#The hare who wore a sweater
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Hare Jimmy angst? Hare Jimmy angst
Music credit: âTho Iâm A Tortiseâ By Madilyn Mei
Video + partial audio credit: shoot from the hip
#shoot from the hip#Sfth edits#emu edits#Look at me doing things again đ#The Hare Who Wore A Sweater#Idk how much I like this edit Iâm not 100% happy with the way I did the words#But oh well :)))#still proud of it#and I have another edit planned :)))
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more SFTH moments as headlines <33
(also tysm to everyone who like wished me well on the last post, it means a lot!!)
#svnnyd4ys#shut up sunny!!#shoot from the hip#sfth#shootimpro#long post#in order of appearance:#susan's holiday#the evil make-a-wish kid#the evil make a wish kid#wine under the bridge#the lighthouse#murders in space#inside the mysterious cube#(bubba and jeremiah are married#the hare who wore a sweater
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sfth ruined me I can not hear the word cocktail without internally going "ohh. Cock."
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All of sfth's improvized plays described by someone with bad/selective memory (but remembers 90% of the sentences they make up) pt. 2
6) Too Big To Be a Jockey
Something about a horse being split in half because its rider is too big. Also, children having guns pointed at them and an entire skin suit (literal skin) that a child (who was supposedly dead) was wearing
7) The OOPSIE DAISY Bulge
Tom saying oopsie daisy somewhere round the start (does he even say it? I don't know). I don't even remember this one but I swear I watched it
8) The Hare Who Wore a Sweater
Husband mad at wife for caring for the hares. Husband goes to bar. German woman flirts with him ("do you know how many orifices a woman has? A German woman has more!"). Barkeep gives him a drink called Be Carefulâ˘. Some time before or after that, Barkeep tries to slut-drop, falls, gets caught by the husband (and the guys on the sidelines). Wife gives a talking hare a sweater ("a moment of peace in the void") and the hare tries to tell her about the upcoming danger (Mcginnery) but then gets shot a little later ("Bingo!"). "What happened to your hare?", wife accuses husband of shooting Jimmy the hare immediately after the husband said he didn't. Car chase scene where both Mcginnery and his assistant seem to be driving (even the characters comment on this). Husband slut-drops to prevent Mcginnery from pressing the detonator for the mines surrounding the village (?). The hares have a meeting some time before or during the previous scene and go to deactivate the mines. They later appear and get mad at the wife because she claimed to have deactivated the mines herself then snaps at the hares because she "fucking nit [them] sweaters"
9) Once Upon a Time I Killed Mum
DANGERFIELD! And something about bring your kid to work day at the station ("Rapier :D!")
10) The Midnight Mystery
Lord and Lady Lafaytte are interrogated about the murder, they say they were busy making love at the time. Head king of the police accidentally summons Scottish Batman (and Robin) and tells him to fuck off. Something something Robin gets kidnapped, Lord Lafayette ends up doing a Bane thing
Prev // Next
#methinks it's funny how thhwas is the longest one#it's just sooo funny that i know the exact plot and how it happens#shoot from the hip#sfth#shootimpro#too big to be a jockey#the oopsie daisy bulge#the hare who wore a sweater#once upon a time i killed mum#the midnight mystery#all of sfth's improvized plays described by someone with bad/selective memory
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This specific moment has peak Baron (from the Baronies) energy
The voice, the intonation, the way itâs supposed to be seductive but ends up wholly menacing⌠itâs beautiful
#the way i can absolutely picture this interaction between Riz and Baron#and kalina as AJ because why not#baron from the baronies#sfth#shoot from the hip#the hare who wore a sweater
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The transferable cross-applicable skill of the slut drop
1. Woo your wife
2. Open a door
3. Woo her some more
4.... Sam??
Sam no...
Bonus! AJ's attempt...
(we'll make a slut of you yet AJ)
Huh who said that?
From (arguably) one of the best improvised plays...
youtube
#sfthpost#shoot from the hip#sfth#comedy#youtube#improv#funny#improvised comedy#improvised plays#edit#gifset#sfth gifset#the hare who wore a sweater#shootimpro#shootimprov#sfth gifs
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It confused me a lot at first too (and others as well, youâre not the only one!) but as far as I know it was just the way AJ said it plus the way that Tom was like flirting and trying to seduce Sam as a sexy german woman, and AJ coming out of no where and saying âI made you a cocktailâ âitâs called be carefulâ -but in the particular voice he says it in it seems to be the particularly funny part :))
I feel like I'm going insane. Am I the only person who doesn't understand why "be careful" was so funny? Was it the way AJ said it or am I missing context? Can someone explain to me đ
It's basically the only time in sfth stuff that I've been laughing literally because everyone else is laughing and not understanding anything but still having a great time đ
#shoot from the hip#sfthposting#The hare who wore a sweater#Sorry If these words donât make sense I should be asleep lol
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I will eventually return to my extremely well curated profile pic which matches the aesthetic of my blog but for now I need the energy of a man doing an improv show who is so surprised and delighted by a joke his friend pulls off he breaks abruptly and aggressively and shrieks with laughter for a full minute I need to bring this energy to the table.
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Shoot from the hip couples time. All of them play couples so well. Like yes the couples that Luke and Sam play are the most popular. But here are my favourite canon or non canon couples...
- Titch and Derek ( Luke and Tom) [The Unrelenting Aubergine]. .yeah I know.. I love this couple soo much. This pair is such a wholesome couple, literally one of the most wholesome pairings they do. . I'm not kidding. .I'm always down for a Luke and Tom duo moment, and my god.. it worked.
- Toby and his wife (Luke and Sam) [Tobys Secret Pocket]- I mean. .it's a Luke and Sam couple, but in all fairness this one is very sweet and somewhat wholesome. . They have excellent communication, even when one is high.. also it kinda worked in the most chaotic of their plays.
- Jeremiah and Bubba (Luke and Sam) [Inside the Mysterious Cube] - Honestly my favourite Luke/Sam canon couple. I love this pair of characters so much.
- Tarquin and Amanda (Tom and Sam) [Lost in your eyes] - one of the plays that ends in tragedy for the couple. . It's rare we get a Tom and Sam duo. Especially coupled up in the released on YouTube plays.
- Barry and his wife (Sam and AJ) [The Hare who wore a sweater] Honestly my favourite canon couple. . The way they didn't shire away from the fact that relationships have issues.
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So I've been watching sfth's content for a couple of months now so I feel it's time to contribute something to the community. Hence, I present you with my reviews of some of their plays:
The Hare That Wore a Sweater 6/10
Personally I don't like the way this one ends, it just didn't feel finished but the play still gets a 6 from me because of Sam's slut dropping and luke's little hare foot stomp thingy. Absolutely perfect.
The Leftenmost Window 10/10
This is my absolute favourite play from sfth. Everything about it is perfect. The way luke adds the drama with the little sister's "he promised me he would" is *chefs kiss*. Tom running on stage just to go ah! and run back off again, crossing the astral plane (walking through the audience), the tank scene, luke's declaration of love, the "ja, thank god we invested" about the unicycle brigade and so much more I just love. Then that kiss at the end. Wow. Just wow. I think this play is a masterpiece.
Bus 8/10
This play is a prime example of why you can never predict what's going to happen in a sfth play. I did not guess the story would be about a famous porn writer who gets kidnapped by the hyper sexual communist party of he uk who then gets saved by an up and coming porn writer who is then inspired to finish her porn book. However I really liked it so idk what that says about me.
So those are some reviews. Lmk what you think and if I should post more.
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Amazing! This has got to be one of my favourite lines.
I've realised I really enjoy making little comics and even if they're not perfect they're little and silly and that's good enough for me. This is my first one in marker and I think I might stick to pencil but I still like it :)
#shoot from the hip#sfth#sfth fanart#sfth aj#sfth tom#sfth sam#improvised comedy#the hare who wore a sweater#improvised play#fanart#reblog
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Be carefulâ˘
âBarry, I made you a cocktail.â
âFor me?â
âitâs called BE CAREFUL(tm)â
:DD
#One of the best quotes#I love it#Sfth asks#Hello anon :)#shoot from the hip#sfthposting#The hare who wore a sweater
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some sfth plays as Richard Siken poetry quotes bc i love combining my interests sorry guys
might do a version where it's characters with very specific ones, but for now the plays!! these quotes make the plays seem much sadder than they are lmfaoo
plays 1-10 under the cut~
OMG, IS THIS A JOKE? "It starts with bloodshed, always bloodshed, always the same running from yourself story," (driving, not washing - Crush)
THE MERINGUE HABERDASHERY "I woke up and ate ice cream in the dark, hunched over on the wooden chair in the kitchen, listening to the rain. I borrowed your shoes and didn't put them away." (i had a dream about you - Crush)
LOST IN YOUR EYES "I thought of myself as a city and I licked my lips. I thought of myself as a nation and I wrung my hands. I put a thing in your hands. Will you defend yourself?" (landscape with a blur of consequences - War of the Foxes)
THE DARK MOONS OF SLOUGH "They huddled closer, shoulder to shoulder, painted themselves in herds, all together and apart from the rest." (the language of the birds - War of the Foxes)
LONG JOHNS - STRIKE! "You're in a car. You're in the weeds again. You're on a bumpy roads and there are criminals everywhere, longing for danger." (the dislocated room - Crush)
TOO BIG TO BE A JOCKEY "A stone on the path means the tea's not ready, a stone in the hand means somebody's angry, the stone inside of you still hasn't hit bottom." (seaside improvisation - Crush)
THE OOPSIE DAISY BULGE "Our scope was much larger than I realised, which only made me that much more responsible." (detail of the hayfield - War of the Foxes)
THE HARE WHO WORE A SWEATER "The wife has a dead hand. This is earlier. She is living and her dead hands feed her pills that don't work. The boy sleeps on the roof or falls out of trees. The father works late. The wife looks out of the window and thinks, Not this." (war of the foxes - War of the Foxes)
ONCE UPON A TIME I KILLED MUM "'Cut off your head, kid. For all the good it'll do ya.' I glued my head back on. All thoughts finish themselves eventually." (landscape with fruit rot and millipede - War of the Foxes)
THE MIDNIGHT MYSTERY "He could build a city. Has a certain capacity. There's a niche in his chest where a heart could fit perfectly and he thinks if he could maneuver one into place- well then, game over." (road music - Crush)
(inside the mysterious cube is getting it's own post)
#svnnyd4ys#shut up sunny!!#long post#poetry quotes#richard siken quotes#richard siken#shoot from the hip#sfth#shootimpro#omgitaj#omg is this a joke#the meringue haberdashery#lost in your eyes#the dark moons of slough#long johns - strike!#too big to be a jockey#the oopsie daisy bulge#the hare who wore a sweater#once upon a time i killed mum#the midnight mystery
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i dont know if this reasoning makes sense about fan signs at shows but iâll just say it. yeah there are certain signs harry reacted to that was more of a grimace like a girl yelling pussy when he doing the intro for WS and he just made an odd face and walked off and some saying âchoke me daddyâ and the pussy sign got taken away by security and signs like show me your ass/tits he either stuck his ass out or pulled his shirt to a side and did what the fans asked for.
and like i know its. a part of the job? like youâre a famous attractive person thereâs bound to be quite a lot of thirst but like maybe cuz im a new fan? i only know of him saying the sex symbol status makes him uncomfortable and he doesnât want to think about it (maybe i misjudged it too idk) and while the daddy/pussy signs do make me uncomfortable, what grates on my nerves more is the people taking those shows justifying it by saying. he talks about oral sex in his songs, he wore the mutual wanking keith haring shirt or the i wanna blow george harrison sweater etc etc so why shouldnât we talk about him and to him thw same way. cuz his comfort in talkijg about intimacy and sexual desire isnât a free pass to put your stuff on him too. i just go off the way he reacts to signs or the way he once reacted to specific signs but overall thats what i think.. like dont justify what youâre doing lol its not really the best reason đĽ´
I do think there are two basic arguments going on here - the first is that people can tell Harry's feelings about the different signs and therefore on that basis it's OK to judge those signs. I think this ask shows how absurd that is. It's the second times in a few days that I've got an ask claiming that someone wasn't actually smiling they're grimacing. You don't know how Harry feels. I don't know how Harry feels. To make a claim that other people are doing something wrong, because Harry doesn't like it, is absurd arrogant on the part of any fan.
I am most infuriated by the hypocrisy of people who like 'show us your tits' signs, but don't like 'treat my pussy with kindness' signs deciding that that's not a personal preference, but some kind of principled position.
But I would make a slightly different version of hte argument you seem to be rejecting here. You characterise a range of things as Harry talking about intimacy and sexual desire (I don't think any of them are about intimacy, but that's another issue). I think that rather misses the point. In Watermelon Sugar, particularly the video, Harry explicitly talks about pussys. That video is not generalised discussion of sexual intimacy - it's very explicity about pussys. By ignoring the specificty of watermelon sugar, and pretending it's more general, you're significantly changing the dynamic.
I think that if a man is has talked explicitly and publicly about women's pussys, then it's pretty fraught to argue that women are doing something shocking and wrong by talking about their pussys to him.
#There also seems to be a specfic reaction to the word 'pussys'#which is fascinating to me#given Harry's history with that word
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Ashley Olsen Spills Her Secrets
The personal-style icon and force behind two thriving fashion lines gives us a peek into her closet, and her life.
Written by Lucy Kaylin (Marie Claire, 2009)
VIEW GALLERY
There's something genius about seeing the chicest girl in New York all dolled up in tacky cowgirl fringe. I'm sitting with Ashley Olsen at a table in her Greenwich Village town house, looking through a scrapbookâcompiled by her great-grandmotherâthat pretty much tells the story of her and Mary-Kate's blistering rise. The pages are filled with gently yellowed clippings from local newspapers chronicling their toddlerhood on the sitcom Full House through their early years as a two-headed pop-culture juggernaut: the Olsen twins on the publicity circuit in genie costumes; in fairy costumes; in terrycloth robes; in penguin suits; in trenchcoats; in mini-mogul drag; in, yes, cowgirl fringe ... "I look back at the things that we did and the clothes that we wore, and I think, Wow, we really were troupers," says Ashleyâalthough, gazing at some hideous flowered overalls she was put in at age 6 or 7, she has to admit, "I remember really loving those." What comes across in the photos is the degree to which the girls' lives were engineered. "It was almost like I was in the army," Ashley says. "School, work, homework, fly to New York, get in at 2 in the morning, do a morning show at 5 a.m., then another one at 7, then a radio interview at 10, you know?" Cutesy, coordinated outfits were just part of the drill. The pressure was intense and the scrutiny even more so â "That's why I look at Britney, and I'm surprised I didn't end up like her."
To see Ashley now, it's difficult to fathom that part of her life. At 23, she is very much the master of her own fate, and an icon of defiant personal style. Today she's wearing beige corduroys made exponentially cooler by the fact that she's ripped them up the side seams from hem to shinâand the fact that she's owned them since she was about 15. (Understand: She never, ever throws out clothes. The genie and penguin costumes? All stashed in storage units in L.A. warehouses.) She's paired the beige cords with a signature piece from her and Mary-Kate's fashion line The Rowâa supersoft white T-shirt with an artfully stretched-out neck, the short sleeves of which she likes pushing up over her shoulders. Add black flats without socks, tuck the fine blonde hair up under a floppy skateboarder's cap, and the lookâat least on herâis just hip and effortless and right. "I think you're either born with a sense of style or you're not," Ashley says in her small, soft voice, giving her knuckles a loud crack. "Either you care or you don't. And we"âshe and Mary-Kateâ"love fashion. When we were going to NYU, I think that was the first time we were aware of the power of our personal style. Not the power of it, but the result of it. Between the big sunglasses and the Starbucks cup and the big sweaters, the hobo-chic thing, we were more shocked than anything"âby the endless commentary and tabloid coverage. "I get it; we were fortunate enough to have really nice clothes, and we put them together in this raggedy way. My mom wears glasses this big"âshe mimes massive gogglesâ"from the '70s, and you wonder where we got it from?" She laughs. "The dark eyeliner, the scarf around the headâit's just so interesting and natural." Her family, she says, was "very bohemian." "Mary-Kate and I are very aware of trends and style, but at the end of the day, we don't even think twice about it. It's just, What do I feel like wearing today, and how do I want to put it together?" To some extent, Ashley buys the theory that years of being manhandled and styled bred an intense desire in both girls to dress themselves. Eventually, that meant cutting down and altering designer pieces to suit their petite framesâa habit that persists rather feverishly to this day. "The amount of beautiful things we've ruinedânot having the patience for a tailor and cutting everything ourselves ⌠My sister once took an AlaĂŻa dress of mine and just cut the whole thing, and then she was like, 'I cut it too short.'" Ashley has to laugh. "Mary-Kate and I don't think about fashion as these clean, beautiful objects. We just kind of wear it and live in it"âand make it their own. When she bought the Daytona watch that's currently on her wrist, she promptly changed the white face to black and the gold links to a crocodile band. In other words, fashion is a way the otherwise elusive Olsens express themselvesâmost notably through two clothing lines that are somehow thriving despite the cataclysmic retail climate. Ashley and Mary-Kate collaborate closely on Elizabeth and James (named for their siblings), a line that commingles softness and toughnessâfor instance, slouchy boyfriend jackets and shirts with a flirty ruffle. The idea is to create "a tug-of-war in something with a masculine spirit and a feminine attitude," says Neiman Marcus Fashion Director Ken Downing. "The girls keep nailing it season after season after season. And they single-handedly brought the legging back into fashion." While Mary-Kate tends to conjure the overriding conceptsâplaying with movie references from Oliver Twist to Hook for the fall '09 collectionâAshley hones in on zippers and buttons and fit. "Nothing gets by them," says their Elizabeth and James partner, Jane Siskin. The Row, meanwhile, speaks more to their desire for a closetful of what Ashley calls "high-end basics": the perfect blazer, the just-so T-shirt, the cashmere sweater that sort of melts in your handsâwith intriguing twists like a seam running up the back. "I just really wanted to make beautiful things," she says. "An educated garment." According to Debi Greenburg, owner of Louis Boston, "Because Ashley's a bit of a type A personality, there's perfection in the way the clothes fit, the way they're cut, that translates on the body beautifully. The Row has become one of my stellar collections here." Ashley leads me through a few rooms of her town house, haphazardly decorated in battered leather chairs with arms worn down to the stuffing; on the walls are a rare Basquiat self-portrait and three works by Keith Haring that she got at a pawnshop for $30 apiece. In the corner is a drum kit from the Wii game Rock Band, Ashley's new obsession (she plays it at least two hours a night). "I swear to you, it's brought out this whole new thing in me," she says. "I can be a very serious person, and I take my job very seriously, but at the end of the day, I need a break." Her boyfriend, The Hangover's Justin Bartha, also helps in that area. He just called from a press junket in Europe; Ashley signed off with, "Keep your phone by the bed" and "I love you." To say the least, it's been a relief for this pillar of self-sufficiency to have someone she can count on, who puts her ambitions in perspective. "It's more important than anything else in the world," Ashley says.
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Golden Rings 19: A Friend
The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs
Rumpelstiltskin receives a visitor
Read on AO3
A family stands before him, more terrified than they want to show. The man holds a top hat in both hands. The woman keeps her arms over their daughter.
âIs it true?â the man asks. âWhat Regina is threatening, can she do it?â
Slowly, Rumpelstiltskin steps toward the huddled family. It is unlike Jefferson to be so serious, unlike Leona to show anything less than brazen self-confidence. The girl may be too young to know what is happening, but she knows that her parents are afraid and that is enough to make her terrified.Â
Belle comes up behind him, her hand extended to the child. âGrace,â she says gently, âwould you like to visit my horse? Perhaps we could go for a ride.â
The girl looks to her parents. âMay I, Mama? Papa?â
âOf course, luv.â Leona releases her grip on her daughter. âMake sure you mind Belle, and donât get yourself into any trouble you canât get out of.â
Nodding obediently, the child takes his wifeâs hand. Belle gives him an encouraging smile before they go out to the stables. She trusts him to handle the situation on his own. She knows he can assuage their fears.Â
Once his daughter is gone, Jefferson leaves his wife and comes up to Rumpelstiltskin. He puts his hands on his shoulders and looks him in the eyes. âIâm serious,â he says.
âI know you are, my boy.â Delicately, he extracts himself from the other manâs grip. âThis is a serious matter.â
âThis queen lady told everyone sheâs going to destroy the world.â Leona says what they all know but cannot utter. âDoes she really have that much power?â
He cannot face them. He turns away, takes long, slow steps around his dining room before he answers.Â
âYes.â Â
Jefferson crushes the brim of his hat in one hand. After a moment, he gathers himself. âWeâve seen worlds destroyed before, Dark One. It is a terrible thing.â
âYes,â he agrees. âYes, you were with me when proud Atlantis sank beneath the waves. A million lives lost in fire and water and lightning. But Reginaâs curse is⌠different. Her purpose is not to destroy the world, but to destroy happiness.â
Leonaâs mouth drops open. âAnd how is killing everyone not the same as all that? Who would be left to be happy, when itâs all over?â
Rumpelstiltskin shakes his head. âNo, she wants us alive. Everyone in this world, everyone she considers her enemy. She wants us alive and miserable and trapped in our misery for the rest of time.â
âGods.â Jefferson collapses into a chair and hangs his head. Leona stands by him and takes his hand into her own.Â
âRegina will end this world, and take us all to a new one--a land without happy endings. We will all be severed from the people we love, or even if we are near them, we wonât be able to love them.â
âBut why everyone?â Leona asks. âWhy us? I never did anything to this woman! Whatâs she got against me?âÂ
Walking over to the couple, he places his hand over where theirs are joined. âYou are happy,â he says simply. âThe two of you have a love that she will never know--and the love of your child besides that. Regina believes that she will never have happiness as long as anyone else does.â
Leona nods, understanding. âSo sheâs mad, is she?â
âYes,â Jefferson answers. His blue eyes look out at nothing as he speaks. âIâve worked with Regina, before I met you, Leo. Once, she commissioned me to take her and a servant girl to Wonderland. Didnât tell me that this was going to be a rescue mission to save some old man. You know the rules of the hat, only the number of people that go in can come out again. That was why Regina brought the servant girl. She killed her. Ripped her heart out of her chest and crushed it. As easily as blowing her nose. We left the girlâs body there, in the forest of giant mushrooms. So yeah. As they say in Wonderland, Regina is mad as the March Hare.â
Leona holds her husband in both hands, standing over him as she had stood over her daughter earlier. Wincing at the memory, he rests against her bosomÂ
âWhat do we do?â For all her comforting posture, Leona looks at Rumpelstiltskin with steely determination. âCan you stop her?â
He raises his hands in a show of helplessness. âRegina is a powerful magic-user and she is on a war-path.â
Hands balled into fists, Leona breaks away from Jefferson and begins to pace. âIf my mother were here, sheâd hit that woman upside the head with a cauldron, queen or no!â
âYeah, well Nanny Ogg is from a different world than this one.â Jefferson stays seated in the chair. His hat hangs loosely in his grip.
âIt is not hopeless,â Rumpelstiltskin says. âAll curses can be broken.â
âBroken after theyâve been cast!â Leona marches up to him, wielding an accusatory finger. âI want to know if you can stop her, stop this curse from ever happening!â
âLeo,â Jefferson stands behind his wife. Gently, he puts his hands on her ample hips and pulls her close to him. âThe Dark One is our friend. Iâm sure heâs doing everything he can.â
He says nothing. He lets Jeffersonâs faith do the talking for him. Jefferson is a clever man, but less shrewd than his wife. The poor boy wants to believe in him, but Leona Ogg has no such sentimentality. She is wise enough to know that if he wanted to stop this curse, it would never have been able to start.Â
âYou should leave,â he tells them quietly. âThe three of you should go in the hat, find some world far from here where you can live out the rest of your days together.â
âIf Regina can destroy one world, sheâll find a way to destroy others,â Jefferson points out.Â
He shakes his head. âAfter the curse is cast, Regina will be stopped. A Savior will come, a force of goodness who will destroy her evil forever.â
âBut only after weâve been cursed?â Leona crosses her arms.Â
He nods. âYes. The only way to avoid it is to flee. Leave this world before it leaves you.â
Slowly, Jefferson turns his hat over in his hands. âThat makes sense.â He looks to Leona. âWhere do you want to go?â
âLancre, of course. If we canât live in the home we made for ourselves, we might as well go to Mumâs.â
Jefferson nods. âWhat do you say, Dark One? Can I offer you and Belle a trip to Discworld?â
He shakes his head. âI canât know what form my magic will take on a world like that. There is a risk Iâll transform into something horrible and the good people of the Disk World will have to try to slay me.â
Leona snorts. âAnd itâll take a few weeks at least to find any âgood peopleâ around. Weâre not as black and white with the âheroesâ and âvillainsâ as this place.â
âAll the more reason for me to stay here and face this curse as it comes.â
âAnd Belle will stay with you?â
He gives his friend a rueful grin. âI couldnât make her leave me if I tried.â
Jefferson looks down at his hat and then looks up again. âDo you really think if we go to Discworld the curse will pass us by?â
He puts his hands over Jeffersonâs around the brim. âThe best I can promise is that you will be safer.â
Leonaâs dark eyes narrow. ââSaferâ isnât âsafe,â Mister Dark One.â
âNo.â Jefferson steps back, away from Rumpelstiltskin and toward his wife. In a motion born from years of practice, he twirls the hat to put it on his head. âBut sometimes safer is the best you can hope for.â
âI hope you do get away from the curse,â he tells them honestly. âFor it will be a very long time before any good can come out of all this. â
****
It was strange, to wake up in a bed without Belle. Without even Mrs. Goldâs body, warm and soft beside him. In the month since they had started sleeping in separate bedrooms, Rumpelstiltskin still hadnât gotten used to waking up alone. It had been a bittersweet torture to spend that much time in bed with a woman who wasnât Belle. Being without was a milder ache, but an ache nonetheless. Â
That morning, he met her going up the stairs as he was coming down. Mrs. Gold was still in her pajamas--a new pair he hadnât seen before. She had a plate of toast in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. So she would eat in her room before she got dressed. That was the opposite of his routine. Ever since their new arrangement, Mrs. Gold had been going out of her way to avoid him.  Â
He wanted to speak to her. He wanted to say something innocuous, even just âGood morning.â Something to make her turn and look at him, say anything in response. He just wanted to see Belleâs face, hear Belleâs voice.
But Mrs. Gold turned away, pressed herself against the banister, and brushed past him as quickly as she could.
Rumpelstiltskin sighed. How strange that he would miss that woman, that he would feel their estrangement so keenly. Before, he had taken for granted that Mrs. Gold wanted to please him, that she sought him out and tried to talk with him. But now she would only speak when he asked her a question. Now she kept to her room when he was in the house. She stayed away from the shop during the day. Wherever he was, his wife made a point to be somewhere else.
Considering how he had treated her, it was no less than he deserved.Â
After making his breakfast, he sat alone at the far end of a long table. In silence, Rumpelstiltskin read the newspaper and tried to push from his mind how familiar a situation this was. Not with Belle. Once he had her in his castle, she had never avoided him, even when it would have been in her best interest. But before Belle. During those long centuries of isolation, when he had been an enemy of love. When his life was nothing but magic and deals and endless searching for a way to find Bae. When people were nothing but tools to be used, locks to be picked, pieces to be arranged upon a chessboard that stretched out for decades.Â
Then, he had spent many mealtimes at the head of a table set for one.
When it was time to leave for the day, Mrs. Gold came down to join him. Every morning he gave her a ride into town. She usually kept her face to the window and didnât make a sound for the whole trip.Â
She wore charcoal today, a sweater-dress that wrapped snugly around her body. Gold would have sent her out in that with nothing underneath, but she had put on layers of camisoles and blouses. Most of her clothes were flimsy and skimpy, so she wore the pieces on top of each other in a haphazard effort to cover herself.
 At least she looked warm.
The clashing dark colors washed out her face, made her look even paler and sadder. She wasnât wearing cosmetics, or any jewelry besides her wedding ring. Her thick, curly hair hung limply over her shoulders, like a shroud.Â
Again, Rumpelstiltskin wanted to speak to her. But what could he say? Any comment on her appearance would seem like an attack, any inquiry to her wellbeing would be an invasion. What do you say to someone youâre no longer even pretending to love?
âWhat do you think youâll do today?â he tried once they were in the car.Â
She shrugged and sank further back into the seat, her arms folded over her chest.Â
âDo you need money?â It seemed a heartless, mercenary solution, but it was all he could safely offer her.
And it worked. Straightening up, Mrs. Gold spoke: âSure.â
At Storybrookeâs only stoplight, he pulled out his wallet and handed her a wad of bills.
She put them in her purse. âSince youâre paying me, I guess that means youâre satisfied with what youâre getting out of this new deal.â
Rumpelstiltskin gripped the steering wheel. No, he wasnât satisfied at all. But he wouldnât be satisfied until Belle was sitting next to him, talking to him. Lonely as he was, he couldnât ask for Mrs. Goldâs time or attention. It would be too cruel to demand any devotion, when he knew he had no intention of doing the same. He couldnât love Mrs. Gold. It would be too unfair to ask her to love him again.Â
He parked the car next to the shop.âYouâre doing everything I expected you would, Mrs. Gold.âÂ
âGreat.â She zipped up her purse. âThat must be why weâre both so fucking happy.â
By the time he turned to look at her, she had already unbuckled her safety belt and slammed the door.Â
Rumpelstiltskin watched Mrs. Gold walk away. He could go after her, even on his cane. He could shout to get her attention. He could drive up to her and insist she get back in the car. He could make an effort to talk to her, to get her to talk to him. He could try to understand this woman, this curse-creature who occupied Belleâs body, but who seemed to have a mind of her own. He could try to get inside that mind. He could try to see who she was, now that she wasnât pretending to be what she thought her husband wanted.Â
But he did nothing. Rumpelstiltskin was a coward down to his bones. No good would come of getting to know Mrs. Gold. He couldnât risk finding out what she thought of him, what she wanted out of this relationship. They didnât have a relationship, they didnât relate to each other.
He had made sure of that.Â
So Rumpelstiltskin did what he had been doing every day since heâd been let out of the jail cell: He opened the pawn shop, and conducted his business, and waited for the Savior to break the curse.Â
****
 It was dark outside, when the bell rang over the shop door. A spring storm was picking up. Wind sent leaves and debris skittering over the road and sidewalks. Thunder rumbled and heavy clouds pressed down upon the town.Â
Rumpelstiltskin was polishing the collection of silver on the side counter. At the sound of the bell, he looked up.Â
And froze.Â
Jefferson.
It was Jefferson. The tall, broad-shouldered young man who had transported him from world to world for a handsome fee, who had accompanied him on dozens of adventures, who had reminded him that physical pleasure could come with personal affection. The boy who had paved the way for Belle to enter his heart.
How was he here? Hadnât he taken his family and escaped to the Disk World? Wouldnât they have been safe there? Gold had no memories of the man who stood before him. He had no idea what Jeffersonâs life had been like under the curse. Where was Leona? Where was Grace?
The longer Rumpelstiltskin looked at Jefferson, the more he saw the changes in him. He wasnât smiling. The boyish good humor was gone. There was no dancing light in his slate blue eyes. He used to stand with his head jauntily cocked to one side, but now he looked straight ahead, level and deadly serious. The man before him looked burdened, weathered and hollowed out.
He was dressed like himself, as much as Storybrooke fashions would allow. He wore a scarf at his throat, as he used to wear a cravat over the leather collar that matched his wifeâs. The clothes were well-tailored, expensive. His gray, rain-soaked overcoat had gunmetal leather lapels, very much like a coat Rumpelstiltskin had given him as a gift back in the old world. Jeffersonâs scarf, shirt, and waistcoat were all different patterns, all in gray and black.  Â
He wasnât wearing a hat.
The first time Rumpelstiltskin had met Jefferson, he had entrusted him with a magical hat. The boy had been running away from a woman he didnât want to marry, a life he didnât want to live. In his hopelessness, he had sliced a line across his throat with a knife. His dying wish had been to find a world where he could be happy.Â
That was when the Dark One had made himself known. He had healed the boyâs wounds and given him a hat that would take him to every world with magic. Surely somewhere there would be happiness for a young man who had never fit the mold he had been made for.Â
And ever since then, Jefferson had been at his service.
Brow lowered, gait heavy, the man approached the counter. He set both hands upon the glass top. A few of his fingers wore wide, silver rings. But no wedding ring. Was he not married in this world? What had happened to Leona Ogg?Â
âAre you Mr. Gold?â
Quickly recovering from the shock of seeing Jefferson--and seeing him so changed--Rumpelstiltskin returned to his work. âThat is the name on the front of the building.â
âBut is it who you are?â Jeffersonâs voice was different too. His tone was pointed, accusatory. Â
If he was Mr. Gold, he wouldnât put up with being spoken to that way. Rumpelstiltskin braced against his side of the counter, arming himself in businesslike courtesy. âAnd who might you be?â
Jeffersonâs face changed as though someone had flipped a switch. He put on the mask of a wide, toothy smile that didnât meet his eyes. Pushing back from the glass case, Jefferson took exaggerated steps around the shop.Â
âThey call me Dodgson around here.â His voice was too bright. âChaz Dodgson. Iâm a pilot. Normally I fly out of Boston, and I go all over the world. But lately--almost for as long as I can remember--I havenât been able to leave this tiny town in Maine. Do you think thatâs strange, Mr. Gold?â
He made his introduction with rapid-fire delivery. A machine gun, that was what they had in this world. That was the image that came to mind. Wild shooting that blasted forth in short bursts of dazzling, horrible, light.Â
Then you waited for the smoke to clear, to see what would happen next.Â
Rumpelstiltskin kept his composure. He made a show of looking down at the silver platter he had been polishing. He saw Jeffersonâs reflection in it, warped and distorted.Â
âI suppose you could say that Storybrooke is rather a strange place, Mr. Dodgson.â
A laugh then. No, a cackle. Rumpelstiltskin had done enough cackling in his time to know the difference. Jefferson let out an agitated, throaty sound that had nothing to do with humor.Â
âYouâre very right, Mr. Gold!â He pointed at him with a manic grin. âMaybe righter than you know!â Then his expression darkened and he turned serious. âOr maybe youâre exactly as right as you know.â
Putting down the polishing rag, Rumpelstiltskin looked up at Jefferson. âCan I help you with something, Mr. Dodgson? Is there something youâre looking for?â
âIâm looking for a lot of things,â he whispered. âAnd if you canât help me, I donât know who can.âÂ
What kind of game was being played here? What did âDodgsonâ want with Gold? Obviously, Jefferson was speaking in a cipher. But was it his code? Or was it the curseâs? How should he respond?
He held the manâs gaze and didnât look away. âWhat are you looking for?â he said softly.Â
Jefferson took a step closer. He didnât look away either. âI hope to every god itâs here, but I just donât know.â
Finally breaking the gaze, Rumpelstiltskin began to put the polished silver away. âDo you need a gift for someone? Your wife perhaps?âÂ
With a smirk, Jefferson shook his head. âNo, this is something I need for myself. What made you think I was married?â
âOh, arenât you? I apologize for the assumption.â
âNo, I am.â He brought his hand to his throat. âBut my wife is, uh, out of town, for now.â
âTraveling?â
âLiving with her mother,â Jefferson said. âAt least, I hope sheâs still there. Itâs been a while since Iâve seen her.â
Leona Ogg hadnât been born in the old world. Jefferson had met her on an absurd flat planet called the Disk World, where her mother was a powerful hedge witch. Rumpelstiltskin had told them to go to that world, he had thought they would be safe there. If he could believe what Dodgson was telling him, he had only been half-right.Â
Or maybe two-thirds. One of Goldâs memories flashed into his mind: A little girl, plump and blonde, with merry dark eyes. The very image of her mother. Grace. But in this world she was Paige Lewis, the adopted and cherished daughter of Tim and Mia Lewis.Â
Why did he have no memories of Dodgson? Where had Jefferson been all this time, while his daughter was being raised by someone else?
âSo is this an item for your children, perhaps?â He asked carefully.Â
Jefferson looked at him, his blue eyes steel and stone. âNo,â he said. âI told you before, this is something I need for myself, Mr. Gold.â
Shrugging, Rumpelstiltskin locked the silver behind the case and limped to the other end of the store by the cash register. âTell me again what it was?â
 With a heavy tread, Jefferson moved to the middle of the store. âTell me what you have.â
Rumpelstiltskin raised his hands and grinned like Gold would. âThe shopâs inventory is rather extensive,â he said. âIf I were to go through an itemized list, weâd be here for quite some time.â
âAlright then,â Jefferson said grimly. âTell me what you think I need.â
He looked him over again, more than willing to play this game. âAn umbrella, perhaps? The rain looks quite nasty.â
âOh, itâs mad as a March hare, as they say. But I donât need an umbrella.â He took a step forward. âI need something quite personal. Long-lasting, durable.â
âMaybe a set of luggage then. Didnât you say you were a traveler?â
âI havenât gone traveling in a long time.â Jaw clenched, Jefferson took another step closer to Rumpelstiltskin. âFor a long time, I wasnât even able to leave my house.â
Not able? For how long?
âWere you ill, Mr. Dodgson?â
âYeah.â He grinned without humor. âI was sick in the head. An absolute nutter. I suffered from delusions. Memories that werenât mine, a life that I had never lived. Can you imagine that, Mr. Gold? Can you imagine?â
âNo,â Rumpelstiltskin lied. âThough it looks like youâre doing well now.â
âYou trust your eyes?â Jefferson let out a short, stuttering laugh that sounded like he did actually find something funny. âI thought you were smarter than that!â
He straightened up. âWhat are you looking for, sir?â After a momentâs hesitation, he added, âI canât help you if you arenât honest.â
The last few steps to the counter were a stagger. Jefferson almost fell against the display case and stayed bent over. âDonât you want to know how long I was trapped in my house?â He looked up at him. His eyes were soft now, teary. âHow long I was trapped in my own double-mind?â
Rumpelstiltskinâs mouth opened. It couldnât be. Surely Jefferson couldnât have suffered like that. Surely even this curse was not that cruel.
He set his hand next to Jeffersonâs, not quite close enough to touch. âMy boy,â he whispered. âTell me what you need.â
âNot a spouse, I have one of those.â He seemed exhausted, breathless. âNot a child either. Not a lover or an employer or a benefactor.â Desperate eyes poured into him. âI donât need a loan shark or a pawnbroker or a landlord.â Still staring, Jefferson took Rumpelstiltskinâs hand and gripped it with all his strength. âI donât need a genius or a wizard or the fucking Dark One!â That last phrase was said in a gritted whisper. It seemed to take everything out of him. âSo you tell me,â he panted. âWhat do I need?â
For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin said nothing. For the second time in just a few minutes, he felt the shock of seeing Jefferson again. And this man was Jefferson, inside and out. He was awake. He was suffering. He neededâŚ
âA friend,â he answered the question at last. âIs that what you came in here to find?â
Slowly straightening up, Jefferson nodded. âIs there one here?â
âYes.â If it werenât for his cane and the glass case between them, he would have embraced the boy like he used to. âYes, Jefferson. Iâm here.â Â
He covered his face with his hands and broke down sobbing. For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin couldnât move. How should he respond to this? What could he do?
He could do what he couldnât do with Mrs. Gold. He could comfort this man. His friend.
Ankle throbbing, he walked to the other side of the counter. Jefferson looked up, his blue eyes brimming with tears. This was the Jefferson that Rumpelstiltskin had known. The boy he had rescued on that fateful day in the forest. One of the rare souls whose desperation filled his dark heart with pity, and not contempt. Â
âMy boy,â he whispered. He opened his arms and Jefferson embraced him.Â
Though Jefferson was taller than Rumpelstiltskin, the Dark One had always wielded the power in their relationship. It was the only way he had felt safe. Their physical dimensions hadnât changed, but marrying Belle had rearranged Rumpelstiltskinâs perspective on safety and power. He let the bigger man hug him, envelop him in his need. He drew strength from Jeffersonâs strength. Even though Jefferson was younger and bigger and fitter than Gold, he had come to him for help.
And Rumpelstiltskin would do everything he could to help him.Â
When they parted, he held Jeffersonâs face in his hands. Coarse stubble prickled against his palms. Full lips parted slightly. Rumpelstiltskin wiped away his tears with his thumbs.Â
âHow did this happen?â he asked softly. âWhy didnât you go to the Disk World?â
âWe did.â Jefferson sniffed. Rumpelstiltskin took the silk pocket square out of his suit coat to give him. âWe left as soon as we could. We lived there for months. But one night, I went to sleep next to Leo in Nanny Oggâs cottage, and the next morning I woke up alone in a massive house I couldnât leave.â
âYou said that before. You couldnât leave?â
He shook his head. âFor twenty-eight years!â His face twisted and he pulled away. Rumpelstiltskin didnât lower his hands. âYou were locked in the curse, but I was locked in that house. I knew who I was, I remembered everything, I remembered too much!â
He rested his hand on his damp coat. âSo thatâs where Dodgson came from?â
Jefferson nodded, took a breath. âI had two lives in my head,â he whispered. âThey both seemed impossible to the other. There were⌠months where I didnât know what was real. In Discworld there was a poet who dreamed that he was a butterfly, and when he woke up, he didnât know if he was a man who dreamed he was a butterfly, or a butterfly who was dreaming he was a man. That was my life. For a very long time.â
âJefferson.â He squeezed his arm. âIâm so sorry.â
He looked at him, his expression drained. âNo one else in this town was like that. Believe me, I had a lot of time to look around. Any theories as to why I was so lucky?â
He shook his head. âItâs Reginaâs curse, maybe she--â
âItâs your curse,â he interrupted. âIâve had some time to think about that. Regina is powerful, but she couldnât have made something like this. That had to be you.â
He took a step back, resting both hands on his cane. Twenty-eight years of isolation, of knowing that time wasnât moving, but being aware of every moment. Twenty-eight years in a world he didnât understand, separated from the people who mattered most to him.Â
Utterly alone.
No wonder Jefferson had changed.Â
He couldnât fool him anymore. He didnât want to. The poor boy deserved better than that. He deserved the truth.
âIt was my curse,â he admitted. âRegina cast it, but I created it. That doesnât mean I have any control over it.â
âHow is that possible?â Jefferson growled. âHow can you, of all people, not have control over everything?â
âBecause, my boy, all magic comes at a price. The curse that destroyed our world and created this town is the most powerful piece of spellmaking Iâve ever touched. Part of casting it was sacrificing the heart of the thing you love most--and there are more prices yet to pay. Iâm not willing to lose everything, but Regina was. So it is her curse. She rules this land until it breaks.â
Jeffersonâs jaw clenched. âYou said something like that before, back home. You said something about a Savior. Itâs that Sheriff, isnât it? The woman with the yellow bug?â
Rumpelstiltskin blinked. âHow did you know that?â
âShe came to town in October. Thatâs when things started changing around here. The clock on the library started moving, people started doing things they havenât done before--not in twenty-eight years of living the same lives. Now there are people in town now Iâve never seen before.âÂ
âWho?â Rumpelstiltskin asked. âThe only new person Iâve seen is Emma.â
Jefferson shrugged. âThereâs the guy carrying on with the schoolteacher, I donât know who he is.â
âThatâs Prince Charming,â he explained. âHe was in the hospital until just after Emma came to town, in a coma.âÂ
âWerenât you all?â Jefferson said dryly. âOkay, Iâve got another one for you. Around New Yearâs, a guy rode in on a motorcycle, definitely an out-of-towner. He stuck around too. Do you know who he is?â
Rumpelstiltskinâs lips parted, but he said nothing. A stranger came into Storybrooke? That shouldnât have happened. This place was supposed to be isolated from the rest of the Land Without Magic. The only people who could enter were people who were already connected to the old world, people who were born there.Â
But if there was a young man who could enter the town freely, who had willingly stayed in this cursed place...
Before he could ask Jefferson more questions, the bell over the shop door rang again.Â
âMy God, it is cats and dogs out there!â Mrs. Gold stood on the front carpet. Water dripped off the plastic shopping bags in her hands. The rain had plastered all her thin layers against her skin. She looked bedraggled and cold, and Rumpelstiltskinâs first desire was to get her out of those wet things and into a bath, to give her hot chocolate and wrap her in a blanket.
It was only when Jefferson took a step back that Rumpelstiltskin realized how close they had been. Too close for any two men to be standing together in this world, and far too close for Gold to allow anyone who wasnât wearing handcuffs.Â
Mrs. Goldâs crystalline eyes took in the sight of them. Jefferson clutched Goldâs pocket square in his fist. Rumpelstiltskinâs hands still held out in mid-air, reaching for the younger manâs body. In an endless instant, he saw the shock on her face, the realization, the anger.
Then he saw her close herself off. It was like the turn of a lock, or the extinguishing of a flame. She went dead behind the eyes. When she spoke, her voice was thin.
âSorry to interrupt your business, Mr. Gold. I just needed to come in out of the rain.â
âOf course,â he said automatically. He was too stunned to move. âBut you werenât interrupting anything, Mrs. Gold.â
Her lips pressed together at that. She said nothing, but looked up and down the length of Jeffersonâs body. Then she moved past them both to get to the back of the shop.Â
Once she was behind the curtain, Rumpelstiltskin allowed himself to sigh. Closing his eyes, he shook his head. Though that was not the worst way this situation could have gone, it was still far from optimal.Â
Jefferson let out a low whistle. With a meaningful glance to the back office, he said: âSo can I expect your call about the merchandise I requested?â
Limping back to the cash register, Rumpelstiltskin pulled out a notepad and a pen. He passed them over the counter to Jefferson. âCertainly, Mr. Dodgson. If youâll give me your address, I can have it delivered to your house.â
He wrote down a series of numbers and an address: 316 Angus Drive. âJust let me know when itâs ready.â His voice lowered. âIâll be waiting.â
Rumpelstiltskin nodded. âAs soon as I can, my boy.â  Â
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