queen-for-a-day

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Well, I’m sure you deserved it 
sassing each other since day one 

62/365 Days of Outlaw Queen

Hindsight:  An Adoption Day drabble...of sorts

So this is my first belated offering for OQ week. I hope you all enjoy it even though technically OQ week is over. I do have another adoption day idea as well as plans for a “Teach Me” drabble. But I think I’ll finish the next intalment of “Her” first. 

For the precious and talented starscythe who inspired this train of thought. 


Hindsight: 

It’s his scent she first notices. Clean. Woodsy. A mixture of pine and earth muted by the sweat of physical work and dirt beneath the fingernails. It’s a scent she likes, one she finds appealing and soft, not soft in the sense of cotton or silk, but rather in the manner of moss, or grass, or piles of freshly fallen leaves left alone for the enjoyment of children and the occasional spontaneous adult.

He moves towards her then.

His warmth approaches in steady strides, not to fast, not too slow. He stops a comfortable distance from her, allowing soft billows of air brushed by human breath and skin to tickle her senses, giving her a moment to size him up as best she can at a first meeting.

“Miss Mills?”

His voice is deep, but not overly so, a bit rough around the edges yet plump with gentleness. It’s a texture that reminds her of a broken in quilt, one that’s been hand-stitched and pieced together with care, one capable of warding off the chills of life by its mere presence and pliability. A good sign, she thinks, especially for a man who does what he does, and she allows herself to take a step forward, extending her hand with what she hopes is a confident smile. 

“Regina,” she clarifies. The hand that greets hers is neither soft nor rough, but one of a working man who takes care of himself but doesn’t bother with niceties. “And you’re Mr. Locksley?”

His grip is firm, not painful, and his hands smell of Irish Spring soap. She scrunches her nose without thinking as fragments of clover and mint dust through her nostrils and into her sinuses, simultaneously noting a coarseness to his skin she rather likes. 

“Robin,” he states. His grin gives his voice a melodic lilt. “Please—just Robin.” 

He’s closer now, and her pores react as if on cue. He’s taller than she is, she realizes, feeling his breath feather across top of her hair, and although she’s not sure why that should matter, she finds that she is pleased by the fact. 

“Robin,” she echoes, noting that he steps in just hair nearer as she utters his name. He clears his throat as he shifts slightly on his feet, and she hears him rub the back of his neck with the hand that isn’t clutching hers.

“You’re here to meet Miss Belle, then?” he asks, releasing her hand, exposing it to the coolness of empty air. She misses the warmth immediately and clutches the stick she holds in her other hand even tighter.

“Miss Belle?” she questions, hearing Henry’s hurried approach from behind. He’s breathing somewhat heavily as he moves to her side, the keys dangling noisily from his fingers, and she makes a mental note to discuss with him just how much is too much after-shave for a sixteen year old to wear.

“Short for the name my son bestowed upon her,” Robin explains, his attention now divided between mother and son. “Tinkerbelle.” 

“Strange name for a Labrador,” Henry muses with a laugh, piping down rather quickly when she shoots him a reprimanding look. “Sounds more like a name for a little dog.”

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Apple pie

OQ week 3 - Belated Day 7 - Midnight Confessions

ff.net link

During the beginning of the Missing Year in the castle…

An unrecognizable sweet smell invades Robin’s nostrils, as he patrols the dark corridors of the castle, and he follows it with curiosity. He has been living in the Queen’s castle, along with his son, his Merry Men and the people they have found in the forest, for a few days, and almost every meal has been a surprise for him. Granny Lucas has taken on cooking duties and Robin can tell that the food they’ve been eating has been inspired by the life the dark curse had created for those people in another realm. Roland is impressed by the variety of flavors, and Robin can’t help but wonder what is being cooked right now somewhere in the castle. Making Roland happy is Robin’s number one priority and if another delicious meal makes his son grin and squeal with joy, then Robin has to find it and take it to him.

It’s late at night and the castle is silent. His boots on the stone floor echo in the deserted corridors and his shadow on the walls looks much larger than the actual size of his body. Robin clutches his arrow, prepared to deal with any possible threat that might come his way. No one has gotten into any kind of danger since the Wicked Witch left after her confrontation with the Queen, but everyone has been on high alert in case the green witch, or a monkey with wings, decides to reappear.

Robin reaches a wooden door where the intoxicating aroma is apparently coming from. It’s half open and when he looks inside, he realizes that it’s another kitchen, much smaller than the one he has seen Granny using. Robin guesses that it was probably the servants’ kitchen, back when the Queen lived permanently in the castle. He slips into the room, looking around for any sign of the person who just used it.

No one is there. A pie lies on one of the counters and the way it looks reminds Robin of the delicious blueberry pie he had for breakfast a couple of days ago. A basket full of apples is at one corner of the room and it’s not difficult for Robin to imagine that the pie is filled with apples instead of berries and the Queen herself has baked it.

Apples have been a forbidden subject inside these castle’s walls. A secret everyone knows about, but they don’t dare bringing it up. There are rumors about the Queen though. People say that they see her sitting under an old apple tree, always sad and pensive, and no one but Snow White approaches her. Quite a lot of surprised gasps came out of the Merry Men’s mouths when they heard that. They are aware of the story of the poisoned apple the Queen had once given to Snow White and that makes them worried about the Princess.

Robin, on the other hand, is not worried about the younger woman. He’s worried about the Queen instead. He hasn’t seen her at all since the rest of their people have joined them in the castle, but her state that night, and their brief conversations, were enough to give him take a glimpse of the woman hiding behind the Queen’s mask.

There are used ingredients on the other counter of the kitchen and it’s obvious to Robin that the Queen was preparing a second apple pie. He wonders what made her leave the kitchen in a hurry. He believes there’s no danger inside the castle’s grounds; there are guards everywhere and if there was an attack, he’s sure it wouldn’t be as silent as the night is now. Besides, from what he’s seen and heard from her, he knows that the Queen would be the first to try to stop a possible attack into her home.

Robin finds the Queen close to the small kitchen, in the middle of another empty corridor. She jumps when she hears his steps on the staircase that leads to the corridor, gasping audibly, seemingly in surprise that another person is there during the night.

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My Birthday Book Haul / Part One


  • A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E.Schwab (thanks to mismatchedelfsocks!)
  • The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller (thanks to loquaciouslyliterate!)
  • Outlander box set (Outlander, Dragonfly in Amber, Voyager, and Drums of Autumn) by Diana Gabaldon

And not shown (because I got them on kindle)

  • Falling Kingdoms by Morgan Rhodes
  • Travel Glasses by Chess Desalls
  • The Queen of the Tearling by Erika Johansen
  • The Lie Tree by Frances Hardinge
  • The Accident Season by Moïra Fowley-Doyle

Rather quick to post, seeing as I’ve only been awake for a few hours, but I was too excited!

Arrow Summer Movie AU Challenge– 80′s Movies (Week 10)

Top Gun AU

On March 3, 1969 the United States Navy established an elite school for the top one percent of its pilots. Its purpose was to teach the lost art of aerial combat and to insure that the handful of men who graduated were the best fighter pilots in the world. They succeeded. Today, the Navy calls it Fighter Weapons School. The flyers call it: TOP GUN.

Oliver “Maverick” Queen knew after the first day of Fighter Weapons School that he would be number one in the class.  It didn’t matter that everyone else in that room was at the top of wherever they came from– because Oliver had something none of them did.  He had style.  Plus, he had the best RIO by his side, Tommy “Goose” Merlyn, who alternated between getting Oliver into more trouble, and getting him out of it.

They found a bar that evening after their introduction to the school, somewhere to blow off some steam, meet some people in the area, make the acquaintance of some beautiful and local women– women who may or may not be enthused by the look of a man in uniform.  They certainly didn’t wear their dress whites to the bar for each other.

“This is what I call a target rich environment,” Oliver said with a grin as he dropped onto a bar stool and looked around. The women were abundant, the skirts were short and the skin was tanned.  Oliver was going to fit in just fine in southern California, he was sure of it.

Tommy clamped a hand over Oliver’s shoulder with a disapproving eye roll.  “You live your life between your legs, man.”

“I remember a not so distant past in which we both lived that way,” Oliver answered.  Because for as long as they’d been partners in an F14, they were friends first and foremost.  They had been wild in their youth and even though Tommy had settled down with Laurel- gotten married and now had a 4 year old son, Oliver hadn’t been lucky enough to find someone worth taming his wild ways.  Sometimes he envied having someone to come home to, but mostly he just lived his life and enjoyed being in the moment.  And at that moment, his life was looking pretty spectacular.

“Hey Mav,” Tommy said, taking a seat beside Oliver at the bar and gesturing to a man in the back corner.  “You want to know who the best is?  That’s him.  Ice Man.”

Oliver had heard of Slade “Ice Man” Wilson.  He was cold and calculated and strict.  He clung to the rule book with precision and his accuracy at carrying out missions couldn’t be rivaled.  But that didn’t make him better than Oliver.  It just made Ice Man a good and dutiful soldier.  Nothing more.

“Hey Mother Goose,” Slade grinned at Tommy, coming over to them.  “Who’s butt did you kiss to get in here?”

“The list is long, but distinguished,” the man in question answered.

“Yeah, well, so is my johnson.”

Tommy let the quip go. “So Slade, this is Oliver Queen.  Ollie, this is Slade Wilson.”

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