What Happens In Flowers: Trace Line Art - Spoilers?

My name is Rose Bailey. I am seventeen years old and about to start my senior year of High school. I have always lived a normal, boring, human life. Never believed in the supernatural or the love at first sight sh#t that others girls my age fall for. That is until I move with my mom and two brothers back to the small town where my mom grew up. My mom makes us stay at this house or should I say castle with a lot of other people living their. Imagine my surprise when I walked in on a man and two women that looked to be 20 or 21 having in a room that looks like an office. Imagine how surprised I was when I was froze in place, unable to move as I felt a sharp pain in my chest from seeing them together as he one from behind while she leaned over a desk from pleasure and the other women was him. The man froze in place and looked at me with a guilty look on his face. The pain got worse in my chest and before I  blacked out I swore I heard him say Mate! 

In Gangnam, Seoul's district known for it's wealth and glamour, a series of mysterious disappearances and brutal murders occurs. The criminal is quickly called by public the 'Cherry Blossom Reaper' because of his choice for young, beautiful women and fact, that the day after the kidnapping, in the place of the disappearance, he leaves a small bouquet made of artificial cherry blossoms, slightly sprinkled with the victim's blood. When the daughter of the well-known fashion house CEO disappear, the case is transferred to Kim Soo Min, a female detective from Seoul's Investigation Departament. But as it turns out, the case is not easy to solve, even for such a talented detective as her. The list of suspects is getting longer and evidence does not clearly indicate any of them. [ IMPORTANT: This story is entirely fictional, just like its characters. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. ]

Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | 18+ | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Pace It started with a kiss I don’t remember giving. A rooftop. A moan. Someone’s fingers buried in my hair like they belonged there. A mouth on my throat that said I tasted like something they lost in another life. I wasn’t dreaming. The city was already cracking beneath me. Power grids flickering like dying stars. Tech failing. Screens static. The sky bruising in strange new colors. Everyone said it was coincidence. Collapse. Noise. But I knew better. The moment I felt her breath on my skin — even if I couldn’t see her — I knew the end had already arrived. And I had something to do with it. Ten butterflies followed me after that. Not literal ones. Not always. They shimmered in my periphery. Each the wrong color. Each too vivid. Each drawn to me like heat to blood. They touched me in dreams. They watched me when I undressed. They whispered without words. I could taste their want. Some called me cursed. Broken. Unstable. But the truth is simpler. I’m blooming again — and they all feel it. They don’t love me. They remember me. They remember what I used to be — what I still am, underneath the silence. One of them burned me with just a kiss. One broke my spine with kindness. One slid her hand under my shirt like it was always hers. One cries when she touches me. One never speaks, but her eyes dig. One wants to keep me. One wants to ruin me. And one just wants to finish what we started. They think I’m choosing. I’m not. My body already did. And now the bloom inside me is turning darker.

Lili, an orphan of the endless wars, had no one to thank aside from the old mistress who saved her from the slum alleys. Hired as a servant in the same orphanage where she grew up, Lili would learn that everything that she had believed in was nothing but a lie. In the midst of despair and hopelessness, Lili would meet a masked Duke, a mysterious man who spews fire. His first greetings, 'Will you be my wife', as stunning as his emerald-hued eyes. With the Duke on her side, the hidden clues about Lili's true identity slowly unveiled themselves, one secret at a time. And before the couple even knew it, the abyss had already dragged them into the true world of power and lies. A story of a possessive dragon duke and his mischievous flowery wife.

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.

After eight years of marriage, I finally get pregnant with Claude Frey's child. It's my sixth round of IVF, and my last chance. The doctor says I can't put my body through it again. I'm overjoyed, ready to share the good news with him. But a week before our anniversary, I received an anonymous photo in the mail. In it, he was bending down to kiss another woman's pregnant belly. That woman is his childhood sweetheart, the one his family watched grow up. She's gentle and well-mannered, and the kind of daughter-in-law every parent dreams of. The funniest part is that his entire family knows about her pregnancy, except me. I'm just the punchline in their joke. It turns out that the marriage I've been holding together despite all my wounds is nothing but a carefully crafted lie. Fine. I don't want Claude anymore, and I'll never let my child be born into a world built on lies. I book my ticket to leave on our eighth anniversary. It's also the very day he's supposed to take me to see the sea of roses. Before we got married, he promised me a sea of flowers all my own. But instead, I find him in front of the rose garden, kissing his pregnant childhood sweetheart. After I leave, he starts searching for me everywhere. "Don't go, please?" he begs. "I was wrong. Don't leave." He finally remembers the promise he'd made to me and plants the most beautiful roses in the world in that garden. But I don't need it anymore.