whasupwhereitis

[whasupwhereitis]

Demon hunters catch Beelzebub. Rescue and/or comfort after escape. Beelzebub/Michael.

where the strength has gone

The heavenly upgraded mobile phone in Michael's pocket began to vibrate. To an outside observer the only indication that Michael felt the buzzbuzzbuzz in her pocket would have been the brief tap of her fingers against the table in front of her. No one was observing her though. Gabriel was so wrapped up in the sound of his own voice and the sheer glory of his own brilliance that Michael thought she could even whip the mobile out and answer it and he wouldn't notice.

Gabriel had been introduced to a projector, a particularly obtrusive model from the 1990's that clashed terribly with the aesthetic of heaven, at some point within the last one hundred years and was now showing Michael his detailed battle strategy for the upcoming Apocalypse. They were not terrible plans, Michael granted the other angel at least that much, but they relied too heavily on assumption. The largest assumption of all being that no matter what, no matter what the demons in the basement might do, that the side of heaven would win. To voice such a thing as that would be to show doubt. Doubt in the Great Plan. Doubt in God. And so Michael remained silent, but she knew what strength lay with the damned ones.

The demons were not the mindless and ridiculous bunch that Gabriel so often accused them of being. Michael had fought them. Gabriel had fought them and how quickly he had forgotten. She had fought them so long ago, such a bitter and terrible war that ended with so many gone forever and more evicted from heaven. Michael's victory as God's general had been costly.

The mobile stopped buzzing for all of thirty seconds before it went off again.

Those that knew the mobile number were few, especially as it wasn't so much a 'mobile' as it was a conduit through space and dimension that existed solely because of Michael's sheer will and it wasn't so much a 'number' as it was that the dialer needed a strong enough and clear enough will to speak to Michael. Michael could count the amount of incoming calls she'd had over the span of her existence on one hand.

"Gabriel," she interrupted.

"Hm?" he responded and did not look up from where he was attempting to draw the terrain of the fields of Megiddo.

"I have an appointment with...the cherubs."

"Oh, yes, of course," Gabriel looked up at her with a haughty smile. Everything about him oozed such arrogance. Those violet eyes of his were already looking right through her. "We'll pick this back up when you can focus a bit more."

"Right."

Michael was able to hold off her eye roll until she turned her back on Michael and walked four steps away. She found some privacy in the closest stairwell.

"This is Michael," she answered.

As it was not truly a 'mobile', but a conduit through space and dimension, it brought more to Michael then merely sound. It brought the smell of hell, which smells of sulfur and rot. It brought the feeling of suffering and clawing and cloying desperation. It brought the sound of dripping pipes and sinners screams and the cackles of demons and even somewhere down there was the faint sound of someone strumming a guitar.

"Who am I speaking to?" Michael demanded.

"It's Dagon."

Michael blinked. She licked her lips and blinked again. "What do you want?" The strumming in the background, somewhere deep in hell, turned into the chords for Yesterday. They really did have all of humanities best musicians down there, Michael thought resentfully. After moments of Dagon's silence Michael huffed. "I said, what do you want?" Michael spat.

"Someone summoned Beelzebub," Dagon finally said.

Michael could hear panic in her voice. Dagon had been an incredible warrior, brave and courageous, who served Michael well…before the war. Before the Fall. "What of it?" Michael asked.

"It was a trick. They're demon hunters. American."

"American. That's a bad stroke of luck there." Michael nodded curtly at a passing angel and waited for them to stroll down the stairs before she continued. "I don't quite understand why you're involving me in your drama though." Michael scoffed and shook her head. What Beelzebub did to these demon hunters was no business of Michael's. Although the knowledge that Beelzebub had been lured in by some lowly human trick gave Michael sick delight. A mighty Prince of Hell. Right hand to Lucifer himself. Tricked by humans. How the mighty truly do Fall.

A sense of Dagon herself came through the mobile. Dagon, with her silver scales and pointed teeth. Dagon, with her eyebrows pinched together as she huddled in the corner of a dark and moldy room. Surprising compassion stirred in Michael. "Why are you calling me?" Michael asked and tried to tone down the hostility in her voice.

"She can't escape on her own and I can't go to her. I’ve tried."

Michael scoffed audibly. "Beelzebub? Needs my help? Now this is the trick."

"They're on holy ground. They have her in blessed chains. They've nailed an iron crucifix to her sternum and driven iron stakes through her palms."

While the imagery was horrific, Michael did not feel the acute need to jump to the rescue. She still somewhat thought that Beelzebub could still make it out of all that on her own. "What else?"

The hesitant silence from Dagon would have been enough to make Michael's heart race, if she had been in a corporeal form at the moment.

"They have Holy water. Real Holy water. They say they will douse her at dawn."

Michael was stunned into silence at that. She worked her jaw and flexed her hand around the bannister. "Where did they get real Holy water?" she asked. "How are you aware of this? Hm? Do you have a hostage negotiation team I've not been aware of?"

Dagon hissed down into the connection. "Holy water comes from one place. So one of your kind is giving humans weapons they have no idea the magnitude of. Imagine if they poured that Holy water into the fucking ocean, Michael. This is just as much a matter of your security as it is anything else. So help me. Go to that place, find out who their source is and free Beelzebub."

"As if I'd rescue a demon," Michael snarled. "Holy water is just what she deserves. It's what you all deserve. You're traitorous sc-"

"But you were," Dagon hesitated. The limits of speech as humans would describe it seemed to befuddle her for a moment. "You were friends," she said simply.

Michael flinched like she'd been struck and was filled with rage and malice the likes of which she hadn't felt since…since God displayed her displeasure in fire and brimstone and flood. Michael shook her head and trilled out a sound she couldn't contain as she battled all the emotion down. "That was before," Michael said just as simply. Before the war. Before the Fall.

She hung up.

__________________

The Holy water is what eventually forced her hand. Real Holy water in the hands of humans. It was so absurd it was laughable, but the mere idea that one of her forces, an angel under her nose, had given it to a human needed to be investigated- no matter how implausible.

Finding Beelzebub was not as hard as Michael had imagined it would be. She stood before the floating globe in an immense white room and closed her eyes and let her Being, her Essence, her tendrils of awareness seep out over the continents and seas.

She was in America. In an abandoned church in a nearly abandoned town.

It was…as Dagon had described.

Hearing of it was one thing, but it was entirely another to witness the tortures inflicted upon Beelzebub. Her corporeal form was that of a small statured woman, which Michael had never particularly thought of as fragile before now. They had stripped her. Hosed her down. Nailed that crucifix to her chest. Shackled her. Hammered iron spikes through her palms and into the floor. They had gouged out her eyes. When the Great War was upon angels and demons such things as this would not be sanctioned under Michael's command. Such cruelty was beneath her. It was beneath any angel.

But to do all this, Michael thought, they must first have had to incapacitate her in a way that Michael couldn't even comprehend. Beelzebub was as strong as Michael, and as strong as Gabriel, some even said as strong as Lucifer himself. How well Michael remembered the power Beelzebub wielded.

Michael observed the abandoned church in which Beelzebub was held with a critical eye. There was the Holy water, shining brightly upon the dilapidated Eucharist, held in a thermos that showed the logo for a local auto repair shop on its front.

And there was the man of God that blessed the chains and spikes and crucifix.

There were eight men in total. Humans, Michael seethed, these so called demon hunters wearing baseball caps and flannel.

"How did you do it?" Michael mused to herself as she looked down upon the Earth. She tapped a finger against her closed lips.

Michael waited for only a while longer, observing the men and the church and Beelzebub. Beelzebub who remained stoically and frighteningly quiet throughout that time. The men came and screamed at her of her sin, they had branded her with symbols of the Lord and demanded that she beg forgiveness. As if it were the place of human men to punish a demon. Michael seethed at the mere idea. Men had kicked and stomped on her until bones snapped. Men had spit on her. And she had said and done nothing in return.

“Why don’t you fight?” Michael seethed and turned away from the globe in disgust, only to turn back a second later.

_____________________

"Beelzebub," Michael whispered and knelt next to the demon sprawled and chained to the floor. With a wave of Michael's hand the chains and the iron spikes through her hands were gone. "Sit up now."

Beelzebub groaned. It was the first sound Michael had heard her make since she had first been able to track her. "What are you doing here?" Beelzebub croaked and coughed.

"I said sit up!" Michael snapped and hauled at the meat of Beelzebub's bicep until the demon was draped across Michael rather than the floor. "What did they do to you?" Michael hissed as she dug her fingernails under the crucifix and tore it out from Beelzebub's chest and placed it down next to them.

Michael grabbed a fistful of Beelzebub's black hair at the base of her neck and forced her head up. Michael gasped and the horror she felt wash over her froze her for a second. She stuttered back into motion and gently placed her forehead against the demons. Michael now saw the full ruin of Beelzebub's eyes. A demon, or an angel even also, were not just their corporeal forms, they went Beyond what one could see and touch and smell. So it was not just the physical ruin of Beelzebub's eyes that forced Michael to such shock. "What did they use? How did they do this?!" These human men, lowly humans, below angels and demons, had taken Beelzebub's Sight. They had ripped into her very being, her being Beyond what mortals were meant to touch or see, and ripped out her Sight. One can regrow eyes, but Sight...

“Get up,” Michael urged and stood and hauled and dragged at Beelzebub’s naked and limp form. “Get up I said!” Her plan had been to heal what she could of the demon and then approach the humans and learn of which angel gave them the Holy water, but now, and not for the first time, Michael thought there was more here then she’d first surmised. She would retreat with the demon. She would observe the humans more carefully. She would return with greater numbers.

Beelzebub found the strength in her legs to stand. One hand clutched at Michael’s arm. The blood of her corporeal form was warm and tacky against Michael’s skin. It stained her clothes.

When Michael tried to take a step she very suddenly found her whole body rigidly frozen and unmovable.

A laugh carried through the air around the angel and the demon. “Now, now, a guest doesn’t just leave without goodbyes. Do they?”

[whasupwhereitis]

fanfic moodboard   | #inspiredbyoq day 5 | fester by @whasupwhereitis

Regina lets the wounds on her arm fester. She leaves them be, night after night, staring at them, dark eyes empty, breath easy, and she could be sleeping, if she weren’t in so much pain. But henry is gone, her baby, and the pain will never go away. Infection is no laughing matter, and when Roland witnesses her fall to her fever, it’s his father he runs too

[whasupwhereitis]

Your lucky we even still care about your writing. I barely even remember half your stories so it's pretty ludicrous of you to think people are going to reread your stuff just to understand the updates. Should have finished them sooner. Sorry.

i don’t even know what to say. i know there are people out there that want to see the stories finished.

[whasupwhereitis]

Fester

Chapter 52

“Hello, Regina.”

Regina blinks. She breathes deeply in and looks around. They are ...outside and everything around is lush and green and verdant in a way that Regina recognizes as not real. But she blinks again...and she forgets.

“Who are you,” Regina says with a shake of her head.

A woman stands in front of her, a short woman wearing a shade of lavender that pops beautifully against her dark skin. She is dark like the night sky, and twice as beautiful. She smiles. “It’s alright, I get lost sometimes too. It is part of the curse.”

A violent slam of memories shoves itself like an icepick behind Regina’s eye, she flinches and gasps. And then she blinks, but she doesn’t quite forget. “The...curse?” she breathes. She digs for one of those violent memories, diving deep into her brain and it is so, so hard to swim through with every breath of this sweet ancient air breathed in. “The curse,” she says once she’s caught it. Her sister, the green bitch, and the curse that had taken them back to Storybrooke, the curse that had meant to rip her happiness apart, the curse that had meant to rip her baby from her. Her baby, where-

The woman nods, and laughs, a sound so sweet. “I’m afraid we all have our own curses, it is usually the fate of those like us.”

Regina blinks, both her hands over her belly, her belly is flat, why should that feel so strange? “Like us?” Regina questions. She takes a step forward over soft ground. The air smells so sweet and this world is so green.

“Witches,” the woman says. She has deep dark eyes, and hair that is a crowning glory around her head. “The dead ones curse us for what they say we stole.” Her smile dims sadly, “but perhaps such things belong to a different time. I can’t remember now, did I defeat the dead ones?” She lets out a soft laugh with a shake of her head and says, “but if that were so who would have cursed me?”

“I’m confused,” Regina breathes, she cinches her eyes shut and still her hands are flat over her flat belly. Robin, where is Robin-

The woman steps towards her and raises a hand in the air between them. A shining gem pops into existence above her palm. Regina can feel the heat and light of the gem and she opens her eyes to see. “This is my heart,” the woman says with her head tilting to study it.

For only a flash it’s not a gem at all, not an enchanted heart either, for just a moment, a slice of a second, it is a pulpy mess of muscle that oozes thick blood onto the woman’s palm until it overruns and streams down to the ancient dark soil beneath them.

Regina blinks. There’s a shining gem in the woman’s hand. “You’ve placed my heart inside you, Regina. Even the Ancient Darkness only wore me in a pouch on his belt,” the woman says with a soft smile. She has kind eyes and a beauty that is otherworldly. “There is great power here that you must only embrace.”

“I...need to defeat my sister,” Regina takes a deep breath and tries to think, she tries to remember.

“Embrace me,” the woman says.

Regina looks inwards and swallows hard. She and Granny had arrived at the vault. They’d descended the hard stone stairs. There had been pain lancing across Regina’s lower back but she’d ignored it- Granny showed her the gem. The heart. Regina had held it and sunk it into her chest-

“All the power that was mine, will be yours. I was the strongest witch of my age, of any age. Think of the power. It will fill your blood with strength. Take my heart.”

Regina shakes her head minutely. “Who are you?”

“My name is…” the woman trails off and for the first time some turmoil appears behind her eyes. She frowns and looks down at the gem in her hand (it is a heart, blood gushes from it, where does the blood pump from, blood, so much blood, a river of it, blood red like the iron banks of the Weeping in the enchanted forest, Regina will drown in it.)

Regina blinks and a light from within the gem shines and shines and reflects in Regina’s eyes.

“I suppose I had a name,” the woman says. Her voice is quiet. “I had a mother, and many sisters who must have called to me. I had a beautiful wife with a shining soul and she called me-” the woman flinches. “I can’t remember now. It’s been so long.”

There’s a fog over Regina’s mind. Something in the sweet air makes her want to gag.

“I am of the past,” the woman with a name no one remembers says. “But I can help you with your future. You’ve already made the choice, Regina, you placed my heart within you, but you cannot have my power without embracing me.”

Regina shakes herself, “What does that mean? To embrace you?”

“After you use my power and remove my heart from within you, I can leave this place. I can be at peace after so, so long.”

“But what does it mean?” Regina asks.

“My soul is tethered here, to this mortal thing that was torn from me so many millennia ago.” She squeezes her fingers around the heart in her hand, it gives a squelch and gushes blood. “To embrace me would transfer my soul to you, and when your time of need is done I ask you to free me.”

“Your soul is tethered?” Regina remembers from so long ago, another tethered soul. She shakes her head. “I am not strong enough to free you.” Thaemtonum, a spell her sister cast- her sister, where is she. Regina can’t see from the fog in her mind- “Thaemtonum is only a spell I’ve read of in old books, I can’t even know if what you’re saying is truth-”

The woman laughs, “Spells have names now?” she asks in confusion. “And hold such rigid rules apparently. It is unnatural to put limits on yourself, Regina, your power comes from within you and is limitless.”

Regina falters. She is not strong enough to beat Zelena on her own. Zelena is the stronger witch. The sweet air is in her brain.

“Would you...be able to control me?” Regina asks.

“Of course not,” the woman assures.

There are no words needed, for as soon as the decision is made up in Regina’s mind the world around them melts away, like a facade made of wax. The verdant green and healthy soul melts in viscous clumps to reveal the horrible prison it really is. It is cold, so cold. It is wet and dripping, and vile creatures scutter over Regina’s feet and squirm and pull in her hair. A crushing weight falls in Regina’s lungs as the sweet air leaves and underneath she can smell the rotting stench and standing before her is no longer the beautiful dark skinned woman but what remains of her. Her skin is bloated and discolored. The soft tissue of her mouth has been eaten away and her teeth look shockingly white against the horror. Her mouth does not move. “Embrace me.” She launches herself at Regina.

Regina’s feet are stuck. Her body will not move. The gem is now a rotten thing, not a heart at all, it is a rotten mass of sludge that is grey and green and toxic. It stinks. Regina gags and lifts a hand with great effort, but it’s all worth nothing when the corpse steps in close and slams what had once been a heart through Regina’s skin and ribs and muscle and leaves the mess there in her chest cavity.

The scream that tears from her mouth reverberates in the vault.

“Regina!” Granny yells and grabs her shoulders.

Regina’s eyes open wide. Her fingers come up to claw at her chest.

“Girl, what is it?!”

And then Regina stops. She exhales and starts to shake. It’s like she’d standing on a live wire. The power she suddenly feels makes her dizzy. Her hands come up to her face and she threads her fingers back into her hair. Her pupils are wide.

Granny shakes her, “Tell me what’s going on!” she demands.

“I’m alright.” Regina shakes and shakes, tremors under skin. The power in her blood makes her heart beat beat BEAT against in her chest.

The baby kicks.

Regina cradles her belly and soothes the little foot still pressed against taut skin. “It’s alright,” she repeats.

“You screamed like you were dying! Is the baby alright?”

“The baby is fine,” Regina assures her. Her voice is vague. It’s like she is far away. The power in her blood thrums through her brain. The power makes he forget the horror of seconds ago. Rumple had worn the heart on his belt and destroyed a castle with nothing but a thought. Regina has the heart within her and she could destroy the world. Every breath feels alive. She is gone from Granny’s hands in a cloud of smoke.

Granny screams after her, but Regina can’t hear.

Regina appears in Snow’s loft and barely registers the three shocked faces that greet her. She needn’t even raise her hand to snare Zelena in a sudden and incredible grip that tears Zelena from the chair she’d been sitting in. Zelena gasps, the grip on her tightens and and her lungs are empty. She starts to fight desperately, but it truly is completely useless.

Snow is screaming Regina’s name. Regina turns her head to glance at her. “I-” but whatever Regina was going to say is gone. The power inside her doesn’t let her speak. Regina still shakes, and she doesn’t need to, but she raises her hand before her, with her fingers gently curved. Zelena slams down into the floor without a sound escaping her mouth, her legs break with audible snaps. Zelena’s eyes are already bulging. Broken capillaries in her eyes shine bright red. She can’t breath.

Emma steps between Regina and Zelena. Her hands are raised. “Whoa, you can slow your roll,” Emma says.

Regina shakes her head, but even with the foreign power inside her she knows she can’t merely sweep Emma aside. Emma. Henry’s...mother. His other mother. Regina blinks and her hold on Zelena loosens enough for the other woman to draw in a breath.

“I-” Regina shakes her head. Blood is rushing through her head so loud.

Emma takes a step forward. “Regina, I think you got this under control.” Her tone is calm, a forced calm just like if a perp had pulled a gun on her. “Hey, can you tell me what’s up? How are you-”

Zelena tries to lash out with magic, the attempt would have been enough to knock Regina on her ass...before. But now all it does is annoy her and with a snarl Regina smashes Zelena out through the window and then back in. Snow screams and jumps as Zelena is cut to ribbons and begins to bleed. The sounds she makes talk more of anger than pain. “You bitch,” Zelena gurgles. “You- you fucking bitch.”

The glass from the broken windows rises up from the floor. Emma takes another step forward and reaches out to touch Regina’s arm. “Regina, can you please take a breath and talk to me? I’m not into torturing people.”

“I’m-”

Emma squeezes softly on the meat of Regina’s arm and the glass drops back down with a crash. “Yeah, you’re alright. You’ve got her under control. Take a breath.”

Regina takes a deep breath. The heart beats so strongly in her chest that it hurts. Zelena dangles in the air a foot of the ground, her broken legs hang grotesquely.

“You’re glowing and you’re hair is floating all over like you’re underwater. I don’t know what you did, Regina, but you’re freaking me out,” Emma says.

“I am the heart of the kingdom,” Regina says. She chokes it out.

Snow gasps. Zelena titters out a cruel little noise, “You fool, you-”

Zelena gasps and her eyes are literally ripped out of her head. She screams and screams, the eyes are still attached by strands into her brain.

“NO!” Emma shakes Regina, “I mean it! I will not be a part of torturing anybody! Either kill her or leave her!”

Regina, she gasps suddenly. A little bit of her brain clears. She looks to Emma and her face twists. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Can you put them back in?” Emma says. She’s back to being calm.

In a moment Zelena’s eyes are right back where they belong. There’s no sign of trauma around her face at all. Tears leak out of those newly returned eyes and Zelena’s snarl looks more like she’s choking back a sob.

Regina takes a deep breath and snaps Zelena’s legs back together. Healing has never been her best skill, but the power she uses isn’t her own and it truly could do anything. She could destroy the world. She wants to destroy the world, gods how she wants to feel the blood of the world that had abandoned her run through her fingers she wants the world to bleed she wants to watch it burn, she could do it she could destroy the world- she could destroy it now- her power is limitless in this vessel she thought she’d never have a mortal form again, the blood in her veins feels warm and gushing and so so free, she could-

Emma turns to her mother. “How long since David texted you? Does he have Robin yet?”

Regina gasps. She shudders and nearly drops herself down on her knees. The grip on Zelena never loosens but Regina snaps the fog from her brain in an instant at the sound of Robin’s name. She’d been swallowed up. Thoughts and feelings that aren’t her own are invading her brain. Thinking of Robin helps. Feeling the baby kick helps.

“Oh god, Regina, what did you do?” Snow comes up beside her and hesitantly grips her forearm. “Is the baby alright?”

“The baby is fine,” Regina snarls.

Zelena laughs, bolder now. Tears are still wet on her cheeks. “Is this one going to make it then? I can’t understand how desperately you want some squealing brat attached to your tit.”

“You,” Emma rounds on her with a finger raised, “shut the fuck up.”

Zelena laughs, she sounds suddenly unhinged.

“Now tell me, was this a planned child or did your whorish ways get the better of you?”

Regina feels like she’s in an oven. There’s sharp pain in her back that she focuses on. The pain is hers, that pain is because of her daughter. The heart inside her is trying to suffocate her with pain from centuries ago. It almost overtook her. She can’t take the heart out yet. Zelena would escape.

Zelena wriggles uselessly and snarls at Snow. “There’s still time, you know. For you to run off to the the Blue Fairy. She’ll take care of this one like she did the rest. Wouldn’t it be better for the baby to die then to have a mother like this?”

“What are you saying?” Snow holds her phone in her hand and she’s desperately calling David again and again. He isn’t answering.

“What are you talking about?” Regina snarls, hand over her belly now, to comfort herself as much as to try to protect the life inside.

Zelena smiles a smile full of spite, her face pinched, those lovely blue eyes bloodshot and rimmed red. “You believed all those children died within you for no reason?”

Regina shakes her head, sharp little movements, she repeats her question, quieter, deadlier. Tears are growing in her eyes and she refuses to acknowledge them, even in her own head, but they are angry tears, the result of too much all too soon. The heart inside her is powerful but it’s pain too, centuries of a dead woman’s agony and sadness, the more Regina holds it in her body, the more she succumbs to it, the more her own pain blinds her. And here Zelena is talking of one of the worst pains of her life.

Zelena’s lip sneers up. “You would have been a mother how many times over?” She scoffs. “Three little needy brats, or four?”

“Don’t you talk about them,” Regina spits out. Her hand moves to strike again in another loss of control that would have ended with Zelena’s head snapped clean off her body, but it’s Emma that grabs her to restrain her.

“Your children were murdered.” Zelena looks down at Regina’s bump, and rolls her eyes, she’s still fighting the magic that will never let her go.

Emma, “Regina, let’s set up a cell with some- wards or something and dump her in there. There’s gotta be a way to hold her. Alright, we have to talk about what to do with her. You’ve done a good job. Come on, talk to me.”

Regina hasn’t heard a word. “Murdered?” Regina repeats, with her voice quavering. The heart inside her has seen her weakness. She’s beyond controlling herself, she’d spent so long wanting those children, and then mourning them, she’d spent so long living with the absolute pain of thinking she was toxic, that her womb was toxic, that it was her and her love was what killed those babies. Her babies. The blue boy is called up from the depths of her mind, the beautiful son that had never made a sound. The heart inside her screeches out a terrible sound and another baby, a beautiful dark skinned baby flashes in Regina’s brain. She feels the pain, she’d lost so much too, the urge to destroy itches at Regina’s fingers.

“The Blue bitch,” Zelena cackles.

Emma tenses, Regina can feel it in the hand that Emma still has around her bicep, but some sort of calm washes over Regina. “Why?” she questions, why would the fairy, the scaly dead eyed thing under that pretty face, want so badly to kill Regina’s children? Over and over, death after death, why-

The heart inside her screams.

Zelena looks like she’s lost her mind.

“How do you know that?” Emma questions sharply. She steps away from Regina, she steps in front of her. “This could be some bullshit you’re spitting out to keep us fro-”

“Do you remember the first one?” Zelena says loudly, she drowns out Emma’s voice. “Do you remember how your dear husband, the King, dragged you before her and asked for her blessing?”

Regina sucks in a breath through her nose, she straightens her spine. “How do you know that?” She tries to fight the heart inside her. She needs to tear the thing out.

“There’s a spell to show the past, to see the truth. That old man Farouk would know it, it’s his kind that needs be sacrificed to cast it. I know all about you, dearest sister. I know every dirty little thing about you. I know about that darling blue little baby. What did you name him? Joshua. As if the King would have let you name your own children. You were nothing but his whore, nothing but his broodmare-”

Regina blinks and shakes her head. She won’t let the heart control her. But she can’t see how it sneaks its tendrils out and manipulates her.

“That is absurd!” Snow suddenly barks out. “She’s lying.”

“I’m about to find out,” Regina says.

“What?”

Regina slams Zelena down into the floor and all around her symbols etch themselves into the rough hardworn wooden floor of the loft. Zelena screams a high scream and lays there, not able to move even an inch. Regina is gone in an instant, leaving Emma gripping empty air.

Miles away and barely a second later Regina’s eyes shine purple as she looks up the convent steps. The heart says burn it, but Regina shakes the thought away.

The power of the centuries old heart, the heart of a Queen long dead, it thrums inside Regina’s chest as she bursts Blue’s doors down.

“Your Majesty,” is the cool welcome from the fairy. The rage inside the heart becomes focused. It’s not the world it wants to burn, it’s Blue.

“You know why I’m here?” Regina can tell by the look on the dead thing’s face, that waxy smile, those empty eyes.

“I have my suspicions, certainly.”

Regina takes three steps inside the room, a dark mahogany lined room, the carpet a deep rich red, the inner sanctum and study of the Mother Superior, but that’s a mask, as much as the pretty face is. A vision, of centuries ago, a millennia ago, of a slimy thing slithering from the banks of the Weeping before it was a river, marshland, boggy and stinking of death, of wanderer’s lost in the night and never seen again, the heart thrums out a screech of horror and of seething hatred, Regina sees it, feels it, in a flash, still confused, but certain the fairy before her is an evil thing.

Fire wants to grow in her palms, her whole body feels alive with it, even the baby seems agitated, ready to fight, not since the height of her time as the Evil Queen has Regina wanted someone to suffer so badly. Suffer as she had done. Suffer so much that death would seem easier, seem better.

“Did you murder my children?” Regina asks, she hears a gasp behind her, in the hall, from beyond the still open doors hanging dangerously off their hinges. One of the other fairies, or more, are in the hall, they are all scaly underneath their masks, she wonders if they are all dead inside, if they are as evil as she suspects Blue to be. Only evil murders children, only evil sends children to their death, Regina had been evil, and she recognizes it now.

Blue’s eyebrows raise, not in surprise, or outrage, amusement almost, flippantly she cocks her head to the side as she stands from her chair. “You only have Henry, Your Majesty, and I assure you I would not touch a hair on his head.”

“In the old land,” Regina seethes, taking another step, “the King and I’s children, the one he asked that you bless, did you kill them?”

“What madness is this?” Blue huffs out a breath, but her face isn’t right, has she always been so poor in imitating the emotions of people? “You come here to destroy my property,” she sweeps a gesture at the broken doors, “to threaten me?”

“I came here to kill you,” Regina corrects, the heart in her chest, not her own, it ripples out power, she can feel each wave of it flowing over her, thrum thrum thrumping against her rib cage. Destroy, it whispers, destroy.

“Don’t!”

It’s Tink, wide eyes pleading, jumping in from the hallway, she reaches for Regina’s hand.

She’s blown back, she strikes the wall so hard the drywall cracks and breaks. Tink gasps and coughs, crumpled on the ground looking dazed, but stands in seconds. “Regina, you’re not yourself!”

“You’re protecting her?” Regina seethes.“After what she’s done?! Do you even know what she is?!”

Tink takes another step forward, limping and grimacing. “I can see that thing inside you, Regina, you’re losing control! It’s warping your mind!”

“No,” Regina shakes her head, long hair bouncing, tangled and a mess now. “No, I’m finally seeing the truth! She murdered them, Tink!” Tears blur her vision before she angrily swipes them away, in that second of distraction Blue tries to disappear. Regina feels her trying to pull in magic and lashes out, she tears the gathering magic apart with only a thought, and she relishes in the pain filled sound Blue emits.

“I believe you!” Tink screams, her hands raised as she takes another step, and another when Regina raises her hand, her fingers curled as if tightly wrapped around a throat and in response Blue begins to rise off the floor. “Regina!”

The heart, Regina almost feels the presence of the woman behind her, a shadow behind her every move. Dead things, the woman says, they are dead things.

Blue snarls and the blast of magic she emits next is enough to blast Regina and Tink both back. Blue always had such a pretty face, it’s not so pretty after Regina lashes out with sharp stinging magic and tears a chunk of skin off. There are scales underneath. Blue screeches and in a flash the skin is regrown. Regina launches forward and tears and tears and tears with strength and power that isn’t her own. The heart inside her screeches and an answering call tears itself from Regina’s throat.

Blue tries to defend herself, attack, and regrow her skin all at the same time. Regrowing her human mask is what she gives up on first. Regina tears and tears and there is never any blood.

“Is this what you are Tink?” Regina snarls. There are slashes on her body, and blood on her clothes. She has completely and totally forgotten about the baby. “Is this what you are inside?!”

She and Blue have blown out the wall of the office now. Blue stumbles out onto green grass. She looks winded and angry.

In a moment that is impossible to decipher, Regina finds herself with the upperhand. She uses every ounce of power within the heart to grab at Blue and trap her. Blue’s struggles are far more powerful and fervent then Zelena’s had been.

Regina sobs out a breath and falls down to one knee with both her hands held in front of her.  She lowers them slowly.

The baby isn’t kicking now. The absence of that near constant sensation shocks Regina’s thought process awake. Regina presses her hand against her belly and isn’t gentle when she prods against it. If the baby gets agitated with the constant prodding she’ll start to kick again.

Tink steps forward and stares with true horror at Blue. Blue is a dead thing hanging in the air. A rotten scaly thing that stinks of death and snarls with a vertical mouth and nasty long fingers twice as long as a humans.

“Is that what you are Tink?” Regina sobs out. The baby won’t kick.

A gaggle of other fairies climb out the demolished wall. Every single one of these delicate little fairies nearly gags at the sight before them. One even faints.

Regina nearly falls down in the dirt. The baby won’t kick. She isn’t moving. She’s killed her baby. The sob that overtakes her isn’t something she can control. After fighting both Zelena and the Blue Fairy, and letting some ancient power overtake her, she is utterly exhausted. She’s also bleeding and beaten. Every blow Blue sent her way is being felt now that her adrenaline and the hearts control over her is fading.

Tink sinks down on her knees next to Regina and lays a hand on her back. “Regina? We didn’t know. We didn’t know.”

“What are you underneath?” Regina sobs.

“I promise you we aren’t that!” Tink swears. “I promise you Regina we aren’t whatever that is!”

Regina shakes her head frantically, her water just broke. Suddenly all the discomfort she’s been in all day is making a very scary amount of sense. “The baby,” Regina grits out.

“Is she okay?” Tink asks.

“She’s coming,” Regina grits out. But the baby won’t move. She just killed her baby.

“You need to take that thing out of your chest right now,” Tink says, still in that commanding tone.

But Regina is still in her own world, panic twirling up her spine, each breath feels as if it’s being pulled through a tiny straw, she’s getting dizzy. She needs Robin.

[whasupwhereitis]

fanfic aesthetics: ‘Fester’ by @whasupwhereitis

Regina lets the wounds on her arm fester. She leaves them be, night after night, staring at them, dark eyes empty, breath easy, and she could be sleeping, if she weren’t in so much pain. But henry is gone, her baby, and the pain will never go away. Infection is no laughing matter, and when Roland witnesses her fall to her fever, it’s his father he runs too.

suggested by the lovely @goingtomakethishappen! 

[whasupwhereitis]

fanfic authors be like

[releases new chapter]

[whasupwhereitis]

“Don’t get in my way.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

I tried coloring it a couple times, but it just wasn’t coming out right, so I’ll just post the messy lineart lol

Hopefully the first in a series of outlaw queen pictures to celebrate the possibility of seeing more of these two together this season! First up is “first meeting”, and although I adore missing year oq, their “first” meeting in storybrooke is my fav :)

[whasupwhereitis]

Rocinante, A Good Boy

                AU Outlaw Queen. 

        Robin works for the Center for a Kinder World, a non-profit, a no-kill shelter for dogs and cats, and the occasional ferret. He’s good at his job, the best, an evaluater of temperament, he takes a look at all the dogs that are given over to the Center to see if they’re adoptable, to see if they’re safe. Regina Mills brings in her dog.

Robin leaves his apartment with a piece of toast held between his teeth, butter and cinnamon-sugar trailing down his chin as he tries to lock the door with the same hand that holds his laptop bag, his other hand holds his travel mug of coffee.

“Running late again, neighbor?” he hears from the stairs, he turns his head to look at Belle as she takes her last step up, she looks exhausted and pale against the bright yellow scrubs poking through the front of her unzipped jacket this morning, but she smiles as she approaches and shoos him from the lock and replaces his fumbling fingers with her own. “There we go,” she says as the bolt snaps into place.

He tries to thank her around his toast but she only laughs, waves him off after putting his keys in the front breast pocket of his winter coat with a pat. “Get out of here,” she orders, “and be careful, the roads are bad today,” her voice raises slightly as he steps towards the stairs. He hears her keys jangle and the hinges of her door, 203 across the hall from his 204, squeak as he rushes down the steps.

Freezing rain pinpricks at the top of his head as he leaves his building and walks hastily to his car. Someone’s cleared away the snow from his windows already, he smiles and looks at Belle’s red Toyota parked behind his Honda, he mutters a quick thank you that she will not hear and promises himself he will have a latte and croissant for her when they cross paths tomorrow morning. It would be the thought that counts, he thinks, as he is almost certain that she comes home from the graveyard shift at the ER only to fall face first on her bed and sleep the daylight away.

Something else then, he’ll take a can of WD-40 and fix those squeaky hinges of hers.

The roads are terrible. He gets to work late.

-

“Hello,” Robin greets, hand extended to softly touch Red’s elbow as he comes up behind her. He’d had only enough time to drop his coat and bag on his desk before the phone rang, he’d answered and smiled at the voice of the newest volunteer and told her he’d be right there.

“Hey,” Red smiles as she turns towards him, long hair nearly slapping him in the face in her exuberance, all those straight white teeth on display as she motions towards him before introducing him. She turns back to the softly trembling woman standing with her dog, the waiting room is empty but for this woman, who must have been here as soon as their doors opened. She’s still in her coat. “This is Robin Locksley,” Red says, trying to be comforting but she is too enthusiastic to really manage, “he’s the best around here, the dog whisperer,” she laughs.

It gets a barely there smile out of the woman, but even that small incline to her lips is enough to have Robin pause a little, makes him blink and look at her, dark hair, dark eyes, and a very, very lovely face, she holds out a hand, “I’m Regina Mills,” she says quietly. It looks like she can’t help herself, as she continues, “He’s a good dog,” the woman manages to say, barely holding in the sobs that obviously threaten, that lovely face is a bit blotchy, the eyes a tad swollen and red, “he doesn’t bark, or jump, I trained him to be a good dog.”

Robin smiles and shakes her hand, noticing the confident grip of her hand before he lets go, perhaps after a moment too long, he puts on his practiced mask.

“We’ll have to evaluate him, see how he’ll react to being handled, for the safety of our staff and for the new home he’ll find,” Robin tells her, sure that Red already has said so, but just needing to say it himself, reaching his hand out for the leash this very lovely woman is holding in a tight grip low over her belly. “Then we’ll see if he’ll fit here.”

She nods shakily, a tear sliding out the corner of her eye, “Of course,” she nearly whispers, she pats the dog that obviously has some Rottweiler blood as he sits patiently beside her. The dog’s eyes close as she pets him, looking pleased, the dog is very handsome, with his dark shiny coat, if everything goes well and the dog is found to be healthy then Robin can see this mutt finding a new home quickly.

“What is the dog’s name?” Robin asks.

“His name is Rocinante,” she answers, finally releasing her white knuckled grip on the leash, her fingers slide against Robin’s as the leather is passed from her hand to his, her fingers feel cold.

“He’ll be right back,” Robin promises, “Red is gonna stay here with you, help you fill out some paperwork, okay?”

Robin tugs slightly on the leash, trying to lead the dog. The dog doesn’t fight, but seems determined not to move, big dark eyes look up to the woman, and her big dark eyes (god they are lovely, tears shimmer in them, she’s beautiful) look back down, “It’s okay, Rocinante, go on, be a good boy,” she says, sniffling as she does so.

Her command works like magic, the dog stands, tail nub wagging, slightly panting as Robin leads him out of the room. The dog prances a bit like a pony, a youthful jaunt to his walk and it makes Robin smile.

-

Robin isn’t necessarily the easiest evaluator to please, a hardass is what he’s called sometimes, because he’d passed a dog through once that had later bitten a vet tech and he’s never forgotten, though the bite was not severe and Kelly had forgiven him and the dog both, blaming herself for startling the dog and ignoring some very clear signals. But even his hardass ways are incredibly impressed with this Rotty mix, the dog knows basic commands, sit, stay, heel. The dog is calm, he’s patient, he lets Robin touch his feet, his nails, his ears, the dog lets Robin poke his fingers in a bowl of kibble he’s enthusiastically chomping on without any sort of ire. Rocinante spreads himself on his back, submissive, when Robin tries to see how he’ll react to being pushed around. And when Robin imitates the way a vet might scoop a dog up the dog merely looks at him, a bit perturbed, very confused, but completely trusting in his arms.

What has caused the dog to be given up is no behavioral issue (as is so often the case, people that didn’t understand the responsibility of a dog and the dog was the one to suffer for it), and the woman was clearly distraught (those big dark eyes filling with tears, red lips trembling), Robin pats the dog’s side softly, thump thump thumping as Rocinante’s tongue lolls out, he seems to be smiling, so Robin smiles back and wonders what the story is here.

-

“My fiance’s daughter,” she says, almost in a monotone, patting at the dog’s side as she sits on the uncomfortable plastic seat, her ankles crossed delicately, she is still wearing her dark coat, “she’s allergic to dogs.”

Robin nods softly, eyes flicking down to see that, yes, there’s a ring on her finger. A large diamond on a shining band of yellow gold, a gaudy thing he wouldn’t have thought a woman so classy would wear, but he supposes she didn’t buy it for herself. Disappointment races through him. Not that he really has time or gumption to see a woman, even one as lovely as she is. And she is so lovely.

“And more then that,” Regina shakes her head, still looking so very close to tears, “she’s afraid of him. My fiance won’t even let him in the yard when she’s home.”

“Why?”

Something ugly twists up her face, a snarl on that red mouth, a glint of something deep and hidden around her eyes, but in seconds the expression is gone. It leaves Robin unsettled. “She just is,” she says, “he’s never done anything to her, nothing.”

Robin clears his throat, “He’s good with children?” he asks, moving things along, even though his curiosity is piqued, “What about other animals?”

She swallows, and nods, “Yes, I’ve fostered a few cats over the years, he’s very good with cats. He’s afraid of other big dogs, but he adores small ones. A chihuahua lived across the hall in our last apartment, he would spend hours cuddling her if I let him.”

“That’s wonderful,” and it is, a dog that does well with other animals finds a home quicker, but, “And children?”

She shakes her head, “He hasn’t had much opportunity to be around children. He’s a gentle dog, but I don’t know.”

Robin nods. They finish the paperwork.

And she leaves.

-

“I feel so bad for her,” Red says later, near lunch time, she’s looking through the paperwork for Rocinante spread out on Robin’s desk. The dog has been whimpering in his cage since they placed him there, confused at first about where his owner went, and then as the day wore on he looked positively heartbroken. “And the poor dog.”

The woman Regina had been no better when she’d left. Robin and Red had stepped away to offer some imitation of privacy, but the waiting room wasn’t large and so they heard every word of her sobbing apology to her good boy, could hear every little peck she placed on the soft fur of Rocinante’s brow. Robin isn’t often sympathetic to the people giving up their pets, unless it is someone old or sick who can not provide care. But this woman- she broke his heart. He thought it might have to do with her beautiful face. But her sobs were real and the whimpers she left trapped in her closed mouth, he could feel an echoing ache in his own throat at the sound of them. She loved her dog. Her beautiful dog, her well-behaved mutt that listened to her when she said stay as she walked out the door.

She had been shaking, visibly shaking, sobbing still, Robin had thought maybe she should not drive in that state but to ask her to wait, to prolong her goodbye, seemed unusually cruel.

“He’s going to find a good home in no time,” Robin tries to placate, slipping paperwork from her hands, “he’s young and good looking and well trained, he’s-”

Red tips her head back with a soft laugh, grinning up at him from her chair, “Just what all the ladies are looking for.”

A grin stretches across his lips, “Exactly, don’t worry about him.”

Her grin slips a little, she shakes her head and leans back against the cushioned back of the chair, it bounces softly with her weight before stilling. “Her father bought her that dog the Christmas before he passed away, he helped her train him. She told me. I don’t understand how she can just give him up.”

Robin doesn’t quite understand either.

“He’s going to find a good home,” is all Robin can offer her.

-

“Hey buddy,” Robin crouches in front of Rocinante’s crate, he undoes the little lock and opens the door. The dog barely raises his head.

The dog has been up for adoption since around four. They normally would have a waiting period, anywhere between a week and a month, to see how truly healthy the dog is, but Regina Mills had brought a full and comprehensive veterinary file. So, with only an hour before closing, Rocinante is adoptable. People have barely glanced at him. Assuming he’s old or sick by the way he lays in his large crate, he doesn’t even look up.

Robin, he cups his hand under the Rotty’s chin and the dog raises his head to look at him. Big brown eyes, a depth to them that Robin might be imagining, stare back at him, where is she? those eyes ask, I want to go home.

He swallows, spends a little while petting the dog before he closes the crate once more.

[whasupwhereitis]

I saw your new fic on ff net and it wasn't for Once. I think it's pretty bullshit that you don't write for OQ anymore, be prepared to loose all of your followers

yikes

[whasupwhereitis]

who watches Bates Motel? Could you msg me so we can talk about it?

[whasupwhereitis]

The beauty of the Queen

Regina Mills: Face Appreciation —> 100/∞

[whasupwhereitis]

Pearl

For @cherishthepeanut, Day 3: Mother Knows Best (y’all were asking for pain with a prompt like this)

So, SOMEONE came to me with a brilliant, though wicked, idea of “what if Peanut grew up to look like Cora” which, of course, immediately turned into an 18-pages of angst-ridden Regina/Cora/Daughter feels. In this story, Peanut is called Pearl, contrary to my other Outlaw Peanut stories where she’s called Miryam. She’s a rather different character than the one I’ve written, so I felt like I needed to change her name. Also, because I’m not particularly friendly with canon, Gold has never regained his Dark One powers, never tried to.

Tagging @loveexpelrevolt, because she asked for it, the fool, and because she read and pepped-talk me through the first part. Adding @thisisamadhouse who copiously yelled at me and kept me motivated. Thank you both, darlings.

Any complaints, go to @kc749. She’s the someone behind the pain.

On with the mommy issues show.

The first time it happened, she understood she was the source of the problem, but she mistook what the problem was.

She felt it, somewhere between the moment Robin’s little girl was placed into her arms and the moment she was removed, not crying, not fussing, just looking up at her with big, accusing eyes, and Regina had no excuses to give her, no reassurances. She felt it, and that was all.

Nothing.

She felt nothing.

She didn’t freak out right away. She remembered how hard it had been with Henry at the beginning. She knew better than to think maternal instinct was just something that sprouted unprompted out of you. She was aware of her own shortcomings too.

She just thought it would take some time, that’s all.

And then a bit more.

And when it still didn’t kick in after Pearl’s first birthday, that was the cue for the guilt and the worry to creep in, and alter every interaction she had with the baby girl.

She thought it was Zelena’s shadow that still haunted her. Even though the woman had finally agreed to step back for the sake of her child (after yet another one of her insane scheme almost lead to Pearl’s death – her sister had crumbled to her knees, holding on to her spasming stomach as if her pain had been a raw, living thing in her insides devouring her, and she’d begged, she’d begged (Regina still shudders at the memory, hitting too close to home) for Regina to take her, to take her and make sure she would never be able to hurt her baby again. She wasn’t sure she was the best suited to keep that particular promise towards children), even though her visits had been few and monitored, Regina thought that was it. The reason she couldn’t connect to Pearl. It was all her sister’s fault, it would grow into the startling blue eyes of the little girl, her flowing red hair, into her likeness to the woman who’d tried to steal everything away from her, who’d tried to make her life a living hell and succeeded at least in hurting in the most degrading way the people she loved. Regina had thought herself better, stronger than this, but perhaps in Pearl she would always see the truth of her conception, and never get past it.

But the little girl’s eyes turned black, and the red wild mane she’d expected never grew on her head. Dark hair and dark eyes possessed Pearl’s face, and Regina’s delusions about her relationship with the baby didn’t hold so strong anymore. And she remembered that they were far more terrifying shadows than her sister’s.

“Mama.”

Pearl was such a serious, grave little girl. Even when she said her first word, she didn’t smile. She gazed straight at Regina, pointed her finger like a death sentence, and uttered the dreaded word.

“Mama.”

Everyone laughed and complimented the toddler and Robin kissed Regina on her temple, all misty eyes and blubbery laugh, and Regina smiled, smiled till it ached and she scooped the little girl - her daughter - in her arms, all the while feeling like she was being choked, and throttled, and crushed, the weight of the words too heavy for her to carry.

Mama.

Daughter.

That night, she dreamed of broken bones and spidery fingers touching her until she was nauseated. When she woke up, urine was leaking along her thighs, and her nose was bleeding.

Pearl was crying out for her in the nursery.

…

..

Keep reading

[whasupwhereitis]

Peanut Week- Daddy’s Girl

(This is a bit more OQ then peanutty, but here ya go)

“Regina?” Robin whispers, grunts more like, as he turns over in bed, watching as Regina carries a snuffling baby through the doorway.

Regina looks quite close to tears herself, the ten month old already fighting her grasp, reaching out for Robin. “She wants her Papa,” Regina says, turning her face away from the strip of hall light that is the only illumination to the room.

“Come here, my girl,” Robin coos, sitting up to take the baby, he holds her against himself, he breathes in the scent of baby shampoo and lotion, “What time is it?” he asks Regina, as he’s blearly trying to look at the clock on her side of the bed.

“It’s nearly five,” he expects her to lay down, to cuddle with him and the baby that is already nearly back asleep, but she heads towards the suite bathroom, “I think I’ll just get ready,” she mumbles when he calls after her softly.

-

Regina has an impressive spread laid out for breakfast nearly two hours later when Robin carries Laura down the stairs, the baby giggling against him, screaming ‘Papa, Papa!’ over and over.

He kisses Regina on the cheek, her focus on the skillet on the stovetop, but he can see her frowning, her shoulders are tense.

“What happened earlier?” he asks, walking away to strap Laura in her high chair.

Regina shrugs a shoulder up, gently prodding at the eggs with her spatula as she does so, “Laura was crying, I think she might have had a nightmare.”

“It was bad? I’m sorry I didn’t wake up,” he pours some cheerios out onto her tray to entertain Laura while he goes back to Regina, he wraps his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“She wanted her Papa though,” Regina says, still tense against him, she’s already dressed for the office, it’s his day with Laura, his day to get the boys to school.

“Are you okay?” he knows she isn’t.

“Yes, of course,” she steps away from him, lifting the pan as she turns off the burner, “could you call up to the boys? Everything should still be warm.”

“Alright,” Robin agrees, watching as Regina pours a portion of eggs on everyone’s plates, she takes a moment, her back turned to him, to run a hand through Laura’s strawberry blonde curls.

-

She’s second best.

Regina logically knows that, of course, she would be, but the sting still bites. She always had been, she always would, and some love was better than none, surely.

Henry, she’d raised him ten years, and she did not doubt his love for her, not any more, her brave little boy had grown into a kind young man, she knows Henry loves her. But she also knows he loves Emma more, she’s made peace with that, she has, she’s glad she has so much of his heart at all.

And Roland, his Papa, well, is his Papa, the only parent he’d ever had, he loves no one like he loves Robin. The little curly haired boy does love Regina, he says it often, he’s started to call her Mama not long ago, not every time he addresses her, but it’s sweet and beautiful and nearly makes Regina cry every time he does do it, her heart feels incredibly full when his voice wraps around it.

Laura…

Lovely, carefree, incredible Laura, she prefers Robin too.

These are Regina’s beautiful children, they are happy, Regina is happy, happy with whatever part of her family she can get, usually. Last night-

had been a bad night though.

Regina had heard Laura crying because she’d woken up crying herself not ten minutes earlier, a nightmare of her own had her padding softly to the kitchen for some tea, maybe a bit of television while everyone was asleep, something trashy to take her mind off things, unpleasant things. She’d heard Laura through her open door though, she’d passed the nursery just to check, and found a baby in need of comfort.

“Mama,” Laura cried, arms upraised, waiting impatiently to be picked up as she bounced on chubby legs.

“Hi there, baby,” Regina smiled, making a noise of sympathy when she squeezed the diaper on Laura’s little bum and found it squishy. “Let’s get you changed,” Laura cried through the changing and after, cried as Regina tried to sooth her, wordless cries, until it turned into pleas for Robin.

“Papa, papa! pa pa.”

Second best.

And then suddenly Regina had been crying too, confusing and scaring Laura probably, she’d dreamt of-

She shuddered, tried to crush her nose against the crown of Laura’s head, to try to envelop herself in the scent of baby hair, but Laura thrashed against her.

Regina had dreamt of the King, of the way he, ugh, the way he used to take her, calling another woman’s name while he did so. She woke up feeling dirty and cheap, bile rising in her throat.

That dream, that man, it should having nothing to do with her children, should not even be in the same stream of thoughts, but it’s the same isn’t it? Always second best.

(And Robin too, had chosen what he thought was Marian, his honor, either, both, over her. She doesn’t begrudge him, she loves him, and knows he loves her too. She’s having a rough night thought, that’s all.)

Regina lets herself cry for only a little while before she takes Laura to Robin.

-

Robin knows something is wrong, very wrong.

He’d given Henry a bit of cash and tasked him with entertaining Roland until dinner time, he’d taken Laura over to have a last minute play date with Neal, and now he’s back at home, waiting for Regina.

“What’s this?” Regina asks, bare feet stopped at the entrance to the living room, something like panic and annoyance in her eyes when Robin looks up to her.

She’s come home a bit early, she’s got her briefcase still in her hand as she stares at him.

“I thought I’d surprise you,” Robin smiles, standing from the blanket he’d lain over the carpet, “a bit of a picnic.”

Regina looks down again at the little plates of cheese and fruit, at the glasses awaiting wine, the annoyance becomes anger, he can see how she tries to hide it all, but those eyes of hers are easy to read. “Oh,” she says.

He moves forward, slipping the case from her fingers, he plops it down on the couch before landing a hand at the small of her back, leading her towards the blanket.

“Thank you,” she says, sitting gracefully down and reaching for some cheddar straight away, “I didn’t get a chance to grab lunch.”

“No?” he sits next to her, reaching for the wine he’d been airing, “Busy day?”

“Yeah,” she says, her voice is still off, empty, she’s dissociating, stepping back though she sits right next to him.

“Regina,” Robin hands her a glass of red, “please tell me what’s going on.”

Dark eyes look at him, really look, before she smiles a smile that is as brittle as thin ice, “Nothing at all, thank you for this.”

His brows pull down, he frowns and sighs, “Regina-”

“I said I’m fine,” she snaps.

“Well I know you’re not!” he says back, his voice is strong, and a bit too loud, she flinches back from him in a way she rarely does, he can count on one hand the number of times she’s reacted that way.

She snatches the plate of cheese, holds her wine, and stands up, “I’m taking a shower.”

“My love!” but she’s already out the room. Robin rubs at the bridge of his nose and munches on a strawberry. She’d taken a shower in the morning, while he and Laura had gotten back to sleep. Regina isn’t one to take multiple showers a day, not unless she’s, oh...shit.

Robin shakes his head, anger flooding his veins, anger at a dead man. He’d slept through another of her nightmares, he suddenly feels useless, he can’t even comfort her when they sleep beside each other. What use is he, he seethes.

He cleans up after the picnic, plates back in the kitchen, food back in the fridge, blanket folded in the laundry room, it’s been nearly halfnhour by the time he knocks softly at the master bathroom, “Regina,” he calls loudly, trying to be heard over the rushing water.

She doesn’t respond, “My love, I’m coming in,” she’s not especially shy most of the time, but this isn’t like most of the time.

“Oh, my love,” Robin says, closing the door softly, he leans against it, tears growing in his eyes as he looks at her, and she looks right back at him through the foggy glass of the shower, she’s curled up on the tiled floor, wet hair plastered to her head, eyes red, her breath hitching.

“I’m sorry,” she says, words swallowed up by the beating water, but Robin can see the words form on her mouth.

Robin opens the door to the shower, reaching under the spray, soaking the material of his shirt, he turns off the water that is as hot as it can get. Regina’s skin is red and angry from the hot water, she looks up at him from the tiled floor, hair so long now that it covers her breasts from view. He helps her stand, though he knows she’s not so fragile that she couldn’t do it herself, he wants to hold her, and she doesn’t pull away.

She pulls on a robe, he hands her a brush.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he whispers.

Her eyes close, she runs the brush through her hair, starting at the bottom, working tangles out gently before moving the brush towards her crown.

“I-” she starts to talk, but her words stutter out, she shakes her head.

“It’s not just a nightmare about that bastard though, is it?” Robin says, there’s something deeper here, something to do with Laura, something to do with this morning, “please, Regina, I’m here with you, please.”

She looks down, her head tilted, her eyes close, “It’s, I think I’m just being dramatic, sensitive maybe, because of- of the nightmare,” she shrugs again.

Robin has to urge her again, his hands up against her biceps now, rubbing soothing up and down.

“Laura wanted you this morning,” Regina whispers, saying it like it’s shameful, for a moment Robin doesn’t understand, Regina doesn’t look up to see the confusion on his face, “she didn’t want me, Robin.”

“She loves you,” Robin says immediately, and knows how useless those words are to her.

Regina smiles slightly, looking up at him, “I know,” she acknowledges, she rises her hands to his chest, the brush still in one of them, “I know she does.”

“I love you, Regina,” are those words useless too? Robin wishes Regina’s thoughts were clearer to him, wishes he was enough to sooth years worth of hurts and insecurities.

“I know you do,” she sighs, smiles again and moves to step away, Robin holds onto her.

“Your family loves you, each one of us, you’re irreplaceable,” there, in those dark eyes, he can see she doesn’t believe him, she smiles though.

“I better get started on dinner,” and when she tries to step away again, he lets her go.

[whasupwhereitis]

Peanut Prompt: Peanut's first word shocks the whole family.

 -This is going to be my PeanutWeek contribution for Milestones everybody.-

Laura is a chubby faced ten month old when Roland’s plan formulates in his brain. He’s sitting with his baby sister, listening to her squeal and coo, and he thinks, for the first time- “When is she gonna talk?” he asks his father, who does not stop jangling the giraffe toy in front of Laura’s flailing hands.

“Oh, it’s different for all babies,” Robin responds, “maybe a month or two though, I’ve heard Regina already trying to teach her to say ‘Papa’.” Robin grins, leaning in close to Roland as Laura’s little fingers finally pry the toy from him, “you can keep a secret though?”

Roland nods his head, so hard that his curls, curls that Laura has too, a riotous head full of strawberry blonde hair, Roland’s curls fly about.

“I’ve been teaching her to say ‘Mama’.

“So,” Roland thinks hard, he’s nearly in the first grade now and he is very, very smart, his teacher tells him all the time, “you’re having a competition?”

Robin tilts his head slightly, eyebrows raised, “I suppose we are,” he chuckles and moves to stand up, socked feet solidly underneath him before he reaches down to lift Laura into his arms. “Don’t tell Regina though,” Robin warns, holding a hand to Roland after the baby is secure, “I want to surprise her!”

“Okay,” Roland replies, his master plan already turning the gears in his head.

-

Roland’s seen Pongo do tricks for treats, he figures babies can’t be that different. That very night he snatches a piece of banana bread from the kitchen and goes into Laura’s room after bed time. She’s awake in her crib, awake and standing against the bars, she bounces wildly when she sees him. Screeching and smiling.

“Hi,” Roland whispers, trying to hush her, he’d closed the door, and he knows his parents won’t come unless it’s crying they hear, and he certainly does not intend to make the baby cry.

He holds the banana bread for her to see.

-

His hopes have not diminished, even a week of late night practice sessions, Roland can see the way Laura intently studies his face, the way his lips move, she’s trying hard, night after night, and he believes in her. He has too.

-

Another week and his hopes, well, they have dimmed slightly. His Papa had said it could be a month, or two, and that does seem an extraordinary amount of time to Roland. Perhaps he just started too early, but he still goes with a treat nearly every night, or when he remembers to more like, when he isn’t sleepy himself. He finds time in the day too, to find time with his sister, very short amounts of time when neither of his parents are with earshot.

-

Roland is eating a bowl of Lucky Charms when it happens. It’s breakfast, everyone is still in their pajamas, but Regina has a tablet in front of her, scowling and saying strange things like ‘economy’ and ‘GDP’ to Papa, who hmms and uh-huhs to her words. Roland doesn’t think Papa really knows what she’s talking about either, but Roland is really far more concerned about his bowl and spoon really.

He doesn’t notice Regina reach for the banana bread that sits in the center of the table, next to the carton of orange juice and the jug of milk, doesn’t notice the way Laura stops nomming on her cheerios and gunky oatmeal.

“Puppy!”

Roland drops his spoon into his bowl, head shooting up to look at Laura next to him at the table. 

Regina and Papa both gasp, Papa’s chair scraps against the floor as he shifts away from the table, to look at Laura better, and then at Regina.

“What did she just say?” Henry says, looking up from his eggs, “Did she-”

“Puppy!” Laura says, more forcefully then before.

“Oh my god!” Regina says, she suddenly looks close to tears, “It’s her first word,” she fumbles with the tablet, lifting it and getting to the main screen, starts to record, “say it again, baby!”

“Why is she saying puppy though?” Henry asks, and is interrupted by another shout from Laura.

Laura is starting to look quite angry though, red faced under her curls.

“Wooow,” Roland says, “she wants a puppy!” he exclaims, looking about all the people around the room, “Did you guys hear that!”

Laura throws her gunk covered spoon on the ground at Robin’s feet, fists flailing, screaming the word over and over, until Roland reaches for his own piece of banana bread and gives it to her, “She wants a puppy! Maybe we should get one, today?!” Roland says.

Regina is narrowing her eyes behind the tablet. Papa is laughing.

[whasupwhereitis]

Fester

Chapter 51

“Marry me?” Robin whispers, only the trees hear him. He can see the way she would shake her head in his mind, can see how her face would transform with her panic.

Robin sighs and runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head as he turns to spy the tents of camp through the trees. His own tent, in this new and frighteningly unknown world, is dark green, some failed attempt at blending into the nature around it perhaps.

Regina and Roland are still sleeping, he hopes they are anyway, she could use the rest, and the boy could use the cuddling. That’s how he’d left them, woman and boy smushed into one sleeping bag, when he’d left nearly an hour before. Gone to start a fire, to start breakfast, to take a piss in the woods, and to apparently share his frustration with the forest as he gushes out a huge breath before he starts to walk.

Around the campfire the night before, when she hadn’t been focused entirely on Roland, she’d told Robin what needed to be done. Find Zelena, and when he had asked if they were to kill her, and he was sure that it needed doing, and still does think so, Regina had looked away, her brow crumpled. “She’s my sister,” she’d said softly.

He hadn’t known what to say then, still does not know, without his memories he can’t even comfort the woman he loves, his frustration had nearly been overflowing, he had ghosted a hand down her back, had leaned in to kiss her sadness away, and she’d drawn away from him in response.

“Morning, lover boy!” John says as Robin approaches. The man is acting strange, in a way that puts Robin on edge, has him looking closely at his oldest friend. John had made his feelings known the night before, exactly what he thought of having Regina among them, and hadn’t seemed troubled by Robin’s angry defence nor Roland’s squaked indignation.

Robin ignores the man, but tries to smile when Arthur claps a hand to his back, it’s more like a grimace, he passes them both and unzips his tent, the smile becomes true when his eyes meet the beauty that is his family. Regina is moving about, looking as if about to wake, she’s frowning, a whimper falls from her mouth.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10251304/51/Fester

[whasupwhereitis]

Fading into View 1/2

A warning: clicking any of the links is probably a spoiler. I suggest not doing that yet. This is loosely based on a movie I have not seen. Some, rather obvious, musical accompaniment. I will finish this eventually, I suppose, but eventually may be a while.

The smell of apple pie was strong, and dimly, he had wondered if the realtor burned candles when she walked him through the empty, dusty rooms. Except, now with his boxes stacked up high, and his hands rough and calloused from assembling his furniture, the smell still lingered on, persistent after months of signing bank loan papers and of packing up his life.

The realtor had scowled at him when he had asked her at the closing. She huffed and fisted one gloved hand into the lining of her fur coat and dismissed him with the raise of one black, heavy brow. He left her with the keys and a sick churning in his stomach. But the house was his and he would build himself a new life here, the ever-present smell of apple pie be damned. 

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[whasupwhereitis]

So how many minutes after a chapter is posted is absurdly soon to post an “update soon!” review?