#I almost posted last night asking the void why but then thought eh who cares

[madeofbees]

me last night videoing with my wife 6,000 miles away: no you don’t understand his tie is SO WIDE in his first scene like even for Hannibal aka Mr. Wide Ties it’s so fucking big I just I don’t understand it’s like the size of his neck it’s like he’s wearing a giant bow I don’t get it here look

me:

wife: …I’m going to sleep now

me, whispering: but why

~ SIXTEEN AND A HALF HOURS LATER ~

me, out of nowhere, while my wife is napping and I’m supposed to be resting from screens: IS THE TIE HIS DICK

me: I’m so mad, that explains the color too

me: Usually his ties are bright and/or patterned, often paisley, often maroon, often dark.

me:

me: But this tie is pale and plain and super extra double wide I am so mad that’s it isn’t it

me: Fuck Bryan Fuller and fuck the wardrobe department ugh.

me: ( I say with abject adoration )

wife: *left on read*

[thenightling]

Dreams to Dream: Chapter 2

Dreams to Dream: Chapter 2  A Sandman fan fiction.

To read Chapter 1 click here.

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/189523771118/dreams-to-dream-a-sandman-fan-fiction-chapter-1

Chapter 2 below.

2

 Morpheus walked with purpose and determination toward the shore of The Sea of Night.  Lucien was following behind him, ready to catch him should he fall again though he did not tell him that was why he was staying so close.  And that wasn’t the whole reason as to why he was staying so close. He had lost two Dream Lords.  Now this remnant of his first master, this fragile thing, was all he had left.   He could not lose him again.   He had lost too much too fast.

Black wings spread against the stars, heavy flapping in the salty sea air.   Matthew The Raven saw the two figures walking toward the water.  The taller figure was Lucien.  He recognized him immediately.   The other, thin figure, with the mop of wild dark hair.   Well, it had to be his imagination, right?  That couldn’t be who he thought it was.   Longing and also anger pierced the heart of the raven.   He swooped down toward the pair.

“Who the Hell are you?” “You know who I am, Mathew.” The voice was weary, calm and familiar. “No!  No, you’re not!  He’s dead!” The raven argued, angrily, fluttering around him. “Yes, I am.”

 Morpheus knelt down in the sand.  Not close enough to the water that the sand might be damp. Here the sand was soft, and dry and almost white in the pale blue light of a crystalline moon.  He motioned to Lucien.              “Now I will need some cloth, a large square of about two thirds of a meter in each direction. Scissors or a large sewing needle.  And a cord.  Soft rope is preferred.  Matthew?”            “Huh?  Why would I have that?  And what are you doing?”  He was still skeptical of the pale figure.  “If you’re really him, what was the last thing I said to you?”            “Matthew, please.”  He didn’t want to think about that right now.  He put a hand to his own temples.            “I don’t think you’re him and I’m not helping you until you tell me.”            He sighed and looked up from his intended work. “You told me…  That you would see me when I come back to the castle… That you would wait for me there.  I sent you away…”

           It was really him, wasn’t it?  Well, even if it wasn’t, he was going to treat him like he was.  Matthew was furious.  “You sent me away so you could die!   You knew they were gonna kill you and you just let ‘em!   Why!?   WHY!?”

           He stared at the raven and finally, reached out to him, placing a hand on the bird’s head, gently, stroking.   It wasn’t a normal gesture.  In fact it was quite alien for him.

           “Don’t touch me!” Matthew snapped.            Morpheus drew his hand back in a quick recoil.  

“You killed yourself!  You left us! You don’t give a damn about any of this! So why come back now?”  Matthew demanded to know.  

           “I do care, Matthew.  I am… I was just one aspect of a greater whole.  When one aspect of Dream of The Endless is …destroyed, another takes its place. I was… so very tired…”

           “You self-destructive, selfish, asshole!  You gave the kingdom to a kid and left us to rot!”

           “I thought he would protect you.  I thought he would govern well.   He is me after all… or what I used to be.  I did not want the kingdom to crumble as it had during my last absence.  I thought he could fulfill his function without aid.  I was wrong.  I am sorry.”

           The raven snorted.  “Sorry doesn’t cut it.”

           “Please, help me now.  Help me to set this right …and to save him.”

           Matthew’s anger ebbed for a moment as he looked at those wet black eyes. Wet… “All right.”  He said defeatedly.  “All right. I’ll help ya. What do you need, boss?”

           There was a trace of a smile on the pale face.

             Matthew had retrieved the items Morpheus asked for and Lucien had retrieved the helm of dreams.  Lucien carried the helm under one arm, protectively.

Now Morpheus knelt with the cord and a square of red velvet.  He was working with these things.

           Matthew perched on Lucien’s shoulder and asked. “What’s he doing?”

           “Isn’t it obvious, Matrhew?  He’s making a pouch of dreamsand.”

             Morpheus filled the crimson, velvet pouch with pale beach sand.  “There.” He said as he held up the pouch in the moonlight. It was about the size of the brown, leather one that he had left to Daniel years before.  

           “Will you be needing your helm, my lord?” Lucien asked.

           “I am no longer your lord, Lucien.”

           “Sorry, my Lord.  I mean… Morpheus?”  No, that didn’t sound right.

           Morpheus gave him a reassuring look.  “The helm is no longer mine, Lucien.  It belongs to him now but have it ready, please.  He may need it.  I told you. I am no longer Dream of The Endless.”

           “Yeah, you’ve said that.”  Matthew said. “So what are you?”

           “I am a dream of an old Dream.”

“So you have no clue, huh?”

Morpheus frowned, not precisely answering the question.   “I am the failsafe in case the true master of this realm falls.  I am Morpheus.  And I hope that is enough.”

 Morpheus stood and secured the pouch at his waistline at the belt loop of a pair of trousers that Matthew wasn’t entirely sure he had been wearing under the robes before.  It was probably best not to ask.  Morpheus stared out at the glittering, lapping waves.

When Morpheus’ sister came for him he knew that his time as Dream of The Endless and his reign was over.  And he had felt at peace knowing The Dreaming was in safe hands.   When Dream (Daniel) had called him- his spirit- the essence that was his very soul, back, Morpheus had known what Daniel’s intentions were.  He found himself, a newborn dream-creature.   Sustained by the memory and thoughts of who he had been, from those who knew him.  Especially of Hob, his immortal friend.  

 “Can you sense him?”  Matthew asked.  “He closed himself off from me.”

“No.” Morpheus said.  “But I know where I would go and so I think I know where he is.”

“Because he is you?  Eh… What you used to be…  This is confusing.”

“Something like that, yes.”  Morpheus reached his hand for the new pouch of dreamsand.  It was different from the old, leather pouch. But it also was familiar. It felt good to feel the sand between his fingers again, even though he didn’t dare to admit it even to himself. Perhaps he had missed this.  

The glittering sand scattered in front of him and hovered in the air by his very will. He had to concentrate to maintain it but what he wanted was taking form.  The way was opening.  The spiral of sand became a vortex in the air, leading to another place.

  He looked back at Lucien and Matthew. “Are you coming too?”  Though the true meaning was along the lines of “Will you come with me?”

Matthew understood but it didn’t really seem like something Morpheus would say and there was that brief pang of doubt that this was him.

Lucien adjusted his own bowtie. “You want us to come with you, My Lord…  er… Morpheus?”

“If you stay here, you will likely die.  I would rather that not happen.”

Matthew laughed uneasily and then said in a fake Austrian accent “’Come with me if you want to live.’”  

Needless to say, Morpheus did not get the reference.  

Matthew: “We’re right behind you, boss.”

 Morpheus rose up off his feet as if he was weightless.  Matthew could see the white feet were bare. And Morpheus plunged into the void beyond…

[ice-cream-under-stars]

Lost and Found (Jumin Han x Mc)

Chapter 1 (1,877 words)

Description: If black cats were a negative omen, did that mean white cats were a positive one? Of course, Mc never believed the superstitions revolving around cats, but it was a fleeting thought that had crossed her mind as she found herself mysteriously joining an organization which involved the owner of that equally mysterious white cat. Mc didn’t quite know the odds, but she knew they were low. However, she wasn’t sure if she believed in coincidence either...

Author’s note: Heya! I’m not very far into this (only in the middle of chapter three) and i have a very loose picture of where this is going so I’m not sure how long this fic will last. Anyways, for now, here’s chapter one! I usually regret posting my fan fictions later on but lets hope that doesn’t happen with this one hehe. 

This fic is sort of an au. It still loosely follows the og Mystic Messenger timeline, with some changes. One being that I’m going to slow down the flow of things. That way Jumin and Mc will have more time to develop feelings for each other. So i guess you could call this slow burn?? Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and if there are any grammatical errors, sorry!

Next chapter

Chapter 1

Meow! Mc made her way to the door of her apartment building. Meow! Before she could enter, her phone began to buzz in her pocket. Meow! She furrowed her brow and looked around. No cat in sight. After a shrug, she proceeded to read the text message she had just received. Meow! 

“What the—” Spinning her head around once more, Mc spotted a white Persian cat primly sitting not more than ten feet away. “Hey, kitty!” she cooed, kneeling down and holding out her hand. “Come here, baby.” The feline took her time, zigzagging toward Mc. She warily sniffed the hand offered before rubbing her face on it and purring. “Aww you’re just a sweetie. What you doing out here all alone, hm?” Of course, the response was purring. Mc scanned her surroundings again, only to find the street void of people. She returned her attention to the fluffy fur-ball, who was now on her back, playfully kicking and biting Mc’s hand. “I wonder how long you’ve been out here,” she mused. “Not long, I’m guessing.” Her coat was still relatively pristine. Mc proceeded to scoop up the cat and enter her apartment building.

Once inside her unit, she put the Persian down and made her way to the kitchen. Grabbing a chair, she placed it under an array of cabinets, moving aside the spices to grab the can of cat food in the back. Glancing at the can, Mc felt a small wave of sadness wash over her. She demounted from the chair and retrieved a tin bowl that hadn’t been used for a month now. After she dished up a few scoops, she placed it on the floor and waited for the feline to eat. She didn’t. Well, not at first. She sat there a moment, staring at it, then at Mc. “Go on.” Mc scratched the cat’s head and gradually ran her fingers down its back. That is when she dove into the meat; however, the moment Mc stopped, her (apparent) master chirped a series of short mews. Mc smiled. “Ah, so you won’t eat unless you’re pampered while doing so? Spoiled much?” But, not being able to resist that cute furry face, she obliged.

Next, Mc showed her new guest where the litter box was before plopping herself and the cat on the bed, both falling fast asleep.

The following morning, Mc asked around the area to see if they owned a white Persian cat, and showed them a picture. No luck. She knew it wouldn’t be that simple, seeing as she had never seen the cat before. 

  Thirty minutes passed before she returned to her apartment. She noticed the food she had left out before leaving that morning was licked clean out of the bowl, and it’s devourer lounging on the bed, bathing herself. “Oh, so now you’ll eat without me petting you?” Mc retorted, feigning annoyance.

After eating her own breakfast and taking a shower, she heard a knock on her apartment door. “You have a key, you can open it yourself!” she lazily shouted from atop her mattress. There was some fumbling before a woman entered. She had cropped hair that looked like milk chocolate and smooth light-brown skin.

“Well, excuse me for wanting to be polite!”

“Sav, our friendship is way past politeness.” Savannah collapsed onto the bed beside Mc and simply shrugged.

“Hey! Why is there a ton of fur on your comforter?!” Mc tore her gaze away from her phone.

“Uh so I sort of picked up a cat last night.”

“Wait, wha—?! Where is it? You got over Minnie already? I thought you said—“

“No, no, no! She found me last night and she was alone and I couldn’t leave her so I’m just letting her stay here until I find the owner.” As if she had been summoned, the feline in question hopped onto the bed and curled up next to Mc, completely ignoring Savannah. She rolled her eyes,

“Typical cat. So—,” a yawn interrupted her, “how do you plan to find this mystery owner? How do you even know she had an owner? Or what if the owner was being abusive, so the cat ran away.”

“Uh, that’s definitely not the case. Jeez, Sav, this isn’t some tragic pet movie.”

“But how do you know that for sure, hmm? For all you now, you could be trying to return her to the hell she just escaped!”

“Look at her coat. It’s extremely healthy. Look at it. She’s clearly groomed regularly and gets the best food. No one who cares about their cat wouldn’t abuse their cat.”

“Eh, wasn’t that a double negative?” Sav interjected. Mc put her foot on her friend’s head.

“The point is that I need to find the owner. They’re probably worried sick. Like— just imagine if the owner was a little girl. Hm? Sav, would you want some twelve year old girl to be crying and worried sick about their dear lost kitty cat?” Sav sighed exasperatedly.

“Fine,” she groaned. “So, what are you doing to find this twelve year old girl?”

“Well I already checked most of the other units in this building, and I just posted a pic on Instagram and Tumblr asking if anyone had lost a cat that looked like this one.”

“And?”

“Well, I just posted it. Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have tons of followers like you who see my stuff instantly.”

“O—kay... so what do you plan on doing in the meantime?” Mc sat up.

“I guess I’ll continue to ask around locally. Wanna join me?”

“Ehhh what’s in it for me? A good conscience knowing I just saved a twelve year old girl from the depths of despair?”

“Well, that, and I’ll buy you a Starbucks.” Sav bolted up.

“Deal!”

Their inquiry proved to be unfruitful. That day, which had previously been planned out as a day they would hang out together before Savannah had to leave the city for a shoot, was spent up almost entirely looking for the owner of the mysterious Persian. It was four in the afternoon when Sav began to complain. Honestly, it surprised Mc that she managed to last that long.

“This is not how I imagined today was gonna go.”

“Me neither,” Mc mumbled. “How about we grab some dinner? Or do you need to head back and pack?”

“Who do you take me for? I’m already packed.”

“Alright, let’s get some dinner then, Miss proactive.”

The next day also unearthed no evidence as to who owned the cat. Mc decided to spend the day inside watching Netflix and YouTube, but kept a wary eye on her social media sites. She had made multiple posts, but the few replies she had gotten were along the lines of “Aw, cute! Hope you find the owner.”

The weekend ended. Mc had begun to think that she would have to keep her new feline friend until, on Monday morning, she woke to find that Savannah had called her three times and texted her five times. “Call me.” “Mc wake up!” “Hey its abt the cat.” “Call mehhh.” “Hellooo?” Mc bolted upright and dialed her friend.

“Finally! Don’t you have work today?!”

“Never mind that! What’s this about the cat?”

“Right, right. So you know how you said it could be owned by a twelve year old girl? Turns out she’s a twenty-seven year old man.”

“Wait, what? How do—”

“And guess who that is?”

“Uh—”

“Ju-min Ha-n!” Silence ensued. “Yo— please tell me you know who that is.”

“Uh, well—” An exasperated sigh came from the other side of the phone.

“Seriously, Mc, how do you live in the same city as the corporate heir to one of the most famous companies in South Korea and not even know who he is?!”

“What?! If he’s as important as you say he is, how the heck does his cat end up on the streets? Are you sure? How do you know she’s his?”

“I saw an online news article. Can you believe he had a news article put up about his missing cat? Usually people just post papers around saying ‘MISSING CAT.’” Mc replied thoughtfully,

“He obviously cares for her a lot.” Mc paused. “I can relate.”

“Anyways, he said he’d reward anyone who found her and returned her to him unharmed. The amount is uh... steep.” Mc brushed passed her friend’s statement.

“Send me the link to the article.”

“I cant. The photographer is here and ready to begin the shoot. Sorry! Just look up ‘Jumin Han, cat’ and you’ll get plenty of results. Talk later!”

Savannah wasn’t lying. There was more than just one article covering the topic. Mc clicked into the top website and scrolled down to the contact information. There was a phone number and an email address. Mc decided to dial the number right away. She hadn’t truly thought about it, as she was not apart of the high class world, but she subconsciously was expecting Mr. Han himself to pick up. She was startled when a female’s voice sounded on the other end.

“Hello, this is Chief Assistant Kang speaking.”

“O-oh... um... hello.” Her surprise was evident in her tone, but fortunately, the woman seemed to not notice or care.

“Do you know the whereabouts of the feline belonging to Mr. Jumin Han?” So formal. Mc could detect the weariness in the voice. In fact, the statement was monotone, as if the speaker had relayed it more than a million times that day.

“Hello? Miss, if this is a prank call I will hang up.”

“No! Please don’t hang up!” Mc sighed and continued. “I think I have Mr. Han’s cat.”

“‘Think’ or ‘know’?” She still didn’t show any type of surprise or urgency in her voice. This chick’s probably heard a lot of claims of having or seeing the white Persian; what with that reward, Mc mused.

“I’m pretty sure. I’d say she looks the same as the pictures in the ads. And her demeanor and coat scream ‘pampered.’” The woman’s voice grew more attentive.

“And where is the cat now?”

“Here with me at my apartment. I found her wandering near my apartment building and after she took a liking to me I took her in.”

“And how long as she been with you?”

“Since Friday night. I would have contacted you sooner but I had zero clue who she belonged to.”

“Could you provide any proof that you in fact do possess my employer’s cat?”

“I can send you a photo I took.”

“That will do. Send it to the email address on the website you got this number from. Goodbye.” Click.

Mc did as instructed. After ten minutes lapsed, she received a reply. It’s contents were along the lines of: 

“Mr. Han has identified the cat in the photo as his own. As soon as possible, please, bring her, safely and comfortably, to—” and an address was added. Mc glanced at the time. It was almost 5 p.m. and that meant rush hour. Taxis would be difficult to come by; but when the C&R corporate heir’s cat was in need of returning to her owner, how could one refuse?

[outlawqueenbey]

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

**inspired by a post I saw where Regina uses her magic mirror to check in on the Queen and Robin Locksley**

It’s been over a year since she has checked in on the Queen, a small little peek into the other woman’s life just to make sure that everything is okay, that they are okay. And so far, everything seems good, really good. She’s had a couple chuckles over watching this other version of herself lose the royal thickness about her and become a woman of the forest. Long gone are the jewelled cloaks and high heels, all which have been traded in for more sensible clothing, furs, trousers and a bow on her back. It reminds her of the time she herself spent as a bandit, for that moment in time where she had been on the run from an Evil Queen and an outlaw had come to her rescue. It’s odd, to watch it play out in real life.

But this other Regina seems happy now that she’s stopped grumbling about living in the forest. It suits her. Suits them. And while they may live in a forest, Regina can’t help but smile at the fact that apparently you may be able to take a Queen out of her royal castle, but you can’t quite take all of royalty out of the Queen. They live comfortably, in a large-ish cottage on a hill surrounded by trees overlooking a lake. Thanks to her magic, they have everything they need, even indoor plumbing, a note Regina did laugh at. But Robin is still Robin. He still hunts and lives off the land, and makes campfires beneath the stars.

She’d watched them one night, tucked on a couch together underneath a blanket, a calm flickering of orange glow from the hearth beating about them as Robin combed through her hair till her eyes closed. She hadn’t meant to watch them as long as she had, feeling like a peeping tom and all, but Robin had waited till his Regina was nearly asleep, breathing heavier than a few minutes prior when he rustled gently in his pocket, and pulled out a small little box. She’d watched as his eyes trailed back down to the near asleep woman on his chest, a small smile creeping into his dimples as he kissed her temple and begun to play with her left hand.

Her heart had thundered as she sat silently in her room, absorbed in them and what was about to happen. He’d kissed her cheek, placed a few to her temple, and across her brow until she grinned in her sleep, curling further into his arms, as he pulled her gently awake. The Queen’s eyes had drifted blissfully open, contentment swirling about in them, at least until she saw the box Robin had pressed into her palm.

Regina’s breath had hitched at the same time the Queen’s had, the mirror in her hands creeping closer as she waited to see what the other woman would say, knowing the answer in her heart already. His voice was low, curious and full of love as he asked her the question, the Queen’s eyes flickering up from the diamond to his gaze, stunned, before she broke out into a smile, and nodded, pulling him down to meet her lips that ceased to stop grinning. She’d put the mirror down after that, wiped away a few tears she wasn’t sure were from longing or happiness. That had been the last time she’d seen them, snuggled together in their home, newly engaged.

She doesn’t do it often anymore, gaze into her magic mirror and see how they are, because it feels a bit strange sometimes, to see a life she could have lived going on in front of her eyes. It brings about an ache in her heart, wondering if she and her Robin would have lived this way, happily together. Maybe that’s why her checking in on them have been fewer and farther in between over the past two years. She is content that they are happy, that she was able to be a part of making that happen.

But something just felt a little different today, Henry had left for a school trip for a week and she was feeling a bit lonely in her mansion. For a few hours she’d managed to occupy her mind with cooking dinner (for one). Had made apple turnovers she’d not yet touched and had a long bath, even done her nails. And it’s only eight o’clock. Too early to fall asleep, nothing to capture her attention on TV, her book long finished.

Humming to herself, she thumbs the mirror on her bedside table, gnawing at the fact she wants to see them, that maybe, for a few minutes she’ll allow herself to pretend it’s her and Robin instead. Just a few minutes, ten tops. Sinking beneath the covers, she sighs, turning the glass towards her face and whispers out, “Mirror Mirror on the Wall, show me what I want to see most of all.” It glows a deep purple, bright and swirling in her palm till the light settles and the image fades into view.

It’s day time there, warm sun pooling into an empty living room, though seems no one is home. The thought makes Regina pout, unamused, what is she supposed to do now? Huffing out a breath, she sets the mirror aside, as stares out the window silently. The quiet is nice, she supposes. Not what she wanted, but what can she do about it? Settling into her pillow her eyes flutter shut, and she pictures Robin beside her, or maybe downstairs, frowning adorably at the appliances he’d yet to figure out.

She’d lost a toaster and a coffee pot whilst he was here and his curiosity had gotten the better of him. The sheepish look he’d given her as she’d walked into the kitchen to put out the fire alarm blaring away due to another smoke bomb from a destroyed instrument far too precious to have her irritation even flare a bit. He’d apologized, run his hand through his hair and sighed at the small carnage he’d created. But she hadn’t care, would just shrug and kiss him happily, letting her wrist flick and restore the appliance back to it’s working state. She liked those moments. Domestic ones between the two of them, it felt like normalcy had finally begun to settle into her life.

A muffled voice cues her attention back to the mirror beside her as she fumbles and flips it back over, light streaming into the cottage as a door swings open and she sees the other Regina walk into the living room, carting a basket on her hip and a smile on her lips. “I’ll be right there!” She calls back out over her shoulder, heaving the load from her arms onto the table. Robin must be outside.

She looks different. Her hair tied into a loose braid that swings over her cotton clothed back, face void of all makeup and dirt under her nails. It’s not the first time Regina has been amused at the sight of the once regal royal all dirtied up playing house. It’s nice. She dusts off her pants, makes her way quickly to the kitchen on the left just out of Regina’s view. In the distance she swears she can hear more than just one voice. Robin’s certainly, but there is someone else there with him, someone younger. Her heart flutters as a hushed laughter echoes around her. It sounds just like--

“Roland! Come back here.”

She freezes under her blankets, jaw dropping and eyes watering as she sees the mop of brown curly hair rush into the cottage. He looks exactly the same, a bit bigger no doubt, with the time that has passed, but his face hasn’t changed from the picture in her memory. Big button brown eyes, chubby dimpled cheeks, two new missing front teeth as he shouts cheerfully into the kitchen from the sofa he’s landed himself on. His little chest puffs in and out, and Regina can’t help the tears that fall, nor the way her fingers trace his face. She misses him so goddamn much. Kicks herself everyday for not being able to figure out how to get to him somehow.

“Hello, my little archer.” The Queen smiles as she steps back into the room, flopping herself down beside him, lips playfully coating his cheeks in affection as he squeals in delight beneath her.

Regina’s heart clenching at the sight of him moving to settle into the Queen’s lap, grinning up at her as his hands part, revealing a perfectly sliced apple, well almost perfectly sliced, one half is surely larger than the other. “I did it!”

“I see that! You’re getting better than Robin!”

“Yup!” Roland munches triumphantly on his half he hadn’t relinquished into the Queen’s hands.

“Oh you think so, eh?” Robin comes into view, his hair tousled on his forehead, a grin beaming as he settles down beside them with a smirk. “Should I tell Little John you’re about to take over as the leader of the Merry Men then, yeah?”

“Let him down easy, he’s a sensitive guy.” The Queen winks as she nuzzles down into Roland’s hair. “Speaking of which, he’ll be by rather soon to come collect you.”

“Awww, Gina, do I have to go?”

The pout he sends her is beautiful, as is the smile she sends back. Regina still sits enraptured on her bed, can’t help but feel a flutter in her stomach. They found each other. All of them. How she doesn’t know, but what does it matter anyway? It’s a perfect picture glowing out from her mirror. “You need to get some sleep or else you will fall asleep on the way tomorrow, and be a little grumpy toad.”

“No I won’t!”

Robin laughs, laces his fingers behind Roland’s back with the Queen’s, “Perhaps we can convince him to let you stay the night.”

“Yes!”

“We all know he is an easy turn if you show him just how good your archery has gotten, maybe he’ll seen reason in letting you stay and practice some more.”

Roland bounds between them, whooping and hollering as he grabs his small bow and arrow and races back outside, his cheering still heard from the quiet that surrounds the pair still on the couch. Robin turns his eyes from the doorway back to his wife who leans her head on the soft brown cushions, humming happily when he moves closer to her, draping her legs across his thighs, and tugging her tighter into him with a smiling kiss to her lips. The seemingly innocent kiss suddenly turns into something far more heated, a moan in the back of the Queen’s throat has Regina flushing hot, best be time to go.

Her hand begins to wave across the mirror, but her eyes glue to the placing of Robin’s hand on the Queen’s stomach, and she lets her magic fizzle out. They smile, a bashful blissful thing, eyes meeting one another’s before Robin shimmies down between the Queen’s thighs, his hands cupping a small swell Regina hadn’t noticed before.

“Hello, my boy. How are we this afternoon?”

The Queen cards through his hair, tilts her chin down and smiles as he begins talking to her bump, Regina hanging onto every muffled word and mischievous, cheerful grin he sends back up at his lover before focusing back down to the task of talking to their unborn child. “Now, you stay safe and warm in there and try to ease up on your mother for a while okay?” His kisses the swell and moves back up to buss the former Queen’s lips. “We should start thinking of names.”

“Already?”

“Why not?”

“Do you have anything in mind?”

Robin bites down on his lip, brow creasing as he scoots back down to the barely there bump. “Well, my father’s name was Richard.”

“Baby Boy Richard?” She cringes hard.

They both lock eyes before sharing a laugh, Robin shaking his head, “A definite no.”

“What about Rigel?”

“Rigel Locksley?”

The Queen shrugs, “I kind of like it.”

“As do I. And for a middle name?”

Regina soaks in the moment. Little Rigel. She wonders if he will look like Robin, or maybe a smaller version of Roland, her complexion to Marian is close enough anyway. And when the Queen whispers out a name, Regina’s heart stills, eyes flush with new tears.

“Henry?”

“I know that you didn’t really know him, either of them, my father or my son, but I’d like to…”

Her words are cut off by another melting of Robin’s lips to her own. “Say no more, Rigel Henry Locksley it is.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course, my love. It’s perfect.”

They settle in together, lacing their hands over their baby boy safe in Regina’s belly.  

“You’re sure you want to go tomorrow? We can wait a few days for you to feel better you know.”

“I’m okay.”

“You sure? You’re only a few weeks along, we don’t even have to go.”

She kisses him again, slow and steady before nodding, “I promise I’m fine, it’s not as bad as it was with Rae, that’s for sure.” Her eyebrows arch momentarily, “Plus, we promised Roland we’d take him.”

“He’d understand if you aren’t feeling up to it.” He rubs down her legs and back up her arms, saddling a fraction closer to her on the sofa.

“I know, he’s a good little boy, but I swear, I’m okay.”

“You’d tell me if you weren’t right? We can turn around anytime you want.”

He frowns, though the Queen chuckles, “You worry too much.”

She bumps his nose with her own as he sighs through a laugh, “I know, but it’s only cause I love you’re cooking and can’t imagine having to go back to eating boiled rabbit.” He jests at her, dimples on full display, as she scoffs, slaps his chest half heartedly.

“That’s why you married me? For my cooking skills?”

“Well that,” he leans in to catch her lips once more, “and maybe a few other things.”

Clearly something, no matter the realm or version never changed.

She huffs, pecks his lips a few times more, “Roland’s waiting. I’ll be right there.”

Robin smiles through his lingering concern, nuzzling into her neck for a few well placed kisses before extracting himself from her body, letting his hand circle across her stomach a few more times. “Speaking of little ones, shouldn’t she be up by now?”

“Probably, if we want to actually get some sleep tonight.” The Queen hums, running her own hands along the small swell as Robin stands, kissing her forehead one last time before whispering gently, “I’ll see you outside, my love.”

Regina watches as Robin leaves the Queen still smiling on the couch, soothing her hand over her stomach. This she certainly wasn’t expecting to see… an expecting version of herself. Where she’d figured envy would creep in, there is nothing. Well not nothing, there is a bubble of calmness that surrounds her as she smiles at the sight.

“Mama?” A little voice calls from up the stairs.

“Coming baby!” The Queen stands, and skips up the steps quickly and Regina can’t help but wait to see what their daughter looks like, what her and Robin’s daughter may have looked like. The room grows quiet as she sits up taller against the headboard, brushing a lock behind her ear, she needs a haircut, desperately so. But Robin liked it long, and she can’t really find it in her to shear it again. Oh well, unruly waves be damned, it will stay this length at least for a little while longer.

The sound of footsteps and happy bubbling laughter brings her eyes back to the mirror, the brown boots of the Queen coming into view first, her thighs and then a small dangling pair of matching boots at her waist. It’s all long brown curls hiding a little face burrowed into her mother’s neck. She can’t be more than twelve months, a baby still. A beautiful giggle muffled by the Queen’s own humming chuckle as she balances her daughter on her hip, whispering something Regina can’t quite catch.

“Shall we go see your daddy?” She turns and makes her way to the door, bouncing the little girl on her hip, and as they begin to walk away from the wall mirror Regina watches them from. Her eyes lock onto a pair of sky blue sparkling ones, chubby pink cheeks, dimples and a perfect rosy pout. For a second the little girl almost seems to sense her, and Regina can’t help but wave her fingers slowly as mother and daughter walk into the distance, and just before she loses sight of them, five little fingers wave back.

She laughs, brushes the tears off of her cheeks and sets the mirror down, her heart blooming and bursting at its seams. Her eyes close as she nestles back into bed, her mind swirling with the image of the perfect little family she had a part in bringing together, and something settles in her, a sense of calm and understanding that this will be the last time she uses the mirror, they have found a happily ever after, after all.