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world-of-fire-and-flight · 2 years

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Love Letters: Finale?

A/N: I’ve loved writing this series and am already planning a spinoff or something because there’re still some things I’d like to explore with these characters. Idk when this is happening, because I have a few prompts lined up, but it’s happening 😊 Also just a head’s up that this is about 3.8k words. Happy reading! Huge thank you to @selene-stories for the amazing prompt that kicked this series off and all of your amazing commentary throughout the series💜

Warnings: Implied torture/past torture, blood reference/blood mention, confusion, healing, injuries, past restraints/reference to having been restrained, implied medical scenario, scars, deserved mental breakdown, angst, some fluff

(This is not a prompt)

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Hero inhaled deeply. Their lungs nearly burst from the full breath. Lashes fluttering under their eyes, Hero was almost reluctant to open them, but knew the action was inevitable. They didn’t want to deny themselves the illusion of warmth and comfort of the bed that surely didn’t exist beneath them in place of the cold, damp basement floor and the rough ropes binding their wrists and ankles. Instead, they slipped further into that dream and burrowed deeper into the soft darkness of their subconscious. In the fraying moment between vague wakefulness and unconsciousness, Hero swore their cheek nestled into a cushy pillow that simply couldn’t exist. Somehow, it felt more like a reality to them than the absent chill of the basement that should’ve plagued them.

A sigh escaped Hero’s slightly parted lips. Slowly blinking their eyes open, Hero’s hands curled limply against—Hero’s brows furrowed. Mind swimming, they turned their head to the side and took in the dim room and the nightstand that met their gaze. Like a flood, their memories rushed to the forefront of their mind.

Other Supervillain had saved them. Other Supervil—Politician had saved them and had apparently killed Supervillain and Superhero…

“Dead, probably.”

What was Superhero’s fate? Were they confirmed alive or dead? Which did Other Supervillain prefer? Which did Hero prefer?

Uncertain and afraid of the answer poking around the edges of their mind, Hero curled up on their side and drew the blankets tighter around themselves, nearly burying themselves in the warm comfort of alleged safety. Other Super—Politician had promised not to hurt them, and waking up in a cloud of blankets and pillows surely indicated the truth in that declaration. Soothed for a time, Hero couldn’t fight the heavy closing of their eyes.

The next time Hero peeled their eyes open, golden sunlight peeked through the miniscule part in the heavy curtains of the bedroom Politician had left them in. They couldn’t note any changes in the room, if Politician or someone had checked in on them or if they’d been left to their unconscious state in blissful solitude this whole time. Some part of Hero argued that they could stay here forever, unbothered and unburdened, but the stronger part of Hero knew that they should get up and see just what their circumstances were.

Groaning, Hero forced themselves onto their elbows and fought to sit up against the headboard. Panting heavily, Hero laid a gentle hand on their abdomen. Their eyes widened. Bringing their frail hand to their face, Hero’s eyes narrowed and examined the dry skin of their wrist, and even their nails for any sign of the blood—their blood—that had spilled.

Not even a scratch remained on their skin. By all means, there was no sign of the rope burn or how the rope had peeled and shredded their skin until Hero had believed there was nothing left but bone to scrape at with every shift of their bonds.

Sagging against the headboard with a twist of their lips, Hero studied their limp hands. They wondered, briefly, what had been real and what they’d imagined. Their broken—or were they only bruised?—ribs were real, a fact echoed by the pull of pain in their torso whenever they moved.

Bringing their hands up, Hero went to scrub at their face, but where they thought they’d feel their own skin was only cloth.

Not just any cloth, though, Hero realized with a quick breath. The cloth was strong, nearly solid, the type of cloth used in supersuits. With trembling hands, Hero gently took the cloth from their face and turned the revealed mask over in their hands.

Why had Other Supervillain put their mask on them?

Admittedly, Hero appreciated that the master criminal had put them in something…less blood-soaked and grimy, but why had they given them their mask?

Hesitantly, Hero moved the blankets down the bed and exposed their lower half. The bruises and lacerations they expected to see were gone—if they’d even existed. The most evidence of their predicament lay in healed scars and reddened knees from being forced to kneel for so long. Aside from that, there were no serious injuries. There was only the memory, or the nightmare, of them.

Their lips twisted as they willed their leaden limbs into motion. Their bare toes awkwardly brushed the plush carpet as if they’d forgotten what it was to bear any weight—and Hero hadn’t even stood up from the bed yet. They didn’t know if such a feat was even possible.

Were their injuries truly that bad that they could only be partially healed? Or had more time passed than they’d initially believed upon waking?

Hero’s hands clenched into fists by their sides, the fabric mask crumpling in their fragile grasp. With one last deep breath, Hero hauled themselves to their feet. Their limbs bowed and Hero curled inward, nearly hunched over with drooping shoulders. Too weak to bear the weight of their body, they leaned against the nightstand to steady themselves. Settling a light hand against their stomach, Hero took a hesitant step forward in the hopes that their limbs would remember how to walk.

By the time they’d made it to the bedroom door, a few beads of sweat dotted their brow. Their breaths came in heavy puffs. It took a few embarrassing tries to get a handle on the doorknob and twist it as their eyes dotted with stars. But Hero managed to get the door open and lean against its frame as if they’d collapse.

Squinting out into the hallway, Hero glanced up and down its length in search of a sign—any sign with any meaning. But the hallway was empty except for the light and a long decorative carpet runner that covered its length.

Hero sighed, exasperated by the choice that lay before them. Was anybody here? Was Politician here?

Glancing down at the mask in their free hand, Hero wondered many things. What had they done to Supervillain? To Superhero? How could they be certain that Supervillain was dead but hesitant to declare the same fate of Superhero?

Hero’s blood ran cold. What had they done with the Ancient Sword?

Pushing away from the door, Hero hobbled down the hallway. Stiff and numb all the same, they kept a hand on the wall to keep them upright. More like, the wall held them up as they could not. Slowly progressing down the hallway, Hero sniffed. And sniffed again. Their mouth began to water, but no matter how much their mind urged them on, their body couldn’t go any faster than this snail’s pace.

The warm spice in the air beckoned them. Nearly dragging their exhausted body down the rest of the hallway, Hero stumbled out into a bright kitchen filled with that savory scent and an oppressive heat that billowed from a steamy pot on the stove.

“Hero?” Politician startled upon seeing them in the doorway. Immediately, the unmasked master criminal was at their side and guiding them into a hard kitchen chair. “What are you doing up? You should be resting!” Taking a step back, Politician ran a haphazard hand through their hair. “Clerk’s going to kill me, and so will Healer if they see you up.”

“W-w-wh—” Hero tried to speak but found their throat had gone dry. Politician turned away and pulled a glass down from a cabinet before filling it. Helping them hold it to their lips, Hero took a small sip and then another. They tried not to gulp it, afraid of drinking the refreshing liquid too quickly. It was all too tempting to do so, as it did wonders for their soul. Sagging against the straight-backed chair, Hero glanced up at Other Supervillain in all their civilian glory. “Why was I wearing your mask?”

Politician blinked at them. Any trace of the cold master criminal was blended into the public figure before them, exposing what could only be the person at Politician’s core—a vulnerable truth Hero doubted many people got to meet. “Yours was…it wasn’t in good shape.”

“But why?” Hero pressed quietly.

“I didn’t think you’d want anyone to know who you were,” Politician said honestly. “Though we didn’t run into anyone until we got here. Healer’s just resting, like you should be, but then they can—”

“It’s fine,” Hero interrupted, still hung up on the fact that Other Supervillain had given them their mask.

“I didn’t mean to overstep with the mask…I just didn’t think you’d want your identity exposed,” Politician hurriedly explained, as if they couldn’t sense exactly what Hero was thinking. Or maybe they weren’t using their telekinesis—out of respect? Did Politician do that? Did they restrain themselves and their powers out of respect for others’ privacy?

Hero placed a hand on Politician’s arm, fearing the headache they might conjure if they shook their head. “No, I mean about Healer. I’m fine, I’ll heal.” They shrugged. “It’ll only take longer.”

Politician narrowed their eyes, studying them. “It’s not a problem for them if that’s what you’re concerned about. It’s their job, and something they like doing. You just…you needed a lot of healing.”

“I know,” Hero whispered, closing their eyes. They swallowed the lump in their throat, but couldn’t find the courage to voice their fears.

Quiet footsteps paced away from them. Metal scraped against the glass stovetop and the bubbling slowed. Those same, patient footsteps approached them once more. Hero reluctantly opened their eyes to find Politician crouching down in front of them with concerned eyes. Hesitantly, Politician, laid a hand on theirs and gently pried their mask from Hero’s shaky fingers, setting it aside.

“Are you afraid?” They asked quietly, still resting their hand atop Hero’s in their lap but not quite holding their trembling hand.

Hero nodded, tears brimming in their eyes. They whispered, “Not of you.”

Politician smiled softly. “That’s something new…” They trailed off hesitantly before speaking again. “I’m sorry about the other day when I cornered you as Other Supervillain.”

“It’s okay,” Hero murmured, their voice weakening with each syllable. Their tears spilled over. “I know you n-ne—” They squeezed their eyes shut and took a deep, nearly painful breath thanks to how choked up their throat was. “You just needed to know what I knew.”

Gentle fingers brushed their tears away. Hero’s lip wobbled, tilting into a twisted frown. Before they could stop themselves, they half launched themselves, half fell into Politician, burying their head in the crook of their neck and wrapping their arms around them. Politician rocked back on their heels before they caught themselves and the sobbing purveyor of justice in their loose embrace.

Sitting up on their knees, Politician maneuvered them gently into a more comfortable position, loosely wrapping an arm around Hero’s waist and weaving careful fingers in their hair, cupping the back of their head.

“You’re safe here,” Politician assured them, even if they didn’t need to. “For as long as you need or want to stay, you’ll be safe here. Clerk is covering for you with the press as Other Superhero, and the Agency is scrambling to repair the fallout of Superhero’s betrayal. There’s nothing to worry about. Between myself and Clerk, you’ll be taken of. You’re safe.”

Hero took a shuddering breath, not sure how to feel about that or explain just what it was that plagued their mind. Eventually, the words came to them, but their voice wouldn’t work.

“I’m afraid if Healer does their job, none of it will be real to me.” Hero admitted shyly, curling further into Politician’s hold. “That it was all in my head.”

“So…seeing yourself heal will help you?” Politician asked slowly. “You’d rather not speed the physical process up, in case it was all a mind game?”

Hero nodded. With a shuddering breath, they mumbled against Politician’s skin, “I know I have to live with this, but I need to see it so that when…when the memories overwhelm me, I’ll know.”

“Memories are a difficult thing,” Politician said, tensing. Their voice was tight, as if steeling against a vulnerability they didn’t want Hero to witness. Hesitantly, Hero picked their head up to look at them. Even their features had turned guarded despite the gentle hand that slowly raised to wipe the wetness from their cheeks as Politician went on. “It’s not unheard of, though I don’t know how safe it would be to erase the subconscious too…I’m not offering, though.”

“And I’m not asking.” Hero fully peeled themselves away to look them in the eyes.

The pair stared at each other in silence. The tension in Politician’s features vanished at Hero’s words. Whatever Politician had set aside on the stovetop and abandoned had long since ceased its bubbling. Hero’s hands rested perfectly on Politician’s shoulders just as much as Politician’s hand fit perfectly against their cheek, cupping their face with a phantom’s touch like they were afraid Hero would shatter.

“What happened to Superhero?” Hero hated the murmured words that spilled from their lips and destroyed the peace between them.

“The Agency got to them in time. They’re…proportionately banged up, but they’ll live.” Politician didn’t so much as blink, but it wasn’t a ruthless façade masking their face, not this time.

No, this time their expression was open and almost soft, the picture of gentleness and care.

“They’re in custody, where they belong.”

Hero absorbed the words slowly, letting them sink into every shadow of their mind.

“Supervillain’s dead.” Politician’s jaw twitched, but their features didn’t harden like Hero expected they would. Instead, their fingers trailed along Hero’s jaw before they took their hand away and let it drop to their side. “I made sure of it.”

Hero swallowed. Their mind spun from too much information or maybe from the ordeal. It could’ve been the hunger clenching in their gut too, but it also could’ve been the way their heart swelled. Politician was magnetic, and so was their alter ego. Hero had always known it, had always been skeptical of Other Supervillain’s reverence and Politician’s impressive public relations. But being this close, this vulnerable? Hero didn’t know what to make of it, even if a tiny part of them longed for some semblance of what these feelings stirring in their gut could be.

“Does it bother you? That I’m a supervillain?” Politician asked. For the first time that Hero had ever noticed, the master criminal and beloved public figure seemed worried. Never before had the calm, collected mayor or the calculating, self-assured criminal ever showed an ounce of hesitancy in the way that they were now.

“Is there a reason why it should?” Hero’s heart fluttered in their chest. What were they really asking them?

Politician pulled away fully, sitting back on their heels. Hero was forced to lean back against the chair if they didn’t want to fall forward, though they sorely missed the safety of their companion’s careful embrace.

“If we were to be friends, not just allies as a hero and supervillain, but friends in our civilian lives…would it bother you?” They explained.

Hero studied them closely, looking for lies or half-truths where they didn’t exist. Their mind wandered to the sword. “I don’t think the fact would bother me…though I have to ask about the sword.”

Politician shook their head, chuckling a little. Standing, they said, “I figured you would ask.”

They ducked into another adjacent room and came back with the sword, its pommel still poking out between the cloth wrapping. Just as they came to stand before Hero again, the oven timer blared in the otherwise quiet of Politician’s kitchen.

They looked between the oven and Hero and back again. Laying the sword beside Hero on the table, Politician went to the counter and grabbed a pair of oven mitts. “It’s yours to deal with. You’re the only person anyone will trust to get rid of it. I’ve already given the Prominent Museum a decoy, as arranged.”

Hero’s entire being ground to a halt. They echoed, “‘As arranged?’”

Pulling a whole baked chicken from the oven, Politician flashed them a smirk. “I had plans of my own for the sword. Only Superhero and Supervillain beat me to it.

“I approached the Prominent Museum as Other Supervillain,” they explained, covering the chicken with foil and setting the whole pan aside on the stove as they reached for the pot they’d previously had boiling. Draining what was revealed to be potatoes, the master criminal continued divulging their plans to Hero.

“They’d been rumors that leadership at the Museum had wanted to destroy the sword because of multiple attempts throughout history to steal the sword, especially the more recent attempts. They were very eager to accept my offer to dispose of it for them, though as Politician, I needed to create a cover for why the exhibit was coming to City—hence the Business Committee meeting and city council agenda to take an interest in increasing tourism.

“It was actually very good for business, up until Supervillain stole the collection. But even reporters and investigators need to eat, so the Business Committee isn’t too upset by the bad press the city’s gotten recently.”

“So you…” Hero started, forcing their cloudy mind to work and process the scheme. “You arranged to help the Prominent Museum steal their own artifacts in order to destroy the sword, but to do that, you needed the collection to come here, to the City Museum? Why not just go to the Prominent Museum?”

“Because I was afraid it would raise too many eyebrows. It’s no secret Other Supervillain operates from City, and if I were to travel to Prominence as Politician and Other Supervillain just miraculously pulls off the greatest museum heist at the same time as my absence, someone might connect the dots,” they grinned pointedly at Hero.

Hero’s cheeks heated. They couldn’t say for certain whether they would’ve been tasked with the case if it were an international investigation because of Other Supervillain’s involvement, but they would’ve been curious and tempted to conduct some detective work of their own anyway. It’s why they were such a good hero. They were curious and interested by nature. They couldn’t let things sit, not if they were interested.

“Am I that predictable?”

“I’ve known you as Hero for years,” Politician said over their mixer, whipping the potatoes and adding some milk. “You’re dependable to a fault, and always present. Tell me, do you volunteer for security details or do you not get enough time off? Or is it good over time?”

Hero swallowed before they answered. “I just…like my job.”

Politician raised an eyebrow at them, moving on to slice the chicken. “The job? Nothing else?”

“There isn’t anything else,” Hero muttered. They eyed the sword beside them to avoid Politician’s stare. But it didn’t stop them from watching their savior out of the corner of their eye.

Politician set a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table and then the chicken and a basket of bread, breaking Hero out of their woes. Plates and utensils came next, and Hero repositioned themselves to sit comfortably at the table.

“You nearly took a bullet for me once.” Politician said. Hero glanced up at them, squirming in their seat anxiously. “I never thanked you for that. Not personally anyway, only in press conferences.”

“Is that why you saved me? To repay the favor?” Hero asked.

“No.” Politician shook their head firmly. “I saved you because it was the right thing to do. Do you know how many people were looking for you?”

Hero eyed them wearily, opting to fill their plate while they waited for Politician to go on. They grabbed a roll and tore a piece off to nibble on.

“Nearly every hero the agency has was out there looking for you. Half the city’s vigilantes too,” Politician said, beginning to fill their own plate. “But I knew none of them would know about Superhero’s betrayal or would think to look into Supervillain when you’d probably declared me your prime suspect in the artifacts case to try and shield yourself from Supervillain.

“I knew there wasn’t enough time for them to catch up to you and the clues that had led you to, rightfully, believe Supervillain was guilty,” Politician said. They took a breath and slowly drew their eyes up to look at Hero across the table. “You’re always here, for the city. You deserve someone who’s there for you too, and I knew I was the only one who could be in this instance.”

Hero studied them intently. “So it was out of duty then that you saved me?”

“Duty,” Politician smirked, “and admiration. I truly want what’s best for this city and…”

Hero arched their brow, waiting for Politician to say something more, but the master criminal only turned their attention back to their plate. Hero thought back to all of their interactions with them. There weren’t many as Hero and Other Supervillain, but in their time serving on Politician’s protection detail…Hero thought they’d imagined it. The lingering looks or the small smile when Politician looked over the heroes assigned to them and Hero thought their eyes had landed on them, but now…Hero was fully convinced that the secretive feeling was mutual.

But still, their mind held reservations, especially in the wake of Superhero’s betrayal and all they didn’t know about their friend’s personal life—or their professional life.

How is it that they came to love a master criminal? Had it happened in a similar way to this? Or had they been captured and manipulated into believing they loved Supervillain?

Hero supposed they might never know, and if they never had to see Superhero again, then they were perfectly fine with that. They could live with Superhero in custody, a fact that did actually bring them more relief than they thought it would, given the circumstances of their last few meetings.

“You don’t want to just be friends, do you?” Hero set their fork and knife aside, sitting back in their seat. Politician froze. Hero fiddled with their hands in their lap. When they finally met Hero’s gaze, Hero wanted nothing more than to shrink in their seat and disappear. Instead, they persevered, bolstered by the hopeful gleam in their companion’s eyes.

“Does it bother you that I’m a hero?” Hero asked in the stretching silence.

Politician chuckled, their eyes dancing. “Is there a reason why it should?”

“Maybe one,” Hero smiled back.

“So I’m not imagining things then?”

“No,” Hero smiled, “you’re not imagining things…but…I need time, now.”

Politician smiled soberly. “I know. Whenever you’re ready, however long you need, I want this to be your choice, not because it’s convenient or a way to mask what happened. I meant what I said. Take your time, Hero. There’s no rush at all. Besides.” Their smile turned wry. “You have a sword to destroy.”

“I do, don’t I?” Hero mused, eyeing the item in question. Somewhere, in the back of their mind, they rued the fact that a hero’s work was never done. What in the world were they going to do with that? How were they going to destroy it or keep it safe?

With any luck, the master criminal and new friend sitting across from them had an idea, one that hopefully wouldn’t destroy either of them in the process. Hero was ready to heal, but more importantly, they were ready to fill the blank pages of their life.

#what could've been #hero x villain #hero x supervillain #heroes and villains #writeblr #hero x supervillain drabble #hero x supervillain snippet #Love Letters series #hero x supervillain flangst #Y'all. This was hard. Like I had so many ideas and they didn't all fit so I think I might also post a info dump later #but I'm excited about the spin offs #i have ideas #they might not all be doable #but they're there #the spin offs are going to be canon but the info dump is going to be things I wanted to do/considered but just didn't work out

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astearisms · 7 months

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but it ain’t called love without a little tragedy 🍁

#my art #a love letter to betty and simon #getting to explore simon’s journey post AT finale and the nuances of his relationship with Betty has been an experience #I don’t know what’s next but we can only hope closure for them #that betty maybe learns to put herself first after putting every ounce of herself in simon #or that simon learns to let go? or both of them do #assuming we do see Betty again #i am preparing to say farewell to the series once again after the finale #thank you adventure time crew #fionna and cake #fionna and cake spoilers #simon petrikov #betty grof #petrigrof #adventure time #I forgot to mention #this animation was inspired by ‘autumn leaves’ by yves montand #but a cover of it #I was listening to the song because I wanted to learn it on an instrument #it’s a melancholy song about autumn and lost love #and as I heard the lyrics of course I instantly thought of these guys #and then I started drawing #inspiration had a strong grip on me #thank you for reading #and your support #I hope you guys have had as much fun with this show as I have #I’m grateful for it

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balletfilmss · 4 months

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LOVERS LAKE

✸ pairing : luke castellan x fem!reader

✸ synopsis: you & luke escape to the lake and away from counselor duties!

✸ warnings: pre-tlt, established relationship, kissing, me believing whole heartedly that i can fix him

✸ authors’s note: ignoring that it’s literally christmas & this is so summer-coded, charlie bushnell brought back my original series luke obsession so here you go 🙈

the lake was arguably the best place to be at camp half-blood, even for someone who hated the water and was all but dragged their by somebody else who loved it.

that someone was you, and the somebody else was luke.

that boy loved swimming in the lake like the stars love sitting in the sky, and the only thing that made it better was when you were there with him.

between knowing that fact and the pleading look in his pretty puppy eyes, how could you say no?

so now you and him were in the lake together, on a rare escape from your responsibilities as counselors during rec time. you may or may not have been hiding from your campers by staying hidden by the boathouse that stored the camp’s supply of canoes.

you were clinging onto the wooden dock while your boyfriend swam about, still putting on your angry facade at him after he threw you in the water initially.

was the way he scooped you up in his big strong arms and grinned like a little kid when he jumped in with you absolutely adorable? yes. did that mean you were going to let him get away with it? absolutely not.

pouting with your arms wrapped around the dock leg, you watched as the boy’s head disappeared underwater, not missing the mischievous glint that lingered in his eyes beforehand.

and just as you had expected, a wet head of dark curls popped up just beside you. just to be annoying, he shook his head like some kind of dog and laughed when you scrunched your face up at the flying drops of water.

the little loser laughed at you. now you were definitely mad, and would’ve crossed your arms and harrumphed if you weren’t still holding on to the dock like you’d die if you let go.

“are you ever gonna leave that poor dock be and actually come swim with me?” he asked, batting his pretty long eyelashes like he was pleading for you to do what he asked.

“go away.” you grumbled, looking away from him.

“aw, c’mon sweetheart.” he cooed, his tone teetering between teasing and sincere.

you felt familiar hands wrap around your waist as luke pried you away from the dock, ignoring your words of protest.

“you are literally going to drown me.” you frown as you have no choice but to hold onto him.

look, it wasn’t that you couldn’t swim, it was just that it was going to take one hell of a monster chasing you to make it happen.

“oh my gods, i am going to die.”

you were now out of arm’s reach of the shore, left with nothing but your boyfriend to keep you afloat. dam it.

“would you relax? i’m not gonna let you drown.” he chuckled, smiling at your antics as he kept both you and himself afloat.

“well you pushed me in, so you may as well.” you responded, sticking your chin up in dramatic negligence.

“hey, it was push you in or get caught and have about seventeen campers join us. which would you rather have?”

the first option, obviously, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

instead, you stuck to the silent treatment, which meant luke was left to his last and final resort.

“guess you leave me with no choice then,” he feigned a regretful sigh, even though you both knew he was ecstatic to do what he was thinking.

“wha- no. no no no no!”

luke had let go of your waist for no more than two seconds before you had screamed and clung onto him for dear life, your arms tightly wound around his neck and legs around his waist.

“i’m going to kill you, castellan.” you grumble, unable to see his reaction as your cheek was pressed against his.

there it was again, that gods damned chuckle of his that made your heart do little somersaults.

“love you too.” he said humorously. but when you didn’t reply with the same phrase, it was his turn to pout.

“hey.”

between the pout in his voice and the poke he delivered to your sides, you knew that your inattention had had just the effect you wanted.

this was the dance the two of you had done several times before. he’d annoy you, you’d ignore him and then you would relish in the way he turned into a lost puppy when it lasted for ten seconds too long, proving once again just how tightly you had him wrapped around your finger.

“hey. hey. hey.”

he poked you again and again, repeating the same word in hopes that you’d look at him, but you remained relentless.

“i’m not forgiving you that easily.” you insisted, as if your faces weren’t inches away from each other and water wasn’t the only thing between your body and his.

once again, he knew you too well to know there was little truth to your words.

he pressed a kiss to your cheek in hopes to get you to finally turn your head and look at him. again, nothing.

“hey, pretty girl.” he whispered, growing desperate and excruciatingly impatient. “would you at least look at me?”

feeling as though you’d drawn it out rather excessively, you listened and looked at him.

immediately, your lips were captured by his in a sweet kiss, the lake water seeping in between and tainting the flavor.

when he pulled away, luke wore a smirky kind of smile that made you want to kiss him again just to get rid of it and the giddy little feeling it gave you.

“am i forgiven now?”

he was, but instead of saying that, that was when you splashed a wave of water in his pretty little face.

#୨୧ love letters #｡ﾟ･ׂׂ daddy issues (kj’s version)#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you #percyjackson #percy series #pjo show #pjo x reader #charlie bushnell #luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians

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protectionsquad24601 · 6 months

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Lemony Snicket was canonically a cheerleader and I haven't seen a single person talk about it. The possibilities are delightful- Lemony saying cheesy rhymes in a deadpan voice?? Lemony in a cheerleader outfit in general?? Lemony getting tossed around by others more qualified to be a cheerleader?? Lemony who joined cheerleading simply because Beatrice was in soccer?

#“I will love you no matter how your soccer team performed in the tournament or how many stains I received on my cheerleading uniform”#thats from the “I will love you letter”#from the Beatrice letters #im so obsessed with everything in the Beatrice Letters #lemony snicket cheerleader fanart WHEN #a series of unfortunate events #asoue #atwq #averse #all the wrong questions #lemony snicket #the betrice letters #beatrice and lemony

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zhi-liet · 1 year

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“Chaghan would have commanded like a demon.

Chaghan would have shattered their minds.”

#this series made me sick #so consider this my love letter to chaghan #l have not stopped crying #I wanted to know so much more about him #rf kuang #chaghan suren #the poppy war #the dragon republic #the burning god #chaghan #okyu’s fever art

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mymycorrhizae · 4 months

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Nat Sakdatorn as Art Parkin

#the sign #the sign the series #thesignedit #thesignsource #my love letter to nats acting #nat sakdatorn #art parkin

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pharawee · 4 months

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—TWINS THE SERIES · Episode 8

#twins bl #twins the series #ryan panya #frame ritchanon #spritefirst #firstsprite #twinsbledit #thai bl #thai drama #bl drama #bl series #my edits.#i love this series but its pacing is way off #the triple take i did when there were suddenly big couple letters over their pushed together beds #when did that happen #more importantly why didn't we see it happen #them pushing together their beds would have been such a cute scene to see #and how the hell did they smuggle these letters past the other guys #does no one else ever visit their room

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hanabyka · 3 months

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I drew all 65 Love Live girls 💖

#love live!#love live school idol project #love live sunshine #love live superstar #hasu no sora #nijigasaki #my art #this took me months I am very tired but happy with my love letter to this series!

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thatoldbooksmellsstuff · 6 months

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When Achilles said "And though the dead forget the dead in the house of Hades, even there I shall still remember my beloved companion" and Lemony Snicket said "I will love you as misfortune loves orphan, as fire loves innocence and justice loves to stil and watch while everything goes wrong" And when Franz Kafka said "Love is that you are the knife which i plunge into my self" And when Cardan Greenbriar said "My heart is a shabby, worm eaten, scabrous thing. But it is yours"

#the illiad #achilles #patroclus #lemony snicket #a series of unfortunate events #franz kafka #letters to milena #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #folk of the air #what is love?#everything everything

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supanuts · 3 months

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grief, i've learned, is really just love. it's all the love you want to give, but cannot. all that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. grief is just love with no place to go. — jamie anderson, all my loose ends

#pit babe #pit babe the series #charliebabe #pavel phoom #pavel naret #pooh krittin #pitbabeedit #sasa gifs #shoutout to the-wayside for reminding me about this quote the other day #one more day!!!#i'm being so strong by not putting the 'grief i've learned is really just love'#+ 'it's all the love you want to give but cannot'#+ 'grief is just love with no place to go'#in barely legibile letters in the bw gifs you guys

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jumbleddufus · 6 months

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I swear it's always "I love you so much!" but never

"I will love you with no regard to the actions of our enemies or the jealousies of actors. I will love you with no regard to the outrage of certain parents or the boredom of certain friends. I will love you no matter what is served in the world's cafeterias or what game is played at each and every recess. I will love you no matter how many fire drills we are all forced to endure, and no matter what is drawn upon the blackboard in a blurring, boring chalk. I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to divide fractions, and no matter how difficult is it to memorize the periodic table. I will love you no matter what your locker combination was, or how you decide to spend your time during study hall. I will love you no matter how your soccer team performed in the tournament or how many stains I received on my cheerleading uniform.

I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you next Tuesday. I will love you if you cut your hair and I will love you if you cut the hair of others. I will love you if abandon your baticeering and I will love you if you retire from the theatre to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. I will love you as the pesto loves the fettuccini and and as the horseradish loves the miyagi, as the tempura loves the the ikura and the pepperoni loves the pizza. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer.

I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness of the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written.

I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm wale loves the flavor of naval uniforms.

I will love you as a child loves to overhear the conversations of their parents, and the parents love the sound of their own arguing voices, and as the pen loves to write down the words these voices utter in a notebook for safe keeping.

I will love you as a shingle loves falling off a house on a windy day and striking a grumpy person across the chin, and as an oven loves malfunctioning in the middle of roasting a turkey. I will love you as an airplane loves to fall from a clear blue sky and as an escalator loves to entangle expensive scarves in its mechanism. I will love you as a wet paper towel loves to be crumpled into a ball and thrown at a bathroom ceiling and an eraser loves to leave dust in the hairdos of the people who talk too much. I will love you as a cufflink loves to drop from its shirt and explore the party for itself and as a pair of white gloves loves to slip delicately into the punchbowl. I will love you as a taxi loves the muddy splash of a puddle and as a library loves the patient tick of a clock. I will love you as a thief loves a gallery, and as a crow loves murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong. I will love you as a battlefield loves young men and as peppermints love your allergies, and I will love you as the banana peel loves the shoe of a man who was just struck by a falling shingle off a house.

I will love you as a volunteer fire department loves rushing into burning buildings and as burning buildings love to chase them back out, and as a parachute loves to leave a blimp, and as a blimp loves to chase after it.

I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person's back, and as a certain person loves to wear dagger proof tunics, and as a dagger proof tunic loves to go to a certain dry cleaning facility, and how a certain employee of a dry cleaning facility loves to stay up late with a pair binoculars, watching a dagger factory for hours in the hopes of catching a burglar, and as a burglar loves sneaking up behind people with binoculars, suddenly realizing that she has left her dagger at home.

I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as a noise of a glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping out into the world.

I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. I will love you until every fire is extinguished and until every home is rebuilt from the handsomest and most susceptible of woods, and until every criminal is handcuffed by the laziest policeman. I will love you until M. hates snakes and J. hates grammar, and I will love you until C. realizes that S. is not worthy of his love and N. realizes he is not worthy of V. I will love you until the bird hates the nest and the worm hates the apple, and until the apple hates the tree and the tree hates the nest, although honestly, I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try.

I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and that long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you as the chances of us running into each other slip from slim to zero, and until your face is fogged by a distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don't see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me, happens to you as I am discovering this. I will love you if you don't marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else—your co-star perhaps, or Y., or even Q. or anyone Z. through A., even R. although sadly I think it will be quite some time before two woman can be allowed to marry—and I will love you if you have a child, and I will love you if you have two children, or three children, or even more, although I personally think three is plenty, and I will love you if you never marry at all and never have children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late, cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned.

That Beatrice, is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way. Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope."

#me realizing that i will never be loved the way lemony loves beatrice #me and who fr #lemony snicket #beatrice baudelaire #the beatrice letters #a series of unfortunate events #asoue #long post #faves #jumbleddufus rambles

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world-of-fire-and-flight · 2 years

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Love Letters: Part 8

A/N: So…I’ve learned that writing torture is not my jam, so this takes place a few hours or so after Part 7 because I just can’t write graphic torture/whump/gore😊 But the aftermath—now that’s fun😈

Warnings: Implied torture, implied sadistic whumper, past torture, implications of past torture, injury/injuries, blood/blood mention/blood reference (okay, so maybe “lots” of blood if you’re squeamish like I am), knife reference, reference to genocide and mass murder (neither take place. These atrocities are only mentioned and proposed), emotional distress, slight disassociation, manipulation, implied threats, actual threats, broken bones, betrayal, consensual loss of consciousness

Love Letters series masterlist | My masterlist

Hero’s head hung limp against their chest. The strain in their neck had ceased its crying, but it didn’t make whatever part of Hero’s mind still remained from recognizing the minor discomfort. Their breaths were wheezy, nearly gurgling through blood and mucus. Despite their circumstances, despite all the pain, they relished this moment of borderline unconsciousness. They didn’t know how long it had taken for their screams to bother Superhero, or if the bastard had forced themselves to stomach the wails until they simply couldn’t. It wasn’t until well after Hero’s throat had passed the threshold of hoarseness and scratchy that the traitor had finally come barreling down the stairs and put a stop to their lover’s sick game.

“Stop, please, Supervillain,” Superhero pleaded and stepped in front of the master criminal, their back to Hero now.

Hero watched through half-lidded eyes and hazy vision as Superhero gripped their lover’s hand, bloodied and still clutching their current instrument of torture. Thanks to their former friend’s stature, they couldn’t see the master criminal. They couldn’t gauge the situation, but they could certainly gauge the person—the traitor—standing before them.

It wasn’t a plea to let them go. It wasn’t a plea to give them care or even to leave them be. Superhero had only asked for them to stop.

“Why should I? Because you can’t stomach it?” Supervillain said between gritted teeth. From the slight view they had, Hero saw Supervillain’s hand clench as they ripped their other from Superhero’s trembling grasp.

Superhero inhaled sharply. They answered Supervillain quietly, so quietly they may not have said anything at all. “Because I’m asking you to.”

Silence pounded in Hero’s ears alongside the thrumming of their weakened heartbeat.

“Please.” Superhero’s voice cracked.

There was static between the two for only a moment. And then, Supervillain was turning sharply. Hero flinched, jarring their injuries and causing more blood to ooze from the wounds littering their front as Supervillain slammed down the heavy handled knife on the tray of tools, causing more of them to rattle and the clatter to echo throughout the basement.

They saw the moment their former mentor sagged with relief. They could even picture the face they were making: eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and an overall slackness in their features. But they didn’t turn to look at them.

No. Superhero only stepped closer to Supervillain, still fuming over their tools. Hero could see now that the master criminal’s eyes were withdrawn beneath their furrowed brows and the shadows of their face.

If their jaw would allow it, Hero would’ve cracked a smirked. The master criminal was bothered. Bothered by the insecurities Hero had managed to stoke before their torture had started and in between all of their screeching.

They prayed that if this was to be the last thing they did on this earth, then so be it. They could be content with that. If their words—and their bloodcurdling screams—drove these two to tear each other apart and squabble amongst themselves, then good. It would at least buy someone else time to locate the pair, and the Ancient Sword, and put a stop to Superhero’s genocide before it could even begin.

Hero eyed the pair wearily as Superhero set a seemingly gentle hand on Supervillain’s shoulder. The criminal stilled at the touch, eyeing it with something Hero could only read as disdain. Superhero murmured something too low for Hero to hear, but it made the sadistic criminal glance at their lover with a laser focus.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” Superhero suggested soothingly. Hero wanted to hurl. How could someone be so tender toward a monster like Supervillain? And in front of their victim, no less?

Supervillain sent a glare in their direction as if they could sense their judgement. And who knew? Maybe they could.

“I’ll leave them be,” Supervillain started, their eyes cutting back to Superhero. “But so will you. You won’t even go near them.”

Superhero swallowed. Their body stuttered a beat, as if they were inclined to look their way, but they didn’t so much as move. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The words settled on Hero’s ears like a lead weight.

They wanted to believe Superhero was stuck between a rock and a hard place, that they had no choice in the matter, and that this was the only means of aid they could conceivably give them. But Hero knew better. Superhero had betrayed them, had sold them out to Supervillain. And if they’d had time, maybe they would’ve found evidence to prove the instinct in them that spat that Superhero had orchestrated the whole thing.

The artifacts heist, the letters, the kidnapping, everything except for their lover’s thorough torture.

But they’d forced Supervillain to stop. Hero believed that they were the only person who could quell Supervillain’s blood thirst, but doubted very much that the master criminal would leave them alone forever—even if they’d promised their lover to do just that.

The pair left in silence with only of the scuffing of their shoes on the cement floor to fill the vacuum. Hero sagged against the pole they were tethered to. Their eyes fell shut. Their mind whirled through a daze. It was strange, just how conscious they were yet they couldn’t string a single, coherent thought together. Nothing could settle in the fog or find stable ground to lay roots into. With what was left of their rationale, Hero knew they were taxed. From the tremble in their stiff muscles to the trickle of drying blood crusting around their wounds, to the weight of their swollen eyes, they simply couldn’t take anymore.

So they promised to let themselves rest. They would rest, and then—Hero didn’t quite know what came after “then.” With each passing second in their newfound, relative safety, their mind refused to work. Thinking became a foreign concept to them. What was a thought? How was it more significant than the sharp breaths through their nose or the cracked spirit slipping through their wounds? How could something as fragile and clouded as their mind be of any use to them now?

Musty air assaulted Hero’s dry tongue and forced itself down their throat as they sucked in a harsh breath. Fingers ghosted over their bloody cheeks, quite literally a phantom touch that Hero wasn’t certain was actually there. Their shoulder screamed as they flinched sharply at the gentle touch. Their head slammed back against the pole they were tied to. Hero’s legs jerked, but couldn’t kick out or move from under them even as they tried to make themselves sit up.

“Hero, stop,” a familiar voice murmured. “You’re only going to hurt yourself more.”

Hero’s swollen and blood-crusted eyes focused blearily on the figure crouching in front of them. Keen eyes and a perfectly schooled face wavered in front of their delirious eyes.

“I’m going to get you out of here. It might hurt, but you’re safe,” the figure told them confidently. They leaned closer to them and Hero turned their head away, ducking their chin into their mangled shoulder. The air around them shifted, and so did the person before them if the warm breath ticking Hero’s skin through their shredded supersuit was any indication. “Try not to move too much. You’re hurt pretty badly.”

Hero gave into the urge to let their eyes fall shut. Somewhere inside of them, a meek voice told them to listen.

Whatever, they thought.

Fingers grazed their curled hands. Hero whimpered as those fingers then began to work at the rope binding their wrists, unintentionally pulling it tighter as they hopefully worked to undo the knot. Hero rubbed their split, chapped lips together, nearly wishing the person before them would just cut it off.

“I didn’t think you’d like that,” they huffed, laughing.

The gears in Hero’s brain shifted just enough for their mind to turn over in recognition.

“Uh…s?” Their barely conscious tongue rasped. You.

“Me.” Other Supervillain’s lips quirked up into a smile, a sight Hero’s half-lidded, half-swollen eyes caught before they were forced to let them close again. Everything was too much effort for their drained body. They flinched as a schwick clicked in their ears, the telltale noise of a knife flicking open. They forced their breaths to remain steady, a task easily completed thanks to the careful coaxing of their intuition.

The rope around their wrists pulled tighter again before it snapped. Hero’s arms gave out. Their muscles trembled violently, strained from the position, from the tension, from being coiled up in the expectation of further pain. Unwillingly but unable to stop themselves or hold themselves up, Hero lurched forward, colliding with Other Supervillain’s expectant embrace.

“It’s okay,” Other Supervillain soothed. “Just rest.”

Hero remained silent. Steeling themselves, they battled against their senses to ignore the surge of pain flooding their system from jarred injuries, stinging cuts, and the itch of dried blood.

From non-threatening stab wounds to shallow cuts, Supervillain had marred their flesh in just the right way to keep them alive—though Hero believed it was no less painful than if the master criminal had a mind to actually kill them.

And who knew, maybe they’d wanted to kill them. Maybe that was their goal, for whatever reason if not for their own bloodlust. All while their lover wanted to rid the city—if not the world—of masked villains and supervillains.

Ever so gently, Other Supervillain managed to reposition Hero so they could slice through the rope binding their ankles behind the pole. Hero groaned as their legs quaked, finally giving into the limpness and breaking the crust of dried blood as their limbs parted weakly. They sagged into Other Supervillain’s weak hold, their cracked lips parted, nearly panting.

“Take all the time you need, Hero. There’s no rush, not anymore.”

Hero tilted their head to look up at them, but the gleaming metal of an ancient pommel peaking out of a plain cloth wrapping beside Other Supervillain caught their eye.

Of course you went for the sword before me. They thought bitterly, perhaps angrier and more surprised than they should’ve been.

“I just happened upon it first,” Other Supervillain assured them, smirking. “Besides, I couldn’t let the Agency get a hold of it. Who knows how deep Superhero’s corruption runs.”

It’s love.

Other Supervillain went rigid. “What is?”

Between them. They love Supervillain. Hero squeezed their eyes shut again, as if that could hide the hideous truth from them. The tension eased from Other Supervillain’s body. Superhero wanted the sword.

“Do you know why?”

Hero shook their head tightly—or as best as they could, anyway. The movement instantly flooded their empty stomach with nausea. Their head rattled with the dull headache, coming to a sharp crescendo as the pain exploded in their temples.

Other Supervillain’s arms carefully shifted around them, gently repositioning them again so they were laying against the hard floor with Hero’s head in their lap. Hero’s lips twisted, but they remained silent. They couldn’t speak even if they’d wanted to. They’d be surprised if all their screaming hadn’t shredded their vocal cords after all—especially since they’d continued to wail even after their voice failed.

“It might be easier on you if you were unconscious, Hero,” Other Supervillain said softly. “It wouldn’t hurt, I promise.”

Superhero? Hero asked instead.

“Dead, probably. I’ll have to call the Agency once we clear out so they can retrieve the bodies,” they answered unflinchingly. Hero blinked, their mouth parting a little more. The dangerous criminal’s fingers softly grazed Hero’s temple, drawing a light pattern across their brow and back again. “Supervillain won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

Something hard passed over Other Supervillain’s face, or what Hero could see of it beneath their mask. Every movement of their features was like a puzzle, so unlike who they were as Politician. Hero wondered just which one was the alter ego and which was their default—and where that left Hero in their graces.

“I suppose Clerk will give me an earful when I see them next,” Other Supervillain sighed, and if Hero was a little more confidant in their perception of the masked persona, they would say they were being comedically dramatic.

Hero swallowed limply. They were so tired. Everything ached. Every bone, every muscle, every thought. They weren’t sure how much of it was from their injuries and how much of it was a result of their sheer relief at possibly being rescued. It won’t hurt?

“Not a bit. You won’t feel a thing until well after you get medical attention.”

Not your captive, then?

“Too many people would go to war for you.” And just like that, Politician’s personable nature shone through the suave, calculating criminal.

If Hero could manage, they would’ve rolled their eyes. Even if they could, Other Supervillain hadn’t given them a chance to between the time they’d assented to the master criminal’s suggestion and when their consciousness slipped into the soothing darkness of a peaceful rest.

Part 9

Taglist: @selene-stories

A/N 2.0: I’M NOT READY FOR THIS SERIES TO END.

Thank you all for attending my brief post-realization panic and supporting me through my whiplash as what started out as a supposed two-part prompt fill turned into a short series which then turned into my brief foray into writing whump that suddenly came to a screeching halt waaaaaaay sooner than I expected it to. Even though a lot (a lot, holy shit) of this series came as a surprise to me (namely the fact that it was a short series), I’ve loved every second of it…even though it sometimes hurt me. And blindsided me. And gave me whiplash at times.

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