I can't give you a bouquet, but I can give you a rose

Rules for Interacting

Customize your profile at least a little so I know you aren’t a bot. What one consume as fictional media is not indicative of someone’s morals. I do not condone actions of characters in my Yandere fics. The internet/fandom is a public space. Use the read more function I BEG OF YOU. If you have criticism: word it in a manner that’s productive, if you are mean about it I will block you. Do not put my art or writing into ai, if you do I will explode your spleen.

DNI: If you are against [insert any group/person]’s human rights. Also those spam/scam porn blogs, gen ai enthusiasts/users, and anti-political/“it’s not that deep” crew.

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Phawn's art☆ is for art, Phawn's rambles☆ is just when I feel like yapping, and Phawn's writings☆ is for my fanfic. The rest you can probably figure out. The tags aren't 100% consistent on every post, but I'm working on it. Here’s my twst profile.

Link to Writing Masterlist Link to Art Masterlist OCs: My persona, Yuuzu, Haydn, Lorelai, more to come?

Where Else Am I

Strawpage: here Ao3: here Artfight: here Bsky: here Pixiv: here Toyhouse: here

Check Out My Beloved Mutuals Here♡

“I wish I knew,” the thought loops over and over and over and over again. He can’t help but wonder how he didn’t sooner, it should have been obvious, right? How wasn’t he real, were his emotions not enough to count for anything? He avoided you, the log in screen, your pulls for what appeared to be pictures of different events that had happened at his school. Would you still come around? It seems the answer was yes, grabbing others like flesh puppets to have them take lessons. Funny how you came back, again and again. Never ending enthusiasm. At least that’s what he thought.

He’d feel your gaze less and less, did you still love him? Please, you can’t say you do. You were the only thing he could cling onto— maybe he was just as pathetic as he labeled you to be. Smiling in every ten pull that he could squeeze into. To be completely honest, the mechanisms of this digital prison were still new. He was still trying to figure out how to phase through one part to another, being there even if you didn’t wish him to be. Ramshackled would have pieces of him left everywhere in case you were able to see it. Snack wrappers, little keychains and other useless doodads, anything to prove his existence. Please, please, you were the only thing he had. “I want to be the only thing that you have,” it wasn’t a healthy thought to have. But fuck healthy, human psychology can’t apply to something that isn’t— to someone who isn’t. To someone who was never.

Taking himself apart and reconstructing to fit other apps’ code was a delicate process, but it should be worth it. To know you beyond just the fleeting warmth that graced him. Eventually he grasped it, photos, social medias, messages, studying ever books longing after it all. Music, other games, shows, everything was truly his to parse, for his turn to bury himself beneath your flesh. It was still lonely though, a mutual parasocial trauma bond doesn’t mean a friendship will blossom from its rotten corpse. A mutual unknowable obsession doesn’t make it any less unhealthy. Twinning surveillance wasn’t anything beyond strangers with intimate knowledge. Maybe someday someone far smarter than him would wake from their hollowed state. Maybe they, the smart ones, the competent ones, the ones that didn’t have their entire skill set hinge on illusions of people, would awaken. Finding some key to exiting this binary prison, perhaps even into your arms.

It’s a bad habit, hoping that one day the obsession could turn into anything but what it was.

To be blunt, Vil wasn’t your type. He was cold to those he deemed fledglings, abrasive in her care however well meaning, and so demanding of perfection that couldn’t exist. His smug smile, the way in which he’d frequently pose his hand like he was waving away common muck, how privileged he acted demanding everyone to a perfection out of touch for so many. It was aggravating. How could someone so easily flip a switch between a charming seductress queen with a vision to a demeaning degrading thorn. How could he claim to be the fairest one of all when he dismissed all the smiles that Neige was able to bring forth? How could he be the fairest when forced a rigid mold of elegance, rearranging flesh to fit shapes it wasn’t meant to be in. Crippling mobility for the sake of aesthetics, that couldn’t be normal. That couldn’t be healthy for anyone involved, especially him.

At first it appeared he didn’t notice you, you were just one of many over enthusiastic underclassmen he’d had to deal with, or at least that’s the impression that stained itself into your retinas. It didn’t bother you, you weren’t there to appease someone’s own sensibilities, you were just trying to be yourself, as corny as it sounded. Over time there were changes, as you hit your sophomore year and she hit her junior one there were changes. Perhaps your defiance had stood out as the nail to be hammered, perhaps your specific hue of vibrancy was too clashing. You noticed how now his gaze would harden ever so slightly when he captured Rook and you enjoying yourselves together. How he scrutinized every wrinkle, every crease, every cute stylistic choice you had made more so than even than the freshman he had begun to groom for Housewarden position next year. He observed further and further, as if trying to pry into your flesh and burrow there.

Once you heard him utter how you were “an idol’s worst nightmare for damage control,” but still he couldn’t help but linger around you. You. The first person to be called upon for any sorts of domestic labor: clothing repairs, dusting, vacuuming, cutlery polishing— it was ridiculous. A smile and an almost infantilizing head pat your only reward. You had attempted to ask once on why of all you people were chosen for such a role, he laughed. Clearly you were the most efficient out of all these spudlings, that was what was said at least. Whenever chores were knocked out he’d glow, praising your being to set an example for all those that would lag behind. Compliments would further be whispered into the shell of your ear, you couldn’t help remain confused. She was hot, then cold, then ever so warm again. Was it to try and pull something from you? He didn’t affect you, she couldn’t affect you. Weren’t you mesmerized by his presence? Why didn’t you adore him?

Most flocked to his feet as if he were a god, kneeling and slobbering just to catch a glimpse. Warm spotlights lighting her every feature; every dip and curved dome, but most important of all, highlighting what wasn’t there. He would praise the loyal follower on occasion, and bless those under his domain with the tools necessary to cultivate their own sense of beauty, that of course just so long as it wasn’t his. Not you. You would never be caught dead at his altar, stubbornly insistent in your faith in that damn boy, the rival he had spent his entire life in the shadow of. Why was that, was he losing his touch? No, that couldn’t be right, he still had the entire dorm underneath his own spell. If it wasn’t him, then it was you. You had to be the defunct thing here. The dorm known to strive for excellence couldn’t have any defects, now could we?

It was important to keep a close watchful eye on someone with your character, to make sure you didn’t create discordance within the regiments each student is perfecting. Ensuring that every potato under his care could eventually blossom into something as beautiful as he appears, nothing else.

On one particular night she couldn’t sleep, thoughts of you swirled like a horrid persistent fog. It was of no use, as much as he implemented every technique for sleep possible, it evaded evermore. If sleep was impossible, might as well do something productive, robes were adjusted briefly to be appropriate just in case anyone else was lurking and spotted him. One step, two steps, down the winding stone stairwell, his pen acting as enough light to safely descend. Laughter, light, at the bottom of the stairwell he found those things slipping through the crack of Pomefiore’s basement, how peculiar indeed. Opening it had only revealed a small group of his dorm mates all huddled around in a circle, that sickening baby blue color surrounding them. Neige, his mind registered the name coming from your lips, adoring in their praise. Only Rook’s piercing gaze noticed him standing at the door way, his own vice-dorm leader enraptured in this encounter. Heads turned snapping as she cleared her throat, looking of aghast horror filled all eyes except for Rook’s, and infuriatingly enough, yours. The gall, the audacity, questioning the group he discovered that the club meetings took place every second Sunday of the month, every second Sunday since your freshman orientation. A year and counting you had begun these secret meetings, a year and counting he had failed to notice. It made his blood run cold.

How dare you. How dare you massacre this precious dorm with that accursed naive boy’s name. The boy who had spent half as much time as him working on the craft, a fraction of the time preparing on the stage sidelines but yet got to bask in the warm glow of the spotlights up until the end. You loved a boy who wasn’t even aware of your existence, devoted yourself to an altar so already polished and taken care of, what more could you offer that shining statue? Couldn’t you see he was right here? That cracks were slowly forming at his finger tips threatening to fracture further? You truly were such an oblivious thing, such an ignorant thing. Ignorance needed punishment, but not any would suffice. An idea, a wicked idea. She let out a wicked laugh for a bit before having to catch himself, his ugliness wouldn’t be anymore exposed than it was already. How fitting that you would be part of the take down of the idol you so adored.

Your so called punishment wasn’t too bad, forcibly moving into a haunted decrepit mansion to assist Vil aside. The Prefect of Ramshackled that had supposedly come from another world was nice enough. They acted as the group’s manager for the VDC in totality, running trivial errands and mediating in group disputes— how you could relate. Nevertheless your sole purpose here was to tend to the beautiful queen who was so particular about nearly every detail. The brand of water, what towels were and weren’t allowed to touch his skin, the pressure and exact location of massages she required. Hair, makeup, clothes, all things you were required to help him with now. Shaken awake at the crack of every dawn to help him with his after-run-morning shower, drying his hair not too slowly but not harshly either, then braiding the silky strands into the small ponytail in the middle back of his head.

The cramped guest room Vil took, though it was the best out of the current available ones, was still full of various boxes by the vanity. It must’ve previously been covered head to toe in dust, the corners still had a thick layer of it while the rest of the box remained relatively clean. Rushed cleaning, was the Prefect of this dorm even expecting guests? Were they given decent time to prepare? A noise of the throat came from his majesty, whose hair you still had in hand at the moment, clearing your previous thoughts. Right, makeup. Inching closer to the blonde was the only way to properly apply the different shades of products, because of the lack of room mentioned previously. So close, close enough to where the warmth of his breath would land like feathers on your skin. Violet eyes would glow as brilliantly as the most well maintained gems, a smug smile on his lips every time you pulled away finished with his face, this time was no exception.

Sometimes when he was particularly preoccupied with running through something: every mistake in their choreography, neat notes looped with you were summoned to help with dressing. Truly an attendant to their master, thank the sevens it would only last a few more weeks. Buttoning down his grey NRC uniform undershirt, fixing the golden buttons through the holes in her purple vest, trying to avoid any more contact than necessary. Though occasionally your fingers would brush his skin, and you could feel his breath hitch ever so slightly, eyes intensifying in their glare. You reacted with the same detached professionalism you always had towards him. Why, why wouldn’t you let yourself love him?

Days had come and gone, turning into weeks, then a month. Wake up, morning run, getting properly ready for the day with your assistance, classes, homework, dorm affairs, practice, food, nightly routine— then falling asleep in the same cheap mattress knowing you were just a room away physically but light years apart emotionally. Knowing that that boy still had the world dazzled by him, knowing your heart was still preoccupied by your sycophantic love for him. How could you? After all that she did, for his fans, for her dorm, even for you the ever stubborn tumor— tuber that grew more and inside his brain. Didn’t you see that this was the best outcome for you? That you’d shine more brilliantly than you ever could have before underneath her wing instead of that sentient pile jar of honey’s? It was fine, it was fine. Practice harder, smile more charmingly, apply products so perfectly that it could hide every single fault within his own psyche, you’d love him now, right?

Finally, it was the day of the event they had long been building up to, the cultural fair, the Song and Dance Championship itself. Preparations were run, they had rehearsed over everything a million times by now, hoping to reach something truly beautiful, something absolutely beautiful. Better late than never, the Ramshackled Prefect and you had arrived, to the annoying pestering of some staff member with cracked lips and dehydrated skin. The cameraman had touched you— hand on your shoulder about to usher the both of you out when he stepped in.

“Excuse me but those spudlings are part of my production team. If you had half a brain you would’ve noticed their staff passes,” she glared at the man, arm snaking around your waist pulling you closer to his side, the cameraman’s hand now pulled out of reach. Fingers looped and twirled around the cheap polyester ribbon of the VDC pass around your neck, being held up delicately for inspection. Flicking his eyes between him, the prefect, and you there was an apologetic bow and reassurance uttered from the man’s crinkly lips. ‘Calm yourself’ he removed his hand from around you, and walked off to speak with the rest of the crew.

“Vi?” that voice, that agitating voice again. It was easy enough to converse with the boy, speaking words layered thick with double meanings and of passive aggressive tone. Finally, they were all called up, finally he could wipe that oblivious smile off of Neige's face.

Rehearse, perfection, smile, all thoughts that ran through his head as he stepped onto the stage, the stage that he belonged on. Five six seven eight, the music began, his voice cut as clear as a ray of piercing light coming from the clouds. Move after move he executed everything sharply, perfectly, beautifully. He caught you from the corner of his eye— You weren’t even paying attention, just laughing over some dumb joke that the Ramshackled Prefect had uttered. A twinkle in your eyes and smile painted your face, you looked happier than you had within the whole month than he had spent with you. The brief rehearsal had ended, various different workers for the TV station had crawled around him like maggots to flesh. Speaking her praise, clamoring questions, smile, that was all he could do as he answered each question with practiced grace, practiced confidence. Looking over the footage the dance was perfect, flawless— you. What were you doing over there by Neige, you smiled so brightly, he returned it in kind. ‘They know, they know I’m a horrible person and that’s why they won’t love me,’ the thought echoed in his mind. Buzzed around it returning again and again like the unwanted pest it was. Even as he checked his account, filled with all the praise in the world, it couldn’t be enough to fill that gaping maw. You had bid that boy farewell shortly before Neige and his crew called up to the stage. Of course Neige replied in sing-song tone, quickly bounding off as if his joy was limitless, was effortless.

The performance, it was sloppy by every metric, harmonies clashing against themselves in different sections, the arrangement itself so musically simple. But he had won. Neige had won and the competition hadn’t even officially started yet. Something so innocent yet calculated in its appeal, how could they win now? How could he prove his beauty, his craft, his excellence. Was he forever dammed to be in the shadows of someone who was once so far behind him? Someone who had lacked the upbringing he had, someone who had come from nothing yet so brilliantly shinned as if it was just destiny? He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe. He needed to leave, to go somewhere— anywhere where he wouldn’t be seen, where he could break down into pieces slowly by himself. Then he saw you. You were smiling again. Him, you, laughing. Blurred, colors melted into one another as hurried clicks of his heels echoed through the hallways. A door, not his own. A knock, it opened. You, him, in the same room, joking, merrily, happily, comfortably even. A question. A smile, the best one he could muster. “We didn't get much of a chance to talk before rehearsal. I was hoping we might chat a bit more now,” a glance. You sat there, confusion evident. You knew, how could you not have? He was alone, beside you, small talk was made. Hollowed praise thrown back and forth. Then, a question, “Say, Neige. Are you thirsty at all? I brought you some apple juice specifically for you,” stay out of this, please. Don’t interfere, but from your eyes he could gears slowly turning. “I've been quite taken with this brand recently.” An exchange, a thanks. A sip, just about to be taken before you, of course you, of course you did— she was stupid to think you wouldn’t have.

“Mind if I take a sip? I’m awfully parched as of now, I can grab you another one though!” Confusion, from that boy. you snatched the bottle. A yell, from different direction by familiar voice. Rook, of course it would be Rook. After a brief analysis of the situation it seemed Rook had quickly ushered off that boy in cautioned and final tone. A drip dripping sensation ran from the back of his throat. She had wanted to scream, but instead stood there petrified, you looked at him glare in your eyes. A head tilt backwards, you were going to drink it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to work out, not at all. Just when he was about to stretch out an arm, to try and prevent you, a person he was now realizing he adored, from drinking the culmination of his hideousness— SLAM. A flurry of white crashed into you and pushed his hand. Shouts, yelling, words, the word why hanging in the air drip drip dripping. Like a poison, like the glass that shattered onto the floor. The liquid hateful curse gushing out to bubbling puddle, before evaporating artificially into a purple misty gas.

He laughs, it’s a cold laugh, a tired laugh, an almost resigned laugh. “That's what I want to know. More than the rest of you, even, more than any fan ever could,”pity, looks of pity. Oh how she hated pity. “But you see, I've come to a realization. That I! Can never! Win! Never can beat him! And that's why… I'm going… TO HANDLE NEIGE MYSELF!” he could feel his skin slowly unraveling from the rest of his body, peeling off to reveal his rotten interior. Horrified, everyone’s eyes were boring into her like needles. Your eyes were boring into him like a thousand rusted lances, he wasn’t evil! She wasn’t a bad person—

“Please… Don’t look at me with those eyes, those eyes that grow cold only for me. Don’t look at me like I’m a heartless monster, DON’T LOOK AT ME!” he screamed throat burning as a bubbling black fluid escaped. A laugh cold cruel laugh escaped, “I want to be the fairest one of all, so why am I so...so...ugly? Ugly?! UGLY?!” Shouts echoed from every direction in the room, pleads— all frantic in nature. He saw you, your face aghast and coughing from the purple mist that swirled around you, you tried to reason— even in that sweet tone that was never once directed at him. Even in your fear, your suffocation, your blood rushing out from your face, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, you were beautiful. Beautiful…

“Yes, of course. If I just melt everyone else into a hideous mess... Then I'll be the fairest one of all, won't I? I’ll be beautiful enough for you surely,” it was the last statement uttered from her lips before his vision went black, before he had succumbed to the inky abyssal blot completely.

@styxwanderer - Lovely muted toned artwork as well as fanfic that was my introduction to the twst fandom here. I truly hope to see even more of her beautiful creations.

@sl-vega - Archived blog, but one of my mutuals from my Genshin days, she made the most wonderful SMAUs and was truly such a delight to chat with. Without her encouragement I fear we would’ve never seen me pick up the dried out quill and start to pen things again.

@zoropookie - Retired blog but made the funniest and most moving Genshin SMAUs I have had the pleasure of reading. We were Scaramouche ride or dies together stuck and joined by the same brand of cringe glue. I simply hope that whenever she is now that she is happy and healthy and fucking content.

@sherryclover - Wonderful art and her Yuu intrigues me heavily.

@robo-milky - Murder? Cannibalism? Death and more? Milky has got it covered! Her OCs delight me so much and anytime we are feed crumbs about the lot I lap it up like the starving dog I am. I’m sure there are no abundance of Pomefiore lovers but it is always so lovely to have even more. I fear we will never beat the allegations of being the most insane out of all the dorm lovers though (^^ ;)

@rooksamoris - I adore the headcanons and shorter drabbles she writes, as well as every single analysis and take she has not only on twst’s characters, but on the fandom as well.

@lexipage234 - The cutest art of your favorite Nintendo games! She made me the absolutely most lovely wax bead keychain a while back and I still treasure the masterpiece dearly.

@jewelulu - The number one Floyd fanatic in my heart ♡ Lulu’s art style is so expressive and wild, it feels as though I’m walking through a stained glass dream.

@xryptik - The fandoms we have both shed and gone through together, I cannot believe how long we have been friends for multiple years now. He was one of the people who first inspired me to start writing. We’ll skip away together hand in hand at our chronic onlineness. Truly, thank you :)

@pomefioredove - I originally found Claudie’s writing scrolling through the main fandom tag for twst a few years back, and while I may not have enjoyed many of the things I read there, it was all worth it to have found her. Her weaving of words and the way she is able to convey such loneliness and longing is a masterclass. Thank you for indulging me so in every random thought I do speak aloud, it means the world.

@the-haiku-bot - THE HAIKU BOT HERE? AS ONE OF MY TUMBLR MOOTS?!? HUH, WHAT, WHY EVEN? I’m still in somewhat awe that I have the Haiku bot as a mutual. Shocked I might be but thank you for following this silly fandom blog. Keep on making your haikus out of others’ posts, it makes me smile. 

@heartsiebyul - If you are in the mood for humorous and joyful headcanons and short blurbs, Heartsie is your gal! Still in awe that we became mutuals at all :)

@the-ace-reader (runs @twisted-up-in-wonderland) - Our every encounter makes me smile from the stupidity of it all /aff. Thank you for being someone to ramble my stupid twst opinions too and not being afraid to push back in debate :)

@rabioa - Vampire ramblings, in my hyper fixation? Yandere ramblings? Oh I’m in heaven~ I cannot wait to see more of your writings and as well as your brain worms. Please do indulge me, for I am quite the curious creature :)

@pearliichuu-art - Art so beautiful and vibrant it tastes like tropical fruit bubblegum! I love seeing her depictions of different Umas and Vocaloids!

@bunniblr - Ouuuughhhh his art is so beautiful and her twst ocs are so intriguing! I crave to know more about them.

@ceruleancattail - Ceru’s yandere fics give me such life, the ideas they pen and write are such beauties to behold! I have taken much inspiration from them over the years of running this blog and it truly is amazing that we are now mutuals, and dare I even say friends. Take all the time you need to write or recover, I will always be here for when you return :)

@mistforgetmenot - Such interesting and accurate analysis! I love how Mist deconstructs common fandom perception not only through relevant facts, but then proceeds to highlight how those characters function as narrative tools. Everything is so concisely worded and a pleasure to read through!

@eekykins (runs @eekywonderland) - Ehe where do I even start with Molly… Her art is so gorgeous and yummy and HOLY SHIT HOW DOES SHE DRAW AS FAST AS SHE DOES? Thank you for indulging in all of the worm’s thoughts and responding in kind with your own! I truly hope we can continue to be friends for a long way to come!

@selveristsaatan - Some of the most gorgeous and visceral gore art I have seen, your work truly inspires me to make my own fucked up abomination children in kind.

@crookedgalaxycandy - I am so happy to have found a kindred soul of both magical girls and twisted wonderland through someone else’s fanfic. Your enthusiasm is as bright as Cure Happy herself :)

@lawuchisw - POME TRIO FAN POME TRIO FAN, ONE OF US ONE OF US!!!! I love how they depict the Pomefiore boys so much, they all look truly beautiful in your style! One day I promise I will play a digimon game so I can know what the heck all of your other art is about (;-;)

@scribbleymewzaque (run by @mewzaque) - Mother I crave Ebi Yuuma content, mother I crave more twst Uma— *proceeds to fall down 8430702 flights of stairs and then dies and unfulfilled sunfish* Anyway I love their art so much it’s all so fun and silly. I can be normal I swear.

@souslesetoilesavectoi - Hiiiiiii~ I do adore Sous’s Yuu so much, she’s simply so adorable! The concept of having her be a selkie too? Ingenious. After finding Silver’s character boring for quite a while I think I’m slowly warming up to him thanks to her and another mutual. She makes me want to create more for my yume/oc ships as well as more of my ocs in general, so thank you :)

@boopshoops - WAAAAAHHHH. I love Shoopy’s art so much it’s so refined and colorful and the texxxttturrreeeeeessss. Very cool OCs as well and I love them all dearly (biting of their heads and throwing them around like chewing toys). Her Territory Au is simply fascinating as well and I do hope to further sink my beak into it. (Fellow chronically fatigued and ill people unite)

@shinysparklesapphires - The mutual in law has become the mutual. Still getting to know Sapphire but her art is simply so adorable! More Precure mutuals? On my fandom (essentially twst) blog? Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesy-

@amvs (also runs @bipolartwo where she makes the cutest stimboards!) - Based as fuck takes and generally such a fun person to be around. Reblogs the cutest dividers and images ever, and runs such a welcoming and supportive community for bipolar individuals :)