#UndertakerxClaudia

[tiff-taf-touf]

Fanart summary 2022 (1)

Animations (Undertaker x Claudia P.)

Claudia P.

[abybweisse]

Wat r ur undertaker x claudia headcanons? Feel free to rant abt it lmao I love ur kuroshitsuji posts btw!! Ive binged ur posts and esp love ur undie is cedric, undertakerxclaudia n mother 3 posts! Thanks for being indepth with the analysis :D

UTxClaudia headcanons

Permission to rant appreciated!

However, idk if I have any new headcanons for them. 🤔 I guess I can restate some of them and go into a bit more detail here and there.

She was a willful, take charge kind of person and knew that getting involved with Undertaker could prove to be problematic.

He is actually a very serious person, but her humor got to him, and now that's why he craves laughter. It temporarily alleviates his sense of loss.

He was more worried about possible consequences than she was, and he kept giving her warnings... much like we've seen him warn our earl about protecting his soul. Like Vincent, she probably just did whatever she was going to do... and tried to plan/prepare for her own demise. Our earl has also largely been ignoring Undertaker's advice, but it's hard to take advice to protect your soul... when you already have a contract with a demon, and when you are already living on borrowed time.

She probably named the children, just like Rachel does. I suspect she chose those names as a subtle "giving the finger" to the crown. Rachel doesn't want "tedious" English names, but she could be making a political statement. Could be a similar situation for Claudia.

She and Undertaker could have had children as an "eff you" to the crown. Some way of fighting the system from within.

I doubt she and Undertaker/Cedric were ever married, so that would make their kids bastards, children born out of wedlock. Then to give them French names about being victorious and free? Oof 😅

Maybe they hoped to remove the Phantomhive family from service to the monarchy. But she fails when Vincent steps up to fill the vacancy. We still don't know how all that went down.

[tiffany-s-boudoir]

Full animated diaporama version

Warning:turn on the sound🔈, angst

Background music : Agnes Obel « Arches »

[dqrkncss666]

Very smoll xD

Claudia, speaking to a nobleman: FIGHT ME!

Undertaker: Stop telling everyone to fight you, look how small you are!

Claudia: My height doesn't effect my ability to snap someone's neck in 97 different ways! INCLUDING YOURS!

Undertaker: You can't even reach my neck.

Claudia: Do you really want to test me now?! Because I see my step stool just a foot away from me. DO NOT MAKE ME USE IT!

[blxxdingstars]

My new OTP ship. Countess Claudia Phantomhive and Grim Reaper, Undertaker. I’m dreaming about digging in their twisted past. Who roleplays Undertaker?

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

Hanging from the lit chandelier was a vertical hoop that Catherine was sure hadn’t been there before.

Lounging inside the hoop, apparently as comfortable as if it had been a chaise lounge, was a Joker.

[...]

On first glance, Catherine thought he had long black hair too, until she realized that he was wearing a black hat that hung in three points, each tipped with a small silver bell—though he held so still, they didn’t ring, and Catherine could not recall the tinkle of bells when the candles had gone out.

When—how—had he gotten up there?

— Heartless, Marissa Meyer

It’s Valentine’s Day, and yesterday, the Carnival festivities ended. Still, I wanted to combine both feasts, and thus, I put Cloudia and Undertaker into costumes: Cloudia as Cath and Undertaker as Jest from Heartless. I love this novel so much.

The windows aren’t heart-shaped, Cloudia’s dress not red enough, and Undertaker not hanging from a chandelier, but, well, I hope nobody minds.^^’

I drew Undertaker and Cloudia on a separate sheet of paper, cut them out, and put them on the background – that’s why they have shadows!

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to colour the background...

Nevertheless, happy what-is-left-of-it Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday!^^

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Lady Catherine Pinkerton of Rock Turtle Cove. I’ve been trying, but it’s useless. You’ve had me mesmerized from the first moment I saw you in that red dress, and I don’t know what to do about it, other than to use every skill at my disposal to try and mesmerize you back.”

The wind whistled through the rocks, the waves whispered on the beach, and Catherine had no response.

[lestatdesade]

this lyrics from “tammy fayr” by nicole dollanganger reminds me of undertaker. 

“But it’s just how I get With my Tammy Faye eyes Blood on my clothes and my hands I’ve done it again You know you’ll just have to go bury this In the garden and leave it till there’s nothing left For me to find, when I try to dig it up And bring it back to life”

[anotquitedevilishchristmas]

Warming

by @tothelasthoursofmylife

The cold clawed at his clothes, wanting to touch his body and seep into his skin. He did not mind.

Snow was falling, limiting his vision and bringing coldness with it; it covered the world and his clothes in white and tangled in his hair, partially melting. Most would be freezing at this temperature; many wearing clothes as thin as his might believe to die in movement at any given moment – but if you were already dead and especially if you were dead for as long as he was, you learned not to mind the cold anymore.

Or, at least, if you were dead but not quite as he was – an oddity in-between life and death, pending and waiting. Punished. Restless. Hopeless.

Not shivering, the not-quite-dead man with the peculiar top hat and the mortician’s clothes walked through the streets of London, his breath freezing into clouds before his face. All around him, even the poorest, even the saddest were in a festive mood as it was the first day of Christmas.

He glanced at the sparse decoration here and there but never stopped or slowed his pace. It was Christmas Day but there was never any rest for the living, the dead, and those in-between. Not even today.

He took out his key when he arrived at his funeral parlour, but when he wanted to unlock the door he noticed that it was already open. Cautious, he entered his shop and home – and stepped from coldness and the white and grey of winter and snow into warmth and colours, bright and brilliant.

His funeral parlour, usually dimly lit and filled with coffins and pieces and things unappetising, was shining and all was covered with lametta and baubles, figurines and paper stars.

And in-between this colourful explosion sat a young woman on a chair – her dress red and green, her hair in braids and waves, and her dark eyes full of intelligence and scheme.

Many months had passed since Countess Cloudia Phantomhive had first entered his little parlour – and, ever since, she had never stopped coming. And annoyed at first, he had grown fond of her – of this short girl with the gentle looks and sharp tongue.

She beamed at him when he entered and the door fell closed behind him. He was not sure if she was either delighted to see him or amused by the dumbfounded look on his face or both.

“Undertaker, welcome,” Cloudia said, standing up. “I hope you do not mind that I was so free to redecorate the parlour a little bit here and there. Spider webs, mostly melted candles, and dusty skulls are definitely not in season anymore – and I doubt that they ever were.”

Undertaker grabbed a bauble which hung from one of the diagonal coffins. It was blue and red and so shiny that he could see an oddly reflected version of himself in it. Amused, he twisted it in his fingers. “Are you still mad that I mucked around with you during the last case?”

She slightly raised one of her eyebrows. “I just wanted to be a good friend and citizen by giving you a spontaneous redecoration for Christmas. After all, Christmas is all about giving.”

“And taking, I assume?” he replied, not taking his eyes off the Christmas bulb – but the smile which hushed over his lips was not directed at it but at her.

“What are you talking about?” Cloudia said in theatrical mock, and even without looking up, Undertaker knew that she was walking towards him. “It is about giving and not taking – it is a game of giving and taking for every other day in the year but Christmas, Undertaker! But if you give me something for I have already given something to you…”

“That’s still taking.”

“It’s called receiving, Undertaker. ‘Taking’ sounds like I am using force to get something from you – which I am not. I am just talking about the spirit of Christmas and presents and giving and goodwill. If I was to forcefully take something from you, for example, your top hat I’ve taken a hypothetical like for, I would have already jumped at you, stolen it, and run away with it through the night and all the way to the townhouse. My shoes are wonderful and I am a skilled runner. And, most importantly, my corset is not suffocating me. You should think of ways to protect your hat or, one day, I might go and turn my hypothetical plan into reality – or, perhaps, I am only saying all this to make you live in fear for your hat?” Cloudia did not stop smiling while speaking, and when she was done, she sat down on a coffin covered in lametta. Except for her colouring, Cloudia Phantomhive was an English Rose in every way – at least, if you did not let her speak freely and honestly or met her in an alleyway at night.

But then, every rose had its thorns – and while many made sure to have them removed, Undertaker loved them as much as the blossom.

“Very well,” said Undertaker, taking his eyes off the ball and directing them at Cloudia. “What should I give you? What do you want to ‘receive’ from me?”

A bright grin illuminated her face. “A laugh and a smile.”

Usually, she was the one who came to him for information, but in the rare instances when their positions were switched, she always ever demanded a laugh and a smile. One day, he had asked her why, and she had replied: “Because you make me laugh the best and easiest.”

And he had been glad that their feelings were mutual.

“But you are already grinning,” Undertaker replied, and immediately, the grin vanished from Cloudia’s face.

“What are you talking about? I am not grinning,” she said, her face expressionless and her voice eerily neutral.

Undertaker took off his wet hat and put it away from Cloudia. Then, he leaned towards her and brushed his lips against hers. He could feel her smiling against his lips, and then, she pulled him down a bit to kiss him properly.

“And… and what about my laugh?” Cloudia wanted to know when they broke apart, still smiling and cheeks flushed. But before Undertaker could collect his thoughts and say something, Cloudia darted forward and snatched his hat and put it on herself, sinking back down onto the coffin.

“How do I look?” she asked, her face serious except for her eyes which were bright and shimmering. The head looked odd in combination with her colourful clothes and was too large for her small head. Undertaker laughed and his laughter rang through the parlour.

Cloudia smiled, bright and warm. “There it is,” she said gently before joining him.

  ***

  The cold was biting its way through the streets, touching everything as it passed by.

The snow scrunched beneath his boots while he took an additional round around his neighbourhood. It was cold, it was freezing but he was indifferent towards the icy fingers of the wind and in no hurry to return home. But after hours and hours of wandering with no aim, his treacherous feet brought him to the parlour.

Slowly, Undertaker opened the door and closed his eyes – imagining, awaiting his parlour covered in lametta and decorated with angels and baubles and filled with warmth and the smell of cinnamon like it had been every Christmas Day for the past years – and he allowed himself to smile. But the sound of the closing door tore him out of his thoughts and his eyes fluttered open to meet the bleak darkness and dust silently swirling through the air.

His smile vanished from his lips as if it had never been there and, for the first time in so long, the dead man was touched and embraced by the cold.

[rxseandscythe]

GET TO KNOW THE BLOGGER!

Can be used for RP and non-RP blogs to get to know a bit about the person behind the screen!

1.First name: Kasia

2.Strange fact about yourself: I am orchids psychofan (I have them around 150)

3.Top three physical things you find attractive on a person: eyes, hair, waist

4.A food you could eat forever and not get bored of: salmon

5.A food you hate: everything including coconut

6.Guilty pleasure: sleeping till the noon

7.What do you sleep in: nothing. I find nightdresses and pajamas uncomfortable

8.Serious relationships or flings: it's my private thing

9.If you could go back in the past and change one thing about your life, would you and what would it be: learn English harder

10.Are you an affectionate person: very!

11.A movie you could watch over and over again: Pirates of the Caribbean

12.Favorite book: "Gałęziste". It's a polish novel.

13.You have the opportunity to keep any animal as a pet, what do you choose: black panther

14.Top five fictional ships [if you are an RP blog, you can use your own ships as well]: 1. UndertakerxClaudia 2.ClaudiaxSebastian 3.RamsayxMyranda 4.MadHatterxKurai (Angel Sanctuary) 5 RocielxKatan (Angel Sanctuary)

15.Pie or cake: cake

16.Favourite scent: raspberry

17.Celebrity crush: Charlotte Hope, Iwan Rheon

18.If you could travel anywhere, where would you go: Australia

19.Introvert or extravert: Introvert

20.Do you scare easily? NO

21.iPhone or Android: Android

22.Do you play any video games? Rarely.lack of time.

23.Dream Job: Painter, 3d Artist, Illustrator

24.What would you do with a million dollars: probably spend on travelling

25.Fictional character you hate: Claude. He is weird.

26.Fandom that you were once a part of but aren’t any longer: Game of Thrones

Tagging: @rotcon @mirroredprodigies @sin-stained-soul @rha-egal @outside-eden @an-ordinary-roach @inquisitivewitchy @reapsickle and all the rest who wants :)

[tiff-taf-touf]

Fanart summary 2021 (1)

Undertaker x Claudia P. Mini Comics

[tiffany-s-boudoir]

How about a cup of tea and some biscuits ?

Undertaker’s bones and Claudia P.´s mourning lockets shaped biscuits

Biscuit base topped with lemon and orange blossom flavored royal icing

[dqrkncss666]

Claudia: When I was born, the Grim Reaper said 'oh shit' compilation.

Undertaker: I confirm that its true and it happened.

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

“There was nothing left to say.”

Countryside, England, United Kingdom – May 1842

 ~Barrington~

 When I arrived at the manor and Old Ted told me that Dia was nowhere to be found, I felt like I was twelve years old again. And this feeling only strengthened when I walked through the numerous secret passages and rooms of Phantomhive Manor to find her.

But back then, I had searched for Si and had not known where to go, what was where.

And in a way, I still didn’t.

 I had come unannounced, had planned to hold a small surprise party for Dia to celebrate the success of her first case: the defeat of John Francis’ attempt to take Her Majesty the Queen’s life. But Dia was her father’s daughter and loved to hide and be alone. And so, again, I had to search for a Phantomhive.

I doubted that it would ever stop, was certain that I would walk after them for the rest of my life. I didn’t mind.

After all, my life revolved around them ever since Genevieve had invited me to Phantomhive Manor all those years ago.

 Genevieve Phantomhive had been a wonderful woman. Strong and intelligent, the Phantomhive household’s iron lady, a mother who had loved her son more than anything else. And despite the fact that her husband Percival had barely been there, Genevieve had never stopped to love him unconditionally.

Due to Percival’s constant absence, Genevieve had raised Simon mostly on her own and had done so with a lot of patience and love. And you needed a lot of patience when it came to Simon. Si who had been so anxious, had been so shy and insecure. But despite anything, Si had the remarkable talent to learn things thoroughly as long as he was alone and received the time he needed. Even if he did not enjoy what he was doing.

And so, it had come that he had managed to beat me in a swordsmanship competition, ridiculing me in front of everybody. And so it had come that Genevieve being Genevieve had invited me to Phantomhive Manor right afterwards – not because she had wanted to laugh at me, but because she had genuinely hoped that I might manage to befriend her son.

And what had followed had been a friendship filled with searches, secret passages, and burdens. Burdens we had carried together; burdens we had faced all alone.

  Barrington navigated through the familiar corridors, smiling sadly when the memories of the time he had spent here with Simon returned. How often had he followed his friend to these corridors? How long had it taken until he had not come to get him but to join him? To hide with him from the world?

Barrington sighed at his memories.

  My life was marked by failures; my friendship with Simon had started and ended with failure, and so had many other things in my life.

Therefore, I had sworn to make everything right with Dia. I did not want to fail another Phantomhive; I did not want to fail another person who meant so much to me. But my oath had crumbled so quickly, so easily. First, the system, then, the slow, gradual alienation.

I had no idea what had happened, did not think that Dia had noticed that I had, but I had the feeling that it was all her doing. But I also knew that it was mine too. Because, as it seemed, all I could do was fail.

  An hour passed and Cloudia was still unfindable, but Barrington did not panic and just kept on going. She was here somewhere. He knew it; he would find her.

And while he walked and searched, looked and wandered, Barrington eventually noticed where his feet were carrying him: to Simon’s favourite hidden room. With a faint smile and memories filling his mind, Barrington approached the room.

  The last time, I had gone there had been on the day of Si’s funeral. After it had ended, I had sneaked into this room which had always felt more like Simon than his own bedroom.

But when I had entered it on that day, the room, which had always been stuffed with paper and pens and all sorts of things, had been empty. Afterwards, I had never been able to ask Penelope where she had put the things – the things which had been here, once upon a time, when the sky had been bluer than it was now.

  When Barrington opened the door, it was almost as if he was looking into the past – a room covered in paper, a Phantomhive in its centre – but instead of scribbles, the papers were filled with notes or were parts from newspapers, and instead of being met by green eyes, he was met by blue ones when Cloudia turned around, a pencil in her hand and surprise painted on her face.

  Oh, my dear girl.

  ***

  Somewhere, England, United Kingdom – April 1848

 ~Cloudia~

  Ever since I could remember, there was a labyrinth in the garden of Phantomhive Manor.

  ***

  Upon seeing the little girl with the dark blue eyes, I closed my eyes, counted from ten downwards again, and pinched myself – and I wondered what I preferred: having become insane or the girl being real.

When I reopened my eyes, the little girl still stood in front of me, and I knew for certain that I was not imagining it, that I was not dreaming all this – and fear and panic found their ways to me and crept among my thoughts.

  “You don’t look good,” the little girl with the dark blue eyes said. “One time my cousin ate dirt. I don’t know why but she did it. It was gross, and she looked just like you.”

Slowly, Cloudia stood up, not taking another look at the creature which should not be.

“Did you eat something wrong?”

Cloudia turned around and started to walk away. The girl just followed her. “Do you know where you are going?” she asked.

  Go away.

  “I am afraid,” the blue-eyed girl said. “Are you afraid?”

Cloudia quickened her steps.

“I don’t like it here. Walls are everywhere,” she continued to say. “It’s so stuffed. How are you?”

  Please stop talking.

  “My cousin’s papa – not the cousin who ate dirt – has a hairy face. It looks funny. What do you…” Cloudia didn’t hear the rest of the little girl’s words as she broke into a run.

  To hell with my headaches. To hell with my tired body.

I only wanted to get away.

  Cloudia ran as fast as she could, getting away from the girl her only aim, the only thing to make her push her weary body farther, farther, farther. She turned around corner after corner, sprinted through corridor after corridor until her lungs began to ache – and even then, she kept on for a little bit longer before slowing down. Still walking quickly, Cloudia finally allowed herself to look over her shoulder to see if the girl with the dark blue eyes – the impossible monster – had somehow followed her, but there was nothing behind her but rows and rows of walls made of grey stone.

For a moment, relief tricked her into halting, but Cloudia pushed herself to keep on walking. She turned her gaze back to the front and–

“…think is funny?” continued the little girl her question from earlier as if nothing had happened, as if Cloudia had never moved.

  ***

  But that labyrinth was not like this one.

  ***

  I knew what she was, but I did not know how she came to be.

She was a monster wearing a face which could not be hers, speaking with a voice which did not belong to her. Both face and voice were part of the past, things having long turned into memories – only there to be re-watched, impossible to re-enter.

Still, she had managed to steal them.

  The little girl with the dark blue eyes kept on talking.

And talking and talking.

She never stopped; she spoke about how she didn’t like this place, how she liked this and that, how she wanted to go home, how she was lost, and how her cousin – one of many – once got lost in the woods, tripped while trying to return and lost a piece of his tooth.

  She was driving me insane – more and more with every word she spoke.

But wasn’t I already insane? She could not be – she couldn’t, she couldn’t – and still, I could see her, hear her, feel her presence. But every time, I tried to touch her, she moved away.

And she kept on talking and talking and talking…

  “Do you want to make a pause? You don’t look okay; I think you should sit down,” the blue-eyed girl proposed.

  I was not looking fine because you were driving me crazy. Because you shouldn’t be here and haunt me. Because I shouldn’t let you haunt me.

But you did.

With every word that left your mouth, with every word that you voiced, you pulled at my sanity, at the remnants of it.

Part of me let you drag me down, but another kept on pushing on – and pushing you away.

And I hoped and hoped and wished that this part would win and you would vanish, but no matter what I did, what I tried, what I said, you stayed and kept on speaking and speaking with no pause and end.

  ***

  It was not made of grey and stone but of hedges and flowers.

  ***

  The girl’s words started to echo through my head, beating alongside my headache.

There was nothing else in this maze except her and me – no sound, no change, no other monsters, no other humans. But monsters – this monster here with me – wore a human’s face, and humans could wear a monster’s face; and I wondered if the little girl with the blue eyes had chosen a different face to wear, one I didn’t know, would I have known that she was a monster and not a girl?

  “I like fairy tales,” the girl chanted. “They are full of magic. It can’t be, I know. I always knew, but I met magic. I saw magic. I don’t know if it’s called magic, but I think of it as that.”

She looked up at Cloudia. “My one cousin – not the one whose papa’s face is hairy, not the one who ate dirt, not the one with the chipped tooth – knows so many first and last sentences of fairy tales. ‘A king and queen once upon a time reigned in a country a great way off, where there were in those days fairies. – And then the prince and Briar Rose were married, and the wedding feast was given; and they lived happily together all their lives long.’ This the beginning and end of Briar Rose! I like this tale, but it is not my favourite.”

  And how did I know that I was a girl and not a monster?

  ***

  Once upon a time, I had been bound to Phantomhive Manor. I still was, but, back then, it had been different.

  ***

  “Are you happy?” the little girl wanted to know. “I doubt you are. How can you be happy if you are in a place like this? I doubt anyone can be happy in a place like this. This maze is odd, oh, so odd. There is nowhere to go even if you keep on walking. Are you happy?”

  Was I?

Lately, I had definitely not been happy. I had been rolled over by Teddy’s death and the anniversary, by my own failure and now this charade. There had been no time to be happy in this grief.

  “What was the last thing you enjoyed? Did you enjoy killing Maven von Brandt?”

  Did I?

  “I think you did – oh, take care! There’s a corner, ahead! Not that you run against a wall! This reminds me of that one time…”

  ***

  Back then, I would always try to run. I would always hide. And sometimes, I would run into the labyrinth and hide there.

  ***

  “What brought you here?” The girl walked ahead of her, walked backwards so that she could face her. “What do you think brought you here?”

  I did not know what she meant. I could not think. My head was filled with her stolen voice, her never-ending speech. There was no room for my own thoughts; all I could concentrate on were the words coming out of her mouth.

And nothing else. And nothing else.

  “People always follow paths. Sometimes, they have to choose whether they want to go left or right when they arrive at a junction. I don’t think you can turn and walk back the way from which you’ve come. Where did you choose so unwisely to get to a place like this today?”

  I did not want to walk anymore. I had never been so tired before. I didn’t care about choosing or turning. I only wanted to stand here for a while to rest my soul and bones, but I couldn’t.

I had to keep on walking – and walking and walking. I did not know where to go, where my feet would carry me. If there was even somewhere to go or if I would remain here for ever and ever with this girl and monster as my only companion.

  “It is okay to decide to make a pause,” the blue-eyed girl sang. “Or, if you don’t want to rest, you can just step into a new line and hope that this one’s calmer. It is all right to leave the path on which you were walking. You weren’t good at it anyway. If you were, you wouldn’t be here today, would you? It’s fine, you don’t have to be good at everything. Or anything, even.

“You are not looking well. How are you feeling today?”

  ***

  I would go there to read, to be by myself. I would go there to escape or just for the sake of running.

  ***

  My mind and limbs were heavy. I was wearing down. I kept on walking, but it seemed that I was seeing the same walls, following the same route. It seemed as if I was walking in circles, and it was wearing me down.

 I did not know how much time had passed. Since I had come here. Since I had woken up here. Since Leon had run away.

I wondered what he had seen. He couldn’t have seen the little girl – that was all I knew.

 It must be night now; it should be night now. But the sky was still grey.

How long was I awake? I wished that I was just dreaming, dreaming…

… but I wasn’t and this shadow of a girl kept on speaking.

And this shadow of me kept on listening. To her words, to her song. To the truth woven into them, and to the lies woven into truths.

  ***

  For a long time, in the beginning, when I had first started going into the maze, I would always get lost.

  ***

  Whenever a headache grew too strong and I lost my grip on what was around me, it felt like I was pulled down an ocean and, no matter how much I struggled to return to the surface, I would continue sinking, knowing that all was in vain and that there was nothing I could do.

It felt like I had been buried under snow, trying to dig myself out even if my hands and arms and legs were already frozen. And I would only stop moving when I could not even feel the cold anymore.

It felt like I had fallen into a hole or well which was impossible to climb out of. But I would still try it, try it until my hands were bloody, try it until I fell and was unable to get back again.

And every time, I was all alone. Every time, I would scream and cry, but there was nobody who could hear me. Nobody who could help me. And every time, I stopped fighting, I stopped screaming as well.

On the bottom of the ocean, beneath the thick snow, stuck in a well, there was nothing but me and my thoughts.

And soon, I was trapped in them as well.

  ***

  It did not take long until someone noticed I was gone. However, there was only ever one who would come and find me.

  ***

  The blue-eyed little girl continued speaking, and reddened waves called to me.

 She was right. I was not good at what I was doing. Because I had failed, Manon was still breathing – breathing and laughing, laughing at me from her throne high above in her castle – and she had been able to continue torturing and killing innocent people. So many had died because of me. Because there was nothing I could do right.

I was not suitable, was sheer incapable to follow this path any longer.

 I began walking into the ocean.

  ***

  He was always there for me, and I wondered if, sometimes, in some ways, I had also been there for him.

  ***

  And with every step I made, the shadows around me, the shadows on the walls, took on shapes and started to speak to me – started to call me towards them to the bottom of the ocean with their sing-song voices.

  “If you go there, I think, I won’t be lost anymore,” said the girl with the dark blue eyes.

“You don’t have to be scared,” said the old man.

“I am here to strengthen you,” said the sad-eyed man.

“I am here to hold you,” said the boy with raven hair.

“You could have been more,” said the monster.

“I will watch out for you,” said the woman in black.

“Who even cares for you?” said the woman behind the veil.

“Let us go together,” said the man.

  The air did not sound; the sea did not ring out. But there was an ocean, I knew, and its water clung to me and made me heavy and pulled me down.

  “I will wait for you there,” said the man, the last man, with the odd eyes and odd hair.

 “If you go there, I think, I won’t be lost anymore.”

“You don’t have to be scared.”

“I am here to strengthen you.”

“I am here to hold you.”

“You could have been more.”

“I will watch out for you.”

“Who even cares for you?”

“Let us go together.”

 “I will wait for you there, I will…”

  I pressed my hands to my ears and stopped walking, the red waves tearing at me, the shadows still calling me.

  “Go away,” Cloudia wanted to say, but when she tried, no sound came out.

“You don’t have to be scared.”

“Go away,” she tried again, but it still didn’t work.

“Let us go together.”

“GO AWAY,” she repeated, putting all her force into the words, but there was still nothing.

“I will wait for you there.”

  ***

  But he was not always able to come, so I had to find a way out myself.

  ***

  The words got caught in my throat when I tried to speak.

There was nowhere to go.

My ears rang, and I was alone with the voices in my head.

I was drowning again, and nobody could save me.

 The pressure inside of me paralysed me, the voices encaged me, and my soul felt so heavy, and I was burning. Was heading straight into the waters to extinguish the fire.

 Agony filled my head and body and soul. I was shattering, falling apart. There was nothing which could unravel my thoughts, and I was igniting from within.

I came to a halt – and when I stopped, I heard something which was not the little girl’s stolen voice, anyone’s stolen voice.

  ***

  The labyrinth in Phantomhive Manor’s garden was made of hedges and flowers, and every autumn, the leaves would change their colour and the flowers would fade away.

  ***

  It took me a while to realise that I had fallen onto the ground.

I was lying on my back, my eyes fixed on the never-changing grey sky, my right arm holding my left.

My ears rang and my body should hurt from the fall, but I did not feel anything. I only felt like I was burning from the inside of my numb body.

I didn’t understand what had happened. How had I been able to hear anything within these walls? What was the thing I had heard? A new voice? A cry? A scream? Or something completely different?

  “Can you hear me?” asked the little girl with the dark blue eyes when the shadows gathered around Cloudia, watching her lying on the ground from above.

“You suddenly collapsed to the ground. Are you fine? You scared me. You should not scare me. That’s not nice. It’s so scary already.”

  I was so tired.

I had been tired for so long now, but now, the little bit of energy I had left seemed to vanish faster than it had before – leaving me bit for bit with every breath I took.

  “I can understand,” the little girl told her. “I am so tired as well…”

  ***

  And eventually, the leaves would fall.

  ***

  My eyes threatened to flutter closed; I couldn’t keep them open anymore.

  “It is all right; it is all right,” the monsters sang around her and outstretched their hands. “Come with us; we will keep you safe. We know a place far away, a city of eternal rest…”

  All the other times, I had kept on fighting until I couldn’t anymore and beyond.

  “You don’t have to be scared,” said the old man, his gaze far away and his words void of warmth.

“I am here to strengthen you,” said the sad-eyed man without any joy.

“I am here to hold you,” said the boy with the raven hair and stepped aside.

“Who even cares for you?” said the woman behind the veil and turned away.

The man knelt down next to her. “Let us go together,” he said without any softness and when he smiled, he did it without his usual sincerity.

“If you go there, I think, I won’t be lost anymore,” said the little girl who was not little anymore, but her eyes were still the same dark blue. “I think we won’t be lost anymore. I think we won’t be tired anymore.”

“You should go,” said a new shadow, a shadow with no face. “You have failed and your time has come to go.”

  ***

  Without the leaves, all the walls of the labyrinth were bare and all passages visible.

  ***

  “I will wait for you there,” said the man, the last man. “Your time has come to follow me to the city where I have my throne.”

  For a short, short moment, my eyes closed, but I dug my fingers into my arm and my mouth opened to cry out but no sound came out again.

I had to stay awake; I had to stay awake.

I had kept this up for so long now; this could not be the end now. This could not be my end now.

  “But isn’t it easier to follow me?” said the odd-eyed man. “You fought for so long. You deserve to follow an easier way now.”

  No.

This was not the right way.

  “But, tell me – which one is the right one then?”

  I had no idea.

  “Then, how do you know that I am wrong?”

  ***

  The labyrinth had lost its essence.

  ***

  No matter how deep I dug my fingers, I felt no pain to keep me awake. And I had become accustomed to the pain in my head and the fire burning in my bones.

 It was inevitable. I was about to drift away.

To drift away to the bottom of the ocean.

To sink deeper into the snow beneath me.

To be caught in the shadows residing in the well.

 I kept falling down; I kept falling down.

I was collapsing under the weight of my soul and kept on falling down, down and down…

Kept falling down into a darkness which did not come. Whose arrival was swallowed by a familiar green light and the start of the same old, broken record.

 But in this moment, in this fracture of a second, in this gap between those two hells when my vision was blurry and the world gave away to the record, I glimpsed at an oddity: at a world where the walls and the monster girl were not there, where none of the monsters were, where the sky was not grey and where there were sound and a castle in the distance.

  ***

  And what seemed so scary and impossible to conquer before didn’t seem scary or impossible anymore.

  ***

  The realisation came with the surprise and intensity of rocks thrown through a window. But, finally, I knew. Knew what monsters they had meant, knew why they called Manon a witch.

Finally, I could see what was right in front of me – and I held onto this clarity, never letting go, and woke up.

  ***

  With the clouds gone from her vision, the sky was a spectacle of brilliant red and orange giving away to an intense blue, and the soft rain strengthened the colours and set the sky ablaze.

Groaning, Cloudia sat up and pain ran through her body, but this time, it came from her left arm which she had been clutching for so long now. Now, she took her hand away and examined the wound, blood dripping from the torn open wound and mixing with the rain. For a moment, Cloudia closed her eyes and held her face up to the sky, letting the rain fall onto her and listening to its gentle tip-tap on her skin and the ground. She breathed in the clean air to cool herself down, but her body kept on burning.

When Cloudia opened her eyes again, she looked right into a rifle barrel.

“I think you shouldn’t fire this from this range,” Cloudia told him sleepily, and Axel Shade laughed.

“You’re awake? Nobody ever woke up. How impressive, Lady Cloudia,” he spat out before bracing the rifle back against his shoulder.

“I thought you weren’t allowed to kill me,” Cloudia pointed out.

He grinned. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s only a tranquiliser. Aren’t you a lucky girl? You would have been long dead if I had a say in–”

Before Axel could finish his sentence, Cloudia’s right arm shot forward and her fingers tightened on the rifle while she kicked Axel as hard as she could between the legs. He let out a scream and his grip on the weapon loosened, allowing Cloudia to press it hard against his shoulder, making him stumble back and lose his grip completely. Much to her luck, Axel was still preoccupied with the agony between his legs, and even though Cloudia was only able to stand up slowly, she was quicker back on her feet than Axel had recovered from the attack.

Axel, as soon as his pain had lessened, threw himself at her. He managed to hit the wound on her arm, making her wince in pain before Cloudia hit him in the face with the rifle’s butt plate. He stumbled back, and she hit him again, making him fall down hard to the ground, unconscious.

Panting, Cloudia stood over Axel’s unmoving body before she sank to her knees. She put the rifle down and bit down on her lip while she ripped apart a piece of her threadbare dress and knotted it around her injured arm.

  What now?

  Cloudia let her gaze wander through the now-empty courtyard, her head and heart still heavy. The castle was about 200 metres away, the door to the dungeon still open as always. She narrowed her eyes. The rain had washed most of it away, but there was undoubtedly a bloody line leading to the castle. It did not lead to the dungeon door, though, but to a wall – or, to be exact, another hidden door.

  Apparently, Leon had already been caught.

  Blinking away her blurring vision, Cloudia examined the rifle and realised only now that it looked like nothing she had ever seen before. Then, she went through Axel’s clothes, finding a bag of darts for the odd rifle and a gun, presumably the one with which he had shot her. Cloudia tucked the gun away and took one of the nine darts out of the bag and rammed it into Axel’s leg for safety measures. When she was done, she put the bag of darts away too and picked up the rifle before standing up and moving towards the dungeon door.

  My head hurt, my vision blurred, my ears rang – and I was burning from the inside out. But I was so close to the Witch’s Castle now, so close to take back what was mine and ruin this place. To wrap this up and get back home.

  The rain kept falling while the blue slowly and gradually won over the fire which had spread over the sky – but the fire inside of her did not want to be extinguished. Instead, her body kept heating up.

  I had to keep on going. I had to keep on going. I had to keep on going–

I couldn’t give up now.

I could not die here in this hellhole. Not when I was so close. Not ever.

 I was Cloudia Phantomhive, and I would not die today. But still, it felt like I would.

I had to keep on going. Even if my body would never stop burning, I had to keep on going.

 I was so close to the castle now. Only a few more steps. But the light above was so bright and the rain so loud…

 I was right in front of the door, only had to take one more step to get inside…

And then, from the corner of my eye, I saw movement before I heard a voice – male, but not quite – and

  [White Space]

[kurobruja]

Hum hi. Excuse me, what do you think of Claudia P/Undertaker??

I’m very fond on that.

I think we, in the future, we’ll have in canon that the relationship was real. Yes, perhaps not in a romantic sense, but I do think Undertaker had/has feelings for her, and that’s one of the reasons why he is doing the Bizarre Dolls things. Not that I justifiy over that, but it’s a kind of twisted romantic reason to do that.

I also like a lot that “Ciel!quarter of shinigami” theory, so yes, you can say I like that ship, and the implication it may have for the plot.

[naehja]

I support....

                          UNDERTAKER X CLAUDIA PHANTOMHIVE

[tiffany-s-boudoir]

Welcome to the Phantomhives table

Victorian dishes (Pinterest)

Some of these illustrations are period. I can imagine quite well the manor table with these wonders.