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#immortals am i right

time-woods · 6 months

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Doodle request: I found a hc that Scarab had wings that were removed for fucking up his job somehow and that's part of why he's Like That. What's your take on this hc?

i like to think that he got into a scuffle with some other cosmic entity in the past and in the fight his wing got torn, but cause of that he started wearing the suit exoskeleton thing he does now to prevent it from happening again

in my head hes got 2 exoskeletons- the suit is a false one thats tougher than his true one underneath

i feel like prior to that happening he used to wear more actual clothes but alas being an immortal creature doesnt mean you cant still get hurt

#asks #loose stuff like nightgowns are his preferred choice when relaxing cause his wings can properly breath #also because it was another immortal entity the damage was permanent and he couldnt just shapeshift it better or smthin #i made a whole ref sheet for his exoskeleton that ill post soon #(YES THIS IS WHAT TH DISCORD SCREENSHOT WAS ABOUT ! !))#anyways yea scarab am i right #scarab the god auditor #adventure time #fionna and cake

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aroaceleovaldez · 7 months

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once again thinking about the worldbuilding in the riordanverse of "names are power" / "belief is power."

The Tri were only able to become immortal through convincing enough people to worship them that it became true. Monsters and immortals only exist through continued belief, and if enough people believe that they're dead or gone then it becomes true, like Pan. Their varied forms exist and manifest as they're believed in and called upon. Names call attention and epithets summon aspects. They're acknowledgement. Belief. Putting a name to a concept creates it as an individual.

And that's so fascinating when you start applying it to demigods. How much of their abilities are based on belief in themselves, in expectations of each other, in their parents' expectations of them? We've seen mortal figures who became immortal in some form or another because they were remembered. Even the lares - ancestral house gods, who persist because they're remembered. They have a legacy.

At what point does a demigod achieve that status? Rumors and whispers about them so persistent that they slowly become true. "I heard that Jason Grace is the son of two gods, does that make him a god?" "I heard Percy Jackson defeated a titan single-handedly. That he can create hurricanes without breaking a sweat. That he can control blood." After awhile, after enough rumors, does it become impossible to tell where they end and the legends begin? Isn't that what being a demigod is; half-legend?

#pjo #riordanverse #analysis #i went a little prose-y there at the end but i am THINKING THOUGHTS #imagine being a demigod and knowing your EXISTENCE is slowing becoming warped because of others' perceptions of you!#Jason living on a pedestal his entire life and worrying so much that one day he's going to bleed ichor and his fate will be sealed #Percy recognizing that his powers are growing beyond his previous limits in ways that don't seem natural. don't seem right.#and he realizes what's happening and just has to hope the whispering quiets down and the rumors are forgotten so he can live a normal life #also the potential for demigod existential horror #becoming aware that You as a concept is slowly shifting. twisting. to match the perception others have of you #how TERRIFYING is that? like obviously it'd probably only go to an extent for most demigods cause half-mortal #but their powers? etc? SCARY #Percy being aware that his powers are becoming warped and trying to dissuade gossip about himself so it returns to normal #Nico who the more he's welcomed into the camps the more he finds himself being essentially declawed #his rough edges slowly worn away. his powers weakening and becoming less frightening. is it worth it?#and how difficult must that inherently make it for him to allow himself to be known?#and again. shaking Jason petrified that CJ is going to accidentally believe him into immortality. his worst nightmare.

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xstick-noodlesx · 1 year

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Louis, mon cœur. Louis, regarde. I have found a young fille et she appears to be a vampire like we are... And she visits une école magique... She has ebony black hair which is how she got her name... C’est très adorable, non? She has icy blue eyes like limpid tears comme mes yeux! Elle s’appelle Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way... Je pense que cette name is very beautiful, don’t you agree? She is a vampire fille, too... She could be a friend pour Claudia! Louis? Louis! Why are you leaving?

#I am so sorry #vampire chronicles #my immortal #Interview with the Vampire #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #lestatposting #i love this tag it had be wheezing tbh #still don't know if I'm doing this meme right haha #my post #original post #i am legit toeing the line with the french here #because i know some french and i took it for like 6 years in school #and you gotta have some french in these posts to be LESTAT core but you can't have TOO much #and i am so conflicted if comme mes yeux und je pense que c'est is already too much!!

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hayaku14 · 2 years

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kaishin au where kaito unwillingly received immortality from pandora. kaito is torn and broken upon the burden of eternal life. shinichi promises to stay with him forever. to do so, he drinks aptx 4869 every 10 years.

years go by and soon everyone in their life passes. kaito and shinichi learned how to create the poison from haibara before she left the world as well. but though it works in consistently turning back time for shinichi, it is still a deadly poison. accumulated, it slowly weakens him.

as shinichi's body slowly deteriorates, the poison chipping away at his life, kaito spirals. once again, torn and broken, kaito is desperate. feeling this to be their last years together, he decides to find a way to stay with shinichi forever.

a way to reverse his immortality.

a way to die together.

#kaishin #dcmk #detective conan #kudou shinichi #kuroba kaito #dc prattles #dont look at me idk why but this angst came out of fucking nowhere too #this came into my brain and i had to vomit it all here or else it'll plague my mind and die there #i actually wrote that they have half a century left but ig it's better to leave it vague #i think at one point they would have to fake their deaths #but shinichi's body couldnt possibly handle changing back and forth if he's past his 50s right?#what im trying to say is that make this au extra angsty by making them fake their deaths in their late 20s or early 30s #this is haibara's advice as someone who knows shinichi's biology the most and how the poison works #they could probably tell their close friends and family though (making it less angsty cause i remembered i am GODS WEAKEST SOLDIER)#lowkey shinichi at the point where kaito decides to look for a way to immortality is already either bed ridden #on a wheelchair #or at least cant run anymore and is easily tired #(THIS AU IS JUST AN ELABORATE SICK FIC AND MY ADDICTION TO TIRED SHINICHI SHOWING)#changed aptx 4689 to 4869! im sorry i wrote this at 2 am lmao

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i-am-cesear · 9 months

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I TOLD YOU HE WAS IMMORTAL OH MY GOD MY HEADCANON IS CANON???????

LOOK AT HIM HE IS JUST SOO BEAUTIFUL AND PERFECT AND I LOVE HIM SOOO MUCH!!!!!!

#toilet bound hanako kun #hyuuga natsuhiko #i knew i was right #i am crying so hard right now #i asked “is he immortal??”#and she said “yes”#best day of my life #look at him #he is just so beautiful #i just can't

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quibbs126 · 4 months

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I feel like maybe in CRK the Witches are a bit too removed from the world and lore of the game. That’s not to say they’re completely absent, we know they’re worshipped as the Cookies’ creator, not to mention there’s a whole religion/cult (I’m not sure how much of it is one or the other) surrounding them, as well as the Common trio having met and escaped from a Witch, it’s just that the Cookies’ creation, as well as their initial interactions and relationship to the Witches feels so far removed from the current day setting

Like, maybe they could have had it so that the Ancient Heroes were from the time of the Witches? Like they have in fact interacted with Witches beforehand and were baked at a time when they were still a very looming presence and threat?

I mean sure you’d have to change a lot about White Lily’s/Dark Enchantress’ backstory and motivation, considering that in this scenario all the Ancients know what the deal is with the Witches and why they were baked, but still, maybe it would have been better?

Well maybe not better, I’m no game writer, but at least adhered more to how the series started with Cookies escaping from the Witch and her oven by having important characters who in this universe lived through that time period?

#I’m not sure if I’m making sense here #but it’s just that I noticed that the Ancients who are our oldest Cookies save the Legendaries and Dragons #are themselves too young to have been around during the beginning of the Cookie civilization #I don’t necessarily have proof of this but I reckon they’re probably from around the middle of Cookie history #which isn’t bad but when you have immortal characters who aren’t gods and are central to the world’s history #it would make sense to have them be around for an important part of that history right?#maybe not from the very beginning of history they don’t ave to be that important #but old enough to have lived through a major shift in their history with the absence of the Witches in their lives #like that makes sense right?#am I making sense? I don’t know #just thoughts I have #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #ancient cookies #random stuff

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toyybox · 7 months

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Spiderwebs #13: Tape VI (Sugar-Coat)

Masterlist

content: lab whump, captivity, immortal whumpee, death wish

Jackie awoke to silence.

He realized that the lights were out. He didn’t turn the lights off last night—forgot to, honestly. Heather must have checked up on him at some point, but she had left without saying a word. That meant there was no new experiment. Yet.

He didn't like the thought of her watching him sleep. He hoped—no, he wasn’t—well—

Better not to think about it. He was being paranoid. Old habit, paranoia, one that had protected him back then but was useless now. A burden that served only to haunt him. After all, what reason would she have to try anything? Why would she?

He felt sick at that thought. There was no other way to describe that emotion—he didn’t want another way to describe it. Better not to think about it. Don’t think, don’t even imagine. What happened to that? Jackie had gotten so good at not thinking about it. Why did he have to slip up now?

The trick was to distract yourself. Jackie got up out of bed, untangling himself from the covers. He turned the lights on. The items he requested were still on the nightstand. Oliver Twist sounded boring. He could read later. What Jackie wanted was the notebook and pen.

He sat back on the bed and took the pen, clicked it open. He took the notebook and spread it to the first page. A blank page, what a wonderful thing. He hadn’t drawn anything since coming to Heather’s house. Make no mistake—he wasn’t an artist by any means. Still, he liked to draw, the way a puppy liked to chase its tail. It was pointless, but fun. It occupied his hands and his thoughts better than anything else.

The pen wrote smoothly, despite being a cheap thing of plastic. The ink came out thick and deep black. He scratched in a few lines before the door opened.

“Sleep well?”

Heather wasn’t holding a scalpel, which was nice. She instead held a piece of paper and the tape recorder. That all-knowing, eternally waiting thing. The only other witness. She also had a book bag slung around her shoulder.

“Slept great.” Jackie placed the book and pen into a nightstand drawer.

“Don’t put the pen away.” The tape recorder clicked to life, an action that was starting to irritate Jackie. “We’re doing something more relaxed today. I thought I should give you a break. And we’ve already covered the basics.”

“Sure.” Jackie took the pen out of the drawer.

“Right, so… you can sit there.” She pointed to the writing desk. “Take the paper and write something.”

He took the sheet of paper. “What should I write?”

“Whatever you want. Nothing inappropriate, of course.”

Jackie did as she asked and sat down to write. He was still too fuzzy from sleep to think of something clever, so he stuck to the basics—the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

Heather watched over his shoulder. “Subject has not lost their fine motor skills, despite their severe injuries. You have nice handwriting, by the way.”

“Thank you.” He put the pen down. “Was that it?”

“I need you to answer a few questions first. How is your pain now? Using the scale of ten, again.”

“One or two.”

“How have the scars healed? Are they still there?”

“They’re still there. Healed fine.”

“I see.” She then brought a thick journal and a much nicer fountain pen out from the book bag. “Now, I never got an answer to those questions. Age, family, and birthplace, please.”

“Why does it matter?” Jackie didn’t want to answer. Where were those fighting words he wielded only weeks ago? Answering honestly felt like giving up.

Heather didn’t register this comment as rude or snarky, although it was his intention. “It’s good to have that information later on, for my studies. In case I ever need it.”

“Let me guess. If I don’t answer, you’ll torture me?”

She looked up from her journal with an amused, yet puzzled, expression. “It’s only three questions.”

“Will you, though?”

“Torture is a strong word.” She tapped her pen against the journal. “I can take away your privileges. Would you rather sleep on the concrete?”

Jackie almost said yes, asshole, I’d rather sleep on the floor than be your lab rat, but that wasn’t a good idea. He needed to gain her trust. He needed to be patient.

“Why didn’t you say so?” he replied, forcing the enthusiasm into his voice. “I’m Jackie Rockwell, age twenty-one. I don’t remember my family’s names. I was born in Washington. I’ve lived here my whole life.”

Heather scribbled something down in the journal. “What do you mean, you don’t remember their names? Do you have memory issues?”

Absolutely not. He was not discussing this, not with her. “No, my memory’s fine. It’s a long story. We don’t talk anymore. Most of them are dead, anyway.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” She looked more relieved than anything—probably happy that nobody would notice him gone, that sick freak—but she didn’t push the topic, at least. “Let's move on to the next question. Before all this, were you aware of your immortality? Or any sort of advanced… I don’t know, healing?”

“Not the immortality,” he said. “I guess I’ve healed pretty quickly my whole life. Never had any health issues. Never gotten sick before. I’ve got a good immune system.”

This all must have been fascinating, because Heather was writing like there was no tomorrow. “Never gotten sick? At all?”

“Yep, pretty much.” His usage of the term was strictly metaphorical.

“How curious.” She scratched a final sentence into her journal. “You don’t know why you’re immortal, I assume?”

Jackie nodded.

“That’s fine. We’ll find out eventually.”

Not if I can help it. “Are there any more questions?”

“No.” Heather opened the book bag up and stuffed her journal back inside. “What do you want for breakfast, by the way? I can make eggs again. I have cereal. If you want something specific, I can go buy it.”

“Cereal is fine, thanks.”

Heather nodded and hurried up the stairs. The door opened, then it closed. He waited in silence.

She returned with a bowl of milk and cereal, which he recognized as cornflakes. The spoon stuck out the top. The ceramic was cool in his hands.

Heather didn’t move. The tape recorder was still running.

“I’ll eat this now, then,” Jackie said.

“Yes. Go ahead.”

He took a spoonful and put it in his mouth. Heather didn’t make any move to leave.

“Are you going to watch me the whole time?” He set the spoon back into the bowl with a tautness in his movements. It clattered against the smooth surface.

“Yes, that’s the plan.”

“The plan.” He placed the bowl onto the writing desk. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

She took the bowl and shoved it into his hands again. “You need to eat.”

“No.” He handed the bowl back to her.

“Jackie.”

“What?” he snapped. “I’m sorry I don’t want to be drugged again. I’m not hungry. Leave me alone.”

“That was one time. Did I drug your breakfast yesterday? Or the day before that? Or the day before that, even?” She took his hand and placed it on the spoon. “There’s no sedatives in this. Trust me.”

Trust. Like they were friends. Like he could afford to have trust. Unfortunately, it was eating the damned cereal or getting shoved into a freezer. Either way, she had a point. Nothing else he ate had been drugged, not since that fateful first escape attempt.

But he wasn’t giving in that easily. "Do you have to stand there while I eat?"

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

His grasp on the spoon was deadly. He considered chucking it at her head. Considered being the key word, because he was certain that freezers were much more uncomfortable than basements. "The problem is that it's creepy."

"Oh, calm down." She rolled her eyes. "You’ll be fine. Just eat."

It was a struggle not to throw the spoon now, but he managed. Instead of using it as a projectile weapon, he began to eat the cereal. It wasn’t particularly delicious. Kind of bland. Still, he hadn’t eaten anything else that morning, so he didn’t dislike it. All the while, Heather stared at him with growing curiosity.

Halfway through, he stopped. "What’s your problem?"

She shook her head a little. "Nothing. It's nothing. Carry on."

He continued, but not before giving her another scathing glare. He ate the cereal without any further problems. Other than whatever was going on with his captor, of course. She was looking at him like he was sprouting daisies from his mouth. Had he done something wrong? Maybe she was losing her grip on reality—it wouldn’t surprise him, to be honest.

She checked her watch. It, too, was expensive, the face inlaid with what looked like real diamonds, the strap woven of solid gold. A small smile shadowed her face.

"What's happening?" He leaned forward a bit, trying to catch a glimpse of the time. Eleven o'clock. That number was meaningless to him.

"Nothing. Nothing's happening. That's what's so interesting." She tried to stifle that smile by biting her lip, though it still managed to crack through. "Subject—"

"What do you mean, subject?' He leaned back, his posture sharply upright. "I thought the experiments were over."

Now she was—she was having a seizure? Choking to death? No, she was laughing. Laughing. Because he ate a bowl of cereal. It was quiet, muffled through her attempts at keeping a straight face, but nonetheless audible.

"Subject—" She took a deep breath, and her voice returned to normal pitch. "Subject can survive lethal doses of poison. Enough dosage to kill ten people, ap—apparently." Another fit of giggles. "It's—oh my God, I'm sorry, I just—"

"Heather!" He scowled as she grinned even harder. His voice took on a flustered, awkward pitch. "You said this wasn't drugged! Hey! Stop laughing at me!"

"I'm not—I'm not laughing at you—" She covered her face with one hand. The laughter ceased, unsteadily, the way ocean waves gradually crashed into gentler and gentler motions, cut through with brief fits of coughing. "I wasn’t—I didn't lie, did I? There weren't any sedatives. It was just arsenic."

"Arsenic?"

"Just a little bit!"

"Enough to kill ten people?"

"Don't sound so offended." Her hand dropped to her side. She was still smiling. "You're fine, aren't you? You're perfectly fine. God, Jackie, you really are a miracle."

He didn't know how to reply. He could see the comedy in the situation, yes, but his bewilderment at her sudden amusement and his ire won over. Why ire, he wondered, when he expected some sort of betrayal? Maybe a part of him wanted to be proven wrong. Maybe he wanted to finally trust, finally let his guard down, ridiculous as that was. Maybe he just didn't like being laughed at for not dying.

"Well, then, I suppose I can cross poison off the list. Experiment concludes here." She took the recorder and turned it off. Her face was a little flushed. From laughter, most likely, or maybe even embarrassment. Giggling was unprofessional, as Heather would put it. Doctor Moreau probably never giggled. Especially not at his Hyena-Swine. She swallowed, setting her face back into neutral. Then, she stood straighter, cleared her throat, and took the empty bowl from his hands.

"Where did you even get enough arsenic to kill ten people?" Jackie asked, ending the lingering break in conversation.

"I have my ways." Her head tilted a little at his expression. "Come on, I needed to test it somehow. Would you rather I force feed you arsenic?"

"I don't care. It’s not like I get a choice, anyway."

He wanted the words to scrape her, cut deep into that guilt he'd seen before. It didn't work. She got up and walked away instead.

"I'm glad to see you're catching on." Heather placed her hand on the door handle. "I'll be back in a few days. Yell if you need anything."

"You better not forget my lunch.”

"I'll set an alarm, don't worry." She waved his concerns away with her other hand. "I'll bring your dinner as well. Or supper."

“You’ll bring me dinner? Or supper? Bless your heart. What did I do to deserve such mercy?” He stood up with an affronted stiffness. “Honestly, this sounds like a lot of trouble for nothing. You wouldn’t even need to set any alarms if you just—“

“Spare me your escape plans.” She slipped through the doorway. “Don’t break any furniture, by the way. I’m not replacing that bed.”

“Oh, yeah? Well—“ Heather was gone before he could finish that clever retort.

The lock clicked into place. A strange, echoing feeling struck a chord in his chest. He wanted to be left alone, yes, but not alone in the basement. Not in the eternal stillness of what was really a sugar-coated cell, stagnant and stuck in place until she decided to visit him again. He walked up to the door, hesitating all the while, listening to the sound of her retreating footsteps with bated breath.

“Heather!” He knocked on the door, at last. “I need something. Get back here.”

No response, even as he repeated his call once more, then twice more, then a reluctant third time. His captor had failed to realize that it was difficult to hear anything behind a locked door, unless you were close by. Heather must have already reached another floor by then. She, unlike him, was free to move, free to leave, free to indulge whatever whim struck her.

Otherwise, she had heard him clearly, and had simply chosen to ignore him. It wasn’t hard to believe.

Jackie turned back to his room—not his room, just the room he was locked in, Jackie reminded himself—as the feeling rose in pitch, plucking every taut sinew in his body. He could draw, or he could read, or he could scream into a pillow. He could think about things, talk to himself. He could break every single piece of furniture in there, just because. He could let the tap run until the whole place was flooded. He could throw his comb at the walls until it snapped. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to do any of those things. He didn’t want to do anything at all.

What did he want? To die, of course, but other than that? Sleep was the closest thing. It was good enough. A few hours of forgetting. He could escape the concrete floors and blank walls, if only until he woke up, if only in his dreams.

He collapsed into bed with a small groan. All things considered, it had been a good day, but it had exhausted him nonetheless. A break from reality would be more than welcome.

happy Friday the 13th! :)

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl

@lthrboy

#whump #whump writing #my writing #Spiderwebs toyybox #lab whump #immortal whumpee #nothing's scarier than bland cereal am I right #it's better if you add fruits and such #plain Kellogg's is horrendous #spider #tw spider #new halloween banners yay!!

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angels-and-aliens · 1 year

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TOG BIG BANG 2022

I am so honored to have been able to make art for @pinkninjapj for this year’s @oldguardbigbang!

She is the author of one of my absolute favorite fics and I couldn’t believe it when we were paired together. The cherry on top is that this mandalorian fusion is the perfect combo of two of my favorite things! I only hoped that I would be able to do her writing even just a shred of justice.

Please check out her amazing fic!!

Summary: Joe and Nicky never got together back on Earth, and instead had a terse and somewhat playfully antagonistic relationship. Now they're in an entirely different galaxy, and Joe has sworn the Mandalorian Creed and kept his face covered for lifetimes. But when he picks up a strange green Child and swears to return him to his kind, who does he find but Nicky of kriffing Genova, training Jedi children in the Force. Meanwhile, Nicky is falling hard for the mysterious stoic warrior with a kid in tow. Who wouldn't? Does it count as a slow burn if you come in at the end of four thousands of years of enemies to frenemies?

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the-crow-binary · 5 months

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Hi! In scenarios where Dracula gets together with Isaac and/or Hector, what would Death's reaction be? This is just my Deathula self wanting to see that (つω⊂* )

Oh Death <3 Dracula's first, eternal simp <3 His forever husband <3 I bet seeing him get with Lisa was already hard enough, but then with his general(s)?? When he's right here?? :< Rude. :< It's not Hector nor Isaac who betrayed their old Lord to give him his soul :< It's not them who've been by his side for 400 years and protected him and nourrished him and guided him and helped him become who he is today :< What the hell? :<

He wouldn't say anything, of course, but Dracula starts to know him after living together for 400 years. It's obvious he is unhappy, even though all he wants is his master's satisfaction and happiness... and mouth and body and soul and love and

But even though, and he's the first surprised by that, he'd be a bit jealous... he also knows that Isaac and Hector are humans, and so, momentary :) They'll never develop the bond he already shares with Dracula, one that only immortal beings can understand. Dracula can have all the affairs he wants with mortal people, in the end, it doesn't matter, because he's always going to be The One. His only companion in eternity. Dracula always comes back to him no matter what, and Death is patient... a few decades are nothing in the face of eternity. <3