#ciel whump

[goodwhump-temp]

Ciel Phantomhive Whump | Black Butler

Black Butler

Ep.02 - Drugged, kidnapped, beaten (offscreen), punched x2, gutpunched, unconscious, hostage, held at gunpoint x3, carried Ep.03 - Angry, trauma (20:50) Ep.04 - Scared (06:25), freaking out (13:00), exhausted (15:00), drugged, unconscious, auctioned Ep.05 - Traumatized, hyperventilating, held, arm sliced, choked Ep.06 - Collapse JUKED (11:40), choked (18:55) Ep.07 - Chained Ep.09 - Nearly crushed by statue, held (17:20) Ep.10 - Freaked out (11:50), thrown Ep.11 - Manhandled, birthday trauma, [flashback; branded (05:00)], choked, taunted Ep.12 - [Flashback; Missing, eye bandaged, depressed], carried, held (11:05), tortured flashback (16:30) Ep.13 - Grabbed x2 (04:30, 08:40), vital point hit (11:58) Ep.14 - Trauma (09:30) Ep.16 - Disrespected x1000 Ep.17 - Trauma (10:40, 20:20), snatched Ep.18 - Tortured/reliving trauma x3, unconscious (08:25), anguish (10:50) Ep.19 - Held at gunpoint Ep.20 - Carried (16:30), nearly stabbed (19:30) Ep.21 - Depressed, protected/distracted (adorable) Ep.22 - Hell flashback (14:40), abandoned Ep.23 - Tackled, shot, carried Ep.24 - Bandaged, consumed by the mist, bleeding out, hanging, large fall, unconscious, dead

Black Butler II

Ep.01 - Encased Ep.02 - Drowning, unconscious Ep.03 - Trauma (05:05), tackled (11:50), knocked against wall from explosion (15:25) Ep.04 - Restrained (13:20), hostage, carried x2 Ep.05 - Amnesia reveal, trauma (04:30), freaking out (06:05, 09:20, 16:05), headaches x2, collapse Ep.06 - Sound attack (05:50), pain, [Flashback; Unconscious/soulless, corpse kidnapped (14:25)] Ep.07 - Choked, pushed from balcony, hand sliced, bleeding out carried Ep.09 - Trauma (09:00), restrained, abducted, gutpunched, unconscious, mental torture, waterboarded, memories replaced, weak Ep.10 - What the actual fudge (17:20), passes out Ep.11 - Trapped, crying, collapse Ep.12 - Unconscious, trapped, drowning, bleeding, 'dead'

Black Butler: Book of Circus

Ep.01 - Head 'shot' (15:20) Ep.02 - Exhausted, allergies (14:25, 20:35, 21:25) Ep.03 - Angry, tightrope, pebbled with tiny rocks x1000, tortured/forced to smile Ep.04 - Stressful commoner life, brand scar revealed (21:25), cold & wet, trauma (22:05) Ep.05 - Encased (08:30), very sick (15:05+), throws up, passes out, weak, hallucinating Ep.06 - [Nightmare; trauma/branding ceremony, Madame Red] Coughing fits, fever, carried, asthma fit (17:30), restrained to bed Ep.07 - Prolonged sleep, branding trauma (21:55) Ep.08 - Branding trauma Ep.09 - Branding trauma (19:25), throws up, crying, carried Ep.10 - Carried cont.

[hitthecieling]

The moon's a skull, I think it's grinning (7/10)

M, Sebastian/Ciel

When lower-class children start going missing and their families turn up murdered at an alarming rate, Ciel Phantomhive goes undercover and enrols in the Copperfield Ragged School with Sebastian acting as his guardian. Ciel learns a few things about hunger.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 7

[ena333333]

i’m so obsessed with sebastian whump and would love to see r!ciel and undertaker reduce this powerful proud demon into a mess……

[talonsin]

'I love this character' meaning they're so precious, they need to be protected at all costs, they deserve the world

vs

'I love this character' meaning I need to see them absolutely destroyed, bleeding and crying, broken down and then built back up only to be broken down again

[blackrosesandwhump]

June of Doom Day 24

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” | Blankets | Stitches | Bandages

CW: kidnapping reference, recovery whump, fear

Home, at last, after so much suffering, and all Ciel wants to do is sleep.

The entry hall is cool and empty as Sebastian carries him inside and up the stairs. The boy breathes a sigh, relaxing a little in his butler’s arms. The demon must have ordered everyone to stay away, thankfully.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, young master. Can you stand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Sebastian lets him down gently, steadying him as he finds his balance. Ciel’s legs ache from being tied up. So do his wrists, still raw from their tight restraints. He feels dirty and used, crusted with dried blood and blackened with soot.

“What did they want with me?” he asks, too tired to think as the butler guides him to his bedroom.

Sebastian tsks quietly, disapproving, Ciel knows, not at the question but at the kidnappers’ cruelty. “I can’t say, my young lord. It’s a mystery I’ll investigate as soon as possible.”

Investigate. An understatement. Ciel smiles to himself, imagining what might happen to the kidnappers once they’re found. He keeps smiling as Sebastian helps him strip off his ruined, stained clothing.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Oh, nothing.” Ciel hisses as his shirtsleeve catches on his injured arm. “Those poor men.”

“Indeed,” Sebastian says simply. “Let me draw you a nice hot bath.”

Much later, freshly bandaged and layered with blankets against the cold night, Ciel lies in bed, staring into the flickering candle at his bedside. With Sebastian gone (he should have requested not to be left alone, Ciel realizes), the horrors of the previous two days take over. Ciel’s lingering fear, kept at bay while the demon helped him bathe and settle, crawls down his spine and into his throat.

The boy scrunches deeper under the covers. His wrists and ankles tingle with memory. The coal cellar. The ropes binding him hand and foot.

And—the thought instills in him a leaden terror—the skeletal woman with monstrous hair. Hair that possessed its own sentience, as if it was its own creature, separate from the woman’s will. A kind of Medusa. Ciel remembered the story from long ago, in a book of Greek myths his father owned.

The men who kidnapped him had clearly been under her control.

Ciel shudders, absently picking at the bandages wrapping his arm. Exhausted sleep claims him shortly afterward, and he slips into a dreamless world devoid of feeling.

Elsewhere in the night, the demon butler plunges into the darkness, and the air is rent with screams.

@juneofdoom

[kira-the-whump-enthusiast]

used as a literal punching bag from the torture bingo card for whoever you’d like

Card by @a-crumb-of-whump!!

Content: Well—being used as a punching bag, broken bones, emeto, prison whump, sadistic whumper, and generally a guy having Despair.

Tagging: @whump-queen @whump-in-the-closet @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @onlywhump

—

Thud.

The chess board clattered as it landed on the cold tile. From the farthest corner of the cell, Ciel watched intently as the guard got down on their knees in front of the board. And still they were looking down at him—Ciel could barely get off the floor in his state. His ankle was definitely sprained, and it ached terribly—a fact that hadn't convinced anyone to give him a break. Not to mention the bruises over bruises, scars over scars.

He was so tired.

The guard stared back at him with a barely concealed smirk, a taunting glare in their eyes. They gestured to the board as if it was a friendly invitation to play.

With no real choice, Ciel crawled to the edge of the chess board, the chain around his good ankle clanking as he did so. There was no getting out of this. He'd play, or he'd suffer for refusing.

He always got first move. The guard treated it like it was some sort of mercy—and maybe it had been, a long time ago.

I'm giving you a chance. Be grateful for it.

He tried to smile like he was.

Either way, the game always ended the same. It ended with blood and tears and words like I’m sorry, I'm sorry, don't hurt me, please— falling from his lips.

The best Ciel could do was stall for time, use every move to prolong the game. And maybe, maybe he'd spend a few minutes in a little less pain than he usually was. Maybe, maybe, something would happen and they wouldn't finish and he'd get to avoid the end for just one day.

But it never happened. The final move would always be made. Someone would checkmate, and the game would end.

The guard was an incredibly tough opponent, and it had taken Ciel countless games to finally capture their king. He almost cried that first time he won, because he'd thought that maybe this time, maybe, just maybe—he'd finally be safe.

And then he saw the flash of anger and felt the first blow.

That's when he learned that everything was futile.

It didn't matter who won this time either.

The guard locked cuffs around his wrists, attached a chain to the ceiling, and pulled him up and up—his shoulders stretching more than he could bear, his toes barely touching the floor.

They circled him like a hungry hawk surveying its prey. Ciel closed his eyes and bit on his lip until blood dripped down his chin.

Please just get it over with.

The blows didn't hurt that much compared to the despair. Even as his ribs cracked. As the fists to his stomach made him vomit. As his voice gave out from the screaming.

It didn't hurt as much as knowing next week, it'd happen all over again.

There was no escaping this hell.

—

A/N: hehehe sad chess man go brrr

[riahlynn101]

Ai-less Whumptober 2024 - Day Eleven: "Why Would You Even Say That?" + Truth Serum

Fandom: Black Butler

Word count: 1,487

Trigger warnings: implied kidnapping, implied/referenced child abuse, referenced canonical character death, a child in distress, and drugging. 

Story notes: R!Ciel is just referred to as ‘his brother’, while O!Ciel is referred to as Ciel and Fennian. (It'll make more sense in context. Hopefully).

--

The liquid is cold. Ciel can feel it spread in his veins, forced into him by the IV drip Undertaker so “lovingly” hooked up to him. He glares at the source of his current headache. Not that it seems to bother the man. 

His brother strolls across the room, rounding the work desk. He sits down gracefully, crossing his legs. One of his hands comes to rest on Ciel’s knee, and if not for the straps around his wrists, he wouldn’t hesitate to push his brother’s hand off. 

“Little brother,” his brother says, expression unreadable. It used to be that Ciel was the more expressive of the two of them. Pain and joy plain as day on his mirror image’s face. “You’ve done so well.” Even said with a startling amount of condescension, Ciel can practically feel how proud his brother is of him. 

“And now you have no blood,” He snarks, eyeing the door behind his brother. 

His brother smiles, tilting his head to the side. “Do I?” 

Before he can stop, Ciel finds himself blabbing out their whole plan. Even the parts that haven’t, exactly, come to fruition yet. He’s heard the expression ‘word vomit’ but never knew what it meant until this exact moment. 

Infuriatingly, his brother just nods along. An understanding sort of look on his face. His hand is cold, Ciel notes, words still falling from his tongue, feeling it squeeze his knee as if trying to reassure him. 

It doesn’t. Not even a little bit, but he can’t move away or swat his brother’s hand. 

When he finishes, sucking in a deep breath, his brother looks at Undertaker. Neither of them say anything, though Ciel guesses there will be a conversation about ruining the rest of his plans when he’s out of earshot. 

He wriggles, trying the straps on his wrists. “Let me go,” he says. “You got what you wanted.”

His brother hums, and Undertaker laughs, and Ciel can’t decide which sound he hates worse. 

“Brother, dear, you didn’t think that was all?”

Ciel wrinkles his nose. He’s always hated being talked down to, but the fact it’s coming from someone that is, at most, five minutes older than him, is a new low. Especially because, if he’s being technical, he’s now the oldest out of them. 

His brother clicks his tongue, hand moving from Ciel’s knee to his chin. “Fennian,” he murmurs. His voice is soft, like it was all those times when his brother took care of him when he was a sickly child. Gentle like a lullaby, careful not to startle him awake. 

The use of his birth name shocks him enough to cease his wriggling. His brother’s hand rises to his cheek, thumb stroking the skin there. 

Ciel shakes his head. “No!” He exclaims. “I’m not-”

“Fennian,” his brother says again, voice a little sterner. “We have much to discuss.”

“I am Ciel Phantomhive.”

If he had to put a name to the flash of emotion in his brother’s eyes, it would be “pity”. He grits his teeth, frustration and anger replacing his shock. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he snaps, tossing his head to the side. His brother drops his hand, returning to his original seat. 

“You’re confused,” his brother says. 

The implication that he, out of the two of them, might be more out of sorts than his undead brother, makes Ciel angrier. He glares at the mockery of his long dead twin, willing himself to see past the familiar face.

“I’m not.”

“But you are,” his brother insists, hand coming to rest once again on his knee. “And that’s okay. Big brother will help you see clearer.” He gestures to the IV beside Ciel. “Undertaker made a special medicine. Just for you.”

Ciel shudders. “Why?” 

“I assume you mean, what is it for?” His brother sits back in his seat, never taking his eyes off Ciel. “The why is obvious.”

Ciel has to bite back a snarky reply. If it were actually so obvious, then he wouldn't be asking, now would he? Instead, he forces himself to ask, “what is it for?”

His brother sits up. “Oh, I’m so happy you asked, brother dear.” He reaches across the small space between them, apparently unable or unwilling to let him breathe for more than five seconds at a time. He traces the IV line from the rubber tube all the way down to the thin skin on his inner elbow. “The details are irrelevant, but what matters is the outcome. I know how hard it is for you to talk to me. Your head has been filled with such nonsense, so the medicine being fed into the IV will help you open up better.”

Ciel blanched. “Earlier,” he starts, dread coursing through his veins, “when I told you both about our plans-”

His brother interjects. He laughs, pinching one of Ciel’s cheeks. “Ah, clever little thing you are. Yes, that was the medicine. Think of it as a truth serum.”

Oh, no. He eyes the door again, hoping that Sebastian might be standing there. A moment later than he would have hoped, but still in time to fix everything. 

Sebastian isn’t there, though, and Ciel can’t quell his panic. “Sebastian!” He calls, uncaring if it upsets his brother’s corpse. “Sebastian, come get me! This is an order!”

His brother smacks his cheek. It isn’t hard, considering everything else he’s been through, but somehow it hurts enough for Ciel to tear up. 

“Stop,” his brother commands. “None of that.”

He hears Undertaker step forward, perhaps to ensure that his brother doesn’t go too far. And wouldn’t that be ironic? Having the person that caused this, save him?

“No matter. That demon can’t reach us here.”

“Wh-what?”

“Don’t worry your little head about it, little Phantomhive,” Undertaker says, ruffling his hair.

Ciel throws his head back, snapping his teeth at him. Unfortunately, his teeth only grasp air. 

“Are you that unhappy that I’ve returned?”

The question knocks all the air from Ciel’s chest. He turns his attention back to his brother who has dragged his chair closer. Their knees touch, but it must not be enough for his brother, because one of his hands touches Ciel’s knee, while the other sits atop his bound hand. 

“Why would you say that?” His head spins. 

“I just mean, you seem so unhappy. Fennian-”

“That isn’t my name,” he gets out between gritted teeth. “Stop calling me that.”

“It’s your name. Like mine is Ciel. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be to go back to normal.”

Ciel squints his eyes. “Don’t you get it? There is no ‘normal’. Mother and father are gone. You’re gone. This is normal now.”

His brother nods. He regards Undertaker. “It’s worse than we thought. Can we turn the IV up slightly? My little brother might require more medicine to cooperate.”

“Certainly, my lord.”

Ciel shakes his head frantically. He pulls at his restraints. “Let me go! You bastard!”

“Naughty,” his brother scolds him. 

Against his will, Ciel finds his body relaxing. Struggling becomes harder. “Nuh-nuh, no,” he mutters. His vision swims, and his head spins. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” His brother strokes his hair. 

“I-I don’t want….” Ciel trails off. His thoughts feel like mush. 

“Shhh….I have a couple of questions, and then you can rest.” 

Between his fractured thoughts and heavy eyelids, Ciel only has his brother’s voice to grab onto. 

“Are you upset I’ve returned?” 

All the emotions he’s been hiding since his brother’s death rise to the surface. They overwhelm him to the point that he can’t even muster up a reply. He hangs his head.

“Fennian,” his brother murmurs. 

Tears threaten to spill from his eyes. He sniffles. “Don’t,” he tries. 

“Fennian, my little twin.”

“That isn’t….” he takes a deep breath to ease the tension in his chest. 

“But it’s such a lovely name.”

Something in him breaks. He chokes on a sob. Tears fall onto his lap. His brother coos, lifting his chin. “Aw. You poor thing.”

“Ci-el,” he cries. “‘M suh-sorry.”

His brother wraps his arms around him. It pulls on the IV in his arm, but Fennian doesn’t care. He just wants his family back. He never wanted this. 

“Oh, my baby brother. You’ve been hurt.”

Fennian sobs, allowing himself to be held. 

“I didn’t want to hu-hurt anyone.”

“I know,” his brother says, pulling away only to wipe Fennian’s eyes. “I know. You can rest now, okay? We can continue this conversation tomorrow.”

The thought of being separate from his brother suddenly terrifies Fennian. He throws himself forward. “Don’t leave,” he begs. He feels every bit the weak child he pretends he isn’t. “Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Fen. I’ll be here when you wake.”

His vision swims and the room slowly darkens. “Promise?”

“Promise. Now, sleep.”

He lets the medicine pull him down into a dreamless sleep.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Scenario: Edward, Charles Grey, Ciel, Alois, (male) Grell, and Ronald watching their S/O getting shot-not fatal but pretty severe enough to where it's touch and go before they pull through

my character limit for scenarios is 3, so I did reactions instead to make sure I got everyone in!

these got a lil bit longer than I usually make reactions... but that's ok! because it broke my heart :')

God, no… no, this can’t be happening, can it?! He can’t lose someone else… not like this…! To watch him react to it, it’s like watching an ‘instant motion’ button be hit. One second he’s frozen, and as soon as (Name) has been shot actually registers in his mind, he’s running over to be by their side. It triggers memories of how he tried to wake Luka as a child, not knowing what had happened, but this time he knows what happened. He’s sobbing when he reaches them, cradling them in his arms and patting at their face to keep them alert. All the while he’s screaming for one of his servants to do something, get someone, because he doesn’t want to leave (Name). By the time they all get to hospital, Alois is covered in blood from holding them and can’t stop crying as he waits for news; nobody really knows how to calm him down. Besides, a person should react in shock when their S/O gets shot, right? As far as everyone else is concerned, this is the healthiest overreaction to anything that the earl has had in a long time. Thank God, it’s a huge weight lifted off his shoulders when the doctors come to tell him that (Name) is probably going to be alright. Even though it’s going to be a long recovery, that they’re not completely out of trouble… they’re alive. They’re still here. The second Alois is told he’s allowed to see them, he spends every waking moment (and many sleeping moments) in their room, holding their hand. It’s not going to be easy getting them back on their feet… he’ll be there, though. Right by their side, where he belongs. He almost lost them, and he knows how lucky he is that he still has them.

What’s happening…?! The world suddenly moves in slow motion, and he sees every second of that bullet entering their body. It’s horrifying, it’s torture, and despite moving slowly, it all happens too fast for him to actually do a thing to stop it. He’s down on the ground next to them half a second after the bullet hits. He’s hoping that Sebastian will know instinctively to take care of the attacker, so Ciel busies himself with pressing a shaking hand against (Name)’s wound, as hard as he can. Even when they might yelp at the pain, he grits his teeth and doesn’t let up. The more pressure he can keep on it, the more it might keep the bleeding under control, the less blood they’ll lose, the less chance that he’ll lose them. As soon as he notices his ever faithful butler coming into frame, he shouts for Sebastian to get them to hospital. “Keep (Name) alive, and that’s an order!” He has never issued an order so ferociously before, and he likely doesn’t even realize he’s crying as he orders it. Of course, at hospital while he waits for news, he’s crying (and trying to suppress it) enough that he nearly works himself into an asthma attack. He can’t imagine losing his S/O, this person who’s stayed by his side, who he’s planned to spend the rest of his life with. He manages to hold it together for long enough to be told that (Name) is going to live, finally, so he’s able to calm down. While his mind is still going just as fast as that bullet, he’s flooded with relief. He regains his composure, and even though he isn’t in their recovery room all the time, he does spend the first night there sleeping on a bench by their bed. He makes sure things are just right at the manor for when they’re able to come home… and sets about finding the person who did this. No one gets away with shooting Ciel Phantomhive’s partner.

Get out of the way, they need to move—! What the hell is going on?! He tries to warn them, maybe because his trained ears heard the click of someone readying a gun to fire, maybe because he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Why anyone would want to shoot his S/O, he’s not sure, other than the possibility of it being to get to him; it’s unfortunate, but his family does have enemies. Although he couldn’t stop it from happening, he hurries to get (Name) out of danger, and he’s doing his very best not to lose his head. Stiff upper lip, right? He knows it will be harder to help them if he doesn’t keep his bearings. He raises his voice a little to tell his beloved that he needs them to follow him, as he pulls out his handkerchief to hold against the wound. Much as it makes him wince to have (Name) crying because he’s using so much pressure in an effort to stem the bleeding, he knows he has to do it. And, he doesn’t think he’s ever moved so fast in his life as he moves to get them to hospital. While they’re being tended to, he manages to get a hold of his sister, at least, so he brings Lizzie and Paula to sit with him. Not only does he know that Lizzie adores (Name), he also very much doesn’t want to be alone letting his thoughts run wild. Being able to comfort his crying sister keeps his head grounded. The more he tells Lizzie that everything is going to be okay, (Name) will be fine, it reinforces that for himself too. At last he’s able to see them, and the relief that they’re still alive crashes into him like a wave. He’ll deal with the mystery of exactly what happened later… for now, he just wants to focus on helping them recover. Whatever they might need, he’s here for them.

What the bloody devil is going on around here?! Why didn’t they move…? They’re smarter than that, he knows they are! Much like Alois, Grell’s first instinct is to freeze up, like his mind is denying the reality he’s seeing play out before him. He just can’t believe that it’s happening. Not to them. This is like something he sees when he takes souls, like something he knows will happen when he sees a new name in his ledger. But this… this is (Name). They’re not another name in his ledger. They’re his partner, and he is not going to just let them die. Ever defiant of the rules, he first eliminates the threat of them being shot again by absolutely tearing into the person who attacked them. He doesn’t care whether he’s incapacitated them or killed the shooter; he just cares that they can’t hurt his S/O a second time. His beloved chainsaw is left behind, and he yells for whoever he’s been roped into mentoring that they need to grab it and do the paperwork, because his hands suddenly got very full. The good news is, thanks to Reapers being supernatural, (Name) is at the hospital fast enough that they haven’t lost much blood by the time the doctors start working to save them. However, Grell can’t just sit still and wait. Their blood is all over his hands as he tried to keep pressure on their wound while getting them here, and for once, he’s almost nauseated by the color red. He paces, ignoring everyone else, perhaps going so far as to kick a door or two in frustration. He should have been able to help (Name). He feels useless, and two seconds after he’s told he can go see them, he’s at their bedside. Terribly romantic, this one… he holds their hand, he stays the night, he kisses them as many times as he thinks they can tolerate right now. Once they get out of here, he’s going to find a way to avoid work so he can take good care of them at home. He has nightmares about them becoming another corpse in the endless parade of death that fills his days, and it very nearly became something real. Suffice it to say, he’s going to dote on them so much they’ll be absolutely sick of him in a week… in the best way possible.

No, no, no, no, no! Has the world gone blinking mad? Why would anyone shoot at (Name)?! To get to him…? Although he tries his best to deflect the bullet with his sword… he’s too emotional, when he sees it heading for his partner, he becomes less accurate than he otherwise would be. He can’t stop it, he can’t do a damn thing, really. He loses his own balance for a moment, and scrambles over to press his hands against the wound his S/O has just gotten. He doesn’t know what else to do, other than be angry. The only saving grace is that he doesn’t need to give orders — Phipps went on the alert and dealt with the threat immediately, so there’s no danger of another bullet being fired. Not only that, compared to Grey almost losing his head in panic, his friend is much better under these circumstances. Phipps ushers them both into a carriage and is able to help put additional pressure on (Name)’s wound whilst they get to hospital as fast as is humanly possible. Grey, on the other hand, is starting to cry and hyperventilating, his hands shaking, begging (Name) not to leave him, to hang on, don’t they dare close their eyes, if he has to smack their cheek to keep them awake, he’ll do it! All that passion and energy of his translates into anxiety during moments of high stress. Grey is terrible at playing the waiting game once the doctors whisk his lover away, and he can’t even sit down. His nerves are shot so much so that the entire time the doctors are working, he’s just babbling away to Phipps. One can tell he’s not talking because he has anything to actually say, he’s talking because he’s terrified of the silence if he stops. Finally, he rushes into the room as soon as he’s able, but he’s afraid to touch (Name) too much. They’re fragile right now and he knows it, and he doesn’t want to make their pain worse. So, anyone Phipps might tell wouldn’t believe him that Grey is uncharacteristically gentle with them. The good part? Grey is able to give his lover the best of everything while they recover, and when they get home, he makes sure they’re comfortable. He’s… unsettled that he came so close to losing them. Despite that he doesn’t know how, he’s struck by the thought that he needs to be more careful with them.

Wait, no, wait, wait—!! He needs to stop this, somehow! He just… he can’t… his lover can’t have just been shot, can they?! There is, of course, no way to stop a bullet from hitting a target once it’s been fired, aside from finding another target. Unfortunately, he’s not very fast about moving when he’s in shock, and, well, seeing one’s S/O being shot will shock a man. When he snaps out of it only a second after hearing their cries of pain, any worries about the attacker are just ignored in favor of trying to get (Name) to hospital. If he can get them out of harm’s way, maybe they won’t be shot a second time, and maybe he can get them some help. Hopefully he’s being mentored that day, so he can shout for his mentor to help; with any luck, they’ll get everything else straightened out while Ronald rushes his S/O to the nearest hospital. He tries to stop the bleeding, but he’s been trained to assist death, not stop it, so his techniques are a little lacking, and mostly he just ends up with blood covering him. He just sits after he turns (Name) over to the doctors, he sits and tries to pray. He doesn’t think he’s very good at it… he still tries. He thinks if there is a God, at least He or She or They wouldn’t just let an innocent person die like that, right? That said, he doesn’t hold much faith in his own attempts at prayer, so he’s left sitting in a chair, violently hoping that the doctors know what they’re doing. He doesn’t really know what else to do. Thankfully, he’s able to see his S/O pretty soon, although he does much the same thing. He sits by their bed, running his fingers through their hair and telling them how much he loves them. That as soon as the doctors give them the go-ahead, he’s going to take them home, stay back from work for a bit, tend to them. It’s probably one of the few times (Name) ever sees that ever-cheerful smile of his turn into something softer, as he takes care of them.

[soulless-angel25]

Whumperless Whump Event: Day 20 Prompt- It's not fun if you're panicking: Stuck in an elevator / Claustrophobia / “Get me out.” @seth-whumps

Fandom: Black Butler Characters: Ciel Phantomhive

Additional Warnings: Past trauma recalled

AO3 Link!

He couldn't see, that was the first thing that crossed Ciel's mind. Something was wrapped around his head and he couldn't see, a blindfold maybe?

He shifted and the bindings pulled and in an instant he was there. He wasn't Ciel Phantomhive, Earl of Phantomhive- he was simply the child he'd been.

The voices of the people bidding turns into the voices of the cultists speaking and making comments about them, about who to sacrifice next. The heavy dress turned into bodies on him and they wouldn't let go- why won't they let go? Please, please someone get him out- please

Someone was touching him- who was touching him? He couldn't see! Were they touching him again?

And his brother, oh gods... he could hear him being dragged- the sound of the cage opening and slamming! shut. no- no, they couldn't be.... nonononononononono

[inquisimer]

sometimes it scratches like barbs

an alternate prompt fill for @febuwhump day 9: I love you. Nathaniel has always worn his heart on his sleeve. But Ciel is not Fereldan—now she must manage the fallout of getting involved with one.

read it on ao3 here

Female Andras/Nathaniel Howe | Rated T | 1317 words | CW: self harm, fantasy racism

-

Her hands clenched around his leathers, the smile falling from her lips. Ciel blinked up at Nathaniel. Moonlight hung around his hair and the look he gave her was soft and warm and open.

“What did you say?”

“I love you.” Casual. Nonchalant. Like they needn’t dance around rituals or follow steps. Like there wasn’t a process to such affection. Even when it was possible.

Fereldans.

Ciel dropped her forehead to his chest and squeezed her eyes tight against the emotion welling there. Steeling herself with gritted teeth, she shoved him away.

“You don’t mean that,” she said flatly.

“I do. I love—“

“You don’t. You can’t.”

His expression flashed from surprise to confusion to hurt before it settled on anger. Anger was good, familiar. A parlay they knew well and a tool easily twisted to fix the mistake he seemed bent on making.

“And why is that?” he asked lowly.

“Just one reason will do?”

Nathaniel scowled. “Do not treat me as one of your Banns, Ciel. I am your Constable, at the very least. And your friend, if not more than that.”

He stepped closer, arms outstretched to close the distance she’d put between them. But she held out a palm and shook her head. His hands thudded dully against his sides as they fell.

“Tell me why, then,” he scowled. “I’m a man of reason and logic. If what you speak is true—“

“Would you listen? If I listed the reasons this cannot go beyond a dalliance? Or would you push on, foolishly hopeful?” Ciel shook her head. “This is not a debate, Nathaniel. I do not owe you an explanation.”

“I rather think you do,” he snapped. “And if you won’t give one—“

This time he crowded her against the battlements’ edge, catching her face between his calloused palms and forcing her to meet his hardened gaze.

“Look at me, just like this,” he growled. “And tell me again. Tell me that this—this aching in my heart is anything less than love, Ciel.”

The flat mask of one who’d survived the clutches of the Orlesian Court overtook her face. But her pulse thundered in her throat and she knew that he must feel it against his hands. She clenched her jaw together and glared at him.

This was her fault. He was too new to the Wardens, too entrenched in the oddities of this pocket Order in Ferelden. An intersection of time and fate and happenstance—the rest of the world did not work like this. And eventually, one or both of them would be called away from it and forced to confront a cold, pragmatic reality.

A reality in which humans did not fall in love with elves. In which Fereldans did not love Orlesians. And in which Wardens were not afforded the luxury of love at all.

She knew the cautionary tale of Genevieve. And she knew every rumor about her predecessor in Ferelden and the broken heart that drove her to disappear. Nothing but tragedy awaited a Warden who dared to love. She would not inflict that on Nathaniel, nor would she let him do it to himself.

For once, she broke the stare down first. Within the confines of his grip, she dropped her chin to her chest and swallowed hard.

“You cannot,” she said raggedly. She pushed him away again, but he refused to go. His grip dropped from her face to her shoulders, his fingers digging bruises into the skin there.

“I can,” he insisted. “I do.”

She slapped him. Her palm connected with his cheek and in his surprise he released her. Seizing the distance needed for a clear head, Ciel stepped back and folded her arms over her chest. “Do not be a fool, Nathaniel. Drop this. There is no future in it.”

“No future?” His bitter laugh echoed off the Vigil’s stone. “What future do I have anyhow? You made sure of that, Commander.”

“The Wardens are a future. For you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He jabbed the griffon emblem stamped across her chest plate. “Unless you have very recent news, they’re a future for you as well. They could be a future for us, together.”

“Ten years.”

“What?”

“Ten years, since I joined the Order.” Ciel pulled the blood-filled pendant away from the hovel of her throat, so he could see how battles and time had worn away the leather cord. It contrasted sharply with the fine, black braid around his own neck.

“I’ll be a Blighted corpse in the Deep Roads before the Calling is even a distant tune in your mind,” she said curtly. “You do not want to tie yourself to a dead woman walking.”

“Is that not all the more reason to seize on the time we have left?” Nathaniel asked earnestly. “Love does not care for the woes of the world—if we must suffer such fates, let us have the moments now to make it worthwhile!”

Her teeth clicked together. He didn’t get it. Heartsick, idealistic folly. She would have to be more pointed, more personal. There must be a clean, unequivocal break, lest he squander the time his limited time with what ifs and should have beens.

“You cannot tell me that I do not love you.” His hands caught at hers and he drew her close, despite the reluctant drag of her feet, unwavering against her harsh glare. She cringed at the repeated proclamation. Wasn’t she a wretched little thing, to have led him along so fully? “Because I know that I do.”

There was a catch in his voice. He took a deep breath. “But if you must be so insistent, look at me. Look at me, do not turn away, and tell me that you do not love me. Tell me that, and I will let it be.”

He caught the point of her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Do that, and I will never speak of this again.”

“But—“ he brushed the softest, lightest of kisses over her lips. “I do not think you can.”

Under his hands, she stilled, cold and hard as Tevinter’s finest marble. When he pulled back, the moonlight reflected a dangerous glint in her eyes and, for the first time that night, uncertainty, and fear, flashed in his eyes.

“I do not love you,” she lied. Voice steady and even and calm. His hand dropped to her neck, as if he could catch her in the act.

“I don’t believe you.”

“That is not my concern.” She covered his hand with her own and pulled it away from her skin. When she dropped it in the space she’d carved between them, it hung, reaching, disbelieving.

“I do not love you,” she repeated. A lie was usually easier the second time, the words no longer foreign on her tongue, her mind already cementing them as a new truth. But this one burned her throat as surely as fiery darkspawn blood.

Nathaniel’s face crumpled He pressed his lips together and nodded, a single, sharp jerk of his chin.

“Right then,” he said. “Good evening, Commander.”

As he retreated, Ciel propped her hands against the battlements and exhaled. This post had dulled her skills, that she felt so torn by a child’s exchange of the Game.

Damn you, Alisse. Sending me here.

She pressed down against the stone and the jagged edges of it tore open decades’ worth of similar scars and callouses. Loose stone dust stung the open wounds and she drank in the pain as an alcoholic with a wine skin in hand.

Nathaniel had a good heart. Full of good intentions and passion that would take him far.

She twisted her palms, bearing the full weight of her body and her armor on them to drive the wounds deeper.

He deserved much better than her. And she deserved no less than this.

[plague-of-insomnia]

11. Love Sick

.

.

@chaos-the-raven Thank you for loving my art!! 💞 At first, I was unsure of what to draw since I couldn't imagine Sebastian getting sick. I was thinking of him hurting like in the Campania, but somehow my mind thought getting hurt and getting sick are two different things??

I ended up drawing Sebastian catching a fever, that turns out to be a mysterious demonic illness (spoiler: in the title) and his confused young master trying his best to find out what's happening (to no avail, since the demon is also confused and acting strangely. He's feeling cold but also hot, he said?? Also why is his face so red—)

It's fun to draw Sebastian being the one flustered for once!!

Long story short, I ended up drawing two oblivious idiots 😔🤚

[lavendernix-art]

Did a small request as a gift for one of my discord bros, these are a couple extra sketches I did of his characters (I liked these two a lot) and one of him not dying from COVID. Good job bud <3 <3

[goodwhump-temp]

FULL WHUMPS LIST;

Shows, movies, anime, & cartoons (Organized Alphabetically by TV Title)(pinned) - Message me if any of this is outdated! Organized whump of my posts

LIVE ACTION

Ray Palmer | Arrowverse Jake Peralta | Brooklyn-99 Tangerine | Bullet Train Richard Castle | Castle Ryan | Castle Johnny Gage | Emergency! (1979) John Carter | E.R. Peter Bishop | Fringe Simon | Firefly Malcolm | Firefly Mike Schmidt | FNAF Movie Tom Mason | Falling Skies Matt Damon | Jason Bourne Jake Green | Jericho (2006) Hawkeye | M*A*S*H Steven Grant | Moon Knight Thomas Shelby | Peaky Blinders Shawn Spencer | Psych Daniel Jackson | SG1 Trip Tucker | Star Trek: Enterprise William Riker | Star Trek: TNG Rodney McKay | SG: Atlantis John Sheppard | SG: Atlantis Sam Winchester | Supernatural (S1-S15) Mark Wahlberg | Ted 2 Hughie | The Boys Shaun Murphey | The Good Doctor Dick Grayson | Titans Rust Cohle | True Detectives Cordell Walker | Walker Ryan Gosling | Multiple movies Owen Strand | 9-1-1 Lone Star

ANIME

Hajime Nagumo | Arifureta: From Commonplace To World's Strongest Ciel Phantomhive | Black Butler Ichigo | Bleach Yukio Okumura | Blue Exorcist Rin Okumura | Blue Exorcist Akutugawa | Bungo Stray Dogs Atsushi | Bungo Stray Dogs Yuu Otosaka | Charlotte Lelouch Lamperouge | Code Geass David Martinez | Cyberpunk: Edgerunners Allen Walker | D. Gray Man Saiki K. | Disastrous Life of Saiki K. Natsu | Fairy Tail Grey | Fairy Tail Yuki | Fruits Basket Edward Elric | Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood Edward Elric | Fullmetal Alchemist: 2003 (+ the Movie) Shoyo Hinata | Haikyu!! Nanase Riku | IDOLiSH7 Kuroko | Kuroko No Basket Cheng Xiaoshi | Link Click Lu Guang | Link Click Deku | My Hero Academia Natsume Takashi | Natsume's Book of Friends Yuito Sumeragi | Scarlet Nexus Kirito | Sword Art Online Cid Kagenou | The Eminence in Shadow Naofumi | The Rising of the Shield Hero Ashiya Hanae | The Morose Mononokean Vanitas | Vanitas No Carte Yuri | Yuri On Ice

CARTOONS

Boimler | Star Trek: Lower Decks Ezra Bridger | Star Wars Rebels Bumblebee | Transformers: Prime Optimus Prime | Transformers: Prime Ratchet | Transformers: Prime Smokescreen | Transformers: Prime Jack Darby | Transformers: Prime Lance | Voltron: Legendary Defender Robin | Young Justice Blue Beetle | Young Justice Batman | Justice League / Unlimited, JLA + Movies..

GAMES

Johnny Cage | Mortal Kombat

[ceoandslutler]

thank you to the 279 people who voted 💜

tierlist:

1st place: do not care as long as it's well-written: 32.3%

2nd place: smut (top!sebastian x bottom!ciel): 26.5%

3rd place: depends on other things (whump/angst/hurt-comfort or AUs/canon compliance): 13.3%

[joint] 4th place: smut (any): 7.9%

[joint] 4th place: fluff + smut (reply or rb to explain smut preferences): 7.9%

5th place: smut (top!sebastian x bottom!ciel): 6.8%

6th place: fluff (don't mind smut but don't seek it): 3.9%

[joint] 7th place: smut (sebaciel switch): 0.7%

[joint] 7th place: fluff (do not read smut, avoid it): 0.7%

important: this is in no way telling you what to write, it's just a fun way of seeing what the fandom wants to see, write whatever you want <3

[plague-of-insomnia]

[source]

I still this he’s adorable. I mean who doesn’t love a Sebby with ears? Even with the blood his adorable. Even with his deadly glare his adorable. <3

[riahlynn101]

Ai-less Whumptober 2024 - Day Nineteen: "Dissociation" + "I Wish I Could Get You Back."

Fandom: Black Butler

Word count: 1,628

Trigger warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced canonical character death, small amounts of blood, past trauma, and implied non-consensual medical procedure.

Switching days once again

(This will probably warrant a pt. 2)

--

Their reunion was a long time coming. Years in the making, in fact, and something that Ciel had been looking forward to since he regained sentience. He sits at his desk, awaiting the arrival of his brother. 

He looks at the childhood picture of his twin and him. Mister Pitt had been most agreeable about reprinting the photo, especially when Ciel bailed him out of all the potential legal fees for harboring two fugitives. 

He looks at the past version of himself. It feels like a lifetime ago, and Ciel has a hard time recognizing himself in the black and white photograph. But more than that - more than the gut-wrenching feeling that he can never truly be the person, the child, he once was - Ciel recognizes his little twin even less. 

Cedric was the sweet but shy one. He was the one that always had a kind word to say about everyone, or a hand to reach out to those that needed it. If not for his constant bouts of sickness, Ciel has no doubts that he would have been loved by anyone and everyone. 

But, unfortunately for the populace of England and his brother’s confidence, Cedric was sick. As a result his social skills suffered greatly, and even when he got somewhat better, he remained glued to Ciel’s side at parties and other social obligations. And if he wasn’t available to cling to, Cedric liked to use their father as a shield against talkative guests. Not that their father minded having to hold Cedric’s hand. He actually seemed to enjoy being able to do at least that for him (seeing as their father hardly ever got to see Cedric). 

“Get your bloody hands off me!”

Ciel smiles. He glances at the rattling doorknob. It’s earlier than he would have expected, but he’s never been one to look a gifted horse in the mouth. 

Polaris opens the door. Cedric struggles in his arms, kicking and flailing. It’s entertaining to watch, but Ciel would rather his brother didn’t get worked up. Undertaker told him that Cedric didn’t seem to be as sick as he used to. However, there exists an unwavering fear within him, one that was placed in him after seeing his brother lie pale and still and suffering from nausea and coughing fits.

“Calm yourself,” he commands. 

“Bastard!” His brother continues his insistent wriggling. He manages to hit Polaris’ face at one point. In response, he is dropped unceremoniously on the floor. His body makes a loud thud against the wood, and his little brother gasps.

Ciel stands from his chair. He rounds the large desk, hands clasped behind his back. “Careful,” he remarks. Polaris seems to shake in rage. It doesn’t take much to rile the other star lord up, and he knows his brother can be a handful. But still…

Not wanting to have to protect his twin from a fellow bizarre doll, Ciel dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “You may go.”

Only when he’s sure that Polaris has left, does he bend down. “Let’s get you off the floor.” He reaches for his brother’s hand. 

“Don’t touch me!” Cedric shouts, throwing himself into a sitting position. He eyes Ciel suspiciously. “Don’t touch me.”

“Little brother,” he tries. Undertaker had warned him that it wouldn’t be easy, but he never imagined that Cedric would be afraid of him. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Cedric shakes his head. “You can’t promise that.”

There had once been a time in their lives where Ciel would have laughed at how silly his brother is being. The very idea that he would ever cause intentional harm to Cedric was one of the very few things he could confidently say he never did, but now…

“I can’t,” he starts, sitting on his haunches across from his brother, “but I don’t want to.”

“Don’t want to isn’t equivalent to not going to.”

Ciel sighs, frustrated that his reunion with his brother isn’t going as planned. But as they say, Rome wasn’t built in a day. Maybe he needs to try a different approach. 

“I don’t have any plans to hurt you.”

“You called Scotland Yard on me.”

Ciel considers this. “Active plans.”

“Then, what do you want?”

“To talk.” And to stay with you forever. And save you from that blasted demon. “That’s all.”

“That’s….all?”

Ciel hums. “That’s right.” He gets to his feet, brushing off his shorts. “Now if it’s okay with you, I would much prefer talking off the floor.” He reaches down to help Cedric off the floor, but his brother ignores his outstretched hand. 

Anger burns through him, and it must flash in his eyes, because Cedric takes a step away from him. And that doesn’t help his anger. 

He grits his teeth, turning away from his brother. “Sit. Down.”

Cedric listens, thankfully, and he manages to push down his annoyance at his twin’s insolence.

“First thing,” Ciel says, sitting down in the armchair opposite his very obviously shaken brother, “how have you been?”

“Better,” Cedric answers. 

Ciel raises his eyebrows, as if imploring his brother to return the favor.

“And you? How have you been, Ciel?” The name seems to get stuck in his brother’s throat. It must feel strange having to use the name he used himself these past three years. 

“Better,” he says. “Undertaker did marvelous work.”

He pays attention to the slight movements of his brother’s face. The wrinkle in between his brows, and the slight hesitation before he nods along. The way his eyes seem to either stare over Ciel’s shoulders or down at his lap. Like he’s trying to prescript his movements, mentally checking out. Like sitting down and chatting with Ciel is the worst thing since their time with the cult. 

He sucks in a breath. “Look at me,” he demands, hands forming fists. 

Cedric looks up from his lap, eyes wide. “Sorry.”

Ciel smooths his hands over his shorts, forcing himself to relax. “It’s fine. It’s fine. Just….be mindful.” He isn’t quite sure what mindful means in this case, but he’s sure his brother can figure it out. 

“Of course.”

“Good. Now, did you enjoy Weston? I, myself, only got to experience the bare minimum. I saw you in the tournament, of course, but were the classes as hard as father said? What about the food? Were people kind to you?”

“It was fine, I suppose. Sebastian makes better food, and-” 

Whatever else his brother said was blocked out by Ciel’s own raging thoughts. It’s not that he hates that his brother was taken care of, and even seems to have found some enjoyment in the demon’s cooking, but it’s that the demon is such a staple in Cedric’s life that he just has to come up in every conversation. 

There’s a buzzing in his ears, and his brother’s, his best friend since birth, voice is drowned out by his own racing thoughts. 

His first memory, Ciel is certain, was of his brother. 

And his last was the same. Small hands, the same as his own, reaching out for him. His eyes wide and movements frantic as he watched Ciel be sacrificed by those awful, awful people. Helpless and in immediate danger. 

As an older brother, Ciel knows he failed Cedric. 

Sweet and shy Cedric. 

Because this person sitting across from him is not Cedric. Whatever happened between his death and rebirth made his brother cold and callused. 

And it breaks his heart that there isn’t a single thing he can do about it. 

Ciel interrupts his brother, sorrow-filled words tumbling from his mouth, “I wish I could get you back.”

His brother tenses up. “But…I’m here.”

“You’re not you.” Ciel laughs a little, feeling dizzy. He’s not sure if that’s possible. “You’re not my Cedric.” He gets to his feet and strolls over to the door. 

“Well, because I’m not,” is Cedric’s nervous reply. Ciel can hear the shakiness in his words. How his breath comes out a little faster than normal. A part of him wants to go to his brother and comfort him, but Ciel knows now that Undertaker was right. 

He opens the door and peeks out into the hall. “Undertaker,” he calls out. “We may proceed with your original plan.”

Behind him, he hears Cedric get up from the chair. “What are you doing?” He asks. 

Ciel shuts the door, and by the time he turns around to face his brother again, Undertaker is standing behind Cedric. “There you are,” he says. 

“Sorry, m’lord, was a little busy with the butler.”

“Sebastian,” Cedric gasps. He looks Undertaker up and down, taking in his bloodied robes and lack of any visible injuries. “Is he….did you…?” 

Undertaker clicks his tongue. “Never mind that, Little Phantomhive. That demon is none of your concern now.” He regards Ciel. “So, you wish to go along with my plan? I can’t guarantee your brother will survive it, but I can guarantee that it will save his soul.”

Cedric shakes his head. “Wh-what? Ciel? No?” He moves towards the door, hand already reaching out for the doorknob. 

He ignores his brother for a moment. “Do what you think is best. I leave my brother’s fate up to you.”

Ciel steps aside to allow Undertaker to grab his brother up. He fights, biting and clawing, but ultimately he’s not a match for Undertaker’s supernatural strength. Cedric cries, being carried from the room. 

He looks back at Ciel as the door closes. The look in his single, uncovered eye, is one that Ciel hopes to never see again. Betrayal reflected in Phantomhive blue. 

But he knows that this is for the best. 

It has to be.

Ciel can’t handle failing his little brother a second time.