#the amicable pawnbroker

[calamity-calliope]

Johnathan Morholt Certsey casually strolling through the unimaginable horrors of the Coil with his stick and his glasses whilst whistling a jaunty lil Irish tune (his faith is strong and he knows the Dawn will protect him)

[neathyingenue]

Brigid had no idea she was so in demand! Some scenes from her job-hopping--

Interpreting August Shaw's directions (@zeebreezin)

An interview with the Director (@warabola)

A free ship from Ockham (@viric-dreams)

How the Gant-Eyed Warden makes an exit (@gant-eyed-warden)

A day on the job with the Amicable Pawnbroker (@calamity-calliope)

Shortly before Brigid broke her contract with Captain Twitchery (@capn-twitchery)

Brigid's account is still in early game so she doesn't have a ship. However, she's a zailor, which means she's probably on one of YOUR ships 👀👀 (She refuses to zail with Silvia because 1. Silvia feels very weird about hiring her fwb and 2. Brigid has negative trust in Silvia's ability as a captain)

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Plus One

Summary: Having sort-of-accidentally created a fake boyfriend, Belle needs a date to a friend’s wedding. To save face in front of his ex, Gold needs a date to the same wedding. Perhaps they can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement?

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt “Fake Dating/Arranged Marriage AU”. This is the fake dating version.

Rated: T

=====

Plus One

Belle looked down at the invitation and sighed. On the face of it, the invitation itself didn’t present all that much of a problem. The problem came from the hole that she had dug herself into. It was true what they said about lies spiralling out of control until you were caught out in them.

Belle French plus one are invited to the wedding of Neal Baeden Gold and Emma Ruth Swan.

It was the plus one that was causing the problem. Mainly because contrary to what she had told Emma and the rest of their female friends, Belle was not currently in possession of a plus one.

Belle would maintain that it wasn’t entirely her fault. It was Ruby and Rory who had been so set on putting her on blind dates in the hope of finding her ‘the one’, since she was the last of their friendship group to do so. If they hadn’t tried to match her up with anything that had a pulse, then she wouldn’t have had to invent the fake boyfriend to get them off her back.

Belle thought again about the invitation. It wasn’t the end of the world. She could always tell the girls that the mysterious man was working and unable to come to the wedding. No, that would engender too many questions about exactly what he was doing, and the potential for getting caught out in the lie was increased tenfold, as Belle couldn’t remember if she’d already told them the plus one’s entirely fictitious profession or not.

Maybe they’d had an amicable break-up and she was no longer attached? No, that would just start the entire matchmaking process off again and make more trouble for herself in the long run. Knowing Ruby and Rory, they’d probably be determined to get her a rebound partner at the wedding reception and wouldn’t leave her alone until she left with someone.

So, the next option was to get one of her male friends to pretend to be said fictitious boyfriend. It would be a pretty neat gig if she was honest: they’d get free food and all they’d have to do was be polite to everyone and make a fuss of Belle for a few hours. She’d definitely pretend to be someone’s girlfriend for that.

Belle racked her brains, trying to remember how she had described the mystery man to Emma and the others, and trying to work out which of her male friends matched the description the best.

It was then that Belle came to a conclusion that made her heart sink, and a second conclusion that made her heart sink even further.

The first realisation was that Belle really only had one male friend, and he was really not the kind of person that she could ask to pretend to be her boyfriend for a day. To be honest she didn’t even know if he considered her a friend or if he saw her as more of an acquaintance. Belle liked to think that they were friends; she always said hello to him when they passed in the street and they always engaged in friendly chit-chat when he came to change his library books, and he’d invited her in for tea in his shop a couple of times so that they could talk about the antiquated literature that he had on sale in there.

That didn’t necessarily mean that Mr Gold considered her a friend, though.

The second realisation was linked to the first, as Belle came to the conclusion that the mystery man whom she had described to Emma and the rest of the girls bore several remarkable similarities to Mr Gold.

In the back of her mind, something sensible told her that at least if he did go along with the ridiculous plan she was concocting, he would most definitely look the part.

Unfortunately, that sensible part was being overshadowed by the terrible dawning knowledge that Belle was going to have to face up to the fact that she was slowly falling in love with Mr Gold.

To make matters worse…

Belle looked down at the invitation again. Mr Gold of Gold’s Antiques and Pawnbroking in Storybrooke, Maine, was the father of Neal Baeden Gold currently of Boston, Massachusetts, who was marrying Emma.

It was a strange chain of events that had led Belle to live in the same town as Mr Gold. Brought up in Boston and having attended college there with Emma, it was Emma’s then boyfriend, now fiancé, and soon to be husband, who had recommended his home town of Storybrooke as the ideal place to start her librarian’s career.

Belle had loved it and would be eternally grateful to Neal for pointing her in that direction. She didn’t think that Neal would view her falling in love with his father as being particularly grateful, though.

Oh dear. This was really a very pretty kettle of fish that she’d managed to get herself into, and matters were only being compounded by the fact that the very Mr Gold whom she was unable to stop thinking about had invited her over to look at a rare first edition that he’d received in a house clearance and was expecting her any minute.

Belle took a deep breath, steeled herself, and left the library, locking up for the day behind her before heading in the direction of the pawn shop. She could get through this. She had to get through this. This was a friendship that she truly valued and she didn’t want to lose it through her own carelessness.

Gold was waiting for her behind the counter when she entered the shop, and he smiled as she came in, holding out the small book for her.

“Here it is, almost as good as new, Miss French. Would you care to come through and examine it over tea?”

Belle smiled back. “That would be lovely, thank you Mr Gold.”

He let her through into the workroom at the back of the shop and Belle settled herself in one of the chairs whilst he made the tea. She was about to open up the book and get started on perusing its venerable old pages when something caught her eye and she looked over to see a rather familiar square of white and silver card sitting on the workbench.

Raymond Gold plus one are invited to the wedding of Neal Baeden Gold and Emma Ruth Swan.

“I received my invitation too,” she blurted out, before adding, “I didn’t know your name was Raymond.”

The quirk of a smile crossed Gold’s face.

“Most people just call me Rum,” he said.

“Oh.” Belle paused. “May I call you Rum? You can call me Belle.”

“Very well, Belle. You may call me Rum.”

Something felt different now that they were on first name terms. It was as if they had turned a corner in their friendship without noticing, but at least now Belle was certain that it definitely was a friendship on both their parts and not more on one side than the other.

It gave her the confidence she needed to go on.

“Will you be taking a plus one?” she asked.

Gold’s small smile became a frown, and Belle thought for a moment that she had touched a nerve.

“I suppose that depends,” he said.

“On what?”

“On whether I can find anyone to be my plus one.” He paused. “Neal’s mother is probably counting on the fact that I can’t, which makes me even more determined to find one.”

“I’m sure you will,” Belle said confidently, although her airy tone belied her heart pounding painfully in her chest. Should she offer to be his plus one now and solve both their problems in one swoop?

Gold’s laugh was sharp and humourless. “I think you’re overestimating my appeal to the womenfolk of Storybrooke, Belle. They wouldn’t exactly be lining up to accompany me to such an occasion. You know my reputation as well as anyone.”

Belle waved his concerns away. She knew his reputation as well as anyone, and she also knew that it was almost entirely unwarranted.

“I’d be your plus one,” she said firmly.

Gold looked up at her incredulously. “You would?”

Belle nodded. “Certainly. In fact, I was going to ask if you would be mine.”

“You were?” Gold looked around himself, perhaps to ascertain that she really was talking to him and not some other invisible person in the room she’d rather take to the wedding. “Don’t you have your own plus one?”

“No,” Belle said levelly. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be asking you. So, what do you say? Shall we be each other’s plus ones? You can get to stick it to your ex-wife and I won’t have to answer any questions about my entirely fictitious boyfriend.”

Gold took a full five minutes to digest the meaning of her statement, during which the tea began to go cold, but he paid it no mind.

“You wouldn’t mind?” he said. “Being seen out with me in that kind of capacity?”

Belle shook her head. “Not in the slightest.”

Although he was still looking rather disbelieving, Gold finally smiled again.

“All right then, Belle,” he said eventually. “It’s a date.”

X

Thus far, Belle thought that the wedding had gone remarkably well. She hadn’t needed to be introduced to Neal’s mother, it was obvious from the woman’s gobsmacked expression when Gold had walked into the reception room with Belle on his arm who she was. Emma and Neal had been rather surprised to find that her mystery man was actually Neal’s father, but she had managed to get through the event without too much questioning. Things seemed to be moving along rather nicely. Emma was looking radiant in her wedding gown and Neal equally dashing in his tux, and for the majority of the day, most of the other guests’ attentions had been focussed on the happy couple.

It was only now that the party was beginning to wind down that Belle noticed the looks that were being passed their way from Gold’s ex-wife and the young man she had brought with her to the wedding. There were certain snide remarks being bandied back and forth, and on her way back from the ladies’ room Belle had heard something insinuating that Gold had paid for the privilege of escorting Belle to the occasion.

Returning to their table, Belle slipped into her seat beside Gold and leaned in close.

“I think our act needs work,” she said. “People are beginning to get suspicious.”

Gold turned and looked over his shoulder towards his ex.

“What do you suggest that we do to convince them?” he asked.

“Well, I can think of a few things if you’re agreeable to them?” Belle said. Good lord, she really couldn’t believe that this might be her chance to finally kiss the man. Of course, it wasn’t exactly real since they were only doing it for show, but she wasn’t going to complain about having the opportunity. “You could kiss me,” she added.

“Really?”

“Really. Quick, I think they’re coming over.”

Without further deliberation, Belle slipped her arms around Gold’s neck and pressed her lips against his. He gave a squeak of surprise at first, but then relaxed into the kiss, returning it with vigour. When they finally broke apart, his eyes were blown with wonder, and out of the corner of her eye, Belle could see his ex’s jaw heading in the vicinity of the floor.

“Kiss me again,” she said quickly. “It’s working.”

He was all too happy to oblige.

Belle didn’t know the moment that they went from kissing to keep up their cover story to kissing because they just wanted to kiss each other, but Belle really didn’t care, and now that she was here in his arms, his hands splayed over her back trying to pull her in closer and closer, as close as he could get her, she didn’t think that she ever wanted to be anywhere else.

Eventually though, she had to let him up for air.

“That was…”

“Yeah…”

“I think we ought to do it again just to make sure.”

“I think you’re right.”

No-one bothered them for the rest of the night, and if anyone, including Belle and Gold, had any doubts as to the veracity of their relationship, then by the end of the party, they were thoroughly quashed.

[ethereal-wishes]

Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?

Gideon coerces his father into building a snowman, and his childlike belief brings it to life. Gold loathed the cold, and snow. However, today he'd made an exception and suppressed his dislike for both. His son, Gideon, grinned childishly as he patted snow together between his gloved hands. They were outside their Victorian, building a snowman. The cold was bitter, and he could see his breath coming out in wisps in front of him. It'd snowed a foot the previous night, and Gideon had awoken him at six that morning, adamant about building a snowman. Belle was inside making breakfast, and he longed to be at her side and out of the cold. The look of pure joy on Gideon's face made it all worth it though. "Papa, help me roll up the snow! If we work together, then maybe we can make a snow woman, a snow brother, and a snow sis-" "Let's just build one at a time, shall we?" he interjected, chuckling at his boy's exuberance. "Okay, Papa!" Gideon nodded amicably, continuing to pack the snow together. Soon they'd formed three round balls and stacked them on top of the other. "He needs a face," Gideon noted, rubbing his chin in contemplation as he mulled over what props to use to complete his creation. "We have carrots in the refrigerator, and I'm sure I have a few obsolete buttons upstairs we could use for eyes," Rumple told him. "Alright, go get them, and I'll wait here," Gideon returned, his eyes transfixed on the snowman. Gold hurried back inside to grab the items, hoping once they finished his snowman he would be ready to come back inside. "You boys about through out there?" Belle asked, flipping a pancake in the skillet. "Hopefully, I'm just going to grab a few buttons from upstairs and a carrot from the fridge before I head back out. Gideon needs something to give the snowman a face," he replied before ascending the stairs. He discovered some buttons in a drawer in their bedroom. When he made his way back downstairs, he saw Belle had laid a carrot on the counter for him. "I'd like to see this snowman of his," Belle supplied, grabbing her coat and boots. He and his wife walked outside to find Gideon running through the yard, being chased by a snow boy. Belle gasped in confusion. "How-" "Magic," Rumple clarified, a hearty chuckle escaping his lips. "But he doesn't know magic," Belle countered, planting her hand on her hip in disbelief. "No but he does have childlike belief, and it's almost Christmas, so magic is potent in the atmosphere this time of year. He believed his snowman would come alive, and his belief was strong enough to conceive it," he illuminated. "Is it safe?" Belle inquired dubiously. "Yes, I'll keep an eye on him though," he reassured her. Rumple watched in amusement as his son and his snow friend laughed and played. Rumple's heart warmed when he gave his snow creation a hug. When he released it, it dissipated between his fingertips, the snow falling back to the earth. Gideon glanced up at the porch, his cheeks ruddy and his eyes bright. "Papa, did you see that!?" He jumped up and down exuberantly. "I certainly did, Gideon, what did you call him?" The pawnbroker inquired curiously. "Bae – I called him Bae, just like my brother," he grinned boyishly, causing his father's heart to wrench with emotion. "Why don't you come back inside and warm up? I believe your mother has breakfast ready," he suggested. "Sure, Papa," Gideon shrugged, traipsing up the steps past him. Rumplestiltskin stood there for a moment longer, gazing out at the white expanse, wondering if there was more to Gideon's snow boy than he realized. Christmas magic was a powerful thing, and though it was impossible to revive the dead, he couldn't shake the feeling that his son had unknowingly spent the entire morning playing with his older brother. Baelfire was watching over them, there was no doubt.

[calamity-calliope]

(Hopping on this trend)

The Pawnbroker, it seems, has chanced to leave the door to his shop unlocked. A foolish move, really. The whole place is cluttered... Very cluttered. There's so much you could snag.

[calamity-calliope]

My submission! The Amicable Pawnbroker, in color! He's got his hat, his stick, and his glasses. Which aren't suspicious at all.

Okay, fallen london community. Show me your ocs.

The Six-finger'd Scrimshander got its camera working, and is going to take a picture of you all at the end of the month. Dress appropriately.

[calamity-calliope]

OC SMASH OR PASS

(jumping on this bandwagon just because) [Thanks @zeebreezin ]

Middle image by @feivelynart. Seriously, go check them out!

Name: Johnathan Morholt Certsey

Age: 40

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Honestly who even knows

☘ Propaganda for:

He is a pawnbroker

Accomplished calliopist - loves playing with and for others

Very lively fellow, and you can count on that day or night.

Just generally spirited and joyful, hardly seen without a smile or a positive attitude

Catfish-shaped <3

Calls you "deary"

Knows many a good zee-ztory, as has no objections to telling them

excellent cook!

Lives and breathes the zee, loves a good adventure on-board with 90-foot flash schooner Calamity!

Fun uncle energy all day every day

Protective of his friends (he would kick ass for you)

Made to cuddle. Loves to give warm hugs.

Whistles jaunty little tunes when he's busy, and you bet he loves to dance

Likes holding hands (his hands are warm)

Embraces eccentricity, and likewise embraces fellow eccentrics

Bookworm

WILL share his big coat you if you are cold

Wouldn't be caught dead being unfaithful in a relationship and works with his other to keep it healthy and meaningful - respecting boundaries when needed.

🤔 ??? propaganda:

Bataireacht practitioner, and he carries his shillelagh with him everywhere. It's his version of a bedside spear.

Sometimes irritatingly curious. If you have antiques and/or a unique, expect that he'll ask about them

He snores 💀

Notable for inadvertently getting himself into troublesome situations. He is generally good at escaping these, but it's a bad habit.

Whatever the Victorian England equivalent of that one family member who disappears into a Yankee Candle and emerges four hours later with $150 worth of candles is.

Sweet-looking for sure but he has one hell of a sailor mouth.

🧨 Propaganda against:

He is a pawnbroker

Has a communication issue - and not in the relational sense. New English speaker who has spoken Gaeilge (Irish) his entire life and you would probably have an easier time reading Finnegan's Wake. To fix this he's learning German!!

Has never been in a full-commitment romantic relationship before

For all of his cheerfulness, he's undeniably suspicious

It's the sun-cult stuff

Carries about him all the faux innocence of a man who has killed, and is bound to kill again

Often out on unspecified business. Several of his clients happen to be located at various places across the zee. It's no whaling journey, but expect him to be gone for months at a time

Not a quick problem solver- the bigger the problem, the more time he needs to think on it, during which the issue tends to worsen.

Sometimes the nightmares get to him.

Very minor but he smells a tad bit like bilgewater

Postage enthusiast, but in an accidentally creepy way. Known for sending vaguely threatening packages to strangers.

Very serious about his religion. Sometimes becomes lost in the bliss of it, and you wonder if this is the same man you knew before.

Straight-up serial killer vibes sometimes

Tagging those willing who haven't done it yet :)

[calamity-calliope]

Stay fishy, delicious friends!

[calamity-calliope]

13 for all :)

- @t6fs

Would they survive a night inside the Bass Pro Shop pyramid?

Honestly, both Enoch and Certsey are perfectly equipped to survive the pyramid. Certsey seems like the guy who'd walk in to grab nothing but fishing lures but get so distracted by all the stuff that he'd forget to leave. Pretty sure IKEA works the same way, and the same thing would happen to him there. He is a crack shot with a bow and arrow, for those who didn't know, and give him the state-of-the art hunting bows that are in a Bass Pro Shop? Good lord I hope you have life insurance, because he's not trapped inside there with you, you're trapped inside there with him, and if he's stuck there for a whole day, you bet he's going to have fun with it.

With Enoch it's similar. He grew up in a rugged landscape and had his soul steeled while riding with Mosby's Men - which included stealth-camping in snow covered mountains for weeks at a time, if need be- so really I do not see him having an issue in the Bass Pro Shop pyramid. I can imagine him taking his time to try on all the camouflage clothes and then falling asleep in a display tent, only to sleepily emerge once dawn breaks and eviscerate the brain matter of the security guard who found him with a single well-placed bullet to the dome ...and then go back to sleep. It's tiring being trapped in a Bass Pro Shop pyramid. Cut him some slack.

[calamity-calliope]

My friends it is party time

The New Sequence is having a great time in London. Or at least three of them are.

[calamity-calliope]

You cannot kill me in a way that matters.

[calamity-calliope]

The Amicable Pawnbroker, Sunless Skies Timeline

Here you go : D

-UNTHESUNTHSUNTHES-

Tis him! :D

Lovely art! Thank you very much!

[calamity-calliope]

Certsey, can you cook or bake? And if so, what do you like to make?

Ah is breá liom a bheith ag cócaireacht! Níl mé an chuid is fearr air, ach is cuma. Ceann de na rudaí is fearr liom le cócaireacht ná oideas stobhach a rinne m’athair agus mé féin. Tá sé an-mhaith agus sásúil, go háirithe ar lá fuar!

Anois, is rud é bácáil nach bhfuil iarracht déanta agam i ndáiríre. Mar is eol dom, tá rialacha éagsúla aige ná cócaireacht. Seans go mbeidh orm triail a bhaint as am éigin, b’fhéidir le cabhair.

[calamity-calliope]

Mr. J. M. Certsey, pawnbroker, just going about his *ahem* business while be prepares to beat the hell out of a mythic giant bat moster, because my man has bills to pay, dammit.

Bag a Legend players, give me your OCs

[calamity-calliope]

Why does the calliopist smile?

The Pawnbroker's calliope, in acrylic paint.

[calamity-calliope]

Beware the calliopist.

(J.M. Certsey, the Amicable Pawnbroker, and his steam calliope.)