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stardustizuku · 4 months

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Unfortunately I came across a very strange and misinformed video about Black Butler.

It’s not good. Don’t watch it. Unless you wanna ruin your day, in which case have fun.

Despite it all, I watched it. What left me wondering, however, was how off the mark the person who made the video was on, well, everything.

From their insistence that the Book of Circus Arc theme or point is non existent, to reading Ciel’s character so badly they genuinely thought the Green Witch Arc did nothing for his character development.

While baffled, it also made me think on how someone could read Black Butler so badly.

Sure, you can say that there’s no real way to read or interpret something “in the wrong way” but interpreting The Hunger Games as a pure battle-royale action story would make you believe it’s bad.

“Why are we focusing so much on how the capitol preps them?” Or “Why isn’t Katniss winning everything?” Or “I wanna know more about the rebellion” All questions that miss the actual point of the story - which is criticizing (not solving or ignoring) the way that media distracts us from violence via spectacle.

The same thing applies here. While there is no “right” way to consume media, there’s things that the author makes clear they wanna focus when creating a story. Things that, if you understand, make the story you’re reading actually make sense.

And in Black Butler there’s three things that you have to understand to properly get what Yana is saying.

Sebastian is the protagonist

Ciel and Sebastian’s relationship IS the story.

And that relationship is, fundamentally, a positive one.

A quicker version of it would be:

Black Butler is a love story from the POV of Sebastian, and you have to ship it to get it

- but that’s not entirely true.

You can still look at it as a complex but ultimately positive rship and get in broad strokes of what it’s conveying. It doesn’t have to be romantic. Although, it helps much more than a platonic framing.

(That said, interpreting their rship as father and son, still isn’t the best way to go about it. Mostly because by its very nature of “soul consuming” their relationship is extremely sexually charged. And hey, if you’re into that I don’t judge. However, if you’re desperately trying to interpret their rship as NOT romantic to the point you fall back on heteronormative patriarchal ideals of nuclear familiar as framing device, I don’t think this interpretation bodes with you)

Now, having all that ground work:

Why do I say these are the key components to understand BB?

Okay so, first,

1. Sebastian is the Main Character. The protagonist.

There’s a lot of people who wanna argue against it, claiming he’s either the villain or the antagonist. Both wrong.

He does not function as an antagonist. Even if, and an emphasis on if, you consider Ciel to the protagonist, Sebastian isn’t a narrative antagonist.

If you wanna go back to Creative Writing 101, be my guest. An antagonist is directly defined by the protagonist. It’s the opposing force. If the protagonist wants A, the antagonist wants to stop them from getting A.

Sebastian’s catchphrase is “Yes, my Lord”. He never opposes Ciel, in fact quite the contrary. By the mere fact they’ve created contract, it means that they’ve both agreed in the inevitable outcome.

People want to frame Sebastian as the villain, because Ciel having his soul taken by a demon, would be a BAD END in the context of their moral compass. They see Ciel as a frail victim of abuse, who’s being tricked by Sebastian, who wants Ciel’s soul.

Which is an. Interpretation. A bad one. But still one.

The narrative (and whether the narrative fits your personal moral compass and lack of critical thinking is irrelevant) treats Ciel as an agent in his own destiny. The abuse he suffered was the moment in which he had no control. It’s only after he meets Sebastian that he can rid of both his guilt and his despair, and do what he wants.

In this case though, it’s revenge.

The famous “Asthma” scene shows this. If Ciel is taken back to his past, he becomes helpless. Swarmed with pain and memories that make it so that he can’t even react. Sebastian is his saving grace. If Ciel didn’t have him, and the power he wields to rebuilt what’s broken, he would crumble once more.

If Ciel has a panic attack, because of all the pain he has, Sebastian picks him up and says “you are not a helpless child anymore, you are not a victim anymore, you have the power to do anything. So, what do you wanna do?”

Ciel’s answer is to kill them.

A proper analogy would be to say that, if Sebastian offers a gun, Ciel pulls the trigger. They are both at fault. Sebastian, strictly speaking, is not here to directly cause Ciel’s downfall, but as a tool Ciel uses to plunge into the abyss.

If, again if, you were to frame Ciel as a protagonist, Sebastian falls closer to the “Voice of reason” character. Not a literal voice of reason, but a literary one. If you have a protagonist and an antagonist exchanging ideals, the Voice of Reason serves to engage with the protagonist on their own ideals.

That said, Ciel isn’t the protagonist. The story quickly falls apart if you interpret it as such.

Things such as Ciel’s character arc being…shall I say odd?

It’s not that his character arc isn’t there, but it’s never lineal. His goals stay the same, the only thing that happens is that we start to peel back the “why”s of his goals. Throughout the series it’s never about Ciel understanding himself better, he knows who he is, he knows what he wants, he knows why he wants it. He doesn’t ever need to uncover these, but simply remember them. Because it’s always about the audience understanding Ciel.

He knows he wants revenge.

In the Circus Arc: He knows that he needs Sebastian because without him, the pain of the abuse he suffered would be too much to bear. But WE are introduced to it.

In the Book of Atlantis: He knows that with this new lease he does not want happiness and peace, he wants revenge. The one being told this is the audience.

In Green Witch Arc: He knows that their revenge isn’t for his family, the real Ciel or guilt. It’s because he wants it. He’s angry, he’s upset, and this is entirely for him. The one being told this is the audience.

Except. Not really. The one either discovering or remembering these key moments - is always Sebastian.

Sebastian is the one who reassures him that he now holds the power of a demon to override the pain. Sebastian is the one who remembers that to override that pain, Ciel wants revenge. And Sebastian is the one who discovers that that revenge isn’t built out of grief or guilt, but for himself.

We are witnessing it all, through the eyes of Sebastian.

This is why we have an extremely vague idea of who Ciel is, Sebastian does not have the whole picture.

If you haven’t been reading this manga with your eyes closed, you’ll realize we have a better grasp at Sebastian’s character than that of Ciel. We get a lot of insight on how he thinks and what he values through light hearted dialogue he has with the servants. You even see the character development in these little interactions.

Think about how when he first arrived to the mansion he magically created food with no regards to taste, but when he meets Bard he states that food is created to see whoever will eat it, smile.

That is character development, more than you will be able to see from Ciel.

Because Ciel’s character, while not static, doesn’t go from point A to point B. Mostly, cause it doesn’t need to. He went through that when he lost the real Ciel and got Sebastian. Everything we are watching is the falling out.

Now, given the fact that I’ve told you that it makes more sense for Sebastian to be the protagonist/main character, and that he 100% isn’t either a villain or antagonist in ANY of the interpretations you can get:

Do you believe me?

If you don’t, you’ll probably believe Yana herself.

This is from the first Volume, where Yana herself describes the process of making Black Butler. The primary idea behind the creation of BB was a butler as a “hero”.

If you go back to the introductory chapter, you notice that Ciel is barely mentioned. He’s simply the one to give Sebastian impossible tasks and standards that Sebastian must find how to overcome.

Ciel is properly introduced until the NEXT chapter. The second chapter has this formula too, introducing Lizzie as a problem to overcome. Although, to Sebastian the best way to “get rid of the problem” is simply to indulge her.

The issue here being that the problem isn’t as simple as a business meeting but something directly tied to Ciel and Ciel’s past. Each time that Sebastian has to solve a problem, it chips away at Ciel. While with Lizzie he shows a persona, once he’s alone with Sebastian he acknowledges the toll it took on him. It serves to build Ciel as Sebastian’s master, and how some problems aren’t as simple as discarding a tablecloth.

The third and the fourth, are a unified narrative, with a similar premise to the first chapter. Ciel gets kidnapped and Sebastian must find a way to retrieve him without raising suspicions.

If the first chapter is to set up what Sebastian must do as a butler, the third and the fourth serve to set up what he must do as a demon.

The entirety of the volume, and up to Book of Circus Arc, is about how Sebastian tries to follow the increasingly absurd orders that Ciel has - it is not about Ciel trying to solve them.

That’s how they work, we follow Sebastian for the most part, because he’s the one having to come up with the solutions.

If anything, in early Kuro, where the emphasis was more on a slice of life conflict, Ciel is the antagonist. He’s the one creating problems for Sebastian to solve.

What’s more, in the second volume, the very first chapter is one from Sebastian’s POV. So far, we hadn’t gotten an entire chapter from Ciel’s POV. In fact, I would find it hard to point to a single chapter where Ciel is the POV throughout. The reveal of real Ciel and the flashback is the closest contender.

But once we move past early Kuro, and into Book of Circus, this set up changes.

It’s fairly easy to assume that Ciel is the main character, because from this point on the conflict of the plot sorta surrounded him. We spend a lot of time with him and with his story. The enemies start being people directly tied to Ciel and Ciel’s trauma. Rarely, if at all, we get to see Sebastian before he met Ciel.The framing device for the story, is Ciel.

This is where point 2 gets intertwined.

2.- Sebastian and Ciel’s relationship IS the story.

The story begins at the point where Sebastian and Ciel met. Who Ciel was before he met Sebastian, informs why he’s the way he is when he does. You have to know all he went through to understand why he’s a brat, why he lashes out. However Sebastian’s past doesn’t matter…because Sebastian himself doesn’t care much for who he was, before he was “Sebastian”. That’s also part of the narrative.

Unlike Ciel, he doesn’t seem opposed to revealing information from before the contract. He talks about how pets from where he is from are gross, he talks about how he knows how to dance because of other places he’s been to, and alludes to the life he's lived before.

Just that, to him, they're footnotes.

He makes allusions to a very bland, uninteresting life, up to the point he meets Ciel.

That’s why we don’t know more about his past.

As for why we focus on Ciel’s story…okay maybe we need Creative Writing lessons 102

I studied Dramaturgy for about 3 to 4 years. And something you notice is how play-writing is the quintessential story telling. It’s making it work with the bare bones of a story.

Some other mediums have more finesse, more depth, or more spectacle - all amazing things that work for whatever they’re created for. But understanding a play, how and why it works, helps understand the fundamentals of any derivative story telling medium.

Particularly, conflict.

Conflict is dialogue and dialogue can take many forms. A story, in its essence, is a dialogue between two opposing ideas.

Take Batman, for example, who embodies the ideas of justice and order. On his own, he’s not a well rounded character.

If you ONLY present him, in a vaccum with nothing else, you don’t have a character. You have a list of characteristics that you’re supposed to know.

You only know who he is when you have dialogue with another character.

I say Dialogue, but it doesn’t necessarily mean spoken language at one another. Dialogue can mean fist fighting, playing tabletop games, talking to other people about the other, or even just a competition. The idea is to simply to compare and contrast both ideas.

If you want an example on how tabletop games serve as dialogue, watch the video “Well, Someone Had to Explain the Liar’s Dice Scene” by Lord Ravecraft

Another example, were we to retake Batman, you have him fight Joker. Who’s the embodiment of chaos and randomness.

In the following picture, you get far more information than the one previously shown. While the Joke fights with daggers and fake guns, Batman only uses his fists. He doesn’t use the tricks that Joker does. His serious demeanor, contrasted with Joker’s glee at the dangerous situation. The fact that Batman has a deathly grip on Joker’s shirt, while the Joker doesn’t, which shows a desperation to catch him.

You are being shown, through a dialogue, who Batman is.

It’s so much easier and much more effective to explore a character through another character.

This is the reason why Shonen has a tendency to make incredibly good gay ships. If you want to explore Naruto’s personality, and his feelings of inferiority, you HAVE to have him interact with Sasuke.

If you wanna understand Hinata’s passion for volleyball, you have him enjoy himself the most with the only other crazy motherfucker who’s as obsessed with volleyball - Kageyama.

And I think that originally, Yana had this problem.

Sebastian was the protagonist, but she had little room to develop him as a character in the confines of the manor, dealing with random enemies.

She likely tried to create Grell as someone of the same stature as Sebastian. Someone who could be this other person to engage dialogue with and show or allude to his past a bit more.

The problem being that Sebastian didn’t care for his past. Or really, engaging with anyone. He sees everyone as below him, but when confronted with Grell who isn’t below him, he doesn’t wanna talk to her.

So you’re stuck in conundrum.

How do you have dialogue with a character, that as a character trait, doesn’t really wanna have dialogue?

Well, Grell also solves the problem. Because only the moment she gets him to start any semblance of a dialogue - is questioning why he’s serving Ciel.

And this is the moment when it’s perfectly cemented that the focus of the story is their relationship.

Why is Sebastian here? Why does he stay? What did he see in Ciel that made him want this extremely convoluted contract?

THATS the dialogue.

THATS the conversation we’re having in Black Butler.

We need to know Ciel because understanding who he is, let’s us know WHY /Sebastian/ is here.

Then slowly, with the introduction with the Undertaker, we find out Sebastian’s conflict.

Which is…

He’s scared of losing Ciel. It becomes apparent with the constant imagery of the Undertaker taking away Ciel and at some point even obtaining r!Ciel’s body, that he’s worried it might happen.

But he can only be worried that Ciel might be taken away if he wants to stay near Ciel.

And that’s his character arc.

Realizing that he actually likes Ciel, cares for him and the role he plays a butler that he doesn’t want this to end.

In the first chapters, he doesn’t feel a need to protect Ciel anymore than what’s strictly necessary. Just don’t die, that’s about as deep as his involvement in chapter 4 gets.

But by the Green Witch Arc, he feels a need to protect Ciel from ANY harm.

This is why I also said

3.- Their relationship is fundamentally a positive one.

In broad strokes, Sebastian to Ciel is the person who allows him to survive. He’s not worried about giving up his soul since he’s already dead. While Ciel to Sebastian, is someone who’s making him have fun. He’s slowly becoming more and more attached to Ciel and the life he has with Ciel.

Their relationship is not that of just a predator and prey, but also of master and pet.

In the terms that Black Butler itself would call: Sebastian is a wild wolf acting like a collared dog.

Ciel is aware that the wild beast will eat him at the end of the day, but if he clings hard to leash for now, he might just be able to have Sebastian maul his abusers.

Sebastian as a dog, currently finds that he enjoys being a chained dog.

(This is demonstrated in the Green Witch arc where he quite literally says, he doesn’t wanna be a wild beast and prefers to be a butler)

And much like the actual DOG Sebastian, Ciel constantly interprets his attempts to get close and protect him, as an act of aggression.

This push and pull of Ciel’s perception of Sebastian and Sebastian’s true motives is what feeds the story.

And the briefs interludes were that isn’t the case (what other people call the “plot”, but I would refer to as the connective tissue) such as Sullivan and Wolfram, the other servant’s past, the grim reapers and the like, serve as a parallel to Ciel and Sebastian relationship. Either to signify how they care for each other, highlight their weaknesses or fears, or explore how they feel.

It’s no surprise that Sullivan and Wolfram are parallels to Ciel and Sebastian. A sheltered sickly child who seeks the protection of a cold hearted machine that only knew how to kill, but who eventually found he cared for her genuinely.

Undertaker and Claudia’s relationship being heavily paralleled with them, even though we aren’t 109% sure what they had but heavily implied it was a romantic attraction from the undead supernatural creature and a Phantomhive.

Everything is a parallel.

That’s why, like the approach of the terrible original video, is flawed.

Trying to interpret Black Butler as action scene after action scene, with mystery after mystery with the only connective tissue being the mystery of who burned down the mansion - is missing the trees for the forest.

That’s not the point.

And if you’re too much of a prude to engage with gothic horror in its gothic horror game, I see little point as to why you even bother to engage with it at all.

A lot of people, including the person who create the video, simply refuse to acknowledge Black Butler IS the story of Sebastian and Ciel as a close and positive relationship, romantically and sexually charged. The reason for it being that they’re “put off” by it.

Part of me wonders how much that is genuinely true, and how much is just performative outrage. It’s like ignoring the fact that Cersei and Jami are in an incestous relationship and try to frame it as “platonic love”, because the idea of it is THAT off putting.

But regardless of that, if you don’t like the fact that it’s as canon as canon can get, I would reccomend you don’t engage with the story at all.

As I’ve explained, the entirety of the series is about them. If you refuse to see Sebastian and Ciel as, at the very least, a duo that cares deeply for the other - you aren’t reading Black Butler.

I have no idea what you’re reading.Perhaps your own biases and subconscious stigma with British aesthetic. At that point, watch the fucking British Royalty Gossip Magazine. You’d find more substance there.

Just don’t be like the person in the video, please? Don’t play dumb. Don’t ignore the fact that Yana is a Shotacon, don’t ignore the fact Sebastian is a hero, don’t ignore the fact that the entirety of the story is based on Sebastian and Ciel’s dynamic.

Because if you do, you are ashamed. You are ashamed of what this story is about. You don’t wanna engage with the text, you want to engage with yourself. You wanna project into Ciel whatever traumas and experiences you have, for the sake a vanity project, where you come out as the morally superior.

You don’t wanna talk about Black Butler, you wanna talk about how good YOU are. How you “don’t sin” by watching it “without all the gross unholy stuff”.

Which is the exact opposite of what BB is about.

So, if you don’t want to, save us all the humiliation fetish and leave.

#Kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebaciel #essay #loli speaks

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lunerium · 1 month

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Sebastian belonged to Ciel and Ciel belonged to Sebastian the moment they met.

Sebastian gave himself to Ciel the moment they met. Sebastian was summoned by the cry of Ciel’s soul, by the sheer corruption that he so desperately sought. Sebastian went to that sacrificial room not because of the amateur cultists attempting a satanic ritual, but because he was looking for Ciel. He wanted to own Ciel. He chose Ciel.

And when Ciel accepted to surrender himself to the devil, Sebastian marked him. He marked Ciel’s eye and his own hand with the symbol that would bind them together. Sebastian marked him, corrupted him, made him his.

But at the same time, he gave himself to Ciel. The contract is more than just Sebastian granting Ciel his powers. It is Sebastian turning himself in to Ciel, belonging to Ciel, wholeheartedly devoted to Ciel. From the moment that contract was signed, they belonged to each other in the most primal sense.

In this panel, Sebastian says “the power of the devil is yours” which means that Sebastian wholeheartedly let himself be controlled by Ciel, to be owned by him.

Therefore, Sebastian told Ciel, “I am yours”.

#sebaciel #sebastian michaelis #black butler #ciel phantomhive #kuroshitsuji #proship #kuroshitsuji meta #meta #character analysis

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hwaightme · 5 months

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Impressionism

(masterlist) (taglist)

🩸 pairing: vampire!gallerist/collector!seonghwa x art historian!gn!reader 🩸 genre: fluff, noir, soulmates, supernatural, strangers(?) to lovers, art nerding 🩸 summary: a post-graduate student specialising in impressionism, you were a regular visitor to the many art galleries in the city. who knew that among the paintings you would encounter your favourite, timeless work of art? 🩸 wordcount: 12.3k 🩸 warnings/tags: questionable editing, mention of blood, fangs, wounds, suggestive, many pet names (love, darling etc), art theory/history ponderings, time skips, mention of rituals, philosophy, hwa is centuries-old, yearning hwa 🩸 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🩸 a/n: happy birthday to @starrysvn!! lheo, ilysm, and i hope you enjoy this little rambling <3 hugs to everyone, all reblogs, notes and comments appreciated! 🩸 playlist: nfwmb - hozier, who is she? - i monster, keep on loving you - cas, la vie en rose - edith piaf, a l'ombre de nous - pierre barouh, les feuilles mortes / sous le ciel de paris - yves montand, moon over bourbon street / until - sting

‘Love and Pain’ - an enigmatic masterpiece that was painted by Edvard Munch, the famous Norwegian artist, in 1895. In vibrant oil paints a dramatic scene interpreted by millions as something more sensual, darker, revealing was immortalised. Perhaps quite literally. You leaned back on one hand, feeling the coolness of the bench located in the middle of the gallery hall, careful to not let the notebook in your hands slip from your lap. ‘Vampire’ - first, it was a label for the woman with the alluring, long red locks that was leaning over her supposed lover, then it turned into a second name for the work. It was comical how Munch himself had initially stated the piece depicted nothing more than a woman kissing the neck of a man, and yet, the tale had told itself. What followed were six versions of this same subject, with a woodcut titled “Vampyr II”, followed by paintings titled ‘Vampire’ and ‘Vampire in the Forest’, and then through common acceptance that this indeed was the ‘submission of a man to the bite of a vampire’, if you were to paraphrase a critic who had been in an astoundingly similar position as you, except without the decades upon decades of other material to refer to. They had been the firstcomers, the initial perceivers to set the tone for society’s consumption of the artwork, the louder of the many voices in the artwork who often had the final say. In some senses, they were your long lost colleagues - they were there to create history, and you were there to study it.

While it was not exactly a part of the movement you had decided to specialise in, you nonetheless would never reject the opportunity to learn more about the stunning world of visual arts, trying to guess how the artist had felt in the moment, what did they see beyond what they presented to the world, how did they translate the heart into brushstrokes. You were taken by all forms of art since you were little - having grown up surrounded by items that were far removed from what you called your air, you were intrigued by anything that was external to your version of ordinary. In your case, it just so happened to be the little private gallery that you had spent almost all of your monthly allowance to visit when you were a school kid - you had been so dedicated, in fact, that the elderly guard who had often also acted as a guide to the visitors had become your first friend in the art world, something of a grandparent figure, and on multiple occasions - when the lack of eyes would allow, simply let you through with a grin and glance out of the entrance doors.

And so here you were, many years later, many hard decisions and conversations behind you, regarding artworks with an unprecedented soulful closeness that you had initially thought was unattainable. Had you believed all those who remained outside of the walls of your personal paradise, you would have been immersed in the same cycle that had been drilled into the majority of your family members, except maybe a handful who you had never met for the exact reason that they had chosen something for themselves. But you regarded your dream as the thorned path - undoubtedly more challenging, not immediately fruitful, but in the long run leading to the heaven of your design. What more could you ask for?

It was enjoyable to be alone with the paintings surrounding you, portals to new realms that any visitor could have the pleasure of exploring. And what was even more inspiring, was that in the eye of every beholder was a different universe, and no matter who one would speak to, their version of the painting would be different, even if just slightly. You huffed, amused. When was the last time you had visited a gallery with anyone else? You could not quite recall - it was likely that you had never seeked company from another because you were more than satisfied with the company of the legendary works that were regarding you from the many walls. It was possible to compose oneself, spend limitless time on every piece, study the details, and drift into one’s own musings when there was no one to ground them. This was when you dared to say you got your best work done. Even though you, of course, conducted research within university and ventured out to galleries, museums, collectors or auctions only within professional bounds, the bulk of the thinking process was carried out in times such as this. When it was just you, your notebook and pen, and a new point of focus. However, this time, you could not say you were fully attentive to the painting that you had decided to focus on, as a certain someone was appearing to share your level of interest in ‘Love and Pain’ too.

A gentleman who could not be much older or younger than you, at most a couple of years, stood off to the right of the bench, unmoving, gaze fixated on the painting. Dressed in a pinstripe navy suit, light blue dress shirt, lacquered dress shoes and a matching navy tie, he was nothing short of being a moving work of art. Hints of a glimmer from his thin framed, elegant silver spectacles gave the man a scholarly aura, while the slicked back dark hair - evidently a lot longer than the styling would suggest, added notes of business, entrepreneurship, perhaps leadership. Nothing was out of place, not a crease, not an exposed thread in sight. Needless to say, your curiosity had been sparked.

Much like you found joy in exploring creations in the realm of the visual arts, you were fond of crafting stories about the people who were strangers in passing. You could not help it; perhaps this affinity for creative internal ramblings had come as a package with studying the degree you had selected, or perhaps this was a naturally occurring guilty pleasure that you simply had not had the chance to entertain before you cut yourself off from expectations and predetermined patterns of thought. But now, you had the full pleasure of wondering, letting your mind travel to lands far away as you took the real life masterpiece in, and pondered why the man could be here, what he could be thinking as he studied Munch’s work, and what resonated with him, and only him.

There was a melancholia with the weight of centuries resting upon his shoulders, that much you could decipher in the stranger’s stance. Even then, there was a gentle burning flame within his heart judging by just how dedicated he was to inspecting the artwork. Like he was seeing an old friend for the first time in years, and was attempting to memorise them anew and recognise each change, bit by bit. You suppressed a chuckle, entertaining the possibility of this man finding a kinship with the painting, but chose to set the idea aside for the time being, instead focusing on sketching his emotional landscape. Was the stranger remorseful? Lonely? Perplexed? You could not quite pinpoint the answer, at least not before you noticed the man’s head starting to turn, and soon enough, his eyes were peering into your own.

They were two pools of deep chocolate, an all-consuming shade that, due to the ever so slightly dimmer lights than in the general halls of the gallery, appeared to be approaching a captivating onyx. The gaze that originated from behind the glasses, and glided across the room that was suddenly too small for two struck you, and you could feel heat starting to rise on your face, blush threatening to reveal the effect of the man’s spontaneous act of confidence. Lowering your head, you gave the stranger a sheepish grin, and pretended to make a random note, pen erratically scribbling over a filled page. He continued to regard you with that same unwavering expression, and only when you looked up again did he seem to catch himself and give you a closed-mouth smile, equally as bashful as yours, and crossed his arms. One step, another, and he was right by the painting, though careful to not obstruct your view - instead, he took his time to read the brief paragraph on the information plaque that had been stuck to the wall off to the side of ‘Love and Pain’. With the same familiarity that is common among those grieving, or in a state of existential sorrow. A bittersweetness prevailed in his aura, one that reminded you of autumn - the falling leaves in red and gold, twirling to join a magnificent carpet, but nonetheless, making a departure, albeit a nearly unnoticeable one. Had he seen many fallen leaves? Was he himself approaching the season? You gasped, but even though the sound was barely audible, you caught the stranger making a minuscule turn in response.

His footsteps were louder than your thoughts, his departure an irrevocably impactful act that left you breathless. You did not know him, and yet you felt as though you had gotten a glimpse at multiple lifetimes, and were part of a moment that was greater than yourself. In the wordless exchange, question after question had found its root, and something told you that you should not dare attempt to craft him a backstory, and choosing to believe in anything but what would be declared by him would be a gross misinterpretation, much like one that was carried out by those who did not wish to reflect on art and look beyond a first impression. For the first time since you had made your initial discovery of the arts, you felt like you were not alone in the gallery, the other visitor’s presence remained so intense that he could be sat right next to you, scrutinising the same painting, entertaining the same thought. Was the woman with the bright tresses indeed what she had been declared to be over the many years she had been introduced to many venues, many variations of public, and finally finding a home on this wall? Did she settle with her lover, or perhaps a carefully selected victim? Would the man have an answer?

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ . It was unlike you to retrace your steps a mere few days after a visit and return to the same gallery, amble down the same halls, and seek for a new source of investigative inspiration among the same selection. This obviously did not mean that you would never return, definitely not, that would be almost criminal of you to possess such intentions, but you tended to try to cleanse your palate with alternative movements, contemporary takes and avant garde interpretations between searches which were more directly related to your studies. And yet, for the first time in a while, nothing was stopping you from your return. It felt only natural, and so right. Moreover, you felt no unease when you headed straight towards the section that housed the impressionists. An individual with an unspoken, mysterious mission, you were on the hunt for the creative streak, something that would help you ponder the next section of your hefty dissertation, and you could sense that it had to be somewhere here. And, like always, you were right.

‘Bazille’s Studio’, one of the most famous works painted by the so-called ‘tragic artist’ of the impressionists, Frédéric Bazille in 1870. In fact, it had been a collaboration between him and Édouard Manet, another gifted artist, though more renowned as a figure leading modernism, and depicted a scene of discussion and creative collaboration in the studio that Bazille had shared for a certain period of time with other spectacular figures of the visual arts, Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, who could also be found in this painting. On the walls were works rejected by the Salon, which at the time had been the one of the most influential, famous art exhibitions in the Western World, administered by the Académie des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Interestingly, above the piano on the right hung a painting which Bazille had purchased from Monet, potentially hinting at the material ties between them, and the importance the young artist had because of his familial wealth. In a sense, Bazille expressed his support, as well as showed an intimate, platonic scene of the art world where there was a moment of calm, of mutual appreciation, despite the financial troubles and tensions due to character that had been experienced in those walls.

You stepped closer to the painting, trying to detect the transition from Bazille’s to Manet’s hand, the latter of whom painted in the former to take ‘centre stage’, palette in hand. Truly seamless work, though what else could it be? This painting had been a new addition to the permanent collection, and after strenuous, detailed restoration work to give the oil paints their original vibrancy and for impeccable strokes to forget the burden of time, you had the pleasure of seeing it in person. You were an arm’s length away from yet another work essential to history, culture and the arts as a societal colossus.

While it was easy enough to appreciate the technical detail, you found yourself halting to remember the names of all those depicted in the painting, failing to finalise the list in your head. Starting from Bazille, you had determined for yourself the presence of Monet and Manet in his vicinity quickly enough, however where Renoir was, or what were the names of the two other gentlemen in the scene, slipped your mind. You rocked to the side to lean closer to the plaque that was meant to provide you with the information, however you only found the name of the painting, the artist and the medium, much to your misfortune. Clicking your tongue, you returned to studying the faces of each individual, and furrowed your brows in agitated concentration. It was simple to take out your phone and search for the answer, though you knew that just as neutral that action would be, so would be your reaction unless you were to remember, or somebody were to-

A presence to your side caught you off-guard, and you felt a shiver run up your spine. One glance was enough to determine that it was the same man from yesterday, only the outfit revealing a change. Other than that, he had the same impeccable posture and stance, as well as a thoughtful look towards the painting in front of you both. His arms were crossed, though not in a defensive manner; instead they offered an interpretation of philosophy, as though this man was carrying centuries of wisdom with him, history having pummelled down on him and yet needing to support it like Atlas; the titan carrying the world.

Today, he was dressed in a mahogany coloured suit, with a white top underneath and some black boots with thick white rubber soles - quite the transition from last time, when he had been a manifestation of a sleek and pristine office gentleman. Hair, now let down and wavy, neatly framed his face, accentuating the regalness of his features. It was astounding how you were still sure that it would be more likely to find a man of this fashion in a painting, rather than standing beside you. You kept quiet, not wanting to interfere with his musings. Perhaps it was just a silly coincidence that the two of you were at the same place and at the same time again - how else? You did not know him, and you hoped that he did not know you. Though, you truly did not mind his company, and maybe it could serve as your motivation to figure out the rest of the characters in the painting. Once again, your attention returned to the task at hand, but before you could even begin to list off prominent figures of the art world during the era of Impressionism, a deep, honey-like whisper halted you and made you hold your breath.

“Auguste Renoir is the one seated, Emile Zola, the writer, is on the stairs, Monet, Manet and Bazille are, as you likely know in the centre, and that,” he paused to raise his hand, gesturing in the general direction of the far right of the piece, “is Edmond Maitre. Pianist, art collector, and Bazille’s closest friend.”

“I- uh- thank you. How did you know I was trying to recall? Pardon me, I must look so clueless-” you trailed off, eyes finding the floor, an action which seemed to be your automatic response to being under inspection of the man, though this time, he captured your gaze quickly by stepping closer towards you. Looking up, you found concern and apology in his eyes.

“No! Not at all, I… sorry if I misunderstood and I am sorry for forcing you into such erroneous conclusions,” he gave you an ever so slightly crooked smile, charming, very disarming and so suiting this beautiful stranger, that you were instantly prompted by your instincts to return it, dismissing doubt.

“You saved me,” you joked, though the phrase contained within itself an unlikely compassion. Two people, alone in the same gallery, sharing a precious dialogue was something to cherish, and with all your might you wanted to make it last.

“Just as you made me regard the painting in a new light, for which I thank you, greatly,” he bowed his head, the smile not leaving his face for a moment. There was a recognition in his gaze, as well as an inexplicable admiration. What did he discover?

“I guess it might be true that no matter how many times you see a painting, every viewing brings something new,”

“Well said. Are you an artist? A critic, perhaps?” He inquired, moving closer to stand level with you, head turned slightly in your direction to spare the occasional glance. You shook your head slowly, wondering if in a retelling of your destiny you could have pursued either of the careers he had mentioned.

“I am in the arts, though rather than looking at the present I remain in the past. Art historian, well, a postgraduate. Nothing too fancy.”

“Oh? But that is marvellous, and what are you focusing on?”

“I like to call it the painting in plenair during the turn of the century. I focus mainly on impressionism, though do sometimes stray into its interplay with post-impressionism, modernism and expressionism.”

“Ah, no wonder I have been seeing you here often. Enjoying the new collection?” he asked, eager to hear your opinion. There was excitement in his voice as though you were a renowned expert and were about to bestow upon him a priceless evaluation. And this was without considering the technicality of you having only half-met. Just crossing paths twice in one week.

"Yes, of course… The collection is unlike any other I have seen. I keep wanting to return and stay here for ages." You explained, glancing at the stranger while he nodded along.

"Incredibly happy to hear it. I swear I have seen you around quite often during the past month that the exhibition has been open? Am I correct?" evidently, your rapid blinking was interpreted rather quickly as perplexion, for the man gasped ever so lightly, as if to catch his own speeding thoughts.

“I- how do you know? I do believe this is our… second time meeting?” you uttered, one eyebrow raised in suspicion, which, to your disbelief, revealed something akin to fear in the beautiful stranger’s features. Nervously, he adjusted a strand of hair that was threatening to cover his right eye.

“Not quite… you were present at the opening event, right?” he quizzed.

“Indeed, my depar- wait. But how? Respectfully, I am starting to think you know me.” you enunciated with newfound caution, while the man pursed his lips. One second, another passed in near total silence, until a chuckle escaped him and he shook his head. It appeared as though he was mentally scolding himself - his eyes held no malice, instead glinting with hope, that melancholic wisdom, and something unidentifiable, ethereal, supernatural.

“I think it is high time I introduce myself before this gets out of hand. See, in some sense I work here, and most of my days are spent in the gallery or labouring for it-”

“Ah, I see-”

“Park Seonghwa, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” with one arm folded behind his back and the other on his chest, he bowed to you like how you imagined princes in the numerous portraits you had studied would bow. And the most enthralling part was how the gesture flowed, and was so befitting. Quickly, you bowed in return, but while raising your head, you froze. It hit you why he would know. And know a lot. And would remember you, and likely anyone and everyone who visited. In a low whisper, you asked:

“Am I… correct in assuming that you are ‘the’ Park Seonghwa?” quickly enough, you realised that it was a mistake to find his eyes again - clearly, you were not ready for the intensity, nor for the intrigue that was contained within them, nor for the fact that he moved another step closer to you, the rubber of his boots dampening any sound produced.

“I never knew that there was a ‘the’ attached to my name. I simply love art.”

“Well that love translated into the creation of what is possibly the greatest gallery in the nation, if not worldwide,”

“Oh you flatter me too much, ah, your name-”

“L/N Y/N, and I, too, love art.”

“Elated to hear it,” he gleamed, and you swore the room exploded with the illumination of a thousand stars.

Stunning, awe-inspiring, ever so elegant. He was a walking dream. In that smile was concealed a certain something that had been taboo, a well-kept secret until a couple of decades ago, when those like Seonghwa had started to be fully integrated into society, and no longer had to hide, changing identity from one century to another. With that came Seonghwa’s success - you had read in an article that advertised the permanent exhibition a short blurb of his story, and how for many turbulent decades, the man single-handedly collected masterpieces, crafted a meticulous network and introduced genius artists to the world, and the world to the artists. The gallery was a magnum opus for Seonghwa - a presentation of what he had achieved as a collector, as a patron of the arts, and a celebration of his personal culture.

You could not help but hone in on the fangs, and recall the original reason why it was even possible for Seonghwa to obtain such legendary works and have as much influence as he presently did. It was not spontaneous; submerged in turmoil, he had personally approached artists who, previously abandoned by critics and other prospective buyers, had never considered a future beyond a mysterious tomorrow. Hiding his own true nature, he crafted the tale of a ‘Park’ dynasty, and rose again and again to continue his work. Perhaps, now, some might argue that once he had revealed himself as a vampire the velocity of Seonghwa’s developments had fallen, but you would passionately argue the opposite. It was challenging to believe that any move by this stunning artistic mastermind was not strategic - the announcement had given the gallery more partnerships, more donations, and in turn, an even greater prominence in the community both among professionals and enjoyers.

“Thank you,” the phrase spilled from your lips inadvertently. It seemed to be the only thing that was reasonable to say in that given moment. You pondered the pains that must have been suffered to make the world that you were consumed by come together, and the painting in front of you, aside from what was contained within the frame,now shined in a new light externally too, possessing its own story, resembling a search for a kindred spirit, a true home.

Seonghwa remained quiet, the words of gratitude echoing in his heart. It was endearing, encouraging to hear such warmth from you. So, you did know him, at least the parts he had shown to the public - as was expected from someone so deeply ingrained in visual arts and history, but he could not help but identify it as something much greater than mere awareness. The openness with which you had welcomed conversation with him, the kind charm that radiated from you as you engaged in the careful verbal waltz reminded the vampire of times long, long ago when all that existed for him was drive, enamourment and art. Oh, how your eyes glimmered. His heart clenched into near unbearable agony as he read your expressions, and wondered how much you have seen, what have you yet to see, who you were in this temporary life. If only he could ask fate to tell him how much you remembered of who you had been before.

“No, thank you, for giving this,” he gestured to the gallery around him, graceful hand unfurling as though revealing a delicate flower, “meaning, and reason to exist.”

“I highly doubt I am of much significance, Mister Park,” you responded, a soft smile on your face.

“Would anything hold the same meaning if there was no one to behold it?” he responded. You chose not to answer, catching onto the rhetoricism, “and please, call me Seonghwa. I’d like to say we are to be good friends.”

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Sitting across from Seonghwa in the cafe that was located on the top floor, above the main halls of the gallery made you feel strangely serene. Today he had foregone the straighter hair styles that you had begun to get used to, surprising you with a head of tousled, almost curled locks that embodied the world’s softness, though remained to be quite the contrast to the more formal and highly fashionable attire that adorned his stature. A suit, tastefully oversized with a buttoned double breasted jacket that was simultaneously serving as a shirt, the plunging v-shaped neckline revealing perfectly smooth skin, and what you noted to be a solitary freckle right in the centre of his collarbone. The trousers, at least from the glimpse that you had allowed yourself when you had met at the entrance to the cafe were of a loose fit, defining his waist at the top and falling to form an almost skirt-like silhouette should he stand how he usually stood: the echoes of what would be called the ‘third position’ in ballet, more relaxed, but still retaining an elegance that only he could carry. The biggest shock to you, however, was Seonghwa’s choice of shoes - a refreshing point to the visual, he had selected to contrast the formalwear with a pair of limited edition, geometrically intriguing Converses. You could catch a glimpse of one of them from over the edge of the table whenever his slightly shaking leg, positioned over the other, would rock forwards just that tiny bit stronger.

While the setting was meant to be casual, the circumstances in which you found yourself were nothing short of miraculous. Never in a million years would you have imagined for it to be possible to be sat across the table from, quite possibly, one of the most legendary contributors to art restoration, collection and exhibition. On top of that, Seonghwa was a figure who actively bridged the gap between disparate communities, finding a common language, and using the arts as a salvation. You were in awe, and could not hold back on regarding the handsome vampire as he quietly reported your and his orders to the waiter who had floated to your table.

“Are you sure you do not want anything else?”

“Yes, I am sure. I do not wish to exploit your kindness-”

“-Not at all. I hope you do not mind that I… must make a rather unconventional order,” he smiled sheepishly, clearing his throat so as to attempt to hide his doubts, though you were uncertain as to how much of such emotions could possibly be left after what had to have been centuries.

“An unconventional order is pouring a sugary energy drink into a triple shot espresso and calling it dinner,” you answered, eyes travelling from Seonghwa’s face to the mural on the wall a few tables away that wrapped behind him and to your left, disrupted only by the occasional floor length window that provided city vistas - rather gloomy, compared to the optimistic illumination of the restaurant. Perhaps out of pity, or out of genuine entertainment, Seonghwa chuckled.

“That does sound like an acquired taste, indeed. Thank you,”

“No need. Thank you for inviting me,” you turned back, nodding a polite bow as he softly waved your gesture off.

A silence settled across the table as you waited for your respective drinks. Your hand, had you not consciously restrained yourself, would have probably reached for the phone that you stored in your purse, but now was fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, finding the buttons to stress test the threads that had them sewn tight to the fabric. You were not bored, in fact, far from it. You needed a barrier. The grandeur of this man’s presence was almost overwhelming. He was not a mere individual in a room, he consumed it. Had you just walked in, you were certain that your gaze would still settle on his form. Just like the concrete outside was grey, and the pause retained a divine ambiguity, Seonghwa was unforgettable. In an attempt to calm your clouded thoughts, you studied the mural once more.

“May I inquire into your thoughts on the decor?”

“The choice of ‘A Sunday on La Grande Jatte’ is wise. I am guessing you were the one to make the decision?” you heard an exhale, and once more your attention was captured.

“Alas, I cannot take full accolades for this. This stemmed from a discussion that a good friend of mine and I had one late night. Seurat just so happened to make an appearance amidst the chatter, and so… this was born,” he gestured at the surroundings. Clearly, the interior was picked carefully to fit the theme of the legendary painting.

From the colours to the textures and the greenery that had been intricately set up across the restaurant, every detail had a meaning and a place, and did not take away from the spaciousness of the hall. It was breathable, while still giving the illusion that you were stepping into a whimsical impressionist paradise. Perhaps that was another reason why you could not quite contain your disbelief firstly in your encounter, secondly in its progression, and thirdly in your interlocutor’s warmth.

“Spectacular, truly. I have heard you have an eye for detail, however this surpasses all expectations.”

“Oh? There is more you have heard?” he interjected, leaning closer to you and placing an elbow on the table, simply to rest his head on his hand. While this could potentially be seen as slightly unceremonious, it hinted at well-kept confidence, ownership, control. A healthy undercurrent of motivation that came with indirect praise.

“I-oh y-yeah of course,” you did not mean to stutter, but some part of you was grateful you did, for the smirk that had threatened to burst on Seonghwa’s lips was enough for you to feel ignited to elaborate, “if my memory is not failing me, you were the one to distinguish a reproduction of a piece some time ago, no?”

“Ah- yes. That was a Degas reproduction. I must say, the attempt was sincere, however when I saw the-, hm, you will not be startled, will you?”

“Please,” you urged him to continue, intrigued by the story.

“When I saw the original, as it was being made and when it had been finalised, it would be shameful of me to not spot a fake,” he fell back into his chair, just in time for the drinks to be served.

A coffee for you, and a non-descript beverage concealed by a semi-opaque, tall glass for him. Though, you did not need to be a detective to guess what it was that Seonghwa was bringing to his lips, and what he took a tentative sip of. The only mystery that was remaining for you was what ‘type’ he had picked - was it O+? B-? Whatever else? You joined him in the tasting, lifting the mug and indulging in the wonderful aroma of your americano. It did not strike you as necessary to opt for something fancier and lie to yourself - so you settled for your regular order, much to your joy. Familiar taste and the reliability of the caffeine hitting your system painted the scene in more comforting colours, and gradually, you found yourself easing into the dialogue more and more, until life stories, musings and a surprisingly large common ground came pouring.

You discovered that Seonghwa possessed a unique sensitivity and attunement to those around him. Focused on the emotional experiences, he felt through time and could recount emotions like the memory was from a mere few days, rather than decades ago. He was well-spoken, eloquent, intelligent, polite in every right as he navigated through the linguistic landscape and guided you like a partner in a dance. You were spiralling oh so quickly, intrigue catching up to you and prompting you to sacrifice all of your senses to the man and the pleasantly intoxicating atmosphere he captured you in. He was enchanting, and it was far too easy to give in.

“May I reveal something?” in a hushed tone, he inquired, a finger absent-mindedly tracing the rim of his glass.

“Oh, a little secret?” you raised your eyebrows in jest, lightening the initial seriousness with which Seonghwa uttered the question.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Depends on how you take it. A confession might be more accurate,” he waited for you to take the final sip of your coffee before continuing, unphased by your unwavering focus, “if I were to be honest, I have been meaning to approach you.”

“Pardon?”

“As you know we have a… common awareness of each other thanks to what is housed under this roof, but ever since we first unknowingly crossed paths… I wanted to speak to you.”

Confused, you did not speak, though the words contained an unparalleled affection within them. What could he possibly mean? You chose to refrain from commenting, your hesitation prompting the vampire to continue.

“Do you remember the most recent opening night? Of the exhibition? I believe you were with someone…” he trailed off, hoping you would continue for him.

“Ah, yes, a friend of mine from university. So?”

“This might sound strange but, I distinctly remember you mentioning a name. An artist from the same era, dubbed as L/N Y/N?”

“Goodness, you overheard that? I am so sorry, it is just that said artist has intrigued me for some time, and I was half-hoping to encounter their work. Maybe it is because our names are the same but still….”

“Elusive, aren’t they?”

“To put it softly, yes. I only vaguely recall seeing… maybe one piece in my lifetime, when I was little, and then… nothing. And there is barely any information on the artist online, let alone libraries and archives.”

“Hm, indeed. I guess that makes two of us…”

“Two of us who are searching?”

“That’s right. It brought me happiness to know that I am not alone in this endeavour.”

“Then we can keep searching together.”

While you were positive that you could not conceal your interest, Seonghwa’s did not go unnoticed either. It was of course possible that he was simply well-versed in political correctness, but the burning depth of his pupils told you otherwise. Enthrallment, the discovery of a kindred spirit, recognition, the rekindling of a bond that had existed at some point long ago - all fantasies that played out in your mind as you returned that look with subtle fervour. You wondered how many people he graced with those charms. How many had succumbed to his influence, becoming a marker on his infinite life path, a fleeting second? How many had his lips known, how many had turned into a decadent treat for a genius man with natural peculiarities? While the researcher part of you was perplexed and aching for answers, the you that was caught in the moment simply let it go on, and the feeling of Seonghwa’s leg brushing against yours, and the pride blooming in your chest as he praised the few articles and papers you had published upon having claimed that he ‘knew some things about you too’ preoccupied you in the most magnificent way.

Naturally, you agreed to meet Seonghwa again. On your journey home, in the privacy of the anonymous metro, immersed in the cacophony of deafening rails and the millions travelling to anywhere, you pressed your phone to your racing heart as the vampire, the man, the beguiling Park Seonghwa sent you a message confirming so. Who knew a simple selection of words could be so captivating?

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Under the comforting thrum of raindrops on the large umbrella, you walked down the streets of the grey-coloured city, your hand lightly holding onto Seonghwa’s arm while he ensured that both of you were protected from the elements. Despite the dull light and bitterness of the cooling season, Seonghwa appeared radiant, truly timeless with every gesture and stride. The elegant angles of his face that you could tirelessly study stood out against the monotone buildings and overcast skies. His voice drowned out the sound of droplets racing one another to the ground. A miraculous gentleman who appeared in your life much like a portrait, or a landscape - a masterpiece you wanted to explore in every spare moment, and better yet, this masterpiece was equally as open to you as you were to him.

“...essentially, yes. It is like another nationality. A marker of species isn’t too far isn’t it? Just another line on a stack of documents. Nothing more,” Seonghwa concluded his explanation, pursing his lips for a moment before letting an exhale turned dragon’s breath escape into the afternoon.

“Makes sense. So would that mean there are separate medical papers and treatment too?”

“Well… when regeneration fails us or when a given case is severe enough… yes. Though it is handled by private clinics run by other vampires.”

“There are private clinics?”

“Of course. Often they are connected to donation points too, and that is how we remain on the right side of the law and stay alive,” he nodded to himself, giving you a bittersweet smile when he noticed confusion overtake your gaze. “Blood,” he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, “I mean blood.”

In a nervous stupor, you cleared your throat and focused on a droplet that was hanging onto the edge of the umbrella, right in front of you, all the way until the gentle motion of Seonghwa’s amble provoked its abrupt descent onto the stone under your feet.

“Ah, yes, I see-”

“If you find this disturbing, we can forget the conversation ever-”

“-I want to know you better, Seonghwa, truly-”

“Careful-”

“Sorry wha-”

With an extraordinary swiftness, you were tugged abruptly by the arm. Not registering your surroundings, you merely went with the inertia, caught off-guard by the proximity of your face to the vampire’s as he held you against him with the arm that you had previously been resting your own on. A hand that you raised on instinct went limp and landed on Seonghwa’s chest, feeling the thick felted wool of his coat. The ringing of a bell, going farther away from you by the second, incessant but at least waking you up from the blur, was enough for you to put two and two together - a cyclist who thought they owned every part of the street, like always. You sighed.

“Reckless… my apologies I did not mean to-” Seonghwa tried to detangle himself, refusing to remain in your personal space for longer than necessary no matter how much he did want to, but his efforts were reduced to nothing when your hand moved to a hold on his upper arm - reassuring, comfortable, accepting.

“Thank you,” you interrupted, “that bike would have definitely run into me…”

“It’s nothing,” a low chuckle echoed in your ears as Seonghwa peered into your pupils, confidence that had previously wavered out of habitual caution now restored, growing into a pride as you continued to hold onto him, “the man was slow enough for there to be no risk of harm. I hope you are not too startled though.”

“Oh? You have super powers too? Do elaborate,” you jested, resuming your walk.

“I would call it more like… being a finely tuned machine. Can’t say I have bad reaction speed. Though I must say, it was a little challenging pulling you out of the way,” there was an evident intent behind the words. However, you were too curious to pay it any mind, instead preferring to find out their meaning live.

“How so?”

“I think this,” dropping his arm, Seonghwa’s hand reached for yours, and without a moment of hesitation, his fingers were intertwining with yours, his palm pressed against yours, “would be better. You know, for safety.” As if you could ever reject him. This was a fact you had established for yourself with an unprecedented certainty. His gallant disposition, attentiveness all confirmed a care for you that was impossible to ignore.

There was something picturesque about the present after meeting this wonderful, infinite pool of art and humanity. You found yourself leafing through articles, art books and biographies with a more wistful and sentimental perspective, imagining what it would be like if it were you who was immortalised in the thousands of brushstrokes, or if you were on the other side of the canvas, how would you go about depicting the scenes unfolding before your very eyes. Timelessness - a quality shared between the art you so adored, and the man you had encountered and over the weeks, let your intrigue be transformed into a shy flame of infatuation. Perhaps it was the underlying reason why you did not reject his advances, nor cower in fear of his true nature with which he was upfront. The other, of course, was the search for the mysterious artist, an adventure that fuelled many of your dialogues, and prompted you to spend more time in the library and the archives of your university than you had ever done before - to the point where Seonghwa himself had encouraged you to take a break from your intellectual expeditions and step into the world as a casual observer. So, you let yourself drift; it finally hit you, what scenes your once again tranquil stroll reminded you of, and you smiled to yourself as you recalled the intricacies of the not quite commonly discussed representation of the Impressionist movement.

‘Rue de Paris, temps de pluie’, painted by Gustave Caillebotte; his most famous work. Not quite as widely discussed, despite still technically being created in the Impressionist era, perhaps due to the meandering through form, realism and reliance on stronger lines rather than broad brushstrokes and the study of light. You did find it fascinating how Caillebotte’s passion for photography had seeped into this piece, however. Much like how, in recent days, you could easily find a way to mention Seonghwa in conversation, be it related to the arts or not. From the subjects in the foreground being slightly out of focus while the middle ground was crystal clear, to how the shapes of some passersby were cropped were all characteristic of photos, rather than paintings, making this particular work all the more dear to you. It was a reflection of life, of behaviour and of what had been daily back in the late nineteenth century.

Was it any different from now, aside from those grand, global topics that historians dedicated their lives to studying? If one were to whittle down to the intricacies, the miniatures that ornamented the span of a human existence, was it so terribly far away from what you were born into, and Seonghwa saw develop and had adopted? How people shielded themselves from the rain with umbrellas, and then used them as a tool to isolate themselves from other urbanites who were in a rush to take a day-long route out of their homes… and back again. The latest silhouettes of dress and accessory; the same rush to be with the times as now.

You felt your companion’s arm move, prompting you to let go and leave your hand hovering as though you were awaiting some kind of change. You bit back an unprecedented sliver of disappointment, only to be caught by surprise once again as you felt the hand settle on the small of your back. Cautious, like you were going to melt from any more pressure than the brush of a feather. A quick glance was enough to determine that you were being studied intently for any sign of discomfort - Seonghwa was ready to pull away at any moment, any sigh, and most definitely at any word. A meek smile settled on your lips, and you shyly used an oncoming stranger as an opportunity to affirm the gesture, stepping towards the vampire, and sensing the confidence of his protective measure be solidified. With glee he followed your every tilt and turn, angling away from the passing form that neither of you could focus on. The touch was electric, somehow monumental despite being so common and barely present. Your mind was on fire, pondering what it would be like to put your head on the elegant man’s shoulder, and let yourself be carried away into a terrific fairy tale.

“This really is a rainy day,”

“Seems quite sunny to me,” you respond with sarcasm, realising only after the fact that your phrase still did retain an element of truth within it.

Sunshine did not have to be literal. It was easy to see, you just needed to return Seonghwa’s gaze, and watch as another spring flower blossomed in the soul of one you had initially assumed to be so cold, so distant. In the darkest winter was a safe haven that you could not help but lean into, and regardless of what you had initially thought, with him, you felt more human, more safe and alive than ever. He listened without fail to your ramblings, and could easily pick up the ball and balance it with his own musings that you could listen to for many lifetimes.

Lifetimes; immortality, the one concept you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. Well, the latter was technically not true, as Seonghwa had elaborated some few days ago: vampires did age, albeit at such a slow pace that to the run of the mill human being, it was impossible to notice, and if they did, it would be someone very close, and only over a matter of decades. Maybe it was this exact inability that made you want to stay and learn all there could be about the gallerist - you thought that would make you feel like you have been living forever. His wisdom was beautiful. The kindness with which he treated you, akin to that of how a spouse treats their long-time sweetheart with a mellow and comfortable affection, was not something you asked for nor expected, but something which he introduced himself with through every action, progressively more amiable when you allowed him to advance.

“Mm, no wonder I can’t quite look at you,” he mused out loud, dramatically looking off into the distance. You raised an eyebrow, curious about what was going to come after his theatrical pause, “your brightness is unparalleled,” Seonghwa chuckled, satisfied with your sigh and the way in which you pretended to be annoyed, only to dissolve in a mute giggle. “So, I do suggest we get out of the rain for a moment and stop by that book shop over there, shall we?”

Following his hand, you spotted an antique bookshop a few doors down, marked by an iron sign and ornate shop window decorations that glistened with each hit of the dancing droplets. A warm golden light emanated from the inside, the hue comparable to a summer’s day. An odd feeling of deja vu washed over you, as though you had been in this store before, even though this was quite the distance away from your home, not on any of your usual commutes and in a part of town you barely visited aside from the occasional brisk walk. It had been established over a century ago, sporting a historical plaque and detailing original to the era the date on the sign suggested. Suppressing your internal monologue, you simply nodded, fond of Seonghwa’s excitement as he pushed lightly against your back and walked on ahead. If you were any more of a romantic, you would have assumed that the shop was a representation of his heart, but you couldn’t allow yourself to think that way, at least not when you felt heat rise to your cheeks as he whispered your name, openly planning what you could look for amidst the rare editions together. You and him turned into a ‘we’ so naturally, you barely had time to blink. A new brushstroke on a canvas, brave, bold and bright. Impressionist.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

The hypnotising improvisation on a semi-acoustic guitar, followed by a launch back into the theme of a well-known jazz song had you tapping on the counter, unknowingly following every drum beat. The bar turned cosy music venue that Seonghwa had invited you out to was proving to be every bit a wonder of the world, and paradise inside of the otherwise gloomy city which had been plagued with miserable weather and lack of daylight for atrociously long. The classy establishment was a well known favourite among the vampires residing in the city, especially those aligned with a more bohemian and art-focused lifestyle. Critics, painters, collectors, musicians, poets alike all gathered to share ideas and energy, and reminisce days long gone, while the band - one that had not changed since the bar’s establishment, revived legendary pieces one after another.

With ease, Seonghwa had ordered your favourite drink, having memorised it after your many outings that had smoothly transitioned into dates and shared nights. He remembered every detail about you, holding each one tenderness. Your lover gazed at you as he ended a conversation with a fellow collector who had recently come to town for a few days, stretching out his hand until it just touched yours, guiding it to lie flat on the counter. Seonghwa’s palm, still retaining a pleasant coolness despite him having had a couple of drinks of his own, was another reassurance that in the buzz of the venue, you still had your person by your side. Feeling his digits tap and then proceed to brush the back of your hand, you hummed in contentment, and let your eyes travel over the beautiful vampire, who leaned back, tempting you just for fun, knowing full well that you were wholly his, and even when you turned to look elsewhere, it was his face you saw in the crowd, it was his voice that rang in your ears, it was his touch that ghosted over your skin.

The bustier from Alexander McQueen, the gorgeous flowy shirt with ruffles and cuts so tastefully sewn and executed, the statement necklace that was worthy of being displayed at a gallery and must be the envy of many, the high heeled boots that were concealed by elegant trousers - Seonghwa was your favourite work of art, and you could never deny it. Each one of his gestures was worthy of marvel, and the care with which he approached everything - even the tending to the items which he painstakingly selected and matched for tonight made your heart skip a beat. It was boggling how each garment and accessory was either an original, or a one of a kind piece. But at the same time, you did not expect anything less of Seonghwa.

He must be impossible to depict in paintings, you concluded, shamelessly staring at your lover’s face, from the shape of his nose, to the plushness of his lips, to the waviness of his night-like inky locks. You bet many had tried, but judging by the lacking evidence in the art world, they must have failed, miserably, to create something more immortal and invincible than the model and muse. You understood them, and Seonghwa gave no signs of being perturbed.

“So, was that the intent behind our spontaneous trip to this bar tonight?” you gestured at your surroundings, taking another sip from your ornate glass. A sharp exhale accompanied a contrasting soft answer:

“Not at all,I had the business sorted a couple of days ago, and tonight was a lucky crossing of paths to secure the deal,” cryptic as ever, Seonghwa only alluded to the matter at hand.

The matter, or how he had referred to it as ‘business’ was a particular artwork that he had been hunting, by the elusive artist you had been investigating, first in your lonesome, and then joining forces with Seonghwa. Apparently, one of the pieces, by some stroke of unimaginable luck, had been kept safe in the private collection of a ‘Mister Kim’, at least that was how he had been initially introduced to you. Until you put two and two together, and when the very well dressed and styled character had entered the bar and made a beeline towards your partner in artistic musings and romance, recognised the man as a world-famous designer and fashion icon, Kim Hongjoong. And of course, another vampire and kind soul in one.

Their conversation had happened outside of your earshot; whether it was on purpose or just so happened to unfold that way was for your ruminations to determine, but you did overhear enough to figure out that this was a portrait, a never seen work, and was completed by the artist who as it had turned out had been closer with Seonghwa than you had initially thought.

“Seems to be very important, and not just in a ‘collector’ sense…” you trailed off, watching as the ice in your drink cracked, “is this why you were interested, you know, back then?”

“If I were to be honest, darling, I was, and still am, a lot more interested in you. The artist was something of an excuse to get a conversation going. And I do hope,” Seonghwa turned and sauntered towards you, “this conversation does not end.”

Even though you were sitting on one of the bar stools, the heels and stance still left him some room to look downwards, and his sultry expression, orbs glinting at you through dark lashes left you transfixed. In moments such as this, you hated to be mortal. There were so many things that you could not possibly know, and no matter how hard you would try to comprehend the vastness of the angelic man’s mind, you would always remain theoretical, and accept the grand majority of intricacies as axiom.

“I hope so too,” your voice barely rose above a whisper as his gloved hand landed on your neck, gliding upwards to caress your jawline.

“I’m so glad I found you,” his thoughts were elsewhere, you were sure of it, and yet, his gaze remained unwavering, “my eternal love”. Lips stained with bittersweet worship, the words stumbled from them to strike you repeatedly in the heart, forcing it to lose its rhythm. He was regarding you like he had stumbled upon a priceless treasure, a divinity, a paradise. Something far from you and from this planet, but by Seonghwa’s careful selection, etched in your features.

Were you the embodiment of something greater for him? You would not consider yourself to be a model example of a human being, neither were you a pretty statue to display in an exhibition. You were you, but Seonghwa kept on convincing you that it was exactly this that had captivated him and showed him a new beginning. Did you wish to believe that? Of course. But a vampire who was hundreds of years old could keep a grand variety of secrets beyond your understanding, even if he were to exclaim them right in front of you and sketch them out. His eternal love - your version of eternity, or his? A life the duration of a butterfly’s abstract dance to the heavens.

“Love?” he called out to you, eyebrows knitted in concern due to your prolonged silence. You had set your drink down, and were staring at the shine of the glossy chrome silver and pearl on Seonghwa’s necklace. “Talk to me, say anything.”

“I- hm. I think I am just tired. Yeah, that must be it. Tired so I am overthinking, no worries. I’ll just be right here and-”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you tilted your head, noting how Seonghwa immediately straightened out, and instead of attempting to tower over you stepped over to the side to set a protective hand over yours.

“This is a majority vampire bar, full of unfamiliar individuals, this whole deal with the artwork is up in the air and-”

“First of all, I don’t care. Second, you are here with me. And third, I want to trust in the fact that you would not do anything foolish nor harmful. Am I right in my evaluation?” you uttered, still not quite able to look into Seonghwa’s infinite pools of brilliant sienna and dark brown.

“I- I am honoured, but that still does not detract from the fact that we can go get some air and come back. Shall we?”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to. Hell, need to. Let us have a quick wander?”

“...I’d like that.”

In no time, the winter air hit your cheeks and you were wrapping yourself as tightly as you could in your oversized coat. In your ears the pleasant sound of the vampire’s heels rang out, echoed by the stunning road onto which you were spat out by the heavy black front door of the bar. Warm-toned streetlights liberally decorated the sidewalks and painted the night in honey, gold and copper accents. Reflections of an artificial summer in the puddles and winter chill. Downright magical. Seonghwa seeked out your hand, holding it tight and guiding it into the pocket of his own coat, smirking when you raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing at all.”

You were certain that you were walking through a landscape painting, every element captured by your vision falling into its rightful place, harmonising with the rest. The mumbling and music was long gone, only to be replaced by conversation of other late city explorers and the occasional rumbling of a car lazily rolling past.

“Pissarro.”

“Hm?” Seonghwa kept looking ahead, but squeezed your hand to ask for you to continue.

“Boulevard Montmartre at Night. Painted in 1897, no?” you pointed at the surroundings with a tilt of the chin.

“Ah, indeed! Your perceptiveness never ceases to amaze me.”

“Well, thanks to you I got to see the original, so how could I not make the visual analogy?” you nudged his shoulder, earning a chuckle.

The painting was the only example of a landscape at night from the artist Camille Pissarro, making it all the more special despite it being part of a series of 14 views of the same location. Snow, rain, fog, morning, varying seasons, but only one glimmering night. It was one of the works that Seonghwa had managed to provide for your studies, resulting in a more than impressive academic outcome. Like Pissarro kept on painting the vista, your lover kept on giving, never asking for anything more than for you to share your hours with him, something you did not need to be prompted to do anyways.

“...I’m sorry I cannot reveal more than I do, at least not just yet,” he apologised, as though what he was committing was the greatest crime known to humanity and the supernatural.

As you looked up at the starry night sky, you swore you had heard these words before, uttered by the same voice, the same fingers interlocked with yours. A stabbing sensation in your cranium made you gasp, but you regained your composure quickly enough to not make it a priority for either of you. At the same time, Seonghwa’s expression altered to a semblance of… hope? Longing? You could not pinpoint it, but one of the many glowing dots above you clearly landed in his shining orbs, and he eagerly waited.

Waited for longer than you could realise in your present state.

On their own accord, your lips moved, forcing out a subconscious acknowledgement, previously suppressed. You swore the phrase belonged to another being, but it was as refreshing as the breeze tousling Seonghwa’s locks.

“I know. I can wait too.”

“Soon, my love.”

“I-I know.”

“I miss you.”

“I-” vision growing hazy, you reached to the vampire for support, which he readily provided, “I- too.”

One blink - oil paints decorated your hands, and those alluring eyes were staring back at you from a canvas. Another blink - Seonghwa was repeating your name, pressing his cheek against yours as he shielded you from falling into darkness with his strong arms.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Your office was inviting and offered a secure haven: a collection of neutral and wooden tones, with dashes of greenery to relax the eyes. From a potted ivy plant settled on the top of a large wall-length shelving unit to an indoor palm tree enjoying the rays in its designated corner, the room was a miniature paradise. You ran your hands over the thick birch desk, cautiously avoiding the stack of documents you had arranged for yourself to go through this day. Artwork restoration reports, contracts, exhibition plans for years to come… everything you thought you would never see, and yet it was right here in your palms.

Time moved slower, or at least that was how you began to perceive it now that it was in abundance. A fountain that did not cease to bestow gifts upon you - again, something you would have never imagined prior to the curious series of events that were your previous life unfolding the way they did. One fateful meeting, and you were a changed person, staring into the horizon and labelling it as a continuation rather than as a termination of all you could achieve. The world was your oyster, and loving dedication was the price. But when the price was so sweet, and so easy, who were you to say no? If you had to pick a concern, it would be the bandages and binding on your right arm; friction from the sleeve of the turtleneck and blazer you had worn today applying uncomfortable pressure to the delicate wound concealed within.

You stood up from the leatherbound office chair, adjusting your clothes and stepping to the window behind you to look out at the garden belonging to the gallery - a recent expansion. Grand, regal, and as the papers had emphasised, now returned to its rightful owner. You wondered just how much of the city had belonged to vampires at least for a portion of time, and you had no doubt that you would be making more discoveries soon, but for the time being, you were happy with the re-acquisition, or as Seonghwa had called it: your ‘turning’ gift. A particularly strong shift of the arm made you wince, and your other hand shot to nurse your sore arm.

“I’m so sorry darling, does it still hurt?” Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had slipped into the office, and immediately rushed towards you, concern painting his beautiful face through furrowed brows and a tiny scowl.

“N-no, barely. The sweater is silly-”

“Let’s not disregard ailments, shall we?” your partner gingerly lifted your arm, and after gaining permission through a few lethargic nods, pushed the sleeve upwards to reveal the bandages, “I- really, we need to apply the ointment again, that must be it-”

“Seonghwa-”

“Work can wait, I just need to-”

“My love-” Seonghwa paused his ramblings to stare back at you, puzzled, “it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Literally just a bite, isn’t it?” you smiled, the action instantly being mirrored, albeit with a tinge of remaining worry.

“Mm, perhaps I am overreacting, I can’t help it,” your thoughts were numbed by the silken touch of his lips on the back of your hand, wool against cotton as he pulled you into an embrace, “it should heal well once you get used to your new form, I am sure of it,” his tresses tickled your nose, but you ignored it, instead letting your head fall against him.

You stood almost completely still aside from the rocking side to side that was habitual for you both. A lulling motion, one that either of you revealed only to each other. A secret reserved for intimate, loving moments such as this. You shook your head in amusement and buried your nose in Seonghwa’s sweater, inhaling the aroma of his sweet perfume, recalling ‘Love and Pain’ - the painting that had marked the tightening of the invisible string tying you together. Or was it? Coincidentally, on the wall behind your lover was the real inception of your union, one that you had forgotten from one lifetime to the next. A portrait. The one that Seonghwa had been chasing, and what had been his decades-long mission came to an end.

Signed with your own hand, were initials of your name and the year of completion of the painting. None other than the beloved collector and muse, Park Seonghwa, who had posed for you, or rather a version of you, and ever since then, you were the only one on his mind. You had been the master both of the arts and of his fate.

“Please, I am embarrassed…” your partner mumbled, settling for futile attempts to position you in such a way that you would be looking out at the garden, but to no avail. Poking him playfully at the side, you induce a halt, and question him:

“What is there to be embarrassed about? That’s you. Painted by me.”

“Exactly. And you have it in your office, of all places.”

“Well I can’t exactly have you, in the flesh, on display all the time and I would like a work of art around here-”

“Shh-”

“Don’t shush me, Park. Be grateful I don’t keep the sketches out too.”

In all honesty, He would not mind if you did. You could do anything, and the vampire would adore and honour it. Whether it was in your blood or in his nature, he had never regretted almost losing himself in your favour. In your last life, he had gone against all rules set up by vampires, playing against what he swore was the devil in order to have the sliver of a chance to start again and, this time not lose you. Had his plan not succeeded, it was highly probable that he would have been erased from this planet too. But he would rather call himself a masochist than be law-abiding when it came to you.

“Next, you’ll be threatening me with a showcase of just my face-”

“What if I do?” you quipped, pulling back to boop his nose with yours, “I think it would look very pretty. Besides, now that I remember my apparent mastery of the visual arts, can’t I be a tiny bit proud, hm?”

“I would be terribly disappointed if you weren’t. Now, may I put that ointment on you?”

As if you could refuse those sparkling eyes. Promptly following him to the loveseat, which unfortunately for Seonghwa was situated right under the portrait, you sat down and waited. Your partner rushed to the medical cupboard - another new addition installed exclusively to support you as you were getting used to the vampiric nuances in your day to day. With well-practised motions, the required kit was in his hands, and in a blink, set down on the plush cushioning of the miniature sofa. You held back a chuckle as you saw the pout you so loved appear as he focused on unwinding the bandage with utmost care. Before you could feel any hurt, Seonghwa would already let go, or alter the angle at which he was tugging on the material. As soon as the plaster was peeled, you were met with the reason for your eternity and reawakening.

Two deep punctures, still a little irritated, not quite healed, but nevertheless a marking of your future and something you regarded with fondness. Wounds did not hurt when they were merely physical, especially not when you had someone who had bound their immortality to yours to tend to them. Seonghwa bit his lower lip, discontented with the ache as though he could feel it too, and took numerous pauses while cleaning up the wound to glance at you.

“I’ll be applying the ointment now, tell me if it stings, okay?”

“Okay,” you knew it wouldn’t. You had never heard a man be so adamant on checking ingredients at an apothecary before following Seonghwa after your first appointment as a vampire. But just to appease him, you followed this small spoken routine.

“You know… I was scared,” his voice was barely audible, and he could not look at you.

“What were you scared of?”

“Losing you again.”

“Well, I am here, aren’t I?”

Even before you were aware of Seonghwa, let alone the truth behind the portrait, all the roads still led to the same resolution. The arts, art history. Virtually synonymous, for without creation, there would not be the past, and without the study of the past, there would not be the celebration and respect of creation. Finally, you understood the beauty of evolution that Seonghwa had undergone all while remaining the same vulnerable yet legendary figure, dedicated to his vision of the arts, having recollected your own.

“So many things could have gone wrong,” Seonghwa’s mind was reeling from the sheer terror of possibility. He had taken advantage of his high social standing as an aristocrat and pulled rank to avoid waiting for any ritual guides to step in - it was not the first time, but still only the second. And both cases were related to you.

The first time might have been a foolish decision in retrospect, but considering the dire circumstances the extreme solution was the only one. With one foot crossing to the afterlife he was combatting the reapers, and was not going to let go of you even if it meant being pulled in. This time, when you had approached him a number of nights ago with your final agreement to his tentative proposal and kissed his ruminations away, he was ready. Years of study were not going to waste, after all. And yet when he studied the same irises as those from a time long gone, when he held the same hands, his blood ran even colder. What a gambling man he had been back then. The procedure to regift life to you had been risky, and Seonghwa, having never practised those elements of the dark arts bestowed upon his kind, had been taking shot after shot in the dark. How dare he play with your being like that? How dare he hold your existence on a sinful scale?

“But they didn’t.”

No they did not. Your confidence in him had aided considerably, he had to admit. The positioning of his fangs was perfect, and he had memorised all incantations down to the inflections. Second time a charm, but much more anxiety-inducing. Turning was not the same as revival, either. He could not stop himself from imagining the many scenarios of where he would have gone wrong, and cemented your identity only as a name on manuscripts, dissertation, paintings and reports.

“Even the ritual, what if you did not remember-”

“I would love you just the same. Whether I had all my memories or not. That much I can assure you of. That is why I trusted you in the first place, Seonghwa.”

You did not need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. All you could do was suggest a brighter palette, and be by his side no matter what colour scheme he were to decide on. It was an artist’s duty to know when to set the tools aside and consider a painting finished. The luxury of a collector was to live through many paintings, unify the souls contained in each and sustain a chronology of expression. The keepers, the scholars, made to observe change rather than induce it directly. This was why you were all the more grateful for Seonghwa daring to change your mortal fate not once but twice, risking himself and his image in your favour.

When your partner was satisfied with his medical care, he hummed to notify you and began to clear up, at least until you placed a weak hand on his leather-clad thigh to gain his full attention. He searched for a hint in your features, eyes darting across your face at lightning speed. Relief came when you grinned brightly, whispering sincere gratitude.

Impressionism - the movement and path made by legends. A rejection of traditional practice, a new vision and interpretation of the outside world in the hues of the soul. Light, reality, immediate action. A breath that reset the arts, magnificent and radical for the time, and now, much adored. From its conception to its establishment, you were there to witness and fall in love, and now could look back at the beauty that had bloomed. His irises, your favourite colour. The speckles of various shades, your favourite details. You stared into Seonghwa’s eyes and did not dare blink. Your favourite impression.

🩸 perma-taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy

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thatgirlonstage · 7 months

Text

Okay I’m too tired to keep listening to Dark Heir but I’ve got a whole bus ride home so I’m going to spin Black Butler thoughts at you all.

(Idk how coherent this is, I’m sorry if it’s rambly my brain is SO dead but it wants to Talk so)

I’m thinking about… the gradual build of Sebastian’s fear that he could actually lose Ciel, as we go:

The asthma attack in Circus Arc: not ultimately serious, but a danger to Ciel’s wellbeing Sebastian had not been aware of and cannot easily fix

The fight on the Campania, where Sebastian is very seriously injured himself, to the point where he’s in danger of losing Ciel to Undertaker because he can’t physically stop him from being taken,

Which leads into THIS fucking moment in school arc:

which is entirely fueled by Sebastian’s fear that Undertaker will snatch Ciel out from under him, AGAIN, because he did it before

AND THEN GREEN WITCH ARC HAPPENS, where Sebastian gets within literal minutes of losing Ciel to the gas, and WOULD HAVE if Sieglinde hadn’t been there or hadn’t been willing to help them

And still in Green Witch Arc, even AFTER Ciel has physically survived, Sebastian nearly loses him anyway because he backslides so dramatically into a PTSD episode that it nearly voids their contract

All of which is why by the time you get to the Blue Cult Arc, Sebastian is so genuinely afraid he might not be able to protect Ciel that the scent of blood from a single needle prick makes him do. This.

And now, with bizarre dolls getting ever more advanced and better at hiding from Sebastian’s senses and the whole police force mobilized against them, I’m very ready for Sebastian in Brighton to be doing everything short of wrapping Ciel in 19th century bubble wrap. I’ll frankly be shocked if he lets Ciel out of his sight for more than five minutes.

But the thing is. The thing is. Narratively, there isn’t much further you can ratchet up the stakes for Sebastian (at least until you get to the moment of truth with the contract and eating his soul, which is a different conversation). Ciel being put in danger or hurt again isn’t going to do all that much to alter their relationship at this point. Sebastian is already about as whipped as the poor guy can get.

What would be a change, is Ciel nearly losing Sebastian.

There’s been—for obvious reasons—much less risk and fear on that front. There has been some build for it:

Red Butler Arc, encountering reapers, Ciel sees Sebastian fight an enemy who can actually hold their own against him for the first time (and while I don’t think this is confirmed, I suspect Grell’s chainsaw eating his shoulder is the first time Ciel sees him get injured for real (as opposed to allowing himself to get shot and playing dead just for the sake of being a dramatic bitch))

Curry Arc, Agni successfully fights Sebastian to a tie (which is why I’m VERY interested to see if Soma turns back up in the Brighton arc as well, feat. angry Kali powers)

[The murder arc is a fake out, because Ciel knows he’s fine the whole time]

On the Campania, Ciel sees him get very badly injured. This is the one and only time Ciel has real cause to fear for Sebastian’s safety, as such.

And since then, while Sebastian isn’t quite untouchable, he hasn’t really suffered any serious injury or physical danger to himself. There have been defeats or fights that didn’t end perfectly for him—such as the school arc fight—but Sebastian hasn’t been existentially threatened. Ciel, I think, still has pretty high confidence that worst case scenario, Sebastian can always just pick him up and make a run for it (indeed, part of the reason things got so bad on the Campania was because they were trapped on a boat). And even if Sebastian couldn’t save him, Ciel—to the extent it’s even occurred to him—doesn’t have a lot of reason to think he couldn’t save himself.

This is now the second time Ciel has lost everything—his title, his name, his home, his safety, his dignity and respect. The first time was worse, obviously, but he’s got to be feeling the similarities.

The first time, Sebastian pulled him out of his despair by offering him the power to escape.

Now, the second time, he at least still has Sebastian by his side. A Sebastian who is going to be laser-focused on protecting Ciel from all possible threats.

But what happens if Ciel thinks he might lose Sebastian too?

#black butler #sebaciel #black butler meta #god I’m so ready for Brighton to be UNHINGED

700 notes · View notes

aifanfictions · 7 months

Note

Write a story about (y/n) being the Phantomhive maid who helps Ciel and Sebastian with their cases and after going to the undertaker for information, Undertaker starts to slowly fall in love with (y/n)

Whims of the Reaper

In the grand halls of the Phantomhive Manor, (Y/N) continued her diligent work as the ever-graceful maid of the distinguished household. Each day, the bond with Ciel and Sebastian grew stronger, and her efficiency in managing the grand estate reached new heights. But, little did she know, the eccentric storm was brewing, ready to unravel the calm of her structured life.

The peculiar tale began on a foggy evening when a case took Ciel Phantomhive, the young Earl, and his loyal demon butler, Sebastian, to the Funeral Parlor run by the enigmatic Undertaker. The mortician had an unyielding fascination with death, and his macabre sense of humor was as peculiar as his profession. As they stepped into the dimly lit parlor, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a shiver down her spine. The Undertaker's peculiar aura was impossible to ignore.

Undertaker emerged from the shadows with a dramatic flair, a morbid chuckle escaping his lips. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, gleamed with twisted interest as he welcomed his guests. "Ah, young Phantomhive and Sebastian! What brings you to my humble establishment today?"

With an air of mystery and mischief, Ciel explained the nature of their case, and Undertaker was immediately engrossed. His odd commentary, a unique blend of the morbid and the surreal, left (Y/N) both intrigued and baffled. Her wide eyes darted from Undertaker to her young master and his butler, trying to make sense of it all.

As the conversation continued, Undertaker's fascination with their case was overshadowed by his growing intrigue in the unassuming Phantomhive maid. (Y/N) stood near the door, her presence both calm and bewitched by the eccentricities she was witnessing.

Undertaker couldn't help but be drawn to her. There was something about the way she furrowed her brow at his oddities, her innocence contrasting his morbid world. He longed to unravel the mysteries of her heart just as he did with the souls that came into his care.

When the business was concluded, Ciel and Sebastian prepared to leave. Undertaker's eyes, however, were no longer on the Phantomhive Earl but on the Phantomhive maid who stood near the door.

Approaching (Y/N), he leaned closer, his breath chillingly cool on her ear. "You, my dear, are not like the others who grace my parlor. You see, I find your innocence utterly captivating."

(Y/N) blinked in surprise, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Thank you, sir, but I must be going now."

Undertaker's laughter danced with an eerie melody. "Oh, my dear, I hope to see more of you in the future. There is something truly delightful about your presence amidst all this death."

As (Y/N) stepped out of the Funeral Parlor, she couldn't shake the feeling that Undertaker was unlike anyone she'd ever met. His eccentricity and morbid fascination were a stark contrast to the life she led at the Phantomhive Manor. Yet, there was a curiosity in her heart, a yearning to understand the mysteries that lay beneath his peculiar exterior.

Unbeknownst to (Y/N), Undertaker's interest in her had awakened a dormant side of his own heart. His fascination for death and the unknown was slowly eclipsed by a desire to understand the living, to grasp the complexities of human emotion, and to delve into the enchanting depths of (Y/N)'s soul.

As the days passed, (Y/N)'s encounters with Undertaker became more frequent. His visits to the Phantomhive Manor, each more eccentric than the last, would soon become a peculiar routine. His fondness for tea parties, during which he regaled (Y/N) with tales of the dearly departed, gradually transformed into moments of lighthearted banter and shared laughter.

The Phantomhive household watched with varying degrees of amusement and concern as Undertaker, the eccentric mortician, attempted to court the Phantomhive maid with a perplexing mix of macabre curiosity and eccentric charm. While Ciel and Sebastian were ever watchful of the maid's safety, they couldn't deny the curious bond that seemed to be forming.

Undertaker's heart, hidden beneath layers of eccentricity and morbidity, began to beat in a way it hadn't for centuries. And for (Y/N), the journey was equally baffling and captivating, as she found herself inexplicably drawn to the reaper whose world was as mysterious as the afterlife itself.

Each tea party with Undertaker brought new tales, bizarre stories that ranged from tragic to utterly absurd. They reveled in laughter, the distinct camaraderie growing between the reaper and the maid, both trapped in a dance of eccentricity that only they could understand.

Yet, there was something that Undertaker couldn't quite put into words. A feeling that defied logic, a longing that went beyond the realm of morbid fascination. He found himself entranced by the way (Y/N) would touch her fingers to her lips when she was lost in thought, or the way her eyes sparkled with innocence when she found his bizarre tales amusing.

His attraction to her was a complex tapestry of desire and intrigue, woven with the threads of both life and death. He couldn't help but wonder what it was about her that had captured his reaper's heart.

(Y/N) too found herself intrigued by the peculiar reaper. She had never met anyone like Undertaker, whose eccentricity was a stark contrast to the rigid world she had known. His stories, while bizarre, held a unique charm, and she couldn't help but feel a strange fondness for the mortician who found delight in death.

Yet, as Undertaker slowly unraveled the enigma that was (Y/N), he couldn't help but wonder if there was room in his heart for a love that was as unconventional as he was. As the days turned into weeks, his courtship of the Phantomhive maid took on a new dimension, a blend of eccentricity and longing that defied the boundaries of life and death.

As the eccentric reaper and the charming maid embarked on this peculiar journey of affection, the Phantomhive Manor witnessed the unfolding of a love story unlike any other. The grand halls that once echoed with secrets were now filled with the whimsical laughter of a reaper who danced with the living and a maid who dared to uncover the mysteries of the afterlife.

And so, amidst the eccentricity and the enigma, Undertaker and (Y/N) were drawn into a love that was as peculiar as it was profound. It was a tale of fascination, an eccentric affection that challenged the conventional understanding of love, and it would continue to unfold with each bizarre tea party and every morbidly delightful encounter.

In the grand halls of the Phantomhive Manor, where secrets and enigmas abounded, the most unconventional love story was in the making, and it would continue to unravel with each tea party, every eccentric tale, and every moment of laughter that defied the boundaries of life and death.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

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irides-solstice · 2 months

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˗ˏˋ☁️‧ ₊ ˚ 🦋 ‧ ₊ ♡ˎˊ˗

{Headcannons for an upcoming au i'm planning} Not enough people talk about Claude after he loses Ciel Phantomhive's soul to Sebastian... Especially not ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ!ᴄʟᴀᴜᴅᴇ... ໒꒰ྀི ˃ ∩∩ ˂ ꒱ྀི১

{Wolf spider!Claude X moth!reader}

🕸 ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ!ᴄʟᴀᴜᴅᴇ who goes back to his claimed territory, sulking the whole way after his loss. Because for the first time in a million years H̷̬͖̻͒e̷̢̝̫͖̯̍̇̀͊ ̷̬̻́l̴͖̹̅͋ọ̴̈́s̶͇̬͔̆̈́̚͝ẗ̴̪́̎̃̿ ̴̢̧͚̜̊͠ḩ̴̛͍̰̳̂̄͐i̷̠͇̥̹̓͆́̊s̶͎͍̘͊͑̐̽ ̵̗̆̌́̿̍p̵̦͎̥̟͔̈́̾ṙ̸̺̼̉ī̶̭̻͇͉̕z̴̥̠̙̳̅̃̒e̷̹͙͋ This loss is not easy pill to swallow when he's the one, who's infamously known as the calmest and composed in any given scenario. He finds himself losing his cool. His anger, and rage causing continuous damage both around his and others territory.

🕸 ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ!ᴄʟᴀᴜᴅᴇ and his presumptuous nature, overconfident and eccentric behaviour being the reason behind his biggest failure, that too to a younger demon! - A massive blow to his ego... Sebastian absolutely getting the upper hand on him once he loses his poise. A more established and esteemed demon losing in such a manor would absolutely make him a laughingstock among the inhabitants of hell... And it does. That too because of a human soul's aroma? Preposterous! Claude is absolutely seething in solitude. So, he makes up for his loss of reputation by unleashing absolute chaos onto whoever dares to even snicker at him.

The aroma of Ciel Phantomhive's soul... An aroma he had yet to ever encounter on his own adventures... Truly a noteworthy meal. He'd even applaud Sebastian if he wasn't kitten licking his bruised ego.

So, you can see why he's so perplexed when he senses the same fragrance back in hell... On a demon too... A pretty one, one lesser in status than him, but makes up with her resourcefulness. The unique skull like birthmark on your forehead, just above your adorable doe eyes, and the quiet buzzing of your wings makes him shudder in excitement. Ideas of you writhing underneath him... In his arms, as he makes you his own... Hmm exciting, no? So, like the opportunistic hunter he is, eager to win your affections he revels in the idea of a chase. Especially after one as mesmerising as you are ♡

🕸 ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ!ᴄʟᴀᴜᴅᴇ who searches high and low for you, but is stumped to see you are nowhere to be found... Where he wants you to be. Only for you to walk right into the palm of his hand. Clueless as to who even has his eyes on you. You, the runt of the litter just trying to find a place to settle, and you strut right into his lair for a measly amount of nectar and honey. Once he gets his hands on you however...He will never ever let you leave his sight. You're his whether you like it or not~

"There's no use in trying to run little one, you're mine now~"

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @thefallofruins ╰➤ {ᴍᴇꜱꜱᴀɢᴇ, ᴏʀ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɴᴏᴛɪꜰɪᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ}

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icantdothistodaybruh · 2 months

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oh, are you familiar with the BoM side story? where arthur dreams of different characters in different fairy tales? i’ve become so! obsessed! with the snow queen versions of sebaciel. ciels outfit is so pretty on him!! but i love a ciel that left everything behind to stay with sebastian.. and sebastian, he’s been so lonely for so long that when he gets a pretty boy he can’t let him go. when someone tries to save him they not only get a “no” but get forcefully snow-blasted right out the door. they understand each other because no one sees the beauty in desolation like they do… so of course they stay isolated in a castle together.

there’s the panel where sebastian’s wrapping his coat around ciels whole body… sebastian acting so smugly to ciels rescuers… the line where ciel says he belongs to the devil… i could live here forever… please consider this cold angle of sebaciel

I AM! AND IT'S ONE OF MY FAVE EXTRAS OUT THERE!!

The implication that the whole dream was of Sebastian's doing (which he is very capable of judging by GWA) brings out such an interesting twist to it - we can see a glimpse of Sebastian's actual opinion on other characters! But I'm of course going to talk a little about Ciel solely for today hehe

I might be wrong since I only have ru and eng translation at hand, but the way Ciel talks about his heart being frozen and eye belonging to the devil makes me think of these acts as essentially same thing, especially given that he "adapted beautifully to the world of Ice" by Sebastian's words. I mean that his heart being frozen doesn't equal to death or inability to feel, but rather just that, adaptation and belonging.

Now I know it sounded far-fetched, but the reason It caught my attention in the first place was the mentioning of the heart at all. It's a dream made by Sebastian, the 'emotionless' and 'unfeeling' demon, with clear analogy to the contract built on power, revenge, and hunger for one's soul, or at least that is how it always was portrayed before. So why would his made up dream-Ciel suddenly bring a heart into equation?

You should've seen my face when I got to the chapter were Elizabeth escapes to rCiel. Call me delulu but it suddenly made so much sense when Sebastian started talking how "human hearts are mysterious, complex things" and "no matter if you are demon or god it is truly and utterly impossible to shackle another's heart." Before that I wouldn't even think he'd have any opinion on the matters of the heart, let alone it be a stated fact to him that he can't have it in a way he can own souls or bodies.

And so that man, in his made up dream, with a made up Ciel, made that Ciel say that not only his soul (eye) belongs to the devil, but heart too. Knowing for a fact it can't belong to him in reality. I'm speechless.

Also when I got your ask yesterday I thought I should make a fanart or a redraw of that scene, and once again, you should've seen my face when I found the page:

and if you don't know why I was so surprised I'll gladly explain with two more pics:

My head exploded.

Three pieces. Representing their change of masks and roles. Yet each is the same in it's core. And one of them is character's fantasy while other two his reality. I'm so done with this show.

...could it be that Arthur's dream made by Sebastian is yet another lie becoming truth?...

#thank you for coming to my ted talk #sorry if it doesn't make sense I did my best #Writing such long posts is kinda new to me so for all the errors that are bound to be present sorry again #English isn't my first language be nice to me🥲#sebaciel #kuroshitsuji #black butler #ciel phantomhive #sebastian michaelis #text

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eemoo1o · 2 years

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Okay the only thing that’s really kept me going in s2 is Claudebastian, and it’s become better than what it had been starting out, but by god episode nine took the cake.

#fucking awesome #still convinced that all of this with ciel’s soul is to get sebastian’s attention though #i mean did you see the way claude wiggled his glasses #claude faustus #claudebastian #sebastian x claude #claude x sebastian #sebastian michaelis #black butler ii #kuroshitsuji ii #ciel phantomhive #s2e9 #the season got better in the sense that it should have been like this all the way through

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cosmiclion · 10 months

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"Dadbastian makes no sense and it's delusional because Sebastian's a demon who just wants to eat Ciel's soul and views humans in general as livestock!" People in real life can and often do find cows/pigs/chickens/etc cute while still being meat eaters. Meat farmers often care a lot about their animals and even are affectionate towards them. I myself raise insects as feeders for my frogs and said insects are my precious adorable babies and I give them the best life untill the end. These concepts can perfectly coexist. Also you're mean and I don't like you.

#not eli's art #eli rambles #kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebastian michaelis #dadbastian #mombastian #ciel phantomhive #our ciel #ociel #o!ciel #no fun allowed i guess #also this isn't an invitation to argue about meat consumption and the meat industry #keep me out of that discourse lmao #not yoi

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blues824 · 1 year

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I need a Male! Reader x Yandere! Vincent, Claude, Sebastian, Undertaker, Lau, and Madam Red in my life! It’d interesting if M!reader were to be extremely cool-headed and always in a dream-like state but aware of what is happening around them and is incredibly smart. They appear sleepy but really aren’t it’s just their usual face. And they’re soul is one in a million that could keep a demon full for years. So to the characters M!reader appears as otherworldly and they are intrigued…

I love Yandere requests for some reason.

Vincent Phantomhive

Poor dear was fearful that you would fall asleep at any point, so it is better to have you next to him at all times. But, he wouldn’t be surprised if you were always sleepwalking, because you lived as though you were in a dream. Well, he may as well be your knight in shining armor, as he needed to protect you.

You could see what he was doing. Ever since he first invited you back to the Phantomhive manor, ever since he offered you that cup of tea. You wanted to wake up, you wanted to fight back, but the poison kept you from doing it. And besides, it would be a far call to say that the Vincent Phantomhive was poisoning you. Even though you were angry, you knew you had to be reasonable. This was your fate now.

Sebastian Michaelis

He had met you when he was going to pick up the young master’s new cane. You were a 19-year-old apprentice, who didn’t seem to have his head back on Earth. The demon breathed in and your soul just smelled so sweet. It was calling to him, to his hunger. Suddenly, Ciel Phantomhive did not have the most craved soul. So, a few days later, he wrote to your master that you were called for by Lord Phantomhive himself, but it was actually him who wanted you there.

As smart as you typically were, you did not see this coming until it was too late. He held you in his arms within the library while the master was busy with his work, and Mey-Rin, Finney, and Bard were all doing their chores. He whispered that you were his and his alone, and you then realized that your mind was steadily growing more and more cloudy.

Claude Faustus

He typically wouldn’t care about just any human being unless their soul called out to him. But, when he saw you in the bookstore, your mind somewhere in some distant land rather than the present, he could hear your soul. It smelled sweet, and fulfilling, and he could sense that there were other demons around waiting to collect it.

He invited you to the Trancy Manor, where he locked you in a room that was isolated so that no one would be able to hear you. He made sure that the other servants were aware that he was the only one who would tend to that side of the house, and because of his status within the household, he was never questioned. Now, without him by you during the day, you spent your days trying to escape all the while acting as though your head was up in the clouds when he checked up on you.

Lau

You were one of Ciel’s servants, and you caught his attention with how you seemed to be living within a dream. You were operating on autopilot, but you were doing exceptionally well. It was because of you being a tiny bit of a distraction to the man that he was not paying attention to the plan that Sebastian had laid out.

The next day, you had found yourself in his opium den. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Ran-Mao had kidnapped you in the night and brought you to where you were now. You were bound in chains, and led up to Lau, where he had you placed upon his lap. You seemed to be a bit too aware, maybe you just needed to go to sleep. It’s unfortunate that you ended up in an opium den of all places.

Undertaker

You had entered his shop by mistake, and he was surprised because he was not expecting any visitors, dead or alive, that day. It caused you both to laugh, and he had you sit down for a bit of tea before you made your way back. He could sense your soul, and he was aware that he wanted it just for himself. After about the third cup of tea that he prepared for you, you finally sensed that it was a bit suspicious. Of course, you were slowly getting sleepy.

In the morning, you found yourself sleeping in a coffin. You were tied up, but it was open. The Undertaker heard you struggling against the bindings, and he let out a bit of a giggle before peering over the opening of the coffin. You weren’t really listening to what he was saying, but you caught something about your soul, and you being the first to make him laugh genuinely with nothing required in return.

Madam Red

You were a servant from the Phantomhive Manor, and when she went to discuss with her nephew about the plans to catch Jack the Ripper, you had caught her attention. She made a comment about how her butler could learn from both you and Sebastian. However, Grelle could see the look of love in her eyes, and she knew her next orders.

The following day, you found yourself locked within a room in Madame Red’s estate. Eventually, the lady had entered the room, specifically the bedroom, where you were staying in. She greeted you with a hello darling before moving on to prepare for the night. You saw the instruments she was using, but you remember hearing her tell Grelle that there was a target that night. You let out a gasp, and you started trying to escape only to be held back by Madam Red herself. She used one of the many syringes full of something with anesthetic properties that put you back to sleep.

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wonderer399 · 18 days

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Sebastian : Why he is Perfect for Ciel

Ever since I was in the black butler back in 2015, I was like 17 years old...I was obsessed with BB...I shipped Sebaxciel very hard, I still do and will continue to do it and none of your petty 'anti' opinions will make me change my mind like ever. You are free to judge me and I will judge you 'anti' back as well...You guys think that you are being 'self righteous' ? Tbh in reality you guys exactly sound like 'Alicent Hightower' from 'House of the Dragon' after she was living her miserable life with her 3 annoying kids and had to stick her nose into Rhaenera's bussiness because her 'morals' goes against what Rhaenera was doing....Therefore, stop being annoying and you guys better keep your own opinion to yourselves...I'm 25 now...and I will still ship SebaXciel..until my last breath...I may start the fandom very late , however I have more sense and adulting going on my brain to judge what is 'right' and what is 'wrong'...and what should be kept in the 'greyzone'

I have always defended Sebastian, still do and will always be defending him because he deserves it. Sebastian and Ciel both NEED each other. You guys might think Sebastian NEEDS ciel more...its the other way around ..CIEL NEEDS SEBASTIAN and without Sebastian HE CAN NOT SURVIVE A DAY WITHOUT BEING KIDNAPPED!!!!! OR WORSE BEING KILLED!!!! SEBASTIAN IS CIEL'S LIFE SUPPORT!!!

Sebastian keeps to be surprisingly being 'Kind' towards 'Ciel' by every chapter and each chapter their bond becomes stronger than ever, mostly because due to Agni's influence. And I remember exactly Ciel saying that 'If my soul He wants, then I will make sure to get my revenge properly'...Ciel KNOWS what did he sign up for with sebastian !!! CIEL MAY LOOK LIKE A CHILD ...BUT MENTALLY HE CAN SELL ADULTS IN THE BLACK MARKETS 10 TIMES WITHOUT ANY HESITATION THOSE WHO ARE AGAINST HIM ....He is that cunning!!! We have seen Ciel's Kind side as well...Ciel and Sebastian both knows when and to whom to be 'cunning' or 'Kind'...Both Sebastian and Ciel are Extremely Extremely cunning and will and does 'BEND' the rules of the game at their own advantage through their extremely calculated and refined dirty tricks and schemes ....Playing fair is not their 'concern' ... but 'winning' is ....if Ciel is the 'King' in the Chessplayer, Sebastian is the Ultimate Cheat code and Chessboard in the game ....and pawns are the other characters ....Sebastian can't be the pawn ...Sebastian simply sets up the helpful environment for Ciel to win...Sebastian simply assists Ciel in his own game ....

Sebastian is the STRICTEST, SMARTEST, GENTLEST and NICEST ( may not be the kindest ...but he is still trying his best ...he gives me more like 'TOUGH LOVE' vibes your asian households will give off ) guy to be able pull up with all of Ciel's bratty tantrums .... ( if you even dare to give off the same exact attitude to your parents as Ciel does to sebby time to time....In the white household you won't be affected that much but in the black/latina/asian household, parents will start beating with flipflops no more attitudes.... compared to that Ciel is in 'heaven' as Sebby keeps tolerating ) Sebastian STAYS with Ciel through thick and thin ...Sebby never EVER abondons Ciel ( I don't count filler episodes of season 1 because its not Cannon ) ....Sebby is not that kind of 'mannerless' character who would force himself into 'Ciel's' arm ..sebby HIGHLY VALUES MANNERS,GRACEFULNESS and AESTHETICS...Sebby knows his self worth... we even see sebby getting 'blushed' cheeked whenever ciel compliments him for his good work and that what motivates sebby to stay with ciel through their journey together...they both appriciate, tolerate, they get and understand each other and the same time they are very fond of each other as well...

In the emerald witch arc, it is very evident that when sebby saw ciel was at his worst state ...sebby gone mad and destroyed the entire german military single handedly...ciel is very PRECIOUS to him...once ciel realized how sad Sebby would have felt when he kept rejecting sebby touch...after waking up from psychic trauma, Ciel immidiately compansated sebby with constantly 'touching' sebby 'affectionately' ...its like the two lovers being aparted for wayy too long and when they meet again, they can't let go of each other that easily...their bond just keeps getting stronger...and yall antis be burning lol ...because we shippers got the latest TEA DATE in the chapter 212 !! in the victorian era it was not 'acceptable' to sit 'butlers' and 'noble man' together ...let alone sipping tea and flirting with each other...its so sad that you guys don't like something that's fine! ...but don't dictate us and don't rubb your moral dicks into our faces ...keep it in your pockets

SEBA X CIEL IS THE GREATEST UNCONDITIONAL LOVE SHIP EVER!!! THIS IS THE PUREST FORM OF LOVE !!! SEBBY LOVES CIEL FOR HIS SOUL POTENTIAL REGARDLESS OF HIS GENDER OR HIS AGE!! SEBBY IS WILLING TO WAIT FOREVER AS LONG AS IT TAKES FOR CIEL TO TAKE HIS REVENGE!!! SEBBY RESPONDED TO CIEL'S CALLING IN THE 1ST PLACE !!

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis #proship #sebaciel #yaoi bl

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anonymousewrites · 10 months

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One Hell of a Love (Book 1) Chapter One

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter One: One Hell of a Reunion

Summary: Sebastian comes across someone he hadn't seen in centuries.

“Remind me again why we’re at some silly Baroness’s funeral?” muttered Ciel tersely once they finally made it to the reception.

“Young Master, the Baroness Alma Ellington was a contributor to Funtom enterprises for many years,” said Sebastian. “It couldn’t go said by the nobility that the Phantomhives didn’t attend the funeral of such a generous woman.” He smirked.

Ciel tsked. “At least it’s almost over.”

“Yes, Young Ma—” Sebastian straightened, and his eyes narrowed.

Ciel looked up at his butler. Clearly, something was wrong. “What is it, Sebastian?”

“There’s another demon here,” said Sebastian quietly, gazing around the room.

“Another demon?” Ciel furrowed his brow. He’d never encountered another demon or had seen Sebastian around another of his kind.

“Yes.” Sebastian’s eyes were dark. “We’ll excuse ourselves as soon as acceptable.”

“What, you’re not popular with others of your kind?” Ciel smirked, eager to tease Sebastian.

His butler merely smiled. “We are solitary creatures, Young Master. It is not in our nature to remain close. Besides, we’re not fond of one another, even in our best moments.”

Ciel looked around the room, trying to determine who the demon could be, but with only Sebastian to go on, he wasn’t sure who to look at. He sighed in annoyance at not getting a choice to see Sebastian out of his element. “Very well. Let’s excuse ourselves.”

Sebastian bowed slightly. “We’ll let the maid in charge know we are departing.”

The pair crossed to the entrance of the reception hall where the maid was taking the cards left to the heir of the estate with condolences. They nodded smoothly with a gracious smile as each person left. As Ciel and Sebastian approached, though, Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. This was the demon he had sensed.

“Young Master, this is it,” murmured Sebastian, slowly drifting closer to Ciel in case the demon tried to grab for his soul.

“The—?” asked Ciel.

Sebastian nodded darkly. “Yes.” He gazed at the demon as they thanked the latest couple for attending before turning to Ciel and Sebastian.

Their eyes met.

Sebastian’s brow furrowed, and the other demon’s did the same. They both regarded each other with a bit of…familiarity. Ciel looked between them cautiously.

“Oh,” said the newer demon, straightening.

“Ah,” said Sebastian, his dark expression relaxing.

Ciel deadpanned, and an irk mark appeared on his forehead. “Would you care to explain what I’m missing, Sebastian?”

“I know them, my Lord,” said Sebastian. His eyes passed over the demon again, as did theirs, as they both gauged the latest appearance the other took on.

“I thought you said you didn’t like others of your kind,” said Ciel.

“They are the only tolerable being of my kind,” replied Sebastian with a nod to the maid.

The demon smiled. “Why, thank you. I think the same of you.”

“I am superior to most,” said Sebastian with a smirk.

“And being tolerable made you drop your guard? Sorry excuse…” muttered Ciel, unimpressed with Sebastian’s pride.

“They are the only demon that has any…slight honor, Young Master,” said Sebastian. “They will not try anything against me.”

“And I just finished a…job contract, so I’m well fed,” said the demon with a catlike smirk.

“Ah, the Baroness?” asked Sebastian.

The demon smiled sharply. “She needed a little help with her husband.”

“Ah, yes, the one who died in the unfortunate accident,” said Sebastian with a sly smirk.

“Actually, he had been about to gamble away the fortune he’d gotten when marrying the dearly departed Baroness. She got quite lucky, in a way,” said the demon, smirking.

“Ah, indeed,” said Sebastian with a knowing look.

“And this is your latest contract?” asked the demon, smiling at Ciel.

“Earl Phantomhive,” said Ciel curtly.

“Please to meet you, my Lord,” said the demon with a nod. They understood why their fellow had taken him as a contract. His soul radiated purity. However, they had just fed and had no need for another soul for a long time, plus this was their old acquaintance making the contract, they couldn’t interrupt that.

“I assume you’ll be looking for new employment, then?” questioned Sebastian.

“Yes, just tying up some ends here and there,” said the demon. “Though I am not hungry and am loath to return…home, so who knows what I will do.”

Sebastian was silent for a moment before looking at Ciel. “My Lord, I believe the manor is in need of further staffing.”

“Isn’t four enough with you there?” questioned Ciel, raising an eyebrow.

“Unfortunately, my colleagues are less than adequate at times,” said Sebastian.

“Are you suggesting I offer another of your kind a job?” asked Ciel. He wasn’t sure whether to think Sebastian was losing his mind after being so territorial or to actually take him seriously.

“There is very little good help these days,” lamented Sebastian. Plus, he trusted this one to the extent demons could trust one another. They were fed and had proven time and time again to respect his status as a demon, so he had no reason to worry after them stealing his soul. (And it had been a while since they had seen one another, not that it played into Sebastian’s decision making. That would be flawed reasoning for a butler such as him).

Ciel shrugged. “What the hell? I already have one of you.”

The demon brightened. “This does seem like a fun way to pass the time.”

Ciel nearly deadpanned again. And I thought Sebastian was strange.

The demon turned to Sebastian and held out their gloved hand to shake. “I look forward to working with you again, Mr…?”

“My master calls me ‘Sebastian,’ ” said Sebastian, shaking their hand.

“Sebastian…” repeated the demon thoughtfully. Their nose twitched, catlike. “There have been worse.”

Sebastian scoffed quietly. “And you?”

“The Baroness called me ‘(Y/N) Noir.’ I believe I will continue to use the name,” said (Y/N). They took a step back and smiled. “Now, Sebastian, my Lord, I must finish my service to the Baroness. I will head to your estate within a day.” (Y/N) bowed to Ciel, nodded to Sebastian, and turned to the other guests.

“Sebastian,” said Ciel as they left the reception hall.

“My Lord?” asked Sebastian.

“How do you know this demon?” asked Ciel.

“My Lord, if you are wondering about their ability, they are capable and, even if not trustworthy since they are one of my kind, reliable,” said Sebastian. He gave a small false smile. “If you are concerned for your safety or your revenge, there is no reason. (Y/N)—” He let the new name roll of his tongue “—will assist with our endeavors. Of course, that is until they take their own contract, but then they will merely part ways with us.”

Ciel gave a look at Sebastian. “If I wanted references, I would have asked for them. I asked you how you know them. Don’t evade my questions.”

“Very well, my Lord,” said Sebastian, giving a slight bow before guiding Ciel into the carriage and sitting across from him. “I taught (Y/N).”

Ciel raised an eyebrow. “Taught them? Demons teach one another?”

“Occasionally, yes,” said Sebastian. He smirked. “I taught (Y/N) well, and so they give me…more respect than demons typically give one another. None of our encounters have ever been uncivil.”

“That explains why they acted like you, charming everyone and being the perfect servant,” muttered Ciel. “Are you two the same type of demon or something?”

“No, Young Master,” said Sebastian. He smirked. “I am a raven. They are a cat. We are completely different.”

Ciel groaned. “Of course, they’re a cat. You love cats.”

“I can assure you, Young Master, I adore cats, but my feelings towards (Y/N) are very different,” said Sebastian.

However, with Ciel’s order to never lie to him, Sebastian found himself speaking in quite the roundabout fashion.

Sebastian opened the door and smiled pleasantly as he found (Y/N), maid outfit pressed carefully, standing beside a single bag outfit the doors of the Phantomhive Estate.

“Right on schedule,” said Sebastian. “An excellent start to the job.”

(Y/N) had a catlike smile as they looked back at him, still as fresh and unafraid as they had been a millennia ago. “I was taught to be perfect at any job I took.” A mischievous light glinted in their eyes. “And I don’t fail my teacher.”

“No, you do not,” said Sebastian with a smirk. He lifted (Y/N)’s bag. “Come, I’ll escort you to your quarters. Then, I shall show you what it means to be a Phantomhive servant.”

(Y/N) nodded as they walked through the silent halls to the servant’s quarters.

“This will be your room,” said Sebastian, opening the door and placing the luggage on the bed.

(Y/N) looked around and nodded. “Very well.”

Sebastian brandished a maid’s uniform from behind him, pulling it from nowhere with the skills only a demon could possess. “This will be your new uniform for the Phantomhive Estate. As you have gotten used to performing as a maid for the Baroness, I assume you will continue such a role. If not, I will have a manservant’s uniform prepared momentarily.”

“The maid uniform will do,” said (Y/N), smiling and taking it.

Sebastian nodded and stepped back out the door. “I will give you a moment to change.”

“Thank you,” said (Y/N). They glanced up at Sebastian as he closed the door. “And Sebastian…”

He looked at them, and their eyes, sharp with the eyeliner creating a catlike shape, met his.

“It’s good to see you. It’s been far too long.” A smile appeared on (Y/N)’s lips as the door closed.

Sebastian sighed. A little too bright for a demon. He supposed it took all types. Although, of course, he had put up with them for so long. He supposed it wasn’t too bad.

And they were right. It had been far too long.

Not that he’d noticed it.

Not at all.

Taglist:

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@izzieg3987

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@alexpangender

#one hell of a love #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #x nb reader #nb reader #black butler x reader #black butler fic #black butler ciel #black butler sebastian #black butler #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji #sebastian x reader #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian x demon!reader #demon reader #demon!reader

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animeyanderelover · 2 months

Text

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, stalking, overprotective behavior, manipulation, isolation, abduction, death

Tags: @lovley-valentine7 @leveyani @chxxz

Serial Killer s/o

Sebastian Michaelis

🐈‍⬛Ciel has been called into active duty by the Queen due to a series of incidents that have been going on for a few months now where different murder happened. The victims have all been nobility and all of them were murdered in open space by a shot through the head. A sniper of extraordinary talent must have done all of it, someone who almost rivals Mey-Rin in skills in that from what Sebastian has been able to detect by examining the corpse. All of this must stop at once and Ciel decides to lure the serial killer out as he is within their target group as he challenges them via newspaper. He leaves his mansion, accompanied by Sebastian, in hopes of them taking the bait yet nothing seems to happen. Instead another two victims are killed and Sebastian muses that the killer must have been smart enough to realise that Ciel had something planned, although he doesn't mention it when he sees his young master silently seething, humiliated that he was ignored.

🐈‍⬛Sebastian himself feels quite indifferent about the whole ordeal. Humans have always killed each other as they are feeble and incompetent creatures. He only is doing his work because of the contract he has with Ciel. His feelings change significantly when one night the sniper decides to target Ciel at night in his own mansion and it is Sebastian's inhuman senses that save Ciel that night as he races through the corridors to stop the bullet from hitting its target. Ciel, despite having just woken up, instantly analyses the situation and orders Sebastian to go after them. A small devilish smile, a polite bow and in the next moment the butler is gone. He is shot a few times but senses soon that the killer has realised that bullets don't work on him and has opted to flee instead. As if that would work. Whether they survive or not is of no concern, especially not for him. At least until he closes in on them and is suddenly surrounded by the sweetest scent he has ever taken in.

🐈‍⬛The scent throws him out of composure, something you instantly notice as you shoot one more time, this time in his face. In that moment where his senses are overwhelmed, it catches him off-guard as he falls over. You naively assume that you killed him finally as you flee but not even seconds later you are grabbed and pinned to the ground, the same man you just shot in the face looking down at you with glowing eyes and not a single imperfection on his skin. You look at him in disbelief and horror whilst Sebastian takes away the rifle you tightly clutch in your hands, throwing the weapon carelessly away as his eyes never leave yours. He feels shivers going up and down his spine as he feels your racing heartbeat, his body pressing itself closer to you to relish in your warmth and the shape of your own body against his. One of his gloved hands caresses your face, magenta eyes engraving your facial features into every layer of his mind and soul. His mate. You are his mate.

🐈‍⬛Ciel has made him promise to never lie to him and to obey his every demand yet for the first time Sebastian goes against the contract as he refuses to hand you over to the police. He doesn't expect a human, even if this human is his current master, to understand just how rare and significant a mating bond is to a demon like him. Ciel is quite shocked to see his servant acting like this as he has never been attached to anyone before yet here he is, holding the culprit and pressing them against his body like they are his saving line. You yourself look confused and scared all at the same time as you try to squirm away from the demon's hold. Yet Ciel has no choice ultimately as he has to cover the story up and Sebastian participates as Ciel allows him to do whatever he wants with you. You may be terrified now, kitten, but fear not. Your days of living in poverty and killing to steal and survive are over. You just have to give yourself to him.

William T. Spears

📒His work schedule has recently increased by a lot as an arsonist has recently started inflicting terror onto the public of London. Almost a dozen of houses have been burnt with victims either dead or wounded, especially at night. Police security has tightened and whilst the incidents have decreased a bit, they still happen in different areas of the town. It is so much work for him and he silently wishes the culprit to accidentally burn themselves at one point, especially when he sees all the name who will be made victims in the future. Whilst William doesn't see it as his job to catch the arsonist himself, he decides to still take a look and find out who is behind all of this. He searches for one of the next victims who will die and then waits for the culprit to show up. Eventually he catches you sneaking up on the house, a weird device in your hand that you throw into one of the windows, shattering it in the process. There is commotion inside the house before an explosion occurs and in the next moment the house is burning.

📒He has never seen this before and decides to follow you as he sees you disappearing into the shadows and streets of the city. You live in a house on the outskirts on the city, a scrapyard not far away from you. So this is where the troublemaker lives. Now that he knows where you live, William just opts on following you from that moment on whenever you go out to commit the next crime. He notices that you often bring with you a small device that he can't identify yet it seems to be the main reason why the house bursts into flames in the first place. He knows that you spend a lot of time rummaging through the scrapyard, probably searching for suitable parts to build this bomb. As much as you give him trouble, a part of the grim reaper is impressed that you can build something like this from garbage. One day when you are out of your house, he can't help his curiosity as he takes a look inside your house. He has never met a person who has such a messy house yet such a clean workspace.

📒You are terrified when you return but find the entire house cleaned somehow yet soon you figure out that nothing has been stolen. It has just been cleaned... Believe him, William wasn't anticipating to suddenly play the cleaner for you but he just could not help himself. He just had to tidy up your place because god knows how you manage to survive in there. Maybe, just maybe he was mildly concerned for your wellbeing as you clearly don't care for hygiene or basic order in your daily life unless it involves work. At least you are passionate about your work as you have made detailed plans on the constructions on those bombs. William has made a theory that you are a rejected engineer and scientist who is trying to accomplish the creation no one believed you could finish. Perhaps your low status plays another part yet instead of dejection you seem to be even more determined. A part of him respects it but not only do you risk getting caught but you put your work over your own health often.

📒His fears soon turn into reality when you are spotted by the police when lighting up another house. You flee through all the side streets but soon meet a dead end. Behind you, you hear the cops coming closer yet before they arrive, a figure suddenly appears behind you. A man in a neat suit and glasses who swiftly knocks you out. The last thing you recognise is the feeling of being lifted up before your consciousness fades away. That sudden abduction unlocks a completely new life for you. William absolutely forbids you from building a bomb in the house he purchased weeks before he abducted you as he had plans long before you had to be so careless. You may still read books about the topic but you will not create something that will ruin the house. As he knows that you are not the best when it comes to leading a good life besides when it involves work, he also takes over your schedule completely. The house is kept clean, you receive nutritious and healthy food and he makes sure that you get the needed amount of sleep every night.

Ash Landers

▫️The Queen has been receiving a lot of news from a new serial killer who has appeared in London yet this one seems to be a strange one. It has been reported that all of the victims have been known for treating spouses and childred badly, for abusing and for being con artists who deceived people of their hard earned money. A true criminal for justice by all accounts yet Ash, who is the one reviewing all of those reports and telling the Queen what to do, still views it all with disgust. There is no single good soul in this city after all and whilst he doesn't care about the scum who died because of the new serial killer, that won't save them from the judgement that he will cast on the city as soon as all of the needed preparations are completed. He has been plotting and planning for so long now, his goal is in sight already. Really, this silly human is just wasting their time. If they are trying to achieve a better world by killing of the other scum, it is for naught. Only a cleansing of the entire city will save it.

▫️Yet through a sheer twist of fate one day you pass him without any knowledge of how lunatic and inhuman he really is. It is nothing special for you as you are trailing someone who is your current target but Ash pauses on the busy streets, his head snapping around as his eyes drill into your form. What a beautiful presence... What a clean aura... He has never felt something like this before. Entranced the angel decides to follow you around as well, enraptured with such a clean and beautiful being as you are. What is someone like you doing between such a vulgar crowd? What if they defile you? Suddenly there is a pressure he is feeling, his eyes nervously darting around as he scans all the people who are around you. None of them could even compare to you so why do you go outside? Your presence can't save those sinners anymore. Oh, how benevolent you are for still gracing them with your presence despite their ignorance of your true greatness. You truly are too precious for this world.

▫️Then he sees it though. How you walk up to someone who has an especially rotten presence around them. A smile on your face as you talk with them and Ash feels his hands twitch as you touch them slightly. You shouldn't even breathe the same air as them. With slick words and touches, you manage to seduce them enough to have them follow you as you lure them away from the busy streets. Ash instantly goes after you two as all of his alarm bells go off. You mustn't be left alone in a stained presence such as theirs. They will ruin you. He follows you all the way, his hand already on the grip of his sword to behead them if they do anything to you yet there is no need for that as suddenly you pull out a knife and slit their throat in one swift motion. The body hits the ground as they spend a while choking on their own blood and looking at you in horror before all life leaves their eyes. You mutter a silent prayer as a ray of light hits you as you pray for their soul to eventually be redeemed after paying for their sins.

▫️That's when you notice Ash appearing around the corner and you are visibly startled as you lift your knife threateningly. Yet in his eyes you only see awe and admiration as he looks at the dead body and then you. He clasps his hands over his heart as a singsong of praise and worship leaves his lips. How truly kind of you to pray for their forgiveness despite their sins. How thoughtful of you to end their pathetic and miserable life. You truly are a pure and special human. You find yourself disturbed by his words to the point where you don't even attack. Something is terribly off about this guy. He begs you to allow him to protect you, to assist you in your task of ridding this town of all the people who have ruined it. You are helpless in the face of an actual angel, one who is smitten with you to the point of a deadly obsession and offers to kill for you so that you won't have to mingle with those who he deems to not be worthy of your time and presence as you spend your time forever trapped and isolated under his care.

Claude Faustus

🕷️Whilst his master can rest perfectly safe in the mansion, the town surrounding it is living in terror as recently a lot of people have mysteriously disappeared only to be found days later with stitches all over their bodies, their hearts always missing. Not that this concerns Alois much who is aware that no one can do this to him for he has Claude by his side. Claude himself is very much disinterested in all those incidents as he holds a general dislike for the common crowd with no splendid souls to sense anywhere. He plans to finish his contract with Alois to get his hands on the young boy's soul in order to consume it and after that he will vanish. Nothing about this village will be memorable to him as everyone is crude and forgettable. That is just how a demon lives as they are mostly very detached creatures who only cater to their own needs without consideration for those who do not know of their existence. One day he will probably make another contract with another person only to continue the cycle.

🕷️Then one day it happens though as he is in the town to buy some groceries for the next meal of his young highness. It truly isn't a special day but he can't remember that any day has ever been special ever since he became the butler of the Trancy boy. Yet it is on that day that he picks up a scent that has all of his senses and his head spinning as it invades his mind. Something primal awakes within him as he breathes in as much of the aroma as he can before his golden eyes start darting over all of the people around him as he needs to know the source of this scent. Eventually he locates the person the scent comes from, his eyes glued to your back as his legs start moving on their own accord. It's almost like the aroma has a gravity that pulls him to you and before he knows it, one of his gloved hands reaches out and grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. When you turn around and he sees your startled and confused face, he suddenly snaps out of his trance and swiftlx apologises to you. What just came over him?

🕷️Unable to forget about you, Claude spends days silently agonising over the distance as he hasn't seen you since that day. He doesn't want his master to find out as he knowd that Alois would throw a fit which is the last thing that he needs right now yet his temper is clearly more agitated. A lot of excuses are used to leave the mansion in hopes that he will find you again but there is no sight of you detected until eventually he decides to leave the mansion at night after Alois has fallen asleep. Hannah is ordered to take care of the boy if he should wake up whilst Claude leaves at night when most people are already asleep. Finally he can use all of his abilities without a time limit and indeed is he now able to track you down after a while. He easily breaks into your house, a prominent smell of blood in the air together with the sound of prayers in an ancient language coming from the basement of the house. It isn't your blood though which is why Claude isn't worried as he follows the stairs down.

🕷️He finds you in the middle of a ritual you are performing and it is then that he finally realises that you are the person who is responsible for all of the murders that have recently happened. He has seen those rituals before, they are generally used to summon his kind yet it is obvious to him that your soul is much more splended then the soul of the person you are offering. You aren't even aware of the worth of your own soul, are you? In either case, he can't have you summoning another demon who might make a contract with you. The candlelight suddenly vanishes as only darkness surrounds you and your heartbeat increases in fear and excitement. Maybe it has finally worked. Suddenly a hand clasps over your mouth and when you manage to look up, you see glowing eyes within the darkness who look at you with greed and desire. If your wish was to meet a real demon you shouldn't have gone through all of this trouble. You have one right next to you after all who doesn't want any of the sacrifices you have abducted and kiled. You are more than enough.

Hannah Annafellows

🟣Sometimes humans can be more savage and demonic than what people call her own kind at times. Hannah can confirm that once more when the newspaper starts reporting that a new serial killer has appeared in town who butchers their victims like some do animals. Heads, guts and limbs are found spread in the sewerage or are sometimes delivered directly to the house of neighbours or friends of the victim. Waves of horror and fear take hold of the citizens as the murder has taken nearly a dozen lives already and their kill count only increases as weeks pass by yet the police is unable to catch them. Hannah has only passive feelings about the whole case though as she doesn't have to care about what happens outside of the Trancy mansion. She has sworn loyalty to Alois despite not even having a contract with him and she spends her time fulfilling her tasks for him despite all of the abuse he puts her through. The life of other people are not important to her.

🟣She meets you in town during your workshift as you sell vegetables and fruits on the market. Hannah is immediately drawn to your soul and when she appears in front of you, you appear to be drawn to her too as her gorgeous looks take your breath away. You appear enraptured with her from the very first moment you meet her and Hannah uses that to her advantage a lot as she gets closer to you. She has pinpointed fairly quickly that her attraction and attachment she feels is because you are her mate as your soul calls out to her all of the time. She starts spending a lot more time with you as she isn't very much the center of attention to Alois who is mostly focused on Claude. Whilst she doesn't abandon the boy and still does her tasks dutifully, as soon as those are done she tells the triplets to take over everything else whilst she is heading out to meet with you again. She feels peace when she is with you yet she knows. You are hiding something.

🟣A stench of blood seems to surround you even if the scent is very subtle and a shadow is lying over your soul as if theire is guilt that is shackled to your very being. Your lips are sealed though as you only give her a misleading smile whenever she tries subtly to find out what it is that fills you with such guilt. That smile could fool everyone but Hannah isn't a human. There is a secret you keep from her, most likely because your shame is too much for you to tell others about it. Do you not trust her enough? You should be able to give your everything to her without any fear as you may not be aware of it yet but both of you are bound together by fate. Hannah decides to take matters into her own hands after a while of failing to convince you. That is how she catches you in the middle of another crime, an axe in your hand and your body covered in blood as you are in the middle of dismembering another person. You break out in tears when you see her as you didn't want her to know about this.

🟣It is a sick and perverse impulse that comes spontanously over you at times, a desire to dismember and murder someone. You don't know where it came from but the fascination has been always there even when you were only a child. You shudder to think what you will have to do with Hannah now that she has found out your secret but it never gets that far because you never get the chance to attack her. Instead her demonic powers overwhelm you instantly and the next time you wake up, you are stuck in a dark room, your hands tied up. Hannah still loves you despite finding out that you are the serial killer who has been butchering their victims but she expects some modesty from you. You should at least be able to control your twisted fantasies more instead of being a slave to them and fulfilling them without any self-control. As long as you haven't learned that though, she can't let you roam freely. You may think of her as a monster now but she only has the best in mind for you.

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere sebastian #yandere sebastian michaelis #yandere william #yandere william t. spears #yandere ash #yandere ash landers #yandere claude #yandere claude faustus #yandere hannah #yandere hannah annafellows

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