Gremlin Who Writes Stories

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[thee-ghosty]

Ghosty's Masterlist

Note: Anything of warning will be stated in red for your knowledge, but swearing and blood is in most of my work (just a heads up) Divider by @kgymz

Hero x Villain

Snippet #1

Snippet #2

Snippet #3

Snippet #4 Suggestive

Snippet #5

Snippet #6

Snippet #7

Snippet #9 9.1

Snippet #10

Snippet #11

Civilian X Villain

Snippet #8 8.1 8.2 Graphic depictions of violence

Prompts:

Prompt #1

Prompt #2

Prompt #3

Prompt #4

Based off Prompts:

"How do you want to die?" Pt.2

Playing Chess with Death

"You've Never Been on a Date?"

Miscellaneous:

Log series: 1.0 1.2

The Traveler Series:

Part I: The Creature

Part II: The Trap Door

[ibajo256]

[thee-ghosty]

Why is this me with everything I write 😭

[the-modern-typewriter]

love your hero villain dynamics , can you write something where the hero is scared of the dark and the villain takes advantage of it while mocking them

"Scared?"

"No." The hero's voice cracked. The sound was far too loud, too obvious, in the devouring dark. They pivoted on the spot, squinting, as if that would do them or their hammering heart any good at all.

There was nothing. It did nothing. Of course there wasn't.

They jumped at the touch of a - hand? tendril among the living night? Feather-light, grazing along their throat. Gone when they whirled.

The hero bit back a whimper.

"Your pulse is racing," the villain murmured.

In the fog of the hero's panic, their voice seemed to come from everywhere, and nowhere. As elusive to snatch as the shadows themselves.

"Only because you're annoying!"

The villain laughed. Soft, mocking.

The villain's powers gave them absolute control of the dark, turned it into something physical and concrete, the ever-twisting manifestation of a childhood nightmare. In the light, the villain was a prettier thing.

Light. The hero fumbled for their own powers, but their fingers shook too hard. The dim candlelight they managed to summon to their fingertips felt like it barely penetrated the crowding gloom.

The panic rose in the hero's throat, bubbled over.

In an instant, the darkness pounced. It cradled them softly, wrapped them up in an unbreakable hold, sliding around their wrists, their ankles, like silk upon their eyes. It poured into their mouth until they gagged on it. Tasting of promise, and threat, and nothing at all.

"You look good scared," the villain said. That time, the hero felt a definite touch, the press of them against the hero's back. Lips against their ear. "Especially when you're scared for me."

"It's not for you."

"Isn't it?" the villain asked. Their hand trailed down along the line of the hero's throat once more, along their side. The hero's breath hitched. "Is it not mine?"

The hero closed their eyes, for a moment, because was it a fraction more bearable than staring out into nothingness.

"You don't know what I look like. It's dark."

"You think I can't see in the dark? You think I can't see you?"

"I think this is a cheap trick," the hero snapped. "And you wouldn't dare face me in the sunlight."

"Of course not," the villain said. "I'm not stupid enough to challenge you on home territory. How's it going for you?"

The hero had been determined when they headed out into the night; to face their fears, prove them worthless, to defeat the villain once and for all.

It had, clearly, been a wild miscalculation.

The hero swallowed. They searched for something clever to say and came up empty.

The villain laughed that soft laugh again and placed a kiss just above the hero's damning pulse.

"Don't worry," the villain said. "I'll be merciful."

"I didn't know that was a word in your vocabulary."

"I'll let you go if you answer just one question for me."

The hero turned their head, desperate to see the villain's face, though they couldn't. Their lips brushed the villain's at the motion, though. They both stilled. The villain's breath was warm, human. Maybe that revealed something even their expression couldn't betray. Neither of them recoiled. The villain's free hand rose, grazing along the hero's jaw, their hair.

"What's the question?" the hero asked.

"Is it worse to be in my hands, in the darkness, or to be alone in it?"

The hero faltered. They imagined themselves stumbling through the villain's night, lost and blind, trying to conjure enough light to find some way out of the maze of it all. They shivered. Pressed themselves a little closer to the villain, to their more personal darkness, before they could stop themselves.

The villain hummed. The silence stretched, its own kind of answer.

"I am the worst thing you will ever find in the dark," the villain said. "Let the other monsters scuttle back to the light, where they foolishly think it's safe, and you are waiting for them."

"I - I'm not -"

"Aren't you?"

But the hero was. They'd taken pride in it. The things that scuttled from the dark feared them far more than ever feared the dark itself.

"There is a solace in shadow," the villain said. "Away from prying eyes, and pretence. Is that was frightens you so, then? Knowing exactly what you are in the dark when nobody is watching?"

"You're watching."

"And you're not letting go."

No. The hero wasn't. They were barely even struggling, hadn't thought to try for another light in a while.

"You're scared," the villain said. "But don't worry." They captured the hero's mouth, sweet and aching and hunger-filled. "I don't kiss and tell."

In the breathless aftermath, the hero finally summoned a light. Gentle. Exposing them both. The darkness around them melted away, leaving them uncaged, uncradled. Strangely bereft.

The hero caught a glimpse of the villain's face - not so mocking, raw - and then they stepped back into the darkness and were gone.

The hero was alone, in the light beneath a streetlamp, where they were safe.

And if part of them missed the villain, wondered about that kiss -

Well. They touched a finger to their lip, still tingling, a terrifying and tantalising thing. They were safe.

But they couldn't help but feel differently about the dark after that.

[theaftersundown]

*writes two paragraphs after months of literally nothing and it took three hours*

[thee-ghosty]

Snippet #11

Despite everything the hero did to open their eyes, the world remained in darkness. They almost convinced themselves that they were still sleeping in their bed despite knowing better. The ropes binding their hands and ankles to the chair they sat on, the cold air freezing their lungs, the complete silence; it was all familiar. 

The fabric covering their eyes was ripped away, forcing them to squint under the blinding light beaming down on their face. After taking a moment to adjust, the hero let out a steady breath. They knew the routine. The villain would appear from the shadows, they would banter, and then they would let the hero go. They peeled open their eyes and scanned the shadows before catching the glint of a dagger. It shifted in the air, twirling and twisting as the villain fiddled with it, waiting for their cue. 

“Long time no see, villain.” The hero started. Their voice scratched in their throat.

Silence. 

The hero cleared their throat. “You tied the ropes real tight this time. It actually kinda hurts if I’m honest.” They strained against the ropes, playing their part perfectly.

No response. 

The hero huffed. “You gotta say something.”

“Like what?” The villain asked coolly. “That I miss you? That I miss this little-” they waved the dagger in the air, “Charade?”

The hero’s brows furrowed. 

The villain scoffed. “Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

The villain slipped into the light, stalking towards the hero. “Do you expect me to act like everything’s normal now? After everything that’s happened?”

“What are you talking about?”

The villain stopped in front of the hero, arms folded in front of their chest. “You were gone. Radio silent for two months. No calls, no sightings, nothing. Then suddenly your death was everywhere on the news and everyone was in hysterics. But you are somehow magically alive, living in some random farmhouse on the edge of town.”

The villain was angry, that much was apparent. But the hero didn’t expect to see such sadness in the villain’s eyes. They were dark and cold, a complete contrast to that glint and spark the hero was used to. Of all the emotions the villain harbored toward the hero, they never looked at the hero this way before. 

Truth be told, the hero didn’t know exactly what the villain felt towards them. They never dictated and underlined their thoughts and feelings like the press did with everything else in the hero’s life. The dynamic was an enigma, and the hero wasted too many nights trying to define it. 

“What do you want from me, villain?”

“I want honesty. Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Villain-”

“You seemingly told everyone else you knew.”

The hero raised their eyebrows. “How could you- did you ask my friends and family what happened to me?”

They looked at the hero for a beat before averting their gaze. The hero’s eyes widened a fraction before closing them with a sigh. “Oh, villain.”

“I was desperate.” They mumbled.

“This is ridiculous!” “Yes, exactly! It’s ridiculous that after all this time, all the bullshit we’ve been through, that you’d just forget to tell me you’re faking your death.”

“I didn’t forget, I just-”

The villain looked at them again, eyes sharp. The hero could see the exhaustion in the villain’s face. The lines were deeper, the shadows darker. The hero would’ve done everything to fix it in the past.

“Villain,” The hero softened their voice, “If I’d known how much this would’ve affected you, I would’ve told you. I just…”

“Just what?”

The hero swallowed. I figured it would be better if you thought I died.”

The villain’s eyes were on the hero, but it was more like they were looking through the hero than at them. The villain flexed their free hand, gripped their dagger in the other, and the hero’s heart started to race. They tried at the ropes again, but they refused to budge. They were stuck. The villain’s eyes refocused. 

“You’re right. It would’ve been better.”

The villain lurched forward. The hero braced themselves, squeezing their eyes shut. 

A beat passed. 

A delicate kiss was placed on their cheek. The hero opened their eyes. The ropes were cut and the villain was gone. 

[thee-ghosty]

The Traveler Series -- Part II

The Trap Door

I wasn’t confident that time was passing as I journeyed. The land was too alive in the sun so I only traveled by night, as my father told me to do. But save for the moons that sat still at either side of the horizon, the black sky was barren. The desolate wasteland around me never changed, the mountains never moved closer no matter how far I walked. My only sense of change was my body slowly eroding away with each rising sun. That and the air getting colder.

I was never fond of the cold. I absolutely detested the season when the land turned white and froze over. I would damn that season each year, and as the snow fell upon my shoulders as I walked endlessly I damned it even more. My shoes were soaked. My coat was thin. I had little reserves in my pack. It was all falling apart.

At some point, days or weeks since I’d left the dark woods, I stopped. I couldn’t go further. I wasn’t sure where I was even headed anymore. Home? Where is home? I had been following the northern moon for the entirety of my journey so home must be near the southern moon. But as I looked at that pale face in the sky I felt resistance, like it was pushing me away. Away from where? Where on this forsaken land am I?

I forced my eyes shut and shook my head, a deep sigh passing through my lips. Wind rustled through me, my bones chattering in response. Everything was growing colder and colder. I was a pillar of ice out in the featureless wasteland. My wandering thoughts stilled.

I was on the edge of life when I heard snow crunch some paces in front of me. The frost forming over my eyes splintered and crumbled as I peeled them open once more. A blot of ink on the white landscape. That was all I saw. The blot grew in stature, approaching me with dragging steps and I should have feared it. It was a creature of the dark, wasn’t it? But I silently beckoned it closer and closer until all I could see was black.

“…I know it was …but it had to be done…”

“…Leave it out there? Alone? … I am no monster…”

“…Shh! It has risen.”

Warmth. Oppressive warmth. That was the first sense. And then parts of my body being weighed down, others lifted, like I was drifting on the surface of a disturbed lake. Something gripped my arms and legs, coiling around them before letting go. With much effort I opened my eyes, squinting at how bright the room was.

“It does see, after all. I knew I was right.”  A strained voice spoke. The sound made me flinch, squeezing my eyes shut as pain rocked in my head.

“Oh, fear not! I mean no harm to you.”

Each word felt like a hammer to my skull. “…S-stop.” I muttered. My throat was bone dry.

“You agitated it. You fool!” Another voice said distantly.

I strained against what held me down. “…Stop. Pl…please.”

“Release it! Release it now!”

Suddenly I was weightless and I gasped, cold air filling my lungs. I threw myself upright, eyes darting across the space I found myself in.

It was a plain room, not the endless wasteland or some tomb of fire I half expected to be in. A small fireplace was tucked in the corner and a table stood next to the bed I sat on. Relief flooded my body too early, for I hadn’t noticed the thing staring at me until I locked eyes with it.

“You’ve finally awakened, dear traveler. At last!” The raspy voice slipped through the smile-like chasm on its face. I couldn’t look away from those two piercing eyes.

It tilted its head, that strange resemblance of a smile still on its face. “You do not speak much, do you?”

“What are you?”

I cursed myself for even speaking to it, let alone asking such a question. Its already wide eyes grew, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of surprise or offense at my words.

“Emil.” It responded politely. “That is what I am called. What are you called?”

“Uh, right. My name is…” No noise left my lips when I thought it would. I finally dropped my gaze. My name. I have a name. Yes, of course I have a name. Everyone has a name. It’s… “I can’t remember it.”

Without skipping a beat, it replied, “Fret not. I will call you the Traveler.”

“Why can’t I remember it?”

“It happens to many of your kind, I’m sure.”

My eyes looked back up and Emil had shifted closer. It was then I noticed the tendrils flicking around its body, pulsating like a heart. “You know of my kind?”

“Oh, yes. You’re the first I have seen in a very long time though. Not many come here now after it all ended.”

“Is it only you here?” I ventured.

“Oh, no, I have plenty of friends. They are quite shy though, especially of newcomers. But I told them you did not have the bad sense about you.”

“Bad sense?”

“The dark.”

“Oh.”

We continued to stare at one another, though I suspect we had differing motivations. I didn’t want Emil any closer to me than it already was, but the longer I stared the more I felt I was losing myself somehow. As if Emil was taking parts of me simply by gazing upon me. I needed to escape, but how? There were no doors, no windows. I could’ve been on an entirely different realm and I wouldn’t know.

“Do you think I am of the dark, Traveler?” Emil asked.

I forced my mouth to move. “No.”

Emil’s smile widened. “You lie, Traveler.”

I darted my eyes away, hoping for something I could use to get out of this place of purgatory before snapping them back on Emil. He was closer. Almost to the edge of the bed.

“If you are not of the dark, then what are you?” My voice trembled as I spoke.

“I am of the world, dear Traveler. I was born from the dying underbelly of this realm, shaped and molded by the moons themselves.”

I spared a glance at the ceiling. Something metal glinted in the fire light. Handle of a trap door. The bed creaked. My eyes locked onto Emil. It sat across from me, its body hovering over my feet. Its mouth was open now, some kind of maniacal glee in its eyes.

“I am one of the world, and I feast on the world, Traveler. Have you ever tasted the world?”

I kept my eyes trained on it while I slowly pulled my legs to my chest. “No. What is it like?”

A low, delighted grumble left its mouth. “It is the greatest pleasure.”

I silently placed my feet on the ground.

“The purpose of existence.”

I rose and began to move, eyes never leaving its face. It contorted its neck to follow my every step.

“It tastes of carnage and life and bliss.”

I stood under the trap door, but I was too short. I swallowed.

“Your kind tastes the sweetest.”

I looked up. Snarls and scratches and a screeching howl broke the silence in the room. I snapped my eyes back to it. It unhinged its jaw, mouth composed of rows upon rows of teeth as it drooled onto the floor. Its eyes were bright and scolding. The tendrils fanned out, intent on capturing me. I took a deep breath before extending my hand, putting it in front of its face. Its pupils dilated, but it didn’t move. I stepped on its tendrils, using its body to climb higher as my hands clasped onto the handle.

I stared into its eyes as I shoved the trap door open, cold air rushing through the entrance. Another breath. The air stilled. I lurched through the door and slammed down on Emil as it tried to burst through. The tendrils thrashed and scraped at the surface as I continued to press down the door. It wasn’t the door began to cut into the tendrils and Emil cried out in pain did it stop. The appendages slowly recoiled before the door finally closed.

I looked around at the empty land surrounding me, the sun casting long shadows. I let out a sigh before I turned. A small hint of relief made my muscles relax. It was not only the mountains, but the mountain pass.

Progress. At last.  

[thee-ghosty]

The Traveler Series -- Part I

The Creature

The creature had been following me for days, I knew that much. It was another thing claimed by the darkness. A servant of evil, my father would’ve called it. Rain descended upon me, drenching my clothes and pack as I trudged through the muddy forest floor. It hadn’t let up in days. If I don’t get out of here soon, I thought, then I will never leave. I will die, nameless, in this horrible place. Just another corpse of the wood.

I knew it was ambitious when I set out on my journey, but I told myself I could do it. Or it was that no one told me not to. I told the people at home I was planning to travel through the forest and they didn’t seem to acknowledge my words. No one asked me why I was going. No one stopped me at the gate of our village. They probably weren’t even thinking of me as I pushed through the dense foliage, looking for some speck of light, of hope, in this realm of shadow.

Did I even bother to ask myself why I was doing this? It had been so long since I made the decision to leave. What was I looking for? Shelter. Yes, shelter. That is what I am looking for right now; protection from this terrible rain.

With each step forward I swept my lantern around me, the light splitting the forest as I did so. There must be something here, I told myself. Step. Sweep. Step. Sweep. On and on as my body shivered. Please. Please, let there be something here. I don’t even know whom I was begging at this point, but clearly someone was listening. One final step and I saw it; my salvation. It was an opening to a cave jutting out of the dirt. I stumbled and sloshed through the dirt as I tumbled toward it, my heart pounding in my chest. I gracelessly stepped over the roots lining the bottom and dropped to my knees, a deep sigh leaving my body.

I set my lantern down with a clank before rummaging through my pack. My stomach grumbled as I dug through my things, and my brows furrowed as I continued my search. I know I packed some more before I left. My bag slowly emptied the longer I fruitlessly looked. My hands dove into each pocket, tugging at the material as if it would magically produce something to satiate my hunger. I flipped my bag over and shook it, but there was nothing. Dread pooled in my empty stomach.

I started to peel off my wet jacket when a cold wind whipped through, and I drew the jacket tighter around my shoulders. I leaned back against the cold, damp wall of the small cave, that feeling of loneliness I tried to ignore gnawing at me. Foolish. This is completely foolish. I was alone, completely alone, in the forest no one returned from, shivering and wet and tired. I wanted to sleep but every time my eyes fluttered closed, something forced me awake. Why couldn’t I sleep? Oh, right, it wasn’t safe to sleep. It wasn’t safe to sleep because I wasn’t alone.

I am not alone.

My eyes snapped open at the reminder. I lurched toward my lantern and faced it to the entrance, and there it was. Two eyes reflecting the light like two stars in the night sky, staring at me. I’ve seen these eyes before, I realized. Whenever I’d look behind my shoulder I could see the two points of light. I had assumed it was pieces of the sun breaking through the dense foliage but as I stared at it, I now knew it was the creature. Did I ever see stars at night or were those simply eyes gazing down at me?

It rustled its form before slowly extending a limb, sounding like rope being pulled taut. A hand came into view. Was it a hand? Every time I blinked its appearance would shift. It was a skeleton hand, then a beast’s paw, then something like a tree branch. It was like it couldn’t decide what it wanted to be, or how it wanted me to perceive it. Whatever it was, it held out a piece of bread to me. When I didn’t accept, its limb extended further until its hand stopped just before the cave.

My stomach growled. I needed to eat, but could I trust this thing? This thing that was claimed by the darkness and stalked me my entire journey.  I wanted to question the creature about its intentions, but as I shifted my light around its cloaked figure, I could see no mouth. The figure I saw kept changing, morphing into an amalgamation of beasts every time I blinked, but no form of it had a mouth.

I could feel my resolve eroding as we sat in this bizarre standoff. Could I even trust myself? I was the one who got me stuck here. I didn’t stop myself, question whether this was a good idea. I only thought this would fill the growing void in my chest. I thought it would give life meaning, give it importance. But now I sat across from an ever-changing beast with a piece of bread in its slimy hand.

I whipped the bread from its hand before slinking back to my spot against the wall. Its limb creaked as it retracted. My eyes darted between its eyes and the bread before I broke off a piece and placed it in my mouth, and I could’ve cried at the warmth. I didn’t even chew before swallowing. A ravenous need clawed through my throat but the layer of slime on the bottom  prevented me from devouring it whole. I picked it apart and consumed every ounce, the creature still staring at me. It was like it was studying me, dissecting my behavior as I ate. The only remnant of the bread left was the soggy bottom. I hesitated before extending my hand towards the creature. It didn’t move and I was about to retract before my hand was engulfed by cold darkness. I tried to lurch back but the darkness’ grip was unyielding before it let go, revealing my empty hand.

The pouring rain slowed to a drizzle and the creature, for the first time since I looked upon it, shifted its eyes away from me. It stared deeper into the forest before rising silently and disappearing into the shadows. I thought that was the end of this strange interaction, but then two points of light appeared on the edge of the cave entrance. They would disappear and then reappear, almost like it was wanting me to follow it. My mind told me to stay put, but my instincts told me to follow. I gathered my things and slung my damp pack over my shoulder before standing and following after it. We meandered through the trees for a long time and a short time before orange light appeared beyond the trees. The light continued to grow and grow as we pressed forward before I saw it for the first time in an eternity; the sun.

When I looked at the creature I expended to see it in its entirety, but I could only see its eyes in the shadows of the trees. It looked at me before looking toward the sun, and I took that as a signal to leave. I said a quiet thank you before continuing toward the light. When I finally broke away from the tree line, I glanced back, my breath catching. Dozens dots of light stared at me, lingering between the shadows of the trees. I gave them a nod and turned my back to the dark forest.

[thee-ghosty]

Some Sketches based on abc’s “The Terror” (2018)

This isn’t my usual content, but this show has literally consumed me and so I am required to make it everybody’s problem.

[thee-ghosty]

Snippet 10

“You know we're bound to each other for eternity, right?” The villain said.

“Yeah.” The hero replied quietly.

The hero and the villain sat on the hill, watching over the city they had destroyed and protected with their lives. It was at peace, the fires and earthquakes they caused resting in the dirt. The hero’s agency. The villain’s underground force. It all ceased to exist. It was worth the price, surely.

It was a simple deal; peace would lay upon the city if the hero bound themselves to the one they loathed the most, the one they deemed to be their true source of suffering. It was a noble act, a no brainer for a hero to take upon themselves.  

“Did you really hate me that much?” The villain asked. Their tone was light, but the hero could feel that razor sharp edge hiding under their words.

"No. I don't think I've ever hated you." They looked to the villain for a reaction, but all they got was a blank stare. Complete silence. The hero didn’t know what to do with the quiet. 

They didn’t have a purpose anymore. They already gave their “big sacrifice”, a sacrifice that permanently tied them to the villain. This form of bonding was not for the faint of heart. It wasn't for lovers to endure, or for family to partake in. For the hero, it was like torture.

At first, the hero didn’t really notice the villain’s presence. But as the world got quieter and quieter, they began to hear them. Not just their voice, but the beating of the villain’s heart. The shallow breaths in the night. Then came the pain blooming in their chest. It spread like a wildfire, engulfing the hero’s body in flames before melting everything the hero thought they knew about themselves. They weren’t an individual anymore. Neither was the villain.

They became this amalgamation of a soul, nowhere could they be alone. Every secret and lie and memory was laid out for the other to see. The true essence of themselves walked with their hands sewn together, bloody thread and all.

"Then why did you choose me?" The villain finally asked.

"Because-" the hero paused. Their gut instinct was to make something up, make it not as personal as the decision was. But the villain knew everything about them. The fear encroached around their throat. Isn't it terrifying when someone knows every single fiber of your being? There are no barriers from their gaze. No mask to hide behind.

"Because I didn't know who else to choose. It's always been you, Villain."

"That sounded like a love confession," the villain murmured.

The hero huffed, shifting their glance back at the city skyline. "Maybe it was."

The hero couldn't hate the villain for eternity. It would snuff them out and run them dry of any emotion they could possibly muster. Maybe one day they could be comfortable with it, this blood bond. But it wasn't now. And it wasn't when they left that hill to their separate apartments, or when they returned to their boring office jobs, or when they both departed from the city years later for some better place to live and die.

No, it wasn't until a decade later. The hero mustered up the courage to call the villain after so many years of not seeing each other. When the hero heard the villain's voice on the other end of the phone, they knew it would be okay.

They would be okay.

[kateammann]

Happy International Asexuality Day!! 🖤🩶🤍💜

[thee-ghosty]

I wish a happy Asexuality day to all my aspec homies. Let’s get that garlic bread!!!🥖

[thee-ghosty]

Hii can you please continue snippet 9? I really enjoyed it and crave badly a part 2. 😔🙏🏻

snippet #9.1

part 1

The city fell within days and a new mangled one rose above its ashes. The hero watched it all with glazed eyes, his new world a slugged fog of reality.  

He didn’t keep track of just how long he was in that dark room. He knew he never wanted to see it again. But seeing the sunlight felt wrong. 

It was wrong.

Villain said, “Sunlight won’t shine on my kingdom, little hero.” And villain wouldn’t lie to hero. Not anymore. Too much blood had been spilt between them, confessions and quiet moments in that dark room formed the twisted trust tethering them together. 

Hero twitched under the berating glare of the sun. He needed, craved that darkness again.  Maybe this was a new way of torture the villain was playing with. Wait, that isn’t right, Hero thought. The villain didn’t torture Hero. Not anymore. All those pretty names, those kind words, those soft touches. Those were the actions of a lover. A lover wouldn’t hurt the hero, surely. But if this wasn’t torture, what was it then?

The villain strode into the room, breaking the hero’s train of thought. They looked nice; put together and clean compared to the scrap and blood they usually adorned. Hero’s eyes never left them as they sent their gaze upon their utopia. Fire and shattered glass and gore. It was absolute perfection. 

“It looks so different in the light, don’t you think?” They spoke softly, their gaze now penetrating the hero’s. 

“Yes,” the hero said. His pulse quickened , his heart constantly rapping at his chest cavity. But not in fear. Not anymore. 

“I did it for you. You loved the sun.” They were now fully turned to him, approaching his spot in the empty room. 

Surely they don’t mean this sun, Hero thought. How could they love something so abrasive? 

“I did?” He questioned. The villain hummed in response, tilting his chin so they locked eyes. 

“But not as much as you love me, right?” 

Hero’s eyes widened, a blush creeping up to his cheeks. He shakily nodded. A small smile traced the villain’s lips. They leaned in closer. 

“Tell me you love me.” 

“I love you.” Hero said breathlessly. 

The villain pulled him in for a soft kiss. A sweet kiss. The most pleasant kiss the hero ever experienced. It was good. This was good. All those other “heroes” that tried to save him were wrong. He was wrong before, trying to stop Villain. 

Villain was perfect and right and everything the hero needed. That was the truth, surely.   

[thee-ghosty]

Snippet #9

part 2

The hero slid into an empty alley, hand clasped over the gaping wound on his side. Villain got the jump on him today, which was very uncharacteristic of both of them. Hero typically was hyperaware of his surroundings. Villain typically liked to confront him head on. They shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on hero, but hero could figure that out later. Right now, hero was going to bleed out to death if he couldn’t close the wound. 

He pushed up against a wall and concentrated on the pain, pulling at his power to stitch his skin back together. He was anticipating the warmth of his hand spreading across his torso. He waited for the bleeding to stop. But it didn’t. 

Food, he thought tiredly, I knew I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast. 

That’s been a new quirk of his powers the past few months. They used to work without a hitch, but now it seems they needed more fuel each time he fought. He pulled out a smushed granola bar from his side pocket and peeled off the wrapper before shoving it in his mouth. He chewed quickly, his eyes jumping between one side of the alley and the other, and swallowed, pushing his hand more firmly on his side. 

He waited. His hand was cold. 

Waited. Blood trickled through his fingers and onto the concrete below him. 

Nothing. 

His heart began to pound as tried using his other hand. He kept trying and trying again before a low chuckle rang from the end of the alley. Hero froze. Villain. 

“What’s this?” They purred. “Surely it’s not the Great Hero cowering in the dark.”

Hero staggered off the wall in a sorry attempt at an escape before toppling to the ground. He still tried to move, crawling on the cold ground as methodical steps echoed off the walls behind him. He barely moved 5 feet before a hand gripped his shoulder and threw him onto his back. He winced as the villain slid their fingers through his hair and tightened their grip. When hero dared to look back at them, he only saw madness in their eyes. 

“You know, I’ve dreamt of this moment, but actually seeing it for myself is…God, your demise has been so beautiful. But you still have power. I don’t like that.”

The villain’s blade pierced his chest as he cried out, but not from pain. Every last pulse of his power left him, like his entire being was ripped out from his body. He then realized all too late. 

Villain was stealing his power, slowly, with each battle. A simple cut here and there. A gash across his leg. The searing pain in his side. The villain pulled the blade from his chest, and he screamed as the pain crashed into him 100 times harder than ever before. 

He hoped this would be his end, but villain wasn’t merciful. 

Hero’s eyes started to flutter close, his hold on reality slipping. “No, no, little hero. I can’t have you dying just yet.” The villain’s voice was soft, but venom lingered under their words. They placed a steady hand on the newly opened wound, and a scorching pain bloomed across hero’s chest. The comfort of hero’s powers were mangled by villain’s hand, cauterising his flesh rather than healing it. 

It was only hero’s body left after that, his soul sent into hiding. Villain dragged their bloody hand down his face, saying pretty words that would have made the hero blush in different circumstances. Then they picked him up, and disappeared to their lair.

The city fell within days.

[thee-ghosty]

So obsessed with snippet 8, I politely demand a third part plzzzzzz 🫨

Snippet #8.2

Part 1 Part 2

Language, references to death

It was that dream of falling again. The cold air whipped past their skin as they plummeted down into the dark, the walls of an ever opening chasm rocketing into the sky above. This was the only dream Civilian could ever remember. Even as a child  dreams of wonderland or fairies never lasted long, interrupted by being shaken awake and carried out of their home, clutching onto whatever parent was running into the dark, or falling into the abyss. 

Civilian never understood why and eventually didn’t care enough to search for an answer. Usually their alarm would shatter the dream, dragging them into reality, but not this morning. They fell a bit further into the black, just a few seconds, before a bright light engulfed them and their eyes fluttered open. Sunlight delicately draped across the room as a light breeze drifted through the curtains. Civilian slowly rolled onto their back with a yawn as their gaze shifted around the room, savoring the soft bed underneath them…much softer than they remember. The room was much larger too, and they don’t remember having such nice curtains. 

What a minute. Civilian’s eyes flew open.

This is not my room. 

Suddenly the memories of what happened flooded Civilian’s mind, them scrambling out of the bed and frantically searching the room for something to defend themselves with. Who were they defending themselves against, they weren't sure, but they didn't want to be surprised this time. Guards. Voices. Cracked skulls. Blood. Electricity. They searched through the nightstand drawers, the vanity, and the small dresser against the wall before seeing the glint of something shiny on the desk in the corner. It was a letter opener. A sharp, metal one. They snatched it off the desk with clammy hands, their heart rattling in their chest.

“Okay. Okay, okay, okay. I’m going to be fine. Yep. Perfectly fine,” They reassured themselves, shuffling over to the window and peering through the curtains. They weren’t sure what they were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t a random house in the middle of a suburban neighborhood. Trees stretched across the street, mingling with the streetlights. Cars parked on the side of the road. Trash cans at the edge of driveways. 

Normal. Just normal. What the hell?

A clang sounded below them, freezing Civilian in their place. They took a breath and held out the letter opener in front of them, shifting towards the door. With a creak, they twisted the doorknob and slowly opened the door, poking their head out. It was a short hallway with a couple of doors on one side and stairs heading down on the other. Another clang rang from downstairs. Civilian slinked out of the room and, unsurprisingly, headed towards the noise, clutching the letter opener at their side. 

They lightly stepped down each step, praying none of them would creak, until they finally reached the bottom. Another clang and the sound of running water made them press against the wall before peeking around the corner. It was a modest kitchen, with a small eating table and a sliding glass door looking out to the backyard. As Civilian’s eyes shifted slowly across the room, they finally saw them. 

Their back was turned, fiddling with something in the sink. Civilian slid towards them, the letter opener extended out in front of them. I should be leaving through the door right now, not approaching the very dangerous criminal in front of me, they told themselves. They slowly raised the letter opener above them as they moved closer. What the fuck am I doing? I can’t just stab them! They’d probably kill me before I could attack anyway.

They still weren’t sure if it was the villain who possessed them, but the memory of all the dead bodies and that burning electricity in their veins sent a shiver down their spine. They moved a few more paces before a long sigh came from the villain, the faucet shutting off in front of them. 

“Put down the letter opener.”

Civilian froze. Villain turned around, an annoyed look in their eyes. They still had that mask on, the maroon colored material covering everything from the nose up. Two triangular pieces pointed downwards from the spot below their eyes, almost digging into their cheeks like a pair of fangs. They reached behind them and lifted a mug to their lips, steam rising over the edge as their eyes bored into Civilian. Begrudgingly, Civilian set the letter opener on the table next to them, failing to hide the shakiness of their hands. 

They stared at each other for a long moment before Civilian mustered the courage to speak. “Why am I here?”

“Well I couldn’t just leave you there. You’re too much of a liability at this point.” They took a slow sip of their drink. "Your corpse would probably be floating down the river if we didn't take you with us."

“You mean kidnap me?"

“No, not kidnap. You can leave whenever you want, you're not a prisoner here. I'm not sure where you'd go considering they are hunting for you right now, but the front door is around the corner.” They said nonchalantly.

Civilian's eyes narrowed. "Who's they?"

"The Heroes of the New Age.  The same people who almost killed us last night."

"What? They were...but how did they know-"

"They were the ones who almost killed me before we met. Probably followed the blood trail right to your door. And no doubt they searched for every miniscule thing about you now because of that."

Something churned in Civilian's stomach. "I-I'm a target."

Villain nodded their head, tipping the mug to their lips.

"But I didn't know-"

"It doesn't matter. You helped me, you aided the enemy, so now you are a problem they have to take care of," they retorted, "So much for human instinct, right?"

Civilian tossed the words in their mind before it really sunk in, the pit of anxiety growing deeper in their chest. “Oh my god, my life is over. I…I’ve really fucked up this time.” 

Civilian has messed up before. They’ve made mistakes that have ruined relationships, crushed their dreams, set them back paces behind where they began. All those they’ve managed to recover from. But this…

The Heroes of the New Age were the order of the city. They dug out the bad of the city with their claws, ripping even the smallest of troublemakers apart. People said the heroes were the physical embodiment of Death, but Death was sweet, and kind, and welcoming compared to the wrath of the heroes.

Civilian's body went cold at the thought, tears prickling at the corner of their eyes as they stared at the floor. They tried to ignore all the heroes did, how messed up everything was because of them, but they knew now there was nowhere they could go where the heroes won't find them. 

The criminal considered the civilian, scanning their trembling frame with a slight tilt of their head. Their clothes were the remnants of the previous night, the now dried blood dying their plain shirt a reddish brown color. My blood, Villain thought. Thank God we got rid of that couch before more of them showed up.

"We can fix it, you know. Your life." Villain said slowly.

Civilian’s head shot up at the question. “Fix it?”

Villain nodded their head. “If you help me, I can wipe your slate clean. A fresh start, no strings.”

Civilian’s eyes went wide before squinted slightly, eyebrows furrowing. “What’s the catch?”

Villain paused for a beat, shifting their eyes to stare directly at Civilian. “Nothing, and I mean nothing,” they emphasized, “from your past life will exist in your new one. Relationships, family, your name, anything attached to the current you will die with your past self. No strings.” 

No strings, Civilian repeated in their mind.

“What exactly do I need to do?” They asked. 

The criminal chuckled. “I can’t just tell you my plans when you still have time to back out. I’m not that risky.” They kept that amused smirk on their lips as Civilian scowled at them. “Make your choice, then we’ll talk. I’ll give you some time to think about it.” 

With that, they strode off and up the stairs, leaving Civilian to mull over the decision in front of them. 

This is insane, Civilian thought, eyebrows furrowing. What the hell am I doing? I can’t willingly help this person. They're the child of Venraire for fuck’s sake! I’d be in some serious shit if I got caught. They wrung their hands as the thoughts bounced around, slinking down onto one of the dining chairs. Well, I’m already in some serious shit. I don’t think helping them would make a difference in my current status with the law. But losing my whole identity. Could I forgive myself for that? After everything?

They leaned their head back, taking a long sigh as their mind started to ache. They truly had no idea what the hell they’ve gotten themselves into. 

Civilian wasn’t sure how much time had passed before they heard the creak of the stairs, Villain entering their peripheral. Civilian slowly raised their head as Villain walked back into the kitchen and fiddling with something in the fridge. 

“I’ll help you.” Civilian said bluntly. 

There was silence for a moment. Villain slowly peered around the fridge door, seeming to raise an eyebrow under the mask. “You’re certain?” 

“What do I have to lose at this point?” They said weakly. 

With that, a sly smile spread across the Villain’s lips, and that sinking feeling in Civilian’s chest grew. They closed their eyes and took a breath. 

They were absolutely, undeniably fucked. 

[thee-ghosty]

please continue snippet 8 it's so cool

Snippet #8.1

Part 1 part 3

Language, graphic depictions of violence

Venraire’s their father? 

Are you fucking serious? 

Civilian swam through the wave of thoughts bombarding their mind. Now, they don’t have just a stranger bleeding out on their couch, but the child of the biggest crime boss in the whole damn city. Why didn’t they listen to common sense, just for once? 

Should I call the police? Maybe.They couldn’t run anywhere in their condition. And if the police question me, I’ll just tell the truth. I wouldn’t get in trouble for being a good citizen…right? 

The only problem was they couldn’t call the police right in front of the criminal. They’d probably snap their neck or something. Civilian wasn’t sure what this person could do, they didn’t even know Venraire had a child in the first place. But they did know this person was dangerous and could probably kill them in a multitude of ways without breaking a sweat. 

Maybe if I go get more towels, then I probably won’t raise their suspicion. Hopefully. 

Civilian swallowed. “I-I need to get more towels. Just one sec-”

“What about the ones on the ground?” 

Civilian took a quick glance at the floor, the neatly stacked towels next to their knees. “Uh, they’re not good. Need the other kind.” 

“God, you’re a terrible liar.” The criminal’s gaze pinned them in their place. It was calculating, a glint of something they couldn’t decipher. Civilian could only look with wide eyes. The criminal sighed. 

“Look, if you care for your life, then do exactly as I say. You’re going to give me your phone and not move a muscle as I call my people. When they arrive, you’ll stay exactly where you are until we’re gone. You won’t say a word of this to anyone or I will gut you like a fish. Understood?”

All Civilian could do was nod, their hand shaking as they pulled their phone from their pocket, the criminal snatching it out of their hand. Civilian kept their gaze down as the other quickly typed and dialed. The phone rang for a beat before being picked up, Civilian not able to hear the other voice on the line. 

“Sparrow in red, sending you the coordinates.” 

The call ended and the criminal typed again before placing the phone beside them. Neither of them said a word, only the sound of the criminal’s ragged breaths and the hum of the AC unit breaking the silence. Civilian’s whole body was rigid, fearing even breathing could mean their death. 

Would they kill them anyway? Civilian was a liability now, and it doesn’t seem like the child of a crime boss would spare anyone. The question was on the tip of their tongue. No, their conscience told them, don’t be stupid-

“Are you going to kill me anyway? After your people get here?” Civilian choked out.

The criminal turned their gaze to them, eyes narrowing. “Kill you anyway?” they repeated.

“I-I’m a loose end, aren’t I? I figured you worked under a ‘no witnesses' kind of thing.” 

The criminal considered it for a moment. “That depends on you. Don’t say anything and we pretend this didn’t happen. Do say something and, well…” 

Civilian closed their eyes, praying to god they could keep their mouth shut, just this once. If only they could reverse time, then they could be laying in their bed, watching some terrible soap opera and eating ice cream. Not covered in blood and thinking of their probably imminent death. If only-

The lights suddenly shut off, the hum of the AC unit dying away. Civilian opened their eyes, confusion evident on their face before morphing to annoyance. Seriously? A power outage right now? This is the third time this month. 

“Is this normal?” The criminal said, judgment laced in their voice. 

“Unfortunately. Jesus, I need to find a better apartment complex.” Civilian muttered under their breath. 

“And a new couch. There is no repairing this one.”

Yeah, no thanks to you. They almost let it slip out before barely catching it. 

Something thumped against the front door, startling Civilian. Their head whipping up towards the sound, ears straining to hear anything else. 

Another thump rang out, their breath quickening once again. 

Another. 

Silence. Civilian held their breath.

The door was sent across the room, flying off its hinges in splinters. A furious pounding of footsteps invaded the room. A yelp escaped their lips as Civilian ducked in front of the couch. Indistinguishable voices clamored over each other as more people ran into the room. 

What the fuck is happening?!

“Grab my hand,” the criminal hissed behind them. 

“What?” Civilian stammered. 

“Grab my hand!” They threw it in front of them. Civilian’s eyes frantically passed between the criminal and their hand before they finally latched on. A sudden surge of energy traveled through them, like fire was poured into their veins. Their eyes glazed over, something grabbing onto their soul and pushing it aside to make way for whatever entity was now possessing them. They could see their body, but they weren’t controlling it, especially when they rose from the ground and sprouted a blade of blue electricity from their hands. 

What the actual fuck?

Civilian watched as they turned to the crowd of people in their living room. They looked like soldiers, black masks over their faces and combat gear covering them head to toe. They took a breath and raised the blade above their head before throwing it down, a loud clap of electricity crashing through the soldiers. 

Civilian didn’t want to watch but they physically couldn’t keep their eyes away. They sent the blade through the chests of two soldiers, twisting it before flinging them across the room into another set of soldiers. Limbs were twisted. Bones were cracked. Screams of pain echoed in the room. Soldiers were split open and skulls crammed into the walls. It was a blur of blood and electric light. 

And just as suddenly it began, it was over. Bodies splayed over the apartment, sunken into broken furniture and cracked walls. The entity remained for a moment, almost taking in the headspace it currently crowded before leaving in a rush. Civilian sunk to the ground, barely able to keep their eyes open. They were fading in and out, barely remembering the new set of people who came in and carried them off. Barely remembering the criminal’s faint words. “I think we’ll keep this one.”

[thee-ghosty]

Snippet #8

part 2 part 3

Civilian couldn’t have possibly predicted that just 40 minutes after their shift at the local bar, they would be covered in blood, have a random stranger in a mask bleeding out on their couch, and frantically looking up how to stop blood loss. 

They expected today to be just like every other day of their boring life. They passed by one of the alleys on their normal route home when a loud crash stopped them in their tracks. They could have ignored it and not gotten into this mess, but they had a vendetta against common sense, so naturally they had to go see what happened. A few moments later, they were arguing with a stranger, bleeding profusely onto the concrete, about getting them to a hospital. The stranger were adamant that they would be fine, they just needed to get home…which was on the complete other side of town. More bickering ensued before they settled on the current situation; Civilian nursing an almost dead person back to life. 

Civilian’s eyes frantically dragged across the computer screen until an answer popped up. 

“Apply direct pressure on the cut or wound with a clean cloth, tissue, or piece of gauze until bleeding stops. If blood soaks through the material, don't remove it. Put more cloth or gauze on top of it and continue to apply pressure.”

“Okay…okay. I can do this. I got this. Right.” Civilian muttered under their breath.

This was absolutely insane, they knew that and they were a breath away from having a panic attack, but they pressed on nonetheless. They rushed to the bathroom to get towels, some painkillers and a bottle of water before returning to the masked stranger on their couch. Their breath was shallow, but they were still awake. That’s a good sign, right? Civilian questioned. The stranger’s hands still covered over the wound, red slowly dripping through their fingers. 

“You need to move your hands, alright? I gotta cover the wound.” Civilian said with a quiver in their voice.

The stranger slowly shifted their hands away from their side, exposing the extent of the damage. It was a miracle that Civilian hadn't passed out from the sight. They had no idea how deep the wound was, but the amount of blood seeping through the person’s suit and into Civilian’s couch made them wonder how this person was still breathing.

The stranger hissed as Civilian placed the soft towel to their side, hoping they were applying enough pressure. Hell, hoping anything they were doing would actually help. What would they do if the stranger dies? In their apartment no less? 

They pushed the dread from their mind and thought of how they were going to get the blood out of everything. The towels they could wash, but the couch might not be salvageable...Wait. That's not important right now. Focus, Civilian. They mentally told themselves.

“I have some painkillers. Here, let me-”

“Painkillers won’t do shit.” The stranger said through gritted teeth.

"I mean, anything at this point will help. You might feel better if you would just let me take you to a hospital-”

“No.” 

“Why not? You have a problem with doctors or something?” Civilian questioned, frustration slipping into their voice. 

“No, they have a problem with me.” They replied. 

Civilian huffed. On the cusp of death and they're still acting like an ass. Maybe they should’ve left them in that alley after all. Civilian pressed harder, causing the stranger to grunt out in pain. They shot Civilian a fiery look. 

“Oh, did that hurt?” Civilian asked with faux sympathy, “I’m sorry my bedside manner isn’t up to your standards.”

“I didn’t ask for your help, you know. I would’ve been fine.”

“Oh, so I was supposed to leave you there to die? Yeah, no. That wasn’t going to happen.” 

The stranger looked at Civilian with pinched brows. “Why do you care anyway?”

Civilian held their gaze before shifting back to their hands, trying to figure out why they did care. “I guess it’s just human instinct. We don’t like to see people suffer.” 

The stranger scoffed at Civilian’s words. “Yeah, just like humans don’t mind hunting down their own kind for sport.” 

Civilian gave them a quick glance before placing another cloth over the now soaked through towel. “Can you say anything that isn’t angsty? Or is that a part of your ‘character’?” 

“Character?” The stranger asked, sounding almost offended. 

“You know, the mask and the costume. Is that character super edgy or do you talk like this all the time?”

Something stilled in the stranger, their eyes sharpening as they stared at Civilian. “You don’t know who I am, do you?” They asked slowly. 

“No…am I supposed to? I’m not super into comics or anything like that, so I probably wouldn’t know even if you tell me.” Civilian replied nonchalantly. 

“Does the name Venraire sound familiar to you?”

Civilian paused. Venraire was a big crime boss that caused mass destruction to the city a few years ago. Even though he was brought to justice, nothing could’ve made up for all the lives lost to him. Civilian slowly looked to the stranger, their heart thumping louder in their chest. A small smile traced the stranger’s lips, a darkness coming to their eyes. 

“He’s my father."

Oh shit.

To be continued...

[thee-ghosty]

Prompt #4

“Give me back the plans, you son of a bitch.”

The hero dug the knife in the villain’s neck, drops of blood slipping under the blade. There was fire in their eyes, a beautiful flame that captured the villain, threatening to swallow them whole. 

Fear and lust danced in the villain’s chest as they gazed at the hero, feeling the pulsing rage of energy from them. 

“By god, you’re beautiful.” The villain murmured. 

[thee-ghosty]

Snippet #7

@ghostly-prompts

Prompt #585

Why do you feel guilty? There are many things you should be regretting, but not this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The villain watched as the young hero trembled in front of them. They held a golden dagger in their clammy hands, fear resting in their eyes. But they weren't looking at the villain. No, their wide eyes were set upon their mentor at their feet. The once grand superhero was now in tatters, all their glory stripped from them. All the hero had to do was kill their mentor and they would be free. Why were they hesitating?

Villain could feel the pulsating energy from the superhero, a silly attempt of gaining control over their student. But they knew the hero was stronger than them. Fire danced behind the superhero's eyes, a burning anger scorching their face. It was a test.

The hero raised their dagger above their head as their static energy flowed through them. They took a breath, preparing to take their claim, before a sob fell between their lips.

"I-I can't do it."

The villain, merely a shadow at this point, slowly waltzed over to the hero and grazed over their face. Tears ran down the hero's cheeks as they silently wept, shuttering like a leaf in the breeze. The villain kneeled beside them, looking up into their eyes.

"Why do you feel guilty? There are many things you should be regretting, but not this," The villain said gently.

"I'm be-betraying my teacher. I'm betraying the-"

"You are not betraying anyone, my dear. This person before you," the villain turned their head towards the superhero, "is the betrayer. I promise," they faced the hero once more, "You will be thanked for this sacrifice."

The hero stilled. "I will?"

A warm smile drew on the villain's lips. "Of course."

A wave of energy flew out of the superhero, "You bastard-"

In a flash, the villain gripped the superhero by their throat, darkness pooling around them. "You deserve a fate far worse than death, but I've let the hero choose your punishment. Be thankful I'm not your deliverer."

After a beat, they dropped their hand, and turned back to the hero, warmth surrounding them once again. "Let this be your first act of agency, of freedom, from this monster."

The villain rose and stepped back into the shadows, watching as the hero closed their eyes, taking a deep breath. Electricity fractured off the hero's body, bright light crackling around them as they opened their eyes. With a defiant glare, they lurched up their dagger and plunged it into the skull of the superhero with a loud crack, the static energy crashing into the walls.

The superhero was dead.

The hero was free.

The villain smiled at the fact.