So this is a thing I wrote tonight. It’s not over yet. I just wanted to give you guys this bit tonight. I’ll probably write some more on it over Thanksgiving (pray for me and my massive amounts of school works!). Let me know what you think and what kinds of feels it induces in you! :P Also, it takes place directly after “This is Not America,” and I wrote under the idea that Annie wasn’t actually in love with Simon (because I thought it was wrong for the writers to do that anyway).
So, yeah, please enjoy. :)
Feeling as though she had no other options, Annie pulled out her phone and dialed his number. “Eyal?” she asked when he answered. “My flight’s been cancelled. Looks like I’m not going to be leaving Israel today. Mind helping me out?”
“Of course not, neshema,” Eyal responded, and Annie could hear the smile spreading on his lips. “I’ll head back to the airport right now.”
Annie checked her bag to make sure the file on Simon was still tucked away as she headed back out into the Tel Aviv sun. Would Eyal be taking her to a hotel…or would she be staying with him? Auggie had said the Agency wouldn’t mind paying for a hotel room since her flight was cancelled, but did she really want to spend the night alone in a hotel…when she could be with Eyal? It was no secret how thrilling it was just to be around him, how her pulse quickened each time she caught his eye or felt his touch.
But what about Simon?, a little voice asked in the back of her mind. Annie told it to shut up. Simon was work, nothing more. Eyal was a completely different matter. From the first time she’d met him in Zurich, she’d felt an undeniable attraction and affection between them. She didn’t, however, know if he returned the sentiment.
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Look, everyone, I wrote a ficlet. I’ve been trying to cope with my massive Annie/Eyal feels, but there is so little fanfiction about them. So I wrote some. At 3am. When I should have been doing research. Whoops.
Be Not Lonely
As the door thudded closed, she blinked back a couple of tears. All through dinner, Annie had half-hoped he would stay, had wanted him to remain there with her through the night. She felt as though she was finally crashing down from the adrenaline that had been steadily pumping through her since Simon was killed. And it wasn’t a great trip down. Spending the night alone in a strange apartment wasn’t the best solution either.
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Hi! So, the other day, I was listening to “Porcelain Fists” by Ingrid Michaelson, and I heard the line “so I walked into your eyes without a raincoat on.” That inspired part of this little story. Then, I needed someway to get Belle into Gold’s eyes. So, I just built around the middle! I also wanted to write something that demonstrated what it must be like for Storybooke Belle to be remembering everything and dealing with all of those emotions.Anyway, hope you’ll like this! :)
“Ruby,” Izzy began one spring night at Granny’s Diner. “Do you ever feel like you have memories you…don’t remember?”
“What, like déjà vu?” Ruby asked as she fiddled with one bright red peek-a-boo streak and flipped through the diner’s ledger, her brows knit in concentration.
“No, not like that,” Izzy said. “More like…you have memories of things from…before. You remember things that happened before now.”
“Oh, like past lives and stuff? Reincarnation?” Ruby closed the ledger, tucked it back into its place behind the counter, and propped her elbows on the counter, chin in hands.
“Not like that either,” Izzy replied, dismayed. “I don’t know how to describe it. Like, memories from a life before this one, but…you were still…yourself. Just different. Everything was different.” Izzy stared at the mug in her hands, feeling foolish for bringing the subject up at all.
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Hi, guys! So, I had a strange process in writing this little piece. It started off with the scene in the shop, but then I had a different idea for it. I remembered my brother telling me about he’d won a first kiss from a girl in the exact manner Gold wins this kiss. I’ve always thought that was terribly sweet, to ask permission before kissing a girl, and to ask for it in such a romantic way. So, I made Gold do it because I think he’s a romantic at heart! :P Enjoy! <3, A.
In the wake of her unplanned release from the psychiatric ward of Storybrooke General Hospital, Isabelle French had found making friends in a town filled with people who thought you were a raving lunatic to be quite the challenge. Sheriff Swan was compassionate and concerned, but Isa could always see the suspicion in her eyes, how she was constantly on guard in case the timid but steely Ms. French suffered another breakdown. Even her old friend Ruby had an air of distrust whenever Isa would laugh too loudly or start daydreaming for too long. The kindly schoolteacher, Ms. Blanchard, was probably the closest thing she had to real female friend; town outcasts have to stick together, after all.
The only person she knew was really, seriously, honest-to-God her friend was, oddly enough, fierce and untrustworthy Mr. Gold. Again, there’s something about being a pariah that brings people together, despite completely opposing natures.
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I don’t know why I have this strange fascination with RumBelle and breakfast! But this one feels sad to begin with, I know, but it’s hopeful. Because, you know, “love is hope” and all that. Also, I may or may not have named Storybrooke Gaston Justin because of Justin Gaston. He’s very pretty, don’t judge me!
It had been almost eight months since the fire at Storybrooke General Hospital. Since then, Isabella French had been tightly confined in her father’s home, except for her regular visits to Dr. Hopper, who was charged with ensuring Storybrooke’s librarian didn’t have another mental break, and Sunday breakfasts with Justin at Granny’s.
Winning the privilege of the weekly breakfast was quite the fight for Isabella. Bother her father and the mayor were against the idea, saying that, even after four months without incidence, she could easily slip back into whatever madness it was that had resulted in her being locked up. But it was small privilege Isa had fought hard to win. She needed to be somewhere other than her father’s home and shop and Dr. Hopper’s office. She needed to see people and be seen by people. If she simply stayed locked up, all of Storybrooke would simply continue to write her off as the “mad librarian.”
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This is something I worked on a couple of weeks ago. It’s actually a little bit longer than this, but I wasn’t really sure about the direction it was going in at that point (hint: Henry and Emma visit the library). And, as much as I love all of the fics about Gold and Belle living happily ever after, I haven’t really seen any that show her wanting to pursue something other than Gold and their life together. So I made it happen. :)
“I want to go back to work,” she said suddenly one night over dinner. “I had a life before Regina locked me up, and I want to get back to it now.”
Gold set down his utensils, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and cleared his throat. “Love, how many times must I explain this to you?” he began, patiently, like he had so many times now. “You never had a job. You never actually worked in the library. You just think you did.”
“I understand that,” she said. “I understand any of my memories form before I was in the room are just part of the curse, but…everyone has a place here. Except for me. My place was supposed to be the missing, crazy librarian locked in the hospital basement. But I’m free now. You saved me. I don’t have to be that person anymore.”
“You aren’t that person, dearie,” Gold told her. “You’re free, and you’re here with me. We have each other.” He spoke plainly and easily, as he often did these days when dealing with his fragile partner. Despite all of her strength and fierce intelligence, the time she’d spent “away” had made Belle a little nervous and easily upset.
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So, I just wanted to take a moment to say how COMPLETELY WONDERFUL this fandom is. You guys are spectacular! :) <3, A.
PS - if anyone wants to send me a prompt, I AM GAME.
I have a very strange love for all of the pregnancy fan fictions I’ve been reading. I don’t quite knows why I like them so much, but even the sad ones just…ugh, they are too awesome! So I made one. It’s happy. woot woot. :) <3, A.
Gold has a long list of things he loves coming home to these days. The smell of “breakfast for dinner” wafting through the house. The sound of her singing, loudly and a little off-key, as she works on sewing a new blouse or dress. The sight of standing on tip-toes in lace underwear and one of his old dress shirts, trying to reach a book on one of the higher shelves. The taste of her surprise kisses at the door, an intoxicating mixture of coffee and peach and blackberry and everything that was good and right and wonderful in the world. The feeling of her hands across his shoulders, removing his jacket, taking his hand, and leading him to whatever excitement she’d concocted for that evening in their quiet home. The sensory onslaught he came under whenever he entered his home that reassured him that she was there, whole and real and full of life, was more than enough to push whatever unpleasantries had passed during the workday to the back of his mind.
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Warning: this one is sad, too. I’m sorry. Also, it’s based in Storybrooke before Emma’s arrival (which, of course means a great appearance from SHERIFF GRAHAM!!). I don’t feel like this one is as good as the first. It didn’t come as naturally. But still…I hope you enjoy it! :)
There was a strange commotion going on in sleepy Storybrooke. The town which had so neatly passed just over two decades in a hazy blur was experiencing a “minor incident,” as Sheriff Graham would call it in his official report. A lunatic had escaped from Storybrooke General and was causing a scene outside of the boarded-up library. A distressed Ruby had been the first to call it in, followed by an incredibly angry Regina, who had threatened him with all manner of tortures if he didn’t get the escaped loony back into the hospital before 8am.
Graham had reluctantly rolled out of his messy bed in his dingy apartment, threw his leather jacket over his rumpled t-shirt, pulled on his jeans, and slipped his badge and gun into his pocket. He headed out the door and down the street, not quite knowing what he would be getting into but not expecting anything really dangerous. It was just a crazy girl roaming the streets? Really, what could make that so bad?
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I like that you people have liked my little story. I think I shall write more things. I had another idea while at lunch today, and it’s really sad, but I just can’t resist! D: