A Bed of Thorns

nymfanfic:

I got chapter 87 to 2000 words before I ran out of steam today.  No sign of Rumple or Belle running out of steam. If my protagonists think they’re getting a third smut-centric chapter in a row, they have another think coming.

It was a pale green ribbon, one that Belle had meant for her hair. But she had ribbons enough to amuse her husband, and gold enough to buy as many ribbons as she could ever want. Rumpelstiltskin smoothed the length of soft satin out very carefully, then wound it once about his middle finger and let it dangle across his palm. Only then did he draw down her stocking, and only then did Belle notice that kneeling upon the flagstones by the hearth had ruined the stocking at the knee. She felt a sad little pang, but reminded herself - not for the first time - that the wedding gown and its accoutrements had been made for a different wedding, and for a husband who would likely never see what she wore beneath the full, white skirts. There would be more ribbons; there could be other silk stockings, too.

nymfanfic:

A Bed of Thorns

Chapter Eighty-Six: Seduction

She needed to dig deep into her travelling chest to bring out the underwear that belonged with her wedding dress. It was so horribly restrictive that she had never worn it again, the boned corset which had been so carefully made to lift her bosoms to the neckline of the white dress.

Summary: Belle is no princess, but then Rumpelstiltskin is certainly no prince. His price is her hand in marriage. Alternate Universe.
Rating: Explicit/NC-17.
Status: Work in progress.

mayorfrench:

i generally pro-dark fetus/maybe baby but but but

whereismygarden:

re-reading A Bed of Thorns and actually crying

nabokovsshadows:

Is Rumple’s reaction to Belle telling him she is in fact pregnant with the dark fetus and a discussion on the possibility of a shiny baby lizard like dark one Jr emerging from Belles womb not a normal baby.

nymfanfic:

A year ago, I posted chapter 18 of A Bed of Thorns. 

Neverendingly boggled by how much of my time it’s taken to cover so very little of theirs.

It must’ve been about then that I found out that most of the Once fandom was hanging out on Tumblr, too.

nabokovsshadows:

Into a spin-off HBO series.

nymfanfic:

A Bed of Thorns

Chapter Eighty-Five: Muddying the Waters

He looked more agitated than ever, his expression strained and his eyes hard.

“Hardly the time for visiting,” he said, peevishly, catching Belle by the arm at the gate and looking around - everywhere but at her. “D’you think?”

Summary: Belle is no princess, but then Rumpelstiltskin is certainly no prince. His price is her hand in marriage. Alternate Universe.
Rating: Explicit/NC-17.
Status: Work in progress.

across-the-darkness-in-your-room:

I just started Bed of Thrones (ch 5) and I am currently in a state of bewilderment. I cannot summon the correct words to describe my feelings, for she has made the romance of Rumpelstiltskin and Belle what the writers have thwarted in the series. Unlike the series, the writer has made the characters act as if they are from the past, with their beliefs and customs, whereas with the show it seems people are simply in costume delivering lines more suited for the tongues of modern people, which irks me to no end.

Plus, there isn’t anyway that the level of innocence described existing in both Belle and Rumpelstiltskin would never, ever be shown in the show.

Sorry if this post seems full of anger, it’s not meant to be. I like shows to seem authentic, and as much as I love/am obessed with Once Upon a Time, the powers-that-be have shown their lack of care and thus lead me to the path of better things -i.e. fanfiction. <3

nymfanfic:

“Take Regina at her word *at your peril*,” Rumpelstiltskin said, jabbing a finger towards her. “Where did *she* get it?”

“Tavish didn’t know or care. He didn’t know it wasn’t a real reward. Why should he?” Belle kept to herself the suspicion that Regina had been mocking the man with his fool’s gold. She had no proof of that.

“And to what punishment did you sentence the man who beats his wife, hmm?” Rumpelstiltskin leaned forward still further, beckoning for the information.

“A cell,” Belle told him, trying to keep what remained of her composure. “Until he’s sober. Next market day we’ll decide what to do with him.”

“Well, that’s something I suppose,” Rumpelstiltskin said, throwing himself back in the seat and spreading himself again, feigning that elegant ease again. “A dry cell is a torture for a drinking man. Assuming it doesn’t kill him, what will you do? Send him home to his wife and ask him nicely not to strike her again?”

In truth, Belle preferred his cool amusement at her expense to the explosion of rage that she had been expecting about Regina and the gold coin. Preferred it, but did not *like* it one little bit.

“It’s not for me to decide his fate,” she answered, and went back to looking out of the window. “I’ll try to make sure that his wife and daughters are safe, instead.”

“I can still turn him into a snail. Something furry for your pretty cat to hunt?”

“No!”

“Please yourself.” Folding his arms, Rumpelstiltskin followed her example and avoided looking at her for the rest of the journey.