It's a Lengthy Exposition on Making Visual Things

found old fanfic drafts

"No but really Vincent,"

DADDY ISSUES

"I saw your porn on the internet," Alois said. 

"You're not even eighteen," Vincent said. 

"I don't kiss and tell." 

"Ciel why can't you make a normal friend that doesn't have over active hormones and a daddy fetish?" 

"Because I was raised by a man who does porn as a hobby," Ciel said. 

"Touche," Vincent said as he picked up Ciel's computer. It weighed two, maybe three pounds. He lifted it with one hand, jostling it a bit to get an idea of what its center of gravity was. He then threw it out the open window of Ciel's bedroom. Ciel and Alois stared at him with a sense of horror, as would any teenagers who just saw a grown man throw a perfectly fine (and extremely expensive) computer out of a second story window. The laptop had soared through the second floor bedroom window, and landed firmly within the windshield of Vincent's car. Which then let off a loud blaring car alarm in response. 

"Oh shit," Vincent said, looking down. He turned back around to face Alois. 

"You did this."

It's not really a good thing

He used to think that anything was better than being alone. This was 'anything'. It was not better than being alone. 

"Hold out your hand," Ciel tells him and Alois reaches out a quivering hand. His skin is beautiful, he's like a fragile little porcelain doll and his nails are painted pretty pale pink with holographic heart shaped glitter. Ciel takes out a pair of pliers and Alois knows what he's going to do with them.

One, two, three, four, five, pink laquered nails sit in a pile of blood that stains everything and Alois holds out his other hand. He knows that Ciel was going to ask for it anyways, he might as well be compliant. One, two, three, four, five sobs later and Ciel keeps Alois's fingernails in a plastic sandwich baggie that is full of designer nail polish, keratin, and blood. Alois's head is laid against the egyptian cotton pillow which is cool and soft to the touch of his hot, red face. He recalls getting hit a few more times but everything is fuzzy and he blacks out into a death-like slumber. 

Alois wakes up on his own and he has a pounding headache not unlike a hangover, but thankfully, nothing else hurts. Which honestly, makes him just a little unnerved, because he recalls being beaten, raped, whipped, raped, stabbed, and beaten some more, and then raped some more, because really, at this point it's not like they wanted him alive anymore

. He looks at his nails, which he still has, even though he knows Ciel ripped them off one by one last night. He isn't bruised, and his ass doesn't hurt though he knows all three of those bastards had their way with him and none of them were gentle about it. Actually, all things considered, Alois is a little hungry, has a headache but over all, he's not hurt or anything. 

And there is something very

very

very

wrong

here. 

"There are fates worse than death, you will experience all of them," Ciel tells him. There is no other introduction, no 'good morning alois' and there's definitely no, 'I'm sorry for raping you and ripping out your finger nails, alois'.  Alois doesn't know a lot of things, but he feels like knowing won't help him very much. Ciel walks into the bedroom like he owns place, which he does, but he doesn't seem to care to give Alois warning or time to cover himself. Or to knock the door. Alois knows that Ciel has already seen every part of him, and some how, he still feels ashamed and embarrassed about it. Even though, really, it wasn't his fault at all. 

Alois closes his eyes and he doesn't know what to expect but he knows it's going to be awful. Ciel sits on the bed nice to him and he isn't holding anything sharp. he gets little ideas here and there about what Ciel will do, and most of them are just so terrible that they probably will happen. 

"I will be completely honest with you, if only because you've exhausted all of your chances to run away from me previously. You were too stupid to guess that all my little jokes about really being over a century old weren't jokes. You were too stupid to tell the difference between me and Vincent impersonating me, and you were so stupid you thought I meant it every time I said I loved you. Which actually, that last one is true, I do love you," Ciel told him. He ran his perfectly manicured black pointy finger nails up Alois's thigh. Just barely hovering, not even to make even a mark, but just enough to make all the hairs on his legs stand up and make Alois quiver and shake. 

"But I only love parts of you."

"It's a damn good thing I own a bone saw."

LADY KILLER

Hannah was sitting in the kitchen of her house, it was her day off from work, and she was enjoying a book and a martini when the door bell rang. It was the postal man, who handed her a heavy, large cardbard box almost entirely wrapped with packing tape. She signed for it, though she had no idea what it was. It was a brown cardboard box, addressed to her address, but no name, in scribbly handwriting. Return address? Somewhere in England. It was really heavy, yet had no fragile stickers put on it. The postage label said it cost a small fortune to ship all the way to southern california. It was her first thought to wait for Alois to get home before touching it, or to check to make sure it was really meant to be there. She after all, wanted to respect his privacy, he was almost eighteen years old, and he was enough of a man to get mail without his mother checking through it. Still, she worried about it. Wouldn't he tell her if he was expecting mail? He usually did. 

Did Alois order something on the internet? Did Alois's boyfriend send him something? Something metal rattled inside. Why such a large box? Why metal? Hannah had to know. She set the box on the kitchen counter, then found the boxcutter. She slices open the packing tape. It was filled with crumpled news papers. She set them aside and reached into the box and pulled out a pair of metal handcuffs. This is what made that metal clanging sound. Handcuffs. Not the toy variety, either. They looked like police grade hand cuffs. And rope. And several other things which Hannah did not want to think about.

Oh no. OH HEEELLL NO.  That boy is getting a stern talking to when he gets home from classes. handcuffs? On her baby? Nope. She was fuming. She had half a mind to send Alois a text message to come home right now, she doesn't care if he's busy at work, he's to get his ass here this very instant if he has half a mind to know what is god for him. But the door bell rings, again, thankfully, for Alois's sake, it's not him, but a distinguished looking gentleman in a suit. 

"Excuse me," he said. He was tall, and handsome, with brown hair. He was a bit intimidating but he had he kind of charm that any man with a lot of power would have even with his placid expression. What Hannah assumed as being his black convertible was parked by the house next door. The one with the 'for sale' sign in front of it. 

"My family moved here yesterday, and we had some of our personal belongings sent through the mail and I may have mistakenly wrote down the wrong address on one of them because I was a in rush. I was wondering if you by chance, have received any of my things. The return address should be from London," he said. Hannah's mind clicked. In a second she was relieved that her son was still pure of mind, but immediately suspicious of this man. This man landed right on her to-be-wary list. He set Hannah's motherly protective instinct off, and she was quite unhappy that he would be living next door to them. He spoke like he was bothered by the situation. Like he wanted to get out of this situation as soon as possible. Like he was doing something suspicious. 

"Was it a box of hand cuffs and rope?" Hannah asked, her tone was a bit stern. 

"Yes," he replied hesitantly. He looked away from her, clearly put off by the situation. 

Foreign accent, likely european? Check. Polished and polite exterior? Check. Handsome, even charming? Check. An entire box full of hand cuffs, ropes, and things Hannah did not even want to think about? Check. Hannibal Lecter had officially moved into the house next door. 
"Oh my god, he's a serial killer," Hannah muttered quietly to herself after she closed the door.