Darkacua

Entering my almost 30-year-old crisis and I'm more involved in fandoms than I should be.

[darkacua]

Riddle came back a bit… strange from his Overblot.

An Alternate Universe where something possesses Riddle (and possibly the other boys) after his Overblot. It isn't him, yet it is—and no one notices for a while, until someone has the misfortune of running into "him" after midnight.

Inspiration image below the cut

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[darkacua]

You again...

It seems that no matter what he does, Leona is cursed to run into perverted onlookers after his club activities.

Again, a redraw of this piece I did two years ago. I tried to add perspective and angles, but… I'm not good at it :')

[darkacua]

...I beg your finest pardon?

Once again, someone has made a VERY inappropriate comment about Malleus's prominent and well-proportioned cleavage. And once again… he's not happy about it. A redraw of this piece I did about 2 years ago—man, how time flies.

[darkacua]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game), Twisted-Wonderland: The Animation (Anime) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death Relationships: Dire Crowley & Yuu | Player, Grim & Yuu | Player (Twisted-Wonderland) Characters: Dire Crowley, Yuu | Player (Twisted-Wonderland), Grim (Twisted-Wonderland) Additional Tags: Mention of Kidnapping, mention of murder, Not Canon Compliant, sentient ramshackle, there is no happy ending, Short One Shot, One Shot, Accidental Death, Unreliable Narrator, DIRE CROWLEY SHOULD NOT BE TRUSTED Summary:

¿Qué haces cuando se te deja a cargo un ser que solicita como comida algo que es moralmente incorrecto? ¿Algo que cuando es completamente digerido solo deja un vacio en la vida de los demas pero un estomago lleno?

Dire Croweley lo alimenta, por el bien de su escuela.

Here's a short story about what would happen, in my opinion, if Ramshackle were possessed by someone other than the ghosts that haunt the bedroom.

As always, I don't write well in English, so I'm leaving it in Spanish.

[darkacua]

You have the worst luck in the world.

This is a silly idea that's been floating around in my head for a couple of days, and I don't have the physical or mental strength right now to turn it into a full-fledged fanfic, so I'm leaving you with this offering of strange ramblings that maybe, just maybe, one day I'll complete.

In the beautiful world of Twisted Wonderland, only a tiny percentage of the population is capable of magic. The number is so small that half the time, if someone tells you they're a magician, it's very likely they're a con artist or some weirdo who watched one of those online tutorials that use cheap clickbait, the kind that say, "How to become an ultra-mega-powerful magician in 10 easy steps!" or "What the big magic corporations don't want you to know."

Like in cults, when some crazy person with a God complex claims to be able to see the future, cure diseases with just their mind, and promise eternal happiness at the end of the road with a simple payment of all your material possessions and your individuality.

It's so rare that there are certain cities or towns where you only see a magician every 10 or 20 years, and they usually leave to live an amazing or luxurious life, although they don't really achieve it. I mean, have you seen the job postings lately? They're terrible and very poorly paid, but that's a topic for another day. The rest of the population has to settle for their monotonous, repetitive, and mostly boring lives.

Especially young students, because there really isn't much to do when your life revolves around going to school, homework, exams, and the occasional gossip about some kid from another class or a teacher and their divorce or whatever happens to the adults who have accepted that life is a drag.

And you, dear reader… You're just as normal and boring as the rest of the majority of the population.

Yes, you live in a world where magic exists, but it's not like you can use it.

In your hometown, magicians are so rare you might think they're extinct. The last one you met was a 60-year-old man who didn't even do anything exciting; he was a car salesman who used his magical abilities to make windshield wipers wear out less quickly or to change the paint color cheaply.

Your dad paid him a pretty penny to make his car bird-poop-proof. It was certainly a great investment because they've saved a fortune on cleaning, and you can see the envy on your neighbors' faces from time to time.

But back to the point. You're boring, ordinary, and as basic as a video game NPC with a repetitive, clichéd plot. You haven't had any exciting adventures unless you count the time your neighbor's chihuahua decided you were its mortal enemy and chased you all over the block when you were a kid.

So it's understandable to say you're shocked, and scared to death, when you suddenly wake up in a coffin, wearing black robes and seeing a man in a bird mask talking to a mirror. A LIVING MIRROR.

Between the shock, confusion, and fear of having been kidnapped to join a strange cult, you don't realize that you're now standing in front of said mirror.

It looks at you, and unlike what it did with the other young people there, it remains silent for a long time after you reluctantly tell it your full name. Its pause is so long that the birdman himself starts asking if it's broken.

After what seems like an awkward eternity, it tells you something you already know very well. You don't have a single trace of magic in your body or soul.

There are confused whispers, jeers, and what sounds like pity in the voices of everyone present in the strange room that you're still swearing is part of some initiation rite from a horror movie.

After the public humiliation you just endured, and the rest of the students you now discover are escorted to their respective dormitories, you're taken to the headmaster's office so you can call home and explain why you vanished into thin air. But you're in for a surprise.

Apparently, your mother, in her blissful innocence cough stupidity cough, stumbled across a strange online form about how to ensure her son or daughter's future success, and without a second thought, she enrolled you in what she swears was some kind of after-school program to improve your academic and social skills.

It's apparently a real course that Dire Crowley, the birdman and headmaster of NRC, offered to help the younger generation, not to mention it's easy money for him. But somehow, his paperwork got mixed up, and you ended up officially enrolled as an NRC student.

This is a mistake that could easily be fixed if Crowley admitted his error, completed the necessary paperwork, issued your mother a refund, and allowed you to use the mirror to get home.But the words “Responsibility” and “Crowley” don’t mix; they’re like oil and water.

So now, you're enrolled for a full year at NRC as the only damn non-magical student (and the only woman, if that's you, my dear potential reader). Everyone there is hideous, in every sense of the word except physically.

It's as if the Big Seven decided to allocate all the worst attributes a living being can have to a single jar, except for ugliness. Because, damn, they're all ridiculously good-looking. Even the ugliest of your classmates are good-looking!

And you have the misfortune of being someone who falls in love ridiculously fast. Someone says something nice to you once, and you're already hearing wedding bells and sending out imaginary invitations for what, in your delusional mind, will be your wonderful married life.

The good thing about you and your simple, boring, and monotonous self is that you've NEVER done anything about your crushes. They stay in your head. You write in your diary how much you love them, how beautiful they are, how much you like how well (badly, terribly, you could almost say horribly) they treat you, and that's where your feelings stay.

You've always done that. You buy a cheap notebook, fill it with love letters you'll never send to your crush, and once you've filled it or feel like you've gotten everything off your chest, you burn it.

It's simple, effective, and nobody has to go through any kind of embarrassing confession of love. You don't have to think about the possible public humiliation you'd receive once you get rejected, and your crush saves themselves from looking like a heartless idiot when you start crying over your very obvious heartbreak.

Everything's going well, everything's relatively calm, you've made friends with a group of freshmen who shouldn't be left without any adult supervision, and you're starting to think that maybe this whole experience isn't as bad as you initially thought.

When you realize your love diary is NOWHERE TO BE FOUND. You've searched high and low. You even got your friends looking, and nobody's seen it! Not even Ortho!

It takes you a good 15 minutes and a ridiculous number of deep breaths to relax a little. Okay, don't panic. The school is ridiculously big, and maybe someone found it, read it, laughed at your stupid poems, and threw it away.

I mean, you can't be so unlucky that your crush found it, read it cover to cover, and specifically recognized your handwriting, right?… RIGHT?

Español Bajo el corte

Esto es una idea tonta que tengo en la cabeza desde hace un par de días y no tengo la fuerza física ni mental en estos momentos para hacerla un fanfic completo, así que les dejo esta ofrenda de palabrería extraña que tal vez, solo tal vez, algún día pueda ser completada.

En el bello mundo de Twisted Wonderland, solo un pequeño porcentaje de la población es capaz de hacer magia. El número es tan pequeño que la mitad del tiempo si alguien te dice que es un mago es muy probable que sea un estafador o algún tipo raro que vio un tutorial en línea del tipo que usa clickbait barato, los que dicen “¡Como ser un mago ultra mega poderoso en 10 sencillos pasos!” o “Lo que las grandes corporaciones de magia no quieren que sepas”.

Como en los cultos, cuando algún loco con complejo de Dios dice poder ver el futuro, curar enfermedades solo con la mente y prometer la felicidad eterna al final del camino con un simple pago de todos tus bienes materiales y tu individualidad como persona.

Es tan rara que hay ciertas ciudades o pueblos en los que solo llegas a ver un mago cada 10 o 20 años, y estos suelen irse para tener una vida asombrosa o de lujo,aunque no es que realmente lo logran digo ¿Has visto las propuestas laborales últimamente? son terribles y muy mal pagadas pero ese es tema para otro día. El resto de la población debe conformarse con sus vidas monótonas, repetitivas y mayormente aburridas.

Sobre todo los jóvenes estudiantes, porque realmente no hay mucho que hacer cuando tu vida se basa en ir a la escuela, tareas, exámenes y el ocasional chisme de algún chico/chica de otro salón o de algún maestro y su divorsio o lo que sea que le pase a los adultos que han aceptado que la vida es una mierda.

Y tú querido lector…

Eres tan normal y aburrido como el resto de la población mayoritaria.

Si, vives en un mundo donde la magia existe, pero no es como si tu pudieras usarla.

En tu pueblo natal es tan raro ver a los magos que casi podrías creer que están extintos. El último que conociste fue un señor de 60 años que ni siquiera se dedicó a algo emocionante, era un vendedor de carros el cual utilizaba sus habilidades mágicas para hacer que los limpiaparabrisas se gastaran menos rápido o para cambiar el color de la pintura a bajo precio.

Tu papá le pagó un buen precio para hacer que su carro fuera impermeable a la caca de pájaro. Ciertamente fue una gran inversión porque se han ahorrado una fortuna en limpiezas y puedes ver la envidia en la cara de tus vecinos de vez en cuando.

Pero regresando al punto. Eres aburrido, normal y tan básico como un NPC de videojuego con trama repetitiva y cliché. No has tenido ninguna aventura emocionante a menos que cuentes la vez que el chihuahua de tu vecina decidió que te convertirías en su enemigo mortal y te persiguió por toda la cuadra cuando eras un niño.

Entonces es entendible decir que estás sorprendido, y asustado a morir, cuando de la nada despiertas en un ataúd, vistiendo unas túnicas negras y viendo a un hombre con máscara de pájaro hablar con un espejo. UN ESPEJO VIVIENTE.

Entre el shock, confusión y miedo de haber sido secuestrado para unirte a un culto extraño no te das cuenta que de la nada ahora estás frente a dicho espejo.

Este te mira y a diferencia de lo que hizo con los demás jóvenes ahí, se queda en silencio por mucho tiempo después de que le hayas dicho, a regañadiente, tu nombre completo. Es tan larga su pausa que el propio hombre pájaro empieza a preguntar si está roto.

Después de lo que parece una eternidad incomoda te dice algo que ya sabes muy bien. No tienes ni una sola pizca de magia en tu cuerpo o alma.

Hay susurros confusos, burlas y lo que parece ser lastima en la voz de todos los presentes en la extraña habitación que tu sigues jurando en algún rito de iniciación de película de terror.

Después de la humillación pública que acabas de recibir y el resto de lo que ahora descubres son alumnos son llevados a sus respectivos dormitorios, te llevan a la oficina del director para que puedas llamar a casa para explicar el porque desapareciste de la nada, pero te llevas una sorpresa.

Al parecer tu madre, en su santa inocencia *coff*estupidez*coff*, encontró un extraño formulario en línea sobre cómo hacer que su hijo o hija tuviera un futuro exitoso y sin pensarlo dos veces te inscribe en lo que ella jura que era un tipo de escuela extracurricular para mejorar tus habilidades académicas y sociales.

Aparentemente es un curso real que Dire Crowley, el hombre pájaro y director de NRC, ofrecía para poder ayudar a las nuevas y jóvenes generaciones, por no decir que es dinero fácil para su bolsillo. Pero de alguna manera su papeleo se mezcló y terminaste matriculado como un alumno oficial de NRC.

Esto es un error que fácilmente se podría arreglar si Crowley admitiera que cometió un error, hiciera el papeleo correspondiente, le hiciera un reembolso a tu mama y te dejara usar el espejo para ir a casa. Pero las palabras “Responsabilidad” y “Crowley” no se mezclan, son como el agua y el aceite.

Así que ahora, estás inscrito por un año completo en NRC como el único maldito alumno sin magia (y la única mujer si así lo eres mi querida posible lectora). Todos ahí son horribles, en todo el sentido de la palabra menos el físico.

Es como si los Siete grandes hubieran decidido juntos en un solo frasco todos los peores atributos que pueden tener los seres vivos menos la fealdad. Porque DEMONIOS que son estúpidamente guapos. ¡Hasta los más feos de tus compañeros son guapos!

Y tú tienes la mala suerte de ser alguien que se enamora estúpidamente rápido. Alguien te habla bonito una vez y ya estas escuchando campanas de boda a tu alrededor y haciendo invitaciones imaginarias para lo que, en tu delirante cabeza, será tu gran vida de casado.

Lo bueno de ti y tu simple, aburrido y monótono ser es que JAMAS has hecho nada respecto a tus crush, se quedan en tu cabeza, escribes en tu diario lo mucho los amas, lo bellos que son, lo mucho que te gusta lo bien (mal, terrible, casi se puede decir horrendo) que te tratan y ahí se quedan tus sentimientos.

Siempre has hecho eso. Compras un cuaderno barato, lo llenas de cartas de amor que jamás enviaras a tu enamorado y una vez que lo llenas o sientes que has sacado todo de tu pecho, lo quemas.

Es simple, efectivo y nadie tiene que pasar por ningún tipo de vergonzosa confesión de amor, tu porque no tienes que pensar en la posible humillación pública que recibirías una vez que te rechacen y tu crush se ahorra el verse como un imbécil sin corazón cuando empieces a llorar por tu muy obvia decepción amorosa.

Todo va bien, todo es relativa tranquilidad, te has hecho amigo de un grupo de primer año el cual no debería de ser dejado sin ningún tipo de supervisión adulta, empiezas a creer que tal vez toda esta experiencia no sea tan mala como lo creías en un inicio.

Cuando notas que tu diario del amor NO ESTA POR NINGUN LADO.

Ya lo buscaste por mar y tierra. Demonios pusiste a tus amigos a buscar y nadie lo ha visto ¡Ni siquiera Ortho!

Te toma unos buenos 15 minutos y una ridícula cantidad de respiraciones profundas relajarte un poco. Esta bien no debes de entrar en pánico, la escuela es ridículamente grande y puede que alguien lo haya encontrado, lo haya leído, se riera de tus estúpidos poemas y lo tirara a la basura.

Digo, no puedes tener tan mala suerte como para que tu enamoramiento lo haya encontrado, lo haya leído por completo y haya reconocido específicamente tu letra ¿Verdad?... ¿VERDAD?

[solxamber]

Hi everyone!!

I never thought I'd actually finish this project anytime soon, so I kept it mostly under wraps for a long, long time.

And I cannot believe I'm finally able to say this but!!

My very own interactive fanfic!!

The characters in the game right now are: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus, Lilia and Floyd.

The reader is gender neutral.

Each character has 12 obtainable endings — 6 romantic and 6 platonic endings! (A total of 108 Endings!)

You get to choose if you want a romantic or platonic end!

5+ scenes for each character with some having hidden triggers to get to them!

Each route is about 12k-17k words. (A total of 144,155 words!!)

The endings depend on the choices you make!

A very few of my mutuals and friends knew what I was upto, and I'm extremely thankful for their presence!!!

Especially @charredcipher who helped me test everything thoroughly. I genuinely owe them my life, and he's the reason I was able to fix and polish this so quickly!!

Anyways!! I hope you guys enjoy it <3

[darkacua]

Oh my goodness, this is beautiful! I'm laughing so hard on the Vil route. God help me, and may being myself not backfire.

[darkacua]

A belated drawing of Vil for his birthday. I took way too much creative freedom with his hair, because I worked so hard on his eyes and I didn't want his damn bangs to cover them. Imagine it started raining or something to justify him being wet because I have no logical reason for it.

[darkacua]

A drawing of Leona because I feel like we as a fandom moved too fast on how good the damn guy looks with his hair up. I'm still crying about not getting his card for Halloween.

[darkacua]

Here's a little drawing of Ortho that was collecting dust on my work computer for about 6 months. I made it in CorelDraw with a mouse and a dream because whenever I take my tablet on "dead" days (as I call them), I summon clients to ask for a thousand urgent jobs.

[thoselethalarts]

TWST - Dorm Analysis: Morals and Values

What gets a person sorted into one dorm or another? What dorm might you end up in if you were to attend the illustrious Night Raven College? Well look no further than here for the answers to your struggles and questions!

Truth be told I saw somebody try and do this once, but their analysis felt rather biased and left me unsatisfied, so here’s a little something I like to call: “Soul’s Deep-Dive Analysis into the Morals and Values of the Seven Dorms of Night Raven College”!

Seguir leyendo

[darkacua]

Silver the boy who bites

Do you think Silver was one of those kids who would bite other kids if left alone for five seconds? Because I do. I mean, he was raised by Lilia, and I'm sure that at some point he taught him that in a life-or-death situation, anything goes as long as you get out alive.

Whether Silver actually applied that lesson is another story.

I can totally picture him around eight or nine years old, arguing about some nonsense with Sebek, when he suddenly stops talking and decides to bite the green-haired kid on the arm. Lilia doesn't know whether to be proud or stressed because his youngest son just used the grandson of his old war buddy as a biting tool.

I imagine the scene going something like this:

"Silver, you can't just bite people for no reason!"

“But you said I should…”

“Yes, but only in EXTREME situations.”

“…Sebek is extremely annoying.”

No one knows whether to laugh or cry because he said that with a completely serious face. Sebek cries for a while after that, but the next day the kids go back to talking and playing as if nothing had happened, so everyone involved lets it go and forgets about it.

…Until he enters NRC, the overblot disaster happens, and amidst conversations and laughter, they discover that he still bites his classmates. To be more specific, he bites Malleus every time they have a stupid sibling argument.

Malleus doesn't mind because he always bites back.

Español bajo el corte

¿Ustedes creen que Silver era uno de esos niños que mordían a otros niños cuando lo dejaban solo por 5 segundos? Porque yo si, digo fue criado por Lilia, y estoy segura de que en algún momento le enseñó que en una situación de vida o muerte todo es aceptable con tal de salir vivo de dicha situación.

Ahora que Silver lo haya aplicado correctamente es otra historia.

Puedo imaginarmelo totalmente teniendo unos 8 o 9 años y estar discutiendo sobre alguna tontería con Sebek cuando simplemente deja de hablar y decide pegarle un mordisco en el brazo al niño de pelo verde. Lilia no sabe si estar orgulloso o estresado porque su hijo más chico acaba de usar como un mordedor al nieto de su antiguo compañero de guerra.

Me imagino la escena algo así.

“¡Silver, no puedes morder a la gente nomas porque si!”

“Pero tu dijiste que lo hiciera…”

“Si, pero en situaciones EXTREMAS”

“...Sebek es extremadamente latoso”

Nadie sabe si reír o llorar porque dijo eso con una cara de completa seriedad. Sebek llora un rato después de eso, pero al día siguiente los niños vuelven a hablar y jugar como si nada hubiera pasado así que todos los involucrados lo dejan pasar y lo olvidan.

… Hasta que entra en NRC, pasa el desastre de los overblots y entre platicas y risas descubren que aún muerde a sus compañeros, para ser más específicos muerde a Malleus cada vez que tienen una discusión estúpida de hermanos.

A este no le importa porque él siempre regresa el mordisco.

[darkacua]

A tyrant and his flamingos about to lose their heads…

Tumblr ruined the quality, open to see it better.

[darkacua]

This is a little sketch of a silly idea about an alternate universe where Pure Vanilla Cookie enters the world of TWST as the prefect.

I like to think about the interactions he'd have with the whole first-year group and the other characters, so here are a few.

Grim HATES PV's staff. He's terrified that it's a flower with a giant eye and will swear on his life that it's evil. This just makes PV a little sad; no one has ever told him that his faithful friend is strange or scary, so he doesn't know why Grim seems so afraid of him.

EVERYONE thinks his staff is weird, but no one is going to admit out loud that they're scared of a giant sunflower. Especially if said staff belongs to a blind man.

PV has a love/hate relationship with tea parties in Heartslabyul. On one hand, he loves sweets, on the other, he simply can't help but tremble when he sees someone eating a cookie.

Nobody believes he's capable of defending himself until some idiot pushes him to the limit and ends up beating him up. Who? I don't know yet, but I know it takes Professor Vargas to separate him from that fool. (I just saw the spoiler that he viciously ran over SMC, so…)

He won't exactly apologize to the person, but he tries to make peace once his anger subsides (whether it works or not depends a lot on the person he fought with).

It's not until a couple of months after his appearance at NRC that Ace realizes he can grow a beard. The entire first-year group convinces him to let it grow a little since it makes him look tougher. PV is just happy that his new friends want to help him blend in better with his new surroundings.

That's all I have for now. Maybe I'll write more about this AU in the future.

Español bajo el corte

Este es un pequeño dibujo de una idea tonta sobre un universo alterno en el que Galleta de Vainilla Pura entra al mundo de TWST como el prefecto.

Me gusta pensar en las interacciones que tendría con todo el grupo de primer año y los demás personajes, así que aquí les dejo unos cuantos.

Grim ODIA el bastón de PV. Le da terror que sea una flor con un ojo gigante y dirá ante juramento que es malvado. Esto solo pone algo triste a PV, nunca antes le han dicho que su fiel amigo es extraño o aterrador así que no sabe el porque Grim parece tenerle tanto miedo.

TODOS creen que su bastón es raro, pero nadie va a admitir en voz alta que les da miedo un girasol gigante. Sobre todo si dicho bastón es de un hombre ciego.

PV tiene un amor/odio a las fiestas de té en Heartslabyul. Por un lado ama los dulces, por otro simplemente no puede evitar temblar cuando ve a alguien comerse una galleta.

Nadie lo cree capas de defender asi mismo hasta que algun idiota lo lleva al limite y termina dandole una paliza, ¿a quien? aun no se, pero se que se necesita al profesor Vargas para separarlo de aquel tonto. (acabo de ver el spoiler de que vilmente atropello a SMC así que…)

No se disculpara exactamente con la persona pero intenta hacer las paces una vez que la ira se calme (si funciona o no depende mucho de la persona con la que se peleo).

No es hasta un par de meses después de su aparición en NRC que Ace se da cuenta de que le puede crecer barba, todo el grupo de primer año lo convence de que la deje crecer un poco ya que lo hace ver más rudo. PV solo está feliz de que sus nuevos amigos quieran ayudarlo a mezclarse mejor con su nuevo entorno.

Eso es todo lo que tengo por ahora, tal vez en el futuro escriba mas de este AU.

[anbaisai]

spent the last few days making a twst login tracker for fun and thought i'd share! feel free to use it as long as you credit me! (stickers are for tracker use only, please do not use them anywhere else)

Download here: [Link]

Update 2025.12.01: Items added! Now you can track what they brought & put a hat on the birthday boy if it's their month too (inspired by one of my followers who doodled items on their tracker)

[anbaisai]

Updated with items added to the drive! Have fun!

He's super late to his own birthday but at least he brought me cupcakes 🎉🧁

[kaltain-1]

IF I DONT GET DAWN ARMOR SILVER THEN I WILL JUMP OFF A FREAKING CLIFF

[darkacua]

How I love these two rare, animal-loving people with light hair and striking eyes.