#my immortal fic

[radicalreliablerandomness]

Poll:

I am super interested to know how many people on this site actually know about My Immortal and have read it cause i dont see many people talk about it anymore

[grayewalss]

so, brazil

carnaval and shit

my school requested us to go in costumes today with the possibility of getting extra points in the final grade

Me, I decided to dress really goth-y and dark and stuff and my brain is just

Goin

On a fucking loop

Ebony Dementia Dark'ness Raven Way

and there is no one with whom i could share this irl because ya know, brazil

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Non transmitigation au where Shen Yuan auditions for a part in PIDW on a lark when it gets a live action adaptation, not thinking he’ll actually get a part (he just wanted to be able to say he did it okay? He was dated okay??! He was not dared he just thought it’d be neat, but he’ll admit to nothing.) and, much to his horror, ends up cast as Shen Qingqiu.

He somehow accidentally makes Shen Qingqiu so likable that he’s the most popular character. The fandom goes feral over him. He becomes famous. New fans are joining the bandwagon in droves to watch him.

And all the while, Shen Yuan is frantically trying to pretend he isn’t the most notorious anti fan troll to clown on the internet. He has never heard of PIDW before what do you mean Peerless Cucumber whomst?

[kulai]

DAY 1: First Kiss for Wenclairtober :3

check this out on twt ! this is based on ch12 (i think?) of "The Dead and the Dancing" on ao3. A HEAVY recommended for sure

[ghostbsuter]

Honestly, when bart came back to the past for his mission, he didn't expect to see one of his friends he left behind.

So excuse him for standing still and gaping like an idiot at the clearly looking teenager on his phone.

"Danny?!"

At the call, the stranger– his bestie— looked up.

"Bart!"

It is his friend.

The same black haired, too blue eyed teen with baby fat clinging to his cheeks, the same way his hair appears white and eyes green when unfocused and not paying attention.

Holy shit.

"How are you in the 21st century?!?!"

The boy merely blinks, looks down on his phone, and then looks up again.

"I should be asking you that! How are you here??"

"Timetravel duh! What's your excuse?!"

"I'm immortal???"

(It's similar to the spiderman meme, truly.)

(Bart is slightly glad none of his teammates or mentor or family members are here.)

—

It became somewhat of a game for them.

Everytime the speedster appeared in a different year, hell even universe for the kicks, the first thing he does is search for Danny.

(The teen is there, each time.)

And every time he succeeded, Danny helps him with the problem, or slightly nudges him to the path really.

(Each time bart worries less for the time stream and disturbances, his friend seems to be outside of it to truly bring harm.)

(And if he meets Clockwork along the way, that's a secret between them. And the part where he gets hired for the similar stuff danny gets sent to the past.)

(For them it's a casual Wednesday. So what if they just saved an entire planet? Its nothing big!)

—

Bart should have thought more over the decision to help the literal being of time itself.

Considering he is currently seated on a chair, Barry, Wally and dozen of other heroes (including his team standing behind him in an effort to show their support.) With demands of an explanation.

Damn it danny, why did you let those in the 13th century paint a portrait of them!!!

And the apparent ancient Egyptian art of them too?? In a museum??

What the hell danny!!! Way to throw him under the bus!!

[ollyrewind]

The stars tell us of a great king. They rise, the pole star will ascend the heavens with the constellations of the king's namesake upon the higher cycles of the Earth, foretelling his rise and the golden age that he will bring. His age will go on and on and reach its peak in the far future when the pole star comes to occupy the truest central position in the heavens.

Like Every Tree Stands on Its Own by wonderful @mightybog

[captainfairygodmother]

You know what I really love that should be explored in even more Merlin fanfics?

Immortal Leon. Like, you've just got Merlin over there sulking about while he waits for Arthur to return. Then there's just Leon, living his best immortal life, doing the most randomest shit known to mankind

[escespace]

Leon: Ok. What's going on?

Merlin: What do you mean?

Leon: What's the matter? What's wrong with you?

Merlin: Listen, I know myself so you have to be a little more specific if you want a short answer.

[knightinink]

“There will come a day where I won’t be here anymore, but for now, I’m right here, Oz. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, I promise.”

Ozzie has a nightmare of Fizz dying (& he's even more afraid of it because he knows it's gonna happen one day).

Based on a little headcanon that Oz can change his forms based on emotion, & when he’s extremely scared or sad, he morphs into this tiny flickering flame.

In this form is Asmodeus at his most vulnerable.

[negotiumcrucis]

Yusuf closes the door with a heavy sigh.

The kitchen is dark and quiet, and the stove is cold to the touch. He puts down the parcels he carried all the way from the market, lights the oil lamp and hangs it over the worktable. He does not venture into the adjacent room. There’s no need for that. He knows Nicolò is not home, and he buries the uneasiness it all entails deep inside his chest.

It would not be the first time Yusuf had to dine alone since the winds had turned too strong and too cold, forcing many galleys to stay in port. The taverns are packed full and so is La Sacra Infermeria, where Nicolò has built quite a reputation for himself in the past months. Still, it is Christmas Eve and when Yusuf woke up in the morning, he found a note in Nicolò’s handwriting asking him to bring home meat – rabbit, if he could not find rooster. He could not.

Joe needed to add some finishing touches in the Oratory to get the Conventual Church ready for midnight mass and it was the thought of Nicolò’s cooking that had kept Yusuf company as he worked all day long. The focus demanded by the job made it a bit easier for Yusuf to refuse the food offered by the brothers, though he did not manage to dissuade his fellow workers from shoving a cup of wine in his hands at the end of the day. It was light Sicilian wine, very cheap, sour, sold from the cask, and it had upset Yusuf’s empty stomach as he gulped it all down.

He thought he would feel guilty about downing the wine after, but he did not. The Ramadan had started two weeks before, but the truth was, he had not fasted every single day thence, nor did he sneak out to pray five times a day with the Muslim slaves out in the harbour, but he did watch them bowing towards Mecca as he walked home at the sunset. Nicolò never asked, never judged. His heart understood Yusuf as Yusuf sometimes did not understand himself.

Yusuf lights the logs inside the stove and coaxes the flames into life. He washes his hands and his face, shivering at the contact of the icy water against his naked jaw. Not for the first time, Yusuf wonders if it was truly necessary to shave off his beard. Its absence did not bother him that much during the summer months, but since the weather became wet and chilly, he dearly misses that extra layer of protection.

Nicolò has mourned the loss of Yusuf’s beard since the very start. He made no attempt to disguise his resentment, but in the end, they both agreed it would be easier for Yusuf to pose as an artist from Messina if he did not have a beard. Yusuf could easily replicate a proper Sicilian accent and of course, he knew every single Christian prayer in the world.

He called himself Joseph then. Sometimes, when the brothers were out of earshot, one of his less pious co-workers would jest that, while Yusuf was busy painting fluffy wings, an angel was probably paying his Virgin Mary a visit. It was easy to laugh at the blasphemous joke, and it made all the hard work a tad lighter. Yusuf took everything in stride, yet he could not help thinking about Nicolò, who was definitely far from a virgin – though sometimes he could blush like one, especially the times Yusuf kissed and licked him between his legs, his coarse stubble turning Nicolò’s pale skin red.

The thought of Nicolò naked and squirming under him brings some heat to Yusuf’s lower belly, but it’s not enough to chase away the cold from his bones. That coldness, Yusuf knows, has less to do with the weather and more with the emptiness in his soul, something that only grew since Quỳnh was taken. They did not have time to deal with that emptiness for decades when they searched for her in every port, from the North Sea to the coast of Africa and around the Mediterranean.

They would have continued searching for her forever if it had not been for Andromache, who sneaked out one night, leaving behind nothing but a note telling them she had to do this alone for a while. Nicolò wanted to follow their remaining sister no matter what and followed her they did. They were two steps behind Andromache for almost three years until they ended up stranded in Melita during a storm.

The islands have been under the Knights Hospitaller’s rule for half a century then, teeming with people from all over the Mediterranean. Yusuf reasoned that if there was a sailor left alive who knew anything about a witch locked in an iron coffin and thrown into the sea, they would eventually sail their way into the Grand Harbour. So far, none did, but they have lost Andromache’s track, so they decided to keep themselves busy, nursing the wounds in their hearts as they tried to do some good.

Yusuf had grown used to going without his daily prayers during their search. They were in constant move, and every new lead that led them nowhere chipped off a piece of his faith. He promised himself he would do better when they found Quỳnh, and it felt like a bargain he had little to offer in return. Then when became if and eventually, his despair festered into a wound that he felt bleeding under his skin.

More than once, Yusuf woke up feeling as if he was drowning in that very blood, with the taste of salt and rust on his tongue where he had sunk his teeth into. And maybe, if he could multiply that feeling by a thousand, maybe he would be able to grasp a fraction of what Quỳnh was feeling. More than once, Yusuf found himself praying, but it felt hollow – as if no one was listening. Eventually, Yusuf stopped, and at night he buried his face into Nicolò’s neck, weeping in silence as he realised maybe he should pray for his sister to die instead.

If it was Nicolò in her place, what would Yusuf do? How would he even live?

A shiver runs through his body as those thoughts run amok, and Yusuf stokes the flames in the stove with more force than necessary. Nicolò is on his way. Nicolò is coming home. He left a note in the morning, they made plans to spend the night together. No one has found out about them, no one has overheard them making love in the dead of the night, no one has seen either of them heal too fast from a too-deep cut. No one is coming for them. They will be fine.

Yusuf closes his eyes for a moment, calming his heart. He takes a deep breath and picks up a knife to cut the rabbit meat into smaller pieces. He does the same with carrots, onions, and garlic.

The work in the kitchen distracts him from his daunting thoughts, from his fear. In a way, it’s similar to painting. Once you get the sketch done and it’s only a matter of covering layers, you need to focus on your task, your mind does not get to wander too far, otherwise, your work will be ruined. So Yusuf focuses on the menial tasks at hand and he does not think about Nicolò and his whereabouts. He cooks and he waits.

The stew is bubbling by the time Yusuf overhears the door open behind him. He stirs the pot over the stove once before turning to look at his heart. Nicolò’s face is pink from the cold, and he smiles brightly when their eyes meet. Nicolò only takes the time to remove his shoes before he eagerly bridges the space between them, pressing their foreheads together. As Yusuf feels their breathing mingle, he thinks, there is nothing more sacred than this.

“My heart,” Yusuf whispers, kissing Nicolò’s cheek and then his lips. He tastes the cold wind in them, and he wonders if Nicolò can taste the sourness of the wine in his. “You had me worried.”

Nicolò’s eyes soften, and he kisses Yusuf back with intent, before hoovering over his shoulder to inspect the stew. There’s a pained look on his face and Yusuf knows he’s feeling guilty.

“It’s no matter,” Yusuf says sincerely. “It’s not often I get to make you Christmas dinner.”

Keep reading

A little old something I wrote for the holidays <3

[driftingvoid-155]

Crack au where Mike and Jeremy met online bc they both are the only immortal and the restless fanfic writers. Jeremy goes on hiatus and Mike gets a little concerned but he’s just ‘hope that other fic writer’s doing okay. Oh my dad’s restaurant is getting sued. Anyways, here’s the next chapter’ and then cut to like a month later Jeremy being back and ‘sorry for the delay. I got bit by an animatronic at this shitty children’s restaurant. Anyways heres the next chapter!’ Cue Michael’s ‘that was you?!!!’ leading to a back and forth in the comments of them realizing who the other is and least to say all their readers are now hooked on this new drama

[justaz]

leon lets merlin mourn for five centuries before picking him up by the scruff of his neck and dragging him with him to all corners of the world until he sees the familiar spark of life in his eyes. by then tho, merlin has latched onto leon like a damn octopus and they stick together for years (bar the occasional decade or two when the two cant decide on their next destination and fuck off to separate corners of the world). leon teaches merlin how to be immortal and merlin teaches leon how to properly live. they do the pranks that last centuries where they get portraits of themselves done in various eras without changing their appearances and only slightly altering their names, they know eventually someone will catch on and try to convince everyone but no one will believe them. they meddle in foreign governments for the fuck of it. leon somehow ends up as president of the us of a. merlin starts a cult in south america. merlin was on the oceangate submersible (too soon?). leon started the great fire of london (too soon??). anyways they happen to be walking together past the lake when arthur emerges. the first thing they do is take a 0.5x photo of him.

[chronosdawn]

I don't think Zhongli needs to sleep much, if at all really, but I do think once he gets into a serious relationship with you, he ends up adopting your usual bedtime (or enforcing an earlier one if you're the type to stay up late with the justification that you do need adequate rest). Even so, while you sleep peacefully, he spends most of the night awake, savouring the sensation of you being curled into his chest, the way he can feel the faint but steady beat of your heart from where you're pressed against him. Over the many, many years he's lived, he's found a number of ways to pass the time while the world around him slumbers, but this, lying together in the dark with you, might be his favourite.

[armandofnowhere]

IWTV HEADCANON: Arun’s journey from Delhi to Venice

Captured in DELHI, shackled on a ship across the YAMUNA RIVER, forced to march through the HINDU KUSH, sold in the slave markets of BUKHARA and CAFFA, and utimately brought to his final destination in VENICE.

↳ Based on Warily He Repeated, an upcoming fic by composission

[plusvanity]

In 1989, I placed a bet and lied Losing all that I had At least with all my heart intact

[snaileer]

Behold!🤲🏼

The wildest fic I have ever come across.