Immortals - Tumblr Posts

𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

Neuvillette x Immortal! G/N Reader

Genre: Fluff, immortals/long living characters, eternal lovers, married couple, established relationship

A/N: I was scrolling through Tumblr and got inspired to write this from ONLY seeing Neuvillette's name. Anyways, I wrote this while listening to Malice Mizer (Gardenia, Au Revoir, and Baroque are my current favorites), so I hope y'all enjoy <3

You and Neuvillette have always loved each other, but you both often had doubts on if you'd be together forever. Especially given the fact that your husband is a dragon and you were cursed with immortality. And these doubts weren't because you didn't love each other or because you both didn't think the other person didn't love you. No, the doubts were because you both thought you'd get bored of each other.

You practically knew Neuvillette from inside and out, and you assumed that your husband knew the same about you. If you knew someone that well, you'd probably get tired of them after a while. Especially after being with them for 300 years.

You were cursed with immortality 100 years before you met your equally immortal lover, at the lovely age of 20. It wasn't because you did something wrong like break a contract, or even sell your soul to a witch and they gave you immortality. You were cursed because your homegrown garden had grown over to your neighbor's side of the fence.

Your neighbor happened to be a mage, or wizard, or whatever, and had a tendency to hold grudges. So, they sent you a letter that passed on the curse of immortality to anyone who read it. As soon as you were told this by said mage, wizard, or whatever they were, you burned the note to completion, and you never looked back.

You met Neuvillette when you first moved to Fontaine. You would hear all sorts of rumors about the man at court, and you often found everyone's words to be true. The rumors couldn't be more wrong, because you were confronted by a man that was nothing like what the whispered words said.

Neuvillette treated you as his equal, and when you became closer, a confidant. He never spoke badly about anyone, even the criminals he would sentence to a life in prison. He was always curious about how humans acted, and he couldn't be further from the image that you conjured in your head.

He was kind to anyone or anything he passed by, and even when he was faced with the public in court, he would make the trials as fair as he could. He never wanted to declare someone guilty unless he really believed they deserved it, and he was always consistent with his judgments. It did not matter how much he loved you, because if you ever did something that was against the law, he would make his conclusions based on facts. Never on emotions.

And as you saw the way he grew before your eyes, you couldn't help but feel entranced. Every time he spoke to you, you always wondered if he felt the exact same. He never alluded to his feelings for anyone unless he said how he felt, which wasn't often. You didn't notice your love for him until he finally spoke to you about his feelings.

"Dear, I do not know how to confess this to you, but I was told by the Melusines that my feelings for you were known as 'love'. Do you, perhaps, 'love' me as well?"

To say that you were shocked was an understatement. Regardless, you both explored the meaning of "love" with one another, and you both fell hard. Neuvillette couldn't be away from you for even a second, and he always whispered his desires to protect and love you forever in his sleep. You couldn't help but share the sentiment with him.

Now, the only things that had changed were Neuvillette's clinginess, and he seemed more sure and determined to make Fontaine a better place. For you, you finally stopped getting distracted at the thought of coming home to your husband and spending every waking second with him, and you decided that finding new hobbies to try wouldn't hurt you. Despite the changes, you both were still in love with each other. It was just more subtle, and not as needy.

Neuvillette was busy studying cases from the last couple of years, so you took it upon yourself to make a list of things you needed to buy from the market. You made a list of what to get, and you were on your merry way to the center of Fontaine.

When you finally arrived, you noticed all of the things that they had exclusively had at the markets. They had mini sculptures of the Hydro Archon, Furina, who you knew well. There were other knick knacks across the tables as well, but you only bought the things you intended to.

That was until you came across the cutest thing: a mini dragon sculpture. It was a beautiful sea blue, and it looked very similar to your husband's dragon form. You immediately picked it up and bought it. You quickly made your way back home and swiftly found the appropriate materials to wrap the tiny dragon in. You intended to gift it to Neuvillette as soon as he got home, and knowing him, he'd probably love anything you gave him.

You patiently waited for him to get home, and he did not disappoint you. As he walked through the door, undressing himself from his court robes, you stood in front of him with your gift waiting in your hands. He turned to give you a small smile as he leaned down to softly kiss you. As he pulled away, he noticed your hands moving the object in your hands impatiently, and he continued to smile at your antics.

You practically shoved the gift into his chest when he finally gestured for the item. He looked to you for guidance, and you only nodded, gesturing that he unwrapped your gift. He did so, and his smile turned into confusion. You laughed before giving him an explanation.

"I saw this at the market today... It reminded me of you." Neuvillette's eyes softened as he pulled you into his chest. You inhaled his scent and pulled him into you for a while longer. You both gladly stood there with one another, and you only broke apart when your husband had to continue getting changed.

And as you retired for the night, you felt a sense of calm wash over you both. When it didn't seem to go away, you spoke up.

"Neuvi, do you ever wonder if we'll drift apart?" You asked out of curiosity, but you regretted it when you heard his response.

"Well, of course I wonder. It is hard not to think about things like that." Even though you've always felt the same, you felt your heart crack the tiniest bit. It was one thing to assume that your partner felt that way, but it was another to actually hear them say it. But what happened next didn't surprise you in the least.

"But, if we've been with each other for this long, it seems that fate has destined us to be together for as long as possible." This eased your heart and it pulled you back into reality. Every couple, no matter how long they've been together, has thought about the possibility of breaking off, and it shouldn't be different for you both. You leaned back against the headboard as your husband leaned his head on top of yours. You stayed like that for a while, and without any warning, you kissed Neuvillette on the lips gently. He smiled.

"Well, I guess you are right. Even when we should be bored of each other, we're always together. You are the love of my life, and I'm glad I had a chance to meet you." You smiled up at the man in front of you, trying not to completely fall apart in tears. The long haired man nudged his forehead against yours, causing you to look into his eyes with the same intensity as his.

"I am glad that I make you as happy as you make me. Let us always be here. Let us continue to be here in this moment, in this decade, in this century, and hopefully for eternity. I love you so." You couldn't hold back anymore tears as you hid yourself in Neuvillette's chest. He stroked your hair as you continued to cry your eyes out in his (now) soiled night shirt.

When you finally managed to lift your eyes from your husband's chest, you heard the calmest noise ever. The one thing that could lull you to sleep if you weren't with Neuvillette:

Rain.

It was raining outside, and despite how calming it was, you knew what it really meant. You gazed up at your lover's face, but his eyes never looked sad or upset. He looked calm, and you could see a flicker of happiness beneath the sea of his dark blue eyes. You concluded that these were his happy tears, showing you every part of his love for you.

And you would get to experience every ounce of his love for the rest of your days.

*Bonus*

Neuvillette arrives at the Palais Mermonia with a small smile on his face, and the Melusines take notice.

Sedene (Melusine): "What are you smiling about~"

Neuvillette: "I don't know if I should tell you."

Sedene: "Come on! It's rare for anyone other than the Melusines to see you smile!"

Neuvillette lets out a relaxing sigh, turning to the Melusine.

Neuvillette: "I didn't think that I would feel this happy since I confessed my love to my partner, but I have been proven wrong."

He sighs once more before giving into Sedene's demands.

Neuvillette: "I am smiling because my lover for eternity has told me that they loved me, and that they are glad to have met me."

Before the curious Melusine could question Neuvillette more, he walked into his office, feeling the weight of the world fall off his shoulders. He would continue to fall in love with you over and over again, until fate had decided to take you both away.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

You know, I wasn’t really feeling the old guard for everything it was hyped up to be. And then I saw THESE TWO IN THIS SCENE

And well...promptly died and fell in love with these two immortal gays.

*i admit, tho the poem was *chefs kiss* I was waiting for joe to just go He’S mY HuSBaNd BiTcH

Guys! I wrote a story based on my track coach being immortal because if you've met him... he most definitely is. Really proud of it so I'm posting it on here.

The Immortal Investigation

Or 3 times she suspects he's immortal and 1 time she finds out.

Tags: oc!character, teen!character, female!oc, detective work, middle schooler detective work, gay ppl (happy pride ya'll), neurodivergent MC, an immortal

Words: 3,383

Mr. Dahms always made Ira’s skin prickle. It's not that he was untoward or malicious… he just seemed out of place. When he was standing in the hallway greeting kids as they walked past, he looked odd. When he was talking to the other teachers, he looked stiff. Ira used to assume that he was only awkward - until she had him for 8th grade history. 

In class, Mr. Dahms was in his element. He was lively, loud, and walked around the room with enthusiasm as he taught about the French Revolution and the Emancipation Proclamation. He talked about history as if he was there when it happened. As if he witnessed it. 

Ira didn’t have a problem with Mr. Dahms. She had a problem with letting things go. This was one of the many instances where she couldn’t shake her suspicions. She couldn’t stop the constant wandering every time she walked into his class. She couldn’t stop thinking this man was older than he let on. Ira swore Mr. Dahms was immortal, but she couldn’t prove it. 

So she did what she did best - she dug.

Observation #1

Subject has been seen coughing up unknown substances.

Ira didn’t want to be too obvious during this monitoring period. After all, if he caught on and he happened to be an average human with the average lifespan (which she doubted), he would take it the wrong way. Writing notes about your teacher that have absolutely nothing to do with the class would get her suspended. Well, she thought it would. 

She wasn’t all that familiar with the discipline process at her school.

For complete privacy, Ira wrote all her notes in the back of a nondescript, spiral notebook. She believed that because she started writing at the back of the notebook, no one would find her super, secretive data. 

All that being said, she was jotting things down like she usually did before class officially started. Ira was seated at the back of the classroom with her arms in the common “don’t cheat off of me” standard when she heard a cough. She thought nothing of it until it happened again… and again, and once more. 

Finally, she looked up in concern for the poor individual that was hacking up a lung. Ira’s eyes widened when she saw it was, in fact, Mr. Dahms bent over the trash can holding his chest in both hands. From her angle, she could see that something dark and slimy was slowly slipping out of his mouth. She itched to jump out of her seat to get a closer look at what was going on before remembering she was trying to be discreet. Instead, she decided to wait for Mr. Dahms to finish his “Cocomelon Coughs” before she would casually go to the front of the class to “get a tissue”.

It took Mr. Dahms 64 seconds for his hacking to cease. It took him three seconds to stand up straight and face the handful of 13 year olds that were whispering to each other for the whole duration of his episode. 

Mr. Dahms said, “I guess I brought something back from overseas.”

When, Ira thought, had Mr. Dahms gone overseas? He couldn’t have gone during Spring Break. Because of snow days, her school’s Spring Break had been more of a “Spring Breeze.” It would have been impractical for Mr. Dahms to take a plane to another country on Thursday and be back by the following Monday. 

She deemed it impossible.

Ira’s peers were back on their phones soon after Mr. Dahms gave his flimsy excuse. No one suspected anything but her. She was the only one really paying attention. What did Mr. Dahms cough up, and where did it come from? 

 The tapping of her foot was the only thing keeping Ira sane. Class had now started, but it hadn’t been long enough for her to get a tissue without appearing shady. Plus, she had to set up the process of “getting  a tissue” which included “getting the sniffles.” Ira was very serious about this part because if someone asked her why she needed a tissue, her plan would be ruined. 

It took two minutes and seven seconds to finish the “getting a tissue” process. Mr. Dahms had not moved, and none of her classmates had moved, but when Ira went to thow her lightly used Kleenex in the trash, the dark, slimy substance was no longer there.

Subject’s bodily fluids look to have super absorbent abilities. More  tests are required.

Substance = living dead Bubonic Plague (???)

Observation #2

Subject maintains homeostasis with only two hours of sleep.

Ira didn’t like the idea of using this bit of evidence. She didn’t think that hearing about Mr. Dahms being up in the demon hours was sound enough to be put into her notes… until she noticed that it was common knowledge. To everyone. Everyone but her.

After Ira got over the fact that she was so out of the loop even the teacher’s children looked at her weird, she started interviewing people. She knew that asking Mr. Dahms if he needed any sleep to stay sane was not going to blow over well. That was a breach of privacy.

Surely she would get suspended for it.

Ira knew that only secondary sources were obtainable to her, but how obtainable was still in question. As observant as she was, Ira had never observed any techniques to acquire friends. She tried it when she was in 5th grade. The little girl she befriended, Dynasti, didn’t take well to her constant statements about how her outfits never quite matched.

All that being said, Ira was nervous how the student population would react to her asking questions. She didn’t want to be stuffed into a locker (even if she could easily get out. Just because she could pick a lock from the inside didn’t mean she wanted to).

Recording #1 - James Apricot (7th grade athlete)

Ira: You… the basketball team. You’re on it - am I correct?

James: Yeah, I am. That’s actually where I’m going right now-

Ira: This won’t take long. Plus, this is much more important than your trivial game.

[Recording ends] 

James Apricot did not take kindly to the insult of his beloved ball game. Ira had tried to chase him down, but as much as she hated to admit it, James was extremely fast. No wonder he was on both the varsity basketball team as well as the varsity track and field team.

Ira learned two things from this recording, 1) Insulting sports teams would lead to the premature end of an interview and 2) James would have been the perfect interviewee because Mr. Dahms coaches the track team and is the assistant coach for the basketball team.

Recording #2 - Athena McCorvey (8th grade cheerleader)

Ira: You cheer for both the basketball team and the football team, am I correct?

Athena: Yep. Head cheerleader for both.

Ira: Um… good for you? 

[Ira coughs]

Ira: Have you interacted with Mr. Dahms during your extracurriculars?

Athena: Uh… yeah, but he’s not my coach, he coaches the guys. Why? Are you thinking about trying out?

[Athena snickers]

Ira: Goodness no. I find the idea of a sport where women are to dance and look sexy only so men can do better at their sport, well, repulsing.

Athena: I get where you’re coming from, but I don’t cheer for that reason. I cheer so I’ll feel pretty.

Ira: You're kidding! You must know that you are one of the most physically attractive and emotionally attractive people in this school, right? Why would you find comfort in these judgmental oafs thinking you’re pretty when they hardly know the definition of the word?

[Recording ends]

Ira learned many things from her interview with Athena. Firstly, Ira should have befriended Athena rather than Dynasti all those years ago. Athena didn’t take offense to Ira’s blunt observations like most people and instead added onto them with something equally as insightful. Secondly, for the sake of the investigation, this interview wasn’t at all necessary. Athena knew of Mr. Dahms, but only in passing. There was nothing the cheerleader knew that Ira hadn’t already analyzed.

And lastly, the recording with Athena was, just like James’, prematurely stopped. This was because Athena had kissed Ira and Ira didn’t feel as if that would have been appropriate for her professional recording. It will be documented, however, that Ira was invited to Athena’s exclusive birthday party on the Wednesday coming. 

Recording #3 - Nathan Tiddle (6th grade track runner)

Ira: Mr. Dahms is your direct coach, am I correct?

Nathan: Yep. Why are you asking? Is his birthday coming up or something? Do I need to get him-

Ira: No, no, no. This isn’t about his birthday. This is about Mr. Dahms’ circadian rhythms.

Nathan: His what?

Ira: His sleep schedule, Nathan. What do you know about it?

Nathan: I know he comes to school at 4 in the morning to set up the track the way he wants it. 

Ira: How do you know this?

Nathan: It’s common knowledge on the track team. Coach Dahms also tells us about it everyday at the beginning and end of practice. I don’t know if he’s trying to guilt-trip us into running faster cause if that’s what he’s trying to do, it’s working.

Ira: Is Mr. Dahms irritable or moody when he cleans the track at 4 in the morning?

Nathan: No. He does it everyday and everyday he always acts the same. Cheerful, nice, and - you know - he’s a coach, so he’s gonna be a [redacted].

Ira: Do you know how much he sleeps each night specifically?

James: 1 to 2 hours.

Nathan: Hey, this was my interview!

James: Shut it, little baby. 

James: Coach Dahms only sleeps 1 to 2 hours each night. Even on weekends. He’s always calling the school or being at the school at ungodly hours because he has nothing else to do and he’s never tired. Ever.

Nathan: …I could have said that.

Ira: Thank you for your input, Nathan. And James.

Nathan: Not a problem! This detective thing you’ve got going on is so cool!

[Nathan walks over to his friends]

Ira: James, I am sorry if I insulted your sport earlier today.

James: No biggie. 

[James gives Ira a “noogie”]

[Recording ends]

This was the most informative interview yet. Ira confirmed not only that Mr. Dahms functions on 1 to 2 hours of sleep, but he is never tired. No one has seen him yawn or rub his eyes. No one has ever seen him sleep. It would have been amazing if Ira could get an interview with Mr. Dahms’ wife, but even Ira knew that would be extremely difficult. As well as creepy. Yes, the creepy part was the first thing that crossed her mind.

On top of more evidence for Mr. Dahms being immortal, Ira learned that James did not, in fact, want to shove her in a locker then go on to high five his friends. James thought Ira was “chill”. Ira found it comforting that James would be one of the people gathering for Athena’s birthday celebration.

Nathan was annoying, but after some intelligently placed redirectioning, he was telling Ira all she needed to know. Ira wasn’t the happiest when he used foul language in her tape but censoring his colorful adjective wasn’t the worst part of her day. Plus, Nathan was, as James put it, a baby. Ira would let his loose lips go unpunished. This time. Ira had already warned him what would happen if expletives were used in her recording again.

Subject continues to have peak cognitive function with minimal sleep.

Athletes are nicer than they seem.

Athena likes penguins. *added to personal journal

Dahms has a continuous positive attitude. Is this because living longer makes you focus on the better things in life?

Observation #3

Subject taught my mother. And my grandmother.

The weekend had come, so Ira had decided to take 2 deserved days off from the Immortal Investigation. Ira believed strongly in caring for one’s mental health. She concluded it was because her mother did psych evaluations for the local fire and police departments. Many of the people who worked at those two places would have been better off if they took time to reflect on themselves.

Ira was in the middle of doing a deep clean for the lower level of her house when she found something quite interesting. For some reason, she’d never seen it before and Ira is the one and only cleaner of the Montgomery household.

She had found her grandmother’s highschool yearbook. To be honest, it almost made Ira tear up. Her grandmother had passed away just 3 years ago due to surgery complications. Her mother’s mom was where Ira got most of her detective-like qualities. When she was younger, she swore her grandmother worked for the CIA because of how attentive and observant she was. Her grandmother blamed it on motherhood which was a shame because Ira didn’t plan on ever having kids. She found people very confusing. Why would she add another person - that can’t talk - to the equation?

Ira was flipping through the pages looking for her grandmother’s maiden name when she caught a glimpse of a familiar face. She almost dropped the book in shock. The face was in the teachers section of the yearbook in between Mr. Daes and Ms. Didyoung. The face wore a white, fluffy beard and circular glasses. The face… was Mr. Dahms.

It wasn’t possible. How did her history teacher look the exact same as he did now than he did a good 60 years ago? Just how long had Mr. Dahms been teaching? 

Adding onto the fact the Mr. Dahms had also taught her mother, this only confirmed Ira’s suspicions. Mr. Dahms was most definitely an immortal. He didn’t seem to age, he didn’t sleep, and he was a carrier to an identifiable amount of diseases. She knew what she had to do.

It was time to confront him.

Observation period has ended.

Confirmation of results will commence.

Conclusion

Ira sat in the back of her history class with an irremovable smile on her face. When the bell rang, her classmates would file out, but she would stay. She would stay and confront this immortal being. She would show him all the observations she collected thus far, and he would be speechless. He would be caught.

But what did Ira want to do after Mr. Dahms admitted to being immortal? She had no knowledge of him hurting anyone. If anything, he was using the fact that he was immortal to better society. He was teaching children, for goodness sake! As much as outing Mr. Dahms would be a trivial activity, Ira yearned to do it. This was her first real investigation that had actually gone somewhere. She had to see it through.

Plus, Athena was waiting for updates. Ira had gotten into the habit of texting the cheerleader and Athena would actually respond to her. It was great. Athena made sure Ira understood any of the pop culture references she made, and lended a listening ear to Ira’s scientific queries.

Ring!

It was finally time. Ira was shaking in excitement as she waited for her classmates to shuffle out the room. She gathered her super, secret notebook and walked to the front of the classroom were Mr. Dahms seemed to be waiting for her.

“Miss Montgomery! What can I do for you?”

Ira took a calming breath, “I have been observing you, Mr. Dahms and the notes I have made show some interesting results. Here.” Ira handed Mr. Dahms her notebook.

Subject has been seen coughing up unknown substances.

Subject’s bodily fluids look to have super absorbent abilities. More  tests are required.

Substance = living dead Bubonic Plague (???)

Subject maintains homeostasis with only two hours of sleep.

Subject continues to have peak cognitive function with minimal sleep.

Dahms has a continuous positive attitude. Is this because living longer makes you focus on the better things in life?

Subject taught my mother. And my grandmother.

Observation period has ended.

Confirmation of results will commence.

Mr. Dahms read through the pages, his eyes widening with each line read. Ira couldn’t get rid of the smug smile on her face. She had got him.

“As you can see, my observations have led to one conclusion,” Ira straightened he blouse, “You, Mr. Dahms, are an immortal being.”

Ira didn’t think Mr. Dahms would burst out laughing. This was not how this was supposed to go.

Mr. Dahms eventually got himself under control, “Ira, you are an observant little girl, I’ll admit, but you only see what you want to see. This whole “Immortal Investigation” was under my control from the beginning.”

“N-no, that can’t be true-”

“It is, dear. I gave you this wild goose chase that you would find extremely interesting so you would get out of your own head. So that you would go and talk to other people your age. I just wanted you to make friends.”

“Mr. Dahms-” Ira was cut off once again.

“And you did, right? Athena says hi to you in the hallway and the track team can’t stop talking about you. You won, Ira, but not in the way you might have wanted to.”

Ira was speechless. This was not how this was supposed to go. Mr. Dahms was supposed to be speechless. Ira was supposed to feel victorious, but all she felt was the bittersweet end to a botched investigation. Maybe he was right. Maybe she only saw what she wanted to see.

“There’s no need to be upset. Your persistence was admirable.”

“Yes, but I was wrong,” Ira hung her head in shame.

“Everyone’s wrong once in a while. Learn from it. Chin up, detective.”

No. It didn’t matter what Mr. Dahms said. Ira was wrong. She was wrong and now she was extremely upset. She was so sure of herself that she’d dragged other people into her investigation and now they would know of her failure. This was horrible.

She skipped watching cheer practice that day. Ira went home with her head still hung. 

He wiped sweat off of his brow and steadied his breathing. Mr. Dahms sat at his desk in shock at what had just happened. Ira Montgomery had figured it out all by herself. The only other person who had even come close to figuring out what he was was… Ira’s grandmother. Mary Ann didn’t have enough evidence to support her claim, so she gave up.

Ira… he hadn’t even suspected her. She was quiet and didn’t have many friends. She did what she was supposed to do and never asked for any extra help. She was practically invisible to him. Not even the track team had spoken a peep about her interviewing his athletes. 

He was blindsighted.

Mr. Dahms was lucky he had plenty of experience thinking on his feet or he would have fumbled right in her trap.

It wasn’t like his life would be in danger if people found out he was immortal. It just wasn’t something he told people. Well, besides his wives. He didn’t think it was fair for them to be left in the dark about something like that. They were partners after all.

How he became immortal was unclear. He was born during the days of horse and buggy, diseases, and slavery. He was relatively normal. Nothing happened to him that would have said otherwise, but when the time came where his family started dying and he didn’t… he began to grow suspicious. 

Mr. Dahms could catch illnesses, but he wouldn’t be affected by them. He would simply be a carrier, just like Ira had hypothesized. Sometimes he would cough them up, but that wasn’t a common occurrence. No, he didn’t need that much sleep. This phenomenon only started happening after he reached the age of 150. He didn’t know why.

Mr. Dahms thought maybe it was time to move on from this town. 2 people suspecting him in under 100 years? It made him uncomfortable. But, then again, it could be fine. He preferred to experience as little change as possible.

He’d wait another 200 years.

Can everyone just take a minute and focus on how cute this man is? He has the most adorable smile.

I love this series so much. Jungkook is just adorable.

Title: Immortals - pt 11 Word Count: 4+k Rating: M Genre: Drama, smut, dark fantasy Warnings: language, smut Pairings: BTS x Reader/OT7 x reader Summary: Sometimes, you find your destiny. And sometimes, your destiny does whatever it takes to keep you. Written By: A & B

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You could not make me immortal because even if I faked my own death and left I would not be able to stop using ao3. Ao3 going back 100 years with 5k fics or something

One immortals love letter to another

1917, Western Front.

Dearest Maxwell,

It is in this letter, that I write to you with great indignation.

I know you don’t care for learning new languages, but I have been searching for the one that could adequately express the entirety of my fondness for you. So far, my quest is incomplete and I with it.

It hurts, dear Maxwell, that we always find each other, no matter what. It always hurts that I’ll walk into a club and find you still drinking that disgusting Dutch drink that I think is closer related to tar than water. It always makes me ache when I encounter you in the dank, damp trenches; or even worse, the other side of the battlefield.

When I first came to know of our situation, I feared the burden of infinity. But Forever doesn’t seem so daunting with you at my side, Maxwell.  

You have been a part of me, Maxwell, since that moment you barged into my house, way before the revelation of our longevity occurred, and made us two cups of tea and you got mine completely backwards. That is why I send this letter with malice intended.

Life was all I wanted it to be before you. Now I lie awake at night in a bed that should occupy your body next to mine. All of your gangly limps, and horribly ugly smiles that are all teeth and no face and disgusts me as warmth pools into my stomach.  

I will never send this letter to you, and I will never tell you. I will not tell you even when our ephemeral friends die. I will not tell you when we are overcome with joy of watching this new-born species take their first steps past infancy. And finally, I will not tell you when the sun meets the Earth and I must endure ever after with you alone and no one to distract me.

I have poured half my heart on this page in hopes that you will return some of yours back to me. But for now, I must go around and live life half-heartedly as I despair because of my cowardice.

Forgive me if I leave this adventure out of our next meeting, it is not a tale I think I could tell you face to face.

Cheerily,

Jonah.

I picked up a hitch-hiker. I always stop for them, so I pulled over out of habit. Forgetting I was on a tween road, a ghost road, a twixt road.

"I'm going to Bonn," I said.

"What century?"

"Twenty-first."

"Close enough, I can wait there."

"Hop in."

I don't pry, but I am curious.

[You left me no choice-]

I wish I could just look at you a little bit longer, live by your side a little bit longer, get to love you a little bit longer, oh please, darling-

I want to hear you talk about this world's colours, yet my only colour seems to be you-

I want you to enjoy the ever changing seasons and dance to the winds' most feral songs, for they make you smile.

I cannot see joy in these things, but I can feel yours as my own, so please-

Let me be with you, just another breath, another heartbeat longer; no matter these moments are nothing in the cold eye of eternity, for they are everything to me.

I will treasure it all, keep it closer to myself than the ability to live, for they will suffice when push comes to shove; centuries, millennia from now and again and again when the sun sets behind the horizon.

I love you.

I love you, a truth woven into my very existence.

So please- bear with me just a little bit longer, before we part our ways for good; forever. Let me exist by your side just a few seconds longer; I yearn for you.

I promise I won't come looking for you, I promise, no matter the hurt.

I love you, and this shall never change.

I love you more than myself, more than all my creations, more than they love me combined.

I love you...

more than you could ever love any of me."

Life's tears had covered all their face, as the last words escaped their anxious heart; yet all there truly was were Death's soft touches, caressing their cheek, stroking their hair.

Death's voice was crooked and ancient, trembling as it uttered a single word.

"Impossible."

And with this humble affirmation, they kissed Life goodbye, gifting them a last farewell as they turned their back to all that had been before.

'Impossible.'

the word roamed in the void.

'Impossible.'

Their fates had been decided.

And thus, Death came to visit them again, again and again; never truly leaving. That's why all of Life's creations have to die

- so they can always love each other"

I wish I could just look at you a little longer.

c / but I only get glimpses

a support group for vampires who were turned as children or adolescents. a bunch of small, melancholy kid-shaped vampires sitting around in somebody’s living room talking very seriously in tiny voices about current events in the vampire world. a lot of them dress like grandmas because they are as old as a grandma, maybe even ten grandmas. they have a network system where they can call adult-looking vampires to help them get things, drive places, pretend to be parents so child-looking vampires can get into adult movies 

I would honestly prefer reading about the stupid paranormal romance where the weird non-human boyfriend can’t work out the DVD player over Brooding Manipulative and Controlling asshole trope

no more ‘vampires who correct history books’

more vampires who don’t remember more vampires saying ‘i don’t fucking know man, google it’ more vampires not remembering important historical figures more vampires not recalling centuries worth of history more vampires saying ‘ that was at least 300 years ago, how the FUCK could i remember that detail?’ more vampires whose brains work like human brains

Little-known downsides of immortality:

Tearing your favourite article of clothing and discovering that it’s irreplaceable because the technique of its manufacture has been lost

Realising you’ve thought of the perfect comeback to someone who’s been dead for three hundred years

Not being able to eat your favourite dish anymore because the source of some critical ingredient has gone extinct

Having strong opinions about sports that are no longer played

Getting a song from the 13th Century stuck in your head and being unable to get it out because you don’t remember how it ends and you’re the only person on Earth who knows it

Having that perfect pun you’ve been waiting forever for a chance to use stop working due to linguistic drift

You wake up submerged in water with only a flashlight and a note. The note reads “You’re now immortal. Welcome to the bottom of the Marianna Trench. This is your first test.”

The hero was halfway home when they got the call.

“I’m sorry,” the person on the other end said, voice wet with tears, and the hero knew.

They knew that tone of voice, they knew this sinking in their stomach. They knew.

Their phone shattered against the ground, fingers numb.

Their friend was dead.

Again. Again, again, again again–

“Fuck,” the hero muttered, heart clenching. “Fuck.”

They were crying by the time the villain appeared next to them, and it took everything in the hero not to punch them.

“I don’t know why you do this to yourself,” the villain said, eyeing their tears.

“What, love?”

The villain tipped their head slightly. “No. Love things you can't keep.”

The hero was sure it would kill them this time, the heartbreak. They had thought after enough centuries, enough people loved, enough funerals attended, death would be an old friend and not a bullet wound. They had hoped it would hurt less.

But it still hurt, and death was chronic.

“What, you expect me to be you? Cold, killing people for fun?”

The villain raised an eyebrow at their tone.

“I don’t kill people for fun.”

“Don’t you?”

“No,” the villain shrugged a shoulder. “I just don’t care if there are casualties. Besides, not everyone is a good person in the first place. I’m doing the world a favor, half the time”

“How can you say something like that,” the hero hissed. “Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how awful you sound right now?”

The villain gave the hero a long look.

“Hero. You fight the worst people this world has to see for a living, and you’re standing here saying they deserve a second chance?”

“Yes,” the hero snapped. “I am.”

“You are a bleeding heart,” the villain observed. “It’s amazing you haven’t turned into me.”

“You and I, we are not the same.”

The villain half-smiled. “Aren’t we?”

“Shut up,” the hero looked away, chest tight. “These people, these lives, are so precious, so, so fragile, and you take them away like it is nothing.”

They were shaking, and they weren’t sure if it was rage or fear or something else. They couldn’t stop. The hero wondered if this was what death felt like. If this is what it felt like to have your body betray you, longing for the ground and solitude of a grave.

“I am not going to stand here and debate morality with you when you are breaking apart at the seams.”

“I’m fine,” the hero managed. They willed themself to stop crying.

“Death is inevitable, and you are hiding from the truth of that.”

The hero’s throat closed before they could respond.

“Your friend is dead, and no matter how much you fight, you will not win the war against death a second time. Do you hear me? You and me, we already won. We are time’s children. We will be here longer than ‘here’ will be. Death has no claim to us, and yet you keep pushing, and pushing, and pushing, because you cannot bear the weight of this gift.”

The hero’s knees gave out, and the villain caught them.

“Stop letting the guilt of being alive break you.”

“I don’t want this anymore.” It was a pitiful thing as it fell from their mouth. Something broken, worn out and tired.

The villain rested a hand on the back of the hero’s neck. “You cannot undo this any more than you could the last time you tried. I promise.”

It almost sounded like an apology.

“I am tired of loving precious, fleeting things.”

“So don’t,” the villain said easily.

The hero closed their eyes. “How?”

The villain hummed, voice soft. “Love me for a while. Until the burden of existence fades. I won’t leave.”

“You say that like loving you is easy.”

“It isn’t. But you’ve done it for centuries–what’s a few more?”

“You kill people.”

“No. I just don’t save them, and I don’t carry the guilt of not saving them, because it isn’t my job.”

“Yeah.”

“It isn’t your job either.”

The hero had known that, centuries ago. Somewhere along the way of funerals and eulogies, it had been hard to keep believing it wasn’t their fault when they were always the one left alive.

So they had stopped.

“Promise you won’t leave?”

“I couldn’t leave you if I tried.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah,” the villain agreed. “But never to you.”

Just like the hero had known it to be true when they were both fifteen, mortal, and wild, the hero knew it was true now.

And so, like every time this had happened before, across centuries and continents and deaths, the villain brushed away the hero’s tears; and they went home.

"Hello, there." One of Death's eyes seemed to half way close?... No, that wasn't the right way to put it. It changed to show the appearance of a raised eyebrow on one eye. Kind of like he was... puzzled, or perhaps a bit cynical about this encounter. It wasn't often he saw these shards of himself, his Reapers. But when he did, it usually wasn't a pretty picture, the life (so to say) of a Reaper was rarely a pleasant one. For the Immortal of Death, he was not much to look at. He was bald for one, but you couldn't tell, not with the pure white cloak and robes around him,the cloak's hood was up. His skin was pitch black, contrasting greatly with the fabric. His cloak reached the ground, but only barely. It was tattered, torn...  The side of the cloak were held together by a skull button near the top of it. After that, the cloak parted to the sides. His eyes were probably the first thing you noticed about him, considering he had no mouth or nose, and if he had ears, you couldn't see them (y'know, the hood). It was clear this was a powerful Immortal... "This is interesting."  

theimmortaldeath started following you

…

> You are not in the mood for this. 

hello…

The figure standing in front of Ghirahim was... a strange one to say the least. Well, by any normal standards he would be. The being was about 6'11, and wearing mostly whites and grays. His face was interesting. No mouth, no nose, no ears, no hair. Just a pair of pure white eyes that shifted with the being's emotions (or at least what he wanted to show) showing quite easily against the being's black skin. His shirt was a dark gray, his pants were white... but the most visibly striking apparel he had was his cloak. It almost reached the floor, but was tattered and torn, and held together by a small black skull clasp on the front, and had a perfectly intact hood that was not in use at the moment. The being had this ancient feel to them, one that came, not from centuries, but millennia of existence.

"Depends on what you want to call me. I go by many names, but I think the one that most prefer to call me is 'Death'."

theimmortaldeath started following you.

Why, who may you be?

Apparently someone wanted to draw me. I thought she did a good job, so... I figured I'd put it up here.Yes, I KNOW my cloak's in rough shape, but I'm not getting rid of or replacing it. Just letting those of you who care about that sort of thing know. (Thank you to the ask-the-vantas-family mun for drawing this for me! She can also be found on deviantART here and here.)

... I'm so sorry...