Sorry I haven't updated in a while; tbh this year's been a whirl wind, what with my new job and my mom getting a divorce and going to court and just. blah. i feel like all I do is work and sleep and eat ice cream(bc i work in ice cream; there have been days where i literally eat nothing but desserts, and my mom looks to me and "you're literally complaining about eating ice cream all day" like. that's every child's dream.)

I also still occasionally get comments regarding 'shouldn't tabby be totally preggers and huge by now?' [im paraphrasing] so i did the math and: a full term is 40 weeks. starting from conception on december 14, charis' due date is September 20 in the kuroverse. It's currently February. Most first time mom's don't even start to show until five or six months, and they don't have the maternity corsets like tabby will.

Also, sorry for any errors. I rewrote a bit, but I have acrylic nails rn, which makes it difficult to type, and I'm tired, so i probably missed a few things.

Last time:

"I'm of the opinion you should stay away from Sebastian." His blue eye moved to fall on me, the color unusually cold. "You seem to forget he's a beast in human clothing."

As he returned to greeting the guests, my throat seemed to tighten and my heart thumped painfully. Did Ciel say that because of Sebastian's actions? Or because he was a demon?

And would he think the same about me?

TCTCTC

Despite the fact there were only a dozen or so guests, I was exhausted. George von Siemens, the banker and guest of honor; May, of course, the princess; Carl Woodley, the owner of a diamond company; Earl Grey, who I had absolutely no intentions of speaking to the entire weekend; Patrick Phelps, some executive trader for the Blue Star Line luxury ships; Lau and Ran Mao, of course; Grimsby Keane, the opera producer, and his date, Irene Diaz, the opera star; and finally, Arthur, the eye doctor, and Emmett, my friend.

Honestly, I was happy to finally take a seat next to Emmett, and not act with propriety or like a good Victorian girl, while everyone was chatting and being in awe of Irene.

"You know," Emmett started as I took a seat next to him, Arthur on his other side. "When you told me I looked like your butler, I assumed we shared a few features. Not like we shared the womb." A small smile twitched on my lips, helping to alleviate the exhaustion being social had caused. After a beat of silence, he continued.

"He's not actually my twin I had no knowledge of, right?"

"Nah, couldn't have." I answered, snorting softly. "There's a considerable age gap." If two thousand years could be categorized by the mere term considerable. That was an understatement if I had ever heard one.

I think Emmett took offense. "Hey, I turn twenty-one in June."

"Yeah," I conceded. "And Sebastian turns–" Two thousand, five hundred, fifty-five. "–twenty-seven."

"A six year difference isn't considerable." Arthur corrected from the other side of Emmett; oh, if only he knew. "But still," He continued, glancing at the butler. "The resemblance is uncanny. Do you have any siblings, Emmett?"

The man's face was deadpanned as he answered. "I have four brothers and a sister."

Holy fuck.

My gaze swiveled towards Sebastian, whose anger seemed to have greatly subsided; not that I took that at face value. Still if Emmett had five siblings, that meant Sebastian must have too when he was human.

Huh. I'd always taken Sebastian for an only child.

While I was stupefied by this newest piece of information –that Sebastian technically should have five other siblings– said demon appeared bearing drinks.

"Miss Constance?" I was immediately on my guard, glancing up at Sebastian. Just because I couldn't feel his murderous intent didn't mean it wasn't still there. He rotated the tray he held, displaying the one drink that was darker than the rest. "Your drink, nonalcoholic, per request."

Per his request, but I suppose that was why he didn't specify. But I wouldn't drink alcohol anyways, given the small person growing inside me. "Thank you, Sebastian." I took the offered drink with a small smile, hoping to get off the hook by being cute. If it worked, I wouldn't know, as my demon wandered off.

Both of the men I was sitting next to gazed at the demon as he walked away, dazed.

"Er…are you two alright?"

Emmett was the first one to blink out of stupor. "Can I be that handsome? I'd have money thrown at me."

I wasn't entirely certain what that was supposed to mean; however, I took it to mean being a popular sex worker.

The image it conjured was laughter inducing on a hysterical level, and I couldn't contain my peals of laughter in the slightest.

"Why are you laughing like a hyena, Tabby?"

Glancing up at Ciel, I waved him away. "Your guests are in awe of Sebastian's beauty. One, in particular–" I pressed my lips together to withhold my smile, failing horribly. "–is jealous."

Emmett however huffed in response, crossing his arms. "I can appreciate a handsome man." Another trait of being predisposed to be gay, I suppose. "It is, however, far more unnerving when said man is my near duplicate, and yet I'm not that handsome."

This poor man. "It's because you sulk. Be more confident." Emmett sputtered and blushed, while I snorted. "I'm going to go mingle with the guests I've ignored."

Emmett's sputter was cute. But far less attractive than anything Sebastian would've done.

TCTCTC

Irene smiled as I approached her at the banquet table; she was the safer option, given May might insist on me singing again. "Are you enjoying the evening, Irene?"

Man. She really was beautiful. The way she smiled and put her plate down, to give me her full attention –it made my knees weak to receive this woman's attention. In a completely, mostly platonic way. Probably platonic, anyways.

"I am. It's an honor to have been invited here by you and the Earl, given his aversion to such things."

Yeah, well, I'm sure it would be an honor when it turned into a murder party too. Not everyone got to play a game of real life Cluedo. "Truthfully, Irene, I'm afraid that invite was all Ciel." She blinked, confused. "I don't follow plays; in fact, I've never been, so I didn't know who you were."

Never let it said I wasn't honest; if a bit painfully blunt.

Surprise lined the young woman's face, and I was thankful to find she wasn't insulted, but instead smiled. "If it makes you feel any better, I didn't know what you looked like. I had deduced who you were as you walked down the stairs."

I snorted. Deduced. "Elementary, my dear Watson."

Another jolt of surprise flashed across her face. "Oh, you've read A Study in Scarlet?" I blinked. I hadn't read it, but I'd watched the blasted show enough. Speaking of the show, I just remembered I forgot to steal an ashtray from the palace.

Damn it.

"Is that why you were talking to that gentleman there?"

My confusion was palpable; which gentleman? Why would they even have any to do with Sherlock? "I don't understand."

Irene slyly pointed out Arthur with her fan, who was having a conversation with Ciel. "Girmsby and I spoke to him ten minutes ago. He wrote A Study in Scarlet."

…pardon?

What was it Arthur had said? "I'm an oculist, with a bit of writing on the side."

Arthur. Arthur Conan Doyle. Oh my god. Lau and I had teased the author of Sherlock Holmes. I had made friends with Arthur Conan Doyle. The author of the most famous character that's ever existed.

"You're shitting me."

The soft bark of laughter was distinctly unladylike for Irene, but given my distinctly unladylike sentence, I wouldn't hold it against her. "I assume then, his invitation was also a result of the Earl?"

Well damn. Ciel had invited Arthur fucking Conan Doyle and didn't tell me. What the fuck.

"Think if I flirt he'll give me his signature?" Man. That would be worth money one day.

"I t'ink if you flirt wi' anybody, they'd give you their life savin's."

The rough, deeper, manly drunken slur startled me, and my head swiveled past Irene to the guest of honor, Georg von Siemens. A man who would be dead by tomorrow morning.

Whoa. The rush of guilt made my knees weak.

"Ah, you think so?" I replied, if a bit awkwardly. Just because I felt guilty of knowing this man's death, didn't mean I appreciated his personality. And since it wasn't socially acceptable to just walk off –at least, I didn't think it was –that meant I had to humor him. "I think it would require a bit more than flirting." Like spreading my legs, for example. "And I'd really rather not be a scarlet letter."

Irene's eyes lit up at my reference to another novel, but I was suddenly unable to pay attention to anything but the hand on my ribcage, fingers far too close to my breasts for comfort. "I t'ink ya'd fin' being a scarle' letter t' be ravishing." Was that a pun? It was a pun, wasn't it. Truthfully, I was a bit too uncomfortable to react to the pun in a sufficient manner, instead stepping away and resisting the urge to hold my girls protectively.

"I'd really rather you didn't touch me so intimately." Only one person had that allowance, and I hadn't even been letting him lately.

And funnily enough, the guilt I'd felt earlier was ebbing away at a furious pace.

"Now, now," Georg huffed, while Patrick Phelps had spotted him having a go at me, and was walking over looking worried. Though, I was surprised; I had gotten the impression he wasn't much a man of conflict. "Ya should follow Miss Irene's example." He loosely held Irene around the shoulders, fingertips skimming the top of her breasts. The poor woman had stiffened, dumbfounded at the brazen and drunk man. "Rumor has it she's quite t'e scarle' letter. T'e whole alphabet, if rumor is t' be believed."

He was literally calling Irene a whore. What a-

The guilt was now a soft, burning fury, wondering if Georg von Siemens could die any sooner. Like, now.

Irene suddenly jerked out from under his arm, wrapping her arms over her breasts protectively. "Please stop that! You insist on laying your lecherous hands on me while daring to say such slanderous things, and I can't stand it!"

Wooh. Go Irene. Girl power.

"Wha' was that?" Siemens sneered out, looking down his nose at the actress. "T'e one gaddin' 'bout in clothes like that is t'e one in the wrong."

My mind seemed to slow, recognizing the same sort of phrase from my time. 'She shouldn't have dressed like that if she wasn't asking for it.' It was literally the same thing.

Men really hadn't changed in a century.

Disgusting.

My eyes burned in more than just anger, illuminating pink as I watched from under my lashes as Irene sent the man to the floor with the sharp crack of a slap. Instead of guilt, or even mere apathy, there was a burning loathing in my chest. This man will be dead by morning.

Morning couldn't come soon enough. I wondered if I could hurry it along by punching him so hard it would shove his nose into his skull. Was that possible? I hoped so. I wanted to test it.

So caught up in my thoughts, and the vivid, bloody picture I had painted in my mind's eye, I didn't even notice Siemens toss his beer at Irene –and me, by extension– until Ciel had stepped up and intervened, getting doused in the alcohol instead. In surprise, I could feel my eyes lose their clarity, as if a thin film had been laid over my eyes. It was probably for the best; lord knows how any of the guests- or heaven help me, Ciel- saw them.

"My Lord!" echoed throughout the room from the various guests, while Ciel used a sleeve to brush off his eye.

"This is a banquet." His voice was calm, though it seemed…resigned. Poor boy. He probably couldn't wait for him to die too. "Please do try to restrain yourselves and leave it at that for the evening."

Siemens got back up, looking thoroughly chastised by a thirteen year old boy, while Irene nodded in understanding and thanks.

One other, however, did not seem to be appeased. Other than me, at least. I still wanted to shove his nose into his brain.

"You dirty old codger!" Heads swiveled towards Grimsby, as he grabbed a bottle of wine from an ice cooler. "Don't you dare touch my woman-" Here's the wind up… "–as you please!"

And there's the throw! What a fabulous spin Grimsby accomplished when launching the wine bottle! It's getting closer –it looks as if it'll be a direct hit–!

My ecstatic commentary came to an abrupt end as a black blur plucked the bottle right out of the air, flipping and landing on a ladder I wasn't entirely sure had been there a few seconds ago, pouring the wine into a champagne tree I was definitely sure wasn't there a few seconds ago.

Damn demon just had to go and ruin my fun, didn't he?

TCTCTC

While drinks were passed out –which Maylene had been instructed to do, God save us all –May came up to the two of us, her tone worried. "You're both alright?"

I waved her off. "Yeah, we didn't have a bottle of wine launched at our heads."

That only seemed to frazzle Irene though. "Where is your butler?" The blonde twisted her head, searching for the black haired demon. "I'd like to thank him for what he did. If that bottle had actually hit Mr. Siemens, there's no telling how bad the repercussions could've been, for both Grimsby and I."

Ah. I hadn't even thought of that. It would be bad for Ciel as well; it would've caused his meticulous planning to be for naught, if Siemens had died before he was supposed to. Or if he had needed to go to the hospital.

Hmm. I guess I could forgive the demon for ruining my fun then. "I think Sebastian went off to get a towel for Ciel." I couldn't spy the butler either, though Ciel was taking off his jacket and laying it on a chair. Glancing back at the ladies, I gave a small wave. "I'm going to check on Ciel."

I strode across the room, earning Ciel's glance and a raised eyebrow. "What is it, Tabby?"

"Well, I had to come see if you were okay."

This time he rolled his lone visible blue eye. "Of course I am. I was simply splashed with beer, not poison."

Well no, but still. Knock on wood. "Don't be saying such things out loud. You'll give your enemies ideas."

A snort caused me to move my gaze, falling on Sebastian who held a towel and had appeared as silent as the grave. "Such a thing to say, Miss Constance. That would imply the young master has enemies."

Right. Of course. Emmett and Arthur were four feet away. "Well, he's not going to make friends stuck to a wall wearing a dour expression."

My claim wasn't disputed by either male, though Ciel did glare at it. The glare wasn't nearly as menacing as it could have been however, as Sebastian had wrapped the fluffy towel over his head. Two scoffs of repressed laughter was met with my claim though, as if to further Ciel's irritation.

Good. I was funny. And I had managed a joke out of my ill-timed enemies comment.

You done good, Tabby.

Once the two started speaking French however, I turned away. Sebastian was slowly but surely trying to teach me the language, as Alexia had known it and he hypothesized I would be able to too, and I was slowly but surely picking it up, but I had absolutely no intention of making a lesson out of the conversation. Instead, I fled before Sebastian could give me a pop quiz on what was said, spinning to join Emmett and Arthur.

"So, did you two gentlemen enjoy the show?"

Emmett quirked a grin at me, while Arthur seemed to be eavesdropping in on the French conversation my boys were having.

"It was amusing." Sebastian's doppleganger replied; and it was more than a little disorienting, looking at one Sebastian and hearing the other one behind me.

That suddenly brought up a series of highly inappropriate thoughts –imagine, two Sebastians –and I had to squash them before I lit up like Rudolph's nose.

A burst of laughter escaped from Arthur and drew Ciel's attention. Vaguely, I wondered what he had said that was so funny–

But then the boy did the dorkiest thing ever and pressed a finger to his lips in the shushing motion.

I pointedly turned my head to laugh while Arthur looked a bit flabbergasted and Emmett star struck.

"You know, Miss Idiot," I choked at what Emmett called me, glaring while Sebastian and Ciel wandered off. "Your brother is rather cute."

Oh. Oh my god. I choked. They're soulmates, of course he'd find him cute. But I definitely didn't want to hear about it, when one of them wore my mate's face.

Especially when my brother was thirteen years old.

"Oi. Keep your eyes to yourself." Man, being the older sibling was weird. Maverick had threatened plenty of boys before, but I'd never had to threaten his girlfriends to treat him right. "He's thirteen. I wouldn't care if you wanted to date him and he was older, like twenty-" I was a hypocrite, but I never said I wasn't. Probably. "I wouldn't mind. So you'll have to wait seven years."

This time, it was Emmett who choked, and was redder than a firetruck. "Wha –No –I'm not a lavender aunt –that's illegal, first of all–"

I rolled my eyes, and waved it off. "Give it a few decades and you'll be fine." Like, nine decades, but still. "Besides, I can think of one famous person who's gay."

Arthur blinked, as did Emmett. "Gay?"

Oh. Right. Sebastian had been confused too. "Homosexual. Lavender aunt. Batting for the same gender."

They were still befuddled by why I used a synonym for a man whore, but left it at that. Both stayed silent, for a moment, before curiosity got the better of the Sherlock writer.

"So…who?"

I gave him a look. "I'm not telling. It would be rude, after all. About as rude as you not telling me you're the creator of Sherlock bloody Holmes."

Arthur blinked once more, painfully confused. "I am, but what has that to do with anything?"

I jumped out of my seat, throwing my hands in the air. "Oh, hi, I'm Arthur. I'm an oculist with a bit of writing on the side. I'm not going to mention I'm Arthur bleeding Conan Doyle, the creator of the most famous character that's ever existed."

His mouth flapped for a moment, while I huffed and flopped back in my seat, obviously pouting. Emmett looked on my display with a rather amused expression.

"The most famous –whatever are you talking about, my lady?"

God damn it, knowledge of the future. "Just –trust me, okay. Give it five years and everyone will love Sherlock Holmes."

The author in question seemed to pout. "But I don't even like Sherlock Holmes."

I was going to take this man and throw him into a wall. Instead, I held my face in my hands. Arthur Conan Doyle…didn't even like his own character. His most well known character. The most well known character. The character that had had a dozen incarnations in the one century they existed.

I felt like crying.

Groaning instead, I looked around the room, and spotted Irene.

"Out of curiosity, do you like the name Irene, Arthur?"

My change in topic must have been disorienting. "I suppose? Why?"

Oh, nothing. Just that you eventually have a character named Irene. "No reason."

Overall, I don't think I made that great an impression on Arthur Conan Doyle. Pity. I suppose that was why I was never featured in the story.

"By the way, I'm getting your autograph tomorrow. And a picture with you."

It definitely wasn't the best impression I could have made. I didn't know if Emmett was laughing at my plight, or his friend's confusion, but at least someone was amused.

TCTCTC

The banquet, afterwards, was pretty boring. There were no more fights breaking out, Ciel wasn't abducted, no one was trying to abduct Ciel–

I sighed loudly, resting my head on my arms that I'd laid on the table.

"Tabby?" My gaze lifted to look to May, who had stepped over with Patrick Phelps; they must have been talking. "Is something the matter?"

Seeing as the two of them decided to sit down, I realized I had to give in to decorum, and sit up right. "I'm fine. It's simply not as exciting anymore, what with no one being slapped and no wine bottles flying through the air."

May seemed amused, but poor Phelps looked as if he might have a heart attack. "I –I don't think I could handle that much excitement for a second time tonight."

Honestly? I doubted he could too.

"B-besides, being in the same room as the K- Kong Rong branch manager is difficult enough as it is."

I blinked at that. Kong Rong was Lau's day job, wasn't it? "Lau? Why?"

May looked mildly interested as well, while Phelps looked like he regretted bring the topic up. "Oh, well, I don't want to say anything bad about my Lord and Lady's guest–"

I brushed it off, grabbing my apple juice for a sip. "It's fine. I have a running inner commentary of insults whenever I talk to him."

To my amusement, the blond heir looked both humored and horrified in the same breath. "Ah– it's just– he–" Oh dear, he was worse than Maylene. "K-Kong Rong is the cover organization for the Shanghai Crime Syndicate."

I spat my drink out, immediately grabbing a napkin and dabbing at the juice that had dripped down my chin. "I– what–"

My reaction worked well for what I was told; Phelps and May thought I was reacting to the news of Lau being a mafia member, rather than the fact Patrick Phelps had known Lau was part of the Chinese Mafia.

At least he only thought he was a member and not the head.

"That –uh –wow. Okay. I'm really sorry about my reaction." I had grabbed a few looks from the various guests; after all, spit takes weren't exactly common.

Still. Phelps knew what Lau was.

That was worrying.

"Have you mentioned this to anyone else?"

He looked surprised, but shook his head. "N-no, I worried that might look bad on the Earl."

That was my worry as well; at least he hadn't told anyone. And given his personality, he likely wouldn't as to not cause trouble. "I appreciate it. I'll let Ciel known. It'll probably be best to tell him after Lau leaves tomorrow."

Phelps nodded and made some excuse in an effort to leave the table, while May stayed silent for a few seconds.

"You weren't surprised, were you?"

I almost had another spit take. "Sorry? I assure you, that was an authentic spit take."

May gave me a soft smile. "I am a princess, Tabby. And her majesty is very fond of me; she recently asked my opinion on wedding one of her grandsons."

Ah. "So what do you know?"

"I know things are not exactly as they seem. That it is far better for the many if the secrets of the few are covered up."

That was a delicate way of putting it. "Mmm. Do you mind if I use that quote should there ever be a time I need to defend what we do?"

A laugh burst out of the girl, who quickly covered her mouth. "Quite; I'd be honored if you did." Her laughter petered out, and ventured to another topic that was equally as dangerous.

"Is that why you refuse to sing? After all, attention like that is not good in your line of work."

My head made a thud as it came in contact with the table.

Tbh i rly love patrick phelps. rip the social anxiety baby.

also i just watched Book of Atlantic and? what shit? animation quality is that? like literally they speak and their mouths move bUT THEIR JAWS DONT? pls im so disappointed. and it skipped so many scenes, even tho BoC and even BoM had great manga to anime scenes that they nailed. rip boa.

(AND? TWO CIEL THEORY CONFIRMED tbh im thinking about finishing with the manga instead of the anime bc of this. and bc i love wolfram.)

idk when I'm gonna update the next chapter; a lot of it is written, but idk if i want tabby and sebastian to just get along with tabby verbally admitting she forgives him, or physically by letting sebs seduce her with a kabe-don. (winkwink this is what i have originally written.) I also have tabby originally written as she ends up rooming with Irene, but I'm thinking about changing it to someone else for the plot.

Oh well. night ya'll.