#he should never have admitted to a wish to leave Henry. even in theory

[historyartthings]

‘Most likely some papist, and then I would wish myself far away’.

at that moment, he showed far too much of his hand.

Hence the king’s, ‘no one could keep their secrets from me’. As in, I think, in Thomas saying that, Henry felt it confirmed everything others have been telling him about Cromwell as true.

if there was a final tipping point, it seems as though that was it

[thefisherqueen]

So I'm just back from a hiking trip during which I was entirely out of phone reception reach, so I've fallen behind on Sherlock Holmes' The hound of the Baskervilles! Funnily enough, this novel was quite a lot on my mind during hiking, because I also was in a place deemed by many to be Moody and Dreary (though it was tundra, not the moor), and I crossed so many bogs - and yet, managed to not get slowly sucked in to death once! Instead, my enemy nr 1 was quite a lot of rain and, especially, a never relenting harsh wind. Very exhausting. I also was made concious once again to all the strange noises created by wind and water. There's 6 chapters now for me to catch up, let's see how far I can get today between unpacking and laundry and other chores!

IX - Second report of dr. Watson There is an opening between two trees which enables one from this point of view to look right down upon it, while from all the other windows it is only a distant glimpse which can be obtained. It follows, therefore, that Barrymore, since only this window would serve the purpose, must have been looking out for something or somebody upon the moor. The night was very dark, so that I can hardly imagine how he could have hoped to see anyone. It had struck me that it was possible that some love intrigue was on foot. That would have accounted for his stealthy movements and also for the uneasiness of his wife. The man is a striking-looking fellow, very well equipped to steal the heart of a country girl, so that this theory seemed to have something to support it. Nice bit of logical reasoning from Watson. I have to laugh a little at Watson here, though, for always thinking that romance must be involved. Also - what is this tendecy of men to compliment other men of their looks by going 'the girls must love him!' No sir, YOU love him, just admit it

So I reasoned with myself in the morning, and I tell you the direction of my suspicions, however much the result may have shown that they were unfounded. Spoilers, Watson, spoilers!

“Perhaps then he pays a visit every night to that particular window,” I suggested. “Perhaps he does. If so, we should be able to shadow him, and see what it is that he is after. I wonder what your friend Holmes would do, if he were here.” “I believe that he would do exactly what you now suggest,” said I. “He would follow Barrymore and see what he did.” It's very adorable to me that these two grown men are deciding their actions based on their idea of what their hero Holmes would do

When the house is renovated and refurnished, all that he will need will be a wife to make it complete. I can so easily imagine Holmes' eye-roll at Watson's romanticism upon reading this part, and this time I'm 100% with him. Watson, this is Too Much. There's no reason at all to put this line into your report - it tells Holmes nothing except your own projection

I am sorry to intrude, but you heard how earnestly Holmes insisted that I should not leave you, and especially that you should not go alone upon the moor.” Sir Henry put his hand upon my shoulder with a pleasant smile. “My dear fellow,” said he, “Holmes, with all his wisdom, did not foresee some things which have happened since I have been on the moor. You understand me? I am sure that you are the last man in the world who would wish to be a spoil-sport. I must go out alone.” For heaven's sake, sir Henry, being killed will be more of a spoil-sport than Watson's presence on your little romantic moor adventure. Also, Watson would be more than happy to join in the fun with you two

At this instant Sir Henry suddenly drew Miss Stapleton to his side. His arm was round her, but it seemed to me that she was straining away from him with her face averted. He stooped his head to hers, and she raised one hand as if in protest.  Oh, red flag. Seems she's not into this, sir Henry, leave her alone. Even if her rejection is just for her brother's sake - still wrong to push

Stapleton was the cause of the interruption. He was running wildly towards them, his absurd net dangling behind him. He gesticulated and almost danced with excitement in front of the lovers. What the scene meant I could not imagine, but it seemed to me that Stapleton was abusing Sir Henry, who offered explanations, which became more angry as the other refused to accept them. Becoming more and more curious as to the reasons for Stapleton's objection to his sister and sir Henry's courting. Am suspecting something fucked up - though at the moment, considering how pushy Henry is being, my sympathy is more with Stapleton

I explained everything to him: how I had found it impossible to remain behind, how I had followed him, and how I had witnessed all that had occurred. For an instant his eyes blazed at me, but my frankness disarmed his anger, and he broke at last into a rather rueful laugh. “You would have thought the middle of that prairie a fairly safe place for a man to be private,” said he, “but, by thunder, the whole country-side seems to have been out to see me do my wooing—and a mighty poor wooing at that! Many can learn something from Watson's honesty and communication! And Henry's affront at having been observed is making me laugh. Miles of wide open land might not be the best place to carry out something private, lord. Go into a forest or something like that next time

What's the matter with me, anyhow? You've lived near me for some weeks, Watson. Tell me straight, now! Is there anything that would prevent me from making a good husband to a woman that I loved?” Oh, I don't know, might have something to do with the last lord having possibly just been murdered and a family curse to your name and active threats being carried out towards your person??? Did sir Henry just forget all that?

I tell you, Watson, I've only known her these few weeks, but from the first I just felt that she was made for me, and she, too—she was happy when she was with me, and that I'll swear. There's a light in a woman's eyes that speaks louder than words.  ... Is sir Henry here admitting that miss Stapleton never actually said with words that she was interested in him, that he was going on vibes alone? Yikes

He was very sorry for all that had passed, and he recognized how foolish and how selfish it was that he should imagine that he could hold a beautiful woman like his sister to himself for her whole life. If she had to leave him he had rather it was to a neighbour like myself than to anyone else. But in any case it was a blow to him, and it would take him some time before he could prepare himself to meet it. He would withdraw all opposition upon his part if I would promise for three months to let the matter rest and to be content with cultivating the lady's friendship during that time without claiming her love. This I promised, and so the matter rests. Three months... until the plot, whatever it is, has had the chance to be carried out? I still don't think that Stapleton is the main guilty party. But evidence is mounting that he knows more about this plot than he's letting on. Also am increasingly annoyed that we still don't know miss Stapleton's actual level of interest in sir Henry. So far, even in private with the lord, all she has done is warning him. Am also irritated that her beauty is her only trait that's refered to. If her beauty is her main virtue even to her brother... that has implications I don't like at all

And now I pass on to another thread which I have extricated out of the tangled skein, the mystery of the sobs in the night, of the tear-stained face of Mrs. Barrymore, of the secret journey of the butler to the western lattice window. Congratulate me, my dear Holmes, and tell me that I have not disappointed you as an agent—that you do not regret the confidence which you showed in me when you sent me down. All these things have by one night's work been thoroughly cleared. We were really bereft so far for never knowing what Watson sounds like when he isn't being a narrator but writes to Holmes directly. Watson: "compliment me, my dearest? Tell me I've been a good boy and done well? Not sure I can live without your approval" We've joked before about Holmes having a praise kink, but Watson is clearly in even deeper

 I sat up with Sir Henry in his rooms until nearly three o'clock in the morning, but no sound of any sort did we hear except the chiming clock upon the stairs. It was a most melancholy vigil, and ended by each of us falling asleep in our chairs. *is having issues holding myself back from joking about what these two handsome horny hotheads might have been up to to pass the time in the privacy of sir Henry's rooms* On second thoughts, actually, why should I hold myself back. "I know something which to amuse ourselves with while we are waiting, my lord, but you must promise me you will remain very quiet. Can you do that, or should I gag you?" "Do go on, doctor, I'm... intrigued" Ok, I'll leave the rest for AO3

The next night we lowered the lamp, and sat smoking cigarettes without making the least sound.  Ah, the stealthy act of... smoking cigarettes. Surely no one will be able to smile that from a mile away

When at last we reached the door and peeped through we found him crouching at the window, candle in hand, his white, intent face pressed against the pane, exactly as I had seen him two nights before. We had arranged no plan of campaign, but the baronet is a man to whom the most direct way is always the most natural. All that time spent waiting, all that stealth... to just barge into there without plan? Absolute disasters, the two of them

The man's face became openly defiant. “It is my business, and not yours. I will not tell.” “Then you leave my employment right away.” “Very good, sir. If I must I must.” “And you go in disgrace. By thunder, you may well be ashamed of yourself. Your family has lived with mine for over a hundred years under this roof, and here I find you deep in some dark plot against me.” Sir Henry is reacting with such a typical rich man's abuse of power already here, feeling entitled to everything going on in his house, assuming without evidence that it is done against him, and threatening this man's whole income and reputation if he doesn't comply with him. I hate it

 It is my doing, Sir Henry—all mine. He has done nothing except for my sake and because I asked him.” “Speak out, then! What does it mean?” “My unhappy brother is starving on the moor. We cannot let him perish at our very gates. The light is a signal to him that food is ready for him, and his light out yonder is to show the spot to which to bring it.” “Then your brother is—” “The escaped convict, sir—Selden, the criminal.” Well that IS a plot twist I did not see coming. Lady, I admire sibling loyality and care a lot for my younger brother myself, but exceptionally cruel murder is maybe where you should draw the line? I'm very much wondering what the story will do with this. I guess this resolves the escaped convict subplot and that he has nothing to with the plotting against the Baskervilles

“Well, it cannot be far if Barrymore had to carry out the food to it. And he is waiting, this villain, beside that candle. By thunder, Watson, I am going out to take that man!” Oh my. This man will run straight into danger, and I'm sure Watson, who's supposed to keep him save, will only encourage him. They have so much 'we make each other worse' energy

We rushed over the brow of the hill, and there was our man running with great speed down the other side, springing over the stones in his way with the activity of a mountain goat. A lucky long shot of my revolver might have crippled him, but I had brought it only to defend myself if attacked, and not to shoot an unarmed man who was running away. Well, Watson at least has Morals about using his revolver

And it was at this moment that there occurred a most strange and unexpected thing. We had risen from our rocks and were turning to go home, having abandoned the hopeless chase. The moon was low upon the right, and the jagged pinnacle of a granite tor stood up against the lower curve of its silver disc. There, outlined as black as an ebony statue on that shining back-ground, I saw the figure of a man upon the tor. Do not think that it was a delusion, Holmes. I assure you that I have never in my life seen anything more clearly. As far as I could judge, the figure was that of a tall, thin man. He stood with his legs a little separated, his arms folded, his head bowed, as if he were brooding over that enormous wilderness of peat and granite which lay before him.  Evidence, finally, of another human figure involved in this plot! And he looks nothing like Stapleton either. Tall, thin, commanding presence - Sherlock Holmes, is that you?

X - Extract from the Diary of Dr. Watson I am conscious myself of a weight at my heart and a feeling of impending danger—ever present danger, which is the more terrible because I am unable to define it. The essence of gothic horror, right here :) A stranger then is still dogging us, just as a stranger dogged us in London. We have never shaken him off. If I could lay my hands upon that man, then at last we might find ourselves at the end of all our difficulties. To this one purpose I must now devote all my energies. Seems like Watson has a new plan of action! At least, if you can call it a plan

“He'll break into no house, sir. I give you my solemn word upon that. But he will never trouble anyone in this country again. I assure you, Sir Henry, that in a very few days the necessary arrangements will have been made and he will be on his way to South America.  Barrymore: don't worry! If he'll murder people again, it won't be in our country, so really everything is fine! (wow. So much wow)

I know something, Sir Henry, and perhaps I should have said it before, but it was long after the inquest that I found it out. I've never breathed a word about it yet to mortal man. It's about poor Sir Charles's death.” The baronet and I were both upon our feet. “Do you know how he died?” “No, sir, I don't know that.” “What then?” “I know why he was at the gate at that hour. It was to meet a woman.” Ok, maybe Watson does like romance in his stories, but romance does seems also have a tendecy to keep finding him whether he wants it or not. Now what was this appointment about?

But if we can only trace L. L. it should clear up the whole business. We have gained that much. We know that there is someone who has the facts if we can only find her. What do you think we should do?” “Let Holmes know all about it at once. It will give him the clue for which he has been seeking. I am much mistaken if it does not bring him down.” Gods, I hope Holmes does come! I've been missing having my dear silly man around almost as much as Watson has

And then I thought of that other one—the face in the cab, the figure against the moon. Was he also out in that deluged—the unseen watcher, the man of darkness? In the evening I put on my waterproof and I walked far upon the sodden moor, full of dark imaginings, the rain beating upon my face and the wind whistling about my ears. God help those who wander into the great mire now, for even the firm uplands are becoming a morass. I found the black tor upon which I had seen the solitary watcher, and from its craggy summit I looked out myself across the melancholy downs. Rain squalls drifted across their russet face, and the heavy, slate-coloured clouds hung low over the landscape, trailing in gray wreaths down the sides of the fantastic hills. Some nice vivid writing here! The unseen watcher, the man of darkness: that are some badass names Watson has come up with. It would be so funny if it really does turn out to be Holmes himself - I bet he'd be most pleased to be called names like that

There is Laura Lyons—her initials are L. L.—but she lives in Coombe Tracey.” “Who is she?” I asked. “She is Frankland's daughter.” Found her, it seems! That is impressively fast, Watson. I had to read back to remember who Frankland was - the man who was so happy to start all those lawsuits and who has the huge telescope. Seems he's not as kind and good-natured as Watson described him to be if he disowned his own daughter for marrying against his will. Could this man the main villain, then? Did his daugher know something which she wanted the eldery Baskervilles to warn about? I am certainly developing the wisdom of the serpent, for when Mortimer pressed his questions to an inconvenient extent I asked him casually to what type Frankland's skull belonged, and so heard nothing but craniology for the rest of our drive. I have not lived for years with Sherlock Holmes for nothing. Laughing so hard at this. Watson has learned to weaponise people's autism against them. Well done, my boy. Just how often did you use this trick against Holmes?

I sat with my coffee-cup halfway to my lips and stared at Barrymore. “You know that there is another man then?” “Yes, sir; there is another man upon the moor.” So Barrymore also knows about the Unseen Watcher! Who is he? When the butler had gone I walked over to the black window, and I looked through a blurred pane at the driving clouds and at the tossing outline of the wind-swept trees. It is a wild night indoors, and what must it be in a stone hut upon the moor. What passion of hatred can it be which leads a man to lurk in such a place at such a time! And what deep and earnest purpose can he have which calls for such a trial! There, in that hut upon the moor, seems to lie the very centre of that problem which has vexed me so sorely. I swear that another day shall not have passed before I have done all that man can do to reach the heart of the mystery. Watson's really is going all into his investigation!

Had such a great time reading these two chapters but that was quite enough for today, time for a shower and dinner now. Starting another chapter tomorrow after work!

[skgway]

1823 Aug., Tues. 5

7

11

In the stable etc. 1/2 hour – Read from page 71 to 83 on “the letters and life of Ninon de l’Enclos” volume 8 (No. [numero] 15) Retrospective Review – I agree with the reviewer – some fastidious readers may possibly object to the publication of such an article thro’ such a medium –

Dissatisfied with several passages of the letter I wrote last night to M– [Mariana]. Wrote it over again in 3/4 hour in a hand so much less close, that in spite of the great deal left out, made it fill 3 pages and a few lines of crossing on the 2nd page – There seemed some appearance of annoyance and displeasure in my 1st letter which I entirely avoided in my 2nd –

Went down to breakfast at 9 40/60 – At 11 took George in the gig and set off to Haugh – Put a letter into the post for my uncle, and got to Haughend in 50 minutes – All the party at home with the addition of “Captain” Butler, a very grood sort of, vulgar, quondam Captain of an Indiaman – The young people did not appear till luncheon –

Sir John A– [Astley] franked my letters to Mrs. N[orcliffe] (Langton hall, Malton) to Miss Marsh (Micklegate York) and to M– [Mariana] (Lawton hall, Lawton, Cheshire) and they went in the Haughend letter bag in time for yesterday’s post – Nothing particular in the conversation way –

Sir John somehow or other inquired if I believed all Homer’s stories, or that there ever was such a place as Troy, or such a siege – I saw he had read Bryton or some sceptic on the subject and was very gentle in what I said in support of my historical creed – At last Sir John (after some flimsy observation) tried to shew that women were as much respected in ancient days as now – Briseis as much respected by Achilles, as wives were respected by their husbands now – Woman as well treated then as now – He (Sir John) would have treated lady A– [Astley] as well at that time as he does at this – I did not say much, not wishing to appear to have too much the better of the question argument for none said a word about it but ourselves, and Sir John is evidently looked up to as an oracle by them all, tho’ his responses will never set the Thames on fire by their wisdom –

He complimented his wife exceedingly – In fact, she is pretty enough, stylish enough, sensible enough, everything enough for him – Speaking of their place of family, she observed she “always thought the Astleys were an envied family in Wiltshire” “My dear” said he “they envy me for having got you” –

It is plain enough to me from their manners etc. etc. that they not exactly comme il faut with the Wiltshire county society – They have had the house in London that Sir Jacob Astley and his family had had, and many calls were therefore made upon them by mistake – They returned some – Were admitted at one house, the manners of the ladies shewed they were not expected, and the A– [Astley]s took their leave – A party was soon afterwards given by the family, and they (the A– [Astley]s) were not asked – They do not get on in London society – Nor as yet perhaps are they likely to do – Nor will Miss A– [Astley] even after “she has been presented” (at court) –

Lady A– [Astley] has not worldly nous enough to keep all these things to herself – Thinks Mrs. William Henry Rawson very ladylike, Ditto Mr. Christopher Rawson – The manners of the Society here suit the A– [Astley]s very well – Captain Butler it seems has had 1 or 2 premiums from the Doncaster society (I know nothing of this society) for feeding horses – Kept his draft-horses throughout the winter at 3/5 a head on chopt straw and line-seed – His saddle horses only cost him about 5/. [shillings] a week having nearly the same as the cart-horse with the addition of a little hay and corn –

Boils down the linseed to the consistence of cream – Perhaps about 2 quarts water to a pint of lineseed – Mixes this with their oats or chopt straw to a proper  (a mashy?) consistence, and gives them as much as they will eat – A chopping machine at Doncaster 7 1/2 guineas – Try our horses with about 2 wine-glasses full of linseed at first – Merely pour on boiling water – and let the seed stand till it is mucilaginous –

This plan is good for feeding cattle – It is the way in which dealers fatten up horses – But it wont do for hunters, or horses from which speed is required – The linseed works away to greasy perspiration – Runs out of the anals like melted fat – They must have good hay and corn for speed – But cart-horses do uncommonly well on this food – 

They all like Caradoc – Think him “a very likely horse” – His toes turn in a little: this is best for a gig-horse – If the toes turn at all outwards, the gig horse can scarcely ever keep his feet – He cannot hold up up hill and down – 

Staid till about 3 – Called at Saville hill to ask Miss P– [Pickford] whether, when she called with me at Haughend, she meant to call on lady A– [Astley] or not – Not – Asked her to come to Shibden to see Caradoc’s long switch tail cut – She would meet me at the library in 1/2 hour –

At 4 1/4 – drove thro’ the town, past Northgate, and Crosshills, and turned up by Greenhill, stopt at Furnish’s, and got a pair of new reins 10/6 – Left George to drive the gig home from Northgate, and without going into the house, went to the library – Shewed Miss P– [Pickford] the article respecting Ninon de l’Enclos (vide the 1st line of today) and the points of Humour (vide page 79) – She agreed with the retrospective reviewers, and with me that the soldier and his chére amie was the best print –

She walked home with me to the top of our little lane, but must there return for the children who would come to meet her – We walked about on the top of the bank – My aunt joined us – She left us in about 20 minutes (at 6) – 

We then walked to H–x [Halifax] – Miss P– [Pickford] returned with me up the old bank even to xxxxxx. I walked back again with her a little way up the Cunnery lane, when we met her party of children – 3 Wilcocks, 2 Paleys, and Miss Jones the governess, and we parted –

Our chief conversation about Miss Threlfall and my entreaties to see her last letter. Nothing could prevail till at last I asked if she feared its telling me anything I did not know before. On finding this the case, I said I would soon sooner move this fear by proving that I was not as still suspected in any degree of uncertainty. 

I wondered she did not know this already, but I had wrapped up my meaning too much and she should now have it so clearly that no doubt could possibly remain in her mind. Upon this I said I considered her connection with her friend a marriage of souls and something more. That if they were on a visit and their friend provided them separate rooms it would be unnecessary and they would presently defeat this arrangement by being together. 

Under other circumstances it would have been a wonder that with beauty fortune etc. etc. Miss Threlfall did not marry but now it was no wonder at all. Asked Miss P[ickford] if she now understood me thoroughly. She said yes. I said any would censure unqualifiedly but I did not. If it had been done from books and not from nature, the thing would have been different. Or if there had been any inconsistency first on one side of the question, then the other. But as it was, nature was the guide, and I had nothing to say there was no parallel between a case like this and the sixth satire of Juvenal. The one was artificial and inconsistent the other was the effect of nature and always consistent with itself.

At all events, said I, ‘you remember an early chapter of genesis and it is infinitely better than the thing alluded to there,’ meaning onanism. ‘This is surely comparatively unpardonable. There is no mutual affection to excuse it’. Miss P[ickford] did not say much but seemed satisfied. 

‘Now,’ said I, ‘the difference between you and me is mine is theory. Yours practice. I am taught by books, you by nature. I am very warm in friendship, perhaps few or none. Moreso, my manners might mislead you, but but I do not in reality go beyond the utmost verge of friendship. Here my feelings stop. If they did not, you see from my whole manner and sentiments I should not care to own it. Now do you believe me?’ ‘Yes,’ said she, ‘I do.’ 

‘Alas,’ thought I to myself, ‘you are at last deceived completely.’ My conscience almost smote me but I thought of π [Mariana]. It is for her sake that I fisrt [first] thought of being, and that I am so deceitful to poor Pic, who trusts me so implicitly and at last turned no objection to my seeing the letter. I said perhaps there was not another in the world she could trust so safely. Perhaps not Miss Caroline Renouard, she was not read or liberal enough tto [to] think as I did. She would condemn unqualifiedly. Pick agreed. 

I owned my manners might mislead people, particularly before I knew as much as I do now, before I read Lubinus’s Juvenal, before I first knew Miss Brown of whom she has heard reports. But now I knew how to be more careful. Yet still, my manners might mislead Miss Vrelfall [Threlfall]. She said, ‘yes they would’ –

I ended by saying I was now satisfied that she thoroughly understood me and that I had had an opportunity of telling her my sentiments, for she must often have wondered and not known what to make of me. We parted mutually satisfied, I musing on what had passed. I am now let into her secret and she forever barred from mine – Are there more Miss Pickfords in the world than I have before thought of –

Came in to dinner a little before 7 – Had ordered George to have the gig ready a little before 9 in the morning to go to Huddersfield to speak to Pontey about coming over to plan our new road to the house, etc. – But finding my uncle against it contrary to my expectation – (I had always thought all he said against it in joke) – I immediately countermanded the order very quietly determining never to mention the thing again – Nor to mention planting or otherwise improving the place –

I told my uncle very quietly I certainly would not teaze him any more on the subject; and I shall indeed change my mind, if I do – The thing absolutely did not annoy me at all – I immediately thought to myself, ‘perhaps it is best as it is – I incur no responsibility – etc. etc.’ Perhaps I may save my money in future instead of laying it out on the place and leave things as they are –

Barometer 1 3/4 degrees below changeable Fahrenheit 56º at 9 p.m. – Rainy morning till between 10 & 11, afterwards a shower or 2 which I escaped and otherwise a toleraby fine day i.e. fine afternoon and evening – Came upstairs at 10 25/60. E [two dots, treating venereal complaint] O [three dots, signifying much discharge] Missed washing just before dinner –

Miss Pickford called this morning and sat a little while with my aunt – She brought me Samouelle’s system of Entomology to read –

[sideways in margin] Major P– [Priestley], speaking of horses that went near the ground, called daisy-croppers – i.e. going so near the ground as to crop or strike off the tops of the daisies – Drove along the new road today for the 1st time

“the soldier and his chére amire“– Points of humour; illustrated by the designs of George Cruikshank [x]

[maximumninjavoid]

Mining for Unobtanium Chapter 28

Oh ho......... Why yes, I am.  And here’s some more for you thirsty wenches. The twenty Eight installment of my fic. I know, right? I just can’t stop.

Un Beta’s, we die like chocolate in a child’s pocket.

The usual warnings, I suppose18 AND OVER, nsfw,  BDSM and all that,

Dinner was lovely. The roast turned out perfectly, precisely mid rare, and while Henry wasn't looking someone must have given Kal  trimmings. I have no idea who that could have been. Oh. I imagine you're wondering about whether or not we talked about ethical ownership over dinner. We didn't. Someone was still butt hurt  that the whole cock warming  thing didn't go the way he had read about it. When there's no friction, even as randy of a buck as he is, one's member won't stay throbbing and tumescent. And if I'm not supposed to move, well, then, that's less friction. So,it sounded good in theory, but it was not as fun as he thought, having me kind of in his way and not really getting any benefit. I could sort of sense that it wasn't entirely what he had planned, and so, good girl that I was being, I got up, apologizing profusely for OBVIOUSLY doing something incorrectly, and laying myself face down over his lap for *correction*. We're always at least three steps ahead of you. Don't kid yourselves. He place one hand between my shoulder blades and told me to count and that other hand came down on my ass like a big meaty brick. "One, Sir". He smacked my ass again. "Two, Sir" I could feel him getting hard now, so I squirmed and wiggled, because, friction. He slipped his hand between my cheeks and commented about how this was getting me wet, and smacked my ass again and then fingered my cunt. "Three, Sir, I'm sorry" and I can feel my walls gripping his fingers, and I'm thinking maybe he's not thinking about spanking me anymore. As sure as God made little green apples, he grabs a fist full of my hair, right at the base, oh GOD THAT FEELS so good, I moaned and he practically tosses me over the arm of the sofa and jams that huge dick all the way home, one stroke. I gasped. Ok, maybe I screamed. But, not in a bad way, and he had one hand at my waist the other in my hair and I was definitely going to be walking differently Every snap of his hips shoved his cock to my cervix, and threatened to split me in two. And I kept trying to push back for more. "Oh God Daddy, please..." "Please, what?" Please let me cum all over your cock, Daddy" "You're forgiven darling, cum for Daddy." And I came apart, Shuddering, tears, unglued. And he roared like some animal, and I felt him pulsing ropes of his seed into me, and he collapsed on top of me like a weighted blanket with hair.  This was heaven, surely. Consciousness returned. He got up, I moved to get something to clean up with, I brought him a drink and a damp towel, because, service. I asked permission to check on dinner and popped out for a few drags off a cigarette. I plated and served dinner and returned to tell him that his dinner was ready. There was only his place set at the table. He gave me that eyebrow thing again. "Assumptions, remember? It may not be my place to dine with you. What if you were having guests? What if you preferred I sit at your feet and eat only what you feed me from your hand? " "If I have guests?" "Sir. If you wished it, I would cook for guests. And serve." "Wearing what you're wearing now?" "That would be your choice, and I'm not wearing anything now. I could wear only what you allow, choose or what you tell me." It was a bit to process. He bade me get a plate and eat with him, and we talked about the scripts, and the music I had picked and he didn't appear to want to talk about heavier things. So we had a delightful dinner, filled with small talk. It was comfortable and I enjoyed every minute I spent in his company. He was so well versed, about so many topics. I tried to tempt him with dessert. I should have known he would refuse. I sent him off to relax and do whatever and I did the washing up, tidied up the kitchen and asked if he wanted tea or coffee. He asked me to come sit with him, and I did. Happily. We watched a movie, cuddled on the couch, heaven. I asked to get up for a moment, he nodded. I got upstairs before he did and turned down the bed. I fluffed his pillows and smoothed the duvet, and went back down to tell him that all was ready for him to retire, unless there was anything else. Did he want a bath? A massage?  He looked at me and took my hand and said " Come darling, let's go to bed" I followed him, with my hand in his, We got to the bed and I asked his permission.  "What?"   " Well, you didn't say that this is where I sleep. If you'd prefer, I could sleep at the foot of the bed, or, if I had not earned it, then I should sleep on the floor. One never assumes. Privileges are gifts." " You really ARE a good girl, aren't you? I'm never going to get to spank you again " " Not for disobeying, no. But I am yours to do with as you see fit. If you desire to spank me, or flog me, or what have you, you don't need a reason." "Well there's my plan for tomorrow then" and he pulled me into his arms and kissed me thoroughly.  We got into bed all wrapped up in each other, Kal making room for himself and safe and happy I drifted off to sleep. I awoke the next morning melting. Between the blast furnace that was Henry and the baby bear known as Kal I swear, I was going to melt. I had to figure out how to get out from between them, one of them tightened their grip and the other one made a growly noise. I pried his arm loose and inelegantly slid out of the bottom of the bed. I headed for the shower and my morning routine, and managed not to wake either bear. I tiptoe downstairs, made coffee and brought a cup for him and set it on the nightstand. I couldn't help myself. I just stood there and looked at him. Committed it to memory. Tried to burn it into my brain. I thought about waking him up with a blow job, but figured Kal needed to go out . I tossed on a hoodie and jeans and took the puppy for his morning ritual. When I got back, I took off my clothes, put them away and brought fresh coffee for His Lordship.  He was in the shower, so I stepped in to wash his back. "Good morning ! Did you sleep well?" "Mmm yes, I did but it was odd waking up in the bed by myself" "Oh, do tell? Hot and cold running starlets Sir?" He laughed."No, I was referring to Kal. And you, of course." "Oh, I melted. You both throw off a great deal of heat. " He turned and kissed me. I put my arms around his neck, and came in closer, loving the feel of his chest against mine, the hair on this chest making my nipples hard. I slid down the front of him taking him in my mouth and cupping his balls with my hand . Eagerly I began to slide my mouth up and down his member, loving the feel of him growing as I sucked. He leaned back against the tile and held my face in his hands . I looked up at him and he began to fuck my face. Breathe through your nose, if you don't breathe through your nose on the down stroke you'll gag, and that's NOT sexy. I tried to relax and take him deeper down my throat but the angle wasn't great. I settled for wrapping my other hand around what wouldn't fit and trying to coordinate my movements. He began thrusting faster, and I felt his muscles tense. Protein for breakfast. My favorite! I ducked out of the shower, dried myself and had a towel waiting to hand him, brought his coffee in from the bedroom, kissed his shoulder and asked what he wanted for breakfast and when. " My God, woman, you spoil me so. I could get used to this." After breakfast we started playing with toys. We went through a bunch of impact toys, floggers of various weights and feels, stingy, thuddy, canes, paddles, from neck to knees I was quite marked. We did a bit with different kinds of restraint, but I admit, I'm not that great of a teacher. Bondage and restraint has never been my thing. In between toys, or implements, Henry was very sweet and caring, telling me how good I did and being very affectionate. It was loads of fun, really. I don't bottom that often, he's a very apt pupil, I was so incredibly turned on. My thighs were shiny with arousal, I swear, if he'd have so much as looked at me right, I would have cum without him touching me. My cunt was throbbing and it was all I could do not to try and squeeze one off. There were a couple of bumps, I suppose. I mean, I expected them, really. Henry really liked caning. I don't know if it's cultural, or a boarding school thing, but he really liked it. He probably would have loved it more if he got to push my skirt up over my hips and yank down my knickers, but he was SO enthusiastic, that I wound up with some really nasty ugly bruises a day or two later. Remember, canes, that's deep tissue bruising, hard to see immediate results.  Luckily I'm an indestructible old beast, and the wince when I sat just made me wet. Henry felt terrible, poor dear. That wasn't the bad one. The bad one was my four foot signal whip. It had been hand made for me, always behaved like an extension of my arm. But while I call it a toy, that's a weapon. I mean, I have other weapons in my toy bag. Knives, scalpels, needles, but Henry was really drawn to this whip. We negotiated. I walked him through its use, we discussed where not to strike, we talked about how that crack is the end of the whip breaking the sound barrier, and I put a brand new cracker on it, in case he broke skin. Because, no blood transfer. We aren't fluid bonded in that way. He was doing really well, and I was really enjoying that fiery kiss of each strike. I knew I'd have some lovely marks, too.  But then Gigantor leaned into one. Doesn't really know his own strength. It's not his fault. But the whip did what the whip does, and opened up a three inch slice on my hip, and you could see meat. That was going to leave a Mark. Henry dropped the whip and rushed to me, taking me down from the frame we had fashioned. I was according to him a bit pale. He scooped me up and carried me to the bathroom and cleaned up the wound. I bit my lip and didn't scream, but I knew he was going to have difficulties moving forward. I'm on bloodthinners. And I knew it wasn't going to stop easily. He applied pressure and I told him why it wasn't working properly and where the steri strips were in my things. He's got great hands. He really does. Handles himself well in a crisis. Very solid. So I'm all put back together and now he's fussing. He's taking care of me, while I should still be taking care of him. Haven't let me get up, much less do anything, and he's really being way too hard on himself for something that frankly could have happened to anyone. "Henry. HENRY. Darling boy, STOP." And with that tone of voice ,he stopped, and the control was once again not his. " Come here, please, love" Henry came and sat next to me. "I'm sorry. I apologize for 'pulling rank' but I couldn't get you to stop fussing. Please, love. I'm fine. I promise. I won't ever lie to you. This is not that kind of a relationship. In fact, I've quite fallen for you, and that is going to hurt worse than this oops ever could. Why you've stolen my heart Cavill. And every minute that I have with you is a precious gift. Please, STOP berating yourself. Everyone, and I mean everyone had a story like this to tell. Now you have yours. It's a rite of initiation I  guess. If you meet someone down the road and they say they're one of us, ask them for their oops story. If they don't have one, they've never played." " Now if I were a horrid human, I'd pout and say you should take pity on me and feed me, and then make love to me to make it all better, but ill settle for help me up so I can go to the bathroom and freshen up?"

@fishcustardandclintbarton @indigosaurus @whyyoudothistomecavill @michellemybelles-world @henrythickcavill @angryschnauzer @littlefreya

[graveyard-in-the-void]

- A masterclass in worlds between worlds - (Hey, what do you get if you put every Henry into a designated bar? A very bad time and not only because of the theoretical possibility that Hans Dsaftale might be there with the others. Now, what do you get if you LOCK one of the Henry’s into the bar as punishment for almost getting his own universe destroyed? A very exhausted Henry who’s just trying to make sense of the things he is seeing. If he hates it, at least he wants to understand it.)

- - - “Okay.” Henry started. Everyone was listening up as soon as that simple word was leaving his lips. This would be entertaining. It always was. Sure, there was some groaning in the back, but even they knew that would be hilarious. Lengthy, but hilarious. Well, maybe they would be the only ones laughing, but they don’t count their losses. Free entertainment is free entertainment. Henry stared into the people around him, before scoffing and pulling out an incredibly large board, with multiple pins on it, as well as notes and photos. “Hear me out. I have cracked the code.” Ah, one of these. “This will be one of the more lengthy of these, so you will need to bear with me.” One final cough from the audience and he was good to go. “Fantastic. Now, I want to introduce a concept to you. And I think it is something groundbreaking, as it is connecting to the very concept of souls. Alright, let us start off with the core concept of a soul. If it is an imprint of our very self, of our deepest emotions, desires and motivation, what truly moves us… then it is not only logical conclusion, that it also what dictates what draws us in or repels us? Of course it is. Thus, we can easily conclude that our soul ITSELF has needs and desires. “We like what we like” and “you should not fight over taste” are very wise statements indeed, absolutely true. But where do these tastes even come from? From our soul? Our liking for colors, aesthetics, for food and for music? Yes, surely there is a very psychological connection to it, due to experience, but… I think it runs deeper. What does this imply? That our souls comes inherently with NEEDS, with desires coming from our deepest core that we cannot possibly satisfy ourselves. This is further proven by our DEPENDANCE on other people. “The human is a social animal”- but what does that mean? How can a creature perish merely because of lack of contact? Perhaps it is hardwired into our spirits to need the interaction of ideas, the essence of others, because we cannot provide this for ourselves.“ The place broke out in quiet mumbling, while Henry adjusted the board behind him, to connect the dots visually. “Now, that we have established that every soul has needs, I think we can directly move onto the concept that every soul has DIFFERENT needs. It would make sense to try to find similarities in the needs from soul to soul, as you would assume it has the same baseline… but due to our experiences with souls, we have to accept that in terms of needs, souls differentiate severely from each other. Much like plants are awfully different based on species, I am willing to admit that souls CAN be similar in their nature and have similar needs, but souls exist in borderline endless versions, meaning most souls widely differentiate from another.” He paused, dramatically. The room was silent. “What does it mean, you ask?” Nobody actually asked anything. “I am glad you asked. Why is this important? Simple. Self-control and optimization. During my studies of multiple different multiverses, I realized an abhorrent flaw in the mental system that is me. Mainly, and believe me dear audience, I hate to say it, my draw to what I tend to consider “weakness”. Yes, I know, I know. Implausible. Impossible! But it is true. Except, it is not WEAKNESS." He smashed both of his hands on the bar in front of him. "It certainly seems like it and technically speaking IS weakness, but it is not outright weakness. It is not cowardice, it is not indecisiveness, it is not ignorance, which I all would call true symptoms of weakness. Fragility might also be a part of it, but not necessarily. That is what makes it so intriguing. And by fragility I do not quite mean instantaneous shattering. It is more a mixture of dependence and- okay, I think there is a lot of it to do with dependence. But what is there to dependence? Whatever would make that alluring? I will tell you. It took me a while, but my working theory is this: There is some sort of... resonance, dare I say. An echo of our own fear and worry, we see in them something we fear to be in us! And thus, caring for that person, defeating the weakness within them, satisfying the dependence, it proves to us we can defeat it within ourselves as well!" One of the attendance rose his hand. "Okay, but what about simple narcissist function? Occam's razor. The easiest answer is that we are simply searching for supply for our ego." The presenting Henry wildly waved his hand around in disgust. "No! That is not what it is. Obviously. Otherwise, the codependency that at least somewhat evolves even from our side would not grow WORSE. We would grow tired of it. But that is not happening. No, the longer it goes on, the worse it gets! The only reasonable solution is to assume that our traits are calling out for those that will COVER them. Our loyalty and capability calls for NEED in the other soul, for insecurity and reliability. Trustworthiness, for our loyalty. Our detachment from any given reality calls out for something that we directly can control and influence, a real, breathing example of our effect that we can have. There is an incredibly fragile balance to be struck, of need and trustworthy purity, as well as absolute willingness to give up everything that makes them themselves in the first place, as we have some sort of all-consuming ego, with our individuality being our most important part, so important in fact that we need to be able to impose it onto others to feel secure-" He was interrupted. "So you are saying we are some sort of former eldritch abomination given human flesh for some reason still trying to live out or former desires?" Henry paused a bit irritated. "I mean... maybe? Unlikely, but-" Another voice. "Hey, does this "calling out" thing not imply that people who get attracted to people who torment them deserve it? Because if so, that is pretty fucked up of you." "No! I mean- well, we are talking about underlying NEEDS, that does not necessary equate to it being lived out in-" A pink Naga leaned back. "No, no, I agree. Prey isss prey. It cannot bear being anything different. It needsss to feel like it." "Shut up, nobody asked you." A bit annoyed Henry tried to dismiss him. Desperately he tried to get back to the point he was trying to make for what felt like an hour by now. "I propose the following: There is not actually such a thing as soulmate, but it is more akin to a spiritual form of chemical bonding. Some bond easier than others, like hydrogen. For souls that mean they have less specific requirements to keep up a truly fulfilling bond, or have an easier time filling the other's lacking traits without needing much back. What is needed from their bond is what we call out via our souls, creating a type, but said type is intended to cover the things our souls cannot satisfy or eradicate within itself. Thus, my conclusion is that a soul bond forms for a soul much more on what people lack than their strength. If the lacks fit well with the lacking of the other person, they manage to fall into place-" This time he wasn't even allowed to rant. The bartender Henry next to him gave him a flick with his demonic tail and poured himself a drink. "I love it when people who never had a relationship try to explain them. Very cute." "I- TECHNICALLY speaking you can become an expert on everything via the theory, I did a lot of studies-" "Oh god, wait, so you cucked yourself?" The succubus watched with delight as the most annoying Henry's face went from pale to red. "Cut it out you filthy whore." "You are merely jealous that unlike you, I not only get to fuck my boyfriend all day, but also get magical abilities for it." That was enough, the poor Henry, who was just trying to find answers, held his ears closed like some sort of child and had a silent breakdown. It wasn't easy hanging out with such an awful version of yourself. Especially if that version couldn't stand you and loved to tease you about shortcomings that he would of course know by heart. The other Henrys lost interest at that point. Show's over. And nobody learned anything. No, it wasn't quite the void, but Henry surely wished to get back there instead of being stuck here, serving drinks to his much more pathetic, yet somehow much more successful versions. Oh, hell had many faces. For now he had to deal.

[mysamcedesmadness]

So, Are We Gonna Discuss This, Or…?

Charlotte and her pros and cons! She wished that she could be more impulsive, but that never hurt her before… Well… maybe. She was quite frigid in many ways and it meant a lot to her that her closest friends didn't care. But she and Henry were getting pretty close and serious. They were going into their last year of high school. They might not see much of each other beyond that and the girls around him were getting bolder and fresher all the time. Charlotte estimated that it was probably time for "the talk."

And how does one, Charlotte Page, go about having the talk? Well, she certainly wasn't going to just say "We need to talk about this." She could have and maybe should have, but that seemed to her to leave too much room for confusion. How could she possibly talk about something that she was only vaguely familiar with?

Charlotte prepared a Lincoln Douglas Debate to decide), researched STDs & STIs, sexual health risks vs benefits of sex, and high school relationship sustainability and success before and after sex before she even breached the subject with Henry. By the time she finished, she knew what she wanted to do. She was ready, but Henry had to be ready to. She had to be confident that he knew what she knew and they had to talk about it.

Breaching the subject sounded a lot like nervous energy in human form. "I've prepared a debate for you to feast your eyes upon.." she said, then awkwardly thought about how that was the nerdiest presentation she had ever made.

"No thanks," Henry said and handed the paper printout with various sticky notes and edits back to her. She flipped it to the front page, which was a bright yellow cover with bold black letters that read “SEX”, and much smaller subprint, “So, Are We Gonna Discuss This, Or…?” But, Henry only saw the largest word on the paper, and he snatched it from her and shoved it into his shirt. "What're you doing? Someone could've seen that!" He looked around the man cave for their friends, but Ray and Schwoz were in the middle of something and Jasper was down in the store.

“Someone needs to see it. You.” She handed him green sticky notes and finished with, “Any notes or questions you have, use these. I don’t want the version in our shared documents to get cluttered and you miss out on information, like you’ve been known to do.”

He scoffed a few times as he placed the notes in his pocket and she went to the control panel. Where on Earth would he keep this thing, in the meantime? He rolled it up, put it in his back pocket, and checked on it with extreme paranoia the entire time he was there. Later on, whenever he was at home, the first thing that he did was make the time to read it. He lit some candles scented to help with concentration, made sure the lighting in the room was efficient, washed up, got into comfortable clothes and made himself comfortable - suggestions that Charlotte had given him for when he had to read a lot (because he honestly hated reading, most of the time) - and he settled with the document, the sticky notes and his pencil.

There were a lot of facts in this thing and there was a lot of science. There were risks that he didn’t consider. There was social pressure that he had not thought about (regarding her). There was… A lot to stop and think about. By the time he finished, he knew what he wanted to do. He was not ready. They had to wait. There was going to be some deep thoughts about all of this fresh information.

He was no longer as sure as his body usually was when they were alone together. Reading her research, eloquently presented as an argument for and against it, he just wasn’t sure if he measured up enough to put her in that position and to take on that type of responsibility.

Charlotte was sad to hear that, but respected his wishes and was relieved that these weren’t issues that he thought about after making that decision. They could wait. It wasn’t like she was frothing or anything. But honestly, if not Henry, what kind of person might she wind up with? Her research came across some horror stories of people who went to college, relationships fell apart and they wound up losing their virginity in some regrettable act of deviance and independence. She wanted it to be safe and comfortable with somebody that she loved and trusted. And she was Charlotte Page for crying out loud. Let’s be real… It could take another lifetime for “somebody that she loved and trusted” to come along. Maybe, he just needed a little bit of time… to realize that she was most likely the greatest good that he was gonna get.  She chuckled to herself as she had this thought.

The three of them had a sleepover at Henry’s the weekend of Jasper’s birthday. Jasper noticed that they were behaving oddly. For one thing, Henry wasn’t uncontrollably and reflexively touching Charlotte every single chance that he got and hardly whispering inside jokes into her ear. Charlotte… Well, she seemed the same as always. So, Jasper had to presume that whatever the issue was, it was something with Henry. When it was semi-late, Charlotte announced, “I’m going to go to sleep.” She got up, gathered her sleeping bag and headed upstairs.

“Goodnight, Charlotte!” Jasper said. She nodded her head and pointed at him, then glanced sadly at Henry and went upstairs. “Soooo… Did you two break up?”

“What? No. We just… Haven’t really been intimate lately.”

“Why not? I thought you two were really serious. What happened?”

Henry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We talked about… You know… Doing the dance…"

"Which one? Like an Internet challenge?"

Henry groaned and whispered it into Jasper's ear. "YOU DID???"

"We only talked about it!" Henry shrugged his shoulders and had to admit, "I didn't know the first thing about doing, well, any of it. I ran over all the information she gave me, and I guess I just felt inadequate. I feel like not only do I not know enough, but if something were to happen… I would mess it all up. I never really thought about it before. I only knew that I wanted it and wanted her. But, if I'm just gonna be unskilled and unknowledgeable, what's the point? She'll judge me, and we both know it."

"How can she judge you when she only knows stuff about it in theory, herself?" Henry shrugged his shoulders. "What did she say to you?"

"That I'm her best friend, she loves me and whatever the emotional risks are, she's brave enough to face, because it's a journey with me."

"That sounds like somebody who wouldn't judge you."

"I don't want her to have to face emotional risks. Like what happens when she's away at college and I'm Kid Danger full time? Or when we've been together for so long that we never realized that we were never meant to be this, it was just convenient?"

"So… You're scared of the emotional risks."

"No! I'm not scared…" he bit his lip and sighed, "I'm terrified. What if I love her more and she gets me out of her system? I mean… I have to believe that a huge portion of her interest is physical attraction and curiosity."

"I don't feel like you're giving Charlotte much credit and that's not fair. She said herself that she loves you. As just her friend you should believe her. And the fact that Charlotte doesn't talk like that, you really should feel honored. Besides, if you don't do it, someone else will as soon as they get permission. So, you'll regret it forever if you don't take the opportunity. When she's gone off to college and comes back with some kinda sexy scientist, you'll kick yourself, and you'll probably try to kick him too. But, she's giving you first dibs and you turn her down? I don't understand that at all."

"I don't want first dibs I want only dibs."

"For now, you've got "only dibs," but I can't imagine she'd wait forever for you."

So, Henry had more to think about. At some point, in the middle of the night, he left Jasper alone on the couch to go cuddle up with Charlotte again. He'd been avoiding too much contact with her since their discussion and now he not only missed her like crazy, but Jasper's advice frightened him into thinking he might lose her if he didn't get it together and grow up.

Charlotte was fast asleep, in her sleeping bag, near the window. Probably thought Henry would want his bed to himself… "Hey, Char?"

"Hmmm?"

"Hey, let's get in bed, okay, Babe?"

She sat up and looked at him, slightly angry for waking her up, but he picked her up and laid her in the bed. She rolled over, muttering but was back to sleep before he could even wrap himself around her body.

.

Jasper's basement birthday party was very much so an upgrade from the last time he'd done it. Full of soon to be seniors and a few graduates that he knew, plus Ray and Schwoz. Ray couldn't believe that he had willingly come here, but he heard that there would be fiesta sized churros and he felt like he deserved that.

Several minutes into his fourth chunk o' churro, he looked over at "the kids," because he heard Charlotte laugh kinda loud, and…

Well, she was sitting on top of a bench, Henry was leaning against it, but he was rested right in between her legs… facing her.

Ray was going to comment on it but, Henry turn to face Jasper and talk so he let it go. But, Henry was right there, for most of the day. Eventually, he moved to go to the bathroom. Charlotte got up for ice cream and churro. Whenever he returned, she sat in his lap, with his arms around her as she finished dessert, then when she was done, she was seated between his legs. They were just carrying on a conversation like that!! He had to find Schwoz!

"Charlotte is publicly allowing Henry to be rested between her legs and vice versa!" Schwoz looked like he had no idea what that was supposed to mean. "Intimate Cuddling IN FRONT OF ONLOOKERS??? Charlotte, Schwoz. This is Charlotte!"

Schwoz rolled his eyes and walked away saying, "Call me when you've got something juicy."

Ray realized that they must have done the deed and tried to get a confession out of Henry. Henry was annoyed by all of the questions such as, "Are you and Charlotte closer than ever before? Might one day that the two of you have become one?" This went on for a while before Charlotte announced that she had to go and Henry, as though that was some kind of dog whistle, cut off Ray mid sentence to rush to her so that they could leave together.

"Before you go, I'll need you to take another oath."

"What, here? At this party?"

"You need to immediately promise me that Kid Danger comes first, no matter what's in your mind, your eyesight, and…" he whispered, "your pants."

"Alright, I'm not saying any of that. See you later. Gotta go. Char's parents are gone and we're gonna have a Flick & Chill night."

"You'd better be chilling fully clothed!"

Henry's face told that was not in his plans, but he gave Ray a thumbs up anyway. "At least be safe," Ray said quietly.

"Dude..  I'm with Charlotte. I'm the safest man in Swellview."

Even though he knew that Henry meant because Charlotte was always efficient and thorough, Ray wanted to crack a joke about it being because nobody else in Swellview had ever, or ever would, get that close to Charlotte; but as the two of them took off up the stairs, hand in hand, he had nothing. Henry probably would be livid if he had said anything like that. The Kid was clearly all in with her now, no pun intended.

[lilacmoon83]

Dreaming Out Loud

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 164: Flaws

After leaving the Inn and threatening Owen, or Greg Mendell, as he was now calling himself, Regina sat despondently in her car, across from the diner. She knew it would only cause her pain and sure enough, it did, as she watched him come out of the diner with his family, beaming from ear to ear. She still couldn't believe it. Rumpelstiltskin's son and Snow White's daughter were the birth parents of her precious Henry. Fate certainly did have a sadistic sense of humor. She longed for the days before the curse was broken, before David Nolan was awake and Mary Margaret was a lonely, miserable wallflower, and before Emma Swan. Before all that, there had been a time where she and Henry were very happy; a time when she was all he ever needed. But those times were gone and she had been brainstorming on ways to get them back. However, Jefferson had been right about what he told her just a few months ago. The changes that Emma had brought couldn't just be undone. There was no putting back this open can of worms now, no matter how much she wished it.

Earlier that day, she had gone through her mother's things and found a written curse tucked away in one of her gowns. She knew her mother had meant for her to find this particular curse. It was the curse of the empty-hearted. In theory, it had the power to make someone think they loved you. She had instantly thought about using it on Henry, but the price was that she needed the heart of the person she hated most. It was brilliant, theoretically and exactly the thing her mother would leave her. If enacted, this curse would give her Henry and get her vengeance on Snow. But it was an impossible feat. Getting Snow's blood had been difficult enough and that had been with Hermes' help. Her heart...that was a different story entirely. While Persephone could not protect Snow twenty-four hours a day, she was on extra high alert with Hades in town. Which meant that it was likely that she had placed all kinds of protection spells on and around her daughter and family, ones they might not even been aware of. And with protection spells naturally came the one that prevented a heart rip. Regina's magic was powerful, but knew it was really no match for Persephone's.

"Thank you Mother...but unfortunately, it isn't meant to be," she muttered sadly, as she watched the dwarves drive up in David's truck. They got out and tossed the keys to the Prince, before heading into the diner with the former giant. That was odd, indeed, and she wondered what it was all about.

Curiously, she got out of her car once they left and using her magic, she enchanted the road to show her the tire tracks. With that, Regina followed them out into the outskirts of town and found that they ended in an empty field. She got out of the car and found a barrier spell was in place and not one that was strong enough to be Persephone's. In fact, if she had to guess, it was probably a fairy spell. She waved her hand and revealed what the field was hiding. She was shocked to see a full crop of beans...magic beans. She pursed her lips and confiscated a pod that had two beans in it. Perhaps getting revenge on Snow wasn't possible, but maybe getting Henry back could be with these beans...

~*~

Henry bounded into the loft, as they arrived home that evening. Neal was with them, as Emma had agreed to allow him to come tuck Henry in.

"Thanks for letting me come...I know this all still pretty weird," he mentioned. She shrugged.

"You're Henry's dad and he loves you. I only want him to be happy," she replied.

"Hey Gramps...if we're not going back to the Enchanted Forest, then why is Tiny and the dwarves growing the beans?" Henry asked curiously.

"Well...Tiny offered to grow them for us and while we may have decided that Storybrooke is our home now, we also decided that as leaders, it's only right that we offer others a way to leave if they want to," David explained.

"Yeah...and since leaving Storybrooke for others requires spells that aren't easy to replicate, we decided that we could offer this choice instead," Snow added.

"Do you think that if there is enough beans someday that we can visit the Enchanted Forest and then come home?" he asked, looking at his parents. Emma and Neal exchanged a glance.

"Uh...I don't know. But I guess it's something we could definitely talk about," Emma said with uncertainty.

"Yeah...but for now, I think we should get you ready for bed," Neal interjected. Henry nodded.

"Wanna see my comic book collection?" Henry asked excitedly. Neal smiled.

"Sure kid...let's go up and see. You know, I have a pretty good stack myself back in New York. We'll have to compare someday," he mentioned.

"That would be awesome. Mom...do you think we could all go to New York? Grams and Gramps too? Henry asked. Emma smiled.

"Ah well...if things keep calm around here, maybe that trip can happen soon," she agreed tentatively. Neal ruffled his hair.

"Let's go look at those comic books," Neal said.

"For a little while and then brush your teeth and get ready for bed," Emma called, as he bounded upstairs to the loft with Neal following. Emma sighed and Snow went to the kitchen.

"How about some cocoa?" she asked. Emma smiled and nodded, as she sat at the island.

"That sounds great, Mom," she agreed. The loft door opened and Persephone walked through. She shed her coat and hung it up, before joining them in the kitchen.

"Cocoa?" Snow asked. She smiled.

"If you spike it with vodka," she replied. Snow frowned and put the milk down.

"So it was a bad day? I figured considering it's about thirty degrees in April," Snow mentioned. Persephone smiled thinly.

"I'm sorry about that...I've never been very good at controlling my emotions when it comes to Hades...or you for that matter," she responded.

"You confronted him, didn't you?" Emma asked. She nodded.

"I had to...I had to make sure that he's not here to undo the trappings I placed Deimos in," she replied.

"And is he?" David asked.

"He says he isn't...he says he has no intention of releasing him," she answered.

"But you don't believe him," Snow guessed.

"I'm not sure what to believe anymore. Hermes is obviously just as confused by his behavior and even I have to admit that he's...different," Persephone replied.

"Different how?" David asked curiously.

"In many ways. For instance, my constant disdain and defiance of him is usually met with anger. But now he just seems amused by me," Persephone replied.

"That is kind of strange," Emma mentioned.

"And it gets stranger...I think something happened in the Underworld," Persephone said.

"Like what?" David asked. She shrugged.

"I don't know, that's the thing. He says that something happened and that he's protecting me...us by not telling me. Which sounds like his usual load of crap...but I don't know…" Persephone said, as she tried to put it into words.

"I've known him a very long time...I've been married to him for centuries and it's like...he's a different person. I just don't know what to think," she lamented.

"Is there any way you might be able to find out what happened there without asking him?" Emma questioned.

"Short of going there...I'm not sure. I should probably speak to my mother though," she replied.

"Do you think she might come here?" Snow asked curiously. Persephone smiled.

"I know she wants and now that Hades is here, I wouldn't be surprised if she finds a way here. She was the second person that held you, you know," Persephone said, as she took her cup and went up to the loft. Snow smiled, as she watched her go and David pressed a kiss to her hair. Snow served their cocoa and Emma sipped at hers, just as Neal came down the stairs.

"He brushed his teeth and he's all tucked in. Thanks again for letting me do that," he said, as they eyes met. She smiled.

"Henry's pretty stoked about having you in his life...and I promise that we'll work out some sort of custody thing. It's just complicated...with Regina and everything," Emma replied. But he held up his hands.

"Emma...no pressure. He's in good hands with you and your parents," he assured. She nodded.

"You know we need to talk about this though. I mean...the kid would love nothing more than for you to move here to Storybrooke," she mentioned. He nodded.

"I know...and it's something Tamara and I have to talk about. She's...not going to want to move here," he replied.

"And neither do you," Emma realized.

"I honestly don't know. When I first came here, that would have been a hard no. But now...I mean Henry is here and suddenly there is a lot less to leave behind in New York than I remember, save for Tamara, of course," he replied. She nodded.

"I get it…" she said. He sighed.

"Whatever happens...I promise that Henry's not going to get hurt," he said. She smiled thinly.

"That's what matters," she agreed, as she saw him out.

"That was tense," David muttered, as he slid his arms around Snow from behind.

"Yes…" she said sadly.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I just...what if Neal does go back to New York? I'm not sure I like the idea of Henry not being here in town sometimes," she replied.

"Me either...but I'm not sure his grandparents get a say, my darling," he said. She sighed and put their cups in the sink.

Meanwhile, Emma saw Neal out and realized that he had dropped a card on the steps.

"Hey...you dropped this…" she said, as she trailed off and looked at the card.

"Oh...that's nothing," he insisted, as he snatched it away.

"Nothing? Because it looks like something," Emma replied, with a note of anger.

"Emma…" he started to explain.

"Calyn Barlos...Family Attorney at law? That's nothing?" she questioned.

"She's a friend of Tamara's and she gave me the card, but I never had any intention of making that call," he assured. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Emma...I wouldn't do that to our son! I know how much he loves his family and Storybrooke," he insisted.

"I hope for your sake that's true. People can't find out about this town, Neal. Tamara knows that, right? She knows what could happen if people knew about this place," she argued.

"Of course she knows...this was before I told her everything. She's not going to do anything to put Storybrooke in danger," he insisted. Emma sighed.

"I really hope you're right," she replied. He sighed and tore up the card to hopefully satisfy her.

"I don't need it, so it's gone," he assured, as he went down the stairs and Emma went back inside. She saw her parents in the kitchen and her mother giggled at something her father was whispering in her ear.

"Honey...are you okay?" Snow asked. Emma put on a smile for them.

"Yeah...I'm fine. I think I'll go tuck the kid in and go to bed myself," she replied, as she hurried upstairs. They frowned.

"I don't think she's okay at all," Snow fretted.

"Definitely not...but you know Em. She'll come to us when she's ready. I think this is one of those times that it will be best not to push," he admonished. She sighed. She knew she did that a lot, but it was only because she wanted to solve all her daughter's problems. But she knew that she couldn't and that his approach was right in this instance. Whatever was between Neal and Emma had to be hashed out between them. They could be there to comfort her and give her advice, but only when she came to them. So she would reluctantly take her husband's lead on this one.

"You're right...I do push too much," she agreed. He kissed her cheek.

"She knows it's because you love her so much. And I promise that she'll come to us. She always does," he assured, as he took her hand and led her to their bed. He sat down and pulled her down into his lap.

"I think bed is a very good idea for us too right now," he purred. She smiled and kissed him.

"I agree...but I hope not just to sleep?" she asked coyly. He smirked and pulled the curtains around their bed.

"Oh no...never just to sleep, my love," he agreed, as their lips met again.

As their lips parted, Snow bit her bottom lip and started unbuttoning his shirt. He shed it and let it fall to the floor, before kissing her again. She mewled, as his lips trailed down her slender neck and she gasped, as he cupped her breasts. Her hands went to his belt and she undid it, as their lips parted and he grabbed the hem of her shirt, before pulling it over her head. Her skirt was next and he hooked his arm around her waist, as he slid them up the bed, allowing her head to fall to the pillow. They smiled at each other and the tossed the covers up and over them, as they gave way to their unbridled passion...

~*~

The dream started out quite pleasant. The scene was in his shop with Henry blowing out birthday candles. He, Belle, Snow, and Charming looked on and clapped like the proud grandparents that they were. Emma and Neal clapped as well, with Neal putting his hands on his boy's shoulders and Emma doting on him, before going to cut the cake.

"And now, my boy, for your birthday present. Pick one object from the shop. Anything you like," Gold offered. Henry walked around looking for something and then stopped, as he pointed at the wands.

"That," Henry stated, as he picked up a wand and waved it around.

"Alright, careful buddy. Wands are powerful," Neal warned. Henry turned to Mr. Gold.

"So...how does it work?" he asked.

"Here...let me show you," Rumple replied, as Henry handed the wand to him. Mr. Gold waved it through the air for a moment and then suddenly turned Henry into a ceramic statue with a flick of his wrist. The others present in the shop cried out in terror.

"Gold...why would you do that?!" David demanded to know.

"The Prophecy. The seer said the boy would be my undoing. So I have no choice...I must be his," Rumple answered, as he took his cane and shattered the statue.

~*~

Rumpelstiltskin jolted awake and sat up in bed, as he breathed heavily, with the dream still weighing heavily on him. Truthfully, he hadn't thought about that prophecy in a very long time. But now that he had his son back, he recalled the seer's foreboding warning; that a boy would be his undoing. Fate certainly was a tricky bitch, for in all his foresight, he had never imagined that the boy he had vowed to destroy so long ago would be his own grandson. If the prophecy was to be believed, then his own mortality could be tied to Henry's existence. But if he were to do the unthinkable, then Belle would shun him. She'd never forgive such an atrocity, nor would the others, obviously. And while that had never stopped him before, it made him pause now. He rather liked the life they had now. He had love now. He still had power. He had family and friends once again. But at the same time, if he died, then he would lose that. However, if he killed Henry, his own flesh and blood, then he would lose everyone in his life, not to mention, quite possibly what was left of his darkened soul. Yes...fate was quite the sadist. But perhaps this was one prophecy that he could thwart. After all, the visions of the future weren't always exactly clear.

In a way, he had become a much different version of himself; much like the man he had once been before power. Did he dare hope that the supposed unmaking of him could be more metaphorical than literal? Did he dare entertain that notion? Family and friends had certainly made him softer. He actually did things for them without making deals now. There was no quid pro quo anymore really. He offered help and in turn they had helped him; in fact far more than he had ever thought non-magical persons could.

Regardless of these musings though, Rumple knew that killing his own flesh and blood would cost him everything he now held dear in his life. At the same time, the possibility of his own demise still frightened him deeply as well. He decided that there likely would be no more sleeping tonight and he quietly left the bed so as not to disturb Belle. He proceeded down to the basement. Perhaps things would become more clear after spinning for a while.

~*~

"He did what?!" Greg exclaimed, as they walked along the darkened streets of Storybrooke.

"I'm surprised too...it was so blatant, which proves that they can't hide it. This town is lousy with magic," Tamara confirmed.

"He actually, like teleported you back to New York?" Greg asked in disbelief. She nodded.

"In a puff of smoke, I was suddenly at the top of the Empire State Building and in another puff of smoke, I was back in the diner. But that's not all I found out," she replied, as she pulled out a piece of paper.

"Neal made this for me to try and help me come to terms with this place," she said, as she handed him the piece of paper.

"He actually handed you their identities?" he asked with a snort.

"I know...he's making this too easy. But he trusts me," she replied.

"Snow White and Prince Charming?" he asked. She nodded.

"Emma Swan's parents. He's her deputy and her pixie haired mother is the new Mayor," she answered. He snorted again.

"And it gets better," she added.

"Does it? Did you send this to the Home Office?" he asked. She nodded.

"Already done...they're going to bursting at the seams to mobilize with all this information," she replied.

"What else did you find?" he asked.

"Well...this thirty degree weather isn't just an unfortunate cold snap from the remainder of winter. It's Persephone doing this. I overheard Snow White say her mother wasn't in a good mood today and that's why it's cold. Apparently her emotions can affect the weather; more evidence that magic is evil," Tamara informed.

"Wait...Snow White's mother is Persephone? As in Queen of the Underworld?" Greg asked. She nodded.

"Apparently so…" she responded.

"That wasn't in the Disney version," he joked.

"Wait...does that mean her father is Hades?" he asked. Tamara shrugged.

"I don't know...but Hades himself is here. It's the reason Persephone's mood is quite sour or so I heard," she replied.

"I knew this town was an abomination...but even more so than we thought," he mentioned.

"Don't worry...with this information, I'm certain the Home Office will soon be ready to make a move," she replied.

"Does Neal suspect anything?" Greg questioned.

"Not a thing," she confirmed.

"You're sure?" he questioned again.

"Don't worry about Neal...I'll handle him. Any luck finding your dad?" she asked. He shook his head.

"No...but I know he's here. I'm sure of it," Greg responded.

"We will find him," she assured.

"I know. But one thing at a time. Were you able to get the package here?" he asked. She nodded.

"I did...and we have a deal, but he went and complicated things," she replied.

"What do you mean?" Greg asked.

"I told him to be a nuisance, but he went a step further and got himself arrested. When the time comes, if we expect him to work for us, we'll have to break him out. That won't be easy with Emma Swan and her father running the Sheriff's station," Tamara replied. He smirked.

"Perhaps we'll have to create some distractions for them since our one handed friend isn't available," he responded. She smirked and kissed him.

"Good thinking…" she agreed.

"So now what?" he asked. She shrugged.

"We wait to hear from the Home Office. In the meantime, we can continue to search this town for your father," she replied, as he kissed her again and they headed back to the Inn.

~*~

Jefferson pulled back from looking through his telescope and was startled by what he had seen. He had been unknowingly keeping an eye on their visitor that had crashed into town. He didn't trust Greg Mendell and didn't like that he hadn't made his way out of town yet. And apparently his mistrust was warranted, in more ways than one. He needed to talk to Gold and David first thing in the morning. Because not only did their stranger, Greg Mendell, know this Tamara, but she was cheating on Neal with him. And he had been in this town long enough to know that it was likely there was even more to it than that. Even if there wasn't though, Neal still deserved to know that his fiance was obviously lying to him, probably about a great many things…

~*~

Morning dawned in Storybrooke, bringing about a new day. The April weather prevailed and the temperature was decidedly more tolerable that day, having risen twenty-five degrees already. Henry took that opportunity to fill Snow's bird feeders for her in the small garden, just outside the apartment building. He had an appreciation for the flora and fauna like she did, which should have been no surprise, given his roots and connection to Persephone.

"Good morning, Henry," Regina greeted.

"Um...what are you doing here?" the boy asked.

"I've missed you and I wanted to show you something," Regina replied, as she took something out of her pocket.

"Your family has been keeping this from you, darling. They've been growing magic beans in secret," she said. Henry shrugged.

"It's not really a secret. Gramps just said that we shouldn't tell people in case the beans don't grow. And anyway, I kind of guessed, because Tiny is here and he's a giant," Henry responded.

"So...they did tell you," she muttered.

"Yeah, but it's not a big deal. Mom Emma says that Storybrooke is our home now. And Grams and Gramps agreed with her. I think they just want to give other people a choice," Henry responded.

"Henry...I'm not sure you can trust that. With Hades here, your family may want to take you away. They may try to take you away and leave me behind," Regina said.

"No! That's not true! I asked them and they told me it was for others if they want to leave. Mom Emma said we might take a family trip to New York, but then we'd come home, here to Storybrooke," he refuted.

"But Henry...what about your home with me? What if we went somewhere together where they didn't see me as the Evil Queen? Think about it...I know how much you'd like to go back to the Enchanted Forest. We could do that together and start over," she said.

"Without the rest of my family?" he asked.

"I know it would be hard at first, but they will never see me as anything but the Evil Queen. I can't start over and be the hero that you want me to be with them," she replied. He shook his head.

"That's not true...Grams knows there is good in you, just like me. But you just keep hating her and trying to hurt her," he said in exasperation.

"Henry…she's the one that made me the Evil Queen," Regina insisted.

"No! You made yourself that, because you hurt people! But it's not too late! I know that if you really try to be good that they'll forgive you," he pleaded. Regina looked hurt.

"We don't need them, Henry. It can be good with just the two of us, just like before," she insisted.

"Why do you keep saying that? Are you planning something? Are you going to hurt everyone?" he asked. Another look of hurt passed over her features and she waved her hand over him to freeze him momentarily. With a quick spell, she extracted those memories from the last few minutes and erased them, before unfreezing him.

"Mom? What are you doing here?" Henry asked. She shrugged and smiled.

"I just came to say hello...I've missed you. Why don't you show me that bird feeder," she requested. Henry looked encouraged by her interest and then proceeded to show her.

[hopeduckling13]

Find My Way Back To You: Chapter 11

Summary:  Hope Swan-Jones is the product of the product of true love and her true love, so her having very powerful magic was always in the cards. Luckily she lives in a town where everyone is very familiar with magic, so nothing can go wrong, can it?

Or so everyone thought, but then one day as a newborn Hope accidently travels back in time with her mother Emma.

How will the past population of Storybrooke react to their Savior having another kid and being married? And more importantly will the Savior and her baby daughter find a way back home to all of their loved ones?

- - -

Catch Up:

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14857127/chapters/34395467

FF.NET: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12964592/1/Find-My-Way-Back-To-You

[Prologue] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10]

 --- PAST EMMA’S POV ---

 As my past self talks about how I would never ever abandon Henry again, I realize how much she must know me. That just proves, that she can’t be me besides the obvious things like the baby on her arm earlier. I mostly don’t really know myself too well. This woman only claims to be me – that must be the case. I mean who could honestly believe in time-travel. It’s weird enough that magic exists. She is probably some delusion witch, who pretends to be me out of spite or boredom. She’s probably stalked me ever since I got here to Storybrooke in order to get to know me. She must be very good at that, too, since I always thought, I don’t let anyone see who I really am. Except maybe Henry at times – he wouldn’t do this though. He’s a great kid. He doesn’t really count here anyway. It’s different with him. He’s my son and I love him a lot, so I know that he’s trustworthy. He’d never break my heart on purpose since he loves me, too. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been so insistent on keeping me here in Storybrooke with him. He would have supported my decision to go back to Boston. He wouldn’t have eaten the apple turnover and he wouldn’t have almost died. It kind of seems like he’s better off without me.

“Oh no. Not that face. Please don’t shut me out again. Don’t build up your walls even higher than they already are. I could tell that you were beginning to kind of trust me.” The crazy person begins putting her hand on my shoulder again. But I pull away and get out of the car.

“Why would I trust you? You’re obviously insane. Just leave me alone and stop claiming to be me. I know myself that none of the things you said could possibly be true. You’re a delusional liar.”

I start walking towards the town line, but just when I’m about to cross it, the imposter pulls me back. She must have gotten out of the car and followed me without my knowledge. That does support my crazy stalker theory. She does have good stalking skills.

“Emma, stop please. Don’t cross the town line. You don’t even know, if you can cross it and come back. What if you turn into a tree once you leave Storybrooke?”

I scoff and roll my eyes at her. Am I really supposed to buy that story? I was always the one person who could leave the town no matter what. Why should that change suddenly?

“Leave me alone.”

She opens and closes her mouth for a few times. She stares at me as if I’m the most stubborn person in the world, which just proves that she doesn’t know me. I’m not stubborn, I just know what I want right now and there’s no way I’ll change my mind. That would require me to believe her stupid story and I won’t do that. Not even in a million years or if someone would give me billions of dollars for it – for that amount I might pretend to trust her for a few minutes, but that’s all.

The fake me approaches me again and this time puts both her hands on both of my shoulders. “I know all of this scares the holy crap out of you, but that doesn’t make it a lie. I really am you – from the future. I’m not lying to you. I admit, that time travel is hard to swallow, but I’m just trying to help you now. You might be used to doing things on your own and having no one to depend on, but that doesn’t need to be your life anymore. Many people in this town care a lot about you and you don’t need to shut them out all the time.”

When will she shut up? I swear if she continues that way, I might just start to believe her. I can’t do that. It would mean I’m just as insane as she is.

“I don’t need any of the people here. I do better on my own.”

“You’re mistaking happiness for content. You really should let some people in – like you did with Henry. You don’t regret that, do you? Because facing all your fears was worth it. Love is a part of all happiness and you have to be open to that. Otherwise you might never know what it’s like to be truly happy. I know my arrival with my baby“ I cringe at the mention of her daughter. I’m not the least bit ready to have another child – especially since I don’t really want one. There was too much physical pain as well as emotional pain involved. My pregnancy with Henry pretty much messed me up – thanks to that asshole ex of mine. I’d worry far too much all the time, if I were to ever get pregnant again. “freaked you out, but I promise you: The future is nothing to be afraid of.” She smiles at me – or maybe at a memory, I can’t really tell – and runs her hands down my arms to take my hands in hers. “I’m probably not supposed to tell you this since the timeline is already in grave danger, but your future isn’t looking too bad. All you have to do in order to have a nice future is trust me right now.”  

I wish I could believe her. I honestly do since she seems to believe in me, which is a first. But I don’t know how to trust. I’m far too messed up by my childhood. All my life people have been letting me down starting only a few minutes after I was born. There’s no logical reason for that to ever change.

“How does trusting you ensure my future anyway?”

“I doubt that the future will be the same, if I stay here. I need you to help me get back home and to cast a forgetting spell over the whole town, while I’m leaving. Sure, we could work together without trusting each other, but it would be far harder.”

I don’t even have magic – not really anyway. The only magical thing I have is the protection spell over my heart. For all I know Gold could’ve cast that to ensure I don’t die before breaking Regina’s precious curse. They did seem to have worked on it together after all – at least according to Mary Margret and David. Who knows how often they lie to me. It’s not like people tend to be honest to me. But I don’t think they would this up. They’d have no reason to. Not one that makes sense anyway.

“What makes you think I can help you?”

She tilts her head and sighs. This must be harder for her than she expected. I wonder why she still sticks around though. Most people would’ve given up on me by now. Or not even bothered at all. Maybe that’s a sign to trust her. She does act like she cares after all, so why would she go through all this effort just to hurt me. She might do that if we were enemies, but I don’t even know her, so I doubt that she’s got an ulterior motive.

“I know you don’t like to hear it, but you’re the product of true love. You have magic – very powerful light magic. The time portal that took me here was created by my daughter, who is the product of true love in second generation. So, I believe that together we might just be strong enough to recreate that portal.”

Wait? Second generation…does that mean her daughter is a product of true love, too? That can’t be true. I’m a loner. There’s no way I’ll ever fall in love – much less true love. But oh well, I’ll just roll with the story for now because that future me seems to be very nice and genuine about her offer. I don’t want to cause her any unnecessary pain. Her plan probably won’t work anyway. So, I can teach her the truth without hurting her feelings directly. She’ll realize that all of this isn’t true and then I can go back to my old – but still crazy – life.

[marksburyscripts]

Episode 13-- Less Than a Theory

Google Doc

Content Warnings: -Cancer -Talk of potential murder of a parent -Implied suicidal ideology

[Pre-episode announcement]

Hey, everyone! Victor Stark here with just a couple quick announcements. First off: We are approaching the end of The Marksbury Incident season one! The season finale will be episode fifteen, which is currently expected to release on May 8th. After that, we will be taking a brief hiatus as we prepare for season two and give the cast a well-deserved break. 

“But Victor!” You may be thinking. “How am I supposed to get my fix of Frankenstein retellings while Marksbury is on a break?” I’ve got good news and bad news. The bad news is I don’t know. That’s on you. But the good news is it won’t always have to be! Orbituary is an upcoming podcast about the crew of the U.S.S Prometheus. It’s Frankenstein in space! What could be better than that? The fact that they’re casting, that’s what! And even better than that, they’re especially looking for actors of color, and accents not often heard in podcasts.You can learn more @OrbituaryPod on Twitter.

That’s all from me for today, and another huge thank you to everyone who’s stuck with us throughout this. We all appreciate it more than I could possibly say.

And keep an eye out. There are plenty more stories to tell.

--

[The cemetery. Night. There is the sound of a phone ringing, and it goes to Evelynn’s voicemail]

EVELYNN

Hey, it’s Evelynn! I can’t come to the phone--

VICTOR

...Nope. [He sighs and hangs up] Stupid…. [Beat.] Nothing good ever comes of this, I-- I don’t know why I keep doing it. “Go for a walk, Victor, it’ll be good for you. Who cares if it’s the middle of the night, it’ll be fine.” But you know, facing fears and everything. And I'm not exactly supposed to be here after dark. If that groundskeeper sees me, he might just have a heart attack. I haven’t seen him since the day he told me about that woman, though, so maybe he quit? [Beat.] And what's a trespassing charge after everything I've been through, right? [He laughs, but it fades] Plus, I… I need to think. 

...It wasn't the cancer that killed you, was it, mom? I know that now. She did. You knew something, and she made sure that no one else found out. And now I’m here. I’m finding out. That’s gotta be the connection, right? Something happened the night I…. [A breath] You know. Something happened, and she… found me. Latched on. And now she knows that I know something. It all makes sense, it’s just the details now. 

VICTOR (Cont.)

...Do I want the details? I told Christine that time that I’m done looking into things that people shouldn’t know about. That was just to try and get her to stop worrying about it in case things got dangerous. And that clearly didn’t work. She’s resilient, that’s for sure. I’ve… contacted Professor Crane. He... hasn’t gotten back to me. Maybe he just hasn’t checked his email, but I know that’s unlikely. He obviously doesn’t want to get involved. Can’t say I blame him.

I… don’t have much to go off of. It’s difficult. I can get a few words from your journal, but it’s almost impossible to get anything accurate because of the different languages. Certain words meaning different things only within certain contexts. Even translation programs are falling short. Heck, I can’t even figure out what languages some of the words are. But… that was probably the point. [Sigh] ...I can get the gist of it, though. You found out about… something. Something dangerous, something that… I think you were trying to stop. Is that right? 

VICTOR (Cont.)

[Laughs] ...This is way above my pay grade. At this point, I’m-- I’m just talkin’ in circles. “Mom knew something, I don’t know anything.” How many different ways can I say it? Don’t expect any novels from me. [He laughs again] I’d lay out the facts and try to make some deductions, but… what facts do I even have? Next to nothing. No. No, not even next to nothing. I have nothing. I-- I almost want to find out if I can… summon her or something, just to get some information. But there’s no guarantee she would actually tell me anything. And even if she did, it’s no use to me if I’m dead. 

[There is a long, contemplative silence]

VICTOR (Cont.)

...Maybe I should just leave. Get a nice little cabin in the middle of nowhere and let everyone go about their lives without any of… this. Let the world forget that Victor Frankenstein ever existed. [He scoffs] There was a time when being forgotten was one of my biggest fears, remember? When I only ever wanted to be someone. My name in the most prestigious textbooks and research papers for years to come. You told me that anything was possible with hard work and dedication. So, what's the hard work I need to make sure that I slip into obscurity? 

VICTOR (Cont.)

I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I mean, I am completely at a loss. Should I even be doing anything? Wouldn't it just be easier to accept that this is how it is, and roll with the punches? ...No. No, I can't do that. As much as I want to, I'm in this now. No turning back. And I'm more lost than I've ever been. I don’t--

[There is the sound of a twig snapping in the distance. Victor freezes, but after a few second of silence, he decides that it was nothing and continues]

VICTOR (Cont.)

God, look at me. Jumping at shadows. It-- it’s just sad at this point. If this is how I am with the stupid amount of anxiety meds I’m on, can’t imagine what I’d be like if I didn’t have them. I’d probably be curled up in a corner somewhere just waiting for something to come and finish me off.

[There is the sound of a zipper as Victor rummages through his bag. He pulls out a lighter and cigarettes, and we hear him light one]

VICTOR (Cont.)

...Yeah. I smoke now. What’re you gonna do, ground me? After everything I’ve been dealing with, I think I deserve this much, if it helps me calm down even a little bit. Christine and Henry have been on me about it, though, so I haven’t been going through as many lately. Just last week, Henry flushed the only one I had left down the toilet. I wanted to be mad, but y’know, I can’t really blame him. He’s just trying to help. Both of them are. With everything. And as much as I appreciate it, because believe me, I do… we all know that they’re just as clueless as I am. 

VICTOR (Cont.)

...I need you, mom. I need you to tell me my next step. I-- I have no idea, I-- I have people who need me to figure this out. Henry and Christine, whether they'll admit it or not, we all know that it's up to me. Henry's already seen firsthand what can happen if things go too far, and if I don't sort this all out, if I don't stop it, who's to say it won't be even worse? They’re all I have, I can’t lose them. I can't let that happen, mom. I won't be able to take it. [About to cry] I…. I can't be alone again. 

VICTOR (Cont.)

[A deep breath as he calms down]

Right. Anyway. [A short, sad laugh] I uh-- I've been trying to focus on work. Which is still terrible. But I've been so out of it lately, I need to make sure I don't get fired. Plus all the time I've missed just because I couldn't bring myself to go…. Basically, I'm on thin ice. Everyone's pretty understanding, they know I've been going through a rough time. But still, they can only excuse so much. I feel like I’m constantly walking on eggshells on that front. Like one mistake could be the nail in the coffin. Like I need any more stress in my life, right? [Laughs] I mean, I’m sure if worse came to worse, Henry’s dad would let me work for him for a bit, but I feel like I’d be even worse at that than I am at retail. I don’t even drive my own car if I can help it, forget about fixing them. And I like Henry’s family, I wouldn’t wanna risk accidentally blowing up their main source of income. And of course, there’s the fact that I’m the reason their son was in a coma for almost a year, so uh, if they ever found that out, they might be a little upset.

VICTOR (Cont.)

...I’m scared, mom. I’m scared, and I-- I just wish you were here to tell me that it’s gonna be okay. ...God, I sound like a child. But it’s true. I’m not cut out for this. Give me figures and numbers, I’ll work any problem out like it’s nothing. But this is… unknown territory. Where do I even begin? Where did you begin? How did you even get involved in-- in any of this? Did you seek it out? Or were you a victim of circumstance, just like me?

VICTOR (Cont.)

I’ve come to accept that there are a lot of things I don’t understand in the world. I thought I’d solved life’s greatest mystery. But as it turns out, all I did was unlock the door to a labyrinth of puzzles the likes of which mankind had never dared try to unravel. There’s so much more… to everything than I ever imagined. And I hate it. I hate not knowing how any of this works, not knowing the rules these things follow. People vanishing into thin air, women with no bodies…. I’ve tried to research, but there’s nothing credible. I don’t know a thing. ...Well, I guess that’s not completely true. I know that whatever’s going on, whatever you started, mom… I’m gonna finish it.

ERIK

Always so sure of yourself, aren’t you, Creator?

[Victor takes a sharp, frightened inhale, and the recording ends]

NEXT EPISODE➝

[psychicbluebirdpainter]

My Constant

Summary: This is set in TRR Book 2 Chapter 11. After their pool game and all the talk about dating, Drake’s about to leave for his cabin but something stops him. This also involves a small theory of mine about the conspiracy against MC. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Drake X MC

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters. The characters and some of the dialogues belong to Pixelberry Studios.

Author’s Note: My MC’s name is Anne Boleyn because I admire her so much and when I saw a book called The Royal Romance, it just felt right to name my MC after her. I even named the Prince, Henry (after Henry VIII); but then, throughout the story, I felt like there is a really special connection between MC and Drake. So my LI is Drake now.

Word Count: 2000+

After another game night, Anne and Drake are walking back to train, side by side. It is past midnight and the streets are almost empty. They are in a comfortable silence, filled with a mix of emotions. For a second it feels like they are the only people in the entire world, but that feeling disappears quickly when they reach the train. Anne opens the door and walks in, Drake following close behind.

They quietly walk towards Anne’s cabin and as they reach her door, her chest feels heavy thinking that their time tonight has come to an end. Again. Like it always does.

Drake’s voice interrupts her thoughts. “I had a good time tonight.”

Anne turns and studies him for a long second. His face is all serious but his voice is soft and gentle and she just wants to be wrapped up in that softness. Finally, she smiles. “Me too.” Before he can say anything, she adds “Next time, we should go on a real date.”

Drake’s surprised by her response. He doesn’t quite know how to respond to this, to her. Taking her on a real date… This is one of the many things he wishes he was free to do with her. But it just doesn’t seem possible to him. Not now, not ever. He spent so much time, trying to convince himself that he was in an impossible situation and being with her could never be more than just a fantasy. Even though things have changed a lot between them for the last couple of weeks, he still doesn’t fully allow himself to believe that they can be truly together some day.

“That wasn’t… I mean, not that I wouldn’t, but…” He gets flustered but when he sees a hint of a smile on the corner of her lips, he stops mumbling. “…Wait. You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Only a little.” she smiles. She loves it when he gets all flustered but then she grows more serious as she tries to imagine how a real date would actually go with him. “Be honest. If we’d called it a real date, would you have taken me anywhere else?”

“Tonight? No.” His answer is instant and certain.

“How about on another night?” She is suddenly very curious.

He smiles slightly, shaking his head. “We’ll have to see.” He can’t deal with the dangerous thoughts running through his head when he thinks about the two of them. Together. On a real date. With all his guards down. No, it’s best not to think about that.

He looks at her, with a little sadness in his eyes. “Sleep well, Boleyn.”

“Goodnight, Drake.” Her voice slightly trembles as she tries to give him a smile and fails. She isn’t ready to say goodbye yet. She never likes it but tonight, tonight is different. All night, she tried to hide it, tried not to think about it, put on her game face and playful smile and acted like everything was all right. But everything was not all right. With all the drama that’s been going on, and the new information she learned only a few hours ago, the idea of the former King himself plotting against her… She’s scared. For the first time since she came back to court, she finally understands Drake’s concerns about her safety. She never took it as seriously as he did and was only after clearing her name, but after everything that’s been revealed so far, she truly feels frightened, if not terrified. And the only person in the entire court, no in the entire world actually she thinks to herself, who makes her feel completely safe, no matter what situation they are in is about to walk away. And tonight she just doesn’t feel strong enough to let him.

Drake stops at the tone of her voice and the expression on her face. He takes a step closer to her, studying her intently. Suddenly she seems so fragile. She is usually so strong and playful with a bright smile on her face which he adores and shining eyes, but right now there is something else in her eyes. Something that makes him want to protect her from everything that might hurt her. Fear. He sees her fear. “What is it, Boleyn?”, he whispers.

Under his intense gaze, Anne starts to feel overwhelmed with her emotions, with everything she feels, longing, lust, fear, joy, sadness, all at the same time. A tear escapes her eyes silently. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “Can you stay with me for a little while longer?” she whispers back, her voice almost non-existent.

Drake’s heart breaks at the sight of her. He never saw her like this before. He can’t leave her like this, but he can’t stay either.

“Please.” She opens her eyes and sees the conflict on Drake’s face. She knows how hard this must be for him and she knows that she is being unreasonable, and she hates herself for this. But she can’t take it anymore. She feels so small and all alone in this place. She needs him.

Drake nods silently, giving in. He knows that this is probably not a good idea, but he doesn’t find it in himself to leave her right now.

She steps inside her cabin and sits on the edge of her bed. Drake carefully checks out the corridor, making sure there is nobody to see them, before following her inside and closing the door behind him. He leans back to the door and sighs.

“What is it, Boleyn?” he asks once more, giving her his full attention.

For a moment, Anne seems to have difficulty finding the words, not quite sure where to start. But when she meets his concerned gaze, everything she’s been keeping buried inside all night starts to pour out of her. She stands up, walking back and forth inside her tiny cabin.

“I talked to former Queen tonight, before the opera. She didn’t deny that she favored Madeleine above everyone else during the social season, but she also said she had nothing against me and a small part of her actually wanted to see me succeed. She told me, she understands how Henry feels about me and she was the reason I was allowed back in court. When I brought up Bastien during the conversation, she didn’t seem affected at all by the mention of his name, but she did tell me that she and Bastien weren’t in fact very close. She said Bastien used to be extremely loyal to Henry’s late mother, and he is closer to former King than he is to her. And for some reason, I believed her. She was sincere. Besides she has her own guards and servants to carry out her orders. She wouldn’t go to Bastien for something like this. So that leaves behind two people. The former King… And Henry.”

Drake interrupts her immediately. “Henry loves you.”

Anne stops pacing, turns to face him and sighs. “Yeah, everybody keeps telling me that. But think about it, Drake. Bastien was extremely loyal to Henry’s late mother. When she died, he probably became more protective of Henry, more than ever, right? I don’t think Bastien would do something like this, something that affects Henry like this, without his knowledge.” She puts up a hand when she sees Drake’s about to protest again. “I’m not saying, Henry was the one giving Bastien orders. I’m just saying… I think he knew something was up.” She stops for a moment, choosing her next words carefully. “On the night of the Coronation, Henry came to me. He… He told me he wanted to meet me before Coronation. Alone. He said… He said he was done waiting.”

When she sees the pained expression on Drake’s face, she quickly adds. “I said No.”

Drake’s face relaxes slightly and he lets out a silent breath.

She continues. “I didn’t think anything of it at first. But then the time of Coronation came and all hell broke loose. I was forced out of the court and Henry made his decision without even blinking an eye. Sure he seemed not happy about it, but he certainly wasn’t surprised either. It was like he knew something like this was gonna happen, and he wanted to spend some alone time with me before it happened, one last time.” She sighs heavily. She thought about this before, but never could admit to herself, until tonight. She feels panic starting to rise inside her chest. “Drake, do you realize what all this means? You are the one who told me that Bastien would feel obligated to obey unconditionally to only a few people and this conspiracy must be going really deep. Now we know that Bastien is real close to former King and that he was extremely loyal to Henry’s late mother, which means he is probably extremely loyal to Henry himself. What if the former King is the one who gave Bastien orders and Henry knew about it and has been lying to me, to all of us, all this time?”

Drake feels shock and anger welling up inside him. First Bastien, and now his best friend Henry? No, it can’t be, he thinks to himself, shaking his head. Henry wouldn’t use her like this or do or allow something that could put her in danger. But he has to admit that she has a point. And if she is right about all this, then she might be in more danger than he ever imagined. And there was no one to trust. No one.

He looks at her panicked, frightened face and for a second imagines the worst. His heart sinks, he can’t bear the idea of losing her. In two long steps, he closes the distance between them and pulls her close to him, one hand on her back holding her against him tightly, the other caressing her dark, velvety hair gently.

She lets out a sigh and returns his embrace, putting her arms around his waist and resting her head on his strong chest. “I’m scared, Drake.”, she whispers. “For the first time since I came back here, I’m really scared.”

“I know.” His voice is a low whisper as he tries hard not to give away that he is scared too. Probably more scared than he ever was in his entire life. He holds her gently for a while until finally, he feels her body relax in his arms.

Still holding her close, “Did you talk to Henry about the new information you learned tonight?”, he asks quietly. He feels like he has to understand this situation as well as he can.

“Yes, he was waiting for me at the opera. I told him the conversation I had with the Mother Queen. He seemed angry with his father and promised that we will confront him together as soon as we have the chance.” She feels Drake nodding slowly. “But I don’t trust him. I can’t trust anybody, anymore.”

Anne pulls back her head slightly and looks deep into his eyes. “Except you.” Her hand reaches to cup his face, caressing his cheekbone with her thumb. She is suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. “Everything feels like falling apart lately. And in all this craziness, you are the only person in the world who makes me feel completely safe. You are the only person who makes me feel like I’m home. When everything is falling apart, you are my constant.”

Drake’s heart warms at her words. He can see that she means what she says. And he knows exactly how she feels. He feels the same way about her. Losing his family made him feel so alone and broken for so long. He never thought he would care for or feel connected to anybody ever again. All that changed with Anne.

Keeping her gaze, he slowly leans in and his lips find hers in a tender kiss, pouring all his love into the kiss. Their kiss deepens as he runs his hands up and down her back and her hand moves to the nape of his neck pulling him closer. But then he pulls himself back and rests his forehead against hers and whispers. “And you are mine.”

Anne closes her eyes and smiles. She can feel his breath on her face and his strong arms around her body. She feels like nothing can hurt her when he is by her side. She wants to stay in this moment forever. But she knows he has to leave soon. She opens her eyes, looks at him and whispers. “Thanks for listening, Drake. I feel better now.”

Drake smiles back softly. “We are in this together, Boleyn. We will figure this out. I’ll keep you safe, no matter what. I’m here for you and I’ll be here for you, until the very end. Don’t ever forget that.” He kisses her once again before pulling himself away from their embrace. “But it’s really late now and you need to get some sleep.” He leads her to her bed. “I will stay with you until you fall asleep.”

Anne follows his lead, lays on her bed and watches Drake as he puts the covers on her carefully. He takes a seat on the chair next to her bed and caresses her dark hair gently. “You are safe now, Boleyn”, he whispers.

She feels the warmth of his hand on her hair and her whole body relaxes. She gives him a tired smile and soon she’s fast asleep wrapped up in his warmness.

Making sure she is asleep, he presses a feather-light kiss on her forehead and gets up to leave. Before he opens the door, he looks at her one last time. She looks so beautiful and peaceful. His heart aches from the intensity of the feelings he has for her. He doesn’t know what the future holds for them, but he knows that he will do everything in his power to keep her safe. He can’t lose her.

He opens the door and walks out, closing the door behind him as quietly as he can. He walks to his cabin with a heavy chest. He has to think through all of this and come up with a plan. With no one to trust, he has to be more careful than ever. I promised I’ll keep her safe, he thinks to himself. And I’ll live up to that promise or die trying.

[sysidereus]

Anywhere ||:.

“I know we’ve got to get away 

                        someplace where no one knows our name

                                                              We’ll find the start of something new”

When the current amount of alcohol in your stomach isn’t enough to distract from your problems you have two choices, you either keep drinking until you forget or you go out of your way to chew them out over a smoke. It was what worked best, at least for Sidereus. Usually, he would always go for the first choice. It wasn’t every day that drinks were freely poured around the ship and if there was something he had taken out of his trauma’s it’d have to be that you should always take everything you can before it’s gone. 

This time however, he chose to go with his pack. Now at first glance him going out for a smoke isn’t anything peculiar, if anything it was already a sore view on everyone. Wherever the drifter went, the burnt smell of cigarette would always follow. It was a fact by now, almost universal. Yet if one were to look closer, you’d notice there were some things that were amiss with the picture. Either by the sudden isolation, the reluctance to meet a gaze or the way he gripped his lighter like it could anchor him down, there were little details that gave his spirit away. Someone who was familiar with him would have probably noticed it. That is if he would ever let anyone get that close. 

But he didn’t, and he should never allow it. Sitting down with his legs hanging to the storage below, he takes a drag before resting his head against the cool rail. Everyone was probably either already glued to the panels or getting ready for the comet. Sid himself would have been doing the same had a sudden thought not assaulted him so strongly. 

He had spent a large portion of the day completely taken by the comet and it’s myth. The whole Serenity was crazy about it, Kinam couldn’t get his eyes off his books, Jaewon wanted to kill himself with the comet. Hell, he even met one of the hackers that he swore he had never seen around. How he always missed a tower like Hanbyul was beyond him. Kamora was lost in her own world of fantasy and beauty, Audrey and Ephraim had surprised him with new sides of them, Sol had been just a complete mess and Kinam was even worse of a wreck than he was. The only part where Sid could admit he had enjoyed himself was when he had dragged Scarlett to dance with him. It had been something completely in the heat of the moment. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing but he had been taken by this sudden joy out of being alive. Out of both of them being alive and on the same ship. It had been worth it. For a while at least. 

The smoke thins in front of him but he is not seeing it. He has overstayed welcome. He never stays longer than a month on the space place, let alone with the same people. It’ll be almost four months since Mina had saved him, almost four months since he paid his first passage. He had not planned on staying beyond their next stop and yet. Here he was, four months later, always packing and unpacking, ready to go but never quite doing it. There was always something stopping him. Sullivan needed help at the markets. Kafka stole his lighter again. Sonmi looked just a little too detached for his liking. Audrey wanted his company at the engine’s again, only just to bully him for his mistrust of Henry and bad terms with Sol. Jiyong wanted him to work on his aim. Kinam had a new theory about the verse he wanted to share. Ephraim had promised something delicious for supper. The reasons had been many.

Yet he knew they were all excuses. He was stalling. Purposely. And he did not know why. He was just setting himself up for another heartache. These people. These warm, oblivious, idiot people, did not know him. Sure right now they were welcoming and attentive but what would happen if they were to know his true colors?

Jaewon would probably sell him the first port they landed. He had been nothing but a pain to the captain, he was sure that at the slight opportunity he got to get rid of him he would. And even better, he’d get profit out of it. He surely wouldn’t toss the chance. Mina wouldn’t trust him anymore. He didn’t know what he had done to earn her favor but that would be long gone once she knew he had lied to her. Jiyong would probably shot him blank and the rest wouldn’t blink. Trust was a precious thing after all. It couldn’t be broken without repercussions. 

Sid snorts at the thought. Not even two days ago he had been chiding Sol about it, and now here he was, worried he’d break the others too. Shouldn’t he apply what he preaches? What a hypocrite. And yet he felt that it wasn’t the same. What he had said to Sol was right. You didn’t need to trust someone to work with them, you teamed up and tried to get alive out of it. If they chose to toss their lives for others, well tough luck. It’s every man for himself out there. No one cares about noble actions unless it helps their reputation.

However the same couldn’t be said about the Serenity and her crew. They were above all, a family. A very diverse, dysfunctional one but still, a tight family. A family he wants to belong to. And in a family, trust is the one thing you don’t shatter. Even if they were to accept him, it was too much trouble carrying a wanted man on board. They would be in constant danger because of him. Sid could not have them risk their lives for him. He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t worth it. 

He sighs, throwing the cigarette butt across the storage. His mind drifting back to his drunk conversation with Kinam about the wishes. It had been fascinating hearing from everyone what they all wanted. It revealed what was truly important to the person, at least at that moment. A lot of the answers were vague and dismissive and Sid could relate to that after all, it was something personal. It couldn’t be shared with just anyone. And yet he still wanted to know. Not just out of curiosity but also as an inspiration. 

Sid had absolutely no idea what to ask for. All he wanted was impossible. He had long resigned himself to the fact that sooner or later, he’d have to stop running. There was nothing that could be done for him, it was his word against the world and he was powerless. No one would take his side, and even if they did, it hardly mattered. He had still killed two people, two feds. It was a bleak future, but it was his and he could only run from it for so long.

Laying back down, he stares at the metal ceiling picturing what he could be already missing. He imagines the so famous red line slowly slicing the sky, leaving a trail of black emptiness as the tail dies. Somewhere in the back of his head Kinam is laughing saying comets don’t work like that. But Sid doesn’t focus on it, instead, he makes his wish.

“Just take me anywhere...”

It was far more doable. Surely Yue Lau could work its strings and grant him that. 

“Anywhere... anywhere with them. That’s all I want.” 

His speech is slurred but he is sure he said the right words. One last trip. One last trip so he could make up his mind and decide on what to do. But it had to be with all of them. Even the ones that itch Sid’s temper. Smiling, he runs his hands through his face, trying to keep a giddy laugh from escaping.

[j-philly-b]

P1 Thanks! So, I’m trying to reconcile all the information and I’m partial to the Tremaine is Rapunzel theory, so be warned! My first instinct was Alice, coz Chess piece, but that felt too obvious, so I went back to the connection between Tremaine and WWH, but Drizella was still kinda obvious, and then I remembered the missing Anastasia who will show up later this season. So, I’m thinking: WWH hides in Rapunzel’s Tower a la Flynn Ryder, they share the night and he’s gone the next morning,

P2 leaving Rapunzel/ LT to face theconsequences (pregnancy), which is why she’s mad at him. They don’t appear tobe working together, so probably one of the following happened: 1) Rapunzel/ LTgets banished and her daughter is kept as replacement, which she doesn’t mindcoz she didn’t want the child in the first place, or 2) LT offers her daughteras replacement to gain her own freedom. Either way, she gets to leave the towerand doesn’t care about Anastasia, who becomes Rapunzel 2.0. LT and

P3 WWH cross paths and he finds out about hischild, which is when he goes back and starts sneaking in to be with her. Atsome point the witch finds out, WWH gets cursed and Rapunzel 2.0/ Anastasia ishidden away. The witch could be malicious or trying to protect her charge(misunderstanding), depends on her motivation for keeping a child, which Ican’t figure out so far. So LT is the mother, but uninvested; WWH cares onlyabout his daughter, not the mother; Anastasia is accounted for; LT and

P4 WWH connection is explained; the writerscleverly avoid drama over a hook love interest by only implying the relationand not showing them in love or anything; there’s a connection to Henry’sfamily, which is par for the course with this show; and I got Rapunzel into themix. Did I miss anything? Drizella would be either Jacinda’s halfsister or thechild of LT’s first marriage in this scenario. Granted, the whole thing iscomplicated, convoluted and pretty out there, but it’s not like OUAT

P5 isn’t, so… What do you think? I have toadmit, I did not like the wishverse mess in S6 so I never wanted it mentionedagain, but somehow, when 7x02 aired, I realized that this was probably the bestthey could have done, and after a few days, what used to be mostly relief thatCS got their HE turned into genuine interest in WishHook and his story? Itfeels fresh somehow? Wonder if they can do the same for Regina and Rumple, Imean, give their stories a breath of fresh air?Anyway, thanks again!

The wish realm, man don’t even get me started on that one…

Instead, let’s jump into theorizing about Hook 2’s daughter,way more fun for me. Your theory ties things up a lot more neatly than minedoes. Really well thought out, and certainly plausible. I’ve been thinkingabout it for a few days now, so I’ll offer my take in response:

At this point there are quite a few young women who are aboutthe right age to be the daughter: Alice, Anastasia (I missed the castingspoiler on that one), Cinderella, Drizella, Rapunzel, and Tiana. Am I missinganyone?

Cinderella is the only one who has mentioned her father sofar, when she confronted the Prince. But we also know that Hook 2 joins forceswith Cinderella and Tiana in the alt!EF, so that seems to eliminate both ofthem from contention. Leaving us with Alice, Anastasia, Drizella, and Rapunzel.

I found a couple of things interesting in the scene between Hook2 and Lady Tremaine. One, it was played more for comedy than high drama – the whimsicalscore underlining the scene, Tremaine’s reactions, etc. So I got the impressionthat the two might have had a mutually beneficial working relationship at somepoint in the past, possible in the realm that shall not be named. Two, Hook 2made a point of telling us that Tremaine is very good a procuring things, whichmade me wonder if she was a thief or con woman of some kind when she was ayounger woman and they had their run-in with each other.

Ok, so, if they did meet when Tremaine was a younger woman,then that would mean that Tremaine is also from the realm that must not benamed. But if she is, then she can’t really be either Lady Tremaine or Rapunzel,right? Why not? Because we know that EF prime already had those characters, andthe wish realm, as a bastardized duplicate of EF prime, would have had them aswell. Although it would not preclude a young Tremaine, whatever her real namemight have been, from being the baby mama, it would eliminate the theory ofTremaine being a grown-up Rapunzel full stop. It would also eliminate Rapunzelfrom contention of being Hook 2’s daughter, but not Tremaine’s daughters,although, again, the wish realm should have already had its own versions ofDrizella and Anastasia, so the versions we are dealing with this season, wouldhave been born with different names. (Am I getting too bogged down in details,making this overly convoluted?).

However, if Tremaine and Hook 2 met up after he left the verkaktewish realm, which to be honest is the version I prefer, and Tremaine is from adifferent part of the alt!EF, then her being Rapunzel is very possible. Althoughthat drastically reduces the chances that Tremaine is the mother of Hook 2’sdaughter, which to me eliminates Anastasia, Drizella, and Rapunzel ascandidates. Leaving us only with Alice.

So, yes, the white knight and black rook chess pieces maybemake it too obvious to think that Alice is Hook 2’s daughter, but she’s alsothe right kind of crazy to be Hook 2’s daughter, especially if she was isolatedand imprisoned by a witch for who knows what purposes. We often give the writersmore credit than they deserve for plotting clever twists, when it was in factthe obvious all along. I mean, come on, Hook 2 is his daughter’s white knight? Betweenthat and him stabbing himself in 7x02 and almost dying, I bet we see Hook 2sacrifice himself for his daughter by the end of the season. Not to say I thinkhe’s going to die, but I think it will be a very close thing to bring his storyfull circle.

There’s another component that I’ve been thinking of sincelast Friday – I think they are going to keep Hook 2 as “pure” as possible. I’vediscussed this with a few other people already, but I think the use of bloodmagic in 7x02 is going to come up again in relation to Hook 2. The more I thinkabout it, I think Hook 2’s daughter was conceived through a magical version ofIVF involving blood magic and knocking out the baby daddy. Mainly becauseA&E haven’t gone as far as they could on the creepy methods of babyconception yet. And two because I think they’re going to go out of theirway to avoid showing any version of Hook in a position with a woman that couldbe deemed sexual in nature, whether consensual or not.

I would not be surprised at all if Hook 2 finds out abouthis daughter because the baby is left on his doorstep (gangplank?), or he getssome mysterious message about an infant daughter that he goes out to seek. He,of course, falls in love with her immediately because one thing we know aboutHook is his capacity to love and to love deeply. So the daughter is his TL,doesn’t matter where she came from, who the mother is, she’s the TL that mayhave inspired him to start changing his ways but then she was kidnapped by thewitch. Why? No idea, I assume we’ll find out and it will be a silly reason. Butit leads to Hook 2’s heart being poisoned/cursed, and he and his daughter eachbeing driven close to madness trying to find each other?

[lala-kate]

Pulse Points:  Chapter 10

This chapter got away from me, so yes, it’s a long one. I hope nobody minds. :) Oh...it’s also rated M. 

You can read it here or on ff.net. 

Regina had no idea how long she and Robin been wrapped up together on the sofa.

 To be honest, she really didn’t remember moving from the kitchen floor to the living room. But somehow they had, and they were still here, snuggled into each other under a blanket, legs tangled, hearts full, all warm and water-limbed, exhausted in every way possible.

 She’d cried harder than she had in years, to the point where she was certain she couldn’t have any moisture left in her body. Her eyes had to be red and swollen, her cheeks a blotchy mess if the state of Robin’s face bore any resemblance to her own. But it didn’t matter. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen besides Henry.

 “What are you thinking?”

 His voice was low, barely more than a rumble in his chest. She snuggled in closer, wrapping her arms around him, reveling in the feel of him under her cheek.

 “Not much, actually,” she hummed. “Too tired to think anymore.”

 He chuckled and hugged her closer.

 “Same here,” he breathed. His lips caressed her forehead, and she closed her eyes, sated and content. “It’s nice just to feel for a while, isn’t it?”

 She chuckled.

 “Now it is,” she answered. “It wasn’t before you came over tonight.”

 “No,” he sighed. “You’re right. Before we talked, it hurt like hell.”

 He was right--it had hurt like hell, had drained her of energy like a hemorrhage that wouldn’t clot. She raised her head and stared at this man who’d somehow carved out a huge place for himself in her life.

 “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I never should have--”

 He cut her off with his mouth, kissing her as best as he could manage in their current position. It was awkward, but wonderful, and she slid up his body to give them both a better angle, kissing him back soundly.

 “No more apologies,” he muttered, drawing back just enough to speak. “I thought we agreed on that.”

She sighed before kissing the tip of his nose.

 “We did. I just feel terrible about running out on you when I should have--”

 His lips interrupted her again, this time with more force, and he maneuvered their bodies until he was on top of her, pressing her into the cushions as his lips greedily devoured hers. Her mouth opened to him, and his tongue took full advantage, plundering, sampling, making her tingle all over. God, he felt good, and he tasted like sin. “I should have...trusted you,” she managed, her tone breathless as he drew back far enough to breathe before peppering kisses along her jaw. “Should have given...you a chance...to hear the truth from me.”

 “I believe I just did hear the truth from you,” he stated, nuzzling beneath her ear before kissing the sensitive flesh there. “Quite a bit of truth, if I’m remembering correctly.”

 “I meant first,” she said, her eyes fluttering shut as his mouth slid deliberately down her neck, finding that spot that he knew drove her insane. “Instead of…. from….Henry….Christ, Robin.”

 He was sucking just below her ear, not hard enough to leave a mark but insistent enough to make her inner thighs pulse.

 “If you apologize again, I may take off that blasted pajama top just to get you to stop,” he said, moving his mouth back to her neck, his lips hovering just over her pulse point. “Desperate times, desperate measures, you know.” His finger began to draw circles over her right breast, prompting her nipple to stand to attention, pressing against the soft flannel covering it.

 “Now you’re just tempting me,” she returned, working her hands down his back until she could cup his rear. She gave it a squeeze as best as she could through his jeans, and he groaned into her neck.

 “Look who’s talking,” he breathed as his lips slid down the vee in her pajama top. His fingers found her nipple and gave it a firm squeeze through the material as his mouth and tongue skimmed the edge of the fabric, making her moan as heat burned hotter between her legs. She pressed up against him, his growing erection notching up the need factor another ninety degrees when it pressed against her groin.

 “Robin,” she whispered, feeling him tremble as she uttered his name. His breath came in short puffs as he pulled up just far enough to look her in the eye.

 “How do you do that?” he breathed as his lips skimmed her cheekbone. She was burning up, and she wished he would take off her pj’s, wished there was nothing between her skin and his mouth.

 “What?” she managed, pulling his mouth down on hers without giving him a chance to answer. He moaned into her, turning the pulse between her thighs into an acute ache.

 “Make my name sound like that,” he muttered between kisses. “Sexy as hell.”

 She chuckled, giving his ass another squeeze as he undid her top button. She felt sexy, even with her scar on full display for him, even as he kissed it reverently, making her shiver.

 “The same way you make me feel beautiful,” she murmured as one hand slid under her top to cup her bare breast. “Scar and all.”

 His face hovered just over her heart, the heart that had once belonged to his wife.

 “That scar is one of the most beautiful things about you,” he breathed. “It shows you’re a survivor, a woman who refused to give up on life, even when it tried to give up on her.”

 His thumb caressed the top of her breast as he stared into her, searing himself onto her very marrow. Shadows of tears still hovered in those blue eyes of his, but she now knew they were tears of hope as well as remembrance, remnants of both shared and separate grief that baptized this new beginning of theirs and crafted it into something sacred.

 “You’re a survivor, too,” she said, stroking his beard, nearly melting into him as he turned his face into her touch and gently kissed her palm. He gave her a half smile before touching his nose down to hers, his breath feathering warmth across her skin.

 “I am,” he agreed. “A survivor who refuses to let a second chance at happiness get away from him, especially when that chance is drop dead gorgeous and kisses like a goddess.”

 His mouth fused onto hers again, licking, searching, tasting, and she clung to him for all she was worth, moaning when his fingers pinched her nipple.

 “Maybe...that’s why we fit,” she managed, exhaling when he drew back just far enough to look at her. “We know what it’s like to stare death in the face and walk away from it.”

 He nodded, his attentions to her breast becoming more soothing and thoughtful rather than arousing.

 “Maybe,” he uttered. “I certainly think we understand each other on a level other people can’t.”

 “You have another theory?” she asked, sliding her fingers along his scalp, his skin warmer than usual. “Why we hit it off so quickly?”

 He grinned down at her, closing his eyes, practically purring under her touch.

 “Alonzo said something to me earlier,” he stated, his brow creasing as he opened his eyes. His fingers moved from her breast back to her scar, and she propped herself up on her elbows, curious and a little nervous as to what Marian’s father had to say about their relationship. After all, it was his daughter’s heart that beat in her chest, something that had to be hard for any parent to accept. She couldn’t begin to imagine how she’d feel if anything ever happened to Henry.  

 “What’s that?” she prompted, blinking as his fingers traced the contours of her face.

 “That maybe Marian’s heart--your heart,” he began, pausing to clear his throat. “Maybe that heart was meant to be with me forever.”

 Her breath caught, and she stared at him, watching a myriad of emotions play out across his face.

 “Do you agree with that?” she asked, not certain of what she wanted his answer to be. It was a beautiful thought in a way, and she knew they shared an instant connection, something that couldn’t be explained away with logic. But she wasn’t sure she wanted Robin thinking it was all related to her having his late wife’s heart.

 “Not necessarily,” he answered, leaning down to brush his lips over hers. “I mean, the heart, for all intents and purposes, is an organ. It pumps blood into your body. It keeps you alive. You of all people know that.” She nodded, watching as he swallowed. “But, it wasn’t an organ that made me fall in love with Marian,” he continued, his tone now low and intimate. “It was her spirit, her personality, the essence of who she was as a human being.” His gaze lasered in on hers, his focus sharp yet warm.  “Nor is it what draws me to you like a starving man who can’t get enough. It’s your soul, Regina, your intelligence, your wit, your depth of feeling, especially when it comes to children. It’s who you are that’s making me fall in love with you.”

 She sat up taller, gazing back at him as her heart thudded in her chest.

 “Falling in love with me?”

 The words tripped over her tongue, fluttering out of her mouth, half-spoken, half-breathed, partly-imagined yet fully alive. He nodded, grazing his fingers over his scalp as he swallowed hard again.

 “Yes,” he muttered. “I’m falling in love with you, Regina Mills, body, heart and soul. I’m sorry if I’m rushing you, if you’re not ready to hear it, but…”

 She silenced him this time, grabbing his Henley and pulling him to her, crushing her lips to his as his arms wrapped around her waist. She poured everything she was feeling into the kiss, throwing her arms around him, wanting him closer, kissing him deeper, stroking his skin through his clothes until they both had to come up for air.

 “I’m ready to hear it,” she breathed, coming to the realization that she was actually tearing up again. “God, I’m like a waterworks tonight.”

 He caught a stray tear with his thumb and brushed it aside.

 “You’re not the only one,” he admitted with a small shrug. “I’ve been a sodding mess all afternoon.” He paused, feathering a kiss across her forehead, making her somewhat lightheaded. “So...the L-word doesn’t frighten you this early in the game?”

 She shook her head and reached out to cradle his face in her hands, amazed by her own transparency.

 “I honestly feel less pathetic now for falling for you so quickly,” she breathed. “Because I’m falling in love with you, too, Robin.” She swallowed, trembling at the raw emotion staring back at her, her insides melting into a puddle under his gaze.  “That should scare the hell out of me, but it doesn’t.”

 He chuckled before pulling her into another kiss, one that made her tingle down to her toes. It was insane, the fact that she already cared this much, the fact that he’d gotten to her so quickly, but there was no use denying what she couldn’t explain, especially when it felt so damned good.

 “It doesn’t scare me, either, oddly enough,” he admitted. “And if you’re pathetic, then I’ve reached a new level of desperation.” He drew back a few inches and unleashed those dimples that did things to her. “Do you have any idea how I berated myself this week for needing you so badly after spending one weekend with you?”

 “Actually,” she whispered. “I do.”

 He bit his lower lip, tracing seductive patterns across her collarbone.

 “I called myself a first rate chump,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Couldn’t get you out of my mind or my heart.” Then his tone dropped, caressing her as intimately as a physical touch.  “Couldn’t get your taste out of my mouth.”

 She trembled, remembering how she’d tasted herself when he’d kissed her after making her come on his tongue.

 “I kept remembering your smile,” she admitted, earning herself a disarming one in return. She stroked his dimples, unable to help herself, drawn to him like the tide to a beach.  “How you made me laugh, how you made me feel free...how you felt inside me.” She paused, leaning in until her lips brushed his ear. “How you made me come so hard.”

 “Christ,” he groaned, practically panting as she leisurely sucked on his earlobe. “We are pathetic.”

 “At least we’re pathetic together,” she teased, tugging him back on top of her, trembling as he undid yet another button and his mouth reclaimed hers with force. “Beats the hell out being pathetic alone.”

 “You can say that again,” he managed, the words painting her skin as his mouth blazed a trail down her neck back to her chest. “Does that mean I can sample these tasty morsels?”  He slid her pajama top to the right, bearing one breast for his perusal. “I’m feeling particularly desperate at the moment.”

 “Ummhhh,” she replied, words lost to sensation as his mouth claimed her nipple and he began to suck. “Oh, God, Robin…”

 His unoccupied hand found her other breast beneath the flannel, squeezing her left nipple while his mouth continued to make love to the other. She pushed her groin into his and rocked her hips, suddenly needing friction as badly as she needed air. He moved against her, sucking and licking with more fervor, making her want him inside her now, knowing that it was a bad idea.

 “We can’t..” she tried, losing her train her thought when her third button was unfastened and his mouth switched breasts. “Henry…”

 “Isn’t here,” Robin stated, rocking against her in all the right places as his tongue toyed with her nipple. He sounded so logical, but reason warred with her libido, niggling at the fringes of arousal like a pesky fly.

 “Not yet,” she muttered, biting her lower lip as his fingers strayed between her legs, stroking her through loose flannel. “Shit...Robin...but he…he’ll be back...anytimmmmme...”

 His fingers strayed beneath her pajama bottoms, finding her panties wet and her body willing. Her legs opened of their own will, allowing his fingers to slide inside her undies and stroke her where she ached.

 “I know it’s not smart for us to get naked on your sofa and have sex,” he muttered, his lips moving from her breast to just below her ear. “As much as I’d like to, we don’t really have time. But I thought I could take care of you before your son gets home and I have to get back home to mine.”

 “Oh.”

 In the back of her mind, she remembered Roland had the flu, that August was staying with him until Robin got home, that Zootopia was most certainly over by now, that they’d have to hurry before....

 “God,” she muttered, rocking her hips into his touch. It was all she could manage as his fingers stroked and circled, as every nerve came alive under his ministrations. A noise she didn’t recognize broke free as his thumb found her clit and two fingers slid inside her, and her eyes squeezed shut as his mouth reclaimed her left nipple, zinging sharp strands of pleasure everywhere at once.

 “You’re already close, aren’t you?” he questioned, and she nodded as he adjusted his angle slightly.  Christ, she was already close, already trembling, already more than halfway there. And he kept at it, pumping in and out of her, stroking and circling until she was writhing with need.

 “Shit,” she exclaimed, realizing somewhere in the back of her mind that he was doing all of the work here while she was reaping all the rewards. She should reciprocate, she really should, and one hand began to toy with his fly, trying to remember exactly why they shouldn’t just throw caution to the wind and fuck until they couldn’t see straight right here and now. But he drew her hand away, muttering For you, love into her ear and Enjoy it as he picked up his pace just enough to make her curse again. Pleasure burned deep in her belly, making its delicious way over nerve endings and limbs, pulsing more acutely with each sweep of his brilliant fingers. Then her mouth dropped open as those same fingers fucked her faster, as his thumb worked magic on her clit, as his mouth relentlessly teased and nipped her breasts until her body went rigid and everything exploded, pleasure hitting her like an avalanche as she held on to him for dear life.

 “Oh, God,” she managed, riding wave after wave until the sensations became too acute, nearly bordering on pain until he eased his pace and kissed her open-mouthed.

 “Beautiful,” he murmured into her, dropping kisses across her face. “Bloody exquisite, watching you come.”

 He brought her down gradually, easing his pace before sliding his fingers out of her, continuing to rub her clit in slow, soothing circles as her breathing began to steady itself. She felt amazing, lying underneath him like this, satisfied, cherished and special in a way she never truly had.

 “That was amazing,” she panted, smiling as his mouth made its way back across her chest. “I owe you one.”

 “You owe me nothing,” he breathed, pausing to kiss her lips. “Watching you is worth everything. But I won’t put up a fight if you insist.”

 She laughed, bringing his mouth back to hers, feeling spent, sated and deliciously wicked. The kiss was lazy and warm, but his skin was still hot, not sweaty and cool from the aftermath of an orgasm like hers.

 “You’re pretty worked up, aren’t you?” she asked, kissing his forehead as his face dropped to her chest.

 “May need a cold shower when I get home,” he admitted with a sigh. “But this was definitely worth it.”

 He leaned in for another kiss, his palm cupping one of her breasts and giving it a soft squeeze as she wrapped her legs around his middle.

 “Are you trying to make me come in my jeans?” he muttered, nuzzling his nose into her ear, making her giggle. “Because if you keep rubbing against me like that, it’s a very real possibility.”

 “Probably not a good idea,” she agreed, lowering her hips, missing his solid presence between her legs immediately. “It’s not really fair that it’s so much messier for you than it is for me.”

 “No,” he agreed, lowering himself enough to kiss the tip of her nose, something she was beginning to realize they were both fond of doing. “It’s not. But I really don’t want to face August with an inconvenient stain right where it counts. He’d never let me live it down.”

 “It would make for awkward poker conversation,” she mused, earning herself a frustrated groan.

 “Christ,” he sighed. “August is bad enough. If Frankie and John got a hold of information like that, it would be unbearable. I’d have to leave town.” He paused, kissing her forehead, moaning as she grazed her lips across his neck.  “And I don’t know that I could ever look Alonzo in the eye again...God, woman...you are trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

 She laughed, unable to keep from kissing him again, especially when his mouth was right there, that mouth she knew could do incredible things to multiple places on her body. He was irresistible, she couldn’t help herself. It was then the realization struck her that she wanted to kiss this man for the rest of her life.

 High beeps sounded, slicing into their lust-induced fog. Shit--Henry was home, and she was lying here practically topless under a very worked up Robin. Regina shoved him off, sitting up and trying to button her pajama top as Henry, Mary Margaret and David walked inside, letting in a blast of cold air that made her shiver.

 “Hey, Mom,” Henry said, making Regina wish that they weren’t sitting in a direct line of sight from the front door. “Hey, Robin. Good to see you again.”

 Robin stood, tucking his Henley into his jeans, trying to give her some cover as she fiddled awkwardly with her buttons and ran frantic fingers through her hair. Thank God he was wearing jeans and not sweats. He’d be sporting an obvious boner in any other pants.

 “Hello, Henry,” Robin returned, his voice a few notches higher than usual. He cleared his throat as Regina stood, and she watched David turn three shades of red as Mary Margaret’s eyes grew wide.

 “Umm, we were just going to grab some clothes for Henry,” Mary Margaret stated, her voice even more cheerful than usual. “He asked if he could stay over with us tonight.”

 “He did?” David asked, hunching over when his wife elbowed him in the ribs.

 “Yeah,” Henry chimed in. “It’s been too long since I spent the night at their place, and it sounded like fun.”

 “You stayed at their house last weekend,” Regina said, crossing her arms over her chest self consciously. She hoped the erect state of her nipples wasn’t visible through the flannel.

 “I did?” Henry asked, catching Mary Margaret’s eye as she sent him an obvious look. “I mean, yeah, I did. But...we, uh, we never finished that jigsaw puzzle we were working on, and I really want to.”

 “Jigsaw puzzle?” Regina echoed. “You didn’t mention anything about a jigsaw puzzle. What is it?”

 “Hogwarts,” Henry blurted out, just as Mary Margaret said, “Cinderella’s Castle.”  Henry cleared his throat meaningfully, tossing his godmother a look before stepping towards Regina. “Hogwarts Castle. Sometimes, it looks so much like Cinderella’s, Aunt Mary Margaret can’t tell the difference.”

 Mary Margaret nodded with gusto, prompting Regina to roll her eyes.

 “Really?” Regina asked, staring at Mary Margaret in disbelief. “I don’t remember them being that similar.”

 “They really are,“ the other woman answered, rubbing her expanding belly as she shot Regina a disarming smile. “Besides, I have pregnancy brain these days. I confuse things all the time--right, David?”

 “Um, right,” David chimed in, right on cue. “In fact, she’s confusing me right now.”

 Mary Margaret shot her husband a look that could slice tomatoes.

 “So can I go, Mom?”

 Regina eyeballed her son, her cheeks heating at the realization that Henry was all too aware of just what sort of activities she and Robin had been engaged in before he walked in the door.

 “Yes,” she said, wishing her neck didn’t feel so hot. “You can go. If it’s really okay with David and Mary Margaret, that is.”

 “It’s fine,” Mary Margaret returned before her husband could get a word in edgewise. “In fact, David was just saying how much fun it would be if we all slept in tomorrow morning and took Henry out for waffles around ten or eleven. Weren’t you, David?”

 David swallowed, forcing a smile as he nodded.

 “Yeah,” he echoed, trying to look convincing. “Waffles. At ten or eleven. With Henry. Tomorrow morning.”

 “You know how I love waffles, mom,” Henry added, moving right up to her. “And I haven’t had them in forever.” God, she hoped she didn’t smell like sex. She was certain Robin’s fingers did and breathed a sigh of relief when he slid them into his front pocket.

 “Go pack,” she instructed, feeling Robin’s other arm slide around her waist as her son bounced up the stairs two at a time.

 “I’m going to run to the restroom,” Robin stated, tossing a tight smile towards the Nolans before giving Regina’s waist a squeeze. “If you’ll excuse me.”

 “Sure,” David piped in as Robin turned and ducked around a corner. “And I’ll just go...and...uh...start the car. You know, keep it warm.” He was back outside in a split second, practically tripping over his own feet before Regina could even say good-bye.

 “Oh my gosh, Regina!” Mary Margaret whispered excitedly after her husband shut the front door. “Things are obviously going pretty well for you and Robin.” Mary Margaret was beaming as she practically sprinted towards her friend. “But you might want to fix your top...before Henry comes back downstairs.”

 “My top?” Regina muttered, turning three shades of red when she noticed that she’d inadvertently skipped a button, the result being a gaping hole too close to her right breast for comfort. No wonder David had dashed out of her townhouse like a scared rabbit.  She’d nearly given everyone a show. “Shit,” she breathed, righting her buttons, trying to avoid looking at Mary Margaret.

 “It’s okay,” her friend said. “I’m glad to see you having such a good time.” She dropped her tone to a whisper. “Did you two actually, uh, you know…”

 “No!” Regina exclaimed, wincing at how loud her own voice was. “We did not have sex on my couch.”

 Mary Margaret eyed her disbelievingly.

 “But you came close, didn’t you,” the younger woman prodded before tossing Regina a wicked grin. “Or maybe you just came…”

 “That’s enough,” Regina hissed, stepping back from Mary Margaret as Robin re-entered the room, rubbing his freshly washed hands together.

 “You did, didn’t you!” Mary Margaret whispered, an expression of supreme triumph on her face before she turned an innocent looking smile on Robin. “How is Roland feeling?”

 “Still not good, I’m afraid,” he answered, casting a regretful look in Regina’s direction. “Which is why I should get going. I know August is perfectly capable of taking care of him, but…”

 “But he’s not a pediatrician,” Mary Margaret cut in. “Like Regina. How wise of you to take her along with you to make sure Roland is okay.”

 Regina’s mouth fell open, her lips moving even as no words came out.

 “I--I don’t want to impose on Regina,” Robin managed, looking as confused as Regina felt. “I mean, I know she’s a brilliant physician, but she’s had an exhausting rotation at the hospital, and I don’t expect her to make house calls.”

 “If it’s your house, I’m sure she won’t mind,” Mary Margaret stated. “Although it really is cold outside. You might want to pack your own bag, Regina. Just in case you decide to stay over so you don’t have to brave the weather again.”

 Mary Margaret’s gaze honed in on Regina, her eyes narrowing to emphasize her point. Regina didn’t know if she found this entire situation more embarrassing or ridiculous.

 “You’re certainly welcome to stay,” Robin added, feigning a shrug. “I mean, if the weather’s bad...” She arched a brow in his direction, noting that he was having a difficult time keeping a straight face. “And Roland would certainly love to see you, although he’s likely to be asleep when we get there.”

 “So you have to stay over, Mom,” Henry chimed in from the stairs, his duffle slung over his shoulder. “For Roland’s sake.”

 “For Roland’s sake,” she echoed, feeling her neck prickle in embarrassment. It was one thing for Mary Margaret to encourage her to spend the night with Robin, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about Henry realizing that his mother finally had a sex life.

 “Yes,” Robin agreed. “For Roland’s sake.” He tossed her a bemused look, half sheepish, half amused. “If it’s alright with you, that is.”

 She sighed, eyeing him before turning her attention to Henry.

 “I wouldn’t mind checking in on him,” she admitted. “The flu is nasty this year.”

 “So I’ve heard,” Mary Margaret said before looking directly at Robin. “She’s always helping people, you know. Can never say no to a child in need.”

 Robin nodded, his upper lip twitching as he tried to remain serious. He was enjoying this obvious charade, she realized. Smug bastard.

 “But I’ll stay here if you’d rather sleep in your own bed tonight, Henry,” she stated, needing her son to know that he was still her priority, regardless of the state of her libido. The boy gazed at her, shaking his head as if she’d just suggested they go swimming in the snow.

 “Bye, Mom,” Henry returned, walking over to her and giving her a big hug, filling her nose with the scent of buttered popcorn. “Have fun. Just don’t stay up too late, okay. You need some sleep.”

 “Yes, sir,” she replied, giving him a big squeeze, trying her best not to sound mortified. “Did you remember to pack your toothbrush?”

 “I keep one at their house,” Henry answered, pointing back at Mary Margaret as he pulled back and looked at her earnestly. “But don’t forget yours. Maybe Robin will let you leave one at his place. It’s really convenient, you know.”  

 She cleared her throat, feeling Robin’s half-contained chuckle beside her. The urge to elbow him was growing stronger by the second.

 “I won’t forget my toothbrush,” she promised as Henry and Mary Margaret made their way towards the door. “And I love you!”

 “Love you, too,” Henry answered before pulling the door shut behind him, leaving her momentarily speechless and somewhat stunned.

 “You think they suspect anything?” Robin deadpanned, unable to contain his laughter any longer when she shot him a steely look. “I’m sorry, love,” he continued, trying to catch his breath. “But Henry suggesting you leave a toothbrush at my place...”

 “Is somewhat mortifying,” she interrupted, giving his shoulder a whack. “He knows, Robin!  He’s not even a teenager, and he knows his mother is about to spend the night with a man who just made her come on the couch.”

 “He knows I made you come on the couch?” he questioned.

 “No,” she corrected, rubbing her forehead. “At least, I don’t think so. But Mary Margaret does.”

 “Mary Margaret is a grown woman,” he stated. “I think she can handle the fact that you just had a well-deserved orgasm.”

 “That still doesn’t mean I want her to know you had your hand down my pants just before she walked in,” she exclaimed, rubbing her temples as he drew her into his arms.

 “At least our pants were on,” he observed. “Could have been much worse if I’d done what I really wanted to do to you.”

 She shivered in spite of herself, warming up in places she hadn’t realized had cooled off.

 “And what’s that, exactly?” she breathed, inhaling sharply as his hands moved lower and began to trace circles on her ass.

 “Come home with me, and I’ll show you,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively. She snickered, and he grinned, leaning in to kiss her lightly before drawing back. “I do need to get home and check on Roland, and I know you have to be exhausted, so if you’d rather stay here and sleep in your own bed, I understa…”

 She silenced him this time, attacking his mouth with force, taking him completely off guard for a split second before he opened his mouth and responded in kind.

 “Should I pack my waffle iron?”  she hummed as she drew back and began peppering kisses along his scruff. “Waffles for brunch sound pretty amazing, actually.”

 “Have one,” he managed before giving her derriere a gentle squeeze. “As long as you don’t mind Mickey Mouse shaped waffles.” He shrugged as she stared back at him, his ears turning a muted shade of red. “Gift from Marco when Roland turned three.”

 She grinned, amazed at how the simple fact that this man owned a Mickey Mouse Waffle Iron made him even sexier.

 “Even better,” she whispered, giving his lips one last peck before drawing back and moving towards the stairs. “Now let’s grab my toothbrush and get out of here.”

 _____________________________________________________________

 “So things must have gone well tonight,” August mused, crossing his arms as he and Robin watched Regina check Roland’s temperature. His son had crawled into her lap and snuggled into her chest the moment she sat down on his sofa, something that had tugged on Robin’s heart with the strength of a semi.

 “What?” Robin muttered, unable to draw his eyes away from the scene playing out before him as Regina said something to Roland before stroking his curls. Christ, they looked so natural together it was somewhat staggering. The two men stood in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the family room, granting them a small measure of privacy even as it allowed them to see the dark-headed pair now snuggled up together on the couch.

 “Regina,” August repeated. “The fact that she’s here with you makes me think the two of you worked things out, especially since she brought an overnight bag.”

 He nodded towards the small case Regina had set down by the front door the moment Roland had spotted her and stood to his feet, reaching his arms out to her in a silent plea to be held. She’d responded immediately, going to his son and scooping him up in her arms before sitting down with him where they still sat.

 “Oh, yes,” Robin replied, swallowing hard. “Things are good between us--very good.”

 “Thank God,” August said, rubbing his fingers over his scalp. “I’m glad to hear it, and Belle will be, too. I take it you two managed to talk things out.”

 “We did,” Robin answered as Roland nodded at something Regina said. “It wasn’t an easy conversation for either of us, but…”

 He paused, watching his son burrow further into Regina’s chest as she kissed the top of his head. She looked like Roland’s mother, he realized, and his heart swelled painfully as she rocked the boy back and forth before easing both of their bodies back into the cushions.

 “It was worth it?” August put in, clearing his throat when Robin didn’t answer.

 “What?” Robin muttered, shaking his head. “Oh--yes, yes. Definitely worth it.” He blinked, smiling softly to himself. “Worth everything, actually.”  

 August smiled, gazing at Roland and Regina before turning back to his cousin.

 “She’s it, isn’t she?” August asked, catching him off guard. “Your second chance at love, I mean.”

 His chest constricted, and he cast a glance at his wedding photo hanging on the wall just behind the sofa on which his son and new love interest sat. Marian smiled back at him, looking radiant, watching over their little boy as she gave Robin her final stamp of approval. He stifled a sob as warmth exploded inside him, filling him with a peace and certainty that made him believe absolutely anything was possible.

 “Yes,” Robin replied, doing his best to swallow down a fresh wave of emotion. “She is. And I’m one lucky bastard.”

 August smiled as he clapped him on the shoulder before leaning in and giving him a hug.

 “Yes, you are,” the other man agreed, patting Robin’s back. “But you deserve it, and it’s exactly what Marian would have wanted--for you and for Roland.” He drew back then and wiped his cheek. “She’d want you to fall in love again with someone who would love that little boy as much as she did.”

 August’s tears surprised him, and he clasped his arm, so thankful for this man whom he loved like a brother.

 “Thank you,” he stated, inhaling sharply.

 “For?” August asked, rubbing his face in an attempt to get his emotions under control.

 “For everything,” Robin answered. “Accepting Regina, helping Henry get us to talk, watching Roland so I could go and straighten things out tonight.”

 The other man nodded before reaching for his leather jacket he’d lain on the back of a chair and sliding it onto his body.

 “My pleasure,” August stated, casting another glance into the family room. “Truly. I’m rooting for you guys, you know. All four of you. Henry’s a great kid who’s never had a dad, and Roland...well, he seems completely taken with Regina.”

 He glanced at the two dark heads pressed together in the next room, blinking back tears that hit him with force.

 “He is,” Robin confirmed, swallowing hard. “And she’s wonderful with him, you know--has the touch of a mother.” He paused, shifting the spotlight onto his cousin. “Speaking of kids, Belle has a son, doesn’t she?”

 August’s eyes narrowed as he wrapped his scarf around his neck.

 “She does,” he answered. “Why do you ask?”

 “No reason,” Robin shrugged, chuckling at the disbelieving look August shot him. “It’s just that single mothers are extraordinary creatures,” he continued, taking a step towards the other man. “They deserve special care and an extra dose of respect.”

 “I agree,” August stated, sliding on his gloves. “One hundred percent. Do you have a point, Robin?”

 “Just that you’re great with kids,” Robin added, grinning as the other man’s face turned a soft shade of pink. “Especially little boys. Roland’s given you plenty of practice.”

 “You’re about as subtle as a bull, you know,” August mused, pulling his car keys out of his pocket.

 “You mean as subtle as Mary Margaret,” Robin said, making August chuckle and murmur True. “In all seriousness, though, if you like Belle, you should ask her out. Don’t waste time on wondering whether or not she’s interested. Just do it. Time is precious.”

 August held up his cell phone, tossing Robin a half-smile.

 “I’ve asked her if she’d have dinner with me this weekend,” he confessed, eliciting a smile from Robin. “She gave me her number so we could work out details with our work schedules and line up childcare for Gideon.”

 “Good man,” Robin said. “I hope it goes well. Regina says that Belle’s a good woman.”

 August walked to the front door, pausing as he put his hand on the doorknob.

 “Belle says the same thing about Regina,” he stated with a smile. “And Robin--enjoy yourself tonight.” He then walked out the door and into light flurries of snow that danced in the chilled wind like frozen fireflies. They were mesmerizing, and Robin found himself staring at them for a moment, regardless of the cold creeping under his Henley and making him shiver. They seemed magical, somehow, as if they were sent here to mark this day as significant, one he’d treasure and celebrate for years to come, one that had changed the course of his future. He waved as August drove away, watching his breath take shape and float away as the snow sparkled under the street lights, and he half-imagined that it caressed Marian’s cheek in whatever realm she now dwelled.

 “I still miss you, Babe,” he whispered, crossing his arms to ward off the chill. “But I’m ready to start living again. Wish me luck.”

 The wind picked up just then, stroking his neck and forehead, tickling his cheek, and he smiled into the darkness, feeling his past and present merge in a way that left him breathless. August was right. Regina was it for him.

 He stepped back into his townhouse, remembering that the night air couldn’t be good for Roland or comfortable for Regina, so he shut and locked the door behind him, leaning against it a moment until he caught Regina’s eye. She smiled softly, inclining her head towards Roland who now slept in her arms. Christ, she was a vision like this--her hair curling rebelliously, her face devoid of makeup, wearing an oversized Boston University sweatshirt and gray leggings that made him want to slide next to her on the sofa and wrap her up in his arms.

 He walked into the family room and looked down at his boy.

 “How is he?” he whispered, unable to keep himself from tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

 “Still has a fever,” she stated. “But it’s gone down somewhat. I expect it will break soon.”

 He touched Roland’s forehead, smiling as his son nuzzled in closer to Regina.

 “Why don’t I carry him up to bed?” he suggested, sliding his arms under the child’s lax form. He brought Roland up to his chest and made his way to the staircase, taking them carefully as Regina followed them holding a well-loved stuffed Curious George.

 “Where’s Gina?” Roland muttered groggily as Robin deposited him onto his mattress, the boy’s eyes now at half-mast. “She’s soft.”

 He smiled, thinking to himself how Roland’s family was made up of men, how his son had no memory of Marian, how being held by Regina was the closest thing he’d come to experiencing a mother’s touch. He swallowed hard as a new wave of emotion pushed up his throat.

 “I’m here, sweetheart,” she answered, moving towards his bedside and depositing a kiss on his cheek. Robin tugged Roland’s comforter up to his chest as Regina placed George into the boy’s arms. “Now you get some sleep so you can start to feel better, okay?”

 She caressed his cheek the way Marian had when Roland was a baby, the way he was certain she still stroked Henry’s when she tucked him in at night.

 “‘Kay,” Roland breathed, his eyes sealing shut as his face stretched into a yawn. “Just don’t...leave…”

 She blinked rapidly, and Robin slid his arm around her, loving how she stood and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as if it belonged there.

 “I won’t,” she whispered, inhaling as Robin kissed the top of her head. “I promise. Not this time.”

 His heart swelled, and he kissed the tip of her nose, loving the way she nuzzled into his cheek and neck.

 “I’m glad,” he breathed, encircling her with his arms as they both looked down on his sleeping son. “I’m looking forward to waking up with you tomorrow.”

 “Mmmm,” she hummed, wrapping her arms around his middle. “Me, too.”

 Something inside of him melted then and there.

 They walked out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, holding on to each other as they went back downstairs and headed straight to the kitchen.

 “Are you hungry?” he asked, and she nodded as she fought off a yawn.

 “Starving,” she admitted. “I didn’t get to finish dinner. Too distracted for some reason.”

 “I can’t imagine why,” he grinned as he went to the refrigerator and took out the container of Alonzo’s chicken and gnocchi soup, holding it up for her approval before setting it down on the counter and dipping some out into two bowls.

 “Like hell you can’t,” she returned as he popped her bowl inside the microwave and set the timer.

 He chuckled as she moved in behind him and slid her arms around his waist.

 “I quite enjoyed distracting you, I must say,” he said. “In fact, I’d like to distract you again, if you’ll let me.”

 She kissed his back through his shirt.

 “Not until I’ve eaten,” she muttered before letting go and stepping back. “But after that, knock yourself out.”

 He grinned as he took her bowl out of the microwave and set it on the counter before placing his inside, watching a wide yawn overtake her face.

 “As delightful as that sounds, I may need to wait,” he observed. “Until after you’ve gotten a good night’s sleep.”

 She laughed.

 “It wouldn’t do for me to fall asleep while being distracted,” she mused, taking the spoon he held out in her direction.

 “My ego might never recover,” he agreed.

 “It’s not your ego I’m concerned with at the moment,” she said, arching one brow in his direction as her gaze skimmed downward. His inner thighs tingled, the thoughts of being inside her ramping up a libido that should probably remain on pause for the time being.

 “Trust me,” he countered. “Little ego doesn’t function well if big ego is mortified.” She snort-laughed with a mouthful of soup, and he chuckled, knowing he was good and well lost to this woman and perfectly fine with that fact.

 They ate side by side at his table, unable to keep from touching as they ate the soup, washing it down with a full-bodied zinfandel.  

 “I still can’t believe this is real,” she confessed as he refilled her wine glass. “Us. Here. Together. I just never thought I’d have this.”

 He took her hand within his a stroked her knuckles with his thumb.

 “Neither did I,” he admitted with a shrug. “But some surprises are good ones.”

 She kissed him full on the mouth.

 He made love to her slowly, treasuring every sigh he coaxed out of her, memorizing the contours of her face as he pleasured her with his fingers, enjoying the heady buzz of sex, wine and woman that left him panting and hard. Coherent thought deserted him the moment he entered her body as sensation took over and pushed them both to the brink, and he lost himself inside of her just after she broke apart around him, whispering names and muttering curses, claiming each other body and soul. They rode out the swells together, unwilling to let go even when neither of them had the energy to move any more.

 “Now I know I smell like sex,” she breathed, and he chuckled, finally allowing himself to roll off of her and pull out,  immediately missing the intimacy of being inside her.

 “You and me both,” he said, standing and moving to the bathroom to grab a hand towel. He sat back down on the bed and wiped between her legs, mesmerized again by the perfection of her nudity. “Do you want to take a shower?”

 “In the morning,” she replied. “Right now I just need to go to the bathroom and get some sleep.”

 “Fair enough,” he smiled, helping her up before giving her ass a soft squeeze.

 She donned one of his t-shirts along with her sleep shorts as he tugged on a pair of boxers, both of them cognizant of the fact that Roland could walk in on them at any point during the night. As happy as Roland was that Regina was here with them, Robin didn’t relish the thought of answering questions about why the two of them were sleeping together naked, especially not when his son’s innocent remarks all too often got overheard by Frankie, August and John.

 “Your bed’s really comfortable,” she muttered as she shifted to lie on her side and fluff a pillow below her neck just the way she liked it.

 “I’m glad to hear it,” he returned, sliding in behind her and spooning her to his chest. “I’m hoping I can convince you to spend a good amount of time in it.” She smiled and hummed her approval as he stroked her outer thigh, her eyes already drifting shut, her breathing already steadying itself.

 “Sounds...like….a plan…” she muttered, the words barely audible through her yawn. He smiled as he watched her fall asleep, thinking how much his life had changed in just over a week’s time, knowing that as crazy as all of this was, he was more than willing to go along for the ride.

 “Goodnight, Regina,” he whispered, his arms now as full as his heart as he allowed sleep’s persistence to gently tug him into oblivion.

____________________________________________________________

 They woke up alone, no Roland in sight, still wrapped around each other and warm from sleep. They indulged in silent snuggling as sunlight tried to sneak in through closed blinds, small strokes and soft kisses that gradually lured them out of bed and into the shower where touches turned more fervent and need went wild.  He found himself wishing that his shower was bigger, that his ass didn’t keep hitting the shower door when his thrusts became harder, but then he didn’t care as her mouth slid over wet skin, as her teeth nipped his shoulder, as her walls fluttered around him and they both fought to keep quiet, as he nearly collapsed against the shower wall, trapping her between him and it, unable to keep from smiling as she touched his face and grinned.

 “I’m going to be sore tomorrow,” she said. “My body’s not used to this much sex.”

 “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, reaching behind him to turn off the water.

 “God, no,” she returned, biting her lower lip before he leaned in for a soft kiss. “But I might want to pick up a good lubricant.”

 “I don’t mind doing that if you want me to,” he offered, nudging the shower door open and handing her a towel. “And please tell me if anything I do makes you uncomfortable. I don’t want you to feel anything but pleasure when we make love.”

 She raised up on her toes and kissed him before towelling off her hair and wrapping it around herself.

 “Trust me,” she assured him. “Sex with you feels amazing. And let me take care of the lube--I can get freebies from pharmacy reps.”

 “I see,” he said. “So we can sample all of them to find out which ones work best. For research purposes, of course.”

“Of course,” she stated, tugging on the towel he’d secured around his waist. “Research is very important.”

 He kissed her again, moaning into her mouth as her tongue tangled with his, feeling the need to touch her even though his penis was soft and spent.

 “I’m tempted to eat you out right now,” he hummed, trailing his lips down the side of her neck. “As gorgeous as you are.”  She shivered and clasped on to him tight.

 “What about Roland?” she breathed, unfazed as her towel hit the floor. “Won’t he be awake soon?”

 “Probably,” he muttered, tracing a thumb over one nipple, entranced by her broken sigh. “But I can be quick.”

 He felt her grin as she took his hands in her own and kissed the tip of his nose.

 “Can I take a rain check?” she asked. “I’m sort of starving at the moment, and I’m still tingling from the shower.”

 His lips feathered across hers as he cupped her breast.

 “Whatever you want,” he answered, raising his brows in her direction. “Gives me something to look forward to.”

 A small knock on the bedroom door caught their attention, and Robin tugged on his boxers before stepping out of and shutting the door to the master bathroom, giving Regina some privacy. He then opened his bedroom door, finding a groggy Roland standing on the other side, his hair sticking up in at least five different directions, his Curious George clasped snugly to his body. Robin walked to him and picked him up, cherishing the feel of his son snuggling into his body, all heavy and warm from sleep.

 Warm...but not hot.

 “How are you feeling?” Robin asked, sitting on the bed as he felt Roland’s forehead, sighing in relief at the cool, clammy skin that greeted his touch.

 “Hungry. And thirsty,” Roland whispered, and Robin smiled. Roland had barely eaten for the past two days.

 “So am I,” Regina added as she stepped into the bedroom, clad in her sleep shorts and one of Robin’s hoodies. It nearly swallowed her, but God, she looked perfect, damp curls and all.  She touched Roland’s cheeks and nodded, casting Robin a smile he couldn’t mistake.

 “That fever has finally broken,” she stated, sitting down beside Robin and rubbing Roland on the back. “It may come back as the day progresses, so I’d get some food into his system while he’s hungry. The flu is a roller coaster, but this is a good sign that he’s finally on the road to recovery.”

 “Sounds like a plan,” Robin said, kissing his son’s mussed curls. “What would you like for breakfast, Roland? What sounds good to you?”

 The boy leaned back and rubbed sleep from his eyes before tossing a shy grin at Regina.

 “Pancakes,” he answered, burrowing his face into his father’s chest.

 “I love pancakes,” Regina said, toying with Roland’s curls. “Especially blueberry ones.”

 “Chocolate chip,” Roland returned, crinkling his eyebrows.

 “That’s Henry’s favorite, too,” Regina stated. “At our house, we make the batter plain so we can toss in whatever we want.”

 “That’s what Daddy does,” Roland said, sitting up taller. “He lets me put in my own chocolate chips.”

 “Within reason,” Robin added with a raise of his brows. “If this one had his way, he’d use an entire bag for one breakfast.”

 Roland giggled, and Robin’s shoulders eased as the stress from having a sick child began to work it’s way out of his body.

 “Henry tried to make Skittles pancakes when he was about your age,” Regina said, chuckling as Roland’s mouth dropped open. “It didn’t turn out well--trust me.”

 “That’s just silly,” Roland giggled. “You can’t make Skittles pancakes!”

 “No,” Regina agreed with a smile. “You can’t.”

 Robin stood, still holding his son, and the three of them made their way downstairs to the kitchen where he deposited Roland onto one of the counters.

 “You want me to make coffee?” Regina asked, and he nodded, pointing her towards the coffee maker and his stash of beans behind it. “Ohhh--Kona blend. You like the good stuff, I see.”

 He grinned as he raided his pantry for flour, salt, and sugar.

 “Only the best for me,” he returned, tossing her a meaningful glance. “You should know that by now.”

 She blushed and bit her lower lip, and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to press her into the refrigerator and kiss her senseless.

 “Uncle Frank says Daddy’s a coffee snob,” Roland stated. “Whatever that means.”

 “Yeah, well, Uncle Frank says a lot of stuff,” Robin returned. “Stuff you don’t necessarily need to hear.”

 “You mean like when he said you needed a good fu--?”

 “Exactly,!” Robin interrupted, practically shoving a cup of apple juice into his son’s hands. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

 “Whatever that is, it must be pretty awful,” Roland returned, taking a sip of his juice. “‘Cause Nonno chased him out of the kitchen when he said it.”

 He heard Regina snicker and turned to see her fighting back a laugh.

 “I would have chased him out of the kitchen, too,” Regina said. “Frank needs to control his tongue.”

 “Among other things,” Robin stated.

 He skimmed his tongue over his lips in her direction when Roland wasn’t watching, and her eyes flashed back at him knowingly before she resumed her task of making coffee. The smell of fresh brew overtook his senses as he measured out dry ingredients and began to assemble the wet ones.

 “Here,” Regina whispered, nudging a mug into his hands. “You take cream only, right?”

 “Good memory,” he grinned.

 “Not hard to remember when I take mine the same way,” she stated, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. The fact that she wore no bra under his hoodie was starting to mess with both his brain and lower anatomy, so he silently instructed his cock to stand down. Just then, the doorbell rang, and they both shot confused looks towards the front door.

 “You expecting anyone?” she asked.

 “No,” he returned, casting a glance towards the clock. Who the hell was stopping by at eight thirty-two a.m.? He made his way to the door and peered out the peephole, shaking his head in confusion as he opened the front door.

 “So sorry to disturb you,” Marco stated, sliding past Robin, bearing a large tray. “We just wanted to bring you some breakfast so you and Regina could enjoy your morning.”

 Alonzo waltzed in behind his brother, carrying a basket of what Robin assumed by the smell were blueberry muffins.

 “Good morning!” he heard Marco exclaim as the older man entered the kitchen, and he turned to follow, nearly shutting the door in August’s face.

 “I’m only the transportation,” August muttered, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I told them this was a bad idea, but you know how stubborn those two can be.”

 Robin swallowed down his embarrassment as he motioned August inside, glad he’d thought to put on a t-shirt with his boxers, at least, and wondering just how Regina was faring.

 “Is there anyone else?” he asked, looking past his cousin before shutting the front door. “I mean, I’d hate to be rude if you all sent out invitations.”

 “Just us,” August assured him. “Pop must have gotten up at six a.m. this morning to start cooking for the two of you. He and Alonzo hatched this scheme last night, evidently. I think they were as excited over the prospect of Regina spending the night with you as you were.”

 Robin rubbed the back of his neck, hoping that Regina wouldn’t run out the front door screaming at this unexpected invasion. He found her pouring a cup of coffee for Alonzo, her eyes widening in Robin’s direction for a split second before relaxing back into a smile that was charming the socks off his father-in-law.

 “Forgive us,” Alonzo began, taking a sip of his coffee and nodding his approval. “We only meant to give you all some extra free time this morning. Plus it’s Roland’s favorite breakfast casserole. I thought it might help him feel better.”

 “I do feel better, Nonno,” Roland said, taking another sip of his juice. “Gina says my fever broke.”

 “That’s good news!” Marco chimed in, giving his great nephew a squeeze. Roland hugged him back, nearly sloshing apple juice all over Marco’s coat in the process. “We won’t stay, though. We wouldn’t want to intrude on anything important.”

 “Like breakfast?” Roland asked, happily biting into a blueberry muffin.

 “Like dessert,” August stated, raising his hands over his head when Robin whacked him soundly on the arm.

 “Silly!” Roland giggled. “You don’t get dessert until after supper.”

 “Nonetheless, we should be going,” Alonzo said, turning to give Regina a quick kiss on the cheek. “We’re so glad you and Robin got to talk things out, you know,” the older man added. “We just needed you to know that we approve.”

 Regina inhaled sharply, blinking back tears as she sniffed and wiped her cheek. Alonzo deposited his mug on the counter and drew her in for a hug.

 “My Marian would like you,” Alonzo whispered, drawing Regina in close. “She’d be happy that her heart beats on inside of you.” She drew back far enough to look the older man in the eyes.

 “Thank you,” Regina managed, nodding as Alonzo released her and clapped his hands together.

 “Marco--we should go now,” the older man stated, just as a loud knock was heard on the front door.

 “You expecting anyone?” August asked, earning himself a death glare from Robin.

 “I wasn’t expecting you,” Robin returned before making his way to the door yet again. He shook his head in amazement, opening the door to an obviously chilly but smiling Mary Margaret, David and Henry.

 “Sorry,” Mary Margaret stated before he could even say hello. “We ended up going out for breakfast earlier than we’d planned, so we thought we’d bring you two some waffles and bacon.”

 Henry extended two to-go boxes in Robin’s direction, making him sigh as he motioned them inside, hearing a new commotion rise up from his kitchen. He made his way back, watching as introductions were made and hugs were given, as more coffee and juice were poured and napkins were produced. Regina crept over to him, handing him his coffee before taking a sip of hers.

 “Do you want to invite anyone else?” she quipped. “I think we have room for a few more before we violate the fire code.”

 “I’ll post an invitation on Facebook,” he returned. “Then alert the local media.” She chuckled, and he grinned, shaking his head as a makeshift breakfast buffet was created on his small dining room table over the din of excited conversation.  “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I had no idea…”

 She leaned over and kissed him, silencing him as soundly as he had her last night.

 “No apologies, okay?” she said, cupping his face with one hand, holding her coffee with the other. “After all, my family is a part of the invasion force, too.”

 He grinned and sighed as he examined his kitchen, filled to absolute capacity with the people who now made up the fabric of his life.

 “What are you gonna do?’ he mused, sliding one arm around her waist as they observed their sons laughing together, as Marco, August and David exchanged stories, as Mary Margaret clapped her hands excitedly when August confided that he’d asked Belle out on a date. This was good, he realized in the midst of his exasperation, the fact that they had people in their lives who loved them so much, people who were cheering them on as they entered a new phase of living, people who’d held onto them when they’d broken apart and had helped piece them back together one day at a time. He was one lucky man, and his chest swelled when he kissed the top of her still damp curls, breathing in the scent of his shampoo in her hair, loving how that simple gesture made him feel ten feet tall.

 “I don’t know about you,” she began, tossing him a sly glance he’d like to eat before grabbing up a fork. “But I’m going to grab a waffle before they disappear.” She then made her way through the small crowd, sending him a come-hither look as she popped a piece of muffin into her mouth, marking him as her own for the rest of eternity.

 “So am I,” he muttered to himself, vowing then and there that he would grab life with Regina by the horns and live every second of it to its fullest without one single regret.

[lamiaward]

keep your fangs away from my gal pal or I will punch you.

The story: Season six au. Features; Dracula(who may have some surprises up his sleeve), Regina who is bitten by a vampire , a very worried and pissed off Emma Swan and one Henry Mills that will do research and pretty much try to protect his mom. Also two idiots in love ( one who does not fully realize it- or thinks she could settle for less- and one that still does not think she deserves this -nor does she think it is possible that someone like Emma Swan would love her like this)

Warnings: vampire mind control - - > takes away consent. It is not overly graphic , but if you are triggered by these things you might not read this at all or skip the middle. 

I don’t own OUAT.

She doesn’t want it. She wants it desperately. She can’t want it.

There is still a slight iron tang, an aftertaste- there is first warm & perfect Ambrosia, taste of cider and adrenaline and chocolate melting on her tongue. The taste of cheese cake and cappuccino is more powerful than the bitter tang that follows. It is maddingly addictive.

The dream is a sequence of fast-flying images, sensations. It is cold hands buried in her hands, that helpless anger she fears from her evil queen days, the revulsive mixture of want and nausea, air tickling at her neck, fog clinging to her skin, the musky earth, the flap of wings and – her ears throb at the sound of what seems to be a howling wolf.

When she wakes, her chest feels like that wolf is laying it and she gasps shakily. Pushing herself up has never been so difficult, and the world is suddenly only colours. A yellow blur in front of her moves and she is vaguely aware of her own name breaking the silence in the room. It leaves her with a sense of vertigo and nearly has her dry-heave, how suddenly the world forces itself into focus again.

Closer. Regina didn’t mean to think it. She definitely did not mean for Emma to immediately lean in. the nausea and vertigo is fading, leaving only a feeling as though she has been spinning around too many times. But- the idea that she just may have forced her will on Emma is-

“Emma” she gasps, feeling Emma’s heart race beneath her hand as she places it on her chest. How far they have come- that Emma is hardly faced with her hand there, only glances at it briefly before smiling at her.

Clos- no! I am not forcing my will on her. It is difficult. Her teeth feel like they’re submerged in water from the Pole’s, and her gums like the dentist’s hand slipped and the dental explorer sunk into them. The last time her throat was dry and painful like this, she had a dangerously high fever. But she could’ve dealt with all of that.

Were it not for the smell.

She has had whiffs of Emma before, when they were fighting or during family hugs. She knows what Emma smells like sweaty after a workout and what she smells like when she has just showered. That was already bad sometimes, making her scold herself at how completely infantile it is to blush and feel butterflies.

This is much worse. This is a sudden awareness that Emma smells delicious, a hint of something she cannot identify intensifying the ache in her teeth, the unconscious leaning forward, the way that jugular looks embarrassingly and frightening inviting. Her head actually starts to hurt and her hands trembling as she clenches them into fists, fighting against the urge to suck on Emma’s neck and break the skin there.

“ Regina?” her hand is gently pulled away from Emma’s chest and she manages to yank her eyes away from her neck to look at the frown that is kind of – for the sake of your pride, stop imitating a lovesick adolescent. She scolds herself, but it is more out of habit than true anger. Any of the things she catches herself doing around Emma- such as smiling like a fool- is embarrassing, but she has to admit it is also slightly amazing that she can feel like this. She still remembers the years of the curse, where feeling anything was an impossibility until Henry.

“ Are you all right?” Emma says, still frowning.

“ I am perfectly fine”

“ Uh good. Mind explaining why you are suddenly in my bed then?” Emma voice is rough- probably from sleep- and her cheeks are slightly flushed and she smells so delicious that Regina has to bite her tongue not to lean forward and make a dreadful mistake.

“ I beg your pardon?” she feigns confusion, tries to force her slightly sluggish and single-minded brain (Emma, Emma’s neck, Emma’s smell, Emma) to come up with a reasonable excuse for why she had been curled around Emma, her head pressed into the woman’s shoulder before waking and hovering above her. Their legs are still tangled.

“ You. In my uh bed?” there is a tiny grin and an arched eyebrow. “ I am pretty sure that I would have remembered if we had decided to finally have a sleepover”.

She stares at Emma with her patented ‘what are you blabbering about, you idiot’ for a moment before she remembers. The woods, a lost soulmate and Emma trailing behind her. She smiles without thinking, scolds herself again. It is still lacklustre- why should she not smile when Emma’s eyes are slightly mischievous and her hair is tangled and she is  smiling like that?- but she does it anyways. It might ruin this relationship the two of you share. For Henry’s sake, at least, do not reveal what kind of impact this woman has on you.

She manages to shrink her smile and take on a semi-disinterested air. “I must have gotten into the wrong bed when I returned from the toilet”.

Emma doesn’t really believe her , she can see that. Wretched lie detector. But she just shrugs and smiles. “ Okay”.

“ O- yes. Fine. Do you wish to have breakfast?”.

Emma grins. “ Will you make it?”.

“ Naturally. You do not honestly believe I would allow anyone who is related to you in my kitchen, do you?”.

Emma rolls her eyes. “ what is that supposed to mean?”.

“ I cannot trust against my kitchen applications, when slight frustration will make you take apart my toaster”.

Emma snorts. “ Slight frustration. Yeah, right”. She gets out of bed, stretches. Regina pretends she is not staring at the way her shirt rides up, tells herself there is a perfectly normal explanation for this, one that has nothing to do with feelings thank you very much.

Emma smiles. “ I will wake our resident teenager. See you in ten minutes?” and she is gone.

Damn. Regina tries to curb these feelings, the easy smile and the fond headshake and everything as she calls out “ Do give the right example, NO RUNNING “ and only hears Emma laugh. It is really difficult, however, when she knows Henry will be grumpy with Emma – only to brighten as he sees the stack of pancakes- and Emma will shovel food in her mouth while teasing Henry and complimenting Regina’s cooking and even Snow and Charming are no longer the plight they once were.

She secretly loves mornings like this (even – or maybe especially because- she doesn’t deserve them), finds them calming and even enjoys how three people might be talking at once and David is prone to knocking things over when he is recounting a story and it just chaos. It is things she had so little off growing up and now she knows how much she has missed it.

It is family. It is hers.

It is perhaps two weeks later, weeks during which constant exposure to Emma Swan has made not smiling oddly difficult and her body has to suffer. Her heart rate triples sometimes, her mouth gets too dry and worst – her gum is constantly throbbing and her teeth feel like they’re dipped in ice cream for artificial blood is apparently not enough. No, apparently she needs warm blood that preferably comes from a knight that sometimes( often) trips over branches in the woods when she is chasing things and hardly leaves Regina’s side because “it is too dangerous , no fucking way”.

Regina still has dreams with whispered voices, and fog and sometimes horrible nightmares that lead to nights of whispered conversations and hands almost touching, nights they never talk about. She has cravings that means she tried artificial blood which she nearly spat in Emma’s face, her dignity the only thing avoiding that particular disaster ( Emma still laughed at her expression though). She has had fights with vampires, their influence on her (and Emma, who she had spotted slowly bending her head back obediently as one of those vampires had obviously cornered her) tampered by the magic shared between them. Or that’s Regina’s theory for why she feels less frozen, less liable to be controlled by them when she is around Emma. The evil queen hasn’t shown herself… but there have been rumours that make Regina tense and thinking my fault my fault my fault.

Despite all this, these two weeks have been quite wonderful. Even with the years she has possibly lost with how her stomach and heart and basically all her useless organs sometimes( always) react to Emma Swan and Henry still has not managed to find all the information on Dracula, their family- including the two idiots, Snow and Charming- have been some of the best of her life.

Now, she is alone for what feels like the first time in those two weeks.

She had tried to stay away, she had. But like a small child, lost in the forest and hearing sounds, she had been unable to resist, unable to stay away. Every time she had raised her foot, told herself ‘do not be foolish, leave” she put it down again. When she attempted to walk back to where she knew Emma was waiting for her, she had instead suddenly found herself in an unfamiliar part of the forest. It was frightening, this loss of control- the slight blackouts or trances that went with it

But she couldn’t fight it.

And after a while, there was that strange sense of tranquillity again. Her own voice was screaming at her to leave, that it was a trap and she knew but her entire body felt numb. It was difficult to describe even, this sensation of knowing you were making a grievous mistake but not feeling the usual reactions to danger. Her heartbeat was calm, her hands were not clammy and she could almost appreciate the dark beauty of overgrown plants , thorny roses and wood giants around her.

She arrived at a house. It was not small, but it was also not truly grand. However, it seemed like it was trying to be grand, like it was intimidating a great castle overgrown by roses and such that kept a slumbering princess inside. It definitely had the stillness of such a place though.

When her hand pressed against the door, it swung open quietly. She did not hear it slam closed, but when she forced her too-heavy head to turn ( and she only managed to turn it enough to glance at the door from her eye corners) she saw it was closed. It should have installed a sense of panic in her- or at the very least made her tense and wary. Instead, she felt that same odd tranquillity as she glances around the room she was in.

It was – not dark exactly, but kind of like it was twilight even though she knew the sun was still shining brightly outside. There was furniture carefully placed around the room -sofa, antique table, armchairs- and papers with symbols scattered around the room. She automatically stepped towards the long wall that consisted of bookcases, her magic automatically started an itch-like feeling along her arms before she shivered. Magic. Part of the books were obviously magical ones. She wondered whether it were the ones she recognized to be made from human bones.

When she reached out for one book that made her arm tingle – the kind of burning tingle that your feet get after they have fallen asleep- , she only felt the warmth and slight nausea for one moment before she pulled and the bookcases ‘opened’. She would have expected a long, swivelling staircase or at the very least a small one. Instead, it looked more like a ravine.

She glanced around, then made a motion. She clutched the stone she had transported from outside for a moment before throwing it in the mostly dark abyss before her. She should have heard nothing, at first. Instead, she heard something faint. It could be the air, it could be breathing far below. She still could not feel anything about it.

She did a quick calculation after the stone hit the ground. If her estimations were correct, she could not just jump. Not without most likely breaking her leg, that is. She decided to teleport , even though it was also dangerous. She could tell her body where to go- except she had no idea whether there was a wall or perhaps an object. Then again, she had done more dangerous and unpredictable things- such as stopping the diamond with the saviour on her side.

Roughly ten seconds later, Regina’s heels land on what sounds like stone. She has heard horrifying stories about people who blindly teleported, getting stuck in walls or breaking bones or even transfiguring their skin and bones (all told by a gleeful Rumple) so she moves very cautiously, finally managing to feel something. The relief is only brief- soon there is that empty tranquillity again.

The fireball that was spluttering to life in her hand dies when she realizes she doesn’t need it. It is all perfectly clear. She can see the stalactites, the slightly iridescent pool in a corner, her own breath before her, the cabinets against cave walls – the outline of the horrors floating in the pots that they hold- , the claw marks on the tables.. there are so many different colours- from the magic powders that are held inside the pots on a line of shelves, for example- and smells that she staggers back a little at sensation overload.

It is the far back that finally makes her feel the cold , though.

The heart has a part called the tricuspid valve, which looks like strands of (red) spider web pulled taut. That is what it looks like, and beneath- there is – she doesn’t remotely know what it is. It is fat, and sort of round and it pulses . She gasps when there is an outline of and hand, the material moving wildly. Her heart finally gets the memo of ‘danger. Danger. DANGER” and she steps back-

The cold fingers pressed against her neck make her freeze. She wants to rip herself away from this creature, and curses her body as it instead sinks into the embrace and the touch manages to make her skin heat despite the fact that there is a cold arm wrapped around her.

She tries to push back, screams at her arms to push up, her legs to move, any muscle to do something – but there is a hand brushing away her hair and pressing lips to the side of her neck and she can’t move. Can hardly even breath. The lips touch her feverish skin, drag over it and she shudders. She can feel the chuckle against her ear, and the fangs that sc-

Somehow, she manages to free herself. Her skin is burning, her mind is sluggish and walking if pretty much like treading through mud- or even quicksand- but she manages to put some distance between her and the woman. Feels the fire spark automatically at how she is looked at. In the struggling light of this odd room, she does not see any details- she just sees the woman’s bared teeth, the way she keeps licking her lips, the eyes with the very wide pupils.

The last time she felt like this, her mother was threatening all she loved once again.

There is no thought , it is all instinct when she runs away. She can feel her heart now, thrumming against her chest and the burst of adrenaline makes sure that she is faster than usually- halfway there, she calls on her magic, the air around her already turning purpl-  she weakly fights against the arms that wrap around her like an iron band and pull her back into soft body.

“ I am not allowed” the woman whispers, lips pressed to Regina’s ear. She can feel a sharp-nailed finger stroke her cheek.  “ But you won’t tell, will you?  “ that hand is buried in her hand now and Regina pants as her head is pulled back, her eyes wide with fear and another feeling that makes her disgusted with herself.  

There is already slight pain, those fangs starting to dig in when the woman lets out a terrifying growl and is pulled backwards. Regina hears sounds, but they don’t register. Whatever meagre energy she has left, goes to keeping herself awake. The sounds are weakening, the dark increasing when a slight coldness on her arms makes her wrench her eyes open.

She looks perhaps six, seven years old. She has chubby cheeks and bright eyes- caramel ones- and long, curly brown hair. Regina automatically smiles, the girl giving a faint smile back. When she lets herself fall to her knees and presses against Regina, sighing softly as she pulls at Regina’s hair. “ Pretty” she mutters.

Regina tightens her grip on the girl as the woman growls.  “Yes, very much so. Now move, so I can- “.

The girl raises her head briefly, shakes her head. “ No mama”.

“ Not your ‘mama’. And you- “.

“ No “.

Regina has to fight her instincts when the girl raises her head and she is just able to see the dried blood on and around her mouth. She freezes, is confused. The girl is not really cold and she could swear there are no sharp-

“ What do you want, then?” the woman growls, stalking towards them. Regina flinches slightly when the woman snarls, and reveals those teeth that had nearly buried in her once again.

The girl in her arms frowns, worries at her lip. Suddenly, her voice brightens. “ Keep!” she says and Regina melts slightly at the expression on her face, so proud. She glances at Regina, who gives the approval this girl obviously seeks by smiling brightly (if weakly).

“ Keep, ma-“.

The girl pouts as the woman grabs a large stool and throws it against one of the cabinets, the oddly loud sound of glass shattering making Regina hiss at the slight pain in her ears. “ Don’t call me that”.

Regina manages to push herself up and throw a fireball when the woman stalks closer. The vampire laughs and when Regina blinks – there are very dark green eyes with specks of light brown very close to her own. She watches the pupils expand, the green slowly pressed away by black as the woman comes closer and licks her lips. “ Just one taste” she mutters.

“ I will never allow it” Regina croaks, trying to summon up the arrogance and cruelty of the evil queen.  She just feels lost and tiny and embarrassingly afraid (and mad that she would ever try to be anything like the queen again).  She might have even done something like whimpered , if it were not the for the girl still pressed against her and playing with her hair. “ Stop it, mama”.

The vampire growls.  “last warning. Otherwise- snapped neck”.

And that apparently gives Regina the strength she needed.

She smirks , then flicks her hand. The pained growl is satisfying, but the woman is already pressing the heavy bench away from herself so she snaps her fingers. The girl in her arms claps her hand with mirth as several pots explode and what- are those human embryos is inside them slaps the woman in her face. She wipes at the trail on her cheek, plucks several bent, pink things from her hair.

The girl throws her arms around Regina’s neck as she teleports, careful to not go outside even though every instinct in her body is berating her for not doing so. “ Will the sunlight harm you?” she asks the girl. She gets a blank look. Her English is not that good yet. She doesn’t discern an obvious accent, but-

“ Sunlight? Pain?” she asks the girl, who narrows her eyes in concentration. “ Su-?”

“ Sunlight, the- “ she nearly curses as the bookcases slam open. She glances at the door- can she risk. The girl struggles, so she puts her down, grabs for her again when she starts to run towards the obviously irate vampire stalking towards Regina.

Already, she feels her muscles stiffening. She hates it. She hates the sluggishness of her mind and the rebellion of her limbs around these creatures. She hates how easily it is to give into the lure, how she has to use whatever little muscle control she has to bite on her lip to keep it from letting a soft sigh escape.

She stares at the woman with that hatred as she approaches Regina, the girl holding her hand. She is pulling at it as the woman leans in , pulling and hissing slightly and saying “no! No!” she is still pulling at the woman’s blouse when there is a little smirk. Regina only feels breathless and weak and faint for three seconds- that tongue is lapping at the blood on her lip – before the door explodes.

She really should tell Emma that battle cries serve no purpose, apart from telling the enemy that you are coming.

She would- but she is falling and tired and swaying. She catches a glimpse of a familiar look, the same fury and then coldness that she had seen when Emma had pointed a gun at a childhood friend. She struggles to reach her, she can’t. she cannot ruin herself like that, can’t be like me , to tell her to not be a moron but she is already slamming into the woman with a furious scream.

Never thinking about consequences. As the vampire easily throws Emma off her, Regina uses the distraction to throw another fireball. This one has the hissing woman stumble back, glare at her before smirking. She coos ‘come here pre-tty” Regina almost does, her foot already moving forward, when she suddenly regains all control as Emma screams “ YOU LEAVE HER ALONE “ and fires a blast of light magic that throws the woman back and into a gargantuan fridge behind them.

She reacts without thinking, her only thought EMMA! When she recognizes the woman is ready to lunge for the brave idiot that is using magic with one hand and fumbling for the stake in her belt with the other.

The world is blurred for a moment, her muscles burn and then she is on the other side of the room , with Emma in her arms. She arches her eyebrow a little, looks at the open-mouthed woman in her arms, then drily remarks “well, that is new”.

The sound of a fridge being thrown makes her look at the vampire again. She is baring her teeth, clenching her fists and looks seconds apart from killing them both. She makes a quick decision, mutters “ Hold on to me” to Emma.

Emma’s eyes widen.  “Regina, don’t you da- “ she clenches Regina’s arms as she starts to run. She feels ridiculous at first, as her speed is nothing to write home to, then the world starts to blur slightly and stomach sorts of lunges and when she blinks, they are at the edge of the forest. She blinks at the sudden (if, fortunately, weak) sunlight, takes deep breaths of that earth/ wet leaves smell, and generally just basks in no longer being in a musky, eerie vampire nest.

There is just one thing. I will have to go back for the girl. The girl did not seem malnourished or unhappy, but she is not going to leave her with a creature like that woman. Even if – is she one of those creatures? She seems to require blood to-

“ Uh Regina?” it is Emma’s voice that forces her to focus on the present. When Regina looks at her, she is surprised at how close Emma is. Their lips are very close, close enough that Regina only would have had to lean a little forward to taste Emma’s tongue as she licks her lips. “ Why did you not let me- “.

“ foolishly risk your own life?”.

“ I almost had her”.

“Emma, we are not even aware what these creatures are capable off. You really have to be more-“.

“ I am not going to- damn it, Regina put me down, this is really weird”. Regina is almost tempted to keep Emma in her arms- no matter how hazardous it would be to her physical and possibly mental health, when it means they’re close enough they could ‘accidentally’ kiss, or she would only need to turn her head to slide her-

“ Fine” Regina actually drops her when the tingling in her gums start again, trying to be subtly about pressing her lips together. Hoping Emma will take it for displeasure and annoyance. This plan slightly fails when Emma lets out a startled “ what the – OUCH. Regina”.

Regina doesn’t know whether she wants to laugh or apologize several times as Emma falls on the floor and glares at her. She offers her a hand – “ Can I trust you not to suddenly let go and let me fall again? “ .  “ Do not bite the hand that feeds you, dear, or are you forgetting I have those brownies you love that are waiting in my cupboard”  – except she keeps forgetting about how she is stronger now so when she pulls…

Emma stumbles into her and Regina gasps as they end up pressed together, with Emma’s hands on her hips. She smells Emma’s lunch as she worriedly asks “ are you okay?” and is acutely aware of how fast Emma’s heart is beating. And how that makes her smell even – for the sake of all the entities in the Enchanted forest, exercise a little control.

She manages to grit out “I am fine. Are you?”.

“ Eh, my ass just slightly hurts. That’s all”.

“ Right” Regina really tried. She really, really tried but whatever awful poison is in her blood wins from her for a moment and her eyes drift to Emma’s jugular. It is Herculean effort, but she manages to yank her eyes up. Step away, before you do something that you cannot blame on this illness. She would have. She would have stepped away. Except then she hears Emma’s breathing stutter and her smell changes- to something even better, which is just unfair.

Karma. Always messing with me . She thinks absent-mindedly as she automatically presses even closer to Emma. She is only half-aware of the startled gasp and the “ what the fuck Regina, what are y-you- “ , which is not half as interesting as the soft skin of Emma’s neck or that –

Lately, Regina will insist it was the poison in her blood, or momentary insanity or just the only way she could keep herself from sinking her teeth into Emma again. She will claim a lot and Snow will smile gently and patronizingly, David will just laugh and briefly squeeze her arm and Henry – Henry will give her a look that she would see in a mirror if she hang one behind all the morons that somehow became council members.

It is not. It is just how she has started to want Emma Swan- how she had wanted to nearly break her at first, had wanted the challenge and excitement the infuriating woman brought, later had wanted her support and magic and finally had wanted everything of this flawed, occasionally thick-headed, brave and wonderful woman. Every shy see-that’s-a-start smile and every eye roll after her sassy remarks and every weak joke and – just everything.

That is why she kisses Emma Swan. That is why her hands are trembling as they take Emma’s face between them so she can press her lips to that mouth she has had too many dreams about. It is why she doesn’t mind sighing this time, why she smiles against those lips as the hands on her hips tighten and slightly chapped lips are moving against her, the taste of hot chocolate in her mouth and she loves-

She nearly screams when Emma staggers back, pales and presses her hand to her lips before saying “ I am sorry”

And runs.

--

I have my reasons for this ending (but sorry, honestly) which will be revealed… possibly the next chapter.

[pastordorry-blog]

Forgiveness

Lord’s Prayer Week 5

Matthew 18:21-35

February 10, 2019

           Some of the parables Jesus tells are hard to understand, but I think we’ve got a no-brainer on our hands today.  Even without his words of warning at the end, we have no trouble getting the point:  Since God has forgiven us of our debts, debts we could never repay on our own, we should forgive the debts of others.  Easy, right?  Ha!  Forgiveness may be simple in theory, but it can be pretty complicated in practice.

Phil and I bought our first house back in the early 90’s in a little town called North Wales.  It’s in Montgomery County, just off Route 202, about 8 miles north of Norristown.  It was a cute little rancher with a cute little yard on a cute, quiet street.  But even though the street was quiet, it could get crowded.  Most of the houses either didn’t have a driveway or had a driveway that only fit one car.  So there were a lot of cars parked on the street.  We were only there a year or so when one morning when I was running late for work, I backed out the driveway and—you guessed it, bam!  I backed right in to the car of the man who lived across the street and one house over from us.

I knocked on his door, apologized, gave him my insurance information, etc.  Everything was fine…until about a year later, I backed out of the driveway with a different car and hit his car again!  This time, I felt so much shame, for a few seconds I toyed with the idea of just driving away and pretending as if nothing had happened.  But of course, something did happen.  And this time it was worse.  He had started working second shift, so when I knocked on his door at 7:30 in the morning, he had still been asleep.  Again, I apologized and gave him my insurance information, and thankfully, he was pretty calm.  But honestly, as I tell you this story, I can feel the shame rising up inside me once again—and this happened 25 years ago!

I don’t know why I feel so much shame about these backing up accidents, because I am in good company.  About a year later, a different neighbor—the person who lived next door to the man whose car I hit twice—was leaving for work and backed in to our car, which was parked on the street.  A few years after that, that house had changed hands, and the new person who bought it backed in to our car.  Keep in mind, we tried most of the time to just put both of our cars in the narrow driveway, and if we had to park on the street, we tried not to park where it seemed someone would easily hit us!  But despite all our strategery, the residents of Washington Avenue did their part to keep North Wales Auto Body in business!

I tell you this story because, no matter how old we are, we are people who still need to learn to say grace.  I don’t mean we need to memorize a prayer to say before we eat our meals.  Some people call that a blessing, the prayer you say before a meal, but we always called it “Saying Grace”.  And in my house, both growing up myself and when our kids were growing up, we always said the same prayer:  God is great, God is good, let us thank God for our food.  By his hands we all are fed; grant us, Lord, our daily bread.

Do you know that prayer?  That is how I said grace for most of my life. There’s nothing wrong with that.  But we need to learn to “say grace” in situations besides meals.  Last week Pastor Brad pointed out that most of us don’t rely on prayer for our daily bread.  We have the resources to buy all the food we need and then some.  So he rightly encouraged us to think about daily bread as not just physical food, but spiritual food.  There is a whole menu of spiritual practices we could engage in to help us get to know God better and feast on God’s love.

I thought that was a great sermon.  But I think Jesus knew that, no matter how good the sermon is, we might not seek spiritual daily bread unless something makes us realize how hungry we are.  And so Jesus followed up the line, “Give us this day our daily bread” with, “And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.”  The practice of forgiveness is so important to Jesus that he goes on to say that we will not be forgiven our sins if we don’t forgive others (Matthew 6:14-15).  For some people, getting enough food to eat is a matter of life and death.  Few people in our neck of the woods have to worry about literally starving to death.  But when it comes to spiritual bread, our ability—or inability—to forgive, that shows us just how hungry we really are. Learning to say grace is a matter of life and death for us!

And yet, even though learning to forgive is a matter of spiritual life and death, forgiveness is one of the most difficult subjects we ever have to talk about in church.  Ask any pastor, they will tell you that they have sat with many hurt people who are struggling to forgive because they have been sinned against.  It seems insensitive to tell people they have to forgive when, quite possibly, I cannot even begin to imagine the hell they have experienced.  But I also think we have a hard time talking about forgiveness because we ourselves are sinners.  Even though we are very happy to sing, “Amazing Grace” and name it as one of our all-time favorite hymns, there is a part to each of us that it still very reluctant to admit that we need grace.

At least, I know I am.  When I first wrote this sermon, earlier this week, I had a different story at the beginning.  A story about someone else’s mistake and their struggle to forgive themselves.  I told myself I was using that story because no one wants to come to church and hear the pastor talk about herself or himself every week!  But that wasn’t sitting right with me, and I felt God nudging me to tell you about my bad driving.  I would like to point out, though, in my defense, and knock on wood, I haven’t hit anything with my car since 2011, so I’ve gotten better.  Just don’t want you to be afraid to ride with me.  Pastor Brad told me my driving is a lot better than Pastor Bob’s…

Okay, I need to get back on track.  The point is, forgiving other people is not the only demanding aspect to forgiveness.  Forgiving ourselves isn’t easy, either!  Those car accidents were not sins—they were simply mistakes.  I had intended no ill-will toward my neighbor.  But afterwards, I struggled with ill-will toward myself.  I was having trouble saying grace to myself. Instead of enjoying God’s grace, and feeling good about doing the right thing and knocking on his door and making things right with my neighbor, I have been feeling shame.  Instead of God’s voice telling me I am a beloved child even if I dent the car, the voice that stuck inside my head was the man at the auto body shop.  “Geez lady, when are you going to learn to use your mirrors?”  

As I look back on it now, I think he needed to learn to say grace, too.  And I have a feeling there’s not a single person in this room who isn’t hungry.  We all need to learn to say grace to ourselves so we can then say it to others.

In our gospel lesson today, the servant who owed much to the king never learned to say grace.  He was forgiven his debt and set free to start a new.  We would think he would be so thankful for this second chance that he would have gladly forgiven the servant who owed him a little.  But even though the debt of money was wiped clean, but his soul was still hurting.  He was ashamed that he had amassed that much debt in the first place.  He was sorry he had embarrassed himself.  I think he felt like a failure for putting his family at risk. He was still a man in need of a savior.

And we are people in need of a savior, too.  It would be so nice if the world were populated by perfect people.  But that is not just wishful thinking, it’s actually a very harmful fantasy.  Jesus said it is the truth, not fantasy, that will set us free. When we pray The Lord’s Prayer, we can accept the truth of our individual and collective brokenness.  We all owe debts we could never begin to repay on our own, which is one of the reasons we call it the “good news” of the gospel.  God’s love for us is so great, we don’t need to earn it, or buy it, or negotiate for it. It’s just grace, freely given. Thanks be to God!

But it seems to me there is a shadow side at work in us, too.  If we are uncomfortable being regular human beings with foibles and limitations and bad driving records and at times a pretty lame batting average against the temptations pitched at us, the grace that is meant to free us instead makes us feel ashamed.  It makes us angry and defensive.  It can make us demanding and self-righteous.  The king granted grace to the servant, but instead of making him happy, it made him mean. He could not accept his own sinfulness for having gotten so far in debt in the first place, so he projected his judgment on to his colleague who owned him something.

People are made in God’s image, and therefore, we are all able to love.  But our ability to love ourselves and others is always limited by our unmet needs, by our brokenness, by our immaturity.  God loves us with a perfect love.  Roman Catholic priest Henri Nouwen calls this our “first love”.  But people can only love with a “second” love.  Even the people we love the most—our parents, our spouses, our children—they deserve our perfect love, but we do not have perfect love to give them. We don’t even have perfect love to give to ourselves.

That is why God sent Jesus to us:  to hand deliver God’s first love to the human race. Jesus said, “I no longer call you servants, now I call you friends.”  When is the last time you did something to deepen your friendship with God?  It is friendship with God that helps us become more forgiving.  It is receiving God’s unconditional love for ourselves allows us to offer it to others. This is why forgiveness has nothing to do with whether or not the offending person ever apologizes or changes. Forgiveness comes from having an encounter with God in our heart.

However, I must make this clear:  being required to forgive does NOT mean it is holy to tolerate abuse.  Forgiveness is like grease for our relationships—it lubricates things so we can live and work together productively and peacefully, in life-giving ways.  It is never meant to keep a person bound in a structure or relationship that is intent on snuffing out or diminishing life.  Forgive yes; allow yourself to be a victim, No! God does not want us to be separated from experiencing full and abundant life by our own sin—or someone else’s.  

At my first appointment, there were two sisters in the congregation who hadn’t spoken to each other in years.  Yet, even though the supposedly never spoke to each other, they had arranged a system so that they would never be in church together on the any given Sunday.  One or the other of them was usually present, but not both.  Even weirder was how, when I talked to a couple of the previous pastors, they noticed the same thing I did:  that every time the sermon was about forgiveness, neither of the sisters were in church!  

Can you imagine what a blessing it would have been to that family, and that congregation, if those sisters would have learned to say grace?  I imagine if you could interview those sisters, each one would say, “Well if my sister would apologize, I would forgive her.”  But forgiveness is a spiritual transaction that takes place in a person’s heart because they have encountered God’s grace.  It is not dependent upon the circumstances or attitude or contrition of the other person.  To be a Christian is to be a person who wears the name of Christ in the world.  That means we do in the world the things Jesus did—and Jesus’ very last act on earth was to forgive the people who crucified him. God’s forgiveness is so passionately offered to the world that we might sum up Christianity in one word:  grace.

So let’s learn to say grace.  All we have to do is go back to the very first words of the Lord’s Prayer:  Our Father. As we pray, we can take the entire weight of the world’s collective sin, “Our” sin, our brokenness, our poignant humanity—even my brokenness, my poignant humanity--and place it side by side with our Father.  A Father so merciful and loving, He sent us his Son.  Our Father.  That is how we learn to say grace.  Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who have sinned against us.  Amen.  

 Benediction:  Many of us grew up hearing that if we put our trust in Jesus and confess our sins and repent, God will forgive us.  But the reality is, we are not forgiven because we repent.  We are forgiven because we forgive.  Go in peace, and serve your Lord.  Amen.

[guitarpornography]

Versus Steam: Game of the Year Award 2016: #5

While the last cycle of consoles was largely dominated by cover based shooters and first person action ‘em ups, I’m not really sure if our current generation of games is being dominated by any one particular genre. Sure, there are trends everywhere. Sandboxes seem to rise up for seemingly no reason other than to be big, MOBAs seem to crop up more and more and survival crafting tends to slip into just about anything, but there’s always a balance to this, largely due in part to the rise of the indie market. I like games that are different and I like games that I find emotionally resonant, so it's nice when the limits of what can actually be are tested in such a way to make this possible, even if I can’t quite decide if this will be a continuing trend for the market. Our Versus Steam #6 Game of the Year Award for 2016 may have seen similar life in other games, but created something very much its own…

Developed by: Campo Santo

Published by: Campo Santo/ Panic (PC, XBox One, PS4)

I like walking simulators. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I really enjoyed both the Stanley Parable and Gone Home and I liked Dear Esther’s storytelling even if I wish it had something to do with player interaction rather than randomness. But as of right now, I would say that Firewatch tops my list as the best in the genre. Through and through, Firewatch is a game about experiencing what is happening in the world you inhabit and reflecting on the contrast presented between the idyllic and the dark. I’ll break this down into two easy to understand parts: the aesthetic design and the storytelling. Holy crap, Firewatch is a gorgeous game. I don’t know if I can immediately think of a game I found more gorgeous than Firewatch, with its setting of Shoshone National Forest presenting a breathtaking view of nature. Something about the color pallet choice makes everything seem so vibrant, with the game’s day and night cycle presenting a wonderful cinematography to the affair, as the world is one of blissful stillness. Throughout our treks, we make our way around the various vistas, seeing the intrusion of human life but never fully seeing it encroach upon the verdant tangles, as the mysterious air of the natural world is our most constant companion. In a great design choice, all humans we encounter along the way are only seen silhouetted at distance, making them feel like shades of something apart from the forest and allowing us to more strongly feel their presence as different from what should actually be there. Music and sound effects, though sparse, contribute along with this, largely making everything feel wistful and even at times pastoral, as if we’ve slipped away into a world apart from the modern one. But as I said, the key to this is the contrast it builds to the story and that’s where things get more complex…

Our protagonist Henry is a man on the run; not from any authority but rather the fact that his life is slipping away as his wife is being lost to Alzheimer’s disease. The chance to take the Firewatch is a chance to be alone from a world that is no longer kind to him and in turn, to forget his own demons for a while in solitude. However, Henry is not truly alone in the wilderness, as his direct supervisor Delilah is in contact with him regularly and soon their relationship blooms as both are willing to confront their own mistakes together. This would seem almost like a grand metaphor for the setting, the sense of rebirth that comes from nature and how experiencing it allowed Henry to center himself and rebuild his life. But that’s not exactly what ends up happening. I won’t spoil it for those of you who haven’t played it, but Firewatch is a story with a lot of dark underpinnings that go unexplained. While the natural world we experience is beautiful, the humans in it are not perfect, starting at being crass and littering and eventually running into much darker themes of tragedy and grief. There’s always a sense of us being kept in the dark, that we are now in an idyllic prison waiting for some shoe to drop even though we cannot fully expect what it will be. Henry and Delilah’s relationship is jovial and eventually caring, but it seems more tinged by need to have someone else rather than a serious want to be around another person, something made more obvious by their actual physical distance. Delilah seems to come almost unhinged at time, some sin tainting her talks with Henry and further contaminating the wilderness around them. The natural world is beautiful but the human world is extremely flawed, leaving us with a sense that no matter how isolated we try to become we can be both saved and damned by other people anyway.

That is not to say that the story is without a sense of poetry, as I genuinely came to care about Henry and Delilah. Voiced by Rich Sommer and Cissy Jones respectively, the pair really comes to life and feels about as real as any video game characters I can remember. Henry seems to have a bit of self-possession in his performance, but his constant need of acknowledgment and somewhat short temper show a man who is kind of desperate and Delilah comes off as both playful but I also want to say guarded. Neither is willing to be more than pleasant until it becomes apparent that these facades come from the same place. I really enjoyed the interplay between the too, the jokes and funny remarks that kind of stem from their growing closer, but for me, the best scene comes from them not really interacting. SPOILER ALERT but one night Henry receives a radio call from his wife Julia and the two are able to catch up a little and depending on player choice, can sort of spark the love over obligation of their situation. But it turns out that its not Julia on the line, but instead Delilah with a sleep addled Henry allowing this play out in his dreams. Its heartbreaking and a real moment of honest humanity for Delilah that she does not disabuse Henry of his illusion, seeming to understand his guilt and pain from being where he is. I love how much personality is on display for the pair and it made me genuinely more curious about various aspects of the story, something that has led me into a great deal of fan theories regarding it.

I suppose your mileage with Firewatch is going to be dependent on your appreciation of narrative over mechanic, but even that seems to have a bit of a chance at emergent gameplay. It’s my hope that Firewatch provides a benchmark for not just walking simulators as games, but also for maturity in narratives, as Firewatch is very much an adult story that doesn’t upon the cheap thrills of adulthood to cut its teeth. A beautiful sightseeing tour, stepping into the boots of Henry is a heavy experience to undertake but even as the darkness bears down upon us, there’s always a voice in the distance to guide us back.