the butler's escape

2

You guys heard of Rusty Lake? If you like weird and strange point and click games I highly recommend them! Anyway I had to make some ocs based on the games, even tried to use the same style a little.

The Rusty Lake site says they want to be the Twin Peaks of games and that only makes them better in my eyes, so I worked in some Twin Peaks references  o v o

In the Dark

Rating: T (just for a kiss and references to ‘’that month’’)

Warnings: Fluffy? but not OOC; I actually made up a whole plot to justify the characters’ behavior. (that I didn’t write because the day when I’ll write a novel length story is yet to come)


It is a cold, bitter December night, not the anniversary of that dreadful night but unpleasant all the same. Ciel’s treacherous mind wanders back to similarly cold nights spent behind cold iron bars and the soft silkiness of his duvet starts to feel more and more like the harsh bile and spittle-covered wooden floor of a rotting cage. He can’t sleep.

“Sebastian,” he hears himself murmur into the cold night. “Come here.”

Mere moments later, the onyx-swathed form of his butler comes into sight. He can barely make out the silhouette, faintly illuminated only by the violet glow emanating from his right eye. He knows Sebastian is there but he still has to consciously fight the urge to crawl out and cling to him, to demand countless reassurances that he is not back there, that he can’t be hurt anymore.

“Yes, my lord?” The butler asks, in a deeper, much more feral voice than usual.

“Lie with me,” Ciel commands.

Unlike usual, Sebastian doesn’t stall, doesn’t suggest a cup of honeyed warm milk as a suitable replacement to his presence, doesn’t lie stiffly above the covers. Instead, he pushes them back after deftly removing his own clothing and settles under them, pulling Ciel against his shirt-clad chest in a gesture that’s almost warm, if it weren’t so fiercely possessive.

“Tell me a story,” Ciel demands, hands clutching at the other’s shirt so ferociously he might just tear the cloth off.

“Oh,” an amused sound of surprise escapes the butler. “And what kind of story would the young master prefer?” he inquires, rubbing soothing circles along the boy’s back.

“Tell me a tale of ravenous demons and greedy humans with nothing but their soul left.”

Sebastian complies. “Once upon a time,” he starts, “there was a small child who was faced with much undue suffering. He prayed to the heavens for salvation, but the lord paid him no heed. In his last moments, just before his life was ended by the mindless cruelty so ubiquitous in humans, he managed to find enough strength to save himself.”

“And then?” Ciel prompts, comfortably nuzzling against his impending death.

“Then he met a demon, a demon so entranced by the beauty of the child’s unwavering persistence, by the sheer, raw strength of his will that he formed a contract with the boy, promising him his service and unending loyalty until the child fulfilled his ultimate desire,” Sebastian says, leaning closer to brush soft lips against Ciel’s brow.

“That's… a highly sanitized version,” Ciel remarks with a bitter laugh.

“Well, we wouldn’t want to spook the young master, now would we?” Sebastian replies with a chuckle, smoothing errant locks behind Ciel’s ear.

“…It was always so dark, back then. It makes me forget sometimes—”

“No one will ever hurt you again, young master, not for as long as I am here.” Sebastian interrupts with a harsh growl. “I would slaughter them all over again, were it possible.”

Something, maybe the way Sebastian’s gaze flashes red while he speaks the words, maybe the fact Sebastian can’t lie to him either way, maybe just whatever small part of childish naivety that month didn’t rob him of, makes Ciel believe him completely.

“You wouldn’t have a meal if it weren’t for them.” Ciel states plainly, wistfully running a hand along Sebastian’s jaw.

“True enough, but you are so much more than a simple meal, my young lord.”

“Is that so?” Ciel questions with an impish grin. “What am I then, Sebastian?”

“You are mine,” Sebastian says, as if stating a simple fact. He presses a kiss to the tip of his nose, “Mine to taint,” another to the corner of Ciel’s mouth, “mine to break,” yet another to the opposite corner, “and mine to care for, if I so choose.” Finally, he kisses the boy full on the mouth, feels the impossibly soft lips, and delights in the eager, albeit somewhat clumsily inexperienced, response he gets.

Just like every other touch Sebastian gives him on nights when the past refuses to stay buried beneath thick layers of maggot-infested dirt, the kiss helps him, grounds him, tells him that he still here, still alive. That—and not some base urge intensified by his pubescent mind—is why he responds eagerly, letting Sebastian thrust his tongue past his lips and explore the warmth inside.

They yearn for decidedly different things, the boy and the demon bound to him, but, at least to Ciel, the hunger in Sebastian’s eyes resembles his own need for something solid to clutch to more than ever. He understands, Ciel thinks, astounded. He knows, that’s why he…

“Stupid demon,” Ciel says the minute Sebastian’s mouth leaves his own, but, even to his own ears, it sounds much more like an endearment than an admonishment. And for once, he finds he doesn’t mind at all…

The butler doesn’t answer, simply looks at the boy some more.

“…thank you, Sebastian.”

“Am I to assume the young master is unwell?” Sebastian asks, pressing the back of his hand to Ciel’s brow.

“No, I feel quite well, as a matter of fact.” Ciel responds, a look of bewilderment settling on his countenance.

“I apologise, then, young master, but since you went as far as to openly display gratitude…”

“Bastard,” Ciel grouses.

“I humbly beg your pardon, my lord.” Sebastian chuckles, going back to rubbing mindless patterns along Ciel’s back.

After a spell, Ciel speaks again. “I don’t fear it, you know.”

Sebastian’s hands still. “Don’t fear what, young master?”

“The day you’ll take my soul.”

“Young master…”

“You wanted to, I could sense it.”

“I would never—”

Ciel reaches out, putting a hand where Sebastian’s heart resides. “I know,” he assures. “I know, Sebastian, don’t worry. And if anything, I’m glad that’s how my life will end.”

Sebastian smiles, and clasps Ciel’s hand. “I made a much better choice than I could’ve ever hoped for, all those years ago.”

“You saved me, all those years ago.”

Sebastian’s hand moves to softly caress the lid of Ciel’s right eye. “Not many would regard it as salvation, little one.”

“Not many would cling to a demon for comfort.” Ciel retorts with a mild flush that the demon can see clearly in spite of the dark.

“Indeed.”

And so, in the dark, framed by eerie shadows, in the arms of a ravenous beast, Ciel Phantomhive sleeps soundly.

… … … … … …

A/N: I really like this one.

If you want me to write a story for you, just send me an ask. (Nothing sexually explicit, though.)

Daydream vs. Fantasy

The typical daydream begins spontaneously and is experienced as an ongoing series of brief associated thoughts or images triggered by internal or external stimuli or cues and deals most often with current life concerns. In contrast the development of fantasy may be an elected pastime. It is more elaborate and continuous, composed of more pure imagination and directed at self amusement, pleasure, distraction and escape (Butler 2006).

6

Collide with the Sky: First and last lines of every song


chlometov  asked:

I'm going to be greedy and request several. Feel free to do as many or as few as you'd like! 1) Don't leave, 5) help, 15) trembling hands, 21) collapse, 24) tender, 42) savior

I did all of them, save for 24 since someone else has also requested it and I plan to respond to that one in the morning. Hope you’re okay with some minor nsfw content


1. don’t leave

Sebastian’s carmine eyes widened as he saw the fear reflected in his master’s single blue iris. The earl’s words were harsh and low, spoken through his teeth, his voice barely more than a whisper as he clung to his butler’s sleeve, “Do not leave me here.” Sebastian tilted his head and smiled down at his scowling master.
“My lord, Lady Elizabeth has traveled a great distance to surprise you, and it would be terribly rude of you to abandon her, especially after she went through all the trouble to plan this for you.” Ciel’s round face collapsed into a look of betrayal, and Sebastian’s smirk grew wider as he deftly removed Ciel’s hand from his arm and bowed low, leaving the dumbstruck noble and his fiancé to their tea party in the garden.


5. help

Ciel knew he shouldn’t be doing this; Sebastian had scolded him for climbing on furniture before, but he had no other options, and it felt as if time were running out. Sebastian was not in the room, and even if he was, Ciel was loath to ask the smarmy demon for help, especially with a trivial little task such at this. So the earl planted one foot on the bottommost shelf of the bookcase, latched a hand on the tallest one he could reach, and pulled himself up, hoping now he would be able to grasp the volume he was seeking. Unfortunately, that was not the case, for he felt his foot come out from underneath him as his free hand explored the spines of the books; his nails scoured the wood as he tried in vain to hold onto the shelf. The curse had not even finished leaving his lips when he felt himself being grabbed from behind, and he was not entirely surprised to see Sebastian looming over him, a single hand supporting his entire weight. A condescending tsk escaped the butler as he set his master down on his feet, “Climbing on furniture again, are we?” Sebastian reached a long arm up and effortlessly plucked the book from the shelf that the earl had been so desperate to collect by himself, causing Ciel’s scowl and the wound to his pride to deepen.


15. trembling hands

Sebastian could not have been more proud of his young master. No one could deny that Ciel Phantomhive had risen to the occasion, and was now a force to be reckoned with; he was calculating, and creative, and cold-hearted, though considerate enough to care for his estate and all its inhabitants. Gone were the days of his soft-spoken voice and trembling hands (though his fingers still wavered in the most endearing way when he went to undo the buttons of his butler’s shirt at night). No one would have suspected that he was not the one destined to assume the title, that he had not spent his formative years being carefully groomed to become an evil nobleman. No one would have known he was only supposed to be a spare.


21. collapse

“Se-Sebastian,” Ciel’s broken voice lilted through the air, heavy gasps sneaking in between his words as he felt like his lungs were going to collapse, “I can’t….”
The dutiful butler reached a hand up, brushing hair from his master’s ruddy face so he could read his expression clearly as he asked, “Shall we stop for tonight?”
“No,” came the surprisingly stern response, Ciel’s eyes hardening as he clenched his thighs around his servant and swiveled his hips, “I want to… I want to finish.”
That answer earned him a low, satisfying growl, and Ciel shivered as he felt sharp points of talons dig into his skin, a hedonistic smile on his servant’s face. He would keep going until he could no longer continue, until his body was completely spent and his legs were trembling from the force of his demon’s hips slamming into him over and over and over.
Sebastian saw the resolve in his young master’s eyes and perfunctorily replied, “As you wish.”


42. savior

Sebastian and Ciel could no longer see the forest for the trees; they were too preoccupied with their own little game to think about the macabre arrangement they had settled themselves into. They dealt with the day-to-day duties of an earl and the Queen’s watchdog, sharing a home and a family, their lifestyles inextricably bound. They lived as if they were not each other’s reason for living. As if Sebastian was not simultaneously Ciel’s salvation and his demise; his savior and his executioner. As if Ciel was not the pinnacle of contractees, the finest soul that Sebastian would ever consume, one that would cause every meal afterward to taste dull and bittersweet and make him long for the halcyon days of the Phantomhive manor.