There’s so many moments when Ghost thinks he’s fallen in love with you all over again. You’re a vision when you’re angry.
He watches in awe as you put your head through a window, blood dripping down your forehead as you grab a long shard and crack it out of the frame. It slices along the lines of your fingers, making blood run down the glass until it can gather and drip to the floor.
You turn to him in a flash and with a guttural cry you embed your makeshift weapon into his gut and torque your wrist just so— the glass snaps from the piece in your hand, embedding itself in his belly and almost no graspable surface to leverage it free. You push him onto the tile floor, throwing the leftover glass in your hand right next to his head where it shatters against the hard tile, hitting his cheek like cold rain.
You stomp out of the room, and heaven help whatever breakable objects land in your warpath.
Simon is so hard he doesn’t even remember what you were fighting about.
(@ceilidho has been posting things abt Ghost loving a violent lady and in conjunction with the immortal AU where he can’t die??? And you can’t either?? Got me thinking thots most foul)
Buck: If I die, I'd like half of my assets and inheritance to be given to Chris, and the other half to Jee. Eddie already signed off on it, so all I need left is both of your signatures.
Maddie: That is so sweet, Buck -
Chimney: 'If' you die? What do you mean if? And what assets???
Buck: ...You still haven't told him?
Maddie: Not all of us can find love with a potential immortal, little brother.
Chimney, stage whispering: What is going on.
Characters: Technoblade, Philza, Dream (mentioned), Wilbur (mentioned, Tommy (mentioned), Sapnap (mentioned), George (mentioned)
Warnings:
Summary: The Keeper of Time wakes up to go on her normal patrol, but something is amiss. When she knocks on the door of the unfamiliar home and doesn’t ever remember seeing, her reality begins to form fractures. Time is cruel and confusing. And yet, it’s your job to keep track of it all.
Words: 2.5k
previous chapter <----> next chapter
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
Time is not kind. It waits for no soul, no dream, no love It sweeps up anything and everything in its path. Time leaves behind painful traces and memories. Everything but the real thing. Time is there one day and gone the next. One moment, you’re a child playing with toys. The next, you’re losing a life on a brutal battlefield. It rips away people. Brothers, sisters, siblings, fathers, mothers, parents. Friends.
Do not be fooled by the pretentious title, my dears. You do not control Time. You do not command it. Do not get to decide who and what it spares. Time is a force to be reckoned with. Uncontrollable, relentless, and cruel. Even an immortal being can do nothing to tame it. Untamable.
You were immortal but not invulnerable. You felt pain like any mortal, but had a tolerance for it that they could not comprehend. Every wave of agony could be felt, but it wouldn’t kill you. Nothing could. You had all the tools needed to be the Keeper of Time. All the tools needed to document each and every event on the server.
That was your job, after all. Not to keep Time. But to keep track of the effects Time has had on the world. A tedious task indeed, thankless as well. There is no one to thank you, after all.
You have not talked to any people on the server. It’s forbidden, but it also isn’t possible. There is no one on the server, not anymore. No gods. No mortals. No hybrids. No mobs. Only peaceful animals and plant life. There are no buildings, no bustling towns nor grand castles. Only earth and natural life.
It’s peaceful. Quiet. Lonely. It’s your life. The life you will have forever. Until the end of Time. But Time never ends, so neither do you.
Your restful sleep makes you feel more energized than you have in centuries. The grass is soft underneath your bare feet as you walk. The breeze is steady, making your elegant robes billow out to the side. Your eyes flutter closed in content. You do not trip or fall. You’ve walked every part of this server too many times for that to happen.
The waves crash against the side of the cliff a short distance away from you. The salty smell of the ocean mixes beautifully with the scents of the flowers. This is the environment you love; alone, not lonely, quiet, but not silent.
This is your home. The entire server is your home. You have no designated dwelling. No castle, cottage, or base. You rest on the softest patches of grass. Conjure a pillows of flowers to rest your head on. Sometimes, a fox will pad over and curl into your body for warmth. The long-abandoned Temple of Time is your workspace, a place rarely visited.
You continue walking, taking in the peaceful sights. The light breeze makes the blade of grass and the flowers sway languidly as if in a slow dance. You twirl around once to match them, a soft giggle leaving your lips.
You are still naive at this point. Still foolish. Still young. Still unaware of the curse of your duties.
You’re so happy listening to the symphony of the world - the birds, the grass, the distant waves, your breathing - that you don’t even notice that you’ve strayed from your usual path.
Only when your eyes catch on something unfamiliar do you realize. Nothing is unfamiliar in this server. Not to you. It's not supposed to be. Your job is to keep track of everything. How could you have missed this- this home?
Conjuring your notebook and quill from the air, you walk closer to the dwelling.
Voices. Human voices. You hear them wafting from the windows of the home. Two masculine voices that speak back and forth. The sounds mix in with the rest of the world.
You realize that you’ll have to speak. You realize that you haven’t spoken in years. Your voice is slightly husky when you test it out quietly, but it isn’t broken or cracking.
Drawing yourself up to your full height, you stride right up to the wooden door an knock.
The voices go quiet. The words still. So do you.
You wait. Wait as there is silence - except for nature’s symphony - for a couple more moments. Wait as you hear low muttering. Wait as you hear what sounds like a chair scraping against the floor. Wait as the sound of a blade rings true. Wait as the doorknob turns. Wait as the door is slowly opened.
You are greeted by a person. Maybe not a fully human person, but a person nonetheless. That mere fact takes a few moments to sink in. As does the fact that a crossbow is being pointed right at your heart.
“Hello?”
The man in front of you, the one who opened the door, the one holding the crossbow, has a deep voice. Deep like the thunder that crashes during the powerful rainstorms. Deep like the ravines you love flying over. But it’s strangely soothing.
Your face brightens in the most minuscule smile as you respond. “Hello.”
Another man steps into view. He looks very different. Blond hair instead of pink. Blue eyes instead of a dark red. Curious smile instead of a wary scowl. Green clothes instead of red. He seems a little older too. Or maybe that’s just the shadow of his stripped bucket hat.
“Who are you?” The crossbow man demands, shifting his grip on the weapon slightly. A long lock of his pink hair falls over his shoulder. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”
The man in green interjects. “Techno, calm down. I don’t think she’s a threat.”
Techno. So that’s his name.
You laugh. “I wouldn’t dismiss me like that.”
It’s true. You are a goddess. You have the power to conjure. You have the power to make things simply cease to exist. You may not be as powerful as Time, but no one is. You still are a force to be reckoned with when provoked.
“See,” the man called ‘Techno’ growls, not taking his eyes away from you for a second.
You are unfazed. “Who might you be?” you ask.
“I’m Philza,” the other tells you. “Philza Minecraft.”
He seems far more chipper. More friendly, more welcoming. He’s much warmer. But Techno is cold as ice. His crossbow still hasn’t been lowered. It still is aimed directly at your chest. The arrow would go straight through you if he pulled the trigger.
You’d feel every bit of pain the injury would cause. Feel everything as if you were a mortal. But no matter how much you’d bleed, you wouldn’t die. Nothing could kill you. You were a goddess. The Keeper of Time. Of course a measly arrow wouldn’t kill you.
“I’m Technoblade.”
You nod, mentally committing to memory everything you’ve learned thus far. When you get back to your favorite clearing in the forest, you’ll record the events in your notebook.
“Who are you?”
It’s been centuries - maybe millenniums - since you’ve had to answer that question. An almost immeasurable amount of time since you’ve had to carefully select your words as to not give too much away. Despite how long it’s been, you remember your standard response.
“My name is Y/n Tempus.” Tempus meant ‘time’ in the ancient language of the server. No one except for you remembers it. It’s a dead language. Practically extinct. But the name is fitting. It is not your actual surname. You don’t have one. But if you did... Tempus is what you would choose.
“Where are you from?”
“Thousands of blocks away.”
It isn’t entirely a lie. Technically, you were born very far away from the doorstep of the cottage you currently stand at, but you aren’t from anywhere. You were born too long ago for anything to count.
“Why are you here?”
“Technoblade?!” Philza sounds exasperated, embarrassed, and angry all at the same time. “I told you not to be so hostile.”
You chuckle. “Oh no. Let me assure you, I completely understand. I’d be quite wary if I met the first other human on the server.”
That makes both of the men go quiet. They share a confused glance. They look back at you. Then look at one another again. Finally, the silence is broken.
Philza takes a step closer to you, concern evident on his face. “Young one?”
You nearly bark a laugh at the ironic pet name. You may look young, your youthful beauty may hide the millenniums of years you’ve lived, but it doesn’t erase them.
But for the sake of maintaining your ruse, maintaining your relative anonymity, you say nothing.
“Where did you come from?”
Your brows furrow slightly in a puzzled sort of frustration. “I told you, thousands of blocks away from here.”
Another concerned look is shared between the men. Techno and Philza are their names. You must remember for later. You always do. It isn’t an issue. Your memory is impeccable.
Techno asks the questions again this time. “Have you never heard of the Community House?”
The name doesn’t ring a bell. “No.” For once, your answer is completely truthful.
“Do you not know who Wilbur and Dream are?”
“No.”
“Sapnap and George and Tommy?”
“No. Who are they? Surely, they can’t be humans.” They can’t be. Philza and Techno have been the first human-dish beings you've seen on the server in many many centuries.
“Well, not all of them are humans. There are a lot of hybrids.” Philza gestures to himself and his companions. “Matter of fact, Techno and I are hybrids as well.”
You have trouble processing the news. How could humans and human-like creatures have just re-appeared since yesterday? When you went on your morning and nighttime strolls around the previous day, you saw nothing. Today, you see a home. You “meet” the two people living inside. You learn that they know many other humans.
You think back to the last thing you remember.
The lighthouse.
You remember visiting the lighthouse on it’s monthly check. Checking to make sure nothing is severely broken or damaged beyond its previous state of minor disrepair. You remember falling asleep on a particularly soft clump of grass after drawing on the smooth surfaces of the rocks that rest near the water’s edge. It’s a fun pastime of yours, creating small pictures using crushed berries.
You painted them only yesterday. Today is the day after yesterday. You visited the lighthouse, went on your normal walks, and tended to your pets yesterday. Everything was normal yesterday. Today has proven to be quite the opposite.
“Excuse me,” your voice is clipped, masking an emotion they’ll never decipher. “but could you please take me to the lighthouse?”
Their expressions of blatant confusion only amplify your panic. It’s been a long time since you’ve panicked.
But then, Technoblade’s eyes flash with recognition, remembrance. “Do you mean the old, crumbled, stone tower near the ocean?”
Old? Crumbled? Yes, the lighthouse was in sub-optimal condition the last time you visited - yesterday - but it shouldn’t be destroyed in the span of a few hours. The few hours you spent resting.
“Yes,” you manage to say.
To your surprise and immense relief, Philza Minecraft and Technoblade lead you out of the unfamiliar territory they call home and to your home.
Sure enough, when you arrive, the lighthouse isn’t what you remember. Vines grow up the sides of what’s left of the walls.The stones are much smoother, as if because of erosion. But erosion takes time. And not enough time has passed for visible effects of erosion to be shown.
A flash of color catches your eyes. You paintings on the rocks. Or, what’s left of them. Most of the image has faded, been washed away.
But how? You were just here yesterday. A trembling hand - yours - ghosts over the paintings. Memories of creating them flash one after another. Memories are strong. But they can also be false.
“How long has it been since these were painted?” You ask your travel companions who have stuck around, deciding to explore some of the area as well.
Philza answers. “Over a century ago.”
That makes you freeze. Makes your muscles tense. Makes everything screech to a halt.
“But that can’t be right,” you mumble to yourself, trying to make sense of everything you’re being told. “I went to sleep and-”
Your unspoken question answers itself. It was your sleep. Your rest. Somehow, somehow, over a century managed to fly by as you rested your eyes. How that happened your will never understand.
Once again, Time refuses to wait. Or maybe it simply can’t.
Politely thanking Technoblade and Philza, you assure them that you know your way home and walk away. Walk towards your favorite clearing in the forest. Walk even a little further to where the Temple of Time is tucked away.
You sit down right in the center of the floor, the diamond and stone brick floor cool and smooth underneath you. Your dress forms almost a halo around you as you bent forward to begin recording in your notebook....
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
From the Notebook of Y/n, Keeper of Time:
It seems that time has eluded me once more. I went to sleep yesterday - or what I thought was yesterday - and woke up today. Only to find out that today is over a hundred years after yesterday.
I’ve been told that in the time that I’ve been asleep, humans and hybrids once again walk the server. And apparently, there’s a “god” among them. Another one. Not me. Not Time.
The Blood God, is what he’s called.
He is not actually the God of blood. It’s merely a title. A name assigned to him. His name is Technoblade. ‘Techno’ for short. Those he is not close with call him ‘the Blade’. I can tell that nickname affects him. I don’t need to ask why. Maybe I will someday, though. Maybe just to see what he says.
Philza Minecraft, the other man I met today, also has his own title. I’ve heard as much. The Angel of Death. I know Death. Quite well, actually. She’s quite kind. I didn’t tell him that, though.
No one knows who I am yet. They don’t need to. It’s forbidden for me to share my true identity. I share my real first name and make up a surname, but I also craft entire backstories for me.
Someday, I’ll observe the other humans and hybrids. I won't meet them. I won’t let myself form attachments. It’s dangerous. It’s setting myself up for heartbreak. I would know. I do know. From experience. And trust me, it’s not an experience I want to have again.
For now, I must get used to the fact that I have company once more. I must return to living in the shadows and forcing myself into isolation. I must prepare to write a lot in this Notebook.
I must prepare for a new Era. A new wave of life and pain and suffering. Of death and rebirth. Of knowledge and power. Of true hearts and corrupt kingdoms.
It’s time, my dears, for the Era of the New Server.
Summary: Minji's never met her before, but somehow she finds herself feeling like she should be able to place who this girl she's come across is.
Requested? ☒
"I'll always find you again and again."
Genre: Immortal!Jiu, Immortal!AU, Soulmates!AU
Warnings: None
--------------------٩(◕‿◕｡)۶--------------------
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"
Minji looks up from her laptop, pausing her work to meet the stranger's gaze. With a shake of her head, she says that it's unoccupied. The stranger sits down infront of her, adjusting her seat for a moment before settling on a comfortable position.
"Thank you, Miss?"
Something about the way her smile meets her eyes has Minji's body torn between smiling back at the girl or furrowing her eyebrows in Dejá vu. Her hand subconsciously traces the tattoo she's had on the inside of her forearm ever since she was born all those centuries ago, she tries not to think too much about it and opts instead to look into the girl's eyes with a small smile on her lips as she takes the hand offered to her. "Minji, Kim Minji. A pleasure to meet you stranger-whose-name-I-do-not-know."
The small and quiet but genuine laugh has her mind scrambling around once more, she feels like she's heard this laugh before, but she's never met you and she certainly doesn't forget people easily. Her senses fill with memories of you and her eyes start to sting immediately. But with the stranger infront of her she knows she can't stay with you for long, so she lets you tell her you love her with pain in your voice, and she forces herself to come back to the present and to leave you in the past.
Remembering you is easy, it's forgetting that you're gone that's difficult.
"I guess I'll refer to myself as Stranger then-" The modern girl shrugs her shoulders in a playful way, while the older of the two raises an eyebrow in amusement. "I'm a senior student from the university just a block over. Correct me if I'm wrong in assuming, but you look like a student too, which course are you taking if you don't mind me asking?" Minji's eyes widen with admiration at the stranger's words, she actually wanted to apply for that university just to get a degree in arts because she's been into it these past fifty years. But she figured that since she just got her degree in entrepreneurship seven years ago, she can wait for a bit and gather her strength before heading back into the hell that is university.
"That's impressive! From what I've heard, it's not an easy school at all." She turns her laptop off, opting for a conversation with the stranger that just effortlessly holds her attention. "To disprove your assumption though, I'm not a student anymore. I work for a small but well off company here in the city. Pretty lucky to be allowed to do so outside of an office too! I'd go crazy if I had to sit in the same place, for a majority of the week." She adds a mock shudder to add to the effect, and the girl seated across her agrees with a gentle smile on her lips.i
They talk like they've known each other for lifetimes, the conversation flowing and ebbing like waves between the moon's and the Earth's gravities on a calm and quiet night.
Minji learns that the stranger is taking astronomy, and the stranger learns that Minji likes helping out at animal shelters. The stranger says that Minji's eyes look like that of a wizened adventurer's, and Minji says that the stranger's presence is like a light to a moth.
Time slips their attention like sand slips through the space between the fingers of a hand. They talk for what felt like a couple of minutes for them, but then again time flies when you're having fun.
A statement proven true when the stranger's phone alarm rings and she sighs in disappointment. She tells Minji that class will be starting in fifteen minutes and she has to go if she hopes to make it back in time, the older of the two understands. She smiles at the girl, offering her number because the stranger now feels like a newly made friend. The stranger accepts and tells her friend that she's in the same place, same time everyday except for the weekends.
Minji says that she'll be sure to be there as often as she can, and once again the stranger's smile reaches her eyes, and once again Minji's mind scrambles to find out why that smile feels as familiar as the back of her hand. She stands up when the stranger does, this time being the one to offer her hand in a handshake, the girl accepts and with a strong, firm shke, she makes her way from infront of Minji, to the exit of the shop located far behind her.
Brown eyes follow the figure of a strange new friend and as the stranger walks away, her eyes finally take notice of how the shop seems to have a very slow day, and as her friend's hand comes up to push the door open, Minji calls out.
The stranger turns around.
"Why'd you sit with me?" she asks as she gestures to all of the empty tables and chairs of the shop.
The stranger blinks at her owlishly, once, then twice, before a smile pulls at her lips once more. "I felt like I knew you, even when I didn't. So I just went for it." She shrugs her shoulders in a nonchalant manner, bids Minji a casual goodbye and makes her way out the door.
Minji feels like she's been punched in the gut, and slowly she sinks back down in her seat, one hand subconsciously moving to her forearm where the tattoo lies on her skin beneath the sleeve of her shirt while her mind struggles to decide if whether that was just a coincidence or if once again she's being presented another chance by the universe.
She's scared, all the other times she's found you, heard you utter the words tattooed on her skin over and over and over again in the course of a hundred lifetimes, over and over again she sees how the universe is kind, but the people are cruel- and she's left with memories of how the love between the two of you had never ended happily.
Minji's eyes look to the screen on her phone, and her eyes sting with tears again, but this time she doesn't bother to try and hold it back. As she sees the name that's been newly added to her contacts list- Suddenly the familiarity in your eyes and your habits all make sense. She's never met you in person in this life before, but she's met your soul in countless other forms you've taken.
Y/N L/N
The soul whose face changes every single life, but whose love stays as strong and as devoted every single time.
You've found your way to each other once again, and Minji can't help but to hope.
Perhaps now that the people are changing, things will turn out happily for the both of you this time around.
A sketch of immortal!Moana and Maui in modern times. probably figuring out where to eat on yelp or something.
I’m trying to come to terms with the fact that no matter how much I tell myself I’ll finish some drawings it’ll never happen and it’s a shame to just hoard them forever. So I’m going to try to post more unfinished sketches and just set them free.
If you know Re:Zero, it's the same principle. Izuku discovers that he has a quirk after a confrontation with a villain, and with each death, he goes back in time to his last awakening. To not worry his mother, he makes it sound like a prescience quirk over which he has no real control. But it becomes more complicated when he has to deal with Tsukauchi.
It’s globally an AU where Izuku acts as a vigilante, and who makes Aizawa and Tsukauchi running after him.
Type of kiss #2 in an Immortal AU with our big boi Flip?😃
2. “A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.” in an immortal!AU with Flip Zimmerman
She tells him, one day, that she has a secret.
He’s intruiged: smokes his cigarette out the back of the rundown bar and stubs it on the sidewalk with his foot. She was battered up - broken as he’d ever seen a cop. She shouldn’t be alive, after a crash like that.
So she tells him something he doesn’t quite believe.
“I can’t die.”
Flip chuffs, blowing out a lungful of smoke.
“Crash scrambled up your brain pretty hard, huh.”
He doesn’t believe her. Doesn’t know what to believe, right now: but certainly not this shit.
Just imagine his shock, one day when she’s covering him: and shit ends up on the receiving end of a bullet to the forehead. The damned thing goes right through, and Flip’s already losing his goddamn mind--
And then it pops out. Pops right back out, and the wound slowly starts to close over.
And the world changes.
She tells him stories - she’s seen wars like you’d never believe. Seen the world change, turning on its axis. He’s not a betting man, but if he were: he’d say she’s been alive for more than a millenium.
She likes the 70s, even if she liked the 1870s even more.
One day, they’re sitting on a bench together: Flip passes her his cigarette, and she takes a slow drag.
“So what: you’ve been alone? All that time?”
He can’t imagine that. Can’t imagine a girl like her ever had much trouble bringing men to their knees, no matter what time it was.
She smirks.
“A girl does get lonely. Forever’s awful long.”
And then - well, then she presses a quick peck to his lips.
Flip just freezes up for a moment; suspended in a second of her forever. The world drops to a quiet trill of birdsong, and she’s just staring at him, this beautiful look that just...
When his lips crush to hers again, his huge hands lean in to cup the planes of her jaw. Every part of her is beautiful - every part as moving as a summer’s breeze.
