#redqueen

[june-rambles]

ot4: emma swan x belle french x regina mills x ruby lucas (ouat) (+ hcs)

@polyamships day 20: fairytales divider cred

[lilo-jacos]

Canon Red Queen Facts that Aren't Acknowledged Enough:

- Shade gets motion sick even as a jumper

- Cal has a massive sweet tooth

- Mare broke her arm as a kid because she jumped off the porch when Kilorn dared her to

- Farley blushes when getting yelled at by her father

- When you're pregnant with a burner your stomach area heats up very easily so you have to be under close watch

- Ruth always smiles at Cal's muscles

- Gisa had a crush on Kilorn since they were little and no matter how perfect she was she would always try to impress him

- Maven's favorite color is purple

[oceanqueen02]

While I am a diehard swanqueen shipper I went down the Redqueen rabbit hole and became obsessed so now...

Redqueen au where Regina and Red start dating pre-season one during the curse (like before Regina even has the idea to adopt Henry) and at first, it starts off as another form of petty revenge on Regina's part, but it slowly spirals out of control until by the time Emma shows up the two are married and have been raising Henry together for ten years. Like, I'm imagining Regina just showing up to Granny's one day for breakfast, and she sees "Mary Margaret" and "Ruby" laughing together, and she remembers how they were friends in the enchanted forest and so she can't resist starting to flirt with Red just a little. And it's all just a bit of harmless fun, right? After all, it isn’t like it's going anywhere or like it means anything, and neither of them will remember the next day anyway. Except Regina is already starting to get bored with the curse, and maybe she already finds Ruby at least a little attractive, so she keeps doing it. Especially when, as time goes on, Ruby starts to flirt back. And slowly, it stops being about Snow at all as Regina starts spending more and more time at the diner coming by for lunch or dinner and sometimes staying late until close with the two of them talking and forming a genuine connection. And I honestly can't decide if they get together before or after Henry is adopted because on the one hand, I like the idea of Henry being the one to get them together with Red becoming smitten with the clearly overwhelmed new single mother and getting Regina's attention by being the only one who can help calm Henry down in those early days after Regina brought him home but on the other hand I also like the idea of them being an already established couple who end up choosing to adopt Henry together. Either way they get together and are happy up until Henry gets the storybook and realizes about the curse so he goes and gets Emma who breaks the curse and I'm imagining season 2 with Regina and Red having a full blown divorce arc with Red taking Henry and going to stay at Granny's with her and Emma basically trading off custody of Henry and Red is angry and torn between her loyalty to Snow and the rest of her friends and her lingering feelings for Regina with Regina having her redemption arc Kickstarted by her desire not just to get Henry back but to prove herself worthy of him and Red and the two of them slowly falling back in love again

[valyrianheirs]

Rhaenys and Meleys

This will be the last time... :(

[hiimeri]

descendants jay x reader

The sky above the Isle is cloudy and grey. The kind of grey that presses down on buildings, making them look worse than they are. The kind that turns everything into a bruise, yellowed, aching, just shy of rotten. The light that filters through is dim, soft, and makes everything feel like a half-formed dream. One of the bad ones. The kind you wake up from still clenching your fists.

The voices around you are loud, cheers, jeers, angry shouting, but you can’t be bothered to try and understand. Just noise. All of it. They aren’t cheering for you. They never are.

The boy who tried to take your things is sprawled on the broken pavement. Face swollen, eye already closing, blood leaking from his lip as he spits out a broken tooth. He looks up at you, still angry. Still dumb enough to think he could win.

Stupid.

Your knuckles are bleeding. Your breath is still coming too fast. As you sit up and look down at the boy, you smile. It’s too wide. Too sharp. The blood smeared across your mouth only makes it worse.

“You want my territory? Earn it,” you growl, voice ragged.

He doesn’t move.

Smart. Too late, but smart.

You give him one last kick to the ribs, not hard, just enough to make a point, then turn and disappear into the nearest alley. You don’t stay for the reactions. They’re already fading, like everything else. Cheers always do. They aren’t real. Not for you. Only for the fight.

Your boots crunch over broken glass and something wet you don’t bother to look at. The alley stinks like garbage and something chemical. Familiar. Comforting, in a way.

People scatter when they see you. It always hurts, that silence and fear after a fight. It’s like everyone’s asking themselves if they’re next.

Your hand throbs with every heartbeat, warm and slick in your pocket. The metallic taste of blood coats your tongue, and you can’t tell if it’s yours or his. Probably both.

You hate how your vision blurs at the edges. How the buzz in your ears isn’t adrenaline, but exhaustion.

For now, you walk with purpose, even if you don’t know where you’re going. Standing still makes you feel like you might sink into the concrete and vanish.

And if you disappeared? Would anyone care?

Your father wouldn’t, even if he were alive. He was a man with no attachments, had you with some woman he found on a lonely night after he was first thrown onto the Isle. He only ever paid attention to you for training.

So you pushed harder, seeking his attention in training, even when your legs were black and blue, even when exhaustion burrowed deep into your bones and left you in too much pain to sleep.

You thought training was the only time he’d ever talk to you… until your first fight.

You lost, your father’s ways didn’t beat dirty fighting. Two held you by the arms while the third slammed a fist into your stomach.

That was the first time your father spoke to you about anything that wasn’t a correction. Maybe you imagined it, but you swore you saw a flicker of concern in his eyes, quickly buried under anger. But that little bit of concern felt good in a way you didn’t even know you could feel.

You remember the first time he said your name without yelling it. You were eleven, your lip split and blood running down your shirt. He looked at you, not with pride, not even disappointment, just recognition. And that was enough to hook you like a fish.

You started chasing that look like an addict after a fix.

He only noticed you when you came home bleeding, a black eye here, a busted lip there. Suddenly, he was talking to you. Asking questions. Telling you to be careful, to not embarrass him, even if it was through clenched teeth. That had to mean something, right? That had to count.

He never asked what started the fights. Never asked if you won because you wanted to or because you had to. All he saw was blood. All you saw was that he finally saw you.

So you chased it, getting into more fights, winning them just to see that flicker of pride in Shan Yu’s face. And after his death, you looked for that emotion somewhere else.

Maybe if you got hurt badly enough, someone would finally notice. Finally look. Finally worry. Worry felt like love. At least to you. It always had.

You wonder what kind of scream would finally get someone to come running. If you drowned yourself in front of Uma’s crew, would they cheer or mourn? Would anyone even lie and say you were strong?

Even if it didn’t feel good, it still felt like something.

You reach the old building near the market and start climbing, your body moving on autopilot. This place has been yours for a while now, one of the only places you can go when you want to be alone, or when you want someone to follow. And right now, you don’t even know which it is.

A shadow moves behind you, fast and familiar.

You don’t think. Your heart thumps in your ears as you spin, blade already drawn, and press it to the intruder’s throat.

You don’t ease up. Not right away.

The edge of the blade rests against skin, not deep enough to cut, but enough to threaten. Enough to say don’t push me. Enough to say I don’t trust easy. Even you.

Then you hear it.

That voice. His voice.

“Careful, sweetheart.”

Smooth. Unbothered. Like he isn’t just one heartbeat away from bleeding. Like this isn’t the tenth time he’s caught you mid-swing.

You exhale, slow and shaky, the tension draining from your shoulders like a deflating balloon. You lower the knife, but your grip stays tight.

You don’t apologize. You never do.

You look him in the eyes, even with blood still dripping from your nose and bruises along your throat, and straighten, looking him up and down.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on me.”

Jay raises an eyebrow, amused in that cocky, infuriating way only he can be. “You were the one storming off like a rabid wolf. I followed to make sure you didn’t bite someone’s head off.”

You snort, blood still fresh on your tongue. “Too late.”

His eyes flick down to your hands, split, raw, starting to shake now that the adrenaline’s fading. He doesn’t comment, just steps closer. Closing the space like he always does. And like always, you let him.

“You keep doing this,” he says, voice low, “and one day someone’s gonna gut you in your sleep.”

You shrug. “Let them try.”

But he doesn’t laugh. Not this time.

His fingers reach for your hand, slow, careful. Giving you the chance to pull away.

You don’t.

He scans your face, looking for your reaction. His thumb brushes a cut on your knuckle, gentle. You flinch.

“Still hurts,” he says quietly. Obvious.

You look at him. Really look. And something behind your eyes flickers, a crack in the mask. Not weakness. Not regret. Just… weight. The kind that sits in your chest and steals your air.

Something twists in your stomach, a sick kind of satisfaction at seeing him worry. Like proof that you matter. That you still exist.

“Everything hurts, Jay,” you whisper. “I don’t remember the last time something didn’t.”

It comes out smaller than you meant. Like it slipped past your defenses before you could pull it back.

The wind threatens to swallow the words, but he hears them. He always does.

His hand tightens around yours.

“I know.”

And for a second, just one, you lean into him. You let the world fall away. Let the knife hang loose at your side. Let your broken, bloodied hand be held like it’s something worth holding.

You’ll blame it on the adrenaline later. You’ll joke about being dramatic or tired or losing too much blood. But he’ll know better.

You’re running thin.

So when you hug him, really hug him, arms squeezing tight even though it hurts, even though the bruises scream in protest, it’s not a slip.

You think about pushing him away, saying something cruel to cover up the tightness in your throat. But your arms don’t move. Neither does he. For once, the silence isn’t sharp, it’s warm. It wraps around you like a bandage. Like a maybe.

“You scare me when you do this,” he says, voice low. “Because I never know if it’s the last time I’ll see you still breathing.”

You want to tell him you scare yourself, too. That sometimes, when the world goes quiet, the only voice left is the one that wants you gone. You hate needing him. Hate the way his presence makes you feel something other than rage or nothing at all.

But you don’t step back. Not yet.

_______________________________________

i learned how to write x reader fics, hahaha, english is weird

meriout!

[planetmaven]

i'm almost done rereading Glass Sword by Victoria Aveyard, and I've just realized something about Cal that I didn't notice before.

Growing up, Cal was never my favorite. I favored Maven so much, maybe even a little too much. So, Cal was very annoying to me? I hated his every line and I was very irritated with every word he said and every action he took. But I was 13 at that time.

I am 17 years old now. And I've found a sense of maturity I didn't realize I had once discovering this.

Cal Calore is a burning flame. He is passionate and driven, with a kind heart, but he is indecisive, and this flaw drags him down.

I noticed just how often his trauma is overlooked. Cal lost everything. His mother, at a young age. His father. His brother. His friends. His kingdom. His home. His titles. The list goes on. He was taken from everything he knew and slammed down into an entire new world.

He wasn't even welcomed by the Reds. The first thing they did to Cal was lock him up alone when they reached Tuck.

And then when they met Nix, Nix was immediately taunting Cal for being "seduced by Mare into killing his father", but once Cal reveals the truth of what happened, they all fell silent.

No one. Not a single person, except probably Mare, has asked Cal if he was okay.

Cal lost everything. I mean literally everything. And not once in the whole book did we see him cry, break down, or fall apart.

That is a kind of strength I could never imagine.

[leighcrescentbooks]

been working on my book again now that nursing school apps are over and i can't stop thinking about the lunar chronicles and aurora rising squads because i feel like my book has the same squad dynamics. except it's set in a hunger games + red queen dystopian fantasy-esque world.

[blinkthriceformaybe]

Prompts

If you see this, feel free to send me prompts! I typically write:

Bellamione

WLW Mauraders Era/Generation (so no sirius/remus or james/snape or anything like that, sorry. strictly femslash/wlw)

Swan Queen

Dragon Queen

Red Queen