Who’s your literary Valentine? Here are some of ours:
Basically, I think you’re perfect. You’re handsome and charming, and just this side of legal (I think). I really dig the way you can paint yourself to look like dirt, and wouldn’t mind getting dirty with you (No pun intended). I, too, enjoy cuddling and blonde curls. Like me, you enjoy baking, so we already have something in common. If you want, maybe sometime we could get together for dinner? Check yes or no:
Dear Han Solo,
I realize you’re not a book character, but you’ve been in spin-off books and loads of fanfiction. More importantly, you’re the ONLY Valentine I want. Period. ❤ ❤
So, even though I think Leia is kick-butt awesome, it’s about time you ditched Her Worshipfulness and hooked up with me.
For one, I’m not a princess! You’ll never have to call me obnoxious title names. For two, I will never complain about the Millennium Falcon–I can appreciate vintage ships, my love. For three, there’s a bounty on my head too (I cheated a Jawa back on Tatooine; turns out they don’t like that), so we can evade the law, hand-in-hand!
And finally, the real deal-sealer (if you ask me): I can rock that metal bikini just as hard as Leia, if not better (but you’ll have to accept this invitation if you want to see for yourself ::wink, wink::).
Love you forever, Han baby. Holograph me when you get a chance.
If I had been your Cathy, I would never have left you.
If I had been your Cathy, your heart would have never been broken.
I wouldn’t have settled for Edgar Linton out of vanity, when I knew that you were my soul mate.
If only I had been your Cathy, you wouldn’t be remembered today as an abusive brute.
You’d be known as the hero with the rebellious heart who sought his fortune with the woman he loved by his side.
But who knows?
Maybe your heart got a second chance?
Maybe a bit of your wildness was reborn in the man I love today?
And maybe a part of Cathy lives on in me – her impetuousness, her ambition, her passion.
So Happy Valentine’s Day, Heathcliff. And Happy Valentine’s Day to my real-life husband, Gary.
I will always see a bit of each of you in the other.
I don’t care what canon says about you. You are not pointy-faced. You are a hunky Slytherin sex god with brains and snark. And though some might say you’re cowardly and two-faced, to that I reply with LALALALALALALALALALALALALALALA.
Dear Ender Wiggins,
No, this is not a true valentine because Hello, you’re like nine years old by the end of the book and with the age difference, that’s just really icky. Plus, by the end of the book, you’ve SPOILER, SPOILER, and SPOILER…so I kinda don’t think you would make the best dinner date, anyway.
But if I could, I’d whisk you away somewhere in the middle of the book, just when everything’s going to hell and your life, if I can be honest, really, really sucks. Maybe if someone had taken you out of Battle School and sent you somewhere nice with a chocolate fountain and some singing valentines, SPOILER wouldn’t have happened at the end.
Which, considering the sequels, would probably have saved the world a whole lot of grief.
Love and Chocolate,
Is it okay to write Valentines to your own characters? I worked with you for so long in fan fiction I feel like you’re my own creation. And, of course, you were the inspiration behind my male MC, so I’ve essentially been talking with you for… 8 years now. Don’t you think it’s about time we put aside these pretensions and explore this thing between us?
I know you’re still in mourning for your one true love, and you’re probably worried about how this would affect our working relationship, but seriously, who else is going to be okay with having a bird for a boyfriend? Let’s go out for a rodent sometime. I’m an adventurous eater 😉
Please be my Valentine?
Love forever. And ever.
My darling George Cooper,
How do I begin? You’re tall, dark, and (if you ask me) roguishly handsome. In fact, you’re the most charming Rogue I know. You stole my heart long before you even realized that a certain cross-dressing girl had stolen yours – which, for the record, was a feeling that she didn’t reciprocate for a LONG time. I would never make you wait 8 years to get a piece of this. I would never take pansy Jonathon or big-guy Liam Ironarm as lovers, either – your finely tuned body is all I need. I wouldn’t have been too afraid to offer myself to you completely.
Believe me, I would have fallen into those strong arms of yours, instead of choosing Jonathan the “Prince”.
You may be considered a “commoner”, but in my eyes, you’re the only Prince there is.
I’ll be keeping my window open for you. Feel free to climb in anytime.
Dear Mr. Darcy,
I’d like a tour of Pemberly’s grounds, if you know what I mean. Call me. No, seriously, call me.
Dear Mr. Tilney,
I’d love to go for a drive in your curricle, wink wink. Call on me whenever you’re free. ❤
Dear Commander Vimes,
You’re a grumpy old man and that’s awesome.
Hearts and cigars
Let’s be honest: we all know you’re the hottest victor to ever grace the arena. And the most badass. You could skewer me with that giant trident of yours any day. But I think you already know all of that. And that’s part of why I love you.
I’ll admit, there were others before you–Gale (I got over that SO fast, don’t worry), Peeta (can you blame me?)…but from the second I learned the truth about your horrible past, I’ve been totally and completely yours. Let’s ignore what happens at the end of MOCKINGJAY, okay? Because we know that’s just a mistake that can ultimately be blamed on your psycho wife, Annie.
Speaking of Annie…WHY? Seriously. WHY? You could do so much better. Like…me. Yeah, we’d pretty much be perfect together.
So, when you want someone to come rub oil on your sexy, rippling muscles, give me a call. I left my number on your nightstand. And carved it into the headboard of your bed. Just in case.
Yours forever and ever,
P.S. Please don’t take any trips to the sewers of the Capitol. Like, ever.
You’re kind of perfectly cheeky, smart and nice. Anne is great and all, but I would never crack a slate over your head. Even if you did call me carrots, which would frankly be pretty strange considering my hair’s black – but I’m more than willing to put up with this strangeness. And, you know, my hair could be red, if that’s your thing. Hair dye rocks, baby, and unlike Anne I’m competent enough to not dye mine green.
See you in Avonlea?
Who is your literary valentine?