#he should move to portland and leave her alone

[unalloyedmiquella]

this fake nonbinary man my coworker is dating is playing her so hard and she will not listen to reason

[inkskinned]

people have to make their own choices and make their own mistakes and you know that but you're on your third gin cocktail.

she's almost-angry while she talks. "he took the train with me. all the way home. it's an hour in the wrong direction." she's got a bright yellow raincoat and round glasses. she looks cute and thoughtful and like she reads books a lot. she's his type and you know that.

the bartender rolls her eyes and points to you. "he drove this one to her grandma's house. six hours both ways."

you were younger then, hadn't ever kissed a girl yet. were still saying "bicurious" because of your irish catholic family. it was so long ago skinny jeans were still socially acceptable.

and you'd met him, and he'd been perfect. his narrow face and dark hair and his wry self-deprecation. and - okay, yes, the fact he was a singer/songwriter was also hot. you liked the feeling of sundays with him, the two of you noodling through his new songs together while you slowly learned to play bass guitar. you liked writing his name on your converse. you liked his ironic "mom" tattoo and his fancy coffee obsession and his scrappy handwriting.

you didn't know, then, what kind of man he was. maybe he didn't either; he was young too. you say it into your earl-grey-gin-something. "he has... a playbook, i guess. the things he does... he does it with everyone."

she looks at you with wide, beautiful eyes. jesus christ, she's young. "we stood outside in the rain, just talking," she says. "i know that can't be fake. i have a ton of, like. examples here. he's a good guy. you should have seen him. i'm not, like, a complete idiot."

did you play defense attorney with him like this? did you bristle when others warned you about how quickly he leaves women?

you gnaw the thin black straw and stare at the other side of the building, where his band is setting up to play. you have no true rage against him, but it's not fun to watch him ruin other women. "did he get you a little stuffed animal yet?" yours had been a panda.

she stares at you and then nods, just once, stiffly.

you hold out your hand and start listing things, weighing them on your fingers. "did he tell you that he'd never seen someone like you, that you move like a dancer or something?" at her nod, you continue. "buys you ice cream and then drives up to the river to watch the stars? shows up at your place just because he missed your voice? takes you to the pet store to look at the fish?"

the bartender points at you. "don't forget he does that little dog game he does."

you close your eyes. you remember him in his stupid leather jacket, bouncing on his toes. he'd gotten the petstore clerk to allow him to handle a ferret. you had vibrated with joy, wrestling the noodle bodies from hand to hand. and then he'd said we're going to live together. we're going to get a big dog and a big lawn and -

"you get into a fake fight about what you'll name the dog," you monotone.

"chili," she says. she sets her jaw a little higher, and you catch a flash of muscle clenching. "we settled on chili. it's gonna be an irish setter."

the bartender snorts while she maneuvers deftly through making a batch of espresso martinis. "sounds about right. now i've got two rotties, but when that shit happened to me? we chose Portland. and we were gonna get a samoyed." she snorts again. "as if he could afford that grooming bill."

you had actually started that conversation in the pet store. you wanted a big, slobbery dog. a mutt, but a big mutt. something mastiff-like. something that you could walk alone at night with. your family has a tradition of "letting the dog name itself," where you'd write all the potential names on a piece of paper and then throw them. whatever the dog went to, it'd be the dog's name.

but he had said name it something girly since it's so big. he suggested Lavender or Pansy. at the time you'd thought it was funny and cut and sort of sweet. he wanted to pick up a dog from the ASPCA that weekend, he said. i'm gonna go get us Lavender. you hadn't learned yet that he would promise you a river but never even deliver a raindrop.

"it's like this every time, babe," the bartender says, not unkindly. "i'm sorry. i've seen too many like this, and you seem like a sweet kid."

the other woman bristles. "i'm not a kid. thanks for your advice. but." she stands up, slaps a ten down, stalks away.

the bartender looks at you and holds her hands up and shrugs. you shake your head and look down into the drink, stirring it idly.

"do you think he's written her the four lines yet?" the bartender asks, pushing a drink to someone.

you almost flinch, but don't. you'd been in the back shed, practicing together. he said he had a present for you - the beginnings of a new song. really just a couplet more than anything, barely more than 30 seconds. it should have made you feel glorious, feral, glowing.

but you had stood there, realizing you had books of songs about him, none of which he ever agreed to play. the song he'd written you had floated through the room and you felt strange and disconnected and insane all at once - it was such a vapid, stupid stanza he'd made. and then he said that terrible phrase - i love you babe.

and you had been suddenly both very out of your body and also very present, thinking: oh my god this guy is a buffoon and i'm wasting my time. the spiralbound notebook with pages of poems and lyrics and stories you'd written for him is now stashed in some rubbermaid. you'd wanted to burn it at first, but the effort had exhausted you.

the four lines of song are usually pretty banal - something about her eyes, something about her smile, something about how she's special. but they work. they always work, because people want to believe in the magical commodity of love - that it cannot be manufactured.

later in the night you watch that man get on stage and sing punk rock to a thinning crowd. he takes the time out of the setlist to try out a "new song" that goes out to his girl in the crowd, all of 30 seconds of music. he says he likes her eyes and her smile and she's special.

you think about stopping her physically. you think about showing her the group chat of exes in your phone. you think of how young she is - maybe 22? - and how you, at 22, would have told your current self fuck right off. you had believed it too, after all. people need to make their own choices. besides. maybe you're wrong. maybe this time it actually is that precious, starry, once-in-a-lifetime love.

you see her kiss him afterwards, her cheeks pink. it looks like a puppy being swallowed by a wolf. you have to check the floor to make sure no blood was spilled.

[sandy-the-glader]

Happy Halloween Stranger

Character: George Karim x Fem!Reader

Type: Fluff

Length: 1.5k words

Summary: George comes across a beautiful Fittes agent he's never seen before. She's there to cure his boredom at the Fittes Halloween party and he wants to know more about her by the minute. Did I mention this is a masquerade and he has absolutely no idea who she is or how to find her?

Trope: Strangers to Lovers

A/n: This was fun to write so lmk if you want a part 2 or smth but this is a special for Halloween. A few more one-shots should come out next month so I'll get on that but like I'm in the mood to write for Mike Schmidt since the fnaf movie just came out soo hit up the inbox lol but anyways Happy Halloween everyone!!

George sat lonely at a table with a glass of champagne in his hand. He watched the dance floor as couples twirled together giggling at each other. One of those couples being Lucy and Lockwood. For the past few months at Portland Row, he had to deal with the constant third wheeling between them. Even on missions or even simple research jobs.

He swirled his drink in his hand and sighed. They had been dancing for hours and having fun by barely giving him a second glance. A mysterious woman seemed to take notice of it. George took a swig of champagne and slumped further into his seat wanting very much to leave the event and entirely disappear. He hated parties, especially a posh masquerade where he didn't know who anyone was beneath the mask.

He would honestly rather be handing out candy to the trick of treaters that came by and he hated that too.

-

I scanned his features well the ones I could see without him taking off his mask. After asking around the party I found out his name was George Karim. He works for the small agency of Lockwood and Co. There was something that drew me towards him. I don't know he looked so lonely and he wasn't like the rest of the guys here.

My feet started to walk over to his table, moving past all the rest of the masked folks. I couldn't care about any of these people here. My team was god knows where and I couldn't tell them apart from the other people here for the life of me. They were probably tipsy and making out with their partners on the dance floor. I want to have a little fun tonight. It was Halloween and I was not about to have a boring and wasted night.

I pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. The boy's eyes were immediately attached to my face out of confusion. They were a beautiful brown and they danced in the light.

His mask was also insanely creative. It was half gray half orange with swirls of black. Some of his dark curls fell over it.

"Some friends you have hm?" I spoke up nodding towards the other two members of Lockwood and Co. which were Lucy Carlyle and Anthony Lockwood. They were much more well-known than George Lockwood always being in the spotlight lately with his amazing achievements and Lucy as his partner in crime. George wasn't in the pictures they had in newspapers, let alone he wasn't mentioned much.

"What?" He quite obviously heard the question he was just startled that someone seemed to be talking to him.

"Your team," I spoke again. "they're out on the dance floor just enjoying themselves but I mean what about you? You look bored and don't seem to be enjoying your time here. Am I correct?" His brown eyes softened beneath the mask and he nodded slowly. He looked skeptical of this conversation but he seemed to be leaning into it. "Look, I've noticed they haven't been over here in perhaps an hour or more."

"Yeah but why is that your concern?" He huffed. I took out a pen and started to draw on a napkin on the table.

"I know I'm right. And you're right too, it isn't my concern but, you haven't told me to leave you alone yet." I pointed out. He sat up.

"Because I appreciated the company." He admitted. I finished writing on the napkin and shoved it in my pocket.

"So George Karim of Lockwood and Co. tell me why you're here in the first place? Since you seem to hate parties so much?"

"They forced me to. They wanted me to get out of the house and do something fun like go to a dance because 'I need someone to love' and dance with. They knew I wasn't going to dance here." He crossed his arms with annoyance.

"How about we dance?" He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at me oddly. "Look I'm not saying you gotta love me but if your friends see you dancing and at least looking like you are enjoying yourself, you could go home quicker. I mean that was the whole point of coming here right?"

"And the fact they wanted to have a romantic outing." He rolled his eyes and I laughed. "I suppose that's not a bad idea. But sorry to tell you I don't dance with strangers I need to know who's behind the pretty mask." The flirt took me slightly aback.

"Y/n L/n. Come on Karim. The sooner you dance the sooner you're out of here and you can get back to whatever you were doing before."

"Do we need to shake on it since you're so eager to dance with me?" Oh, so he can joke I thought he almost wasn't able to for a second.

"Hey, I'm trying to save a bored boy at a posh old person's party be grateful." He smiled softly and we stood up. We made our way to the dance floor. He was insanely stiff.

"Do you even know how to dance Karim?" His eyes widen.

"Erm.. no." He said nervously shaking his head.

"It's okay. Lemme help you so you don't look like Bambi on ice." I took both of his hands and guided them to my hips and I draped my arms over his shoulders. "Now you're just going to move your feet in a smooth pattern. And relax your shoulders you look like a brick." He listened to my advice and I noticed him start to relax under my hands. "There you go! Perfect."

"How'd you learn how to dance?" He asked as we swayed. "Just as a kid. I've bounced around many agencies and they always had balls like these." He nodded understanding. "Though Fittes was the only one I stuck with because of its high reputation."

"Do you enjoy your job though?" He asked genuinely curious.

"The job is definitely something I enjoy doing It's just my team I'm not extremely fond of." I frowned. I looked into my eyes wanting me to continue my small rant. "They're always off on their own and they're extremely careless! I want to put my abilities to good use but I can't with them around." I noted.

"I know what you mean. I used to work here and I didn't think very highly of my team either."

"You did? Why don't you work here anymore? I mean not saying your team now isn't lovely." I glanced over across the dance floor at the duo.

"I got fired." He said throwing me off.

"You got fired? Jeez Karim, what did you do?" I said shocked that he would even be considered a problem. He seems so relaxed.

"Because I asked too many questions and was doing things above my pay grade." He said and shrugged his shoulder lightly.

"Fired for being a smarty pants." Cute. "Now that's something I could see. That's idiotic of them though. Your brain could be used for some good things here. But If you're happy at Lockwood and Co. then I'm happy for you." His cheeks flushed slightly and he looked puzzled but happy.

"Thank you." He murmered. I wanted to see the rest of what was under his mask. I took my hands and cupped his cheek and he copied my action. Maybe he was wondering the same thing. Maybe this could be more than a one-time thing. We seemed to get closer to inch closer together.

Lucy and Lockwood stumbled up to us unexpectedly. We backed away from each other. They were tipsy and they were giggling like school children. George looked surprised to see them and waited for them to talk. While George was distracted I took the napkin I drew on earlier and slipped it into the boy's pocket without him realizing.

"Georgieeeee" Lucy wined. "Your girlfriend is pretty but it's late we have to go." She tugged on his shirt and he stumbled.

"Lucy!" He tried to get her to stop yanking him away but she wouldn't budge. He looked backward at me and I waved.

"Goodnight 'Georgie' Happy Halloween." I smiled. He looked upset leaving but that was what he wanted wasn't it? To get home and not have to deal with these people. That was the whole plan.

-

As soon as I got home, I guided Lucy and Lockwood upstairs so they didn't fall they giggled the entire way up. The entire way.

"Goodnight Georgie!" Lucy said before slamming her door. I shook my head and finally entered my room. I collapsed onto my bed. Once I lied down I heard the crinkle of paper. I looked at my bed confused. I cleaned up all my research papers before we left so it couldn't be those.

I felt around the bed and then my pocket. I felt a small indent and I reached into the pocket and pulled it out. There was a small not that said

Just in case you need another dance partner ;)

xxx xxx xxxx

I smiled to myself and placed the napkin on my side table. Defiantly could put that to use later. I ended up having so much more fun than I could have ever thought. Happy Halloween to me.

[idkbubs]

Don't go.

Anthony Lockwood x Lucy Carlyle

Warnings: None. Just tooth rotting fluff.

Based on the promt: Person A intentionally broke the heater so they could snuggle with Person B

It being the middle of winter meant that 35 Portland Row was beyond freezing. Less than 2°C at night had all residents freezing their nips off for hours, finding it uncomfortable to fall asleep when they couldn't even feel their toes.

The boiler no longer worked. The result of an accident down in the basement after Kipps' crew swooping in and stealing the case, the same case they had spent hours relentlessly trying to solve (and some very angry messages left on the thinking cloth). Barnes said there was nothing to be done now, 'it's out of your hands now, give over' played non-stop in Lockwood's head as he swung every emotion out onto the poor dummies. A bit too harsh indeed, one carry through and his rapier went slicing through the boiler and breaking its connection to the radiators within the house.

Lockwood hasn't exactly had the time to fix it, not when the company was facing an upsurge of backlash or heavy duty cases... plus, to be frank, he didn't want to fix it anyways. Not when it led him to something he had been longing for for a while.

The three of them sat on the sofa curled up in blankets and lots of tea to warm them up from the inside out. Lockwood and Lucy layed on the two-seater with only a slight shift of a leg for them to be touching completely. George, on the other hand, chose to sit in the same armchair that has molded to every nook and cranny of his arse, keeping him and his blanket away from the two oblivious lovers.

They sat there, silently watching some random movie that none had cared to change over. It wasn't long before George wanted to hit the hay in the comfort of his own duvet, leaving the two behind. Alone. Together.

"This house is bloody freezing. How did the boiler even break? That was fitted weeks ago."

"I have no clue, went to turn it up and nothing happened."

"This is absolutely shambolic."

Neither of the two teenagers could recall the moment that they had moved closer to one another- close enough for Lucy's head to be resting flat on the boy's shoulder. She grew quiet, Lockwood beginning to miss the complaining sentences leaving her lips, or any words at all for that matter. He tilted his head, looking down at the too quiet figure and finding Lucy peacefully asleep, cuddled into him.

He began having an internal dilemma- stay on the not-so comfortable sofa to ensure Lucy is comfortable or move her to an actual bed. Eventually the latter won the debate. Lockwood shifted her to be against the back pillows, folded he blanket up neatly onto the armchair and dusted his dress trousers off. He gently placed her arms around his shoulder before moving his around her torse and lifted her off the couch, her body immediately falling against his chest, head falling onto his shoulder once again. Keeping one hand on her back, he used the other to pull her right leg around his waist, before swapping and doing the same to the other. Now with Lucy safely secured in his arms (where she should be), he started the journey to the attic.

No one could ever say they had seen Lockwood be so careful in his actions, making sure to be as quiet as possible to not disturb the sleeping beauty he cared so much for.

Lockwood shifted his weight to place her on the bed when something happened that changed his life in a heartbeat.

"Anthony-"

She called for him in her sleep... and not 'Lockwood'. Anthony. She called for him using his first name.

"Please... don't go."

He could't leave now (not ever). He couldn't fathom what she could be dreaming about for her to call for him. He couldn't imagine what made her tighten her hold on him. What made her desperately cling to him like he was her lifeline.

"Shhhh. It's okay love, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Lucy felt the lack of warmth as she was lowered into a mattress that seemed like clouds in her sleepy state. But the warmth soon returned when the bed dipped next to her. Thank heavens she hadn't made her bed that morning, he thought.

He removed his shirt, opting for the most comfort he could get when he has no sleepwear to change into. Hell, he didn't even know where Lucy kept her clothes (that's a lie. He knew exactly where she kept them in her dresser. It just felt too... intimate to do with her asleep and unaware).

Anthony laid down next to her and pulled the duvet up with him. The way that Lucy moved to be against him, arm on his chest, head in the crook of his neck, and her leg drawn up to rest ontop of his, made his heart swell with a feeling he knew all to well whenever he looks at her.

"Mmmh... love you."

He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head, before saying it back to her. Even if she couldn't properly hear him in that moment it was something that he had to let her know.

And he'd be damned if George ever got word of this, so sure that he'd never hear the end of it from their other roomate. But Anthony knew he would do it all again. Anything Lucy would ask, he'd do it all.

For her.

[oceanspray5]

mosaic broken hearts (are held together with scotch tape and white glue)

Jessica Lockwood really should have considered the consequences of leaving her little brother, one Anthony J. Lockwood, all alone for a week right before he was planning something. It wasn’t the first time of course and neither was it the last that she’d been gone for work but it was the first time since she had moved out and since he’d started his agency. The last thing she expected, at the very least, after a week away from London was to come downstairs for a nice cup of tea, only to see a completely unknown girl in a blue sweater sitting at her table already nursing a cup of her own. Her sleep rumpled condition betrayed that she’d clearly spent the night.

Jessica blinked once. Then twice.

"Um… Who are you?"

or, twenty-three year old Jessica Lockwood comes home from a business trip only to find one Lucy Carlyle sitting at the table of 35 Portland Row familiar in the space as if its her own home. Naturally, she has a lot of questions for her little brother and a lot of observations about his relationship with his newest 'associate' too.

For @locklyle-week Day 3: Outsider's POV on Ao3

This started out as a fun lil AU idea and ended up at 15k words with fluff, hurt/comfort, angst and Jessica Lockwood really needing a break from the teens at 35 Portland Row. Please leave a review if you enjoy it since I did my best but am still unsatisfied with how it turned out. Also please anticipate my other fic for Locklyle Week (Day 5: Acts of Service).

[mirroringdust]

Locklyle - Peonies - Is this a marriage proposal?

I hope you enjoy the next part of my Flower series. Let me know what you think and if I should continue it. :)

I was literally standing in a field of peonies. Right now, right here. It was a wonderful place, far away from Portland Row, outside London but just close enough that I didn't feel homesick at all. How could I even when I was with him? Lockwood was standing across from me, between two of the largest grown peonies in the middle of the green leaves. He was out of breath, his chest was rising and falling quickly. A few strands of his hair lost their designated places. His eyes focused on me and I could see in them that he was smiling. We had taken a rare moment of retreat from all the business going on at Portland Row.

I spread my arms out like wings and walked across the field with small leaps but turned around quickly when I realised Lockwood was staring at me. He still smiled.

"Are you making fun of me?"

"No I would never," he showed his cheeky grin which made me want to jump even more. But then his face suddenly changed and became more serious.

"I was just thinking-" he stopped and looked at the peonies instead of me for a moment.

"What if you stayed at Portland Row?" He focused on me again, his eyes fierce now, as if he wanted to stop me from moving and time with me. And he succeeded, something suddenly had changed. The sun shimmered in the air between us. All I could manage was a confused laugh.

Continue reading on AO3

Chapters so far (all one-shots standing completely on their own):

Summaries Chapter 1: Locklyle Kiss Chapter 2: Lucy has a moment on her own with a flower interrupted by George Chapter 3: Lockwood alone before he meets Lucy for the first time Chapter 4: A research moment of George is interrupted by Lockwood Chapter 5: Is this a marriage proposal?

[darkcavewriting]

Day 4

There was no alarm, but I could tell from the sunlight peeking through the blinds, and the smell of coffee and bacon that it was probably morning and that getting my ass up would be in my best interest.  I rubbed my eyes and adjusted to my surroundings, my head was throbbing, what a shock. I stumbled into the kitchen and said good morning to my Aunt Sara and asked where the aspirin was.  She told me to grab the bottle above the coffee pot and to grab a cup of coffee to wash it down with and that would take care of my hangover.  I followed the directions and within a hour after having eggs, toast, and bacon my headache had indeed dissipated.   Watching her in the kitchen I could tell she was still not emotionally alright.  This bothered me, even though given everything it was pretty much to be expected for the both of us.  She looked like she was walking in a daze, and I am sure I looked about just as bad I presumed. “You doing alright over there?” I asked. “I could be a hell of a lot better but I will be alright I guess, just happy I am not here at home alone, that would be a whole lot worse I think,” she said.  “Thank you again for making the drive up here last night, I really appreciate it.” “You got that right, I am happy that I am here as opposed to be back in my dorm,” I said.  “Yeah, Grace is there, but other than that, the dorm room itself kinda sucks, even though I have a room to myself, at least so far.” “So tell me about Grace.” I told her about how we met and how much time we had spent together since we moved into he dorms and how she was there to try and comfort me when I found out about the accident.  I also mentioned how she was really cute as well.   “She really knows how to put a smile on my face.” “So where do you think its going to go?” asked Sara.  “A relationship perhaps?” “Well after the relationship ended with Eva this summer, I don’t know if I want to get back into anything quite this quickly,”  I said. “Oh?” she asked.  “Why did that end?” “She ended up getting a scholarship to play hockey at the University of Minnesota and we decided it likely wouldn’t work out,” I said.  “I should probably let her know about my parents, she always did like them” “Well, my advice then is to let things happen as they do whatever you do, don't rush anything,” said Sara.  “Given the move, and then this, so many major things happening in such a short time span, it wouldn’t be the best to make any other major decisions right now if you didn’t have to, things like this can easily cloud your judgment.” With that the phone on the kitchen wall rang, it was my grandmother calling.  She was calling to say that they got conformation from the authorities in Spokane that the bodies would be arriving in Portland at the funeral home tomorrow and that the funeral would then be scheduled for sometime in the following week.  She advised that Sara and I head out to Portland today if possible or tomorrow at the latest to help organize things.  Mark would apparently not be making it as he would still be in Montana and unable to leave.  My grandmother also said she had been reaching out to my father’s parents in Wales to try and organize their flight to Portland, as well as that for Aunt Soren and Uncle Lloyd.  My grandmother also noted that she and my grandfather, would be on their way to my parent’s house in Portland today, and would meet us there.  They would be driven down by Aunt Jill and Uncle Dave, who had arranged for a hotel for them.  My grandparents however would be staying at my parents house. I relayed this information to Sara, she let out a deep sigh and said that we should probably pack stuff up and hit the road before long, no point in rushing the trip tomorrow if we could get there today.  I agreed, I did not want to have to make a mad rush back to Portland if it was at all avoidable, and having a little time to get things organized back home would probably be a good thing as well, with my parents house that was likely to take a month.   After we ate I helped Sara grab stuff for at least a week and she packed it into a couple small suitcases, I grabbed my track bag, the only thing I brought with me and we headed out to the car.  We agreed that we would take her car, as it would be far more practical and faster.  Most things were faster than the Arrow, especially her Mustang.  We realized though that I would need to stop in Cheney to get some more clothing, as the one change I had would not last for any real amount of time in Portland unless I felt like doing laundry every single day, and that did not sound like too much fun to me.  I knew I still had some clothing in my closet and dresser back home in Portland, but none of it was stuff I wore much, and none of it would be remotely appropriate for a funeral whenever the hell that was going to take place.   The drive down to Cheney was faster with Sara behind the wheel, she was after all a lot more familiar with the road than I was and her car was able to maintain a speed better than my ancient Arrow.  We made it to the dorm in good time, I told her I would be as quick as possible to grab some clothing, tell both my RA as well as Grace that I was going to be out of town for who knows how long and then we would be back on the road. Making it up to my room was a piece of cake, I grabbed a few changes of clothes, my dress shoes and a tie and stuffed them into a backpack, as my suitcase was still filled, mainly with books that had yet to be unpacked.  I clicked off the light, locked the door, wrote a note saying I was out of town on the message board outside my room and was off to find my RA.  That proved to be a tougher challenge.  Being a weekday morning and with classes still yet to start, the chance that he would actually be in his room was minimal.  I knocked and as I suspected he was not there.  Another student in the hall said that he had just headed down to the front desk, so I hustled down the stairs in an attempt to find him.   He was there, thankfully, and I let him know what all was going on and that I would be back, whenever I got back, hopefully before the start of classes if I could, but that I could not promise anything at this point in time.   “Hey, I understand, you have to get everything taken care of, don't worry about anything alright?"   "Thanks, I will try to get everything in order while I am back home, we will see how I hold up during classes." The next thing was to see if Grace was in her room so I could let her know that I was taking off.  I went back up the stairs to the fifth floor hoping that she would be there.  I knocked and waited.  I could hear movement inside so i lightly knocked again.  She opened the door and looked half asleep still.  While rubbing her eyes she was able to tell that it was me and leaned out the door to hug me. "I'm glad you are back so soon." "I'm not back though, that is why I came to see you," I said.  "I'm off to Portland with my aunt right now, I just wanted to come and let you know so you didn't wonder where the hell I went." "How long will you be gone?" "I have no idea, hopefully less than a week, but I don't know how much stuff I will have to try and sort out while I am back home,” I said.  “Also the funeral, which we don’t know when it will be yet, as my father’s family have to come in from Wales and elsewhere in the United Kingdom.” "I'm going to miss you,” said Grace "Well you can still call me, I will probably need the occasional distraction, it will probably be a pretty damn depressing time down there,” I said. "I will, you can count on it, be safe sweetie," said Grace. "I'll try to be, ill see you when I get back," I responded. And back down the stairs I went to the car and back onto the road to Portland.   Having Sara drive was a big relief, it gave me a chance to try and relax and mentally unwind, the last day was pretty damn taxing.  I made sure to give my grandmother a call and let her know that we were just pulling out of Cheney and would be in Portland by the evening.  She mentioned that they were just past Olympia and that dinner would be ready whenever we happened to get in, and that the guest room was ready for Sara, which was also a big relief, the guest room was noted for being a catch-all room for things that didn't have anywhere better to go in the house.  I wondered where my grandmother had planned on putting things.  I was glad they she and my grandfather were already on their way down The first part of the drive until we made it into the Tri Cities where we stopped to get a cup of coffee and fill the gas tank back up.   "Thanks for driving," I said.  "It has really given me a chance to try and let my mind rest." "I know this have to be tough on you, don't worry about it alright?" said Sara. "I'll try not to, it's just rough, everything you are doing means a lot to me." "We are family, don't think anything of it, I know you would do the same,” she said. With coffee in hand and a full tank of gas we were ready to get back on the highway back to the City of Roses.  It was nice to be in a car that had a real cupholder, and not what I had to create in my own car.  We talked a bit on the way, which was a good distraction, since I knew that once we got to Portland there would be no rest till we made our way back towards Spokane.  We both know it was going to be an incredibly busy few days, or longer, for all of us.  The worst part was that neither of us knew exactly what all was going to be in store for us once we got to Portland, besides the funeral, which we didn’t even know when it would be, we had absolutely no idea what would need to be done with my parents estate, until the will was dealt with, and if everything went to me, that meant I was going to really have a hell of a lot to get done in possibly a very minimal amount of time, and that was a cause of at least a little worry to me. I figured that if that was the case I could try and have my grandparents deal with the bulk of it, as they would actually be physically there in the Portland area, or at least my grandmother had said that they planned on staying at my parents place until things were more situated.  Somehow the idea of coming in to Portland from Cheney every weekend to try and sort crap out was not terribly appealing to me, even though I enjoyed driving that would have been overkill in more ways than one, the Arrow would for sure meet a very speedy death.  As much as I loved that car, I knew good and well that it likely wouldn’t last my entire time at Eastern Washington University. The ride was smooth and moderately quick.  I knew I was going to be happy to get back to Portland, which was in a way funny because I only left three days before.  What can I say, Portland has that sort of effect on me, I was often happy to leave, on trips and the like, but always happy to be coming home too.  I knew that in the long run my stay away from Portland would not at all be permanent, I knew good and well that I would be back.  The city itself had a way to take a hold on you and you just fell in love with the place I knew I did, it was after all my hometown and I had grown to love it over the first eighteen years of my life. We were finally back, pulling into the driveway at my parents house, I was sick and tired of sitting in the car, there had been far too much of it the last few days.  For it only being the middle of the afternoon I felt quite exhausted. At first glance I did not recognize the other cars parked out front of the place. I then realized that it appeared that my great aunt and uncle from Port Townsend were there as well. This caught me off guard, I had not expected them to bring multiple cars.  I knew it was going to be good to see them, it always was. Tired or not I was still hungry and I was hoping that my grandmother had something ready to eat. We made our way to the front door and it opened up in front of us. My grandmother ushered us in the door and there was the rest of the family lounging in the living room. It was a strange setting, it had been years since I had seen everyone all in one place at the same time.  My aunt and uncle as well as a couple of their children who were a few years older than me.  I hadn’t seen them my cousins in quite some time. I could feel the tears building up in the corners of my eyes. It was going to be an interesting few days that was for damn sure. Everything was turning into such a blur it was miserable.  My mind was racing non stop, and I didn’t know what to think about anything.  One thing that did cross my mind was that I should call or text Eva, even though we hadn’t spoken in weeks, to let her know what happened with my parents. My grandmother asked us how the drive was and all of that fun stuff, we tossed my Aunts bags in the spare bedroom on the floor, and then mine up in my room to deal with later and made our way back out to the living room to see everyone. My  aunt and uncle let us know that they were going to sleep here, in that bedroom, which kinda pissed us off a little bit, but there was nothing we could do about it, the sofa bed was the next best thing, along with the floor it seemed.  There were way more people in the house than I think I had seen for years.  There wasn’t enough room for everyone in the house, I was going to have to rummage around for the air mattress, and hope that it wasn’t in the Vanagon with my parents.  In that case it would be gone forever most likely.  I didn’t even know what had happened with the Vanagon and any personal stuff that was in it.   We talked in the living room while my grandmother was in the kitchen throwing food together for all of us, which was soon to be ready. It appeared as though my aunt and uncle from Port Townsend would be heading back, as well as their kids in a couple days, and then coming back for the funeral whenever that was.  That would just leave myself and Sara, as well as my grandparents which was fine by me.  That was going to make the house a lot more comfortable.  A good deal of my family was great but only in relatively small doses. The thought of having to deal with most of them on any real sort of prolonged basis made my head hurt especially if we were all crammed under the same roof. I hoped that my dads family would be making it out here from Wales on such short notice.  I knew that she had spoken with my paternal grandparents, but I didn’t know when to possibly expect them here in Portland.  My grandmother had mentioned that they were waiting to even attempt to schedule the funeral until we knew what the travel situation was with them, as well as with my Aunt Soren and Uncle Lloyd who were both in the United Kingdom as well. Dinner was good, baked chicken, and then it was soon to be time for bed for my some, which was fine by me. I knew that I was going to want to head to bed at a early time, I was exhausted, stressed and had sixteen million things going in my head and just needed some way to relax and try and make the best of things. Sara and I agreed that the sofa bed, which was a queen sized one would be the best for her, my cousins would take the air mattress which I managed to rummage out of the garage.  It wasn’t the best of the ones we had but it was far better than sleeping on the floor.  I was looking forward to sleeping in my own bed.  Something comfortable and familiar.   It was early indeed when we all decided to call it a night, just barely after nine in the evening but we knew that the next several days would be a hectic mess, and I was not looking forward to them, then again no one else was either for that matter. While I got settled in my bed, I struggled to get comfortable.  A hour or so after I went to bed, and after reading for a while and being unable to fall asleep I decided to go down and get some water.  I looked over at the couch, I could tell that Sara was having issues falling asleep, tossing and turning a bit, I walked over and asked her if everything was alright. "Yes everything is alright, I am just finding it a little hard to get comfortable," she said. "This whole situation has moved so fast I just I am still in a state of shock I guess." "I can understand that, I am too, we just have to do what we can I guess," I said. "There really is no other way around it." "If you need to talk or anything, you only have to ask," I said. "I know, thanks, same goes for you," she said. "I am shocked you are taking this as well as you are." "Me too, me too, I'll probably have a break down in a couple weeks,” I said.  “At least more of one than the one I am currently having that is.” "If you do, feel free to come on up to Spokane to talk, our door is always open." "Thanks, I will." With that I headed back up my room and I was eventually able to drift off in to sleep.

[autocann1bal]

part two of playlist analysis!!

pt 1 <;-

lets get right back into it!!

moving in place - shauna dean cokeland hc that lockwood was pretty fucking reckless after jess dies-before george showed up and did. very dangerous things.

summertime sadness - lana del rey just before lucy left, at the door, lockwood trying to get her not to leave.

star shopping - lil peep (for more context, i have a slight obsession with the stars and the stars mean more than the world to me) SHES LOCKWOODS STARS SHES LOCKWOODS STARS SHES LOCKWOODS STARS WAILS SOBS SCREAMS SHOUTS ARFURFSDFJGK

scott pilgrim vs my gpa - mom jeans ...am i allowed ot say lockwoodcore again.

cherry wine - hozier GOT ANOTHER HOZIER SONG BOYS. its so soft. theyre sitting in bed at night after a particularly bad panic attack and lucy is stroking his hair as cherry wine plays. 

brian is the most beautiful - memo boy sleepy trance-ish vibe sort of thing dont ask idk it just. vibes

over population at the end of everything is less of a worry, haha ('a letter to you' from mother 3') - no love in the house of gold idk sad vibes you do with this what you want.

wasteland, baby - hozier OMOMWOMWOWOMOWOMOMWM beloved theyre so cute and in love shes brushing his hair as they get ready in the morning they are in love.

cdbaby <3 - chloe moriondo i had too. lockwood bumping ts the first night lucy is there and george is telling him to stfu bc hes to loud and its 10 pm.

el manana - gorillaz more lockwood being sad bc lucy is gone :(

november has come - gorillaz tbh this one should be in a george playlist i just feel like hed like this song

i really wanna stay at your house - rosa walton, hallie coggins locklyle reminds me so much of lucy and david (cyberpunk edgerunners) so they get the lucy/david song <3

luna moth - maya hawke lucy feels like shes ruined the group dynamic after she joined the company :(

tongues & teeth - the cranewives oh lordy lord lord i have many words to say and none of them will be coherent. EORROUFUFH this is such a lockwood song you dont understand hes so afraid of being close to people. hes horrible afraid of letting lucy in because hes afraid kipps is right and she'll leave. hes so afriad i love him dearly hes so me (im projecting) 

tv - billie eilish god lucy feels so useless and worthless. she ruined the teams dynamic as soon as she showed up. the repetition of 'maybe im the problem' at the end is her talking to herself in the shower

something in the orange - zach bryan god theyre so stupid and sad i love them i miss them dearly thats all u get thank u  genesis - grimes they are walking around at night. they should not be. genesis ensues. great - mccafferty uh oh mccafferty time be prepared (i do not support nick!!) god this song is so lockwood hes so insecure and sad. he thinks hes alone. PLOT TWIST lucy is outside his door also crying because she can hear his cries. throat - mccafferty mmm what if i just [hands lockwood (slight) substance abuse problems] kill me for this if youd like but i just. i think he. gasoline. - mccafferty song told from lucy's pov, why you ask? 'when your sister died/that changed everything' HRMST unforgiveable curse #3 - mccafferty 'im useless without her/i hope that i dissolve' LOCKWOOD YOU SILLY MOTHER FUCKER YOU ARE VALUED BY MORE PEOPLE THAN JUST LUCY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD cotton candy - mccafferty 'im so lovely/at making destructive decisions' the entirety of l&co ^ graveyard - mccafferty idk why just. lucy after the teams death vibes (the team being the team in her home town w norrie and thems. witchcraft - mccafferty ok ik the song. is not fluffy vibes but idk idk it just gives me fluffy locklyle cuddle vibes dont ask why because i am unable to answer. lights are on - tom rosenthal oh my god just imagine lucy walking past portland row after she left, staring into lockwoods window. hes there too. its to dark for her to see him but they make eyecontact before she briskly turns and walks in the other direction and lockwood just starts crying. cocaine jesus - rainbow kitten surprise same thing as lights are on maybe a slightly different font maybe its george who knows [shrug] sweet tooth - maya hawke bfs, even gfs if you will (yes im talking about a technically het couple, what about it?) mike walton - basement version - adjust the sails hrmrhrhff lockwood sitting in the basement pretending to be filing things WRONG hes crying :) romantic homicide - d4vd LITERALLY JUST THE FIRST LINE IS SO LOCKWOOD 'im scared/feels like you dont care' LOCKWOOD LOCKWOOD LOCKWOOD LOCKWOOD LOCKWOOD thats all u get ty call it fate, call it karma - the strokes 'can i waste your time here on the sidewalk?' KIPPS THAT YOU??? nah this song is lockwood watching kipps and lucy talk on the sidewalk and is just like ??????????WHAT bathtub - the front bottoms YOU WILL NOT tell me this isnt anthony lockwood. you cant. i will go more in depth of this anyone asks. i mean anyone a single person can be slightly interested and i will do it. car lights - james marriott oh how fittes at 50 ball of them. i will not elaborate jim bogart - the front bottoms 'i would sleep better on your floor than i would ever in my bed' alright lockwood PACK IT UP YOU PATHETIC SIMP stupid for you - waterparks this time its LUCY being a simp PLOT TWIST lockwood may be a pathetic man but lucy is a pathetic woman they are so cute together my little squishy scrungles dark beach - pastel ghost hes sleeping on her chest and shes calmly braiding his hair fight me theyre so cute i love them riptide - vance joy yea i added riptide what about it. theyre so in love i love them theyre so cute sobs hes so in love shes so in love theyre so <33333 kids - mgmt GUESS WHAT ITS ANOTHER SONG ABOUT THEM BEING CHILDREN IN A TERRIBLE WORKPLACE tire swing - kimya dawson cozy breakfast vibes. lucy is singing lockwood and george are whistling. george is also cooking because lockwood isnt trusted near an oven after the careless whisper incident the 30th - billie eilish yall. yall remember when lockwood got shot. yea that. no surprises - radiohead is this self explanatory. orbitron - duster guess whos having a breakdown? ITS LUCY THIS TIME MF MWAHAHHAHAH. she is breaking down in the shower. oopsie. part 3 coming shortly :)

[ritualoftheancients]

Ritual of the Ancients Chapter 13: Negotiations

by Roan Rosser

This is a chapter of a complete vampire novel with a trans-masc main character and a gay romance subplot. New Chapters are posted every Sunday. If you like the novel and want to support the author, ebook and paperback copies can be purchased here.

*****

The night air whistled in through the broken back window as I drove aimlessly around northern Portland, trying to think. No use visiting Kevin’s partner now; he wouldn’t know anything more than Kevin had, besides the fact that Kevin had probably called to warn him by now. Dave and Stacy were hopefully checking up on the Polly angle, which left me out of clues.

Stopped at a red light, I pounded the steering wheel in frustration. It cracked under my fists. I winced, and added it to the long-and-growing-longer list of things I owed Jack.

Maybe I should have gone with Kevin to see Lady Ann. Then I snorted at the preposterousness of that, since I now suspected she was behind the attacks on me. She’d have just killed me and taken the amulet off my corpse. And it was mine.

Thinking about my next move made me glance at the dashboard to check the tank. I winced. Less than a quarter tank left. I thought about where I could find an open gas station, when I remembered my missing wallet. Shit. With no money to fill the tank, I had to hoard what I had left.

As I drove north on MLK, I spotted a closed grocery store on my right with an empty parking lot. I pulled over and parked to give myself time to think. Where should I go with the last bit of my gas?

I didn’t want to leave the car alone with a broken window, so instead I just leaned the driver’s side seat back and relaxed, trying to think. I felt so helpless. Jack could be hurt—or, or worse. I scrubbed tears from my eyes with my sleeve. No, I refused to believe Jack was dead. Jack was resourceful, and knew how to take care of himself. Still, my mind kept circling back to worst-case scenarios.

To distract myself from thinking anymore about Jack, I pulled out the amulet and examined it again. The hieroglyphs that circled the portrait in the center were too worn down to make out without my tools back at the museum. There were two broken-off areas on either side that made me think that it had originally been part of a necklace or other piece of jewelry. There was nothing special about it at first glance, or second for that matter. If it hadn’t been for the way it had absorbed blood from my clothes, I would have said there was nothing out of the ordinary about it at all. Just another piece of jewelry looted from an Egyptian tomb.

I was still staring at it when the burner cell in my pocket began jingling with an incoming call. Only two people had this number, and I couldn’t see Dave calling me back voluntarily. I sat up and about dropped the phone in my eagerness to answer.

“Are you okay?” I gasped.

A low chuckle greeted me. “Oh, I will be soon, Everett,” a woman purred.

I froze, the phone pressed to my ear. “Who is this? Where’s Jack?”

“Now, now, not so fast, darling. Haven’t you ever heard of small talk?” The woman tisked. “But no matter. I suppose it is best to get right down to business, as they say. I am a busy woman, after all.”

My stomach sunk, and I felt sick as I realized who I was speaking to. “Lady Ann. Is Jack…”

“Jack’s fine. I propose a trade. Tit for tat, you know.”

“Let me talk to him.” I tried to keep my voice firm and even, but it still cracked at the end. I couldn’t believe I was challenging a mob boss, even over the phone. My hands shook, and I was very glad that she couldn’t see me.

“Proof of life for proof that you actually have my amulet in your possession,” she responded coldly. I imagined her examining her perfectly manicured nails as she spoke, even though in reality I had no idea if she was the kind of person who even bothered with manicures. I’d never met her before. She worked through intermediaries.

“Fine. I’ll text a photo to you at this number,” I snapped. “You do the same, then call me back.”

“Agreed, but I want a selfie with you in the picture.” She sounded almost bored. The line went dead.

I lowered the phone and groaned, putting my head in my hands. This was a terrible idea. Even with my minimal knowledge of technology, I knew she could get my location from the metadata on any photo I sent her, while I’d learn nothing in exchange. Other than the fact that Jack was alive, a little voice said inside me. That wasn’t nothing.

I held the amulet up next to my face and snapped a quick selfie, but I hesitated with my finger over the send button. No. I’d wait for her to send proof that Jack lived first. I sat staring at the phone, waiting impatiently.

After ten minutes and no response, I sent Jack’s phone a text message.

“Proof of life first, then I’ll send mine.”

This cheap phone didn’t let you know when the other party was typing, but after a moment it did check the message to show it had been read. So she’d seen it.

While I waited for a response, I got out of the car and walked around the mostly empty parking lot, trying to use up some of my restless energy. I wandered up to the dark storefront. I was walking back and forth along the front, staring at my phone, when a car came screeching around the corner onto MLK and opened fire on the parking lot.

The first bullets hit Jack’s car in a spray of broken glass. I froze at first, staring in shock at the man hanging out the window of the SUV holding a machine gun. The hail of bullets cracking across the concrete towards me snapped me out of my stupor. I turned and ran for the side of the building, fumbling at my jacket pocket for the gun I’d taken from Kevin.

As I ran my phone began ringing, the default ring tone cheerfully pinging in between the pops of gunfire. Without thinking about it, I pressed answer and lifted the phone to my ear. The bullets were getting closer; I could hear them cracking into the pavement at my heels, so I used vampire speed.

“Hello?” I said into the phone. Air whistled by as I ran. “Sorry, I’m a little busy right now.” I struggled to get the gun out of my pocket as I ran, ripping my pocket in the process. As I fumbled with the strap of the holster, I accidentally dropped the gun. At the speed I was going it hit hard, bounced, and skittered away along the asphalt. I left it and kept running. Not like I knew how to use it anyway.

“Is,” the person on the phone said, each letter drawn out. It was like the person on the other end was talking in slow motion. I didn’t recognize the voice over the roaring of the air and the gunfire, but it was a guy. In my haste, I hadn’t looked at the caller ID before answering. I needed to start thinking more about what I was doing.

“That.”

I ran past the end of the building towards the loading docks. I made a sharp turn to run along the back of the building, my tennis shoes sliding several feet before finding purchase. The gunfire was fading behind me, and I could hear the speaker more clearly now. I was starting to get thirsty, so I concentrated on slowing down again.

“Gunfire?” the person finally finished his sentence by the time I was a block away, the last word speeding up to normal speech by the last syllable.

“Yeah, but it’s fine now. Who is this?” I said, jogging down a back alley. The shooters had to have known they’d missed, and would most likely be driving around, looking for me.

“Everett?” Jack’s concerned voice came over the line. I recognized his voice now that it was quiet. Tears of relief rolled down my cheeks. “Someone’s shooting at you? Are you hurt?”

I wiped my face dry, glad Jack couldn’t see me. “No, I’m fine, but I don’t know for how long. I’m hiding, but I don’t know where to go,” I whispered. The light was gone, but I could hear a car’s engine circling the block. It could have been normal night traffic, or it could have been the shooters.

“Shit. Tell me what happened.” Jack sounded sincere, but… Could he be working with the people trying to kill me? I didn’t want to consider the possibility, but I had to.

“Jack, how’d Lady Ann get your phone?” I asked quietly, ducking my head around the edge of the doorway to check that it was clear.

“She took it off me when I was captured by her thugs. What happened? Did she text you pretending to be me?” Jack sounded worried.

It was clear, so I sprinted out of the doorway and down the alley to the corner. Which way to go? I was back on MLK; I recognized the center planting area that separated the north and southbound lanes. “No, she called me from your phone, trying to negotiate a trade for you. What happened last night? When you didn’t make it back I was so worried.”

“Shit.” Jack said a few more choice swear words. “She was lying. I escaped from her thugs over an hour ago. She must have panicked, and tried to get you to give her whatever it was she wanted from you before you found out I escaped. Let’s get you to safety, then I’ll tell you the whole story. Are you on foot? I don’t hear a car.”

“Yeah, on foot.” There was sparse traffic going by in both directions. I didn’t see a black SUV like the one the shooters had been driving. I tried to think. For now I wanted—no, needed to trust that Jack was being truthful.

“Is there a car or any way for you to get away quickly?”

“Your car is parked nearby; I think it still might be drivable.” The bullets had looked like they all hit the sides and trunk, but it had been hard to tell from where I’d been. I headed back towards Jack’s car since I didn’t have any better ideas.

“Might still be drivable?” Jack repeated in disbelief, followed by a deep sigh. “Not important right now. Focus on getting out of there safely.”

The bad news was that Jack’s car was riddled with bullet holes, all the windows were broken, and the windshield was cracked. The good news was that now I wouldn’t have to confess about accidentally shooting out the window when I’d fed on Kevin.

I propped the phone against my shoulder to free my hands, pried the door open, and stuck the key in the ignition. The car turned over and to my surprise, actually started. “It still works. Where should I go?”

There was a muffled conversation in the background, and then Jack came back on the line. “Meet us at the 7-11 at the south end of St. John’s. And throw your phone away before you leave. Dave says that she probably found you by tracking it.

“Who’s us?” I asked suspiciously, trying to keep it from my voice. I wanted to trust Jack, but it was hard.

“Stacy’s driving. She’s going to take us somewhere safe. Now go, before they come back.”

“Got it.” I hung up the phone and threw it out the window before putting the car into drive and roaring away. Wind stung my eyes through the huge crack in the broken front windshield, but I squinted and dealt with it.

[forgottenwells]

I don't feel free in this state and country after speaking out and facing retaliations a patient, not employee, but patient and also witness to my own crime, from the Office of Civil Rights, the Joint commission of Accreditation, OR Medical Board, Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital and the Patient Relations, OR Health Authority, Portland Police Bureau, Victim Rights Law Center, District Attorney Office for Multnomah County when it was MY BODY.

For over 4 year, Portland Police Bureau has left and said there are no witnesses when I know there Are. I filed appeal to the independent police citizen review board, sent letter to Oprah Winfrey, Joe Rogan, Hamilton Morris, and Judge Rose Marie Aquilina with my scripture of the shit at this Hospital ER in NW Portland OR. no one go there r go here and then really be aware. request your medical too because they cherry pick nd they leave out all anything they could be liable for or any abujse they left out of the documents which became part of my case when I was the victim I was treated worse than a fucking piece of shit rapist a rapist. no criminal because we're all human should be treated like shit worse than anything. and this hospital did it! this hospital omitted a very violent crime. im not an attorney so this is not the place where I am going to go and beat them for EVERYTHING they committed and not only they put a human BODY in seclusion in the DARK the dark, but they also didn't mention it. it's where mentioned in the records EXCEPT: when dr . GRAY yes that is the dr who no lawyer rn, but SHE, "patient remains in seclusion." How do you read that?

we will talk about the reality the basic facts of this circumstance at another time in a. different post because this was torture, past my first amendment in a lot of ways, if I would have died, they would have lied, just as exemplified by the fact, yes fact, they left their torment nd torture out of the medical records out the room 8. no mention of neglect, abuse, screaming, crying, pissing, spitting, k pooping, flapping, signing asl, crying, not moving, staring at camera for a long time,

if I would have died they would have covered it up just like they covered up criminal abuse on a victim. complete victim abuse. this dr. I reported her to or medical board. I am writing to her medical school alumni college where she graduated bc I a am actually ormt here. I am from sd, ca where she went to uc sd medical school. wrong girl dr. gray. so privileged. so entitled. for every baby I have, I want my medical expenses paid for the trauma, drama, exploitation you have dragged me under the umbrella. the red umbrella.

I am pursuing a case, alone, but no matter what, there are damages here, for fraud to the government on a Crime Victim on top of that, this is Federal, a Victim,

I have contacted European Countries as well about this,

and I will be contacting the middle east and more of the military about this situation.

I took the ASVAB waiting for my case, not revealing my speech during the assault, k was prepared to have victory from this BT case and move forward and become a true survivor skilled and practiced in repetition and resiliency. but the case was dismissed, so, I became a dishwasher. Thank you Tara Gardner for dismissing a 22 month Rape 1 case with sexual abuse dropped out int he prior hearings. I have no respect for you except the fact you speak monotone, you dress and wear your hair well, but after that grand jury you sure suckered and then at the hearing with the judge where he said so no one was with her in the room when she did na ungloved dan swab kit? and I looked at the da supervisor witness advocate sitting beside me I could not believe this shit and then the supervisor said its ok. I couldn't believe it. another ! hting int his case ! omg. did you fuck up there too.

tara Gardner provided an argument in front of the judge but also in front of th erapist woman 2 where she said during a hearing he wanted to be free for the covid opportunity freeing prisoners awaiting trials (he never had one he never di one this so unconstitutional cuz there are witnesses too) she provided argument of of course another case where victims mother wrote a letter for her daughter as to why her daughter's predator should not be released. then th judge said to tara gardener, that has nothing to do with his case.

I was thinking the EXACT same thing, literally, in every way. this is why it's important for the lady at the collective who has the kids in her workshop next to NOMQAN2 to testify and be a witness but PPB said there are no witnesses. When u asked them what did you do to find witnesses? they responded: we canvased the building. we canvased. I asked what does that mean? they said we passed out our business cards.

I know MRSW SKeisblah this her alias so I truly don't give f, the other guy down the hall, the other guy who they know who they are 666 and then the manager who I am pressing and suing this collective in the big scheme of things for damages for posting a UNIQUE EVICTION notice only art studio following the assault. a hand written eviction noti3e for EVERYONE to see. I am suing this city for fa, ages I whope more people ill get onboard and hep me and so we can donate back ro the comity like organizations such as Portland Street Response, Open Signal, roseehaven, places which Matter. PPB lied to me. I ave put so much work into what they said and tried to 0uash back for their own libration. We all take time, but I came fast I came quick I told that mother fucker I will shoot you like isis but a bitch is going to shoot you

there are no video tapes the cameras are for monitoring only patient relations stated in his response letter to my "grievance" letter or whatever

I CARE A LOT MOVE

GIRL IN THE BASEMENT MOVIE

[gucciwins]

a phone call away

it's important to remember you're not alone

Word count: 3124

A/N: hi friends! sorry for the wait, but good news i finished another semester of uni so cheers to that. this part is much shorter but very important. i touch briefly on bel's grief and how it's hard for her to talk about feeling like it upsets other not realizing they just to be there for her. this part and the next two will be her opening up. it's important!

please remember to reblog! let me know what you thought!

warnings: mentions of grief, slight angst

love on tour series // previous part

Portland, Oregon

Back-to-back shows are exhausting; there's a reason Harry is still napping on the couch while you reply to emails resting your back against the sofa, not having moved since he rested his hand in your hair. You're afraid any sudden movement will wake him.

You've decided on the scripts you've had a hold off since New York, and you're relieved. Both your teams are in talks, and it's all looking good. January will be the start of a busy year. You just hope you and Harry can coordinate well together. You'd have for distance to be the problem that breaks you apart, although something in you knows Harry would not give up that easy. Neither will you.

"Bel," you look up, seeing Sarah who entered, eyes droopy and pleading.

"Hi, Sarah. What's up?"

That's when you notice a sleeping baby in her arms and know she needs you.

"He's sleeping, and I need a nap. I hate to–"

You interrupt her standing slowly, letting Harry's hand fall down against the couch. He doesn't even stir.

"I'll happily take him."

"You sure? I know you like being with Harry."

You roll your eyes, extending your arms for the sleeping bub. "Please, he's sleeping. Not missing anything. Besides, I'll take cuddles with this angel over Harry any day."

Sarah sighs, finally transferring the baby into your waiting arms.

"An hour max." She promises.

"Don't rush. It's a busy day. Tasha can take him back later when she comes in."

Sarah nods, knowing their nanny was helpful, but they liked not relying on her at all hours until showtime. "I appreciate it."

"Where's Mitch?"

"Sleeping already, he didn't have to feed our angel." She says, placing a kiss on her son's head.

"He would if he could," you laugh, and she does too.

"He spends too much time with Harry."

"Just a tad."

Sarah runs off, leaving just you and the little guy.

"Well, bubs. It's you and me."

You smile because, ultimately, it's just you until the little one wakes up.

It's been two hours, and you're having a blast. You did tummy time, letting the bub stretch and play with a plushie Harry gifted him by one of the fans. Walked around the arena letting all the crew awe over his pretty face. Then took a walk outside the convention center right across the arena.

You would have gone farther, but you worried Harry or Sarah would call, but they did not. You had dinner together, mostly you eating soup, and bub had a milk bottle that Sarah supplied you with. It was a great bonding day as everyone regained energy.

You're surprised no one's called you, well Sarah did; you mainly meant Harry. Sarah told you she would get ready, and then you could head back in half an hour. By the looks of it, you had fifteen minutes to kill. You thought it was time to visit, Harry worrying he hadn't reached out. You hoped he was awake.

His door was open, letting you know he was up and waiting for Ayae to come in to do his hair. You wouldn't be surprised if he was in only his underpants. He liked wearing as little clothing as possible at all times.

You nudged the door open and saw him in his makeup chair; you were about to speak when you heard him talk.

"Mum, I'm great. Really, very happy. She's great, excited to meet you. Her family, well, just her friends in Minnesota. I'm sure she'd love all of you. She loves all of the crew. No, I don't ask her. I should? Well, she's fine. I promise I'm taking care of her and her of me. Love you. Bye."

You're curious, but never enough to ask.

"H," you walk in, letting him see you from the mirror.

"Baby," He stands up, eager to squeeze you, when he freezes, hearing a giggle. "And baby."

You laugh, "I've been on auntie duty."

You don't see Harry's eyes soften at hearing you call yourself Mitch and Sarah's baby your nephew. As you looked down at the angel who's begging for attention.

"Yeah, had a good day together? I had to wake up alone." He pouted playfully.

"Sorry, he was fussy, and we went on a walk."

"That sounds like fun. Sad I missed it."

You bump his shoulder, "cheer up; we had fun this morning."

Harry smirks, thinking back to the two rounds he convinced you off, as soon as he woke up seeing how your shirt had risen up during the night, exposing your lovely chest to him.

"Well, yes, we did. Can't wait for more of that later."

"Insatiable," you tease.

Harry wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you in close, shielding the baby's eyes closed as he brings you in for a deep kiss expressing how much he missed you in the short time you were away.

"PG for my child, please." Mitch voices loudly surprising, Harry.

"Mitch, I would never. Covered his eyes."

"How generous," he deadpans.

You bring the bub up higher, letting him catch sight of his father, "look, bub, who is it? Is it your Daddy? Do you wanna go?"

Mitch's smile grows, and his son raises his arms, begging to be passed over, and you do so happily.

"Hi, my angel. Want to go see your Mummy? She missed you."

Harry and you can't help but keep looking at the intimate moment of father and son. If there's anything you learned about Mitch, he loves and protects fiercely. A gentle guy who would do anything for his family.

"Thank you, Bel. We appreciate you."

You shrug, "of course, happy to help. Good luck later."

Mitch walks out, murmuring to his son as Harry watches them leave, "he didn't say bye to me." He fakes cries into your hair, causing you to laugh.

"You're silly, come on, Ayae should be here soon." You push him into the chair, making sure everything she'll need is in front of the vanity; when Harry pulls your hand, turning you to look at him.

His smile is gone, and he looks serious, "promise me something, Bel."

"Anything."

"You'll talk to me."

"Harry?"

"I-I- Mum got this thought in my head, and I just want you to know that I'm here for it all. The good and bad. Let yourself open up."

You tense up and know he feels it, "are you saying I haven't? Is that what you feel?"

He shakes his head, "not at all, but we're living in my world, and in a way I pour my soul out to you each night and you don't get to do the same."

You know where he's coming from, and you appreciate it, but you're not sure how ready you are for him to learn everything you felt back then how sometimes it still feels like all the walls can come crashing down on you. Before you can respond, Ayae comes in, and you're quick to back away.

"Promise, I will." You end the conversation, not believing your words, but hopefully, he does.

"Oregon's great," Harry comments as he zips up his light blue trousers.

You nod, helping him slip on his black shirt with embroidered ribbons and floral appliques, standing in front of him, buttoning each one. "I like Oregon."

"Why's that?"

"Nature," you state obviously, "being known as the weird state."

Harry chuckles, knowing that one is a bit odd but has seen it stand true.

"This is the first place Naomi was hit on by another girl. Changed her life and confidence."

"Really?" Harry is surprised, but you can see in his eyes how much he appreciates you sharing that small story.

"Yup, we took a road trip down here, stayed in the city for a day, then spent the rest of it over on the coast. Hiking to our heart's content against our body's wishes."

"How much did you hike?"

You think about it as Harry tucks in his shirt.

"A few hikes were over ten, roughly fifty miles that week," you laugh, thinking back to how insane you were to do that.

"How were you not dead?"

"Oh, we were. Slept so much after."

"And the drive home?"

"The worst, we wanted to book a plane home but knew we had to get the car back."

"You took turns at least?"

"Yes, and lots of rest stops. We were drinking so much water that the rest stops were needed."

"I'd be up for a road trip," he confesses.

"Here?"

He shrugs, "anywhere as long as you're at my side."

"Cheese head."

"Yours."

"Mine."

You close the distance letting yourself get lost against him, not caring who could walk in. You were too far gone for him to be concerned. You'd kiss him forever if your lungs allowed it.

"I love you, H."

"I love you, Bel."

"Harry! Out!"

You both laugh because just like that moment is gone but never ruined. No, because each moment with Harry was ingrained forever in your brain.

The environment was high, with lots of screams, and Harry had not stopped smiling since he got on stage.

After what happened last night, you noticed more security around you, and although you hated it, you were relieved it was there. You and Harry spoke on the bus about what happened and how it did make you anxious. He didn't want that to continue, especially knowing he didn't want you to watch the show from backstage. You know he did it for both your sakes.

There were a lot more stares in your direction, only now you weren't sure if they were still friendly or not. Jeff had assured you no one blamed you or spoke ill of you, but that fear would not leave. You brushed it off, getting lost in the music dancing the night away with your friends.

Harry was currently speaking with a fan about giving someone a second chance. He naturally asked follow-up questions to get a good picture, and once the women shared, he was controlling, that was the end for him.

"Next, dead, gone," He expressed loudly into the microphone, erupting in cheers. He paused, backtracking on his words. "Not dead, he's not dead. He's not dead, that was too far. I took it too far, he's not dead, But he is bye-bye." He recovered quickly, but you're bent over in laughter, clinging tightly to Tommy in order not to fall over.

"He's too good." Jeff expresses.

You've finally taken a moment to catch your breath and nod, "so smooth."

Harry transitions from speaking to his fans to addressing his band, specifically Pauli Lovegood, whose birthday it was today. He says nothing but amazing things about Pauli before kindly asking the crowd to join him in singing happy birthday to his friend and bandmate.

The cameras are split between Harry and Pauli, a large smile on their face as you sing along off-key with the rest of the fans ending with a loud cheer for your friend. Pauli is near tears expressing his gratitude, sharing a hug with Harry as they move into fifteen minutes of non-stop dancing.

Tommy had just finished spinning you when you caught a commotion going on in the pit. Security is already on high alert, you step closer, and instead of a fight or anything, you see a man proposing to his girlfriend.

You look up at the stage, and Harry is frozen still, mouth wide open as he takes in what just took place in front of thousands of people. The band and the crowd cheer, and Harry watches on in surprise.

Jeff stands closer to you, a large smile on his face, and you know you have a matching grin. This is wonderful, a couple choosing to share this moment with all of you.

Now over the shock, Harry congratulates the couple but not before chastising the man for proposing during his song, stealing all the attention from him. It's all playful about hurting his ego, but you know he's going to hold this moment close for a long time.

"Jeff, you should-" he cuts you off.

"Already on it, Bel."

You lean against him, relieved he thought the same as you, making this special night just a little more special for the couple.

"How'd you propose?"

Jeff grins, staring off into the distance, lost in a moment," promise to tell you later."

"You better."

All the focus is once again back on Harry as he begins his thanks, never forgetting to take a moment to appreciate his team that helps make each night possible.

Back at the hotel, you're in the penthouse suite Jeff booked to celebrate Pauli, and they were thankful. Not all of you were here, some had to drive to the next city to begin preparations for Sacramento, and some decided to call it an early night. There were still many of you around drinking and eating. Even a cake was brought out, and you all once again sang for Pauli.

They went around the room, thanking everyone and letting everyone know how grateful they were. You had given him a nice winter coat as he told you he'd be visiting Europe for the winter, and you wanted him to be prepared. Pauli was grateful, and he had many more gifts to get through.

Harry, after the show, pulled you into his dressing room, kissing you for what felt like forever but was only fifteen minutes as he tried to burn off the pent-up excitement. You're sure he would have asked for more if

Tom hadn't walked in asking him to get his things for you all to leave for the party.

You had walked in together but soon separated as Harry was pulled away for a conversation about the best guitars, a discussion you didn't need to be a part of. It was easy for you to blend in with everyone moving in and out of conversations.

It's a trick Viola taught you after attending so many after-parties. Although it was ingrained in you to greet every person in a room, it was the same when you were leaving, except that it got complicated when there were hundreds of people involved. Viola said it was the "Irish Goodbye," something from her homeland.

You appreciated it even now when you were feeling overwhelmed. You're not sure why. You also weren't going to drag Harry away from a fun evening with all of his friends. No, you could get through this alone.

It would pass. So you hoped.

Your phone rang, making you step out to the balcony letting the cold Oregon air kiss your skin, not remembering to grab your coat.

"Hi, darling."

"Bells," Naomi greets cheerfully.

"Why are you awake at this hour?"

"It's four am."

"Almost five, you mean."

"Same thing."

"What do you need at this hour?"

"Uh, my parents are wondering if you're okay, and truthfully, so am I."

You frown, knowing she's referring to what happened yesterday. "I'm fine, sorry I didn't call."

"That's a relief, there weren't any photos of you tonight, and I thought you might have left him or the tour."

"There wasn't?" You're surprised knowing there was more than one phone aimed at you tonight. You have a feeling it was something Harry must have done.

"No."

"Well, it's probably Harry who helped."

"Yes, good, you deserve privacy."

You hum in agreement.

You both fall silent and know she has something more to say, but you're waiting for her to bring it up.

"Y/N,"

"Yes."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"What do you mean?"

You know very well what she's talking about.

"You're never in California during these times. You can easily hop on a plane to us, your family."

It's crazy how one word can change everything for you, family.

You have your own family, but here everyone around you doesn't know what you've gone through or how some days you would not get out of bed or how you once woke up in the cemetery having stumbled in at late hours for some comfort.

Naomi knows her parents and siblings but not Jeff, Tallulah, Sarah, or Elin. Not even Harry knows.

There's a part of you that fears them finding out, but you know it won't change how they see you, they know you're strong, but it's opening up yourself entirely, and you're not ready for everyone here to see that.

"I'll be fine," you lie.

Naomi would have caught the lie if she was here in person, but she can't decipher it over the phone.

"Always a phone call away."

"I know."

"You're not alone there," she reminds you.

"Harry's here."

"He is, open up. Let him be there for you. Don't do it alone."

"Thanks for the phone call. I love you."

Naomi doesn't fight you, but you can do this. You will.

After hanging up, you don't move inside like you know you should. It's cold, and you're most likely to get sick, but that's not your concern, not when there are so many thoughts going through your head, one moment specifically, one moment you wish you could go back to.

"You alright, Bel?" A hand on your shoulder startles you out of your thoughts.

"Fine," you smile up at Harry.

"You sure?" He slips off his coat, slipping it on you, not moving until he sees you put your arms through.

You nod, lean up to place a kiss on his cheek. "All good, amor."

It looks like he wants to fight you on it, but Pauli calls him over, and there's no reason for him not to go.

"Go on, I'll be here in a minute."

He looks worried, and you hate that.

"I love you, now go."

"Love you too, sunshine."

He steals a quick kiss and rushes over, joining the conversation as if he was there from the start.

You're fine, you are, but there's a bit of sadness looming over you. It's common your therapist used to tell you, encouraging you to talk about it, but the environment is bright and joyous, and you don't want to dampen it.

So you'll sit here trying your best to fake it because you have to. There's no way you'd dump your baggage on him again, not when it wasn't necessary even if Naomi said it was okay. The day was still far enough for you to fake it for a bit and let yourself live in this false bliss.

You'd deal with it when the day came. For now, you would enjoy being around the people you call your friends.

thank you for reading <3 i adore you

taglist: @alienorknight @harry-is-my-sunflower @myfavfanficsever @4hazza @springholland @michellekstyles @harryismyfwend @evanjh @onlyamylee @golden-hoax @itsmycorneroftheinternet @harryspirate @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thurhomish

part nineteen sacramento

[justoneofthoseghosts]

Brettsey + 'that was supposed to be a surprise!'

"That was supposed to be a surprise," Stella mentions as she folds her arms around her chest before sighing.

Sylvie looks at the firefighter then at the supposed surprise in front of her. She blinks a few times to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

Matt was standing in front of her, smiling shyly.

She was at the loft with Stella binge watching season five of Friends when she mentioned something about needing to go to the bathroom. For some reason, Stella tried to steer her into the bathroom in their bedroom but she just laughed it off, saying that she was fine with using the bathroom she always did when she came around.

Huh.

At least now she knew why Stella was acting shifty all afternoon when Sylvie stopped by unannounced with a bag filled with all junk food imaginable - ice cream, brownies, gummy bears, chocolate and a couple of bottles of wine. It had been a week since Stella and Kelly's wedding and exactly a week since she and Matt decided to take a break.

It was a tough decision and all she wanted was some girl time to take her mind off of things and also, maybe to keep her from drunk dialing his number and telling him how much she missed him. She reminded herself that it was for the best. Matt was happy in Portland. He was thriving even. He loved Griffin and Ben and in the short span of time that he had been out there, managed to turn things around for the boys.

Which really did not explain what he was doing here in the middle of a bathroom at the loft in Chicago.

She continues to stare at him wide eyed before Stella sighs again.

"You know what, I think Kelly needs some help at the Academy today so I'm just going to go help him," she says loudly to get both of their attentions.

Sylvie knew it was just an excuse to leave and she begins to feel panic.

"What?" Sylvie questions, whirling around to face her best friend, silently conveying how she could not leave Sylvie alone with Matt. It had only been a week after all. The wound was still fresh. It hadn't even scabbed over yet.

Stella shrugs, "I think Casey has something he needs to tell you in private so I'm just - yeah, I'm gonna go."

Before Sylvie can stop her, Stella grabs her keys and makes her way out, smirking at them before she closes the door.

"I - I think I should go too," Sylvie whispers more to herself really as she looks around.

"Please don't go," Matt replies.

Sylvie glances at him. She can see the vulnerability in his eyes. She knows he's nervous by the way he jams him hands into his pockets.

"What are you doing here, Matt?"

He rakes his fingers through his hair and Sylvie notices how he cut it short again, almost the same length he had before he moved to Portland.

"I came to Chicago to see you but then I realized it would have been stupid to just show up at your door without a plan so I came here instead hoping to convince Severide and Stella to help me out," he informs her.

"Help you out with what?" She asks, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"To think of a way to show you that I don't want to take a break. Stella suggested flooding your apartment with 5,000 daisies but I don't think it would have been very practical," he remarks before chuckling.

Sylvie starts to imagine what 5,000 daisies would look like in her living room before she manages to register Matt's first few words.

She blinks before responding, "you don't want to take a break?"

Matt shakes his head, "I realized right after I left that it was a mistake. Portland is a pit stop, Sylvie. It's a change of pace for sure but it's never going to be my home."

"But you're doing so well there," Sylvie reasons. She's seen first hand how he fit into Oregon - with the Darden boys and at his new firehouse. He had created something so special there.

"I am but it's not the same because a part of me was and is always with you," Matt confesses, "I can spend two and a half more years in Portland because I know that when that ends and hopefully, it ends with Ben in college, it will mean that I can come home - to you. That's always been the plan. My goal was always to come back and spend my life with you."

"Matt."

"I understand if you need some time to think about it. It's a big ask but I love you and I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least tell you this. I should have told you this when asked me how long we could keep this up at the wedding. Believe me, I'm still kicking myself at my reply. Maybe it was just me spinning out that night - being at Stella and Severide's wedding made me a bit reflective and maybe I thought you deserved more than what I could offer you but then I realized that maybe I could be a bit selfish about the things I want. We've spent so long circling each other and so little time together before this big change but I know what I want," he says as he takes a step closer. When Sylvie doesn't back away, he walks even closer until he's right in front of her and Sylvie can see the freckles on the tip of his nose.

"And what is it that you want?" She asks, her voice challenging.

"You - I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Sylvie and if that means that we need to come up with a weekly FaceTime schedule or I need to book airline tickets 10 months in advance to come to Chicago to see you, I'm willing to put in the work because you are worth it. You are so worth it, Sylvie."

"You flew all the way to tell me this?" Sylvie wonders.

Matt nods, "I didn't want to say it on the phone or through a text because I wanted you to hear it from me personally. I love you, Sylvie."

"I love you too," she replies. She didn't mean to say it but it just slips out. It was so easy to say, like breathing, because it was the truth. She still loved him and the only reason why she asked for a break was because she didn't want some vague future, a perpetual question mark. She didn't need a play by play of the next three years but she at least wanted to know where they were headed and if they were even going in the same direction.

Matt grins at her but she can see that there was still a question in his eyes, "does this mean -"

"Yes," she says.

"Thank God," he utters before leaning in to kiss her.

The next two and a half years would by no means be easy, Sylvie knew, but at least now they were on the same page, reading from the same book.

"Would the 5,000 daisies have worked?"

She laughs, rolling her eyes at him before pulling him back in for another kiss.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Update - Harry Styles

i’ve been deep inmy harry feels and this thought just wouldn’t leave me alone so i had to write it. im thinking about starting a taglist for harry, i think i’ll write more about him in the future. let me know if you’d be interested in the taglist!

word count: ~5.9k

masterlist

Sequel: The best present

Harry is not that into YouTube videos, has never really been, which is kind of ironic seeing the number of videos on the internet that is about him. The man himself who makes everyone talk online feels weird seeing someone talking on his screen, looking into his soul as if they were right there with him. But today he felt the sudden urge to be like his peers and get lost in random rambling videos from strangers, who felt the need to put themselves out there.

He has made a mean cup of tea for himself, made himself comfortable on his couch with his laptop balancing on his thighs and now is opening up his browser to unwind in an unusual way. As YouTube opens in front of his tired eyes, he stops when he tries to type in the keywords he is searching for. What is he looking for really? He thinks to himself trying to remember what he heard from his friends when they talked about funny or interesting videos. One thing is for sure, he is trying to avoid watching videos of himself in any content. He has had enough of him for the day, it’s time to focus on someone else, even if he doesn’t know the person.

He scrolls through several pages of many different keywords until he settles for a video where a girl talks about how her latest moving day went. Starting off Harry feels weird listening to her talk about such personal things as where her bed went in her room, how she packed all her stuff to fit them in the boxes, but soon enough this feeling settles and he starts to realize it’s kind of relaxing.

It doesn’t take too long for him to fall down a rabbit hole and by the time his tea empties out from his cup he is intensely watching a guy rant about his boss at Subway while doing a mukbang. The latter is a new discovery for Harry, he has never heard of it before, but he can see why some people find it satisfying.

The video ends, Harry checks the time and sees that it’s already after midnight and he hasn’t even realized how fast time flew by.

“Alright, just one more,” he mumbles to himself scrolling down the column of the recommended videos until his eyes stop at one particular upload at the very bottom.

July update for my Sammy, ready the title and an eye-catchingly beautiful girl is smiling from the thumbnail. He finds her breathtaking, the lack of makeup, the worn out hoodie she is wearing and the many various plants in the background makes it appear she is sitting in the middle of the forest.

Harry finds himself clicking on the video before he could even decide consciously to watch it. The screen loads and the girl appears in front of him, this time in a much larger size.

“Hi Sammy, welcome back to our channel,” she starts with an angelic little laugh as she pulls her shoulders up to her ears as if the camera is making her shy. She has no reason to be shy, Harry thinks to himself. His second thought is about Sammy, he is one lucky guy to know this angel and have her think about him. “It’s Y/N here, your one and only sister,” she adds.

Sister. The word brings Harry relief and he is surprised to feel this way, but he has no time to think anything of it because she starts talking again.

“Here is my July update, I’m sorry I’m a little late, but we got back from Oregon yesterday. Aunt Ella is sending you kisses and hugs, she missed you at the barbeque, or maybe it was just your helping hand at the grill,” she chuckles to herself, probably recalling the memory.

Harry has no idea who Aunt Ella is or where she lives in Oregon, but the way she talks about it makes him feel like he is part of the family a little.

Y/N carries on and starts talking about everything that has happened in July. Painting the shed at her parents’ home, buying a new armchair, one her cat absolutely adores and refuses to sleep anywhere else now, she went to the hairdresser to get a trim, but not too much. She tells about her plans for August, how she is thinking about going to the farmers’ market more often, and she has been playing with the idea of adopting another cat.

“I think Henry has been feeling a little lonely lately. He could use a buddy,” she tells the camera, her eyes moving to the side from where a weak but moody meow can be heard as an answer. “Yeah, I think he agrees,” she chuckles and Harry finds himself smiling at the screen.

At the end of the video she asks a few questions from Sammy, how he has been doing, if his wrist feels any better, even asks about a friend called Matthew. Harry wonders if she has ever gotten the answers to her questions and where Sammy saw this video. What is he doing that made her want to do an update on YouTube?

When the video ends Harry clicks on her profile faster than he would willingly admit to anyone and it’s like he opened the gate to paradise. Tens and maybe hundreds of videos are queuing on her page, monthly updates, birthday wishes, short story times about family gatherings, news and happenings in her life.

Harry gets lost in her tales. He watches video after video, noticing the smallest details about her, almost mentally taking notes about her updates, finding anything and everything she talks about so interesting as if he knew those people and places she mentions. He comes to realization that Sammy is her older brother who is serving somewhere in the military. Y/N is making the videos to update him about her life even if she knows most of them doesn’t get to him until weeks later, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. He also learns that Sammy sends them back lengthy emails once a month and always ends them with a joke they made up with his mates at the army. Y/N loves them even when they're not even funny, she never fails to mention that she smiled reading them.

Hours pass by and the rising Sun peeks inside the window pulling Harry back to his own reality, shocked that he just spent the whole night watching her videos and didn’t even realize how deep he has gotten in her life. Lucky for him he has nothing planned until the afternoon, so shutting his laptop he sets it aside and heads straight to bed, but lying between his silky sheets he catches himself staring out the window, wondering what Y/N might be doing right now. From what he collected she lives somewhere in Spokane and has family in Seattle and Portland, which puts her quite a few time zones behind him. He finds the thought of them going to bed at the same time despite the distance a little funny. He lies in bed for quite some time before he finally drifts off to sleep with a particular girl on his mind, who doesn’t even know he is thinking about her.

 “Do you think you can fall for someone you have never met?”

Harry’s question catches Mitch a little off-guard, but he is kind of used to his random bits of thoughts. Pouring some sugar into his coffee he follows the wondering singer to a free table in the corner.

“Isn’t it what all your fans feel?” he answers with a question, earning a surprised look from Harry. He hasn’t thought about this side, now the situation is kind of ironic, he supposes.

“Y’re right,” he nods stirring his coffee around in the small cup.

“Want to let me in on your thoughts?”

Harry feels a little shy to admit how he has watched all of her videos in the past few days, 207 to be exact and now he feels an oddly deep connection to this girl he has never even seen outside of a screen. Last night he dug up her Instagam profile, and even though she is not posting as frequently as she does on her channel, it was a refreshing change to see her in different settings. Chilling at a lake, having drinks with her friends, playing with her parents’ puppy, it amazed him that she has a whole life outside that small portion she lets him see in her videos.

Hesitantly, but he tells his friend about his latest hobby, if it’s not too weird to call it that, while his friend patiently listens and nods along his words while sipping on his morning coffee.

“D’you think I’m crazy?” Harry sighs leaning back in his seat, looking at his friend and colleague for validation that he hasn’t lost his mind entirely.

“Definitely not,” he chuckles shaking his head. “It’s like falling for that girl in school you know so much about but never really met.”

“Only that I’m stalkin’ this poor girl.”

“This is not stalking. We both know it’s far from that.” Harry nods with slight relief that his situation doesn’t seem as bad as he has been feeling lately. “Have you gotten in touch with her?”

“And what am I supposed to do? Comment on her video that I think her cat’s a cutie and I watched all her videos in three days ‘cuz I think she’s beautiful and I find her voice soothing?”

Mitch lets out a soft chuckle at the oddly specific answer he just gave and finds it amusing how interested his friend has grown about someone in such a short time.

“Maybe phrase it a little different.”

“So you do think I should reach out?”

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t. Use your personal YouTube, leave her a nice comment. Maybe she’ll reply.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” he chuckles. “Just go with it and you’ll see. You are obviously interested in her, it’s better than just sit and watch her videos.”

Harry agrees. It wouldn’t hurt to try to reach out to her, possibly in a not too creepy way. Maybe just a sweet comment on one of her videos and if she replies… Well, he doesn’t know what comes after, but he’ll figure it out.

 Y/N updates regularly. Usually once a week and mostly it’s Sunday when a new video gets uploaded. This next Sunday Harry finds himself checking her page occasionally through the day to see if there’s a new update, but it seems like she is missing today. Right until he is driving home and gets a notification from the app.

Y/N has just uploaded a new video! It reads and Harry’s heart beats a tad bit faster. He thinks about pulling over to see it right away, but he tells himself that would be a bit too much, so he is forced to wait until he is in the comfort of his home.

Finally sitting on his couch he opens up his laptop and clicks on the video that has the title: September update.

Y/N sits in her usual spot, Henry in her arms as she is gently stroking his head with a warm smile on her face.

“Hi Sammy! Welcome back to our channel,” she greets him with her usual words and Harry loves how she calls the channel theirs. “This is my September update, even though not much has happened,” she breathes out, eyes wandering to the window besides her and Harry wonders what she sees from her window every day. Does she live in the city? Is it an apartment or a house with a backyard? Are there any trees or does her room have a terrible view, maybe just another house next to hers?

She starts her talk about the month, which she spent mostly with working, a little shopping and meeting her friends. She tells him about her planned trip to the local shelter to see possible new kittens to add to her household and Harry feels himself growing excited about it. He even thinks about what kind of cat he can see get along well with Henry even though he has never even met him.

“Anyway, mom and dad miss you, I miss you too. I loved your joke about ducks in your latest email,” she chuckles sweetly, bringing a smile to Harry’s face as well. “Mom is excited to see you at Christmas, our cousins will come to Portland as well. Maya can’t wait to play Jenga with you, she said she’s been practicing.”

The video soon ends as Y/N tells Sammy how much she loves him and eventually turns the camera off.

He straight away moves the cursor to the beginning of the video and as she starts talking again he scrolls down to the comment section that’s entirely empty. There are only two views on her video, usually a hundred is the max, but she doesn’t seem to care about the views, it’s more about the message.

He clicks to type a comment, but his hands stop above the keyboard as he tries to think of what to write. Mitch was right about taking a chance at reaching out, but what is he supposed to write exactly? Everything that comes to his mind sounds so creepy and scary, and he knows it’s weird that he formed such a deep connection to an unknown girl online. At last he starts typing.

“Hi Y/N! I’ve stumbled across your videos the other day. Love how you keep your brother updated, it’s such a nice gesture. I hope life treats you and Sammy well, you truly deserve it. Good luck with finding a buddy for Henry! Love, an admirer of yours, H.”

He reads it back several times, deleting then retyping it again until he decides to just go with it. A rush of adrenaline washes over his body when he sends the comment and it’s officially out there. Secretly he wishes she would reply right away, but moments pass by, then moments turn into minutes and nothing happens. His comment stands there alone and he has to realize that maybe she will never even reply or even see it.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself as he shuts the laptop down and goes on to do his things, but he finds his thoughts wander over to her from time to time.

He has a busy day ahead of him the next day, quite a few meetings and a fitting. He checks back for a reply in the morning, but it slips his mind the moment he leaves from home and his phone rings right away. Throughout the day he basically barely has time to check his emails, his other notifications are just sitting patiently on the bar, waiting for him to acknowledge them. It’s way past five in the afternoon when he finally have some time for himself after his fitting. He is sitting in his car, people walk past him without even realizing who is sitting behind the tinted windows. Scrolling down he gets rid of everything that doesn’t seem urgent until his eyes stop at one particular notification.

“Y/N replied to your comment,” he reads it out loud, just to make it real, as if he is seeing it wrong and saying it with his own mouth brings it to life. He quickly taps on it and the familiar video opens up and while Y/N starts talking again the screen jumps down to the comments where, in fact, there is a reply from her.

“Dear H! Thank you for your heartfelt comment! I always forget it’s not just my family who sees these videos, but I’m happy you found them interesting enough to watch a few of them.”

“A few?” Harry huffs to himself feeling a little ridiculous he has watched all of them.

“I hope I didn’t bore you too much. Thank you for the well wishes for me, my brother and Henry too. He is sending his love to you. Y/N xx”

The comment was posted three hours ago. The thought that she has acknowledged his existence with not only reading but also replying to his comment brings him extreme joy. He reads her words over and over again, looking for any clue that would give away that she found his comment weird, but it seems like she was more surprised and happy that someone else saw her video besides her brother. Harry starts to type his reply without hesitation.

“Bore me? You saved me from watching another “what’s in my bag” video the other day. It was a pleasant change. I love your plants, by the way. Your room always gives off the most relaxed vibes. It reminded me I should have more of them in my home. H”

Harry smiles to himself posting his comment, the fear of appearing like a stalker long gone from him, the interaction is making his inside blossom from joy. For his biggest surprise a reply appears just a few minutes away and Harry reads Y/N’s new lines with deep hunger.

“Those videos suck the life out of me every time! I might be having a problem with buying too many plants, but I can’t help myself. They truly bring peace to me just by looking at them. I’m glad you are planning on buying some more, you won’t regret it!”

Harry is dying to reply, but he doesn’t want to look too eager and needy, so he opts for just liking her comment to let her know he read it and agrees. He locks his phone and puts it aside with the widest smile on his face as he starts his car and leaves his parking spot.

Two weeks pass by. In those two weeks Y/N uploads two more videos, one about her time with her grandparents, for a change it was filmed at their home and they even said hello in it. Harry feels wholesome seeing her with her granny and grandpa, it’s clear she cares a lot about them. The other video is just a short one where she has met some of Sammy’s old high school friends and she had a check in from them, sending a sweet message to him through the video. Harry doesn’t doubt how much these little things mean to Sammy, even if he doesn’t get to see them right away. Seeing Y/N alone boosts his mood every time she uploads a new video, he can only imagine how they make Sammy feel.

He leaves comments on her videos without a second thought and she replies to all of them, a lot of the time almost immediately. These are the highlights of his days without exception. Knowing that she has anything to do with him just fascinates him and he is starting to realize what his fans feel towards him on a different level. Whenever he sees the notification that she has replied to what he wrote or that she uploaded a new video he flies right to her page to check it, no matter what he is doing. Some of their comment threads turn out pretty lengthy, almost like a chat conversation and it has Harry wonder how they could maybe move it to somewhere else from the comment section.

He wants to ask for her number, but figures it wouldn’t be the best idea. Regardless of how much he enjoys their short little conversations, the situation is still weird and complicated and he doesn’t want to forget that.

But he is pleasantly surprised when she brings it up herself, to move the conversation to somewhere else.

“Would love to discuss that more with you. Up for exchanging IG names?” her question reads and he blinks a few before he fully comprehends that she wants to talk to him more in private. However there’s no way he can send her his real Instagram profile and making a fake one would be way too suspicious. Opening up the private messages he sends her a short, but informative message.

“I don’t use Instagram, but feel free to text me,” and then his phone number.

He sits at the dinner table anxiously, waiting for his phone to light up from a new text, and just a few minutes later it finally comes.

“Hi! It’s Y/N,” he reads from the notification and he saves the number right away.

“Hello! Save me as Harry. I haven’t even told you my name yet, how rude of me!” he replies chuckling to himself.

“Will let it slip this time. Harry. What a nice name!”

“Is it what you thought about from the H?”

“It was one of my theories. The other one was Hayes, but Harry fits you better.”

“You haven’t even seen me, how do you know what name fits me?”

“I don’t know. You had a vibe. There are many great Harries in the world, you seemed to fit between them!”

Harry wonders if she is thinking about him without even knowing that… it is him. He wants to ask her, but decides not to. Instead, he is enjoying that he can now reach her immediately and not through a comment section. He never thought this would actually happen.

 The texts never stop. They have so much to talk about! Their entire life to share, millions of thoughts and so much to discuss! Harry is not proud of the time he has spent with his eyes glued to his phone, but he wouldn’t miss a chance to talk to her for anything. Their friends are not blind to the change in him, but Mitch is the only one with a guess about why he has gotten so addicted to his phone.

“Is it the girl from the videos?” he asks Harry one time when they are at the studio, having lunch break. Different food boxes are scattered around them, on the table and the couch. Harry’s phone just light up from a text and he immediately dropped his lunch to type a response.

He glances up at his friend with a shy smile nodding his head. He hasn’t talked about his newly funded friendship with Y/N yet, it feels like as if he tells it to anyone it might evaporate into just a dream.

“So you reached out, huh?”

“I did,” he nods returning to his food once his message is sent. “She’s great.”

“Does she know who she is talking to?” Harry’s lack of answer tells enough about the truth to Mitch. “You can’t hide forever, especially if you are planning on meeting her.”

“I know,” he answers shortly. “But I just don’t know how I could even bring it up to her without sounding like a mad man.”

“She’ll need proof.”

“M’not ready to show m’self to her. What if it changes everything?”

“Then it wasn’t worth it,” he simply tells him.

Deep down Harry knows it’s the truth, but he is not ready to be robbed from the joy she is bringing him. He has never felt such a deep connection to anyone before and they haven’t even met. It’s just a version of her he is seeing on the screen, not her real self. But it feels real to him and he wants to keep this reality to himself for just a little longer.

 “I wish I could hear your voice, Harry. You are one big mystery to me, you know that?”

He forgets to breathe for a moment as he reads her message, lying in bed one evening, getting ready to sleep, but he wanted to check in with her before ending the day.

“You know so much about me already,” he types back.

“Not enough, I feel like. Sometimes I’m afraid Nev and Max are about to show up at my door and tell me that I’ve been catfished.”

He chuckles at her words, though he completely understands her fear.

“What do you want from me then?”

“Send me a voice message so I know you are real. That would put my suspicion to sleep. For a while…”

Harry hesitates for a long time until he decides just one voice message couldn’t hurt. Just a short one where his voice is not that recognizable so his cover won’t be over immediately.

“Good night, Y/N,” he tells into his phone and then send the recording to her.

He watches the status change from delivered to read and a couple of minutes go by before she finally responds.

“Thank you. Now I know that you are real. I hope I’ll hear your voice in real life one day.”

“I hope that too.”

 His time spent undercover is coming to an end and he knows it’ll happen soon. It’s been weeks since they started chatting, almost an entire month and she’s been hinting her will to see his face and though he has been putting it off, he knows it has to happen.

Fate is playing under his hands, because he is traveling to Seattle for a few days, exactly when Y/N is traveling there to visit her parents.

“I hope you know you can’t leave without meeting finally,” she wrote when she found out they are going to be in the same city.

“It never even crossed my mind!” he wrote back chuckling to himself, however it brought him extreme anxiety that he is now going to be forced to come clean about who he really is.

He spends his whole flight to Seattle making up possible outcomes for their first official meeting. Not all of them end well and it’s just fueling his fear that he might lose her for not telling her the entire truth.

But she is a smart girl, she’ll see your reasoning, he tells himself, however he can’t entirely convince himself that it will be the case.

In hopes of squeezing in more than just one meeting into the weekend they agreed to meet almost first thing after he lands. So after checking into his hotel he heads into the city to finally meet her in real life in a local café she suggested for the occasion. Arriving to the place he is running a little late and she already texted him she’ll be waiting for him inside. Harry is wearing a beanie with shades to try to keep up his cover and it seems to be working, no one has approached him yet.

Stepping inside the cozy looking place his eyes roam around and immediately finds her sitting in the corner, pouring sugar into her coffee, not even paying attention to the door at the moment, but truth is she’s been intensely staring at it in the past ten minutes she has been there.

Harry takes a deep breath and nods to himself before heading in her way, hands shaking nervously as he stops at her table.

She glances up at him with innocent eyes, a smile spreads across her face as she sees that her mysterious Harry has arrived and she doesn’t recognize her until he finally takes his sunglasses off.

Harry watches her face turn from happiness to surprise then utter shock as she realizes who is standing in front of him.

“You are… my Harry?” she asks, confusion laced through her voice and Harry can’t ignore how she called him her Harry. He likes the ring of it.

“M’orry if it’s a little too much f’you, I really didn’t know how to tell ya.”

Keeping his eyes on her he pulls out the other chair at the table and takes a seat across her while she is still staring at him with a shocked and puzzled expression sitting on her face. Then she looks around in suspicion as he wiggles his coat off his arms, before her eyes settle on him once again.

“It’s not an episode of Catfish, right?” she asks making him chuckle.

“It is not, don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry if I’m being weird, but this was literally the last thing I was expecting,” she admits leaning back in her seat. “I believed things like this only happen in movies.”

“Not just there,” he smiles, slowly relieving that she is still sitting there and hasn’t ran out. It’s going way better than he expected.

She needs a little time to put the whole picture together and befriend the thought that she indeed just developed a friendship with Harry Styles through her videos for her brother. The absurdity is still shocking to her, but the more time passes by with him still sitting there, the more she finds peace with it.

Once the shock and surprise is gone they slowly realize they are seeing each other in real life finally. Harry feels overwhelmed, she is even more breathtaking than in her videos and through texts. He is mesmerized by her whole being and could listen to her talk in person forever, he wouldn’t get bored of her.

Time stops existing as they sit at the little café, talking for hours even though that’s all they’ve been doing through texts, but they just can’t get enough of hearing each other, seeing each other’s reaction and be able to see each other and not stare at a screen while talking.

Unfortunately, time never stopped just for the two of them and soon she realizes she needs to head back home. Harry doesn’t want to let go of her just yet so he offers to give her a ride, thanking himself for getting a rental for himself upon arriving. Y/N accepts the offer so the two of them head back to her parents’ home, soaking up the last minutes of their precious time spent together.

“Thank you for today, I really loved meeting you finally,” she smiles at him once they are parked on the driveway.

“I hope I didn’t shock you too much,” he chuckles scratching his chin.

“Just a little,” she admits before they both get out of the car and walking around it she stops in front of him, after a moment of hesitation she opts for a hug that he returns more than happily.

It feels as if her frame was perfectly sculpted to fit in his embrace and Harry can’t imagine how he could go this long without even seeing her in person. He knows it’s gonna be utter misery to be away from her after they leave the city.

“Will I see you before you take off?” she asks letting go of him. Harry looks down at her, the urge to kiss her growing bigger with each passing moment, but he is not sure if it would be appropriate to give it a try on their first time meeting.

“I’m free tomorrow for a lunch,” he tells her and she nods smiling.

“Then I’m free too,” she chuckles.

There’s an awkward moment where they are not sure what else should be done or said and the more they wait the weirder it’s getting so Harry clears his throat as he takes a step back, sad that he has to leave without feeling her lips on his, but he is not trying to be too greedy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles walking back to his car. Y/N waves after him and sitting back to behind the wheel he takes a moment to himself to collect himself after everything that has happened today. His hands curl around the wheel and he is about to start the car when someone knocks on the window. Y/N is smiling at him through the glass and he rolls it down curiously.

“I just…” she starts hesitantly, her eyes wander down to his lips and Harry knows what’s about to happen, but it still catches him by surprise.

Y/N leans in through the window and presses her lips to Harry’s, capturing them in a sweet, long awaited first kiss they both have been dreaming of for quite a while. Harry smiles into the kiss, bringing his right hand up to cup her cheeks as they stretch the moment for as long as possible. Whenever one pulls back the other brings them back for just one more kiss that turns into two more, then three… It takes a long time for them to finally let go of each other.

“See you later, H,” she smiles backing out of the car and running up to the front door, smiling wildly as she waves in his way one last time before disappearing in the house.

 Lying in bed that evening Harry is scrolling through his Instagram feed when he finally realizes he can now follow her without a worry. He is quick to find her profile again and hit that follow button. He is happy to see she was already following him.

He is just about to put his phone aside and go to bed after such a busy but exciting day when a notification pops up on the screen.

Y/N has just uploaded a new video!

He taps on it quickly and her smiling face greets him from his phone’s screen.

“Hi Sammy! It’s me again. Welcome back to our channel,” she starts with a shy smile. The setting is new this time, he supposes it’s her parents’ home this time. “This is going to be a short video, but I wanted to tell you about something. Or someone.”

Harry’s heart skips a beat when he thinks about where it’s heading. He listens to her voice holding his breath.

“I met someone today. We’ve been talking for a while, but I could finally hug him today. His name is Harry, and he is a wonderful man. I think you two would get along well,” she says with a soft chuckle. “I love spending time with him and I hope he feels the same way. Actually…” Her eyes move up straight to the camera, something she doesn’t do often. She usually stares out the window or plays with Henry while talking. “I think he is watching it right now. Hi Harry!”

“Hello, Beautiful,” he greets her back with a smile as if she could hear him.

“I wanted to tell you how amazing you are making me feel. I hope I didn’t disappoint. I was so nervous to meet you today, I hope I lived up to what you imagined me to be.”

“You were so much better than that,” he answers again.

“Anyway… I hope you feel the same way. You are the first guy I’m talking about in an update, so appreciate it!” she tells him and he chuckles lightly. “I’ll see you soon, H. But until then… Know that I’m thinking about you.”

“M’thinking about you too, Angel.”

“Sammy, I miss you as always. I hope everything is well, can’t wait for your next email. I love you,” she smiles before the video ends.

Harry heads straight to the comments. This time he doesn’t leave a lengthy one, just a short line, but it has everything he wanted to tell her.

“I feel the same way.” The comment reads. Just a few seconds later comes the notification and he smiles sweetly at his phone.

Y/N liked the comment.

[believingispowerfulmagic]

Beyond the Call of Duty

Summary:  Season 1 AU. The night of the fire at Town Hall, Regina is treated by a dashing EMT named Robin Locksley. They have an immediate connection and Regina pursues it, going against everything she has been taught by her mother and Rumpelstiltskin. With Emma Swan threatening to end her curse, will Robin help Regina learn what a happy ending truly is?

Chapter 1:  FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Chapter 10: Revelations

FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Excerpt: 

The motion to move Mary Margaret's trial was granted and relocated to the next jurisdiction from Storybrooke, Portland. Mary Margaret was scheduled to be transported to their prison there by the end of the week, after which no one would ever remember her again.

Well, with two exceptions but Regina could handle those.

First, she would start brewing a memory potion. She had limited ingredients but she hadn't had a need for a potion in a long time so she knew she would be able to make one and then wait. Emma would then likely follow Mary Margaret as one of the two who would remember the woman. Once she was gone, Regina would give the potion to Henry and get him to forget Mary Margaret as well as Emma.

Then everything would go back to normal.

Her only problem would be figuring out how to keep Emma Swan from crossing the town line again but she hoped Gold could help her with that as well.

Who said villains didn't get happy endings?

"Alright, Robin will be here shortly," Regina said, coming down the stairs as she finished putting in a new pair of earrings to go with her outfit. "Will you two be okay?"

Emma nodded, still looking awkward in Regina's house. She wrapped her arm around Henry's shoulder. "We'll be fine. Right, kid?"

"Absolutely," Henry said, smiling for the first time in a long time. "Have fun tonight, Mom."

It broke Regina's heart that Henry was only happy because she had agreed to let Emma babysit him that night. But she reminded herself that she had only done it because soon the pesky Savior would be gone and Henry would forget her. She saw no harm in letting him spend some time with the woman before then.

Forcing a smile to her face, she said: "I will."

"Why don't you head inside while I talk to your mom about a few things before she leaves?" Emma asked, gently pushing Henry toward the dining room. He nodded, heading into the room and leaving the two alone.

Regina raised an eyebrow, wondering what was going on. "Is something wrong, Miss Swan?"

"A lot is wrong," Emma replied, speaking low so Henry couldn't hear her. "We both know Mary Margaret is innocent."

"No, we don't," Regina said, keeping her voice even. "You believe she is innocent. I know she is not."

Emma frowned. "And is that why you are going out on a date? I thought you were so broken up over your friend."

Fire filled Regina's veins. Emma should consider herself lucky there was no magic in this realm or she would've already been incinerated by one of Regina's fireballs. Instead, she stepped closer as she fixed Emma with a cold glare. "I am heartbroken that Kathryn is gone and it pains me that we will never give her a proper funeral because of Mary Margaret. But I am glad that she is going to get justice and I think I can go celebrate that."

"Is it justice if the wrong person is going to prison?" Emma asked, still harping on Mary Margaret's innocence.

Thankfully, the doorbell rang and Regina was able to step back. "I have to get that. And I would ask that you keep your theories about Mary Margaret's innocence to yourself tonight, Miss Swan. The last thing I need is for Henry to believe she has been framed. This is hard enough on him as it is."

"Fine," Emma said, crossing her arms. "But Henry is a smart boy. He knows the truth as much as we do."

Regina didn't respond, crossing to the door. She opened it, relieved to see Robin there with a bouquet of flowers. He smiled, holding them out to her. "For you," he said.

"Thank you," she said, leaning closer to kiss him. "They're beautiful."

"Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman," he replied. It was cheesy but it still melted Regina's heart.

She motioned for him to come in. "Let me just put these in water and then we can go."

"Take your time," he replied, stepping into the house. "We have plenty of time before our reservation."

"Hello, Robin," Emma said, still standing by the dining room with her arms crossed as she regarded Regina with narrowed eyes. Regina didn't know what the sheriff expected from her and decided to just ignore her for now.

Confusion filled Robin's eyes as he looked between Regina and Emma. He cleared his throat before saying: "Hello, Emma."

"I asked Emma to watch Henry," Regina said. "A peace offering, I guess."

Pride and happiness replaced the confusion in his eyes. "I'm glad to hear it."

Warmth spread through her and she kissed his cheek, hurrying into the dining room. Henry sat there, looking bored until he saw the flowers. "Did Robin give those to you?" he asked.

"He did," she replied. "I'm just going to put them in water before we head out."

"Is he out in the foyer?" Henry asked, perking up.

She nodded, pleased to see that he was excited about Robin being there. "You can go say hi if you want."

"Thanks, Mom," he said, jumping up to head toward the foyer. Regina took it as a good sign as she entered the kitchen with her flowers.

After taking a vase and filling it with water, she unwrapped the flowers and just put them in the water for now. She figured she would trim and prepare the stems once she got home to ensure the flowers lasted longer. Regina carried them out to the dining room and placed them in the middle of the table, running a finger along the silky petals of one of the many red roses in the bouquet.

She was a very lucky woman.

Regina headed back to the foyer, hearing Henry's voice as he was talking with Robin. She picked up her pace, eager to see her son interacting with her soulmate and boyfriend as she hoped they would build a good relationship. Coming through the doorway, she smiled as she saw Henry and Robin standing next to each other.

Her joy, though, was tempered by Robin's serious expression as he looked down at Henry. "I know it's hard to believe, Henry, but Miss Blanchard is the only one with motive to hurt Kathryn. Everything points to her," he said.

"But she's being framed," Henry insisted.

"No, she's not," Robin said, reaching out and gently squeezing Henry's shoulder. "If you think about it, there is no one who would want to hurt Miss Blanchard or hurt Kathryn and frame an innocent woman."

Henry frowned. "You really believe that she did it."

"I do," Robin confirmed. "And I think one day, you'll realize it too."

"Come on, kid," Emma said softly, pulling Henry to her side. "Robin and your mother have a reservation to make. Let's let them go."

Regina took a deep breath as she approached them. "You know how to reach us in case of emergency, right?" she asked Emma.

Emma nodded. "I have your number and Robin's. I should be good."

"Good," Regina said, turning her attention to Henry. "Goodnight, sweetheart. I'll see you in the morning."

He shrugged. "Whatever."

She swallowed, opening her arms. "Do you want to give me a hug?"

"I guess," he said, leaving Emma's side to just press his body against Regina's. He didn't wrap his arms around her, instead letting her do that with him instead. She knew it was the best she was going to get so she accepted it.

Regina kissed the top of his head. "Love you, sweetheart."

He mumbled something that she chose to believe was love you too before moving away from her to stand with Emma again. Regina took a deep breath before turning to Robin. "I'm ready to go if you are," she said.

"I am," he replied, holding out his hand. "I think you're going to love this place. It comes highly recommended from John."

She hummed, knowing that his roommate and friend was something of a connoisseur of food. As they left her house, she said: "Then I'm sure it will be wonderful."

Once they were in the car, Robin said: "I'm glad you're letting Emma spend time with Henry. I think it will be good for all of you."

"I hope so," Regina said, knowing that Emma's time in Storybrooke was no doubt limited. "I worry though, especially with Henry's belief that Mary Margaret is being framed."

"It's hard to imagine your teacher killing someone," he said. "At least when that teacher is Mary Margaret Blanchard. I know I had a few teachers that if they were arrested for killing someone, I would absolutely believe it."

She chuckled, wishing the curse had given her some memories of a false life to share with others. It had only come up a few times but they were growing more frequent now that she knew Robin. Regina recalled some of her tutors when she was younger instead and nodded. "I had at least one I would've been believed that about myself."

He nodded before his smile fell. "I'm guessing Emma believes Mary Margaret is being framed as well?"

"Yes," Regina said. "Or at least she wants to believe it. However, she's yet to offer me any alternate theories. I figure either she's going to accept it herself or resign if she can't."

"You think she would do that?" he asked.

She shrugged, even though she was certain Emma would do just that. "It's just a possibility. Emma's background is as a bail bondwoman. She may decide to use the skills used there to try to prove Mary Margaret innocent and can't do that and be the sheriff at the same time."

Regina held her breath, waiting to see how Robin reacted. She hoped that story would seem plausible enough for when she started to sow the seeds of doubt amongst the townspeople about Emma's fitness to be sheriff. It would help get rid of the Savior earlier if the people of Storybrooke thought her crazy and too dedicated to pet projects rather than their safety.

"You're right," he agreed. "Eventually, something is going to have to give. I doubt the people would be happy to let her use up their tax dollars trying to prove some crazy theory."

"Exactly," she said, letting out a sigh of relief. It seemed her story would work.

Good.

[whatisthiswritingthing]

I’ll be home for Christmas - Tobin Heath x Reader

Prompt: I just heard Mistletoe by Colbie Caillat, and it gave me a prompt idea.. A little angsty Christmas and happy ending, like someone can’t be home for Christmas and it causes a fight? But they’re able to make it just in time for a kiss under the mistletoe

Title is cliche as fuck, I know 🤷🏼

“You really can’t come?” Tobin asked Y/N.

“I really can’t Tobs, I said I would work months ago,” Y/N replied, laying on the bed watching Tobin pack her bag.

Christmas was five days away; Tobin was going home to New Jersey to spend it with her family. Y/N would be working over Christmas, staying in Portland for the holiday, flying out on the 27th to join Tobin and the rest of her family for a belated celebration.

“Why would you agree to work? You knew I would want you with me, you’re supposed to meet my family,” Tobin commented, clearly frustrated her girlfriend wouldn’t be coming home with her.

“I agreed months ago,” Y/N repeated, “before I had any idea you would want me to be part of your family Christmas. I was pretty sure I would be alone like every year, so I agreed to work like always.”

“But we were dating when you agreed! Did you even think of me when you said you would work?” Tobin shouted, throwing a ball of socks into her bag, looking up to Y/N.

“Of course I thought about you Tobin! I thought about how happy you would be with your family, something I haven’t had for years. I thought about how I haven’t celebrated Christmas in years. I thought about how much I would love to spend it with you and your family, but I also thought about how much it would hurt for you to say no. I thought about a lot of fucking things Tobin.”

With the outburst Tobin’s shoulders slumped, realizing she had only been thinking of herself in this situation, not about Y/N and her turbulent past. The soccer player opened and closed her mouth a few times, not knowing what to say.

“I’ve got to go to work, have a good flight, let me know when you land.”

Defeated, Y/N placed a hesitant kiss on Tobin’s cheek who still stood unmoving and walked out of the apartment.

At hearing the door close, Tobin snapped out of her haze, she flopped down on her bed, all frustration leaving her body.

Tobin sat on the bed thinking for a few minutes, unsure of what to do, she slowly got up to continue packing; her flight leaving in four hours.

Sitting in the airport, waiting for her flight to be called, Tobin played with her phone, debating if she should message Y/N or give her space. She had no idea what to do, she knew she had to apologize, but should she do something before her flight or after? Should she call or text? Wait for Y/N to make the first move?

Deciding to at least let Y/N she aware she was in the wrong, Tobin to text Y/N.

           Tobin:              Hey Y/N, I’m sorry for what I said, I know you would rather be with me than here working. I’m about to get on the plane, but I’d really like to apologize better when I land. I love you.

Her message went unanswered before Tobin turned her phone off for the flight.

By the time she landed late that evening in New Jersey, Tobin immediately turned her phone off airplane mode to see if Y/N had responded.

           Y/N:                 It’s all good Tobs, I get it, you don’t need to apologize.

Tobin could tell through the text that Y/N was still upset, though not mad at her, sad for sure.

Wandering to the baggage claim, she focused on her phone, debating what to say to her girlfriend when she was wrapped up in a tight hug.

“Tobin!” Perry shouted excited.

Tobin immediately hugged Perry back, happy to be back with her sister, feeling some of her stress from her fight fading.

“Hi Perry,” Tobin snuggled in for a second before pulling away.

Perry pulled away as well, grabbing Tobin’s cheeks in both hands, squinting her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just landed, I’m just tired Per,” Tobin shook her head, stepping back, turning her focus to the luggage coming around.

“Where’s that hot girlfriend of yours?” Perry commented, immediately figuring out the problem.

“Work,” she shrugged, not looking away from the luggage carousal.

“She isn’t coming? I thought mom said she was coming?” Perry asked, confused.

“She is coming after Christmas,” Tobin sighed, the conversation getting on her nerves. She wanted it over with so she could call her girlfriend and apologize properly.

Sensing Tobin was done with the conversation, the two waiting patiently for her luggage

           Tobin:              Just landed, can I call you in a bit. I’d really like to talk to you.

                       Y/N:                 I’m just about to go into surgery, I’ll call you when I’m done.

           Tobin:              Sounds good babe, safe a life.

Tobin tucked he phone away, knowing she wouldn’t get a response until Y/N was done her surgery.

Tobin was greeted by her whole family when she walked into her parents home. Everyone excited to see her, nieces and nephews immediately asking what she brought them.

The couple hours were overwhelming, family supper an event in itself. Questions thrown around the table, everyone catching up, the kids struggling to sit still, everyone happy to all be together again.

Later while everyone was lounging in the living room watching a movie, Tobin’s phone went off, causing her shoot off the couch to answer it in the other room.

“Hey Y/N, I wasn’t sure you would call me,” Tobin started, unsure, “how was surgery?”

“Surgery went well,” Y/N yawned, “why wouldn’t I call you?”

Y/N was a pediatric surgeon at the hospital in Portland, it made for long hours and not much free time, causing her to miss many important events. Like Christmas.

“We had just left things so weird; I wasn’t sure.”

“It’s really alright, Tobin, I understand where you are coming from. If I could be with you I would,” Y/N tried to sound as reassuring as she could.

The two continued to talk, things felt mostly normal by the end of the call, but still off.

For the next few days, the couple talked, but it seemed strained and forced. Y/N taking a long time to text back, rarely answering her phone, and when she did, she would the calls were brief.

Christmas morning, Tobin woke to a simple Merry Christmas text from Y/N. Tobin tried to call her before going down to Christmas morning with her family, only for the call the go straight to voicemail.

Tobin checked her phone constantly throughout the day, getting no response from Y/N. She knew Y/N did not have the best experience with Christmas, but she hadn’t expected her ghost her for the entire day.

She did her best to distract herself, helping the kids set up their toys and test them out, going for a run after lunch, taking a nap on the couch after.

Tobin was woken up from her nap to a hand on chest and pressure on her lips. She initially flinched back from the contact.

Y/N pulled back slightly, letting Tobin wake fully and get her bearings.

Opening her eyes, Tobin registered who it was that kissed her.

Shooting up, almost hitting head butting Y/N who quickly pulled back.

“You’re here!” Tobin launched herself into Y/N’s arms.

“Yea, I’m here.”

“I thought you had to work?”

“I did, pushed all my surgery’s back-to-back, got a flight out right after my last one and came here,” Y/N shrugged. “I wanted to spend Christmas with you.”  

Tobin glanced to the hallway and saw her family watching with large smiles.

“You are amazing, I love you,” Tobin pulled Y/N back into a gentle kiss.

For the rest of the evening, Tobin followed Y/N around the house, proudly introducing her to the extended family that had arrived for supper. Y/N charming them all instantly.

“You guys have a to kiss!” one of the smaller children yelled, pointing at the couple while they stood in the hallway.

Y/N leaned in a gently kissed Tobin on the cheek.

“No! You have to kiss her lips!” an older child yelled.

The two women chuckled, making eye contact.

Tobin dramatically placed a hand on Y/N’s hip and supported the back her neck with the other, dipping her down dramatically, kissing her fully.

Helping Y/N standing back, Tobin pulled her girlfriend back into her side, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Is that better you goobers?” Tobin chuckled.

[sailtoafarawayland]

Best Left Buried

(A CS Halloweek AU)

SUMMARY:  It's a strange place, Storybrooke – empty streets and picturesque Victorians that loom a little differently than the shadows they cast. Like most things in this town, you can't be sure they're being entirely honest about who they are. Curtains flicker in the windows as you pass, and gates swing on rusty hinges even after the wind is long gone. There's one too many black cats to be entirely natural, and there's something unsettling about the dolls that sit in the pawn broker's window. Like most old, New England towns, Storybrooke has a bit of a checkered history – except the truth is that Storybrooke isn't actually very old at all, and its history is a bit more black than checkered.

RATING: T 

Happy @cshalloweek, everyone! The prompt that struck me was: Monsters / red - under a spell | mystery | "I'm not going anywhere" | bloodcurdling

This takes place in an AU Storybrooke with Halloween and supernatural vibes. I hope you all enjoy my take!

AO3 - FF

Best Left Buried

I'm new to storytelling, so you'll have to forgive me if I don't follow the rules. I don't want to start at the beginning, or the end. One would think that leaves the middle, but...how about we begin at 'on the way to the end'?

And every story needs a little mystery, don't you think? The stranger on a lonely night, the bloodcurdling scream that no one hears? Like most Halloween tales, we'll need to start with some dark and gloomy, and a woman all by herself on the side of the road.

Well, maybe she isn't so alone after all...

/

“Everything alright here, Sheriff?” a slow, cautious voice called, cutting through the hazy beam of light that glared from the SUV parked twenty feet or so behind her.

Gravel crunched beneath heavy boots, moving closer.  

Arms stretched and gripping the raised trunk of her cruiser, Emma stared down at the person tied up and bent within, knees tucked against the bumper and eyes glaring up at her, narrowed and angry above the length of black cloth cutting into the corners of his mouth.

Well, fuck – old fashioned worked just fine up until the moment a state trooper wanted to intrude on her evening plans.

Before the man could make a sound, Emma twisted her wrist.

His eyes went wide, panic winning out over anger as he discovered his voice no longer worked the way it should, and that no matter how hard he tried to scream, there was nothing to hear.

No matter how desperately he tried to kick the bumper to alert the person approaching them, his body just wouldn't obey.

Arching a brow as if to say, 'did you think I was just gonna let you call for help?', Emma smiled and simply tossed the shovel resting against the bumper over top of him, the thunk of it hitting the back of the trunk resounding in the quiet night.

“Yup,” she called back, letting the 'p' pop from her lips as she slammed home the latch of the trunk, leaving her cargo in complete darkness. “Just clearing up some roadkill. Must be an easy night if you're up this way – Portland run out of Halloween mischief?”

The trooper shook his head, stepping into her space as she turned away from the trunk and leaned casually against it, brushing her gloved hands together as if to rid them of dirt.

“I wish,” the man muttered, adjusting the volume on his radio as it roared with static. “Man, these things never work in this town of yours – must be a lousy signal. Don't know how you guys manage.”

“Small town,” Emma shrugged, “not much trouble to manage. What brings you up so late?”

“We actually got a call in for a missing person, thought I'd head up your way and see if you'd laid eyes on him.”

Emma leaned forward to study the trooper's phone as he held it between them, the screen illuminating her furrowed brow and lips pressed into a concerned line.

“Doesn't look familiar, but I can ask around if anyone's seen him. He dangerous?”

“Nah, don't think so – might be off his meds though – anxiety, apparently. His fiance called in and said he ran out of their hotel room a few days ago during a fight over which direction they should head, inland or up the coast. She mentioned he'd wanted to head this way.”

“I swear, the foliage brings out nothing but crazies,” Emma groaned, rolling her eyes. “Well, I'll keep my eyes open, let you know if we see anything. It's been nothing but TP'ed houses and ding dong ditch the past week.”

“Technology may change, but the classics never get old,” the trooper laughed. “Speaking of, the wife was asking after the recipe for that lasagna you dropped off at the station a few weeks ago. Any chance you could – ”

“I wish I could help you out,” Emma cut in, raising her hands in supplication, “really, I do, but Granny would have my head if I even asked, or worse – she'd stop serving me.”

“Ah, well, I suppose some secrets are best left buried,” the trooper chuckled, flashing her an understanding smile. “Besides, I'd hate to run across you without your caffeine on board.”

“Right on both counts, Dietz,” Emma grinned. “Tell Charlene that Killian and I said hello, and keep safe.”

The trooper waved a gloved hand in farewell before climbing back into his SUV and pulling a u-turn. Emma slid into the driver seat of her own car, watching in the mirror as his lights were swallowed up by the darkness that would lead him safely out of Storybrooke.

//

Have I captured your attention? It's so good to finally have someone listening. How about we jump back to the beginning now, and I'll tell you a story about a quaint New England town called Storybrooke?

It's a strange place, Storybrooke – empty streets and picturesque Victorians that loom a little differently than the shadows they cast. Like most things in this town, you can't be sure they're being entirely honest about who they are. Curtains flicker in the windows as you pass, and gates swing on rusty hinges even after the wind is long gone.

There's one too many black cats to be entirely natural, and there's something unsettling about the dolls that sit in the pawn broker's window. Like most old, New England towns, Storybrooke has a bit of a checkered history – except the truth is that Storybrooke isn't actually very old at all, and its history is a bit more black than checkered.

Or perhaps I should say red.  

If you're just another tourist passing through in October, blinded by the leaves and farm stands filled to brimming with pumpkins and hot cider, then you might not notice that something about this town isn't as it seems. That's what everyone here hopes for, that you'll spend a few bucks on some food and plastic souvenirs and move on up the coast to the next small town with a good story.

But the locals lose their easy smiles when someone looks too closely beyond Main Street, asking questions about things that are best left buried.

They don't want you to ask questions about the occurrences and complaints, the accusations and stories that have found their way to the darker corners of the internet. They frown when curious couch detectives hold up printed photos of people long gone – or should I say 'missing' – directing them instead to a rack of shirts emblazoned with the words 'I survived Dead Man's Peak'. Have you heard the legend of the centuries old ship's Captain whose spirit roams the cliffs? People go up there all the time to take photos...can't be too careful around those steep drops, they say, nothing but cold sea below...

It has an odd reputation, Storybrooke, for missing people and gruesome deaths, most of them ruled accidental – falls from great heights, victims of drowning – but the town makes its living on the backs of all those old legends, witches and vampires and ghosts, so they sell their shirts and coffee mugs, and look the other way when morbid curiosity seekers and ghost hunters make the long drive from their dark apartments and flickering screens all the way to their small town in Maine.

Most of the time.

As long as you don't look too closely and become someone they don't care for.

Because those people...I can promise it's not long before their social media goes quiet. Their camper van disappears unseen from Main Street one night – and just like that, it's as if they had never driven to that quiet town at all. The friendly old lady who runs the diner never saw them, never served them coffee and tucked a mint under their pillow. The sweet librarian never made suggestions on what they might like to check out for their stay. The harbormaster never leased them a boat to take a tour around the bay, and the kindly shrink who walks his dog three times daily  never once saw them sipping coffee on the park bench.

It's not until too late that you can see them for who they really are.

How the friendly old woman who owns the diner pulls raw meat from the fridge after closing, arthritic fingers digging deep into the mass of red flesh and drawing it closer to her mouth, her eyes flickering shut with pleasure as she tears hunks of it free and swallows them down. How the sweet librarian locks up at the end of the day and returns to the back room of the Pawn Shop, the knowledge she's gleaned during her studies made useful as she seeks to return her lost love to the world of the living. How the harbormaster grins wickedly in the dark of a warehouse, teeth sharper than humanly possible as his eyes hone in on the soft, pulsing flesh of a young woman's neck. How the shrink sits beside an unsuspecting stranger on the park bench, drawing their sadness and woes from them and feasting, leaving those he speaks to holding darker and more open wounds than only moments before.

You won't see it until it no longer matters, until they have no intention of allowing you to flee to the next town with a story to tell.

But I promise you, none of them have a story quite like Storybrooke. I should know, I was there when it began.  

And now...well, I'm not going anywhere.

//

“So, this is the evidence I needed to see?” Emma grimaced, toeing the bit of faded, rotten canvas poking from the dirt, the orange tarpaulin long separated from the bit of metal that was once a frame.

“This is where it all started,” the man insisted, walking frantically between the trees and gesturing widely to the overgrown clearing. “This was where we'd set up camp, and here, right here – ” He knelt and swiped his hand through a layer of wet leaves, exposing what looked to be an old circle of stones. “This was where we roasted marshmallows.”

“It look's like an old campsite,” Emma agreed, eyes darting to the sun that was only just setting low over the forest, “but there must be hundreds of these abandoned all along the Maine coast. I don't see how it's – ”

“I found this,” the man rushed, desperate to make her see reason. He yanked a mildewed piece of fabric from the ground nearby, waving it between them. “It was my dad's. His name is on the tag. This is the spot, right here, where it all started.”

“Alright, look, Mr. Mendell – ”

“Greg. My name's Greg.”

“Greg, can you just slow down and explain this to me again – one more time, from the beginning, please?”

“Thirty years ago, my father and I were camping in the wilderness. Then out of nowhere, there was a rush of something in the air, and an entire town appeared right beside us.”

“Out of nowhere?” Emma deadpanned, whipping out her flashlight and shining it over the rapidly darkening forest. “Towns don't just fall from the sky, Mr. Mendell.”

“It was like magic, and when we tried to leave the town, she kept my father here – the Mayor. When I tried to get help and get back to him, it was gone – the entire town. Like it was under some sort of magic spell.”

“You're saying magic a lot.”

“I know I sound crazy,” he stammered, running his hands over his close cropped hair as he paced back and forth.

“Yeah, just a little,” Emma snorted, passing the beam of light over his face and watching as his eyes squeezed shut.

“But I'm not. I tried to move on, start a new life, but I couldn't, not until I figured it out – and now I have. It's this town, it has secrets,” he hissed, his hands tightening into fists at his side.

“Okay, sir. I think it's best we get you back to town and maybe give someone a call – do you have any family I can reach out to?”

“I don't need you to call anyone,” he blurted out, eyes wide and panicked as he took a step away from her toward the shadowed trees. “I need you to help me find out what happened to my father – everyone in this town, they're in on it. The Mayor, she looks exactly the same as she did back then. The woman who runs the diner and her granddaughter...they're all the same!”

“Sir, I'm gonna need you to just calm down,” Emma sighed.

“Do you have any idea how many people have gone missing in this town? My father may have been the first, but he wasn't the last. As soon as anyone starts asking too many questions – poof, gone!”

Reaching up, Emma rubbed at her brow with an exhausted huff as she approached the man while he continued to rant.

“There were those two women – the DeVille woman and her friend. They took vacations from work to visit and never came back. That blogger – the one who posted a photo of some strange, purple cloud that went viral. His partner came to meet up with him after he got a concerning text and never found him, then – strangely enough – his partner disappeared as well.”

“So you're telling me that this town somehow magically appeared here out of thin air,” Emma scoffed, “and that we're murdering people to keep it secret.”

“I looked into you – you only moved here recently, so you're safe. You have to do something about it, Sheriff.”

“Here's the thing,” Emma sighed, shrugging lopsidedly. “You're right.”

“What?” the man rasped, some instinct that rises in humans when danger is sensed making his face grow paler with each second that passed between them.

“You're right about the town, about magic, and this – ” she toed the rotted tent again, grimacing. “This was an oversight of Regina's. Why am I always cleaning up her messes...”

“You're in on it,” he mumbled, staggering backwards and as far from Emma as possible, nearly falling beneath the canopy of the trees.  

“Quite perceptive, this one,” hummed a disembodied voice from behind him.

Greg spun wildly on his feet, trying to pin down exactly where the voice had come from, his movements eliciting a chuckle from the shadows. With his back turned to Emma, he never saw the blow coming, his eyes slipping shut before the dark, leaf-covered soil rose to meet him.

Emma leaned her weight on one hip, a large branch spinning idly in her hand.

“The troublesome ones always are.”

“Excellent form, love,” Killian praised, and Emma smirked as her husband stepped forward, black leather and dark hair separating from the shadows, his sea blue eyes glimmering mischievously. “I was wondering when you'd just get to the point.”

“Needed to know exactly what he knew.”

“The same as everyone else, it seems – except for this,” Killian pointed out, kicking the remains of some rotted out camping gear. “Why am I not surprised another of the Queen's disastrous decisions has come back to haunt us.”  

Emma waved her hand and the forest floor was magically pristine, completely devoid of anything resembling a long-disused campground.

“Problem solved.”

“Well, almost,” Hook smirked, waving his hook at the unconscious man lying between them. “There's still this one to deal with.”

“Yeah,” Emma sighed, toeing at the man's chest with her boot. “Look's like dinner is gonna be late unless one of us heads back now. Rock-paper-hook?”

“Quite humorous,” Hook drawled, rolling his eyes as Emma waved a single hooked finger in the air, “but I think I'll tackle dinner. Otherwise, the lad will be eating pop tarts and deli meat from the packaging.”

“Hey, that's protein, and the pop-tarts are pumpkin spice, so that has to count for something.”

“I highly doubt there's any squash in those monstrosities – a balanced meal they are not.”

“Should I point out how hypocritical you're being,” Emma retorted, stepping into his space and matching his grin with her own. “I'll try to be quick, unless you wanted to...” She nudged the body between them with her foot, her eyebrow angled in silent question.

Killian glanced down at the unconscious Greg Mendell, his tongue lingering over sharp fangs as he studied the tremulous pulse in the man's neck. Then his eyes darted back up to Emma, catching the way her pulse quickened and arousal widened her pupils.

“I think I'll take my repast once you return, love.”

“Just what I was hoping to hear,” she purred, knowing the wait would only make him more voracious. “I'll see you home in a bit.”

“I'll count the minutes,” Hook whispered darkly, leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss, her tongue swirling around the curved fangs that replaced his canines. His fingers found their place in her curls, and he angled her head with a gentle tug, leaving the imprint of his teeth on her neck. “Now, allow me give you a hand back to the cruiser.”

“Such a gentleman,” she breathed, still battling her racing heart and the desire pooling low in her gut as Hook squatted and lifted Greg's body as easily as if the man weighed nothing, tossing him over a shoulder.

“Shall we?”

They hiked the short distance back to the pull off, the squad car already covered in a thin layer of fallen leaves that drifted down from above.  

“You know, I could have gotten him myself,” Emma said, knowing he would have been back with Henry already if not for her. “You'll be that much longer getting home now.”

“Nonsense, Swan. Henry can wait a few minutes on good form. Go on then, pop the boot.”

“It's called a trunk. Who did you even pick that up from? Pretty sure they don't have 'boots' in the Enchanted Forest.”

“You know, I'm not sure,” Killian shrugged, using the motion to slough Greg's still unconscious form into the trunk beside the rest of Emma's things. “Nottingham, perhaps?”  

“Do I want to know what you guys have been up to?”

“Nothing untoward, I assure you. The man can hardly hold his rum – I think Robin simply likes to include him so he can rob him blind during poker.”

Before Emma could blink, Killian had pulled several lengths of rope from his jacket and quickly bound Greg's hands and feet together, finishing the entire presentation with a strip of black cloth that he rolled tightly and wedged into his mouth, tying it round the man's head.

“So old fashioned,” Emma teased, slamming the trunk shut and leaning against it, welcoming her husband down for another kiss, trying to ignore the way it set her body afire.

“I'll see you at home, love,” he promised, and then he was gone, leaving nothing more than the cold press of his lips and the ghost of his thumb against her chin.  

“Look's like it's just you and me then,” Emma sighed, rapping on the trunk twice before fishing for the keys in her pocket. “Let's get this over with.”

//

This is the part of the story that always makes everyone gasp, although I think if you've been paying attention, the reveal will hardly be as shocking for you as what happened next was for me.

I woke, though I don't remember falling asleep. I was too terrified for that, so like everything else that happens in this god forsaken town, I blamed it on magic. Magic had stolen my voice and ability to move, it had disappeared countless people, my father included, and it was about to get rid of me as well.

And tied up in the trunk of a cop car, there was nothing I could do about it.

Everything was black, and it took me a minute to realize that nothing was moving. I could feel my breath hot and wet around the gag in my mouth. After a moment, the trunk clicked open, swinging high to reveal a starry sky surrounded by a halo of trees.

It was kind of a beautiful view, but you don't appreciate those things when you're pretty sure you're about to die.

And she stood there, blonde hair lit from behind and the edges of her jacket glowing red as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I'm gonna be late for dinner because of this shit. Every year, it's someone new.”

I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out. As if she sensed my intention and it made no difference at all, she waved her hand and my voice rushed back to me, the gag and the magic that had silenced me both gone.

“Help! Someone help – ”

“There's no one around to hear you,” she snapped, reaching for the shovel that she'd chucked behind me. “Now get out of the car.”

“You're crazy if you think I'm just going to – ”

Her wrist flicked again and suddenly I was standing ten feet from the car in the middle of a field, the ropes that had bound me gone. I stumbled, trying to regain my balance, and I wish I could say I'd been quicker to run, but I wasn't, and even if I had, I'm sure it wouldn't have mattered.

My eyes drifted to the ground beside me – or the lack of it. A large hole roughly the size of a person had been dug into the earth, black, loamy soil piled high beside it.

“Please – ” I took a step back as she took one forward, but another wave of her wrist stole any ability I had to move on my own, my breaths shuddering against my rib cage as I stood there like a deer frozen to the road.

I could only watch in horror as she reached toward me, a look of annoyance on her face. Her hand pressed against my chest, and before I could even understand what was happening, she reached through it –  pain gripped me, tearing a feral sound from my lips as roughly as she jerked her hand free.

She stepped back, something bright red and glowing caged within her fingers, a heart – my heart.  

“Get in the hole,” she sighed, as if she were directing me to fill out paperwork and not ordering me to my death.

I wanted to object, to run and scream, but instead my feet moved, carrying me to the looming pit. I could only stare, utterly terrified, as my shoes dangled over the edge, the soil threaded with roots damp in my palms as I gripped the edge and dropped.

“Please,” I begged, staring up at her where she stood, looming over what was to be my grave. Her face was shadowed by the moon behind her, but her jacket glowed as red as my heart where she held it. “Why are you doing this?”

“I'm the Savior,” she explained with a tone that said she found the job rather inconvenient. “I protect this town, keep it safe.”

“From what?”

“From people like you, who come and poke your noses into our business. We have a life here, and we just want to live it in peace. So I do my part, we all do.”

“So now you're just gonna what, bury me alive?” I screamed, bile thick on the back of my tongue and my limbs shaking with adrenaline.

“Alive?” she laughed. “No, what kind of monster do you think I am?”

I could feel my heart thumping against my bones as she held her arm over my open grave, the red glimmer moving closer, illuminating the glistening curves of worms and beetles that treaded the freshly disturbed earth.

And then she squeezed.

Pain unlike anything I'd ever known consumed me, and as some non-corporeal part of me rose high above, I looked down and saw the grey ash that fell from her hand to litter my corpse below.

She brushed her palms together, as if they were dirtied by nothing more than crumbs, and then with a tired flick of her wrist, the black soil scattered on the ground tipped itself back into the hole, burying me entirely.    

//

There's an old, scenic Victorian home whose windows peer out over the sea.

Inside, a woman comes home for the evening. She hangs her red leather jacket reverently beside its black companion.

At the table, a husband dusts hot cocoa with cinnamon, smiling as she takes it to warm her hands after an evening in the cold.

She sits on the sofa with her son, watching as he's captivated by the soft glow of the TV, a controller gripped between his hands and an empty dinner plate on the table.

It's a scene fitting for an autumnal New England night – Norman Rockwell for the millennials.

There's no outward sign of the monsters that lurk beneath. There's no blood on her hands, but they're red with it all the same, just as her neck is painted red later that evening as her husband takes his own meal.

Her and every other person in this town – it's all painted red.

So, now you've listened to my story – one more 'tourist' who's taken the long drive up the coast to this damned town, searching for mystery and ghosts.

You've found one, one of many – the only question is, will you linger to hear the rest, or will you flee onward to the next small town with its small stories, grateful that the monsters you sought have passed you by?

Choose wisely, Ghost Hunter – some stories are best left buried.

END

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