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Fanfiction: "Yes, My Lady" ch3Chapter 3: Crème de la crème (The best of the best)
"Oh my! Is that the Earl Phantomhive?"
"Such disgrace! To involve himself in such an act."
"It would probably be better if I do not trade with his company any further."
"Who would have thought that the young earl was into those kinds of hobbies?"
Ciel looked around him in disbelief. He felt helpless as everyone shot him glares of utter disgust. The humiliation overwhelmed the child as he avoided their criticizing gazes and clasped his hands over his ears. Sebastian!
The young earl shut his eyes tight, blinding and deafening himself from the mockery that has befallen him.
"—aster…!" No more. Just get away from me!
"…Young Master!" He felt a hand grab his arm. Ciel, by reflex, immediately wrenched it away from the stranger's grasp. "Go away!" He cried out.
"Young Master! Please wake up!" Sebastian? The earl's eyes shot wide open as he came face to fac
Fanfiction: "Yes, My Lady" ch2Chapter 2: Bonbon (Candy)
"Un… Deux… Trois… Un… Deux… Trois— Young Master, I wish to inform you that that was my foot you've just stepped on. Un… Deux… Trois…" Sebastian counted— and kept reminding Ciel about his foot— while the two of them began the young earl's dancing lessons. Ciel would stumble down here and there from time to time and Sebastian would just shook his head and help the boy back up before they continue on with the routine.
As today's dance lesson almost reached the end, Ciel collapsed on the floor, exhausted. "No more!" He cried out, breathing out one big sigh. Sebastian slightly frowned at his master's lack of motivation. "Young Master, we have less than a week to prepare. It would be quite embarrassing for such a pretty young lady if she doesn't even know how to dance well." Ciel's cheeks turned a bright shade of pink as his butler mentioned the word pretty. Did S
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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