#twst horror zine

[artsyco3xist]

WIP shot for TWST Horror Zine

This was a progress check-in showcasing the idea I had for the zine. I never showed the full completed image online, but this captures the tone of the piece I feel. I made Jamil into a giant snake monster rampaging Scarabia in the climax of Book 4. He spots the "heroes" hiding behind the pillar as they try to avoid being seen.

[twsthorrorzine]

Artsy_co3xist's preview art might look a little familiar, she's also returned from Nightmares to join us in Night Terrors!

[suntails]

⚔️🐉

[kenchann]

little red riding hood? ------- my piece for the @twsthorrorzine! it was fun being part of it! also seeing others stuff makes me wanna up my "horror" game (❤´艸｀❤)

[lanshappycorner]

🦋encased

[ithelicorice]

consumed in flame of your own creation

[twst-drabbles]

(Zine) The World, Chewed and Spat Out

Summary: The horror zine piece, as it was.

(Whoops, forgot to post the original piece, my bad.)

What do they see in front of themselves? Is it the natural painting of the world? Of the sea-salt breeze and the gentle ocean waters lapping at their feet as they walk across the bay? Of a bleeding-orange sky with a sun that leaves its final rays on the sand before finally having its rest?

No, no of course they don’t see that. That’s simply a memory. The Ramshackle Prefect’s steps give pause to a thing they would’ve once called a seashell, but it crawled and pulsed. Black little roots seek out their bare flesh, and while the urge to stomp it out of existence was there, the nostalgia over seeing the shape of a seashell had them walking around it and continuing on.

They can no longer look out into the sea and see graceful waters. They could only see foamy tongues as they climbed higher and higher into the sky, as though it wanted to consume the sun. The winds that once whispered their songs now howl with heat and rot. And the sands were now lumpy with makeshift graves and scavenging creatures alike.

The only solace that could be found was at the end of their road, where a solitary Azul was.

Well, at least someone once named Azul.

“Oh, it’s been a while. You look…”

He stands in the waves, without shoes, without weight as he turns around like a gentle curl of sea foam.

“Hmm? I look? How do I look to you?” Azul goaded, even though it was clear he knew the answer.

“…happier. That’s quite the smile on your face. It almost doesn’t suit you, Azul.” As though to shield themselves from the sight, they closed their eyes.

“Am I not supposed to express my absolute jubilation at the presence of a friend?” “That’s quite a thing to say.”

“The last time you smiled like that, I nearly lost my dorm along with my friends. So, excuse the pause, I got caught up in those memories.” The Prefect didn’t touch the water, didn’t join by Azul’s side, but sat down on a flat spot of sand nonetheless.

“For peace of mind, I’d advise casting away such things. Nostalgia, while a versatile tool in any given sale or product, is useless here,” Azul fully faced them, bending at the waist to fully look into his friend’s face, the dying rays creating shadows upon his face, “Useless when it comes to me.”

The Prefect gave a laugh that was more air than voice, “Useless… certainly, very, very useless.”

He reached out a hand, not taking a single step out of the sea, “Let it all wash away, friend. No one would blame you for doing so.”

There was a smile upon their face. It perfectly matched his own in all its plastic glory, “Friend… you keep calling me that.”

“Is that wrong?”

“It’s not right either. You never called me that before.” Prefect, they without magic, the errand person, a number of different monikers, but never friend, “And friends certainly don’t leave and show up however they please after going missing.”

Azul shrugged, “Does time really matter when it comes to meeting with old friends? The truest ones are the ones that can wait centuries and still have nothing change.”

“In a way, I suppose something hasn’t.” They raised their knees and rested their head against them, “Changed, that is.”

“Really? And what would that be?”

“You’re still the type to come and go only when you want something. Rarely do you give anyone the time of day — like a single second will somehow topple your monetary empire.” When one’s empire makes up the tower of their being, its emperor will do anything to keep it standing tall.

“But there are more valuable things than money. You make it sound like that’s all I ever cared about.”

To the one known as the Ramshackle Prefect, it’s certainly easy to see him in that light. However, such an impression was never permanent, as evidenced by their fond smile.

“Right right, there are people, after all. Those that can bring in more of what you value. Such as those eels. Or that resident right there.“

The beach was not as familiar a place as, say, the stringy lines of kelp that Azul would often hide in as a child. As warm, beautiful, and fascinating as this place was, it was simply too open, too vast. The sun wasn’t supposed to be this large orb of light in a changing sky. It was supposed to be stray rays through unstable waters that find themselves lucky to hit the sea bed. The clouds weren’t supposed to be perfectly white and reflective. They were meant to be large dollops of sea foam that languidly drift by in their scummy form.

Azul never felt truly comfortable on the beach, as close as it was to home, but he can’t deny the beauty of it. Though, whatever stability he managed to grasp overtime was being tested. As, in front of him, was something that Azul could have only described in his head as a monster.

“These, creatures,” Azul almost wanted to say ‘things’ but decorum dictated he keep his true thoughts under a veil of polite words, “have a name? Truly?”

Besides, who was Azul to insult prospective contract signers? Just because this once-human creature had their skeleton blooming out of their skin like fatty flower petals didn’t mean they were any less deserving of respect. Well, as much respect as the value of this golden contract in his hands had. The more use he has out of this creature, the more he’s willing to extend some of his carefully cultivated olive branches.

However, Azul has many doubts as to whether he can make this creature do anything. By all means, it looked no different than a corpse, despite the fact it didn’t smell like it. In fact, it didn’t smell of anything horrible. The sunlight reflected off of the delicate bones stained red with mucus and coagulating viscera, an odd black mass that beat within the cage of its ribs, and yet anything below that was still of warm flesh that twitched against the sand they all stood on. All this, and yet no scent.

Azul’s stomach was still tight, and the doll-like stillness of this creature the Ramshackle Prefect had dragged from the sea did nothing to comfort that.

“Everything has a name, Azul,” they spoke as they drew in the sand in a language Azul will never understand, “Though, not all of us are equipped to hear it. And not all of us should try and learn them. Let alone say them.”

They spoke to him of their name and its meaning but the Prefect never told him what it actually was. Just another piece of information that he will never learn no matter how hard he or Jade may search the internet. They only told Azul a first name, a potentially fake first name.

Time had passed since the raid of his vault and the destruction of his paper collection, and yet still Azul refused to speak of the Prefect’s human name. They never once commented on that, and Azul isn’t sure if he should be irritated or relieved.

“A warning like that makes me think that I shouldn’t attempt to make a deal with this… friend of yours.” If even its very name was a danger, a curse waiting to be cast, it wouldn’t do him or his customers any good to have it near.

“And yet you stand here with a contract at hand, with your feet still in the sand,” they pointed out and extended their hand, as though to invite him near. “If you tell me you’re a cautious individual, don’t get angry when I laugh in your face.”

And how can Azul fault them for that? One look at the company he keeps would speak of his nature as a risk taker.

Even so, he sighed as he extended the contract to the creature that sat below them both. “Does it need a pen?”

This creature, with its skull empty of any eyes save for the slugs that rested within, signed a name Azul could not read, with a finger dyed in the ink of its chest organ. The creature was embraced by the tide as it rose past his knees and soaked the once dry sand.

Azul was compelled to give an order. “Bring more of your brethren to me. As many as you can.”

It sank beneath the waves.

The contract in his hands was the only evidence that it ever existed.

“Did you know?” Azul drummed his fingers on the head of the first creature the Prefect brought to him.

“Know what?”

“That I was Ɔ̸͍̠̳̈́̎̊ʞ̷̳̥̭̀̔͗ǐ̴̠̞̲̈́̚ɿ̷̨̥̥̍͛́Ɉ̶̳͓̤͆̏̈́-̷͉̱͍̋̆̉Я̶̨̠̻̉̂̚ɒ̷̤̘̬͆̓̈́l̶̛͔̯͖̑͝ first promise? Rather romantic, don’t you think?” The skull under Azul’s fingers lost its structure and became inky sludge. It blended into his shadow, swallowed as though water to a sponge. ”It’s a memory that still lingers. A memory gifted to us all.”

“…So, contracts are promises to you now, are they?”

“Is that wrong?”

“To you, I suppose it isn’t.” Contracts, promises, oaths, all those things mean the same to the one named Azul. A piece of one’s being put on a platter for others to witness, and for Azul to grab and manipulate as he pleased. At least, that’s how he once was, before the Prefect ripped all of them away from his greedy hands. “The distinctions are already lost to you.” Dead, gone, never to return, “No use in trying to make corrections if you’ve already forgotten.”

Dipping his hand into the surging tides, Azul pulls out papers of glittering gold. It’s a sight that would catch the attention of anyone. A gaudy shine, and yet the prefect leaned in as though in front of a comforting campfire.

“This color, you seem to like it,” he waved them about, and in an instant, as though a blooming drop of paint, the ocean became just as vibrant as the pages in his hands, “though, despite these contracts once being an open gateway for us all, for whatever reason, there is nothing stirring within.”

“How odd,” they replied, only speaking to reflect Azul’s thoughts rather than their own. They knew the reason why, but there’s no point.

“I have to ask…why?” The contracts, in all their glittering gold, had long since lost their appeal to Azul. “Why rely on the one named Azul to reign these ‘guests’ in line?”

“Because of your love for the material.” The sea sought to lap at his defeater’s feet, but they inched away at the last moment. “I trusted in that selfishness of yours.”

“Trust…” Azul let the contracts dissolve into tar bubbles, “You still can, if you wish.”

“...trust in you?”

“If not in me,” His voice was layered with others, of familiar tones and hisses. A drop of ink fell from the corner of his mouth as an array of fused bones tore through the side of his torso, “then is there someone else you want to trust? Go on, take your pick. If you want, you can have all of them.”

Familiar skulls hang from the blooming bone tree like fruit. At the top, one can see the structures that make up Jade and Floyd, their jaws loose, as though frozen in a mournful wail.

Take your pick. As though they are gifts.

It was comforting, this high tide. The cold feel of the sea over his legs, the scent of salt that entered his nose, all of it almost made him want to take everything off and swim in the form he hated to show others. However, that’s not what Azul’s here for.

The raised waters refused to go back and in some part of his mind that still slept, Azul knew that there would be someone within the greedy sea. This was part of the contract, after all, and it had been too many days since the first visit.

The bloated swell of these waves told him that something, or someone was coming. And there was that odd, misplaced smell in the air that Azul couldn’t quite put his finger on but he recognized. He wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for the Ramshackle Prefect’s word guaranteeing his safety.

The contract you made is as strong as a faerie’s promise. You’ll be fine. Go to the sea. You can feel it calling for you, right?

“Ah, how nice,” Floyd drawled out as he stomped and splashed around with his legs. “Hey, Azul, can I go for a swim? Just for a bit. I don’t think I’ll ever get to swim in currents as strong as these.”

And it was only because of their curiosity that Azul managed to convince Jade and Floyd to come with him.

Azul pushed up his glasses, “Be my guest. If you see any ‘stray fishes,’ be sure to chase them our way. Perhaps they’ll be in need of some directions.”

The words brought a polite smile to Jade’s face and a feral one to Floyd’s own. Floyd dove into the sea, not caring where his clothes may land.

Jade placed a hand over his chest as he said, “Then, I’ll be sure to greet our guests when they come.”

Azul gave a clean clap of his hands, allowing a few, almost giddy chuckles escape him. “Be sure to attend to them. Give them our warmest welcome.”

And in droves they came. In their various blood and ink limbs, pearls the size of heads, glowing magic crystals that can only be collected from the crushing pressure of the bottom of the sea, coins from long lost ships, artifacts that are thought to be only in legends.

How could anyone blame Azul for embracing those gifts?

And how could anyone blame him for his ignorance? It was only natural for Azul to have Jade and Floyd follow this hoard. If he can find the source of their treasures, then he can have these vile creatures focus on other things, on menial chores that never seem to get done.

How was Azul supposed to know that it would take months before they came back?

“Do you regret it at all,” they asked as they wiped a hand over the sand, “making your home this way?”

“Why mourn? What is there to lament?” Azul knew that expression upon the Prefect’s face. “Bear witness to all of my efforts! Of what I…of what we have brought to this dry and empty world. Is it not wonderful?”

If one digs their fingers into the various mounds, they’d find beautiful gold coins. If one dances on the shores, they’ll find many faces, many friends wishing to dance with them.

“It is beautiful. Like an attempt to restore a painting, only for the original vision to be snuffed and covered with the restorer’s own. The attempt is a sight to behold, if only as a reminder of what you, well, all of you can’t do.”

Of course, the designs of those coins were nonsensical. Heads can be tails and tails can be heads. It wasn’t made by human hands. They won’t rust, they’ll simply turn to dust. And those dancers, their faces, features and bodies don’t matter. They don’t exist, they can’t be anyone’s partner. They come forth and fade like a distant dream.

They’ve all existed as something else, this the Prefect knows, but much like everything else, it was all swallowed up and spat back out like noxious bile. Azul called it beautiful.

“…and what would that be, dear friend?”

The last dear friend found a sand dollar, one of the few pieces left of an old world. It is a comfort, knowing what lays in their head wasn’t just an illusion.

“Originality. You cannot make. You cover, warp, and replace.”

They held the sand dollar close, away from the writhing tendrils of ink and rot that wanted to stab at what they missed. And that expression under all that sludge, one would think all of them angry. The bubbles popped and spat out shrapnels of bone.

The Ramshackle Prefect did not move. They continued to admire the sand dollar, not caring for the barrage, not twitching even a bit. And they gained not a scratch.

A large tide, as though picked up by the hands of the wind, rose to lick the clouds before crashing upon the mass unable to exit the ocean. The sea of gold turned back into dark and murky depths, refusing to reflect the sun’s dying rays.

“Once upon a time,” Azul spoke, looking like his human self again, “those sand dollars used to be a viable currency, somewhere.”

“And not any more?” they asked as they tapped it.

“No. What value is there in the perishable?”

“Aren’t all things?” The sand turned smooth and they allowed themselves to relax back.

“Perishable? Of course, at one point in time. But it won’t stay that way.” Azul too sat down. There was no discomfort in the cold waves washing over his shoulders.

“And yet it will persist.” They clipped.

“The sand dollars?”

“Perishing will still persist for all things.” They smiled, as though the thought was comforting.

“Including you and I?” Azul’s voice whispered.

“Including you and I.“ The Prefect’s voice was clear.

“Don’t make jokes like that. We’re here to enjoy the last of this place. Of course the sand dollars are still here. Of course the sun still sets. We’re experiencing the last of the temporary.” He laughed but there was no mirth there.

“Careful there, you’re getting frustrated.” They replied in turn.

“Can it be helped? To imply that all the hard work that’s been done, all the strings that had to be pulled, to imply that somehow or another, that we are temporary? It’s more than a little laughable.”

“Then laugh all you want,” they quietly chuckled, “I won’t turn away from such a fact. I refuse to ignore it, no matter how comforting that would be.”

When Jade and Floyd came back, they brought in seeds and various forms of meat. To Azul’s eye, there was nothing wrong with them, save for the dubiousness of their origins. However, all things are subject to his scrutinizing eye when the Leech brothers bring him anything.

Even so, Azul had full confidence that whatever they brought back would not hurt him or his customers. How could he doubt them after they were missing for months? He was comforted that they came back at all. Of course, he would never say that to their faces, the smile they would give would make Azul want to retreat to the nearest pot.

Soft and squishy, real chewable, that heart of yours.

The Prefect of Ramshackle told him only a few days after Jade and Floyd returned. They weren’t smiling. Azul was still in that state of celebratory high, still falling from that peak of happiness that Azul wasn’t truly alone again. So when the next words left their mouth, he couldn’t keep himself from wrapping his fingers around their neck.

It’s tragic, truly, that they were swallowed and spat back out. Tell me Azul, how do your kind arrange funerals?

He didn’t want to hear it. He had to squeeze their neck to shut them up. Who were they to burden him with these words, to reach into his head and wretch out the guilt that's been buried for days?

It doesn’t matter that Jade and Floyd refuse to say where they’ve been. It doesn’t matter that their heights fluctuate and that their skin was too tight for their bones. It doesn’t matter that the treasure they hauled up grew in their storage like a parasitic fungus over their other things.

It didn’t even matter when Jade and Floyd’s legs one day melted into one another. All that mattered to Azul was that they were back, that they remembered him, and spoke with him.

“…Hello there, Jade. Took you long enough to take interest in this conversation.“

No matter how seamlessly the form may change, it always looked painful when one’s face was swapped with another. It resembled a rapidly growing infection that boiled the skin and changed its color before it finally settled down into a recognizable shape.

“I didn’t think you had it in you to drive him away,” he mused, hand on his mouth as though he was truly shocked, “was his company so grating that you needed another conversation partner?”

“I don’t need one,” they flecked sand at Jade, as though that’ll do anything. In the many faces of one that can corrode a world, their anger will mean nothing, “though, I can’t say you’re wrong. But it’s not as if you’re any better.”

“Then how about me?”

A sharp slice, like a butcher’s knife through fresh meat. Jade was split clean down the middle. The left half fell into the waters, frothing as tainted oil would, before Floyd rose with a sharp grin that had too many teeth to count. Jade’s side oozed out ink, solidified, then he looked like himself again, as though nothing had ever happened.

There’s no need for them to worry about pain. Not ever again.

The Prefect stared, eyes reflecting a soft and dying light, “No matter the face, conversations with you will always be grating. But I am lonely, and I’m a fool that cares too much.”

“Does it really matter though?” Floyd leaned back, giving his arms a good stretch, “It’s not like Jade and I went anywhere. We’re just…”

“Part of an interesting whole,” Jade had his hand over his heart, as though talking about a friend.

“It was gross at first. Hurt a lot too,” and yet, Floyd shrugged, “But eh, don’t really care about it anymore. Nothing much we can do about it anyway.”

The Prefect closed their eyes, giving a low, shaking sigh. There wasn’t even a spirit in there for rebellion.

“This is for the best,” Jade says, “at the time, it was our best chance for survival.”

“Yeah, and in these cold waters, taking the time to weigh the pros and cons will get you killed.” Floyd says.

They hold no lamentations about being seen as one and the same. The truth was made clear to Jade and Floyd that they were two entirely different people. The whispers and sayings of others hold no influence over this singular truth. The little humans can speak all they want, be confused all they want. It provides entertainment to them all the same.

They are twins, but the word was nothing special to them. Unlike humans, children of Jade’s and Floyd’s species are plentiful. They come from a clutch, but only a few are expected to survive. And in order for them to live, they became partners, and only then did they acknowledge each other as twins once the fight was over.

And when they graduated from simply just trying to live another day, they decided they needed to have fun. It’s why Jade and Floyd have taken to Azul so. Though, how they choose to play along with Azul is vastly different.

Floyd wanted something to thrill him. When Azul gave the okay to chase after this hoard he made a contract with, Floyd was hoping to encounter something gross, rotted, like the leftovers of a half-eaten fish. The creatures that left all those gifts moved so slowly and looked so squishy that he really wanted to see how easy they were to tear apart.

Emotionally of course.

Jade, on the other hand, was not interested in messing with Azul’s new henchmen. He’s aware that there are many odd creatures in this world, though to actually bear witness to them was another thing entirely. So, Jade had to watch them. He needed to see their place of rest, how they moved in the sea, and how in the world did they manage to survive for so long when they seem to have no survival skills of their own.

After all, it was the Ramshackle Prefect that found one of their kind.

There was a cave, a yawning opening of one in the middle of flat, undisturbed sand. It had no reason to be there. The stone it was made out of had a texture similar to coral, and yet the currents haven't smoothed it down at all. There was nothing to protect this cave. And yet the various life forms that have been taken in by Azul squeezed into it.

Jade and Floyd went in after them.

They dove into a cave that yawned to no one, with nothing to keep it company.

They swam in a sea that gradually got warmer and warmer as the light faded, as the gentle song of currents slowly faded away.

In that small little twist that had Jade and Floyd swimming downwards, bubbles brushed past their skin. Little flecks of black worms swam up, crawled over them.

Then, they were snared by a gaze, by millions of eyes right at the bottom of that seemingly endless cave. It was bright. It was captivating. It radiated warmth.

And it was lonely. Millions upon millions of different eyes, so many different voices and memories, and yet it was so lonely.

With one simple look, it has shared its longing with Jade and Floyd. Their skin, their head, their spine, their organs and even their blood, all of it felt the weight of loneliness.

All of them became alight with a searing pain, as though they were taken apart and spread across a mountain of salt.

Join, or forever have this body scream for its missing self.

“It hurts, you know? Nobody deserved any of this. And I don’t deserve to be alone.”

“Then, what should we do, to have you join us? Your loneliness hurts to witness. We do not wish hurt upon our kin.”

This monster no longer reflects the faces of anyone the Prefect used to know. It has become the sea, a small part of the sky, and is even infecting the sand they sit upon.

But they do not run. They simply breathed in the breeze. It no longer haunts their lungs.

“…let me enjoy this air, while I still have it,” they want this small mercy, “if I am to gift my memories to the rising tides, I’d rather witness the last bit of what used to be.”

“Then you will join?”

“Then I will join.”

Once the winds have traveled their path, once the sun has closed its brilliant eye, and once all the stars have blinked out of the sky, there will be the sound of the last pair of legs plunging into the ocean.

[villainessprefect]

title: Hunger

summary: Idia would truly do anything for Ortho, even if it means spoiling him with his favorite food.

characters: Idia Shroud & Ortho Shroud

word count: 2735

note: my piece for the @twsthorrorzine !! Please note it does include cannibalism and ch. 6 info!

Read on AO3

Idia has always found comfort in his room.

There are no eyes on him, no one to make fun of him, and no one to tell him what to do. He can relax and indulge in his fantasies, escaping from reality. Here, he can become a god whether it be through gaming or giving life to his latest creations.

No one is allowed to enter his sanctuary. This is his place and his place alone. The only other person he would dare to allow in willingly is Ortho. And even then his brother isn’t always at his side. As much as he yearns for him to be, Idia knew that his brother’s time had already passed long ago. The Ortho with him now could never replace him, but that didn’t mean he stopped thinking of his brother.

So, when he hears the door open, Idia is quick to scowl. It may have been a new employee who was foolish enough to stumble into his room or one of the older members who looked after him from a young age. Regardless, he hates how people intrude upon his safe haven.

The elder Shroud turns in his chair, ready to give the command for whoever it is to leave. As long as he’s in STYX, he has power over everyone here. But when he turns to see who it is, Idia freezes.

It’s Ortho.

Bright yellow eyes meet his. They're not synthetic, nor made of glass. He flashes a smile, showing off those familiar sharp teeth, the same as his. They aren't perfect like how Idia created them to be. Blue hair burns as bright as his own, flickering too. It's not a mimicry of his, but rather proof that the curse runs through his blood.

His body is free from its metal confines, flesh replacing it instead. The flame on his chest may be gone, but Idia feels like he can still see it lingering over his brother as he breathes. He watches his chest with every breath taken as if trying to confirm that he really is alive.

"Idy," Ortho chirps. His voice is upbeat and warm, soothing like an angel comforting him during his darkest days. He wants to hear him speak again, more. He wants to hear his voice over and over. He needs to.

Instead of granting him that wish, he permits another. Ortho collides with his brother, wrapping his arms around him and clinging to him. Despite his cheery demeanor, his grip is tight as if afraid to let go.

"O-Ortho..." Idia breathes out his name, voice daring to shatter into a million pieces. His fingers twitch, hesitant to return the embrace. He's scared that this may not be real and if he were to hold him, then he'd disappear and Ortho would be gone. Again.

But he feels the warmth radiating from him. It's different from what he's used to. Motors and internal parts recreating a sense of warmth like a human's but could never perfectly capture it.

Despite this feeling of warmth, Ortho is still cold. The cheek pressing up against his skin is icy, as if touched by the lord of death himself.

But Idia doesn't care about the finer details. What matters is that Ortho is here. With him.

As he finally embraces his brother, Idia can feel the tears pricking at his eyes. He doesn't deserve this, he knows, but he's unbelievably happy that this outcome is real. Having Ortho back in his life was a forbidden wish that no one could ever grant him. It shouldn't be a possibility. As someone who practically works alongside death, he should know the probability of this happening to be zero.

"Idy..." Ortho breathes out his name again. It only makes Idia's grip on him tighten.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes over and over. It comes out along with overflowing tears. He's a pathetic sight.

"It's okay, Idy." Ortho's voice helps him calm down. The little hum he does while rubbing his back helps too. When Idia is more composed, he's able to pull back and bask in his brother's glory.

Ortho keeps up a kind smile. There's no hatred behind his eyes, no anger directed at him for past mistakes. It's all love. And it breaks Idia's heart.

But there's something different in his eyes. A flash of desire, a craving that was unknown to him.

"I'm hungry."

"Ah, yeah, of course you are..." Idia clears his throat. His voice is still quivering. He never lets Ortho go. He can't. "Wh-What do you want to eat? We can get your favorite."

The thought of doing something so mundane with his brother brings him joy. That emotion is tossed out when he finds Ortho's smile fall.

Had he done something wrong? Was his brother okay? What was going on? Panic begins to rise in his chest with questions ready to be hurled out as if by a maniac.

"I'd love to, but...I want something different." Ortho bites down on his lip looking guilty.

"What do you want? I'll get you anything, Ortho."

Idia is desperate. He needs to keep Ortho here; he needs to keep him happy. As if on cue, Ortho's face lights up, his smile returning and his eyes sparkling.

"Well, since you asked..."

~...~

Whatever Ortho wants, he gets. That is what Idia decided. The younger Shroud deserves everything and anything his heart desires. Thankfully, Ortho only wants to be at his brother's side. He clings to him as he settles into the living world once more all the while enjoying their hobbies. It's as if he never left.

"Aww, you won again, Idy!" A playful pout forms as Ortho taps his finger over the controller.

Idia can't help but laugh. While he loves his brother dearly, that doesn't mean he's going to sit back and let Ortho win.

"Told you I would. I'll show you the tricks so you can totally destroy others. The only person who is allowed to beat you is me."

Ortho giggles and agrees. But he also makes the promise to beat him one day.

As they play late into the night, a nauseating growl disrupts their fun. It comes from the younger brother. Normally he's the one to remind Idia to eat, but it seems he lost track of time. Now his hunger is beginning to bark.

"Can we take a break, Idy?" He asks innocently with a hand over his stomach. "We never got dinner."

"Oh..." Idia forgets that he can survive off energy drinks and chips or nothing at all for extended periods of time. His body may hate him for it, but he never cared for the consequences. Now that Ortho is back, he should clean up his bad habits. If not for himself, then for his little brother. "Yeah, I can put in an order for something."

"Idy..." Ortho whines and gives him a pleading look. "Can I have that again?"

"Again?" Idia raises a brow. His finger hovers over his phone's screen. Something in his gut tells him to say no. That disgusting feeling that something is wrong and he shouldn't give in to his younger brother's pleas. Yet, he can't help himself.

Whatever Ortho wants, he gets.

"Y-Yeah, sure. I just...gotta figure something out first."

"Thanks, Idy!" Ortho giggles as he jumps into his brother's arms. "You're the best!"

~...~

Blot. It's something the Shrouds are used to. They need it to survive whether they like it or not. The inky substance controls their lives. They can't escape it, even in death.

It stains Ortho's body. The younger brother had dismissed it as nothing serious, but as time went on it had only gotten worse. It started with his fingertips. His hands looked as if they were dipped in ink. The black goo had spread up his arms, reaching to his elbows. He left a mess wherever he went, leaving drops of blot as a sign. Then his flames began to shift in color. Black flames that looked unnatural, even more so than his blue ones.

"I'm okay, Idy," Ortho reassures. He proves it to his brother by moving around with ease. He spins on one foot and stops with precision. His arms are held outward, blot dripping down onto the floor. He smiles brightly despite all this and Idia can't find a hint of deceit in him. "I'll be better after I've eaten."

Idia takes in a breath. Logically, he knows this is wrong. The blot that stains his brother and how it spreads. He worries over him and frets over what may happen.

But he's also worried about his appetite. It's growing, as a young boy's should, but at an alarming rate. It's not a problem for his big brother. It is a little...troublesome, but Idia can get away without having to do any of the dirty work.

"What do you want today?" He asks. There's no point to it. The answer is always the same, but inquiring makes things feel a little more normal.

Ortho hums, placing an inky finger underneath his chin.

"I want...the scientist, the one who helped run tests with you yesterday." He answers. "He said some mean things about you, right? I think he's a good choice."

"You sure?" Idia is indifferent to his brother's choice. Those that worked here were all faceless, nameless nobodies. He didn't care for them and neither did they care for him. They could easily be replaced. But his brother couldn't. "I don't mind, just double checking."

"I'm sure. The less jerks who hurt you in the world, the better."

"Alright."

Idia picks up his tablet and gets to work. The names and images of employees pop up one by one. Idia doesn’t recognize most of them, he never did. They’re just people who were employed by his family, nothing more, nothing less. And now they were being looked at like food. Names on a menu with an appetizing picture beside them.

It makes inputting Ortho’s order easier. He has no attachment to these people. He doesn’t care. Perhaps a small part of him thinks this is sickening and wrong, but there was nothing right about his life in the first place. Another mistake here or there wouldn’t do much. Besides, there is no one to tell him he can’t do this, especially when he’s from the family that has control over the entire facility.

It's easy to sweep under the rug too. A missing scientist at STYX could be brushed off as a lost soul getting too close to a Phantom. The risk is low but still there. Death is always looming around the corner here, or at least legions below their feet.

They lived in a dangerous place. The cold air that traveled throughout the facility, their home, was always calling for more. The monsters that lived below were always crying for a way out, for more victims to take. One wrong move and those creatures could easily take a life. Or two. Especially those that were locked behind the gate that only the Shroud family could control.

Idia thinks he should feel guilty over this, but he can't find it in him to care. He's cold and uncaring towards anyone outside his family.

"One of the Charons will have them here in a few mins. Think you can wait?"

"I can."

"Perfect."

Idia doesn't catch how his brother's smile widens more than it should. Nor how his teeth seem sharper than usual. It's okay though. Ortho will be okay after he's had his meal.

~...~

Ortho is...alive.

Bright, wide eyes have lost their pupils. All he can do is stare into the gaping holes and imagine that his own brother is looking his way. His mouth is lost within an inky black mess. The only time he can pinpoint where it is, is when it opens wide and bares his teeth. His hair has lost its blue color, now dipped in nothing but darkness. It still imitates flames, albeit a little weaker.

What once was flesh has turned into blot. A dark, goopy substance that colors every part of him. He still retains a human-like silhouette, but he's become something much more. He's more advanced than his robotic counterpart, able to control the ink that is his body at will. He always keeps his outline the same though as he is still Ortho.

Throughout all this change, his stomach still aches.

A slab of meat is placed before him. It’s hard to tell what it is exactly. To the untrained eye, they might mistake it for an animal. But to those within STYX, they know exactly what it is.

Sometimes the meat is juicier, red liquid smearing the plate and even daring to slide off it. It’s filling and mouthwatering. Sometimes it looks like an indescribable mess. Chunks of organs are slapped down onto a plate and mixed together into something that looks inhuman. And sometimes there’s a bit of flesh that remains. Skin that was too attached to the thick piece of meat and meant to act as garnish.

Regardless of the presentation, the size, the flavor, it’s catered to Ortho like a five-star meal. He is too hungry to care about anything else and simply wants to eat. When his mouth opens, revealing his brilliant white teeth that are now much sharper than Idia's, it's also impossible to see further in. It’s almost as if one is staring into a pit of darkness.

Sharp teeth sink into their next meal. They easily penetrate the fleshy substance, ripping it apart piece by piece. Blood drips from the chunk of meat and it dribbles onto his form. It’s hard to tell where the red and black liquids collide. The ink overtakes any red stains that would have disgraced his human body. 

Ortho is always careful with his meal despite the mess he makes. He chews on the meat, enjoying the fat and how squishy it is between his teeth. The pile of flesh gets chopped up into tiny pieces and goes down his inky throat. His plate is always clean and he never leaves even a scrap behind. It’s as if there had been nothing there to begin with. The only sign to prove otherwise are the red smears left on the plate.

Eyes shut and an echoing laughter escapes despite his mouth seeming to be closed.

"Thank you for this meal, Idy," he says before taking another chunk of meat into his mouth. His voice has changed, almost sounding drawled out.

It's a sickening sight, really. He should be holding back the bile that ought to be trying to escape from his lips. But this is something he's used to. The sight of his used-to-be-deceased brother now turned into some sort of unclassified Phantom who feeds off of the flesh of the living.

He's a monster.

But he isn't.

Ortho is his little brother.

He still wants to be with Idia, and still clings to him as if everything was normal. He can't play games that well as ink messes up the controller, but he can try. His body isn't as tangible as it should be, but he can still envelop Idia in a hug and bring him warmth despite his cold ink.

"I've got some more on the way," Idia says.

Ortho's appetite never stopped growing. One piece won't do him any good. Slices were getting bigger with each passing day. At this point, he might just have to start eating people whole.

"Really?" Despite lacking any type of visible change in his form, Idia can hear the eagerness in his voice.

"Yup. Got a whole feast ready for you." Idia grins.

Idia made a list of all the people who badmouthed his brother. Those who called him a monster or dared to even suggest they should get rid of him — or worse, keep him as a test subject. It made his blood boil. Couldn't they see that this was Ortho? His precious little brother and not some abomination?

Ortho deserves better. He was given a second chance and his foolish older brother wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Perhaps the world would be better if it were just the two of them. Or at least if the population shrunk. What's a few lives lost at the cost of keeping his brother alive?

"Idy, I'm hungry..."

[llondonfog]

💚✒️

[roseinbloom02]

Twst zine

https://x.com/TwstHorrorZine/status/1709770258863825198?t=97y_IsoQwZuT76dmQUfvFw&s=09

To all my twst friends (not sure if the zine has a tumblr) there is a free digital (horror) zine available on gumroad. There is a merch option available for $5+ and all proceeds go to Equality Florida. Please check it out and donate of you can, but if you can't, that's fine too!

It's very dead dove though, so please read with caution and at your own risk

[lemonwerewolf]

Overblot Riddle and Leona wallpapers I made for the first TWST Horror Zine

[ukkipeach]

This actually gives me goosebumps

WIP shot for TWST Horror Zine

This was a progress check-in showcasing the idea I had for the zine. I never showed the full completed image online, but this captures the tone of the piece I feel. I made Jamil into a giant snake monster rampaging Scarabia in the climax of Book 4. He spots the "heroes" hiding behind the pillar as they try to avoid being seen.

[twsthorrorzine]

And finally, we are happy to welcome back Fa♯Min! Not only is he an illustrator for the zine, Night Terrors has the honor of welcoming him as our cover artist!

[suntails]

(mild gore)

fealty

[zorinanana]

This is the piece I made for the TWST Horror Zine!!! I'm especially happy with how the lighting turned out on this lol.

[miss-tc-nova]

Hunted - Leona Kingscholar & "Yuu"

My piece for the Twst Horror Zine. I had a lot of fun thinking of the possible terror and re-watching one of my favorite horror movies.

Premise: Backpacking around Twisted Wonderland goes bad

Words: 2,962

Trigger Warnings: implied death, stalking, isolation

Art done by the incredibly gifted HoKeki on Twitter!

~~~~~

October 23, 20XX

I’m not sure how to start this, so here goes.

Welcome to my journal! Over the next several months, my friends and I will be backpacking across Twisted Wonderland, taking in the sights and cultures across the world. This is going to be my first excursion and I thought it would be fun to document it.

As anyone who knows me might guess, I’m bringing Ace and Deuce along, though I’m not sure how they came to agree on it when they never seem to agree on anything. Even right now, Ace is badgering Deuce about all the stuff he’s bringing. I agree Deuce might’ve overpacked a bit, but I don’t know how Ace thinks he’s going to be fine with just two sets of clothes and his pajamas. At least I don’t have to wear them. So I’ll be spending a lot more time with these dummies, but I’m excited it’s my best friends I get to share this adventure with.

Our first stop is going to be Sunrise City in the Sunset Savanna. From there, we’ll probably go east to the Shaftlands and then maybe up into the Kingdom of Heroes. The great thing is that we get to decide as we go. I was pretty adamant about starting in Sunrise City though. I’ve always wanted to visit since I learned about its culture and how intermingled it is with the wildlife. Also, being directly south of the Queendom of Roses made it an easy choice to start with.

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough. It’ll be a struggle to keep my excitement in check enough to get even an hour of sleep. Though I should probably finish packing first. Thank goodness Riddle isn’t here or I’d never hear the end of my unpreparedness. But that’s part of the fun, right? The spontaneity and not knowing what adventure the next day will bring. It’s the surprises on the horizon that I want to experience. Even the mishaps—because you know that’s gonna happen with the three of us.

I better cut it here. Ace is about to get punched in the face and I still gotta pack.

Peace!

~~~~~

October 24, 20XX

We finally made it! It took so long the sun is already starting to sink in the sky, but we’re here! Our plane was surprisingly small. In fact, the port here is more rural than I was expecting. It feels a lot more wild—like a safari.

Still, it’s absolutely breathtaking. Clear skies shine bright and the plains ripple like liquid gold in the breeze. Only the captivating local culture could stop me from staring at it for hours. The people are really kind. Most were obviously trying to make money off us, but even they were nice. And it all looked so amazing we had to drag Ace away from a shop selling “Bone Cookies.” This is literally our first day and the temptation to spend money is strong.

Right now, we’re in a cozy guest cabin. Some government officials questioned us about the purpose of our visit, where we’re going, all that stuff. When we told them we planned on taking the scenic route to the capital, the radio chatter started. They insisted we find another route, but the golden plains are one of the “Must See” views of the Sunset Savanna. Plus, we don’t have the money for fancy transportation. I’m sure we’ll be fine with a three-day walk, especially when there are rest stops that have some of the best hospitality.

In the end, our names, details, and contact information were taken. They even took pictures of us from different angles. It’s as if they’re expecting something to happen.

Some of the locals acted odd too, after we told them we were heading through the plains. Some gave us extra food, one gave us a discount, and one strangely gave us a compass—all with the same weird look. Still, I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Anyway, it was an exciting start but I can’t wait to get trekking. I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

~~~~~

October 25, 20XX

Waking up to Ace and Deuce arguing is going to get old real fast, but I should probably get used to it. They are “best friends” after all.

After the commotion, we prepared to head out. The locals again reminded us not to get distracted. Explicit instructions told us that there were to be no detours and no delays. Honestly, it started to kill the excitement. However, it’s going to take three days to reach the capital—one day to get to the first camp, one to get to the second, and one to get to the city—so it’s probably just proper precaution.

A single step into the gold plains was all it took for the grass to dwarf us. Elephant grass is notoriously tall, but I couldn’t have prepared for just how small we were. It felt like being thrown into a maze; yellow grass, the dirt under our feet, and the blue sky above were all that could be seen. It became intimidating along with its wonder and beauty. Fortunately, there’s only one path.

Not long after we began, Ace started talking tales of some banished prince. He heard the story from a shop owner he bought cookies from after being kicked from the cabin earlier. The reason I hadn’t heard anything was because of how recent it had been. Supposedly, just days ago, he tried to overthrow the king and murder the heir. People called for his execution, but the king didn’t have the heart to kill his own brother. Instead, he was exiled. But while being transported out of the country, he was set free by his followers—his jailers’ bodies were found maimed beyond recognition. Now the rumors say he’s hiding out to the east in the Shadowlands.

I didn’t want to hear any more, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell Ace to stop. Instead, he just kept talking, probably trying to scare us. And yet I think he also scared himself. It didn’t help that we could hear things rustling in the grass. I thought I saw something once, but couldn’t say for sure. Even though the locals said most wildlife would ignore us, it’s unnerving not to see what we can hear.

Despite the spooky stories, we made good time. The rest stop was within reach well before the sun started to set. Camp guards ushered us inside the fence, demanding our names, birthdays, reasons for travel—the same information we provided at the outpost. It must’ve been to check that we were on the list of expected visitors, which is a little strange considering I noticed ours were the only names on it.

It’s a small campsite. There are a few cabins around the clearing. A massive ring circles the whole place, dotted with devices that appear newly installed. Deuce says they’re for magic defense. Nobody can use magic in the camp and magic can’t get in. For all the security, that’s probably why we were instructed to arrive before sundown.

Well, I better get some sleep. Another long day of walking awaits tomorrow.

~~~~~

October 26, 20XX

A member of the camp staff woke us early this morning—the sun hadn’t even broken the horizon. All color had forsaken his face as he rushed us to dress and pack. No answers were offered to our question, only echoes that we leave immediately.

And again, as we stepped foot into the wilderness, we were warned to stay on the path and stop for nothing.

On our way out, the ruckus could be heard. They found something unusual at one of the barrier projectors. It would make sense to get us out of the way so they could focus on repairs. Yet I can’t help wondering if the hole being dug on the outskirts of the campsite had something to do with it. What was it for? What happened last night while we were all asleep? Did something get in? Where was it now?

That must be my imagination talking. It was early so it would be easy to misunderstand the whole thing. Besides, we needed to leave earlier since today’s trek was longer than yesterday. The sun would be long gone before we reached the next camp otherwise.

If only the boys could’ve kept their mouths shut. They argued the whole way. Ace sulked about not getting to sleep in and Deuce’s phone was missing. He demanded that Ace give it back, but Ace denied having it. The accusations probably come from last night’s teasing over Deuce messaging his mom, but I think he misplaced it in a different pocket. Hopefully he finds it soon or he’ll have to spend some of that souvenir money on a replacement.

Their fighting slowed us down, delaying our arrival at the second camp until just after sundown. Our reception by the staff was rough. After being jerked inside and held under duress, the interrogation went on until they could confirm we were the names on the list of travelers. So much for the hospitality.

There were no apologies as they put us in a cabin for the night. That’s where everything in Ace’s pack got dumped out and it still wasn’t enough to convince Deuce about his phone. So the arguing continued, even as I left to get a break from it all.

This second rest stop is much like the first. Cabins and staff equipment are scattered around. Though people are quiet at night, I could hear animals beyond the barrier. I think I even saw one. It was big, maybe the size of an antelope. It’s crazy how comfortable the wildlife is so close to settlements like this.

Well, I’m tucked in now and Deuce and Ace are pouting in their own beds. We’ll set out again in the morning and, by sunset tomorrow, we’ll be in Sunrise City.

~~~~~

October 27, 20XX

We messed up.

Ace really didn’t have Deuce’s phone. But neither did Deuce.

Like the day before, we were woken up early and sent on our way. Camp staff barely gave us time to pack before shoving us out. There was no time to question the hasty behavior and it left a sour taste in everyone’s mouth. Still, we went on our way as planned.

After noon, Deuce made us stop, yelling at us to be quiet. I thought he was crazy, but then I heard it too.

It was his mom’s ringtone.

Coming from the elephant grass.

We couldn’t stop him. He just took off. It was a blind run as Ace and I tried to keep up. We never would’ve caught up if he hadn’t stopped. In his hand was his phone, still ringing yet entirely useless. The screen was shattered and the frame bent. It was a miracle it could still even ring. How it got there and how it got destroyed is a mystery—one made worse by the fact that we couldn’t find the path again.

No one could say for sure which way we ran and the grass gave us nothing to find our bearings. Our phones were just handy clocks with no service in the middle of nowhere. Only the compass gave us any consolation. Surely heading south will get us out of here.

To make matters worse, night fell sooner than we anticipated. Making camp was the only sensible solution, no matter how badly we want to get out of here.

Now here I sit, in our little tent, listening to things creeping all around us. I have this nagging feeling that, whatever they are, they’ve been following us and I don’t know if it makes me feel better or worse that I can’t see them.

It’s probably just my paranoia. If we keep going south, we’ll make it out of here tomorrow. By now the savanna guides must realize we’re missing and be looking for us. We’ll be laughing about this whole thing in Sunrise City by lunch, except Deuce who will have to buy a new phone. Because of course this is the kind of trouble we would get ourselves into.

Everything will be fine.  

~~~~~

October 28, 20XX

Maybe my paranoia last night wasn’t just paranoia.

None of us got any sleep at all. Whatever was sneaking through the grass lingered all night, getting louder and louder with their cackling and snarling. When we finally ventured out of the tent this morning, we were greeted with the destruction of our supplies. Everything was scattered, either destroyed or altogether missing. Here and there were pieces of the map, unsalvageable, and the compass was gone. Our bags were placed right outside the tent because keeping food inside is frowned upon for this reason, but now we have no food, no directions, and maybe half our belongings.

There was nothing to do but pick up what we could and continue walking.

Ace’s pessimism didn’t help. He’s convinced it was the banished prince at our camp, but all we could tell from the flattened grass was that they were large creatures. Still, the constant talk of our doom began to bother me and Deuce. I just hope whatever they are, they realize we don’t have anything else and leave us alone.

I don’t know how, but we must’ve gotten turned around somewhere. We tried to follow the sun, but each step was just more and more grass, hiding the unknown, letting us hope that the end is just one more step. Now the sky is black and we’re still here. We’re exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. So we set up camp to spend another night in this place.

~~~~~

~~~~~

October 29, 20XX

I’m getting really scared now.

Our tent was shaken by a fight just outside last night, but we were all too scared to make a sound. In the morning, not a word was said as we walked. Only this time, we knew the noises in the grass were them. They are following us. No, stalking is more accurate. I can hear them snicker and growl. I’m sure if I reached into the grass, I would touch one.

But they have nothing on the banished prince.

I’m not sure how, but I always knew it wasn’t him stalking us but his hyena henchmen. They’re destructive and menacing, but he’s a monster hiding in the shadows. He’s behind this.

I don’t remember when I spotted him, but I could feel his gaze on me, different from the other beasts. His growl shot through my heart and it felt like I had his claws at my throat. Barely veiled by grass, he wanted me to see him. Fangs eager to tear gleamed in that grin. Behind his gaze was nothing but malice, highlighted by the ink dripping across his skin. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t even breathe. I was so certain that those bloodthirsty green eyes would be the last thing I ever saw.

And then he was gone. He wasn’t really gone, only gone from sight. There’s no doubt that he and his pack are watching us even now. We’ve been sentenced to death and they’re just toying with us.

We’re never getting out of here. Even if it weren’t for the monsters hunting us, we have no food and no more water. I don’t know if we can survive another night out here. I regret everything. I never should’ve suggested this trip. Because of me, we’re going to die out here. I’m sorry. I’m sorry to Ace and Deuce. I’m sorry to Deuce’s mom and Ace’s family. I’m so sorry I got your boys into this mess. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

I wish this nightmare would just end.

~~~~~

October 30, 20XX

We lost Ace today.

Tension was high. We’re being hunted. We know we’re going to die. The fear of what’s in store for us is sickening. Unlike yesterday, Ace and Deuce couldn’t stop arguing. A fight was inevitable. When Ace knocked Deuce to the ground, he took off. We tried to find him—spent hours calling his name. But we never found him.

Long after the sun had gone, the grass finally parted. At first, we were excited. I think I cried. Then I realized where we were.

Rocky, barren land laid before us. Towers of stone loomed above, colder and less forgiving than the grass we escaped. An eerie fog hovered, concealing both new and old monsters. It was bad. We found the Shadowlands. Sunrise City was meant to be south of the port we started at. Those beasts managed to manipulate our path away from our destination and far to the east. He led us here to be slaughtered.

This is where we found Ace’s magic pen.

Nothing else.

We considered our options. The grass gave us no visibility and muddled our sense of direction. On the other hand, the Shadowlands were the prince’s territory. Both were bad choices, but we chose not to go back. At least in the Shadowlands, we had a chance. We knew where we were and how to get to where we needed to. Maybe Deuce and I could still find our way to Sunrise City. Maybe we could send a search party back for Ace.

Maybe this terrible journey will be over soon.

~~~~~

October 31, 20XX

We were wrong! We should’ve gone back!

If anyone finds this, stay out of the Shadowlands!

They took Deuce! They dragged him out of the tent! I can’t hear him scream anymore!

If you see this RUN!

GET OUT OF HERE!

GET OUT BEFORE LEONA KINGSCHOLAR FIN

~~~~~

~~~~~

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist