#tw: clover death

[dalvs-wife]

all i'm saying is that one of them probably had to carry clover's body to that coffin in the castle

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Force in Nature | Platonic Yandere Trey Clover x Toddler Reader

Being a child, in your experience sucked. Even with a developing mind there were constant reminders of all your faults. Short, weak, disadvantaged and constantly at the whim of adults. Most children wouldn’t mind so much, considering that the adults in their life mean well but not you. Never you.

“(Y/n) don’t give those fat brats anymore then that. They’re already eating us out of house and home.”

The drivel of your mother rings like a bell in your head. Always chastizing, always negative. It had gotten better now that she had found your father but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. In her mind she figured his children were the only obstacle left between her ‘happily ever after’ with your father. 

“Ace! Deuce! Did you break into this pantry again?!”

It didn’t help that the twins were rambunctious spitfires that were prone to trouble anyway. Which meant they were often forced to reach out their hands to suffer the wrath of the ruler. Their father was a popular man, often more focused on updating the town’s bulletin boards than disciplining his children but it was clear he loved them. 

But love was never enough to save the duo from your mother’s accusations.

At least once a day, your mother would report the twins for doing or saying something awful. It would always lead to an exhausted sigh before stomping over to the children to give another lecture and dish out some chore as punishment.

“This so unfair, we didn’t even do anything this time.”

“Well I know I didn’t. Maybe you did something Ace.”

“What!? How dare you blame me! Don’t you believe me, (Y/n)?”

You usually were a witness to their innocence, often spending your time with them anyway. But for whatever reason not being able to speak meant your written testimonies were invalid. No matter how many times you wrote in you’re book and presented it to your father it never seemed to work. 

“You’re so sweet (Y/n). Trying to save your big brothers; you know that lying doesn’t help their case anymore.”

It was fine when it was only that. Baseless accusations and then the punishment of simple chores. Every now and then a prank in return for their suffering but then the chilly warning of Autmn came around. While the likeness that the snow would pile too high was low, the scarcity of food was a guarantee. Already aware of the set portions you’d receive suddenly decreasing and the way your father didn’t dare eat with you all any more spoke volumes.Unfortunately your mother wasn’t all too fond of cutting material costs.

“Cater I’m telling you, we’ll never get to eat if we have those kids in the house.”

“But love (Y/n) would never survive the trip into town.”

“Not them you idiot! They hardly eat more than a rat! It’s those boys of yours! They’re so big they ought to be hunting for their own by now.”

“The boys…not them they are still children too.”

“Stop whining. I’m going to take them out tomorrow, to learn how to hunt.”

“You?! But you’ve never—”

“Shut-up! Maybe then I can get those kids to do something worth the wasted meal.”

Reporting to your brothers the plan for the day felt like being the espionage detail for a secret operation. It made you proud when they used their information to concoct their own plan. They deduced that she planned to ‘lose’ them during her hunting lesson. Thus Deuce’s genius-plan to leave stones leading to the house was born. It was a shame that this plan didn’t involve you in any way but you were happy to see Deuce leaving stones behind as your mother led him into the forest. 

Trying to comfort your father for a decision he didn’t protest felt odd. Of course, you wouldn’t understand the emotional struggle of his love life and the love of his trouble-causing twins. You are a kid, you aren’t supposed to know. Still, you let him hold you, mumbling curses to himself about cowardice as your mother opened the door. She huffed and puffed about him not greeting her before going off to prepare dinner. 

Unable to resist the urge you settled on the chair beneath the window. Watching the opening into the forest being led to by the stones. Sure enough, before the sun had set and the fourth time your mother had called you for dinner they were there. Appearing slightly dirty but determined they came just in time, much to your mother’s dismay.

Of course, what followed was a new plan for tomorrow.

“I’ll take them deeper in! And I’ll make sure to kick all those pebbles away”

“Please let’s just–”

“Starve!? We’ll barely have enough for dinner tomorrow! They must go!”

“But it’s so cruel.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

The silence from your father was telling and like before you reported to your brothers. They took your notes with just as much urgency as the last, instead trading their stones for crumbs from the sliver of bread they’d be given for lunch. At the time it sounded like a great idea.

But as the sun set and the critters of the forest picked at the crumbs left behind, it dawned on you. 

This was a terrible idea.

With a quickly scribbled note left on the window sill, you took a ball of yarn tying it to the bush near the forest opening. Following the disappearing trail of critters, you were walking in the direction your brothers went finding that it stopped in a clearing. From there the moon could no longer illuminate the crumbs still left and the critters weren’t leading you accurately anymore. 

It was getting colder. The woolen sweater and mitts are your only comfort. With a rumbly tummy and the heaviness on your eyelids increasing, you settled into the dirt. Promising you’ll find your brothers when you wake, staving off the fear from your shrunken spool of wool.

When the sun rose again you woke with renewed vigor. The pain of hunger leaving you for the time being you set your gaze to the ground. Of course, the crumbs were gone but vague indents in the dirt gave you enough of a guide. During your tracking you start the game of letting your smaller shoes take a fraction of their tracks following along as you replay a song your father would sing.

Eventually, the tracks stopped at a paved pathway, it smelled sweet like a candy you’d seen the twins eat. It made you curious but you trusted your judgment to ignore your hungry thoughts. The tracks didn’t continue past the pavement and knowing your brothers they’d certainly gave the brightly colored path a try.

The grumbling desires of your stomach weren’t spoiling your resolve— or that’s what you were telling yourself. Going down the hill the path led over it’s destination led you to a place you swore shouldn’t have existed. In a clearing, the candied path led to a gingerbread house, decorated with various frosting, gumdrops, and red vines. The fence around it was peppermint canes surrounding the sugary house invitingly. A perfect garnishment for an already delectable house. Your stomach agreeing you found yourself closing in on the gingerbread foundation perfectly level with your small mouth. 

Before you could dive in, you stopped. Thinking back to nicer days in the forest you remembered thanking the squirrels buried in the trees surrounding your cottage. Instead of burrowing inside your warm, inviting home they kept to their holes in the nearby trees. Of course, your young mindset wouldn’t have comprehended why animals that wanted to survive avoided the cottage. But that was beside the point. 

Your manners for the owner of the candy house would not be affected. Even though your stomach churned almost painfully at your denial. To make it easier you turned away from it crouching down to hold the grumbling organ. Repeating that you could eat when you returned with your brothers to share—no matter how little was left. 

“You are allowed to eat you know.”

The sultry voice of a man stopped your internal thoughts, peeking your head over your shoulder to look at the interruption. In the doorway of the house was a tall and handsome man, he reminded you of the young bachelor in town. Wearing a tight black long-armed shirt lined with rhinestones, your mother would envy. The dangling sparkles matched his pants which were long and wide at the ankles. His attire was interesting because you’d never seen it before, the man’s face was just as alarming. Hair as green as the surrounding trees was flowing to his waist contrasting his black outfit in a ragged but neat look. It was like a halo of green against his pale skin, golden eyes, and pink lips.

“You look hungry, why don’t you take a bite?”

The way he said it was hypnotic. An inviting and comfortable thrum of a voice that started to pinprick into your morale. You shook your head as if that would expel the greedy thoughts threatening to take hold. You hurriedly pulled out your notepad writing as neatly as you could. Holding up your notepad, you hoped he could read.

'It’s your house…that’d be mean.'

He leaned in to see what you wrote, retreating back to the arch of the gingerbread door.

“I was the one who chose a candy house. It just comes with the territory.”

He flashed a smile, white as milk. You licked your teeth beneath your mouth, feeling the plaque build-up that you’re sure makes your teeth yellow. Thinking of brushing, your memories trickled the moments you’d had with your brothers. The excitement that came with using your toothpaste for anything but. It reminded you of your real objective.

'Have you seen my brothers?'

The man tilts his head. You proceed to draw them to the best of your ability; trying to use the charcoal to detail the colors of their hair, and their height compared to your own. It’s hard to tell if he knows anything as his small smile hasn’t waivered. But as you scribble and point you worried he’d stopped listening.

“How about you come inside, have a bite, and I can help you find your brothers. That sound like a plan?”

You nodded. Standing up, you rushed to his side to grab his extended hand letting him lead you inside.

'My name’s (Y/n), what’s you’re name?'

“Trey. You can call me: Trey."

'Nice to meet you, Trey!'

“Likewise.”

______________________________________________________________

Trey Clover loved to eat children. It was in his nature to come from a long line of baking witches. It wasn’t a trade secret that children extend your life and beauty; the real secret was how to craft the potions with the children to make delicious desserts. Forest animals and pesky adults were fine ingredients but nothing was more fulfilling than a child’s soul. They were also much nicer to have as victims. They cried sure but they were dumber, more gullible, and so much easier to fatten up. But for all the children he’d consumed over the past century, there was something Trey could definitively say was the truth.

That Trey Clover loved children. His family ruled him as demented for such a thought but it was the truth. For all the fulfillment he’d have after his rejuvenating meals, there was still a resounding sorrow that nothing he could make would overshadow. Nothing but the shining presence of another child. 

Trey rationalized that he wasn’t crazy, humans had pet pigs all the time. He’s no different in that way. That every now and then the thought of keeping one crossed his mind, diminished at the thought of one thing or another. Whether it was a spark of brattiness that was hidden behind a sunny demeanor or just the undisciplined actions of a bully in the making. It reminded him why he’d never let himself feel too bad as he tossed their belongings into the basement after a satisfying meal. He figured it was natural selection. Like any other predator, he looked for the weakest, the slowest in the pack to pick off and sustain him for another ten years. 

But he’d begun to waiver with such an innocent soul in his grasp.

“How was that? Was it good?”

'But my brothers–'

He'd close the pad before the question was asked.

“Your head is so warm, I think you’re coming down with a fever.”

Cradling the young child, he settled to swaying them to sleep. His usual victims were not so young, often much older and more defiant. That is why it was such a treat to have a well-mannered impressionable little toddler to care for. With a resolve to their mission that was unavoidable, it still was nothing against the bedtime routine he’d been taught long before. He couldn’t remember if it was his mother or one that he’d eaten but she detailed the way to care for small children with such pride. In his heart of hearts, he’d admit to having eaten her out of envy. But now she proved more useful than her bones as he ran a bath for the yawning toddler.

Distracting them with talks of nothing as he gently wiped the grime off their little body. He had to refrain from frowning at the signs of a rash on their back. He was blankly staring at the untreated patch, cursing the adults who’d allow a sick toddler to run through the woods. But from their other children’s stories, they weren’t all that good to begin with.

The sound of a sneeze reminded him of his task.

“Bless you. After your bath I’m just rub a little ointment on your back before you settle down okay?”

They tiredly nodded, Trey resisted the urge to coo.

“You’re doing a good job staying awake. Let’s finish up before you fall asleep, okay?”

His parents were completely right about him. What sane witch would have a room decorated for a toddler already made, already infused with sleeping herbs that’d erase the thoughts of the past? 

“Goodnight, my sugar cube.”

The notepad had been abandoned long ago. The urge to burn it was growing.

“Tomorrow we can look for your brother.” 

The demanding sign of '2 brothers', made him laugh. Not after today you wouldn't.

“Maybe one day sugar cube, sleep tight.”

Kissing (Y/n)’s head and waving as he closed the door, Trey was elated. It was difficult to wipe the smile off his face when he unlocked the basement door.  

It wasn’t just as he left it per his instructions to the bratty boy. Ace was far too skinny to be worth a good meal and from what Trey could tell a decent worker under stress. Trey figured it’d be hard to break his spirit if the other boy was around. Of course there was a chance it'd return with his little one. Trey would bet on fear and duty overwhelming him and he’d fall right into place.

“I see you’re working extra hard. Good.”

______________________________________________________________

Ace stopped sweeping, his little knuckles white as he fought the urge to scream at the witch. He only wanted to see his brother. After the first night, he knew rebelling would get him nothing but trouble. 

“Can I see my brother now?”

Trey hummed closing the door behind him, he didn’t bother to lock it. He knew the boy wouldn’t want to leave. He took the ring of keys from his belt twirling around his lithe finger as he stepped deeper into the basement. Ace stuck close to his side, waiting anxiously to see his brother again. 

The last time he saw him, his face was wet with tears. His hands were still sticky from the treats they’d gorged on, angrily shaking the unmoving metal bars around him. Ace couldn’t sleep if he tried. 

“Before we go in, you two have a younger sibling. (Y/n) was it?”

Ace’s already sped-up heart-rate, went seconds faster. The collection of little papers in his hands with a tattered cover was far too familiar.

“They sound so determined to find you two.”

“What did you do to them!?”

When Trey turned his head over his shoulder the sneer he gave, bore into Ace's soul like a needle. Flashes of the suffocating pain the night before demanding he fix his demeanor immediately. 

“Quiet boy.” The command was like a heat rod, sweltering from such a short distance. He looked away from those golden eyes for his own sake. “I won’t be doing anything to them if you behave.”

The final warning hung in the air with the door now unlocked. The metal door swinging open was a cruel mirror of when they first accepted the invitation to eat some more. There were tables of sweets and pastries along the cracking walls of the room. A table with a checkered tablecloth and a painted chair were placed off to the right side of the room; waiting for someone to enjoy the decorative plating on its surface. But unlike the day they first arrived a metal cage was hanging from the ceiling and his brother Deuce was in it. 

“I’m glad you ate. At least hunger won’t be the last thing on your mind.”

Trey’s off-handed comment was ignored as Ace ran to clutch at the bars separating him from Deuce. As best as they could they hugged one another, the cold and rusted bars a constant reminder of their unfortunate circumstance. 

“Deuce I can’t let this happen! I have to do something!”

Deuce shook his head,” No, if you do anything bad he’ll eat you too! You’ve got to get back home and find Dad!”

Ace pulled at his orange strands, “I can’t he has (Y/n).”

Deuce’s serious face, quivered. His brave instructions became mute as he imagined their youngest sibling unknowingly falling into the same trap they did.

“You have to protect them. Please, Ace.”

The blue-haired boy couldn’t speak anymore his nose running and tears falling again. All he could do was clutch at Ace’s hands, attempting to put his forehead against the bars to feel his brother's. Ace was crying too, barely standing as he held onto his brother.

“Are you done? I’m not getting any younger over here.”

Trey's snide remark was not appreciated, nor was his giant hand pulling at the rags of his clothes, shoving him toward the oven. Ace didn’t need to ask for Trey to point at the brush and pan on the floor.

“Clean up the oven. The metal earrings from my last meal will make him taste worse.”

Ace murmured his distaste as he opened the oven door. Looking into the deep black mouth of the oven, it amazed him that whole people could fit in there. 

It also gave him a devilish idea.

“Uhm I don’t know how to.”

Trey turning towards him was frightening, the black coloring around his eyes flaring with such disgust. 

“Are you troubled? You just go in and sweep the ash at the floor of the oven.”

Ace pretended to look into the oven before jumping back, “Are you sure there’s not someone down here?”

The witch was prepared to punish the boy but he thought of the toddler upstairs. He had dreamed of the day, he would be called to check the closet for monsters. He figures if he’s keeping the defiant one, he should show some of the same care that he’ll be showing for (Y/n). 

It’s all too easy for Trey to climb inside, having done so on his own, hundreds of times before. Crawling to the back he felt the child coming up beside him, immediately making him grab the head of the boy. 

Ace felt his stomach flip. Had he figured him out?

“We can’t go in at the same time, wait ‘til I’m done.” 

“O-okay.”

As instructed Ace crawled back out, watching how the witch's body fully disappeared into the oven. Once his feet passed the threshold of the oven’s opening, he didn’t hesitate to close the oven door. Jumping up to flick the lock closed, Ace ignored the angry banging as he pulled at the red-colored lever to turn on the oven. 

The feeling of the heat flickering to light brought a successful comfort to the orange-headed boy. The frantic banging from within the oven was as frightening as the demonic screaming from within. 

“W-wait but the keys! He still has them!”

Ace assured his brother with the jingling object in his hand. Deuce pulled him into a teary hug once he’d been freed from the metal cage. The smell of sweat and burning flesh, never being so enticing. The moment between the two stopped as the banging became more and more apparent; the lock clicking as it held the oven closed.

“Let’s get out of here before he breaks out of there.”

“I agree.”

Deuce is the first to run through the door and out the basement; likely because of his time in the metal cage. Ace on the other hand faltered, snatching an armful of the pastries lining the room. He flipped the bird at the furnace and ran to lock the door to the basement door. Before he did, he took a moment to pay his respects to those before him. Bowing his head at the rows of shoes and belongings he’d organized, he apologized again before snatching a satchel. With the final locking of the basement door, Ace lets Deuce run up the stairs to search for their little sibling. 

Allowing Ace to have free reign of the upper floor that had deceived them before. He was never considered a good kid but he hardly saw the appeal when he had no qualms about breaking whatever he couldn’t take. 

“It almost makes this all worth it!”

Deuce, on the other hand, found you easily. The room had a distinct smell that almost made him feel safe. Going out on a limb he found his baby sibling curled up underneath a fluffy blanket. He easily tucked his arms underneath to carry them, he stopped to notice the spool of wool falling from their hand. Deuce put two and two together; smiling at the sleeping toddler in his arms. 

“Thanks to you, (Y/n). We’ll all get to go home.”

The trip back was like a minor stroll. The original dangers of the forest were diminished to minor nuisances in comparison to the horrors they’d endured. Of course, the two still had other things to worry about when they did return home.

“What are we supposed to do about the step-lady?”

“Hm, I don’t know maybe we should push her into the oven too.”

Ace laughed and usually, Deuce would scold him for the macabre joke. But Deuce didn’t really consider that a joke nor was he completely against it. The brothers had plenty to think about as they each took turns holding their snoozing sibling. 

It’s probably best they didn’t look back at the candy house. 

For they might be filled with dread at force they awakened.

[sexylinoleum]

What? More @lynxgriffin stream art? Who could have seen this coming?

It's actually a pretty efficient system when you think about it, Asgore gets to avoid a potentially dangerous battle and the human ends up right in the coffin room for added convenience.

Bonus under the cut.

[floatingeyeball8]

so the neutral ending may have broken me (drawings below the cut)

undertale yellow was so AAAAAA <3

probably gonna make some lighthearted fanart later but have this angst for now

[oddlyhale]

The scene that made Qrow one of the worst characters in the show. I used to not like Clover, but I cannot deny that this scene did the worst for him for no reason. He didn't deserve this death and didn't need to die in the first place. It was forced trash that feels motivated by a multitude of things, that being 'cheap shock value' or to kill a potentially gay-code character.

It's my first time seriously analyzing this, which was a lot of fun.

[the-kr8tor]

Crimson Clover

<<< PART III

You choose to live.

With your broken fingers, you gingerly pick up the loaf. Bringing it to your bloodied lips, you take a bite.

It tastes like light, light amidst the dark. It comforts you, sealing your wounds, bones magically unbreaking, moving back to its sockets. You swallow it with a sigh.

For a few minutes your pain finally subsides, leaving only a dull ache in your ribs. Standing with the help of the table, you sit on the head of the table. His chair.

You sit, eyes closed, back against the cold marble.

“You chose to stay” Hobie says in a broken voice, cloak torn to shreds, black blood seeping out from his side.

“Hobie!” You run towards him, limping slightly. Taking his shoulders, he looks for any indication of your previous injuries, finding none except for the blood drying on your skin and clothes. “I couldn't–I couldn't leave you, I can't”

Hobie nods with understanding, he knew this was a possible outcome, seeing it chosen by you a hundred times before.

“Are you okay?” Bringing him to his chair, he sits with a groan. “I knew you'd be alright” you cup his cheek, wiping the marks left by the entity on his perfect skin.

There's a gnawing in his heart, is this better for you?

He exhales a shaky breath, bloodied hand holding your own. “You're staying?”

You nod, a sad smile on your face, tears trapped in your eyes. Is this better for him?

“I am” bringing your face closer to his forehead, you breathe him in, the same scent you're familiar with since you've first met him, from the past to the present. You're sure it'll be the same in the future. “You won, right? That thing won't come after us?”

“For now. Nothing ever dies, love.” He leans away, knuckles caressing your temple. “‘m sorry that I've trapped you here with me.”

Did you choose right?

You tell him your name, your true name in a hush whisper. Hobie hides his face on your shoulder, lips over your thumping pulse.

Your hearts beat as one. He'd love and protect you, fighting fate herself until he can't. Until your mortal death, then the cycle begins anew.

A/N: Anndd we're at the end! Thank you so much for joining me on this ride! Much love to all of you ❤️❤️❤️

[kogetaikid]

TW!!!! CHILD DEATH/UTY PACIFIST SPOILERS

I’m never getting over this

[collabwithmyself]

Is Poppy Fielding the mother of Clover Fielding?

Yes, she's Clover's mom! She was a sweet and caring person, and continues to be so even in death. Her losing her battle with cancer has contributed significantly to Clover's fear of hospitals and disease.

Edit: I've tagged her in a couple more posts that mention her!

[wolfsnis]

Clover (7/4/09-6/28/24)

I had to put down my beloved cat Clover yesterday. He was about a week shy of his 15th birthday.

He had been having "teeth issues" about two years now, but hindsight is 20/20 and it was probably the cancer growing in his jaw all along. But we didn't know until this year, in April. Then he got some badly infected teeth removed and we thought that was the end of it, but about two weeks later we realized the vet's original prediction was correct. We suspected the cancer also spread to his brain, as his behavior got increasingly erratic in the last two weeks. On the 27th the tumor caused his jaw to break which pretty much inhibited him from eating and drinking. It was the right call to put him down, but it still absolutely destroyed me. I don't know if I will ever be the same.

We picked him and his sister up as newborns from the family farm. His mom gave birth to them during a flash flood so they had to be inside. My parents said they had a third sibling (probably the runt) that didn't make it, I don't remember tho. I won't upload them here for obvious reasons but there's pictures of me when I was five or so holding him when he was just a few days old. We didn't even have carriers when we took them home, me and my brother carried them in our arms the entire time. Definitely not safe now that I think about it.

He had been with me throughout my life. When I came home from school he would be meowing at the door to greet me. I could never sneak around at night without him joining me (and often being very loud while doing it, he was a very talkative cat) he loved people food and would regularly jump up on the dinner table to "join" us for dinner. If you left your meal unattended for a moment he would snatch it up. He liked to drink the milk out of the cereal bowls. We had to cover the sink when we had meat unthawing because he would help himself. He would also frequently raid the pantry and eat uncooked pasta for some reason. He had such a silly meow too, possibly the most masculine-sounding cat I've ever heard. I swear he could say some words like "mom" and "hello" when he wanted to. He was a smart little guy, so maybe. He was a surprisingly fearless cat too, one of the few I've ever met who wasn't afraid of the vacuum. He straight up did not give a fuck. One of my favorite activities was to wake him up while he was napping just to see him look at me all disgruntled and then settle back down. I don't know why, but it always made me smile. He also really loved the outdoors, despite the fact we never let him outside until the end. He had a very high prey drive and attempted to take down a magpie until the magpie tried to take him down, lol. He was a very happy, active, and loving cat right up until his last day. So much so we went back and forth on putting him down.

He was a very charming cat, everyone who came by the house would comment on him. He was so full of personality and loud, he wanted to be involved in everything and that included social gatherings. People absolutely loved him. I had several friends joke that they would steal him from us. He made such an impact on people. He was so beloved. Maybe even a micro celebrity in my small town.

I was distraught last year when I had to move out for college. I demanded pictures of them every day I was away. When I did come home I loved watching him sniff me and then light up in excitement and meow when he realized I was back. I really hope he didn't think I abandoned him.

Saying goodbye to him yesterday was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. He's been such a huge part of my life for so long that the fact I have to go without him from now on feels like a foreign concept. I still don't know if I've fully processed the fact that he's really gone yet, if I think about it for too long I start to feel nauseous. I keep expecting him to round the corner and greet me or to hear him meowing when I close my bedroom door. My poor little buddy, I was really hoping you'd have a few years yet.

Rest easy my sweet boy. You were so much larger than life.

If you've read this far, thank you so much. Here's a gallery of him, bask in his greatness!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

a “blink and you’ll miss it” moment

So uh 💀 you remember how Deuce got possessed by a ghost in Endless Halloween Night?? Well—

***CONTENT WARNING: mentions of death and kidnapping (more specifically, child abduction).***

... Isn’t that implying that a child died young?

First of all, consider that the behavior of the ghost is very juvenile. They’re distressed, and their immediate instinct is to express that distress by crying and calling out for their mother. While it’s possible that it’s an adult ghost (crying and calling out for a parental figure isn’t behavior that is restricted solely to young children), it’s also their choice of vocabulary that gives the impression of a kid. The ghost complains about being tired, scared, and, most telling of all, claims that he has a “boo-boo”. Even Sebek, the first character to notice the crying, mistakes it as belonging to that of a child.

Something else that’s kind of odd is that the ghost makes strange assumptions about Sebek, Trey, and Rook. Whereas the other ghosts are mainly adults who assume the NRC boys are attacking them, stealing from them, and/or intruding on their territory, the ghost that possesses Deuce thinks that Rook and co. are planning on KIDNAPPING him. Rook talks about his handkerchief was soiled because he had used it while sitting on a grave earlier, so he isn’t able to offer it to wipe Deuce’s tears and snot now. This causes the ghost to freak out, accusing Rook of planning on putting the handkerchief over his mouth to kidnap him.

That’s... weird, right? Why would a little kid suspect such a thing unless their parents instilled fear of unknown people in them... or the kid experienced it themselves? Because while I’ve heard of parents warning their kids to stay away from strangers, I’ve scarcely heard of parents going into explicit detail about HOW a kid would be abducted. And not only that, but the reaction was so visceral; the ghost immediately runs away (and, in the battle, says he “doesn’t want to fight”).

Following the battle, Sebek and Deuce’s sprites are very close, and the animation that plays for their 2D live rigs implies that Sebek has a hold on Deuce or is restraining him in some way. This is what gets the ghost possessing Deuce to snap and finally decide to leave the body--being restrained by someone far larger and far stronger than they are.

Upon the ghost’s departure, they say that they’re going “back to mama”, which implies one of two things: either the mom also died with her child, OR that the mom eventually died of old age and reunited with them. Either way, it’s super morbid to think about, especially if we (hypothetically) accept that the child not only died young, but was also traumatized via a kidnapping before their death.

asudffoyifeqebpfhdbsai I’M PROBABLY OVERTHINKING IT 😅 but hey, it’s something interesting, isn’t it? I doubt I can wrestle meaning and/or implications of death for every single ghost that possesses a NRC student (like... how am I supposed to get anything out of “Lollipop the Candy Fairy”???), but Deuce’s ghost was definitely one that “stood out” to me.

[wild-moss-art]

I think it’s interesting how the main protagonist deaths in rwby have all been framed as a personal choice. Cinder tells pyrrha not to follow her, penny asks jaune, and now ruby drinks the tea. Now I definitely have thoughts on that stuff but right now I want to talk about the choice to die versus the choice to live.

All our “good guys” choose to die for the cause, or choose to die because the cause is hopeless. While the main antagonist, salem, specifically does NOT choose death and her story is about her defiance of death. Death is framed as not necessarily a good thing, but a thing that happens to good people. Jaune lived long enough to see himself become the villain, mirroring Salem’s story. Summer hasn’t died, which is framed as worse than if she had.

Then there is the theme of rebirth. Rebirth is framed as a bad thing, a sort of torture, an inability to escape the inevitability of death in any of your lives. Ozpin is not coping. Penny was brought back to life, and then brought back again, and it was all futile because in the end she still chose to die. Alyx used the tree’s rebirth to sacrifice(?) her brother.

Ultimately, ruby will be reborn in the tree, which I can only conclude is going to be a catastrophically bad thing. She will not use this rebirth to let go of her sorrows and instead will be shaped by them, becoming something worse. Maybe wby will have to fight her. I don’t know.

[telefonemast]

Count the days where I felt whole

This is my first time writing literally anything lmao, I'm editing and posting stuff semi-consistently. If u take some time to read this, thank you! (https://archiveofourown.org/works/53395966/chapters/135145096)

- Starts shortly before the Ceroba fight in true pacifist. As Clover is haunted by fragments of past resets as he goes through the underground. He's been able to push forward so far, but when he's betrayed by the only person who hasn't killed him yet, will he finally snap? Ceroba has been planning this moment for a while now, and although she's gotten a bit attached to her human companion, she knows what she has to do. But in the end, will she stop herself from repeating past mistakes, or will she follow through? Cringe description, ik, but what I'm putting here isn't super long, and I have more planned, so if you stop to read this at all I'd be over the moon! As I said before, this is still mostly WIP, the story isn't going to change, but I'm trying to improve, any and all constructive criticism is welcome (please, I need feedback)

-

Since falling down, Clover’s original purpose of finding the fallen children had slowly faded to the background. He wasn’t stupid, he was able to quickly figure out rather quickly that the missing humans were long dead. With nowhere to go back to, and his purpose gone, for a while, Clover just decided to allow Flowey to drive him forward. He knew Flowey was lying to him, but the flower clearly needed Clover for something, and that was reason enough for him.

He learned early on that almost every encounter started with a fight. Clover was able to peacefully resolve each run-in with some fast footwork and quick thinking. The battles were even a bit entertaining in their own way, and it never felt like there was any real malice directed towards him.

However, the monsters he encountered didn’t seem to register the fact that his body was fragile. He didn’t blame them, most of them probably had no idea how weak human children were. But, as he made his way through the Dark Ruins, it became more and more difficult for him to emerge unscathed. He figured out that he could heal himself with food after an encounter in Snowdin, where a crab monster had pinched his arm hard enough to pierce skin; and since then his supply of items had started to dwindle.

The first peaceful interaction he had with any monster, aside from Toriel, was at the Snowdin Resort. Most of the monsters had never even seen a human, and those that had were simply curious. The more he talked with them, the more he realized that the monsters had been trapped down here unfairly, unjustly. He saw it in their eyes, a buried despair that was only barely covered by a facade of optimism. Most of them had nothing to do with the war, let alone the fallen children; so why had they been left down here to rot? Finally he had real purpose, something worth working towards no matter how vague and impossible the task seemed.

He pressed on, doing his best to shoulder a portion of their burden so that he could give them a fraction of the happiness they had been robbed of. So that he wouldn’t be forgotten.

The first time he died was during what he thought was his first encounter with Martlet. During his battle with the blue bird monster, a feather had gotten dangerously close to his soul. He blinked, and for a split second he saw the feather he had just dodged pierce clean through his left arm, causing him to fall to his knees in pain. While he was preoccupied with the unexpected wound, another feather slammed through his forehead, snapping him back to the present, blinking away tears at the sudden phantom pain.

Afterwards the visions became more prevalent, MUCH more prevalent. Every encounter brought with it a near constant onslaught of memories that Clover forced himself to ignore.

I've only gotten this far because of it right? Without this pain I wouldn't have been able to accomplish anything, without this curse I wouldn’t be useful to anyone.

Besides, he could take it, he had to.

He tried to convince himself that Starlo, Martlet, and the others hadn’t meant to kill him in those memories. It was just his fault for being incompetent, he was doing enough that they didn't want him dead. Right?

As much as he desperately wanted to open up to his new companions, being with them only caused him to spiral deeper into the pit of doubt he had dug.

The only exception was Ceroba. She may not have been the most compassionate monster, but Clover felt an odd type of assurance when he was with her. He sympathized with her quest to obtain justice for her daughter Kanako, and without her he would have died, or at least died more than he already had, attempting to navigate the Steamworks.

However, the biggest reason Clover felt at ease with Ceroba wasn’t because of what she had done, but because of what she hadn’t. When he was with her, he didn’t have to worry about having memories of false death's flash before his eyes.

She was calm, collected, and for some reason cared about him enough to protect him during their journey together. After she began to open up more about her daughter, Clover found himself wishing he had a parent like her to protect him, to make him feel worth something.

Clover knew good things never lasted forever, but was it really too much to hope that she could care for someone like him? ______________________________________________________________________

Pink leaves floated slowly through the air, pushed steadily to the ground by the whispering wind. Clover stands up to face Ceroba, stopping only to quickly glance at the prone forms of Martlet and Starlo. Ceroba stared down at him, eyes filled with a dark determination.

“Clover… I… I'm sorry for what I've done.”, Ceroba’s voice sounded almost uncertain now, a stark contrast to the anger and conviction moments prior, “I almost wish you never showed up in the Wild East. Maybe then I could've continued to bury my sorrows in the Saloon.”

Clover's gaze was locked onto the Kitsune, one of the few people he thought he could consider safe.

“But now... I must follow through with my mission. I've somehow grown to respect the hell out of you but… At the end of the day, you're naive. There is so much you don't understand about monsters. What, did you think you'd jump down here and find them? Five humans, living out their lives, unharmed… That isn't how it works.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Clover whispered, he may be a child, but he wasn’t stupid.

Ceroba continued, “Then what? Was your plan to plead for a free ticket back to the Surface? He only needs two more SOULS to shatter the barrier. Wouldn't hesitate for a SECOND to make that one. But who am I to criticize how he carries out business?”

Her head jerked back and a tense laugh escaped her mouth, “Here I am about to do the very same thing I am a hypocrite. I am no better than Asgore on a scale of morality, I'm sure of it. But what I am, is proactive. Truthfully… I have nothing left in life, so I've made peace with throwing it away.” At this, some of the tension drains from Ceroba’s face, but only for a moment as she locks eyes with Clover.

“Nothing left? You had Starlo! You had the gang, the town!” Clover screamed.

You had me.

But it was clear that Ceroba wasn’t listening anymore.

“You'll fight back, but you can't forever. Goodbye.”

Clover gripped the handle of his toy gun as he prepared to draw. He thought back to his battles with Starlo, Martlet, the Feisty Five… Even if the resets had taken a toll on him, he truly believed that they didn’t want him dead, that they cared.

Now, he was facing down the one person who seemed to realize that he was a child, someone who had helped him without killing him; and now she wanted him dead.

Ceroba twirled her tasseled staff through the air and Clover yanked his gun out of its holster. His soul appeared, and the small rooftop faded to monochrome… and for the first time in Ceroba’s presence, his vision went black.

In the memory, a ball of beautiful crimson flame burst from the ground behind him, striking through his chest and killing him instantly. Clover braced himself for the phantom pain that usually accompanied each vision, only to scream out as his entire body burned with the heat of a flame that wasn’t there.

His vision flashed black again, this time he was hit from the front, another flash, from the sky this time. Body and eyes alight in agony, another scream tore itself from his mouth as countless visions, countless deaths piled on top of each other. Clover stared up at Ceroba with wide eyes, panting with exertion even though the fight hadn’t even begun.

Tipping the brim of his hat down so it covered his eyes, Clover realized that this wasn’t a fight he could win by deescalating, this was a duel for survival, and Ceroba wanted him dead.

[winterstaryu]

After my mom died, I found a blog she ran from like, 2006-2011.

It was insane to read, honestly. She talked about the neglect like it was just something that happened. We never had enough food, she felt guilty. She still left us alone.

There's one post, talking about how GRATEFUL she was to have such independent kids, that she was able to leave for a week to go to a conference and we were all fine at our grandparents.

I remember that week. I remember not really knowing where she was, but knowing that my Dad was angry about it. I remember being so homesick I couldn't stop crying.

And another one, about how she 'pulled off' leaving us alone for 24hrs while she was at a birth. My oldest brother watched us for most of it, he was 15 and there were 5 of us, the youngest was 2.

I just. I remember the time CPS was called to check on us. I was 14, it was a Wednesday, we were on our way to my grandmother's house, and I told her that I was worried about my siblings too. My brother was almost 9 and still couldn't read.

She pulled over to the side of the freeway, and told me that if that was how I felt, I could get out and walk home. Sitting there, with the cars rushing past us and my siblings sobbing in the back seat, was probably the most scared I've ever been in my life. I apologized, and begged her to keep driving.

She told me she couldn't believe she'd just spent $500 on me. It was for treatment for my scoliosis.

I. There isn't a point here, it's just. All

been on my mind lately

[chaoticsorceressztc]

I know that's not how the song goes but I was doing it by memory

(The song is In Our Bedroom After The War)

[destroyed-wonderland]

Styx Logs

Day 6: Everything is falling apart...

When things fall apart, you'd expect you would lift yourself up. And things will be ok, not in an instant like anime but close.

But when we awaken to see our school to become a desolate location hurts. Seeing a somewhat good school turn rotten and places full of blot and ghosts ready to kill you at any moment.

But the more heart pumping thing was finding out that one of us is missing...Riddle was missing..

If that wasn't already a heart wrenching experience to witness, you'd be surprised on the fact it was Riddle and not someone like Ace..

Trey and Cater suddenly burst in the room,both horrified. Cater was trying to breath whole Trey tried to remain composure but...he was crying.

That meant one thing for us. Riddle was DEAD... Grim caught his very first victim...

Trey told us that he noticed Riddle sneaking out and he and Cater followed.

But they weren't as close to see the impact. When they finally catches up, they could only find Riddle's body, without a head..

[dark-nymph3t]

Hey Libby, I just want to start off by saying im so proud of you, I may not know you or your relationship with your Grandpa personally...but judging from the post you wrote about him...he seemed very important to you and meant alot to you...Im sure he is very proud of you and watching over you everyday, regardless of what you do, even if you make a mistake or feel like you are losing yourself...I know for a fact your grandpa would still love you for who you are and nothing...not even your flaws or mistakes would change that.

Merry Christmas Libby 🎄🌟 I wish you a lovely holidays if you celebrate it or not and a happy new year 💕💕💕💕

If you dont celebrate then I hope you have lovely rest of your 2023...you deserve a nice break my friend.

Take care of yourself, remember to drink water and eat food, and to give yourself a pat on the back (:-)

Hi Clover, merry Christmas, I hope you had a wonderful day and you took care of yourself <3

Honestly, I’m a massive mess right now. I was very close to my grandpa and I’m really really upset. He died on Christmas on his birthday, and just, I’m really fucking sad. I love him so much, he is the soul of my soul and I’m honestly just so tired of losing people. Four of my family members have died in the past year and I’m exhausted, emotionally and physically. I miss him, there’s a massive hole in my heart where he was and I just want to lay down and scream and cry.

Take care of yourself, and happy New Year. May 2024 be more kind to all of us.