Dumpling | Kris | 22 | writer She likes cats, dumplings (surpirse!) and has a love affair with her hair. Has a problem with saying "fuck" and all of its glorious variations too much. Her writing includes gory horror, slow and antagonizing romance, and melodramatic action type fantasy. She is currently working on two novels called Cairo and Burbin Street. One day she'd like to publish them and live her dream as a published author! WARNING: As an author who does write gore and touches on mature topics that could potentially trigger an audience, I DO HAVE A MATURE WRITING TAG. If at some point, there is something I write that is not covered and might trigger or has triggered someone, PLEASE SEND ME A MESSAGE and a new tag will be put in place.
Chapter 19 is in the process of being edited and posted for viewing. Currently starting to write the beginning of chapter 24.
With that, the first book of Cairo should be done, hopefully, within the next two chapters!
Cairo will be concluding with the basia arc wrapped up and quick trip back to Cairo’s home, where we will lean a bit about his backstory and a surprise encounter with someone who knows something about Aerie.
It’s not 100% finalized yet, as I might save that last part for the second book depending on how it all fits together, but either way, book one of Cairo will be wrapping up son.
A big thank you to everyone who’s reading or has read the story!
“So something did happen,” Cane all but shouted. He regretted it right after, his stomach gurgling at the pressure “Cairo was right all along.”
A singular, curt nod. “He seems to have a radar for… tragedy.”
Cane’s eyes snapped to Aidan’s. They hold no emotion as they gazed at the body at his feet. Like glass, they shone in the light. Sparkled. They reflected nothing but what was in front of Aidan back. There were no answers.
“What was that supposed to mean? Tragedy? What kind of tragedy? Why tragedy?”
“There is only one type of tragedy. It always ends in a great loss.”
“Of course, a tragedy never gives.”
A dark laugh came out of Aidan. It seemed caught in his throat, forced out and dry. “Oh, it gives. It gives scars that never fade and pain that won't heal. It gives nightmares and trauma. It takes away who people once were and gives them a hollowed out shell of a monster back. That is tragedy—the one that never ends.”
It was like Aidan wasn’t speaking of this. Cane could only assume by the way his eyes glazed over that he was speaking of something completely different. Some other incident that he had seen that seemed to remind him of this.
“I don’t know.” The concept sent shivers down Cane’s spine. He believed in healing, although the process might be long and painful, he believed scars could be healed. But there was one thing that bothered him. “Who would be the monster in this case?”
Aidan smiled. For once it wasn’t a proper smile that didn’t reach his eyes. This one reached his eyes, the darkest part of them that brought something hideous out. “Perhaps you are.”
A project that’s going to be tentatively called (and tagged) “Hell Bound” until I can come up with a creative name for this series and the hotel /o”/ . It was called Cirque de Horreur before, not because it fit the story at all but just because I simply liked the name.
It’s actually a story I made back when I was really into drawing. I lost interest and motivation on the drawing part, but I’ve always loved these characters, and wanted to breath a bit of life back into them.
It’s a story about demons, death, and the hotel that connects everything. Both humans and demons alike aren’t safe once they reach this place.
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A human or a demon...
Oliver snickers as he spins his feathered quill in his hand. He smirks, resting the side of his face against his fingers, as the front door cracks open.
None of you are safe here.
The book on the counter glows and opens. Blotches of ink were appearing on the page in the finely written cursive print of a name. Oliver taps the book with his quill and lets out a smile full of razor sharp teeth. His eyes slit into a glowing yellow behind the cover of his bangs.
“Welcome, dear customer. We’ve already received your appointment in advance. Thank you for your patronage.”
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Check below for the preview of the first chapter :D
The hotel looked deserted. With every small gust of wind, the willow tree let out a loud creak, shaking back and forth. The antique design of the hotel stood out against the unmaintained landscape around it. Ivy crept along the walls of the building and the greenery grew without shape.
Amelia stood outside of the hotel. One hand holding her suitcase, the other gripping onto her phone that was telling her she’d reached her destination. But such a run down place in the middle of nowhere.... how could it be her destination?
Another gust of wind blew against her, and Amelia found herself walking forward. Like it was calling her, welcoming her for finding this place.
The reception was quiet. A singular, old desk with a closed off both that looked like it’d been used well past its prime. Not a single soul. Not a single noise. The smell of an older time of something crisp and stagnate rested in the air. It burned like she was drowning but never felt like she was breathing at all.
Uncomfortable would be the word Amelia would use. Like she was stuck in a world of her own. As if in a period of time where time had froze, and she was a the lone singularity. She pulled her suitcase closer, and following the straight, red carpet, she walked into one of the hallways leading to one of the side wings of the hotel.
It’s not what I was expecting...
A few plants littered the hallways for decoration, looking half dead they wilted in green flourish towards the ground. Every few feet, there were pillars sticking out of the wall with intricate and handcrafted designs that seemed to tell the story of a grand battle with each passing groove.
The red carpet went straight down and around the corner, but Amelia stopped at a small table. There was a very old fashioned doll sitting on a stand. A bonnet and cane with a few sheep decorations around the stand. The hair was curly and had a very odd shine to it in the dimming light. Amelia squinted. She went to take a look, but was stopped at the eyes. They drug her into their depths as if they were real and would blink any second. She was absorbed.
A sudden hand grabbed her shoulder, and Amelia gasped. She spun around. Her hand reached out for her suitcase, but it wasn’t there, and she stumbled forward without the support. The owner of the hand was a man. He stepped forward, gently catching her in his arms He was very tall, and like cradling a baby, was easy able to place Amelia back on her feet. She glanced up. A man in a pure black suit and a sly smile.
“Who... who are you?”
“You don’t remember?” He chuckled. “I’m the manager of this establishment, Oliver.”
Olive had ashen grey hair that covered both corners of his eyes, the front part of his hair stuck out as a dark black. His amber eyes that almost looked a shade of yellow glowed against the dark colors of his bangs. But he held a gentle smile as he reached out his hand.
“I was looking all over for you, Ms Amelia. You’d gotten lost right after registration. I don’t recommend wandering off here; it’s easy to get lost. So, if you’d follow me, I’ll check your room agian and give you the key.”
My... room? Amelia thought as she glanced back at the hallway Her head pounded as she tried to think, but everything was hazy and her thoughts thoughts were barely making any sense.
Oliver led her over to the desk she first saw when she walked in. An image of Oliver smiling on the other side of it flashed in her mind, and Amelia blinked, the pounding in her head getting worse. She squinted, looking at the book that had once been closed now be open. Glancing over, she saw that her name was, in fact, written in there with her room detailed. And yet..
An image of a lonely desk flashed in front of her.
“This might sound weird, but did I really get a room?”
At the sudden question, Oliver turned around from the key rack. He blinked at her once, and from the calm expression on his face, it seemed like he wasn’t all that surprised to hear. His eyebrows creased like the folds around his lips. But it was a second too late.
“Well, yes,” Olive said in an even and calming voice. “You called there days ago and requested a room here for a week.”
“A week? But...”
Amelia glanced behind her. The window etching left an orange light and made it hard to look beyond it to the outside. She squinted, remembering the desolate and forested landscape around the hotel, sheltering it like a secret. What would she even do here for a week?
Like he was reading her mind, Oliver placed the key in her hand and chuckled. “There’s certainly not much to do around here, but that’s why most people come to a hotel in the middle of nowhere. It gives you time to just relax. Perhaps that’s what you had in mind when you called. Your complexion is looking a little rough, after all. Now, please enjoy your stay and let yourself unwind.”
It’s coming soon! The chapter is being proofread and edited and will be up within a few days.
Current progress is beginning to write chapter 22. Chapters 19-21 will be slowly updated, but they’re coming :D Sorry for the massively slow updates it’s been a real struggle irl.
As Nix finished, Fifi tapped her chin and jumped down from the table. "So that leaves the doctor then."
"His study isn't too far from here. You saw the coordinates on the map I sent you, right?"
Before Nix could say more, Fifi placed a hand on her shoulder. Her body stiffened under Fifi's grip, and she slid her eyes over to meet the woman's. Fifi placed a finger on her lips, bending her body slightly forward. She shushed Nix.
"There's still one left."
In a whole, the statement confused Nix. The simple answer of "there shouldn't be" lingered about, but was there a way to make certain? Nix had been precise, careful; she counted, added the jumbled up numbers all in her head. There wasn't one left. There couldn't be. Of that, she was positive. She said it.
That answer amused Fifi to no end. A bark of laughter rumbled out of her. Her gnarled lips slid up as her eyes fell back to Nix. "Smart one," she whispered.
Hello fronds o/ It’s been quite a long time. I was struggling on chapter 21 for a very long time, and since I recently finally managed to get passed it and finish I’m publishing more chapters in celebration!
This is completely new content here that wasn’t explored in the OG novel. Also GORE WARNING. You’ve been warned. Happy readings.
She’s straight to the point and honest. Lyla has seen through him, and she makes no qualms about pointing it out. Tommy blinks as he feels his chest beating with each thump of his heart. There’s no exact estimate of people who see through Tommy’s motives and don’t say anything, so Tommy struggles to understand if Lyla doesn’t know what feigning innocence is or she simply doesn’t care.
“For the record, this is our house,” she says and stomps her food. “And in case you forgot, you were supposed to come over for breakfast.”
Caught between a lie and the truth, Tommy presses his lips together. He adverts his eyes. His body is still turned towards Lyla. Tommy will look away all he wants, but he will not turn away from her. He refuses to be the one to do it.
Seeing his reaction, Lyla narrows her eyes. She steps out form the doorway, straight to the edge of the porch. Right to the tips of the stairs, so that if she wanted to, she could walk down them. She doesn’t. Lyla stands still right at the brink of the edge. Her eyes cascade down to where Tommy is, and she lets out a heavy breath.
“But you already knew that. You just weren’t going to come.”
Tommy flinches, snapping his eyes up to meet hers. Lyla’s staring right at him. The intensity of it all makes him take a step back. “You’re just trying to make me feel bad.”
“If the truth makes you feel bad, that’s your problem.”
The girl in front of Tommy doesn’t hide anything, doesn’t bite her words or hold her punches. It’s an honesty that Tommy is unfamiliar with. Even his honesty is fragile and sugarcoated at best.
Thinking of it like that, Tommy remembers leaving his house. That disgusting, crawling feeling. It bores into him. He has urge to step back, run away. But Tommy digs his soles into the the flat pavement. He will not.
“I don’t have anything to feel bad about. It’s my choice if I want to or not.”
“You promised you’d come. People who break their promises are bad people, and I don’t talk to bad people. Especially the ones that hurt my mom’s feelings.”
Lyla turns around. She’s done with the conversation. Said her pieces and heard the retorts. Tommy lowers his head back down to the road. Tingles are stabbing his chest. It hurts and Tommy wants to hit something. He lets out a shaky breath instead.
‘Don’t be selfish.’ How many times has Tommy heard his mother say that? He knows better. Just this once, he had thought, and look where it got him. Still, the bitter feeling is hardly from that. Lyla was the one to walk away from him. He had said he wouldn’t and he didn’t. However, just like always, it hurts to see someone’s back.
I had never known what to expect when I met my mate, but I suppose it wasn’t a little wolf sitting on the porch of a drunken human male’s house.
I maaay have dabbled a little bit in another werewolf story
Premise is a young werewolf has to inherit the title of alpha after his parents passed away in an accident. He was never taught how to handle the responsibilities it entitled, though, and is falling apart almost as bad as his pack is. His mate lives with the humans without knowing she’s a werewolf, but was convinced that her life was useless and pretty much gave up hope to live.
So it’s basically how they help put themselves back together and learn how to fight for the important things in life.
Round two of dungeon and dragon inspired high fantasy story (I’ll never finish)!! This time the story follows the tale of a half aarakocra-half human wizard who seeks to remove the curse on him.
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Ballah Chandra walks in the light of the moon. Though none can say they know his appearance beneath his feathery cloak and mask or any specific details about his story, there are many tales about the the “Shadow of the Moon.” At one point everyone has heard his tale tale through whispered stories and broken songs. They say he is a man who transcends time for his tale is a very long and very old one at that. But, in fact, it is a simple legacy of ages passed from old to young. The young moon now walks carefully in the footsteps of his predecessor, humming a lullaby to the moon along his journey. A dark and heavy cloud quickly chases after the travelling adventurer, though, for people of the moon do not live long… “This,” Ballah whispers, “is a fact.”
--
A cold wind blows in from the south, making the night a bit chiller than most. In the darkness, the moon hovers solemnly above releasing only a faint glow of light onto the dimly lit streets of the small town. Candle wick lanterns flicker in the breeze, and for a moment, the streets go almost dark. The woman stops in her steps as the light diminishes from around her, her breath held tightly in her mouth. Clutching onto her wicker basket, she dares to take one step forward. She sees from the corner of her eye the dim glow of a light, and as she turns her head she blinks at the sight of of a glowing ball in the middle of a patch of darkness.
On an almost broken bench placed in the depth of the shadows, a young man dawned in a clock of pitch black feathers sits with a glowing crystal ball neatly placed in his lap. He shifts slightly as he feels the pair of eyes land on him, and the woman gasps, a step taken back, as he lifts his head to reveal a long-beaked mask. A featherthy design shoots outwards from the eyes and in the metal that neatly holds in the shimmering color of light, the woman is entranced in the intracuit design. The man smiles. It catches the woman’s attention, and a deep chuckle comes out of his parted lips, resonating through the silence. Bandages cover his arms and palm as he raises on hand. He taps the crystal ball on his lap with long metal talon claws. The smile is still on his face.
“Would you like your fortune read, child of the sun?”
x.x.x.x
x.x.x.x.
The little boy is barely covered, the rags he calls clothing torn and ripped so much there’s more skin than cloth. He shakes as he bathes in the rays of the sun, not feeling the heat at all. A dull pain throbs in his head and he curls into his body even more. He’s near the main street, a dangerous place for an orphan boy like him, but he’s so cold, like death with its icy hands is cradling him, wrapping a cold embrace throughout his body. Just as thoughts of death begin to plague him, a sudden chill sends a different kind of shiver throughout his body. The young boy jerks his head up. A figure of an old woman is stopped on the street. She’s facing forward, eyes somewhere off in the distance, hunched over her cane. Her skin is wrinkled, and as she turns her head, the boy can see that her eyes are pale--she’s blind, but it somehow feels as if she’s looking right at him. With a creak in her bones, the old woman raises a single finger and points to the boy. A cackling laugh comes out of her mouth, and the boy is surprised there’s not dust spraying out with how rough it sounds.
“You,” she says in a crackling voice similar to what he thinks death might sound like, “are moon blessed, child of the night.”
So, I don’t know if anyone would be interested, but I’m going to be opening commissions as soon as I figure out a good pricing. Since I doubt I’ll get much if any, it’s gonna stay open. I’ll have a link to my kofi account when I put up prices that you can swing by any time~
For anyone that doesn’t know, here are some examples of things I write (cut underneath for though not interested ^^):
(( streams will also be starting back up soon – gonna try for at least 1-2 times a week ))
Read Chapter 16 from the story Cairo (rewritten) by DumplingSoup (Kris) with 1 reads. death, secrets, rebellion. CHAPTE...
Only actions spoke, and only with actions would she retort.
This is the chapter Fifi comes in. Writing the rebels in general is pretty fun, but I think I have the most fun with Fifi. She’s the first rebel I actually introduced in the main story and the first one I designed. In the original draft, she was only introduced through voice, so this whole part is very new. I think I ended up toning down her insane levels, though, but there’s always more chances for that!
Read Chapter 14 from the story Cairo (rewritten) by DumplingSoup (Kris) with 1 reads. fantasy, fighting, bloodandgore...
"I like your singing."
"Most people find it creepy."
"Why?"
"Because it's not about what I've seen before."
This is one of those chapters I had things planned and realized that, sadly, it didn’t fit in the context. Nix’s kleptos is really cool, though. I’m still sad I never got to show off it’s full powers.
It’s a disgusting smell. Blood and screaming. There are soft cries and whimpers—joy and sorrow, and just some in betweens with nothing in them but a sound. A cold chill rests in the air, and Kate squeezes her arms closer to her chest, her enlarged belly hot against her arms. Her head bows down and a single tear lets out of her eyes. She can barely breathe, but she’s still walking forward. The pain could cripple her, but she’s still walking forward.
The single hospital room is bright, but the surroundings are not. The machines are off and make no sound—the only sound is coming from other rooms, other patents and their families—while the bed is already freshly made again, even though Kate knows there was a person there not too long ago. She can see Tim huddled in the back near a window. His frame is dark and it shakes just a bit.
Once again, tears come, causing a lump in Kate’s throat. She could nearly choke on it, but she blinks it back as she moves with silent steps. Tim does not hear her, and only notices when her hand is placed on his shoulder. He flinches, his shoulders spring up in defense as he swivels his head back.
Kate stands behind him. Her eyes are red and glistening—a perfect match to his. Her lips quiver and she nods.
“We’ll adopt her.”
There’s a moment of silence. Tim’s heart thumps against his chest. He glances down to the sleeping baby cradled in his chest. She’s so peaceful and has a piece of his shirt clutched in her small and pure hand. He smiles, brushing a finger across her forehead. It takes him a moment to find his voice, and he bites his bottom lip before letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“I thought there wasn’t a we?” His face scrunches up. A set of tears tickle down his face as he looks at Kate standing next to him. “You have every right to leave and forget about me. I hurt you. I was disloyal and unfaithful and—and I—”
More tears come from Kate as she slides her tongue across her lips. She isn’t looking at Tim or the baby he holds delicately in his hand, just away, somewhere. Her fingers drum against her belly where a small child is living for the meantime.
“We all have our rough spots. If we were born to be circles, we’d probably all end up hexagons by the time we died. The point is that both of us were at fault. We chose to fight about it instead of listening to each other. I couldn’t give you the peace of mind or security I promised when I married you, so you tried to find an easy solution. Unfortunately, there’s no such thing as an easy solution and such a thing as consequences. It worked out okay for us, but not for everyone in the picture. I don’t know her name, I don’t want to know her name; that’s for you to know. All I want you to know is that I forgive you, and that I’m going to love this child like our own child.”
Tim sobs. He lowers his head, touching his forehead with the sleeping angel and just cries. Kate comes up to him, placing a hand on his back. She rests her head on his shoulder. It’s still bobbing up and down from his crying, but Kate closes her eyes.
“You hurt me,” Kate says. “I hurt you. We’re both hurt and we both need time to heal. These children are going to be what’s going to heal us, Tim, because both of us cannot fix these wounds for each other.” Kate lifts her head off of Tim’s shoulder as his breaths become more stable. He watches silently as she places a hand on the baby’s cheek and it opens one eye to look at her. “What’s her name?”
“…Lyla.”
--Talking bit below the cut--
I have yet to decide if I’m going to include this in the story. I might summarize the whole events or I might do a few flashback chapters, so read at your own risk, but this is the jist of the story between Tim and Kate.
Kate married Tim when she turned 18. They had the wedding planned for a whole year before. Tim was 6 years older, and because of that, their marriage wasn’t looked nicely upon. It wasn’t stopped, but it wasn’t celebrated kindly either. When they married, Tim and Kate had to support each other, and one wanting to go to college and the other struggling with a job, they struggled to adapt the the new environment and situations that they’d never been in before. It caused them to start fighting a lot, and after a particularly bad argument, Tim had to go on a business trip out of country. He met a woman who made him question his marriage and his feelings towards Kate, and while on the trip, he had an affair with her which lead her to getting pregnant with Lyla. A little after, Kate becomes pregnant with Roland.
When Kate learns she’s pregnant and tells Tim, he’s ecstatic and thinks the marriage will work itself out again until the woman who he had an affair with finds him and is able to inform him that she was pregnant with his child. He confesses to Kate. She can’t take it anymore and the two separate from each other for awhile. Tim is able to come to her doctor’s appointments with Kate and hear about the baby, but nothing more until Kate can sort out her feelings.
Eventually, after months of them being partially separated, there is a call to Tim from a hospital. The woman who he had an affair with died during child birth, and the baby is left alone. Tim rushes to the hospital after leaving a panicked voicemail to Kate’s phone. It takes her awhile to hear the message, but when she does, she too rushes up to the hospital where she finally forgives Tim and they adopt Lyla.
The question marks indicate that I went through a chapter(s) and added things onto previous writing. Since it was little things all over the place, getting a word count was too much work. For reference the question marks are anywhere between 100-300 words we’ll say (though expect more closer to 100).
The good:
1) I got the draft for chapter 13 (part 3) finished and changed around the titles a bit.
2) Getting the draft done was really, really good for me because I was struggling just blindly juggling the chapter, so I was able to jump over that hurdle once I wrote it down and was able to actually SEE it.
3) My Burbn children heal my soul--I always go back to them when I need a pick me up
The bad:
1) Not much writing at all and the total progress in reality wasn’t that much.
2) Still that awkward gap of three or four days a week where I just don’t write and usually don’t think of it.
Writing Accomplishments:
1) After checking the draft, the third part of the chapter 11 rewrite will have enough words, so I was able to post the new chapter 12.
2) I also finished the draft for new chapter 13.
3) Got a future chapter of Burbin Street planned out. It was actually about where the old book left off and a place I had a bit of trouble with (basically that point where the story had to make a defined turn and I had no idea where I wanted to go with the story, but after planning it out and fleshing it out a bit more, I understand the termoils with my characters and how it affects things in the story. In other words, I played a really long game of connect the dots).
Part 2/3 of the chapter 11 rewrite! The third part is drafted and on the way soon~
I’m actually really glad I went back and decided to do this rewrite. I feel like it added a lot of things that were missing in the initial chapter (especially with the flashback/memory stuff which was hella hard to write btw) and showed a brand new perspective on not only Demitros and what he can do but Cairo and Aerie as well.
