[it’s taking just about everything he has to keep some semblance of composure. brushing his hair over his eye as inconspicuously as he can— he’ll probably ask hoda to help him tie his eyepatch once more once they’re safely outside. mostly feels rotten because he feels humiliated, like he shouldn’t be seen like this.] 


[making a little ‘tch’ noise as they move up the stairs.] What kind of museum has a decaying corpse in its basement? [sorry about him, hoda. he’s upset and spooked and this is the only way he can look like he’s still in control of what’s been happening, by being rude and abrasive.] I’d like that, thank you.

[not really focusing on you beyond making sure you’re okay, Ciel. push push. focusing on making sure his boots don’t go through the floor. the stairs are rickety, and his books have 10kg weights in them. can’t quite answer your question about the corpse, though.]

Sure, then we will, that’s no issue. [casting about on the wall to press the section that’ll move the statue aside so they can get out, but he might be too low down.] Sorry to ask, saa— can you press that section of wall right there? On your right.

reblogged from phantomknob (originally hodamitsuhiro)
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[definitely smaller. ciel is so short, mun is laughing. he’ll get a growth spurt sooner or later. he doesn’t look all that comfortable with the contact-comfort, at least with his facial expression, but he’s not yet pulling himself away. yet.]

[now he is.] I’m— I can walk on my own. [no, you can’t. he sways and staggers, attempting to catch himself, and ends up falling back into hoda’s grasp. much too proud to admit that he needs help, though, so just making a sighing noise and allowing hoda to support him. fumbling for the little fabric eyepatch that he was wearing, intending to put it on where there was more light to do so.] That corpse is long dead. It’s already rotting, look. [closing his working eye with an exasperated sigh.] I wouldn’t worry about it.

[thinking privately that you look like a kid who doesn’t like what’s on offer for dinner, but keeping that thought to himself. catching you handily, making sure the jacket is around you.]

[easily] Sure, sure. [just letting you say that, but continuing to support you. obviously letting you keep your pride. not going to say a word about the corpse and how weird it looks in his spirit sight, though. if you can’t see what he sees, less trouble for him.] ‘Course you wouldn’t. [getting you up the stairs, mostly propelling you.] Let’s get you out in the sunshine. [where you’ll be able to see his face properly, too.] ‘N you can sit for a bit.

reblogged from phantomknob (originally hodamitsuhiro)
tagged #replies #ciel
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[has been calling for the last five hours he’s been down here, and now his throat is hoarse. he’s used to being kidnapped, held for ransom, compromised, mistreated, abused—- but not used to not having that comforting feeling of knowing that his butler will be able to save him. besides, this is much too similar a situation for him. he wasn’t the one strapped to the table, he was in the cage— but his pulse was going and his eyesight blackening in panic by the time he heard heavy footsteps.]

[trying to recompose himself. he’s a noble, he’s powerful and rich and influential, and it would not do for him to be seen a shrieking, panicking chit of a boy. still, that eye still does reflect panic; his eyepatch has come loose, he notes, as the ribbon has untied itself and the patch having slid down his face to brush at his nose. this leaves half of his eye uncovered, revealing the horrific, disfiguring burns on the right-hand side of his face that left him half-blind.]

They sent you down here? [sounds a little choked, hoarse. silently cursing how weak he sounds, but his vision’s still flickering, and he refuses to look into the more shadowy areas of the room.] Given that they were responsible for my being down here, forgive me if I don’t seem all that grateful. [concentrating on keeping his voice level. not meeting hoda’s face.]

[has a not-unpleasant laugh. his hands helping you sit up are gentle. noting those burns, but not saying anything about them. staying kind of close, because he’s thinking you might need the contact-comfort. he’s Fifth Sector raised, too. And you’re as little as teammate Seidou. smaller, even.]

Alright, alright. Nah, ‘s something else. This shit’s creepy, you can thank me if you want after we get outta here. [going to carefully help you down off the table, supporting most of your weight.] Can you walk, or want me to carry you…? [peeling out of his leather jacket belatedly, wrapping it around you. would try to screen the corpse from your vision, but he’s so lanky it wouldn’t do much good.]

reblogged from phantomknob (originally hodamitsuhiro)
tagged #replies #ciel
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[dashing down to the basement. weighted boots making a heavy thud. it took a sec to get additional directions out of weird desk guy, and he’s having to use his Sight a bit, but— whatever. You’re probably yelling.]

[taking a miraculous left turn into the correct room, not spending too long looking around. that is a dead body, what the shit.] Eyy, fuck— [first things first. you are tied to a table.] Hold on, let’s get you— out—

[those restraints aren’t strong, but he doesn’t need to use his strong feet to break them. he just needs his hands. he’s not as soothing as some, but he’ll do. humming as best he can. jesus christ on a fuckstick, you are tiny.] You must be Ciel Phantomhive, sou ka. They gave me your name and told me you were— [head swinging up at the corpse, voice turning sharp] I’m supposed to be here, thanks—

[shaking head and redoubling his efforts, chafing at your wrists and ankles as he undoes each one.] Let’s get you out’ve here.

tagged #ciel
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hodamitsuhiro - [perches crown on his head and gives a cocky little bow.] Haa, sankyuu. The Eggsquire'd like to make another purchase, if that's alright-- Uh-- [digging in his pocket. miraculously, 1666 mangoes.] Sorry for the trouble.


Oh? It seems like you have a package waiting for you in the basement. We swear on our honor, no strings attached. 

The package’s name is Ciel Phantomhive. You’ll see he’s in Eggcellent condition, though he is rather spooked. Try not to scar him further. 

reblogged from toshimuseum (originally toshimuseum)
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[your phone buzzes with three messages in quick succession.]

To: ????

rave doesn’t check ID meet you there?

oh sorry yo wrong #

but if that’s your thing yw see you there man

Message sent



Perhaps the people Hidenori respected the most were those people who preformed out on the streets. There was never the promise of an audience or pay, yet they continued to perform their hearts out because they simply enjoyed doing so. Such a free life, and he did his best to support these people as best he could.

…As long as it wasn’t financial support. He was a part of two gangs and the mafia and had a part time job, but owning two mansions takes a lot out of anyone’s wallet. 

So now he stood audience to one performer, one playing his guitar with an almost serene expression. 


"Ah, anything is good for me, really." 

[well, that’s certainly a…. strange expression. not commenting on it, though. maybe you just really like music. but hoda’s not the type to be worried overmuch. bending back to his guitar for a little longer, but a thought striking him.]

Haa, oi oi. [addressing you, clearly.] Can you sing…?

reblogged from idiotglasses (originally hodamitsuhiro)
+ 4

[it’s been super quiet in his little corner of town— religiously deleting multiple gang application offers aside. eesh, do people ever not know when to quit asking. he’s got enough on his plate with the new place in the works, not to mention trying not to fail history.]

[but that kind of stuff takes time, and waiting around doing nothing— well, he /can do it, but it’s not exactly exciting. giving a shrug, taking himself downtown, catching up his guitar. busking never hurt anybody, and it’s good to keep in practice.]

[going to take a slouchy seat in the shopping district, getting straight into playing. knows what he’s doing, at least, for all he’s playing only to please himself— swapping idly from a noodling of Vivaldi straight into the Gatchaman theme song.]

[noting a presence, though, quirking a nonexistent brow as he looks up at you.] Haa, request?

+ 4


She’s been sized up before, of course, so she knows the look well. In her past, she was often looked at like this… Mostly because people would not believe her presence in the group of people she hung around. Back in Kirkwall, Hawke’s gang had never been known as a rather hardened group… So needless to say, they were surprised when they showed up with Merrill in tow.


"Ah, I wouldn’t make you cut your hair! You’ve obviously grown it out for a reason, and it’s not really getting in anyone’s way… Well, unless you spin around, of course." she paused, then, a little confused by his mixed Japanese and English.

"Please, don’t feel the need to go cry in the washroom. If you need somewhere to cry, it should be a little more comfortable. I can lend you the couch in the history office for that." she responded after a moment with a wave of her hand.

[well, at least you don’t seem phased by it, and he accepts that with a bit of a nod. sensei’s pretty cool, huh? looking quite pleased when you say he doesn’t have to cut his hair off, though. nods, casting those sharp eyes down momentarily. there’s a reason, yes, though he wouldn’t elucidate it.]

[looking mildly surprised when you make that joke, but it does make him smirk, lips curling up again— he definitely thinks you’re funny, Merrill.] Naa naa, Tea~cherr~, wouldn’t be good to get tear stains all over that, sou ka? Unless that’s a common thing.

reblogged from mirrorrshard (originally hodamitsuhiro)
tagged #replies #merrill
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A grin started to form on her face. Sure, he looked a little embarrassed, but that could be fixed easily. Merrill made it her mantra that every student would feel comfortable in her classroom, and that she would try to tailor her curriculum to every child as best as she could. Although, she was still rather uncomfortable here. Maybe it was because everyone was calling her “sensei”.


"Maybe you should tie your hair up in a bun or under a hat. That way when you spin like that you won’t hurt anyone." she mused, a bit of a laugh to her voice. "And yes, of course that’s so! A teacher should never try to make their students cry, although if that’s what you expect from this class I suppose I should try to meet expectations."

[looks a little surprised when you grin— he’s definitely not used to teachers like you, Merrill. his have had, shall we say, more… ambiguous morality. it’s a very honest expression, though it does vanish rather quickly. you’d probably get the sense that he’s gauging you, though, the same way one would size up a predator. sharp black eyes noting that discomfort, too. is that eyeliner he’s wearing, emphasizing that sharp curve? either way, it definitely seems like he doesn’t miss much.]

[just slouching with studied casualness, shoving his hands in his pockets as he listens to you muse— despite that casual posture, his eyes are definitely awake, flicking intelligently to your face and away again as you talk.] Haa, so long ‘s I don’t haveta cut it, I guess I’m okay. [sharp eyes flicking to your face again.] I dunno if I can wear a hat in school though.

[brows jumping again when you say that about teachers, though he does glance down a little so his politely incredulous expression isn’t as visible. it wouldn’t do to be rude.] Haa, sou ka. [waving a hand, lazily, at that last part, glancing up again] Naa naa, Teacher, you don’t haveta. I’ll try to keep all my crying to the little men’s room, promise. [lips actually curling up into a little smile. he has to struggle to turn it into his customary lazy smirk.]

reblogged from mirrorrshard (originally hodamitsuhiro)
+ 6