I think victor krum might be one of my favorite hp chars when faced with the challenge of having to breathe underwater victor krum decides to turn his head into a shark that’s the kind of quality I admire in a man
It’s been two hours now since Rumplestiltskin has moved from his place on the couch, staring almost unblinkingly into nothingness. Belle doesn’t know what to do, where to even begin, as she’s not entirely sure what horrible things the Wicked Witch had forced him to do while under her control, though she has some idea.
She sits down carefully next to him and he doesn’t even blink.
"Rumple," she says softly, gingerly, as if her words are footsteps on shattered glass. He doesn’t respond. "Rumple, please look at me.”
At the sound of tears in her voice, he turns at last, and she very near flinches at the turmoil in his gaze. She threads her fingers gently through Rumplestiltskin’s hair, stroking it slowly in the hopes that it may soothe him. His eyes drift shut, and she watches a tear escape from the corner of one. Her heart twists painfully in her chest.
"Belle…" he murmurs quietly, pulling her to his chest and burying his face into her hair. "Belle the things… she made me…”
"Shhh," she hushes him, rubbing circles on his back, feeling him tremble slightly. "It’s over, it’s okay now."
He pulls back to look into her eyes. “But she… and I had to… I’m sorry.”
Belle shakes her head, knowing what he’s going to say and not caring in the slightest. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here now, and we’re together, and you aren’t de—” Belle pauses, taking a shaky breath, and Rumple brushes his thumb gently over her cheekbone. “You’re with me. And that’s all I care about.”
Before she can register, his lips are suddenly on hers, hard and passionate and unyielding. His mouth is bruising and his fingers twist into her hair a little too hard, but she doesn’t care, because right now her nails are probably drawing blood from his back. All it does is remind them each of their immediacy; a physical confirmation that yes, after all they’ve been through, they’re both still here. And that’s more important than any curse ever will be.
After Emilie tweeted that Belle and Rumple lived together, I just couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Now that I am beginning to get bombarded with finals prep, I figured there was no time better to finally sit down and write this! Enjoy, and as always, comments and…
Mr. Gold is attracted to Belle and he doesnt know how to ask her out.
So this takes place in my Where is my mind? verse. It takes place shortly before the events of that fic.
She was beautiful, that was certain. And the Universe in its infinite wisdom had seen fit to bless Storybrooke with two of them, identical from the tops of their auburn heads to the soles of their dainty feet.
Physical likeness aside, the sisters couldn’t be more different. Lacey sauntered around town like she owned the place, oozing sensuality in barely there outfits and brassy demeanor. She was the twin who stood out, who demanded your attention. But it was Belle who caught his eye, flitting around his shop bringing light to the dusty corners of his life.
After Belle and Rumple are reunited and Zelena is defeated, they go together for Rumple to apology to tiny Roland for scaring him. <3
They hadn’t had the chance to do this in a very long time. Spells and curses and mysterious other worlds had kept them apart. But now they had a chance to do the simplest things two people in love could possibly do. Like walk in the woods.
With Gold’s leg cured, they could hike to all sorts of spots in the forest. They talked for hours about the oddest things, avoiding topics that neither one of them had the heart to bring up. He picked wild flowers for her and slipped one in her hair before kissing her so hard Belle thought her knees were going to give out.
“My feelings are not God. God is God. My feelings do not define truth. God’s word defines truth. My feelings are echoes and responses to what my mind perceives. And sometimes - many times - my feelings are out of sync with the truth. When that happens - and it happens every day in some measure - I try not to bend the truth to justify my imperfect feelings, but rather, I plead with God: Purify my perceptions of your truth and transform my feelings so that they are in sync with the truth.”—John Piper (via littlethingsaboutgod)
I don’t know what asshole invented the idea that teenage girls are the cause for all evil, but I really hope that person never has to raise one. I don’t want him to see her dissolve in his fingers as society tells her to eat less, be thinner, be the damsel in distress, be something for a man to fix, be different but not too different, be special but never ever a special snowflake - I don’t want him to watch as she realizes that no matter what she loves, she’ll be made fun of for it. She can simply like her coffee from Starbucks and suddenly she’s vapid and thinks herself poetic. She’ll want to play video games but be called a fake nerd, particularly if she poses in any remotely flirtatious way because for some reason despite the entire community playing games with poorly dressed women they still hate it when a real girl wears less clothing, she will be seen as trespassing in a specifically male space - but when she falls in love with a female-based television show for children, she’ll watch as men step on themselves to sexualize it. If she wants old-fashion romance she’s seen as being naive but at the same time is told to keep herself ‘pure’ for some dude that might not hurt her. If she admits to being anything, she makes herself a target. She will be told her worth is based on how much a man values her. She might love to cook but she’ll hate being asked to stay in the kitchen, she might love to read but get told she’s too introverted by half the population and ‘not that special’ by the other. If she loves to go out and party, she’s ‘just another college co-ed,’ if she loves to spend her friday nights watching anime, she’s a shut-in. God forbid she be proud of something: the words “I’m different from other girls” are a death sentence because we live in a society that doesn’t want to see women like that, a society that doesn’t like the idea maybe we all are actually different and not carbon copies of each other, maybe we all would like to feel unique and loved and worth knowing - maybe the real problem is that she will be raised to believe being a girl means silicone and photoshop and dying as a way to move forwards a plot - and she doesn’t want to be seen as that. When she says “I’m not like other girls,” she means she’s not like the girls she sees on tv, these invented two-dimensional creatures that say one line and then get chased down by monsters.
She can try all she likes. She’ll be shut down at every single fucking turn. What she doesn’t know is that they’re getting her ready for when she’s grown up because she’ll be so used to being stepped on she’ll just give up. Why respect women when you don’t even respect little girls?
And when she is burning up, when she mentions that her insides are volcanoes and her skin is too thin to contain them: she will be told she is hysterical, that she’s doing it for attention.
I don’t want him to watch as she shuts down, as she learns to live as a paradox, I don’t want him to see her rip herself to shreds in order to be perfect, I don’t want him to realize that there’s no way she’ll get help because she’s only doing what she’s told.
”—Teenage girls aren’t the downfall of society, society is the downfall of teenagegirls. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)