Ghoulwriter Adrien

i’m adrien, he/him.

i’ll mostly post writing prompts, but sometimes quotes and wips as well 🖋️

i have one novel in the works (& two webcomics with the amazing @soggiestofsocks)

my favorite genres & tropes are hurt/comfort, villain/hero, and angst of any kind. that’s probably what you should except when following me!

i tag general tws but if you want one added, dm, comment, or send an ask. i got you.

“You’re always in the middle of studying!” The grin reached their eyes now, clearly not deterred in the slightest.

“Perhaps that’s a sign to leave me be.”

“Or ‘perhaps’ you’re being stubborn.”

Their counterpart scoffed a little, turning a page. “One of us certainly is.”

With a dramatic groan, the knight crossed their arms. “You’re no fun! Don’t you want to do anything other than read?”

Have you ever even read a book? “Go away.”

“I need someone to practice with!”

“You have other friends. Ask one of them.”

That did… something. An awkward silence immediately washed over the two and the knight fell quiet, fidgeting awkwardly with the plates of their armor.

“You… do have other friends, don’t you?”

“You’re the best opponent out of everyone I’ve fought.”

How bizarrely avoidant. “I hardly know how to wield a sword. You’re lying through your teeth.”

“Maybe so, but you’re cunning! And unpredictable! Hell, last time I saw you fight, you hit a guy with a spell and he went crying for his mother…” They trailed off, as if revisiting a fond memory.

“You were… there? You watched my duel?”

The knight nodded enthusiastically, beaming yet again. “They don’t train us how to deal with magic users in the field, so I go to your matches. I’ve been taking notes! And you’re the only one that I know that actually uses magic, so…”

A slight heat creeped on to the witches’ face, stumbled for words. “That’s– you’re– just study books, or something.”

“I know that’s what you do,” their counterpart pouted, leaning on a sword. “But I’m so much better learning through experience. I didn’t exactly read a book on the best place to stab someone. I just.. tried a couple times until I figured out what made them fall the fastest.”

It was hard not to smile at that. “So I should spar you because… You’ll learn my tricks and stab me?”

“W…What! No!” The knight squawked, eyes wide. “No, you should spar me because it will be fun! And you can… practice spells on me, or something?”

“I’m teasing.”

“Oh.” Their cheeks flushed a light pink.

The witch signed fondly. Damn them being this cute, too. “You’re not going to leave me alone until we spar, are you?”

Sensing where this was going, the knight lit up. “Correct.”

“And you’ll let me go back to studying afterwards?”

“Right again!”

“I guess that leaves me with one option,” The witch stood from their seat with a halfhearted stretch. “Do not actually stab me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Their friend took their wrist and tugged them towards the training fields, grinning wildly.

- ☕️ -

The witch peered over the battlefield with a disgusted grimace. They’d never seen this much carnage in one battle; frankly, they never processed that it would go this far.

Lives must be lost in the name of revolution. Blood must be spilled.

It was simply the amount of blood…

They sighed, kicking their final fallen foes body to the side. God, do I need a drink. With a yawn, they made their way further into the kingdom.

Knights didn’t really train in the way of magic users, a old friend once told them. The training must not have changed much over the years, because these warriors had been pathetic; the King had said they’d be the best and brightest, and in total the battle had been about 20 minutes.

(As they walked, they noticed the streets to the castle were clear of civilians. Unsurprising, but nonetheless very welcome.)

Of course, the King had always been an incompetent buffoon. The witch had experienced his stupidity first hand after being thrown in the dungeons the day of their graduation. ‘Magic is far too dangerous,’ he’d said. ‘You’ll corrupt all of our holy warriors.’

They all were slain now, so what good had it done him?

Reaching the castle gates came with relative ease. The Witch knocked, for the sake of politeness.

(They hadn’t really expected the doors to open, but they still internally scoffed at how rude the royal was even now.)

The path to the throne room wasn’t long once they blew open the doors with a simple spell of wind. Sure, their approach would be obvious, but where did the old man have to hide?

“O mighty king,” They sung from the final turn. “Judgement day has finally arrived.”

They rounded the bend and in front of them laid the massive corridor with a throne in the back. Sitting on the throne was the old man, as cold and cocky as ever. The witch peered up to him with a grin.

“Any final words, your highness?”

“You said you would kill my entire army before you finally came for my head.”

The witch laughed airily, a spine-chilling sound. “Perhaps you need to look outside, my king. Your men lay in shambles, they died merciful deaths… Yours will not be nearly as kind.”

The king grunted acknowledgment, but a small devilish grin emerged on his lips. “That was not my entire army.”

“Then you forgot to send them all. It is your flaw, not mine.” They prepared a spell, holding an orb of necrotic magic in their hands with ease. “I will kill all those that face me, and everyone who dared has already fallen.”

“There’s one more who dares. It was simply a fight I wanted to overlook.”

The witch scoffed, taking aim regardless. “Who?”

The king motioned behind them.

Wary of a trick, they spun on their heels slowly. Their breath instantly caught in their throat.

Their darling knight, head hung low, stood inches from them.

Years of age weighed on their face, and their stance was far worse for wear than anything the witch had remembered. Eyebags. Ragged breathing. A shell of their former glory at best, but the person they’d once loved all the same.

“What has he done to you?” The witch whispered, voice tender and low.

Format: Novel

Current Progress: Drafts

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Enemies to Friends

Summary: This story follows an amnesiac who calls themselves Adventurer. During one of the mediocre tasks she completes for her town, she stumbles upon the key to saving the world without realizing it, and everything in her life turns on its head.

With large-scale threats she’s not equipped to defeat practically appearing out of thin air, Adventurer is forced to make allies and begin the final stand to save everything she’s ever known.

~

Characters:

Protagonists: Adventurer, Any Prns | After loosing their memory 3 years ago, the only thing they remember is saving others. They’ve adopted a name and personality to fit. | Optimistic, Reckless, Fearless

Airon, He/Him | Functioned as a brainless puppet of the dictators for many years. After being freed from mind control, he will do anything not to fall back under. | Prickly, Desperate, Hardened

Ember, She/Her | A former great hero fallen from grace after all her colleagues were slaughtered, now looking for any solution to prevent the end of days. | Experienced, Blunt, Thoughtful

Milo, They/Them | A reclusive warlock who barricaded themselves in the forest after a great tragedy, now forced to fight alongside others to retain their home. | Introverted, Intelligent, Anxious

Antagonists: The Crow, She/Her | Diviner of the Mind, can change your perception of reality. | Distant, Uncaring, Self-Assured

Cassin, He/Him | Diviner of the Body, controls hordes of mindless zombies. | Aggressive, Impulsive, Violent

Rose, She/Her | Diviner of the Heart, can transfer your love of others unto herself. | Flirty, Dramatic, Charasmatic

Rook, He/Him | Diviner of the Soul, steals others intellect to amass powerful knowledge. | Cold, Charmless, Calculated

-

Sample (tw violence and blood!)

She's fast. I hardly see her as she bolts towards the soldier, dagger drawn; it only processes that she’s hit him when he collapses. She whirls as the other lackey moves towards her, dagger soaring through the air in one fluid motion and landing in his chest. He hits the ground with a thunk.

In a flash she’s at his side, yanks the weapon from his body. Blood sputters. She huffs and blows her hair from her face, sidestepping the growing puddle. Finally, she faces the general, and she lowers her chin with a grimace like an animal spotting it’s prey.

His reaction is distinctly anticlimactic.

The man stands at ease, observing the scene carefully. He looks almost.. bored.  I see him square her up, like he'd done with me; she must see it too, because she tenses and sets her jaw.

“Say mercy,” I hear him murmur.

-

There was beeping by their bedside, increasingly fast in pace. That sound triggered noise in the doorway, then a rush of footsteps and voices that all sounded unfamiliar and far too loud.

Hero covered their ears with a pillow, pressed their head to the mattress, and choked back tears. Everything went to black again.

–

The next time Hero awoke, there was an odd, heavy haze over them, like moving through water. They tried to glance around the room, but their eyelids felt too heavy. The beeping remained steady.

This time, there was another noise.

Someone was crying.

“I don’t know how to live without you.”

They tried to open their eyes, but sleep pulled them to nothingness again.

–

Hero was awake again, their body was still too weighted to move. Their eyes were unopenable.

“I killed them.”

That same voice again. Hero fought to listen. To stay awake.

“Someone snitched. I knew they would, eventually. Not that it was that hard to find out, anyways.”

Who were they talking about?

“The audacity of some minor league criminal setting up a trap like that. Who the hell blows up a whole building just to get to you? What were they hoping to accomplish?”

That’s right, there was an explosion. It all seemed fuzzy now.

“I’m… They confirmed no one else was hurt. I didn’t really care, but I figure you would.”

You sound hurt.

“I miss you.”

I miss you too.

–

As Hero woke up once more, their eyes opened a sliver and it felt like the light was piercing them from every angle. They let out a strained cry, shutting them tightly to no relief.

The monitor beeped louder, unfamiliar voices returned, but this time, Herp managed a word.

“Villain,” they rasped, voice scratchy with disuse.

Sleep’s embrace was warm and thoughtless.

– ☕️ –

This was Villains eighth visit since Monday.

(Yes, it was only Wednesday. Unimportant, really.)

The doctors called and told them Hero had been awake. So it was 3am, what did it matter? They’d arrived within minutes, the doctors leaving them alone as they walked into the room.

Villain sat down quietly at the chair that hadn’t left it’s position since a week ago when this whole nightmare hard started.

Beep…. beep…. beep…

They glanced at Hero’s heart-rate monitor. Steady. Oxygen levels much higher than earlier today. They sighed quietly, looking back at their counterparts’ sleeping face.

At least they look peaceful like this.

Like Villain had done all the nights before, they reached forward and laced their fingers gingerly together with a yawn.

They’d stay for a couple of hours.

Their eyes fluttered shut, leaning back in their chair a bit.

“V’llan?”

Immediately, their eye were open, staring at their bedridden rival who peered back, semi-conscious. They started moving to reach toward Villain, who was immediately up and inches away from them.

“Shit, hero, stay still–”

“Why’re you… You came?”

The breathless sound of a heart breaking. “Of course I came.”

Hero stared at them, eyes cloudy. “Why?”

Now that was the million dollar question.

At a moments silence, the crimefighter shook their head pleadingly. “Don’t stop talking. I’m so sleepy, pl’se keep talking. Don’t have to tell me. Just talk. So much easier to be awake when you talk…”

Villain sputtered. “You- Ah. Well. I’m here because…”

“You heard me call out?”

“You… asked for me?”

Hero nodded, looking off at the ceiling.

“Why did you ask for me?”

“Didn’t have anybody else to ask for.”

Another blow to the gut, this time leaving Villain to wince. “No, I didn’t come because you asked. I would’ve, if I’d known.”

“So?”

“I… You’d have done the same for me.”

A quiet chuckle. “Tha’s not it. You’re lyin’. Your ears go red when you’re lyin’.”

That was new. Villain flushed. “They what?”

“C’monn… You know my tells by now too. You gotta.”

“I most certainly do not– how long have you known that for?”

“Last Feburary.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“Nope…” With a pop on the ‘O’.

“Why not?”

“I asked the first question!”

“You said I didn’t have to answer it,” Villian replied curtly.

“I was lyin’. You answer first. Why’d you come?”

“I…” They sighed, looking off to the side. What the hell, like they’re gonna remember this anyways? “I love you.”

For the first time since Hero woke up, there was a full moments silence. They stared, blinking furiously, and exhaled in a shaky noise.

A… laugh?

Villain stared, feeling their face heat up in humiliation. That was a laugh. They were laughing!

“Fuck, Hero, you could’ve just said–”

“I didn’t tell you about your ears turning red because it’s so goddamn cute!”

Villain froze, mouth falling slightly agape. “You..?”

“I thought it was cute, and I didn’t wanna tease you over it because I thought maybe I’d slip up and tell you how much I love it! Love you! Oops, look, I just did,” Hero giggled, then contentedly yawned and started to close their eyes.

Their counterpart scrambled. “Don’t just go back to sleep!”

“Can’t go back to sleep, I’m already ‘sleep. This can’t be anything but a good dream.”

“Hero–“

“G’night, Villain.”

Just like that, their breathing leveled out and a quiet snore echoed through the room. Villain stood once again in silence, mind reeling. They flexed their hand once, twice. Pinched themselves.

Ow.

So they weren’t asleep either.

Dazed, they walked back to their beside seat and sat. Stared at the ceiling. Glanced at their counterpart. This time, a small fond smile formed on their lips.

In a daring escape from a group of officers, their disguise had slipped. Though they scrambled to retrieve it, their eyes were visible for a split second on the officer’s body camera.

Was that enough to figure out their secret identity? No, not to most people; but as the Private Investigator zoomed in on their face, they sucked in a sharp breath.

Those piercing blue eyes, double-lash line, perfectly plucked eyebrows…

“It’s you,” The Investigator whispered, slumping back in their seat. 2 long months of detective work, crime-scene chases, and sleepless nights… they’d all led to this.

They carefully shut their computer, glancing over their shoulder to ensure no one had seen the tape; the footage had been trusted to them exclusively, anyways. Perks of being the best in the field.

Please say I still have their phone number.

–

The nightclub seemed near-empty upon the Vigilante’s arrival. Despite their civilian attire, they still carefully scanned the premise before entering. Spared a glance at their phone.

PI: i’m here

With a hum, they stuck their phone into their pocket and approached the bar area, where an old friend awaited.

“Miss me that much?”

The Private Investigator practically jumped, whirling to stare at them. With a coy smile, the Vigilante slid into the seat next to them.

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually show.”

“Of course! Did you really think I’d stand up an old colleague like that?” They waved a bartender over with one hand, who dutifully approached. “Chardonnay, please. So, what’s this about?”

After clearing their throat, the PI mumbled their order and the bartender retreated to serve them. “Aren’t I allowed to want to see an old friend?”

“Sure, but you were far too shy to ever do that while we worked together. What’s changed? Someone boost your self-image?” Their counterpart choked, looking away. “I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. Even when you were a rookie, you showed potential. Someone needs to stroke your shockingly small ego.”

The Vigilante laughed a little at the glare they received, a grateful nod offered at the bartender as they served the drinks and left once more. The Private Investigator sipped their drink, a shade redder than before.

“Why’d you quit?” They finally managed, swallowing and keeping their eyes on their glass.

Weird question. “Personal reasons.”

“You loved your job.”

“I loved the idea of my job,” The Vigilante sighed. “I wanted to help people. There just came a point when I realized I was doing far more harm than good.” They spared a glance in their acquaintances’ direction, who’s darkening gaze was fixed on their drink. “Are you having issues with your job?”

That seemed to startle them out of their stupor, eyes snapping up. “No! No, everything is– that is to say, I’m the best in my field by now.”

“Better than me?” They teased, watching the PI redden.

“You’re not in the field anymore.”

“If I was, you’d probably have surpassed me by now.”

“Don’t– …Don’t say that. No I wouldn’t have.”

Quirking their eyebrow, The Vigilante studied their former friend. Something was wrong. The fidgeting. The way they worried their lip, looked away at any opportunity they could.

“What is going on with you?”

“H..hm?”

“No, seriously. What’s on your mind? The gears in your brain are turning so hard that I can practically see smoke coming from your ears.”

There’s a moments pause before the Private Investigator tightens the grip on their glass, jaw stiffening. “While you were on the job, did you ever find out something that you wish you didn’t?”

A hum. “Sure. I got into things the city was trying to keep under the rug. Stuff that made me sick. There was a point when I couldn’t keep quiet. They didn’t like that.”

“But anything about… What about something about someone you cared about?” Two doe eyes fixed on them, glancing through lashes.

Oh. That’s where this is going.

“I suppose so.” It was the Vigilantes turn to sip their drink, curiously peering back.

“What did you… do, with that information?”

They frowned. “What is this about?”

“Seriously, just- answer me?”

“I quit,” They replied bluntly, setting their drink down to cross their arms.

There was silence, and then a tiny nod. The Vigilante watched as the Detective pulled out their wallet, producing a small wad of money, and standing from the table.

They stood in turn. “Where are you going?”

“I have a lot to think about. Thank you for getting a drink with me.”

“Hey–”

“There’s enough money there for both of us, plus tip. Take… take good care of yourself.”

With that, they were gone, leaving Vigilante sitting alone at the bar with half the mind to go after them.

Before they stood, they noticed a small tape under the wad of cash.

Police Bodycam Footage #2182: Confidential, Original Copy.

—

It’d been eight hours, twenty-seven minutes and forty seconds since the collapse. The hospital waiting room was distinctly unpleasant, the lights far too bright; Villain had only really noticed that on hour seven or so. A child coughed next to them. They withdrew further into themselves, tapping their foot impatiently.

And another thing; someone should’ve noticed by now. All I needed was a cheap pair of sunglasses and a gruff ‘we’re family’ to bypass security. How many times have the two of us made live television, face in full view? How has no one said a word?

A doctor approached down the hallway with a strained expression. Immediately, Villain was up from their seat.

“Are you-”

“Are they alive?”

The doctor startled, clearing his throat and regaining composure. “At the moment. We’ve done everything we can, but they’re not over the hill yet.”

Villain’s chest tightened, guilt pooling in their stomach. “It was… that bad?”

A heavy sigh, weighted with sympathy. “There was massive internal bleeding. To be frank, it’s a wonder their organs functioned long as they did; with the injures they sustained, it should’ve led to collapse hours before the second fight.”

There was a moments pause as the Villain seemed to buffer, processing.

“Second fight?” They managed to withdraw their eyes from the floor, and the Doctor simply nodded, flipping through the files on their clipboard.

“Incident reports from civilians indicate only a single hit happened in this battle, and it was to the face. The black eye corroborates that. It doesn’t explain the shattered ankle or multiple broken ribs, much less the gaping wound on their back. The bleeding has also progressed far too quickly to have occurred just before medics arrived.”

Villain staggered a bit on their feet as emotions hit them like a train. Relief, coupled by grief and an overwhelming, all-consuming rage.

Who. Fucking. Dared.

Fuming, they clenched their fists to hold back the fury that threatened to unleash itself on innocent people. Before they could storm out of the hospital to crush every would-be-threat in the damn city themselves, the doctor once again snapped them from their thoughts.

“They’re comatose right now, but if you’d like to see them, now might be a good time to…” The words trailed off, but the meaning remained. This might be goodbye.

“Take me to them.”

—

Hero looked like hell.

Villain stood at their bedside for a solid minute assessing the damage. Bandages wrapped around their stomach were stained crimson, their breathing labored at best.

“Hey, hero.”

They took a chair conveniently placed just to the side of their unconscious adversary. Words felt hollow. The room almost echoed, despite its size.

“I’m sorry.”

They didn’t shift. Villain fidgeted with their hands.

“I should’ve recognized… sooner. I saw you limping, and I didn’t… I’m sorry.” A shaky exhale.“Whoever fucking did this to you, I’m going to kill them.” Their voice lowered, as if testing. “You hear me? I’ll kill them. You hate it when I kill people, so you better wake up and tell me not to.” Nothing. “Wake up, Hero.” A pleading, whispered request. “Please.”

The beeping of the heartrate monitor steadily reverberated through the air as no other noise remained.

Villain stood, closing the distance between themselves and their counterpart. With a shaking hand, they reached forward and trailed their fingers over the Hero’s face in a featherlight motion, as if dedicating it to memory.

An uncomfortable lump formed in the Villains’ throat.

“I don’t know how to live without you.”

The whispered confession hangs in the air before it’s gone.

The heart-rate monitor almost drowns out silent sobs from Hero’s bedside. Almost.