#fff162

[helloliriels]

An Unexpected Letter

Months had gone by since his return to the Shire.

Months ...

. Of aimlessly wandering around his beloved house. Now he was done settling in; Settling debts; Settling scores. He had peace. At last.

He had quiet.

. He had tea!

.

It was everything he had ever wanted? Begged for! Hoped for and yet ...

As he sat there on the 111th day, alone. He felt it.

The oppressive loneliness,

. Of this life he had chosen.

.

Choking back a unexpected lump in his throat, he faced the reality;

It was only a house.

A house ... that no longer felt like his home.

.

That moment upon waking;

And just before bed;

Asking himself,

. 'Why?'

.

The worse part of it was ...

. He knew who was really asking ...

.

..............

The sun was setting. The tea poured. A bonfire lit on the rocky outcropping where the thrush had first shown Bilbo the door into the lonely mountain ...

And Thorin was celebrating!

And yet Bilbo ... had looked away.

. Back towards the Shire.

. Back to home.

.

Thorin had known, then.

.

"Why?" he asked.

Feeling the silence between them.

The misery written, even in asking.

... And Bilbo had not even turned as he spoke. Not wanting to see the betrayal on his closest, dearest friend's face;

. "It's my home."

..................

.

Now he stared at that same home -

and wanted to take it all back:

To turn around this time, and look at Thorin!

.

He knew now ... his answer would have been very different.

.

But the thrush only knocks twice.

And Bilbo had refused both opportunities to say something different. The first time out of ignorance. The second time, out of fear.

.

As he cleaned up the tea things and scrubbed at his hands harder than he should've - he knicked himself. A gutteral sound, not quite human, tearing from his throat. He tossed the teacup against the nearest surface and felt it shatter. Like his heart.

Then gave in to the tears of frustration.

.

.

...................................

.

"bILBO BAGgins?" A voice was calling from outside.

More knocking;

. A banging at the door.

.

. ... More?

. ... When had it begun?

.

Bilbo slowly rose from the floor. Face tear streaked and swollen. Finger wrapped in a dishcloth ... and tiptoed around the shattered remains of his temper, to check ... wary of a visitor.

"BILBO! I KNOW YOU"re there...."

He squeaked with a start! As Gandalf's enormous face appeared in his circular window, peering in.

.

Bilbo trailed the tall shadows that fell across the living room, hall and entry floor to receive the wizard.

"Alright, alright! Half a minute!" he muttered, swinging the door wide, "where's the fire, then?"

He put on a gruff face and sniffed, while looking away.

He hadn't expected to see anyone tonight, much less entertain ... The memory bringing back hot tears to his eyes.

He folded his arms for extra prickliness.

.

"You don't have to pretend for my sake, you know?" Gandalf's voice softened.

"And what would I be pretending?" he gruffed back. Finally meeting Gandalf's gaze.

Gandalf challenged his angry glare and simply nodded. Pulling something from beneath his robe.

. "... pretending you haven't been wishing for the thrush to knock thrice? Perhaps?" he asked, and handed Bilbo a letter.

.

. The writing on it ...

. The gold wax seal ...

. Unmistakable.

.

His hand shook as he reached to take it.

Eyes thanking Gandalf, even as his voice refused to cooperate. He was too stunned. Too incredulous. Too hopeful to guess what it contained.

His fingers pressed at the smooth wax of the seal. Feeling the indentations made by Thorin's signet. A ring he envisioned on the hand of the now and future king ... Seated on his throne ... Happy in his kingdom. His people returning by the day, joining him. Surrounding him with laughter and cheer ...

And wondered?

.

He looked up again at Gandalf.

Suddenly, afraid this was a polite: 'thank you for your service, Mr. Baggins' and 'if you need anything call' sort of farewell?

The kind you send to a friend of a friend, who may not have returned home safely after you turned them from your door?

.

Gandalf seemed to read this in his bearing, and shook his head. Pressing it close to Bilbo's chest. "Read it, dear boy!" He said with a twinkle in his eye. Then turned to leave.

"But ... Gandalf ... ?" Bilbo asked, hesitating ...

. The wizard turned his head only.

"I will be back by morning for your reply," he re-assured. Then disappeared, and Bilbo tore at the letter. Devouring the words like a fire in his belly:

.

. My dear Bilbo,

. I do hope that the Shire has been everything and more you had dreamed of coming home to? Forgive me for writing. The days have been long, and lonesome since your departure.

Filli and Killi were honored with statues in the great hall that would have made you laugh! I would dearly wish to see your smile.

Do not feel compelled to write - if just to appease this old fool. You have your comforts. Your people. Your homeland. And I respect that desire. It is what brought me to the lonely mountain. Years of effort and hope, and dreaming ...

Made possible by you.

How apt then ... ? That the lonely mountain, truly does feel lonely, here without you in it?

I could not bear it if you had parted without knowing my goodwill and best wishes for your future health and happiness. May you live a long and fulfilling life, Bilbo Baggins. To rest with the souls of your forefathers someday. As my kin do now, thanks to your bravery.

I am King now. Uncle, Cousin, Nephew, and Godfather to many .. But the highest title I carry with me ... is that of a Friend: to the kindest and best, and wisest of all men I have ever had the privilege of knowing.

. Think of me at sunset.

. I will be having tea, raising a glass to you.

. As I do nightly, now.

.

. Yours faithfully,

.

Thorin Oakenshield

Bilbo smiled. He had a sudden need to see the mountains ...

. To be home once more.

.....................................................................

For @flashfictionfridayofficial took me a while to cut it down below 1000 words! Finally managed :) dedicated to @angrybagginshieldbakery @vtforpedro and @starorbs

[katblu42]

The Letter

Been a while, but here's a thing for @flashfictionfridayofficial

Thunderbirds fandom. Approx 920 words.

Warnings for grief/mourning and mention of death. I may have cried while writing this.

“Scott?” Virgil approached his big brother quietly, cautiously.  “Are you okay?”

The piece of paper he held was shaking slightly, and when Scott looked up at Virgil his sapphire blues were glistening with unshed tears.

“I . . .” he swallowed hard and held the fragile piece of slightly yellowed paper out for Virgil to see.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Virgil’s eyes widened as he scanned the handwritten words on the page and recognised the content.

“Where did you find this?”  Scott seemed unable to respond for a moment, but Virgil’s eyes were glued to the page.  Some of the ink was smudged with some kind of water damage – two distinct round spots near the bottom of the page – but the paper was dry, the damage old.  “I mean, I remember writing it but I don’t remember keeping it, or giving it to anyone.”

Scott pointed to the pieces of a picture frame on the desk.  The frame that usually held one of the last photographs of all five boys with both parents.  Along side the photo and the broken frame were a few other small pieces of paper, some with their mother’s handwriting on them, a pressed flower that Virgil recognised as one of Mom’s favourites and a scrap of embroidered fabric.

“Dad must have kept these things hidden in the back of the frame.  Reminders of her, I guess.  But the letter . . .”

Dear Mom,

I don’t really know why I’m writing this letter.  I just miss you so much and I didn’t know what else to do.

I wanted to talk to Scott because we always tell each other everything, but I don’t think he really wants to talk about this right now.  I know he’s hurting just like we all are but he seems to be coping by keeping everything as normal as possible for everyone else.  Especially Alan.

Scott is the one making sure all the chores get done and everyone gets to where they need to be on time and does their homework and stuff.  He’s taken charge, which is good because Dad’s not really doing that right now, but it’s bad because I think Scott’s not letting himself be sad that you’re gone.  He’s trying not to give himself time to think about it.

I can’t talk to Dad.  No one can.  Except maybe Grandma sometimes.  He went back to work so quick after the funeral and he stays there late a lot.  When he is home it’s like he hides in his office.  I’m not sure, but I think being in the house with all of us but not you hurts him too much.  Sometimes it even feels like he can’t look at us without seeing that you’re missing.

Gordon and Alan are too little.  I mean Alan still asks when you’ll be coming home.  He doesn’t understand what never means and Scott and John and I don’t really know how to explain it, so we just don’t and hug him tight instead. 

Gordon is old enough to understand death means we never get to have you here with us anymore but he wants to know why Heaven can’t have visitors.  He has so many things he wants to show you and ask you about.  I hope it’s okay I told him he could always talk to you because you can still listen even if you can’t answer.

Sometimes I worry a bit about John.  I can’t talk to him about this stuff either because I know he’s struggling with it too.  He’s gone quiet.  Even more quiet than normal.  He still helps with Alan and Gordon and does all his chores but I don’t think I’ve seen him smile or heard him laugh since you died.  Not even when Allie and Gordon get up to their mischief.  Plus he hasn’t gone up to the roof to look at the stars at all in ages.  Not even when I offered to go up with him.  I know you two used to stargaze together.  I wish you could let him know it’s okay for him to do that without you.

Mom, it’s so hard without you.  Sometimes I don’t know what to do and I know that if you were here you would have the answers and I feel so lost because I don’t know who else to turn to.  I miss you so much and I wish more than anything that I could have you back just for a day.

Love you always, Virgil.

“Why would he keep this?” Virgil’s fingers traced the creases where the paper had been repeatedly folded.  “How did he even get hold of it in the first place?”

“Why did you write it?”

Virgil finally tore his eyes away from the letter and looked back at Scott.  He couldn’t form the words to explain, but some of the emotional turmoil he felt was mirrored in his brother’s face and he realised he didn’t have to.  And suddenly his big brother was wrapping him in a welcome embrace.

“You were grieving and felt like you had no one you could confide in,” Scott said softly.  “I think when Dad found it he realised he needed to be there for us more and kept it to remind him of that.  We should have been there for you, Virge.  I’m sorry.”

“You were,” Virgil whispered back, returning the hug.  “In the end even Dad was better at it – all of us being there for each other, no matter what.”

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

Heeding Wise Words

A/N: a story of a free lance private detective working on a case, only to find something else instead.^^

Word Count: 559

TW: None

***

On a dim room, a door creaked upon swinging back and forth from air caused by a ceiling fan. It spun in a moderate momentum, dashing across any available surfaces.

A detective opened a drawer, searching for clues. She shut it close upon finding no evidence in it. She shook her head, pressing a palm over her forehead.

She had accepted a case from someone, who had been frantic for their friend's absence. They seemed to disappear from their premises because there had been no signs of electricity as she had arrived. She had to manually switch it on and check most rooms.

Even most cabinets and closets were empty as if they brought their belongings with them. Except for an envelope on a desk. She picked it up and opened it's seal.

So, the detective slipped a letter from an envelope. She took a deep breath, resting her eyes across words written on it.

Dear me.

Hey, I know things suck now, however, I'm telling you it might get better. Not soon, maybe later. Just telling you it's what you gotta hang onto. These people don't understand you and it's so exhausting. You tell them about the person you are, and they refuse to accept it. Refuse to accept you've got your own decisions to make.

They tell you to be responsible and get upset when you do. It's difficult that they don't acknowledge it. They're angry when you tell them of what you want to do. It feels as if they don't even trust you to decide for yourself. They don't acknowledge maybe it's not up to them. That it's not anyone's life except yours.

So, even when things get tough, I hope you do remember what's easy. What brings joy. What reminds you of the good.

Love, me.

Blinking, she kept the letter back into it's envelope.

Well, she would be stunned.

This was a bit far too intrusive than she preferred. This must have been a letter that a person wrote for their previous self. Intending to read it on a day, where they might be too fraught with anger. Or sadness.

However, she wouldn't lie: it resonated with a part of her. She had been considered to be useful if she complied to orders. Did what anyone told her might be for her own good. She had to fight her way to leave those toxic people. It took courage to go on her own terms.

Maybe she wasn't a good person for not having any guilt for what she did. However, she found it difficult to care about people, who cared more about a version they wanted. They didn't care to support her goals. They kept on demanding and she couldn't take it, anymore. So, she had to go before it could be worse.

If only they could see how she was doing well without them. She didn't need them to disapprove of what she wished to do. She didn't need their help to pursue what she was interested in. And, it was fine.

Okay. The detective needed to focus on her case, not think of her previous situation. Still, the letter did brought up things that she often wished for. Maybe someday, she could find people, who accepted her as herself.

For now, she would get back to what she had to do.

***

[nyamadermont]

An Unexpected Letter

#FFF162 The Letter

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Avatar: The Legend of Korra

616 words

CW: Implied drug use

[Image ID: White text reading ‘FFF The Letter’ on a background of mixed red and black coloring]

Lin opened the door to the room Kya had been letting her share. The shutters were open, and the breeze was light and fresh.

Kya leaned over the rail, not even pretending to hide the joint burning lazily in her hand. 

“You know that I have to remind myself every single time that we aren’t subject to the Republic Civil Code out here, right?”

Kya inhaled, lowered the joint, and blew a tiny stream of smoke from her lips. 

“If you keep talking like a cop, you won’t get any.” She twisted her hand to offer the joint to Lin, who stepped forward to grasp it carefully. 

Lin took a quiet sniff of the smoke before taking a full drag. She felt a wave of relaxation wash down her body. Her scalp tingled. 

She just opened her mouth to release the air from her lungs. Together, they watched the tendrils whirl and dissipate. 

“When you’re happy, I have something for you.”

Lin tilted her head at Kya. “What is it?”

Kya took a drag, held for only a heartbeat. “Nope. This thing is gone before I give it to you. I don’t know what’s inside, and I want you relaxed before you look.”

Lin raised an eyebrow, but took the joint back for a slow drag. “Sounds like Pema. She’s been acting strangely for two days. I guess it must be funny for her when she doesn’t know every single air bender on an intimate level.”

Kya lashed out with a smack to her shoulder. “Don’t make me think about that. And don’t make me make you smoke another one of these.”

Lin let out a harsh laugh. “So it is her. Give it.” She flipped her hand out. 

Kya sighed and pulled the item from a pocket. “Do you want me to stay here or leave you alone?”

Lin shrugged. “It’s your space. Would you prefer I leave?”

“No. I’m dying to know.”

Lin looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Kya handed her a small yellow envelope. Lin dropped her eyes to the letter and knotted her brows in confusion. “I’m right here. Why would she write instead of speaking to me?”

Kya shrugged. “She didn’t tell me. Maybe she’s afraid you’ll try to arrest her again.”

Lin scoffed. “I’m not a cop anymore. Never was one here.”

Kya snorted. She gazed out over the valley below, letting the joint smolder, nearly forgotten. She dangled her fingers in the fountain, pulling up a small ball of water. She bent it with her fingers, using the focus to keep her from pestering Lin.

Her concentration shattered when Lin stumbled against the fountain and slid to the floor. The water collapsed, startling them both. Kya whirled her hand and deposited the water back into the fountain as she knelt beside Lin. 

“Are you ok?”

Lin looked up, blank with shock.

“She apologized. And thanked me. And said I have a place on the Island.”

Kya tilted her head with a shallow smile. “Your move, Beifong.”

Lin sat with her hands draped over her bent knees, the letter dangling from her fingers. “I never imagined Pema saying anything like this.”

Kya scoffed. “You’ve barely spoken to her in twenty years. You don’t know her very well.”

Lin stared at Kya. “I guess not.”

She turned her face toward the railing, oblivious to how little she could actually see. 

“What do I do now? Make friends with her?”

Kya shrugged. “Would it hurt?”

Lin snorted. “Probably.”

Kya banged her shoulder against Lin’s. “You work it out. I’m going back to bed.”

The next morning, Kya spotted something on her writing table. 

“Dear Pema, thank you for your letter…”

[renee-writer]

For @flashfictionfridayofficial 162 prompt.

Dear Holli

My darling Holli,

I can’t hardly believe you’re seven! You were just Violet ‘s age a few heartbeats ago. Now you are quickly approaching middle childhood.

My darling, I know the world pushes you to grow up fast. Don’t! This time as a child is precious and you can never get it back. So, use your imagination before reality takes it away. Let your Barbies fly, draw in the dirt, dream of the impossible. For right now, in your imagination, it is possible.

Be kind, always. Smile at the kid sitting alone then join them. Be polite and respectful to your teachers. Be courageous as you answer them. Don’t hesitate to give the wrong answer. It is how you learn.

You’re a big sister. Gemma and Violet will be looking up to you. Give them a good example. Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want them to do. They will get on your nerves. Try to be patient with them. Give more hugs then eye rolls.

Above all, seek God. Say your prayers. Go to church whenever you can. Say or think, ' Help me Jesus ' when you don’t know what to do. He is there, just waiting on you to reach out to Him.

He loves you. I love you. Your parents and sisters love you. I am so proud of the person you are and look forward to who you will be.

Happy birthday Holli.

Love

Grandma

[on-noon]

I sit down with a stack of paper, pens, and a guide. I have the letter written out in my head. 

“Dear Sokast,

You may have already heard the news, and I don’t know how fast this letter will reach you. 

Your father, Larath, has died. There are some secrets being kept that I want to tell you, but this letter will probably be read by a diplomat. Larath’s other children have disappeared, probably gone into hiding.

I am now the Queen Consort, which unfortunately brings the chance of me ever visiting Cantisle down even from where it was. 

Sorry for this letter full of bad news. I love you. 

Kaztra”

I put the guide over a piece of paper, and write, the wires keeping my letters in line. I hope the letter is legible, I haven’t written in so long, it’s hard when you can’t see. But this letter I need to write. I can’t have some random staff members write it, that’s too impersonal. Rakad would usually transcribe whatever is more personal, but he’s dealing with enough from Larath’s death. Besides this letter should be in Cantislian. I finish the letter, and put it in an envelope. Tomorrow is a trading day for Cantisle, so I’ll go to the trading island and find someone who can deliver the letter. 

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[defendersalliance]

Letter from a Villain

for @flashfictionfridayofficial 's prompt #FFF162: The Letter. ~700 words.

I wrote this so it could be read alone, but it’s basically a follow up to this snippet which gives more context on Valentine’s job tracking down the villain

~

The villain’s letter landed on Valentine’s desk three days after he’d escaped custody.

“I’ve heard he can be…more annoying in writing,” Brontide warned. Valentine’s hero co-worker gave the envelope one last glance before returning to his desk.

Valentine sighed and grabbed the envelope. “Has this been checked for poison?” he called. Sure, their branch of the Defenders Alliance was lacking in funding, but that didn’t mean they had to throw caution to the wind.

“You’re the ex-assassin!” Brontide replied. He glanced back and flashed Valentine a grin. “Poisons should be your specialty.”

He did know a thing or two about poison. Probably the reason they’d assigned him Sundew. Unfortunately, carnivorous plants were less up Valentine’s alley, and the villain’s new acid trick had made escape easy when he’d finally been captured after a month’s pursuit.

Valentine gave the envelope a closer look. Its pale green color was unusual, but he couldn’t find any discoloration or warping to suggest the paper was carrying extra ingredients. Still, he slid on his gloves before drawing a letter opener from his desk and tearing in. A pale piece of paper came out with letters typed in dark green ink. 

My dear Valentine, Sundew had written.

Great start. Valentine wondered if it was too late to pick a new hero name. Sticking with the fake last name he’d used as an assassin was…not his first choice. But no one asked him what he wanted when he’d agreed to join the Defenders.

With a heavy sigh, he continued reading.

It was lovely finally seeing your place after so many failed attempts to catch me. But let’s arrange the next date somewhere that isn’t falling apart.

The jab at the West branch made Valentine roll his eyes. Flickering lights and strange puddles, sure. But ‘falling apart’ was a stretch.

An art museum could be fun. I think we have different ideas about what “enjoying a museum” entails, though. I am looking forward to adding to my collection this weekend. And now that I’ve said that, I’m looking forward to imagining you on the streets all night in hopes of running into me. Weather says it’s supposed to rain, and I for one would love to see you drenched and miserable.

With Valentine’s luck, that was exactly how he’d be spending his weekend.

Since I’ll be giving myself the gift of stolen art, I thought I’d give you a gift as well. These seeds are so easy to grow that an amateur like yourself should be able to manage. And before long, you’ll have tomatoes! Or pumpkins. I forgot what I put in the envelope.

Valentine, with the utmost caution, tipped the envelope over his desk. A few small seeds rained onto his paperwork stack. Unlike last time, they didn’t explode into vines or venus flytraps.

Sundew, apparently, anticipated his concerns. And relax. They are ordinary seeds. Not my creations. I grow normal plants, too, in my garden. And I make a pretty good grape wine I’d be happy to share sometime.

Despite the promise that the grapes were grown from the ground, Valentine figured he’d have to pass, given the risk. Sundew’s powers also let him generate plants laced with deadly poison. Or, worse, put people in a hypnotic trance.

Though, Valentine suspected he had a different idea of ‘worse’ than most people.

I’m sure you’ve got work to get back to. I do too. I haven’t forgotten my promise that I’d find your real name, Val. 

Catch me again, and I might grant you the privilege of calling me your rival.

Valentine tossed the letter back on the desk with a huff of annoyance. Why couldn’t his first job as a hero have been a villain with a little less…personality?

He eyed the seeds. They hadn’t been the only thing to fall from the envelope. A fine layer of dirt had scattered on his papers as well. And he’d had enough brushes with forensics to know the value of dirt. Intentionally or not, Sundew had just given Valentine a clue to the location of whatever mountain cottage he was shacking up in.

The question was whether it was an accident, or a trap.

[polizwrites]

A Letter to Morgan

This is a drabble fill for today's @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt [#FFF162 The Letter].

Fandom: MCU/Marvel -- Relationship [none] -- Rating: General -- Word Count: 100

Your father was a remarkable individual. Steve stared at the sentence and scratched it out. How could he possibly put down in words what kind of man Tony Stark really was?

Tony was a meteor, a shooting star streaking across the sky. A lion, protecting those he loved with everything he had. His heart and mind were larger than life and he challenged everyone to be more than who they were.

Your father was a hero, and I was proud to fight by his side. A simple sketch of the arc reactor took shape under Steve’s pen. I’ll miss him.

[turntechgooglyeyes]

June Egbert made with my J inspired pallet. (Feel free to use the pallet)

The colors are:

#d5edfe #84caff #5ca4d9 #5692bf #fff162 #fff8af

(Sorry if some of the ids are off, should come up with the same color tho)

(Pallet and art made by me)