theplasticview replied to your post:Are there any little tidbits you could share with...
I was just thinking about this verse the other day!!
:D Well, the chapter is only about 1/3 done. I’ve been bitten by the muse for another fic so I’m trying to finish that up as much as I can and then come back and complete Come Clean.
YES. I HAVE A QUESTION. WNM!RuBY- I need to know in glaring detail the bachlorette party plans. Who's going? Is Jefferson invited? Emma?
Ruby: Oh, it’s going to be good. I’ve only met Emma a few times but she seems like my type of woman. Between the two of us, we should be able to throw Belle a night she’ll never forget. You know, except for the parts where she’s too drunk to remember. That’s probably when we’ll hire the strippers.”Jefferson: “As far as decorations, I’m thinking a fruit theme would go over really well, personally.”Ruby: “Oooh, now there’s a thought.” *writes ‘banana hammocks’ on list*
The House Guest | Dark Lace/Rumbelle | by @b-does-the-write-thing
A creature – scaled in gold and green- wearing the leather hides of other animals was standing before her, arms raised in an imposing gesture- stared down at her in open confusion.
Lacey quirked an eyebrow at him, before collapsing backwards on the bed. “Beat it, Dark One,” she grumbled, flipping over to bury her face in the pillow. She knew she was smearing make up all over it but she didn’t care at the moment. Between the blood and the dirt from her heels, she might as well burn these sheets next.
“But I-“ came the slightly uncertain voice of her drunken imagination. “I can’t until I have answered your wish.”
In honor of @theplasticview‘s birthday, I’ve written a little crack!fic of her wonderfully addictive series “The House Guest”. This AU one shot is written in homage to that original verse and should not be considered canon in any way.
Summary: Lacey stumbles upon the Dark One’s fanfic of “Happy Endings” (aka basically Once Upon A Time) and notices that a couple characters seem rather familiar.
Lacey hadn’t meant to go poking around the Dark One’s house while he was gone.
But when his roommate David had let her into the house on his way out to meet Mary Margaret and DoDo had failed to appear at their prearranged time, she had begun to grow bored as she waited alone in the great big house.
Having been told on a previous visit that she wasn’t allowed to go into DoDo’s library, she naturally headed straight there. He had claimed that he kept dark grimoires there that would be too dangerous for someone with her limited magical skills to be near. Lacey thought his reasoning sounded rather flimsy and decided to find out what he was really hiding.
Two walls of the room were lined with full bookshelves and Lacey found herself lazily scanning the titles. It was only when she glanced out the window, checking again for any sign of DoDo, that she saw the leather-bound book sitting on the desk.
Lacey furrowed her brow. She didn’t remember seeing the book when she had come in, but she supposed she must have missed it in her excitement to get to the bookshelves. It certainly looked important, despite being left out in plain sight for anyone to see.
With a triumphant smile, Lacey walked towards it and opened the cover.
The pages were yellowed with age and covered in spiky scrawl that, at first, looked like another language all together. As Lacey flipped through the pages, however, she slowly began to decipher the practically illegible handwriting.
To her surprise, it was not a spell book after all. In fact, it seemed to be more of – dare, she say it – a diary?
Lacey snorted. If DoDo wanted to keep his secrets hidden, he really had to lock things up better.
She found one of the more recent entries and began to read, stopping short when she realized that she recognized one of the names from DoDo’s favorite television series “Happy Endings”.
“Hold up,” she said. “Is this…fanfic?”
With a rather gleeful laugh, Lacey sank into the desk chair, settling down for what she hoped would prove to be very entertaining reading.
Hope O’Hara stood proudly over the prone form of the Immortal’s seafaring enemy, her rather sizable bosoms heaving breathlessly in her tight leather corset.
With her brown hair, beautiful blue eyes, and an attitude you wouldn't soon forget, she exuded a vengeful loveliness that brought even the darkest of hearts to their knees. As clever as she was breathtakingly gorgeous, she used her innumerable skills to defeat the forces of darkness, often with the assistance of the mystical text that she always carried with her, the legendary Book of the All Knowing.
As she glanced at the unconscious foe at her feet, she realized the heavy tome in her hands had once again come in handy for more than just academic reasons.
Perhaps the hypocritical heroes of the Forbidden Woods would take her love of books more seriously now, she thought smugly.
She prodded the fallen figure with the toe of her six-inch leather heeled boot, and grinned victoriously as he groaned in agony.
‘Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she yelled. “No one messes with my man!”
Just the thought of her lover, the powerful and cursed Immortal, misunderstood by all but her, was enough to make her grow rather hot under her non-existent collar.
“My Immortal,” she called, her tone urgent. “Oh hear me, my Immortal…”
A cloud of periwinkle smoke appeared in the clearing and a moment later, her beloved stepped into her sight. Though his demon-like appearance sometimes frightened those weak of spirit, she found his green and gold scaled appearance to be rather sexy and rugged.
Lacey blinked. The Immortal on the show was slightly scarred from the war his people had fought against their age-old enemies, the Ogrekind, but he did not have scales.
“Oh my god,” she let out a squeal. “He’s cast himself as the main character!”
She dove back in, wondering what other insights she would get into the Dark One’s personality from his personal fantasies.
The Immortal was fitted from toe to heel in dragonhide, though even the rough material was not enough to hide his manly form. Hope drank the sight of him in like a dehydrated camel, desperate for just a drop to quench her thirst.
He exuded confidence from every pore as he strode towards her. That was one of the things she loved about him – his complete lack of self-consciousness. She knew lesser men had telling quirks, nervous movements that gave away their anxieties, but not the Immortal.
Nope, definitely not him. Not this Dark One Immortal.
Lacey let out a loud snort. The writing was horrible. Who would have known that centuries of knowledge and experience had resulted in fanfic that a 13-year-old could write?
Despite this – or maybe because of it – she continued reading eagerly, though she scanned over the 10 page love scene between Hope and the Immortal by the magic wishing well.
It seemed DoDo had acquired some interesting fetishes over the past four hundred years.
The story started to pick up again once some of the other characters from the show arrived. Lacey found herself having trouble keeping track of the timeline – a problem she was rather familiar with from watching the actual show – but it seemed that the well scene had been a flashback and the rest of the action was now taking place in the present day, though slightly ahead of the events of the show’s current season.
The long-unnamed child of the leprechaun lady and the bank robber – who DoDo had decided to name Chartreuse – was now being raised by little Harry’s two moms, the blonde bounty hunter and the brunette senator. They had moved into the senator’s mansion together and were having a big thanksgiving meal with their entire extended family, which currently seemed to include the majority of the portside town.
She wasn’t quite sure what had happened to either woman’s male love interest – the merman and the bank robber were conspicuously absent – but as she had never really shipped either relationship on the show, she was more than happy to see that DoDo had written them off somehow. She had always preferred the untapped potential of the Regal Duck pairing anyway.
Lacey had lost track of how long she’d been reading, though the crack in her neck told her she’d been leaning over the book for quite a while now. The creak of the door opening made her yelp in surprise and she sprang up quickly, turning to hide the book from sight with her body.
Neal stood in the doorway, smirking no doubt at the guilty expression that she was sure was plastered all over her face. Lacey glanced over his shoulder worriedly.
“Is DoDo with you?” she hissed quietly.
“No, I – “
Neal didn’t get a chance to finish before Lacey had bounded across the room, dragging him by his arm towards the book. She waved at it with one hand.
“It seems your father is not only a deal-making demon, but also an aspiring author who dabbles in fanfic.”
Neal’s eyes widened and he began to flip through the pages. “Is this ‘Happy Endings’?”
Lacey nodded emphatically. “He actually wrote himself as the Immortal.”
“Well, considering the writer based the character off of him, that’s not too surprising.”
“So this is an example of life imitating art imitating…uh, life?”
“Um, sure.”
The two fell silent as Neal continued to read. Lacey followed along, watching the array of emotions that crossed his face. She noticed that he seemed to skip over the sex scene even faster than she had. By the time he reached the last page of story, he even looked a bit green.
“I might need a memory potion after that.”
“Don’t be such a big baby,” Lacey said, slapping him on the arm. “Anyway, what’d you think of Hope? I thought her characterization was kind of OOC. She was a bit of a Mary Sue, despite the drinking problem.”
Neal just stared at her, reminding her of how her childhood dance instructor, Madam Mim, had whenever she’d missed something obvious.
“You do realize he rewrote her to sound more like you, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re full of it.”
Neal flipped back to the beginning of the chapter, his finger following along with the words as he spoke. “…brown hair, beautiful blue eyes, and an attitude you wouldn't soon forget. Gee, I wonder who papa could have been thinking about while writing this.”
Lacey shrugged. “So he got her eye color wrong, who cares? That only proves that DoDo is unobservant.”
Neal shook his head, turning to another page and pointing at a passage that was told from the Immortal’s point of view. “He spends three paragraphs here talking about a freckle on her nose.”
“So?” Lacey retorted, rubbing self-consciously at the bridge her nose. “Lots of people have freckles.”
“And I suppose you’ll claim that this is also just a coincidence?”
Leaning towards the sentence that Neal now indicated, Lacey saw where DoDo had begun to write what looked like her name before scratching it out and writing the name Hope instead.
“Yep,” she said, her voice only slightly higher than she would have like. “Coincidence. Nothing more.”
Neal sighed. “Fine, I’ll drop it. For now. But the two of you are going to have to address this thing between you sooner or later.”
She opened her mouth, preparing to tell him that there was no thing between her and DoDo when Neal switched topics, wisely preempting her tirade.
“How did you even find this? I would have thought he’d have this under secure lock and key and guarded by Cerberus or something.”
Lacey shrugged. “It was just lying on top of the desk. He never lets me come in here and I guess he’s not too worried about David wandering in to borrow a book.”
From the look on Neal’s face, she could tell he was skeptical.
“I think the most important question,” Lacey continued, “is what we do now. I’m torn between letting him know I know or pretending I never found it. On the one hand, I get to tease him mercilessly. However, there’s also the chance that he’ll skin me alive for it.”
“He’s certainly skinned people for less,” Neal pointed out dryly.
“Right,” Lacey said decisively. “We’ll just leave it here and pretend we never found it.”
“We?” Neal asked. “Who’s we? You’re the one who found it and made me read it. Do you think I wanted that much insight into my papa’s sexual fantasies? Especially when they involve you?”
Lacey waved a hand at him dismissively. “You’re reading too much into this. The only part of my body that DoDo is after is my soul and he seems to have given up on that these days anyway.”
Neal’s murmured “Yeah, wonder why that is” was not lost on her, but she decided to ignore it anyway.
With one last glance at the page – where the Immortal and Hope were currently engaging in a bit of knife play – Lacey closed the book and followed Neal out of the room, making sure to shut the door behind them.
---------------
DoDo arrived back home a little over an hour later than he had originally planned, several takeout pizzas in hand.
He hadn’t really been in a huge rush, figuring David would keep Lacey company while he was gone. When he appeared in his living room, however, he was surprised to find that not only had his roommate gone out, but his son was now there too.
He was always glad to see Neal though and doubly glad that someone had been there to keep Lacey entertained. A bored Lacey was a fiasco waiting to happen and he had several things in his house he was rather hoping to keep out of her curious hands.
Dinner passed by pleasantly enough, though he would often catch Neal shooting Lacey significant glances. She would always roll her eyes in reply, but the exchange still puzzled him.
Once Lacey left for the night and Neal stumbled tiredly off to the guest bedroom, DoDo made his way into the library. Being around Lacey again that evening had inspired a new idea within him and he was itching to write it down.
He walked towards the desk, freezing in his tracks when he saw the book lying there innocently.
DoDo was sure he hadn’t left it out, despite the late night he had spent the day before writing feverishly. But no one in the household was powerful enough to get through the protection spells he had placed around it on the bookshelf. Even Lacey – he blanched at the thought of her reading some of his more explicit scenes – didn’t have the kind of magical focus it took to break through his enchantments.
No, he thought, shaking his head. He must have forgotten to put it away after writing. After all, he had been tired and rather…distracted….at the time.
He sat down at the desk, summoning his special ink and quill.
“Now,” he said excitedly, rubbing his hands together, “let the Author’s work begin!”
Author’s Note: Happy birthday, darling! I hope you enjoyed my ridiculous offering and have an amazing rest of your day!
OKay first of ALLL. HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY DARLING! I hope you had a wonderful beautiful day and it was everything you wanted and more. SECONDLY, CONGRATS ON YOUR ENGAGEMENT! Your ring is beautiful and I'm so happy for you and can't wait to hear all about your wedding wonders! <3
THANK YOU SO MUCH!! Ahh I have such a backlog of these messages but I’ll get through them all!
My birthday was amazing and so was the proposal. I’m still a bit foggy-headed about it. Mom is shoving all this wedding stuff at me and the ring is on my finger but I’m like “Hang on we gotta make sure he still likes me and that this is forreal and I have no idea what to do.”THANK YOU THOUGH!! The wedding will be...an experience for sure. I’m so nervous but I got a year to plan! Yeah!
@theplasticview prompted: “Football jerseys. (I won’t designate American/Everyone else.)”
Since it’s the Super Bowl, I thought this a very apt prompt!
Rated: PG
====
“Tell me again why we’re doing this?” Rumpel grouses from the living room doorway.
“It’s a great American event,” Belle says firmly. She’s busy rearranging the furniture so that all of their prospective guests have a better view of the TV. She’s already set out the snacks, and now they’re just waiting for everyone to arrive. “Besides, Henry thought it would be a good idea to get everyone together and we’ve got the largest living room.”
“Thanksgiving is a great American event but we don’t celebrate that.” Rumpel makes to take a step into the room but Belle stops him.
“Ah ah ah, no, you stay there since you’re so determined to cause trouble. You can come in when I’ve got everything perfect.”
“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” Rumpel raises an eyebrow as Belle shoves an easy chair a couple of inches across the room with great physical effort. “I could always…” He waggles his fingers and Belle narrows her eyes.
“Rumpel, the entire reason you were banned from the living room whilst I got things ready was precisely because you were very definitely NOT helping. And you know the rule on magic. Life-threatening situations only!”
“I’d say that you giving almost giving yourself a hernia or putting your back out from moving furniture qualifies as a life-threatening situation,” Rumpel replies conversationally.
Belle just huffs and proceeds to ignore him until she’s got the room just so and she steps back to admire her handiwork, hands on hips and a very satisfied expression on her face.
“There, perfect,” she says. “You’re allowed to come in now.”
Rumpel dutifully enters the room and gives it the appropriate level of attention and an impressed nod.
“You’ve done remarkably,” he said.
“I know.” Belle sounds very pleased with herself and he can’t really say that he blames her.
“I have to ask though,” Rumpel continues, looking around at the rearranged furniture, which includes some of their dining chairs brought through from the other room, and the vast array of food and drink piled up on the table, “exactly how many visitors are we expecting?”
His eyes widen as Belle reels off their guest list.
“We won’t have enough chairs.”
“That’s all right.” Belle grins. “I’m sure you won’t mind me sitting on your lap.”
Rumpel huffs, but it’s only half-hearted.
“I can’t believe that half the town are coming here to watch one lousy football game,” he grumbles.
“It’s not half the town, it’s Henry’s family,” Belle scolds.
“That is half the town,” Rumpel points out.
“Fair point, but irrelevant. This is Henry’s idea and he’ll be here any minute, so I need to go and get ready.”
Rumpel looks her up and down from head to foot.
“You look very ready to me,” he says.
“No, no, I need to get changed.”
“You look lovely,” Rumpel protests.
Belle just smiles and bops his nose with a fingertip on her way past out of the room. “I know, but that’s not the point.”
“What is the point then?”
“We’re watching a football game and I’m going to show my support in a football jersey,” she calls from the stairs.
Rumpel takes a moment to process this information then follows her out of the room.
“Belle, do you even know which teams are playing?”
“Of course I do, it’s the Denver Broncos and the Carolina Panthers, and the fact that the jersey I bought is for neither of those teams will allow me to show my support for whichever one is winning at any given time.”
Rumpel sighs and follows her up the stairs.
“I think I’m rubbing off on you,” he mutters as he reaches their bedroom to meet the sight of Belle’s lemon yellow bra as she pulls the shirt over her head. “I’m a very bad influence.”
“You’re an absolutely terrible influence,” Belle says once the shirt is on and she’s admiring herself in the mirror. “Luckily I’m a very good influence on you so we cancel each other out. Now, come on. I got you one too.”
Rumpel raises an eyebrow.
“No.”
Belle pouts. “Please Rumpel. Everyone else will be wearing them.”
“Belle, I will look ridiculous.”
“No, you’ll look very dashing like you always do.”
“No, I will not.”
“Do I look ridiculous in mine?” Belle asks pointedly. Rumpel shakes his head.
“No, but you would look lovely wearing a paper bag. Some people are not meant to wear football jerseys and I am one of them.”
Belle just gives him a Look. She’s been giving him that Look a lot recently, and all of the times have been in relation to this damned impromptu party.
Then the Look melts into something altogether more seductive and she sidles up to him.
“Maybe, if you wear your football jersey, later I’ll show you the cheerleader costume I bought at the same time,” she says.
Now, Rumpel definitely likes the sound of that.
“And maybe, if you’re very good and don’t antagonise any of our guests this afternoon...” Belle continues, her voice a soft purr in his ear, “I might be persuaded to forget to put any underwear on beneath the cheerleader costume.”
Rumpel narrows his eyes.
“I swear you were never this devious when I first married you.”
Belle just gives him her sweetest, most innocent smile, and leaves the room.
X
As soon as their guests start arriving and Rumpel sees that they are all indeed wearing various football jerseys, he feels less ridiculous. And of course, Belle is in her element, happily surrounded by her extended family. It doesn’t matter that none of them are actually related to her, she welcomes them all as extensions of Henry’s family. By the time everyone arrives, there are ten people including the house owners in the living room, including Roland looking criminally adorable in a football jersey several sizes too big.
“It was the smallest one they had,” Regina explains. She and Rumpel are standing in the living room doorway fortifying themselves with strong liquor. Whilst they’re both willing to do pretty much anything for Henry’s sake, including attend a Super Bowl watching party (Rumpel grumbles that he had no excuse to miss it since it was being held in his own house, and Regina just gives him one of Belle’s Looks), they both do need a little alcoholic assistance to get through an evening with so many people with whom their past relations are prickly to say the very least. But here, looking at the rest of the family as they sprawl in various positions in the living room watching the half-time show, Rumpel begins to think that maybe things are finally coming together and the family is becoming just that, an actual family, with all its screw-ups and problems, but a real family nonetheless. Henry and Roland are attacking the Doritos; Mary Margaret, David and Robin are discussing… something boring, no doubt, and Emma and Neal are just lazing on the sofa together, the closest that Rumpel has seen them since everything calmed down and they began making tentative steps towards each other again.
And Belle, well, Belle is just Belle, and she’s perfect.
The game begins again, and Rumpel returns his attention to the screen, ready for a second round of tedium and counting down the minutes, buoyed up by the thought of cheerleading outfits.
Belle comes over and slips her arms around his middle, resting her chin against his chest.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“For what?” Rumpel asks. “This is all your hard work. I should be the one thanking you.”
“Thank you for going along with it.”
Rumpel just smiles and holds Belle close. In the end, as much as he might grumble, he’s glad he agreed to the venture as well.
britney: twinkle lights and photos above your bed, letting time pass in a field of flowers, raspberry drinks full of bubbles, when your favorite books match
