#rumbelle showdown 2018

[rumbelleshowdown]

Showdown Author Reveal

Here they are! I went alphabetical because with a list this awesome, there’s no other fair way to go about this. These are all the authors who chose to be revealed in the 2018 Rumbelle Showdown! 

Fandom, feel free to squeal and offer congratulations. Writers, you are now free to move about the fandom. Go ahead and post your fics.

Thank you all for a wonderful several months of stories, shares, and voting! It’s been a genuine pleasure moderating this event.

<3 Marie

A Very Lost Cuttlefish is @minticetea

Agnes is @worryinglyinnocent

Blue Glitter is @bellegold

Bouquet is @little-inkstone

Daydream Believer is @girlgonnafly

Deshelved is @elanorjane

FrenchyFry is @madasateacup

Golden Puppet Master is @quotes-art-love

It’s Just A Cup is @findingtallahassee

Lady Rochester is @moonlight91

MermaidBride is @ethereal-wishes

Metal Fish is @barpurplewrites

Nicole Ireland is @smartgirlsaremean

Snowflake is @thespinningmeanie

StarlitWings is @we-aim-to-misbehave

TheAfternoonRose is @imgilmoregirl

The Great Librarian is @wizzygold

the one eyed piñata is @theladyofthedarkcastle

Teadora is @jackabelle73

Tilly is @thecompletebookworm

Traffic Cone is @avatoh

witchy is @winterswanderlust

Your Favorite Cryptid is @ifishouldvanish

[justanoutlawfic]

A Deal With The Devil: 1/4

Surprise, I was It’s Just A Cup! 

Plot: When her car is repossessed due to her father's stupidity, Lacey has to make a deal with Mr. Gold.

Prompts: Prompts: repossession; another favor; how could you?

Also on AO3

“How could you?!?” Lacey exploded. Normally, she would just ignore her father. She was forced to live with him until she could fork over the money for her own apartment. This time, he had gone too far.

“I had nothing else to put up for collateral,” Moe said, taking a swig of his beer. “I was already using my van for the shop.”

“But that was my car!”

“I put the down payment on it.”

“And I’ve made the rest!”

“You can walk or take the bus. Either way, just get out of my face.”

Lacey swallowed, trying to do all she could to not go off on him further.

Walk away, just walk away. He’s not worth it.

She had woken up that morning to find a bald man in a tow truck dragging away her baby blue Jaguar. Her father had gifted it to her for her 18thbirthday, on the condition that she’d make the remaining payments. Little did she know, he had put it up as collateral for one of his many loans. They were so far behind on the bills and no matter how many shifts she pulled at Granny’s and the Rabbit Hole, they never seemed to catch up.

Moe was lousy when it came to business. Sure, people always bought flowers, but he squandered his money on beer and scratchers, rather than things he should. It was why Lacey had to drop out of college. It was embarrassing as hell to be pulled out of class to be told that her tuition check had bounced. She was forced to pack up her dorm and move back to the depressingly small Storybrooke.

That was nearly 6 years ago and she was forced to clean up her father’s messes, even to this day. Only this time, it was affecting her. Storybrooke was such a small town that busses rarely ran and her jobs were too far to walk on foot. She needed to get her car back, which meant facing Gold.

The thought caused a chill to run down her spine. Everyone knew Gold, the ruthless landlord who gave no second chances. Making a deal with him was like making a deal with the devil himself. Anyone who truly did was desperate. Moe constantly was, in order to keep a roof over their heads.

Now, it was Lacey who was desperate.

Pushing herself up, she grabbed the keys to her father’s van and drove it into town, parking in front of the pawn shop. Gold was a man of many hats, it would seem. Not only was he a landlord, but he owned the pawn shop and had a law degree. It made him feared, he could probably make anyone disappear if he really wanted them to and it was rumored he already had.

Holding her head up high, Lacey strutted into the shop. She didn’t have anything presentable for a business transaction, so she was wearing a black mini-skirt paired with fishnet stockings and a black tank top. Her eyes trained on Bruce Gold, who always looked like a million bucks in his designer suits. He looked up at her, nodding.

“Miss French, I’ve been expecting you.”

That caught her off guard. They barely knew each other, only speaking the rare times she was home or at the shop when he collected rent. “You have?”

“I’m not a moron, I knew when your father offered up that car as collateral that it was yours.”

“And yet you let him put it up?”

“He put down the down payment.”

Lacey let out an irritated sigh. “Yes, but unlike my father, I pay my debts. I’ve been paying off that car for the past 6 years. It’s mine. I want it back.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, at least not until your father puts a decent chunk in the money he owes me. He’s behind on rent for both your house and the shop, along with his payments on his van and other loans.”

“Maybe that’s your own fault for loaning him so much money. You should know by now what a deadbeat he is,” Lacey fired back, feeling brave.

Gold raised an eyebrow, it wasn’t often that people spoke back to him with such gusto. Gripping onto his cane, he made his way around the counter.

“I do suppose it’s unfair that you are without a car,” he mused. “After all, as you said, you are not like him.”

Lacey drew a deep breath. “So, you’ll give me my car back?”

“Not quite. You see, at the end of the day, it was still his collateral. It wouldn’t look right to the other citizens if I just gave you your car back.”

She knew this was coming. “You want something?”

His eyebrows knitted together. “How did you guess?”

“As you’ve pointed out, you have a reputation.”

“Suppose I do.”

“So, what is it you want?” She stepped forward, puffing out her chest. “Perhaps a little bit of fun in the loft upstairs?”

“You’d be willing to have sex with a stranger for your car?”

“I need it back. I have work tomorrow.”

“And that what you think it’s worth? Me fucking you?”

“Everyone has a price.”

“Aye.”

Gold looked her up and down, a small smile going across his face.

“Time is money,” he said. “I would be willing to forgive the debt your father owes over his current loan and return the car he put up as collateral if you attend an event with me.”

“An event? You wouldn’t rather just have sex with me?”

“That would last a few minutes at the most, I’d have you for the whole night in this case.”

Lacey bit her lip. She suppose she should count her lucky stars. One night at a stuffy event, versus a few minutes of discomfort. “What kind of event is this?”

“The town is trying to fix the bridge, it’s a charity auction.”

“I think I heard about that.”

“Wonderful. It’s tomorrow evening, I’ll pick you up at 6.”

“I have to work.”

“Which location?”

“Granny’s.”

“I’ll talk to Miss Lucas and have someone cover your shift. Wear something appropriate and you’ll have your car back by Monday morning.”

“This is really all you want?” Lacey asked, her voice dripping with disbelief. “Surely you could scare someone else into going with you.”

Gold tilted his head. “Ah, but maybe I don’t want someone else.”

For the first time in a long time, Lacey felt a blush creep up on her cheeks.

[elanorjane]

His Favorite Woman

Summary: Weaver juggles the many women in his life. Written as a sequel to the 2018 Rumbelle Prompt Showdown Rounds 1, which was written under the pen name Deshelved. 

AO3

Weaver had stepped out for lunch and wasn’t ready to go back to the precinct yet. As much as the boys admired him, something about their esteem felt empty. He beat his palms against the steering wheel. He was restless. Had been for days. Choosing not to examine that feeling too closely, he decided to make the rounds to all his informants. Then he'd stop by Roni’s for a nightcap so maybe he'd be able to get some sleep. He parked the car. Rolling up in an unmarked black car scared off his informers, it was easier to approach on foot. 

Static came over on his radio. The dispatcher relayed a report of multiple car alarms going off in a neighborhood. She requested someone in the field respond. A distraction, exactly what he was looking for. He plucked his transmitter off the dash and radioed in that he’d take it. It wasn’t far off from where he was now. He could still walk and release some of the edginess he couldn’t seem to shake.     Speaking of distractions...there she was, his ultimate diversion. The woman who lingered on the backs of his eyelids when he tried to sleep at night. He ducked under an awning, allowing him to watch her slink towards him undetected. She strolled down the sidewalk like she owned the whole block. One shapely leg crossed over the other. She was wearing that little trench coat and heels again, the same ones she’d had on in his office. He’d had a dream the other night that featured those heels in a starring role. He didn’t consider himself the BDSM type, in fact he demanded he be the one in control. But in his fantasy, when she’d sat down in the chair of his office, something inadvertently fell off his desk. When he rounded the desk and crouched to retrieve it, she’d lifted one lithe leg and stuck the heel of that shoe in his shoulder. She applied pressure, forcing him onto his knees, at her feet and at her mercy. He hadn’t complained. In fact he’d woken up so hard he's been forced to give himself an unsatisfying release with his hand. Maybe that was where the unrest had come from. Not that he needed a woman in his life. The one in front of him was evidence enough that they were more trouble than they were worth. He continued watching her advance towards him. She paused every few feet and casually tried the door of a car. Son of a bitch, he cursed to himself. Of course. Of course it was her. He was about to emerge from his hiding place and interrupt her when a kid came barreling around the corner. He ran straight at Lacey. He’s gonna mug her, he thought. Weaver considered letting the ironic scene play out, a pickpocket stealing from a thief. But he pushed off the wall and moved to intervene. To his surprise, Lacey smiled when she saw the boy coming, the kind that showed her teeth. He’d never seen her smile like that. She was all smirks with him. The kid said something and she replied but Weaver was too far away to hear them. As he neared, she spotted him. Her eyes widened, obviously not as happy to see him. He assumed because he was about to ruin her grift. She quickly murmured something to the kid who sped off before Weaver could get a good look at him. He nodded at the retreating boy, “Who was that?” Lacey turned to watch the lad as he disappeared out of sight. She hesitated, “Ah….” She spun back around, “new customer for my burgeoning escort business,” she joked. “He couldn’t afford me.”   Weaver let it go, thinking back to the charges he’d cleared up for her. “Keith bothering you lately?” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “No,” she bounced on her heels, “thanks to you.”    He nodded to the line of cars down the street. “Is it you I’ve been getting calls about?” “That depends,” she commented, unconcerned. “What streets are you getting calls about?” “Spring and Madison.” She shook her head, tendrils tumbling out of the pile on the top of her head, “Nope, not me.” “But you know who is,” he leveled with her.   “They’re my friends,” she told him flatly. The statement told him that she knew who it was and that she wasn’t going to tell him.   “They’re going to get you into trouble I can’t get you out of,” he countered. She shifted her weight onto one heel and frowned. “You don’t have to protect me,” she erupted defensively. “I’m not that Tilly girl you’re always hanging around.” She crossed her arms, “What’s up with that anyway?”   He sniffed, “Tilly’s my best informant.” She was gobsmacked. “The girl’s half crazy, living under a bridge, and you’re gonna tell me you go see her for her information?” He bared his teeth, “I’m afraid you got this backwards, sweetheart,” he hissed. “I’m the cop. You’re the criminal.” She leaned in and glowered at him, “Well unless you got something to arrest me on I’m gonna be on my way.” She stalked past him, her heels clicking on the pavement.   He thought about hauling her smart mouth in for questioning. But the idea of having her alone in a small room with him didn’t feel like the best for either of them. He gave up the informant rounds and went back to his office instead and scowled at paperwork for a few hours. Roni’s was more urban professional than cop watering hole, but it was across the street from the station. He could usually have a drink in peace. Normally the yuppies were scattered among the tables but tonight there was a crowd at the bar. As he approached, the sea of mostly men parted, revealing Lacey in the center, holding court. “Alright, this time twenty says I can bounce the cherry off the back of my hand, catch it in my mouth and tie the stem in a knot.” She called to Roni, requesting she bring them another glass of cherries.    The air of disapproval must be wafting off him because many eyes turned to him. Eventually, Lacey noticed him. It’s not that what she so often was doing was illegal. It was that she continually made it his problem. She tilted her head at him, “Don’t you ever go home?” She wasn’t glaring at him anymore, so he suspected she was a few drinks ahead of him. No, in fact, he rarely did go home to his sparsely furnished apartment. In fact, he was known to spend the night on a cot in one of the holding cells. “I could ask you the same question.” He nodded at Roni, who slid him a whiskey across the bar. “Game’s over, boys,” Lacey announced. “The po-po showed up.” There were a few groans but the young men quickly found amusement elsewhere. She leaned towards him, forearm on the bar, letting her blouse gape open at the top. “I think you’re lonely,” she mused. That hit a little too close to the source of his restlessness for his comfort. Roni, wiping her damp hands on a rag, came up behind Weaver. She leaned close to his ear, “Will you get her out of here, please? She takes all their money before they even order a second drink. I run a bar, not her personal racketeering business.”   He was more than happy for an excuse to not comment on Lacey’s observation. He downed the rest of his drink. “Let’s go,” he issued the order in his official police business tone.   She slid off the stool willingly enough, but he wrapped his hand around her forearm anyway. “So, lemme see,” Lacey counted off on the fingers of her free hand. “You take orders from Tilly, Roni...Tell me, Detective, if I tell you to turn around and spread ‘em, would you?” “That’s enough,” he jerked them out the door. The crisp winter air hit them. He hoped it would sober her up a bit so she’d quit running her mouth and pushing his buttons. “You take all your professional advice from a homeless girl and you keep another woman’s whiskey in your bottom drawer.”     So she knew it was Roni who regularly supplied him with the stash in his desk. “It’s not like that,” he assured her.   “What are you trying to do?” she wondered aloud.   “My job,” he ground out.   She shook her head, wrenching her arm out of his grip, “No, I don’t think that’s it. There’s something else going on with you.” He sighed deeply. She had no idea. “Well, when you figure it out let me know.” She wasn’t ranting at him anymore, but she was studying him curiously, which was more unnerving. He’d rather she yell at him. Making up her mind about something she lifted up on her toes and kissed him. He didn’t do anything. He didn’t even close his eyes. His mouth was a tight, thin line. He blinked. What was she doing? What was he doing? By the time he registered her soft pout, he felt her start to move away and he finally snapped into action. His hands clutched her waist and yanked her against him. She squeaked in surprise but wrapped her arms around his neck. He didn’t give himself an iota of a second to think about what he was doing before crashing his lips against hers.      This. This is what he’d been missing, he thought when he tasted the cherry flavor on her tongue. The restlessness he’d been struggling with started to fade. There were a million reasons not to do this. But it felt like the beginning of an idea and he wanted to chase it all the way to its denouement. She pulled or he pushed them against the outside brick wall of the bar. His hands began to wander up and down her sides, but all that met him were winter layers. He couldn’t touch her properly like this. He wouldn’t be able to chase away the unease that had been plaguing him for days if he couldn’t feel all of her. He settled for biting and sucking at the exposed skin of her neck. Was he so desperate for her because he was lonely? Was he using her? Did it matter? She lived close to here, he knew she did. “Let’s go somewhere,” he murmured by her ear, before tracing the delicate skin there with his mouth.   She froze in his arms. The suggestion, instead of stroking the fire that was beginning to burn in him, seemed to extinguish hers. “Um, not my place,” she seemed to read his mind.   His suspicions about her living arrangements were renewed. He’d managed to snake his hand up under her coat and shirt and ran his thumb right above the waistband of her pants. He kept up his ministrations. Keep the perp distracted and the truth might slip out. “Why not?” he pressed. She opened her mouth and he could tell a lie was about to come out but was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. She visibly sagged in relief, her arms falling to their sides. He yanked the phone out of his back pocket. The urge to pitch it into the street to get run over by a bus appealed to him strongly. “Weaver,” he answered tersely instead. He leaned one hand on the wall above her shoulder and held her gaze, boxing her in and signifying that their conversation wasn’t over. While she couldn’t make out the words, Lacey heard the clipped, precise tones she recognized from the local news. He ended the call. “It’s..” he began. “Victoria Belfrey, I get it,” she pressed herself harder into the wall, putting whatever distance she could between them. He saw the moment her eyes closed off to him, the gentle curiosity replaced by casual indifference. She looked completely unaffected by what just happened. He felt utterly destroyed.   He stood there, unwilling or unable to move.   She crossed her arms and shook her head, “Face it, Detective, you sure do have a lot of women in your life,” she told him. “And I don’t want to be another. It might get too crowded,” she added a little quieter. She stood up straight, jutting out her chin. “Don’t worry about me. I can see myself home.” But he could see the hurt behind her steely gaze. She wanted to be chosen for a change, she wanted to be put first. And he couldn’t give her that. He stood rooted to the spot. “Your fan club awaits,” she insisted, waving him off. “Go save everyone else, Detective,” she slid out from underneath his arm and rushed down the street. A strong compulsion to go after her came over him but he quickly stamped it down. She was right. She was just another diversion, not the answer to his troubles. He was a fool to think for a moment that she was.

[jackabelle73]

New year fanfic asks: 9, 18, and the bonus question?

9. Short term goals… what do you hope to complete this week or in January?

I’d love to think that I can post two more chapters of my long Glee fic, Between the Moon and NYC, by the end of January, which will hopefully finish it. And I’m trying very hard to post at least one chapter a week of my newest Rumbelle WIP, Love and Happiness, so that would be four chapters of that in January. 

18. Do you typically post multi-chapters as you write, or finish it all and then start posting? Would you like to change your posting method?

In the past, I’ve always posted each chapter as I’ve written it, and typically don’t write too far ahead of the current chapter, even though I almost always know how the story is going to conclude, just not the details of how the story would get there. I would love to be the kind of writer who completes an entire story before starting to post; it just sounds so much less stressful than writing and posting one chapter at a time. I’m slowly moving toward that, I think. My most recent WIP had 20K written for it before I posted the first chapter; it wasn’t 100% complete, but definitely had the majority written. I’ll call that an improvement. I also have two other stories waiting in the wings (one Glee/Klaine and one OUaT/Rumbelle) that I have a lot written for but haven’t started to post yet. I’m hoping to finish those in their entirety before I start posting. 

BONUS QUESTION FOR DECEMBER 2018 — if you answered questions from this list last year, find your answers and compare your 2018 goals to your results. How’d you do?

I answered this one already; I’ll just copy-and-paste. 

Looking back at my answers to this ask meme from last year, I feel like so many of my answers are still the same this year. So in that sense, I feel like I haven’t made much progress. But I did post 61K words of new fic, and I completed the 50K challenge of NaNoWriMo for the first time after several attempts. (Didn’t write the entire 50K for one story, but I wrote 50K total in November.)  I participated in the Rumbelle Showdown at the beginning of the year and made it to Round Four, which I was really proud of. So I guess in summary, I did some good work in 2018, and I still have a lot of room for improvement.

Thanks for the ask! Sorry it took me so long to answer. I wasn’t ignoring you, I promise! My mom came to visit for a girls’ weekend and we’ve been busy. 

*

FANFIC ASKS FOR THE NEW YEAR!

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Comfort for Desperate Souls

My second and final fic in the 2018 rumbelle showdown, written under the pseudonym Agnes

=====

Comfort for Desperate Souls

Prompts:  I’m telling; just this once; I can’t do this

It would have been a perfectly ordinary evening in the Dark Castle. They had fallen into a routine, the two of them. Once the day’s work was done, and once Rumplestiltskin had returned from whatever deals he had been making that day, they would sit together in the castle’s main hall until it was time to retire for the night. Belle would read whatever new book from her vast library had caught her eye that day, curled up on the chaise longue, and Rumple would spin, and they would compare notes on what had happened that day. 

The tales of Rumple’s exploits were usually far more interesting than her own daily chores, but since the arrival of Ebony in the castle, she’d had a few more amusing stories of her own to share, which usually ended in Rumple grumbling about what the kitten had managed to get herself into this time.

This evening had been shaping up to be no different, until Rumple suddenly stopped spinning, as if he had been frozen in place. His brow was furrowed and his head tipped slightly on one side, as if he was listening out for something. He remained like this for several minutes, and Belle was beginning to worry.

“Rumple? Are you all right?”

She started off the chaise and was halfway towards him when he moved again, turning towards her. His expression still showed deep thought, and he seemed to be rather perturbed.

“Rumple?”

“A desperate soul,“ he said eventually. "I can always hear the call of one.”

“Are you going out again?” Belle asked. “At this time of night?”

Rumple nodded. “I think I shall have to. These calls aren’t the type of thing I can ignore. If they’re so desperate that they’re calling me, then they must be very desperate indeed.”

Something was wrong. Usually Rumple was gleeful when he got to go out and make deals with the unsuspecting folks who were not ready for the prices that he would extract. Tonight he seemed far from his usual self, worried almost.

“Belle,” he began, “I get the feeling that I might need your help for this one.”

“Me?” Belle took a step back, alarmed. “What, no, how?”

“I only hear the voice,” Rumple said. “I never know the circumstances until I actually get there, but I can tell when I’m needed, and I’m needed now. But something tells me that it would be a good idea if you came along too.”

Belle was still unsure. “Is it going to be dangerous?”

Rumple shook his head. “No, not at all. I can promise you that. I would never put your life in danger like that.”

Although his reputation as a trickster preceded him everywhere he went, Rumplestiltskin had never outright lied to her, and Belle took some comfort from that. The notion that he cared enough about her not to want to endanger her warmed her heart a little.

“Just this once,” Rumple continued. “Please.”

Slowly, Belle nodded her agreement. “All right. I’ll come and investigate this desperate soul with you.” A small smile played over her lips. “It’ll get me out of the castle at any rate.”

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes, then snapped his fingers to summon her cloak from her bedroom. “Come, we don’t have any time to lose.”

They landed in a swirl of smoke in the middle of a dark field, and Belle stumbled onto her knees, unused to magical travel as she was. She didn’t think that she’d be asking to do it again in a hurry. Rumple caught her before she could plant her face into the ground, and if he held on to her for a little too long whilst checking that she was unharmed, then Belle pretended not to notice.

“Is this it?” she whispered. Rumple nodded.

“Yes. This is where the call came from. Now we just have to find out who made it.”

“In the middle of a field in the middle of nowhere?”

“Not precisely the middle of nowhere.” Rumple pointed over to the left, and through the gloom, Belle could just make out the dim form of a cottage, with a light burning low in one of the windows. As they approached the house, Belle could make out faint voices at the edge of the field. As she got closer, she realised that the voices could only have belonged to children.

“Marcus! You shouldn’t have done that! I’m telling!” It was a little girl’s voice.

“No! You can’t!” This was an older boy. “This is the only chance we have of Mother getting better!”

“Marcus! He’s the Dark One!”

Belle hung back as they continued to approach the children, and Rumple stopped, turning back to her.

“Belle? Is everything all right?”

She shook her head. “I can’t do this.”

“What?”

“They’re just children!” Belle exclaimed in a harsh whisper. “I can’t get involved with this, with you making deals with desperate children who are just trying to save their mother!”

Rumple’s face was the most sombre that she had ever seen it.

“And precisely how is our staying out of this supposed to help them?” he asked. There was no accusation in his tone, just a question asked in good faith. “You said yourself that they’re desperate. Don’t you think that they’ve already exhausted all other avenues before calling for me? And if I abandon them in their hour of need, then what hope have they?”

When he put it like that, Belle had to agree. They were the children’s last hope, and they couldn’t ignore their call.

“But they’re just children,” she repeated, still uneasy by what they were about to do. “They can’t pay the price for your magic.”

The corner of Rumple’s mouth quirked up in a smile for the briefest of moments. “Who says that they’re going to have to?”

They reached the children, and immediately Belle could see why Rumplestiltskin had wanted her to come along. They shrank back in fear at the sight of him, and Belle stepped forward to reassure them.

“It’s all right. We’re here to help you. Your mother’s sick, and needs medicine, yes?”

The boy nodded. “We don’t have enough money to buy the herbs from the healer, and our father is on a ship.”

“I see,” Rumplestiltskin said. “Can you take me to your mother, so that I can determine what herbs she needs?”

Unsure and still afraid, but mollified by Belle’s benign presence, the children led the way into the house. The mother, restless and feverish on a small cot, startled when she saw Rumplestiltskin.

“Dark One,” she began, her words punctuated by coughing. “I… We can’t afford the price of your magic…”

“It’s been taken care of,” Rumplestiltskin said, waving her worries away. He looked at her with his head on one side for a long time, and then gave a definitive nod. “Yes, this should be an easy enough potion to procure. Don’t go anywhere.”

He vanished without a word, leaving Belle stranded in the little cottage with the mother and two children, who were looking at her with a kind of awe. Belle didn’t know what to say or how to reassure them; she couldn’t exactly say that this was the first time that she’d been out on a deal with Rumple. Luckily, there was a knock at the door, and the boy went to open it.

Rumple stepped inside.

“Why didn’t you just puff back inside?” the girl asked.

Rumple put a hand on his chest, affecting a shocked expression. “Just ‘puffing’ into someone’s house unannounced is the height of rudeness,” he said, and despite their desperate position, the girl laughed. Rumple presented a small potion bottle to her with a flourish. “Two drops, morning and evening, for the next two days. That will save your mother.”

The children nodded solemnly. “Thank you,” the boy said, then he elbowed his sister. “Say thank you!”

“Thank you, Mr Dark One.”

Belle hid a giggle behind her hand.

“Well, we had best be off,” Rumple said brightly. “Come on, Belle, let’s leave them in peace.”

They left the family in their cottage, walking over the fields to where they first appeared.

“Rumple… What about the price?” Belle asked. “All magic comes with one, that’s what you’ve always said.”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “It’s a simple enough spell. I can shoulder the price. Just this once.”

He offered her his arm without another word, and Belle found herself wondering. The Dark One really wasn’t as dark as people said.

[thecompletebookworm]

Rumbelle Showdown 2018

So the Rumbelle Showdown is officially over.  And somehow my favorite event of the year got even better.   All of the writers were incredibly talented and frankly I'm still in a state of shock that I made it to the final round.  Scratch that TIED in the final round before ultimately coming up short.  

I didn't even think I was going to compete this year.  In the three years prior that I've competed, I've never made it past the second round.   Last year I didn't really officially reveal myself because I was convinced I was an awful writer. And with my health scare over the course of the last year, I wasn't expecting much; my only goal was to make it past the second round.  Everything else was the cherry on top, living on borrowed time so to speak (and boy did I enjoy that extra time.)    

I've posted all of this year's stories in an AO3 series (which also includes less fluffy gifts from Showdowns past.)  It's funny looking at them all in one place, because apparently under pressure I write lots and lots of children in my fic (Bae, Gideon, Henry, unnamed baby.)  

Round 1 vs.  the incredible witchy/ @winterswanderlust who had me so convinced that I had lost that I didn't even remember to check results right away.   

Basically Season 1 AU where Gold finds Belle in the Asylum.  

Round 2 vs.  the oh-so-clever Nicole Ireland/ @smartgirlsaremean who managed to break my heart over our lovable idiots seeing things differently.  

Gideon and Belle have a surprise for Rumplestiltskin.  Pregnancy announcement fic.  

Round 3 vs. the hilarious Metal Fish/ @barpurplewrites who made me laugh so hard over their awkward zoo related flirting and the most adorable wingman in the form of Bae. 

Sick fic, where a trip to the zoo is forgone for a little pampering

Round 4 vs.  the deserving Champion Deshelved/ @elanorjane who over the course of the rounds crafted one of the best Woven Lace stories I've ever seen with a generous side of Gideon (which is always appreciated).  

In which I was  particularly proud of incorporating both meanings of the prompt Bae and also squeezing some Papafire in.  

Final Round w/  @elanorjane and the marvelous Bouquet/ @little-inkstone who's work I always admired and killed it with some adorable comforting and tentsharing.  

Henry and Belle plan a family camping trip.  

[ifishouldvanish]

Home Again (1/?)

Belle left Storybrooke to travel the world- leaving her childhood friend, Adam Gold, behind. Years later, she returns to her hometown to see him again.

Prompts: chariot; snowy day; childhood friends become lovers Rating: T (for implied past abuse and implied sexy times) Words: 1,495 A/N: This work was previously posted as part of the 2018 Rumbelle Showdown event, under the pseudonym Your Favorite Cryptid. To everyone who voted for my work- thank you so much! It was my first time participating, and I was thrilled to make it as far as the third round! <3

[Read on AO3]

It was as good a time to come home as any.

Tired. Bored. Enlightened. Fulfilled. Ready to settle down.

All fleeting justifications she’d tried on only to take off a month, a week, a day– hours later, in favor of slipping into the only thing that truly fit: She missed him.

A soft blanket of snow covered the small town of Storybrooke, and for the first time in a long time, it actually felt like home. The glowing streetlamps all donned their flags and garlands, wishing her a happy holiday as she drove up Main Street in her rental car. The Winter Festival would be in full swing tomorrow afternoon, and Belle started to question her timing again.

Years ago, she and Adam would spend each night of the festival holed up in the library– away from the noisy and drunken celebration happening in the streets outside. Away from his thoroughly imbibed father.

They’d talk about the future. Their hopes and dreams.

Her own had been lofty. Traveling the world. Studying at prestigious universities. Experiencing everything life had to offer. And she had done those things. Or most of them, at least. But Adam’s were never quite so simple. For his father to stop drinking. For his mother to get off the painkillers. For the comfort of knowing what to expect of both of them when he came home each night.

She’d offered to take him with her.

“I can’t.” he’d said, and she hadn’t pushed, and she regret it every day.

She held her breath as she drove by his father’s storefront, furrowing her brows when she noticed it had changed.

What if he was gone?

Moved to another town to get away?

Or worse?

A smile crept across her face however, once she got close enough to read the new signage. No longer Malcolm's Pawn and Loan, but rather Mr Gold - Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer.

Belle chuckled at the name. Mr Gold. It sounded so different, so unlike her Adam. The boy she left behind, now become a man. And as she continued toward the old Inn, Belle began to tremble with all the joy in her heart that it was surely far too quiet, far too late at night, to express out loud.

She was going to see him again.

*****

Belle tugged her coat more tightly around herself, her eyes fixed on the door of the shop across the street. The falling snowflakes, being violently yet silently whipped through the air by the cold winds, gave her the strange feeling that she'd be blown away herself the moment she stepped off the curb and toward the pawnshop.

A horse-drawn carriage passed by, and her nose wrinkled at the smell. She’d ridden in one a few times as a girl with her father, and the sudden desire to ride in one again took her– but papa was gone. Taking a deep breath, she stepped off the curb and crossed the street.

She peered through the shop’s window hoping to get a glimpse of him, and as her eyes focused on the small man hunched over the counter, her heart began to race. His brows were creased with focus as he scribbled into a notebook. His hair still swept his shoulders, and Belle couldn’t help feeling a silly bit of relief for it. She’d always found him handsome in his way.

A smile bloomed across her face. The sort that had eluded her all those years no matter where she sought it– be it in Paris, Amsterdam, Madrid, Edinburgh, Tokyo. Before she could stop herself, Belle was trying for the door despite the CLOSED sign hanging in its window.

It opened.

Adam lifted his head out from his work and looked up at her, his features wrought with confusion. But then the corner of his mouth tugged upwards into one of his lopsided smiles, and Belle felt weightless.

“...Belle?” he asked. “Belle–” this time scoffed, in disbelief. “Is that–?”

She nodded and hurried toward the counter with outstretched arms, moving as quickly as her feet would carry her.

He rounded the counter to meet her halfway. “Belle,” he said it again, and he threw his arms around her.

She clutched onto him tightly and breathed in the scent of him. It was different– an unfamiliar cologne filling her senses– but it was him and may as well have been the same blend of a scared boy’s unwashed clothes, mother’s cigarettes, and father’s whiskey, that she remembered.

“You came back.” he said, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

A sniffle escaped her, and she squeezed him even tighter. “Adam.”

His hand rubbed her back, instantly soothing away the restlessness that had settled into her bones over the years. He pulled away slowly then, looking her over, and she could see him noticing all the ways she’d changed and all the ways she’d stayed the same.

“I… never thought I’d see you again.” he finally said, only now his voice rang more of hurt than it did surprise.

“I was always going to come back.” Belle mumbled in her defense, taking a step back and wrapping her arms around herself guiltily.

The shop fell silent, and she studied the shelves of trinkets, the framed paintings, the things that all belonged to this man in front of her. This Mr Gold.

“How…” she trailed off, not sure of whether or not she should ask.

But he'd always had a way of reading her mind.

“He died.” he said, and the emptiness in his voice made Belle’s heart ache for him. How alone he was. How alone he always had been. “Choked on his own vomit six years ago.”

It was tempting to say, “I’m sorry,” but it didn’t seem appropriate, given everything she knew of that relationship. “I… see.” she managed.

“And my mother– she ah…” he cut himself off and swallowed hard, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Overdosed.” he finished quietly.

The ache in Belle’s heart grew worse, sharpening into a fine point at the realization that his hopes and dreams had never come true.

“Adam…” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else. He made that face though– the one that told her he didn’t want her pity– and so she shook her head and took another step back.

He cleared his throat. “The… the festival’s on, you know. And I never did get to ride in one of those carriages.” he chuckled, gesturing out the window with a nod. "Perhaps we could–?”

Belle nodded and smiled. “I’d like that.”

*****

Stories of all the places she'd been, things she'd seen, and people she'd met poured out of her as the carriage toted them down Main Street and through the town square. Each childhood landmark they passed cued another tale of “remember when,” and all the smiles, laughter, and warm feelings that came with it. There was Granny's diner, the ice cream parlor, the pharmacy, the mines beyond the town's outskirts.

Belle rest her head on his shoulder with a content sigh. She'd told Adam every story she had, and he'd listened eagerly to each and every one. Eventually his hand found hers, or perhaps it was hers that had found his– the details hardly seemed important because it felt so warm and so good and so right, as did the kiss that followed shortly thereafter.

The carriage dropped them off at the old house; His inheritance that he’d always been so loathe to call home, for it was haunted by so many ghosts. But the ghosts must have taken an evening carriage ride through the snow themselves– because Belle couldn't see nor hear any of them during the brief trip up the stairs, down the hall, and into the master bedroom.

Words became obsolete as everything fell into place then– replaced by caressing hands, brushing lips, and mounting, blissful gasps. Home wasn't Storybrooke, Belle decided as they finally nestled under the covers together. It was him.

Their bodies were dewy with sweat, and the moonlight coming through the window made their skin glow. Belle smiled inwardly; he used to joke that she'd grow tired of traveling the world one day and go to the Moon instead.

“Where will you go next?” Adam asked, breaking the silence. Reading her mind again.

“I don't know.” She swept the hair out of his face and smiled. “But you should come with me.”

“I can’t.” he said, and she couldn't help being hurt by the fact that he said it just as quickly and thoughtlessly as he had all those years ago.

Belle narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, then rest her head on his chest. “Why not? There’s nothing here for you, Adam.”

He wet his lips and sighed. “Yes, there is.”

She knit her brows together. “Like what? ...The shop?”

He hesitated. Closed his eyes, pressed his lips together, and let out another sigh.

“I have a son, Belle.”

A/N: I'll be posting the next two parts of this story a few days apart, and I DO plan on wrapping it up with another chapter or two. :)

[barpurplewrites]

Rumbelle Showdown 2018

Time to claim my fics. I am blown away by the sheer f*cking talent in this fandom. Just ... Wow! I am awed and stunned to be part of such an amazing group of writers, and the fact I survived THREE rounds with this bloody awesome bunch of writers, you are all amazing and I’m squeeing so much right now I canne form a real sentence.

I love every single one of you who read and voted.

So as @rumbelleshowdown has revealed I was Metal Fish and here are the fics I wrote

Flirting with the Detective (AO3)

A Kiss to Hold (AO3)

Love Bug (AO3)

[ao3feed-rumbelle]

Inquisitive

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2sqUpIa

by WorryinglyInnocent

My first round entry for the 2018 rumbelle showdown under the pseudonym Agnes. The prompts were: broken mason jars; train; fog

Belle has a new pet in the Dark Castle, and she's causing a bit of trouble in Rumpel's workroom...

Words: 1144, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Additional Tags: enchanted forest, Dark Castle, Rumbelle Showdown, rumbelle showdown reveal, Fluff, Kittens

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2sqUpIa

[rumbelleshowdown]

A Message from Deshelved

Wow. THANK YOU everyone! I was just scrolling through my Tumblr feed and I saw FrenchyFry’s message and I literally thought, “Why would FrenchyFry be congratULATINGMEOMG!” 

The biggest THANK YOU goes to @mariequitecontrarie for running The Rumbelle Prompt Showdown That Refused To End! How you kept on top of all of it for so long is beyond me. The depths of my gratitude to you. Congratulations to Tilly and Bouquet, my fellow winners (cuz we all totally won)! Thank you to every single person who sent in prompts, read, liked, shared, and voted, not just for me but for all the stories. 

 And thank you @beastlycheese for beta-ing all my submissions and being a wonderful human being. Even when I sent them to you with less than 24 hours til they were due :) Showdown Authors, I loved reading every single round entry. I cannot wait to kill hours and hours of work time tracking down all of your other stories (and continuations of the ones you started here) when our identities are revealed. 

At the risk of sounding schmaltzy, fanfic has saved me multiple times throughout my life. Being a part of this Showdown and writing these stories and reading all of yours was one of them. I love being a part of the Rumbelle community. With OUAT ending this week, I feel like it’s the end of senior year and this is us passing around our yearbooks before some of us inevitably decide to attend other fandoms and we lose touch. I love you Rumbelle community. Remember that time with the teacup? Never change.

-- Deshelved 

[imgilmoregirl]

Brought Together by Snow

AO3 Link

Summary: Rumplestiltskin and Belle are childhood friend who haven't seen each other in a while, but have mutuals feelings that need to be speak up.

Prompt:  Chariot, snowy day, childhood friends become lovers.

Notes: I think you probably already read this silly tale I wrote for the showdown, but here it is if you haven't. It's my last posted fic before the finale. Whoa, thanks Once for the incredible ride.

This fic was revised by the lovely beastlycheese.

Belle wasn’t used to travelling alone. Her father was a rich man, who was constantly away buying and selling things, so whenever she left their house, Belle was in his company, but not today. She had gone to a place called Arendelle to visit a cousin who had been ill. She for her father to come back home before taking the road, knowing he wouldn’t arrive anytime soon. Now she was stuck, waiting outside of the broken chariot as Philip, their butler tried to fix the wheel.

Using that old thing wasn’t her first choice, of course, but was her only option, as Maurice had taken their beautiful and comfortable carriage with him, leaving her with no other way of travelling but taking the cart. Philip had warned her about it before they left, but she hadn’t paid any attention to what he had said and, after they made it to her cousin’s house and were half-way back to Avonlea, she thought herself lucky enough to arrive home without any incident. That was when the wheel broke.

Shivering with cold, Belle pulled the burgundy hood of her heavy cloak over her head, covering herself a bit from the snow falling insistently from the sky, but it didn’t really help a lot. It was freezing out there and she was already trembling inside her winter gown. The young lady sighed, pulling he cloak closer in an attempt to warm herself and then turned around when she heard the unmistakable sound of a horse trotting near by.

She looked up, paying attention to the road, when she saw him stopping by the cart and sliding down his horse. The man pulled down his own hood, gaze fixed on Philip before he trailed his eyes to where she was and a big smile stretched his lips at the same time it did hers. Belle ran into his direction, throwing her arms around his neck with a happy squeal.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, that's exactly what I was going to ask you," Rumplestiltskin answered pulling her down to the floor. "Where is your father?"

Rumple was one of Avonlea's most influent men. His father, Malcolm, had already amassed a big fortune before he was born but he had not just inherited everything when Malcolm passed away, he had excelled at running the family’ woollen business. He used to live near Belle's house in the village and the two of them had played together ever since they were children and they had grown up being good friends, until he had to move to a distant kingdom in order to marry a woman named Milah and to expand his horizons.

"Away for some business," she answered, tracing the lines of his arms and marvelling at how much he seemed to have grown handsome since the last time she saw him. "I went to Arendelle to visit a cousin, but this stupid cart broke."

Looking back at it, Rumplestiltskin nodded. He was dressed in a dark grey outfit which matched his black cloak to perfection. Usually he wore lighter colours, like gold - his favourite one - but today in this attire he managed to look even more beautiful. Belle had always had a crush on him, and she thought it was no secret to anybody, but he had never commented on that, maybe because both of them were betrothed to someone else. Well, at least she was until a while ago, before Sir. Gaston was killed during the last Ogre's Wars.

"Don't worry about that then, I can take you home and send someone to help Philip with that wheel."

"Really?" Belle blinked. "Thank you, Rumple!"

"You're welcome," he said, slowly, his smile getting bigger just to see how excited she appeared to be with this simple offer. Rumple looked at the servant who was still sat in the snow, trying to fix the broken wheel. "Will you be alright here for some hours, Philip? I shall send one of my workers to meet you."

He waved his head positively, only seeming to be happy for his lady to have some help, so she wouldn't remain there too, freezing.

"I'll be fine, my lord."

He nodded and offered the girl his hand.

"Come on, Belle."

She took it and followed him to the horse, accepting his help to climb up. Then, when both of them already above it, she embraced his waist with her arms, hiding her face against the fabric of his cloak to protect it from the cold wind. Happily relishing that she would be home soon, and by the best way possible.

When they arrived at her house, Belle slid off the horse and lead Rumple to the stables, where he could leave the tired animal for a while, so it could have some rest.

"Thank you for the ride," she said, sincerely. "May I offer you some wine? My father has some good bottles in here."

"I would love that."

She opened the front door, took off her cloak, hanging it on a small hook by the entryway, before making her way to the kitchen and getting a bottle of her father's best wine, serving two cups and bringing them to the hall, were Rumplestiltskin was waiting for her, staring at the shelves covered with her beloved books.

"So, how is life treating you?" Belle asked, handing him a cup. "Still engaged with that lady, Milah?"

"No," he shook his head. "I think she preferred someone betterlooking."

There was bitter bit of self-loathing in the tone of his voice and just like this Belle knew he believed his own words and they were way more than just a quip for him. She hated that Rumple felt like this, because years ago, when they were just kids, most of their friends already said bad things about his appearance, but she never agreed with any word they pronounced.

"She is a fool then, because you're handsome."

A little smirk crossed his lips as he took a seat on her favourite reading chaise.

"I've missed talking to you. I wish I could come over more often, but I do have some business on my own."

She nodded in agreement. Belle didn't know if it was the wine she was drinking that gave her the courage, but she walked towards him, sliding to his side and leaving her cup aside so she could trace her fingers along his jawline.

"You know, Rumple, I've always wondered why our fathers never thought about matching us," she said in what seemed to be only a whisper. "It would have been a better choice, wouldn't it?"

"Certainly, sweetheart."

Belle inhaled deeply, the word making her heart flip. She loved when he called her that, because it made her feel special. A smile had spread on her lips and she allowed herself to lean a little bit closer, enough so she could feel his warm breath on her face. Her hands were shaking and the fact she hadn't seen him for such a long time made her feelings stronger. She had restrained those feelings inside her before, when she was fated to marry Gaston, she wouldn't dare do anything, but now that she was alone again... She had a chance - probably the only one - to decide her own fate and be happy.

"So, thinking about me as your wife isn't a displeasing thing?"

"Oh, the contrary," Rumplestiltskin replied.

And, in the next second, his lips were on hers, pressing ever so gently that it took her breath away. Belle's hands came up to his hair, caressing his scalp as she opened her mouth to allow his tongue to stroke hers, making her moan. When she pulled away, Belle saw his eyes were shinning with something she had never seen before, some kind of adoration that made her blush from head to toe.

"Have I ever said how much I love you?"

"I don't think so," she murmured.

As an answer, he pulled her back against him, whispering a thousand times between kisses that he wanted her to marry him and be his forever. Belle agreed. She said she would never belong to anyone else as long as he was alive and even after he was gone.

They got lost in each other for a long, long time and it was only when they heard somebody calling from outside the property that both Rumple and Belle became aware of the time that had passed.

"Lady Belle?"

"Damn it," Rumplestiltskin cursed. "We forgot about Philip!"

[elanorjane]

2019 TEAs - For Your Consideration

This feels awkward as hell, but I know I find find fics I wouldn't otherwise have read through these posts, so what the heck. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND ANYONE WHO WRITES RUMBELLE FIC TO MAKE A SIMILAR POST - LET US FIND AND READ YOU! <3

I actually just started writing Rumbelle fic this year, beginning with the 2018 Rumbelle Prompt Showdown, so I’m actually a Newbie and anything I've written is up for grabs. Below is a list of everything I’ve written this year and categories that may apply to some of them (in bold italics). But feel free to nominate any of these for anything! 

[All titles should be linked]

Alias Series - Winner of the 2018 Rumbelle Prompt Showdown (Cursed Hyperion Height Woven Lace) [With expansion chapters]  Best Series.    His Favorite Criminal (Round 1) His Favorite Woman (1a) Minor Charges (Round 2) Community Stakeholders (2a) We Could Be Heroes (Round 3) Wake Up Call (Round 4)   Family Resources (Round 5)  

Love on Ice Series (Rumbelle ice skating AU) Best Series

Love on Ice Monthly Rumbelle (Non-smut) Not Right For Anybody Else First Positions What Was the Last Book You Read? Monthly Rumbelle (Smut) Silver Buttons All Down Her Back  Monthly Rumbelle (Non-smut) A Little Flip Naked Male Insecurity Foreplay Drinking Do’s and Don’ts 

Teacup Redux (OUAT rewrite with Rumbelle as main pairing and Gideon in Henry role)  Picture of Beauty (Photographer!Gold & Model!Belle AU, based on Funny Face)  Best Movie AU A Princess in Theory (Princess!Belle & Political Adviser!Gold AU)  Best First Meeting California Soulmates (Pop Princess!Belle & Washed Up Musician!Gold) *COMPLETE*  Rumbelle Christmas in July, Best Travel, Best AU!Gold/Rumple, Best AU Belle    

No Rest for the Wicked (Assassin!Gold & Librarian!Belle)  Best Storybrooke, Best Comedy Fic, Best AU!Gold/Rumple, Best AU

Vigilante Rose (Woven Beauty)    Best Woven Beauty, Best Detective Weaver, Best AU Belle,  Best First Meeting  

I’m also applicable for the Newbie Spotlight and Best New Author.

Thanks for reading, now go make your own For Your Consideration post!!! <3

[jackabelle73]

The bonus question and number 1, 8 and 11

1. Do you have a word-count goal for 2018? 

I’d love to hit 100K in one year. In 2017 I posted just under 82K words of new fic. I was hoping to exceed that in 2018, but fell short. Even after adding a couple things to my spreadsheet that I’d forgotten to record, I’m only at 61K. I may add a few thousand more in the last days of 2018, but it won’t add up to more than last year. These are only the words that I’ve posted, not that I’ve written, because I’ve never been very good at keeping track of all the little random bits of writing that happen on the way to a finished product. 

8. Is there a story idea in your mental vault that you’ve never been brave enough to try writing? Is 2018 the year?

I hate to admit this, but my answer’s the same as last year. I was hoping to write that idea in 2018, but got distracted by other ideas, had a pretty long writing slump in the middle of 2018, and tbh, still intimidated by this Rumbelle/Rumpled Lace idea I have. 

11. Would you like to try any new fanfic genres or tropes in 2018?

Hmm... I think I have enough on my plate at the moment, in the form of WIPs that I’ve already started posting and those stories that I’ve written a substantial amount for but not posted yet, and ideas that I haven’t even started, that I don’t need to attempt new genres. My writing brain is already about to implode, thank you very much. ;-)

BONUS QUESTION FOR DECEMBER 2018 — if you answered questions from this list last year, find your answers and compare your 2018 goals to your results. How’d you do?

Looking back at my answers to this ask meme from last year, I feel like so many of my answers are still the same this year. So in that sense, I feel like I haven’t made much progress. But I did post 61K words of new fic, and I completed the 50K challenge of NaNoWriMo for the first time after several attempts. (Didn’t write the entire 50K for one story, but I wrote 50K total in November.)  I participated in the Rumbelle Showdown at the beginning of the year and made it to Round Four, which I was really proud of. So I guess in summary, I did some good work in 2018, and I still have a lot of room for improvement. 

Thanks for sending the ask! 

FANFIC ASKS FOR THE NEW YEAR

[emospritelet]

Guys...

Please vote for the Rumbelle Showdown fics! There's some awesome stuff there!

[mariequitecontrarie]

A Word about Rumbelle Showdown

Followers and friends, I’m going to be running the 2018 Rumbelle Showdown over the next few months, so you’re going to see a lot of reblogs from me on the subject. I hope you will support the event by participating, sharing, reading the participants’ fic, and voting.

However, if you don’t want to see fic from the event or are bored with my signal boost-y shop talk, I completely understand. Just block the tag “Rumbelle Showdown 2018.″ I will be using that tag in every reblog from the Showdown Blog. 

[rumbelleshowdown]

RUMBELLE SHOWDOWN WINNER!!!

Hello all! Thank you for your patience and I am sorry for the delay! The results have been tallied and despite so many of you rallying to get votes in at the last minute, we STILL had a tie in the end. Our finalists were simply THAT good. So I went ahead and added up all the votes for all the rounds, as was suggested, to determine a winner. Without further explanation and ado....

THE WINNER OF THE RUMBELLE SHOWDOWN IS

DESHELVED

Please take the opportunity to congratulate Deshelved and our other two finalists, Tilly and Bouquet! Every single one of you is amazing, and the closeness of the voting attests to it!