Read Diary of a (Totally Legit) Supernatural Therapist :: Rumpelstiltskin’s Rant

"You think I’m the villain? Let’s talk about the REAL criminals!"

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Dear Diary,

I’ve had some weird clients.

I’ve had gods.

I’ve had criminals.

I’ve had literal carnivores.

But nothing—and I mean NOTHING—prepared me for Rumpelstiltskin.

This was less a therapy session and more like a one-man Broadway performance.

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Session Begins: Immediate Chaos

The door burst open.

Not "opened." Not "pushed." Burst.

In stormed a tiny man with wild golden curls, glittering eyes, and a coat that looked like it had been stolen from a medieval festival.

"Ah-ha!" He pointed at me dramatically. "So you must be the so-called therapist!"

"Uh… yes?"

He threw himself onto the couch, kicking up his tiny boots. "Good. I have THOUGHTS, Doctor."

"O...kay?" I cautiously grabbed my notepad. "So, Rumpelstiltskin—"

"First of all," he interrupted, waving a dramatic hand, "I AM NOT THE VILLAIN."

I blinked. "I… never said you were?"

He snorted. "Oh, please! Everyone thinks I’m the bad guy! The creepy little goblin man who ‘stole a baby.’ Lies! Propaganda! A hit job on my reputation!"

I cautiously flipped through my notes. "So… you’re not the guy who made a desperate young girl promise him her firstborn child in exchange for saving her life?"

He leapt to his feet. "SEE? That’s the problem right there! You’re only hearing her side of the story!"

I frowned. "Alright, then. Let’s hear your version."

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The Rant Begins: A Misunderstood Entrepreneur?

"Picture this, Doctor." He dramatically flung himself back onto the couch. "A poor young girl, tricked by her greedy, lying father, gets locked in a tower because some idiot king thinks she can spin straw into gold."

I nodded. "Yes, I’m familiar—"

"But can she ACTUALLY do it? No!" He scoffed. "Of course not! Because that’s IMPOSSIBLE!"

"…Right."

"And who swoops in to help this poor, unfortunate soul? Me! A generous businessman!" He gestured wildly. "I spin the straw, save her life, and ask for fair payment."

I raised an eyebrow. "By ‘fair payment,’ you mean her firstborn child."

He waved that off. "She AGREED! You know what a contract is, right?"

"Yes, but—"

"A BINDING AGREEMENT! She didn’t have to say yes! But did she? Oh, she did. And did I force her? No! But suddenly, I’m the monster?" He threw his arms up. "Come on!"

I scribbled: Has a point, but also... baby theft?

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The REAL Villains (According to Him)

"You wanna talk about real villains?" He leaned forward. "How about the girl’s father? He LIED to a king and nearly got his own daughter executed!"

I opened my mouth. Paused. "…Okay, fair."

"And the KING?" Rumpelstiltskin scoffed. "Who the hell marries a girl because she maybe has magic powers? What kind of vetting process is that? The man was clearly an idiot!"

Another fair point.

"And let’s not forget the biggest villain—HER!"

I blinked. "Wait, the miller’s daughter?"

"YES!" He threw himself back dramatically. "She makes a deal, gets exactly what she asks for, and then suddenly she’s too good for the terms? No, no, no! That’s not how contracts work!"

I hesitated. "I mean… she was terrified."

"Oh, sure," he mocked. "Poor little queen suddenly doesn’t want to give up her kid? Boo hoo! Maybe she should’ve thought about that before taking my very generous deal!"

I scribbled down: Holds eternal grudges.

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The Name Game: A Fatal Mistake

"AND ANOTHER THING!" He was standing on my couch now.

"Oh, god."

"You know what REALLY pisses me off?" He jabbed a finger at me. "How I lost."

I tapped my pen. "Because she guessed your name?"

"YES!" He stomped a foot. "Like—WHAT KIND OF RULE IS THAT?! How was I supposed to know that was a loophole?!"

"Well… it was your name."

He huffed. "Oh, please! You don’t go around introducing yourself by your full legal name, do you?"

"…Fair point."

"But nope! She cheats, I lose, and suddenly I’m the bad guy running into the woods like some deranged gremlin!" He crossed his arms, sulking. "I don’t even LIKE forests. Too many squirrels."

I frowned. "Wait… why squirrels?"

"Because they’re judgmental!"

I had no response to that.

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The Exit: No Therapy, Just Chaos

After an exhausting hour of pure ranting, I finally asked, "So… was there an actual reason you came to therapy?"

Rumpelstiltskin blinked. "Oh. No."

"…What."

"I just needed to vent."

I stared. "That’s… not what therapy is for."

He shrugged. "Eh. Felt good, though!" He hopped off the couch, adjusting his coat. "Welp! I’ll be going now!"

"Wait, but—"