Fool's Rambling #55: Dorm Shipping

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.

❗AVOID THESE PEDOPHILES AT ALL COSTS! ❗

I was scrolling through Tumblr and came across a post of KNOWN PEDOPHILES ON TUMBLR (many of which have or want to rape actual children/minors)

THERE ARE ACTUAL PEDOPHILES ON TUMBLR TRYING TO GET IN TOUCH WITH MINORS ON TUMBLR

PLEASE SIGNAL BOOST THIS LIST AND KEEP OUR MINORS SAFE

TWST D&D Character Sheets!

Feel free to use them! They started off as a silly project but I got hooked and finished all 7! They’re great for a TWST campaign, or even just to grab for a character that you think would be in that dorm

I only ask you don’t repost them, edit them (aside from adding character/OC information ofc), or crop out my signature

Jesus, it just got sadder after ADecue

I'm curious about the first years' reaction to why can't I be your spouse.

I think it'd be hilarious

part one/part 2

A ha yes, hilarious. I am so sorry.

"Why couldn't I be your spouse?"

Ace is struck mute. The blush starts at the tips of his ears, spreads across his face, and down across his neck. Because you don't want him. That's the reason right? He's your best friend. You're his. That's your dynamic. It keeps you both safe from any complications or unnecessary feelings but god if you're just going to look up at him and bat your eyes trying to hold back tears at the thought of not being his? "Jeez, we're still in school you know? Ask again later." You won't get a chance to do that, Ace wants to be the one to ask. You deserve that much from him with how much he teases you, or so he says.

There are two ways I can see this question going with Deuce. He's oblivious to the nature of his own feelings: "Because you are meant to get married to someone you love?" He's overwhelmed with distress when you start to cry at his words, but he doesn't understand the source of the pain. Love is a heavy word, and sure he does love you, your best buds! But marriage is extremely serious and sure he's had dreams about you guys living together and stuff like that but he's sure that's just a friendship thing. Not that he ever dreams about doing that with Ace...

If he does know he's in love with you that little question will make Deuce start panicking because of how expensive weddings are. He will be very happy for you to be his spouse, just give him some time please <3

"Because you're not staying." Jack has accepted you are the one he's been waiting for, but he's never verbalized it until now. He's a bit disappointed if he's honest, not with who you are but with the circumstances under which you've met. He modeled his dreams of what his spouse would be like off of his parents and grandparents, he would love you and you would love him. You would be together forever and build a little life together. But you are from a different world and will have to go home some day, he doesn't get to keep you and he doesn't have the option of getting over you. His only option is to deny that he wants you as his spouse until his soul prevents him from doing it anymore, no matter how happy hearing you ask to be his make him feel.

Epel is happy to hear you say that, but it's a bittersweet happiness. Epel wants you to be saying that because you think he's cool. Because you think of him as a manly man who you can rely on to provide for you and keep you safe from all of the monsters you've faced so far. But he knows you pretty well at this point, he doesn't think that you rely on him because you think he's cool. Maybe that's a goods thing though, you've never been judgemental of who he is even if the words you use to describe him aren't the exact ones he wants just yet. That doesn't mean "spouse" isn't how he wants to describe you, and he's not shy of letting you know that. Just this once.

Sebek doesn't answer at first. He doesn't yell either, nor does there appear to be a gathering storm on his face. He looks despondent, not the look you would want on the face of someone when you start talking about getting married. "Because I have treated you in a truly abominable manner most unfitting of my rank based on a prejudiced view of your character." Anyone who looks at him can see that he's in love, that he has no objection to you being his spouse. But he can't have that, he's unworthy. Not that you wants you to take this personally, he is used to being inadequate. Just let him savor the happiness he felt from hearing you say you wanted to be his in the first place. It is more than he deserves for how cruel he has been to you.

Malleus: I have very high standards. I only fall in love with graceful-

Me: *stumbles into the room, knocking over some books, startling Grim, and landing flat on their face*

Malleus: …

Malleus: I want that one.

twst first-years that die during malleus' overblot because they're the youngest, and not at all accustomed to having that much magic attacking their systems.

twst first-years that go on to haunt their upperclassmen from then on, always ragging on them for not trying hard enough to protect them like they were supposed to.

twst first-years, who the other nrc students aren't entirely sure are actually their ghosts or a lingering hint of malleus's dream magic or just a product of their broken psyches.

[ID: Screenshot of a AO3 tag. It reads: “weird and ominous sex scene” /End ID]

Go girl, give us nothing