#Black Butler Exhibition Rich Black

[minakoooo]

[bihastuff]

Watching our ciel's dream from emerald witch arc and hearing real ciel voice makes me emotional 😭

[kuroshitsuji-igurisshu]

Illustration of Rich Black

𖤐Hello everyone Kuronians𖤐

Today I would like to tell you about the illustration Yanuzza did for the 15th anniversary of the series. The illustration in question was presented as the official visual of the Rich Black or the magnificent exhibition that perfectly summed up every facet of the work.Being a very complex illustration, that is probably why it was simplified in the G-fantasy magazine while still bringing the same atmosphere.In addition, the illustration we see in the magazine was the first idea she sketched, whereas, the Rich Black illustration she came up with by modifying the initial idea several times.

Dwelling on Rich Black's illustration, we are immediately catapulted into a gloomy and cold atmosphere, where the figures of birds flying away certainly do not help to make this illustration more welcoming.We can say that the scene takes place on a chessboard where we notice the two protagonists in the foreground. Sebastian, and especially 'Ciel', are wearing very peculiar clothes, so peculiar that our attention lingers only on them.

Apparently Sebastian's tailcoat looks like the usual garment he always wears, but when seen up close, one can see that behind the back it has a black lace embroidery depicting a horned skull crowned with beautiful lilies. Just above the swallowtails one can see another lace decoration containing two buttons.The trousers, seemingly innocuous, have a side band with lace encrustations forming the Roman characters XV or the number fifteen.

If Sebastian's look amazed you with its elegance, that of 'Ciel' is undoubtedly on another level. Starting from the jacket, you can see some very peculiar brooches, in fact each of them represents an arc from the manga. They are all placed on the jacket, except for one, namely the brooch that specularly represents two identical skulls. This brooch represents the Blue Memory arc and happens to be placed on the shoe. At first glance it might look like an anti-brother gesture, but in fact it is anything but, because in non-verbal communication it is the feet that are the most truthful body part. If we do not like someone unconsciously when they come towards us to talk to us we will not tilt our foot towards them, symbolising a kind of 'non-acceptance' rather we will turn away or something. Perhaps with this gesture Yanuzza wanted to emphasise the relationship he had, and has, with his brother, because despite everything he will always remain a part of him.As with the butler, we have the same skull motif with lace lilies on the jacket of the human puppy. The illustration, or rather, the clothes are so well-rendered and detailed that it is easy to get lost in the details, such as the dark train of 'Ciel' ending in skulls.

Nevertheless, this is not the real message of the illustration, because the interesting part is behind it. It will not be very easy to explain this also because the illustration is so complex that it is not really easy to see the pawns. Yes, the pawns. Behind Sebastian and 'Ciel' there are several white pawns, not random pawns, this because we saw them in Emerald Witch where Yanuzza associated the colour white with the enemy.

White pawns

Bishop = Joker

Knight = Undertaker

Pawn = Doll

Queen = Victory

In between Sebastian and 'Ciel' we can see a strange pawn, this because it is missing a piece. The pawn in question is actually that of Undertaker, the horse, whose head they 'decapitated'.On either side we can see the pawns associated with Joker and Ciel in a strange pairing... Joker is on 'Ciel's side, while Ciel on Sebastian's side. Indeed, our count has exterminated the Noah's Ark Circus and surely Joker (perhaps Polaris) will want revenge. As for Sebastian, well... he's the cause of Ciel's death and I don't think there's anything more to add. Behind the human cub is the queen's pawn, obviously associated with Victoria, but unlike the side pawns, it seems to be going the way of the horse, since it's in an unsteady position that suggests an imminent crash. Even its position does not seem coincidental, considering the great power Victoria has over 'Ciel'.

The scenario of this illustration almost seems to announce a battle, a battle that 'Ciel' will face head-on and with confidence given the way it is drawn. For the first time, we have a young man with his legs spread wide apart, in a commanding position of confidence, as if marking territory. Perhaps later Yanuzza will show us a new 'Ciel'? After all, he still has to take back his villa.

Even in this illustration we have two readings: the first is on the two protagonists who, with their peculiar clothing, not only distract us from everything else, but also bring attention to the essence of Kuroshitsuji, giving us a broad vision of the series.The same vision we had in Rich Black where each story arc had its own corner with exclusive panels, unpublished plates and more.The second reading is in the background and, unlike the first, here we do not have a focus on the series in general but on what could be a hypothetical future of the events of the manga.

If you are curious to see more of my posts, you can find me on IG as Kuroshitsuji_itaru 😈

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

Yana’s sketches are simply beautiful. Flawless. ( x )

[anewp0tat0]

Hello! I loved that Kuroshitsuji rich black art gif edit! And I was wondering that if you have the clean version of it in non animated HQ form?

I shall of course give credits if I use your edit 🙂!

hello! firstly, ty for the ask! secondly, I'm absolutely touched by this, it is very kind of you and it means a lot to me, so thank you~!!

thirdly, ah, I'm afraid your request may be a little complicated for my corn brain😳 apologies since I am unfamiliar with the term, but do you mean the individual HQ frames that make up the animation? whether I'm correct or not, you may dm me for any of this! unfortunately I'm afraid that other than that, I don't know many ways to share the gif in high quality(I shared it to myself as a video just to see, though I'm not sure if it's any better heh... I'm not great at this), but of course we may discuss it if you really wish.

I am very flattered, so thank you once more, you made my day!!

[kuroshitsuji-indonesia]

Black Butler Exhibition Rich Black in Tokyo.

Photo courtesy: kiri

[officialphantomhivehousehold]

"Black Butler Exhibition -Rich Black-“ has finally released the official visual for the event!

The beautiful illustration represents Sebastian and Ciel, dressed in costumes representing episodes in the story that has been culminated for 15 years!

Tokyo venue admission ticket

↓ ↓

https://www.mbs.jp/kuroshitsujiten/

©️Kuroshitsujiten

[chibimyumi]

The Black Butler Art Exhibition “ Rich Black”  to be opened in August 2021~!! (Japan only of course...)

@toboso_official I was commissioned to do the main visuals! Both Sebas and Ciel wear costumes with “ XV”  embedded. I’ve also gotten many other commissions, so stay tuned for following news😊 【Toboso】   #Kuroshitsuji

Kuroshitsuji Expo - Rich Black - Sorry for the long wait. We now publish Toboso Yana’s commissioned work, the main visual of “Kuroshitsuji Expo - Rich Black - ” This piece featuring Sebastian and Ciel donning costumes enchased with [the icons] Arcs within this work can truly be called a masterpiece of 15 years. #Kuroshitsuji Tokyo Expo Tickets  can be found here↓ sqex.to/kuroshitsujiten

【Original tweets】

[eirinthings]

BLACK BUTLER EXHIBITION [Rich Black]

Yana Toboso autographed illustration.

This is a gem only for the Kuroshitsuji exhibition, with autographs on the illustrations selected by Yana Toboso from the 15-year history of "Kuroshitsuji".

A part of the product line sold at the Kuroshitsuji Exhibition has been published on the official website.

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

The Demon’s food, the Boy’s pawn. ( X )

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

Sometimes, I wish I were in Japan right now.

Black Butler Exhibition - Rich Black (15 Anniversary)

Black Butler Exhibition - Rich Black - (Kuroshitsuji Exhibition)

at Tokyo, Osaka, Hyogo, Ishikawa in August 2021

Website: https://www.mbs.jp/kuroshitsujiten

[eunsoyi]

#1 + daichi? congrats on 100 followers btw!!

the next king

sawamura daichi was the nicknamed the strongest and the bravest knight in his country. even for his young age, he was admittedly better than his superiors. his talents are what caused him to climb up the ranks, but as his power and responsibility heightened, guilt was slowly swallowing him whole.

in a world where monarchy exists, wars were inevitable. as he was a soldier himself, it was his duty to protect the country he serves, no matter what it takes. the word ‘protect’ was highly ambiguous, though. does killing innocent people who are not the same race as him count as protecting? does ruining communities and bombing up places define as protecting? he did not become a knight for him to become a murderer.

thus, he retired. people looked at him weirdly, saying things like ‘it’s a waste’ or ‘you have so much more potential if you’re in the military’, but for daichi, living a peaceful life as a regular person was enough.

that peace was suddenly broken, though, when the palace suddenly issued an order to summon him. he was confused, of course, and all his possible wrongdoings suddenly flashed into his mind. he could disobey and not show up, but that would mean more trouble, so he did not have much of a choice.

he had been to the palace once or twice in his life during meetings. he didn’t get the chance to explore or meet other members of the royal family other than the king. thus, his reaction to the person who greeted him was justifiable.

“hey.” was all she said.

daichi blinked. he wasn’t dreaming, was he?

the girl was accompanied by at least ten maids and butlers. she was wearing a long, fancy dress, her hair was tied into a braided bun with a few strands falling on her face, her cheeks were rosy, and she radiated poise and perfection.

if not only for that dreaded, unprofessional ‘hey’.

“uh, hi?”

she giggled. “i’m not really into formalities. plus, we’re the same age.” she explained. she gestured for him to accompany her as she toured him around her majestic house. daichi inwardly groaned in jealousy. how he wished he was living the same luxury as she does.

daichi gave another glance at the girl walking beside him. she was no doubt the king’s youngest child, the only princess in the family. he wasn’t going to lie, she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, but that seemed obvious. after all, she is royalty.

she led him to her office and ushered him to sit down on one of the big chairs in front of her desk. “i’m so sorry i called you here on such short notice, but i need your help.”

“wait, you were the one who summoned me?” he asked. “uh.. y-your majesty?” he sat upright.

“pft, please, stop being so uptight. loosen up.” she chuckled. she fumbled with some of her folders. “yes, i really, really need your help.”

“for what?”

she hid behind her folders, blushing red. she mumbled something incoherent that daichi had to lean closer to hear her. “princess? i can’t hear-”

“i want you to teach me how to fight.” she finally said while her cheeks blushed redder, but she still avoided his eyes.

“why? you don’t have any reason to fight.” he frowned.

“this is so embarrassing.” she muttered to herself. she cleared her throat and gained her composure as she finally made eye-contact with him. “my brothers and i will be formally fighting in a brawl.”

“and?”

“you were the strongest knight my father ever had. and i wanna win! i wanna win so bad, i wanna crush their heads and finally beat them for good.” she said in a rather menacing tone, daichi swore her eyes started throwing daggers to the air. as if she has a switch, she was back to her usual, proper self and face him once more.

“so will you help me?”

isn’t this just a waste of time? daichi wanted to ask, but he agreed anyway. he didn’t have anything else better to do, after all.

the princess then went on to explain the reward for this job, and the perks that go along with it. he was given his own private quarters, breakfast, lunch, and dinner are all free, and he gets a hefty amount of gold once she wins the said brawl. not too shabby of a proposition.

the next few days were rather entertaining for daichi.

he never expected the princess to be so.. manly. she was already super strong to the point where daichi even wondered whether he was really needed, or was he just there to boost her ego. when he mentioned this to her, she gave him her tiger-like glare that made him flinch and basically growled, “i need to be better.” daichi backed away, holding his hands up in the air in a surrender position and let her do her thing.

they trained for days, weeks, months. he started to wonder when this said brawl would happen, but he did not question any further (he really didn’t want to see her annoyed face again, it almost scared him to death) until the princess finally announced the date of the fated day.

“i’m fighting them tomorrow.” she suddenly said, gulping down her water and wiped her mouth.

“oh.. kay.” he replied. “can i ask you something?”

“yeah, shoot.”

“why are you treating this wrestling match of yours as a big deal? i mean, it’s just a fight between siblings.” he asked. the princess tried to say something, but quickly closed her mouth when daichi interrupted her. “and no, i don’t want to hear your ‘i wanna win’ speech again. i need a valid reason.”

she pursed her lips and looked down.

daichi laughed nervously. “look if you don’t want to say it then it’s fine! i’m not forcing you-“

“this kingdom needs a leader.” she suddenly spoke, shushing daichi down. he did not reply, and waited for her to continue. “i’m the youngest child, and a girl. my future is basically my father marrying me off to someone rich and my ending would be that i’d be a mother of kids i don’t even love, and i would be inferior to my husband.”

“uh..” daichi tried to find the words to say, but failed horribly. she ignored him and continued to speak.

“to avoid that, i should be the queen. no, i’d be the king if i have to.” her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “in all honesty, i’m more qualified than my good-for-nothing brothers. all they know and prioritize are riches and women. the shallowest of them all.”

“what’s the fight got to do with this?” he asked.

“my father gave me a challenge. if i beat my brothers in a fight, i’d be the next in line for the throne, and they will be below me.”

the two of them stayed silent for a while. daichi understood where she was coming from, and he admired her determination. he inwardly sighed, thinking that this country really does need someone like her to lead, someone who’s strong and passionate, and someone who is aware of their own privileges and actually use them for the benefit of the people.

he let out a deep breath and faced her. he held out his hand, urging her to stand up. “come on. let’s train some more.” he smiled as she gripped his hand and pushed herself up. “let’s win this, your highness.”

the day of the fight finally came, and it was nothing like daichi has ever seen.

there were spectators above, watching and cheering for the brothers. he counted the princess’ supporters and was actually not surprised that she had very few. the king and his wife were seated at the very top, looking down on the arena.

he smirked. she was going to beat them all, and she was going to be the future king.

he crossed his arms as he leaned on one of the pillars on the side of the arena. he was nervous, but he was confident.

the princess was the strongest person he had ever met.

the siblings came out one by one, and the tension in the arena rose. she had three older brothers, so the matches were in a winner versus winner system, where they’d pair up and whoever wins will get to advance to the next round.

the eldest and the third oldest were to fight first. it was intense, even for a professional like daichi. they exhibited elite moves where they’d even beat the best knights and soldiers in the country with their technique. he started to sweat and wondered whether the princess would even succeed or not.

he shook his head. this wasn’t the time to doubt.

in the end, the eldest won the first match. the next match was hell for daichi. he really didn’t expect that the second oldest brother would go too hard on the princess.

she struggled as she tried to get even a few hits in. her brother laughed and yelled for the whole arena to hear, “aren’t you being too cocky, little sister?”

she fumed and charged straight at him, but she was immediately pinned down. daichi was at the edge now. he felt his heart beat way too quickly out of anxiety. her face was being pushed rather harshly into the sandy ground, she was basically eating dirt at this point while her brother endlessly jeered at her.

“you can do it! stand up!” daichi found himself yelling at the top of his lungs. the princess met his eyes, and her look changed. he finally saw the familiar tiger-like glance he had been seeing for months.

she pushed her brother away and stood up. the match continued on immediately. they exchanged punches and kicks that for a normal person, was way too rough to even bear.

the princess won the second match by a slim chance.

they weren’t given time to rest. the next battle started almost immediately after the jury announced her win. tension was at its peak, and daichi felt it crawl under his skin. she was fighting the crown prince, the supposed to be next ruler of the kingdom. if she beats him, the hierarchy within their family will shift.

the future of the whole country lies within this particular match, thus, pressure among the siblings and the spectators became too thick, it was almost suffocating.

daichi swore he almost blacked out as he watched the two siblings fight each other. the eldest son was strong indeed, to the point where daichi himself can’t even find the words to describe how much strength the crown prince has. but the princess has her own strength as well, and daichi silently prayed as she exhibited this rather well during the fight.

the princess found herself in difficult situations countless times during the long match.

in the end, she prevailed by finally getting in a hard punch on her brother’s face, which rendered him unconscious. shocked by her own strength, she met daichi’s eyes once again and smiled.

“you did it,” he mouthed. she didn’t wait for the official announcement to come out and ran up to daichi immediately.

“i won. i beat them. i actually won.” her eyes teared up.

“i’m so proud of you, your majesty.” daichi winked, and she punched his arm lightly in a joking manner.

“i owe you a lot, sawamura daichi.” she breathed out a sigh of relief.

“it’s nothing.”

“can i ask you another favor?” she said.

“what?”

“can you stay by my side? y’know, as i rule the country or whatever.” her lips pouted as she blushed pink, looking down on her feet.

“ruling the country isn’t whatever, princess.” he chuckled. “and you could’ve worded that better, considering you had elite education and all that. you’re not very eloquent, are you?”

she huffed and threatened to punch him again. god, he thought. maybe teaching her violence was a mistake.

“just answer the damn question.”

he laughed once more at her reaction and pat her head. he still couldn’t believe it. someone so small and proper like her beating two grown men (the third brother didn’t even get a chance) and ended up being the next king? it was almost like a miracle.

“alright. i look forward to working with you, your majesty.”

ok i finally finished this jesus christ. pls save me i wanna drop out of uni :)

[mishinashen]

The Kitchen Door by Frederick Frieseke, 1911

In the summer of 1906, Frederick Frieseke settled in Giverny where the landscape, sunshine and freedom to paint as he wanted inspired him to remain there for almost two decades. Led by French Impressionist Claude Monet, Giverny was an artist colony that had been favored by American artists including Theodore Butler, Willard Metcalf, Richard Miller, Theodore Robinson and Guy Rose. Notice of the group of American Impressionists appeared swiftly in the press. In October 1887, a critic for The Art Amateur suggested that the development of an Impressionist expatriate style was immediate and profound: "Quite an American colony has gathered, I am told, at Givernay [sic], seventy miles from Paris, on the Seine, the home of Claude Monet, including our Louis Ritter, W. L. Metcalf, Theodore Wendell [sic], John Breck, and Theodore Robinson of New York. A few pictures just received from these young men show that they have got the blue-green color of Monet's impressionism and 'got it bad.'" ("Boston Art and Artists," The Art Amateur, 17, no. 5, October 1887, p. 93, as quoted in R. H. Love, Theodore Earl Butler: Emergence from Monet's Shadow, Chicago, Illinois, 1985, p. 59) After arriving in Giverny, Frieseke lived in Theodore Robinson's former house, next door to Monet. The intricate and extravagant garden of the French Impressionist painter had a significant impact on Frieseke while his own house also had a "beautiful old garden, running riot with flowers, vines and trees." (W.H. Gerdts, Monet's Giverny: An Impressionist Colony, New York, 1993, p. 172) Frieseke's work in Giverny often incorporated his garden whether as seen through a window of an interior or as the backdrop for a model. "Frieseke's garden paintings reflect the simple, though hardly rustic, everyday life if relaxed enjoyment of sunshine and flowers and reading. Summertime leisure dress was the norm; for the models perhaps a kimono." (D. Sellin, "Frieseke in Le Pouldu and Giverny: The Black Gang and the Giverny Group" in Frederick Carl Frieseke: The Evolution of an American Impressionist, exhibition catalogue, Princeton, New Jersey, 2001, p. 88) Two dominant themes developed among the Americans in Giverny. As noted by Dr. William H. Gerdts, "they opted primarily for landscape work, while others who were more concerned with the figure, applied the strategies of Impressionism to the more traditionally acceptable themes of radiant children and ideal, even virginal young women, and eschewed the scenes of modern, usually urban life, found in the streets, theatres, and cafés, subjects preferred by many of the French figurative Impressionists." (American Impressionism: Masterworks from Public and Private Collections in the United States, Switzerland, 1990, p. 12) Frederick Frieseke focused on the latter, preferring "monumental images of women, single or in pairs, clothed or nude, and posed either in domestic interiors or in garden settings." (Monet's Giverny: An Impressionist Colony, New York, 1993, p. 172) In The Kitchen Door, a woman wearing a flowered kimono is enveloped in variegated flowers and vines as she steps out of the resplendent light into a darkened kitchen. Conveying a romantic parallel between the woman and flowers, Frieseke blends her into the background essentially placing a "flower" within the flowers. The artist noted, "My one idea is to reproduce flowers in sunlight. I do not suggest detail by form, [but use] strokes of color in oil to produce the effect of vibration, completing as I go...If you are looking at a mass of flowers in the sunlight out of doors you see a sparkle of spots of different colors--then paint them that way...Often one obtains accidental notes out of doors which really construct a picture...I usually make my first notes and impressions with dashes of tempera, then I paint over this with small strokes as I have to keep it as pure as possible or the effects of brilliancy will be lost." (C.T. MacChesney, "Frieseke Tells Some of the Secrets of His Art," New York Times, June 7, 1914 as quoted in Frederick Carl Frieseke: The Evolution of an American Impressionist, p. 88) The Kitchen Door is an example of Frieseke's balanced and symmetrical compositions, emphasized by the centered doorway. The flowers throughout the garden as well as on the woman's robe provide an opportunity for the artist to add pattern to the composition. Dr. Gerdts has noted that "it was Frieseke who introduced into the repertory of Giverny painting the concern for rich, decorative patterns, related to the art of Edouard Vuillard, Pierre Bonnard, and the other Nabi painters. There are patterns of furniture, patterns of parasols, patterns of fabric and wall coverings, patterns of light and shade, and patterns of flowers, all played off one another in bright sunshine...." (Monet's Giverny: An Impressionist Colony, p. 172) In The Kitchen Door, as in other works from this period, the artist's use of sunlight, the direction and texture of his brushstrokes and contrasts of light and shadow create a patterned harmony reminiscent of the Post-Impressionists. Ultimately, Frieseke's depictions of the female either in or outdoors, stand as masterpieces within his oeuvre. His ability to play with light and technique and imbue his models with an air of independence continues the venerable art historical tradition of female representation and positions the artist as one of the most venerated American Impressionist painters of women.

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

Fifteen years and the manga has been adapted into anime, drama CDs, character music CDs, stage musicals, live films, and now a musical orchestra is in the works. What a feat!

For celebrating Kuroshitsuji 15th Anniversary, there will be Kuroshitsuji orchestra concert in first half of 2022!

[get-your-fics]

Violent Delights - Chapter Four

Playing Dirty

Summary: Bruce Wayne is addicted to a lot of things to distract from his dark urges, but his addiction to you might only increase them.

Pairing: dark!Bruce Wayne x reader

Series warnings: Violence, language, smut, rape/non-con, stalking, kidnapping, underage drinking, drug use, torture, abuse

CHAPTER THREE

The front door let out a quiet creak as I pulled it open as slowly as possible. I stepped inside the manor, the floorboards squeaking under my weight. I turned around and gradually pushed the door closed. It finally clicked into place, and the telltale sound caused Alfred’s head to pop out of the archway leading to the living room and into the hallway.

“Master Bruce, you’re home early.” He stepped into the hall tentatively and looked at me with hope in his eyes. “How was the charity ball?”

I let out an exasperated groan. “It was fine.” I shed my tuxedo jacket and shoved it into his arms.

“Did you find Miss (Y/L/N)?” His head followed me as I trudged past him.

“Yes, I did.” I lifted a hand and massaged my temples with my long, thin fingers. My head was pounding.

“Well, how is she?” he persisted.

With my back to him, I rolled my eyes. “She’s fine,” I grumbled, my words slightly slurring together.

His gray brows furrowed, and his lips twitched into a frown. “Master Bruce, have you been drinking?”

I leaned back against the wall, my head bumping into an old, dusty painting of a vase of lilacs. “What do you think?” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “You said my parents worked with her family, right?”

He wrung his hands. “Well, yes, a little bit.”

“So they would have her address on file.” I toed off my dress shoes.

He cocked his head to the side. “Possibly, but they wouldn’t be allowed to give out that information.”

I gave him a pointed look. “Alfred, look who you’re talking to.”

 “Right.” He folded his hands in front of him and advanced towards me. “What do you want with her address anyway, Master Bruce?”

I tugged at my bowtie before it hung loose around my neck. “I don’t believe I’m allowed to give out that information,” I mocked. I sent him an antagonizing wink before stumbling into my room.

It was easy enough getting your address. All I had to do was call reception at the Wayne Enterprises building and tell them my name. After that, I had my chauffeur drive me in a town car with tinted windows to your home. Turns out it was about five miles from mine and in the same neighborhood of sprawling estates, so the drive wasn’t long. I had the chauffeur park across the street from the wrought iron gate sealing off the property.

Your home was a manor slightly smaller than mine. It had high, gray brick walls crawling with ivy and large, white-trimmed windows. The pointed roof was built out of cobblestone, and the garden was green and well-tended to. There were several neatly trimmed shrubs and a bubbling fountain in the front lawn. It was a lot cleanlier and livelier and more cared for than Wayne Manor was, well, at least that’s how it looked from my confined position.

I sat in my town car outside of the gates for a whole week from sun up to sun down, surveying and keeping track of the daily routine at your home. Unlike my manor, yours was constantly full of life. Maids and butlers and gardeners were consistently coming in and out of the front gate, but there was no sign of you. The only clue that anyone resided there at all was a sleek, black town car that went in and out of the gates. One time, I caught a glimpse of the passenger in the backseat, and from what I could see, she looked like a rich, middle-aged woman with bleached blonde hair. She definitely seemed like the head of the household.

I got sick of sitting and waiting for you to show up, so I drove to your estate as normal, but this time I was in a UPS van rather than my usual town car. It was easy getting them to let me rent it for an hour. If you threw enough money at anything, you could get what you want. I pulled up to the front gate and rolled down my window. I leaned out of it and pressed the buzzer on the gate.

After a second, a snooty voice asked, “What’s your business?”

“I’m dropping off a package!” I yelled into the speaker.

There was a pause, and then, “Go ahead.”

The gate buzzed as it swung open, and I fell back into my seat. I stomped down on the gas, finally able to drive past the iron gates that had kept me from you for so long. I pulled around the fountain in the middle of the circular driveway and pressed down on the brake in front of the door to the manor. I undid my seatbelt and grabbed the large, brown box in the passenger seat next to me. I kicked the door open and hopped out of the van, closing it with my shoulder behind me.

I jumped up the wide, brick steps and landed on the doorstep. I looked up at the tall, arched, double doors and sucked in a deep breath. Balancing the cardboard box in one arm, I pulled my cap bearing the UPS logo down lower to shield my face. I hit the doorbell and listened to the satisfying ring reverberate throughout the inside of the large manor.

I heard muffled footsteps drawing closer and closer to the door from the inside. Then, the door opened, and the woman I had seen in the back of the town car poked her head out. “Hi! Are you (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” I asked in a bright and cheery tone.

“No, I’m her mother.” The unnaturally wide smile on my face nearly faltered. Your mom? But I thought you said you were an orphan? “May I help you?”

“I have a package for her.” I lifted the box in my arms higher. “Is she home?”

The woman’s glassy eyes raked over my uniform, and her thin lips pulled taut into a straight line. “No, she’s not.”

“Do you know when she’ll be home next then?”

“She doesn’t live here anymore,” she snapped. Rude. Your mom wasn’t very nice to innocent delivery men. “Who is the package from?”

“Uh...” I pretended to read the label I had printed out at home. “It says it’s from Gotham Children’s Hospital.”

Her expression softened slightly. “Oh, it’s probably a thank you gift. My daughter is the fundraising chairman of the (Y/L/N) Corporation. She gives a lot to charity,” she said with a condescending smile. Your mom liked to brag, didn’t she? “I can hold onto it for her.” She started to reach for it with her frail arms.

I pulled it out of her grasp. “I’m sorry, but I need her to sign for it. Do you have an address I could forward this to?” I flashed her a polite smile.

She studied me intently for a moment before relenting. “Wait right here.”

She left the door open and retreated into the mansion. Her stiletto heels clicked against the polished, wood floors as she walked down a long hall, leaving a cloud of expensive, jasmine perfume behind. She turned into a room off of the hall, and I took the time to examine the foyer. A large, winding, marble staircase led to the second floor, and a ginormous, crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling. It would be almost too easy to walk in and do whatever I wanted, but this place was of no use to me anymore.

Your mother returned with a slip of paper in hand. “Here’s where she lives now.” She held it out to me, and I took it from her. “I’m surprised they didn’t have her new address already, but knowing that girl, she probably forgot to update it. She’s always so busy giving back to the community.” She settled her hands on her hips.

“Right.” I forced one more painful smile. “Well, thanks for your help. Have a good day!”

“You too. Goodbye.” She quickly shut the door.

The smile slipped from my face the second she was concealed from view and a smirk formed in its place. Your mother was dumb, gorgeous, but for once I was thankful for someone’s stupidity. Your mother just handed me the golden ticket, and it would lead me straight to you.

The address scrawled onto the slip of paper took me to an apartment building in the center of Gotham. It wasn’t too far away from Wayne Enterprises and looked very sleek and modern. All of the walls were made of glass, which made it easy for me to locate you in the penthouse at the very top of the building. I could only imagine the rent cost an arm and a leg, but as the chairman of an internationally successful corporation, I’m sure you had more than enough plus a little extra. I wondered why you had felt the need to move out of your family’s manor. Maybe it was because you liked having a sense of independence, even if Mommy and Daddy were still the ones making your millions.

For a girl with a practically made up job, you kept a pretty busy schedule. You woke up every morning at the crack of dawn and got ready for the day. Your town car pulled up around eight in the morning, and you climbed into it wearing a designer dress or fitted pantsuit. You were always adorned with jewels worth more than most mens’ bank accounts. You started your day by grabbing a vanilla latte and a slice of coffee cake from Roosevelt’s before heading off to whatever you had scheduled for the day. During the week, it was tedious board meetings, lunches planning fundraisers, and dinners spent convincing snobby millionaires who inherited all their money to give to the less fortunate that kept you running from restaurant to cafe to conference room and back again. The weekends were reserved for benefits and galas and charity balls where you charged up your black card until the amount reached seven digits.

I had to admit, I enjoyed watching you strut around with your nose in the air and a sway in your hips. You exhibited the same confidence you had that night in the Towers, but now it had more of an authoritative air to it. I could see us now, me, the billionaire CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and you, the savvy, charitable businesswoman and future Mrs. Wayne.

I was still curious as to why you felt so indebted to give. The people around you sure didn’t. Your mother certainly didn’t seem like the giving type, considering the way she treated me and how she hardly left her luxurious estate. I wondered what had inspired you to write check after check to people in need. Or were you running from something, gorgeous?

You sashayed out of the lobby of your apartment building dressed in a checkered suit, a pair of Ray Bans shielding your eyes from the blazing, summer sun. Your town car pulled up to the curb at the same time, and you ducked into the backseat. I watched the car peel down the street and out of sight before I got out of mine. I crossed the road, narrowly dodging oncoming cars, and slipped inside the glass doors of the building.

The lobby was rather empty except for a few people and a security guard. Luckily, I fit in with the environment of the building and its posh residents in my black turtleneck and fitted pants. I walked straight past the security guard and towards the turnstiles barring the elevators from me. I took my fake apartment pass out of my pocket. It was pretty simple to make it a few days ago using all the technology Wayne Enterprises had to offer. Still, I held my breath when I scanned it, and only released it when I heard the beep and pushed through the turnstile with ease.

I shoved it back into my pocket and approached the elevators. I jabbed the up arrow button with my pointer finger, and a second later, the light above the middle elevator flickered on. A ding sounded as the metal doors slid open, and I stepped inside. The button for the penthouse lit up when I selected it, and the doors clicked into place behind me. The elevator jolted slightly when it started to ascend, but the ride quickly smoothed out as it climbed up the skyscraper.

I watched the number of floors tick higher and higher until the elevator finally came to a stop. The doors parted, and I stepped out into a small hallway leading to a single door. I glanced around, making sure no one was watching me, before I pulled out a pair of black, leather gloves. I slipped them on as I walked towards the door. I took out my lock picking kit and bent over, getting to work. After a little bit of testing and tweaking, I heard the telltale click of a lock opening. I grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, and the door gave way.

I stepped inside the penthouse, my dress shoes squeaking against the light hardwood floor, and took a deep breath. The air smelled fresh, like lemons and lilacs and laundry detergent. I kicked the door closed and locked it behind me. I glanced down at the heavy, silver, Cartier watch on my wrist. I had approximately four hours before you would come back and regather your wits in between meetings. Four hours to do whatever I wanted in your home.

Maybe my behavior was starting to border on psychotic.

The living room was open and airy with a breathtaking view of the cerulean sky and Gotham City skyline out of the wall of floor to ceiling windows. There was an L-shaped, white leather couch in the middle with a few gray pillows haphazardly thrown on it. A potted succulent and a copy of George Orwell’s The Road to Wigan Pier gathered dust on a glass coffee table. A large flatscreen tv was mounted to a white wall. After digging through your DVR, I found that you didn’t really watch a lot of tv, which made sense, since you didn’t really have the time to. The only shows you had recorded were a couple of dramas, some family sitcoms, and the occasional guilty pleasure reality tv show. Titles by Howard Zinn and Upton Sinclair lined the shelves of an overcrowded bookcase, and a few Rothko paintings hung on the wall, bringing in a little bit of color to an otherwise monochromatic room.

Next was the kitchen. It was situated right beside the living room in an open concept style. The cabinets and cupboards were made out of glossy, white wood and didn’t have handles. You had to push on them before they opened. The countertops were clear and shiny from a recent cleaning, and what little dirty dishes there were had been stacked in a pile in the sink. Overall, it was extremely tidy and neat. The only thing out of place was a half-drunk glass of water sitting on top of the island. I guess you had run out of time before you could drink all of it this morning. I picked up the glass and drained the rest of its contents before putting it in the sink for you. You could thank me later.

I moved into the dining room right off of the kitchen. I knew you used it for some of your fundraising dinners and board member meetings. There was a pair of glass, double doors that led out to the patio. I could see a grill that I doubted you used, some tables and chairs, and lounge chairs surrounding a rectangular pool filled with crystal blue water. The surface perfectly reflected the sun and the clouds so it looked you like you had the sky in your patio.

I took the see-through staircase to the second floor. It led me to a small landing with two doors. I chose the one on the left, and I opened it to reveal your bedroom. However, it wasn’t decorated with personal or sentimental belongings. It looked more like a hotel room than somebody’s bedroom. I walked across the white fur rug and collapsed on the king-sized bed that was the focal point of the room. It was impossibly soft, like laying on a cloud, and I rolled around in the white duvet, messing up the articulately made bed. I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to fuck you on this very bed, to hear the sounds of your moans over the squeak of the springs and leave imprints of our intertwined bodies on the mattress and dampen the sheets with our sweat. My eyes snapped open. I was getting hard already, and I had to stay focused. I couldn’t attend to my needs just yet.

I got off of the bed and smoothed out the covers before heading into the attached bathroom. The walls were covered with gleaming, white tile, and the floor under my feet was made out of cold marble. The wall of windows had a large, white curtain drawn over it to keep passersby (but mostly me) from seeing in. There was a walk in shower big enough for three people to fit inside comfortably. The shower head was a metallic rectangle installed in the ceiling that let down a drizzle of water similar to rainfall. I took my time smelling your body wash and shampoo and conditioner, all of the products that made up your delicious fragrance that I had become so addicted to.

I walked over to the sink. Above the counter was a mirror that had a string of lights around that, when turned on, gave the perfect lighting I assumed to do your makeup. I bent down and rummaged through the cabinet below the sink. I found a lot of hair care items, bottles of perfume, boxes of tampons, and lotions. I saw a little green packet in middle of it all and picked it up. Birth control. From the looks of it, it had been recently used. Good to know. I put it back and closed the cabinet. I stood up and looked at the sink. There was nothing on the counter except for a single toothbrush. I took it out of its holder and ran my tongue over the bristles. I could still taste the minty toothpaste you had used this morning. I wondered if this is what your mouth would taste like when I finally kissed you.

I replaced the toothbrush and turned into the other door attached to your bedroom. It led me to a huge walk-in closet probably as big as most college dorms. Garments ranging from your everyday dresses and suits all the way to luxurious evening gowns hung on racks lining the perimeter of the room organized by item type and then color. There was an island in the middle that contained all of your designer purses, high heels, and priceless jewelry. A small chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling cast white light down on the closet. I scampered over to a plain laundry basket tucked into the corner of the room. I fell to my knees and sorted through the contents until I produced a pair of black, lace panties. I buried my nose in them and breathed in your scent. My eyes closed, and a smile came over my face. I could tell they had been recently worn.

My blood ran cold when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I lifted my face away from your underwear and glanced down at my watch. “Shit,” I whispered under my breath. I had lost track of time.

I only had enough time to shut the door and turn off the closet light before the door to the bedroom swung open. I peaked through the slats in the door to see you walk in, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand and panting from exhaustion. You dropped your purse at the foot of your bed and threw your phone on your duvet. It bounced once on the mattress before coming to a rest.

“Why is it so hot?” you murmured to yourself. You kicked off your oxfords and shimmied out of your checkered suit jacket. Then, your fingers went to the buttons on your white, chiffon blouse. My eyes widened as I watched you undo button after button, each one that came undone revealing more of your smooth, unmarred skin. My cock twitched in my pants, and I started palming myself to ease some of the tension.

You finished unbuttoning your blouse and let it hang open. You shrugged it off and discarded it carelessly to the floor. My gaze raked over the exposed skin of your stomach to the rise and fall of your flushed chest. The swell of your breasts could barely be contained by the cups of your pushup bra. My erection was painfully restrained by the fabric of my pants, and I couldn’t take it anymore. As quietly as I could, I unzipped my pants and pulled my hardening cock out of its confines. My hand was still gripping your panties, and I wrapped them around my length as I started to stroke up and down.

You toed off your socks and walked over to the full length mirror in your room. You stood in front of it with your back to me, and I could see your reflection look over itself. You pursed your lips and pinched the skin of your stomach with your fingers. I wondered if you were self-conscious. You had no reason to be. I couldn’t understand how you could see yourself as anything but gorgeous, gorgeous.

You bent over and tugged your pants down your legs, giving me a perfect view of the curve of your ass. The region between your legs was covered by a gray thong, and my hand sped up. Something about the possibility of getting caught in the act thrilled me and only heightened my arousal. Drops of sweat ran down my face, and I bit my lip to stifle my moans so hard that I could taste blood. I imagined touching your soft, warm flesh, letting my hands trail over your curves, covering every inch of skin with my mouth. I imagined tearing that thong off of you before pressing you up against the wall and fucking you senseless until you were begging and screaming my name.

You stood up and reached for the clasp on your bra as I came. My release coated your lacy panties, and I leaned my head back. I couldn’t help the small moan that escaped my lips as euphoria washed over me. It was barely audible, but my pulse quickened as your head snapped in the direction of the closet. You drew your brows together, and the sound of blood rushing filled my ears as you slowly made your way towards me. I was stuck, glued to the spot, and my limbs were frozen. I had no clue what to do.

Just as it seemed like the end for me, your ringtone drew your attention. You stopped in your tracks, and after a second, walked over to your bed, shaking your head. You snatched your buzzing phone off of the duvet and accepted the call before holding it to your ear. “Hello?”

I tucked myself back into my pants as you listened to the speaker on the other end. “Yeah, sorry, I was in a meeting earlier. That’s why I couldn’t return your call. Yeah, I know I’ve been busy lately. I’m sorry I keep cancelling, but there’s not really anything I can do about it.”

God, whoever you were speaking to was really clingy. “Look, we’re still on for tonight, right? Dinner at seven?” I halted all my movements. This person didn’t seem like one of the rich people you cyphered money from. Who were you going to dinner with that wasn’t me?

“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you there.” You paused as the caller said something else. A laugh tumbled from your lips, a real, genuine laugh, and I narrowed my eyes. I wanted to be the one to make you laugh like that! “Okay, I have to go. I have another meeting to get to. I know, I know. Bye, Brant.”

The air was sucked out of my lungs. Wait. I knew that name. Brant? You were having dinner with Brant Jones? The guy who had beaten me up along with Tommy Elliot back at Anders Prep, and then teased and taunted me relentlessly in front of Grace and Emma Hsueh? You were choosing to spend your time with that sleaze when you had me at your every beck and call?

I waited as you got dressed and grabbed your things, and only when I heard the front door slam shut did I come out of my hiding place. I stashed your soiled panties in my pocket for later use. I needed to confirm if my suspicions were true. I dashed out of your room to the other door across from it. It opened to an orderly office. This room was a lot darker than the other rooms. Thick, black curtains covered the windows, and bookshelves packed with even more books bordered the walls. In the center of it all was a grand oak desk. Neat stacks of paper took up the desk space, and a Mac laptop rested on top of a pile of manila folders.

I pushed aside the padded desk chair, sending it rolling across the room, and I combed through the assortment of files and documents on your desk. Finally, I found what I was looking for. I lifted a worn, gray, moleskin planner from off of the desk. The cover was creased and wrinkled from so much wear and tear. I pulled the elastic band keeping it closed off and flipped to the page with the ribbon page marker stuck in the spine of the planner. It was an overview of the whole month, and I went back a couple of weeks to the day after the Falcone Home and School for Orphans charity ball. Sure enough, written down in black, fountain pen was “Dinner with Brant.”

You had turned me down for some half-wit who leeched off of his trust fund? I couldn’t understand it. My eyes scanned over the next couple of weeks, and “Dinner with Brant” was written down in a couple more places and crossed out a few times. I landed on today’s date, and there it was again: “Dinner with Brant” in neat, precise handwriting.

There was no doubt about it. You were dating that ugly, foolish piece of shit! How could you decide to be with that hideous asshat with a brain the size of a walnut? I physically winced as I imagined you two doing anything remotely sexual. He looked like a garbage fire next to me, and yet you would rather date some repulsive, vile creature who did nothing but crawl around from club to club and beg until he could get in and then drink until he couldn’t remember his own name. What could you possibly see in him?

I shouldn’t blame you. It probably wasn’t your fault. There had to be something else going on. Someone as perfect as you couldn’t willingly choose to be in a relationship with him. Maybe you were forced into it, or maybe he was abusing you. The thought of him laying a hand on you made my blood boil. He had already exhibited some pretty controlling behavior already. Though, I guess I wasn’t one to talk, since I was standing in the middle of your office uninvited and all.

But there’s no other way around it, gorgeous. Your boyfriend has to go.

CHAPTER FIVE

[ikemenfangirl]

Black Butler Exhibition - Rich Black (15 Anniversary)

Kuroshitsuji, Victorian dark fantasy manga by Yana Toboso

Black Butler Exhibition - Rich Black at Tokyo, Osaka, Hyogo,  Ishikawa in August 2021 Website: https://www.mbs.jp/kuroshitsujiten

[Rich Black] = Black is deeper than black