Immortal - Blog Posts

“It’s hurts because well always find each other.”

Immortal lesbian angst with me and my girlfriend’s Ocs, Sam and Jazz. This is actually the only story you’ll probably see more because I’m actually invested in this series writing with her.

I need The Sandman & Inception crossover (fanfic or fan art it doesn't matter) I just need it please

I just realized that Dreamling and Corvosider are practically the same ship......

They have so much in common

I mean there is this brooding entity that is bored out of his mind until he finds an interesting mortal who he first consideres nothing but a mere amusement, but after some time he realize he feels something more for this human (and let's not talk about how both Hob and Corvo are handsome, brown longhaired, strong and kind individuals)

And also that both Dream and Outsider are gothic drama bitches

An old forest

After defeating the big bad Villain the Hero and their Immortal lover settle down in a cottage away from civilization. There are vast fields as far as the eye can see and they enjoy their time together after many grueling battles and horrible betrayals. The Hero plants a tree from their home village to signify the memories that they will forever carry with them. Their lover just smiles.

When the Hero eventually dies after having lived a long and fulfilling life they ask the Immortal to take care of their shared home and to please live their life to the fullest. Wanting to honor their wish the Immortal lays them to rest beneath the now-fully-grown tree and retreats back into the home.

For a long time, they don't leave. Wrapped up in grief and busying themselves with menial tasks. However eventually, they meet new people. Travelers, Adventurers who seek their help, or maybe the barkeep from the nearest village.

Wishing to honor their lost partner's wish they allow themselves to fall in love again but plant a tree next to the old one for every new person they come to cherish. Whether it is familial, platonic, or romantic love, they get a little sapling that the Immortal cares for and cultivates to signify their memories. When this person eventually dies as well the Immortal carves their name into the tree and lays them to rest beneath it.

Thousands of years later, a small village has formed next to an ancient and dark forest. Children are not allowed to enter it and their parents tell horror stories about the monsters within.

A group of adventurous children however do not care to listen, and one afternoon they sneak away to explore.

What they find is not terrifying at all. Everything is lush and green, there is a little creek that leads into a pond they can go swimming in, and no monster is in sight. Only fish and a small rabbit that jumps away from them when they near.

They find flowers that one of them points out were thought extinct and see a being, not quite deer and not quite a rabbit but something in between. When one of them points out the beautiful wings of a butterfly another is quick to realize that that is no butterfly, but a fairy. The children get caught up in the magic and wonders of the forest but dare not go deeper to explore.

Eventually, the shadows stretch longer and the sun starts to vanish behind the trees. The Children find themselves unable to see the way back as if the path they made through the underbrush had been swallowed by the forest. It is when the bird stop chirping and the bushes start rustling for no apparent reason that they truly grow afraid.

Unable to keep going in fear of getting even more lost but unwilling to stay on the ground they decide to climb one of the old trees to try and settle on its sturdy branches. They succeed and with the unsettling sounds now deep below them some of the fear abides and after making a rotation of shifts they manage to sleep.

In the morning they are awoken by a scream.

One of their friends, the one who was on shift last because they wanted to watch the sunrise is pointing at the bark of their tree with an almost manic panic in their eyes. There, illuminated by the golden morning light is the name of one of their ancestors. A name they had seen on their family tree that their father likes to trace back proudly carved in so deeply that even over centuries it had stayed as a mark on the tree.

When they look around and across to other trees, they find more names, some family names familiar from the village, others completely unknown. Some are high above, difficult to reach even for their best climbers, others not exactly fresh but younger.

With the sunlight now shining through the branches and deep fear and confusion in their hearts the children quickly find their way back home to be greeted by their panicked parents. When they try and tell the adults about the names in the trees and the wonders of the day before they are admonished: "Don't go into the forest! That was the rule. Promise you will never go back."

Their pleas to investigate are ignored and the children learn not to share what they have seen.

And if one day, many years later the now adults return to the creek and follow it upstream they might find that the trees get older the deeper they go. And if they find a small cottage at the center of the forest, and a strange being living within they will never tell a soul.

Because as children they saw the wonders of this forest and learned not to speak of them, and the now adults learned of the memories the trees hold and saw in the eyes of the being that they are not something to be shared.

(Michael Jackson)

Prompt #29

Soulmate AU where the last words your soulmate says is written on your skin.

(Character A) doesn’t have any words. (Character B), their soulmate, is immortal.

A fire raging inside,

boils the liquid red in me,

vapours of which,

condense as tears in the eyes.

And you say I'm weak

when i cry.

You're naïve, you don't know.

The drops of greif are mortal,

but the tears burnt

are the Flames at rest,

pouring from the brink of heaven,

into hell.

They are power, they are anger,

they give the purpose

to the machine immortal

that rages to live on and on,

burning the rocks ,to ashes.

-mauli

ffxiv fnae au ... i think fushi'd be a padjal

i might do actual art

kahaku is a hyur/au ra, ekko is a miqote, i think bon is a lala for funsies. messar is veria, hairo is miqote, march and parona are elezen. i think gugu is a hyur but roe gugu is hilarious to me. tiny boy grow big.

only thoughts for now. i am too focused on another au

I was talking to my brother about some of my stuffed animals, and I realised that I unintentionally made them pretty diverse. So far we have

• a lesbian alpaca

• a pyromaniac nonbinary sheep with he/they pronouns

• a gay eldritch abomination disguised as a bear

• an aroace immortal sheep in a constant state of childhood innocence despite its previous canon lore of being known for manipulative tactics (all for good reasons)

• and the ally teddy bear

Kerric the Mercenary: Episode 7, Run to DeSon

Kerric and his Warcat took the lead. At the edge of DarkGate, he turned Akrus off the road and headed due west. The moment they made it to those dark woods, he said, “Run,” and all Akrus’s anger vanished. He was off as if shot from an arrow.

At home, north of the Black Sand, running was dangerous. There, except for hunting sprints, if he ran, it was in fear, and he was running for his life. It wasn’t until Kerric brought him south of the Black Sand that his war cat had a chance to run full out without fear. Now, only mating and hunting brought his Warcat more pleasure. It was a pleasure Akrus rarely got to indulge in and the perfect reward for being dragged out of his rest.

Like the larger breed of Warcats in the north, the ones his men rode were built for running for days despite that not being a good idea in the north. Except the Tolar, nothing in the south could escape them over the long run, and very few on the short. Only experts here would pick up that this wasn’t the breed you found in the far south in the forest bordering the frozen waste. Those were a patchwork brown, instead of dark brown with black stripes on their hind quarter, and only three-quarters the size of the Warcats Kerric’s men rode. Nor were they as fast or have the endurance of this northern breed.

Yet those southern beasts stilled killed more of their own riders than the northern ones did, making seeing a rider a very rare occurrence in the far south, and nearly legendary this far away from that icy waste. That was, until Kerric, and his band arrived.

Kerric shifted his weight. With a snort, Akrus stopped trying to outrun the others, but kept his pace high enough to make them work at keeping up. They might have longer legs, but Akrus had more muscle. That meant more speed in a run among Warcats.

They hit the edge of the gorge and Akrus leaped from the side to the branches of those massive trees. The others followed. Riding the treetops might be common in the jungles north of the Black Sand but was unheard of here. That shortcut across the gorge instead of around it, as all others had to travel, was why his men would get there before the sun came up, despite having to saddle them before riding out.

Akrus leaped to the next tree, and then the next. Even in the dark, Warcats never jumped to a branch that can’t whole their weight, though sometimes, they bend more than their riders anticipate. That bending and springing back is what the Warcats used to move forward with such speed. It took all the rider’s concentration to stay in those saddles and not one of them could have done so the way Kerric did, without the thigh straps. That springing motion was why in the trees, Warcats move only a little slower than their ground eating normal pace.

Kerric spared enough attention from his own ride to see all of his men having a harder time of it than they should. It was one more sign that they had lost too much of their edge. The gorge was deep and wide, but not so much so that those Warcats could not cross it in half the night.

With well over a candle mark before even the false dawn, his men were on the road to the main keep of DeSon, something that would have been a four-day trip by the road using caravan wagons.

Tantos came out of the woods as they moved closer to the keep. “I found Corman camped on a woodcutter’s track nearing the Aring-DarkGate Road. He’s taking his time and will hit that road early morning tomorrow. If he pushes it, he could make Aring by late night, but more likely is planning another night on the road.”

Kerric nodded and looked over the lands of his prospective employer.

Episode 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,

Random Concept

Immortals can’t have their minds read.This is because they’ve done everything so many times that everything they do and all their interactions are on autopilot, with little to no thought behind them.

╭─────────╮

Philza is cursed, and has been cursed for far too long.

The details are too blurry to remember, but it was old enough to be a myth long forgotten-- a mistake in a one-life world that itched into his blood and left him to wander eternally, looking for the grind and feeling of what might have been the thrill of expendable time. He walks with accumulating numbers of crows coming and going to keep him company with wings strapped to their black backs like he--they were born with it, he was not.

But not all of them always stay. They are smart, they are kind and close-knit, but they are not immortal. That is a consequence to him as well.

No one can stay forever, he learns. His blood will keep going down roads unfathomable, but not him. He knows his love, his goddess of death will watch them for him, but he?

He's cursed until he dies

And he still will be even after so.

╰─────────╯

Context: Philza's curse involves the following:

- Conditional immortality, one life, we all know this

- His curse is non-hereditary, he thinks

- If he dies and becomes Ghostza, his curse isn't done

- He won't enter hell or the afterlife. He will no longer be tangible after so, and

- Because he would be stuck outside of death and life, a different realm in the curse, (most of? not sure?) his crows and Kirstin will no longer be able to interact with him.

- Might make his curse involve the end!

PRE-IMMORTAL

Old Funeral is a death metal band formed in May 1988, located in Bergen. They were only 15 when Olve and Tore started a band(Only Padden was 18). They were one of the first bands to form in the Norwegian extreme metal scene.

Old Funeral lineup(1988) from left to right:

Tore Bratseth(Guitars), Padden(Drums), Olve Eikemo(Vocals, Bass)

With this lineup they recorded their first demo in 1989 titled «The Fart That Should Not Be»

Fun Fact: Their first rehearsal place was Tore’s father basement. They rehearsed there almost every day

That demo was recorded on a 4-track fostex tape machine in their rehearsal room. Tore handwrote the cover, but it was xeroxed and released in 50 copies. It was just their friends who got them, so it is a total underground tape.

Another Fun Fact: they had only played their instruments for 10 months when it was recorded.

In July 1990 they released another demo called «Abduction of Limbs». It was the first metal recording made in Grieghallen Studio in Bergen. Pytten(Eirik Hundvin) was the producer, who was an old classmate of Tore’s father. This was the first time they had been in a professional studio, it took some days to record and mix(6-7 days were spent in the studio altogether). 600 copies were released in cassette format.

Old Funeral(1990) from left to right:

Olve Eikemo(Bass, Vocals), Padden(Drums), Tore Bratseth(Guitars, Lyrics)

Kristian Vikernes joined Old Funeral in 1990, they played few gigs, and compose songs for the «Devoured Carcass» demo before Olve would leave band in order to form Immortal. The role of vocalist fell to Padden.

Old Funeral(Also 1990) from left to right:

Kristian Vikernes(Guitars), Olve Eikemo(Bass, Vocals), Padden(Drums), Tore Bratseth(Guitars)

Also in 1991 Thorlak came as a bass-guitarist

With this new line-up they recorded a demo «Devoured Carcass». They went to Grieghallen to record again, but not to do a demo, but a 7” vinyl EP. Thorlak does not play on this EP as he became a member too late to learn the songs, even though he is pictured on the cover. Both, Tore and Padden, did the bass lines for it. On June 17th 1991 these 7 vinyls have come to light

Fun Fact: They got that deal because of Thrash Records that approached them after listening to the demo. The reaction was very good and the 1100 copies sold out in 2 weeks only!

They played about 10 gigs with Kristian, there was even one gig in Notodden with both Kristian and Olve before he quit. It was just before Thorlak joined on bass.

That’s it for Old Funeral! And before we move to «Amputation» i’d like to show you some moments from interviews with Tore!

You told me that you went to school with Olve (Abbath) since you were 8 years old. How were these days? Were you the only children who were so crazy about MOTÖRHEAD, BLACK SABBATH, THE BEATLES? Did you use to fuck things up, or were you quite quiet boys?

«He-he, these days were quite wild. Especially Olve got quite a lot of bad remarks from the teacher in his books. I actually have a tape from 1984 when we are 11 years old from a history class and we take the total piss out of the teacher. He had to go and get the principal because we were making so much noise. Also on the same tape there is a part where me and Olve and another guy is singing ‘Shoot ‘Em Down’ by Twisted Sister. Fucking brutal shit he-he. No, you can’t have the tape. Some things are meant to stay very underground. Olve along with Padden were my best friends (and still are) from childhood years.»

Was Padden also in the same school than you and Olve? You told me that he bought «Hell Awaits» and «Morbid Tales» around 1986. How did you react when hearing such a music? What pushed you to dig it more, and later to get involved into tape trading?

«Padden was at the same school as us yes, but not in the same class, because he was 2 years older than us. He was the first one of my friends to buy extreme records. I remember me and Olve looked at each other when we listened to «Hell Awaits» for the first time. It was a feeling of aggression, laughter and awe. We just laughed for minutes because we didn’t think it was possible to make such brutal music. I remember this record was listened to by maybe 6-7 people in our little village called Lysekloster. We all thought that this was the music that fitted our personalities and we started to seek more information about this kind of music. Then Padden, who was the only one with some money, bought Celtic Frost «Morbid Tales» and Possessed «Seven Churches», then came «Reign In Blood» and it was no way back.»

When exactly did you start OLD FUNERAL? Did you play covers in the beginning or just tried to come along with your own stuff? Was it also the first band for Olve and Padden?

«We started on the 17th of May 1988 rehearsing in my parents basement. This is the constitution day of Norway. Old Funeral was the first band of all of us, and nobody had played any instrument before this date»

How strong was the influence of the new members on the way to compose songs for the «Devoured Carcass» demo?

«Varg was a very good musician, so he participated a lot in the songwriting. Thorlak was more the lazy guy, but he was good to have in the band as well...»

You can read full interview with Tore here – https://www.voicesfromthedarkside.de/interview/old-funeral/

I also highly you to read other interviews with him talking about Old funeral. Click here and here to read it!

Amputation is a death metal band formed in 1987-1988, located in Bergen and created by Harald Nævdal(Demonaz). At first the band went by Sacrecy, but it was changed to Amputation. They only released two demos before disbanding.

Fun Fact: Around that time(1987-1988) Harald met Olve!

Amputation’s original recording lineup consisted:

Harald Nævdal(Demonaz) – Guitars & Vocals

Truls Kvernhusvik – Guitars

Padden – Bass

Jørn Inge Tunsberg – Drums

«Achieve in Mutilation» demo tape self-released in 1989 in cassette format. Regular xeroxed covers. Ordinary tape. Tracks 2 and 3 are listed in the wrong order on the tape cover; track 2 is labeled as "Merciless Slaughter" and track 3 is labeled as "Death Is Not the End". Logo and cover art by Harald.

Kvernhusvik exited the band prior to the recording of the second demo, leaving the remaining trio as Amputation's final lineup.

In July they released their second and last demo titled «Slaughtered in the Arms of God». It was recorded at Grieghallen recording studio in Bergen.

Last Amputation’s lineup from left to right:

Jørn Inge Tunsberg(Bass),Padden(Drums), Harald Nævdal(Guitars & Vocals)

How truly romantic would that be. 

to love a poet; to be immortalized in verse

SPOILERS AHEAD ‼️

The transition between ATOS and TLOS had A LOT of plotholes tbh- I had QUESTIONS rummaging through my head 😭😭😭 like-

IN ATOS, Who the hell taught and managed the rest of the students in Madame Weatherberry’s memorial Academy of magic? I mean- Brystal and her friends were gone for DAYS and even WEEKS- who th was helping them manage the school other than Mrs. Vee?

And also, in TLOS The Fairy Godmother (Brystal) was said to have grandchildren, Alex and Conner, right? And in the epilogue of ATOS, she had a "tiny crush" on Ryder, DOES THAT MEAN THAT RYDER IS BRYSTAL'S HUSBAND??? 😭😭😭🙏

And also- where was Elrik in the TLOS? 😭🙏

And a lot of the kingdoms and magical systems changed DRASTICALLY from ATOS to TLOS without further explanation 😭🙏

Guys who read a tale of sorcery, you probably remember that at a certain point alchemists appeared there and convened a council with all the rulers (at the moment). And so, at the end of the book they promised that they would now help the fairy tale the world, and also took with them the immortal and Seven.

And after all their actions, after reading the rest of the land of stories, I personally had one question: Where. Did. They. Go. Alchemists. They literally disappeared and there is no information about them after their disappearance. Naturally, all the books of the land of stories were written BEFORE a tale of magic, a tale of witchcraft and a tale of sorcery, but the questions still don’t go away and aren’t resolved... Therefore, I want to offer my options that could possibly close these plot holes:

1.Option one — alchemists simply died out. It was said that very few of them were born anyway, so what could have happened to them after the birth rate dropped in the age of dragons? Naturally, the chances of their appearance alchemists declined and at some point they simply disappeared, and those who knew about the alchemists' palace did not have time to find the next ones and tell them.

2. Option two — they simply forgot about their duties or something happened to them... It is not known what happened to Semer and the Immortal!

I would also like to hear your versions of what could have happened to this place and these people. I also want to remind you about the island of dragons, which also appears in the plot.

meanwhile in the Gryffindor dorms

2am 

Harry: i’m immortal. I mean ive never died so you cant prove anything 

Ron: shut the hell up 

*a few moments later*

Ron in a cold sweat: shit you right.....

Her.

Based on the writing prompt, "Every 100,00 years, God restarts the universe, including mankind. Last time, God started with Adam and Eve. This time, God starts with two new people. The problem, however, is that you've somehow managed to survive the reset, and keep all your memories. Additionally, it appears that you've stopped aging entirely."

~~~

From behind a tree of what I had quickly learned was the garden of Aiden, I watched the couple meet. There were some similarities. The trees were still filled with apples, only they were pink. There were flowers that seemed like prehistoric lilacs, next to vibrant teal ones with no name. The world seemed more saturated, more colorful, slightly more square. But the biggest change was from the two people only a couple meters away. Their leaves didn't need to be on their chests. One was muscular, the other thin and scrawny. Their tails swung gently under them. One of them glanced in my direction, and I hid away. The feeling of being watched didn't leave as he looked away. As I realized just what having two men in the garden meant, a shrieky voice rang out. "ALPHA ADAM AND BETA STEVE, SONS OF GOD." The voice declared. "THOU SHALL BRING UPON THE NEW WORLD. UWU." I clamped my hand over my mouth, trying not to scream. "UwU." They said back. I had to hear them say that. I had to watch Li'l Cider get Steve to bite into the apples, which turned out to be the most primal form of drug. The world hated me. It sounded like God was a 13-year old girl. I wanted to die. But as the years went on, I found I simply couldn't.

~~~

The good thing about being immortal was that I couldn't die. If I broke through skin, there was something like a barrier underneath. During my darkest times, I sat and watched that translucent barrier shimmer in the night before my skin quickly regenerated. The bad thing about being immortal was that I couldn't die. It was so lonely. I couldn't get on Noah's arc - one family per species, he said. I watched the unicorns pile in in my place. Instead, I had a rickety little boat. Halfway through the purge, a wave pushed me off. I breathed in water on purpose. It was agony, but only for a bit. The world looked so pretty under the waves. I stayed down there for a couple weeks.

~~~

I watched Jesus cry on the giant cross, a capitalized T this time around. The guard look at the sun, sweat dripping into his prismarine armor. A man glanced at me, and I tightened the shawl around me head. I nervously scratched at my aching binder. I had to pass, or else they'd find out. I had already become an outcast for not having a tail, or the right ears. But if they knew I was the only girl in a literal world of men . . . I don't know what would happen then. I watched the guard check the sun again, declare it had been 30 minutes, then take Jesus out of his timeout. I wanted to go home so badly I shook a little. 

~~~

I didn't breathe anymore. I didn't have to. I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was John, my friend for this century. "Michael," he started, obviously nervous. "You are a being shrouded with mystery. You share no tales, you hint no clues. And yet here you stand, with no tail nor role to your name, yet ageless beauty. And though I am paralyzed, I must speak the truth. I wish to love you, Michael."

I looked out, gazing across the indigo ocean from the S.S.South. It was not my first confession, nor would it be my last. I always ended up doing the same thing.

"You mortals are fascinating. You live so slow, yet so fast. Your love is quick, yet eternal. Your deaths are sudden, and they have no purpose. You make meaning out of nothing. Amazing."

Yes. I pull some vampire romance bs out of my butt while giving a grim smile.

Luckily, John let out a nervous laugh. Hopefully he was having second thoughts. "S-surely you jest?"

I laughed too, and grabbed my buckled hat out of instinct. "Perhaps. My world is one of fantasy. But I cannot accept your confession. There is only one person whose love I must gain. I don't know if I shall ever find her."

"Her?"

"Yes, her." I hesitated. You'd think that after being alive for thousands of years, I'd remember some words didn't exist anymore. "it's an . . . Ancient word. From my hometown. It means "the one I love". I apologise, but you are not her."

He nodded, big ears drooping, and turned away. I didn't move for a second, but saw a man glanced at me and quickly looked back out into the ocean. I had definitely thought about having a purpose. But with the literal child of the Justice clothing store and furry fanfiction running the town (did I mention the boat was pink?), It seemed pretty slim that that was the case. Especially since there was no such thing as "her." Still, it was nice to think about.

~~~

I denied being a witch. I knew no matter how much skin they scorched off, I'd be fine. But I wanted to see how far they would go. I fought the special red-and-white striped rope bonds a little, grinning. I had reverted back to an edgy way of living, just in time for the warlock trials. Even better, in this timeline, it was universal, and I was actually pretty sure warlocks were real. Maybe I was a warlock - well, a witch, - and I just hadn't realized my powers yet. I heard whispers and shouts as I passed by.

"I heard Cider himself cut off his tail!"

"What are those things on his head?"

"Neither alpha not beta . . . "

"Always an outcast, always a warlock!"

I stepped up onto the wood, smiling. A hundred or more eyes stared up at me as I was bound to a pole. I smiled; I hadn't had this many eyes on me since before the first Armageddon. They lit the match. And then there was screaming. From them, from me. I felt every lick of flame. It was only when I felt something near my chest snap that faintly I realized my mistake through the mind-numbing pain. My badly made binder had broken. If they saw through the flames, they would be able to see that I'm wronger than they ever thought. I struggled through my rope ties, surely scaring everyone around me. The second I felt them loosen, I ran.

~~~

When someone is so utterly suicidal that they would gladly jump into extraordinarily deadly situations just because it felt nice, war seemed like the perfect choice. I took bullets like they were little spitballs being thrown my way. I treated myself like little more than a fleshy punching bag. I made excuses as to why I was still alive, why it took me so long to realize we were retreating, why I seemed to have a death wish. I was able to laugh it off. I kept fabric over my ears, a homemade binder on my chest, and a hole in my heart at all times. As I ran in front of someone to feel pain spread from my arm, I never wished more for that dumb kid in the sky to kill me.

~~~

I sat in my room, drunkenly looking at the small pile of pages in front of me. When I first came to this world, I had grabbed a bit of charcoal and tree bark, and I wrote down as much as I could remember. As the centuries passed on, they were written and rewritten, edited constantly to make more of a story than a documentary. Constantly getting longer and longer as I quickly realized just how much a person's mind wasn't supposed to handle so much memory. And there they were. I thought about my bad job. I thought about my broken, dinky little apartment. I thought about me. And I grabbed my age-old computer and started to write.

~~~

I was at a book signing, my fears about being found out stuck in the back of my head. I called my ears a mutation, my lack of tail a birth defect. I questioned my sanity, wondering if they were really just that. I wrote the hole in my heart into pages of writing, and came out with a "fantasy" where the world was slightly different, and they all looked like me. I wrote a series on that topic. I wrote stories about aliens and existentialism, and the people loved it. I called up the next in line.

"You're Her."

"Hmm? Yes, that's my pen name."

"No. You're Her. It means the one I love."

My face blanched. I hadn't written that in my books.

I signed three more guys, and then went for lunch with him.. His name was Jackson, and he told me he had seen paintings of us together. He had read his great-something grandfather John's diary. He read about Her. He didn't think I was real. I said I wasn't sure if I was either. We laughed and talked a bit more. After listening to me for a bit, he told me whether I had been alive for hundreds of years or not, I should get a therapist. I agreed. We never spoke again.

~~~

I kept nervously checking my phone. Today was the day. After thousands of years of contact, it was finally the same day everyone died. I don't know why I kept track of the date, but I was pretty sure today was the Armageddon day. I chose a nice spot in the park, being as close to nature as one could get in the city. And I waited. And waited. People walked past. A dog sniffed at me. The warmth of the sun made me tired, and I started drifting away.

The sound of someone sitting down startled me awake. It was a guy with shaggy hair and a big sunhat, watching the pond in front of us with a little grin on his face. A little strange, but seeing as I existed, it wasn't too bad. 

"Lovely afternoon, isn't it?"

"I Guess."

"I love to come watch the sunsets, though it hasn't started yet."

I gave him a look. "Uh-huh."

"Wish I had brought a book with me, or some birdseed, but-"

I held up a hand. "Look, did you need anything? I'm in the middle of being stood up by the universe."

He stopped his chattering and looked at me, confused. "What were you waiting for?"

"Armageddon."

"Ah." Surprisingly, he just nodded and looked back towards the pond. I left soon after.

Armageddon didn't happen.

~~~

I came back the next week. He was there.

"I feel like I've seen before. On a boat or something."

I laughed at that. "You haven't. It's been ages since I was on a boat."

"It's been ages for me too."

"I've been off longer. Promise."

~~~

I jumped as the man tapped my hand. I yanked it away as fast as physically possible.

"Don't touch me."

 The man raised his hands apologetically. "Sorry! I just wanted to ask you something."

I rubbed my arm, my skin screaming. Touch starvation was real, kiddos. "Well you can do it without touching me?"

"Why are you so angry?"

I paused, then sighed a little. Time for more vampire novels. ". . . I know it doesn't look like it, but I've been alive for a very long time. And I haven't been treated nicely during that time." I hesitated. That was probably too much information. "Nothing too bad, but still. At this point I think I'm just lonely." I looked over, faking a little grin. "Plus, I was really hoping for that Armageddon thing."

The man let out a barely-there chuckle. It didn't seem genuine, though. "What about you?" I asked.

He looked startled, but smiled after a moment. "Well, I'm not really angry, but I'm kind of sad. I've been alive longer than you, and it's been . . . tiring. Too many things have happened to too many people. It's too easy to lose faith in humanity." It got quiet.

Time for a mood change. "You haven't lived longer than me." 

He sighed. "Believe me, I have."

Yeah, right. "Try me. Age?"

"Uh, e-eighty seven!" I gave him a look, then burst out laughing.

"No you're not! You look like your 20-something!"

He huffed, but started to grin." Well then, what about you, junior?"

"Oh, you wanna fight? I've been alive since the beginning of time!"

"Hah! As if!"

"I have! I was in the Garden of Aiden, I saw the two holy losers we call our ultimate grandparents!"

"Uh-huh. Sure."

I threw up my hands "I have!"

"Well, if you've really lived for thousands of years, then it must get lonely. How about a friend?" I must've had a look, because he quickly continued. "Or at least a name? I can't keep calling you 'random guy' in my head."

Screw it. He could be this century's friend. For however long it lasts. I held out a hand. ". . . Um, sure. For both. I'm Michael. Just Michael."

He shook it happily. "Sarah Worth."

"Weird name."

"Yeah, it's a family name."

"Cool." I wondered where he came from. I had never heard of a name that feminine before.

~~~

It became a trend. I threw out some birdseed. "Here's a fun fact: Michael's actually a cover name. I got it back during the creation of America. It's been so long since I've heard my actual name that I've forgotten what I used to be called."

Sarah looked at me, impressed. "Wow. You have a lot of stories, don't you?"

"As I've said. I've lived a long time." 

A look crossed his face for a second. "Um. Do you have a number? I'd love to hear more over some coffee." Oh no.

"I . . . I don't know."

"You don't have a phone?"

"No, I . . . I know it's weird that I keep saying I've lived forever and stuff, but it's true enough. And I haven't ever hooked up with someone, because I don't want to watch them die. I've always left friends after a couple of years so I didn't have to watch them die. I don't want to watch you die." It got quiet.

He almost grabbed my hand, but stopped and set it on the bench instead. "It doesn't have to be forever. It'll be a long, long time before I, or any other friends you have die. And I . . . I- it doesn't have to be a date. Just . . . A scenery change. Okay?"

I stared Sarah down, thinking. Then I nodded. "You know what? Sure."

~~~

I decided, after a while, that Sarah was Her. I decided after it became official, after hundreds of dates, after she moved in with me. Even a century later she was still Her.

"Hey, I'm gonna start calling you Shelly cause you need a girl name." She mumbled in her sleep once.

"Oh my God I love you."

~~~

There was fire. Screaming. The very familiar sense of boiling hot, creamy pain as the world was cast into the sun. And then . . .

~~~

They called it the Empire this time, despite it still being a garden. They weren't apples this time, either, but some weird, lumpy purple things, like if grapes and strawberries had a child. It seemed as though I would really live forever. I was crushed at first. And then I wasn't.

"Do you think there'll be more?" I asked Sarah from up on the wall barrier.

"Maybe. Probably. I mean, I was here a world before you."

"Let's try to find them."

We watched two figures step into partial view. It was hard to see, but I was pretty sure I saw a vague outline of a woman. And a tail. Good enough for me.

There was a flash of red in one of the back corners, but when my head snapped over, it was gone. Probably nothing. I nudged Sarah.

"Hey, you think I could try to shapeshift into something? Like- like a snake?" 

She gave me the Look. "Are you really gonna try at being a devil?"

"Hey, we're immortal. Maybe we're more than that. Just let me try. Please babe. Please."

She glared at my puppy eyes, then groaned  "You are insufferable."

I kissed her cheek and stood up giddily. "Love ya too, babe."

I jumped off the wall excitedly, trying to think really hard about how much I wanted to be a snake. I hoped my girlfriend thought it was amusing. And as I heard the deep voice of the new God of the world, I decided that wherever we were, whatever was happening, it was good enough for me.