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mozart-the-meerkitten · 2 years

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Time for another obscure character comparison post! This time through excerpts from each story.

Connecting thread: a sad, traumatized man who just wants to go home to his family and thinks he’s a coward but is just out there doing insanely brave things like rescuing girls from crazy people who are trying to kill them.

Suddenly, Slarb’s growl was cut short. Trembling, Leeli opened her eyes and saw the Fang’s claws clutching desperately at an arm locked tight around his throat. She couldn’t see the person’s face, only a tuft of white hair sticking up from behind Slarb’s shoulder- but the arm around Slarb’s throat had a dirty knitted sock pulled up to the elbow. Slarb’s black eyes wheeled in their sockets as he scratched and dug into the socked arm, but it did no good. The arm held firm. Slarb staggered backward and turned away from Leeli, revealing lanky Peet the Sock Man, who was either brave enough or foolish enough (and maybe both) to attack a Fang barehanded, or sock-handed, as it turned out. Peet’s eyes were squeezed shut as he hung on desperately to the thrashing Fang. Slarb’s teeth were bared and oozing with yellowish venom, but his movements were slowing down. Leeli began to hope that just maybe she would live to see her family and Nugget again. Peet was grunting, straining to keep his grip on the twisting beast; though blood was soaking the sock where Slarb’s claws were digging into Peet’s forearm, he showed no sign of pain. Slarb spun around, so fast that Peet’s feet flew out behind him. The Fang lurched this way and that, his tail whipping the underbrush. Finally he fell first to one knee and then to the ground, unconscious. Peet lay on top of Slarb, gasping for air. After a moment, he loosened his grip and carefully slid his arm out from under the creature’s neck. When Peet saw Leeli, he relaxed and stood up, brushing himself off as if embarrassed Leeli was still crouched down in the brush at the edge of the trees, looking warily at her rescuer. “Thank you,” she said timidly. “That was very brave.”

-The Wingfeather Saga book one: On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness by Andrew Peterson (tv show based on the book coming December 2nd!)

“Well how about it?” inquired Dustfinger, taking a step back. “Do you dare come in here with me, or would you rather go on hitting little girls?” Basta stood there motionless, like a child whose ears have been suddenly and unexpectedly boxed. Then he seized Meggie’s arm and dragged her toward him. She felt something cold on her throat. She didn’t have to see it to know what it was. Her mother screamed and pulled at Dustfinger’s hand but he only held it higher in the air. “I knew it!” he said. “What a coward you are, Basta! You’d rather put a knife to a child’s throat than venture in here. Of course if Flatnose were here to back you up, too, with his broad back and his great fat fists- but he isn’t. Come along, you’re the one with the knife! I’ve got nothing but my hands, and you know how I hate to misuse them for fighting.” Meggie felt Basta’s grip relax. The blade was no longer pressing into her skin. She swallowed and put a hand to her throat. She almost expected to feel warm blood, but there was none. Basta pushed her away so hard that she stumbled and fell on the damp, cold floor. Then he put his hand into his pants pocket and brought out a bunch of keys. He was panting with rage like a man who had run too far and too fast. Fingers trembling, he put the key into the lock of the cell. Dustfinger watched him, his face impassive. He gestured to Meggie’s mother to step back from the grating and retreated himself, nimble as a dancer. You couldn’t tell from his scarred face whether he was afraid or not, but the scars looked darker than usual. “What’s that for?” he said, when Basta came into the cell and held out his knife. “You might as well put it away. If you kill me you’ll spoil Capricorn’s fun. He won’t forgive you for that in a hurry.” Yes he was afraid. Meggie could hear it in his voice. The words were spilling out of his mouth a little too fast. “Who said anything about killing?” growled Basta as he closed the cell door behind him. Dustfinger retreated as far as the stone coffin. “Am you were thinking of adding a few more decorations to my face?” he was almost whispering. There was something else in his voice now- hatred, scorn, rage. “Don’t expect it to be so easy this time,” he said softly. “I’ve learned a few useful tricks since then.”

…

“I’ll cut your filthy fingers off if you try to touch me!” yelled Basta, his face red with rage. “Every one of them, and your tongue into the bargain.” He lunged with the knife again, cutting through the air with the bright blade, but Dustfinger avoided it. He was leaping around Basta faster and faster, ducking, retreating, advancing, but suddenly he found that his fearless dance had trapped him. He had only the bare wall behind him now, and the grating cutting off his retreat to the right- and Basta was coming straight at him. At that moment Meggie’s mother raised her hand. The stone hit Basta on the head. Astonished, he spun around, looked at her as if trying to remember who she was, and put his hand to his bleeding face. She never knew how Dustfinger did it, but suddenly he had Basta’s knife in his hand. Basta was staring at its familiar blade in amazement, as if he couldn’t grasp the fact that the faithless thing was pointing at his own chest.

-Inkheart, by Cornelia Funke

Tillman had knocked the white ironstone bowl off his tray, shattering it on the tile next to him. “I told you!” he yelled, swinging his feet off the bed, and kicked at the shards to make room to stand. “I said they were here!”

Belle wasn’t sure whether the bowl being sent to the floor was purposeful or an accident, but it had to be cleared up either way, before he cut his feet on it. “Stay right where you are,” she said. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t take orders from your kind,” Tillman said, fixing her with that severe look again.

Turning back to Captain Gold, she sighed, giving him a smile. “I’ll be right back - I’m going to clean up before he and Gardner can start something over it.”

Belle took the tray from the end of the bed and sat it on the floor so that she could place the broken pieces on it. Tillman squatted down next to her, apparently having snapped out of it and deciding to help. “Thank you,” she said. “Be careful, don’t cut yourself.” At least ironstone didn’t shatter to virtual sand as some china did. She concentrated on picking up the small fragments he’d scattered, and he reached for a larger piece.

Before she knew it, he’d hauled her to her feet, holding her against him with an arm wrapped in an iron grip around her chest and upper arms, pressing the point of the ironstone shard to her neck.

Belle pulled at his forearm on instinct. “Lieutenant Tillman!” she cried, and she heard running footsteps. “Lieutenant Tillman, it’s all right, it’s Nurse French! You know me!”

“I know damn well what you are, and you’re no nurse,” he snarled near her ear.

Rummond’s heart pounded so hard against his ribs that his breastbone ached. He’d been watching Belle; it was difficult to take his eyes off of her. Tillman moved so fast, though, he hadn’t even time to get a word out before she’d been grabbed up in a hostage hold.

He knew he couldn’t have gotten across the aisle quickly enough, but as soon as Tillman turned and Rummond was out of the Lieutenant’s line of sight, he slipped from the far side of his bunk and crossed to the other side of the ward, where he could move more quickly without being seen.

“Crazy bugger thinks she’s a German,” Lieutenant Booth snorted as his bunkmate snuck away.

Belle vaguely knew as more and more people gathered. Other nurses and orderlies dared get closest, their voices muddled as they all tried to talk to Tillman, each thinking they could talk sense into him. Her ears hummed and she felt lightheaded and too hot, and she knew it was adrenaline, but that didn’t help to clear her whirling thoughts. She had been in dangerous situations since becoming a nurse, but this was the first to threaten her so directly, and terror grew in the pit of her stomach.

“Lieutenant Michael Tillman! Let her go!” Dr. Whale barked above the other voices, and Belle zeroed in on him. Dr. Hopper stood next to him, face blanched, and Ruby stood on the other side. Graham stood beside Dr. Hopper, his hands raised, and Belle couldn’t hear what he said over everyone else, but he looked frightened. Well, at least she wasn’t overreacting to her situation, then.

Some of the patients were hovering at mid-range, most keeping a few feet back from the staff, and she saw worry in their faces, as well. Dr. Glass watched from the ward doors with an almost neutral expression. She didn’t see Captain Gold, though. She should have been able to see him on his bed when she shifted her eyes that way, but he was gone. If she could only see him, see the look on his face, she thought she might be better able to gauge just what kind of trouble she was in. She felt as if his face would give her the truth.

Jefferson whispered, “What are you doing?” as Rummond passed. Rummond swatted a hand in his direction, giving him a look sharp enough to quiet him immediately in return for the question.

He crept between the beds at the far end of the room and made himself as small and low as he could as he moved back up the other aisle. Less than half the length of the room away. He slowed himself to silence the pat of his bare footsteps.

“No one would believe me! And look where we are now!” Tillman ranted, shaking her.

“Lieutenant,” Belle said, praying she could calm him long enough for his delusion to break, or for something to stop him. “I know it feels real, but I promise you-”

“Shut up!” he snapped, shaking her again.

Belle clenched her eyes shut, feeling the piece of ironstone move on her skin. When she opened them again, Tillman had turned enough that she caught movement in the reflection of the window beside his bed. She saw just enough to tell her who it was. Captain Gold.

She could have sobbed, though whether in relief that someone was making an effort to do something or in fear for him, she couldn’t be sure. Tillman was easily fifty pounds heavier than Captain Gold, and if he turned the shard on the other man…

“It’s all right,” she continued, hoping to distract Lieutenant Tillman and keep him from noticing the reflection. It was right in front of him - he only needed to look that way to see. “If you’ll just let me go, we can finish cleaning up the bowl, and perhaps you can talk with Dr. Hopper? I’m sure he-”

“Shut your mouth!” he yelled right behind her ear, digging the shard harder against her neck, and she choked back a cry when she felt the sharp point puncture her skin.

Tillman stood against the side of his bunk, and Rummond could see there was no way to get between. He would have to go over top, and that would mean a very narrow moment during which he could do anything before Tillman knew he was there.

His lungs burned when he held his breath to cut off that sound, as well, and he stepped between Tillman’s bed and the one to the left of it. With his knees at the edge of the mattress, he leaned, putting all of his weight on his good foot, and lunged. He had his hands on Tillman before the springs squeaked, wrenching the hand holding the piece of broken ironstone to force it as far away from Nurse French’s skin as he could.

Belle felt herself yanked backward, and for a second she feared Tillman had done it, slit her throat. But then she heard, “Drop it, boy. Drop the weapon,” in a low voice, somehow dispassionate and chilling at once, almost as near her ear as it was to Tillman’s, and it made her skin crawl. It took a very long beat of her heart to recognize that Captain Gold had gotten to them.

Rummond snaked his hand in behind Tillman’s arm across Nurse French’s chest, wrapping his hand around the Lieutenant’s wrist from the inside with a vice grip. With a sudden push stronger than the pulling hold Tillman had on her, Rummond gave her room to get away, and she took it.

When the grip on her loosened, Belle dropped away, hitting her knees hard enough to bruise, her hands flying to her neck. Graham rushed in to get her, pulling her up and away, and she was surrounded by he, Ruby, and Dr. Hopper as they saw blood and tried to check her. She turned among their hands, trying to see what happened between Captain Gold and Lieutenant Tillman.

Tillman twisted his hand, trying to cut his attacker’s arm, but found himself held at the wrong angle to accomplish it. “I won’t be held prisoner again!” he shouted, fighting. “I’ll kill myself first!”

“Graham, help him!” Belle pled, pushing his hand away from her neck and urging him toward the patients who were still the center of spectation.

The adrenaline in Rummond’s system was waning, and he wasn’t strong enough to hold onto Tillman without its help. He felt his muscles beginning to tremble. To his relief, Humbert knelt one knee on the mattress and Gardner overshadowed them on the window side, each taking one of the Lieutenant’s arms, and he could let go. He scrambled backward off the bunk, just keeping his footing as he put the piece of furniture between himself and Tillman.

-Better to Face the Bullets by @ishtarelisheba

how did it ever get into their heads that they’re cowards

#the wingfeather saga #inkheart #better to face the bullets #I am hyperfixating HARD on these three right now #peet the sockman #artham wingfeather #dustfinger #rummond gold #this came to me on my drive home from work #all three scenes aligned in my head and I was compelled to get the books and type these up aghajkfsjf #thankfully one is a fanfic and therefore on ao3 #also I think these three boys would get along #they're just sitting in a quiet room talking drinking tea and playing cards or something #meanwhile Idk what they'd be doing but Arendelle Belle and Roxanne would also get along #they're talking about women's rights in their worlds (or a lack thereof) ajhgaksf #nia is also there #ANYWAY #I have been having THOUGHTS

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rumbelleshowdown · 4 years

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Author: panicmoon

Prompt: water on the floor

Group: G

To Remember

“Rum?” Belle called out. Her husband had gone to make them some tea but hadn’t come back up yet. He presumably couldn’t hear her through the thick walls of the library and all the books. He was probably making them a bit of food as well. They hadn’t had lunch yet and it was nearly three o’clock. Both were hungry and it wasn’t like Belle could cook anything more than toast anyways. She let her thoughts drift from the book in her hands. It wasn’t that enticing anyways. It was a dumb bodice ripper that reviews were so horrid that Belle had to check it out for herself. She was pretty sure she and Rum had more fun reading it than most people. Though they weren’t exactly reading it.

Her husband was wonderful. An amazing man, with a kind heart, who had been hurt by many people in his life. When she first met him, he had built up impossibly high walls around him. Hiding behind a snappish and cold mask, desperate not to be hurt again. But she caught a glimpse of the man that was there behind those walls and she just had to meet him. It had taken a while but she finally found him and realized that she’d come to love him along the way.

They quickly became friends after he hired her to help around the pawnshop. She took lunch with him every day and eventually she realized that their relationship consisted of more than just friends or employer and employee. Their first kiss had him scuttering away, his self-loathing rearing its ugly head but she managed to convince him that, Yes Rum, I do actually like you. No, it wasn’t a mistake. Yes, I’d be very happy if you kissed me again. There we go. They got married about a year later and lived in newlywed bliss for a while. In all honestly, even after eight years of marriage, they still hadn’t left the newlywed phase and everything that came with it. They were happy.

She ran the library, helping around the pawnshop every now and then but Henry had taken over her job and Rum was happy to spend time with his grandson. Through him, he got to repair the strained relationship with his son, Neal, and Belle’s family got even bigger. She was sad that her father never saw what she did with Rummond but accepted that they would never see eye to eye. If he wanted to mend that relationship with his daughter then he would have to reach out first.

About six months ago, Rummond had had a heart attack. Two, actually. He flatlined in the hospital and their lives had been shaken completely. He spent three weeks in the hospital before Dr. Whale cleared him. The reason why it had taken so long was that Dr. Whale was very confused about why Rum had a heart attack in the first place. Nonetheless, they had been careful with his health ever since. But it was still a mystery, Rummond was healthy. Even Dr. Whale had said so and none of the tests revealed why he had the attacks. She noticed that Rum had been in pain before the attacks but it had coincided with their anniversary and they both thought it was just his leg acting up because of the extra physical exertion that came with the date.

Her eyes drifted to the antique clock on the wall and her nostalgic and blissful mood dropped. It wasn’t because of the clock. It was a beautiful piece than Rum had repaired a couple of years ago. Belle liked it so much that she convinced her husband to take it home with him instead of selling it. No, it was the time. Rummond had been gone for around thirty minutes. Forgetting the book in her lap, she rushed through the library doors, down the stairs and into the kitchen. She froze at the sight before her.

There lay her husband collapsed on the kitchen tile. She hesitantly stepped forward, one foot after another until she reached him. Her socks were wet, she realized slowly. Her eyes spotted the kettle near his right hand. Presumably, two teacups were shattered around him. He hadn’t even gotten to making the tea. The most worrying fact was that he wasn’t breathing. Belle dropped to her knees, desperately trying to feel for a pulse on his neck. She couldn’t find one. His phone sat on the kitchen counter and Belle grabbed it, desperately calling 911 and explaining the situation to the operator. She shook her husband desperately, trying to get him to wake up. She pulled him onto her lap, into a tight hug. It felt like hours, she sat there, holding him and sobbing. Her pyjama bottoms were wet through but she didn’t care. The water around them felt like his blood. Her husband was dead but he wasn't murdered. What killed him? And where were the paramedics? But something happened that stopped all of Belle’s questions. Her entire train of though slammed to a stop. Rummond shifted. It was an impossibly slight movement but hugging him so tightly, she felt it.

She released him from her tight grasp, looking around desperately, for any signs of movement. Then his eyes opened. They were completely black, like a demon in all those horror movies. Something that looked like scales bloomed all through his face and most the rest of his body. They were a greenish-grey hue that seemed to sparkle with gold. Her eyes flicked back to his. They changed. Now like a lizard’s, a light brown mixed with flakes of gold.

A dark grin spread over his face. Revealing teeth that were rotten brown and completely nasty. She tried to pull away from this monster that used to be her husband but he had turned and gripped her arms tightly. Putting his body weight on her, he flipped them, restaining her hand above her head. She couldn’t get away. The more she squirmed away from him, the closer he got. The smile was nearly splitting apart his face. Then he whispered, “Hello, dearie.”

#rumbelle showdown 2020 #rumbelle fic #Round One entry #author: panicmoon

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uwmspeccoll · 5 years

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It’s Fine Press Friday!

This week we present Journeys in Sunlight, with poems by Dana Gioia and etchings by Fulvio Testa. Printed in an edition of 90 copies by Richard-Gabriel Rummonds on an 1884 Luigi Ghisi Albion handpress for his Ex Ophidia imprint in Cottondale, Alabama in 1986. Rummonds was assisted by Antony O’Hara and Cary Wilkins. The book is signed by the poet and the artist. The type is handset Dante from Harold Berliner’s Type Foundry in Nevada City, California. Richard Brough did the title-page lettering. The paper, printed damp, was handmade at the Cartiere Enrico Magnani in Pescia, Italy. The book was bound by Craig Jensen in a dark brown morocco spine, with boards covered with gray Zerkall Amora mouldmade paper marbled by Paula M. Gourley in olive-brown, dark blue, and umber with gold fleck. It is housed in a drop-spine box covered and lined with medium brown Bamberger Iris cloth and a paper label printed in black with “EX OPHIDIA” and pressmark no. 3.

Richard-Gabriel Rummonds is considered to be one of the finest handpress printers of the late twentieth century. He was born in Long Beach, California in 1931. He founded his Plain Wrapper Press in Quito, Ecuador in 1966 printing Eight Parting Poems, a keepsake for his friends. He later moved the press to Verona, Italy in 1970. Rummonds became well-known for his private-press edition of Seven Saxon Poems by Jorge Luis Borges in 1974. Rummonds printed 38 titles under the Plain Wrapper Press imprint from 1966-1988 (UWM Special Collections holds five). He founded the Ex Ophidia press in the early 1980s when he was appointed the director of the book arts program at the University of Alabama. Rummonds printed four fine press books under the Ex Ophidia imprint, with Journeys in Sunlight being the last. Rummonds switched his focus to authoring books about working with handpresses, such as Printing on the Iron Handpress (1998), Nineteen-Printing Practices and the Iron Handpress (2004), and the memoir Fantasies & Hard Knocks: My Life as a Printer (2015). In 2014, Rummonds started using the imprint Ex Ophidia Press as a fine literary press.

Journeys in Sunlight is another wonderful gift from our friend and benefactor, Jerry Buff.

View more Fine Press Friday posts.

–Sarah, Special Collections Graduate Intern

#Fine Press Fridays #Richard-Gabriel Rummonds #Journeys in Sunlight #Dana Gioia #Fulvio Testa #Ex Ophidia #Paula M. Gourley #Antony O’Hara #Cary Wilkins #Harold Berliner’s Type Foundry #Richard Brough #Cartiere Enrico Magnani #Plain Wrapper Press #Jerry Buff #etchings #Sarah Finn #sarah

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ao3feed-rumbelle · 4 years

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To Remember

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3hVTLK7

by SeraphExodus (BlueBoxesAndDeerStalkers)

Belle and Rummond Gold live a happy and blissful life, even after seven years of marriage. However, two heart attacks Rummond had may be more than just what they seem.

Originally written for the Rumbelle Showdown under the penname panicmoon.

Words: 1082, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle (Once Upon a Time), Victor Frankenstein | Dr. Whale (Briefly Mentioned)

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Additional Tags: Rumbelle Showdown 2020 (Once Upon a Time), Round 1 entry, too soon?, no beta we die like bae

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3hVTLK7

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #rumbelle #Once Upon a Time #ouat #Rumplestiltskin #Belle #Mr. Gold

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bookwormchocaholic · 5 years

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Reason and Romance!Rummond, Bae, Belle & Maurice: What does your ideal family (& its member) look like now?

Wow, I’m stunned to receive an ask about this verse…considering I’ve neglected it since last autumn. Anyway, for those interested, here is a link to Reason and Romance.

Rummond Gold:

My ideal family? I don’t dare ask for more than what I have now. Bae is my whole world; he is my life, there is nothing outside of him. As long as Bae is healthy, happy and safe, and we can stay together, I am content.

(poor woobie doesn’t dare to hope for more.)

Bae:

I would have said for Mama to return to us and for us to be a family again, but seeing Papa happy when he’s around Miss French, changes things. Papa says divorce is scandalous, but he needs to divorce Mama and marry Miss French. And I will do everything in my power to make that happen.

Belle:

Ideally, Rummond and I would be married and I could be a mother to Bae. Rummond and I would have more children too. And we would all live in Avonlea Park or Avonlea Cottage. Either would do, wherever they are more comfortable. But since Rummond is still married, I don’t see that happening any time soon.

Maurice:

I would like to see my little girl married and settled with a good man. I would also like some grandchildren before I die. I’m in frail health and I won’t live forever, I want Belle taken care of. She absolutely refuses to have anything to do with her suitor, Gaston. By the by, can anyone explain to me why she is hovering around my old friend Rummond so much?

(Please disregard the dialogue in the Maurice gif.)

#reason and romance verse #rumbelle fic #sense and sensibility au

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ifishouldvanish · 6 years

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For Your Consideration

This was a weird year in that the only story I really worked on was The Boston Hour, which isn’t eligible this year. So... here goes:

Who Says Dark Ones Don’t Dance? (G)

Terribly, romantic, schmoopy fluff based on a transcription of a travel book page. Belle wants to go dancing at a club, but Rumple’s reluctant to join. At first. Please consider nominating it for ‘Best One-Shot” or “Best ‘Missing Years’ Fic”.

Making A Splash (E)

Boston Hour ‘verse. After he and Belle agree that their relationship is “serious” over the phone, Gold takes a moment to reflect in the bathtub. And by reflect I mean masturbate. Consider nominating for “Smut - Romance”.

If Only for a Moment (E)

My RCIJ fic featuring Belle and Hamish. They tease each other and get it on in the library, with silly results. Consider nominating for “Smut - PWP”, “Rumbelle Christmas In July”, and “Best Anyelle”

Spin Me a Tale (T)

WIP. Silly AU where Belle has a terrible crush on the terribly shy Mr Gold who frequents the library. He’s never spoken a word to her, so has no idea that he’s actually the voice behind her favorite book review podcast. Consider nominating for “Best Comedy Fic” and “Best Belle”

Home Again (T)

Rumbelle Showdown fic, now a WIP. 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. Consider nominating for “Fluff - Reunion” and “Best Woobie!Rumple”

Let’s Spend the Night Together (E)

RSS 2017 fic. Lacey French was managing her crush on her curmudgeonly roommate Nicholas Rush pretty well. That was, until she came home from her shift one cold December evening and found out that the heater had broken. Consider nominating for “Smut - PWP” and “Best Anyem”.

Alterations ‘Verse (M)

The extended ‘verse for my RCIJ 2017 fic, Alterations. Woobie!Gold lives with his cruel mother and has a crush on Belle, who’s engaged to jerkface Gaston. The woobie agrees to do the alterations on her wedding dress and they fall in love.

The original fic is not eligible, but the consider nominating the series for “Best Series” and the other stories for the following:

Finishing Stitch (T): Consider nominating for “Best Trope” (Marriage proposal)

Embellishment (E): Consider nominating for best “Smut - Romance”

Songbird (G): Consider nominating for “Angst - Death”

Pieces of a Quilt (G): Consider nominating for “Fluff - Family”

Magical (G): Consider nominating for “Fluff - Family”

Black Roses (M)

WIP. Golden Lace as villain protagonists. Basically a Sons of Anarchy AU. Lacey’s president of a motorcycle club, and Gold’s the crooked lawyer who helps cover their tracks. Consider nominating for “Best Golden Lace” and “Best TV Show AU”

I Must Be Warmer Now ‘Verse (M)

Extended ‘verse for my RSS 2016 fic. After a messy divorce that costs Rummond Gold what little family he had, he goes to the Rabbit Hole to drown his sorrows in whiskey. Instead, he finds hope in the town's resident barfly, Lacey French.

Consider nominating for “Best Series” and the individual stories for the following:

I Must Be Warmer Now (E) (main fic): Consider nominating for “Best Golden Lace”, “Best Lacey”, and “Best AU Inspired by Other Media” (song)

Nighthawks, Morningbirds (M): Consider nominating for “Fluff - Comfort”, “Best Golden Lace”, and “Best Lacey”

Objects In the Rear View Mirror (T): Consider nominating for “Fluff - Comfort”

So A Lawyer Walks Into a Bar... (E)

Golden Lace smut written for “Rumbelle Order in the Court”. They tease each other and do it over his big fancy lawyer desk. Spanking and anal play. Consider nominating for “Smut - PWP”, “Smut - Kink”, “Best Lacey”, and “Best Golden Lace”.

Receipt In the Bag? (T)

Golden Lace. Everyone in town dreads checking out at the Dark Star Pharmacy when Lacey French is working the register. Well, everyone except Mr Gold. Consider nominating for “Best crack!Fic” and “Best Comedy Fic”.

Rumbelle Ethics (G)

Meta about how Belle and Rumple apply ethics. Consider nominating for “Best Meta”

#the espenson awards #teas 2019 #rumbelle fic

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thefussymeerkat · 7 years

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okay but the worst thing about AU Rumbelle fics is that the name Rumplestiltskin is plain unusable in a real-world setting and Mr. Gold has no first name... so you end up with names like Rummond, or Renold, or.... Rhys. Of all the fanfics I had to choose the one where he was renamed to Rhys!

#rhys is fucking welsh! wrong part of the island!!#once upon a time #rumbelle #rumplestiltskin #fanfiction

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ao3feed-rumbelle · 5 years

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Dogs Are the Magicians of the Universe

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

by ishtarelisheba

Belle and Rummond look to add a furry (and protective) member to the family.

Words: 1016, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 23 of Better to Face the Bullets 'verse

Fandoms: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

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

Relationships: RumBelle, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

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

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #rumbelle #Once Upon a Time #ouat #Rumplestiltskin #Belle #Mr. Gold

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ao3feed-rumbelle · 5 years

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Never Where You Think You Left It

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2yQyY68

by ishtarelisheba

After a pleasant day of driving lessons and flirtation, Belle and Rummond receive a decidedly unpleasant visitor.

Words: 2268, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 22 of Better to Face the Bullets 'verse

Fandoms: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

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

Relationships: RumBelle, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2yQyY68

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bookwormchocaholic · 6 years

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Reason and Romance: Chapter 2

A03

Chapter One

Synopsis: Rummond and Bae Gold must leave their home and begin anew at Avonlea Cottage, on the estate of Sir Maurice French. They hope to live quietly and happily in Devonshire, but when Rummond and Bae are both thwarted in love, they cope in their own distinctive ways. They come to support one another and must pursue their happy endings.

Author Note: A Sense and Sensibility AU of sorts that’s been on my mind for a couple years now. I’m rereading S&S, so I thought I’d give it a try. I hope it honors Austen’s classic. Not beta-ed or properly researched; expect a ton of mistakes.

Belle began to tremble as Sir Maurice softly knocked on the door of Avonlea Cottage. Before, her enthusiasm had consumed her, but now, she was about to come face to face with the man she loved for years. What will he think of me? She pondered, giving her father a sheepish smile. The older man didn’t have an inkling of her feelings. And if he did, he likely wouldn’t understand.

Her grasp on her father’s arm tightened when the door swung open.

Rummond and Bae stood in the doorway and for a moment she forgot how to speak. Her true love was exactly as she remembered him: a little taller than she, soft brown eyes, longish hair which did seem a bit greyer, and thin lips that stretched into an apprehensive smile. The only difference she noticed was the cane he was leaning upon. Poor man. He hurt himself at some point and still suffered from it.

His son changed the most, nearing his father’s height, with a crop of unruly hair. No longer a child, he was not yet a man. Belle never met the mysterious Mrs. Gold, but she couldn’t detect anything but Rummond’s features and characteristics in the young man. Both of the Gold men were much too gaunt in her opinion, but regular meals at Avonlea Park would cure them of that.

“Sir Maurice!” Rummond held out his hand to her father. “I want to thank you-”

“Oh, none of that!” Sir Maurice waved him off and pumped his hand eagerly. “We are old friends and I dare say you would open your home to me if need be. Ah, you remember my daughter, Belle.”

Belle noticed Rummond’s high cheek bones reddening when he looked at her and wondered if his reaction was a good thing or a bad thing. “Mr. Gold,” She greeted and held out her hand for him. “Will you not shake hands with me?”

Rummond nodded, clearly flummoxed. “Of course, my apologies, Miss French.”

He took her hand and gave it a tiny shake, then brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it. A tingle shot through her, one that was unfamiliar, but it excited her. What would those lips feel like on other parts of me? She loved the callouses on his palms and his long tapering fingers. Unlike the gentlemen in the area, he worked his whole life. He had actually done things for himself and been places.

“It is good to see you again.” Rummond released her, much to her dismay. He slid his arm around his son shoulders. “This is my boy, Baeden. He goes by Bae.”

Bae shyly nodded to them.

“Good morning, Bae. Is the cottage suited to your needs?” Belle inquired.

When they received Rummond’s letter, announcing of their acceptance of Sir Maurice’s offer, Belle sent over a couple servants to clean the cottage from top to bottom, as well as stock the pantry and wood supply. Other than that, she didn’t know what they would require to make the cottage feel like a home.

“Yes, you must let us know if you require anything. Where are your servants?” Sir Maurice asked, rising up on his tip toes to peer past the Gold men.

Bae looked confused. “We don’t have any.”

It was only then that Belle realized how worn Rummond and Bae’s clothing were. She had been so caught up in seeing them again, she missed the obvious. The Gold men were clearly impoverished, more than what she and her father suspected. Servants were probably the last thing on their minds.

“Oh. We could send someone down-” Belle suggested.

“That isn’t necessary. We are self-reliant.” Rummond replied quickly.

Belle was about to protest this when she received a nudge in the side from her father. She frowned, but kept her thoughts to herself. Never an easy feat, but she didn’t wish to speak out of turn.

“If you change your mind, let me know.” Sir Maurice declared and swiftly changed the subject. He lifted his and gestured in the direction of Avonlea Park. “I hope you will take meals with us. It is rather lonesome with just the two of us. Often enough, I doze off and my poor Belle is left with no one to talk to. Just come over whenever you wish.”

Belle studied both father and son and sensed they wouldn’t accept the invitation without a little more prompting. They were too polite and retiring for their own good. “I look forward to your company. We have an extensive library and you can borrow however many books you wish.”

“Really?” Bae’s eyes brightened and he genuinely smiled.

“Yes.” Belle longed to take the boy to her library now and show off her books, but knew it would be too presumptuous. Rummond and Bae needed time to settle in and make themselves at home. “Papa isn’t much of a reader, so it would be nice to discuss literature with someone.”

Belle glanced at Rummond and felt her spirits plummeting on observing his skittish expression. She wasn’t sure what she did or said, but she feared she made him uncomfortable. Sometimes I am too impetuous for my own good. Aside from her comment on providing them servants, she couldn’t think of anything else that might have offended him. Perhaps he was simply weary from his travels or from the changes he made, and a good night’s rest would sooth his nerves.

Sir Maurice tugged on her arm and they departed from Avonlea Cottage, however Belle’s mind and heart continued to be full of the sweet man who scarcely said two words to her.

Rummond didn’t feel like he could breathe properly until he closed the cottage’s front door. His fingers twitched, longing to spin his wool. He used to spin to work out his anxieties, unfortunately for him, he hadn’t had a spinning wheel in his possession for years.

He rested his back against the door, still dumbstruck by the ethereal beauty of Belle French. Not even the angels on the stain glass of the cathedrals in Europe could rival her. Her wide, innocent azure eyes, her sweet face framed by her chestnut curls, her infectious smile and her kind-hearted spirit. Those plump lips he would give just about anything to taste and savor.

She was wholly unspoiled.

Rummond’s skin suddenly felt on fire and was itchy. He rubbed the back of his neck. What is wrong with me? His old comrade-in-arms was standing right there while he made eyes at the man’s daughter. It was all he could do to attend to the conversation and not wonder what Belle French’s figure might look like beneath her spencer coat. Stop it, she is a girl. She is your friend’s daughter. Not only that, he was still officially a married man. Milah might be absent, but she was his wife. She might not be faithful to him, but he had to be faithful to her. For Bae’s sake, if not for his own.

“I like them, Papa.” Bae state aloud.

Rummond’s head snapped up and he felt a pang of guilt. He had forgotten that his son had been standing there the whole time and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Bae’s voice.

“Especially Miss French.” Bae added.

Rummond patted his boy on the shoulder. “I’m glad to hear it.” He hobbled from the door, his cane clicking on the hardwood floor. The noise only ceased when he stepped onto the carpet of the sitting room.

The cottage would be considered small by most standards, but in Rummond’s opinion it was perfect. The view from the cottage was majestic and overlooked the sparkling waters. The downs would plentiful and he could take Bae exploring in the afternoons. He surveyed the rooms and while they were pretty bare, in time he and Bae could make it into a home. It needed a little work, which they would not trouble the French’s about, but would take care of on their own. A chimney that smoked, pokey dark stairs, drafts by the windows, peeling wallpaper and chipping paint. They would make their alterations next spring. For the winter, Bae would attend to his studies and repair the defects in his education. As for him, he would purchase a spinning wheel and do some spinning.

The best part about it was they were far from London and Malcolm’s debauchery. This wholesome area would be a good influence on Bae. His boy could see how good, honest people lived and follow their example.

“Could we go to the French’s for supper tonight?” Bae joined him in the sitting room. He lowered his voice, despite the fact they were the only ones in the cottage. “We don’t have any more bread from our trip.”

It was on the tip of Rummond’s tongue to decline, but one glimpse of his son and he faltered. He would willingly go hungry, but he couldn’t allow his son to suffer through those abominable hunger pangs. The memory of those were still fresh in his memory. According to Sir Maurice’s letter, the cottage had not been occupied for a couple of years, therefore he assumed the panty had to be bare. Tomorrow he could go into the village and purchase what they needed, but he was too exhausted now from their journey.

“Yes, but we can’t make a habit of it.” Rummond agreed and racked his brain on what they could wear to a proper supper. They had their Sunday bests, but he knew they would be woefully out of place amongst the French’s finery. “The French’s have been generous to us and we can’t take advantage of that. In the morning, we will shop for what we need.”

“I can fish too!” Bae said. His son’s expression suddenly turned mischievous and if he hadn’t known the boy better, he would have been worried. “I can’t wait to see Miss French’s library. How old is she?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Rummond shrugged, though that wasn’t quite the truth. When he first met Belle, after her mother’s death, she was eighteen. Seven years had passed and that would make her five and twenty. “Why?”

“Well, I wondered why she wasn’t married.” Bae replied.

“That, son, is none of our business.” Rummond held up a finger. “And don’t ask her.”

For a brief moment he feared Bae was smitten with Belle. It would never work. While still youthful, Belle was Bae’s senior by ten years. Not to mention the vast difference in their social classes and fortune.

His fears dissolved when Bae began to prattle on about the library and what kind of books Belle might have. He then decided his boy was merely excited to make a new friend and was inquisitive.

Why isn’t she married? The question cropped up suddenly.

The question entered Rummond’s mind before he could stop it. Certainly, Belle had no shortage of beaux. A girl such a she could have any man her heart desired. All she would have to do was smile and quirk her little finger. How would he make it through supper without fantasizing about her?

Rummond banished the image of Belle quirking her finger at him and mounted the stairs to the second floor. He had to dress for supper.

Bae didn’t dare move too much, out of fear of bumping the table and disturbing the meal. But he couldn’t help but squirm a little in his seat. His Sunday best felt constricting, since it was tight on his ever-growing frame. Never in his whole life had he been inside a mansion as grand as Avonlea Park. The four-story structure loomed far above as he and Papa approached on foot and though Sir Maurice and Belle warmly welcomed them, he felt out of place. Their measly offer of wild flowers felt ridiculous considering fine hot house flowers decorated the various rooms, but Belle’s eyes gleamed when she accepted them.

They scarcely had time to talk before they adjourned to the dining room. He and Papa sat across from one another while Sir Maurice and Belle sat on opposite ends. Bae’s mouth watered when a servant served him venison stew and he would have tucked in if Papa hadn’t caught his attention and pointed to the right spoon to use. He did his best to mimic his father’s eating habits and conversed with Belle while Sir Maurice and Papa talked of old times.

His belly never felt so full and he wondered if the French’s always ate like this or if it was because they were entertaining company.

On finishing his meal, Sir Maurice laid his napkin down and leaned back in his seat. “I drink port after meals, will you drink with me, Gold?”

Papa also laid his napkin aside and seemed unsure of how to answer. “Yes, well, Bae…”

Bae frowned. He loved his father, he loved no one else more in the world, but the man’s entire world revolved around him. Papa didn’t mean to, but Bae often felt smothered.

“I was going to show Bae the library, if that is all right with you, Mr. Gold.” Belle piped up and slyly winked at Bae.

The flustered expression on his father’s face melted away and he seemed to be at ease. “Of course.” His gaze briefly flickered to Belle before he bashfully dropped his head.

Bae chuckled and rolled his eyes. Papa liked Belle. He suspected it when the French’s called at the cottage, but now that he was able to watch them interact, he was convinced. Papa liked Belle and unbeknownst to Papa, Belle liked him too.

Papa and Sir Maurice stood respectfully when Belle rose.

Bae followed Belle out of the dining room and he tried to memorize each and every detail of the rooms he passed through as she led him to the library.

Bae let out a whistle when he entered the library. He had to crane his neck back to be able to take in the whole view of floor to ceiling books shelves, the globes, the ladders. There had to be thousands of books in there! The room smelled dusty, but homey.

“Are all these books yours?” Bae went to the closest shelf and looked at the leather-bound volumes.

“My family collected them for years, but I secretly consider them all mine. Borrow whatever you would like.” Belle took a step closer and softly asked, “How do you like the cottage? If you want to change anything if there need to be improvements, please let us know.”

Bae shook his head. “It is amazing! Our cottage in London wasn’t nearly as big and my grandfather’s apartments were cramped…We didn’t have much privacy.” He gulped, feeling a wave of discomfort.

“Well, I’m glad you like it and I hope you and your papa know you are welcome to visit Avonlea Park anytime you please.” Belle reached out and gave his hand an affectionate squeeze.

After watching how Belle and Sir Maurice treated each other, he now understood that the way his grandfather lived, or even his mother, was not normal. Now that he and Papa were away from Grandfather and mother, he hoped their life could somehow resemble Belle’s and Sir Maurice’s. The peace, the happiness, the hope.

His mother was out there somewhere. At first, he missed her. She was his mother after all, but now after watching how well Belle treated his father and liked Papa, he knew his mother acted wrongly. Now that he thought about it, Bae couldn’t recall being on the receiving end of much affection from his mother. He barely knew Belle, but felt she would make a better mother. Papa didn’t like to speak of his mother or what happened, and Bae didn’t want to hurt his father by prying. Someday he hoped to learn the truth, when the time was right.

As long as he and Papa could be together and be happy, that was all that mattered.

#rumbelle fic #reason and romance verse #historical au #papafire fic

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