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blackbutlerfandomnerddomain · 5 months ago

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Stardust and Tearduct AU is officially in the works!

Plot: When Dib was a toddler and Gaz was an infant, Prof. Membrane takes them to a meteor shower and finds a crashed ship. Inside the ship is Miyuki with unconscious Red and Purple and seemingly dead Smeet Zim. He helps her out, brings Zim back to life via electricity, removes both her and Red's and Purple's PAKs to give them a fresh start. Miyuki and Membrane get married to protect them both sides, and they raise Red (now called Flynn but also Red by his friends and family) and Purple (now called Mauve) and Zim as human children with no memories of before the crash after removing their PAKs. Miyuki disappears after 5 years (Dib and Zim: 7, Gaz: 5, Flynn and Mauve: 9 years old) of this special life and Prof. Membrane tells everyone she's in some hospital to try and help her mentally and physically but in truth he has no idea where she is.

I've been working on it for a while, made a playlist, a few boards of character aesthetics!

Playlists:

Mystery Kids will be tied in this in many ways! I've always loved that little crossover fandom

Fandoms added in the crossover:

Invader Zim

Gravity Falls

Danny Phantom

Coraline

Paranorman

Over The Garden Wall

The Powerpuff Girls

W.I.T.C.H.

Totally Spies

Star VS The Forces Of Evil

Camp Camp

The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy

I even made a map layout for the AU of the gang for when the summer ends and they go back to their lives!

Magenta Red - The City also named "Whiteham" - Invader Zim

Black/Dark Brown - Townsville from The PowerPuff Girls

Dark Blue - Gravity Falls - Gravity Falls

Light Green - Amity Park - Danny Phantom

Light Blue - Wirt's and Greg's Hometown also named "Carnwood" - Over The Garden Wall

Dark Green - Blithe Hollow - Paranorman

Black - Ashland, Oregon - Coraline

Pinky Purple - Los Angeles - Star vs the Forces of Evil

Light Pink-Purple - Heatherfield - W.I.T.C.H.

Purple - Beverly Hills - Totally Spies

Red - Sleepy Peak - Camp Camp

Connections:

Zim and Norman are online friends who never physically met due to Zim's insecurities about his "skin condition", live at the Membrane house and just started summer vacation nearing his sophomore year with Dib while Flynn (Red) and Mauve (Purple) will be Senior's by the end of the summer

Mauve is a influencer in his free time and online B.F.Fs with a girl named Clover Grace who seems to be living the life he wants, beautiful, popular, and travels the world

Coraline and Norman are cousins and decided to do a joint family vacation where both Coraline and Norman brough one friend to come visit, Norman's family comes in later though since it was easier for the Jones to arrive to Gravity Falls than the Babcocks

Danny is on a special summer trip to Gravity Falls with his class for their junior to senior year and his family decided to come with

Greg doesn't remember much about the Garden Wall but Wirt remembers it very clearly and is part of a paranormal forum to hopefully find someone who can answer all the unanswered questions while dealing with the trauma of it all. They visit Gravity Falls a bit later but is one of Dib's favorite online friends from the forums.

Powerpuff Girls is only mentioned as of right now in the drafts but will be more focused later on when the gang try to figure out what Chemical X is

SVTFOE is added and technically takes place sometime after season 2-3 but me and my friend kind of didn't like the final two seasons and did a serious rewrite with some details still there but we fixed a lot of the romances so be ready lol But they come in later as they leave Gravity Falls

W.I.T.C.H. happens about a year after the end of season two and are mostly online faces and names kind of like Clover but like the Totally Spies we will see them later and I even have a lil script ready for reactions of them using their powers!

This AU will be pretty serious and angsty since I'm pretty sure a majority of the cast will be very traumatized within their canon stories, but it'll also cover the feeling of identity and discovery with Zim, Flynn, and Mauve, varies forms of grief and depression, suicide attempts and mentions of suicide, and one scene that legit made me cry between Zim and Norman as they both talk about their childhoods, Coraline having sever Claustrophobia, etc.

Membrane will be a great dad in this AU as he should be, most positive about paranormal but plays the acts of a nonbeliever around his family since he swore to Miyuki to not tell them their origins without her present, which is harder when they seem to catch on and no one knows where she is.

I'm still debating dating but I will say the main "canon" within this AU will be building up Coraline and Wybie and Star, Marco, and Tom's whole romance thing is still canon with Star and Tom being exs and some feels happening. The W.I.T.C.H. girls have their relationships from season two but will be altered or changed since some are not that fleshed out and in the comics they kind of ruined some. In this AU Sam and Danny dated but didn't last much but they could get back together. I have seen SO MANY SHIPS related to crossovers, especially Mystery Kids, and honestly there's a lot of fair arguments of a lot of them! I've seen Dibper, Parapines, Pinescones, Gazble, Pasiciper (or whatever Dipper and Pasifica ship is called), etc. etc. If yall have possible ideas that aren't proshipping, I'd like to hear! Crack-shipping is also welcome as long as you give me some points of why!!

We have a nice little roster of villains since this is a AU which means other universes with other stories, characters, and villains! Including one of my favorite mini fandoms like Mystery Kids called "The Bad End Friends", a AU world of crossovers of the main characters who becomes villains/the villains won their universes. We'll have Invader Zib, Bipper, Beast Wirt, Ghost Coraline, canon Invader Zim, Dark Danny, and so much more!

Again, this AU is still being build/made as I'm going through. Scripts of certain scenes are already written and I'm even currently drawing out other minor villains of the series like bullies or even bad exs, thoughts and ideas are welcomed!

Profiles:

Mostly the Membrane family for now

Thanks @radioactivesoda-gw2 who have this template I used with me adding Gender and birthday cause ye!

Zim:

Full Name: Zimothy Membrane

Pronunciation: Zim-On-Tee

Nickname(s): Zim (everyone), Green-Bean (Mauve), Shortcake (Flynn), Weirdo (Herk Brown)

Preferred Name: Zim

Age: 15

Birthday: August 20th

Sexuality: Biromantic - Demisexual 🩷💜💙 - 🖤🤍💜🩶

Gender: Genderqueer 💜🤍💚

Pronouns: he/they

Height: 5'' ft at most

Weight/Build: Thin and petite

Scars/Birthmarks/Distinguishing Markings: A marking on his spin's center, green skin, his ruby eyes when he doesn't have his contacts, his antennas under his hair, freckles on his nose and cheeks

🗣️ Personality & Morals ⚖️

Are they...(bold which term applies to the character):

introvert / extrovert / ambivert risk-taker / cautious organized / disorganized close-minded / open-minded calm / anxious / restless disagreeable / agreeable / in-between patient / impatient outspoken / reserved leader / follower / flexible empathetic / un-empathetic optimistic / pessimistic / realistic traditional / modern / in-between hard-working / lazy

Moral alignment (chaotic good, lawful neutral, etc): Chaotic-Good

Guilty Pleasure(s): He's a bit of a prankster and petty as Hell

👍 Strengths & Weaknesses 👎

Strengths/Skills (Mental/Physical): A pretty fast runner and jump higher than most, put him in a room with less gravity he'll be very fast like Spider-Man, flexible due to years in dance and genes

Weaknesses (Mental/Physical): Anger Issues when it comes to his family or friends, can get physical if pushed hard enough

Biggest Advantage: His jumping ability

Biggest Vulnerability: His emotional stability

Mental Ailments: More emotional

Physical Ailments: Pretty normal

Addictions/Bad Habits: He has really bad self esteem that he bottles up cause he doesn't want to drag anyone down, one of the habits he has when his mind gets dark is either pulling on his antennas when he thinks or nibbling on his fingers and sometimes wrists

Phobias: Coulrophobia (fear of clowns) and phasmophobia (fear of ghosts)

🏠 Lifestyle 🏠

Birthplace: Irken Hatching Chamber 12

Current Residence: Whiteham, WA, USA

Education: Up to freshman-sophomore year currently

Religion: Agnostic

Philosophy/Outlook on Life: He's pretty open with how to view life, but he always puts a happy face when he feels it's crappy

Job: N/A

Hobbies: Dance, art, paranormal activities with Dib, science lab

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Relationships 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦

Status (Single/Dating…/Married to…): Single

Family: Professor Manuel Membrane (adopted father) Miyuki Nakamura ("mother") Flynn Membrane (brother) Mauve Membrane (sibling) Dib Membrane (brother) Gaz Membrane (sister)

Friends: His siblings Keef Smith Norman Babcock (online and has not yet met) Neil Downe Dipper Pines Mabel Pines Wirt McCaughin Gregory McCaughin Danny Fenton Sam Manson Star Butterfly Tom Lucitor (he up to Danny are much later) Max Wood (though they met much later alongside the rest of the Camp Camp cast) Neil "Space Kid" Armstrong JR. Harrison Vernon Nerris Arneson Preston Goodplay

Enemies: Herk Brown (bully) Juls Adams (bully)

Other notable relationships (If any): N/A

📚 Backstory 📚

Childhood: Was born as any other Irken, given a PAK imminently after being hatched and sent to do work, however The Almighty Tallests and the Control Brains noticed right away he's defective and Tallest Spork decides to kill him by having the Control Brains fry his PAK and forcibly removed. Miyuki escapes with the unconscious Zim, taking the Smeet Red and Purple, and escapes to the galaxy. They arrive on Earth and since then the three been raised by Miyuki and Professor Membrane on Earth

Adolescence: Developed his first crush on a male via a handsome shop owner

Young Adulthood: N/A

Adulthood: N/A

Present Day: Zim is a teen living in his family home slowly discovering something

Theme Song(s):

Flynn:

Full Name: Flynn Membrane

Pronunciation: Fl-IN

Nickname(s): Flynn (Mauve and Zim), Red (his family and closest friends), Beanstalk (classmates and coach)

Preferred Name: Flynn or Red

Age: 17

Birthday: March 30th

Sexuality: Demisexual 🖤🤍💜🩶

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Height: 6''ft

Weight/Build: Tall and lanky with some muscle mass of his arms and stomach

Scars/Birthmarks/Distinguishing Markings: Two bun like small marking on his spin's center, green skin, his red eyes when he doesn't have his contacts, his antennas under his wig, his red streak in his hair

🗣️ Personality & Morals ⚖️

Are they...(bold which term applies to the character):

Moral alignment (chaotic good, lawful neutral, etc): Chaotic Lawful

Guilty Pleasure(s): He spends way to much of his night scrolling through social media and gossiping, he also eats way more junk food than he lets on

👍 Strengths & Weaknesses 👎

Strengths/Skills (Mental/Physical): He's a natural leader, fast runner, and fast reflexes which all is helpful with his being a basketball player in school

Weaknesses (Mental/Physical): He has pretty bad depression and compare himself a lot to others

Biggest Advantage: His ability to pick things up easier

Biggest Vulnerability: Not being good enough and will get angry if you mention it

Mental Ailments: A little uneven, typical moody teenager who has a bit of a ego

Physical Ailments: Perfectly Even

Addictions/Bad Habits: Comparing himself to others a lot, picking up a new trend and dropping it just to keep up

Phobias: Atelophobia (fear of making mistakes/not being good enough)

🏠 Lifestyle 🏠

Birthplace: Irken Hatching Station 12

Current Residence: Whiteham, WA

Education: Started Senior Year

Religion: N/A

Philosophy/Outlook on Life: N/A

Job: A summer job at a mall sport store (recently quite after the boss talked shit about his brothers)

Hobbies: Basketball, cooking, writing, chess, playing piano

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Relationships 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦

Status (Single/Dating…/Married to…): Single

Family: Professor Manuel Membrane (adopted father) Miyuki Nakamura ("mother") Mauve Membrane (twin, thank this cute post by @l-ii-zzfor this idea!) Zim Membrane (brother) Dib Membrane (brother) Gaz Membrane (sister)

Friends: His family Mauve (best friend) Danny Fenton Coraline Jones Wendy Corduroy Wirt McCaughin His Basketball Teammates

Enemies: Literally anyone who's rude to his family regardless if they forgive the person later

Other notable relationships (If any): He has a ex girlfriend who attends one of the rival high school who broke up with him after he was "immature" in the relationship cause she didn't get he's demisexual

📚 Backstory 📚

Childhood: Was born as any other Irken, given a PAK imminently after being hatched and sent to do work, however The Almighty Miyuki took them after Zim was caught as a defective and escaped. They arrive on Earth and since then the three been raised by Miyuki and Professor Membrane on Earth with no memories of Irk. His actual childhood was very athletic and energetic and happy

Adolescence: He got really into basketball at 10 and joined a team after months of begging

Young Adulthood: N/A

Adulthood: N/A

Present Day: Currently he's a popular guy in his high school who's very close and protective of his siblings but feels something's... off about some dreams he has

Theme Song(s):

Mauve:

Full Name: Mauve Membrane

Pronunciation: MM-AH-v

Nickname(s): Ma, Ve-Ve, Purple, Pur (family and followers), Twink, Emo (haters)

Preferred Name: Mauve

Age: 17

Birthday: March 30th

Sexuality: Bisexual 🩷💜💙

Gender: Nonbinary 💛🤍💜🖤

Pronouns: They/Them

Height: 6''ft

Weight/Build: Tall and skinny with some baby fat on their body

Scars/Birthmarks/Distinguishing Markings: Two bun like small marking on their spin's center, green skin, their purple eyes when they doesn't have their contacts, their antennas under their hair

🗣️ Personality & Morals ⚖️

Are they...(bold which term applies to the character):

Moral alignment (chaotic good, lawful neutral, etc): Chaotic Neutral

Guilty Pleasure(s): They eats way too much junk food, addicted to social media

👍 Strengths & Weaknesses 👎

Strengths/Skills (Mental/Physical): They're pretty flexible thanks to years of dance and yoga, a good actor too who can easily get themself and others out of trouble

Weaknesses (Mental/Physical): They have ADHD and can get distracted with chores

Biggest Advantage: Pretty smart

Biggest Vulnerability: Pretty sensitive and emotional

Mental Ailments: More emotional than even

Physical Ailments: Pretty even, just wayward

Addictions/Bad Habits: Eat way too much junk food

Phobias: Arachnophobia (fear of spiders), and anthropophobia (fear of rejection)

🏠 Lifestyle 🏠

Birthplace: Irken Hatching Center 12

Current Residence: Whiteham, WA

Education: Currently Senior in Highschool

Religion: Doesn't think about religion

Philosophy/Outlook on Life: N/A

Job: N/A

Hobbies: Dance, guitar, yoga

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Relationships 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦

Status (Single/Dating…/Married to…): Recently Single

Family: Professor Manuel Membrane (adopted father) Miyuki Nakamura ("mother") Flynn Membrane (twin) Zim Membrane (brother) Dib Membrane (brother) Gaz Membrane (sister)

Friends: His family Flynn (best friend) The cheer team Coraline Jones Sam Manson Danny Fenton Clover Grace (online BFF who swap influencer tastes) Irma Lair (online bestie) Marco Diaz Star Butterfly

Enemies: Duchess Mountcore (influencer who always rivals with them)

Other notable relationships (If any): They had a serious relationship with a guy named Josh Thompson since 8th grade but by the summer leading their Junior Year since Josh decided to date Duchess. Mysteriously his house and Duchess' house got smeared to paint three days after the break-up the same day Zim and Flynn did the laundry for the week and when Flynn got a haircut

📚 Backstory 📚

Adolescence: Started dance at 11 and joined the high school cheer team

Young Adulthood: N/A

Adulthood: N/A

Present Day: Influencer and high school student who's main goal is to make a name for themself, even when new discovers happen

Theme Song(s):

Dib:

Full Name: Dibromide Mateo Membrane

Pronunciation: N/A

Nickname(s): Dib-Stink (Zim), Fluffy (Zim), Dibstick (Flynn and Mauve), Huge Head (literally Zim and everyone), Weirdo, Loser, Goth, Freak (classmates), Agent Mothman (the paranormal forum society)

Preferred Name: Dib

Birthday: February 14th (this is a headcanon me and my friend love cause that adds another flavor of sadness if the episode Tak shows up in if it was Dib's birthday and no one cared)

Age: 15

Sexuality: Pansexual 🩷💛💙

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Height: 5'7

Weight/Build: Pretty thin and lanky, long and tall, like a noodle explained Zim or a skeleton with a huge head as Zim also calls it

Scars/Birthmarks/Distinguishing Markings: His one hair spike that is a lot like his father's, his black trench coat

🗣️ Personality & Morals ⚖️

Are they...(bold which term applies to the character):

Moral alignment (chaotic good, lawful neutral, etc): Neutral Good

Guilty Pleasure(s): Reading way too much true crime or staying up looking up paranormal things instead of sleeping or studying, chewing his pens and pencils

👍 Strengths & Weaknesses 👎

Strengths/Skills (Mental/Physical): Very smart

Weaknesses (Mental/Physical): Has slight OCD and anxiety, has asthma which was bad when he was a kid but is better now

Biggest Advantage: His quick thinking and ways to build things

Biggest Vulnerability: When his anxiety gets the best of him, especially if he thinks he holds no value against others

Mental Ailments: A bit unhealthy

Physical Ailments: Unhealthy slightly but okay

Addictions/Bad Habits: Chewing his pens, forgetting to sleep or eat if he's too focus, being too protective or worrying

Phobias: Autophobia (fear of being alone/abandoned), atychiphobia (fear of failure), emetophobia (fear of vomiting or hearing someone vomit)

🏠 Lifestyle 🏠

Birthplace: Whiteham, WA

Current Residence: Whiteham, WA

Education: Sophomore in Highschool

Religion: N/A

Philosophy/Outlook on Life: Open for ideas of life and religion

Job: Worked in a bookstore for a summer previous, has a part-time summer job at the Mystery Shack

Hobbies: Writing, drawing, paranormal hunting/research

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Relationships 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦

Status (Single/Dating…/Married to…): Single

Family: Professor Manuel Membrane (father) Miyuki Nakamura ("mother") Flynn Membrane (brother) Mauve Membrane (sibling) Zim Membrane (brother) Gaz Membrane (sister)

Friends: His siblings Gretchen Dails Keef Smith Norman Babcock Neil Downe Dipper Pines Mabel Pines Wirt McCaughin Danny Fenton Sam Manson Tucker Foley Wybie Lovat Marco Diaz Max Wood Neil Davis

Enemies: The kids in his school cause they always pick on him and his family

Other notable relationships (If any): Had a mutual crush on Gretchen and even dating in middle school but both decided they weren't ready for romance

📚 Backstory 📚

Childhood: Was born in the Membrane family and raised rather happy, understanding the fact his three siblings are different than others. He grew closer to his brother Zim to the point they shared their bedroom for many years. He has always been into the paranormal after his mother introduced him to the idea of space and all it's wonders

Adolescence: He spends his time enjoying the paranormal and trying to have a normal life

Young Adulthood: N/A

Adulthood: N/A

Present Day: N/A

Theme Song(s):

Gaz:

Full Name: Gazlene Membrane

Pronunciation: N/A

Nickname(s): Gaz (eveyone), Princess, Pumpkin, Kitten (Prof. Membrane)

Preferred Name: Gaz

Birthday: June 21st

Age: 14

Sexuality: AroAce 🧡💛🤍💙💜

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Height: 5''

Weight/Build: Short and chubby, cute and cuddly as Zim calls her

Scars/Birthmarks/Distinguishing Markings: She has three moles on her face, one near the left side of her scalp, one under her right eye, and one on the left side of her chin

🗣️ Personality & Morals ⚖️

Are they...(bold which term applies to the character):

Moral alignment (chaotic good, lawful neutral, etc): Chaotic Good

Guilty Pleasure(s): Gaming, drawing

👍 Strengths & Weaknesses 👎

Strengths/Skills (Mental/Physical): Very smart

Weaknesses (Mental/Physical): Has autism and depression

Biggest Advantage: Her quick thinking and knowledge of gaming and positions in fighting

Biggest Vulnerability: Her first instinct is verbal meanness and she's very stubborn

Mental Ailments: N/A

Physical Ailments: N/A

Addictions/Bad Habits: Gaming, junk food

Phobias: Acrophobia (fear of heights)

🏠 Lifestyle 🏠

Birthplace: Whiteham, WA

Current Residence: Whiteham, WA

Education: Freshman in Highschool

Religion: N/A

Philosophy/Outlook on Life: Open for ideas of life and religion

Job: Worked in a bookstore for a summer previous, has a part-time summer job at the Mystery Shack

Hobbies: Writing, drawing, paranormal hunting/research

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Relationships 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦

Status (Single/Dating…/Married to…): Single

Family: Professor Manuel Membrane (adopted father) Miyuki Nakamura ("mother") Flynn Membrane (brother) Mauve Membrane (sibling) Zim Membrane (brother) Dib Membrane (brother)

Friends: Her siblings Norman Babcock Neil Downe Mabel Pines Wirt McCaughin Sam Manson Coraline Jones Wybie Lovat Gideon Gleeful Nikki Hart Ered Miller

Enemies: Literally anyone who messes with her family

Other notable relationships (If any): N/A

📚 Backstory 📚

Childhood: Raised youngest within the family and only girl and was kind of spoiled. Loved her mother to bits and took it the hardest when she disappeared

Adolescence: N/A

Young Adulthood: N/A

Adulthood: N/A

Present Day: She's gonna start high school after the summer and have hopes to be a powerful CEO or a top gamer whatever comes first

Theme Song(s):

Full Name: Professor Manuel Membrane

Pronunciation: Man-well

Nickname(s): Dad (his kids), Professor Membrane (everyone)

Preferred Name: N/A

Birthday: March 6th

Age: 40

Sexuality: Demiromantic 🖤🤍💚🩶 Asexual 🖤🩶🤍💜

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Height: 6''8

Weight/Build: Tall and muscular

Scars/Birthmarks/Distinguishing Markings: He has some machine parts in his arms after a accident

🗣️ Personality & Morals ⚖️

Are they...(bold which term applies to the character):

Moral alignment (chaotic good, lawful neutral, etc): Natural Good

Guilty Pleasure(s): Difficult talking to people

👍 Strengths & Weaknesses 👎

Strengths/Skills (Mental/Physical): Very smart

Weaknesses (Mental/Physical): Has autism and depression and anxiety

Biggest Advantage: His smart brain, fast thinking and invention making

Biggest Vulnerability: He's too protective of his kids

Mental Ailments: N/A

Physical Ailments: N/A

Addictions/Bad Habits: He's too protective of his kids often, has a bad history of triple checking if they're asleep since they were babies and sometimes do it if something happens to them

Phobias: Traumatophobia (excessive or disabling fear of war or physical injury usually resulting from experiences in combat)

🏠 Lifestyle 🏠

Birthplace: Clifton, AZ

Current Residence: Whiteham, WA

Education: University Degree

Religion: Atheist

Philosophy/Outlook on Life: Science

Job: Owns his own lab and works as an inventor and researcher, wrote a few books

Hobbies: Research, lab tests, puzzles,

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Relationships 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦

Status (Single/Dating…/Married to…): Married now Single

Family: Miyuki Nakamura (wife) Flynn Membrane (son) Mauve Membrane (child) Zim Membrane (child) Dib Membrane (son) Gaz Membrane (daughter)

Friends: His children Stanford Pines Professor Drake Utonium Mr. McCoughin Miyuki David Wood (he loves the energy)

Enemies: Literally anyone who messes with his family, Tallest Spork and the Irken Empire

Other notable relationships (If any): N/A

📚 Backstory 📚

Childhood: He had a pretty decent childhood, raised by his family of five and two dogs and lived on a ranch his brave scientist parents owned. Since birth he had shown how smart he is and enjoyed discovering new things. Most kids were jealous he passed classes and would exclude him in things which never bothered him, he was perfectly fine working by himself

Adolescence: His mother died via gas poisoning after years working in the lab, causing a huge rift against him and his dad that sadly never been fixed no matter what. He graduated highest of the grades and moved to Townsville to attend collage via a science scholarship

Young Adulthood: He's still awkward as usual but gotten along well with the other students in the science scholarship like Drake Utonium, plus with the fact he doesn't go home during holidays he spends more time studying and creating his first invention and research. He graduated a year earlier than planned and began his business after moving to Whiteham, buying a closed down factory as his new lab. He slowly started to feel lonely after his business picked up and upon remember his ideas of cloning the ranch animals and created Dib with similar methods of cloning with some changes of course. Dib's birth was a success and so he decided to make a sibling since he had a fun time being with his siblings growing up. When Gaz was born and Dib was turning one years old, he took them to a hill to watch the meteor shower, there he finds a huge hunk of junk and metal where a mysterious woman was clinging to three smaller forms as she barely stays awake. He takes them all back home and patches her up, learns her name is Miyuki and the Smeets she had were Red and Purple who were destined to be the next Tallests after she perish and Zim who she tells was defected at birth and sentenced to death. He removes Red and Purple's PAKs carefully (Zim didn't have his when found) and brought them back to life. He and Miyuki got close after all this and she stayed on Earth for him, raisin the Smeets as human children alongside Dib and Gaz. He invented a special wig that was applied to the Smeets that will feel, move, wash, and grow like normal hair once applied but their antennas do appear, which he and Miyuki instructed to always keep them hidden unless indoors and with them. He and Miyuki vowed to tell the kids the truth together, but then not long after the vow she disappeared. He searched for her but couldn't find her, so he decided to raise all five of them by himself as best as he can

Adulthood/Present Day: He's raising five children all by himself since the disappearance of his wife Miyuki as he also works hard as a world known scientists and researcher

Theme Song(s):

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hislxmb · 5 years ago

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tag drop !!

#x. The one who couldn't walk away | Irene #x. When the world seems grim & dark | Aesthetic #x. When bombs fall like autmn leaves | musings #x. From worry & madness lead me to the bliss | Faith Seed #x. A country man of promise but you can't trust a liar | John Seed #x. Will the power hungry lives be spared | Jacob Seed #x. Every flake that fell upon him felt like a demons kiss | Joseph Seed #x. Poetic ramblings of a red neck | Sharky Boshaw #x. Where's the mashed potatos man? I'mma stick my dick in it | Hurk Jr.#x. They made me strong & now they are the weak ones | Staci Pratt #x. He was our sacrifice & in the end our demise | Eli Palmer #more to come

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ineloqueent · 4 years ago

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an ode to impossibility

Brian May x Fem!Reader | 1979

click here for a fic playlist (yes, i made a playlist and an aesthetic too...)

synopsis: in which Freddie decides that Queen should spend an actual night at the opera, and Brian decides he’s fallen for Odette.

warnings: swearing, drinking, complete angst fest from dusk til dawn and dusk again, implied smut

word count: 8.1k

a/n: for jess (@brianmays-hair)— happy birthday!! i hope you have a wonderful day. you’re so so lovely, your writing is just rivetingly gorgeous, and you are nothing short of absolutely inspiring. anyway, i believe you once mentioned something about brian and a ballerina…

⭒

Barcelona, 19th of February, 1979

Though it was Monday night, it would seem that the entirety of Barcelona, dressed to the nines, had been packed into the Gran Teatre de Liceu.

“Freddie,” Roger said as he sat down beside John, “I could’ve sworn you said we were going to the opera, not the ballet.”

“This is the opera, darling,” Freddie told Roger’s skeptical expression. “The opera house. We are seeing a ballet. Know the difference.”

Roger looked vaguely disappointed. “So no screaming vikings, then?”

Freddie rolled his eyes.

“So long as it perks up misery guts over there,” John jerked a thumb in Brian’s direction, “I’m okay with anything.”

Brian stammered in protest, but he was ignored as Freddie sighed, “Thank you, Deacy.”

“Even if it is a little disappointing about the lack of vikings.”

“Alright,” said Freddie, “both of you can shut up. I’ll be solely talking to Brian for the remainder of the night, thank you.”

Deacy snorted, and Roger muttered, ��Good luck.”

Freddie turned to Brian, “What is it that’s got you in such a sulk, anyway?”

“I’m not in a sulk,” said Brian, folding his arms over his chest.

“You’re looking quite the grumpy sod, though, aren’t you?”

Brian shifted his legs in discomfort, only to knock his knee on the seat in front of him, hard. He winced, rubbing his injury. “I’m not, it’s just, they’ve not really made these chairs accommodating for tall people.”

“Poor you,” said Roger tonelessly. Brian fought the urge to snap at him.

“Maybe if you were taller, you wouldn’t be mistaken for a girl all the time,” he mumbled.

“Brian,” chided Freddie. “That’s low, even for you.”

Roger squinted at Brian from the other end of the row. “But then I wouldn’t be comfortable in these chairs.”

“Shush, all of you,” Deacy waved his hand. “Show’s starting.”

Sure enough, the house lights were being dimmed, and a hum of sound led by violins rose from the orchestra pit.

Brian sighed heavily, and Freddie patted his arm. “You’ll be alright, darling,” he said.

But Brian wasn’t so sure.

Nothing in his head had made sense lately. Or maybe what scared him was that it was only inside his head that the world made sense.

Everything around him felt like madness, felt like it was falling apart as rapidly as it’d come together. The world seemed to know who he was, but Brian was entirely in the dark.

To the world, he was the gentle-smiling, brainiac guitarist for perhaps one of the most popular bands on the music scene. But Brian often found it difficult to smile. And he hardly felt clever when he couldn’t even understand his own inner workings.

The world spun, and his head spun with it.

The dancers spun onstage.

He hadn’t even noticed the rise of the curtain. But there they were.

Brian leaned his chin into his palm, watching passively. He’d never been much for either ballet or opera, preferring plays, in which the characters made their intentions clear by speaking them and were generally easier to keep up with. Still, he could admit that the dedication and skill required of ballet dancers was immense, and impressive in its execution.

He hadn’t, however, been paying attention along the way, and thus had now absolutely no idea as to what show he was watching. It wasn’t until the second scene that it dawned on him.

And then, the music was unmistakable. Tchaikovsky.

This was Swan Lake.

Brian sat up a little; he’d always liked this particular piece of music. Mysterious, lulling, nostalgic— it was beautiful, and suddenly, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the stage.

But maybe that particular fact had something to do with the appearance of the prima ballerina.

She was gorgeous, yes, but this was not what utterly enamoured Brian upon first sight.

It was the way she moved.

It was said that the majority of human expression lay not in the wealth of words, but in the depths of body language, and as the prima ballerina moved, she wholly became Odette, and Odette became the epitome of expression. Brian found it hard to believe that he was watching a dancer, a real human being, rather than the porcelain figurine in a music box, because her grace was immaculate; not the whisper of a mistake seemed possible between her steps. Brian felt oddly moved by it all, because it was when he played music that he felt the most alive.

And now here was this dancer, bringing to life a whole other world through the way she moved to music.

He hoped she knew how beautiful her expression was. He hoped she knew that she spun across the stage as though the floor were the sky and she danced among the stars. He hoped she knew.

He resolved then, madly, to tell her, so that he could be sure.

He couldn’t bear for her not to know.

⭒

“Well,” Roger stretched his arms above his head, “that was nicer than I thought it’d be, but I think I’ll go back to the hotel now.”

“Pretty lady waiting for you?” Deacy quipped.

“No,” Roger scoffed, “I’m just tired, christ.”

Freddie patted his shoulder. “You can’t blame us though, can you, dearie?”

He turned to Brian as they all began to shuffle out of the theatre alongside the rest of the audience, afforded anonymity by being in a crowd instead of before it, and by the fact that Barcelonians did not seem to recognise English musicians. “Ready to go, Brian? You’ve had your head in the clouds all day.”

Brian frowned, preoccupied by the notion that nagged at his mind. “Actually,” he said, “do you mind if we take the back way out?”

Freddie glanced around. “I didn’t think anyone had recognised us,” he muttered, lowering his voice and his head.

“No, no,” Brian waved a hand. “There was just somebody I needed to talk to.”

“Well, I for one don’t speak any Spanish,” said Roger. “You’re on your own.”

Brian shrugged. His own haphazard Spanish would have to do.

Freddie’s brow furrowed. “Alright then, darling. Lead the way.”

Brian nodded and began weaving through the abundance of people steadily swarming in the opposite direction. It was rather like swimming upstream.

At the door to the backstage area, Brian hesitated.

There was no one to stop him from going in, and the door itself was wide open. Everyone in the theatre was so intent on leaving that no one had bothered to block this entrance.

“Brian?” John prodded. “You wanted to talk to somebody?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

He walked through the doorway, and though the space was mostly quiet, laughter floated from a corner, where a small gathering of people stood talking. Some seemed to be from the ballet company, while others bore the demeanour of critics come backstage to discuss the show.

And there she was.

Odette, as Brian had subconsciously nicknamed her in his head. But he’d seen her name in the program. He only hoped he could remember it between crossing the room and finding the courage to speak.

He turned to the others, but found that they had been distracted, drawn to a table full of drinks that proclaimed ¡gratis! by way of a little card set amongst the glasses.

Now Brian really was on his own. Odette drifted apart from her flock of admirers, a crown of feathers still on her head. Though she now wore a tracksuit instead of a tutu, she was no less elegant than she had been onstage. Even the way she held herself spoke an otherworldly grace.

Brian swallowed. Then he approached her.

“Disculpe, ¿Señora Y/N?”

She turned at his polite intrusion, lips parted in a question, and she looked almost surprised.

Brian blushed, abruptly terrified that he should make a grammatical mistake in the face of this Elysian being. “Tu eres… eras magnífico.”

Her lovely face was grim, her hands clasped tightly around her water bottle, and Brian feared he’d somehow insulted her. Somehow.

“Perdón,” she mumbled, “but I’ve got absolutely no idea what you’re saying.”

Brian could have laughed in relief. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I know what I’m saying either.”

She smiled radiantly, and Brian felt instantly more at ease.

“Well,” he said, “seeing as neither of us speak Spanish very well, I’ll stick to what I know and try English.”

She laughed lightly, folding her arms over her structured frame, one which had undoubtedly been built up with years of hard work, endurance, dedication.

Brian’s eyes caught on hers, only to have him flush again under the sway of her gaze. “Although at the moment, it seems I don’t speak any language at all.”

She laughed again, shaking her head slightly. “You’ve managed more words that I have,” she said kindly.

Brian laughed with her, to try to ease the tension knotting in his chest, but the air he breathed only grew thicker.

“I just wanted to say that you were phenomenal,” he began, and her eyes softened. His courage steeled upon seeing that she didn’t look as though she wanted him to leave. “I mean, really, truly, absolutely phenomenal. “The control over your movement, your poise, your expression,” he continued. “Just— everything. It’s indescribable. All I can say is that you’re a wonderful dancer. Though I’ve sure you’ve heard that a thousand times before, so much that it must sound like white noise at this point.”

He was rambling, and he knew it, but she didn’t appear to mind.

“Actually, no,” she responded to his unasked query. “I haven’t heard that a thousand times before.”

Brian blinked, perplexed, but she said, “People tend to take one look at the prima ballerina and tell her she’s beautiful, not that she’s talented. And,” she went on, “that’s the first time I’ve gotten phenomenal. From Brian May, no less!”

Brian was baffled. “You— you know who I am?”

“Do I know who you are?” she repeated, with satire. “Of course I know who you are! And I know who those three milling about the drinks table are as well. You’re Queen. You’re quite phenomenal yourself.”

Brian felt another blush colour his cheeks. “Maybe not quite phenomenal. We’re doing alright for ourselves, though.”

She smirked, and she was royalty herself, appalled at the ineducation of a commoner. “You’re on a world tour. I’d say that’s pretty damn phenomenal.”

“Well,” Brian balked, “thank you.”

She then fixed him with a curious stare, her eyes flitting over his face in a delicate manner. “How long are you here for?”

“Three days,” he responded slowly. “Two after today.”

“Any chance you’ll come see me again?”

Brian asked carefully, “You’d like me to?”

She smiled. “You wouldn’t?”

“Yes,” said Brian. “I mean, no, I—”

“I know what you mean.”

Brian nodded. The conversation was finished.

But there was a glint in her stare where she stood, transferring her weight from the balls of her feet to her toes, then back to her heels, as though she couldn’t stand still, as though she longed to dance, even after having finished a performance. Brian felt the same when he finished concerts. So he asked what he’d been meaning to all along.

“Would you go out for a drink with me?”

She looped an arm through his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

⭒

You usually spent your nights alone, because after the shows, you were tired, and so was everybody else.

But tonight, you were wide awake. And it had everything to do with the curly-haired guitarist sitting directly across from you.

You leaned your elbows on the table as he talked, observing more than listening. You’d asked Brian to tell you about himself, but you knew very well that everything he told you would be disproportionate to the truth; he was too humble to offer you insight on his own achievements.

So you watched instead. Watched how delicately he held his glass of beer, how his eyelashes fluttered when he talked about something that brought forth in him great passion, how his teeth caught on his lip when he paused in deep thought.

You loved to watch him think. You could almost see the rampage of ideas and impressions as they danced forth behind his honey-coloured eyes.

“Brian,” you raised your voice over the noise of the crowded bar, and he leaned forward. “You’re not telling me about yourself.”

He angled his ear toward you. “Say that again, love.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you said instead.

He turned toward you. “And where to?”

“Nowhere in particular.”

A smile curved over his lips. “My favourite place.”

Out of the bar and into the night you went, Brian’s arm hovering at the small of your back as he guided you past the beginnings of a brawl by the pub entrance.

Barcelona was a lively place, the hum of people and their festivities not slowing, even outside the tourism season, even on a weeknight.

Neither of you knew the city well, so it was fitting that you should explore it together. Between the cobblestone alleyways ensconced by potted plants, flickering lamp posts, and the sparkling sea, it was all very picturesque. Like a fairytale— como un cuento de hadas, in Brian’s words.

“So you do speak Spanish.”

He was good at it, too. His accent was nearly flawless. Had you closed your eyes, you might have mistaken the soft rumble of his words for that of a native speaker.

But then again, had you closed your eyes, your thoughts might have wandered to another place entirely, one where you imagined what it would be like to have him whisper his lovely words across your skin. You drifted closer to him with each swaying step down yet another Barcelonian street.

“Do I?” He smiled endearingly, and your stomach flipped. “I hadn’t noticed.”

You liked this side of him, the one which seemed to surface when he relaxed. Slightly cheeky, a little less enigmatic and a little more bold. Definitely attractive.

“Liar,” you said. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

And please, for the love of god, keep doing what you are doing.

He laughed in response. “I’m glad I have you fooled,” he said.

Amongst the alleys you weaved aimlessly, admiring in silence the way that no two street corners you turned looked the same, how the entire ambience of a road was changed as the light bent differently around little details or imperfections in the brickwork.

The buildings were high and though they sat close together, their roofs were flat and did not obstruct the sky; the darkness above you could still be seen.

The sky reminded you of the stage, how it was difficult to see anything— anyone— beyond the darkness, and how when the quiet settled in, it was almost as if you were dancing alone, without an audience, with only the music and yourself.

Brian wondered aloud about life on tour with the American Ballet Theatre, and in describing it to him, you quickly realised that your worlds were very similar. You knew the early mornings and he knew the late nights, and he understood the lonely melancholy of flying from city to city without ever looking back.

The loneliness. It was something you shared.

The stars were not visible, but Brian lectured you on them anyway, and for the first time that evening, you had the impression that he was talking without holding anything back, limitless in his awe of the night sky.

You asked an abundance of questions, not out of politeness, but of genuine interest. The manner in which he spoke of the stars was invigorating, enthralling, and you wanted to feel this sense of wonder forever fill your heart, as beautifully as it filled his.

“That’s beautiful, Brian,” you’d said. His lips had closed over the remnants of a sentence only partly-formed, ended almost before it had begun because he’d trailed off in thought.

“You think so?” he asked, turning toward you with a wilderness in his eyes. He’d stopped walking. “I bore everyone half to death with all this.”

You shook your head, “How could anyone be bored?”

He had a gravity about him, and an air of pensiveness that brought you pause, because you’d never before wanted to listen to someone forever, until now. Until Brian.

You suddenly craved the familiar weight of your pointe shoes, because you longed to dance. It was all you could do when your inspiration bubbled over, and right now, beneath Brian’s soft gaze, even if you’d tried, you wouldn’t have been able to remember what it was like to feel lost.

Thoughts cascaded in a waterfall through your mind, begging to be spoken, to be heard. You wanted to tell him about his gravity, his pensiveness, how he made you want to dance.

Instead, you told him to wait for you in the wings after tomorrow night’s performance, because the implications of doing so said far more than you ever could.

“Hasta mañana,” he bid you as you parted company after he’d walked you back to the theatre.

Until tomorrow, spoken so simply, as though you’d always have tomorrow.

It had not escaped you that he would depart in less than three days.

⭒

Barcelona, 20th of February, 1979

He’d come running from the stage, had handed off his guitar and swapped his jacket, and was out of the arena before most of the audience had even begun to move.

If he was quick, he could just catch the end of her show.

He took the first taxi he found, armed with flowers and a vague recollection of the instructions he’d been given yesterday by his favourite ballerina.

At the stage door, Brian addressed the security guard in what he hoped was adequate Spanish. It seemed to be, because after showing the man a pass, Brian was through.

He followed signs, through corridors patterned by the autographs of performers past, until he reached a staircase, and at the top of that, the final door between him and the wings.

There, he stopped, hesitating on the doorstep to decision.

I’m leaving tomorrow.

The old adage of ‘don’t get attached’ wasn’t one Brian was fond of, because he did get attached. Far too easily, and far too much, and if he was already so enamoured after having spent mere hours in her company, then there would be no chance of him forgetting.

After even a singular conversation with her, he’d realised that she was the romantic sort, the kind to inspire a renaissance with a single phrase, a glance, a touch, a breath. She spoke in poetry as fluidly as any other person would have breathed, and yet, it seemed that it had never occurred to anyone to tell her so. She lived in ignorance of her own etherealness, subsided in the shadows of solitude where such sentiments of narcissism would never have arisen.

But ethereal as she was, she felt far away— untouchable, almost— to those who perceived her, for who could fathom the existence of such a muse without themselves feeling displaced? She was a planet out of orbit from the sun that all others were drawn to; she was radiant enough that she could survive without its light, because she had light of her own.

A dreamer she was, and all longed to be a part of her dreams, for her presence was dappled sunlight on an otherwise rainy day, pinpricks of light flooding through the darkness like stars.

There would be no chance of forgetting her.

He would be forced to leave Barcelona with a breaking heart, and face the consequences of breaking hers.

If, of course, he had any hold on her heart.

Part of him hoped that he did, and part of him hoped that she did not care for him at all, if only to make his imminent departure easier.

He could walk away, right now, and never see her again. It would have been simpler, certainly, to avoid entangling his emotions any further, to live and let die this connection that probably should never have happened at all.

But hell, when had Brian ever done anything because it was simple?

He pushed open the swinging door and then he was in the wings, catching sight of her as she arched across the stage with infallible grace, unfathomable beauty.

She made everything around her beautiful, for she moved like light.

Starlight.

Yes, that was her. No one would have thought to describe her as any less.

And just like everybody else, Brian had fallen utterly head over heels for her.

⭒

You ran off of stage as applause resounded from the audience, your heart still thudding with adrenaline as the curtain sank to the floor behind you, as you sank from your toes to your heels, easing the weight from your ankles. It wasn’t a job in which one could relax, but never in a million years would you have given this life up. Nothing would ever come close to the rush of euphoria that was a pirouette, executed perfectly at centrestage, beneath the glow of a spotlight as radiant as the moon.

Except perhaps the look on Brian’s face as his eyes met yours.

Outside of youth, you’d never seen anyone smile so brightly. Only naïvete allowed such brilliance, when one still believed that nobody had ulterior motives, and that it only rained when it was meant to.

“You came!” you exclaimed, breathlessly flinging your arms around him.

He laughed, wrapping one arm around you and holding the other at a safe distance. “Careful, amor,” he said. “The roses have thorns, you know.”

“Oh, you brought me flowers!”

You let go of him because he’d almost lost his balance to your embrace, and he presented you with the bouquet.

“I know that everyone brings flowers, and red roses at that, but it felt wrong to arrive without any.”

But these roses were different. They were from him.

You pressed your nose into the petals, their velvety quality reminiscent of the satin of your ballet shoes, the aroma reminding you of the flower box outside of your bedroom window back home.

“They’re lovely, Brian. Thank you.”

He inclined his head, and you flushed beneath the weight of his eyes; you felt like royalty.

Still winded, though you should have caught your breath by now, you gestured toward the backstage area. “Wait by the sofas. I’ve got to change, but then I want to show you something.”

The smile already on his face broadened. “Okay.”

You brushed past him, but his fingertips brushed the underside of your wrist.

You spun, instinctively taking hold of his hand.

“Y/N, you were wonderful.”

Abruptly shy, you looked down. When you raised your head, his hazel irises twinkled.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, and so you smiled instead. A small smile, a secret, one which would forever belong to the two of you, and to the darkness of the empty stage.

⭒

When you returned from the dressing room, Brian was reclining on one of the couches. His outrageously long legs extended before him, he twirled a silver coin in his hand, staring at the token absently.

“What’s that all about?” you asked, and he snapped his fingers closed around the coin, sitting upright in an instant.

“Christ, you scared me,” he said, pupils dilated. He lowered the hand he’d pressed against his chest, and unfurled his long fingers to reveal the coin.

“It’s my guitar pick,” he told you as you sank to the cushions beside him.

“You use a coin?”

“A sixpence,” Brian nodded, holding out the coin and dropping it into your palm when you offered your hand. Pointing to the edge of the metal disc, he leaned close enough to you that his shoulder rested against yours. “Look,” he said, his voice by your ear, “it’s the serrations on the side that give the sound character. Sort of scratchy, unclean.”

“Rock ‘n’ roll,” you responded, returning him the coin. He smiled as he tucked it away in his pocket.

You were suddenly aware of how close he sat to you. His chin could have rested on your shoulder if he had only lowered his head, his breath could have stopped your heart if only it had been upon your mouth.

You were stilled in the moment, and he stared back at you in your stillness, powerful in the silence suspended between you which bound your will to his.

“What was it you wanted to show me?” he asked, quietly.

Slowly, you stood, giving him a hand up. “Come on.”

⭒

It was a bit of a walk to the Arc de Triomf, but it did not much matter to you, because every alley and alcove was an adventure in itself, made for straying souls who wandered through the Barcelona night, not because they were lost, but because they were seeking that which would inspire them. You were amongst those restless adventurers, and from what you could tell of Brian, inadvertently, so was he.

Seemingly endless with life, each corner of the city was crowded, friends and newfound acquaintances sharing stories and drinks beneath the shelter of trees, breathing the ocean air as it washed in over the land. Laughter and music drifted from cafes and bars, and the Barcelonians appeared to have a fondness for warm light, decorating fences and walls with hundreds of strung up lights, candles, lanterns, so that the whole city glittered as brilliantly as its people. The night was not warm, but it still felt that way, with the previously sun-soaked boulevards radiating their daytime heat and Brian hovering close beside you.

The dark was beginning to fully set in for the night, and you smiled at Brian. He mirrored the expression, albeit with a furrow of his brow, because he did not yet know where it was you were taking him.

Still, he didn’t ask where it was you were going, because he knew you would not tell him anyway.

You led him along the scenic route of the city, partially to distract him, partially because it was his last night in Barcelona and if he was anything like you— and he was— then he would want to see as much of the city as was humanly possible. He would want to cradle in his mind the memory of the night, crispness of the night air, the energy of the people, and perhaps the thought of you at his side.

Years and years later, these moments would still glitter in your own memory, like mirages frozen in time and stained glass, like the windows in the churches in this city where you’d dared to live so boldly. But you did not know that now. It all passed you by, as things do, before one can remember to notice them and tuck them away for later, for when happiness feels far away. But then again, there would be no beauty in knowing which memories would resurface at odd moments in one’s life, to inspire, to build a dream upon, to draw an unexpected smile. Chaos— now that held beauty.

The beach came into view, the cool breeze blowing in from the water. Barcelona’s lights twinkled about the edges of the crashing waves, the hills of sand.

A lone busker, aged in face but bright in soul, armed with only a battered acoustic guitar and his lilting voice occupied a place on the path by the beach, and Brian touched your elbow as you went by. Though you did not understand the words, the tune he sang was mournful. It made you think of flowers floating abandoned through water in remembrance of the lost.

“I know this song,” Brian said, and then said nothing more. Instead, he took your hand and spun you once around, as though the two of you were dancing. Then he continued walking, as though nothing had happened.

There was a sadness in his face, equal in sorrow to the song of the busker, and he did not look at you.

You studied his face silently, wondering what he was thinking. But it was nigh impossible to discern anything at all; he had suddenly become completely closed off, utterly unreadable. You yearned to take his hand again, if only it would make him smile.

At one point, you passed a fountain and could not resist stopping by the trickling water, gazing at the mounds of coins sacrificed in the hopes of fulfilling some hopeless wish.

He halted with you. “What is it?”

You leaned against the fountain, skimming your fingers across the surface of the water and staring as gold, silver, and copper glitters in the depths. Some of the coins looked older, roughened by age and the exchange of hands, oxidised in greens and blues, while others appeared almost newly minted. Shiny and unworn, those new coins would never see anything but the fountain, and perhaps their opulence would thus be forever preserved. Maybe some people preferred their treasures preserved, but you loved the little nicks, the little imperfections, that came with time. Character, as Brian had said. Those new coins had no character.

“Who do you think they were, all those people?”

Brian leaned against the fountain as well, then perched on the rim when his height proved to be too much to avoid falling in. “Who?”

“The wishers.”

“Well, there must have been many,” he said, sweeping a hand over the water.

A strange melancholy had taken you over, and when you looked at him, his eyes were soft and wide; he was not simply humouring you. This ancient place— with its gothic architecture and hidden streets and squares— it stirred something within him too.

“Do you think they stopped,” you went on, “like us, because they came across the fountain, or do you think they came to this place on purpose?”

His expression was pensive, peacefulness tempered by sparks that lit up his eyes in wondrous thought. Oh, how you loved that look about him. It made you feel alive.

“Both,” he said. “Some made their way here, and others found their way here, perhaps walking a path they did not intend to follow but did so without knowing.”

You sat down beside him. “Do you believe in fate?”

“No,” he murmured. Then, “I don’t know.”

“What about wishing with coins in a fountain?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “No harm could come of it. Unless of course you’re throwing away your last coin.”

“But you wouldn’t be throwing it away,” you said. “You’d be spending it, on a wish.”

“Best hope your wish is worth it then,” he responded, not unkindly, but with a playful undertone.

You blinked at him in confusion, but he dropped his hand to his pocket and pulled out the sixpence. He held it up and it sparkled in the light of the flickering street lamps.

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Is your wish worth my sixpence?” he asked, turning the coin between his fingers.

Not just any sixpence. His guitar pick.

“How long have you had that sixpence for, Brian?” you said softly.

His smile faltered, in a strangely open show of sentimentality. “Since the beginning,” he said.

“Meaning…”

“Meaning nine years.” His eyes left the coin and found your eyes instead. “So. Is it worth it?”

You shook your head slowly. “Nine years, Brian.”

He leaned toward you, holding the coin between you. His eyes were warmer than the light which bathed the street. He whispered, “What are you wishing for, my love?”

You shook your head again. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

“But it’s worth it, then?”

You nodded.

“For you, amor.”

He kissed the sixpence and tossed it into the fountain, and you wished that one day you might see him again.

⭒

Time, it seemed, was of no consequence in Barcelona, and washed away as easily as rain. The walk disappeared between the folds of time, and when you next rounded the corner of a road, the Arc came into view.

Brian laughed, “Ah, so we’re going sight-seeing?”

“No,” you shook your head, “not quite.”

He frowned.

You smiled. “Come on, starchaser.”

You slipped your hand into his, and slowly but with decision, he folded his fingers through yours. You felt the flutter of his pulse against your wrist.

The Arc came into better view, but squinting up at the sky, you could see that you still were not quite close enough.

A few more steps, and then you were there.

You pulled Brian’s hand so that he came to stand right before the Arc.

“Look up,” you told him, and he raised his eyes to the sky.

Beneath the Arc, the moon rose in glistening whites and yellows, illuminating the sky in a halo of light and giving the archway the impression of housing a crystal ball.

“I saw it last night, when I was on my way back to my hotel,” you said. “I know you still can’t see the stars, but—”

“I love it.”

You turned your gaze on Brian’s face and found that he was staring at the moon, his expression caught between wonder and wistfulness.

Then he looked at you.

The wonder and wistfulness remained.

“I love that you thought of me when you saw it,” he said softly.

For a moment, you thought that he might kiss you, staring at you so unabashedly, his eyes flickering between yours, as though he intended to draw you to him and finally replace your intake of breath with his lips. But he didn’t. He took your hand again.

“I’m not usually this forward,” he murmured, running his thumb over the back of your hand, and your heartbeat quickened.

“You call this forward?” you laughed, but the sound caught in your throat as you stared at his fingers curled around your own.

“I’ve only known you a day,” he replied.

It was true, you realised. You’d only just met him, really. But with his soft-spoken manner and intelligent conversation, a day had multiplied for an age, and you’d spent a hundred years waiting for him to wrap his arms around you.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“I know,” you said.

“I don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

He shook his head slowly, clasping both of your hands. “Why is it that it’s so easy for me to say all this to you now?”

His skin was warm, his fingers calloused, and his touch was so gentle that it weakened you where you stood.

“Sometimes,” you said, “we’re more honest with strangers than with those closest to us.”

“Why?”

You frowned. “I don’t know— anonymity? A lack of feeling responsible for whatever impact our words may have upon the listener?” He turned your hand over absently as you spoke, tracing circles over your skin. “Or simplicity?” you continued, fighting the urge to shudder. “For the simple fact that they do not know us and will not judge us on the basis of how they believe we should act, in accordance with how they know us? It’s difficult to understand, and nonetheless, it seems to happen.”

His eyes flickered. “I care.”

“What?”

“I care how my words will impact you,” he reiterated. “Would you not, in my place?”

“I would,” you responded quietly. He’d somehow moved closer without you noticing, and when his hip brushed against yours, a tingle rushed down your sides.

“So that cannot be it.”

“Simplicity, then.”

“Yes,” he hummed, “I think that makes more sense.”

“Only, the longer you speak with somebody, the less simple it becomes.” You were referring to the two of you, and he knew it. “And the less of strangers you become.”

“Maybe,” he went on in a low voice, “that is how all relationships should be built.”

“How?” you dared to ask.

“Without judgement, from the beginning.” Here he paused, and where before you’d been occupied with the caress of his fingers across your skin, you met his eyes. “So when I tell you now that you are beautiful, I mean not only that you are beautiful, but that you are an artist, talented and soulful too, and it shows, in all that you are.”

After everything, he still cared enough to make you understand that he wasn’t trying to belittle you by noticing your beauty, but rather that he earnestly thought you beautiful as well as everything he’d said yesterday, and couldn’t bear for you not to know.

It made your heart ache.

“Brian—”

He tilted his head ever so slowly, and when his hand came to rest on your cheek, he kissed your lips. Delicately, tentatively, until you pressed up against him and pulled him closer, kissed him harder, like a storm drawing him into the abyss, and from the storm you became the abyss as you drowned in his touch.

When your hands drifted to his hair and your fingers wound in his curls, he drew back from you.

“You mustn’t do that,” he whispered, and a shiver skittered down your spine behind his trailing fingers.

“Why not?” you hummed, and he brushed his lips over the corner of your mouth.

“Because you’ll drive me absolutely mad.”

You smiled languidly. “All the more reason to do it, then.”

His kiss was less hesitant this time.

⭒

By the end of the night, you thought he must have kissed you in every place in the city— beneath stone arches and under overhanging flowerpots, by fountains and along the waterline of the beach, by monuments and to the audience of marble-eyed statues, never once shy in his affections, as he had previously been.

With each breath he lingered longer, and you became more desperate to keep his mouth on yours, to have his hands roam your skin, to run your fingers through his hair and to hear him hum with pleasure at your touch.

And then the rain started.

Out of nowhere, it came rushing down from the sky in a heavy torrent, like sand spilling through an hourglass on borrowed time, and Brian pulled you under the awning of a closed shop.

You laughed as he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips now speckled with rainwater that tasted like the open sky and the flower fields one might have found beneath.

He brushed his nose against yours, stroked a gentle finger down your face.

“It’s late,” he whispered, and his breathlessness made your heart stutter.

He was so beautiful. And here he was kissing you.

“Then take me home,” you said.

He opened his eyes, drawing back slightly. “Are you sure, my love?”

“Yes,” you breathed, because you couldn’t remember when you’d last wanted something as much as you wanted this. “I don’t usually do this kind of thing,” you added, should he have thought less of you.

But he smiled. “Nor do I.”

“You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“I know,” he said. “But it is still today.”

You ran with Brian through the rain, huddled under his jacket with clasped hands.

At the door to his hotel room, he fiddled with the rain-coated key until it finally latched in the lock and you stumbled inside, already pushing the jacket from his shoulders as he closed the door.

He kissed you hungrily now, to quell the thought of how little time there was left in which to do such things, to satisfy the burn of desperation that surely scalded him as much as you.

It made you reckless, the thought of him leaving, but you were determined that your recklessness should not be synonymous with regret, and so you slowed your movements to appreciate the softness of his mouth, the elegance of his being. Brian fell into step with you, and when he eased the blouse from your shoulders, his fingertips trailed lightly across your skin.

The cotton finally fell from your frame and he gazed at you with parted lips, a look of utter adoration in his eyes. His hands came to rest on either side of your face, and he leaned into you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

You were on your toes to kiss him and he was bending down to meet you, but then he caught your lower lip between his teeth and you whimpered. “Bri—”

He breathed your name, easing you back a couple of steps until your legs touched the bedsheet, where he gathered you into his arms and laid you gently atop the covers.

You pulled him down to you, relishing the little groan that escaped him when you parted your lips and pushed your fingers into his hair. He moved his hands from your face to your waist, his lips grazing beneath your ear, leaving tender kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, until his breath whispered against your legs and his lips the inside of your thighs.

The world fell away from around you, because there was nothing more to it when Brian was yours in the moments that followed, pretty and gentle, achingly slow in his movements.

⭒

In the afterglow, the city lights danced across the walls of the unlit room as Brian’s long fingers skimmed up and down your arm.

You were nestled close to him, your nose buried in the crook of his neck as you breathed in his lovely smell of soap and sea air and flowers, and he pressed the occasional kiss to your shoulder, as though to remind you that he was still there and had not changed his mind in how he thought of you.

Somewhere, a clock struck an early hour, and you flinched.

He was leaving today.

You wondered faintly if you would ever see him again, ever kiss those fluttering lashes and gesturing hands, with which he belonged more in Italy than in England. Or better yet, in Barcelona, with you.

So you kissed him everywhere now, and he kissed you back, and you hoped that the memory of your lips would serve you better than that of your mind, because you forget things all too easily these days; they slipped away from you in black and white fragments like piano keys, all feeling fading away into nonsensical noise and hazy pictures. It terrified you.

Brian hummed quietly when you shivered, wrapping his arms around you in wordless solidarity.

“It was always going to be short-lived,” you murmured, as though it would make it any simpler for you to let him go if you spoke aloud the logic which eluded your melancholy heart.

Brian said nothing, and you sighed.

“An English musician and ballerina signed with the American Ballet Theatre. You have your city, and I have mine.”

He ran a strand of your hair through his fingers, tucking it behind your ear. You watched him move, marvelling at his prettiness for the thousandth time, and at the thought of him choosing to lie here with you— you, of all people— adoration rushed through you. You longed to kiss him again.

But his hazel eyes found yours, and he kissed you first— softly, fleetingly, his touch dying away all too soon.

“Let us have Barcelona, then,” he said. “Our city.”

His words warmed you where fear had turned you cold.

Beneath the guise of sleep, an overwhelming sadness washed over you and pulled you under.

You pressed closer to Brian, and his hold on you tightened.

⭒

Barcelona, 21st of February, 1979

He held her hand as tightly as he dared all the way to the theatre.

The theatre was where he would leave her.

It wasn’t meant to go this way. These things weren’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to find happiness and then be forced to let go of it. You were supposed to find happiness and then by god, you were supposed to hold so tightly to it that even light could not have escaped your grasp, to be a black hole for the desire to be loved.

Brian knew that it was unrealistic, and given the way life had treated him, he should not have believed in this, this naïve idea that things would right themselves when he needed it the most.

But he was a dreamer. He couldn’t help it.

The light was slipping through his fingers.

And she moved like light.

With every step, the theatre and the dismal fate that awaited beyond it loomed closer.

Brian’s chest clenched painfully.

He began to walk more slowly, and he felt her lessen her pace beside him, felt her eyes fall upon his face as he swallowed.

They came to a stop by the doors, and he turned to her. He did not let go of her hand.

She stared up at him with doe-eyes, tears beginning to rise in their depths.

Wordlessly, he put his arms around her, leaning down to press his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes, but he preferred to gaze at her for just a moment longer.

“Write to me,” she murmured. “But don’t call me when you land.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have to get used to the thought of living without you, and I can’t do that if I still remember the sound of your voice.”

He brushed his knuckles across her cheek, and she turned her face to press a kiss to his fingers. “Prefiero un minuto contigo a una eternidad sin ti,” he whispered.

“Brian,” she laughed softly, sadly. “I still don’t speak Spanish.”

He didn’t laugh, because he was trembling as it was and did not need anything more to wrack his frame with shudders. It was cruel, how little time they’d had.

Exhaling slowly, he repeated,

“I would rather spend a minute with you than spend an eternity without you.”

She choked on a sob, and her arms wrapped around his middle as she laid her head against his chest.

“I’ll wait for you,” she whispered.

He took her face in his hands and pressed a final, bittersweet caress to her mouth.

Then he coaxed her gently from his arms, to find that saltwater streaks had stained her face.

“Oh, love,” he murmured. He touched his lips briefly to her tears, wishing for all the world that he would not have given her reason to cry in the first place. But as much as it hurt to leave her now, he would not have wished her memory away.

His hands slipped from her face to her shoulders until they found her hands again.

“Goodbye,” he whispered.

But she shook her head. “Hasta mañana.”

She had remembered. Dimly, he was aware of the tears that pooled in his own eyes.

He had only just found her, but after today, he would never see her again. Until tomorrow, she had said. And yet, they did not have tomorrow. But he could pretend. Perhaps if he left, imagining in his head that he would see her again tomorrow, then perhaps he could keep it all from tearing him apart. At least, that was what he told himself. But he was a fool, as those in love can be.

“Until tomorrow, my love.”

He couldn’t look at her as he let her fingers fall abandoned to her sides, as he took the first of many steps in the direction away from her, the way he did not want to go.

The ephemerality of existence had briefly been eclipsed by the lightness she had brought him. But he was not a black hole, and nor was she. The gold would not stay.

She had told him that she would wait for him, but who was to say when they would meet again? It might be months, it might be years. It might be a decade. It might be more.

He couldn’t ask her to wait.

He caught a glimpse of her as he rounded the corner, watched her wrap her arms around her shoulders and duck her head as she went inside. A wave of déjà vu washed over him and steeped his heart in sour melancholy. He was right back where he had started. Far away.

The world would spin as the years passed, and as it turned they would be thrown farther apart, disillusioned by the terrible realisation that what they had always believed to be naïve was exactly so. Nothing would come as a surprise, because nothing changed and nothing was new, no matter how much they might have wished for it to be.

She would forever dance in his memories, but she would not wait.

And he would lay no blame.

Who waits forever anyway?

⭒

a/n: my sincere apologies to everyone who speaks/understands spanish. i’ve been learning spanish for four years now, so i hope that experience was enough to make my grammar acceptable, haha

#this is the angst i was talking about two weeks ago oops #tina's writing #brian may x reader #fic

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kingjasnah · 4 years ago

Note

Is there the full list of brandersons favourite games reposted somewhere?

i dont think so? or not that ive seen. u can literally just sign up for the newsletter on his website but screw it ill just post them for u. it sure was a TRIP scrolling past these to get to the interlude though. undertale is on this list.....im shakign at the thought that adolin was based off ff10 tidus but i cant get it out of my head now

#10: Katamari Damaci

I love things that make me look at the world in a new way. Katamari did this in spades. It is an imaginative, bizarre vision with unique gameplay. It is like nothing else in the world and I love it for all its strangeness and occasional lack of gameplay polish.

I was transfixed the first time I played it, and have looked forward to it being remade and rereleased on multiple different consoles. I love the cute—and somehow creepy at the same time—storyline. It feels like a fever dream more than a game sometimes, and is probably the closest I’ll ever get to understanding what it’s like to do drugs.

#9: Undertale

This is an oddball on this list because I think it’s the only game that is not a franchise from a major studio—but is instead an indie game, which I believe was originally funded on Kickstarter.I loved how this felt like a novel as much as a game. It was one person’s vision; a single story told really well, with a huge amount of personality. The humor was just my kind of wonderful/terrible, and I was instantly enamored with the characters.That probably would have been enough, but it is a nice deconstruction of video games as a medium—and has not one, but multiple innovative gameplay mechanics. Together, the package left me enamored. This is a work of genius that I feel everyone should at least try, even if it ends up not being for them.

#8: Fallout: New Vegas

I have played all of the core Fallout games, and I was one of the (it seems few) who was really excited when it moved from turn-based tactics to first-person shooter. While Fallout 3 was good, it didn’t have the charm of the first two.New Vegas delivered on everything I was hoping to see. The charm was back, the writing sharp, the quests imaginative. The gameplay was engaging and branched in a variety of directions, the gunplay was solid, and the atmosphere immersive. I of course love the first two games in the series—but New Vegas combines everything I like in gaming into one package. (As a note, I own the Outer Worlds, and am looking forward to digging into it. Consider this item on the list a recommendation of other Obsidian games—like Knights of the Old Republic Two—regardless of genre, as I’ve found them universally to be superior to their contemporaries.)

#7 Super Mario World

When I was eleven, I flew (alone, which was very exciting to me) from Nebraska to visit my uncle Devon in Salt Lake City. Before I left, my father gave me $200 and told me to pay for my own meals while on the trip—but of course, my uncle didn’t allow this. At the end of the trip, I tried to give him the money, which he wouldn’t take.I mentioned my dad would take the money back when I got home, but that was okay. Well, my uncle would have none of that, and drove me to the local mall and made me spend it on a Nintendo Entertainment System. (This uncle, you might guess, is an awesome human being.)Since that day of first plugging it in and experiencing Mario for the first time, I was hooked. This is the only platformer on the list, as I don’t love those. But one makes an exception for Mario. There’s just so much polish, so much elegance to the control schemes, that even a guy who prefers an FPS or an RPG like me has to admit these are great games. I picked World as my favorite as it’s the one I’ve gone back to and played the most.

#7: The Curse of Monkey Island (Monkey Island 3)

I kind of miss the golden age of adventure gaming, and I don’t know that anyone ever got it as right as they did with this game. It is the pinnacle of the genre, in my opinion—no offense to Grim Fandango fans.This game came out right before gaming’s awkward teenage phase where everything moved to 3-d polygons. For a while after, games looked pretty bad, though they could do more because of the swap. But if you want to go see what life was like before that change, play Monkey Island 3. Composed of beautiful art pieces that look like cells from Disney movies, with streamlined controls (the genre had come a long way from “Get yon torch”) and fantastic voice acting, this game still plays really well.This is one of the few games I’ve been able to get my non-gamer wife to play through with me, and it worked really well as a co-op game with the two of us trying to talk through problems. It’s a lovingly crafted time capsule of a previous era of gaming, and if you missed it, it’s really worth trying all these years later. (The first and second games hold up surprisingly well too, as a note, particularly with the redone art that came out a decade or so ago.)Also, again, this one has my kind of humor.

#6: Breath of the Wild

I never thought a Zelda game would unseat A Link to the Past as my favorite Zelda, but Breath of the Wild managed it. It combined the magic of classic gameplay with modern design aesthetic, and I loved this game.There’s not a lot to say about it that others haven’t said before, but I particularly liked how it took the elements of the previous games in the series (giving you specific tools to beat specific challenges) and let you have them all at once. I like how the dungeons became little mini puzzles to beat, instead of (sometimes seemingly endless) slogs to get through. I liked the exploration, the fluidity of the controls, and the use of a non-linear narrative in flashbacks. It’s worth buying a Switch just to play this one and Mario—but in case you want, you can also play Dark Souls on Switch... (That’s foreshadowing.)

#5: Halo 2

Telling stories about Halo Two on stream is what made me think of writing this list.I’m sometimes surprised that this game isn’t talked about as much as I think it should be. Granted, the franchise is very popular—but people tend to love either Reach or games 1 or 3 more than two. Two, however, is the only one I ever wanted to replay—and I’ve done so three or four times at this point. (It’s also the only one I ever beat on Legendary.)It’s made me think on why I love this one, while so many others seem to just consider it one of many in a strong—but in many ways unexceptional—series of games. I think part of this is because I focus primarily on the single-player aspects of a game (which is why there aren’t any MMOs on this list.) Others prefer Halo games with more balanced/polished multiplayer. But I like to game by myself, and don’t really look for a multiplayer experience. (Though this is changing as I game with my sons more and more.)I really like good writing—which I suppose you’d expect. But in games, I specifically prefer writing that enhances the style of game I’m playing. Just dumping a bunch of story on me isn’t enough; it has to be suited to the gameplay and the feel of the game. In that context, I’ve rarely encountered writing as good as Halo 2. From the opening—with the intercutting and juxtaposition of the two narratives—to the quotes barked out by the marines, the writing in this game is great. It stands out starkly against other Halo games, to the point that I wonder what the difference is.Yes, Halo Two is a bombastic hero fantasy about a super soldier stomping aliens. But it has subtle, yet powerful worldbuilding sprinkled all through it—and the music...it does things with the story that I envy. It’s kind of cheating that games and films get to have powerful scores to help with mood.The guns in Two feel so much better than Halo One, and the vehicles drive far better. The only complaint I have is that it’s only half a story—as in, Halo 2 and 3 seem like they were one game broken in two pieces. And while 3 is good (and Reach does something different, which I approve of in general) neither did it for me the way Two did, and continues to do.

#3: Final Fantasy X

You probably knew Final Fantasy was coming. People often ask if the way these games handle magic was an influence upon me. All I can say is that I’ve played them since the first one, and so they’re bound to have had an influence.On one hand, these games are really strange. I mean, I don’t think we gamers stop quite often enough to note how downright bizarre this series gets. Final Fantasy doesn’t always make the most sense—but the games are always ambitious.Ten is my favorite for a couple of reasons. I felt like the worldbuilding was among the strongest, and I really connected with the characters. That’s strange, because this is one of the FF games without an angst-filled teen as the protagonist. Instead, it has a kind of stable happy-go-lucky jock as the protagonist.But that’s what I needed, right then. A game that didn’t give me the same old protagonist, but instead gave me someone new and showed me I could bond to them just as well. Ten was the first with full voice acting, and that jump added a lot for me. It has my favorite music of the series, and all together is what I consider the perfect final fantasy game. (Though admittedly, I find it more and more difficult to get into turn-based battle mechanics as I grow older.)

#2: Bloodborne

Those who follow my streams, or who read other interviews I’ve done, probably expected this series to be at or near the top. The question wasn’t whether Souls would be here, but which one to pick as my favorite.I went with Bloodborne, though it could have been any of them. (Even Dark Souls 2—which I really like, despite its reputation in the fandom.) I’ve been following FromSoftware’s games since the King’s Field games, and Demon’s Souls was a huge triumph—with the director Hidetaka Miyazaki deserving much of the praise for its design, and Dark Souls (which is really just a more polished version of Demon’s Souls).As I am a fan of cosmic horror, Bloodborne is probably my favorite overall. It really hit the mix of cosmic and gothic horror perfectly. It forced me to change up my gameplay from the other Souls games, and I loved the beautiful visuals.I am a fan of hard games—but I like hard games that are what I consider “fair.” (For example, I don’t love those impossible fan-made Mario levels, or many of the super-crazy “bullet hell”-style games.) Dark Souls is a different kind of hard. Difficult like a stern instructor, expecting you to learn—but giving you the tools to do so. It presents a challenge, rather than being hard just to be hard.If I have a problem with Final Fantasy, it’s that the games sometimes feel like the gameplay is an afterthought to telling the story. But in the Souls games, story and gameplay are intermixed in a way I’d never seen done before. You have to construct the story like an archeologist, using dialogue and lore from descriptions of in-game objects. I find this fascinating; the series tells stories in a way a book never could. I’m always glad when a game series can show off the specific strengths of the medium.In fact, this series would be #1 except for the little fact that I have way too much time on Steam logged playing...

#1: Civilization VI

This series had to take #1 by sheer weight of gameplay time. I discovered the first on a friend’s computer in the dorms my freshman year—and I can still remember the feeling of the birds chirping outside, realizing I’d been playing all night and really should get back to my own dorm room.That still happens, and has happened, with every game in the series. I have a lot of thoughts on this series, many of them granular and too specific for this list. (Like, it’s obvious AI technology isn’t up to the task of playing a game this complex—so could we instead get a roguelike set of modifiers, game modes, etc. to liven up the games, rather than just having a difficulty slider that changes a few simple aspects of the game?)I’ll try not to rant, because I really do love this game series. A lot of people consider IV to be the pinnacle of the series, but after V unstacked units—and VI unstacked cities—there was no way I could ever go back. If for some reason, you’ve never played this grand patriarch of the 4X game genre, it’s about starting with a single stone-age settler who can found a city—then playing through eras of a civilization, growing your empire, to try to eventually get offworld with a space program. (Or, if you prefer, conquering the world.)It’s a load of fun in the way I like to have fun, and I feel like the series has only gotten better over the years. My hat is off to the developers, who keep reinventing the series, rather than making the exact same game over and over.Now, about that request for difficulty modes...

there are runner ups but for the sake of anyone whos on mobile and cant get past a read more (first of all omg im SO sorry) ill refrain. anyway he thought WHAT loz game was the best before botw?

#mix between HARDCORE judgement and like. yea. yea ff10 was pretty good wasnt it #but i dont think its anywhere near the best of them #long post #im read mores dont work imm so fucking sorry this is so long #MOST of these games are good its just so wild its so wild its SO wild #asks #Anonymous

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twx-sid3d · 6 years ago

Text

(NOT Reaper) Anne X Lia One Shot!!

I was bored so wrote this lol. Enjoy~!!

It was Mother’s idea to throw a party for her twin children for their sixth birthday. Of course, Father wasn’t happy with it, but there was one fact that he couldn’t deny: it would be a perfect time for his children to meet men and women for them to marry.

It may sound strange for a six year old to start looking for a potential life partner, but it really isn’t that shocking. Leic, my twin brother, and I grow at a far more accelerated rate than human children. We’re the children of a grim reaper and a demon. Father thinks we’ll slow down as we age. Mother hopes he’s right. Then her children will die even quicker than expected, leaving our two immortal parents alone and childless. Father would enjoy that, most likely, but Mother would miss us dearly. She adores us.

As it is my own birthday, I refused to dress as Father wished for me to. Of course he would want me to wear a traditional dress. Of course he would want me to do the things I despise. I hate dresses; they are itchy, uncomfortable, stiff, and so hard to move in. Mother vouched for me to allow me to wear a suit. If I am to marry a man at this party, I want them to realize that their wife does not wear dresses. I don’t want to disappoint. I don’t want to hear their whining.

Mother made me a wonderful suit that fits like a glove. It is without a doubt my favorite. Just feminine enough for Father with a frilly collar and cuffs, but still without a doubt a shirt and pants. I loved it. Mother helped me style my shoulder length hair, telling me stories of the woman I was named after. Father’s aunt, Mother’s friend. She said my hair looked just like hers, but my bangs are like Father’s. And I have Father’s deep blue eyes.

Nobody at the party knew of Leic’s and my own age. They were told the Phantomhive Twins were turning twenty-two. Well... One person knew of our real age. Leic’s and my own only friend, Lia Michaelis.

Lia isn’t a true human either. She’s the daughter of Father’s two previous servants. Kira Black is the magical princess of a world far away from this one, Sebastian Michaelis the ex butler of this manor and a powerful demon—we have a Sebastian at our manor, but he isn’t exactly the real “Sebastian Michaelis”. He is a different demon, one that got stuck in my father’s web and allowed Lia’s father out.

Lia accidentally came to this world a few months ago, and now she comes every once in a while to pay my brother and myself a visit. This is one of those occasions, and so she is currently staying in one of the many vacant rooms of the manor.

Lia is a strange woman. She always wears the cloak her mother made for her as a child, both an invisibility cloak and a safety blanket, that matched her dark purple eyes. She has a dark aura and very dark magic, but a good heart. Her personality is hidden behind her dark outer walls, but I can see it. She’s incredible... And the only person I can talk openly to.

I don’t expect her to attend the party. She despises crowds, so much that she had a small anxiety attack when she met my whole, small family. I don’t want her to come to the party, for I worry she will become anxious once more. I’m more than glad that she came anyway, if only to be with me on my birthday.

Leic too, of course.

Once the sun began to set, the party attendees begin to arrive. Father made me greet them, as the eldest child, with Leic by my side. Once all of the party guests have arrived, I greeted them all and welcomed them to my—our—manor. Sebastian—our Sebastian—then showed them to the ballroom.

Leic looked very nice in his suit. Father made sure to prevent us from wearing clothing too similar. One difference between the two of us was that he’s wearing a tie—red, for Mother wouldn’t let her children go without at least a bit of red—and I’m wearing no such thing. My red hair is enough for mother, and the frilliness of my undershirt is enough for Father.

Walking into the ballroom with so many men and women of my age was uncomfortable. Leic, with our mother’s charm, was laughing and smiling with the women. I envied him, and not only due to how easy this seemed for him. I would much rather be talking to my fellow women than these men. I feel absolutely no attraction to them. But I cannot let Father know this, for he would never approve. Mother, yes—she would be overjoyed if I were to come out to her—but never Father.

Sebastian makes his way to his perch on the musician platform, the only one we have, and begins to play his violin. I wish to dance with Leic, a sweet dance between the two birthday siblings, but I see him already dancing with a blond with fair skin and crystal blue eyes in a white dress. As I watch, spinning the blue diamond Phantomhive ring around my thumb, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn my head to see one of the possible “suitors” smiling sheepishly at me. It’s clear he can see my unhappy expression.

“U-Uh, Miss Phantomhive, you look very...beautiful tonight...?” the young man with neat brown hair and matching brown eyes said. It’s clear he’s very confused by my suit, and most likely intimidated by it. Good. One should fear the Queen’s Watchdog. My eyes narrow and I know I look just like my father. I may despise that man, but I cannot deny how alike we are. But our personalities don’t mix well at all, thus our poor relationship.

“Yes, my mother made my attire,” I say, deliberately disregarding his compliment.

“Well, it looks very...stunning,” he said with his sheepish grin. Stunning... Yes. Unnatural. I’m not stupid. I know that he doesn’t approve. But he wants my fortune, so of course he’ll play nice. Trying to play the game. The game my father is a master at, and the one I am slowly excelling at.

When I didn’t respond, he added, “Umm... Would you like to dance?”

Of course I don’t want to dance. Why would I? But I glance over to the other side of the ballroom and see my parents, my mother in her elaborate red dress and styled, long red hair, and my father in his cold and controlling stance with his useless cane out in front of him, both of his hands resting on the jewel at the end of it. He only carries that around for the aesthetic. He doesn’t need a cane. Clearly.

His single eye meets my own, and I know I have no choice but to agree. I look at the man beside me. He seems more boy than man.

I don’t bother smiling. I just nod. “Yes... Of course.” I hold out my arm to him and he gladly accepts it, and then he leads me to the dance floor and we dance.

There is no emotion behind it. Only me wanting to leave. That’s how it is with every dance I do this night, the faces of countless men fading from my mind once our dance has ended. I begin to lose track of what my younger brother is doing, having no time to watch him from how many men want to dance with me.

After an hour, I have to take a breather. Sebastian and Mother taught me to dance at a young age so I am far better off than Father was as a child, but I still dislike the action. I don’t see how Mother and Leic enjoy it...

At the “snack table” as Leic calls it, my deep blue eyes catch onto a shimmering purple gown from across the room. A beautiful, dark purple gown with pieces of shining plastic embodied into it to give the wearer the appearance of a dark, star filled sky with long sleeves, the gown exposing the pale collarbone of the woman who wears it, for the fabric cut across her upper chest and hung around her lower shoulders. No cloak is in sight, only her long, straight, raven black hair down for once and cascading down to her lower back. Her bangs are their strange color, white as snow but slowly gaining the gradient of purple at the roots to light blue at the tips, a phenomenon that happens only as the sun set over the land and darkness filled the landscape. Her dark purple eyes look almost frightful as they dart from person to person as the woman keeps her distance, staying in the dark corner of the room. Why... Why is she here...?? How long has she been at the party? Why haven’t I noticed her alluring presence??

I quickly make my way to my only friend, my quick pace allowing myself to meet her from across the room in only a few minutes. When her purple eyes meet my blue ones, she seems to calm in her contained, emotionless way.

“Lia, what are you doing here..?” I question softly, looking up at the dark young woman. She’s very tall, perhaps 5’10, while I remain an average 5’6.

“....I didn’t want to miss Leic’s and your own party,” she responded in her quiet yet silky tone.

I sigh, looking around at the party goers. “You’re even paler than usual. You despise parties... Why would you even come..?? It’s only harming you...” Another sigh escapes my pink lips—Mother insisted I wore some sort of lipstick, so I chose a skin colored one—and I take her freezing hand into my heated one as I silently pull her through the ballroom. I can feel Father’s eye on me, but I don’t care. I had to get her out of here... I don’t want her to be in mental pain because of me.

I take her out of the ballroom and sigh. She even got so dressed up... She’s beautiful, heart stoppingly so, but I can’t have her getting a panic attack in that party. I take her to the best quiet place I can think of: my study.

I shut the door behind us, the thud interrupting the quiet, as I look at her. I sit on my desk, something Father despises when I do it in his presence, and take her in fully. She’s so amazing, not only her beauty... She looks like the night sky, the beauty of the night, of darkness. As the Aristocrat of Evil, it is incredibly appealing.

But I’m not about to fawn over her when I’m furious like I am.

“What were you thinking?” I demand, my ever constant anger taking the best of me. “You and I both know that you despise parties..!! Why would you put yourself through that? Are you stupid??”

“...What I chose is my decision, not yours,” she says in her calm and contained manner, calming my anger with only a few words. “I knew full well what makes me uncomfortable.... I did it anyway to celebrate the birthday of my friends.”

One thing I have always admired about Lia is how she never ceases to calm my rage, how she always stands up to me and States her mind and why I need to shut up. Mother doesn’t fight me, Leic gets unnerved when I argue with him, and Father fights me to the point where it only angers me anymore, as if he assumes he is always right.

But Lia is different. She pushes against me, yes, but not because she thinks she is always right. She fights me to meet me halfway and calm me, bringing me back down to earth. It never ceases to amaze me how she does this...

“The party is only for me to find a future husband,” I say to her, my tone having drastically calmed to a quiet and more friendly one. I only use this tone to Leic and her... Everyone else, I play the role of Angelina Phantomhive. With her and my twin, I am Anne, their sister and friend. Not below them, not above them. We are equal.

“...There are two people celebrating their birthday today,” she retorts in her quiet and collected voice. She has a strength different from my own. She’s much better at being collected than I. I envy her ability to control her emotions so easily. Father wants me to learn how to do the same, but I just can never seem to keep my emotions in check.

I am quiet for a minute or so. “...do you wish to marry Leic?” I cannot fully hide the worry and pain in my voice.

She doesn’t try to console me. But her gaze does soften just slightly. “I didn’t say that... I came to see my only two friends. That’s all... Not to marry...”

I slip off of the desk and pace over to the bookshelf on the other side of the room, looking at the books. Hide my emotions as much as I can. “...did you speak to him?”

“...Yes.”

“And?”

“We talked of the party... He joked around about the women he had talked to. Still trying to see my smile... He offered to dance with me... I turned him down.”

“You wouldn’t dare dance in front of such a group. You wouldn’t want to have that much attention on yourself.” Why didn’t Leic see that...??

“...yes.”

I look back at her to see her staring at me. Our eyes remained locked, but not in the way Father and I do when we argue. She has said all she wants to. I have so much to say, but am afraid to speak my feelings.

I look back at the shelf and see a small box next to a book. I pick it up and smile gently. A gift from Mother a year ago for my birthday��a music box which played my lullaby as a child. She said that my grandmother gave one to my father, so it only seemed right for her to give one to each of her two children.

“...would you like to dance?” My voice is soft, a mere whisper, but I know she can hear me. “In here. Not out there. Safe in my office, with only the two of us knowing. No one will watch but me.”

I look back at her, my breath stuck in my chest as I awaited her reply.

“....yes. I accept. But I’m very bad at it.”

A soft smile spread across my lips as I walked to her after winding up the music box and setting it on the shelf. One hand laced its fingers around her freezing ones, the other pressed against her back. Her hand laid gently on my shoulder. I watched Leic closely during his dance lessons, so I was just fine with leading despite the height difference.

I looked up into her dark eyes and the music began, a gentle and slow rhythm. Then, we dance. Slowly, carefully, not wanting to rush and preserve the moment. Our steps move as one, our hearts beating in unison.

I am in love with her. I realize this now as we dance around the study, the room seeming to melt away into the night sky to match her aura and dress. I want to marry her... Allow her to work by my side. Work as a team. I want us to be a pair, both of us watchdogs. Her my advisor, me the voice of the two of us. We would be an excellent pair... She completes me, keeps me grounded and reminds me that I am not in a prison of my own making. I am not trapped in my father’s specially made hell.

After all, how can it be hell if this gorgeous, perfect fallen angel is here, dancing with me?

#anne phantomhive #lia michaelis #cute #writing #one shot #black butler #kuroshitsuji #grell sutcliff #ciel phantomhive

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panda-noosh · 7 years ago

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Soggy Sandcastles {Lance x Reader}

Words: 3428

Summary: Lance plans to take you to the beach where he grew up, but his plans are ultimately spoiled by the rain. Or are they?

Notes: i had the day off today and decided to work on trying to get through this writers block. i have a few drabbles i’ve done, but i quite enjoyed writing this one particularly. tell me what you think, my lovelies :) x

The rain pitter pattered against the car window, creating a soft noise to vibrate through the small vehicle you and Lance were sat in.

The beach was only a few feet away from you, the sand soaking up the rain and becoming soggy. It was in clumps by now, you could see, though that didn't make the sight of the peaceful scene any less appealing. The ocean that stretched out for miles was blowing with the wind, little spurts of water darting from it and landing in the sand, getting hidden amongst the already soaked granuels.

You sighed and slumped back in your car seat. Disappointed was an understatement. When you and Lance had woken up that morning, the sun had been shining and the birds had been chirping and the sky was a bright blue colour that matched the blue of Lance's eyes perfectly. The two of you had bounded out of bed like excited puppies, proclaiming that today was the day you were finally going to get to the beach. You were finally going to be able to see the place Lance grew up. He was finally going to be able to show you the place he had spent a good portion of his childhood.

And yet here you were, sitting in the car park just outside of the beach, with rain slamming against the window.

It wasn't the nice kind of rain, either. It wasn't the type of rain that made the skies a whimsy grey, or made the air nip at your arms. It wasn't the type of rain that you would go out in purely because it was that type of rain.

It was the type of rain that wasn't even meant to be present. The sky was still blue, and the air was still warm – the fact that it was raining barely even made sense.

You folded your arms over your chest and pouted, looking to Lance. He still had his eyes glued onto his own window in the drivers seat, a grim expression on his face. His eyebrows were pulled together, one hand resting on the steering wheel whilst his other stroked at his chin thoughtfully.

“It's okay,” you said. “We can come another day. Next time I come to Columbia we can go, yeah? Maybe I'll come over in the summer – the weather will be nicer then.”

Because today was your last day here. You had only been granted a week, and the entire week had been spent hauled up in Lance's old family home, meeting his family whilst the rain only got worse outside. You hadn't minded; just being with Lance was nice, though you had to admit that you had been excited to come to the beach with him.

You reached out and laid a hand on Lance's knee. His head jerked up, eyes snapping to yours. You raised a brow in confusion, unsure as to why he seemed to on edge.

“Do you wanna go get food?” you asked.

Lance frowned. “What?”

“Food. No point in wasting petrol. Whilst we're here, we might as well go and get something to eat.”

Lance only seemed to grow more and more confused, eyebrows knitting together. “I thought you wanted to see the beach I grew up on.”

You blinked. He wasn't serious. He couldn't be serious. You darted your eyes past his head to the window, where the rain was still battering down against the glass.

“Lance, I don't know if you've noticed, babe, but it's a bit wet outside.”

Lance followed your gaze to the window and nodded absently. He seemed so out of it at this moment, as if he had been lost in his own world and was only now returning.

He turned back to you, nodded once before he was pushing open the car door and getting out. Your eyes widened as the rain drops blew into the car, dotting the leather seat Lance had just stood from. Some of the rain drops found your knees, and you squealed, tugging them into your chest.

“Lance!” you exclaimed. “What are you doing? Get back in the car, Lance! It's freezing!”

“Ah, no it's not,” Lance scoffed. He slammed the drivers side door shut and you watched on in horror as he made his way around to your side. You tried with everything in you to shuffle away from him, to climb over the gear stick, to get away from him, but he was Lance McClain. You had been with him long enough to know that a simple gear stick and some rain wouldn't stop him from having a good day.

The passenger side door opened before you could lift your knee over the gear stick, and immediately a hand shot out and grabbed at your ankle. You squealed, grappling the air, looking for anything to grab onto that would help your case, but the odds were against you in this moment. You were simply grabbing at air, allowing Lance to easily wrap his other arm around your waist and drag you from the warm, safe confines of the car.

The cold air hit your skin and made you whine, throwing your head back as if you were a toddler having a tantrum. Lance simply laughed as he closed the door, still holding you tight against his chest, your knees pulled up and your feet kicking. He kept you airborne, not letting you go, the muscles in his forearms straining against the rabid movements of protest you were doing.

And yet he managed to keep you in his grip as he shut the door and locked the car. The rain splattered against your skin, caught in your eyelashes with you being unable to wipe any of it away.

Lance shifted you in his grip a little bit and began walking towards the beach.

“This was the plan for the day,” he said as he walked. He had a grin on his face, one that made you want to smile back. You would have if the rain wasn't blinding you completely, hammering down on the both of you like pellets. “Why should we let a little rain spoil our fun?”

“A little rain?” you exclaimed. “I wouldn't be surprised if it started thundering soon! Lance, we have to go back to the car. We're gonna catch a cold.”

Lance simply shrugged. He was still grinning, looking past your shoulder, refusing to let you down. You had given up trying to wriggle out of his grip, knowing it was only amusing him further to see you struggle and protest. So you went limp in his arms, letting him trail you down the pathway leading to the beach.

You had to admit the scene was nice, even drenched in rain. The beach was completely empty bar for a few stray fishermen who were braving the rain far better than you were. The sand was clumpy, sticking together from the dampness, and yet the added element of rain seemed to make the beach seem that little bit more beautiful. It was a rough sight, but the kind of rough sight that held a slight aesthetic to it. You could imagine somebody taking a picture of it and placing a depressing quote over the top of it.

The ocean seemed grey with the clouds hovering above it. Froth of white was washing up on the shore quicker than usual, the wind showing the water no mercy.

It was pretty. You found yourself gawking at it, unsure as to why you had protested in the first place.

Lance chuckled, and it was only then did you realise he had set you down on the sand and was standing behind you. His arms were still wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as the two of you gazed out at the dark ocean.

“It looks so . . . Evil,” you whispered.

Lance nodded. His brown hair ruffled itself against your cheek, making you crinkle your nose up. “It's not as pretty as it looks whenever it's sunny, but I was hoping you wouldn't mind.”

You raised a brow. “You knew it was going to rain?”

“No. I just knew it was a possibility.”

You chuckled, turning back to look out at the ocean and the sand and the fishermen who were now chatting away in loud voices so as to be heard over the howling winds they were braving.

“I'd really like to see it in the summer,” you said. “Whenever it looks like an actual beach.”

“I'll take you.”

“Promise?”

“I'd want nothing more than to show you the beach in the summer,” he said, eyeing you as if he couldn't believe you were even questioning him. You giggled, snuggling closer to him, allowing his warmth to chase away the wind that was pressing against your skin. You had pulled on one of Lance's light blue jackets, though the material was much too thin to be of any use in these conditions.

But Lance's arms around you made you feel safe, wrapped tightly around you as if he was afraid of letting you go. It was such a different side to him than the one everybody else was used to seeing – whenever he was with you, it was clear that he allowed himself to relax. He was quieter, calmer, smiled a little softer. Of course, whenever he was hyper, he wouldn't hesitate in overwhelming you with his loud voice and crazy antics, but it was nice knowing that he allowed his guard down whenever he was around you just as much.

He suddenly nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. “I want to make sandcastles.”

You stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“Sandcastles,” he repeated. “In the sand. I used to do it all the time as a kid.”

“I don't think the sand is in very good condition for sandcastles right now.”

He frowned, lifting his head up. He stood up straight so his head was no longer resting in the crook of your neck, his arms unwinding from your waist so just his fingertips were grazing your hips. He seemed thoughtful, a small pout on his lips, his eyes narrowed. You watched him in amusement. What was he thinking?

Your question was answered whenever he snatched your hand from your side and began to drag you towards the sand.

You yelped in surprise, nearly stumbling over your own feet in your attempts to keep up with him. From the moment your shoes hit the sand, you cringed – your shoes weren't exactly of the best material, and it didn't take much for you to be able to feel the soggy sand pressing beneath your feet.

Lance was laughing, jumping up and down excitedly as he rushed towards the centre of the beach. You trailed after him until he suddenly stopped and dropped to his knees in the sand.

You watched him with your jaw open and your eyes wide. The soggy sand erupted around his knees, no doubt destroying his trousers for good, though he didn't seem to mind. There was a sparkle in his eyes, one that told you just how little he cared about the state of his clothing at the moment.

He looked up at you, that massive grin still plastered across his face. “Well? Are you going to help?”

You raised a brow.

He sighed, answering your silent question with a silent response; simply shoving his hands into the soggy sand and beginning to mould the granules into a tower.

It was an unpleasant thing to witness, but Lance's enthusiasm made up for it. You couldn't help yourself as you dropped to your knees at the side of him and started to help, him placing his hands over yours to guide your fingers. You giggled, the soggy granules getting stuck between your fingers, clutching to your clothing, making you wince with the uncomfortable feeling of it all, but Lance was beside you, and he was giggling, and that sound alone was enough to make you smile, finding yourself enjoying the situation a lot more than you should have.

“Pass me that shell. We can use it for the window.”

“Lance, we need a moat!”

“Y/N, what are you doing? We haven't even built the second tower yet!”

“Watch your knee, watch your knee, watch your knee! You're gonna knock it down!”

This back and forth continued for you weren't sure how long. Time no longer existed as you and Lance sat, side-by-side, in the soggy sand with the rain hammering down on your arms and the ocean billowing towards you. Your focus was no longer on how cold it was, or how awkward the sand felt on your skin, but was now fully absorbed into the act of making this god damn sandcastle as pristine as you could possibly get it.

By the time you had finally finished, the sun was beginning to set and the air had gotten ten times colder than it had been before.

You slumped back on your knees and gazed at the masterpiece you and Lance had just created. Two towers made from soggy sand, crumbling at the edges, fragile to the touch. You had crafted a small moat wall out of sand, though you could barely see it due to how much it had fallen. You still looked at it fondly, though, proud of what the two of you had done.

You shot a glance over to Lance. He was grinning that famous grin of his, rain having soaked his hair to the point where his fringe had fallen into his face, hairs trailing down his nose, dripping water on his upper lip that he ignored as he basked in the sight of his creation.

“I think this is what it's going to feel like when me and you have our first child.”

You spluttered, bursting into laughter at the sudden comment. Lance chuckled along with you, standing up and brushing the sand from his knees. You followed after him, and as soon as you were standing up straight, he had wrapped his arm around your waist and was pulling you into his side.

You knew it was a simple you-and-Lance thing, to be so proud of something so simple. It was no secret that it didn't take a lot to amuse the two of you, or fascinate the two of you, and this was only another situation to add to the heaps of proof that went towards the fact that you and Lance may just be the most childish human beings on the planet.

You didn't care, though. You had built those sandcastles, and you were going to be proud of yourself for it.

Lance bent down at the waist, reaching towards the castles. For a moment, you thought he was simply reaching down to smooth out the crumbling edges, but his hand went right past the castle itself and instead dove into the sand around it, grabbing a clump of the soggy stuff before he was rising again. You watched him in curiosity; watched as he eyed the ball of sand in his hand for a moment, watched as he seemed to ponder what to do with it-

A large clump of soggy sand was suddenly thrown into the side of your head.

You squealed, stumbling out of Lance's grip, swiping your hands down your face continuously in any attempt to rid your skin of the substance. You could hear Lance laughing as you did so, backing away as far as the tide would allow him.

“You didn't!” you yelled. You finally managed to open your eyes, your jaw open. You could still feel the sand weighing the ends of your hair down, getting tangled in the wind-attacked strands that had long since fallen out of their neatly combed style you had put them in this morning.

Lance couldn't stop laughing, gripping his stomach, raising one hand as if to fend you off before you had even done anything.

But god forbid you do nothing. That would simply press him on even further.

You weren't going for subtlety whenever you reached down into the sand and collected a clump of your own. Lance yelled, making a break for it as soon as he saw you move – but you weren't going to let him win. Not this time.

You bolted after him, nearly falling over multiple times in the sand. If Lance was trying to hide from you, he most certainly wasn't making a good job of it – he was wise enough to run zig-zags in the sand, though, making your aim a lot more difficult to obtain.

But he was squealing, flicking sand up as he ran. Either way, you followed behind him, keeping up with him surprisingly well. You had never been athletic, but you were determined, and apparently determination gave you the adrenaline you needed to keep up with your sporty boyfriend.

“I'm sorry baby!” he called over his shoulder through the giggles. “It was so tempting. I couldn't-”

His words were cut off as he yelled, tripping over a stray umbrella and landing on his stomach in the sand. You laughed loudly, skidding to a stop beside him. You dropped to your knees, saw him squeezing his eyes closed as if bracing himself for what you were about to do.

You didn't move for a number of seconds. Lance frowned, opened one eye and rolled over onto his back so he could look up at you.

You grinned down at him, still holding the clump of sand in your hand. He eyed it suspiciously, hands balled into his fists against his chest, looking like a scared child. You simply continued to smile, tilting your head slightly.

Lance raised a brow. “Mercy?”

You giggled before slapping your hand against his face. He didn't yell out as the sand collided with his skin – he barely even flinched. The fact that he had expected it, knew he deserved it, made the accomplishment ten times more rewarding.

He sighed, blowing sand out of his mouth as he did so. You howled with laughter, falling forward and leaning on his stomach as you did so. Lance didn't say anything at first, simply listening to the sound of your amusement – amusement at his despair, which you were sure was the reason why he wasn't joining you right now.

His hand wound itself around your leg and lifted you up so you were straddling him. You continued to laugh, looking at his sand-stained features. His lips were smothered with the stuff, and his cheeks were red with the coldness that had just hit them directly.

You leaned forward, no longer able to hold yourself up with the laughter coursing through you.

And that was when Lance finally broke out into a smile, lifted his arms up and pulled you down so your lips crashed against his. There was a moment of hesitation as you felt the granules beneath your lips, but all of it was washed away whenever you felt Lance's hands trail away from your neck and cascade down your back, running along your legs before finding perch on your knees; his skin was so soft, despite being covered in soggy sand.

The tide came in, soaking your knees and Lance's back, completely drenching the both of you, but you pressed your lips to his tighter, making him sigh in content even as he shivered against the cold of the water that had just completely soaked him. Neither of you seemed to care, locked in a state more accurately described as bliss.

You pulled away after a moment, finding amusement in the way Lance lifted his head as if to chase your lips, begging for more. He let his head fall back into the sand whenever you sat up straight, him realising that it was impossible for him to reach your lips now.

You giggled, looking down at him. He simply rolled his eyes, a grin playing at his lips despite the sand coating his lips. You reached up and brushed your fingertips over your own lips, getting rid of the sand that he had passed on to you.

“I told you the day didn't need to be ruined,” Lance said.

You rolled your eyes. Classic Lance. Always finding ways to make even the most dreary of days seem perfect.

#voltron #voltron headcanons #voltron scenarios #voltron fic #voltron self insert #lance mcclain #lance voltron #takashi shirogane #shiro volron #keith kogane #keith voltron #hunk garrett #hunk voltron #pidge gunderson #pidge voltron

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wingardium-letmefuckyou · 7 years ago

Text

Agate (part 2)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: When you were kidnapped and experimented on you never thought you would see the daylight again. But your family refuses to give you up. When you later find yourself safe but with unstable powers you find comfort in someone not so unlike you. He refuses to give up on you either.

Words: 1827

Warnings: Slight mention of torture, needles… And finally: BUCKY!

Masterlist

Metaphysically, Agate has a lower intensity and vibrates to a slower frequency than other stones, but is highly regarded as a stabilizing and strengthening influence. [Simmons, 6] The layered bands of microscopic quartz in Agate may appear delicate, they are actually very strong. Agate is excellent for balancing emotional, physical and intellectual energy, and in harmonizing the positive and negative forces of the universe. [Hall, 39] Agate promotes inner stability, composure, and maturity. Its warm, protective properties encourage security and self-confidence

(Source: https://www.crystalvaults.com/crystal-encyclopedia/agate)

(gif not mine)

Shuri stands ready, because that’s what a person does when Captain America gives you an urgent phone call. She immediately got to action after their hurried conversation, preparing a bed in the medical facility, all the technology Wakanda could offer at the ready. When the jet flies into sight she can feel the man next to her reposition himself. Shuri can’t help but feel proud at seeing him stand there, no longer a threat to the world. It’s her work and it gives her satisfaction that James Buchanan Barnes can finally start to find himself again. The jet lands smoothly, like it had done before, its door opening swiftly. The russian redhead comes out first. Shuri had only seen her once before but she appreciated the no nonsense woman. Next comes Steve Rogers, carrying the subject of his phone call in his arms. Shuri can immediately tell the girl is unconscious and looking in urgent need of care. “She looks so pale,” Bucky states, his voice deep and warm, eyes concerned at the limp form Steve is carrying. Shuri snorts, “you all look pale to me, buddy.” Bucky just shrugs, knowing Shuri will do all in her capabilities to help. He moves over to open the door to the facility, so Steve can easily enter. “Thanks Buck,” Steve smiles, “good to see you.” The weight in his arms costs him no effort at all but he still looks grim. Bucky smiles back, following straight behind his friend with Natasha and Shuri tailing them. Natasha starts filling Shuri in on the situation describing how they found you and what had happened on their way to Wakanda. “Her name is Y/N. She’s clearly been tortured and experimented on. God knows what HYDRA did to her,” Natasha’s voice is not void of compassion. Bucky has to force himself to keep following, the mention of HYDRA and torture making his blood freeze. “We gave her an injection on the jet, to keep her clear and awake,” Natasha continues, not aware of Bucky’s discomfort, ”her body burned it away in just minutes. Which makes us think that…” “They used the serum on her,” Bucky can’t help but interrupt. His voice is barely a whisper but everyone heard, ”She’s a Soldier.” Steve looks at him and just nods. You are one of them now and Steve has already decided he would help you and protect you, knowing Bucky won’t hesitate to do the same. Bucky thinks he might throw up, trying to force his mind away from imagining what they had done to you. It’s not just imagining but actually knowing from experience. “There are countless needle marks on her arms and legs. Probably the rest of her body too. They are just faint marks, probably due to fast healing but they are unmistakably there. She’s got some burns too;” Natasha is continuing her report on your status, knowing that she needs to give as much information as possible to get you proper treatment. “Electro shocks,” Bucky adds, his voice tight. How he had hoped to be the last. Hoped that no one ever had to go through those horrors again. But they had found a way. HYDRA always did. They had reached the examination room where Steve lowered you gently on the bed. “James, you seem to have some expertise on this matter?” Shuri asks, “ If you feel comfortable, could you stay to assist me?” Bucky wants to run. To run and hide and then run some more but he remains stoic. He can’t step away, not with an innocent girl lying there on that table, another HYDRA victim. He has to help. He knows he will be the only one to fully understand what you had gone through. “I’ll help,” he answers, voice strained but perfectly in control. “You okay, buddy?” Steve asks, clasping his friend’s shoulder. Bucky no longer shies away at the physical contact, it was only Steve after all. He nods,”I’m fine.” A lie, but only a small one. One he had perfectioned to the core. No one but the walls of his bedroom at night got to see that he wasn’t always as fine as he told everyone. Only the walls hear him scream and sob when he wakes up from his nightmares. “We gotta go,” Natasha says, bringing Bucky back to the present situation, “We have to meet Wanda in two hours.” Steve nods, giving you arm a gentle squeeze. “Take good care of her,” he says, not sure if he is addressing Shuri or Bucky. You remind him too much of that moment during the war when he had found his best friend bound to a table, he needs you to recover. “Rogers, this is Wakanda,” Shuri states, a small grin on her face. Steve only nods again. “Bucky, we’ll skype, okay?” “Yeah, I’ll hear you later,” Bucky says, his eyes never leaving you.

Bucky watches from a distance while they put an IV in your arm, adding another puncture to the already many. You don’t look like a super soldier to him but then neither had he from the beginning. Only Steve came out looking like some sculpted Greek God just after one dose. You seem oddly normal. He sighs and pulls a chair closer, positioning himself at your feet. He wants to be there when you wake up. After all, no one had been there for him when he did.

Your hearing is the first sense to come back. You wake up to a faint dripping sound, unfamiliar bird calls and someone repositioning on a chair. The sounds are all crisp and clear. You can easily tell how far the person was sitting away from you. You had quickly realized they were trying to enhance you when you arrived at the HYDRA base but this is the first time you can actually sense a difference. Next, you open your eyes. No bright lights, you let out a relieved breath. Soft blue light are embedded in the ceiling, it appears to be dark outside so you can’t tell where you are on sight. Outside… This is the first time in weeks that you find yourself in a room with an actual window. You start to take in the rest of your surroundings, quickly locating the source of the slow drips. A modern looking IV is attached to the inside of your arm. You inhale quickly, unaware that your change of breath has alarmed the man watching you. You want to scream at the sight of the needle. They had told you would be safe, liars. The next thing you notice is the absence of straps, escape being a real possibility now. Panic takes over any reasonable thoughts. Rationally, you know that this isn’t the HYDRA facility but your body has now only one goal: run. Go home. With one quick movement you sit upright and yank the catheter out of your arm.

“Hey, hey,” a soft voice says,”it’s okay. You’re safe.” You jump from the table, not fully aware what your next step should be. All you know is that you need to move. The sensation of one warm and one slightly colder hand gripping your shoulders makes you swirl around. In a reflex you grab your opponent's arm, much faster than you’d ever think you would be able to. You gasp when your hand meets nothing but metal. Eyes wide, you gape from the silver wrist you are holding to a handsome face framed by brown locks just reaching the man’s shoulder. You would only realize later that his face was actually handsome. Only later would you realize that those blue eyes were the most gorgeous ones you had ever seen or that his hair looked really soft. Right now, your brain is in survival mode and aesthetic appreciation is not on your mind.

“You’re the Winter Soldier,” you gasp surprised. You immediately let go of his arm, setting a few steps back while holding your hands defensively in front of your body. “Did they send you?” you ask, unable to hide your trembling because you’re really afraid now. “Are you coming to take me back?” Even through your panic you can see the hurt in his eyes, like you just slapped him in the face. It sobers you down, grounding you despite your fear. The Winter Soldier should not look like that, should not look that human. “The Winter Soldier no longer exists,” he answers, trying to sound reassuring as not to startle you further, “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. You can call me Bucky. I’m here to help you.” Bucky tentatively sets a step closer, he feels like he is approaching a frightened animal. Any wrong move could make you flee and he knows that chasing you down won’t help to convince you that you’re safe. He can’t help but remember that one time in Brooklyn when together with Steve he had tried to get closer to an abandoned little kitten that was crying for his mother. Right now, you remind him so much of that kitten.

“Where is here?” you ask. “Wakanda,” Bucky answers, setting one more step closer, “They helped me here too. Steve and Natasha brought you here. Do you remember that, Y/N?” It’s the first time he uses your name and it sounds oddly comforting. “I was on the jet…” you begin, once again crawling through the fog that was sneaking up on your brain. The memories came easier than before, the fog less resistant. You had been on the jet, Captain America and Black Widow had saved you. Steve was a good guy, Natasha had hair like your sister. You had been awake and then not anymore. Everything around you seems suddenly very loud. HYDRA, you were safe from HYDRA. No bright lights here. You gasp for breath and then your legs give out. Too much noise, too much memories. Bucky doesn’t give you the chance to hit the ground, catching you safely in his arms almost like he expected this to happen.

“I’ve got you, doll. Come on, sit down.” He places you on the bed, his movements slow and calculated so not to startle you. You sit with your elbows on your knees, leaning forward, trying your hardest to breathe. Why is something like breathing so difficult? “Breathe with me,” Bucky says softly, purposely evening out his own breaths. He stands in front of you, a solid calm presence. Breathe in, hold, breathe out slowly. Breathe in, hold, out again. Neither of you knows how long you sit there breathing together but after a while you do feel calmer. There is still a small voice in the back of your head that screams escape but it is easier to ignore now. This is the closest to safe you have ever felt since being kidnapped. And although you’ve only just met Bucky you realize it is because you trust him.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #reader insert #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #james buchanan barnes #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #fanfiction #fic #agate #wingardium-letmefuckyou writes

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readyplayerhobi · 7 years ago

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Part Of Your World | 03

; Merman!Jimin x OC

; Genre: Little Mermaid!AU /Angst / Fluff

; Word Count: 6k

; Warnings: Descriptions of pain

; Synopsis: Jimin has always longed for the wide-open skies of the Above Sea. After saving the life of a beautiful woman, he seeks to find her and live in his dream world. But young mermen should be careful what they wish for.

Previous Chapter ; Next Chapter

Pressing himself into a small natural crevice, Jimin watched the downbeat merfolk who swam past every now and again with wide eyes that were filled with more than a little fear. There had been many times on the relatively short swim over here that he’d almost turned tail and headed back to what he knew and was familiar with.

But every time he’d wavered, he’d thought back to the breakdown he’d had, how it had felt like the walls were falling in on him and he’d resolved himself to moving forwards. This was what he wanted, this what he’d secretly thought of his whole life and now he was determined to do it.

He had no choice really, if he went back now they’d never let him free. Jimin knew he would die in that damn castle, suffocating under the protection of his family.

But still, as prepared as he had been for what he was going to do, he hadn’t been prepared for the neighbourhood he’d had to come to. He was used to the opulence and cleanliness of the main streets and palace of Thalassa, buildings that had been carved and smoothed into perfection from the bedrock by a society that cared about appearances.

Instead, Jimin was pressed against rough stone that scratched with each movement. The merfolk who lived here either did not have enough money to bother with aesthetics, or they simply didn’t care.

The Thalassa Trench was where the lowest and poorest of merfolk came to live; those who wanted to live a life of crime or simply could not afford to live in the Upper Kingdom. Jimin was pretty sure that none in his family had ever even set sight on this dark and grim place, never mind visited it.

The only light in the Trench came from bioluminescent jellyfish that found themselves caged next to doorframes. It meant that many of the crevices between buildings were pitch black, which even Jimin’s eyes could not penetrate.

And it was cold here, so cold that even Jimin found himself shivering. Merfolk were creatures that had been designed to cope with the coldness, yet even they could not live comfortably in the depths of the cold-hearted ocean.

As he watched a particular door, Jimin couldn’t stop his tail from flicking with nerves and worry. His stomach in particular felt like he’d been spun around too many times in a riptide as he contemplated his next course of action.

He’d sold his necklace for information to a rather desperate looking mermaid closer towards the main square that passed as a social area in the Trench. It had taken him an hour of watching from the darkness for someone who looked like they wouldn’t sell him crappy information. He had only one thing to sell so he had to be careful.

The mermaid had looked haggard; her blue and pink scales had probably been striking at one point but had become dull with lack of care in more recent times. She’d had a merbaby with her, wrapped in seaweed against her chest as the little one slept quietly, both of their cheeks gaunt with hunger.

It may seem a strange concept that merfolk were starving when the ocean was literally full of food, however the Trench did not lend itself to food that was easy to catch or even anything that was edible. Jimin had taken one look at some of the fish down here and known immediately that its flesh would be poison to him.

So his soft heart had won out and he’d asked for information from her. She’d given him such a look of mistrust that he’d known immediately that she had likely had her trust abused in the past, but she’d eventually pointed him in the right direction.

It turns out you truly can get anything down here in Trench, he mused to himself as he watched a young merman leave the building in front of him. All it had cost was a necklace of the rarest sea glass and he’d found someone who could hopefully solve all his problems.

The path went silent for a few minutes, with no one swimming past before he finally decided to make his move. Glancing in both directions, he ventured out slowly before knocking on the door with a shaking fist. Jimin wouldn’t lie, he was terrified right now and if he died here, it was likely no one would ever find him.

“Come in.” A feminine voice spoke out. He stayed still for a moment. All he was doing was facing a door, but it felt like he was metaphorically hovering at the edge of a precipice, with the bottom being the darkest depths of the ocean that even merfolk didn’t understand.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open as confidently as he could and swam through the entrance. The area inside the house was lit with hundreds of bioluminescent coral, providing everything with an eerie green and blue glow.

The walls had been carved extensively, providing lots of small shelves that were stocked full of items, many of which Jimin couldn’t even identify. Along the far wall was a small bed; sea moss providing a more comfortable place to sleep while a table and rock chair occupied the centre space.

On the table sat a strange looking bowl. It was made of out something black, the material shining in the dim light and he realised with a start that it was made out of something humans called metal. It wasn’t often that he found someone who used human items and his curiosity immediately sprang to the core.

He was so enamoured with the item, looking inside the hollow vessel to try and figure out its purpose that he didn’t even notice the presence next to him. It was only when a hand suddenly appeared in his vision that he jerked back with a yelp, startled.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to pry into your things please don’t turn me into a crab!” He blurted out without even thinking before wincing. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to insult his way to freedom before he’s even had chance to make his case?

It’s only when the mermaid laughs softly, her voice sounding like the soft tinkling of the strange chimes that humans liked to use on land that he actually looked at her. When he’d sought out the services of a sea witch, he’d been expecting something hideous and terrifying to look at.

All good merfolk grew up hearing the stories of the sea witches, fully in the knowledge that they were capable of doing anything while having zero morals. They were considered scourges on mersociety, renegade individuals who cared only about themselves and thought nothing of creating spells or potions that ruined the lives of individuals.

There were plenty of rumours that the more power a sea witch had, the more deformed he or she was. Power was a corrupting influence, which led to the assumption that those who wielded large amounts of magical power lost the innocence and beauty of life.

It was understandable then that Jimin had been expecting to see something horrific, a mermaid so corrupt that she had lost her tail and instead gained octopus tentacles or something as he’d specifically asked the poor mermaid in the square for the most powerful sea witch the Trench had to offer.

He’d even considered the fact that he might be killed on site, that the sea witch would recognise him as royalty and just take him out of this life right then and there. Those who ruled the kingdom of Thalassa were not popular in the Trench and sea witches in particular had more than enough reason to hate those who wielded ultimate power in the kingdom.

Instead he was graced with a vision of pure beauty. His jaw fell open as his eyes scanned her figure, not having the grace to even do it subtly. Even in the dim light that the coral offered, he could see that she was the most stunning mermaid he’d ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on, and given that he lived in the upper echelons he’d seen plenty of beauties to flick his tail at.

There was nothing hideous about her at all; in fact it was the exact opposite. She had been graced with a tail of glittering white scales, iridescent with a pearl that caused them to gleam with neon blues and greens in the coral light. He just knew that if she went to the surface, her scales would be soft with pinks, purples and blues in the natural light that the sun would offer.

The colouring of her tail matched perfectly with her white hair, not the grey of an elderly merperson, but instead stark white. As if all the pigment her hair could have possibly had, had instead bled into her scales. For a moment, he had a realisation that they were almost popular opposites in colouring and if anyone were to swim in now, they would think he was the sea witch with his dark scales.

“You’re the sea witch?” The incredulous tone in his voice was only matched by the way his eyes widened and his jaw gaped at her. There was no way the most powerful sea witch in Thalassa was this vision of beauty in front of him. Weren’t they supposed to sacrifice merbabies for their potions or something? She must surely have sacrificed a baby to look this beautiful.

She rolled her eyes at his exclamation, a surprisingly normal move that caused his face to crease in confusion. He was expecting some imposing being of superior power that didn’t make expressions like what his brothers always did to him.

“Yes, I’m a sea witch. I’m presuming I’m the sea witch that you want; therefore I’m the sea witch. And no, I haven’t sacrificed any merbabies today.” She sighed, turning towards a shelf as she stored away whatever she had in her hand.

Jimin inched away slightly, his tail curling under him as he held a hand out slightly. How had she known what he was thinking?

Catching a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eyes, she laughed again gently. “I get that question a lot. I was just born like this, which is actually very unfortunate down here in the Trench. Looks like this make you a target, which is why it’s good to be powerful. Isn’t that right my Prince?” She smirked, mocking a bow at him.

His eyes widened comically. Jimin would question how she knew who he was but decided against it. She was a powerful sea witch; of course she would know what the royal family looked like, even down here in the dark depths that never saw the glory or riches of the Upper Kingdom.

“What is it you seek young Prince? For there is always something everyone seeks from a sea witch.” She asked, a bitter smile spreading across her face that turned her features sad for a moment. A gentle flick of her tail sent her into the rock chair in front of the table and she gestured towards a second rock chair.

He did a double take at that, he was positive that it had not been here just minutes ago, he was positive of that. Jimin’s mouth opened to question it but for once he managed to reign in the rabid curiosity that had got him into so much trouble recently. He had to be smart and cautious for once, he couldn’t afford to get this wrong.

“I want something big. Maybe the biggest thing you’ve ever done and ever will do.” He started, struggling to verbalise what he’d desired all his life once he’d discovered the humans. “I..I…” He couldn’t get his wish out and frustration filled him.

“You desire to live on the land. Oh don’t look so surprised Prince Jimin. Your insatiable curiosity with the humans has even reached the deprived Trench. Your escape from the palace has also reached us too. It only makes sense, it’s the only place you can go now where no one will know you.”

Jimin sat there for a moment, stunned into silence. He didn’t think he’d been so transparent, but perhaps his secret desire had not been so secret. It may explain the desperate need his brothers had had to keep him locked in the palace. Not that it excused what they had done to him of course.

“Can you do it?” He whispered, his stomach flipping over itself constantly as his nerves got the better of him. She didn’t even need to see his trembling tail to know that he was close to gnawing off his own hand in anxiety, the tension of finally being on the verge of getting what he’d wanted so strong.

She paused for a moment, looking thoughtfully over towards her shelves before glancing back into his dark eyes, so filled with worry and determination. There was a brief hesitation before she nodded and the breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding whooshed out of him quickly.

“I believe I can. But how will you pay for this? You have nothing on you that could remotely cover the cost of something as expensive and time consuming as this.” She gestured towards his figure, noting that he had nothing on him at all. He paused, desperation filling every cell in his body at the prospect of being so close yet so far.

“I’ll do anything, you can have anything if I can get it! I don’t care what it is, please just take it and let me live on land. Please just let me be part of her world finally.” He begged, reaching forward without thinking and clasping her hand in his.

Her skin was soft and her touch gentle, surprising him once again before she extracted her hand. She pursed her lips slightly, considering her options before nodding.

“Very well. There is one thing that I think the spell would accept from you in lieu of anything material. But you have to understand that this is binding and there will be no turning back once you do it.” She frowned at him sternly. His head was nodding before he even realised, not even caring that he would never come back here.

“What would the spell want from me then?” Jimin was not an idiot, though he was aware he seemed it sometimes. He was willing to sacrifice anything he could but he still wanted to know what he would have to give up. His tail would be disappearing as quickly as sea foam on the shore but he was still curious as to what could be of such value that a spell would accept it.

“Your voice.” Was the sea witch’s simple reply. He paused for a moment in surprise, his hand involuntarily going to his throat as he thought about what his life would be like with no voice. Surely it would not matter? He could use mer-sign well enough that it would be easy to communicate what he wanted, he was sure of this.

Being mute in mersociety did not limit anyone; mer-sign had been created so that merfolk could hunt silently in the ocean and still understand each other across distances. It had evolved rapidly into a full language that all merfolk spoke as a second language, and for some a first.

Yes, he could handle having no voice and he made this known to the alluring sea witch.

“Very well Prince Jimin. This spell will take a day for me to prepare, you are welcome to use the spare room through that archway if you wish. I presume you don’t want to spend anymore time outside than necessary, correct?” She rose from the rock chair, a dainty hand gesturing towards an archway covered in seaweed.

He bowed his head towards her and swam over slowly, stopping before he entered and simply looked at her. “Thank you for this, I can’t even begin to tell you how much this means to me.” He ducked inside before she could say anything else, his cheeks heating with embarrassment.

Jimin slept far longer than he expected to, but his dreams were not pleasant thoughts of the excitement that the land was going to offer him. Instead they were dominated with images of Jungkook’s face as he swam away, the panic in his baby brother’s eyes. He dreamt of his brothers finding out what he’d done and the pain he would cause them all.

He dreamt of the castle as he’d grown up, lit at all quarters by the finest and brightest coral in the softest colours. He dreamt of the merfolk who had cared for him as he grew and the teachers who encouraged the rabid curiosity that had resided in Jimin from a young age.

He dreamt of his mother and father, the way they had always made sure to make time for him despite being incredibly busy not only with a kingdom but with six other sons.

He dreamt of the ocean, haunting in it’s emptiness yet overwhelming in its endless nature. The soothing quiet of the Deep Sea and the busyness of the Shallows. His dreams were filled with the gentle sea giants such as the awe inspiring whales and their beautiful songs that made him dance with the dolphins in the waves.

He dreamt of Taehyung, the twin with whom he had shared a womb with and whom he had shared a life with. Taehyung, who would now have to spend the rest of his life alone. Jimin would never know what his beloved brother was doing or if he was even happy or alive; he would never see his nieces or nephews. He would never see Taehyung’s smile or the artwork that allowed everyone to have just a small glimpse into the beautiful soul of his twin.

He dreamt of all this, and instead of dreaming of what he was gaining, he cried for what he was losing.

Jimin was woken up abruptly by a sudden shake, his voice groggy as he groaned out a complaint. He hadn’t had chance to sleep much over the last few days so it took a few moments for him to remember where he was and why.

Sitting up abruptly, he looked up into the gorgeous visage of the sea witch and found himself momentarily befuddled again. Shaking his head, he frowned at her as he followed her back into the main room.

“I thought it would take a day?” He asked, watching as she placed some items into a strap of seaweed that she then slung around her shoulder. Jimin would be the first to admit that he had absolutely no idea what was involved in magic, but he still expected it to be a little more…fantastical and magical.

“It does, it will take us the remainder of the day to swim to the closest shoreline that you want to go to.” Jimin didn’t even bother asking how she knew where he wanted to go, he’d officially decided that there were some mysteries even he didn’t want to unravel.

“Why do we need to go to the shoreline?” She levelled a stare at him that made him feel like he’d just asked a stupid question. It was only when he ran it through his head again that he realised it was a stupid question that was mer-thinking at its finest.

If he wanted to live on land, then he would need to be on land to live there. The sea would become inhospitable to him once the spell took effect, it made sense to do it close to the shore so that he could reach land quickly.

Sucking his lower lip between his teeth, he nodded his head and gestured towards the door, allowing her to exit first. He didn’t see any point in generating even more of her ire by asking more stupid questions, he needed her help to have this happen and Jimin was the type of merman to rub people the wrong way.

For the first part of their journey to the shore, there was silence between the two, neither one having anything to say to the other. A pod of dolphins that often played with Jimin joined them for part of the journey, causing him to giggle as they slapped their tails at him to try and get them to join in with their fun and games.

Normally he’d be more than willing to spend an hour with them, enjoying the company of the social mammals but today he had more important things to do. He sent them off with gentle pats all around, hoping that he might see them again when they breached the surface near the land in the future.

The silence between the two travelling companions was finally broken when the sea witch spoke up suddenly, a question that had obviously been on her mind bursting forth from her lips.

“Who is ‘her’? You said that you wanted to be part of her world yesterday.” She falls silent after this, watching him as they both move forward with powerful thrusts of their tails.

Jimin remained quiet for a moment, the protective feeling he had regarding his human woman raising its head suddenly at this new line of questioning. He eyed the sea witch warily, but she didn’t seem to be paying much attention to him and he decided that it wouldn’t hurt to be honest and open about this.

“She’s a human woman I saved a few months ago. Her ship went down and she was going to drown. I saved her life and brought her back to shore. She’s…one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen and I kept watching for her for weeks hoping to finally find her again. I finally did find her and I feel like…almost like she’s been waiting for me.” A soft smile has settled onto his face at the thought of her, along with excitement at the prospect of meeting her.

Quiet settles again between the two, the sunlight from above the surface filtering down through the water and catching the scales of his companion. Jimin takes a moment to admire her tail once again, a indulgent smile gracing his face when he realises that he was right.

Her tail is as pretty as a pearl in the sunlight, perhaps the most striking tail he’s ever seen on a merperson. He muses to himself that it’s a waste that such a grand tail never gets to see the light of day down in the Trench.

“So…you’re giving up everything the ocean has to offer for a human woman you’ve never talked to?” Her voice is gentle, but he can hear the scepticism loud and clear. He frowns in defence, though he understands here she is coming from if he’s being honest. He’d feel the same way if Taehyung had done this.

“It’s not just her, though I do hope that I can perhaps be with her if possible. It’s also that she represents everything that the land can offer me, everything that the sea just can’t.” He pauses, making sure that he can compose himself to try and get this thoughts across efficiently.

“Beauty of unparalleled levels, knowledge that mersociety cannot even imagine, technology that will make my eyes and my brain hurt. If I could somehow be with her too, then I wouldn’t have need of anything again. All mersociety has done is berate me for my inquisitiveness and try to stifle my need for adventure. Surely you understand? Stuck in the Trench and all?” He asks, positive that she feels the same way.

She looks at him out of the corner of the eye and he could swear that it’s disappointment he sees, which confuses him.

“Oh my prince, if only I could be like you. I wish my problems were simply that I was too nosy for mersociety, and there’s really nothing wrong with that you know. No, I know what merfolk think of sea witches and I’d rather not put myself out there in the Upper Kingdom only to get hurt. No one in the Trench cares because everyone is looking out for himself or herself. I learnt not to aspire to things I can’t have when I was a young merlass.”

Jimin is silent for a moment, cowed into silence by shame. Here he was, complaining of being misunderstood and wanting something greater than he had. Yet he already had the best mersociety had to offer, whereas some were left to suffer at the bottom.

“Sorry.” He murmurs. She waves a hand, letting him know that she’s not bothered by what he’d said. They travel in silence after that until finally the sea floor begins to rise up towards them. The sky above the surface had turned dark, the light of a full moon that had risen as they had continued on their travels giving the sea witch an almost ethereal glow.

It was at this moment that he realised she looked every bit a witch, despite his misgivings yesterday, with power glowing from her as her tail scales illuminated in the bright light. He floats for a moment, unsure of what to do, or even if he is supposed to do something, as she begins to prepare the start of the spell.

She swims around him in strange movements, muttering something soft under her breath as various items are used and then discarded into the sea. She breaks open what appears to be a hollow rock and smears the grey contents across his face, throat and tail, causing him to grimace in disgust.

He’s not sure what he expected, but it probably involved some chanting or something. Maybe some bright lights and something that looks like those things humans call fireworks that explode in the sky every now and again. He has no experience with magic so honestly he’s just guessing.

She pauses finally to look at him, her face serious and a look of complete concentration that suddenly breaks into concern which worries him intensely.

“Are you sure about this Jimin? Think hard and listen to my words closely, you have only one chance to reject this spell before it is complete and nothing can stop it.”

“This spell will allow you to live as a human being. You will breathe like them, eat like them, walk like them and die like them if your time comes too soon. The ocean will no longer welcome you like it does now if you reject it’s embrace.”

“Do you accept this Prince Jimin, fifth son of the Thalassa kingdom?” She finishes, hands clasping gracefully in front of her as she awaits his decision. He pauses for just a moment, knowing that his life will forever change after this before nodding his agreement.

Before he can even finish nodding, his throat burns violently in a flash of pain that causes him to scream. Bending over immediately, his tail beating violently as the pain becomes overwhelming; he tries desperately to press down to relieve some of the feelings.

His screams soon become chokes, his throat convulsing violently as knife like pains stab through it on all sides. It feels like someone is cutting through his throat violently and he feels light headed at the sensations before it suddenly stops.

Jimin’s gasps are loud in the quietness of the sea and he takes a few minutes to recover, the phantom pain causes his limbs to quiver slightly. He opens his eyes finally to see the sea witch looking at him in sorrow, her eyes soft with sympathy and pity.

He goes to speak only to find nothing happens, his voice rendered silent by his acceptance of the spell. Panic runs through his body at the realisation before he stops himself, remembering what he’d agreed to give up to get his wish. He’s surprised however by the keen feeling of loss he experiences, the knowledge that he’ll never hear his own voice or be able to sing again causing his heart to ache.

“Prince Jimin, there is one more thing. I apologise that I could not say this sooner but all spells require a sacrifice, which was your voice, but all spells also have a repercussion. For something as powerful and life changing as this spell, your repercussion also had to be life changing. Please know that I did not choose this for you, the spell spoke it to me once I had prepared it, as all spells do.”

He frowns, opening his mouth to tell her to continue before remembering and gesturing forward instead. Jimin had heard many tales about magic and how it always wanted something in return; in the back of his mind he had known that losing his voice was simply payment for the spell itself.

“You have chosen to given up the bounty that the sea has given you, the life it gave it you. As such, the sea has demanded a powerful price for your spell. You have four months to live as a human as you wish. But the sea is not always demanding, but it is also yielding and benevolent. As such, you are granted one chance to make your choice permanent.”

“A true love’s kiss before the four months have ended will allow you to live. If you are not able to have a true love’s kiss by the time the full moon rises again in a four month’s time, then you will be drawn back into the sea’s embrace involuntarily.”

The sea is yielding and benevolent, but it is also powerful and a force to be reckoned with. The sea will reclaim you; only it will not allow you to retain the form you have been gifted now. Instead it will ravage you like the tidal waves of a storm and take your life. You will vanish into sea foam, never to be seen again.”

She finishes her warning and Jimin stares at her in shock, shaking his head slightly as her words filter through. No, no this wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to go live on the land forever, not just four months!

“I’m sorry Jimin, the ocean does not let her creatures go quietly. For what it’s worth, I hope you find your true love and get what you desire finally.” While Jimin is frozen in the water, his mind desperately trying to comprehend what he has now realised is his likely death sentence, she leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his cheek.

The kiss causes him to jerk back and his face contorts into anger, about to scream at her for deceiving him so. But he doesn’t even get chance to silently scream as a shudder suddenly envelops his body. Startled, he looks down and it’s only upon seeing his tail that the pain begins.

Jimin had stupidly thought that losing his voice was the worst pain he’d ever felt, but he soon realised that he was wrong. It feels like his tail is burning from the inside out, like one of those underwater volcano vents that let out bursts of burning water.

Quick stabs of sharp pain begin to spread up his tail, right along the middle and in his head he is screaming so loud. He’s screaming and screaming and he can’t stop as the pain takes over every molecule of his body. But externally there is nothing but the silence of the ocean, the rhythmic thumping of the waves on the shore hundreds of metres away.

He can’t stop the thrashing of his body as he tries to alleviate the pain, but it doesn’t help, if anything it simply increases what he’s feeling. Thousands upon thousands of tiny pinpricks of stinging suddenly sear his tail and he has to watch his beautiful scales fall away to the bottom of the sea floor, leaving his tail naked as the skin slowly bleaches to match his chest.

From his hips, the most excruciating agony begins to erupt as bones begin to form and shape, bones that humans have but he doesn’t. He watches with horror as the bones cause his tail to become horribly misshapen before it finally splits into two, the sheer pain causing him to scream out in agony.

He feels like he is screaming so loudly that his family back in the palace can hear him, and suddenly he wants nothing more to be with his brothers. He wants to have Taehyung hug him so tightly while his brothers help him through the pain.

Jimin is not sure how long has passed by, it feels like it has been hours but he’s positive it has only been minutes. He’s also not sure he can handle any more pain, but when he looks at what used to be his tail he can see that the legs he had wanted so badly are only half formed.

Gasping desperately, he looks at the sea witch with pleading eyes, his entire body wracked with convulsions. She makes no move to help him and the spell continues to ravage his body.

A scorching pain on his neck suddenly adds to his overwhelmed senses and his lungs are suddenly burning for air. The feeling is so foreign to him that he doesn’t understand it at first. His hand presses to his neck as he realises that he no longer has gills and the realisation fills him that he can no longer breathe under water.

The thrashing of his body in his desperation to get to the surface reminds of him of how he had made fun of the humans for their silly swimming. He had never regretted being so cruel.

It’s only when he’s suddenly gasping the cool air of the Surface that he realises the sea witch had wrapped an arm around his waist and brought him up. She holds him steady throughout the convulsions that wrack his body. The pain increases continuously, leading him to wonder if it will ever stop.

He’s momentarily distracted from the pain by the realisation that there is liquid running down his face, and he realises he is crying like humans do. It had used to fascinate him, but all he wants right now is for the pain to stop.

As he slowly begins to lose consciousness, the battle of his body’s nerves finally taking it’s toll on his mind, he stares at the sea witch and has the strangest thought in the midst of passing out.

His vision slowly blackens but not before he realises that in the pale light of the moon that kisses the surface of the sun so softly and sweetly, he’s never seen anything so beautiful as the sea witch in his life.

A/N: Thank you for the reception to this so far :) the love inspired me to write the third chapter so I hope you like it!

#bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin angst #jimin fluff #bts angst #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fluff #bangtan angst #bts fluff #jimin fic #bts fic

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faustianexchange-blog · 7 years ago

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Master List of Faustian Exchange Prompts

All prompts, used or unused, that were submitted to the Faustian Exchange! All are posted with permission. If you use someone’s prompts, please credit them for the idea and tag us if you’d like us to reblog your work!

actresque

Grelliam: The first time William calls Grelle a woman or uses her correct pronouns.

Grelle/Angelina: first kiss after a Ripper murder.

Grelle childhood fic dealing with gender confusion

Modern day Grelle after fully transitioning to female, preferably with a tongue piercing.

Madam Red/Grelle with Grelle on one knee putting Madam Red's shoe on her (to mirror the Sebastian images with Ciel).

Adult Ciel and Lizzy, portrait-style.

mikhailis

Sebastian spending a day off with Agni when he's recovering after the Luxury Liner arc

when each servant first begins to suspect Sebastian isn't human

Mey-rin and Ran Mao bonding after Ran Mao discovers Mey-rin also speaks Mandarin.

Sebastian teaching Shiori to dance

Sebastian playing piano with Grelle draped over the back of it like a lounge singer

Doll wearing the Weston College boys' uniform.

pastelsweetart

Crack ship- Tanaka finds out who his true love was all along, tea.

Before the murder of the Phantomhive's and the cuteness of the twins.

Grell's past life? What drove them to suicide?

The real reason Sebastian is a demon. He ate a KitKat by biting it without breaking it first.Grell's eyes.

Elizabeth being a cutie while fencing

Modern! AU with Elizabeth and Grell in the cutest dresses

somniiari

D&D AU with Phantomhive twins and any other main cast on a quest causing mayhem. Are they playing D&D or are they in a D&D world? That's up to you!

Modern AU Phantomhive twins as fake paranormal investigators, claiming their caretaker Sebastian is a demon.

Sebastian/Agni bonding over taking care of their masters.

Phantomhive twins and Sebastian (and maybe Agni, Sohma, Lizzy and/or Sieglinde) as a D&D party.

Phantomhive twins OR Lizzy and Sieglinde in cute matching/contrasting outfits.

Sebastian/Agni dancing.

hannibalcatharsis-zero

Claudia and Undertaker (pairing/shipping optional, and if that's so, the use of Cedric name is up to you), canonverse. Claudia questions Undertaker about his mourning lockets, and if he would one day make one of hers. Implying/asking if she is important enough for him that her death might affect him.

Sebastian brings a cat home and naturally Ciel doesn't like it. Heartbroken, Sebastian has to let the cat go. But the cat won't go. Crack/funny, either canonverse or modern AU

Ciel twins (I'll address them as Ciel and Astre for convenience), canonverse AU or modern AU, your choice. The twins, as nobles/higher status, shouldn't be alone in this part of the city, but Ciel wanted to show Astre some factories to show how confusing, messy and poluting they are, in a way to dissuade him from his wish to have a toy company of his own - something that would drive the twins apart, with different life goals. In there, they meet an orphan employed in that factory. Alois. What unfolds from there is up to you.

Joker and Beast (shipping preferred), canonverse. Back in East End, Joker tries to find a present to Beast in order to show her gratitude for the care she showed him when he fell ill.

alternatively, Joker and Beast in modern AU. Both of them and Jumbo are legally adults, but Doll, Dagger, Peter and Wendy (regardless of their real ages) are still children under institutionalization and up for adoption. In a hurt/comfort manner, big brothers fashion, Joker and Beast dealing with their fears and emotions of having their little siblings sent into foster care versus waiting a few more years to be of legal age and all of them live together in a new life, after .

Vincent and Diederich, canonverse, brotp kind of relationship but shipping/one sided pairing is not excluded. Crack/funny. Diederich is positively shocked that Vincent would go full drag to solve a murder case of some sort. And even more shoked to see how well it makes him look.

Undertaker and Othello, canonverse. A conversation, some form of interaction, hanging out, opposing views (nothing aggressive, both seem to be very curious and open to hear other opinions even if they don't change their own). Brotp interaction between the two back in Undertaker's Shinigami days. Anything, up to your imagination.

Sebastian and Ciel, shipping not intended. Preferrably canonverse. Sebastian thinking of how everyone else sees him as deeply caring for Ciel's wellbeing, which he does with only one intent in mind - seasoning Ciel's soul to add to the 'delicacy' level he desires. Ciel knows this, so even despite living together for three years, he knows Sebastian's 'worrying' and 'affection' are all feints. However, maybe after a particularly bad nightmare, or after Sebastian doing something kind out of apparently no reason, Ciel seems to genuinely be grateful. What are Sebastian's thoughts on this? Maybe something dark and manipulating, kind of in the league of his words in the Green Witch arc when he's burning the laboratory? Or the other way around? Your choice. What I meant with no shipping is because I would prefer if this 'affection' I mentioned wouldn't be taken by you as romantic.

Joker and Bravat Sky, canonverse AU, in which they came across each other when they were young. Bravat was a charlaton, fooling people with fake fortune readings, and they meet by: either Joker is one of the people he tries to do it; or Joker attempts to steal his money and an exchange unfolds.- “Sieglinde, modern AU, rocking Japanese street fashion” (I completely stole this suggestion from the reply post on the blog, is seemed so damn cool!)

Ciel & Astre. Either tender, or dark, whichever you prefer. If it's the later, a classical contrast image, in whichever fashion you prefer.

Side by side, mirror reflex, bloody Ciel vs Astre, or some better idea in case you have it!

Joker, Doll or Beast from the Circus. Just one of them, I'm naming the three so you can choose which. Modern aesthetic/fashion look for any of them.

Undertaker and a Bizarre Doll, in a sort of gothic-esque style. Maybe something with like a cameo frame-thingy around it would work if it's not too troublesome?

Cat!Ciels, chibi or otherwise, just being fluffy.

grelluffandwillsprout

Grell Sutcliff x Reader

William T. Spears x Reader

platonic Lizzy x Sieglinde

Grell Sutcliff

Elizabeth Midford

Soma and Agni (together)

dipothebookworm

ciel/lizzy (ship)-lizzy gives ciel a fencing lesson

lizzy/seglinde(platonic/friendship)-they have asleepover. modern AU

ciel goes christmas shopping with sebastian (no ship) (before current arc)ciel/lizzy (ship) going for a walk, holding hands

lizzy and Earl Grey dueling/about to duel

Sebastian in a seifuku (preferably pink and very cute)

ciel in a dress (again) and very annoyed about it

greenfiredragonfly

Ciel gets sick, and Lizzie and Soma fret over his health; Ciel is either only mentioned, or appears briefly, with the fic focusing on Lizzie and Soma's attempts to help

Before Sebastian can be summoned, Undertaker rescues Ciel (and his twin, if you want to include him) from the cult

Soma/Lizzie (ship) - AU or possibly post-canon where Lizzie is the queen's watchdog1) Vincent and Frances as children, running or playing on the lawn of the Phantomhive Estate

Lizzie and Sieglinde; Lizzie teaching Sieglinde about British fashion: showing her dresses, etc.

Lizzie and Agni practicing with swords, Agni looking impressed

Lizzie and Soma, something cute and shippy

thequeensfakedog

Ciel and Astre (Our Ciel) taking care of each other in the cult

Astre (Our Ciel) and Alois (ship) going to a ball together

Vincent and Diedrich (shipping optional) going on a murder case for the Queen together

Ciel and Astre (Our Ciel) in the cult

Astre ("Ciel") and Alois (ship) doing basically anything together (modern or Victorian era)

Vincent and Diedrich (shipping optional) teasing each other/Vincent teasing Diedrich and Diedrich being angry about it

ifbatmanwereajedi

Grell goes overboard decorating the Reaper Dispatch for Christmas

Ciel finds old letters from his parents

Undertaker holds a comedy show to find the best joke out there

Anything with grell honestly I love them but specifically Grell in the Mean Girls Santa outfit

Claude dressed like Spider-Man

Madame Red and Grell actually happy

queencamelia

Charles Grey and Elizabeth Midford fencing or dueling. :D

Anything regarding Francis Midford and Vincent Phantomhive. Anything.

Lizzy and real!Ciel's interactions after discovering the truth about TCT.

Fabulous Lau lowkey shipping everyone of age. EVERYONE. (The Reapers are pissed, Queen's butlers are flustered.)

Ciel and co. thinking Queen Victoria's the true enemy, then Aleistor Chamber reveals he's the main Kuro villain and that he's had a hand in every scheme thus far.

Charles Grey and Elizabeth Midford fencing!

Edward and Lizzy being dorks. Maybe Edward tearing up because his little sister's about to marry? Ahaha I'm not picky. ^^

Claudia Phantomhive, Undertaker, Vincent Phantomhive, and Francis Midford in a family portrait???

easterneuropeswife

Ciel/Elizabeth going on a date

something involving the Prefects from Weston

something involving the Grim Reapers (whoever they want to pick)

Joanne Harcourt

Edward Midford

Doll/Freckles

hippykattrs

The two nine year old twins, Ciel and Astre, are having trouble sleeping. So, despite being sleep deprived, the two manage to stay up late telling stories and giggling. In their wake, they manage to catch the attention of Tanaka, who sings them to sleep. (Set in the cannon universe.)

A Hogwarts! AU, but set in Weston. The houses are the same, but it's still set in the Victorian Era.

The mourning process had never suited the Spare. He had lost everything, and he knew nothing would ever change that fact. So, despite the world around him urging him to cry, he decides to stand strong. Ciel would be. So he figured he could too. // (Please contact me if I need to specify anything. I'm not that great at writing prompts!)1. Modern! AU. The main characters, but dabbing with fidget spinners everywhere. // 2. Super edgy and dramatic™ drawing of Ciel. // 3. A headshot of Ciel and his brother.

theshadowisanotaku

Grell dressed as madam red

soma eating curry

gregory violet dressed as undertaker.

redrosecrown

Claudia/Undertaker going on a picnic inside a red cave.

Sebastian being Madam Red butler, where Madam Red sold her soul to him for giving birth and raising a child until 18 years old.

Grell baking a cake, and ruining her clothes in the process.

Sebastian getting a birthday surprise from his mother, where she gets him 100 cats, and Ciel gets furious.

Undertaker decorating Ciel's mansion with his own style. Ciel gets angry.

Viscount of Druitt has a half-demon sister. With Undertaker and her, he goes ice-skating.1.Undertaker painting Ciel wearing a violet dress and eating cake.

Undertaker and Claudia decorating a Christmas Tree.

Undertaker wearing Lizzy's clothes.

Undertaker decorating Ciel's mansion with his own style. Ciel gets angry.

Gregory Violet falling in love with Lizzy. He writes her a secret message, and watches her reading the letter.

Grell wearing Ciel's dress, he had worn in the party where he meets Viscount of Druitt.

Viscount of Druitt has a half-demon sister. With Undertaker and her, he goes ice-skating.

anonymous prompts

Modern AU, somehow, Drocell's sessions with a therapist, confronting what he has and doesn't have of his humanity

Sebastian and Agni trying to outdo each other as butlers, friendly competition that's really just thinly veiled flirting

Mindless fluff, Ciel and Elizabeth shopping for holiday presents for family and household

Grell in a green witch arc dress (but properly fitted)

The twins dressed as the prince and the pauper style aesthetic

The twins modeling on the cover of vogue

Cielois (ship) having tea, playing chess, and/or cuddling while reading in the library

Our!Alois and Real!Alois meeting

Lizzie throwing Alois a birthday party bc she finds out he doesn't really have any friends

Alois Trancy, Lizzie being a bad*ss

Fem!Grell in a nice dress

Undertaker babysitting the twins

Diederich babysitting Vincent while he was sick at Weston School.

Sebastian taking care of a stubborn, sick Ciel who refuses to stay in bed (bonus points if you add angst)

Sebastian carrying Ciel is something always good to see.

Ciel messily trying to decorate a cake (bonus points if you add Sebastian looking both amused and disappointed)

Undertaker and Grell braiding each other's hair.

Lizzy helps Ciel with his studies (ship optional)

Mey-Rin, Finny and Bard preparing dinner without Sebastian

Sieglinde Sullivan and Lizzy discussing about Ciel's work over tea-Lizzy with her hair down

Grey in Weston College uniform

Real Ciel picking flowers with his twin

The household having to take care of Pluto until Sebastian returns home

Ciel being mistaken for a girl by a group of ladies who decide to pamper him

Grell getting lost in the city and being adopted by a group of kids- Grell and/or Undertaker enjoying a train ride

GrellxUndertaker - Grell lying on the autopsy table trying to flirt with Undertaker

Ciel wandering the city in commoners clothes, maybe with a group of children

Vincents life as queen's watch dog

Shinigami dispatch life

Twin ciel angst

Sieglinde (maybe with wolfram)

Shinigami Dispatch/ or trio (william, grell, ronald), or just grell or ronald

Anything Alois related

Madame red and Grell

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #art prompts #writing prompts #prompt list #Ciel's Death Day 2018

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