#flower of hell

[weebywritingblog]

Flower of Hell

Chapter 1: Reborn

Popping into existence is strange. One moment, she’s nothing, and then the next, she has thoughts, followed by sensations. This isn’t like birth. There’s no pain to her coming, nor even any confusion, just a strange cold feeling at her core.

It doesn’t take her long to process that she’s lying down on her back. Information from her surroundings, both sounds and smells, slowly come into focus. At first, her mind swims, the incoming information overwhelming her brain, but after a while, it begins to mellow out.

With a quiet groan of effort, she begins movement, slowly and carefully pulling herself off her back and propping herself up with her arms. Her breath is strained and a little ragged as she exerts this effort. Minutes pass, her eyes beginning to stir under her eyelids, and finally, she slowly begins to open them.

Her vision blurs as light hits her retinas for the first time. It’s not painful, and the light isn't all that bright. On instinct, she tries blinking it away, resorting to gently rubbing her eyes when that doesn’t quite work. As the world finally begins to come into focus, she finds her brow furrowing in confusion.

The sight spreading out before her is a jarring one. Silhouetted by a sparkling night sky and two large moons is a vast destroyed city. Massive skyscrapers, some still standing with visible signs of destruction, and others toppled over, leaning on other buildings as if asking for help to stay standing. Her spot on the ground rests on a dry dirt hill overlooking one of its many entrances, an empty freeway littered with debris from the buildings. The concrete that makes it up is either cracked or completely destroyed.

She didn’t really have any expectations when opening her eyes, but now that they are, she struggles to understand what it is she’s looking at. The sight of all this destruction… there obviously isn’t anything in her memories to compare it to, but it still feels unnatural. A feeling at the back of her mind tells her the buildings should be filled with light and the streets filled with people. A city should be a sparkling gem in the darkness, but instead, it’s more like an empty tomb.

Soon her gaze wanders from the city down to her own body. As perplexing as the sight before her is, she finds her mind now wondering about herself. From her position, she can see that she’s definitely wearing clothes. A combat uniform, in fact. Urban camo military fatigues, except the only piece of gear she seems to have besides the clothing bit is a holster on her right hip, and there’s even a small handgun resting inside. A quick check with her hand shows she isn’t even wearing a helmet, and despite her mind telling her a soldier should have a shaved head, her hair is almost to her shoulders. Curiously, she pulls a few strands forward and stares at them. Her hair is as white as snow, a fact that almost seems obvious to her now that she sees it.

The fact she’s certain she should have a full set of gear, let alone that she knows a full set of gear exists, does puzzle her for a moment, but she shakes it off and begins pulling herself to her feet. It’s a bit of a struggle, and her legs wobble a bit as she rises, but she does eventually find her footing, her legs remembering their own strength as she feels the dirt crunch a bit under her boots.

In a gentle motion, she instinctively pulls the gun from her holster, looking it over as her fingers fall into place around it as if she had held the little weapon a million times before.

“... A Makarov,” she speaks, her voice barely a whisper as she enjoys the weight of the petite pistol in her hand. “I… guess ‘I’m not sure how I know that’ should just be a catch phrase of mine… This is all so strange…”

She chuckles to herself, and for a long moment, all she does is stare at it. Then, her movements as fluid as a dancer’s, she ejects the magazine to check for ammo. It’s full, and as soon as she returns it to its home, she quickly moves from that to pulling the slide back to check for one in the chamber. The gun is fully ready to fire.

Aiming it out in front of her, she can’t help but feel a small sense of joy in having the weapon with her. Taking a quick scan of her surroundings, her gun ready the whole time, she realizes that she’s in a pretty empty area. There is a forest in the distance, but it’s far away in the complete opposite direction of the city.

This seems a strange location to be. She can’t help but wonder if someone left her here, or if she came here on her own. The biggest question coming to her mind, however…

“Why can’t I remember how I got here?” She asks, her voice just a bit more audible than before.

She lowers her gun, still keeping it at the ready, then turns back towards the city. A gentle wind kisses her face as she wonders what to do, her eyes rising to the twin moons in the sky. Confusion now twists with anxiety as she suddenly finds herself asking… is there even anyone else? Is she alone in this world for some reason?

Taking in a slow deep breath, she tries to suppress the rising knot in her stomach, then shakes her head.

“No, that’s not possible,” she affirms to herself aloud. “I know it isn’t…”

A determined look falls over her face, and unbeknownst to her, an icy blue glow flares up in her eyes. Wherever she is, however she got here, she’s not alone. She can feel it…

But that feeling is intertwined with a strong chill rising up her spine the second she begins taking her first steps towards the city, and whatever awaits her within.

[yandere-herrscher]

"Break away escape, Break away escape

From this path that we've made

And this wicked fate.

I stll believe that you can't be a flower of hell. You're not meant for this place, don't you blossom here, don't you blossom here.

Every step is a trap so easily ensnared"

[artistmarchalius]

I had this dumb idea going ‘round in my head so I let it out as a quick comic.

NEXT

[whentheycryvideos]

Higurashi - "Flower of Hell" | ENGLISH Ver | AmaLee

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Flower Empowered.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[goddessofbees]

This one took awhile with all the little details, but it's adorable so who cares! Based off of @dcxdpdabbles Passion For Fashion! These two are cuties!

[floweycidal]

i keep thinking about how flowey had to construct the very concept of cruelty from the ground up.

not from watching anyone else, not by osmosis, but by cobbling it together himself in the garden where he woke up. alone.

this was a child who fell asleep to his mother's stories, who knew every inflection of his father's laugh. who spent endless golden afternoons with his sibling, both of them doubled over with giggles as they filmed their silly videos, messing up on purpose just to hear each other laugh. again. and again. and again.

so warm. so safe. where the gravest offense imaginable was maybe tracking mud on the carpet.

the worst fear, disappointing people who would love you anyway.

where could he even begin?

save. say these words that once meant comfort, but twist them just so. watch their eyes dim as something inside them breaks. load.

save. make a promise—you remember those, how snug they once made you feel—then shatter it. document exactly how hope crumbles. load.

save. try another combination. another betrayal. watch what splinters differently this time. load.

the world's loneliest science experiment.

look at the cruelty he creates, it's all so personal, specific. so devastatingly asriel.

watch how often he comes back to the idea of being replaced. of being forgotten. how he taunts you with the possibility that none of your relationships matter, that everyone will move on without you. that none of your choices mean anything in the end.

your fault. your responsibility.

if only he you hadn't made anyone love him you. If only he you hadn't loved them back.

of course he'd fixate on all that. how could he not? his mother, who used to speak his name like it was sacred, those tender words she reserved for him—for THEM—are now handed out indiscriminately, like candy to anyone who asks.

all he can do is take note: see how easily love transfers? see how simple it is to fade away?

so, he sneers. taunts you with the thought that it's all dust. you're just another passing face in the crowd. nothing lasts. nothing is worth the weight of caring. but even as he pushes that narrative, as his voice drips with contempt, he is still out there. in the ruins. checking on her.

observing from a distance, like maybe if he watches long enough, his past will solidify into something he can hold again.

flowey develops his cruelty like he's trying to solve an equation. if this word plus this action equals pain, then surely there must be some formula that yields not caring anymore.

if he'd just gotten it right. if he'd just kept everyone at a distance. if he could just be flowey. save. load. the answer has to be here somewhere.

but how do you quantify the sting of hearing her say "my child" to someone else? how do you account for the absence left in the places where joy once thrived? how do you document, in clinical terms, why you keep watching over people you swear don't matter anymore?

you don't devote yourself to perfecting devastation unless you remember, with searing clarity, what it felt like to be whole.

you don't give so much of yourself mastering the art of ridiculing attachment unless you're terrified of how much you still have left to give.

unless every attempt to prove love meaningless just confirms how much meaning it still has for you.

...point IS! flowey did an interesting job creating his own idea of a bully. it's all pathological. so crudely stemmed from his own sorrows and fears. he's created his own textbook definition of meanness...but then every chapter's just him screaming in a mirror.

[bluevelvet8]

sometimes when I’m bored I like to find people their flower twin ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅

[selena04]

[llitchilitchi]

more Slovak Miku! this time in folk dress from Čajkov with its iconic horned cap

[serene-bambi]

[cabi-leodrann]

Picked up watercolor again, after not doing anything with it for years lol Pretty happy with how it turned out!

Anyway, Cult of the Lamb fanart- because it lives rent free in my head. Specifically the Lamb/Narinder ship. I live for this ship, I do not know why. It just scratches my brain like very fiew ship can.

[ohmydumbledear]

Orym of the Air Ashari 🌸

It was about time I drew my favorite halfling, I actually can't believe this is the first ever piece I made about him. He has my whole heart 🧡

[v1rginsu1cidal]

There are roses between my thighs⋆·˚ ༘ *

[effervescentbaby]

“i want a childish/sensitive girl” until she doesn’t know how to communicate correctly, goes silent when she’s upset, always thinks you’re upset with her, scared to have sex, cries almost every day, thinks you’ll leave her for someone more mature, acts like a child when shes with you, always thinks she’s too immature for you, has issues with eating because she knows you like tiny girls and she doesn’t feel small enough, and overthinks everything

[friszil]

episode 2: making adjustments.