#the world preparing itself for the peaceful slumber

[mossgh0st]

As If It’s Heaven’s Gate (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Summary | Levi is caught in a dark place following the battle of heaven and earth. Believing he’s undeserving of life’s sweetness, he deprives himself until you show up on his doorstep. Inspired by and based on Too Sweet by Hozier.

Content | Angst, Fluff. Sort of slow burn? No use of y/n. Levi is a grump, reader is shorter than him. Brief mentions of off-screen sex. Italics are song lyrics that each section is inspired by.

Pairings | Levi/Reader. Mentions of Jean/Pieck.

Notes | As soon as I heard Too Sweet, I knew I needed to write about Levi. Header is from ‘kii on Pinterest. Hope you enjoy!

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It can’t be said I’m an early bird, it’s 10 o’clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?

After the war, Levi becomes a creature of the night. His meticulous bedtime routine and eves of deep, restful slumber have become wrought with nightmares, teeming with the faces of everyone he’s ever loved having succumbed to their bitter ends. He’s forgone the tea, a relic of a previous era; he now prefers an amber liquid that stings on the way down. A balm that numbs, heavy bottomed glass filled only a quarter of the way. When he ventures beyond the confines of his home, he asks for the tippy top of the top shelf - Levi always takes his whiskey neat.

You know you don’t gotta pretend. Baby, now and then, don’t you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake, smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

Some days, he’s lucky if he retires before the sunrise peeks over the hills and pulls itself up to the high point of the sky. Letters go unanswered, bookshelves less sparse as he fills the majority of his time with thick, leather-bound tomes. The newspaper has becomes the perfect kindling, headlines boasting peace negotiations melt and turn runny with the heat of the blaze. When Levi wakes each hazy afternoon, it’s with the lingering scent of bonfire strung about the atmosphere. His once grey eyes have turned deep, a color so sharpened it resembles the water on a lake just before the claps of thunder rumble and bring down swells of rain.

But while in this world, I think I’ll take my whiskey neat. My coffee black and my bed at three.

He knows he won’t live forever. He’s not at all interested. At this point, he’s pleading for the same sweet release from the world he afforded Erwin. Levi has spent so much time dwelling in the night, the darkness is threatening to become him. Then, you show up, one damp afternoon. Modest sundress, two small bags, a green ribbon tying back your hair. The glow you emanate is too much for him. He wants to be angry, filled with a rage so intense it convinces you to leave running in the midst of the spring storm, ribbon flying behind you. The pit in his stomach solidifies when he can’t bring himself to be irate, softened by the cold flush of your cheeks and the sheepishness of your smile as you stand, delicate in his doorway.

You’re too sweet for me, you’re too sweet for me.

At first, your presence does nothing to alter his routine. You rise with the sun, the first blinks of morning are spent brewing a sweet coffee in his kitchen, silent save the chattering of the birds. The dregs of his previous evening’s fire catching in the wind and mingling with the scent of bitter coffee grounds. Levi rises long after the sun has hit it’s peak, emerging in loose slacks and a half undone shirt, the sleeves rolled. You cross paths only briefly, while he pours his glass of amber whiskey and you prepare your cup of evening tea. A silent understanding has occurred - you can stay, if you don’t intervene. So you read in the overgrown garden, take your coffee with milk and two sugars, visit the bookstore, the seamstress down the block from the town’s main square, and worry about him only when you are tipping over the ledge into sleep.

But who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate.

The first change is subtle: tea leaves are disappearing faster than you’re brewing them; you know he’s dipping into the store after you retire each evening. Then, when the usual night terrors creep up again, plaguing your mind and leaving your lungs in a vice grip, the second change occurs. Levi waking and comforting you after a string of particularly violent dreams, a different sort of understanding passes when he murmurs, “I still see them, too.” You find him in your bed then, most mornings. Your routines still separate, bodies occupying different halves of the day for weeks. Coffee, bookstore, seamstress, reading, garden. It continues on, life in your solitary bubbles, except the brief overlapping in the early morning when your breaths mingle in the same space between your sleeping forms.

I wish that I could go along, babe, don't get me wrong.

The paradigm shifts once more when he begins to rouse the same time as you. A brief wave of shame washes over you as you realize he’s already awake, you cannot observe his closed eyes and smoothed forehead, the lines of his face set in peace, the soft parting of his lips, or the slow rise of his chest beneath the thin blankets. That morning, you show him how to make the coffee, and he grumbles after burning the first pot, squinting in the bright light. He notices you smiling out of the corner of his eye and something rattles around in his chest. You add three sugars to your cup. He accompanies you to both the bookstore and the seamstress, his silent presence a new comfort. Levi wants to ask why you chose him, chose his home, when there are happier and more accommodating friends, current or former members of the 104th. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’d be better off with someone like Mikasa, in her quiet cottage by the sea. Even Jean and Pieck, or hell, Reiner and his family.

You're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain.

Within a few months, Levi’s world has changed. It’s brighter, fuzzy around the edges. There’s a few sundresses in the closet of his room, a growing stack of books on his dresser. A knit shawl is draped over the chair in the living room; and the guest bed hasn’t been used in several weeks. He lets her brew the coffee in the morning, his palate now well suited for the taste, and takes chrysanthemum tea in the evenings. The garden has a bench now, front row to the beds of geranium, lavender, and snapdragon. When you smile at him through the kitchen window, an understanding dawns on him, an awakening blooms inside of him. He’s seen this look before, many times; over a shared water jug during an expedition, sleepy and exhausted over a fire surrounded by their comrades, during meetings with military leadership, after the battle of heaven and earth, and on the day you were assigned to his squad. You would never go to Mikasa’s, or to Jean and Pieck, even Reiner, or anyone else. He would never let you.

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape.

The first touch of morning is chill, a breeze dancing its way through the open window, sheet gathered at his waist as Levi rouses from sleep. He hears your hums from the kitchen and swings his feet over the bed. He’s drawn to you like bees are to flowers, cloying aroma and sunlight and all things good. Forgoing the tie of his robe, he begins purposeful strides down the hall. Then, you’re there, back turned and hair down. The hem of your pale nightgown sways as you wait for the pour of coffee, glowing in the sunrise, hands over your upper arms to stave off the late summer air. You’re lost in a daydream. Levi comes to stand behind you, listening to the melody you hum quietly. The deprecating, nagging voice he contends with daily in his mind is quieted - it’s just you now; always you.

If you could sit in a barrel, maybe I’d wait.

It’s quiet when he slides an arm around your waist, body warm and flushed. It’s quiet when you turn in his hold, meeting his grey gaze with lingering surprise and pink cheeks. It’s quiet as he pulls you in closer still, hands coming up to rest on his chest. Quiet, as Levi brushes his forehead against yours, eyes closed, fingers flexing in their hold of you. Completely silent, as he tilts your chin up, up, up, and brushes his lips with yours. The taste of you nothing like he had ever dreamed, and oh, had he dreamed. When you push up onto your toes to deepen the pressure, sigh into his mouth, his black bitter heart nearly bursts through his chest.

Until that day…

And when he takes you shortly after, coffee long forgotten, limbs so tangled it’s near impossible to discern where you end and Levi begins, lips parted and dewy with sweat and each other; he can only think of the sweetness this life has afforded him in you, how the bitterness of his past has made way for this belonging.. well. There’s truly no such thing as too sweet, is there?

#levi aot #captain levi #levi heichou #levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi x you #levi ackerman #levi x y/n #levi fanfiction #levi blurb #levi oneshot #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi Ackerman oneshot #aot oneshots #attack on titan oneshot #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #user!moss writes

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Unrivaled Beauty.

O’ Beautiful Queen, your loveliness is eternal and unchallenged.

Steal center stage, and the hearts of those who gaze upon you.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

War is as much of an art as it is a brazen display of brutality.

For Vil, every performance he gives is war. His weapons: skill, grace, beauty. All of it meant to charm the audience. No substitutions, it no stunt doubles.

Today is no different.

He kneels in the snow atop a corpse. Not a real dead man, but a dummy with an eerie amount of detail. It had been prepared by experts in the prop department, made to resemble his character's sworn enemy in the film.

Crimson blooms upon white robes marked with ancient runes. The collar and neckline are daring, plunging to reveal a generous amount of the bare skin of the chest to the elements. The hair, a tangled mess of glossy raven waves, sticking from the moisture to cold skin. The skin, pale blue with frost, the eyes cloudy orbs.

The mouth, stained red with the blood of countless innocents, no longer moves.

In this scene, the she-devil Snow White is dead, and he, heir to the Witch Queen, has slain her.

Without hesitation, he plunges his bare hand into the dummy’s chest, fishing out a model heart. It is covered in a mixture of corn syrup, food coloring, cocoa powder, and starch to simulate bodily fluids. The thickened liquid dribbles down his own pale hands, staining them.

Lifting his trophy into the air, a joyous, defiant sparkle in his eyes. A throaty cry erupts from him.

“With this, the Eternal Snow will be no more, and peace shall return to my realm!!”

Vil’s explosive laughter fills the mountain. The snow shakes, the land itself shudders in his presence.

He has won.

Finally, finally, finally.

A gruff man’s voice reaches him.

“CUT!!”

In an instant, the scene falls apart and reality sets in.

Cameramen tend to their equipment, prop managers and stylists exchange whispers. Special effects mages tamp down their snow spells. The illusion is stripped away, revealing a balmy day set against a backdrop of mountains.

Staff in scurry in, offering Vil towelettes and lotion to clean and moisturize his hands. He accepts them, then waves the staff off, one ferrying the fake heart.

“Bravo, Vil-kun, bravo!!” the director gushes. “I knew it was the right call to cast you as the hero for this film. There wasn’t a flaw in your acting, m’boy!!”

“Thank you, sir.” Vil bows to the older man, keeping his reply short and simple. “It is an honor to be a part of your masterfully written story."

It is the tale of a beautiful demon locked away in a glass coffin, freed from slumber and set upon the world to shroud it in never-ending winter… The tale of a selfless noble and her huntsmen that stands in opposition to her and her seven sniveling imp minions. A tale of two fates intertwining—the noble whose bloodline sealed the demon away, and the demon who vowed revenge on descendent of the Witch Queen.

Vil's eyes cannot stop themselves from sliding over to his co-star, who waits in the wings. His lifelong rival, Neige LeBlanche.

He is dressed similarly to the dummy that had been swapped in for his corpse. Red ruins his pristine white gown, and his hair is wild—but off-camera, Neige lacks the madness of the villain he plays. Neige smiles sweetly at the staff, giggles like an innocent schoolboy.

Vil fails to look away before Neige meets his eyes. He waves shyly, and, out of courtesy, Vil returns it.

“You've all been working very hard to bring my vision to life," the director happily booms. "Let's take a 30-minute break. Hydrate, grab some food, whatever. Actors, hair and makeup retouches before stepping back on set!"

There is a collective murmur of approval, feet shuffling for the refreshments table. A staff member offers Vil a spot in the donut line, but he politely declines.

"No thank you, I've prepared granola and a light fruit yogurt ahead of time. If you'll excuse me."

He peels away and heads for his trailer. Once Vil is shut away—a well-trained peacock stepping into his gilded cage—he produces his phone and reviews his jam-packed schedule: the film shoot, an interview with a popular variety show, modeling for a magazine cover, practicing for a stage play…

He, cast in the spotlight of hero in every single one.

You are the fairest of them all, Mira would robotically recite. All the social media websites and news outlets were talking nonstop about him, and he knows it.

It's the Age of Vil, his manager would joke. Isn't this great? You're demonstrating your range. This will definitely net you bigger and bigger opportunities in the future!

They’re finally recognizing you for your cuteness and goodness, his father would tell him. That’s my son! I knew everyone would come around eventually.

On any other day, he might have scoffed or dismissed their comments. Today, he simply smirks, silently pocketing his phone.

Vil passes a large vanity on his way to the mini-fridge. A glimpse of his reflection reveals the elaborate jewel-toned ensemble he is fitted for, the makeup that highlights the highest points of his face. Shining, commanding attention—just as any protagonist would.

He stands straighter, holds his chest higher. Proudly flaunting his feathers, his numerous accomplishments.

I've worked myself to the bone to reach this point. I've earned every little bit of this.

Retrieving his snacks, Vil makes to join the crew on their break. Even if Neige will be present as well, he grimaces.

A shadow invades his periphery.

Vil pauses at the doorway and looks back.

There, sitting on his vanity, was a bushel of roses the color of midnight. A black envelope embellished with gold accents is tucked among the petals.

His brows knit together. How odd--he is certain he hadn't seen that a second ago, nor had he heard anyone entering to drop it off while he was briefly at the fridge. How could he have missed such an obvious gift?

"Perhaps it's from the director or producer," he muses, plucking the envelope free and opening it.

Inside, there is, as suspected, a letter.

Same black paper, same gold embellishments.

To Schoenheit,

Please accept this humble offering from myself. It was a joy to watch you perform to your heart's content.

I was very moved by the experience. It is not often that I get to observe Man in all of its peaks and crests in such a short span of time.

I will continue to watch over you and support your dreams from the sidelines.

Sincerely,

M. D.

Initials in the place of a name? Vil turns the paper over, expecting more on the other side. It's unlike his fans to leave out their full identity. (Half of the time, they include a list of their social media handles and beg for a follow back.)

But alas, the back is blank and yields no answers.

He frowns, facing the words scrawled on the front of the square again. The cogs in his head turn, arriving at a single logical conclusion.

I only know of one possible M.D., but... Is he truly the type to send notes of this nature?

Vil toys with the idea in his head, just as he toys with the letter between his fingers. Ego rises and colors his lenses.

"Fufufu, it seems that even great mages such as he are not immune to my beauty and talent." Vil chuckles, exiting the trailer. His adoring fans await.

He's right about everything, and he doesn't realize how wrong he wants to be.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Vil Schoenheit #Neige LeBlanche #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst countdown #twisted wonderland countdown #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #I've been dreaming... #book 5 spoilers #twst anni #twisted wonderland anni #twst anniversary #twisted wonderland anniversary

[lvllylix]

imagine reader comes home from work and feels so tired and exhausted but felix and chan are there to comfort them, then reader falls asleep on them and chan carries them to bed with felix following behind and then they all cuddle😪😪

A Haven of Comfort

Title: A Haven of Comfort

Song: You Are The Reason by Calum Scott

Pairing: Chan x reader x Felix

Word count: 896

Warnings: fluff, comfort

Summary: After a long and tiring day at work, you come home to the loving embrace of Chan and Felix. Together, they create a haven of comfort, allowing you to find solace and rest in their arms.

--

The front door creaked open, announcing your return home after a particularly grueling day at work. Fatigue weighed heavy on your shoulders, and every step felt like a chore. All you wanted was to sink into the soothing comforts of your home.

As you stepped inside, you were greeted by the familiar warmth and coziness of your shared apartment. Soft lighting cast a gentle glow across the room, and the soothing aroma of dinner being prepared wafted from the kitchen.

Your heart fluttered as you spotted Chan and Felix, your boyfriends, standing by the kitchen counter, their faces breaking into smiles as they noticed your arrival. The sight of their familiar faces provided an instant balm to your tired soul.

"Hey there, tired traveler," Chan's voice was a gentle melody as he approached, his arms open for an embrace.

You let out a soft chuckle, letting Chan wrap you in his comforting hug. His warmth seeped into your weary bones, and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to soak in the affection.

Felix joined in, his laughter mixing with Chan's. "Rough day at work, huh?"

You nodded, your voice a mere whisper. "Yeah, you could say that."

Felix reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tender touch. "Well, you're home now, and we're here to make it better."

Chan's voice held a hint of mischief. "We even cooked your favorite dinner."

Their combined efforts to make you feel cherished tugged at your heartstrings, and you couldn't help the small smile that graced your lips. "You guys are too good to me."

Felix grinned, his eyes sparkling with adoration. "Only because you deserve it."

Dinner was a comforting affair, filled with laughter, shared stories, and stolen glances that spoke volumes. As the meal concluded, you leaned back, your exhaustion making itself known once again.

"I think I might just fall asleep right here," you mumbled, a yawn escaping your lips.

Chan chuckled, his fingers tracing circles on your hand. "Why don't we move this party to the couch? You can relax, and we'll take care of everything."

The mere thought of sinking into the plush cushions sounded heavenly. You nodded in agreement, allowing Chan and Felix to guide you to the living room. The soft cushions embraced you, and you let out a content sigh.

Chan and Felix settled on either side of you, their presence a soothing balm to your weary heart. Felix draped a cozy blanket over you, tucking it in with gentle care.

"You just relax, okay?" Chan's voice was a soothing whisper as he pressed a tender kiss to your temple.

You nodded, letting your eyes drift shut as their fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm. The combined comfort of their touch and the warmth of their bodies enveloped you in a cocoon of solace.

Time seemed to blur as you rested, the world outside fading into the background. The soft cadence of their voices, the occasional brush of their fingers against your skin – it all merged into a symphony of love and tenderness.

Eventually, your tiredness overtook you, and you felt yourself slipping into a peaceful slumber, nestled between Chan and Felix. The sensation of being cared for and cherished was a lullaby that carried you into dreams.

When you stirred awake, you found yourself in a different setting – your bedroom. Soft moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a serene glow across the room. Chan and Felix were there, watching you with gentle smiles.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," Felix's voice was a hushed whisper, his eyes warm and filled with affection.

Chan's fingers brushed against your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "Feeling better, love?"

You nodded, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Much better, thanks to you both."

Felix leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. "We're always here for you."

Chan's voice was a comforting murmur as he scooped you up in his arms, his strength making you feel safe and cherished. "Let's get you under the covers, shall we?"

He gently placed you on the bed, tucking you in with a loving touch. Felix settled in on your other side, the three of you forming a close-knit circle of warmth and affection.

As you nestled between them, the weight of your exhaustion seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of contentment you hadn't felt in a long time. Their arms wrapped around you, creating a haven of comfort and love that you had been yearning for.

"You're our everything, Y/N," Chan whispered, his voice filled with sincerity.

Felix nodded in agreement, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your arm. "You're the heart of our home."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of their words. "I love you both."

Chan pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead. "And we love you."

As you closed your eyes, enveloped in their warmth and love, you realized that the exhaustion you had felt earlier had transformed into a profound sense of peace. In the embrace of Chan and Felix, you found solace, comfort, and a love that would carry you through any storm.

And so, surrounded by the gentle embrace of the night, the three of you drifted into a peaceful sleep, hearts intertwined and dreams intertwined, a testament to the unbreakable bond you shared.

#chan x reader #bang chan x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #stray kids #skz blurb #skz fluff #skz #skz angst #skz comfort #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #kpop fic #kpop fluff #straykids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagine #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung

[xeruthana]

All Things End

(CW: Death, Mourning, Loss, Grief)

A doll that can feel its time coming. After living for so long, and living so brightly, it can feel the magics in its core begin to weaken. The doll is dying.

The doll goes to its witch to discuss the best way to proceed. The witch is unfazed; she tells her doll that death for one like it is avoidable--all that must be done is transplanting a new core into its body. For the doll, it will be like falling into a deep slumber, but it will awaken feeling brand new.

Much to the witch's surprise, the doll frowns. It shakes its head multiple times as the witch explains the process, before finally placing a delicate porcelain finger to the witch's lips. Then, the doll speaks.

"Miss, you know this one loves you more than anything. It would, and has, done anything and everything to make you happy. And doing so has made it happy in return. But... all good things... all living things... must eventually reach an end. Even beings like itself. Even beings like you, one day. For this one, that day is coming fast. This one has lived freely all its life. Without pain, without regrets. Only knowing the bliss of purpose and the love of one as radiant as you. Miss, allow this one to have one selfish request. It wants to go the way it lived: without regrets, surrounded by the ones who know it and love it. This one is asking for your permission to die, Miss. Will you grant its request?"

The witch is stunned into silence. The world around her goes dark; she can't seem to hear anything beyond the rushing of blood through her body. Ambrosia, her first doll. The one she has loved more than anything else in the world. The one who has always done what needs to be done, without difficulty or complaint, and never asked for anything beyond love in return... wants to die? To leave behind everything they had made together? She couldn't understand that feeling. But as she sits with her thoughts and looks her precious doll in the eyes, she realizes something. She doesn't need to. Right now, all she needs to do... is grant her beloved's wish. And so, after what seems like an eternity of silence, the witch agrees. She will not only allow Ambrosia to pass on, but help it along the way.

Later that day, the witch and all of her dolls have gathered together. The whole group needs to be here for an event like this; none of them want to miss a moment. And so they all form a magic circle, with Ambrosia in the center. There is no chanting this time. No magic words that need to be said; no foci need to be used. After all, they won't be casting magic today--they're dispelling what remains of it. And so, surrounded by its family, Ambrosia takes a deep breath and prepares itself. Then, one at a time, each doll breaks its part in the circle and steps up to their big sister. Each doll gives Ambrosia words of encouragement, love, and a gentle kiss on the forehead before leaving the room. With each kiss, Ambrosia can feel the magic in its core grow weaker. Its limbs grow stiff and heavy, and its eyes seem to droop more and more.

At last, only its witch remains. Just her and it, like old times. The witch steps toward her first doll, her beloved one, and holds it tight. Tighter than she thought she could hold anything. No words pass between them, for they both understand how the other feels. In this moment, their minds are as one. When the witch is ready, she breaks away from the embrace, looks Ambrosia in the eyes, and plants a gentle kiss on its forehead like the others before her.

That was it. The last of the magics gone, Ambrosia's eyes darken. It smiles serenely, looking more at peace than it ever has, before closing its eyes for the final time. The burial will be held that night.

The witch and her remaining dolls gather in the backyard of the house. They decided to bury Ambrosia's body under its favorite tree (an old, old pomegranate tree that is still standing, but no longer bears any fruit). The hole was dug, and it was buried among the tree's root system. As for the headstone, well... its siblings came together to make it out of their favorite materials. And so a massive intricate headstone constructed of pipe cleaners, yarn and buttons was placed. The witch puts an enchantment on the headstone, so that it can actually stand the test of time, and... the burial is complete. The dolls remain to mourn and talk amongst themselves, and their witch returns to her chambers to sleep for the night. It has been a long, long day.

The next morning, as the witch is going outside to check on Ambrosia's grave, she is stopped by some of her dolls. They're all trying to tell her something, all at the same time. She has no idea what they're trying to say. Something miraculous has happened, and that's all she knows.

She heads out to the grave, and... the tree. The pomegranate tree, dead and barren for 3 generations of witches, was now positively bursting with fruit. It made no sense, to the witch or to her dolls. So, naturally, the witch picks a fruit. She looks it over carefully, searching for any possible traces of dark magic. When she finds none, she decides to split open the pomegranate. The seeds inside shimmer with a beautiful symphony of color, colors the witch didn't even know existed. Mesmerized, the witch removes a single seed, and pops it in her mouth.

The seed explodes with flavor. An overwhelming sweetness takes over the witch's senses, and then... she's somewhere else. She's *someone* else. She's... Ambrosia. She would recognize these dainty, cracked fingers anywhere. Suddenly, she feels a warm, gentle caress, and she's staring herself in the face. This is Ambrosia's memory. One of them, anyway. A warm, intimate memory of the time it and the witch shared together. The witch in the memory smiles, her hand still caressing Ambrosia's cheek. And then the witch is back to the present. Back to the real world, in her own body.

Okay. No need to freak out. The little lingering magic left in Ambrosia's body must have somehow... mixed with the roots of the tree. And now it had fruit. Fruit in which, presumedly, each seed contained one of Ambrosia's memories. The witch wasn't sure what to make of this, what to do about this; so she told the dolls. Each of them seemed deep in thought. Then they all seemed to come to the same conclusion: this must be a final gift, for witch and doll alike. A final farewell from big sister. Ambrosia had always, always wanted to share its happiness with the world, and with its family... now, it was doing exactly that. Even from the great dollhole in the sky, it still found a way to be there for its family.

And so, the next night, witch and doll came together again, for one final dedicated ceremony to Ambrosia: a feast. The pomegranates were harvested from the tree, their seeds removed and prepared. Each member of the family would take turns. One would eat a seed, relive a memory, and tell the others what they had seen. A slumber party among dolls. A tea party with its witch (and plushies). The first time it said "I love you." With each memory lived, each seed consumed... the family understood their beloved lost one a little more. Felt a little more connected. Finally, all the seeds were gone. The essence of Ambrosia's life, all her experiences, divided among the ones she loved most. The whole family found itself in tears, remembering the best of them. Now, she would never be forgotten.

#empty spaces #dolls #writing #xeruthana #witches #tw death

[thornnii]

⎯ ✦ morganite & red jasper

genre: fluff wordcount: 1.0K pairing: Audrey Rose x fem!reader pronouns: she/her other: Y/N is daughter to the Queen of Hearts (mainly for the colour palette), takes place after D3, reader is described as wearing a lot of jewellery/accessories, reader wears gold jewellery, established relationship, they live together warnings: one swear word, implication of arguing with parents summary: there is a little surprise for Audrey and Y/N when they reveal their one year anniversary gifts to each other thorn's notes: originally posted 30/Sep/2022; edited from original. I am so sorry that it has taken me so long to actually start reposting, exams have had me in a chokehold recently.

⏤ return to old posts masterlist

Y/N of Hearts is known all around - both on the Isle and on Auradon - for her fierce temper, and with her heritage it would be more concerning if she didn't have any sort of temper. It wasn't uncommon for her to blow up over the smallest of things, hell she'd even gone up against some of the teachers before and almost against the King himself. There was only one person in the entire world Y/N would never yell at, her girlfriend: Audrey Rose.

The day the barrier had come down and willing villains and VKs were able to pass through was the best day of Y/N's life, finally able to escape from her mother's wrath - something which was always stronger when battling against her own.

When Y/N and Audrey had first met they had both been standoff-ish towards the other but Y/N had quickly grown a soft spot for the preppy, pink princess. The way she never stood for Y/N's bullshit and would always tell her so. The way she was willing to patch Y/N up after a fight. The way she never grew upset or angry at Y/N for little things. The way she actually cared.

And thus a most unlikely friendship formed, a friendship that blossomed into a loving relationship.

Speaking of relationships, it was a week before Y/N and Audrey's one year anniversary and Audrey had brought Evie and Dizzy along with her to the mall to look for gift options and provide Audrey with second opinions. Audrey felt sure jewellery was a safe option; Y/N tended to wear a multitude of accessories at any one time, somehow always making it work without looking too much.

Walking into a jewellery store, Audrey broke away from the other two to look around at what the store had to offer. This store was different to any of the others the girls had been in so far today, almost all the jewellery displayed had some sort of crystal element incorporated into the design.

It was a collection of rings that caught Audrey's eye, specifically one towards the middle of the display case. All the rings were made up of a thin gold that wove itself delicately around different crystals. The one that Audrey had noticed was a crimson red stone labelled 'Red Jasper'.

Audrey called Evie and Dizzy over to where she stood - both of them agreeing the ring was the perfect present for Y/N. Next Audrey waved over a sales employee, asking about price and whether the ring could be wrapped to be bought as a gift.

Five minutes later the three girls were leaving the mall, Audrey carrying her purchase in a small paper bag.

Finally it was the day of Audrey and Y/N's anniversary. Y/N woke up first - deciding to leave her girlfriend in her peaceful slumber - and made her way to the kitchen of their shared apartment, preparing to treat Audrey to breakfast in bed. It wasn't fancy by any means, simply scrambled eggs and toast (cooking was not something that was really taught on The Isle).

Y/N plated two lots of the food, balancing the food and a glass of water on a tray and manoeuvred her way back to the bedroom. Audrey was awake now, the lack of warmth that typically radiated off her girlfriend stirring her from her dreamland. She sat at the vanity across from the bed, brushing out any tangles that had formed in her hair during the night.

Y/N pushed the door close with her foot and pressed a kiss to the crown of Audrey's head as she passed to put the breakfast tray down on the end of their queen-sized bed. Walking back over, Y/N pecked a kiss to the same place as previously before her love turned around on the plush, velvet pink ottoman. "Good morning." Audrey greeted, earning a peck on the lips in reply.

"Morning." Y/N returned the greeting with a soft smile. "Happy anniversary lovely, I'm looking forward to later." 'Later' meant the anniversary date the couple had been planning for a while now, both wanting everything to be perfect.

"Happy anniversary to you too gorgeous. I have something for you." Audrey turned back to face the vanity, reaching into one of the side drawers.

"And I for you." Y/N had moved towards the bedside table next to her side of the bed, pulling out a small black box. Y/N was back in position before Audrey; the box the ring she had bought was in had slipped to the back of the drawer, causing the girl to have to grope around a bit to try and find it.

When Audrey turned back around, Y/N was down on one knee, as if proposing, a small black box sat open in her palm to reveal a ring of gold that intricately wrapped around a soft pink gem. It looked almost the same as the one in the box Audrey held.

Rather than answering Y/N's 'proposal' in words, Audrey pulled out the ring box she'd hidden behind her back, popping it open to reveal the scarlet red stone encased in gold. Seeing the likeness of the rings, the two lovers laughed. They had bought rings from the same set without knowing it. Slipping each other's rings on, Audrey inspected her's closely. It wasn't rose quartz from what she could tell, but she wasn't sure what it was instead.

Noticing the puzzlement on her girlfriend's face, Y/N couldn't help but chuckle. Grabbing both of Audrey's hands she explained:

"The crystal is called Morganite. Supposedly it radiates the energy of love, peace and compassion," adding in a quieter tone, "at least that's what the store employee said." Returning to her normal volume, the girl continued, "It melts boundaries to make everything seem possible. I heard that and I thought it suited us, more importantly I thought it suited you."

Y/N's words brought a warm blush to Audrey's face as she buried it in her hands, while Y/N just looked on lovingly at her partner. There was no doubt in her mind that, come what may, she would stay by Audrey's side until the day she died.

#thornnii’s old posts #disney descendants #descendants #descendants x reader #audrey descendants #audrey descendants x reader #audrey rose #audrey rose x reader #x reader #x fem!reader #audrey rose fluff #established relationship #fanfic #fanfiction

[darklcy]

𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 : 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : armin arlert x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.9k words 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: slow burn, takes place in season 1, parental issues, angst, drama, mentions of death, depression, violence, bad language, grief 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: prologue to the series 'altruistic' i am rewriting from a couple years ago. a desperate search results from grief, and the answer seems to be reachable in the world of swords, soldiers, and war. 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

He wasn’t always around.

In the depths of childhood, you find him there, arm caressing the waist of a smiling mother. Always happy, the two of them were. She wept pure salt at the bundle in her hands, a much smaller human asleep and unaware of the world they lived in now. A name tumbles from her lips, and the man begins to cry as well. What a name, to capture two adults into tears as they watched their newborn breathe peacefully, soon to blossom into a child, embarking their first steps into life.

It’s easy to forgive the world when these thoughts pop up. Images of a newly wedded couple and their baby, instead of the mother grieving her husband, waiting for him at the dinner table to write back. 

The gold from the fantasy faded away, replacing the room with a gray, empty house void of that couple and newborn. 

A basket of rolls and two cups of water sat at the table for breakfast, yet your mother hadn’t budged. Instead her eyes fixated on the wooden door, as if she could will him back home herself. The both of you knew she couldn’t.

The roll of bread twirled itself on the pads of your fingers. It’s gone cold now.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

Last night, you dreamed of having three sisters.

You shared a bedroom with the eldest, while the vacant room across the hall occupied the two youngest. The mattress you slept on encaptured you in such a warm slumber, it was hard to realize it wasn’t real. 

..The door swung open abruptly, a stampede of footsteps thundering inside. 

"[Y/n]! Are you awake yet?!"

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

"We'll drag you out of bed again!"

Their names were Thea, Clara, and Maria. 

The living room roared with sunlight, as if the house itself had awakened from hibernation and pranced with the sisters in their excitement. A gourmet of foods laid out on plates for breakfast, a mixture of fragrances wafting throughout. A woman wearing a delicate apron warmly greeted you with affection, a kiss decorating your cheek, then your sisters’. 

“Good morning my loves, and miss Maria.”

Maria was the youngest. The woman swooped her up into her arms and pecked her face with kisses, earning her with sweet giggles. 

She appeared heavenly. Her skin bounced off the sun’s reflection and her smile was so beautiful. She prepared the meal as if performing a dance, a relaxed expression never swaying. It was melancholic to see her this way, as you soon realized you’ve never watched her be this happy. So at peace, no evidence of worry with the lack of stress lines on her smooth face. 

Overlapping chatter broke the trance as the sisters found their respectable seats at the table. They didn’t question you for still standing, instead the meal began without you, a normal conversation taking place amongst themselves. It was disorienting. Was this how life was supposed to go? Were you allowed to take part in this meal? 

“ [Y/n], please sit. Your food’s getting cold.”

..You decided yes, you were.

The rest of the fantasy was carried out in a similar manner. A layered dress now clothed your body, clean and pressed to fit the standard. The others wore garments of their own, the woman looking the most glamorous of all. The heels of her boots clacked against the wood floors, and all you could do was watch as she tied on her poncho, yet again caught in a transfix. 

A hand grabbed hold of your right. It was Thea, the eldest. 

The city had been changed, as well. Signs of wealth and abundance at every corner, showing an exact replica of the inner cities, deep inside royalty grounds. The stalls alongside the sidewalk provided a variety of embellishments. Brand new collections of clothing, rows upon rows of fish and clay pottery laid out , hauling all the way down the street.

A purple bonnet stood out in the sea of clothes. The woman chuckled.

“Do you want it?”

Her gloved hand dug a couple coins from her purse to hand over, the vendor sliding the bonnet towards you. 

“Have a good day!”

She squeezed your shoulder before pursuing down the sidewalk, the sisters finding interests and desires of their own. A surge of heat spread over your cheeks, your lips following it with a grin. You wished to follow them, to be a part of them forever. But the warmth was gone when your feet didn’t move. 

…Brought back to the real world, you opened your eyes to meet the wall of your empty bedroom, no loud siblings to wake you, and no delicious meal awaiting downstairs. 

No other sign of life, except for the sobs that tore the insides of your throat. 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

The hand that gripped yours now wasn’t gloved, nor as loving as Thea’s. The walk through town was vacant and still, a hushed dread hanging over the citizens that dared anyone to speak up. The purple bonnet was nowhere to be found, and not a single vendor was selling clothes today. It was a lucky day if there were any fresh produce on the market. 

A piece of carefully folded parchment in a tight clutch reminded you the reasoning for today's outing. Lugging you down the streets, the brutal reminder that today was Wednesday hung from the cloudy skies. Post office day.

The entrance door loomed over your much smaller stature. Much like the walls that bordered the city, your neck craned up to get a better glance while she removed her hand to enter, her fingers returning to yours after the door shut. At the desk was a man who appeared busy with paperwork, his eyes flitting up to meet yours for just a second. The paper crinkled as she slid it over the desk.

"I'd like to ship this letter to the Survey Corps headquarters, please."

Her voice slightly wavered as she spoke. The man stared at her for a few blank moments before reaching over to grab the envelope.

"The Survey Corps, huh? I'll make sure this travels there safely."

He then smiled, tipping his hat softly. She thanked him with a nod of her own. It was always him working, but with each visit his kindness remained. Perhaps it was the smile that brought reassurance to other families, but she merely sighed and dropped her chin as you exited the building. You two knew better. 

It was dusk by the time you made it back home. The sun had fallen and painted a sunset behind it, a mixture of purple and red mixing with leftover clouds. Nighttime would be here soon, another day ending. She didn’t say it out loud, but the tally marks she imprinted in her mind each night was easy to deduct. Endless counting and waiting, always waiting. But even without her vocalization, the physical manifestation of his prolonged disappearance, you'd already begun counting, as well.

The skin inside your mouth tore away with another bite as another tally mark drew itself. He’d been gone for five hundred thirty-six days. 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

The events of Wall Maria replayed itself in dreams. He’d been recruited just a couple days prior, and though he wore a loud sneer to calm her, you saw through the facade. His hidden terror, his trembling knees that threatened to give way. He was afraid, probably the most afraid you’d ever seen him. 

Once the news reached the town square, the mass destruction that slept just beyond the border, your mother sobbed for days, grieving under the belief he had perished at the hands of beasts. A violent death that promised suffering and blood shed, it was an image so horrid it terrified you. But as mysterious as miracles are, he was still alive, and was granted the opportunity to return. 

It was the happiest you had ever seen her. Tears of joy decorated the floors as she embraced him, one of his arms around her while the other held you. It was so overwhelming to see him again, all you could do was cry. A couple hours was all he promised, before he had to embark on yet another adventure.

As his figure recessed further and further into the city, it dawned upon you that it was easier this way. With him being gone, maybe he could slip into the grass and vanish into thin air, void from existing. If his living toyed with your mother’s emotions so drastically, maybe it’d be better if he didn’t exist at all. 

You missed the couple from your fantasies. The painting of gold, the love in the air that refused to tear away from their grinning faces. Where are they now?

The guilt cracked the vessels of your heart. You should love him. And yet you don’t. 

…

…His letter never made it back to your house. 

The soldier grimaced at your deadpan stare. He’d just retold the passing of your father, a heroic end met on the battlefield, and all you did was watch. You watched her crumble to the floor in screams and hollers. Her hands quivered under the tremendous weight of her sobs. That beautiful woman from your dream had just died in front of you. 

In the arms of your mother, you wept into her shirt. You wept from the guilt that broke you every night, when you longed for a loving family, yearned for sisters to play with, to hold hands with a mother who spoiled you of fresh clothes. He was someone you idolized once, someone you felt safe around. In his final moments, you wondered, did he think of you? 

While he fought, did he remember your face? Did he yearn for freedom, while his love awaited his return? 

You’ll never know. 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

A whole year goes on.

She only becomes worse. Her skin now pale and grimsly, hair unkept and tangled, food untouched. Who is this stranger sitting across from you?

It kept you awake at night, what led up to his departure. He’s all you think of nowadays. The mystery forever unsolved was excruciating, so painful the nails on your fingers itched your skin till it painted red. Whatever the reasoning had been, you wonder if it was worth it. Were there any regrets left behind, any event he wished he could redo? Could you ever find the answer? 

…The search began when she didn’t wake up. 

Lost to mourn forever, her dreams finally took her away. Wherever she is, you hope she’s happy, as a kiss lands on her forehead. 

Somehow in bed, she appeared much more relaxed. She can finally rest. 

Leaving her to sleep, you departed from the house, just like he did the day he left. With a measly dress shirt and skirt on your form, you pretended they were the beautiful clothes from that dream as the military training grounds rounded the corner. 

A crowd formed a line at the entrance. At the head, a towering man with the posture of an elk, commands dripping from his tongue in a holler. Stepping towards the back, you find your place and await your turn. 

Perhaps you could find the answer here.

#altruistic #altruistic story #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot #aot x reader #armin arlert #armin arlert x reader #armin #armin x reader #armin x you #armin x y/n #armin arlert x you #armin arlert x y/n #angst #aot angst #aot armin x reader #attack on titan x reader angst #x reader #armin x reader angst #slow burn

[nynelivesix]

SEVERANCE

Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

CW! Violence

PROLOGUE <-<-

Chapter One ~ Decisions and Desserts

You could feel its lingering presence in the house when you awoke. Hatred, disdain, melancholy. You could almost hold it as it drifted through the air. The breeze that travelled through the corridors of your family home carried the scent of blood. You could taste it on the tip of your tongue. It made your gums sting, tasting bitter and rotten, like a grapefruit forgotten on the tree, left to fall and decay. As the sun peaked over the sullen clouds and the old grandfather clock downstairs chimed ominously, you brushed your fingers against the door that'd been left ajar. The hinges creaked in the cold dawn din, and there in front of you, lying on the bed, were your greatest challenge, your tormentors, your abusers. Your parents were dead.

You sat on the front step of your childhood home, a small bag packed with what little belongings you could call your own sat contently beside you. The sun had pushed itself up from its slumber and shone high above the horizon. You had sat silently at the kitchen table for a few hours, staring down at the home phone in shock. You'd seen plenty of cuts and bruises before, but nothing could have prepared you for what death truly looked like. You had been forbidden from touching the phone, and even now that their lifeless, mangled bodies lay upstairs, you couldn't help but feel a little bit anxious. Finally, summing up the courage, you brushed your fingers against the plastic buttons. Your trance was rudely interrupted by the eerie chime of the doorbell. While a peculiar individual, the man at the door seemed nice enough. He had instructed you to sit outside and wait for him to investigate your home. So you sat, head leaning against the door and legs stretched out down the stairs, the solid canopy above you sheltering you from the incoming heat of the rays of the new day. A gentle pitter-patter came down on the roof above you. The smell of rain and dust made your shoulders relax. You pulled your legs in away from the stairs, the rain coating the tips of your leather boots. A sun shower. You closed your eyes and revelled in the warmth of the sun and the smell of the rain. You felt strangely at peace sitting on the porch of a murder scene.

The door behind you opened, and your body almost fell backwards inside the house. You jolted upright at the movement and sat wide-eyed, looking up at the man above you.

"Hey, hey, sorry, sleepy head", the man laughed gently.

He had perfect white hair that stuck upright in all directions, a black blindfold held it in place.

He kneeled to you, his face a little too close to yours. You flinched back a bit from him, your hand shifting to sit on the wet edge of the deck.

"You have any aunties or uncles?"

You shook your head.

"Grandparents?"

"No sir", you asserted.

"Hmm, well then. I guess you'll have to come with me."

"With all due respect, sir, you randomly showed up at my house, and I don't know you."

He scratched his neck thoughtfully, his skin reddening under his touch.

"Trueeee", he trailed off.

He shifted out of the doorway and closed the door behind him. You felt the wood vibrate gently as he sat down beside you. It was silent for a moment, the world returning to the tranquil, picturesque scene that'd lulled you to sleep in the first place.

"How much do you know?", the man beside you took a bat and brutally smashed apart your serenity.

"Not much, sir. I woke up, and they were dead, and I wasn't", you responded, perhaps a little too coldly.

He faked a shiver as if your words had iced the world over, "Ahh no, not about that. You're a sorcerer, right?"

"You mean like a wizard? No sir, I'm um, I'm..", you paused for a moment to think of how to classify yourself and what you'd been raised to be.

Your mind reverberated behind your eyes, "You are a soldier.", Your thoughts asserted.

"I'm a soldier, that's what I was raised to be anyway", your eyes drifted away from the blindfold on the man's face, and instead, you looked out into the front yard.

"A soldier, huh, in this day and age.. I didn't realise any of them were still alive.", he pondered aloud.

"Sir, who are you?", you returned your gaze up to the man beside you.

He reached a finger up to his blindfold and hooked it underneath the soft fabric dragging it down his face and leaving it to rest around his neck. Long white eyelashes fluttered open, adjusting to the morning light. Staring down at you, with a gentle gaze, were two gorgeous blue eyes. You couldn't help but stare back in quiet awe.

"That's an easy question to answer. I'm a sorcerer. The strongest."

You kicked your leg a little in annoyance, and small droplets of water flew down the toe of your boot. That answer just left you with more questions.

"My turn to ask a question, you've been trained to use cursed energy?", he quirked an eyebrow at you, his eyes bore into yours.

You thought for a moment. Your parents referred to your abilities as cursed energy once or twice, but they usually just referred to it as 'strength' or 'power'. Your father didn't have the ability to do what you could, and your mother never received any sort of training, so her power was lacking compared to yours.

"Yes sir, that's correct."

"So you ARE a sorcerer."

"No sir, I'm a soldier."

"Do you know what sorcerers are?"

"I've read about them. We protect them. Our family has always protected sorcerers."

He chuckled a little, looking out and over the quiet streets of the sparsely populated area you called home. You couldn't help but feel a little dissatisfied with your answer. You'd never actually protected anyone before, let alone the people you were predestined to protect.

"What's your name, kiddo?"

'Kiddo', what a strange term. It snuck a small smile on your face and made the sun's warmth push deeper then just surface level.

"(y/n) (l/n), sir", you spoke firmly but quietly.

"How old are you (y/n)?"

"As of today, I'm eighteen", you spoke as if you knew the man in front of you before scrambling to add on formalities, "Sir."

The man jumped up causing you to clench your fists in surprise, "Well this is no way to spend a birthday", he shook his head as if affirming his own words, "how'd you like to come and live with some sorcerers (y/n)?"

A choice. You'd never really been given one of those before. Certainly nothing this important. You weighed the opportunity despite the little voice in your head jumping around like a frog on cocaine in excitement.

"I suppose that would be okay", you smiled.

The man, who had finally revealed his name to be Satoru Gojo, took your small bag over his shoulder and hurried you into the back seat of a black sedan. He joined you in the back seat, placing the small duffel bag between you. The man in the front seat drove through the quiet suburbs and into the bustling city.

"Stop here, please", Gojo smiled sweetly at the driver.

The both of you exited the vehicle and thanked the driver. You turned to Gojo before tapping your pockets frantically.

"My bag, I left it in the car!", you turned to chase after the long-gone car.

"Ah, don't worry too much. It'll be home when we get there."

"Home?"

"Yeah, your new home that is", Gojo was typing on his phone, not looking at you.

"Are you sure, Gojo, sir?"

He looked up from his phone, removing a hand from the screen and reaching out above you. His palm loomed over the top of your head as you shrunk away from it, but he just ruffled your hair.

"Absolutely sure, (y/n)."

You fixed your hair, uncertain about how to feel about his over-familiarity with you.

"Where are we going, sir?"

"Weeeellll.." Gojo leaned back unnaturally to look at you, "What's an eighteenth without a bit of celebrating, huh? Plus, we have some time to kill before your meeting with the principal."

Gojo beckoned for you to follow him. You'd never been around so many people before, and it was completely overwhelming. The smell of car fumes and fast food was prominent on every corner and you couldn't pick a point to focus.

"Here we are", Gojo opened the door to a small shop, the soft white door frame leaked the smell of sugar. He gestured for you to enter.

Decadent pastries and painstakingly intricate cupcakes decorated glass display cases. Small fairy lights hung from the walls and plants ran from their pots around the perimeter of windows and countertops.

"What's your favourite flavour of cake (y/n)?", Gojo sat with you on the waiting bench.

You weren't really allowed to eat sweets as a kid, although you did have guests over once, and your mother had baked a simple chocolate cake with strawberries on top for them to share at the table. You remembered the smell in the kitchen being intoxicating, hoping that maybe just this once, your parents would give you a piece. During the visit, you were confined from your room, but as you heard the adults shuffle out onto the veranda, you had snuck downstairs. You couldn't help but be a little greedy and grab one of the larger pieces left on the plate. The cake was delicious, and you wished you'd stolen another piece. Unfortunately for you, as you scurried upstairs, your mother caught you through the stained glass window and took a mental note to punish you when the guests had vacated. Regardless, your small victory and your sweet reward almost made the lack of dinner worth it.

"Chocolate I think, with strawberries on top."

"Ooh that does sound nice", Gojo turned longingly towards the display case.

He rose from the seat, gesturing for you to stay seated. The man at the front welcomed Gojo happily.

"Hello sir, how can I help you today?", the man bore a kind smile and a messy apron.

"I'd like to place an order for a birthday cake, please", Gojo tilted his head to the side, trying to look as cute as possible.

The man placed the order for the cake blushing gently at Gojo's antics.

"That should be available for pickup in three days", the man at the counter fiddled with the buttons on the tablet in front of him, "we'll send you a message to let you know."

"Aww that's such a shame, my precious niece will be so upset."

Gojo pulled his blindfold down revealing his eyes and he pushed his hand up through his hair dramatically. He looked dejectedly down at the floor.

"She'll be so upset", he slowly raised his puppy dog gaze up to the cashier, whose face was beet red, clearly enamoured with the tall white-haired man in front of him.

"It'll be ready this afternoon!"

"Oh, thank you so much."

You couldn't help but feel like you'd just watched possibly the most absurd interaction any human being has ever seen. Gojo sauntered back on over to you, two paper bags and takeaway cups juggled between his hands. You couldn't say anything, you just sat there, mouth agape.

"I know, I'm incredible", Gojo fixed his blindfold and passed a cup and a bag down to you.

You nodded your head at him, slowly taking the items from his hands. You and Gojo sat in the café for a while; he'd bought you a strawberry cupcake and a hot chocolate. You chatted with him about your home life and your parents. You couldn't help but notice his eyebrows wrinkle together at some of the things you told him.

"Sir, this might be the best meal I've ever had. Thank you", you smiled contently down the now empty cup and crumpled paper bag.

"Well, be prepared to have that change more often. You'll be totally spoiled at Jujutsu Tech."

You both stood and waved goodbye to the cashier, disposing of your rubbish on the way out.

The car arrived outside of the café right on time to pick you and Gojo up and take you to your new home. Gojo seemed to be certain that you could pull off your interview with the principal, although you couldn't help but feel nervous. You also couldn't deny the pit in the back of your mind that contained the events of the early morning. Your parents laying in their bed, their eternal slumber brutal and unwavering.

"You'll do great! Don't stress too hard, okay kid?", Gojo placed a hand on your back.

You stepped forward through the towering wooden doors, unprepared but at the same time completely ready.

#jjk #sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #fanfiction #fanfic #curses #cursed #gojo satoru #yuji itadori #nobara kugisaki #megumi fushiguro

[corishadowfang]

Would you still like to share the sections of the Book that were cut out of this chapter? (I’d love to read them!)

Sure! (Throwing it under a Read More just because it gets a little long.)

The first bit I used a couple of phrases from in the chapter, haha, so it was still really useful to have, even if I didn't have the whole thing in the chapter itself; it was mostly going over the Keyblade War:

'But from the chaos would emerge small flickers of light—

The hearts of children, wounded, but prepared to take flight

From the world that crumbled underneath their feet.

Five would come from those who fled—

Five to lead and to guide, for the trials ahead.

One charismatic and curious, quick and brave,

One bold and kind, and desperate to save,

Those few hearts that followed in their stead.

One a trickster, with his endlessly clever plans,

One still hurting from loss, but who’d hold the grieving in gentle hands,

And one who was still small and afraid,

But beloved by the friends that he had made.'

The section got left out...mostly because it broke the rhyme scheme a little in the second verse, but I wasn't sure how much I wanted to edit it, haha.

The next was some stuff from Ven's section; most of the stuff I took out from his was at the end, but I did also take out a little from the beginning, just because...I wasn't sure I liked it. That's here:

'The youngest, the imposter, would fall into the hands

Of the scapegoat, chosen by his forgotten friend,

Who would seek to use him for his own ends,

And would rend him apart; he would intend

To use him to restore the world as he saw fit,

Unable to see the way that his actions broke it.'

(That one I also use some bits from in the chapter itself, haha.) And then the rest of Ven's section was just a short bit focusing on the end of BbS:

'It is a short-lived peace, as most are—

Because one day, an old Darkness would return from afar

To try and tear newly-formed bonds asunder,

And send a healing heart into a decade long slumber.

(And the light—the light would fight, as it always does,

To protect the ones that he came to love.

Perhaps it will one day be enough to spare their lives—

But that is a truth that lives beyond my sight.)'

The last bit was just a short section at the end; this one was mostly taken out because it...didn't really make sense for the Master to have included it, haha:

'(Perhaps there is no way to defy fate—no way to take control,

Or maybe there’s a way forward, if you’re willing to pay the toll.

What do you think, Little Lights?

Will you give up—or will you fight?)'

But yeah, that's the stuff that got cut! Even if I didn't end up using some of it, it was still nice to have it, since it helped give me more of a reference for Skuld and Brain to refer to, haha.

#kingdom hearts #fallen stars #thanks for the ask!!

[mishwanders]

Chapter Eighteen {Heisenberg}: A Heart of Gold Is Hard to Find

Pairing: Karl Heisenberg x GN!Disabled Reader

Summary: The day after some rest, Heisenberg takes some time to think about the life ahead.

Warnings: Mold monster mention

Read On AO3 { X }

When the next morning arrived Heisenberg had already found himself awake at the crack of dawn. His body was set in its ways already, never changing with his schedule, but at least this time he had a much needed restful night of sleep with you by his side. Usually he would already be up, preparing himself for the long and hard day ahead, but today he decided to take a different approach and stay in bed with you, preferring not to rouse you from your slumber too early. He held you against his chest, fingertips gently trailing along your back. You looked peaceful like this, comfortable, without a care in the world. He wished that all of your days could be like this, free from any weight of worry that typically hung heavily on your shoulder, able to enjoy your life freely. But the demands of Mother Miranda awaited you and even he couldn’t be spared from that fate.

But at least for a moment, a little bit of peace from it all was welcomed.

Amongst other things.

He couldn’t get the events of last night out of his mind, feeling anxiety rising to the surface. You meant the world to him, and here you were, in his arms, in his bed, closer to him than he could have ever imagined. You had dug your way into his heart, and rooted yourself inside of him like the damn mold itself. It was all he ever wanted and yet it could so easily be ripped away. He held you even closer to him, resting his chin on your forehead. Amidst all of the anxiety he was going to at least try and enjoy every last minute of his time with you, consume every morsel of it.

Having you by his side made him feel less alone, grounding him to this earth as his mind continued to race through all the fears, the plans, the future. Hearing your voice, seeing your excitement - it gave him hope for a future that could be, one where neither of you would have to continue to live in the confines of the village, under the restraints of Mother Miranda’s rule. He dreamed of a day where neither of you have to fear for your own safety, but where the two of you could have a happy life together - the one that he caught a glimpse of even now with you here.

But only time could grant him that wish. So he would wait, no matter how long it took.

You gently began to rouse from your sleep, a muffled groan escaping you as you looked up at him with a smile on your face. He smiled back at you and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Morning.�� He greeted

“Good morning.” You replied, “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

“The call of the warm bed and being next to you was stronger.” He explained, “besides, I’d miss out on seeing you wake up.”

“Wanted to see me so badly?” You asked

“Of course. I always do.” He replied

He could see you biting down on your lip, trying to keep the smile from growing any further. He knew how to make you melt over and over again.

“Well now that I’m awake, I think we should get a shower.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” He commented, “Let me go get the water running and I’ll help you in.”

You nodded and released him from your arms. He moved the covers, got out of bed and made his way down the hall and into the bathroom. He moved a stool over into the shower to you to sit on, got a fresh towel ready and turned on the water.

That’s when he heard you scream.

The shrillness of it forced him to move before he was able to think and before he knew it he was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, looking at you with concerned panic. He found you bent over the edge of the bed, holding on tightly to your cane. Your eyes were wide with fear, staring at the spot he was standing in before looking up at his own, searching him for safety and reassurance. He quickly made his way to you, helping you sit up.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, the concern heavy in his voice.

“Y-You didn’t see it?” You asked, voice shaken.

He looked at you confused for a moment, but that’s when it all clicked. You were talking about the mold monster.

“What? Are you saying you saw it again?”

You nodded.

“It was standing in the doorway. Y-You walked right through it.”

He looked back towards the door, inspecting it. Whatever was happening to you it didn’t affect him. Maybe that god damn mold was up to something…

Or maybe this was part of Miranda’s manipulation.

“Do you still see it?” He asked

You shook your head.

“No. It disappeared as soon as you walked through.”

“Well, that’s good at least.” He replied

“C-Could you please help me up?” You asked, “I don’t want to be alone here any more.”

“Yeah. Come on, the water should be good by now.”

He took your hand in his, the other staying firmly around your back as he helped guide you to stand. He was happy that you trusted him enough to not let you fall. The two of you made your way back to the bathroom and he helped you get undressed and into the shower, helping the other wash away the remains of the night before and warm up under the water. It was a nice moment for both of you, feeling the gentle care going in with each touch. You had to remind him that you weren’t made of glass again, but he still preferred to care for you in the way he knew how. When you were both done, Heisenberg grabbed the towel and began to help you dry off first. You chuckled at him and pulled him into a kiss before gazing into his eyes. He knew he would never get tired of you.

He would never get tired of loving you.

Chapter Seventeen: Religion

Chapter Nineteen: Conflict of Interest

#resident evil fic #resident evil fanfiction #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg x y/n #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #series: our moral decay

[vehspeaks]

The Shadow's Embrace

It was morning again, and the sky wore a sleepy gray hue. The Waystone Inn lay in quietude. It was a silence of three parts. The first part revealed itself with clarity, as the sturdy stone walls shielded the inn from the the winds of early Autumn. The second part emerged in the symphony of absence. Within the stone walls, copper wiring etched with protective runes warded off unwanted magic, preserving the tranquil ambiance. Yet the deepest silence remained hidden within a man. He lay there, lost in the realm of dreams, oblivious to the clamor of the world, burdened by the weariness of prolonged existence, forever awaiting the gentle touch of death.

As the first blush of orange caressed the horizon, marking the delicate embrace between night and day, the slumbering town began to stir to life. The crackling sound of kindling resonated, accompanied by the gentle murmur of simmering water, announcing the imminent arrival of comforting porridge. Autumn leaves whispered through the dew-kissed grass, creating a morning lullaby that awakened the world. Within the Waystone Inn, a sanctuary nestled amidst the rich tapestry of existence, the lingering aroma of freshly baked muffins permeated the air, their sweet nuttiness casting an enchanting spell. Amidst the remnants of diligent labor, a chaotic arrangement of copper utensils testified to the bustling activity of busy hands, while a spill of batter, akin to a shared secret whispered in hushed tones, sizzled on the rim of a worn stone bowl. And nearby, the cooling muffins sang a gentle melody, their tiny, contented pings forming a sweet symphony, as they embraced the tender caress of the morning.

These minuscule, forgotten sounds added a clandestine silence to the prevailing, resounding one. They stitched it together like tiny, gleaming threads of brass. The subdued thumping served as a counterpoint to the rhythmic beats of the tabor, accompanying the song. Amidst this symphony, Bast continued to softly whistle, his melody contrasting the serenity of the inn. Within the confines of the inn, the flickering flames of the hearth danced merrily, casting their warmth throughout the room and illuminating the copper fixtures. The stillness was tangible, interrupted solely by the gentle crackle of the fire and Bast's muted movements in the kitchen.

Kote awakened suddenly, surprised to find that he had overslept. However, something felt different about this day, a renewed vigor that he had not felt in years. For the first time in an age, he had dreamt. Dreams that rekindled memories of his days at university and the companionship of dear friends. A smile played on his lips as he made his way to the mirror, gazing at his reflection with wonder. He looked youthful, almost like his old self.

But the joy was fleeting, for the scars of his past were etched deep into his skin and his soul. The wounds of battles fought and losses suffered never truly faded. He pushed the thoughts away, savoring this moment of tranquility, avoiding the chest in the corner of the room that held memories he'd rather forget.

Descending the stairs to the common room, the alluring aroma of breakfast greeted Kote, a nutty scent that hung in the air like a warm embrace. There, Bast was already hard at work, preparing a bounty of chocolate pecan muffins. Bast's excitement was contagious, and he welcomed Kote with a broad grin, pushing a muffin into his hand. Kote took a bite and savored the flavor.

Gazing out the window at the beautiful windy autumn morning, Kote felt a sense of hope he had long thought lost. Perhaps this day would bring something new, something different. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, cherishing the peace of the moment. But the tranquility was short-lived as Bast's frenzied movements caused a copper tray stacked with soiled utensils to crash to the floor, creating a mess in the kitchen. "Be careful, Bast!" Kote exclaimed, but soon shrugged it off and began to help clean up with a smile. For even though Bast had made a mess, Kote's good mood remained unbroken.

Kote surveyed the mess in the kitchen with a mix of amusement and irritation. Flour and batter covered every surface, and the floor was a minefield of soiled utensils and sticky batter.

"Well, I suppose this is what I get for letting you loose in the kitchen, Bast," Kote said with a chuckle.

Bast pouted. "I was just trying to do something nice for us, Reshi."

"I know, I know," Kote said, clapping a hand on Bast's shoulder. "But maybe next time we'll stick to something a little simpler; toast?"

As they started cleaning up, Kote couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Bast. They were like two children playing in the kitchen, tossing bits of batter at each other and making jokes as they worked.

"Look at the two of you," came a voice from the corner of the room. Chronicler sat at a small table, his quill scratching away at a parchment. "You're like a pair of mischievous sprites."

Kote grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment, Devan."

Bast snickered and eyed Chronicler. "Maybe we should toss some your way too, Chronicler. You seem like you could use a little sweetness in your life."

Chronicler rolled his eyes. "I'll pass, thank you very much. I don't want to end up covered in batter like you two."

Kote's eyes glinted mischievously as he picked up a dollop of batter and flung it in Chronicler's direction. The quill scratching suddenly stopped as the splotch of batter landed on Chronicler's parchment.

"Kote!" Chronicler exclaimed. "You spoiled a page!"

Kote chuckled. “It was a whisk worth taking."

Chronicler locked eyes with Kote with irritation, but as he looked into Kote's eyes, he saw something that caught him off guard - a glimmer of genuine joy. Despite the chaos around them, Kote seemed to be reveling in the moment, enjoying the company of his friend and the simple pleasure of cleaning up a mess together. His infectious good mood was like a warm blanket, and before Chronicler knew it, he found himself chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Bast flung another handful of batter at Kote, who retaliated with a swift flick of his wrist. The two friends continued their playful game, their laughter echoing through the inn's kitchen and spilling out into the morning air.

Outside, a different kind of energy was stirring. The wind, fickle and wild, had begun to pick up from the east. It howled through the town of Nawarre, ruffling hair and tugging at clothing as it passed. The gusts were strong, rattling windows and doors with a fierce determination, as if trying to shake the very foundations of the buildings. But it was the wind's playful nature that truly captivated the townsfolk. It danced between the buildings, swirling around corners and through narrow alleyways like a carefree spirit. The leaves it carried with it twirled in the air like ballerinas, graceful and light, as if caught up in the wind's whimsical magic.

In front of each building, the wind put on a show, revealing glimpses of life inside as it lifted curtains and skirts with a mischievous flair. It tousled hair and brushed cheeks, leaving a faint whisper in its wake that sent shivers down spines. It rustled through the branches of trees, shaking free the last of their leaves and sending them spiraling to the ground in a colorful dance.

Even the buildings themselves seemed to come alive under the wind's touch. The wooden planks of the houses creaked and groaned, their shingles rattling like teeth as if urging the town to awaken from its slumber. The chimneys breathed out puffs of smoke, carried away by the gusts like a message to the heavens, signaling the start of a new day.

Despite the wind's wildness, there was a sense of peace to it, as if the wind had come to play and to remind the town of the beauty of life. And as it danced through the streets, it brought with it the promise of a new day, full of possibility and wonder, a gift from the whimsical spirit of nature itself.

Inside the kitchen, Bast's laughter and Kote's jokes drowned out the sound of the howling gale, and their playful game continued unabated. For in that moment, they were invincible, shielded from the storm outside by the warmth of their friendship and the joy of their company.

The sound of Chronicler clearing his throat echoed through the room like the tolling of a bell. Kvothe and Bast, lost in their own world of play, were startled by the sudden interruption. Chronicler gestured to the papers in front of him, a silent reminder that time was slipping away.

Chronicler's interruption was gentle, but it was enough to pull Kvothe and Bast out of their playful reverie. They had been deep in the midst of a game, laughter ringing out through the inn as they chased each other with battered spoons.

But with a quick nod, they acknowledged Chronicler's words and set about finishing their tasks. Kvothe straightened his shirt, while Bast swept the floor with a flourish. They moved with a fluid grace, each movement precise and deliberate.

Once the last dish was washed and the kitchen was spotless, they pulled up chairs to where Chronicler was sitting. Kvothe took a deep breath and gave an introduction to the third day of his story.

Kote's voice quavered with emotion as he looked down at his hands, folded tightly in his lap. "This is it," he said, his tone heavy with regret. "The end of everything. Every mistake I've made, every wrong turn I've taken, will be laid out before you like a feast of shame. And I fear, my friends, that you will never look upon me the same again."

A loud gust of wind blew across the side of the Waystone Inn, startling Bast and Chronicler. Rising from his seat, Kote walked behind the bar and retrieved a satchel, throwing it onto the floor in front of the inn's entrance. His expression grew somber as he fixed his gaze upon the world beyond the window, his hands methodically assembling a collection of objects on a nearby table. Metal clinks and faint rustling filled the air as he arranged each item with deliberate purpose, his voice resonating with a measured tone, mindful of Chronicler's presence and the significance of capturing this tale accurately.

"Today, we confront the tragic fates that befell my dear friends and the vile betrayal that birthed their downfall," Kvothe recounted, his voice steady yet tinged with melancholy. "But before we delve into the depths of darkness, let us first pay homage to the radiant light that is Auri. Her intellect and beauty transcend the bounds of language, for it was through her that I discovered the true essence of magic, the enchantment found only in the pages of fabled lore. She unraveled the secrets of the Underthing, revealing wondrous vistas I had only dared to dream of."

"On a day much like any other, I found myself atop rooftops, lute in hand, lost in the sweet melody of music. It was then that I caught a glimpse of Auri, seemingly listening to my performance from across the courtyard. Perplexed by her proximity, I decided to continue playing, traversing the abandoned courtyard, drawn to her ethereal presence. The ballad I chose spoke of forbidden desires and a farmer's wife who harbored unconventional wishes involving donkeys."

As the recollection unfolded, Kvothe's hands paused for a moment, his eyes briefly studying the arrangement he had crafted. Then, with renewed purpose, he resumed his task, each motion deliberate, each item carefully positioned.

"Yet, as I drew nearer, it became apparent that the girl I approached was not Auri herself, although her beauty bore a striking resemblance. With raven-black hair and eyes adorned in a captivatingly dark and elegant makeup, she exuded an air of mystery. We had not crossed paths within the walls of the university. I wondered if Auri was playing a trick on me. Curiosity piqued, I greeted her with a bow, my voice filled with anticipation. 'And who might you be?' I inquired, expecting Auri's playful jest. However, instead of a lighthearted response, my cheek met the force of the most resounding slap I had ever experienced, accompanied by the name 'Nyx.'"

Kvothe's voice, heavy with a mournful melody, bore the burden of his words as he invoked the name, drawing out the last syllable with a pregnant pause. Almost sounding like the Cthaeh when he said the name. The trinkets meticulously arranged on the table seemed poised, awaiting their destined purpose. Towering above, Kvothe turned his unwavering gaze upon Chronicler, his eyes piercing the scribe's with an intensity that begged for his words to be etched into the very fabric of reality.

"Nyx," Kvothe began, his voice a soft whisper, tinged with reverence. "Nyx was Auri's shadow." He spoke of her with profound comprehension, for Nyx danced through existence with an otherworldly elegance and a silence that could rival the deepest of enigmas. She clung to Auri, their lives intertwined in twilight realms where secrets loomed. Wherever Auri trod, a shadowy ballet followed, Nyx mimicking her every step—a loyal silhouette woven into the tapestry of their shared being. Yet, despite this profound connection, Nyx found herself abandoned. Auri had somehow severed herself from her shadow. It was Nyx who led me to the Doors of Stone.”

Before Kote could elaborate further, the wind bellowed outside, rudely rupturing the room's tranquility. Kote's eyes darted towards the window, fear and anticipation entwined in his gaze. In one swift motion, his hand sought the lever attached to the intricate contraption upon the table. A mighty blast erupted from the device, reverberating with a tumultuous clamor that shook the inn's very foundations. And there, beyond the window's reach, a tempestuous maelstrom of pulsating emerald energy ensnared the establishment.

In the wake of this eruption, a torrential onslaught of Scrael descended upon the inn from the distance, their malevolence palpable in their merciless assault. Countless spindly legged spider-like Screal unleashed their wrath upon the sturdy walls of the inn. Yet the forcefield stood unyielding, a bastion of protection repelling the vile onslaught. The town however was not so protected.

Chronicler and Bast, witnesses to this devastating spectacle, stood frozen in horror, their eyes widened by disbelief. Yet Kote, the innkeeper, remained composed, his countenance unflinching in the face of the tempest. His voice, calm and resolute, pierced through the chaos that enveloped them.

"But let us set aside that tale for another time, my friends," Kote declared, his words ringing with unwavering resolve. "Our attention must return to the present, for we are now in the final moment, the moment of reckoning everything must be played out perfectly." Casting a final gaze out the window, Kvothe's visage hardened, his eyes, an unquenchable flame of determination burned fiercely. "For now, let us press on with unwavering resolve, and may the retelling of this saga stand as a testament to the truth that must endure."

Kote's voice cut through the air like a blade, its edge honed with suspicion. "You're hiding something, Devon."

As Kote, with a steady gaze, met Chronicler's eyes, a subtle spark of curiosity danced within his own. With a single raised eyebrow, he silently conveyed a question, a challenge, to the chronicler of stories. The room seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation.

Chronicler's unease grew, his composure shattered by the relentless onslaught of Scrael, their malevolence repelled by the pulsating green barrier outside. His fingers trembled, the quill in his hand a mere plaything. "Me? How could you entertain such a notion? I am but a chronicler, a mere vessel for the truth to be unveiled. I assure you, I harbor no part in this... this chaos. Kote, dear Kote, I believe in your tale, and it is my utmost wish for the world to embrace it as well."

Kote's eyes, like shards of obsidian, bore into Chronicler's soul, seeing through the fragile facade he had constructed. "Your words hold the cadence of truth, but there is a dissonance that reverberates within them. A melody gone awry. And I sense in you the song of a Chandrian."

Kote: “It matters little now, Chronicler. Against all odds, I find myself compelled to trust your words. I admit, suspicions of your duplicitous nature lingered within me, entwined with thoughts of your shadowed machinations. Yet, in this singular fateful meeting between us, I perceive a glimmer of authenticity. It’s a shame that I can't protect you from him…” 

Kote's words hung in the air, tantalizingly close to revealing a hidden truth, but then he abruptly fell into silence, his eyes locked upon the door, a harbinger of imminent arrival. Chronicler, though reluctant to acknowledge the unsettling reality mirrored in Kote's gaze, followed suit and turned his attention to the entrance. The relentless onslaught of Scrael finally ceased, each abhorrent creature ensnared within the confines of a formidable forcefield, their desperate limbs flailing futilely in search of solid ground. The inn shrouded itself in a profound hush, as if the very fabric of the atmosphere held its breath, bracing for the ominous fate that awaited. Serpentine tendrils of darkness slithered forth, creeping stealthily from under the door.

Chronicler was seized by sudden panic, his eyes darting frantically across the room, searching for refuge from the encroaching shadows. The inn, once warm and inviting, now draped itself in an ominous cloak. With quill in hand, he pleaded with desperation, "Kote, believe me! I wasn't there when tragedy befell your family. I bear no ill intent towards you or yours, I did not become a Chandrian by choice, I swear upon my name."

Kote's eyes bore into Chronicler, a piercing intensity that cut through the air. "Back in my days at the university, I delved into ancient texts and discovered a thread of knowledge. Did you truly think I could decipher that intricate puzzle in a measly fifteen minutes? No, my dear Chronicler, that cipher has been my pursuit for ages, spanning countless tomes and eras." He paused, letting his words sink in. "I surmised that you could only be one of two things—either a Chandrian or an Amyr. Did you honestly believe that you orchestrated this grand scheme? It was Bast, acting under my command, who orchestrated this entire elaborate ruse."

His gaze shifted, as if drawn magnetically towards the door. A mix of resignation and trepidation painted his face. "And now, he has arrived. The one I never wanted to face again. I find myself utterly powerless to stop him, bound by circumstances beyond my control. There's naught I can do, even if I desired otherwise." Kote's voice carried a heavy weight of defeat, a haunting echo of his once indomitable spirit. “He’s just broken our wards.” 

Suddenly, a loud crash shattered the silence. The door burst open and a shadowy figure loomed in the threshold, its features obscured by darkness. The tension in the air thickened, and Chronicler couldn't help but feel a sense of terror. 

Kote stood with arms open wide in a greeting towards the dark figure. “Ah, my dear friend! I am relieved to see you have arrived at last. Gathered here we are, united in our shared anticipation of the bittersweet embrace of death, that coveted respite we long for. The realm of eternal slumber beckons, its allure growing ever stronger. And now, I beseech you, would you grant me the honor of bringing this existence to its final rest? For the weight of life has become an unbearable burden, a source of unyielding agony that gnaws at the very core of my being.” 

The figure draped in shadows let out a sinister chuckle, casting an ominous pall over the surroundings as he strode into the building. With each step, darkness and despair seemed to follow in his wake, enveloping all within its clutches. And then, with a voice laced with malevolence, he spoke.

"I care not for you, or your dramatics, Kote," the figure sneered, his words dripping with a venomous edge. "Your reckoning will not pass by my hand. No, it is the scribe I seek, the chronicler of tales." A twisted gratitude seeped into his tone. "I extend my gratitude to you, for you have unwittingly assembled him here for me."

With a casual flick of its arm, the figure summoned forth a surge of unholy might, unleashing a torrent of dark power that reverberated through the very fabric of existence. In a mesmerizing display, the elegant sword named Folly was wrenched from its place amidst the hearth, becoming naught but a puppet in the figure's grasp, guided through the air with a chilling precision. And as the blade underwent a metamorphosis, its form shifting and undulating like quicksilver, a more ominous countenance took shape.

The figure's voice dripped with a mix of satisfaction and haunting nostalgia. "Ah, it is a pleasure to feel her weight in my hand once more," it spoke, the words laden with a sinister delight. "You, Kote, have guarded her well, and for that, I suppose a token of gratitude is in order."

With an ominous flourish, its slender finger extended, pointing directly at Chronicler, its unyielding gaze piercing his soul. A voice, dripping with malevolence, spilled forth in a venomous whisper, the words a macabre decree that sent shivers racing along every nerve.

"Once this wretch meets his fate," it proclaimed, each syllable laden with a foreboding weight, "I shall grant you a fleeting respite, a mere breath of time, to glimpse her visage. But be warned, for it shall be but a fleeting ember before I cast her once more into the abyss of eternal torment that is my company."

Chronicler rose from his seat, his features contorted in panic and a desperate plea poised on his lips. Yet, before a sound could escape his throat, a sudden hush befell the room as the floating blade cleaved through his flesh with a sickening crunch. Time seemed to slow as the metallic kiss met tender flesh, sending rivulets of crimson spraying across the parchment. The vivid ink of Chronicler's transcribed words became entangled in a macabre dance with the crimson tide, blurring and distorting the meticulous script he had so diligently crafted. A gasp of agony mingled with the metallic tang of blood, filling the air with a raw intensity that bordered on the surreal. In that harrowing moment, the fragility of life clashed with the brutality of fate, leaving an indelible mark upon both the parchment and the storyteller who had dared to chronicle the tale.

The voice of the enigmatic figure tore through the stifling silence, its words laced with simmering anger and unwavering certainty. "Look upon the web of lies he has spun, a tapestry woven from deceit and distortion," it declared, the unsettling certainty lingering in the air. "Did you truly dare, Kote, to defy the threads of your own destiny? For he, too, would have betrayed you, his treachery an inevitable strand in the intricate design. Already, he revels in the art of deception, wearing the mask of benevolence while profiting from the sale of a chapter unwritten. His actions reek of boundless betrayal, a parasite feasting upon the unsuspecting, twisting reality to satisfy his insatiable desires. Even the majestic dragons he reduces to mere cattle, stripping them of their awe-inspiring grandeur."

The figure's voice seethed with righteous fury, unmasking the depths of its contempt. "And let us not forget his despicable portrayal of women, his insidious misogyny laid bare for all to see. His charitable donations, too, a façade of false generosity, exploiting the contributions of his devoted readers for personal gain. He must face his own reflection, peering unflinchingly into the abyss of his tarnished soul," the shadowy figure proclaimed, casting its discerning gaze upon Bast, who stood under the weight of its piercing scrutiny.

"Have no faith in the faeling, either," the figure persisted, its voice dripping with contempt. "Anyone foolish enough to seek your restoration, blind to the cataclysmic havoc your narcissism will unleash upon them. Have your dalliances with Felurian and his despicable father not taught you a single thing? Know that they, too, met their demise by my hand. Just like your other deceitful companions."

Bast, fueled by unyielding loyalty, unleashed his fury with a vehement roar, his voice seething with indignant rage. "My father may have been wicked, but his life was not yours to take!" His words reverberated with an incandescent intensity, challenging the encroaching darkness that tainted the very core of the inn. Displaying a breathtaking exhibition of otherworldly agility, he defied the shackles of mortal existence, soaring with ethereal grace that defied gravity's hold. With unwavering determination, he hurtled towards the advancing shadow, daring it to invade their sacred refuge.

In response to his call, a legion of crows echoed his defiance, their caws slicing through the air like a discordant symphony of warning. Beaks glinted with ominous intent, talons poised for battle in the dim, foreboding light.

"Please, Bast! You can't come out on top. Surrender," Kote implored, his voice heavy with a melancholic tone that mirrored the depths of his sorrow. "I have much left to teach you, to guide you along the path of truth and wisdom." His words bore the weight of profound knowledge and a desperate yearning for understanding. Yet, in his heart, he knew the futility of his plea, for the wheels of fate had already been set in motion, the die cast.

Kote's resignation echoed through his voice, the sorrow seeping into every syllable, as he issued a brief warning. The urgency laced his words, attempting to break through Bast's anger and reach his understanding.

The figure's response materialized not as a mere retort, but as a sinister laughter that tore through the air, rending the avian assault into dissipating shreds of smoke. With a malevolent flourish, it revealed from the depths of its cloak an iron chain adorned with spikes of malice—a serpentine embodiment of wicked intent that slithered through the air. In an instant, it ensnared Bast's leg, mercilessly wrenching him to the ground. The chain coiled around his writhing form like a venomous serpent, its constricting grip draining the life essence with relentless malevolence.

Bast, consumed by a torrent of emotions, fought to utter his words through labored breaths, his voice trembling with a mixture of sorrow and desperation. "Reshi... Please... Act... Act swiftly... I beg you..." His eyes, a reflection of his indomitable spirit tinged with anguish, implored Kote for aid in their dire predicament. The spiked chains constricting his form forced painful wounds to seep crimson, staining the ground beneath him.

Kote, consumed by a tumultuous blend of helplessness and determination, rose from his seat, tears streaming down his face, bearing witness to the tragedy unfolding before him. His heart, heavy with sorrow, knew he was unable to match this adversary. His voice quivered with a potent blend of anguish and resolve as he voiced his protest. "Have we not endured enough?" Kote gestured towards Chronicler's lifeless body, his tone laden with grief. "Yes, he may have been a Chandrian, but why must you claim Bast as well? Why not simply take my life and bring an end to all of this? Was it not sufficient to hunt down and annihilate seven of the Chandrian, as you have done? A contract was signed in blood, and you have fulfilled its final part. You must return to me, now."

Through the hallowed confines of the Waystone, the figure's voice reverberated, a chilling melody steeped in sinister confidence. Its words slithered forth, dripping with venomous assurance, challenging the very foundation of truth clinging desperately to Kote's fading grasp.

"Seven Chandrian?" it mused, a derisive scoff hanging in the air like a poised dagger. "Ah, dear Kote, your tenuous hold on reality falters within this mortal realm. As long as the University exists new Chandrian will be made, you proved that. I shall persist until the essence of the Chandrian and their disciples is but a distant memory, erased from the tapestry of existence. I will not return to you until each student harboring their dark legacy is snuffed out, their deserved demise delivered with meticulous precision. As we speak, my Scrael scour the four corners, relentless hunters on an unending quest. Every arcanist shall taste the bitter sweetness of death, banished to the shadowfell, forever imprisoned in the realm of eternal darkness."

As the figure's chilling proclamation echoed through the air, Bast's struggles intensified, the spiked chain digging deeper into his flesh. Agonizing cries tore from his lips, mingling with the cruel laughter of his tormentor. The once-vibrant fae, embodiment of mischief and spark, was now reduced to a mere vessel of suffering. Blood stained the ground beneath him, a grim testament to the brutality of his fate.

Kote's heart shattered, the weight of despair crushing his spirit. He had sworn to protect Bast, to shield him from harm, yet now he could only bear witness to his trusted companion's anguish. Tears flowed unabated down Kote's face, mingling with the rain that fell from the darkened sky. A silence hung heavy in the air, its tendrils coiling around Kote's weary heart.

The shadowy figure sniffed, its voice a chilling murmur that oozed with the echoes of ancient malevolence. "Ingenious, ensnaring her here, Kote," it spoke in a painfully familiar tone. Its piercing gaze swept across the inn, a predatory glimmer dancing within its eyes. "A miniature crockery, your inn has become. It took me countless cycles of the moon to unveil the hidden path to this sanctuary. Your cunning, Kote, shielded it with an artful veil of ingenuity. But why, pray tell, confine her for all this time when it was you who beseeched me so fervently to resurrect her? I found a path to salvation. You ought to rejoice."

The figure's eyes glimmered with a baleful glint, as its voice slithered forth, dripping with venomous intent. "Fear not, for I shall not inflict harm upon her. The snuffing of her flickering flame holds no allure for me," it hissed with calculated cruelty. "Nay, I have come to liberate her. She belongs to me now, cherished in her ethereal form. But, dear Kote, the burden of her demise rests solely upon your weary shoulders, burdened with the weight of your long neglect. Only you possess the key to her return. A task I know you shall eternally forsake. The weight of her presence shall forever haunt you."

With resolute steps, the figure emerged from the shroud of shadows, venturing into the trembling light cast by the inn's flickering glow. As the darkness relinquished its grip on his black elegant robes, Kote beheld a pale and handsome figure—a man with flowing fiery red hair, his piercing emerald eyes gleaming with an insidious shade that could bring even the strongest woman to her knees. A man so wicked, the Cthaeh itself feared him.

Veh's voice slithered malevolently through the air, each syllable a venomous whisper that wormed its way into the depths of their souls. "I shall unbind her from this ephemeral prison," he hissed, his tone drenched in wickedness. "And she shall elect me as her Watcher. For she has ever held a greater fondness for my presence." Veh's laughter, devoid of warmth or mirth, resounded with ruthless cruelty. "Behold, I shall grant you a semblance of fairness. Should, by the light of Tehlu himself, her heart dare to favor you, then I shall relinquish my separate existence, merging seamlessly with your being, restoring the man we once were."

Kote, burdened by a frail flicker of hope that struggled against the encroaching darkness, yearned to be whole once more, to revel in her presence anew. The memory of their shared melody lingered in his mind, haunting him with bittersweet echoes that stretched across the ages. He longed for the days when they would sit together, savoring the taste of strawberry wine upon their lips, engaging in conversations about the simplest of things. Kote would give anything to have those moments return, even if it meant enduring her prolonged absences, her visits reduced to fleeting glimpses amidst the passing seasons. For it was in those stolen fragments of time that he felt the true essence of wholeness, the small moments that now only served as painful reminders of his existential emptiness.

With a heavy heart burdened by the weight of his desires, Kote found himself bowing beneath the relentless force of his yearning. He acquiesced, his voice but a mere whisper amidst the mournful air. "Do it then," he murmured, surrendering himself to the capricious hands of fate, aware deep down of the inevitable consequences that would follow.

With a single, merciless strike, Veh unleashed Folly upon the very foundation of the room. The floor trembled beneath the weight of the blow, as if the world itself recoiled in fear, shuddering in anticipation of the impending storm. The air grew heavy, electric with a pulsating tension, vibrating with a symphony of a song long unsung. The sword underwent a profound metamorphosis, its essence twisting and contorting until it emerged as a sinuous stream of living mercury. A macabre dance of transformation unfolded before their starved gazes, an enchantment both grotesque and captivating.

Amidst the undulating mercury, a figure emerged, ethereal and beguiling. Denna glided forth with measured strides, her presence a mesmerizing spectacle that  could bewitch all who behold her. Raven feathers, as dark as sorrow's ink, wove together into a garment that trailed behind her, a melancholic cloak of night. In her delicate hand, she held a gleaming dagger, a shard of moonlight forged into a weapon. Her gaze, a tempest of choices, darted between Kote and Veh, casting a shroud of uncertainty over the tear-stained scene.

Denna, woven with resignation and pity, approached Kote with measured steps, each one burdened with the weight of impending sorrow. Her presence, once a flickering light in his world, now cast a mournful shadow over him. The symphony of their shared moments echoed through the air, haunting melodies that stirred the depths of his anguished heart. A melancholic sigh, burdened with the weight of cruel destiny, slipped through her quivering lips, entwining with the unshed tears that shimmered in her eyes. Fate, that merciless weaver of threads, had woven its final decree upon the intricate tapestry of their lives. The portion of his essence that she cherished, once safeguarded within Kvothe's own being, now resided within Veh, a devastating separation that he himself had unwittingly orchestrated in his naivety long ago. His soul shuddered beneath the weight of remorse, his spirit trembling with the knowledge of the irreversible choices he had made.

Denna, her voice now a somber whisper, traced the jagged contours of their shared sorrow. "I must go with him, dear Kote," she murmured, each word a mournful melody that resonated through the caverns of his aching heart. Her words carried the tender lament of a love torn apart by the capricious whims of destiny. In the labyrinthine depths of her gaze, he glimpsed the shards of shattered dreams, the remnants of a future that would forever remain elusive.

Denna, her countenance a tumultuous blend of hesitance and malevolence, directed her dagger's pointed menace toward the tender hollow of Kote's exposed abdomen, while the mournful arc of her lips betrayed an intimate grasp of sorrow's depths. The blade quivered in her grasp, its metallic glimmer subdued beneath the weight of unspoken anguish, as though recoiling from its own dark purpose. Silence, thick as a leaden shroud, draped the air, its crushing weight an inextricable weave within the tapestry of their shared fates. With a leaden heart burdened by his choices, Kote braved the precipice, surrendering himself to the merciless choreography of their entangled lives. He embraced the searing kiss of the blade—a bitter-sweet caress that pierced the very core of his being. Through his veins coursed a tempest of torment, mingling with a profound void that devoured his essence. In this self-inflicted sacrifice, he bore the immense burden of their shattered aspirations, his spirit eclipsed by the toll of his chosen path. As the mantle of darkness descended upon him, Kote’s world condensed into a singular point of anguish and remorse. The symphony of their intertwined existence soared to its climactic zenith in his waning awareness—a tragic opus destined to resonate through the eternal corridors of time. In this solemn juncture, their destinies fused irrevocably, their love and loss etched indelibly into the annals of history.

 Slowly, Denna turned her gaze toward Veh, drawn inexorably into his embrace by an irresistible force. Their longing surpassed the bounds of mere mortality, their souls entwined in a dance of desire. Her delicate hand trailed down Veh's chest, a knowing smile playing upon her lips. And in a piteous gesture, she waved farewell to Kote, bidding him a goodbye too burdened with sorrow to bear. Veh, his voice laced with a hint of urgency, spoke to Denna. "I must ascend the stairs, my love, retrieve something of great import." An audible click pierced the silence, emanating from the upper chambers. Veh glided upstairs, disappearing from sight, only to descend with Kvothe's Shaed draped upon his shoulders, carrying Kvothe's lute case and adorning himself with the rings that once adorned Kote's fingers. In his grasp, he held out the Loeclos Box to Denna. Denna's smile bloomed as she clutched the box to her heart. And so, Denna and Veh departed from the ravaged inn, stepping into the desolation that lay beyond its crumbling walls. Left behind, Kote crumbled upon the icy floor, his lifeblood pooling around him, blending with the wreckage of his shattered dreams. Inconsolable sobs wracked his body, each breath a painful reminder of the irreversible loss he had suffered. Beside him, his cherished companions lay lifeless, their absence casting an irrevocable shadow over his heart, a heart shattered beyond repair.

Upon the floor of the Waystone Inn, a profound stillness settled, a silence of three parts. Two souls, bereft of breath, found eternal solace in serene slumber, their tales interwoven into the tapestry of a story unfinished. Amidst them knelt a solitary figure, burdened by the ceaseless weight of agony, a penance stretching across the boundless expanse of time. Within his grip, a key, a coin, and a candle, symbols of a past entwined with destiny's cruel design. Before him sprawled the parchment pages of his life, poised to unfurl his narrative. As anticipation thickened the air, the wick ignited, ethereal flames casting melancholic shadows upon his face. And in that moment, a glimmer of a smile graced Kote's lips, bittersweet respite amidst the sorrows of his world. With a binding made, the surge of heat and consuming pain washed over him, and Kote relinquished his hold on the realm of the living. Within the sacred confines of his surrender, the innkeeper found his long-awaited rest.

#kingkiller #kingkiller chronicle #kvothe kingkiller #bast #doors of stone #final chapter #fanfiction

[writtenbywings]

Life After Forever

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x Elena Gilbert

Summary: [A continuation following the finale] "After our long and happy life together..." — including small snippets of everything in between. Damon and Elena live after forever.

Chapter word count: 700 words

Link: Life After Forever

Type: Fluffy Romance

INTRODUCTION

"As the world nearly came to an end, and a breath of fire blew over the town that once seemed so normal, so timid in its ignorance, she was reborn from the ashes and smoke that it left behind. Flames amiss, orange no longer a favored color, a blanket of grey was what she first saw when the world had decided to righten itself again. And then came the blue… Hail the blue!"

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

There is a point (a moment) in time where everything can change… where the balance of nature shifts, and normality undertakes a new definition. The world will roll from its underbelly, and bare its blazing white middle to the galaxy above, familiarity becoming a stranger and darkness being brought to light.

Elena thought, as she took that first step onto the mossy clearing, that everything, in fact, had changed. That the world she had once been so intimate with had become a stranger.

The trees had a new shape, the earth had a new smell, the smiles of her friends were different… were unexplainably dark in their joy. There were absences, there were uninvited guests, there were eyes she had never seen before and ones she had missed dreadfully.

Though most of all, the one thing that had perhaps hindered her more than anything—that had caused time to freeze and her breaths to falter—was him.

Was Damon.

Was the unexpected warmth in his hands as they gripped the back of her neck and lower back—forcing her into him with such desperation. They were hot with humanity, his cheeks lightly stubbled, his hair shaggier at the back and eyes watery with want. He smelt like sweat, and soap, and sadness… and he tasted like every day she had spent away from him. A pining pain that would never be satisfied.

Their lips moulded into one, and she clutched his newly human self to her with the fear that he'd disappear… just as he had on that highway when they said their last goodbye. After the kiss, the drop, the promise that he would live his life to the fullest, she had hugged him close and then like a flame being puffed out, he had vanished from her grasp, leaving her alone on that lonely road, standing in a dress moments before he had so selfishly wanted to remove.

The reminder, in the mix of fear, had brought a flush of red to her chest and cheeks, and she mewled into his open, hot mouth. His tongue was preparing itself to invade, and then the reminder that they weren't alone surged forward, and he brought himself back. Still holding her, still looking at her. Marvelling at the beauty that would for the next sixty years, be his.

They had forever, and even a little after that, Damon had to remind himself.

Elena lifted her hand and caressed his face, watching the way her thumb dipped onto his upper lip, and over his chin. Later, her touch said. Now, her eyes plead.

Caroline cleared her throat, and unfastened from her pocket a small snow globe, Mystic Falls' heart in the centre, surrounded by artificial snow and glitter. It sat on the breast of a broken tree trunk, and Damon broke away to follow. Still holding Elena's hand, he placed his ring beside a gift from Bonnie, and one from Alaric. The blue glimmered beneath the sunlight, and Damon's hand looked bear without it…

Elena, too, slipped something personal around the candles, around the shrine that wished Stefan peace where he was… the vervain necklace still looked as beautiful the day he had given it to her. It sat blindingly against the leaves, against the trees and world that had changed so much during her slumber. And together, they joined arm in arm, and stepped toward their future.

#delena #DELENA FOREVER #delena gif #delena fanfiction #delena shippers club #tvd #TVD Elena #damon salvatore edit #elena gilbert edit #tvdforever #tvd family #elena x damon #elena gilbert #fanfiction

[sleepcitytx]

Dreamscape Texas Unveiling the Tranquil Allure of Sleep City

In the heart of the Lone Star State lies a hidden gem that goes beyond the typical Texan hustle and bustle. Nestled amidst rolling hills and serene landscapes, Sleep City in Texas is not just a place to rest your head; it's a haven where dreams are woven into the very fabric of its existence.

Sleep City, often regarded as a sanctuary for the restless souls seeking respite, stands as a testament to the fusion of modern comfort and the tranquility of nature. This enchanting city, veiled in a blanket of starlit skies and gentle breezes, beckons weary travelers and locals alike to embark on a journey into the realm of peaceful slumber.

The city's charm lies in its commitment to providing an immersive and restorative sleep experience. From boutique hotels to cozy bed and breakfasts, Sleep City boasts a diverse range of accommodations designed to cater to every preference. Visitors can choose to reside in luxurious suites overlooking the scenic landscapes or opt for charming cottages that offer an intimate connection with nature.

The city's commitment to promoting a healthy sleep culture is reflected in its array of wellness-focused activities. Sleep City embraces the concept of sleep hygiene, offering yoga and meditation sessions that help individuals unwind and prepare for a night of deep, rejuvenating sleep. The soothing sounds of nature, coupled with the crisp night air, create an ambiance conducive to relaxation and introspection.

One of Sleep City's most distinctive features is its commitment to incorporating cutting-edge sleep technology into everyday life. Smart homes and hotels equipped with state-of-the-art sleep monitoring devices allow residents and guests to track their sleep patterns, ensuring a personalized and optimized sleep environment. This forward-thinking approach sets Sleep City apart as a pioneer in the quest for a good night's sleep.

Beyond the quest for restful nights, Sleep City boasts a vibrant cultural scene that comes alive as the sun sets. The streets are adorned with local art installations, and the city hosts regular events that blend entertainment with relaxation. From moonlit concerts in the city's central park to stargazing sessions led by local astronomers, Sleep City transcends the conventional notions of nightlife, offering experiences that are as enriching as they are calming.

The gastronomic scene in Sleep City is a delightful journey in itself. The city's chefs are passionate about crafting menus that incorporate sleep-promoting ingredients, ensuring that every meal contributes to the overall well-being of its patrons. Whether it's a cup of herbal tea before bedtime or a nutritious breakfast to kickstart the day, Sleep City's culinary offerings are curated with the intent of nourishing both body and mind.

As dawn breaks over Sleep City, visitors are greeted with a sense of renewal and revitalization. The city's commitment to fostering a restful atmosphere extends beyond its accommodations and activities. Parks and green spaces are meticulously maintained, offering residents and guests a serene backdrop for morning walks and reflective moments.

Sleep City in Texas is more than just a destination; it's a lifestyle centered around the art of a good night's sleep. In a world that often moves at an unforgiving pace, this enchanting city stands as a beacon of tranquility, inviting all to embrace the restorative power of a peaceful night's rest. So, whether you're a weary traveler seeking refuge or a local in search of a harmonious haven, Sleep City welcomes you to a world where dreams are not just imagined but lived.

For more info:-

sleep city tx

[marengohospitals]

Unveiling the Expertise: Polysomnography Doctors in Faridabad

Are you struggling with sleep disorders and seeking the expertise of a polysomnography doctor in Faridabad? Look no further! In this comprehensive guide, we'll delve into the world of polysomnography, Faridabad's renowned sleep specialists, and everything you need to know to regain your peaceful slumber.

Understanding Polysomnography

Before we dive into the details of finding the perfect doctor, let's unravel the mystery of polysomnography itself.

What is Polysomnography?

Polysomnography, often referred to as a sleep study, is a specialized medical test that monitors various physiological factors during sleep. These factors include brain activity, eye movement, heart rate, and more.

Why is Polysomnography Essential?

Discover why polysomnography is crucial for diagnosing and treating sleep disorders.

The Role of a Polysomnography Doctor

Now that you're familiar with polysomnography, let's explore the key responsibilities of a polysomnography doctor.

Identifying Sleep Disorders

Learn how these specialists can pinpoint various sleep disorders like sleep apnea, insomnia, and narcolepsy.

Tailored Treatment Plans

Discover how polysomnography doctors create personalized treatment plans for their patients, ensuring a good night's sleep.

Finding the Right Polysomnography Doctor in Faridabad

The search for the perfect polysomnography doctor begins. Here's your step-by-step guide.

Research and Referrals

Unearth the importance of research and seeking referrals from friends, family, or your primary care physician.

Credentials Matter

Understand the significance of checking a doctor's credentials, certifications, and experience.

Consultation and Compatibility

Learn how to schedule consultations to assess compatibility and comfort with your chosen doctor.

Cost and Insurance

Get insights into understanding the costs associated with polysomnography and insurance coverage.

Patient Reviews and Testimonials

Explore the power of patient reviews and testimonials in making an informed decision.

Preparing for Your Polysomnography

Now that you've found your doctor, it's time to prepare for your polysomnography. Here's what to expect.

The Sleep Study Procedure

Get a detailed overview of what happens during a polysomnography test.

What to Bring

Find out what you need to bring to ensure a smooth and stress-free experience.

The Importance of Follow-Up

Your polysomnography journey doesn't end with the test. Discover why follow-up appointments are crucial.

Conclusion

In Faridabad, polysomnography doctors are your allies in the battle against sleep disorders. With their expertise and your commitment, restful nights are within reach.

And now, let's address some common queries:

FAQs

1. How long does a polysomnography test take?

A polysomnography test typically lasts overnight and may take around 7-9 hours.

2. Is polysomnography safe?

Yes, polysomnography is considered a safe and non-invasive diagnostic tool for sleep disorders.

3. Can children undergo polysomnography?

Yes, children can undergo polysomnography if their pediatrician recommends it to diagnose sleep-related issues.

4. Are there any side effects of polysomnography?

There are no significant side effects associated with polysomnography. Some individuals may experience mild discomfort from the sensors and wires.

5. Will I be able to sleep during the test?

Many patients do manage to sleep during the test, as the goal is to recreate a typical night's sleep.

6. How do I choose the best polysomnography doctor in Faridabad?

Choosing the right doctor involves researching credentials, seeking referrals, and assessing compatibility during consultations.

7. Can polysomnography diagnose all sleep disorders?

Polysomnography is a versatile tool and can diagnose various sleep disorders, but some conditions may require additional tests.

8. What happens after the polysomnography test?

Your doctor will review the results with you, discuss treatment options if needed, and provide guidance for better sleep.

#Polysomnography doctor in Faridabad #healthcare #polysomnography

[meh-papuh]

Chapter 18: Midnight Revelations

The grand social gathering had drawn to a close, its echoes fading into the night as guests dispersed, their laughter dissipating with each departing step. The weight of the evening's events and the whirlwind of emotions had taken their toll on Juliet. Fatigue draped over her like a heavy cloak, urging her toward the solace of her bed.

Entering her room, Juliet succumbed to the overwhelming exhaustion, neglecting her usual routine. She forgot to request her maids to prepare her nightgown and even skipped supper altogether. With a weariness that permeated her very being, she collapsed onto her bed, its softness cradling her like a gentle embrace. In the arms of sleep, she succumbed to its gentle embrace and surrendered to a deep slumber.

---

In the drawing room, Lady Capulet sat before an easel, endeavoring to capture her husband's likeness on the canvas. However, Lord Capulet seemed afflicted by a persistent bout of sneezes, interrupting the tranquility of the room. Frustration etched itself across Lady Capulet's face as she cast an exasperated glance at her husband, well aware that his sneezing fits were nothing more than deliberate attempts to evade the portrait session.

Just as Lord Capulet reached for a handkerchief to stifle yet another sneeze, Tybalt burst into the drawing room, his anger palpable. Lady Capulet's gaze shifted from her husband to her nephew, anticipating the cause of his turmoil. Lord Capulet, ever the composed figurehead of the family, calmly inquired about the source of Tybalt's rage.

Tybalt, his voice a mixture of frustration and demand, confronted his uncle. "Uncle, do you know that Romeo Montague was present at the Gavias' gathering? It is an insolence! The Gavias wish to marry their dull firstborn to Juliet, and yet they allow the Montague scoundrel to infiltrate their midst."

Lord Capulet, his voice steady and composed, responded, "Romeo was not invited, Tybalt. It appears he must have accompanied one of his cousins who received the invitation. Furthermore, even if the Gavias have intentions for Juliet and Paris, it would be ill-mannered to dismiss the future head of the Montague family from their gathering."

Tybalt's anger smoldered, his resentment for his uncle's perceived inaction simmering beneath the surface. The memory of Romeo's audacious intrusion at the Capulets' ball still rankled within him, and he grappled with reconciling his uncle's calm disposition with his own burning desire for retribution.

Sensing Tybalt's lingering discontent, Lord Capulet reached out to quell his nephew's anger. "Tybalt, my dear nephew, I understand your frustration. But we must tread carefully in these times of fragile peace. Our actions carry consequences that can ripple through Verona. Be patient, for there will come a time when justice will be served. But it must be pursued with wisdom."

Tybalt's gaze hardened, his resolve unyielding. While he respected his uncle, an unquenchable fire burned within him, demanding immediate action. With a curt nod, he left the drawing room, his mind consumed by thoughts of vengeance.

In the hushed embrace of the night, secrets and tensions intertwined as Juliet slumbered, oblivious to the conversations and brewing conflicts that continued to shape her world. Fate moved its pieces, quietly setting the stage for what lay ahead.

Chapter 18 concluded.

Previous/ Next

#romeo and juliet #romio&juliett #ah to forgot to tell your maids to prepare the night gown #Juliet must have been pretty tired if she just passed out with her full ball gown and her hair done

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Sins of the Savior

Silverwing26

Summary:

Sebastian works tirelessly to fulfill his young master's orders, all the while bitterness gnaws him inside out. Meanwhile, Ciel prepares his final farewells for his staff, fiancee' and the very name of Phantomhive. The master strategist will be forced to think on his feet and maneuver his pieces carefully though if he wishes to get his opponent into Check before he himself is outmaneuvered.

Notes:

A bit of a remastering of the last episode of season 2. My version of what might have happened were we given a bit more time.

Work Text:

Sleep had been illusive. Ciel Phantomhive lay within a sea of silk sheets and goose down comforters. His eyes remained gently closed, giving the illusion of peaceful slumber while his mind worked away at itself. This is how it had always been, ever since that day. The young Earl's face was always a mask. The world outside of his head would know of him only what he wished them to know. Since that day, Ciel had perfected the mask; his pale and noble features conveyed a stoic strength and calculating ruthlessness. Even when the young Earl smiled, it was not the earnest smile of a child, but that of an imp - mischievous and mocking. These unchanging noble notions remained on his face at all times. They prevented anyone from seeing what truly blazed deep within the cold exterior of Ciel Phantomhive.

Rage and a singular purpose tore at his beating heart and pulled mercilessly at the tenuous, bitter strings of his sanity. His own vendetta - coupled with the responsibilities shackled to him by the name Phantomhive - left him bereft of all things but a burning hatred and cold, unrelenting sense of duty. Revenge was a loathsome beast and as its master, he was driven down a path where few others dared tread. His was a solitary existence, filled with precious little of consequence. Of course there were his pawns to be manipulated and skillfully positioned into place. There were also the few people he tolerated who were of no tactical advantage, but the emotional void where he lived his life and protected his sanity left little room for more than a passing feeling of attachment. This was a path he walked alone, keeping all others at a distance. Ciel Phantomhive had lost too much already.

Ciel heard the familiar, distinct sound of the door to his bed chamber being opened. He remained motionless, but the change in the room guided his thoughts in a new direction. There was a fallacy in his thinking. He was never truly alone. There was one man who had been by his side since that day. It was the presence of this one constant in his life that allowed him to construct the solid walls around his heart and his psyche. Whenever Ciel would picture himself, he realized he never did so alone. There behind him, wreathed in shadows and with eyes the color of rubies, stood the one, only, and final thing he could rely on. It was the same man who had expertly wheeled a tea cart into the room and was now silently crossing the chamber towards the windows. His butler. His demon.

The thick heavy drapes slid open, allowing sunlight to pool on the young Earl's face. With deft movements, the butler adjusted the curtain tie and turned to face his master's bed. "Good morning, Young Master."

The demon butler, Sebastian Michaelis, entered the room in the same way he did each and every morning. He wheeled the cart to the exact same spot as usual and walked the same number of steps to the window. He stood in the position he always had before uttering the words Ciel woke to each morning for the last three years. Today something was different.

Ciel opened his eyes and as usual, with the sun shining brightly behind Sebastian, the only discernible features of the butler's face were those glowing eyes. The boy sat himself up in bed and stared intently at his demon. Sebastian's uniform was the same; impeccable, black, and formally cut. His posture was the same; perfectly straight adding to his already imposing stature. The bangs of his raven hair still fell across his face as they always had and as he moved to begin dressing the young master, his movements were as fluid as they always were. Yet, something was somehow out of place.

Sebastian flipped the tea timer, and the sand began pouring through the tiny hour glass. His hands, gloved in white silk, efficiently removed the young lord's night shirt and folded it before setting it aside. With graceful, practiced movements, he slipped the new shirt onto the boy's body and fastened the buttons one after another. The butler silently finished dressing the Earl in his vest, short trousers and stockings. Sebastian picked up the black ribbon from the bed beside the boy and draped it around his slender neck. Within a moment, the butler had tied a crisp bow that settled smartly against Ciel's throat. He hesitated for a heartbeat and then looked up into the Young Master's face.

One demonic eye with its slitted pupil and hellfire blazing in the iris stared back at him. One single thought blazed its way through the butler's mind, the fire in his master's eyes searing it there like a brand. 'Some things will never be the same.'

It was then Ciel realized what was setting him on edge. The thing that was different and had been eluding him had finally made itself clear. Sebastian's voice held no mockery; no geniality at all, in fact. When he spoke, his lips were settled into a small frown, the serpentine smirk on his face hauntingly absent. Ciel looked down at the butler's hands, still holding the bow and then slowly turned his piercing gaze on his butler's face. "Would you like to tie that tighter?" he asked a bit coolly.

Again, there was a moment of hesitation as Sebastian stared into Ciel's demonic eye. "No," he said before turning his head away and rising from his knees. "Today's tea is New Moon Drop," Sebastian informed the Young Master as he poured the tea, strained it, and then handed the cup to the young man. It was another gesture that seemed normal, but the subtle differences stood out to Ciel and made his skin prickle.

"It smells quite good," he admitted as he took the cup. Yes, it smelled lovely, but was also new and unfamiliar to him. It teased his new heightened senses in a way that he was not accustomed to. His nose delighted in the drink and the liquid was hot against his lips, but the strange brew had no earthly appearance at all. He lifted one foot as he sipped from the delicate china cup. Sebastian had returned to his knees and was slipping one tall boot on for his master. He closed the buttons that traveled from ankle to knee and them moved onto the other boot.

"What is my schedule for the day?" the new demon asked, another parody of normalcy.

The somber butler got to his feet before replying, "Completely open, Young Master."

It was another stark difference; there were no meetings that he needed to attend, no lessons to be mastered today, and there were no missions to devote himself to. Yes, today things were different, but somewhere deep inside of himself, Ciel felt without these constants, these facades of normalcy, what was left of his reality would come crashing down around him. He turned his one visible eye on his butler standing near the foot of his bed. The man's hands hung by his sides just as usual. But unlike every other day, he stood waiting with no immediate task at hand. Ciel's eye, now blue and cold once more, traced the demon's face, which was surprisingly unguarded. Sebastian was not rushing off to see to breakfast. He had not regaled Ciel with today's menu. He was not ushering the young lord to the dining table. 'Different...' Ciel thought to himself, the word bouncing tentatively inside his head.

Different he supposed, might not be a burden. Wasn't he himself different now? He was still adjusting to the loss of his humanity. He had spent more time than not simply thinking. That itself was not new, but the subject was. These thoughts were interrupted by a reserved, polite knock at his door. "Enter," he replied.

The bespectacled maid opened the door and stepped inside. She cast a nervous look between her master and the head butler. "M...m...master, Lady Elizabeth is here." She prepared herself for the young lord's displeased reaction. He didn't enjoy anyone dropping by the mansion unannounced, and Lady Elizabeth was no exception. Secretly, the maid felt the bit of chaos the girl brought into her master's life was probably to his benefit. But she, like all the servants, was keenly aware of what a handful the young Lady was. Something was different today, the irritation she expected to receive from her master never came.

"Alright," he said, handing his cup and saucer to Sebastian without looking at him. "Inform her that I shall be receiving her shortly."

Mei-Rin curtsied in her nervous, clumsy way before backing out of the room and closing the door.

Sebastian, the perfect butler, received the cup and placed it on the tea cart with one graceful motion. As his master spoke, he retrieved the final piece of the handsome suit, the young lord's jacket. He noted the way Ciel's voice lacked its pained heaviness, no longer adding weight and severity to his commands. He helped the boy slip into the vestment and expertly did the buttons up, just as he did every morning.

"Have the preparations for this afternoon been taken care of?" the Earl asked as he allowed his butler to finish dressing him.

"Yes, my Lord. I will be departing shortly to handle the final affairs."

"The servants?"

"Tanaka has been informed, Sir. He will ensure a smooth transition..."

"The other three do not know, correct?"

"Correct, my Lord, though they suspect."

"That is different."

"Yes."

Ciel Phantomhive slid himself from the edge of his bed and landed lightly on his feet. He strode to the door to head downstairs and greet his fiancée. "I shall set my own schedule for the day." Those were the words leaving his lips as he exited the room, leaving Sebastian to his tasks.

Sebastian somberly watched his young master exit the room. His appraising gaze slid from the boy's back to the bedside table. The reflection of one gold crested ring and one ring featuring a lavish blue diamond flickered through the calm, blank pools of Sebastian's eyes. He gathered the tea cart and pushed it out of the room. His mind danced backwards through three years of memories and confirmed what he already knew. It was the first time his young Lord had left his chamber without the rings of Phantomhive. "The shackles are truly falling away I see..." The sentiment was tinged with bitterness as he made his way towards the kitchens to have a word with Bard and Finny.

"I have some business to attend to..." That was all the flawless butler would offer in the way of an explanation. Sebastian informed them he was leaving care of the young Master and his fiancée in their hands. He warned them to be polite and to not upset Miss Elizabeth. "The young Master does not wish to be disturbed while he entertains Lady Elizabeth. See you stay out from under foot unless he summons you," Sebastian instructed them. Without further explanation, the butler was gone.

Finny and Bard cast each other a sideways glance. Confusion was openly swimming its way across Finny's innocent features. The shadows of Bard's concern, by contrast, were darkening his eyes and making him appear much older than he actually was.

Mei-Rin had stumbled her way down the main staircase after leaving her master's room. Something was amiss. She was sure of it. If only whatever it was was not right in front of her. She found she had a much better perspective on things from a distance. Now was not the time for such thoughts though, she reminded herself. She needed to show young Miss Elizabeth to the parlor to wait for young Master Ciel.

Elizabeth clasped her delicate, gloved hands together as she waited, somewhat impatiently, for Ciel. Just like normal, she arrived and flounced into the Phantomhive manor, adorned in curls, lace and frills. She was the very image of feminine youth, an image she strove hard for. As usual, she chattered on to Mei-Rin about what an adorable outfit she saw in London or how cute the maid would look without her massive round spectacles. Today was different, though. Elizabeth practically vibrated with excitement. Ciel had sent for her. He wanted her to come. Since the day he had returned to her those three years ago, he had never sent for her. Ciel just no longer cared for company. She often thought the loneliness he must feel should be slowly killing him and she struggled constantly to try and reunite his smile with his lips. It was a sight she loved so dearly that the absence of it made her ache dully inside when she saw him.

Ciel walked down the grand staircase leading to his foyer. His hand slid down the polished banister and Ciel wondered if he had ever truly felt it before. It was smooth, unmarred, and cool to the touch. It was much like he often appeared to be, he supposed. His eye registered movement just before he reached the bottom of the staircase. Elizabeth had seen him descending from the East Wing and ran from the parlor to meet him.

"Ciiiiiieeeeeel!" she squeaked as her shoes echoed across the marble of the entry way.

Ciel's foot had just come off the bottom step when he found himself enveloped in her arms. "Lizzie," he managed to croak out, "I can't... breathe." Ciel found she smelled faintly of roses and the force of her embrace sent him turning in circles briefly as she clung to him. When Lizzie pulled away from him, he felt the sensation of the frills on her skirt brushing against his knees. He straightened himself as a thought passed through his mind. 'Just as it has all happened before... but now...'

000

Foul-smelling smoke clung to the butler as he walked through the opium laden den. It rolled across his chest and then billowed behind him in foggy grey swirls. He locked eyes on the Chinese man sitting with one leg crossed over the other on a plush couch perched on a dais. Lau sensed the butler's approach and his little tigress of a bodyguard raised her head from his lap. Ran Mao leapt from the couch with a grace and speed that could almost rival Sebastian's and aimed a powerful kick at the demon's face. Lau, in a rare event, opened his eyes fully and with a firm and gentle tone called his tigress off. The last time there had been a confrontation between them all, an inspector lay dead, Ran Mao had been badly beaten, and Lau had received a near fatal would. Had Sebastian decided to kill them, there would be no question about his success. Sebastian, nonplussed, looked past her and began to inform them his master would be leaving London, not to return for a long while. The butler kept his eyes on Lau.

"He is leaving, is he? I shall miss him, but I did what you asked of me. So we are even now." Lau continued to sit completely at ease, with his noxious pipe billowing filth into the air, and his eyes no longer visible.

Sebastian handed a beautiful black box, wrapped with a striped ribbon and decorated with a large bow, to Ran Mao. "Yes. This is a token of our appreciation." He arched a brow as he continued. "My master has also sent a message." Sebastian cleared his throat. "I thought about killing you, but it was too much trouble. Live as you please, but stay out of my sight."

Ran Mao returned to Lau and handed him the box. She crouched by his feet and laid her languid body along his leg that was planted on the floor. The Chinese man placed the box in his lap and rested his hand on his Tigress' head. "Oh, so the young Lord's memory returned, eh?" A smile touched his words as he spoke and he looked down at Ran Mao as he stroked her hair gently. "That is a happy ending, don't you agree, Ran Mao? The Earl is leaving London; where is he going?" Lau asked, but when he lifted his face, Sebastian had vanished, leaving only the dumbstruck look on the Chinese man's face as evidence he was ever there at all.

000

Elizabeth sighed happily as she relinquished hold of Ciel's neck. "I've missed you so much!" she practically chirped. Her expression grew dour as her green wide eyes took in the image of her fiancée standing before her. He was dressed entirely in black and grey from his silk eye patch to his finely crafted boots. "CIEL!" she barked. Her voice could drop surprisingly low on occasion. "Those clothes aren't cute at all! What are you wearing those awful things for?"

Ciel registered surprise for a moment. He had clearly forgotten how forceful she could be. Elizabeth was affronted when anything 'not cute' had the audacity to assault her senses. That was the same each time Lizzie visited. His lips curled into a strange little grin as he realized he was not nearly as irritated as he would otherwise be. No, today, that was simply different. "No, I suppose they aren't," he replied as he looked down at himself. "Maybe I will change them later on." He registered the look of bewilderment on Lizzie's face.

"Later on?" she asked.

Ciel's face blossomed into a full smile as he held out a hand to her. "Yes, it wouldn't be the first time I have done such a thing, would it? May I have this dance, My Lady?"

Elizabeth stared at his hand in disbelief. Her mind momentarily hung up, wondering why Ciel had let his finger nails be painted black to match the appalling outfit. Her heart however was hammering fiercely in her chest, screaming at her to clasp the hand being offered to her. He had only asked her to dance once before and she had practically forced him into it then. Still, he had asked her to dance with a smile on his face even after she had destroyed his most prized family heirloom. Now here he was, asking her to join him of his own volition. Tears sprang to her eyes as she placed her hand in his. "I would love to!" She was only barely aware of Mei-Rin starting the gramophone before disappearing into the dining area.

000

Sebastian shifted his hold on a black box as he arrived at an extremely stately, very familiar townhouse. He debated for a moment letting himself in. It did in fact belong to his master after all, but he was here in an official capacity, so he thought formality was the rule to abide by. He pulled the chain beside the door and heard the bell ring inside. As expected, within a few moments, Agni, the highly capable butler for Prince Soma, opened the door. Delight registered on Agni's face. He had come to consider Sebastian a friend and Sebastian himself was forced to admit the white-haired butler's skills were admirable. Sebastian wore no joy on his face, forced or otherwise, and Agni frowned as he invited the Phantomhive butler inside.

"I've come with a message for you and your master," Sebastian informed him with a small bow.

Agni showed Sebastian to the parlor. It was mostly aesthetics and etiquette at this point as they were both aware Sebastian knew every inch of this house. Sebastian found the entire town house to smell lightly of curry as he entered. The scent intensified and became familiar as he entered the parlor. Sitting on a large silver platter resting on the side table was an enormous pile of curry buns. Sebastian arched his brow and then turned towards the doorway as he heard feet approaching.

Soma came bounding into the room. Honestly, he had almost as much exuberance as the young Lady Elizabeth. The main difference between then, Sebastian mused, was that Soma was actually slightly afraid of him.

"Ciel has a message for me? Where is he then? Why didn't he just come and say it himself?" The questions tumbled out of Prince Soma's mouth as Agni stood next to him with an amused smile.

"My Prince, perhaps if you let Mr. Sebastian speak, he will explain." Agni smiled apologetically at Sebastian while Soma placed his fists on his hips and waited.

Sebastian handed a beautiful black box to Agni. Both Agni and Soma admired the lavish bow and striped ribbon adorning the box before giving their full attention to Sebastian. The butler's eyes danced between the two men and then he cleared his throat. "My young Master will be leaving London for a while. He wishes to present you with this token to show our appreciation for all you have done. He wishes you to know of the value he placed on your friendship." Sebastian finished his speech with a bow. When he stood again, Soma was holding the box up to his face.

"No!" Soma shouted. "What do you mean going away? Take this back and let me see him!" Soma was shouting and confused tears were building in his eyes. Sebastian remained unmoving as the young prince raged. "I am going to go see him and find out what this is about! He can't just leave me. Come on, Agni!" The hurt was palpable in the boy's voice. Agni reached a hand out to stop Soma, but it was Sebastian's voice that brought him up short.

"Running off like a petulant child? Have you still learned nothing?" Sebastian's voice was dark and cutting. It was not the first time Soma had heard this tone come from the impeccable servant who could turn menacing surprisingly quickly.

Soma turned with an angry blush on his cheeks. His thoughts were dark and childish. 'How many times would this man find opportunity to scold me?'

"My master affords you the respect of someone far beyond you, in terms of maturity, as he says his farewells. Do not prove him wrong."

Soma returned to Agni's side. The white-haired butler took the box from Soma's hands and bowed deeply to Sebastian. "Please thank Master Ciel for us both." His voice was soft and tinged with emotion, but he was holding it in check.

Soma sighed deeply and, with all of the strength he could muster, nodded in acknowledgment to the Phantomhive butler. "I won't let him down... But you make him find me when he returns to London. I'm not a child and I have strength enough to wait until he returns."

Sebastian bowed deeply to the two men standing before him and then turned on his heel and let himself out. Agni was strongly reminded of a crow taking flight as Sebastian's coat tails flapped around his legs before he vanished through the doorway.

000

Ciel held Lizzie's gloved hand in his own. It fit just as it had the last time has asked her to dance. This time he marveled at the lightness of her touch, the warmth of her hand and the stark contrast between the black of his nails and the white of her glove. He supposed her hand had always felt thus, but today he noticed. His thoughts began to turn over in his head. It was his responsibility to ensure her well being, and to the best of his ability, a pleasant time. He was forever too occupied to realize all of her trivial and girlish trifling was an attempt to do the same for him. He owed Lizzie a proper farewell. They would dance, he would walk with her through the gardens, he would smile for her benefit, and he would send her on her way with a final kiss brushed across her knuckles.

000

The morning was marching slowly forward. It would be tea time soon. The demon checked his pocket watch to confirm the time and sighed. He wondered if the three useless servants would effectively tend to the young master and Miss Elizabeth. He supposed they would most likely manage to make a disaster out of his perfectly planned preparations. They usually did. He would have assigned Tanaka the duty of keeping them in line and respectable in front of their guest, but today things were a little different. Tanaka had been given a special task and as exacting as his master was, Sebastian was sure the task was demanding the steward's full attention.

The building he came to was dark and quiet. Sebastian opened the heavy door silently, and let himself in. The room was barren of windows, the only light filtering though the lattice work on the door. The Undertaker was an eccentric man at the best of times and Sebastian was running a bit further behind schedule than he would like. His eyes, smoldering dully, easily pierced the gloom. He looked between the shelves lined with bottles, jars, tinctures, and preserved body parts. He glanced behind the work table dominating one end of the room and Sebastian determined that Undertaker was indeed inside one of the coffins. He shook his head and then took a deep breath concentrating on the scents in the room.

His senses picked up the unmistakable signature of the Undertaker. The acrid scent of embalming fluid, the strangely floury bone biscuits he was fond of, and the still faint odor of the Shinigami library radiated from the coffin on the left side of the room. Sebastian silently slid the lid from the coffin on the right side of the room. The coffin was lined with a fine cloth, a worthy final resting place for a future customer. Sebastian placed the black box tied with a striped ribbon and topped with an elegant bow inside and closed the lid. The eccentric Undertaker who traded jokes and laughter for information would be amused by the little game, Sebastian was sure.

He rapped firmly on the lid of the coffin in which Undertaker was laying. The lid slid open and Undertaker popped his head out. His lopsided hat was in place on his head, and his vision obscured by long silver bangs. Undertaker's grin faltered upon finding an empty room. He parted the bangs from his face and looked closer. The raven-haired butler had already vanished. Undertaker watched the dust motes float through the air as if there had been a disturbance. When he looked down at the floor, he noticed a single set of footprints in the dust carefully moving from the door to one coffin and then the other before simply stopping, never making their way back out of the shop. The silver-haired old fool cackled wildly before sliding the second coffin's lid open.

000

'How strange it all was to be noticing these small things'. Ciel was losing himself in thought as he gently twirled Elizabeth around the foyer. 'Will it forever be this way, or shall I grow accustomed to it?' he mused silently to himself. The Earl of Phantomhive possessed a brilliant mind that never ceased its calculations, even when it had only mundane tasks to ponder. Now there were these... sensations... to deal with and his appearance to uphold.

Lizzie gasped. It was a small sound, but it echoed in his ears and brought his attention careening out of himself. Ciel had slipped. He felt it the moment before the sound left Elizabeth's lips.

Elizabeth could not remember having been happier in a long while. Ciel had come to rescue her after she had been kidnapped in London and that had been close. Though she had learned that he had been working a case as the Watchdog then. It lost a bit of the romance, she felt, to know he was also working. Ciel was being very quiet while they danced. The young Lady Elizabeth was quite used to this. When they were together, she would usually fill the silence between them with whatever she could think of to talk about. For once, she was afraid to break the silence. Whatever spell that had been cast that prompted her beloved to call her to him and was actually painting his face with a smile might be shattered if she opened her mouth. If this is what it took, patience, horrible clothing and black nails, it was a small price to pay to have Ciel back.

A light blush was dusting her cheeks and she tilted her head to look into Ciel's eye. The blue eye as deep and cold as the ocean that she expected to see was missing. Ciel was not looking at her; he was staring at their clasped hands. His eye... Was that truly his eye? The orb staring at her hand was crimson with a dark black slit in its center. A soft audible gasp left her lips. In that moment, taking a cue from the music, Ciel spun her around with him, two quick steps followed by a slow drawn-out one. Her voluminous curls bounced between them for the briefest of moments. Ciel looked at her, his blue eye shining and a gentle smile on his face as he asked her, "Is everything alright?"

Perhaps she had imagined it. Hardly anything at all today had gone the way she thought it would. She looked deep into the abyss of his eye but as usual was unable to read anything she saw there. She offered an unsure grin as she spoke. "Oh yes. Everything is fine."

It was not fine though. Elizabeth was unable to shake the feeling that the strange visage has been real. Her eyes settled on their clasped hands just as Ciel's had earlier. Her delicate brow furrowed. "Ciel," she began, "where is your ring?"

000

Sebastian removed the silver pocket watch from his waistcoat and consulted the time. He had made up all of the time lost with Soma and Agni by not having a direct confrontation with Undertaker. Fortunately, the Young Master did not have personal spoken messages for each recipient. He had one final delivery to make. This was the only one he really objected to preforming. However, a direct order would not be ignored. He simply was not keen on spending any more time in their company than was absolutely necessary.

He nodded to himself, deciding on the appropriate way to carry out the order. The master often required Sebastian preform his tasks as a human. However, Sebastian was one hell of a butler and knew when and how to best bend those rules which were not directly stipulated in the contract. This was usually the case when other supernatural beings were involved.

The time ticked relentlessly on and at one minute to 11:00 AM, he acted.

Grell Sutcliff was bored. He wasn't even sure why he was on this particular collection. Ronald and William had it well in hand. The man lying in the alley spilling his cinematic record to the sky had been no one special. William and Ronald were almost finished with its viewing and ready to stamp the list with 'Collected'.

"You should be watching this, Grell Sutcliff," William remarked coldly over his shoulder. "You are supposed to be reviewing a refresher on proper procedure while in the field." The cold-mannered brunette adjusted his spectacles as he observed the final frames of film.

Grell, the flamboyant red reaper with an appreciation for death that was only slightly less than psychotic when taking his profession into consideration, yawned loudly. He stretched his arms over his head and turned to face William and Ronald. Ronald held the death book open.

"11:00 AM, on the dot. Completed," he said.

"Ahem."

It was the sound of someone clearing their throat. It was resonating and cut over the sound of Ronald talking and the ambient London noise. That single deep, dulcet tone was unmistakable to Grell. Ronald and William simply turned to the alley entrance in response to the sound. Grell immediately broke into a sugary smile with jagged teeth. His cheeks deepened with blush as he clasped his hands beneath his chin. His high, vibrating voice trilled.

"Se...bas...chan!"

Grell turned quickly to the source of the sound. His eyes that had gone soft with affection behind his red spectacles widened with surprise.

The demon butler was nowhere to be found. Although disappointed, Grell had to admit that it would be strange for Sebastian to hang around three Grim Reapers, particularly when one of them was William. That would not have been as shocking as the sight that, in fact, did greet the three reapers. A polished round wooden table and three comfortable chairs had been placed in the alley way. Draped perfectly across the table was a spotless white tablecloth. In front of each chair sat a delicate china cup and saucer filled with steaming tea. A small silver pitcher contained cream and a matching bowl was heaped with sugar cubes. The three reapers glanced at each other to confirm the same confusion was written on all of their faces. When they looked back, all three pairs of bespectacled, shining green eyes were drawn to a beautiful black box in the center of the table. It was wrapped with a striped ribbon and topped with an elaborate bow.

Not a one of them moved at first, having no idea how to interpret this event. Grell overcame his stasis first and approached the table. He picked up one of the cups and his eyes softened with a memory.

"This is Phantomhive china," he said softly. He tasted the liquid, to protests from his superior. "Oh relax, William; what is he going to do? Poison us?" Grell regarded the box. "Sebastian made this tea. He really has become remarkable with human food."

William opened his mouth, but shut it again as Ronald pushed the To-Die List into his hands.

"Boss, they've given us an extra collection." The youngest reaper sounded perplexed.

William scanned his eyes over the page. He raised his head to look at the Red Reaper thoughtfully sipping the perfectly brewed tea. With one hand, William adjusted his glasses and with the other he held the list towards Grell.

"I believe you should handle this collection," he said coolly.

"Why me?!" Grell scowled. He was content to drink his tea and then discover what was in the box. William pushed the To-Die List into his hand. Grell glanced down at the page and then put the cup down and read the full entry.

"Oh... That's why."

000

Ciel was not a talented dancer. However, Sebastian was a harsh tutor and Ciel had gained some skill, albeit minimal. What he was exceptional at was calculating an advantage. His control slipped, true, but he needed only a brief moment to collect himself again. He would need to be less careless in the future. He followed Lizzie's gaze to his thumb, which looked naked without his blue family ring. She had clearly asked him where his ring was. Ciel clenched his teeth though he kept up his smile. 'Has she always been this observant?' he wondered. He tilted his head innocently as he spoke.

"Oh, I didn't put it on this morning."

She was staring at him incredulously and Ciel realized the answer to his silent question. 'Yes, she has. It's I who am different,' he thought. He was slipping again, he felt it. As she glared at him, he felt the first tinges of aggravation crawling up his spine. He should be able to control this situation, but there was just so much more to process constantly assaulting his senses and attacking his mind.

Elizabeth stopped dancing despite Ciel's attempts to continue to lead her. The waltz being played by the gramophone began to sound strange to her ears. The melody began to distort, grow sharp in places and take on a haunting macabre sound.

"The music sounds strange," she said softly and Ciel had the impression she was speaking more to herself than to him.

Lizzie looked down at herself and then at her fiancée. She could feel some emotion climbing over her skin, raising goosebumps with it. Ciel was speaking to her. She watched his lips as a way to bring herself back to the moment.

"Would you like to walk?" he asked, still holding her hand.

"No," she said more calmly than she felt.

No, this was entirely wrong, her mind screamed at her. Invitations, dancing, that strange look he gave her and the absence of his prized ring. She simply couldn't fathom that he would be without it by choice. The only time Ciel had ever truly been angry with her was over that ring. He had raised his hand in anger for the first and only time when she has dashed it against the cold marble they were standing on. The way he was looking at her now, all smiles and innocence, where had she seen that look before? The thought was ripping at her mind as if it was desperately important she remember. 'His ring...? How did he get it back? Oh yes, Sebastian had repaired it.' At least that is what Ciel had told her. Ciel's ring was a rare blue diamond caressed by silver with filigree next to the stone. How would a butler fix such a thing?

The butler. Sebastian. That is where she knew that look from. The tilt of the head and disarming smile belonged to him and not to her Ciel.

"No," she repeated. "I want you to tell me what is going on, Ciel." Her voice lacked its characteristic squeak but Ciel's now excellent hearing picked up the slight waiver hidden in the false strength.

000

The butler landed softly on his feet near the gardens. The young master had not made it outside yet which meant he was still in the main foyer. Sebastian headed towards the back of the manor where the servant entrance was located. His Lord did not want to be disturbed while he tended to Lady Elizabeth today. His slight frown darkened menacingly as his eyes slid to the side. There was an unwelcome, familiar scent drifting towards him, not to discount the gaze he felt drilling into his back.

000

Ciel regarded Elizabeth quizzically. "What do you mean?" he asked. His mind was beginning to shift. Now the dance was really beginning. Only this time there was no music and only words to lead with. Ciel had played this game before. He was the master of games. Whether it was played on a chess board or in the back alleys of London, it made no difference. He was always the king, and thus the last one standing. Well, he and his knight, he mentally corrected himself.

"I mean all of this!" Lizzie said a bit louder than she meant to as she took her hand back.

"I thought you would enjoy it," Ciel answered her back.

Elizabeth closed her eyes with a sigh. When she opened them, her voice was soft. The familiar high pitch was creeping back. "I enjoyed it. This isn't you though. Where are your rings? Why are you all smiles? Why do you seem so very different?" She squeaked with exasperation and Ciel realized he could taste her tears that hadn't yet begun to fall. "I've waited so long to see you smile again."

The young Earl Phantomhive placed one fist on his hip. He looked almost as he usually did with the exception of his missing rings and the walking stick he decided to go without. Was this really the same girl who fawned and cooed over him and bored him to death with talk of fashion? He could feel the determination floating off her like wisps of smoke. He noticed how her heart was beating faster than before and her hands clenched and unclenched in front of her.

Ciel smiled ruefully. This girl was changing the game. Very well. He could adapt. His objective remained the same. Ciel would provide an adequate and befitting farewell to his fiance. Then he would leave London and let her get on with her life.

"This is who I am now," he said calmly. He felt the chess pieces slowly moving across the board in his mind. "I told you already. I left my rings upstairs. Listen when people are talking to you." He smiled using a phrase he had said to her many times before.

Lizzie stamped her foot in frustration causing her skirts as well as curls to bounce. "But you would never..." She faltered. She could see him raising his hand to slap her in her mind's eye as she remembered breaking the ring, only to be stopped by Sebastian. Sebastian was always there... Why wasn't he here now?

"Things change," Ciel said interrupting her thoughts.

"Where is Sebastian?" she asked, looking into her fiancée's face.

"Sebastian? Why?" he countered. There. Her piece was moving across the board now. Her pieces gleamed white in his mind, while his own were darkly wreathed in shadows.

"Because he is always beside you, and now he is not. It's just all different," she replied coolly.

"Isn't that what you wanted, for things to change and go back to the way they were before?" He laughed. He didn't mean for it to sound cruel, but it was a cold, unpracticed sound. "Once you've lost something, Lizzie, you can never get it back."

"I got you back," she said softly, suddenly regretting this line of questioning.

Ciel furrowed his brow. He didn't want to hurt Elizabeth more than his leaving already would. This was becoming tiring, though. He looked over the black and white squares and changed tactics.

"Lizzie, just... just let me make you happy. For one brief, beautiful day, pretend you did get me back the way I was before I was lost, and let me make you smile." He held out his hand to her in a small bow, the other hand curled at the small of his back.

"Why should I?" she spat at him. The tears had begun to fall now. She grimaced at Ciel's pose. He was trying to placate her. He didn't do that for anyone. She recognized yet more of Sebastian peeking through the obscuring mist that clouded her view of Ciel Phantomhive. "When did you ever let me do that for you? So hard... I tried so hard." She cut herself off as she took a shuttering breath.

Ciel straightened himself and took her hand in his. He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off.

"Besides, when has it ever just been about today?" she asked angrily.

The young demon's senses were afire. He could not only taste her tears, but smell them as well. Her confusion and sadness were palpable and he could almost imagine it pooling around his boots. With a small frown, he realized this would be a much simpler farewell if he truly cared nothing for her. Her question jarred him and he practically growled his answer. The girl had no idea.

"ALWAYS. It has always been about TODAY and about yesterday. Since that day, it has never been about tomorrow or something as foolish as forever. For me, there has never been a TOMORROW. That was one luxury I could not afford."

000

Sebastian spun, his long coat tails flailing behind him and he launched a bouquet of knives from his hand as he did so. Grell Sutcliff raised his death scythe in front of his face just in time to block the barrage. He let out a startled cry and then growled at the demon.

"Why do you ALWAYS go for my face?!"

Sebastian smirked. "Familiarity breeds contempt, I believe is the phrase."

"Oh, Sebas-chan, you are so cruel," Grell purred as his yellow-green eyes glittered in the sunlight. He walked up to the demon and attempted to lay his head on Sebastian's shoulder. Sebastian produced a fist full of forks and pointed them directly at Grell's face.

"I do not think I shall miss at this distance," he intoned menacingly.

"I did hope you would feel like playing." Grell laughed giddily as his chainsaw roared to life loudly. Grell took a massive swing at Sebastian. The demon flipped over backward, planting one hand on the ground and launching several forks with the other. Grell didn't bother blocking this time. He darted out of the way using a tight spin. He swung his saw again, but Sebastian had recovered and blocked it with three knives he held between his knuckles. Both reaper and demon gritted their teeth with exertion as they pushed towards one another. Sparks jumped between them as the rotating blade scraped along the knives. They were exceptionally strong with excellent craftsmanship, Sebastian had seen to that, but they wouldn't hold indefinitely against a death scythe.

"I really do not have time for you. I am working," Sebastian growled.

"Are you? I was wondering. That was such a nice surprise you left us," he grunted. "I suppose that was the kid's order, then? Why?" Grell looked triumphant as he felt Sebastian fall back. However the demon executed a masterful turn dodging the blade. Grell fell forward past him. Sebastian landed a solid kick to the back of Grell's neck sending him flying. Grell knew what would happen next. He threw his hands in front of his face to protect it, but the blows never came. 'That's unusual,' he thought.

Sebastian looked at the prone reaper as he turned over. "You don't know why..." He trailed off. "Why are you here then?" Sebastian demanded.

Grell eyed the demon with mock shock. "I'm working, naturally. Why else would I be here?"

000

Elizabeth recoiled at his vehemence. She didn't fully understand, but the pieces were beginning to come together. This didn't make sense, yet. "There is always a tomorrow, Ciel."

Ciel dropped his head. He squeezed Lizzie's hand and then looked into her green eyes. He maneuvered his piece carefully as he chose his words. "No. Not for me. Not for the Phantomhives, and not for us." He watched his words sink into her. He watched the hurt and the bewilderment fight for dominance in her expression. Inside he steeled himself against her anguish. He made the hard choices and acted on them without hesitation. He always had. "For you Lizzie, there is a tomorrow. Cherish it," he said simply and ran his thumb over the back of her hand.

"This was to be a goodbye then?" she asked incredulously. Her other hand flew forward and slapped Ciel across the cheek. She stared in shock as he barely reacted even though his cheek was already reddening as blood rushed to the spot beneath the skin.

"Yes. One beautiful day to bid you a perfect farewell," Ciel said softly.

"Where will you go?" she questioned him.

"Away," he said and stopped her as she opened her mouth. "That is all I am going to say on that." He consulted his shadow wreathed chess pieces. 'Check,' he thought.

"Is Sebastian going with you?"

He wasn't prepared for the question. Ciel hesitated for a heartbeat weighing the option of lying versus telling her the truth. It was a moment too long.

"Take me with you too. I don't care where it is, just take me with you," Lizzie pleaded.

For the briefest of moments, Ciel paled. "No. You have no idea what you are asking," he replied solemnly.

Elizabeth curled both her fists up and pounded them on the young Earl's chest. "I cannot lose you again." The tears were falling once more, this time in piteous sobs. "Twice you have been ripped from my life. Twice I thought you dead. Twice you have come back to me." She yelled her next words and Ciel noted how her voice ascended and descended with her emotions. "Twice I died inside thinking I would never see you again. You can't do this to me, not again."

Ciel arched a brow at her conviction. 'She died inside?' he thought, not without pity. "You don't know the meaning of those words," he said stoically. He was slipping. He took a deep breath to collect himself and study the board in his mind. Her castle blocked his way. The stubborn, stubborn walls of her love were interfering with his king.

"I don't know the meaning? I won't survive if you leave me again." Elizabeth leveled her gaze and with all her resolution stared into the deep blue abyss of Ciel's eye. "I promise you."

Ciel's smile slipped from his face. He took her firmly by the elbows and searched through the green pools of her eyes. Her emotions, all of them, were unabashedly showing. Her entire face was open to him and what he saw there tightened a rope around his intestines. Or rather, what he did not see. There was no hesitation. He knew this look very well. She was deadly serious. "Lizzie..." he started.

"You intend to leave, to go where you won't allow me to follow. You do not get to tell me what I can and cannot do," she yelled and her words were barbed and vicious.

Ciel grimaced. He could not let that happen. His duty was to keep this girl safe. His duty was, to the best of his ability, to ensure her happiness. He had made the decision to sacrifice the remaining smiles of this day so that she would be free to find happiness in all the days ahead of her. His mind was spread thin today. It was a sensation he was unused to. She had outmaneuvered him temporarily. He slid his pieces into place once more. This game had just become more serious than he had imagined.

"Do you realize what is at stake? Do you have any idea at all what you are proposing?" Ciel squeezed her elbows as he spoke willing her to understand.

"Peace," she said, tears dripping down her cheeks.

"Peace?!" he practically screamed at her. "There is no peace." He squeezed her so forcefully that he was sure he was leaving bruises on her arms. Suicide? That was a mortal sin. She would be no better off than he was, damned to lose his soul, and then cursed to keep it. Ciel might have turned his back on the faith long ago, but this girl still had a chance. At least he, Ciel, had entered into his deal fully aware and never expecting something as ridiculous and unattainable as peace.

His mind raced back to an earlier time and he quickly shut his eye feeling his control slip. He remembered the pain and the humiliation carved into his body, and the cold stone at his back. When Ciel opened his mouth again, familiar words poured out of it raising bumps on his flesh. "If you even once, reject the faith, you can never pass through the gates of Heaven. I'll ask you one more time. Do you intend to follow through on your threat?" he waited, hanging on her words. She was proving a difficult girl to protect.

Elizabeth wrenched her arms free from Ciel's grasp. She wiped her face with one gloved hand. The other she rested on her fiancée's cheek, the one she had slapped earlier. Her words were soft and sad, and final. "It was not a threat. It was a promise."

Ciel's shoulders sagged for a moment. He closed his eyes and his voice sounded heavy and weary. As he spoke, he slipped the silk eye-patch from his face and it dropped to the ground. "I have come to learn the value of souls. I will ensure yours finds peace."

Checkmate...

Ciel Phantomhive's hand wrapped around her throat with speed that surprised even himself. He was struck by how slender it was. His eyes flew open to stare at her startled face.

"C...C...i...e...l, I...love...you..." she choked out through tears as the boy with a slit for a pupil and hellfire in his irises stared back at her.

'I know,' he thought bitterly, 'and I am sorry.' Ciel gritted his teeth in concentration. There must be no marks on her tender flesh. She would be appalled at her appearance if ugly bruises circled her neck for her final viewing. The caustic truth rose with his bile and coated the back of his tongue. The shackles of responsibility, of being Ciel Phantomhive, would not fall away as easily as he had hoped.

000

Sebastian looked up at the house with a frown. "Working..." he repeated and leapt over Grell as he hurried towards the manor. Grell scrambled to his feet, grabbed his death scythe and checked his watch. His expression turned to panic. He had mucked about too long. If he wasn't careful, he was going to be late. He took off at a run after the delicious demon.

Grell caught up to Sebastian in the kitchen. The servants were all trying to talk at once. The butler raised his hand to silence them, but Finnian wouldn't be contained. "But Mr. Sebastian, Master and Lady Elizabeth are fighting!"

Sebastian was already halfway through the doorway with his words echoing behind him. "All of you outside. NOW, if you please."

Grell followed Sebastian through the Phantomhive manor. This was proving to be an odd day indeed.

The butler came sliding to a halt as he entered the foyer. His young master had the Lady Elizabeth by the throat and dangling a few inches above the ground. The uncontrolled power was wafting off the boy in thick, shadowy tendrils that were curling around his legs. Grell came hurrying after Sebastian. He moved to pass the demon, but Sebastian was fast and ready for him. With a pointed jab at Grell's arm, it dropped to his side limply. Sebastian grabbed the reaper and wrenched his arm painfully behind his back, making movement impossible.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes and stared at his Lord. His thoughts were as dark as his current mood. 'That was rash, Master. I would not have thought the hunger to have gripped you so soon.'

000

Ciel heard footsteps approaching, but he felt Sebastian's presence and thus he never moved. In his mind, his shadow wreathed king closed in. Ciel Phantomhive was the master of games. Ciel Phantomhive did not hesitate. Ciel Phantomhive now strangled his fiancée to protect her immortal soul. The young demon was not sure at all if he wanted to be Ciel Phantomhive any longer.

Elizabeth may have made a choice, but her soul wasn't ready to comply. As her life began to leave her, she clawed at Ciel's hands. Her feet kicked uselessly in the air and when she heard people approach, she attempted a sound. Before her vision swam and faded, she realized it was Sebastian and no help would come. Oddly, her last conscious thought was that at least Ciel would not be alone, never alone.

Ciel tightened his grip as she struggled. He called upon his new found power, though it was draining him quickly and he wasn't sure how to control it. 'Yes. Fight me. Struggle. Prove you haven't accepted this cursed devil's way out. I will not allow you to share this fate.'

It was several tense minutes later that Ciel's strength began to fade. He gently lowered her lifeless body to the ground and knelt on one knee beside her. He took her hand in his and lightly brushed his last kiss across the back of her knuckles before he stood again.

"Expertly done, Young Master," the demon commented from behind him. "Go on and take it. The reaper will not interfere and you are now surely drained." Sebastian's voice was still as dull and cold as it had been all day.

"Let him go, Sebastian," Ciel stated.

Sebastian arched a brow. "Master, I..."

"It is an ORDER," Ciel concluded.

"Yes, My Lord," Sebastian replied and released Grell.

The Reaper checked the time. Precisely to the minute, 'Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford, strangled by her fiancée. He tentatively approached the body, unsure of precisely what he was witnessing. Things had clearly changed for the Phantomhive brat.

"Young Master," Sebastian called.

Ciel stopped, his back straight, but not turning to face his demon.

"Why did you not take it? Are you, in fact, sentimental?" the demon mocked him and ironically it made Ciel smile slightly to hear some emotion in the demon's voice.

"That is not why I did this," Ciel responded.

"Then why, Master? Why did you kill her if not for her soul?" his butler questioned.

"That is exactly why I did it. For her soul." Ciel turned to face his demon. His blue eye was blazing defiantly despite the effort it took at the moment to hold himself together. "This was my last act of duty to the house of Midford." Ciel's voice rang cold, clear and cruel through the foyer. Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

Sebastian's eyes widened with surprise. The vehemence rolled off the boy, the pride curled around him like a mantle, and the hatred for his own cursed name rose from his skin in fragrant waves. Something twisted inside the demon, though it was the young Earl's voice that drew a serpentine smile to Sebastian's lips. He hadn't expected that. The demon bowed his head to his departing master, marveling at how the boy could still surprise him. 'Oh, so you are still in there, Young Master?' the demon thought. His eyes blazed and turned to slits for a moment as he chuckled to himself. "And some things... will always remain the same."

000

Epilogue

Sebastian stood over Grell Sutcliff, watching the final moments of Lady Elizabeth's life play out. He rested a curled finger thoughtfully against his bottom lip as he studied his young master in her record. Grell sliced the record cleanly free and updated the To-Die List before standing to face Sebastian.

"You can make a clean job of it when you want to, I see," the demon chided darkly.

Grell tossed his head back with mock indignation. "Well I am a professional, you know." He cleared his throat and pointed in the direction Ciel had walked off. "So he..." He trailed off and then pointed a finger at Sebastian. The demon butler remained silent and stared back at the Red Reaper. "That's interesting," Grell concluded. "AND frustrating. Now I'll never get that damn kid's cinematic record!" Grell stomped a foot and marched out the front doors of the manor. "Until next time, Sebas-chan!" he cooed and blew an exaggerated kiss over his shoulder.

Sebastian grimaced with revulsion before turning his attention to the still body on the foyer floor. He scooped her gently into his arms and began climbing the massive staircase. He studied his master's handiwork as he did so. 'Well done, Master. Hardly a mark,' he thought to himself, noting only the slight blushing around her slender throat. The Young Lord was learning faster than anticipated.

'I have never run across a soul such as his. He is adapting to his new strengths on instinct, it would seem. I should not be surprised, really. To him, this must simply be another game.' The butler was drawn from his thoughts upon arriving outside an elegant guest room.

It was a lavish room, as were all of the guest rooms in the Phantomhive Manor. This one, however, was decorated in pale lavender and creamy pinks. Paintings of flowers adorned the walls along with several landscapes of the Phantomhive gardens. This was the room Elizabeth preferred when she stayed. The demon gently laid her still body on the massive bed. Sebastian removed her bonnet and arranged her head on the pillow. He clasped her hands together and gently placed them on her stomach. He nodded with satisfaction. 'She looks peacefully asleep,' he thought before he turned sharply and silently left the room.

000

There was a polite knock at the door. Ciel lifted his head from the fist it had been resting on as he sat in his spacious chair behind a rich mahogany desk. "Enter," he said, and laced his fingers together before settling them on his desk. The elderly steward stepped into the room, bowed to the young lord, and then closed the door behind himself. He wore a polite smile and the sun coming through the windows reflected brightly off his monocle.

"Tanaka, has everything been arranged?" Ciel asked his steward.

"Nearly, Sir. There are the final papers that require your signature and your seal," he responded as always with a soft caring voice.

"Oh yes, my crest," he said running a finger over the bare spot his crest ring normally occupied. Ciel shook his head, recalling how much trouble had come his way since neglecting to wear the rings of Phantomhive this morning.

Tanaka crossed to his master's desk and deposited a stack of papers down in front of Ciel. On top of the stack sat his crest ring.

"Efficient as always," Ciel replied, slipping the ring on and beginning to sort through the paperwork.

"Sebastian," Tanaka chuckled. "He handed your ring to me in the hallway just now."

Ciel rolled his eye and over the next hour read over each document. He inked his signature and applied his seal where necessary. Finally he looked up, satisfied. "This will transfer sole proprietorship of Funtom company. These place the house and grounds in trust to the servants of Phantomhive, and finally, this one bequeaths my London townhouse to Prince Soma Asman Kadar."

He handed the documents to Tanaka. Ciel Phantomhive slipped the ring from his hand once more and dropped it into Tanaka's hand. "You will ensure these are handled properly and my orders carried out." It wasn't a question, but it also wasn't said unkindly.

"Of course, my Lord." Tanaka bowed deeply and when he rose there was a wetness shining in his eyes and his smile faltered. He held a book out to his young master.

Ciel shook his head. "Keep it. I know everything I need to. Perhaps more than I need. It will do you more good than it will me." He leaned back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other and closed his eyes.

"Yes, my Young Lord." Tanaka let himself out of the study.

000

Mei-Rin, Bard, and Finny stood outside the Phantomhive manor alongside a black carriage. The dour expressions worn on their three faces didn't begin to express the turmoil rolling inside each of them. Mei-Rin was desperately wrinkling her white apron as she clenched it in her fists to stop herself from crying. Finnian had lost the battle with his tears and they silently slid down his face. Bard's expression was hard, his jaw clenched while he draped one arm around Finny's shoulders.

000

The light in the kitchen was soft and muted. "Tanaka?" the butler's voice called. Tanaka rose from where he kneeled and walked to the demon hovering in the shadows of the doorway. Sebastian placed something in the steward's hand with a small bow and then left to fetch his master. Tanaka closed his hand around the small object and then stared into his tea cup with a heavy heart.

"How many times will I witness the end of the Earl of Phantomhive?"

000

Ciel stood in the doorway of the Phantomhive manor. He noted with some amusement that he was already ceasing to think of it as his manor. With measured, precise steps, he descended toward the coach. Click. He heard it, deep in his mind. Shackles were unlocking that had been holding him captive from his birth. He found he didn't need to put quite so much effort into standing tall and proud. Clank. The sensation of his responsibilities falling around his feet was almost euphoric. Ciel could feel the demon smirking as he followed a few steps behind. He found on this occasion that he didn't much care. He reached the coach and took a deep resonating breath. With the expansion of his lungs, he felt the tight collar he had worn for three years rip free and scatter on the wind. The young demon was free. Finally free. He turned to face his servants. Their faces were piteous, but he appreciated the thought.

"Master... Are you really leaving?" they asked him. Ciel could taste the bitter hope clinging to their words.

"I am," he said and stepped up into the carriage. He turned in his seat and addressed his trio through the doorway. "The mansion is yours to do with as you please. Stay here. Burn it to the ground. I don't much care."

"Master, we could never do that!" they cried. The idea of the mansion burning again overcame decorum. They ran to the carriage and huddled in the doorway. "There are too many memories inside." Finny sniffled.

The young demon laughed. "Memories? What good are they? Have I not proven that?" His words were a little harsh perhaps, but he offered his faithful servants a genuine smile. After all, he had made Tanaka keep the book for their sakes. "Come on, Sebastian."

The black butler bowed once to the servants and then lifted himself into the carriage.

"Yes, My Lord."

The three servants stood on a cliff, all of their faces stained with tears. "Ahem," a voice came from behind them. Tanaka, with his kind smile and soft mannerisms, stood waiting. They turned their attention to the steward. On his lapel was the shining silver pin, denoting him as the head butler of the house of Phantomhive. The servants did their best to swallow their tears, hiccups and confusion and try not to let that pin reignite their heartache once more as they walked back to the house.

"MR. TANAKA!" Mei-Rin screamed through the Phantomhive Manor. When Tanaka, Finny, and Bard found her, she was clenching her fists in front of her mouth, shaking in the doorway of the guest room. Bard stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Finny held onto her arm and pressed close beside her. Tanaka gently pushed past the three of them and went to the Lady Elizabeth's side. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully but with a look of deep sorrow on her face. Tanaka touched the girl's icy cold cheek and then sighed deeply.

"How could this happen?" Bard's strained voice asked from the doorway.

"Today, we were not the only ones to lose the Young Master Ciel..." His voice trailed off and Tanaka looked at Elizabeth, flawless and beautiful even in death. "I believe she died of a broken heart."

000

There was a polite knock on the carriage roof. The driver hopped down to open the door. The sea air was clean and the boat ready to leave for France was already taking on passengers. "Earl Phantomhive?" he asked baffled. The carriage was completely empty, save for a small purse with a generous fee inside.

000

The dark arms of night finally encircled the wretched day, bringing it to a close. Curiosity finally outweighed his hurt with Ciel, and Soma begrudgingly opened the beautiful black box. Inside, black satin securely held a Funtom sweet. Soma gingerly removed it from the box. It was a lollipop variety from Ciel's confectionery and toy company. On the end of a long stick, the sweet was wrapped in beautiful paper. He looked closely and noted both sides were stamped with a black crowned cat, the Funtom logo. The paper was held securely by thin curling ribbon cascading down the stick as Soma held it up.

"Sweets? I don't understand." Soma waved the candy at Agni, trying to get his butler's attention. However, Agni's attention was singularly captured by what still lay in the box. Soma followed his gaze. A white card lay resting in the place beneath where the Funtom sweet had been. The corners of the small card were decorated with black roses and swirling thorned vines. Elegantly formed letters in the blackest ink stood out stark and unforgiving on the center of the card.

In memory of

Ciel Phantomhive

who died Aug. 26th, 1889

AGED 13 YEARS

~Fin~

#black butler fanfiction

[dearlittlecanary]

If You Give a Lab a Cluster . . .

Two years ago I wrote this commission for @eclecticegomaniac ! Originally posted under my now lost side account @.bearswritingaccount. This is a Steven Universe fictive for their original character and Steven! It ended at 5,103 words.

Lab Rat: a person or thing used as a subject for experimentation  Inhumane: without compassion for misery or suffering; cruel Betterment: the act or process of improving something’s standard or process Mankind: human beings considered collectively; the whole of the human race

There was once a time, when the lighthouse brought a sense of uneasiness, perhaps even loneliness. However, that was in the past, and now, now they were in the future; and Steven wouldn’t give that up for the world. It wasn’t quite sunset, nor was it still afternoon. Rather, it was that peaceful time when the sky was just beginning to turn, the soft rose golds, burnt oranges, and crisp golden well, golds, were starting to wake from their dianural slumber. As pretty as the sight was, that wasn’t the one that had captured Steven’s attention. Rather, it was the young woman that sat beside him. If you asked him which part of her that held his heart the most, Steven would be hard-pressed to find a proper answer. Was it her spit-fire personality, which always kept him tethered to what mattered most? Was it the fact that she never seemed to be far, allowing him to have someone to rely on when he needed it most? Or was it something more cliche, more . . tangible? Such as her eyes, as mysterious and tempting as a starless midnight sky? Her hair, which was always pulled back in it’s signature braid, a beautiful shade of strawberry blonde that seemed to exist no where else? Steven would say that it was all of those, and at the same time, none of them. He had grown up learning all kinds of different definitions of love, and each time he tried to apply one to what he and Mia had, none of them seemed to fit just right; but, is that really a bad thing? 

“Penny for your thoughts?” an achingly familiar voice questioned, mirth never straying far from her words. Steven blinked, said thoughts scattering like tadpoles that had just been startled by a skipping rock. A soft smile pulled at his features, it was also so hard to keep one from forming when he was around her. “I was just thinking about you.” he said honestly. Mia couldn’t help the quick glimmer of . . perhaps surprise, that flickered through her gaze before she laughed, a sound that Steven knew he would never get tired of hearing. “Surely you have better things to think about.” No sooner had she finished her sentence had the boy shook his head. “If I could think about nothing but you all day I would.” Okay, so maybe he had been brushing up on flirting skills in the library. He wasn’t very experienced when it came to things like this, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to try his very best. “Well that would certainly make for some interesting lesson plans down at the school.” Mia replied, that ever-present tone of mirth coating her words. Steven couldn’t help the snicker that quickly turned into a full-blown laugh at her words, clearly in agreement. 

Unbeknownst to both of the young teens, their date was under a rather scrutinizing and overly disdainful watch. A nearly silent drone, a BlackBear-289 (a rather small and surprisingly un-bear-like drone), hovering by the rails of the lighthouse; it’s attached camera zooming in on the pair without any trouble at all. “We have eyes on Subject 0190.” a disembodied voice spoke, travelling to a small yet elite strike team that was perched on the cliff-face, away from any prying eyes. “You’re clear to initiate Project CL-164. Be advised that the Subject is accompanied by one of the Crystal Gem threats. Be prepared to take injuries, possible casualties. Remember. . . failure is not an option.” The voice itself was rather monotone, almost robotic. As if it didn’t care what it was sending this team to do. After its warning about failure, the voice faded into static, and the lighthouse hill seemed peaceful once again; the air as tranquil as a hidden pool in the forests of lore. But alas, the peace and tranquility lasted only another heartbeat, for such things were never built or meant to last. 

The team of four scaled what was left of the cliff with ease, having come up behind the two teens. Their plan rode heavily on the element of surprise. The team was dressed all in black, wearing advanced headgear, their faces entirely covered, with nothing giving away their identities. One individual pulled a slender canister from their waist, the only sound being made was the pin being pulled. Steven and Mia turned, the sound startling both of them, but by then it was too late, the grenade was thrown. Just as Steven summoned his shield, it exploded against the ground, the concussion grenade spitting smoke, a bright white light and a high-pitched squeal, not unlike the feedback of an old television or radio. A pained cry escaped the teens, and the team wasted no time in moving in, pulling crackle rods from their belts. Electricity sparked off of the blue rods, the setting on the sticks set to stun; enough to render the teens unconscious should the blow(s) land. While failure wasn’t an option, bringing Subject 0190 back dead would certainly hasten their own meeting with the reaper. Their very organization rode on her existence, after all. 

Speaking of, Mia was the one who recovered from the grenade first, using her gem-given abilities to bend the light that the grenade had given off to make the light equivalent of a smoke-screen, giving time for Steven to recover as well. Unfortunately, while this was a great idea in theory, the headgear that had been issued to the team counteracted the movement easily, the same way a baby gate would deter any toddler from dangerous areas. Of course, this wasn’t a detrimental factor, at least, not to Mia. But then again, she had always been overconfident when it comes to situations like this. Beside her, Steven had recovered, his hands now covered in those ‘bubble boxing gloves’. “Ready?” he questioned. “Do you even need to ask?” came the retort. The grenade’s residue had cleared, and now the teams faced off, the tension akin to an old fashioned stand off in the Wild West, though it was clear this duel wouldn’t be as honorable. 

“Subject 0190, you have one chance to come with us amicably.” one of the lab’s bounty hunters said, their voice sounding just as robotic and monotoned as the voice that had come through the drone some minutes before. Steven raised a brow, glancing from the team of four to Mia for the briefest of seconds, but it was enough. A look of pure fury, much like the wrath of a God that had been awakened from their slumber far too soon, was on her features. In the back of his mind, Steven was casually comparing her to an Amazonian. She certainly had the fight and determination of one. “I’m never setting foot back in that place willingly.” she snarled. “If you want me, you’ll have to drag my corpse back.” Of course, Steven had no intentions of letting that be the case, or well, any of it for that matter. “As you wish.” came the eerily calm reply before the team darted forward with the precision of a panther that had been lying in wait for its prey. 

Mia dodged the first blow with ease, while Steven used his bubble gloves to block the ones aimed for him. Drawing her sword from her neck, Mia parried away the next blow with confidence, almost laziness really. Matching the lab’s lackeys blow for blow, Mia and Steven moved in tandem, it was a wonder they hadn’t accidentally fused yet they were so in tune with each other’s battle motions. Any spectator would assume that they were communicating in some unspoken way, so deep was their bond. Unfortunately, when it came to those that followed a belief so blindly, to those that made the title ‘zealot’ look like child’s play, such a bond was something to laugh at, to scorn even. “Are you done playing?” The black clothed assassins spoke as one, as if they shared a hive-mind mentality. For all Mia and Steven knew, they did. Were they even human? Perhaps.

Perhaps not. 

With renewed vigor, the elite force pressed harder, their blows reaching near supersonic speeds. Of course, such a thing is exaggerated, but that was certainly what it felt like. Steven grunted in exertion, trading his bubble gloves for his actual shield as he tried to knock back one of the individuals, however, in doing so, he left his right flank open. This was when the numbers game truly came into effect, and there were no words to describe the startled and pained shout that escaped Steven. Of course, at his cry, Mia slipped up, her head practically snapping to find him, his name falling from her lips in a panicked nature. “Steven!?” And that was all it took. One of the enforcers practically rammed their rod into the small of her back, not hesitating to use excessive force. It was a wonder the girl didn’t poof, but then again, she had always been the hardy type. Steven stumbled away from the two that had been taking some mighty liberties with the blows that rained down upon him, in an effort to get to Mia; and it was her turn to have her name dropped so fearfully. “Mia!!” It was to no avail. Steven wasn’t too sure where his final blow landed, he just registered the unhesitating waves of currents that wracked through his body, and he fell to his knees, unable to help the one he loved; who was getting similar treatment. 

The last thing he saw was Mia passing out in the arms of their attackers, Steven’s final thoughts being ones of failure. 

Opting to leave the Crystal Gem hybrid where he lay, the lackeys picked up Mia in a rather careless fire-man’s carry, opting to go down the hill instead of climbing the cliff again; so as not to risk damage to the Subject. At the bottom of the hill, an unmarked and unremarkable white van waited for them. Tossing Mia in as though she were nothing more than a sack of rocks, two of the individuals climbed in after her, while the other two moved to the front of the car; heading back to what was left of Ocean Town. After it’s Great Disaster, much of the townspeople had left, opting to live in more safer residential areas; which made things far easier for the Lennox Scientific Research Center (L.S.R.C). No longer did the head researcher need attend those press conferences, or attend the town meetings, claiming that their research was perfectly humane and safe; keeping up that angelic front. No, now their deeds could be done truly without shame, no longer did they have to hide in the dark like monsters, hide their natures. No longer did they have to fear the people misunderstanding what they stood for. 

That being the betterment of humanity, that is. Some may say that the LSRC was playing at God, trying far too hard to make Earth and mankind perfect, so much so that they had long since forgotten their morals. It was bold of them to even assume that the Center had any morals to begin with, really. “We have successfully apprehended Subject 0190.” the driver said, speaking to a seemingly invisible ear-piece. “Excellent.” came the simple reply. The rest of the drive passed in utter silence, one could hear a feather drop, so deathly quiet it was. It wasn’t long before the team arrived at the institution; which in and of itself was just as unremarkable as the van they had arrived in. The logo was the only identifying mark on the otherwise spotless white and gray building. It sported limited windows, and only two exits were visible to the naked eye. The front, which boasted the pair of simple glass doors, and then the back, which was a stainless and heavy duty steel garage-esque door, which was the one that the van pulled up to. After sitting for about thirty seconds, the door opened, giving way to the lab itself. Though, this first room was rather forgettable, it was filled with countless vans that were identical to the one in which Mia rode. 

The next couple of actions passed rather quickly. The individuals left the van, one of them carrying Mia out (in another careless fireman’s carry), only to hand her off to a team of researchers that looked as though they had just left a Doctor Who convention. After Mia had been passed off to them, she was brought to an observation room, devoid of anything but a medical bed, which was fitted with metal cuffs. Setting her down with the care that the enforcers had been lacking, the same researcher that had set her down made sure to secure her while the others (about six or so) flitted about her like bees at a freshly bloomed flower, the scratching of their pens filling the room until it seemed as though there was no other sound that existed in the world. Each camera sported a camera, and each of them were focused intently on Mia, each at different angles and zooms, so that the lab wouldn’t miss a single thing. Once the researchers had gotten their fill of notes (for now that is), they exited the room, retreating to a hidden observatory, waiting with bated breath for Mia to come to. 

Some might wonder why they had waited so long to bring her back. The reason for that was simple. It wasn’t as though they had been afraid she would leave, nor were they afraid that they would lose complete and utter track of her. You see, the drone that had been stalking her and Steven on their date, was only one of many that had followed Mia throughout her life. She had been under constant hidden surveillance since she had first left the lab. In addition to the drones, hidden cameras had been placed in the areas and establishments that Mia frequently visited. The lab also had no qualms about hacking into existing security footage in order to keep track of their precious little Subject 0190. Of course, that brings us to the reason as to why she was brought back now. It was through this constant surveillance that the L.S.R.C had gained so much information and knowledge on gem-kind and what made them tick, so to speak. The biggest nugget of knowledge that they had gained, had been that of the cluster and the ‘Gem Mutants’ as the Crystal Gems had called them. The lab’s team (and more specifically the head of it) had been intrigued as to what may happen when a small fused gem-shard cluster was integrated in the same host that a ‘pure’ gem called home. Of course, Mia’s history of becoming corrupted made for an unexpected and rather wild factor in the experiment, but at the same time, that only made the ideas of what could happen all the more intriguing. 

Speaking of the host. . .  it wasn’t long after the researchers had retreated to their observatory ‘ledge’ had Mia come to. Her first thoughts were of Steven, for the last thing that she had seen was him being beaten down that team of clods that had dared to lay a hand on them. Her second round of thoughts were trying to figure out just where the hell she was, trying to piece together what she remembered. It didn’t take long, especially as she had tried to move in order to get a better view; only to discover that she couldn’t get very far at all, perhaps a centimeter. Everything came crashing down then, with the force of a tidal wave in a thunderstorm. 

It was harder than she thought to push down that equally large wave of fear that roared up within her.

Fortunately for Mia, Steven didn’t intend to let her feel (or try to not feel) that fear for long. Coming too, a groan escaped him; the sound mixed with pain and exhaustion alike. Spitting out dirt and grass, he pushed himself up as he looked blearily around him. It took only a few seconds to realize that Mia was gone. It took only a few seconds after that for Steven to be on his feet and using his floating ability to jump down to the temple. While a part of him wanted to get into the Dondai and race to get her back himself, he knew that he would need the backup; especially if more of those black-clothed goons were wandering the lab. He didn’t know much about it, just what Mia had told him all those years ago, but what he did know was enough to send shivers of fear and worry alike down his spine. Bursting through the door, Steven didn’t hesitate to speak, the words spilling over his lips as quickly and harshly as a waterfall that had just shaken off the last ice of winter. “MiaandIwerehavingadateatthelighthousehillwhentheseg--” 

“Steven slow down!” Pearl said, raising a hand, eyes wide at how frantic Steven looked. “Yeah man, you look like you’re about to pass out.” Amethyst said, looking over Steven’s . . . disheveled appearance. Steven hesitated, then took a deep breath and tried to start again, trying to be a little calmer. “Mia and I were on the lighthouse’s hill, having a date, when these guys from the lab came and attacked us. They overpowered us and took Mia and now we have to go get her back before they do something horrible to her.” It was a wonder that Steven managed to say that all without yelling honestly. That’s not to say that a part of him didn’t want to scream and shout and throw apart the entire temple, but the logical part of him was winning out. For now. He was trying to push down those feelings of failure, incompetence, and frustration. There weren’t enough words in English or Gem or any other language, really, to describe how inadequate he felt. First it was Spinel. Then it was Blue-Bird. Then those two Lapises, and now . . . now he had lost Mia to the very people that had tormented her since she was a little girl. And while he knew that she was more than strong enough to take care of herself. .  he knew that she shouldn’t have too. 

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he felt as though each passing second was a year long. The other gems, to their credit, had been quick to move, working through their shock more efficiently than Steven ever could. “Let’s go then dude!” Amethyst said, eyes wider than Steven had ever seen them. Mia had long since become a part of the family, and an attack on the family, was essentially a death sentence. Letting the gems practically usher him to the Dondai, as it was impossible to warp to the laboratory, Steven couldn’t help but feel on autopilot. Once he was in the car however, he seemed to come to life a little, his movements jerky; the only sign that gave away his emotional distress. That and the speeding of course, when he actually managed to get the car into drive. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turning whiter than snow. 

I’m coming! He wanted to scream, Please don’t be afraid.

Please don’t give up. Please don’t give up on me.

Steven’s unheard pleas were for naught, for several reasons. Of course, there was the obvious answer. Secondly, Mia couldn’t even hear them. Besides, at the moment, she was a little preoccupied. . Now that she had come to, a voice was carrying through the space. “Subject 0190, otherwise known as Mia Lennox, Human Host, otherwise known as Rainbow Spectrolite, Alien Gem, are you aware of your surroundings?” Like the voice that had been used by the brutes that attacked her and Steven, the voice was robotic, monotone, as if it’s life was nothing but black and gray. Mia didn’t bother answering, not seeing any reason to cooperate with them. There was a minute or two of silence. “Subject 0190, we are aware that you can hear us.” the voice said, before repeating it’s earlier statement. Once again, Mia didn’t say anything, and instead flipped off one of the cameras. However, this seemed to be answer enough to the voice and the unseen observers. There was another few minutes of silence, perhaps the white coated sheep were trying to figure out what question to ask first. Mia idly (and rather condescendly) wondered how they didn’t pass out from the excitement that she undoubtedly brought to their tiny brains. “Are you aware why we brought you in today?” the voice finally asked, as though she was being pulled over. “Well I sure as fuck wasn’t speeding.” she drawled. “Did I run a red light? A stop sign?” 

There was an almost silence, for Mia could just hear the scritching of pencils coming over the intercom. Unfortunately, it did nothing to help her figure out where the room was. “It’s good to see that you retain some sense of humanity.” Mia couldn’t (and didn’t really try to) resist the urge to roll her eyes. “Since when is humanity and humor the same thing?” Honestly, Mia couldn’t stand holding a conversation with these people, but it served as a good distraction. She was trying to figure out how to get out of here, and the working idea was to use her abilities to try and melt the cuffs. The only problem with that was the constant surveillance. Even if she managed to get her hands free, she had no idea how many individuals in black they had, or even what other weapons they had. . . 

These concerns only lasted a moment though. She was Mia Lennox after all! She could accomplish anything she set her mind to, come hell or high water! There was no way that she was going to sit still and let the lab do whatever they wanted with her, not again. Not ever again. So, she did her best to keep her movements subtle. All she needed was a little laser right? She could do that just by pointing her finger. . . maybe. “You have been brought back to us because we have a procedure you must undergo. For the betterment of humanity, you will be the one that brings us closer to salvation.” While the words, the mantra really, was eerie enough, hearing it said through a robotic voice made it even creepier. Mia knew that those words would be haunting her dreams without a doubt. Though, the sound of a new ‘procedure’ didn’t exactly sound all that promising either. “Will there be tea and cookies after?” Mia asked, though it would take a total dunce to miss the sarcasm that dripped from her words, thick like honey. Listening to the faint echo of pencils scratching on their clipboards, Mia took her chance to try and cut the cuffs around her wrists. It was a painstaking process. She didn’t really care if she hurt herself while she was doing this, no, she was more worried about the cameras catching on to what she was doing. “Why do you feel the need to ask questions that you already know the answers to, Subject 0190?” 

“Does that mean ‘yes’?” Mia replied, not skipping a beat. She could practically hear the eye roll through the camera, the voice changing the subject. “Are you familiar with the gem cluster at the center of the Earth, Subject 0190?” The question caught Mia completely off-guard, her little laser plan halting in her surprise. “What about it? I’m certainly not helping you adopt it, if that’s what you’re getting at. You’re not exactly parents of the year.” The Cluster was actually rather sad. She remembered Steven’s story about it when he had come back from saving it with Peridot. It had also helped them fight Yellow and Blue Diamond when they had come to try and claim Steven for their own. . She would be rather be shattered than help the lab freaks get their hands on it. “You misunderstand. We have a piece of it.” Mia felt as though the floor had just been ripped out from under her. Her brain seemed to be working overtime in order to figure out just where the hell they were going with this. “Unfortunately, many of our tests on it. . . have been inconclusive.” Well that could mean any number of things, honestly. “So, we have decided to go ahead with our next phase of the experiment. To study how our piece of the Cluster, otherwise known as Project CL-164, reacts with a human host that has already been integrated with a ‘pure’ gem. Of course, you have already been corrupted, but have also been healed, so while you are not a truly ideal candidate, you certainly exceed many of our expectations as it is.” 

If Mia could breathe, she would. If she could come up with some kind of snarky reply, she would. But it seemed as though she stopped functioning altogether. It wasn’t as though she hated the Cluster, itself, in fact she was sure that it was quite nice. No, rather, she hated that she was once again going to be a guinea pig, a lab rat. She hated the idea of having another gem, or in this case, gems, forced onto her. It was hard enough keeping Spectrolite out of her head. She didn’t want to have to fight to just be herself, she didn’t deserve such a fate. Though, once again, it seemed as though she had no choice. The voice, seemingly having taken her silence as a ‘sure go ahead, I’m totally fine with this’; clicked off, and a previously hidden door slid upwards, for it was integrated within the wall. Four researchers walked in, and activated previously hidden wheels on the bed that she was strapped down on, wheeling her out of the room. A few seconds after she started moving, the true gravity of the situation seemed to come crashing down on Mia, and she began to thrash, to struggle. “NO!” she shouted, not once, not twice, but rather over and over again, until she was practically blue in the face. She took a breath then, and was about to continue shouting some more, but one of the researchers held her arm down and she felt the familiar prick of a needle; and the room started spinning. “N-No!” Of course, it wasn’t anything to knock her out, not yet. They hadn’t quite decided if the operation would be more successful if she was unconscious . . . or not. After all, these shards weren’t like the Spectrolite they had implanted oh so long ago, and anything less than perfect was a failure, and failure. . . . was not tolerated in the Lennox Scientific Research Center. 

Wheeling Mia into a more than expensive medical wing, it seemed almost as though someone went through every modern medical catalog and ordered one of everything; forgetting how big their designated room was. Everything blinked or beeped or both, and if Mia wasn’t already on some kind of drug, she would have thought that she was having an overdose episode the way that her surroundings all ran together. (Though, quite honestly, this was more likely due to the serum that had just been administered to her). The researchers paid the seemingly wordless babbles of Mia no attention, letting her head roll from side to side and up and down while she tried (unsuccessfully) to take in all of the room, for it seemed to her that each time she looked in a new direction there was a new thing to see. Just what had they given her? She wasn’t sure, but she did like the warm and fuzzy feeling it gave her, it reminded her of a blanket that had just come out of the dryer. “We need to integrate the CL-164 shard into a nerve-heavy area.” one researcher said. “The neck or spine is out of the question, we have no idea how either gem will react being in such close proximity to each other, and we need Subject 0190 alive for as long as possible.” another chimed in.

“The hand perhaps?”

“Above or around the heart?” 

“In the center of her forehead?” 

For each suggestion, a black ‘X’ was marked, and it wasn’t long before her body was seemingly covered in them, each one marking a vital organ or places where nerves were known to accumulate. Finally, the team came to a decision. “The heart it is.” The words were said with clinical detachment, as if they had asked for a specific surgical tool. Perhaps it was a blessing that Mia didn’t really register what was about to happen to her. Around her, the researchers skittered about, getting scrubs on and wash their hands thoroughly, their actions reminding Mia of busy bees, and well, because of her fun little drug, they actually started to resemble bees. Not realistic bees, thank goodness, that would be far too terrifying. Coming back to her side, the researchers unclipped her classic overalls, so that her shirt was on display. “Scissors.” With a few efficient motions, the last remaining garments were cut away. “Scalpel.” One of the researchers wheeled in the small gem cluster as another handed over the requested tool. The small cluster seemed to be made up of four different gems, and they were melded together in a shape that didn’t seem to be invented yet. 

Mia thought it looked like a star honestly, but she was soon distracted from the shining thing when the warmth she had previously felt started to almost evaporate in a sharp and almost painful way. This of course, was due to the researchers cutting her open, the scalpel cutting through her skin with ease, bright red standing out starkly against her skin and the otherwise stainless steel. Just as the researcher in question was about to make the second incision, Mia squirming at the notion, the doors burst open. Steven and the other Gems bursting in with fury unbridled, their weapons all at the ready. Taking in the sight, Steven could no longer hold back his rage, his true rage, and once again, that pink tint came over his skin; and he lunged towards the researchers with every intention of making sure they had to crawl out of that room. Pearl, the unofficial medic of the team, rushed to Mia’s side while the others backed Steven up. 

Caught completely off guard, the researchers barely had time to call in for back-up, not that any would have arrived anyways; for the Crystal Gems had taken care of them before they managed to find Mia. Speaking of, she was staring wide-eyed all around her, her motions almost frantic. “Steben.” she tried to say, her tongue feeling heavy, a side effect from the drug. “Steben.” she repeated, a low whine almost daring to enter her tone. “Shhh, you’re safe now.” Pearl said softly as she did her best to patch Mia up safely and quickly, all without hurting her too much. “He’s fighting to save you.” Indeed he was, and he was being utterly ruthless about it. The researchers that went down under his blows took a good second to move again, though such a thing didn’t seem to bother Steven, at least, not at the moment. Once all the researchers were taken care of, and the few backup lackeys that had somehow managed to get past them in the first place, Steven was quick to join Pearl’s side, who had just gotten Mia free from the table. 

Taking her into his arms, a sense of relief settled over him. “I’m so sorry.” he said, his voice no higher than a whisper. It was a wonder it didn’t crack. “Steben.” was all she said, and he couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes, the pained smile that pulled at his lips. “Yeah. It’s me.” Mia seemed to relax a little in his arms, which only caused him to hold her closer. “Let’s go home.” he said, louder, addressing all of the Gems at that point. Taking their leave from the building, Pearl drove them home, Steven sitting in the back with Mia; not daring to leave her side for even a second. She had fallen asleep in his arms at some point, and she looked so peaceful, so at ease. He couldn’t help but acknowledge the consequences of his failure, the fruits of his incompetence. A few silent tears streamed down his cheeks. “I won’t let them hurt you ever again.” 

“I swear.”

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