i dunno what this is exactly i just tried... something

Okay, so earlier this day I read the latest chapter and instead of having my questions answered it just raised up more questions????? I didn’t try theorizing because tbh that’s not a field that I’m good at but I just wanted to share the questions that haunt me and if someone has answers I would really appreciate that

First of, who tf is our!ciel now??? Honestly, I thought that this chapter might answer this question but then Yana decides to fuck us up???

So if that’s real!Ciel I feel very conflicted rn, because what about our!Ciel??? What does this make him?? And what made him look so physically pained? What is their story and what happened between them?

As I continued really I hoped my question would be answered but then this slide happened

What exactly did Sebastian do to the real!Ciel??? What exactly even pushed our!Ciel to order Sebastian into doing something to his twin brother? Did real!Ciel possibly have something to do with how our!Ciel was treated? But then again, they were only kids how would they have understood? Also, how did the real!Ciel survive Sebastian’s ‘whatever it was’ that he had done to him and what exactly did he do to him? Because damn does someone look angryyyyy and like is he also possibly contracted with a demon? Because seriously… How did he survive??? Unless Sebastian really tried hiding something from our!Ciel but that couldn’t be it because Sebastian also looks confused and a bit surprised during this chapter also it’s already been said that Sebastian can’t lie to our!Ciel so I really dunno man

Also the fact that Tanaka knew what had happened

this makes me wonder just how much Tanaka knows about the whole situation and if he knows about Sebastian’s real nature and our!Ciel’s contract?




I mean for him to think like that his family must’ve treated him in a certain way right? And why was he chosen to be the spare?

Our!Ciel obviously went through a lot that tbh at this point I just want to see him happy at least once even if that’s when Sebastian has to take his soul I’m just that desperate atm

anonymous asked:

I need some prompts about abandonment if you have some, please? 😘

Cool, let’s see what I can dredge up from my brain:

  • She pushed open the door to the empty building. She’d stayed there for as long as she could remember; that was actually a lie, she did remember a time before being on her own. 
  • He didn’t mind it, really he didn’t, it sometimes just got lonely. He had already forgiven his family for asking him to leave. That was his main problem, he forgave too easily. When she came around, however, a new feeling emerged. She made him see how angry he was and that he’d never really forgiven them.

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Kittens are Black, My Hair is Yellow . . . (Bumbleby)

There were times, upon reading a good book, that Blake felt she could lie down in its pages and sleep in them.

Today had been a tad too literal for a girl of her class of metaphor.

“Yang.” The confrontation took place in the library. It was the best room for literary critique, after all. “Would you care to explain why I woke up this morning covered in loose-leaf?”

Yang blinked at her, repeatedly. A bit like standing in front of a strobe light, all things considered. “Oooh. Jig’s up, huh?” She giggled, because disco halls needed music. “How’d you guess it was me?”

“This kind of thing has your handwriting all over it.” Blake presented the evidence. “Literally. The furious strokes and angry ink blots made discerning the text rather difficult, but I managed to catch your curly-q here and there.”

“You read all that?” Admiration. Gratitude. Bordering on awe. Usually people sounded like that when they looked at Yang – Yang didn’t sound like that when she looked at people. And yet.

“‘Reading’ is possibly too strong a term.” Blake had tried, certainly. There was something beneath the blackened depths, she was sure of it – but what else in life was new? “We’ll say I … inspected it all. Whatever it was. What was it, incidentally?”

If they’d been in a stage play, Blake might have described the ensuing silence as Yang missing her cue.

“Poetry.” And then ad-libbing, apparently. “Or, uh … at least what poetry looks like after I get done with it! Heh.”

Slowly-raised eyebrows weren’t what Blake wanted to be known for, but life didn’t seem to be giving her much of a choice, lately. “Poetry.”

Yang said a lot of things with her hands (usually “this wall is in my way and I am going to remove it”) but right now their fiddling spoke mostly of nervousness. A foreign language, to Yang. “My dad told me that if I ever wanted to … uh … confess to somebody, poetry was the way to go. It’s how he won over my mom.” Fiddle, fiddle, fiddle. “But … it turns out that even though I’m really good at punching bad guys and making muffins and origami and loads of other stuff, I’m not super great at wordplay. Except puns, but those aren’t really all that romantic.”

Yang had said a lot. Blake’s brain was still somewhere back around the first sentence. She hadn’t known brains could gawk. “Confess?” She walked into the rest of the words like they were a lamppost. “Romantic?”

“Surprise?” Yang’s grin normally vibrated with excitement. This time, though, it just sort of shook.

Blake didn’t reply. Just looked down.

Oh, Dust.

“Ah, yeah. Poetry. Kind of looks more like abstract art, huh?” Yang kept smiling. It was something so at odds with her tone of voice there just might have been a war at the tip of her tongue. “I dunno. It’s just that you kind of have this rhythm, when you talk. Completely normal sentences sound like they’re supposed to be played at music halls, or acted out on stage, or something. I tried to make what I wrote sound like that, but it kept ending up sounding like … static. Static made out of exactly the wrong words. Whenever that happened, I just crossed those words out and tried again.”

These pages were made of gold. Pure gold, shiny and invaluably precious, but above all else, so, so very heavy. How hadn’t Blake realized sooner?

“I tried everything I could think of to make the right words happen. Sonnets … haikus … even 'roses are red’ style stuff. Heh. Can you imagine? Me sitting around after everyone else is asleep for like, three weeks straight, trying to figure out how the heck quills make words. 'Cause apparently I just didn’t get the process.”

Blood. Sweat. Tears. They’d forgotten to mention the ink.

“So. One mystery solved! Now, as to why I decided to make you a blanket out of my failed attempts at quint-syllabic meter? Well, uh, I realized about half a week ago that I wasn’t really cut out for composition, even if I could look up different types of rhythm and rhyme, and after that I guess I just got frustrated with myself. I kept punching at it, like, maybe if I just tried again tonight, I’d end up breaking through some sort of wall, and when I didn’t … I dunno. I was tired, and it seemed like a good idea at the time, and I was angry with myself, and I just wanted to make sure you saw that I … that I tried.” Yang’s head drooped. Nearly melted, really. “ … I really tried, Blake. I’m sorry.”

Forty-three pages. There were forty-three pages. Blake had counted every single one of them.

They were all suddenly quite fuzzy, for some reason.

“Hey, are you okay?” A sort of strangled choking noise probably wasn’t the answer Yang was looking for. “Oh, shoot, you’re crying. Blake, I-I just, wow, okay, I’m-I’m, Blake, I didn’t – oh man, I screwed everything up again, it wasn’t supposed to happen like –”

She silenced her with lips upon her own.

“Oh, Yang.” Blake swallowed her sob with a smile. “These are the most beautiful words I’ve ever read.”

Team Winchester: Part IV

Prompt: Reader is Sam and Dean’s sister (maybe Sam’s twin or in between Sam and Dean), and the fic is just like a bunch of little snapshots/moments throughout their childhoods and lives, growing up together and having sibling moments.

Word count: 2,205

Warnings: None.

Author’s Note: I may or may not be a little evil.
Again, thank you – you guys are awesome and you’re the best supporters anyone could ask for. Here’s part 4, read it and let me know what should happen next and if you want more parts ;) As always, I’ll credit you if I use your ideas/you’re off anon (if you’re on anon and I use your idea please feel free to send in whatever request you want, fic or not, and I’ll do it! :D)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

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anonymous asked:

Can you do a modern AU where Miller and Bellamy both think Jasper is dating Monty/Clarke (respectively) Then when they talk about it they argue because they both think Jasper is dating their crush but they see they were mad at Jasper for no reason?<3

So, I ended up switching Jasper for Raven, mostly because I see the Clarke/Raven chemistry more than the Clarke/Jasper. I hope you still enjoy, anon! I’m always down for Miller and Bellamy failing at life.


If Nathan Miller had his way, he would never get another crush in his life.

He doesn’t, broadly speaking, have anything against romance. He likes being in relationships. He enjoys intimacy and closeness, likes cuddling and sex and having someone to think of as his. If he could just always have a boyfriend, he’d be pretty happy.

It’s the feelings that get him. If there’s one thing Nate hates, it’s the long and painful process of meeting someone, and then falling for them, and then having to figure out if they’re into guys generally, or him specifically, and if that’s enough to make them both want to attempt to be in a relationship.

“Yeah,” says Bellamy. “Meeting other people is the worst.”

He makes it sound like sarcasm, but Nate knows Bellamy hates it as much as he does. “Because you haven’t been pining away for a girl who’s taken for months,” he shoots back.

“I’ve only been pining away for a girl who’s taken for like a week,” says Bellamy. “Before that I was pining for a girl I didn’t know had a girlfriend. Totally different.”

“My bad.”

Bellamy sighs, leans back and closes his eyes. “So, tell me about the crush. You want to do my hair while you do it? It’s getting pretty shaggy. I bet you could braid it.”

“Just say you want to gossip,” Nate says. “I’m not telling you shit unless you admit you care about my feelings.”

“So much. Is he cute? Do you have pictures?”

“No, because I’m not a fucking creep.” He sighs. “He’s the new IT guy at work. He’s really fucking cute. And smart too. I’m not bad with computers and he can run rings around me. I bet he runs Linux.”

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