March Writing Challenge - Tumblr Posts

“Wait—you’re the bridge troll?”

The little girl fiddled with the ends of her dress, lace curling over her fingers. Her hair fell in perfect ringlets, tied with a pretty bow. The darkness turned her hair to the deepest of blacks.

She smiled, all innocence.

“Yes. I could be something more scary, if that would help?”

Seraphina blinked.

“What?”

The smile took on an edge sharper than blades. Seraphina was afraid she might reveal a second row of teeth—she hated fae, especially the ones with too many teeth to count.

“I can be anything,” the little girl stated simply, and then she rose, twisting, bones cracking, until a cloud of darkness encompassed the bridge. When she spoke again, her voice echoed with the promise of pain and the sound of thousands pleading for help. “Is this form better?”

Seraphina choked on her own tongue, spine twinging as she grabbed for her dagger.

“No, no it was fine—“

“Or maybe,” came a voice she had long since laid to rest, “you’d prefer this?”

And then the bridge troll was wearing the face of her dead lover. Seraphina forgot to breathe for a moment, caught on the edge of tears. It was a blister that hurt, it was sticking your hand into the fire, it was breaking all your ribs. Seeing that face—even if the expression was all wrong, like spelling someone’s name with a different letter—hurt.

If Seraphina couldn’t feel her own breathing, she’d assume she was dead.

“Take off their face,” she said after a long moment, and the bridge troll obliged.

“Better?” The little girl said, and Seraphina nodded mutely. “Now, for prices. Most people give up one of their favorite memories, or maybe the voice of a loved one—“

“How much,” Seraphina began, clearing her throat. She eyes the coursing river below. “How much would all of the memories of a loved one be worth.”

The little girl paused, mouth open.

“I’m sorry?”

“How much would it be worth. How many passages across the bridge would all of my memories about someone be worth.”

The little girl blinked, then drew herself up, as if she had surprised even herself in her lack of calm.

“It would pay off years worth of passages.”

Seraphina nodded.

Below, the river thrummed with empty promises.

She had loved them, and they had died. They were supposed to both make it out. And now, here Seraphina was, alone but for a bridge toll, on a bridge in the middle of nowhere.

Well. Not nowhere. She was in that place her lover had always wanted to go.

She figured maybe if she went, her lover would feel it, wherever their soul was.

Now, though, her love simply felt like an arrow between her ribs.

“I’ll pay it.”

The little girl paused again.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. Take it. Pay off as much as you can so nobody who passes through needs to worry.”

The little girl fell silent. If she had any emotions, Seraphina hoped she would understand the enormity of the sacrifice.

Really, though, it was just a selfish need for the pain to stop.

“Alright,” the little girl said. “Give me your hand.”

Seraphina obliged. Her hand was warm in a way she hadn’t expected, and soft.

“Whose face are you wearing?” Seraphina whispered.

“Whose soul are you releasing,” the girl said back.

Seraphina looked once more at the river.

“The love of my life.”

As soon as she said it, as soon as she thought of his face, it was snatched from her mind.

No pain.

Just a neatly cut hole where something should be.

In front of her, a little girl held her hand.

She frowned, puzzled. She rubbed her eyes.

“What are you—“ when she opened them, she blinked again. The most handsome man she had ever seen was holding her hand, smiling roguishly.

“You took a bit of a fall. Are you feeling okay?” His voice sounded like home, and his face looked like it, like warm summer breezes and laughter at the hearth. For a second, something throbbed in side of her, a quiet I remember, before it whisped away.

“Yeah,” she said when she realized she had simply been staring at his face. “Yeah, sorry, i’m fine.”

His smile broadened.

“My name is Edrian, by the way.”

She blinked once more.

“Seraphina.”

The edges of his smile softened.

‘Seraphina’ he mouthed, as if testing it out.

“Can I buy you something to eat?”

Her hand was still in his. For some reason, she didn’t want to let go.

She studied his face, and was filled with such love, such longing, that she almost choked.

She felt like she had loved him for years.

“Sure.”

Edrian squeezed her hand, gently, then murmured her name once more, tugging her gently into town.

Behind them, the bridge was abandoned, and tucked between their clasped hands and traded memories, stolen love bloomed.

“Do you really think that she would want this? Lu—“

The villain cut them off with a sharp hand to their chest.

They heaved a breathe, eyes gleaming and shoulders just on the edge of shaking.

“Don’t say her name. You don’t get to say her name.”

The hero’s mouth went dry.

“She was my sister too, you know,” they said quietly.

It was the wrong thing to say.

The villain grabbed the front of their jacket and hauled them against the wall, gritting their teeth as angry tears flushed their eyes.

“And yet you killed her anyways.”

The hero spluttered.

“I would never have hurt her, you know that—“

“You let her die.”

The hero fell silent.

The villain dropped them as if they could no longer bear to touch the hero, could no longer bear to touch their youngest sibling.

“You drew her into all your chosen one bullshit, and then when she needed you, you weren’t there.”

Anger, hot and heavy like a summers day,

sprung to life in the hero’s gut.

The villain regarded them, then shook their head in disgust. “Selfish.”

“I was taking care of your henchman,” the hero spat, and the villain stopped dead.

It took them three tries, in all their elegance and poise, to get the word out.

“What.”

The hero took a shuddering step, hand outreached, so angry and so lonely.

“I was taking care of the henchman you set loose in the lower quadrant. She said she could handle it—I thought it was you. I thought she would find you at the other end of the SOS call, and you would be gentle.”

The villain’s face went oh so pale.

“You thought—“

“I thought it was you,” the hero confirmed, voice shaking. “If I had known it was Nightshade—if I had known, I never would have let her go.”

The villain opened their mouth, but had nothing to say. Car alarms blared in the distance.

The villain gestured with their head.

“Aren’t you supposed to get that.”

The hero shrugged.

“Yeah.”

Neither of them moved.

“We ruined this family, didn’t we?” The villain looked like they were trying very hard not to cry. “Always trying to one up each other, always trying to be the prettiest star. Burned so bright we burned everyone around us.”

“Until there was no one left to burn for,” the hero said softly.

Somehow, they had sunk onto the ground of the damp alley.

The hero wasn’t sure who reached first, but then they were tangled in each others arms, sobbing violently, snot dripping onto each others shirts.

“I’m sorry,” the hero retched. “I didn’t mean it.”

The villain loosed a shuddering breath.

“It’s okay. We’re okay.”

The hero only clutched them tighter, because this was their family, the last of their bloodline besides themself.

The villain pressed an apology into their back with trembling hands.

I’m sorry, they murmured together, until it was no longer two words but something akin to a keen.

Lucy, I’m sorry.

When their tears had dried along with the pavement, and the emergency vehicles had once more begun to sing, they had stood there awkwardly, for one moment, as if memorizing each others faces, before they hurtled into the city, opposite directions.

They never spoke of it again.

But the villain stopped trying to kill them.

So there was that.

“You’d be nothing without me,” she snapped. Hailey stopped in the middle of slicking on her trademark red lipstick.

In the mirror, she raised one prom, perfect, brow.

“I’m sorry, have I not been giving you enough attention?” Her tone dripped with condescension.

“I’m not a dog,” Leah said, and Hailey pursed her lips.

“Then don’t act like one.”

Leah scoffed.

“For someone loved by millions, you certainly are hard to be around.”

Hailey stood, pulling herself to a stop in front of Leah. She hooked two fingers into Leah’s waistband, and tugged her flush against her front.

Leah’s face went red.

“Oh, darling, I know. They love me because I sing about being hopelessly in love. And who writes those songs.”

“I do,” Leah said, indignation warm in her chest.

Hailey hummed.

“Mmm. And who are you in love with? I certainly haven’t seen anyone holding your hand. No, your life revolves around me,” she grinned, teasingly. “Like a planet to a star.”

Leah spluttered, face going even warmer.

“I am not in love with you—“

Hailey tipped her head so their lips almost brushed, and Leah froze, chest caught between a breath.

Hailey smiled, and Leah swore she felt it against her mouth.

“Thought so.” Hailey stepped away, slinging her jacket off the back of a chair and onto her shoulder. She strode for the door, and stopped halfway across the room.

“Oh, and love? Write me another love song, and next time, maybe I’ll bring you out onstage. Introduce you as my pretty little girlfriend, my wonderful mastermind.”

Leah choked.

“I am not your girlfriend—“

Hailey simply smiled that red lipstick smile, and sauntered out the door into the middle of her screaming fans.

Leah touched her still hot cheek with one finger, absently.

Girlfriend.

She smiled, slightly.

She kind of liked it.

“I just—I don’t think I love you anymore.”

It hurt—like a thousand suns burning in his core, a million white lies, a rockslide in his gut.

He swallowed, and tears threatened to spring to his eyes.

“What do you mean, you don’t love me. I made myself for you. Is the witty humor not enough anymore? The undying devotion? The kindness, all of it, I did it for you.”

Lila bit her lip.

“I’m sorry.”

“Tell me, did I not change quick enough, or did you change too fast?”

His voice was bitter, a winters cold bite, even to his own ears.

“Matt—“

“It’s Matthew.”

Lila paused.

His scoffed, angrily.

“You don’t love me anymore. I became Matt for you—I created myself around you, built myself upon you. I became the picture you painted in your mind. You can’t say you don’t want it and have it the same.”

A flush rose to her cheeks.

“You’re being ridiculous—“

“You stopped loving me!” He shouted, and after a moment, softer, “how could you not love me?”

A tear slipped down Lila’s cheek.

“You’re perfect. I just—I’m sorry. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t enough. How could it ever be enough? He had taken classes to be with her because she didn’t like to be alone, had started the track to become a vet because she loved animals and wanted to work with the love of her life, hd cut his hair, and changed his posture, had gotten superpowers, had been sexy and cute and smart and kind and wholesome and dorky and funny and yet—

He was perfect. And still, she had stopped loving him.

Somewhere between Matt—Matthew—he had remade himself in the negative space around her, and somehow, as he changed himself, she had changed too.

“I still love you,” he offered weakly, and she turned her head, as if slapped. “I could change—“

“Stop.”

A tear dropped off the end of his chin.

“I’d do it well—“

“Matthew.”

His name, a plea. No more Matt.

Lila had killed him.

Lila sniffed, as if steeling herself, then drew herself up.

She looked him directly in the eye.

“You need to stop changing for others.”

“You liked it when I changed for you,” he murmured, voice raw.

She swallowed.

“That was different.”

“How, Lila. Different because it was you? Because me changing was romantic, not sad, when it was you? God.”

“Matthew—“

“You didn’t love me for me,” he threw an arm out. “You don’t love Matt, and you don’t love whoever I am now.”

Lila closed her eyes.

“I said I was sorry—“

“I became a new person for you, and you relished it, and now you’re sorry?”

She pursed her lips.

“It’s not like that.”

“You know it is.”

And whatever was left of his heart broke.

A match lit itself inside his chest.

Lila opened her mouth, and he cut her off.

“No. Just—stop. Stop apologizing when you aren’t sorry. I am going to go out, and I am going to find someone who loves me, not for Matt, not for Matthew, but for me. And when I do, I am going to love them harder than I have ever loved anyone else. Even you.”

Lila looked like she didn’t know what to say, as if she had expected the collapse but hadn’t expected him to bare his teeth.

“Go.”

When she left, she slammed the door behind her.

Eight months later, he met a girl named Kaylie in a coffee shop.

They ruled the world, together, five years later.

“We’re going to die,” the hero murmured, and the villain slammed their hand onto their mouth.

“If you keep talking, yes.”

The hero glared at them out of the side of their eye, and hissed against their palm.

“Let go of me—“

The super villain laughed, and it echoed through the warehouse; a place they had turned into a sprawling labyrinth of death traps and riddles.

“Little birds,” they sang, and in that moment, the hero hated their chosen profession.

Behind their back, the villain fiddled with the lock to the door.

Their other hand remained firmly fixed upon the hero’s mouth.

The super villain began to hum.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…”

The villain began to move faster.

“Please,” the hero mouthed against the villains palm, sweat and desperation coating them. There was blood cooling on their abdomen.

The villain simply clutched their face tighter.

The super villain turned the corner, gun propped on their shoulder, and smiled.

“Found you.”

The lock clicked, the door swung open, and together, they tumbled into freedom.

Two hours later, the hero was swaddled in a fluffy blanket on the villains couch. There were so many safe guards on the villains house that they should have felt trapped. The hero just felt safe.

The villain carefully taped a piece of cloth over their wound, a pristine white bandage covering a neat row of stitches, put there by the villain.

“Thank you,” the hero’s mouth was dry. “For. You know.”

The villain looked up at them, and by god, if they didn’t look like a fallen Angel.

They smiled.

“I couldn’t let you die, now could I,” they said. They tipped the hero’s chin up, and when they spoke next, it was a whisper over their lips. “I’d miss you.”

The hero shivered, and the villain’s smile curled wider.

A moment later, the settled onto the couch beside the hero. The hero stiffened.

“Oh, come now.”

The villains arm fell, lightly, around their shoulders, and then they were pulled, blanket and all, onto the villain’s shoulder.

“You—“

“Hush, hero. That’s the blood loss talking.”

The hero did not nuzzle further into the villain’s chest, and the villain did not tuck them closer.

Absolutely not.

The news report flicked on, and they watched it idly, together.

“We’ll kill them together, yes?” The hero said, voice small.

The villain hummed, then laughed, voice tinged with something dangerous.

If the hero had looked up, they would have seen something akin to murderous. The villain tucked a careful hand over the wound, as if to make sure it was safe, and protected, and no longer bleeding out.

The hero did not look up.

“Yes, hero. We’ll kill them together.”

But for now, they stayed there, huddled together, warm and safe and dry.

And if the hero didn’t leave, even after they had killed the supervillain? If the hero moved in, took up a place on the villain’s bed?

Then that wouldn’t be anyone’s business.

(The villain delighted in it, though.)

(The hero was just happy to no longer be alone.)

(The hero learned the Villain knew a startling amount about the human body, their body, and was especially adept at causing pleasure—)

(The villain delighted in that, too.)

“Hey,” the hero panted. “At least I’ll make a pretty dead body?”

The villain hissed at them beneath their breath.

“I don’t want this. You know that, right?”

The hero stilled. The chanting of the crowd grew louder.

“I know.”

The villain looked down over the edge of the stage, eyes cold and calculating as ever.

Their eyes caught on something.

When they turned to the hero, they smiled.

“Hold your breath.”

The square erupted in smoke, and everything was lost to the blur of unconsciousness.

“You’re an idiot.”

The hero blinked, half asleep.

“What?”

The villain made a low noise of irritation, and behind them, someone laughed.

“I told you not to breathe.”

The hero half smiled, vision blurry.

“Next time, say something sooner.”

“God, why did I save you—“

The hero shifted to laugh, and felt bandages wrapping around their wrists. They frowned, pulling it up to their face.

The villain watched them, carefully.

“Bandages?”

The villain nodded.

“You were bleeding.”

“I don’t remember—“

“Suppressants affect the ability to feel pain. A mercy, if you were to be executed, but a curse if you get wounded.”

The hero made to unwrap one, see the damage, and the villains cool fingers closed around their wrist.

“Stop it.”

“You didn’t tell me they were reckless,” the same laughing voice as before said, and the hero snapped their gaze to them.

They grinned.

“Hello, there.”

The hero’s power sputtered to life, as if pushing past the final dregs of the suppressors, and slammed out into the room, exploring every nook and cranny. It slid along the skin of the newcomer, testing, as if figuring out what power they held.

A moment later, the hero gagged, retching.

The villain simply watched them, unconcerned, hand still on their wrist, but the newcomer frowned.

“Are you—“

“I hate fire wielders,” the hero gasped, covering their mouth. “You taste like smoke and feel like suffocation.”

The newcomer stilled, and their power told them with no shortage of glee that their name was Alex, and it the hero wanted the flames wreathed within their skin, they could have them.

Alex glanced to the villain. “How did they…”

The villain examined the hero’s hand, before pressing a nail into their skin.

The hero’s power practically purred, sliding back into their skin. When the villain smiled, it was feral.

“Their power is a loathsome little thing. Just too far on this side of sentient. A curious thief and magic rolled into one.”

The hero made to yank their hand away, and their power protested.

The hero left their wrist in the villains grasp.

Alex’s eyebrows pinched. “So why aren’t you affecting them?”

The villain’s smile, if anything, grew sharper.

“Could be the gas, from when we saved their life,” With their free hand, the tipped the hero’s chin up to examine their eyes. “Or, could be that they like me, and their power likes me too.”

The hero flushed.

“It does not—“

The villain swiped a finger on their forearm, and the hero’s power glowed at the contact.

They didn’t even realize they’d copied the villain’s powers until they tasted the stardust and wind that came with telepathy and teleportation.

Right. Suppressors.

If the hero hadn’t been so hopped up on suppressors earlier, teleportation would have gotten them out much easier than gas. From the look on the villain’s face, they knew that too.

People had learned the hard way not to teleport those who have been suppressed. Magic didn’t like it.

The villain snorted.

“You’re an asshole,” the hero bit out, and their power curled around their newfound toy like a baby dragon, hoarding it in their chest. Alex’s thoughts were unimaginably load.

“God, how can you be around anyone, ever?”

The villain cocked their head. It wasn’t the first time the hero had asked that question.

Behind them, Alex left. Blessedly, it got quiet.

“Practice,” the villain admitted. “A lot of it.”

The hero wanted to shove the telepathy out of them, but their power simply held on tighter.

“It won’t let go.”

“Mm. Quite the noxious creature.”

“I’m the one living with it.”

The villain hummed, hand tracing along the edges of the bandages.

“I would never have let you die.”

The hero simply thought, I know.

The villain smiled.

I love you, the villain’s eyes bore into them, thought flung across the void between their brain and the hero’s.

The hero took their hand. The villain let them. “I know.”

In their chest, their power finally, finally settled, as if it had been waiting for this all along.

“What would you give,” the villain drawled. “To save the world?”

The hero swallowed. Their arms hurt in the binding, pressed too tight against their skin.

“Everything.”

The villain tipped their head.

“Mmm. Lovely. But I have everything. Try again.”

The hero did know, they didn’t know what the villain wanted and the world was going to burn and people were going to die and it hurt—

“Whatever you want,” the hero blurted. “Take it.”

The villain smiled.

“You panic so pretty, darling.” The villain crouched down in front of them. They tipped the hero’s chin up with one elegant finger. “What I want,” they said slowly, like a secret. “Is you.”

“I—“

“You think yourself worth the world, then? I release you, and the world burns so you can stay free and live the rest of your meaningless life. After all, what’s a hero without anyone to save?”

The blood drained from the hero’s face. Their powers lay aching, stolen in their chest.

“No,” they said, and they weren’t sure if it was a plea or a command.

The villain stood.

“You or the world, hero. I’d take either, given the chance,” their eyes burned into the hero’s. “Choose.”

A tear, one, traitorous tear, slid down the grime on the hero’s cheek.

“Me,” they whispered.

Something dark simmered in the villain’s gaze.

“Look at you. Such a good hero, saving the world,” they cooed. They motioned a guard to haul the hero to their feet. “I’m going to have so much fun watching you break.”

The hero never saw the outside world again.

They just hoped it was safe.