#drabble: a letter written during a war; never sent

[yukyunotabibito]

Gareth,

I wish I could write with better news, my friend, but I fear that things have worsened in Fodlan. They will most certainly get worse long before they get better.

Idiots. The whole continent. When I came here to watch over Kurthnaga, the last thing I ever expected was for him to get himself involved in another war. I should have dragged him right back to Goldoa as soon as I laid eyes on his face. To say I find the people of Fodlan to currently be quite the disappointment would be the understatement of the century. I cannot bear having to even think about looking any of these wayward citizens in the eye at the moment.

Would you consider me a coward if I were to say I was considering never going back? Not even for Ena. She would be able to take care of herself, and young Kurthnaga at that. Or perhaps I am just running away from it all like I always do.

That does sound more like me; doesn't it, dear Gareth? If that makes me a coward, so be it. But I will not allow myself to sacrifice the few things I believe in within this world for the sake of a bunch of beorcs thousands of knots from home. You know me, that is not something I would do even for our king.

It is as every time I think we may be making progress, these fools take ten steps right backwards. Must it always be like this? If there is one thing I can agree on with Dheginsea's policies, it is that there is no point in this meaningless war. When I think of it that way... perhaps he was not as all wrong as I once thought. Not to say that he was right either. You of all people should be all too aware of what I think of our foolish liege's way of ruling Goldoa.

There is only so much I am able to bear. And this has already gone too far for me. I shall give it till the end of the moon, and if things have not improved by then, expect my swift return to Goldoa.

Yours,

Nasir

Dearest Gareth,

Against my better judgement, I have returned to Garreg Mach. I suppose as long as both Ena and Kurthnaga remain in this land, I will not be able to help myself from keeping watch over the two of them. But I cannot bring myself to look the natives of Fodlan in the eye, knowing that they have gotten Goldoa's dear children involved within their conflict.

But I gave them their time, and to their credit, they were able to bring an end to the fighting rather quickly. One must give them accolades where they are due.

Still, my dear Ena... the light that she had just managed to recover has left her eyes. And as for our ward, I cannot say what has happened to him. He is unusually quiet though, for a boy who normally has so much to say. He has likely seen something terrible, but I could not begin to tell you what that was. He does not seem to want to talk about it, and I do not care to ask it of him. If he wishes, he shall tell in due time.

It is not as if I have ever been the one to talk about feelings with him anyway. All of us know that is better left to someone else.

For now, I shall remain. But should the worse come to happen again, I do not see myself showing my face here afterwards once more.

I do find myself longing for the more quiet days we all used to spend in Goldoa, the three of us long ago, when we were all younger men. The time that we will never get back; and then chances that we never took back then, chances it is far too late for now.

Funny how things go; isn't it? Let us hope that they all go well for the future then, for it seems that now that is all we can do.

Yours, with love,

Nasir

[stargazing-enby]

A Lifetime of Memories

Written for the December Drarry Discord Drabble Challenge! The prompt was “tradition” and the word count 364 words. Thank you to @teawithpotter​ for the amazing beta work! 

Drarry | 364 words | Teen and Up | Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Grief, Angst with a Hopeful Ending | Read on AO3

Two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry found a box in the cellar of Grimmauld place filled with letters from his parents. 

He hadn’t cried during those two weeks. Not once. He’d yelled, he’d gone quiet—he’d decided he needed to be alone because he didn’t know what to do with his grief over Fred, much less with everyone else’s. He had stared at the sun, which continued to rise outside his window every morning, indifferent to Harry being both a saviour and a killer—to Harry being scared, tired, and incredibly, indescribably numb.

But when he read that first letter Harry found his hands shaking, his breath hitching as tears of grief and sorrow and anger blurred his vision.

His father talked about his Christmas presents. He talked about how he wished Sirius could’ve spent the holidays at his house, and how excited he was to show everyone his new broom as soon as he was back in school. The letter was signed on December 25th, 1975. 

Harry cried into his knees at the thought of his dad, careless and happy and young, surrounded by a warm, loving family. He read the next one—a postcard his mum and dad had sent Sirius from France some weeks after they graduated Hogwarts—and sobbed at the thought of everything and everyone the war had taken away from him. He felt miserable. Wronged.

He read every single letter in the box, and by the time he was done and had exhausted his tears, hurt, and anger, Harry made a decision. He could never have a lifetime of memories with his parents, but he’d be damned if he didn’t keep at least one of their family traditions alive.

He raced to the kitchen, pulled parchment and a quill from a drawer. He sat on the dining table, dipped the quill in the ink, and paused. 

Who was he writing to?

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Who did he have something to say to? Who did he want to have memories with that he could look back on in years, decades from now?

Harry looked back down at the parchment and pressed the quill down. 

Hello, Draco.

[vpba]

Beloved orphan

Short 700 words story NED x CATELYN: 

Summary: Canon divergent, but Westeros is what it is, so the kingdoms are at war. This will help you understand:

I read Michel Manouchian’s letter, written on february 21st 1944 and it inspired me. Manouchian was a solider who wrote a letter before dying, fighting for France’s freedom during World War II. The letter is therefore mostly plagarized from this brave man. 

Beloved orphan

.

.

To read the handwriting on the letter was useless, she had known who it was from before reading the name, before the rider crossed Winterfell’s gates, before they blew the horn. In fact, she had known for days she would receive this letter, from this person precisely.

Umber had sent a letter from Duskendale; they were near Victory. The North would win if they hadn’t already. But he had been too close to the enemy lines and got captured. Ned had been captured with other soldiers, it had been enough for her to stop thinking coherently. The children were silent, Winterfell was silent. All waited for what she already knew. Something had broken inside her some days ago. And the letter Luwin was handing her now only legitimated the pounding of her heart. She broke the seal.

My Dear Catelyn, my beloved little orphan,

In a few hours, I won’t be here anymore. We are going to be beheaded this afternoon, February 21st, at 3:000. This is happening to me as an accident in my life, I don’t believe it but yet I know that I will never see you again.

What can I write to you? Everything is confused in me and clear at the same time. I joined the Northern War as a volunteer, as the warden of the North and I am dying on the brink of Victory, of the goal. Happiness to those who will outlive us and taste the sweetness of Freedom and Peace of tomorrow. I am certain that northerners and all Freedom fighters will be able to honor our memory with dignity. At the moment of my death, I’m proclaiming that I have no hatred against the Lannisters or against anyone, everyone will get what they deserve as punishment and reward.

The Lannisters and all other people will live in peace and brotherhood after the war, which will not last much longer. Happiness to all… I bitterly regret leaving Winterfell, I would have liked to see our children grow there, together, as you always wanted. So I beg of you to marry after the war, without fail and to have someone to care for our children. Cherish no sentimental nonsense about remarriage. When the right man comes to help you in life, you ought to be your happy self again. And I wish for you to be happy. Winterfell is passing to Robb, and my belongings I bequeath to you. After the war, you will be able to get your claim on Riverrun, as its only heir. I die a regular soldier in the Northern army here, no title, just a man.

With the help of allies who will honor me, you will share those writings that I find worth reading, for all the lords of Westeros, they should know what I esteemed of this polity. You will care for Winterfell. You will soothe our children’s grief. I will die with 23 northerners later with the courage and serenity of a man with a clear conscience because personally, I did not betray anyone, and if I did, I did it without hatred, but for honor. Today there is sunshine. Looking at the sun and the beautiful nature that I have loved so much, I will bid farewell to life and to all of you, my dear wife, my dear friends. I forgive all those who hurt me or wanted to hurt me. The leagues do not stop me from embracing you and feeling one last time the softness of your skin, the red of your hair, the blue of your eyes. You have shown me love, and so much more, you have shown me how to live, how to be happy. I hold you, all, tight in my heart, forever.

Goodbye, your friend, your companion, your husband. Eddard Stark

A choking sensation grasped her throat and she found herself unable to move or say something. Comprehension crawled up inside her, it felt like she would vomit. This unbearable sensation of ache and grief and anger got her to sink to her knees, clutching the cruel letter against her chest as if it could ever bring back the comforting warmth her husband had once provided her. Before reading the letter she had been certain she would cry, but there was no dampness, no tears as if her emotions had inevitably died with him. Her tears were freezing inside her before even coming out. Winter came for Catelyn.

.

.

.

I hope you appreciated this drabble.  Do share if you liked! I love to spread Nedlyn vibes accross tumblr ♥️ ♥️ 

[the-girl-without-a-face]

Letters

BUCKY BARNES X READER

Summary: Bucky Barnes X Reader's story. It's a little different than the ones previous written for this drabble series, but hopefully you'll like it :3. Pre-War! Bucky Barnes

Warnings: angst (there’s a happy ending, sort of? It’s definetely good looking)

MASTERLIST

The mail was the most used way of communication in times of war.

Hell, it was the only way of communications between military and the civilians, the ones that protected and the ones protected.

Soldiers would very often write to their families and friends, their families would most certainly write them back.

New York City had various mailmen back in the 40s. Each of them had a designed number of letters to deliver in a certain perimeter.

The man who delivered the letters to half of Brooklyn was an old, very pleasant one. He was always in a mood for a talk, despite his tiring job. He did it whether the sun was melting streets or snow was all the way to the knees.

Delivering the letters was his job and he’d get it done, no matter what.

He was designed to that specific area due to his own residence. He himself had lived in Brooklyn all of his life, born and raised. He had a passion for the place, a feeling he adored whenever he looked to the streets, the buildings, the people, and even the sky.

Not long after the United States joined World War II, a boy he had known for quite some years joined the Army. Said man was several years younger than him, in fact, had just left boyhood, and was also born and raised in Brooklyn.

The man was James Buchanan Barnes.

He had known the Barnes since Mr. and Mrs. Barnes got married and moved to Brooklyn. Soon he met their first born, James. His sister came a few years later.

He had watched the young boy play with several other children from the neighborhood, until he met another boy.

A scrawny, blonde boy also born in Brooklyn, whose parents the man had also met after their marriage.

Steven Grant Rogers.

The man watched in delight as the two boys met and quickly became friends, inseparable, always had each other’s back. They reminded him of himself and his best-friend, a man he had lost during the first Great War, along with Steve’s father.

Nevertheless, years went by and Bucky and Steve got older. They never distanced and stayed like that even on dates.

Until of course, Bucky found himself in love. Steve laughed the first time he pointed that out, claiming he never thought it would happen.

She had a great personality, sharp answers and knew how to handle herself in a difficult world.

Her name was [Y/F/n].

Her grandfather was man’s gone friend, God rest his soul.

He watched as the two boys talked about pretty girls, how the older they got, more Bucky seemed to talk about [Y/n]. He would always smile at the innocence of young love.

He was sitting in a chair in his house’s porch when he heard Bucky complimenting her, smiling a bit wider than he did with other girls. She arched an eyebrow at him, turned and walked away. Bucky’s mouth hung open for a good minute before he realized he was in public.

Then he processed what happened, frowned, buried his hands on his pockets and kicked a rock.

She knew he was a ladiesman, that he always had a new date. The man knew it too. So he gestured to Bucky before the boy walked away.

He asked the boy about what had happened, which earned him an explanation about how he said some nice words before asking her out. Again. Differently from the last time, she didn’t knocked the door on his nose.

The man asked if he meant said words. The boy never hesitated before nodding and saying he meant every letter. So the man decided to help. He asked what the girl’s favorite flower was. Bucky didn’t know the answer. The man told Bucky to leave a flower by your window every day, each day a different kind. Bucky thanked the man before running to buy the first of many flowers.

He did for eleven days, each one of them made the girl pick up the flower, look around her house for any visible admirer and go back home. On the twelfth day, a smile stretched over the girl’s cheeks as she saw her favorite flower. She didn’t try to hide how happy she was with her admirer’s persistence.

She wasn’t surprise when Bucky knocked on her door that afternoon asking her out on a date. Differently from the last time, she didn’t walk away. She said yes.

The boy went straight to the man’s house wearing a wide smile on his face. He excitedly explained the situation and thanked the man profusely. The man only laughed and wished him good luck for his date.

On Friday night, the man observed as Bucky walked up the footsteps of her house, checked his suit one last time and knocked, right on time. The girl was the most beautiful one Bucky had ever laid his eyes on. He offered her a bucket of her favorite flowers, which she thanked him for it before placing them on a vase with the other one.  He offered her his hand and brought her knuckles to his lips while bowing slightly once she covered his hand with hers. The man nodded in approval.

They came back ten minutes before her curfew, the happiness of her father. Bucky asked her father’s permission to take her on a second date.

Which happened the next Friday, which added more flowers to the vase.

On their fourth date, the man could tell Bucky was nervous. And with reason, after all, he was about to kiss the girl right on her front porch.

Her father knew what was happening and decided to step away from the window in order to give them some privacy. He liked Bucky enough.

The man watched as their relationship developed. She knew Steve, they had some classes together, and soon the three of them were inseparable.

The proposal came a couple of years after high school graduation. And after Bucky asked Mr. [Y/L/n] for her hand, of course.

A letter was personally delivered by the couple, an invitation for the wedding. The girl thanked the man for knocking some sense in Bucky’s mind years before, after he told her who the idea of the flowers had come from.

In their grand day, she wore a beautiful white dress and a bouquet very similar to the one Bucky gave her on their first date. The boy almost shed some tears when his eyes laid upon her angelical figure. Steve, who stood beside the groom as a best man, had to bury his elbow on Bucky’s ribcage to bring him back to reality.

When the bells announced the end of the ceremony, the couple had the most brilliant and widest smile plastered on their faces. They got a house right across the man.

Not long after such happy moments, the World War II took place. And soon the United States joined. They asked for everyone’s help, in every possible way. From children to collect scrap metal, to deliver news to and from the front and fight.

In 1943, James Buchanan Barnes got his orders. He had completed military training and had the official patent of Sergeant James B. Barnes.

After he got his uniform and saved Steve from a fight, he made his way home to pick up his wife. The woman looked more beautiful every time she came into Bucky’s view. She wore Bucky’s favorite dress, he one he bought her on their first and only anniversary. Her hair was in loose curls, her eyes sharpened by little dark make up and her lips claimed to be kissed in the crimson tone they were painted.

Her eyes were slightly red. She tried to hide it, she knew how hard the situation already was for her husband. But then she saw him a Sergeant’s uniform and a sob escaped her mouth.

Bucky pulled her to his chest, kissing her forehead and holding her tightly in his arms. She clanged to him as if her life depended on it. And it did. As much as his depended on hers.

Which was the main reason he enlisted. He wanted to do his part in protecting the ones he loved, especially his wife. There were men laying down their lifes out there, if he wasn’t brave enough to do the same, he didn’t deserve her.

So they went to the Stark Exposition: The World of Tomorrow. Steve was accepted in the Army, Bucky and [Y/n] went dancing and came back to share their last night together for what could be a long time.

The next day, after Bucky shipped out for England early in the morning, Steve came home to keep [Y/n] company.  That day she knew something was up with Steve and bugged him to tell her whatever it was. That day, she discovered not only her husband would be in the war, but her best friend too.

A week later, the man went by the Barnes’ residence to deliver a letter. He smiled as he noticed where it was from. Apparently, Bucky had settled in camp.

[Y/n] didn’t wait to get back home to rip it open and sob as she read the letter, happiness that she had heard from her husband for the first time in what seemed an eternity.

A letter from him came every day, the same rate as a letter from her was sent. They kept the rhythm for weeks, him telling her about his friends and training and her telling him about home.

Letters would come and go, until one day a letter didn’t arrive.

The man was worried and walked slowly in front of the house, never stopping to give Mrs. Barnes a much awaited letter. She stood by the window, waiting, as she did day after day. He looked at her form the street and shook his head, saying there were no letters for her. Her heart skipped a beat before she felt her stomach dropping to her feet. Her breathing became loud and hollow. She slept crying that night.

The next day, two letters came. Two from Sergeant James Barnes.  [Y/n] read the letters from Bucky first, one was dirty with smoke and slightly burned at the edges, which sent her heart in a race. The second explained that the man responsible for gathering the letters and delivering them was new. Therefore, he lost the bag of letters and himself in the not-so-large area of the camp. Her laugh was loud once she read Bucky reassure her he was fine. He told her how much he loved her and how he missed her by his side, but that he was happy that she was safe back at home. She then put her hands in action and wrote him how she missed her at home, how she wanted him to hold her and tell her everything would be okay.

She never once mentioned Steve, as the young blonde man asked her to. She had indeed heard of his unusual ‘training’, experiment and was shocked to see a photo of him in the newspaper. She kept securely in a memory box she shared with her husband.

A month later, the man delivered her a letter from the Army instead of from Bucky. He squeezed her shoulder gently before turning and leaving. With trembling hands and unsteady feet, her heart hammering her ribcage, her breathing unabling her from hearing anything else, she sat down in a chair.

The letter told her the news: Bucky’s squadron had been captured and presumed dead behind enemy lines.

The man came by her house that night, offering a hot cup of tea upon seeing her puffy red eyes. They sat in silence at the kitchen table. He bid her goodbye and made his way home, sad that the young couple’s story had ended so yearly. She went to bed and spent hours gripping Bucky’s clothes, trying to fill the hole his death brought to her chest. Her tears never stopped falling, not even after she slept.

She wondered if he had been in pain, if it had been quick, if he was afraid, if he thought of her, but of one thing she was certain: Bucky Barnes died bravely.

It was all she could believe, because not even her country knew what had happened to him.

By the end of the week, she received another two letters. One from the Army and one from Steve. She found it odd that Steve had sent her a letter. They had exchanged letters before, she shouldn’t be surprised really. She read the one from the Army first.

She had to do it a couple more times before she finally made sense out of the words. Captain America, aka Steve, rescued the whole 107th.

Steve rescued Bucky from behind the enemy lines.

Bucky was alive.

She quickly ripped the second letter open and her smile almost ripped her face when she read the first words. They were Bucky’s usual greeting toward her. ‘Doll’, it said, ‘I’m sorry.’ He apologized for worrying her, for making her think he was dead. He guaranteed that he had no major injuries and that he missed her.

The rhythm of letter came back.

The man happily delivered letters to the Barnes residence daily, always smiling to see the young lady smiling wildly as she read the words her beloved husband wrote.

A month later, there was no letter for the young wife. Instead, footprints were left on the soft snow and footsteps were heard on the front porch twenty minutes before the man usually came. A hand drummed the front door.

She gasped when she opened the door. Her hand went to her mouth as her eyes widened. She screamed his name as she threw herself in his arms. His strong limbs embraced her strongly, careful still not to hurt her. She had her arms in a lock-death around his neck. Raising her from the ground, he walked into the house. Tears prickled his eyes as he took in the scents that surrounded him and the warmth that eradiated from her. He pulled her away just so he could see her eyes and then kiss her as he had wanted to do since the moment he left. Steve got there a few hours later and joined them for diner. [Y/n] thanked him for saving Bucky’s life.

They were supposed to leave in two days. A couple of days that went by so fast.

During one afternoon, while Bucky and Steve were taking a nap, she sneaked out. She had something to do and she couldn’t miss it.

The day the soldiers were packing, so was she. Bucky and Steve exchanged confused looks before Bucky asked what she was doing. Her answer was simple: she refused to let them leave without her. Bucky shook his head, fear very clear in his eyes. He said she couldn’t, that she had to stay home, stay safe, so he could come back to her. She then explained that she didn’t have a choice.

She couldn’t live without knowing if they were coming back, if they were okay, if they needed help. And that now was too late, since she had already talked to an important woman who was very eager to help her. Peggy Carter. The men gaped at the name. Bucky wanted her to stay more than anything, but there was nothing he could do to make her stay.

When she wanted something, she wouldn’t rest until she got it. It was one Bucky’s favorites characteristics in her, but God was he pissed at it now.

He waved from his front porch the day three figures left the house. The now grown children smiled and waved back. The man watched from his window as James Buchanan Barnes, [Y/n] Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers walked down the streets of Brooklyn one last time, ready to protect their country

He accompanied whatever news from the trio he could get his hands on. He was impressed to see the little girl took an important part in Intelligence, close to Agent Carter.

The man read in the newspaper when James Buchanan Barnes was confirmed dead in action. He could only imagine what [Y/n] was feeling, to lose her husband a second time. He had promised Bucky during their time in the war that if anything happened to Sergeant, Steve would take care of [Y/n]. After Bucky’s death, he swore to that until his last breath. So he took her on missions. She was trained, highly trained. Smart too. And motivated. Characteristics he could use in his missions.

Not much time went by before he read the news of Captain America’s death.

A woman came to visit the man one day. Although beautiful, her eyes were filled with sadness. Her name was Peggy Carter. She told the man the girl was with Steve in the plane that disappeared in the ice.

In that moment, the man understood why he never saw the girl again.

Seventy years went by.

After being defrosted, Steve Rogers and [Y/n] [Y/L/n] had a visit to do: the cemetery. One of the many graves was the man that accompanied the beginning of their story. He was harder to find, as he wasn’t in the military.

The girl sank to her knees as she read his date of birth and death, noticing how apart they truly were. She chuckled in between her tears. Steve carefully placed his hand on her shoulder and asked why. She sniffed and told Steve she never thought the man was the age he actually was back when they lived in Brooklyn, she compared the man to the two of them. Steve joined in her chuckle, missing the good old times.

The attack in New York was something that made the duo start the Avengers, along with others of World’s Mightiest Heroes.

They should have learnt that nothing was impossible by. That a serum was created for Steve to be a better soldier, they both survived seven decades frozen and that a bunch of extraordinary and dangerous people could live under the same roof only complaining mildly and a once upon a week huge fight.

So why were they shocked to see Bucky Barnes alive? He showed up in Washington, Steve would recognize him any given day.

Their story was a messed up one from this point one, since Bucky didn’t seem to remember Steve or [Y/n]. Although the supersoldier tried to appear strong, she knew he was hurting as much as her. His best friend didn’t recognize him.

They knew they had a chance of bringing Bucky back when the Winter Soldier saved Steve’s life, by dragging his body out of the river. [Y/n] was less injured, she managed to swim with only a bit of assistance from the confused man.

And then said man left them at the shore.

He felt a tsunami of emotions inside of him, half of him engaged in a battle against his other half. Part of him claimed he knew the duo, that they were important somehow, while the other part begged for him to finish his mission.

It took them years to find him again.

Because when supersoldier, master assassin, skilled spy decided to hide, finding them was not an easy task.

Between the division of the once so strong team and political accords, Steve, Bucky and [Y/n] found themselves in Siberia. Tony Stark learned the truth about his parents’ death and seeked revenge. At the same time, T’Chala let go of his own.

Injured, the trio was taken to Wakanda. Bucky claimed as he didn’t have control of his own mind, going back under was the best thing for everybody. Both Steve and [Y/n] understood his choice and respected it, seeing it was one of the few he was able to make in the last seventy years.

After the Sokovian Accords were settled in a much looser way and Bucky recovering, the trio sat together. Steve and [Y/n] tried to trigger Bucky’s memories with words and past events. The Winter Soldier often recognized the stories, filling in with a detail or two.

Steve was silent for a second, his eyebrows furrowed together. When [Y/n] asked the reason, he asked if she still had them. Bucky didn’t know what ‘them’ mean, but [Y/n] quickly rose and went to her room. She dug her bag until she found it. Her fingers traced the silver patterns gingerly, remembering how many times she had to pack the box and take with her to everywhere she went.

She went back to Steve and Bucky and handed her husband the box. A box filled with letters.

After he observed them for almost an hour, his eyes darted back to her. With his voice hoarse, he asked why she kept them all those years. She simply smiled and gripped his first letter and the one he sent after Steve rescued him. She quietly answered they gave her hope.

Then and there, with Steve and [Y/n] by his side, he felt hope for the first time in many years.

TAG LIST

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[nphofrph]

100 Gravity Falls fanfic prompts!

You can do these as drabbles, one-shots, multi-chapter fics, whatever you please! You can also do them separately, or see how many of the prompts you can fit into a single story.

A story about Dipper and/or Mabel at school, pre- or post-Gravity Falls.

A story about the Stans during their childhood.

A story involving the death of a main character.

A story about Dipper and Mabel’s parents during or after the events of the show.

An alternate ending to your favorite episode.

A sequel to a fic you love to read.

A story version of a fan comic, piece of fan art, or fan video.

A story about one of the characters having a nightmare.

A story about Mabel comforting Dipper, or vice-versa.

A story about Mabel and Dipper returning to Gravity Falls years later.

A story about the relationship between Wendy and Manly Dan.

A story about the relationship between Soos and Stan.

A letter that Stanley never sent to Stanford, or vice-versa.

A story involving Soos running the Mystery Shack.

A story in which an unexpected canon character is the villain.

A story involving bonding between Mabel and Ford.

A story involving bonding between Dipper and Stan.

A story about Mabel meeting a couple of cute vampires.

A story about what Dipper did during the days he was alone during Weirdmageddon.

A story set during Ford’s dimensional travels.

A story about how Candy and Grenda became friends.

A story about Gideon after he first found Journal #2.

A story about Tyler Cutebiker and Manly Dan.

A story about Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland.

A story in which a character tries to make up for a past wrong.

A story about Toby Determined and Seandra Jimenez.

A story in which a character makes a deal with Bill.

A story about Quentin Trembley shortly after founding Gravity Falls.

A story in which the shapeshifter escapes the bunker.

A story set in Piedmont post-Gravity Falls, and prominently featuring Waddles.

A story involving a major sacrifice.

A whodunit mystery story.

A cross-over with your favorite cartoon (besides Gravity Falls).

A story explaining why Dipper and Mabel’s parents decided to send them to Gravity Falls.

A story involving the real Gobblewonker.

A story in which a character has mysteriously vanished.

A story about Dipper's clones 3 and 4.

A story involving “What Could Go Wrong?”, the board game.

A story in which a character has their wish magically granted.

A story about the relationship between Pacifica and her parents.

A story in which a crush goes unrequited.

A outsider-POV story about a counselor, therapist, or doctor trying to figure a character out.

A story involving a terrible thunderstorm.

A story about a ghost.

A story in which Bill and the Pines family must work together.

A crackfic that gets very meta; features either yourself or Alex Hirsch as a character.

A story involving a Mabel sweater with a special sentimental value.

A story involving Blendin Blandin and his job in the Time Anomaly Removal Crew.

A story based on a silly superstition turning out to be true.

A story about how Sev’ral Timez is doing now that they’re free.

A story about Mermando and the undersea civil war with the manatees.

A story about Agent Powers and Agent Trigger.

A story in which the mailman is revealed to be a werewolf.

A story about Grunkle Stan getting jailed in Colombia.

A story about Grunkle Stan having to chew his way out of a car trunk.

A story about Grunkle Stan accidentally letting bees loose in an elementary school.

A story about one of the characters dealing with bullying.

A story explaining the context behind the photograph of Grunkle Stan dressed as a devil and surrounded by flames.

A story based on an episode of the show, with a very different ending.

A story involving Dipper and Mabel when they were little kids.

A story about the origin of one of the Mystery Shack exhibit.

A story primarily set in Greasy’s Diner.

A story involving (mental or physical) torture.

A story involving a cursed artifact.

A story about Ford and Old Man McGucket.

A story about Soos and Melody.

A story involving a contest or competition.

A story based on or heavily involving a classic fairy tale or folk tale.

A story centering around Gompers.

A story in which there is a race against time.

A story focused on Wendy and her friends.

A story about Robbie and his parents.

A story featuring an original paranormal creature you make up.

A story in which a main character is gravely ill.

A story in which a main character is gravely injured.

A fanfic written by one of the main characters.

A story in which Stan strikes it rich.

A story about a break-in or robbery at the Mystery Shack.

A story in which a character is kidnapped.

A story involving a haunted house.

A story featuring a magic potion.

A story in which Dipper or Mabel helps Stan run a scam.

A story in which a paranormal investigators’ convention is hosted in Gravity Falls.

A story in which a character has a breakdown.

A story prominently featuring a fire.

A holiday-centric story.

A story in which Dipper and Mabel visit another dimension.

A story involving a character getting arrested.

A story in which two characters are trapped somewhere together, and it looks like there’s no hope of escape.

A story focused on Mabel’s love of arts and crafts.

A story about Duck-Tective.

A story about Mabel or Dipper keeping a big secret from the other.

A story primarily set at the Skull Fracture biker joint.

A story in which a character must face their greatest fear.

A story about possession.

A story in which one character accidentally casts a spell or curse on another character.

A story based on your favorite song.

A story involving a party.

A story in which Stan and/or Ford become Dipper and Mabel’s guardian permanently.

A story about saying good-bye.

[moiraineswife]

Fic Title: "Before We Lost Him" + "When We Were Left For Dead" + "Gone Before The Tide" + "Left With The Breeze" + "My Heart On A Platter (For You)"

“Before We Lost Him”- my originality is in the negative figures (I am just Preparing myself okay) so here is the sixteenth ‘Azriel dies’ idea: something sad and emotional, possibly his funeral but more likely the aftermath of that. Cassian, Mor and Rhys pass around a bottle of something strong and remember Az, comforting each other as best they can. Probably a few more little drabble type add-ons of them trying to live without Az in their midst - events that should have had them there, moments of them comforting one another and helping each other through the hardest days. 

 "When We Were Left For Dead"- okay the prompting here is to do something massively angsty (dude you’re really going all out to kill me here aren’t you?) but I actually want to do….well something less bad than I could have done I get points for that. Cassian and Nesta on a training exercise together in the Illyrian mountains but they end up trapped by a cave in. Nesta panics a little at the confinement and Cassian keeps her calm and looks after her. Full of…every trope I can possibly think including the timeless and essential ‘we should probably cuddle for warmth’ followed up with emotional confessions and conversations - Nesta about her Making, Cassian and his wings, the coming war, family, promises, the usual suspects. Lots of angst, drama feelings and tbh probably at the very least a steamy make out because this is nessian and I can’t control them. 

 "Gone Before The Tide"- More sad Landras because I can’t stop myself. Every year on the anniversary of Andras’s death, while the rest of Prythian celebrates the Cursebreaker and the beginning of the end of Amaranatha’s reign, Lucien takes it upon himself to honour the person that no-one seems to think of but who was just as brave as Feyre, and just as worthy of recognition. He saddles his horse and rides quietly into the woods around Spring until he finds the spot- Andras’s favourite place in the court and now the place where Lucien marked his death with a grave. Andras’s body isn’t there- no-one else wanted to cross the wall to retrieve him afterwards and Lucien couldn’t bring himself to do so, given the condition he was in…but he still likes to think he can be close to him here, can talk to him, remember him. 

One year, curious, Elain follows him and is shocked by what she finds - this brave male who changed everything and, in a lot of ways, brought them together too. She cautiously approaches Lucien and uses her magic to make something for him to offer Andras. Then she sits with him and lets him remember- not Andras’s death or the events that followed, but his life, the parts no-one ever seems to remark upon or consider- as though everything he did, everything he was, was simply a run up to that final act- his death, as though that was the most important thing. Elain understands that it’s not and she encourages Lucien to talk about him, to remember the good as well as the bad. This in itself becomes a tradition and every year she visits Andras with Lucien and learns more about the fae- the fae that her sister killed and so saved their world. 

 "Left With The Breeze"-  During the war, Lucien, refusing to talk to Feyre about her sister, refusing to acknowledge the bond openly at all, but unable to deny its existence, closets himself away in his room and writes letters to a girl he barely knows. He’s held her in his arms for bare minutes. Whispered three words to her. Looked into her eyes only when they were glazed with shock and terror hatred for him and his kind…yet he can’t get her out of his head. Something within him connects them, and he can’t escape it, might as well try to tear out his own heart with his bare hands than sever that bond between them. 

For the sake of his sanity, when he can’t whisper to her hoarsely in dreams, never sure what’s sent; let alone what might be received, he writes letters he never intends to send. He pours out his heart, his soul into them, tells her things he’s never told anyone before, things he’s barely even let himself hear, he puts down on paper for her. He tells her his greatest secrets, the darkest tragedies of his life, his fears, his pains, his scars, every black thing he’s ever done or had done to him.

 Slowly, gradually, over time, as though he’s bled over these papers and the mere thought of her presence on the pages has drawn the poison from him he starts telling her different things. He talks about the things he loves- little things, things of no real importance to anyone, his favourite colour, his favourite food, a scent he likes because it reminds him of home (the good parts of home), his favourite place in the Spring Court, the things he likes.

 At first they’re the things he displays most openly- training, his prowess as a warrior, horses, riding, hunts…but slowly he starts to examine the parts of himself that have been shut off from the light so long he was sure they had completely decayed and died. He tells her about the charcoal sketches he had done decades ago- all but forgotten until Feyre arrived at the court and requested paints. He tells her about the plays he had loved watching performed on festival night every year at the Autumn Court. And music. He tells her all about music. 

Months pass in this way as the war rages and yet, Lucien manages to find a quiet space, a scrap of paper, a pen that works enough to make some sense when he tries to write down his thoughts. He never sends the letters but can’t bear to destroy them either so he tucks them away, keeps them safe. 

once the war is over the Courts come together in neutral territory to discuss the future of Prythian. With them comes Elain. They manage to find a little time to talk and, summoning courage he didn’t know he still possessed from somewhere deep within, Lucien invites her to visit him at Spring. Clearly startled at first by the offer Elain then smiles and said she’d be very glad to accept. 

 During the afternoon of her visit, after Elain confessing that she  they head out for a ride into the Spring Court lands and, after a long moment’s hesitation to steel herself, Elain asks about the letters. 

Lucien is startled by the question, he had never told anyone about their existence and rarely thinks about them anymore. After the war, after meeting Elain, he had stopped writing them. She flushes and tells him that she always knew when he was writing them, she places an unconscious hand over her heart when she admits she could feel it. She got curious about it, she knew he was writing them for her so…Her blush darkens but she admits that she started writing him letters too. She never sent them, never planned to, but they helped. 

Lucien is stunned into silence for a long time. Eventually they return to the manor and Elain hands him a small envelope containing the first letter she wrote. In turn he gives her the first one she wrote. Over time while they’re still separated by the political turmoil in the wake of the war and their own insecurity, they send one another the letters they wrote and slowly begin to get to know one another through them. 

 "My Heart On A Platter (For You)“- Nessian arranged marriage AU (with a bit of feyrhys flung in for good measure). Nesta’s family are impoverished and on the brink of bankruptcy. In order to save their house from destruction, their father arranges a marriage for her with Cassian, a young bastard son of little repute struggling to settle into his newfound status having been promoted to lordship after accepting the title of commander of his liegelord Rhysand’s armies. Nesta flat out refuses the match, stating that she is not a sack of grain to be sold to whomever wishes to purchase her. 

In desperation her father writes to Cassian and invites him to their estates to visit. Cassian arrives and brings his lord and their inner circle with them. Nesta and Cassian initially clash over every subject, to her father’s dismay and she becomes even more insistent on not following through with the marriage. The two manage to find some unexpected common ground but Nesta is still deeply wary of allowing herself to belong to this stranger and continues to stubbornly refuse to union.

 However while visiting alongside Cassian, Feyre catches the eye of Rhysand and their following engagement and marriage saves their house and means that Nesta no longer has to follow through with the proposed marriage to the commander. 

As her sister and their house celebrates their recent good luck Nesta wrestles with her conflicted mixed feelings of relief and an odd tug of disappointment when she realises that the handsome commander with the soft heart will return to his lands with the newly married lord and lady and she’s unlikely to see him again. On the eve of their departure, Cassian visits Nesta and the tensions between them finally boil over. Realising this is their last chance, Nesta kisses him and the two of them fall into bed with one another. 

The following morning Nesta bids Cassian farewell with her typical cool, collected manner, betraying nothing  of the night they spent together. Less than a week later however, she’s written to her younger sister informing her that she intends to visit her shortly. Feyre, not at all fooled by this, placidly passes the note along to Cassian to let him know of the storm that’s about to break over him. She’s never seen anyone smile as broadly as Cassian does reading Nesta’s letter.