#mysterious character: crimson rose

[mysterycharacterflowers]

Round 2; Crimson Rose Vs A bouquet of ginger torch lilies and blue carnations

First, let's talk about the Crimson Rose:

Meaning and why this flower was chosen: it means mourning and she's a necromancer who is mourning constantly Description: She is the product of her parent's atrocities, and only knows one other person her age. She is in love with a concept of something untouchable. She loves very little, and what she does love is taken from her. She's also tiny, and has the appearance of a wet sopping cat (except when you touch her she is bone dry). Her goth nature is only added to by her tragedy.

Check her post here

Now, let's talk about the bouquet of ginger torch lilies and blue carnations:

Meaning and why these flowers were chosen: These flowers canonically represent him! Ginger Torch Lillies represent heartache or self-pity, which in this case are referring to the his self pity. He has severe social anxiety and difficulties talking to people, he became extremely jealous of one of his co-workers who could be so effortlessly charismatic, and within the matrix, took on his appearance to emulate them. He pitied himself, and indulged on his own flaws. The blue lilies represent devotion. He created someone that was devoted to learn about people, and he became dedicated to her. Already with difficulties speaking to others, it did him no good shutting himself away and dedicating all of his time to her. Description: – A huge nerd. – Will tangent into psychological principals whenever they get an opportunity. – Their idea of 'light reading' includes reading a compilation of greek philosophy works, and then looking over modern practices and examining how the field has changed overtime. – Becomes the biggest fan of the Johari window, a heuristic* technique designed to help people better understand their relationship with themselves and others. (heuristic: enabling someone to discover or learn something for themselves.)

Check their post here

#round 2 #mysterious character: crimson rose #mysterious character: bouquet of ginger torch lilies and blue carnations

[shinjisdone]

Request prompt: MC just being really happy they have a boyfriend (it's their first) and is super happy around said new boyfriend Rook <3

Rook being your first boyfriend and you being very happy about it :)

Never did you think you'd find this kind of happiness in Twisted Wonderland.

As nerve-wrecking as NRC, the students and these mysterious overblots are, you cannot help but hum and swing like a character in a fairytale.

For your beloved Romeo is in this very same school, is one of the very students attending here.

The attention, the abundance of nicknames he comes up with...the smile that he harbors for you that is much different than his usual zealous ones. Rook is wonderful.

You remember it clearly. As the one and only Rook Hunt seemed to catch your attention again and again. Many find his character odd at best and off-putting at worst but you have always found him charming, and it seemed like he was aware of it :).

He'd give you compliments, recite his poems to hear your opinion and tell you all that he found beautiful, what beauty he found in all every-day things.

And then, he invited you to the garden and confessed to you with a grande poem before beckoning you with an anonymous letter sent by an arrow, of course.

You accepted very happily. What others found 'extra', you found charming. What was called 'unneccessary' you saw as passionate. And Rook loved you for it.

You can't help but gush of his surprise visits - of how he'd announce his presence with a rose, a gentle 'booh!' or an arrow almost hitting you with a gift wrapped around it.

Rook never seems to get bored by his overly romantic antics for he knows how much joy they give you. He lives for your rosy cheeks and your goofy smile.

Ah~ And what a lovely rosy-posy crimson gracing your features! And your shiny white pearls peeking through your lips! The laughter and the giggles are an unique melody that hits his ears. A hymn that is composed all for him.

Ah, bien-aimé, how can he not fall for you again and again? Appearing like this is like playing pretend - falling at first sight each and every day.

Being with you is a fairytale! Très bien!

Will go all out on each day, on each lesson and whenever else you two see each other. Seeing you be so happy motivates Rook and he simply indulges in the overly romantic actions he can do for you and the romantic tension he can create just for you.

Calls you his beloved and muse. At times he just likes to take walks with you and intensely observes you in all of your glory. Anything you do will bring in a new poem into his head. He will even gift you things, ask specific things just to see your reaction. Anything you do intruiges him and brings him new inspiration! Truly, you are a muse!

As much as he calls anything and everything beautiful, Rook is surprisingly scarce when calling you beautiful - but only because he carefully crafts his intentions. He wants to say these things in a way that has you know how utterly sincere and genuine he is. You are simply a special kind of beauty. Something that even Rook struggles to put into words.

Like a rose...a lone star shining...a shape a shadow casts...you are all of it. The happiness you radiate...it is too special to be put into words, let alone a poem.

And knowing you are so happy because of him...of how he is your first boyfriend and is able to give you so much joy...it fills him with pride.

Rook will do everything in his power to keep you shining with happiness forevermore.

Hope this was okay! the ask was quite general so I took the freedom to put it into headcanons forms :)

#request #twst #twisted wonderland #rook hunt #twisted wonderland rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt x mc #twst headcanons

[roguelov]

Crimson Stained Petals

Summary: Set in the 1880s, rumors and mysteries swirled around a quaint town, mostly about a lord tucked far into the woods. Arriving in town, you could not deny your curiosities, but you were not here to stay. Or so you thought. Low on funds, and a job for a live-in servant advertised in the paper, you now found yourself in the home of Lord Morpheus - the source of all rumors. Passions and tensions will grow. Questions will be answered, but may come at a hefty price. And a promise may be broken. But, is Lord Morpheus, and those few residents, truly as scary as they seem?

Words Count: ~3.9k

Reader: Neutral (unspecified now, however fem leaning)

Warnings: Mostly establishing characters, minor pining, hints of bloodlust

Chapter 2 and future chapters to come!

A advertisement in the newspaper, and a purpose.

A live-in house servant wanted. Duties required as such including cleaning and maintaining cleanliness of said home, laundry - including washing, folding, and ironing linens, occasional shopping, and menial requests asked of the owner, however cooking skills are unnecessary. Contact at -

You tucked the clipped ad into your pocket. You leaned back, and lazily glanced out the dusty window. The carriage bounced over the dirt path, kicking up dust clouds. A forest, thick with little sunlight penetrating through the tall treetops, surrounded the carriage on both sides. One turn, one stray off the path, and you would be lost. A poor soul taken by the creatures and ghosts of the woods. A soul whose name would drift off into oblivion in a day.

You bent forward, trying to sneak another glance at the manor - at your new home.

“Please, follow me this way.”

You were led by a woman, with round glasses, and wore a well tailored suit. She held her head high, yet her eyes shone with an unbelievable kindness. Walking in, you tried to sneak a peek over the expansive, and expensive, home: the chandler in the center of the main foyer - a globe of dripping starlight, the crown molding etched with swirling elaborate designs, two staircases carved from a rich warm wood curved upward to the second floor, the wall were mostly in dark tones - each room a designated color from greens, reds, blacks to creams - and some covered in wallpaper mimicking a lace design, however the showstopper was the stained glass window above the front door which reached to the top of the two story home - it depicted a tree in a sea of roses, dare you say a version of Eden.

The home was draped in dark, ominous tones, but where light shone it shone brightly cutting back the dread.

If only the sunlight was out now. It was setting, casting shadows across the floors and onto the walls. And with the dense forest, night arrived much faster.

The woman directed you to a small, parlor room to the right of the entrance. Cozy, would be how you would describe the room. A place to talk with guests. There were two sets of couches and a few chairs with a table. Cream tones covered the room, breathing fresh life compared to the diming home. The fireplace, however, was unlit and the curtains were drawn closed for the night leaving a chill. It was a give and take.

“Please, sit.” The woman pointed to any of the seating options.

You nodded, and chose the couch directly across from the other, with the table adding a division. The woman smiled, and sat across from you.

“I’m not sure if I properly introduced myself initially, so apologies for such odd behavior. You may call me Lucienne,” the woman, Lucienne, spoke.

“Lucienne,” you greeted with a small bow of your head. “It is wonderful to now be formally acquainted. You may call me (Y/N).”

You were pleased to skip past such stiff formalities of sir, ma’am, mister, and misses.

Lucienne smiled, softly reaching her eyes. “Wonderful. Now, I am the one who will be conducting this interview for the job.”

You cocked your head, your confusion written plainly on your face. “The lord will not be joining us?”

“No, unfortunately, he is a busy man and has asked for me to do this in his stead. Is this okay?”

“Oh, yes, please continue.”

Lucienne nodded. “Okay, then let us start. I will begin with a simple question: why have you decided to apply?”

You fiddled with your hands, suddenly very nervous. “I’m new in town, and have been staying at the local inn. This job provides an opportunity for myself, and I cannot deny the pay piqued my interest.”

“Do you have any experience in housework?”

“Not professionally, however, I have cared after my uncle for years and have done most of the housework when living with him.” You looked out of the parlor back to the main grandiose foyer. “I will admit the size of the manor is quite daunting and intimidating, but I like a challenge. It will keep my mind and hands busy.”

Lucienne smiled, pleased with your response. However, her smile soon flickered. She straightened her posture, and cleared her throat. “Allow me to be less formal for a quick moment, I have a more personal question to ask. It’s more for my own curiosities.”

Your eyes locked back with hers. “Please, ask.”

She paused, struggling to find the correct wording. “Have you heard of the rumors surrounding the manor? Do … do they not frighten you?”

Ah.

“I have, but only a few. And I am not afraid, I am here for work and pay. As long as I can do what I can, and not stir any trouble for the lord then I will be content.”

Lucienne nodded, her smile returned. “I do believe we have found a new member of our manor.”

Your heart soared.

“However, allow me to discuss with my lord and to see if any other applicants apply. Please, you will hear from us by the end of the week.”

“Wonderful.”

The carriage pulled around the massive stone fountain - a simple three tier tower in which water gently spilled over the edges. Water lilies floated amongst the top as they were rock side to side by the small turbulence. You hopped out, taking in the manor once again.

A truly haunting, gothic visage.

It was built out of mute grey stones and harsh angles. Tall spires extended from the roof to the heavens. The stained glass window over the front door shone almost calling out to you like an exotic Venus flytrap - a beautiful front hiding a dark truth. All the tall thin windows had their curtains drawn forbidding anyone from peeking in.

Yet, life bloomed around it.

Willows trees hugged the manor, and its limbs danced in the wind beckoning all to seek shelter under them. Bushes with various flowers blossomed in front of the manor along the building’s edges. Around the side, a greenhouse stood proudly with countless vegetables and beside it, curving around the whole back side and unable to fully see from the front, was a maze formed out of lush full rose bushes. The brightest, and darkest, red roses you ever seen - the red of rising passions, the red of forbidden attractions, the red of blood spilled under the moonlight.

It truly was a serene place. A place of mystery and wonder.

“Your luggage.” You spun around, finding the coachman holding your two carryon bags. Your entire life packed neatly. He asked, “Do you -“

“Oh, no, I’ve got it. Thank you.” You took your bags.

The coachman stared, and squinted with a hint of uncertainty. His eyes flickered over your shoulder to the manor. “Okay,” he mumbled, then left.

He spun on his heel and hopped back into the carriage. With a flick of the reins, the horse whined and trotted off. May God have mercy on your soul, I will be praying for you. It all lingered on the man’s tongue, but didn’t speak aloud. For if he did, he believed whatever sick imaginations his twisted mind thought of would come to fruition. He was from an older generation, one who still believed in devils and creatures of the woods, one who warned all children of the dangers of leaving the house under the full moon. Heading down the dusty road, and once away from the manor’s sight, he finally mumbled a prayer for you.

You approached the manor - your new home for the unseeable future - with the setting sun tucked behind the foliage. You peered over your shoulder, watching as the carriage slipped out of sight. It was happening. It truly was happening.

Inhaling, you steadied yourself.

A new chapter.

You exhaled, calmly your anxious heart. You reached out, and pressed the ornate doorbell. A soft chime buzzed. Your anxiety, however, could not be quelled. You tightened your grip on your bags. Your body betrayed you, unable to settle, and your mind started to spiral into insanity.

You needed this job.

You needed to do this.

You have dealt with much worse, and yet you also wanted to tuck your tail and run. No. You vehemently shook away those fears. You will stay. You will do your job. You will start this new part of your life.

The door unlocked, and swung open with a high pitched creak. Your breath hitched, momentarily startled. You expected to see the familiar face of Lucienne, instead you were greeted with the lord of the manor.

Lord Morpheus.

He was a man of stature and wealth. He held himself with the utmost dignity with perfect posture - chin leveled with the floor, back straight, and his shoulders pushed back and downward. His chiseled features were carved out of marble, his pale skin had no blemishes. His short, cropped black hair swept back. And not a single hair was out of place, or dared to be. His eyes locked with yours. Instantly, you were small, you were a child again. A spike of fear crackled over your skin. His eyes were calm, a steady practiced calm. Yet, as he studied you, a twinkle shone in them - if it was a twinkle of interest, you could not say.

He certainly was attractive, exceptionally so.

His clothes neatly pressed. He draped himself in night’s cape: black. His midnight black vest was finely embroidered with a somewhat floral design - adding a softness to him. Two rows of silver buttons lined his vest, along with a silver chain tucked into a pocket. If it was attached to a watch or simply for design, you couldn’t tell by a quick scan. Under the vest, his dress shirt - a pale grey like a storm cloud rolling in - puffed out at the sleeves and tapered at the wrists. The cuff links were small, yet resembled starlight. With each catch of the light, they dazzled like a miniature universe - it must be an expensive jewel embedded into them. The collar, stiff and high, was wrapped in a silk black puff tie, smoothed nicely against his chest. A perfectly crafted ruby brooch was pinned to his tie. Scanning downward, his trousers were also black and tailored, and his shoes were polished as if dirt never touched them.

However, his eyes captivated you. It was the only other color on him: a pale, sparkling blue. They seemed to glow in the setting sunlight. They were swirling galaxies, they were diamonds forged in promises, they were oceans holding all its mysteries and mythology.

He seemed to be from another time, like an ode to the renaissance.

With your little time spent in town, you had still learned quite a lot about Lord Morpheus. He was a recluse who rarely left his manor, his crafted realm. And soon, whispers of witchcraft followed. Some of the townspeople still believed in folklore, and if anyone ventured off the beaten path they would be whisked away. Taken then killed. Rumors of animals gone missing, along with young adults, did little to ease their worries. Yet with no evidence, speculation stirred. So, why not point fingers at the man who hardly made an appearance with the town?

However, although he never made an appearance, his influence rippled throughout. His constant donations to the local school and businesses rebutted all such weary thoughts. He owned a local bookshop in town which was adored by most - with the expectation of those who believed the devil lurked between those shelves. He was also the CEO and founder of an editing and publishing company. He let stories into the world, and he encouraged creativity. He was the man to uplift the underdogs, but such kindness had a price. His editing, his notes on stories sent in, were cutting. Such harsh critiques were enough to discourage a few despite the reasonable payment for his services.

He was truly a man of absolute power.

“I’m sorry,” you bowed your head. “I was expecting Lucienne.”

“She is away most of the day to care for the bookshop,” he answered easily.

His voice was so surprisingly low that it rattled you to your core. He spoke at an even pace, lulling you. A voice truly perfect for telling any and all stories.

“Of course,” you said as if you knew such information.

“You must be our newest member, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He continued.

“I am.”

“Lord Morpheus.” His outreached hand hovered between you. Quickly, you dropped your bag, and took up his hand. A chill ran through you at the contact of his skin. He bent forward, and kissed your hand. “Pleasure, and I hope your stay here is enjoyed.”

“Thank you for allowing me into your home,” you said with a nervous smile.

Morpheus eyed you for a moment, but moved on. He dropped your hand, and motioned into the manor. “Allow me to show you to your room.”

“Thank you.”

You moved to grab your bags, however, Morpheus was faster - like a viper striking. He had snatched up your bags, carrying them for you. “As the lord of this home, I do believe it falls under my duty to attend to the newest member of our quaint home.”

You wanted to retrieve your bags. “Please, sir, you don’t have to -“

He started to walk inside, ignoring your pleas. “You are under my roof and care, this is nothing.”

He was a nobility. He shouldn’t cave to such droll formalities, but he did. And oddly, your heart raced with your things in his care. You didn’t think he would sneak through your belongings, or withhold them. But, they were your livelihood.

He held your life in his hands.

However, you pushed down such feelings and strolled after him. “Thank you for showing such kindness.”

“Please, it is the least I can do.”

He briskly walked to the back, to the opened double doors in the middle of the two staircases. Walking past, your keen eye did note a door under one of the staircases - a query for another time. The double doors led to a massive dining hall with a long table to fit a dozen or more people. A spacious room had an assortment of plants in the corners and a beautiful rose bouquet in the center of the table. He turned, heading to the back right wing of the manor. Before, following after him, you also caught a vast room up ahead with an abundance of plants decorating the space - a sunroom. The first few stars of the night twinkled through the high arched glass.

“To the left is the kitchen where you are welcome to any food,” Morpheus explained as he walked. “As stated in the job description, you do not have to cook for me, but you must feed yourself. Lucienne usually takes care of the groceries on her way back from the bookshop, so if there is anything special you want just relay that to her.”

“Yes, sir.”

He moved through a swinging door, revealing a hallway veering left or right. “This is mainly the guest quarters, and where you will be staying. Just to inform you, Lucienne does sleep upstairs to help me with the bookshop and company business, so it will be you alone on this side of the manor.”

You nodded, understanding.

He peered over his shoulder to you. “Which room do you want?”

“I am given a choice?” You were slightly taken back.

“You are. This is your home now, and I want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

“Oh, well.” You looked left and right. Windows on either side of the hall revealed what you may see each morning. To the right, it showed the stone structure of the manor with bushes lined along its edges. Most of the light - sunlight or moonlight - would be blocked out. Looking left, you saw the first twinkles of starlight, and a massive forest. Rose hedges ahead glittered under the changing light. You gestured to the door on the far left. “The left one, I suppose.”

Morgues nodded, and turned left. “If you are ever dissatisfied with it at any point, please switch rooms if you so wish.”

He opened the door, quite easily despite the bags in his hands. He stepped back, allowing the space and opportunity to enter first. You thanked him and brushed past him.

It was a quaint room, and bigger than any other you had. It had a rather large bed for just a simple guest room, with plush pillows and soft sheets. There was a wardrobe and drawer for your things, a desk tucked into the corner to write letters or for any other reasons, and a window looking out the back to the forest and - now properly seeing it for the first time - the maze. Walking in, you were in awe at how cozy it all felt. Your fingers skimmed over all the furniture and strolled to the other door on the opposite side. Opening it, it was your own personal bathroom with everything you needed, and more importantly with a massive soaking tub.

“I hope it is to your liking.” You spun around. Morpheus had gently placed your things on the bed, and stayed there for a moment. He glanced around, “I apologize for any dust.”

You waved him off. “I have seen worse, and this is perfect. Thank you.”

He nodded, “Good.”

Silence blanketed over like a bated breath. Morpheus turned his head staring out the window to the flourishing rose maze. He cleared his throat, stepping away from your bed. “I should also inform you of another who lives on the premises: Mervyn. He lives in a small cabin closer to the forest. He tends to the greenhouse and the gardens, mostly a gardener, but if something does break inside the manor he has some knowledge on maintenance.”

You nodded. “Okay, maybe I will introduce myself tomorrow -“

“I would strongly suggest against doing so.”

You tilted your head as your brows furrowed. “Can I ask why?”

Morpheus sighed, bringing his arms behind his back. “He is weary of strangers, and enjoys his solitude. To respect his boundaries, I would advise against it. You may see him out and about, but do leave him in peace.”

“Oh, okay, I understand.” You peered out the window to all the lush flowers and to the willow tree brushing its branches against the window. “But, if he ever needs any assistance please inform him. I will be happy to aid him in any way I can.”

Morpheus eyed you. Not with animosity, but curiosity. You were certainly an oddity, and a breath of fresh air in this purgatory. “I will inform Mervyn if the need arises, but he is protective over his work so I do not expect he will accept it.”

“Understandable.”

“Is there anything else you need?”

“Oh, uh,” you thought for a quick moment, “I suppose hearing about Mervyn, it does raise one question: is there anyone else who lives here that I should know about?”

Yes. “No, it is only the three of us.”

You nodded.

“Excellent, and if that is all.” He turned around to leave.

You stepped forward. “Oh, Lord Morpheus, one more thing.”

“Yes?” He glanced over his shoulder.

“And what of my duties for tomorrow?” You asked. “Where shall I start? And is there anything specific you want done?”

You had his attention, you figured it was better to ask now instead of tomorrow.

He shook his head. “No, in fact, I say explore the manor. Familiarize yourself with it. If you wish to start cleaning you may do say, you are welcome to go into any room. But, I will suggest staying out of Lucienne’s room. She likes her privacy as well.”

You blinked, surprised by his response. But, you mumbled an ‘okay’.

He stepped once, but his foot hovered in the air. He paused, considering your question again. What other duties could he give you, besides cleaning this rotting corpse of a home. “I may call for some tea tomorrow afternoon,” he spoke softly.

You perked up, “Of course.”

He walked away. “Goodnight, and I wish you the best of dreams.”

A smile graced your lips for the first time. “Thank you. And you as well sir, goodnight.”

Morpheus snuck a glance, seeing your smile. He turned away and swiftly walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Taking a breath of peace, you began to unpack your things. You folded and hung up clothes from your bags. Toiletries and other personal items now found new homes. However, one bag remained. Reaching the bottom of almost empty luggage, you pulled out a small handbag. You breathed a sigh of relief and clutched it to your chest, holding it tightly.

This.

This was what frightened you when Morpheus carried your things. It was a small somewhat insignificant bag - only slightly bigger than your forearm, but stuffed to the brim. This worn down bag, with stitches and patches, carried your whole world.

Your two luggage bags carried your life - materialistic needs, and necessities. This bag carried your world - precious memories, irreplaceable items, and a promise. You closed your eyes, and said a small thanks that it was still in your possession. Taking this brief moment, you tucked the bag in the drawer under all your clothes completely hidden, and away from any prying eyes.

Now, you could rest.

You changed into your night clothes, did your nightly routine, then settled into your new bed. Laying down, you stared up at the ceiling.

You were truly here.

You were truly about to change your life.

You knew it.

And while you began to settle into bed, the lord battled with himself.

After leaving your room, he tried to keep a calm exterior. However, as soon as he walked away, he braced himself against the doorway between the main foyer and dining room. He breathed erratically, gulping for air. No. Not for air, for thirst. His throat clenched, begging for a drink, begging to be satiated by you. He gritted his teeth as sweat broke out over his forehead and back of his neck. He clawed at his tie, yanking it down. His clothes were too tight, suddenly very constricting.

“This may be more difficult than anticipated,” he mumbled to himself.

The smell of you consumed him. He was a dying man in a desert, and you his only salvation. And he truly hadn’t had a proper drink in a while.

He pushed himself off the frame, and scrambled over to the door under the grand staircase. Pressing his forehead against the door, thankfully for the coolness, he reached into his vest pocket, pulling out a plain, silver key. The key slipped through his fingers, but the chain easily caught it. He fumbled with the key for a second, constantly dropping it. He swore under his breath.

An outsider looking in would be alarmed.

This wasn’t a man any longer.

No, it was a frantic feral animal, this was a monster in disguise. His fingernails grew in length, sharpening to a point. A perfect weapon to slice into any flesh. His canines also elongated, easy to sink into veins and drink until his feast was complete. His hauntingly blue eyes glowed, eerily so. It was unnatural, and also hypnotizing.

He nearly wanted to rip the door off its hinges. An easy feat. But, he composed himself. Breathing in slowly, the disguise was pulled over once more - the wolf was a sheep again. He took up the key, unlocked the door and darted inside, locking it behind him.

The manor was silent again.

And when Lucienne returned, she would know where to find her lord.

#the sandman #the sandman au #dream of the endless #Morpheus #vampire!dream #vampire!morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #vampire!dream x reader #vampire!morpheus x reader #fem!reader

[twst-vision-of-the-crimson-rose]

Vision Of The Crimson Rose AU

(Made by @klai-16xoxo )

Welcome one and all to the world behind the curtains of reality!

Would you like to accompany Kalim and Riddle to their adventure through what it’s meant to be hidden from the world? And unlock many roads and stories and meets new characters that may or may not seem familiar to you?

If that the case then let’s go! Firstly why not get to know the two main characters a bit?

{Riddle Roseheart}

In this au, Riddle had been raised extra strictly by his mother to the point that his mother had developed an unhealthy obsession of perfection and placed a lot of expectations on him. That why when he started to go blind she didn’t like that and viewed it as a huge flaw… in which she was willing to do anything to get his vision back. So kuch so that with some connection, a mysterious Doctor had offered her a beautiful crimson red eyes to be his, in which she happily agreed… not knowing the dark secrets and event that followed those beautiful Crimson eyes.

Riddle in this au kinda has Abathy. While he has shown fear,anger,compassion and happiness, these would be rare, fleeting and moderate. He dose not fake his emotions tho, so whenever he shows them, they would be 100% genuine, while if he faked them it would be painfully obvious!

{Kalim Al Asim}

Kalim’s past is unclear even for himself, all he knows is that he had been drowned and his eyes had been stolen from him, despite that he somehow able to still use his other senses to move around and interact with his surroundings. It is only when Riddle had claimed his eyes that he finally can see again but through Riddle’s POV, Kalim want to uncover more about his past and would do anything to achieve this goal!

As for his personality… well it is pretty much just like the one in the game, he such a kind soul and always try to look at the bright side of things but deep down there is more to him then meet the eyes.

{referring and small facts}

// this au is still under work and tbh I made it for fun and it story still being worked at, meaning I am just going with the wind! All I know this au is like a horror rpg games like pocket mirror, mad father and so one! Tho I had a lot of help from @sleepy-meep when making this au so thank you bestie🫶 anyway let me just attack ye all with random facts!

// as for the fact, there so many bu I would not say all of them but here are few!

Riddle in this au may have abathy but tbh he such a sweet heart and a lil silly but I like to imagine him like Rachel from Angels of Death.

Kalim actually basically fucking Paimon from genshin lol he make sure to guide Riddle around and tell him all he knows… which surprisingly is a lot.

In the au, the two would go literally behind the curtains of reality and to multiple realms that is ruled by different Wardens and each one had it different themed

There this one character titled as “The Archiver” and the most powerful character in the au that oversees everything in the realms (also he is my twst oc, Takara lol you can learn all about him from my blog @klai-16xoxo )

In this au, NRC dose not really matter that much at, since the boys didn’t even go to it soooo~ yeah! I am not even sure if it dose exist hahah

Kalim can beet ass and wouldn’t hesitate, keep ya hand off Riddle ò<ó

Sometimes I would open an event where a “Love DLC” happen where you can romance the characters that or have Riddle do it or any other characters you ship but keep in mind that some would not be answered if I find them inappropriate!

This blog is like a side blog for me and idk if I would be that much active in it but I would try my best!

I am not the best writers so if I wrote down some stuff they may not be that good so forgive me!

#TWST VOTCR AU #riddle rosehearts #kalim al asim #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland au #twst au

[stormgardenscurse]

Fanbook WIP: Heartslabyul

About: Below is an excerpt from my twst fanbook! It's still unedited and a work in progress, but I thought it'd be nice to share these as sneak peeks! Fanbook concept: surrounding the theme of 'isekai', the fanbook will contain long oneshots focused on each of the twst dorms! Each dorm will have their own novel/manhwa concept. The main idea is that Reader is from another world and dropped in, either as themselves or taking the form of a character already existing in that world. In this excerpt, we have Heartslabyul! There won't be a direct romance in these oneshots, but I'll do my best to give each guy screentime - as Riddle is a significant character here though, he might have more presence in the overall plot. If you would like to be alerted when I finally open preorders for this fanbook, feel free to reply to this post asking to be tagged! Hopefully I'll be able to open them sometime in November 2023.

“What are we going to do…?” You say more to yourself than the brown rabbit, petting its head. Its soft fur calms you a little. “If I’m Alice, that means the rest of the characters might be out there too.”

In the story, Alice used to be the childhood friend of Riddle Rosehearts, who was placed under intense pressure as the crown prince of the kingdom. Somewhere along their youth, Alice—the child of an old noble house—mysteriously disappeared during one of their playdates. Ever since, the thorns that surrounded Riddle’s life only tightened more as he grew.

Eventually, he started to blame things on the inadequacy of others once he became the ‘perfect’ image of a ruler. Knowing how strict the ruling Queen is, you don’t doubt his mother was a large part of this development—but at the end of the day, Riddle’s actions could only be held accountable to himself.

By the time Alice reappeared in the kingdom, it was too late for them to convince Riddle about the errors of his ways. As his tyranny went on, and the day of the crowning ceremony drew near… Alice begrudgingly joined the rebel forces in the Rose Kingdom to overthrow the crown. They’d hoped to simply free Riddle by the end, but his unexpected outrage and severity led to a final battle that ended with his death. In the arms of the knights and the protagonist, his face finally relaxed into one of the small smiles he’d wear as a child—tentative of the expression, but cautiously hopeful.

But looking at your appearance now, it seemed like 'Alice' was younger than you recall from the story.

Perhaps this meant you still had the chance to right those missed chances, and bring the story to a close that isn’t bathed in crimson petals.

Just what happened between the time ‘you’ were missing, which pushed Riddle to such lengths of perfection?

Were the knights Trey Clover and Cater Diamond already in service?

And what of Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade?

Heaving out a sigh, you surprise the rabbit by shifting your legs so that you could lay with your back against the ground. There were too many things to do, and too many questions about how you found yourself here. 

The sky is blue. It’s gentle on the eyes—the same shade of the Carrolls’ coat of arms.

‘I’m back, Mother.’ 

Would that be too anticlimactic of a greeting? Perhaps you should simply pretend to faint at the city’s border. You think that’s how Alice was found anyways, dramatic protagonist they were.

#as usual the fanbook is a reader insert #but with gender neutral they/them pronouns used throughout #twst heartslabyul #twst x reader #twst reader insert

[theboywithburninghands]

When the sun hasn't risen yet, that means it's time for Funnybunny. Okay, so this is a story inspired by @rottentricks' excellent Murder Mystery AU, and it's very different from anything else I've published so far. It's a murder mystery/horror/romance... thing, so things will get dark. I'll include trigger warnings as always (and there are a lot this time eesh), but otherwise, enjoy! Go follow @rottentricks! T/W: Murder, gore, mentions of suicide, fantasy racism, tobacco use Animals Chapter 1: Pigs

You house-proud town mouse

Ha, ha, charade you are…

—

Autumnvale, population 956 at the last census. Diverse population of humans and animalfolk. A large agricultural community. Several murders for a town its size. 

In a bigger city, the murder rate of Autumnvale would be about average, perhaps slightly higher. In a small town? It was abnormally large. And the baffling thing was, no one could put their finger on the exact reasons why. There was no organized crime in the area, and the poverty rate hovered around a meager 3.5%. It seemed that things simply had a tendency to spiral out of control around the town, and fast.

Most of it could be attributed to the Nightwalkers, vicious apex predators that stalked the outskirts of town after dark in the winter months. A few foolish out-of-towers or staggering drunks ended up wandering the village after curfew over the years. These same people were found the next morning, or rather, shredded scraps of their clothes and the occasional picked clean bone were found in patches of crimson-soaked snow the next morning. 

But even with this avoidable danger, there were… “incidents.” Autumnvale’s mayor, Caine Mason, insisted that any casualties were referred to as “incidents” until proven otherwise. In fairness, he was occasionally correct. A young man who fell off a roof he was trying to fix and broke his neck was an incident, or a woman that stepped on a rusty nail and died from lockjaw two weeks later was an incident. But, there were times when even their silver-tongued mayor had no choice but to declare something much more suspicious than an “incident.”

Gangle, the owner of the local black box theater, was out for her morning walk in early January. When the sun rose to a safe enough height that the Nightwalkers slunk back to the woods, the ribbon-woman would go for a walk around town, practicing her lines aloud. It helped her remember them better if she actually got a chance to say them. That was the funny thing about plays. Just reading them lost almost 80% of their essence, you needed to perform them, or at the very least, watch a performance.

“‘There is none worthy, respecting her that's gone. Besides, the gods will have fulfill'd their secret purposes-’” she spoke angrily. She then paused, looked at her lines again, and tried them again in a more heartbroken tone. She hummed and read the rest of her monologue. 

They were doing Shakespeare’s A Winter’s Tale to celebrate the cold season’s onset. Gangle was playing Paulina, who was always her favorite character in that play. A lady who had the guts to stand up to a paranoid king… pretty inspiring stuff. 

A crow flapped its way over to the nearby signpost, where the town map was held, grappling with something in its beak, a large berry with the stem still attached. Gangle smiled at the large black bird. 

“How now, why comes ye here, envoy of the night?” she said, giggling at her imitation of Elizabethean writing. “You find something good to eat, buddy? Whatcha got?” 

She looked a little closer at what the crow was holding. It was shiny and mostly white, the stem a pinkish-red. What sort of berry was white this time of year?

The crow flipped the object around in its beak to get a better grip. Gangle put a ribbon to her mouth. A black spot rimmed with a circle of blue sat on the other side of the object. 

An eyeball. The crow had someone’s pretty blue eye clutched in its beak. 

“Oh my god…” Gangle whispered. The crow blinked a beady eye at her before flying off to the treeline at the end of the path. There, an entire murder of crows had gathered, croaking and squawking irritably at one another and clambering over an object up in the branches. They pecked bits of red offal from the central mass and swallowed them in a few toothless gulps. 

Gangle hugged her libretto close to her body, turned and ran for the center of town. 

—

Pomni woke up hungry. That was pretty common for most people, but it was becoming annoyingly common for her to open her eyes, regain some semblance of consciousness, and for her stomach to immediately let out a ghastly, soupy rumble. Pomni growled right back it, throwing her quilt off of her body. 

“Ugh, I know, shut uuuuuup.” 

She rolled out of bed, wincing at how cold the wooden floor was on her bare feet. Her studio apartment had a radiator by her bed at the very least, but that did nothing to warm up the rest of it. Her pajamas, a pair of charcoal gray sleep shorts and a pastel yellow university t-shirt weren’t exactly warm either. She dreaded how cold the toilet seat was going to be…

She performed her necessaries (the seat was unsurprisingly freezing), brushed her teeth and hair, took her medication, then went back to her bed, taking her quilt and wrapping herself up. She checked her watch. 9:17.

Her studio apartment was Spartan, but clean and free of bugs. The main room consisted of her bed by the radiator at the far side. On the right wall, the door to her closet of a bathroom and a tiny kitchenette with a gas stove and sink. On the left, her desk and easel, the slotted doors to her pantry, and her clothes closet. 

When she took this graduate assistantship, she hadn’t expected the ritz, but it really sucked to experience the January chill. Autumnvale was a great little town, but it was stupidly cold and dark in the winter. Full dark fell around the 7 PM curfew, and if she wasn’t back in her room with the door shut and barred by then, she was apparently at risk of running into Nightwalkers, whatever the hell those were. With a name like that, they definitely were to be avoided… 

She opened the slotted doors of her pantry, where she also had her built-in ironing board that she never used and trash can. She reached on her tiptoes to grab her tote of dry food and snacks from the top shelf. Maybe some trail mix or some crackers would tide her over for a bit so she could stay in and draw-

Nothing. She was out of dry food. The only thing that remained were a few packets of ketchup and mayo leftover from the last time she got a sandwich at the café. She made a sort of warble of defeat and rested her forehead on the tote. Nothing to eat. Nothing to tide her over so she could draw. Drawing. You know, the thing her school was fucking paying her for-

“Screw it.”

She grabbed all the packets of sauce and squirted them into her mouth, white and red mixing together into a pink mess that she swallowed in one go. She licked her lips.

“…Not terrible. Not filling though…”

She sighed. She would have to go get something from the café. She liked the café, especially the waitress Ragatha, but she was behind on her drawings. She had a chiaroscuro drawing to do in pencil by the end of the week, and she was running behind on the acrylic painting due in February. It may be January, but those took time! 

Ugh. Fine, whatever. She’d go to the café quickly and order the cheapest thing on the menu. What was that, toast? She could eat toast. …Maybe she could eat more than toast. Nothing too pricey, waffles or French toast and a coffee at most. She needed to have enough in her piggy bank to purchase more supplies if she ran out. She was getting a little bit low on green paint, since landscapes, wouldn’t you know it, needed a lot of green. 

She sighed and stretched, her stomach gurgling again.

“I just gave you eggs, vinegar and tomato paste, pipe down!” Pomni groused. You really became aware of how demanding your stomach was when you didn’t have someone around making sure you ate three square meals every day.

Pomni opened her closet, taking off her pajamas. She put her undergarments in the hamper but set her shirt and sleep shorts aside. If they smelled clean, there wasn’t much point in only wearing them for one night, that just filled the laundry basket faster. She put on some fresh underwear and tugged on a long sleeve black shirt and some insulated black snow pants. She covered her shirt with a white zip-up wool fleece, and for the third layer, her off-white puffer jacket. She pulled on some thermal socks and her black snow boots, and finally put on her gray university beanie. Getting dressed just to go outside in the winter was exhausting, but this would hopefully be the only time she’d have to. She slung her purse over her shoulder and pulled the board blocking her door loose, setting it down carefully, then she turned the deadbolt and slid the door chain out of its track, opening the door to the outside. 

Pomni’s breath rose in puffs of vapor as she locked the door to her apartment. It had snowed a few inches that weekend and hadn’t quite warmed up enough to melt anything, so the ground and the rooftops were still blanketed with white. She carefully took the steps down from the second floor, gripping the cold wood railing. Her landlord was good about salting the steps, but she was convinced one of these days she might slip on a hidden patch of ice and smash her tailbone, so she always clung to the railing. Once she reached the ground she breathed a steaming sigh of relief and crunched down the road. 

She heard the commotion coming from town about halfway up the road. Was there an open-air market today? It seemed too cold for that… she walked a little bit faster. She hurried past the farms, where piebald cows grazed and flicked their tails in the snowy pastures. Pomni sometimes liked to stop and pet them if they were close enough, but not today. She turned the corner onto Autumnvale’s main road, and saw the telltale blue and red lights emanating from the main square. 

She gulped, wiping her cold, damp nose on her pocket handkerchief, and walked a little closer to the hullabaloo. Townsfolk were gathered on the main road’s sidewalks, some talking worriedly to each other in small groups, others staring at the commotion up ahead. The forest edge at the far side of the road was cordoned off by yellow tape tied to orange and silver plastic pylons. A few men and women in blue jackets and silver badges stood around the perimeter, a few of them talking with civilians. Behind the tape, three men were talking to the ribbon-woman that ran the theater, Pomni couldn’t quite remember her name. She looked very shaken up and might have been crying, but it was too far away to tell.

“Pomni? Is that you, hun?”

A familiar voice made the art student spin about. Ragatha hurried across the road towards her, carefully to avoid slipping on the icy snow. Pomni almost didn’t recognize Ragatha out of her usual waitress uniform, but the patch over her right eye tipped her off. She had on an elegant purple peacoat with black buttons and a Pompom hat dappled with white and pink. Her rich red curls bounced as she approached Pomni. 

“Hey hun… You okay?” she said, her warm and pleasant voice tinged with worry. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s all this..? I just got here.” Pomni asked.

Ragatha let out a sigh with a pained expression. “Oh, Pomni, it’s horrible. Did you ever meet Kaufmo?” 

“No?” 

“He’s… He was a comedian, he would do shows at Gangle’s playhouse sometimes. But he struggled a ton with all different sorts of things, you know, mental issues and… and he…”

Ragatha’s eye welled up with tears and she stifled a sob with a pink-gloved hand.

“Oh no…” Pomni had never heard of Kaufmo, but seeing Ragatha like this immediately motivated her to throw her arms around her friend. The taller woman hugged Pomni back, squeezing her tight against her shaking chest. Pomni hated hugging people, or letting anyone into her personal space if she could help it. Her shrink told her it had something to do with unwanted stimulation, whatever that meant. 

Wasn’t wholly unpleasant. Ragatha was nice and warm, and smelled good. She might ask for a hug again sometime. 

Ragatha eventually let go and wiped her eye on the back of her glove. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to just fall apart like that… I guess you never expect something like this to actually happen until it does. Poor Gangle was the one that found him… I closed the café as soon as I heard…”

“No, I completely understand.” Pomni said, but swore to the heavens internally. It was a rotten, selfish thought, but she was really banking on grabbing a quick breakfast and going back home to work. 

“Do you need anything, Pomni? Have you eaten?” Ragatha asked, wiping her eyes again. 

“Uh… No, I’m-I’m fine.” Pomni replied, despite her stomach lurching in despair. Ragatha was in no state to be working right now, no matter how painfully stupid hungry she was. Oh god, she was hungry…

Ragatha nodded. “Okay. I’m gonna head home and lay down. I’ll call you and let you know if I’m feeling well enough to open the café tomorrow. Bye for now, honey.”

“Bye, Ragatha. Sorry about all this.” Pomni replied. 

The redhead gave a fragile smile before sniffing loudly, either from the cold or her tears, clearing her throat and heading down the sidewalk with her hands in her coat pockets.

Pomni watched her friend go for a moment before looking back at the crime scene. A suicide… How horrible. She couldn’t even fathom how awful it must be for the people who were close to Kaufmo. Or for Kaufmo himself. Everything being so empty and black for him that the only option was… She trembled a little just imagining sinking to a place like that.

“You know what the cops are saying, right?” 

Pomni jumped a bit when a wolfman appeared at her side. He was a good six feet tall, black fur with a notch in his ear. Curiously, he also had an eyepatch, although it wasn’t nearly as elegant as Ragatha’s, being plain brown leather. He put a cigarette in his teeth, sparking a match with a single flick of his thumb-claw.

“Uh… no, I don’t. What are they, um… saying?” 

The wolf lit his cigarette and shook out his match, flicking the burnt out remnants into the snow. He took a long drag, the end lighting up orange, and expelled the two jets of smoke out of his nostrils. Pomni waved her hand in front of her face. Cigarettes smelled goddamn nasty.

“Short drop and a sudden stop,” the wolf said, making a tugging motion above his neck and making a mock choking noise from his throat. “They said the crows were going at him by the time they found his body up a tree.”

Pomni frowned. She didn’t want to be near this bozo anymore. “Thank you for telling me that.” she said dryly, before walking further into the crowd. The wolf with the eyepatch watched her leave a moment before spitting onto the road and taking another pull on his cigarette.

Pomni slipped in between people, looking for somewhere, anywhere, where she could find some food. She had gone whole days without food in the past, but she regretted it every time. She never got any good artwork done when her mind was flashing her favorite foods in delicious technicolor through her brain, and her stomach hurt so badly she would sometimes just lay down and hold herself. By the end, she would feel like she was floating a couple inches off the ground, and would scarf down one of those Hungry Man specials at the café, meant for workers pulling a 14 hour shift at a sawmill. The kind with three fluffy pancakes with butter and hot syrup and two golden over easy eggs on toast, and hot, juicy sausage and crispy bacon and crunchy hashbrowns that went perfectly with ketchup… UGH, she was so hungry! 

She looked at any of the shops on the street for something to eat, until her eyes fell onto the sign on one building

Kingston Charcuterie 

Beef, Pork, Poultry, Lamb 

Made fresh daily

Bingo. 

Pomni entered the butcher shop, the bell above her tinkling. She stomped the snow off her boots on the welcome mat. She wasn’t much of a meat eater, but options were slim and she was hungry. She wanted a big sandwich, maybe roast beef or chicken with the works, lettuce, tomatoes, Mayo or mustard, maybe some horseradish if it was a roast beef sandwich, all served on a big fat Kaiser roll… ugh, that would hit the spot. 

The shop appeared to be empty at the moment. A few prime cuts of meat sat in a display cabinet. A brisket, a London broil, a big T-bone steak she could never afford, a long chain of sausage links… She touched the plastic case longingly. Her stomach made a hideous noise. 

She stood up and looked over the counter. There were a few white paper bags in a neat stack, presumably for putting customer orders in. A knife set hung on some hooks beside a stack of cutting boards, sitting washed and damp in a deep-basin sink. One of the cleavers had a blade that looked like it was bigger than Pomni’s head. For cutting up elephants, should the need arise. 

Her eyes fell upon a bell with a sign next to it. “Ring for service.” Pomni stood on her toes and pressed the bell. It made a satisfying tingggggg sound. She would have pressed it multiple times if her superego had allowed it. 

“Um, hello? Anyone there?” Pomni peeked around the counter as best she could. There appeared to be a door leading out back, but it was shut. Maybe the owner was out there? 

She rang the bell again. “Excuse me? I’m sorry to bother you, but you’re the only open shop right now. Could I please get something to eat?” 

She thought she heard a voice from outside.

“Uh… w-what?”

“I said ‘I’m outside!’” came a voice so deep it was almost subterranean. “Come on back, I don’t like yelling across my shop.”

Pomni gulped. Aw, crap… If she wasn’t so famished, she’d probably have said “That’s okay, I’ll come back later!” and left, never to return. She hated having to jump through hurdles at stores. It always made her really uncomfortable when some poor employee had to do extra work just for her. Pay, say thank you, get out, that was her motto.

But her stomach overpowered her nerves, and she opened the counter hatch and headed towards the closed back door.

The person behind the door barked out another order. “You need gloves and a hairnet! They’re by the door.”

Pomni looked around, and saw a pair of boxes, one full of disposable clear plastic gloves and the other nylon hairnets. Pomni removed her beanie and put it in her coat pocket, sliding on the hairnet and putting on the gloves. It took a second since two fingers kept slipping into one finger hole, but she got it after a few tries. She then swallowed and opened the door to the outside. She promptly gasped.

Outside appeared to be a small courtyard behind the back of a barn. The double doors hung open, and inside, the barn appeared to have been converted into a meat cutting room. A frozen pig carcass hung from a chain on the ceiling, upside down and neatly split open down the middle. Its insides had been carefully removed and placed into bloody buckets, one for the heart, kidneys and other small organs, one for the liver and two for the intestines. The butcher himself was busily working on removing one of the dead pig’s back legs, carefully yet firmly cutting off the choicest bits of meat to place in another bucket.

The butcher appeared to be a purple rabbitman, wide and tall. He stood a little over six feet, burly chested and with thick forearms. He had on a brown butcher’s smock and thick black rubber gloves, both garments sticky with blood, over a white collared shirt and white pants with heavy, steel toed boots. He had his long ears tied off in a hairnet. He finished carving off the pig’s flank, blood dribbling out of the fresh wound and into a drainage grate on the floor. He placed the frozen flank, the leg still attached, into a waiting bucket, then turned to look at Pomni. 

His eyes were a penetrating lunar yellow with black pupils. His nose appeared to be hidden under purple fur. He smiled, revealing a set of huge, fanglike teeth that seemed to be almost endless in number.

“How can I help you this morning, dear customer?~” he rumbled. His voice was like a growling alligator. 

“Uh-” Pomni began. “Uh- a-are you- uh- are you open?” Smooth. 

“Sign says open, right?” the butcher rumbled. He rinsed the knife he had been using to cut off the pig’s flank in a nearby hot tap and put it back in the knife block. He traded it for a massive cleaver, twirling it in his paw. 

“Uh… well yeah, you just weren’t at your… uh… counter.” 

“Most people don’t come ‘til noon. Lunch rush. You must be craving it bloody.” 

He said this with another razortooth grin. His lupine eyes reminded Pomni of Little Red Riding Hood. “My, grandmother, what big eyes you have.” …Did that make her Little Red? At least this guy didn’t want to eat her. Hopefully. He must have been a crossbreed, since she’d never seen a rabbit person with teeth like that.

“I’m… really hungry. Uh, and you’re open. And the café is closed- did you hear about what happened?”

The butcher reared back and chopped into the pig’s other leg with the cleaver, making a loud and meaty THWOCK sound. 

“Yup. It was the comedian, right? Sucks to hear.” 

“Yeah… uh, do you-“

The butcher took another mighty swing with his cleaver, and there was a clean snap sound. He must have cut right through a bone, how strong did you have to be to slice through a damn bone in one go…?

“Do I what?” The butcher grunted. 

“Do you recommend anything?” Pomni finished. 

This earned her another shark-like smile from the butcher. 

“You gotta be a little more specific than that. You talking about my preferred meat? My preferred cut? My favorite method of cooking?” 

Another huge swing and snap, and the butcher exhaled, rinsing off his cleaver at the hot tap before getting the swapping it for the smaller knife. He examined the blade, tutted and removed a sharpening rod from the block as well, scraping the knife on it. 

Pomni swallowed. “Erm… I guess… Damn, I don’t know. I didn’t think there’d be a ton of options. I was kinda just hoping to get a sandwich…” 

“That’s the best part of butchery. So many options, no waste. Take a look at Wilbur here.” The butcher nudged the pig carcass with the handle of his sharpening rod, which swung lazily. “I’m not throwing any of him away. His shoulder? I can make steak and mince out of it. His loin? Spare ribs, rib racks and pork chops. His legs? Diced pork, stir-fry, leg steak, and more. When I clean off all his pork and ham, I’m gonna sell his bones to be ground into fertilizer, and I’m gonna see if they can make his trotters into gelatin. I can even make honeycomb tripe out of his stomach and sell his other vitals to make dog food. He’s feeding dozens of people and animals, and helping farmers too.”

Pomni’s stomach ached at the descriptions of meat the butcher described. What she wouldn’t give to sink her teeth into a hot, juicy pork chop with applesauce right about now… But she was also pleasantly surprised at how resourceful this fellow was. As he got back to work cutting off the flank, she observed how nimble and delicate his knife work was. It reminded her of how she used a pencil or a brush or a palette knife to create her sketches and paintings. 

He was an artist. Just in a different and decidedly more morbid way. 

“Uh, to tell you the truth Mister, uh… Mister Kingston, I-”

The butcher let out a dark chortle. It would have been spine-chilling to hear a laugh like that in the dark.

“Nah. Mr. Kingston is my dad. I’m Jax. What’s your name?”

“Uh… Pomni. I’m a grad student. I’m here on an art scholarship, I’m renting that apartment past the farms.”

The butcher, evidently named Jax, tilted his head back.

“Ahhhh.~ Art, huh? Interesting. Who’s your favorite artist?” 

Pomni blinked. She expected the reaction she always got when people learned her major. “What kind of work can you get with an art degree?” You know, the one thing you DON’T ask a student? But she was completely disarmed by this question. 

“Uh… Oh, gosh, um… I uh…” she stammered. 

“I’m a fan of darker stuff, personally. Big surprise. You know Francis Bacon? He’s a favorite of mine. Not just ‘cause of his name.” Jax let out that same dark chuckle. 

Pomni giggled, both from surprise and from the bad pun. She really hadn’t expected to be so charmed by this guy, especially since he had on an apron damp with pig’s blood. Plus, how many people had she met that could just casually mention Francis Bacon..? Okay, several, but most of them were artists like her. 

“Um… since we’re talking about bacon, do you think I could order that sandwich..? I think I know what I want now.” Pomni said.

“Sure. Lemme just wrap things up here and-”

Inside the shop, the bell above the door jangled and several pairs of feet clomped on the wood floor. 

“Mr. Kingston? This is Chief Detective Sutler, Autumnvale Police Department. Are you in?”

Pomni felt her heart skip a beat. Oh god, the police? She couldn’t handle the cops right now. She had work she needed to do, if they pulled her in for questioning, she could be stuck in some dingy interrogation room for hours… She thought about running, but there was only one way in or out of the butcher shop. She gulped and looked at Jax. He rolled his eyes and put a gloved hand on his hip, his left hand still holding the French knife he was using to remove the choicest bits of meat from the pig. 

“Yeah, I’m in the back. Gloves and a hairnet, please.” he shouted.

Pomni had to stop herself from crying out “NO DON’T!” The footsteps were moving towards the back door, oh no, where could she-?

There were three wooden barrels on the left wall of the courtyard, about four feet tall each. They were stamped in green ink across the front. 

Sinclair Fertilizer Plant 

Attn: Jurgis Žukauskas

1370 Ellabell Pkwy

Dock 3

Autumnvale, 204863.

She could easily hide behind those if she crouched. So Pomni hastily backstepped and then ducked behind the barrels. Jax watched her out of the corner of one of his moonlike eyes before he walked forward a bit, past the barrels, so the detectives wouldn’t walk past them and catch a glimpse of her.

She prayed her growling stomach wouldn’t give her away.

“And how can I help you gentlemen today?” she heard Jax say. 

“Good morning, Mr. Kingston. These are my colleagues, Detective Sergeants Beauregard and Wexley.” the first detective, Pomni remembered his name was Sutler, said.

“Morning to you both. I’m assuming you're here about what happened to Kaufmo.” Jax rumbled.

“Yes we are, unfortunately. We found him deceased at the edge of the woods this morning. He was hung by his neck from a pine tree.” 

Pomni heard Jax sigh. 

“Yeah. It’s a damn shame. He made a lot of people happy over the years. Me included. You ever hear his routine about the diner?”

“I’m afraid not,” Sutler continued. “But I agree that his death was a tragedy.”

“Death. You mean suicide?” Jax inquired.

“Well you see, Mr. Kingston-” Sutler began.

“Jax.”

“Mr. Kingston,” Sutler continued. “There’s a detail we’ve been trying to keep hidden from the public. Mr. Kaufmo wasn’t just hung. His arms were slit open, elbow to palm.”

“Fuck,” Jax replied. “That’s grim. Why keep it a secret though? I’ve heard of people taking multiple different options to end their lives if the first fails. Sad but true.”

“Because the coroner informed us that, from the angle of the wounds, it looks like those cuts weren’t self-inflicted.” 

There was a pause. Pomni shivered.

“So, you think someone sliced open his arms, bled him out and hung him from a tree to make it look like a suicide?” Jax said after a moment. “Okay. So why come to me?”

One of the other detectives spoke up. He had an accent from the big city. “Because we found this, about a hundred feet away, hidden under a rock.”

Pomni peered through a tiny gap in the barrels. The detectives, two men and one goat, stood in a semicircle. Sutler, the leader, was a man with silvery hair, steely brown eyes and a handlebar mustache over his upper lip. He had on a long, tan duster. The other two, Beauregard and Wexley, she wasn’t sure which was which, were in blue cop parkas. The human was a slightly heavyset man with a wide mouth and a beanie displaying his badge, and the goat was in a brown ushanka with the ear flaps down, rainbow-tinted aviators over his eyes and a toothpick in his teeth. None of them had put on gloves or hairnets.

The heavyset cop held a large plastic evidence baggie containing a carving knife and some flecks of dirt. 

“That’s one of your knives, right?” The goat officer said, flicking his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.

“I’m not sure, maybe.” Jax replied evenly. “I’ll have to check the make. But you do know I sell knives in my shop, right? Doesn’t mean it belongs to me.” 

“No one is accusing you of anything, Mr. Kingston.” Sutler said, raising his hands. “But if it did come from your shop, we need to know. Do you want to take a look?”

“Yeah, lemme see.” Jax took a step towards the officers, but they tensed, the goat officer even hovering a hand over his sidearm. 

“After you put that knife down, Mr. Kingston.” Sutler said, nodding towards the French knife Jax held in his left paw, still stained with blood. 

“Ahhh, I’m sorry, officers. Didn’t mean to frighten you.” Jax said, his tone poisonously sweet. “Here.” 

The rabbitman turned and threw the knife through the open barn door, where it landed with a noisy clang into the sink beneath the hot tap. 

“Bullseye. That better?” Jax replied, smiling wide enough to show each and every one of his fangs. 

The heavyset cop shook his head and handed the butcher the evidence bag. Jax took it and examined it carefully, holding it up to the light, turning it this way and that. 

“Hmmm… yup, this does seem like one of mine. I get these special from the ironworks. You can tell ‘cause the blade will shimmer like the surface of a bubble in the light.” 

Jax handed the wide-mouthed cop back the evidence bag. “You can have a look at my sales log if you want, that’ll tell you everyone that’s bought a knife within the past year at least.”

“What time was sunrise this morning, Beauregard?” the goat officer asked. 

“Safe sunlight started around 7:23 AM.” the officer with the evidence bag replied. 

“Where were you starting around that time, Mr. Kingston?” the goat officer, Wexley by process of elimination, asked. 

Jax looked up at the sky, muttering to himself. “Well, let’s see. I get up around six, have my coffee and breakfast, feed the animals in the barn… get here around 7:45… 7:23 AM…that would put me around my house, on the main highway, near the Snapfinger Creek bridge. Roughly.”

Pomni was, again, impressed. She never kept track of the time that closely unless she had an assignment due. Knowing your whole routine down to the minute without a watch, that took brainpower.

“Can anyone place you there?” Sutler asked. 

“Doubt it. Didn’t see many people out yet and I live by myself.” Jax replied. 

“Convenient, but unsurprising.” Wexley said.

Pomni felt a hot wash of anger. They were already accusing Jax. Probably because they thought they were alone with him. Maybe it was her already being irritable from not eating, but she felt the words bubbling up her throat before she could swallow them back down.

“Hey!”

The officers and Jax all turned towards the barrels, Wexley’s smirk disappearing.

“The hell..?” Beauregard muttered. 

Pomni got up and walked out into the courtyard. She was acutely aware of her stature, but she was too upset to care.

“Did you dust that for prints?” she demanded. 

“Miss?” Sutler inquired.

“I said, did you dust for prints? Fingerprints! On the knife. You’re supposed to do that, aren’t you? You’re cops!” 

The detectives looked at each other, then back to Pomni. 

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Beauregard asked.

“A customer. Jax was supposed to be making me something to eat until you three showed up.”

“Why were you behind those barrels?” Wexley inquired, seeming mildly amused.

“Because I’m afraid of you. I don’t trust cops, especially not racist cops.” she glowered at Wexley, her fists balled up.

“Woah-ho-ho.” Wexley held his hands up, smirking again. 

“Miss, are you the grad student living by the farms?” Sutler asked.

“Ah, college kid. That makes sense.” Wexley added.

“I’m 25.” Pomni snapped.

“Be that as it may, Miss, we can’t have civilians at a police interview. Would you mind stepping outside?”

“I am outside.”

“Don’t get smart with the Captain, Miss.” Beauregard ordered. 

“Why? What are you gonna do? Arrest me?! For what? Hiding from you? Talking back? Calling out your- EEP!” 

A paw that could cover her entire face came down firmly on her shoulder. Jax had removed his butcher’s glove and set his right paw on her shoulder. 

“Your order is ready inside, ma’am. It’s on the house. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Pomni looked up (holy SHIT he was huge) at Jax. His frightening eyes were… soft. Grateful, even. Was she blushing? Her face was really warm. 

“Take whatever. Thank you.” he mouthed, winking. 

Okay now she was certainly blushing- 

She shot one more withering look at the cops before rushing into the butcher shop. 

She had to be quick before the cops tried dragging her off for “obstruction” or “hurting their feelings, boo-hoo.” She removed her gloves and shoved them in her pocket, then looked inside the counter from behind, deciding on a flank steak that was big, but not as enormous as that T-bone steak. She picked up some sandwich paper from a box on the counter and grabbed it. It was cold against her fingers, and quite heavy. She dropped it into a paper bag with a heavy thump. It made her mouth water thinking about cooking it medium-rare at home…

She didn’t want to leave Jax behind, but there was unfortunately nothing she could do. If she got herself arrested, even without a conviction, the university might cancel her scholarship. Still, what business did those stupid thugs with badges have to be such assholes to Jax?! Sure, she didn’t know him very well, but he was polite to her, and was giving her free food! And… he wasn’t terrible to look at either. Maybe it was the height… or the voice. Or the muscles- Ack, no, she was supposed to be mad! Hangry! Very hangry! 

It must have been because he was a crossbreed. No, it was definitely because he was a crossbreed. 

Crossbreeds, sometimes called nasty things like “half-breeds,” “troglodytes” or, most simple and horrible of all, “mutts,” were a mix of different species. It was perfectly possible to interbreed, but they had been treated like third-class citizens for years. Crossbreed children were dumped into foster care or “forgotten” on street corners. Crossbreed adults were shunned by the general public and forbidden from moving into certain neighborhoods. Why? Prejudice, plain and simple. Racist people liked to think that being part animal made you more prone to animalistic behavior, or that if you were two different kinds of animal, it somehow corrupted the “purity” of one another’s DNA. Ugh, it made her want to puke. Just because someone was part wolf, or part sheep, or part human, didn’t mean they didn’t deserve a loving family, and friends, and enough to eat just like everyone else. 

She stepped out of the butcher shop, looking back at the door sorrowfully. She took her hairnet off and replaced it with her university beanie. Maybe she could call someone? Who did she know? They did find his knife, but that could have been anyone that planted it there. She was a little biased, admittedly, but- 

“Hey short stuff.” 

Pomni jumped and spun around. That wolf from before was back. He had smoked most of his cigarette down to the filter. 

“Hello,” Pomni replied coolly. 

“So, you went to see the cannibal, huh?” the wolf asked.

Pomni’s brow furrowed. “Cute nickname. Can you get outta my way?”

“It’s not a nickname. Jax eats little bunnies. First he hits them with a metal rod, then he peels the-”

“Sir!” Pomni snapped.

“Trevor,” The wolf replied, offering a paw to shake. Pomni only stared at it. Trevor sniffed and put the fingers back onto his cigarette.

“Is there anything else you wanted to say? Or are we done here?” Pomni said with a glare. 

“Yeah. I wanted to warn you. Jax there has a penchant for violence. Did you know he gave me this when we were just nine years old?” Trevor tapped his eyepatch. 

“But why did he give you that?” Pomni asked, narrowing her eyes. 

“Beats the hell outta me. We were just playing and-” Trevor held up his claws and crinkled his muzzle in a mock snarl. 

“Uh huh. You know, seeing as how your sense of humor revolves around making fun of suicidal people, I find it a little hard to believe your story.”

Pomni walked around Trevor. “Now if you’ll excuse me- I’m going home to make brunch.” 

She crunched through the snow, not bothering to look behind her. Trevor dropped his cigarette on the ground and stomped it out, smearing a bit of ash on the road. A few cops still milled about the crime scene, keeping civilians away. A crow watched them from a nearby rooftop.

#the amazing digital circus #funnybunny #jax x pomni #tadc jax #tadc pomni #tadc ragatha #tadc gangle #murder mystery au #tadc kaufmo #tw suicide #rottentricks #by far the edgiest thing i've written so far #oh no cringe #tadc

[mysticstarlightduck]

Notice Me, Reader! Tag

Thanks for the tag, @tabswrites!

Rules: Share 3 (or more!) small details from your WIP that you feel have gone/will go unnoticed. (You can choose whether or not to share why the detail is significant!)

I'll share some sneaky details from Tales of Wilted Flowers and Realms of Loss (:

Tales of Wilted Flowers -

Lorelai's name means "alluring enchantress", and usually a name with a meaning related to sirens that lure people to their doom. That name fits well the way the kingdom views her House, as "conniving traitors", but also has a hint of mystery that implies that not all is what it seems. (The idea for this name also came to me after listening to Loreley by Blackmore's Night)

As the title of the story would imply, many of the characters have flower motifs - some of which may appear in clothing motifs, symbolism, or actual flowers in the story. Flowers are usually tied to meanings of rebirth, hope, and something that is thriving. Wilted flowers indicate that something is amiss - perhaps their environment is sickly as well. Rylisan's flower motif is daisies. Xarian's flower motif is the nightshade. Think about that as you will (: Both have multiple meanings for the characters at hand.

When Neoma'ka is introduced she is trapped in a complicated situation. This parallels her backstory, which revolves around her being "trapped" within her family's expectations of her. It also implies that she is trapped, emotionally, by her own hands - for as long as she does not come to terms with her past.

King Tieran Kallasen's story as well as his past friendship-turned-rivalry with Arcturus Wildwood was vaguely inspired by the actual Arthurian legends. Tieran is a twisted version of King Arthur, while Arcturus is inspired by Lancelot.

Once again, the "flower" motif, but subtler: Arista Bryar's surname is a variation of the word briar - which means wild rose. Roses are innocent flowers usually hailed for their beauty, but their thorns can cause a lot of pain. As it turns out, Arista might be more thorn than flower when the story starts. I also chose her surname as "Bryar" because in Ravaryn faeries are known for having nature-inspired surnames, and she is a half-fae (vampires are faeries in this story). She is also associated with the color ember red, or blood crimson - respectively, "like her father's eyes or the rage in her heart."

Multiple character backstories in this WIP deal with the theme of being unjustly judged and shunned, being othered and cast away by other people - be it by being called a bloodthirsty aberration, a scoundrel, a dark magician, or a traitor, when that's not true. It's also a story about those characters learning to love themselves no matter what society thinks about them.

Realms of Loss:

Kassien's symbol (which is in his actual insignia in the story) is the Sea Serpent (the legendary monster). Those creatures are associated in mythology with the ungovernable power of the oceans, chaos, and the mysteries of the unknown.

When Gwain Vytris is first described in the story there's the phrase "his grey cloak frames him like the closed wings of a hawk". Hawks are birds associated with intelligence, adaptability, and freedom, while also being birds of prey capable of causing serious danger to those they hunt. It's a pretty ominous, somewhat hopeful imagery for our angry boi.

The name Drystan is a variation of Tristan, a name that means "sorrow, or one who is sorrowful". Considering Drystan's backstory in this book, I think the name is pretty accurate.

Sara Kallary's story is very much a "person vs fate" story in which she questions whether she was born destined to be a vile monster like a certain relative of hers, or if she can choose and carve out her own path and destiny.

Nesrynna is known for her unique necklace, which has an amulet that is actually a music box. This has two meanings, both are correct: 1. she chooses to look for beauty and hope in unlikely places, 2. she is stuck in the pain of her childhood, and what it could've been if nothing had gone wrong, she never let go.

Tagging - @oh-no-another-idea, @sm-writes-chaos, @steh-lar-uh-nuhs, @writernopal, @elshells, @cabbojage, @jay-avian and @rickie-the-storyteller

#wip: tales of wilted flowers #wip: realms of loss #my wips #tag games! (: #writers on tumblr #character writing #writerblr #my characters #my writing #writeblr #writing #writers

[avampyone]

Tagged: 10 Characters/10 Fandoms/10 Tags

Thank you and appreciate the tag @shroudkeeper ! It was difficult to pick out only a few. I've always had a penchant for mysterious characters that are more than what they appear to be on a surface level. To no one's surprise, there are a lot of vampire characters that I adore and gained inspiration from over the years xD

Tagging, if you all wish to do it. Anyone else who wants to outside of this, please feel free! : @aroseyetbloomedwrites | @drowxiv | @nabaath-areng | @viiioca | @ffxivtribehydrae

@the-crimson-rose | @houserosaire | @elfnecrosis | @blisteringstar | @galla-xiv

Alucard - Hellsing

Adrian F. Tepes 'Alucard' - Castlevania

Heather Mason - Silent Hill 3

Various Anne Rice's Vampire chronicles characters

Asellus - Saga Frontier

Joker - Persona 5 - (A lot characters from the Persona series tbh)

Madmartigan - Willow

Vincent Law - Ergo Proxy

Saint-Germain - Code Realize

D - Vampire Hunter D

#hemlockeffxiv #tagged post #fandom love #character inspiration #also love fatal frame and the themes behind it #The Witcher too

[tokito-dulya20]

NOSEBLEEDS AND PANIC ATTACKS

Kaichika and Ilona (oc and oc story)

Characters: Kaichika Haruka, Ilona Dulina

{WARNINGS: MENTIONS ON BLOOD (LOTS OF BLOOD), VIOLENCE, ANXIETY, PANIC ATTACKS}

[Ilona was only sitting in peace and writing a letter to the master, reporting a mission she just finished. Then things take a turn when she is in her half-demon form and she punches a mirror. No one heard the noise, but Kaichika did. Ilona gets her massive nosebleeds and her first panic attack]

In the Frost Estate, a place shrouded in mystery, the frost hashira, Ilona, found solace in the tranquility of her room. With a quill in hand and parchment before her, she diligently penned a letter to the master, detailing the successful completion of her latest mission. The room was adorned with nothing much.

As Ilona's thoughts flowed onto the paper, a sudden surge of energy coursed through her veins. Her body trembled, and her skin prickled with an otherworldly sensation. Before she could comprehend what was happening, her half-demon form emerged, causing her once gentle features to contort into something more fearsome. She heard a voice.. but in particular, the frost demon that bit her when she was only 10.

Ilona's eyes widened in disbelief as she heard the voice and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Without thinking, she lashed out, her fist colliding with the glass surface. The mirror shattered into a thousand shards, scattering across the floor. The noise was deafening, but amidst the hustle and bustle of the estate, no one seemed to notice.

Except for one.

The dance hashira, Kaichika, happened to be passing by Ilona's room when the sound of breaking glass reached her ears. Concern etched across her face, she hurriedly entered the room, only to find Ilona in a state of distress. Her hand began to bleed profusely, staining her pale hand with crimson, and her breaths came in rapid, shallow gasps. She was in tears..

Rushing to her side, Kaichika gently grasped Ilona's trembling hands, her voice filled with genuine worry.

Kaichika: Ilona, breathe. You're safe. It's just a panic attack. Focus on your breath, in and out.

Ilona struggled to regain control of her racing heart, her mind clouded with fear and confusion. The room seemed to spin around her, and she clung to Kaichika's words as an anchor in the storm. Slowly, she followed her instructions, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, attempting to find her center amidst the chaos.

As Ilona's breathing steadied, Kaichika continued to offer words of comfort, her voice soothing and gentle.

Kaichika: You're not alone, Ilona. We're here for you. Take your time, and when you're ready, we can clean up the mess together.

Gradually, Ilona's panic subsided, and she felt a sense of calm wash over her. She looked up at Kaichika, gratitude shining in her eyes.

Ilona: Thank you, Kaichika. I don't know what came over me.

Kaichika smiled warmly, her hand still clasping Ilona's.

Kaichika: Sometimes, even the strongest among us need a moment of vulnerability. It's okay to let your guard down, Ilona. We're like a family here, and we'll always support each other.

With Kaichika's help, Ilona rose to her feet, her half-demon form receding as she regained control over her powers. Together, they carefully cleaned up the broken mirror, ensuring no trace of the incident remained. Kaichika noticed some blood coming down from Ilona’s nose. She found a tissue and held it up to Ilona’s nose, to stop the bleeding. She also saw Ilona’s bloody hand, so she went to one of Ilona’s servants.

Kaichika: Hey, sorry to disturb you but… Do you guys have any bandages? Ilona cut herself pretty bad

Servant: No Ms. Haruka, we just ran out of bandages.

Kaichika: Don’t worry, I’ll take Ilona with me to the Butterfly Mansion so Shinobu can wrap her hand. 

Kachika took Ilona with her to the Butterfly Mansion, so Shinobu could wrap her hand. Ilona felt really clingy to Kaichika for some reason. Later in the Frost Estate, Ilona learned that strength wasn't just about physical prowess. It was also about vulnerability, trust, and the unwavering support of those who stood by her side. And as she resumed her letter to the master, she knew that she was not alone in her journey, for she had found a friend in Kaichika, a pillar of strength in the face of adversity.

tagging: @theyslaydemons (THANKS FOR LETTING ME USE KAICHIKA FOR THE FANFIC!!)

#demon slayer #kny oc #kny oc i guess #ilona dulina #kaichika haruka

[mysterycharacterflowers]

Gladiolus 2 VS Crimson rose

First, let's talk about the Gladiolus 2

Meaning and why this flower was chosen: The Flower of Gladiators, Integrity, Strength, Victory. Her integrity, loyalty, and commitment to strength in battle are probably her best traits Description : Third child, obsessively faithful knight sworn in service to her half-brother, can never resist a bad decision in who to fall for, equipped with a broadsword

Check her post here

Now, let's talk about the crimson rose

Meaning and why this flower was chosen: it means mourning and she's a necromancer who is mourning constantly Description: She is the product of her parent's atrocities, and only knows one other person her age. She is in love with a concept of something untouchable. She loves very little, and what she does love is taken from her. She's also tiny, and has the appearance of a wet sopping cat (except when you touch her she is bone dry). Her goth nature is only added to by her tragedy.

Check her post here

#round 1 #mysterious character: gladiolus 2 #mysterious character: crimson rose

[warpcursed]

MUSE AESTHETICS: HORROR EDITION.

bold whatever applies | italics what sometimes applies [ both if it's perfect for your muse ] | strikethrough what doesn't apply & tag people. repost; don’t reblog!

CLASSIC.

black and white. powder puffs. red lipstick. winged eyeliner. white kitten heels. black lace lingerie. icy blue eyes. rain. abandoned cars. skeletons. acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades. strangling. overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-atlantic accents. private detectives. dinner parties. haunted mansions. cobwebs. perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars. dust. ghosts. dark alleys. empty streets. horn-rimmed glasses. radiation. zombies. serial murder. suspicion. the city. witches. the devil. cannibalism. conspiracies. amulets. abject terror. the American South. the American Northeast. England. analog cameras.

CRYPTID & URBAN LEGEND.

aliens. blinding light. dark woods. driving at night. claw marks. bite marks. men in black. memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones. video cameras. cars with tinted windows. unlabeled cassette tapes. bugs. big cities. urban crimes. clowns. something rustling outside your window. glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia. mirrors. the american pacific northwest. the american midwest. hiking. backpacking.

GOTHIC.

gaslights. corsets. ballrooms. candlelight. mist. starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets. horse-drawn carriages. mysterious strangers. bogs. moors. forests. mountains. castles. velvet. silver. brass. gold. jewels. domino masks. the opera. dangerous romances. tragic romances. violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows. crows. milk-white skin. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night. capes. gloves. top hats. straight razors. lightning. pipe organs. underground caverns. bats. mice. rats. ravens. cats. pearls. attics. talismans. axes. wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves. ghosts. coffins. western europe. eastern europe. bones. churches. catacombs. mausoleums. books. stitches.

PARANORMAL.

malevolent spirits. seances. spells. missing bodies. hidden graves. white noise. static. flickering lights. rings of salt. demons. poltergeists. dark histories. old buildings. cold air. wells. urban exploration. a dog barking at unseen things. iconoclasm. black ooze. old photographs. dark bodies of water. crucifixes. priests. possession. exorcisms. dolls.

SLASHER.

bloodbaths. massacres. wanton nudity. newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets. converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires. lakes. babysitters. high school. lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. passing shadows. outdated television sets. nightmares. psychiatrists. hospitals. unstoppable forces. gunfire. police. landline telephones. improvised weapons. halloween. secrets. revelations. cut wires. character masks. scrunchies. wild curls. jeering children. parties. fire. swearing. revulsion. california. the american midwest. ambulances.

THRILLER.

daylight. fluorescent lighting. morgues. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms. empty rooms. killer in plain sight. a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes. paperwork. anagrams. codes. convicted killers. missing persons. law enforcement. federal agents. small towns. paranoia. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots. a noise in the distance.

Stole from: @all-fleshed-out ((im love you friend))

Tagging: @chapter-master-darius @bitchofsteel @divinacaptivus @dreamsofalife @akhenaten-imhotep @ask-the-crimson-king @askthecaptiangeneral @some-old-psyker

[fantasyinvader]

I think the issue with Houses is how the storytelling fails it through two different, though interconnected, means. In wanting the players to immerse themselves in Fodlan, the devs made it so that the little details matter as the player connects the dots. For instance, the Disquiet event in Safflower is supposed to call Edelgard's C+ Support, itself the first step in playing Flower, into question if the player picked a certain option during that support and the results of that option tie into the second step of going to the coronation. It's also supposed to be recalled a little later in the route, where Edelgard reveals her own views and where she got them. Hubert's lines are also supported by an earlier scene in White Clouds, A Form of Grief, where Thales reveals the purpose behind the experiments. That one scene with Hubert calls the entire route, especially what Edelgard tells you, into question.

The game is loaded with things like this to the point you practically need to set up a string-board to connect everything. But to ultimately understand what the game is saying, you need to understand the symbols it uses. You need to recognize the symbols, how they are being used and what they say. This becomes a problem when the exist outside of the narrative itself, like calling the scene where the BEs pledge themselves to Edelgard "Path of Thorns." It also becomes a problem when the translation takes liberties with the script, as those symbols can be altered (such as changing Safflower to Crimson Flower, with Edge of Dawn making it out to be a red rose) or even removed (such as Dimitri calling Safflower the path of the beast, the antithesis of Nirvana).

That translation issue can extend also extend into the first point, where if the dots are changed it changes the story. For instance, in the Japanese script Edelgard will tell Claude she doesn't believe their ideals are the same. Up until this point, it was made out that Edelgard and Claude weren't that different except that Edelgard would go to lengths that Claude wouldn't but this reveal makes it so that they weren't alike at all. Sure, they both wanted to get rid of the Church but it was ultimately for different ends. Claude wants to promote cultural exchange where no one is seen as an outsider, whereas Edelgard works towards the conquest of Fodlan and (according to the Japanese script for Caspar's endings) the world. They are ultimately two very different characters, but that is erased by the script instead saying their ideals aren't so different instead while also turning Rhea, arguably the game's true female lead, into a rage monster.

You could argue that the translation could be considered a third point all on it's own, but I think if the narrative was stronger, if it hadn't tried to play these games, the translation wouldn't have been able to do this. But because the game wants the player to figure out it's mysteries themselves, requiring knowledge of other routes or outcomes of decisions despite the devs saying they thought most players would only do a single playthrough, and using symbolism not as a means to enhance the story but to clarify it, everything is left to be inferred. I am genuinely curious if the localization is the result of Treehouse's minunderstanding of the plot, which would explain why Nintendo did player surveys asking them if they understood the plot. Feels like they fell for the trick the devs intended for the players, as ironic as that sounds.

It's okay to have 10k years of lore and backstory, but you need to focus on the main story first and foremost.

[sweethoneyrose83]

Creating a Hazbin Hotel Alastor themed Bouquet:

1. Red Roses: Red roses symbolize passion and love, but they also have a darker connotation fitting for Alastor's character. Their deep red color represents his mysterious and enigmatic nature.

2. Black Calla Lilies: Calla lilies add an elegant touch to the bouquet, and black ones can represent the darkness and intrigue associated with Alastor.

3. Deep Purple Carnations: Deep purple carnations can add depth to the bouquet and represent mystery and charm, echoing Alastor's charismatic personality.

4. Dark Feathers: To bring in Alastor's demonic essence, incorporate dark feathers, perhaps black or deep crimson, to add texture and visual interest.

5. Black Satin Ribbon: Use black satin ribbon to tie the bouquet together, adding a touch of elegance and sophistication while also emphasizing the dark theme.

6. Small Skull Accents: As a nod to Alastor's sinister nature, consider adding small decorative skull accents throughout the bouquet, subtly peeking out from behind the flowers.

7. Vintage Radio: For a truly unique touch, include a miniature vintage-style radio as a centerpiece or accent piece within the bouquet, symbolizing Alastor's connection to the radio and his past as a radio host.

8. Thorny Branches: Integrate thorny branches or stems to represent Alastor's dangerous and unpredictable side, adding a bit of edge to the arrangement.

This bouquet would capture the essence of Alastor from Hazbin Hotel, combining elements of mystery, darkness, and charm into a visually striking and thematically appropriate floral arrangement.

#alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel 2024

[genderenvyelimination]

First Round Masterlist

3/12/2023:

Zuko | Avatar: The Last Airbender vs. Red | Don't Hug Me I'm Scared

Asmodeus | Obey Me! vs Garry | Ib

Spencer Reid | Criminal Minds vs. ENA | ENA

John Doe | Malevolent vs Lyfrassir Edda | The Bifrost Incident

Blackbeard | Our Flag Means Death vs. Percy Jackson | Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Otachi | Pacific Rim vs. Kurama | Naruto

Thanatos | Hades vs. Obito | Naruto

Lydia Deetz | Beetlejuice vs. John Mitchell | Being Human UK

Milo Thatch | Atlantis vs. Hiccup | How to Train Your Dragon

Loki | Norse Mythology vs. Kaworu | Neon Genesis Evangelion

Chat Noir | Miraculous Ladybug vs. Stevonnie | Steven Universe

3/14/2023:

Byleth | Fire Emblem vs. Fiver | Watership Down

Toruk Makto | Avatar: Way of Water vs. Aragorn | LOTR

Alma Winograd-Diaz | Undone vs. Jennifer Check | Jennifer's Body

Meta Knight | Kirby vs. Anakin Skywalker | Star Wars

Sylvester Ashling | Epithet Erased vs. Emmet | Pokemon

Thursday Plurbonym Boyporridge | Strange Aeons vs. Wizard | wizardisananimal

Bears in Trees | Band vs. 4th Phase Ghouls | Ghost BC

Electra | Starlight Express vs. Gerard Way | MCR

Hare | Tales from EarthSea vs. Sonic | Sonic the Hedgehg

Hero Killer Stain vs. Hawks | BNHA

Ekko | Arcane vs. Papa Emeritus IV/Copia | Ghost Band

Will Wood | Will Wood and the Tapeworms vs. The Toy Soldier | The Mechanisms

3/15/2023:

Lewis Pepper | Mystery Skulls vs. The Curious | Creeped Out

Raine Whispers | The Owl House vs. El-Ahrairah | Watership Down

Kris Dreemur | Deltarune vs. Doug Eiffel | Wolf 359

Elias | Ancient Magnus Bride vs. Ash Crimson | King of Fighters

Testament | Guilty Gear vs. Megamind | Megamind

Undertaker | Black Butler vs. Cure Chocolat | Kira Kira Precure a la Mode

Young Tim Curry Characters | Clue vs. Rumi | Just Roll With It

Richard III | Requiem of the Rose King vs. Simon Petrikov |Adventure Time

Denji | Chainsaw Man vs. Sasori | Naruto

Hunter | Rain World vs. Sam Winchester | Supernatural

Eddie Munson | Stranger Things vs. Magnus Chase | Magnus Chase

3/16/2023:

Hiei | Yu Yu Hakusho vs. Kaname Date | Ai: the Somnium Files

Bold and Brash | Spongebob Squarepants vs. Lucienne | Sandman (THEY BOTH WON?)

E-boy Wojak | Meme culture vs. Cal Kestis | Jedi: Fallen Order

Team Rocket | Pokemon vs. Nico de Angelo | Percy Jackson/ Riordanverse

Ludwig Von Drake | Disney vs. Red Lizard | Rain World

Julian Devorak | Arcana vs. Professor Venomous | OKKO

Giovanni Potage | Epithet Erased vs. Ryuko | Kill La Kill

Mr. Fox | Fantastic Mr. Fox vs. Zim | Invader Zim

Dio Brando | Jojo's Bizarre Adventure vs. Sasuke Uchiha | Naruto

Yamato | One Piece vs. Roy Mustang | Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood

Lemon Grab | Adventure Time vs. Fujimoto | Ponyo

Mizuki | Project Sekai vs. Gomez Addams | Addams Family

3/17/2023:

Arven | Pokemon Scarlet and Violet vs. Reigen | Mob Psycho 100

Pure Vessel | Hollow Knight vs. Lord Shen | Kung Fu Panda 2

Trunks | Dragon Ball vs. Dr. Robotnik | Sonic

Five Pebbles | Rain World vs. The Goblin King | Labyrinth

Turrican OST | Turrican Game vs. Ganon's Corpse | Breath of the Wild 2

Edgar Allen Poe | Bungo Stray Dogs vs. Mollymauk Tealeaf | Critical Role

Dwight Enys | Poldark vs. Will Graham | Hannibal

Scrooge McDuck | Ducktales 2017 vs. Dr. Emmett Brown | Back to the Future

Rohan Kishibe | Jojo's Bizarre Adventure vs. Bilbo Baggins | Hobbit

Micheal Afton | Five Nights At Freddy's vs. Cecil Palmer | Welcome To Nightvale

Carla | Dumbing of Age vs. Larry | Pokemon

Tragedians | Pathologic vs. Zagreus | Hades

Alucard | Castlevania vs. Robin | One Piece

#genderenvyelimination #this is going to get loooooooooooong

[manonamora-if]

Project Status and Plans

All projects and their relevant links are listed here or here.

2023 Resolutions:

Get things off my desk and shelf it for good.

Avoid starting new ones, or at least starting new WIPs

Continue to do Word Crimes (and maybe Code Crimes)

Under the break:

Project Status and Current To-Do's

Future Projects

/ . /

Project Status and Current To-Do's:

Meeting the Parents

Remaster Completed - Maintenance when needed

Crimson Rose & White Lily

Hiatus - Correct bugs - Redesign the Codexes - Complete Scene 5 (and Scene 2 variations?)

Exquisite Cadaver

Hiatus - Fix UI - QoL update of textbox and translated text - Add missing scenes and Endings - Fix Endless Mode - Look into French localization (unlikely) - Fix the blog

SPS Iron Hammer

Complete Future: remaster with complete story and gameplay

The Thick Table Tavern

Complete - Update Planned - Fix UI (look into mobile scaling) - Fix coding bugs (esp. Arcade Mode) - Re-writes of current text - Add missing storylets - Include recurring characters

The Trials and Tribulations of Edward Harcourt

Work In Progress - dependent on writer - Complete next round of edit and code - Package as a completed product

La Petite Mort

Completed - Update in the Works - Fix UI - Add missing rooms, content and endings - Correct the Inventory Mechanic - Fix display of elements - Translate into English

Goncharov Escapes!

Remaster Completed - Maintenance when needed

P-Rix - Space Trucker

Hiatus - Fix animations (esp text) and autoscrolling - Add the missing content - Look into French localization

DOL-OS

Remaster Completed - Maintenance when needed

The Rye in the Dark City

Hiatus - Fix UI - Double check Act 1 and fix errors - Add Act 2 and 3

The Roads not Taken

Complete - Update Planned - Iron-out the UI + display element - Fix parser gameplay (esp direction) - Add missing element/actions - Look into French localization

Entre-d’œufs coquilles An Eggscellent Preparation

Complete - Update Planned - Fix current bugs and issues (wrong text display and main puzzle) - Retranslate to French - Repackage into one page - Upload to IF Archive + GitHub

The Dinner

Complete - Update Planned - Complete missing courses and Final Beat - Add alternative options + rewind endings - Look into French localization

Templates and Guides

Work In Progress - unlikely to be complete - SugarCube Guide: add missing APIs, commonly used blocks of code, functionality, UI changes, JavaScript code; fix some small errors, add SGDocu theme - Templates: make more for fun; planned: title page. Also add the missing pictures of the templates on itch.

Complete - nothing will change here - Tweego Guide - CScript to SugarCube Guide

Tiny Games

Le Jeu de la Dévotion: fix the typos + English translation

À La Campagne

Collision

Intersigne

Clarence Street, 14

Other To-Do's

Prompts: put them in separate collection

Empty Inbox

Re-design itch pages: consistent style between main games

Re-format Tumblr intro posts: consistent style between posts

Continue to Host Jams

Continue to Play and Review Games

Take care of those damn wrists and hands.

Future Projects

Those projects are TBD in everything. They would probably start then the above To-Do has decreased. The titles are WIP titles. This is not the complete list I have hidden in a drawer or other desk bunnies. They might not be Twine games, or IF games either...

Quest Town

A RPG-style adventure, where you play as a beginner adventurer on the road to greatness and treasure. Along the way, you encounter people needing your help, with promise of rewards in return.

This would include a leveling system, inventory system, combat gameplay, travelling back and forth between location, storylets...

Project Status: Not Started

IFComp/SpringThing 2024-5?

A puzzle-focus escape-room, in hypertext/visually interactive form. Multiple rooms with different puzzle and interconnectedness. Story with mystery.

I technically have a title for it, and the pun is still making me giggle. But keeping this in my sleeve.

Project Status: Mock-up, some puzzles coded.

CRWL Side-quel

A Razac-focused story, either as a prequel, during the event of the games, sequel, or plain alternate universe. Mainly because I've been playing him in a TTRPG session and he's a fun character I want to explore further.

Project Status: Not Started

Sword Vigilante F/F Rivalry

Because there are not enough of those, and I can just go all in with the humour, camp, gushing, innuendos and puns, and of course... betraaaaayyyaals. Think Zorro but with more sword ladies.

Project Status: Not Started

TTTT Sequel - Bron(m?)'s Quest

Essentially a similar gameplay from TTTT but with food instead of drinks. Help Brom(n?) prepare food for the customers.

Project Status: Not Started

#this is replacing the old Project Status post #and will be updated once in a while #project status #so many of them #I don't think there are enough tags for all of them now... #manonamora

[2af-afterdark]

HYASHA

"Tsk, stay away from me."

Profile

Height: 170cm/5'7"

Birthday: June 2nd

Age: 27 years old

Horoscope: Gemini

Information

Beneath the beautiful and elegant exterior lies a strong character. Often underestimated due to his appearance. He and Sen are [REDACTED]. His feelings towards Sen remain a mystery. He keeps an eagle. Out of [REDACTED], he is used to moving stealthily in the dark.

Theme Song

Dichromat

“Don't touch me. You have three seconds to disappear.”

The crimson liquid falls from the corner of the table. Following the steps taken by the red-haired, countless red roses bloomed on the ground.

Singer：真夜中チャムケ Lyrics：梅野繭 Music：星雨くるみ Artist ：Rylee

#noctilucent: before dawn #noctilucent hyasha