#i really wanna explore other relationship dynamics in this fic besides Actual Relationship Ones | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pynkhues · 4 years ago

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So i sent a similar ask to megan because i love peoples thoughts on their own fics and i love snippets soooooo👀 I’m curious what your top five moments in the c&c verse are (which have already happened) and top 5 moments you’re looking forward too?!☺️

Ahhh, thank you! This was such a fun one, haha. It got looooong, so I put it behind a cut! [edit: sorry, the cut doesn’t seem to be working on desktop, but it is on phone? tumblr’s being tumblr! Hopefully it fixes soon?].

Top Five Moments in C&C

1. Annie argues with Beth about the security system in I Could Be Your Welcome.

This was actually one of the first moments I wrote in the C&C ‘verse. I can’t remember the exact context around me writing it, but I remember being interested in Beth’s lack of self-preservation / tendency to ignore danger, and had been thinking a lot about what that would look like in an actual relationship with Rio. It sort of manifested in the thread of Rio buying this expensive security system throughout I Could Be Your Welcome and becomes a bit symbolic of the fact that Beth hasn’t really unpacked any of the realities at that point on what a relationship with a man like Rio means.

Beth is such a stubborn character at the best of times, haha, that I knew I wanted her to dig her heels in on it, and I wanted it to culminate in a fight, and I just loved the idea of Annie being the unlikely voice of reason, and how that reason fell out of how much she loves and worries about Beth.

Here’s my favourite part:

“Yeah, and you need to talk to him about that. But he’s not Dean,” Annie interrupts. “Dean lied for Dean. Dean lied to cover up all the ways he shit the bed, and he shit the bed on like, every level. Comforter, sheets, mattress protector, mattress. Bed frame. Floor underneath. I mean, was there a single inch of your marital bed that wasn’t brown by the end of it all?”

Beth gives Annie a look at that, and Annie laughs to herself, waving soapy arms out and letting the suds drift to the floor.

“With Rio, I think he was - -” and her voice cracks then, her bottom lip wobbling, and she looks briefly away, trying to pull herself together. It takes her a minute to collect herself, to figure out what it is that she wants to say, and when she does, her voice is somehow both raw and firm.

“You’re asking me to be mad that he’s trying to keep you safe, and that’s never going to be something that makes me mad.”

It takes Annie a moment to meet her gaze again, and when she does, her jaw is fixed, even as her lip still wobbles, a tear – blackened with mascara – having stolen down her cheek, catching at the curve of her nose, and - -

And just - -

Dammit.

2. Rio realising why Jane’s upset in Two Hands.

One of the things I find most fun in writing the early days of the C&C ‘verse, is that Beth and Rio flat out do not communicate still, hahaha, and they really just threw themselves into this family without fully knowing what that meant.

Two Hands was very much about that, and in particular about the fact that Rio, in the early days of their relationship, treated Beth’s kids ultimately as extensions of Beth. Two Hands for me marks this turning point in the timeline where he started to really think of each of them as their own people, and consciously commits to building individual relationships with each of them.

Also I love writing Jane, haha. Here’s my fave bit:

“It’s not always like this,” he says, and Jane looks up at him, and there are too many expressions that pass over her round little face – disbelief and childish frustration until it finally settles on somethin�� else, somethin’ softer, less certain, somethin’ he ain’t seen on her face, at least not somethin’ he’s seen directed at him.

“You didn’t say bye,” she says finally, her voice small, and Rio exhales, annoyed.

“I did, darlin’,” because he did. Shit, got to fight about it with Elizabeth and leave Marcus red faced and weepy, made sure of that, but then - -

He looks at Jane and any self-righteousness dies on his tongue.

“Not to you though, huh?” he says softly, and Jane shuffles back into his arm, presses her forehead into his chest, out of sight, the nozzle of the sippy cup sucked into her mouth like a bottle, keeps herself looking away from him, and Rio exhales. He looks down at his bruised hands, then at her feet, where the booties of her onesie hang limply down the side of the couch, her feet lost somewhere in the legs of the thing, the hood of it hangin’ so far down her face it almost covers her eyes, and he reaches up to tug it back, just enough he can see her.

“’m sorry. Think maybe I’m still gettin’ used to this,” he says, because he hadn’t said goodbye to any of Elizabeth’s kids. Had trusted her to do it for him, had treated them like they were just a part of her, but - -

They ain’t.

They’re - -

Well.

Fuck.

Jane looks up at him, her eyes a little glassy and just - - he ain’t sure what that is, the feelin’ in his gut, hollowing itself out. “Can you be the first one I say hey to instead?”

She makes a show of turnin’ it over, her squirming against his chest and drinkin’ that goddamn awful drink he’s made her, but then she nods, and Rio tugs on one of her rabbit ears.

“Hey, Jane,” he says quietly. “You been good for your mama while I been gone?”

And she grins a little at that, shakes her head into his chest again, giggling before she can stop herself, and Rio smiles too, but rolls his eyes.

3. Rio’s non-proposal in Stick to the Rivers

I’m weirdly into the thought of Dean getting married a million times after he and Beth finally divorce. I think Dean’s just affable and charming and goofy enough to trick women into thinking he’s a good guy, and I kind of love the idea that it results in this string of short-term disaster relationships that parallel to the longterm stability and true partnership Beth finds with Rio in C&C.

It’s something I’m definitely going to be exploring in future chapters, but it was really fun to start to in Stick to the Rivers, where Dean tells the kids he’s engaged and Beth and Rio are left to deal with the fallout. I also love the idea of Beth and Rio floating concepts with each other as jokes, even when they mean them seriously, haha, which is how this moment happened:

“Thought you ain’t sayin’ nothin’,” Beth says, imitating his voice, and Rio exhales sharply, squinting down at her in that irritated way that he does whenever she imitates him.

“I ain’t,” he says, gritting his teeth, and Beth arches an eyebrow up at him. “But that dumbass ex o’ yours - - ”

“Is getting married,” Beth replies, refocusing her gaze on the ceiling, and at least that��s enough to make Rio be quiet. It was a dirty trick, and she thinks they both know it, but still - - she just didn’t have it in her for Rio to tell her what she already knew, to have to justify (again) her inaction when it came to Dean.

Rio sighs above her, and she can feel him trying to catch her gaze, but she keeps it fixed steadily on the ceiling, briefly wishing for cracks or cobwebs or anything beyond the pristine surface there to distract herself, only something must distract her, because she doesn’t realise Rio’s undressed or even moved at all until he’s nudging her forwards and slipping into the bath behind her. He pulls her gently back against his chest.

“You’re surprised,” she tells him softly, letting her head loll back onto Rio’s shoulder, her eyes slip shut, feeling his hands stroke down her arms, one coming back up to cup her breast.

“Surprised he managed to trick another woman into gettin’ saddled with his ass, sure,” he replies easily, and Beth huffs out a laugh, beyond the point of being offended by anything Rio says about her and Dean’s marriage.

“You wanna beat him down the aisle?”

And just - - what?

Beth’s eyes snap back open, and she spins a little in the water to look at him, and it’s unfair, the mirth in his eyes, but also the - - something. She can’t quite read it, god, still can’t quite ever know him fluently, so she just squints at him.

4. The whole of Louder Now, Help Me Out

We’re extremely lucky in this fandom to have so many writers who are genuinely SO funny (including you!!), and I am not one of them, hahaha. I always feel like I tend to be a bit clunky when I try to write jokes, but occasionally I think I pull it off, and the installment where Marcus, Jane and Emma ask Beth about sex is one I’m pretty proud of. It still makes me grin when I read it, haha.

“Miss Elizabeth, do you and my daddy have sex?”

Somewhere inside, Beth can hear Kenny and Danny playing video games, can hear lunch gently simmering in the crockpot, can hear the faintest whir of the washing machine working through its cycle. Which is nice, she thinks blankly, her smile not shifting as she tries to process what Marcus has just said to her. She can’t quite look at Ruby, who even out of the corner of her eye she can see has her mouth hanging open, and she definitely can’t look at Annie, even if she does see her drop heavily back down into her chair (doesn’t even have to know for sure to know that she’s grinning).

Beth clears her throat, softening her gaze.

“Who told you that?” she asks, and beside him, Jane shrugs, a suspicious look on her face.

“Lucas Bircher. He said he saw his daddy naked and he put his penis inside his mommy’s butt and then his daddy told him that that was sex and it was how they made babies.”

“Not if it’s in her butt,” Ruby says quietly, taking a sip of her coffee when Beth spins around to glare at her. She drops her mouth open, planning to tell the kids what, she’s not sure, when Jane continues:

“But then we asked Kenny, and Kenny said growed-ups have sex because it’s fun and that you and Mr Rio do it all the time.”

5. Beth finds Rio with Marcus comes home after a bad job in Friar’s Lantern.

Angst though is something I think I write well, haha, and particularly crime-y angst. Friar’s Lantern is a story I was really excited to write, particularly in exploring the dynamic between Beth and Marcus, and the history of Rio and Laura. I liked the idea that Rio and Laura care about each other deeply, but that she was never in crime, and that she hit a breaking point with it in a way that made her really demand that Rio hide a part of himself from her.

In a lot of ways, Friar’s Lantern was about Beth doing the opposite, and demanding that he share himself instead. I wanted to parallel the moment a bit with the dubby too – with parenthood being central to both Beth and Rio’s vulnerabilities and something that has often lead to shifts in their dynamic – so Marcus’ teddy bear formed a really fun device in that sense. Also the image of a bloodied and bruised Rio bringing his son his stuffed animal was just the right sort of angst for me that day, hahaha.

His eyebrow split open, blood trickling from the skin there, down his temple. It looks like he’s swiped it back, once, twice, maybe three times, the blood smeared and dried, caking in his hair. There’s a deep bruise at his jaw, a deep, wide cut at his lip, like he was punched by somebody wearing a ring, and Beth’s gaze travels down him, only to have to swallow a gasp at the blood soaking through his shirt.

He watches her watch him, then says:

“Not all of its mine,” like it’s supposed to make her feel any better about it, and she hates that it does, because god, it’s selfish. She doesn’t want any of it to be his. It can all be the other guy’s. She wants it to be. She can’t summon the words to say anything – barely knows what to, and Rio suddenly jerks his head away from her, looking back at Marcus, and Beth exhales a breath she didn’t know she was holding to have his wounds out of sight again, however briefly.

“I won’t be long,” he says, eyes still on Marcus. “Just droppin’ Otis off, yeah?”

And - - what? Beth blinks, steps closer before she can help herself.

“Where are you going?” she asks, and Rio doesn’t pull his eyes away from Marcus, and Beth just - - stops. A foot or so away from him, and here she can see the blood’s thickest at the arm of his shirt, darkening the navy fabric, and it still looks wet, like maybe it’s still bleeding.

“Got a hotel.”

Beth tears her gaze away from his arm at that, looks up at him, watches him watch Marcus, and god, his jaw is already swelling.

“Why?”

And that’s enough to make him look back at her. Beth wets her lips, feels herself tremble, steps forward again, and when she touches his arm he flinches back like he’s been burned.

Top Five Moments I’m Looking Forward to in C&C

1. Finally writing the housewarming in See You in the Light. There will be drama! Beth will try to run away! Rio might break something! (And we all know how that usually ends, hahaha).

2. Beth and Rio getting married. I never, ever thought I’d write them getting married in any ‘verse, but once I realised the plot for it, it’s been stuck in my head. I have a pretty strong outline for the fic overall, so it’s definitely coming!

3. Another thing I never thought I’d write in this particular fandom was a pregnancy scare fic. I got a lot of C&C prompts for it though, and it’s actually teased out a pretty angsty installment in my head where they do have a scare and it makes them actually have to talk about what that looks like. In it, Beth confirms she doesn’t want anymore children, and Rio reveals that he would’ve liked one with Beth, but that he’d figured that it wasn’t on the cards. It ends up being a pretty bittersweet story where they’re both happy with what they have, but wonder what could’ve been, and what a child who was both of theirs might’ve been like.

4. On a much lighter note, I’ve had a ‘five things’ fic for ages which is actually just a time-jump fic with Beth and Rio teaching each of the five kids to drive, haha. It’s ridiculous, but hopefully pretty fun.

5. And there are a lot more too, but to bring this full circle, haha, there is an installment coming where Rio’s away for business, and, um. The security system is actually used. Think Panic Room vibes.

put “top 5” anything in my ask and i will answer ok go

#the center and circumference #this was extremely fun #omg now i want to write c&c fics haha #welcome to my ama #fic memes #bethrio

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ibitchytimemachine · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 53/? Fandom: Dragon Ball Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con Summary:

With Earth destroyed, Bulma and the Z gang find themselves in an outer space guerilla war against a tyrant. The mysterious Vengeance seems to be the only hope to win the war against Frieza, but teaming up with him brings its own set of problems.

AU, ensemble cast but with focus on BV. Several other pairings (m/F and m/m) and non-romantic relationships get significant screen time.

While Vengeance often appears to be a light-hearted, funny story, there are darker elements running through several storylines. Warnings of non-con are for isolated incidents and don't reflect the story as a whole, but explicit descriptions of sex, violence, and general depravity are contained within these chapters.

Of all the Vegebul fics I have read, this one is easily my favorite. It has nuance, gives (almost) every character full and rich motivations and story lines. You find yourself rooting for the oddest pairs and weirdest people. I can not recommend this story enough, and if you wanna read my thoughts on it, lets dive into spoilers below the cut!

So this story has something for everyone. You want thick well thought out and executed plot? DONE! Humor? DONE! Large cast of characters, both canon and OC who are all pretty well flushed out? DONE! Smut? Name your poison, chances are, its in here. There is so much about this story that I love that I am struggling with exactly the best way to organize my thoughts. So instead of agonizing over it, instead I am just gonna throw away all my careful notes that I have taken during my read and just freaking ramble!

I think the first thing that people are a little put off on is the rare pair of RaditzXPuar. I will tell you that I 5,000 percent ship these two and it is all because of reading this fic. I love it so much that I MAY have even taken some time to draw my own fan art for the pair, but lets just leave THAT in the vaults xD When Raditz first encounters Puar, he is NOT a cat. Puar is in a Human form and is shifted to be Bulma. Raditz immediately is attracted to Puar’s scent and when they later encounter each other in a bar and end up ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ ) Ray is still just enamored by Puar’s scent. Whenever we see Rays POV in-between the time that Ray has fucked Human Puar, and the time that Puar is discovered, Ray keeps catching scents of the cat. And it drives him fucking wild. He later says that he is so crazy for Puar that he was about to fuck a houseplant cause it reminded him of Puar. Beyond that we get the backstory on Bonding and that basically Saiyans bond to a mate kinda at random so Ray has basically taken Puar as his husband. Raditz is really a great lover, there is a relationship imbalance between the two, but Ray doesnt take advantage of it. Its really a pretty healthy relationship. Puar gets jealous of some stuff, Ray gets WAY jealous of stuff but they always seem to talk it over. Shit at one point Ray dreams of having kids with Puar, and he is swiftly reminded that Puar is a MAN and will never be and never wants to be a WOMAN.

A huge part of me feels like this Puarditz pairing is commentary on identity, self acceptance and love. Ray is constantly telling Puar that he doesnt care what his body looks like (except that he is excited to see Puar has a tail), only that it is Puar that he is in love with. It is only Puar Ray wants, no matter if he is a human, cat, plant, screwdriver or anything else. Puar talks about how he feels weird in his cat body, but it is his natural form and he wants to change and be bigger, more menacing, or just different. And I think we can all appreciate that sentiment at some point in our lives, but I can also see this as a low key message about trans acceptance and its fucking beautiful. Hell even Bulma tells Puar that he should take whatever form he is most comfortable in and basically fuck everyone who disagrees. I love that message and I love this pair - fight me.

I really want to talk about another pretty complex character in this fic, Zarbon. He struggles with so much shame and negativity in this story. He hides behind his good looks and his hair, and when that shit gets cut off, Zarbon is a completely different man, it is shedding his old evil skin and literally growing into his own as a new man, a better person, and you start to care about him. His time with Frieza has basically ruined his ability to have any sort of healthy relationship - friend or other, because he resorts to sex for just about any close relationship he has. The FIRST person he meets after being rescued from Frieza, he starts bedding. Hell he promises a pity fuck to Burter for rescuing him, and come on.. I have never wanted a Burger sex scene more than when I was reading this fic. No really... Catgirl has a way of making you root for just about everyone... I think that besides the slavers, the only character I HATE is Frieza, and thats pretty cool. AND Speaking of Frieza, shit hes a bad dude in this story. There aren't many POVs of him, and we see a lot of Frieza through Zarbon, Vegeta and Burter, but the POVs after Zarbon escapes and Frieza is trying to replace him is she fucked up shit. You really see his madness when he is sitting in the bloody tub stroking the hair of the dead attendant wishing it was Zarbons. He repeatedly states how much he gave to Zarbon, and how he basically loved him, but then you see him torture the poor man, sexually assault him, and generally just be a complete tyrannical asshole to him.

The way the Nameks are handled is really cool. I love the nod to canon with them living with the Briefs on Red Station, I love watching Dende figure out how to lead, and struggle with his followers. I love how he makes the decision to room with Gohan as a way of bridging the gap between the Namekians and the Saiyans. The decisions Dende makes shows that he is dedicated to moving forward and not being stuck in the past. But you see him still struggling with things in the past, Zarbon for example. it is hella tense for a while when he first comes aboard because Dende feels Zarbon is responsible for the demise of his people, and Dende seeks out others help and advice on how to manage his feelings. He gets several peoples views and chooses what he thinks is the best, just like a good leader would. He even attempts to make Piccolo feel more welcome in the Namekian contingent of beings on Red Station.

Nappa is a super important character for the beginning of the story. He is the voice of Saiyan past and he advises Vegeta, wether he takes the advice or not. Overall he is the Father figure Vegeta needs (a common role for him) but he tells Vegeta and Raditz about bonding and Gohan comments that it sounds like LOVE. Nappa has some really shitty moments with Bulma, but overall I really like the sweet peeks into his head, when he thinks about his dead wife and babies, or when he tears up about the thought of Bulma and Vegeta having “little princes” of their own, is just heartwarming. And the attraction to Momma Briefs is cute and funny and provides so much ammunition for Bulma to hate Nappa (and boy do they hate each other)

I kinda hate how K18 gets treated in this story, and part of that is how long it takes for 18 to come about, and another part of that is the fact that the story isn't finished. I feel like 18′s android qualities are REALLY played up, which isn't a bad thing - great characterization in fact... but poor Krillin deserves so much better than being mounted with no foreplay and then immediately being engaged... Now I will say that I really like both of these characters in this fic, just wish things were finished cause their relationship has so much more to explore.

I have both love and hate the Vegebul relationship dynamics in this story. They obviously care for one another, but the relationship seems super unhealthy... there is really no talking, relationship building going on in story. a LOT of fucking sure, but it almost feels like these two banter, fuck but don't really know one another.. and thats kinda sad.. I like that part of a Vegebul fic. Bulma is legit scared of Vegeta on multiple occasions and even in the last published chapter Vegeta looks at her and thinks that she is a monster just like him. And hell with her improvements to the Ki Circlet, she probably is. I will say that their smut is A++ fantastic, it is real, sometimes it is awkward (when they fuck in her lab it is both hot and funny) and there is always a mention of safe sex.

With all the time spent on, pretty much everyone, including 2 OCs, it is sad that 17, Dr. Briefs and Tien don't get a little more love. They have very very brief scenes peppered throughout the story, and they just seem like after thoughts.. Shit Roshi and Oolong have more impact on the story than any of these three do and thats just a bummer. I am gonna say that maybe they have parts in the unwritten bots of the fic, but who knows if it will ever be updated, much less finished at this point.

This story is fantastic. I can not recommend it enough. The relationship dynamics alone are fantastic, never mind the fact that Catgirl is FUCKING FANTASTIC at showing not telling, but even when she tells it is impactful. She has a wonderful grasp of character voice and each POV feels like it is actually that characters POV, told through them, not through the lens of a narrator. There are some amazing quotes in this story, some are just funny,

Others.. Not so much....

These are a bunch of misfits thrown together, fighting to survive, and ultimately building a home. Hell Zarbon sees it and is shocked by it.. He says he is amazed by Vegeta “Floating around this country cottage of a ship, lord and master of an assortment of weaklings.” And Zarbon is right. Vegeta is the lord and master of this rag tag crew, and Bulma is their Queen. Their relationship is the glue that holds this little family together. This story is a tale of their struggle to defeat Frieza, but thats not what this story is ABOUT. This story is about, family, friends, love, home and ultimately all the wholesome things humanity has to offer. Sometimes we fuck up, and fight and create drama, but we persevere through those trials and (hopefully) become stronger, more well rounded and more human. And that is a really nice message.

As a bonus, @rutbisbe drew this amazing Puar/Raditz fan art for this fic and I love it (AND I LOVE THEM SO MUCH)

If you liked this review, after you check this fic out, head over to my A03 and read some of my stuff!

#BTM Fic Review #vengeance #Vegeta x Bulma #go read this freaking fic #its my absolute favorite #I really need an update #PLZ catgirl

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missolitude · 6 years ago

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CarolEve, once again for both ship asks ;*

Part III of III (Find Part I here and Part II here)

[Ask meme]

who’s the cuddler: They are both rather touch starved, Eve because she didn’t have what you’d call a healthy relationship with Niko and Carolyn because she doesn’t allow herself the vulnerability of true intimacy. One day when Eve is emotionally rattled and they are both in the elevator, Carolyn suddenly takes Eve’s hand. Eve doesn’t know whether this is just emotional manipulation or a means to exercise control but it works like a charm and she feels grounded. This happens a couple more times, each time when Eve is about to do something rash or impulsive and Carolyn is beside her, Carolyn reaches out and briefly takes Eve’s hand or rests her hand on top of her shoulder and Eve relaxes.

They often spend evenings together at Carolyn’s house and talk, have a glass of wine, and there are moments when Carolyn gets distracted and stares out of the window. Eve then looks at Carolyn and wonders if she ever gets lonely. Does she have anyone she can talk to? Does she have any true friends in her life that she trusts, people who know everything about her? Eve just intuitively reaches out and puts her hand on top of Carolyn’s. Carolyn almost seems startled at first, but then she looks into Eve’s eyes and something is different, whatever Carolyn usually holds back is now entrancingly close to the surface. But the moment is gone as quickly as it came, Carolyn merely gives her a small smile, withdraws and just pets the back of Eve’s hand in a conciliatory gesture, after which the evening resumes normally.

It’s a slow process until their small gestures grow more familiar, feel less out of place, but at some point little touches become a habit. Eve is the one who will at some point initiate an awkward hug and Carolyn doesn’t withdraw, nor really reciprocate, so Eve knows whatever she’s doing isn’t unwelcome. With every repeat Carolyn becomes more comfortable, even relaxes, and finally wraps her own hands around Eve’s waist. Building up trust with Carolyn is a long game since Carolyn doesn’t meet Eve halfway, she lets Eve go all the distance, just to see if she will. Carolyn tests Eve with every move and Eve knows Carolyn will withdraw her trust and favor any second she feels the need to.

who makes the bed: Neither. Eve is naturally rather messy and Carolyn just has other priorities. It’s safe to say that neither of them is very domestic. Also, they both leave behind quite the chaos in hotel rooms when they’re abroad or on a mission. Carolyn makes sure Eve doesn’t forget anything important, like her tablet or her head.

who wakes up first: Carolyn. She is the first one to wake up and the last one to go to bed. Eve doesn’t know how Carolyn does it but it often seems as though she only needs the bare minimum of sleep to function. In actual fact Carolyn has just mastered the art of power napping. She can close her eyes anywhere and sleep for a couple of minutes and then wake up and act as though she hasn’t missed a beat.

who has the weird taste in music: Eve’s taste in music is more mainstream, Carolyn’s is rather eccentric. She listens to anything that strikes her fancy, musical theatre, classical music, reggae, old style disco music, swing, she also knows a lot of Russian songs and is a good dancer.

who is more protective: Neither, really. Carolyn is mostly protective of herself and her son. This will always take top priority, and would not change for anyone, not even people she has romantic feelings for, if she ever had them. She would put the mission and valuable assets above her own well-being but that barely qualifies as being protective, it’s her job. Eve seems to lack a basic preservation instinct, it is often overridden by her curiosity and her impulsiveness. Perhaps she would go out of her way to save Carolyn but it depends on her mood on that day and on the gravity of the situation. But let’s be real, Carolyn can take care of herself better than Eve ever could.

who sings in the shower: It’s not unusual for Carolyn to listen to music or whistle or hum a tune when she showers. She may seem scatter-brained or distracted in those moments but It helps her relax and turn off her busy mind.

who cries during movies: Carolyn. She compartmentalizes her feelings and barely allows herself sentimental attachments in real life, but she uses fiction as a safe outlet to do that. She can get rather emotional and sentimental over books, shows and movies, and always has some Kleenex ready when she watches or reads something. She wouldn’t share these moments with anyone she doesn’t trust.

who spends the most while out shopping: Carolyn. She has expensive taste in fashion, she only uses the best and most effective cosmetic products and she always likes to look her best. Having any exterior imperfections would equate weakness, an opportunity for someone else to analyze her and she cannot have that.

who kisses more roughly/ who is more dominant: Carolyn has many techniques to manipulate and control other people, sex and seduction is part of the game she plays. Eve is unpredictable and impulsive and as much as Carolyn doesn’t like that in a professional sense, it very much intrigues her on a physical level. Eve challenges her and often takes her by surprise with a move she cannot anticipate because Eve doesn’t follow any patterns. It isn’t easy to dominate Eve and that thrills and excites her.

my rating of the ship from 1-10: A full 10. They are challenging to write since Carolyn is such an outlandish goofball and an unreadable enigma all at once, and Eve is well… Eve, but I think they have an interesting dynamic. They wouldn’t work in any conventional sense by any means but that’s the fun of it, and there is definitely quite some canonical subtext between them.

It would have to be a cat and mouse game and a slow burn, I doubt they will ever fully trust each other until Carolyn’s motives are revealed and Villanelle is out of the picture but I definitely wanna explore them more in drabbles and fics so if you have any requests or prompts feel free to send them my way

#caroleve #carolyn martens #eve polastri #killing eve #carolyn x eve #eve x carolyn #ballion #missolitude replies

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luftballons99 · 7 years ago

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how alone you are

fandom: Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler

relationships: Platonic Sebastian Michaelis & Ciel Phantomhive (s*baciel shippers don’t touch!)

summary:

“I have no one,” Ciel whispers, shaking. “I have no one.”

“You have me, my lord, until I bring you victory,” Sebastian assures him softly.

Ciel lets out a short, frost-bitten laugh. “Until you claim my soul,” he corrects.

A Faustian pact is a poor cure for nightmares.

tags: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, platonic fluff, Platonic Relationships, seriously if you ship seba/ciel dont touch this fic please, Trauma, References to Book of Murder and Book of Circus, venting, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Banter

chapters: 1/1

read it on ao3 here or under the cut

(i dont know why but somehow i found myself catching up all the way on the black butler manga after years of not reading it and was hit with the urge to write a fic that 1) explores sebastian and ciel's dynamic as unlikely friends(???) and 2) allows ciel to reach something of an emotional catharsis with the help of the only person (entity?) who, for better or for worse (probably for worse), actually understands him (kinda). they're both incredibly tough characters to write so i hope i at least somewhat got their personalities right? the idea of ciel venting is in and of itself pretty ooc but i suppose if any fanfiction was perfectly in character, it would all be canon, so. yknow.

anyway i cannot stress this enough i do not want any s*baciel shippers in my notifs ok? don't comment. don't even look at this fic. though i guess if youre reading this you already did, in which case, fuck you for not checking/straight up ignoring the tags. point is i dont wanna hear any shippy shit alright keep it classy. ciel's 13, give him a break. he needs a guardian, not a love interest, especially not one thats thousands of years older than him. yikes.)

There are some things - however few - that Sebastian cannot protect him from.

He is content to leave it that way, at first. It’s not his job to be a shoulder to cry on or to chase away nightmares. That was never part of their deal and he wagers that Ciel would prefer to keep it that way. Whether it is because of self-delusion or pride, he will not confide in Sebastian; not when it comes to the scars that lie beneath his skin, invisible but lethal. And truthfully, it is just as well; Sebastian is unsure what he would even do with the information. Handling someone’s emotions without exploiting them is not really his area.

All he needs to do is keep Ciel alive and healthy. All he needs to do is watch the corpses pile up at the foot of Ciel’s throne. All he needs to do is kill some time before his next meal.

And yet all Ciel needs to do to keep Sebastian at his heel is call his name.

And that, as much as it pains Sebastian sometimes, was very much part of the deal.

It has been a while since Ciel has had a nightmare; at the very least, it’s been a while since he’s had one terrifying enough to rip a grating shriek of his butler’s name from his lungs and through the quiet air of the Phantomhive manor. Sebastian has noticed, however, that Ciel has not been sleeping well, regardless. Just this morning, the young lord nearly fell asleep on his feet as Sebastian slipped his silk eyepatch on for him, and then later did fall asleep in his study, drooling into the pages of a book. Something is weighing on his mind, and while usually Sebastian would argue that it’s none of his business what goes on in his little lord’s head, it seems to be becoming his business right now as he rises from his desk and ascends the stairs to answer his master’s call.

He is at Ciel’s door in a matter of seconds and, because no one is around to see it, conjures a tray of warm milk and honey with an elegant flourish of his wrist. He sighs inwardly. He knows that Ciel is still plagued with trauma; has ruined too many gloves wiping vomit off the corner of Ciel’s mouth and reminded him to breathe too many times to forget. Still, he was hoping that his young master would have grown out of his nocturnal panic attacks by now.

After all, a violent flashback while witnessing a child’s murder makes sense to him. A nightmare after a quiet, peaceful evening at home does not.

Regardless, Sebastian dutifully knocks on Ciel’s door three times, signalling his presence. He waits before entering, watching the warm milk he prepared ripple in the flickering candlelight illuminating the hallway. He hopes the young master has enough sense to swallow his pride and invite him in before it gets cold.

“Sebastian?” he hears Ciel call after a moment, his voice raspy and muffled on the other side of his door.

Slowly, Sebastian pushes it open and steps inside. Warm light from the hall spills into the room, a slant of yellow cutting across the young master’s trembling form, tucked deep under the covers. It disappears as Sebastian shuts the door behind him.

“That’s right, my lord,” he replies softly. He balances the tray in one hand as he walks toward the sconce attached to the wall by Ciel’s bed. Knowing that Ciel will want to be able to see him clearly, he pinches the wick of the candle between his forefinger and thumb, and when he lowers his hand, a small flame has already begun to burn at the tip.

Sheets rustle as the young master stirs, emerging from his linen cocoon with a white-knuckled grip on his thick blanket and a terrified stare aimed at Sebastian. Sebastian smiles down at him pleasantly, unfazed by his master’s horror. He sets the tray down on Ciel’s nightstand and wordlessly spoons honey into his cup of milk.

“Nightmare, master?” he asks idly, stirring. Ciel doesn’t answer, still busy panting from lingering panic. “It has certainly been a while since I’ve had to come feed you milk in the middle of the night like a starving pup- “

“You shut your mouth this instant ,” Ciel barks, voice raw and loud and sudden enough to make Sebastian’s hand still and his eyes go wide, his smile slipping cleanly off his lips and leaving his expression blank. He glances up from the tray he brought, meeting Ciel’s multicolored glare. “You forget your place, butler .”

Sebastian releases the spoon he was holding, letting it clink lightly against the rim of the cup. He places a hand over his heart and bows deeply.

“My apologies, my lord,” he says evenly and, because he is sure Ciel won’t be able to see it from this angle, arches an eyebrow at the floor in incredulity. His young master certainly has a shorter fuse than usual this evening. It is true what they say about children becoming agitated when deprived of their nap-time. “Please forgive me.”

He remains still, awaiting the boy’s response. It comes a moment later in a frightened, colorless whisper.

“Come here,” Ciel says, lacking his usual authoritative tone. It’s like he’s reverted back to how he was on that first night, skinny and quivering and sick with fear. The only difference now is that he’s a few inches taller and that instead of smacking Sebastian away and commanding him to keep his distance, he seems to need human proximity - or the closest thing to it he can get his hands on. Sebastian glances up, taking a step forward and kneeling obediently at his master’s bedside.

Ciel regards him fearfully, as if Sebastian might disappear into thin air like smoke from a snuffed out candle. He reaches out a small hand from underneath the covers and curls his nimble fingers into the collar of Sebastian’s shirt. He squeezes and releases the crisp fabric repeatedly, like he needs to make sure both it and Sebastian are really there.

Sebastian remembers something Doctor Arthur said on his first and final visit to the manor; about how, in sleep, the young master looks a little less like an Earl and a little more like a Ciel. He may posture as much as he wishes, but he will always remain that battered little boy sticking his blood-brown hands out from in between the grimy bars of his cage; the boy who was forced to grow up so fast that he didn’t truly grow up at all. The boy who spit upon God and shook hands with the devil. The boy who chose hell over happiness.

“What is it, my lord?” Sebastian asks, curious and amused as Ciel continues to pat down the front of his jacket with frantic hands. They still suddenly, cupped around Sebastian’s shoulders as the young Earl thinks, his face indecipherable. Sebastian looks up at him, waiting patiently.

Ciel’s face crumples like parchment over an open flame. The ominously glowing magenta mark of the covenant in his right eye flickers as he blinks back his tears.

“I’ve had enough,” he whispers, voice trembling - from rage or sorrow, Sebastian is not sure. Rage at his own sorrow, perhaps. His fingers dig into Sebastian’s shoulders, tight like twin mouse traps. If Sebastian were human, he might flinch. “I’ve had enough of this.”

Sebastian places his hand over one of Ciel’s in what he thinks is a reassuring gesture. “Enough of what, my lord?” he wonders.

“I asked you,” Ciel starts, gritting his teeth, “for power. That was our deal, demon.”

Sebastian cocks his head to the side. “Has my service been unsatisfactory?”

Ciel smacks his palm over Sebastian’s mouth. Sebastian blinks. He does not try to pry his master’s hand away, even though it would be easy. He could snap Ciel’s arm like a twig, if he wanted to, and has mused about doing so before. But they have a deal, and it demands that Sebastian never let any harm come to a single hair on Ciel’s head. And besides, it has been a while since Ciel, difficult as he is, has inspired any violent inclinations in him, and that includes now.

“I asked you for power,” the boy continues, “and yet my mind remains weak.” His voice tapers off into barely a whisper, as if he’s still afraid of admitting it out loud - even to someone who already knew. The true horror for Ciel, Sebastian knows, is not so much the torture he endured three years ago, but the fruitlessness of his efforts to take vengeance.

“The dreams do not cease,” he hisses in disgust with himself, “and I will never leave my cage.”

Sebastian is quiet for a long moment. He could say, This is the lightless path you chose. He could say, There is a difference between power and strength. He could say, You are only human. And he could spend the rest of the night with a red, stinging cheek as a result.

Ciel’s hand slips from Sebastian’s face and grips the silky lapel of his jacket. He seems to want an answer, after all.

“My lord, you are overtired,” Sebastian says gently, deciding to hedge his bets. “Please help yourself to the milk I brought; it may soothe your nerves.”

Ciel scoffs, releasing Sebastian’s jacket and hugging his knees. Sebastian stands and attends to the tray he left on Ciel’s night table, letting his hand hover over the cup of milk and feeling satisfied when it warms his palm. It hasn’t gone cold quite yet.

“I’m not a child,” Ciel spits suddenly. If it weren’t for his small stature, anyone else might believe him. He carries the title of Earl and the weight of the underworld with it on his tiny shoulders and not once has anyone but Sebastian seen him buckle under the weight - and even that is a rare thing. He’s proud, he’s greedy. He’s the worst that humanity has to offer, and he’s the best at being so.

He’s thirteen.

“Of course not, my lord,” Sebastian says graciously, though the amusement in his tone is not lost on his master, who snaps his head up and seems to bristle like a cornered cat. “Shall I take it away, then?”

Ciel’s response is an immediate, “No.” Sebastian grins down at him knowingly. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“That smile. It makes me sick.”

Sebastian picks up the cup with one hand and tucks his smile behind the other. “Please accept my sincerest apologies once again, young master,” he says, voice wavering as he tries not to laugh.

“Your ‘sincerest apologies’ don’t do me any good, Sebastian,” Ciel points out hotly, accepting his cup when it is offered to him. “Just do as you’re told.” When he looks up at Sebastian, his eyes are still glassy with poorly-masked fear. His emotional refractory period is not as short as he would like his butler to believe.

Sebastian watches Ciel peer down into his cup with a shaky sigh before taking a tentative sip of from it. After ascertaining that it isn’t too hot, he closes his eyes and tilts his head back as he continues to drink. Eventually, he lowers the cup so it rests in his lap, held in place by his small hands. His eyes remain closed as he takes a steadying breath.

“Are you sure you’re alright, young master?” Sebastian pries gently.

“My emotional state is none of your affair,” Ciel shoots back, eyes still stubbornly shut.

Sebastian’s eyebrow twitches in irritation. Obstinate brat.

“I see,” he says, tone cold. “That must be why you summoned me to your chambers in the middle of the night. Of course. How foolish of me.” He gives Ciel an icy look, patience wearing thin.

(Yes, he is immortal, and yes, he will have an eternity left at his disposal long after Ciel has died, but hours of managing the boy’s schedule while attending to the daily calamities the other Phantomhive servants cause has made him reluctant to waste time. Every minute he spends in Ciel’s chambers is a minute not spent planning their itineraries for the coming day or preemptively preparing himself mentally for his coworkers’ blunders.)

On that very first night, Ciel ordered him to never lie. Sebastian had figured out quickly that the little lord would not afford him the same luxury.

Ciel gapes up at him, appalled. “ Excuse me,” he starts indignantly, “Since when do I owe you an explanation for my orders?”

“I would never dream of expecting such a thing,” Sebastian assures him, but they both know it’s insincere. “I simply wished to express my concern for…”

He lets the statement taper off into silence when he realizes what he’s trying to say, his jaw going slack before his mouth snaps shut.

Ciel’s eyes shoot wide open before narrowing into skeptical slits, luminous amethyst and candle-lit sapphire shimmering through his lashes. “Your concern for what?” he asks, insistent but wary.

Sebastian considers his master for a moment, thinking. So much for hedging his bets.

“...Your well-being,” he answers finally, and it isn’t until the words slip off his tongue that he tastes their truth. He blinks.

Ciel’s brows pinch together, the eyes underneath searching Sebastian’s face like a bandit looting a vagrant’s corpse. He flounders. Finally, in a test of Sebastian’s meaning, he says, “Your concern is unwarranted. As you can see, I am not injured.”

And it is true - Ciel is healthy as can be; he hasn’t suffered so much as a papercut in over a month. And it has been, by all accounts, a quiet, peaceful evening.

And yet Sebastian has not felt at ease ever since he heard his master scream.

“Indeed,” he says thoughtfully, brows knitted, “but it is not an injury that had you calling my name.”

Ciel’s eyes widen as he looks up at Sebastian, stunned. “I’m fine now,” he insists after a moment, suddenly impatient.

“‘Fine’ has variable definitions,” Sebastian points out and Ciel rolls his eyes, “None of which I would use to describe your current - “

“So what?” the young master demands, incensed, the very foundations of the manor Sebastian built him quaking at the sound of his voice. Sebastian closes his mouth. “I’m alive. That is all that has ever mattered to me.” Ciel’s thin fingers press tighter around his cup of milk as if he’s trying to crush the delicate, flowery design painted on its exterior into oblivion.

What outstanding hypocrisy. Sebastian has had enough.

“You,” he begins in a rough sigh before dropping into a crouch in front of his master, unimpressed, “are quite the nuisance.”

Ciel gapes, immediately raising one hand high. Sebastian’s arm snaps forward before the young lord’s palm can make contact with the side of his face and squeezes his brittle wrist tight.

Ciel flinches, fear striking his features like lightning, and Sebastian is surprised when he doesn’t feel satisfaction at the sight. When did that change? He loosens his grip, but does not let go.

“How dare you ,” Ciel spits, outraged. Tears blur and distort the smoldering mark of their covenant. Still, he swallows a hiccup and growls, “You are trying my patience, Sebastian.”

“What a coincidence,” Sebastian remarks, feigning enthusiasm. “You are trying mine.”

The dam breaks. “You insolent - ” Ciel begins in an angry sob, face twisted in agony, but cannot seem to struggle to the end. His gem-like eyes overflow, his princely nose leaks, his heart-shaped face is blotchy and red. In this moment, he is no Earl.

Why, then, should Sebastian masquerade as his butler?

“It is your stubborn refusal to confront your emotions that results in these puerile night terrors of yours and my subsequent subjection to your misdirected, hysterical outbursts,” Sebastian informs him strictly, red eyes cold. Ciel, through slime and salt water, manages a powerful glare and a snarl. Sebastian is undeterred. “Therefore, if there is so much as a ghost of a chance that you airing your grievances now will result in even a single night more uninterrupted by this nonsense, I believe it is in our best interest to take it, wouldn’t you agree?”

Ciel begins to wrench his wrist out of Sebastian’s grasp and Sebastian allows it, even though he anticipates the sharp slap to his cheek that follows. He sighs loudly in annoyance and looks at the floor, listening to the boy in front of him sniffle and hiccup pathetically. He takes a moment to compose himself; to let the flicker of anger in his chest to go out, eyes falling shut.

He does not anticipate Ciel’s arms hooking around his neck in a distraught embrace.

Sebastian tries to remember the last time he was held.

It was probably by Mey-Rin; she trips over her skirt or her shoelaces or other people’s shoelaces or the floor at least twice a day, and it is often Sebastian who catches her before she falls and breaks her nose - or worse, the dishes she carries. And though the encounter did not leave much of an impression on him, he did sleep with Beast to find information about her benefactor.

This, however, is obviously, markedly different. This is his young master. This is a child desperate for emotional reprieve. This is a little boy in need who would rather die than admitting so.

Carefully, Sebastian places his hand on Ciel’s head, cautious and curious as to how it feels to comfort someone he’s actually invested in. He smooths over Ciel’s tousled dark hair; feels tears seep into the collar of his shirt; thinks vaguely about all the laundry that’s piled up this week. Ciel shivers against him pathetically, muffled whimpers spilling from his lips into Sebastian’s shoulder, and Sebastian keeps stroking his head the same way he’d stroke a cat’s - sans the enamored cooing.

“I hate this,” Ciel grits out spitefully, yet holds Sebastian tighter. Sebastian chuckles softly, amused by the contradiction. Ciel always has been a walking, crawling, squirming juxtaposition.

“If I may be so bold, my lord,” Sebastian offers quietly, “You need this.”

Ciel responds with a pitiful hiccup. Sebastian lifts the hand not occupied with Ciel’s hair and runs it down his back in slow motions that he can only guess are soothing.

“I have no one,” Ciel whispers, shaking. “I have no one.”

Sebastian almost asks, I thought you had no need for emotional attachments? , but manages to restrain himself. Now is not the time for banter, and he’s already been slapped once tonight.

“You have me, my lord, until I bring you victory,” Sebastian assures him softly.

Ciel lets out a short, frost-bitten laugh. “Until you claim my soul,” he corrects.

Sebastian was not expecting that. They do not discuss that part of their deal often, despite both knowing its inevitability. Strangely, the pang of hunger he feels in his core at the reminder is accompanied by something else - different, but equally as painful. While hunger leaves him hollow, this seems to fill him past capacity. He is being torn apart.

“Victory first,” he vows after a quiet moment, suffocating his feelings like he would a kitchen fire. “You have my word, sir.”

Ciel’s fingers dig into Sebastian’s back as he buries his leaking nose deeper into the crook of his neck.

“How cruel,” he whispers bitterly, “that the same hand protecting me is the one by which I will die.”

Sebastian’s hand stills mid-stroke of Ciel’s ducked head. He had never thought about it like that. Ironic, yes. Poetic, yes. But never ‘cruel.’ When he thinks about it, he finds the word fits just as well.

“You chose this, my lord,” he reminds the boy and himself, but still does not feel absolved.

“Indeed,” Ciel agrees and holds Sebastian tighter. He is never this clingy unless his life is in danger. Sebastian supposes that, in a sense, it is.

“Now, now, sir,” he chuckles, slowly leaning out of Ciel’s embrace. It is late, they have a busy day ahead of them, and one of them has to be the first to stop playing house. “I have kept you awake for far too long already.”

Ciel’s arms loosen around Sebastian’s neck as he pulls away, though his hands remain clasped at its base. His eyes are swollen red, his cheeks flushed and glittering with moisture to match. Sebastian tuts lightly and shakes his head as Ciel sniffles, reaching into his pocket and producing a handkerchief. He rubs the boy’s cheeks and nose clean, suddenly rocked by the memory of the last time he had to do this - just under three years ago. Ciel was ten and still readjusting to life outside of cages and cult rituals. It took a while before he started bothering to wipe his mouth after a glass of milk or his nose after a sneeze, and it was Sebastian who would remind him by example.

Once again he is filled with that emotion he cannot place. Confusion wrinkles his brow and parts his lips. Ciel seems to notice and gives him a curious look, but before he gets the chance to investigate, Sebastian is pulling his handkerchief away, slipping it into his pocket, and rising to his full height. Ciel’s mouth, which had fallen open when he meant to begin his interrogation, shuts silently. Sebastian cannot decide if it is a relief or not; that Ciel isn’t prying.

(He wonders - long after tonight - what Ciel does not say.)

When Ciel finally does speak, it is to interrupt Sebastian’s movement to extinguish the candle bathing the room in soft orange light with a firm, “Wait.”

Sebastian tilts his head questioningly, retracting his hand. “Master?”

“The light,” Ciel says quietly, tired eyes drooping as he looks up at his butler; his confidant; his murderer. “I like it. Don’t put it out until after I’ve fallen asleep.”

Sebastian smiles, deciding it is safe to tease once again. “The esteemed Earl Phantomhive, unable to sleep without a nightlight. How sweet,” he cooes, a hand over his heart. Ciel narrows his eyes at him. “Shall I tell you a bedtime story while I’m at it, my lord?”

“I dare you,” Ciel challenges him irritably. Sebastian knows better than to accept. He grins and watches Ciel’s eyes fall shut.

“Then I take it I am not yet permitted to retire for the evening?” he asks with a put-upon sigh.

“Do you even sleep?” Ciel wonders flippantly in a yawn that he does not bother to cover with his hand. He rolls onto his back and pulls the covers up to his chin.

Sebastian is surprised, but not put-off, by his master’s interest. “No, sir,” he says, “however, like you, I do require rest.” He pauses, chuckling. “Though obviously not as much as humans do.”

Ciel snorts. “Obviously.”

“Well then, master,” Sebastian begins pleasantly, standing with his back to the wall adjacent to Ciel’s bed, “I will remain by your side until you fall asleep.” And until the day where you do not wake up again.

Ciel hums in acknowledgement, rolling onto his side away from Sebastian and curling into a crescent shape against the mattress. Sebastian, although - or perhaps because - his master can’t see him, allows himself a genuine smile. There will be no more nightmares tonight and, hopefully, for the foreseeable future.

“Sebastian,” he hears the young lord say suddenly and glances up to the back of his head, dark against the soft white of his downy pillows.

“My lord?” Sebastian prompts softly, standing at attention.

There is a long pause before Ciel speaks again - so long that Sebastian wonders if the boy has finally succumbed to sleep - but just when it seems like the conversation is over, Ciel breaks the silence once again with a firm, albeit sleepy, “You did well today.”

Sebastian blinks. He has lived a long time; has seen many things and met many people. He is not easily stunned.

Hearing those words from his master, however, will shake him every time.

I invoked your ire to the point where you slapped me, part of him - the same part that got him slapped, incidentally - wants to remind the boy, but he keeps his quip to himself. They have gone back and forth enough for one night. Surely there is no harm in accepting the gift of his master’s acclaim.

“My lord, I am most honored by your praise,” he tells him, smiling in gratitude and pride. “If I may offer my own - “

“Oh, spare me. All I did was ruin your shirt with my stress-induced optic and nasal secretions.”

Sebastian grimaces at Ciel’s wording. “Now, my lord, surely there is a more graceful way to - “

“Just accept the compliment without patronizing me, Sebastian,” Ciel huffs, frustrated, and rolls over to meet his butler’s eyes. He points at him decisively. “That’s an order.”

Sebastian, still smiling, sighs and raises his hands in surrender. “As you wish, young master,” he concedes.

With a final nod and fluff of his pillow, Ciel settles under his covers. When his eyes shut this time, Sebastian knows they will not open again until morning. He shakes his head, leaning back against the wall with crossed arms as he watches the young lord’s thick covers rise and fall with each of his steady breaths. When Sebastian is sure Ciel is asleep, he extinguishes the light. The room plunges into the comforting darkness of night, softened by milky rays of moonlight filtering in through the window.

Sebastian collects the tray and dishes he brought, being sure not to make a sound when he lifts them up from Ciel’s nightstand. He glances down at the boy over his shoulder before making his way out of the room, remembering his words - You did well today, Sebastian.

A bittersweet smile forms on his lips as he pushes Ciel’s door open. With one last look back at his master’s sleeping form, Sebastian whispers, “As did you, my lord,” and slips out of the room.

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #ciel phantomhive #sebastian michaelis #fanfiction #fic #my fic

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onceuponamirror · 7 years ago

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11 questions game

tagged by @raptorlily, who prepared 11 questions for her tag-ees:

1. The core four + Kevin and Cheryl are attending a literary character party. What costume does each of them wear? Bonus: What costumes are the Southside Serpent characters wearing?

OH BOY. well, betty is elizabeth bennett. her instinct is obviously be nancy drew, but then decides she wants to play dress up a little bit. she tries valiantly to get jughead into a darcy couples costume, but his instinct is to just be sal paradise because he won’t have to buy anything for the costume.

betty tells him that if she’s not going to be nancy, he should go outside the box too. he then decides on dressing like the titular mummy from jane loudon’s the mummy! (he’s still a weirdo, remember)

veronica goes as daisy buchanan if not purely for the extravagant opportunity to dress like a flapper, archie comes as jim hawkins from treasure island, cheryl bucks expectation and attends as a female robin hood (she already loves archery), and kevin is absolutely sherlock holmes. he’d look so natural in a trenchcoat!

2. What extracurricular activities are Reggie, Ethel, Fangs, Midge, Toni and Sweetpea involved in?

besides sports, reggie’s extracurricular activity is definitely selling ground up oregano to middle schoolers and telling them it’s weed.

ethel is canonically a drama geek and that’s valid, but she’s also probably in band. i’m gonna go with....flutist.

fangs is also canonically a drama geek and a regular geek (less we not forget jughead used a larping club to lure fangs out of a self-imposed suspension) so i honestly am just waiting for him and kev to start up their dungeons and dragons club. (wow they are perfect for each other tho??? a dorkier bughead)

midge (RIP) was probably into 4-H bc i can’t get the concept of “klump farms” out of my head. she seemed like a genuinely sweet person who also was a regular teenager and was a cheerleader and probably volunteered at hospitals too idk

toni wanted to get laid so bad she became a cheerleader. or, ok, seriously i mean my headcanon is like, it’s bring it on, where toni was into gymnastics and dance in a v serious way but southside didn’t offer any curriculars that would allow her to do that, and she couldn’t afford gymnastics herself. turns out the closest thing riverdale has is cheerleading, which’ll do.

sweet pea is probably the lowkey nerdiest of them all. i was joking earlier that he’s probably secretly into anime, but more seriously: feel like he’d go for basketball officially and also probably has an interest in engineering. i mean, that interest began with pipe bombs, but. yanno. ya dreams gotta start somewhere!!!

3. Give me three of your favourite headcanons for Reggie

had a crush on betty until high school

does his dumbest shit for his dad’s attention, painfully unsubtle about it

is cripplingly afraid of being alone, which is why he surrounds himself by teammates at all times and/or can’t get past the pack mentality. has difficulty being vulnerable in spite of all that, can’t be honest with himself and/or with others.

4. It’s Saturday night and the core four are all hanging out by themselves at home. What is each of them up to?

betty is listening to the memory palace podcast while laying on her bed, feet crossed up in the air, doing her homework. cleaned her room earlier. wants to call polly. she doesn’t. stays up till two am for no reason other than her room is warm and full of golden light and it’s the only time the house is quiet. plugged back in her old nightlight, half out of spite after polly nearly threw it out, half genuinely. sometimes she thinks she’s still afraid of the dark. the irony isn’t lost on her.

jughead is working on his novel, american crime story is playing on the TV in the background, a bag of popcorn slowly rotating in the microwave. the trailer is empty and he chooses to think his dad is at work. emails his sister. he doesn’t remember when, but they’ve stopped talking about their mom. his tattoo itches. toni told him not to scratch at it.

veronica is drinking chamomile tea on a tray, scrolling through pinterest and making a european vacation mood board for the post-graduation trip she’d like to take with her friends. she wants to surprise them with it, all-expenses paid. she resists the urge to book flights years in advance. browses the barney’s website. doesn’t know why she gets such a thrill from online shopping. isn’t sure why she can’t stop.

archie is in the garage, his fingers strumming aimlessly over the strings of his guitar. wonders why his mother can’t be a lawyer here in riverdale. isn’t sure if music was ever his own, or something he thought he should want, because he didn’t want to work construction. or worse, because a woman found it attractive. brought his history textbook out with the intention to study. doesn’t. practices wonderwall, even though jughead laughs whenever the song comes upon.

5. What’s your headcanon for Jughead’s hat? Why does he wear it? What’s the origin story?

his mom made it when he was a kid, and growing up in threadbare clothes donated down the line of serpents or thrift store finds, it was the one thing that was truly his---made for him. with love.

being scrawny and quiet and outgrowing his pants too fast to replace them already set him apart. might as well let the hat seal the deal.

6. What is your Riverdale guilty pleasure ship? One that you don’t necessarily ship in canon but wouldn’t mind reading fanfiction for?

don’t think i have one, honestly?

7. Can Chuck be redeemed in your eyes? Any caveats or things that would need to happen to make this count?

yeah, it’s really interesting answer this question post 2x18, but---yes, i definitely think chuck can be redeemed. i never wanted him to be a villain in the first place, for so, so many reasons.

i mean, comics!chuck was a deliberate bucking of specific stereotypes that riverdale slid right back into without seeming to think about what it was they were saying by doing that. (related readings: x) and then the way they did it---ack.

outside of the vacuum of comics vs. show, i think that where we’re at culturally, we’re really asking men to unlearn their toxic masculinity. especially of adolescents who are still growing and changing---and what chuck did was certainly part of the vacuum of male privilege/toxic masculinity, but he faced consequences for that, and then he acknowledged it. actively has announced he wants to change, and i genuinely believe it at this point.

and while i wish chuck wasn’t the character they’re doing this with in the first place, “cancelled culture” can be really frustrating because it’s way too binary. it undermines the growth and self-crit we want people to be doing.

obviously, it doesn’t apply unilaterally, some people are abusive or cruel or malicious to the point where they lose their ability to profit off of it, and rightfully so---but with a character like chuck, whose main crime appeared to just be slut shaming, i actually appreciate a narrative where a male character owns up to how that was bad, why it was wrong, and how they’re going to change.

8. What is a storyline you’d like to see most explored on the show?

just---more familial dynamics. i cannot wait for gladys and JB, i think that’s going to be so meaty and tragic and emotional in the right ways. i want more of polly and betty’s relationship, and/or how betty feels watching her sister run away constantly, or just their dynamic in general. more of archie and fred navigating dreams vs. reality. i kinda don’t love veronica’s parents tho, and i’m not sure where they could take that in a way that i enjoy.

9. What is your favourite Riverdale fanfic trope or cliché?

pining, man. just. pining.

10. What is existing scene or storyline would you rewrite to better suit your tastes?

HAH. how much time do we have

BONUS: Archie starts a band. He settles on ‘The Archies’ but what were some of the other suggestions for the band name? Name three songs that show up on their debut album.

jughead’s suggestion is: red drum, red drum and he thinks it’s hilarious

three songs: midnight ride, smoking gun, and can’t fly

my 11 questions for my taggees

1. which twist did you least see coming? genuinely.

2. we all know riverdale loves hopscotching through genre elements (true crime, musical, grease, etc), and sometimes it’s too much, but which has been your favorite? what other ones would you like to see from the show?

3. riverdale does dirty on its secondary characters. what storylines would you give to reggie, kevin, josie, etc? or, what would you like to see for them in s3? anything you thought the show really fumbled? did right?

4. what are your backstory headcanons for sweet pea, fangs, and toni?

5. what’s your theory on the old riverdale riots?

6. it’s the ten year high school reunion. where did everyone go to college? (core four + the secondary pals) what’s your headcanon for their future careers? who’s still together? who wishes they were still together? who hooks up unexpectedly in a storage closet?

7. what’s a storyline you just didn’t buy this season?

8. any headcanons for the riverparents? like, how they grew up, who they were in high school, why they went the directions they did?

9. what’s one trope that you’d wish the show would do? or something you wish you saw more in fic?

10. thoughts on reggie? will he ever be fleshed out? will it make him more of a villain, or less of one?

11. if you could have anything happen in s3, what would it be?

and i tag @village-skeptic @stillscape @sylwrites @lessoleilscouchants @myrmidonofmelodrama @heartunsettledsoul @raptorlily (tagging back, bc i want your answers on these too!) @theatreofexpression @imreallyloveleee

or anyone who wants to answer!!! just tag me, i wanna see yer answers. these games are fun

#tag games #chuck clayton #reggie mantle

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rorykillmore · 7 years ago

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alright this is a christmas gift for @digitaldragoon, who requested a heather chandler/heather duke daemon au fic! honestly having the chance to explore their relationship a little more introspectively was a blast (if also inevitably sad) and i do hope i wrote dontae okay. i went back and reviewed some headcanon posts about him but i was still like “I HAVEN’T SEEN HIM IN ACTION YET WHAT IF I’M NOT DOING IT RIGHT”

anyways, giz. thank you for being such a kind, loyal, and engaging friend for all these years. i always feel so encouraged to feel good about my own writing by you because your enthusiasm and interest in our dynamics always feels so genuine. and the feeling is more than mutual, because your ideas for interactions and the way you handle your characters make every rp with you worth looking forward to. i know that sometimes you have a harder time than you’re willing to admit, but in spite of all that, i’ve never seen you treat anyone with anything but kindness, interest, and sincerity, and it’s one of the things i admire most about you. i hope you know that even when you’re feeling at your lowest, your warmth is contagious enough to spread to all your friends.

merry christmas!!!

“It’s whatever. All our daemons are assholes.”

“Are you seriously not even going to tell me where we’re going?”

Heather Duke sounds vaguely annoyed which, granted, is pretty much standard for her. Heather herself shoots her a smirk -- although privately, she hopes she isn’t too seriously bothered. It’s hard to tell, sometimes, and she reminds herself that Duke can’t be blamed for not entirely trusting her.

“You’re gonna see in a minute. Hold your fucking horses,” she responds never the less.

At least Dontae doesn’t seem too visibly bothered, if that’s any indication. He’s fluttering along confidently at Duke’s heels, while Finley prowls at the other side of Heather’s, keeping a pointed distance. Heather will admit it, if only to herself: this bothers her a little. It’s not like Finley to be reluctant to engage other daemons, but he and Dontae do not exactly get along.

Whatever. If they can keep off each other’s throats for a couple hours, this will work -- or she hopes it will, anyway. They reach the storefront, and Heather Duke pauses, nonplussed as she squints up at the sign above them.

“Argosy --” She cuts off, and the tone of her voice changes slightly. “Argosy Books. This is the oldest bookstore in New York City.”

“And the biggest,” Heather adds, because they can’t forget that. From what she’s read online, she knows this place has six full floors of books -- many of them rare first editions. It seems right up Duke’s alley, although she can’t deny a part of her’s intrigued as well.

But this is supposed to be for -- her friend. She’s not shopping for herself today.

“I didn’t know what you wanted for Christmas. Or like, what you’ve already read,” she explains, downplaying. “So. Pick something, and I’ll buy it for you.”

Even Dontae has gone still now, his head cocked slightly to one side. Heather Duke blinks at her, surprise flitting across her face before she can stifle it. “Are you fucking with me?”

Heather tries to look nonchalant as Finley winds around her ankles. “It took us like, forty-five minutes to get here. I’m not gonna waste that much time on some joke.”

Duke looks back up at the sign, seemingly on the verge of hesitantly allowing herself to believe it. It prompts Heather to add, a little briskly, “Besides, you... deserve it.”

She can apologize all she wants, she figures, but she’s gotta back up her intentions somehow. At this point, all she wants is for things to be better -- better for all of them. There’s no point in staying pissed anymore. Sure, Duke might’ve been awful to McNamara, but she and Mac had been pretty shitty to Duke before that -- it all looped back around to that same, vicious cycle.

And she’d long since gotten tired of it.

Duke eyes her almost awkwardly, and then looks away again. “...Yeah. Well. I guess they might have something worth picking up. It can’t hurt to look.”

Heather smiles at her in lazy encouragement, not too concerned with trying to get her to drop those still-sometimes-prickly walls (they’re pretty much primarily defensive, she realizes at this point), and they head inside.

She knows this place is supposed to have a lot of books, but there are -- a lot of books. Scanning the maze-like shelves in silence, she feels a faint prickle of curiosity from Finley and doesn’t bother to stifle it (just like she hasn’t stifled his feelings throughout the entirety of this encounter, that mingled shame and pride and wary fondness he brims with whenever they’re around Heather Duke).

“I can’t believe this is just one floor,” Duke breathes beside her.

“Of six,” Heather adds, and they smile at each other for a fleeting moment.

Said moment is broken by none other than Dontae. Later, Heather might look back and think it was some kind of reaction to his person’s vulnerability - maybe him trying to protect her, in a way - but she feels rather than sees Finley get bowled off the shelf he’s leaped onto by one of Dontae’s wings.

She and Duke both whip around in time to see Finley scramble to his feet, spitting furiously. Dontae didn’t really hit him hard - it’s more outrage that Heather feels from him than pain - but she knows her own daemon, and she knows he’s not about to let something like this drop. He’s lashing out in the next moment, claws raking at Dontae’s wing, and Heather braces herself for a scuffle --

“Stop!” Duke snaps, and they all freeze.

Heather’s not sure why she didn’t expect the intervention. Stuff like this isn’t necessarily isolated to Finley -- Dontae picks fights often, and while she’s always gotten the feeling that Heather Duke doesn’t particularly like it, she’s never seen her confront her daemon in public.

“Can you go five minutes without causing drama?” she continues, glaring at him. “Christ. Like we don’t have enough of that to deal with.”

Dontae looks -- well, Heather can’t tell if it’s angry or ashamed, but he ducks his head, feathers ruffled uneasily. Whatever his intentions had been, Heather thinks he didn’t actually mean to upset his person.

The fur along Finley’s spine bristles still, but he casts a slow look from Heather Chandler to Heather Duke and back to Dontae -- and then starts to slink away. Uncharacteristically for them both, Heather is quick to scoop him up to try and circumvent any more trouble.

“Sorry,” Duke mutters to her.

Heather shrugs it off, in spite of the fact that she’s never sure what to make of Dontae’s general hostility. “It’s whatever. All our daemons are assholes.”

“Hey!” Finley protests from her arms, but she ignores him, smoothing over his fur where Dontae ruffled it.

“So,” she ventures in an effort to move past it. “Where should we start?”

Duke looks relieved to have the opportunity to go back to focusing on the books. She glances around, eyeing up some of the labels that designate the different sections. “I dunno. Wanna check out what they have in classic literature?”

Heather’s smile is a little more genuine, this time. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t share at least some of Duke’s fondness for it. “Sounds perfect.”

Classic Literature, as it turns out, is on the second floor, so they head upstairs together. Heather eventually feels that the coast is clear to let Finley go back to roaming on his own, and Dontae - well, Dontae doesn’t seem subdued, exactly, but he also doesn’t try bothering Finley again.

“Did you see what they want us to read for English once school starts up again?” Heather asks. If it’s a little gingerly, well -- there’d been a time, not so long ago, when both of them would’ve outwardly scorned talking about books. But a lot’s changed since then.

“To Kill A Mockingbird?” Duke almost smiles again.

“I thought it was funny. We read that in like, tenth grade, at our school.” Maybe the curriculum's a little more generalized here because of the rifts, Heather guesses. People from Narnia, or whatever the fuck, wouldn’t have read stuff like that.

“All of you read it in tenth grade. I read it in eighth.”

“Nerd,” Heather shoots back, but it’s borderline affectionate if anything. “You know, someone told me Harper Lee wrote a sequel -- like, really recently.”

Duke’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re fucking kidding me,” she blurts, and Heather can’t help but take some satisfaction in the fact that her news has its intended effect. “Finally.”

“Maybe they’ll have it here.”

There’s something content in the way they start browsing the shelves together -- something that feels almost alien, until Heather realizes it’s just that she hasn’t felt it in a long time. Not with Duke, anyway.

This is... nice. Even the daemons aren’t tense anymore.

She missed it, she admits to herself.

Maybe one day she’ll be able to say as much out loud.

#fic #digitaldragoon

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