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


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if i was your vampire ; victorian au


Jefferson’s smile was as genuine as he was capable of when she digressed, though he had no thought that she would say anything else. He had made certain she would not — a skill that at times was the sole reason for his fortune in life, or more accurately in death, and she was certainly a fortune to behold. But unlike money that is metal and meaningless to most, she was the kind that you give life and limb for — he imagined — as he’d never actually experienced such a feeling. But he saw in her what could easily develop into so many feelings that he’d never cared to have before.

In her he saw things that even life had kept from him. That when death came behind glistening teeth he cursed for not having been afforded to him. He deserved more, and when death was the thing to afford him rebirth — he used it to take most of which he had not been given the chance for. But death had yet to bring him anything like her.

"Of course," he answered her with a wider grin, his grip slipping away from her to allow her space to run. He lifted his hat just enough to keep the rain from hitting him in the face as he moved further out from the umbrella’s reach, though he did not yet run for fear of splashing her.

"After you," he said with a final curl of his lips.

His happiness at her concession was in a way infectious, making her own smile wider and brighter. Perhaps she’d let too much of her mother’s influence sway her. She was here and she was free. No more good behavior for the sake of acceptance. She looked anxious, nervous and excited when he released her, but a darting gaze from their destination back to him kept her from dashing ahead. She would not have him out here, catching his death of a cold while she ran ahead of him.

Whatever he was, whoever lived behind those stormy blue eyes and enigmatic features, she didn’t know. She had no idea what he saw in her, or why things had unfurled as they had. But perhaps it was not to be questioned. Maybe she was meant to see it as a gift granted by fate and enjoy it. Mr. Davenport was kind to her where none had been earned. Generous to one of little status by comparison. She was barely a woman, but in his presence she felt more than just a girl. This… was it. This chilly, rain soaked twilight was her freedom. And oh, how she wished to run.

Holding out a stubborn hand, she gave her best smile for the reluctant apprehension she still felt churning in her gut and moved closer with the umbrella. Her cheeks ached from the grin she wore, and her corset made the deep breaths she was taking somewhat pained, but her racing heart overwhelmed it all as her hand waited, bridging the gap between them. Waiting. Hopeful.

”Together,” she insisted.


I can’t handle this , unffff

if i was your vampire ; victorian au


A laugh left his lips like a foreign object — haughty and louder than he’d intended at her worrying for his health. Though the closer she came the less and less he found the situation at all funny, and the idea that she might wish to end their stroll already, ignited a fire deep beneath his skin. A spark flickered through Jefferson’s eyes, a burst of life from a most undead place within him — a fear, almost, that he was losing her before he truly had her. And though it had not been his intent to employ any such influence on her so soon or at all — if rain were enough to scare her away he quite simply had no other choice.

"Must you?" He asked in a lower register, a haze coming in to his eyes only for the length of a blink — but its purpose and power went far beyond the faint show that it gave. He leaned down ever so slightly, just enough to come closer to her until all other sound around them would fade out of her hearing. He wished only for her to stay with him, enjoy the rest of their walk, and then he would let her go as she pleased. There was no harm in it at all really.

"I think you’ll find the protection of the gazebo to be more than you’d expect," he ended his suggestion over her at that, released her from his metaphorical grip though the physical hold he still had on her arm did not falter. He smiled down at her as though nothing had happened, tipping his hat up out of his eyes a little more, to let their connection with hers stay without interruption.

"Perhaps just a little longer?"

Regina wasn’t sure what was so amusing about him falling ill, or why her concern might be met with such scorn. Her smile did falter, but an inner voice argued in his favor, saying surely he had meant no offense. When he spoke, however her smile vanished completely, eyes going wide and lips parting just so. She, of course, did not realize what was being done to her. She merely found herself suddenly mesmerized, rooted both in position and focus. His eyes holding her gaze unblinking, obedient and captivated. Time moved slower and he grew more enigmatic both in presence and appearance, the proximity between them shrank yet she was of no mind to admonish his impropriety. Some small part of her was afraid, and aware of the way her limbs and mind froze beneath his gaze, but its warnings were as useless as a man screaming his message from one shore of a sea to the other.

When the haze left her, Regina gasped deeply, feeling a creeping prickling of the skin on the back of her neck. The cold of the rain chilled air, of course. Yet despite him having not spoken at all to her memory since his bout of laughter, her awkward smile returned, then grew a touch more genuine as he implored her further. Somehow all her previous doubt was muted out by the very clear thought that perhaps she was being hasty. The gazebo was clearly sturdy, all that lay beneath it dry and inviting.

"I suppose it would not hurt, " she conceded, unaware of how her own will had been manipulated. "But we should move quickly, for I fear my feet are already soaked to the stocking."


My internet is out until a technician can come out, Monday at the earliest. So… no replies until it’s back. I’ll be on kik til then. It’s the same as url.

if i was your vampire ; victorian au


The warmth that had encircled his arm enveloped his side as she pressed against him. Even through her coat he could feel it, radiating from her, a heavy air of heat that even a fireplace could not boast. It was a cold existence he lived, and she was anything but cold. A warmth that came from deep within, not just from the blood that pumped through her veins.

She was kind in a way he couldn’t recall any other had been — no falsity in her words or gaze, she was not the type to fawn over him how other women did, hoping someone so young and rich as him would keep them how they desired. She was different — breathtaking — where before it had been him to steal a woman’s breath right from her throat. And though he could not see hers, he could hear the pulse below her skin, hear the flow of how it kept her alive and were he alive — he would wonder if she were what kept him so.

A small smile spread across Jefferson’s features as the rain came down heavier around them, droplets sliding down the arm not in hers, that couldn’t quite make it under the shelter she offered. “I think it has,” he spoke, no puff of warm air to speak of, though he did not think on it, or worry that she would notice. Worry was the last thing he was capable of — why worry when you have a smile like that shining up at you despite the cold. Despite his cold. That much like her warmth was indelibly deeper than his exterior suggested.

"But I say we shouldn’t let it —" he said his words teasingly, uncharacteristic had she known him long enough to see so. "There’s a gazebo just further into the garden if you’d like to sit out the storm," he pointed in the general direction though he did not tear his eyes from her to see how accurate he’d been. He cared not for weathering a storm or finding beauty in its chaos — only in not losing time with her over something so silly as water.

Dark eyes shone brightly, finding delight in doing something so childish as standing in the rain. Not only would her dress be ruined, there was also risk of catching a chill. All risks she found herself gladly taking. If her lot in life henceforth was to be a governess to the boys, scarcely having any life to call her own, then she wished to have just this one moment of frivolity to see her through. She shivered noticeably, but still wore a wide smile as she remained huddled closely to the mysterious Mr. Davenport.

"We will become soaked for the journey," she pointed out when his offer was made, her gaze craning to see the gazebo in question. Sense would tell her no. To get inside. Warm and dry. Yet a nameless hesitation towards both decisions stayed her words. "And I fear I am doing nothing at all for your protection," she grimaced. She could see how the rain soaked him despite her umbrella’s best intentions. Huddling immediately closer, she tried standing on her tiptoes to hold the parasol higher. "You will fall ill and Mary shall never forgive me."

Being so close to him now tinted her cheeks pink, and woke her from whatever stupor had previously robbed her of her sensibility. Of course it would be terribly inappropriate to accept such an offer. Not to mention foolish. She would be useless if she were ill. “Perhaps I should go back,” she spoke quietly, gaze fixed on his though not quite so hypnotically. Her words were meek and uncertain. Conflicted at best. “Not to insult your hospitality, of course, but I doubt the Holts have use of a feverish nanny to watch over their sons.”

Queen Lana Parrilla — Premiere Screening

The magic of Troy Jensen

My internet is out until a technician can come out, Monday at the earliest. So… no replies until it’s back. I’ll be on kik til then. It’s the same as url.


A small quirk of a smile pulled at Jefferson’s lips, actually finding her teasing of his less than savory ways to be something he liked.

"In part —" he told her, "but there are some with even fewer morals than I possess, who’ve harbored grudges they wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see me pay for."

He spoke casually about the many threats on his life that he’d heard throughout his traveling, how many lands he should not revisit if he intended to leave still in one piece. But it was that recklessness that had gotten him where he was, maybe even brought him here, with her, if he believed in any such thing called fate, he would wonder if it had intended something more for him, something she was the first to be willing to provide him — trust, and kindness, and a reason to have it in himself too.

A laugh escaped him at the way she surveyed the hill, as though it were a small mountain, and it turned into a waning sigh when she spoke.


"Would you prefer I carried you?" He half-joked, though the moment he said it there was a sinking realization that if that was what she wanted, it was what he was going to do. Since when did he cater so easily to anyone else’s needs? Ah — of course — somewhere around the time he’d met her.

A small crease formed above Regina’s nose at his confession, wondering just what all he might have done to deserve such vengeful unforgivenenss from others. Somehow she didn’t think theft alone would do it. A hundred curiosities poised themselves at the tip of her tongue, yet she withheld them all. Biting them back just in case whatever he told her might ruin how she saw him. She quite liked him, more than just a lot, actually. She wanted to think nothing could taint her admiration. Adoration, even, but she knew well enough that the world beyond her purview was not always such soft shades of grey, and maybe ignorance truly was bliss. Rather than press the matter, she only gave him a faint smile, and turned her attention back to the steeply daunting hill.

Regina’s confidence waned by the second as she looked up at it, and when he spoke, she nearly accepted without a moment’s hesitation. But —- no. She couldn’t allow herself to be some useless burden to him. And she certainly was not so inept she needed carrying. She… simply thought it would be wiser to find some way around the hill. Or to have just brought along the stallion to begin with. A wary smile soon turned slightly more certain as she released his hand, and took a dauntless step towards the hill.

"No —- you don’t need to do that. I’ll be," Regina paused, three steps up the hill, and already losing her footing enough to tumble forward and catch herself with her hands against the incline. Her cheeks burned bright red, but at least that he wouldn’t see. As for the rest of her miserable failure… well, he was standing right behind her. Clearing her throat, and slowly trying to stand once more and regain some balance and dignity, Regina took another step upwards, determined not to have to crawl her way to the top.

Taking in a deep breath, she exhaled it with a confidence she did not in any way feel. “I’ll be fine.” She declared at last, finally finishing the thought left stranded back where she had lost her pride.


           “But, of course, Your Majesty. A queen must
     not show fear to such creatures, nor affection.
     Nor the slightest hint at romance. I do not
     pretend that in your current status you have
     retained the girlish charms that once bid you
     blush at my antics, but you did once, Regina.”

                   [  His body moved from hers, releasing her
           wrists and curling his fingers into her palms
           curiously. She had grown considerably since
           their first meeting and these fingers were not
           the soft virgin hands of a woman untried. There
           was some lament to her change and he was
           gentle as he stepped in front of her, hand still
           in hers but gentler now. His thumb stroked over
           her knuckles once and a long sigh heaved from his lips.  ]


       “Such a beautiful girl, eager to smile and
                   happy for a laugh. There are days when I
                   see her in you. Days I don’t miss her as
                                           d  e  s  p  e  r  a  t  e  l  y.”

       [ His words are like fire. Burning, and lapping at her,
        but causing no true harm, yet —- when he speaks further
        she feels a twinge of pain twist through her chest. A hard
        lump swallowed back as a familiar shield of callous and
        anger mask the w e a k n e s s  that threatens to overwhelm.
        Her eyes glisten with tears, but her brow creases deeply with
        wrath. Scorn pouring out as she rips her hands from his
        grip with a sudden need to not be touched. To not be reminded.

           She steps further away now, fighting to keep his words from
           having their desired effect. She knows all too well he means
          little of what he says, nor has he ever. It is her foolish heart
          that still wishes to believe him that is the trouble.]


                                          ”Save your sentimental drivel for someone who
                                        will buy it,” the words are bitter, hoarse and rough.
                                       ”That girl you pretend to care so much about has 
                                        long since been gone. Much in thanks to you, in
                                        fact. Do not act as if you ever cared, or that you
                                        didn’t relish in my corruption.”

               [ a sneer twists her features, turning then into
              a half-mad grin. A smile that reflected no true
              joy or amusement. A wicked pretense of mockery
              only. ]

                                     ”Though if you’re truly looking for a last
                                     chance at romance with ME, I do pity your
                                      plight, d e a r.”




"Let me guess? You’re here to confess your
 undying love to me, aren’t you? Well, sorry
 to disappoint you, sweet-cheeks, but my
 heart is already taken by this beauty here.”
 He said as he lifted his drink.

          “As revolting as your habits are, and given what
           they clearly do to your already lacking intellect,
           I would think you could at least muster the
           courtesy enough to  R I S E  for your queen.”



His body stretches itself out.  Vertebrae settling
back into place with snaps, cracks - the kind of
throbbing ache that feels as pleasant as it does
agonizing.  Drawing a nerve lighting sigh from
his lips as he slowly, surely, lowers his body to
rest sore muscles. 


     ”My bench.”

 The voice comes as a none-too-delicate
 clearing of the throat, as her lithe figure 
 stands in stark and dark contrast to the
 dull haze of the cloudy day around them.
 She  lifts  an eyebrow, with  both  arms
 crossed over her chest.

                            “That is my seat,” she informs
                  flatly, her voice raspy and sharp.