#fat german kid meme

[blasterdude80]

So people are drawing Hatsune Miku in different countries and states and stuff?

Well, I just so happen to be a fan of Vocaloid!

Behold! German Miku!

(i was gonna add The Noid because of that one collab they did and because Yo! Noid! 2 exists but I decided not to.)

[creeperchild]

Some Funtime Freddy headcanons my dudes:

-He is 5"7 tall. He basically looks like a fat angry Hamster instead of a polar bear.

-He has just 4 faceplates of 1 instead of 6 by 2.

-Has a extra right Hand that is attachable instead of Bon-Bon

-He is a complete glutton, any type of sweet will get him going.

-Sometimes super hyper but tired at the same time. Coffee makes him more tired.

-If somebody bothered him he will say it in an Instance. He swears alot, thats why he is not Renten often. He called a kid "shithead" for being a complete ass to the bday boy.

-He loves birthday but not his own.

-Lover of memes and Video games. Bullet hell, rage games, horror and creative games are his thing.

-If somebody asks if he abuses Bon-Bon, he gets pissed and throws the person out. He loves his little bunny buddy.

-Is smart and dumb at the same time. He can ramble in detail about the french Revolution while pulling on a door that CLEARLY has a sign that says: push.

-Quiet anxious.

-Gets pissed easily.

-Can talk fluent in english and german. He was build in germany and grew up in. america.

-Screams many times a day. For no reason

-If he thinks a noise is funny he will use his voice recenition to copy it. So expect monkey screams in the middle of the night.

-Not the social butterfly around adults. Even tho he is 24.

-Cant sing but is a pretty decent comedian.

-He do also arts and crafts. Gets covered on glue usually.

-Bon-Bon and him are besties.  Bon-Bon is as nuts as him but not as Vokal about it.

-Yes, he murdered Millie. Brags even about it and says it's a christmas Story because it happend on christmas.

-Wants attention but wanna be left alone at the same time.

-Hates water but loves snow.

-Is a hypocrit. Saying something you should or shouldn't do and then he is doing the opposite 5 minutes later.

-He is super petty. If he is renten out and the family aren't as nice as they should be and they have a spoiled brat, he puts a piece of underwear, that he stole from the last family  he was rented from and place it somewhere. But also takes another piece of underwear from them for next family. He does it for years. Rumors has it that the rental are cursed and cause divorces. Not the children murders tho.

-He could replace an entered kitchen just by his stomache. A heater and freezer, knifes etc. are in his inside. He has also bioacid in a specific container in the back.

-There is no off Button. If he is "shutt down" he just pretends.

-He loves to do random shit just to confuse people. He thinks it's amusing.

-He is more a cat person. Not by choice tho. Dogs just see him as a oversized chewing toy.

Relationship wise he:

-is neutral

He is cheery and excited to greet you. The neutral phase will not stay long tho. He can tell within minutes if you are friend or foe.

Usually there is no threat unless you are in his way or his target.

-dislikes you

Oh boy. You will feel the tension and the poisonous stares from him. He stays super quiet and keep an eye on you.

He can be quiet mean spirited when he thinks about to prank you. Dogpoop in a bag is friendly to that. Depends how much he doesn't like you will decide if you wake up on a schoolday and all your clothes missing or both of your legs.

-Hates you

You don't even have time to dig your own grave. You are his next victim and he will makes sure your last breaths will be in his presence. The best option to survive public places. There is ALWAYS a chance he will show up when you are alone. Out of nowhere. If you have luck he will smash your skull in. But it could also be his personal Vendetta against you and will unleash his sadistic torture methods upon you.

-likes you

You actually catched him on his good side. He gets quiet happy when he noticed your presence. He will remember your bday and will be the first one to congratulate you. Children are always on this level. No matter what.

- really likes you

Oh vip friendship over here. He will become more intense with his goofy and carelessly side. He can babble for hour with you and will listen what problems you having. He usually can solve those issues of yours because of personal experience. He was usually the cause of the problem but yeah. He even allowes you to get close to Bon-Bon and Bonnet. Random things he found will be given to you as a "present". It's stuff he stole from the homes he is renten for. How thoughtful!

-loves you!

Christ! The killer bear has a crush on you and he NEEDS to show it to you. He will confessed as soon as possible to you and hopes for the best answer. If you would agree with going out with him he couldn't get happier! He will sqeak and speak and bounce around. Over the next weeks he will get used to be in a realationship starts flirting with you. Every opportunity he will use his charm to fluster you. He is addicted to make you blush. Calling you cute names instead of your actual name. The gifts will be also more from the romantik type. He would buy you gift like roses or plushies. If he can't buy it, he steals money to buy it. If he cant steal money, he kidnaps a child and threatend the parents with a letter that he gonna murder the child if they dont pay ( cheap roses price such as 5 bucks) he thinks it's a win win scenario. After a few months he will get into the personal stuff. How many murder he did etc. Mortephying isn't it? He trust you now completly and do whatever makes you happier. He also says random "I love you"

[1plus3isb]

Random Matt Headcanons because I can.

I said this in a different post but I think Matt is a cisgender disaster bisexual.

Zelda&Link were his bisexual awakening. Twilight Princess would’ve came out when he was a teen (13 if you go by anime, 16 with the manga), so like. Totally fits.

He is left handed.

He’s 💯 an otaku too. Loves anime.

Taken away from his family because they were abusive.

I also read somewhere (okay actually I looked it up because I’m obsessive) a long time ago that Jeevas is a German last name and idk if that’s true but I’ve headcanoned him as German ever since.

Learned Japanese at some point so he can A) watch anime in Japanese, B) buy games only released in Japan, and C) to speed run shit.

I also feel like he’d be into cosplay, but sticks to video game related ones. Has 💯 done a Ganon and a Bowser cosplay.

Bonus thought: him convincing Mello&Near to dress up to go to a convention together. Mello is Link (no preference to which Link), Matt is Ganon, and Matt convinces Near to dress up as Ghirahim.

Wind Waker is his favorite LoZ game.

He would’ve been a pro twitch streamer if he had survived.

He would also be up to date on all the memes/lingo circulating online.

Matt is not a thin boy. I’ve always seen him as being at least somewhat fat.

Also with appearance I’ve always liked the red haired/green eyed version of him. 🤷🏻‍♀���

Tattoo guy, but all are nerdy themed. Specific ones I like for him are:

A pacman anklet. Like, Pacman being chased by the ghosts? Maybe with some pacpellets on there too? Or maybe vice versa? Pacman chasing blue ghosts to nom on? Something like that.

The hearts&magic bar from Wind Waker on his left wrist.

TRIFORCE TRAMP STAMP. And I don’t mean just the triangle. THIS KIND.

Also a stick&poke somewhere of a simple triforce, probably given to him by Mello when they were kids.

I could honestly probably do a whole page for Mello&Near too 😂 and this doesn’t include anything nsfw that I headcanon 😂 enjoy.

[the-very-rubiest]

.... tumblr's doing the thing again where it deletes or reloads the page in the middle of an ask. I just wanted to say I got your ask (and Laura's, hi!) and I definitely didn't cry about it, no! And I need to go to sleep now (or yk, an hour ago) but have some random distractions before you get your results (which will be FINE of course! 😌🍀🦝💖)

Good night, sleep well, your results will be fine I'm sure ✨🍀💖🦝🌈💗💜💙

I—did you just dump your whole meme folder into my askbox? Amazing. This is delightful. I didn't expect this at all, you're the best 💕💞💗

Losing it at the owl that's too fat to fly 😭 And the terrible rhyme! Also love how the comic you sent me is a Ruthe comic, i.e. originally in German, but for whatever reason you sent me the Russian translation and I understood it. Reading Cyrillic my beLOATHED. I feel it though, kitty is a priority ✨

Meanwhile, WTF is that chicken doing? What is that thing it's holding? Why did the chicken cross the road??? I need answers!

THE TRUCK OMG I'm showing that pic to my dad STAT. The Asterix comics were my childhood (along with Tintin), thanks for the memory. My dad and I are constantly quoting them at each other, he's gonna love this! (The license plate though—)

The cat! Story time! Let me tell you something! So I don't know if you know this but I used to have two cats for some years as a kid. One of them was a former stray that refused to be kept inside. The other was an Idiot (affectionate) and during the Christmas season, guess what he did? Climb. The. Damn. Tree. Constantly. Miraculously he never knocked it over, mostly because we had a string of bells on the tree so every time we heard the jangle-jangle-jangle I sprinted over at Mach 5 yelling "TIGER! GET DOWN THERE!" and picking him off like an overripe fruit. For some reason he still kept doing it because…cats, I guess?

(Fun fact: that same idiot also always stole some ornaments from the lower branches and played with them like they were cat toys. We kept finding random straw ornaments scattered around the place until like…June.)

And then the BC pics! Love how they're all sweet and adorable, then there's that One (1) blurry screencap of Little Gremlin sneaking the pizza. Very relatable. Although I'm not sure if the Joonas-and-dog pic is cute or slightly concerning, they both look pretty tired…

(Pot, kettle, much?)

Thank you! All of these really did cheer me up and made me laugh and smile, thanks, I needed this ❤️ Glad to hear my ask moved you too! And now we both sleep. Good night, you weird little raccoon, sweet dreams and may tomorrow be a good day for both of us!

[justsomeoneunordinary]

4, 5, 6, 13, and 15?

4. favourite dish specific for your country? 

switzerland: the day i have to decide between fondue and raclette has yet to come. both amazing tasty cheese - reclette is a bit lighter and doesn’t stuff you as much, but fondue on the other hand has wine. mhhh...

serbia: when i found out as a kid that all my favorite serbian food isn’t even serbian but turkish (serbia and turkey have a long history), my poor lil heart broke. i just love sarma and musaka sooo much - but both are turkish lmao. uhm... so basically our meat? we have damn fucking great meat, mainly because it has a lot of fat (which is unhealthy, but tasty) and oh boy, soo much garlic and onions! so, yeah. meat it is lol.

5. favourite song in your native language? 

switzerland: there are four official languages, but since i’m from the german speaking part: anything ‘mani matter’ ever produced. he’s a legend, all his songs are iconic and “i ha es zündhölzli azündt” is simply a genius masterpiece. it sounds very silly for those who don’t understand it, but the words have such a deep meaning. he was way ahead of his time...

serbia: i adore the good old folk songs, but i suddenly forgot every single folk song in existence ever. so i’ll say “kad sam bio mlad” by ‘riblja čorba’ who are the only serbian band who does punk-rock -ish songs, so i have a lotta love for those guys.

6. most hated song in your native language? 

switzerland: if i have to hear “bring en hei” by ‘baschi’ ever again i will fucking scream. it’s a stupid football-song which is reason alone to be annoying af, but on top of that i just hate baschi so fucking much.

serbia: “oj milice, čobanice” by ‘era ojdanić’ for personal reasons.

13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders?

okay, so i was thinking super long about this one, but my mind went blank, so i went googling lol. most of the stuff i heard for the first time myself, but here’s this:

switzerland: we have in zürich every year in april (not this year ofc) a parade called “sächsilüte” to celebrate spring where at the end a giant snowman - the “böögg” - made of explosives is set aflame and you wait till the head explodes. the longer it takes, the longer the next winter will be according to the saying. it’s fun for kids and tourists, but i haven’t watched it in years anymore.

there are sure a whole lot of interesting traditions in serbia, but i’m only once a year there and i couldn’t think of anything atm, and google wasn’t helpful either. i do remember having to drink a sip of wine on christmas even as a kid, which might be considered weird? i know the christmas traditions are completely different, but we don’t celebrate it here at all, so yeah. idk *shrugs*

15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get? 

switzerland: say “chuchichästli”! every swiss will make you try to say chuchichästli bc it’s the most difficult word we have to pronounce. here’s the joke tho: we don’t use that word. it exists, it’s there, it’s a swiss word - i have never ever heard anyone actually use it. it means kitchen-box - what even is that?? so, yeah. it’s the most useless and yet most known word lol.

no idea for serbia - i barley keep up with the newest slangs since i’m there only once a year and not at all this year.

-

send me an ask!

[chroma-imp]

Here are all I thought were funny, hope it's not too much. 1, 3, 12, 16, 19, 30 and 36?

1. who’s your celebrity crush?

why are you asking me this, you know I don’t have celebrity crushes. the ultimate betrayal right here

3. rant. just do it

I don’t know what you expected but recently I’ve been reminded of cringe compilations about art again and I’m so mad. They were quite popular a few years ago, especially on youtube and they’d basically consist of making fun of people who weren’t great artists but had the audactiy to upload it to the internet. That shit was basically just shaming kids or even adults for not being good at something they enjoyed doing for?? no reason?? How much of a dick do you have to be to make fun of like 12 year olds who just like Sonic and want to share their sonic OCs on deviantart or something? Why do you have to publicly humiliate people for this? what kind of joyless, hateful little gremlin do you have to be to basically monetise ridiculing literal children? Disgusting. And usually those things were made by adults, mostly adults who either weren’t showing their own art or weren’t even drawing at all. Why should anyone care about their opinions? god I’m glad that trend is at least less popular now.

12. what’s the most interesting schools gossip you’ve ever heard? 

I don’t remember if I heard this while we were still in school or afterwards, but it is about people from school so I’m gonna count it. I heard that from one couple that was together for a several years, the guy apparently had been cheating for a while and got the girl he cheated with pregnant and then he and his girlfriend broke up. That was wild and I don’t even know if that was true.

16. if you had to get a tattoo right now, what would you get and where?

I would totally get a flower with some leafy vines to cover the fat scar on my left hand. I think that would slap

19. what’s your favorite teacher you’ve ever had?

we had this one German teacher for so long, and she’s probably one of the nicest teachers I’ve ever had. especially in lower grades she managed to make everything super fun and interesting, and I really appreciate her for that.

30. if you had to dye your hair an unnatural color right now, what would you choose?

dark red, but like a cold red.

36. what do you think you’d be arrested for?

i don’t know if you get arrested for that but like...illegal streaming lol

Thanks for asking, darling!

Asks from this ask meme

[ifishouldvanish]

The Boston Hour (19/?)

In which Belle is an Antiques Roadshow super-fan and Gold is her favorite appraiser.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Belle arrives in Syracuse on Friday, which is just fine. RATING: T WORDS: 10,132 TMI’s: [boop] A/N: So... apparently it's been almost 2 months since I updated this updated literally anything? Oops.

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Read on AO3]

Rumford was only pretending to read the arts and culture section of the Syracuse Tribune.

What he was actually doing, was sneaking glances across the table at his son, who he was pretty sure was only pretending to be preoccupied with his phone.

Rumford would let his eyes glaze over a review of the local theatre’s production of A Doll’s House for a few minutes, then chance to peer over the A2-sized newsprint held taut in his hands. Their eyes would meet, and Neal would hurriedly take a bite out of his bagel and snap his attention back to his phone– as though he were engaged in some lively conversation via text.

Which was preposterous, because it was only seven-thirty in the morning.

Rumford had chosen his outfit with confident care last night– his purple shirt and his black pinstriped suit (not that pinstriped suit, but the other one, with the finer, more subtle pinstripes)– and as he got dressed this morning, he felt certain that Belle would fancy him quite a dish when she arrived in the afternoon.

Was downright giddy with the thought while he made himself his morning cup of tea.

Neal had dragged his feet down the stairs and into the kitchen some minutes later– and after watching him stare blankly at the open fridge for far too long, scratching at the patchy bit of scruff that had only begun to properly grow in last year, Rumford realized the unique opportunity that had been presented to him.

He’d still been waiting for the right time to share his special bit of news. And between his son’s groggy state, and his own unusually optimistic disposition, Rumford thought he just might be able to get the damned words out before his nerves caught up with him and ruined everything!

He could sneak it in somewhere, undetected, perhaps. “Good morning, son! I’m bisexual! D’ye sleep well last night?”

And Neal would grumble and shrug. “Huh? Oh, yeah, whatever, sure.”

And that’s when he would make his exit– “Anyway, I’d better get going! Shop isnae gonna open itself!” (That Miss Halloran had a set of keys and came in the same time he did was beside the point.)

It probably wouldn’t be until hours later, that Neal would even realize what he’d heard– and by then, Rumford would safely be twenty or so miles away from his son’s reaction, writing an insurance valuation for a collection of authentic German cuckoo clocks!

Yes, yes. That was how it was all supposed to unfold.

But what Rumford hadn’t counted on, was for Neal to be on such high alert. It was putting him on high alert.

Killing the vibe, as his son might say.

Rumford skimmed over the newspaper spread again.

An advertisement for the local symphony orchestra. A rundown of affordable entertainment in the area this month. An interview with Cora Mills, touting on about the new collection she was unveiling at the museum of fine arts next week. He’d actually read that one– curiosity having gotten the better of him. The thing was riddled with all her name-dropping and humble-bragging about what a challenge it was to curate the thing; casual mentions of how a not-so-modest personal contribution from the Mills family had made it possible for the museum to acquire that Picasso– which really ties the whole collection together, don’t you think?

Rumford let out a derisive huff through his nose and peered over the top of the newspaper again.

His own eyes looked back at him.

They darted away again, and Rumford’s finger twitched– hand reaching for his teacup to take a sip. This too, was preposterous, because his teacup was already empty– and had been the last four times he’d tried to drink from it.

He managed to stop himself, and drummed his fingers on the table instead.

The whole scenario was preposterous, damn it.

He’d come out to Belle like it was nothing that night in Storybrooke. So why was it, that he couldn’t get the words out in front of his boy?

He just needed to say it. Get it over with and off his chest.

So he coughed.

“Son,” he began before he could change his mind, “There’s… something I’d like to… discuss with you.”

Neal looked up at him, chewing on his everything bagel. Thoroughly.

Far more thoroughly than Rumford had ever seen him chew before.

“What’s up?” he finally asked, swallowing and dusting poppy seeds off his fingers. “Is it that renaissance artists-Ninja Turtles meme I posted on Facebook?”

Rumford furrowed his brows.

“‘Cause look–” Neal continued, “I know their namesakes are completely wrong. How they named the turtle with the short temper after Raphael and not Michelangelo– or the nerdy inventor turtle after Donatello and not Leonardo– is a massive oversight. I mean, Donatello was one of the forerunners of the Italian Renaissance! Why they didn’t name the leader of the turtles after him is beyond me! But it’s just a kid’s show, Pop.” He shrugged and tore another bite off of his bagel, returning to his phone. “Try not to look at it too closely.”

Rumford tilted his head. Was willing to admit he was at least mildly curious about these turtles now.

To himself.

He scowled back at his newspaper and turned the page. “No. It’s… I uh…” He shook his head, growing so terribly annoyed with himself. “Well, the thing is, is that… I um…”

I want you to know that I’m bisexual! I like men! And ladies! I used to have a big, fat crush on Jefferson, and in retrospect, I have definitely on at least two occasions purchased a new shirt and tie specifically because I thought he would like them on me!

Rumford swallowed hard. “I just…”

Did he? Did he used to have a crush on Jefferson? Or did he still have a crush on Jefferson?

How did these things even work?

Surely an attractive, charming person didn’t cease to be an attractive, charming person just because you met another attractive, charming person with whom you shared something special. Right?

Did it even matter?

After all, what was a silly crush compared to what he shared with Belle? Compared to love? To that feeling of trust and being wholly accepted by another person? Belle had said it herself, how she hadn't even told her best friend about her bisexuality because it felt like it just didn’t matter– so why should it be anyone’s business but his own that when he checked his emails every morning, he used to secretly hope there’d be one from Dr Bellamy? And how he'd quietly relished the first time he closed one of those emails with not just regards or warm regards, but warm-est regards.

“I…” Rumford began reaching for his empty teacup again.

Neal looked up from his phone again with raised brows, and Rumford could feel his nerves dragging the words back down to the pit of his tempestuous stomach.

There were some things that not even pinstripes could help.

“...Pop?” he asked. “You okay there?”

“Ah– yes!” Rumford cleared his throat. “See, I… I wanted to tell you... that I… love you very much!” he blurted.

There was a beat of silence, and Neal smothered a snort. “Uh… okay.” he said, easing his shoulders and taking another bite out of his bagel. “I love you too, Pop.”

The moment gave Rumford enough of a false sense of relief to nod and smile. But soon the table grew quiet.

Much too quiet.

“And–” he added, “I’m very, very proud of you!”

“Oh.” Neal covered his mouth as he mumbled around his food. “Cool. Thanks.”

“I just… wanted you to know that,” Rumford said– and he finally cracked and took that imaginary sip from his empty cup. “I-in case I don’t say it enough.”

Neal nodded slowly. Had the mind this time to finish chewing and swallow before reassuring him with a, “You do.”

“Good.” Rumford coughed and glanced at the watch he wasn’t wearing. “Anyway, I’ve got to get going. Open the shop an’ all that.”

“Yup. You go do that, Pop.”

“Aye,” he said, rising from his seat. “Gonnae… do that.”

Neal rolled his eyes and dropped what was left of his bagel onto his plate with an exasperated sigh. “Are you alright, dad?”

Rumford pretended to be too busy tucking in his chair to answer.

“...Aye. Aye!” he answered belatedly. “Of course!” Added a, “Why do ye ask?” for the effect of it.

Neal froze, a flash of sudden terror striking his eyes.

“Uh– Because– No reason!” he stammered. “You just… I don’t know! You’re like… quiet lately! And? You… you keep saying everything is fine! Which is like, highly suspicious. Because you’re you.”

Rumford darted his eyes around the kitchen and pouted his lips, feeling too exposed to deny anything.

Neal slowly relaxed back into his chair. “Is… is everything okay? With that… lady?” he whispered, as though someone might be eavesdropping.

Ha! Rumford thought. Of course!

His behavior had nothing at all to do with his semi-closeted bisexuality! He was just nervous about his visit from Belle!

A perfect alibi!

“That lady’s name is Belle,” Rumford corrected, grasping onto the red herring just handed to him. “And rest assured that things between us are…”

Magical?

Pure bliss?

Like a warm ray of sunshine on even his dullest of days?

Serious?

“Well, they’re more than fine.”

Neal eyed him skeptically for a moment, then smiled. “...Gross.”

“Make sure your room is nice and tidy, by the way,” Rumford said. “She’s–”

“I know, I know. This is your–” Neal took a deep breath and sighed. “Big weekend.” he finished with clearly feigned enthusiasm. “But don’t worry, Pop– my room will be the perfect balance of clean, yet lived-in.”

Rumford smiled. “I would appreciate that, thank you.” he said, beginning to clear the table.

“Uh… hey.” Neal coughed. “Why don’t you go on and head to the shop already? I can clean up.”

Rumford proceeded to wipe the crumbs off the edge of the table and onto his empty plate. “No, no. It’s fine. I still have a few minutes–”

“But I want to.” Neal insisted forcefully, donning a stiff smile.

Rumford paused and tilted his head at him. Could feel another knot beginning to form in his stomach.

“You’ve been cleaning up after me for eighteen years, Pop. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh.” He blinked, shakily setting his plate back down. “O-okay.”

What was this? Rumford thought. Was there some kind of covert Stepford Sons program happening under his nose?

“I can sweep the floors and shi– stuff, too.” Neal offered. “Even pick up your dry cleaning– that way you’re all set to look sharp for your girlfriend this weekend.”

Rumford scoffed. “Now you’re beginning to sound highly suspicious.”

Neal stood up and crossed the table, maintaining an unsettling degree of eye contact while he took the plate and teacup from him. “Yeah, well… I start moving into my dorm next week. If I’m going to survive art school, I need to learn how to give off an air of mystery.”

Rumford cautiously slid his jacket off the back of his chair. “Alright… well that case, the baseboards in the bathroom could use some mystery.” he said, poking his arms through his sleeves. “We should make it back here at–”

“Perfect.” Neal smiled. “Say no more, this place will be spotless for when mom gets here.”

Rumford stopped buttoning his jacket. “What?”

Neal froze. “...What?”

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing.”

“You said–”

“I said the place’ll be spotless.” he repeated.

Rumford took a deep breath. Considered his next move.

“Your… mother told me she was staying at a hotel,” he said innocently, as if the whole thing was of no concern to him– but make no mistake, it very much was of great concern.

There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence before Neal barked out a laugh. “Did I just say mom? I meant Belle, obviously.” he scoffed. “God. So embarrassing, right? You ever call a teacher ‘mom’ on accident? It’s so weird!” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “S’like, ‘Thanks brain! Just what I needed! Another horrifying memory to keep me up at night twenty years from now!’ ...Right?”

Rumford slowly resumed his buttoning. “Right…”

Neal noisily tossed the dishes in the sink and spun around. “Anyway, yeah. You should get going.” he said. “Wouldn’t wanna be late– Boss’ll never let you hear the end of it, am I right?”

Rumford brushed his hair out from his collar and scoffed, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. “I’ll have you know that I am very lenient with my employees, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, but it’s best to lead by example, I always say.” Neal said, beginning to shoo him out of the kitchen and down the hall. “Have a great day, dad! Sell lots of old stuff!”

Rumford balked at the front door, refusing to step outside just yet.

His son never said “ best to lead by example”!

“Neal. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

He scoffed. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Rumford’s hand drifted up to his lapel, but there was nothing there– no pink and purple and blue to answer for him– so he just narrowed his eyes, ignoring the way his conscience wrenched his heart in protest of the lie he was about to tell his son. “...No.”

“Then neither is there nothing I’m not telling you, either.” Neal said.

Rumford furrowed his brows, trying to decide whether or not that response was even grammatically correct.

Decided it was too early in the morning for that.

“...I have to get to the shop.” he said at last.

“Okay!” Neal said, already closing the door in his face. “Later Pop! Have a good day!”

“You too–”

Thwack!

Rumford flinched and blinked at the door in front of him.

His son was up to something. Hiding something. Of this he was certain.

Nevertheless, a smile soon crept over his face, reflecting back at him in the glass.

Belle was coming today.

He was going to woo her. Sweep her off her feet. Tell her little nothings that would make her giggle and blush.

He was going to have a great day.

*****

MR GOLD

PAWNBROKER • ANTIQUITIES DEALER • PERSONAL PROPERTY APPRAISER • CONSERVATION & RESTORATIONS Certified and accredited by the ISA, ASA, and AAA.

Belle smiled at the lettering on the shop’s window, feeling a ridiculous sense of pride over Rumford’s qualifications. Personal property appraisers in the United States didn’t require any state or federal licensing in order to practice, so that Rumford still took the Uniform Standards of Professional Appraisal Practice seriously enough to maintain membership in all three major professional personal property appraisal associations was, well– undeniably sexy.

It had been a long, albeit scenic drive from Storybrooke, and as Belle had made her way down South Salina Street, she found it no wonder that Rumford had chosen Syracuse’s historic district to open his shop. She could recognize all sorts of architectural styles from the buildings she passed– Victorian Gothic, Art Deco, and Beaux-Arts! Italian Renaissance Revival and Italianate!

She’d found Rumford’s shop in a charming Federal style building and managed to secure herself a parking spot right in front.

Her man was waiting inside.

All there was left to do was walk in.

Oh, she’d dreamt of this day. More than a few times.

She’d open the door and step inside, her heels thumping loudly on the hardwood floors announcing her arrival. He’d be in the corner, dusting off some trinket, and pause to look at her.

“Hello,” he’d say. “Please, come in. Is there anything I can help you with?”

As a matter of fact, yes– there is,” she’d say, approaching him closely. “...Dr Gold.”

He’d admire her chutzpah. Stop and set down the piece he was dusting. Wet his lips. “And what might that be, dearie?” he’d ask with one of those crooked smirks on his face.

She’d gently drag a finger along the length of his tie before giving it a sharp tug, pulling him toward her. “This,” she’d tell him, and she’d press her lips to his, and he’d be totally into it, and they’d make out and end up doing it in an antique chair or something.

At least, that’s how it usually played out in her dreams. But this was no dream. She was really here, and she’d already made out with Rumford one and a half times in actual, real life.

No, no. This would be very different.

Because she was in love.

She was going to walk in there and give him a peck on the cheek– and he was going to blush and smile and just look so cute!

Belle opened the door, and a bell jingled musically overhead.

It was bigger than she was expecting, filled with bookcases and cabinets that blocked her view. They were all filled to the brim with little trinkets in a charming cacophony of sizes, colors, uses, and styles. The shelves and armoires formed little walls around staged dining and living room sets– some matching, while others were made up of eclectically paired end tables, sofas, and accent chairs, forming their own little found families. Heavy oak desks were scattered about, each of them topped with an old typewriter and no less than two antique lamps. Clocks and paintings covered the walls, while little frames and other such Objets d’Art covered every available surface.

Belle’s eyes settled on a glass cabinet filled with books, and she drifted toward it without a thought. Encyclopedia sets and atlases took up most of the shelves, but the remaining space was occupied by the likes of Mark Twain, Hannah Crafts, Louisa May Alcott, and Edgar Allan Poe.

She couldn't help herself. Reached a hand out to open the cabinet and–

“Looking for Mr Gold?”

Belle jumped and pulled away from the case, finding a young woman with blonde hair smiling at her. Her loose flannel and combat boots were a far cry from Rumford’s suits, and a stark contrast to the elegance and delicacy of the furnishings that surrounded them.

“Well– you won’t find him in there,” the girl chuckled, leaning against the case and patting an hand on it. “This here is just reference books and American literature.”

“...O-oh.” Belle managed. Words were hard when one's heart had just leapt out of their chest.

“In fact, you won’t find Mr Gold anywhere,” she said, hiking her brows.

“I-I’m sorry,” Belle said, “This is his shop, isn’t it?”

“Well, of course it is.” She nodded at the lettering on the window. “It’d be bonkers if it wasn’t– seeing as it’s got his name on the window an’all.”

Belle looked back and forth between the window, the girl.

This wasn’t how she imagined her first visit to Rumford’s shop at all. Was expecting a lot more… Rumford.

“You’re Belle,” the girl said, and extended a hand. “Name’s Tilly.”

“It’s… lovely to meet you, Tilly.” Belle slowly shook her hand, feeling more confused by the second.

Where was Rumford?

Sure, she was over an hour early– but she had an excuse for driving well over the speed limit!

Whoever decided that sixty miles an hour was an appropriate speed for a three lane highway, clearly never had to drive an excess of 400 miles to spend time with a man as charming and sexy as Rumford!

Anyone would develop a lead foot!

A set of heels began clacking across the floor, and Belle snapped her head around to look. Strutting toward them was another young woman, with bright red hair. She was dressed far more professionally in a pencil skirt and silk blouse, but as she got closer, Belle noticed she was wearing glasses with magnifying loupe attachments that made her look like some sort of mad scientist.

“Welcome to Mr Gold’s pawn and antiques!” she greeted brightly, extending a manicured hand. “I’m Ariel. What can I help you with today?”

Belle glanced anxiously around the shop– hoping a familiar, handsome face would come and sweep her away. “Um… well, I–”

“Psst.” Tilly nudged Ariel’s side and whispered something into her ear.

Her brows creased. And then, “Oh!” she gasped, “Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh,” Tilly nodded and cupped her hands over Ariel’s ear, whispering something too hushed for Belle to make out– something about pie?

A smile slowly spread across Ariel’s face. “You’re Belle?” she asked, and Belle didn't have anywhere near enough time to answer before she went, “Oh, this is so exciting! I mean, wow! Look at you! You're like, really cute!”

“Oh.” Belle chuckled uncomfortably, wrapping her arms around herself. “Uh… th… thank you?”

“But gosh!” Ariel shook her head, as if snapping out of a trance. “You must be looking for Mr Gold!”

“Yes!” Belle leapt at the mention of his name.

Yes, yes! Rumford! Where was Rumford? She needed to give him a kiss so she could see him blush! And maybe tell him she loved him! Was it too soon for that?

“I mean, yes,” she cleared her throat and smoothed out her skirt. “I um... I am.”

“I’m sorry!” Ariel laughed. “You're a bit early. Mr Gold is out on a house call at the moment. He should be back in–” she squinted at her wrist watch, blinking and shaking her head before adjusting one of the loupes out of the way so she could see properly. “...About fifteen minutes.”

Belle frowned. “A house call, you said?”

Ariel struggled to blink her eyes into focus a second time before giving up and taking her glasses off. “Yeah! We get a lot of those, actually. If the client has like, I dunno–” she shrugged, “something big that would be too much of a hassle to bring in?”

“Or a lot of something smalls.” Tilly said. “We once had a guy with a collection of over six hundred model trains.”

Belle’s lips parted, her eyes glazing over as she tried to picture it.

A house call.

Perhaps another place, another time, another universe.

Herself, with a massive collection of things in need of appraising. Rumford knocking at her door, prepared to take inventory of it all. He’d probably walk around with a little clipboard as he inspected each item with care, and she could offer him a cup of tea as he worked. Maybe a storm would hit, and it’d be far too dangerous for him to drive. She would have no choice but to insist he stay for dinner. He’d have no choice but to accept. And then she could ask him if he’d mind it if she changed into something more comfortable. Like a silk négligée.

“But, don’t worry!” Ariel said, squaring her shoulders. “Mr Gold gave me a specific set of instructions for what to do in the event that you arrived before he got back!”

“Oh.” Belle tucked her hair behind her ear, and her silly scenario behind a polite smile.

“The first of those instructions was to offer you a bottle of water and-or a snack.” Ariel explained dutifully, lifting her chin.

She could be the lonely, recent divorcee looking to part with all her ex-husband's material possessions (now hers, of course) so that she could finally pursue her dreams of traveling the world. Rumford could be… Rumford. He'd have to stop by the house a few times– because there'd be so much for him to appraise– and they'd strike up a heated romance. There'd be conversations that got too intimate, looks that lingered too long, until finally– on the last of his visits– they'd fall into bed together. They’d lie in each other's arms afterward, and she'd lace their fingers, look into those brown eyes and whisper, “Come to Paris with me.”

Ariel cleared her throat. “...Might I interest you in a bottle of water or a snack? Belle?”

“Oh. Oh, no thank you.” Belle chuckled and shook her head.

“Mr Gold ordered a charcuterie board fresh from the deli a few blocks down just for the occasion, that's got six different cheeses!” Tilly added to tempt her. “...That’s how you know he cares–” she winked. “He tries to feed you.”

Belle nibbled her lip. “Well, maybe when he gets back,” she said. “We can um, try to feed each other.”

Tilly scrunched her face. “Huh?”

Surely little cuts of cheese would be as sexy and fun to feed Rumford as cookies or strawberries, right? Maybe a dollop of Brie on her finger so he could–

“Alright then!” Ariel clapped her hands together, snapping Belle out of her fantasy again. “The second thing was to give you a brief tour of the building, starting with showing you where the restroom is in case you’d like to use it before we begin.”

“Oh, I’m fi–”

“Right this way, please,” she interrupted, spinning on her heels and heading to the back of the shop. Belle followed after her, dividing her attention between her host and the lovely bits and bobs everywhere. They neared the sales counter, and rows of sparkling watches, rings, and pendants lined the glass case.

“This building was built in 1847 and originally served as the offices for the Syracuse Times newspaper,” Ariel began. “The newspaper went defunct in 1923, and the building was abandoned until 1930– when the city took ownership and repurposed it into low income housing.”

There was sound of a car driving by, and Belle quickly looked over her shoulder to see if it was a certain black Cadillac.

It was a just a Honda.

“During the war,” Ariel continued, “the units were vacated and the building faced neglect, which led it to condemnation in 1944. But then– in 1948– it was purchased back from the city by the Mills family as part of a historic preservation effort. After the repairs were completed, it served as a department store, and throughout the seventies, the upper floors were renovated and converted into luxury apartments. However– as the other buildings in the area continued to decay, so did the value of the here’s the bathroom on your right.”

Ariel stopped abruptly at a door marked Women, and Belle almost stumbled right into her.

“Oh. No, I’m fine.” she assured. “Please, go on.”

Ariel blinked. “Right, then. Where was I?”

Tilly slumped against the wall and folded her arms over her chest. “The part where they tried to gentrify the block for the third, fourth, and fifth times, I believe.”

“Ah.” Ariel smiled. “Yes. You see, this retail space was an art gallery in 1989, a designer boutique in 1993, a posh nightclub from 1994 to 1998, and then another art gallery– all before Dr Gold first leased it in 2003 after having moved from Glasgow with nothing more than his wife and son, two PhDs, three Master’s degrees, and a dream. It’s been Mr Gold’s Pawn and Antiques ever since, making his shop the longest-running business on this block in over fifty years!”

“Oh wow…” Belle marvelled– not that Rumford being a sensible and successful business owner came as any surprise!

“Mr Gold’s Pawn and Antiques has become quite a fixture here in Syracuse’s historic district.” Ariel boasted. “You’ll find it mentioned on several tour programs in the area, and has been featured in several national publications dedicated to the fine practices of pawnbroking, antique collecting, and antique restoration.”

“Some of which I hear have readership in the dozens,” Tilly deadpanned.

Ariel pursed her lips and slowly turned to Tilly with a scolding look. “Anyway, Belle,” she said, “Feel free to have a look around, and if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to–”

“What's it like working with Rumford?”

The question had leapt out of her mouth without her permission, but all her enthusiasm. “You know. Out of uh, curiosity. Because… sixteen percent of couples meet at work? And it's… a side of Rumford I haven't really…” she cleared her throat, “Well, I mean technically he was working when I met him, but–”

“It's amazing!” Ariel squealed. “I was only hired as an assistant, but over the years, Mr Gold has taught me all sides of the business. Pawnbroking, market value appraisals and insurance valuations, jewelry and watch repair...” She leaned in and lowered her voice to a whisper. “He started letting me make inventory purchases last year– I don't even have to check in with him if it costs us less than five hundred dollars!”

Belle laughed with giddy excitement. Could it be, that Ariel shared her enthusiasm for all things Rumford?

“He must think very highly of you,” she said. “I don’t imagine Rumford would entrust such responsibilities to just anyone.”

“You think so?” Ariel asked, and Tilly rolled her eyes. “Because I mean, it’s such a privilege working with Dr Gold. He’s just… the best in the business. You know, my father always used to tell me I was wasting my time hoarding junk. But then one day I saw Dr Gold recount the provenance of a fork on TV– and that’s when I realized I could actually make a career out of it!”

Belle gasped and inched closer. “I remember that episode!”

Of course, she remembered all the episodes– but it wasn’t every day (or any day, for that matter) that she got to talk to someone about the Roadshow!

“Milwaukee Hour Three in 2012?” Ariel asked.

“Mhm! That’s the one!” Belle nodded. “He was wearing a navy suit that day,” she sighed. “Looked so handsome...”

Ariel opened her mouth to speak, but cut herself off. “I… can't say I noticed. But–” she continued, “it was the same Milwaukee event where he appraised a set of antique corkscrews!”

“The ones that came in the cool wooden box!” Belle remembered.

Ariel gasped and pointed an affirming finger at her. “Yes! My favorite was the brass one that looked like–”

“A seashell!” Belle finished.

Ariel’s mouth opened wide into an awestruck grin, and Belle could only mirror it right back.

“I’ve never watched an episode of Antiques Roadshow in my life.”

They deflated then, their little moment over, and turned to look at Tilly.

“Mr Gold caught me trying to steal a Rolex.” she said. “Well, six Rolexes. ”

“Oh my.” Belle raised her brows and blinked. “That sounds like quite a story.”

“Mhm.” she nodded. “He asked me how much I expected to sell ‘em for, and when I told him, he laughed and said they were worth at least a hundred times as much– and that if I wanted to sell them, I might as well do so from behind the counter and earn a proper commision.”

Ariel wrapped an arm around her shoulders affectionately. “Tilly here snuck her way into our jewelry case and into our hearts.”

Tilly returned the gesture, and Belle thought the two of them looked liked sisters, hugging like that. “Working for Mr Gold is like having a second dad, really,” she said. “An awkward, fancy, dad.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Ariel thought out loud. "You know, I had my first Marine ball with my boyfriend last year, and I was telling Mr Gold how nervous I was, because I’d never been to anything fancy like that before? He spent the rest of the week teaching me table etiquette and how to Waltz!” she laughed. “Had me reformed into a proper lady come Friday!”

Belle drew in a deep breath, her mind already sprinting through the possibilities. “...Rumford knows how to ballroom dance?” she asked.

“Mhm!” Ariel nodded. “Said his aunties taught him.” She stared ahead blankly for a moment, then clicked her tongue. “I remember his allergies were really bad that day…”

Tilly snorted and traipsed back over to the sales counter. “I don't think those were allergies.” she said, pulling up a chair and sitting down.

“Uh-huh,” Ariel nodded. “Oh yeah. He said the ragweed was making his eyes–”

“If those were allergies, then he must have also been allergic to the time I told him I got my GED.” Tilly said, slipping her phone out of her pocket and tilting back in her chair.

“No…” Ariel dismissed with a playful roll of her eyes. “He just got a little emotional that day because he was so proud of–”

Tilly raised a brow at her, and Belle found herself smiling again. Did Rumford know his employees saw him as a father figure?

Oh, how she had the mind to kiss him! Again!

...Had it been fifteen minutes yet?

Ariel perked up and pointed a thumb at the door behind the counter. “Anyway, hey– I gotta watch in the back I'm working on right now. You wanna see? It's a vintage Cartier from like, 1930 or something.”

“Oh, I'd love to!” Belle nodded. Here she was, being invited to the back room of Rumford’s shop! Who knew what wonders lied beyond that door!

“Gah, it's so cool!” Ariel squealed, waving Belle over. “Come, come!”

She thrust the door open, and as Belle followed her inside, she didn't know where to look. There were boxes piled high on sturdy shelves and pieces of furniture covered with heavy tarps– some labeled with what she could only imagine were clients’ names.

A stately desk sat to the left, backed by a row of file cabinets, and Belle decided it must be where Rumford spent the better part of his days carrying out the less glamorous side of his work– hunched over a ledger or scattered pages of research with a creased brow.

Ariel led her to a long, wooden workbench on the opposite side of the room. The wall behind it was lined with crowded shelves and cabinets, and tools ranging from the tiniest forceps to the heaviest rubber mallet hung from a segment of pegboard.

“Customer brought this in last week,” she explained, taking her seat and putting her glasses back on. “Now, we only do quartz watch servicing in-house– we don't have the proper facilities to do mechanical watches– but we're taking care of all the cosmetic work on this one before we sending off to our watch guy.”

Belle sat beside her and it was only then that she saw it. The thing had a distinct rectangular face framed by white diamonds and a mesh link band in gleaming white gold.

“It’s beautiful,” she said in a whisper, scooting closer for a better look. “You know, for all the jewelry I've seen on the show– I’ve never actually seen what goes into repairing it.”

Ariel picked it up and held it under the light. “Few of the stones were missing, and a whole bunch of them are loose,” she explained, using a tiny pair of tweezers to point. “It’s a pavé setting, so the tricky part is tightening the prongs for one stone without loosening the stone next to it.”

She gave one of the outermost stones a wiggle to demonstrate, then swapped her tweezers for a pair of pliers and carefully nudged the prong into its rightful place. Belle watched her repeat the process a few times, moving from one stone to the next. At one of them she hesitated, and inspected the watch more closely. “See now, this one’s gone flat,” she said, and Belle tilted her head, squinting to see. “It can’t grip the stone at all, so it's gonna have to be retipped, and that’s a whole other–”

“Miss Halloran?”

Belle’s ears pricked at the sound of his voice.

Rumford. Rumford was back!

“Back here, Mr Gold!” Ariel hollered. She continued to work for a few seconds, then suddenly dropped her tools and jumped to her feet. “I mean, is there anything I can help you with, Mr Gold?” she offered, scurrying to the door. “Hang on, I'll be right–”

Ariel bumped into him at the doorway and froze, but that didn't keep him from peering over her– or rather around, as he she was considerably taller than him in her heels.

“Belle.” he smiled, face poking through the doorway.

Smoothing out her blouse, Ariel took a step back and let him in, Tilly following close behind.

Belle rushed to her feet, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Hi, Rumford,” she smiled back, but her voice only came out as a whisper as she drank up the sight of him.

Oh, what a dish he was! Looking so wonderfully kissable in his purple shirt and pinstripes!

“Oh, Belle,” he smiled again, making his way over and wrapping his arms around her.

Belle closed her eyes, relishing how warm and cuddly his hugs were. And how yummy he smelled. And–  

“How was your trip?” he asked. “Didn't get lost on the–”

She cupped his face in her hands and reached up on her toes to peck him on the lips. “It was just fine,” she assured him.

“I-I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. I tried to be quick, but I-I–”

“Hardly at all.”

“Good,” he relaxed. “That's good.”

Belle swept a lock of hair away from his cheek. “You look really handsome today.” she said softly.

He scoffed and looked away, cheeks shy and pink when he looked back at her. “You have a habit of saying that.”

“Well, you have a habit of looking handsome.”

His smile widened, and Belle felt him grasp her hand– and a tell-tale brush of his thumb against her knuckles let her know what was coming next. “I’d say you have a habit of looking beautiful, but I’m afraid it would be inaccurate; you, sweetheart, simply are beaut –”

Rumford paused with her hand only halfway to his lips when someone cleared their throat, robbing Belle of her kiss.

“You know what, Tilly?” Ariel said. “I think it’s past time we dusted the showroom.”

Tilly frowned. “What do you mean? I just did it the other–”

“I said I think it’s past time we dusted the showroom.” she repeated, jerking her head toward the door.

“Oh!” Tilly gasped. “Right, right.”

Rumford furrowed his brows. “The showroom looks fi–”

“Filthy! I know!” Ariel rolled her eyes emphatically.

“Shameful.” Tilly agreed.

“Anyway, it was lovely to meet you Belle!” Ariel said, opening the door to the closet and grabbing an armful of various cleaners, furniture polishes, and rags.

“Mhm! Charmed!” Tilly added, rolling out the vacuum. The wheels got stuck on the door trim, and she hoisted the thing up, dropping it noisily onto the hardwood floor.

“Easy now!” Rumford winced, “Watch the... floors.”

They hurried out of the room, hollering further niceties until the door slammed shut behind them, leaving Belle and Rumford standing in silence.

He darted his eyes back and forth between her and the door, rubbing a hand over his neck.

Belle bit back a smile, slowly wrapping her arms around him for another hug. She nuzzled against his shoulder and let out a happy sigh when she felt him hug her back.

Rumford's hugs had a way of warming her from the inside out and the outside in! Oh, if only she could fall asleep in his arms like this!

Well, she supposed that in a few hours she probably would be!

Belle slowly pulled away to see his face, and he stared back, the corner of his mouth giving a slight twitch– as though whatever he was feeling couldn’t be contained by his smile. He wet his lips, parted them as if to speak, but hesitated.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I-I got something for you.” he said at last. “A-a gift.”

Belle tried not to grin too widely. “I um, got something for you too,” she said.

“Oh,” he chuckled nervously. “You see, I– well, I was debating when I ought to give it to you, but… well, now you’re here, I– It seems silly to wait.”

Her grin broke free as she laughed, and his cheeks rounded into a smile.

“Well, my gift is um… perishable?” she said. “So–” she slipped away to dig through her bag where she’d set it on the workbench, carefully pulling out a white box. “It's um… Not much, but… well, I tried to remember your favorites.” she said, holding it out to him.

He hesitated, then opened the box.

“Oh, Belle…” he chuckled and shook his head, and Belle’s cheeks were already becoming sore from smiling. Had anyone ever given her as much cause to smile as her Rumford did?

She had a smile on her face yesterday, when she'd stopped by the bakery. But it wasn’t the promise of taking home some white chocolate raspberry cookies that had her in such high spirits, nor the mint chocolate chip, or the salted chocolate chunk and almond. No, no– it was the thought of the look on Rumford’s face when she gave them to him!

“I thought we could um, enjoy them later.” she said, licking her lips while she stared at his own.

“Sweetheart, this is too much.” he smiled.

“We’ll have to share them with the ladies, then.”

“P-please.” Rumford shook his head and walked over to his desk. Setting the box of cookies down, he unlocked one of the drawers and retrieved a small, oblong box adorned with blue ribbon. He had his own eager smile on his face as he walked back over and handed it to her. “O-open yours.”

Belle hesitated before plucking from his hands, immediately noting its weight– and a slight rattle inside that made her heart tingle and her palms sweat.

Jewelry, jewelry, jewelry!

Belle scolded herself for the thought. She was far from materialistic– but the significance of being gifted jewelry by one’s sweetheart wasn’t lost on her, either. Jewelry was serious! They were serious!

“I’m um… guessing it isn’t cookies,” she chuckled, tucking her hair behind her ear.

He wet his lips and blushed, rubbing the back of his neck again. “‘Fraid not.”

She slid the ribbon off the box, and her fingers trembled as she pulled the lid off.

“Oh, Rumford…” she gasped. “It's beautiful.”

A bracelet! A bracelet! A bracelet! Gold! A string of gold with little flowers dangling like fairy lights! Roses! Gleaming! As if the petals had been kissed with morning dew! Jewelry! Shiny!

“I-I saw it and I just… well, I knew I couldn't let it leave this shop unless it was on your wrist.”

She blushed and nibbled her lip, fighting back another smile.

Rumford gave the box a pointed glance. “May I?”

Belle offered her wrist to him and nodded eagerly.

She watched, practically vibrating, as he gingerly removed the bracelet from its box. Sucked in a breath when his fingers brushed against her wrist, warm and rough next to the cold, smooth chain. There was the gentle click as he fastened the clasp, and there it was! A little piece of Rumford she could have with her wherever she went!

She played with one of the little rosebuds, poking it with her finger, and smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

“D-do you like it?” he asked.

“Rumford, I love it. It’s perfect.” she assured him.

She admired it on her wrist again and had a fleeting thought, but oh no. She couldn’t dare.

He caught her sideways glance and tilted his head. “What is it?”

“Could you um… tell me about it?”

A small smile slowly bloomed across his face. “Oh, darling, I'd love to. Please– sit,” he said, gesturing at a lavish settee on the far wall. Its wooden frame was intricately carved with scrolling flourishes and acanthus leaves, and the whole thing looked like it belonged in the decorative arts wing of the Louvre more than it did the cluttered back room of a pawn shop.

Belle stopped short of it and turned around. “I feel as though I shouldn’t be sitting on this,” she admitted.

“No– go on,” he chuckled. “It’s fine. We’ll be reupholstering it next week.”

Belle frowned. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s a French Rococo piece,” Rumford shrugged. He stared at it for a moment and scowled. “That Jacobean upholstery the previous owner had it fitted with is hardly appropriate,” he explained disdainfully, taking her hand and inviting her to sit. “It’s appalling, the sort of things people think they can get away with.”

“Oh,” Belle giggled. “Well, in that case–” she dropped herself onto the seat cushion unceremoniously.

He smiled down at her as he unbuttoned his jacket, but Belle's imagination only had but a few seconds to run with that particular visual before he finished and took his seat beside her.

She gave him a moment to smooth out his tie before squirming against his side, at which point he laid her hand palm-up in his lap and tucked his thumb beneath the chain of the bracelet, rubbing her pulse point.

There was no way he didn't realize what he was doing.

“Perhaps first, sweetheart,” he said, “You might... humor me?”

Belle shifted to face him better and wet her lips. “I'd love to humor you, Rumford.”

He scoffed and looked down at their hands. “I was actually wondering if... you might describe it to me.”

She smiled and tilted her head at him. “I don't understand.”

“For you to look at me and see someone worth your while, Belle– you must see the world far more beautifully, and in such more vivid color, than I do. The things in this shop have become so pedestrian to me over the years. I can't help wondering what it must be like, to see things through your eyes.”

Silly man! she thought. Did he really think she was going to let him get away with speaking such ill of himself?

Belle reached her other hand up to cup his cheek, searched those brown eyes for any hesitation, and when she found none, pressed her lips to his.

“Of course you're worth my while, Rumford,” she told him as she pulled away, and he blushed and smiled just like she imagined he would.

“Oh, Belle, I...” he trailed off and rubbed his thumb into another little circle on her wrist. “Thank you.”

“But let's see now...” Belle pressed her lips together and studied the thing closely. “Well, um… I'd say it looks like an art nouveau piece.” she decided.

He lifted her wrist up and lowered his head to peck it with a kiss. “Then you'd be absolutely, one hundred percent correct, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” she giggled. “Rumford…”

“Go on.” he said. “Explain your rationale, Miss French.”

Belle fought back a smile.

Miss French.

“Well… if it came from this shop, I imagine it must be from no later than than the mid twentieth century, and a floral motif like this would have gone out of favor come the 1920s.”

“Very good.”

“But um… other than that, I'm not so sure. It just… doesn't look like it could be any older than the mid-nineteenth century. I'm afraid I can't articulate why, though.” she admitted with a frown. “I just can't–” she shook her head and laughed. “Oh my, this is going to sound silly, but I just can't picture it being worn by one of the heroines of my Regency novels.”

“That's fine,” he smiled, and shifted beside her. “And perfectly accurate. You see– enamel first surfaced in European jewelry during the baroque period, pioneered by the French artist Jean Toutin of Châteaudun.”

“Oh,” she gasped, feeling her arm break out in goosebumps at his effortless pronunciation.

“However, its popularity never quite rivalled that of diamonds and colored gemstones. Enamel was prone to chipping, and so come the eighteenth century, innovations in cutting techniques made bright, sparkling pieces with brilliant-cut diamonds the standard. Little of these pieces survive, though. Diamonds– due to their immense value– were often refitted and reset into new, more fashionable pieces over time, rather than kept as heirlooms.”

“That’s a shame,” Belle frowned.

“Indeed. You'll find such pieces in museums, but they're incredibly rare in the antique market.”

“Do you have any?” she asked. “Here, in the shop?”

His eyes drifted up to the ceiling as he thought about it. “...Not at the moment, no.”

“Hm,” Belle accepted simply.

He smiled and wet his lips. “Now, while floral motifs gained popularity all throughout the nineteenth century, it wasn't until the rise of art nouveau that jewelers began to really revisit enamel for their designs. The avant-garde weren't concerned so much with the value or longevity of the materials used, as much as they were the merit of the designs themselves. Diamonds were used as accents rather than centerpieces–if at all– as you can see here,” he explained, rolling one of the small rosebuds between his fingers so that the small stone in the center could catch the light.

“I like that about it,” she decided. “Not so flashy.”

“I agree,” he said, and they were so close, and he was so close.

Belle laid her free hand over his, slowly brushing her thumb back and forth over his knuckles.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Her heartbeat quickened at the warmth and nearness of his voice, and she glanced back up at him. “Could you tell me more?”

Rumford scoffed. “Of course,” he said, wrapping his arm around her a little more tightly. “You see, many of these designs possessed all the… eroticism one might expect of any work of art from the movement. Nude women, mermaids and fae– all things far too scandalous or otherwise ostentatious for the average wearer. As a result, art nouveau jewelry was most often worn by glamorous showgirls or demimonde, who were–”

“Unmarried women with sugar daddies.” Belle cut in, wetting her lips.

Rumford smiled. “...That's right.” he said, wetting his own lips and brushing his thumb over her wrist again. “Good girl.”

Belle sank her teeth into her bottom lip and shifted in her seat. “I um, once read a book, where the protagonist was one such woman.”

His mouth curled into a crooked smirk. The same kind of smirk he wore in her dreams, right before they made out.

“That doesn't surprise me one bit, Miss French,” he said.

“Oh?” she teased. “And just what are you saying? Dr Gold?”

Was he being naughty?

“That one often becomes what one reads. And that you, darling, are as ethereal and bewitching as–”

The door to the showroom cracked open, and Ariel's arm reached through the opening, groping for the keyring hanging just beside the light switch.

“Sorry!” she hollered from behind the door, before knocking the keys off of their hook and onto the floor. “Forgot the– Whoops!”

Her hand withdrew, then reappeared along the floor, reaching again.

“Just ignore me!”

“Miss Halloran.” Rumford sighed. “For the love of– just come in, will you!”

Her hand froze, then disappeared again. “Okay!” she said. “I'm coming in!”

The door opened slowly and Ariel tiptoed inside, clearly trying to avert her eyes. She inevitably found them on the settee, and raised her hand in a tiny wave. “...hi.”

Rumford furrowed his brows. “Why is everyone behaving so bizarrely today?”

Ariel tilted her head. “I'm not– Oh!” she giggled and nearly dove to the floor for the keys. “There they are! Sneaky things!” She snapped back up and needlessly smoothed out her blouse. “I’m sorry– Wh-who's being bizarre?”

Rumford looked at the clock and sighed. “It’s four o'clock on a Friday.”

“Mhm,” she nodded. “Sure is, Mr Gold.”

“I think we're all eager to see ourselves home, no? Why don't you and Tilly start closing up?”

“Okay, sounds great.” she said, but made no move to leave.

Rumford raised his brows. “Miss Halloran? Was there something–?”

“Yeah. Yes. Um… Tilly was wondering if maybe she could uh–”

“Yes,” he smiled. “Yes, she can take the charcuterie board home.”

*****

Neal stopped scrolling through the app on his phone when he heard the front door crack open.

Over an hour earlier than expected.

Quickly plugging his phone into its charger, he jumped off his bed and bounded for the stairs.

“Hey, Po–” he froze midway when he saw her.

Tiny. Tiny brunette. In an even tinier skirt.  The only thing about her that wasn't tiny were her shoes. Big, platform, stripper shoes. And yet, even with them on, she was still tinier than Pop.

So, so tiny.

Neal quietly retreated back up the stairs and watched the woman smile as his father gently removed her jacket. He pressed a doting little kiss to her shoulder and she spun around, giggling and making a comment about what a gentleman he was. He scoffed and Neal caught him blushing when he turned to hang her tiny jacket on the coat rack.

Pop turned to face her again and cupped her elbows, leaning in closely and rubbing little circles into her skin with his thumbs. Neal couldn't make out what he was saying, but given the context and the way she was blushing and demurely looking away, he had a few ideas.

He shook them away.

The tiny brunette nodded, they shared a quick peck on the lips, and Pop settled his hand on the small of her back, leading her toward the kitchen.

Oh, no.

This couldn't possibly the librarian he'd been telling him about. Pop told him she was younger and that she was beautiful– but surely this woman was too young, too… well, he wasn't about to use the word hot to describe a woman his dad was seeing but, if the platform shoes fit…

Neal finally continued his trek down the stairs, stomping loudly to alert them to his presence. He didn't need to walk in on anything he wasn't meant to see, after all. But when he rounded the corner to the kitchen, he caught his father in the middle of–

Grabbing a glass out of the cabinet.

“Ah. And here I was beginning to think there was an elephant in the house,” Pop deadpanned, stepping over to choose a bottle from the wine rack. “How many times do I have to tell ye tae stop stomping around like that? Old house like this, it–”

“Carries, I know.” Neal rolled his eyes.

Pop shot him a scolding look. “Do you?”

No correct answer to that, Neal quickly decided, and didn't say a word.

“Well, it's not important.” he dismissed, setting a bottle of wine out. “Son, I…” he spun around and rubbed his hand over the tiny woman's back, smiling at her. “I'd like to introduce you to Miss French.”

Yup.

Definitely his librarian.

This was no good. He wasn't supposed to be home for another hour, but she definitely wasn't supposed to be here for another hour.

It took Miss French a moment to finish making eyes at his father– a moment Neal used to muster as much calm as he could. No matter the fire and brimstone waiting to rain down on the three of them, the occasion called for politeness.

“Hey.” He finally offered his hand out. “S’Neal.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Neal.” she smiled, giving a startlingly firm handshake. “Your dad's um, told me a lot about you.”

“Oh. Great.” he said. “Miss… French.”

“You can just call me Belle.” she said, looking back at Pop expectantly.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I'm sorry, darling. You keep telling me and I keep–”

“Rumford, it's fine,” she hushed, taking his hand and smiling up at him. “Besides–” she whispered without really whispering at all, “I think I might like it when you call me Miss French…”

There was a flash of something strange in Pop's eyes, and the corner of his mouth tugged into a crooked smirk. “Is that so?” he murmured in her ear and tugged her a little closer. “...Miss French?”

“Rumford!” Belle giggled and smacked his arm. She suddenly fell silent and nibbled her lip, and good God, Pop was smoldering at her.

Gross.

Neal cleared his throat loudly. This was fine.

He would just need to act as surprised as they were when the time came. “...Right, well. I just came down to grab a soda, so–”

“Please–” his father cut in, “stay. We're about to start on dinner. We're making your favorite pork chops with red wine sauce, you know.”

Oh, hell yes.

“Hmm… pass. I uh, have homework?” He lied, quickly nabbing a soda can from the fridge and making a bolt for the stairs.

“Homework?” Pop asked. “Son, your classes haven't even started.”

“Oh, right. Homework… I meant, I have um…” he snapped his fingers, pretending to think of something.

Pop sighed. “Have you heard from your mother?” he asked.

“Uh… yeah!” he answered too quickly, laughing nervously. “Yeah, she landed like, half an hour ago.”

“Well... aren't you picking her up?”

Neal took a few heavy gulps from his soda can. “No. Why?”

“She's your mother.”

He shrugged. “So? She's a grown woman. She knows how to get an Uber– which is more than I can say for you.”

“Unbelievable.” Pop shook his head, but Belle giggled.

She had a sense of humor.

This was good.

“Hey– mom's the one who wanted to move back to Livahpool,” Neal said. “That she has to hop an eight hour flight and an hour cab ride every time she decides she wants to see me is her problem.”

Pop pressed his lips together. “So you're meeting her at the hotel at least?”

Neal's mouth hung open.

That was it. He was cornered.

“Uh… see, here's the thing about that,” he said. “You uh… you said Belle was coming this weekend.”

“Aye.”

“Well, today's Friday , so… technically… not the weekend?”

Pop wet his lips. The way he always did whenever he was pretending to not be angry about something. “What are you saying?”

Neal took a deep breath and braced himself. “I... might-have-told-mom-it-was-cool-if-she-came-over-for-dinner-tonight.” he blurted out as quickly as he could.

“What.”

“I was trying to be nice!” Neal said in his defense. “I thought– you know! Family dinner! All three of us! A one night offering to appease the gods!” he explained, gesturing wildly with his hands.

Pop tilted his head. “Your mother is… on her way to this house? Right now?”

“...Yes?”

“Oh, bloody hell.” Pop groaned. “She was supposed to– she was supposed to stay out of my hair.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “You know what? It's fine. This is all… going to be just fine.”

“Yeah! It's just like, Christmas came early this year!” Neal said. “But… you know. Just the bad parts.”

Pop sighed again. “No communication in this house.” he muttered under his breath. “W-when did this happen? Ye didnae think to tell me, son?”

“It… slipped my mind?”

“Did it?” he asked, and that was also definitely a rhetorical question.

“It did until this morning!” Neal admitted. “And I was going to tell you before you left so you'd have time to mentally prepare yourself, but you were acting really weird and it was killing the vibe!”

Pop reeled back, clutching a hand to his chest. “I was killing the vibe!?”

Neal snuck a glance at Belle– who, to her credit, seemed more entertained than anything.

“I didn't think it would be a big deal?” he grasped. “I mean it sucks, but it's not like, an emergency.” He swallowed hard, and pulled his trump card– “Look on the bright side: It's not like my life was in danger!”

The corners of Pop's mouth pinched in a way that said, I'm not angry. I'm just disappointed.

“What!?” Neal whined. “You're always telling me to like, be nicer to her and crap!”

Pop sighed. “I know, son. I know…”

“Oh! Oh!” he clapped his hands together, “I’ll just call and tell her not to come!”

Pop glared back at him like he had two heads. “No… don't... do that.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause it's no’ proper!” he cried. He took a deep breath, and then another. “Look. It's… it's not your fault.” Pop said calmly. “She should have checked with me first.”

Belle rubbed his shoulder and hushed a few words of comfort into his ear. He looked back at her with a weak smile, which grew stronger when she pecked him on the cheek.

The whole thing felt so weird and foreign, and yet… nice, Neal thought.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “It's just– you know how she does that thing. Where she's all, ‘I miss you, I don't see you enough…’ And then you feel guilty, so you just agree with whatever she's saying, and next thing you know, you've sold your second born–”

“It's fine.” Pop said, with all the acceptance of a man prepared to face his death. “It's just one meal, as you said. After all, what's the worst that could happen?”

Neal knew better than to answer that.

A/N: Thanks for sticking with this story y'all. u da real MVPs.

There's lots of big things on the horizon here, but updates will probably continue to be slow while I work on my Rumbelle Big Bang fic.

[taz-writes]

1, 12, 27 for that fantasy ask meme?

Hi! i’m answering this pretty late because I got busy! 

01. which world is your favorite? least favorite? why?

Feilan’s definitely my favorite fantasy world that I’ve created, just because it’s so old and so precious to me as a person that I will never stop adoring it. It’s got a lot of depth, because I’ve spent years and years making up ridiculous nonsense and then trying to explain it. 

I think the least favorite fantasy world I’ve tried to build was… I dunno. I’ve forgotten what I named it, because I scrapped it for being kind of a weird racist mess. I made it when I was in fifth grade and thought it was fine, but then I grew up and started looking at it and realized that it had all kinds of unfortunate implications that I’d been totally oblivious to. I didn’t know how to fix those, and the good parts of the ‘verse weren’t good enough to be worth saving, so it went bye-bye. Least favorite fantasy world that isn’t mine and that I didn’t make is a tough question, but I am very disappointed in a lot of YA fantasy worlds because so many of them seem really uninspired. They get treated as set dressing for a romance and that’s the end of it. 

12. is there an ocean in your story? what kind of creatures lurk in it?

Yes, there is! My fairies actually spend a lot of time there in book 2. It’s home to the underwater nation of Marazzia, home of the mersprites. My mersprites are… special people. I have a personal grudge against mermaids, but I’m fond of my interpretation anyways. They’re the diplomats of the sea! Since their home nation lies between the two major continents of the world, they find themselves in the middle of a lot of international trade and drama. They’ve taken advantage of this to control intercontinental trade and travel, even going as far as to negotiate and arbitrate surface wars and conflicts. Peace makes good business. And if you would choose to break the peace, well… you won’t be very welcome when you’re marooned in still waters, will you? Mersprites do not have internal aura magic like fairies, but they are masters of manipulating the magic in their environment. They’ve perfected the art of creating magical wands and amulets, including the amulets commonly used for physical shapeshifting and transformation. Visitors to Marazzia are often loaned diplomat amulets which let them take the shape of mersprites and travel underwater themselves, and the mersprites will engage in surface diplomacy using amulets that turn them human for a while. Rumor has it that the mersprites who speak with surface-dwellers wear some kind of amulet even under the water, to appear pleasant and pleasing to the eye. This sounds ridiculous, but they do look quite a lot like humans with pretty scaled tails, despite sometimes living at the depths of ocean trenches where light wouldn’t even reach for them to sea with…

27. is there a castle? what does it look like?

Hell yeah! There are a few of them, actually. 

The castle on Eth Zantaara is Kyrina’s stronghold. It’s pretty squat and wide, built up on a mountain face with one big fat tower. It looks like a kid drawing, Kyrina designed it herself when she was like 4 or 5 and blew an unfair amount of the country’s budget on construction. 

The Great Castle, Feilan’s most iconic building, is SUPER impressive. It’s located in Lanorium and has been the seat of royal power for thousands of years before Kyrina’s regents moved the capitol. It was built in the Age of Light, before written history, and the architectural techniques used to create it have been lost to time. It is SO huge and SO tall that it’s visible for miles, and it could potentially house the whole population of the surrounding city inside its walls. It consists of seven towers next to each other, like… symmetrical panpipes is the image I’m coming up with right now, surrounded by gardens. The towers feature spectacular and ENORMOUS multi-story stained glass windows, plus an opalescent finish to the stone that’s unique to the castle. Once again, nobody knows how they did that. It’s iconic enough that the castle is featured on Feilan’s currency as a symbol of the nation! The castle’s insides are also spectacularly huge. There’s a whole orchard and small farm located in one of the towers, which produces enough food to make the castle self-sustaining. There’s also a big cathedral, and a ballroom with special marble flooring that reflects dancers’ magical auras. Unfortunately, the westernmost tower was severely damaged in the fire that killed the previous Queen and Prince Consort, and due to the age of the architecture it’s unable to be fully repaired. The damage is visible from the outside as a nasty black char over much of the tower’s walls, and the nice pointed roof has caved in. 

The Tsi Citadel also sort of counts as a castle, although the royal family’s home is more of a palace, since it’s not fortified. The whole city is built up in the canopy of the Tsi Forest, reaching somewhere around 200 feet in the air. It’s surrounded by an ancient, crumbling wall, reinforced by vines and built onto the surrounding valley. There’s an old fortress down there too, but it’s been surrendered to the undergrowth. It’s safer and easier to live up in the trees. The aesthetic is…well, I’ve been describing it to people as Lothlorien but chunkier, and that’s pretty accurate. It’s very surreal and inhuman-looking, but also very strong. The architecture is modeled after traditional Germanic aesthetics. 

The Irkatzi Palace in V’Ianor is also worth mentioning, just because it’s really pretty. Like the Tsi city, V’Ianor is a treehouse town, but the aesthetic is TOTALLY different. Most of the trees in V’Ianor are pines, so the buildings often look like they’re on stilts supporting themselves on slimmer tree trunks. There’s an East Asian look to the designs, I’m still working out which specific type of East Asian but right now I’m leaning Chinese or Vietnamese. They’re similar looks but with different cultural implications. The Irkatzi palace is no exception, it has those gorgeous pagoda-style curved rooftops and some very nice detailing on the walls. The overall look is more graceful than the Tsi, very angular but very precise. A little elven. There’s water everywhere. The Irkatzi associate themselves with the goddess Harmonine and believe that their people came from the sea, and this expresses itself in water art, so their palace is full of these gorgeous enchanted streams and waterfalls that are guided through thin air using magic. Sculpting these water formations is a traditional Irkatzi art form. The palace has very famous water gardens in its courtyard. 

Thanks so much for the ask! I really love talking about my worldbuilding, it’s something I’m very proud of even though it’s still a work in progress in a lot of ways. 

[paceywittersherocomplex]

So I was tagged (some of these forever and ever ago) by @mrs-storm-andrews​ to do some things/answer some questions and I always say I will do it one day and today is that day! (I have been probably tagged by other people in other things also but I can’t find them anymore, sorry!)

Reading Habit Meme

Do you have a certain place at home for reading? Yes, I mostly read in my armchair which I rarely sit in for anything else.

Do you use bookmarks? Yes, I have so many bookmarks. I always try to use one that fits with the book I’m currently reading.

Can you stop reading or do you have to make it to the end of the chapter? I prefer to stop at the end of a chapter.

Do you eat or drink while reading? Drinking mostly water, eating rarely. Maybe an apple when I’m hungry? Thrilling, I know. I have had too many accidents with food and books. The position of my aforementioned armchair makes drinking tea or something hard.

Music or TV while reading? No, I need silence.

One book at a time or multiple? Only ever one at a time.

Reading at home or while out? At home. I would love to be one of those people who always takes a book with them whereever they go, but books are heavy, you know? And I never end up reading anyway.

Reading out loud or silently? Silently. Do people read out loud to themselves?

Do you read ahead or skip pages? Nope. I try very hard not to spoil myself. I used to read the ending of books when I was a child but stopped that. When I read the Hunger Games, I would always cover the last line of the chapter with my hand, because I coulnd’t help my eyes from skipping to there.

Breaking the spine? Yes, because trying to read a book otherwise is terrible.

Do you write in your books? I underlined like whole books for school and university and take notes sometimes, but privately no. Though I’m not opposed (anymore) to it. But again, when rereading my eyes would automatically skip to there and I want it to be fresh.

20 Questions

1. name: Mareike

2. nickname: I used to be called Mari, and some friends from school still call me that when we meet again, which is always weird and a surprise. But no.

3. astro sign: Taurus

4. gender: Female

5. sexuality: Who even knows anymore?

6. fav color: When something can be pink, why should it not be pink? Also blue and and and

7. time rn: 13:18

8. avg amount of sleep: 7? When I have to go to work. It doesn’t feel like that though

9. last thing you googled: I think it was if I could/should cut the roots from plants? No! It was if his parents really called him Lutz van der Horst. (Worse: Lutz Alwin van der Horst)

10. number of blankets: 1 “normal” bed blanket + 1 woolen-ish blanket + 1 small baby blanket for the feet region. Less than these 3 when it gets hot though obviously

11. what are you wearing rn???: Sweatpants and a Gilmore Girls tshirt

12. fav fictional character: Buffy Summers

13. current fandom/ fav media: What kind of question is this? Skam always. I recently finished Spartacus so still very invested in that. Yesterday I started rewatching TVD. Also reading the Nevernight trilogy but haven’t ventured into the fandom yet because spoiles.

14. can you drive/ do you THINK you can drive?: I can drive, neither well nor do I like it though. I am very aware that I am in a rolling death machine.

15. fav subject in school: German

16. did you have a stuffed animal growing up?: Dude, I still have one. Several. She said looking over at her IKEA shark next to her on the couch. Social distancing gets lonely!

17. opinion on milk: Weird question, but ok. Needed in coffee. Kakao also good. Haven’t drank it by itself in a while. Only the reduced fat kind though.

18. favorite cartoon as a kid: Puh. Biene Maja? Sendung mit der Maus? Heidi? Several animes? 

19. did you play a sport growing up?: I was playing basketball for two months which was terrible and I don’t know who came up with that idea. I used to ride and then I fell off and broke my arm and my parents sold all the stuff and that was that. Way back I did like children ballett which had nothing to do ballet.

20. Random Fact About Yourself!!: I greet animals, mostly birds. (Hey, bird.) It’s not weird, it’s charming, and hopefully nobody hears me doing it.

Song titel tag game

Rules: Spell out your url using song titles! Bonus: Use only one song per artist

Boy, am I glad about my url. Let me open Itunes real quick.

P - Poison & Wine, The Civil Wars

A - Animal, Troye Sivan

C - Cut, Plumb

E - Everything, Lifehouse

Y - You make my dreams, Hall & Oats

W - Where to we go from here, Buffy cast

I - I will always love you, Whitney Houston

T - Take me to church, Hozier

T - Tounge tied, Grouplove

E - Eyes, Rogue Wave

R - Red, Taylor Swift

S - Satisfied, Hamilton

H - Happy ending, Mika

E - Every you every me, Placebo

R - Radio Ga Ga, Queen

O - O holy night, Cary Brothers

C - Castle, Halsey

O - Only you, Flying Pickets

M - Mrs Potter’s Lullaby, Counting Crows

P - Paradise, Gavin Mikhail

L - Landungsbrücken raus, Kettcar

E - Enjoy the silence, Depeche Mode

X - X marks the spot, Coldplay, is apparently a thing

Wait, I forgot one: 5 things that make you happy

1. snow

2. spring, when the birds are singing and the sun is shining and everything is starting to bloom again

3. great stories

4. sunsets

5. fun times spent with people

[myrfing]

that was. probably the...WHAT WAS THAT DREAM

- it repeated twice but it was implied that this was some sort of loop that i broke out of

- there were like 6-8 kids involved and I was one of them. most of us if not all were brothers

- there were bombs. it all started with something about a bomb and two of us taking another kid hostage at gunpoint and there was this older plumber-like guy who somehow baited us all into doing it

- there was some kind of party that was disney princess themed where this one couple ruins everything like they go kind of nuts the woman especially is this like. fucking insane. she wants all of us kids dead for some reason. i think we set her off but i forget how

- heres where it gets fucking weird like we get caught in this gambit situation but escape only to get put under the hold of this like...orphanage thing that for some reason houses us RIGHT next to the house of the crazy woman? and no matter how much I begged and pleaded with them to move us they...i dont even remember who I was talking to i actually dont even remember if there was another person there. we were treated well and given room to exercise and play but for some reason we were all slowly starving to death

- so at one point the crazy woman breaks in and holds all of us hostage. because you know. only this wooden backyard fence seperates the orphanage and her property. i dont know what for shes obviously going to kill us but she keeps us alive for a little while for some reason

- the kids start dying off from various ways (they each or in pairs had like unique ways of going out like starving or something BUT I DONT REMEMBER ANYTHING LMAO + in the very end I learn that somehow one of the brothers killed most of the others...?) and its like literally 2-3 days of me sitting in a room with the crazy woman fiddling with some equipment and talking about something and the sevenish dead bodies just like. decomposing

- im talking to someone or rather they’re just talking to me I think it’s one of my brothers but it makes no sense BECAUSE THEY’RE ALL DEAD and he’s slowly explaining why everything happened but i forgot all of it. except this one part where I ask him why I’m still alive and he says something about how he saw me reading once (???)

- the woman is still raving to me and the dead bodies about how reprehensible we are and what terrible things she’s going to do to us

- here’s the parts I remember with clarity

- suddenly the eldest? brother who i thought was dead slumped over the counter facing the living room we were all in jerks upright, shoots the woman, and just. throws up everywhere and abruptly dies before I can even say anything. he did it to save me...?

- finally with everyone in the room dead I just kind of sat there. then the door opens and it’s the guy who goaded us into that hostage thing that set all of this off (that i still dont remember clearly) and he just kind of takes one sweeping glance at the room (which is. just filthy disgusting now) and leaves, shutting the door and locking it with me still inside

- i dont even react. im tired & im nearly dead from starvation i dont really feel it because emotionless/sensationless dreams but i know. so I assume i should just give up and lay there on the couch waiting to die like the rest of my brothers

- then the dead? brother I was talking to earlier starts again and he talks to me about why all of us were born. he says something like “we’re the ones who messed up because we didn’t listen to him” and it cuts to this completely bizzaro new scene

- some slightly fat kid is trying to get my attention and the setting is just a blank void and I initially ignore him because I think he’s annoying but then his mouth starts getting fucking HUGE it’s like those stupit memes you see with the mouths edited to be like massive black holes and he just keeps going HEY HEY HEY HEY until I answered him

- and then he breaks out into this extremely long fucking. nazi song about racial eugenics. like ive never heard this song in my life and it’s so fucking bizarre and stupid he like lists off a physical feature and then goes like NO NO NO and says something in german and ???????????????????

- i snap back to the Everyones Dead Living Room and I ask my dead brother if I’m supposed to be this one guy. not the fat nazi kid not anyone ever mentioned previously just...this guy who im assuming is important

- suddenly with this new completely nonsense info I gain a desire to live and I wrap a cloth around myself, get up and just unlock the door and leave. im fucking filthy and covered in all sorts of nasty shit and emaciated from no food but im close to this rich people neighborhood and find this apartment area for the rich where they all lived in like glass and white painted buildings and there were a ton of pools everywhere so I waded through one. nobody paid me any mind for some reason while I thought about what I had to do to survive

- at the like northeast end of the apartment grounds theres some huge beach party going on and McDonalds is holding this free all you can eat fries stand. NOBODY still comments on my absolutely disgusting and now soggy mildly hypothermic appearance as I hovel fries into my mouth and the dream me shows emotion for the first fucking time like, im them and everything but i still dont feel the emotions I just watch as my own body heaves in like grief and fries-eating pleasure and I finally realize I survived. this was at the end of loop 2

- i wake up. im dumbfounded this was. ??? WHAT

- im a guy throughout the entire dream and think of myself as one and am treated as such without even so much of a question like. i still had a female physical body but it was for some reason like universally true that I was male and I only questioned it once in the entire dream at the part where I ask if im supposed to be That One Guy but my dead brother essentially just shrugs and says like doesnt matter you’re him and I didnt have any issues with that but now that im awake and thinking about it. what

[frywen-babbles]

Rules: fill this out and tag at least one person you’d like to know more about! Or just fill it out! Or don’t! Answer only some of them! Make up your own questions! “What kind of requirement is that”, you ask? A reasonable one! Who am I to tell you what to do? Anything goes!

(Original questions authored by @cavern-of-bells , thank her!)

Tagged by @belxsar , thank you for the tag!

1. What kind of food can’t you stand?: I’m with you @belxsar , eggplant is horrible. It tastes too bitter, as does zucchini. Overcooked bell peppers are also disgusting.

2. If you could choose one minor inconvenience to never have to deal with again, what would you pick?: Packing. I’d love if everything important just packed itself without having to worry about fitting everything in and stressing about forgetting something important. I hate packing.  

3. Have you got any useless talents?: I don’t think my talents are useless, but I think lots of people think my profession is useless.  

4. If you could be really really good at one thing, what would it be?: Time management.  

5. Name a few people you think are extremely good-looking: Otome men?

6. What was your favorite way to pass the time as a kid?: Reading. I was obsessed, I could read several books per day if I just had the time.  

7. What is something you’re proud of?: My kids.  

8. What’s one character flaw in people that you just can’t tolerate?: Bigotry. In all of its forms, whether it’s terfs, racists, homophobes or neo-nazis.

9. Do you consider yourself to be more of a leader or a follower?: A follower. I only take the lead if no-one else will.

10. What kind of student are/were you?: A decent one? I tried to do my homework on time and had decent grades.  

11. Butterfly effect question! Has there ever been a seemingly minor decision you’ve made (at the time) that ended up having a profound influence on your life?: Yes. I went to watch Oscars with some friends and ended up falling in love.

12. Name your most irrational fear/aversion: Like funny irrational or terrifying irrational? I’m scared to put my hands over railings if I’m holding something on my hands or if I have rings because I’m sure I’ll drop everything.

13. Are there any fictional characters you find especially relatable?: From SLBP I find Mitsunari really relatable. I just try to appear nice and hide my tsun.

14. If you drink, what kind of drunk are you? Alternatively, what sort of person are you at parties?: I’m a sociable drunk. I’m one of those introverts that turn into extroverts when they drink. If I can’t drink myself nice, I usually sit in a corner, avoid loud music and prefer talking to 2-3 people.  

15. Do you fall in love easily? Or does it usually take a long time for you to trust someone?: I have crushes fairly easily, but I’ve fallen in love head over heels just once. Usually, it takes longer time, but I guess that one time was special?

16. Would you rather have one close friend or 100 casual friends?: One close friend. I’m too introverted to have a large social circle, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy talking to lots of people.  

17. Do you consider yourself to be more of a slob or a neat-freak?: I’m both. I’m a horrible slob who likes to keep all closets and drawers neat.  

18. Describe a place (imaginary or real) that you would find incredibly cozy: The Shire from Lord of the Rings.

19. Do you have kids? If not, do you want them someday?: I have just the perfect amount of kids.  

20. What was your favorite book as a child?: I don’t remember what was my absolute favourite, but the book that I loved and what had most impact me as a person must have been Dealing With Dragons and the entire Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patricia C. Wrede.  

21. Name one thing you just don’t get what all the hype is about: Game of Thrones and other overly violent and dark fantasy series. Give me back Buffy or The Legend of the Seeker or Xena. I had nightmares for a month when I tried to watch GoT.  

22. Name one thing that you think is tragically underrated: Barbie: Life in the Dreamhouse -series. It’s hilarious and filled with weird pop culture references.

23. If you had to be glued to a person for a month, real or fictional (who you have never met), who would you choose?: It doesn’t matter, I would SUFFER no matter who it was (and probably the other party would too, I’m a really nasty person when I’ve had too much socialising). I can’t even stand hubby for a month.  

24. What’s something you’d like the chance to do someday?: Travel more.  

25. Do you typically speak your mind when you have a controversial opinion? Or do generally prefer to not rock the boat?: I just loathe silently (but probably not discreetly) everyone around me.

26. What’s the dumbest fad you’ve been caught up in?: All the fads I’ve been caught up in were awesome, I have no regrets <3

27. What’s something you thought was cool as a kid/adolescent, but now cringe at yourself for?: Sexist jokes.  

28. What’s a trait you consider to be very admirable?: A passion to want something to happen so much you’re willing to put everything else aside. Like a passion to organise cons. It takes a huge amount of energy and time and still some people do it over and over again without any pay, just because they want other people to be able to enjoy themselves.

29. Is there a particular kind of item people always tend to give you as gifts? (For instance, people always get you things with ducks on them because you like ducks, etc.): I get things with cats on them a lot, I think?

30. Do you speak multiple languages? Which ones?: My mother tongue and English. I barely survive shopping in Swedish and know very little Spanish, Japanese and German.  

31. Would you rather live in the big city or the countryside?: Big city, the countryside is awful, everyone knows each other. And all the gossip. Nope.  

32. Has there ever been something you were certain you’d hate, but ended up loving?: Winx club. But I didn’t think I’d hate it, just that it wouldn’t be interesting. I teased hubby when he watched it but ended up being totally addicted instead.  

33. Do you mind being the center of attention, or do you prefer the spotlight to be on someone else?: I love being at the centre of the attention but at the same time, I’m terrified of it.

34. Favorite holiday?: Christmas.  

35. Are you a more go-with-the-flow type of person, or do you need to have things planned meticulously?: I need plans. I hate surprises. Depending on my anxiety level, I need anything from two days to an hour to prepare for small things.  

36. Is there something you loved so much you wish you could forget it and experience it all over again? (A tv show, book, series–anything.) : The Lord of the Rings hype when the movies came out. It was awesome, I loved every minute of it.  

37. What hobbies do you have?: Writing and playing otome games.  

38. If you could have a superpower, but it was only mildly useful, what ability would you want to have?: I’d like to keep house plants alive. Or have birds poop on nasty people.  

39. Something people are always surprised to learn about you: IRL people are surprised when I tell I play otome games. Some people find my profession surprising as well as if being a geek and beauty care are somehow exclusionary.

40. Something that took you way too long to figure out: That my body is good enough as it is. Somehow it needed +20kg to realise I wasn’t as fat as I thought I was.  

41. Worst injury you’ve had?: Tearing ligaments in my ankle. Twice.  

42. Any morbid fascinations?: Like everything? For example, I love songs that are supposed to be nice and calm but instead are about death and misery, like some lullabies and Christmas songs.

43. Describe your sense of humor: Sarcastic and pretty dry. But I also laugh at the stupidest memes.

44. If you had to be born in another era/place, which would you choose?: Good olden days suck. It doesn’t matter, I’d probably be dead anyway.  

45. Something you are irredeemably bad at: Time management.  

46. Something that sucked but you’re glad you went through: Pregnancy. It majorly sucked both times, but it was still worth it. Every other shit that I��ve gone through I could have lived without. It’s not true that “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”. What doesn’t kill you may irreparably break and damage you and you might never be over some shit, no matter how hard you tell yourself that you are.

47. Would you rather have a really godawful ugly tattoo in a place that is only slightly inconvenient to conceal with clothing (upper arm, thigh, etc.), or the coolest, most beautiful tattoo ever in the middle of your face? (Neither tattoo can be removed or concealed with makeup, and the ugly tattoo will deeply offend anyone who sees it.): Facial tattoo.  

48. Are you more of an optimist or a pessimist?: Optimist, I think. I force myself to have an absolute faith that everything will work out, otherwise, I’d be an anxious mess incapable of doing anything.  

49. What would be the most flattering compliment someone could give you?: That they loved my writing. Or that I made them have feels and now they hate me ^^

50. Something you feel people often misunderstand about you: That I actually usually want to talk to them even if I seem standoffish or cold. I’m just not that good at talking to people I don’t know.  

Tagging @minnimay17 @i-dont-look-good-i-look-great @wonky-glass-ornament @thedaydreamingotaku @suzunesays

[datakw7]

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