(Ciel Phantomhive x Reader)
(Author’s note: This is part two of my story “The Queen” as requested by “Gardener7eve”. I hope you enjoy it !)
You sat staring into your bowl of soup with a strange expression on your face. Your brows were furrowed as if you were thinking hard on something and your hands were twisting a napkin as if you were trying to choke it. You jumped as you saw something white pass by and felt someone peck you on the cheek.
“Good morning, ______,” Ciel muttered. He wasn’t really a morning person but he usually didn’t take out his grumpiness on you. Ever since the proposal you had started living in Phantomhive manor and quite frankly, it was a bit odd. You weren’t used to such a large home or having any servants for that matter. All of the workers were ordered to obey you seeing as you would be Ciel’s wife in the near future and it was sort of awkward. You forced an unnatural lo
Your butler had just entered your office where you had been for hours working diligently on paperwork for your recently deceased parents. Usually you wouldn’t have been bothered with silly paperwork but now that your parents had killed themselves recently leaving you one of England’s wealthiest orphans. However, you still had your trusty butler you were contracted to.
“Lady (L/N),” he proudly said. “You have a letter,” He explained carefully. He approached you slowly carrying a silver platter you had once had high hopes that it had food under the cover. Instead he pulled the cover off and held out the platter with a small envelope leaving you still very hungry and slightly angered.
Still you look at your butler overtop of the glasses that framed your face. “From whom,” You asked. He looks back at you and smirks, deviously. Remaining silent he placed the platter over top of your paperwork. You look at him staring direc
did you hear me?
You are not alone!
It is not your fault,
It isn't, hey, DID YOU HEAR ME?
Are you listening?
There is hope!
There is love,
Happiness is a choice
but you have to try to overcome the pain first,
you have to decide that whoever hurt you is not worth your anger
That you WILL NOT let them control your life or emotions
That you are stronger than they are
BECAUSE YOU ARE A BETTER PERSON
Because you are loved
Because you would never hurt someone the way you have been hurt
You are hope,
It's there, I can see it in you.
I can feel it in your words and yes,
even in your pain.
I know that you can do it
It isn't easy, but you are not alone,
The hurt rise up to protect each other,
from distances unmeasured and with power unseen,
we are the hurt, the victims
once hopeless, now an army,
a support to help people like us
to break through the barriers that numb us,
that make us hurt us when we don't deserve it,
that convince us that there is nothing better,
but there is
You know you're a Latin student when:
1. You can decline your own name.
2. The name Quintus excites you.
3. You know what all of the parts of Roman names stand for, including a great majority of first names.
4. If the phrase "Orange book, Stage 7"(when used in conjunction with a vocab word) causes a sinking feeling in your stomach.
5. You seem the word quam and panic.
6. If your heroes are Nero and Caligula and you can name their ancestors back at least 3 generations.
7. You skip other classes to learn Latin vocab.
8. You are scared of the present subjunctive.
9. You get told off in English for using "et" instead of "and".
10. You froth at the mouth if someone incorrectly uses an apostrophe and condescend those people who do.
11. You have innate pronunciation (though
Instead, she just stared at the man on the screen in front of her, the man with his long, drooping skin, tired eyes, haggard face and balding head. He was hardly the admiral we had once known. She said "I don't have any desire to do it," and then quickly, "but I'll follow my orders, if you give them to me."
There was fright in her eyes. She gripped the edges of the captain's chair and bit her cheek, fighting off inevitable tears. But not here. She couldn't cry now. People relied on her to be strong. What people she wasn’t sure, but someone, somewhere, surely. She had to believe that.
"Those are your orders," the man said, sinking heavily into his chair. "I trust you'll carry them out."
She snapped off communications with ill-hid despair. Her blonde hair, thin and almost colorless, hung around her face like a fallen halo, fading with every sin. Her lips were tight, her cheeks drawn, and her eyes stared out of bru
I'll pose the opposite to you and ask you this:
"Why is it that you find life to be worth living?"
Is it so interesting to go through each day feeling anxious?
To the point that you feel nauseated enough to collapse.
Is it so joyous to spend each night staring at a blank ceiling,
Hearing the clock tick on toward morning,
And yet you lie awake.
Tired, but awake, emotionless, but awake...
Do you truly get up each day, facing it with optimism.
Or do you look at the news and the state of the world,
And genuinely fear for your safety?
Now, if it were me that you had asked my dear,
I'd tell you quite honestly: That I'd rather be dead.
At least I would not have to hear the white lie inside my head.
That tomorrow will bring me a 'better' day...
But of course, you are welcome to believe that.
I'm sorry for breaking your dreams...
I'm sorry for causing you pain...
I'm sorry for being the reason of your tears...
I'm sorry that my words
Are not what you want to hear...
I'm sorry that my face
Is not what you want to see...
I'm sorry for not being able to express myself
And hiding in my shell...
I'm sorry for not being perfect
And ruining all that I touch...
I'm sorry for not being what you want me to be...
I'm sorry for being me...
Certainly I was confused—I had just gotten my head around contingency (for you adults here): that something
As the months and years progressed, these SJWs have made headlines, caused controversies, and stirred pots. They gained followers, and they gained detractors. They have ferociously
Walking into his house, Gilbert opened the door only to be greeted with packed luggage littering the foyer. "Matt? are you home?" he suddenly heard thumping as Matthew walked down stairs carrying more baggage.
"I'm leaving, Gil."
Feeling his heart break a little, Gilbert felt the air tense up.
"I can't take this anymore. Your constant drinking, going out late every night, worrying me to death. I need out."
Finally breaking down, Gilbert fell to his knees. "But I can change! Please don't leave me!"
And, looking away to the side, Matthew said nothing but gathered his belongings and stepped outside the door, "I'm sorry good-bye, Gilbert."
The door shut quietly behind him, and Gilbert found himself in the corner of the room, curled up, and crying hard into his knees.
A good several hours passed by,
Hours turned to days,
Days turned into months,
3 months to be exact.
And during these months, Gilbert had not accepted the fact that Matthew had left. He d
Two things in this world are infinite: the universe and human stupidity. But Im not so sure about the first one. Albert Einstein
Lifes not worth living if you dont have something worth dying for.
A ship in a harbor is safe, but thats not what a ship is built for.
Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed on and digested.
It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.
If you think you can, you can. And if you think you can't, you're right.
Faith is not belief. Belief is passive. Faith is active.
I have discovered that all human evil comes from this: man's being unable to sit still in a room. (Uh oh, my brother is in trouble )
The heart has its reasons which reason knows not of.