Secret Santa for abarero, 1 / ?
Title: The Snuggly Duckling Finishing School of Romance
Written For: abarero
Fandom: Disney: Tangled
Request Written: Rapunzel/Eugene. Post-movie. Eugene wants to get an extra special gift for Rapunzel, but isn't sure what. Cue hijinks and the Snuggly Duckling Thugs helping out. (gift can be for their land's form of Christmas or her Birthday)
Rating: PG
A/N: This is part 1 of 2, possibly three. I'm not sure yet how the writing is going to end up breaking, but I wanted to have a little something up in time for Christmas!
Once upon a time and long, long ago, in an old storybook that was loved and tattered by many grubby hands looking for just a piece of hope to snatch onto, there lived a rich and dashing swashbuckler who found adventure wherever he turned.
This is not his story.
Also once upon a time, but a bit less long ago, a boy with little hope and fewer prospects made the swashbuckler's dream his own. He left the place of his childhood, learned the skills of battle and horsemanship, stealth and showmanship, and created adventure (and mayhem) wherever he turned, typically by taking things that didn't belong to him. He became dashing and daring (unable to trust), ambitious (lonely) the perfect picture of manhood, who always got the girl.
Err, just the one girl, really, just the one. Once he met her that was it, he was done, considered no others, definitely only her.
It just took awhile to get there.
But this is not that guy's story either, not exactly.
Let me tell you, falling in love with a lost princess is one of those things that life-normal or otherwise-just doesn't prepare you for. One day you're an absurdly handsome, happy-go-lucky thief working on building a name and a legend that match the cathedrals of glory in your head, with enough stolen loot to finance the building of said cathedrals, or at least a nice chateau or three. A few days later you're still absurdly handsome, except a bit more bruised and battered and probably concussed, and you find yourself nobly willing to die for the sake of some big green eyes and a freckled nose.
Oh man, the freckles are just too cute!
Ahem, yes, my friends, this is the story of a reformed man, changed by the love of the noblest, bravest, sweetest, and most ridiculously adorable of princesses!
...I am pathetic, and I don't care. I'm an ex-con who's head over heels for the first and only time in my life. I'm an ex-thief who's completely terrified because it's been about a year, which means she's got a birthday coming up again, and I have no idea what in the world to get a girl who already has everything.
Yes, she was raised in near total isolation and seriously deprived as a child, but she's got enough enthusiasm to power the sun (Princess of Corona, right down to her bones) and, from the moment her bare toes touched grass outside that tower, she's been making great headway making up for lost time.
You've heard the tale of how we met, right? Everybody in the kingdom has. A lot of people even saw pieces of it happen, what with all the hair and the dancing and the lanterns and the soldiers everywhere and the way I white-knighted myself at turbo-speed through the kingdom. (Max really is an amazing horse. Just don't tell him I said that.) There was a lot going on before that too; maybe you've heard and maybe you haven't. It isn't that important at the moment.
The gist of it all is that you have this amazing adventure, the likes of which you never could have imagined, and you've always had a pretty vivid imagination so that's really saying something. But then, what do you do when it's over? The wicked witch is destroyed, the princess is safely delivered back to the castle, the kingdom rejoices, and one Eugene Fitzherbert finds out that rib-crushing hugs may just be genetic. Happily ever after, right?
She's the new dream, end of story. (Beginning of new story.) You want her, and amazingly enough it looks like you have a legitimate shot at having her and keeping her, if only you can work up the nerve to ask. Again. Sincerely. In a way that lets her know that you are absolutely not joking about it this time.
The problem is that she's still a princess and you're still an orphan (and decidedly not an amnesiac long lost prince or heir to a duchy or even heir to a grist mill) who became a thief, and even if she doesn't care at all and her parents oddly don't seem to mind too much, there's still this feeling of being… off. Different. Lacking in appropriate manners and regal mores. Not quite good enough.
Ah, who am I kidding? I'm not good enough, really, but Rapunzel likes me-a lot, I hope, because I am a goner over her-so that's just going to have to be good enough. For now.
In the meantime, there's still that little matter of a birthday and what to get the girl who has everything-more importantly, really, what to get the girl who holds your heart. I know what I'd like to give her, more than anything.
It's round and has no beginning or end and should fit nicely on one of those lovely paint-stained fingers, if only I could find out what size said lovely finger is. (Believe me, there are few things as crushing to the ego as a massive, flawless diamond ring made for hands larger than yours falling into the gaping maw of a river otter while you hide suspended beneath a bridge.)
Yeah, I want to marry her.
Who wouldn't?
I don't have a fancy ring yet, but I want to go ahead and ask anyway. And I want to ask her on her birthday because this will be only the second year that she's really gotten anything nice. I am about the nicest present I could give her. No, really. I don't have much that I can call solely my own since going straight. Just me, myself, and I.
I'm going to propose on her birthday.
I am.
I'm just not sure how to make myself ready for that conversation.
Written For: abarero
Fandom: Disney: Tangled
Request Written: Rapunzel/Eugene. Post-movie. Eugene wants to get an extra special gift for Rapunzel, but isn't sure what. Cue hijinks and the Snuggly Duckling Thugs helping out. (gift can be for their land's form of Christmas or her Birthday)
Rating: PG
A/N: This is part 1 of 2, possibly three. I'm not sure yet how the writing is going to end up breaking, but I wanted to have a little something up in time for Christmas!
Once upon a time and long, long ago, in an old storybook that was loved and tattered by many grubby hands looking for just a piece of hope to snatch onto, there lived a rich and dashing swashbuckler who found adventure wherever he turned.
This is not his story.
Also once upon a time, but a bit less long ago, a boy with little hope and fewer prospects made the swashbuckler's dream his own. He left the place of his childhood, learned the skills of battle and horsemanship, stealth and showmanship, and created adventure (and mayhem) wherever he turned, typically by taking things that didn't belong to him. He became dashing and daring (unable to trust), ambitious (lonely) the perfect picture of manhood, who always got the girl.
Err, just the one girl, really, just the one. Once he met her that was it, he was done, considered no others, definitely only her.
It just took awhile to get there.
But this is not that guy's story either, not exactly.
Let me tell you, falling in love with a lost princess is one of those things that life-normal or otherwise-just doesn't prepare you for. One day you're an absurdly handsome, happy-go-lucky thief working on building a name and a legend that match the cathedrals of glory in your head, with enough stolen loot to finance the building of said cathedrals, or at least a nice chateau or three. A few days later you're still absurdly handsome, except a bit more bruised and battered and probably concussed, and you find yourself nobly willing to die for the sake of some big green eyes and a freckled nose.
Oh man, the freckles are just too cute!
Ahem, yes, my friends, this is the story of a reformed man, changed by the love of the noblest, bravest, sweetest, and most ridiculously adorable of princesses!
...I am pathetic, and I don't care. I'm an ex-con who's head over heels for the first and only time in my life. I'm an ex-thief who's completely terrified because it's been about a year, which means she's got a birthday coming up again, and I have no idea what in the world to get a girl who already has everything.
Yes, she was raised in near total isolation and seriously deprived as a child, but she's got enough enthusiasm to power the sun (Princess of Corona, right down to her bones) and, from the moment her bare toes touched grass outside that tower, she's been making great headway making up for lost time.
You've heard the tale of how we met, right? Everybody in the kingdom has. A lot of people even saw pieces of it happen, what with all the hair and the dancing and the lanterns and the soldiers everywhere and the way I white-knighted myself at turbo-speed through the kingdom. (Max really is an amazing horse. Just don't tell him I said that.) There was a lot going on before that too; maybe you've heard and maybe you haven't. It isn't that important at the moment.
The gist of it all is that you have this amazing adventure, the likes of which you never could have imagined, and you've always had a pretty vivid imagination so that's really saying something. But then, what do you do when it's over? The wicked witch is destroyed, the princess is safely delivered back to the castle, the kingdom rejoices, and one Eugene Fitzherbert finds out that rib-crushing hugs may just be genetic. Happily ever after, right?
She's the new dream, end of story. (Beginning of new story.) You want her, and amazingly enough it looks like you have a legitimate shot at having her and keeping her, if only you can work up the nerve to ask. Again. Sincerely. In a way that lets her know that you are absolutely not joking about it this time.
The problem is that she's still a princess and you're still an orphan (and decidedly not an amnesiac long lost prince or heir to a duchy or even heir to a grist mill) who became a thief, and even if she doesn't care at all and her parents oddly don't seem to mind too much, there's still this feeling of being… off. Different. Lacking in appropriate manners and regal mores. Not quite good enough.
Ah, who am I kidding? I'm not good enough, really, but Rapunzel likes me-a lot, I hope, because I am a goner over her-so that's just going to have to be good enough. For now.
In the meantime, there's still that little matter of a birthday and what to get the girl who has everything-more importantly, really, what to get the girl who holds your heart. I know what I'd like to give her, more than anything.
It's round and has no beginning or end and should fit nicely on one of those lovely paint-stained fingers, if only I could find out what size said lovely finger is. (Believe me, there are few things as crushing to the ego as a massive, flawless diamond ring made for hands larger than yours falling into the gaping maw of a river otter while you hide suspended beneath a bridge.)
Yeah, I want to marry her.
Who wouldn't?
I don't have a fancy ring yet, but I want to go ahead and ask anyway. And I want to ask her on her birthday because this will be only the second year that she's really gotten anything nice. I am about the nicest present I could give her. No, really. I don't have much that I can call solely my own since going straight. Just me, myself, and I.
I'm going to propose on her birthday.
I am.
I'm just not sure how to make myself ready for that conversation.