the boy with his best disinterested look. He didn’t disagree, but he also couldn’t think of any right foot for them to have got off on - Jesse was nosy and loud, exactly his brother’s type. Good looking, sure, but the casual flirting was too much for Hanzo to put up with, rather like a certain dog he knew.

“I know I’ve been kinda, forward with you,” Jesse continued, ignoring the sarcastic quip. “An’ I guess I probably made you pretty uncomfortable, right?” At least he could recognize his own errors, Hanzo thought.

“I jus’ wanna apologize. Never meant to upset you,” the cowboy continued, and Hanzo couldn’t help but give a small smile when he searched for a reaction. Perhaps Jesse was more of a respectable young man than he had previously assumed. “And I was hopin’ that we could be friends?” He offered a hand up and Hanzo laid his delicately atop, where it was treated to a firm squeeze and shake. A sharp breath was forced into his lungs as the sheer warmth of Jesse’s hand enveloped his own, and before he could do a thing about it, the boy’s other arm stretched around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. Hanzo’s eyes fluttered as he felt Jesse’s arm flex around his own, and he let out a tiny gasp of disappointment when his new ‘friend’ pulled away with a satisfied grin.

Oh, no.

[koakei]

my dad is so fake. 😭 gonna say aw u look like a precious lil fairy princess then turn around and tell ma i'm a bald headed lil boi. 🤧

[rgmonzon-folio]

Cinderella from Mahaplag, Leyte

As I watched my friend ringing up her siblings with her smartphone, promising them about her gifts for her nieces that would help them with school, I was astonished upon remembering her story from years back, and I realized how much had changed. I recalled when she was the one who needed help, but hardly anyone heard her plights, so much so that she would hardly voice them. They were so much as breathy whispers that dissipated into the harsh atmosphere.

Now, she would beam with life as she showed me what she had accomplished in her hometown of Mahaplag, Leyte - simple achievements from the slightest renovations of their simple home, the added household furnishings, the new piggery, and even the billiard house she had made for her father’s enjoyment and extra income.

 I always thought if written down, her story would ready like a fairytale - and my friend would be Cinderella, from her humble beginnings, to her falling into the clutches of an evil stepmother figure, to eventually her ongoing happily ever after. But this story has a modern day twist - she didn’t rely on a Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet. And despite having a fairy godmother who kickstarted her journey, she was still in charge and did the hard work. She was the one who ultimately turned her life around.

 So I did decided to fulfill my once floating idea to write the real-life story that had always inspired me and I hope would inspire many others: the story of a princess and her journey.

 Humble Beginnings

 The little princess in this story was born and raised in a small, provincial town; a quiet, rural village lush with greens at every corner called Mahaplag, Leyte. Their humble house stood at the slope of a mountain, something that was by heaps and bounds far from a royal palace, lit by oil lamps instead of electricity. It was more of a symbol of poverty, small for a family of eight children and a frail, single father. The little princess was the youngest, and despite the family’s lack of riches she was showered with love and care. Her name is Mary Jane Cozo, known affectionately as Mayie by her friends and family.

 Mayie had two older sisters who helped her bathe at the nearby stream every morning, usually exasperated with her antics of wading too long and playing with the clear and cool water, as they still had to rush home to put on their school uniforms and go to school. She had a father who would find ways to alleviate her suffering caused by the unnamed skin disease she acquired, despite of his inability to pay for expensive dermatological treatment. He would bathe her several times a day to ease the heat caused by the watery boils that erupted all over her body, and found herbs and juices from around them to try to diminish the symptoms. The poor girl even had to have her thick, wavy hair shaved as the boils spread to her scalp.

 Those struggles hardly dampened her days, however, as she had plenty of time to play and have fun. Mayie loved trudging through the surrounding farmland for adventure, picking all the fruits she could want, playing all the games she could play with her friends. One of the things she truly loved was eating - all the chicken, crustaceans and rice cakes made her the happiest kid. Even though the seafood partly aggravated her skin condition, she didn’t care. Eat on, she would say when she’d recall to me her childhood. She was happy even as she sprouted into a plump, chubby kid who would get picked on not only for her skin and bald head but also for her size.

 She would merely laugh as she described her younger self, eyes shimmering with genuine amusement. She recalled how in the end of the day, after a fun filled day of play, she’d have to take another bath, then her father would have her take a nap. Eventually when her hair grew back, she’d wake up with them braided by her older sister, who would complain about Mayie’s hyperactivity otherwise, if she were awake.

 Despite the chance to wish for more - for more money, more food, even electricity - Mayie was happy with her simple provincial life. That is until her third year in high school, when she had realized there were things her family and her hometown couldn’t provide her. Despite her promising academic career, she had to drop out. The road to her dream of getting her diploma and donning her white toga turned into a big question mark.

 She still looked at life with a positive lens. Her skin disease ebbed as she was touched by the first signs of womanhood. She had a handful of friends she shared precious moments with, marked by her sharp-witted jokes. The first boy of her dreams, her first Prince Charming, even reciprocated her affection, which blossomed into her first romance. She knew she would find a way to go to school eventually.

 A distant family member from Laguna made the call one day, that he would help her finish her studies. Her Kuya Jerome was a seaman who made a significantly substantial income. Mayie grabbed at the chance and was plucked from Mahaplag, Leyte and placed in the photocopied row houses and eskinitas of Calamba, Laguna, my hometown.

 Her Kuya Jerome’s house was bigger than she was used to, up and down with two bedrooms, a proper sala set and kitchen. They also had electricity and appliances Mayie’s father could not afford himself - a television, a stereo, speakers, a washing machine.

 When Kuya Jerome ws aboard the ship he worked for, sailing to every end of the world, his three daughters and obese wife nicknamed Ling stayed at home, practically rolling in the dough a seaman could make. It wasn’t hard for Mayie to see why Ling had grown so large - she hardly lifted her behind from the sofas, chairs, and beds of the house. She would wake up, make a hearty, fattening meal and sit down singing karaoke for the rest of the day. When her husband’s money would come in, she’d spend it on alcohol, gambling, affairs, and her daughter’s whims.

 For staying in their house as she studied, Ling decided Mayie should cough up some rent. Ling took this opportunity to have someone do the housework she’d neglected for karaoke, vices, and her incredible laziness. And so began Mayie’s toil as the household’s unpaid maid, who woke up as early as five in the morning to do the laundry, and then make breakfast for her four female masters. As the masters ate,  Mayie would have to pour them juice or water whenever they asked, and had to be prepared, sitting at the edge of her seat, to go to the fridge or kitchen counter to grant the extra food requests.

 Then she’d clean up the house from top to bottom, wiping every counter surface and table top then sweep the floor. At around ten in the morning she was allowed to turn on the T.V. and watch the morning slate of Tagalized anime, her only reprieve for the entire day.

 After, she’d make lunch and dinner, where’d she’d have to wait around for her masters again, ready to respond to their every desire. Soon, Mayie’s plump body slowly shrunk into a thin, bony frame. The arduous labor stunted her growth at four feet and eight inches. Her skin, while free from her childhood boils, was dry and lifeless. Her hands were calloused from toil. Her beacon of hope still shone, however, and loomed as the new school year approached.

 However, the opening of classes came and went, and Mayie was not sent to school. She carried on her life as an unpaid maid, whose labor was too much in exchange for food and a bed to sleep in - things she had enough of back in her Leyte home.

 She was only fifteen when she landed in Laguna as a chubby, healthy teen who was promised a chance to study. She turned nineteen, frail and small, still unable to go to school.

 A Failing Promise

 Four years had gone by, and Mayie was never as much as taken to a high school to be enrolled. At this point, she would be much older than her classmates, at nineteen years old. She got tired of toil but never complained, her smile and humor still earning her friends to joke with and share music with around the neighborhood, whenever she would have sparse spare time. With her optimism, she was a joy to be with and a bell of any ball.

 She had made friends with the woman directly behind their house, named Thelma. Houses in this subdivision were cramped and separated by eskinitas, some only by a sparse piece of land barely enough to be made into a room. Upstairs, where Mayie’s slave masters had their covered balcony turned laundry area, she could see Thelma right across, who was usually occupied with her laundry in the balcony-turned-laundry-area of her own. Their initial chit-chats eventually turned to friendship.

 Thelma saw opportunity knock on Mayie’s door late 2006. Thelma, had found out about a friend who had recently underwent surgery named Emie, who is my mother. This is when our paths first intertwined.

 During Emie’s recovery, she was not allowed to go about her usual household tasks such as laundry and heavy-duty general cleaning. Thelma was quick to recommend the hardworking and the toil-sharpened Mayie.

 Emie was only looking for a part timer, someone who’d occasionally come in and do the laundry and most of the major cleaning. She’d pay per visit until she could do the chores once again. Thelma, saddened by Mayie’s unpaid state, decided that this would be good for her. Sure, added labor is involved, as Mayie would have to work for another household on top of working for the one she lived in, but she accepted anyways.

 She first went to our house when I was a ten-year-old. Off the bat I was already taller than her, my built already bigger. She was a quiet stranger who was not frugal with her smiles and warm greetings. As she sat on our sofa, my mother nearby fished small details from Ate Mayie’s life, which soon became a vast collection with which to paint the persona of the girl.

 With every visit she diligently and expertly went about her tasks, my mother supervising her as she did the laundry. As she often came on Saturdays, I’d join my mother in watching over, sometimes awkwardly attempting to help out. Chats were very much welcome, and they often turned to long conversations about Mayie’s life, and more. We’d bellow in laughter at the stories of her childhood antics in Mahaplag. Sometimes I’d hunch over in fear as she told me about her experiences with engkantos. She’d teach me how to properly scrub my clothes, explaining with utmost patience as I tried and failed to make the squishy sound she made as her hands rubbed the foamy cloth together. After work, my mother would let her share a meal with us, and we’d talk more as we’d eat dessert. Then I’d turn the T.V. on introduce her to my favorite Disney sitcoms, like Hannah Montana.

 On Sundays she would drop by again, this time to iron the clothes she’d washed the day before. I’d come with her on the hot spare room upstairs, where she’d bring out the heavy ironing table and start working on the newly-dried, wrinkly pile of clothes. Eventually she started telling me about her high school life, her many friends, and her first love. I smiled and teased as she’d tell me about the letters exchanged, the jealousy fraught interactions with her Prince Charming, all the while she pushed the iron to and fro to straighten the creases out from my uniform.

 I learned that she loved to read pocket books, so I went downstairs to my bookshelf, picked two or three of my absolute favorites and shared them with her. When she finished reading, we’d have more stories to share and jokes to laugh about.

 In her first few days, she had brightened up the house usually occupied by just me and my mother, since my father was always at work. She’d make our bellies ache with laughter at her jokes. She’d foster a connection with my mother with their provincial upbringings, occasionally comparing my more urban one. Easily, Ate Mayie had become one of my closest friends.

 One day, my mother had decided to ask if Ate Mayie still planned to go back to school. Ate Mayie was quick to answer yes. But she was still waiting on the promise of Ling and Jerome, which at that point was still in the mist. My mom was alarmed that the promise was pending for four years. Even more alarming was that Ate Mayie was unpaid.

 We eventually learned about Ling’s unimpressive pursuits in life, her laziness, her squandering of her husband’s hard earned money aboard a ship. I would watch as my mother’s brows would crease together in frustration as our new friend confessed about her life in Calamba.

 Taken to Ate Mayie, my mother bought her a gift of a simple apparel to ease her burden. Ate Mayie accepted with glee, only to have it taken by her obese slave-driver. It was clear at that point how exploited this girl was, and how unfair the course of her life had been. My mother and I were deeply dismayed.

 Then, Ate Mayie had seemed like a real-life Cinderella, living with a wicked stepmother and stepsister, yet still riddled with Disney-princess-brand optimism, with the will to still wish upon the star. We were moved at how positive she was despite her extraordinary hurdles.

 I was sad when she had finished her duties with my mother. I missed the laughter that filled the room. I went back to keeping to myself, my books and shows, and Ate Mayie went back to the Visayas. She was sent to Ling’s sister, Vanessa, under vague promises of freedom, only to be entrapped once more into another round of slavery in Cebu.

 “The sisters seem delighted with the free labor,” my mother would hiss under her breath when talking about Ate Mayie’s masters, “they want to live like queens even though they can’t afford it.” In the hands of her evil stepmothers, the promise of a brighter future went dimmer and dimmer.

 Three years later she came back to Calamba, only to be a maid at my neighbor’s house, where at least she was free from the clutches of Ling and could keep her money for her own. It was still too measly however, to fund her education.

 A New Hope

 After her stint at my neighbor’s, my mother and her siblings decided to hire Ate Mayie to tend to my ailing grandmother in Marinduque. It was like she was sent back to her small town roots, living at my aunt’s where the house was surrounded by farmland, trees, chickens, streams, and even an ocean a few walks by. There, her only real job was to tend to my grandmother, who was resigned to her foldable bed.

 With glee, Ate Mayie would change Nanay’s clothes and brush her hair, and she would tell the same funny jokes and stories. She’d even sing to Nanay and make her laugh and smile. Ate Mayie’s part time job was enjoying the warmth of my aunt’s friends and neighbors, who gave her food by the plenty. Without the arduous labor she got to stroll the scenic views of the town and meet the friendliest people.

 My aunt, who was a high school teacher, was touched by Ate Mayie’s show of kindness and positivity, and decided to send her to school when the new academic year would have started. She’d provide Ate Mayie with her uniform and other necessities. Hope sparked again into a raging fire, into a certainty. After years, she was finally going to school.

 After only a month, my grandmother passed away. Ate Mayie was without a purpose in Marinduque, all the while grieving the loss of Nanay with us. She moved back with us to Calamba for the meantime, all the while recalling her time spent in Marinduque to be her happiest.

 Meanwhile my mother was growing impatient at the thought that Ate Mayie would have to wait until the school year started to actually go back to school. My mother had stumbled upon the Alternative Learning System or ALS, a project spearheaded by the Department of Education for people like Ate Mayie who have been out of school for a while. Despite it being the middle of the regular school year, Ate Mayie was enrolled there and started going to classes right away.

  There, she was not out of place with her classmates, who were around her age and sometimes even much older. They were not required to wear uniforms, and classes were accommodating to their knowledge level, rather then sticking to the year-level curriculum. She met friends with amazing stories at par with hers - she met a girl who dropped out due to poverty, a mother who still wanted to finish high school, a formerly rebellious teen who wanted to straighten out his life. ALS was a beacon of hope not just for Ate Mayie herself, but for others like her who had seemingly lost hope. ALS was her glass slipper.

 We were school girls together at the time. She lived twenty-four seven in our house, with complete access to our T.V. and my books. We had extended bonding sessions over them, and eventually even over homework. Together we read the Percy Jackson series and watched the latest flicks in the cinemas. She and my mother bonded over chores, but Ate Mayie was not required to wash anyone’s clothes but her own. She was a friend, not an employee.

 We were there, my mother and I when Mary Jane Cozo finally donned her white toga.

 Happily Ever After

 After her high school graduation, she enrolled in a vocational course and applied as an operator in a company. She got her first taste of a wage, a wage that was finally more than a few hundred pesos and involved perks like a Social Security System I.D. After years of struggle and exploitation, she had made a life for herself - with the help of some fairy godmothers from Calamba and Marinduque.

 Now, in 2017, she’s been working for several years. She’d helped her father start a piggery and a billiards house. She helped her niece go to school. She has money saved up in a bank and more so that she can go on occasional trips to Tagaytay with her officemates. Sure, there are the occasional workplace hang-ups, and occasional worries that the company she worked in would close down. But she could always go to another one. She could always find a way.

 Armed with a diploma, she could never slink back to her life as Cinderella who’d wash off the cinders.

[fuckyeahsirpatrickstewart]

Can we TALK ABOUT THIS PIC or 😱❤️ (x)

[saddlerfan]

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[rosalinecheel34-blog]

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[luigihendon9-blog]

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[fuckyeahsirpatrickstewart]

OMG sir PLEASE stop no wait don’t (x)