You're A Murder Victim Haunting An Old Apartment Building. The Newest Tenant's Apartment Is Full Of Teenagers

Oh my god I am so obsessed with ‘A Man of His Word’ could you please continue it if you have time? Thank you sooo much i love your writing so much.

Happy to! Thanks for the kind words, hope you enjoy :)

Pt. 1

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A Face with Two Hands (A Man of His Word pt. 2)

Cw: childhood parental loss, interrogation + previous warnings

“11:59,” the clock read.

It was digital, so no ticking could be heard from where it was reinforced into the wall. Civilian was just as silent where they stood in the center of the utterly empty room.

Around them, cold gray walls closed in, broken only by a thick metal door. It was painfully cliche as far as cells go, appropriate for a cold-hearted villain to stash away all their problems and inconveniences.

Like Civilian.

The quiet was peaceful, for a moment.

Silence, however, tends to beg to be broken, and Civilian’s mind was more than happy to oblige the whims of the stale air around them.

As easy as breath filled their lungs, the voices of their Mom and Dad flooded their head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Midnight,” they had promised, with eyes full of love. “You should be asleep by then.”

But Civilian wasn’t.

Instead, they were camped out in the kitchen, nest of blankets keeping them separate from the hard laminate floor. They refused to give in to the sleep that pulled relentlessly at their eyelids, gaze stubbornly locked on the little green numbers that glowed above the oven and spelled out broken promises.

They clutched a small stuffed panda in their arms, waiting for the familiar sound of the garage door opening. Their eyes watered as they rested their head against the wooden table leg.

With each minute that ticked by, Civilian’s heart dropped a little lower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Looking at the clock now, Civilian couldn’t help but feel the same sense of dread.

They shook off the memory, coming back into the present with a disorienting blink.

It was three hours till the next switch check in. As far as Civilian could tell, Villain wouldn’t be back until then.

Plenty of time to take inventory.

Physically, Civilian had little more than the clothes on their back.

The cuts Villain had inflected still laid open and untreated. Clearly, he didn’t plan on them living long enough for infection to become a problem.

They tried to tear strips out of their jacket in hopes of maybe tying some fabric around their wound but quickly deemed the weave too thick. Out of necessity, they moved onto the thinner cotton of their T-shirt, tearing off the hem with a degree of difficulty and gripping it with their teeth to tie as tightly as they could manage.

They really did miss having Friend’s extra hands and muscles around.

Mentally, they were about at the same level, except there was no shirt bandage that would stop the echoing in their mind.

Prisoner.

The word sat like cold iron wrapped around their heart, the weight like a death and betrayal all in one.

Civilian didn’t know how they could ever forget a feeling like that.

They were painfully aware that there was nothing but an awkwardly blurted secret and three days of planning keeping an old friend from spilling their blood across the unforgiving concrete of what they could only assume to be some kind of basement.

They took a deep breath and glanced at the clock again.

Well, two days now.

Unexpectedly, a sharp wave of anger crashed over them. Did their friendship truly mean nothing? They were so, incredibly, irrevocably stupid! Now they were probably going to die, stuck in this stupid place he brought them to (because of course he had a place-!)

The door opened with no warning, the loud clicking and snapping of the lock sending a sudden jolt through their heart and taking several more years off their life.

The man that entered seemed nothing but cold and distant.

He wasted no time stepping towards them, and in turn Civilian wasted no time falling flat on their ass trying to back away from him.

“What was your plan?” He questioned without preamble, freezing his movements and allowing Civilian a precious second to think.

Unfortunately, even with the immediate threat paused, they still lacked the clear-headedness to answer.

What was Villain talking about? He was the one with a plan to take down Hero. Civilian just needed to help work out one little kink-

“What?” They asked the stone-faced villain.

“After ten seconds.”

Oh, that plan.

“Hope for the best?” They squeaked.

Civilian’s attempt at a self-loathing chuckle ended in nothing but a weak cough.

Once upon a time, Friend would have laughed heartily with them, bent over, one hand holding his stomach. Villain did no such thing. Eyes that could never have belonged to Friend cut them a dangerous glare.

“Okay, then. We’ll start with the harder questions,” he spoke level, but Civilian knew a dangerous tone when they heard one. Slowly, they started crawling back, but it didn’t matter.

Villain descended and Civilian shrunk with the knowledge that his hands were not empty.

“How the fuck did you figure out who I am?”

As much as Civilian tried to ignore it, the way he spit the pronoun stung.

Civilian was not unfamiliar with pain, nor were they unfamiliar with those close to them inflicting it upon them. What they felt now, however, was a level far beyond anything they had felt before.

They supposed he, of all people, would be an expert in inflicting pain.

In a matter of seconds, Civilian was sure they didn’t have nearly enough shirt left to bandage everything. Their tongue loosened with the stinging. They had no question this was intended by the man holding the sharpened knife.

“Die,” they blurted as a result, in that oh-so elegant manner that Villain had a habit of bringing out in them.

“Excuse me?” Villain challenged, eyebrows raised and hand poised to continue cutting.

“My plan,” Civilian grit hard through their teeth, “was to die.” They clarified, rolling over to groan. “I made peace with it.”

Villain considered them for a moment, rising to his full height and staring down at them with a confusing mix of condescension and possibly pity. Or perhaps he was just smug. Civilian certainly didn’t trust their ability to read him anymore.

He tilted his head slowly, only adding to Civilian’s confusion as he smirked.

“Did you make peace with this?”

To that, Civilian said nothing.

His face evened out again, and Civilian recognized the masked anger, familiar as the taste of blood, as he reached down. Villain pulled them up by the collar, wrestling their arms roughly behind their back as he leaned over their shoulder.

“That was not your best plan,” he whispered, before pulling them out the door.

The vampire spat out your blood. "God, what have you been eating?!"

The rain is coming down hard and unrelenting. The roads are muddy and slick, unlit and miserably cold. You are aimlessly seeking shelter when none but your nemesis stops beside you.

"Come to gloat?" you shout over the rain.

"Always," they call back with a smile. "Looks like you need a ride."

Your teeth are chattering. Your head is pounding. Your clothes are sopped.

"No, thanks. I love it out here," you snap.

Their smile drops. "Get in. We need to talk."

reminder

"Do I even have a purpose?"

"You're the reason I'm tolerating this world at all."

Oh goodness, I'm here for these vibes and would love a part 2.

Prompt #82

By @writingpromptsworld

The villain swore they could smell the hero's very prominent cologne in the dark office, and they had to resist the urge and not take every little thing away with them.

But no, they were on a mission. And they needed to focus, or else the supervillain would-

"You're the recruit, aren't you?" Someone spoke up, the voice was deep and smooth. They sounded amused.

The vilian froze, in the process of sniffing the hero's coat that hung on the chair behind their desk. They look up, alerted. And take out their gun. The person walked closer, and their face glowed under the moonlight. The village's eyes widened when they saw who it was.

The hero grinned. "Relax. I'm in no mood to fight."

The villain’s heart beat wildly in their chest. They didn't lower the gun, scared and in awe at the same time. The hero was even more good-looking in person as if that was possible. They gulped, and when the hero didn't come closer, they lowered the gun slowly.

The hero's grin only broadened. "Care to tell me why you were sniffing around my coat?" The villain's face immediately went scarlet, their heart dropping in their stomach. '

"Uhh…" They started. "I was searching…for potential information about your- next mission?" They really hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, but it did anyway and they cursed under their breath.

"And what is this crucial information you would find in there?" The hero played along, cocking their head to the side.

The villain opened their mouth and closed it, not sure how to tell the hero they were…curious. Well, curious is putting it lightly, they were obsessed, really. "Good question." They said, a second later.

The hero looked more entertained by the minute. They took a few more steps that brought them right in front of the villain, meeting their eyes. The hero's eyes were gray, like the moon, and glowing with mirth.

The villain checked out the hero before they could stop themself, their mouth drying at the sight.

The hero chuckled, "You're terrible at keeping a blank face. A really bad quality for a vilian if I say so myself."

Okay. That's it. Everything they had read about the hero was wrong. The hero wasn't stoic and ruthless as listed in their 'bio', they were something worse: flirty and dangerously good-looking.

CW: Violence

Beware, friend

story by @yeehawpim and illustrated by @rvicta

Beautiful arc and a good sense of weight

jumping fishboy :3

also quality is bad as before womp womp :c

Malcom had lived a good five centuries on Earth, and not once had he seen such stupid, brazen audacity. He rubbed his eyes and blinked tiredly at the man in front of him. "First-- Goodness... What... What makes you think I want to help you?"

"I'll give you blood, sir," Emmett said, yanking his sleeve much too readily. "Or... Money? Please say blood."

Malcom crinkled his nose and gave him a once-over. "Listen, I don't know where you came from, or what you're in, but what makes you think you can just walk up to someone on the subway a-and just ask for something like that?"

"Why's it so weird? I want my mind stronger." Emmett clapped Malcom on the back, and Malcom glared daggers. "Maybe we can even help you fix your... Uh... Mind control difficulties? Make a game out of it."

"Listen, hush, will you? Also, what difficulties?! My mind control is fine!" Malcom took a deep breath and worried his lip. "Also, quit saying vampire this, mind-control that. You're freaking people out." He shook out a newspaper and hid behind it.

"Oh wow. I didn't even know they still made those." Emmett said, flicking the paper. "Do they? Is that from this century?"

"They sell them in supermarkets," Malcom sniffed.

"Oh wow, so they do. Sorry to question you, grandpa." Emmett grinned cheekily. "Hey, maybe I can teach you what we use in modern times. Do you know what the internet is?"

Malcom gave him a deadpan look and held up his smartphone. "Sometimes I just like print better," he said. "Now go find some other poor sucker to pester."

Emmett stared at him with an almost hungry look, and gripped the newspaper. "Make me," he said.

Malcom grimaced. "This is some sort of weird fetish, isn't it? Let me sit you down and tell you about a little thing called consent. No means no."

"Listen," Emmett said, suddenly very serious. He seemed like he was having difficulties getting the words out. "I... Killed... Under a demon's orders. It was... I swore I'd never do it again. And I've seen you around. We take the same route almost every day. And you seem... Safe."

Malcom was at a loss for words. Emmett's pleading tone moved him, to be sure. But more than that, he knew how it felt to be a puppet.

"I have a feeling I'm going to regret this," Malcom muttered. "Listen, Emmett... Fine. I take Venmo. I won't say no to a little blood too. Nothing from the vein. All the hair and arm sweat-- just-- no. Get some sterile needles, wipe it down, get it in a bag or bottle for me. You're not diseased, are you?"

"Not that I know of, sir," Emmett said.

"And quit calling me sir. It makes me feel old."

"Good day, good sir. I would like to be put under mind control" "I… I'm sorry… It's just… People usually don't offer volunter to do that." "Oh, it's just that I need to practice how to get free once in a while to not get rusty."

Smile out of spite

They want you to cry

Not here, not tonight

Existence is resistance

You are here, despite all odds

Thriving in the cracks they tried to seal

You are magnificent

Your roots are strong

One day you'll reach sunlight

But for now?

You know how to do with less