#i think there's a brim under the turtle as well lol

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Notes:

Well, that was a more loaded chapter lol. Let me know what you thought of the mystery elements and romantic subplot. I had to up the rating from this chapter onwards. Thanks for sticking with me till now! I've been very deliberate for this story to be a slow burn, and now -after nearly 230 book pages later (can you believe that?)- the dynamic between Sebastian and Cielle is quickly intensifying. There will be a "certain scene" coming up, but I plan to do it tastefully, so I doubt I'll be pushing the rating to 'explicit.' It'll likely be kept to 'mature.' We'll see.

One of my new years resolution is to finish up this story, so I hope I'll be able to stick with that goal. If I'm not updating in a timely fashion, feel free to hound me until I do. In fact, I beg of you. Seriously. I really, really, want to finish their story beautifully, and the occasional check-ins have always helped me not to completely fall off the writing train. Thank you so much for that <3 It means a lot.

HAPPY NEW YEAR! Here's to a great writing and reader year xoxo

Chapter 15: Stalemate

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Eyes closed, head thrown back, sweat glistening on her brow . . . The girl stiffened and cried out as Eros swept through her soul like wild fire. It was a vigorous duel of muscle, tongue on tongue, flesh on flesh, entwined hand in hand . . . The small body shook, convulsing as those gloved hands parted her. Wider and wider and widest. A strangled gasp escaped her lips as the dastardly tongue explored. Deeper and deeper and deepest, finding the most intimate of places. In slow rhythmic motions, it swirled, it circled, it caressed. It kissed — in the most blasphemous manner — like a lover.

"Mm, mistress."

She arched, her traitorous hands gripping silky raven locks.

"Young mistress..."

A delicious throbbing, nothing but obliterating sensation, pulsated from her core. It sent her soaring and echoed through her entire body. Thrilling and swelling, it filled her to the brim, and she rippled against him like a wave on the sea.

"Young mistress... it is take to wake up."

I awakened with a sharp intake of air. The spasm between my legs subdued to oblivion, the fleeting pleasure leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake. I quelled my erratic breathing and squeezed my eyes against the light. Morning winter sun streamed through the curtains being drawn by... No, I couldn't bear to look at that face. Not now.

"Time to rise and shine, young mistress."

"You mean caffeinate myself and hope for the best." I turned, back facing the butler and hoped the words sounded unaffected, though I was anything but. Slinking my head under the duvet, I retreated like a turtle into its shell. "Ten more minutes."

"Come now, you are far too old for this." A soft sigh filled the air when I made no motion to move. "I shall count to three. One…two…three.”

"Four," I whispered to myself under the covers.

I felt the blanket wrenched off me. "Why you—!"

Sebastian folded the blanket and gestured to the breakfast on a tray. "Since you overslept, you missed the dining hall's breakfast hours. I procured whatever I could find from the kitchen and prepared deviled eggs and a slice of bread with raspberry jam and lemon curd. I hope you will make do with this simple meal." He kept his tone polite, professional, much to my relief.

Given the incidents last night, a part of me had feared something would irrevocably shift between us. Feared, and perhaps desired.

My stomach burbled.

"Goodness, one would think I'm not feeding you."

"Don't speak to me as if I were a pet."

"On contrary, I was speaking to you as a spoilt child who refuses to eat vegetables. Small wonder you are skin and bones."

"Then maybe you should indulge my sweet tooth more often. I wouldn't say no to chocolate gateau if you made it daily."

He tsked. "Really mistress, you are as greedy as Hansel and Gretel gorging themselves on a house of sweets."

"An apt comparison, Sebastian," I said, grateful for our mundane swordplay of words. "I find you have much in common with the old child-eating witch."

The butler gave a tight smile, and I crinkled my nose. This whole exchange was routine...normal...good. Lacking. Restlessness stirred in my bones.

Slowly, I ate a bite. The meal may not have been the more elaborate breakfasts of poached salmon with scones and a mint salad, but it tasted satisfying nonetheless. As usual, those hands never disappointed...

"I confess I quite missed this, Sebastian."

"I am glad to hear," he said, not meeting my gaze. "How would you like your tea, young mistress?"

"Less sugar this time. Make it hot. Black and strong." This time, I caught his eye.

"That is not what you usually ask for," he noted coolly. "Perhaps your preferences have changed since coming to the academy."

"Or maybe that was my preference all along."

Sebastian latched a steady gaze upon me as as I licked the sweet remnants of jam from my fingers, letting it stain my lips flush-pink. Not breaking eye-contact, I wrapped my lips around my thumb. I pushed it in, well past my mouth, and sucked the patch of skin. When I pulled the digit out, a smack noise filled the silent room.

The demon butler held himself well. Too well. Wordlessly, he went about his tasks, his movements collected and brisk. Precise as ever. I frowned. It was as if nothing had occurred between us at all. Those oil slicked hands on my bare skin, that cunning tongue lapping my neck... those lips, kissing me until I nearly forgot my own name...I shivered. The images of last night burned hazily in my mind's eye, and I might have attributed it all to a fleeting dream until I spied the evidence from last night's transgressions. I flushed at the melted candle atop the nightstand. To make no mention of that, not even a quip or taunt...?

"Your tea, mistress."

I reached out for the teacup and saucer, my fingers millimeters from grazing gloved ones had they not quickly averted my touch. My brows furrowed. His sudden aloofness this morning was a stark contrast from last night. Forcing a casual demeanor, I sipped the tea and cleared my throat. "It looks like that day is coming up soon, Sebastian."

"That day...?" Sebastian lowered his eyes until recognition flitted through them. "Ah, of course. It wouldn't due to forget."

"I trust the servants won't try something haphazard like last year." I shuddered at the charred surprise birthday cake that the trio had attempted to bake last year.

"I would not worry about that, my lady. Fortunately, they seem to have forgotten about it given how preoccupied Miss Irene's dogs keep them. I suppose those beastly creatures have their use," he murmured. "Moreover, this year I intend to partake in this event alone." His voice dipped an octave. "I confess I have been looking forward to this particular day in December all year, young mistress."

My mouth went dry. "Have you now?"

"Of course. After all, the Great Exhibition at the Crystal Palace only occurs once a year, and I refuse to let the hapless trio accompany me this year. The quality of toiletry items hardly compares to the ones we normally purchase for the manor.”

Toiletries? I coughed on my tea, spraying drops of liquid on the tray and myself.

"Gracious, compose yourself. Even newborns suckle their breakfast without creating such a mess."

"Shut it, you." The nerve of him. Granted, I never cared to celebrate the day that had become the bane of my existence, but to appear unaware of it altogether... insultingly so. Or perhaps he was well aware of it and much rather spend his time sampling damn toiletries instead.

A gloved hand dabbed the drops of tea from my lap. Despite my frosty mood, I stilled at the gesture, locking my gaze with Sebastian's. His eyes darkened, a quiet flicker passing through them as the satin clad fingers migrated to the corner of my lips, soaking away the scant droplets of tea. He was close, so close yet so far away.

I was engulfed with the desire to reel him in by that sleek tie when he withdrew—almost cruelly. He rose to his full height, his back turned to me. "If you'll excuse me, mistress."

"Leaving so soon?" Bitterness drenched my voice.

"I must prepare for the day's lessons among various other tasks."

I curled my fingers tightly, unable to continue this pretense any longer. “What, no wax massage today?”

"That hardly seems appropriate at the moment."

"And when is a massage like that ever appropriate?"

"I was under the impression you enjoyed that, young mistress."

"I could say the same of you," I shot back.

There it was again, our sparring words, one quip after another, all without any resolution.

Sebastian paused, taking in my glower before lightly replying, "Naturally, it pleases me when my mistress finds my services to her liking."

The muscles in my shoulders coiled. Was that all? Did he only derive satisfaction from my appraisal of his so called 'services'? Did he not derive any satisfaction of his own? Well, from the way he was carrying about, it certainly seemed not. Something inside me shrank at the thought.

I rose from the four poster and snatched a fountain pen from my desk. I scribbled line after line, then thrust the slip to Sebastian. "The list for you today," I said coldly.

His brows marred his porcelain face as he gazed at the contents. "Young mistress, I fully understand the importance of tasks related to the investigation, but such inane ones... feed the beastly mutts at the manor, shine your shoes, dust the bookshelf... Do you not consider such tasks menial and unnecessary?"

"I do not disagree with you, Sebastian. They do seem quite needless, don't they?" Acid coated my tones. "Like your acts from last night."

Sebastian sighed. "Very well, since you are keen on not forgoing this...I would argue they were not entirely unnecessary."

"What the deuce are you talking about?"

"I daresay my service provided you a healthy sense of release from certain biologic urges you are too proud to admit." My face burned as a shadow of a smile crept the artful mouth. "You need not pretend, my lady. Humans are low creatures that grow restless and distracted if they ignore their baser appetites for too long. I presume you will be able to concentrate on the investigation with more clarity today."

Why, the blasted demon acted like he had done a favour for me last night.

"I expect you to finish everything on that list before the end of today," I barked. "That's an order."

Sebastian folded the paper neatly and tucked it into his breast coat pocket. "Very well, if you intend to carry yourself like a petty brat, that is really more of a you-problem, and less of mine."

I flashed him a poisonous glance. "Watch your impudence."

"Plainly speaking," he said, dismissing me, "these absurd demands seem like nothing more than a frantic attempt to grasp control. Am I wrong in my assessment?" He cocked his head to the side.

A cold rage ignited in my gut and flared through my body. Every muscle tightened, so much so that I struggled to part my lips and quip out a fitting retort other than the icy whisper of, "you are."

"Hm, is that so?" Looking disinterested in pursuing the conversation further, he opened his pocket watch which snapped smartly. "Dear me, I ought be off as my violin instruction shall commence soon, and I must attend to a private matter before that."

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. "What private matter?"

"Oh, nothing of great importance I assure you."

Sebastian sauntered to my desk and pulled open the drawer, then reached for—what looked like—a wad of parchment with handwritten lines. His handwriting. Was that a cipher—

"If you''ll excuse me, mistress. I am running terribly behind schedule." He had blocked my view, back to me, as he collected the item. My lips parted to inquire the questionable contents, when Sebastian had already crossed the threshold of the door. He glanced over his shoulder with another infuriating smile. "Oh, and I do look forward to your performance of Carmilla."

The door closed, but I was sure the damn butler heard the obscenities that unfurled behind it.

Readying myself for my morning class, I collected the blue ring from the nightstand and turned it around so that only the metal band could be seen. I took care to avoid staring at the blue stone and placed the ring upon my finger. At least this way, unwanted eyes would not see it yet I could still keep it on me for safekeeping.

I slipped out of my dormitory, frowning at my finger. I had attributed to a coincidence at first, but whenever I stared at the ring for a moment too long, a queer spell would overtake me. Leaving me dizzy, my mind in a fog, breath cut short, slumping to my knees... I had shrugged it off as psychosomatic stress or an asthmatic symptom, but I couldn't be certain anymore. Yesterday's rainy night plagued my mind. I had retrieved the ring, stared into it, fleeting triumph flickering through me before my legs gave out, delivering me to the Naiad's icy embrace. I narrowed my eyes at the ring. There was something about it...

"Cielle."

I shook myself and peered at the hallway. Jane had locked her dormitory and faced me, biting her lip. Even from this distance, I could see her eyes framed by dark circles, tired but filled with concern. She walked towards me.

"How are you doing after Sullivan's...you know..."

"I've seen better days."

A sympathetic nod, and she reached for my hand. "Perhaps the Masquerade Ball will be the bandage to the wound and get our mind of these unpleasantries. Even if it is just for a while." Despite her demure demeanor, the way she held her face was forced, betraying her distress over the whole matter. I trust you do not have a gentleman accompanying you."

Those bloody eyes flashed in my mind's eye.

"In matter of fact, I do not. But you are most welcome to remedy that."

A gleam passed over her features, so subtle that I would have missed it had I blinked. Her lips parted into a small grin. "I would be delighted to, Miss Phantomhive. Shall I meet you at your boudoir?" Her contralto voice felt like a silk sheet wrapping around me.

"Or you can come to my boudoir now." I let a slow smile play over my lips.

She exchanged a conspiratorial glance, and I gestured to my dorm, inviting her inside.

"I've something to show you, Jane." I reached for the alchemy book, careful to conceal Basel Phantomhive's name. I opened to the pages of interest. "I picked this from the library, thinking it might provide us an ounce of distraction. "What do you make of this?"

Her eyes gleamed, delighting in the symbolism as I knew she would. "It's a sequence of alchemical operations encoded allegorically in words. Each "key" describes a step in the process by which the philosopher's stone may be created."

"The stone that transmutes metal into gold?" I wrinkled my nose. "I would assume modern day people have transcended entertaining such notions like the philosopher's stone."

Jane smiled a touch. "The philosopher's stone has various myths attached to it. Turning metal into gold is just but one of its more common, but trivial myths..."

"What other myths then?"

"Well, some say it can it could help humans achieve immortality, heal any illness, create perpetually burning lamps. Essentially, its main purpose is to bring whatever it touches into a state of perfection. Even the soul."

The words piqued my intrigue. "A perfect soul?"

"Why yes, many believe it holds to the key to fully developing and cultivating the soul, but I suppose that's more of a metaphor. The philosopher's stone is said to have three components actually. Body, mind, and soul. When all of these components unite, a state of perfection is reached." Jane paused, scrutinizing the text. "It seems as though the author has broken each of these 3 components into 4 phases...or 12 keys in this case."

"Interesting... I never thought of dividing up the 12 keys like that."

Jane stilled, her eyes still pinned on the page. "How interesting...the alchemist included the 12 zodiac signs, one for each step. Calcination for Aries, Congelation-Taurus, Fixation-Gemini, and so forth... until the twelve step: Projection-Pisces."

"I noticed." I kept my response short, careful not to divulge too much information. Like how each key involved the 12 birthstones from the Queen's stolen diadem. "Can you decode any more?"

Jane hesitated. "I'm not sure, Cielle. All of this looks awfully complicated. The keys are written in such a way as to illuminate as well as to conceal."

"Sounds like it is right up your alley then," I said, referring to her artbook on Da Vinci's symbolism.

"It is..." Despite her reluctance, interest sparked her eyes. "Oh very well. I shall do my best to assist you, Cielle "Whatever it takes to find those missing girls." Her grip on the book tightened with resolve.

"Excellent. I must thank you-" My smile tapered. Jane's wrist...

"Is that another bruise?" I asked.

Jane let her arm fall to her side, the dark mark hidden from my view. She released a light laugh."I am embarrassed that you, out of all people, must constantly see evidence of my clumsiness. I really ought to keep my distance from those poorly crafted bunsen burners."

"Is that so?" I ran a glance over her, the pretense of a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Shall we be off now? Or shall we stall and come up with some grand excuse when we are late to violin lessons."

My eyes flared. "I-I thought we had literature in the morning and music lessons as our last class today."

"Didn't you know? The schedule each week alternates. Professor Sinclair reminded us all in the beginning of last class."

The class which I had been late to. Of course, that slippery creature would conveniently forget to mention that to me. I had thought of putting together some half-arsed performance of Carmilla during lunch break, but now I wouldn't even have the time for that. Petty demon was trying to shake my composure in the most small, but infuriating of ways.

It was working.

"That damn-damn... rantallion."

Jane covered a hand over her mouth, eyes wide at the profanity no aristocrat would utter in company. Or even in private.

"You'll have to excuse me, Jane. I haven't slept that well last night, and I'm considerably cranky."

"That's all right," she said with a small chuckle. "Truthfully, I can't remember the last night I got a proper sleep."

I'd bet. Considering she was caught in a midnight tryst just days ago.

Somewhere a bell began chiming. Jane and I decided to take the shortcut through the rose garden. We ran through the rain together, our hands covering our heads, though little did that do. I gave a side-long glance at Jane and thought this was a good time as any to voice the incessant question on my tongue.

"Jane...I don't mean to be nosy but... that Eton boy that snuck out of your room. I thought it was curious you arranged to meet him." I choose my words carefully, not wanting to offend and have her close up on me. "I'm afraid I must apologize for I had thought for certain that you had a strong dislike for young gentlemen in general."

"You need not apologize for that." Her lips twitched. "You aren't wrong."

"Then...?"

"Pay no mind to my romantic affairs. If one can even call them that. They are merely a form of entertainment, and a way to get in some healthy, ah, exercise." She sidled up to me and whispered in my ear like a mischievous pixie. "You should know that I am much fonder of you, Cielle."

My line of vision followed the raindrop trickling down her smiling rose mouth. "That makes the two of us I suppose."

Jane laid her hand upon mine, a light, barely-even-there touch. Her eyes glistened at me and she smiled again, a maidenly blush colouring her cheeks. Without another word, she resumed her pace, walking a step ahead of me. I fixated on her the back of her hair, the wet locks caressed by the wind, her ivory neck beaded with raindrops, the hem of her muslin dress lapping against her long legs. It felt as though I were caught in a spell, and Jane looked like a daydream in the rain. A flicker of a moment, and the girl blurred into someone else. A character from a storybook.

Carmilla.

I blinked hard and drove the random musing away, swatting it like a pesky bird. Bloody story was getting to me.

Side by side, we exited the courtyard garden and trundled through the hallways. We slipped into violin classes, and to my relief, I did not see Sebastian. I seated myself next to Jane when 'Professor Sinclair' strode in. His eyes drifted toward me. "I see that arriving early to class is not part of your virtue."

I held back a scowl, sorely tempted to inform the git that I still wasn't late. But I suppose he'd turn it on me regardless. Damned if you do and damned if you don't. Sebastian quietly watched as I pulled my chair closer to Jane.

"My apologies, sir," I said, outwardly pleasant, inwardly seething.

"Tell me, have you practised your assignment, Miss Phantomhive?"

"I have, professor," I replied sweetly.

Without his prompting, I stood with the violin under my chin and played the piece. Most dreadfully.

I butchered every other note and made exaggerated theatrical expressions to the music. Raising my brows at discordant fortes, squeezing my eyes at whining pianissimos, I must have looked ridiculous. I didn't care. Served the blasted demon right for assigning me the theme of Carmilla when he knew how much I despised the story. I watched in wicked delight as the girls' faces around me morphed into appalment. But none of their expressions was as satisfying as Sebastian's. Crimson eyes glittered in a saturnine face.

I drew out the final note, quite pleased with myself, then lowered the violin.

Sebastian stayed quiet for several moments, then spoke. "Truly impressive. To go from mediocre to that level of abysmal in a span of a day. Care to explain what sort of mockery is this?"

"No mockery at all, sir." I made my eyes large and tone innocent as a lamb. "Perhaps your teaching instruction is simply ineffective on me."

"I highly doubt my teaching instruction is to blame. My methods are extremely effective." He peered through his spectacles, his stare cutting. "It is clear you did not and do not wish to put in sufficient effort. Had you done so, none of the class nor I would have been subjected to such horrendous playi—"

Lightning tore apart the skies, then came a deafening crash of thunder. I reacted before I blinked. Before I could even think. I jumped, my arm instinctually shooting out. I gripped a fistful of fabric in my shaking fingers while a hand circled my waist at the exact moment.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself under Sebastian's penetrating gaze, his strong hand holding me to his chest, my shaking hand tangled in his cloak... Our eyes remained locked, the air between us crackling. I could feel it—our infernal connection ablaze. Slowly, I grew aware of the wide-eyed faces around us save for Jane who had pursed her lips into a taut line. Face burning, I recoiled far away Sebastian.

"I have astraphobia since a child," I explained in a quick, breathless step. To my surprise, two of the girls offered me sympathetic glances and the rest did not question me at all. Jane merely narrowed her eyes at Sebastian and then me.

Sebastian clapped his hands, a considerable distance from me now. "We shall not let the storm hinder our practice but use it to as a backdrop to our playing."

Twenty minutes passed, and as Sebastian came around to check each of our playing, he skipped over me. I did not understand why that bothered me as much as it did. I strained in my seat, crossing and uncrossing my legs. I didn't dare to look his way for the remainder of class. When the bell gave a shrill ring, Sebastian finally settled his attention upon me.

"You are all dismissed except for Miss Phantomhive. If you will stay behind for some extra work."

Angelica shot me a venomous look, as if wishing desperately to trade places with me. She and Alice dragged their exit, asking Sebastian if their fingering was correct. I was rather relieved when he corrected them verbally instead of a hands-on demonstration, and saw them out.

All the girls dismissed, I slunk behind, closing the door behind me.

"Well, you seem popular, professor."

"Would you expect me not to be?"

I clicked my tongue. "Well? I trust you've attended to the most important tasks I've assigned you."

"Oh yes," replied Sebastian. "I spent a good portion last night perusing Basel Phantomhive's alchemical book. I would have attended to the other many tasks, but seeing as you kept me occupied last night..."

Fighting a blush, I pretended not to hear the last statement. "And?"

"I have found some points of interests. Namely a chapter that describes a hermetic ritual about creating the Stone of Lethe."

Lethe? "I recall a river associated with that name in Greek mythology. A river that belonged to goddess Lethe. Those who drink from it experienced forgetfulness and oblivion."

"Your knowledge is satisfying as ever, young mistress. The illustrations in those pages depict various subjects with eyes glazed and vacant expressions."

"Just like Irene Diaz's face during the thievery attempt." My voice grew low. "Her story matches up then, doesn't it? One moment she is engaging with Mr. 7-8-9-10-11-12 and the next moment, she finds herself in the Queen's Jewel House, with no recollection of what occurred in between."

"Indeed," said Sebastian. "Save for that peculiar shade of blue that she remembered sometime that night."

"Blue... wait." I stared at him hard. "The Stone of Lethe. What does it look like? What colour is it?"

"There was no illustration of that, though we may guess the colour from its ingredients. The main ingredient required to synthesize the stone are blue moonflowers and blue ciel."

My breath hitched. Realization dawned upon me. "Moonflowers have properties that can cause one to hallucinate, succumb to hypnotic trances, and affect one's memory."

"Correct," said Sebastian.

"And it's a key ingredient in the Stone of Lethe."

"Correct."

"Which is likely the colour blue."

"Likely correct."

I raised my hand to my face and turned the metal band on my finger so that the blue-stoned ring faced Sebastian in full view.

"Sebastian, I think this is the Stone of Lethe."

"I would be inclined to agree," he said quietly.

"I can't believe it. That this ritual sort of alchemy is real. It defies all logic."

"Not everything follows logic and reasoning, my lady. After all, I am real, aren't I?" whispered Sebastian. "If angels and demons exists, it is not too far a stone's throw to say some occult practices hold water."

"I suppose this may explain some things... every since I came upon this ring, I've noticed unusual episodes. First, when I was at the stables with Sullivan. I had only held it up to the light, staring through it when a short dizzy spell instantly followed. And that happened again at the pond."

The butler frowned. "If that is the case, why not entrust the stone to me?"

"You're the last person I trust."

"You wound me, mistress."

"I shall keep it on me. As bait. It shall expedite my encounter with the cipherist, and time is of the essence."

"Very well. And has the cipherist sent you any new ciphers?"

"No... none. But I think that is because I still didn't solve a previous one. Hardly a cipher. It was just a blank piece of paper stuffed in the nook of my door. Unlike the rest of the ciphers I know, but it probably contains some sort of message."

"Well, I bid you good luck in solving that." And then he was done. I blinked as he shifted his attention from me and sorted through some sheet-music for the next class.

"Is that it?" I said, my voice chilly.

A puckered brow marred Sebastian's face. "Is what it?"

"Are you planning on coming to my quarters tonight? To discuss the rest of the case."

"If it pertains to our investigation, then I will make myself available then."

I considered his deliberate words. "And if it is not related to the case?"

"You'll have to be more specific, young mistress. Is there something else you require from me?"

"I want you...to..."

"Yes?" His voice turned gentle, mocking. Try as he may to softly break through my hard exterior, I wouldn't crumble in front of him.

"I want... you to never do that again."

His lids lowered. "Do what exactly?"

"You kissed me," I shouted, an empty laugh. "And then you-you have the audacity to pretend like it never happened!"

"I kissed you," he said matter-of-factly, "because you wanted me to."

"I never bloody requested you to—"

"There are other ways to request things of me without uttering the words. But you know that don't you, young mistress?" He stroked the pentagram mark on his hand, and I could feel a heated tingle in my contracted eye. "Do you know why I skipped you during class? Because of this. Your eyes might have been elsewhere but your mind certainly was not. I could feel all of it—your anger, confusion, and desire. Desire for your servant, no less."

I drew in a sharp breath. My back pressed against the sharp edge of the piano. I felt like I was drowning, desperately looking for a rope to save myself, but the unrelenting beast had severed it.

Sebastian finally eschewed his measurable distance and leaned close, pearly canines peaking. "I realize you want my attention," he whispered a hair breadth away from my lips. "And I fully intend to give you it, Miss Phantomhive."

A shiver of dread and anticipation crawled over me. "What are you saying?"

"I think a punishment is in order." He strode to the edge of the room and retrieved the violin I had played. "I want the assignment completed. You'll perform Carmilla on violin again, however, now I do not expect a satisfactory performance or a good one." He lowered his face until it was aligned to mine and tilted my chin up with the long, sleek violin bow. "I expect a phenomenal performance out of you. Every note punctuated with emotion, with meaning, with Carmilla’s desire..." His voice dipped, soft yet dangerous. “However, if you repeat today's performance, I shan't think twice about using the whip."

"You aren't serious."

"Try me." His breath feathered against my face. "You may hold my reigns as my mistress, but you are in my domain here. As your professor, it is you who will listen to me."

I grit my teeth, silent. Perhaps if I hated him less, I could easily make a retort right now.

Sebastian adjusted his spectacles. "Well, have you any more to say?"

I pursed my lips.

"I thought as much."

With an infuriating flick of a hand, he dismissed me, in similar fashion as the many times I had done to him. My heels pounded on the rosewood floors, all the way back to my dormitory.

The door behind me slammed hard. I disrobed, discarding the garments in a flurry of anger. Stockings, blouse, corset, drawers fell haphazardly around. Aggrieved, I let the final garment—my skirt—pool to my feet, then kicked it aside. The nerve of him. I prepared a torrid bath, needing to wash my frustrations away. Instead of easing myself, I plunged into the steaming waters. I hissed. Droplets splashed over the rim of the tub, rivulets spilled on the geometric floor tiles. Chin down, I submerged myself and my thoughts.

The dynamics had once more shifted between us. I should have known that the slippery demon would milk this situation and seek petty revenge on me. Then again, I had never risen above pettiness either. I didn't know which one unnerved me more, his behavior or how closely we mirrored each other. Like two sides of the same coin.

My anger melted into quiet unease. I unclenched my hand and stirred the bathwater with a forefinger, circling and circling and circling. Akin to how Sebastian and I were carrying about. This game...this fluctuation between cold apathy and burning want... How long would it last?

I rose from the tub. A trail of water followed to my room. Drying off with a linen, I stared at myself in a gilded mirror perched on the desk. Face strained, wet tresses falling to the small pink swells, flushed lips intaking bouts of air, thighs pressed together... the petite body restraining to keep itself at bay. How could I become so affected?

I traced my fingers across my damp skin; first my face, then décolletage, arms, stomach, and southward. Ripples of delight flowed through me. I watched myself in the mirror, softs pants escaping my lips, darkening eyes fixated on every motion. I collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to change into a nightgown. The satin sheets felt cool against my bare, burning skin. Temptation ignited my blood, enticing me to alleviate the restlessness emanating from my core. As much as I wanted to, I hesitated.

The solitary vice dominated Victorian guides on morals and manners. I recalled one rainy day when I had stumbled upon such a book in the manor's library. J.H. Kellogg, a well-known author on the subject—and incidentally the creator of the cornflake—urged those tempted to indulge themselves to avoid mustard, pepper, rich gravy, beer, wine, cider and tobacco, for these supposedly created a craving for sensual gratification. Asinine really, it was. Yet... why did the thought fill me with overwhelming shame?

Because he provoked this. Giving in was letting him win, whether he was aware or not of it made no difference. I would not succumb to the devil.

Trying to preoccupy myself, I retrieved the blank paper that the cipherist had left under my door. I toyed with the scrap, turning it, inspecting it, turning it again. Mindlessly, I continued these repetitions for several minutes until my mind found itself in some meditative, dream-like state. Moonlight streamed through my room, inviting and sensuous, then vanished for a second as though a shadow had flitted through the window. Exhaling deeply, I put down the paper and stretched myself against the four poster.

A pervasive sense of possession filled the space. I could feel it, a burning desire turning me to sin. I closed my eyes, but only to see unholy crimson ones. The need winning over my shame, I touched myself. Lightly as first, just grazing. Experimental. Then pressing firmer and deeper.

The shadows thickened at the end of my bed and coalesced into a solidified form. A pair of eyes glittered like black diamonds, hard and brilliant; sculpted lips curved in a smile; ivory fangs gleamed in the moonlight. Those devilish eyes latched upon me, urging me on. My hand become his. Squeezing, stroking, massaging, kneading my sensitive flesh. Slowly, I rolled my hips and stifled a moan into the satin pillows. The presence in my room grew overwhelming—yet not enough. Nowhere close to it.

The face flickered with wicked depravity as I bucked my hips, then fell on my back. Pinned underneath, begging and moaning, writhing, my body arching into the pleasure. More, more. I spread myself wider, my knees far, far apart. Relentless hands gripped my thighs, forcing them even farther apart until I felt the tendons straining. The beast kissed my lips while stroking the other lips. Its touch was gentle and harsh, enticing and repellent, searing and chilly.

An ungloved thumb caressed the sensitive nub. I cried out. Power beyond words lurked in the beast's gaze, and no matter how much I wanted to, something like a magnetic force ensnared my line of vision. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the creature's. Its serpentine tongue, crept out, moist and glistening. Circling and circling and circling. My mouth stretched into a silent scream, and I shook as a pulsating force rushed through me. Still, it wasn't enough. I needed more, more of this feeling. Pushing in, pulling out, working my hips from side to side… doing all I could to grasp this fleeting pleasure for as long as I could. Gasping, I gripped the satin sheets with both hands as the aftershocks subsided.

Breathing hard, I lay still, limbs heavy. Not quite content, but not discontent either. My eyes drifted closed, seeing nothing-feeling nothing but Sebastian. As Morpheus claimed itself and lulled me to a sleep, the blank paper fell from my bed to the floor, blissfully forgotten.

Notes:

About time I posted this. Tbh, I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. I felt I was going crazy with all the additions and deletions and figured what the hey, you haven't updated this in freaking 5 months, just post whatever you have. Aiming for progress, not perfection lol. Hope it reads okay ^.~* Let me know your thoughts! or if you just want to say hi ;D

Stay safe <3

Chapter 16: That Butler, Exposé {Sebastian's POV}

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

That Butler, Exposé

{Sebastian's POV}

Classes had finished for the evening, and the investigative tasks for the day had been carried out. I had completed each item on the list, no matter how menial or absurd. Now, I had a rare moment to myself sequestered inside Cielle's dormitory.

I penned line after line in tempest. The petulant brat. Did the girl see me as some work horse?

My hold on the fountain pen tightened.

The orders grew more and more high-handed, with several completely unrelated to the case. All of which only hindered me from my own more discreet errands. My brow twitched as I copied a cipher.

While I could see quite plainly that Cielle was a bundle of nerves due to the case, I could hardly empathize with her atrocious demeanor. At violin lessons, she had quickly become one of my worst students, taking pride in her abominable playing. Or rather, taking pride in getting under my skin. Worse yet, her questionable thoughts had only intensified, deepening that new essence which flavoured her soul. Threatening my composure further yet. Despite keeping my distance, it hardly helped the matter in the slightest, but rather had the opposite effect.

Rosy lips curled around her thumb. Licking the jam, pinning her eyes on me while she breakfasted. Goading me.

I pressed harder on the parchment, ignoring my slipping restraint.

Those obscene cries last night; my name moaned over and over. Her depraved pleasure penetrating me through the contracted mark. Testing my sanity to the limits.

Black ink bled through the parchment. I released my grip on the pen. The nib had broken into pieces, smearing ink on the page.

Dear me, this wouldn't do.

"Sebastian?"

The door creaked open and Cielle leaned against the frame. "Well, you're writing up a storm. What are you doing?"

"Nothing you need to be concerned about," I said in a nonchalant tone. I straightened out the wad of parchment, careful to conceal the contents from Cielle. She stared warily as I tucked the papers inside my robe.

Now, it was my turn to stare at her. The girl flitted past me and upturned her knapsack, letting her notes, textbooks, and sheet music spill onto the floor. Then she plopped herself on the bed in a supine position. Her back on the bed, hair touching the floor, hands across her belly, she glowered at me upside-down.

My brow twitched. "Really, this childish behavior is a bit much. Even for you."

"This is my room, hence I'll do as I please. Besides..." A glint flashed in her eye. "You're in my domain here. Last time I checked, professors frequenting a girl's dorm might cause trouble."

Using my own words against me? How expected. Pressing my lips into a thin smile, I removed my spectacles so that she bore the brunt of my unnerving gaze directly. "Is this supposed to be a half-hearted threat? As I recall, I am only answering your calls."

"Yes, we have much to discuss." She sat up on the bed. "Have you finished everything on my list?" The girl's question sounded more like a waspish demand. I had little doubt another outlandish order would soon ensue from her lips.

"I have."

"Good. Because I've another task for you. I need you to mend my old parasol at the manner and bring back some pepper powder."

It took a few seconds before I could speak. "Pepper powder?" I repeated, in a tone that made certain two plus two equaled four.

"Pepper powder," she said. "And the parasol."

Silence.

Was the impudent girl trying to get a reaction out of me? Of all the ridiculousness and utter flippancy...

"Cat got your tongue, Sebastian?"

Reminding myself of the soul I had cultivated for this long, I summoned every bit of patience I possessed and smiled thinly at her. "Not at all. I was only thinking if the mistress has time to concoct such asinine requests, I should think she has finished my assignments."

Cielle scoffed. "I have more important things to do than humour you playing at professor."

I donned the spectacles again. "Hands out if you would."

"Why?" she said, stretching her fingers.

"You'll see." I grabbed a ruler of the desk. And smacked her knuckles with considerable satisfaction.

"Have you bloody lost it—?!"

"It shall be a whip next time," I said softly. "And more than just fingers."

Her face reddened.

"I hope you did not forget my previous warning about your Carmilla piece. I do not lie. If you refuse to correct your appalling playing, poor form, and abysmal attitude, you leave me no choice but to use the—"

Cielle released a sardonic laugh. "Oh, bite me."

Fixing her an expression that had all the warmth of the arctic sea, I glided towards her and leaned down on the bed. "I could easily do that," I whispered into her ear. Cielle sucked in a sharp breath as my gaze trailed her neck, that milky unblemished skin that was begging to be marred. Cielle glared, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of fear. I lowered myself closer, a hair's breadth away from her parted lips before pulling away. "Pray tell, what do you intend to accomplish with this foppish behavior?"

"You ought to know," Cielle whispered.

"I suppose I do know. Much more than you think I do."

"What are you talking about?"

I decided now was a good time as any to expose her inhibitions. "You must've suspected it at some point. How the depth of our contract goes far beyond what you are aware of. It is a vinculum of sorts, a tether that allows me to pick up your thoughts, your emotions, more than usual as of late given their intensity. Including the ones from last night." My whisper trickled the shell of her ear.

"What..." she breathed.

Slowly, I tilted her chin up to face me. A furious blush coloured her face. "Do you think I am unaware of last night's ongoings? Servicing yourself. Imagining it was I." My thumb stroked her bottom lip. It was trembling.

"Did you enjoy partaking in the solitary vice? I believe it was the first time you reached completion on your own." I slipped the finger into her parted mouth, and Cielle stifled a moan. "Yes...like that. Moaning my name." I thrust my finger in a rhythmic motion. Cielle's tongue wetted the gloved digit, curling around it. "Calling for me over and over, like a wanton little hussy." Cruelly, I yanked the digit from her lips, and the thread of saliva snapped.

"How dare you speak to me that way!" she spat, wiping her mouth. "Especially after you invaded my thoughts."

"I hardly invaded them. I have no need for that. As of late, your thoughts permeate so strongly from you, that all I have to do is merely stand beside you to pick up on them. And when I am not beside you, they invade my thoughts." My voice softened with cloying pity. "You can barely contain your distress. Every time I come upon you, your eyes darken, glazed with a fervor that, dare I say, is not all due to the case. Look at you, young mistress. So affected by my nearness. Your tremulous breaths, quickening pulse, dilated eyes...those depraved thoughts swirling in your head even at this very moment."

And this new essence of your soul pelting me like a raging storm.

Cielle fell silent, clenching her fists. Mirroring my own ones, slightly shaking, concealed behind my back. My talon-like nails lengthened, and the fabric cladding my fingertips pulled taut. A glove ripped. I licked my fangs, entertaining the idea of breaking the contract at this very moment.

I'd lean down, place my lips upon hers. Taste her heady essence. Her hands tangled in my hair, she'd hardly pay attention to the shadowy tendrils snaking towards her. And I'd swallow her sighs, kiss her swollen lips until she grew breathless. When she needed to break for air, my gloved hands prevented her. Her eyes enlarged with fear, much too late, as I delivered her a soul-sucking kiss in my true form. There could be no other outcome. After all, I was predator and Cielle was my prey.

"Sebastian...?"

I snapped to my senses, only just growing aware of my breathlessness. How could the girl affect me in such an atrocious manner?

It took every bit of practised restraint to not act on these thoughts. "Young mistress." The voice sounded like a growl, something between the false man I played and the beast I truly was. "It is clear you find the human form I masquerade in as attractive. I cannot fault you for that. It is also clear that you have particular needs wherein I am perfectly willing to provide you relief. But do not be foolish to regard my services as anything else."

Her lip quivered. "But don't you... feel it too?"

She did not need to specify what it was. I knew damn well what it referred to, though I wished with every fibre of my monstrous being that I didn't. "What we both feel is our bond, namely the strength of the contract. There is nothing beyond that," I said, affirming that I was telling her more than myself. "If you feel more, it is merely infatuation. I suppose I cannot fault you for that either. Such a foolish thing is natural for humans of your age. But you know there is no true affection to be had. The care and comfort you've grown accustomed to is merely part of our contract, my aesthetics, and any intimacy between us is merely a falsehood. Never forget, I am only playing a role."

Cielle's eyes glistened. "O-of course, I know that!"

"Then dissolve these feelings and remember our contracted roles," I hissed. "Your role as the Queen's watchdog, your place in society, your title."

"And if I don't care a fig for those things?"

At these words, ire welled inside me. "Then I suppose you do you not care for achieving your revenge either? As this is the first time you've made the least progress with a case, especially a case that ties so closely with your past." My voice remained even, cold. "Perhaps other affairs have taken more of a priority. I always thought my mistress played the game most splendidly, but I fear you've lost your touch altogether." I knew this would strike a sore spot in her.

Cielle clenched her jaw. "Unraveling the case will always be my first and foremost priority." She looked me square in the eye, bristling with vehemence. "I shall allow no one, absolutely no one, to spoil my game."

I dimly smiled. "I am most pleased to hear that."

More genuine words could not be uttered. Once we resumed our previous interactions, I was certain my impeccable control would return to me. Perhaps the new essence of Cielle's soul that triggered my restraint would soon dull.

The young mistress shifted her feet and stared below. "The headmaster—Delacourt—approached me this morning. I've never seen him in such a foul mood. Blasted fool had to nerve to say this case is over my head."

"I can imagine," I said, relieved for the return to normalcy. "Especially after Miss Sullivan's disappearance. Try as he may to feign a pretense of being level-headed, I've sensed a pervading cloud of frustration and anxiousness surrounding him the moment he stepped into the manor. However, now that has increased tenfold."

"Nothing I wouldn't expect."

"Indeed. His vice chancellor is no better. It may be of interest to you that Miss Hulda exhibits more anxiety than even him. Every time I come upon her in the staff room, she seems in a perpetual state of hesitation and confusion.

"That is interesting," Cielle murmured. "Have you found anything else?"

"I discovered from another faculty that the headmaster has temporarily suspended Elsa Zwolfer from the academy. I presume he took the precaution after seeing the world 'Zwolf' scrawled on Sullivan's wall."

"Probably. He says he cannot afford another disappearance. Apparently some of the students have begun to notice the missing girls. He pressed me relentlessly for developments on the case today."

"And how much did you reveal?"

"Enough to satisfy him. I told him I had good grounds to anticipate another abduction will take place at the Masquerade Ball."

"Ten lords a leaping or nine ladies dancing," I hummed. "I don't see a more perfect place to come upon either than at the ball."

"In any case, with Delacourt and Edward's cooperation—well, I have yet to write to Edward at Eton, but he'll do anything to save Lizzie—we shall tighten the nets around the cipherist this time."

"How can you be so certain? As I recall, 7-8-9-10-11-12 has escaped your clutches before. More than once."

Cielle clicked her tongue. "Well, I have a simple, but effective plan set in motion this time."

"Oh?"

"The music hall has four possible exits. One entrance in the front, one in the back, and two balconies in between. The powder room inside the hall has a tiny hopper window, but only a rat could fit through that, so we need not concern ourselves with that. Delacourt has agreed to take certain measures and place faculty members at the two entrances. All guests will be required to enter through the front entrance and leave through the back. Each will sign into a guestbook before admittance to the ball. Meanwhile, I shall station myself near the front entrance to see if I can encounter our cipherist in person. Edward will arrive with the Eton students and then patrol the grounds, seeing that no one escapes from the balconies. If any guest desires to leave, they shall leave through the back exit which you will oversee. It's a simple yet tight plan."

"I suppose so. Assuming the cipherist shows up, of course."

"He will. I know he will. After all, I still have the Stone of Lethe—which he badly wants now. And he also is hell bent on his nonsensical aesthetics." The imp caught my eye as she said this. "He is so intent on following the Twelve Days of Christmas, every line, so I fail to see why he would miss this perfect chance and spoil his aesthetics."

"Any what of the masks? How will you recognize the cipherist with his face half-covered?"

"I told Delacourt to inform the guests that a grand assortment of masks will be provided inside the ballroom. Each guest simply need to pick one to their suiting after they have signed in. The cipherist likely assumes he can saunter into the ball wearing a mask, but we will see every face going in and out of the ballroom." Her lips lifted. "Oh, add that to your list, Sebastian— two hundred masks, just to be safe."

I lowered my lids. "At least that seems more reasonable that some of your recent requests."

"When will you have it by, Sebastian?"

"I have an errand that requires me to travel to London tomorrow. Hence, I shall use that opportunity to visit Miss Nina Hopkins there and commission her to make the masks." I resisted the urge to make a face. "Though Miss Hopkins and I find each other most disagreeable, I cannot deny her exceptional talent and capability of swiftly designing outfits. If the woman could create an exquisite outfit for you during an afternoon's tea, I have little doubt she can fashion the masks we need in a timely fashion."

Cielle narrowed her eyes. "What is this other errand you have at London tomorrow?"

Instead of offering the full truth, I settled for a partial one. "Did I not mention already? I'm to pick up certain items at Great Exhibition at Hyde park—"

Cielle held up a hand. "Toiletries. For the manor. Of course, how could I forget?" Despite her annoyance, her face fell for a moment. Disappointment shadowed her lashes, and I knew exactly why.

That day was tomorrow. And I made sure outwardly, I did not seem to care at all for it.

Cielle gathered herself and looked at me, straight-faced. "Don't forget the parasol and pepper powder."

I sighed. Goodness, this petulance again? Frowning at her expression, I tuned myself to her inner emotions. And paused. Not an inkling of artifice radiated within her. No, just unwavering determination.

"Very well," I said slowly. "I shall leave the mended parasol and condiment inside your dormitory tomorrow."

"Excellent."

As I bowed and took my leave, I questioned if my young mistress had finally gone mad.

Notes:

Next chapter is a spicy one. Probably the spiciest (thus far) As always, thank you for your ever lovely comments! <3

Chapter 17: Her Butler, Indulgent

Notes:

Super self-indulgent smut ahead because hey, why the hell not. It's 2020, and we could use more indulgent pick-me-ups.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Her Butler, Indulgent

My fingers danced across the silvery strings, cajoling a rich vibrato that filled the air.

Everything was going according to plan. I had seen to the parasol and pepper powder. I had even prevented a murder today—through self-control. It took some restraint not to throttle Angelica Develigne when she remarked that Sullivan's absence had been the best thing to happen to the academy. Moreover, Edward had agreed to patrol the campus grounds during the ball, and Nina was almost finished making the masks.

Finally, control. With elegant sweeping motions, I raised the violin bow to caress the strings. The reins were in my hands once more. It was the best present I could ask for.

Eyes closed against watchful gazes, I played a tune of tempting promise, reminiscent of Carmilla's to Laura. My skirt swished in time with the music. The notes sweetened into a sultry rhythm, lingering before hitting the crescendo sharply, evoking the moment Laura realized she bore feelings for a monster. My brows furrowed. I played with intensity, with vehemence and yearning, pouring myself—no, Laura— into each note. Or at least, I hoped my facial expressions came off that way. Slowly, I opened my eyes to see Carnelian ones latched upon me. They never strayed once. Nor did mine.

After the final notes tapered off into the distance, I lowered the violin. Angelica scowled as Sebastian clapped his hands. "Much better. It appears there is hope for you yet, Miss Phantomhive."

"I was aiming for more than better. Was there something missing from my performance, professor?"

"It is almost to my exacting standards. The only thing, is well, the piece still lacks soul."

What the hell does that mean? "And how do I fix that?"

"That," Sebastian said, smiling, "is for you to figure out."

Bugger.

"A curious turnaround though," he said, rubbing his chin. "I wonder what prompted such a sudden change."

The thing knew precisely why and had the audacity to feign ignorance. "I suppose I managed once I put my mind to it."

"Your mind did seem elsewhere last time, was it not? Most fortunate it returned to where it ought to be."

"Indeed. Exactly where it ought to be." I fixed his gaze, peering at him through my lashes, and a ghost of a smile shadowed his mouth.

"Ahem," Sebastian said, finally returning his attention to our audience. "That will do for today. Now... if someone would kindly drop off the sight-reading exercise to Miss Greyling since she is absent today." Just as I raised my hand, Sebastian cold-called Alice. "I shall leave that to you, Miss Brighton, yes? Good. We shall resume our lessons in our next class. All of you are dismissed."

Making a show of gathering my belongings, I waited until the last girl left the music hall.

"Any time now, Miss Phantomhive." Sebastian checked his pocket watch.

I clicked my tongue. "You can drop the act, professor."

"I was quite serious. When I dismissed class that included you too."

"What are you on about?"

"I'm afraid I must take my leave."

I eyed him with suspicion. "Leave to...?"

"London. The Great Exhibition is being held there," he replied matter-of-factly. "I believe I had mentioned previously."

I twisted my lip. "Of course, toiletries and such for the manor. How could I forget?"

"If I finish all my duties, I shall return shortly. Until then, I bid you a good night young mistress."

Sebastian bowed, and I said nothing as he exited the hall. Watching his shadow disappear altogether, I felt something inside me shrink. Of course. What else I was expecting?

Weariness took hold of me as I climbed the creaking stairs. Retrieving the blank scrap of paper from my pocket, I sighed. I wasn't sure why I kept taking it out and looking at is. As if staring at it would conjure something on the empty space. Oh, how I wanted to wrap up this bloody case and return to the manor. Or perhaps not. I cast my eyes to the floor. Given the cult's involvement, it was a real possibility that I might discover the mastermind who subjugated me to humiliation. And then, what? The contract would end. Perhaps that was the reason why I had made little progress on the case initially.

Because I didn't want to the contract to end. No, because I didn't want this—whatever this was—with Sebastian to end.

With a somber pace, I returned to the dormitories. My legs carried me without thought. When I looked up, the name 'Jane Jason Greyling' glinted against the wall lamp. Vaguely, I registered I was standing outside's Jane's door. I reasoned it was to ask her more about the alchemical ritual. Though any others distractions that may arise from that conversation would not be entirely unwelcome... I glanced at the floor. No light underneath. Nor any tinkering sound inside. Oh well.

I dragged my feet to my quarters and stopped in my tracks. A pleasing smell permeated the air. I glanced down. Under the door’s crevice lay a note tucked three quarters the way in. Another blasted one. I hadn’t even deciphered the previous note. My eyes darted from one end of the hall to the other. Making sure I wasn’t being watched, I crouched down and snatched the slip from under the door. The second I glimpsed the neat, elegant handwriting on it, my eyes widened. I recognized that handwriting damn too well.

I hastily folded the note open and read its contents.

Young mistress,

My apologizes if I had misled you into thinking I had forgotten about the significance of today. Though you have never been keen to celebrate this ill-begotten day, understandably so, you may wish to consider a different perspective. This day marks not your birth, but a rebirth. A defining moment of a most abominable meeting. In my many existences, I still have yet to encounter a relentless contractor quite like the young mistress.

Though you claim to despise birthday celebrations, I take it you will not oppose to my preparations. Seeing that you have been working hard as of late, I thought a night of indulgence would not hurt. I selected a few things from Yardley & Co this afternoon, among the other household items I purchased at the Crystal Palace Exhibition. I trust you shall find the preparations to your liking.

Your humble servant,

Sebastian

P.S. Do help yourself to the sweets in the bath. I have heard humans say that dark chocolate may prove effective in uncluttering the mind.

I gaped, lips far apart. "Sweets in the...what the deuce—?" Fingers fumbling, I inserted the key in the lock and flung the door open. My breath caught.

The entire dormitory had been transformed. Candles flickered their light against shimmering draperies of gossamer that had replaced my dull cotton curtains. A long clothed dinner table stood before me, inladen with a dozen small silver plates, each holding a sample size of the most sumptuous food I’d ever laid eyes on. Poached lobster tail, blackberry mascarpone tart, soupe a l’oignon, Coquilles Saint Jacques on an oyster plate, raspberry millefeuilles, dainty canapés, and in the center of them lay a slice of black forest cake atop topped with sugared roses. My mouth watered.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” I whispered, closing the door.

Dazed, I circled the room, taking in the assortment of fresh lilies, roses, pink carnations, primrose, and a blizzard of fragrant winter jasmines that stood on a mirrored table. How daft to think he had forgotten. I smirked. Sebastian played the game well. I reached out and plucked the Winter Daphne from a bouquet. The flower meant "to paint the lily" or gild refined gold. Apropos given the unnecessary excess surrounding me. I lowered my lashes at the rosy-pink buds and smelled its heady sweetness. The petals tickling my nose, I paused. My hold on the Winter Daphne tightened. I jerked my head at the other flower assortments. Heat swiped my cheeks. Each flower in the room carried the same meaning—hints of sensuality and desire. I glanced at the Winter Daphne between my fingers. According to Madame Charlotte de la Tour’s Le langage des Fleurs, the poisonous flower also conveyed a desire to please.

With a sigh, I placed the blank parchment paper that had yet to be decoded atop the table and seated myself before the decadent meal. I sampled each plate, closing my eyes. Savouring each new texture, the variation of sweetness. The richness of the meal was balanced with a delicate rosebud tea. I sipped it and a bit into a piece of chocolate cake infused with merlot. Drowning in flavour, my taste buds deemed it glorious. My mind fell delightfully blank for once. I had to hand it to Sebastian. He had rendered me speechless—a rather rare feat.

I continued sampling the small plates until an unpleasant thought crossed my mind. Was my soul to him the equivalent of these dishes he had prepared for me?

My fork clattered clattered against the china. I rose from my seat, suddenly sick. I sat on the bed, eyes closed. Strong fragrance wrapped around me, but where it had been titillating moments ago, now it had become offensive. I crinkled my nose against the powerful aroma coming from the fresh flowers. Or, was it..? Frowning, I rose and followed the scent to the bathroom. I pushed the door open. And swallowed hard.

More candles burned inside, casting their glow around the edge of the tub. Rose petals floated in the viridian-tinged bathwater. The moist air contained hints of essential oils - lavender, primrose, iris, cherry blossoms, and jasmine - combined with the woody fragrance of Hinoki mineral salts. So these were the toiletries. I kneeled down to plunge my hand into the water, when I noticed the blank parchment still clutched in hand. Sighing, I lay the blank parchment on the rim of the tub, then ran my hands through the hot water. It beckoned to me as I stared into my rippled reflection. My lids lowered, and an all-encompassing sensation filled my chest, pushing out the unease.

I rose. The wool dress pooled around my feet. I eased myself into the water, stifling a moan. A pleasant heat washed over me and released the built up tension in my muscles. The water worked its magic. A wonderful and delicious languidness stole over every inch of me. The same sensations I had experienced after I had serviced myself that night, thinking of... I sank deeper and deeper into the water until it lay an inch below my nose. These feelings were illogical, a slip in my better judgment. Seeking anything beyond our contracted roles could not lead to a sound outcome. After all, underneath that prim and proper butler facade lay a beast. A starving beast who desired to consume my soul.

And yet how I loathed myself feeling powerless against his gaze, his touch, and merely being in his presence. I let out a sarcastic laugh. How ironical. The hard logic and reason, innate qualities of mine that always provided me clarity in the past were now failing me. Perhaps I ought to just accept it. The self-loathing I felt for desiring that detestable creature. Heavy-lidded, I scooped up a handful of water, and it trickled through the spaces of my fingers like liquid silk. A sigh escaped my lips.

I was well aware of the impropriety of tonight's preparations. This whole affair was so in excess that one might consider it a stepping stone to moral dissolution. Though I seldom entertained vanity to such excess, I couldn’t help reveling in the guilty pleasure. My arms encircled my knees and my toes curled in titillation. I stayed like that for a while, not caring the least that my fingertips looked like prunes. Perhaps immoderation once in a while wasn’t so bad. Speaking of which...

I stole a glance around me. Ah, there. Behind some lit candles lay a small tray of chocolate sweets. My lips parted impishly. I lifted one and bit into a bonbon. I pushed the sticky contents against the roof of my mouth. The taste coursed through my body, a moody, gutsy smoothness that slithered and glided down my throat. If I couldn't be with Sebastian, this came close. My mind flashed back to that night I had pleasured myself while thinking of him. A rich raspberry ganache dribbled over my lips and finger. I ran my tongue along the digit and sucked it, humming. My eyes closed with stupor, and I submerged my entire body under water, save my face. For the first time, my thoughts weren't scrambled or racing or bristling or puzzling something out. They were blank. Blissfully blank. Blank as the piece of paper that stared at me from the tub's corner.

Idly, I propped my arms on the edge of the tub and rested my head on them, meditating on the sweet intoxication that swirled around me. I wrinkled my nose. A new smell, faint and barely perceptible, introduced itself.

Lemon?

My eyelashes lazily fluttered open and were met by the piece of parchment paper. It lay half a foot away, flanked by two flickering candles. Inquisitiveness grabbed hold of me. Slowly, I slowly positioned myself upright in the tub. I brought the paper up closer and took a deep sniff. Most definitely lemon.

“How curious…” I hadn’t smelled it when I had examined the parchment earlier. Perhaps the humidity had drawn out and intensified its aroma. With two fingers, I turned the paper over. My eyes grew wide. Where there had been nothing before, a tinge of brown shadowed the paper.

I stood up from the tub violently, splashing water over the side. I could hardly contain myself. That was it. Heat.

I snatched up a lit candelabrum near the basin and brought the wicks close to the paper, moving it in slow, rhythmic motions. How could I have not seen it earlier? Acidic compounds possessed chemical properties that made them oxidize in the presence of heat. Like day into night, I watched the lemon transform from clear to brown. A cunning yet convenient invisible ink of sorts. The candles subtly worked its chemistry, the light brown shadow growing darker above the dancing flames. My heart drummed as tiny blurred letters emerged one by one under the lick of flames.

With bated breath, I continued steadily moving the parchment over the small flames until no more letters appeared. I read the deciphered text.

‘Come to the masquerade ball if you want the answers you seek. I will be waiting—unmasked. We shall make an exchange. Bring the stone and I shall return your dear Elizabeth. Should you not heed to these terms, I fear you may find your cousin in a most unattractive state."

"Confound it!"

My turbulent thoughts returned with vengeance, envisioning Lizzie in the worst of scenarios. Head lolling, the colour of vitality robbed from her cheeks and once brilliant green eyes, her silhouette outlined by crimson. Just like my—I grit my teeth. No. She'll be fine. She has to be.

I stared coldly at the threat. The message was obvious enough, but the queerest part was how it was sandwiched between two large letters that took up the half the length of the paper. A messily written ‘I’ and ‘Z’. The letters must’ve held some important significance. Initials perhaps...? I studied the paper again and—yes—the puzzle pieces clicked. My fingers tightened, making five crisp dents into the note.

The paper did not contain a single Z. No, the decoded sentence was wedged between a messy written ‘1’ and ‘2’. The recurring twelve.

I swore and set the candelabrum roughly on the marble counter. In my fury, half the candles went out. This wouldn’t do. It was an insult enough to the name of Phantomhives to play second fiddle in the game of chase. I couldn’t continue to waste time decoding these little puzzles and hidden messages. It was diverting me from my real objective. Retrieving Lizzie and the rest of the missing girls. Perhaps distracting me with ciphers had been the culprit’s intention all the while. No matter. I would tighten the nets around him during the masquerade ball. With resolve, I crumpled up the paper and tossed it into a nearby dust bin.

It didn’t miss.

Evening my breath, I tried to regain my composure, but shivered. In all my fervour, I had forgotten I stood on the marble floor completely naked and dripping wet. Goose bumps covered my bare skin. “M-marvelous,” I said, through chattering teeth. Grabbing a muslin cloth, I dabbed away the beads of cold water from my goose-pimpled skin. After drying off, I ambled to the main room and eyed Sebastian's handwritten letter on the table with the half-eaten dishes. I frowned. Well, it was good while it lasted.

Best to retire for the night, I told myself as I meandered to the armoire. The masquerade ball was tomorrow, and I'd need my energy and all my wits for what would occur there. I drew the wardrobe open, and my breath caught.

A shell pink nightgown had been placed in front. Delicate French lace paired with sheer layers of tulle. My fingers glided over the crimped chiffon ruffles lining the décolletage. Such quality fabric no doubt, had come from the Crystal Palace Exhibition. I slipped into the garment. A river of liquid silk caressed my skin, more luxurious than the bath I had just departed. The thin fabric clung to my damp legs, and I was sure my face matched the color of the revealing ensemble. My lithe legs showed through the semi-translucence of the material. I stared below my hips, and a soft blush rose to my cheeks. I ran my hands over my sides. Small and petite as I was, I was no longer a child. I was now seventeen.

I sighed wistfully and blew out all the candles in the room until the only light left was a sliver of moonlight streaming through the canopy curtains and spilling onto the satin sheets. I melted into the four poster and entangled myself in the luxuriant linens with abandon. Softly, I inhaled and once again, found myself enveloped in an array of heady scents. The paraffined odor of candle smoke disseminated through the gossamer canopy, mixing with the sweet floral aroma and another scent I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Out of all the other scents in the room, this one was the most intoxicating of all. My gaze travelled to the end of the bed.

A coat-frock. The one that Sebastian had clad me in after that horrid drenching at the pond.

The black fabric lay at the foot of the bed, neatly folded, unassuming and plain, contrasting to the decadence in the room. Tentatively, my fingers reached for it. That familiar scent wafted from the fabric, and my breath stilled. Tugging the lavish satin sheets off me, I spurned them aside and wrapped the black coat-frock around myself. My lungs expanded to its full capacity, drinking that forbidden essence that made my head spin. None of the finery in this room could ever compare to this simple pleasure. I crushed the fabric against my nose, desperate for more of that scent. A tantalizing musk ensconced in silver polish and bergamot tea. I couldn’t bring myself to part from the fabric. Perhaps my irrational sensibilities were the merlot’s doing.

Before I could stop myself, I cocooned my entire body in the coat-frock so it held me in a warm embrace. I let Sebastian's scent swallow me completely. Absolutely. I closed my eyes and breathed in, my fingers digging into the fabric. This indeed had been a night of indulgence. Only one thing could make it better.

Long lashed carnelian eyes flickered before me. Wicked, tempting. A hand disappeared inside the black fabric, tracing my inner thigh. Upward and upward. My mind wandered to unbidden territories. Visions of being claimed by the beast swam in my head. Gently, roughly, everything in between. I rolled my hips against the pillow and moaned into the bed sheets. "S-Sebastian."

Over and over, I cried the unholy name, though I made certain my mind remained blank. Just because I called out his name, did not mean I would call for him. I could not afford to invoke our contracted bond nor allow him to penetrate my mind this time. No, I would not think. Just feel. Sensation, pleasure, mind-numbing nothingness. I shoved a finger inside my mouth, tasting remnants of rose water. I sucked hard. Pushed the digit in and out. Faster, faster. I timed the motion to the rhythmic undulation of my hips. A dampness pervaded my drawers. I fisted the bedsheets, gasping. So close... so...

A rap sounded against the window.

"Bloody hell—" I withdrew my hand from inside the coat-track. I bolted upright in my bed and threw aside the canopy curtains. Speak of the devil. As though my indecent thoughts had conjured him up, there he was. Behind the half opened window, perched on a tree branch like a cat.

"Don't startle me like that, Sebastian!"

"My apologies," he said. "I thought it would be the best way to meet you without attracting attention."

I made my face look unperturbed as possible, despite my racing pulse. "How long have you been there?"

Sebastian tilted his head, taking me in. Amusement tinged the butler's handsome face. "Apparently not long enough."

My cheeks burned. I was still wearing his coat-frock.

"The look suits you rather well-"

"Oh shut it. There was a draft through the window, and I was freezing so I...Never mind that. What are you doing here?"

"I believe I had specified in my letter. If I had additional time, that I would return."

"Well, yes. I knew that."

"You'll be pleased to hear that Miss Hopkins has just delivered the two hundred masks."

"I knew she wouldn't disappoint. Looks like everything is going to plan." I regained mastery of my voice and pointed to a crumpled scrap in the dust-bin. "I suppose you were right about the dark chocolate. Deciphered it at last."

"I am pleased to hear my assistance helped."

"Your ego knows no bounds, demon."

The elegant mouth twitched. "What did our cipherist want this time?"

"A questionable trade. He shall return Lizzie if I bring him the Stone of Lethe at the masquerade ball."

"And will you agree with the trade?"

"What do you think?"

"I think my mistress shall resort to Machiavellian tactics than make an honest trade."

"Naturally. He played his move, and I'll play my own. The Queen's gambit." My lips lifted. "I'll forgo the little trinket to him. Whether he'll still have it in his possession by the end of the night...well, that's another matter entirely. I'll leave that to you."

Sebastian smiled dimly. "Please do."

"How goes the rest of your research?" I inquired.

"Other than what we have already established about the philosopher's stone, the processing of creating it seems to go hand in hand with transmutating the soul."

I frowned. "That's what Jane said earlier. Something about how the philosopher's stone can perfect the soul."

"The alchemical stages related to the soul can be broken down to Nigredo, Albedo, and Rudedo."

"Black, white, and red," I said, recalling my Latin.

"Indeed. The phases of blackening, whitening, and reddening. In the Blackening stage, matter is broken down into its prima materia. It can be likened to stripping oneself until the only thing left is a divine essence not linked to the physical self." Sebastian's voice grew evocative. "Much like enduring traumatic events that break down, or rather, bare one's true soul."

I shifted uncomfortably. "And Albedo?"

"The Whitening describes the purification process. To unite the irreconcilable opposites, dark and light, day and night—Yin and Yang as the orientals say. To create a balance within the soul that was broken down during the blackening."

"Intriguing. And I presume the final step is a perfected soul?"

Sebastian nodded. "In the Reddening, one projects the new soul outwards to the body. The outcome is a new being purified from the inside out." His eyes glinted in the candle light. "In other words, a soul among souls among souls."

"You're practically salivating, demon."

"You wound me, young mistress."

"Is there anything more?" I asked.

"Not at this time."

"I see. Well, keep at your research."

"I shall." The butler gave a small bow, then tilted his head. "I trust the preparations have been satisfactory?"

I licked my lips. "Almost satisfactory."

"Almost," he repeated as though weighing the word. "A Phantomhive butler who performs tasks almost satisfactory isn't worth his salt. If there is something more my mistress desires, I shall of course oblige her."

I paused, then dared to look at one of the flickering candles. When I glanced back at Sebastian, his eyes glittered, daring me to speak. I chose my words carefully, deliberately. "Seeing as it is my birthday, I wouldn't mind a wax massage. I think it shall improve my productivity and focus."

He hummed. "It is not everyday that the mistress turns seventeen. I suppose it warrants some spoiling."

"Well then, you best get on with it."

"Certainly. If you will..." His eyes lingered on the black frock-coat. I raised my hands, allowing him to remove the article. Once he pulled the coat from my shoulders, his eyes raked me, roaming from head to toe.

"What is it?"

"The nightgown suits you remarkably well. Almost as much as my coat-frock."

"Almost, eh?" I smirked and leaned back, watching closely as Sebastian peeled back his glove with his mouth. He discarded it on the floor and picked up a candle from the nightstand. Anticipation cascaded over me as the candle dipped slowly. A drop of wax fell upon my skin. Hot, bare hands followed. I held back a strangled noise.

"Does that feel good, young mistress?"

"Yes," I said breathily.

"Why don't you lie down?" came his low, syrupy voice. "It shall provide me better access."

I lay on my belly, and warm hands kneaded my flesh, finding every knot. More wax dripped on my skin, and I moaned into my pillow. Sebastian spread the melted wax, making my skin slick, penetrating heat deeper into the tissue. Wax ran down my neck, centimeters from staining the luxuriant nightgown. When I turned my head, I found Sebastian's eyes following the trail. They were smoldering.

"It would be a pity if such a high quality fabric became stained, young mistress."

"My thoughts as well. Shall we quit this farce, Sebastian?" I gathered some bravado in my voice, masking my nerves. "Those services you spoke of earlier... perhaps I wish to partake in them now. Keeping sentimentality out of it, of course."

The corner of Sebastian's lips lifted. "I see no reason not to. As long as we understand our contractual roles."

Of course. No attachments. No feelings. This was good. Better to have this, a piece of him, than nothing at all.

"In that case..." I raised my hands, gesturing to Sebastian. He pulled the sleeves, then the bottom of the nightgown over my head. Left in a petticoat, I leaned languidly against the four poster, my arms behind me. I didn't bother concealing myself, fully aware of what was seen through the thin fabric. I crossed one leg over another, drawers peaking through.

"Well, aren't you going to continue?"

"Certainly, young mistress."

He dipped the candle again. Hot wax spilled on my skin and I hissed, the pain and pleasure consuming my mind. Before I could recover, more drops hit my skin. I cried out, gripping raven locks. Sebastian hummed and massaged the melted wax into muscles languidly, deliciously. First my neck, then shoulders, décolletage. When those devilish fingers grazed the side of my breast, I stifled a moan against his shoulder and reasoned this was no longer a massage.

"Do you dislike it?" he said in my ear.

"Not entirely..."

"Allow me to fix that." He tapped my lips twice, and I opened for him. His tongue filled my mouth. It moved like a flame, branding me as his, seeking every nook and cranny. I entwined it with mine, a tangle for dominance. I felt his fingers running through my hair, running along my spine, running through the knots of my soul. I gripped the tie falling out of place and pulled it hard. Sebastian drew back, severing the string of saliva connecting us.

"My, so hungry. I see the aphrodisiacs have taken effect."

"Aphrodisiacs?" I asked, breathless.

"Substances that increase desire and pleasure. Like oysters, fig, berries, chocolate, red wine..."

"You slippery demon."

"Too right." A wicked glitter settled in his eyes. "Tell me mistress, would you like to experience the real thing? I assure you it far more pleasurable than the solitary vice."

My face burned with shame. How much did he know about that? The beast must have wanted to humiliate me. No, don't give him the satisfaction.

Gathering my wits, I cleared my throat and spoke demurely. "I could take your word for it, but your word tends to be questionable. Why don't you prove it to me instead?"

A pause followed by a lilting tone. "A timely suggestion."

One hand inched upward from my torso while the other travelled downward from my décolletage, reaching closer and closer to...ah. His full palm settled on my sensitive flesh. Then the other, both hands cupping me. "Relax your muscles, mistress. You are much too stiff." Both hands massaged my breasts, applying a tantalizing pressure, and I liquified in his arms. If his indirect touch made me react this strongly... I shivered. His thumb rubbed two erect nubs over the scanty fabric. Circling and circling and circling. I couldn't bear it. Too much.... I held a hand over my mouth, stifling a strangled sound.

A strong hand clasped my wrist and pried it away. "No, let me hear your lovely voice, mistress."

I gasped. His name escaped my lips, calling for him, crying out for him. For myself. Damn it all.

His fingers intertwined with my own. "I am here, mistress," he whispered, lips trailing my jaw.

How I longed to lose myself within the terrible beast.

"M-more Sebastian."

"You'll have to be more specific."

Did the bloody creature expect me to say it?

"I want... all of it." My contracted eye burned at him.

"As you wish." Deft fingers ran under my nightgown and skimmed my legs. Tracing, caressing, then squeezing. He pressed my inner thigh, hard enough that my skin turned white under his touch. I shuddered. Finally, his hand disappeared through the drawer's slit. He cupped me—there. I gasped at the direct contact. First stroking, then kneading, his hand hot and large. Somewhere in the recesses of my psyche, my mind screamed at me to stop this. To stop him before getting myself deeper, but it was too hard to heed the warning over my ragged breath, the building pleasure, and the hot breath ghosting my ear.

"Ah...it's..oh god."

"He has nothing to do with it."

He continued massaging me with the palm of his hand, wrist moving steadily. Then he paused. With two fingers, he circled the sensitive nub, alternating pressure. Slowly, deeply. Unbearably slowly. I gripped his neck. Whatever small amount of rationality fled me. I could no longer form words. No longer think. My mind reeled.

"Sebastian...more...I need—"

He stilled his hand, pulling me back from the edge of sensation. I leaned my head back against his sturdy form, and the soft, cruel lips trailed along my neck. The hand moved again, and the wave began rising again. Like this, he brought me to the edge and back, the edge and back. My breath hitched. "I-I'm going to—" He withdrew his hand cruelly, and the powerful wave of sensations tapered to a trickle.

I groaned, a low, tortured sound that ripped though me. "Why won't you let me..."

Sebastian's breath stirred the hair on the nape of my neck. “Now, now, you wouldn't want to hurtle towards climax and miss the exhilaration of sensual meanderings along the way." He re-positioned himself in front of the room's mirror and gestured to his lap. "Come here, mistress."

Lifting a brow, I seated myself upon him. His arms surrounded me, one holding my waist while the other hooked under my leg. "What are—"

"You shall soon see." His lips pressed to my ear. "Open your legs."

I didn't resist - I didn't want to. Sebastian chuckled. "My, already like this." He traced his fingers along the stained fabric of the drawer. Both hands gripping my thighs, he spread me wider. One hand crept into the drawer's slit and parted the fabric. "Look in the mirror, young mistress."

I dared to open my eyes. The mirror reflected the most sordid imagery. Something that would make even the most questionable lithograph vendors blush. A flush strained my face, illuminated by the rosy glow of candle lights. My svelte legs were splayed wide apart. All under the gaze of those terrible eyes. Two fingers crept closer and played with soft curls before parting the folds, exposing a glistening nub.

This was all so wrong; yet nothing had ever felt righter.

Sebastian circled the sensitive flesh in slow motions, his gaze fused with mine on the mirror.

"Faster," I panted.

He circled the spot again, and chills skittered down my spine. Pleasure, need consumed me.

"Call my name, mistress." The vibrations of his deep, silky voice sent a thrill to my toes.

"More, S-Sebastian...Sebastian, Sebastian—ah." Desire and desperation drenched my obscene cries. Our gazes locked in the mirror, intense carnelian staring into blue. Perhaps it was my mind playing tricks on me, but for a moment something flickered within his eyes. Not affection, not indifference, not an emotion I could name... but something.

"Good, just like that," said Sebastian. "Keep moving your hips against me."

Hearing his slight breathy praise, I writhed in his lap. Something hard pressed against me. I stilled, my cheeks burning.

"You...is that...are you—"

"Did you truly not expect any reaction out of this human body I masquerade in?" He whispered into my ear, "Especially when you display that hot little quim of yours so willingly." He slipped a finger inside me, and I drew in a sharp breath.

Again and again, he thrust the digit in and out while his thumb circled the swollen nub. The air intensified with soft, wet noises. I clenched around his finger. It was never like this, nowhere close when it only me. He increased his pace, driving me to the brink of madness. Ecstasy. The muscles deep inside me began to contract. "I'm-I'm so close," I gasped.

A low, seductive growl escaped him. "Come for me."

"Sebastian...Sebastia—" A delicious throbbing washed over me. Nerve endings ablaze, my entire body shuddered. I was soaring, higher and higher. Far away, somewhere immaterial—ascension to an unearthly plane. For the second time that night, my mind went blank, consumed by a blissful nothingness. When I descended back to reality, I collapsed in Sebastian's arms.

"Shall we move this to the bed?" he whispered.

"The bed?" My head swam, still disoriented from the flood of sensation.

"You did not truly think you would experience that only once tonight. Shall we?"

I knew what he was asking. He knew what I wanted. My gaze lingered on his clothed arousal. Desire unfurled in my core, greedy for the taste of him.

#black butler fanfiction

[excusemewhileidenigrate]

#creatures #nature #lizard #turtle #spider #dragonfly #i think there's a brim under the turtle as well lol #fishies #that was a tiny ass spider too

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 27- Hermits

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Its not often the hermits get a chance to all be together. And while they know battles lie ahead of them, they take this moment to enjoy being a family again. 

______________________________________

Etho appears beside TFC, causing the mineral mage to sputter out the coffee he was sipping. “I caught sight of xB a few islands down!” 

The hermits murmur with excitement and follow Etho to the shoreline. Sure enough, xB is hauling Hypno and Beef onto the warm sand. Hypno thumps his hand against his head, an attempt to escape his clogged ears which only fails for him. “Can’t we take a sky turtle next time?” 

“But it’s more fun to swim!” xB chuckles, and with a flick of his finned ears and his grey tail he runs to hug the hermits. “It’s so good to be back, guys! I can’t remember the last time all of us were on the island together.”

“You guys said something about taking back Lairyon?” Beef raises an eyebrow, looking over at Doc. “This isn’t your rebellious phase coming back, is it?”

“We’ll explain everything on the way. TFC has a lot to tell.” Etho wraps his arms around Hypno and xB, before disappearing into their shared shadow. 

The kipling laughs, shaking his head and looking around the island. “Some things never change. I see you haven’t fixed the hole in False’s forge either.” 

The hermits laugh, the entire group filled with life as they return to the guild hall. Joe and Cleo regale the missing hermits with the story of their victory at the Chimaera’s Championship. Their battles and challenges in the arena, facing off against the best guilds and winning the cup. They also tell Hypno, xB, and Beef about the heist, the discovery. 

“Why am I not surprised?” Hypno hums, tapping his fingers against the wood of the table that he sits down at. TFC pats the boys on the head, grabbing at Beef’s face and tapping his finger on a scar he sees. Beef shrinks away, concerned for a second, but the guildmaster only chuckles in response.

“I can’t wait to hear that story. It’s good to have you guys back.” TFC pats him on the back. “Treat you to a pint of beer next time we go to town.” 

“Let’s hear about this big job you’ve got planned for us first.” xB raises an eyebrow. In response, TFC rolls out his map.

The paper has changed since they first decided to go after Dolios and his creepy crystals. If there’s one thing an outlaw guild knows how to do, it’s to find new jobs through the grapevine. “Dolios has these tales silenced. I’ve heard of at least six other guilds being attacked or wiped out by unknown magic. Unfortunately, we’re too late to help them.” Team ZIT glance at one another, but focus on the here and now. “But there are places we can make a difference, as well as get information and better ourselves as a group.”

TFC motions to the Evernight forest. “An old friend of mine said there has been stories of familiars and companion animals going missing. No trace of where they went, except for a few patches of charred grass.”

“Charred, or drained?” Mumbo muses. To anyone, that sounds like the signs of a dragon ravaging Foresta, but after Mumbo’s duel with a draconic mage he knows dragons aren’t that dastardly. Nothing is as dastardly as Dolios. 

TFC grins, the newest member and the guildmaster sharing a knowing glint. “There’s also Shellor- which, I believe one of our hermits here knows quite intimately.” Etho gives a two fingered salute, rocking on the back legs of his chair until they fall out from under him, dumping him on the floor. Doc, Beef, and BDubs laugh at him. “There’s a few spies who’ve seen things Dolios has done, but the hard part will be earning their trust.” 

“Hmm, yeah. I don’t think I really left Shellor on a good note.” Etho grimaces. 

“That’ll be you, Keralis, and Grian’s problem. Meanwhile, we also need some help in the magical beings department. And if there’s one group that has mysterious, arcane magic on lock, it’s-”

“The fae!” Stress slams down her hands, a bright smile on her face. Iskall jolts upright and nearly hits the table again on the way down. “But where will we go? The fjords? The mountains? Heartbreak Trench?” 

“The flowerfruit fields. While you’re there, you and BDubs can gather ingredients that we’ve been running low on.” TFC glances at the map, running a finger over the lime green patch on the map. “We do have two confirmed crystal sightings, as well as Gildara. Edenswell seems to be falling ill to dark magic, and there’s reasonable belief that Dolios isn’t getting these massive rocks from nowhere- he’s using gems from the mines.” 

Heads peek over one another in an attempt to see the map. The charcoal diamonds and swirls. Gildara still sits untouched, and every hermit looks at one another. Do any of them want to return to the beginning of this all? Even to put an end to the dark magic plaguing the land, the memories of what they saw, what they experienced, still remain. 

Except for those that weren’t there. “I don’t think I’d mind checking out this hokey little town you guys keep talking about.” Beef grins, glancing over at Hypno and Wels. “We’ll have that place brimming with flaxen fields and green gardens all over again.” 

TFC grins, dipping his head in thanks to the returning hermits. He leans back, looking at the filled guild hall. “It’s been so long since we’ve all been together. If only it were on good terms.” 

“It feels good to return home.” xB ruffles his hair with a scaled hand, looking around for a second, then returning to speaking. “Even if it’s just for a short time, we should enjoy everyone being together again.” 

“What I’m hearing is we need to have our signature hermit celebrations.” Tango’s face splits into a devious smile. All around him, other hermits get a similar smirk on their face. Before TFC can agree to the idea, the hermits are gone. Cleo rushes to her wrecked pirate ship, hefting kegs of ale with the aid of Stress. Wels commandeers False’s forge to begin baking his favorite sweets, while Mumbo, Grian, and Iskall work together to fix the pennants, lanterns, and flags that decorate the guild hall in a myriad of colors. 

Tango snaps his fingers, and a small flame dances at his fingertips, jumping from his nails to the wicks of the lanterns. He ducks out of the way just in time to avoid being smacked in the face by a massive fish, tossed from the sea by xB and grabbed by Grian midair. The whirlpool mage disappears back underwater, back to hunting in the realm he was born in. 

The sun begins to inch towards the western horizon, turning the sky ablaze in a mosaic of pinks, oranges, yellows, and reds. A blue flag flutters against the ancient oak tree, catching on a branch. BDubs reaches out from his seat near the food platters, hardly even glancing away from the fresh baked goods, and with a flick of his wrist the branch bends away and the flag flies free again. 

False appears beside Wels, grabbing a brownie from the hot pan and sticking her tongue out at him as she passes. When Wels objects she’s quick to retort. “You used my forge. It’s rental payment, paladin.” 

Beef sets out plates, which are promptly ignored once Impulse and Zedaph have finished cooking the tuna xB caught. Music swells from a music box the creation of Ren, with the help of Mumbo, the upbeat songs written and composed with Joe and requests from the other hermits for their favorite tunes. 

The music thrums against the low roar of talking, the sound only broken by the common lilt of laughter. Hermits tell their stories, whether they be heard for the thousandth time or a new tale to tell. Beef causes Hypno to flush as he recounts the prank he pulled on the dream mage. Hypno turns bright red, quiet voice cracking over the tale. “I smelled like centaur shit for a week! It was awful, I’ll tell you that.” 

A raucous laugh erupts from that table, overshadowing the story of Mumbo’s duel to xB. “I swear on my life, I thought she was gonna swallow me whole. Or burn me like coal.” Mumbo shakes his head. “I don’t think I ever want to go up against a draconic mage ever again in my life.” 

“I’m surprised a kipling, a draconic mage, and a desert wizard were one team. That’s a strange group. I don’t think I’ve even met each of the others.” xB takes a bite of his fish, marinated in fresh fruits that Cub plucked from nearby islands. “But I’m sure that kipling gave you guys a run for your money. That magic she had… it’s rare beyond imagination. In kipling legend, it means a legendary hero is about to arise.” 

“He definitely kicked Ren’s ass. I don’t think I ever saw so much water moved at once.” Mumbo shakes his head, and stuffs a red jelly tart into his mouth. 

Keralis stands, tossing his woven hat from the brown curls of his hair, and inviting himself onto the open floor. “I love this song! Come on, my wonderful friends, let’s dance!” 

The setting sun casts a golden glow, bouncing off verdant leaves, twisting along the waves of the Ashioll sea. Laughter and music dance in the gilded light, playing in the curls of Zedaph’s hair as he joins Keralis. The two bumble around, drunk from Cleo’s ale but enjoying themselves immensely. 

Only one hermit wasn’t taking part in the festivities. Atop the canopy that protects the guild hall below, Xisuma watches as the stars appear in the sky. For a few moments in the day, the void and the sun share the space above. And he always thinks of the one person he knows he should forget by now. But he would’ve loved this, even if he’s constantly worrying about being caught doing something wrong. 

“Hey X, you gonna mope up there all day or join us?” Jevin grins below, one hand placed on his hip and the other waving Xisuma down. “Just because you’re a void mage doesn’t mean you have to a-void everything!” 

Xisuma rolls his eyes, but smiles beneath his mask. “After that terrible pun, how can I say no?”

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft fanfic #wizard au #wizard hermits #wizard etho #wizard tfc #wizard grian #wizard false #wizard wels #wizard hypno #wizard beef #wizard xb #ethoslab #tinfoilchef #grian #grianmc #falsesymmetry #welsknight #hypnotizd #vintagebeef #xbcrafted #writing

[thefifthturtleismyicon]

Glowing

Tmnt x reader

Pt 1

TMNT reader insert- first of a longer story- but i think I'll write it as a master post and not a series

Basically me writing my ideal version of TMNT, just because I have no paitience, but works with any version of the turtles... except maybe 2k18....

Anyway, if you guys like it, i would love to actaully make it seem more reader focused, this first part is still pretty void of any turtle x reader lol

FEEDBACK MAKES IT MORE FUN FOR BOTH OF US

Anyway....

The Ninja turtles run into a human like mutant who is after the same kind of ooze as them, but when they keep crossing paths, they realize they have a lot more in common than that.

There was one thing that made mutants hard to identify- other than the fact they were so good at hiding. Sometimes, there were ones lucky enough to seem human at a glance.

You were one of those mutants- and right now, you had a problem. That problem was plural; other mutants- who looked much less human than you.

Turtleish actually.

You landed hard against the roof, shoes scraping against the old cement as you tucked into a roll. The glowing can of ooze was warm against your side, pinned between your torso and your arm. It made it much harder for you to run, which was probably the only reason you hadn’t outmaneuvered your pursers yet.

As you sprinted across the moonlit rooftop, you could hear the silent movements in the shadows, the deft patter of feet following after. If you had been anyone else, that probably wouldn’t have been possible. The movements of your pursuers were as quiet as you had ever encountered, and it didn’t help that you were in the middle of New York City. They seemed to know how to stay hidden- and they were gaining on you.

You chanced a brief look behind you as leaped over an air vent, head snapping back forward for your eyes to land directly on one of the mystery mutants.

Yeah- it was a turtle.

Your eyes widened at the tall, muscled figure a few yards away from you, brain quickly digesting the red mask, sai’s, and aggressive stance. He was blocking your path.

You rolled your eyes and pulled out one of your guns from your chest holster, pointing it at the dark green turtle, still running. The red-masked mutant’s eyes widened and he immediately dodged out of your way, bracing himself for gunfire. You simply kept running, leaping off the edge of the building that the turtle had been guarding. Sounds of dismay and annoyance rang out from your other pursues followed by a loud exclamation you couldn’t exactly make out.

You made it to the other side of the next roof, glaring down at the large gap between the next building and yours. The way you had taken to get here had been much easier, but now the canister of ooze you had under your arm made it harder for you to just walk through the street with the civilians. You bounced on the balls of your feet impatiently, trying to run through and pick an option as fast as you could. The only ways of getting away with the chemicals seemed to be getting down the street and hoping no one thought you were suspicious enough to call the cops or fight.

You decided to take the easier option.

You placed one foot up on the ridge of the building, but then suddenly a whistle cut through the air and you rolled backward, just barely avoiding the sturdy bostaff that slammed down where you had been standing. Pressing the ooze more closely to yourself, you watched as the taller turtle moved the staff to face you, a small smile on his face. He was clad in heavier equipment than the last- and seemed to have goggles strapped to the front of his head.

“Hi.” The purple-masked turtle offered, pointing the bo staff in your direction, staying low in a crouch.

You didn’t respond to his greeting verbally. You lunged forward and grabbed the staff, yanking hard and pulling it toward you. The turtle let out a yelp of surprise as he stumbled, and was probably just as shocked when you kicked him across the face.

Having moved him out of the way, you again went for the building’s edge, when a chain wrapped around the edge of the ooze canister, tugging you backward. You held on tightly, rolling backward into the pull and through the next pursuers legs, pulling hard. The orange-clad turtle was flipped onto his back, arm dangling on the other end of the nunchucks. He was staring up at you with big eyes, much less angry than you would’ve been. All that came out of his mouth was an excited giggle of surprise, one that you could barely hear as you ran once again for the building edge.

You jumped over the ridge and slammed down onto the fire escape, beginning to flip down through the metal bars as the three turtles began yelling at each other. You smirked slightly, knowing they couldn’t be crazy enough to follow into the view of civilians, and once you hit the open streets, you would just hitch a subway ride and be home free.

Suddenly, another turtle swung in from outside of the fire escape, kicking you against the wall. You grunted as you hit the bricks, ducking quickly as the blue-masked turtle punched where you had just been standing, surging forward and jabbing your shoulder into his plated stomach. He likewise slammed back against the staircase, looking at you in a new light. After that brief second of rest and sizing up, you lunged for the next set of stairs, which the turtle blocked with his arm, stopping you each time from passing under or over him. You weren’t going to be able to beat him with one arm. You groaned in frustration and tossed the metal canister into the air, the turtles focus immediately on the ooze, which gave you the opportunity to grab his still slightly outstretched arm and judo flip him, slamming the turtle down against the ascending staircase. The canister landed between your feet and you let out a breath, pushing the (h/c) strands of hair out your face as you picked up the container.

You scrambled down the rest of the fire escape, landing loudly on the dirty cement below. The alley tucked just a few feet away from the bustling street and you rushed toward it, hopes rising as you neared the human packed area.

Those hopes were dramatically crushed in the same way you were, slammed down into the pavement by large feet. Your skull brushed against the pavement as your arms were pinned under you, the cannister popping out of your grasp.

“No-” You grunted hazily, your vision swimming as you attempted to get up.

“Mikey!”

“What?”

“You- you can’t just jump on people like that!”

“It stopped her didn’t it?” The turtle exclaimed, a sense of indignation in his almost surfer like accent. The other voice scoffed, and you could feel three other pairs of feet hitting the pavement.

“You could have crushed her.”

“I didn’t.“ The turtle- Mikey- replied, leaning down and turning your head to the side, “I didn’t crush you did I?”

You groaned in response, one hand reaching out to your head, pulling away and looking at the dark blood that was now smearing your hand. Mikey seemed to take the response well, nodding up at the others.

“See? She’s fine!”

Mumbles of disagreement rose up from the turtles as they stared down at you, the tall purple one reaching down and picking up the ooze. Your eyes widened, cloudy brain clearing as you realized you had lost the canister. You surged upwards, Mikey yelling in surprise as you threw him off of you. But before you could reach the turtle, the red and blue turtles both had their weapons pointed at you, keeping you from the other.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The red-masked turtle growled, his voice unmistakably accented. Your eyes leveled with the two weapons, sizing up your four opponents. You might have been able to take them all on at once before your head had cracked against the pavement- but now? There wasn’t much of a chance… but you needed that ooze. It didn’t matter how little of a chance you had.

Your arms snapped up to the holsters at your ribs, fingers wrapping around the handles of your guns, which was met by a katana pressing close to your neck. You froze, glaring at the blue-eyed turtle. He stared back, knowing you had nothing else to do.

“Let go of the guns.”

“I need that canister.” You snapped back, eyes hard as you glanced between him and the ooze.

“So do we.” He replied simply, taking in your black military grade outfit.

You shifted on your feet, fighting the urge to rush forward, even with the katana in your way. They didn’t understand and you didn’t have time to deal with them. You needed those chemicals.

“Raph, take her guns.”

“No! Hey- don’t-” You let out a loud groan as the guns were wrestled from your sides, Raph smirking down at you as he tossed the weapons around in his three-fingered hands.

“Okay… Mikey do you still have those bungee cords?”

“Aw- not my bungees Leo, you know I was going to try to use those!”

“Would you rather she follow us?”

“No…” Mikey replied, grabbing your shoulder as Leo kept the sword close to your head.

Panic was beginning to build in your chest, realizing that they were going to leave you there, and you weren’t going to be able to…

Your gaze snapped up to Mikey, and you raised your hand, grabbing his arm. A loud yelp rang out from the shortest turtle and he stumbled away from you, his arm swinging uselessly at his side.

“Mikey!”

Your hand glowed softly, the mutagen in your veins pulsing. You stumbled backward, ready to run, but was stopped by the crushing grip of the red turtle.

“Let me go!”

“Not after what ya just did ta my little brother-”

“Oh, he’s fine! Just let me go!”

“Raph!” Leo hissed, rushing forward. “They’re going to hear her!”

“Well, what am I supposed ta-”

“Help! Help, I’m being k-” The tallest turtle lunged forward past Leo, his hand slapping over your mouth, muffling your screams. You wiggled in Raph’s grip, body brimming with frustration as they yelled over your sounds of the struggle.

“Donnie don’t touch her! You saw what happened to Mikey-”

“I’m touching her face! Raph is holding her off the ground- what difference does it make?”

“I don’t know! I just-”

“AH! She’s licking my hand!”

“Donnie. Donnie- don’t you dare let go. It’s just-”

“It’s wet!”

“I know! Just wait till I-”

“My hand!” Donnie exclaimed, “I can’t feel my hand!” Just as he was saying so, Donnie’s hand grew limp, just as Mikey’s arm had. You laughed in triumph, shaking your head free of his now lifeless hand.

“Woah- her tongue is glowing!”

“It’s kinda gross,” Raph said.     

“You mean cool.” Mikey quipped back as you began to yell again, which was muffled by Leo placing a ripped bandage over your mouth. You screeched as Donnie duct taped the bandage to your face, struggling to do so with one working hand.

Eventually, the turtles had you duct taped and tied down to the fire escape ladder, arms behind your back as you struggled to get loose of the bungee cords.

“You don’t think she's going to break those is she?” Leo asked warily, looking at his youngest brother.

“No way! I was going to use those to bungee off the empire state building. If they could hold me, she won’t be able to break them.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the comment, wrists working feverishly to break through the cords.

“So we’re just going to leave her?” Donnie asked, still nursing his hand.

“We have to, she’s too good to not just follow us,” Leo replied,  staring down as you shook your head.

They couldn’t leave you-you needed the ooze! You screeched as they began to climb back up the fire escape, about to disappear into the night. Mikey suddenly stopped, looking down at you for a moment, his brows quirking up in sympathy. And then as fast it had come, he smiled down at you and waved. You stomped your foot as the last turtle hopped up onto the roof and out of sight. You strained against the bungee cord, waiting to see if any of the turtles would change their minds. It would’ve just been easier if one of them stopped to ask you what was wrong.

Instead, you had to follow them now. You sighed, standing up straight and pulling your wrists apart, the bungee cord stretching to a point where you slipped one wrist out, and then the other.

They really should’ve checked how stretchy the bungee cord was. Because now, you had to go and find their hideout. You needed that ooze. And you were going to get it no matter what.

#87 tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt raph imagine #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leo imagine #tmnt mikey imagine #tmnt donnie imagine #tmnt x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles imagine #teenage mutant ninja turtles #x reader #fanfic #reader imagine

[mandawrites]

|| fandom: south park || || pairing: creek || || notes: hi i literally just wanted to write the boys being cute in the halloween store from the last ep. this is my bare minimum contribution to the witch tweek fad lol. || 

“Maybe we should just be Ninja Turtles…” Tweek mumbles, staring at the ground and wringing the handle of the broomstick between his fingers.

Craig’s hand darts out and covers one of Tweek’s, grabbing ahold of the broom beneath it and halting his fidgeting. The suddenness of it forces Tweek to blink up at him in surprise.

“No. That’s what Clyde wants us to be. You should be whatever you want.”

Craig glances sideways at the wall of hats, eyes scanning each one carefully until he settles on one beside him. He plucks it from its hook and uses both hands to plop it on over Tweek’s mess of hair, tugging it down firmly.

“There. Perfect fit.”

The wide brim of the hat nearly blinds Tweek. With the tips of his fingers that he gently prods it just the slightest bit higher out of his face. He seeks out the mirror he’d been staring at before, gazing back at himself. The hat was huge, black and with a tiny pumpkin adorning the band, so tall at the tip that it curled back down against the back of his head, at the end of which dangled a small yellow crescent moon charm. Under the brim, his hair fanned out like the mane of a lion.

Craig sidles closer behind him in the glass, staring at their reflections with his arms crossed.

“How is it.”

Tweek touches the edge of the brim lightly. He’d been a bit nervous about possibly looking stupid wearing this, but...well, he definitely didn’t hate what he was seeing.

“It’s nice.”

“Great, let’s get it.”

“Well…” At this, Tweek whirls around until he’s facing Craig. “What do you think?”

“Oh,” Craig scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t ask me that. We don’t have that kind of time.”

Tweek frowns. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means...”

Craig reaches out a hand to flick the hat brim, revealing even more of Tweek’s face beneath it.

“...I could write Encyclopedic-length novels about how cute you look.”

Tweek, as he does every time Craig utters something this sweet in so straightforward a manner, feels like he wants to die. Like, in a good way, but also in the sort of way where he’s still not used to someone loving him so casually like that. Craig seems entirely aware of it, the look he’s giving him growing more affectionate if not a bit smug the longer it drags on. Tweek tightens his hands around the broom, resisting the urge to stomp his foot and protest angrily.

Instead, left with nothing else to say, he hastily changes the subject off himself.

“W-where’s your costume, then?”

“Right here.”

Craig uncrosses his arm to reach behind his back, pulling out the fuzzy black headband he’d apparently tucked in his pocket. As he begins twirling it casually around his index finger, Tweek can clearly see a pair of triangular ears sitting atop the band.

Then he slips it over his hat.

“Meow meow, bitch.”

Tweek stares at him, notably expressionless in a way that was a clear testament to the amount of time he spent around Craig.

“That’s it, huh.”

“You’re lucky I managed this much.”

To be fair, he had a point. Tweek wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if Craig had instead settled on a piece of paper that said “cat” and affixed it to his chest.

“I didn’t think you liked cats enough to want to be one.”

“Well, it was this or pizza.” Craig stops in the middle of his thought as he gets distracted by the thing he just said, the faintest shade of excitement suddenly lighting up his eyes. “They have a whole aisle with nothing but food costumes. Babe.” He put both his hands on Tweek’s shoulders. “I could’ve been a fucking slice of pizza.”

That’s all he needed to say. Literally everyone was aware of how much Craig liked pizza more than pretty much anything.

“Okay,” Tweek laughs. “Then you should have.”

“Nah. It wouldn’t have matched yours.”

“I could change mine. I could be, like, a pizza chef.” Tweek pantomimes tugging on a curled mustache that he didn’t have. “Wear one of those big poofy hats.”

“Next year,” Craig promises, nodding. “I’m down to be a cat, though. Whatever you want. As long as people know I’m with you.”

Tweek smiles softly.  “You really wanna do a couples costume, huh.”

“Yeah, of course. You’re, like...my boo, or whatever.”

The unexpectedness of him saying that causes Tweek to burst out in a laugh. Even Craig cracks a grin.

“That would’ve been funnier if you were going as a ghost. Can we redo this? Please change your costume.”

“Stupid,” Tweek mumbles through his snickering, gently pushing Craig’s arm. “And you say I’m cute.”

“Because you are.”

“Yeah, uh, not as cute as you.”

“Hey, do you wanna fucking fight?” Craig says with a scowl, pushing up his sleeve like he was ready to actually throw down. He makes it as far as putting a fist in Tweek’s face, which Tweek blinks at before knocking aside.

“Please don’t embarrass me in public. You and I both know I would destroy you. And have, for that matter.”

Craig stares at him a moment, struggling to maintain his tough guy demeanor, lasting all of three seconds before it melts away with a sigh. He drops his hands at his sides in defeat.

“I can’t even pretend to do this. You’re that fucking lovable.”

And before Tweek can say anything more Craig yanks down the brim of the hat until Tweek’s eyes are completely hidden beneath it. There’s yelps of surprise and protest before Craig swoops in and kisses him quickly on the mouth. Which just makes Tweek yell more.

“Oh, hey, we found you guys.”

“Told you, man, we just had to wait five seconds before Tweek started screaming somewhere in the store.”

Tweek manages to readjust the hat off his face just in time to witness Token and Clyde round the corner.

“Baby, look,” Craig says, elbowing Tweek. “Clyde’s an avocado.”

“An arr-vocado, dude,” Clyde says exasperatedly, pointing at his eyepatch and wiggling the wooden sword he had in his hand. “Like a pirate avocado. Come on, we went over this.”

“Sorry, yeah.” Craig turns to Tweek and gestures at Clyde again. “Whatever dumb thing he just said.”  

“What are you supposed to be, Token?” Tweek asks, tilting his head at him. Token was currently sporting a pink Mario Kart car around his waist, a Ninja Turtle shell on his back, a Spider-Man mask over his face, and a Naruto headband on his forehead.

“I’m every obsession I’ve ever had since I was five years old.”

Tweek nods approvingly. “Original, I guess.”

“Hey, are you guys matching?” Clyde suddenly exclaims, getting a good look at the other two. “That’s fucking gross. You’re too cute.”

“But he’s cuter, right?” Craig says. “Have you seen the goddamn pumpkin on his hat.”

Tweek looks more than eager to resume this argument, his mouth opening in swift retaliation. He is instead interrupted by what sounds like a harmonizing chorus of synthesizers from somewhere outside the store.

The boys all stop and glance around listening before a familiar obnoxious high-pitched voice shrieks a greeting above the music. They all then stare at each other in a shared moment of regret for having left their homes that day.

“Is this...who I think it is,” Token asks, sounding about as tired as they all felt.

They all knew exactly whose voice that was.

“Yes, obviously,” Craig says, rolling his eyes. “It was dumb of us to think we were going to make it through this whole day without Kyle and that fucker ruining it.”

“Should we...” Clyde says with a shrug. “I dunno, go check it out?”

Craig really doesn’t want to, none of them want to, he’d rather just stay in here and kiss his witch boyfriend a thousand times until whatever was going on outside blew over.

He sighs.

“Let’s just pay and get this over with.”

#this is really not that big of a deal i LITERALLY just wanted to write them flirting #creek #/ #// #/// #//// #south park #craig #tweek

[shadowdianne]

4th @emettkaysworld

Hello twin… what can I say? I don’t remember how we ended up following each other but kudos to whatever post that was responsible for that. With you I have learnt a lot, I’ve laughed a lot and we both have discovered how gay we are for certain buzzfeed producer. You are wise, my friend, and you definetely have an old soul. The kind of one that is always written under the premise of deep, star-filled eyes. Your messages never fail to make me jump to the app, ready to start whatever conversation we had both left unattended (we can be the worst, I know I’m the worst on that regard lol) Thank you, for being there, for being here, for taking my words at face value always, no matter what. I only feel pride when I see you keeping on moving forward, always will be. Happy 2019.

-         The lovely Emett went for the trope of let’s going to make Dianne here think around a quote. SwanQueen, of course, because these two own our souls.

"Thanks for listening when I wasn't even talking.”

Regina glanced up from the glass of white wine she had asked for herself, her eyes zeroing on Emma’s profile as the blonde picked up the half-full pint she had practically inhaled ever since Aesop had placed both drinks on the counter in front of them. The blonde’s eyes were fixed on the dark liquid but the shoulder facing Regina was slightly lowered, elbow on the table and long fingers drumming against the wood.

Away from them, the sounds of chatter, laughter and glasses clinking against the tables that were already full surrounded them both. A noise Regina had learnt to consider her own, her blood, one that still jogged her muscle memory on the days she felt overtly tired, the crown too heavy on top of her head. Now, however, the brunette felt the sound as if coming from outside a bubble, one in where both she and Emma were immersed into; untouchable and afar from the people that had welcomed her with open sincere smiles as the merging of the realms settled, the magic toll that had taken on her still present on the way she felt her powers brim, just a second away from breaking through her skin.

Silence stretching, the brunette waited for Emma to elaborate further; not entirely sure if that was what the woman even wanted. Ever since their return Regina had felt a strange pull around the blonde; almost as if even if her body remembered how it was to be around the other woman her brain was painfully aware of the time they had spent separated. Something made by a decision they both had taken in the middle of a forest with a gaping vortex waiting behind Emma, a life very different from the one Regina had wanted for her in that moment, glaring at them both.

And so, as she stared at Emma, the brunette pressed the tips of her fingers against the stem of the glass, fine cracks of purple rising from where her fingers touched the surface of the glass up to the bowl in where they simply dissipated in a barely-there mauve mist.

Green eyes blinking at her in a quick movement, Emma’s cheeks reddened just lightly as she brought the rim of her own glass to her lips, throat bobbing up and down beneath the black turtle neck she wore. One that made Regina think on the last time they had truly shared a drink; over that same spot on the pub, with an impending hell to crash on them all. A memory that also seemed to haunt Emma’s face as the blonde closed her eyes and sighed deeply, the sound of the glass against the counter deafening as Regina remained silent, waiting.

At some other time, she could have even asked Emma what she was referring to, why she was approaching a subject neither of them were good at. Today, however, she didn’t feel brave enough to do it, to confront the young woman. Not when she already knew.

Because she remembered the many many times both she and Emma had glanced at each other, destroying whatever lies they had been trying to sell and simply see through the curtains, dispelling any false sense of bravado they had tried to project time and time again. The question, she thought to herself as she rose the glass, taking a quick sip from it before glancing down, staring at the way Aesop’s gentle lighting fell upon its surface, wasn’t what but when. When that had last happened since she had left. Driven by something that could only be described as loss. The loss of Storybrooke as her home, as the place she thought would be her final destination in a very long journey as the reason for precisely that was the woman that now kept staring at her, remorse glimmering on her green eyes.

And Regina didn’t blame her, she couldn’t, wouldn’t; as much as Emma had been at the epicenter of the reason why she had decided to leave it had ultimately fell on Regina’s shoulders the realization that everything hurt too much.

Which ultimately made her growl inwardly before putting her own glass down, a shower of sparkles following her movements before she turned fully towards the younger woman.

“Emma…” She spoke, her voice far too soft and Emma halted, apparently already decided that she wasn’t going to get an answer either from her former words. Lazy smile spreading, she looked at Regina through half-lidded eyelids and Regina felt her breath getting trapped on her throat, fingers clenching the edge of the counter, muscles aching.  Looking away, the Queen licked her lips, her voice rising again even before she had enough time to curate, to edit, her words. “Always.”

And she saw the sudden change, the way despondent, tired posture morphed into a cockiness gait. One she had missed, one she had thought to having been discarded by a woman that had been forced into a cage made by expectations and decisions that hadn’t been hers on the first place. And yet, after many many years a glimpse of that was back in an instant, like a new skin spreading through Emma’s posture, a conversation on her eyes Regina wasn’t sure if it was directed at her or was something the blonde was having entirely on her own. Until, she of course, stopped, the faint scent of Emma’s power clinging around her, into her.

Humming, the blonde moved closer to her, quietly placing her hand on top of Regina’s, softly easing up the grip on the counter with a well-placed caress, one that made Regina’s body freeze as she bore her eyes onto Emma’s, fire and hunger glimmering there, darkening green and blue, transforming it into a stormy, cloudy grey.

“I’ve realized that it was time to listen too.”

And, with a flourish that only truly surprised Regina herself, Emma launched forward, magic scrapping Regina’s chest and neck as the blonde’s grasped her clothes, a faint whistling didn’t register until Regina closed her eyes, head reeling at the touch of two lips against hers, the even faintest sound of a ring falling to the floor what made her reciprocate, drunk on it.

PS: Oh, I totally forgot to say this before but all the stories for this idea of writing them all for the bunch of lovely people I want to gift are going to be tagged  “OnTheLastDayOfChristmas”

#OnTheLastDayOfChristmas #swan queen #emettkaysworld

[buttlerina]

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻 🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻Now say the fuck as much as you want now lol 😂

You Bet Your Ass I’m going to say exactly 72 things about myself. Yes, I counted. Although I’m bad at math so I might be wrong.

Just a bunch of bullshit under the cut I guess? (I don't have 72 stories to conjure up lmao)

1. I get angry when people make me do things when I could be taking a nap2. Apparently I'm scary when this happens3. Y'know when Jyushi does those noodle arms? I can Do That4. That's part of the reason why I got the nickname "Noodles" in elementary school5. But do not be fooled, these long skinny arms can do 100 push-ups6. The simple ones at the knee, not the feet7. Speaking of athletic stuff, I was known for being pretty good at basketball in high school8. Probably because for the three years prior to high school my dad and I would shoot hoops for about an hour every day9. Well, he would shoot hoops for an hour. I would shoot for 30 minutes. Dude had stamina10. He even taught me trick shots! At one point I got to be pretty good at shooting while spinning mid-jump11. Despite this, I've only ever played one actual game of basketball in my life12. It wasn't even a real game, it was like a fundraiser-type deal where the seniors had to do audience requests while we were playing13. At least it was better than what the seniors my sophomore year did. Donkey basketball. Poop Everywhere.14. One year my dad participated in the school's alumni basketball game15. I don't think the other guys on his team took him seriously because he was way older than the rest of them16. He sure showed them B)17. Because of this, my history teacher told me he was scared of my dad. "Did you see your dad's calves during that basketball game?! They were huge!"18. Anyway, I'm talking way too much about my dad and basketball (but to be fair, they are both very good)19. Even though I used to like reading a lot as a kid, I pretty much dislike it now20. I always find myself re-reading sentences over and over again21. Barely even reading a chapter makes me sleepy22. And sometimes it can be just so... boring.23. I don't even read that much fanfiction, so chances are if I read someone's stuff, I Really Really Like It24. However, the Artemis Fowl series is the greatest piece of literature literally ever and is always worth a re-read, my dislike of reading be damned25. The first fandom I drew anything for was InvaderZIM26. But the first fandom I actively participated in was The Lorax fandom... Or I guess, the Onceler fandom.27. It was also my first tumblr fandom, so all that stuff is still on this blog28. Deep, deep, deep on this blog29. At that point in time my URL was turtlescience--because I like turtles a lot!30. I have approximately 2 shrines in my room made out of stuffed turtles and turtle statues that friends and family have bought for me over the years31. And keep buying for me32. Seriously, I don't need any more, how do I tell them to stop33. I always bring my stuffed turtle named Tortellino wherever I'm going to sleep, though34. He's the perfect size and shape for hugging! I wish I could have him with me all the time35. Before Tortellino, I had a smaller turtle named Teewee, short for Turtly-Wurtly36. Not as great a hugger, but it had more sentimental value because I stole it got it from my mom (she didn't even realize that it used to be hers)37. Sometimes I wish I could just, like. Buy a bunch of toys from the toy aisle38. Oh shit, wait39. Where the FUCK did I put my nerf sword??40. Shit.41. I also have a huge box full of nerf guns somewhere at home42. I got all of them at Goodwill on my birthday a few years ago43. I need to find those too, shit44. I think my dad actually gave one of the biggest ones to one of my second cousins like Right In Front Of My Eyes45. That's kind of fucked up, right? Like, sure, I haven't played with them in like 3 years, but I didn't say I was done with them46. Although if I said anything about it, I would have looked like a spoiled child, and that's probably bad47. On the topic of toys, the basement of my parents' house is absolutely filled to the brim with toy cars48. My dad is a collector and used to sell them on summer weekends49. When I was little, I was forced to go with him and my mom to toy shows and car shows50. It was Boring. And. Hot. As. Hell.51. My sister used to go with us too but then grew old enough to stay home by herself52. But apparently not old enough to take care of me. Hecker.53. Real talk tho? My sister is the baes knaes54. You know the hijab emoji? She made the initial design for the pitch for that, and she ended up in a lot of news articles!! So cool!!55. Making emojis is part of her job kinda, so she made quite a few of the designs you see on your phone56. And she also makes book covers for short stories! She even got an award for one of them57. She's pretty much the reason that I changed my second major from Film to Graphic Design. She Opened My Eyes58. And THANK GOD I changed my major from Film. I've only taken one class and it is literally the most stressful thing ever59. I only thought I could do Film because I took a video editing class once and it was really fun matching the video to the music60. Coming up with an idea to execute is STRESSFUL, finding actors is STRESSFUL, and using the camera is STRESSFUL61. Actually in that video editing class, I did end up breaking the only camera we had, so I guess that was kind of foreshadowing in hindsight62. Back to my sister, she's actually my best friend and also the yin to my yang63. She's the tsukkomi and I'm the boke. Together we are the perfect comedy duo64. However, despite being on the same wavelength a majority of the time and also both of us being artists/writers, for some reason we can never collaborate on anything65. We've come up with a lot of really cool story ideas, but for some reason we never execute them66. We can't even collaborate on one picture lmao67. Wanna hear one of the best ideas we've had? Four words. Murder Mystery Dating Sim. Shit, dude.68. I'm a little worried about people stealing our idea, but I doubt anyone would read this far so I think it's fine69. (Hehe) My sister also introduced me to our Hella Rad Buddy, Chavez. Probably the most bullied person on the planet. A true Karamatsu.70. Before I even met Chavez, my sister would tell me stories about her and talk about how we're so similar71. And yeah, we're pretty much the same person, the only difference being that she is like, SUPER thirsty for Will Graham72. Anyway, she brings an element to our group (not sure what. victim?) that makes us the perfect comedy trio known as Reservematsu The Stankhouse, and we’re gonna take the world by storm

#thank you for letting me talk about myself #i really like doing that a lot but it's probably annoying lmao #buttlerinasks #Anonymous