#Ciel phantomhive packs

[trevleockdowner]

fucking show off

[pfpanimes]

⌕ kuroshitsuji - ciel phantomhive.

like or reblog if you save/use. 🤍

[kiwicidios]

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ . 🫧ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ

[schizoismo]

🎧 . @cielwhy

[anewp0tat0]

well well well, happy 200th chapter of Black Butler! it's been a long, long time~

I am happy to participate in @bibyshitsuji24k 's 200th chapter event, where I chose to redraw one of my old works! in reality, the first art I did of black butler was a Grelle drawing that.... it way too bad 😶 but this is actually the second piece I did! or atleast the second I posted to the animo. I had found this DIY sticker procedure and I decided to try it out. it was really fun at the time! even if I now see they turned out... not great😅

so I was very thrilled to recreate that process after almost 4 years!! it was a little different than last time, I must have used different wax paper last time cause I swear it was lighter. but otherwise, I think I improved :D

wait I think I was supposed to use tracing paper... better to look at the directions next time.

I'll update is I ever find a good place to stick them :]

[another-kshit-blog]

Two things I desperately want from the Brighton arc:

1) Ciel and Sebastian have to go undercover as father and son and it is awkward and annoying for Ciel

2) Sebastian wearing that fucking nightgown Elizabeth gave him in the Campania bonus chapter

[sleepingdeath-light]

finding out his s/o is pregnant hcs ; older!our!ciel

requested by ; echosoftheocean (—/02/23)

fandom(s) ; black butler

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | main cast

character(s) ; our!ciel phantomhive

outline ; “ Saw the fluffy February event and meant to send an ask in sooner but forgot. I hope I'm not too late. I'm sure you know me by now, but my request is some fluff with OCiel x female reader regarding him finding out she's gonna have his heir.”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

his schedule had been packed full of meetings and missions for the past few months, leaving him very little time to spend with you during the day

this also meant that he saw very little of your early symptoms — certainly not enough to predict such a substantial announcement

of course he realised you were rather ill, but he assumed you were just under the weather and instructed the staff to keep an eye on you

to keep you fed, warm and healthy

so when he finally has the afternoon free to lounge with you, and he calls you into his office to spend some quality time together, he doesn’t quite understand why you seem so fidgety

nor why the servants are grinning and giggling amongst themselves as they escort you to his private office

and he certainly doesn’t appreciate he the knowing smirk on sebastian’s face as he dismisses himself with a warm smile and a bowed head to you

not until you take his hands in your own and blurt out that you were pregnant

like actually pregnant, having confirmed it every way you could: anecdotally (via bard), medically (through the family physician), based on symptoms and even according to demonic intuition (three guesses)

and as you’re explaining all of this, he’s dead silent with this startled expression on his face as he takes in the news — not quite able to believe that you were with child

this is the case for several moments until — just as you’re starting to worry — he snaps out of his stupor and he grins this broad, earnest grin and just starts laughing

he pulls you to your feet and into a kiss before dropping to his knees and placing his hands on your stomach (despite the fact that you were too early to show)

you were going to have a child, you were finally starting a family — you and him and this baby you were carrying

it was a dream come true… something more even

and between the affection and celebration of the moment he’s calling for sebastian and instructing him to ready a room adjacent to your own to become the nursery — and to increase protection around the estate

you mean the world to him and he wants nothing more than to nurture and adore this life you’re carrying — and whilst he’s scared and hurt and fearful for what the future holds, he knows that he’ll be able to bear it so long as you remain by his side

as is the nature of love

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Snake, madam red, lau, agni, and Soma

With Ceil cousin ( the mom of his cousin, we need better name it's gets confusing), like how are they liked with a hard working mother who care for her only son ( care enough that they still trying to get out of the Phantomhive name liked that previous ask )

Cousin Mother Reader | Yandere Blackbutler

Madame Red

When she hears about you through the grapevine she’s interested

Further impressed with your literate ability and pride in your single-motherhood

She does have a nasty habit for killing people who don’t

“What confidence…I admire that about you dearest cousin.”

She’s plenty pleased that Ciel’s decided to keep you with him

Not only to have a valid excuse to bug you but to be the perfect one to help you ‘run’

“Society’s hard on us women, it’s best if we stick together. Right~?”

She enjoys the attention and needy face+ you give her when trying to scheme 

She doesn’t care all that much that Ciel is well aware of this

After all, he isn’t exactly privileged enough to be a shoulder you lean on 

“Sorry but I’m not going to stop! Us two are just two peas in a pod! We belong together!”

Lau

“Ah~so Ciel has added another to the pack? How interesting!”

He really is intrigued especially when you outright scold him and Ran Mao 

“Have some dignity you two. There are children present!”

“Oh do we upset you mother dearest?”

“Don’t mock me. And if you’re going to smoke do it outside, scum.”

“Oh? Your twittering is so violent, why don’t you sing instead? It’d surely make you an even prettier prize.”

“Hey! Miss (Y/n) please don’t throw that at ‘m! Please don’t!”

He loves provoking you 

He thinks its hot

Most women he’s met are a lot more docile 

And with a child no less 

Oh what’d he give to have you straddle him like Ran Mao 

To have you beg him for his help 

But it seems your pride excludes him from your ventures

Too bad you don’t want to work with him an opium manufacturer

He’d love to take care of you both

Agni 

He admires your diligence 

And the way you smile when you talk to your baby boy

He wonders why you don’t treat Ciel the same way

“It must be nice to be able to travel as freely as you two do.”

“...I’m sure the prince wouldn’t mind, having you travel with us.”

“While I wish I could, the government won’t allow me to go so freely. Currently, the acting ‘man’ isn’t willing to let me go.”

“...What’s his name? Surely he wouldn’t refuse an honest marriage proposal.”

He’d wish you weren’t silenced from telling him

Otherwise, he might be tempted to go behind his prince’s back again

Soma

“Marry me (Y/n)! Ciel can take care of your child and we can go back to–”

“Can’t and won’t. My child goes with me, no matter what.”

“Awwwww!”

Because he acts like a child its a given you treat him like one

And man does it feed his mommy issues

When he decides he wants you he’ll have you 

He just has to keep asking nicely right?

If not he’ll just have Agni relocate you

That way he’d be the only baby that you have

Snake

“Well that’s a strong mate if I ever sees one–says Wormsworth. And I agree.”

He’s used to being feared

not anyone with genuine knowledge of his reptilian compatriots

So already he holds a strong attraction to you 

He can’t believe Ciel intends to hurt you 

He doubted from the start

So he can’t be tricked to think he’s not protecting you and your kid

So he might sabotage your schemes or send a snake when its going too well

He wants you to love him he really does 

But if all he can do is protect you he’ll do just that

Besides if you left how else would he show you how good of a mate he is

[fancyfeathers]

Yandere Vincent Phantomhive would, objectively speaking, be worse than any of the Moriarty brothers, wouldn't he? Unlike them, he's actually legally sanctioned for murder, arson, and (controlling) crime, if it benefitted the crown. To the then monarch, his darling and her family falling into his hands might have been an acceptable compromise if it meant winning loyalty and dedicated service in a time of where the underworld was rampant.

Perhaps the next ruler might not think so. A man might be unsympathetic to the sufferings of women, but a female ruler might be horrified and think it not worth the price, especially if the Phantomhive Estate still burned down and Vincent (and perhaps, the older son Ciel) killed early.

But what if... it wasn't one of the twins, but the Darling that was the one that summoned the demon? At the end of her rope, her assaulter pressuring her to have another child, and her left alone as her family broke apart after members either left or were disppeared, for rebelling. But she summons the demon that would be called Sebastian, and feels a twinge of mockery at his resemblance his human vishe has of her tomentor when they make their contact.

Not sure where this would go. Maybe she packs up and flees the country or to the countryside. She raises her remaining son and eventually charges Sebastian to serve and protect him when he decides to take up the Phantomhive Estate. Or she could die soon after summoning him, but commands him to serve her son for his natural lifespan.

Poor Ciel has to see his fond image of his father&early childhood shatter into pieces as he reconnects with his remaining relations on both sides. In this case both Francis Midford (born Phantomhive) and Angelina Durless are disgusted with his late father. His mother's sister particularly loathes the guy in contrast to canon, considers his untimely death as good riddance, but assists Ciel out of love for her sister and worry that her remaining nephew might run into the same fate.

(Honestly, the latter idea is kinder than my first one where she lives longer but firmly remains uninvolved with the 'family business'. That one had Sebastian eventually going yandere for Darling which would be a new traumatizing for her.

He would never force her like her husband did, and rarely gets jealous, but that's only because he's already won in his perspective. Since in this plot bunny Darling made the contract, her soul is his. He only has to uphold his end of the bargain, and a human lifespan is barely anything to him.)

Fancy is the one who normally writes for Moriarty the Patriot but in my opinion Vincent is by far the worst mortal yanderes someone could have. Him as a yandere is like playing chess with no experience against a grandmaster, no matter what you try you are going to loose.

Like honestly I think Vincent would have prepared for any scenario, so the chances of escaping him are slim to none even in death. Vincent could maybe make a deal with the Undertaker in the case of his death to bring him back as a “perfected” Bizarre Doll like R!Ciel in the manga or perhaps he would go as far as to cut a deal with a demon before his darling does.

So even if his darling made a deal with Sebastian it would all be in vain because no matter how he survives he will be back to drag her down with him once again. Though I think it is more likely that O!Ciel is the one who makes the deal with Sebastian since I would kind of view the twins as platonic yanderes for their mother, getting their father’s tendencies. O!Ciel having Sebastian look after his mother since she is supposed to be a grieving widow, and it irritates O!Ciel when she does not act like that given how his father and her husband just died. But soon enough Vincent would return as I said before, if that is alive or somewhat alive, he is not going anywhere any time soon.

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 3) Chapter Seventeen

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Seventeen: One Hell of a Castle

Summary: The Emerald Castle has its share of characters and mysteries within.

            Wolfram, with Sieglinde perched in his arms, led the Phantomhive troupe through the town towards the looming castle.

            “They told us to leave then to stay the night,” said Ciel, keeping his voice low. “Really, what are they playing at?”

            “I cannot say,” said Sebastian. “But…” they entered another square where strange objects rested “something is clearly afoot in this village.”

            (Y/N) looked at the contraptions—strange to most but familiar to them. A cage of iron spikes. A tomb of sharp swords. A seat with iron blades. Paraphernalia of torture for witches.

            “What is this place?” said Mey-Rin, shivering.

            “You do realize it’s packed with instruments of torture?! says Wilde,” said Snake.

            “Those are instruments from the witch trials,” said (Y/N).

            Sebastian’s eyes narrowed slightly. He, too, recognized the instruments. The reminder that they were what (Y/N) could have been tortured with as a witch made his protectiveness well up within him. He deeply desired a chance to rip the men that harmed them apart.

            “This is fast becoming outrageously occult for my tastes,” said Ciel.

            “Hey,” said Sieglinde, looking over Wolfram’s shoulder. “You there, little gnome.”

            (Y/N) smirked in amusement.

            “What’s your name?” asked Sieglinde, staring at Ciel.

            “Oh, dear, forgive us for not introducing ourselves sooner,” said Sebastian politely.

            “She is asking for your name,” said (Y/N).

            “I’m Ciel Phantomhive,” said Ciel.

            “How old are you?” asked Sieglinde.

            “Er ist dreizehn Jahre alt,” said Sebastian.

            “Hmm….” Sieglinde stared at him. Poor Ciel looked very confused.

l

            “This is the Emerald Castle,” said Wolfram.

            A beautiful garden filled with flowers, fountains, and creeping vines enclosed a beautiful, gothic castle. (Y/N) had never known a witch with a castle, but they could see that it would be a perfect place to study magic in.

            “Ooh, what a strange flower,” said Finny, kneeling.

            “Be careful,” said Sieglinde. “It’s poisonous. Your fingers will swell up if you touch it.”

            “R-Right,” said Finny, drawing his hand back.

            Swelling, hm? (Y/N) tilted their head, catlike as they noted the information.

            “This way,” said Wolfram as he carried Sieglinde up the stairs, lit by lanterns hanging from tree branches.

            “You wait here,” said (Y/N) to Snake, Baldroy, Finny, and Mey-Rin.

            “ ‘Kay!” said Finny, waiting in the foyer.

            Sebastian and (Y/N) accompanied Ciel to a dining room where Sieglinde was placed at the head of the table. She smiled at them.

            “You are our first guests in many year. Let us treat you to a special feast,” said Sieglinde.

            “We are much obliged,” said Sebastian.

            “Wolfram, make preparations,” ordered Sieglinde. “And show the servants to their rooms.”

            “Ja,” said Wolfram, walking out of the hall.

            An awkward silence descended. Sebastian and (Y/N) were servants, so they were going to begin conversation, Ciel didn’t speak very good German, and Sieglinde, their host, was not speaking.

            Finally, she cleared her throat. “You there.”

            “Oh—are you talking to me?” Ciel was unsure.

            “We apologize. The Young Master has not yet achieved an adequate grasp of German,” said (Y/N).

            “Is that so?” remarked Sieglinde.

            Silence fell again as no further attempt at communication was initiated by Sieglinde or Ciel. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Then thirty. One hour passed.

            Grooooowwwlllll

            Sieglinde’s stomach let out a tremendous growl of hunger. Not embarrassed in the slightest, she spoke. “That is my body’s signal demanding I ingest some sustenance.”

            “Herr Wolfram is delayed, it seems,” said (Y/N) as Sebastian checked his pocket watch.

            “Perhaps something untoward has taken place?” said Sebastian.

            “He is indeed later than usual,” said Sieglinde.

            An escape, thought (Y/N). “May we visit the kitchen?” They offered a pleasing smile. “Perhaps we can help him.”

            “You may,” said Sieglinde.

            Sebastian also perked up at the escape. Quickly, he headed to the door with (Y/N) beside him. “Well, then, excuse our brief absence.”

            Ciel looked at them in alarm as they left. “Wai—”

            (Y/N) and Sebastian were down the hall before the door closed.

l

            “What are your opinions so far?” said Sebastian.

            “On the witchcraft elements of this place?” said (Y/N), reading his meaning. “I’m not convinced. It’s all too…fairytale. Their amulets lack runes I recognize. That language is correct, but nothing makes words. None of the women sought to use magic against us, just weapons. It’s unusual to have a child in charge, as well. On top of that, it’s only women. Witches are not a gendered category.”

            “As you proved, I’m certain,” said Sebastian, smirking.

            “You know how I feel about rules,” said (Y/N), winking.

            “However, altogether, you are not convinced about the presence of magic,” said Sebastian.

            “Not entirely, no. These witches are unlike any coven I ever encountered or heard of,” said (Y/N). “It is possible they are witches, but I would want to see magic to confirm or deny it.”

            “I believe a healthy dose of suspicion in this land will come in useful either way,” said Sebastian.

            “Yes,” said (Y/N) as they arrived at the kitchen—their noses leading them to it.

            Sebastian pushed the door open. “Excuse me.”

            Wolfram looked up and huffed, “Was wollen Sie?” The words were clipped, harsh—even more than a typical German accent came off. Wolfram clearly disliked them. Or, well, Sebastian. He was avoiding eye-contact with (Y/N), the one he found attractive.

            “The cooking is taking quite some time, so we came to offer assistance,” said (Y/N).

            “All is well, danke,” said Wolfram. The “thank you” was just for (Y/N). “Your aid is not needed. I’ve just finished measuring the ingredients to the recipe’s specifications.”

            “I…see,” said Sebastian diplomatically, practiced in not judging humans (outwardly, anyways)—they were such strange creatures. “However, Lady Sullivan is complaining of intense hunger. I believe you should hurry.”

            “My lady said as much, did she?” said Wolfram, softening slightly. “No helping it, then. Lend me a hand.”

            “Certainly,” said Sebastian.

            “With pleasure,” said (Y/N).

            “I’m making maultaschen. Knead the bread dough for me, will you?” said Wolfram.

            (Y/N) and Sebastian exchanged looks. He was this far behind?

            “What is it?” said Wolfram.

            “Leave it to us,” said Sebastian, smiling as he shed his jacket.

            “Have you already prepared the soup?” said (Y/N), though they didn’t have much hope.

            “No?” Wolfram was confused by the suggestion. “I was planning on doing it after I’ve finished with this. It’s confusing to make both of them at once.”

            (Y/N)’s nose twitched. He is completely inefficient! “May we assist you with that as well?”

            “Sure,” said Wolfram, focusing on his meticulous—slow—measuring of ingredients.

            “At this rate, dinner will not be served until midnight,” said Sebastian lowly.

            “His strategy of doing one meal at a time is unique,” agreed (Y/N). “Frustratingly so.”

            “Yo, Sebastian, (Y/N)!” said Baldroy, walking in.

            He, Finny, and Mey-Rin smiled and said, “Anything we can to do he—”

            “No need,” said (Y/N) and Sebastian instantly.

            Sebastian fixed a pleasantly threatening expression on his face. “You must surely be tired from the long journey.”

            “Please, relax,” said (Y/N). “And do stay out of trouble.” They rolled up their sleeves. There was work to get done.

l

            “Maultaschen and wurst soup,” said Sebastian.

            “Eisbein of ham hock,” said (Y/N).

            “And for dessert, rote grutze,” said Sebastian, placing the dishes down on the table.

            Sieglinde stared at all the food, eyes wide at the smells. “This is a marvelous feast.” Her eyes sparkled with eager hunger. “Nicely done, Wolf.”

            Wolfram scratched the back of his neck. “Er, no, the butler and maid assisted me.”

            “You are allowing us to stay the night. We are merely repaying your hospitality,” said (Y/N) with a closed-eye smile.

            “We are servants of the Phantomhive house.” Sebastian smirked. “It goes without saying we can provide assistance of this level.”

            “Let’s have a taste,” said Siegelinde, digging in (quite literally).

            Despite being a liege, she lacks any human manners, thought (Y/N), raising a brow.

            “Mm, d’lish!” She spoke through a mouthful of food. “I’b neber had sush shoft bwead befowe!”

            “She…eats with such gusto…” said Ciel, disconcerted by facing a lady without manners. It was not what he was accustomed to.

            “She must be unassuming as a matter of principle,” remarked Sebastian.

            “She must not have schooling in human interaction, despite her age and status,” said (Y/N).

            “Well, what are witches to learn other than magic?” said Sebastian, smirking teasingly.

            “How to banish troublesome demons who make fun of them,” said (Y/N), smirking back at him.

            “Oh, dear, I must be careful,” said Sebastian, gaze sharp with attraction towards (Y/N)’s wittiness.

            Wham! The doors of the dining room flew open, and Hilde ran in, distress written into her features. “Herr Wolfram, it’s terrible!”

            “What is it, Hilde?!” questioned Wolfram, and Sieglinde looked up in concern.

            “The Wolfman has come!” cried Hilde.

            Ciel’s eyes widened, and (Y/N) and Sebastian glanced at each other. Had a supernatural enemy truly reared its head?

            “A woman has been hurt badly,” said Hilde. She bowed. “Mistress Sullivan, please save her!”

            “I’ll come right away,” said Sieglinde. “Wolf!”

            “Ja,” he said, picking her up. “You three wait here—”

            “Nein,” said Sebastian. They weren’t letting anything happen without a witness. “Please allow us to join you.”

            Wolfram’s eyes narrowed doubtfully, so (Y/N) spoke.

            “We want to learn about the menace that lurks in the forest so we can be safer ourselves,” said (Y/N).

            “Of course,” said Sieglinde, nodding.

l

            “Make way!” ordered Wolfram as he carried Sieglinde to the injured woman.

            (Y/N), Sebastian, and Ciel remained right on his heels to get a good look at the woman. She lay crying on a mat, dress torn at the back, bleeding from deep slashes.

            The injury is real, thought (Y/N).

            “What is this wound?” Sieglinde’s eyes widened. “This is the first time such a thing has happened. H-Herr Wolfman has never turned his claws upon the people of our village before…”

            “My lady, we must stop the bleeding,” said Wolfram, holding out a bottle.

            Sieglinde uncorked it and spoke to the woman. “This’ll hurt a bit.” She poured the liquid onto the injury, and the woman wailed at the sting of her wounds. Sieglinde bent her head and murmured quietly, speaking “magic” into existence.

            (Y/N)’s nose twitched at the harsh smell of the potion. Sebastian glanced at them and watched their gaze harden on Sieglinde. He knew demonic magic and had witnessed some witchcraft across the centuries, but they were the authority. He would question their opinion when they were alone.

            “Where is her amulet?” demanded Sieglinde, looking up and seeing nothing around the woman’s neck.     

            “She-she was going to pick some medicinal herbs nearby, so she left it behind,” said another village woman.

            “Fools!” admonished Sieglinde. “After I told you over and over to keep it close to you at all times, you still…” She shook her head.

            “He might still be nearby,” said Wolfram, taking charge. “Light all the torches.” The villagers began to spread out.

            “What do you think?” said Ciel quietly, looking at Sebastian and (Y/N).

            “That injury alone is not enough for us to go on,” said Sebastian. “(Y/N)?”

            “I felt no magic,” said (Y/N). “The bleeding has stopped, yes, though plenty of medicines are capable of treating bleeding wounds.”

            “You believe this is a farce?” said Ciel.

            “If it is, the Lady Sullivan believes in it,” said (Y/N). “That much is certain.” The way Sieglinde had concentrated on her spell work, despite the complete lack of similarity to any spell (Y/N) had heard, meant she believed she was truly accomplishing something.

            “So the question of what is going on remains,” said Ciel, narrowing his eyes. “I want to see this wolfman.”

            “Shall we try searching the forest?” said Sebastian.

            “Not now,” decided Ciel. “Avoid doing anything that would give them cause to distrust you.”

            “Tis the wrath o’ Herr Wolfman!” An old lady with bloated, wrinkled features hobbled forward, dressed raggedy robes and waving a walking stick. “Tis his wrath at having strangers intrude upon his forest! Begone, ye outlanders!”

            “It’s because she didn’t have her amulet!” said Sieglinde, a kinder host than any of the other villagers. Her youth and desire to know the world contrasted starkly with the age and jadedness of the other women. “If she had it with her, she wouldn’t have been attacked!”

            “Has Herr Wolfman ever before harmed us by his hand?!” demanded the old lady. “Protect the outlanders, would ye?! Well, Emerald Witch?!”

            Sieglinde’s eyes fell, and she shifted slightly. (Y/N) raised a brow. That was quite the audacity with which she spoke to the liege of the land, and a powerful wtich if the tales were true. It was disrespectful, unbecoming, and suspicious.

            “Lest ye forget, Emerald Witch, our ancestors suffered countless atrocities at the hands o’ folks from the outside!” The old lady glared and shouted further, voice raising into the branches of the forest. “Ye must never trust their ilk! Ye must never forget the grudge borne by our forebears! Ye must never forget the gratitude and awe we owe Herr Wolfman!”

            “But I—”

            The hag turned on the Phantomhive lord and servants. “Hear ye, foolish interlopers. Tis ye who have unleashed the fury of Herr Wolfman! Tis all your doing, swine! Yours! Swiiiiine!” She loomed over Ciel, and Sebastian and (Y/N) kept a close watch over her actions. “Get ye gone from here, posthaste! Lest ye be wanting Herr Wolfman to rend ye limb from limb!” She turned and tottered away, screeching warnings of the outside world and the wolfman all the while.

            “…” Wolfram looked at the villagers murmuring worriedly. “Stay inside until dawn.” That was all they could do for now. “It’s plain to all of you now, isn’t it? Don’t carelessly venture into the forest if you value your lives. Ever!”

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[darkspellmaster]

Master Post for A Phantomhive in Night Raven College or one Hell of a Twisted Tale

So If you're looking for the story, Here is the master post with all the Chapters broken up in to groups. I hope this helps, and also if you want to skip over say the Long Halloween, you can.

Main Arcs are linked, All Vignettes are in-between Chapters.

Summary:

Ciel Phantomhive, the Queen's Watchdog, has seen some serious situations in his short life, and always had control over them, but he never once believed he would find himself in a world where all his skills and charms would be useless to him. Now, tossed through a gateway to a Twisted world where magic abounds, can the young Earl Phantomhive manage to survive going to Night Raven College, and unravel the mystery of why he was set there, and how to get back home.

A, mostly, Cannon Compliant, crossover of Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji and Twisted Wonderland.

Chapters (Only Beginning and Endings)

Welcome to the Villain's World Ciel

Chapter 1 / Chapter 6

The Rose Red Tyrant

Chapter 8 / Chapter 24

The Usurper of the Wilds

Chapter 25 / Chapter 46

The Phantom Bride

Chapter 47 / Chapter 57

Halloween is Coming

Chapter 58 / Chapter 61

Halloween: Terror is Trending

Chapter 65 / Chapter 130

Halloween: Spectral Soirée

Chapter 131 / Chapter 156

Merchant of the Depths

Chapter 157 / ?????

Chapter 165:Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, A Deal with a Devil

Chapter 166: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Splashing Encounter

Chapter 167: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Scheming

Chapter 168: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Water-logged Misfortune

Chapter 169: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Shocking

Chapter 170: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Marred

Chapter 171: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Advantageous

Chapter 172: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Brainstorming

Chapter 173: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Dastardly Heist.

Chapter 174: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Gone Fishing

Chapter 175: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Jousting with a Kraken

Chapter 176: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Lonely Pot

Chapter 177: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Packing and Unpacking

Chapter 178: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Late Night Conversations

Chapter 179: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Interventions

Chapter 180: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Enter Dream World

Chapter 181: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, First Time Riding

Chapter 182: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, It’s a Small World

Chapter 183: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Everything Goes Up And Down

Chapter 184: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Learning to Steer

Chapter 185: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Screamin’ in Space.

Chapter 186: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Traversing the High Seas

Chapter 187: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Tally Ho

Chapter 188: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Sunset Screaming

Chapter 189: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Goalie

Chapter 190: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Shooting for a Picture Perfect Dance

Chapter 191: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Game, Set, Whack that Mole

Chapter 192: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Spun out.

Chapter 193: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Touring by Train

Chapter 194: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Bugged and Bumped

Chapter 195: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Exploring the River

Chapter 196: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Into the Jungle

Chapter 197: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Shots in the Dark

Chapter 198: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Thundering Down the Mountain

Chapter 199: Merchant of the Depths–That Butler, Gazing at Bright light.

Chapter 200: Twisted Vignette–That Butler, Contemplative Morning

Chapter 201: Twisted Vignette–That Butler, Holiday Shopping

Chapter 202: Twisted Vignette–That Butler, Frantic

Latest Chapter

Chapter 203: Twisted Vignette–That Butler, Changing Seasons

Have questions, just shoot me an ask. Happy to answer it.

Discord for those interested in it.

[scribbleseas]

Straight Laced, Chapter VIII: To Be A Keen Observer…

Description: After the London’s Royal Ballet company’s prima ballerina goes missing within a string of mysterious disappearances among the ballet’s young ballerinas, you finally get your chance to debut in the leading role, taking on the position’s physical toil and immense social pressure. Although this role was supposed to be your grand jeté into the spotlight, it is quickly complicated when these disappearances catch the eye of Ciel Phantomhive — the Queen’s Guard Dog. He is a captious and shrewd man who also happens to be one of London’s most eligible bachelors.

For enough profit for you to secure your freedom for the first time, Lord Phantomhive double casts you as both his accomplice to solving these dancer disappearances and… his pretend lover. While debuting as London’s new prima ballerina, you must perfect a brand new routine: deceiving all of the nation’s polite society while actively searching for a serial killer — all while being an immigrant from France with a dancer’s reputation.

What could go wrong when you realize this off-stage performance of yours may not be an act at all?

Story Warnings: detailed description of gore, pain, and violence, detailed death, smut & explicit sexual scenes, allusions to non-consensual sex, objectification, prostitution, allusions to under-aged prostitution, smoking, drinking, eating disorder tendencies (food restriction, frequent references to wanting to maintain a certain weight, over-practicing & exercising), infidelity, fake courtship, swearing

Author’s Note: I have nothing to say for myself, besides thank you so much for reading! And thank you so much for sticking with me. I’m sorry about that last cliffhanger. (Kind of.)

Dan

⇐ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇒

MASTERLIST

November 10, 1895

The British Museum

The Yard. The press. Throngs of pedestrians fleeing from the museum to catch a glimpse of the chaos. Flashing lenses immortalizing Maisie Stannard’s bleeding body, craning necks, overlapping questions.

“Lord Phantomhive, Lord Phantomhive, who’dunnit?” someone demanded, sick comedy in their voice.

Now the public knew. They no longer had the benefit of a quiet investigation.

The Same Night, Hours Later

Ciel’s Estate

The evening’s fiasco was practically the worst-case scenario for any crime scene, Ciel thought, staring into the lively orange licks of flames in his fireplace. The contained inferno crackled, demolishing the kindling Finny packed inside moments before their return.

The fall night was brisk, the draft blowing against his window, causing balding tree branches to scream.

Finally left alone, the Earl of Phantomhive loosened his tie, slouched behind his desk, and allowed his fingers to knit in his dark hair. He released a frustrated groan he’d long been holding, spat out a curse he’d long bit down in the face of the curious public. They wanted to construct a story that would attempt to broadcast Ciel’s shock, but he would never give them the satisfaction of witnesssing a Phantomhive plan go awry.

Still, the predicament was an embarrassment. He wanted the killer to be William, but the suspect never truly felt proper—even as he watched the Yard escorted the man in handcuffs. He’d merely convinced himself William was completely guilty because it was the most convenient solution, and that was worse than a confident response being wrong.

Ciel’s eye strained from analyzing the list of guests from the gala. The names and titles were forged into his brain, and yet, how could he stop? Another person was dead because of his shortsightedness. It was a smear on his name and reputation, one far worse than courting a prima ballerina.

At the end of the day, he should have known better. It was too convenient for the killer to be William. Ciel doubted he had much of a capacity to kill—not the intellect, not the bravado, and not the motive.

Was he a violent criminal who took what he felt he deserved no matter who he hurt? Certainly. But was he intelligent enough to poison a young woman slowly using dimethylmercury? To lure a young woman to a bridge and dispose of her in the river beneath? Not to Ciel. He had to be missing a significant part of this investigation. What could he be missing? Who could he be ignoring?

Someone had to have known William’s crimes against members of his company, and plotted to frame him. The death had to be connected to the rest of them—too convenient to be a coincidence. Y/n knew her. They were both part of the same company— rivals, even. All of the dancers were a part of this company, at one point in their short-lived careers. Even the victims who were working somewhere new during their time of death or the last day they were seen, worked under William at one point in time.

Y/n said that the incidents all seem to take place on Thursdays, Fridays, and Sundays. Days where the full company rehearsed The Nutcracker in full, and Natasha was occupied with costume fittings. The company was in its last two weeks of playing Swan Lake and now it was preparing to welcome the holiday season with the festive ballet. It always had a popular run, causing it to start at the end of November until the weekend after Christmas.

That couldn’t be a coincidence, either. Ciel thought it incriminated William because it ensured that his company— including his wife — would be at their most distracted. Perhaps, the real killer assumed Ciel would draw that conclusion. They would have needed to break into William’s South Hampton home to plant the weapon used to kill Janet Fischer, as well. It seemed that estate was the only property William left unkept.

“I’ve brought your tea, my Lord,” Sebastian said, his habit of breaking Ciel’s focus entirely too common. The Earl knew better than to be startled by his demon butler. After all, the being was at the mercy of his orders. They both knew the terms of their contract intimately well: Sebastian obeyed all of Ciel’s commands and once they apprehend those responsible for the deaths of the previous Phantomhive heads, Sebastian could consume his soul.

“How damned am I, Sebastian?” Ciel asked, half pressing for what the butler made of tonight’s accident and half assessing the damage dealt between him and Y/n, given that the butler had just delivered her a night snack. She was never one to hide her feelings, surely giving Sebastian an earful about how Ciel managed to offend her. Uncovering just what had sent Y/n into her tirade beckoned at Ciel more than he liked, distracting him even more than the investigation was. The prima ballerina was so nonchalant about her promiscuity; could their relations have truly meant that much to her?

Did she feel an inescapable sense of dread and thrill around him, too? A spark so addicting that all she could do was be near him? Just like a good sip of that sweet wine she adored.

“What are you referring to?” While the butler poured a cup of tea, he lifted an eyebrow at the Earl, questioning him. A knowing smile pulled at his lips.

“Don’t you play dumb. You know whom I speak of.” The irritation in Ciel’s voice filled the room.

Sebastian merely chuckled at him. “How do you think making an enemy out of the Norfolk duchy by refusing his only daughter would end for you, sir?” His question was anything but accusatory— amused at most. Curious to get an idea of Ciel’s honest priorities: the wise match, Caroline and her presumptuous mother, or the correct match. The prima ballerina. His prima ballerina, as they worked so hard to make the public believe.

Except, they didn’t understand how much Ciel was just as much her Earl of Phantomhive.

All there was in polite society was Gwen, insisting she and Caroline come to his estate for tea. A meeting he was far from in the position to reject, out of respect to the current Duke of Norfolk. Ciel should have put a formal end to the slow beginnings of courtship he’d hinted to Caroline. At the time, he felt there was nothing to end, since nothing had really begun.

Had the Norfolk line not been in jeopardy, Ciel doubted Gwen would have continued to pursue him for Caroline with such insistence, especially after he announced his courtship of Y/n. Without a male heir, the duchy needed to secure its new duke by marrying Caroline to a suitable noble. The position had been attractive at the time, but now, Ciel hardly felt the appeal. Instead, he intended to tell Y/n that Gwen invited herself to the estate for tea after she forced him to share a cordial dance with her daughter, but Y/n fled the ballroom before he could.

“I could withstand it. And if I could not, you would see me through,” Ciel insisted, turning his gaze back down to the names on his newest list of names— a compilation of suspects with motivation to either kill company ballerina Maise Stannard or the wife of a plagiarizing artist with a legion of enemies. “Unless something changed in our contract within the last seven-some years?” Ciel prompted, scowling at the supernatural being.

The side of Sebastian’s mouth twitched. “Of course not,” he confirmed, “though I may not be able to shield you from the wrath of a woman scorned. Those dangers are entirely different from one another, you’ll come to understand.”

Such reflecting over his personal life was a painful waste of effort. He needed to prioritize his thoughts. Another person died, dammit.

The distinction between company ballerina Maisie and wife of conman Maisie was critical because it decided whether the serial killer was bold enough to kill in front of a high-end gala lined with security or if one of Stannard’s enemies was sending him a message.

Ciel’s eyebrows knit together, unsure if Sebastian was referring to Y/n or Caroline. He cared significantly more about the former. Though, it was only fair to note that Y/n never made her intentions clear enough to be shunned in the first place. She was enigmatic, and beautiful with a puzzling charm— Ciel would’ve had to be daft to ignore that about her. But that didn’t translate to wanting him beyond physical companionship… at least it hadn’t until she confronted him.

Though he couldn’t help but wonder: didn’t Y/n know better? Didn’t she understand that she was deserving of someone who could love unconditionally. In what world could he? Ciel couldn’t even promise never to lie to her.

All relationships and promises in Ciel’s life were conditional. He was a self-serving man—the remnants of the disturbed boy who returned to the land of the living seven years ago with a ravenous demon counting the days to the end of their contract. If Ciel couldn’t even promise to never lie to Y/n—how could she expect him to love her? Did she love him?

There was no loving him. Not without letting it destroy her life. They both knew that. And yet… he had already given into his passionate whims with her. He’d already decided to throw his reservations to the wind, the last of his resilience shattering like glass when she broke into sobs caused by him.

“I thought I was protecting her,” Ciel replied simply, taking a drink out of his hot tea. He welcomed the scorching burn as it traveled down his tongue. The warmth filled in his empty chest. ”I did not scorn her.”

It didn’t matter if she loved him, nor did it matter how he felt about her. The consequences of anything more than a partnership between them would be immeasurable no matter what, but he was more than equipped to handle them.

Could Ciel justify trapping a ballerina in a life where the rest of society would remind her that she was an outsider every day? Gwen and Caroline were the least destructive instance of the social persecution Y/n would face for climbing the social ladder so ambitiously as the rest of the world would see it.

When the world looked at Y/n, they didn’t see her natural aptitude for investigation, her intelligence. Her humor. They saw the misdeeds put upon her by forces much greater than herself. They saw the reckless apathy that was placed on all ballerinas, and assumed that it was their own fault.

No one would see the regard in Y/n that Ciel took so long to notice. They misread her. And they would never care to read her properly until it was too late.

Until she condemned them in a tearful diatribe across the street from the British Museum. That spirit was what convinced Ciel that she had the potential to feasibly manage. If such was the life she truly desired for herself.

“Go get another history on Maisie Stannard,” Ciel ordered Sebastian, wanting to be left alone again. He felt the demon attempting to dissect him, and it was suffocating. Sebastian hadn’t even deigned to reply, merely looking at him with unconcealed amusement. He liked watching Ciel wrestle with such foreign conflict, provoking him for sport to further insult the injury— there was nothing insightful he wished to add.

“Yes, my Lord.” After a disingenuous bow, the demon was gone.

November 11, 1895, The Next Morning

Y/n’s Rehearsal Studio

“No,” Y/n’s irritated voice snapped the moment Ciel opened the door of his own estate’s practice room and let himself inside.

Rehearsal studio, rather.

He released a sigh that he’d been holding from the moment Mey-Rin told him that Y/n would be absent from their breakfast table. He knew she would make a childish effort to avoid him, but in all honesty, he lacked the time and the patience to entertain it.

Y/n sat in the middle of the room in a nude leotard, her legs fanned open on either side of her. Her back was straight and elongated, forming a perfect line with her neck. It looked effortless. All of her movements looked light and easy, despite the rage that her pursed lips and creased forehead displayed.

She didn’t need to turn around to look at him. Instead, she ignored his image in the floor-to-ceiling mirror’s reflection in front of them. Ciel had to read her expression from the glass, since she purposely kept her back to him.

Ciel caught the variety of materials sitting between her spread legs, several pairs of newly broken in pointe shoes in a row, scissors, adhesive, and a needle and yarn for sewing. They were the same items Y/n used to break in and darn new pairs of pointe shoes for balance and comfort. Ciel knew this routine well— it cost him hundreds of pounds a week to purchase Y/n five or six new pairs weekly.

“Y/n, we have much to discuss. Skipping meals with me will not put an end to the investigation… nor our personal differences,” Ciel told her, carefully stepping closer with the caution a soldier would in a minefield. He supposed a rehearsal studio was just that for Y/n: a battleground.

“All I wanted was a few hours away from you and your investigation. You cannot even give me that?” Y/n corrected coldly, giving the shoe in her hand a hearty smack against the expensive flooring to further break it in. Apparently, all ballerinas had to make their own custom alteration rituals to break in their shoes the exact way they needed it. Y/n liked to eviscerate her shoes’ insoles and shave down the bottoms, stretch the shoe, repair it with adhesive, and darn the flat bit of it.

His investigation? So now it was only his?

“It is not a crime for a ballerina to break in her shoes—I hardly have time as it is, and Nutcracker opens next week,” she continued, still refusing to look at him. She seemed satisfied with the amount of pressure she put on the shoe and squeezed adhesive into its stretched interior.

Of course she wouldn’t look at him. Ciel embarrassed her because he let his preconceived notions about her professions blind him to the extent of her feelings. Ballerinas like Y/n were not inherently promiscuous, and he, despite having one functioning eye, missed that she felt more for him than lust. In what world does a principal dancer fall for a jaded Earl, anyhow?

And he was somehow even more blindsided by his own intricate feelings for her. It was most likely too late. And that was for the best, wasn’t it? It was supposed to be, but the guilty discomfort that sat in his stomach insisted otherwise. It was simply too late.

“The last time I checked, a certain prima ballerina always insisted it was our investigation,” Ciel replied, watching Y/n’s eyes roll in response.

“Clearly, she did not know what she was talking about,” Y/n put her sewing materials and pointe shoes to the side once she was satisfied with the layers of adhesive applied. She continued facing the mirror, spreading into a center split and pushing her torso to the floor in a deep stretch. “Being wrong about so many things makes a person a true lavette, no?” Her stretching position muffled her voice somewhat, but the vitriol was clear to him.

She was comparing her intellect to a dish towel? Honestly? Ciel fought the urge to reflect the prima ballerina’s scornful eye roll to her.

After all, she purposefully referencing both their investigation and their personal matters— enough to show Ciel that there was little to be achieved with the stubborn ballerina at that time. The blows were too fresh.

“What is there for us to discuss, anyhow? That guest list will take ages to sift through, and Sebastian’s interview notes…” Y/n rolled her shoulders back and sat back up only to inhale and bring her torso back to the floor. Her arms stretched in front of her, showing off the sculpted muscle she forged through dance.

Her leotard clung to the trained muscles down her back and arms, causing Ciel’s mouth to run dry as he adjusted his trousers. (Unintentionally recalling her body’s warmth and strength under his fingertips did little to help.)

That realization caused Ciel to moisten his lips, quietly thankful that Y/n was pointedly averting her gaze from him. She would’ve caught and translated that pensive— scandalous — look in seconds, and rightfully called him out for it.

“I want to visit William today,” Ciel managed, barely maintaining his stable tone in the face of his straying thoughts. “The Yard said the bullet found in Maisie was consistent with his Winchester collection. And I still dislike that the Southampton house is William’s only unstaffed possession.” It was all too convenient. Too connected— down to the murders matching the company’s rehearsal schedule.

Even the gala was on a Nutcracker rehearsal evening: a night where it was guaranteed Natasha Wood had her hands full and the company was half alive after such a rigorous day.

“That sounds like the perfect plan, Lord Phantomhive,” Y/n answered bitterly, extending an arm over her head while she leaned to the side. She still had her legs parted in a center split.

Lord Phantomhive was a gut punch. It took all of his composure to hide his crawling discomfort. That had to be the first time he recoiled from the weight of his surname.

To her, he was Ciel. She had seen to it— demanded it, even.

“You can handle that on your own. He will not talk with me there, surely,” she added, her bored tone causing his fingers to curl into a frustrated fist at his side. Finally catching her stare, he noticed that her eyes were bleary as if she had been crying. Even her lips seemed bitten.

Ciel had to ignore the striking urge in his body that begged him to kiss her. Now that he knew her prowess, the way she moved her lips with the same elegance she did the rest of her body, it made her allure all the more intense. So much so that they forced Ciel to skip several heavy seconds before replying to her poor excuse for not wanting to be in the same room with him. He had been occupied with admiring her.

“I would prefer—” he started to object, only for Y/n to interrupt.

“Please see yourself out. I must rehearse, I am running on borrowed time as it is. The last Swan Lake showing is tonight,” Y/n said expectantly, assuming Ciel didn’t know her performance schedule. He merely happened to have committed it to memory.

Y/n rose to her feet. She was already wearing an older pair of pointe shoes, suggesting that she had been practicing before deciding to break in new shoes.

Having risen from the center of the floor, she took graceful steps closer to the mirror, fully turning her back to him as she put herself in the starting position for the Sugar Plum Fairy Variation. After putting in hours of labor as her unpaid pianist, Ciel could recognize those soft, exaggerated steps anywhere.

His stomach only twisted into a tighter knot, offended that Y/n would prefer to rehearse in complete silence than in his piano playing. After all, she once told him that she couldn’t keep time without it.

In unexpected surrender, Ciel closed the door behind him, softly letting the knob click back into place.

It was simply too late.

The Same Day, Hours Later

Scotland Yard’s London Headquarters

Even for a man living in a holding cell, William Wood did not look well. His facial hair, what was formerly a tasteful goatee, was now untamed and slightly overgrown. Deep exhaustion carved bags under his eyes. His sudden fall from grace seemed to age him years, even though it was only a week or two since Ciel made the arrest.

“They told me you’d be coming to see me today,” William grunted, dressed in plain clothes. He wasn’t formally charged yet, but Ciel and the Yard agreed that the threat of allowing an arrested serial killer to remain free before his sentencing was too great to risk. Ciel also needed easy access to William in the event they were wrong.

The criminal’s gray eyes attempted to bore into Ciel’s soul, but really, they were tired. Unfocused. Desperate. He reminded him of a cornered tiger— too proud to submit, but too exhausted to finish the fight.

“Yes… I have questions that demand answers. From you.” Ciel answered carefully. He exchanged a look with the officers guarding the door, silently urging them to clear their throats and seeing themselves out, guarding from the outside of the room. William’s holding cell sat in an isolated room from the rest of the headquarters. The basement was fortified with cement, making the area drafty and dark.

He wouldn’t reveal the news that there was another murdered ballerina, but there were other means to extract the information the situation required.

A condescending smirk twitched at William’s lips, unsurprised. “And you expect me to talk? To you?” He asked, his jubilant tone dripping with malice. “You’ve ruined my life, my wife’s…our livelihood.”

“No one forced you to cheat on your wife. Or assault defenseless young women. Or murder them in cold blood,” Ciel snapped, raising his tone. Natasha, from what Y/n said, was running the entirety of the company without William in the first place. She didn’t need him— he was a pathetic excuse for an heir to a business. That had to be clearer to her than anyone.

Only now, he made her work infinitely more complicated. Especially since the body of Maisie Stannard was plastered all over the front pages of most newspapers that morning, each depicting the mysterious murder that occurred near one of the side entrances of The British Museum.

“You don’t talk about my wife to me,” William’s fingers curled into fists at his sides as he took a step closer to the cell’s bars that separated them. His complexion was shades lighter. “I never killed anyone, either,” he was sure to remind Ciel.

“You will answer my questions, one way or another. How much of your blood gets spilled depends entirely on you, William,” Ciel replied, appreciating the cell wall that separated them. One of them was vulnerable, and it was certainly not him. It would never be.

The Earl pressed the nose of his Nanget Revolver into William’s hip, sliding the nose of the weapon between the bars. He smiled at the defeat that fought the stubborn ferocity in William’s colorless irises, placidly putting the weapon back into his jacket pocket just as smoothly as he’d taken it out.

“Do we have an understanding here?” Ciel asked impatiently. “I am only interested in the truth.”

It was exhilarating to watch the desperate fire extinguish in William’s face, the fighting militance in his shoulders dissipate. His fists unfurled as he sighed, coming to terms with his defeat. He was just smart enough to understand that concept— a lesson Ciel and Y/n fought hard to teach him.

“It’s not like I have a choice,” the former businessman crossed his arms, ignoring the weapon that Ciel threatened him with.

“Your Southampton house,” Ciel started, “why is it unstaffed? When was the last time you were there, before you instructed Y/n Y/l/n to meet you there?”

“I told Natasha I sold it, but it’s been my family’s for generations. I used the place for… meetings I didn’t want her to know about,” William sighed, choosing his words cautiously. “That time with…Y/n… was the first time I’ve been there since my trip to France. So I haven’t been since the end of September. Do I get to know why you’re asking?” He asked sarcastically.

The last time Janet was seen was September 27th.

“When did you leave, William?” Ciel asked with a newfound sense of urgency overriding his frustrations with the man. His mouth was dry, his heartbeat picking up. “Do you know the exact day you departed?”

William shrugged, either not noticing Ciel’s pique or not caring. “September 28th, probably? Early morning.”

Is that enough time to murder a woman— she was projected to have died late that night — hide the murder weapon in Southampton, and return to the London ports by dawn to leave the country? It wasn’t.

”Did anyone have access to your property? Anyone?”

“No one should have. I only… asked my wife to dispose of hers, after I told her I sold the property,” William frowned. It seemed it was only dawning on the careless man that his wife might have lied to him, curious as to the lack of official documentation from the sale, any shift in finances, given the major role in managing their company, according to Y/n.

“She wouldn’t… think I still use the property…” he mumbled the afterthought slowly with disbelief.

The more Ciel asked of William, the more of him and Natasha he understood. They fell in love because she transferred from a ballet school in Russia and starred in a company production of Sleeping Beauty. William was still learning how to run the company, one of the investments out of a larger corporation, but he fell in love with Natasha, the prima ballerina, at the time.

Natasha overworked herself in the role, causing a hip injury to end her professional career only a year into it. And that was two years ago. Now she was the company’s director—nothing like the inspired dancer she once was, William insisted.

He lost sight of his love for the young ingenue because the injury killed her. What was left was a completely different woman. Tired, bitter, frustrated from what she lost...only for her marriage to slowly decline the more she lost herself.

Opportunity, motive…was there a means? It was now of the utmost importance that Ciel found the answer to that question. No matter how Y/n would feel about his investigating Natasha, her mentor. Ciel trusted his instinct—the tugging in the pit of his stomach. The alarm that he felt.

How could he not have seen it sooner? He needed to leave. He needed to stop her before she left for her performance.

It took a frenzied carriage ride through the crowded London streets, but Sebastian’s demonic carriage driving managed to put Ciel in front of his manor just as Y/n was leaving for the opera house. He was always chasing after her, it seemed, but he didn’t care.

For her, he would. She would, for him. Or before he broke her heart, she might have. He was too late, in that regard, but he could stop her here and now.

“Y/n, stop, this is important!” Ciel stumbled out of his carriage, having stepped out of it before Sebastian could stop entirely. He had to intercept her.

The ballerina scoffed at the nerve of him, begging her to stop in her tracks and hear him out for the second instance in a row. At the same time, Ciel demanded that Finny keep Y/n’s carriage stationery for the moment through a brief look, causing his gardener’s superhuman grip to tighten on the horses’ reins. He gave Ciel a resolute nod, his jaw firm.

“What? Is this chasing a daily occurrence?” Y/n quipped bitterly, just as Ciel expected her to. “You have never cared to attend one of my performances before,” she accused, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. Her hand fell still on the carriage door’s handle, frowning at him.

“I have reason to suspect that Natasha is—“ he started gravely, pronouncing his words carefully. He knew what Y/n would say, but he could only prove this theory with her help. If Ciel was right, one misstep could make them the adversaries of one incredibly violent, envious, and dangerous criminal who played the role of a wistful, wise mentor. And played it well.

Immediately, Y/n’s face reddened, defensive. “Stop,” she insisted, her voice hoarse. She turned the handle on the carriage door, causing Ciel to reach out and grab it himself, his hand engulfing hers.

He needed her to approach this logically.

Y/n’s face jerked to look at him, her hand attempting to move with the same speed, but Ciel’s grip kept hers stagnant. She gave their hands a long, hard look.

“You have no idea what Natasha has done for so many of us, how little I would have without her. She would never do this to any of us,” Y/n’s voice wavered.

And what has she done for you? She allows men to abuse you. She encourages you to skip nourishment to maintain some shallow aesthetic. She hasn’t reported any of these missing cases to any of you—

“—She does not know about them!” Y/n interrupted, wide eyed, tears threatening to fall. He had said that out loud. “I would not have this opportunity without her. I have known her for years. You, I have known for? A month? You care about me as much as she does? At all?”

“I care about you more than you know, Y/n,” Ciel replied, trying to keep his voice measured, in spite of his pounding heart. He could feel his pulse racing.

“You do not.”

“I do.”

“Then you show it by dancing with another woman in front of me? By inviting her to your home where I live as a guest the night after we were intimate?” Y/n asked, tears rolling down her cheeks. Ciel’s stomach sank. That was what had caused her outburst at the party: Gwen had lied to her. He didn’t invite the duchess; the duchess had invited herself.

His crime was failing to properly refuse her at the gala. Ciel intended to send his regrets the following day by insisting he had an overseas meeting.

“I did not invite the duchess and her daughter. Gwen seems to have lied to you,” he said, the force behind his words extinguishing. “I realized… that… I don’t want my marriage to be a business venture. I don’t want Caroline to be my Countess—I’ve hardly ever spoken to her! I would want…” he let his next word hang in the air. It filled the few centimeters that separated them.

You.

“I need to leave now or I will be late,” Y/n’s free hand wiped away another tear that escaped her tired eyes. “This is my last Swan Lake performance, Ciel. Please.”

She didn’t believe him. And he didn’t blame her. He had warned her about himself a long time ago.

Every instinct in Ciel refused, but he released the hand that he held stagnant on the carriage door handle. “Fine. You may,” he sighed, exchanging the same look with Finny. Y/n opened the carriage and sat inside, closing the door in his face. Again.

“Sebastian, this is an order. You will protect her as you would myself. Now go. Stay out of sight unless the situation demands it.”

In the meantime, Ciel could escort himself to the performance. He had a chance. No way in hell would he let himself squander it.

The Same Evening

The Royal Opera House

For the entirety of his life, Ciel was a keen observer. He could see through a liar’s carefully constructed facade by a glance, the bravado and charismatic grace that Y/n enlisted to maintain her confidence. The Phantomhive empire was as prosperous as it was because of his ability to read and interpret those around him… and manipulate them accordingly.

Now, all of his expert focus fell on the prima ballerina, just as blazing and intense as the spotlight that illuminated her.

Until this point, Ciel avoided attending Y/n’s performances because they knew they were spellbinding. He was more than aware of her talents—even watching her mumble through her moves as she rehearsed was enchanting. He had pointedly refused to allow himself the indulgence necessary to freely watch the woman act in front of an audience, encapsulating a character through mood and movement when he had grown so accustomed to admiring her individualism.

Rather than tell her so, he’d only insinuated that he was too occupied to attend these performances, despite her frequent invitations. Selfishly, he used to prefer her subdued look of disappointment than run the risk of her noticing the way he fell for her. Without meaning to. In fact, while actively trying not to.

Her raw pain was clear as she depicted Odette grieving the prince’s betrayal, having fallen for Odile’s impersonation of her. It wasn’t unlike her face moments before she stepped in the carriage in order to fulfill this very performance, or even her expression in the studio, or in front of the museum the night before. She channeled her hurt into her work—just as he did. She evolved with each step, every twist, in spite of him. Because of everything he put her through.

The bouquet in his tightening grip crinkled, the decorative paper around it crumbling from the frustration he let out on it. Ciel could hardly hear it over the orchestra in the pit, the assortment of musicians and their quality instruments masterfully recreating Tchaikovsky. But that wasn’t the most impressive aspect of the show— that recognition belonged to Y/n entirely.

He had to correct this gnawing worry in his stomach. The feeling that he was, once again, on the brink of being too late.

The moment the curtain drew after the company’s final bows, Ciel sprang from his seat.

He wouldn’t be too late. At the very least, he owed Y/n that.

[phxntomhives]

I'm resurrecting from the dead

Did you get the joke? No? Ok

Small analysis of this pic

But I'd like to remind you I am no expert on the topic, it's just my 2 cent lol

End of S4 spoilers + manga spoilers under the cut

I am quite confident this is dedicated to the midnight tea party of the anime right now. His identity has been revealed so what better way to celebrate than such a wonderful art?

The first thing I personally noted is the pose. Our dear yandere pose (I got Yuno war fleshbacks ngl) The smile, the hands, that eye. He has the full pack. We can all agree he goes a little insane when we talk about the Phantomhive... but yandere? I wouldn't say so (at least not yet, tho he may be on the correct road to become it). I guess he is dancing on the line between sanity and insanity and this is just the result of it.

Someone already said the liquid that is falling is tea. But I am also very much reminded of blood when looking at that color (and knowing his story, it also fits). Thought it may be just me. I would also like to point out how the tea is not just spilling over from the teapots, they are breaking. And Undertaker is just staring at the scene with insanity.

I am also going insane about all the hands: there is a right hand holding the sugar bowl. Then there is another right hand, holding a teacup which is also crumbling down. But that teacup is being "filled" of tea, that is dropping from above. Then there is also a left hand on the top, holding the teapot's handle (that is now detached from the main body). And there is a fourth hand, holding the dessert. So, here is my idea: the three hands that are holding the tea set represent 3 of the prefects: if I were to take a guess from here I would say that the broken teapot could be Herman Greenhill (the most broken one since he likely feels worst about the situation since he technically started everything). Then the sugar bowl could be Lawrence Bluewer: it is just being destroyed and has no power in the situation. The broken teacup is Edgar Redmond: he tried to hold it together but in the end he still lost control over the situation. Let me first go to the dessert now, I'll go to the other hand in a second.

The dessert. Listen, I am no expert in those but I know a strawberry when I see one. And I believe that is very much R!Ciel's favourite snack a strawberry cake. So listen, if we can discuss that the hand holding the teacup could be X or Y, here I am quite confident it is just R!Ciel. Not to mention that Undertaker is technically staring at him with the yandere look so it would make sense: he would be staring a Phantomhive AND an almost perfect Bizzare Doll he has created. I would go yandere too ngl. The dessert is being "watered" by the tea, which if I am correct and it does also symbolize blood, it could represent the idea/the begin of the blood transfution to keep R!Ciel alive. AND the dessert is being held by the last hand. Who were we missing of the P4 again? Violet. And who has casually the same blood type of R!Ciel? Violet. So I think this is him.

One last thing I noticed of the hands is that three of them are "in the dark" (both at the top and left one at the bottom: Lawrence, Greenhill and Redmond), while the one in the bottom right (Violet) is a little more illuminated than the others. Does this confirm/imply that Violet does already know a little more than the others? I'll let you make a decision I feel it may be just the light and I am becoming paranoid.

I absolutely LOVE how the background is the midnight flower glowing. It gives such a nice contrast in the picture. It also helps in making undertaker look even more ominous lolol. It's so bright and maybe it stands for everything pure you can think of. But Undertaker has turned his back to that light and is just enjoying the chaos. I am trying to find more stuff about the flower and its meaning let's see if I find something eheh

That is all thanks for bearing with me lol.

On a side note: did he always had that ring "tattoo" on his pinky? I am blind ✨✨

(I may check later for grammar mistaker I am tired now)

[singingforthepromises]

Has anyone heard anything about the exact episode count for the Emerald Witch arc?

I'm curious because the episode count will help give a stronger idea of where they plan to end things for this season, and where they leave off can be important.

They seem to be animating 1 1/2 - 2 chs per episode. There are chapters that are more action packed than others also and will probably speed things up.

It seems like they have a couple of options.

If they animate up to chapter 105, it could leave off on Undertaker's conversation with Diedrich, and Ciel lamenting on the "Earl of Phantomhive is still with us, after all" comment.

Or, they could go all out and animate up to chapter 108, which fully sets up the Blue Cult arc by having Undertaker visiting R!Ciel and O!Ciel feeling that something is going on. It would also fully cover the Emerald Witch arc in its entirety.

But it depends on if we get 11 or 13 eps...

[psych3-delic]

I adore your Phantomhive family au <3 to the point that while making a scrapbook I had the thought of Sebastian and Ciel taking Charlotte to the Phantomhive manor years after leaving and then coming back to England. Maybe it’s a historical museum now and take a tour or go in after hours. They take their daughter back to her childhood home and show her around while also mocking any information on the house that’s absolutely incorrect.

Also I’d love to hear what they actually do with the manor in your au.

Hope you don’t mind this, but it made me smile and I felt like I should share.

Ahhhhh sorry for the late reply. I had been sick for 2 weeks and my grandma died lol (here’s a Charlotte WIP for you 😘)

I think the Phantomhives in general go around the world and mocks misinformation in museums/books as a hobby. Sebastian and Ciel started it; and then Charlotte just kinda joined in. They’ve all lived so long.

Ciel would start picking up several languages as well. He enjoys translating literary works and does it in his free time to keep his mind from being idle. He also watched every adaptation of Sherlock Holmes on TV and in Cinema as soon as they came out, but he’s rather ruthless in his critique. (His favorite iteration is the Granada version, ofc!)

As for the estate, it remains under the Phantomhive’s ownership still. Some forged paper here and there passing it down to imaginary descendants to keep it in the family; but it is never lived in. Rumor has it that the mansion is haunted. Despite never seen lit from the inside, the place remains in pristine condition. The grass is trimmed and watered. Flowers bloom. Some teenagers attempted to vandalize the place all came back scared, feverish and uttering nonsenses. Local knows better to meddle with it. Occasionally, ghost hunters broke into the premise for some viral footage; all of their equipment somehow malfunctioned. Those who were brave enough to spend the night talks of seeing a man in butler outfit holding a lit candelabra politely asking them to leave, only to wakes up finding all their luggage packed and themselves halfway through the main entrance. In the end, they all settled to admire the Phantomhive’s seat from afar…

…Until a fortnight ago. On one stormy night, neighboring houses reported seeing light shining through the Phantomhive’s windows; and not just from a few rooms like someone was trespassing, no. The whole place lit up in all its glory like the palatial structure that it was in its prime. And look! Smoke rising from the chimney, welcoming its beloved Lord or Lady’s return.

Another fortnight went by before the rumors made it round around the small town: The Phantomhive’s manor residents consisted of a Child, a Black-clad man, and a fine young lady.

[catdemontraphouse]

“Secrets of the Phantomhives” or whatever the fuck it’s called has just revealed its first notable secret

Ok yall time to pack it up I guess this confirms Sebastian is based on Naberus?? Idk this is an official book with Yana interviews 🤷‍♀️ So I presume she gave these answers?

So far the other stuff has just been like “what was the video game in chapter one a parody of? It was a parody of Mother 3” or “why is Ciel forced to do lessons? Because it’s required for those of noble birth to learn stuff” lol