#queenoflocksley

[somewhereapart]

6. One sound you can’t stand?

My alarm clock.

[htoria]

"#all of you must follow this immediately#or i will quit the fandom forever" - Hayley, I forbid you from quitting.

Sigh, fine. Lol

[secretsantaandsmores]

queenoflocksley's wishlist

THINGS I’D LIKE: Fic, art, vid – everything’s good with me! Stories are amazing and make us all happy (or sad – I am not afraid of angst, even on Christmas, lol), and art and vids are things I can’t really do myself, so those are always great!

WHAT I CAN DO: Fic. I have some graphic ability, too (meaning, I can and do use photoshop), but it is very low on the scale compared to other people, lol. Fic is better.

WHAT I CAN’T DO: Vids.

ANYTHING YOU DON’T WANT? Nothing I can think of right now!

SEND ANON MESSAGES TO ME? Absolutely! :)

[lucifer-morningstar]

queenoflocksley reblogged your post wow what’s going on with the tracked t... and added:

Tumblr update.@new-xkit-extension fixed it so that it redirects you to the /tagged page like it did before. The only...

thank you love, i haven’t been much on tumblr this week so i was a bit lost lol

[somewhereapart]

7. Inspiration, time, or motivation. Choose two. + 14. Your favorite side pairings to put in? :)

7. Time and motivation. Because they’re the two I’m struggling with right now, and the reason it’s been a month since the last BIn update (oops).

14. Still don’t know. hehe

(Cool Asks for Fic Writers meme)

[ilovett]

queenoflocksley replied to your post: “my room literally smells of coffee and cough syrup… gotta love my...”:

<3 get better!

thank youu 😘

[captain-sharpe]

My Tumblr Crushes:

freifraufischer (7%)

daggzandarrows (3%)

knitlark (3%)

lustfulxxlove (3%)

queenoflocksley (3%)

fyprinceofthieves (2%)

wordsnquotes (2%)

nephelite (2%)

outlawqueenluvr (2%)

Great group of people! *.*

[emily31594]

"Catch me." + OQ

Robin doesn’t hear the telltale crunch of leaves until it’s too late. A hunter’s snare of vines entangle his ankles, the pouch of stolen jewelry slipping from his belt, the bandit’s voice gravelly-warm in his ear, challenging, “Catch me.”

He spins around just as she disappears from view, the combination of her trap and his momentum sending him stumbling to the ground, a grudging smirk forming on his lips at the crumpled wanted poster she’s left for him, and the caricatures of their faces printed side by side. She always leaves these for him, a nudging reminder of their competition, and now it feels as though his week has gone wrong unless he’s collected two or three of them.

He tracks her through the forest for the better part of an hour, his hands pressing into the crunched, damp leaves she’s left behind, his fingers tracing the occasional spot where she’s knocked a small branch from a tree.

He laughs outright when he finds a second of those wanted posters pinned to a tree, an arrow protruding from the unfortunate oak’s bark, until he hears the swish of moving leaves and branches, and realizes he’s caught up with her and startled her from her hunt. He sees a flash of dark hair, and then she disappears into the tree line, Robin following behind, squinting into the dusk, more determined than ever.  

He skids down a ravine, past a copse of older trees and across a narrow section of a rocky stream, loses her trail for minutes at a time and then carefully finds it again.

Only a few wisps of sunlight are still breaking in through the tree branches when Robin decides it’d probably be a decent idea to head back to camp. As much as he hates to admit defeat (and give up on those lovely jewels doubly stolen).

And that’s when her amused voice reaches him from only a few feet away. “Looking for something?”

He spins around to find her leaning casually against a tree, arms crossed in front of her, the barest outline of her face illuminated by what little moonlight can seep through the leaves.

“I believe I’ve found her,” he counters, his lopsided grin reflected in the way her teeth dig into her bottom lip, her eyes dancing.

“I took pity on you,” she informs him, stepping closer. “It’s no fun when the competition has gotten himself lost.”

“I am not lost,” he argues, scowling–he’ll admit–a touch petulantly. But the sparkling look in her eyes–she knows he wasn’t lost, but she’s going to insist he was all night, just to irk him, just to get under his skin the way no one ever has before.

“Let’s get out of here,” she says, running her palm from the crook of his elbow to his wrist and then giving him a tug as she takes off walking, “I decided to rescue you. I didn’t decide to waste my whole evening on it.”

“Such chivalry,” he compliments as he lifts a branch out of her way on their right and she pointedly chooses a path to his left instead.

“You’re welcome for not letting you spend the night out here.” Regina leads them down a slope, and then right through a cluster of what appear in the dim light to be evergreens.

“I would’ve found you eventually.”

“Would you have?” she asks skeptically, ducking under a low branch, that light always in her eyes that keeps her remarks teasing rather than critical.

“Mhm. And anyway, how do you know it wasn’t just a trick, to lure you back so that I could take the jewels?”

Regina turns around to face him, a barking laugh leaving her lips as she closes the distance between them, her eyes scrunching up, “We both know you’re not that clever.”

He narrows his eyes at her for a moment, his hand hovering over her waist, a reflex reaction to her closeness, and then the way her eyes keep darting to his lips, the moonlight flickering in her dark eyes, make it rather difficult to concentrate on anything but the vibrating space between her back and his hand. His heart pounds; his breath hitches.

Robin swallows heavily, his gaze locked on hers, and his fingers tremble slightly, but she must be as enthralled as he is, because she doesn’t notice as he liberates the small pouch of jewels from her belt and tucks it into his shirt cuff. In its place, he leaves a neatly folded slip of parchment on which a rough hand has drawn Regina beautifully and Robin with a comically twirled mustache.

“Catch me,” he challenges, a second of her narrowed eyes in his peripheral vision before he’s back amongst the trees and on his way home, his smile lingering and his hand warm where they almost touched.

He knows she will.