#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

edit: read the first tag, thank you

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Force in Nature | Platonic Yandere Trey Clover x Toddler Reader

Part 2

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.

[delta-drawsarts]

UTY - To Save a Sister | Part 2 (1/2)

Start/Previous/Next

GAME OVER. Or is it?

Clover wakes up in Void, a place between life and death, after their initial sacrifice saving Kanako from being crushed. However, even with the multitude of times they've died, this is the first time they've actually ever been here. At least, conscious enough to be aware.

And it seems like somebody was here waiting for them. Nothing would've prepared Clover of the aftermath of their death, especially with how gruesome it was. But hey, at least their sacrifice wasn't in vain, right?

R i g h t . . . ?

[smokesandsonatas]

Just wanted to pour some grief on the NRC boys.

Characters: Everyone in Night Raven College.

Warnings: Mentions of death. Slow death. Reader/Yuu is aware that they are dying. Headcanon after-effects of overblot. Gender-Neutral reader.

Not beta read.

Mors immatura

Your death rang hollow in the halls of Night Raven College.

You had vomited blood.

Crimson streaks splattered your trembling hands, and for a brief moment, you stared at them in horror. Your breath hitched, panic rising within you, but soon, a strange, eerie calm settled over your body. You wiped the blood away hurriedly, rinsing your mouth as the metallic tang clung to your tongue. Deep down, you could feel it, your magicless body is finally paying its toll. It was in your bones, your heartbeat slowing, your fragile body unable to cope.

Your time was running out.

With dizziness clouding your vision, you left the bathroom, finding Grim eagerly waiting for you. 

He didn’t know.

No one did.

….

Your sight had begun to blur, but you blamed it on the lack of sleep. The strain from fighting alongside the others, surviving every overblot, without the aid of magic, had taken its toll. The faces around you gradually began to warp into something sinister—shadows and streaks of color, barely recognizable. Faces twisted, shapes indistinguishable, until all you could see were faint glimmers of light.

You had survived seven overblots without magic. You had made it this far.

You would survive this.

Or so you told yourself.

…

You often thought about it—about what would happen if you died here in Twisted Wonderland or somehow returned home. In every scenario, Grim lost. In every outcome, he was alone. That thought crushed you more than anything else, a weight heavier than anything you’d ever borne.

You closed your eyes, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose. The sharp taste of metal lingered on your tongue. You looked down to see blood, a tiny crimson droplet on the paper in front of you.

Followed by another drop of red, then another. Until your blood had mixed with the ink of your pen in your trembling hands.

You crumpled the paper and threw it away.

…

It was undeniable now. You were dying. Your body—magicless, human, frail—had withstood more than it was ever meant to. The overblots, the chaos, the endless strain had pushed you past your limits, and now your body was breaking. You grabbed your lip balm, pressing it against your dry, cracked lips, but the balm melted, unable to heal the itching, peeling wounds.

Death looms near over you.

…

You had collapsed.

When you woke up, the cold floor of the bathroom pressed against your skin. Ghosts had knocked on your door, asking if you were alright. You shouted that you were fine—you feel your throat tear as you do so, but when you glanced at yourself in the mirror, you saw the truth. Bruises covered your body, dark and angry—blood had burst beneath your skin. Your lips were cracked and bleeding. Your eyes… lifeless.

Then blood dripped slowly from your nose and mouth.

You are dying.

How would they react when they found out? The people you had fought beside, helped, befriended, all without the magic they took for granted. Would they even care? Hastily you returned to your bath, the water in the tub turning a disgusting mixture of brown and red.

…

In the hallway, you found a strange sense of peace. Despite everything, you had played a part here. You had healed wounds that went deeper than magic, helped those around you without any powers of your own. You watched Grim, running ahead, his laughter mixing with Ace and Deuce’s banter.

You looked around at everyone: Malleus walking with Lilia, deep in conversation, Vil and Rook sharing a private laugh. Leona and Ruggie exchanging teasing remarks. Idia—talking to Azul regarding club matters, with Ortho by his side. Kalim swinging happily beside Jamil. Trey and Cater following not far behind, lost in their own conversation. The Leech twins laughing loudly, their voices filling the hall. Riddle, Epel, and Silver having a quiet chat. Sebek and Jack comparing their strength, as they always did.

Your heart swelled. Grim would be okay. They would all be okay. They didn’t need you anymore.

"Grim," you called out, your voice steady but soft. A few heads turned in your direction, confused, including Grim’s. He blinked at you, tilting his head.

"I'm glad I came here," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

And then, you fell.

Your body crumpled to the ground, your head colliding with the hard stone floor with a sickening crack.

…

Crack.

The sound of bone on stone reverberating through the hallway. The air went still, thick with an eerie silence. All eyes were on you, lying motionless on the cold floor, blood beginning to trickle from your nose and mouth. A slow, dark crimson trail painted the stone beneath you.

For a moment, no one moved. No one breathed.

Then the first scream pierced the silence.

“Henchman!” 

Grim’s voice cracked as he bolted toward you. His claws dug into the floor, dragging him closer, faster, panic ripping through him like a tidal wave—fur standing on end. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the blood pouring from your lips, staining the stone red, your eyes rolled at the back of your head, and the way your chest no longer moved with breath. "No, no, no, no!" His voice was a desperate plea.

Grim wasn’t the only one who lost control.

Ace was next, pushing Grim aside, his hands frantically grabbing your shoulders. "Get up! Get up!" His voice shook, but it wasn’t a tease this time—it was desperation, pure and sharp. Blood smeared his hands as he shook you, but your body didn’t react. “You’re fine, you’re always fine! Don’t—don’t do this!” Magic had started accumulating behind him, like a slice of a sharp card against frail skin.

Deuce collapsed beside him, his face ghostly pale, his hands trembling as he reached for your face, wiping away the blood from your lips with shaky fingers—all it did was smear your face in red. “No… please… wake up…” His voice was barely a whisper, cracking with a grief he hadn’t known how to feel until now. Tears slipped down his cheeks, splashing onto your clothes, mixing with the blood.

Riddle stumbled forward, his composure unraveling as he tried to get past his two subordinates now in hysterics. He pressed two fingers to your neck, searching for a pulse, but there was only stillness. “No…” His voice broke, and a tremor of uncontrollable magic sparked from his body, making the air ripple. “No, no, no. You can’t be—Wake up!” His voice rose into a cry, desperate and accusing, but the accusations were aimed at himself.

Leona stepped forward, his face twisted in rage and disbelief. "Out of the way," he growled, shoving the others aside as if they were nothing. His claws dug into your arm, hard enough to leave bruises. "You don’t get to leave. You hear me?" His voice was low, dangerous. He leaned in close—you reeked rotten, his breath hot on your skin. “Wake up.” His voice was a command this time, snarling through clenched teeth.

But you didn’t stir.

“Wake up!”

Nothing.

Leona’s eyes darkened with something primal, something dangerous, his grip tightening, magic sparking at his fingertips. “You’re not leaving.” His voice was a snarl, deep and guttural. “I won’t let you leave me.”

Behind him, Malleus’s eyes burned with an unearthly glow. He took slow, deliberate steps toward your body, his presence making the room seem smaller, suffocating. His gaze was fixed on you, and beneath his calm exterior, something twisted and dark brewed. “No,” he murmured, his voice like a storm cloud forming on the horizon. “This can’t be the end.” His magic flared, crackling in the air like lightning about to strike. “You will wake.”

Lilia, always watchful, grabbed Malleus by the shoulder, trying to pull him back. “Malleus, no—your magic is too unstable right now.” Even he, the one who had seen so much loss, struggled to contain the well of emotion building inside him.

But Malleus’s eyes glowed, filled with a dangerous desperation. “I will bring them back,” he whispered. His voice was sharp, cold. “I must bring them back. I cannot lose them.”

Sebek froze, eyes wide with disbelief, his entire world crumbling as he stared at your lifeless body. "Prefect!" he roared, voice trembling with desperation as he rushed forward, but his hands hovered, shaking, too afraid to touch you. For the first time, the brashness that defined him cracked, and his voice softened to a broken whisper. "This can’t be real..." Tears welled in his green eyes, his heart shattering under the weight of failure. 

Beside him, Silver fell to his knees in silence, his calm exterior replaced by a hollow expression. He gently took your cold hand, his own tears slipping quietly down his face as he whispered, "You were supposed to stay with us..." Both boys were drowning in the same crushing grief—Sebek’s magic flaring wildly beneath his skin, fueled by helpless rage, while Silver’s quiet sorrow seemed to darken the very air around him. 

Azul, watching from the side, taking slow steps towards your cold body, felt all three of his heart drop into his stomach. His thoughts whirled, a hundred ideas—contracts, spells, anything to fix this—each more desperate than the last. His eyes had split into two horizontal slits. “This can’t be real,” he muttered, his voice trembling. His mind raced through his memories of every deal he’d ever made, but nothing could reverse death—No! You’re not—!

Floyd’s laughter echoed suddenly, sharp and jagged. “Hehehe… little shrimpy’s just playing dead, right?” He leaned down, his long fingers grabbing your shoulders. His grip was bruising, almost cruel, as he shook you like a ragdoll—no response, instead blood had gushed out of your ears. “Get up. We’re not done having fun yet, right? Right, Shrimpy?” His grin was wide, but his voice cracked. “Come on, don’t mess with me like this.”

Jade was silent, his hand resting lightly on Floyd’s shoulder, his gaze fixed on you. He said nothing, but the twitch in his jaw betrayed the turmoil brewing inside him. His hand gripped his brother’s shoulders tight, as if he was also grounding himself against the shock coursing through his body. His eyes were fixed on you, cold calculation flickering beneath the surface.

Grim’s breathing grew heavier. His little chest heaved, his eyes locked on your body, the blood pooling beneath your mouth. He backed away slowly, his fur standing on end, his pupils shrinking into pinpricks.

It’s his fault.

The thought slammed into him, unbidden and cruel. If he’d been stronger—if he hadn’t needed you to fight for him—you wouldn’t be lying there now, still and cold. The rage bubbled up inside him, thick and dark, something feral.

“NO!” Grim screamed, his voice warping as thick, black flames exploded from his body. The ground trembled beneath him, cracks spiderwebbing through the stone. Black sludge began to rise, oozing from the cracks, his magic spiraling out of control as he overblotted. His eyes turned black, his tears mixing with the darkness pouring out of him. “YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME! I WON’T LET YOU!”

The flames grew, licking at the walls, dark magic pulsing from Grim in violent waves. The very air around him warped, as if the weight of his magic was threatening to crush the room itself.

The others barely noticed.

Malleus’s magic roared to life, his desperation turning to fury as he stood over your body, green lightning flickering at his fingertips. “This world… this place... It doesn’t deserve you if it takes you from me!” The darkness in his voice reverberated through the hallway, his magic on the verge of snapping.

Leona’s claws dug into the stone floor, his muscles taut, rage barely contained. “You will not depart,” he growled, his fangs bared. Jack had froze beside a wide-eyed Ruggie, who now trembles, their voices leaving the both of them. The beasts had gone cold, dissociating from reality. 

Riddle stood frozen, shaking violently as his magic flared uncontrollably. His eyes flicked between you and the others, panic and helplessness overtaking him. “This can’t be!”

Even Idia, standing further back, his face pale, muttered to himself, his mind spinning into madness. “I—I should’ve done something. I should’ve—I can’t… fix this…” His words tumbled out in a frenzied whisper, as if his mind was collapsing under the weight of his thoughts. The familiar flicker of a tablet or the comforting click of his keyboard were nowhere to ground him now. His shaking hands reached for nothing, helplessly twitching as if trying to summon some unseen solution from thin air.

His usually distant gaze, now haunted, locked onto your lifeless body, his breaths coming in shallow, irregular gasps. "I-I... I should've been faster, smarter... anything... ANYTHING." His voice trembles, and he stumbled back, hitting the wall behind him like a marionette with its strings cut. His fingers dug into his hair, pulling at it as though the physical pain could stop the onslaught of guilt ravaging his mind.

Ortho rushed forward, his sensors going haywire as he scanned your body. “No… no… no signs of life detected.” His voice, usually so calm, so confident, trembled with panic, his little hands trying to support his dissociating brother. “This… this can’t be…” His mechanical heart raced as he looked up at his brother, but Idia was unresponsive, lost in his own spiral of grief.

Around them, the world seemed to warp and twist, the sheer weight of their grief and magic bending reality itself. The stones beneath their feet cracked, the walls groaned under the pressure of the overwhelming despair. The storm of emotions threatened to tear the very fabric of Night Raven College apart.

And at the center of it all, you lay still, blood seeping from your mouth and nose in slow, dark rivulets.

You were gone.

And with you, the fragile threads that held their world together had snapped.

The world had become a swirl of madness, magic crackling in the air like a live wire ready to snap. But as your blood spilled, that dark crimson seeping into the cracks of the stone floor, more footsteps echoed down the hall. A shift in the wind. Others arrived, drawn by the sound, the fury, the unmistakable metallic scent of blood that clung to the air like death itself.

Vil’s sharp gaze fell upon the scene first. His flawless expression cracked, just for a second, before his entire being seemed to tense, the air around him growing taut. “No… no.” His voice was a whisper, cold disbelief woven into every word. He dropped to his knees beside you, his fingers brushing your skin. Cold. Too cold. His lips twisted into a snarl. “This is unacceptable!” he screamed, the desperation in his voice mingling with fury. His perfectly controlled magic flickered, unsteady.

Rook followed closely behind, his usually composed smile twisted into something unsettling. “Trickster…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He knelt beside Vil, his eyes scanning your still form, the blood that stained your lips, the emptiness in your gaze. “Non, this is not how our story ends, I will not let it!” His hands clenched into fists as his magic pulsed in frantic rhythm, the usual elegance of his movements gone.

Epel was shaking, his fists white-knuckled at his sides. “No, no, no…” he whispered, his voice small, filled with disbelief. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, staring at the blood—your blood—that pooled around your head—shit, why are you bleeding everywhere?! He clenched his teeth, tears slipping down his face as he screamed, voice cracking, “WAKE UP! This can’t be happening! You promised we’d go back to Harveston together!” His eyes burned with the beginning of an overblot, the tension in his frame snapping as his magic rippled uncontrollably.

Jamil and Kalim arrived moments later. Kalim’s face was pale, the usually joyful light in his eyes dimming as he saw you lying there. His lips trembled, the words stuck in his throat. “No… no… You can’t leave like this!” His voice was barely audible, his shaking hands hovering above your still form as though afraid touching you would make it worse. Tears streamed down his face, his entire body trembling.

Jamil was deathly silent, his face an unreadable mask, but his eyes told the story. He was calculating, desperate, thoughts spinning rapidly for a way to fix this, anything to undo this nightmare. His usually steady breath hitched, his magic swirling like a hurricane beneath the surface. “This… this shouldn’t have happened,” he mumbled, his voice low, filled with suppressed panic.

Trey was next. He saw the blood first, the way it dripped from your mouth, your nose. His hand covered his mouth, but his eyes betrayed his calm demeanor—shattered. “This isn’t right. They can’t… they can’t just be gone.” His voice faltered, the certainty crumbling away as he kneeled next to Riddle, who was still shaking violently, unable to tear his eyes from your body. Trey’s usual calm was gone; his hands trembled as he looked for any sign of life, but the stillness of your chest was all he could see.

Cater followed, his usual easy-going demeanor obliterated. “No way… no way…” His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes darting from your body to the others. The red, the stillness, the sheer finality of it all twisted something in his chest. He dropped his phone—in his haste to be close to you. “Come on, don’t leave us like this…”

All around you, magic rippled violently—like a dam ready to burst. The boys couldn’t accept it. They wouldn’t accept it.

The stench of your blood was heavy in the air, metallic and cold, thick like death itself. They all felt it, tasted it. The scent stuck in their noses, their throats, clawing at their lungs as denial and rage took over.

The smell, the sight of your blood—your blood—on their hands, on the ground, on your lips, drove them all to the edge.

They couldn’t lose you.

Malleus’s magic lashed out first, the walls groaning under the weight of his unchecked power. “NO!” His voice shook the very foundation of the school. Green lightning cracked across the floor, a storm of dark energy coiling around him, suffocating. “I refuse to accept this! I refuse to let them go!”

Vil, clutching you, cried out as his own magic spiraled. “This cannot be how it ends!” His hands trembled, unable to reconcile the beauty of life and the hideousness of death sprawled before him. “You will open your eyes again!”

Leona’s magic exploded in fury, his claws digging into the stone, cracking it beneath his weight. “God damn it!” he snarled, his voice guttural, raw with unspoken grief. “Wake up herbivore!”

Grim’s overblot had fully consumed him, black flames scorching the floor as he screamed into the void. Snarling at anyone who dared touch your cold body. “YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME! I WON’T LET YOU!”

And just as it seemed the entire school would collapse under the weight of their magic, the teachers arrived.

Crowley stood at the front, his usually calm, distant demeanor shattered. “Enough!” he yelled, though his voice wavered—with fear perhaps, at the thought of a student losing their life under his supervision. A strong magic bursts forth his cane as he tried to snap back his students to reality. Professor Crewel followed, his face a mask of fury and disbelief as he forced his way through the students, his whip snapping as it cut through the swirling darkness. “Control yourselves!”

Professor Trein moved in beside him, his face pale but determined. “We must act quickly,” he muttered, his voice low and strained.

Even Vargas, normally brimming with energy and confidence, stood there, his usual bravado swallowed by an unbearable solemnity. His massive arms hung limply at his sides as he tried to process the sight before him—You, the human who had survived every challenge, now lay motionless. 

Without a word, he strode forward, bending down to gently lift your lifeless body into his arms—Ignoring the snarls, and the hysterics thrown at his way. His usual strength seemed to falter as he cradled you, his broad chest rising and falling with heavy, uneven breaths. His gripped on you tightened, you had gone cold.

The chaos reached its peak, every student fighting to grab hold of your body, to deny the truth staring them in the face. But no amount of magic, no outpouring of rage, could undo what had been done. No force could bring you back from the edge you had already crossed.

Years will pass, and the world would move on without you, but the heart of Night Raven College would never fully recover.

[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.

[bitterverse]

WARNING: BLOOD, DEATH

Soooo Blaise and I have been cooking in the background. This is Bitterverse Killer's Clover.

You know, before he killed her and everyone else in his timeline.

Repeatedly.

They were silly guys who liked each other but it turns out that the existential horror of living in a timeloop and remembering it kind of fucks with your relationships with other people.

[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 ❤️❤️❤️

[lemon-whiskey]

I think the existence of the reincarnated soulmates that bees represent is so fascinating bc it means, theoretically, complimentary soulmates exist but in the form of a romantic tragedy. In some way one tries to jump after the other.

I just think it’s something devastating, that balance moves. One matching pair continues where another fades out, especially that it insinuates that reincarnation is active in remnant far beyond just Oz.

This is fair game, I’m leading into fair game being another complimenting pair. Notably their eyes/ Qrow’s salmon red vs Clovers teal green.

Their beliefs being the cliff with a interesting inversion.

Clover died because he believed in a vision he couldn’t see (more implied in his hesitation than stated so idk personal interpretation.)

Qrow jumped after but in the other direction. He decided to believe in a Vision that he couldn’t see before:

In the clips of V8/9 Epilogue of Vacuo, his notable line is that he feels optimistic, something Qrow is lacking in the series- I wouldn’t say it’s specifically bc of Clover- most definitely he’s a lil add on factor but it’s mostly team RWBY that spark this.

Along side it, I think spotting partner reincarnations within Remnant involves a strong romantic (or platonic) connection that manifests in complimentary colors- and yes it is definitely a rarity.

[wildcardaces]

@agent-a-cpfancomic "impossible odds" edition!

Where...ouh.

Oh no--

But first Shawn being a little stressed!

Shawn: something's wrong with me.

Quil: I hate it when you say that

Shawn: I just feel out of it dude

Quil: that's not helping.

Quil: ...sorry, I just can't help but worry, I dunno why.

Shawn: ...hey, best case scenario is I'm just stressed.

Quil: and worst case?

Shawn: we'll deal with that when it happens.

Shawn was feeling kind of stressed out, he didn't mean to make Quil worry about him *sobs*

And the finale!

The reason for Shawn's stress. (TW Death)

Shawn, holding statistics Mai gave him: ...what...?

Shawn: 100% mortality rate.

Mai: ...yes.

Shawn: Avian flu...what clover and I had...has a 100% mortality rate.

Mai: yes...

Shawn: then-- Clover and I...! How did we--

Mai: I don't know Shawn.

Mai: all I know is that there is a world out there where you both got sick...

Mai: and NEITHER of you woke up again.

TODAY I LEARNED: avian flu in birds has a mortality rate of essentially 100%

Neither Clover or Shawn should have survived, Shawn especially. Those two are straight up anomalies holy fuck.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Force in Nature (2) | Platonic Yandere Trey Clover

Part 1

If Trey could explain what climbing out of the charred skeleton of his own body was like he’d say it was repulsive. Yes, there was no blood to dirty his hands and knees with but the small bits of ash and bone-crunching underneath his weight wasn’t comforting either. The hours spent sitting in the waste of his own remains as he pushed at the iron door of his furnace. In those hours that blurred into days, he’d thought back to the children who’d felt the same pain as he. On this cycle of self-incrimination, he’d thought back to the last faces he’d seen. That unruly red head he’d shooed out the furnace, the crying blue-haired boy in the cage, and the small toddler he’d put to bed minutes before his capture. In the days that agonizingly became weeks all he could think about were the only things that mattered. How he could have achieved his goals differently, revenge, and how hungry he was. He knew humans if they could resurrect from their ashes alone would have died of starvation by the time he’d begun to think coherently again.

But he was not human. 

He was a witch. 

Who died countless times because of something he didn’t need to do. 

Witches didn’t need to eat children. It was a preference. A tradition he continued from his family to maintain his age every 50 years. Children were easy to prey on, and known for their enriching souls. But it truly wasn’t necessary…adults with decent lives would have been just fine and Trey imagined if given the chance again he would have preferred to do that instead. If only because of his burning desire to have a family of his own still present. To think after dying at the hands of a child he thought of making his own he still wished nothing more than to have a life filled with child-rearing. His brain silencing his resentment with defense for the child responsible. He truly must be insane.

With the endless time in the darkness of the oven, Trey effectively strikes this hole within him for romantic attachment. He has had his fair share of partners that he often spared from being an ingredient for his desserts. He never felt the need to actively pursue anyone but if he ever got the chance to adjus this diet that’d had to change.

With no other thing occupying his time Trey only found his only interest to be scheming. Thoughts about what he’d do if he found the children responsible for his entrapment. What he’d do with another chance at life beyond the darkness of the oven. How he’d forget his taught aim for beauty when it’s done nothing but gotten in the way of what he’s always wanted. Thinking as though he’d never get the chance to enact it. His imagination filled his heart with a desire for this reality. But deep down he knew it’d be years before the iron lock would decay with rust enough for him to escape. By then the children he remembered would have moved on and become adults. It was best that his reality be kept with him in the confines of the oven; if only to spare the world of the monster he’d become. 

Creak.

“Hey look this place has an oven too!”

On second thought—the world was filled with monsters what was one more?

______________________________________________________________

A clog shoe bumped into a worn notebook sprawled on the floor. The owner of the clog sighed and bent down to lovingly hold the book. The blue-haired preteen knew exactly who this belonged to, gently collecting the bundle from the floor as he navigated his way over abandoned clothes and toys. Deuce already knew where the owner of the notebook was, looking out the window to see his siblings scampering near the edge of the woods. With their chores done, Ace and (Y/n) would spend the rest of their time enjoying their time together. Playing games and chasing one another was a past time the two of them partake in religiously. 

Deuce was just glad there was no one cruel enough to stop them. 

Not anymore. 

Since the harrowing escape from the child-eating witch, a new option for unruly adults had appeared. And his stepmother was the second lucky candidate. Of course, he and Ace agreed they’d never tell (Y/n) how that happened but the truth of the matter was that they had one parent now. That parent—their father was decent on his own. Between his civic duties, his socialite practices, and his job he was a nice father. Not as present as any of the other single parents in town but Deuce wouldn’t complain. After all they’d been through he was just happy they could still play without the looming dread about what happened. 

On an outing in town–something Deuce found himself doing more now that the woman was gone– he saw that many of the men previously sent to the militia littered the allies. Homeless, injured, and ignored as they mumbled about the horrors of the battle-field. While Deuce wouldn’t say he and his siblings survived a war they certainly could be considered survivors. Some nights he awoke to Ace calling out to him in his sleep. Pleading with the apparition in his nightmares to let his family go. 

It was heartbreaking. 

Deuce wouldn’t delude himself that he was grown up enough to pity his brother. He knew that he wasn’t spared from the effects that experience brought. Even their younger sibling now much older had an anxiety over being left alone. Over a span of two years, they refused to write out the entirety of their journey. Only giving bullet point on their experience. Ace confided in him that he thought it was because of guilt that they didn’t share more. Assuming their experience wasn’t as violent as theirs it’d make sense. But like Ace, Deuce couldn’t bring himself to mad at anyone but the witch themself. 

To think there was a being that kept the shoes and keepsakes from their past victims, forcing his victims to clean the very place those children probably begged before. It was an evil beyond words but it taught them all to be wary of people. Adults mostly. 

Sure, it shocked their father when they refused to go into town with him for the first time since their return.Thankfully their father didn’t think too much about it, in the same way he didn’t think much about the news of his missing wife. For all he knew, the children were happy being at home by themselves. Magically being more behaved on their own than with their step-mother. 

That was fine with Deuce. 

Perfect with Ace.

And what was best for (Y/n).

As long as the three of them stayed together, they’d be better off. Things were different now but that was okay. Because as far as Deuce was concerned they were better off than ever before. 

______________________________________________________________

“Why did he bring out these candles?”

The written question brought the brothers’ attention to their frantic father. Darting around the kitchen with a sweaty brow and dressed in something nicer than his pajamas. It was the question they all were asking. Ace and Deuce scrunched their faces in disgust at the last time they’d seen those dreaded candles out and about. The last time the twins had smelt the burning scent of macadamia nuts and vanilla their father had introduced a young chatty woman who’d turn into the nightmare that plagued their daily life. It eventually did lead to (Y/n) being born but that was beside the point. 

“Is he seriously getting into dating again?” Ace snickered. 

The redhead was already replaying the pranks that bothered his stepmother the most. Prepared to unleash a renewed sense of menace since their grand escape. (Y/n) recognized the look on his face, smiling to themself as they wrote their own plans into their notebook. Looking over their head Ace was already considering what to do being so close to dinner, it would have to be a minor prank. The two watched their father, trip over himself as he struggled to carry the extra chair to their dining table; scampering in silent giggles as they decided on one of their schemes. Deuce didn’t bother to follow, reassuming his role as the innocent bystander drawing the focus off the mischievous duo. Huffing to himself, he entered the kitchen offering to help with getting dinner together. 

“Aw Thank you Deucey! I was hoping you’d come help, you know ever since your mother went missing you’ve been such a big help.”

Deuce smiled as he finished seasoning the food on the stove,“Happy to help!” 

He really was, especially since their father would be cursing their existence by the end of the night. Deuce was aware that by the time a knock was at the door and Ace and (Y/n) returned all smiley, that they were prepared for the night ahead. When their father quickly smoothed back his gelled hair and opened the door revealing the unwitting victim for this evening all the children within that shack felt reasonably threatened.

“Hey Tania, happy you made it!”

“Thanks dear, I’ve been looking forward to it.”

Their latest enemy was a newcomer to the village, a librarian that was looking to settle down. With blocky glasses in front of golden eyes, black hair with a greenish tint, and a slim fitted dress of course the children’s father was taken with her. Far too young for a man his age, this woman made the children’s skin crawl. 

“You didn’t tell me what adorable children you have!”

Their father nervously chuckled, “Aye well they’re so independent they’re more like little adults.” 

Ace shared a look with Deuce, the latter lightly shaking his head vetoeing the chance for a snarky comment. Rolling his eyes he turned to their younger sibling who was already preparing for their first prank. Joining back into the conversation Deuce made sure the adults were occupied. 

“That’s not right. Children should be allowed to be children, it's important they have a childhood.”

The woman woefully tilted her head, making their father fumble with his words.

“Y-y-you’re absolutely right! I just hope they get all of that without their mother. Uhm Bread?”

Ace mimicked throwing up which made both of the children giggle from behind their plates. It earned them a glare from their father who covered that up with passing the plate of bread. Unknowingly setting the stage for their first prank.

The woman’s raised eyebrows indicated she noticed the unfortunate state of the bread before their father did. Lifting a slice all she found was the wet and drooping remains of the bread that everyone seemed to be enjoying. The children hid their smiles by stuffing their faces watching as she examined everyone’s plate and silently cringed at her own. 

“Is something wrong, Taina?”

Completely unaware their father brought her attention back to him. She shook her head bringing back her painted smile.

“No nothing at all.”

Deuce was surprised their previous step-mother was quite loud when they tried that prank; blaming her future husband for barely being able to make bread. They received an earful for that one. Embarrassing their father was off-limits, apparently. But if this woman didn’t mind keeping such things to herself; Deuce figured it’d be better in the long run. With a look to (Y/n), he knew what was next. 

They gathered everyone’s attention with three taps to the table. Once everyone’s eyes were on them they pointed to their cup which was previously filled with milk empty once more. Ace decided to heed their call.

“I’ll go get the pitcher for you (Y/n).”

Excusing himself from the table he made his way to their tiny ice box, grabbing a pitcher filled with the milk he’d squeezed that morning. Usually they’d feel bad if it was their father’s work but he hadn’t touched their cows in months so it wouldn’t be a big deal considering their plan for their next prank.

“Such dutiful children, Mister Diamond you must be proud.”

“That I am. As I said they are so incredibly independent!”

Acting as though he hadn’t heard a thing Ace returned, “Would you like me to pour it for you (Y/n)?”

The little child shook their head and reach their hands for the pitchers handle. When Ace finally pulled away (Y/n)’s hands momentarily held the pitcher before giving to it’s weight. The glass pitcher clashed down to the table spilling the white drink directly onto their guest’s plate and off the table trailing into her lap. There was the added bonus of the milk’s initial splash which coated the woman’s face, making for a hilarious scene to the children at the table. 

“Oh my goodness!”

“Oh Taina I’m so sorry!”

(Y/n) quickly adjusted their handle on the pitcher properly filling their cup and putting it away. Deuce silenced his giggles, offering to clean up. Grabbing a napkin he kept his laughter to himself as the woman voiced her discomfort their father fussing over her awkwardly as he tried to wipe her off. 

“I’m so sorry about them! The children can be so clumsy.”

“It’s…alright. Children who usually do things by themselves happen to learn the hard way.”

“Or in this case the wet way! Am I right?”

Taina stopped smiling as she looked their father with disgust. Looking around he found his children were doing the same. He pulled at his collar as though that would relieve the newly created tension. 

With an awkward cough he attempted to start again,”So is this something you’ve noticed with your own children or was it in a book you read?”

The question seemed to alleviate the atmosphere, everyone going back to cleaning the mess. 

“I have no children of my own. I’m always too busy traveling to have any children of my own but now that I’m settled maybe I’ll change that.”

Their father visibly swooned at that and Ace delivered a firm kick to the older man’s knee. Hiding his grunt of pain with another cough he went back to his seat, resuming his dinner. Everyone was eating once more and the children were more than prepared for their final prank. 

During the commotion of the spilt milk, Ace had swapped the bowl of noodles for something of his own concoction. Having planned for this from the start he waited for Taina to ask for the noodles to which he happily obliged. Their father kept her attention, eyes solely on her as she filled her plate with the dish he felt proudest of. The other children were struggling to hold in their laughter as they watched her mindlessly stab and curl her fork within the specially crafted noodles Ace had made. 

The noodles Ace had provided were from his very own collection of maggots and worms covered in the sauce their father had made–to an untrained eye it looked exactly the same. It seemed as though Taina was discovering this as she took her first bite, stopping any motion to chew as she realized that the noodles were wriggling within her mouth. In frantic realization and a mouth far too full she looked at the red-headed boy who smiled widely at her. Looking at the other children she realized they too were well aware of what she’d put in her mouth and were all eagerly waiting for her grand reaction.

“So what do you think?”

Their father looked at her expectantly, completely oblivious to the organisms pushing at her lips begging to be released. (Y/n) with a breathy giggle they couldn’t delay put their hands over their eyes, almost frightful of the blast that was meant to come. But alas it did not because instead of vomiting or opening her mouth to reveal the horrors inside, she chewed. She chewed, gnashing the creatures within to bits before swallowing heartily, making all the children drop their jaws in shock. 

Taina licked her lips and her teeth for good measure, sending a beaming smile as she took their father’s hand.

“It was delightful!”

______________________________________________________________

From then on Taina was a forced to be reckoned with. Without an utterance to their father about what she’d endured she took on whatever pranks the children had come up with. Dodging bags of manure, somersaulting over spills, and devouring the little creatures Ace relied on to make any other woman squirm. 

It was torture.

Taina had gone from an occasional guest, to one that stayed over night far too quickly. Suddenly taking over the kitchen to cook meals for everyone. Implementing her own traditions where she read to everyone before bed. Demanding the children take tests with her grading their work.

While she wasn’t actively wicked like their last step-mother, her will was no compromise. 

When she demanded their father do something he’d do it, even when he was so exhausted he could barely stand. When their father wished to join the neighborhood watch she refused demanding he prioritize the family and his rest. It was frightening how quickly their father had gone from an active socialite to a man dictated by Taina. 

That wasn’t all, so many things had changed and not just within their home. On one of his last trips to town Deuce noticed how many families were in mourning, apparently looking for their young adult sons and daughters. Ace noted that their kitchen had begun to change, filled with appliances they never would have gotten with their father’s salary. 

It was (Y/n) who offered an answer to all the strange occurrences as of late. One that terrified their brothers to no end but with no other explanation it seemed to be true.

“You’re the witch from the forest. The one that wanted to eat us, right?”

Ace was the one to confront her, cooking in the kitchen with a resolve to confirm their worst fears and face the witch head on. She tilted her head at him, turning from the oven to put her hands on her hips.

“Are you saying you’ve met a witch in the woods?”

Ace growled,”Don’t play dumb with me! I know what you are!”

Her curious smile fell and for a moment Ace thought she’d start to cry but that died when her painted lips curled into a devilish smile. The green tips of her hair seemed to climb to the roots fluttering in waves of magic that made her yellow eyes shine with malice. Her white teeth sharpened exactly the same as the witch who’d forced Ace to organize the shoes of victims from years before. For a second the red-head found himself right back in that basement staring desperately up at the witch who declared that he’d eat his brother in exchange for eating his candy house. 

“Glad we don’t have to lie to each other, anymore.”

The voice that came out of her mouth was exactly the one from the witch in the candy house–sultry, smooth, and a masculine sound. One Ace regretted to say he admired before his brother was threatened. 

“What do you want this time? To get revenge on me!? To eat me?!”

Taina or Trey made a mockery of his anger, jutting their painted lips out in a mock pout. With an offended hand on their chest, they pitched their voice to match Taina’s.

“Me? Never I’m a changed witch! I’m not here to eat you kids…” Trey couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from within slipping back into their original voice. “No I’m here to eat your father.”

Ace growled charging his head into Trey’s stomach attempting to throw punches and scratch at the green haired witch whom held his head at an arms length keeping all his assaults inches away. 

“Hold on. You didn’t let me finish.” With a light push, Ace stumbled into the wall behind him, unprepared for the pain budding from his back. Trey, picking up on his pain, bent down on one knee to continue,”I will eat your father if you all don’t help me get what I want.”

Ace peeled himself from the wall, swatting at the hands that attempted to catch him when he stumbled forward. Shouldering his pain, he pushed on to ask the question that’s been plaguing his mind.

“What do you want?”

Trey’s wide and unsettling smile softened, reminding Ace of when they first met the witch. 

“A family.”

If Ace felt better he would have laughed. Instead he settled to scoff.

“You?! A family?! With the kids you tried to eat?!”

“I didn’t try to eat all of you.”

“You tried to eat my brother!”

“You locked me in an oven!”

“You were going to eat my brother!”

“...Fair.”

Trey sighed sitting down on both knees, in a attempt to level with the boy. Looking into the scared fiery eyes of Ace, he closed his own as he spoke. 

“I just want to try and see what life is like with a family. Once I’ve done that you can put me in an oven once again…just play along with me for a little while. Please?”

Ace floundered a little, those golden eyes for once looked honest, desperate, lonely. He felt like he was loosing his edge, he sent a glance to the hallway where his siblings listened. From the sight he could tell Deuce wasn’t signaling anything in particular, (Y/n) was no different. Their face was stuffed into his twin’s side, once again hiding from the after math bound to come.

It was up to him once again.

Just like it was his job to shove the witch into the oven. 

It was his decision and the witch’s fate.

______________________________________________________________

Trey adored the sunrise. It brought such excitement that the day was starting once again. He also adored waking to an empty bed because it meant that the most beautiful part of his day was to come.

The sounds of small pairs of feet padding against the creaking wood coming already brought a smile to his face. The hushed arguments and demands to ‘shhh’ made Trey pretend to be asleep as he felt the side of the bed dip from multiple angles. Feeling the little hands that opened his arms to curl into his sides and the smaller weight plopping on his stomach. It made Trey irrevocably happy.

“Daddy, are you awake yet?”

It was Deuce. Polite as always. Trey loved that about him.

“Dad’s not awake. If he was awake he would have stopped me from picking my nose just now.”

The other children laughed to themselves. 

That was Ace. Ever the mischievous trickster and the unexpected leader of his siblings. Trey loved him despite his flaws and was more than willing to deal with anyone who’d bother to complain.

There were no words from his third child. His baby. Just the light plat of their hands against his cheeks, eventually becoming curious tugs at his lashes. After successfully lifting one of his lids to see his golden orbs alert and moving, Trey figured the jig was up. 

Closing his arms in he trapped all of his children and held them tight. Perfectly able to deliver a number of kisses on their little heads. Unbothered by the joyful squirming and their protests Trey made sure every one of his children got a barrage of kisses and ‘I love you’s before they were released. He held onto (Y/n) easily cradling them to blow raspberries into their tummy. He already knew they’d need a nap from waking so early.

“Papa wanted us to tell you he’s back from hunting.”

The message Deuce delivered reminded Trey of the concept of hunger. He didn’t feel it much anymore but he was sure his children did. And they couldn’t possibly handle a whole human at their age, so he better get breakfast ready.

“Thank you Deuce.”

Ace jumped up, hopping up and down on the bed emphasizing his words with every jump.

“I–wanna–hunt–!”

Trey reached over to drag him from the edge, saving the kid a world of hurt. 

“Not until you’re older and it’ll probably be different then what your Papa does.”

“But Papa’s taken us hunting before a long long long time ago…at least I think he did."

Deuce innocently chimed tickling (Y/n)’s feet, unknowingly making Trey’s heart heavy. Trey kept a smile on his face as Ace joined Deuce, making (Y/n) let out more silent laughter.

“Oh yeah I think he did  but we were real little I don’t even think (Y/n) was around then!”

“Yeah…Dad were you with us then?”

The eyes turning to Trey put him on the spot, his heart skipping a beat before he answered.

“Of course I was. I’ve always been here.”

Deuce smiled, “That’s what I thought. I don’t think I can remember anything without you Dad!”

Trey quietly mumbled to himself,”A time without me….”

The witch thought about the mother he’d seen in the market place and the infant she paraded around. A babbling baby that only knew to cry out to her in times of stress. Trey never got to experience that. Looking down at (Y/n) who was released from the barrage of tickling to just stay cradled in their father’s arm. Trey smiled to himself.

“My baby!”

Bending down to kiss their forehead, he relished in the incomplete smiling back at him. He did the same to the twins on each side. Trey’s grateful for the magic that let him keep this family and he was grateful it would let him get back all the times he’s missed with his dear family. 

“My babies! Come let’s get started on breakfast! Who’s hungry?”

“Me!”

“Me!”

(Y/n) raised their hand, fighting to bring their hand as high as theirs. An impossible feat at their age but with a bit of magic maybe that won’t be the case next time. 

“My perfect little family and it’s all mine.”

[grumpyghostdoodles]

Part one - Part Two(You are Here)

[kogetaikid]

TW!!!! CHILD DEATH/UTY PACIFIST SPOILERS

I’m never getting over this

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

💚anon

[Livestream (177)]

Comment: Rip peanut 🥜🦔 fly high 😇 🪦 🕯️

Sakura: Peanut...

Comment: Who's peanut?

Sakura: My firstborn child. My first hedgehog.

Comment: Wait, Odi wasn't your first? And what happened?

Sakura, grabs a tissue: Yes, Odi isn't my first. And uh, trigger warning...

Sakura: A few years ago I was making some salad dressing in the kitchen with Peanut, letting her roam around in the counter. I spilled a bottle of vinegar, so I left to get a towel and when I came back, she was drinking it. I didn't think anything of it so I let her clean it up. All of a sudden she starts acting really weird. She's normally full of energy but she was just sitting still. My brother walked in to try to figure out what was wrong. Then we hear a fizzling noise coming from inside Peanut and she started expanding. She let out a final chirp, or whatever sound hedgehogs make, and she bursted. Bubbles and blood went everywhere. Vil ran to get out dad and he cleaned it up. I went to look in the pantry and apparently she got into the baking soda and ate a bunch of it.

Comments: ....

Comments: SHE EXPLODED???

Sakura: 🥲

Vil_Schoenheit_Offical: It was very traumatic. Epel_of_your_eye: WHAT THE FUCK!? Baker_boy: I hope you know Riddle fainted hearing that story.

[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.

[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!