#and robin every day tries to gather courage to speak to her but she always makes a fool of herself instead of saying hi

[lionydoorin]

ronance college/coffee shop au where robin works the opening shift at like 4:30 a.m. and always uses it as an opportunity to win some extra money and take a nap (cause who would get up that early to get a coffee right)

until a very, very pretty girl with a pile of books twice her size starts to come in at like 5 a.m. everyday and she's half in love half confused cause why the hell would anyone order a giant oat milk latte and study until the sun rises when she could just be back home sleeping

[river-bottom-nightmare]

zatanna said the word anchor point, and that's where she lost dick. anchor points and multiversal constants and universal stability. galaxies shattering into pieces behind his eyelids before swirling together tighter and more whole, before dick would inevitably wake, the lights from that goddamn recurring dream still flashing in his mind.

constantine was looking at him with sympathy, pity. dick wanted to wipe that look off his face with bleach. with acid. he normally wouldn't consider fighting john constantine, since he's always been able to sense the sheer power bubbling under the man's drunken and sloppy exterior. though, apparently, that ability to sense was what could possibly give him the edge in the fight he was imagining, but would never happen.

there were only a few people in the room, but someone would rip him off the man. maybe clark, whose features were painted with worry and concern. that, and the lights from the galaxies outside the watchtower windows, the eternity of the galaxy covering the entire room in a gentle wash that dick had been able to ignore for all of his life, excluding the past couple of hours. maybe diana, who was starting to look at dick with a bit of fear. not of him, but for him, and for everybody else. dick couldn't blame her. she had more than enough experience with powerful men who made themselves god. the only difference was that dick would rather let himself burn up from the flame that was inside of him before becoming whatever they said he was.

it's not about becoming, raven whispered in his mind. her presence was gentle, familiar. it took a certain length of self control for dick not to latch onto her, about the length of rope needed to make a noose. you already are. there are no new powers or abilities or anything that will happen to you. you always were a nexus being, and you always will be. it's just a part of you.

"just a part of him." just a part of him? like how wally's slowly failing heart had just been a part of him? or how jason's pit-induced fits of rage were just a part of him? or how cass' assassin training she fell back on no matter how hard she tried to override it was just a part of her?

bruce hadn't said anything. actually, zatanna had stopped talking, not that dick had been fully listening in the first place, and everyone was lost in their own quiet thoughts. but bruce's silence had been the most stomach-churning, the most horrific.

dick knew bruce didn't like metas. knew it because of the sighs he used to make due to the league's foolishness back when dick was robin, running a hand through dick's ruffled hair and telling him he was so glad you're not like them, dick, they're exhausting. he knew it because of bruce's fury every time someone powerful fought in gotham and destroyed the city, rubble on the ground as they went off, completely unconcerned of the damage they left behind. he knew it because of the extensive files in the batcomputer detailing each league-affiliated and known meta's weakness, or how their strength could be flipped like a playing card, until dick was almost convinced being a meta made one weaker. (according to bruce, it did.)

bruce didn't like metas. and dick wasn't a meta, but no one knew what he was anyway. no one but the magic users, whose vague explanations told them they weren't really sure what he was either.

"you're connected to the universe, dick," zatanna sighed. "the multiverse comes together in you. and as much as i don't like it, we need you."

all eyes were on him. dick was looking at his feet, but he could still feel them. that was one of his new "powers," right? knowledge of the multiverse? a gross misuse and bitter accusation, dick knew. but he couldn't get the fear out of his mind, and fear left unchecked grew fuzzy with mold until it disintegrated into anger.

"you need me?" dick said hoarsely. "the multiverse, what, comes together in me? you do realize what utter bullshit that sounds like?"

"i know it don't seem all that good, but trust me," constantine said. "it's a thing. it's real. you are one."

"you said these people are supposed to be beings of power," dick argued back. "so why aren't you a nexus being? or raven? or fucking ra's al ghul. i'm sure as hell not a being of power. i'm human."

"i suppose that's exactly what makes you one," diana murmured. "i have met many powerful men in my life. i've found the ones that i respected the most were the ones that were most in touch with their humanity."

this was crazy. this was crazy. dick felt like the particles that came together to make him were blowing away in confusion until he was one big cloud of unrecognizable light, before he was scattered in every direction. how the hell was he supposed to be one of the things that kept the universe together when he couldn't even keep his own damn self together?

avoiding bruce wasn't working. dick just felt like he was about to fray at the edges. so, gathering up his courage, dick turned to face the man and quietly, in a voice more delicate than china, said, "b?"

batman didn't look at him. batman didn't even look up. but batman did speak.

"alternate universe superman. he called you the multiversal constant. the one thing he could depend on."

out of the corner of his eye, dick could see clark nodding a little.

bruce continued. "you named yourself after a mythological figure who was known as the catalyst of change. or the great rebuilder. and kryptonians we've met have said how well you embody the role."

"it's...it's just a name, bruce."

"you, of all people, know it's not," clark said.

"so what am i supposed to do, huh?" dick whirled around. "fight this battle zee's recruiting me for that's entirely above my skill level. become some sort of, what did you say, universal anchor? i don't know the first thing about this shit, and i don't know what it'll do to me!"

"you're scared," bruce said, always willing to cut right to the chase with everyone but himself.

dick didn't answer.

"raven, establish a mental link between me and nightwing."

raven nodded, then with a flutter of her hands, dick felt a presence inside his head. it scared him to realize how easily he accepted it, how easily he had always accepted it. he never understood how unusual that was until now.

of course i'm scared, dick whispered into the mind link. i've gone my entire life knowing exactly who i was, what i could do, what i strive to be. and in the span of one day, that's all gone.

then what do you plan to do about it? bruce asked.

he said it so simply, so easily. like discovering something this monumental about himself was just another tricky case or difficult puzzle to solve. dick would have an easier time plucking each and every star in the galaxy and making a mosiac out of them.

raven's hood was lowered, but dick could still feel her eyes on him. constantine's features were still dripping in pity, zee looked imploring. diana was looking at him with hesitating acceptance, bruce was unreadable as always.

but clark. clark was looking at him with steady eyes and and a kind smile. he looked knowing, quietly vindicated. it was as if he'd known there was something...off about dick. something two hopscotches and a backbend away from "special," but close enough. something that had led to clark giving dick a piece of his people's legacy, and trusting him to fulfill it to the best of his ability.

clark wasn't scared of him at all. but clark couldn't make up for bruce.

"will you help?" zatanna asked.

everything inside dick was itching to say yes. jumping at the chance to help his friends, aching to be useful. it was a response he'd carefully cultivated years ago, and pushing it down was an almost physical ache.

but the stardust behind his eyes wasn't so easily forgotten. the hook behind his navel that seemed to drag him into the fabric of a universe that dick couldn't comprehend still dug into him. the world was spinning and the stars were turning and the earth was tumbling over itself, all of them in an effort to stop their twisting and turning and to right themselves once and for all. but dick wasn't moving. dick was completely, utterly still.

"i don't know," he said.

Dick Grayson Anniversary Week ‘21, Day 6: Universal Constant

"i don't know," the author says, because she truly has no idea what the fuck she just wrote. i started imagining nexus dick grayson and this just spilled out onto the page. it makes absolutely no sense, but there are some nice sentences in there that i don't want to get rid of, so hopefully yall can somewhat make sense of this ramen soup of a fic.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @bikoncon @catxsnow @pricetagofficial @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @dickgraysonweek

[silenceofthecookies]

Robin x reader(F): nerves

Here’s the fourth entry for @some-piece​’s sapphic challenge! This one is a little shorter than the others, but not less sweet. Enjoy! 

Word count: 782

Warnings: none!

You took a deep breath in hopes of suppressing your nerves. How many times had you tried now? How many times had you failed now? You didn’t know, you didn’t want to know either, already knowing the amount would be shamefully high. This time you were going to succeed for sure. You grabbed a book, excited your cabin and walked up to the deck, knowing your target would be there. And of course she was.

Robin sat on a chair under a parasol, reading a book. The wind played with her hair, making her seem even more beautiful than she already was. A light smile graced her lips as her eyes moved over the words on the page, clearly lost in the story. As she turned the page, her eyes looked up from her book and met yours. Her smile grew a little more as she gave you a closed-eyed smile and greeted you. You somewhat clumsily returned her greeting, still too taken in by her beauty. Her eyes turned back to her book, and you stood nailed to the ground for a few seconds longer before you could finally move.

You walked up to the table she was sitting at and sat down on the other chair, opposite of her. It was nothing new for the two of you to be reading together. Or, well, reading might not always be the best word. Sometimes you were reading, lost in the world of your book, but sometimes, like today, you would pretend to read, stealing glances over the edge of your book, admiring the beauty that was Nico Robin, trying to gather the courage to finally confess to her.

“Hey, Robin?” you finally spoke up. There was a short silence, probably Robin finishing her sentence, before she looked up at you from her book. “Yes, Y/N?” “I… was wondering if you’d like to go shopping with me again on the next island? You know, just a girls getaway?” “Sure, that sounds like fun.” Robin smiled at you again, and you could feel the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

You failed to say it yet again, but at least you had planned another day out with Robin. Pushing away the disappointment in yourself, you decided to focus on the book in your hands. You didn’t even feel disappointed at the outcome. As long as she didn’t invite Nami, that is. You did say it was a girls getaway. Why did you have to say that? Oh man, that was stupid. Why couldn’t you just ask her on a proper date? Or just say you wanted to spend time with her alone? She was so sweet, even if she didn’t return your feelings, you knew she saw you as a good friend and would likely indulge you.

As you were too absorbed in your own thoughts about the woman on the other side of the table, you didn’t notice her eyes lingered on your figure as you looked down at your book again. Her lips were curved up in a smile, knowing full well what just happened.

Robin noticed the nerves you got every time you talked to her. She noticed the amount of times you had been trying to ask her out. Watched you chicken out at the last second every time and make up silly excuses. She loved watching you do so. It was truly an endearing and amusing sight. Robin shifted her eyes back to her book once more, not wanting to be caught when you looked up again to steal glances at her. Maybe she should just let you know she was aware of your feelings and make it easier for you.

Just as Robin was about to open her mouth to let you know, Luffy ran onto the deck, chased by an angry Nami. Both you and Robin looked at them in surprise. The moment Luffy noticed you, he jumped behind your table to have something in between himself and Nami.

“Y/N! Robin! Help me out here!” Luffy pleaded. “Luffy!” Nami yelled angrily as she approached the table. You could almost see the steam coming out of her ears as she started chewing out Luffy for stealing oranges from her trees.

You and Robin shared a laugh and shrugged, letting the two sort it out themselves. Robin did not try to speak up about your feelings after that. You were putting in all that effort to try to confess to her, and the day you’d actually manage to do that, her affections would be your reward. Until then, she’d just enjoy watching you get flustered every time you’d try to confess, pretending she was unaware of your feelings.

[misstring]

The Secret I Almost Uncovered (Tim Drake x Reader)

Reader Gender: There is no mention of any gender.

Warnings: Nothing particular that stands out.

Synopsis: Security guards at museums working graveyard shifts have one of the most reports to do with broken glass, burglaries, and vigilantes falling through the glass roof.

Other notes: Reader is working as a security guard and at a cafe.

Working at a museum is like working in another world, all of the tools, mummies, paintings, and other priceless artifacts take you back into time. Working a graveyard shift as a security guard in a museum that is located in the heart of Gotham is like working with electrons. An electron can be anywhere at any point of time, likewise, at any moment, lights can flash by the windows, a window can crack, or even, on occasion, a vigilante, not Batman, will fall through the ceiling.

Tonight, it was a Ti--I mean-- Drake that fell through the ceiling. At least I think it is. All I see is brown and going from process of elimination, Batman--dark blue or black--, Nightwing--in Bludhaven but otherwise blue, very blue--, Red Hood--red and gray, generally--, and the little guy, Robin,--bright red and green, to the point you can see him from across the city if you are high up enough-- it is. There is also the fact that he stayed on the floor for 15 minutes before he actually got up and took a deep breath in and sighed.

I brought over a first-aid kit but by the time I managed to gather up the courage to speak to him, he vanished leaving a note reading 'Sorry, will have a check sent to fix it later'

I mean, sure. They all did that and who sent the check? Batman? No. Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne. Since when did they have a connection with him? Is it part of the job? There were times when the Waynes would donate large sums of money to help out organizations and there were stories of when someone from that family helps out an average citizen in Gotham, struggling to make a living.

Ah, Gotham. I call it the City of Perpetual Darkness. It can be night and it'll be dark, during the day when the sun is shining down as bright as it can, the pollution is enough to darken the sky. People cough, left, right, and center, there is crime happening behind every building, in alleyways, and, ever since Batman showed up, a crazy lunatic rallied up a bunch of people and used the symbol of fun and laughter for fear and terror--an author wrote a horror story of one in the sewers, luring kids in--haven’t read it, heard it was good.

I finished brushing up the shattered glass, which scattered the floor. After taping the location off and writing the report, I ended my shift as the next guy started. I nod, my eyes already partially closing as I haven't been able to sleep with the mayhem the past couple of days. He sighs out as he reads my report. I sign out and leave.

Gotham is never safe for anyone. You can be Oswald Cobblepot and still be in danger. Last I know, someone saw him fighting Red Hood. That was a while ago, though. See, there's a danger for everyone, yet no one wants to leave. It has this addictive aura where once you are hooked, the symptoms of leaving are withdrawing into oneself, looking off into the distance towards Gotham City for extended periods of time, and feeling like a part of your soul is missing.

I look up. People scream all the time, but this one was different. It was not the normal scream of fear or joy, rather a yell of frustration. I'm intrigued. Watching people in pain? Not my thing. Trying to help out someone in trouble? Last time I did that, I was sent to the hospital for several weeks and undergone several surgeries. I am perfectly healthy now and I do not want to ruin that streak. Do I dare, though, a quick glance as to the source of this cry?

The alleyway comes up. I dare, more than a quick glance.

Brown, that almost blended in with the dirt but the shine of the golden stripes gave him away. I stay silent and watch as he taps the brick wall and asks "Why?" He looks up again and aims a gun towards the sky. A grappling hook shoots out of the open end, into the sky and grabs onto the top of the building. He pulls on it and it falls off the building. He falls on his back and sighs. He moves his hand towards his ear and says "Will be late, taking a nap," before falling asleep in the middle of Gotham.

Where are his parents?!

A small figure scales down the building and lands next to Drake. He looks down, slaps Drake a bit and says, "Drake, get up," rather loud and it echoes off the wall. The little figure looks at me. "What do you want? I will kill you if you take another step towards us."

I look around me, no one. Who is he talking to? Oh, wait. He's talking to me!

"Yes, I am talking to you, " he had a sword out in front of him. "Stop looking around like a bumbling idiot."

Okay, he's a rude one.

Before I can answer, Drake gets up and stops the little one from charging at me. He looks at me with recognition and smiles, “You’re that security guard from the glass-roofed museum. Thank you for always bringing us the first aid kit when we fall through the roof.”

The little one exclaims something, but I do not listen; my phone is ringing. I answer my phone and my boss yelled at me, asking where I was. I glance at the time, I ran.

I got into the shop 10 minutes later than usual, but I managed to sneak in a small nap before starting my shift. One of my co-workers had taken cover for an hour into my shift and I started later than usual. He hands me a macchiato with four shots of espresso, my favorite. I thank him and I clock in. It was still dark outside, a couple of hours before anyone in the city would even start to trickle in.

“Hello, what would you like today?” I say, as a small figure comes to the front. I recognized him, Robin, or the little one.

He looks at the board and then at me, “May I have a--” his face showed surprise before it was replaced by his normal scowl, “Oh, it’s you.”

I nod.

He just sighs and asks, “May I bring in Drake so he can rest in the corner?”

I looked to the back, no one was there. Everyone left and I was the only one in the store, aside from the little one. “Yes.”

Relief spreads through his otherwise tense expression. He goes outside and half carries a partially unconscious man. “Come on, Drake,” he whispers out, trying to carry the taller man, but only succeeding in keeping him upright and dragging across the floor. I hurry over and help him onto a bench, bringing him a blanket I kept in my locker for my naps.

His head turns towards Robin and he asks, “You promised to get me coffee.”

Robin clicks his tongue and scowls, “Tell me that when you slept for more than 20 minutes per night. I do not care if your friends are in danger, or if you have to solve this case to save hundreds. If you cannot take care of yourself, you cannot take care of anyone else.”

“Dami,” He whispers out before falling asleep.

He turns towards me and apologizes for the inconvenience. I offer him a cup of hot chocolate and he deepens his scowl. “I am not a child.”

“I never said you were,” I say, fixing myself a cup of hot chocolate alongside the other one. I place the cup in front of him and as I drink my drink at the front. No one really cared except for the owner, who was not in at the moment.

Police sirens whiz by and Robin stands up, “Someone will be back for him,” he says, leaving the café through the front door.

I collect the two empty cups. He may act like an adult but he still had his childlike innocence within him, minuscule, but prevailing. What an interesting turn of events.

I wash the dishes and as I set the cups on the drying rack to dry, Tim-- I mean-- Drake sits up and shouts, “Damian!” He looks around with his eyes wide as he realized two things: 1. He wasn’t in his safe house or wherever he goes after the vigilante work, and 2. He just gave away Robin’s secret identity. Or maybe more, but I wouldn’t know.

“Good to see that you are alive. Robin said someone would be here for you soon,” I say, picking up my Wonder Woman blanket from the floor--she is a great person, Princess Diana, if you ever get the chance to meet and talk with her.

“I-- Where am I?” he asks me.

I smile and point to the top of the menu which had the store name.

“Who are you?” he asks me, looking intently at my face.

“I can ask the same for you, Timothy Drake-Wayne. You aren’t what you show yourself to be.”

“Actually,” he says without missing a beat, “My name is Drake because Tim Drake gave me my name. He insisted that I use Drake. What am I, a duck?”

I burst out laughing. “What? Is your name Alvin, or something silly like that?”

He looks at me with seriousness coated over his face. “How did you know?”

How did I know? How did I know what? His name? “It was a random guess,” I still my laughter.

He sighs and as sirens whiz by in the opposite direction, he says, “Well, I’ve got to go. Hope business is well,” He leaves through the door calling out, “Thank you for letting me take a nap here.”

“Wait!” I call out behind him, but it was too late.

Gotham has many secrets. Some are buried with people, others buried through lies. I tried to uncover them. The mystery shrouding the vigilantes; I was so close to uncovering one, so close to blowing out the cloud from my vision before my one chance slipped through my fingers.

Why do I still love this city?

---Fin.

Thank you for reading! This is also published on wattpad and ao3.

[prissyhalliwell]

Summary: Mr. Gold has been working for the dinner theatre company “The Enchanted Forest” for years, performing the same boring show every weekend. Nothing has ever changed, until Belle French joins the cast to play its princess.

~ Winner of Best Mr. Gold in the 2016 TEA Awards ~  Read on AO3

Chapter One I Chapter Two I Chapter Three I Chapter Four I Chapter Five I Chapter Six I Chapter Seven I Chapter Eight I Chapter Nine I Chapter Ten I  

Chapter Summary: An emergency during the show forces Belle and Gold to put their improvisation skills to the test. 

Chapter Eleven

The kissing was driving him nuts.

Gold glared as Jefferson and Belle exchanged a kiss onstage, receiving cheers and whistles from the crowd.

It was a quick kiss, barely a peck on the lips. But that didn’t stop Gold from wanting to rip the other man’s head off.

The kiss wasn’t anything new. It had always been part of the show. As someone who had been acting for a long time, he knew it was just part of the scene. It didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Of course, Regina had met Robin that way, but that was an outlier. Just because Belle was smiling didn’t mean she had personally enjoyed that kiss anymore than all the others she’d exchanged with every other good-looking man in the cast.

Or at least, that’s what he reminded himself for the dozenth time, as he continued to glare daggers at Jefferson’s back.

It had only been the last couple weeks that it had started to bother him that Belle regularly kissed some of his coworkers. As the villain of the show, Gold knew he would never be on the receiving end of one of those kisses.

In fact, it was his death that led to the kiss each evening. After defeating him on the battlefield, the triumphant knight would meet the princess onstage, telling her of his success and proclaiming that it had all been done out of love for his kingdom and his princess.

The king would appear afterwards, congratulating the knight on his victory and giving his blessing for the two to marry. The princess and knight would exchange a kiss and the show would end, the cast gathering onstage a few minutes later for their curtain call.

It was all fairy straightforward, even if the timing leading up to it was a bit tricky. Once Gold’s character was defeated on the arena floor, the lights would drop and he, the knight, and the knight’s squire, Henry, would quickly exit through a tunnel that led backstage. While he and Henry would take the horses back to the stables, the knight would dash up the backstage stairs in order to make his appearance on the stage moments later.

The stable hands were waiting at the end of the tunnel, so Gold was always back by the time the kiss took place. In the past, he’d always taken those few minutes to relax before curtain call. But for some reason, he’d begun watching the end of the show recently, for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely.

He pushed away the annoying voice in his head that told him exactly why he was upset. It also reminded him that if he wasn’t so stubborn, he could easily be kissing Belle offstage any time he wanted.

Gold grit his teeth and turned away from the stage. He knew he was being irrational, but it was getting harder and harder to listen to logic these days.

The truth was he wanted Belle. He wanted her so much it drove him half mad some days.

She had brought new energy into the theatre, breathing fresh life into his world. Her presence had made the same old routine exciting and fresh again. Playing opposite her was exhilarating.

Even offstage, he liked nothing better than her company. She was witty and clever and beautiful and…young. While he’d been aware of the age gap between them, it had taken seeing her yearbook photograph for it to truly sink in.

And sink in it had. It had lodged itself deep in his brain, wedged in among all the other insecurities he’d had for decades.

Despite what Belle and probably half the cast believed, he wasn’t ignorant of her interest in him. However, he also knew that any feelings she might have for him were based off an idealized version of himself that he could never measure up to.

He wasn’t young or adventurous. He tripped over his words more times than he could count, especially around Belle. The man she actually liked was the charismatic chancellor who had inspired her to act. He was just…Gold.

If they did get together, she’d see that soon enough. Milah had certainly wasted no time in moving on to greener pastures once she’d realized he wasn’t what she’d wanted. While he had no fear that Belle would cheat on him as Milah had, the eventual outcome would be no different. Belle would realize her mistake and she would leave him. If that happened, he knew he wouldn’t have the courage to continue working with her every day, knowing he hadn’t been enough for her.

No, it was better to keep things as they were. Belle’s infatuation would eventually wain and she’d find someone more worth her while.

As long as it wasn’t Jefferson, he thought grumpily. Gold could endure a lot, but even he had his limits.

“Speaking of,” he thought moodily as he saw Regina walking towards him, a familiar gleam in her eyes that set alarm bells off in his head.

He held his hands up. “Whatever it is you’ve come to taunt me about, I’m not in the mood.”

Regina pretended to look offended. “When have I ever…” She trailed off, unable to suppress a grin. “Oh alright, guilty as charged. But you can hardly blame me for trying to have a little fun.” She gestured to her very large belly. “There’s only so much trouble I can get up to right now.”

“Counting down the days?” Gold asked.

She groaned. “Feels more like years, but yes.” She nodded towards the stage. “Are they almost done?”

“Just a few more minutes,” he said, his attention once again drawn back to Belle.

Regina followed his gaze. Noticing her interest, Gold quickly dropped his eyes.

Seeing the smile on her face, he realized he hadn’t been fast enough.

“So, what’s going on with you and the princess these days?”

He cleared his throat. “Nothing. We’re just friends, as you well know.”

Regina let out a bark of laughter. “For a smart man, you can be incredibly stupid sometimes. If it was any more obvious how you feel about her, it would be tattooed on your forehead.” She pointed towards Belle. “And you’d have to be blind to miss the way she looks at you.”

He frowned. “Looks at me?”

“Oh come now, Gold. Even you’re not that dense.” Regina caught his eye and her smirk fell. “Oh god, you’re really that dense, aren’t you?”

He shook his head. “Sometimes I wish I were.”

She frowned, and Gold sighed, realizing he’d have to explain.

“You’ve know the type of person I am, Regina.” He gestured helplessly at himself.  “How could I possibly be enough for her?”

Regina raised her eyebrows. “Gold, that girl worships you like the sun shines out your ass!”

He made an inarticulate growl. “That’s just it! She thinks I’m some sort of dashing knight who always sweeps in and saves the day.”

Regina snorted. “I don’t think she’s that delusional.” Her expression softened a moment later. “I don’t think Belle is under any illusions about you, Gold. She likes the real you, bumbling idiot that you are.” She gave his arm a quick squeeze. “Now you just have to see if you can accept yourself or not.”

He cleared his throat, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the entire conversation. “When did you get so wise?”

“Apparently it comes with being a mother.” Regina placed a protective hand on her stomach. “Or at least, I hope it does.”

“You’ll do great,” he said, his voice a bit thick. “You’ve always taken care of me, after all.”

Regina waved off his comment, but he could see how much it pleased her. “Well, you’re just an overgrown baby, so it’s not - “ She paused, clutching her stomach and wincing. “Speaking of babies…”

Gold’s eyes grew wide. “Is it coming? What should I do?” He racked his brain for any memory of what people in the movies did in this kind of situation. “Boiling water and towels, right?”

Regina just stared at him. “I’m fine, moron. I’m not due for another two weeks.” She gave him a level look. “But seriously, if I do go into labor, will you do me a favor?”

Gold nodded. “Anything.”

“Run in the opposite direction.”  

The cue for the curtain call played, and he was saved from having to reply. He gratefully ran off, leaving Regina to berate his intelligence to herself.

The next few hours flew by, letting Gold push his conversation with Regina to the back of his mind. With two shows on Sundays, there was very little time between when the matinee’s audience left and the evening crowd arrived.

There was always the danger of running through the second show on autopilot, but Gold always tried to give it his best.

Even so, he was glad to be finished with the fight that night. As experienced as he was with the routine, it was still physically challenging to go through twice in one day.

He, Henry, and Robin had just stepped offstage and into the tunnel with the horses when their stage manager, Isaac, ran up to them in a panic.

“Regina’s in labor!” he hissed, careful to keep his voice down that close to the stands. “Her water broke backstage!”

Robin stood in shock for a moment before leaping into action. He tossed his sword to Henry and took off down the tunnel, going the opposite direction of the stage where he was due to appear at any moment.

“Wait!” Isaac cried helplessly, taking off after Robin, no doubt hoping to convince him to finish the final scene before going to his wife’s side.  

Gold and Henry turned to stare at one other.

“How do you feel about playing a knight?” Gold asked.

Henry paled slightly, clutching the reins of Robin’s horse, Arrow. “I think I’d rather stick to the horses, if that’s alright.”

Gold sighed. He couldn’t really blame the kid. There wasn’t time to come up with any kind of plan. In less than a minute, Belle would be stuck on stage talking to herself.

He handed Ogre’s reins to Henry. “Looks like I’m about to make a miraculous recovery.”

Without waiting for a response, he raced down the tunnel and towards the stairs that would take him up to the stage.

He had some improvisation to do.

Reaching the entrance, he took a few deep breaths, not wanting to rush onstage out of breath. He still wasn’t exactly sure how they were going to pull this off, but he hoped Belle would be up for the challenge.

After all, wasn’t this what they had been asking for a chance to do?

In a moment of inspiration, he grabbed a cane off the wall and stumbled onto the stage, favoring one leg heavily as he dragged the other behind him, leaning on the cane for support.

Belle’s mouth fell open at the sight of him. After a moment’s pause, she rushed forward. “You’re alive?”

“Of course!” He looked out at the crowd, giving them a toothy grin. “It was only a flesh wound.”

That got a laugh out of the audience, as he had predicted. If he could keep them laughing, perhaps they wouldn’t notice or care that the end of the show made no sense whatsoever.

“Where is my brave knight?” Belle asked, still looking at him like he was completely insane.

“You mean, him?” Gold waved his hand dismissively at the field below. “He beat me in our sword fight, but I persevered in the end. My hidden dagger made quick work of him.”

“Your hidden dagger?”

“Yes, it is extremely efficient at getting the job done,” Gold said proudly. “And uh, very pointy.”

Belle’s mouth trembled, but she managed to keep a straight face. Her gaze flicked down to his trousers. “It’s amazing that you manage to conceal it so well.”

Before he could reply, she turned away. “However, that does not excuse your conduct here today. You have betrayed our kingdom. What possible excuse could you have for doing something so vile?”

He hesitated. What possible motivation could the chancellor have – apart from the obvious need for power – that the audience would believe? They needed to wrap up the scene so they could finish the show, but they couldn’t do that without giving the crowd some kind of resolution, perhaps even a happy ending, if possible.

At this point though, he wasn’t picky. He’d settle for any ending, as long as it worked.

He cleared his throat, letting his real anxiety show for the audience. “I didn’t do it for love of my kingdom, princess.”

She snorted. “That much is obvious.”

“But I did do it for love.”

Belle spun to look at him, actual surprise on her face. She didn’t know where he was going with this scene, not that he really knew too well either. He only hoped she’d catch on soon.

Otherwise, they were in real trouble.

“I did it for love of my princess.” He took a couple steps closer, drawing on his real feelings for her as he spoke.

Belle looked stunned. “For – for me?”

He nodded, walking up to her until they were only inches apart. “I couldn’t stand to see one of those worthless knights win your heart. I thought if I could offer you an empire to rule over, you might find me worthy enough.”

Belle’s smile was so brilliant, he almost couldn’t believe it was fake. “Silly chancellor. Don’t you know you’ve always been enough for me?”

“I - I have?” he stuttered.

She laughed softly, putting her hand in his and squeezing gently. “Yes. There’s never been anyone but - ”

Leopold burst onto the stage, brandishing his sword. “Stop right there, ruffian!’

Gold clutched at Belle’s hand, barely stopping himself from groaning at the interruption. They were so close to finishing the scene. If Leopold messed this up, he was going to kill him.

“Father,” Belle scolded, “put that thing away before you put someone’s eye out. Especially your own.” She smirked, no doubt remembering the practice where Leopold had nearly done just that.

“But daughter, this man is a traitor! He just attacked one of our knights.”

“Killed,” Gold corrected. “I killed one of your knights.”

Leopold gestured at him helplessly. “See?”

Belle rolled her eyes. Gold couldn’t tell if it was an act or if she was just as impatient as he was to finish the scene.

“Father, the Chancellor has united all of our enemies against us. He’s defeated our best knight and now has control of the city. I think a marriage between him and myself would be most prudent at this moment, don’t you?”

When Leopold looked at her in confusion, Belle hissed, “Give us your blessing!”

The audience laughed, prompting Leopold into action. He gave them the standard blessing he recited every show and held their joined hands up in the air for the crowd’s approval.

The crowd leapt to its feet, cheering and clapping louder than Gold could ever remember hearing. In all his years at the theatre, he didn’t think he’d ever seen such enthusiasm from the audience.

It wasn’t until the lights went down a short time later that he finally let himself relax, taking in a deep breath.

Belle sagged against him and they exchanged relieved looks.

“That was crazy,” she mouthed silently.

He smiled. “I know.’

Belle smiled tiredly before resting her head on his shoulder. He held her close, laying his head against hers.

Whatever fallout would come from their little performance, they would face it together, knowing they had tried their best.

The rest of the cast joined them onstage. As the lights came up, the audience began to shout and clap again, their excitement energizing Gold all over again. He looked at Belle who returned his smile with equal delight.

Perhaps they hadn’t done so bad, after all.

Author's Note: Shout out to @rumple-belle for suggesting dagger innuendos late last night when my brain broke.

[i--gnis]

@i-nsubordination// (cont. from here)

     While Robin wishes nothing more than to share the full extent of his crush with his dear mother, her inquiries about actually confessing how he feels and if the dancer feels the same cause for the boy’s heart to skip a beat, and for his pale features to dust a bright shade of pink. Telling someone he trusts about this little love affair of his is one thing, but actually gathering up the nerves and courage to tell Olivia how he feels is another thing entirely. Truth be told, the tactician had thought about telling the pink-haired dancer how he feels, but every single time had been shot down by his own fear of rejection--what she did not feel the same? What if she found such boldness not brave, but instead unsettling? He cannot tell if the other shares his feelings--the dancer is a terribly shy and timid person, so telling her usual timidness from any signs of a crush is beyond his capabilities. He can at least say he believes the dancer enjoys his company, and that they have built up a certain level of trust, but the thought of scaring her away by throwing in a romance she may or may not want is too much for the boy to handle. But perhaps that is why he chose to speak with his mother about this topic--it has been eating away at him as of late, and he believes the older woman will know what to do. She always seems to know what is best.

     After a fairly long pause, the young man manages to snap himself back to reality. but not without shooting his dear mother a somewhat wide-eyed, uncertain look. He does not intend to lie to his mother, but will she be upset with him if she knows he does not think he can confess to the other how he feels? At least, not right now? She did say how highly she thought of Olivia...Gods, how he hates that his nerves make the situation seem thousands of times worse than it actually is.

   “...I...I don’t think I can. I don’t know if she feels the same, and I’m afraid of scaring her off if she knows I feel more deeply for her than she does for me. I have tried to drop hints, but...I don’t think that helped. But I’m also afraid of waiting too long to say anything...Oh, mother, I don’t know what to do,”

    A troubled frown then forms on the boy’s lips, followed by a small sigh. Perhaps he has just never been good with affairs like this before, but honestly it seems a little ridiculous to him how difficult he finds it to just tell a girl that he loves her. He is a tactician and soldier in an army, for gods’ sake--why is this so hard? Shaking his head slightly, he gently squeezes his mother’s hands before continuing on.

   “...But I know I love her. Ever since I saw her for the first time--its like my heart stopped beating. She smiles or laughs, and I forget how to breath, and its like all that matters at that moment is how happy she is. I’ve been spending a lot of my free time with her...Talking with her, getting to know her. And when I’m away from her, I...I miss her? But I suppose that’s normal...Isn’t it?”

   “I tried to hold her hand the other day, but copped out the last second. When she asked what I was doing, I just lied and said I was swatting away some flies...If I can’t even hold her hand, then how can I ever hope to tell her how I feel?”

[miloswanders]

When I was a kid -- say, between the ages of 4 and 10 -- my mother would spend her Saturday afternoons ironing in the living room. Since she has always found this particular task to be extraordinarily tedious, she would pick a movie out of her rather large collection of VHS cassettes and keep it as background entertainment while she went about her chores. 

After a while, out of sheer curiosity, I would splay out on the sofa and watch whatever movie she had selected for the day, regardless of the rating. Since I was the one who, at 7 years old, had forced my mother to sit through Critters (carnivorous aliens terrorizing a rural American town... don’t even ask), she wasn’t too concerned about my young mind suffering any irreparable trauma at this point. 

Which brings me to the following: I’ve been feeling nostalgic, as of late, and have to find new ways to procrastinate doing all the things that I should be doing right now; thus, I’ve decided to present you with a List of Films That Were Meaningful During My Childhood, in no particular order.

Enjoy!

The Fly (1986). Of course, the first one has to be a horror film, and a great classic at that! The ambitious scientist, the tragic love story, the terrifying metamorphosis... I’m pretty sure I couldn’t shut up about it for the next week or so. 

Beetlejuice (1988). Another classic, which I am proud to say I personally selected from my mother’s collection. It’s been years since I last watched it, so I only remember bits and pieces of it, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t even remotely appropriate for a six-year-old. But! there were ghosts involved, and at the time that was the magic word to spark my interest.

In & Out (1997). This one was my introduction to LGBT media and themes. Being mostly satirical in its intent, it has to be taken with a grain of salt; but I’d laugh my head off every time we watched it, as my mother explained all the stereotypes they were making fun of. After the first viewing, I distinctly remember asking: “What does “lesbian” mean?”, and her answering: “Same as “gay”, but for women”. I thought it was a really cool word. 

Mrs. Doubtfire (1993). This one... this one is special. I already knew Robin Williams from Jumanji, but, of all the roles he has played, this is the one that really stole my heart. My family was sort of falling apart when I first watched it, so it did a lot more than strike a chord -- it made me consider that maybe, just maybe, even if things were going to change drastically in my life, everything would work out all the same. A divorce didn’t have to be such a terrible ordeal, because there were a lot of different ways to remain committed to one another, and “family” didn’t mean the same thing to everyone. So, yeah... Thanks, Robin <3

American Beauty (1999). Picture this: it’s almost midnight, I’m bored out of my mind and should be going to sleep, but I’ve decided to stay up and see what’s on TV at this hour. I come across the first sequence of this film: girl speaking into the camera, creepy conversation with unseen interlocutor, then cut to the voiceover and the aerial view of the gloomy suburbs. My mother found me glued to the screen just as the “rose petals” scene was playing. She asked what I was watching, and I was like: “Uhm... American Beauty, I think it’s called”; she stared at the TV, verified her suspicion and went: “It’s late. I have the VHS, you can watch it tomorrow”. And I did. If anyone ever wonders how I got into the suburban-gothic genre, blame Kevin Spacey. 

The Color Purple (1985). The film that introduced me to Whoopi Goldberg. I had never heard of her before, and I remember repeating her name over and over to make sure I was saying it correctly. I doubt I’d even bothered to ask, let alone memorize the name of any actor before, but with her it was love at first sight. A few months later, I found a radio programme where the host would read “literary classics”, one or two chapters per episode; sure enough, Alice Walker’s novel was on their list. I listened to the whole thing. And, as I did, I guess I thought a lot about the word “lesbian”.

The Miracle Worker (1962). The autobiography of Helen Keller and Anne Sullivan. To this day, I cry at the end. Anne Bancroft was amazing. Also, possibly the first black-and-white movie I ever watched all the way through... and wanted to rewatch.  

The Elephant Man (1980). David Lynch’s debut film; it completely changed how I thought of “monsters”. It was a milestone in my growth as both human being and horror fan, precisely because there was nothing “scary” about Joseph Merrick, at all. It filled me with a sadness the depth of which I still find difficult to convey. Also... Anne Bancroft. Again. 

Divorzio all’italiana (1961). A film about infidelity, social hypocrisy and honor killings in Southern Italy. Not exactly kids material, but it’s not like anyone gave a damn. It’s the main reason why I laugh so hard and hysterically when people claim that misogyny concerns almost exclusively non-Western cultures. And by “laugh” I mean “scream into the void”. 

The House of the Spirits (1993). Saw the movie before I read the book. Five minutes in and I was enraptured. It may or may not have been the source of my fascination with magical realism and historical novels in general. I was missing out on a great deal of context, in order to fully understand the more “political” parts of the story, but over the years I did learn a thing or two thanks to Clara, Blanca and Alba. And yes, Clara was played by Meryl Streep, but I did not care to learn the actress’ name back then.

Stephen King’s IT (1990). Since I’ve started the list with the horror genre, why not have another one? The TV film that exacerbated my fear of clowns to near-pathological levels. It (both the film and the character) scared me so much that I could never bring myself to re-watch it. Instead, by the time I reached the 9th grade I’d gathered the courage to read the novel. “IT” and “Stand by Me” were my gateway into Stephen King’s fictional universe, although the former was branded so deeply into my subconscious that the mere mention of that damned clown used to give me chills. Surprisingly, I have recently convinced myself to watch short clips from the film, only to discover that I now like Pennywise as a character. I mean, that’s still Tim Curry beneath the makeup! 

The Exorcist (1973). Another classic. 9-year-old me was obsessed! I honestly don’t know how many times I re-watched it, but I can assure you they amounted to A LOT. I also tried to convince a dear friend of mine to watch it with me, once, but she freaked out halfway through, leaving me rather disappointed. 

So, there you have them: the highlights of my youth. 

And yes, before you ask, I did also watch cartoons like a normal kid. 

[robinhoodrevisited]

Triumphant Return

Nottingham Town. (All is quiet and the streets littered with dead bodies. At the castle, the few remaining castle guards stand their posts as the Sheriff walks down the main steps. The sound of hoofbeats can be heard approaching as a triumphant Prince John canters through the town, beaming. As the Prince enters the courtyard through the now raised portcullis, the Sheriff spreads his arms wide in welcome.) Sheriff: "Our saviour has returned!" Prince John: (Smiles brightly:) "My dearest Vaisey. (Dismounts his horse:) How could I ever have doubted you?" Sheriff: "Not at all, Sire. I only apologise that it took so long to accomplish." Prince John: (Playfully pokes the Sheriff on the chest:) "Glorious things happen to those who wait!" Sheriff: (Smiles:) "Indeed, sire." Prince John: (Looks back towards the town:) "Well, it looks like you've had fun?" Sheriff: "Some minor losses, I shall have to replenish the castle guards." Prince John: "No need, no need. I'm arranging for a permanent regiment from my own personal guard to stand a post here in Nottingham. (Turns back to Vaisey:) It is of course going to be England's new seat of power under my rule." Sheriff: (Bows slightly:) "Most gracious of you, sire." Prince John: "Nonsense. After what you've done for your country and your King, it's the very least I can do. Now tell me, is there anyone I should know about amongst the dead?" Sheriff: (Stands tall:) "Gisborne, killed him with my own hand." Prince John: "Excellent. And Hood? Also by your own hand?" Sheriff: "Ah, as much as I would like to claim that scalp... (The Prince's expression sours slightly:) I'm afraid that honour went to Lady Isabella." Prince John: (Brightens again:) "Really? By her own hand? (The Sheriff nods:) Wonderful! Where is the delightful girl, I must speak with her immediately!" Sheriff: (Turns slightly:) "Right this way, your highness." (The Prince turns at the sound of his soldiers arrival then heads into the castle. The Sheriff also takes in the mass of men arriving on horseback before joining the Prince inside.)

Sherwood Forest. (Sat reclined in the hollow of an old tree, Robin smiles up at Marian who cannot help but return it with one of her own.) Djaq: (Standing up:) "Remarkable. You can see the poison receding already." (Nyko, who is knelt beside Robin starts packing away his medical kit.) Nyko: (Gruffly:) "Your friend was lucky. The poisons in my collection are not to be trifled with." Robin: "Thank you again, Nyko. Without you I'd-" Nyko: "You'd be dead now. I have no doubt." (Marian and Robin exchange looks.) Marian: (Brightly:) "We're just lucky you were carrying the correct antidote." Nyko: "Luck has nothing to do with it. I always have every cure, remedy and antidote with me at all times." Djaq: "Not only that, but Nyko is immune to all the poisons in his collection." Robin: (Curious:) "How is that possible?" Nyko: "Courage and patience." (Nyko picks up his medical kit and walks away. Robin barely has time to brace himself before Marian throws herself on top of him. Djaq rolls her eyes and turns away from the jubilant couple.) Across the Way. (Gisborne grimaces as he tries to find a comfortable position in which to stand. Octavia observes him before speaking.) Octavia: "So we're just supposed to trust you now, is that it?" Gisborne: (Looks to her:) "You may think what you like, your Commander trusted me to guard the Princess for her." Octavia: "Lexa hasn't been my Commander since she banished Lincoln and put a kill order on his head. (Looks away:) Not that it matters now." Gisborne: "I'm sorry." Octavia: "What do you care?" Gisborne: "I don't I... (Bites his tongue, sighs and takes a beat:) I just know what it's like to lose someone you care about. To witness their last breath and have them die in your arms." Octavia: (Nods:) "The Gisborne I'd heard of cared only for himself and for power." Gisborne: "Love changes a person. Not just the love you feel for someone but the love they have for you." Octavia: "So you've gone soft. (Points to his wound:) How else would the Sheriff have got the drop on you unless you were weak?" Gisborne: "Softness and weakness are two different things. (Octavia scoffs:) The day I joined Robin's gang I remember seeing you and Lincoln together. That night I asked Marian about you both. She said that you were looking for a fresh start, a chance for a peaceful life." Octavia: "Yeah, well (Looking away:) as you said: Love changes a person." (She walks away leaving Gisborne alone with his thoughts.)

Deeper Into The Woods. (Indra and Marcus stand at the mouth of one of the tunnels dug by the Commander's troops.) Indra: (As the villagers pass them by:) "We dug these tunnels for our warriors. For strategic purposes." Marcus: "And today they're providing shelter from the Prince's men. He'll be at the castle by now. Soon Prince John will send his men to round up the people who stood against him." Indra: (Nods:) "There's more than enough room. These tunnels run the length and breadth of the forest." Marcus: "Good, the soldiers won't find us here, even if they knew where to look." Inside The Tunnel. (Clarke and Abby have been catching up on all the events that have happened since their separation.) Clarke: "And that's why I can't let John take the throne. It'd be the end for England and these people as we know it. We have to make a plan." Abby: "Wait a minute. Just let me look at you." Clarke: "Mom, we'll have plenty of time to catch up once I'm Queen." Abby: "Eleanor, you can't seriously be thinking about staying and ruling England." Clarke: "Of course I am. We don't have any other options." Abby: "You can come home with Marcus and I. Where you'll be safe and out of John's reach for good." Clarke: "I can't abandon my people, mother. (Hesitates:) And I can't allow the man who colluded in my father’s assassination to rule England either." Abby: (Frowns:) "Your father? I don't understand, Eleanor-" Clarke: "My name is Clarke, it’s who I am now. Dad was murdered at sea by allies of Prince John. The perpetrator confessed before he was silenced for good." (Abby gets to her feet and walks a few paces from Clarke. Pulling the chain she wears around her neck out from under her clothes, we see a wedding ring on the end of it.) Abby: (After a long silence:) "If what you say is true then it changes nothing." Clarke: "Mom-" Abby: "No, I already lost your father, I refuse to lose you as well." Clarke: "I will not run!" Marcus: (Stepping into the tunnel:) "Clarke's right, Abby. (Both women turn to look at him:) A man like John cannot become King. We have to stop him, whatever the cost." (Clarke nods her thanks as Abby looks between them, not happy with their decision.)

Nottingham Castle. (Blamire and Isabella stand on the edge of the remaining floor where the large bathing pool once was. Blamire bows his head in silent prayer for the lives of his lost men while Isabella cannot help but lament the loss of her beloved pool. Prince John, with goblet in hand stands beside her and looks down.) Prince John: "Such a tragedy. We shall have it fully restored of course, my dear." (Blamire raises his head and glowers at the pair of them.) Isabella: "Thank you, your highness. Perhaps you could clear something else up for me?" Prince John: "Anything, my dear." Isabella: (Glancing back at the Sheriff:) "Well before you arrived, the sticky subject of who the rightful Sheriff of Nottingham is came up again. And, as you're here, I was wondering if-" Prince John: (Finishing for her:) "I could decide who's to be Sheriff? Of course my dear. (Turns to look over to the man in black:) Vaisey shall be hence forth restored to his position as Sheriff of Nottingham. (As Isabella begins to protest:) For services to the crown that can never truly be paid in full." Sheriff: (Bows:) "Sire is too kind." Prince John: (Grins and turns back to Isabella:) "Besides, I have much more exciting things in mind for you my dear girl. (Offering his elbow:) Come along." (Isabella hesitantly places her hand through the crook of the Prince's arm and allows herself to be led from the room. The Sheriff meanwhile walks over to stand beside Blamire and peers below.) Sheriff: (Grimacing:) "Nasty. (Straightens:) Oh well, one can't grieve forever. Assemble the remaining castle guards to begin clearing away the dead." Blamire: (As the Sheriff turns to leave:) "My lord?" Sheriff: "Yes, Blamire?" Blamire: "How shall we go about replacing your army?" Sheriff: "Ah, well with the King now dead the Black Knights purpose has been fulfilled. (Seeing that Blamire is not pleased with this answer.) I'll tell you what, the Prince is leaving a permanent regiment here in Nottingham, I shall speak to him and make sure you're at the head of it. Hows that, hm?" (The Sheriff leaves without waiting for an answer. Blamire gives his fallen comrades one last look before he too turns and leaves the room.)

Sherwood Forest. Tunnels. (Everyone is now gathered in the tunnels. Several campfires have been lit and everyone is discussion their next move.) Robin: "We’ll have to have two men patrols every two hours for as long as we stay here." Marcus: "I agree but we should be safe here." Will: "And why's that?" Marcus: "Because if the Prince's men tried to enter it'd be suicide. They’re much more likely to try and flush us out." Octavia: "If they find the tunnels to begin with." Marian: "Well can we agree that neither Robin or Guy are a part of these patrols?" Robin: "Marian-" Clarke: (Cutting In:) "She's right, Robin. As far as the Sheriff knows both of you are dead. We need the Prince to believe that for as long as possible." Robin: "I won't sit here and do nothing." Marian: "You won't be. Stopping Prince John from becoming King won’t be easy." Marcus: (To Clarke:) "Which is why, for the time being, you're staying hidden too." Clarke: (Nods:) "He'll definitely have men out searching for me. My uncle won't return to London without me under his control." Allan: "I'm not being funny but, what chance do we have? The King's dead and Prince John is in the castle surrounded by an army." Marian: "We don't know for certain that the King is dead. In fact we only have the Sheriff's word that he's even injured." Allan: "Well something’s keeping him from returning isn’t it?" Clarke: "Dead or not, after last time the Archbishop won't coronate John without a body and even then there's no guarantee he'll do it. We have time, there's still-" Gisborne: (From across the way:) "There's still hundreds of the Prince's forces out there. Castle guards and the Sheriff's army was one thing. The Prince is sure to be riding in at the head of an army three times the size of the one Blamire commanded." (Octavia turns to look over her shoulder at Gisborne at the mention of Blamire's name.) Marian: "Not necessarily, I mean John's army were battling Joan's army just days ago." Robin: "But they still defeated her. Gisborne's right, Marian. The numbers just aren't in our favour." Clarke: "No, but the element of surprise is. If we plan this right I just know we've still got a chance." (Everyone looks around, no one is optimistic.) Djaq: "Robin, what about the villagers? Surely we can't expect them to stay here with us?" Robin: (Shakes his head:) "No. Vaisey as good as said he needs the villagers going forward. If we sneak them out in small groups gradually then they can all return to their villages. With Gisborne and I presumed dead I can only hope the Sheriff's mind will have turned to other things. We need Nottingham to return to as close to normal as possible for our plan to work." Marian: "So you do have a plan then?" Robin: (Stares into the fire, smirking:) "The beginnings of one, yes."