online communities are so strange because people slip away so easily. you can be on here for years, folding people you've never met into the fabric of your daily life, and then they disappear, leaving only ghost posts scattered across tumblr behind. or their blog stays dormant, for weeks, months, years, until you're only still following them because you remember that they love sunflowers or they were kind to you when they didn't have to be or the last thing they posted was sad and raw and you still worry about them sometimes.
and sometimes they come back when you least expect it, years later, even, and there's this sudden rush of relief like there you are, there you are, even though you barely knew each other.
there's a strange kind of love to it. i don't know you and i want to hold your hand across miles and time zones and oceans. i can still see the imprint of you in this community you left. you don't think anyone will notice or care when you're gone, but we notice and we care and we wish you well.
i hope you're all okay out there. i hope the sun is shining on your face and you are breathing deeply. i miss you.
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Behold my current ear worm. Eye of Night by Trees of Eternity. A haunting yet poignant and lovely offering composed by lovers going through one of the worst trials a couple can endure. One battling cancer, the other watching helplessly as that cruel disease destroyed what he loved most. An entire album overflowing with near palpable suffering, gratitude, despair and hope. The sacred offering of a melodic memorial by a heart stricken by grief to an angel that left this world way too soon.
There is something so beautiful about sadness to me. I can't really explain it. Oh, sure, I'm all about energetic music when working out, peppy tunes when I'm in a rare good mood, and aggressive music when I'm angry. But melancholy is the blanket I wrap myself up in to find meaning in an existence I could never fully understand in a thousand lifetimes. It colors the lens through which I view my surroundings, casting them in varying shades of gray and blue, so that I tend to notice misery more readily than bliss. And as it so happens, it also greatly informs my taste in music.
I've never been a particularly happy person. Probably never will be. I have an affinity for the darkness that the light only just manages to keep in check. When I have brainstormed lengthy pieces of fiction in the past, I always began with pain or grief or sorrow as the touchstone for my imagination. Never happiness. Never joy. Those things are not fuel for my muse. I dwell on tragedy and heartache, and the characters I love most would - if they could - attest to that.
My soul, it seems, is written of minor chords, interspersed only sparsely with majors lest the composition stray too far into the black margins of inescapable gloom. My music therefore is moody; it's dissonance and harmony warring for dominance, a somber verse over a promising chorus with a percussive anvil keeping the rhythm. I crave that feeling in my chest, that burning tightness and discomfort on the edge of tears, that mournful songs elicit. It needs to hurt to move me, to inspire me, to make me feel something profound I can't quite put words to.
As may be obvious, I am not a blue skies individual. The darkening clouds and driving rain and rolling thunder are my cherished friends, my constant companions, my faithful comforters. But that doesn't mean I don't love basking in the warmth of the sun in season. Rather, I find that teetering between the poles of perspective makes me more appreciative of the necessary role both play in navigating the human condition. What's tricky in my estimation is avoiding the extremes, and thankfully that's something I am getting better at with time.
Balance is difficult but not unachievable. And that gives me hope.
Ruby frowns at the makeshift pyre, her prized costume nestled atop a pile of wood that had been conjured with one sharp snap of a wrist.
"I'm not making you do anything," Regina replies, offering the match to her obstinate fiancee yet again. It had been refused twice before. "You signed the papers of your own free will. And besides, I'm giving that monstrosity a far more dignified send off than it rightfully deserves."
After an exaggerated huff, Ruby scowls back at her. "I can't believe you did that, either. I mean, who includes the ritualistic burning of a perfectly kick ass hot dog costume in their prenuptial agreement?"
"Someone who wants their impending marriage to last, that's who," Regina says, then bobs the lighter pointedly in front of Ruby's face. "Because if I see it on you one more time, there will indeed be an ass kicked. Yours. Now be a good girl and fulfill your half of the bargain so that I can sleep peacefully once we are wed. That hideous..." She trails off to gesture in disgust toward the offending costume, "thing...gives me nightmares."
"Oh, for fuck's sake. Fine! Such a damn drama queen..."
Still grumbling under her breath at the indignity being foisted upon her, Ruby snatches the match and ignites it against her jeans in one smooth motion. (She doesn't quite catch subtle dilation of brown eyes, the flaring of nostrils that betrays how hot Regina thought that sick move was.) As the flame dances gleeful upon the thin stick of fuel, frissons of smoke twirling toward the blue skies above, she eyes it hatefully.
She really did love that costume and could not begin to understand why Regina didn't see how hilarious it was. After all, it wasn't her who made all the low hanging fruit dog jokes, now was it? How was it fair that Regina got to strategically poke at her canine side with the sole purpose to rile her up and the second she decides to make light of it in her own way, she gets shot down? Mercilessly.
Frankly, the only reason Ruby endured Regina's ruthlessly domineering and controlling streak was that she loved the woman too damn much to hold those flaws against her. Modern woman of means as Regina was now, deep down she would always be a Queen; a markedly less Evil one to be sure, but a Queen all the same. Ruby's Queen. And that's why she'd signed the pre-nup, ridiculous as it was. That, and the fact that what she gained was way the fuck better than what she was about to lose.
If she was being honest, there isn't a whole lot she wouldn't give up to see Regina in her old world outfits again. And the best part was she would get to meticulously, worshipfully, gleefully peel Regina out of them afterwards. The very thought made her mouth water with anticipation.
"Well, it was fun while it lasted I supposed," she mutters, resolve settling in, and with one last half-forlorn glance, tosses the match onto the pyre. She then turns to stare Regina down, one brow raised in challenge. "Happy now?"
Regina nods with her most imperiously smug smile. "Very," she says, then uncharacteristically winks, smile shifting into the realm of the sultry. Voice husky all of the sudden, she offers her hand to Ruby and adds, "Now, let's go home and see about getting to my side of the bargain. Shall we?"
And as Ruby dutifully, and eagerly, takes the proffered hand of her beloved, it occurs to her that to achieve such an exceedingly desirable outcome, she suddenly wishes she had more costumes to burn.
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My favorite thing about fanfic authors is they can identify any gap in a canon timeline where characters are offscreen and exploit the ever living fuck out of it
Here you go, @konako. Since Regina looks young and innocent-ish in this, my head went in a couple different directions. This is one:
________________________________________
“How did you know about Red?” Snow asked.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Regina replied, being deliberately obtuse as she lowered the book her nose had been buried within.
They had been loitering about in Snow’s study for most of the day. Half of it they spent gossiping about everything under the sun until a tome caught Regina’s eye. She had been reading it aloud ever since, as much so Snow could continue avidly avoiding her lessons as anything else. Which is what Regina was supposed to be doing. Teaching the annoyingly persuasive brat how to balance ledgers so she could some day run the kingdom successfully. Instead, she’d let herself be cajoled into ‘taking a break’ ‘just for a little while’ which turned half the morning.
“I mean how did you know she was the one?” Snow replied.
Regina smiled smugly, knowing how much that frustrated the princess. “The one what, dear?”
Heaving a sigh, Snow gestured as dramatic teenagers as wont to do, “The one you were in love with, silly. You know, your other half. Your soul mate. Your happily ever after. I’ve asked you before and you just dodge the question and say I’m too young. Well, I’m not anymore! I’m old enough to rule now. Old enough for my father to start mentioning the prospect of me entertaining suitors. I’m old enough to understand love, so I think it’s time you stop beating around the bush. I know almost everything about you except that.”
“And there’s a reason,” Regina said sharply. This was topic she avoided at all costs with Snow because the repercussions of the answer were too dangerous. No one save her father knew the true circumstances behind her and Red at last consummating a love they had been privately and mutually nursing for years, and to date Regina had meant to keep it that way, even if Snow’s mention of entertaining suitors shed light upon the real motivation behind the inquiry.
Even so, it really was nearly impossible to say no to the girl with those big brown eyes which were currently fixed upon her and who was staring with an unflinching will to have her way. Which had been the case virtually ever since the day they met. What Snow White wants, Snow White always gets.
“Must you really know?”
Snow nodded fervently. “I must. Please, Regina. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
Both of them knew that wasn’t accurate. And yet Regina found herself malleable to Snow’s request. They had come so far in five years that she felt she could trust Snow in this matter.
After saving the girl’s life, they had bonded in a way neither could ever have predicted. In every sense aside from blood, they had become kin whose profound fondness for one another transcended even the sum total of those labels. Regina had not expected that to happen, nor had she thought she could salvage any kind of amiable relationship with the girl’s father after she declined his request of her hand in marriage – respectfully as possible of course, yet with firm resolve that clearly offended the expectant monarch.
The king had originally desired such a union solely for the sake of his precious daughter, whom he believed required a mother’s hand to guide her into womanhood. She was to be Queen one day, and would need a woman of noble birth and character to shape her into a sovereign the kingdom could rely upon to govern both wisely and fairly. To that end had relocated Regina’s entire household to the capitol, not willing any excuse to prevent his plans from seeing fruition. At first he had convinced himself his intentions would bear fruit in a marriage, but had to settle for less than what he had hoped when his advances were stiffly rebuffed. It was only after his daughter revealed the young heroine who so selflessly rescued his only child already belonged to someone else that the sting of that hurt began to fade.
Even so, disappointment had soured the king’s interactions with the brave young Regina for many subsequent moons, as aside from her being perfectly suited to serve his daughter as a replacement parent, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes upon. That is until he was introduced to the remarkable person who owned Regina’s heart. He had to concede then to at the very least understanding why events unfolded as they had. After all, there was no greater beauty in all the realms than the green-eyed Northwoman whose smile was bright as the summer sun and whose effortless charm bewitched the entire court.
Leopold was not the only one taken by Red’s affable vivaciousness, either. Snow had herself developed quite an attachment and followed Red around much like an overly eager puppy, which wasn’t all that surprising seeing as how Red doted on her and seemingly indulged her every whim. In many ways, Red was like the big sister Snow had yearned for all her life, and she let it show as she paraded Red around the castle as if a prize she had won and was determined to keep at any expense, heedless of propriety and without any regard for the court’s opinions on a commoner being allowed so close to the Crown Princess. But Snow did not care. In her own way, she loved Red, and Red loved her in return.
Innocent as she was, however, Snow could not recognize the darkness Red kept so carefully concealed behind toothy smiles and belly laughs. No, that darkness she only Regina see.
She saw it in the woods on a ride, when she would oft be accompanied by a wolf half as high as her beloved steed, Rocinante, whose claws dug gouges into the earth and whose cunning eyes and razor sharp canines sent critters of every shape and size scurrying for safety. Or when the moon was full, baleful howls would echo through the forests adjacent to the palace, and Regina would grin at the palpable terror present upon the visage of every guard and relish in the quaking of every soldier who quaked in their armor at the prospect of hunting the great beast who haunted the surrounding countryside. And she saw it most frequently late at night when they were in their chambers, those green eyes would glow an ethereal golden hue that dimmed or brightened with the waxing and waning of passions that could as violent as they were ardently sensual.
Which is why she could never fully divulge Red’s identity to Snow or reveal what transpired to dredge from the recesses of their hearts the secret love she and Red harbored for one another since the flower of adulthood bloomed for two girls separated by class and forbidden by gender to indulge such affections.
But to appease the relentless girl, she would divulge a morsel that would at least satisfy whatever urgency was spurring Snow’s inquiry, enough of a truth to be acceptable to a mind that did not enjoy probing too deeply into things that were unsavory or upsetting.
After a calming breath and with practiced grace, Regina inserted a bookmark to hold her page and then set the book aside.
“If you must know then, I cared for Red since the day she stood up to me on behalf of one of her friends.”
“Yes, that I’ve heard before,” Snow said. “And that’s not what I asked. I asked how you knew she was the one you wanted to love for the rest of your life. It’s a simple question. Why won’t you just tell me?”
“Because the answer is not simple, Snow, much as you clearly believe it to be. Love is complicated and life even more so. In time you will understand this.”
“What I understand is that you evade this every time I bring it up. You’re hiding something. I may be young and naive in your eyes, but I can tell when you’re lying.”
“I’m not lying,” Regina growled, all previous consideration for Snow’s satisfaction evaporating like so much water vapor. “And I resent the accusation.”
Snow straightened up then as petulance replaced curiosity. “Resent it all you like. I’ll have the truth from you still.”
Now Regina also raised up, her blood beginning to boil with anger. “Why are being so pigheaded about this? My relationship with Red is none of your business.”
“You forget yourself, Regina,” Snow said, eyes hard. “I am your future Queen. As such I demand honesty as is required of all subjects to the crown.”
“You’re not my Queen yet, girl, and even if you were I would not heel to you. I submit to none but my wife!”
“I will not tolerate such impertinence from anyone,” Snow shouted, erupting from her chair. “Not even you. You will tell me what I wish to know now. I demand it as much as your friend as your future sovereign. You owe this to me!”
Standing herself, Regina lunged at Snow until they were nearly nose to nose. “I owe you nothing! I saved your wretched life, you ungrateful urchin, and this is how you repay me? By interrogating me over a subject irrelevant to your immature flights of fantasy.”
“All subjects are relevant to me. Now answer the question!”
“In the face of such unwarranted hostility, I patently refuse.”
“Answer the question, Regina!”
“No, Snow, I will not.”
“Answer the question, Regina!”
“I said no, you vexatious child.”
“Answer the question, Regina!”
“No!”
“Answer the question, Regina!”
And then Regina’s anger faded, as with that last demand she had recognized a glimpse of sheer desperation in Snow’s eyes that reminded her of a time she’d seen it within her own from her reflection in the mirror. There was a time she had been on the fringes of utter despair, clinging to hope that seemed to be rapidly fading that she might escape the hell that was her existence. Back then, she had no agency in her in future, either, and had heard whispered rumors among the household staff about how her parents intended to soon marry her off to improve their lot. Being the seventh son of a king afforded certain luxuries, but for a certain miller’s daughter, that was never enough.
She deflated, sinking back into her chair. “My mother died.”
“What?” Snow asked, clearly befuddled by Regina’s abrupt mood shift.
“My mother died,” Regina repeated so that Snow could hear, and did not conceal the turmoil she felt at the confusing alloy of pain and joy she felt during those trying days as she spoke. “My mother died and Red was there when no one else was and I wouldn’t have survived without her. She picked up the pieces of me that were broken and put them back together with a kindness and patience and love I had never experienced. She saved me, Snow, and that’s how I knew she was the one.”
“Oh.” And then Snow’s countenance crumbled with sympathy as she lowered to her knees on the floor before Regina and took her hand with all of her typical noble earnestness. “Oh, Regina, I’m so sorry! That’s awful. But I’m so glad Red was there to help you through that terrible loss and that you’ve trusted me enough to tell me. I promise you won’t regret it.”
Which was true in a sense because Snow did not know enough to do any real damage. She only knew what parts of the story Regina was willing to concede and manipulate in order to protect what was most precious to her. For while she trusted Snow, it was with limits.
Snow would never know exactly how Regina’s mother died. Or most vitally, who had killed Cora and why. And for Red’s sake, that was a secret that Regina would to the grave.
Sadly, a career change/new job means my days of writing long fics are likely over. Content such as the ficlets inspired by a certain brilliantly talented Ruby Lucas stan will continue as the inspiration strikes.
That said, I have taken a decade long writing break in the past, so I suppose anything can happen.
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“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Regina,” Snow says, slurring her words ever-so-slighty as she toys with the peeling label on her second beer of the night. She leans heavily against a stone sober Emma, the designated driver for the latest installment of their bimonthly girls night out, who rolls her eyes affectionately at her mother’s rookie tolerance for alcohol.
“What’s that, dear?” Regina replies, chin resting in her left hand, eyes just this side of glassy but happy after three fingers of top shelf bourbon.
“What are the rings for?” Snow asks, gesturing with the beer at Regina’s right hand and the three ribbed platinum rings circling her thumb through ring fingers.
Regina feels Ruby’s hand move beneath hers, a reflexive response that elicits an uncharacteristically dopey smile. While they have been together almost four months now, she has yet remained wary of public displays of affection, which have never really been her cup of tea. She blames the lapse in control on alcohol induced sentimentality, and also on Ruby’s maddeningly infectious tactility.
“Probably because she likes them,” Emma interjects as she wipes at a spot of alcohol her mother had sloshed onto her jeans.
“Well, Ruby most certainly does,” Regina wistfully answers, then wiggles the fingers in absentminded suggestion, totally oblivious that she had spoken aloud what was supposed to be only a thought.
“Really? That surprises me,” Snow replies, utterly and adorably ignorant of the subtext and the awkward silence that had suddenly fallen over their previously lively commiseration. “I always took her for a cocktail kind of girl.”
The response just sort of slips out of Regina before she can stop it.
“Believe you me, she likes that, too. Such a snug fit...”
She becomes painfully aware of her mistake when, simultaneously, Zelena begins cackling uncontrollably, Belle emits a scandalized gasp, Emma nearly chokes on the water she had just sipped on, and Ruby squawks out an indignant, “Regina! Oh, my God, you did not just say that out loud!”
A blush spreads over Regina’s face when she realizes what she’s done. And if had not been for Snow’s outrageously oblivious response, she might have been horrified at the embarrassing – for both herself and Ruby – and otherwise regrettable verbal miscue. Maybe. Probably not.
“Oh!” Snow squeals merrily as whatever was left of decorum at their table evaporates. “I just had the best idea, Ruby! I’ll come over some time this week and we can compare sizes like we used to in the palace!”
“Mom, for the love of God, please just stop,” Emma groans as everyone else bursts into raucous laughter.
“What? I just wanna see how big Ruby’s are. I bet Regina’s got her some real whoppers…”
