#but we'll see if I can actually get a snippet up this saturday....maybe that'll be next week's mission😅

[world-of-fire-and-flight]

I posted 709 times in 2022

That's 621 more posts than 2021!

169 posts created (24%)

540 posts reblogged (76%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ambiguouspuzuma

@heroes-villains-side-blog

@selene-stories

@writingonesdreams

@smuwfy-side-blog

I tagged 642 of my posts in 2022

Only 9% of my posts had no tags

#writeblr - 297 posts

#author appreciation - 267 posts

#not my writing - 219 posts

#heroes and villains - 182 posts

#hero x villain - 116 posts

#writer appreciation - 104 posts

#my writing - 93 posts

#fire & flight - 78 posts

#b's reading recs - 69 posts

#bookblr - 63 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#and also because i'm curious how necromancy and healing powers would work together so...i need a running list of things i intend to write😅

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Love Letters: Part 2

A/N: I did not intend to write more than two parts for this, it’s shaping up to be a short series🤦I may not know where this is going or where we’ll end up, but god am I excited for the ride😆

Warnings: intimidation, implied threats, slight interrogation, gaslighting (idk if this counts as gaslighting, but I’m putting a warning in because it felt kinda gaslighty to me), minor anxiety/fear, stressful situations, the author not knowing this was to become a series

Part 1 | Part 3 |My masterlist

Hero spent the days after the gala laying as low as they possibly could without disappearing altogether. They didn’t know what to make of Supervillain’s…proposition. But they knew one thing: there was no harm in heeding the criminal’s “suggestion” to blend into the shadows for a while. Hero knew they couldn’t disappear altogether, for their absence might draw more attention than if they were to take a step back from crime fighting. A small step, an easy step. Stop a low tier villain here, break up a petty crime there, but nothing more. Above all else though, Hero had to keep a finger on the underground’s pulse. They didn’t know when or if they’d hear from Supervillain again, so their best defense against Other Supervillain was to be as in the know as much as possible.

Their mind was still reeling from the revelation that Politician was Other Supervillain. Hero didn’t know if they could wholly believe it…but it explained a few things. It explained how Politician had gotten the money for their successful campaign, how things they seemed to want to improve suddenly got taken care of even when they hadn’t garnered the support to do anything about it, and how they’d remained in office despite multiple attempts on their life by the city’s more ambitious criminals.

So, Hero had reasoned over and over again, either Politician was a chess master, Other Supervillain benefitted from their mayorship, or the master criminal and controversial figure were one and the same.

Hero bit their lip, turning the puzzle over in their head again. It was possible Supervillain had lied to them — about everything. But why? And why would they be working with Other Supervillain? Was it under duress? Were they playing a long game to take Other Supervillain’s mantle? What was the angle, and how did Hero play into it?

“That’s a wonderful question, darling.”

Hero whirled around. Other Supervillain stood in the shadows of the dimly lit street. Hero went stock still, their blood running cold, as the master criminal approached slowly. With all the ease in the world, Other Supervillain backed them against the abandoned brick building. Hero’s lips quivered as Other Supervillain crowded them, trapping them against the rough brick. Their eyes darted to either side. Crestfallen, Hero realized they’d wandered into the abandoned industrial center of town. The old factory was the pinnacle of the city’s devastation, and by virtue, the beginning of masked crime.

“You’ve gone awfully quiet, Hero,” Other Supervillain said humorlessly. Hero shrank under their gaze, curling into themselves as Other Supervillain leaned in closer. “I didn’t frighten you, did I?”

“M-maybe,” Hero shuddered. Maybe if they hadn’t gotten lost in their speculations, they wouldn’t have strayed so far from the observed streets. Maybe if they had paid more attention to their patrol, they wouldn’t have wound up trapped between a building and the imposing criminal bracketing them in with their arms on either side. Close, crowded, but not touching. There was that at least. That bit of space that teased clarity, and maybe even a dumb sense of safety.

Other Supervillain studied them closely. There wasn’t an ounce of distinguishable emotion on their face. All Hero could do was stare back at them, wide-eyed and with a tight chest.

“You attended my gala the other night. Why?”

“I—”

“Don’t,” Other Supervillain interrupted quietly, “think about lying to me. I’ll know, and I don’t have time to deal with you further. Answer my questions and nothing will happen to you.”

“And I’m supposed to trust that? Trust you?” Hero questioned skeptically.

Other Supervillain’s lips quirked in what might’ve been a wry smile. “When have I ever gone back on my word?”

Hero swallowed. Was there any sense in asking them to clarify what they meant by that? If they were talking about their life of villainy or as a public figure? Besides, Hero didn’t know if Other Supervillain knew what Supervillain had told them at the gala, so maybe they didn’t know that Hero knew who they were — if Supervillain was to be believed that is.

“I was following a lead.” A half-truth, but honest enough that Hero didn’t think it could be considered a lie.

“What kind of lead? I need you to tell me everything, Hero. The harder you make this, the less likely this will end amicably.”

“The stolen artifacts. I received a tip that they might be at the gala, and I went to retrieve them,” Hero hesitated, not certain if that was the answer Other Supervillain was searching for, or if they wanted Hero to trap themselves by allowing them to prattle on under the threat of…well a vague threat of being hurt.

“You’re searching for the artifacts? From the museum?” Other Supervillain asked with what sounded like doubt. Hero’s head spun. Fighting crime was so much easier when they could gauge what was going on in their enemy’s head or their next action, but Other Supervillain gave little indication to help them in any way.

“Yeah,” Hero nodded. “They were worth a lot of money. Could fund…I don’t know, but if a villain stole them and sold them on the black market…”

Other Supervillain pulled back slightly, but didn’t drop their hands from either side of Hero’s shoulders. Hero watched them wearily as the other seemed to study them from head to toe. Their breath coming a little easier now, Hero hoped that was all.

“I didn’t steal them. I’m not a petty thief.”

“I didn’t say you were. That’s why it’s called ‘a lead’, you follow—”

“Hero,” Other Supervillain chastised, “I’m losing my patience. Tell me, why did you dance with Supervillain?”

Hero flinched. “I didn’t know it was them, not until later.”

“What made you realize it was Supervillain?”

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47 notes - Posted April 5, 2022

#4

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)

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist

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.

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55 notes - Posted May 28, 2022

#3

The Lair in the Woods

A/N: I wasn’t really planning on posting anything of mine today, but I’ve had my eye on this amazing prompt by @some-messed-up-writing-for-you for a while now and decided today is the day! Prompt is in blue font!

Warnings: Nearly freezing to death, unedited, medical scenario, HIPPA violation because I think it’s cool if people with healing powers can sense old injuries/illness when examining another person

LMK if I forgot anything!

My Masterlist | Taglist Info | The Lair in the Woods series masterlist

Civilian staggered through the knee-high snow. Clutching their arms tightly around their middle, they tried to hunch their shoulders and tuck their head close enough to their chest to shield their face from the biting wind. It was a useless effort. The snow and howling wind blasted their body until they could hardly keep their eyes open. Trudging through the dense snow for what seemed like an eternity, sweat dripped down Civilian’s spine and collected along their brow. Their breaths were more like wheezes at this point.

They were never going to make it back to their cabin.

Supervillain let out a long sigh, dropping the papers they were studying back on their desk. “Come in.”

“Uh, Boss?” A henchman they hadn’t seen before poked their head into the office, not even daring to step over the threshold of the door. “We…found someone in the woods…during one of our, uh, one of our patrols.”

“And I care because?” Supervillain sat back in their chair, tilting the seat back slightly to stretch their legs out under their desk, and clasped their hands over their stomach.

“Other Henchman believes they’re a civilian and Right Hand can’t identify them, so t-they sent me to tell you.”

Supervillain studied them for a moment, turning all the different scenarios over in their head. It could be a hero. It could very well be a trap, an attempt to infiltrate their lair, but if Right Hand couldn’t identify them…

Their lair was fairly isolated, and in a storm like this, no one in their right mind would be out and about. By all accounts, their base was impenetrable today. Even if someone from one of the few vacation homes scattered across this mountain had lost their way in the woods, they would’ve known better than to go out on a day like today.

“Where are they now?” Supervillain stood from their desk and pulled on their jacket. Their winter fortress had a notorious heating issue in the sense that the hallways were freezing and only the rooms with a roaring fire or space heater were in any sense comfortable.

“In the infirmary with Right Hand.”

“You’re dismissed.”

The lackey bobbed their head and left without another word. Supervillain shook their head, lips pursed as they put on their weapons belt. They wouldn’t last long in Supervillain’s organization if they couldn’t make a report to their superior without shaking in their boots. Perhaps it was only the cold. Maybe they were still pretty new, but either way, Supervillain expected their resignation on their desk sooner rather than later.

With slow, deliberate steps, Supervillain crossed their office and locked the door behind them. They clenched their jaw against the cold air of the hallway that assaulted them as soon as they’d step foot over the threshold. The shock trailed down their spine, making them grateful for the fur-lined collar and thick fabric of their coat.

They had every intention of ransoming whoever it was that had shown up on their doorstep. Unless it was Mentor. They’d be more than happy to rid the world of the likes of them.

Quickly, they wove their way through the converted ski lodge they’d purchased for a bargain until they reached the infirmary, and with it the warmth of a space heater. The infirmary was on the main level of the lair, and therefore in one of the original parts of the old ski lodge. Supervillain doubted any patients would find must peace given how the wind howled right outside the thin windows did nothing to dampen the sound.

Right Hand had their feet kicked up on Medic’s desk, their laptop balanced on their thighs and their brow furrowed in concentration.

“So, who was dumb enough to brave this storm?”

At the sound of their voice, Right Hand glanced away from their screen, their eyes flashing with annoyance but the frown of their lips faded into an amused smirk when they realized it was only them.

They raised their brows. “I’m surprised Henchman didn’t pass out,” Right Hand laughed. “They might just survive in this job.”

Supervillain chuckled, stripping off their jacket and draping it over a spare chair by the doorway.

“As far as our human popsicle goes, I have no clue. There’s nothing on them personally to indicate any kind of association, hero or rival. I’ve checked every record we have on hero IDs and hacked the Union but so far nothing,” they grumbled. Their attention shifted back to their screen. “The Guild has better cybersecurity, so it might take me awhile before I can get into their system and find their personal records.”

Supervillain nodded. “And their condition?”

“Unconscious, but not hypothermic,” Right Hand said. Sighing, they added, “Medic says the patrol found them just in time. We just have to thaw them out and wait for them to wake up.”

“Lucky them.” Supervillain took a step closer to the medical bays, seeking out their prey.

As they approached the last medical bay, Medic swept through the curtains and ensued they were drawn, their focus entirely on the patient chart in their hands.

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59 notes - Posted July 23, 2022

#2

Love Letters (Part 1)

A/N: I had to search high and low for this lovely prompt by @selene-stories because I knew I had it saved in my drafts and it was a MOOD. So glad I found it again because I distinctly remembered the gist of it and needed something more flangsty than angst😅 Prompt and prompt lines (I repeated a line later on) are in blue font!😊

Warnings: betrayal, manhandling, violence, physical assault (in the form of hand-to-hand combat), gunshots/gun references/being shot at, threats, dangerous situations, emotional distress (not necessarily a panic or anxiety attack, but similar emotional state to both)

Part 2 | Part 3 | My masterlist

~ ~ ~

“Dear Hero,”

-the back of the invite read, in beautiful calligraphy; Not a smudge or hint of a trembling hand in sight.

Hero held the paper tighter, not quite sure what it was about it that made their heart flutter and their lips to curl upwards.

“I am delighted to know that you are attending the event. However, it is better to get in with an invitation.”

Hero had trailed their fingers over the letters too many times, even found themself doing it right at this moment. They had frowned the first time they’d read it, but now it brought them an odd sense of excitement.

“With growing fascination,

a potential friend.”

Perhaps attending it wouldn’t do them any harm. They did plan on snatching the artifacts the villains had stolen, anyway, so this way they wouldn’t even have to sneak in.

Besides, they should find out which one of their teammates (or even co-workers?) had left this on their doorstep, shouldn’t they?

Out of sheer curiosity only, their thoughts had lied. Nothing will go wrong, it is just a gift and an invite.

But of course it did, as always it all crashed and burnt, but Hero hadn’t thought it could ever go thisbadly.

“Stop trying to help,” they finally snapped.

But all Supervillain did was beam at them. “But then,” they purred, “what kind of potential friend would I be?~”

There was simply no rock big enough to hide under.

Hero stiffened. Their feet faltered, already weary of the dance they didn’t know but struck completely dumb by Supervillain’s implication. Supervillain tightened their grip around Hero’s hand as their words registered in the shocked mind of the city’s golden savior. Limply, Hero let the master criminal lead them through the steady movements, seemingly undeterred by their sudden stillness and sputtering. “You — what did you just say?”

“I said,” Supervillain started slowly, eyes scanning the crowd of party guests over Hero’s shoulder as they yanked them closer by the waist, ��‘what kind of potential friend would I be?~’”

Hero’s veins seemed to strain from how tightly they’d coiled at the non-threatening forcefulness in Supervillain’s voice. This wasn’t at all what they’d expected of the master criminal. And they certainly hadn’t expected them to be the author of the mysterious invitation they’d received for this party. Vigilante, maybe. Teammate, most likely what with all their connections from having grown up in a mafia family. But Supervillain?

They should’ve known. The stationery they’d used was simply too nice to belong to anyone Hero knew and trusted. They should’ve known this invitation was a trap.

“And where,” Hero said through gritted teeth as they tried to regain their bearings, “did you hear that?”

“I wrote it,” Supervillain grinned. “Didn’t you recognize my handiwork?”

Hero swallowed. “So? You’ve caught me, now what?”

Supervillain’s expression fell. Their darkened eyes met Hero’s for the first time since they’d pulled them into this dance. Frowning, Supervillain said, “I haven’t caught you. I’ve saved you from doing something incredibly stupid.”

“Yeah, right,” Hero scoffed. Their breath caught in their throat as Supervillain spun them out and pulled them back in again, this time with their back pressed to their chest.

Supervillain’s breath tickled the delicate skin of Hero’s ear as they leaned over their shoulder. “Politician is Other Supervillain.”

The master criminal’s words were still sinking in as Hero found themselves being spun out and back in again. Wide eyed, they slowly forced themselves to meet the intense gaze of the master criminal still leading them through the agonizingly slow dance.

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65 notes - Posted March 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Visitation Rights

A/N: I saw this prompt and my mind instantly… well you’ll see😆Anyway, thank you to @nuttynutcycle for this prompt — this probably went in an entirely different direction than any one of us thought it would (if y’all are looking for something amazing and kinda dark for the same prompt, check out @yourheartonfire's prompt fill), but that's why I love writing prompts - you never know what you'll get!

Prompt is in blue font! | Warnings: minor violence, (verbal) fighting, Villain’s heart melting/wholesome fluff, language, about 2.5k words…. I didn’t mean for it to be this long….

My masterlist

Villain straightened and took a half step back to admire his work. The sunlight glistened over the lake outside, his own little slice of paradise, and warmly streamed in through the unobstructed window, pooling right on the fluffy white cushion. It was utterly perfect.

Crouching down he packed up his tools, sliding the drill bit back into its place amongst the others in the hard case. Pencil, measuring tape, level, and —

Villain reeled back, jumping to his feet. Adrenaline coursed through his blood as his eyes landed on the source of movement he’d scene in his peripheral vision. Spotting the jet-black cat circling around the top of the newly mounted window seat, Villain’s muscles loosened.

Tsking, Villain wagged his finger at the unblinking creature. “Vengeance, what have I told you about sneaking up on me like that?”

Purring slightly, the cat answered with a wide-eyed, affectionate tilt of her head, pausing in her ritual of settling into her seat as Villain had previously seen her do. Who knew he’d be a cat person? Who knew that ruthless, destructive, utterly evil Villain would take pity on a sopping wet cat with fear in her eyes, roaming the city streets just miles away from here?

Certainly not Villain.

Sighing, Villain gestured to the window seat, though more specifically the view outside the window as Vengeance turned her back to the room and laid down in the patch of sunlight streaming in through the window. Villain’s heart melted at the sight.

So small. So precious.

It was utterly devious — not to mention embarrassing — how such a tiny creature had managed to waltz her way right into his heart. And it’d only been a few hours! Not days, not weeks, but hours! And already he’d been convinced to install a permanent fixture in the middle of his picturesque living room all for one little black cat with a sob story.

Pathetic.

There was no other word for what had happened to him and his villainous integrity in the last few hours once he’d managed to get the poor thing washed and dried…

And then he’d had to bandage himself up. Big cats might like water, other cats might like water, but this cat certainly did not.

But once Vengeance was dry and had began to calm down…

She’d started to mewl. And then she’d started to weave between his legs, pawing at his ankles as she looked up at him, staring straight into his soul.

And that’s how he’d sent six henchmen out to find cat treats and toys and this window seat before dismissing everyone for the day and retreating to his lake house for… well he didn’t have to figure everything out this afternoon. He could make adjustments to his schedule to accommodate Ven as soon as he knew how much work a cat could be.

Leaving his tools to be put away later, he bent over so his face was level with Ven’s and scratched behind her ears as they watched out the window together. She immediately began purring and leaning into the touch, and Villain swore, nothing could ever make him happier. People, even other animals, tended to flinch away from him. Though he supposed the mask and cape and his reputation did that. Even his own henchmen, people he’d known for years, had grown weary and antsy around him. But Vengeance didn’t seem to mind him one bit.

Still, it didn’t stop the scratch marks she’d given him while trying to clean her up sting any less.

“Isn't it beautiful?” The villain gestured to the view below. “Your own window. See, when you're good you get treats.”

Not that he’d actually denied her a treat when the henchmen had come back to their warehouse lair loaded down with bags from the pet store. It was the only way she’d get in the cat carrier.

The cat only purred louder, resting her head against the cushion and turning onto her back, exposing her stomach. The ultimate symbol of trust.

“I think we’ll get along just fine, don’t you, Ven?” Villain smiled, indulging her.

They both flinched, coming into full alertness when the door bell rang throughout the entry way and down into the sunken living room. Villain stood and glanced at the cat, asking if she knew who it might be. Vengeance didn’t provide an answer.

Cautiously, he made his way to the door. Staring through the frosted glass, he could only make out the figure of a woman with wild hair and an average stature.

So much for the remote location and lack of neighbors.

The bell rang again.

Pursing his lips, Villain reached for the doorknob, summoning his power to easily infiltrate the intruder’s mind and wipe the memory of this place — and him — from their mind, all before they could get a word out.

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89 notes - Posted February 24, 2022

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