power & control
power & control
born to be q u e e n

❝ Once upon a time there was a QUEEN who cast a glorious curse that gave her everything she wanted; or so she thought

independent regina mills rp blog -- highly crosssover friendly. please read 'guide' and 'alt verse' before you begin.     mun is 21+

tracking: herroyaldarkness


The Queen takes Comic Con.



                                            Tick tock

                                                                         Tick tock

He doesn’t need an alarm to wake him. He’s spent the last hour, dreaming while awake. About this day, and this woman sleeping soundly beside him.

It’s almost time.

Their child stopped kicking sometime before he fell asleep, as if he or she knew that the day to come was special, and they ought to let their mommy have her rest. And though he can no longer feel the push of the baby’s heel against the inside wall of her stomach, his hand has yet to leave it’s resting place against it. From where he lays he can just see the peaceful look on her face, as he glances over her shoulder. She is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and always has been. And today — today she will be his wife.

He’s as careful and quiet as he can when he drags himself out of bed. And yes drags is the most accurate word for it, as every part of him wants to stay with her, to see her open her eyes on this day, their wedding day, to take the last of three kisses he was given permission to take the night before, as he made sure to save one. But his heart — his heart knows that it’s best, that it’s what she wanted. The anticipation, excitement of seeing each other in the moment, and though he could not give it to her from the night before, he will give it to her now. His lips feel a longing ache when he leaves the room without allowing them to even brush her cheek. The ache will only grow in the hours to come, enough to last a lifetime, but made painless the moment he lays eyes on her. The moment he kisses her lips.

A note can be found in his absence, explaining why he is gone, and that there are a few items he’s left for her on the dresser. Another note will be received in a few hours time, brought by a special someone that he had made sure would be able to attend.

He has become more and more acquainted with her home in the past several days. He chose it for a number of reasons. The most important of which is all of the memory that lives in it, of her and Henry. He knows that it means so much to her, and yet she does not live here anymore. She made a sacrifice for love, for him, though he hopes it doesn’t feel like too much of one, moving in had been what he wanted, and when she showed reluctance he left it at that, though he felt no less strongly about it. She had chosen the perfect gift, truly, when for Father’s Day she relented to his wishes, bringing both herself and their still growing child to live with him. And for the first time since he’d been in the hovel with Grace, he felt he was at home.

He hopes now that they can make a good memory in her home. Most of their others having been, not very good. Some worse than others. But now, now they will have even more reason not to get rid of this house. He’s never wanted her to, though he isn’t sure she’s aware of that. Marrying her here should ensure that she does now.

The backyard is private, surrounded by trees so that no prying eyes can find their way in. He’s made certain that any construction done was by those who would keep quiet if only for a slightly higher payment. He paid even higher still, so that there is no question that the goings on will be entirely theirs and theirs alone. There is an arch in the middle of the yard, a densely carpeted path leading to it to save the grass and her from it. Grace is here, though still slightly unsure what to make of all of it, she wants him to be happy, and after much discussion she’s decided that maybe the Queen is not so frightening as she remembers. She will serve as flower girl, and the other half of Jefferson’s quickly beating heart. It is almost time.

For the fifth time in an hour Jefferson is in Regina’s foyer retying his tie. Scarves are more his flavor, and he just can’t seem to get it right.

"Papa how many times are you going to do that?" Grace asks inquisitively, peeking around a corner in her dress.

His features brighten even as the tie hangs loose around his neck, his scar doesn’t scare her anymore and that is now two who can look at him and see more than the gash across his throat. He is moving closer all the time to looking in a mirror and not even thinking about it. It barely catches his eye as he returns his gaze to his reflection to attempt the tie again.

"What do you think?" He turns to ask Grace, and she smiles at him in that way that reminds him he doesn’t done only bad in his life.

"It looks wonderful, Papa," she says hugging him around his middle. It’s then that they hear her car pull into the drive.

Jefferson’s heart feels like he’s mainlined a shot of adrenaline, his palms becoming clammy and his voice just beginning to shake.

"You sure you’ll be alright?" He asks before he departs, trying to sound as understanding as he can if she chooses now to change her mind.

"Yes Papa," she reassures him.

"Go! You can’t see the bride before!" She exclaims as two figures walk past one of the foggy window panes on either side of the door.

"Alright," he says with a nervous laugh. "You know what to do?"


Jefferson hurries out of the foyer through the dining room and back through the kitchen, just slipping out the back door as he hears the chatter begin.

A long deep breath escapes his lips, which he then chews at in slight worry. Grace is an immensely friendly child, and he hopes that she and Regina will, someday at least, find some sort of camaraderie.

He swallows at the dry lump in his throat, glancing down to smooth his tie and tug at his tuxedo jacket to assure there are no wrinkles, and then begins to pace.

It’s almost time.

"Whoa. Mom, you look —- " Henry stood suddenly at attention at the base of the stares, mouth slightly agape as he looked up at her. "You look awesome. That dress, I mean, it’s so you. At least, the other you. Like the ones you have in your vault under grandpa’s grave." 

Regina smiled at him, easing her way down the stairs, looking down at her dress. “You don’t think it’s too much?” she questioned, lips pursing just a touch.

"No! It’s very cool. Not all…puffy and white." Henry added, clearly stating the obvious. Regina didn’t like not being able to read into his true thoughts. To know whether he thought she looked beautiful or like some reminder of the evil queen he had read about and so despised. But there was no point dwelling on it, not when he was beaming up at her, looking ever the man in his own tux, which was only slightly rumpled from how he’d been sitting slumped over a comic book. 

"I’m glad you like it," she finally said, drawing in a deep breath and glancing around the foyer with a wary look, then back at him, who was still smiling at her. She raised an eyebrow and he suddenly gasped, seeming to realize it was his cue to continue being an escort for Jefferson’s grand schemes.

"Here, we have to go to the backyard now," he exclaimed holding out a hand to walk with her there. Regina smiled, feeling the tremble in her fingers move to her hands and then her chest, and Henry must have felt it too, as he squeezed her hand tighter and paused to look up at her, the most loving smile on his face that she could recall in some time. "You’re gonna be okay, mom. You’re not afraid of anything, remember?" 

She smiled in return, though thought he was misguided if he truly believed that. Still, perhaps that was just the residue of how he had been raised. They reached the kitchen, Grace stood by waiting at the backdoor, when Henry suddenly gasped again, saying something about having forgotten the rings, and he dashed back out to the foyer, leaving the two women alone.

Awkward silence fell for a moment, Regina clearing her throat and glancing at the girl who stared two boring holes through her. Regina had never exactly had a conversation with the girl beyond a few words, and never alone. She gave an awkward smile before she was beckoned forward, the child’s gaze falling to one of scrutiny. 

"You wore my flowers," she pointed out. Regina’s hand raised, gently pressing into the small blossoms that were woven into her hair and she smiled, nodding at the girl.

"They’re very beautiful. It was kind of you to give them to me," she said, getting the smallest of smiles in return. 

"Papa said you would like them, and that you needed them so I picked out the prettiest ones from my garden. I thought he was fibbing to me, but they are pretty with your hair." She said calmly.

Regina shifted a touch awkwardly, and smiled again, before kneeling before the girl just a touch. “I know you and I haven’t had a chance to get to know one another, dear, but I promise you that I will do all that I can to make certain your father is happy. I love him very much. Just like he loves you very much, and I hope someday soon we can learn to be a family together. I think anyone who loves him as much as we both do is bound to be able to get along, hm?” Raising an eyebrow at the girl and smiling widely, Regina was surprised and pleased to see the gril hesitantly smile back, and give a nod.

By the time Regina straightened up, Henry returned, slightly breathless but with a velvet pouch in hand. Once he assured her he had them, he and Grace exchanged a few whispers and nods, and the girl went out ahead of them, a basket of flower petals in hand, her dress sashaying with every step.

"You ready?" Regina looked down at Henry, who was holding out his arm to her, waiting for her to link hes in his. Her smile faltered, apprehension clearly taking a last minute hold on her as she wobbled back a step from the door. A tiny arm looped around hers, steadying her while another reached across to grab her hand. "You can do this mom! Just wait til you see what it looks like. It’s awesome.”

Giving him a small little nod and swallowing back a dry lump, Regina adjusted her veil and drew in a deep breath. She could already feel tears welling in her eyes, threatening to spill out and smudge her makeup, but she held them back. With her arm linked wit her son’s, the only man living or worthy to give her away, they stepped out the door and into the yard, and onto a constructed walkway that had not been there before.

She almost laughed out loud, overwhelmed already by what she saw, and she hadn’t even seen Jefferson as of yet. How he had managed this, and how she could possibly be surprised he had —- well, she didn’t know either. 

With her bouquet clutched tight and pressed against her chest, she and Henry walked on, her heart pounding and drowning out all other sounds. A crescendo of beating that, much like a war drum, kept her feet moving, despite the raging emotions that ravaged her from mind to soul.



it’s that time again for a giveaway to honour hitting 3k.

you’ll need to be following me. only a reblog will count. no personal blogs please. giveaway ends at midnight tonight. there will be one winner & is chosen through a random number generator.

the winner will receive 50 static 100x100 icons of their faceclaim and a promotional banner with a blurb from me about their blog.

examples below cut!

Read More

                “I’m working.”

       xlionhearts’s 1k+ giveaway !!
idk man [ insert sappy thank-you monologue here ] i never thought i’d get this far and stuff ?? yeah but let’s cut to the chase bc i suck w words and stuff god knows how i fancy myself a “writer” but ~

R U L E S .
- must be following me.
- roleplay blogs only.
- reblogs only.
- only reblog once !!
- don’t be a super-soc and unfollow right after. i wILL PUNCH U.
- giveaway ends on august 3rd, 4PM EST. the winners will be randomly chosen, and i will message them. if you don’t respond within a week, a new winner will be chosen !!

P R I Z E S .
first place. one winner.
- 100 icons of a faceclaim of your choice ( depending on resources ) , can be watermarked / texture’d / colored a certain way / etc. if you desire.
- a banner promo with a paragraph ( or paragraphS ) on why ilu / people should follow you.

second place. two winners.
- 30 icons of a faceclaim of your choice ( depending on resources ) , can be watermarked / texture’d / colored a certain way / etc. if you desire.
- also a banner promo. (◕‿◕✿)

third place.  five winners.
- 10 icons of a faceclaim of your choice ( depending on resources ) , can be watermarked / texture’d / colored a certain way / etc. if you desire.
- you guys also get banner promos !! h ELLA (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧

       may the odds be ever in your favor !!


what an incredible ride this has been so far, and i cannot even being to express the gratitude i have for the people who make this place worth coming to. honestly, i am blessed to be surrounded by so many wonderfully talented individuals who do nothing but brighten my day. tumblr is a rough society, but our friends are our power, and we can overcome anything with their love.

in times of doubt or trouble, pain and suffering, just remember; you have my bow.

                               ❝if we should die tonight,
                              we should all die together.

                      Without you, this place is not the same.

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                               ❝if my people fall, then
                               surely i will do the same.

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Lana Parrilla attends Entertainment Weekly’s Annual Comic-Con Celebration in San Diego (Jul 26th, 2014)


There was a certain sort of stillness that had fallen over her. Time slowed to a crawl. Every beat of her heart just the smallest bit painful, as if was somehow swollen, and unable to perform its job properly.  She hadn’t noticed it much during the flurry of activity the morning had provided. Not stopped to think as she embraced her son, enjoying being alone with him for the first time in months. She hadn’t taken pause to contemplate the weight of this situation as she used magic to ensure her hair set just right. A little cheating on her resolution to not use it wouldn’t hurt the baby too much. She hadn’t even felt the pressure of it all as she navigated her car to her own home —- to her original home —- with a grinning and bouncing Henry in the seat next to her. She had only laughed at his comments, and smiled away his jests about how he would have two dads and two moms now.

Yet sitting here, in her room, her gown laid out on the bed next to her, and only a crystal-clear reflection staring back at her, she felt it. She felt almost removed. Afraid, she would easily wager. Afraid to let this be real. Yet the tremble in the tips of her fingers as she lifted an earring and pressed it in told a different tale. She looked serene, with the flowers gifted to her by Jefferson’s daughter delicately arranged in her hair. Looked confident with her stony expression, but it was anything but true. She was terrified. She was elated. She had absolutely no idea what to expect, or what had ever led her to this moment. This wasn’t Daniel. It wasn’t Leopold. It was a man quite the opposite of them both. Jefferson had never known the meaning of restraint as they had, nor how to be soft spoken. He wasn’t a man of subtleties. And he’d ensnared her long before now. Held her heart when she was only a naive, and still-innocent child. In many ways he was just as much to blame for her loss of innocence as her mentor had been. Yet she could fault neither, nor would she wish to change how things had gone.

Next she lifted a necklace, diamonds alternating with onyx, a gift from her fiance. She pulled it around her neck, clasping it, and then smiled at the reflection of it, her hand resting against it, fingers dragging over it until they sat only against her chest. She registered the pain then, pressing her hand over her heart and wincing. She was afraid this was all some sort of dream. That this happiness was an illusion. That at any moment the curtain would fall, the glass would shatter, and she would realize she’d been the fool all along.

Pushing to her feet with some effort, one hand going under the swell of her pregnant stomach, the other leaning onto the vanity, she moved across carpeted floors to stare down at her dress. Unconventional in every sense. Not that she had any intention of being a snow white bride —- yet, perhaps she had gone out of her way to defy expectation. A small smirk tugged at her lips as she lifted it, delicately working the zipper along the side down until she could ease out the delicate fabric. It would be ideal to not be seven months pregnant when doing this, or wearing any sort of gown, but a touch of magic — prior to her self-asserted promise — had ensured it would look as becoming as possible despite her bulging waist line. 

Her door was only half shut, but Henry had promised to keep guard to be certain the husband-to-be didn’t find himself victim to impatience and come barging in, dooming their union with bad luck before it could even begin. She let out a small sigh, and pushed out of the robe she wore, having donned it before any hair or makeup had been seen to, not wanting to undo any of her efforts. Below the robe she wore new lingerie, black lace, highly impractical to a pregnant woman, but it wasn’t exactly for her benefit, either. Around her thigh, the deep blue garter pressed a white line into her skin, waiting to be pulled away, and — were she and Jefferson in any way so wholesome — signify her belonging to him in both the emotional and carnal sort of ways. 

It was then she saw to stepping into her gown, careful not to trip herself or rip anything, especially when easing the tight material over her stomach. Yet, it fit just as well as it had the day she’d gotten it, and the four times after that wherein she had tried it on, just to be sure it was still good enough. Once it was zipped and smoothed, she turned back to her mirror, letting out a long sigh,  the remnants of a pent up breath, held in some unrealized anticipation. She didn’t feel as though she was looking at herself. The woman she saw was happy. Had everything she could possibly dream of. It was surreal to think this was actually happening. To her. For her. That this was something she could truly have.

Wife. The last time she’d been called that, she would have more readily spat in the face of the man to call her that, and now she found herself anxious to have it be the only thing she could be named by the man in her life. She loved him. She’d loved him for some time, even if that love had been forgotten. Stored away. Poisoned and twisted for a time. He’d never given back the parts of her he’d stolen. He took them away, leaving only the rot and the festering hatred and darkness behind. Perhaps that was why she felt so complete with him. With Jefferson she had those things back. Without him she was only bitter and angry. Lonely and afraid. She hadn’t been a particularly good mother to Henry, but she believed he had helped her remember how to love. How to put someone else before herself. How to be human again. Because of Henry, and with Jefferson, she thought, perhaps, she didn’t have to be a monster at all anymore. Perhaps she truly could just be Regina.

Turning away from the mirror, she carefully found her veil, black of course, and fixed it into her hair, followed by slipping on the heels she would wear for the procession only. Much as she did enjoy the added height, and boost to her physique, the aches of pregnancy demanded they only be worn sparingly. She was ready. She was ready to be someone’s wife again. Perhaps for the first time, even. She had never been anything to Leopold. Nothing he would want, nor did she possess any desire to please him or love him. This would be different. This time, it was her choice. This time, it was a life she could want. A life she did want. Perhaps she would still suffer the consequence of her own design, but she would not being do so alone anymore.

As she picked up her bouquet, as dark and unconventional as her dress, she lifted a single red rose from a vase near her bed. A symbol. Evidence of her hidden sentimentality, and she fixed it into the center of the floral arrangement. From one beginning to the next, she mused, turning on her obscenely and all together too tall heel, and walked out of the bedroom, down the hall and descended the stairs where her son stood waiting. She walked bravely onward to meet her new fate.


If I am ignoring you, I apologize. I become distracted and will focus on one thing a while. Sometimes I’m just emotionally overwhelmed and I have to lay down for a while. I’m not ignoring you because it’s you it’s because life is distracting and hard and so sometimes I just need to stop talking to people and sometimes I do that suddenly.



"Have  my  devilishly handsome good looks
and charm finally rendered you speechless,
your highness?”

               He knows he’s asking for it, but what fun is
               there to be had in this town if he can’t very
               well irritate the woman?

       ”You may charm your fair share of wenches and whores
        with that unwashed allure of yours, captain, but it hardly
        works on me. I prefer men who are actually aware of the
        many  uses of  soap.”



           ——See? And that’s how I remember
              my first ice cream being like.          Questions?

         ”My only question is just what color
          do   little   green  G N A T S   bleed?”