#My immortal au

[jazzstarrlight]

My Immortal - Chapter.1 Page.5

Death by death, clone by clone, a piece of his mind wanders off on it's own. Heart to heart, hand in hand, only a friend can bring piece to this man. ...and maybe a hug or two.

9 13, 19 15 18 18 25, 21 26 9.

(poor Dobi.) [No humans were killed in the making of this fire. Only injured and very few were hospitalized.]

Am I doing the right thing by continuing this story? Well, can't stop now. Gotta keep it up. So enjoy some good angst!

[cmdonovann]

MY BLEEDING CLOCK PLAYLIST IS LIVE

YOU CAN LISTEN TO IT ON MY WEBSITE HERE: (X)

SORRY FOR CONTINUING THE JOKE LONGER THAN APRIL FOOLS DAY BUT IM ACTUALLY HAVING A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS AU :3

tracklist under the cut:

girlfriend - avril lavigne

everytime we touch - cascada

shake it - metro station

untouched - the veronicas

i don't wanna be in love - good charlotte

thnks fr th mmrs - fall out boy

ain't it fun - paramore

tik tok - ke$ha

don't trust me - 3oh!3

bad boy - cascada

crushcrushcrush - paramore

dear maria - all time low

cross my heart - marianas trench

time bomb (acoustic) - all time low

decode - paramore

all the right moves - onerepublic

hurts like heaven - coldplay

mr brightside - the killers

sugar we're going down - fall out boy

complicated - avril lavigne

fingerprints - katy perry

airplanes (ft. hayley williams) - B.o.B

colorado sunrise - 3oh!3

till the world ends - britney spears

dj got us fallin in love - usher

we r who we r - ke$ha

michael - franz ferdinand

blackout - breathe carolina

dancing with a wolf - all time low

supermassive black hole - muse

teenagers - my chemical romance

boulevard of broken dreams - green day

bring me to life - evanescence

truth or dare - marianas trench

time is running out - muse

crawling - linkin park

anarchy my dear - say anything

blue and yellow - the used

millions - gerard way

ocean avenue - yellowcard

check yes juliet - we the kings

kryptonite - 3 doors down

weightless - all time low

away we go - coheed and cambria

gorgeous nightmare - escape the fate

going under - evanescence

over my head - the fray

the adventure - angels & airwaves

don't die digging - the graduate

ohio is for lovers - hawthorne heights

i know - placebo

be my escape - relient k

how to start a war - simon curtis

walk through hell - say anything

dance or die - family force five

girls/girls/boys - panic! at the disco

welcome to the black parade - my chemical romance

[faofinn]

No. 14 DIE A HERO OR LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO BECOME A VILLAIN

@whumptober

@whumptober-archive

Desperate Measures | Failed escape | “I’ll be right behind you.”

Ever since the other pack had injured Harrison, Fred’s pack had been half at war. They were hard to find, but there had been scraps, at the fringes of territory where nothing mattered. Nothing but blood and teeth and claws. They’d all scrapped, Fao covered in scratches and bruises more often than not. 

Harrison was recovering well, but the fighting continued, tensions raised whenever the two packs met. It meant the clinic was busier than ever, alongside their usual caseload, and they had to be very careful of the visitors to the sanctuary. 

Fao had just finished a clinic shift with Steve and Finn, and was stretched out on the sofa enjoying a cup of tea before he headed home. He considered shifting, instead of going back, and spending the night in the forest, but he was undecided. Fred’s cooking was also a pretty appealing thought. 

That was when a scent caught his attention, over the antiseptic smell of the clinic, and the cat fur on his top. Smoke. It wasn’t that unusual, out in the country, people often had bonfires. But this smelt different. And it smelt much closer. He sat up, putting his mug down. 

“Can you smell that?”

Steve looked up, putting his own cup down. He took a moment, his face darkening. "Smoke. Let me check. We might need to get the animals out."

“Let me help.”

"There’s no alarm yet." Finn spoke up, grabbing the response bag. "Probably just a bonfire too close."

“I don’t know, it smells different.”

"No point speculating." Steve murmured. 

“True.” Fao agreed, getting to his feet. 

"I'll take the clinic if you want to check the sanctuary?"

“Yeah, I’ll go and check the fenceline.” Fao said, heading out the back door and towards the open space that was the sanctuary.

"Make sure you've got the radio!" Steve called, heading in the opposite direction. 

“I’ve got it!” Fao shouted back, lifting his head to sniff the air.

Finn headed through to the pens while the others explored, prepping for evacuation. They were unsettled, and that worried him; they seemed to know something was up. He padded from cage to cage, fingers through the bars as he chatted away to them. 

Fao checked the fence line around the sanctuary, jogging along it to try and be as quick as he could. He couldn’t see anything, and the scent faded the further he got from the clinic. Concerned, he doubled back, grabbing his radio. 

“Steve? Finn?”

"Anything your end?"

“Nothing. Can’t even smell it.”

"Shit." Steve broke off to cough. "Get back here, get the boarders out. We've got a fire in the storage by the theatres."

“Fuck.” Fao muttered, turning to sprint back to the clinic. “Why have we not had an alarm?” It was mostly a question to himself, as he pushed back through the door and into the clinic. The smell of smoke was much stronger now, and he could feel a flash of fear from his wolf. He headed straight to the pens. “Anyone with treatment needs?”

"I've got two dogs on fluids and one cat." Finn replied. "The other three should be okay."

“Okay. We can get them out easy enough.”

"I've called for fire." Steve said over the radio. "Get who you can out, I'll be right over."

“Cheers Steve. We’ll get them out, I’ll warn Sheila what’s going on, given she’s not far.”

"This wasn't an accident." 

“Let’s just get everyone out.”

"Everything has been cut out." Steve coughed over the radio. "We've got no alarms."

“Be careful, Steve.” Fao said. “Finn, have you got these? I don’t like Steve on his own.”

"I'm fine. I'm coming back to help."

“Be careful.”

"Yeah, I'm trying to." He replied, slightly snarky.

Fao huffed, and left Finn with the animals, heading to where Steve had said he was. He didn’t want the older man getting hurt. 

"Fao, what the fuck? I told you to help Finn, to get out."

“You’re fucking around doing something stupid, I don’t want you getting hurt.”

"I'm trying to save what I can."

“Let me help?”

"Go and help Finn."

“No. Finn’s fine.”

"Get yourself out. I'm not having you get hurt."

“I’m not leaving without you.”

"Fao, please. Listen for once in your life."

“I listen plenty, when you’re not doing stupid stuff.”

"I'm not doing stupid stuff, I'm trying to make sure everything is off and not going to explode. I'll be fine, I'll be one minute and then I'll be right behind you."

It was getting hotter, and Fao’s wolf prickled as the smell of smoke got stronger. “If I help it’ll go quicker.” 

"Precisely. Help Finn." Steve said, ignoring Fao's real point. 

Fao rolled his eyes and just mucked in, checking all of the isolation switches were right. 

"You've done enough, Fao." He said from beside him. "Come on, we need to go."

“Only if you come with me.”

"I'll be right behind you."

The store room was cluttered, typical of just how busy they’d been, and Fao quickly spotted one of the empty oxygen cylinders they’d been storing in there, awaiting collection. The flames lapped at it, and a hot flash of fear ran through Fao. They were never reliably completely empty, and it was a huge risk. “Steve!” He shouted. “Get out, get out now!” He couldn’t wait anymore, he needed out, before he shifted and lost control. That wouldn’t help the situation at all. He bolted from the building, straight out to where Finn was waiting with the animals. 

[cracklewink]

Harmony Syndrome Part 5/5

The last chapter of my mlp infection AU! Thank you to everyone who followed along. Some final thoughts on my twitter @cracklewink if anyone's interested : )

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

Look, he doesn't mind it, but that's not what you expect from someone who you heard say "ow. Not how i thought my day would go." to a stab wound

[britishsass]

(Me reading back the My Immortal AU) Wait, the Aquatos are "cursed" to die to La Croix... Does that mean that Maligula drowned Grulovia in La Croix? And that the Aquatos, instead of having Hydrokinesis has La Croixkinesis? Or maybe they have both and the Aquatos know about the hydrokinesis but not the La Croixkinesis

I have no idea. It's completely a meme, and that's beautiful.

[sualne]

saw a video where they cleaned up a snake

[duckysprouts]

au where killing dracula doesn’t eradicate all vampires and jonathan keeps his promise to mina of being a vampire too so that she doesn’t have to be alone.

100 years later they are hunting down the rest of the vampires and being old even tho they look like they should be at the club

[ghostplasmas]

I can't take myself seriously.

This is for the LU discord weekly prompt: "everything is the same EXCEPT ___" And I decided to make everything the same- except Time is a Muppet!

This turned into a full blown AU (/srs)

[humming-fly]

Happy Holiday to those who celebrate, I am crouching like a sprinter in the ready position for those doors opening tomorrow

Bonus from the peanut gallery:

[tart-miano]

angry that your parody has a degree and you don't, victor

[jazzstarrlight]

So I know wig option 1 has the polls favor, but after careful consideration otion 2 is most suited for the story.

I now introduce to you, my OC Lexi-618! I've also decided to change her eyes to a more blue hue of light. (Also, that pickaxe is collapsible for pocketing.)

Let me know what you think!

[rayveneyed]

cw: sexually explicit content / blood / relatively light sadomasochism / age + experience gap (reader is older + more experienced) / sub!choso / vampires 🧛‍♀️ / sex and violence as two sides of the same coin /

choso kamo is 160 years old when he meets you.

in those years of walking the earth, undead, he believes he’s embraced his vampirism as much as he possibly can. the broiling self-hatred he had once found solace in has reduced to a simmer, strongest in those moments of blood and guts and weakening heartbeats; and although he often avoids crowds, and companionship, and light, he no longer believes himself to be a slave of his own nature.

to be true — in the grand scheme of immortality, of vampirism — he isn’t anywhere close to the level of control he’d wish to have. often, when indulging yuji’s desire to enjoy the world as he did before his death — boardwalks and arcades and cotton candy — he feels his canines aching in his gums, stretching until they dimple against his bottom lip.

it’s not comfortable. it’s not confident. but even despite the growing aches, he’s no longer cowering in alleyways; no longer drinking from poor stray cats and garbage-chewing rats to momentarily satiate that ever-growing, gnawing hunger. he has some sense of control—

“oh, you baby-bats. so adorable.”

control which he now flounders to grab.

a sharp, inky black nail scrapes up the column of his neck — he can’t help but arch into it, head tilting back until his wide, pupil-blown eyes find the ceiling, with its intricate coving and obsidian chandeliers. the music from the main hall is nothing but a buzzing in the back of his head; thoughts of his friends’ whereabouts, an afterthought. your fingernail crowds the underneath of his jaw and stops at where his pulse point would have thrummed, would he have been alive.

you’re a demon. a devil. a she-beast. a succubus. any horrid, terrible name he could call you, he will — dressed in blacks and burgundies and gold older than him, your lips painted an ox-blood red and your eyes as sharp and dark as any polished knife. in your hands he is small. weak. mortal.

“satoru usually keeps his strays away, after last time,” you say, pouting now, though it’s a crude approximation of sadness — even now, your eyes glint with devilment. “so mean, when he knows i have a weak spot for bats like you.”

that wretched finger stretches up; pokes at his bottom lip, scrapes against the fangs that had — embarrassingly — extended from his gums at the simple weight of you on top of him.

“look at that,” you coo, and your grin is something unsettling, something that curdles in the pit of his stomach and heats between his legs. “excited, pup?”

his answering breath comes ragged, and it’s always more embarrassing than it was when he was human. his heart doesn’t work, his lungs do not work, and he has no need to breathe — in fact, he lost the reflex to do so around 92 years ago — but his brain is scrambled, it seems, wilted neurons confusing signals from almost two centuries ago. “i’m — ahem — i’m okay, duchess.”

“how sweet. you don’t have to call me by my title, you know. my name will do just fine.” at his silence, you push yourself up from where you’d been laying low against his chest — looking far too excited when you say: “unless, of course, you like it.”

his hands tremble at his side. he can’t remember the last time he’s indulged in — in debauchery. the last time someone’s made him feel like they’re holding his heart in their hands. over the past hundred-odd years, he’s avoided it like the plague, and for good reason — most vampires aren’t known for their commitment, let’s just say. and now you’re on top of him looking like every sin he’s tried to avoid, and he’s straining so hard in his pants he fears he’ll cum before you even hint at removing a single article of clothing.

you press yourself flush again, nosing at his neck. he knows, for the first time in his long life, what it feels like to be prey. is this what his victims had felt when he ripped into their throats, young and inexperienced and bloodthirsty? did their vulnerability sit like a stone in their throats?

a groan comes from you, suddenly, and your tongue darts out to lave against his skin. choso’s answering moan is more of a whimper, broken and weak in his mouth, but you don’t seem to notice — or care. he flexes his glutes in an effort to stop himself from rutting up against you — not only would it be embarrassing, desperate, but it would be rude. this is your house, after all. your soirée. your gilded halls and bedazzled walls. your silk sheets against his back. your satin skirt bunched around your waist.

“tell me, pup,” you say, and he fights the instinctual reflex to shiver at the brush of your lips against his skin, “have you ever fed from our own?”

“hm?” it’s a sound of confusion brought half on by his simple lack of knowledge, and half on by his slow-processing brain. only seconds after does he fully register your question, and the eyes he hadn’t realised he had screwed shut flew open. “no. i — i didn’t know that was possible.”

all at once, you’re sitting up again — swinging your leg over his hips until you’re standing. it wouldn’t be right to call it clambering — you are impossibly graceful, even passed the agility and elegance that comes with the gift of the undead. his hands reach for you before he can stop them, a sound like a question on his tongue, and you send him the sweetest, most tooth-rotting, stomach-turning smile. he thinks he likes your biting, cruel grins more, though you’re lovely regardless.

you begin to reach for the ties of your corset at your spine — just another thing that makes his mouth water. people didn’t wear these sorts of clothes anymore, not in the human world. but he remembers the skirts and corsets from paintings of noblewomen hundreds of years ago, and how he’d admire the curve of their waists, the swell of their chests—

“of course, satoru wouldn’t tell you. why would he?”

his eyes snap up from your chest, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. but you don’t seem to mind. the corset is removed painfully slowly, for no other reason than to torture him; then, the outer dress, with its carmine satin and intricate embroidery. you throw it to the floor carelessly, as if the most knowledgeable museum curators wouldn’t prostrate themselves at your feet for the simple chance to display it for millions to see — a while his eyes drink up the sight of more skin, the whisper of form beneath your underdress and bloomers, you near him once more.

metal to a magnet, a moth to flame, he pulls himself to the edge of the bed. you find a place between his legs and grasp his chin, and choso can’t look away from you.

“i can take you apart and put you back together,” you say — promise — voice like crushed velvet, quiet and creeping like a choking vine. your thumb smooths over his cheek and ends at its apple, where you press the sharp tip of your nail into his flesh. “i can show you the pleasures of your eternal life, and its pains, and everything in between. i can bring you to every edge, and draw you back from them just as quick — and it will be painful, and you’ll enjoy it so much you won’t be able to go another day without it.”

he’s lost the ability to speak. his unmoving heart is in his throat — or in your hands, or between your sharp teeth. you tilt your head and regard him with knowing, twinkling eyes.

“all you have to say, pup, is yes.”

oh, it’s out of him so quick he can hardly keep up — a word so breathy you’d swear you’d already had your way with him. but embarrassment is a thing of the past when your smile stretches, and you murmur marvellous. you release him from your grasp, much to his chagrin, but when you begin pulling down your bloomers his attention shifts.

he can smell you. smell you. the musky, salty scent of between your legs — a smell that has his mouth watering and his fingers cramping from how hard he fists the sheets. your bloomers are damp when you discard them, sticky with your arousal, and pride glows in choso’s chest. he didn’t do much, but it seemed enough — if he had only let himself lose control, hump up against you harder, perhaps it would’ve stained his clothes; seeped through your layers and onto his lap. he’d go home and hold it over his nose until the scent faded, and perhaps after.

“new as you are,” you say, climbing onto your bed once more and reclining back against the numerous pillows — huffing a mean-sounding laugh when he crawls after you. “i’ll do you the mercy of taking it easy, just this once. oh, don’t make that face — you look like a kicked puppy. i promise you’ll enjoy what i have in store for you.”

and you hike up your underdress, and spread your legs. choso’s mouth waters — the thick smattering of hair on your mons, your flower-like labia, shiny with your arousal. and your clit, peeking out from its hood, pink and shiny and begging to have his mouth on it. but as if this wasn’t enough — as if he wasn’t already scrabbling to get between your legs — you take one of those long, sharp nails, and drag it against your inner thigh. the skin splits. blood trickles down from the wound like a river of gold, flowing into the crease between your thighs and your pussy, and it smells ambrosial. if his fangs were aching before, they’re screaming, now. this isn’t human blood; this is richer, sweeter, creamier. delectable. hedonistic. you’ll make a glutton of him.

“after all,” you say, grinning wickedly, “i’m treating you to a most delectable meal.”

[1captainjordan4]

Its missing boatem hours

[superalex2623]

|| Previous Page | Cover | Fin ||

The pair of monkeys celebrate Halloween with his now older student.

This one took me a while,  I did an extra page and a little drawing too, I try to make better drawings and use this comic to practice, this one is part of "The perks of Immortality" AU MK is still alive but is older than before, after I finish my animation I will be working on a more serious comic with the monkeys (is Crystal delusions), wish me luck.

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

Funny how things sometimes need only a spark to spiral further than you ever thought it would

Did you know that song was written in 1892