"I want my father back you son of a bitch"
Rumpelstiltskin and Peter Pan vs Inigo Montoya and The Six Fingered Man
Both boys lost their fathers and grew up alone; both ended up stabbing the monsters who took their fathers away from them. I gave myself feels.
Aurora made it a point to befriend everyone in her law school class.
It was a very small group doing this particular program - FTL College’s fast-track law program was very selective, and only thirty applicants had made the cut - and so it had not been hard to get to know, one by one, her classmates. She’d learned that Mary Margaret wanted to lecture and that her best friend Emma was hoping to become a DA. She stayed away from Killian Jones and Cora Mills, who both had ‘unscrupulous politician’ written all over them, but she still smiled at them in the hallways.
It was a good idea to be well-liked. It meant that when competition arose it wouldn’t get personal.
The only girl in the class she’d made no headway at all with was a Chinese student, whom Aurora had gathered had never left her homeland until now. She’d made overtures - invited her to sit at lunch, tried to make conversation between classes - but Mulan Fa just looked at her with her dark eyes and gave hard, dismissive answers.
So Aurora put it down to the language barrier - although Mulan’s English was damn near flawless - or perhaps a cultural thing, and moved on.
But as the semester wore on, she could feel Mulan’s eyes on her more and more often. It was hard to give a presentation on the tort of negligence, or to answer a question on the persuasiveness of cases from other jurisdictions, with that unwavering gaze on her. Mulan’s eyes were always narrowed, speculatively: Aurora wondered what the other woman could be thinking behind those deep, dark eyes.
"What is your problem?" she demanded, at last, after a particularly difficult criminal law seminar. "Do I have a zit or something?"
"I don’t know what you mean," Mulan said, and she clearly wasn’t referring to English being her second language.
"I mean with the staring," Aurora snapped. "You’re… you’re always watching me. What’s your problem?"
"I just…" Mulan shook her head, "I don’t understand."
"The seminar work?" Aurora frowned, "I think Professor Blue’s still in there if you want to have a word-"
"No," Mulan shook her head, "The work is okay. I mean you. I don’t understand… you."
"Me?" Aurora frowned, perplexed.
"I don’t understand how you survive here," Mulan shook her head, "Or why. I mean your father is clearly very wealthy… and you’re beautiful and kind. You don’t need this."
"I want this," Aurora said, halfway between gentle and harsh. On the one hand, it was high praise indeed to be called ‘beautiful and kind’. On the other, she was stung by the reference to her relative wealth, and the insinuation that she didn’t belong at FTL. "I have as much right as anyone else."
"I… didn’t mean that," Mulan shook her head, her long hair coming loose from her low ponytail and falling into her face. Aurora had the absurd urge to push it back for her. "I just mean that you stand out. You shine like a star, and I don’t understand why you insist on hiding it here when you could be out there."
Aurora wanted to stay annoyed, truly she did. But the compliment had brought a rush of warmth to her cheeks and a little knot to her throat, and she couldn’t think of what more to say.
"Do you… want to go get a coffee?" she asked, tentatively.
Mulan’s eyes shot to hers, and there was something in there that had been hidden before, something very warm that made Aurora warm too. What in God’s name was happening here?
"Yes," Mulan nodded, tentatively, "I’d… I’d like that."
The black labrador was in poor shape. She was limping, one paw loosely and unprofessionally bandaged, and her owner looked somewhat sheepish as David lifted the dog up onto the table.
"So, what happened here, then?" he made like he was asking the dog, which he’d found usually helped set nervy owners at ease.
"She… ah, she got into a bit of a fight," the woman said, fiddling with the ring on her finger nervously. "Ruby’s not usually a fighter but she gets antsy around the full moon."
"Ah, I see," David nodded, "Anyone injured?"
"A squirrel got off a little better," the woman snickered. "She can sure pick her fights."
David made a face, “Yeesh, squirrels are aggressive little bastards.” He picked up Ruby’s paw and started his examination, checking the wound - not infected, luckily - and the bruising - not too extensive, but Ruby whimpered at the prodding and needed her owner to soothe her. “You got off lightly there, girl,” he murmured. Ruby gave him a sullen look.
"I’m sorry," he straightened, looking the owner in the eye. She was astonishingly pretty, he thought, with a jet-black pixie cut grown long at the top, sweet olive eyes and a wide, warm smile. She looked like birds would dress her in the morning. "I… didn’t catch your name."
"Mary Margaret," she said, and the smile grew wider, and David didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful in his life. "Blanchard. You’re Dr Nolan?"
"David," he said, quickly, not wanting this woman to think of him in entirely professional terms. "You can… call me David."
"David," she beamed, and took his proferred hand. Her hands were cool, her handshake firm, her skin very soft. They probably held hands a little too long before letting go; David certainly didn’t mind.
Robert Carlyle Characters + Name Meanings 1/2
The armchairs in the new castle were comfortable. That, at least, Belle could say for this new-old world.
The rest, she was less than impressed with. But the chairs were comfy, and she pressed a hand to her slightly-swollen belly almost unconsciously as she tried to focus on that, and not on the ache in almost every inch of her body.
She was lonely, she thought, that was the problem. Lonely, and pregnant, and heartbroken: she was exactly where her father had predicted she would end up, falling in love with the Dark One. He hadn’t been right, but he’d been accurate.
"Three months, Rumple," she whispered, "three months."
I applaud this man.
"This doesn’t count," Belle commented, her arms folded, as they stood before the one bench Rumple had willingly donated to the Storybrooke Parks and Recreation Trust.
"You told me I had to donate," Rumple smirked, "You didn’t stipulate what, or where, or what it should say."
Belle groaned, “An anonymous gift was too much for you?”
"My reputation has softened somewhat, darling, since our relationship became public, especially since Bae’s return. And while I am happy, you know I am, that doesn’t make me a nice man."
"You are a nice man,” Belle insisted. Then she reread the inscription on the bench, and grimaced, “You just have an odd way of showing it.”
"I’m simply honest, my Belle," he snickered, "you did tell me that honesty was important, after all."
"This was not what I meant.”
By kind donation of Rumpelstiltskin, the bench read, He hates Storybrooke and everyone in it
And then, beneath it, in smaller print.
Except for Belle and Bae and Henry, it said, because they’re the whole world.
Okay but seriously I need one of you adorable rumple artists to draw me Rumple really fucking loving his box because RUMPELSTILTSKIN IS A CAT AND CATS ARE BATSHIT ABOUT BOXES.
You know you want it too.
Reblog if you actually LOVE Henry and think he is adorable!
I’ve always loved him! He is a smart and kind kid!
I feel for him right now though. He wants so badly to be a hero, and he has his father’s and grandparents’ self-sacrifice streak a mile wide. Everyone’s surprised by him being dumb enough to believe Pan and rip his own heart out, but he find this before, in season 1 when he ate the apple turnover. Then, it turned out his faith was well founded and he was right. Sadly this time not so much.
Basically Henry’s recent ancestors need to stop almost killing him. First his adoptive mom/step-great grandma, and now his great-grandpa. And when Emma says stop, he needs to listen.
[JAY-Z & BEYONCE’S ‘03 BONNIE & CLYDE PLAYS IN THE DISTANCE]
Okay but she is totes wearing that ascot to hide a love-bite or five, y/y?
Title: An Honest Day’s Work
Summary: Rumpelstiltskin’s cursed persona in Storybrooke is not the powerful Mr Gold but Gaz, an out-of-work factory worker and the ex husband of Mayor Mills, who has custody of his son. Out of desperation to earn enough for a real custody bid, Gaz finds himself an honest job - a cleaner and handyman for the town’s landowner, Ms French.
Or, that one where Gold’s Storybrooke personality is Gaz from The Full Monty.
A/N: I worked on this over a year ago, and then set it to one side because of reasons. However, I like it as a snippet/oneshot, and Straggle had some bad news today, so here’s some cheer-up fic - the closest thing to Anyelle my crossover-phobic muse can create! Enjoy bb!
“Gareth Gold?” Annabelle looked up from the CV to the man in front of her, frowning, “Really?”
He nodded, looking earnest and serious. It didn’t suit him. Anna could tell time wasters a mile off - it wasn’t easy, after all, to be a woman running a business, even these days - and this guy had it written all over him.
Waster, joker, layabout, wheeler-dealer.
“Gaz, actually,” he said, with a little smile. She supposed it was supposed to be charming: wonderful, he was also probably also a self-proclaimed ladies’ man.
“Right,” she smiled back, “Gaz.”
For some reason, it feels important that Belle’s clothes be perfect.
Rumpelstiltskin has never had a maid before - his choice to take Belle had been more about the taking than the having, truth be told. And now she has set a prisoner loose, and they have to venture into the world.